"Prelude
to Irony: The Princeton Theology and the
Practice of Presbyterian Missions in Northern Siam, 1867-1880."
Table of Contents 
Title Page Abstract
Two
good friends, at least, have encouraged me to publish my doctoral
dissertation, "Prelude to Irony," and at one point I
actually started to work on that project. Dissertations, however,
are not meant to be published; it takes a great deal of work to
turn one into a book; and I found that it was very difficult to
go back over "old territory" with any enthusiasm when
there is so much that is new to work on. In developing herbswanson.com,
it occurred to me that this website offers a good alternative,
one that is low-cost and is easily available to those who might
want to use the dissertation. Thus, "Prelude to Irony"
appears here in its entirety. Readers will remember, of course,
that "Prelude to Irony" is protected by copyright laws
and cannot be reproduced (other than downloaded for personal,
one-copy use only) or quoted without my written consent except
for brief quotations for scholarly purposes. For those readers
who might be interested in my own retrospective thoughts on the
dissertation, a brief "introductory postscript" is found
immediately below.
Herb Swanson
Ban Dok Daeng
August 2003
"Prelude
to Irony" An Introductory Postscript
Postmodern
insights into the nature of "the text" have made us
more keenly aware of the fact that every written work has its
own history, which makes the text more fluid, less absolute
than its final hardcopy form implies. "Prelude to Irony"
is no exception. It actually encompasses three research "projects"
that spanned more than a decade from the late 1980s to the first
years of the new century. After I finished my M.A. thesis at
the University of Maryland in 1987 and returned to Chiang Mai
in January 1988, I began to work on an intellectual history
of Presbyterian missions in Siam and made substantial progress
in the requisite research. I don't remember how it was that
I got sidetracked, but sidetracked I was, and all of that interesting
and useable material has lain fallow in a series of computers
for many years. Some time later, I began to do research intended
to lead to a new history of Christianity in northern Siam, and
again I was sidetracked—this time by an "emergency"
research project that my employer, the Church of Christ in Thailand,
asked me to carry out (in 1993, if memory serves). Somehow,
I never got back to complete the northern Thai church history
either, even though I'd finished about 60% or more of the research
and written up a couple of draft chapters.
Then, early
in 1999, came the opportunity to do a doctoral dissertation
under the auspices of the Melbourne College of Divinity (MCD),
Melbourne University. I wrote the dissertation proposal that
I submitted to the MCD with all of the material I had collected
over the years in mind, knowing that I had already completed
half or more of the research that needed to be done to complete
the dissertation. The stated goal of the dissertation
was to follow-up on issues that my Master's thesis had left
unresolved, particularly concerning the relationship of the
Princeton Theology to the conduct of Presbyterian missions in
northern Siam. The unstated goal was to make use finally
of the research notes already in hand and thereby reduce significantly
the time needed to complete the dissertation. Lingering over
doctoral studies for five or six years when you're 28 or 32
is one thing, but when you're 52 time is of the essence. Paying,
furthermore, even the MCD's reasonable tuition and fees with
baht instead of dollars provided added motivation for getting
on with it quickly.
This is not
to say that I did not have to do any further research; I did.
But I was able to focus that research on the Princeton Theology
and its background rather than on the northern Siam materials.
I made the conscious decision that I had done more than enough
research on missionary history and its background and that while
I could surely improve on that research it would have to do.
The goal of a doctoral dissertation, or any other scholarly
work for that matter, is not perfection. One has to do, rather,
the best one can under the constraints of time, finances, access
to resources, experience, and institutional expectations.
Thinking
myself really rather clever for having stored away so much "done"
research before beginning the dissertation, I did not anticipate
the problems I would face in beating and punching that data into
a unified dissertation. In some ways, it never did quite come
together. I took Chapter Four, Chapter
Five, and Chapter Six
largely from my research into the history of the northern Thai
church, some of which was already written up, and folded into
it some of the research on the intellectual history of Presbyterian
missions in Siam. One consequence of the beating and folding process
is that those chapters contain more straightforward historical
information than is necessary and that sometimes they do not tie
back into the Princeton material particularly well. Chapter
Three, meanwhile, is a distillation of the more immediate
research that I did on the Princeton Theology and almost stands
by itself apart from the rest of the dissertation. It is, indeed,
the kernel of a book of its own, which I doubt will ever be written.
