The concept of Global Ethics functions on the Golden Rule, accordingly Global Ethics depends entirely on this principle. Global Ethics asserts that the partnership of the great religions is evinced by the shared principle of the Golden Rule. We must concede then, that the ethic of reciprocity must be universal in order for Global Ethics to hold true. The concept of Global Ethics ultimately relies on this single principle, that conjoins the great religions, to apply universally. Hence the term "Global." If anyone of the great religions maintains a similar ethic (different version of the Golden Rule) that is void of universalism, then logically, the said religion must be omitted from the Global Ethic equation or else the concept is in error. In layman's terms: the concept of Global Ethics just won't work without first acknowledging the Golden Rule as a universal ethic. The six great religions must acknowledge, in practice and in principle, the *same* Golden Rule observed by the concept of Global Ethics.
No, I think you've made a big logical error here. Consider the following two claims:
(1) If you hold ethical claim X, you believe that X applies to everybody.
(2) Everybody holds (some form of) ethical claim X.
I think it's clear that these are very different claims. We can imagine Xs for which (1) holds, but not (2), and for which (2) holds, but not (1). For example, I can define "whistlism" as the ethical claim that everybody should whistle all the time. (1) is true of whistlism, but (2) is not true of whistlism.
Now you call the "Golden Rule" a "universal" rule. But that is ambigious. Do you mean (1) or (2)? Küng thinks it is universal in the sense of (2). That is, he thinks that every (major) religious tradition holds some form of it. Because of this, he thinks that this rule should be part of the "Global Ethics" that he wants to develop.
But you are claiming that if Küng is committed to (2) about the "Golden Rule", then he must also be committed to (1). Furthermore, you point out that (1) is, in fact, false, because the Muslim version of the "Golden Rule" does not meet it. Therefore, Küng is wrong about (2) as well.
But of course, as I hope the distinction between (1) and (2) makes clear, you're not justified in assuming that. Why should Küng be committed to claim (1) about the "Golden Rule", or indeed about any other principle which he wants to include in his "Global Ethic"? The only criterion, accoding to him, on which to choose such principles is (2). I don't see why he should be committed to (1) at all. And you haven't given any good reason to doubt (2). You have pointed out that the Muslim version of the "Golden Rule" is not universal
in scope. It does not follow from that that the "Golden Rule" itself is not
universally represented among the major religious traditions. But that is all that Küng is claiming for it. Thus, there is no reason whatsoever to suppose that all the "Great" religions must adopt the same form of the "Golden Rule" for Küng to be justified in including it in his Global Ethic; all that is required is that they all adopt something recognisable as some form of the same principle.
Here you are describing moral imperatives such as "Do not kill" or "Do not steal" as individual ethical principles which can vary in scope. I agree, moral imperatives (which you describe as ethical principles) can in fact vary in scope, however the moral imperatives are governed by an axiom which in itself cannot vary in scope, it must be absolute. So the moral imperatives (relative) which vary in scope cannot be compared to an axiom (absolute) which does not. An absolute governs the relative moral imperatives.
What is the argument for this? What is the difference between a moral imperative and a moral axiom, and why must the latter be absolute? I can easily imagine someone who acts on the basis of variable - even capricious - moral axioms, like a D&D Chaotic character. Maybe we would be inclined to think that a defective morality, but it would certainly be possible.
Suppose we both agree that the Golden Rule can also vary in scope (different versions), and that it is relative. We must then concede that this presupposition proves Hans Kung's concept of Global Ethics fallible. Hans is employing the Golden Rule as the axiom (absolute) which governs morality and it is the universal ethic which all six religions employ. So if the moral systems of the six religions are governed by the ethic of reciprocity then the moral imperatives must be uniform throughout the religions as well. "Do not kill," "Do not steal," "Do not lie," etc. are imperatives that must resonate throughout the religions, the moral precepts must be universal and extend to all of humanity. All of them must exhibit universalitic ethics, or group-membership-neutral spiritual goals and practices. The variables you describe, such as the Jainists understanding of the "Do not kill" imperative applying to all living things or the ambiguity of the Golden Rule with regards to animals, are the conditional differences which Hans refers to. The "restrictions" of the Golden Rule are not a product of the principle but a result of the conditional differences imposed by the religions, i.e. diverse ethical teachings and philosophies. Essentially you maintain the premise that the Golden Rule is relative. It is open to interpretation and is defined by the individual religious ethical teachings, whereas Hans maintains that the Golden Rule is absolute and all six religions conform to it.
