RELIGION, AUTHORITY, and the STATE from CONSTANTINE to the CONTEMPORARY WORLD Edited by Leo D

enical and Inter um reli Ec gio or us s f D ay ia w lo th g a u P e RELIGION, AUTHORITY, AND THE STATE FROM CONSTANTINE TO THE CONTEMPORARY WORLD Edited by Leo D. Lefebure Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue

Series Editors Gerard Mannion Dept of Theology Georgetown University Washington , District of Columbia, USA

Mark D . Chapman Ripon College, Cuddesdon Oxford , United Kingdom Building on the important work of the Ecclesiological Investigations International Research Network to promote ecumenical and inter-faith dialogue, the Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue series publishes scholarship on interreligious encounters and dialogue in relation to the past, present, and future. It gathers together a richly diverse array of voices in monographs and edited collections that speak to the challenges, aspirations, and elements of interreligious conversation. Through its publications, the series allows for the exploration of new ways, means, and methods of advancing the wider ecumenical cause with renewed energy for the twenty-fi rst century.

More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/14561 Leo D. Lefebure Editor Religion, Authority, and the State

From Constantine to the Contemporary World Editor Leo D. Lefebure Georgetown University Washington, USA

Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue ISBN 978-1-137-59989-6 ISBN 978-1-137-59990-2 (eBook) DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59990-2

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016943489

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2016 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifi cally the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfi lms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specifi c statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made.

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This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by Springer Nature The registered company is Nature America Inc. New York To my beloved niece and nephew, Ella York Lefebure and Arthur Leo Lefebure

FOREWORD

CONFERENCE OPENING SPEECH GIVEN BY HIS HOLINESS, ORTHODOX PATRIARCH OF SERBIA, IRINEJ Dear Brothers and Sisters, Most Esteemed Conference Participants, I am very happy to greet you, as members of many different Churches, other faiths and traditions from all around the world, and I am more than glad that you have decided to organize your conference here in Belgrade. This is a year in which we commemorate the great event of the proclamation of the Edict of Milan as well as the person who issued the edict—Constantine the Great who was born in the city of Naissus— which I myself served as a bishop for 32 years before becoming a patriarch. Both this conference itself as well as your organization—the Ecclesiological Investigations International Research Network— shares a lot in common with the edict of Milan. You are here trying to fulfi ll a task, which this edict continues to present to you and to all of us. Religion in general and the Church in particular obviously continue to play a signifi cant role in today’s world. Our mission is as important as it has ever been—indeed dare I say that this mission is even more needed by the world of today than ever. Our twenty-fi rst-century world is one that is deeply divided and fi lled with hostility between nations and peoples, with intolerance between different cultures, belief systems and political ideologies. In particular, recent decades have seen an increase in the intensity of the animosity between religion and the so-called secular world. This is why a conference that seeks to encourage positive dialogue across all such

vii viii FOREWORD divides, such as this one, is not a luxury but a necessity for the times in which we are living. So that task, that challenge for the Church and for Christianity in general, is one of seeking to help transcend and overcome such divisions. What makes this task extremely diffi cult is the fact that Christians themselves remain deeply divided. This is why we are frequently and justifi - ably criticized by non-Christians with the words: you should fi rst seek to overcome your own separations before trying to help others to solve their problems (“Physician, heal yourself,” Luke 4:23). And this is true—in order to be able to serve our divided world we Christians indeed need to attend to our own divisions fi rst and foremost. Of course we must remain realistic—the so-called full, organic unity of the churches is unlikely to be attained any time soon because we have been divided in so many ways across so many centuries now, but what we can and should do is to get to know each other all the better. This is a fi rst step, another challenge to which we are called. Out of such friendship and encounters, a new frame of mind may emerge that will eventually enable us to address more serious questions such as distinguishing between the realities about what we truly and already share in common us and what truly divides us. This is why such conferences and meetings such as this one are so necessary for all of us because they help promote what we have in common (and we must never lose sight of the fact that there is a great deal we share in common) and because they also refuse to ignore the things that set us apart but rather try to acknowledge the realities we live in and to discuss them in a constructive manner. We fi rst need to know what divides us in order to be able to build bridges, which will connect us. Each of you gathered here in Belgrade today, representatives of your differing faiths, differing Churches, of diverse universities and of diverse countries and traditions—each and every one of you has something unique and valuable to offer the dialogue that our world today so urgently needs. So it brings me great joy that you decided to organize this conference in our country because this will help communicate to the wider world how committed Serbia and its people are to playing their part in that global dialogue. You may help bring an understanding of our historic city and its deep cultural riches to that wider world as you encounter those traditions during your own stay here. Sadly, the nature of politics in our age has contributed to the fashion- ing of a very negative picture of our country for too long now. This has FOREWORD ix pained us just as it pains anyone to see their own family and home suffer. So I encourage you, in addition to the important scholarly discussions in which you will be engaged, to also immerse yourselves in our culture and history while here. I have learned that this is part of the method of the Ecclesiological Investigations Network for all of your international gatherings—that you actually seek to engage in dialogue and not just to engage in academic discourse about dialogue. That you seek to allow the delegates gathered at your events to immerse themselves in the culture, story and reality of the lands in which those encounters take place. So I encourage you to embrace the opportunity to learn about our home—visit our Churches, go to our many historical sites (Roman and Serbian alike)—immerse yourselves in the sites, stories, traditions that we are trying to preserve and renew. I wish your conference every success and I hope you will take away from your time here happy and fond memories of our people, of this city, and, if I may add, also of our Church once you go home. I pray that the Lord will bless your work here and will allow it to bear much fruit for the faith communities, the Churches and the lands in which you come from. The early Church said that love must be the force through which the world recognizes us as the followers of Christ. That injunction remains as true and necessary today. This love should not be restricted to our friends and our neighbors but it should rather be channeled outwards and shared with the entire world. + His Holiness (Gavrilović) Serbian Patriarch Irinej In Belgrade at the Opening of the Eighth Ecclesiological Investigations International Conference on “Religion, Authority and the State: From Constantine to the Secular and Beyond,” Wednesday, 19 June 2013

His Holiness Irinej Archbishop Of Pec, Metropolitan Of Belgrade-Karlovci And Serbian Patriarch

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank all the participants in the Ecclesiological Investigations International Research Network, especially those who attended the conference in Belgrade in June 2013, on which this volume is based. The delightful combination of intellectual stimulation, friendship, and concern for the world gives hope for the future. I also thank Gerard Mannion for his outstanding leadership in organizing the conference, as well as all the contributors and the team at Palgrave Macmillan for their cooperation in producing this volume.

CONTENTS

Part I International Perspectives 1

1 Specters of a New Ecumenism: In Search of a Church “Out of Joint” 3 Dale T. Irvin

2 Religion and the State: Contexts, Controversies, and Conjectures in Australia, Indonesia, and Egypt 33 Patricia Madigan

Part II Africa and Asia 53

3 A Postcolonial Theological Reading of the Philippines: Church-State Relation and a Familia Dei Response 55 Pascal D. Bazzell

4 Diagnosing the Politics of Christian-Muslim Confl icts in the West African Sub-Region: Going beyond the Western Paradigm 75 Chukwumamkpam Vincent Ifeme

xiii xiv CONTENTS

5 Islamic Extremism in West Africa: A Historical and Theological Analysis of the Crisis of Religious Brigandage in Islam 101 Ikenna Okafor

Part III The United States of America 121

6 The Reign of God and Constantine’s Disputed Legacy: Religious Freedom, Sacred Empire, and the American Experience 123 Leo D. Lefebure

7 The US Bishops’ Campaign for Religious Freedom During the 2012 Presidential Election Year: A Critical Analysis 145 Dennis M. Doyle

Part IV Europe 157

8 Confessional Belonging and National Identity: A Case Study of Serbia, Croatia, and Germany 159 Vladimir Latinovic

9 Sobornost’ , State Authority, and Christian Society in Slavophile Political Theology 179 Nathaniel Wood

10 Church and State in England: A Fragile Establishment 199 Mark D. Chapman

11 Religion and the Rising: Patrick Pearse and Easter 1916 215 Gerard Mannion

Index 247

CONTRIBUTORS

Pascal D. Bazzell , an OMF International member, is currently a Swiss National Science Postdoc Fellow and lecturer at the Humboldt-University of Berlin, Germany. He holds an MA in Missiology and Master of Divinity from Koinonia Theological Seminary, Philippines, and a PhD in Intercultural Studies from Fuller Theological Seminary, USA. Mark D. Chapman is Professor of the History of Modern Theology at Oxford University and Vice-Principal of Ripon College, Cuddesdon, Oxford, a Church of England seminary. He has published widely in the fi elds of modern church history and theology, ecclesiology, and Anglicanism. His most recent books are Theology and Society in Three Cities: Berlin, Oxford and Chicago, 1800–1914 (James Clarke, 2014), The Fantasy of Reunion: Anglicans, Catholics and Ecumenism, 1833–1882 (Oxford University Press, 2014), and Anglican Theology (T & T Clark, 2012). Dennis M. Doyle is Professor of Religious Studies at the University of Dayton where he has taught for 31 years. He specializes in Ecclesiology, Ecumenism, and Catholic Social Teaching. He earned his doctorate in Religious Studies from the Catholic University of America. His articles have appeared in Theological Studies, The Thomist, Horizons, Ecclesiology, America, Commonweal, and many other places. He is author of The Church Emerging from Vatican II and of Communion Ecclesiology: Vision and Versions. He is also co-editor of Ecclesiology and Exclusion: Being and Belonging in a Postmodern World . His most recent book is an introductory text on Christianity that will soon be published by Paulist Press. Chukwumamkpam Vincent Ifeme, a native of Umuchu, Nigeria, is a stable Professor extraordinarius at the Istituto Superiore di Scienze Religiose «Mater Gratiae» (Ascoli Piceno) of the Pontifi cal Lateran University, Rome. His doctoral dissertation in Systematic/Dogmatic Theology from the Pontifi cal Urban

xv xvi CONTRIBUTORS

University Rome is titled Jesus Christ the Reconciler in the Trinitarian Perspective: in the Theology of Karl Barth vis-à-vis Hans Urs von Balthasar (UUP, Roma 2007). Hence, his interest in theology borders around Trinitarian Theology and Christology, especially as the locus theologicus for ecumenical and inter-religious dialogue. Vincent is the Director of the offi ce for Ecumenism and Dialogue in the Diocese of San Benedetto del Tronto-Ripatransone-Montalto, Italy. Dale T. Irvin is President and Professor of World Christianity at New York Theological Seminary, in New York City. He is the author of several books, including History of the World Christian Movement , a three-volume project written with Scott W. Sunquist, and a number of articles and chapters in other books. His research and publications focus, among other things, on revitalizing ecumenical conversations and commitments among diverse communities around the world. Vladimir Latinovic (Serbia/Germany) graduated from the Faculty of Orthodox Theology at the University of Belgrade. He obtained his PhD at the University of Tübingen with the topic “Christology and Communion: Emergence of Homoousian Christology and Its Repercussions for the Reception of Eucharist.” Since 2011 he has been working as a research fellow at the Institute for Ecumenical and Interreligious Studies in Tübingen (founded by Hans Küng) and since 2014 as teaching fellow on the chair for History of Dogma. Currently he is working on a project “Non-doctrinal Reasons for Condemnation of Pelagius.” He serves as an executive board member of the Ecclesiological Investigations International Research Network. Leo D. Lefebure is the Matteo Ricci, S.J., Professor of Theology at Georgetown University and a Catholic priest of the Archdiocese of Chicago. He is the author of numerous works, including True and Holy: Christian Scripture and Other Religions, which received the 2015 award from the Catholic Press Association for the best academic book on scripture. He is the co-author with Peter Feldmeier of The Path of Wisdom: A Christian Commentary on the Dhammapada , which received the Frederick J. Streng 2011 Book of the Year Award from the Society for Buddhist-Christian Studies of North America. Patricia Madigan OP is an author and lecturer with a doctorate from the Department of Arabic and Islamic Studies at the University of Sydney. She is Executive Director of the Dominican Centre for Interfaith Ministry, Education and Research (http://www.cimer.org.au). Trish has been an Australian delegate at several Regional Interfaith Dialogues jointly sponsored by the Australian and Indonesian governments and has been involved in interfaith dialogue activities in Australia and the Asian region for over 15 years. CONTRIBUTORS xvii

Gerard Mannion holds the Joseph and Winifred Amaturo Chair in Catholic Studies at Georgetown University, where he is also a Senior Research Fellow of the Berkley Center for Religion, Peace and World Affairs. Educated at the Universities of Cambridge and Oxford, he also serves as Chair of the Ecclesiological Investigations International Research Network. An Honorary Fellow of the Australian Catholic University, he has held visiting professorships and fellowships at many universities. He has authored, co-authored, and edited some 18 books and numerous articles elsewhere in the fi elds of ecclesiology, ethics, ecumenism, and interfaith dialogue, as well as in other aspects of systematic theology and philosophy. He is an Irish citizen, passionate about social justice, rugby union, and music. Ikenna Okafor was born in Azigbo, Southeast of Nigeria, where he got his earlier education in Philosophy and Theology at an affi liate Institute of Urban University, Rome. He completed his postgraduate studies at the University of Vienna, Austria, with a dissertation in Basic Theological Research (i.e., Fundamental Theology). Since March 2013 he is Lektor (Adjunct Professor) in Intercultural Theology at the University of Vienna, Austria. His academic interest revolves around Religion, Theology, and Global Solidarity. Nathaniel Wood is a doctoral candidate in systematic theology at Fordham University and a graduate fellow of Fordham’s Orthodox Christian Studies Center. A theologian in the Orthodox tradition, he is primarily interested in the theology of divine-human communion, especially with respect to the doctrines of incarnation and deifi cation. His current dissertation research examines the implications of these doctrines for doing Orthodox political theology in a liberal democratic context and draws on Russian religious thought from the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, especially that of Vladimir Soloviev and Sergius Bulgakov.

INTROD UCTION

The granting of religious freedom to Christians in the western regions of the Roman Empire in 313 C.E. was by any measure one of the major milestones in the history of Christianity and European and Mediterranean societies. After centuries of chronic danger and insecurity and a period of especially intense persecution, Christians entered a new horizon when Constantine and his co-ruler Licinius openly authorized their faith. In a short time, Constantine as the victorious Roman Emperor began to construct churches and convene church synods. This development paved the way for a profoundly different relation between Christianity and the governing authority of the Roman Empire. Eusebius of Caesarea saw the banquet of Constantine with Christian bishops as a concrete realization of the kingdom of Christ. Few events evoke anniversary celebrations 1700 years later. Thus it is noteworthy that in 2013 conferences around the world commemorated the proclamation issued in 313: the so-called Edict of Milan, which granted religious freedom in the regions of the Roman Empire that the emperors Constantine and Licinius then controlled. Collective historical memory is often unreliable in the details: it has been quipped that the document in question was not an edict, was not issued in Milan, and was not even issued by Constantine! While historians continue to debate the details of what transpired, the endorsement of religious freedom by Constantine and his co-ruler was by any standard a landmark moment in history. Historical memory is also selective. While Licinius has largely been forgotten except by historians of antiquity, Constantine has long been remembered as one of the most consequential and controversial rulers in all of world history.

xix xx INTRODUCTION

For better and for worse, Constantine set precedents that would infl uence centuries: he affi rmed religious freedom, but he also restricted Jewish life. He protected the Christian church, but he also sought to direct its affairs, launching a long tradition of Christian imperial involvement in ecclesial concerns. Since Constantine was born in the city that the Romans called Naissus, now known as Nis in southeastern Serbia, it was appropriate that the Ecclesiological Investigations International Research Network convened religious and academic leaders from around the world in Belgrade in June 2013, to refl ect on the signifi cance of the 1700th anniversary of the Edict of Milan and the perennially challenging relationships of religion, authority, and the state. His Holiness, the Orthodox Patriarch of Serbia Irinej, graciously opened the conference of in Belgrade, and we are pleased and honored that he has allowed us to include his remarks in this volume. This volume presents essays developed from discussions at the Ecclesiological Investigations conference in Belgrade in 2013. These essays discuss religious freedom and relations between religions and governments in a variety of contexts around the world, some offering wide-ranging surveys and others focusing on a particular situation. The volume begins with international perspectives. One of the most important recent international developments is the wide-ranging transformation of Christian ecumenical activities. Dale T. Irvin describes the new ecumenism as a far-reaching phenomenon comparable in scale to the cross-border movements of globalization and exile. He notes that the ecumenical movement of the twentieth century remained within the horizon opened up by Constantine. In contrast, he fi nds that the new ecumenism of the early twenty-fi rst century does not remain within stable institutional boundaries and structures; instead, it is a fl uid movement of cross-border networks, appearing and disappearing and reappearing again. While this fl uidity may be disconcerting to many, Irvin trusts that it can be a source of renewal and hope. As societies around the world address the challenge of how to relate religious and state authorities, many look to a constitution to set the framework for the relationship between religions and the state; but in each case the language of the constitution is open to varying interpretations. Each society’s specifi c history of discourse shapes the concrete ways in which religion-state relations within it unfold. Patricia Madigan offers a comparative study of the relations between formal constitutions and actual practice in the very different settings of Australia, Indonesia, and Egypt. INTRODUCTION xxi

In each case the historical context decisively shapes the way the constitution is understood and implemented. Even though Milan is far distant from the Philippines, Pascal D. Bazzell notes the effects of the Edict of Milan upon conditions in the Philippines. Drawing upon the strategies of postcolonial theology to interpret the current situation, he listens especially to the voices on the margins of society, to examine the vision of the Church as familia Dei (“family of God”) in the Philippines. Juxtaposing biblical themes with contemporary Filipino reality, Bazzell argues that the ancient themes of solidarity, sharing, and belonging take on fresh importance in light of the contemporary challenges of injustice and exclusion. Bazzell describes various controversies in which Catholic bishops have participated or failed to participate; he outlines the dynamics of the current situation and offers proposals for how the Church can be a social force for the good by accepting the mission of the familia Dei . In West Africa, where religions play various roles in the current confl icts involving Muslims and Christians, it is often challenging to discern what the specifi c role of a religious tradition is in a given confl ict; in particular, there is a vigorous debate over how to interpret the relation of Islam to these confl icts. Ikenna Okafor and Chukwumamkpam Vincent Ifeme offer contrasting perspectives on the relationship of Islamic movements in West Africa to violence at the present time. Acknowledging the mul- tisided nature of religious extremism, Okafor calls attention to the theological dimension of the extremist movements who commit atrocities in the name of Islam. While noting that numerous Islamic authorities have condemned such violent actions as contrary to Islam, Okafor explores the religious self-understanding of militants who claim to be inspired by Islam. He stresses that military actions alone cannot resolve the confl icts between Muslims and Christians in Nigeria, and he calls for text-critical and historic-critical interpretations of the Qur’anic texts in order to reject the militant understandings. Chukwumamkpam Vincent Ifeme stresses the non-religious dimensions of confl icts between Muslims and Christians in the same region, citing factors such as “colonialism, tribalism, corruption, inhuman poverty, poor leadership, dictatorship, collapse of government services, paternalism and the failure of governments.” He proposes an indigenous diagnosis of the economic, political, social, and cultural aspects of the situation without pretending to have a resolution for the situation. Like Bazzell, Ifeme draws upon post-colonial theory to analyze the role of both external global xxii INTRODUCTION forces and internal political factors in shaping the confl ict. He argues that hostility between Muslims and Christians in Nigeria was shaped by the British colonial policies. Ifeme maintains, “Religion may therefore matter in the confl icts, but more at the margins, as a reinforcing element overlaying existing fault lines.” The analyses of Okafor and Ifeme highlight differing aspects of a complex and shifting situation; reading these essays in conjunction with each other calls our attention to need for a holistic awareness of a multifaceted context. The USA has long boasted of being a place of religious freedom, but there have often been confl icts over what this should mean in practice. The early English settlers of North America and the founders of the USA frequently viewed Constantine as an example to be avoided; however, as history unfolded, they may have been in some ways closer to his precedent than they would have cared to admit. My essay considers both similarities and differences between the ancient Christian Roman Empire, including Constantine’s and Lactantius’s historic affi rmation of religious freedom, and the experience of the USA. In both contexts there were bold affi rmations of the principle of religious freedom combined with failures to live this out in practice. Dennis M. Doyle focuses upon the dispute over religious freedom in relation to health care during the 2012 US presidential election campaign. Some US Catholic bishops vigorously opposed the Obama administration’s Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act on the grounds that it unfairly restricted religious freedom by forcing many entities to pay for contraceptive care. Doyle argues that the US bishops were indeed arguing for important principles but that their focus on contraception permitted other issues to overshadow their central concern about the limits of state regulation. The communities of Europe have known both bitter interreligious confl icts and efforts to shape national identity apart from confessional belonging. In our fi nal section, four authors discuss different aspects of European experience of church-state relations past and present. Comparing different contexts can offer new perspectives on both. One of the most painful European experiences of recent decades has been the confl ict in the former Yugoslavia. Vladimir Latinovic considers the relation between national and religious identity by comparing and contrasting the formation of national identity in Germany on the one hand and in Croatia and Serbia on the other. He also searches the history of Croatia and Serbia for INTRODUCTION xxiii clues as to how the bitter confl ict developed, and he concludes his chapter with some lessons for the present time. The fi gure of Constantine looms especially large over the history of Russia, where the czars long saw themselves as the heirs to Constantine and the Byzantine Christian Empire. Nathaniel Wood proposes a thoughtful comparison of the writings of Russian Slavophile authors in the nineteenth century with recent discussions of liberal democracy by William Cavanaugh, calling attention to similarities that might easily go unnoticed. Wood argues that Slavophile social writings should be recognized as proposing a theology of culture and a church-centered political theology that merit continued consideration today. He fi nds resources in the Russian thinkers for addressing the challenge of the church’s role in relation to the state today. Relations between church and state in England have witnessed a unique set of historical challenges. Mark D. Chapman examines the historical background of church-state issues in England today, noting the fragility of the establishment. Recent years have seen new challenges posed to the traditional Elizabethan settlement, particularly in the areas of the ordination of women bishops and in same-sex marriage. Chapman explores the complex relationships among the Crown, the Parliament, and the Church of England, noting the importance of the connection between popular sentiments. Finally, Gerard Mannion explores the intertwining of religious and nationalist issues in the Irish Easter Rebellion against British rule in 1916, which is being commemorated in numerous centenary events in 2016. Mannion notes how Patrick Pearse interpreted the suffering of Jesus in light of the Irish struggle against British rule and proposed a messianic nationalism inspired by the hope of resurrection. Mannion argues that Pearse’s bold leadership and inspiring oratory anticipated concerns of recent political and liberation theology. These chapters evoke many aspects of the legacy of Constantine and the issues posed by his deeds. Whether one praises Constantine’s accomplishments or laments his defi ciencies, he stands as a towering fi gure with whose legacy we are still wrestling.

Leo D. Lefebure Washington, DC, USA PART I

International Perspectives CHAPTER 1

Specters of a New Ecumenism: In Search of a Church “Out of Joint”

Dale T. Irvin

THE HAUNTINGS “A specter is haunting Europe—the specter of communism.” Thus reads the opening line of the Communist Manifesto that was published in 1848. “All the powers of old Europe have entered into a holy alliance to exorcise this specter” Marx and Engels continued. Pope and Tzar, conservatives and radicals—all have taken up the fi ght against communism, proving that the movement, which was still without the organizing structures of a party, had power. It was time for communists to organize a party and publish their views precisely in order to advance the power of the communist movement effectively, they argued; hence the publication of their Manifesto in 1848 and the eventual organization of the First International in 1864 in London. Those opening lines were revisited by Jacques Derrida in 1993 in his plenary address delivered over the course of two evenings at a conference titled “Whither Marxism? Global Crises in International Perspective” held at the University of California, Riverside. Taking his cue from Shakespeare’s “Hamlet,” Derrida opened the lecture with an analysis of

D. T. Irvin ( ) New York Theological Seminary, New York, NY, USA

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2016 3 L.D. Lefebure (ed.), Religion, Authority, and the State, DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59990-2_1 4 D.T. IRVIN the logic of haunting, or hauntology as he termed it. We live with ghosts, he said, which are beings of ungraspable visibility, or tangible intangibil- ity. 1 They are of the same order as the “non-sensuous sensuous” character of exchange-value that Marx wrote about in Das Capital . A specter is not an image or an icon, but something else, Derrida argued. It is event, both repetition and fi rst thing, or repetition and last thing, exemplifying the opposition of Hamlet’s “to be or not to be.” 2 We may seek to conjure them and we may seek to exorcise them, but we cannot in either case diminish them. We must in the end learn to live with specters, to talk with specters, to be with specters, says Derrida. “And this being-with specters would also be, not only but also, a politics of memory, of inheritance, and of generations.” 3 It was not the ghost of Marx so much as the ghosts of Marx—plural— that interested Derrida. There were in fact several specters or ghosts of Marx or Marxism, and not all of them were equally to be welcomed or embraced, said Derrida. One had to accept their plurality as given, even as one determined which one to talk about or with. The politics of memory, inheritance, and generations was not simply given. The living, or those who occupy the space between life and death, have a role to play here, he said. There are decisions to make, one might say. There is an ethical bent to their exercise. Describing his reason for turning to Hamlet and specters, Derrida wrote:

In proposing this title, Specters of Marx , I was initially thinking of all the forms of a certain haunting obsession that seems to me to organize the dominant infl uence on discourse today. At a time when a new world disorder is attempting to install its neo-capitalism and neo-liberalism, no disavowal has managed to rid itself of all of Marx’s ghosts. Hegemony still organizes the repression and thus the confi rmation of a haunting. Haunting belongs to the structure of every hegemony. 4

Hegemony organizes the repression and thus it organizes the confi rmation of the haunting, says Derrida. But this in turn suggests that the haunting is both a result and an expression of the failure of repression to be total. The haunting, in other words, has a counter-hegemonic bent. The pluralization of the haunting takes the counter-hegemonic bent even further down the road. There are other ghosts one needs to be in conversation with, or to talk about. That is in fact Derrida’s intention as he pronounces (one is tempted to say “conjures” or “invokes”) a new SPECTERS OF A NEW ECUMENISM: IN SEARCH OF A CHURCH “OUT OF JOINT” 5

International, which he discerns to be at hand. This new International links “affi nity, suffering, and hope,” he says. But it is not the typical linkage of dominant organizations and structures. Rather, it is a weakly organized linkage, more suited to shadows and specters than the typical organizing mechanisms of canons, rules, and laws.

It is an untimely link, without status, without title, and without name, barely public even if not clandestine, without contract, “out of joint,” without coordination, without party, without country, without national community (International before, across, and beyond any national determination), without co-citizenship, without common belonging to a class. The name of new International is given here to what calls to the friendship of an alliance without institution among those who, even if they no longer believe or never believed in the socialist-Marxist International, in the dictatorship of the proletariat, in the messiano-eschatological role of the universal union of the proletarians of all lands, continue to be inspired by at least one of the spirits of Marx or of Marxism (they now know that there is more than one ) and in order to ally themselves, in a new, concrete, and real way, even if this alliance no longer takes the form of a party or of a worker’s international, but rather of a kind of counter-conjuration, in the (theoretical and practical) critique of the state of international law, the concepts of State and nation, and so forth: in order to renew this critique, and especially to radicalize it. 5

The haunting in the end does not dismiss the old and replace it with a new. Attending to its pluralized presence is instead part of a larger strategy of fostering new alliances that radicalize and renew the old.

SPECTERS OF THE ECUMENICAL MOVEMENT A specter haunts the Ecumenical Movement of the twentieth century. It is not the specter of communism, Marxism, or a new International, although it shares with them much in terms of their political nature. It is a specter that is closely bound to the word “ecumenical,” a word that was saturated with meaning long before the twentieth century. Norman Goodall in his introduction to the Ecumenical Movement in 1961 noted that the word “does not trip lightly from English lips.” 6 It is better in Latin (oecumeni- cus ) or Greek (oikoumen ē ). Barbara Rossing, in her essay “(Re)claiming Oikoumenē ?” traces the history of the word for us from its initial Greek usage through its meaning in early Christian experience. 7 The term originally meant that portion of the 6 D.T. IRVIN earth in which human beings built dwelling places or households ( oikos ). Greek geographers had initially used it to name the portion of the earth that was inhabited by human beings, whether they were Greek-speaking or persons the Greeks considered barbarians. The term was taken over by the Romans but given much stronger political connotations. Roman emperors came to see themselves as the legitimate rulers of all the earth. Whether or not their actual power extended to such, they came to equate the oikoumenē with their empire. 8 The New Testament writers who use the term retain its political connotations, although there is considerable ambiguity in places regarding the relationship between the oikoumen ē and the Roman Empire. 9 Matthew remembers Jesus saying that this euaggelion or “good news” of the kingdom will be proclaimed en holē tē oikoumenē , in the whole of the oikoumen ē , as a witness pasin tois ethnesin , to all the nations (Matthew 24:14–15) did not accept the Roman imperial claim to have the authority to rule over all the nations. In Matthew’s book, it is the Risen Christ who makes that claim. The writer certainly knew there were nations or peoples not yet subjugated to Roman imperial law. His book opens with the witness of a representative group of them in the form of priests from the east, presumably from Persia, and thus from beyond the reach of Roman imperial law, magoi apo anatolōn who had come to worship the newborn Christ. A similar wider horizon seems to be in view in Luke 4:5, where diabolos takes Jesus up into a high mountain and shows him all the kingdoms of the oikoumenē in an instant of time. Luke’s wider horizons are also in view in the opening pages of Acts, even though by the end of the book they have narrowed back down to the horizons of the Roman Empire, and to Paul’s intentions as a Roman citizen (according to Luke) to appear before the emperor in Rome. Paul himself uses the term several times in his letters, but without necessarily reducing it to the orbis romanus . The book of Revelation expresses less hesitation to reduce the political extent of the oikoumenē to Rome on the other hand. Each of the three times that the term is used (Revelation 3:10, 12:9, and 16:14), it is referring critically to the Roman Empire. From the middle of the fi rst century Christianity was judged to be an illicit religion under Roman imperial law. Although persecution was spo- radic and local, imperial rulers beginning with Nero regarded followers of the religion to be punishable by death. At the same time, a considerable number of Christians in the Mediterranean world began to formulate their understanding of Christian teachings in ways that accommodated SPECTERS OF A NEW ECUMENISM: IN SEARCH OF A CHURCH “OUT OF JOINT” 7 the Roman imperial worldview. They did so in part to try to convince imperial rulers that Christians were not as much of a threat to the empire as they might seem to be, given that the Messiah whom they worshipped had been executed for political crimes against the Roman state. It was also a matter of Christians making their home in Greco-Roman society. Whatever was the reason, by the second century Christians were appro- priating the rhetoric of empire and making a case for their place within it. 10 The wider horizons of the ends of the earth were still in view, at least in places. One fi nds them in the works of Bardaisan toward the end of the second century, for instance, in his Book of the Laws of the Nations. Within the Roman Empire, however, numerous Christians were making their peace with imperial life. One sees it in the manner in which Paul of Samosata, for instance, modeled his throne along the lines of a regional imperial authority in the years he served as bishop of Antioch from 260 to 268. One sees it as well in the fact that the other bishops in the region eventually appealed to the emperor himself in Rome in trying to unseat Paul of Samosata. There are many other signs scattered throughout the history pointing to the manner in which Christians were making themselves at home intellectually and politically within the empire. It is critical at this point to see that Christianity through the fourth century even in the Roman Empire was a diverse affair. The majority of Christians belonged to churches that identifi ed themselves to be part of a dominant catholic party or wing. A second-century ideological opponent of the Christian movement, Celsus, called it “the great church” (Origen, Contra Celsus , 5.59) populated by “the great multitude of believers” (CC, 1.1). Those within this wing or party preferred to call themselves catholic by the end of the second century. They traced their identity back to Jesus through the succession of his 12 apostles, thus giving rise to the claim to be apostolic as well. But they were not the only ones who claimed to be followers of Jesus. There were others who did not belong to the catholic party, who belonged to churches and other communities, whose life and teachings later came to be suppressed politically and socially within the Roman world. 11 All of these various parties were to one degree or another fi nding ways in the second and third centuries to accommodate to Roman imperial life as they underwent the social and cultural processes of adjustment that we now call enculturation or contextualization. This is why it was so easy for the churches of the dominant catholic party in the Mediterranean world to embrace Constantine after 313. Constantine did not change Christianity. 8 D.T. IRVIN

Christianity in the Mediterranean in all of its diverse forms had already changed signifi cantly enough to make it possible to embrace and be embraced by the emperor. Even the Donatists in North Africa, who held on steadfastly to the anti-imperial rhetoric of martyrdom and persecution, were the fi rst to turn to Constantine to appeal their case after the election of Caecilian. In short, the majority party in the Mediterranean world embraced political establishment and the opportunity for their churches to become aligned with the Roman imperial state. Constantine was faced at the beginning of the fourth century with an empire that was fracturing. Earlier emperors had divided the empire administratively into four parts under separate rulers. Constantine suc- cessfully conquered his other three counterparts and united the empire again under one ruler—himself. He also faced a number of social and cultural challenges that threatened the overall unity of the Roman imperial world. This more than any other factor led him to embrace Christianity as a central part of his public policy. Whatever his own personal confessional embrace of Christian faith might or might not have been, without question he saw political expediency in the manner in which the catholic form of Christianity, which was still the religion of a minority of the citizens of the empire, was able to unify peoples across cultures and distances. Constantine embraced the Christian movement politically because he saw its ability to unify people across social, cultural, and geographical distances. Ironically, at the time he was legalizing the movement, a number of fresh controversies were breaking out within these same catholic communities that were threatening to undo the very unity of the movement that attracted him. The fi rst major controversy he had to address was that which divided Catholics and Donatist parties in North Africa. A second arose from a doctrinal dispute in Alexandria between Arius and Alexander that quickly spread to other parts of his empire. Barely a decade after legalizing Christianity under his rule in the Edict of Milan, Constantine faced the fact that the Catholic churches were being torn apart by questions of a theological nature. Although not yet baptized, in 325 Constantine summoned the catholic bishops of the empire to assemble in a council that was to be held in Nicaea. Sozomen in his History of the Church (I.17) says that the emperor “wrote to the most eminent men of the churches in every country,” presumably including countries not part of the Roman Empire. 12 Eusebius says that there was at least one Persian bishop present. 13 Constantine paid for their travel out of the imperial treasury and provided both lodging SPECTERS OF A NEW ECUMENISM: IN SEARCH OF A CHURCH “OUT OF JOINT” 9 and meeting space in his summer palace at Nicaea. He gave the opening address at the council and sat in on its sessions, listening to the debates of the bishops. Eusebius in Life of Constantine 3.6 appears to be the fi rst person to call the council at Nicaea “ecumenical” (súnodon oikoumenikēn). Others soon followed suit, and thereafter a general council claiming to represent the entire Catholic Church was said to be “ecumenical.” It is debatable how extensive the oikoumen ē in the sense of all cultures in which Christianity had spread was actually represented at Nicaea. For the most part, the council was composed of Greek-speaking bishops, most of them from the area of the empire that had until recently been under Licinius, the imperial rival that Constantine had only recently dispatched. In Eusebius’ hands, the term had much stronger political than geographical or cultural connotations. As Robert Grant notes, “Some of the earliest witnesses call the council ‘ecumenical,’ but the term means no more than ‘Roman imperial.’ ” 14 The key issue at this point to consider is the manner in which the imperial apparatus of rule came to dominate the organizational structures of the major part of the Christian movement under the watchful eye of a sponsor- ing emperor. The catholic party by the second century was structuring itself hierarchically under monarchial leaders called bishops, the episkop ē . Such a structure proved indeed to be reasonably effective in maintaining trans- regional networks and communication. Pelikan argues that the driving issue was maintaining unity in the midst of growing diversity that was a function of the Christian movement’s geographical (and thus cultural) expansion. 15 He makes the point in this regard that the major work of the Council of Nicaea did not in fact concern matters of doctrine and liturgy, but matters of social organization of the church. 16 Pelikan notes that prior to 325 as controversies arose within Catholic churches, bishops would gather in legislative councils that were modeled on the one described in Acts 15 when the original apostles gathered to consider the grounds on which Gentiles would be admitted into communion in the nascent movement.

But as the church became fully “catholic” in a geographical sense, the need arose for such a legislative body that could speak both for and to the universal church. That extension of the “apostolic council” to a position of universal authority created the concept of the “ecumenical council” with “ecumenical” here taking the double meaning of “for the general church as a whole” and “imperial in scope and authority.” 17 10 D.T. IRVIN

The second of these two meanings, I argue, came to be dominant in Christian usage. After 325 the oikoumenē for the majority of catholic Christians in the Mediterranean world was coextensive with the oikoumen ē of the Roman Empire, and especially with its political and legislative func- tions. 18 Already the sociological form of the ekklesia or “assembly” had changed drastically from the earliest house churches pictured in the pages of the New Testament, which, as Schillebeeckx argued, were more like free associations or collegia of believers and were not even necessarily under a bishop, to an organization now patterned after a political kingdom or state. 19 Alternative ecclesiastical formations continued to exist even after the year 300, most notably in the form of monastic movements that continued to press in various degrees against the accommodations to empire and power that were taking place within the dominant church, but also in scattered Gnostic communities that survived outside the territories of the Roman Empire at least as late as the sixth century, if not beyond. By the end of the fourth century, however, the Christian religion of the catholic party had for the most part become fully integrated into the apparatus of the Roman imperial state. The Edict of Thessalonica, issued by Theodosius in 380, made catholic Christianity the offi cial religion of the Roman Empire. The edict defi ned “catholic” as being in agreement with the teachings of the bishop of Rome, Damasus, and the bishop of Alexandria, Peter. Anyone who was not in agreement with their professed faith, even if they claimed to be followers of Christ but taught different doctrines, were defi ned as heretics and made subject to punishment by the state. Such punishment was extended by Theodosius to Jews and followers of traditional Roman religions as well. “Ecumenical” and “catholic” now both meant political conformity to a Roman imperial state. The imperial connotations of the term “ecumenical” were fi rmly in place by the end of the fourth century in the Roman world. After the empire divided into Greek- and Latin-speaking churches, these political connotations continued to inform both traditions. Willem A. Visser’t Hooft, the fi rst General Secretary of the World Council of Churches, argued that for the Greek Orthodox communion, the fall of Constantinople in 1453 effectively removed the “political overtones” of the word “ecumenical,” even if “… the full consequences of this change in signifi cance were des- tined to appear only at a much later date.” 20 Sultan Mehmed II’s conquest of Constantinople brought about an end to the Greek Church’s privileged political place within the empire, even if it did not end the church’s involvements in political life, which has over SPECTERS OF A NEW ECUMENISM: IN SEARCH OF A CHURCH “OUT OF JOINT” 11 the past fi ve centuries often proven to be tumultuous. As a result within Orthodox churches, the term “ecumenical” has generally come to be associated with the memory of the fi rst councils and the unity they appear to have provided to the ancient church. It also refers to the historic rank and dignity of the offi ce of the patriarch of Constantinople, an offi ce that continues to be under stress even as the current ecumenical patriarch redefi nes its meaning. 21 The term “ecumenical” lost much in the way of its coercive meaning in the Greek Orthodox Church in particular after 1453 and took on more mystical connotations. The unity that accompanied the ecumenical experience came to be seen as being more dependent on the inner working of the Holy Spirit in the life of the church than in the external exercise of political authority. Unity through love and obedience came to be closely associated with the formal unity of doctrine and practice, which remains in Orthodox theology grounded on the unity of the ancient ecumenical councils and adherence to the Nicene Creed. The Ecumenical Patriarch Joachim III began to broach the quest for unity in love among the Orthodox themselves in 1902 in an encyclical letter issued on the occasion of his elevation to the patriarchal throne for a second time. The patriarch called for a pan-Orthodox conference and hoped that even the Roman Catholic Church and Protestants might one day join. The Orthodox leader shared a heartfelt desire to be united to all who believe in Christ. He noted the doctrinal divisions that kept Protestants and Roman Catholics apart from the Orthodox, but he expressed a greater hope for working with Anglicans. 22 The 1902 encyclical proved to be an important initiative for unity among churches. An even more important effort came from the Holy Synod of the patriarchate nearly two decades later in the 1920 encyclical letter, “Unto the Churches of Christ Everywhere.” Germanos Strenopoulous, a scholar who had studied in Western Europe and was familiar with a number of Protestant and Anglican church leaders, was the primary author of the encyclical. 23 “Unto the Churches of Christ Everywhere” called upon Christian churches throughout the world to overcome the distrust and even enmity that had come to characterize their relationships. It noted in particular the need for Western missionaries to stop proselytizing among Orthodox communities in the East. Among the proposals set forth such as theological exchanges and joint studies, the encyclical called for the formation of a fellowship (koinonia ) of churches similar to the newly formed League of Nations. 24 12 D.T. IRVIN

The Roman Catholic Church continued to use the term “ecumenical” in the West to identify general councils at which only Latin bishops were present after the ninth century. By the thirteenth century, Rome was adding a fi fth mark, “Roman,” to the four that were named in the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed, “one, holy, catholic, and apostolic.” 25 Several Orthodox Church leaders were present at the Council of Ferrara and Florence from 1431 to 1445, which sought unsuccessfully to overcome the schism between Latin and Greek traditions by imposing the fi lioque on the Orthodox churches and bringing the Eastern Orthodox under Roman administrative rule. It was the exception, however, when it came to Orthodox presence in what the Roman church considered to be ecumenical councils. The Roman Catholic Church was understood by its leadership at least to be both the guardian and dispenser of Roman imperial political authority. As Pope Innocent III wrote in 1201 in defending his authority to intervene in the imperial election on behalf of Otto of Brunswick,

It is the business of the pope to look after the interests of the Roman empire, since the empire derives its origin and its fi nal authority from the papacy; its origin, because it was originally transferred from Greece by and for the sake of the papacy, the popes making the transfer in order that the church might be better protected; its fi nal authority, because the emperor is raised to his position by the pope who blesses him, crowns him and invests him with the empire. 26

Rome understood itself not just to be the dispenser of political authority. It understood itself to be legitimately engaged in the exercise of it. Rome was itself a state, as the papal bull Unam sanctam by Boniface VIII in 1302 made clear. 27 Christ allowed Peter to take up two swords according to Luke 22:38. According to Boniface, one represented temporal authority and the other spiritual authority. The bishop of Rome thus was empowered by Christ to exercise temporal authority. Within the papal estates in central Italy the pope rightly exercised the authority of a prince or king. Elsewhere in Christendom the authority of the pope was spiritual. Temporal authority is under spiritual authority in Christendom, however, argued Boniface. Kings and princes exercise temporal authority, but it is subject to the spiritual authority of priests and bishops, and ultimately is intended to serve them. Just as spiritual or heavenly things surpass temporal or earthly things in dignity, so temporal authority is subject to spiritual SPECTERS OF A NEW ECUMENISM: IN SEARCH OF A CHURCH “OUT OF JOINT” 13 authority in Christendom, the bishop of Rome argued. Rome had its own courts and legislative procedures for administering its spiritual authority. They were greatly expanded during the period of the Crusades under the offi ce of the Inquisition. Church courts could not execute those found guilty of spiritual crimes such as heresy, but they would turn those they found guilty over to secular rulers who were expected to carry out such punishment, including execution—and most did. “Ecumenical” did not mean “all the inhabited earth”; it meant that part of the world under the spiritual rule or dispensation of the pope. Roman Catholic meaning began to shift in the 1960s with Vatican II. In Humanae salutis , the apostolic constitution by which Pope John XXIII convoked Vatican II in 1961, the pope used the term in the traditional way when he wrote that shortly after ascending to the offi ce of supreme pontiff he had come to believe that

the time was now ripe to offer the Catholic Church and the world the gift of a new ecumenical Council, as an addition to and a continuation of the series of twenty great Councils which throughout the centuries have been a real heavenly providence for the increase of grace and of Christian progress. 28

This is not the way the term is used within the documents of Vatican II themselves, however. Rather than designating a gathering of bishops where the fullness of the Catholic Church was represented, the term now indicated a movement toward the reintegration of separated Christian communities. This new meaning appears especially in the Vatican II document Unitatis Redintegratio (“Decree on Ecumenism”). “The restoration of unity among all Christians is one of the principal concerns of the Second Vatican Council,” declares the opening sentence of the decree. 29 Paragraph 4 of goes on to defi ne the shift in terminology a bit more clearly: “The term ‘Ecumenical Movement’ indicates the initiatives and activities planned and undertaken, according to the various needs of the Church and as opportunities offer, to promote Christian unity.” 30 The road to unity is dialogue with separated Orthodox and Protestant Christians, not legislative actions and not punishment at the hands of the inquisition. The decree does not abandon the belief that the Roman Catholic Church is the one true universal church on earth. It looks forward, however, to the day when these separated Christian communions, both Orthodox and Protestant, will be integrated back peacefully into the Roman communion, for these separated brothers and sisters 14 D.T. IRVIN

are not blessed with that unity which Jesus Christ wished to bestow on all those who through Him were born again into one body, and with Him quickened to newness of life—that unity which the Holy Scriptures and the ancient Tradition of the Church proclaim. For it is only through Christ’s Catholic Church, which is “the all-embracing means of salvation,” that they can benefi t fully from the means of salvation. 31

The new meaning of the word “ecumenical” that the “Decree on Ecumenism” announced was essentially a shift from the older understanding of the term that had identifi ed councils representing what participants at least took to be those churches that were part of the “the all-embracing means of salvation,” to efforts to bring about the visible unity of all churches on the earth. Methods of achieving such visible unity might differ, dependent upon how one read the Christian past and the supposed unity that churches of the world might or might not once have had. But generally the contrast that Karl Rahner drew between ecumenical theology and controversial theology signaled “ecumenical” as naming a more positive effort to achieve unity through healing. 32 A slightly different meaning of the word “ecumenical” fi rst appeared in Protestant theological discourse in the last decades of the nineteenth century. It was this Protestant terminology that came to set the framework for what Vatican II referred to as “the Ecumenical Movement” in the document just quoted above. Protestant usage of the term was actually grounded in Protestant missionary efforts. Indeed, it has long been a truism of the twentieth-century Ecumenical Movement that it was born out of the nineteenth- century missionary movement. The World Ecumenical Conference of the Methodist Churches that was held in 1881 and the Ecumenical Missionary Conference held in New York in 1900 both used the term “ecumenical” as an international geographical designation. The Ecumenical Missionary Conference in New York City in 1900 did not claim to be representing the church universal. The ecclesiastical dimensions of the term were in fact intentionally downplayed. It was the whole of the inhabited globe, the world beyond the church, that the conference organizers intended to lift up in their use of the term “ecumenical.” Unity was important to the extent that it served the mission of the church. Mission leaders had become convinced that divisions among churches impeded their mission in the world beyond Western nations, from which most missionaries were being sent by various separated communions. Unity and mission were thus intrinsically connected in the twentieth-century Ecumenical Movement. 33 SPECTERS OF A NEW ECUMENISM: IN SEARCH OF A CHURCH “OUT OF JOINT” 15

The most important of the ecumenical missionary conferences was the one that most historians of the Ecumenical Movement cite as its offi cial launching: the World Missionary Conference, in Edinburgh, Scotland, in 1910. From Edinburgh 1910 the trajectories of the Ecumenical Movement go in three distinct directions. One of them continued through the efforts of the Edinburgh conference Continuation Committee to shape international missionary efforts. The International Missionary Conference was the outcome of this stream. A second major initiative that came out of Edinburgh 1910 did so indirectly. Delegates at Edinburgh 1910 understood themselves to be representing mission organizations and not necessarily the communions themselves. Discussions of unity were mainly conducted at the level of cooperative activities and did not seek to move to underlying theological questions of an ecclesiological nature. Charles H. Brent attended the Edinburgh Conference as the US Episcopal Church’s missionary bishop for the Philippines. He left Edinburgh convinced that a stronger effort to achieve unity in faith and order was needed. Later that year he was successful in getting the Episcopal Church to set in motion the organizing effort for a World Conference on Faith and Order. The Congregational Church and Disciples of Christ both initiated similar efforts that same year. Leaders of the Episcopal Church commission contacted these other bodies and soon had brought them on board in a combined effort to begin planning for a world conference. The day- to-day work of organizing Faith and Order fell to another member of the Episcopal Church, a layperson named Robert H. Gardiner. Supported by gifts from several major philanthropists, Gardiner set to work con- tacting heads of communions around the world to bring their churches into the conversation for Faith and Order. Gardiner was selective in his approach, however. His fundamental impulse was to reach out to churches or communions that defi ned themselves as national bodies. Although others from among the Episcopal Church leadership were eager to try to involve Rome, Gardiner was not as sure that Rome should be involved. Refl ecting the commitment of the wider Anglican communion to working with Orthodox churches in the East, on the other hand, Gardiner contacted a host of Orthodox heads of communions throughout eastern Europe. His racist views toward African Americans led him deliberately to exclude the Black Baptists and African Methodists. 34 At one point he also wrote to Peter Ainslie of the Disciples of Christ in 1913 that he had taken the liberty to invite a Dunker (Church of the Brethren) to join one of the planning meetings. Gardiner continued, “It has been impossible 16 D.T. IRVIN so far and, in my opinion, it would have been inexpedient to include in our formal invitations all the various small Communions in the United States.…” 35 The lingering memories of Christendom East and West were too powerful. Ecumenical expediency required the exclusion of “all the various small Communions” from the emerging Ecumenical Movement in 1913. The specters of those small Communions would come back to haunt the movement by the end of the century. The onset of war in 1914 proved to be a major obstacle in the organizing work of Gardiner and others in Faith and Order. The war was also the occasion for the Federal Council of Churches in America, an organization made up of several major Protestant communions in the USA for promoting a common social witness, the heads of several Lutheran churches in Scandinavia, and several churches in Holland and Switzerland to issue a joint appeal for Peace and Christian Fellowship. 36 A number of other European church bodies quickly joined the conversation, and even Rome sent a message of goodwill. A fi rst gathering was attempted in 1917, but real work toward an international conference was begun in 1920 by Nathan Söderblom, Archbishop of Uppsala and head of communion for the Church of Sweden. Söderblom was particularly concerned with restoring the political clout that churches had once exercised in European society. 37 A committee representing Protestant, Anglican, and Orthodox communions in Europe and North America was formed to undertake a “Universal Christian Conference on Life and Work.” Four presidents were appointed: the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Ecumenical Patriarch, the Archbishop of Uppsala, and the Secretary of the Mission Board of the Presbyterian Church USA. Söderblom was the driving force for the effort. The Universal Christian Conference on Life and Work fi nally opened on 19 August 1925 in Stockholm, Sweden. The Anglican bishop of Winchester preached the sermon at the opening worship service and the King of Sweden brought his greetings. “It is with the greatest satisfaction I bid you, representatives of the Church from the old world and the new, from orthodox and evangelic Christendom, welcome to the Capital of Sweden,” he said. He then went on:

Sixteen hundred years ago, the trusted men of the Church of that time met in Nicea [sic] to give expression to their faith in our Saviour and in the being and revelation of God. The meeting now held here, more than one and a half thousand years later, has a not less important aim. 38 SPECTERS OF A NEW ECUMENISM: IN SEARCH OF A CHURCH “OUT OF JOINT” 17

The fi rst speaker to reply to the King was His Beatitude, Photius, Patriarch of Alexandria, who was a member of the Orthodox delegation. He began by stating:

Since God has granted me the privilege of appearing before you on this day, the happiest of my life, I am fi lled with admiration for your most gracious words…. The quiet tones of your speech, Your Majesty, brought before my eyes, as in a wonderful picture, the vision of those blessed kings whose story the Holy Scriptures tell and whom all the world justly admires. And I saw, as in a trance, the great Emperor Constantine opening with a speech inspired from above the fi rst Ecumenical Synod, whose decisions have confi rmed the truths of the Christian faith in the world. 39

A specter has haunted the twentieth-century Ecumenical Movement, and his name is Constantine the Great. Sixteen hundred years after Nicaea, the specter still lingered. Christendom was divided, and as a result European civilization was at risk. The delegates at Stockholm, as those at numerous other ecumenical conferences and gatherings that were still to come in the course of the century, were intent not just upon bringing about reconciliation among divided churches, but fi nding ways to renew the social power that churches had once exercised within European culture and civilization. Rather than leave behind their identifi cation with state and empire, these architects of the Ecumenical Movement at the end of the day were intent upon renewing it. Almost all the churches or communions represented at Stockholm, just as virtually all the churches or communions involved in the early days of the Faith and Order Movement, held on to memories of being part of Christendom, of being aligned with the dominant European political order, and after 1650, of being aligned with the emerging nation-states of the West. There were a few exceptions. The Salvation Army had a Commissioner at Stockholm listed among the representatives of “International Christian Organizations,” which were organizations considered not to be communions or churches. 40 But they were the exception. Twentieth-century ecumenical life for the most part was a function of politically and culturally established (in the USA they came to be called “mainline”) churches who modeled their administrative life along lines of the modern state, and who considered religion to be a matter of establishment, whether it was formal or not. The Ecumenical Movement accomplished much in the course of the twentieth century, although signifi cantly it did not bring about a reunited Christendom, which many took to be its main goal or purpose. 41 The 18 D.T. IRVIN theological accomplishments of the movement as a whole make it without question one of the most important episodes in the long history of Christianity on the face of the earth. What is also clear looking back at this history, however, is that the churches and communions that participated in the Ecumenical Movement or that supported its instrumentalities and agencies with leadership and fi nancial contributions were churches and communions that had long memories of political or cultural establishment, long memories of being legislative bodies organized along the lines of Western nation-states. The churches that participated in the Ecumenical Movement were largely organized, governed, and administered along either monarchical or republican lines as states. Individual persons or local congregations did not join the World Council of Churches, the organization that was formed by the merger of the Faith and Order and Life and Work movements in 1948. Denominations or communions joined the World Council. This more than any other factor led to the belief among more conservative Protestants in the Anglo-American world that the World Council was intended to become an administrative entity that exercised global rule. The unity that the movement ultimately sought was a unity informed by the memory of Nicaea. It was not just a theological memory of the doctrine of the Trinity. It was also a social and political memory of canons, legislative actions, and hierarchical structures by churches that mostly modeled their life along the lines of political entities called states. Most communions that joined the World Council assumed a national political location as part of their identity and organized authority accordingly. Look, for instance, at the constant search in twentieth-century ecumenical life to involve “heads of communions” who were authorized to speak for an entire church body in a manner similar to that of a head of state. It was memory of an ecclesiology that took state formations to be the basis for the reign of God, thereby accepting the authority of these state entities within the life of the church. No matter how much we qualify the judgment, in the end the ecumenical memory in the twentieth century remained an imperial one. Leonardo Boff has made the point that whatever else it might be, the church is always also a social institution. Following the logic of Chalcedon that informs the doctrine of Christ’s two natures in the incarnation and the communicatio idiomatum that goes on between them, Boff argued that the church has two dimensions or natures, “the religious-ecclesiastical realm (institution)” and the “ecclesial-sacramental realm (sacrament, sign, and SPECTERS OF A NEW ECUMENISM: IN SEARCH OF A CHURCH “OUT OF JOINT” 19 instrument of salvation).” 42 According to Boff, they are distinct but mutually related. The institutional realm is conditioned by, and coincides with, specifi c forms of organization of the mode of production and reproduction in society. The church is always fully part of a wider society in its institutional nature or realm, even if it cannot be fully reduced to this in its ecclesial-sacramental dimension or realm. In its religious-ecclesiastical dimension or realm, by the fourth century the church came to be organized along the hierarchical lines of state and society. This has never been the entire story, however. The history of the church began in fact with an alternative social formation. Where Jesus pursued social practices that were counter-hegemonic, the church in time came to assume the characteristics of the dominant social forms and structures of the society in which it lived. “But the domination is never total,” argues Boff. 43 The fact that he called upon the church to embrace an alternative identity that was being born from among the poor in base ecclesial communities pointed to his conviction that alternatives existed in the past and not just in the origins with Jesus, and that they continued to exist as possibilities for the present and future life of the church. 44 Following Boff, I argue that the church has an irreducible historical dimension or nature, which is largely determined by the material social, political, and economic conditions under which it lives. No society is ever totally uniform. Every society knows of differences and divisions in social order and power. Every society has a dominant or ruling form however, and these largely coincide with the ruling structures of the state, which can be defi ned as the exercise of sovereignty. The Christian movement emerged from a dominated sector in the fi rst century of the Common Era on the edge of the Roman Empire. It underwent a signifi cant change in sociological form in its early days, however, as the majority party began to pattern itself after the dominant social order of the Roman imperial state. This transformation came to be fully realized in the fourth century with the embrace of Roman imperial life. The dominant churches both East and West organized themselves along the lines of the dominant imperial state, mirroring the material social and economic conditions under which they lived as well. This is as true for those churches that were part of the Ecumenical Movement of the twentieth century as it was of churches in the fourth century in Constantinople or in the twelfth century in Western Europe. But dominant is not the same as totalized. There have always been social alternatives, counter-movements, and even forms of social resistance at work against forces of social and political domination. These movements have been determinative in the emergence of the new ecumenism. 20 D.T. IRVIN

THE NEW ECUMENISM A new ecumenism is afoot in world Christianity. It is not really new, for it has been with us all along, but is now coming to the forefront in our global discussions. Let me, following Gardiner, call it an inexpedient ecumenism, or the ecumenism of the inexpedient. In the long history of Christianity, the unhinged Jesus movement gave rise to the Apostolic and Catholic Church of Nicaea. But even Nicaea recognized that not all the followers of Jesus were within the institutional life that had gathered under imperial rule. Nicaea made provisions in its canons for allowing Cathari and Paulianists to take refuge within the great Catholic and Apostolic Church for instance. The excluded came to be deemed schismatics and heretics, but such designations, and even efforts to exterminate them by violence, did not end their existence. The sixteenth century witnessed the breakup of the Roman Catholic Church as a host of churches emerged under the banner of evangelicalism or Protestantism. Some of these formed as national church bodies that aligned themselves with state institutions of power and authority, continuing the long tradition of politically established ecclesiologies in either monarchical or now republican (Presbyterian or Congregational) form. An entire wing of the evangelical or Protestant movement formed outside such state identities, renouncing any intrinsic connections to state sovereignty and eventually the exercise of violence, although not breaking with civic life and the wider economy. These Anabaptist confessions or communions carried on their own life within the wider material economy of European culture and civilization. Their dissenting and Baptist cousins in England even found ways to embrace common civic life without fully embracing state structures—or allowing themselves to be embraced. In time even the Baptists came to a large degree to make their peace with the state structures under which they lived, however, maintaining their own internal democratic rule in institutional life but often fi nding ways to accommodate themselves to the modern nation-state. These were the churches or communions that formed the Ecumenical Movement in the twentieth century. They were mostly the descendants of Protestant communions that had formed along state lines in Europe and, although disestablished, continued to align themselves with the dominant culture and its political and social life, in North America. They reached out early on to invite the Orthodox in the East to join them, and sought unsuccessfully (some might add “half-heartedly”) to engage Rome. At the SPECTERS OF A NEW ECUMENISM: IN SEARCH OF A CHURCH “OUT OF JOINT” 21 same time this Ecumenical Movement was forming early in the twentieth century, a number of new fellowships and bodies were emerging, not just in North America but in other parts of the world. The most visible or prominent among them after 1910 were those that identifi ed with the Pentecostal movement, whose identity came to be tied to the Azusa Street Revival of 1906–1909 in Los Angeles. Azusa Street, as Cecil M. Robeck has so compellingly demonstrated, stood fi rmly in the long Black Church tradition in the USA, which drew in part upon the memory of the independent churches on plantations that composed what Albert Raboteau called “slave religion.” 45 That tradition continues to be a major stream fl owing into the new ecumenism. African independent churches were also already forming by 1910, as were independent church movements in Asia and Latin America. Representatives from these bodies were not invited to Edinburgh for the World Missionary Conference that set in motion the twentieth-century Ecumenical Movement. The new ecumenism is now arising in part from the faith, order, life, and work of these churches who were not invited to the ecumenical state dinner. Many of these churches formed in the last century, especially those that identify themselves with the global Pentecostal movement, have organized themselves not along lines of sovereign nation-states with traditional notions of membership that are modeled on citizenship. They operate instead as businesses competing in a global cultural marketplace for con- stituencies, if not consumers. Pentecostal churches have always shown a strong entrepreneurial bent. 46 I would note that this tendency was not at odds with the African American heritage that formed part of the geneal- ogy of the early Pentecostal movement, but was part of the complex urban identity of the Pentecostal movement from its inception. 47 It is fl ourishing among Pentecostal and charismatic churches in this age of globalization, consonant with their transnational character. 48 The implications not only for the internal governance of these churches, but for their relationships to the authority of the states in which they live and work, are signifi cant. Like corporations operating in the global economy, these churches are still subject to a certain degree to the laws of various national entities under which they function, even as they move across various national boundaries and conditions. They see themselves generating spiritual capital which they are investing back in the world. They have enthusiastically embraced an entrepreneurial model of life and work. As a consequence the new ecumenism tends not to work along the organizational lines of legislative states that shaped so much of ecumenical 22 D.T. IRVIN life in the twentieth century, but along lines of market economy and capital. Ideas tend to fl ow and circulate across borders like capital. Rather than gather in a World Council of Churches that resembles a spiritual version of the League of Nations or United Nations, their leadership prefer to gather at events that look like marketing conferences or trade conventions. These gatherings are called and promoted with marketing savvy. Leadership itself is highly charismatic, and infused with an entrepreneurial spirit that often leaves traditional ecumenical leadership perplexed. This new ecumenism is emergent, convergent, charismatic, Pentecostal, missional, evangelical, contemplative, mystical, biblical, ancient-modern, sacramental, sanctifi ed, constructive, and more. It resists the tendency to categorize policies, practices, and ideas in simplistic either/or terms such as “liberal” and “conservative,” or “evangelical” and “catholic.” It is increasingly becoming detached from the traditional understandings of church that were so much a part of Christianity in its dominant Western (Roman Catholic and Protestant) forms that recognized membership along the lines of citizenship and constructed identity along lines of nationality. One could only be one thing in the older model of church life. Participants in this new ecumenism often belong to more than one communion, often worship in more than one church tradition, and often identify themselves as being more than one thing when it comes to being Christian. Persistent border-crossing is becoming the norm in Christian life globally. Virgilio Elizondo, a Mexican-American Roman Catholic pastor and theologian, was one of the fi rst to announce that a “new ecumenism” was afoot in an essay titled “Hispanic Theology and Popular Piety: From Interreligious Encounter to a New Ecumenism” that was delivered at the Catholic Theological Society of America in 1993. The immediate context of Elizondo’s refl ection was the Mexican-American reality on the Texas side of the border. Since 1519 Mexican-American people have undergone multiple experiences of conquest and domination that have constituted their “evangelization,” he argued. The most recent was the efforts by those he called “Fundamentalists” from the White Anglo community whose “evangelism” sought to eliminate Mexican-American Catholic identity. This long history of conquest and domination has resulted in multiple forms of mestiz o experience in both culture and religion that was one of both marginalization and border-crossing. A new experience among the theologians of the wider Hispanic community had recently been taking place, however, Elizondo argued. He pointed specifi cally to a gathering more than a decade earlier of Hispanic theologians and doctoral students SPECTERS OF A NEW ECUMENISM: IN SEARCH OF A CHURCH “OUT OF JOINT” 23 from various communions or denominations, who had come together at the Mexican American Cultural Center in San Antonio. Refl ecting upon the gathering, Elizondo wrote:

Our denominations had fought each other in the fi eld, but here on our common ground, it was more like a family reunion. There was not so much an awareness of difference, as of profound similarity and commonalty. We all knew that many of our Churches had functioned as rivals and even enemies…. Many interdenominational friendships and cooperative efforts started here. It was the birth of a new ecumenism . 49

Around the same time, but from a very different theological perspective, Thomas C. Oden, a theologian ordained in the United Methodist Church, began to write and speak about a “new ecumenism.” An address that he delivered before the Institute on Religion and Democracy in 2001 laid out in broad strokes what he called “a basic reconfi guration of ecumenism.” 50

The irony of the new ecumenism is that it is much older (by a millennium) than what we are here calling the old ecumenism. So by old we mean old modern, by new we mean new classic. The old ecumenism is focused on new structures of organic unity. The new ecumenism is seeking to restore classic Christian verities within and despite the old divisions.

