A Reply to Lawrence King and Robert T. Miller

By John P. Joy

In a recent article at Public Discourse, Lawrence King and Robert T. Miller offered a cordial critique of some arguments I had made here at the Dialogos Institute, in which I defended the infallibility of the condemnations of modern errors contained in the encyclical letter Quanta cura of Pope Pius IX.

The context of the question is the renewed interest in Catholic integralism that has been growing among some theologians. The question is also of special interest in light of the apparent conflict between the teaching of Quanta cura and the Second Vatican Council’s declaration on religious liberty. For the present, however, I will leave such larger questions aside and focus only on the doctrinal status of Quanta cura. Does it contain infallible teaching?

There are, as King and Miller agree, three conditions that have to be met in order for the pope to be “speaking ex cathedra” (i.e., infallibly) in the sense defined by Vatican I. These have to do with the subject, the object, and the act of the teaching, respectively. King and Miller grant that Quanta cura satisfies the condition regarding the subject, which is that the pope must be teaching as head of the universal Church (and not, for example, as a private person). And they grant, at least for the sake of argument, that it also satisfies the condition regarding the object, which is that it must be a matter of faith or morals (and not, for example, a matter of discipline or governance). But they deny that it fulfills the condition regarding the act itself, which is that the teaching in question must be proposed definitively, i.e. conclusively, in a way that clearly indicates the intention of the pope to put an end to all legitimate debate on the topic.

The logic of their argument appears to involve two basic premises. The first is that condemnations utilizing some of the lesser theological censures, such as ‘rash’ or ‘offensive to pious ears’, are unable to be infallibly defined. From this they conclude that any condemnation that does not specify precise theological censures for individual propositions cannot be regarded as infallible, because in such cases we cannot know whether a particular proposition was meant to be condemned as anything more than rash or offensive to pious ears, etc. Their second premise is the claim that in Quanta cura the pope does not in fact apply any precise theological censures to the condemned propositions.

I will reply to these two points in turn and then close with some remarks on two ancillary arguments with which King and Miller conclude their essay.

Infallibility and the Minor Theological Censures

From the middle ages until the middle of the twentieth century, theological censures were often used both by theologians and in magisterial documents in order to indicate precisely in what ways various propositions were theologically objectionable. The gravest censure is ‘heresy’, then ‘error’, and so forth, all the way down to minor censures such as ‘evil sounding’ or ‘offensive to pious ears’, etc. Bishop Gasser’s official explanation at Vatican I of the intended sense of the definition of papal infallibility made it clear that the infallibility of the pope extends beyond the censure of heresy (Mansi 52:1316), but he did not say whether it extends to all of the lesser theological censures. And so there is some question especially about the minor censures which do not directly address the truth or falsity of a proposition. For example, an ‘evil sounding’ proposition may express something true but in an improper way.

Now some theologians hold that these minor censures which do not involve a definite judgment of falsity should be understood merely as proscribing a proposition as somehow dangerous in the concrete circumstances of that time, while allowing for the possibility that they could be held and taught without danger at some future time. On this view, such condemnations are essentially reformable, and therefore cannot be infallible. This seems to be the view of King and Miller, as well as other weighty theologians such as Christian Pesch, Adolphe Tanquerey, John Henry Newman, Francis A. Sullivan, and Brian W. Harrison. Tanquerey, for example, as King says in his excellent dissertation, “considers it a common and true opinion that the censures ‘proximate to heresy,’ ‘erroneous in faith,’ and ‘false’ can be issued infallibly, but argues that ‘temerarious,’ ‘offensive to pious ears,’ and ‘improbable’ cannot be, because these notes ‘do not seem to define a doctrine’” (pp. 85-86).

Many other eminent theologians, however, including St. Alphonsus Ligouri, Johann Franzelin, Joseph Kleutgen, Matthias Scheeben, Louis Billot, and Charles Journet, hold that even though such censures might not involve a definite judgment of the falsity of the doctrine, there is still an infallible judgment at least as to the objectionable quality specified by the censure. On this view, a proposition condemned, for example, as ‘offensive to pious ears’ is infallibly condemned, not necessarily as false, but precisely as offensive to pious ears.

