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A WORLD SAFE FOR DIVERSITY
Reuniting America in the Midst of the Culture
Wars
By Os Guinness, Senior Fellow, Trinity Forum
Of all the countless stories of the incomparable wit and wisdom of Winston
Churchill, there is only one I know in which he was bested in the repartee.
As
the account goes, he was in a London club one day, went up to a rather
portly
aristocrat, poked him playfully in the midriff and asked, "Is it a boy or is
it
a girl?"
"My dear chap," came the reply. "If it turns out to be a boy, I'll name him
George after the King. And if it turns out to be a girl, I'll name her Mary
after the Queen. But if it's just wind, I shall call it Winston!"
I begin with that story because the proposal I put forward for reforging
America's public philosophy would unquestionably be considered windy
nonsense
to some people. I and others, on the other hand, believe it to be urgent,
timely
and practical. So I leave it to you and to history to be the judge.
At the dawn of the twenty-first century, we not only look back on the most
murderous century in all human history, but we look out at the prospect of
continued carnage and destruction. Rwanda, Bosnia, Sudan, Sri Lanka, Kosovo,
Chechnya, East Timor, Sierra Leone, the Spice Islands — each is a
stark
reminder of the much-heralded shift from "total war" to "tribal war" and the
so-called reprimitivization of human conflict around the globe.
Explanations abound for this dark harvest of prejudice, hatred and violence
— ethnocentrism, fundamentalism, chauvinism, racism, terrorism and so
on.
But beyond any doubt it represents a humanitarian nightmare, a witches' brew
of
ancient hatreds in which tragedies such as war crimes, ethnic cleansing,
mini-holocaust, failed states and genocide become recurring headlines on the
world's front pages. The Cold War era of ideological conflict has subsided,
but
far from ushering in a new era of peace, humanity is returning to an equally
dangerous era of ethnic, racial and religious animosity. "Living with our
deepest differences" is one of the most urgent challenges of the modern
world.
And what of the United States in its supreme moment of world leadership?
More
diverse than its more homogeneous allies such as Britain and France, yet
more
united than its more multiethnic allies such as Canada, America has always
been
the world's supreme model of how to live with deep differences. E
pluribus
unum was not just a motto but a stunning achievement. Addressing unity
as
well as diversity, looking forward rather than backward, emphasizing beliefs
as
opposed to belonging, aiming to be transformative rather than preservative,
America's "new man" was a remarkable blend of unity and diversity, with both
emphases together serving the cause of liberty.
Today, however, the American contrast is neither so clear nor so confident.
From
the culture-war controversies of the last thirty years to the more radical
expressions of multiculturalism, signs are that — just as elsewhere in
the world — diversity and division are more pronounced in contemporary
America than unity and harmony. Needless to say, there is no moral or
cultural
equivalence between America's controversies and the world's worst flash
points.
But more is at stake than the loss of America's shining example. At a time
when
living with our deepest differences is one of the world's pressing
challenges,
any American faltering over this issue goes to the heart of America's
deepest
principles and proudest traditions.
Some of us, however, believe there is a way forward out of the impasse
created
by recent controversies — a way that does justice simultaneously to
America's first principles; America's past achievements in blending liberty,
diversity and unity; and America's present realities of exploding pluralism
that
have stretched and broken traditional understandings of how to live with our
deepest differences.
This vision of a reforged public philosophy was set out in 1988 in the
Williamsburg Charter. The Williamsburg Charter was a bicentennial
commemoration
of the Religious Liberty clauses of the First Amendment to the Constitution
that both celebrated a robust view of religious liberty and offered a
framework
for religious liberty in public life that made it free and fair for people
of
all faiths and none. Importantly, it was not a legal document but a freely
chosen statement of civic agreement, which — if followed — would
stop the dangerous drive to make everything a matter of law and litigation.
In
the years since then, that vision has been developed and applied in a series
of
Common Ground initiatives led by Dr. Charles Haynes of the Freedom Forum.
That
vision of rebuilding the common vision for the common good together with
these
initiatives, making the vision practical in the midst of America's current
moral,
legal, political and educational flash points, addresses the crux of the
American
Assembly's present topic — Uniting America's Religious.
