U.S. News covers the Cardus Education Survey in Washington D.C. WASHINGTON, May 29 (UPI) -- The graduates of Protestant Christian schools have different traits than those who attend Catholic and non-religious private schools, U.S. researchers say. Read more.

A few decades ago, Mark Noll wrote The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind as an “epistle from a wounded lover,” lamenting that “there is not much of an evangelical mind.” Christians have largely abandoned universities, the arts, and other realms of “high culture,” he argued. A decade later, Michael Lindsay reported the evangelical movement, usually thought of as belonging to the “disadvantaged ranks of the stratification system” had advanced in recent years so that “it now wields power in just about every segment of American society.” Read the full article from Capital Commentary here.

Insofar as it has an official stance on the morality of waging war, the Church of England is broadly committed to the "just war" tradition, a developing body of principles governing the legitimacy of military force and the constraints on its use, now partially encoded in the international law of war. So when senior Anglican clergy pronounce publicly on the deployment of military force (as they have every right to do) it is natural to inquire whether their thinking is materially informed by that tradition. The archbishop of Canterbury's disclosure of his "very uncomfortable feeling"' about Osama bin Laden being unarmed when he was killed was coaxed out of him during a short press conference in which he could not have been expected to set out the full stall of Anglican (or his own) thinking. But Professor Tom Wright, until recently Bishop of Durham, also made no mention of that body of thought in his more considered opinion piece. Wright implied that the killing was an act of "wild-west vigilantism" driven by the myth of American exceptionalism. That myth has certainly played a recurring and sometimes terribly damaging role in American foreign policy and it certainly merits a Christian response informed, for example, by the kind of biblical critique of "empire" powerfully rearticulated in recent years by Wright himself. But to assess whether or not any particular US military operation was an instance of "vigilantism", we need to go beyond the myth of exceptionalism and test the act against specific just war criteria. Just war principles were originally formulated to apply to military engagements between states, but they can legitimately be extended to an international terrorist organisation like al-Qaida, which has openly declared (and amply proved) itself actively engaged in a violent global campaign against the US and many other states involving the indiscriminate mass killing and maiming of civilians. The Metropolitan police chief put it thus: "Osama bin Laden led an organisation which is responsible for the injury and death of thousands of people worldwide in the name of an extreme and perverted ideology, committed to the use of terror and murder to achieve their aims." Bin Laden was not only "a war criminal", as the archbishop rightly noted, but arguably also an active combatant. The just war criterion of "just cause", in this case the protection of innocent civilians and military personnel from arbitrary attack, clearly legitimates putting the leadership of such an organisation out of action. If military means are the only option, then the just war principle of "last resort" permits them. Before the raid the US had every reason to suppose that al-Qaida was constantly engaged in planning or encouraging such acts (and subsequent reports confirm that), which makes its leadership a legitimate target for capture or killing, at any time. Assuming just cause, did the methods used in this operation meet the just war principle of "just means"? This requires, for example, that the force used be proportionate to the end in view and that there be no intentional killing of noncombatants. As of now, we do not yet possess sufficient information about precisely what transpired during the raid itself to reach a firm conclusion on that question. This may be why most experts in international law have so far hesitated to offer definitive judgements. The precise requirements of "just means" depend crucially on the exact circumstances of the case. For example, whether it might be just to kill an unarmed Bin Laden could depend on whether he was legitimately assumed to be wearing a concealed suicide vest. But UN human rights investigators (and others) are certainly justified in calling for as full disclosure as possible in order to establish whether or not the rule of law was indeed upheld in this case. Another crucial just war principle is "right authority," requiring that the agent taking the action is a legitimate political authority. The US government is a legitimate authority, and since US citizens are a principal al-Qaida target their government is entitled to take necessary action against it to protect them. But should it have deferred to the legitimate authority of the Pakistan government to carry out the assault, or at least sought its permission? International law does seem to rule out violations of another state's sovereignty even in pursuit of a just cause. So if the Pakistan government could have been relied upon to carry out the raid successfully, the answer would be yes. But, notwithstanding the costly efforts of Pakistan against terrorism, the fact remains that there was a high risk that any information passed even to its highest levels of government could have led to Bin Laden being tipped-off. So it is at least arguable that in this exceptional case, the US was morally and legally justified in bypassing that requirement. This doesn't yet amount to a conclusive defence of the US action but it does at least gesture towards the kind of assessment required if a military operation is to be deemed a case of vigilantism or of justice.

