Showing posts with label Kenneth Craycraft. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kenneth Craycraft. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

A Review of The American Myth of Religious Freedom

by Matthew Anger




Americans must face a hard truth. The state of Florida put Terri Schiavo to death.
-Pat Buchanan

"There's room to wonder whether the bishops fully understand the risk they run.... Their efforts reflect a lack of understanding as to just how delicate the balance between church and state is in regard to the Catholic church in America. The Roman Catholic church, it needs to be remembered, is quite literally an un-American institution. It is not democratic. The church's views ... are sharply at odds with those that inform the laws of American secular society. And its principal policies are established by the Vatican in Rome."
-David Boldt Philadelphia Inquirer

SUMMARY: "There is no such thing as religious freedom, and the reason that such an assertion sounds so shocking is that we have been completely formed by the American myth."

Kenneth Craycraft's American Myth of Religious Freedom offers a long overdue Catholic appraisal of Church-State relations. It also represents a paradigm shift among conservative thinkers outside those traditionalist circles that have hitherto been most vocal on this taboo subject. Craycraft is the first non-traditionalist to break ranks and enunciate a thorough and appropriately merciless critique of the whole notion of "religious liberty." The concluding remarks of the book (p.164) leave little room for second-guessing:

There is no such thing as religious freedom, and the reason that such an assertion sounds so shocking is that we have been completely formed by the American myth.

This position was arrived at by Craycraft as part of a reassessment, in the 1980s and early `90s, of the writings of John Courtney Murray, S J. Best known for his treatise, We Hold These Truths, Fr. Murray was unquestionably the prime architect of the Second Vatican Council's Declaration on Religious Liberty (Dignitatis Humanae). Given the now "mainstream" status of indifferentism in Church-State relations, it is not surprising that Craycraft's forthright discussion caused heated controversy within the neoconservative Catholic camp. This clique comprises men like George Weigel, Michael Novak, and Richard John Neuhaus, S.J. Their typically pedantic reaction merely proves how wedded the dominant Catholic bloc is to an ideology which seeks to reconcile the irreconcilables of Americanist dogma and Church doctrine.

Synopsis of the Work

The American Myth presents a closely reasoned treatise which negates decades of sentimental talk about a supposedly Christian understanding of the "religious liberty" precept of the First Amendment. Craycraft's analysis runs the gamut of recent political studies, precedent-setting court decisions, and the question of the Founders' intent, and includes discussion of Jefferson, Madison, and the formative ideas of English secularist philosopher John Locke.

The sections of the book that stand out most for their clarity and vigor are those directly treating the problem of secular American politics and ideology. Ironically, the sections which prove difficult are those which attempt an orthodox interpretation on the current Vatican response to religious liberty. Given the intellectual power of the work and its potentially pivotal role in genuine conservative thought at the turn of the Millennium, one almost hesitates to criticize The American Myth, yet the difficulties of the book cannot be conveniently shuffled aside. Nevertheless, the murky ambiguities of Vatican II are far from the most interesting or momentous aspects of Craycraft's book.

Secularization in Practice

Craycraft has a keen sense of what priorities will most impress the reader. He starts with important court decisions and well-publicized controversies over issues of traditional religion and the doctrine of “tolerance." The author presents the fruits of religious liberty. Then, having made clear the overwhelming juridical and mainstream ethical bias against orthodox belief, he traces these fruits to the source which begat them.

Among the many court cases under consideration, the most striking is the Alabama school prayer case of Wallace v. Jaffre (1985). Herein, Justice John Paul Stevens made explicit the otherwise implicit opposition of the secularist state to revealed religion. It is worth citing at length, since Craycraft deems it of tremendous importance:

The individual's freedom to choose his own creed is the counterpart of his right to refrain from accept­ing the creed established by the majority. The Court has unambiguously concluded that the individual freedom of conscience protected by the First Amendment embraces the right to select any reli­gious faith or none at all. This conclusion derives support not only from the interest in respecting the individual's freedom of conscience, but also from the conviction that religious beliefs worthy of respect are the product of a free and voluntary choice of the faithful [author's emphasis].

Craycraft says this is the key to deciphering the myth of religious liberty. Only "voluntary" creeds are "worthy of belief." It is the underlying raison d'être of Americanist religious thinking.

Adapting the terminology of Michael Sandel, who has studied national judicial activity in some detail, Craycraft explains that according to the Americanist concept of religious pluralism, individual rights stand paramount to any religious system. Liberalism not only rejects, but cannot even begin to contemplate, the idea that a person receives his religious and moral convictions from some outside agency (which, of course, would include God's direct action by means of supernatural grace). Thus Liberalism speaks of people in a free society as "unencumbered selves." In order for a religious experience to be "authentic" it must completely free and subjective. By contrast, "encumbered" selves (orthodox believers) can have no proper standing under the law, both as originally conceived in the First Amendment and as enacted in everyday court decisions. That is because the Catholic, for example, takes his moral guidance from a transcendent authority-a source which the secularist state does not acknowledge.

If the state does grant concessions (which it certainly does), these are only exceptions to the rule. They are pragmatic means of avoiding tension and maintaining the peace, and nothing else. One example is the exceptional ruling in favor of an Amish farmer in Wisconsin who violated that state's law on mandatory schooling for children up to the age of fifteen (Wisconsin v. Yoder, 1972). The sensible deduction from this case, and others like it, is that the state can permit exemptions to an essentially non­threatening sect like the Amish which does not challenge the federal policy of religious neutralization. As the late Allan Bloom observed, the majority of Americans who practice a form of nominal Protestantism have essentially "ceased to be Christian." Bloom believes, with good reason, that "most Americans who think that they are Christians truly are something else, intensely religious but devout in the American Religion."

In truth, Americans practice a religion that has little resemblance to historical Christianity and instead embodies Gnosticism, radical personal autonomy, and salvation unmediated by the Church. The result is that the majority pose no significant threat to the doctrine of the "unencumbered self," while traditional religious groups, both Catholic and non-Catholic, are marginalized. Though Craycraft does not say so, this marginalization of native Catholicism is presently carried out through neomodernist clerics and lay leaders who have effectively turned the faith into a "voluntary creed," though the faith being what it is, tensions are not completely eradicated, nor will they ever be. Hence, Craycraft notes the furor which erupted over Cardinal O'Connor's 1990 declaration in favor of excommunicating public figures who supported abortion. The media, representing the broad political consensus, charged that the Church was meddling in politics by pressuring Catholic politicians to adopt a stance in line with its teaching. Hence O'Connor was placing the Church above the democratic process and thereby acting in an un-American manner. These charges are no different in essence from the violent anti-Catholic Know-Nothingism of the 19th century. It is further proof of Craycraft's thesis. Revealed doctrine cannot be reconciled to a liberal theory which, on the one hand, claims religious freedom yet sets the standards for which religions are deserving of that freedom. Absolute and universal tolerance does not exist.

The Meaning of Myth

Perhaps no greater service can be done today than to warn Catholics against adopting the cultural constructs and language of their opponents. Sadly, it is something they have done for many generations, and most especially since the 1960s. Such intellectual compromise is a surer means of defeat than the most violent assault by external enemies. Craycraft is merely echoing the admonition of Dr. John Rao's brilliant essay "Why Catholics Cannot Defend Themselves." According to both men, conservatives are doomed to defeat when they try to "out-liberal" the liberals. The real coup takes place when the secularist forces his enemy to embrace the superficial definition of a word such as "tolerance," which has different definitions according to the object towards which it is applied. Conservatives are forced to be lenient towards liberal error even as liberals suppress traditional beliefs. The former accept pluralism at face value, as if it were really possible to achieve a sublime mediocrity in which everyone practices different beliefs yet agrees on some set of "common values" which allows them to live in peace. Of course, the inherent contradictions of such a middle-of-the road position are obvious. One can no more take a stand on a vague secular ethical consensus than one can take a stand in mid air.

Despite the manifold evidence such as Craycraft provides, people will claim that daily hostility to organized religion on the part of judicial and legislative officials is actually a betrayal of the Founders' original intention. They say that "separation of Church and State" means "liberty for religion," not "from religion." It is, supposedly, the true genius of the pluralistic philosophy. Before proceeding to prove that active secularization was the foundational intent, Craycraft discusses the point which is really at the heart of the decades-long debate over Church-State relations: the pluralist myth which makes misperception on the part of conservatives possible.

A myth, says Craycraft, can be understood in two ways. First, as the ancient idea of mythos, which is a set of rites, symbols and institutions that sustain a particular community. These things may not be absolutely true in themselves, but do point to some greater underlying truth about a society. The other definition of myth is something false and deliberately deceptive. For Craycraft the American experiment in religious liberty is a myth in both senses.

It is a myth insofar as, despite its claims, the liberal idea of religious liberty as canalized in the First Amendment is a particular and exclusive understanding of religion, a particular story of what we Americans think - or ought to think - about religion and society. And it is a myth in the more popular sense that, insofar as it claims to protect religious freedom in its full and authentic sense, it is simply not true. Rather than protect authentic freedom of religious thought and practice...the American myth has given rise to a set of symbols, rites, and institutions which always subject religion to itself, and often positively hinder religious practice....The American attempt to overcome political religious myth-making has not succeeded because it cannot succeed.

