Lights and Fingers

I recently finished re-reading 1984 by George Orwell (aka Eric Blair). I can't remember what provoked me to do so. I believe it had to do with some in the evangelical world who have basically given up on the notion of propositional truth, thus embracing, or at least incorporating, postmodern structures to truth. These theologians tend to be the scholars of the Emergent Church or at least those influenced by Emergent thinking look to. Everyone's got their theologian/philosopher/scholar to cite in a moment of need. Even me.

The characters in 1984 have trained themselves not to reveal their thoughts or inner feelings by controling things like facial expressions, the heartrate, inflections in voice, anything that would not give them away to those listening through the telescreens. The Thought Police could not be far behind if someone was suspected of crimethink, or unorthodoxy.

One way Big Brother and the Party were going about to control thought was through the use of language. If you can control language then you can, in essence, control thought. Orwell's term was Newspeak, its purpose "was not only to provide a medium of expression for the world-view and mental habits proper to the devotees of Ingsoc [the philosophy of the Party], but to make all other modes of thought impossible" (p. 246).

To put my own spin on the definition, I believe it refers to using certain terms that mean one thing in a particular context, but then have an entirely different meaning in mind. This is the double use of language, one of the facets of theological modernism, still with us today, giving us poor lectures on grammar and language usage and getting upset when we raise a hand in protest. Recalling when I was in Uganda in 2008, I'm sitting in the library of Central Buganda University in the tiny village of Kasaka reading through a small book on the changes that took place in the Episcopal Church (USA).

As I'm going through the book I am becoming more and more dumbfounded at the way Christian terms are twisted to mean something other than what has been understood in the past and what is understood by the person in the pew. Having read 1984 once and with that in the back of my mind, the thought that came to me was, "This has got to be the greatest example of theological Newspeak I have ever seen." Or, perhaps more accurately, theological doublethink.  B.B. Warfield stated as much in his day when he said that "instead of stating Christian belief in terms of modern thought, an effort is made, rather, to state modern thought in terms of Christian belief."

This results in changing the very meaning of terms like resurrection to mean something other than bodily resurrection, which is what not only Christians have believed for centuries, but Jews before that (with some exceptions, of course). Resurrection cannot mean some "spiritual" or non-physical rising, or the spirit of Christ's teaching living on in his disciples. This is a prime example of separating the teaching from the Teacher, especially since Jesus is reported to have taught about his resurrection.

J. Gresham Machen addressed this issue in the Presbyterian Church (USA) that raged through the 1920s. Speaking on truthfulness in language in Christianity and Liberalism he says,

"According to that fundamental principle, language is truthful, not when the meaning attached to the words by the speaker, but when the meaning intended to be produced in the mind of the particular person addressed, is in accordance with the facts. Thus the truthfulness of the assertion, "I believe that Jesus is God," depends upon the audience that is addressed. If the audience is composed of theologically trained persons, who will attach the same meaning to the word "God" as that which the speaker attaches to it, then the language is truthful.

But if the audience is composed of old-fashioned Christians, who have never attached anything but the old meaning to the word "God" (the meaning which appears in the first verse of Genesis), then the language is untruthful. And in the latter case, not all the pious motives in the world will make the utterance right. Christian ethics do not abrogate common honesty: no possible desire of edifying the Church and of avoiding offence can excuse a lie" (p. 112).

Strong words from Machen, but very necessary ones. We must be careful in how we use language, learning to be more precise in our meanings.

The closing chapters of 1984 make for fascinating reading. While I was reading about the experiences of Winston Smith as he is being interrogated (reeducated?) in the bowels of the Ministry of Love, my thoughts drifted back to an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. I love Star Trek TNG. I don't dress up in Starfleet uniforms or go to conventions, but I do enjoy the show very much, especially as I have come to understand the philosophical underpinnings of the show. If I see it on TV while flipping through the channels it is hard to pass up. Star Trek was going to be the original subject of this blog, but I got sidetracked by theology, for which I do not apologize for.

There is a two-part episode called Chain of Command. Both hours are good, but it is the second part that is, to use Newspeak, doubleplusgood. Captain Picard has been captured by the Cardasians [no, not the Kardashians, which might just be worse] and is being tortured for information by Gul Madred, played by David Warner. This espisode showcases Patrick Stewart's brilliant acting to its fullest. Picard is being asked how many lights he sees, just as Winston Smith was asked how many fingers he sees. The influence of Orwell is clearly seen in the clip below.

From 1984:

"Do you remember," he went on, "writing in your diary, 'Freedom is the freedom to say that two plus two make four'?"

"Yes," said Winston

O'Brien held up his left hand, its back toward Winston, with the thumb hidden and the four fingers extended.

"How many fingers am I holding up, Winston?"

"Four."

The word ended in a gasp of pain. The needle of the dial had shot up to fifty-five. The sweat had sprung out all over Winston's body. The air tore into his lungs and issued again in deep groans which even by clenching his teeth he could not stop. O'Brien watched him, the four fingers extended. He drew back the lever. This time the pain was only slightly eased.

"How many fingers, Winston?"

"Four."

The needle went up to sixty.

"How many fingers, Winston?"

"Four! Four! What else can I say? Four!"

The needle must have risen again, but he did not look at it. The heavy, stern face and the four fingers filled his vision. The fingers stood up before his eyes like pillars, enormous, blurry, and seeming to vibrate, but unmistakably four.

"How many fingers, Winston?"

"Four! Stop it, stop it! How can you go on? Four! Four!"

"How many fingers, Winston?"

"Five! Five! Five!"

"No, Winston, that is no use. You are lying. You still think there are four. How many fingers, please?"

"Four! five! Four! Anything you like. Only stop it, stop the pain!"

O'Brien finally turns off the pain switch and Winston is practically breaking down like a child. The story continues,

"You are a slow learner, Winston," said O'Brien gently.

"How can I help it?" he blubbered. "How can I help seeing what is in front of my eyes? Two and two are four."

"Sometimes, Winston. Sometimes they are five. Sometimes they are three. Sometimes they are all of them at once. You must try harder. It is not easy to become sane."

The moral of all this is you should read 1984 and then watch Star Trek because they are both amazingly dem fine. Oh, and don't be theologically liberal. It's just not worth it.