To me at least, this latter position seems more in agreement with the solemn and definitive mode of expression typically used by the supreme pontiffs in condemnations of this kind. It strains credulity to say that Pope Clement XI, for example, was intending to speak only provisionally or tentatively—and not definitively and irrevocably—when he says in Unigenitus (1713):

“By this our perpetually valid (perpetuo valitura) Constitution, we declare, condemn, and reject each and every one of the propositions listed above as respectively false, captious, evil-sounding, offensive to pious ears, scandalous, pernicious, rash, injurious to the Church and her practice, insulting not only to the Church but also to the secular powers, seditious, impious, blasphemous, suspected of heresy and smacking of the same heresy, as well as favoring heretics and heresies and also schisms, erroneous, proximate to heresy, many times condemned, and finally heretical; clearly renewing many heresies and most especially those which are contained in the infamous propositions of Jansen, and indeed taken in that sense in which these have been condemned.”

Moreover, as Scheeben points out:

“The Council of Embrun, which was ratified ‘plenissime’ [most fully] by Benedict XIV [sic], says about the Bull Unigenitus: ‘The Constitution Unigenitus is a dogmatic, definitive, and irrevocable judgment of that Church about which it was said by the mouth of the Lord: the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. Therefore if anyone does not agree heart and mind with this same Constitution, or does not give it true and sincere obedience, let him be considered among those who have made shipwreck of their faith’” (p. 369).

Indeed, in the Bull Pastoralis officii (1718), Pope Clement XI passed sentence of excommunication on those who would not accept Unigenitus, which would seem rather extreme if he had intended this constitution merely as a non-definitive exercise of his magisterium. Since, therefore, the case built by King and Miller against Quanta cura tells equally against Unigenitus, it seems to me that Quanta cura stands on firm ground.

No doubt there is much more that could and should be said about how to interpret all the various theological censures, but with respect to the question of infallibility, I would suggest that we ought to be asking more simply and directly whether a doctrine is being proposed as ‘to be believed as divinely revealed’ or as ‘to be held definitively’. These are the ‘notes’ specified by Vatican I and Vatican II as the criteria for infallible teaching. Moreover, these two notes are (relatively) easily understood and generally known; whereas the complex history of the terminology of theological censures (of which there are many, and many of whose precise meanings have been understood in different ways by different theologians), is familiar only to theologians. And as King and Miller themselves point out: “Any theory that implies that only professional scholars can figure out what has been taught infallibly has to be wrong.” Therefore, when a proposition is condemned in absolute terms as ‘to be rejected and condemned’, even without further specification, I submit that this should be understood as proposing the contradictory proposition as ‘definitively to be held’. For ‘to reject’ is the opposite of ‘to hold’ and to reject a doctrine ‘absolutely’ is the opposite of holding it ‘definitively’.

Theological Censures Used in Quanta cura

We come now to the second premise of the argument, which is the claim that Quanta cura does not specify any precise theological censures. But in fact it does. Although one has to read the whole document—and not only the final formula of condemnation—in order to see this. And this is most evident in precisely that proposition which is at the heart of the present debate about the theological note of integralism. For the condemned proposition which states (D 1689): “That the best condition of civil society is one in which no duty is recognized, as attached to the civil power, of restraining by enacted penalties, offenders against the Catholic religion, except so far as public peace may require” is condemned specifically as being “against the doctrine of Scripture, of the Church, and of the Holy Fathers” (contra sacrarum Litterarum Ecclesiæ sanctorumque Patrum doctrinam). That is no minor theological censure. In fact, it is hard to see how it could equate to anything less than a censure of heresy. The integralist doctrine expressed in this condemnation is therefore securely established as being at least definitive Catholic doctrine (de fide tenenda), if not even Catholic dogma (de fide credenda).

Another one of the condemned propositions is this (D 1698): “That one can, without sin and with no loss of Catholic profession, withhold assent and obedience to those judgments and decrees of the Apostolic See whose object is declared to relate to the general good of the Church and its rights and discipline, provided it does not touch dogmas of faith or morals.” This proposition is condemned specifically as being “opposed to the Catholic dogma of the full power given from God by Christ our Lord Himself to the Roman Pontiff of feeding, ruling and guiding the Universal Church” (adversetur catholico dogmati plenae potestatis Romano Pontifici). Once again, it is very hard to see how this can equate to anything other than a censure of heresy.

