Video
Creed
Easter
2 min read

Moments of empathy and expectation

As Easter approaches, many contemplate the critical events of Holy Week. These have inspired historic artists, from Da Vinci to anonymous sculptors, and modern creatives. Understand more about their work. Watch this set of short videos from the Visual Commentary on Scripture.

Nick is the senior editor of Seen & Unseen.

A medieval painting of angels holding the dead Christ.
Bellini's Dead Christ Supported by Two Angels.
Giovanni Bellini, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

To better understand the events of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holly Saturday and Easter Sunday, and the art works inspired by them, view and listen to these visual commentaries. Curated by The Visual Commentary on Scripture team of theologians and art historians, they give insights into the historical and contemporary cultural responses in art

The Visual Commentary on Scripture is a freely accessible online publication that provides theological commentary on the Bible in dialogue with works of art. 

Maundy Thursday: a global feast

On Maundy Thursday, Christians remember the meal Jesus ate with his disciples known as The Last Supper. This film explores the textual and cultural traditions that inspired three works of art of the Last Supper. It discusses two fifteenth-century paintings, one by Ercole de' Roberti and the other by Leonardo da Vinci, and a 20th century print by Japanese artist Sadao Watanabe.

Find out how the cultural context of diverse communities around the world drives responses to The Last Supper - from high altar pieces with lock and key, to common dining experiences across the centuries.

Good Friday: hope in the darkness

Good Friday is a ‘culminating moment’ that ‘provides evidence of both human violence and cruelty, as well as of grace and human love and charity.’ This film focuses on the Crucifixion of Jesus which is remembered by Christians on Good Friday. It discussing the ‘feast of imagery that is the Altarpiece with Scenes from the Passion of Christ carved by an unknown artist from Antwerp in the early 16th century.

Holy Saturday: considering life and death

Holy Saturday considers the time spent in the tomb by Jesus. This film focuses on a type of religious image known by its German name, an ‘Andachtsbild’ (plural Andachtsbilder). These types of art works shows Christ in his suffering or death, extracted from a narrative context to form a highly focused, and often very emotionally powerful, focus of devotion.

Capturing moments before and after the crucifixion - of a scarred back, bruised knees,  a mouth open for first breath, they compress ‘the spirit of a bigger story’ into single images that encourage empathy. Works carved or painted by the hands of Hans Leinberger, Juan de Valmaseda and Giovanni Belllini.

Easter Sunday: the loving look

On Easter Sunday, the Resurrection of Jesus is celebrated. In this film, VCS Director Ben Quash interviews filmmaker, playwright, author, and photographer Wim Wenders about his photograph 'The Road to Emmaus' (2000), where the risen Jesus is said to have met his disciples.

Wenders shares how he found and photographed The Road to Emmaus, capturing not only his favourite story – a ‘real road movie’ – but also creating his favourite image. The academy nominated director also explains why he loves to photograph places, and compares the ‘critical eye’ and the ‘loving eye’ that a documentary maker can use.

Explainer
Creed
Film & TV
Politics
Truth and Trust
6 min read

The BBC and the quest for Truth

Space for neutrality is shrinking; two French philosophers explain why

Graham is the Director of the Centre for Cultural Witness and a former Bishop of Kensington.

BBC News logo.
BBC.

Watching American news always feels very different from the British version. Changing channels from CNN to Fox News feels like you're switching to a different universe altogether, as on each one you're getting a very different interpretation of events. The BBC has always been thought to rise above this. In the UK and beyond, through the World Service, the Beeb has, until recently, been viewed as an oasis of impartial, authoritative reporting in a world of propaganda and state-run media.

Now, allegations of bias, with evidence that BBC editors doctored a speech of Donald Trump to make it sound worse than it was, one-sided coverage of transgender issues, and perceived anti-Israel prejudice, have led to doubts about the truthfulness of BBC reporting, and the resignations of the Director General Tim Davie and its CEO, Deborah Turness.

It does seem that the BBC has fallen into an echo chamber, reflecting the generally liberal, metropolitan left-leaning ethos of the chattering classes. And that is a problem, especially for a taxpayer-funded corporation. At the same time, it is much harder for media companies these days to be neutral. Once upon a time, there was perhaps a broad space for impartiality and a general trust that institutions like the BBC could be trusted to tell the truth. Trying to be politically and culturally balanced these days, however, is like trying to walk along an ever narrowing mountain arête with an increasingly slim path of independence, while the steep and sheer slopes of the culture wars beckon on either side. The idea of a media platform maintaining strict neutrality is becoming harder and harder to sustain these days.