Here again I think you're confusing (1) and (2). Küng claims only that the "Golden Rule", or variants thereon, is found in all the major religious traditions; he doesn't need to claim that the
same version of the rule is found in them all; he certainly doesn't need to claim that
each tradition believes the rule to be universal in scope.
I don't believe it is easy as you think! Yes, you stated that moral imperatives as well as the Golden Rule is relative and subject to interpretation, but as I've demonstrated, according to the concept of Global Ethics, the Golden Rule as an axiom can not vary in scope.
Ah, but you've not demonstrated it! And surely the fact that one
can easily alter the scope of moral imperatives and axioms alike, as one sees fit, is evidence that in fact you're wrong there. I can formulate any moral principle that I want. Of course I might not find it easy to persuade other people to follow it, but that's a different matter. Moreover, throughout history people have indeed altered these principles and axioms (perhaps unconsciously) to fit their other ideas about how things should be. For example, you say that the "Golden Rule", at least in Christianity, should be applied universally; yet the Christian apologists for slavery in the eighteenth century evidently didn't think so. They modified the scope of the rule to apply only to white people.
I certainly admire your determination to prove the extraction of universal principles from parochial ones, but it is simply not possible unless your intention is to transform the religion itself which basically equates to subverting it. It may resemble its former doctrine but it will not be the same.
You may well be right there, but I don't really see a problem. Of course anyone who modifies an existing moral principle will be changing it, or at least creating a new version; and anyone who succeeds in imposing his new version on the whole religion will have changed that religion. But I wouldn't say anything contrary to that and I don't see that Küng would either. Certainly, in the speech in question, he is calling for religions to change: he wants their moral teachings to be more universal in scope, dropping the parochialism that he sees (surely rightly) as a hindrance to the development of really good moral teachings.
Again, either Hans truly believes Islam contains THE Golden Rule, or hes attempting to convince the Islamic populas into believing: "Hey! your doctrine also contains the Golden Rule! Now follow it."
The claim that this sort of approach is rather patronising (telling people what they believe) has often been made, and it may well be a fair point. But of course it doesn't mean that the approach in question is actually wrong.
You must agree that if the above is actually what Hans believes, he has got to be very very naive. Admirable but naive nonetheless.
Maybe, but I really think you've misunderstood not only what Küng is trying to say but also the other views that he is committed to. But I must also ask - why do you seem to be on first-name terms with him?
Earlier in the thread (before i lost track of it). You said that atheism is not a "new thing" as in, not a modern new thing. Could you elaborate a bit on that ?
I don't remember saying that (and I don't want to search all those pages to find it). Atheism, or at least thoroughgoing agnosticism, is part of Theravada Buddhism, so that has obviously been around for a long time. We can also see atheistic tendencies among the Epicureans, among others, in western antiquity. But I think that atheism as we know it only really developed in the seventeenth and (especially) the eighteenth centuries. It was only in the eighteenth - and perhaps even the nineteenth - century that the word "atheism" acquired its modern meaning. Here's a short bit I wrote ages ago on this:
When the Scottish philosopher David Hume was in Paris, he was invited to a dinner party with a number of prominent “philosophes”. He remarked that, despite the notoriety of the atheists, he had never met one; and was surprised to be told by his host, Baron d’Holbach, that, of the eighteen people in the room, fifteen were atheists, and the other three had not yet made up their minds.
The story shows the very different attitudes to atheism in the eighteenth century. On the one hand, atheism was a shocking and scandalous thing, to such an extent that an infamous free-thinker from Britain could claim never to have met one. They must have been viewed almost as Communists were in some quarters in 1950s America. There was much confusion about what exactly atheists were: some regarded atheism as a deluded belief that there is no God, but most people thought it was more than this, a moral failing as well as an intellectual one. An “atheist” was popularly regarded as someone who lived and tried to justify a wanton, licentious existence. The archetype of this kind of “atheist” was John Wilmot, the second Earl of Rochester, whose remarkably rude poems celebrate an irreligious debauchery of wine and women. Rochester regularly drew upon himself the condemnation of church figures, who regarded him and others at the court as a bad example to the nation – hence the appellation of “atheist”, although rather than actively denying God’s existence, Rochester was really not very bothered about religious matters. His deathbed renunciation of his wasted life and dedication to God was widely reported and welcomed.
And to many, an atheist was something even worse – what would in future centuries be called an “anarchist” or even a “terrorist”. He was, more probably than not, seeking the overthrow of the state, and might well be working as an agent for the Turks. “Atheist”, in other words, was a damaging label that could mean a wide variety of things, none of them good.