Another proposition states (D 1690): “That liberty of conscience and of worship is the proper right of every man, and should be proclaimed and asserted by law in every correctly established society; and that the right to all manner of liberty rests in the citizens, not to be restrained by either ecclesiastical or civil authority; and that by this right they can manifest openly and declare publicly their own concepts, whatever they be, by voice, by print, or in any other way.” This is condemned as “erroneous” and “maximally destructive to the Catholic Church and to the salvation of souls” (erroneam opinionem Catholicae Ecclesiae, animarumque saluti maxime exitialem). That doesn’t sound like an opinion that is merely ‘rash’ or ‘offensive to pious ears’. In fact, ‘erroneous’ is specifically mentioned by Bishop Gasser as one of the censures falling within the scope of papal infallibility (Mansi 52:1316).

Finally, in addition to the particular censures applied to some of the individual propositions, Pope Pius IX expressly describes all the propositions condemned in this encyclical as (D 1688): “false and perverse opinions” (falsae ac perversae opiniones). The term ‘false’ is especially important here because falsehood is absolutely and unambiguously opposed to truth. King and Miller sum up their argument by saying that Pius IX “could have used traditional language to definitively pronounce on the truth of these propositions, and yet chose not to do so.” But the plain fact of the matter is that by declaring them false, he did pronounce on their truth (in the negative); and he did so in a definitive way, by commanding all Catholics, in virtue of his supreme apostolic authority, to hold them as wholly and entirely (omnino) rejected, proscribed, and condemned.

Therefore, even if the minor theological censures cannot be defined infallibly; and even if papal condemnations were required to utilize specific theological censures in order to be infallible; nevertheless, Quanta cura would still meet the criteria for infallible ex cathedra teaching.

St. John Paul II and the Authority of the Magisterium

King and Miller close their essay with two further arguments which they say they regard as “conclusive” against the infallibility of Quanta cura. The first is based on their claim that Pope St. John Paul II “expressly rejected integralism” in an address to the European Parliament (1988) and implied such a rejection in his encyclical Centesimus annus (1991) by equating the right to religious freedom proclaimed by the Second Vatican Council with that found in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. This, they say, would make the pope a material heretic (if the integralist thesis is a dogma), or at least materially in error about something proximate to heresy (if the integralist thesis is definitive Catholic doctrine), and what is worse it would mean that he officially “taught error as Catholic doctrine.”

Now I for one would not want to rashly accuse the saintly pontiff of any such thing, and so I would want to make a much more thorough study of his teaching on this subject than I have space for here before coming to such a conclusion, but it cannot simply be ruled out a priori that any pope could officially teach error when he is not speaking ex cathedra. Indeed, that is why we call such teaching ‘non-definitive’ or ‘non-infallible’. It seems to me quite ironic that King and Miller describe me as advocating a “maximalist view of infallibility” while at the same time apparently regarding it as unthinkable that Pope John Paul II could have taught error as Catholic doctrine in a speech to the European Parliament or implied something erroneous in an encyclical letter. But in any case, the very same problem faces King and Miller with respect to Pope Pius IX. For if any of the propositions condemned in Quanta cura are actually true, then that blessed pontiff would have been guilty of officially teaching error as Catholic doctrine when he described them all as false.

The final argument put forward by King and Miller consists in the claim that defending the infallibility of Quanta cura (as I do) undermines the authority of the magisterium, whereas holding that it teaches error (as Miller does) or at least thinking that it might (as King does) better safeguards the authority of the magisterium. Such a paradoxical claim only makes sense in light of their prior claim that there is a real contradiction between the teaching of Pope Pius IX (and other pre-Vatican II popes) and that of Vatican II (and post-conciliar popes). This claim necessarily implies that at least some magisterial teaching is in error. But if we are to judge between competing claims based on which view best safeguards the authority of the magisterium, then Thomas Pink’s position has the best claim, for he argues (convincingly, as I think), that there is no real contradiction on this point between Vatican II and prior magisterial teaching.

In any case, however, this argument simply begs the question with regard to the infallibility of Quanta cura. For if Quanta cura is infallible, then defending it even against some hypothetically contradictory teaching of the non-definitive magisterium would not be undermining the magisterium of the Church at all, but actually safeguarding it against the most dangerous kind of threat. Whereas, if Quanta cura is not infallible—indeed, only if it has lesser authority than some hypothetically contradictory non-definitive teaching—only then would its defense be undermining of the magisterium. But since the infallibility of Quanta cura is precisely the point under dispute, its fallibility cannot be presupposed in the premise of an argument without begging the question.