Oden went on to argue that the old ecumenism identifi ed with the World Council of Churches and other instrumentalities in the twentieth century had among other things accommodated itself too easily to modernity, “suffered the shock of wave after wave of ideological excesses,” and been overly bureaucratized. The new ecumenism by contrast, he argued, was oriented toward the teachings associated with the ancient Christian councils (especially Nicaea 51 ), was critical of modernity, and was accompanied by “a growing commitment to the defense of free societies, an incremental view of social change, plausible arguments warranting a free market, and equity judgments shaped by classic Christian moral reasoning.” Most interesting in my reading of Oden, he poses the resistance to institutionalization and “top heavy administration” as key aspects of the new ecumenism. He argues that the new ecumenism seeks to achieve unity not through institutional means but in the Spirit. Its retrieval of Nicene orthodoxy is achieved not through a consultative process of delegates representing various churches or communions. The new ecumenism is guided instead by the undefi ned and non-institutionalizing work of the 24 D.T. IRVIN

Spirit, he says. 52 It might be committed to ancient ecumenical teachings, but it does not require one to join a particular church, nor to be baptized or confi rmed in a particular communion. Absent from much of Oden’s argument is the necessity of a single, unifi ed, visible, institutional church, the unam sanctum . The institutional nature of the church hardly fi gures in Oden’s new ecumenism, to say nothing of membership policies allowing for admission to communion. In short one can embrace ancient orthodoxy and catholicity without becoming Orthodox or Roman Catholic. Oden notes almost in passing at one point the fact that the formation of the World Council of Churches took place at the same time that the United Nations was being formed. 53 The implication is that there is a parallel between the two institutions. I think he is right. As noted earlier, I also see a parallel between citizenship in a particular nation-state and membership in a particular communion or denomination. Globalization, Sassen argues, might have signifi cantly weakened the modern nation-state, but it cannot and will not eliminate it. This is because in fundamental ways globalization both historically assumes and depends upon the nation- state. The same can be said for the new ecumenism. Without eliminating entirely the administrative institutional structures of various denominations and communions, the new ecumenism is regularly crossing them. 54 New post-denominational confi gurations are emerging as a result. Sassen argues that a number of capabilities that were exclusively exercised by states through the course of the modern era are now passing over into denationalized hands as the lines between the public and private realms get redrawn. This denationalization in turn is resulting in new expressions of public policy that are no longer bound to territorial defi nitions of sovereignty. She argues that what is emerging at the level of national formations are fl uid assemblages of cross-border networks often coalescing around specifi c local issues but with trans-local or transnational (global) consequences, then disbanding just as quickly, only to reform elsewhere under new charismatic initiatives. 55 The new assemblages of globalization do not stand outside state formations, even if they are not confi ned to them. Globalization will continue only so long as the nation-state continues to exist, Sassen argues. Her conclusions are highly applicable to the contemporary ecumenical situation:

Ultimately the picture that arises from this work is one of emergent assemblages. The nation-state and interstate system remain critical building blocks but they are not alone, and are profoundly altered from the inside SPECTERS OF A NEW ECUMENISM: IN SEARCH OF A CHURCH “OUT OF JOINT” 25

out, not just as a result of external forces, because they are one of the sites for today’s foundational change.… These emergent assemblages coexist with vast stretches of older historical formations constitutive of the modern nation-state. It is then, also in this sense, that they are emergent. The process of denationalization is in full swing. This does not mean that it will ever be absolute—nothing is in history. But it does mean that more is to come. 56

The new ecumenism resembles the fl uid assemblages and cross-border fl ows of globalization and exile. 57 Exile and globalization are closely interwoven realities, both forming over against the fi xed identities of nationalism. The older ecumenism resembled these more fi xed assemblages of the nation-state. Nationalism was itself in most cases an assemblage out of non-national parts as the modern era formed, but it tended toward settled formations and uniform articulations. In the same way that globalization and exile both presuppose and depend upon the nation-state even as they challenge it, however, the new ecumenism does not replace the old but in fact assumes it and builds upon it. Another way of saying this is that without the institutionalizing work along administrative and legislative lines that the older ecumenism achieved, the new ecumenism would not be possible. At the same time, without the vitality of new ecumenism con- tinuously re-emerging, the older ecumenical institutions and the churches that gave rise to them will not survive, or will be rendered irrelevant by the very forces of political formation and statehood that structured them in the past. One example of this new ecumenism, and some would argue its most prominent expression, is the contemporary global Pentecostal movement or experience. One is hard-pressed to be able to defi ne Pentecostalism as a single reality. Indeed, it makes much more sense to talk about global “Pentecostalisms,” given the fl uidity of structures and the extraordinary pluralism found in and among churches and other bodies that identify themselves with the ongoing network of global Pentecostal connections. 58 The revival that was centered in the Azusa Street Mission in Los Angeles from 1906 to 1909 is properly cited by most scholars of global Pentecostalism as being a key, if not the founding moment, in Pentecostal history. Yet even the most adamant defenders of the place of Azusa Street in the history of the twentieth-century Pentecostalism do not come close to defi ning the role of the Los Angeles revival in terms that scholars of the twentieth-century Ecumenical Movement have assigned to the 1910 World Missionary 26 D.T. IRVIN

Conference in Edinburgh. No privileged institutional body in the global Pentecostal movement ever emerged along the lines that the World Council of Churches came to occupy in the Ecumenical Movement. As Michael Bergunder has suggested, it makes more sense to map the network of Pentecostal movements as a “global discursive formation” following historical connections and synchronous interrelations than as a single institutionalized movement. 59 The manner in which the diverse strands and movements of global Pentecostalism are part of the new ecumenism is demonstrated well by Amos Yong in his book The Spirit Poured Out on All Flesh : Pentecostalism and the Possibility of Global Theology . The manner in which these diverse Pentecostals engage not only the nation-state, but in contemporary political theology more broadly, is addressed in his subsequent book, In the Days of Caesar : Pentecostalism and Political Theology . 60 One could go on to cite other more specifi c examples of the new ecumenism at work from a wide range of theological perspectives. 61 Almost always one fi nds reference to a new movement of the Spirit taking place through them; indeed it has become quite common to see the new ecumenism being called an ecumenism of the Spirit. 62 Repeatedly the new ecumenism breaks the rules of the old, without necessarily rendering the old irrelevant. The new ecumenism operates trans-regionally, trans- nationally, and trans-denominationally, crossing boundaries without necessarily erasing them. The post-ecclesial experience that characterizes the new ecumenism depends upon and draws from ongoing ecclesial experiences that were part of the old ecumenism. The new ecumenism mini- mizes ecclesiological questions, but it can only do so as long as the older ecumenism has provided a body of work that addresses them. The new ecumenism embraces what Letty Russell called “open ecclesiology,” but it can only do so against the defi ning background of more or less “closed” and thus coherent ecclesiologies. 63 Should the accomplishments of the older Ecumenical Movement of the twentieth century be forgotten or pass into oblivion, the movement will have to be recreated. That is seen constantly in the efforts of new ecumenical leadership to fi nd their conversation partners from the past. Such conversation partners are critical. Otherwise the new ecumenism will simply create structures that resemble the older institutional formations of denominational life and experience that it seeks to move beyond. There is a new ecumenism growing along the borders, on the cutting edges, and in the margins. It is radically inclusive and radically disrup- SPECTERS OF A NEW ECUMENISM: IN SEARCH OF A CHURCH “OUT OF JOINT” 27 tive. 64 Often this new ecumenism gives the appearance of being at odds with itself as much as with what came before. It is an ecumenism that is unhinged. It is just as easy to call it conservative or reactionary as it is to call it liberal or progressive. Good. It needs to be so, and it needs to allow itself to be haunted by the specters of the old ecumenism, that of the Ecumenical Movement of the twentieth century, precisely in order to remain unhinged. Only in that way can the new ecumenism be able to achieve what the old also sought, to be a part of a counter-conjuration that promises to make the world out of joint, thus more in line with that new thing that is promised to us as yet to come.

NOTES 1. Jacques Derrida, Specters of Marx: The State of the Debt, the Work of Mourning and the New International , Peggy Kamuf, trans. (New York and London: Routledge, 2006), 6. 2. Derrida, Specters of Marx , 10. 3. Derrida, Specters of Marx , xviii. 4. Derrida, Specters of Marx , 45–46 (emphasis original). 5. Derrida, Specters of Marx , 106–107. 6. Norman Goodall, The Ecumenical Movement : What It Is and What It Does (London: Oxford University Press, 1961), 2. 7. Barbara R. Rossing, “(Re)claiming Oikoumen ē ? Empire, Ecumenism, and the Discipleship of Equals,” in Walk in the Ways of Wisdom : Essays in Honor of Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza , Shelly Matthews, Cynthia Briggs Kittredge, and Melanie Johnson-Debaufre, eds. (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2003), 58–73. 8. Rossing, “(Re)Claiming Oikoumen ē ?” 76–79. 9. See Rossing, “(Re)Claiming Oikoumen ē ?)” 79–82. 10. See Averil Cameron, Christianity and the Rhetoric of Empire : The Development of Christian Discourse (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994). 11. For the classical study of early Christian diversity in thought and practice, see Walter Bauer, Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1971); and more recently Bart D. Ehrman, Lost Christianities : The Battles for Scripture and the Faiths We Never Knew (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005). 12. Sozomen, A History of the Church in Nine Books from A.D. 324 to A.D. 440 , in The Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church 2nd series, volume 2 (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 1952), 253. 28 D.T. IRVIN

13. Eusebius, Life of Constantine , in The Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church 2nd series, volume 1 (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 1952), 521. 14. Robert M. Grant, “Religion and Politics at the Council at Nicaea,” Journal of Religion 55:1 (1975), 5. 15. Jaroslav Pelikan, The Excellent Empire : The Fall of Rome and the Triumph of the Church (San Francisco: Harper and Row Publishers, 1987), 24. 16. Pelikan, The Excellent Empire , 27. 17. Pelikan, The Excellent Empire , 26. 18. See also Henry Chadwick, “Christian and Roman Universalism in the Fourth Century,” in Lionel R. Wickham and Caroline. P. Bammel, eds., Christian Faith and Greek Philosophy in Late Antiquity: Essays in Tribute to Christopher George Stead in Celebration of His Eightieth Birthday 9th April 1993 (Leiden: Brill, 1993), 26–42. 19. Edward Schillebeeckx, The Church with a Human Face : A New and Expanded Theology of Ministry (New York: Crossroad, 1988), 46–50. 20. Willem A. Visser’t Hooft, “The Word ‘Ecumenical,’ Its History and Use,” in A History of the Ecumenical Movement , 1517–1948 , Ruth Rouse and Stephen Charles Neill, eds. (Geneva: WCC, 1986), 737. 21. See William G. Rusch, The Witness of Bartholomew I , Ecumenical Patriarch Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2013). 22. “Patriarchal and Synodical Encyclical of 1902” in Constantin G. Patelos, ed., The Orthodox Church in the Ecumenical Movement : Documents and Statements , 1902–1975 (Geneva: WCC, 1978), 30. 23. The claim is made by Willem A. Visser’t in The Genesis and Formation of the World Council of Churches (Geneva: World Council of Churches, 1982), 2. For a full consideration of the importance of Archbishop Strenopoulous in the twentieth-century Ecumenical Movement, see Vasil T. Istavridis, “The Work of Germanos Strenopoulos in the Field of Inter-Orthodox and Inter- Christian Relations,” Ecumenical Review 11:3 (1959), 291–299. 24. For the full text of the encyclical, see Michael Kinnamon and Brian E. Cope, eds., The Ecumenical Movement : An Anthology of Key Texts and Voices (Geneva: World Council of Churches, 1997), 11–14. 25. See Leonardo Boff, Church : Charism and Power : Liberation Theology and the Institutional Church , John W. Diercksmeier, trans. (New York: Crossroad, 1986), 111. 26. I have quoted from the translation found in Oliver Joseph Thatcher and Edgar Holmes McNeal, eds. A Source Book for Mediæval History : Selected Documents Illustrating the History of Europe in the Middle Ages (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1905), 220. 27. For the text of the document, see among other sources Thatcher and McNeal, eds. A Source Book for Mediæval History , 334. SPECTERS OF A NEW ECUMENISM: IN SEARCH OF A CHURCH “OUT OF JOINT” 29

28. Humanae salutis , para. 6, accessed online from the Vatican webpage at http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/john_xxiii/apost_constitutions/1961/ documents/hf_j-xxiii_apc_19611225_humanae-salutis_lt.html . 29. Unitatis Redintegratio , para. 1, accessed online from the Vatican webpage at http://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vat-ii_decree_19641121_unitatis- redintegratio_en.html . 30. Unitatis Redintegratio , para. 4, accessed online from the Vatican webpage at http://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vat-ii_decree_19641121_unitatis- redintegratio_en.html . 31. Unitatis Redintegratio , para. 6, accessed online from the Vatican webpage at http://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vat-ii_decree_19641121_unitatis- redintegratio_en.html . 32. Karl Rahner, Theological Investigations XI (New York: The Crossroad Publishing Co., 1974), 32. 33. References to the pairing of unity and mission in the ecumenical discourse of the twentieth century are far too numerous to cite entirely here, but to begin, see David G. Moses, “Mission and Unity: The Two Poles of the Ecumenical Movement,” The Ecumenical Review 5:3 (1953), 248–252; Henry P. Van Dusen, One Great Ground of Hope : Christian Mission and Christian Unity (London: Lutterworth Press, 1961) Martin E. Marty, Church Unity and Church Mission (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 1964); Willem A. Saayman, Unity and Mission : A Study of the Concept of Unity in Ecumenical Discussions Since 1961 and Its Infl uence on the World Mission of the Church (Pretoria: University of South Africa, 1984); Mercy Amba Oduyoye, “Unity and Mission: The Emerging Ecumenical Vision: A Reading of ‘Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry’ and ‘Mission and Evangelism: An Ecumenical Affi rmation,’ ” The Ecumenical Review 39:3 (1987), 336–345; and Michael W. Goheen and Margaret O’Gara, eds., That the World May Believe : Essays on Mission and Unity (Lanham, MD: University Press, 2006). 34. John F. Woolverton, Robert H. Gardiner and the Reunifi cation of Worldwide Christianity in the Progressive Era (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 2005), 120. 35. Robert H. Gardiner to Peter Ainslie, 1 May 1913, in Robert H. Gardiner Correspondence 1910–1924 , (Geneva: World Council of Churches, n.d..; microfi lm from Drew University Library). Woolverton, Robert H. Gardiner , 140, cites from this same letter to argue that Gardiner was attempting to broaden the conversation regarding faith and order in the face of opposition from his own Episcopal Church. Signifi cantly, however, Woolverton fails to cite Gardiner’s statement about it being “inexpedient” to invite all the “small Communions in the United States.” While I appreciate Woolverton’s insights in many other areas regarding Gardiner’s work, I read Gardiner’s intentions regarding the “small Communions” contrary to the way Woolverton does here. 30 D.T. IRVIN

36. G. K. A. Bell, ed., The Stockholm Conference 1925 : The Offi cial Report of the Universal Christian Conference on Life and Work (London: Oxford University Press, 1926), 3. 37. See Bengt Sundkler, Nathan Söderblom : His Life and Work (Lund: Gleerups, 1968), especially Chap. 9, “Great European.” 38. Bell, ed., The Stockholm Conference , 46. 39. Bell, ed., The Stockholm Conference , 47–48. 40. Bell, ed., The Stockholm Conference , 37. 41. On the irony of this history, see Dale T. Irvin, Hearing Many Voices : Dialogue and Diversity in the Ecumenical Movement (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1994). 42. Boff, Church , Charism and Power , 110. 43. Boff, Church , Charism and Power , 111. 44. Boff, Church , Charism and Power , 131–164. 45. Cecil Melvin Robeck, Jr., Azusa Street Mission and Revival : The Birth of the Global Pentecostal Movement (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2006); Albert J. Raboteau, Slave Religion : The “Invisible Institution ” in the Antebellum South (New York: Oxford University Press, 1978); David Douglas Daniels, “The Cultural Renewal of Slave Religion: Charles Price Jones and the Emergence of the Holiness Movement in Mississippi,” PhD. dissertation, Union Theological Seminary, New York, 1992. 46. “Pentecostals, to be sure, evidenced an entrepreneurial spirit from the Pentecostal movement’s inception,” notes Joseph W. Williams, in Spirit Cure : A History of Pentecostal Healing (New York: Oxford University Press, 2013), 146. 47. See Dale T. Irvin, “Meeting Beyond these Shores: Black Pentecostalism, Black Theology, and the Global Context,” in Estralda Y. Alexander and Amos Yong, eds., Afro-Pentecostalism : Black Pentecostal and Charismatic Christianity in History and Culture (New York: NYU Press, 2012), 233–248. 48. See, for instance, Ayantunji Gbadamosi, “Exploring the Growing Link of Ethnic Entrepreneurship, Markets, and Pentecostalism in London (UK): An Empirical Study,” Society and Business Review 10:2 (2015), 150–169. On the transnational character of Pentecostals, see Andre Corten and Ruth R. Marshall-Fratani, eds., Between Babel and Pentecost : Transnational Pentecostalism in Africa and Latin America (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2001). 49. Virgilo Elizondo, “Hispanic Theology and Popular Piety: From Interreligious Encounter to a New Ecumenism,” CTSA Proceedings 48 (1993), 11 (emphasis mine). 50. Thomas Oden, “The New Ecumenism and Christian Witness to Society,” accessed online at http://www.ucmpage.org/articles/toden3.html . The next SPECTERS OF A NEW ECUMENISM: IN SEARCH OF A CHURCH “OUT OF JOINT” 31

several quotes from Oden come from the same source. He provides a fuller discussion of these points in his subsequent book, The Rebirth of Orthodoxy : Signs of New Life in Christianity (New York: HarperCollins, 2002). 51. See also Christopher R. Seitz, ed. Nicene Christianity : The Future for a New Ecumenism (Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2001). 52. Oden writes, “Indeed there is much that we do not know of what the Holy Spirit is doing on our behalf, although we can and do know something. This work is happening all about us, yet often without our recognition.” 53. Oden, “The New Ecumenism and Christian Witness to Society,” accessed online at http://www.ucmpage.org/articles/toden3.html . 54. It is important to note here that the word “diocese” was originally the term for the basic administrative districts of the Roman Empire. After 325 and the Council of Nicaea it was directly appropriated from imperial Roman governance for the organization and rule of the churches under the empire. 55. Saskia Sassen, Territory , Authority , Rights : From Medieval to Global Assemblages (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2006), 3–15. See also idem, “Towards Post-National and Denationalized Citizenship,” in Engin F. Isin and Bryan S. Turner, eds. Handbook of Citizenship Studies (London and Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, 2002), 277–293. 56. Sassen, Territory , Authority , Rights , 403. 57. Edward W. Said, “Refl ections on Exile,” in Refl ections on Exile and Other Essays , (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2002), 137–149. 58. The fi rst scholar I know to use the term “Pentecostalisms” in the plural was Walter J. Hollenweger, “An Introduction to Pentecostalisms,” Journal of Beliefs and Values : Studies in Religion & Education 25:2 (2004), 125–137. Hollenweger opens that essay with the observation, “So far there is no agreed defi nition on the worldwide Pentecostal movements” (125). 59. Michael Bergunder, The South Indian Pentecostal Movement in the Twentieth Century (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 2008), 12. The debate among scholars regarding Pentecostal origins is too vast to note here, but a summary is found in Dale T. Irvin, “Pentecostal Historiography and Global Christianity: Rethinking the Question of Origins,” PNEUMA : The Journal of the Society for Pentecostal Studies 27:1 (2005), 35–50. On the World Council of Churches, see Lukas Vischer, “A Privileged Instrument of the Ecumenical Movement?” The Ecumenical Review 43:1 (1991), 90–99. 60. Amos Young, The Spirit Poured Out on All Flesh : Pentecostalism and the Possibility of Global Theology (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2005); and idem, In the Days of Caesar : Pentecostalism and Political Theology (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2010). 61. One prominent example of the new ecumenism at work is Ecclesiological Investigations International, whose 2013 gathering in Belgrade was the original 32 D.T. IRVIN

occasion for this essay. Ecclesiological Investigations defi nes itself as a network of international scholars, research centers and projects, and not a church or para- church organization. For more information see http://www.ei-research.net /. 62. Peter Hocken, Pentecost and Parousia : Charismatic Renewal , Christian Unity , and the Coming Glory (Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2013), 92, writes: “The hope for anew ecumenism of the Spirit can energize the Ecumenical Movement at all levels.” 63. Letty M. Russell, Church in the Round : Feminist Interpretation of the Church (Louisville: Westminster/Jon Knox Press, 1993), 21. 64. See Yvette A. Flunder, Where the Edge Gathers : Building a Community of Radical Inclusion (Cleveland: Pilgrim Press, 2005). Although she tends not to use the terminology, Dr. Flunder embodies many aspects of the new ecumenism. An ordained minister in the United Church of Christ, she is also the founder and Presiding Bishop of The Fellowship of Affi rming Ministries, a body that describes itself on its mission page as being “a trans- denominational fellowship of primarily African American Christian leaders and laity representing churches and faith-based organizations from all parts of the country ranging from ultra-conservative backgrounds to more liberal, independent churches; from upstart, developing to very large, established; from economically challenged to very affl uent. The overriding purpose of The Fellowship is to support religious leaders and laity in moving towards a theology of radical inclusivity which, by its very nature, requires an equally radical social ministry reaching to the furthest margins of society to serve all in need without prejudice or discrimination” ( http:// www.radicallyinclusive.com/mission-of-our-ministry ). CHAPTER 2

Religion and the State: Contexts, Controversies, and Conjectures in Australia, Indonesia, and Egypt

Patricia Madigan

INTRODUCTION Australia, Indonesia, and Egypt? This choice is somewhat personal as I am from Australia—a society which is usually understood as being “secular.” I also have some experience of both Indonesia, as one of our nearest neighbors with its unique form of religion-state relations in the form of the Pancasila , and of Egypt, with its ongoing struggle over the place of religion in the political life of the nation. A recent study by Jonathan Fox 1 has concluded that the impact of constitutional clauses on state policy regarding religion is somewhat limited. Policy is, rather, the result of a historical discourse that takes place and evolves over time within civil society and the courts. The specifi c word- ing in the constitution can be a starting point for this discourse, or even a snapshot of this discourse at a particular point in time. However, since

P. Madigan ( ) Dominican Centre for Interfaith Ministry, Education and Research, Strathfi eld , NSW, Australia

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2016 33 L.D. Lefebure (ed.), Religion, Authority, and the State, DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59990-2_2 34 P. MADIGAN policy is based on interpretation of often terse clauses which are open to multiple interpretations, it is understandable that there may be a disconnect between these clauses and specifi c religious policies followed by the state. He calls for further research to identify additional historical, cultural, political, and economic factors that may impact on a state’s religion policy. Certainly, the place of religion within the state of countries as diverse as Australia, Indonesia, and Egypt cannot be understood simply by their respective constitutional clauses without a consideration of how historical, cultural, political, and economic factors have shaped the interpretation of these clauses in their national development of religion and state relations. Australia is a majority Christian country and part of the “developed” world, while Indonesia and Egypt have a Muslim majority and are part of the “developing” world. Australia and Indonesia experience themselves as part of the Asia-Pacifi c region, while Egypt’s culture is middle-Eastern. All three countries have a colonial history. Australia sees itself as having a secular government while at the same time experiencing strong participation by religious groups as part of its civil society. Indonesia tries to steer a middle path between a secular and an Islamic state with its state ideology of Pancasila , yet some minority religious groups experience their rights as limited or suppressed. In Egypt, in the wake of “The Arab Spring” and as Egypt enters a new phase of political transition, there is division in the community and debate about the appropriateness of Islamic law as the foundation for Egyptian society. I will now look at the three countries’ constitutions and how historical, political, and other factors have helped to shape their relations with religion, focusing on a particular state-religion controversy within each nation. I will also indicate what, if anything, these three nations might learn from one other as they grapple with issues of religion, authority, and the state from their differing perspectives.

AUSTRALIA Modern Australia was born in division—a division that was both social and religious. 2 In 1788 the Church of England had arrived in the new colony of New South Wales as part of a penal settlement by the British government. At fi rst, the division was between convicts who were predominantly Irish and Catholic, and their masters whose political and religious allegiance was to the established Church of England. 3 As life in the colony developed, some divisions disappeared and there developed a working RELIGION AND THE STATE: CONTEXTS, CONTROVERSIES, AND CONJECTURES... 35

balance of relationships among others as colonial society moved toward a measure of national unity—a pragmatic approach which continues to be a feature of Australian constitutional life over the last two and one-quarter centuries. The Australian Constitution, which was infl uenced by the federal constitutions of the USA, Canada and Switzerland, 4 was inaugurated on 1 January 1901 and contains the introductory sentence:

The people of New South Wales, Victoria, South Australia, Queensland, and Tasmania, humbly relying on the blessing of Almighty God, have agreed to unite in one indissoluble Federal Commonwealth….

Section 116 of the Australian Constitution makes provision for the protection of religious rights, stating:

The Commonwealth shall not make any law for establishing any religion, or for imposing any religious observance, or for prohibiting the free exercise of any religion, and no religious test shall be required as a qualifi cation for any offi ce or public trust under the Commonwealth.

Such was the division between the establishment Anglicans and the general Irish Catholic population that on the day of the Inauguration ceremony of the Commonwealth of Australia in January 1901 when the mass choir sang “O God our help in ages past/Our hope for years to come” and the Anglican Primate of Australia, William Smith, recited a prayer of thanksgiving, the Catholic head of church, Cardinal Patrick Moran, was not on the platform. He was vexed at precedence in the procession and ceremony being given to the Anglican Archbishop and had organized his own celebration outside St Mary’s Catholic Cathedral with many priests, nuns, and Catholic people present. After this the secular celebration of the event began. 5

EMERGENCE OF THE SECULAR STATE The development of Australian colonial government was infl uenced by the events and ideas of the time. These included the demands of the Chartist movement in England, coinciding with revolutions in continental Europe, the struggle to extend the franchise in the UK, and the spread of utilitari- anism through the work of Jeremy Bentham and JS Mill, with its pragmatism and emphasis on outcomes. 6 36 P. MADIGAN

Historical events which may have formed a background to Australia’s concern to avoid the establishment of a state church included the English civil wars of the mid-seventeenth century. The Protestant republic and military “protectorate,” which was established in its aftermath, killed hundreds of thousands of people—not only King Charles I but perhaps a quarter of the people of Ireland in an episode of religiously inspired ethnic cleansing. 7 The twentieth century saw a great fl ourishing of religious arguments in favor of religious freedom, for example, Reinhold Niebuhr, Protestant pastor and scholar, and Vatican II’s Declaration on Religious Freedom (Dignitatis Humanae ). The philosophical debate over freedom of religion in Australian legal and political institutions has been very much infl uenced by the Western European tradition as exemplifi ed by, for example, John Locke who used a combination of religious and philosophical reasoning to argue for religious tolerance. More recently, John Rawls has continued this liberal philosophical approach to religious freedom. 8 However, the relationship between government and religious groups is a complex one that has shifted over time and religious groups exercise more political power on some issues than others. The tug of war between secularist and religious approaches to issues of law and government is manifested in a way in which the legal protection of religious freedom has been developed in Australia as a compromise between different political and world views—as a series of legal compromises. 9 In contemporary times there has arguably been a resurgence of religion in public life. Australian political leaders such as John Howard, Kevin Rudd, and Peter Costello have been more willing to speak about their religion and Julia Gillard, former prime minister, made it clear that as an atheist she respected the beliefs of those with religious faith. In recent years, religious aspects of policy making have become more prominent in public debate. Questions range from whether a bill of rights would undermine religious freedom, whether religious institutions should be exempt from non-discrimination laws, and whether governments should fund religious schools. In 1901 when the Australian Constitution came into force, Australia was demographically an overwhelmingly Christian country. Today, people of non-Christian religions in Australia make up 7.3 % of the population and 22.3 % of Australians declare they have no religion (about 30 % altogether). 10 It is increasingly true to say that Australia is a multi-religious country that is starting to come to terms with the reality of people of a wide variety of beliefs living together. RELIGION AND THE STATE: CONTEXTS, CONTROVERSIES, AND CONJECTURES... 37

CONTROVERSY OVER STATE SUPPORT OF RELIGIOUS SCHOOLS One area of ongoing controversy in Australia has been that of government fi nancial support for religious schools. Up until the 1840s education had been largely administered by churches which received small government grants. But this had led to a proliferation of schools in one place while there were no schools at all in other places. With the different Christian groups unable to cooperate, between 1872 and 1893 all Australian colonies introduced provisions for the establishment of public schooling that was “free, compulsory and secular.” 11 The Victorian Education Act (the Act), introduced in 1872, was one such example. As is often the case in Australian law, it was designed as a piece of political pragmatism and it was deliberately ambiguous on crucial issues so that it might gain wider support. In principle the Act provided for free, compulsory, and secular education in state schools. It was secular in the sense that all schools subsidized by public funds would exclude religious matters from the school day. It was free because it was made universally available without payment. It was compulsory in that parents were compelled to have their children instructed to certain standards either publicly or at private schools of their choice. But its efforts to maintain an inoffensive neutrality gave it no defense against pressures for a purge of all religious references from its textbooks. It laid the foundations of universal, state-controlled, secular elementary schooling, and in the course of Australian history has come to represent the growth of the secular-liberal society in Australia. 12 Needless to say, the introduction of such “radical” legislation attracted a considerable amount of controversy as the appropriate role of the state in education was debated in depth, both in the parliamentary and public are- nas. 13 The secular school system, which tried to offer an inoffensive neutrality, became the object of passionate criticism from a sizeable Catholic majority while state aid to church schools offended the conscience of secu- larists. In reality, it was a confl ict between two fundamentally different philosophies on human nature, the rights of the family, the ends of education, and the authority of the state. 14 In response, the Catholic bishops, who increasingly viewed the government’s attempt to substitute secular for denominational education as an attack on their religion, turned their energies toward building a self- supporting system of Catholic schools in Australia staffed by members 38 P. MADIGAN of religious orders. 15 The existence of two parallel education systems continued in Australia until the 1960s, when, in the context of global developments and new economic and political pressures, the Australian government pragmatically returned to the practice of legislating in favor of general fi nancial support of the denominational or religious education system existing alongside a public secular education system. The non-establishment clause of Section 116 had little adverse bearing on this situation until the 1980s, when the large amounts of government money being spent on school education in non-government (mostly Catholic) schools was challenged by a group known as the Defence of Government Schools (DOGS). However, rather than withdrawing funding from one set of schools, subsequent Australian federal governments such as that of Prime Minister John Howard (1996–2007) chose to provide funding to an increasing range of religious and private schools. 16 In 2013, 65.25 % of Australian school children attended government schools in which education is secular, 20.25 % attended Catholic schools, and 14.23 % attended Independent schools, most of which are religious. 17 The state and federal governments together contribute over 80 % of the cost of running each non-government school. In this matter, the Australian policy of public funding for schools run by religious organizations is the direct opposite of that followed in the USA. 18 In this Australian case study, we see that the decision of the state in the 1960s to fund religious schools was not primarily made for philosophical or even educational reasons, but was essentially a pragmatic political decision made on largely economic grounds which was the result of a historical discourse which evolved over time within the Australian civil society and legal system. Therefore it would seem to confi rm Fox’s thesis that constitutional clauses can be a starting point for a discourse in which they are open to multiple interpretations.

INDONESIA Today, Indonesia is a pluralistic society: multi-ethnic, multi-cultural, and multi-religious, with a population of around 247 million people. A diversity of ethnic groups, cultures, customs, languages, and religions exists in this vast archipelago of around 17,000 islands. Six religions are offi - cially recognized: Islam (87 %), Protestantism (7 %), Catholicism (3 %), Buddhism (2 %), Hinduism (1 %), and Confucianism (since 1998). RELIGION AND THE STATE: CONTEXTS, CONTROVERSIES, AND CONJECTURES... 39

The history of Indonesia is a history of rich and diverse religious and cultural experience which has developed over the centuries with waves of explorers, immigrants, merchants, colonizers, and invaders, mixing with the original inhabitants of the land. Early populations included the Malay-Polynesians, who were fi rst to arrive over 6000 years ago. Superimposed on this and facilitated through trade from the sixth to the sixteenth centuries was Indonesia’s Hindu- Buddhist era. The fi rst contacts with Islam came from India to North Sumatra in the thirteenth century. From the middle of the late fi fteenth century Islam was introduced by Muslim traders who established centers which dominated the harbors and coastal regions. In most cases the old and new religions continued to co-exist. 19 Sixteenth-century Dutch trader Jan. Huygen van Linschoten (1563–1611) reported that Jews, Hindus, and Muslims were all living together peacefully, each observing their own laws and ceremonies, “with all three employed in the King’s Council.” 20 In the larger world, however, by the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, changes connected to the beginnings of a process of “globalization” along with shifts in economic and political power in the Indonesian archipelago were already beginning to take place. 21 Around the mid-eighteenth century, when Malay rulers invited Chinese to mine gold, there was an infl ux of Chinese immigrants. Although the fi rst offi cial report of a Christian presence in Indonesia can be traced to 1313, 22 the history of Christianity in Indonesia began in earnest with the arrival of Portuguese in the sixteenth century. Competition between Muslims and Christians for control of the spice trade soon took on the character of a race between religions. 23 The Dutch appeared in 1596 with similar mercenary aims. 24 It was only in the early twentieth century that the real Christian “Age of Mission” began, accompanied by colonial interference in local Indonesian affairs. Communal differentiation on religious and political lines was a modern development which took place at this time, with all religions in Indonesia growing toward stronger orthodoxy. 25 On the eve of Japanese arrival in 1942 during the Second World War, with the exception of communism, the main elements of Indonesian political life as it would develop after independence were in place: political Islam, nationalism, and minority parties supported by Christians and moderate socialists. 26 Around this time, one of the most prominent Islamic leaders, Wahid Hasyim, father of future president Abdurrahman Wahid (Gus Dur), raised the question of future relations between religion and the state when he said: 40 P. MADIGAN

… in our minds the most important question is not, ‘What ultimately should be the place of Islam [in that state]?’ The important question should rather be, ‘By what means shall we assure the place of [our] religion in Free Indonesia? What we need most of all at this time is the indissoluble unity of the nation.’ 27

EMERGENCE OF THE SECULAR STATE After the declaration of Indonesian independence on 17 August 1945, under the leadership of President Sukarno (1945–1966), a Five-Pillar or Pancasila ideology was proposed as the basis for the future state. This ideology or state philosophy consisted of (1) Belief in One Supreme Divinity (2) Humanitarianism (3) National Unity (4) Democracy (5) Social Justice. At fi rst, included in this constitution were the “seven words” after the fi rst pillar of Pancasila translated as “with the obligation for adherents of Islam to practise Islamic law ( shari ’ ah ).” One day after the declaration of independence, after protests from Christians, these seven words were deleted from the provisional constitution, as was the condition that the president had to be a Muslim. These seven words later became known as the Jakarta Charter, and their “illegal” removal has become a sore issue for certain politicized Muslims until this day. The fi rst two presidents of Indonesia, Sukarno (1945–1966) and Suharto (1966–1998), kept the 1945 Constitution in place since it gave broad and strong powers to the president and was easily amenable to authoritarian rule. Sukarno’s chaotic and authoritarian Guided Democracy was marked by personifi cation of power and the president’s self-identifi cation with the state. Suharto’s New Order regime—having secured the backing of the military from which it emerged—continued with an often repressive and sometimes violent approach to dissent, defl ecting calls for increased judicial independence and the introduction of judicial review. 28 In order to bolster their authority, the 1945 Constitution as they interpreted it came to be presented as “sacred” and content immutable. To propose revision or replacement was seen as an act of subversion, punishable with imprison- ment or worse. The 1998 collapse of the Suharto government in the so-called Asian Economic Crisis was a watershed in Indonesian history and the freeing up of politics that followed not only ended military-backed authoritarian rule but also rapidly ushered in a much more open and democratic society. RELIGION AND THE STATE: CONTEXTS, CONTROVERSIES, AND CONJECTURES... 41

Since 1999 there has been what many would regard as an effective transi- tioning to a new and functioning liberal democratic system, marked by a blossoming of civil society and the media which makes it less likely that a swing back will occur. 29 While he was president of Indonesia from 2004 to 2014 Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono sought to revive the Pancasila , in the context of a liberal democratic model of government, stressing that it was one of four basic, non-negotiable pillars of the state, alongside the 1945 Constitution, the unitary state (NKRI, Negara Kesatuan Republic Indonesia ), and pluralism. Pancasila regained a symbolic role in public debate as a state- endorsed symbol of religious and social pluralism and even of resistance to a “formal link between Islamic ideology and the state.” However, for some, it still remains to be seen how effective Pancasila continues to be as an ideological alternative to the application of shari ’ ah and the creation of an Islamic state. 30

CONTROVERSY OVER INTERPRETATION AND APPLICATION OF P ANCASILA One of the ongoing discussions in Indonesia has been about the extent to which it is legitimate to use religion as the basis for political decisions on public policy. Nadirsyah Hosen, drawing on the thinking of many classic and modern Islamic thinkers, has identifi ed two main Islamic approaches to the question of the relation between religion and state. The substantive approach advocates an emancipated understanding to shari ’ ah , stressing its original meaning as a “path” or guide rather than a detailed legal code. Its advocates demand the recovery of itjihad (independent legal reasoning) in order to do justice to both modern needs and the original spirit of the shari ’ ah . It holds that, although divine revelation was neither incom- plete nor faulty, revelation intentionally left certain issues for humans to choose. A second formal approach holds that all constitutional issues should be based on shari ’ ah as practiced by the Prophet Muhammad and the companions in Medina 15 centuries ago. 31 Within the civil sphere there are at least three different interpretations of the notion of religion and state. The fi rst view sees the unity of state and religion. The second view maintains that there should be the strict- est separation between the independent and autonomous institutions of church and state. 42 P. MADIGAN

However, there is a third interpretation of secularization which presents an alternative both to integralism (church-state unity) and the privatization of religion on the other. 32 This view seeks a mutual cooperation between church and state, each having their separate identity, in a relationship of harmonious coexistence. Religion is seen as a value and a common good, and religious organizations are valued as making an important contribution to the social capital of democracy. The state treats the various religious groups with a policy of impartiality. In Indonesia, Pancasila is basically a compromise between secularism and an Islamic state. Both of these terms have negative images in Indonesia and their use is avoided in legal and political areas. 33 Under the 1945 Constitution, Indonesia has been designed to follow the third alternative. The Pancasila -based state, which begins with the principle of Belief in Almighty God, not only allows but encourages religion to inspire Indonesian life in humanitarianism, national unity, representative democracy, and social justice. Some Muslim groups remain unhappy with this “third alternative” and wish to reinstate a clause into the 1945 Constitution which would guarantee the implementation of shari ’ ah . They believe the logical consequence of a Muslim-majority state is to have Islam as the state foundation. This, they believe, would be an effi cient tool to bring all Indonesian Muslims’ faith to a higher level. Others would see that one of the aims of the Constitution is to protect minority groups and view a request to implement Islamic law and belief in a Muslim-majority nation as questionable. It is notable that the two biggest Islamic organizations in Indonesia, Nahdlatul Ulama (NU) and Muhammadiyah, which pushed for an Islamic state in 1955, now no longer do so. They recognize that Islam can be freely practiced and Muslim needs are accommodated through a shari ’ ah judicial system which operates through a network of Religious Courts (Pengadilan Agama ) with jurisdiction over marriage, divorce, inheritance, and waqf (religious endowment). Another “fact on the ground” is that there is no agreement among Muslim scholars regarding what constitutes an Islamic state. 34 Indonesian Catholic scholar Frans Magnis Suseno states that the Pancasila -based state is a win-win solution for all religions, since it is a state where religious life is supported and advanced on one hand, and therefore it is not secular; nor does it promote religion coercively so it is not a religious state either. Others point out that there is a difference between an approach which asserts that no law should contradict Islamic RELIGION AND THE STATE: CONTEXTS, CONTROVERSIES, AND CONJECTURES... 43 teachings, which is the current position in Indonesia, and one in which shari ’ ah becomes one of the sources of law, and possibly would create inequality between Indonesian citizens. 35 Under Article 29 of the 1945 Constitution, religion is able to play a public role at a societal level. It is claimed that Indonesia is neither a secular nor an Islamic state—a position which is compatible with the substantive shari ’ ah approach. In this Indonesian case study, it can be seen that historically the overriding concern for the state, especially since 1945, has been that of maintaining national unity in a religiously and culturally diverse society encompassing a sizeable and geographically spread region. In this context, Pancasila ideology, although it does not in itself exclude the establishment of a state religion, has taken on a symbolic role in public debate as a state- endorsed symbol of religious and social pluralism. Once again it seems that the impact of constitutional clauses on state policy, as Fox suggests, is largely the result of a discourse shaped by historical, cultural, and political factors which leaves the stated policy open to multiple interpretations.

EGYPT The contemporary Muslim-Coptic relationship in Egypt is a multifaceted complex with roots lying deep in past history and modern problems being articulated in traditional idiom. Scholars have identifi ed among Copts two principal strands of thought on their status within Egyptian society— the “national unity” discourse which conceives of Copts so fully and har- moniously integrated into Egyptian society as to be indistinguishable from Muslims. In stark contrast, the “persecution” strand casts the Copts as distinct from Muslims not merely in religion, but in history, culture, and often race. 36 In the “national unity” discourse, Copts tend to view Pharaonic Egypt, Christian Egypt, and Islamic Egypt as a seamless whole, in marked contrast to traditional Muslims who view the Pharaohs as symbols of the evil pagan powers of “jahiliyya,” the age of ignorance and darkness before the arrival of Islam. At the same time in the “persecution” strand, Copts tend to view their history as a long series of persecutions, massacres, forced conversions, and destroyed churches, and have developed a “battered minority syndrome.” 37 A major factor seems to be lack of a clear defi nition of the Egyptian national identity and the lack of a national consensus on such an identity. At the same time there has been an intensifi cation of religious identity at all levels of society and the manipulation of the religious divide by unscru- pulous politicians in order to further their own interests. 38 44 P. MADIGAN

Copts see the period after 1882 as a “Golden Age” when their oppressed community was transformed by expanding opportunities and participation. In the last decades of the nineteenth century they made great strides in education and integrated into Egyptian society, holding some 25 % of Egypt’s total wealth. However, after the middle of the twentieth century, the growing Islamic orientation of the state led to increasing frustration. Sadat’s politically motivated appeal to Islam and his public attacks on the Coptic Church in his speeches in 1980–1981, which were designed to win the support of Islamic fundamentalists and the rich Islamic states, only served to further alienate the Copts who retreated into the isolation of their church and community. Coptic complaints today include the lack of permits for building new churches, a need which has been created by population explosion and urban migration, disadvantages in personal law, discrimination in government appointments and education, and the impo- sition of shari ’ ah on non-Muslims. 39 Muslims for their part see themselves as Egyptians, Arabs, and Muslims, and prioritize each identity according to context. In the 1920s Egyptian Pharaonism seemed dominant; under Nasser Arabism, and in the 1990s Islam became stressed at the expense of the other identities. Most Muslims view history as a long peaceful coexistence between the two communities, even to the extent of conceptualizing Copts as privileged guests in a Muslim home. In stressing the tolerance of Islam they believe that Copts have always been treated well by Egyptian rulers, under whom they have had a signifi cant part to play in Egypt’s administration. 40 Zeidan concludes that a main condition for national unity is the resolution of the question of the identity of the Egyptian political community. The Nasser, Sadat, and Mubarak regimes have failed to create a national consensus, preferring a manipulable ambiguity that leaves the place of Copts in Egypt unresolved. If the question continues to be resolved in favor of Islam, Copts will continue to remain in an inferior position on the margins of Egyptian society. 41

EGYPT—CONTROVERSY OVER ARTICLE II OF THE CONSTITUTION In 1952, a Revolution led by the Free Offi cers movement ended the British occupation of Egypt. The new Constitution of 1971 containing Article II was adopted by the government of Anwar al-Sadat, third president of Egypt (1970–1981), in a period of Egyptian history when the RELIGION AND THE STATE: CONTEXTS, CONTROVERSIES, AND CONJECTURES... 45 government, suffering from a crisis of legitimacy and experiencing civil strife, reached out to Islamists in the hope that this would gain them legitimacy and popular support. A decision was made to amend Article II to state that the principles of the Islamic shari ’ ah would be the main source of legislation in 1980. Since the beginning of the Egyptian Revolution on 25 January 2011, subsequent political events have included the great electoral victories of the Freedom and Justice Party, founded by the Muslim Brotherhood, and the conservative Salafi al-Nur Party as well as the June 2012 presidential election of Muhammad Morsi, for many years a leading member of the Muslim Brotherhood. This has created great fear among non-Islamist Muslims and Christians for the direction the country will take. Their major concern is the push for implementation of Islamic law through Article II of the Egyptian Constitution which stipulates that

Islam is the religion of the state and Arabic its offi cial language. The principles of Islamic shari’ah are the main source of legislation.

Article II originally was an attempt by the late President Al-Sadat (1970–1981) to counter communist infl uence by building support for his rule among traditional Muslims. 42 However, inadvertently, it also served to greatly strengthen popular support for Islam in Egyptian society. Since President Mubarak stepped down on 11 February 2011, the country has been in transition and three main power blocks have been struggling for maximum infl uence in the post-Revolutionary period: the military, Islamists, and non-Islamists. 43 Today, it is also important to note the existence in this debate of a fl edgling reformist “middle-way” (wasaiyya ) movement which argues for national citizenship (muwaana ), not religion, to determine political rights and duties. 44 A comprehensive study of the Egyptian debate on Article II of the Constitution edited by Cornelis Hulsman has been able to show that on the ground in Egypt the debate is more diverse and nuanced than many of its Western-based observers are able to understand. 45 Egyptian political commentator Hani Labib notes that Christians in Egypt do not fear the application of the Islamic shari ’ ah law as much as they are concerned about the practices of certain political Islamic groups that reduce the application of shari ’ ah to just the hudud (penalties in Islam). 46 Hulsman agrees that there is little doubt that the great majority of Muslims in Egypt today want shari ’ ah to be respected and want this to 46 P. MADIGAN be refl ected in Egyptian law. The great majority of Christians also want their Christian principles to be respected and support Muslim demands to enforce their principles, as long as they do not violate Christian principles. 47 However, expatriate Copt arguments are much more aggressive and direct than those made by Copts within Egypt and tend to concentrate on discriminatory aspects. 48 Hani Labib has proposed a text for Article II which would affi rm that the principles of Islamic shari ’ ah are one of the main sources of legislation on one hand and that non-Muslims may have recourse to their own religions and teachings on the other. Such a text, he says, would both meet the need for assurances and guarantees for freedom of belief for all and would be in line with international treaties and covenants. 49 With the departure of Mubarak a rapid succession of events in Egypt included the election of Muslim Brotherhood candidate Mohamed Morsi as president of Egypt, efforts to push through a referendum on an Islamist-supported draft constitution (November 2012), massive protests and violent action throughout the country, and the ousting of Morsi by armed forces headed by General Abdul Fattah al-Sisi (July 2013). The country then moved toward adopting a revised constitution which was overwhelmingly approved by 98 % of those who voted in a referendum held on 18 January 2014. Al-Sisi was subsequently voted in as the sixth president of Egypt (May and June 2014) and sworn into offi ce on 8 June 2014. There seems to have been a general support for Article II remaining unchanged in the revised 2014 constitution as it is seen to maintain the position of shari ’ ah in social conscience. 50 The mostly non-Islamist draft- ers can be seen to have eliminated and modifi ed the most controversial articles and text phrasings added by the 2012 assembly. The new constitution also gives more rights to women and disabled people. 51 Yet controversy regarding the implications and practical application of Article II of the Constitution remains. Adel Ramadan, 52 legal affairs offi cial at a local NGO, affi rms the fact that the 2014 Constitution has discarded elements of the 2012 Constitution which gave political authority to an unelected religious authority on issues related to shari ’ ah , although he is concerned that it may still be possible to block legislation if it is deemed to be contradictory to shari ’ ah law. While he recognizes there is more than one school of interpretation of shari ’ ah law, he believes that governments and upcoming state institutions should RELIGION AND THE STATE: CONTEXTS, CONTROVERSIES, AND CONJECTURES... 47 always give jurisdictional priority to the right to practice freedoms granted under the constitution. Dr. Saad Eddin 53 is concerned that the “three sacred cows” in Egypt— the judiciary, the military, and internal security, which he describes as the “deep state”—have secured the regulation of their own institutions without external oversight. He believes that for effective government there should be an external review and monitoring body. Nobody should be unaccountable. Diana Serodio 54 is apprehensive that many articles pertaining to rights and freedoms in the new constitution have a reference saying, “The rest is to be stipulated by law” or “as regulated by law.” This causes her to wonder how secure these rights are, given the possibility that laws made later on could end up placing a limit on certain rights and freedoms. She notes that Article 141 says that additional criteria for candidacy to the president may be added. Such a clause did not exist in the 2012 Constitution and she is aware that it could open the way, for example, for religious criteria to be added to the presidency. Amnesty International 55 has also noted that in the 2014 Constitution freedom of religion is limited to Islam, Christianity, and Judaism and that, while it mends some shortcomings of the 2012 Constitution, it “leaves the door open for undue restrictions on freedom of expression and assembly.” It also fails to provide for the supremacy of international law over national legislation. Other commentators such as H.E. Amr Moussa, politician and states- man who chaired the Constituent Assembly in 2013, and Dr. Hamil Habib, a Catholic delegate to the Constituent Assembly, have been less critical, considering that suffi cient checks and balances are available in the working of the constitution to prevent abuses of power. 56 After three years without a parliament, a period characterized by widespread repression and human rights violations, and with the two- phased elections scheduled for 18–19 October and 22–23 November 2015, are Egyptians able to coax the military from power and usher in a more democratic future? If this is to happen they will need to be pragmatic and to wage a different kind of revolution—one dedicated to institutional reform. It has been suggested a most powerful force may be that of the growing social movements, in Egypt and beyond, which cut across sectarian, religious, and political divides in order to fi ght for social justice, democracy, and the survival of their communities in com- 48 P. MADIGAN mon opposition to the ravages infl icted on their countries by neoliberal globalization and imperialism. 57 Jonathon Fox’s conclusion that the impact of constitutional clauses on state policy is somewhat limited and that policy is rather the result of a historical discourse that takes place and evolves over time still needs to be tested in the Egyptian context. However, a comment by Diana Serodio that whenever she talks to Egyptians about the research she is doing on the constitutions, they say to her, “You know, what’s written is what’s written, what’s done is completely different,” which would seem to support Fox’s view. 58

CONCLUSION I believe that Australia, Indonesia, and Egypt, at different places along the development spectrum, have much to learn from each other. Jonathan Fox is right when he says that policy on religion and state relations is the result of a historical discourse, infl uenced by cultural, political, and economic factors, that takes place and evolves over time within civil society and the courts. Australia is learning that earlier dominant visions of a universal history and future in which the “enlightened West” leads all of humanity toward the secularization of the world were premature as religions in the multi-cultural and multi- religious Australian society of the late twentieth and early twenty-fi rst centuries reassert themselves, demand their rights, and learn to interact ever more confi dently in the public square. Egypt, in the aftermath of the Arab Spring, is learning that the journey of transition to a modern, inclusive society will not happen overnight and is a pilgrimage with many twists and turns. Like many Western countries prior to them— for example, France, Germany, and America—Egyptians are learning that the toppling of a long-standing authoritarian regime is not the end of a process of democratization but the beginning, as they face many problems which are primarily the legacy of the old authoritarian regimes. Resolving the place and the treatment of minority religions in the emerging Egyptian state will be a symbol and a test of growth in political and religious maturity. Indonesia, with its ideology of Pancasila , economic history, and strong Muslim intellectual leadership, has already traversed some of this ground; but its journey, too, is not complete as it struggles with issues of human and religious rights in a modern, multi-cultural and multi-religious world. RELIGION AND THE STATE: CONTEXTS, CONTROVERSIES, AND CONJECTURES... 49

NOTES 1. Jonathan Fox, “Separation of Religion and State and Secularism in Theory and Practice,” Religion , State and Society , 39:4 (2011), 384–401, accessed 10 June 2013. doi: 10.1080/09637494.2011.621675 . 2. Frank Engel, Australian Churches in Confl ict and Unity 1788–1926 (Melbourne: Joint Board of Christian Education, 1984), 11. 3. Patrick Farrell, The Catholic Church in Australia : A Short history 1788–1967 (Sydney: Nelson, 1968), 5. At fi rst, the religion of convicts who were mostly Catholic was not recognized and they were forced to attend Protestant services. There was also a question of whether Catholics, if they had access to their own priests, might foment rebellion and divide and eventually disinte- grate the infant colony. 4. Russel Ward, A Nation for a Continent : The History of Australia 1901–1974 (Richmond, Vic: Heinemann Educational Australia, 1985, revised), 5. 5. C.M.H. Clarke, vol. 5 of A History of Australia (Melbourne: Melbourne Uni Press, 1981), 178. 6. Cheryl Saunders, The Constitution of Australia : A Contextual Analysis (Oxford: Hart, 2011), 8. 7. Jennifer Clarke, Patrick Keyser, and James Stellios, Hanks Australian Constitutional Law Materials , 9th ed. (Chatswood, NSW: LexisNexis Butterworths, 2012), 34. 8. See John Rawls, A Theory of Justice (The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1971) and Political Liberalism (New York: Columbia University Press, 1993). 9. Carolyn Maree Evans, Legal Protection of Religious Freedom in Australia (Sydney: Federation Press, 2012), 19. 10. Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS), accessed 7 March 2013. http://www. abs.gov.au/ . 11. Peter Meadmore, “‘Free, Compulsory and Secular’? The Re-invention of Australian Public Education,” Journal of Education Policy , 16.2 (2001), 114. 12. Denis Grundy, Secular , Compulsory and Free : The Education Act of 1872 (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1972), 3, 96. 13. Meadmore, ‘Free, Compulsory and Secular’?, 114. 14. Grundy, Secular , Compulsory and Free , 4. 15. Farrell, The Catholic Church in Australia , 126–129. In 1866 there were 19 Catholic schools in Australia, all taught by lay teachers. In 1871 there were 68 schools, 35 of them taught by congregations of religious. When Mary MacKillop, the founder of the Sisters of St Joseph, died in 1909, her order of teaching sisters had nearly a thousand members (119, 121). 16. See Saunders, The Constitution of Australia , 282. An Australian court ruled in 1981 that a law providing grants to private schools, including religious 50 P. MADIGAN

schools, was not a “law for establishing” a religion within the purposive meaning of the law. 17. ABS, accessed 8 March 2013. 18. For instance, it has been alleged that John F. Kennedy “so overstated the supremacy of separation of Church and State that he helped, indirectly to change its meaning: instead of the state not giving any preference to any single (religion), it all changed to the State refusing to allow participation by any (religion).” (Alfred Zarb, letter in The Tablet , 9 February 2013, 18). 19. Adolf Heuken, Be My Witness to the Ends of the Earth! : The Catholic Church in Indonesia before the 19th Century (Jakarta: Cipta Loka Caraka, 2002), 27, and Robert Pringle, Understanding Islam in Indonesia : Politics and Diversity (Singapore: EDM, 2010), 22. 20. Jan. Huygen van Linschoten, Itinerario , I, 50–51, in Karel Steenbrink, Dutch Colonialism and Indonesian Islam : Contacts and Confl icts , 1596–1950 (New York: Rodopi B.V., 2006), 27. 21. Pringle, Understanding Islam , 24. 22. Catholic Archdiocese of Pontianak website, accessed December 11, 2012. 23. Pringle, Understanding Islam , 27–29. 24. Steenbrink, Dutch Colonialism , 21. 25. Karel Steenbrink, Catholics in Indonesia (Leiden: KITLV Press, 2007), 442. 26. Pringle, Understanding Islam , 61. 27. Ibid., 61–62, 64. 28. Simon Butt and Tim Lindsay, The Constitution of Indonesia : A Contextual Analysis (Oxford: Hart, 2012), 5. 29. Ibid., 23–25. 30. Ibid., 248. 31. Nadirsyah Hosen, “Religion and the Indonesian Constitution,” Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 36.3 (October 2005): 420–421. 32. Ibid., 420–423. Here Hosen draws on Jose Casanova, Public Religions in the Modern World (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994), 215, and David Hollenbach, “Politically Active Churches: Some Empirical Prolegomena to a Normative Approach,” in Religion and Contemporary Liberalism , ed. Paul J. Weithman (South Bend: University of Notre Dame Press, 1997), 301. 33. Hosen, “Religion and the Indonesian Constitution,” 424. 34. Ibid., 430. 35. Ibid., 434–435. 36. Paul Sedra, “Class Cleavages and Ethnic Confl ict: Coptic Christian Communities in Modern Egyptian Politics,” Islam and Christian- Muslim Relations , 10:2 (1999): 221, doi: 10.1080/09596419908721181 . 37. David Zeidan, “The Copts – Equal, Protected or Persecuted? The Impact of Islamization on Muslim-Christian Relations in Modern Egypt,” Islam and RELIGION AND THE STATE: CONTEXTS, CONTROVERSIES, AND CONJECTURES... 51

Christian-Muslim Relations 10: 1 (1999): 56, doi: 10.1080/09596419908721170 . 38. Ibid., 53. 39. Ibid., 56–57. 40. Sedra, “Class cleavages and ethnic confl ict,” 220; Zeidan, “The Copts – Equal, Protected or Persecuted?” 60. 41. Zeidan, “The Copts – Equal, Protected or Persecuted?” 63. 42. Cornelis Hulsman, “Examples of misrepresentation of Article II in relation to Christians in Egypt,” in The Sharia as the Main Source of Legislation ?: The Egyptian Debate on Article II of the Egyptian Constitution , ed. Cornelis Hulsman (Marburg: Tectum Verlag, 2012), 43. This book is based on a translation of an earlier work in 2012 in Arabic by Hani Labib, Article II of the Egyptian Constitution ; Towards New Paths , funded by the Middle East Project Initiative (MEPI) to which new chapters have been added. 43. Ibid., 17, 18. 44. See Georges Fahmi, “A Third Force in Egypt Returns to the Questions Raised in Tahrir Square,” Indian Express , 12 November 2013, accessed September 14, 2014. http://indianexpress.com/article/opinion/columns/ the-spirit-of-spring/99/ . 45. Ulrike Bechmann and Wolfram Reiss, Preface to Hulsman, ed., The Sharia as the Main Source of Legislation ?, 11. 46. Hani Labib, “Discussions on Article II of the Constitution in Egypt Need a Calm Approach,” in Hulsman, ed., The Sharia as the Main Source of Legislation ?, 24. 47. Hulsman, “Examples of misrepresentation of Article II,” 136–137. 48. Nushin Atmaca, “Article II in the Debate about Constitutional Amendments in 2007,” in Hulsman, ed., The Sharia as the Main Source of Legislation ?, 190–192. 49. Hani Labib, “Article II and Freedom of Belief” in Hulsman, ed., The Sharia as the Main Source of Legislation ?, 258. 50. Adel Ramadan, quoted in Nada Hussein Rashwan, “Inside Egypt’s Draft Constitution: Role of Sharia Redefi ned,” Al Ahram (English), December 12, 2013. 51. Patrick Kingsley, The Guardian , January 19, 2014. See also Cornelis Hulsman, “Amnesty International Reporting about Egypt’s Draft Constitution,” Arab-West Report , December 11, 2013, accessed September 15, 2014. http://www.arabwestreport.info/year-2013/ week-50/13-amnesty-international-reporting-about-egypts-draft- constitution . 52. Ramadan, quoted in Rashwan, “Inside Egypt’s Draft Constitution.” 53. Diana Serodio, Omar Ali, and Karen Samir, “Interview with Dr. Saad Eddin Ibrahim about the 2014 Constitution (II),” Arab-West Report , September 52 P. MADIGAN

11, 2014, accessed September 15, 2014. http://www.arabwestreport.info/ year-2014/interview-dr-saad-eddin-ibrahim-about-2014-constitution-ii . 54. Diana Serodio and Karen Samir, “Interview with Dr. Saad Eddin Ibrahim about the 2014 Constitution,” Arab-West Report , September 10, 2014, accessed September 15, 2014. http://www.arabwestreport.info/year-2014/ week-36/64-interview-dr-saad-eddin-ibrahim-about-2014-constitution . 55. Hulsman, “Amnesty International Reporting,” accessed September 15, 2014. 56. See Diana Serodio and Karen Samir, “Interview with H.E. Amr Moussa [‘Amru Mūsā] on the Egyptian Constitution,” Arab-West Report , September 10, 2014, accessed September 15, 2014. http://www.arabwestreport.info/ year-2014/63-interview-he-amr-moussa-amru-musa-egyptian-constitution , and Diana Serodio and Omar Ali, “Interview with Dr. Gamil Habib, reserve member of the Constituent Assembly for the Coptic Catholic Church,” Arab-West Report , September 8, 2014, accessed September 15, 2014. http://www.arabwestreport.info/year-2014/week-36/41-interview-dr- gamil-habib-reserve-member-constituent- assembly-coptic-catholic . 57. Michael Albertus and Victor Menaldo, “Why Egypt’s New Constitution May Not Turn Out as Badly as You Think,” Washington Post , 16 January 2014, accessed September 26, 2015. http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/ monkey-cage/wp/2014/01/16/why-egypts- new-constitution-may-not- turn-out-as-badly-as-you-think/ ; Tara Povey, “Social Movements and the Future of Political Change in Egypt,” accessed September 26, 2015. http:// sydney.edu.au/arts/research/rss/downloads/documents/001_Tara%20 Povey_Social_Movements_and_Political_Change_in_Egypt.pdf . 58. Diana Serodio and Karen Samir, “Interview with Dr. Saad Eddin Ibrahim about the 2014 Constitution.” PART II

Africa and Asia CHAPTER 3

A Postcolonial Theological Reading of the Philippines: Church-State Relation and a Familia Dei Response

Pascal D. Bazzell

INTRODUCTION In 2013, we celebrated the pertinent time of the 1700th anniversary of the Edict of Milan. Still today we are experiencing the effects of this historical moment. For example in many places in the Philippines, the month of May is known for its very colorful celebration of the “Flores de

My doctoral qualitative fi eld research revealed that the familia Dei is central to the ecclesial and theological refl ections of my research community. This community living at the margins of Filipino society identifi ed the familia Dei to resonate closely with their cultural milieu and encapsulates the essence, mission, and place of the church within their particular Filipino historical and cultural framework. I further elaborate on the familia Dei imagery in my doctoral dissertation that is an ecclesial ethnography of a Filipino community facing homelessness. See Urban Ecclesiology: Gospel of Mark, Familia Dei and a Filipino Community facing Homelessness (Ecclesiological Investigations Series, New York and London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2015).

P. D. Bazzell ( ) Fuller Theological Seminary , Pasadena, USA

Mayo” (Flowers of May), also known as the Santacruzan. The celebration reenacts and commemorates Queen Helena and her son Constantine the Great’s discovery of the Holy Cross in Jerusalem and their joyful celebration of thanksgiving upon their return to Rome. 1 The biblical and historical characters are represented by beautiful costumes worn by the Filipinos. This celebration that the Filipinos have adopted freely expresses their faith as being the fi rst Christian nation in Asia. We are particularly reminded of this freedom as we celebrate the signifi cant historical event of the 1700th anniversary of the promulgation of the Edict of Milan. It was Emperor Constantine who initiated that Christians worship openly, preach the Gospel boldly, and expand church buildings, which greatly changed the religious landscape of the ancient world. 2 With the rise in power of the Emperor Constantine, the church rapidly experienced growth, expanding over time to become known as the world’s largest religion. Church history reveals not only the beautiful message of the Gospel being brought to the ends of the world, but also that this often occurred hand in hand with colonizing countries expanding their rule in securing benefi ts from their colony. The Santacruzan is one of the festivals introduced by the colonial rule of the Spaniards in the Philippines. These religious rites have shaped popular Filipino Christianity. Nonetheless, globalization and changing philosophical assumptions have changed traditional religious infl uence on the public sphere. The situation of Christianity today, facing an unprecedented era of very diverse and pluriform social and cultural realities, raises questions relating to the role of the church within society. For example, in the Philippines, the recent controversy over the Reproductive Health Bill (PRH Bill) 3 showed the institutional church (particularly the Roman Catholic Church’s pronouncements and edicts made by the Catholic Bishops Conference of the Philippines [CBCP]) aiming to exercise its authority over the state. As the bill was pushed through, the hierarchical church raised voices of great concern blaming secularism in the Philippines and declared to each politician: “We will force them [politicians] to walk the talk and state their positions on the moral stance of the church, as well as their convictions on how they will run the country.” With regard to the elections, “We will bring it out to the people and we will tell them to choose based on the answers. If a politician refuses to make a stand, that will be taken very negatively.” 4 CBCP called already, prior to the bill being passed into law, for denial of the sacraments to all those legislators who supported the PRH Bill. Julia Bautista points out that this bill shows that there is a disconnect between what the church’s offi cial announcements say and A POSTCOLONIAL THEOLOGICAL READING OF THE PHILIPPINES:... 57 the realities that Filipino Christians face in their daily lives. 5 There is clearly a detachment of the “church proclamations regarding sexual morality and the economic and social vicissitudes people face in their daily lives.” 6 This, and many other contemporary factors, have stirred up a whole new conversation about the church-state relation in the Philippines. Whereas historically the church had a strong political voice (e.g., being a primary locus ousting Marcos’ dictatorial regime), today the church faces changing times. This essay examines the Philippine church with a specifi c focus on current leadership and the church’s role within society. I will start by laying out the theoretical construct for a postcolonial reading. This interpreta- tive lens is essential, for there are many neo-colonial cultural biases and prejudices that still run deep underneath the Filipino social world. Many of the institutional churches in the Philippines still seem to operate within the Constantinian mentality of using authority (as seen in the PRH Bill by some attempting to employ potent political force), when in reality the world has changed, bringing the Constantinian era to an end. Although many new challenges that the church faces seem daunting, as change never comes easily, they present tremendous opportunities to critically engage with Scripture, as well as with traditional and contemporary Filipino society, in order to envision new ways of being church as we embrace the story of the Other. Such a self-critical process is crucial if the church aims to continue to be what Pope John Paul II called a “social force” 7 of political and human transformation. To illumine how the church can do so, this essay will attempt to develop a familia Dei 8 ecclesiology as it resonates closely with the cultural milieu; this ecclesiology well encapsulates the essence and role of the church within a particular historical and cultural framework. However, before I engage in this work, let me say that as an outsider, growing up in Switzerland and coming from a different ethnicity, I am aware of my etic perspective. Nonetheless, because I have lived almost all my adult life in the Philippines, and because my wife is a Filipina and both my children were born in the Philippines, I hope to have gained some emic perspective on the theme addressed in this essay.