My task here is to set out a series of propositions that provide the
framework
for both the Williamsburg Charter and the Common Ground initiatives that
have
flowed from it. Although I was one of the primary drafters of the Charter,
these
propositions are my own and do not necessarily speak for the other drafters
and
signers, or those who participated in subsequent initiatives. But that said,
these propositions are offered as a foreign visitor's heartfelt tribute to
the
extraordinary first principles of the American experiment, and with the
fervent
wish that the United States in the twenty-first century will recover the
brilliant prudence of its founding generation and continue to be a beacon of
hope for free peoples everywhere.
1. Three tasks of establishing a free society
Any reading of the speeches and writings of the founding generation would
underscore their awareness of the three essential tasks of establishing a
free society. Stated simply, these tasks sound almost absurdly obvious. But
a
moment's thought also reveals that the second task is less understood than
the
first and the third far less than the first two — with significant
consequences for today.
Winning Freedom: The first task is to win freedom, in other words to
rise up and throw off the forces of the tyranny opposed. This task, in its
minimal sense of overthrowing an ancien regime, is clearly the work
of
revolution, which the Americans accomplished in 1776, the French in 1789,
and
the Russians in 1917. Almost too self-evident to need stressing, the task of
winning freedom — while costly — is also the easiest and
quickest of
the three tasks.
- Ordering Freedom: The second task is to order freedom, in other
words
to secure the ethical and institutional framework in which freedom may
thrive.
This task, which the framers spoke of as "tempered liberty" and "ordered
freedom,"
was supremely the work of the Constitution. And here, significantly, the
French
and Russians did not follow. In fact, because of their striking failure to
ground
their freedom philosophically as well as to order their freedom
constitutionally,
both the French and Russian revolutions spiraled down to demonic disorder,
with
reigns of terror that replaced one tyranny with another.
- Sustaining Freedom: The third task is to sustain freedom, in other
words to perpetuate the liberties that have been won and ordered. In the
passionate flush of revolution it is easy to overlook the longer-term
dimensions
of this third task. But to the credit of the American revolutionaries, they
never
lost sight of this challenge. From the pre-revolution sermons of John
Witherspoon
to the Farewell Address of George Washington, sustaining freedom was never
far
from their minds. Asked what the Constitutional Convention had achieved,
Benjamin Franklin replied typically: "A republic, Madame — if you can
keep it." Later, in the same vein, the twenty-eight-year-old Abraham Lincoln
chose as his subject for his address at the Springfield Lyceum: "the
perpetuation
of our political institutions." Far harder and longer than either winning or
ordering freedom, sustaining freedom is the work of centuries and quite
clearly
the task that confronts us today.
2. Three classical menaces to sustaining freedom
A defining feature of the framers of the Constitution, and a stunning
contrast
to most contemporary Americans, was their deep awareness of the past. They
were
both revolutionary and rooted. To create a free society that would
remain
free, they had to use history in order to defy history. At the heart of what
James Madison called this "new and more noble course" was a blunt realism
about
the reasons previous republics had risen, prospered and fallen. In
particular,
the most brilliant of the framers were well aware of the three menaces to
sustaining freedom set out by such classical writers as Polybius and
Cicero.
- External menace: The first possible "source of decay" (so called by
Polybius) was external. Suddenly and for reasons outside its control, a
republic
may be threatened by another power greater and stronger than its own. Such a
threat can be monitored, but it cannot be predicted precisely. Besides, for
obvious reasons, this menace will only rarely be America's principal
challenge.
Continent-sized, with a two-ocean buffer and astonishing human and natural
resources, America is less likely to face this threat than a small
city-state
such as Athens or a tiny island world power such as Britain.
- Corruption of customs: Polybius' second source of decay was through
the
corruption of customs. While the success or failure of a republic depends on
"the form of its constitution," the constitution of a society includes not
only
its laws but its customs, beliefs, and traditions. If these are not guarded
during a "high pitch of prosperity and undisputed power," the resulting
"deterioration" will lead not only to a corruption of the customs but to a
subversion of the constitution itself.
- Passing of time: The third classical menace to sustaining freedom
is
the passage of time, which Cicero laments as "the lapse of years," Edward
Gibbon
as "the injuries of time," and Lincoln as "the silent artillery of time." By
this process the vibrant beliefs and ideals of one generation become "the
antique
manners" of another. In Rome's case, says Cicero, "we have retained the name
of
republic when we have long since lost the reality."
To be sure, the writers of antiquity were so weighed down by this "ordained
decay and change" and its "inexorable course of nature" that they were
pessimistic
about sustaining freedom. The framers, by contrast, were optimistic. But
Madison's
"revolution which has no parallels in the annals of human society" was more
than
the product of eighteenth-century optimism. It was based in the conviction
that
the American experiment embodied a practical answer to the three menaces
outlined
in the classical warnings.