Based on this conclusion, the author categorically denies each of the following propositions: 1) the founding of the United States was essentially religious, and guided by Christian principles; 2) that even if strongly secular, the state affords an equal degree of security to religious and non-religious people alike; 3) that religious liberty is an obtainable arrangement in any society; and 4) that religious believers are best off in a regime which propagates religious indifference, or that such a regime is itself merely an enlightened product of Christianity. On the contrary, the only definition of religious liberty in American political discourse is one that marginalizes, if not eradicates as a significant presence, orthodox religious belief. The American story is not interested in explicitly persecuting Christianity. Toleration is a much more effective means, especially if the liberal regime is successful in enlisting the support of Christians.

Founders' Intent

Craycraft tells us that the drive to invalidate orthodox belief ("encumbered self") and the gradual co-option and neutralization of religion are not new developments. The two men credited for creating and nurturing this doctrine in its American context are Thomas Jefferson and James Madison. Their mentor was the English rationalist philosopher John Locke.

Madison's role, though consequential, is not as well-known. As for Jefferson, it is astonishing how any conservative can contend that the man was "religious" (in the Christian understanding of the word). Devout Protestants of the day cursed the Unitarian statesman is an "atheist." Jefferson reciprocated by damning all forms of revealed religion as moribund myth-making. Of the Catholic Church in particular he spoke of meddling priests and "monkish ignorance." Suffice it to say, the lasting accomplishment of the Virginia Deist in American politics, and the one he most wished to be remembered for, was the Virginia Statute on Religious Liberty. This law was the prologue to the First Amendment.

James Madison's influence was at least as decisive is Jefferson's. He not only supported the secularist belief which underlies religious liberty but, more importantly, he used his mastery of the language to hat religious neutralization on a people which, Craycraft believes, still regarded themselves as essentially Christian. Madison advanced the secularist position in his famous Memorial and Remonstrance of 1785 (which opposed Patrick Henry's proposal of tax­-funded religious institutions) and in the columns of the influential Federalist Papers.

Craycraft notes Madison's deliberate irony on religious matters. In this he was following the lead of John Locke (whose notions of widespread "religious tolerance" included no clemency for the suffering English Catholics of his time). The making of the Americanist myth is fully at work in Madison's career. He knew that any proposition must not be too bluntly stated lest it rouse the latent opposition of the mass of icing and nominal Protestants. Therefore he carefully couched his terms so they would settle portably in his listeners' ears while still achieving be ubdmate aim. In the end, explains Craycraft, Madison's delicacy and patience won out over the short-lived opposition of his more religious-minded compatriots.

Some have stubbornly maintained that what Madison and others were aiming at was not a negation of Christianity, but simply "articles of peace" which would provide religious neutrality and avoid the sort of bloody conflicts which had so long ravaged Europe. Yet, as regards the Virginia politician's intent, there can be no doubt. If his well-known writings are not clear enough, we have access to his unpublished "Detached Memoranda" (made public in 1946). According to Craycraft, these "betray Madison's explicit hostility to institutional Christianity, and further reveal the theological and religious presuppositions behind his public documents." In his private writings he admits that he does not simply wish to "disestablish religion," but to actively curb and monitor it by taxing religious bodies so as to limit property-ownership to a bare minimum. By such means Liberalism would truly equalize religious opinions, physically as well as legally. For all of the fine distinctions between the American revolutionaries and the French, it was a scheme worthy of Robespierre.

Not Liberty But Neutralization

Madison's ideas dovetailed nicely with Jefferson's belief that the ideal moral framework is one in which there is a vast proliferation of inconsequential sects and independent churches, each competing with the next, in which there is no means whereby one body can attempt to impose orthodoxy upon another. Jefferson opined that the best way "to silence religious disputes is to take no notice of them." It is further validation of the argument that the First Amendment achieves the gentle but certain neutralization of serious religious activity. Attentive study of the Founders' actions and beliefs makes clear that "freedom of religion" did indeed mean "freedom from religion," since the predominant views of the 18th century held that the only moral system entitled to respect was one entirely "rational" and voluntary. Revealed religion does not make the mark.

As for last ditch attempts by conservative Catholics to claim some sort of secondary or indirect Christian influence through the role of men like Charles Carroll (Catholic) and Benjamin Rush (Protestant), they are examples of rather meager reasoning and irrelevancy. It may well be that Carroll sincerely viewed the First Amendment as "terms of peace," alleviating decades-long oppression of his co­religionists and permitting Catholicism to develop unhindered by political considerations. This, Craycraft points out, was the perception of many ordinary Americans, but certainly not those who shaped and implemented national policy. The actual course of American history, of which the current phase of obscene neo-paganism and overt anti-Christianity, is an inextricable part of the original plan to transform America into a deistic state.

Locke and His Doctrine of Toleration

It is important to say something about the originator of the "religious liberty" argument within the English-speaking world, if only because some would claim that there was an indirect Catholic influence on the Constitution via John Locke. The rather maddening and facile claim is that the liberal philosopher perpetuated the traditional natural law tradition, albeit under a non-Catholic and rationalistic guise. This is a clear misreading of Locke, since his idea of "natural law" is merely a reiteration of the Hobbesian "law of nature." This latter holds that man, in a "state of nature," is inherently alienated and individualistic. Civil society (and by extension, religious association) are artificial constructs developed to maintain peace and foster social utility. Locke's idea involves a categorical denial of the classical theory of morality and politics as handed down by Aristotle and St. Thomas Aquinas. So much for the crypto-Scholasticism of John Locke.

The clear basis for the Jefferson-Madison neutralization of Christianity resides in Locke's Letter Concerning Religious Toleration (1685). Cutting through the baroque idiom of the period, Craycraft offers a summary:

...Locke understood that orthodox Christianity (especially Roman Catholicism) is a natural enemy of the liberal regime. But since it was not possible to eliminate the political effects of such religion by force, Locke set out to do it by reason-by reducing "authentic" religion to a set of opinions whose adherents need not (indeed, must not) consider to be exclusively true. The exclusive truth that members of this regime must hold is that no religion possesses exclusive truth, or, perhaps, any truth at all. Any person or church which rejects this "truth" is a menace to the regime, and cannot reasonably expect unqualified toleration.

That is why Locke's public opposition to freedom of worship for Catholics in 1667 is not a contradiction of, but totally in keeling with, the liberal dogma of religious liberty. Because "papists" were intolerant (they practiced an esclusive creed) they could not be tolerated. They advanced a belief, contrary to liberal-Whig position, of “encumbered selves” who would have an ethical commitment prior to the state.

Noting the impossibility of unqualified tolerance in any society, Craycraft goes on to assert that Liberalism and Catholicism are actually alike in one key respect: both make claims to absolute truth. Unfortunately, many believers today feel uncomfortable with such contentions, partly out of ignorance and partly out of indifference. It is nicer to maintain that the two creeds can affect a modus vivendi, even if one condemns the increasingly “elitist" and “intolerant" stance of politically correct secularism. One likes to ignore or deny that the Church itself has always been "elitist" and "intolerant." Such terms, of course, stick in one's craw. That is because liberals have provided stilted definitions to serve their own agenda-a version of double-think whereby "anti­elitism" equals totalitarian control, and "free speech" equals social and economic censorship of undesirable views. Just to give added proof of the real intentions of liberal thought, Craycraft cites two recent exponents of Lockean "tolerance": Francis Fukiyama (The End of History and the Last Man, 1992) and Stephen Carter (The Culture of Disbelief, 1993). Both men envision a humanist republic in which "religion" plays an active role, but only so long as it is subsumed under the monistic order in which traditional beliefs, particularly Orthodox Roman Catholicism, are eliminated (Fukiyama says so openly, while Carter broadly hints at it in his condemnations of Pat Buchanan).

The Murray Dilemma

For all the concentrated force of Craycraft's study, its impact is somewhat lessened by a protracted deflection into the realm of neo-modernist confusion sown by John Courtney Murray. To his credit, Craycraft's approval of Murray is far from unqualified. For example, he criticizes the liberal priest's reading of the First Amendment as "articles of peace." It is not, says Craycraft, that Murray believed the Founders intended it to act as such, but the cleric felt that Catholics could nevertheless appropriate the language to their own ends and make use of religious freedom as if it did mean exactly that. According to The American Myth, such an optimistic theory must be held dubious at best. Unaccountably, Craycraft maintains that Murray's reasoning was essentially orthodox, even though the brief remainder of the priest's career (he died in 1967) reveals an increasing radicalization of his teaching which ended in proposing dialogue with Marxists and asserting that civil society, not the Church, was ultimate arbiter of ethical norms in the contemporary world.

It is true that prior to the Council, Fr. Murray advanced orthodox arguments in favor of the Church's preliminary claim to religious liberty ("freedom for the Church") and the obligation of individuals to respond to its call to conservation and salvation. But that merely clouds the issue. He makes assertions that, if not in open contradiction to, nevertheless tend towards a liberal humanist rendering of freedom of conscience and freedom of religion. It is the kernel of the modernist error-a theory containing both truth and error, and thus advancing error in a more subtle and unimpeded manner than would blatant heresy. To say that Murray was "conservative" relative to the liberation theologians of the 1970s is meaningless.