Finally, Chapter One and Chapter
Two are each something of a patchwork:
the first section of each chapter comes largely from the older
research, the second section from the newer research. The dissertation
holds together well enough to get the doctorate, but I suspect
it would have been a more seamless piece of work if I'd done all
of the research together in one process.
In the end,
"Prelude to Irony" does hang together rather well
even if it was a headache to attain even the level of unity
achieved. The more serious problem with the way I approached
the dissertation is that I did not bring my previous research
into the Laos Mission into "dialogue" with my later
research on the Princeton Theology until well into the writing
process. That is to say, I went blithely along with my original
thesis— that the Princeton Theology directly influenced
missionary thought and behavior in northern Siam—until
I was ready to start writing up the last three chapters. When
I did began to write those last chapters, I had finally to think
seriously about Princeton in relation to Chiang Mai; and the
deeper I went into things the more clear it became that I could
not prove the thesis. Opps. It's not that the thesis is wrong
absolutely; rather, two issues cropped up unexpectedly. First,
it turns out that all five of the women related to the Laos
Mission in its pioneer era came out of a theological background
that was, if anything, more New School than Old School Presbyterian.
The Princeton Theology was Old School through and through, although
moderately so. How, I finally had to ask myself, can I square
the supposed influence of the Princeton Theology with the fact
that the majority of the Laos Mission's pioneer members seem
to have grown into their Christian faith under the influence
of New School Presbyterianism mixed in with New England Congregationalism?
Second, the theological reflections contained in the missionary
literature are scattered, brief, and imprecise. It is impossible
to discern from them with any precision the influence of one
or another theological schools or traditions. The contents of
those records suggest that the Princeton Theology probably influenced
to a degree the two leading members of the Laos Mission up to
1880, the Revs. Daniel McGilvary and Jonathan Wilson. There
is no way, however, to prove that such was the case. I only
came to the full realization of the significance of these problems
as I approached the Conclusion. Opps, indeed.
In reviewing
the earlier chapters of "Prelude to Irony," it became
clear that my original assumption concerning the influence of
the Princeton Theology suffused those chapters; cleansing them
would require a major rewrite. In the end, I decided for a number
of reasons (time, the press of other duties, that same disinclination
to go over "old" territory, and the fact that the
index would have to be redone virtually in its entirety) to
take the "middle way" and do some re-wording of key
points in early chapters and insert a clear statement of my
revised thesis in the Introduction
and make the case for it in the Conclusion.
The careful reader, however, will realize that "Prelude
to Irony" as it stands today talks out of both sides of
its mouth concerning the influence of Princeton on the Laos
Mission. Sometimes it still sounds as if there was considerable
influence. At other points, it claims that we can't know if
there was any influence, let alone the extent of it. I suspect
that one reason, semi-subconsciously; I've decided not to try
to turn the dissertation into a book is because I know it'll
take considerable effort to attain a single voice on this issue
of Princeton's influence.
While I am
sure that Princeton did actually have some influence on the
Laos Mission, there is no way to prove that it did. The central
problem, to state the matter more fully, is that it is virtually
impossible to say that the missionaries in northern Siam wrote
any particular sentence or paragraph because the Princeton Theology
influenced them. There is no smoking gun as it were. While that
theology is distinct in some ways, it also shared many themes
and ideas with other evangelical nineteenth-century American
theologies. Who is to say where an individual missionary acquired
a particular idea or doctrine, unless they themselves say where
it came from? In the case of the Laos Mission, no missionary
states unequivocally that she or he thought in a certain way
because of Princeton. Moreover, since the theological statements
contained in the missionary literature do tend to be general,
intermittent, brief, and generic they again cannot be traced
to or attributed to any particular school of thought. In order
to finally resolve my own thinking on the matter of Princeton's
influence, I sat down several months after the dissertation
was done and wrote an article entitled "Princeton and the
Laos Mission: A Case Study of Princeton Theological Seminary's
Influence in the Nineteenth Century," which has been accepted
by the Journal of Presbyterian History for publication
in 2004. In that article, I argue that scholars who claim that
Princeton Seminary had a wide theological influence on the Presbyterian
Church have not made a clean case for that influence; and I
use the example of the Laos Mission to make the point.
