Christians and the followers of other religions in Britain sometimes come up hard against an aggressive secularism. This seeks to exclude religion from public discourse and even prevent its inclusion in our historical narratives, except as something foreign and regrettable. Such adversaries are generally forgetful of – or deliberately in denial of – the influence of religion in the formation of every great civilisation.
In his address to politicians in Westminster Hall in 2010, Benedict XVI described our political system in glowing terms, as one would expect on such an occasion:
This country’s parliamentary tradition owes much to the national instinct for moderation, to the desire to achieve a genuine balance between the legitimate claims of government and the rights of those subject to it. While decisive steps have been taken at several points in history to place limits on the exercise of power, the nation’s political institutions have been able to evolve with a remarkable degree of stability. In the process Britain has emerged as a pluralist democracy which places great value on freedom of speech, freedom of political affiliation and respect for the rule of law, with a strong sense of the individual’s rights and duties, and of the equality of all citizens before the law.
At a time when we witness daily on our screens the appalling effects of civil war in the Middle East, the growing threats to the peace of Europe by the Russian president, the absurd but worrying actions of the surviving communist leader of North Korea and – to change our focus and level of concern – when we see the undignified and personally recriminatory election debates in America, we can take comfort and even pride in the way our country is dealing so far with the problems of exit from the European Union. But we ought to be careful that we do not take an exaggerated pride in the maturity of our systems.
There are divisions in our countries that were not there a few decades ago. There have been parliamentary laws which have given credence and effect to ideological positions contrary to our Christian traditions. There has been a diminishing of respect for the essential nature of marriage as held not only in our own faith but also in that of other religions in our country. There have been threats to our freedom of conscience, and all the while a continuing complete disregard for the rights of the unborn child. There is fear now in our camps that the predicted ability to determine more accurately whether a child has that extra chromosome which will label it as a Down’s syndrome member of the community will result in not one of them surviving to birth. In practice, even the right to life is measured by public opinion and the law itself is weak in the face of powerful lobbies.
Such considerations raise questions about the origins of law, the nature of conscience and the source of authority in determining what is right.
As he stood in Westminster’s great hall, Benedict XVI was conscious that it was often the place of determinations. It was there that one of Britain’s greatest scholars and statesmen, St Thomas More, was judged to have committed treason and was condemned to death for following his conscience in the matter of Henry VIII’s divorce and remarriage, and declining to take the oath of allegiance.
Conscience comes into play both in the formation of law and in obedience to it. Jesus famously answered a question about paying the tax required by Caesar: “Render to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God, what is God’s.” Conscience is not the creature of law; it is not the fruit of social engineering, nor wholly the result of education (though it is helpfully developed and embedded by sound teaching on what is called the natural law). Conscience is a native gift. Every child in its natural development reaches the day when it says spontaneously “That’s not fair!”; when he or she senses that they have done something wrong; when they are persuaded by their own reasoning that they have to make amends for some acknowledged fault or afflicted hurt.
The Roman philosopher Cicero declared: “For there is a true law: right reason. It is in conformity with nature, is diffused among all men and is immutable and eternal; its orders summon to duty; its prohibitions turn away from offence … to replace it with a contrary law is a sacrilege; failure to apply even one of its provisions is forbidden; no one can abrogate it entirely.”
It was on the basis of natural law, “an appeal to the conscience of the world” and “in order that justice may be done”, that following the Second World War the leaders of Nazi Germany were called to account by an international group of judges at Nuremberg and judged guilty of crimes against humanity. The very existence of the International Court of Justice in The Hague is further testimony that across society there is a fundamental sense of man’s inalienable duties and rights. And I prefer to state them in that order – duties, then rights – since they arise naturally and basically within the most fundamental of relationships, namely that of parents and children. The family is the original school of social duties.
The American serviceman who said to me in Caithness on the day following the passing of the abortion law that “it is all right now to have an abortion” was confusing positive law, state law, with natural law. Still, it is important to remind people that according to the law itself as framed by the British Parliament, it is only under certain conditions that abortion is not considered a criminal offence, though in practice it is now provided virtually on demand in both England and Scotland. However, attempts by a powerful lobby to have it declared a woman’s right have been repeatedly forestalled in the European Parliament. Natural law still exists.
The present concerns about the treatment of prisoners by British soldiers in Iraq, while raised by reference to a declaration of human rights, arise fundamentally from the natural law, as does the horrific bombing of hospitals and schools – indeed, in the targeting of non-combatants in war.
And so conscience still exists at a corporate level, universally as well as personally, but admittedly not to the same degree of development in every age and person. It can be ill-informed, perverted by ideologies (some of the worst being religious in motivation) and brutalised by violence or abusive lifestyles. While our sophisticated technological age can offer us the conviction of human progress, other indicators can argue to our moral decadency.
Our leaders must continue to reflect on virtue in society, the promotion of which should be the aim of every governing authority. I sometimes think that satisfying the demands of citizens has displaced that noble cause, expressed as the motto of my native Elgin Academy, Ad astra (“Aim for the stars”).
In Westminster Hall, Benedict said: “Each generation, as it seeks to advance the common good, must ask anew: what are the requirements that governments may reasonably impose upon citizens, and how far do they extend? By appeal to what authority can moral dilemmas be resolved?”
This question of authority is a tricky one. From the perspective of faith, its ultimate source is in a paternal God. Jesus, in front of Pontius Pilate who had just reminded him that he had authority to condemn him or to release him, said: “You would have no authority over me were it not given to you from above.” That is a statement of universal application, though not a source acknowledged by those who are atheists, who have to work out for themselves where they consider that authority to abide. They would presumably refer to an agreement among people, an agreed opinion, argued from reason, which certainly has its force.
But what or who has the ultimate say in the establishment of moral truth? Is it opinion held by a majority or must there be an endorsement from above, however that may be conceived? Dictators see themselves as having that right, abrogating to themselves what people of faith consider as solely God’s. “These questions take us directly to the ethical foundations of civil discourse,” said Benedict. “If the moral principles underpinning the democratic process are themselves determined by nothing more solid than social consensus, then the fragility of the process becomes all too evident – herein lies the real challenge for democracy.”
He illustrated what he had just said by reference to the difficulties then being experienced in the global financial crisis: “There is a widespread agreement that the lack of a solid ethical foundation for economic activity has contributed to the grave difficulties experienced by millions of people throughout the world.”
Have we another example in the inability of the states and neighbours of the European Union these days to resolve the problem of the migration of vast numbers of the poor from Africa and the Middle East? What priority above our own interests do we accord their reception and support? There is surely a moral argument of great significance in this debate. Where is it, and from where does it descend? Is it mediated by Merkel’s Germany or May’s Britain?
I find these questions challenging, and I imagine you do too. It is good that we should debate them, reflect on them and, from the convictions we form, act on them. As citizens both of the world and of heaven we have to.
The Most Rev Mario Conti is Archbishop Emeritus of Glasgow. This is an edited version of his address to the Society of Friends of Glasgow Cathedral
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