THEORETICAL CONSTRUCT FOR A POSTCOLONIAL READING In the Philippines, though the physical structure of colonial rule has disappeared, the values and ways of thinking of colonialism still operate to this day. Stuart Hall notes that the relationship between colonialism and postcolonialism is much more complex and intricate than it is assumed to 58 P.D. BAZZELL be, because the condition of post-independence in many ways “is characterized by the persistence of many of the effects of colonization.” 9 Joerg Rieger explains that while colonialism is formally over, below the surface relationships of power and dominance continue, which are preserved in the economic, cultural, religious, and intellectual structures and are often hidden. 10 Postcolonial theory, Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak argues, pays critical attention to the hidden ethico-political agenda that drive the differentiation between the oppressor and the oppressed. 11 A postcolonial perspective helps unveil the agenda of neo-colonialism, which hides behind “an empire which collapses space into information, earth into colony, and difference into product.” 12 As the colonizer and the colonized are complexly interconnected, the process of addressing the effects of colonization and seeking change results in both parties experiencing liberation. 13 A postcolonial reading is basically concerned with a power relation where the center is established at the expense of the subaltern. 14 Antonio Gramsci explains that “subalternity is a condition marked by the absence of a will or project on the part of a social group to achieve an integral organic critical self-consciousness.” 15 Hence, a postcolonial reading strategy places “the margin as a site of creative re-visioning” 16 and therein provides a theoretical framework of embracing subaltern voices. 17

POSTCOLONIAL READING OF THE CHURCH-STATE RELATION Since the time when the early Church organized internal ecclesiastical structure and practices, one of the perennial challenges throughout history has been the relationship between church and state. Through the centuries, the discussions have led toward many solutions to this problem of what the Letter to Diognetus (5.5.8) articulated—the notion of “dual citizenship.” As Christians we are citizens of our birth countries, and, with the birth into new life in Jesus Christ, we become citizens of another Kingdom. Some Christians have preferred to emphasize their heavenly citizenship, forsaking or at least minimizing any involvement with the state and political life. Others have pointed out their Christian responsibility in supporting the state’s role of ensuring the common good of all. Generally speaking, many Christians and the post-Christian West would probably emphasize mutual independence of church and state. This is in line with Jesus in Matthew 22:21 distinguishing “things that are God’s” and “things that are Caesar’s.” However, in many cases, Alistair Kee men- A POSTCOLONIAL THEOLOGICAL READING OF THE PHILIPPINES:... 59 tions that Christians and non-Christians alike have, since Constantine, co- opted Christ’s name for political purposes, resulting in the dethroning of Jesus Christ. 18 The Filipinos have experienced Christian nations coming to conquer in the name of God, and even more contemporary Western wars. National ideology is closely intertwined with using Jesus Christ to serve their personal interests. If the church seeks to overcome divisions in politics and religion, public and private, it needs to reevaluate its calling to embody a political community which anticipates the coming of the kingdom of God. To continue operating within a Constantinian mind of colonial authority will result in losing the church’s credibility in presenting Jesus as the non-violent “Servant of the Lord” (Isaiah 53) 19 and may result in a similar reality to Constantine’s religion that little resembles Jesus Christ. 20 As we look at the early church within a colonial setting, we already observe tension in the relation between the church and the state. There is a consensus view among New Testament scholars that Luke wrote the early description of the church in the Acts of the Apostles to calm down the fears of the Roman Empire regarding the Jesus movement’s experience of expansion and growth. 21 In Luke’s writings (Luke, Acts) we observe a generally favorable depiction of the Roman centurions (e.g., Luke 7:1- 10, 23:47; Acts 10). When Paul was presented to several Roman offi cials (Claudius Lysias in Acts 23; Felix in Acts 24; Festus in Acts 25; and even Agrippa in Acts 26 as a Roman surrogate) to be scrutinized in light of the Roman Empire’s ideology, they found nothing to object to politically from the perspective of imperial Rome. Paul, in his defense concerning Jesus and Caesar, states, “I have done nothing wrong against the Jewish law or against the temple or against Caesar” (Acts 25:8). As the Roman offi cials vindicated Paul’s teaching and the Jesus community to which he belonged from any threat to imperial Rome, the question then is if the lordship of Jesus is no political threat to Caesar. Kavin Rowe addresses this question and unravels its complexity, noting that even if Paul was vindicated, at the same time the Gospel Paul preached caused violent social upheaval throughout Acts. As the Gospel message particularly required repentance and turning away from pagan worship, this not only had consequences for pagan religious practices, but as Rowe points out, it “was a public act with economic and political consequence” 22 (cf. Acts 16:19-21; 19:17-20, 23-29). 23 Rowe explains this paradoxical situation in Acts that “the Christian mission as narrated by Luke is not a counter-state. It does not, that is, seek to replace Rome, or to ‘take back’ Palestine, Asia, or 60 P.D. BAZZELL

Achaia. To the contrary, such a construal of Christian politics is resolutely and repeatedly rejected…. Basic, then, to Luke’s portrayal of the state vis- à- vis the Christian mission is a narratively complex negotiation between the reality of the state’s idolatry and blindness—its satanic power—and the necessity that the mission of light not be misunderstood as sedition.” 24 Rowe summarizes Luke‘s political theology as follows:

Luke’s theological move requires us to reverse the customary thought patterns about Jesus and Caesar in NT scholarship…. Jesus does not challenge Caesar’s status as Lord, as if Jesus were somehow originally subordinate to Caesar in the order of being. The thought—at least in its Lukan form—is rather much more radical and striking: because of the nature of his claims, it is Caesar who is the rival; and what he rivals is the Lordship of God in the person of Jesus Christ…. From the perspective of the Graeco-Roman world, therefore, things are indeed upside down: Jesus’s lordship is primary—onto- logically and, hence, politically—not Caesar’s. 25

The Filipino history similarly reveals great events where the church got involved in the affairs of the state to uphold peace and justice. For example, the declaration of Martial Law by Ferdinand Marcos on 21 September 1972 heralded a period of great national suppression that in time nurtured the 1986 Revolution, a truly World Upside Down event where the church’s prophetic voice to the masses had signifi cant infl uence on the national elite and political affairs. 26 Religion has often played a role as a central dialogue partner in the Philippines for the Godly transformation of the public sphere. On the other hand, history also reveals the reverse of the church involvement with the state where personal interests, failure of its leadership, and lack of vision for the common good have dic- tated their decisions. Sadly, the church leadership has missed a few great kairos moments that would have greatly changed the widespread reality of poverty and injustice in the Philippines. For example, in 1987 the long- standing issue about the problems of landlessness heated up and while initially the church leadership came alongside the oppressed, nonetheless, they forsook important advocate stands that resulted in the failure in terms of distributive justice. 27 Studies have shown, if the church leadership had urged the national legislature for justice for the landless, the disadvan- taged, and the powerless, then the elite and landed politicians would not have been able to keep exploiting the laws, and truly justice would have been given to the landless. 28 As the Philippines’ political system is known to be dysfunctional and corrupt, the country’s social ills sometimes infl uence A POSTCOLONIAL THEOLOGICAL READING OF THE PHILIPPINES:... 61 the institutional church. During the impeachment case against the Arroyo administration in 2006, reports showed that many sealed envelopes containing money were given by the same administration to the bishops. 29 This is one of the cases revealing the church’s leadership failure, betraying political expediency and moral bankruptcy. This is seen in the absence of any stand condemning such implicit bribery, either by the religious institution or by individuals who refused to accept the bribe. 30 Therefore, if the church truly aims to be guided by the principle of the preferential option for the poor, most often this would require a stand against the powerful running the nation. Cartagenas further explains:

Despite the fact that all this would show the consolidation of elite interest to thwart any programme of social justice, there is as yet no offi cial prophetic critique from the hierarchy. Despite protestations ‘to become the Church of the Poor,’ there is no serious move on the part of church leadership to re- examine its historical ties with the urban and rural landed class just as there is no collective willingness on their part to renounce whatever privileges this arrangement confers, even if it has become clear that their use raises doubt about the sincerity of their witness and demands new social arrangement. With this historical failure to help concretize that which would have abolished the feudal power structure in Philippine economy, one could not help but infer that for the many in the church hierarchy agrarian reform is just another poverty-alleviation project. 31

In 2007, former president Estrada was convicted of plunder “beyond reasonable doubt”; to many it did not come to as a surprise that even though he did not acknowledge any sin, nor ask forgiveness, within a short time the newly elected president graced him with a presidential pardon. As one author said, “[T]he Philippines is so poor because its leaders are corrupt.” 32 How else could that juridically convicted politician during this 2013 election become the mayor of the country’s main capital, Manila? There are of course other poor countries with corrupt leaders; however, Walden Bello explains that the difference in the Philippines is that “the elites were locked in a permanent state of rivalry and whoever, was winning at a certain moment also got to control the state.” 33 In the Philippines, when one is born, status, position, rights, and relations are defi ned within the society based on the family. 34 In the Filipino social world and order, as in much of Asia, it is kinship that regulates and directs much of their relationships and behavior. 35 As each family is aware of their kinsmen, non-kinsmen are distinguished and given a different treatment and priority. Medina explains that usually “kin relations 62 P.D. BAZZELL are characterized by mutual help and reciprocity which in turn reinforce and preserve kinship solidarity and cohesiveness.” 36 The internal structure of a family exists within the wider “networks of relationships with other subsys- tems and with society as a whole. It acts as the link between the individual and the larger social structure.… The Filipino family, for instance, plays a critical role in the social, political, economic, educational, and religious life of the people.” 37 A Filipino’s relationships with public civil servants are often viewed as “extensions of their family with whom they have personal ties, rather than as public offi cials performing their offi cial roles.” 38 When a family elite gains power, they will be often busy fi lling their pockets and making sure their interest and investment are protected as in the next election their power might be handed over to a rival family clan. 39 And even though the Philippines is not traditionally a caste system, it is this colonial conscience that enforces a system that allows only a few to move up socially. 40 Constantine was ruthless in ensuring his personal interests, and so have many powerful elite families taken advantage of their power and authority in ensuring their personal interests at the expenses of the poor masses. To ensure the colonizers’ interests, the Spaniards separated the Filipinos from one another by “empowering” a few elite families to run the country with their personal interest. A hearsay I keep hearing is that fi ve families “own” the Philippines. The underlying truth is that still today, a great chasm exists between the elites and the masses, and public policies are often in place to protect the powerful families. In the public sector, leadership is usually equated with status, power, and authority. Similarly, religious leadership is associated with power. For example, as seen in every election, the politicians go to seek “approval” from the church leadership, including various sects such as the Iglesia ni Cristo or Pastor Quiboloy’s kingdom. The church leadership or cultic leader’s endorsement of a politician would give him the block vote of that whole congregation. In that sense, politicians are often in a tangle to seek the religious leadership’s blessings as that would either make or break their elections. Cartagenas further elaborates the church-state relationship paradigm:

In the church-state relations paradigm, church leaders also cultivate alliances with the oligarchs and business community that are ‘in,’ not ‘out,’ with the state and its apparatus. This the Church does for and on behalf of the poor, but not so much from the logic of empowering poor people but more from the instinct of preserving church interests and a favourable business climate. 41 A POSTCOLONIAL THEOLOGICAL READING OF THE PHILIPPINES:... 63

The reality in the Philippines is that the church-state relation often enhances an experience where “the poor easily become the excluded, their exclusion easily justifi ed by utilitarian consideration.” 42 Therein, Cartagenas points out that “instead of fi lling the gaps created by the weakness of democratic institutions and Filipino political culture, many aspects in current Philippines church life and practice appear to be enlarg- ing them.” 43 The credibility of the church is at stake in a globalized world when it does not address unequal power relations, stand with the poor and marginalized, and engage with a public vision of a united moral conviction for the common good of all. A postcolonial reading of the church-state relation in the Philippines includes several dimensions, such as the contrast between center (elite) and marginal (masses) thinking, elite kinship priorities at the expense of other kinships, and an understanding of power (authority) as self-preserving in disempowering the Other. A postcolonial theological reading particularly seems to dissect how the center of elite families is established at the expense of the masses in the Philippines. For too long has the church been silent in speaking into this social reality. Cartagenas concludes that the church only becomes a “better social force for the democratization of the Filipino polity to the extent that it applies the principles, criteria and norms of its social teaching to its internal structures, governance and ethos.” 44 In the next section, we will not only elaborate how the Church can become the prophetic voice to this social ill in the Philippines but moreover, how it can embody an alternative kinship vision found in the familia Dei that gives insights into more proper internal structures, governance, and ethos in a postcolonial Filipino context.

A POSTCOLONIAL RE-READING OF THE CHURCH IN SOCIETY: A FAMILIA DEI ECCLESIOLOGY In employing Georges Florovsky’s words, the church, “herself a society, a new pattern of social relationship,” 45 provides an imagery, at its true essence, of being what the state ought to be. There are different metaphors or imagery that exhibit what the church as a society looks like. In line with a postcolonial attention to language, I fi nd the family imagery particularly helpful. In Mark 3:34-35, Jesus introduced a new concept of family, the family of God that encapsulates an understanding of the church as τοuς περi αuτoν κuκλo καθημeνους “those seated in a circle around him” [Jesus] and those who are doing God’s will. For Mark’s ancient 64 P.D. BAZZELL audience, and as well as the Filipino today, kinship is the axis of their social world, and therein, this passage challenges the hearer’s allegiance to their family. The metaphor Jesus used for family is understood in the ancient view (and in many cases the Filipinos’ world) to be addressing their social identity, challenging their economic security, talking about the psychological aspect of the place of one’s belonging (primary source of one’s emotional support), and deep-seated cultural values, as family forms expectations, obligations, and norms that inform members of their daily conducts. 46 Jesus is asking for an allegiance shift in a culture that is driven by the well-being of their family into an ultimate allegiance to the mystery of God’s will that is at work in Jesus (Mark 1:16-20; 10-29-30). 47 Jesus establishes a new vision of family, God’s new family (familia Dei ), reorganizing the natural family loyalty and obligations toward a fi ctive kinship group that is shaped around new values of primary loyalty toward God, and an embrace of a new social identity rooted in God’s family. This ecclesial image of God’s family describes God’s fulfi llment found in the experience of family relationship. The National Conference of Catholic Bishops (NCCB) of the United States in their 1994 pastoral letter, Follow the Way of Love, state: “As Christian family, you not only belong to the Church, but your daily life is a true expression of the Church.” 48 Christian families are those that gather around Jesus Christ doing God’s will. “In them,” Florence C. Bourg explains, “Christ is present. They become his body, his Church: they make Christ present in the world.” 49 Likewise, Pope Paul VI states in Evangelii Nuntiandi that “there should be found in every Christian family the various aspects of the entire Church.” 50 From the familia Dei there emerges a spirituality of the lived tensions of our brokenness and God’s wholeness, our weakness and his strengths, our imperfection and his perfection that graciously and merci- fully transforms us into Christ’s image for the profound reality that God has been incarnated in our families. At the heart of the familia Dei is the capacity to “embody” the “genuine nature of the Church” (Gaudium et Spes #48). However, to embody God’s presence in our everyday family activities requires cultivating an awareness of Christ’s presence in all things. Sacramentally the covenantal love between Christ and the Church is embodied in the familia Dei. 51 This is truly profound, demonstrat- ing that the smallest unit in our society, the family, if re-oriented around Christ to do God’s will, is the church. If this is the case, Bourg develops the argument that the role of the family is then “the basic cell of society and of Church in character education, formation of religious identity and A POSTCOLONIAL THEOLOGICAL READING OF THE PHILIPPINES:... 65 vision, and creation of just social structure.” 52 It is within the parents’ and children’s educational journey that they begin to learn and embody justice, reconciliation, works of mercy, and become builders of peace. At the heart of the Church as the familia Dei lies a prime change of allegiance to God. It speaks to some of the deepest cultural values of loyalty to one’s kinship in order to embrace the non-kinsmen as part of the familia Dei. This is where the Gospel truly becomes a stumbling block for those few elite political families that entirely monopolize major sectors of the Filipino industry. Where the elites might lose huge familial assets due to embracing this ecclesial vision, the masses and the poor face the reality of having to share their very limited resources. The familia Dei envisions Church moving beyond one’s immediate kinship structure to a wider vision of God’s family. Due to the cultural map being shaped by a family demanding the deepest loyalties of its members, the ecclesial vision of God’s new family has the potential to nurture a Church that is not only relevant, but that is also a vessel for national transformation. Therein, the mission of the familia Dei nurtures not only one’s close identity of belonging but also the formation of a social vision for the Other, the non- kinsmen. Mission can be described as an adoption process of not only inviting individuals to become members of God’s family but also join- ing whole kinship systems, inviting others to re-orient their lives around God’s will, becoming a familia Dei. When injustice, unequal power relations, and poverty are framed within family language and sharing, then solidarity and belonging become central to the message. The familia Dei becomes the focal point of participating in the life and mission of the Church that inevitably shapes and transforms the whole body of Christ. Then the familia Dei ecclesiology does not merely penetrate the cognitive ontology of the Filipino, but speaks to their intuitive sense of reality and belonging. The familia Dei is a concrete expression of what the kingdom of God is like. 53 It embodies God’s presence through faith in Christ in their ordinary lives. 54 The familia Dei mission becomes the ecclesial framework for reconciliation, fi rst and foremost to God and then to each other. As ordinary lives in the family are exposed to one another like in no other place, the familia Dei becomes a locus of reconciliation through the resurrection work of Jesus Christ. The mission of the familia Dei sets a role model for parents and the education of the children; this mission represents the smallest community of living out God’s kingdom of love, justice, and mercy. At the same time, it is marked with resistance to ideological and cultural forces of 66 P.D. BAZZELL greedy and individualistic consumerism and societal moral permissiveness. It should start in the familia Dei of instilled values for civil duty. The familia Dei provides an ecumenical vision where one recognizes different intra- and interfaith families becoming part of ONE big family of God. The ecclesial framework of the familia Dei may become a legitimate contributor of our Christian unity. Where institutional policies and doctrines nurture diffi culties in our ecumenical dialogue, the familia Dei framework nurtures unity in great diversity (e.g., interchurch or interreligious couples) for the sake of the inclusion of the Other into God’s family. Or, to state it in Bernard Häring‘s words, “The family is the place where religion and life is either integrated or condemned to hopeless separation.” 55 The familia Dei is a culturally relevant way to be a witness in the Filipino social world and at the same time a great challenge to monitor that the ordinary family life embody Christ’s presence. The familia Dei mission is a call to all to gather around Jesus Christ in repentance and sanctifi cation in order to participate in the familia Dei through doing God’s will. The familia Dei is one of the defi ning contributors of society as it belongs to the public sphere and identity of the Filipino. A familia Dei vision provides critical emphasis on the Filipino family and its necessary implication for the church-state relation. One of the key neo-colonial factors that greatly infl uences Filipino society today is the great modern exodus of many Filipino families where one parent emi- grates to live and work abroad. The transnational family has become a great norm in the Philippines where it is estimated that more than a million Filipinos leave the country every year to fi nd work abroad and a better economic stability for their own families back home. In 2012, the Commission on Overseas Filipinos estimated that of about 11 % of the population, approximately 10.5 million Filipinos work or reside abroad. 56 The social economic uplift through the family member or relative working outside has nurtured the reality of Filipino family being contented with geographical separation and displacement. Also, the signifi cant economic contribution of Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs) to the Filipino society has become part of national policy. 57 Yet, this migration movement creates several social problems that the church in partnership with the state needs to address. Not only does the migration move skilled laborers (e.g., nurses, doctors, engineers, teachers) outside the country on a large-scale; it also leaves behind infrastructures that are in need of these skilled people. Moreover, there are many factors negatively impacting Filipino families and, hence, Filipino society. It is beyond the purview of this chapter to A POSTCOLONIAL THEOLOGICAL READING OF THE PHILIPPINES:... 67 develop a comprehensive response for addressing this reality; further dialogue needs to occur in how the church and the state should address family fragmentation, social dislocation, and the alienation of thousands of undocumented Filipino workers. The critical contribution of a familia Dei ecclesiology to the church-state relation is to become the voice of the plight of modern Filipino kinship. A Filipino ecclesiology needs to embody the narrative of the migrant community with their transnational family, addressing the neo-colonial economic and political system at work that further creates marginality, fragmentation, and loss of identity.

SUMMARY This postcolonial reading of the church-state relation in the Philippines pointed out several important dimensions, which included the center (elite)–marginal (masses) thinking, kinship priorities, and an understanding that power (religious and public authority) is often employed as self-preserving in disempowering the Other. In order to address these neo-colonial issues, in particular how the center of elite families is established at the expense of the masses in the Philippines, this chapter argued for a fresh representation of Jesus Christ being embodied in the familia Dei. The familia Dei provides an ecclesial frame for re-assessing the prophetic role of the Church in society through changing its social location to the smallest unit in our society. This is a move away from where most academic scholarly dialogue occurs between the relation of the familia Dei (domestic church) and traditional Church into being attentive to the relations between the familia Dei and society. Listening to the familia Dei narrative will inevitably not only shape our state-church relation but also re-defi ne our religious practices, structure, and ecclesial identity. Instead of seeing the familia Dei primarily through the pastoral care lens, this brings their perspective, values, concerns, and dreams into our ecclesial dialogue and narrative. A theology of the familia Dei can not only nurture a spiritual renewal within the family but also may have some signifi cant implications for our churches. Listening to the familia Dei narrative provides many impulses to see the Gospel further incarnated within a kinship-oriented society. It is the ecclesial vision of God’s family that sheds light into the Filipino culture and polity, challenging the deepest cultural loyalty and re-align- ing its missional engagement of one’s own natural kinship toward other kinships. Therein, the familia Dei ecclesiology not only speaks to the Filipino intuitive sense of reality and belonging but also seeks a vision 68 P.D. BAZZELL for the local church that nurtures re-orientations of the loyalty of families around God’s will that may be major contributors to shape the public sphere and human fl ourishing. Mixed-church relationships are greatly increasing among Christian couples that have often experienced painful stories of ecclesial exclusion. 58 The familia Dei becomes an important ecumenical place of hope for these interchurch or interreligious couple as well as in our ecumenical dialogue. An ecclesial language emerges along the line of the familia Dei of sharing, solidarity, and belonging that addresses injustice, unequal power relations, and poverty. The familia Dei then can become a “social force” that strives for peace, reconciliation, and works of mercy and justice within the family’s immediate environment.

NOTES

This slightly revised version is the runner-up essay of the Henry Martyn East Asia 2013 essay competition, Henry Martyn Centre, UK.

1. http://www.philippinecountry.com/philippine_festivals/santacruzan.html [access date, May 8, 2013]. Scholars question if Helena truly found the True Cross as there has been no record of the cross being displayed in Jerusalem before 350 (e.g., Mark Edwards, “The Beginnings of Christianity,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Age of Constantine , ed. by Noel Emmanuel Lenski [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006], 145). 2. There is a common but inaccurate perception that Constantine as a Christian emperor made Christianity an offi cial religion, but rather, “Christianity was the religion of the emperor but not yet the religion of the empire.” (Edwards, “ The Beginnings of Christianity ,” 137; cf. Averil Cameron, “Constantine and the ‘peace of the church,’ ” in The Cambridge History of Christianity: Origins to Constantine, ed. by Margaret M. Mitchell, Frances M. Young and K. Scott Bowie [Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2008], 538, 551). He did end the persecution of Christians, at least by their non-religionists, and this paved the way to religious toleration (549). 3. The Responsible Parenthood and Reproductive Health Act of 2012 (Republic Act No. 10354) guarantees universal access to methods on contraception, fertility control, sexual education, and maternal care. 4. http://hreplib.congress.gov.ph/cis/?p=4638#more-4638 [access date, May 8, 2013]. 5. Julius Bautista, ‘Church and State in the Philippines: Tackling Life Issues in the “Culture of Death,” Journal of Social Issues in Southeast Asia 25/1 (2010): 36–37. 6. Ibid., 50–51. A POSTCOLONIAL THEOLOGICAL READING OF THE PHILIPPINES:... 69

7. John Paul II used of concept of church as “social force” in his address to the general assembly of Italian bishops on May 29, 1980, says John Carroll, “Religion and Social Change: A Sociologist’s Viewpoint,” in Philippine Priests Forum XIII , no. 4 (1981): 5–9 (8). 8. Alternate expressions are “domestic church,” “church in miniature,” “church of the home,” and “little church.” I prefer the term familia Dei in order not to overemphasize the domesticated church in the house or household but to place the emphasis more on the organic family structure, which seems more appropriate to the Filipino contexts. 9. Stuart Hall, “‘When Was ‘the Post-Colonial?’ Thinking at the Limit,” in The Postcolonial Question: Common Skies, Divided Horizons , ed. by Iain Chambers and Lidia Curti (London and New York: Routledge, 1996), 248. 10. Joerg Rieger, “Liberating God-Talk: Postcolonialism and the Challenge of the Margins,” in Postcolonial Theologies: Divinity and Empire, ed. by Catherine Keller, Michael Nausner and Mayra Rivera (Missouri: Chalice Press, 2004), 205–206. 11. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, A Critique of Postcolonial Reason : Toward a History of the Vanishing Present (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999), 332. 12. Catherine Keller, Michael Nausner, and Mayra Rivera, Postcolonial Theologies : Divinity and Empire (Missouri: Chalice Press, 2004), 240. 13. As Fernando Segovia notes, the aim of postcolonial reading is “not merely one of analysis and description but rather one of transformation: the struggle for ‘liberation’ and ‘decolonization.’” Fernando Segovia, “Biblical Criticism and Postcolonial Studies: Toward a Postcolonial Optic,” in The Postcolonial Bible , ed. R. S. Sugirtharajah (Sheffi eld: Sheffi eld Academic Press, 1998), 64. 14. Stephen D. Moore and Fernando F. Segovia, Postcolonial Biblical Criticism: Interdisciplinary Intersections: The Bible and Postcolonialism (London and New York: T & T Clark International, 2005), 23–78. 15. See Epifanio San Juan, Beyond Postcolonial Theory (New York: San Martin’s Press, 1998), 95. 16. R. S. Sugirtharajah, Voices from the Margin: Interpreting the Bible in the Third World (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1991), 1. Edward Said suggests a postcolonial hermeneutical epistemology for a “contrapuntal reading,” by which he means a form of “reading back” from the perspective of the colonized, to “re-read it not univocally but contrapuntally, with a simultaneous awareness both of the metropolitan history that is narrated and of those other histories against which (and beyond which) the dominating discourse acts.” Edward W. Said, Culture and Imperialism (New York: Knopf: Distributed by Random House, 1993), 59. 17. Essential reading in the vast growing literature on postcolonial theory includes: Homi K. Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London; New York: 70 P.D. BAZZELL

Routledge, 1994); Edward Said, Orientalism (New York: Vintage Books, 1993); and Chakrovorty Gayatri Spivak, ‘Can the Subaltern Speak?’, Colonial Discourse and Post-Colonial Theory : A Reader , eds. Patrick Williams and Laura Chrisman (New York: Columbia University Press, 1994). 18. Alistair Kee, Constantine Versus Christ: The Triumph of Ideology (London: SCM Press, 1982), 120. 19. Gerrit J. Heering, The Fall of Christianity: A Study of Christianity, the State and War (London: Allen and Unwin, 1930), 279. 20. Cf. Kee, Constantine Versus Christ, 120. 21. Cf. Christopher Kavin Rowe, World Upside Down: Reading Acts in the Graeco- Roman Age (Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 53. 22. Rowe, World Upside Down, 45. 23. Rowe explains that “to follow the Way is to inhabit the world in a manner fundamentally disruptive to the practices inherent to the present religious order. That such a disruption unfolds economically is but a necessary consequence of the inseparability of ancient religion from economics, or, to put it more along Luke’s lines, the primacy of the identity of God for a comprehensive pattern of life” (Rowe, World Upside Down, 49). 24. Rowe, World Upside Down, 87. 25. Rowe, World Upside Down, 112–113. 26. For an examination of the church-state relationship under martial law, see Sr Mary John Mananzan , “ Church-State Relationships During Martial Law in the Philippines 1972–1986 ,” in Studies in World Christianity Vol. 8 (October 2002): 195–205. 27. Cf. Aloysius Lopez Cartagenas, “Religion and Politics in the Philippines: The Public Role of the Roman Catholic Church in the Democratization of the Filipino Polity,” in Political Theology 11.6 (2010): 849. 28. Cf. Cartagenas, Religion and Politics in the Philippines, 849–850. 29. Cf. Fermin Adriano, “Undermining Democratic Institutions,” in Intersect 21 (October–December 2006): 10–13 (12). 30. Cartagenas, Religion and Politics in the Philippines, 855. 31. Cartagenas, Religion and Politics in the Philippines, 851. 32. Walden Bello, The Anti-Development State: The Political Economy of Permanent Crisis in the Philippines (Quezon City: University of the Philippines, 2004), 244. 33. Bello, The Anti-Development State, 284. 34. Medina explains: “The family in the Filipino society performs the function of status placement very effectively. Family prestige is a very important basis for stratifi cation. A person is seen not only as an individual but as a member of the family and kin group” (Belen T.G. Medina, The Filipino Family. [2nd ed.; Diliman, Quezon City: University of the Philippines Press, 2001], 60). 35. The basic element of any Filipino community, in fact, the whole Philippine society, is kinship. Jocana explains that through the structural unit of kinship “much local authority, rights and obligation and modes of interactions are A POSTCOLONIAL THEOLOGICAL READING OF THE PHILIPPINES:... 71

expressed, defi ned, ordered and systematized” (F. Landa Jocano, “Filipino Social Structure and Value System,” in The Management of Men , ed. by J. B. M. Kassarjian and Robert A. Stringer [Manila: Solidaridad Pub. House, 1971], 410). 36. Medina, The Filipino Family, 34. 37. Medina, The Filipino Family, 49. 38. Anna Marie Karaos, “Perceptions and Practices of Democracy and Citizenship in an Urban, Middle Class Family,” in Philippine Democracy Agenda: Democracy and Citizenship in Filipino Political Culture , vol. 7, ed. Maria Serena Diokno (Quezon City Third World Studies Center, 1997), 114. Filipinos have adapted rituals that not only strengthen their family ties, but include outsiders with particular status and power to protect the kinship’s interest. For example, baptism not only has a spiritual meaning in the Philippines, it also has economic and status signifi cance. Several Ninongs (godfathers) and Ninangs (godmothers) are carefully chosen by the parents to widen the family support system. As Ninongs and Ninangs are expected to help in times of struggle for the families, often the more wealthy or people in positions of infl uence are asked to fi ll that position. Roces explains that “[a] ninong (godfather) who may be a senator feels obliged to give his aijado (godson) a job in the civil service even if he knows the man is unqualifi ed. A cabinet minister is asked by one with whom he owes an utang na loob to bend the laws for a family business and he feels he must grant the request. Such values reinforce the distinction between the family and the outside group and outline the complex layers implied in the operation of the social values” (Maria Natividad Roces, Kinship politics in postwar Philippines: The Lopez family, 1945–1989 [The University of Michigan, Michigan, 1990], 30, italics in original, cf. p. 22). 39. Bello, The Anti-Development State, 284. 40. Cf. Medina, The Filipino Family, 61. 41. Cartagenas, Religion and Politics in the Philippines, 862. 42. Cartagenas, Religion and Politics in the Philippines, 863. 43. Cartagenas, Religion and Politics in the Philippines, 863. 44. Cartagenas, Religion and Politics in the Philippines, 867. 45. Georges Florovsky, Christianity and Culture (Collected Works of Georges Florovsky , Volume II. Nordland Publishing Co.: Belmont, MA, 1974), 97. 46. John H. Elliott, “Household/Family in the Gospel of Mark as a Core Symbol of Community,” in Fabrics of Discourse: Essays in Honor of Vernon K. Robbins, ed. by Vernon K. Robbins, David B. Gowler, L. Gregory Bloomquist, and Duane Frederick Watson (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2003), 41. 47. This challenges a core value of this culture of living in harmony with everyone, especially one’s own family. An allegiance to Jesus and the God whom he served, which takes precedence over the synagogue, temple, state, every interpersonal relationship and social order and may even lead to division 72 P.D. BAZZELL

within families of blood (Mark 13:12–13; cf. Elliott, Household/Family in the Gospel of Mark as a Core Symbol of Community, 43–47). 48. National Conference of Catholic Bishops (hereafter, NCCB), Follow the Way of Love . United States Catholic Conference 1994 [cited April 15 2013]. Available from http://old.usccb.org/laity/follow.shtml , 2013, p. 8. See also Fammilaris Consortio #21 and #49. 49. Florence Caffrey Bourg, Where Two or Three Are Gathered: Christian Families as Domestic Churches (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 2004), 1. 50. Paul VI, One Evaneglization in the Modern World/Evangelii Nuntiandi 1975 [cited April 15 2013]. Available from http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/ paul_vi/apost_exhortations/documents/hf_p-vi_exh_19751208_evangelii- nuntiandi_en.html . 1975. #71. 51. Cf. Bourg, Where Two or Three Are Gathered, 97. 52. Bourg, Where Two or Three Are Gathered , 3. 53. The familia Dei originates and refl ects God’s kinship structure in the Trinity. The interrelatedness and communal identity of the Church as the family of God characterizes the inner working of the Trinity. The new family is founded in the fatherhood of God, where Jesus as the begotten, consubstantial (of one being) Son is calling the people of God to become his brothers and sisters. Jesus Christ does not take the role of his father, and speaks of the authority given to him by his Father. Jesus Christ is the reason that all nations can gather and at the same time the example of loving brothers and sister in the church and their neighbors. The Holy Spirit as the love, which is intertwined with the Father and the Son, works through the Church as family, a Spirit of truth, unity, and love. The Church as family of God is a participation in the communio of Christ in the mission Dei. As male and female become one in marriage, so does the familia Dei unite diversity (in the image of the Trinitarian love) as a covenantal self-giving of love, an image of the esse of the Church (see Friedrich Bechina, Die Kirche als “Familie Gottes:” Die Stellung dieses theologischen Konzeptes im Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzil und in den Bischofssynoden von 1974 bis 1994 im Hinblick auf eine “Familia-Dei- Ekklesiologie.” [Roma: Editrice Pontifi cia Università Gregoriana, 1998], 54–55; 74–76). 54. “If nothing else,” Bourg states, “the idea of the domestic church challenges much of our cultural common sense by affi rming the potential holiness in everyday activity” (Bourg, Where Two or Three Are Gathered, 51; 47–49). 55. Bernhard Häring, What Does Christ want? (Staten Island, NY: Alba House, 1968), 129. 56. See http://www.cfo.gov.ph/index.php?option=com_content&view=article &id=1340:stock-estimate-of-overseas-fi lipinos&catid=134 [cited Nov. 18, 2014]. A POSTCOLONIAL THEOLOGICAL READING OF THE PHILIPPINES:... 73

57. Kevin O’Neil, “Labor Export as Government Policy: The Case of the Philippines” (Migration Information Source; Migration Policy Institute, 2004), http://www.migrationpolicy.org/article/labor-export-government- policy-case-philippines [cited Nov. 18, 2014]. 58. In some countries almost half of the Christian families are living in mixed relationships (Knieps-Port le Roi, Thomas, Gerard Mannion, and Peter de Mey. The Household of God and Local Households : Revisiting the Domestic Church [Leuven and Walpole, MA: Peeters, 2013], 21). CHAPTER 4

Diagnosing the Politics of Christian-Muslim Confl icts in the West African Sub-Region: Going beyond the Western Paradigm

Chukwumamkpam Vincent Ifeme

OBJECTIVE The confl icts between Muslims and Christians in the West African sub- region have deep roots outside purely religious matters. The radices of the problem include colonialism, tribalism, corruption, inhuman poverty, poor leadership, dictatorship, collapse of government services, paternalism, and the failure of governments/state authorities to combat the internal problems effectively. We will attempt an indigenous diagnosis (more than prescribing solutions) of the economic, political, cultural, and social forces that have continued to hamper human and cultural development which lie at the heart of most confl icts in the sub-region using Nigeria and Côte d’Ivoire as a template. Attempt will be made, employing postcolonial historical deconstruction and social analytical tools, to show that Muslim–Christian relations in the sub-region have become complex and contentious not because both religions cannot co-exist in Africa, rather

C. V. Ifeme ( ) Pontifi cal Lateran University, Rome, Italy

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2016 75 L.D. Lefebure (ed.), Religion, Authority, and the State, DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59990-2_4 76 C.V. IFEME because external global forces, especially Western colonial and imperialist currents, fueled by ineptitude, internal political domination, and dictatorship by African leaders have also used religion as a platform for accession and consolidation of power.

INTRODUCTION Though it may appear obvious there are several confl icts in this region arising precisely from religious clashes and differences—mostly doctrinal interpretations, intolerance, and fundamentalism—between Muslims and Christians; nonetheless the peculiarity of this region is that the very root of the several confl icts could hardly be concluded solely on doctrinal and/ or religious grounds. Otherwise, it will be the same unrest that could arise anywhere Christianity and Islam intersect. We would not, therefore, hastily conclude that all these so-called religious confl icts in this region are simply and always exclusively “religious.” The situation in this region is more complex than that. The role of ethnicity, identity, politics, economic interest, and of course religion in the social instability/stability of this region is a matter of great concern because they are all interwoven to shape the social reality, leaving countries like Nigeria, for instance (and the same could be said of Côte d’Ivoire), with highly explosive mix. 1 Religion may therefore matter in the confl icts, but more at the margins, as a reinforcing element overlaying existing fault lines. 2

The Situation The sub-Saharan Africans boast of being the “most religious” people on earth (Pew Forum 2010). This region could also be seen as the meeting point of Islam and Christianity in Africa (with an obvious sort of syncretic mixture with African Traditional Religion/beliefs). But this meeting point could also be seen as a volatile fault line between the two great religions with the various (religious) confl icts/unrest. 3 The research by Pew Forum (2010) also observed that despite high levels of religious diversity and adherence in many African countries, especially in the sub-Saharan Africa, most Muslims and Christians are not familiar with each other’s faith. There is also a belief that they share few things in common. Nevertheless, “[A]fricans generally rank unemployment, crime and corruption as bigger problems than religious confl ict. However, substantial numbers of people … say religious confl ict is a very DIAGNOSING THE POLITICS OF CHRISTIAN-MUSLIM CONFLICTS IN THE WEST... 77 big problem in their country.” 4 Moreover, “the degree of concern about religious confl ict varies from country to country but tracks closely with the degree of concern about ethnic confl ict in many countries, suggesting that they are often related.” 5 Beyond the surface, one sees that generally in Africa, natural resources, weak state capacity, and socio-economic problems appear to be among the most important robustly signifi cant variables in religious confl ict. 6 Presently, after the “Second Ivorian Civil War” (2011), between the predominantly Muslim north (Ouattara camp) and the predominantly Christian south (Gbagbo camp) the situation in Côte d’Ivoire appears seemingly contained. Yet it is still a fragile state 7 and the situation could simply be compared to an “apparent calm” or a time bomb. Instead, the explosion of Boko Haram in Nigeria remains actual, diffi cult to frame, and momentarily unresolvable.

THE ROOTS OF THE CONFLICTS The cause/causes of the confl icts is/are not just about a particular factor at work but a blend and/or sometimes concurrent factors in continuous fermentations. We will try to diagnose the roots of the confl icts common to both Nigeria (former English colony) and Côte d’Ivoire (former French colony) through which lens other countries in this sub-region could be viewed.

Colonial Infl uence and Lack of Sense of Nationality Like most countries in Africa, Nigeria and Côte d’Ivoire are simply by- products of colonialism. None of these countries could properly qualify as a real “nation-state.” 8 There exists no “common myth” from which to foster unity. This could already constitute the core of instability and endanger their possibility to subsist. Most times, these confl icts would be apparently manifested as religious confl ict, sectional or regional agitations, political instability, or civil unrest resulting from low level of national cohesion as people identify with their own ethnic group and not the country. 9 We take the particular case of Nigeria as an example. One doubts if the present geographical space called Nigeria would ever be a nation unless most of the pertinent issues are properly addressed and redressed. If nationality has to do with the sense of belonging, a feeling one shares with a group of people, an inborn trait, a direct result of the presence of 78 C.V. IFEME elements from the common points in people’s everyday lives such as history, blood ties, culture, language, music, myths, religion, cuisine, and so on, then the actual entity may scarcely be described as a nation. It is evident that nationality is not about mere physical and geographical confi gurations. Nationality is something “spiritual.” Generally, an ordinary Nigerian today has little or no spiritual tie to the country. Broadly speaking, the Southerners, the Northerners, the Westerners, and the Easterners do not share a common spiritual tie of nationality in this sense. The only common factor is being addressed as Nigerians. This could be for a number of factors: fi rst, historically, the diverse groups of people making up what is called Nigeria today did not choose to naturally evolve as a nation nor were they allowed to do so in their own way and with their own rhythm. The Nigerian entity was poorly glued together solely for the interest of the colonizers and not for the interest of the colonized in the scramble for Africa. “That controversial gathering of the world’s leading European powers precipitated what we now call the Scramble for Africa, which created new boundaries that did violence to Africa’s ancient societies and resulted in tension-prone modern states. It took place without African consultation or representation, to say the least.” 10 The various entities that make up the Nigeria of today even during the then colonial days as the “British protectorate” remained separated as Northern and Southern protectorates and the Lagos colony until the “amalgamation” in 1914 under the Baron Frederick John Dealtry Lugard (1858–1945).

Great Britain was handed the area of West Africa that would later become Nigeria, like a piece of chocolate cake at a birthday party. It was one of the most populous regions on the African continent, with over 250 ethnic groups and distinct languages. The northern part of the country was the seat of several ancient kingdoms, such as the Kanen-Bornu—which Shehu Usman dan Fodio and his jihadists absorbed into the Muslim Fulani Empire. The Middle Belt of Nigeria was the locus of the glorious Nok Kingdom and its world-renowned terra-cotta sculptures. The southern protectorate was home to some of the region’s most sophisticated civilizations. In the west, the Oyo and Ife Kingdoms once strode majestically, and in the mid- west the incomparable Benin Kingdom elevated artistic distinction to a new level. Across the Niger in the East, the Calabar and the Nri kingdoms fl our- ished. If the Berlin Conference sealed her fate, then the amalgamation of the southern and northern protectorates inextricably complicated Nigeria’s destiny. Animists, Muslims, and Christians alike were held together by a delicate, some say artifi cial, lattice. 11 DIAGNOSING THE POLITICS OF CHRISTIAN-MUSLIM CONFLICTS IN THE WEST... 79

After these countries were created, the colonial project continued for their sole interests, especially in the political structures that were instituted and handed over to their African successors. The perennial confl ict, for instance, between the north (mostly Muslims) and the south (mostly Christians) in Nigeria, is also traceable to the colonial period and British interests. The British Empire practiced the “indirect rule” by using the Muslim rulers and Emirs in the north and using “warrant chiefs” in the south. The system of indirect rule was intended as a more pragmatic method of maintaining and keeping under control the vast territories conquered from the Africans by employing few British overseers that governed through the traditional rulers, guaranteeing these traditional leaders some prestige, stability, and protection afforded by the Pax Britannica . But the system of “indirect rule” was ultimately and hopelessly fl awed. This is not only because the concept of using “indirect rule” was not conceived as the more humane alternative to an absolute “direct rule” (which could have however been practically impossible then, given the few British personnel available versus the vast territories to be controlled) but because Lord Lugard, to whom the idea was fi rst attributed, was convinced that the European culture could not be adopted by Africans since Africans were inferior people. 12 In this manner, the practice of “indirect rule” sowed the seed of the endemic confl ict between the major Muslim north and the major Christian south in Nigeria:

The confl ict has roots in intergenerational hatreds that started in the colonial era. British Colonial rulers put Muslims in charge in Nigeria’s North, which proves disastrous for religious minorities, including Christians, who were not exempt from Islamic laws. The colonists ruled the South, encouraging missionaries and the growing Christian population. For Muslims, Christianity became associated with the white Colonial rulers, thus brand- ing Christians as enemies. On the other side, many Christians saw their faith as the only true one, which led to hostility toward Muslims. After Nigeria’s independence, decades of tumultuous politics deepened the divide between the predominantly Muslim north and the predominantly Christian south, leading to cycles of violence and confl ict. 13

Secondly, these diverse groups of people have little or nothing in common in terms of their history, origin, cosmology, culture, language, cus- tom, cuisine, religion, or those elements that form the common points in daily living. And the fact of being called a country for so many years had not changed these much either. 80 C.V. IFEME

Thirdly, in Nigeria, every aspect of social and civil life is still drawn along ethnic and tribal lines. There is no true effort to inculcate or encourage a real national cohesion. In practice, the “place of origin” (indigeneity) is privileged over “citizenship.” Furthermore, a practice that had revealed and worsened this lack of cultivation and enhancement of a national spirit is the practice of what is termed the “quota system” or imprinting of the so-called federal character in the Nigerian civil life. Civil service, education, politics, sports, and so on are programmed not on the quality of the particular individual as a Nigerian citizen but on the consideration of the place of origin. This approach was designed out of fear that one part of the country could dominate it over the other, 14 showing that Nigerians had been aware of their intrinsic differences without any intention of blend- ing as a nation at all. This strategy had also backfi red in the long run, resulting in the ineffi ciency of the Nigerian system by making it a “non- meritocratic” society thereby breeding tribalism, mediocrity, and a form of social injustice. 15 We note that historically, the concept of nation-state with fi xed borders is absolutely foreign to most of West Africa (and most of colonized Africa). During most of the colonial period, for instance, all of French West Africa was administered as a single entity. Côte d’Ivoire was considered to include Upper Volta (Burkina Faso). 16 In Côte d’Ivoire, the concept or relevance of Ivorian nationalism could be considered relatively recent. As the name implies, Ivory Coast is a European denomination of the predominant trade (Ivory export) that occurred in this geographical space during the early contact with Europeans (from the 1500s). For some, in fact, before 1975, the majority of Ivorian residents identifi ed with a kin-based or tribal group that could spill geographically in the north across Burkina Faso (former Upper Volta) and in the Southeast across Ghana. “How then did a country with so little belief in a unique nationalism for itself fracture into a civil war driven by ethno-national rhetoric? The answer lies in the manner in which its politicians played in their citizens’ economic fears to defi ne a scapegoat for their poor leadership and to help defeat their political rivals.” 17 T. Ogwang considers the root causes of the Ivorian confl icts as the by-product of deep- seated cleavages revolving around ethnicity, nationality, and religion, and the politicians tapping into these differences to consolidate their monopoly of power. 18 One sees that one of the contextual issues around the “First Ivorian Civil War” (2002–2004), apart from the end of the 30-year presidency of DIAGNOSING THE POLITICS OF CHRISTIAN-MUSLIM CONFLICTS IN THE WEST... 81

Félix Houphouët-Boigny and the tumultuous challenge of grappling with the democratic process for the fi rst time, was also tied to lack of sense of nationality and ethnic tensions. The northern part of the country closely linked with Islamic trade networks around the Sahel region before the arrival of the Europeans are mostly Muslims (Senufo and Malinke) of Gur and Mande languages, while the coastal south and mostly southeastern kingdoms are mostly linked to European merchants and predominantly Christian and animists (Baoulé and Bété) of Kwa and Kru languages. But this sharp divide into Muslim-dominated north and Christian/animists- dominated south is still too simplistic to render the Ivorian ethnic/cultural diversities. This is because Côte d’Ivoire could boast of estimated 60+ ethno-linguistic groups 19 with their various religious hues. Furthermore, there are around 20 % of the Ivorian population that are considered of “foreign descent,” particularly from the poorer neighboring Burkina Faso and Mali. These Ivorians of Mandinka heritage, mostly native of the northern part of the country, may have been subjects of discrimination by some nationalistic/xenophobic politicking because of fear of massive migration and domination by this group. Until the death of Houphouët- Boigny, Côte d’Ivoire was considered an economically and a politically stable country. But

[T]he vibrant economy of Côte d’Ivoire partially concealed the fractious relations that existed between the so-called étrangères , typically of Burkina Faso and Malian heritage, and those of ‘pure-blooded’ Ivoiritè . Despite societal friction based on class, religion and region of origin, Côte d’Ivoire never suffered from civil wars or military coup d’etats [sic ]. To some observers this established the foundation for a stable and prosperous nation…. Little attention was paid to the fragile ethnic fabric of the country and the steps that government offi cials had taken to exacerbate ethnic cleavages, especially in the post Houphouet-Boigny [ sic ] era…. A more profound examination from a historical perspective reveals political divisions along class and cultural heritage lines that had developed systematically over the course of the last one hundred years. 20

Common to these countries, therefore, is the fact that diversity drawn from the long independent histories of their several ethnic groups and regions and their relatively short period of living in a single state, demar- cated by artifi cial administrative boarders, imposed and used as poorly organizational tools by the colonizers, without proper program of assimilation/integration and national cohesion had made it diffi cult to construct 82 C.V. IFEME a stable nation-state. Little wonder, then, that from their post-colonial histories, these two countries (like most in the sub-region) have experienced one or more civil wars drawn along (mostly) ethnic or/and religious lines.

Post-Colonial Interest—Economic and Political Another aspect of colonization or its after-effect in Africa is the continued political and economic interest of the colonists or the West in Africa— referred today as “neo-colonialism” that has contributed to the instability of this region. If one wants to lay the axe at the root of the tree, one would opine that no African country is actually independent. Those who have tried to seek “self-determination” had been systematically frustrated. Côte d’Ivoire was the richest among France’s former colonies and had been considered as the pride of the Francophone empire, labeled in the sub-region as “France’s backyard.” The abundance of resources, especially precious minerals, diamond, and exotic agricultural products like cocoa and coffee, contributed to the prosperity of French entrepreneurs and economy.

In the mid 20th century during the wave of independence on the African continent, the prospect of losing their colonies was a terrifying prospect for the French. In the light of these events General Charles de Gaulle proclaimed the independence of all French colonies but discretely created a neo-colonial architecture to manage the Ivorian economy and political leaders , constructed with the help of his right hand man Jacques Foccart. 21

This alleged neo-colonial French tool gave birth to what is popularly known as Françafrique , with the objective “to maintain France’s strategic position in its former colonies and maximise the benefi ts of their economic and political offerings,” 22 epitomized in the rapport with the fi rst and long-term Ivorian leader, Houphouët-Boigny. Till recently, all the former French colonies in the region had been held by a monetary union (UEMOA), created and controlled by France, with a single currency called CFA (Communauté Financière d ’ Afrique , formerly, Colonies Française d ’ Afrique ). It is still believed that

Today, strategic sectors of the Ivorian economy are run by French multi- nationals. Maritime transport is largely controlled by the Groupe Bolloré owned by one of Sarkozy’s cronies, Vincent Bolloré. This group practically DIAGNOSING THE POLITICS OF CHRISTIAN-MUSLIM CONFLICTS IN THE WEST... 83

controls Abidjan’s Port Bouët, one of the largest container ports in Africa. Furthermore, Bolloré controls the Ivorian-Burkinabé railway, Sitarail, while maintaining a strong presence in other African countries. 23

There is also a very strong French presence in the economy of Côte d’Ivoire as in the rest of Francophone Africa, like Total, France Telecom, Société Général, Crédit Lyonnais, BNP Paribas, AXA, CFAO-CI, the Bouygues Group with interests in construction, electricity, water, and so on. So the intervention of France in Côte d’Ivoire, like other Western countries in Africa, is mostly determined by the ways that match their own strategic political and economic interests. One of the saddest things I discovered reading Chinua Achebe’s personal memoir on the Nigerian-Biafran war (1967–1970) 24 is that while millions of Biafran babies were being slaughtered or were perishing out of hunger and disease, the interest of most Western countries ranged from the assurance of their continued political, economic interest/investment in the petroleum business of the Niger delta to political rivalry and intrigue between Britain, France, the USA, and Russia. The confl ict and its resolution were never considered from/for the interest of the subjects involved or the issue at stake. Those countries in post-colonial Africa that have escaped (tribal) confl icts may have only managed it through maintaining close commercial and geographical ties with the former colonial powers (Jim Hopper). 25 It is not then diffi cult to observe that most confl icts and instabilities, political agitations, and even coup d’état in some African countries are conceived or receive(d) support from the imperial powers and designed along colonial interests in line with this same project of neo-colonization. Cast upon this background, therefore, one sees that Africa is still dependent on her colonial masters and the West still plays some role in the selec- tion (or election) of most African leaders in the “post-colonial” Africa.

Failed States, Insuffi cient Leadership, Political Domination and Dictatorship, Collapsing Government Services, and Corruption Nigeria and Côte d’Ivoire of today could be described as “certifi ed failed or fragile States” because of insuffi cient leadership, political domination, or dictatorship with the collapsing government services and common practice of corruption that breed poverty, unemployment, insecurity, and 84 C.V. IFEME abuse of human rights. The political actors of these countries have also exploited disorder and regional/ethnic/religious tension as political tools for promoting their various personal agenda. In 2015, Côte d’Ivoire ranked 14th in the Fragile States Index 26 and Nigeria 15th, both in the “high alert” section. These two countries are among the worst 20 states in the world to live in. Human Development Index (HDI) 2014 27 shows very low classifi cation for both. This means that in terms of human development, when life expectancy, education, and income are considered, their performances rate very poor. Out of the 187 countries compared, Nigeria ranked 152nd, and Côte d’Ivoire 171st. This poor human development in these countries could be attributed to poor governance with their inept corruption, graft, ethnocentrism, tribalism, prebendalism, 28 and religious discrimination. Nigeria, for instance, is rich in petroleum and is among the fi rst ten exporters of the product in the world with other natural resources. Hence, theoretically, Nigeria may not be considered a poor country but she lists among the worst countries in the world to live in. Côte d’Ivoire is rich in agricultural products and the world’s largest exporter of cacao and fourth-largest exporter of goods in general in sub-Saharan Africa, yet it ranks as one of the poorest countries in the world. Also common to the two countries is that they have once (or more times) since their post-colonial era experienced or are still experiencing political domination or dictatorship in its various forms of military regime or long-term civil regimes that have refused to relinquish power, manipulated electoral processes, or involved in political and electoral intimidations. With rare exceptions, African leaders in general are loathe to relinquish power once they have it. Côte d’Ivoire was ruled by Houphouët-Boigny from 1960 to 1993 and since then had known one coup d’état in 1999 and civil wars in 2002 and 2011. Nigeria had had military juntas from 1966 to 1979 and from 1983 to 1998. Even the democratically elected presidents somewhat attempt to change the constitution toward the end of their terms to favor them remaining in power, causing its own fair share of social unrest. Immediately after the independence, Côte d’Ivoire’s tremendous booming economy was presented by Western capitalists as an example and was termed the “West African miracle.” 29 From 1966 to 1976, the economy grew between 8 % and 10 %. But these would be reversed as the government became overconfi dent and incautious in the management of the rich resources. From 1978 through the 1980s, the country’s economy DIAGNOSING THE POLITICS OF CHRISTIAN-MUSLIM CONFLICTS IN THE WEST... 85 experienced a windfall and utter devastation with the effects of oil shock, a world recession, and the collapse in price of its primary export, cocoa. It is obvious that the economic crisis contributed signifi cantly to the recent Ivorian confl icts or at least set the ground for social, political, and religious crisis because of the ineptitude of the authorities to manage the rich resources at their disposal and maintain national security. On the problem of security for instance, the emergence of the “Brotherhoods of Dozo”, an ancient fraternity of hunters believed to have mystical powers, came to prominence in the Ivorian crisis and have been accused of entering in support of Ouattara, committing abuse of human rights during the confl icts and till date alleged as wielding a paramilitary role, diffi cult to control by the present administration and even ready to be used during elections to intimidate voters and manipulate the results. In this manner, poverty and political exploitation had served as fertile grounds for violence and confl ict in this sub-region. The observation of the situation in Nigeria by Adeniya Ojutiku is summarized in the caption of the interview by Diana Chandler: “Nigerian Islamic terrorism transcends religion” 30 : fi rst, “Islamic terrorism thrives in Nigeria because of a culture that trains, arms and pays impoverished youth to commit violence in political campaigns, creating a ready militia for terrorists to recruit when the election season ends….” 31 Some desperate politicians solicit and arm violent touts and criminally minded thugs to intimidate and crush their opponents/rivals aiding them to rig elections. But what happens immediately after the political campaigns and elections are over? “… igno- miniously abandoned after elections had been won and lost. Soon, these groups of thugs evolved into militias, harassing, intimidating and extort- ing money from common citizens … this criminality escalated as members of these private militias … sought local/international ‘deep pockets’ and began promoting new causes and agendas.” 32 This could also be traced as one of the reasons why the Nigerian government hesitates or even refuses entirely to fi ght terrorism seriously at its core because that would imply dismantling the political culture/institution/personalities that secured their election. Yet another issue giving vent to exploitable youths ready for Islamic fundamentalism and terrorist groups is the almajiri system —a deteriorated educational system, so to speak, peculiar to the hausa-fulani of Nigeria.

This unorganised ‘system’ is one of massive slavery, servitude and jihadist indoctrination of underage boys as young as 5 years old, carted away in lorry 86 C.V. IFEME

loads from their families. The ‘almajiri’ system institutionalizes street beg- ging by small children for money and food in order to support themselves and their Koranic teachers with whom they live and learn … there is nothing Islamic about the practice… it is purely a socially ‘approved’ system of child neglect, depravation and abuse. 33

Furthermore, another pathetic aspect of state failure in Nigeria and Côte d’Ivoire is the inability of the government to manage the diversity characteristic of the region with adequate legislations and their proper implementations. Nigeria is a federal republic modeled in theory after the USA but has been unable to check and balance the pros and cons of such an establishment. For instance, out of the 36 states in Nigeria, 12 states 34 practice Shari ’ a fully or in part alongside secular government law. But how can the Christians (even if they are of minority) be protected in these states that practice Shari ’ a ?

This poses a constitutional problem because the Nigerian constitution guarantees a secular state, guarantees freedom of religion, and vests in states concurrent power to establish their own court systems. At both constitutional and practical levels, these guarantees are incompatible in light of the fact that Islam rejects separation of political from religious authority and proposes a unifi ed theocratic system of governance. 35

Nigeria had also been registered since 1986 as a member of the “Organisation of Islamic Cooperation” (OIC), presumably, without due constitutional process, during the military dictatorship 36 making it possible to perceive Nigeria as an “Islamic country.” Again,

following the adoption of the shari’a criminal code by Zamfara State in October 1999, northern Muslim political and religious leaders established the Supreme Council for Sharia in Nigeria (SCSN), an organisation designed to promote adoption of shari’a in other Nigerian states. Christian groups in the southern half of the country and in the Middle Belt reacted sharply to what they perceived as a Muslim, northern effort to lay the foundations for an Islamic, theocratic state. 37

These contradictions and ambiguities in the Nigerian constitution and their applications have far-reaching social and political implications for the stability and instability of the country, increasing mutual suspicions DIAGNOSING THE POLITICS OF CHRISTIAN-MUSLIM CONFLICTS IN THE WEST... 87 between Christians and Muslims ready to explode into violence at the easiest spark.

Ethnic Tension and Resource Control/Distribution The weak state capacity and the dehumanizing poverty common to this sub-region, most times, compel people to revert to the primordial inclina- tion of their ethnic and religious backgrounds which would supersede the already non-existent or eroding sense of national identity, thereby creating intense power struggles over political and resource control; mutual suspicion and violent tensions toward the “other.” Coincidentally, the demographic fi gures of these countries demonstrate large divides of ethnicity going hand in hand, most times, with religious affi liations. Broadly speaking, in Côte d’Ivoire as well as in Nigeria, there are Muslim majorities in the northern ethnic segments and the Christian/animist majority in the south. But in Nigeria, there is also a tri- polar distinction/framework related to the three colonial regions before the amalgamation of Nigeria into a single political entity that consists of the majority groups of Hausa, Igbo, and Yoruba tribes that dominated these regions. Somehow, ethno-regional-politico-religious identities have developed along this axis in Nigeria with other complex-minority groups. These identities have also yielded to an evident multi-polarity characterized by micro-nationalism. The mismanagement of this factor had been determinant in the origin and diffusion of confl icts in this sub-region. We note that it is not ethnicity per se that causes confl icts but its politicization and manipulations. People do not kill or fi ght others because of their mere ethnic differences, but when these differences are promoted as the barrier to advancement and opportunity, and/or are perceived as threat toward the domination or the exclusion of/by the “other.” “Ethnic thinking and mobilisation generally emerge from resulting inequitable access to power and resources and not from an intrinsic hatred.” 38 The problem in the Niger Delta of Nigeria, for instance, cannot be ignored once the issue of resource control and regional confl icts are raised. The struggle for resource control by groups and communities in the oil- producing areas in the Niger Delta became prominent in the early 1990s, mostly due to the efforts and activism of Ken Saro-Wiwa (1941–1995), and the “Movement for the Survival of the Ogoni People” (MOSOP)— initially a non-violent campaign—demanding participation in the politics of the oil revenues and greater attention by multi-national petroleum com- 88 C.V. IFEME panies exploiting the area and leaving behind polluted and environmen- tally degraded impoverished inhabitants. There was then the formation of “Ijaw Youth Council” (IYC). Since then however, many other violent and non-violent groups have also emerged demanding greater participation or sole control of the petroleum resources of the Niger Delta. Many of these groups like “Movement for the Emancipation of the Niger Delta” (MEND), “Niger Delta People’s Volunteer Force” (NDPVF), “Niger Delta Liberation Front” (NDLF), “Niger Delta Vigilante” (NDV), and “Joint Revolutionary Council” (JRC) have long developed into complex militarization and armed militia groups against the multi-national petroleum corporations and the Nigerian government with sometimes not-very-easy-to-defi ne objectives or internal coordination of their modus operandi . Some of these groups are very loose coalitions whose interests do not end with petroleum-related resource control or other political agenda but also pose to represent sectional struggles sometimes including religious dimensions. Recently, it is alleged that MEND through one of their leaders, Jomo Gbomo, threatened to unleash retaliatory attacks in the form of crusades against the northern Nigerian Islamic fundamentalists called Boko Haram . 39 In the same manner, the confl icts/inter-communal clashes in the volatile “middle belt” of Nigeria, especially around Jos, have their roots also in the question of indigene rights over resource control, land use, electoral competition, fears of religious domination, and strife between the Muslim Hausa-Fulani population and other ethnic groups—Berom (or Burom), Anaguta, and Afi zere of mostly Christian denominations. This situation in Jos is emblematic of other major Nigerian cities, especially in the north where “indigenisation law” had already been implemented in the late 1950s intended to replace the large chunk of Southern candidates with Northern indigenes in the civil service and corporations of the then Northern region. 40 As already noted, the issue of citizenship and “indigeneity” is one of those contradictions in the Nigerian constitution that causes, or at least, ferments confl icts among Nigerians in this politics of exclusion and resource control. 41 The political and civil crisis in Côte d’Ivoire is also connected to North (Muslim)-South (Christian) divide over resource control, allegations of discriminations, and politics of exclusion. Some people from the northern Muslim population criticized the neo-colonial profi le government of Houphouët-Boigny as being more favorable to the Christian south (especially the Baoule ethnic group of which he is a member). A glar- DIAGNOSING THE POLITICS OF CHRISTIAN-MUSLIM CONFLICTS IN THE WEST... 89 ing evidence often cited is his construction of 300-million-dollar worth of Basilique Notre-Dame de la Paix in Yamoussoukro. 42 Yamoussoukro is Félix Houphouët-Boigny’s native home, in the Christian south, which he also chose as the new capital city. However, Houphouët-Boigny had always claimed it was built from his own personal wealth, but this is disputable, especially in Africa where there is usually no clear distinction between the country’s wealth and the leaders’ personal fortune. Furthermore, Henri Konan Bedie, previously the minister of fi nance and a member of the Baoule ethnic group, assumed power after Houphouët-Boigny’s death. Mr. Bedie was seen as Houphouët-Boigny’s handpicked successor. 43 Bedie had also been accused of perpetrating the same ethnic politics, favoring and empowering the so-called people of Ivorité extraction of south Christian majority to the exclusion of the so-called people of étrangères or Nordiste of Muslim majority. It was alleged that “Bedie’s increasingly xenophobic ways became unpopular with a large segment of the Ivorien population … Bedie eventually took steps to remove Muslims and Nordiste from position in the government.” 44 Laurent Gbagbo was also accused of “southern favouritism” at the expense of the Northerners, especially through the enforcement of identity cards and the unjust treatments of the Nordiste . All these, among other factors, were considered preludes to the 2002 “First Ivorian Civil War” and the later explosion of the political strife of the 2011 “Second Ivorian Civil War.”

