The Brilliance of Dignity
Dignitas Infinita and the Meaning of Dignity
Back in 2008, the psychologist and public intellectual Steven Pinker penned the article “The Stupidity of Dignity” for The New Republic, arguing that, in Pinker’s words, dignity is “a squishy, subjective notion, hardly up to the heavyweight moral demands assigned to it.” The primary focus of Pinker’s ire was the work of the President’s Council on Bioethics, established by President George W. Bush in 2001, and its chair (from 2001 to 2005), Leon Kass. The Council had drawn upon the notion of “dignity” to express opposition to embryonic stem cell research and therapeutic cloning, and in 2008 published a massive volume, Human Dignity and Bioethics, exploring the theme of dignity in several essays. Pinker argues that this appeal to dignity masked a hostility to scientific progress and improved human flourishing.
What is Pinker’s objection to the notion of dignity? For one, he argues that even its advocates cannot agree on exactly what it is. For example:
Sometimes certain evils, like slavery, are described as taking away a person’s dignity, while elsewhere dignity is considered something that cannot be taken away;
Sometimes dignity is described as something that we achieve through upright behavior and character, but on other occasions it is considered something we possess innately, regardless of our actions or moral virtues (or lack thereof).
He likewise argues that the inherently ambiguous concept of dignity often seems to be used in order to give a reasonable or philosophical veneer to what are essentially theological or religious arguments. For example, he notes that the essays in Human Dignity and Bioethics are riddled with scriptural and other theological appeals. Interestingly, he notes that talk of dignity is particularly common in Catholic circles and laments the outsized influence of Catholic intellectuals on the conservative movement during the Bush era.
Pinker concludes that “dignity” has the valid sense of referring to the subjective perception of being valued, and he admits that nearly all people want to be treated with dignity, meaning to be treated in a way that is perceived as having value. But as an ethical concept, he argues, our use of the term “dignity” can be reduced to the value of autonomy: people ought to be treated how they want to be treated. In terms of bioethics, he claims that dignity, as the concept is used by the President’s Council on Bioethics and its allies, serves to obfuscate certain ethical issues that ought to be resolved by appealing to the autonomy of persons.
As the Vatican’s Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith (DDF) worked on the recent declaration Dignitas Infinita (DI), on human dignity, its staff may not have had Pinker’s article in mind, but the document is clearly a response to the sorts of philosophical questions raised in Pinker’s essay. In an earlier article, I argued that one of the purposes of DI is to propose dignity as a unifying principle for Catholics with diverging emphases in the cultural, social, and political spheres. The declaration is also aimed, however, at providing a clear definition of dignity in response to skeptics like Pinker and to the divergent ways the term is sometimes used in public discourse.
DI does not shy away from the argument that the meaning of dignity can seem unclear. In the introduction to the document, the DDF admits that the term “dignity” can have a “variety of interpretations that can yield potential ambiguities” (7). Rather than seeing this as a reason for dismissing the concept, however, DI concludes that the multivalence of the term dignity requires us to make careful distinctions between the different ways it is used.
The document distinguishes four basic senses of the concept of dignity (7-8):
Ontological Dignity: This is an innate characteristic of a person, a source of worth that inheres in an individual by virtue of their nature. As a result of ontological dignity, a person has rights and is worthy of respect. This, according to DI, is the most foundational sense of dignity.
Moral Dignity: We sometimes refer to a person’s behavior as “dignified” or “not dignified.” We can also refer to someone as having a dignified character. DI explains that this moral dignity is a function of how we exercise our freedom. We are called to demonstrate moral dignity because of our ontological dignity. And unlike our ontological dignity, our moral dignity can be diminished.
Social Dignity: Social dignity refers to, as DI puts it, “the quality of a person’s living conditions” (8). It notes, for example, that we sometimes refer to extreme poverty as leading to “undignified” living conditions. Importantly, the document points out that, unlike moral dignity, for example, recognizing a lack of social dignity is not a judgment on the person, but rather a recognition of the situation in which they are forced to live.
Existential Dignity: What the DDF intends by the term “existential dignity” is less clear than its definitions of the other three senses, but it seems to refer to a person’s more subjective sense of self-worth, their recognition of their ontological dignity. For example, it notes that those who live in “the presence of serious illnesses, violent family environments, pathological addictions, and other hardships” may see themselves as “undignified,” and adds that even those who have lived comfortable lives “may still struggle to live with peace, joy, and hope” (8).