In Britain, that narrow arête has become smaller and smaller, with the BBC perceived as falling on one side of the debate, and GB News emerging to offer a perspective from the other, offering different assessments on what's going on, increasingly mirroring their American counterparts.

Now there is a reason why this space for neutrality is narrowing, rooted in cultural and philosophical developments over the past 50 years or more.

Foucault’s challenge

In the 1970s and early 80s, French philosopher Michel Foucault taught a whole generation of students - and his ideas became embedded in universities across the world - that claims to truth were in essence assertions of power. Foucault had been a Marxist, believing that power had to be wrested away from the hands of the ruling classes and placed in the hands of the proletariat. After the Paris student riots of the late 1960s, he changed his mind and started to believe that power is never concentrated in one place. It flows in multiple directions in any human relationship or institution. In such interactions, all kinds of power dynamics are at play, and you need to be very watchful to notice how they work. Power produces ‘truth’ - in other words a justification for its existence - and such ‘truth’ produces power, in that this ‘truth’ reinforces the power relations it was designed to justify. He often claimed not to be making a moral judgement – in fact moral judgments were irrelevant: “My point”, he said, “is not that everything is bad, but that everything is dangerous.” If all truth is power, then nothing is neutral. Everything is dangerous. You can’t trust anyone.

The result is that there is really no such thing as a neutral, absolute truth. All claims to truth come from a particular perspective on things. There is no ‘view from nowhere’ that stands above all our limited perspectives, and therefore the idea of finding ultimate absolute truth is fruitless.

Foucault’s target was the idea inherited from the Enlightenment that we could find truth through impartial rational inquiry. So for him, the idea that something like the BBC was an arbiter of neutral, rational truth was a mirage all along. The irony is that if the BBC has drifted into a left-leaning echo chamber, it has wandered into space deeply influenced by Foucault’s ideas – ideas which by definition make its claim to any kind of neutrality increasingly difficult to sustain.

The prevalence of these ideas explains why it is harder and harder for news outlets to remain neutral, or claim to offer the truth of things. 

Pascal’s perspective

So what does Christian theology say to this? At one point in his Pensées, another French philosopher, Blaise Pascal (unlike Foucault, a Christian one from the seventeenth century), says to the Foucault-type sceptic of his own day:

“I maintain that a perfectly genuine sceptic has never existed. Nature backs up helpless reason and stops it going so wildly astray.”

In other words, it's impossible to be a total sceptic about truth. Even the most progressive philosopher puts the kettle on and expects it to boil. He wakes in the morning expecting the sun to rise. There is such a thing as capital-T Truth and an order to the world that we didn’t create, and can be relied upon. We simply have to receive it and be grateful for it.

So far, so conservative. Yet Pascal then casts doubt on our ability to know that truth absolutely:

“Let us then concede to the sceptics what they have so often proclaimed, that truth lies beyond our reach and is an unattainable quarry, that it is not to be found here on earth, but really belongs in heaven, lying in the lap of God, to be known only in so far as it pleases him to reveal it.”

Perhaps surprisingly, Pascal agrees with Foucault, that absolute truth is unattainable to us here, at least if we think we can find it by some process of impartial human reason. Only God knows the truth. Our perspectives are inevitably limited and the only way we can know the ultimate truth is if it is revealed to us.

Which points to the heart of what a Christian believes about truth - that ultimately it is not so much rational and propositional but personal. Jesus does not say ‘here is the truth’, or ‘this is the truth’, but ‘I am the truth’.

Truth, in other words, is not just something you read on a page. It is not the product of brainy people sitting in a room analysing the data. Data always has to be interpreted and that's when fallible, inevitable and unspoken human prejudice creeps in. Truth is personal. You see it in a life – most perfectly in the life of Jesus. And if it is to be found here and now, it comes out of a life that has learned to be like Jesus, truthful in all kinds of simple personal interactions, honest even when it's inconvenient, generous even when you have little to give.

Truth, in Christian understanding, is a quality of life. It is not something that can be expected to arise from some august body of clever people – the Royal Society or the BBC. The BBC, like ITN, GB News, CNN, and Fox – and like the rest of us - will always be biased - and maybe it’s better to acknowledge that than try to hide it. To have a limited take on things is part of the human condition.

The only way we can rise above that to the ‘truth that comes from above’ as the Bible calls it, a truth which is “pure, peaceable, gentle, full of mercy, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy” is the spiritual path of inner growth, through prayer, the practice of goodness and compassion.

Truth is not something we possess but something we grow towards. When the BBC – or any corporation for that matter - embraces the spiritual path of yearning for the ‘truth that comes from above’, then we might get nearer to trusting it again. 

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