Decisions about the future of the Ontario College of Trades are hampered by a lack of research, says Hamilton-based think-tank Cardus. "It is a classic case of building infrastructure without a plan, and it leaves Ontario's construction industry, already facing a severe shortage of workers, innovation-vulnerable," says Michael Van Pelt, Cardus president. "Workers in this province might soon face fines or be prevented from working in their trade, all by a body which has not provided clear reasons backed by independent research."

Kirsty Wark's frozen, disdainful grimace said it all. Anchoring Newsnight on the evening of the royal wedding, she found herself completely at a loss to know how to respond to Martin Bashir's unexpected mention of religion. Presumably invited as a studio guest on the strength of his explosive interview with Princess Diana in 1995, Bashir had the poor taste to point out that the event for which the BBC had been providing round-the-clock coverage was actually a religious service. Wark and her other two guests, like pretty much every commentator throughout the day - had been largely taken up with the surface imagery of the day's proceeding. Some of this was quite innocent, though not even a hardy, seasoned Newsnight presenter like Wark could resist yet more obsessive indulgence in "that dress". Even myth-busting historian Simon Schama had been getting progressively intoxicated throughout the day with his own gushing monarchical sentimentalism. Bashir broke ranks by choosing to point out, jarringly but accurately, that other commentators had been ignoring the actual content of the service in Westminster Abbey which was, not surprisingly, religious. Citing the rich theological content of the hymns and scripture reading, he proceeded to offer a brief summary of the bishop of London's homily which had spoken of the wedding not as a royal or a celebrity marriage but, as one might expect from an Anglican bishop - as a Christian event in which marriage is seen as established and sustained by God. Palpably discomfited, Wark abruptly turned away from Bashir and yanked the discussion back to the day's familiar secular preoccupations. A journalist with a modicum of religious fluency would have followed up Bashir's surprising and arresting remarks with a question such as 'so do you think the religious nature of the service has any real significance for British society today?' Except that the BBC already knows the answer to that question so it needn't even be put. This is only another familiar episode revealing the religious illiteracy of much of the contemporary British media (CiF Belief excepted, of course). Wark's blanking of Bashir might, perhaps, be defended by media professionals as a necessary consequence of media "neutrality". The argument would be that to have indulged Bashir's remarks about the bishop's Christian theology of marriage might have been seen as favouring a specific religious perspective, or to give undue weight to religion in a secular society more interested in fashion houses than houses of prayer. But completely ignoring the theological content which alone can make any sense at all of the richly-textured liturgical goings on in Westminster Abbey is itself a substantive and controversial statement about the social significance of religion in general and the constitutional significance of Christianity in particular. It may or may not be true that religion has become largely insignificant in British society, but there is no neutral or objective standpoint from which to reach that judgement. Will the media dare to have a serious discussion about that question? If coverage of the royal wedding poses a question to the media about the principle of journalistic neutrality, the service itself poses a different one to the church about the principle of Anglican establishment. The Church of England cannot be held primarily responsible for the media's ignoring of the theological content of the service over which the church presided (though perhaps it might have stipulated, as a condition of allowing TV cameras into the Abbey, that one of its spokespersons should be given airtime to interpret the service). But it surely is primarily responsible for how far the liturgical offerings it seems so eager to supply to what is a largely inattentive and uncomprehending nation are actually consistent with its own theological integrity, even its self-respect. For many defenders of establishment, the royal wedding will no doubt provide glorious confirmation of their claim that the church remains the spiritual hub of the nation, sending out signals of transcendence from the heart of a unifying national celebration. For many opponents, it will raise the question whether the meaning of even a robustly orthodox wedding liturgy, for such it certainly was, as Martin Bashir so tactlessly pointed out, is effectively neutered when placed in service of a survival strategy for a political institution with an uncertain future. They will interpret the day's events as yet further evidence of church's captivity to civil religion, and will ask whether on April 29th the church really "served" the nation or rather was "used" by it. Will the church dare to have a serious discussion about that question?