Interestingly, the DDF rejects Pinker’s more intersubjective sense of dignity, as something that others perceive in me, warning that if a person’s dignity is based on the perception of others, it is at risk of being taken away (15). The DDF is more interested in viewing dignity as a characteristic of a person independent of how that person is perceived by others.
It should be clear, however, that the distinctions made by the DDF clear up the ambiguities raised by Pinker. For example, slavery is an extreme deprivation of a person’s social dignity but cannot violate their ontological dignity. We do indeed develop and demonstrate moral dignity through upright behavior, but ontological dignity is innate.
Pinker had argued that the valid moral concerns often expressed in terms of dignity could be better made in terms of autonomy, while presumably those moral claims that could not be reduced to expressions of autonomy should be dismissed. DI, on the other hand, describes a more complex relationship between dignity and human freedom. Pinker raises the objection that, in the bioethical context, appeals to dignity often stand in the way of scientific progress or therapeutic benefits. But couldn’t the same point be made about autonomy? It is not difficult to think of cases where disregarding the autonomy of test subjects could lead to more rapid scientific discovery, or where a patient’s autonomy might be disregarded “for their own good.” Indeed, Pinker himself admits it was precisely to address cases like these that the field of bioethics, including the principle of respect for autonomy, was developed. The autonomy of persons is a fact, but what is it about personal autonomy that demands that it be respected, that it cannot be compromised for some supposed greater good? It seems that the principle of autonomy requires something like dignity to explain why autonomy must be respected. There must be some quality of the person that gives value to their freedom of choice.
DI does not make this point directly, but rather insists that human dignity must be lived out in freedom: “All people are called to manifest the ontological scope of their dignity on an existential and moral level as they, by their freedom, orient themselves toward the true good in response to God’s love” (22). This argument hearkens back to the teaching of Dignitatis Humanae, the Second Vatican Council’s 1965 Declaration on Religious Freedom, which argued that, as a necessary consequence of the dignity of the human person, each of us has the right to seek out and hold to the truth in freedom (2). DI, however, returns to the earlier distinction between ontological dignity and moral dignity, insisting that while a person can never lose their (ontological) dignity, they are called to freely manifest their dignity, or in other words to demonstrate moral dignity (22).
Although the DDF links dignity and freedom, it seeks to counter the view that equates dignity with an absolute sense of freedom, or a completely individualistic sense of freedom. Dignity is not “the ability to express and realize every individual preference or subjective desire” (25). DI warns that this view has led to the proliferation of various supposed rights that lack an ontological basis in human nature. Rather, the DDF insists that “the defense of human dignity is based on the constitutive demands of human nature” (25). Indeed, it goes so far as to say, “[T]he duties that stem from recognizing the dignity of the other and the corresponding rights that flow from it have a concrete and objective content based on our shared human nature” (25). This is fine as far as it goes, although I wish DI better recognized that human dignity is also reflected or expressed in the unique and free unfolding of each of our lives, and in our personal vocations. There is no reason to hold this unique, personal aspect of being human and our shared, objective human nature as opposites. I’ve written about this dynamic elsewhere, although in the context of holiness rather than dignity. It’s worth considering how DI’s treatment of concrete issues where human dignity is put at risk in its fourth section would have been different with a more balanced view of the subjective and objective aspects of human nature, but that’s a discussion for another day.
Finally, does DI confirm Pinker’s suspicion that the notion of dignity is simply a Trojan horse for religious dogma, and in particular Catholic dogma? The answer is complex. On the one hand, the declaration insists that the principle of infinite and inalienable dignity “is fully recognizable even by reason alone” (1), and likewise that “even human reason can arrive at this conviction through reflection and dialogue” (6). Indeed, the purpose here seems to be to show how the concept of dignity can serve as the foundation for Pope Francis’s vision of global fraternity across cultures and religions, as expressed, for example, in his encyclical Fratelli Tutti.
On the other hand, DI does not explain how one could come to recognize the infinite and inalienable dignity of the person through the use of reason alone. This is probably just as well. I’m reminded that the First Vatican Council’s Dogmatic Constitution Dei Filius similarly taught that “God, the beginning and end of all things, can be known with certitude by the natural light of human reason from created things,” but likewise did not spell out the arguments for this conclusion. I have always been persuaded by the interpretation of Orestes Brownson, the 19th-century American Catholic author, who argued that not only does Dei Filius not provide the definitive argument for God’s existence, but neither does it assert that anyone has in fact ever attained certitude of God’s existence by the use of reason alone. The document, according to Brownson, leaves open the possibility that in the world as it actually exists, whatever knowledge of God humankind has attained has always been at least touched by grace (Brownson is anticipating 20th-century theologians like Karl Rahner, S.J. here).