3. Three assumptions of a constitutional republic
Many contemporary Americans rest complacent about freedom beneath a double
conviction: that a strong Constitution is the sole necessary protection of
freedom, and that the separation of powers is the sole necessary antidote to
the corruption of customs. In short, many citizens have unwittingly moved
from
the moral, or constitutional, republic of the framers to the procedural
republic
of today. Certainly part of the originality of the framers lay in their
refusal
to entrust the survival of freedom to the care of virtue alone. But for
them,
giving no weight to virtue would be as rash as putting too much weight on
virtue.
The framers' position, commonly overlooked today, is much more balanced,
emphasizing both the constitutional separation of powers and the
indispensable
role of faith and virtue in sustaining freedom.
Their position may be expressed as follows: While the framers knew well that
religion could be disastrous for freedom, and that republicanism had earlier
and
elsewhere commonly been linked with irreligion, they believed that the
self-government of the republic rests on the self-government of the
citizens,
and therefore that, rightly related, faith is indispensable to freedom.
Their
position, repeated endlessly, leads to a triangle of first principles with
three
interlocking points.
- Liberty requires virtue: Benjamin Franklin's well-known statement,
"Only a virtuous people are capable of freedom," speaks for a rich theme in
the
framers' writings. It also accords with contemporary philosophers, such as
Isaiah Berlin, who argue that freedom includes more than negative freedom
("freedom from"), it also includes positive freedom ("freedom for" or
"freedom
to be"). To this the framers added an untiring warning: if there is no
virtue,
neither the law nor the Constitution can sustain freedom. As John Adams
declared,
"We have no government armed with powers capable of contending with human
passions unbridled by morality and religion. Avarice, ambition, revenge, or
gallantry would break the strongest cords of our Constitution as a whale
goes
through a net." Or as James Madison, the father of the Constitution himself,
said: "Is there no virtue among us? If there be not, we are in a wretched
situation. No theoretical checks — no form of government can render us
secure. To suppose that any form of government will secure liberty or
happiness
— without virtue in the people — is a chimerical idea."
- Virtue requires religion: Once again Franklin spoke for many of the
framers when he wrote, "If men are so wicked as we now see them with
religion, what would they be without it?" Such canny,
semi-skeptical
realism also underscores another point. Unquestionably the framers were not
all
people of orthodox faith. They represented a wide range of positions on
faith,
just as they represented a wide range of positions on the relationship of
religion and public life. But without exception they believed that religion
was
essential to virtue. In George Washington's words, "Of all the dispositions
and
habits which lead to political prosperity, Religion and morality are
indispensable
supports."
- Religion requires freedom: Those inclined to be suspicious of the
first
two points usually are so because they view them as a way to bootleg
religion
back into public life, perhaps even "imposed" in some establishment form. On
the
contrary, for here the framers were most daring and most original. As
Madison
argues passionately in his Memorial and Remonstrance, the Christian
faith
does not need establishing, and ecclesiastical establishments are always
disastrous
for religion. Sometimes they erect "a spiritual tyranny on the ruins of
Civil
authority." Sometimes they have "been seen upholding the thrones of
political
tyranny." In contrast, he argues, "Religion or the duty which we owe to our
Creator and the Manner of discharging it, can be directed only by reason and
conviction, not by force or violence." Only a freely chosen, disestablished
faith
can ground the virtue that guarantees freedom.
1. Three patterns of church-state relations
As the framers were well aware, the United States was the first great
republic
to be established since the fall of Rome. And nothing in its Constitution as
the
novus ordo seclorum ("new order of the ages") was more distinctive
and
daring than the first sixteen words of the First Amendment — the
Religious
Liberty clauses. Yet these two clauses also grow directly out of the
formative
experiences of American history. There are three main patterns of European
church-state relations. Each came out of an event decisive for its nation
and
has cast a long shadow over subsequent generations — in America's case
with strikingly beneficial results.
- 1789: The first pattern is the French one, shaped by its revolution
in
1789. The situation then could be described as a corrupt church allied with
a
corrupt state with the result that the revolution was a volcanic reaction
against
each. The revolutionaries' cry says it all: "We must strangle the last king
with
the guts of the last priest!" Religion, viewed as reactionary, went one way,
whereas freedom, viewed as progressive, went another. French republicanism
was
therefore irreligious from the beginning, and much of France shows little
change
today.