In the end,
"Prelude to Irony" does make a substantial case, in
my opinion, for its revised thesis that the Princeton Theology
is a useful tool for helping us better understand why the missionaries
thought and behaved as they did. The massive Princeton literature
fleshes out many of the idea alluded to in a fragmentary way in
the missionary literature. Presbyterian missionary thinking and
behavior in historical northern Siam, clearly shared important
affinities with Princeton irrespective of whether or not it directly
influenced any particular members of the Laos Mission.
Dissertations
are learning experiences. What did I learn? First and most obviously
from what I've written above, I learned that it is virtually
impossible to attribute American Presbyterian missionary thinking
in northern Siam to any one identifiable school of thought.
The records of missionary theology that have come down to us
do not present precise, systematic descriptions of that theology,
and what they do contain is a more general theological perspective
that might be typified as conservative American evangelicalism
for want of a better term. There is no question but that the
broad currents of nineteenth-century American theological and
ideological thinking had a determinative influence on the first
generation of members of the Laos Mission. Given the historical
record as it stands today, it is impossible to separate out
Princeton or any other school of thought from that broad, general,
and diffuse influence.
Second,
I am not a church historian by training, and working on
this dissertation provided me with an excellent opportunity to
become more knowledgeable in American church history, especially
Presbyterian intellectual history. In the process, one thing that
struck me forcefully as I studied Princeton in its American context
is how incredibly contextual the Princeton Theology was prior
to 1860. It responded creatively to the main currents of nineteenth-century
American thought up to the Civil War but then increasingly failed
to engage those currents after that axial event. The particular
lessons I learned are: one, the almost idolization of contextual
theologies in many corners of the church in our day needs to be
tempered with the realization that theologies can be contextual
without being necessarily faithful to the Gospel; two, at the
same time, theologies that fail to lodge themselves within the
main currents of their time and place are doomed to a slow death.
Living theologies have to be contextual, that is, but the mere
fact of their contextuality does not insure their faithfulness
to the biblical witness.
A third lesson
I learned was greater respect for nineteenth-century conservative
Presbyterian theology. I find a great deal in the Princeton
Theology and other evangelical American theologies of that era
objectionable, particularly their radical dualism; but one cannot
immerse oneself in the writings of the Hodges and Alexanders
without gaining a serious respect for their intellectual and
theological skills. The Princeton Theology had an integrity
of its own that must be respected. This increased respect for
and appreciation of Princeton carries over, I think, to the
old-time Presbyterian missionaries who served in northern Siam
as well. I still think they "messed up" some things
and messed them up rather badly, but one really cannot expect
that they would think and act "outside the box" of
their own day anymore than we do in ours—and God forgive
us for the ways in which we are messing up our own times and
futures!
A fourth
lesson I learned has to do with intellectual history. Charles
Hodge has been roundly and widely attacked by modern scholars
for his supposed failure to integrate major intellectual elements
of his times and his Reformed heritage into a consistent whole.
These scholars attack him for being intellectually inconsistent,
and they are correct, I suppose, in a formal sense in their
criticism. Sometimes Hodge was inconsistent. The question I
learned to ask through my dissertation research was, "So
what?" Having made their case against Hodge, these self-same
scholars invariably fail to exhibit how Hodge's inconsistencies
actually weakened his theology in any way. They assert weaknesses
without demonstrating them. To my way of thinking, the great
failure of Hodge and his fellow Princetonians (no women belonged
to the club!) was their failure to adapt themselves to the new
intellectual climate that emerged in the United States after
the Civil War. Recently, I've become enamored with the thought
of Edward W. Said, particularly his treatment of Orientalism,
and again there is a whole class of scholars who have made much
of Said's admitted methodological inconsistencies. Yet, Said
has been one of the most influential scholars of our times,
and from my own reading it seems to me that his inconsistencies,
such as they are, enliven his work rather than detract from
it. They open doors to further reflection. Integrity and creativity
are far more important in scholarship than consistency, and
both Hodge and Said, each in their own very different way, demonstrate
these more important scholarly values.