As noted above, Craycraft tells us that the First Amendment cannot be treated as a fundamental dictate with reference only to itself. It must be judged by an unchanging and objective standard as established by true religion. Unfortunately, Craycraft appears guilty of the very mindset he condemns when he adopts a rationale towards Murray's writing and the Council as if these things were primary sources of authority, carrying with them doctrinal status. On the contrary, one would have preferred that he had drawn the logical comparison between the deliberate irony of Dignitatis Humanae and the writings of Madison, in which radical ends are advanced in seemingly moderate and rather vague terminology.

Opportunism Rebounds

The crux of the Murrayite thesis (as contained in We Hold These Truths) can be summed up not so much as a formal rejection of the Church as repository of truth, but as a pragmatic or utilitarian compromise in the face of the reality of the pluralist society. Religious freedom "is not a per se good for Murray; it is an exigent one."

It would have made Craycraft's job far easier, and his analysis less tangential, had he simply placed Murray within the greater context of the Americanist error. Other questions, such as prudential implementation of Church policy, non-coercion (in matters of religious conversion), and natural law considerations are extremely interesting, and Craycraft does a good job handling them. Nevertheless, they are secondary to the main point of the magisterial view on Church-State relations.

Prior to Vatican II, the proper role of these relations had been explicitly enunciated in the ex cathedra statements of Gregory XVI (Mirari Vos), followed by Pius IX (Quanta Cura and the Syllabus of Errors). These pronouncements, quite unlike the tortuous language of the Council, were entirely consistent with themselves and with each other. They commanded without exception that the state has the duty to recognize and protect true religion. Further, no society can say that man has an inherent right to be indifferent to the Church's claims. But the problem in this country was not one of theory but implementation. So, rather than implement it, the theory was ignored.

The American hierarchy, which had made concessions to the First Amendment at the outset, committed itself to a "neutralist" position. In other words, they advanced Murray's expedient of pragmatism long before Murray. Compromise was a matter of convenience. It sought to put off, if not completely obviate, the unavoidable conflict between pluralism and the Catholic Faith. By the time Fr. Murray deliberated upon the matter in the 1950s, there was an underlying tension which had never been resolved and had never gone away.

Murray was honest enough to see that it could not be suppressed indefinitely and demanded a clear settlement. The old tactic of sublime apathy could not endure. The logical answer was that American thought had to be brought in line with the Magisterium. Yet Murray ingenuously sought a "third option," neither ignoring nor conforming to Catholic doctrine: he went about restating the Magisterium in a manner that appeared to justify Americanism and religious liberty. Only in this way can we begin to understand what went on, first in Murray's head, and then in the minds of the leading modernists at the Council.

On a superficial level both the Vatican and Murray said they acknowledged the legitimacy of the confessional state. Yet whether advancing the confessional state or the indifferentist one, the criterion of value offered was historical conditions, not a moral absolute. In other words, if a Catholic state already exists, that is fine, but if a non-Catholic state exists, that is also acceptable. No longer would the Vatican encourage every nation to become a Catholic state. It is, of course, merely a type of relativism which says, as Murray did indeed say, that while certain principles may be true in principle they cannot be realized in fact. Look where Murray's "pragmatism" has led us.

Unfortunately, our experience with liberal "dumbing down" inclines even the best of us to accept a false dichotomy between pragmatism and idealism, as if the former were realistic and the latter were pie-­in-the-sky. But as Chesterton quipped, "to say that a man is an idealist is simply to say that he is a man." All so-called practical approaches ultimately serve some ideal, even if that ideal is purely shallow and materialistic. The fitting conclusion, therefore, is that Murray's pragmatism does serve some principal. But it is a principal other than that of the Church, which is to "Go into the whole world and preach the gospel to every creature" (Mark 16:15). Murrayism is the handmaid of pluralism, not evangelization.

Relevancy Made Irrelevant

The almost instantaneous fall-out from the Vatican's outward abandonment of the magisterial teaching on the duties of state to religion hardly needs elaboration. Under the aegis of Dignitatis Humanae, the majority of bishops have handed the initiative to the prevailing liberal secular order and washed their hands of Catholic social teaching. It truly is a case of the fad for "relevancy" and rendering Catholicism completely irrelevant in the eyes of the world.

It is interesting that Craycraft's acceptance of Dignitatis Humanae is rather diffident. There is an unacknowledged disharmony between an integral understanding of religious liberty, which he so fearlessly articulates, and the "official" contemporary stance of the Church. The upshot is a pessimistic notion of Church-State relations that verges on a form of quietism, in which the Church must abandon its political involvement and concern itself solely with influencing society through spiritual means. Craycraft therefore makes the pat assertion that the alternative-official recognition of our religion by the state, starting with the supposedly ill-fated recognition of Christianity by Constantine in 313 A.D. must entail widespread corruption and diminution of the Church's primary role of spreading the faith. Such a view seems born more of reactive cynicism than sober historical consideration.

Even if the perfect Church-State relationship is never to be obtained, at least the effort to do so achieved a very high standard in centuries past. After all, the Spanish Catholic monarchy of the 16th century set about colonizing the New World with the conversion of souls as its stated primary intention. Whatever baser motives might have been in the minds of some Conquistadors, the fact is that millions of indigenous peoples were being baptized just at the very moment when much of northern Europe was apostatizing (and, by the way, overthrowing the social and political authority of Catholicism). Today, in compliance with the new pragmatist dictate, which accepts the pluralist state as the norm, those areas won to the Church at such great cost are falling away completely.

Final Assessment

The answers to the Conciliar dilemma and its unique non-dogmatic status have been ably dealt with by writers like Michael Davies and Romano Amerio (a Council peritus) and need not be detailed here. Nevertheless, one feels that Mr. Craycraft could have spared himself a great deal of grief if, instead of relying on John Courtney Murray as an authority on American religious liberty, he had turned to that unsung hero of anti-modernism, Msgr. Joseph Fenton.

Fr. Fenton was a determined opponent of the Murrayite view, who engaged in a running debate with the liberals in the years leading up to the Council. In a last ditch attempt to forestall the Americanist triumph, Fr. Fenton insisted that Church teaching bears not the slightest resemblance to the explanation in We Hold These Truths [by Murray].

It is not a matter of Catholic politic or of Catholic tactic, but a matter of Christian doctrine that, in itself and objectively, the state or civil society is obligated to give public and corporate worship to God, to pay to God the debt of acknowledgement due to Him because of His supreme excellence and because of our complete dependence upon Him. Under certain circumstances the payment of this debt may be impossible, but in any event it is definitely not a good or desirable thing to have any state withhold from God the payment of the debt of religion which is due to God.

The flaws noted in this review by no means negate the power of Craycraft's groundbreaking work. It is the most honest assessment of the Church-State issue to be published, outside of traditional circles, since the articles of Msgr. Fenton. The mere fact that it has seen the light of day establishes an important and precedent-setting step. Such a step, once made, cannot easily be retracted.

Despite its unfortunate ambiguity on the question of Murray and the Council, The American Myth inclines more to the traditional viewpoint than the prevailing neo-modernist one, while the chapters discussing American political and cultural concerns are irreproachable. One is inclined to agree with a colleague of Mr. Craycraft, who says that the upshot of his analysis must necessarily be "a return to the old pre-Conciliar view."


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Matthew Anger has written for traditional Catholic journals on history, politics, literature and popular culture. He was an assistant editor for the Puri­tans' Progress series, published by Angelus Press. Mr. Anger currently resides in Richmond, Virginia with his wife and four children.



SOURCES

Craycraft, Kenneth R. Jr., The American Myth of Religious Freedom. Dallas: Spence Publishing Company, 1999.

D'Elia, Donald J., The Spirits of 76: A Catholic Inquiry. Christen­dom Publications, 1983.

Fenton, Msgr. Joseph, "Doctrine and Tactic in Catholic Pro­nouncements on Church and State," American Eclesiastical Review, October 1961.

Murray, John Courtney, "Religious Freedom," Freedom and Man. New York: P. J. Kennedy and Sons, 1965.

Murray, John Courtney, We Hold These Truths: Catholic Reflections on the American Proposition. New York: Sheed and Ward, 1960.

Rao, Dr. John C., Americanism and the Collapse of the Church in the United States and "Why Catholics Cannot Defend Themselves." William Marra, 1995.

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Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Was Aquinas A Whig?

by Kenneth R. Craycraft, Jr.


Michael Novak has recently been making the improbable claim that liberalism and Catholicism are not only compatible, but in many important respects essentially the same. To illustrate this, he is fond of asserting that St. Thomas Aquinas is the first liberal.1 Novak takes his cue from Friedrich Hayek,2 who approvingly cites Lord Acton's assertion that St. Thomas (in a long quotation which Acton attributes to Thomas) put forward "the earliest exposition of the Whig theory of revolution."3 Thus, Novak calls St. Thomas a proto-liberal, and calls for a return of the "Catholic Whig."4


Two problems arise in this procedure. First, while language similar to some of that which Acton attributes to Thomas may be found at various places in Aquinas, the "quote" is at best an interpolation, at worst a fabrication. Second, Novak has a great deal of theological, philosophical and historical revisionism to do in order to say that Aquinas would even understand the language of liberalism, much less hold the ideas which Novak attributes to him.