But to the enlightened French aristocrats, nothing could be more sensible than atheism; it was a very fashionable position to hold, and some even regarded Hume, of all people, as something of a conformist because he never “came out” explicitly as one of their number!
In fact, atheism, if by that we mean simply the intellectual denial of the existence of God, was an extremely new concept. There had been people in ancient times who were considered “atheists” because they rejected traditional gods or religion. They included the Epicureans and, ironically, the Christians themselves. However, the assertion that there is no God – that the material world is all that exists – had been literally unthinkable for many centuries. But it was, perhaps, the inevitable consequence of the train of thought that began with dualism and went through mechanism to deism.
Few people “came out” as atheists in the eighteenth century, and indeed it could still be a shocking thing in the nineteenth and even the twentieth centuries. Baron d’Holbach, one of the most radical of the “philosophes”, was an exception, stating that atheism was not only true but provided a better basis for morality than religion. Today, there are differing views over exactly what some of these people believed: were they all deists, or did some of them pretend to be deists whilst really preferring atheism? Perhaps more important, however, was the fact that, whatever their personal beliefs, philosophers were starting to challenge the arguments for God’s existence that had been trusted for centuries. Pre-eminent among these philosophers was David Hume.
Hume was born in Edinburgh in 1711 into a fairly well-to-do family. Although he originally trained as a lawyer, he was far more interested in philosophy, and indeed had completed his most important philosophical work by his mid-20s. In 1739 he published his Treatise of Human Nature, which, as he later put it, “fell dead-born from the press”, making very little impact. Undeterred, Hume strove to make a name for himself in the “Republic of letters”, and found more success with various literary and philosophical essays. His Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding of 1748 revised the ideas of his earlier Treatise, and met with greater success – and notoriety, for Hume’s ideas appeared to undermine not only traditional religion but even the possibility of science and philosophy as well. In 1761 the Catholic Church placed his works on the Index, and he began to attract considerable opposition from orthodox Anglicans. Hume, however, ignored it all, and published a magisterial History of England, which brought him greater fame than his philosophical work. In Britain, he was alternately praised and despised: Dr Johnson once walked out of a room the moment he saw Hume enter it. There is an apocryphal story of an old woman who refused to help the philosopher out of a bog until he had recited the Lord’s Prayer to her satisfaction.
Yet despite his notorious reputation, Hume enjoyed a happy life with a large number of friends: he was invariably cheerful and morally upright, a fact which amazed many. And in France, the “philosophes” lapped him up. He was great friends with Diderot and d’Alembert, as well as Montesquieu.
Hume died in 1776. Johnson, curious to know how the notorious atheist was preparing to meet his maker, sent his sidekick James Boswell to go and see him. When Boswell reported that Hume seemed as calm and happy as ever, Johnson angrily retorted that he must have been lying. After Hume’s funeral, a considerable crowd watched the graveyard overnight, hoping to see the devil arrive to carry the heretic away: unfortunately, they were disappointed. During the service itself, a heckler had shouted, “He was an atheist!” “No matter,” replied another, “he was a good man.”
Do you think that to be the best and most objective theologian it's better to be agnostic or areligious?
I think that, other things being equal, it really doesn't make much difference. It could be argued that a religious person is more likely to have empathy for religious views, which would be important in understanding them properly. But similarly, it could be argued that a non-religious person is more likely to approach those views more objectively. Of course, an atheist is no more likely to be objective than a theist; both will bring their own views on the matter; an agnostic may lack that baggage. But then again, an agnostic may have particular reasons for being an agnostic: they may believe it impossible in principle to know whether God exists or not. But that view would have been practically unintelligible to most ancient and medieval theologians, so here again the modern theologian is bringing his or her own conceptions to the table.
Really, though, I don't think it makes much difference; any historian of ideas needs to be able to engage both sympathetically and critically with the people under consideration, irrespective of their own views. Of course the historian of ideas can
then go on to criticise the person studied on the basis of his or her own views, but that is a different enterprise.
Anyway, thank you for your answer. 
Funny questions they had. 
Seriously, I only took a few church history subjects, and while I've got plenty of contemporary authors lined up to plow through ahead, I was wondering if there's any particularly convincing ancient/medieval folk whose 'pre-modern' concepts of faith might offer an alternative faith model to modernism (in other words, Christians who were happy to sit and rest with ambiguities in their faith, not needing 'all the answers', whose theology/concept of God was committed to evolving, adapting and changing, rather than stagnating.)? In particular, I'm interested in their ideas surrounding faith and the nature of God, rather than their understanding of religious practice or ecclessiology. Feel free to say 'no' - but the name of an individual or sect or two would be handy nonetheless.
