The 1960s have become a mythical period for both society at large and the Catholic Church in particular. Two myths have currency. One sees the period as a golden age of freedom from unreasonable restraints, openness to new ideas and a crossing of restrictive boundaries. The other sees them as an age of license, of abandonment of a moral code, and of loss of cohesive identity.
A book by Vinnies chief John Falzon led me to ponder these myths. In its style, The Language of the Unheard is a throwback to the 1960s. It is written in a variety of voices, from analytical to poetic to anecdotal. It is catholic in the range of writers whom it cites, ranging from popes to Latin American activists, to theorists like Fanon and Marx, and especially little known people who have been marginalised.
Most tellingly, its tone is passionate, combining anger and outrage at the way in which people in Australia are maltreated by the state and excluded by the categories of public opinion. It views society from the perspective of those excluded from its benefits. It insists the remedy for this discrimination must be found in their concerted action. It calls for a quite concrete solidarity with the poor that will empower them to organise to receive justice.
This was the stuff of Catholic activist reflection in the 1960s: the affective tone, the search for wisdom in many places, the belief in direct action by those who are marginalised. It seems surprisingly novel today.
Catholic reflection on matters of justice and poverty plays many of the same notes, but in a different key. Its style is more coolly reflective, offering a bird's eye view of the world of which the poor are part. The solidarity that is key to Catholic social thought is grounded in shared human dignity. It binds the wealthiest citizens to the most impoverished and commits the community to ensure the poorest have an honoured place at the table.
The tone of much Catholic reflection is analytic or exhortatory. Although describing starkly the ills of society, in order to redress them it appeals to people's better nature. In Pope Benedict's thought the petrol that drives the engine of social change for the better is not anger but love. The argument is made from reflection on Christian faith, and other sources of wisdom are often seen as rivals rather than as partners in changing the world.
This perspective is in continuity with the long Catholic tradition, but also bears marks of a conscious reaction against some strands of Catholic reflection current in the 1960s. In contrast to the emphasis on local communities and shared struggle, this reflection is located within the Catholic tradition of authoritative teaching.
It perhaps represents a reaction against the use of Marxist categories and language in analysing the world, and it recognises that anger is not always a reliable counsellor, with its capacity to mask selfish agendas as altruism.
The rich panorama of Falzon's book draws attention to the importance of some of the 1960s heritage. Affective solidarity is central within any commitment to social justice. Solidarity can never simply be a guiding principle in society. It must also be expressed in concrete relationships between people that move them to concerted action.
Although as critics of the 1960s insist, affective solidarity can degenerate into ineffectual sentiment, any form of solidarity must be measured by the actual relationships we form with those different from us, and by the ways in which we enable their voices to be heard and encourage their solidarity with one another.
The reflection on liberation that has come out of the Latin American Church movements still has much to contribute to Catholic reflection today.
It is also important to recognise the value of righteous anger, while acknowledging its ambiguity. It is right to be angered by the way we marginalise people in society and treat them subsequently. The emphasis on love in Christian faith can mask a fear of anger and conflict, and even be manipulative when used to discourage change.
The scriptures represent God's love and anger as complementary, not as contradictory, and anger and its management have an important part in any commitment to social justice..
Finally, affective rhetoric has an important place in church language about justice and society. Reasoned argument, denunciation and homiletic have their place. But language that moves people is direct and demotic, full of delicate and brutal images of which the scriptures are full, a torrent of words gurgling with many voices.
Andrew Hamilton is consulting editor of Eureka Street.