Socio-Cultural-Religious Clash and Confl ict Another question at the root of the (religious) confl ict in this sub-region and in Africa in general is how to maintain the traditional African values (devotion and moral conservatism, for instance) in the fast-changing and globalized world. How could the African properly enculturate the “new faiths” of Christianity, Islam, or whatever non-indigenous African religions that have come in contact with the African culture? The meeting of these religions in the African has created a “socio-cultural-religious confl ict” in the present-day Africa(n). The importance of religion in this region is enormous. 93 % of the peoples interviewed in Pew Forum Research (2010) in Mali maintained that religion is of great importance in their lives and 87 % of those interviewed in Nigeria are of the same conviction. The report confi rms that Africans are devout and morally conservative; they are deeply committed to Islam or Christianity and yet continue to practice elements of traditional African 90 C.V. IFEME religions. There is a form of religious syncretism common to the modern- day Africans of this region. Many sub-Saharan Africans support democracy and say it is a good thing that people from other religions are able to practice their faith freely. Yet they also favor making the Bible or Shari ’a the offi cial law of the land. While both Muslims and Christians recognize positive attributes in one another, tensions lie close to the surface. 45 This survey presents apparent paradoxes (even contradictions) on how the Africans see religion alongside modern civil society. These contrasts are not just about the impact of non-indigenous religions on the African mentality but also about the impact of the whole of Western culture, so to speak, on the African world. For example, while majority of Africans blame the Western infl uence imbibed from the television, music, movies, and the pop culture as having negative infl uence on the African traditional values, the same majority enjoy Western music and entertainment all the same. 46 The Boko Haram phenomenon ravaging especially the northern states of Nigeria could literally translate as “Western education is bad/evil/sacrilege.” It is not very clear whether this group aims at the Islamization of the whole of Nigeria in a new form of radical Muslim Ummah (ummat or at overthrowing the Nigerian government (ﺍﻷﻣﺔ ﺍﻹﺳﻼﻣﻴﺔ— al-Islamiyah and obliterating whatever is Western-oriented in the system. They claim to abhor everything Western and modern, perceiving in them the source of evil and moral decadence of the society. Yet they employ and use Western ammunitions in their violent agitations. They have even been accused of containing in themselves the seeds of the same evil, immorality, and hypocrisy they claim to be combating like drug use, abduction, enslaving, and raping of women and children. 47 This complicated reception or/and confrontation of the Western culture and/with non-indigenous African religion and culture in the African worldview had made the overall cohesiveness of this impact quite problematic and had contributed to the socio-cultural-religious confl ict in the individual African that has necessarily reverberated in the public sphere in the form of superfi ciality, hypocrisy, religious bigotry, and fundamentalism. DIAGNOSING THE POLITICS OF CHRISTIAN-MUSLIM CONFLICTS IN THE WEST... 91

Ignorance of History and Inability to Learn from and Heal the Past Apart from the general poor level of formal education in the sub-region, often it appears that African countries in particular shy away from confronting their past or at least fail to address properly the issues (especially the negative aspects) of their history so as to learn, heal the wounds, and construct positively for their future. We suggest the needs for commemorations and the healing of their wounded pasts. Personally, I grew up and had my basic education in Nigeria till the fi rst degree. But it was only recently that I was able to properly examine and analyse the circumstances around the Nigerian-Biafran civil war. I was disappointed that such a signifi cant and decisive moment in the history of my country does not form an explicit basic and compulsory curriculum of studies in the Nigerian educational system. There is a general sensa- tion that it is even forbidden to discuss publicly the horrors of that dark moment in the history of the post-independent Nigeria in the quest for her true identity. We prefer to sweep everything concerning the incident under the carpet and preferably not allowing our children to know about them. But how would Nigerians know what happened in the past in order to avoid such horrors and atrocities in the future and construct positively and possibly for a Nigerian nation and/or for a better Nigeria? Till today, it does not seem there is a day of national commemoration for the victims of the Nigerian-Biafran civil war. There are no national monuments dedicated to the victims nor were proper compensations made for those who suffered unquantifi able loses, both in human and material resources, during that war. Instead, there are still grudges and animosities from one part of the country toward the others over how they were treated or “assimilated” back into the country at the end of the war that was formally declared “no victor, no vanquished.” 48 One would then ask: is this the way toward reconciliation and national healing after a horrible war? Digging further into this Nigerian-Biafran war issue, no one had been tried or held responsible for the various atrocities committed or over some policies implemented during the war that were against fundamental human rights, like the issue of using starvation as an instrument of war, the question of genocide, and so on. In recent years, Côte d’Ivoire and Nigeria had experienced several confl icts both social and political, even terrorist attacks by some radical 92 C.V. IFEME

Muslim elements where the majority of the victims are Christians. Many lives and properties had been lost. Many citizens had been displaced. The governments of both countries have not made any or proper compensations to the victims, families, or organizations that suffered these loses. In the sites of these atrocities, there are no signs or monuments for the present and future generations to even remember what took place so as to refl ect, heal, and construct to avoid their recurrences in future. This “conscious” neglect of history 49 contributes to the repetition of the same errors especially with regard to the social and political instability of this region.

Effect of the War on Terrorism—The Shift of Islamic Jihadists and Extremists to the More Vulnerable Habitats The USA and their European allies’ intervention and the present framing of the “War on Terrorism” had given rise yet to a new phase in the random confl icts between Christians and Muslims in this sub-region. Given the weak state capacities and the vast uncontrolled nature of the Sahel region, the weakened Islamic jihadists and extremists of the Middle East and the eastern Africa appear to be shifting to the more vulnerable habitats of the Maghreb and the sub-Saharan Africa as their safe haven. Valentina Soria in the article “Global Jihadist Sustained through Africa” (UK Terrorism Analysis , no. 2, April 2012) 50 shows that Africa represents a fertile ground for a diminished ‘Al-Qa’ida-core’ to re-group, re-energize, and re-launch its mission of global jihad. The study analyzed the recent attacks in Nigeria, coupled with ongoing insurgency in Somalia and current turmoil in Mali, underlining that the jihadists’ challenge may be migrating to Somalia, Kenya, Northern Nigeria, and the borderlands of some the vast territories of West Africa. The key fi ndings show that 51

• As the central leadership of Al-Qa’ida is weakened and challenged, the terrorist movement is looking to partnerships in Saharan and Sub-Saharan Africa to re-group and re-energize itself. • Despite greater cooperation, there seems to be an unresolved tension between transnational aims of Al-Qa’ida-core and the local grievances of African partners. • Following the alliance with Al-Qa’ida-core, regional affi liates such as Al-Qa’ida in the Maghreb and Al-Shabaab have undergone simi- DIAGNOSING THE POLITICS OF CHRISTIAN-MUSLIM CONFLICTS IN THE WEST... 93

lar patterns of strategic, tactical, and propagandistic evolution. The group appears to be adopting a strategy of “going native,” which implies seizing upon and exploiting local grievances with the ultimate aim of securing a stable foothold in volatile countries. • Nigeria’s Boko Haram is still focused on a local campaign, but recent operational refi nement and ability to stage deadly “spectaculars” suggests disturbing connections with other regional terror groups. • Links between Al-Qa’ida-core and some jihadist groups in Africa have been established over the last decade which vary in strategic and operational signifi cance. • A range of new challenges are possible as jihadism evolves and dis- perses into territories of ungoverned space across large stretches of the African continent. Among these are the potential for radicalization and mobilization of a new subset of British youth in the UK. The brutal slaughtering of the British soldier Drummer Lee Rigby 52 by two British youths on May 22, 2013, the numerous ISIS- related terrorist attacks in several European cities, and the so-called Foreign Fighters among the ISIS are confi rmations.

CONCLUDING STATEMENTS We conclude by reiterating that the so-called religious confl icts in this region are not always and solely occasioned by strictly religious motives. But that these random confl icts could have deeper roots in the economic, social, political, and cultural forces (or/and are at least exacerbated by them) characteristic of this region especially regarding their colonial and post-colonial histories combined with some internal and external factors without underestimating the odious phenomenon of religious fundamentalism, and, in this case, mostly (armed) Islamic fundamentalism. The question of inhuman poverty, gross underdevelopment, and the failure of the state authorities of this sub-region to contain or adequately manage the situation also remain very strong causalities. More so, attention should be paid not to exploit religion for political motives or to use politics for religious aims. This is because as seen in this sub-region “religion, misused for political purposes, makes a combustible mixture that distorts religion’s core values and leads to mass destruction.” 53 It is pertinent to note that religion, in general, is not just a spiritual but also a social and cultural capital for humanity. This precious resource 94 C.V. IFEME should not be carelessly squandered. Every religion in principle strives fundamentally for the salvation of man. This is because humanity’s present state is not saved. The un-salvaged human condition is evident from the daily human experience of sin, suffering, anguish, and lack of satisfaction. Islam and Christianity, like every other religion, in the core of their salvifi c message call for the healing of the wounded and broken humanity in the experience of sickness, slavery, hunger, war, confl ict, and so on. This religious promise and hope for salvation are also concretely connected to the question of human freedom hic et nunc . Salvation is a gift intended as the freedom to love. That is why every religion condemns sin. Because sin is the incapacity to love, the incapacity to be free and make free. Hence, any religion that deprives man of his freedom is already in contradiction with its ultimate aim, message, and promise. If Christianity and Islam (or any other religion) are ready to make man free and fi nally save him, especially in this African sub-region, then the odious phenomenon of religious fundamentalism/armed confl ict should be considered an antithesis of religion.

NOTES 1. Cf. Marianne Rǿed Orji, “Nigerian Politics of Unity: A case study of the dynamic of religion, politics and identity in Nigeria” (Masters diss., Det Teologiske Menighetsfakultet, Oslo 2012). The author attempted to address how various Nigerian political actors’ attitudes rather than actions toward both religious and ethnic identities contribute to the dynamic of religion, politics, and ethnicity in terms of strengthening or weakening tensions related to ethnocentrism and how these attitudes could affect social stability/instability. These political actors play and exploit the “politics” or rather the “rhetoric of (Nigerian) unity” solely for their political convenience while at the same time and/or at other times drawing on the ethnic and religious divisions for their same political benefi ts. 2. Cf. Seth Kaplan, “Côte d’Ivoire’s Ethnic, Religious, and Geographical Divisions,” Fragile States , accessed November 13, 2014, http:// www.fragilestates.org/2012/06/06/cote-divoire-ethnic-division/ . 3. Cf. “Tolerance and Tension: Islam and Christianity in Sub-Saharan Africa,” Pew Forum Research on Religion & Public Life , April 2010, preface i, accessed May 9, 2013, http://www.pewforum.org/upload- DIAGNOSING THE POLITICS OF CHRISTIAN-MUSLIM CONFLICTS IN THE WEST... 95

edFiles/Topics/Belief_and_Practices/sub-saharan-africa-full-report. pdf . 4. Ibid., 3. 5. Ibid. 6. Cf. Dixon (2009); Hegre/Sambanis (2006); Fearon/Laiton (2003); Collier/Sambanis (2005); Elbadawi/Sambanis (2000) as studied in Matthias Basedau-Johannes Vüllers, “Religion and Armed Confl ict in Sub-Saharan Africa, 1990–2008—Results from a New Database.” Paper prepared for presentation at the Standing Group on International Relation (SGIR), 7th Pan-European Conference on IR, Stockholm, 9–11 September 2010, German Institute of Global and Area Studies, Neuer Jungfernstieg, Hamburg, Germany, accessed July 13, 2013, http://stockholm.sgir.eu/uploads/Basedau-Vuellers_Religion- Confl ict-Africa_100819.pdf . Based on systematic description and multiple (logit) regressions, the authors tried to demonstrate among other things that religion indeed plays a signifi cant role in African armed confl icts and that (religious) armed confl ict is more likely when ethnic and religious identities run parallel and religious demography change occurs. In some countries in Africa, while religion apparently plays an important role, quantitative research on confl ict has failed to fi nd evidence for a signifi cant causal infl uence of religious factors in Africa and elsewhere. Instead, natural resources, weak state capacity, and socio-economic problems appear to be among the most important robustly variables. 7. Cf. Seth Kaplan, “Côte d’Ivoire’s Ethnic, Religious, and Geographical Divisions.” 8. Without engaging in the terminological controversies around the term “nation-state,” we simply refer here to a political and geopolitical entity combined with a spiritual, cultural, and/or ethnic identity that self-identifi es as deriving its political legitimacy from serving as a sovereign entity and sovereign territorial unit. It could be multi-racial, multi-ethnic, but there must be a unifying “national identity” with strong spiritual bond and shared common goal. 9. Cf. Seth Kaplan, “Côte d’Ivoire’s Ethnic, Religious, and Geographical Divisions.” 10. Chinua Achebe, There Was a Country : A Personal History of Biafra (New York: Penguin, 2012), 1. 11. Ibid., 1–2. 96 C.V. IFEME

12. See: Frederick J. D. Lugard, The Dual Mandate in British Tropical Africa (UK: W. Blackwood and Sons, 1923). 13. Georgette Bennet, “Interfaith Peace in the Face of Christian- Muslim Confl ict,” Huffi ngton Post , March 1, 2012, accessed July 23, 2013, http://www.huffi ngtonpost.com/georgette-bennett-phd/ an-example-of-interfaith-_b_1175107.html . 14. Chinua Achebe elaborated more on the mutual suspicion and the eventual ethnic tensions associated with such a suspicion and, above all, the lethal consequences it had/has for the Nigerian society especially from the Igbo-man’s point of view in his There Was a Country : A Personal History of Biafra , 74–78. Like in his earlier work: The Trouble with Nigeria (South Africa: Heinemann, 1984), re-published as An Image of Africa : Racism in Conrad ’ s Heart of Darkness & the Trouble with Nigeria , (London: Penguin, 2010), Achebe dwelt on the common national resentment of the Igbo in Nigeria that led to “The Pogroms” of 1966, the Nigerian-Biafran War (1967–1970), and the eventual decadence of the Nigerian civil society structure with the pathetic and bizarre government strategy in transforming the federal civil service, corporations, and universities into centers for ethnic bigotry and petty squabble. In the colonial and post-colonial Nigeria, Achebe opines that the Igbos appeared to be naturally and culturally more advantaged than others. 15. “The denial of merit is a form of social injustice that can hurt not only the individuals directly concerned but ultimately the entire society. The motive for the original denial may be tribal discrimination, but it may also come from sexism, from political, religious, or some other partisan consideration, or from corruption and bribery … whenever merit is set aside by prejudice of whatever origin, individual citizens as well as the nation itself are victimized.” Chinua Achebe, There Was a Country : A Personal History of Biafra , 78. Idem, “The Trouble with Nigeria” in An Image of Africa , 40. 16. Cf. Anthony Asiwaju, “Migrations as Revolt: The example of Ivory Coast and the Upper Volta before 1945,” The Journal of African History , 17 (1976:4): 578. 17. Michael Birminghan, “Ivory Coast: From West African Miracle to Ethnic Confl ict,” Khamasin , 01 (2008:1 May): 30. 18. Tom Ogwang, “The Root Causes of the Confl ict in Ivory Coast,” Africa Portal , 5, April 2011, accessed September 7, 2015, https://www. africaportal.org/dspace/articles/root-causes-confl ict-ivory-coast . DIAGNOSING THE POLITICS OF CHRISTIAN-MUSLIM CONFLICTS IN THE WEST... 97

19. Cf. Martin W. Lewis, “Ethnic dimensions of the Confl icts in Ivory Coast,” GeoCurrents , April 28, 2011, accessed July 18, 2013, http://geocurrents. info/geopolitics/ethnic-dimensions-of-the-confl ict-in-ivory-coast . 20. Matthew Kirwin, “The Security Dilemma and Confl ict in Cote d’Ivoire,” Nordic Journal of African Studies , 15 (2006:1): 44. 21. Nakama Popoh, “Côte d’Ivoire: From Colonialism to Cronyism,” Ceasefi re , February 23, 2011, accessed August 20, 2014, https:// ceasefi remagazine.co.uk/report-cote-ivoire/ . 22. Ibid. 23. Ibid. 24. See: Chinua Achebe, There Was a Country : A Personal History of Biafra , 99–105. 25. Cf. WND, “Muslims to Christians: ‘We Are Coming for You’,” http://www.wnd.com/2011/05/301389/ , accessed November 13, 2014. 26. Formally “Failed States Index.” Cf. The Fund for Peace , accessed September 7, 2015, http://fsi.fundforpeace.org /. 27. HDI, Human Development Index is a composite statistic of life expectancy, education, decent standard of living, and indices to rank countries into four tiers of human development—Very high, High, Medium, and Low. 28. Richard A. Joseph, director of “The Program of African Studies” at Northwestern University, Illinois, is credited with fi rst using the term to describe patron-client or neopatrimonialism in Nigeria, describing the sense of entitlement that many people in Nigeria feel or rather are convinced they have to the revenues of the Nigerian State. Elected offi cials, government workers, and members of the ethnic and religious groups to which they belong feel they have a right to share of government or the country’s revenues. In a typical Nigerian par- lance, it is also referred to as “sharing the national cake” or being a “stake-holder.” 29. C.f. Michael Birminghan, “Ivory Coast: From West African Miracle to Ethnic Confl ict.” 30. Cf. Diana Chandler, “Nigerian Islamic Terrorism Transcends Religion,” Baptist Press , July 3, 2013, accessed, July 4, 2013, http:// www.bpnews.net/BPnews.asp?ID=40677 . 31. Ibid. 32. Ibid. 33. Ibid. 98 C.V. IFEME

34. As of 2012, the following nine states have instituted Sharia: Zamfara, Kano, Sokoto, Katsina, Bauchi, Borno, Jigawa, Kebbi, Yobe; and the following three states have also instituted Sharia in some parts with large Muslim populations: Kaduna, Niger, and Gombe states. 35. GlobalSecurity.org . “Nigeria Christian/Muslim Confl ict,” accessed July 16, 2013, http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/world/war/ nigeria-1.htm . 36. See: http://www.oic-oci.org/oicv2/states/ , accessed July 17, 2013. Also: Nnanna Ochereome, “Minister Nurudeen’s ‘Islamic Republic of Nigeria’,” Vanguard Newspaper , August 30, 2012, accessed July 17, 2013, http://www.vanguardngr.com/2012/08/ minister-nurudeens-islamic-republic-of-nigeria/ . 37. GlobalSecurity.org . “Nigeria Christian/Muslim Confl ict.” 38. Clement M. Aapengnuo, “Misinterpreting Ethnic Confl icts in Africa,” Africa Security Brief , 4, NDU Press, April 2010, 2, accessed July 13, 2013, http://www.ndu.edu/press/lib/images/jfq-58/ JFQ58_13-17_Aapengnuo.pdf . 39. See: UPI.com , “Nigeria Christians Threaten Religious War,” April 23, 2013, accessed July 24, 2013, http://www.upi.com/Top_News/ Special/2013/04/23/Nigeria-Christians-threaten-religious-war/ UPI-73101366742735/ . 40. Cf. GlobalSecurity.org , “Nigeria Christian/Muslim Confl ict.” 41. See the observation of Ebonyi State House of Assembly Deputy Speaker, Bailse Oji in Godwin Aliuna, “Contradiction in Constitution Responsible for Nigeria’s Woes,” National Mirrow , April 30, 2013, accessed July 21, 2013, http://nationalmirroronline.net/new/ contradiction-in-constitution-responsible-for-nigerias-woes/ . Also: Femi Omotosho, “Indigeneity and Problems of Citizenship in Nigeria,” Pakistan Journal of Social Sciences , 7 (2010:2): 146–150. 42. Cf. Richard N.Ostling, “Religion: The Basilica in the Bush,” Time magazine, July 3, 1989, accessed July 15, 2013, http://www.time. com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,958078,00.html . 43. Matthew Kirwin, “The Security Dilemma and Confl ict in Cote d’Ivoire,” Nordic Journal of African Studies , 6. 44. Ibid. 45. Cf. Pew Forum Research , “Tolerance and Tension: Islam and Christianity in Sub-Saharan Africa,” preface, iii. 46. Cf. Ibid., 3. DIAGNOSING THE POLITICS OF CHRISTIAN-MUSLIM CONFLICTS IN THE WEST... 99

47. Cf. Justice Okafor, “Boko Haram: Between immorality and Religious Bigotry,” Punch Newspaper , July 21, 2013, accessed July 21, 2013, http://www.punchng.com/opinion/ boko-haram-between-immorality-and-religious-bigotry/ . 48. Cf. Chinua Achebe, There Was a Country : A Personal History of Biafra , 234; IDEM , “The Trouble with Nigeria,” in An Image of Africa , 65–66. 49. “For Nigerians, amnesia (or even willed forgetfulness) is a hope, a shield, a panacea and a disease all rolled into one…. Nigerians are on the whole, allergic to memory, hostile to the human enterprise of remembering. The price of this allergy is of course that … we no longer know when the rain began to beat us. That gap, I suggest, accounts for a great deal of national inertia, our incapacity to do anything to shield ourselves from the buffeting storms.” Okey Ndibe, “The Country of Laughter and Forgetting,” Sahara Reporters , July 1, 2013, accessed July 3, 2013, http://saharareporters.com/column/ country-laughter-and-forgetting-okey-ndibe . 50. Produced by RUSI—The Royal United Services Institute is the award-winning defense and security think tank that maintains a database of terrorist events. It publishes a series of online briefi ngs ( UK Terrorism Analysis ) aimed at offering assessments of the threats we face and the policy options before us. Accessed May 8, 2013, http:// www.rusi.org/downloads/assets/UKTA2.pdf . 51. The fi ndings of the author are reported in the foregoing. See: Valentina Soria, “Global Jihadists Sustained through Africa,” UK Terrorism Analysis . 52. See: “Soldier Murdered in Woolwich Named Drummer Lee Rigby,” The Telegraph , May 23, 2013, accessed July 16, 2013, http://www. telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/terrorism-in-the-uk/10076791/ Soldier-murdered-in-Woolwich-named-as-Drummer-Lee-Rigby. html . 53. Georgette Bennet, “Interfaith Peace in the Face of Christian-Muslim Confl ict.” CHAPTER 5

Islamic Extremism in West Africa: A Historical and Theological Analysis of the Crisis of Religious Brigandage in Islam

Ikenna Okafor

INTRODUCTION Vicious spectacles of terror—beheadings, crucifi xions, lynching, abduc- tions and enslavement of women or school girls, suicide bombings, and so on—have led many, non-Muslims and Muslims alike, to acknowledge that Islamic extremism is the greatest enemy of peace and security in the world today. The more the shock value of their dastardly acts, the more savory they seem to be for the extremists in their desire to garner infa- mous publicity. The unprecedented ethical disgust, which these acts have elicited globally, does not deter the perpetrators and their sponsors, who deride the anxiety of a world that seems helpless about how to stop them. In its statement on 22 April 2015, the Pontifi cal Council for Interreligious Dialogue acknowledges that the acts of terror to which they proudly claim responsibility cause many to ask: “Is there still space for dialogue with

I. Okafor ( ) University of Vienna, Vienna, Austria

Muslims?” 1 After the shock of 9/11 and as Nigeria, Kenya, Paris, Beirut, Pakistan, Afghanistan, and India are painted in blood; as Israel and Europe sleep with eyes open in anxiety of jihadist attacks, this question remains inevitable. The answer is, of course, yes we can dialogue with Muslims, but a lot of work needs to be done internally by peaceful Muslims to ensure a fruitful dialogue that eschews violence. Pope Francis’ words at the Catholic University of Tirana, Albania, were unequivocal on this: “All those forms which present a distorted use of religion must be fi rmly refuted as false since they are unworthy of God or humanity. Authentic religion is a source of peace and not of violence! No one must use the name of God to commit violence! To kill in the name of God is a grave sacrilege. To discriminate in the name of God is inhuman.” 2 The extremists’ frequent association of violence with the name of God and religion and the portrayal of themselves as “soldiers of God” with a divine mission is perturbing. Nevertheless, it is signifi cant for a reading of the phenomenon from a theological perspective. Their preposterous “jihad” with its puritan goal of eradicating perceived impieties of non-Muslims and pacifi st Muslims; their penchant for brutality; their disdain for human life; and their lack of human feeling for the innocent victims of their brazen ire have indeed made the extremists one of the most urgent problems of the human society today. Spread across the globe in clusters of well-armed militant groups in countries where they have found havens, stopping these “foot-soldiers of Allah” has inevitably turned into a global conventional warfare that could validly be referred to as the Third World War . 3 The increasing infl uence, power, and boldness of the zealots in Africa have provoked numerous debates bordering on politics and state-building, poverty and economic justice, education and cultural emancipation, secularization, and religious intolerance. In most of those debates blames are often placed on poverty, lack of leadership, corruption, systemic dysfunc- tion, religious fanaticism, and the deterioration of urban sub-culture as the causes of disruption in the society. Looking at Africa precisely, one can say that the history of Islamic religious presence in West Africa, especially in Nigeria, offers some valuable clues into the empirical world of Islamic extremism and thus constitutes a veritable tool for analyzing that world. Africa is home to such extremist groups like al-Shabab in Somalia, Ansar Dine in Mali, and Boko Haram in Nigeria, all of which derive inspiration from doctrinal positions that empower their acts of terrorism. It holds true, therefore, that Africa is also a place where some of the plausible answers to Islamic extremism could be found. Elsewhere, 4 I have dealt ISLAMIC EXTREMISM IN WEST AFRICA: A HISTORICAL AND THEOLOGICAL... 103 with this subject, arguing that religious fundamentalism is the underlying factor to the problem. In line with my earlier argument, albeit without undermining the socio-economic, political, and ethnic variables, which also impact on the problem, I hold that the most effective and long-term solution to religious extremism will be theological. One of the most sober and renowned Islamic scholars, Mahmoud Ayoub, observed that the history of Muslim–Christian relations in the world “has largely been a story of mistrust, misgivings, and misunderstandings.” 5 The factors that give rise to such mistrusts, misgivings, and misunderstandings are undoubtedly so convoluted and hydra-headed that it requires a multipronged approach in dealing with them. My essay focuses on the historical dynamics of religious fundamentalism and its infl uence on radical Islam. It analyzes by using some archetypical cases of religiously motivated violence, especially in Nigeria, and underscores the necessity of a combined political and theological approach to terror and the role of the state in curbing extremism in Islam.

CAUSAL RELATIONSHIP OF RADICALISM AND ISLAMIC FUNDAMENTALISM: A HISTORICAL ANALYSIS We can be certain that the Islamists do not speak for the Islamic religion. They speak for themselves alone. However, their claims to religious motivations and their frequent use of religion as a tool for propaganda and intimidation cannot be dismissed as non sequitor . On 17 February 2009, for instance, some media reports revealed how a recaptured al-Qaida fi eld commander, Abu al-Hareth Muhammad al-Oufi (Saudi ex-Guantanamo Bay detainee), railed against the Saudi rehabilitation program, saying it aims “to drive us away from our Islam.” 6 Such identifi cation of Islam with militancy is one of the principal reasons why every attempt to understand and deal with global terrorism should not ignore its intricate connection with religion and the importance of a theological approach in curbing its extremist ideology. While military responses can be effective in stopping radical extremists in the short term, the truth remains that we cannot destroy a dangerous ideology by bombing it. Since Islamic extremism is anchored on the ideology of a return to the roots of religious piety, its appeal on young people could be displaced only by an alternative offer (grounded in the scriptures) of a new sense of purpose and meaning in life. Hence, a new hermeneutic for reading sacred texts will be necessary in guiding young people in search of a moral compass to navigate this 104 I. OKAFOR world of institutionalized injustice and human hubris—a hermeneutic that offers the youth a balanced spiritual and socio-cultural orientation. Such a hermeneutic must see in the interpretation of sacred scriptures today a necessary therapy to violent jihadism and an imperative to edify and enrich religious and cultural pedagogy; promote justice, love, peace and development; and foster a global ethics of inclusion. The atrocious acts with which Islamists brag about their mission make attention to such a therapy very urgent. Such questions, like what it means to be truly human and still be a pious believer in God, according to the scriptures, need to be understood in the light of a modern exegesis, which rejects anachronistic interpretations that reinforce exclusivism and celebrates patripotency and a culture of violence against religious minorities. Observations have shown that incendiary sermons 7 that extol Islamic fundamentalism 8 as the ideal form of religious piety are often responsible for a culture of violence in Islam. In fact, if there is anything more dangerous than arms, it is the preachers of violence. These preachers and their followers believe that authentic Islamic spirituality must be characterized by a rigid fi delity to the fundamentals, that is, the Quran and the prophetic Hadith, and that Muslims should always exercise absolute right everywhere, even in secular societies, to choose to be governed solely by Islamic laws. Fundamentalist preachers and their disciples strongly hold the view that the problems of the world stem from modern infl uences. Hence, they insist that the path to salvation lies in an unquestionable return to the original message of the faith coupled with a scrupulous rejection of all foreign traditions and innovation which they term Bid ’ ah . In recent times some scholars have sought to explain Islamic radicalism as an aggressive response to what they call “Islamophobia. ” 9 By this they mean a sort of xenophobic attitudes which Muslims suffer in Western countries as a result of being perceived as posing a cultural threat. 10 In the African context this assumption is quite spurious and misleading because such “Islamophobia” is practically non-existent. Nevertheless, it is believed that “ever since the introduction of Islam and Christianity to the region that became modern Nigeria, there has been tension over interpretations of doctrine, the relationship between religion and state, and the use of religious issues for political gain.” 11 This intertwining of politics and religion has its origin in the quest for Arab Islamic hegemony in Africa which dates back to the period of the Ottoman conquest of Egypt in 1517. In the period between 1500 and 1800 the pattern was woven for Muslims’ perception of and radical relation with non-Muslims in West ISLAMIC EXTREMISM IN WEST AFRICA: A HISTORICAL AND THEOLOGICAL... 105

Africa. Historians believe that this period was probably one of the most revolutionary in the history of the peoples of the Lower Guinea coast living in the area between Cote d’Ivoire and Benin republic, or between the Bandama and the Mono Rivers. 12 Such infl uential and wealthy kings, like Mansa Kankan Musa (died 1337), who ruled Mali from 1312 to 1337, and Askia al-Muhammad (ca. 1442–1538), king of Songhai, who solidifi ed the Songhai empire from 1464 to 1492, helped establish Islam in West Africa. After a long period of the spread of Islam through teaching and preaching, the region witnessed in the nineteenth century a revolutionary wind of jihad, which swept away the authority of local rulers and established Islamic theocracies known as the Sokoto Caliphate in Northern Nigeria, the Hamdallahi Caliphate in Massina, and the Tijaniyya Caliphate in Senegambia and Massina. 13 Present-day phenomenon of Islamic fundamentalism in West African Sub- Region cannot be viewed in isolation from the jihadists’ movements of the nineteenth century which ravaged this region. The jihad created the largest empire in Africa since the fall of Songhai in 1591. The leaders of the jihad, the caliphs, Sheikh Usman dan Fodio, Sheikh Ahmad Lobbo (Seku Ahmadu), and al-Hadjdj ‘Umar, saw themselves as having each a special mission ordained by Allah and their jihad as the fulfi llment of prophecies by the Prophet Muhammad. They believed themselves to be executors of divine will, based on Muhammad’s prophecy that Allah would send a reformer to all true Muslim communities after every hundred years to purify and renew the religion. 14

CONTEMPORARY JIHAD: A CONTINUITY OR DISCONTINUITY? Before the interruption by the British colonial regime, the sworn goal of the nineteenth-century jihad’s sympathizers was to “dip the Quran in the sea”—a euphemism for the Muslim leaders’ resolve to extend the jihad from the savannah grasslands of the interior all the way down to the Atlantic coasts. 15 The sharp disparity between the success of Christian evangelization in the southern and northern regions of the colonial state of Nigeria has been widely attributed to Muslim leaders’ opposition. 16 Christians believe that the fi rm determination and perceived obligation to a continued expansion of the Islamic territory by means of jihad has not waned in Northern Nigeria today and is, in fact, one of the sources of motivation to radicalization in Islam in West Africa. The nature of the 106 I. OKAFOR

Islamic expansion in West Africa through jihad has also infl uenced the opinion that political factors are chiefl y responsible for radicalization in Islam. However, there are reasons to believe that we are dealing with a situation in which strong religious biases infl uence political actions. The radical reformers were infl uenced by developments from within West Africa, such as corruption in the ranks of the local rulers, as much as they are also exposed to external infl uences. Political and religious developments in the Middle East, the birthplace of Islam, affected the entire Islamic world. One of such events was the capture of Mecca and Medina at the beginning of the nineteenth century by the Wahhabi extremists and the reaction of the Eastern brotherhoods to the conquest. Not only did the Wahhabi revolution encourage radicalism in the Islamic world, it also provoked a vigorous revival of religious brotherhoods. Many Islamic schools were founded throughout the caliphates, and the jihads resulted in the entrenchment of Islam and the two major religious brotherhoods—the Kadiriyya and the Tijaniyya. Usman dan Fodio’s jihad is known to have gained some impetus from the upsurge of these Eastern brotherhoods. 17 A belligerent push by the jihadists southward led eventually to the establishment of Ilorin/Nupe caliphate in Yoruba land. 18 The jihad was as instrumental in reorganizing the administration of justice as it was in re-establishing the supremacy of the Sharia. 19 In a Huffi ngton Post blog, Yousaf Butt, a senior advisor to the British American Security Information Council and director at the Cultural Intelligence Institute, also alleges a link between Saudi- sponsored Wahhabism and the recrudescence of violent jihadism today. 20 Such co-relation is not without signifi cance. In Nigeria, the legacy of Dan Fodio’s jihad endures today. Dan Fodio became a household name, and a Sokoto university bears his name. His famous writing, Wathiqah , or Wathiqat Ahl Sudan , which is seen as the jihad’s manifesto, exerted infl uence as far as the Caribbean, where it allegedly ignited the slave island-wide rebellion in Jamaica between December 1831 and January 1832. 21 Dan Fodio’s mentor, Jibril ibn ‘Umar, a North African Muslim religious scholar, who gave his apprentice a broader perspective of the Muslim reformist ideas in other parts of the Muslim world, once argued that it was the duty and within the power of religious movements to establish the ideal society free from oppression and vice. 22 Dan Fodio’s Wathiqah comprises of a list of injunctions aimed at educating his Muslim contemporaries on what is obligatory (Halal ) and what is prohibited ( Haram ). According to that manifesto, “… the status of a town is the status of its ruler: if he be Muslim, the town belongs to Islam; but if he be ISLAMIC EXTREMISM IN WEST AFRICA: A HISTORICAL AND THEOLOGICAL... 107 heathen the town is a town of heathendom from which Flight is obligatory. And to make war upon the heathen king who will not say ‘There is no God but Allah’ is obligatory [as is] to take the government from him.” 23 The late Boko Haram leader Mohammed Yusuf and his vanguards enlisted Boko , understood as Western education, as among the Harams (i.e., the forbidden) and mobilized young radicalized Muslims toward the execution of the injunctions of the Wathiqah. Presuming a tacit approval of the majority of Muslims, who were clamoring for Sharia and an Islamic State, the Boko Haram fi ghters were apparently hopeful that their attempt to revive the unfi nished jihad of Usman dan Fodio will surely win the popular support of many Nigerian Muslims. A sitting Christian (i.e., “infi del”) president, Goodluck Jonathan, hence provided for them enough incentive and rationalization for waging a war. Boko Haram, which has become a euphemism for the extremist group’s antipathy to Western civilization, summarizes a fundamentalist ideological reasoning, whose goal is to Islamize the Nigerian populace, enthrone the Sharia as supreme law, and obliterate from the society all Western cultural values, including formal education. Actually coming into existence since the early 1990s, the group metamorphosed under various titles, like “Al Sunna wal Jamma,” “Muhajirun,” “the Nigerian Taliban,” “the Yusufi yya Islamic Movement,” and “Ahlusunna wal’Jamma Hijra.” In 2002 the group called itself “Jama’atu Ahlus-Sunnah Lidda’Awati Wal Jihad” or “People Committed to the Prophet’s Teachings for Propagation and Jihad.” 24 This later title indicates ideas of the nineteenth-century jihadists’ philosophy, which still inspires many Muslims, peaceful and radical alike. Yusuf’s lack of education makes it onerous to com- pare his ideas with Dan Fodio’s. However, a fi ery zeal for a return to what they perceived as the fundamentals of the Islamic faith and a determination to achieve it by any means is a common source of their inspiration. Now, similar to the aftermath of the Wahhabi revolt, the events of 9/11 and the military response of the USA ignited a revival of violent jihadism which saw Muslim youths celebrating Osama bin Laden as a religious hero. The apparent vulnerability of the world’s superpower led radical Islamists to dream of the possibility of an Islamic hegemony that will dethrone and supersede the hegemony of the so-called free world. Likewise, Daesh’s initial success in Syria and Northern Iraq emboldened Islamists in Northern Nigeria and other parts of Africa to intensify their struggles against every establishment or persons that are opposed to their cause. Boko Haram began to copy Daesh’s strategy of making grisly videos and eventually pledged its allegiance offi cially to the Syrian ISIS’ caliphate. 108 I. OKAFOR

The ambition of the Islamists is sustained by the high esteem to which earlier jihadists are held in Islam. The allurement of a hero status leads to the temptation to pervert the concept of jihad in Islamic theology in favor of a selfi sh lust for power or justifi cation of hatred. The legacy of Dan Fodio’s jihad in Nigeria, which inspired a strong resistance movement among many Muslim elites (his disciples) against the leadership of British “infi dels,” 25 now became for a new generation of illiterate radicals an inspiration for antipathy against Western culture and secularism, and is characterized by the constant refrain of the Islamists’ vituperations— Boko Haram —that is, Western education is a sin, a taboo, and, hence, forbidden. Christians are often targeted by extremists as sympathizers or promoters of the “decadent” secularist culture which the West represent. Before the emergence of Boko Haram in recent time, however, there have always been in the region radical groups like Yan Tatsine and Yan Izala ; conservative groups like J ’ amatu Nasril Islam (JNI), Council of Ulamaa, and Muslim Students Society (MSS); and Muslim brotherhoods like Tijaniya and Kadiriya, all of whom are ready to use, or advocate the use of, violence against Christians and other non-Muslims whenever there is a disagreement. And Christians and Muslims surely disagree often on issues like the Sharia or reverence to the Quran and the prophet. This has led to series of violent confl icts in Nigeria, some of which I want to highlight as prototypes to extremist violence in general.

CASES OF RELIGIOUSLY MOTIVATED VIOLENCE IN ISLAM Nigeria’s history of religious confl icts validates the opinion that the Sharia, the Quran, and the Prophet—strong symbols of the Islamic identity—in fact, constitute the cannon fodder that frequently fuel the intractable confl icts that have cast a bloody shadow on the Islamic religion in West Africa in particular and the world in general. Doctrinal polemics breed antago- nistic attitudes and actions that repeatedly pull Christians and Muslims into the vortex of mutual resentments and exclusion. Mahmoud Ayoub has characterized such mutual exclusion as an offspring of the doctrine of “triumphal supersessionism and universal fi nality” which is present in both Islam and Christianity. 26 Incidentally, pillars of identity are also delineators of difference, and as such tend to be divisive and exclusivist. In such a mul- tiethnic, multicultural context that characterizes Nigeria’s socio-political landscape, religion reinforces ethnicity and, hence, shapes identities by creating sturdy group differences. ISLAMIC EXTREMISM IN WEST AFRICA: A HISTORICAL AND THEOLOGICAL... 109

The troubles in Nigeria in the 1980s and 1990s have encouraged the consolidation of such exclusive identities. 27 The resoluteness with which Muslims struggle to enthrone the Sharia as Supreme Law of the land, pursued often with scriptural justifi cations, is a notable example of how doctrinal bias is intricately connected to the politicization of Islam. Poor education and a lack of informed reading of the scriptures convolute to exacerbate the biases, thus breeding confl icts in Nigeria, sub-Saharan Africa, or other places with similar conditions. More than anything else, therefore, the fundamentals of the Islamic faith—the Quran, the Sharia, and the Prophet—hold the key to aggravating or mitigating extremist violence in Africa today.

CONFLICTS OVER THE SHARIA Majority of Muslims in Nigeria understand the Sharia as an eternal code of laws ordained by God for Muslims, which cannot be modifi ed simply to suit social change. A text widely used in Nigerian secondary schools sheds light on this belief and its application in the religious education of Muslim youths: “Since the Shari’ah is Allah’s way and Allah’s law, as revealed in the Quran and demonstrated by the Prophet,” the text reads, “it is the duty of every Muslim to follow the Shari’ah in his own behavior and in his dealings and relationships with other people.… The Shari’ah is the law for all Muslims to follow, not man-made laws that change with the fashions of the time. ” 28 During the debates among the Constituent Assembly members in 1978 about the role and place of the Sharia in the Nigerian jurisprudence, Muslims contended, with a theological argument citing the Quran (sura 5:47-48 and 5:50), that Allah will not condone Muslims’ toleration of any law other than al-Shari’a. 29 In a memoire published later, the Chairman of the Constituent Assembly, Justice A. N. Aniagolu, recalls that no other issue was “viewed with as much awe, or was as acrimoni- ous, or was as potentially dangerous, or was as emotionally charged, or was pursued with as much relentless fervor, or had the much capacity of destroying Nigeria” 30 as did the al-Shari’a question. Many violent protests demanding the Sharia law took place in 1979–1980, 1982, 1987, 1999, and 2000. During the protest marches in Zaria and other parts of the northern states, placards were displayed which carried such words as: No Sharia — No Peace ; No Sharia — No Constitution ; No Sharia — No Muslims ; No Sharia — No Nigeria . Anti-Sharia protests organized by Christians also took place and resulted in violent clashes with Muslims. 110 I. OKAFOR

CONFLICTS OVER THE QURAN Northern Nigeria is a place where inadvertently trampling on the Quran could cost one his or her life, as corroborated by a news headline in one of the Nigerian Dailies: “Mob Kills Driver in Kano for Trampling on Quran ….” ( Guardian Newspaper , Wednesday 12 December 2001). 31 This is one of many stories that unfortunately demonstrate how trivial and doctrinally linked the causes of most religious violence can be. When the Yan Tatsine sect was ravaging Kano in the 1980s, many people lost their lives to riots whose causes are traceable to trivial offences like inadvertently tearing the page of a Quran. One of such incidents led to the bloody Maitatsine riot of 1980, which took the army to eventually quell, and in which more than 6000 people lost their lives. The size of this Maitatsine riot and the brutality of its suppression not only inspired a number of studies about the Yan Tatsine group but also led the Nigerian Government to institute a Commission of Inquiry. The founder of the group, Mohammed Marwa, died in the riot but his disciples continued his teachings and were responsible for a number of other riots up to 1985. 32 Marwa, a controversial Islamic scholar, claimed to be a mujaddid , thus comparing himself to Sheikh Usman dan Fodio. Exiled by the British Authority, Marwa later came back from Cameroon after the Nigerian independence in 1960 and settled in Kano, where he eventually won popular recognition from Muslims after he had made the Hajj (pilgrimage to Mecca) in 1975. The Maitatsine story indicates that Boko Haram is only a resurrection of a phenomenon that has learnt how to recycle itself. Political and economic factors are surely not responsible for these violent cases. Therefore, the real challenge which Muslims and Islamic theology face is that of deploring a mentality that has absolutized a book to the extent that a case of inadvertent mishandling of such a book is met with capital punishment. This challenge is one of a religious pedagogy that is rooted in a rational theological criticism of the content of the Islamic faith and the place of that faith in the context of a global community of various faiths. Confronted with this challenge by Pope Benedict XVI on 12 September 2005 at Regensburg, almost the entire Muslim world ran amok—burning effi gies of the Pope, murdering innocent Christians, and torching many churches. The Pope was roundly condemned by many, including Christians. Lost in the orgy of violence was the signifi cance of the Regensburg lecture, which shattered the inconsequential niceties that had hitherto typifi ed ISLAMIC EXTREMISM IN WEST AFRICA: A HISTORICAL AND THEOLOGICAL... 111 most Christian-Muslim discussions. Through his frankness, Benedict indicated that such conversations could no longer avoid the more substantial, more diffi cult questions: namely, how Christianity and Islam understand God’s nature. Regensburg reminded us that it matters whether God is essentially Logos (Divine Reason) or Voluntas (Pure Will). And if Islam will be theologically enriched, it must seize the Kairos of the extremists’ barbaric irrationality and turn it into a moment of spiritual enlightenment for its numerous adherents, especially in regard to the interpretation of its scriptures and in authoring of doctrines to conform to the nature of God in a reasonable way.

CONFLICTS OVER THE PROPHET MUHAMMAD In November 2002 a fatwa was pronounced by the deputy governor of Zamfara State in Northern Nigeria, Mamuda Aliyu Shinkafi , demanding the execution of a young female journalist, Isioma Daniel. Shinkafi ’s statement read: “Like Salman Rushdie, the blood of Isioma Daniel can be shed. It is abiding on all Muslims wherever they are to consider the killing of the writer as a religious duty.” 33 Ms. Daniel was roundly condemned as the alleged pen-instigator of the violent riot that spread from Kaduna to Jos and Abuja claiming more than 200 lives within two days. It all started with a beauty pageant. Ms. Adani Gbarego, the then Nigerian “Miss World,” had expressed the wish to have her country host the event in 2002—an event that had nothing to do with the state as such. Some Muslims opposed the idea, a protestation which culminated in Isioma’s article in This Day newspaper of Tuesday, 12 November 2002. The article says: “As the idea [i.e., of hosting the pageant] became a reality, it also aroused dissent from many groups of people. The Muslims thought it was immoral to bring ninety-two women to Nigeria and ask them to revel in van- ity . What would Mohammed think ? In all honesty , he would probably have chosen a wife from one of them ….” ( This Day newspaper, Tuesday Nov. 12, 2002). Ms. Daniel was in fact trying to portray Muhammad as someone who was probably more progressively minded than most Nigerian Muslims who were opposing the pageant. Unfortunately, this reasoning was lost to angry Muslims and more than 200 innocent people paid with their lives. Similarly the caricature of the Prophet in a Danish newspaper in Europe triggered off riots and attacks on Christians and their properties in Maiduguri in February 2006. Albeit riots and protests took place world- 112 I. OKAFOR wide, that of Nigeria was the most tragic of all in terms of number of casualties. It elicited also revenge killings of Muslims by angry youths in Christian-dominated Southeastern cities of Aba and Onitsha. More than 250 human lives were lost, according to newspaper reports. 34 These confl icts often sharpen aggressive rhetoric in the media and public squares and thus generate a vicious circle of violence and hatred. It is based on the above that these three factors—the Sharia, the Quran, and the Prophet—are considered the tripod-herd on which Islamic fundamentalism proverbially cooks its meals in Northern Nigeria and other volatile regions in Africa. During some series of demonstrations organized in 1987/1988 in Kaduna, Yola, Sokoto, Zaria, and Kano states, to protest against the Karibi-Whyte Tribunal which was set up on 24 March 1987 to investigate the Kafanchan riot of that month and to carry out court trials of imprisoned rioters, the Muslim Students’ Society (MSS) were chanting the following slogans: “Allah is our aim, the messenger is our leader, the Qurân is our constitution, jihâd our principle.” 35 Nothing else summarizes better the causal relationship between doctrine and radicalism in Islam as these slogans. Therefore, the records of violence in Nigerian socio-political history 36 apparently speak overwhelmingly in favor of the argument that religious and doctrinal factors are principally responsible for most confl icts and acts of terror which have Christians and Muslims in Nigeria entangled in the strong talons of simmering hatred and unbroken spiral of violence.

TOWARD A VIABLE SOLUTION: THE ROLE OF THE STATE The politicization of Islam in Nigeria has been attributed to the perceived need for “forging a religious identity in order to cope with city life, address issues of secularism, and deal with the West—on economic, technological, and foreign-policy-related matters—on a rational, nonreligious ground.” 37 Hence, most of the controversial demands for Sharia were understood by some scholars as being probably motivated by Muslims’ felt need for self-determination. 38 However, as associational freedom give way to social fragmentation and antagonisms through group dynamics in a heterogeneous society, self-determination invariably evolves into an ideology of murderous exclusion that feeds incessantly on a vicious circle of hatred. In a 2002 article in the Harvard Journal of Law & Public Policy , Cass R. Sunstein argues that although “hatred itself is hardly against the law. (…), when it makes terrorism possible, there is every reason to dis- rupt associations that drive people to violent acts. [For] the line between ISLAMIC EXTREMISM IN WEST AFRICA: A HISTORICAL AND THEOLOGICAL... 113 associational freedom and conspiracy is not always crisp and certain.” 39 As a result, the state plays a crucial role as the political agency whose primary function it is to safeguard the common interests of all the persons under its jurisdiction. The jihadists’ ambition is to hijack that role by creating caliphates and establishing Islamic political territories that will undermine and possibly subvert the authority of the state. Inspired by fundamentalist values, jihadists then seek justifi cations in the Quran and Hadith that mask their hatred of others and rationalize their religious brigandage while obscur- ing the concept of jihad. The heavy tolls of innocent casualties, however, should make their continued infl uence and power intolerable to all political authorities, Muslims and non-Muslims alike. When houses of worship are turned into places of conspiracy through sermons that polarizes, the state and the religious communities must feel obliged to intervene preemptively to prevent potential tragedies. In Nairobi Kenya, for example, the discriminatory massacre of innocent civilians by al-Shabab militants at the Westgate Mall between 20 and 24 September 2013, where only Muslims were spared, or the bus attack of Saturday 22 November 2014, where passengers were asked to recite the Islamic creed “Shahada” or be shot to death, leaves no doubt about how disgusting religious bigotry can be. If a few Muslims feel threatened by the encroachment of other cultural or religious identities, it is important to ensure that they are prevented from spreading their polarizing poison in the society. The state must not fail in the exercise of this duty.

TOWARD A THEOLOGICAL SOLUTION The Islamic world would benefi t most from interpretations of the Quran that eschew violence and any justifi cation of coercion as a means to spreading the Islamic faith. Since a number of verses in the Quran seem to support extremism or give credence to Muhammad’s or Allah’s endorsement of brutal religious coercion (cf. suras 9:73; 3:85; 3:87; 5:51; 48.29), scholarly criticisms of religious literature should be encouraged. Their interpretations should not be left to the vagaries of hate-fi lled religious extremists, who hold fi rm to the absolute inerrancy of the Quran. We cannot neglect the theological importance and the risk posed by the possibility of fanatics and hatemongers interpreting sacred scriptures. Even if they merely constitute a minority of Muslims, Christians or other religious groups, since such fanatics will probably always exist in our society and religious 114 I. OKAFOR

communities, their capacity to polarize using the scripture should raise a concern for the well-being of the society. What religious education in most Islamic regions has refused to acknowledge is that divine revelation is a mystery, which cannot be absolutized in text. To avoid using the Quran as a dangerous tool of propaganda, text-critical exegesis is indispensable in enriching Islamic studies and in curbing all capricious and totalitarian tendencies that regard the holy book as a compendium of unquestionable divine imperatives to eradicate perceived unbelief and enforce submission to Allah. In an open letter of intervention on Wednesday 24 September 2014, which refutes and denounces the ideological basis of the ISIL extremist group, 120 Muslim scholars 40 have perhaps shown that the future of text- critical exegesis in Islamic religious education is not only desirable but also holds some promise. Some of the verses of the Quran as we know them are, de facto, not very different from the imprecatory passages of the Judeo-Christian scripture. Christianity and contemporary Christian theology, however, have evolved to the extent of being able to overcome most of the doctrinal challenges that militate against freedom, dialogue, tolerance, civilization, and development. Centuries of rigorous critical exegetical process has yielded a laudable growth in the transmission of divine revelation to young and old alike in a way that underscores the pre- eminence of reason over emotion in religious life. Owing to this possibility of doctrinal evolution, one has to appreciate the need to accentuate in Islamic studies the importance of text criticism and reform in theological hermeneutic. Some conservative Muslim scholars, like Sayyid Qutb and Salman b. Fahd al-Oadah, General Supervisor of the Islam Today Website, shed light on the infl uence of radical and bellicose interpretations. They advocate a perspective that sees the religious or cultural confl ict as one between Islam and polytheism (Jâhiliyyah ). For al-Oadah it is a struggle against the enemies of the Prophets which began “in antiquity when Allah sent the very fi rst Prophet to humanity and it will continue until Allah puts an end to the earth and everything on it.” 41 “Give unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and unto Allah what is Allah’s” [cf. Bible: Matthew 22:21] al- Oadah argues, “is exactly what the pagans in Mecca were saying when the Prophet … was sent to them.” 42 Thus the hostile perception (cf. sura 5:51) which Muslims have of Christians as opponents of Allah is rooted in the interpretation of the Quran. Christians’ acceptance of secularism reinforces such hostility. ISLAMIC EXTREMISM IN WEST AFRICA: A HISTORICAL AND THEOLOGICAL... 115

From the point of view of historical exegesis, the argument that the peaceful verses of the Quran from the Meccan period have been abrogated and replaced by the militant verses of the Medinan period remains one of the most obscure problems to be resolved in Islamic theology. For although the Quran is replete with exhortations of tolerance and peaceful attitude toward non-Muslims, yet these conciliatory verses are mired in the unresolved controversy about the doctrine of al-Nasikh wal-Mansukh. 43 For example, sura 2:256 (“Let there be no compulsion in religion; truth stands out clear from error”) and similar verses are believed to have been abrogated by sura 9:73 or sura 2:193, (“fi ght them on until there is no more tumult and religion becomes that of Allah ….”). Critics point out that there are 124 verses that speak of tolerance and patience in early Islam, but all were abrogated by one single verse known as the verse of the sword: “But when the forbidden months are past, then fi ght and slay the idolaters wherever you fi nd them ….” (sura 9:5). 44 But who are the idolaters? And why would a merciful God desire their death? These questions are the challenge which Islamic theology must confront. And until they are resolved, one can only say that the Hijjra—the fl ight of Prophet Muhammad from Mecca to Medina in 622 A.D.—apparently defi nes the moment of radicalization in Islamic history. As I noted in the beginning, a multipronged approach is necessary in responding to the threat of Islamic extremism—an approach that recognizes the importance of theological solutions. Such a solution must be sought, however, within Islam. In collaboration with other religious traditions of the world, Muslims must seek to prioritize education as an important tool for social and religious criticism. If we admit that the Quran, which is revered as a doctrinal corpus, exercises a dominant infl u- ence on Islamic militancy, we should consider historical-critical exegesis of the Quran indispensable in tempering the extremism that is stigma- tizing Islam today. It is in the interest of common good to create an environment of lasting peace and harmony between cultures and religions. The theological initiative which such a project of peace requires makes exceptional demand on clerics and Islamic scholars, and cannot be explained away with spurious theories like “Islamophobia.” It will entail genuine efforts and willingness by Muslims to dialogue and collaborate with others as brothers and sisters in pursuit of the common good of all humankind. A constructive way of reading the Islamic Scripture must be urgently promoted, if good Muslims genuinely wish to prevent the rape of their religion by extremists. Religious pluralism is attested to in 116 I. OKAFOR the Quran as God’s Will (cf. sura 10:99), 45 which questions the practice of religious bullying or coercion as something to be shunned by believers. Moreover, the existence of contradictory texts in the Quran makes a compelling case for a new hermeneutic in Islamic theology and in the training of clerics. Islam could learn from the history of Christianity, whose theological rigor and self-criticisms have assisted it in the continuous effort at reform and rediscovery of its evangelical mission in the modern world. The decision of the Vatican II Council Fathers to forget the past, and make a sincere effort to achieve mutual understanding, preserve and promote peace, liberty, social justice, and moral values (NA 3), is one that should fi nd echo in every religious institution today. The church has matched these words with actions in initiating interreligious dialogue with Islam for mutual respect and enrichment of religious pedagogy. A theology that shares this conciliar vision is capable of providing the requisite foundation for building a civilization of love, peace, and integral human development. What is needed is a theological maturity that will take the place of military arsenals in checking the threats of extremism in order to guarantee the future of interreligious harmony in the world.

CONCLUSION The hope of overcoming the forces that impact negatively upon Muslim– Christian relationship and create confl icts and suffering in West Africa is still alive. Religion still holds the promise of that hope for men and women who seek it. Therefore, whenever religion is (ab)used as a tool to constrain, victimize, and dispossess non-adherents; whenever it is used to trample upon human dignity and rights, especially, the inalienable right to life, liberty, peace, social justice, and personal development, its service of humanity is repudiated. Islam’s ambition to forge a global hegemony under Allah must recognize that the legitimacy of such hegemony is to be measured according to the extent it satisfi es human needs without any discrimination. The path toward this goal is genuine dialogue and a rational religious criticism. In his speech to participants at the International Meeting for Peace, organized in Rome by Sant’ Egidio Community (29 September–1 October 2013), Pope Francis reiterated the need to forcefully and con- tinually affi rm “that there can be no religious justifi cation for violence in whatever way it manifests itself.” 46 This is a truth that all religious people ISLAMIC EXTREMISM IN WEST AFRICA: A HISTORICAL AND THEOLOGICAL... 117 must hold sacred, if they are genuinely disposed to appreciating religious and cultural pluralism in the world as an expression of the divine. Islam, in fact, may well be experiencing a kairotic moment that is essential in purging it of any element that is not of God. As the Pope rightly observed on his return from Central African Republic after his visit to Africa, fundamentalism is “a disease of all religions” and is “idolatrous.” 47 Islam now needs a theology that will convincingly deplore the idolatry and irreli- gious fundamentalist dogma of the extremists, even if it means admitting and excising some apparently apocryphal elements in the Quran. In other words, terrorism ironically presents an opportunity for a rational, ethical introspection that will edify Islamic spirituality and clarify theologically what it means to be a true believer in Allah.

