The common good can help us avoid two modern temptations—one on the
left and one on the right. "Leftists tend to be concerned about
'humanity' as a collective," Notre Dame sociologist Christian Smith told
me via e-mail. "If some heads have to roll to improve humanity's lot,
so be it. A commitment to the common good opposes that entirely. Each
and every person has dignity—the good society is one which allows the
thriving of all persons, especially the weak and vulnerable."
And yet, Smith pointed out, "the common good" challenges the
libertarian stream of conservatism as well: "Individualists only want to
see each individual live as they please, as long as they don't obstruct
the ability of other individuals to do the same. They don't think
anything is 'common,' except whatever minimal infrastructures are needed
to create equal opportunity."
Focusing on the common good has another positive effect, Smith noted:
It can both draw Christians into engagement with the wider society and
prevent that engagement from becoming "all about politics." Essential to
the common good, all the way back through Aquinas to Aristotle, has
been the insight that the best forms of human flourishing happen in
collectives that are smaller than, and whose origins are earlier than,
the nation-state. Family above all, but also congregations, guilds, and
clubs—these "private associations," with all their particular loyalties,
paradoxically turn out to be essential to public flourishing. If we
commit ourselves to the common good, we must become more public in our
thinking and choices, and at the same time not too public. The common
good is sustained most deeply where people know each other's names and
faces—especially when it comes to the care of the vulnerable, who need
more than policies to flourish.
Alan Jacobs is not so sure.