Acton puts the following in quotation marks, and credits "this language" to "the most celebrated of all the Guelphic writers," St. Thomas Aquinas:

A king who is unfaithful to his duty forfeits his claim to obedience. It is not rebellion to depose him, for he is himself a rebel whom the nation has a right to put down. But it is better to abridge his power, that he may be unable to abuse it. For this purpose, the whole nation ought to have a share in governing itself; the Constitution ought to combine a limited and elective monarchy, with an aristocracy of merit, and such an admixture of democracy as shall admit all classes to office, by popular election. No government has a right to levy taxes beyond the limit determined by the people. All political authority is derived from popular suffrage, and all laws must be made by the people or their representatives. There is no security for us as long as we depend on the will of another man.5


Nowhere in the Aquinas can such a passage be found, though some similar sentences and phrases do appear at various places.6 Acton's intended meaning of the passage, however, is foreign to Aquinas' thought.

The first three sentences of Acton's passage echo Aquinas' words in . In book one, chapter six, St. Thomas says that the best rule is the rule of one man: a king. But since this is also easily abused, rule by a king ought to be arranged such that the danger of tyranny is mitigated as much as possible. Thomas says, "Once the king is established, the government of the kingdom must be so arranged that opportunity to tyrannize be removed. At the same time his power should be so tempered that he cannot easily fall into tyranny."7

And if, despite the safeguards, the king becomes a tyrant, it is not unjust to depose him. Aquinas explains:

If to provide itself with a king belong to the right of any multitude, it is not unjust that the king set up by that multitude be destroyed or his power restricted, if he tyrannically abuse the royal power. It must not be thought that such a multitude is acting unfaithfully in deposing the tyrant; . . . because he himself has deserved that the covenant with his subjects should not be kept, since, in ruling the multitude, he did not act faithfully as the office of a king demands.


Though Acton does faithfully convey part of Aquinas' thought, he ignores the very "un-Whigish" premise of the passage, as well as an important qualification to the right to depose the tyrant. First, Aquinas, unlike Acton or any other liberal,9 advocates the rule of one man as "the best" and "to be preferred." Aquinas would not remove the king in order to establish liberal democracy, but rather in order to establish another (just) king.

Second, the tyrant should not necessarily be deposed. "He should be tolerated even in his tyranny on account of the greater evil to be avoided."10 And even if the tyrant can be overthrown, "from this fact itself very grave dissensions among the people frequently ensue: the multitude may be broken up by factions either during their revolt against the tyrant, or, concerning the organization of the government, after the tyrant has been overthrown."11 The disorder of a fractured political community is a greater evil than some kinds of tyranny. In many conceivable cases, "danger to the people from the loss of their king would be more imminent than relief through the removal of the tyrant."12

But for the Whig Acton, no political good is higher than individual freedom. "Liberty is not a means to a higher political end," he asserts. Liberty "is itself the highest political end. It is not for the sake of a good public administration that it is required, but for security in the pursuit" of individual preference.13 For Acton liberal democracy, not monarchy, is the best "regime." Still less could one ever argue that tyranny ought to be endured under some circumstances.

For Aquinas, though, liberty is not the highest good, political or otherwise,14 and democracy is not the best regime. Though giving carefully qualified grounds for deposing the tyrant, Aquinas affirms two very un-Whigish political doctrines: monarchy as superior to democracy,15 and order as precedent to liberty. "The more efficacious . . . a government is in keeping the unity of peace, the more useful it will be," explains St. Thomas. "For we call that more useful which leads the better to the end. Now it is manifest that what is itself one can more efficaciously bring about unity than several. . . . Therefore the rule of one man is more useful than the rule of many."16

Other parts of Acton's alleged quote which faintly echo St. Thomas are found in the treatise on law in the . First, Aquinas says that "all should take some share in the government: for this form of constitution ensures peace among the people,"17 corresponding to Acton's "the whole nation ought to have a share in governing itself." Similarly, Aquinas says that the best regime is one in which "all are eligible to govern," and in which "the rules are chosen by all." Partial democracy is preferred since, "in so far as the rulers can be chosen from the people, . . . the people have the right to choose their rulers."18 This corresponds roughly to Acton's statement that Aquinas advocates "an admixture of democracy as shall admit all classes to office, by popular election."

Acton is also correct to note that Aquinas advocates a mixed regime:

The best form of government is in a state or kingdom, wherein one is given the power to preside over all; while under him are others having governing powers: and yet a government of this kind is shared by all, both because all are eligible to govern, and because the rules are chosen by all. For this is the best form of polity, being partly kingdom, since there is one at the head of all; partly aristocracy, in so far as a number of persons are set in authority; partly democracy, i.e., government by the people."19


Elsewhere, after describing what is meant by monarchy, aristocracy and democracy, Thomas says, "Finally, there is a form of government made up of all these, and which is the best."20

Aquinas is not clear, however, that the monarch is "elective" or even "limited" in the way that Acton seems to imply. For Thomas, the monarch is kept from becoming a tyrant by wise safeguards against his power: "the rules are chosen by all."21 But these are constitutional rules concerning the parameters of the king's authority, not about how he assumes office. (And, of course, once in power, the king remains for life or until he is overthrown for abdicating his proper authority for the power of the tyrant.) The example Aquinas gives as an illustration of his point is one in which the king could not be chosen from among any class, or elected by popular suffrage. The strong, life-time reign of the prophet Moses and his successors is Aquinas' model: "Moses and his successors governed the people in such a way that each of them ruled over all; so that there was a kind of kingdom."22 Only as a concession to their disobedience were the people given a king so-called from among the people. And even then the proper selection of the king was to be guided by God's own decision.23 Similarly, the kind of monarchy under which Aquinas lived, and which he endorsed in , is one in which the monarch is not appointed by suffrage at all. The people must to the choice of monarch, of course, else they will rebel. But their voice, if expressed at all, is expressed after the fact.

Moreover, the part of ancient Hebrew polity corresponding to aristocracy, the council of elders, was nominated by the people but approved and appointed by Moses. At Deuteronomy 1:13, 15 (to which Aquinas alludes) Moses explains how he had commanded the people to "‘choose wise and discerning and experienced men from your tribes, and I will appoint them as your heads'. . . . So I took the heads of your tribes . . . and appointed them heads over you." The authority of these elders derived from Moses' command, not from the natural authority of the Hebrew population. Natural rule is the rule of one;24 limited, partial suffrage is merely the means toward making that rule most effective. And constitutional limitations of the king's power are merely to guard against tyranny, the worst form of governance.25

Further, while the "language" of the last two sentences of Acton's quote do have approximate references in Aquinas, Acton's context and (seemingly) intended implication radically alter the meaning of the paraphrased Aquinas passages. First, in saying that "all political authority is derived from popular suffrage, and all laws must be made by the people or their representatives," Acton's point seems to be that the democratic part of the regime is the primary and highest part. But under such a mixed regime as Aquinas advocates, rulers are not necessarily appointed by suffrage, nor are all laws derived from the people or their elected representatives. In Aquinas' illustration of the best regime, political authority is derived from God and administered through his proxy, the king-like prophet Moses. Lesser rulers are approved and officially appointed by the monarch. And even after the era of the prophets, political authority is derived from God alone. Acton has changed Aquinas' mixed regime into a plebiscitary democracy.

Similarly, in the context of his remarks Acton seems to make the sentence, "There is no security for us as long as we depend on the will of another man," refer to the inherent evil of rule by a king.26 But in the passage of Aquinas that bears a faint resemblance to Acton's "quote," Thomas is saying nothing about kinds of regime, but rather is explaining relationships of individuals and the laws that govern them. Thomas says:

Now the relations of one man with another are twofold: some are effected under the guidance of those in authority: others are effected by the will of private individuals. And since whatever is subject to the power of an individual can be disposed of according to his will, hence it is that the decision of matters between one man and another, and the punishment of evildoers, depend on the direction of those in authority, to . On the other hand, the power of private persons is exercised over the things they possess: and consequently their dealings with one another, as regards such things, depend on their own will, for instance in buying, selling, giving and so forth. Now the [Mosaic] Law provided sufficiently in respect of each of these relations between one man and another. For it established judges. . . . It also directed the manner of pronouncing just judgments. . . . It also removed an occasion of pronouncing unjust judgment.27


Aquinas is not talking about the will of one ruler, but about the relationships of private individuals within the regime. If our security is based solely on the good will of our neighbors, than "there is no security." But if it is based on the rule of law, apart from whether the law is executed under the authority of a monarch or mixed regime, we are more secure.