NOTES 1. See “Statement From Interreligious Dialogue Council on Dialogue With Muslims” published online: http://www.zenit.org/en/articles/ statement-from-interreligious-dialogue-council-on-dialogue-with-muslims . 2. Pope Francis, “Meeting with the Leaders of other Religions and other Christian Denominations” see online: https://w2.vatican.va/content/francesco/ en/speeches/2014/september/documents/papa-francesco_20140921_ albania-leaders-altre-religioni.html . 3. Pope Francis is known to have also made this comparison a few times in his speeches, where he talks of a “piecemeal World War III.” 4. See Ikenna Ugochukwu Okafor, “Historicizing the Intractable and Random Confl icts between Christians and Muslims in the West African Sub-Region: A Critical Theological Perspective,” in The Heythrop Journal Vol. 55, No. 3 (May 2014), pp. 422–438. However, my ideas on the issues concerned keep developing as events unfold on the global stage. 5. Ayoub Mahmoud, A Muslim View of Christianity : Essays on Dialogue (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 2007) p. 43. 6. Al-Haj Ahmed, “Ex-inmate turned al-Qaida leader surrenders” Associated Press article, Feb. 17, 2009 ( http://www.airforcetimes.com/article/20090217/NEWS/902170314/Ex-inmate-turned-al-Qaida- leader- surrenders ). See also Asharq Al-Awsat , http://www.aawsat.net/2009/01/ article55256143 . 7. See Yasin Kakande, “Westgate and Kenyan preacher’s fi ery sermons”. Online article in http://www.aljazeera.com/news/africa/2014/09/westgate- kenyan-preacher-fi ery-sermons-2014922143738774554.html . Of course many other examples abound. 118 I. OKAFOR

8. A spate of articles and books have been written which blame the religious violence on Islamic fundamentalism. In fact, many authors (including Muslims), albeit with differing analyses, agree that fundamentalism is the root of the problem. The words “fundamentalism” and “extremism” are sometimes used interchangeably to refer to the same reality. However, I understand the two terms to be closely related as cause and effect, where the former is the cause of the latter. Extremism feeds on fundamentalist beliefs. 9. In a lecture delivered in Vienna titled ‘Islam and Muslims in Europe today: from cultural assimilation to social integration’, Friday 22nd February 2013, Tahir Abbas blamed the rise in Islamic extremism on what he calls “Islamophobia. ” I consider it misleading to suggest that such phobia exists and not merely an invented pseudo-phenomenon that is used to explain the unexplainable or excuse the inexcusable. Nobody in Nigeria, for example, is afraid of Islam, but people are wary about the apparent reluctance of Muslims to condemn outright evil that is perpetrated in the name of the Islamic religion. The script of Abbas’ lecture is yet to be published by the Research Platform, Religion and Transformation (RaT) of the Faculty of Catholic Theology, University of Vienna, Austria. 10. Here one can think of the ban imposed by the French government on the wearing of hijab or similar headscarves or displaying of religious symbols in public places. 11. Falola Toyin, Violence in Nigeria : The Crisis of Religious Politics and Secular Ideologies (Rochester: University of Rochester Press, 1998) p. 5. 12. J. F. Ade Ajayi, (ed.) General History of Africa. VI Africa in the Nineteenth Century until the 1880s (California: UNESCO, 1998) pp. 218f. 13. Ade Ajayi, General History of Africa , p. 218. 14. Ibid. 15. Kolapo F. J., ‘Making Favourable Impressions: Bishop Crowther’s CMS Niger Mission in Jihadist Nupe Emirate, 1859–1879’, in Chima J. Korieh and G. Ugo Nwokeji, (eds.), Religion , History and Politics in Nigeria : Essays in Honour of Ogbu U. Kalu , (E-Book: University Press of America, 2005) pp. 29–48. Kolapo made reference to other authors saying: “For Ilorin see S. Johnson, The History of the Yoruba from the Earliest Time to the Beginning of the British Protectorate (Lagos, 1957), 288, 338. For Rabba, see R. Lander and J. Lander, The Journal of an Expedition to Explore the Course and Termination of the Niger with a Narrative of a Voyage down that River to its Termination , vol I (New York: J. & J. Harper, 1832), 280. See also W. H. Clarke, Travels and Explorations in Yorubaland 1854–1858 , where he referred to “Fulani march to the coast.” (Ibadan: Ibadan University Press, 1972), 195”. 16. Kolapo, ibid. referencing E. A. Ayandele’s Review of John B. Grimley and Gordon E. Robinson, ‘Church Growth in Central and Southern Nigeria’, in Journal of African History 8, no. 2 (1967) 363. ISLAMIC EXTREMISM IN WEST AFRICA: A HISTORICAL AND THEOLOGICAL... 119

17. Ibid. p. 220. 18. For details, see Gbadamosi T., The Growth of Islam among the Yoruba , 1841– 1908 (London: Longman, 1978). 19. Naniya Tijani Muhammad, “History of the Sharia in some States of Northern Nigeria to circa 2000,” in Journal of Islamic Studies 13:1 (2002), p. 19. 20. See Yousaf Butt, “How Saudi Wahhabism Is the Fountainhead of Islamist Terrorism” Online Blog Post, accessed 15.11.2015, 16:00, http:// www.huffingtonpost.com/dr-yousaf-butt-/saudi-wahhabism-islam- terrorism_b_6501916.html . 21. Moshe Terdiman, “Caribbean Memories of Slavery and the Myths of Othman dan Fodio’s Sokoto Caliphate”, https://muslimsinafrica.wordpress.com/2013/03/15/caribbean-memories-of-slavery-and-the-myths-of- othman-dan-fodios-sokoto-caliphate-dr-moshe-terdiman/ . 22. Ibid. 23. See A.D.H. Bivar, “The Wathiqat Ahl Al-Sudan: a Manifesto of the Fulani Jihad”, Journal of African History 2 (1961), 235–43. One can see the text online: http://www.lasalle.edu/~mcinneshin/344/wk06/jihaddocs.htm . 24. Hussein Solomon, “Nigeria’s Boko Haram: Beyond the Rhetoric” Online article. Accessed 12.10.2014, https://muslimsinafrica.wordpress.com/2014/06/11/ nigerias-boko-haram-beyond-the-rhetoric-professor-hussein- solomon/ . 25. Falola, Violence in Nigeria , pp. 24–31. 26. Ayoub, A Muslim View of Christianity , pp. 43–46. Supersessionism was expressed in Catholic theology with the maxim extra ecclesiam nulla salus — outside the church there is no salvation—a doctrine that dominated the teachings of the church for many centuries. Several texts in the Qur’an also express similar belief about Islam. 27. Falola, Violence in Nigeria , p. 45. 28. Lemu B. A., Tawhid and Fiqh ( Belief and Jurisprudence ), Junior Islamic Studies, vol. 1 (Minna: Islamic Education Trust, 1988), p. 183. Quoted also by Falola, ibid., 74. 29. Falola, Violence in Nigeria , p. 80. 30. Aniagolu A. N., The Making of the 1989 Constitution of Nigeria (Ibadan: Spectrum, 1993), p. 93. 31. Adamu Abuh, Guardian Newspaper , Kano, Wednesday December 12, 2001. 32. Isichei Elizabeth, (1987–10). ‘The Maitatsine Risings in Nigeria 1980–1985: A Revolt of the Disinherited’ in Journal of Religion in Africa 17 (3 ): 194 – 208 . [eBook article] Retrieved 11-05-2012. 33. See Isioma Daniel, ‘I lit the match’ The Guardian , Monday 17 February 2003 ( http://www.theguardian.com/world/2003/feb/17/gender. pressandpublishing ). 34. cf. Vanguard Newspaper, Sunday Feb. 26, 2006. 120 I. OKAFOR

35. Loimeier Roman, Islamic Reform and Political Change in Northern Nigeria , p. 297. Google Books, Source: http://books.google. at/books/about/Islamic_Reform_and_Political_Change_in_N. html?hl=de&id=IggrBWN7GS8C . [eBook] accessed Friday, 11th May 2012, 23:25:17. 36. Okafor Ikenna, “Historicizing” 430–433. 37. See Falola, Violence in Nigeria , p. 16. 38. See Lubeck Paul, Lipschutz Ronnie and Weeks Erik, (eds.) The Globality of Islam : Sharia as a Nigerian ‘ Self-Determination ’ Movement , QEH Working Paper Series—QEHWPS106 [eBook] (University of California, 2003). 39. Cass R. Sunstein, “Why They Hate Us: The Role of Social Dynamics”, 25 Harv. J.L. & Pub. Pol’y 429 (2002). Online source: http://nrs.harvard.edu/ urn-3:HUL.InstRepos:12921736 Accessed: November 17, 2015 14:00:00 GMT. 40. Lauren Markoe, “Muslim Scholars Release Open Letter to Islamic State Meticulously Blasting Its Ideology”. http://www.huffi ngtonpost. com/2014/09/24/muslim-scholars-islamic-state_n_5878038.html?ncid=t xtlnkusaolp00000592 Accessed online on 25.09.2014. 41. al-Oadah Salman b. Fahd, ‘Islam and Secularism’, in Online Islamic Library, accessed 06.05.2013, 11:47 http://www.islambasics.com/view. php?bkID=77&chapter=1 . 42. Ibid. 43. See Abdullah Al Araby, ‘The Qur’an’s Doctrine of Abrogation’. Accessed online 06.05.2013, in http://www.islamreview.com/articles/quransdoc- trineprint.htm . 44. Al Araby, ibid. See also Mannheimer Michael, ‘The Principle of Abrogation in the Qur’an’, Online Essay http://www.Michael-Mannheimer.info (Germany, March 23, 2010). 45. Sura 10:99 reads: ‘If it had been thy Lord’s Will, they would all have believed, all who are on earth! Wilt thou then compel mankind against their will to believe?’ 46. See http://www.zenit.org/en/articles/pope-francis-address-to-the- participants-international-meeting-for- peace-by-the-sant-egidio . 47. See http://news.yahoo.com/pope-says-fundamentalism-disease-religions- 041229589.html . PART III

The United States of America CHAPTER 6

The Reign of God and Constantine’s Disputed Legacy: Religious Freedom, Sacred Empire, and the American Experience

Leo D. Lefebure

Every generation of Christians embraces Jesus’ prayer for the coming of the reign of God. In many contexts around the world today, hope for the realization of the reign of God offers Christians a basis for social engagement and, at times, for embracing religious pluralism. Chinese-American theologian C. S. Song places the reign of God at the center of his theology as the hermeneutical key to Jesus and Christian discipleship: “The reign of God was Jesus’ vision. It is a vision that has inspired countless men and women after him to live not just for themselves, but for their community and for God. From the standpoint of the Christian faith, that vision is the heart of life, both individual and communal.” 1 For Song, the reign of God is a challenge to traditional powers: “The reign of God does not consist of concepts; it consists of power for the powerless and the disinherited.” 2 In Sri Lanka, Protestant biblical scholar Lynn de Silva proposed the Kingdom

L. D. Lefebure ( ) Georgetown University, Washington, DC , USA

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2016 123 L.D. Lefebure (ed.), Religion, Authority, and the State, DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59990-2_6 124 L.D. LEFEBURE of God as a way to integrate Buddhist and Christian perspectives into a united vision of human fulfi llment: “In the idea of the Kingdom of God, I suggest, we have an answer to the Buddhist quest for self-negation as well as for a form of self-fulfi lment, without one contradicting the other.” 3 Some theologians center their theology on the reign of God to advance theological discussions of ecclesiology and interreligious relations; Paul F. Knitter comments: “So in the end, the best description of Jesus and his priorities is that he was Kingdom-centered. Everything else was oriented toward, and in a sense subordinated to, bringing about this new society, this new ordering of the world in which God’s will would be done and all would have life, and have it abundantly.” 4 The reign of God can be a powerful motivating factor, calling forth energies and inspiring sacrifi ces to serve God’s purposes in this world. However, too great a confi dence that a particular people or government is actually bringing in the reign of God can lead to unintended and ambiguous consequences. Reinhold Niebuhr warned that we should be distrustful of those who pretend to play the role of God in history, warning: “All historic virtues and achievements are more ambiguous and fragmentary, than we are inclined to believe.” 5 While every generation of Christians hopes and prays for the coming of the reign of God, there are certain moments in history when the blessing of God seems to descend from heaven upon a particular people in a privileged manner; the horizon of a new era appears to open up, with seemingly unlimited possibilities for the future. The mood can be exhila- rating. Two such moments were the reign of Emperor Constantine and the founding of the USA. In the fourth century, Eusebius of Caesarea enthusiastically presented Constantine as a sacred emperor with a divine mandate to spread wisdom and justice across the earth, and Lactantius, the tutor of Constantine’s children, presented one of the most moving arguments for religious freedom. In the eighteenth century, many Americans hailed the birth of the USA as a special moment of providence that would bring blessings of liberty to all the world. Both Constantine and his admirers in the ancient world and the founders of the USA hoped that their new projects would enjoy God’s providential blessing, usher in a new age of history, and help to realize the reign of God on earth. In each case the results have been ambiguous. Even the best-laid plans to realize God’s reign can lead to empires that involve domination, exclusion, and oppression. In each of these contexts, the concrete practice of religious freedom proved to be limited. THE REIGN OF GOD AND CONSTANTINE’S DISPUTED LEGACY: RELIGIOUS... 125

There are multiple tensions within each of these historical developments; there is also a profound tension between these two historical moments. The founders of the USA generally viewed the legacy of Constantine in a negative light. They very pointedly did not want to imi- tate Constantine and found a new Christian Byzantine Empire, and they certainly did not want a sacred monarch to rule over them in the name of God. Nonetheless, in launching a nation with a worldwide mission to spread peace and justice under God’s providence, they may have resembled the Constantinian heritage more strongly than they would have cared to admit. Constantine affi rmed religious freedom in principle but also set ominous precedents in legislation regarding Jews; the Constitution of the USA promised the free exercise of religion, but this was never granted to enslaved African American Muslims. The experience of sacred empire and religious freedom in the USA involves a complex, confl icted, and sometimes contradictory relationship with the Constantinian heritage. In light of recent invocations of the reign of God in the context of social engagement and religious pluralism, it is worthwhile to examine these two important historical cases where many Christians believed that the reign of God was realizing itself in history in a dramatic way.

CONSTANTINE, SACRED EMPEROR, AND RELIGIOUS FREEDOM By any measure, Constantine was one of the most infl uential rulers of ancient times, indeed in all of world history. 6 However, the value of his contribution has been vigorously debated, and he has been variously hailed as the best of saintly emperors and condemned as the worst corrupter of Christianity. Byzantine Christians honor Constantine as a saint, lauding him as isoapostolos , the “equal of the apostles”; but Dante Alighieri encountered Constantine in the circle of the corrupt, simoniac popes in hell and chastised him for allegedly giving a donation of land to Pope Sylvester I, thereby founding the Papal States and entangling popes for centuries in temporal affairs (Inferno 19.115-17). Even though the later legend of Constantine’s donation to the Pope is of dubious historicity, its infl uence on medieval Christianity was enormous. After the fall of Constantinople in 1453, Russian Czars honored Constantine’s example and claimed to inherit his divine mandate. In sharp contrast, during the Protestant Reformation many radical Reformers saw the reign of Constantine as the end of true Christian faith and practice. The Swiss Brethren lay minister 126 L.D. LEFEBURE

Hans Schnell spoke for many Anabaptists in charging: “When Constantine assumed and accepted the name Christian … then the apostasy came, from which apostasy may God protect us eternally. Amen.” 7 To the present day, there is a vigorous debate between Constantine’s defenders and his detractors. 8 Not many ancient rulers can still inspire so animated a dispute 1700 years later.

THE SACRED EMPEROR For centuries, Roman emperors had claimed divine authority to rule the empire. Earlier in his life Constantine honored Sol Invictus (“The Unconquered Sun”), but by 312 he had embraced Christianity and had begun using the labarum (military standard) with the Chi-Rho or “Christogram” as his emblem. 9 Through a long series of struggles with his rivals, Constantine eventually consolidated his rule over the entire Roman Empire. The victorious Constantine presented himself to his people as the recipient of a mission from God, and his faithful commentator Eusebius of Caesarea concurred. While Constantine did not establish Christianity as the offi cial religion of the empire, he did increasingly shape Roman society in accordance with Christian values, directing imperial funds to support Christian charities, decreeing that Sunday be observed as a holy day by all, and forbidding crucifi xion, cruel spectacles, and gladiators. 10 Timothy Barnes comments: “Before 337 there was scarcely any facet of Roman public life unaffected by the offi cial Christianization of Roman society which Constantine began at the Battle of the Milvian Bridge.” 11 Constantine believed that Virgil’s fourth Eclogue prefi gured his mission to bring Christianity to the Roman Empire. 12 One of the most dramatic expressions of the new relationship between the Roman emperor and the Christian Church came as the Emperor Constantine dined with the bishops at the banquet for the twentieth anniversary of his reign at the conclusion of the Council of Nicaea in 325; the infl uential bishop and church historian Eusebius of Caesarea hailed this event as resembling a vision of the kingdom of Christ: “It might have been supposed that it was an imaginary representation of the kingdom of Christ, and that what was happening was ‘dream, not fact’ ” (Homer, Od. , 19.547). 13 One can understand Eusebius’s enthusiasm at the imperial banquet; just two decades earlier Christians had been fi ercely persecuted; now a Christian catechumen ruled the Roman Empire and was favoring the Church with his blessings. Eusebius could appeal to the outward victories THE REIGN OF GOD AND CONSTANTINE’S DISPUTED LEGACY: RELIGIOUS... 127 and the long reign of Constantine as evidence that he was the approved favorite of God: “Making [Constantine] the model of his own monarchical reign, [God] appointed him victor over the whole race of tyrants and destroyer of the God-battling giants, who in mental frenzy raised weapons against the Sovereign of the universe himself.” 14 Eusebius presents Constantine caring for the welfare of the Church “like a universal bishop appointed by God.” 15 In his Oration to the Assembly of the Saints , Eusebius interprets Constantine as the friend of the Logos with a divine mandate to lead all humans in a Christian society: “As the Universal Savior renders the entire heaven and earth and highest kingdom fi t for His Father, so His friend [i.e., Constantine], leading his subjects on earth to the Only-Begotten and Savior Logos, makes them suitable for His kingdom.” 16 Eusebius expands the signifi cance of Constantine beyond the boundaries of his own realm to embrace a universal role of the emperor to the entire human community: “His friend [Constantine], like some interpreter of the Logos of God, summons the whole human race to knowledge of the Higher Power, calling in a great voice that all can hear and proclaiming for everyone on earth the laws of genuine piety.” 17 While not all were persuaded by this vision, the majority of bishops welcomed imperial support, at least when they were in harmony with the emperor’s views and policies.

RELIGIOUS FREEDOM: CONSTANTINE AND LACTANTIUS: “SO WHY DO THEY BEHAVE WITH SUCH SAVAGERY?” Admirers of Constantine have often given him credit for setting an important precedent by granting Christians religious freedom in the Roman Empire in the so-called Edict of Milan of 313, even though scholars have long pointed out that technically it was not an edict and was not issued in Milan and was not even issued by Constantine but rather by his co- ruler Licinius in Nicomedia. 18 Moreover, even before their decision, earlier pagan emperors had already halted the persecutions. Maximinus had directed that persecution of Christians be stopped because he deemed the practice inimical to the interests of non-Christians. Similarly, Galerius, who was in Serdica seeking healing at the baths, decided to grant religious freedom to Christians. Today, in front of the Church of Holy Wisdom in Sofi a, Bulgaria, historical markers recall that the Edict of the Emperor Galerius, issued in ancient Serdica (present-day Sofi a) in 311, granted religious freedom to Christians two years before the so-called Edict of Milan of Constantine did. 128 L.D. LEFEBURE

Nonetheless, Constantine retains the distinction of extending religious freedom for Christians throughout the entire Roman Empire and of affi rming religious freedom as a right for all. Eusebius presents a text of the Imperial Ordinances of Constantine and Licinius, which begins: “We have long intended that freedom of worship should not be denied but that everyone should have the right to practice his religion as he chose. Accordingly, we had given orders that both Christians and [all others] should be permitted to keep the faith of their own sect and worship.” 19 Since the emperors fear that their decrees have not been fully implemented, they reiterate that “everyone was to be granted the right to give his mind to that form of worship that he thinks suitable to himself, so that the Deity may show us his usual care and generosity in all things.” 20 H. A. Drake summarizes the core of Constantine’s policy: “Though he was himself a Christian and made no effort to hide his allegiance to that faith, he would not return to the policy of coercion, whose disastrous consequences were apparent to all.” 21 Even though Constantine may not deserve as much credit as he has traditionally been given, he did mark a decisive shift: “Although the ‘Edict of Milan’ is really a letter of Licinius to the governors of the Eastern provinces, it still represents a sea change in the direction of imperial policy. Christianity is no longer to be shunted aside as ‘un-Roman’ or the practice of eccentrics.” 22 The infl uential African Christian leader Lactantius (ca. 250–ca. 325), who served as tutor to Constantine’s children, expressed in ringing terms the principle of religious liberty that Constantine would later implement. In his Divine Institutes , Lactantius responded to the crisis of the severe persecution of Christians during the early fourth century and issues a biting challenge to those who use violence to enforce religious belief and practice: “Do they try to do this [enforce worship of Roman deities] by talk, or by offering any kind of argument? Not at all: they use violence and torture. What an extraordinary blind madness!” 23 Instead of using violence, Lactantius proposes to debate the merits of religious claims: “[L]et them set forth what profi t there is in worship- ping so and what penalty for contempt of it all…. There is no need for violence and brutality: worship cannot be forced; it is something to be achieved by talk rather than blows, so that there is free will in it.” 24 Lactantius contrasts the persecutions with the practice in the Christian community: “No one is detained by us against his will—anyone without devotion and faith is no use to God; but when truth detains, no one departs.” 25 THE REIGN OF GOD AND CONSTANTINE’S DISPUTED LEGACY: RELIGIOUS... 129

Lactantius insists on the fundamental principle that piety cannot be compelled: “So why do they behave with such savagery? To increase their folly while wanting to lessen it? The butcher’s trade and piety are two very different things; truth cannot be partnered with violence, nor justice with cruelty.” 26 In one of the most ringing rejections of religiously motivated violence in all of Christian literature, he asserts: “Religion must be defended not by killing but by dying, not by violence but by endurance, not by sin but by faith: that is the contrast between bad and good, and in religion the practice must be good, not bad. If you want to defend religion by bloodshed, torture and evil, then at once it will not be so defended: it will be polluted and outraged.” 27 Lactantius maintains the necessity of freedom for true worship: “An unwilling sacrifi ce is no sacrifi ce. Unless it comes from the heart spontaneously, it is blasphemy when people act under threat of proscription, injustice, prison or torture. If those are gods that get worshipped like that, they are not fi t to be worshipped for the single reason that they want to be worshipped like that.” 28 Lactantius wanted to persuade the pagans of the fourth century, not coerce them. Peter Garnsey has argued that Christians were the fi rst to advocate religious freedom. 29 In On the Deaths of the Persecutors , Lactantius presents a Latin version of the decree of Constantine and Licinius who met in Milan, decided to grant religious freedom and declared that

we thought that, among all the other things that we saw would benefi t the majority of men, the arrangements which above all needed to be made were those which ensured reverence for the Divinity, so that we might grant both to Christians and to all men freedom to follow whatever religion each one wished, in order that whatever divinity there is in the seat of heaven may be appeased and made propitious towards us and towards all who have been set under our power. 30

According to the text presented by Lactantius, Constantine and Licinius explicitly command the governor whom they are addressing:

We thought that this should be very fully communicated to your Solicitude, so that you should know that we have given a free and absolute permission to these same Christians to practice their religion. And when you perceive that this indulgence has been accorded by us to these people, your Devotedness understands that others too have been granted a similarly open and free permission to follow their own religion and worship as befi ts the peacefulness of our times, so that each man may have a free opportunity to engage in whatever worship he has chosen. 31 130 L.D. LEFEBURE

Like Eusebius, Lactantius saw Constantine’s victory as the working of divine providence in world history. Lactantius rejoiced that God had vindicated the persecuted martyrs and punished their tormentors: “We ought to give thanks to His eternal goodness, in that He has at last looked upon the earth and seen fi t to repair and bring together again His fl ock, of which part had been ravaged by voracious wolves, part scattered abroad, and to exterminate the evil beasts who had trampled down the pastures of the divine fl ock and broken up their resting-places.” 32

THE LIMITATIONS OF RELIGIOUS FREEDOM: “WHAT HAS THE CHURCH TO DO WITH THE EMPEROR?” Even though Constantine established religious freedom in principle for all, he did not recognize all religious traditions as equal, and he did not pretend to create a perfectly equal arena for all religious traditions. While Constantine for the most part allowed traditional Roman and Greek temples and shrines to continue to operate, he did destroy a shrine of Aesculapius for reasons that are not clear. 33 Moreover, he chastised their errors and prayed that they would become Christian. 34 As Peter J. Leithart comments, “Pagans were tolerated, but they were tolerated within an empire that everyone could see was increasingly Christian.” 35 As events unfolded, it became clear that there were limitations to the implementation of the policy of religious freedom for all. When the Donatists in North Africa failed to accept the authority of the Catholic bishop in Carthage, Constantine treated them as crimi- nals and ordered that their property be confi scated. 36 Later, however, in 321 he was forced to acknowledge that this policy was not successful; and he entrusted the fi nal resolution of the crisis to God’s care, allowing the Donatists to remain in his realm. 37 The problem would continue for many years after Constantine. Shortly after the death of Constantine, when his successor Constans attempted to resolve the Donatists controversy with money, Donatus posed the pointed question that would echo through the centuries: “What has the Church to do with the emperor?” 38 Constantine also sought to enforce doctrinal unity in the Church through the decision against Arius at the Council of Nicaea, but again his efforts encountered serious resistance. Robert Grant describes the similarity to the emperor’s frustrated intervention against the Donatists: THE REIGN OF GOD AND CONSTANTINE’S DISPUTED LEGACY: RELIGIOUS... 131

The Council of Nicaea thus provided an ambiguous precedent for the east similar to the one given in the west by the emperor’s intervention in the Donatist controversy. There the problem of schism had reached no solution when imperial decrees were employed. Here the question of heresy was not settled even when the emperor worked as a Christian with Christian bishops and gave guidance in their council, then endeavoring to enforce the decisions by the power of the state. 39

Despite the exalted hopes, the kingdom of Christ anticipated by Eusebius at the closing banquet was not to be realized quite yet, and the Arian controversy would continue to rage for decades to come. Henry Chadwick comments on the ironic effect of the new political protection of Christians: “It would be more persuasive to say that, by liberating the churches from the threats of hostile government, Constantine set them free to indulge in uninhibited internal confl ict without feeling a need to stay together bonded in brotherhood to ensure survival.” 40 Of particular and ominous importance for the future, Constantine discriminated against the Jews, launching the practice of Christian imperial legislation that restricted Jewish life. For nearly 300 years, Jews and Christians had been minorities with little political or military power in the Roman Empire. These communities overlapped and debated vigorously during this period. For many communities at this time, Jewish and Christian identities frequently intermingled, as many Jews in some way honored Jesus, and many Christians continued to attend services in synagogues. 41 These Jewish Christians or Christian Jews saw no need to choose between one identity and the other. 42 The social and political situation of both communities changed when Constantine became the fi rst Christian emperor. At the same time that Christians’ status in the empire was improving, the victorious emperor saw the Jews as a “hostile people,” a “nation of parricides” who “slew their Lord.” 43 Immediately after Eusebius’s hope-fi lled description of the glorious banquet in Nicaea, he goes on to present Constantine’s report on the council to the churches in Syria and Palestine, in which the emperor calls for Christians not to follow the Jewish practice of dating for the feast of Easter:

In the fi rst place it was decreed unworthy to observe that most sacred festi- val [Easter] in accordance with the practice of the Jews; having sullied their own hands with a heinous crime, such bloodstained men are as one might expect mentally blind…. [T]heir nation has been rejected…. Let there be nothing in common between you and the detestable mob of Jews! 44 132 L.D. LEFEBURE

With Constantine came the beginning of offi cial Christian legislation against Jews. If any Jew sought to punish converts from Judaism to Christianity, that person was to be burned alive. The same penalty was decreed for anyone who converted to Judaism. The religious liberty offered by Constantine was a lasting gift for Christians, but followers of other religious paths would face diffi culties in the years to come. In issuing the fi rst Christian legislation that discriminated against Jews and in persecuting the Donatist heretics in North Africa, he set precedents of immense and ominous signifi cance for the future. James Carroll singles out “Constantine’s Sword” as the title for his historical survey of Christian anti-Jewish attitudes and practices:

Constantine put the Roman execution device, now rendered with a spear, at the center not only of the story of his conversion to Christianity, but of the Christian story itself. When the death of Jesus—rendered literally, in all its violence, as opposed to metaphorically or theologically—replaced the life of Jesus and the new life of the Resurrection at the heart of the Christian imagination, the balance shifted decisively against the Jews. 45

In the century following Constantine, the situation of Jews would become precarious in many places. A Christian mob, incited by their bishop, destroyed a synagogue in Callinicum in the late fourth century; when the Emperor Theodosius wanted to enforce Roman law and require the bishop to pay damages, Ambrose of Milan, a doctor of the Catholic Church, forbade him, insisting that God had willed the destruction of the synagogue. 46 Carroll notes that in 414 a Christian mob attacked the Jewish community in Alexandria and suggests that it was “history’s fi rst pogrom”; looking to the long-term future, Carroll comments, “One could almost say that for Jews, the Age of Constantine came to an end only with David Ben Gurion.” 47

AUGUSTINE: “WHAT ARE GREAT EMPIRES BUT GREAT ROBBERS?” Not every Christian was enthralled by the idea of a Christian Roman Empire. Ambrose of Milan commented that every secular offi ce is under the power of Satan. 48 After the sack of Rome by Alaric in 410, skeptics asked why the God of Christianity was not able to defend Rome in the way the pagan gods had done, and Augustine wrote The City of God against the Pagans in response. Augustine commented that “the emperor THE REIGN OF GOD AND CONSTANTINE’S DISPUTED LEGACY: RELIGIOUS... 133 has become a Christian, but the devil has not.” 49 Augustine noted the continuing power of the lust for dominion even under the reign of a Christian emperor. Indeed, Augustine developed one of the most thor- ough-going critiques of Eusebius’ theology of empire in all of Christian literature. Like the biblical prophets who challenged the pretensions of monarchs in ancient Israel, Augustine rejected Eusebius’ exaltation of a Christian Roman emperor and the entire model of sacred kingship. Like the Prophet Samuel (1 Sam 8:6-22), Augustine thought earthly rulers were largely thieves and saw monarchy as a tragic necessity because of human sinfulness and not as directly willed by God. Augustine believed that no form of government could assure true justice in this world, and he sardonically questioned: “Justice removed, what are kingdoms but great bands of robbers? What are bands of robbers but little kingdoms?” 50 For Augustine, empires founded on the conquest and domination of other peoples in principle are not Christian. He recounted the story that Cicero had told of the pirate who was captured and brought before Alexander the Great. Alexander was outraged that the pirates dared to attack other ships, and asked his captive “what he meant by infesting the sea.” The captured pirate pointedly commented: “The same as you do when you infest the whole world; but because I do it with a little ship I am called a robber, and because you do it with a great fl eet, you are an emperor.” 51 Augustine, like many other Christians, believed that Jews were collectively responsible for the crucifi xion of Jesus. Augustine believed that Jews bore the “mark of Cain,” but he also insisted that this meant that they should not be killed but should be allowed to live, though in a subordinate situation. 52 Their survival in the Diaspora bore witness to God’s judgment against them for their role in rejecting Jesus Christ, but they served God’s plan by bearing unwitting witness to the authenticity of the prophecies that foretold the coming of Jesus Christ. 53

JUSTINIAN: “ANY DIFFERENCE BETWEEN PRIESTHOOD AND EMPIRE IS SMALL” Despite Augustine’s skepticism, many Christians continued to have confi - dence in the providential blessings brought by an effective Christian Roman Empire. Most notably, Justinian revived the Byzantine Roman Empire in the sixth century, regained control of much of the Mediterranean world, and developed the providential view of the emperor. According to the Novels (“New Laws”) of Justinian, “Any difference between priesthood 134 L.D. LEFEBURE and empire is small.” 54 He also believed that the emperor had responsibility and authority to protect Christian orthodoxy. 55 Thus Justinian sought to eradicate heresy, even condemning authors who died in union with the Church many centuries earlier. Justinian also intervened in Jewish affairs, decreeing that Jews must use either the Greek Septuagint or Aquila’s Greek translation of their Bible in the synagogues because he hoped that Jews might be persuaded by these translations of the biblical prophecies to convert to Christianity. 56 The legal restrictions placed on Jews by Justinian were far more severe than those of Constantine. In formulating his legislation, Justinian dropped many laws that had protected the status of Jews in earlier legal decrees. 57 Jews were forbidden to practice law, and any Jew who pretended to hold a position of authority over a Christian was to be fi ned. 58 Justinian dropped the earlier legislation that guaranteed the right of Judaism to exist, leaving Jews at the mercy of the sovereign, and he confi scated synagogues in North Africa, handing them over to the Christian Church. 59 J. W. Parkes comments on the effect of Justinian’s legislation concerning the Jews: “The work of Justinian is the last Roman attempt at unifi ed Christian legislation affecting the Jews… At the same time the seeds of all later legislation are contained in that of Justinian and his predecessors. No fundamentally new step will be taken until France has the courage to proclaim and put into practice their total equality with other citizens.” 60 The ideal of religious freedom for all that had been decreed by Constantine and so eloquently defended by Lactantius had effectively died.

THE AMERICAN EXPERIENCE: SACRED EMPIRE AND RELIGIOUS FREEDOM The USA was born amid exalted hopes of glory, not unlike the celebratory mood of Eusebius concerning Constantine. Many saw a special intervention of divine providence that would bring blessings to the entire world. Over 1400 years after Constantine’s famous banquet with the bishops, Ezra Stiles, the president of Yale College, gave a sermon on 8 May 1783 to the Connecticut General Assembly in Hartford, in which he celebrated the newly born USA as “elevated to Glory and Honor.” Stiles chose to preach on Deuteronomy 26:19: “And to make thee high above all nations, which He hath made in name, and in praise, and in honor; and that thou may- est be an holy people unto the Lord thy God.” After noting that Moses’ prophecy had come true in ancient times for the people of Israel, Stiles THE REIGN OF GOD AND CONSTANTINE’S DISPUTED LEGACY: RELIGIOUS... 135 moved rapidly to apply the prophecy to the present-day USA as the heir to these promises: “I have assumed the text, only as introductory to a discourse upon the political welfare of God’s American Israel; and as allusively prophetic of the future prosperity and splendor of the United States.” 61 Many contemporaries shared Ezra Stiles’ confi dence that the new nation was endowed with a providential divine mission to spread democracy on earth while also providing religious freedom. 62 The Great Seal of the USA proclaims mottos that could easily have been applied to Constantine’s reign: “Annuit coeptis” (“God has favored our undertakings”) and “novus ordo saeculorum ” (“a new order of the ages”). In such moments, theological and political perspectives join together to interpret God’s providential favor. The legacy of “exceptionalism” lived on, shaping American political life in one generation after another. More recently, Stephen Webb comments: “America is less a place than an idea, and what has held Americans together, across religious, ethnic, and political lines, is the idea that America has a special role in the world.” 63 From colonial times to the present, many Americans have seen their land as a Chosen Nation. Despite the lofty hopes, as in the case of Constantine’s imperial mission, ambiguities and inconsistencies would haunt the American experiment as well. Freedom would never be extended to all.

RELIGIOUS FREEDOM IN “THE CITY ON A HILL” From the fi rst Puritan settlement in New England, European Americans have nurtured a sense that they, like the ancient Israelites fl eeing the corruption of Egypt, were on an “errand in the wilderness,” fl eeing the corruption of Europe. Puritan settlers came to North America seeking to escape the tyranny of High-Church Stuart monarchs who claimed a divine right to rule and who in some ways seemed all too similar to Constantine. In many respects, early British settlers in North America wanted to escape the legacy of Constantine. However, as Puritans and later Americans strove to establish an “American Zion,” a “city on a hill” that would be a model of God’s kingdom, they may have become more similar to Constantine than they would have wished to admit. The Puritans in New England wanted religious freedom for themselves and their form of Christianity, but they did not want to grant it to others. The Puritans banished Roger Williams from the Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1635 because he did not conform to their beliefs and practices. Williams proceeded to found the new colony of Rhode Island as 136 L.D. LEFEBURE a “haven for the cause of conscience.” In many respects, Williams followed on the path pioneered by Lactantius and Constantine in strongly advocating religious liberty. At a time when most in North America were horrifi ed by the notion of religious freedom, Williams became the most eloquent early American advocate of what he called “soul liberty.” In The Bloody Tenent of 1644, he argues that a Christian church does not persecute, and that those who persecute are not Christian. 64 Like Lactantius, Roger Williams insists that Christians present a truth that dwells in human hearts and that is incompatible with coercion. Even though Williams was reprising many of the themes of Lactantius, he also attacked Constantine as more dangerous to Christianity than the Emperor Nero who had persecuted Christians. Williams blames Constantine for introducing the use of physical force to defend spiritual truths. Williams further charges that Constantine corrupted Christianity by instituting the mixed political- religious institution of Christendom. Thus, Williams was not grateful to Constantine for instituting religious freedom; instead Williams sought to escape the model of Constantine by insisting that Christianity should be a spiritual community alone without any political expression. 65 The American implementation of religious liberty in some ways resembles the practice of Constantine in holding up noble principles of freedom for all, but in practice being selective, ambiguous, and contradictory. The First Amendment of the US Constitution forbids the establishment of any religion by the federal government, and it also guarantees the free exercise of religion. There were, to be sure, important gains for some religious communities in comparison with much of the European Christian heritage. In an important letter of 1790, George Washington assured the Jewish community of the Touro synagogue in Newport, Rhode Island, that the USA grants equal status to followers of all religions. Washington suggested that America could be a type of Promised Land for Jews where they could “merit and enjoy the good will of the other inhabitants; while every one shall sit in safety under his own vine and fi g tree and there shall be none to make him afraid.” 66 However, there were also problems from the beginning. The Puritans’ dream of establishing a Christian outpost in the wilderness never died, and the image of building a city on a hill lived on in American political rhetoric, often within a Protestant Christian worldview. Even though the US Constitution forbade the establishment of a national church, powerful movements opposed the full implementation of religious pluralism and dreamed instead of “a Christian America,” which would unite a wide THE REIGN OF GOD AND CONSTANTINE’S DISPUTED LEGACY: RELIGIOUS... 137 range of American Protestants but which would be less hospitable to Catholics, Mormons, or, in some settings, Jews. 67 Not all were welcome in this vision: Protestant preachers attacked deism as a satanic foe leading to atheism and secularism, and they rejected Catholics as un-American. 68 In 1811 the US Supreme Court stated frankly: “We are a Christian people,” and this notion was repeated in various forms by later Supreme Courts, the Senate Judiciary Committee, Abraham Lincoln, and the US Congress. 69 Those who did not conform to the dominant Protestant culture were not fully accepted—or worse: Protestants frequently viewed Roman Catholics and Mormons as the biblical Amalekites, who were to be exterminated. 70 In the struggle for independence from Great Britain and establishing a new government, Americans rejected kings, but they transferred the ideal of a sacred empire to the new democracy, as they saw their mission to shape the kingdom of God on earth. H. Richard Niebuhr offered a classic description of the various stages of the Protestant vision of The Kingdom of God in America. 71 The founders of the USA boldly proclaimed that “all men are created equal” and established the right to religious freedom, but tragically these principles were never applied to enslaved African Americans. Despite the constitutional guarantee of the free exercise of religion, this right was never granted to enslaved Muslim African Americans, who faced severe punishment if they were caught practicing Islam. 72 Moreover, the God- given “Manifest Destiny” of the USA meant repeated attacks upon the people of the First Nations of the land, the Native Americans.

THE IRONY OF IT ALL: REINHOLD NIEBUHR Both Constantine’s reign as Roman emperor and the foundation of the USA were hailed as new beginnings, times of immense hope for the reign of God to be realized on earth. However, in each case the results brought benefi ts for some and new hardships for others. One of the most thoughtful theologians to refl ect on this paradox was the “tamed cynic” Reinhold Niebuhr, who warned that humans can do tremendous evil when they pretend to play the role of God in history. Niebuhr quotes one of the American founding fathers, John Adams, who warned Thomas Jefferson: “Power always thinks it has a great soul and vast views beyond the comprehension of the weak. And that it is doing God’s service when it is violating all His laws. Our passions, ambitions, avarice, love and resentment, etc., possess so much metaphysical subtlety 138 L.D. LEFEBURE and so much overpowering eloquence that they insinuate themselves into the understanding and the conscience and convert both to their party.” 73 Adams’s warning could be taken as a caution to the enthusiastic rhetoric that we have heard from both Eusebius of Caesarea and Ezra Stiles. Niebuhr comments: “The powers of human self-deception are seemingly endless.” 74 Niebuhr’s observations on the situation in 1952 fi nd new relevance today:

From the earliest days of its history to the present moment, there is a deep layer of Messianic consciousness in the mind of America. We never dreamed that we would have as much political power as we possess today; nor for that matter did we anticipate that the most powerful nation on earth would suffer such an ironic refutation of its dreams of mastering history. For our increased power related our will and purpose to a vaster and vaster entangle- ment with other wills and purposes, which made it impossible for any single will to prevail or any specifi c human goal of history easily to become the goal of all mankind. 75

Niebuhr notes the danger of fi nding “meaning” in the supposed historical destiny of any nation. His conclusion on the need for repentance and charity also echoes to the present:

The faith which appropriates the meaning in the mystery inevitably involves an experience of repentance for the false meanings which the pride of nations and cultures introduces into the pattern. Such repentance is the true source of charity; and we are more desperately in need of genuine charity than of more technocratic skills. 76

Precisely because Niebuhr was so astute in seeing the self-deception of others, it is all the more tragic that he did not vigorously protest against the lynching of African Americans during his lifetime. While Niebuhr did at times write against racial injustice, James Cone laments that Niebuhr also viewed the 1896 Supreme Court decision approving the doctrine of “separate but equal” education for white and black students as “a very good doctrine for its day,” and Niebuhr urged African Americans to have “patience” in implementing the 1954 Supreme Court decision that ended segregation in public schools. 77 Niebuhr refused to sign a petition proposed by Martin Luther King, Jr., asking President Eisenhower to protect African American children during the process of integration; Cone THE REIGN OF GOD AND CONSTANTINE’S DISPUTED LEGACY: RELIGIOUS... 139 laments, “Because Niebuhr identifi ed with white moderates in the South more than with their black victims, he could not really feel their suffering as his own.” 78 Cone notes the tragic linkage in “Christian America” between the cross on which Jesus died and the lynching tree on which African Americans were hanged:

The cross of Jesus and the lynching tree of black victims are not literally the same—historically or theologically. Yet these two symbols or images are closely linked to Jesus’ spiritual meaning for black and white life together in what historian Robert Handy has called “Christian America.” Blacks and whites are bound together in Christ by their brutal and beautiful encounter in this land. 79

René Girard has argued that from time primordial, humans have constructed unhealthy communities on the basis of a lynch mob, viewing certain persons as scapegoats but hiding the process from view. 80 Both the treatment of Jews in allegedly Christian empires and the treatment of African Americans in supposedly Christian America bear tragic witness to this insidious dynamic.

NOTES 1. C.S. Song, Jesus and the Reign of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993), 2. 2. Song, 262. 3. Lynn A. De Silva, The Problem of the Self in Buddhism and Christianity (New York: Barnes & Noble Books/Harper & Row Publishers, 1979), 130. 4. Paul F. Knitter, Introducing Theologies of Religions (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2002), 145. 5. Reinhold Niebuhr, The Children of Light and the Children of Darkness : A Vindication of Democracy and a Critique of Its Traditional Defense (1944; reprint, New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1972), ix. 6. For a recent overview, see The Cambridge Companion to the Age of Constantine , edited by Noel Lenski (revised ed.; Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2012). 7. John D. Roth, “Preface,” in John D. Roth, ed. Constantine Revisited : Leithart , Yoder , and the Constantinian Debate (Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications, 2013), xi. 8. Peter J. Leithart, Defending Constantine : The Twilight of an Empire and the Dawn of Christendom. (Downers, Grove, IL: Intervarsity Press, 2010); John D. Roth, ed. Constantine Revisited : Leithart , Yoder , and the Constantinian 140 L.D. LEFEBURE

Debate (Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications, 2013); James Carroll, Constantine ’ s Sword : The Church and the Jews : A History (Boston and New York: Houghton Miffl in Co., 2001). 9. Noel Lenski, “The Reign of Constantine,” in Noel Lenski, ed., The Cambridge Companion to the Age of Constantine (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 70–71. 10. Timothy D. Barnes, Constantine and Eusebius (Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press, 1981), 51–53, 247–48. 11. Barnes, Constantine and Eusebius , 53. 12. Henry Chadwick, The Church in Ancient Society : From Galilee to Gregory the Great (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 193. 13. Eusebius, Life of Constantine 3.15.1, trans. Averil Cameron and Stuart G. Hill (Oxford, UK: Clarendon Press, 1999), 127. 14. Eusebius, Life of Constantine 1.5.1; p. 69. 15. Eusebius, Life of Constantine 1.44.1; p. 87. 16. Eusebius, In Praise of Constantine 2.2; in H.A. Drake, In Praise of Constantine : A Historical Study and New Translation of Eusebius ’ Tricennial Orations (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1976), 85. 17. Eusebius, In Praise of Constantine , 2.4; p. 86. 18. Drake, “Impact of Constantine,” 121; David Potter, Constantine the Emperor (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 148–49. 19. Eusebius, The Church History , trans. Paul L. Maier (Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Publications, 2007), 10.5; p. 322. 20. Eusebius, Church History 10.5; p. 323. 21. Drake, “Impact of Constantine,” 122. 22. Potter, 149. 23. Lactantius, Divine Institutes , trans. Anthony Bowen and Peter Garnsey (Liverpool, UK: Liverpool University Press, 2003), 5.19.6; p. 320. 24. Lactantius, Divine Institutes 5.19.10, 11; p. 320. 25. Lactantius, Divine Institutes 5.19.13; p. 320. See also Drake, Praise of Constantine , 211. 26. Lactantius, Divine Institutes 5.19.17; p. 321. 27. Lactantius, Divine Institutes 5.19.22–23; p. 321. 28. Lactantius, Divine Institutes 5.20.7–8; p. 324. 29. Peter Garnsey, “Religious Toleration in Classical Antiquity,” in Persecution and Toleration , . ed. W.J. Shiels, Studies in Church History 21 (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 1984), 16. See also H.A. Drake, Constantine and the Bishops : The Politics of Intolerance (Baltimore and London: John Hopkins University Press, 2000), 211. 30. Lactantius, De Mortibus Persecutorum , ed. and trans. J.L. Creed (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984), 48:2; p. 71. 31. Lactantius, De Mortibus 48:5–6; pp. 71, 73. THE REIGN OF GOD AND CONSTANTINE’S DISPUTED LEGACY: RELIGIOUS... 141

32. Lactantius, De Mortibus 52:2; p. 77. 33. Eusebius, Life of Constantine , 3.57; Hermann Doerries, Constantine and Religious Liberty , trans. Roland H. Bainton (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1960), 45. 34. Leithart, 112. 35. Leithart, 113. 36. Barnes, Constantine and Eusebius , 224. 37. Robert M. Grant, From Augustus to Constantine : The Rise and Triumph of Christianity in the Roman World (1970; reprint, San Francisco: Harper & Row, Publishers, 1990), 238–39. 38. Optatus against the Donatists 3.3; quoted by H.A. Drake, “The Impact of Constantine on Christianity,” in Noel Lenski, ed., The Cambridge Companion to the Age of Constantine (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 131. 39. Grant, From Augustus to Constantine , 242. 40. Henry Chadwick, Church in Ancient Society , 191. 41. Daniel Boyarin, Border Lines : The Partition of Judaeo-Christianity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004); John Gager, “Did Jewish Christians See the Rise of Islam?” in Adam H. Becker and Annette Yoshiko Reed, eds., The Ways that Never Parted : Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Age. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2007), 361–72. 42. Oskar Skarsaune and Reidar Hvalvik, eds., Jewish Believers in Jesus : The Early Centuries (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 2007). 43. Eusebius, Life of Constantine 3.19.1; p. 129. 44. Eusebius, Life of Constantine 3.18.3; p. 128. 45. Carroll, Constantine ’ s Sword , 175. 46. Ambrose of Milan, Letter to Theodosius 40.8; in The Early church and the State , ed. Agnes Cunningham, trans. Michael Di Maio and Agnes Cunningham, Sources of Early Christian Thought (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1982), 90. 47. Carroll, Constantine ’ s Sword , 176. 48. Ambrose, Expositio Evangelii secundam Lucam ; Chadwick, Church in Ancient Society , 190. 49. Augustine, Enarrationes in Psalmos 93.19; Chadwick, Church in Ancient Society , 190. 50. Augustine, The City of God against the Pagans 4, 4, ed. and trans. R.W. Dyson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), p. 147. 51. Augustine, City of God 4.4; p. 148; Augustine is quoting Cicero, De Republica 3.14.24. 52. Paula Frederiksen, Augustine and the Jews : A Christian Defense of Jews and Judaism (New York: Doubleday, 2008). 142 L.D. LEFEBURE

53. Franklin T. Harkins, “Unwitting Witnesses: Jews and Judaism in the Thought of Augustine,” in Augustine and World Religions , ed. Brian Brown, John Doody, and Kim Paffenroth (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2008), 37–69. 54. Justinian, Novel 7.2.1; quoted by Chadwick, Church in Ancient Society , 613. 55. Justinian, Novel 6, preface; quoted by Chadwick, Church in Ancient Society , 613. 56. Justinian, Novel 146; cited by Chadwick, Church in Ancient Society , 614. See also J.W. Parkes, The Confl ict of the Church and the Synagogue : a Study of the Origins of Antisemitism (1934; reprint, Cleveland: World Publishing Co. and Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1961), 253. 57. J.W. Parkes, 246. 58. Parkes, Confl ict , 248. 59. Parkes, Confl ict , 249–50. 60. Parkes, Confl ict , 254. In looking to the French Revolution for the fi rst liberation of the Jews, Parkes neglects to mention the developments in seventeenth- century Holland or North America. 61. Ezra Stiles, “The United States Elevated to Honor and Glory.” http://www. christianheritagemins.org/articles/Election_sermon_Stiles.htm . 62. Ernest Lee Tuveson, Redeemer Nation : The Idea of America ’s Millennial Role (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1968, reprint, 1980). 63. Stephen H. Webb, “American Providence, American Violence,” in From Jeremiad to Jihad : Religion , Violence , and America , ed. John D. Carlson and Jonathan H. Ebel, (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2012), 91. 64. Roger Williams, The Bloody Tenent of Persecution , ed. Richard Groves (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 2001); Edwin S. Gaustad, Roger Williams. (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2005), 93–98. 65. Gaustad 98. 66. Jonathan D. Sarna, American Judaism : A History (New Have & London: Yale University Press, 2004), 39. 67. Robert T. Handy, A Christian America : Protestant Hopes and Historical Realities (2nd ed., rev. and enlarged; New York and Oxford; Oxford University Press, 1984), 16. 68. Mark S. Massa, Anti-Catholicism in America : The Last Acceptable Prejudice (New York: Crossroad Publishing Co., 2003), 18–39. 69. Samuel P. Huntington, Who Are We ? The Challenges to America ’ s National Identity ( New York : Simon & Schuster , 2004 ), 98. 70. John Corrigan, “New Israel: Biblical Exhortations to Religious Violence,” in John D. Carlson and Jonathan H. Ebel, eds. From Jeremiad to Jihad : Religion , Violence , and America (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2012), 111–24. See also Eran Shalev, American Zion : The Old Testament as a Political Text from the Revolution to the Civil War (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2013). THE REIGN OF GOD AND CONSTANTINE’S DISPUTED LEGACY: RELIGIOUS... 143

71. H. Richard Niebuhr, The Kingdom of God in America (Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press, 1988). 72. Sylviane A. Diouf, Servants of Allah : African Muslims Enslaved in the Americas (New York and London: New York University Press, 1998). 73. Reinhold Niebuhr, The Irony of American History (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 2008), 21. 74. Niebuhr, 21. 75. Niebuhr, 69. 76. Niebuhr, 150. 77. James H. Cone, The Cross and the Lynching Tree (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2013), 38–39. 78. Cone, Cross and Lynching Tree , 39. 79. Cone, Cross and Lynching Tree , 165. 80. René Girard, Violence and the Sacred , trans. Patrick Gregory (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1977); idem, I See Satan Fall Like Lightning , trans. James G. Williams (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books/Ottawa, Canada: Novalis, Leominster, UK: Gracewing, 2001). CHAPTER 7

The US Bishops’ Campaign for Religious Freedom During the 2012 Presidential Election Year: A Critical Analysis

Dennis M. Doyle

In the USA, during the months leading up to the 2012 presidential election, Catholic bishops launched a campaign designed to defend religious freedom against the encroachment of the federal government. The particular focus was the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act (PPACA), the universal health care legislation commonly called Obamacare. The point of controversy was the proposal to mandate that employer-provided health insurance include coverage for contraception. Some religious institutions were to be exempt from this requirement, but the defi nition of which institutions qualifi ed as religious was narrow. Parish and diocesan offi ces, for example, would be exempt, but Catholic universities and hospitals that employed and served many non-Catholics would not be. Also not exempted were Catholic and other religious employers who owned small businesses but whose consciences could be violated by the PPACA’s requirements.

D. M. Doyle ( ) University of Dayton, Dayton , OH , USA

The US bishops sponsored a two-week effort called Fortnight for Freedom that ended on July 4, which for the USA is Independence Day. 1 The bishops issued a document that claimed that the religious freedom of US citizens was under attack. They called for various activities that would educate Catholics and strengthen their resolve. A particular focal point was a call for the study of Vatican II’s Dignitatis Humanae , the Declaration on Religious Freedom issued in 1965. The bishops published selections from this document along with refl ections for contemporary applications on the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB) web-site. 2 The bishops’ main message was that the proposed implementation of the PPACA constituted an attack on the religious freedom of Catholics. They portrayed the US government as overstepping the boundaries of its own authority by mandating that Catholic institutions, as employers, engage in activities that violate their own religious principles. In addition to contraception itself, the bishops claimed that some of the contraceptive methods to be covered were potentially abortifacient. They also emphasized that the mandate counted sterilization as a method of contraception. In their communications materials, the bishops consistently linked these three elements together: contraception, sterilization, and abortion- causing drugs. 3 In this chapter I will argue that in their campaign to defend religious freedom, the US bishops were defending important, valid principles regarding authority in the relationship between churches and the state; however, by allowing contraception to function as the major point of dispute, they thereby allowed issues about authority within the Catholic Church to arise that competed for attention with and even overshadowed questions about the state overstepping its boundaries. This strategy created a tension with the bishops’ appeal to Dignitatis Humanae , a document that places an emphatic emphasis upon the importance of the conscience of the individual in religious matters. Also, the bishops issuing what sounded like a partisan battle cry against the Obama administration in an election year created more points of tension with the teachings and spirit of Vatican II that served to further cloud the critically important issues that they were trying to defend.

IMPORTANT AND VALID PRINCIPLES Underlying the key claims of the bishops is a point near and dear to the Jesuit John Courtney Murray (1904–1967), whose infl uence on the Declaration of Religious Freedom was direction-setting. Murray affi rmed THE US BISHOPS’ CAMPAIGN FOR RELIGIOUS FREEDOM DURING THE 2012... 147 strongly the relative autonomy of the secular world as long as it was a secular world that knew its own limitations and that would support and foster the ideals and visions of those who inhabited it. 4 It was not to be an atheistic secularism that would assert its own ideological values as it suppressed anything that sounded traditional or religious. As a kind of shorthand, we might speak about two types of secular government. One type, which we will call the radical secular state, claims its own fl attened- down version of equality and human rights to be absolute and then offers what it takes to be a benign tolerance of various religious or traditional groups. The other type of secular government, which we will call the self- limiting secular state, realizes its own limitations as it tries to facilitate not only the co-existence but also the mutual thriving of various religious and non-religious groupings. The self-limiting secular state is the type that Murray favored and that the US bishops were defending. Seen through this lens, the bishops’ claim that the government should not mandate behaviors that violate the principles of a religious institution as well as their claim that what constitutes a religious institution should not be narrowly defi ned also include an affi rmation of the secular state when understood as being of the self-limiting type. On this ideal level, I affi rm the bishops’ claims and concerns. As a general rule, a secular government should not mandate activities that violate the conscience of religious individuals or institutions. The basic principle that the bishops were defending can be found expressed in several documents of Vatican II. Gaudium et Spes , for example, states:

It is only right … that at all times and in all places, the Church should have true freedom to preach the faith, to teach her social doctrine, to exercise her role freely among men, and also to pass moral judgment in those matters which regard public order when the fundamental rights of a person or the salvation of souls require it. (#76)

We also fi nd in Lumen Gentium :

… it must be admitted that the temporal sphere is governed by its own principles, since it is rightly concerned with the interests of this world. But that ominous doctrine which attempts to build a society with no regard whatever for religion, and which attacks and destroys the religious liberty of its citizens, is rightly to be rejected. (#36) 148 D.M. DOYLE

Dignitatis Humane adds:

Among the things that concern the good of the Church and indeed the welfare of society here on earth—things therefore that are always and everywhere to be kept secure and defended against all injury—this certainly is preeminent, namely, that the Church should enjoy that full measure of freedom which her care for the salvation of men requires. This is a sacred freedom, because the only-begotten Son endowed with it the Church which He purchased with His blood. Indeed it is so much the property of the Church that to act against it is to act against the will of God. The freedom of the Church is the fundamental principle in what concerns the relations between the Church and governments and the whole civil order. In human society and in the face of government the Church claims freedom for herself in her character as a spiritual authority, established by Christ the Lord, upon which there rests, by divine mandate, the duty of going out into the whole world and preaching the Gospel to every creature. The Church also claims freedom for herself in her character as a society of men who have the right to live in society in accordance with the precepts of the Christian faith. (#13)

One point to be noted in the aforementioned passages, one that the US bishops stressed in their campaign, is that religious freedom is portrayed not simply as the freedom to worship in a particular way but also includes the freedom to live out the Christian faith within the context of society. For their teaching that the religious freedom of the Catholic Church should not be violated by a government overstepping its own boundaries, the bishops could fi nd plenty of material to back themselves up in the Vatican II documents.

CONTRACEPTION AND CATHOLIC AUTHORITY Principles that stand as solid on the ideal level, however, can become messy in areas of practical application. Since Paul VI’s encyclical Humanae Vitae in 1968, in the USA as well as in some other countries, there has been a widespread rejection of Paul VI’s condemnation of artifi cial contraception by the majority of Catholics. It was the fi rst instance in modern history of widespread public disagreement with an offi cial church teaching by large numbers of lay people. It continues to be the point of offi cial teaching about which the largest number of Catholics disagree. For this reason, contraception has stood as the iconic moral issue for raising questions about the relationship between the Catholic Church’s own authority and the consciences of Catholic lay people. THE US BISHOPS’ CAMPAIGN FOR RELIGIOUS FREEDOM DURING THE 2012... 149

Some bishops as well as conservative politicians held, as Catholic con- gressman Rick Santorum expressed it, that “this is not about birth control; it’s about the fi rst amendment.” 5 Archbishop William Lori, chairman of the USCCB Ad Hoc Committee on Religious Liberty, claimed that birth control just happened to be the issue over which the dispute about religious liberty arose. Lori claimed further that the bishops did not pick this fi ght, but that it was forced upon them by the Obama administration. He thereby implied that either the particular matter at stake is completely irrelevant to the religious liberty debate, or, if relevant, that contraception belongs to the type of church teaching that can never be compromised, as if it were on the same level of moral gravity as abortion. Throughout the offi cial materials provided for the Fortnight for Freedom as well as the public interviews with bishops, I have found no attempt to distinguish contraception from abortion concerning either gravity of matter or level of authority with which the teaching is stated. One can fi nd many examples of contraception, abortive methods, and sterilization being lumped together. 6 On the one hand, one can argue in favor of the bishops that, on a pastoral level, there can be good reasons in many situations not always to make an issue about levels of moral gravity and of teaching authority. Francis Sullivan had made the point, for example, that a negative effect of focusing on the question of which teachings are infallible and which are not is that the non-infallible teachings can come across as being optional. 7 Even the most passionate defenders of the ability of Catholics to disagree responsibly with certain church teachings can recognize the diffi culty in such an implication. And even if a particular teaching is relatively less central to the core of the Christian faith and is taught with a lesser degree of authority, that does not mean that such a teaching is thereby less true. Catholics are expected to give a religious submission of mind and will to ordinary church teaching. There are pastoral moments when it can be the better course to say that church teaching is church teaching, so let us try to embrace it. On the other hand, however, in the particular case of a religious freedom campaign that involved public political engagement, not attending to the relative gravity of the matter and the level of church teaching when it comes to contraception and abortion was highly problematic. Had abortion, or in this case the coverage of abortifacient methods, been the main focus of the health care controversy, the uncompromising position of the bishops would have been more understandable to Catholics as well as to the general public. Although not without its own complexities and inner 150 D.M. DOYLE

Catholic pluralities, Catholic teaching on abortion does not generate the same level of widespread disagreement as does Catholic teaching on contraception. Whether pro-life or pro-choice, most people can acknowledge that Catholic institutions should not be made to provide the funding for abortions. In contrast to abortion, almost no one would argue that artifi - cial contraception involves the taking of an innocent life. Almost no one would argue that artifi cial contraception should be made illegal. Almost no one would claim that Catholics who practice artifi cial contraception are thereby not Catholics in good standing. Even if it is true that abortion and artifi cial contraception are both morally wrong in an interconnected way, implying an equivalence between the two either in moral gravity or in the level of authority at work in church teaching is misleading. The differences are obvious. The bishops’ grounding of their uncompromising stance on contraception on the principle of religious freedom is thus left wide open to critical questioning due to the pervasive and well-known level of disagreement with the particular teaching at stake in particular this case. The diffi culty becomes clear when one studies Dignitatis Humanae , for that document grounds religious freedom in the dignity of the individual and the inviolability of the individual’s conscience. If one focuses on the freedom of the individual, and if a majority of Catholics accept and use artifi cial birth control, the question arises: whose religious freedom does the health care mandate violate? From an inner Catholic standpoint, there are many ways of treating this question dismissively. Dignitatis Humanae may begin with the religious freedom of the individual, but it does not end there. Although it gives its most fundamental support to the dignity of each individual, it is not an individualistic document. There are also other important concerns expressed that qualify individual freedom and balance it with a recognition of the freedom of various social groupings and institutions. Individual freedom must be complemented by responsibility. Catholics must follow their consciences, but their consciences are to be formed with proper attention to church teaching. The freedom of religious institutions must also be respected. In the Catholic Church, the bishops are the leaders, teachers, and sanctifi ers. It is the bishop’s prerogative to express what the teaching of the Catholic Church is. Dignitatis Humanae expressly states that its teaching on religious freedom is meant to be applied to the civil society and is not meant to alter Catholic claims about truth and the Church. The document states that the THE US BISHOPS’ CAMPAIGN FOR RELIGIOUS FREEDOM DURING THE 2012... 151 teaching on religious freedom “leaves untouched traditional Catholic doctrine on the moral duty of men and societies toward the true religion and toward the one Church of Christ” (#1). 8 It is fair to say that, in contrast with secular views, the religious freedom of the individual’s conscience is more about not being coerced to follow a particular religion than about self-determining what that religion’s teaching should be. When entering the Catholic Church, some varieties of what the general public might consider to be religious freedom need to be checked at the door. For the Catholic, religious freedom has a somewhat paradoxical nature. It is something like what Robert Frost was talking about when he remarked that for the poet and the use of forms: “You have freedom when you’re easy in your harness.” 9 Such a Catholic reading of Dignitatis Humanae , however, is not the only perspective available in the public sphere. Nor is the only alternative a reading of the document from a radical secularist perspective that would simply impose the values of the state on everyone. Dignitatis Humanae can be given an honest reading by people who support a self-limiting secular state but who do not read the document from within a Catholic stance. One can read it in a manner that retains a strong focus on the religious freedom of the individual whether prior to or after deciding to belong to a particular religion. For example, the document teaches:

This Vatican Council declares that the human person has a right to religious freedom. This freedom means that all men are to be immune from coercion on the part of individuals or of social groups and of any human power, in such wise that no one is to be forced to act in a manner contrary to his own beliefs, whether privately or publicly, whether alone or in association with others, within due limits. (#2)

From a Catholic perspective, one can argue that this passage applies to an individual’s right to be a Catholic and to act in accordance with Catholic teaching in society. From the point of view of a self-limiting secular state, however, an issue like contraception raises the possibility of interpreting religious freedom in a way that always applies as much to individuals as it does to religious institutions. And a religious institution can be interpreted as being comprised not only of the community leaders but also of the people who make it up. It becomes relevant in this perspective that the health care mandate does not force any individual to use contraception. In this perspective, when it comes to the case of the 152 D.M. DOYLE mandate for providing coverage for contraception, the question of whose religious freedom is being violated here cannot be easily dismissed. The divide between Catholic bishops and many Catholic lay people on the issue of contraception opens up a huge gap through which government intervention can potentially rush through. The objection that the bishops are in this case the “owners” and the “employers” who must not be forced to violate their consciences has serious weaknesses. First, overreliance on the “employer” model serves to underscore the problem that the religious authority-freedom model has broken down in this case. Attempts to base arguments on religious freedom on traditional religious principles are undercut by virtually replacing a church model with a business model. Second, the objection projects a paternalistic image of businesses that comes off as if employers simply provide for their otherwise helpless children rather than offer benefi ts as part of a compensation package that the employees earn. Third, in a society in which most insurance plans, including those in many Catholic institutions, have been including coverage for contraception for decades, the bishops come off as the odd men out who are trying to force their non-Catholic as well as Catholic employees to toe the line regarding socially marginal views.

PARTISAN POLITICS In their monolithic stance against those whom they explicitly portrayed as attackers of the Catholic Church, the bishops may themselves have fallen short of the mark in implementing the full range teachings of Dignitatis Humanae and other Vatican II documents. Gaudium et Spes , for example, stated that “All Christians … must recognize the legitimacy of different opinions with regard to temporal solutions, and respect citizens, who, even as a group, defend their points of view by honest methods” (#75). Rather than publicly acknowledge the honesty and integrity of their opponents, however, the bishops portrayed them as consciously intending to attack the Catholic Church. Yet those who wanted to implement the original mandate had their own positive agenda that they labeled “women’s health.” 10 In my judgment, this label functioned for mandate supporters in a way that paralleled the bishops’ use of the label “religious freedom.” That is, “women’s health” was used as a political trump card that was supposed to end all further conversation. Still, and again in a way that parallels the bishops, there were high ideals and sincere concerns that underlay the efforts of those who promoted THE US BISHOPS’ CAMPAIGN FOR RELIGIOUS FREEDOM DURING THE 2012... 153 the original mandate. Concerns about women’s health are deeply linked with concerns about women’s rights and human rights. One does not have to imagine the mandate promoters sitting around in a political war room plotting attacks against the Catholic Church to be able to grasp something of their strong positive motivations, even if one fundamentally and vehemently disagrees with them. One does not have to portray the Obama administration as a radical secularist state imposing its own values on its citizens. It is not only more charitable but also more accurate to portray those who perceive themselves as supporters of women’s health and in that sense human rights as dignifi ed citizens whose values need to be respected. In this scenario, the Obama administration can be interpreted as trying to mediate between those who perceive themselves as the supporters of women’s health and the concerns of the Catholic Church. The administration could thus be basically characterized as representing a self- limiting secular state. In an atmosphere of mutual respect, the bishops could have shown themselves willing to compromise for the sake of the common good. Instead, by engaging in an ideological battle on the level of exchanging damning labels, the bishops increased their own vulnerability to having the label “enemies of women’s health” stick. Many people of goodwill were left asking themselves what happened to the bishops’ traditional support for universal health care. Yet the main thrust of Dignitatis Humanae taken as a whole is that religious freedom is for everyone, and that the Church, now recognizing this, supports the existence of a secular state that does not constitutionally privilege one religion or worldview over another. Against the historical background of the Church’s previous support for countries with Catholicism as the offi cial religion not allowing the public practice of those of other faiths, one of the main points of Dignitatis Humanae is that the Catholic Church must come to respect the religious freedom of others. The document thus situates its claims about the Catholic Church’s own right to religious freedom within a dynamic framework that acknowledges a complex interplay between churches and the state as well as between both of these and the individual’s conscience. Read within its historical context, the document is at least as much about the Catholic Church coming to recognize and respect the rights of others as it is a defense of its own freedom. Its references to Christ and the apostles do say that they spoke out against governing powers that set themselves against God’s will; they stress even more, however, how Jesus and the Church accomplish their work not through coercion but by giving witness to the truth in word and in deed. 154 D.M. DOYLE

By focusing their efforts so single-mindedly on defending the freedom of Catholic and other religious institutions from attack, the bishops lacked the broader range of concerns as well as the humble, self-critical, and open spirit of dialogue and engagement that characterized Dignitatis Humanae . Catholics who give a close and thoughtful reading to Dignitatis Humanae , rather than simply reading the excerpts and guiding refl ection posted on the USCCB web-site, may be more inclined to question why the bishops’ campaign for religious freedom did not refl ect the complex dynamics and open-minded tone of that document rather than issue a call to arms against the actions of the government.