- 1688: The second pattern is the English one, shaped by the Glorious
Revolution in 1688. Here again was an established church, the Church of
England,
but even its harshest Protestant critics acknowledged that it was
semi-reformed
and allowed considerable room for dissent. There were therefore no volcanic
reactions, no militant anti-clericalism in reaction, and the Church was
allowed
to fade away until it became the Gothic West Front of English national life,
beautiful but innocuous and irrelevant.
- 1791: The third pattern is the American one, shaped ever since the
Puritan experience in seventeenth century New England but solidified by the
First Amendment in 1791. Here there was no state church, so that in effect
pluralism and dissent were established. But the result was that faith and
freedom,
or religious liberty and civil liberty, were closely tied. As Alexis de
Tocqueville
observed fifty years later, "In France I had always seen the spirit of
religion
and the spirit of freedom marching in opposite directions. But in America I
found
that they were intimately united and that they reigned in common over the
same
country." Not surprisingly, this brilliant construct was seen as a key part
of
the American way of sustaining freedom.
2. Three legacies of the American ordering of religion and public
life
The framers were hardly modest about their accomplishments in separating
church
and state. After the "torrents of blood spilt in the old world," as Madison
put
it, they had now found "the true remedy" for ordering religion and public
life.
As the Williamsburg Charter declares, "Thus, the government acts as a
safeguard,
but not the source, of freedom for faiths, whereas the churches and
synagogues
act as a source, but not the safeguard, of faiths for freedom." In short,
religious liberty is far more than liberty for the religious. It is an
essential
part of American ordered liberty, with important national legacies.
- Vitality: Foundational to America's experience is the fact that the
separation of church and state has never meant the separation of religion
from
public life but the fostering of a remarkable national vitality. Not so much
despite disestablishment as because of it, the influence of
diverse
faiths on American society has become all the stronger for being indirect
and
unofficial. "Free exercise" in religion therefore precedes and parallels
"free
enterprise" in commerce. One is the child of disestablishment, the other of
de-monopolization. Free enterprise makes it possible to compete freely in
the
market place but to do so in a "fair game" and on a "level playing field."
Free
exercise includes the right of a person or a group to compete freely in the
world
of ideas and to persuade others by the strength of arguments and the quality
of
lives.
- Harmony: The practical genius of the First Amendment lies in its
ability
to foster two things that elsewhere in the world have all too often
contradicted
each other — strong religious convictions and strong political
civility.
Parts of the world, for example Western Europe, are currently characterized
by
strong political civility over religious differences. But on closer
inspection
the civility is less impressive because the religious differences are weak
to
nonexistent in societies that are increasingly secular. In other parts of
the
world, for example the Middle East, religious convictions are so strong that
not
only civility but liberty and life itself are often overwhelmed. In contrast
with both, most of American history (with some egregious but rare
exceptions) is
characterized by a blend of strong religious convictions with strong
political
civility that has fostered a remarkable national harmony.
- Legitimacy: With seventy-five percent of Americans in 1776 coming
out
of a Reformation background, there is no question that, historically
speaking,
rights were viewed as a gift of God, not the government. As Madison wrote,
"a
right toward men is a duty toward the Creator," a duty that is "precedent
both
in order of time and degree of obligation, to the claims of Civil Society."
This
grounding gave to rights both their legitimacy and their decisive authority.
As
Jefferson asked, "Can the liberties of a nation be thought secure when we
have
removed their only firm basis, a conviction in the minds of the people that
these
liberties are the gift of God?" John Adams, for one, worried about some
future
day when freedom would be undermined if national leaders came to believe
that
humans were "but fireflies" and the cosmos was "without a father" — a
position close to much modern thought — but for most Americans in most
generations the legitimacy of rights have been justified decisively by their
freely chosen faiths.
3. Three changes altering the traditional understanding of the First
Amendment
Change is at the heart of modern life and open-endedness is the essence of
what
Washington called "the great experiment." It is therefore natural that the
history
of America is the story of the negotiating ongoing social changes within the
framework of the framers' ordering of American society. This is certainly
the
case with the last generation and the constant controversies over religion
and
public life. Three changes in particular have called into question the
traditional
ordering of religion and public life.