Further, Acton's "quote" of Aquinas, that "no government has a right to levy taxes beyond the limit determined by the people," again finds no direct reference, but might be (generously considered) a paraphrase of objection 5 and its reply in the same question (I-II, qu. 105) from which the other parts of the paraphrase come. The objection is that the "Law made unfitting provision with regard to the institution of rulers," since, quoting I Kings 8:11, "‘This will be the right of the king, that shall reign over you: he will take your sons'," etc. Aquinas replies that this not by divine institution; "rather was it foretold that kings would that right, by framing unjust laws, and by degenerating into tyrants who preyed on their subjects." Hence Samuel warned the people, using the words of the objection. But Aquinas does not draw from this the conclusion that Acton attributes to him. Thomas concludes the reply, "It may happen, however, that even a good king, without being a tyrant, may take away the sons, and make them tribunes and centurions; and may take many things from his subjects in order to secure the common weal." The words Acton attributes to Thomas do not convey his opinions.28

This is further born out in Aquinas' discussion of obedience. Just as a single monarch is the regime suggested by nature, so to is it natural for some men to obey others. "Just as in virtue of the divinely established natural order the lower natural things need to be subject to the movement of the higher, so too in human affairs, in virtue of the order of natural and divine law, inferiors are bound to obey their superiors."29 More explicitly in conflict with the opinion that Acton attributes to him, Aquinas says that some men are indeed dependent upon the will of other men. Some men more naturally approach the supremely rational will of God, and therefore the will of these men may be a "second rule" to the man whose will is less perfectly conformed to God's (less rational), and who therefore obeys the man of stronger will.30 Moreover, while the most meritorious deed is the one done without prompting, to do the deed in obedience to the prompting of another is also praiseworthy.31 In short, Acton, sometimes dependence upon the will of another man the source of security.

Acton's quilted paraphrase, while containing some authentic echoes of Thomas' writing, clearly cannot be called a quote. Moreover, the meaning Acton tries to convey by the paragraph is clearly a departure from Thomas' own thought. While one may or may not conclude that Thomas' thought was a precursor to liberalism, he certainly advocates nothing like a liberal theory of revolution, nor can he be called a Whig. The essential point of Acton and the Whig theory he represents is that liberal democracy is not the least imperfect option among many, but that it is (or, rather, non-regime), in accord with man and his nature. The more refined is liberalism the more just the system; the less pure the less just. Thought of as a continuum, monarchy is the regime.

But for Aquinas, rule by one wise man is the best regime, both because it is consistent with nature and it works best. Since no man is sufficiently wise or above temptation toward evil, other types of regime are mixed with the best regime to arrive at the most workable. But the essential point is that the regime is closest to being most natural when it is headed by the single wise king. For Aquinas, the best regime is monarchy; democracy and aristocracy are mixed with monarchy only because of the possible failure of the king to remain just. Thus to call St. Thomas a Whig is to ascribe to him exactly the opposite opinion of the just regime.

An excellent illustration of the error of calling Aquinas a Whig is his view on "religious liberty," a phrase not coined until long after the 13th century, but the issue of which St. Thomas addresses in the treatise on unbelief in the of the . Presumably, since Novak and others wear the mantle of liberal (or Whig), and count Aquinas as a fellow-traveler, Thomas' ideas about the relation of the unbeliever to the state would be similar to those outlined above. But, like Aquinas' advocacy of a monarchy as the best pure regime (and a mixed regime the best practical one), his thoughts on religious liberty are rather "un-liberal."

By the very nature of religious belief, an unbeliever cannot be compelled to the faith. But this does not mean that we are merely indifferent to non-believers, or tolerant of all their actions. Rather, "they should be compelled, if it be possible to do so, so that they do not hinder the faith, by their blasphemies, or by their evil persuasion, or even by their open persecutions."32 While belief cannot be compelled, if practicable, non-believers ought to be compelled not to interfere with the religious practice and of the faithful.

But this limited tolerance does not apply to those who, after having professed the true faith, deviate from it in thought or practice. "Such should be submitted even to bodily compulsion, that they may fulfill what they have promised, and hold what they, at one time, received."33 Jews who have not professed faith in Christ "ought by no means to be compelled" to believe. But those who have confessed Christian faith, "ought to be compelled to keep it," as ought converts from heathenism.34 To believe is beyond the control of another, "whereas the faith, when one has received it, is a matter of obligation," and therefore a matter open to compulsion. "Heretics should be compelled to keep the faith."35

Moreover, though prudence may dictate that unbelievers have authority over believers, the rule is that unbelievers do not have authority over believers. Thomas considers two circumstances: where the unbeliever establishes authority over one who already believes; and where an unbeliever under the authority of an unbeliever becomes a believer. The former situation ought never to occur, "for subjects are easily influenced by their supporters to comply with their commands, unless the subjects are of great virtue." Hence, the rule is that the "Church altogether forbids unbelievers to acquire dominion over believers, or to have authority over them in any capacity."36

In the second situation (in which the unbelieving subject converts), pre-existing authority of the unbeliever ought to remain since it is an institution of legitimate human law, derived from reason. Nevertheless, if it is prudent to do so this rule may be done away with by the Church, "who has the authority of God," since by divine law unbelievers forfeit the right of rule over believers. If to do away with this pre-existing authority would "cause scandal" then the Church's authority ought not be exercised in that case.37

Thus, in principle, the unbeliever has no natural right of authority over the believer. However, since authority of unbeliever over unbeliever is natural, and since the divine law which governs the distinction between believer and unbeliever does not abrogate natural law,38 it does not violate natural law for the unbeliever to maintain authority over the convert.39 But the Church maintains the authority to do away with this natural authority if such action is prudent and does not cause scandal.40

In a similar way, St. Thomas argues that the religious rites of unbelievers ought to be tolerated, not as a right but as a point of political prudence. Unbelief and the rites of unbelievers are evil, and "although God is all-powerful and supremely good, nevertheless He allows certain evils to take place in the universe, which he might prevent" lest by preventing them greater evil occur, or some good be thwarted.41 The rites of Jews ought to have a special toleration, since they bear an imperfect witness to Christianity. But in principle the rites of non-Jewish unbelievers ought not to be tolerated, "except perchance in order to avoid an evil, e.g., the scandal or disturbance that might ensue, or some hindrance to the salvation of those who if they were unmolested might gradually be converted to the faith."42

So while Thomas has a notion of religious tolerance (one which in America might yield a great deal of freedom to heretics and non-believers), by no means is this a matter of "human right" or any other kind of right. The Church's position is that no man has a human right not to believe; and the political freedom not to believe is only for the sake of peace. While unbelief might be given wide allowance, this is a matter of concession or toleration, not right or principle. The positive teaching is that unbelief is not a right.43

From these observations, it seems impossible to say that Thomas Aquinas is a liberal. Of course it makes little historical sense to call Aquinas a liberal or non-liberal. As Pierre Manent has recently said:

Despite the authority of Lord Acton, it is not possible to describe Thomas Aquinas as a liberal. Saint Thomas was not a liberal. Nor was he anti-liberal, which goes without saying. He described, analyzed, and pronounced what appeared to him to be the objective order of things and the nature of man, founded on an objective hierarchy of what was good. Now, it was such a "dogmatic" presupposition that was rejected by those authors who developed the liberal viewpoint. The starting point of the idea and of the liberal undertaking was skepticism: the idea of what was good is an uncertain one and that is why men fight. As Hobbes and Locke took pleasure in proclaiming, there is no . . . . It is certain that, by radically criticizing the idea of good, the idea of conscience, and the idea of an objective morality, they undermined a vital presupposition of Christian doctrine.44


Manent rightly sees that liberalism is not the Church's complement, but her rival.

Kenneth R. Craycraft, Jr. is Assistant Professor of Theology at St. Mary's University in San Antonio, Texas.


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Endnotes

1 Novak calls Aquinas the "first Whig," and lists Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, Adam Smith, Lord Acton and Friedrich von Hayek as representatives of this political philosophy. See Novak, (Washington, DC: The AEI Press, 1990), pp. 107ff.; "The Return of the Catholic Whig," , No. 1 (March 1990): 38-42; "Thomas Aquinas, the First Whig," Crisis, October 1990: pp. 31-38; and (Lanham, MD: Madison Books, 1988), pp. 29-30; 80.

2 See Friedrich A. von Hayek, (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1960), p. 457, fn 4. Hayek says, "In some respects Lord Acton was not being altogether paradoxical when he described Thomas Aquinas as the first Whig." (Acton did not mean to be paradoxical at all, it seems, though the quote he attributes to Aquinas is elusive.)

3 Acton, "The History of Freedom in Christianity," in , ed. J. Rufus Fears (Indianapolis: Liberty Classics, 1985), p. 34. (Originally published as [Bridgnorth, U.K.]). It should be noted that, despite Novak's repetition of Hayek's error, Acton does not call Aquinas the "first Whig"; rather, Acton says that the quote he attributes to Aquinas "contains the earliest exposition of the Whig theory of revolution." As the discussion below argues, even this lesser claim is highly dubious.

4 In passing, John Courtney Murray, S.J. also calls Aquinas the first Whig in Murray says that the shorthand phrase, "‘A free people under a limited government' . . . is a phrase that would have satisfied the first Whig St. Thomas Aquinas" (p. 32). I know of no other place in which Murray makes such an allusion, and he gives no explanation here (other than the original publication of this chapter of WHTT in in 1954, reprinted in , Vol. 65, No. 258 (September 1990): 323-358.