Locavorism might be the sexiest trend of the decade, and Wendell Berry is its prophet. His sharp criticisms of agriculture and food politics are only the leading edge of a growing dissatisfaction with how we relate to one another in the progressively enormous systems within which we have embedded, some would say compromised, our humanity. But this angry opposition is often mystifying to the politically and economically orthodox. Why would anyone resist the production of more food in a hungry world, or turn against the clear social and political advantages of modern systems and technology? Questions of humanity and justice in a globalized world seem at loggerheads, and rarely do the two sides meet. Two recent books are helpful to Christians who want to get their heads around this debate. Food policy expert Robert Paarlberg, professor of political science at Wellesley and associate at Harvard's Weatherhead Center for International Affairs, authored Food Politics: What Everyone Needs to Know. It's full of measured, carefully researched answers to food policy catfights, from "What causes famine?" to "Was the green revolution bad for the environment?" to "Is the food industry to blame for the way we eat?" By contrast, in What Matters? Economics for a Renewed Commonwealth, America's prophetic voice in the wilderness, Wendell Berry, takes the deep view on what he sees as the endemic crisis in modern agriculture and economy. The two books are studies in opposites: the one detached and dispassionate, the other fiery and poetic. Wendell Berry waxes long on our failures while Robert Paarlberg tries to build on our successes. Reading one against the other gives us a way to think, broadly and deeply, about food and, maybe, might also finally bring some political balance to the dinner table. Read the entire article at Books & Culture.

Ray Pennings quoted on, "For the love of God: Advance polls unite church and state at Easter" Read the article here.

Responsibility to protect, the key international doctrine at work in Libya, has a Good Samaritan sort of rub to it. Conceived out of the tragedy of Rwanda, it was a moral stake by the international community that never again would we walk along past unspeakable atrocities. It was a faith-full moment, a moment full of hope for a different way in global affairs that privileged innocence over power, justice over might and mercy over indifference. Yet until Libya, it was still just another paper idea on the books at the United Nations. Now, while the bombs are dropping in Libya and interventionists are getting fired up about responsibility to protect, or R2P, finally birthing a real humanitarian regime, it's worth putting some thought into how difficult and painful the birth of this Good Samaritan doctrine has proved to be. If R2P is our Good Samaritan moment, we've yet to reach down and bind any wounds, or open our homes. Dropping intervention from 40,000 feet (to paraphrase David Cameron) to score tactical hits on behalf of one side in a civil war is somewhat different than what the architects of R2P had in mind. Of course, we're sort of making this up as we go along. Clearly it was important to use the moral language of R2P and to have the French lead the way, lest the neo-conservative ghosts of the Bush doctrine come to haunt Obama. But this also means we have no real plan, which is neither consistent with R2P nor with Good Samaritan kind of foresight, to say nothing of the long Christian tradition of Just War. The strategy right now feels eerily like bombing Qaddafi into a stalemate and stalemates can't be broken from the air. Eventually someone has to go onto the ground and secure a peace. There was fragmented talk of arming the rebels to do it in our stead. But the ghosts of that past are worse still than the Bush doctrine. If this is R2P, it's R2P-lite, which still might be better than no R2P at all. But for Good Samaritan Christians, the justness of this conflict is evaporating by the day as U.N. powers dither ever longer on if and how this civil war can be transitioned from stalemate to peace. At some point you need to get off your donkey and kneel in the ditch. All of which begins to suggest why R2P hasn't made inroads into interventions in places like Ivory Coast, where bombs have also fallen and the prospect of a stable government remains tenuous. Disembodied air power won't tip the balance to just peace in the Ivory Coast or, for that matter, in Somalia or Haiti or, probably, Libya. R2P advocates who are anxiously waiting for an international coalition to act on these and other failed states will wait a long time. American power has developed an allergy to neo-con state building, albeit buttressed by a colossal deficit. But one thing the neo-cons had right is this: when you drop the bombs, you're in for the long haul. It's not enough to stalemate the bad guys and hope for the best. Good Samaritan politics don't abide a quick fix. There is no early in, early out in R2P.

