Tag Archives: history

Is Critical Race Theory just a tool?

I’ve heard it a lot: “I do not agree with all the tenets of Critical Race Theory (CRT), but it can be a helpful tool for analyzing the problem of racism in our culture.”  In their book, The Critical Dilemma, Sawyer and Shenvi put it this way: “Christians and non-Christians insist that CRT is a neutral analytic tool.”  Presumably, it can be used for either good or evil.

In one sense, of course, this is true.  If I have a hammer, for example, I can use it in several different ways, some constructive, others destructive, and still others more creatively.  Regardless, the hammer is primarily designed to direct strong force upon very a focused location.  This is what makes hammers good for pounding in nails.  It also makes them good for shattering windows, pulverizing hard substances, and destroying fragile objects.  The point is that the tool is designed to achieve a limited number of outcomes, even though it can be employed in a potentially limitless number of situations.  Depending on the context, the purpose can be productive, destructive, or both.  In this regard, the hammer appears to be relatively neutral, and it’s use (or misuse) depends on who wields it and how.

In another sense, however, this notion of neutrality is incomplete and even potentially dangerous, because tools are not strictly neutral in terms of their design and purpose.  Tools are designed to solve certain problems or achieve certain ends in specified ways and consequently tend to have limited functionality by design.  If a tool like CRT is only designed to look for a certain kind of problem (e.g., systemic racism) it will be far from neutral since it has very specific designs and already assumes that what it is looking for is insidiously and ubiquitously present.

Getting back to our hammer example, if all you have is a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail—even when it isn’t.  If I want a board to become smooth, I would do better to subject it to a good sanding than a firm beating with a hammer.  In short, you should choose the right sort of tool for the right sort of problems.  Otherwise, you end up doing more harm than good.  Thus, an accurate assessment of the specific problem or problems you are facing should correspond to an accurate design and selection of tools to solve those specific issues.  In short, how we define our problems will very often determine the nature of our diagnostics and proposed solutions.  It will also largely determine the type of tool you create, select, and utilize to resolve it.

Just as diagnostic tools in medicine often require a battery of tests covering a wide range of possible problems, adequate cultural diagnostic tools should also seek to identify more comprehensive possible explanations for what social problems exist and why.  If the only thing I am looking for is Covid-19, but my patient has a different and perhaps much more serious and hidden illness like liver cancer, my Covid-19 test kit will not help me much, even if they actually have the disease.  In the same way, without a broader set of diagnostic concerns to examine the problems of society and the reasons for them, we can end up doing more harm than good, even undermining our credibility and ability to identify real problems (like racism) that plague our world today.  It’s not that CRT is wrong about its search for racism.  Racism, both systemic and interpersonal, is certainly a problem in our time as it has been in all times and cultures since the fall.

However, when you assume in advance, as CRT does, that racism is widespread, systemic, and largely unconscious in majority populations of society—simply because they are in the majority and because there are social disparities, you will be looking to support your preconceived theory and predetermined conclusion that the system is widely and inherently racist and therefore evil.  As Ibram X. Kendi bluntly declares, “When I see racial disparities, I see racism.”  But simply assuming and asserting widespread inherent systemic racism, rather than adequately demonstrating its presence becomes part of the problem.  Everything in the system starts to look like systemic racism, whether or not it is actually there.  Even worse, you tend to start creating racism where it previously didn’t exist to any significant degree in order to justify the ongoing and wider use and application of your tool.

This is not just ridiculously reductionistic, it is simply fallacious.  It demonstrates a fundamental misunderstanding of human nature, God’s creation, and what racism is and isn’t.  And it does almost nothing to solve the real roots of racism, systemic or otherwise.  To be sure, racial disparity might indicate racism, but it does not do so inevitably or inherently.  Whether or not it does is not based on the disparity itself but is often the result of several other factors that must also be honestly and accurately considered before any simplistically dogmatic conclusions like this are made.

As economist and social philosopher Thomas Sowell has often shown in his books like Social Justice Fallacies, more comprehensive and honest societal analysis takes time and must give attention to nuance and multiple layers of social realities.  It also may point back to the people involved and highlight and indict them of their own sin and the ways in which they themselves may have contributed to the disparities that are present.  Is it racism?  Is it laziness?  Is it mental illness?  Is it fatherlessness?  Is it generational dependency?  Is it a genuine lack of opportunity that is largely unrelated to racial issues but a result of other systemic factors like poor educational instruction, for example?  Is it the adoption of legitimate but very different social values that put the community at a disadvantage in an industrial and digital age?  Is it some, or all, or none of the above factors?  What is really going on here that is leading to and perpetuating the disparities?

Thus, to say there is no racism in American social systems (there is) is just as naïve and wrong as it is to say virtually everything in the system is racist (it isn’t).  But when CRT tries to argue that all disparities are due to systemic racism, it reveals a hidden fact that as a sociological tool it is primarily ideologically (versus empirically) driven.  As a result, any honest examination of all factors involved in a situation will very likely be done inadequately, if at all.  This will produce a very selective history and set of examples that only serve to confirm the theory (called confirmation bias) but one which does not necessarily take all relevant aspects into account.  Consequently, this produces a truncated diagnosis at best and a wrong and harmful one at worst.