5 Acton, .

6 Acton is sufficiently vague in his description that he is immune from the charge that the quote is a fabrication. He says (loc. cit.) that "this language . . . is taken from the works of St. Thomas Aquinas."

7 , p. 55. Citations are from St. Thomas Aquinas, , tr. Gerald B. Phelan (New York: Sheed & Ward, 1938).

8 , pp. 58-59.

9 Hobbes' advocacy of absolute monarchy is noted, but this is based upon a very different view of man and politics than Aquinas'.

10 , p. 55. While one might be tempted to say that the greater evil to be avoided is liberal democracy, Aquinas has chaotic anarchy in mind (if only because the locution "liberal democracy," has not yet been coined).

11 , p. 56. One might note the irony of Aquinas' assumption of the danger of factions compared with Madison's celebration of them in Federalist 10.

12 , p. 58.

13 Acton, "The History of Freedom in Antiquity," Acton, , Vol. I, p. 22.

14 See, for instance, , III:37.

15 This is not to say that Thomas denies the limited goodness of democracy and aristocracy. As I explain below, in the he advocates something like a mixed regime built around monarchy.

16 , p. 41. Aquinas (ibid., p. 42) continues to explain that rule by one is best since it is from nature. "Every natural governance is governance by one. . . . For every multitude is derived from unity. . . . This is also evident from experience; for provinces or cities which are not ruled by one person are torn with dissensions and are tossed about without peace. . . . But, on the contrary, provinces and cities which are ruled under one king enjoy peace, flourish in justice and delight in prosperity."

17 , I-II, q. 105, a. 1.

18 Ibid.

19 Ibid.

20 Ibid., q. 95, a. 4. Aquinas also lists oligarchy "government by a few rich and powerful men," as one form of government, corresponding to or law.

21 Ibid., q. 105, a. 1.

22 Ibid. Cf. Spinoza, A Theologico-Political Treatise, Ch. XVIII, pp. 237-38: "After the Hebrews had transferred their rights to God, they conferred the sovereign right of ruling on Moses, investing him with the sole power of instituting and abrogating laws in the name of God, of choosing priests, of judging, of teaching, of punishing—in fact, all the prerogatives of an absolute monarch."

23 It is significant that Thomas uses the period of the prophets to illustrate this point. God told the prophet Samuel that the people had rejected Him, not Samuel in their clamoring for a king. Before that, the regime God had chosen (and which Thomas uses to illustrate proper monarchical rule) was of the prophet as God's vicar. "Thus," explains St. Thomas, "by God's orders Josue was set at the head in place of Moses: and we read about each of the judges who succeeded Josue that God ‘raised . . . up a saviour' for the people, and that the ‘spirit of the Lord was' in them. " (Aquinas, , I-II, q. 105, a. 1, ad 1).

24 St. Thomas says (, I:2, pp. 41-42), "Whatever is in accord with nature is best: for in all things nature does what is best. Now, every natural governance is governance by one. . . . [I]n the whole universe there is One God, Maker and Ruler of all things. And this is reasonable. For every multitude is derived from unity. Wherefore, artificial things imitate natural things and since a work of art is better according as it attains a closer likeness to what is in nature, it necessarily follows that it is best, in the case of a human multitude, that it be ruled by one person."

25 "Just as the government of a king is best, the government of a tyrant is the worst" (, I:3, p. 43.).

26 It must be remembered that Acton says his "quote" of Aquinas is the "earliest exposition of the Whig theory of the "

27 , I-II, q. 105, a. 2.

28 Aquinas, in fact, is more worried about democratic tyranny than about monarchical tyranny. See , I:5.

29 , II-II, q. 104, a. 1.

30 Ibid., q. 104, a. 1, ad 2.

31 Ibid., q. 104, a. 1, ad 3.

32 Ibid., q. 10, a. 8.

33 Ibid.

34 Ibid., q. 10, a. 8, ad 2.

35 Ibid., q. 10, a. 8, ad 3.

36 Ibid., q. 10, a. 10. This is a simple statement of the chief concern of this essay. Theologians in America seem to have succumbed to this very problem: the commands of liberalism that the church comply with and advocate liberal "virtues" like tolerance, pluralism, liberty as an end, and democracy illustrate the force of Aquinas' argument.

37 Ibid.

38 "The Divine law does not do away with human law which is the law of natural reason." (, II-II, q. 10, a. 10.)

39 Aquinas uses a similar explanation in the question of whether the children of Jews and other unbelievers ought to be baptized against their parents' wills. While by divine law, all men should be believers, by natural justice a child belongs to his father, and therefore ought not be baptized against the father's will before the child reaches the age of reason. (, II-II, q. 10, a. 12.)

40 Aquinas uses the same argument in discussing whether the apostate believer maintains authority over the faithful believer. (, II-II, q. 12, a. 2.)

41 Ibid., q. 10, a. 11.

42 Ibid.

43 This sounds a bit like the later teaching (since condemned) that "error has no rights." But this formulation is not one that Thomas could have made, based as it is on a theory of subjective individual rights (rather than objective right), which came after Thomas, and which developed first into human rights and then political or civil rights. Thomas' teaching might be summarized as "error is not right," which is not different from the rather uncontroversial statement "wrong is not right." The modern project has been to do away with this idea of objective transcendent right, for one of claims of subjective rights. Thus "error" cannot be denied rights because there is no such thing as error.

44 Pierre Manent, "Michael Novak on Liberalism," in , ed. Joseph Klaits & Michael H. Haltzel (Washington, DC: The Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 1991), p. 209.

This article was taken from the Fall 1994 issue of "Faith & Reason". Subscriptions available from Christendom Press, 2101 Shenandoah Shores Road, Ft. Royal, VA 22630, 703-636-2900, Fax 703-636-1655. Published quarterly at $20.00 per year.

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Saturday, January 20, 2007

"Tolerating" Christianity Into Irrelevance

by Kenneth R. Craycraft Jr.



In A.D. 313, the Emperor Constantine instituted a new, revolutionary tactical policy regarding the problem of Christianity in the Roman Empire: He would try to eliminate its corrosive, subversive presence by instituting the new idea of "religious freedom." He would "tolerate" Christianity into irrelevance, and enlist its support for doing so. This was the conversion of Christianity to "Christendom," and it solved a centuries-old problem. Some 1,500 years later, Christendom rededicated itself to authentic Constantinian faith when, in 1791, America's Bill of Rights was added to its fledgling Constitution. Like the original version, this new Constantinianism managed to convince Christians that their interests were the same as the interests of the state; that they had been merged in such a way that Christians need not have any fundamentally presumptive suspicion toward the state. And like the original version, this meant of which it emerges. In this case, freedom of religion was for the purpose of enlisting Christians to sanction the ends of the Emperor. And the witness of the Church against the violence of worldly power all but disappeared. Religion was now "free, " but only as defined by the regime, and on the terms the regime established for it. The cost of that freedom was that Christianity became a tool of the Empire, for the Empire to achieve its ends. The critical distance necessary for the church to stand in judgment over the Emperor collapsed. Constantine could do as he willed, secure in the knowledge that the subversive witness of Christianity had been tolerated away.

Now compare the words of Constantine, as quoted above, with these: "Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity, Religion and morality are indispensable supports.... Reason & experience both forbid us to expect that National morality can prevail in exclusion of the religious principle. 'Tis substantially true, that virtue or morality is a necessary spring of popular govemment. The rule indeed extends with more or less force to every species of Free Government." Here is another example of a political leader recognizing and advocating religion as a tool of the regime. Not the truthfulness of one or any religion, but its usefulness, is why we want it to be "free." And, of course, that usefulness is for the aims and goals of power and empire. The dispositive implication is very dear: Religion which does not advance the good of the regime - including the regime of religious liberty which privatizes religion - is not legitimate religion. Religion has a purpose, yes: to support and further the goals of the state. But as a tool of the state, religion must be crafted and forged according to the needs of the state.

The words above are from George Washington, the Father of Our Country, in his Farewell Address. For Washington as for Constantine, "religious freedom" is part of a larger political story which imbues it with meaning and from which it cannot be extricated. Religious freedom is not the freedom of the church to name and maintain its own mission. Rather religious freedom is a "myth," invented for the purpose of telling and sustaining the story of American liberal democracy. There is no such thing as "religious freedom." There are only theories of religious freedom, advanced and protected by the regime in power, for its purposes and goals.

In one sense, this is deeply disturbing to the religious person; his religion is reduced to a tool of the regime, and thus loses the integrity of its own mission, which should include standing in judgment over the regime it has now been enlisted to support. But in another sense it is no big deal that there is no such thing as religious freedom. It is a myth, and wishing it were otherwise will not make it so. Religious freedom is but one aspect of the central audacious presumption of modem liberalism: that it has found a set of objective neutral principles, by which objective, universal judgments can be made. Thus, religious freedom is a universal good, according to liberalism, every bit as helpful to the atheist as to the priest. Religious freedom is, according to the larger liberal myth, the institution of neutral procedures, not substantive goods. But, of course, it is no such thing. "Religious freedom" is particular to the goods of the regime of which it is an invention. And as such, there is no such thing as religious freedom.