Among President Barack Obama's first acts was concluding a military procurement debate by vowing to veto the purchase of even one more F-22 fighter jet. He was firmly supported by Secretary of Defence Robert Gates, a Republican hawk from the Bush era, who pointed out during an interview with Foreign Policy magazine that the U.S. already had 187 of the jets, and not one had ever been used to fight a war. Whatever the strategic merit of sacking the F-22, the episode exposed the utter folly of letting bureaucratic inertia propel purchasing decisions in the absence of a vigorous public policy debate about the actual purpose of buying military hardware. Sadly, Canadians are following the folly rather than learning the lesson. Our debate over buying 65 F-35 fighter jets has stalled at hardware, taking a quintessentially Canadian turn in the worst sense: narcissistic, navel-gazing, insecure and bureaucratic. The national debate, both on and off the Hill, has obsessed over technical minutiae. Is the F-35 too slow? Is stealth necessary? Is it expensive or unreliable technology? Should the process have been open to competitive tender? These are bureaucratic debates for a nation of soulless penny-pinchers, not a deep moral vision for Canada's role in the world. Debates over tools don't come before you set the project. Are we building a car or a barn? Then we'll know whether we need hammers. Rick Hillier, former chief of the defence staff, famously articulated the concept of three-block warfare (military action, peacekeeping and humanitarian aid) to respond to what he called the changing global security environment. This was a style of warfare that fit the reality of the day. The majority of conflict, most analysts agree, is not between states, but within states. All the F-35s in the world won't stabilize an Afghanistan or a Darfur. Canadian assets are in play in Libya, but, as British Prime Minister David Cameron has lamented, "you can't drop democracy from 40,000 feet." These seem to be the challenges with which our military will conceivably be tasked. Where do the F-35s fit in? Here's a basic pitch: The F-35s are a minimalist hat tip to Canada's taking its own sovereignty seriously. The Canadian air force isn't equipped or designed for long-term overseas three-block warfare. In other words, spending money on fighter jets means a more traditional security posture. It means money that's not going into foreign aid or development or even ground security. It means Canada is not just another NGO. We patrol airspace that we actually think is ours, and we have the ability to respond if folks aren't inclined to agree. Then why 65 jets? That's not nearly enough. It's a compromise number predicated on Canada's doing a little of everything. If we really need a serious interceptor squadron, where did this number come from? This will actually produce a smaller air force. If interceptors are part of Canadian sovereignty, this force won't be up to it. An election campaign is an opportunity to bring foreign policy into focus for Canadians. Our Afghan deadline is up, the bombs are falling in Libya, and eyes are turned to Ottawa for the next generation of foreign policy. The F-35 acquisition is a chance for the government to stake a bold claim on Canada's role in the world and, on the basis of that claim, to provide the ways and means to do it. Obsessive controversy over acquisition costs and technical capacities embarrasses our heritage, the proud service of Canada's military, and the moral imperative of our action in the world. If these are the tools we need, then let's not dither. But at least give us the dignity of debating the why of our role in the world. At least give us some soul in Canadian foreign policy.