- Exploding pluralism: Pluralism and religious liberty have been
linked
inextricably since the colonial days. On the one hand, religious liberty has
made pluralism more likely. On the other hand, pluralism has made religious
liberty
more necessary. Thus the American story has always been one of steadily
expanding
pluralism — the Middle colonies in the eighteenth century were among
the
world's most religiously diverse regions. But for all the steady expansion
since
then, nothing rivals the explosion of pluralism in the last forty years that
now
includes members of almost all the world's religions and a marked increase
of
secularists — significant because so strong among the educated elites.
With
some school districts now serving nearly a hundred different religious
communities,
"Whose prayer?" is a vital dimension of the controversies over school
prayer.
- Expanding statism: "Church and state" have always been confusing
terms
in America because there is no single church, no single state, nor any clear
distinction between the two. But even the better terms "religion and
government"
mask the extraordinary changes in their relationship over two hundred years:
What
has happened has been described as a complete "exchange of roles." In 1791
religion
was powerful and central in most people's lives, whereas government was
relatively
distant and weak. Today the situation is reversed. Government is central and
strong,
religion relatively weak and marginal. Not surprisingly, the reverberations
have
touched religious liberty. The Williamsburg Charter states: "Less dramatic
but also
lethal to freedom and the chief menace to religious liberty today is the
expanding
power of government control over personal behavior and the institutions of
society,
when the government acts not so much in deliberate hostility to, but in
reckless
disregard of, communal belief and personal conscience."
- Emergent separationism: Beyond all question, disestabishment and
the
separation of church and state are at the heart of both the purpose and
achievement
of the First Amendment. On the one hand, they remove what in other lands has
been
a central source of hostility to religion — its established and often
oppressive status. On the other hand, they disallow any religion from
depending
on state power, and so throws each one back on its own resources —
thus
fostering a climate of entrepreneurial freedom and competitiveness. But this
traditional view of separation is a far cry from the "strict, total,
absolute
separationism" that has become prominent since 1947. Slowly, strict
separationism
has grown from a theory to a doctrine to an orthodoxy to a ruling myth. In
the
process the relationship between the two Religious Liberty clauses has
changed.
"No establishment" has become an end, not a means, and a new vision of
church-state
separation has become dominant — in which public life is inviolately
secular
and religious life is inviolately private.
1. Three different visions of the public square
The recent culture warring over religion has been analyzed in various ways
—
progressives vs. conservatives, secularists vs. fundamentalists, strict
separationists
vs. accommodationists, religious "betrayers" (privatizing faith) vs.
religious
"bitter-enders" (dogmatizing faith), and so on. But behind the sound and
fury of
all the charges and countercharges, there are three competing visions of the
public square. In light of the framers' vision for sustaining freedom, which
one
prevails will be of enormous importance.
- A sacred public square: Despite the disestablishment at the heart
of
the First Amendment, the United States long had a unofficial,
semi-established
religion in a preferential place in public life — Protestantism. As
the
nineteenth-century experience makes clear, Protestants may have been
oblivious
to this situation, but Jews and Roman Catholics were not. One response to
recent
controversies has therefore been the attempt to re-impose an earlier state
of
affairs on present-day realities and maintain a privileged position for the
Christian faith in American public life. But in light of the recent
explosion of
pluralism, this solution is neither just nor workable. There are simply too
many
"others" for any faith to be given any preferential position in public
life.
- A naked public square:The second competing vision is what has been
described as a "naked public square" or "religion-free zone" in which there
is
an antiseptic cleansing of all religion from public life. The sources of
this
vision are diverse and not all secularist. To be sure, some citizens support
this position because of their secularist philosophies. But others are
religious
believers who are strict separationists in constitutional interpretation,
and
many are simply people who recoil from seeing the endless conflicts. "A
plague
on both your houses" is the attitude, so the naked public square is the
outcome
reached by a different route. But however the naked public square is
reached,
the result is even less just and workable than the sacred public square. Not
only does this vision favor a minority worldview even less representative of
America than Protestantism, it represents a decisive repudiation of the
historic
American relationship of faiths and freedom, and therefore a lethal blow to
sustaining freedom.
- A civil public square: The vision of the "civil public square" is
that
citizens of all faiths and none are free to enter and engage public life
within
the framework of Constitutional first principles. As the Williamsburg
Charter
states, "The result is neither a naked public square where all religion is
excluded, nor a sacred public square with any religion established or
semi-established. The result, rather, is a civil public square in which
citizens
of all religious faiths, or none, engage one another in the continuing
democratic
discourse." This vision provides a constructive way forward because it goes
back
to the notion of covenantal, or federal, liberty that lies behind the
Constitution itself. The present state of religious diversity does not
permit
agreement at the level of the theological origins of belief (where
differences are often ultimate and irreducible). But an important, though
limited,
agreement is still possible at the level of the outworking of beliefs
— if
negotiated within a freely chosen compact over the "Three Rs" of religious
liberty:
rights, responsibilities, and respect.