The first tenet of the liberal myth of religious freedom is the shift from an idea of the freedom of the church to the freedom of the individual. Consistent with its overall program of the atomization of human life, liberalism first tells us that authentic religious liberty is not seated in the right of a church to do as it must according to its doctrines and traditions, but rather in the right of the person to do as his conscience dictates. Where the church, acting freely, interferes with the free act of the individual conscience, the church has actually violated religious freedom, according to the liberal myth. Not only has the state no concern over the salvation of any man's soul; in the liberal myth, neither does the church. Any church which has the audacity to presume to define how its members ought to believe or act violates the American myth of religious liberty. This is most especially true when a church insists that its members act contrary to acceptable political or legal opinion. The American myth insists that private opinions - especially religious ones - are permitted public expression only within the boundaries that the myth has set. Not to obey these rulesis to risk public censure.

We see this censure, for instance, when a Catholic bishop dares to give moral instruction to Catholic politicians and expects them to obey this instruction in all spheres of their lives, public and private. A famous example occurred in 1990, when the Cardinal Archbishop of New York, John O'Connor, wrote the following in the archdiocesan newspaper, Catholic New York: "Where Catholics are perceived not only as treating church teaching on abortion with contempt, but helping to multiply abortions by advocating legislation supporting abortion or by making public funds available for abortion, bishops may decide for the common good [that) such Catholics must be warned that they are at risk of excommunication. If such actions persist, bishops may consider excommunication the only option." As a statement of church teaching, the Cardinal's words are actually notable for their circumspection and caution. He is merely voicing the rather noncontroversial point (by the church's self-understanding) that advocating doctrines contrary to the church's teaching puts one at risk of excommunication. It has long been a staple of church teaching that deliberate doctrinal deviation - the subject of the Cardinal's statement - is a far more serious matter than moral failure. Such deliberate deviation has always been a condition for being excluded from communion with the church.

But, while simply a statement of elemental church teaching, O'Connor's essay created a public and political firestorm because it violated the Ameri can myth of religious liberty. The New York Times ominously editorialized that, by suggesting that Catholic politicians ought to obey Catholic teach ing, the Cardinal is "tearing at the truce of tolerance that permits America's pluralist democracy to work." In an earlier editorial, the Times opined: "To force religious discipline on public officials risks destroy ing the fragile accommodations, that Americans of all faiths and no faith have built with the bricks of the Constitution and the mortar of tolerance."

In other words, the Catholic Church will be tolerated only insofar as it makes no demands on the consciences of its members, especially when they might exercise that conscience in the legislative chamber. ("Stop leaning on Catholic public officials now working to heal, not divide, the rest of society," orders The New York Times.) The reason is that such demands are deemed to be at odds, not simply with particular policy positions, but with the very institution of American religious liberty. The Times intimates that Catholic bishops flirt with violating the U.S. Constitution in such pronouncements as Cardinal O'Connor's. This was given clearer expression by Burt Neuborne, a law professor at New York University, as cited in the Washington Post. Cardinal O'Connor, said Mr. Neuborne, has done "more damage to religious tolerance in this society than he realizes. When you accept public office, you're not a Catholic, you're not a Jew. You're an American."

Perhaps the most hysterical response came from David Boldt of the Philadelphia Inquirer: "There's room to wonder whether the bishops fully understand the risk they run.... Their efforts reflect a lack of understanding as to just how delicate the balance between church and state is in regard to the Catholic church in America. The Roman Catholic church, it needs to be remembered, is quite literally an un-American institution. It is not democratic. The church's views ... are sharply at odds with those that inform the laws of American secular society. And its principal policies are established by the Vatican in Rome."

It goes without saying that there is a dark and vile intolerance behind these words. But while the particular expression is hostile and vitriolic, the opinion is an orthodox one in terms of the American myth of religious liberty. Boldt is correct about three things. First, America is a secular political culture which grudgingly tolerates religion only within particular boundaries, the legitimacy of which boundaries is immune from religious evaluation or judgment. Second, the Catholic Church is indeed an undemocratic institution. As such, its cardinal dogmas are not open to debate. (Not insignificantly, this is a feature which Catholicism shares with the American myth, democratic as it may claim to be.) Catholic dogma is not decided by plebiscite; and Catholic discipline is hierarchical and authoritative. Thus, third, as far as the Constitutional side of the "truce" goes, the Catholic Church (in principle, at any rate) is an un-American institution, This is not to say that it is anti-American, but rather that its self-understanding and structure are significantly different from America's that the state could proceed to protect its pursuit of domination without having to worry about the judgment of those who should have known better.

Up to A.D. 313 in the history of Christianity, the standing policy had been one of persecution. This nettlesome, fanatical Jewish sect was seen as a threat to the stability of the Empire, and therefore had to be eliminated. To be sure, the level and methods of persecution ebbed and flowed. But persecution did not work. In the words of Tertullian, "the blood of the martyrs was the seed of the church." Despite, or perhaps because of, the persecution, Christianity flourished in the Empire. So after more than 250 years of expensive, tedious persecution, Constantine tried a new tack. It was hard enough to hold an Empire together without the divisive presence of these petulant Christians. But rather than try to eliminate Christians, Constantine would try to strike a bargain with them that would effectively do the same. Rather than kill them, he would try to domesticate them. He would induce them to abandon their insubordinate witness against him, by joining their interests with his own. Constantine realized that he would never get Christians to bow to him under threat of death; he knew his history well. But maybe he could accomplish the same end by tolerating them. Perhaps they would bow to him - serve his interests, aims, and goals, while subordinating their own subversive witness to his needs - if he granted them religious freedom.

He did, and it worked. The best witness of this process is not the famous Edict of Milan, important as that was. Rather the new, successful policy is exemplified by a lesser-known document, also written by Constantine in 313, and directed to Anulinus, the prefect of Carthage, granting the clergy exemption from Imperial service: "It is my wish ... that those ... who are usually called clerics be completely exempt from public duties, that they be not drawn away from the service due to the Divinity ... but may rather fulfill the service of their own law without any hindrance. For it seems that, when they render the greatest homage to the Divinity, then the greatest benefits befall the commonweal."

Now what could possibly be wrong with allowing priests to be exempt from military, police, or jury service so that they could mind the altar and parish? Surely, this was a good thing. Well, no. Before the Edict of Milan, it never would have occurred to any Christian to work for the betterment of the Empire. Now it is assumed that all will, but that the clergy will be exempt so that they can concentrate on their ministry.

But what are they now ministering? Constantine enlisted the loyalty of Christians, not out of personal piety or religious faith (he probably never became a Christian himself, despite the prayers of his mother, St. Helen), but rather out of a tactical need to subvert their witness against the violence of his regime. Now that he was "tolerant" of them, Christians, Constantine hoped, would give theological sanction (not to mention manpower) to his plan to unify the Empire against his sometime partner, the treacherous Licinius. Blood was expensive; he needed peace at home to wage war abroad. So tolerating Christians was much more effective all around than killing them. Thus, the priest bowed to the Emperor, and Christianity has never been the same.

This is because, after the Edict of Milan, the church was no longer free.

Of course, in one sense, as now in America, the church did become "free" in Rome. Now Christians could worship in public. In some cases their property was restored, and they themselves began to appropriate pagan churches and basilicas for their own liturgy. But the cost was very high, and the corruption that followed was deep and broad. For the church was no longer free in the sense that it was able to name its mission, and to delimit the power of the state. This was its consideration in the new contract. Now the mission of the church was dictated by the needs of the state, and the church's authority was subordinated to the Emperor's. Of course, there were times when the Emperor bowed to the priest. And there were times when the church was a more powerful institution than the state. But what was its mission even in those times? It was to sanction power and empire, rather than to witness to the Kingdom of God.

The "freedom of the church" was no longer defined by the church. Now it was defined by the state, and thus it was no longer freedom at all. This is because "freedom of religion," like every political value, is determined by the context out self-understanding and structure. The Catholic Church is an institution which challenges (or ought to challenge) the particular American prejudice that religious opinions may not have expression in political life if those opinions seem to undermine America's myth of religious liberty.

Now one might reply that these are merely the opinions of law professors and op-ed writers, not the expression of law. This is not entirely true, but even to the extent that it is, it does not entirely mitigate the problem. No one will deny the evolutionary process of making laws in light of the Constitution, or of reading the Constitution in an expanded or modified way according to new circumstances, or of making laws that simply are not addressed by the Constitution, though they may be repugnant to certain segments of the population. The opinions of the Times's editors, Mr. Boldt, and Prof. Neuborne all make reference to the church's violating the spirit of the Constitution. In a country where persuasion is the essence of political and legal change, and where the power of the prevailing myths is jealously guarded, one cannot assume that such opinions will not have legal force in the future.