Finally and
not surprisingly, the experience of working through "Prelude
to Irony" helped me to settle on a concrete agenda for
my own post-Prelude research. On the one hand, I discovered
a heightened interest in both historical and contemporary currents
in American and Western intellectual history. I hope to do some
publishing in both nineteenth-century American Presbyterian
history and in more contemporary Western intellectual history
that has nothing to do per se with Thai church history. On the
other hand, it is time for me to get back to serious investigation
of the history of Protestantism in Thailand, an investigation
that I hope will lead to one or more books in the not too distant
future. In a sense, then, "Prelude to Irony" marks
the culmination of my personal quest to better understand why
the Presbyterian missionaries in northern Siam behaved as they
did and, in particular, made the mistakes I think they made.
Given the limitations we face in terms of the historical record
and my own professional limitations, I feel that I do understand
something of why they did what they did; and I am, I trust,
less blatantly judgmental of them for the understanding.
Yet, as readers
of "Prelude to Irony" will quickly realize, I do remain
critical of the way in which the Laos Mission and its individual
members communicated the Christian faith in northern Siam. I
remain critical of Protestant and especially evangelical missionary
behavior since World War II, of the frighteningly large and
pervasive extent to which their attitudes and behavior ignorantly
mimic the failed ways and means of the nineteenth-century. If
"Prelude to Irony" is even slightly useful in exposing
the continued dangers of foreign-incubated missionary ideologies
to the churches of Thailand, I will count it a success.
I cannot
close without once again expressing my deepest appreciation
for the wise and helpful way in which Dr. Philip Hughes, my
advisor, assisted me in the process of getting through to the
doctorate. He was the one who introduced me to the Melbourne
College of Divinity and facilitated the application process.
He was an important go between and patient hand holder when
things didn't go as quickly or smoothly as I wanted them to
go. Philip well understood that at my somewhat advanced age
and with my long experience with the material I was working
on I did not need the advice and guidance young graduate student's
need. He wisely and patiently did precisely and only those things
that needed doing to facilitate the total process; without him
I would not be "Dr. Swanson" today. It bears repeating
one more time, "Thank you, Philip."
The good
people of Ban Dok Daeng, church and community, deserve thanks
in an entirely different way. Although not directly involved
in the dissertation process they have profoundly informed and
influenced my understanding of the northern Thai; and one of
the most important experiences of my life has been the opportunity
to share in the life of the church for over twenty years and
to live in the community for more than ten years. Both have
taught me to appreciate the pain and, at times, anger northern
Thai Protestants and their Buddhist relatives and neighbors
feel about the religious divide that lies between them. In times
past, the two faiths of Ban Dok Daeng lived in a continual state
of underlying tension that occasionally burst out in hurtful
overt dissension. By the grace of God, we have learned that
the divide and the pain are unnecessary, being the products
of a pharisaical Western religious ideology. We have discovered,
furthermore, that the antidote for that ideology is heavy, repeated
doses of localized, Asianized readings of the New Testament
and the practice of what Koyama in Waterbuffalo Theology
so succinctly calls "neighborology." If I have confidence
in the conclusions reached in the dissertation, it is because
they reflect the actual heritage of Ban Dok Daeng, as well as
the heritage of the many other northern Thai churches and communities
it has been my privilege to study.
Finally,
I want to take the opportunity of this brief "Introductory
Postlude" to express again an even deeper level of profound
thanks to Warunee. "Runee" has changed, deepened,
and enlivened my life in ways that go beyond words to express.
She is the mother of and model for Neela and Nahree, two fine
women of whom we are incredibly proud. She remains my daily
tutor in things Thai. Doctoral candidates, especially aging
ones, have tantrums, trepidations, and waste much creative energy
on anxious anxieties; it was Runee who quietly bore all that
and spoke the healing words that helped to keep me on track—not
just for the dissertation, but for the daily living of life.
It bears repeating time and again, "Thank you, Nee."
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