WHAT KIND OF AUTHORITY? By making no distinction between contraception and abortion, and thereby implying that just as abortion is wrong, so also is contraception, case closed, the bishops exuded a type of authority in which all teachings are of equal weight and there is no room for disagreement. Their declaration that birth control was not the issue was not publicly convincing. The main point of contention was thus an issue concerning which the authority of the bishops appears formal and coercive rather than as effective and real. In other words, it is a matter about which a majority of their own people neither agree nor obey. By trying to ignore it, the bishops allowed it to become the elephant in the room. And in the 2012 election year, that elephant clearly symbolized one particular political party. The style and tone of the bishops’ approach in 2012 contrasted with that evidenced in their 1986 letter, Economic Justice for All . There they made a distinction concerning which teachings were to be taken with what level of authority. They said …

We believe that the recommendations in our letter are reasonable and balanced. In analyzing the economy, we reject ideological extremes and start from the fact that ours is a “mixed” economy, the product of a long history of reform and adjustment. We know that some of our specifi c recommendations are controversial. As bishops, we do not claim to make these prudential judgments with the same kind of authority that marks our decla- rations of principle. But we feel obliged to teach by example how Christians can undertake concrete analysis and make specifi c judgments on economic issues. The church’s teachings cannot be left at the level of appealing gen- eralities. (#20) THE US BISHOPS’ CAMPAIGN FOR RELIGIOUS FREEDOM DURING THE 2012... 155

In contrast, the US bishops in 2012 did not so emphasize the limitations of their own authority in matters that had politically partisan implications. Their words had a more defensive and even an alarmist character. Had the bishops been willing to distinguish clearly between contraception and abortion, and then to put their efforts into opposing the inclusion of methods that are potentially abortifacient, important elements of the controversy would have emerged more clearly. Many more Catholics and others would have more fervently rallied around the bishops’ defense of religious freedom. Important points would have emerged with more strength and clarity, such as that Catholic institutions should not be forced to pay for abortion; that Catholic institutions include not only diocesan and parish offi ces but also hospitals and universities; that Catholic rights include not only freedom of worship but also contributing as religious actors in the larger society; and that a secular government should act in the service of religious individuals and institutions and not impose secularist views and values on its citizens. Focusing on contraception, however, put the question of the Catholic Church’s own authority into play as fully as the question of the authority of the secular state. Religious freedom raises extremely complex issues, and this author does not pretend to have all the answers. Catholic leaders are right in being willing to go to the wall over the matter of religious freedom. In my judgment, however, going to the wall over contraception served more to block rather than to assist the full gestation of the truth about religious freedom.

NOTES 1. For current campaign information, see also http://www.usccb.org/issues- and-action/religious-liberty/fortnight-for-freedom/ . 2. http://www.usccb.org/issues-and-action/religious-liberty/foundational- documents-on-religious-liberty.cfm . 3. http://www.usccb.org/issues-and-action/religious-liberty/hhs-mandate/ index.cfm . 4. See John Courtney Murray’s “The Declaration on Religious Freedom: Its Deeper Signifi cance” in America (23 April 1966), 592–93. See also Murray’s We Hold These Truths : Catholic Refl ections on the American Proposition (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1960; reissued in 2005). 5. The First Amendment to the US Constitution reads: Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of 156 D.M. DOYLE

the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances. 6. Among various articles that group these items together are: “Twelve Things Everyone Should Know About the “Contraceptive Mandate”; also, “Contraception, Sterilization, and Abortion”; also, “Why We Need the Health Care Conscience Rights Act.” These and other examples can be found at http://www.usccb.org/issues-and-action/religious-liberty . 7. See Francis A. Sullivan, S.J., Magisterium : Teaching Authority in the Catholic Church (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1983) 171–73. 8. Early statements of the bishops’ ad hoc committee, no longer available on the USCCB website, make reference to the lay trustee controversy in early nineteenth-century US Catholic history. The resolution of this controversy confi rmed that the bishops, not lay trustees, are the owners of all Catholic properties and possessions. On the lay trustee controversy see Patrick Carey, People , Priests and Prelates : Ecclesiastical Democracy and the Tensions of Trusteeism (1987) or Carey’s Catholics in America (2008). 9. This often quoted statement is said to have come from a newspaper interview in 1954, but I have found no precise citation. 10. See Secretary of the US Department of Health and Human Services, Kathleen Sebelius, “Celebrating National Women’s Health Week”, or one of her many messages to women in popular news sources, http://www.womenshealth- mag.com/health/kathleen-sebelius-message . PART IV

Europe CHAPTER 8

Confessional Belonging and National Identity: A Case Study of Serbia, Croatia, and Germany

Vladimir Latinovic

It is diffi cult to comprehend that at the dawn of the twenty-fi rst century wars are still being fought over religious, or confessional, identity and yet, despite economical, technological, and cultural progress, as well as the advancements achieved through ecumenical and interreligious dialogue, the trouble generated by religious confl icts has actually increased and is still a signifi cant concern. 1 In this chapter, I wish to examine the relationship between the confessional and national identity by analyzing the conditions surrounding one particular confl ict: the war fought in Croatia from 1991 until 1995. Since the aim of this chapter is to present a theological perspective on elements of this particular war, no general explanation of other religiously fueled, violent confl icts in the world can be offered. The Croatian war of the late twentieth century is certainly not unique for this kind of inter-confessional confl ict, 2 although it is the most recent of a string of centuries-long events. The French Wars of Religion (1562–

V. Latinovic () Faculty of Catholic Theology, University of Tübingen, Germany

1598), the Thirty Years’ War (1618–1648), and the confl ict in Northern Ireland (1968–1998) have all erupted due to the pressure of trying to conform confessional uniformity onto evolving national identity. The so- called Good Friday Agreement marked the beginning of the end of the worst excesses of this confl ict in 1998, although in Ireland painful divisions remain to this day. 3 The war in Croatia therefore is a useful case study, as a contemporaneous, confessional-fueled war that has relevance to our own time. Furthermore, the war in Croatia’s distinctiveness from the other Yugoslav wars demands further query because of its character as an inter-confessional confl ict. 4 The war in Slovenia was not religiously motivated; it lasted only for ten days and it had a relatively small number of casualties. 5 The war in Bosnia, fought in 1992–1995 between Bosniaks united with the Bosnian Croats against the local Serbs, was without a doubt motivated by religious reasons, 6 but these reasons were more inter-religious than inter-confessional in their nature, which makes this confl ict only partly relevant for our topic. 7 Last, the war fought in Kosovo (1998–1999) was unrelated to religious belonging and was instead a war between two separate nations, the Serbs and Kosovo-Albanians. There are two main questions I am seeking to address in this chapter. The fi rst relates directly to the Croatian war: how do two traditionally Christian nations such as the Croats and Serbs justify mutual hatred and commit barbaric acts of violence against each other? The second invites speculation into confl icting confessional effects: how do some other nations, like the Germans, who are also divided across confessional lines, manage to maintain respect and tolerance? The Germans offer a complementary contrast to the Serbs and Croatians, on the grounds that both former Yugoslavia and Germany were conceptualized as nation-states. Furthermore the citizenship, for both countries, was based on the ius soli and national belonging on the ius sanguinis principle. 8 Throughout most of the twentieth century, both Yugoslavia and Germany had similar percentages of confessional diversity, yet they managed their confessional diversity differently: Yugoslavia broke apart in a violent confl ict, and Germany reunited, functioning until today as a stable democratic country. 9 A brief look at the history of the Serbian- Croatian confl ict provides part of the explanation for such different outcomes for the two countries. CONFESSIONAL BELONGING AND NATIONAL IDENTITY: A CASE STUDY... 161

HISTORICAL OVERVIEW OF THE SERBO-CROATIAN CONFLICTS The war in Croatia, which took place from 1991 to 1995 and involved native Serb and Croat populations with some unfortunate involvement from several outside factors, 10 was a part of the so-called Yugoslav wars, which resulted in high numbers of injury, death, and displacement, 11 alongside the ruin of an economy of what was once one of the most prosperous of Eastern European countries. 12 Today, two decades after this confl ict has ceased, the countries involved are still struggling to repair the material damage of this war. Prospects of repairing the subsidiary damage to national structures appear even grimmer. Currently, Serbs constitute only 4 % of Croatia’s population, down from the pre-war 12 %. Over 200,000 of them were expelled (ethnically cleansed) from Croatia just during one military operation (Operation “Oluja”), and this number rises to over 350,000 for the period of the entire war. 13 Population numbers of course always impact national structures. As severe as these percentages may appear, the war of the 1990s was but an extension of a longer and larger religiously motivated confl ict. During World War II, within the territory of Yugoslavia, a civil war was raging, because Serbs and Croats chose to support opposite sides in the larger confl ict. 14 The Croatian government’s motto during this war was that one-third of the Serbs are supposed to be killed, one-third expelled, and one-third forcibly converted to Catholicism. 15 This motto unfortunately became a truism with over 135,000 Serbs, Jews, and Romani people were murdered in the concentration camp of Jasenovac alone, 16 and many of them (especially children) were forced to accept Catholicism. Due to this violent proselytism, it becomes evident that violence against Serbs during World War II was religiously motivated. If we move back in time to World War I, we fi nd a similar situation. Large numbers of Croats (among them also the later Yugoslav president Tito), 17 fought on the side of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and Germany against Serbia and its allies. This war had even more devastating consequences for Serbia’s population than the last Yugoslav War (the one in the 1990s) and World War II combined, especially in terms of human casualties. During this confl ict, Serbia lost more than one million of its inhabitants (27 % of its entire population at the time, which was 60 % of Serbia’s male population). Although most casualties were infl icted by the 162 V. LATINOVIC

Austro-Hungarian and German army, Croatians were also incorporated in these troops and they consequently bore partial guilt for the Serbian tragedy. While toxic rivalry of this kind would be somewhat understandable between two nations of different cultures, political systems or even geographical locations, this particular rivalry is not very easy to understand. Croatia and Serbia can hardly be conceptualized as separate nations because they share the same language, the same Slavic origin, a large majority of the same common names and surnames and (although they are often reticent to admit it) pretty much same mentality. The main motive for the animosity between them is their confessional belonging: the only distinctive feature that divides Croats and Serbs is that the former are Roman Catholics and the later are Orthodox. Let us look at how national identity is formed in both of these nations and how this is connected with confessional identity.

FORMATION OF THE NATIONAL IDENTITY IN SERBIA AND CROATIA To understand the roots of the confl ict between Serbs and Croats we need to understand how their national identity fi rst came to being and at what point they stopped seeing each other as units of one “nation”. 18 One method to achieve this is to isolate factors that later infl uenced the formation of separate religious and national identities. It is misleading to blame the post-communist emancipation of national identity that occurred in the 1990s as the root of this division 19 ; likewise, it is misleading to accuse the emancipation of the role of religion and the church in the social and political lives of Eastern Europeans. 20 The inclusion of faith in the formation of national identity in Serbia and Croatia goes much deeper. In Serbia, the bond between religion and nation reaches as far as back to the time of the Ottoman occupation (fourteenth to nineteenth centuries), when the Serbian Orthodox church kept the nucleus of national identity and the idea of national liberation alive. 21 The church’s close association with the Serbian resistance against Ottoman rule led to the idea that belonging to the Serbian Orthodox church was inextricably linked to the Serbian national identity. Identifying oneself as a Serb while not belonging to the Orthodox church was from that point impossible or, at best, an extremely rare occurrence. This bond holds true for modern Serbia, even to the extent where atheists claim to be Orthodox Christians, CONFESSIONAL BELONGING AND NATIONAL IDENTITY: A CASE STUDY... 163 recognizing the faith element as a critical component of their national identities. For a large part of the Serbian population, being Orthodox has nothing to do with personal belief or attending church services, but is reduced to the formal observation of customs and practices inherited from their forbearers. In these cases, the religious affi liation only serves to support and guard national and personal identity. Just as the Orthodox attest religious affi liation, self-identifying as Orthodox, so too for many Croatians Roman Catholicism has been reduced from a faith to a national marker. Historically, the confessional division for Serbs and Croats started before the East-West Schism of 1054, under the rule of Prince Branimir, when Croatia, approximately in 879, came under the ecclesiastical jurisdiction of Rome. Some ten years earlier, through the skillful diplomatic action of Saints Cyril and Methodius, Serbia had come under the jurisdiction of Constantinople. 22 The division at the time was not as important as it is today because of the simple fact that the Church then was still united. Only after the great schism of the eleventh century and the fi nal separation of eastern and Western churches, which had been cemented through the invasion of Constantinople in the Fourth Crusade (1202–1204), did confessional belonging begin to matter for the two “nations.” Although there are still some isolated examples in the thirteenth century of Serbian kings receiving their crowns from the hands of Roman pontiffs, 23 these events are evidence not so much of allegiance to Rome as much as exceptions conditioned by the internal and external political factors. This ecclesial division widened through the period of enslavement which followed, during which both of these countries belonged to different empires: Serbia to the Ottoman Empire and Croatia to the Austro-Hungarian. After this period ended, individuals from Serbia and Croatia started thinking about reunifi cation, and this was how Yugoslavia eventually came to being. At the Paris Peace Conference (1919–1920) which ended the First World War, Serbia, as one of the victor states, was given the opportunity to expand its own borders and create so-called Great Serbia. Instead of doing this, Serbia selfl essly formed the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes, which was later renamed to Yugoslavia. 24 In this newly formed kingdom, Serbia retained a dominant role and all the citizens of other nations were, at least informally, considered second-class citizens. They possessed less power and infl uence in government and other cultural structures. 164 V. LATINOVIC

Serbian domination translated into benefi ts for the Serbian Orthodox church. Through a special law, introduced in the mid-1920s, Orthodoxy became de facto a state religion. At the time, nearly 40 % of countries’ population were committed Roman Catholics. For them it was impossible to embrace this new national identity because that would involve identifying with a confession different from their own. Instead Catholics began to organize their own national movements, which gradually undermined the stability of the country, and essentially hurt Yugoslavia’s unity. Thus ethnic nationalism, which had its source in religious oppression, escalated to acts of violence and what today would be termed terrorism—ultimately resulting in the 1934 assassination of the Yugoslavian King Alexander Karadjordjevic in Marseilles, who was of Serbian descent. There were several other incidents that followed and while powerful Orthodox Serbs and Catholic Croats fought each other for control of the country, the dissatis- faction of the common people with the offi cial politics grew stronger and with it the attraction of the communist option. The communist movement had been waiting for its chance to seize power and the opportunity presented itself in the form of the Second World War. 25 World War II on Yugoslavian soil, as mentioned earlier, was not only a world war between the Axis and Allies but a civil war between Serbs and Croats. After the war had ended in 1945, a second Yugoslavia was formed as a communist country dominated by Serbian politicians. 26 Serbian claims to political authority after World War II evolved out of the same conditions for Serbian dominance after First World War; the Croats had again managed to lend their support to the defeated side. Hence, after the Second World War, Croats were indirectly “punished” for their crimes by being neglected and underrepresented at almost all levels of government. As for the Yugoslav national identity during the period of communist rule, this identity was based mostly on the ius soli principle: Serbs and Croats were called to overcome their national division and accept a new Yugoslav national identity, which many of them did. As for religious identity, this time religion was not as much tolerated as it was suppressed. Communist government identifi ed religious and confessional belonging as one of the main reasons for national tensions, so it worked hard to destroy religious sentiment and practice. Inadvertently, this suppression of religion had the opposite effect and exacerbated tensions on both sides. The act of suppression resulted in bonding religious identity even more strongly to national belonging; the fact that exercising both religious and national identities had to take place underground meant that neither CONFESSIONAL BELONGING AND NATIONAL IDENTITY: A CASE STUDY... 165 could be controlled by the state, or even by the church. Consequently, unhealthy religious practices as well as overemphasized nationalist feelings developed, and these ultimately escalated into war. The question lingers whether the post–World War II Yugoslavia would have been more successful if both religious and national feelings had not been suppressed by the communist regime in such a drastic manner. One could of course blame religious and confessional divisions for all the problems in this country, except that there are numerous examples of other countries consisting of more than one confession that retain a common national identity, seemingly uninfl uenced by religious belief. As already mentioned a good example for this is Germany, which has since the late nineteenth century lived without major turbulence in its national identity although it consists of several different confessions, the two largest being Roman Catholics and Lutheran. Let us briefl y look at how Germany has managed to avoid such confl icts.

CONFESSIONAL BELONGING AND NATIONAL IDENTITY IN GERMANY The confessional division on the territory which today makes modern Germany started with the birth of the Reformation in the beginning of the sixteenth century. This created a second Christian confession and divided the once relatively homogeneous Catholic population into two parts: one part built a confessional identity in opposition to the Roman Catholic church, the other part remaining faithful to Rome. Shortly thereafter, the situation escalated, and confl ict commenced between the two groups. This confl ict ended with the signing of the Peace of Augsburg (1555), which established a principle of religious truce based on limited tolerance between Catholics and Lutherans and laid the legal framework for the co-existence of two religious confessions. The heart of the treaty was the principle cuius regio eius religio (whose realm, his religion), which enabled states’ princes to select one of the two confessions. Unfortunately, religious confl icts resumed approximately half a century later in form of the Thirty Years’ War, which started as an inter-confessional confl ict but soon developed into a French–Habsburg rivalry for European domination. Although the Peace of Augsburg assisted in setting a legal mandate for religious tolerance, in the long term it failed as a peace-keeping intervention. Several other confl icts, which for the sake of space cannot be discussed here, went on sporadically until the 1870s. 166 V. LATINOVIC

What put an end to these confessional-based confl icts in Germany was the so called Kulturkampf . This project, which started in 1872 as Bismarck’s fi ght against Catholic infl uence, soon developed into a “strategy for nation- building,” 27 and although it is until today frowned upon by the large majority of the Catholic Germans, the Kulturkampf has to be seen as “an attempt to consolidate German national culture, to create—by force of state coercion—a cultural unity, a coherent nation, across confessional lines.” 28 Kulturkampf has had remarkably positive effects by forming the virtually confession-free (konfessionslos ) German national identity. This identity was still based on ius sanguinis , but was no longer connected with confessional belonging. Instead of focusing on confessional belonging, the Kulturkampf facilitated agreement among several other common focal points toward the formation of a distinctive national identity, one of them being, for example, the German language. The solution provided by the Kulturkampf was not fl awless. It solved the division across confessional lines but it ignored the inter-religious dimension, and by doing so failed to incorporate the individuals in Germany who were not of German descent. The consequences proved to be dire for German Jews. Before the Second World War, German Jews considered themselves to be loyal German citizens, 29 but they were never accepted as full Germans by the native population. The problems created by binding national identity to German descent are left unsolved even today. For example, large numbers of the native German population reject the notion that Turkish immigrants (in most cases Muslims), or their children who are born and raised in Germany and who are fl uent in German, are Germans. 30 This restrictive view of national identity obviously has more to do with national descent and less with religious beliefs, since most Germans in Germany would accept that a person of German descent who converted to Islam would still be German. Even with such problems of inclusion, the model of German national identity provides an encouraging example to the former Yugoslav nations: this model is both confession-free and for the most part religion-free, again provided that the person in question is of German descent. The German practice of separating national from religious identity is actually the largest difference between the two models. In former Yugoslavia, national identities were not only infl uenced by confessional belonging but were based almost solely on the religious factor. Clearly, this practice was precisely what contributed to the violence that broke Yugoslavia apart. We turn now to explore what lessons might be learned from the conclusions drawn from our foregoing considerations. CONFESSIONAL BELONGING AND NATIONAL IDENTITY: A CASE STUDY... 167

LESSONS FOR THE PRESENT The important question that is now pursued is one of cautious remedi- ation. What lessons for Serbia and Croatia are to be learned from the German example? Since this chapter seeks to offer a theological perspective, it also invites consideration by Christian churches interested in building ecumenical dialogue which might also learn from Yugoslavia and Germany in attempts to fi nd sustainable solutions for greater harmony in the countries in which they operate. Finally, if some changes are to be done in Serbia and Croatia, we need to discuss the method, since both potential benefi ts and potential dangers exist. Since the Orthodox tradition maintains a strong connection between religion and nation in Serbia, the fi nal discussion will be devoted to the Serbian Orthodox church. I choose to present these aspects as separate theses in order for them to be more easily distinguished and discussed on an individual basis. 1. The fi rst insight that becomes clear from the analysis of German national identity is that confessional (or religious) belonging need not prove a decisive factor in the process of forming a national identity. Religion does not actually have be a part of national identity and can be limited to one’s personal identity. Separating these two identities—national and personal—not only enables persons belonging to different confessions and religions to share one and the same national identity but it also shows that national identity can survive apart from confessional or religious identity. This realization is a very important one, especially for Orthodox nations and churches that cling to religious identity as the main and often only source of national identity. Once the nations and churches in question realize that extricat- ing a particular confession from national identity does not endanger national identity, they can stop basing national identity upon confessional belonging. Such a separation would be benefi cial both for the state and for the Church: for the state because it would enable incorporation of all the different confessions and religions into national being; for the Church because it could focus on its real purpose: to help an individual develop a personal relationship with God, and to nurture religious communities. 31 Otherwise recognized under the pejoratively charged term “secularism,” here secularization is a good thing, both for the religion and the state. The 168 V. LATINOVIC

Church should not be allowed to interfere in the state’s domain just as the state should keep out of religious affairs. A commonly held misconception assumes that religion is responsible for public morality. This assumption is quite damaging to both Church and nation, since it often results in disenfranchisement; the application of a particular confession’s discipline often falls on individuals who do not belong to that faith’s community. Religious communities, including churches, if they want to infl uence society, must work through volun- tary organizations and affi liations, focusing more on the needs of their own communities. Working on the individual members of these communities (ad intra ) will result in infl uencing and improving society (ad extra ). Limiting their moral norms to their own members would still allow them to infl uence public morality but in a more democratic way: through the voices of their members who are at the same time members of the society. This is not to say that religious communities should be forbidden to state their opinions on different social and ethical questions. However, great care should be taken in expressing these opinions in too aggressive a manner so that the opinions and judgments do not infringe upon the rights of others. The time when religions leaders could impose their rules on entire societies are gone and they need to start respecting the choice of those who decide to live outside the realm of religion. Religions, for example, in my opinion, do not have a right to oppose or to move the public opinion against allowing civil gay marriages. They, on the other hand, have every right to oppose gay marriages among their own members. Conversely, states should not interfere in the question what kind of religious marriages churches allow for their members. 32 Different religions and even groups within the same faith community can take opposing positions on questions of doctrine and discipline; the state in any case should not try to infl uence how religious questions are handled within these communities and should leave them alone to sort such problems out for themselves. 33 Any further involvement of religion in society should in my opinion be focused on social and on a limited range of ethical issues 34 instead of on political ones, where the question of national identity clearly belongs. 35 Again I am aware that social, ethical, and political issues cannot always be separated and that by promoting such strict separation between religion and the state one risks the annoyance of many religious and Church leaders, perhaps again especially Orthodox ones who are afraid of losing the little infl uence in society they still have. Nevertheless, I argue that religion CONFESSIONAL BELONGING AND NATIONAL IDENTITY: A CASE STUDY... 169 through this separation would not lose much (or any) infl uence in society, because as I already mentioned it would still be represented indirectly through her members who are at the same time members of the society. We again have an excellent example in the German model, where despite the separation of the religious and national identities, churches collectively play a signifi cant role in the social and ethical life of the nation and ergo in the political life. 36 2. In the analysis of the national identity crisis occurring in Croatia and Serbia, we saw that in both of these countries national identity is intrinsically linked to their respective Christian confessions. More specifi cally, many fi nd the so-called national ecclesiology of the Orthodox church to be the main reason for this link. 37 Cardinal Kurt Koch, currently serving as president of the Pontifi cal Council for Promoting Christian Unity, for example, differentiates very strongly between Orthodox and Catholic ecclesiology and points out that “orthodox ecclesiology [is] linked to the national culture and a Catholic ecclesiology [is] oriented to the concept of universality.” 38 In my opinion his observation on Catholic universalism needs to be reconsidered as an example for Croatia though, because this example shows that even where different forms of ecclesiology are present, national identity can still be formed in one and the same way. I have already pointed out that these neighboring countries of Croatia and Serbia share the same mentality. Perhaps this could partially clarify why both countries base their national identities on confession, despite their churches having different types of ecclesiology. For the most part, this connection has to do with abuse by politicians using confessional (and religious) belonging as a cover for and a means to achieving certain political goals. Politicians tend to use religion as a cover because religion provides exactly what they lack: moral consistency and sincere interest in the well- being of the community. The role of religion in politics can in this case be compared with the role of the court jesters who provided the impression that the tyrants they served were fun and joyful people, without actually jeopardizing their authority. 39 The religious masks worn by politicians are donned not only in third-world countries but also in developed Western countries like the USA. Churches and other faith communities need to put a stop to this and prevent politicians from abusing confessional currency to purchase their political agendas. 3. In the analysis of confl icts that took place in former Yugoslavia, it was mentioned that one of the contributing factors for the failure of the Yugoslavian model was Serbian dominance with Serbian Orthodoxy as 170 V. LATINOVIC the dominant religion in the country. This hierarchy contributed toward ethnic tensions and ugly forms of nationalism. 40 In post-war Yugoslavia, the mistakes made were due to religious suppression on behalf of a united Yugoslav identity. 41 From these two historical examples perhaps several lessons may be learned, especially for the politicians. The fl ourishing of pluralistic societies, in societies or regions where multiple religions or confessions are present—and in our globalized world this is ever more frequently the case—religious freedom and respect toward confessions must be granted in order to enable states to function normally. Furthermore, the religious and national feelings of minorities should not be suppressed, insofar as they do not seek to threaten the toleration of freedom for others, including other ethnic identities, faiths, and morally oriented political perspectives. Both singling out one religion as the bearer of national identity, which was the case in the fi rst Yugoslavia, and suppressing all religions in the name of national unity, which was the case in the second Yugoslavia, lead to tensions that eventually result in the strengthening of radical elements within the country. The same negative effect is achieved by equal suppression of all religions in the name of some false neutrality. As I have already indicated, if the communists in Yugoslavia had chosen to grant full freedom for the religious of different confessions practice, instead of suppressing them, Yugoslavia would probably still exist as a country. Religious communities and churches would not have felt the urge to unite around and support nationalist movements in order to preserve their own religious values. Furthermore, members of different nations may not have felt that their national identity was endangered. The situation in the former Yugoslavia can be compared in this regard to a marriage where one or both partners are forced to live with each other without the freedom to fully express themselves or to enjoy their freedom. Considering this, it is really no wonder that the Yugoslavian “marriage” ended up in such a violent “divorce.” 4. At the beginning of this chapter, I mentioned the economic damage that resulted from this confl ict. Politicians with an eye toward economic welfare cannot ignore the importance of investing in the prevention of ethnic confl ict because the amount of money and other resources which one country invests in preventing confl icts is in most cases directly proportional to the stability the country has. Surely it is much more benefi cial in economic terms to invest in prevention than to face destruction on such a scale as we witnessed in Yugoslavia. If this country had invested only one-tenth of the amount that had to be paid CONFESSIONAL BELONGING AND NATIONAL IDENTITY: A CASE STUDY... 171 to repair war damage in initiatives to encourage and support social cohesion and pluralistic toleration, perhaps there would never have been any confl ict in the 1990s at all. 42 What does this investment in prevention mean in concrete terms when it comes to the relation between religion and state? This means that the states need to encourage and maybe even fi nancially support those structures and organizations that contribute to the removal of tensions between (and among) religions (or confessions). This type of organizations should (or, better to say, must) be reinforced by the state as a fundamental investment to intra- and inter-societal peace. 43 As an example here we can mention ecumenical and inter-religious institutions. The University of Tübingen for example, where I currently work, is home to one of the oldest ecumenical institutes in the world: Institut für Ökumenische und Interreligiöse Forschung . 44 Yet fi nancial support for the Institute has in recent decades decreased to a point where it only has a single employee (not even a full professorship but an appointment at the level of research fellow). The fact that ecumenical institutions such as this one are struggling for survival suggests that governments do not properly recognize their importance for the wellbeing of society. 45 5. Moving one step further from the aforementioned thesis, I suggest that support of the state should not only be limited to the ecumenical and inter-religious institutions, but to all religions and churches in general. I am aware that this might appear to clash with the positive views on the secularism that I so strongly advertised just few pages ago. Why should the state support religion(s) if we are living in a secular society? In my opinion, supporting religious awareness and practice should be a natural obligation of the state because in most cases a considerable part of their tax-paying citizens are religious persons. Furthermore, this kind of support is likely to be in the best interest of the state in multiple ways in the long term. 46 For a society to have religious people among its citizens is to have a people who (for religious reasons) by and large follow a moral framework, a framework that is similar to the core values that the state expects their law-abiding citizen to follow. In the eyes of state authorities, it may be that the precise reason why they follow these frameworks and values is irrelevant as long as they are following them. Consider the Ten Commandments as an example: in the judgment of most, anyone upholding these would be considered good members of society. A person who does not steal, lie, murder, who respects his parents, and works six days a week is a person that 172 V. LATINOVIC every society wishes to have. The best part is that in order to get more such law-abiding citizens, states do not actually need to do much except allow churches and other faith communities the freedom to practice their religion. Religions and churches have of course to do their part as well and try to remove intolerance and discrimination from their own teachings. 47 6. In this fi nal thesis I wish to say a few words about the implication of what has been said so far for the Orthodox church in particular. The biggest problem which the Orthodox church faces today in regard to the relation between national and religious identity is something that can be described as “ecclesio-national exclusivism,” 48 the phenomenon of belonging to a Church based solely on nationality. For example, the percentage of Church members in the Serbian Orthodox church who are not Serbian is negligible. 49 This problem in my view can only be solved by removing the bond between national and religious identity. The Orthodox church must learn from other churches (such as the Roman Catholic Church, for example) to open their membership to anyone who is ready to follow its teachings and rules, regardless of their ethnicity or nationality, and to actively work on increasing the diversity in its membership. 50 For the Orthodox, this will certainly be a diffi cult pill to swallow. But in my view opening the way for an ethnically diverse community is in our (Orthodox) best interest because there may be no other way that it will be able to survive in a globalized world in which nation-states are diminishing in importance. The Orthodox church in this regard needs to be reminded of the passage from Acts 10:35: “God has no favourites … anybody of any nationality who fears God and does what is right is acceptable to him.”

NOTES 1. The best example for religious confl ict is witnessed in the recent turmoil in the Arab world, often called the “Arab Spring,” and the emergence of the so-called Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIS), which bases its existence solely on religious motives. The religion is of course often little more than a facade for some deeper hidden interests such as the acquisition of economic and political power. 2. We also have examples in other religions for this kind of internal confl ict, such as the Shia-Sunni confrontation in Islam that has continued for centuries in which these two groups often show much more tolerance toward Christians than toward each other. CONFESSIONAL BELONGING AND NATIONAL IDENTITY: A CASE STUDY... 173

3. See Colin Haydon, “I Love My King and My Country but a Roman Catholic I Hate: Anti-Catholicism, Xenophobia and National Identity in Eighteenth- Century England”, Protestantism and National Identity : Britain and Ireland , c.1650 – c.1850 , ed. Tony Claydon and Ian McBride (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 33–52, for a synopsis of the background of the religious confl ict behind Catholics and Protestants in Northern Ireland. 4. Several other studies already dealt with the wars in former Yugoslavia. See for example: Vjekoslav Perica, Balkan Idols : Religion and Nationalism in Yugoslav States (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2002); Pedro Ramet, “Religion and Nationalism in Yugoslavia,” in Religion and Nationalism in Soviet and East European Politics , ed. Sabrina P. Ramet (Durham: Duke University Press, 1989); Raju G.C Thomas and H. Richard Friman, The South Slav Confl ict : History , Religion , Ethnicity , and Nationalism (London: Routledge, 2014); Peter F. Sugar, East European Nationalism , Politics and Religion (Farnham: Ashgate, 1999); Berkley Center For Religion, Peace & World Affairs, Bosnia : Ethno-Religious Nationalism in Confl ict (Georgetown: Berkley Center, 2013) and Rénéo Lukic and Allen Lynch, “The Wars of Yugoslav Succession, 1941–95,” in Europe from the Balkans to the Urals : The Disintegration of Yugoslavia and the Soviet Union (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1996), 174–221. 5. During the Slovenian War approximately 63 people were killed and 328 were wounded on both sides. 6. The term “Bosniak” is used for those individuals who are of Muslim religion in Bosnia. This term should be clearly distinguished from the term “Bosnian,” which is a designation used for all people living in Bosnia regardless of their national or religious orientation. 7. Serbs who are Christians fought against Bosniaks who are Muslim and who were then supported by Bosnian Croats only because they didn’t want to take the same side as the Serbs. 8. That the German national belonging is indeed based on the ius sanguinis concept, see: Roger Brubaker, Citizenship and Nationhood in France and Germany (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1992). For more discussion on this topic see: Geoff Eley & Jan Palmowski (eds.), Citizenship and National Identity in Twentieth-Century Germany (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2008). 9. These two events were of course interconnected. See Susan L. Woodward, Balkan Tragedy : Chaos and Dissolution after the Cold War (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press, 1995) 101–105. 10. Croatians were heavily supported by Western governments which had their strategic and economic interests in the area; Serbians on the other side were supported solely by their parent state, Serbia. 11. Approximately 270,000 people were killed and over 4 million made refugees as a consequence of these two wars. 174 V. LATINOVIC

12. See: Ian Jeffries, Former Yugoslavia at the Turn of the Twenty-First Century : A Guide to the Economies in Transition (London and New York: Routledge, 2003), 38–39. 13. See Human Rights Watch, Croatia , a Decade of Disappointment : Continuing Obstacles to the Reintegration of Serb Returnees (Human Rights Watch, 2006). 14. Serbs fought on the side of the Allies, while a vast majority of Croats and Bosnian Muslims were on the side of the Germany and the other Axis powers. Later many Croats and Bosniaks also joined partisan forces. 15. See: Steven L. Jacobs, Confronting Genocide : Judaism , Christianity , Islam (New York: Berghahn, 2008), 158–159. 16. This number is heavily disputed both by Serbian and Croatian historians (and politicians). While Serbians infl ate the number to almost 700,000 dead, Croatians are trying to minimize it and talk about ca. 70,000 casualties. Cf. Carole Rogel, The Breakup of Yugoslavia and the War in Bosnia (Westport: Greenwood Publishing Group, 1998), 48. 17. Vilko Vinterhalter, In the Path of Tito (Tunbridge Wells: Abacus Press, 1973), 64. 18. It is hard to speak about the “nation” for the time before the French Revolution (see Chimene I. Keitner, The Paradoxes of Nationalism : The French Revolution and Its Meaning for Contemporary Nation Building [Albany: State University of New York Press, 2007]). Nevertheless, we are missing another term that would express the notion of nation as a people who constitute a homogeneous group because they share heritage, history, traditions, and language. 19. See Detlef Pollack, “European and national identity in post-communist societies: coincidence or contrast? Think Piece,” Proposal No: SERD-2000-00293: Values Systems of the Citizens and Socio-Economic Conditions – Challenges from Democratisation for the EU-Enlargement (University of Frankfurt). 20. See Pauline C. H. Kollontai, “Finding a Path to a Common Future: Religion and Cosmopolitanism in the Context of Bosnia- Herzegovina,” in Maria Rovisco & Sebastian Kim (eds.), Cosmopolitanism , Religion and the Public Sphere (New York: Routledge, 2014), 53. 21. Cf. Tatjana Katic, “Serbia under the Ottoman Rule”, Österreichische Osthefte 47 (2005), 152–154. 22. This lobbying for the independence also involved bribing Rome with the rel- ics of St. Clement from Rome, which Cyril and Methodius discovered just few years before the negotiation. Cf. Maddalena Betti, The Making of Christian Moravia (858–882 ): Papal Power and Political Reality (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 100–104. 23. For example, Stefan Prvovencani, son of Nemanja who was the founder of “Nemanjic” dynasty, received his crown by the Pope, thereby becoming the fi rst Serbian king in 1217. Cf. John V. A. Fine and John Van Antwerp Fine, CONFESSIONAL BELONGING AND NATIONAL IDENTITY: A CASE STUDY... 175

The Late Medieval Balkans : A Critical Survey from the Late Twelfth Century to the Ottoman Conquest (Michigan: University of Michigan Press, 1994), 42. 24. Historians still speculate as to what went on behind the scenes, and it is possible that this “act of selfl essness” wasn’t very spontaneous and that Serbia was “encouraged” to unite with other Balkan states. This is partially based on the so called “Fourteen Points” of President Woodrow Wilson who in the eleventh point conceded that “Serbia accorded free and secure access to the sea; and the relations of the several Balkan states to one another determined by friendly counsel along historically established lines of allegiance and nationality; and international guarantees of the political and economic independence and territorial integrity of the several Balkan states should be entered into”—a decision that was to be accepted by the South-Slavic people. See Woodrow Wilson, Woodrow Wilson : Essential Writings and Speeches of the Scholar-president , ed. Mario R. DiNunzi (New York & London: New York University Press, 2006), 405. 25. At this time, we witness the broader rise of communism globally which means that this phenomenon in Yugoslavia cannot be solely attributed to the power struggles between the Orthodox and the Catholic. 26. The naming of Tito as head of Yugoslavia does not diminish the fact that Serbian politicians were indeed dominant. Tito had his capital in Belgrade, Serbia, and the large majority of highest military, police, and government offi cials consisted mainly of Serbians. Each of the Yugoslav republics had its own government, but they all went to Belgrade for fi nal decisions. This is one of the reasons why other republics eventually decided to separate from Serbia. 27. Helmut Walser Smith, German Nationalism and Religious Confl ict : Culture , Ideology , Politics , 1870–1914 (New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2014), 14. 28. Ibid., 20. 29. Most of the German Jews before the Third Reich “considered themselves German citizens in the political, national, and cultural senses, but stressed their religious particularism” (Shmuel Ahituv, The Jewish People : An Illustrated History [New York: A&C Black, 2006], 419). This self-understanding that they were Germans by nationality and Jews by religion was violently (and ultimately) disrupted when the Nazis seized power; but the situation regarding Jewish belonging to the German national corpus was ambiguous already long before the Nazi regime. The fact that such a vast majority of the German population joined in an attempt to exterminate the Jewish population shows us that even after centuries of living together, Jews were never fully accepted as a part of the German nation. 30. The most extreme example of rejection based on foreign ethnicity is to be found in current PEGIDA ( P atriotische E uropäer g egen die I slamisierung des A bendlandes) demonstrations in Germany. 176 V. LATINOVIC

31. Commitment to pastoral care of course implies broader political and social involvement of the religion but the question remains if this involvement belongs to the core of what the religion is or if it is only a by-product of our personal relationship with God, which than expands to all other aspects of our life. 32. The basis for this prohibition is the above-mentioned separation between the state and the religion. Just as religions should not interfere in the state’s domain, the state should vice versa be free to organize its own domain in the way it fi nds best suited. This non-interfering principle could actually be a good, temporary solution for the problem of both the religious communities and for the state because through non-interference the state could provide freedom of choice for all of its citizens, and religions would be able to uphold their ethical principles within their own religious communities. 33. As an example that states are indeed trying to interfere with these questions we can mention the (formal and informal) pressure of British government on the Anglican church to move toward legalizing gay marriages. Cf. http:// www.bbc.com/news/uk-18405318 . 34. I say “limited range” because while churches (and other faith communities) should learn not to interfere with the lives and decisions of those who do not belong within their communities, they should take care that society doesn’t impose on their members any rules which are against their ethical principles. 35. We can see from the example of communism that this limitation would be benefi cial. The marginalized role of the Orthodox church in politics forced them to rediscover their liturgical foundation and focus on their true mission instead on daily political agenda. 36. Chancellor of Germany Angela Merkel comes, for example, from the “Christian Democratic Union of Germany” (CDU) which at the core of its program has a “Christian understanding of humans and their responsibility toward God” (party slogan). 37. A now classic study of some fundamental differences between Roman Catholic and Orthodox ecclesiology is Nikolai Afanasiev, “The Church Which Presides in Love”, in The Primacy of Peter : Essays in Ecclesiology and the Early Church , ed. John Meyendorff, new ed. (Crestwood, NY: SVS Press, 1992) 91–143. 38. Kurt Koch, “Progress in the Ecumenical Journey: The State of Ecumenism Today—Opening Address of Cardinal Kurt Koch as President PCPCU”, in Information Service 135 (2010/III-IV): 79. 39. More about the mask which comedy provides for our not-so-funny everyday life can be found in an excellent book: Seymour Fisher & Rhoda L. Fisher, Pretend the World Is Funny and Forever : A Psychological Analysis of Comedians , Clowns , and Actors (Hove: Psychology Press, 2014). 40. Cf. Jozo Tomasevich, Contemporary Yugoslavia (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1969), 61. CONFESSIONAL BELONGING AND NATIONAL IDENTITY: A CASE STUDY... 177

41. Cf. John B. Allcock, Explaining Yugoslavia (London: C. Hurst & Co. Publishers, 2000), 366–376. 42. The republics might have still decided to go their own ways, but such a division would probably have happened in a more civilized way, as in the former Czechoslovakia. 43. With the same logic one can say that all the movements which are going in opposite directions should be discouraged by the state. Please note that I am not saying prohibited because any prohibition only leads to increased radicalism. 44. Institut für Ökumenische und Interreligiöse Forschung, http://www. oekumene-institut.uni-tuebingen.de /. 45. This is of course also connected to an ever-growing neglect toward projects and disciplines that do not bring direct profi t. 46. I am aware that the benefi ts of nationally sponsored religion might not be evident to someone who is from the USA but in most of the European countries this is essential part of the democratic culture. 47. This question of purifying religious teaching from intolerance is an extremely complicated one. The line between which parts of church(es) teachings can or cannot be changed for the sake of alignment with social and cultural developments is so thin that sometimes the decisions churches make to accommodate modern tastes result in losing their identity or being isolated by the society. Take as example the question of gay and lesbian recognition: We have churches which ignore this question and we have churches which grant homosexual members full recognition. Both solutions are a source of complications. 48. I deal with these problems in my article “Local Church in the Global World: Orthodox Ecclesiology in the Age of Pluralism,” published in Ecclesiology , 12.2 (2016), 165–182. 49. To my knowledge, there is not a single statistical survey conducted on non- Serbian members of the Serbian Orthodox church, indicative of its ethnic exclusivity. 50. Many Orthodox will say here, “but we are open to anyone.” I would disagree. If 99 % of church membership consists of only one nation, this shows that the Orthodox church is not open to diversity. CHAPTER 9

Sobornost ’, State Authority, and Christian Society in Slavophile Political Theology

Nathaniel Wood

It has become commonplace in contemporary Christian political theology to sharply contrast the type of relationality embodied in the Church to that embodied in the liberal democratic state. While the Church is presented as a genuine communion, founded on the sacrifi cial self-gift of Christ and held together by the mutual love and service of its members, who “coin- here” in one another, liberal democratic society is founded on the sovereignty of the individual, and social relations represent only an external coincidence of individual interests. The theologians who have played up this contrast between the Church and liberal society have done so with the hope of shifting Christians’ political imagination away from the state and toward the Church itself. Rather than an attempt to “Christianize” society through the mechanisms of the state, they argue, Christian politics should be understood as an ecclesial “counter-politics” in which the Church does politics simply by being the Church, that is, by living out its own social principles and offering itself up as a public witness to a superior manner of social life than the one offered by liberal democracy. To confl ate Christian politics with the politics of the state would mean translating the Christian

N. Wood ( ) Fordham University, New York, NY, USA

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2016 179 L.D. Lefebure (ed.), Religion, Authority, and the State, DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59990-2_9 180 N. WOOD social ideal into the liberal language of self-interested individualism and Hobbesian universal confl ict. The general features of this perspective are not new. In this chapter, I will show how several aspects of this current anti-liberal trend are anticipated, in rather strange ways, in nineteenth-century Russian Orthodox political theology, particularly in the work of the senior Slavophiles Alexei Khomiakov, Ivan Kireevsky, and Konstantin Aksakov. I call the similarities “strange” because, at fi rst glance, a huge gulf seems to separate the two schools of thought from each other: the Slavophiles are ardent defenders of the Russian autocracy, which would seem to put them at odds with William Cavanaugh’s critique of the state. However, by examining more closely the rationale behind their autocratic inclinations, I will show that their social philosophy resembles Cavanaugh’s anti-statist political theology much more closely it might initially appear, and is in fact rooted in the same fundamental impulse: a desire for the Church to be the Church rather than compromise its integrity by entangling itself in state politics. My goal in this chapter is to justify a reading of Slavophile social thought as a political theology . While the Slavophiles, especially Khomiakov, have exercised enormous infl uence on twentieth-century Orthodox ecclesiology, their social thought has received only scant attention in recent constructive theology. In what follows, I offer up the Slavophile case as one that can help contemporary theologians think through the relationship between ecclesial life and state authority, especially beyond the relative freedom of the Western liberal democratic contexts in which Cavanaugh and most other Church-as-polis theologians write.

SLAVOPHILE SOCIAL THOUGHT The famous debate between the Slavophiles and the Westernizers emerged in the 1840s in response to Peter Chaadaev’s indictment of Russia as “a country where nothing yet had been accomplished and everything remained to be done.” 1 Convinced that Russia lacked the native resources for its own enlightenment, the Westernizers praised Peter the Great’s westernizing reforms and argued that Russia could enter the modern world only by more fully assimilating Western values. The Slavophiles, by contrast, saw Russia as a land rich in tradition and argued that the country could develop socially and culturally only by rooting itself in its own traditional patterns of life and thought, which had been disrupted by Peter and his successors. SOBORNOST’, STATE AUTHORITY, AND CHRISTIAN SOCIETY... 181

Importantly, the debate between the Slavophiles and Westernizers was less about Western infl uence itself than it was about a set of social ideals that “the West” represented. According to Sergey Horujy, the ideals in question chiefl y concerned the nature of the human person. Both sides of the debate agreed that modern Western and pre-modern Russian societies were fundamentally at odds with each other, but they disagreed over the nature of their incompatibility. As Horujy notes, the Westernizers saw Europe as “the cradle of personhood” (lichnost ’), whereas in Russia they saw only “the absence and suppression of personhood.” 2 The traditional modes of life in the Russian peasant commune, the obshchina , were incapable of cultivating free, active, autonomous personality, and it was westernization that had fi rst introduced the personality principle into Russian society. For the Slavophiles, however, the West was marred by social disintegration and discord, which they understood to be the fi nal outcome of a society founded on abstract rationalism and the sovereignty of individual. It was precisely the peasant obshchina , then, that the Slavophiles saw as the last bastion of a superior sociality based on the principle of kenotic communion. Andrzej Walicki treats the Slavophiles’ critique of westernization as “an ideological defense of the Gemeinschaft against the Gesellschaft ,” drawing off the distinction between “organic” and “artifi cial” associations popularized by the German sociologist Ferdinand Tönnies. 3 The Gemeinschaft rests on a relational understanding of personhood and locates the highest end of personal freedom in the life of the community, while the Gesellschaft is a rational association that rests on individualism and treats social life as instrumental to the interests of its individual members. The Slavophiles’ depictions of Russia and the West do indeed strongly resemble the Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft types, respectively, and that resemblance has led Walicki and others to note the movement’s “striking affi nities” with conservative romantic critiques of modernity. Walicki characterizes Slavophile polemics as “essentially, though not solely, a critique of capitalist civilization from a romantic conservative point of view.” 4 If the modern West is marked by social atomism, then the Slavophiles found in the peasant commune evidence of the possibility of an alternative mode of social life based not on self-interest but on the deeper bonds of personal affec- tion and shared purpose. The romantic infl uence on Slavophilism is undeniable, but it would be wrong to treat the movement as “clearly only an interesting offshoot,” as Walicki suggests it is. More theologically minded readers have tended to locate the center of Slavophile social thought not in the peasant com- 182 N. WOOD mune, but in a different community, the Church. As V. V. Zenkovsky argues, Slavophilism was part of a larger nineteenth-century renaissance of “ecclesiastical consciousness” in Russia that made the experience of ecclesial life “a point of departure” for a new Christian philosophy of culture. 5 In The Ways of Russian Theology , Georges Florovsky acknowledges that Slavophile ecclesiocentrism is an example of a typical romantic conservative tendency to regard the Church as “the sole ‘organic’ force amidst the ‘critical’ dissolution and disintegration of all binding ties,” 6 but also stresses that there was much more to Slavophilism than mere romanti- cism. Behind the romantic veneer, Florovsky argues, a “new and different experiment was begun … an experiment in the reality of the Church.” 7 Horujy’s account is similar: the basic spirit of Slavophilism was always the spirit of Orthodoxy, but the early movement gave too much prominence to the peasant commune. By the 1850s, however, the realization that their social ideals had not been realized in the communes led the Slavophiles, especially Khomiakov, to a stronger focus on the Church: “A new stage of [Khomiakov’s] philosophy was born when this negative conclusion was accompanied by a positive thesis, namely, that the actual, and only adequate realization of a perfect community, is the church. ” 8 The “experiment in the reality of the Church” that Florovsky and Horujy identify is, of course, the doctrine of sobornost ’ . From the Slavonic rendering of the “catholicity” of the Church (sobornaia Tserkov ’) in the Nicene Creed, sobornost ’ names the synthesis of freedom and unity in love that constitutes the Church’s being. However, while readers like Florovsky and Horujy fi nd the “secular” side of Slavophile social thought a distrac- tion from its ecclesiological contributions, I contend that Slavophilism is at its strongest when read as a theology of culture or, more precisely, a theology of the “churchifi cation” of culture. That is, it should be read as a gesture toward a church-centered political theology , in the spirit of the recent ecclesiocentrism in Western political theology. Even if the communion of free persons is fi rst and foremost a reality of the Church, this reality is meant to spill out into secular society, infusing the whole social order with the spirit of “sobornal” love. As Khomiakov writes in his 1860 “Epistle to the Serbs,” Christian faith “penetrates man’s whole being and all his relations with his neighbor,” thereby imparting to society its “highest social principle.” 9 Kireevsky shares the sentiment: “My only wish,” he writes, is that the Church’s principles “should become part and parcel of the beliefs of all estates and strata of our society; that these lofty principles, in dominating European culture, should not force it out but SOBORNOST’, STATE AUTHORITY, AND CHRISTIAN SOCIETY... 183 rather engulf it in their fullness, thus giving it a higher meaning and bringing it to its ultimate development.” 10 Importantly, as I will make clear next, this “churchifi cation” of the secular order is not worked out through state politics, based on the Slavophiles’ commitment to a principle of mutual non-interference between the Church and the state. Before addressing this principle, however, I must fi rst elaborate on the political theological dimensions of the Slavophile critique of “the West,” to which I now turn.

THE CRITIQUE OF WESTERN ANTHROPOLOGY Kireevsky offers a representative critique of the West in two essays that bookend his career: the 1839 “Reply to Khomiakov” and the 1852 “On the Nature of European Culture and Its Relation to the Culture of Russia.” Kireevsky contends that “the whole of the West’s social and personal life is based on the concept of the individual and private independence.” The Western person, he argues, is at root self-enclosed, self-suffi cient individual who only subsequently chooses to enter into relationships with other individuals. Social relations are modeled on foreign relations: “The fi rst step taken by each individual entity upon entering into communal life is to surround itself with fortress walls, from behind which it conducts its relations with other equally independent powers.” 11 The use of fortifi cation imagery points to one of the major historical factors Kireevsky sees behind the emergence of Western individualism, namely, Europe’s history of feudal confl ict. Among feudalism’s outcomes, he argues, is a disordered conception of the relationship between persons and property. Feudalism wedded the very concept of the person to that of private property: “The entire edifi ce of the Western social order may be said to rest on the development of the personal right of ownership, so that personality itself—in juridical terms—is no more than an expression of this right.” 12 As Walicki points out, the representative symbol of Western humanity is for Kireevsky the feudal lord behind fortress walls, exercising an absolute right of disposal over his estate, independent of any community obligation. Behind the walls of private ownership, each landowner formed an independent sovereign state, with no essential relation to any other. Kireevsky basically has in mind what C. B. Macpherson would later call the “possessive quality” of the liberal-capitalist view of the person. Macpherson’s “possessive individualism” imagines personhood in predominantly economic terms: the free person is “an owner of himself,” 184 N. WOOD and personal freedom is “a function of possession.” 13 To be a free person is to be the proprietor of one’s own individuality with the power to shape one’s own individual identity in whatever way one chooses by exercising one’s rights of disposal over oneself. What this means, then, is that one’s relationships with other possessive individuals are not constitutive of oneself as a free person, except insofar as those relationships are expressions of one’s own self-determination. In other words, the relationships themselves are not of primary signifi cance, only the individual’s power to voluntarily enter into them and withdraw from them. Possessive individualism assigns no positive signifi cance to those unchosen, pre-refl ective associations (such as the family or the local community), and their atten- dant obligations, in which persons invariably fi nd themselves as members. Rather, in order to exercise one’s rights of self-ownership in full freedom, one must fi rst be emancipated from the binding ties of such associations, giving the individual primacy over the community. This is why the original expression of freedom for the Western individual must be withdrawal behind the “fortress walls” of one’s own individuality and fortifi cation of one’s own private space against the incursions of others. In Kireevsky’s account, feudal society was founded precisely on such incursions. It was forged out of a history of violent conquest, and the end result was the alienation of social relations and obligations from personhood as such. In Europe, social obligations were imposed on individuals by the force of a stronger rival will. Kireevsky imagines the whole of European social development as shaped by this “relentless struggle” between conquering and conquered classes and by the constant shifting of their respective power. It was within this struggle that modern Western rights discourse was born. Because the conquered classes were often treated as little more than the “inanimate property” of their feudal masters, they could secure some semblance of freedom and dignity for themselves only through a kind of negative relationship to others, that is, only by asserting their right of self-ownership over against the competing rights-claims of their oppressors. The emergence of rights discourse would erect the metaphorical “fortress walls” that would eventually mark out for each individual an independent domain free from external domination. The securing of rights for the lower classes did not fundamentally challenge the association between personhood and private property, but democratized it. Just as the conquering classes had claimed an absolute right of disposal over their estates, so now did the common people assert a SOBORNOST’, STATE AUTHORITY, AND CHRISTIAN SOCIETY... 185 similar unrestricted right to “dispose of their possessions and their persons as they see fi t” (borrowing Locke’s words). 14 Kireevsky argues that the ultimate outcome of these developments (and of all of Western culture) was the reduction of all social relations to contractual relations. Social relations became an expression of the rational self-interest of otherwise independent individuals, assuming the purely formal, external, and accidental character distinctive of Gesellschaft -type associations. Kireevsky writes:

Every nobleman strove to be a law unto himself in his relations with others. The notion of a unifi ed state or nation could not enter into their independent hearts, which were shielded on all sides by steel and pride. The only limitation they would admit to their arbitrary actions was in the form of rules governing external relations, rules which they themselves formulated and voluntarily accepted. Although the codes of honor arose in response to the needs of the times as the only possible substitute for law in the face of utter lawlessness, yet their nature revealed such a one-sidedness of public life, such an emphasis on the external and the formal aspect of human relationships, and such a disregard of their essence that, in themselves alone, they could serve as a faithful mirror of all of Western polity’s development. 15

Kireevsky worries that contract effectively depersonalizes social relations. Depersonalization can be seen, for instance, in Adam Smith’s famous remark that when we enter into economic relations with other individuals (e.g., with “the butcher, the brewer, or the baker”), we relate “not to their humanity but to their self-love .” 16 Macpherson maintains that a possessive individualist, contract-based society “is essentially a series of market relations” with just this kind of depersonalized character. 17 Kireevsky would certainly agree with Macpherson’s characterization. Contract establishes a superfi cial concurrence among the actions of self- seeking economic agents, but the contractual relationship is only a means to private ends that are extraneous to the relationship itself. Whatever cooperation contract encourages only masks the deeper personal indif- ference, if not outright hostility, that may still exist below the surface, erupting again in every clash of competing rights-claims. Contract lays the ground rules for outward activity, mitigating the destructiveness of universal confl ict and even directing self-interest toward productive ends, but it is unable to produce either a truly public spirit or the deep bonds of interpersonal communion. 186 N. WOOD

Kireevsky sees the notions of personhood, freedom, and community developing along radically different lines in Russia. He traces the difference in part back to the relative absence of feudal confl ict during the formative years of Kievan Rus’, where he fi nds a social order founded on free consent rather than external coercion. Standing apart from Europe’s feudal history, the Russians never elevated property relations above personal relations, he argues. Instead, they subordinated the rights of land access to the common good of the community. In principle, this meant that property relations were shaped by personal relations, not vice versa: “Society was made up not of private property to which persons were attached, but of persons to whom property was attached.” 18 In practice, it meant that there was no truly private property, since “a person participated in the rights of ownership to the extent that he participated in communal society.” 19 There was no absolute right of disposal over the land; all rights of access were granted for service to the well-being of the whole community and could be revoked if one no longer fulfi lled one’s obligations. It follows that property in Russia could not function like fortress walls dividing the independent domains of autonomous individuals, and personhood, consequently, could not take on the possessive quality that it had in the West. Against individualism, the Slavophiles advance a relational approach to personhood, grounding personhood in one’s participation in a larger corpo- rate body. Konstantin Aksakov, who offers the most morally idealistic portrayal of life in the peasant commune, is particularly forceful in contrasting the anthropology of the commune and that of the Western state. Comparing the commune to a “moral choir,” Asakov casts personhood in kenotic rather than possessive terms. 20 Personhood fi nds its highest self-realization only in self-renunciation. Zenkovsky writes of Aksakov’s choral metaphor that

The “choral” life of the individual opens a special path before him, i.e., it preserves his uniqueness and gives it broad scope; but it subordinates the individual person to the whole, just as each singer in a chorus sings with his own voice but subordinates himself to the functioning of the chorus as a whole. 21

Choral membership must be kenotic in that choral performance requires individuals to set aside their autonomy and submit their voices to the direction of the conductor. A choral community is for Aksakov “a union of people who have renounced their egoism, their own personality.” 22 It would be wrong to suggest, as one commentator has done, that Aksakov’s SOBORNOST’, STATE AUTHORITY, AND CHRISTIAN SOCIETY... 187 kenoticism exhibits “a masochist’s idea of freedom.” 23 Aksakov is quick to point out that “personality is not lost” in a choral union; it is only stripped of its false sense of isolated self-suffi ciency, its egoism. Within the choir, personhood now “fi nds itself in a more purifi ed form, in a concord of equally self-sacrifi cing persons.” By transforming them into instruments of a higher collective performance, choral participation broadens the self- expression of the singers, so that each of them is now heard “not as a solitary voice but in harmony with others.” 24 Importantly, the harmony of voices is not just a means to the disparate private ends of individual singers but is itself the shared goal of choral activity, the highest expression of choral freedom, and the perfection of choral personality.

THE CHURCH AS THE SOCIAL IDEAL Where does the Church fi t into this idealistic vision of community? From the beginning, the Slavophiles assigned the Church a leading role in Russian social life. Kireevsky, for example, argued in the “Reply to Khomiakov” that the commune lay under the Church’s “educative infl uence,” and the commune itself was only the soil in which the seed of Christian com- munality had taken root. 25 Among the Slavophiles, however, it was only Khomiakov who offered an in-depth study of the Church, and it was only in the 1850s, as he began shifting his attention to more explicitly theological questions, that he fl eshed out his understanding of the Church’s distinctive contribution to social life, the doctrine of sobornost ’. Horujy rightly notes that Aksakov’s moral choir was a “pure ethical construct” that never actually obtained in the communes, where, as the Westernizers had argued, a robust view of the person had never actually been allowed to develop, crushed as it was under the weight of conformity. 26 Khomiakov’s great insight was to recognize that kenotic personhood could only be a gift of grace made possible by the people’s communion with God. For this reason, he carefully distinguishes the spiritual essence of the Church from any of its empirical manifestations. The Church “is not the visible society of Christians,” he writes, “but the Spirit of God and the grace of the sacraments living in the society.” 27 The Church’s principle of social unity is internal to the Church, and the people are one because of their communion with the one God: “The unity of the Church follows necessarily from the unity of God, for the Church is not a multiplicity of persons in their personal separateness, but the unity of God’s grace living in the multitude of rational creatures who submit themselves to grace.” 28 188 N. WOOD

At heart, sobornost ’ is an attempt to explain this “interiority” of God’s relationship to the Church, which in turn grounds the interiority of the relationships among human persons within the Church. According to Khomiakov, people do not encounter God’s self-revelation as an external datum to be grasped by analytic reason. Properly speaking, all knowledge of God is God’s own self-knowledge, in which human persons can participate through their participation in the Holy Spirit. Importantly, though, a person’s communion with the Spirit is inseparable from communion with other persons, since the Spirit resides in humanity only in the communion of the Church. Ecclesial communion, the circulation of mutual love, “the prayer of all for each and of each for all”—this is the space in which Christ’s Spirit dwells. 29 For this reason, Khomiakov can insist that the knowledge of God “belongs only to the unity of all the members of the Church” and never to the isolated individual. 30 “Knowledge of divine truths was given to the mutual love of Christians,” he writes, “and it has no other guardian but this love.” 31 This means that there is an essential connection between communion with God and communion with other persons, and if communion with God is the telos of the human person, then authentic personhood is possible only within the Church. Like in Aksakov’s moral chorus, kenoticism is central to Khomiakov’s conception of the person. Along with the other Slavophiles, Khomiakov makes a distinction between the personhood as such (lichnost ’) and self-enclosed individuality (individual ’ nost ’) that has become standard in Orthodox theological anthropology. Individuality is for him a fallen personhood, a personhood that is trapped within its own one-sidedness and thus marked by ignorance and sinfulness. 32 The highest affi rmation of personal freedom, then, is not the self-assertion of individuality but its self-renunciation, so that the particular person might be gifted with a new identity as a member of the sobornost ’ of the Church, which is the deifying presence of God in collective humanity. In sobornost ’, individuals do not fi nd “something that is alien to them,” Khomiakov insists. Instead,

They fi nd themselves there, no longer in the frailty of spiritual isolation but in the power of intimate, spiritual union with their brothers and sisters and with their Savior. People fi nd themselves there in their perfection, or rather they fi nd what is perfect in them—divine inspiration, which is constantly lost in the gross impurity of each individual existence. 33 SOBORNOST’, STATE AUTHORITY, AND CHRISTIAN SOCIETY... 189

In communion with others, human persons “are no longer what they were—isolated individuals,” because they have become “integral parts” of the “superior life” of Christ’s polyhypostatic body. 34 The person-in- communion now becomes a particular hypostatic bearer of the fullness of divine grace and truth that constitutes the Church’s being. Mutual love fl ows like blood through the organs of the body, inwardly infusing each member of the Church with a single divine and deifying Spirit. Khomiakov thus moves toward a theory of kenotic personhood that grounds the dignity of the person in their communion with God, which is lived out in communion with others. The person is not the isolated individual, but is instead a particular organ of a larger divine-human life.