Consider the Supreme Court case Romer v. Evans, for instance, in which a law barring special. consideration of sexual orientation in discrimination complaints was overturned, in effect making homosexuals a protected class on a par with African-Americans or women. Justice Anthony Kennedy (a Catholic) wrote that the law "seems inexplicable by anything but animus toward the class that it affects; it lacks a rational relationship to legitimate state interests." As Justice Antonin Scalia's dissent forcefully argues, Kennedy (writing for the Court) ascribes irrationality and hatred to those who hold to a moral principle which is at the heart of evangelical and Catholic sexual moral behavior. In Romer such moral opinion is excluded from the realm of legal rationality. And, of course, the position Kennedy derides is often, indeed nearly always, motivated by religious consideration. Here, such religious consideration is ruled out of court (literally!) as irrational.

Ironically, the logic of limiting the freedom of the church can easily be extended to the freedom of the individuals that the First Amendment ostensibly aims to protect. If the church may not insist that its members who are legislators oppose, say, abortion-rights legislation on religious grounds, then individuals who do oppose such legislation based upon church teaching may potentially be excluded. Consider, for example, the reaction of New York Congressman George J. Hochbrueckner to O'Connor's article: "If you follow this to its logical conclusion, you could well end up with no Catholic representatives in government. If you follow the teachings of the church, you get beaten up because you're a pawn of the pope. It's an untenable situation to put someone in." Thus, in the name of protecting individual religious liberty, individual religious liberty is abridged. It becomes fairly clear that the end at issue is not the expansion of religious liberty, but the protection of the state from religious influence.

And-this, I submit, is the real gravamen of the First Amendment religion clauses: not to protect the freedom of either the church or religious individuals, but to protect the state from influence by the church or religious individuals. So long as neither the church nor individual religious believers presume to judge the legitimacy of the regime or particular laws within the regime on explicitly religious grounds, both may enjoy tolerance; religious liberty is merely a means to the end of protecting the state. But when either church or individual presses the boundaries of the "truce of tolerance," the First Amendment's protection of the state from religious opinion will demand that the* religious opinion or activity be abrogated.

Thus orthodox Christianity, as an example, is in double jeopardy. First, it violates the spirit of the myth of religious freedom by claiming that it may discipline the consciences of its individual members. The church insists that religious freedom is freedom of the church. Second, the church insists that its faithful and obedient members must be allowed full participation in the political process even if that participation leads them to cast votes, formed by church teaching, that either affect non-Christians or undermine the state's necessary myths and rites, or both. The church violates both the end of the First Amendment and the means to achieving this end.

THE FOUR MYTHS

Four myths - here meaning things that just are not true - about the liberal myth need to be dispelled.

The first, usually propagated by religious believers, is that the American Founding is essentially religious, and that it grants the highest possible respect and liberty to religious belief, especially to orthodox Christianity; indeed that it must be seen as favoring religion over irreligion. While it cannot be denied that the populace at the time of the Founding was deeply religious, that is not the same as saying that the political and legal institutions erected at the Founding are themselves a product of religious belief (or even consistent with it).

The second myth understands the strongly secular basis of the Founding and celebrates it, but mistakenly thinks that it affords the orthodox religious person the same quality of freedom as the liberal religious or secular person. That is, those who hold the first myth argue that the Founding specifically intended to afford religious believers a strong, broad, and enduring basis for religious freedom, and that encroachment upon that is tantamount to an abandonment of the principle of religious liberty. Those who hold the second myth argue (correctly, I contend) that this view of the Founding is erroneous - that the Founding is indeed secular with secular intentions. But they are wrong to assume that, therefore, orthodox religious believers have the same political freedom and legal standing as nonbelievers or even those believers who are committed more fundamentally to religious indifference.

The third myth is that religious liberty is possible in any modem political regime. The first and overwhelming priority of any regime, including this one, is jealously to protect its principles, rituals, and institutions. One of those principles is a commitment to religious indifference.

By "religious indifference," I mean an attitude of adherence to one set of religious doctrines, but without any concomitant idea that this excludes the "truth" of competing and contradictory religious doctrines. While one might believe that religion has some value to human life, it really makes little difference what that religion is, just so long as that central notion is maintained. Religious belief which would presume to exclude the truth (defined as usefulness to the individual consistent with irrelevance to political life) of other religious belief is an exotic intruder into a realm of indifference. This is exemplified by Thomas Jefferson's quip that it neither picks his pockets nor breaks his leg how many gods his neighbor believes in. Religious opinion is not relevant to questions of politics and policy. Religious opinion that presumes to be so is, by definition, excluded from rational standing.

The fourth myth that needs to be dispelled is that religious believers are best off in a regime like this one that is so successful in propagating its myth of religious indifference; or worse, that such a regime is a product of Christianity. For Christians to assume that we have the "right" to enjoy the same liberty as everyone else is a prejudice borrowed from the alien liberal myth. And if the church assumes this prejudice it also assumes the philosophical and political story that informs it. Thus, it will find a need to give theological sanction to the very myth which has designs on marginalizing orthodox religious belief in America.

In other words, I do not believe that Christians have an interest in defending and furthering the idea of religious liberty as a political good. This is because the only regnant definition of religious liberty in American political discourse is one that has designs on marginalizing, if not eradicating as a significant presence, orthodox religious belief. The American story is not interested in persecuting Christianity to death. Toleration is a much more effective means, especially if the liberal regime is successful in enlisting Christians to give it aid and comfort.

American liberalism wants to diffuse and delegitimize Christianity as defined in any interesting way. The distinctly American brand of Romantic, Gnostic, and Pelagian Christianity does not endure against the liberal idea, but rather is a product of it. The condition of American Protestantism (and increasingly, Catholicism) is an indication of the success of the liberal myth. But even those Christian thinkers who take very seriously the claims of their faith are often unwitting participants in its undermining, when they assume that America is friendly toward them and, therefore, must be given theological sanction. Christians have no stake in the liberal argument for "religious liberty," because it is part of a larger political theory which is intent on ridding the regime of the insubordinate witness of orthodox faith.

But neither is there any other argument for religious liberty, if by that is meant the liberal myth of absolute political and legal neutrality, and thus of equivalent freedom for everyone. The choice between liberalism and religious orthodoxy is not a choice between reason and dogma; rather, it is a choice between competing dogmas. Or one could say that it is a choice between competing tradition-laden rationalities. In both liberalism and orthodox religious faith, the terms and conditions must be accepted as "reasonable" by one's interlocutor; and what counts as reasonable is precisely the same as what counts as a legitimate reason. And what counts as legitimate reasons are those assertions that are consistent with the discourse of the community by which one is formed. Christians have no stake in liberal religious liberty, because they have no stake in the tradition that makes it "rational."

The Catholic idea of religious freedom is neither interested in, nor capable of, securing the kind of undifferentiated religious liberty that liberalism (falsely) claims to have secured, because the Catholic principle recognizes that such an idea of freedom in a pluralistic political society is neither a possible nor even an ideal good to be pursued. Like liberalism, Catholicism is concerned with establishing freedom for itself, on its own terms; unlike liberalism, the Catholic idea attempts to ground derivative political-religious liberty for non-adherents in its own theology. But it makes no claim that this derivative liberty is not necessarily relativized and mitigated by the church's own precedent freedom, as granted by God. It does not claim to have a neutral principle. But this Catholic insistence that its own freedom is precedent does not, per se, distinguish it from liberalism. Liberalism, too, secures the highest level of religious liberty for its own adherents, while tolerating non-adherents within carefully constructed boundaries. The Catholic idea is simply more honest about the impossibility of securing, in principle, absolutely equivalent religious freedom for all people.

Christians have no interest in finding a political principle which facilitates disbelief in Christ; their interest is rather to induce people to believe by witnessing to the resurrection of the Christ who, Christians believe, relativizes all political theories, and who commands that people bind themselves to none - indeed that we bind ourselves to Jesus Christ alone as King. In this context Stanley Hauerwas and Michael Baxter, C.S.C., have recently concluded that we might have to leave the problem of church and state "profoundly unresolved." If a resolution implies that the theologian's task is to give theological approval to a particular regime, I would say that it is the mandate of the theologian (and the religious believer more generally) to leave the question profoundly unresolved. The history of attempts to resolve the question is the history of religious believers sacrificing the integrity of their faith to the interests of the political regime.

This is not to say that the theological vocation exempts us from struggling mightily to find a coherent philosophicalpolitical theory by which members of the City of God can understand their place amid the Earthly City. indeed it is precisely liberalism's presumption to have put all questions to rest (on its own terms and by its own rules) which compels the Christian to be highly suspicious of this "solution," and to work all the more diligently to find another more adequate theory particular to his own faith.

I conclude that there is no such thing as religious freedom, because there is no such thing as a neutral political or philosophical principle by which such a freedom can be judged. The American myth of religious freedom is as false as it is powerful.


Kenneth R. Craycraft Jr., formerly a professor of theology at St. Mary's University in San Antonio, Texas, is a law student at Duke University. He lives with his wife and five children in Durham, North Carolina. This article is excerpted and adapted from Craycraft's book The American Myth of Religious Freedom, to be published this month by Spence Publishing Company.



© 1999 New Oxford Review. All Rights Reserved. April 1999, Volume LXVI, Number 4.

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