CRT remains attractive because it points to a truth that is very real: Racism remains a problem in the contemporary age, just as it has been a problem ever since sin entered the world.  But as a tool of social analysis, it is not only insufficient for explaining the true scope and nature of society’s problems, according to Shenvi and Sawyer, it makes false “sweeping assumptions about human beings, purpose, lived experience, meaning morality, knowledge, and identity that inevitably bring it into conflict with Christianity.”  As a result, it produces easy villains and heroes in the face of several convoluted and complex factors contributing to the profound problems of our time.  In so doing, it offers fallacious and overly simplistic explanations and solutions which often end up hindering and hurting those they claim they are trying to help.  That is the tragedy of choosing the wrong tool (CRT) for a need that remains and requires a viable solution—the identification and eradication of unjust systemic and personal racism in our time.

Lex rex or rex lex?

There’s a Latin phrase that has entered into the modern lexicon of legal lore.  It’s sometimes framed in the form of a question: Lex rex or rex lex?  A loose English translation might be, “Is the law king or is the king the law?”  In short, does the rule of law stand above even the most powerful people of society, or do the most powerful people in society stand above the law?

One of the long-standing principles of legal theory in the United States of America was what has come to be known as the “rule of law.”  In short, no one is above the law, not kings, not presidents, not even the lawmakers themselves.  All are subject to the rule of (an ideally just and well-crafted) law.

Far more common in the history of the world has been “rex lex,” the idea that whoever holds the power not only makes the laws but also stands above them.  That is to say, the king, the powerful, the legislators, are the creators of and therefore not subject to the laws of the land.  They only enact and enforce them when it is to their personal or social advantage.

Of course, even in the US, as the recent Hunter Bidon pardon illustrates, the temptation to employ a “rex lex” attitude is unfortunately alive and well.  To provide another recent example, when Roe v. Wade was overturned by the ruling in the Dobbs v. Jackson case, several abortion laws put in place before the 1973 Roe v. Wade ruling were presumably supposed to be reinstated and enforced.  As a result, some state attorney generals in certain states with anti-abortion—pro-life is a better way to frame this—laws stated they will simply not enforce these laws.

In addition, no less than eighty-three prosecutors from states across the nation issued a joint statement pledging to undercut any state laws criminalizing abortion, pledging to “stand together in our firm belief that prosecutors have a responsibility to refrain from using limited criminal legal system resources to criminalize personal medical decisions.”  They continued: “As such, we decline to use our offices’ resources to criminalize reproductive health decisions and commit to exercise our well-settled discretion and refrain from prosecuting those who seek, provide, or support abortions.”

Notice the use of language, “reproductive health” and no mention of unborn children losing their lives here.  The statement reflects a moral code that places individual choice above taking responsibility for demanding sexual freedom that sometimes results in an unwanted child.

In the past, if you didn’t like a law, you tried to argue why that law was bad, and perhaps tried to get elected as a legislator so that you could change the law.  Now, it seems, legal activism has become a law unto itself, enacting legal action to prevent the enforcement of laws that were legally and properly created.  In the past, the judicial branch was only meant to enforce laws, not to make them or to ignore them.  They didn’t have to like or agree with the laws, but as lawyers and judges, they were put into positions of power to fairly and properly enforce them, not to overrule or ignore them.

When the governor of Florida suspended the attorney general for refusing to uphold the rule of law (because he disagreed with the law), this same attorney general invoked a lawsuit to retain his job as a duly elected official.  It’s rich irony indeed when an attorney invokes the rule of law in an attempt to defend and maintain his refusal to uphold the rule of law—and all this because he disagrees with the law.  “Rex lex” or “lex rex?”  Which is it?

Some justify this on the grounds that an old law is no longer a relevant law.  Laws must be updated with the changing times.  There’s some truth to this, of course.  It would be foolish to retain laws concerning the proper handling of horse-drawn buggies on New York city streets, for example, in an age of autos and buses.

At the same time, suggesting that foundational moral principles like, “You shall not kill” require major revision is to suggest that these things are nothing more than culturally relative ideals.  Our age has come of age.  We know better than our unenlightened ancestors who were forced to keep and raise their “products of conception,” even if they were unexpected and unwanted.  This is what progress is all about, after all.  But is this moral progress or moral regress?

All of this illustrates that there are (at least) two fundamentally different worldviews standing behind each perspective, views that have sweeping implications for what it means to be human and the significance and source of the law in society.

Is the codification of moral laws grounded in the unchanging character of God as revealed in Scripture, or are they grounded in the changing tides of human moral reasoning through the passage of time?  If the latter, then “rex lex” not only makes sense, it is the only logical option.  Whoever is in power lately determines right and wrong for everyone under their rule.  Might is right.

If, however, God stands far above all rule and authority and power and dominion (Ephesians 1:21), then “lex rex,” the moral law is king, because that law is founded upon and grounded in who and what He is, the unrivaled Sovereign Almighty King who is holy, righteous, and good.  As such, His might, and His might alone, is right, for He will “judge the world with righteousness, and the peoples with equity” (Psalm 98:9).