SOBORNOST ’ AND THE STATE One of the major aims of Khomiakov’s doctrine is to resolve the contradiction between the individual and the community. It does this, fi rst of all, by uniting the community around a common object of love, God. Nikolai Lossky captures the main idea of sobornost ’ when he describes it as “the combination of freedom and unity of many persons on the basis of their common love for the same absolute values.” 35 Confl icting individual wills are reconciled to each other by being directed toward a shared telos that exceeds every exclusive private or party interest. Notably, however, the object of “transcendence” to which Khomiakov appeals is immanent within the loving reciprocity of the community itself. Sobornost ’ attempts to hold together both the “vertical” and “horizontal” sides of social unity: the Church is one because of its members’ common orientation toward a transcendent good, yet because we can attain that good only in our love for our neighbors, the Church is one equally because of our “horizontal” love for one another and our coinherence in one another. It is precisely by “internalizing” the transcendent principle of social unity that Khomiakov intends for sobornost ’ to eliminate the need for any purely external, contractual unity. For Khomiakov, there is nothing “alien” in the social life of the Church, no external authority that stands over individuals and demands their subjugation. External unity is only an outward manifestation of an internal communion of equals. There is a defi nite anarchic thrust to the doctrine, if by “anarchy” we mean the absence not of an ordering principle for social life but of centralized, coercive authority. “Neither God, nor Christ, nor the Church is an authority,” Khomiakov argues, because “an authority is something external.” 36 190 N. WOOD

External authority emerges in the Church only in the absence of communion, when individuals, having lost their union in the Spirit, need instead to be held together by force, and when hierarchical differentiation hardens into rigid structures of power and privilege. Khomiakov’s polemic against Roman Catholicism is especially illustra- tive on this point. Slavophile treatments of Catholicism are, generally speaking, based on gross caricature, but a look at Khomiakov’s critique of “Latinism” gives insight into the general association the Slavophiles make between individualism and externalism. In one letter, responding to the charge that the Orthodox Church is guilty of “Protestant leanings” for its schism from Catholicism, Khomiakov turns the accusation back on the accuser, retort- ing that Rome became “the origin of the Protestant principle” by uni- laterally inserting the fi lioque clause into the Nicene Creed. Khomiakov argues that Rome’s “territorial pride,” which effectively severed the West from the body of Christ, 37 established dangerous precedent of radical individualism that, if democratized by the laity (as eventually happened in Protestantism), would undermine ecclesiastical unity in the West. The Catholic clergy, the argument goes, sought to hold in check the centrifu- gal inertia of its own individualism by transforming itself into a rigid hierarchy, a bureaucratic “this-worldly State” 38 that maintained a semblance of the former unity through enforced conformity to a code of belief and conduct. This “newly created despotism restrained the chaos which had been introduced into the Church by the original novelty” of the schism, 39 preserving the outward façade of unity at the expense of personal freedom. The Western Christian “had now become a subject of the Church,” a slave to an alienated external authority. 40 For the Slavophiles, this dynamic occurs not just within the Church but also within political life. For instance, Kireevsky traces the beginnings of political despotism in Russia to religious discord: “[W]ith the destruction of inner spiritual unity it became necessary to create physical formal unity, which gave rise to the hierarchical system, the oprichnina , slavery, etc.” 41 Whether in the Church or in secular society, the loss of sobornost ’ reduces social unity to its vertical dimension. The mass of individuals are held together not by inner feeling but by their common subjugation to a centralized power that stands over them all. However, the verticalization and externalization of authority leads to a volatile tension within the enforced unity, since the external authority, having been created to regulate the outward behavior of autonomous individuals, always confronts them as SOBORNOST’, STATE AUTHORITY, AND CHRISTIAN SOCIETY... 191 a restraint on their autonomy. Coerced unity is always experienced as an external limit to the very autonomy on which it is based. This tension, the Slavophiles argue, is the root of the dangerous “revolutionism” that was infecting Russia’s westernized intelligentsia . 42 The substance of the argument, then, is that individual autonomy is not quite as incompatible with centralized authority structures as it might fi rst appear. Rather, the two arise together and reinforce each other. The correlation between individualism and statism had already been noted, with approval, by several of the Westernizers, including Konstantin Kavelin, who argued that the centralization of state power weakened the infl uence of organic associations like the family and thus “created the conditions in which the autonomous individual could fl ourish.” 43 The correlation has also received much attention from recent anti-liberal political theologians, including William Cavanaugh. Cavanaugh’s political theology resembles that of the Slavophiles in several ways, especially in terms of the sharp contrast he draws between the communion of the Church and the individualism of the secular state. Like the Slavophiles, Cavanaugh treats the anthropology of the autonomous individual as a product of sin: “[T]he effect of sin is the very creation of the individual as such, that is, the creation of an ontological distinction between individual and group.” 44 Salvation is the restoration of human community, realized in the Church as the body of Christ. Like the Slavophiles, Cavanaugh notes the confl ictual nature of possessive individualism (an anthropology based on “the distinction of mine and thine” 45 ) and argues that politics is “essentially a matter of making peace among competing individuals.” 46 This peace will be made “through the enacting of a social body,” which, because of the privatization of the Church, has appeared in the form of the secular state, the Leviathan. 47 Cavanaugh displays the same anarchic tendencies the Slavophiles do insofar as he associates external state authority as such with coercion and violence. The violence of the state often manifests itself overtly, as he argues in Torture and Eucharist , wherein he describes the shoring up of centralized state power by a regime of torture and “disappearance” in Pinochet’s Chile. 48 Even when the violence is not overt, however, the unity of society still depends upon the state’s monopoly on the legitimate use of force, which the state wields in order to maintain outward peace among individuals. The result in this case is once again a verticalization of social unity: “The body that is enacted is a monstrosity of many separate limbs proceeding directly out of a giant head.” 49 Cavanaugh imagines 192 N. WOOD the liberal state along Gesellschaft lines, describing it as a superfi cial and formal unity but denying it the ability to foster any genuine interpersonal communion. “Rather than ‘cohere’ directly to one another,” he writes, citizens of the liberal state “relate to each other through the state by the formal mechanism of contract.” 50 Cavanaugh does not depict the Church specifi cally in terms of sobornost ’, but he offers a similar vision of the Church as a polyhypostatic communion. The Church is a eucharistic community for Cavanaugh, and the eucharistic focus recovers the horizontal dimension of true community that Khomiakov made a hallmark of sobornost ’:

The Eucharist aims at the building of the Body of Christ which is not simply centripetal; we are united not just to God as to the centre but to one another. This is no liberal body, in which the centre seeks to maintain the independence of individuals from each other, nor a fascist body, which seeks to bind individuals to each other through the centre. Christ is indeed the Head of the Body, but the members do not relate to one another through the Head alone, for Christ Himself is found not only in the centre but at the margins of the Body, radically identifi ed with ‘the least of my brothers and sisters’ … [I]n Christ the dichotomy of centre and periphery is overcome. 51

Union with Christ is once again inseparable from communion with one’s neighbor. Ecclesial society does not merely serve the extrinsic goals of self- seeking individuals, but pulls individuals into loving reciprocity for its own sake, freeing us from the isolation of sinful individuality in proportion to our advancement toward deifying union with God. Cavanaugh’s political theology thus rests on the same basic dichotomy between the theocentric and anthropocentric personological paradigms, or between individualism and communalism, that Horujy has identifi ed in the Slavophile-Westernizer debate. He posits the same inherent incompatibility between the Church and the liberal state that the Slavophiles draw between the Russian commune and the feudal manor, between sobornost ’ and external state power. For both Cavanaugh and the Slavophiles, this perceived incompatibility calls into question the very possibility of mean- ingful Christian political action through the mechanisms of statecraft. “It should be obvious that state power is the last thing that Christians should want,” Cavanaugh asserts. If the liberal state is founded upon a perverse anthropology of possessive individualism and cannot but enact a social unity that is antithetical to the decentralized communion enacted by the SOBORNOST’, STATE AUTHORITY, AND CHRISTIAN SOCIETY... 193 body of Christ, then Christian attempts to act politically through the state are “worse than futile.” 52 The state will never be able to cultivate the free and peaceful communion of Christ’s Church through violent and coercive means, and to become entangled in the politics of the state is to risk losing sight of the Church’s own distinctive political witness. Instead, Cavanaugh thinks that Christians must engage in politics by simply being the Church, that is, by enacting the body of Christ as a direct challenge to the authority of the state. At fi rst glance, the Slavophile approach to the state appears to be radically different from Cavanaugh’s, because despite the “anarchic” element of the Slavophiles’ treatments of the Church and the commune, they nevertheless remained staunch defenders of the tsarist autocracy. Surprisingly, however, their support for the autocracy follows as a direct consequence of their critique of external authority, and this places them much closer to Cavanaugh than one might suppose. The Slavophiles imagine pre-Petrine Russia as a union of two distinct spheres of national life: the state , or the external and compulsory dimension of society, and the land , or the traditional religious and communal life of the people, the whole range of their social and economic relations governed by the principles of sobornost ’, a kind of obshchina writ large. The relationship between land and the state is guided by a principle of mutual non-interference . The Slavophiles never deny the need for external authority, however much they want to minimize it. Instead, they relegate the external aspects of governance—in administration, foreign relations, national defense, and so on—entirely to the sphere of the state, or “the tsar’s business.” But the state exists for the land, and the specifi c role of the state in managing the external matters of social life is simply to establish the external conditions that are minimally necessary for sobornost ’ to fl ourish. According to Susanna Rabow-Edling, “The state had a duty towards the people to safeguard and protect their way of life; to give them material security; and to provide them with all the means and ways necessary to prosper, attain their full development, and fulfi ll their moral destiny.” 53 Within the sphere of the state, the tsar’s authority must be singular and absolute, but the state has no legitimate right to interfere with the inner life of the land, which is to be left to the people in their moral and spiritual freedom. Indeed, for the Slavophiles, the entire point of autocracy was to preserve the people’s spiritual freedom, hence the need for a strict delineation between the sphere of autocratic authority and the sphere of religious- 194 N. WOOD communal life. But the principle of mutual non-interference equally demands the people’s non-involvement in the management of the state; it leaves no room for democratic politics. Democracy is concerned with the state , that is, with the external and contractual dimensions of social relations; but external law, even democratically established, cannot mandate real communion. Democratic participation risks diverting the people’s social engagement away from the personal immediacy of sobornost ’ toward the externalizing and coercive mechanisms of the state, the Slavophiles feared, and at its worst, it threatened to erode the bonds of communion altogether, replacing them with the competitive, contract-based relations of modern capitalist, liberal-democratic societies. With this worry in mind, the Slavophiles sought to “depoliticize” social life. Strictly speaking, they did not want political freedom for the land, but rather the land’s freedom from politics , or freedom from the concerns of statecraft. As Aksakov writes, “The Russian people is not a people concerned with government; that is to say, it has no aspiration toward self- government, no desire for political rights.” 54 Rather, the Russian people “reserved for themselves life —their moral and communal freedom, the high purpose of which is to achieve a Christian society.” 55 The main function of autocracy was to provide a buffer between the land and the state. By taking on the necessary burdens of statecraft, the tsar freed the people to focus on what was most important: the work of living out sobornost ’ in spiritual freedom—or “being to the Church,” to put it in Cavanaugh’s terms. Therefore, odd as it may seem, the Slavophiles’ defense of autocracy is based in a similar logic to that which underlies Cavanaugh’s critique of the state. If Cavanaugh fears that tying Christian politics too closely to the politics of the liberal state risks deforming the Christian social ideal by translating it into an incommensurable secular idiom, then the Slavophiles similarly fear that the Christian community should be absorbed by the state from the bottom up, reordering the people’s social relations along anti-Christian lines. Assigning the sole responsibility of statecraft to the autocrat was a way to preserve the absolute independence of ecclesial society. The Slavophiles’ approach to autocracy is thus a critique of the modern tsars, not a conservative apology for the status quo. If democracy threatened to collapse the land into the state from the bottom up, then Peter’s reforms threatened to do the same from the top down. After the reforms, Aksakov argues, the “ancient union of the land and the state was torn asunder and replaced by a domination of the state over the land, so that SOBORNOST’, STATE AUTHORITY, AND CHRISTIAN SOCIETY... 195 the land of Russia became, as it were, conquered territory and the state its conqueror.” 56 To maintain its authority over the land, the state had to subordinate all rival authorities to itself, in a process that resembles Cavanaugh’s narrative of the invention and privatization of “religion” as a strategy of domestication. The abolition of the Moscow Patriarchate and its replacement with the Holy Synod in 1721, the reduction of the clergy to civil servants, and other suppressive measures undermined the Church’s independence from state interests. All this was necessary, according to Feofan Prokopovich, the main theological apologist for the Holy Synod, so that the Church would not appear as a rival authority to the state, luring the people to “turn their eyes more to the Supreme Pastor than to the Emperor.” 57 However, despite the dangers posed by the tsarist state, the Slavophiles still maintained that state authority plays an essential role in Christian politics. The Orthodox ideal of a church-state symphonia remains key to Slavophile thought. The same is not true of Cavanaugh, who displays a stronger (and more typically American) anti-statism. Cavanaugh limits his treatment of state authority to the modern nation-state, with its pseudo- soteriological aspirations, and assigns it no essential, positive role in Christian politics. Christian engagement in state politics is, at best, a con- cession to the unfortunate necessities of the fallen order. Cavanaugh offers little sense of how the Church and the state (liberal or otherwise) might be real partners in pursuit of common ends, while for the Slavophiles, such partnership defi nes the proper theological function of state authority. But when the symphonic ideal gave way to the Church’s subservience to the state, what Russian political theology needed above all was to recover for the Church an independent social witness. The mutual non-interference doctrine, like Cavanaugh’s ecclesial counter-politics, is basically an attempt at such recovery. In practice, however, it risked becoming a fl ight from politics, handing over governance to secular forces at odds with the Church’s mission. According to Florovsky, the short- coming of Slavophilism “lies precisely in its escape or even retreat from history. The Slavophiles wished to free themselves from a historical or ‘political’ burden and ‘leave’ it to another.” 58 Having recovered a thirst for the Church’s independence from state authority, the remaining task for Slavophile political theology was to discern the Church’s proper role in transforming a state authority that had lost sight of its holy purpose. Tragically, Slavophilism ultimately ended up retreating into a moral idealism that failed to offer a clear path beyond the post-Petrine arrangement. 196 N. WOOD

By leaving the work of politics to a corrupt autocracy, the mutual non- interference doctrine, intended to safeguard the life of the Church from state domination, inadvertently reinforced that domination. Nevertheless, Slavophilism’s new “experiment” was a necessary stage in the development of a modern Russian political theology. The task of later Russian political theologians, like the great Vladimir Soloviev and Sergei Bulgakov, was to fi nd a way to affi rm the fundamental insights of that experiment—ecclesial sobornost ’ and its incompatibility with coercive state authority—without leading the Church away from the concrete engagement with state politics that was required to transform the present order. The tension between these two poles of Christian politics—the freedom of the Church from the state and the need to act through the state—became a central question in Russian political theology in the years surrounding 1917, and it remains a vexing problem as we assess the proposals of fi gures like Cavanaugh today. To what extent can the Church of sobornost ’ participate in state politics, and even use the mechanisms of the state against the state’s own disordered interests, without losing sight of its own fi rst principles? I have no space to offer my own answer to that question here, but it is my hope that closer attention to Slavophile social thought as a political theology , and to its later responses and developments by other Russian theologians, can open up new ways of thinking about the question in the future.

NOTES 1. Andrzej Walicki, A History of Russian Thought from the Enlightenment to Marxism (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1979), 91. 2. Sergey Horujy, “Slavophiles, Westernizers, and the Birth of Russian Philosophical Humanism,” trans. Patrick Lally Michelson, in A History of Russian Philosophy 1830–1930 : Faith , Reason , and the Defense of Human Dignity , eds. G. M. Hamburg and Randall A. Poole (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 37. 3. Andrzej Walicki, Legal Philosophies of Russian Liberalism (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987), 34. 4. Walicki, History , 107. 5. V. V. Zenkovsky, A History of Russian Philosophy , Vol. 1, trans. George L. Kline (New York: Columbia University Press, 1953), 187. 6. Georges Florovsky, The Ways of Russian Theology , Part Two , trans. Robert L. Nichols (United States: Büchervertriebsanstalt, 1987), 17. 7. Ibid., 19. SOBORNOST’, STATE AUTHORITY, AND CHRISTIAN SOCIETY... 197

8. Horujy, 46. 9. Aleksei Khomiakov, To the Serbs : An Epistle from Moscow , in A Documentary History of Russian Thought from Enlightenment to Marxism , trans. and eds. W. J. Leatherbarrow and D. C. Offord (Ann Arbor: Ardis Publishers, 1987), 93–94. 10. Ivan Kireevsky, “On the Nature of European Culture and Its Relation to the Culture of Russia: A Letter to Count E. E. Komorovskii,” in Russian Intellectual History : An Anthology , ed. Marc Raeff (New Jersey: Humanities Press, 1978), 207. 11. Kireevsky, “A Reply to Khomiakov” in Leatherbarrow and Offord, 82. 12. Kireevsky, “European Culture,” 199. 13. C. B. Macpherson, The Political Theory of Possessive Individualism : Hobbes to Locke (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1962), 3. 14. John Locke, The Second Treatise of Government : An Essay Concerning the True Original , Extent , and End of Civil Government , in Two Treatises of Government , ed. Peter Laslett (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 269. 15. Kireevsky, “European Culture,” 187. 16. Adam Smith, An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1976), 18. 17. Macpherson, 270. 18. Kireevsky, “European Culture,” 199. 19. Kireevsky, “Reply,” 83. 20. While the idea of kenosis runs throughout his anthropology, the term itself is not one that Aksakov or the other Slavophiles had at their disposal. The term was popularized in Russia at the end of the century through the work of Mikhail Tareev. For more information of Tareev’s infl uence, see Hermann- Josef Rohrig, Kenosis : Die Versuchungen Jesu Christi im Denken von Michail M. Tareev (Erfurt: Benno-Verlag, 2000). 21. Zenkovsky, 236. 22. Quoted in Horujy, 42. 23. Daniel Rancour-Laferriere, The Slave Soul of Russia : Moral Masochism and the Cult of Suffering (New York: NYU Press, 1995), 41. 24. Quoted in Horujy, 42. 25. Kireevsky, “Reply,” 84. 26. Horujy, 45. 27. Khomiakov, “The Church is One,” in On Spiritual Unity : A Slavophile Reader , trans. and eds. Boris Jakim and Robert Bird (Hudson, NY: Lindisfarne Books, 1998), 39. 28. Ibid.,17. 29. Khomiakov, “Some Remarks by an Orthodox Christian Concerning the Western Communions, on the Occasion of a Letter Published by the Archbishop of Paris” in Jakim and Bird, 85. 198 N. WOOD

30. Khomiakov, “Some Remarks by an Orthodox Christian Concerning the Western Communions, on the Occasion of a Brochure by Mr. Laurentie,” in Jakim and Bird, 59. 31. Khomiakov, “Archbishop of Paris,” 112. 32. Khomiakov, “Mr. Laurentie,” 59. 33. Ibid. 34. Khomiakov, “Archbishop of Paris,” 84. 35. N. O. Lossky, History of Russian Philosophy (New York: International Universities Press, 1951), 41. A few pages earlier, Lossky expresses the same idea in more theological terms, describing sobornost ’ as “the combination of unity and freedom based upon the love of God and His truth and the mutual love of all who love God” (37). 36. Khomiakov, “Mr. Laurentie,” 58. 37. Khomiakov, “The Church is One,” 46–47. 38. Ibid., 49. 39. Ibid., 48. 40. Ibid., 49. 41. Kireevsky, “Reply,” 87. 42. See, e.g., Konstantin Aksakov, “Memorandum to Alexander II on the Internal State of Russia,” in Raeff, 230–251. 43. Derek Offord, “Alexander Herzen,” in Hamburg and Poole, 54. 44. William Cavanaugh, Theopolitical Imagination : Christian Practices of Space and Time (Edinburgh: Bloomsbury T & T Clark, 2003), 13. 45. Ibid., 17. 46. Ibid., 18. 47. Ibid., 19. 48. Cavanaugh, Torture and Eucharist : Theology , Politics , and the Body of Christ (Malden, Mass.: Blackwell, 1998). 49. Cavanaugh, Theopolitical Imagination , 44. 50. Ibid., 45. 51. Ibid., 49. 52. Ibid., 46. 53. Susanna Rabow-Edling, Slavophile Thought and the Politics of Cultural Nationalism (New York: SUNY Press, 2006), 122. 54. Aksakov, “Memorandum,” 231. 55. Ibid., 234. 56. Aksakov, “Memorandum,” 243. 57. Quoted in Daniel Pospielovsky, The Orthodox Church in the History of Russia (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1998), 112. 58. Florovsky, 19. CHAPTER 10

Church and State in England: A Fragile Establishment

Mark D. Chapman

Of the 38 member Churches of the Anglican Communion, the Church of England stands out as the only Church which is formally established. Beyond the confi nes of the Anglican Communion, at least in liberal democracies, the number of established Churches is not great. Even in Scandinavia things have begun to change with the disestablishment of the Swedish Church in the year 2000. 1 In most of Catholic Europe, Churches have long been disestablished, even though in some places they still enjoy many privileges. It is even more striking that England retains an established Church since its levels of religious practice and belonging are among the lowest in the Christian world. Usual Sunday attendance in the Church of England has halved from 1.6 million in 1968 to less than 800,000 in 2013 in a population of about 54 million. Baptismal rates have fallen to less than 12 % of live births, and in some parts of the country, especially in London and the Southeast, rates are well under 10 %. Congregations are aging and religious practice has sunk to very low level among people under 30. 2 The situation in England is very different from some other countries which retain an established Church and where Church attendance is very low, as, for instance, in Denmark. Unlike England, nominal Christianity is still strong in Denmark which still has a

M. D. Chapman ( ) Ripon College, Oxford University, Oxford , UK

Church membership of about 80 % of the population and where approximately 75 % of babies were baptized in 2013. 3 Despite its very modest size and rapid decline, the Church of England remains established, unlike the other Anglican Churches of the British Isles: the Church of Ireland was disestablished in 1870 and the Church in Wales in 1914 (although it was not put into effect until after the First World War in 1920). The Episcopal Church in Scotland was never established having emerged as a breakaway Church from the established Church of Scotland following the accession of William and Mary in 1688. 4 The Church of Scotland itself has developed a very different form of establishment from that of the Church of England in which there is no political representation or infl uence in appointments. The different forms of establishment in England and Scotland point to an obvious problem: “establishment” is a term that is notoriously diffi cult to defi ne. It has sometimes been used very loosely to mean a Church with universal coverage through the geographical parish system and which has blurred boundaries and loose membership and which opens up its services and ministries to all comers. Wesley Carr has called this form of establishment “earthed” establishment. He distinguishes it from “high” establishment by which he means the very close legal relationships of the Church to the different institutions of the state. 5 My concern in this chapter is with this “high” form of establishment. My aim is to illustrate something of the complexity of Church-state relationships in history and also as they have been exercised during key controversies of the past 30 or so years relating to women in ministry and later to same-sex marriage. What I will show is that the stability of establishment depended in part on a sense of Anglican hegemony in Parliament which meant that politicians were both interested in the Church while at the same time still able to see themselves as in some sense a lay synod which represented the religious views of the majority. I conclude by suggesting that this is no longer the case: what Eliza Filby calls “Tory Anglicanism” 6 has been virtually extinguished, which means that the Church of England is no longer recognized by most in politics as having any inherent particular rights or special legitimacy as the religious voice of the nation.

ESTABLISHMENT IN THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND In the case of the Church of England high establishment is something that has grown by accretion in an unplanned way over many centuries. It is principally tied up with Church representation in the upper house of Parliament, as well as the role of the Crown and the Executive in the per- CHURCH AND STATE IN ENGLAND: A FRAGILE ESTABLISHMENT 201 son of the Prime Minister in the Church’s affairs. Fundamental to English establishment is the fact that all clergy are required to swear their oath of allegiance to the Crown. The Church of England is thus not a free Church in a free state: Ecclesiastical Canons still have to receive royal assent before they can be put into effect, a system that was introduced in the suite of Church reforms in the 1530s. These led to the separation of the Church of England from Rome and gave signifi cant “Caesaro-papal” powers to the monarch as Supreme Head (later Supreme Governor) of the Church of England. 7 The Royal Supremacy was rapidly assumed by the Sovereign- in- Parliament, which conferred a second level of legitimacy on the Church of England which derived not from the offi ces of its episcopal leaders, but from the authority stemming from the laity under a divinely-anointed monarch (who appointed the bishops in the fi rst place). These measures effectively created a lay veto over all Church legislation. It remains true that the authority of General Synod, especially the House of Laity, is delegated by Parliament which itself still derives its ultimate authority from the privileges conferred on it by a laywoman who receives a religious anoint- ing framed in the context of a Church of England Communion Service (even if the British Constitution now prevents that person from asserting that authority). 8 It is also important to note that opposition to such a form of establishment is as old as the Church of England: indeed, many of the demands of the so-called puritans in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries concerned the rights of the Church and the congregation to govern itself without interference either from the Crown and/or Parliament or from the King’s or Queen’s bishops. Indeed, the English Civil War in the 1640s was in part a war of religion between those seeking different forms of religious establishment. The Crown through the offi ce of the Prime Minister remains involved in the appointment of senior clergy, including diocesan bishops and cathedral deans. Although in recent years a 12-member Crown Nominations Commission, six elected by the General Synod and six from the Diocese concerned, has taken on the task of appointing diocesan bishops, names are still recommended to the Prime Minister, who retains the ultimate authority to appoint. 9 The Church of England in turn still has a whole range of privileges: most importantly, 26 of its bishops sit as “Lords Spiritual” in the House of Lords. Representation of ecclesiastical dignitaries goes back to the very beginnings of Parliament where it also included the heads of the larger abbeys. This was retained after the Reformation under Henry VIII, even if with the dissolution of the monasteries it was limited solely to the bishops of England and Wales. 10 The Diocesan Bishop of Sodor and Man, whose 202 M.D. CHAPMAN diocese is part of the Church of England but where the UK Parliament does not have jurisdiction, sits as a member of the Tynwald, the Isle of Man’s ancient Parliament in another form of established Church. The one other diocesan bishop who does not sit in Parliament is the Bishop in Europe, whose administers a diocese which relates to a whole range of different juris- dictions and in which the Church of England is not established. With the expansion of the numbers of bishops and dioceses in the mid-nineteenth century a fi gure of 26 bishops was eventually agreed upon. Five sit by right (Canterbury, York, London, Durham, and Winchester), while the others are appointed in order of seniority (although recent legislation allows for women diocesan bishops, who have been appointed since 2015, to be “fast- tracked” into the House of Lords). The relationships between Parliament and the Church were extremely close through much of the Church of England’s history: indeed for much of the post-reformation period the Crown-in-Parliament was effectively sovereign over the Church, especially after the suspension of Convocation, the Church’s ancient clerical representative body, in 1717. It did not sit again, except in a purely ceremonial way, until the 1860s when it became clear that some sort of self-government was necessary for the Church, partly because Parliamentary time was becoming increasingly scarce at the same time as the Church was becoming increasingly busy in a period of rapid population expansion. Through the nineteenth century there were many from different quarters who sought various forms of self-government for the Church, although few within the Church of England itself sought complete disestablishment. Even after the conferring of a degree of self-government for the Church of England in 1919 through the so-called Enabling Act (The Church of England Assembly [Powers] Act), 11 Parliament retained an effective power of veto. 12 The Act created the Church Assembly, which was a combined body of the lower and upper houses of Convocation and a new House of Laity. It offered far from complete self-government for the Church, however, since many measures had to be returned for discussion and ratifi cation in Parliament after consideration by the Ecclesiastical Committee which was composed of 15 members from each of the Houses of Parliament. 13

CONFLICTS BETWEEN CHURCH AND STATE Parliamentary approval for Ecclesiastical Measures could not be assumed: most importantly, the 1928 revision of the Book of Common Prayer 14 was rejected by Parliament which led to something of a constitutional CHURCH AND STATE IN ENGLAND: A FRAGILE ESTABLISHMENT 203 crisis and many calls for disestablishment, most famously Bishop Hensley Henson of Durham. 15 The relationship of Parliament and the Church Assembly and its successor body, the General Synod, is highly complex: at least historically, Parliament, in which the Church is represented, can be said to a large extent to express public opinion—including obviously in religious matters—in which case it might challenge the authority of the Church’s own synods. Confl icts between two competing houses of laity— the House of Commons and the House of Laity—could thus easily arise. The 1916 report on Church and State, which led to the setting up of the Church Assembly, was very clear about the role of the laity but did not envisage confl ict: “It is of great importance to make it plain that when we are pleading for the restoration of autonomy to the Church, we mean the Church and not only the clergy.” 16 Similarly, Archbishop Cosmo Gordon Lang noted in a sermon preached shortly after the creation of the Church Assembly in 1919 that “every man or woman who professes allegiance to the Church is now invested with a personal responsibility for its welfare, for the success or failure of its Divine Mission.” At the same time he observed that “all depends upon the spirit, the motive, the purpose, the outlook with which Churchpeople enter the new era, upon the character which is impressed upon it at its start.” 17 However, it soon became clear that if the Church has its own House of Laity to which powers have been delegated, but where Parliament remains constitutionally superior to the Church Assembly, then there could easily be a confl ict of interests, as happened in the bitter 1928 Prayer Book crisis. With the setting up of the General Synod in 1969, which in practice was a signifi cant revision of the Church Assembly rather than a new body, there was still a requirement for Parliamentary consideration through the Ecclesiastical Committee, whose membership was left untouched. The 1966 report Government by Synod , which led to the creation of the General Synod during the archiepiscopate of Michael Ramsey, was extremely cautious in its recommendations lest it should invite the opprobrium of Parliament. Indeed, the Church Assembly mutated into the General Synod without the need for Parliamentary legislation. 18 Nevertheless the General Synod was given signifi cantly more autonomy by Parliament, including over most liturgical matters (although the Book of Common Prayer remained untouchable which meant all new services were “alternatives” rather than normative). The introduction of the Alternative Services Book in 1980 provoked a strong reaction in Parliament initiated by Viscount Cranborne, an MP and 204 M.D. CHAPMAN heir to the Salisbury title. His Bill to protect the Prayer Book introduced in 1981 succeeded in gaining the support of a majority in the House of Lords, even though he later withdrew it. In 1984 the Bill was reintro- duced by Lord Sudely, who withdrew it after Robert Runcie, Archbishop of Canterbury, gave assurances that the Prayer Book would be protected. 19 This means that, even as late as 1981, there were still a signifi cant number of predominantly Tory MPs and members of the House of Lords who retained a vision of the old Church and State unity which saw Parliament as a legitimate expression of the will of the laity. Such a system had after all dominated the English political system through the whole history of the Church of England after its separation from Rome. It survived remarkably intact at least until the repeal of the Test and Corporation Acts in 1828 which allowed non-conformists full political rights and the Emancipation of Roman Catholics the following year. Such actions by the state were the well-known catalysts behind the Oxford Movement which began to question the legitimacy of the Anglican constitution, even if few ventured into outright support of disestablishment. 20 Some Tories still felt the old order was alive and well in the 1980s.

WOMEN CLERGY AND PARLIAMENT Ratifi cation by the Parliamentary Ecclesiastical Committee of General Synod measures was still not a foregone conclusion through the rest of the 1980s. For instance, the Committee rejected the efforts by the General Synod to allow for the ordination of divorcees and those married to divorcees. This move held up the legislation, even if it ultimately passed in 1990 after it was returned to Parliament. Later, during the long Parliamentary process following the passing of the Measure which paved the way for women priests by General Synod in 1992, the Church was constrained as it sought to put the measure into effect by having to account for the views of the Ecclesiastical Committee. As Judith Maltby has persuasively argued, such political considerations forced the Church to fi nd ways of accommo- dating those clergy and parishes who remained opposed to the legislation that were signifi cantly more far reaching than those incorporated into the original Measure. 21 In the House of Commons’ debate on 29 October 1993 those arguing in favor of further safeguards for opponents of the ordination of women formed a coalition from across the parties, including the Labour MP Frank Field, Simon Hughes, a Liberal Democrat, as well as Patrick Cormack, a Conservative. All argued vehemently in Parliament CHURCH AND STATE IN ENGLAND: A FRAGILE ESTABLISHMENT 205 that the priest opponents—young and old—needed a full fi nancial package if they were forced to leave the Anglican ministry, and parishes required oversight from sympathetic bishops who refused to ordain women if they chose to stay: it was only when the Church promised it would deliver such a package that the measure was guaranteed a smooth passage through the Committee. These Parliamentary threats led to the rather hastily drawn- up Act of Synod, which set up Suffragan bishops to exercise “extended episcopal oversight” in petitioning parishes and who were quickly referred to as “fl ying bishops.” The overriding interests of the conservative minority in the Church were protected by an Ecclesiastical Committee that was itself socially conservative, and whose members, even when they supported women priests—as was the case with Field and Hughes—did not regard the promotion of equality as the overriding value. There were many fi gures in the Conservative Party at this period who were passionate in their opposition to women priests and in their support of the old Church-State settlement. Among Conservatives Ann Widdecombe spoke of her “utter grief and anger” with the women priests’ legislation and felt it undermined the whole moral basis of the Church which appeared to be succumbing to the spirit of the age. In the House of Commons’ debate of 29 October, 22 Widdecombe was asked by Clare Short, a former Roman Catholic Labour MP, why she felt so much bitterness. She replied that her feelings went even further than bitterness:

It is utter grief and anger, which sometimes sounds like bitterness. It is utter disbelief at what has been going on, that we have not only managed to con- secrate bishops who do not believe in the resurrection and the virgin birth, but that we cannot get our moral message across. Yes, I am very angry.

Widdecombe had shortly beforehand been received into the Roman Catholic Church. The same choice was taken by another Conservative opponent, John Gummer, who also spoke of his own personal anguish about the measure. He thought that “when the Measure is passed we will be excluded from the Church of England and a great part of its way of presenting the gospel to England will be damaged.” He went on to claim that this destroyed the very basis of Anglican comprehensiveness which in turn threatened the

whole basis of the Elizabethan settlement, which sought to create a Church of the nation in which everybody, except those who were at the extreme ends, could worship together. It did not succeed and perhaps it was wrong, 206 M.D. CHAPMAN

but that was what it attempted, and that is what has made the Church of England so different. There has now been a denial of that attempt because a section of the population who could once be members of the Church of England now cannot be.

In the end, however, there were only 21 votes against the Church of England (Ordination of Women) Measure, with 215 in favor. Although Parliamentary threats certainly frightened the Church of England into creating extra provisions for opponents of women’s ordination, the over- whelming vote in favor indicates that Parliament had begun to behave very differently from only 12 years previously over Lord Cranbourne’s Bill which had commanded a majority. This certainly reveals the beginning of the death of Tory Anglicanism. Things had changed completely by 2010 during the lengthy process of the legislation that allowed for women to be ordained as bishops which led to particularly heated debates in General Synod. Tony Baldry, the new second Church Estates Commissioner, the MP who speaks on Church of England matters in the House of Commons, who had recently been appointed by the new Coalition Government headed by Prime Minister David Cameron, was very clear in his speech to the July General Synod that the mood of Parliament had changed completely since 1993. There was little Parliamentary interest in disaffected opponents and far more support for what he called the “equality agenda” among all MPs of whatever party. His scarcely veiled threat was that if women bishops were to be appointed they would have to be the exact equal of male bishops: “I have to advise Synod that it would be a diffi cult enough task in this new context to explain why the Church has thought it necessary to make provision for those with theological diffi culties about women’s ordination.” It would become impossible “if I had to steer through the House of Commons any Measure which left a scintilla of a suggestion that women bishops were in some way to be second-class bishops.” He concluded: “whatever future changes Synod does or does not make to the draft legislation, therefore, in my view it is crucial that it confers the same legal authority and responsibilities on women diocesan bishops as on their male counterparts.” 23 When the Measure was fi nally carried in General Synod in 2014 the passage through the House of Commons was swift with not a single voice of opposition, although there were a few reservations expressed about the provisions for those opposed and the Church’s exemption from equality legislation. Most speeches, including that of Chris Bryant, a former CHURCH AND STATE IN ENGLAND: A FRAGILE ESTABLISHMENT 207

Church of England priest, simply noted that it had been a long time coming. 24 Far from holding the Church of England back from further change as had happened in the 1980s, Parliament was now encouraging further moves toward equality. In the House of Lords there was a similar mood of encouragement and scarcely any reservations: even Lord Cormack, who had been so vigorous in his opposition to the alternative services, and who remained opposed to the ordination of women, simply expressed his “hope that all of your Lordships, whether members of the Church of England or not, spare a thought for those of us for whom this is not a day of unalloyed rejoicing—although I do rejoice with those who are particularly happy that this Measure is before us tonight.” 25 Tory Anglicanism, which was in its death throes in 1993, had simply evaporated as a viable political force by 2014.

SAME-SEX MARRIAGE The tensions between Parliament and Church were even more obvious during the passage of the legislation on same-sex marriage through the British Houses of Parliament in 2013: where the Church of England, which opposed the changes, might once have expected support from a Tory Anglicanism which was particularly well represented in the unre- formed House of Lords, it soon became clear that Church stood out on a limb and was completely out of line with both public and Parliamentary opinion. This raises obvious questions about precisely how far the Church can depart from the general ethical mood of society and still be able to enjoy the benefi ts of establishment. One might consequently ask: if bishops are no longer representing the religious and moral tone of the nation, then in what sense can they assume that their status will be cherished and protected into the future? If their voice is simply that of a small sectarian minority quite out of touch with popular opinion, then Parliamentarians are very likely to question the future of bishops in the House of Lords along with other aspects of establishment. The Church of England was very fi rm in its response to the consultation on the proposed legislation on same-sex marriage. Completely rejecting the proposals, it supported what it claimed was a traditional understanding “of marriage as the union of a man and a woman, as enshrined in human institutions throughout history.” It went on to suggest that marriage “benefi ts society in many ways, not only by promoting mutuality and fi delity, but also by acknowledging an underlying biological comple- 208 M.D. CHAPMAN mentarity which, for many, includes the possibility of procreation.” While acknowledging that we “have supported various legal changes in recent years to remove unjustifi ed discrimination and create greater legal rights for same sex couples and we welcome that fact that previous legal and material inequities between heterosexual and same-sex partnerships have now been satisfactorily addressed,” 26 the Church’s response nevertheless claimed that there would be no obvious gains on civil partnerships and that “imposing for essentially ideological reasons a new meaning on a term as familiar and fundamental as marriage would be deeply unwise.” 27 The same unequivocal position was maintained through the course of the debates in Parliament despite the safeguards included in the Bill that exempted the Church from having to perform same-sex marriages. Strains on establishment were demonstrated by the need to have such exemptions from the obligation to perform same-sex marriages written into law: up until that point all people—Christian or not—had the right to a fi rst marriage in their Church of England parish Church, which was patently no longer the case after the Act came into force. In a set of briefi ng notes for MPs presented during the second reading in the House of Commons, the Church claimed that its concerns were less about the “potential impact of the policy on its own doctrine or practices,” but rather “in large part about what we believe to be its detrimental societal impact.” 28 In a similar briefi ng paper offered during the second reading in the House of Lords, an emphasis was placed on the ade- quacy of civil partnerships (which had been accepted by some in the Church):

Civil partnerships have proved themselves as an important way to address past inequalities faced by LGBT people and already confer the same rights as marriage. To apply uniformity of treatment to objectively different sorts of relationship—as illustrated by the remaining unanswered questions about consummation and adultery—is an unwise way of promoting LGBT equality. 29

However, it quickly became clear through the course of the debate that very few politicians shared many of the Church’s reservations about the desirability of same-sex marriage. The disjunction between Church and Parliament clearly demonstrates the end of Tory Anglicanism and also reveals a complete transformation of public opinion which was content with the complete acceptance of openly gay MPs in all parties. Indeed, it would have been unthinkable only 20 years earlier for a Bill allowing for same-sex marriage to be introduced under a CHURCH AND STATE IN ENGLAND: A FRAGILE ESTABLISHMENT 209 conservative Prime Minister of a Coalition Government and supported by the leaders of the three major parties. The Marriage (Same Sex Couples) Bill for England and Wales passed through all three readings in House of Commons unamended and was approved on 21 March 2013 by 366 votes to 161 on a free vote. 30 When the Bill was sent to the House of Lords, however, there was a signifi cant level of disagreement in which the bishops, including the Archbishop of Canterbury, played a major role over a two- day debate. 31 The mechanism used by the Church was to support a wrecking motion at the second reading stage: by convention second readings are rarely opposed. Had the opponents been successful they would have killed the Bill completely. Lord Dear, who had been Chief Constable of the West Midlands Police, in introducing his amendment not to approve the second reading spoke about the need not “to blunder into a legal, theological, moral and sociological minefi eld.” Several bishops intervened in the debate, with the Archbishop of Canterbury commenting on the confusion which would happen to the nature of marriage if the Bill passed:

Marriage is abolished, redefi ned and recreated, being different and unequal for different categories…. The concept of marriage as a normative place for procreation is lost. The idea of marriage as a covenant is diminished. The family in its normal sense, predating the state and as our base community of society, as we have already heard, is weakened.

It might be remembered, however, that the arguments surrounding the Deceased Wife’s Sister Bills which ran from 1835 to 1907 were remarkably similar: many in the Church of England felt that it would mark the end of Christian marriage by countenancing polygamy. However, once it was eventually accepted, the whole problem was quickly forgotten. 32 In the debate, the Bishop of Leicester went as far as quoting an article by John Milbank which differentiated between a privative and traditional or conjugal understanding of marriage: “As sociologists regularly observe, this gain in freedom for one generation may imply a loss for the next. Regardless of the best intentions of advocates of equality, if we detach the procreation of children as being one of the core purposes of marriage, then no social institution enshrines that purpose for the generations ahead.” This again was hardly an argument that was likely to persuade many: it is implausible to suggest the human race will die out because of same-sex marriage. In relation to the themes of this chapter, perhaps the most interesting contribution was from Peter Foster, Bishop of Chester, 210 M.D. CHAPMAN who, in a somewhat idiosyncratic speech, mentioned The Submission of the Clergy Act of 1533. This, he claimed, “provides that the Church must not promulgate canons that are contrary to what the Explanatory Notes to the present Bill call ‘general law’.” He went on to suggest that the 1533 Act might also be understood as laying

a certain obligation on the state not to pass laws which are contrary to the received canon laws of the Church of England. That is how establishment has worked, because to do so would put the Church of England in a very diffi cult position. That is why Clause 1(3), on marriage, exempts our canons from the scope of the Submission of the Clergy Act. In effect, it creates an amendment to the Act without quite saying so and therefore legally permits statute law and canon law on marriage to be diametrically opposed in future on the very basic point of who can be married to whom.

While this is hardly a strong case, as Peterson and McLean note, 33 it nevertheless shows that there are some who still understand Establishment in terms of the Acts of State of the 1530s and who assume that the state still has some obligations toward the teachings of the Church of England. Not all bishops agreed with the line taken by the Church: the most notable exception in the debate was Lord Harries of Pentregarth, a life peer and the former Bishop of Oxford and an erstwhile lecturer in theological ethics. His contribution to the debate summarized the history of marriage as principally involving the “radical subservience of women” before the eighteenth century when “mutual society” became more emphasized and which, he felt, was something that could be enjoyed by same-sex couples. Similarly, one diocesan bishop, who had not yet gained a seat in the House of Lords, Nicholas Holtam of Salisbury, spoke openly in favor of the Bill. 34 Despite the Church’s opposition, however, Dear’s amendment was soundly defeated. At the end of the debate, while no serving bishop voted against Lord Dear’s amendment, fi ve abstained while nine supported it (out of a total of 390 against and 148 for). 35 Shortly afterward there was an agreement by the bishops that there was little point in further opposing the Bill.

CONCLUSION What this discussion reveals is that the tensions between Church and Parliament have been stretched to breaking point. It has become obvious that most in Parliament pay little attention to the Church especially when it is so far out of line with popular opinion. To be able to continue in its position of privilege it would seem that the Church will have to work CHURCH AND STATE IN ENGLAND: A FRAGILE ESTABLISHMENT 211 much harder to earn respect and to be seen to be representing public opinion: dogmatic and ill-thought-out arguments are unlikely to convince many. The conservative stance of the Church on same-sex relations was something for which few in the wider society had much interest or enthusiasm. In turn, the logic of failing to move with opinion is to move inexo- rably toward disestablishment: indeed, it is likely that where the Church is no longer useful for Parliament it will simply be removed. In practice this might be the only viable option in the longer term, but it is possible that the responsibilities of sitting in Parliament itself might continue to exercise a constraint on the Church’s teaching. The Tory Party reveals that a vener- able institution which has always claimed to be safeguarding British values can change. Whether the same is true of the Church of England is unclear. Unless it changes, however, it will be left in a position that matches its modest numbers and it will lose a signifi cant public voice. The Archbishop of Canterbury noted these problems in his presidential address at the July 2013 General Synod which was given only a few weeks after the vote in the House of Lords. He observed the complete change in what he called the “cultural hinterland” exhibited during the debate:

Predictable attitudes were no longer there. The opposition to the Bill, which included me and many other bishops, was utterly overwhelmed, with amongst the largest attendance in the House and participation in the debate, and majority, since 1945…. We may or may not like it, but we must accept that there is a revolution in the area of sexuality, and we have not fully heard it. 36

This means that sexuality may be the revolution that fi nally breaks the tie of Church and State unless the Church begins to change its views.

NOTES 1. See R. M. Morris (ed.), Church and State in 21st Century Britain (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 2009), esp. ch. 9 which compares the establish- ments in England and Scandinavia. For an analysis of the State Churches of northern Europe see Grace Davie, Religion in Modern Europe : a Memory Mutates (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000). 2. See Church of England, ‘Statistics for Mission’, 2013 at: https://www. Churchofengland.org/media/2112070/2013statisticsformission.pdf (accessed 2 February 2016). 3. Statistics from the Danish Government website at: https://www.dst.dk/en/ Statistik/emner/foedsler (accessed 2 February 2016). 212 M.D. CHAPMAN

4. On the different forms of establishment on both sides of the border between England and Scotland, see Iain McLean and Scot Peterson, ‘A Uniform British Establishment’ in Mark D. Chapman, Judith Maltby and William Whyte (eds), The Established Church : Past , Present and Future (London: Mowbray, 2011), 141–57. For a comparative history of the national Churches in the British Isles in a particularly formative period, see Stewart J. Brown, The National Churches of England , Ireland , and Scotland , 1801 – 46 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001). 5. See Wesley Carr, ‘A Developing Establishment’, Theology 102 (1999): 2–10. 6. Eliza Filby, ‘The death of Tory Anglicanism’, Spectator (23 November 2013): at http://www.spectator.co.uk/2013/11/beyond-belief-7/ (accessed 2 February 2016). 7. See my Anglican Theology (London: T & T Clark, 2012), ch. 2. 8. See Eric Kemp, Counsel and Consent : Aspects of the Government of the Church as exemplifi ed in the history of the English Provincial Synods (London: SPCK, 1961), 176–231. 9. It was not until 1976 following the report of the Chadwick Commission (Church and State : Report of the Archbishops ’ Commission [London: Church Information Offi ce, 1970]) that the Church of England was able to exercise a degree of control over the appointment of its bishops. From that date two names nominated by the Crown Appointments Commission were submitted to the Prime Minister with the preferred name placed fi rst. The Prime Minister was under no obligation to appoint the favored name and could ask for new names. It was only in 2007 under Gordon Brown that the system changed: he agreed that the fi rst candidate would always be accepted, which effectively made the Church responsible for its own appointments. 10. The complex relationships between synods and Parliament are explored by Eric Kemp, Counsel and Consent . 11. Act of Parliament, 9 & 10 Geo. 5 c. 76. 12. There was a succession of reports on Church and State through the twentieth century: Archbishops’ Committee on Church and State, The Archbishops ’ Committee on Church and State : Report with Appendices (London: SPCK, 1916), Archbishops’ Commission on the relations between Church and State, Church & State : Report of the Archbishops ’ Commission on the Relations between Church and State 1935 , 2 vols (London: the Press & Publications Board of the Church Assembly, 1935); Archbishops’ Commission on Church and State, Church and State : Being the Report of a Commission Appointed by the Church Assembly in June 1949 (London: Church Information Board of the Church Assembly, 1952); Church and State : report of the Archbishops ’ Commission (London: Church Information Offi ce, 1970). 13. See my essay, ‘Does the Church of England have a Theology of General Synod?’, Journal of Anglican Studies 11 (2013): 15–31. CHURCH AND STATE IN ENGLAND: A FRAGILE ESTABLISHMENT 213

14. For the Prayer Book Crisis, see John Maiden, National Religion and the Prayer Book Controversy , 1927 – 1928 (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2009); Robert Currie, ‘Power and Principle: The Anglican Prayer Book Controversy, 1927–1930,’ Church History , 33 (1964), pp. 192–205; G. I. T. Machin, ‘Parliament, the Church of England and the Prayer Book Crisis, 1927–28,’ in J. P. Parry and Stephen Taylor (eds.), Parliament and the Church , 1529 – 1960 (Parliamentary History , vol. 19) (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press for the Parliamentary History Yearbook Trust, 2000), pp. 131–47; Matthew Grimley, Citizenship , Community and the Church of England : Liberal Anglican Theories of the State between the Wars (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), ch. 4. 15. Hensley Henson, Disestablishment : The Charge Delivered at the Second Quadrennial Visitation of his Diocese , together with an introduction (London: Macmillan, 1929); John Peart-Binns, ‘Life, thought and work of Herbert Hensley Henson: establishment and disestablishment in the Church of England, 1886–1935’, Unpublished PhD, University of Leeds, 2008. More generally, see Scot M. Peterson, ‘The establishment and disestablishment of religion in Great Britain, 1906–1936: a comparative historical study’. Unpublished D.Phil, University of Oxford, 2009; Matthew Grimley, ‘The Dog that Didn’t Bark: the Failure of Disestablishment since 1927’, in Chapman, Maltby and Whyte, the Established Church , 39–55. 16. Church and State Report 1916, 31. 17. Cited in F. A. Iremonger, William Temple (London: Oxford University Press, 1948), 275. 18. Government by Synod (London: Church Information Offi ce, 1966). 19. See Liza Filby, ‘God and Mrs Thatcher: Religion and Politics in 1980s’ Britain’, University of Warwick PhD, 161. 20. Mark Chapman, ‘“A Free Church in a Free State”: Anglo-Catholicism and Establishment’ in Chapman, Maltby and Whyte, The Established Church , 56–74. 21. See Judith Maltby, ‘Gender and Establishment: Parliament, “Erastianism” and the Ordination of Women 1993–2010’, 98–123, esp. 106–10. 22. The debate is in Hansard, House of Commons, 29 October 1993, vol. 230, cols 1083–1148. at: http://www.publications.Parliament.uk/pa/cm199293/ cmhansrd/1993-10-29/Debate-6.html (accessed 2 February 2016). See Filby, ‘God and Mrs Thatcher’, 219. 23. Report of the Proceedings 2010 General Synod July Group of Sessions , vol. 41 no. 2, 1, 98–9 (10 July 2010) at: https://www.Churchofengland.org/ media/1155179/july%202010%20consolidated%20with%20index%20 (with%20full%20bookmarks).pdf (accessed 3 February 2016). 24. Debate on Bishops and Priests (Consecration and Ordination of Women) Measure in Hansard, House of Commons, 20 October 2014, cols 706–24 at: 214 M.D. CHAPMAN

http://www.publications.Parliament.uk/pa/cm201415/cmhansrd/ cm141020/debtext/141020-0002.htm (accessed 3 February 2016). 25. Debate on Bishops and Priests (Consecration and Ordination of Women) Measure in Hansard, House of Lords, 14 October 2014, cols 166–88 at: http://www.publications.Parliament.uk/pa/ld201415/ldhansrd/ text/141014-0002.htm (accessed 3 February 2016). 26. This claim is not borne out by the voting record of the bishops in the House of Lords on the earlier civil partnership legislation. The bishops who voted supported a wrecking amended six to one. See Scot Peterson and Iain McLean, Legally Married : Love and Law in the UK and the US (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2013), 193. 27. Church of England Response to the consultation on Same-Sex Marriage, June 2012 at: https://www.Churchofengland.org/media/1475149/ s-s%20marriage.pdf (accessed 3 February 2016). 28. Briefi ng paper for the House of Commons Second Reading of the Marriage (Same-Sex Couples) Bill at: https://www.Churchofengland.org/ media/1657614/ssmarriagebillbriefi ng.pdf (accessed 3 February 2016). 29. Briefi ng paper for the House of Lords Second Reading of the Marriage (Same- Sex Couples) Bill at: https://www.Churchofengland.org/media/1772772/ marriage%20same%20sex%20couples%20bill%20lords%202nd%20read- ing%20cofe%20briefi ng.pdf (accessed 3 February 2016). 30. On this, see the comprehensive survey by, Scot Peterson and Iain McLean, Legally Married , 188–94. 31. Hansard, House of Lords, 3 June 2013, cols 938–969, 980–1049. 4 June 2013, 1059–1113 at: http://www.publications.Parliament.uk/pa/ ld201314/ldhansrd/text/130604-0001.htm (accessed 3 February 2016). 32. Peterson and McLean, Legally Married , 194. On this see Timothy Willem Jones, Sexual Politics in the Church of England , 1857–1957 (Oxford University Press, 2013), ch. 1. 33. Peterson and McLean, Legally Married , 193. 34. See the press release of 30 May 2013 at: http://www.salisbury.anglican.org/ news/bishop-restates (accessed 3 February 2016). 35. The nine were: the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishops of Bristol, Birmingham, Chester, Coventry, Exeter, Hereford, London, and Winchester. The Bishops of Derby, Guildford, Leicester, Norwich, and St Edmundsbury and Ipswich abstained. 36. Presidential Address at the July 2013 General Synod, Report of Proceedings 2013 General Synod July Group of Sessions, vol. 44, no. 1, 19 at: https:// www.Churchofengland.org/media/1849272/report%20of%20proceed- ings%20july%202013.pdf (accessed 3 February 2016). CHAPTER 11

Religion and the Rising: Patrick Pearse and Easter 1916

Gerard Mannion

What happens when religion is used to inspire and motivate political rebellion, insurrection, and even revolution? This chapter explores the themes of religion, authority, and the state through engaging in a case study of the 1916 Easter Rising in Ireland, particularly with regard to the faith and writings of its primary leader, Patrick Pearse. Scholars from a wide variety of perspectives, ranging from republican through to revisionist, appear to agree that religion played a signifi cant factor in Ireland’s 1916 Easter Rising, which has recently been commemorated around the globe in a wide series of centenary events. Whether as a motivational factor for those involved in the planning and instigation of the Rising, or as a political factor with complex matters of church-state politics clouding the Catholic Church’s attitude toward the insurrection- ists both before and after the Rising, or whether in terms of the lasting legacy of the Rising where quasi-religious and spiritual themes in the mind of the populace were exploited to successful propagandist ends by those engaged in the campaign for Irish independence: religion runs throughout the story of the Rising and those whose lives it touched.

G. Mannion ( ) Georgetown University, Washington, DC, USA

This chapter will revisit the nature of the religious justifi catory arguments employed by those involved in the Rising focusing, in particular, upon Patrick Pearse 1 and recent, as well as historical, assessments of the pervasive infl uence of religion upon his political and social thought. I approach the legacy of Pearse and the Rising in the main from a moral and theological perspective, but also engaging with historical, cultural, and philosophical assessments, among other perspectives. We explore whether Pearse and other such fi gures confused, manipulated, and distorted tenets of Christian doctrine and exploited popular and cultural spirituality for naked political ends as some have suggested, or, as alternative interpreta- tive perspectives might suggest, the Rising could be viewed in an analo- gous fashion to later political theologies and theologies of liberation. In the fi nal analysis, I shall contend that Pearse’s thinking, not least of all because of parallels with various theologies of human liberation , might best be placed in the corpus of radical Christian political theology. 2

PART ONE: PATRICK PEARSE AND THE EASTER RISING

Patrick Pearse—1879–1916 The new Gaelic and nationalist consciousness that had emerged in Ireland, particularly throughout the latter stages of the nineteenth century, is epitomized by few better examples than the life and work of P. H. Pearse. Nominated to be the fi rst president of the Provisional Government of the Irish Republic, it was he who read its proclamation to a bemused audience outside the General Post Offi ce on Easter Monday. Pearse was a trained barrister, Gaelic, and literary scholar and founder of a unique bilingual school, St. Enda’s. He also enjoyed an illustrious and adventurous career as student, teacher, and lecturer and was prominent in the Gaelic League, the Irish Volunteers, and the Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB). 3 He served as Commander in Chief of the Rising. Pearse is by far the most interesting and intriguing of the 1916 leaders (with the possible exception of James Connolly). He was arguably their brightest intellectual, most gifted orator and undoubtedly possessed the most developed beliefs in the need for a righteous revolution to free ‘Mother’ Ireland in order that she might become her true Gaelic self again. In doing so, Pearse believed that Ireland would go on to take its own intellectual and moral regeneration out further into the world, thereby playing a leading role in a much wider historical and cultural RELIGION AND THE RISING: PATRICK PEARSE AND EASTER 1916 217

transformational “revolution.” 4 Hence Pearse was a visionary, albeit with a somewhat infl ated ego. Pearse’s father was an English convert to Catholicism, but also something of a radical who supported Charles Bradlaugh’s attempts to become the fi rst openly atheist MP, and who criticized the clergy when necessary— particularly over what he saw as their betrayal of Charles Stuart Parnell, the land league reformer and Irish nationalist politician. Patrick, the eldest son, shared this penchant for putting clergy and hierarchy in their place, especially whenever he believed they were failing to support an advancement of the Gaelic cause. 5 Although obviously not an absolute pacifi st, he was nonetheless a gentle man 6 who could neither bring himself to cane boys at school nor allow the fi rst looter caught during the Rising to be shot. 7 Indeed it was simply his fame, leadership, and oratorical qualities that resulted in his being placed in charge of the Rising. The likes of Thomas Clarke, Joseph Plunkett, and Sean MacDermott were more active in its planning, while James Connolly and the O’Rahilly directed military opera- tions in the rebels’ headquarters—Dublin’s General Post Offi ce (GPO). Even one of Pearse’s revisionist biographers asserts that “there is no reason to believe that he ever fi red a shot throughout the whole rising.” 8 Over many years, Pearse formulated a nationalist and revolutionary doctrine which was built upon Ireland’s Gaelic legends and history, along with the examples of rebels from his hero Wolfe Tone (1763–1798) onward, combined with a love for the poor and the natives of the Irish- speaking regions of Ireland known as the Gaeltacht. 9 Socialist in principle, if not party membership, the 1916 Proclamation of the Republic refl ects each and every one of his primary concerns and ideals, with some given a more leftward slant by James Connolly. 10 But a careful study of his life and writings demonstrates that his entire philosophy was profoundly infl uenced by his religious beliefs. 11 MacAonghusa and O’Reagain have stated his faith was “Franciscan” in character; 12 that is to say, Pearse was deeply compassionate and strove to apply the gospel to his daily life. 13 Such efforts were shaped by his belief that the central theme of the gospels was self-sacrifi ce to achieve a better life for others. Many have remarked upon his “saintly demeanor” and, indeed, Pearse’s religion can be seen to have pervaded everything that he did. 14 Even if many of his ideas and ideals went beyond the bounds of mainstream Catholic doctrine at the time, it appears that he nonetheless always believed that his intentions were fi rmly within the bounds of true Christianity. 218 G. MANNION

Hence, when Pearse developed his own doctrine of blood sacrifi ce to inspire Ireland’s revolution, he sincerely wrestled with his conscience but found it to be clear. Although he has evaded any succinct assessment, 15 we come closest to a crystallization of Pearse’s ideals in his court-martial statement, given in the aftermath of the Rising:

When I was a child of ten I went down on my bare knees by my bedside one night and promised God that I should devote my life to an effort to free my country. I have kept that promise…. We seem to have lost. We have not lost. To refuse to fi ght would have been to lose; to fi ght is to win. We have kept faith with the past, and handed on a tradition to the future . 16

In their devotion to the advancement of Ireland, Pearse and others like him knew that the Rising, like previous rebellions, would only be one major scene of the play and certainly not the fi nal act. Yet they also knew their actions would shake Ireland and the British Empire through their sheer impudence. Their legacy would be an Ireland “transformed utterly,” to use Yeats’ famous words, 17 an Ireland that would fi nally reject acquies- cence and renew its demand for national sovereignty. 18

The Formation of Pearse’s Vision Yet, far from being obsessed with death, Pearse was a man driven by a sense of purpose. 19 Indeed, religion and nationalism became so completely entwined for Pearse that “faith” and “tradition” served as watchwords for the latter as much as for the former, sanctioning revolution, above all, by the notion of sacrifi ce so prevalent in both. 20 In his writings, Pearse further developed the belief in Ireland as a land with a divine mission and, likewise, forged a unique role for himself within that tradition. Such a blend of religious imagery, Gaelic Mythology and sacrifi cial doctrine was not new in Irish nationalism, but few would ever go to such lengths, as Augustine Martin observed, to put such a philosophy into practice as Pearse did. 21 The place of religion in this scheme was more pronounced in Pearse than in any of the other 1916 leaders. 22 Cuchulain (also Cú Chulainn)—the mythical fi gure of Irish folklore who died defi antly fi ghting his enemies to the last—was another great hero of Pearse’s. Indeed, this fi gure was always a domineering “presence” at the school and Cuchulain’s motto, “I care not though I were to live but one day and one night provided my fame and deeds live after me,” was adopted RELIGION AND THE RISING: PATRICK PEARSE AND EASTER 1916 219 by St. Enda’s school, just as it had become Pearse’s own. 23 Indeed, the Cuchulain legends were to prove vital to Pearse’s fusion of nationalism and religion. Cuchulain’s death had been akin to that of Christ—strapped to a post shedding his blood for his people. Pearse was to remark that “the story of Cuchulainn (sic ) symbolises the redemption of man by a sinless God.” 24 This fi gure was to be a constant “companion” to Pearse until he, too, met his own “sacrifi cial” death. Indeed, Christ and Cuchulain were blurred role models for Pearse, both having triumphed by seemingly failing—something Pearse would foretell to be his own fate, also. Although much of Pearse’s writings on these matters are theologically unpalatable today, war and revolution have often brought such unconventional ideas to the fore. Indeed, Francis Costello has argued, “By the early 1900s, Irish nationalism had moved closer to Catholicism rendering it almost syn- onymous with Catholic Ireland.” 25 Furthermore, Europe was awash with propaganda justifying the giving of one’s life in national causes. Indeed, Costello also points out that there was little unusual about the generality of such language in Pearse, so prevalent was it among political and literary fi gures at the time, citing the Boer War, the Great War, and specifi c examples such as Kipling’s “Ulster 1912” and “British-Roman Song,” along with British propaganda concerning the “liberation of Belgium.” 26 Still, the identifi cation of Christ with Cuchulain is particularly remarkable by virtue of the fact that the latter was a pagan fi gure (who, as Francis Shaw was keen to emphasize, actually died fi ghting men of Ireland). 27 And yet Pearse was able to forge this link between paganism and Christianity, in order to show the shedding of blood was a righteous thing, precisely by an astute manipulation of the language, terminology, and absolutism he had learned from the Catholicism of his era. However, Pearse’s Catholic devotion was unquestionable nonetheless, being a daily communicant, where possible, 28 and O’Cuiv has stated that Pearse believed his “gospel of nationalism” was “In no way incompatible with the full practice of Christianity.” 29 Indeed, evidence suggests that Pearse was more than likely quite theologically literate; for example, consider his statement that:

As the body of truth which a church teaches can neither be increased nor diminished—though truths implicit in the fi rst defi nition may be made explicit in later defi nitions—so a true defi nition of freedom remains constant; it cannot be added to or subtracted from or varied in its essentials, though things implicit in it may be made explicit by a later defi nition. 30 220 G. MANNION

Pearse’s Passion Play from 1911, his 1912 play The King 31 (which tells of a Christ-like death of a sinless one to save the people), along with his numerous orations such as that at a commemoration in New York (9 March 1914) in honor of the United Irishman Robert Emmet (1778– 1803), are but a few examples of where he fuses religion with nationalism. 32 In the latter address, he clearly demonstrates his fastidious belief in the moral rectitude of his views:

The Christ who said ‘My peace I give you, my peace I leave you’, is the same Christ that said ‘I bring not peace but a sword.’ There can be no peace between the right and the wrong, between the truth and falsehood, between peace and oppression, between freedom and tyranny. 33

Hence Pearse learned the art of casuistry well from his theological studies. For Pearse, Emmet was another Irish patriot who had succeeded through what appeared to be “failure,” or, in other words, through sacrifi ce. When Pearse looked to his faith, his country’s history and its mythology, he saw only heroism, sacrifi ce, and bloodshed. He believed the time was ripe to resurrect that spirit, for Ireland to “rise again,” and—as Richard Kearney suggests 34 —for that “glorious” past to recur anew. No matter how selective his formation of ideology had been, Pearse saw only continuity and justifi cation. Thus he became increasingly convinced of the “revolution at all costs” doctrine, and turning to his heroes provided this not only with such justifi cation but, also, compatibility with his faith. As Gilley has argued, Pearse’s work shows an “easy transition … from the blood of Cuchulain to the blood of Christ and from there to the blood of the Irish political martyrs, and so to a more explicit enunciation of the underlying doctrine that the shedding of blood makes men holy.” 35

Faith Without Works Is Dead—Religion and Nationalism Entwined Desmond Ryan, a pupil, colleague, and comrade in arms of Pearse, has also highlighted that Pearse’s inspiration came from “a simple, spiritual living Christianity.” 36 But Ryan nonetheless also recalls that Pearse would frequently tell his pupils that “Faith without works is dead,” 37 in an effort to instill a striving for justice and glory within them. 38 For Pearse, the greatest Irish revolutionary hero of all was Theobald Wolfe Tone (1763–1798). For some commentators, this was again (as RELIGION AND THE RISING: PATRICK PEARSE AND EASTER 1916 221 with Cuchulain) an ironic choice, as Tone was a rationalistic Protestant who, some suggest, loathed Catholicism. 39 Yet Ryan 40 recalls that Pearse carried Tone’s biography around with him as if it were a copy of the Bible. Indeed, it would be wrong to see Pearse’s appreciation of Tone, as Francis Shaw 41 argues, as being simply too colored by his nationalism. However, for Pearse, the student of Tone’s “United Irishmen” ideals, he held a much greater, continuing signifi cance, as indicated by his speech at the annual Tone graveside commemoration, in June 1913. Again, Pearse’s address employs a host of religious imagery:

This man’s soul was a burning fl ame … to come into communion with it is to come into a new baptism, unto a new regeneration and cleansing … With what joyousness and strength should we set our faces towards the path that lies before us, bringing with us fresh life from this place of death, a new resurrection of patriotic grace in our souls . 42

The theme of a new “resurrection” in Ireland would be increasingly enun- ciated by Pearse in the outworking of his nationalistic faith until fi nally, at Easter in 1916, he would seek to fulfi ll his ideals in such terms. His article of Christmas 1915, “Ghosts,” scorns the previous generation for seeing nationalism as a material and not a spiritual thing, 43 and he seeks to demonstrate the continuity of the separatist tradition throughout the centuries. Tone’s “faith” is a dogma that cannot be altered “one jot or tittle.” Tone, Thomas Davis (1814–1845), Fintan Lalor (1807–1849), and John Mitchel (1815–1875) are portrayed as the four evangelists 44 of Irish nationalism. 45 It is in this work that Pearse gives us his clearest anal- ogy between nationalism and religion:

Like a divine religion, national freedom bears the marks of unity, of sanctity, of apostolic succession. Of unity for it contemplates the nation as one; of sanctity, for it is holy in itself and in those who serve it; of catholicity for it embraces all the men and women of the nation; of apostolic succession for it, or the aspiration after it, passes down from generation to generation from the nation’s fathers. 46

However, one could also suggest that this work also provides us with a clear illustration of how far Pearse had deviated from the conventional Catholicism of the day as his national fervor supplanted his nativistic faith in importance. Let us now turn our considerations to the Rising, itself. 222 G. MANNION

Insurrection at Easter 47 More than anything else, the event which stirred those who were lean- ing toward a more vociferous nationalism than that offered by the Irish Parliamentary Party, and even by Eoin MacNeill (leader of the Irish Volunteers), was the funeral, in August 1915, of Jeremiah O’Donovan Rossa—a veteran of the Fenian cause and hence also of numerous English prisons. The funeral was spectacularly stage-managed and Pearse delivered the panegyric. 48 That day would unite the factious entities of the Irish Citizen Army (ICA), IRB, and the Irish Volunteers—Pearse’s oration being instrumental in achieving this—once again appealing to Christianity to win hearts and minds:

I hold it a Christian thing, as O’Donovan Rossa held it, to hate evil and to hate untruth, to hate oppression, and, hating them, to overthrow them. Our foes cannot undo the miracles of God who ripens in the hearts of young men the seeds sown by the young men of a former generation. And the seeds sown by the young men of ‘65 and ‘67 49 are coming to their miraculous rip- ening today…. Life springs from death , and from the graves of patriot men and women spring living nations … they have left us our Fenian dead, and, while Ireland holds these graves, Ireland unfree shall never be at peace. 50

The sense of destiny outlined in this oration was phenomenal, as would be its lasting effect upon the Irish campaign for self-determination. The idea of resurrection once again permeates Pearse’s argument and the themes outlined earlier were to dominate all of his subsequent writings, albeit— and signifi cantly so—accompanied by an increasing expression of concern in social matters. For example, in “The Sovereign People” (of March 1916), Pearse proclaims:

The people who wept in Gethsemane, who trod the sorrowful way, who died naked on the cross, who went down into Hell, will rise again glorious and immortal, will sit at the right hand of God, and will come in the end to give judgment. 51

This work, completed just before the Rising, clearly depicts how far Pearse believed in the idea of resurrection brought about through insurrection, and he ended the piece by declaring, “The day of the Lord is here.” 52 Once again, Pearse’s ethico-theological wrestling emerged in the form of rectitude. Hence, in his poem “The Fool,” he turns upon his critics, stating that “Not men shall judge me but God,” while his last play, “The Singer,” 53 RELIGION AND THE RISING: PATRICK PEARSE AND EASTER 1916 223 provides one of the most vivid illustrations of what Augustine Martin 54 calls his “messianic nationalism.” There we hear Pearse’s own ideals through the mouth of its hero, MacDara. The play would prove to be eerily prophetic—telling of 16 men who die to free Ireland. But, earlier, MacDara pleads that one death, alone, would be enough, stating, “One man can free a people as one man redeemed the world…. I will stand up before the Gall as Christ hung naked on a tree.” 55 Pearse was to argue vehemently that only he should be executed after the surrender—to no avail. We again see the sacrifi cial theme in his poem “The Mother,” which Pearse wrote when he became expectant of the fate which he and his brother would soon endure (i.e., execution). The poem conveys the sad yet defi ant lament of his own mother:

I do not grudge them: Lord, I do not grudge My two strong sons that I have seen go out To break their strength and die, they and a few, In bloody protest for a glorious thing, They shall be spoken of among their people The generations shall remember them, And call them blessed. 56

The allusion to the Magnifi cat is obviously deliberate—indeed it is evident that Pearse identifi ed his own mother with Mary with the same logic and in much the same fashion that he perceived himself in a role akin to that of Christ. 57 The closer the Rising drew near, the more Pearse became anxious to be sure that God was, indeed, on the side of the insurgents-to-be. Likewise, there was an intensifi cation of his own need to feel at ease with both his faith and conscience in relation to his devotion to his country. Yet, genuinely attempting to avoid self-deception, he would sift through various arguments before, on occasion, coming to a conclusion somewhat steeped in just that. Desmond Fitzgerald recalls that, inside the GPO during the Rising itself, the favorite topic of conversation was the moral rectitude of the insurgents’ actions. In talking with Pearse and Plunkett he recollects that they “each brought forward every theological argument and quota- tion that justifi ed the Rising.” 58 Indeed, the rebels packed the churches for mass and confession on the eve of the Rising and Pearse sent out for a priest to hear confessions in the midst of the fi ghting. 224 G. MANNION

While many clergy and church leaders were either privately or openly critical of the Rising, others were fully behind it 59 and the degree to which religion and rebellion had become entwined for the rebels was undeniable. As McGarry rightly suggests, “The remarkable piety of the Volunteers refl ected the nature of Irish society at the time, but probably also the zeal- ous and moralistic outlook of the rebels, many of whom clearly viewed their cause as a sacred one.” 60 Furthermore, “The piety of the rebels also refl ected the consolations of religion (and the importance of receiving absolution in the face of death.” 61 George Noble Plunkett, a papal count and father of one of the Rising’s key leaders, Joseph Plunkett, had even sought a blessing for the rebels from Pope Benedict XV, presenting him with a petitionary letter which stated that the Rising offered “good prospects of success, of obtaining for our Catholic country the freedom of laws and of our religion.” The Pope was informed of the actual date that the Rising was planned to begin. 62 And Plunkett also assured the pontiff that the rebels “wished to act as Catholics.” 63 Plunkett relayed all this to the Archbishop of Dublin just before the Rising was about to commence, and leaders of the Rising made sure to let their soldiers know that the Pope himself had blessed their endeavors. 64 However, for all his doctrine of sacrifi ce, Pearse was greatly troubled by the deaths which occurred during the Rising 65 and, toward its end when he witnessed civilians being shot by British troops while carrying a white fl ag, he was fi nally swung over to the side of the leaders who believed that surrender was the best course of action. Having considered some aspects of the Rising, itself, now let us turn to consider some of the differing assessments of the Rising, from a variety of perspectives.