Similarly, DI seems to suggest that it was God’s revelation as recorded in the Scriptures that laid the groundwork for a robust understanding of human dignity (11). Biblical revelation has acted like a leaven as humankind’s understanding of dignity has progressed: “As Christian thought developed, it also prompted and accompanied the progress of humanity’s reflection on the concept of dignity” (13). Intriguingly, DI argues that even in the work of philosophers who contributed to the development of a more secular notion of dignity, like René Descartes and Immanuel Kant, “one can still strongly perceive echoes of Revelation” (13) (There’s also a growing scholarly literature bringing to the fore the religious and theological background of both Descartes and Kant’s thought). Therefore, although DI suggests that dignity is a concept that can be known through reason, it likewise seems to say that the human reason’s capacity to understand this concept has been fertilized by revelation.
The second section of the document points to three Christian convictions in particular that “[give] human dignity an immeasurable value and [reinforce] its intrinsic demands” (17):
The source of human dignity is the creation of humankind in the image of God, the reflection of the love of the Creator. Because the human person is created as a unity of body and soul, and both body and soul are united as the image of God, not just the human soul has dignity, but also the body (18).
Likewise, “[T]he dignity of the human person was revealed in its fullness when the Father sent his Son, who assumed human existence to the full” (19). Jesus Christ revealed the dignity of the human person not only in the Incarnation itself, however, but also in his ministry, which focused on those whose social and existential dignity had been degraded, such as the sick, the disabled, and the poor (18).
Lastly, human dignity is revealed in our vocation to eternal life and fellowship with God (19-20).
Although DI claims that the concept of dignity can be known through reason alone, its focus seems to be more on providing this theological framework for understanding dignity, for reasons I will explore in a later article. Sarah Carter, writing at her Substack Recovering Catholic, argues that DI’s theological treatment of the issue is inadequate, particularly when compared with the Second Vatican Council’s more robust treatment of the issue in Gaudium et Spes (particularly paragraph 22 of that document). In Carter’s words:
Dignitas makes virtually no mention of the Passion, the Cross, or the paschal mystery as the foundation for our understanding of the human person, and therefore we never get the doctrine’s great crescendo: that human dignity is most clearly glimpsed when we look upon the Crucified Jesus and see with our own eyes a God who considered human beings worthy of rescue at the cost of his own Son, who now invites all men and women into the inner dynamic of salvation, calling them to live not just a “good life” but a cruciform life—that is, a life marked by the willingness to suffer and die for others’ sake. That is what the Church means by human dignity; all the rest is derivative.
One might add that while DI teaches that “the dignity of the human person was revealed in its fullness when the Father sent his Son, who assumed human existence to the full,” it likewise asserts that, “By uniting himself with every human being through his Incarnation, Jesus Christ confirmed that each person possesses an immeasurable dignity simply by belonging to the human community” (19, emphasis added). Does the Incarnation reveal something of the fullness of human dignity that could not be known otherwise, as Carter (and Gaudium et Spes) suggests, or does it simply confirm what could theoretically be known by reason? I am sympathetic to Carter’s point here, but I suspect the ambiguity arises from the DDF’s interest in appealing to the consciences of adherents of other religions and no religion by means of reason.
Regardless, DI responds to skeptics like Pinker by insisting that dignity can be known through reason, but it raises the possibility that reflecting on human dignity cannot help but raise our minds to the religious and theological, as was likewise reflected in the work of the contributors to Human Dignity and Bioethics back in 2008.
In a later post, I want to return to a discussion of how DI’s theological treatment of the concept of dignity is a response to arguments against dignity by Catholics of a more traditionalist bent, but I also want to show how the declaration does not provide an adequate account of how the Church’s understanding of dignity has developed, an account that would be an important tool in defending the doctrine of dignity against traditionalist critics.
I also want to write soon about a news item from earlier this week: Back in 2023, the FBI produced an internal memo warning of the risk of “radical traditionalist” Catholics resorting to political extremism. When the existence of the document was revealed, critics claimed the FBI was targeting Catholics for their religious beliefs, and the FBI withdrew the document. This past week, however, the Department of Justice’s Inspector General issued a report concluding that while the memo violated the Department’s professional standards, it was not motivated by religious bias nor by “malicious intent.” In fact, the memo was inspired by the case of a real domestic terrorism suspect who attended, and who attempted to recruit accomplices at, a traditionalist Catholic congregation. I want to explore some of the religious and political aspects of this story that will be of interest to readers of Window Light.