2. Three common misunderstandings of the public philosophy
There are many obstacles in the way of reforging a civil public square
—
not least that many of the culture-warrior activists have a vested interest
in
continuing the culture wars. But beneath an understandable caution, if not
skepticism,
are three common misunderstandings of what is in mind.
- Civil religion: First used by Jean-Jacques Rousseau as part of his
theory of social contract, "civil religion" has come to be used of a
nation's
faith in itself through which it expresses its self-awareness, cements its
solidarity, celebrates its unity, and actually worships itself. It is
therefore
quite incongruous with Judaism and the Christian faith, both of which
severely
condemn idolatry, nationalistic or otherwise. In spite of this fact,
however, it
is clear that "Protestant-Catholic-Jew" has been at the heart of the rise of
an
American civil religion in the twentieth century. The reforged public
philosophy
must therefore be distinguished from civil religion. Civil religion is
essentially
religious, and therefore discriminatory to those who are not religious, as
well
as idolatrous to many who are. The reforged public philosophy is not in
itself
religious. It provides a framework for both religious and non-religious
citizens
to enter public life, but the framework itself is the expression of
constitutional
first principles, not religious beliefs.
- Lowest-common-denominator ecumenism: A second misunderstanding is
that
the public philosophy is achieved through dialogue in search of the common
core
of diverse religious beliefs. While strongly espoused in some circles, this
approach has insuperable problems. For one thing, however ecumenically
inclusive,
it still excludes the non-religious who have no interest in what unites
religious
believers. For another, it holds out the promise of a core unity that is a
mirage.
For all the talk of a "common core" to world religions, no one has ever been
able
to agree what the common core is. Equally importantly, globalization and the
dramatic awareness of cultural diversity are underscoring an important
lesson:
Differences make a difference. Respect for human life and human rights, for
instance, are quite simply not a matter of universal agreement. The
"universal
rights" of the Charter of the United Nations are anything but. Many of the
world's religions and ideologies have no basis for, or interest in, such
rights.
It is important to know what we prize as inalienable — and why.
- Indifferentism: The third common misunderstanding is that the
public
philosophy requires such a neutering of religious beliefs that the resulting
civility is another word for inoffensiveness and indifference. To be sure,
some
forms of "tolerance" have led to indifference. Infinitely preferable to
intolerance, tolerance can become so vacuous that it topples over into
intolerance — when it disallows the particularities of beliefs.
"Respect"
is a stronger notion, but it too needs rescuing from confusion. There is a
difference, for example, between the notion of "the right to believe
anything"
and the notion that "anything anyone believes is right." The former is
freedom
of conscience, the latter nonsense. Put differently, there are no
constitutional
limits to what a person may believe, but there are definite philosophical,
moral
and sociological limits.
Certain things follow from this tough view of the civil public square.
Religion
in the civil public square is not a religion of civility. Nor is civility to
be
equated with niceness. In democratic debates there are always winners and
losers.
Disagreement itself is an achievement. Civility is neither for faint hearts
nor
weak faiths. It is a framework within which important differences can be
debated
and decided robustly and persuasively, but not coercively.
Can we rebuild such a public philosophy today? Is such a common vision of
the
common good the best way to "unite America's religions" (and secular
worldviews)?
Or is the search for a just and commonly acceptable solution as futile as
squaring the circle or searching for Esperanto? Clearly the way forward
requires
not only a sound vision but courageous leadership and the patient, costly
application of the vision to the festering sore spots of our current
controversies.
Yet neither leadership nor courage of that kind are in plentiful supply in
America
today.
But if these eight considerations point in the right direction, American
leaders
cannot continue to treat religion in America as a non-issue or a nuisance
factor.
The religious issue is much more than a question of the rights of religious
believers in modern society. Culture-warring over religion means that an
essential
part of American heritage is being called into question and with it the
vitality
and viability of the American republic itself. Both religion and religious
liberty
are fundamental to the Great Experiment itself as the framers devised it,
and
therefore to the future of liberty itself. Alexis de Tocqueville, a far
greater
foreign visitor to America, said of the two great revolutions of his time:
"In
a rebellion, as in a novel, the most difficult part to invent is the
end."
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