PART TWO: EVALUATING PEARSE AND THE RISING Here, I consider certain representative and/or particularly signifi cant historical and cultural assessments, as well as going on to examine theological and ethical perspectives. Some appraisals of Pearse and the Rising purport to give a purely historical perspective, seeking objectivity. Most, as with all forms of historiographical assessment, bear the hallmarks of various preconceptions, political, religious, social, and cultural alike. Many also bear the marks of being parts of wider and sometimes less explicitly obvious agendas. Some concentrate on certain themes (nationalism, the wider political or intellectual agenda), some on personalities, some approach the Rising and so Pearse utilizing the analytical tools not simply of various RELIGION AND THE RISING: PATRICK PEARSE AND EASTER 1916 225 schools of history, but of other disciplines as well, most notably anthropology, sociology, psychology, and literature. Some approach their subject with a distinctively revisionist agenda and these, in turn, have been countered by others. Many interpretations have drawn upon elements of several such approaches.

The “Righteousness” of the Rising and Its Legacy Pearse’s fi nal days in detention were spent writing and refl ecting on what had taken place. In a statement released from the GPO on 28 April, he said that he feared neither the judgment of God nor that of posterity, and the same sentiments were to emerge in the letters and poems he wrote both in Arbour Hill detention barracks and in Kilmainham Jail. These indicate that he expected only the death sentence—although he had, of course, long expected to die for the cause of Ireland. 66 To the very end, Pearse was adamant he and the other insurgents had done the right thing. 67 To prevent misunderstanding and misinterpretation, it is important to appreciate that Pearse did not think he was Christ, but that he simply perceived a parallel justice between his own “mission” and that of Christ himself. Gilley has pointed out that Pearse’s mission did , after all, succeed by its seeming to have “failed,” just as Christ’s own had. 68 Alternatively, the aforementioned article by Francis Shaw has argued that Christ’s mission was to save people from sin and, in a situation “similar” to Ireland’s in 1916, had rejected nationalism. Indeed, far from being a soldier, Christ died at the hands of soldiers. 69 But despite Shaw’s polemic (and Pearse and many of the Rising’s leaders were hardly soldiers in the conventional sense), Pearse should be judged to have been more than a hopeless romantic or a sentimentalist obsessed with achieving apotheosis—he was far more calculating and intelligent. His philosophy of nationalism, blended with and legitimated by his devotional religion, was something he did not simply utilize for the sake of propaganda, but was something he passionately believed in, even if his last writings from captivity were composed in the knowledge they would be published. In his own eyes , Pearse never strayed from the fundamental tenets of Christianity. The circulation of his last writings would be necessary to fulfi ll what he genuinely believed would come to pass, namely, a much greater “rising” of the Irish people to demand self-determination. Pearse, the fi rst to be executed, was shot in the early hours of May 3rd. Shortly beforehand, he was visited in his cell by Fr Aloysius OFM Cap., 226 G. MANNION who was full of admiration for the devotion the condemned man showed on receiving confession and communion. Pearse assured him he was not worried and his fi nal words and demeanor give the impression that the meaning of his life’s “mission” had fi nally all fallen into place and now, receiving his God, he believed he was receiving vindication for all that he had done. His fi nal letter to his mother (May 3rd) confi rms this (and echoes the reassurances of the rectitude of the Rising given to his mother in his letter from two days previous):

I have just received Holy Communion…. This is the death I should have asked for if God had given me the choice of all deaths–to die a soldier’s death for Ireland and for freedom. We have done right. People will say hard things of us now, but later on they will praise us. Do not grieve for all this, but think of it as a sacrifi ce which God asked of me and of you . 70

To understand the religious motivation behind the Rising it is vital to appreciate how much its participants actually believed such sentiments— their actions cannot be assessed in isolation from what inspired them. Gilley has argued that, while Pearse’s sacrifi ce was magnifi cent, it was hardly Christian. 71 But such a judgment overlooks a most fundamental point—that Pearse’s sacrifi ce was only magnifi cent and, in fact, only took place, because Pearse was a committed Christian. To succeed by failure was Pearse’s way of imitating his Christ. His Christology, like so many before and after him, was selectively tailored to suit and legitimate his wider concerns and aims. He honestly believed that, given the relatively hopeless situation of Ireland at that time, only such a course of action could truly free his country. However theologically and/or ethically questionable it may or may not be, it is beyond doubt that Pearse’s actions were interpreted as a righteous one of liberative sacrifi ce in the immediate aftermath of his death. But for his death, Pearse would most likely have been ridiculed in the Irish popular culture and media of the time—yet the executions of the leaders helped permeate the emergent new Irish consciousness deeper and wider into the Irish people (a consciousness more Gaelic and socially aware). For several months following his execution, posters appeared in Dublin with the caption Yeats was to immortalize—“All Is changed”— with Pearse depicted in the manner in which the crucifi ed Christ is seen in the Pieta , and supported by the fi gure of Mother Ireland, who is holding an Irish tricolor. Even Lloyd George received word that favors had RELIGION AND THE RISING: PATRICK PEARSE AND EASTER 1916 227 been granted through the intercession of the executed leaders in heaven. 72 McGarry concurs, “Accounts of the piety of the rebels, particularly of the executed leaders, formed an important aspect of the transformation of public opinion after the Rising.” 73 Although he also points to another consequence of this, “As a result, the non-sectarian (if deeply religious) ethos of the Proclamation was overshadowed by the popular perception of the Rising as an event steeped in Catholicism-which, in many respects, it was.” 74 McGarry even speaks of “The Catholic spirit which infused the Rising” and states that “Pearse, it is clear, was far from alone in viewing the Rising in explicitly religious terms.” 75 And “Much as it would later discomfort secular republicans, it was hardly surprising that many Irish people would come to see 1916 and Catholicism intertwined.” 76 Pearse’s single-minded determination to fulfi ll his mission in order to bring about Ireland’s freedom succeeded. He did not expect it to happen overnight, nor in quite the manner in which it did, but ultimately he helped achieve his primary goal of wrestling the Irish people free from their position of subservience, periodically tempted by a carrot of unrealis- tic Home Rule, to one where they became capable of voicing an eventually insatiable demand for independence.

The Revisionist Debates and Beyond Here we do not have the space to rehearse all the now-protracted (and often contentious, as well as frequently boring) controversies surrounding revisionism in Irish history, in general. 77 Nonetheless, some revisionists seem determined to belittle and play down the person and role of Pearse in Irish history, and one must attempt to discern why this might be so. One particularly pertinent question concerns why those such as Ruth Dudley Edwards 78 and, more recently, Moran, seek to interpret Pearse and even the Rising primarily in terms of Pearse’s personal life and characteristics (so, too, with other leaders of 1916), as opposed to considering the broader perspective. For example, both of these historians admit that Pearse was not given to violence prior to his conversion to the physical force, “rebellion at all costs” strand of Irish nationalism. Yet both seem to interpret such a conversion in terms of Pearse’s psychological and emotional needs for fame and/or immortality and not—as would occur to other more balanced interpreters—in terms of Pearse being swept up in the tide of feeling and events of the day, as well as the hugely important motivating factors supplied by his religious nationalism, so infused with 228 G. MANNION the doctrine of self-sacrifi ce to gain liberation for others. The latter, it could be argued, was simply followed through (reluctantly as any normal human being must take such a path reluctantly), again, to its logical conclusion. They also seem to overlook just how relatively young Pearse was when he died. 79 It is tempting, here, to echo F. X. Martin’s words from 1967 that “it is not my purpose to probe the theological worthiness of these concepts, but merely to examine them for the supremely persuasive ideals that they were.” 80 However, I suspect that would not assist us in seeking to explore what can we make of Pearse, his comrades in arms and the Rising itself today. For a long period of time, it became all too fashionable to buy into the “revisionist” dismissal of the legacy of Irish nationalism, and particularly of the Rising. Such revisionism, however, is often typifi ed by the same patronizing, bourgeois, and “armchair” scholarship from Europe and North America that so irritated the Latin American theologians of liberation who developed their own social-critical theological method in response. Approaching Irish history from a broader “post-colonialist” perspective is a further approach that has made signifi cant inroads into recent debates. So, too, it must be acknowledged, is much revisionism born of thinly veiled prejudice and scorn, as well as of hidden agendas. 81 Furthermore, in recent years, the roar of the Celtic Tiger and subsequent admission of Ireland into the global capitalist “club,” with the atten- dant consumerization of so many of its people, have meant that some in Ireland today feel embarrassed or uncomfortable with aspects of its past. The confi dence and comfort that Ireland’s new-found wealth led to some generations wishing to banish Ireland’s oppressed and rebellious past to the library shelves, lest it should interfere with the new “religion” of economic expediency. 82 It is signifi cant that, in the aftermath of the spectacular collapse of the Irish economy from 2008 onward, consciousness of the need to remember and celebrate Irish history—especially the revolution and in particular the Rising—began to increase again. With the centenary of the Rising in 2016, a much more openly proud celebration of the origins of the modern Irish state was witnessed across most of Irish society. Finally, the discomfort many feel with the republican-rebellious history of Ireland is often born of horror and a sense of helplessness in relation to “the Troubles,” that is to say the tragic confl ict in relation to the Northern counties (particularly between the late 1960s and mid-1990s), 83 to which such a euphemism cannot hope to do justice. RELIGION AND THE RISING: PATRICK PEARSE AND EASTER 1916 229

And yet a theological-ethical analysis proves more challenging to the revisionists than the republicans, not least of all because of the many parallels which can be drawn with movements for social justice and self- determination—we now say “empowerment,” of course, elsewhere. The rebels of 1916 were part of a movement concerned with human liberation . That is an undeniable fact, no matter how unpalatable contemporaries may fi nd either the nationalistic or violent aspects of such a movement (or of those who claim heir to its legacy). We have considered enough evidence to demonstrate that religion undoubtedly had a profound effect upon many of the leaders of the Rising and was a prime motivating factor in its inception and execution, as such. Yes, that infl uence was most ambivalent and sometimes religious values, doctrine, and rhetoric were distorted for socio-political purposes, but religion stands behind the Rising as a major factor of enduring signifi cance. This, again, is something neither unique in Irish history nor history in general. What is more surprising is how little detailed study is usually given to this factor of the Rising, except in a often dismissive anti-religious tone or in an overly pro-religious fashion, alike. And, indeed, religion played a signifi cant role in the continued legacy of the Rising. 84 Turning to two of the more sympathetic assessments, here, Gilley notes that, although the ideals of Pearse and his fellow rebels may have been against the tenets of Irish Catholicism, it was nothing less than Pearse’s focus upon the person of Christ which “carried revolution into the heart of Irish Catholicism.” 85 Indeed, Gilley believes modern Ireland is “a state which was the creation of a Catholic revolution.” 86 And “Pearse’s life and thought lie at the heart of that transition, the transformation of ideals not specifi c to Catholicism into language seemingly Catholic.” 87 Desmond Fennell, one of the more apologetic interpreters of Pearse, draws out the metaphysical aspects of the religious-nationalistic fusion which Pearse adhered to. Fennell likewise reminds us that the Proclamation of the Republic, which Pearse read outside the GPO at the beginning of the Rising, begins by addressing the Irish people “in the name of God.” 88 Fennell also suggests that the Rising could even be interpreted as the restoration of meaning and the “re-consecration” of Irish life itself, rescuing the nation from the wasteland much of Ireland had become. For Fennell, this transformation is brought about through “the presence of God, ushered in by the Easter Rising.” 89 Concluding his own substantial study, McGarry states, 230 G. MANNION

Whatever criticisms might be made of them, what shines through many of the voices of those who lived through this era is the integrity and idealism of a generation of Irish men and women who struggled to realize a vision of an Ireland different to one in which they had been born. 90

O’Leary has even suggested that the symbols of Irish nationalism might actually offer “moral inspiration.” 91 Furthermore, F. X. Martin has stated, “The Easter Rising established itself, permanently, as the dominant tradition in the country, the Irish way of looking at the most vital interests of its own citizens.” 92 The revisionist debates have multiple ethical dimensions, as did the Rising itself. Most historians are not trained in either philosophical or theological-ethical analysis. But an assessment of the Rising and the motivations behind it that is informed by ethical analysis—both philosophical and theological—tends to support the conclusion that, by and large, the Rising was more morally justifi able than many at the time and especially since have suggested. 93

‘Now and in the Time to Be ’: Pearse, Religion, and Violent Rebellion Let us explore a few alternative assessments of whether such insurgency against the powers of the state in the name of social justice is justifi able. First, there can be little doubt that, were today’s political rhetoric to be applied to 1916, the rebels would have been labeled “terrorists,” perhaps even “non-military, unlawful enemy combatants.” Indeed, the horrifi c way in which the British authorities treated many prisoners of war captured during the Rising and those who surrendered afterward would seem eerily familiar to anyone concerned with the treatment of the inhabitants of Guantanamo Bay and prisoners of war during the Iraq confl ict. But here I wish to consider, albeit briefl y, some further possible ways of assessing Pearse and the Rising that might assist in forming some conclusions of a specifi cally ethical or ethico-theological character.

Rebellion, Myth, and Sacrifi ce—Perspectives from Philosophy and Anthropology Boyce suggests that Pearse and those behind the Rising fully intended to leave in their wake a unifying additional chapter of the republican RELIGION AND THE RISING: PATRICK PEARSE AND EASTER 1916 231

“tradition,” “This was to get to the heart of the idea and purpose of the Rising: that it would not stop at 1916, but that it would be an event that would work its magic on future generations, now and in the time to come.” 94 Boyce’s fi nal words are almost an exact reprisal of the famous line from Yeats’ poem “Easter 1916”:

Now and in time to be, Wherever green is worn, Are changed, changed utterly: A terrible beauty is born. 95

With the Gaelic and Celtic revival movement that grew throughout the nineteenth century and was fl ourishing especially at the beginning of the twentieth century, the borderlines between history, culture, myth, nationalism, and, indeed, religion, became increasingly blurred. In the lead-up to the Rising and its aftermath, this was done intentionally with serving specifi c political and social ends very much in mind. Here, the 1916 Proclamation of the Irish Republic is, itself, of course, one of the best examples of all. The philosopher and novelist Albert Camus once famously stated, “Every act of rebellion expresses a nostalgia for innocence and an appeal to the essence of being.” 96 In his collection of essays, The Rebel , Camus explores the power of myth in relation to rebellion and suggests that there are metaphysical (or at least quasi-metaphysical) elements to the rebellious imagination. 97 This collection warns of the descent into nihilism which rebellion must strive to avoid by clinging to a moral framework and provides much food for thought when assessing the legacy of Pearse and the Rising (including in relation to the swift “forgetting” of its radical and socialist ideals in the 1920s and 1930s and beyond). Richard Kearney has utilized anthropological studies (especially the work of Mircea Eliade) and the work of Paul Ricoeur in his own assessment of the Rising. He believes that the leaders of the Rising were perhaps instances of the principle laid down by Eliade 98 that myths can become “exemplary and consequently repeatable…. By imitating the exemplary acts of mythic deities and heroes man detaches himself from the profane time and magically re-enters the Great Time, the Sacred Time.” 99 For Kearney, then, 1916 should be understood on such terms, “Sacrifi ce obeys the law of myth not politics….” 100 Although Kearney offers a critical assessment of the Rising (colored by then contemporary events 101 in the North of Ireland), his analysis would 232 G. MANNION seem to complement aspects of Fennell’s interpretation. Following Eliade again, Kearney states that myth can become the “nexus of exchange” between divine power and human terror—the notion of the sacrifi cial cult is therefore periodically returned to by the participant in such rituals in order to “periodically open his and his community’s veins to the fl ow of divine power in order to renew himself and his community. Man must, in short, become a terrorist for the kingdom of heaven’s sake.” 102 Faced with a cruel destiny and their impotence in the face of this, human beings have resorted to “violent rites of terror” in order to counter the resentment which their predicament causes. Such a cruel destiny, according to Kearney, was the “cosmic will of demons for primitive man, and the political evil of the Roman Empire for the early Christians.” For “many Irish Republicans,” it is British Imperialism. 103 Kearney cites G. K. Chesterton, “Pearse and his colleagues died to be in the Greek and literal sense martyrs; they wished not to win so much as to witness. They thought that nothing but their own dead bodies could prove that Ireland was not dead.” 104 As McGarry concurs, this was also refl ected in the Proclamation of the Republic itself: “Of the leaders Pearse (who had drafted much of the Proclamation) seems to have been most aware that the Rising’s importance would lie in its symbolic rather than military impact….” 105 Indeed,

The rebellion, the Proclamation made clear, was a stunningly ambitious act of imagination calculated to inspire the nation’s ‘children to sacrifi ce themselves’ for the ‘august destiny’ of a Republic willed into existence. 106

Kearney goes on to employ the theological works of both Rudolph Bultmann and Jürgen Moltmann to challenge the notion that the Rising might be dismissed as simply Christian devotionalism incorporating pagan rejuvenationism. Instead, he contends that the theory of atonement which saw Christ’s death as a propitiatory sacrifi ce, which the church came to believe was one in which Christians could partake through ritual repetition, is one borrowed from the Greek idea of cult sacrifi ce fastened onto an eschatological (and yet anti-cultic) notion of Christ as the Messiah. 107 Kearney’s appropriation of anthropological theories is most suggestive in a number of other ways. 108 For, as F. X. Martin has argued, in the aftermath of the Rising, poets such as Yeats, James Stephens, and Russell, as well as “most sensitive Irishmen,” came to realize that “what they had witnessed in the Dublin streets had been as much a ritual as a battle.” 109 RELIGION AND THE RISING: PATRICK PEARSE AND EASTER 1916 233

And here we see further similarities with Camus’ language. Furthermore, Martin makes the astute observation that each of the major symbols associated with the doctrine of blood sacrifi ce which Pearse espoused—the rose, spring, dawn—all shared in common one thing: they were metaphors for resurrection . And neither was this something new in Irish nationalism. 110 To Stephen’s observation that, while on Easter Sunday the people had said that Christ was Risen, on Easter Monday they were proclaiming that “Ireland has Risen,” Martin adds the observation that “what he mistook for a coincidence was in fact a fulfi lment.” 111

Pearse, the Rising, and Political Theology And so our fi nal train of thought. Let us consider our subject in the light of the classic late twentieth-century understandings of the term “political theology.” Johann Baptist Metz’s defi nition of political theology is a theology of “interruption,” a theology that takes the problem of evil and suffering with the utmost seriousness, which refuses to ignore, but instead focuses upon the memory of suffering, 112 a theology where political engagement is a duty. To this, numerous others have added their voices to the imperative for Christians actively to resist evil and oppression. Structural , not just spiritual, change is imperative for collective salvation. Despite his primary thesis 113 being that Pearse represented someone concerned with the modernization of Ireland, Joseph Lee’s analysis might add credence to an understanding of Pearse as a political theologian (even a proto-liberation theologian). As Lee points out, Pearse campaigned for an end to the educational, economic, and political structures in Ireland which so oppressed the majority of its population, regardless of how much genuine emancipation would ensure after his death. 114 Perhaps most telling here is Lee’s verdict on the 1916 Proclamation of the Republic, “However romantic its overtones, the proclamation of the republic … was dedicated to the modernisation of Irish society. It promised equality of political, social, economic and religious opportunity.” 115 In stating this, Lee was aiming at countering some of the more dismissive revisionists who saw the nationalists in Ireland as backward- looking. 116 Indeed, echoing aspects of Lee’s “modernizing” interpretation of the Rising, Costello reminds us that Pearse’s ideas were to be most infl uential in the formation of the Democratic Programme of the First Daíl in January 1919. 117 234 G. MANNION

And what informed Pearse’s thinking in relation to the state which he envisioned Ireland becoming? Well, once again we must turn to his religion, as a major infl uence. Indeed, Boyce would go further still,

The leader of the rising certainly had in mind some important changes in the way in which Irish society would work after their revolution; it would be a land where greed and selfi shness would play no part in social relationships, indeed it would be revolution that would release the Irish (Catholic) people from the slavery of the intensely competitive, intensely individualistic modern world. This would be a social revolution, in a sense, but one that would not touch the basis of property and ownership, but would make property and ownership open their eyes to their responsibilities to the nation: in short, Catholic social teaching written into a proclamation of rebellion , not overtly , but nonetheless implicitly and deeply . 118

Although, Boyce is somewhat guilty here of homogenizing Catholic social teaching and presuming certain tenets of it had been developed prior to the Rising, which actually emerged at a later date, his general contention is valid. 119 Furthermore, Boyce has also noted how some revisionists have played down various aspects of the progressive vision 120 to which Pearse and the Rebels held. 121 Indeed, they have also failed to realize that the Rising must be interpreted in terms of the perspective of Irish political thought, “for it is here that it exercised, and perhaps continues to exercise, its greatest infl uence.” 122 As Declan Kiberd argues, the rebels sought to build a modern welfare state, albeit one perceived through symbols of another age. 123 However, today, we might better replace the word “modernization” here with another term—socialization (in the Catholic social teaching sense of the word) or perhaps, conscientization. Better, still, with both . So, in drawing to a conclusion, I suggest that Philip Berryman’s work on the “religious roots of rebellion” might enable us to formulate another way to steer between the various confl icting assessments of Pearse and 1916. Philip Berryman’s study has shown how Christians in Latin America agonised with similar questions to the 1916 rebels in resisting evil and dehumanising oppression. He fi nds that church teaching in general, but particularly amongst the Latin American church leaders (at least, from the 1960–1980s), supported the right to insurrection of the Latin American people. In particular, Berryman notes how Archbishop Oscar Romero, of San Salvador, pointed to the extenuating circumstances of inhuman state violence and oppression and therefore concluded that the use of violence in reaction to this was ethically and religiously justifi able. 124 RELIGION AND THE RISING: PATRICK PEARSE AND EASTER 1916 235

And here note that Bishop O’Dwyer of Limerick—no friend to republicans—said similar things about the 1916 rebels and refused to condemn them. Berryman believes violence was simply the means to the morally and religiously legitimate end of bringing about revolution and seizing power from oppressive regimes. We should appreciate that few “choose” violence—rather, in certain circumstances, it embroils them. 125

Conclusion: Pearse as “Radical Political Theology”? In conclusion, then, it appears that circumstances, moral indignation, and rectitude, along with religious and cultural inspiration, each played a part in inspiring Pearse and the 1916 revolutionaries. Indeed, we can unite all such factors under the umbrella term of an abiding eschatological hope . 126 Social and cultural anthropologists have demonstrated that religion has perennially served as a form of social protest and a means of social transformation in itself. Other commentators have demonstrated that, in the modern era, forms of revolution, socialism, and communism have sought to take on board the eschatological and utopian aspects of the previously religious forms of protest and transformation, stripped of their actual religious and overtly metaphysical trappings. But at Easter, in 1916, we see the secular socialist revolutionary ideal married to the religious eschatological tradition, aided by the cultural bridge of Gaelic nationalism. What emerged was a most powerful force, though how much of each “tradition” remained beyond the later civil war in Ireland is open to debate. Nonetheless, the evidence we have considered could support a suggestion that Pearse, along with other signifi cant fi gures in the Rising, might best be placed within the tradition of radical Christian political theology—a tradition that stretches back to the earliest times of the church and which manifests itself in a multitude of forms in each generation of the church. Andrew Bradstock and Christopher Rowland have described this tradition in the following terms:

The Gospel of Jesus Christ, announcing the arrival of the kingdom or reign of God, offered a radical and subversive challenge to the world, its powers and authorities…. Throughout Christian history—and particularly at times of crisis and social upheaval—there have emerged writings which, refl ecting the values of the Kingdom, have engaged in searching critiques of the political order and promoted equality of wealth, power, gender or status. 127 236 G. MANNION

Admittedly, many of the Christian radicals (both those who shunned or advocated violence alike) have been deemed heretics and persecuted as such. Others have been variously embraced, denigrated, and rehabilitated in differing eras. Often the critique of such radicals by institutional church authorities would be primarily infl uenced by the various alliances between such ecclesial authorities and the secular powers and authorities. Bradstock and Rowland, like Pearse, remind us, “The foundation nar- ratives of Christianity tell of a man who fell foul of a colonial power and its surrogates….” 128 Indeed Christianity, no less than Irish history, has had more than its fair share of revisionists who would seek to airbrush such facts and the radical traditions to which they have given inspiration and sustenance, out of church and doctrinal history alike. Bradstock and Rowland identify the radical strand in Christian theology as being characterized by: First, a critique of false religion; Second, a hope for a new order; Third, an understanding of the present as the decisive moment in the divine purposes; Fourth, a commitment to the prophetic politics of equality; and fi nally, the use of scripture. The radicals throughout Christianity have seen that knowledge and understanding come about through action and have discerned the “signs of the times” in order to glimpse and partake in the coming of the kingdom. 129 It can be argued that Pearse’s vision, given defi nitive testimony in the 1916 Proclamation of the Irish Republic, meets each and every one of these criteria. Thus Pearse, as well as being closer to pacifi sm than may have seemed at fi rst apparent, also belongs in the very same genre into which many Christian pacifi sts are themselves placed—the genre of Christian Radicalism. Whether one shuns violence absolutely, in a qualifi ed manner, or not at all, 130 history ought not to allow Pearse’s vision and the achievements of the 1916 rebels to be dismissed, downplayed, secu- larized, or “excommunicated” from the canon of Christian (or Irish) radicalism. 131

NOTES 1. Patrick Pearse, in Irish Pádraig (also Pádraic) Mac Piarais. He is perhaps most commonly referred to, however, as Pádraig Pearse, an amalgam of Irish and English. 2. At the outset, perhaps it will help if I indicate that, with regard to questions of confl ict and violence, my own ethical position is a tendency toward a form of “active pacifi sm.” RELIGION AND THE RISING: PATRICK PEARSE AND EASTER 1916 237

3. Pearse was self-deprecating enough to remark of the planned insurrection, in the Spring of 1916, “If we do nothing else, we shall rid Ireland of three bad poets” (the other two being Plunkett and MacDonagh), Desmond Ryan, The 1916 Poets (Dublin: Allen Figgis, 1963), 1. 4. The later president of the Irish Republic (himself a participant in the Rising), Eamon de Valera, certainly interpreted the legacy of the Rising in such terms on the occasion of its fi ftieth anniversary.See D. George Boyce, “1916, Interpreting the Rising,” in D. George Boyce and Alan O’Day, The Making of Modern Irish History : Revisionism and the Revisionist Controversy (London: Routledge, 1996), 178 (citing de Valera’s ‘Forward’ to The Irish Uprising , 1916–21 (New York: CBS Legacy Collection, 1966), v). 5. As Ruth Dudley Edwards puts it, “God was on the side of the Gael, and if the priests didn’t realise it, it was time that they did,” Patrick Pearse—The Triumph of Failure (Dublin Irish Academic Press, 1977), 64. 6. Even Fr Francis Shaw–an arch critic of Pearse and his legacy—concedes that he was “a man of obviously gentle and sensitive disposition.” See his ‘The Canon of Irish History’, Studies Vol. 61, No. 242 (Summer, 1972), 113–153, at 121. 7. “For all Pearse’s intoxication with the idea of purifying bloodshed and his delight at the success of his demonstration, he did not enjoy the actuality. He suffered for the death and injury he had brought on the men, and the citizens of his own city caught in the crossfi re. ….” Dudley Edwards, Patrick Pearse , 300. 8. Dudley Edwards, Patrick Pearse , 296. 9. Pearse once remarked that “A painter might fi nd here [in the Gaeltacht] many types for a St John, a St Peter, or a Mater Dolorosa. I often fancy that, if some of the old masters had known rural Ireland, we should not have so many gross and merely earthly conceptions of the Madonna as we have now,” Dudley Edwards, Patrick Pearse , 57. 10. The text of the proclamation is widely available online, for example, at the site of the Irish Taoiseach, http://www.taoiseach.gov.ie/eng/Historical_ Information/1916_Commemorations/Proclamation_of_Independence. html . One accessible book on the Proclamation for those unfamiliar with it is John O’Connor, The Proclamation of 1916 (Dublin: Anvil, 1986, 1999). 11. Like several other key fi gures in the Rising and the subsequent Irish revolution, Pearse had been educated by the Christian Brothers. See F. X. Martin, “1916 Revolution or Evolution?” in F. X. Martin, Martin, (ed.), Leaders and Men of the Easter Rising (London: Methuen, 1967), 250. 12. P. Mac MacAonghusa and L. O’Reagain, (eds.), The Best of Pearse (Cork: Mercier Press, 1987), 9. 13. “The fi rst, and all-pervasive, infl uence was his religion. Probably that can be best characterized as Franciscan. There are secular resemblances to St Francis. The gaiety, the practical good sense, the love of nature, and the 238 G. MANNION

sense of social compassion to be found in his writings,” MacAonghusa and O’Reagain, (eds.), The Best of Pearse , 9. 14. Contra Moran’s theory (somewhat contradicted by many passages in his own study), that Pearse’s religious devotion was later overplayed by republicans and historians alike; see Seán Farrell Moran, Patrick Pearse and the Politics of Redemption : The Mind of the Easter Rising , 1916 (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 1997), 155ff. 15. Cf., Joseph Lee, “In Search of Patrick Pearse,” in Máirín Ni Dhonnchadha and Theo Durgan (eds.), Revising the Rising (Derry: Field Day, 1991), 122– 38 and Boyce, “1916, Interpreting the Rising.” 16. Piaras MacLochlainn, (ed.), Last Words (Dublin: The Stationary Offi ce, 1990), 28, (my italics). 17. William Butler Yeats, “Easter 1916,” in The New Oxford Book of Irish Verse , ed. with an Introduction by Thomas Kinsella (Oxford: OUP, 1986), 311–312. 18. Though, conversely, Shaw, “Canon of Irish History” (published in 1972 at the height of “The Troubles” in the North of Ireland, though written and “held back” by the journal’s editors, in 1966), argues that such a legacy was alien to Ireland and has had tragic consequences ever since. 19. Again, in spite of her frequently dismissive tone, Ruth Dudley Edwards actually manages to capture his self-legitimation well, “It was always to be a feature of Pearse’s crusades that God was on his side–not only ratifying the Gaelic cause but participating in its furtherance. Religion to him was an intensely personal matter. He enjoyed all the rituals of the Catholic Church, but from the beginning his greatest devotional zeal was for the Holy Week ceremonies and the crucifi ed Christ ,” Patrick Pearse , 18–19, (my italics). 20. R. Dudley Edwards goes further, believing that Pearse gradually elevated nationalism “to the status of a religion,” Patrick Pearse , 116. 21. Augustine Martin, “To Make a Right Rose Tree,” in Studies , vol. 55, (1966), 40. 22. Pearse perceived there to be a void in the present generation, which he believed lacked the heroism and willingness to make the sacrifi ces that had seemed so plentiful in past ages when Ireland’s heroes had all been loyal to the “tradition” which Pearse, at times, placed upon on a par with church doctrine. When St. Enda’s school opened in 1908, Pearse published a prospectus which spoke, in English, not only of teaching Christian virtues, but also of patriotism and civic duty. However, in Irish the prospectus spoke of inculcating in the pupils a zeal to devote their lives to their country—to the point of death if necessary, cf. R. Dudley Edwards Patrick Pearse , 116. 23. Ibid, 117. RELIGION AND THE RISING: PATRICK PEARSE AND EASTER 1916 239

24. Quoted in Sheridan Gilley, “Pearse’s Sacrifi ce,” in Jim Obelkevich, Lyndal Roper and Raphael Samuel (eds), Disciplines of Faith : Studies in Religion : Politics and Patriarchy (London: Routledge, Kegan and Paul, 1987), 484. 25. Francis Costello, The Irish Revolution and its Aftermath , 1916–23 : Years of Revolt (Dublin: Irish Academic Press, 2003), 13. 26. Ibid. 27. “The Canon of Irish History,” 1972. 28. Dudley Edwards Patrick Pearse , 120. Again offering a challenge to Moran’s assessment of the strength of Pearse’s Catholicism. 29. Brian O’Cuiv, “The Gaelic Cultural Movement and the New Nationalism,” in Kevin B. Nowlan, The Making of 1916 (Dublin: The Stationary Offi ce, 1969), 18. 30. Pearse, “Ghosts,” in P. H. Pearse, Collected Works : Political Writings and Speeches (Dublin: Phoenix Press, 1952), 226. 31. See P. H. Pearse, Collected Work : Plays , Stories and Poems (Dublin, Phoenix Press, 1917), later republished as Pádraic Pearse, Poems , Stories , Plays (Dublin: Talbot Press, 1966), 45–67. 32. Cf., also, his famous poem, “The Rebel” (see ibid., 337–339). However, the especially polemical aforementioned article by Shaw (“The Canon of Irish History”) dismisses any notion that patriotism can be reconciled with Christian teaching. Yet this is a conclusion which Pearse, himself, would never have arrived at, owing to the fact that he held all theologians who espoused the Irish to acquiesce to the British in utter contempt. Thus Pearse also frequently retreated to the depths of his own conscience in order to determine the theological implications of his views and there, not surprisingly, he usually found vindication. 33. P. H. Pearse, Robert Emmet : An Address , 1913 (Dublin: Kilmainham Gaol Historical Society, 1975), 1. 34. Richard Kearney, “Myth and Terror,” in Mark Patrick Hederman and Richard Kearney (eds.), The Crane Bag Book of Irish Studies , (Dublin: Blackwater/Folens, 1982). 35. Sheridan Gilley, “Pearse’s Sacrifi ce,” 484. 36. Desmond Ryan, The Man Called Pearse (Dublin: Maunsel, 1919), 8. 37. Ibid, 46. 38. And this, we might say, provides a key to understanding Pearse’s religious nationalism. Because he obviously sincerely and passionately believed in his ideals, he felt compelled to see them through to their logical conclusion, namely, the Easter Rising. Pearse would often chastise other nationalists for being “all talk” and he gradually came to consider the reticently nationalistic Gaelic League as a “spent force.” Pearse would simply not tolerate “sacrilege” to the ideals of the past—ideals which his idols had died for. 240 G. MANNION

39. To which it may be countered that Tone was an advocate of non - sectarianism and primarily a secularist. 40. Ryan, The Man Called Pearse . 41. Shaw, “The Canon of Irish History.” 42. Quoted in Dudley Edwards Patrick Pearse , 174 (my italics). 43. “They have not recognised in their people the image and likeness of God. Hence the nation to them is not all holy, a thing inviolate and inviolable, a thing that a man dare not sell or dishonour on pain of eternal perdition,” “Ghosts,” Pearse, Political Writings and Speeches , 225. 44. Whose ideals Francis Shaw preferred to label a “gospel of hate,” “The Canon of Irish History,” 126. 45. Whatever, the debates surrounding the incompatibility of their various ideals, see, e.g., D. George Boyce and Alan O’Day, “Introduction” to The Making of Modern Irish History : Revisionism and the Revisionist Controversy , 8. Cf., also, a similar point made on 168. 46. Pearse, Political Writings and Speeches , 226. 47. Pearse was a member of the IRB military committee set up in May 1915, which became the military council in September. By the end of that year, Easter 1916 had been decided upon (an insurrection had been opted for as early as August 1914). No hopelessly romantic fools, the council members knew Ireland was not ripe for insurrection, but they believed it could be made so. 48. Ben Novick has argued, “Advanced nationalist propaganda, whether it was newspaper columns, ballad sheets, election material, or speeches and performances, drove the engine of Irish revolution.” He feels that anti-British sentiment was particularly heightened during the First World War thanks to “Moralistic propaganda that appealed directly to the nationalism of both men and women. The importance of ‘moral tone’ to Irish revolutionary discourse did not come about as a result of the war, but … The highlighting of moral dichotomies between Ireland and England was central to the construction of a new revolutionary Irish identity,” Ben Novick, “Advanced Nationalist Propaganda and Moralistic Revolution, 1914–18,” in Joost Augusteijn, The Irish Revolution , 1913–1923 (London: Palgrave, 2002), 34. See also his Conceiving Revolution : Irish Nationalist Propaganda during the First World War (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2001). 49. Earlier, failed, Irish insurrections. 50. Pearse, Political Writings and Speeches , 136–137, my emphasis. 51. Pearse, Political Writings and Speeches , 345. Again, it was the people of Ireland more than himself which Pearse’s writings appeared to “deify.” Consider, also, Pearse’s poem, The Rebel , perhaps the most complete example of his fused religious nationalism. 52. Ibid., 372. RELIGION AND THE RISING: PATRICK PEARSE AND EASTER 1916 241

53. See Pearse, Poems , Stories , Plays , 1–44. 54. Martin, “To Make a Right Rose Tree,” 1966. 55. Pearse, Poems , Stories , Plays 1917, 1966, 44. 56. P. H. Pearse, Collected Work : Plays , Stories and Poems (Dublin, Phoenix Press, 1917), 333. 57. But perhaps a more interesting parallel here is with the manner in which later theologies of liberation appropriated the Magnifi cat, perceiving it to offer something of an early form of the Christian belief in God’s partiality for the poor and oppressed. 58. Quoted in R. Dudley Edwards, Patrick Pearse , 284. 59. See, for example, the substantial essay by Dermot Keogh, “The Catholic Church, the Holy See and the 1916 Rising,” in Gabriel Doherty and Dermot Keogh (eds.), 1916—The Long Revolution (Cork: Mercier Press, 2007), 250–309. 60. McGarry, The Rising , 159. 61. Ibid. 62. The letter to the Pope from Plunkett is reproduced in Keogh, “The Catholic Church, the Holy See and the 1916 Rising,” 307–309 at 309. 63. The words are those of Fr Michael Curran, secretary to the Archbishop of Dublin at the time of the Rising, which recounts the visit of Plunkett to the Archbishop’s house on the eve of the Rising where he recounted his visit to the pope. Michael Curran, “Bureau of Military History Testimony of Michael Curran,” in Doherty and Keogh (eds.), 1916—The Long Revolution , 310–328. See, also, McGarry, who attributes these direct words to Plunkett, but offers no citation, The Rising , 160. 64. See McGarry, The Rising , 159–160. To what extent the Pope had actually blessed the insurrection it remains unclear. Certainly he did ask for reports about the Rising to be sent to him and they were. Keogh believes that Plunkett embellished his account of the audience and concludes, “The pope did not bless the Rising,” “The Catholic Church, the Holy See … ,” 272. 65. Cf. R. Dudley Edwards, Patrick Pearse , 300. 66. Cf. Pearse’s remarks to the rebels prior to surrender, which also give much insight to the anticipated effects of the Rising itself. 67. His letter of May 1st tells his mother that in time people will realize the service he and his fellow rebels have given Ireland and, although they will be criticized at that present time, future generations will bless them and his mother because of who he was and what the rebels had done (echoing his poem “The Mother”): “Our deeds of last week are the most splendid in Ireland’s history. People will say hard things of us now, but we shall be remembered by posterity and blessed by unborn generations. You too will be blessed because you were my mother,” in Mac Lochlainn (ed.), Last 242 G. MANNION

Words , 18–19 at 19. Indeed, such sentiments are repeated in another of his poems, “A Mother Speaks”—a fi nal instance of his identifi cation of himself with Christ and of his mother with Mary. 68. “Pearse’s Sacrifi ce,” 1987. 69. “Canon of Irish History,” 1972. 70. Mac Lochlainn, Last Words , 33 (my italics). 71. “Pearse’s Sacrifi ce.” 72. Cf. Sheridan Gilley, “The Catholic Church and Revolution,” in D.G. Boyce, (ed.), The Revolution in Ireland : 1879–1923 (London:1988), 170, cf. David W. Miller, Church , State and Nation in Ireland 1898–1921 (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1973), 341. 73. McGarry, The Rising , 159. 74. Ibid. McGarry goes on to note the contentious nature of the Catholicism of the rebels. The Catholic and Gaelic ethos stood somewhat in contrast to the more non-sectarian united-Ireland republicanism and nineteenth-century Feninanism, which had often sought to keep religion and politics apart, ibid., 160. 75. McGarry, The Rising , 160. 76. Ibid., 161. 77. Cf., Ciaron Brady, Interpreting Irish History : The Debate on Historical Revisionism (Dublin: 1994), as well as the aforementioned study by Boyce and O’Day, The Making of Modern Irish History : Revisionism and the Revisionist Controversy , which is a good survey of such debates and an enormous wealth of literature has sprung up around such debates in recent years. Most illuminating is their remark that “contemporary historical heterodoxy is comparable to religious heresy and inspires much the same suspicion and hatred from those who feel threatened by it” (“Introduction,” 2). On the Rising in particular, Irish Academic Press, again, cf. Boyce’s own survey in that volume, “1916, Interpreting the Rising,” 163–87 as well as Máirín Ni Dhonnchadha and Theo Durgan (eds.), Revising the Rising (Derry: Field, Day, 1991) and James Heartfi eld and Kevin Rooney, Who ’ s Afraid of the Easter Rising ? (Alresford: Zero, 2015). 78. D. George Boyce states, “Dudley Edwards perhaps over-compensated for the hitherto high standards imposed on Pearse,” “1916, Interpreting the Rising,” 167. 79. Dudley Edwards’ work on Pearse is often of value descriptively when dealing with actual facts, though it is usually questionable when dealing with assessment, analysis, and evaluation—that is, in its interpretive elements. 80. F. X. Martin, “1916 Revolution or Evolution?”, 39–40. 81. C.f. David Alvey, “The Story of an Educational Document,” Church and State Magazine , no. 74 (Autumn 2003), where he attacks the “shoddiness and shallowness of revisionism,” particularly given the lack of evidence for many revisionist interpretations of Irish nationalism. RELIGION AND THE RISING: PATRICK PEARSE AND EASTER 1916 243

82. While some of the younger generations care little for the idea of having to “fi ght” for social justice, beyond donating to charities which now do this for them in a surrogate form. 83. A point echoed by McGarry, The Rising , 290–292. 84. See, e.g., Boyce, “Interpreting the Rising,” 179. 85. “Pearse’s Sacrifi ce,” 480. 86. “Pearse’s Sacrifi ce,” 480. All of which somewhat contradicts his aforementioned criticism that Pearse’s sacrifi ce was “hardly Christian.” 87. “Pearse’s Sacrifi ce,” 481. Cf., also, Desmond Fennell, Irish Catholics and Freedom since 1916 ((Dublin: Dominican Publications, 1984), 39 and, also, David W. Miller, Church , State and Nation in Ireland 1898–1921 (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1973), “Theological terminology was made to serve purposes never contemplated by the theologians,” 320. Augustine Martin has also contended that we must remember that Pearse’s writings and orations were not mere rhetoric, but the thoughts of a fervent believer in such nationalistic doctrine. He accepted both Wolfe Tone’s non-sectarianism and Jim Larkin’s socialism and yet he still perceived the struggle as being one of a “catholic nation for sovereignty,” Augustine Martin, “To Make a Right Rose Tree,” in Studies , vol. 55, (1966), 40. See, also, J. J. Lee, Modernisation of Ireland , Dublin, Gill and Macmillan, 146—hence we see that Pearse was neither racist nor sectarian, quite the contrary. 88. Desmond Fennell, Irish Catholics and Freedom since 1916 (Dublin: Dominican Publications, 1984), 70. 89. Ibid., 65. He likewise suggested, “The clergy had locked God up in Latin defi nitions, in gilded tabernacles, and in clerical black, and they believed he should stay there,” 71. 90. McGarry, The Rising , 293. His researches have also resulted in a popular collection, Fearghal McGarry, Rebels : Voices from the Easter Rising (London: Penguin, 2011). 91. O’Leary, “The Riddle of a Sacrifi ce,” 419. He further suggests, “The glorifi cation of violence in [the symbols of Irish nationalism] is never a glorifi cation of imperialist aggression but of just resistance to oppression and there is in that something capable of refi nement and Christianisation.” However, O’Leary believes that this is something Kearney and the modern IRA both missed. On the other hand, the peace campaigners in Northern Ireland also stand in this tradition of sacrifi ce, as do the likes of Martin Luther King, Gandhi, Dietrich Bonhoeffer et al. Bear in mind both Kearney and O’Leary were writing in the aftermath of the hunger strikes and in a particularly diffi cult time for the North of Ireland. 92. Martin, “1916 Revolution or Evolution?”, 252. Boyce suggests, however, that Martin, himself, was a pioneer in offering an analysis of the Rising which could be deemed “revisionist” in many aspects, “1916, Interpreting the Rising,” 164–6. 244 G. MANNION

93. Another study here, which does make an attempt to apply some ethical analysis to the Rising, including that of Just War theory, comes from the Jesuit, Séamus Murphy (“Easter Ethics” in Doherty and Keogh [eds.], 1916—The Long Revolution , 329–351), although this essay does appear to owe more to revisionist historical perspectives than it does to actual ethical theory and analysis. 94. Boyce, “1916, Interpreting the Rising,” 168. 95. W. B. Yeats, ‘Easter 1916’ in Kinsella (ed.), The New Oxford Book of Irish Verse , 310–312 at 312. 96. Albert Camus, The Rebel (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 2000), 173. 97. Moran, Patrick Pearse and the Politics of Redemption , also considers some aspects of the signifi cance of myth in relation to the Rising, but from a very different perspective, e.g., 180ff. 98. In his Myths , Dreams and Mysteries. 99. Kearney, “Myth and Terror,” 276. 100. Ibid, 276. 101. Boyce has mentioned how many historians simply resort to using the Rising to merely furnish the production of various “tracts for the times” of differing agendas. “1916, Interpreting the Rising.” 102. Kearney, “Myth and Terror,” 279. 103. Ibid., 280. Hence Kearney believes those who commented upon the Rising in the immediate years and decades of its aftermath understood this much better than later writers—something which, we might add, can now be turned upon numerous revisionists, as well. 104. Chesterton is quoted in E. Holt’s Protest in Arms— see Kearney, “Myth and Terror,” 280. 105. McGarry, The Rising, 134. 106. Ibid., 134–135. 107. In Moltmann’s words, “The Christ-event is here understood as the epiph- any of an eternal (past) in the form of a dying and rising kyrios of the cultus ... the cross becomes a timeless sacrament of martyrdom which perfects the martyr and unites him with the heavenly Christ,” quoted in Kearney, “Myth and Terror,” 286 (the citation come from Jürgen Moltmann, Theology of Hope (London SCM, 1967), chapter 3. 108. Yet Joseph O’Leary has challenged critical aspects of Kearney’s assessment on several fronts. He prefers to highlight that sacrifi ce also has a positive function, namely, as the only means by which human aggression might be “integrated into a creative relation to God, or whatever stands in the place of God, and to other men,” “The Riddle of a Sacrifi ce,” in Hederman and Kearney (eds.), The Crane Bag Book of Irish Studies , (1982), 417. For O’Leary, Pearse’s sacrifi ce is better understood in the sense of a Wagnerian opera, something which might stir the unconscious of an entire race (ibid., 419). RELIGION AND THE RISING: PATRICK PEARSE AND EASTER 1916 245

109. F. X. Martin, (ed.), The Easter Rising and U.C.D (Dublin: Browne and Nolan, 1966), 38. 110. Ibid., 39. 111. Ibid., 38. 112. Cf. “History is not to be whitewashed ‘by a screening out of the importance of suffering,’” Future in the Memory of Suffering , 1972. 113. In his 1972 work, at least, though later modifi ed. 114. Lee, Modernisation of Ireland , 141–3. 115. Lee, Modernisation of Ireland , 155. Cf. also Boyce, who speaks of the “heroic language of the Proclamation (a document more mentioned in passing than read or understood by many historians today),” which, like other factors, spoke of a “revolution of the mind,” “1916, Interpreting the Rising,” 171. 116. Lee, Modernisation of Ireland , 147–148. 117. Francis Costello, Irish Revolution and its Aftermath. One of Pearse’s most recent biographers, Joost Augusteijn, has offered the following summary assessment: “The picture that emerges here clearly places Pearse in a European context. Most of his ideas were directly inspired or even borrowed from outside. His thinking was in no way conservative or retrograde. Apart from his extremist militarism and nationalism, which were widely shared, his ideas on educational and literary thinking were clearly modernist. They also concur with his radical ideas on workers’ and women’s rights. All this can only lead to one conclusion: that Pearse was an exponent of his time, and represented ideas widely held in Europe and beyond,” “Patrick Pearse: proto-fascist eccentric or mainstream European thinker?”, History Ireland Magazine vol. 18, Issue 6 (Nov/Dec. 2010), http://www.historyireland. com/20th-century-contemporary-history/patrick-pearseproto-fascist- eccentric-or-mainstream-european-thinker/ . Here he offers something of a summary of his biography of Pearse, Joost Augusteijn, Patrick Pearse. The Making of a Revolutionary (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010). 118. “1916, Interpreting the Rising,” (my italics), 176. 119. Nonetheless, Boyle is correct to the extent that “offi cial” Catholic social teaching had become increasingly infl uential in the wake of Leo XIII’s 1891 encyclical Rerum Novarum , which Pearse would have been more than familiar with. Ironically, Connolly severely criticized the encyclical’s analysis; hence, the Proclamation has more of a socialist and radical “edge” to it than both Rerum Novarum and Boyce’s homogenous account of the impact of social teaching upon the proclamation here. 120. Declan Kiberd has also suggested a “via media” between sentimental ahis- torical nationalism and revisionism by arguing that the role of the arts in the new emergent consciousness prior to 1916 has also been downplayed far too much, particularly by the revisionists. Instead he argues that those involved in the Gaelic revival, the Easter Rising, and the Irish revolution 246 G. MANNION

turned to the past and the archaic in order to enable Ireland to forge their own form of modern radicalism . Declan Kiberd, Inventing Ireland (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1995). 121. Boyce, “1916, Interpreting the Rising,” 176. Cf., also, 178. 122. Ibid., 178. To which he later adds the history if the ideas of Ireland, also. 123. Kiberd, Inventing Ireland . 124. Philip Berryman, The Religious Roots of Rebellion (London: SCM), 316. Although Ireland at the beginning of the twentieth century might be seen as being less “inhuman” than these Latin American societies, the social injus- tices, denial of self-determination, and the continuing legacy and collective memory of the Famine should guard against any attempt to trivialize the plight of Irish citizens at that time. 125. Berryman, Religious Roots of Rebellion , 309. 126. Indeed the Rising was the product more of eschatological or utopian hope than it was of a Millenarian or apocalyptic mentality. 127. Bradstock and Rowland, Radical Christian Writings (Oxford: Blackwell, 2002), xvi. 128. Ibid, xviii. 129. And so akin to other instances of the “kairos” moment where individuals and communities decide to stand against evil. 130. Ironically one could say this is the position of most revisionists with regard to modern Irish history. They engage in a selective condemnation of violence rather than a pacifi st critique of violence and revolutionary engagement that necessitates such per se. 131. This essay incorporates much of the material - in a signifi cantly revised and expanded fashion - of my ‘“Faith without works is dead”: Revisiting the Religious Justifi cation for the 1916 Easter Rising’ in Confl ict and Conciliation: Faith and Politics in an Age of Global Dissonance, ed. Jason Daverth (Dublin: Columba Press, 2007). INDEX

A Cavanaugh, William, 180, 191–6, abortion, 146, 149, 150, 154, 155, 198n44 156n6 Christianity, 6–10, 18, 20, 22, Aksakov, Konstantin, 180, 186–8, 27n10, 29n34, 30n47, 31n51, 194, 197n20, 198n42, 198n54 39, 47, 56, 68n1, 70n19, 71n45, Ambrose of Milan, 132, 141n46 76, 79, 89, 94, 98n45, 104, Anglican Communion, 15, 199 108, 111, 114, 116, 125, 126, Augustine, 132–3, 141n49, 142n53, 128, 132, 134–6, 141n38, 218, 223, 240n21, 245n87 199, 217, 219, 220, 222, Australia, 33–52 225, 238 Church of England, 34, 199–202, 204–11, 212n13, 213n14, B 214n27 Boff, Leonardo, 18, 19, 28n25, 30n42 Church-state relations, 55–73, 200 Boko Haram , 77, 88, 90, 93, 98n47, Constantine, 7–9, 17, 27n13, 56, 59, 102, 107, 108, 110, 119n24 62, 68n1, 70n18, 123–43 Bosnia-Herzegovina, 174n20 constitution, 13, 33–6, 38, 40–8, British Empire, 79, 218 50n31, 51n46, 52n54, 84, 86, 88, 98n41, 109, 112, 125, 136, 155n5, 201, 204 C contraception, 68n3, 145, 146, Catholic Church, 8, 9, 11–14, 20, 148–52, 154, 155, 156n6 49n3, 52n56, 56, 70n27, 132, Copts, 43, 44, 46, 50n37, 51n41 146, 148, 150–3, 155, 156n7, Côte d’Ivoire, 75–7, 80–8, 91, 94n2, 165, 172, 205, 215, 240n19, 95n7, 96n20, 98n43, 105 243n59, 244n72 Croatia, 159–77

D H Derrida, Jacques, 3, 4, 27n1 Hadith, 104, 113 Dignitatis Humanae , health care mandate, 150, 151 “Declaration on Religious Humanae Vitae , 148 Freedom”, 146 Donatists, 8, 130–2, 141n38 I Indonesia, 33–52 E Irish revolution, 22, 239n11, 240n25, Easter Rising 1916, 215–18, 242n48, 247n117, 247n120 240n14 Islam, 38–40, 42–5, 47, 76, 86, 89, ecclesiology, 18, 26, 55, 57, 93, 94, 101–20, 137, 141n41, 63–7, 124, 169, 176n37, 166, 173n2, 174n15 177n48, 180 Islamic extremism, 101–20 Economic Justice for All , 154 ecumenism, 3–32, 177n38 Edict of Milan, 8, 55, 56, 127, 128 J Egypt, 33–52, 104, 135 Jews , 10, 39, 125, 131–4, 136, 137, Egyptian Revolution, 45 139, 140n8, 141n41, 142n53, Eusebius of Caesarea, 124, 126, 138 161, 166, 175n29 Jihadism, 93, 104, 106, 107 Justinian, 133–4, 142n54 F familia Dei , 55–73 Florovsky, Georges, 63, 71n45, 182, K 195, 196n6, 198n58 Kenya, 92, 102, 113, 117n7 Fortnight for Freedom, 146, 149 Khomiakov, Alexei, 180, 182, 183, Fox, Jonathan, 33, 38, 43, 48, 49n1 187–90, 192, 197n9, 198n30 Francis, Pope, 102, 116, 117n2 King, Jr., Martin Luther, 138, 245n91 kinship, 61–5, 67, 70n35, 71n38, 72n53 G Kireevsky, Ivan, 180, 182–7, 190, Gaudium et spes , “Pastoral 197n10, 198n41 Constitution on the Church in the Modern World,” 64, 147, 152 Gemeinschaft , 181 L Germany, 48, 95n6, 120n44, 159–77 Lactantius, 124, 127–30, 134, 136, Gesellschaft , 181, 185, 192 140n23 Ghana, 80 liberation theology, 28n25 Great Britain, 78, 137, 213n15 Licinius, 9, 127–9 Greek Orthodox Church, 11 Lori, Archbishop William, 149 INDEX 249

Lumen gentium, “Dogmatic Patient Protection and Affordable Constitution on the Church” , Care Act (PPACA) (Obamacare) , 147 145 Paul VI, Pope, 64, 72n50, 148 Pearse, Patrick, 215–46 M Pentecostal movement, 21, 25, 26, Marx, Karl, 3–5, 27n1 30n45, 31n58 Morsi, Mohamed, 45, 46 Philippines, 15, 55–73 Mubarak, Hosni, 44–6 political theology, 26, 31n60, 60, Muhammad, 41, 45, 103, 105, 70n27, 179–98, 216, 233–5 111–13, 115, 119n19 postcolonialism, 57, 69n10 Murray, John Courtney, 146, 147, Prime Minister, 36, 38, 201, 206, 155n4 209, 212n9 Puritans, 102, 135, 136

N nationalism, 25, 39, 80, 87, 164, 170, Q 173n4, 174n18, 175n27, Qur’an, 104, 105, 108–17, 119n26, 198n53, 218–25, 227, 228, 230, 120n43 231, 233, 237, 240n20, 241n29, 242n48, 244n81, 245n91, 247n117 R new ecumenism, 3–32 Rahner, Karl, 14, 29n32 Nicaea, Council of, 8, 9, 17, 18, religious freedom, 36, 49n9, 123–43, 20, 23, 28n14, 31n54, 126, 145–56, 170 130, 131 Roman Empire, 6–8, 10, 12, 19, Niebuhr, Reinhold, 36, 124, 137–9, 31n54, 59, 126–8, 131–3, 232 143n71 Russian Orthodox Church, 180 Nigeria, 75–80, 83–92, 94n1, 96n14, 97n28, 102–12, 118n9, 119n19, 120n35 S Santorum, Rick, 149 Sebelius, Kathleen, 156n10 O secularism, 42, 49n1, 56, 108, 112, Obama, Barack, 146, 149, 153 114, 120n41, 137, 147, 167, 171 secularization, 42, 48, 102, 167 Serbia, 159–77 P Serbian Orthodox Church, 162, 164, Pancasila , 33, 34, 40–3, 48 167, 172, 177n49 Parliament, 37, 47, 200–8, 210, 211, shari’a , 86, 90, 109 212n10, 213n14 Sisi, Abdul Fatah al-, 46 250 INDEX

Slavophiles, 179–98 W Sobornost’, 179–98 West Africa, 75–99, 101–20 Sullivan, Francis, 149, 156n7 women’s health, 152, 153, 156n10

U Y Unitatis Redintegratio (“Decree on Yugoslavia, 160, 161, 163–7, 170, Ecumenism”), 13 171, 173n4, 174n12, 175n25, United States Conference of Catholic 177n77 Bishops (USCCB), 146 United States of America, 16, 29n35, 64, 72n48, 135, 142n61, 146, 196n6