Chris Street summary
Michael Portillo says that a politicians religious belief should not play any part in the political decision making process.
by Michael Portillo
When last week David Cameron revealed that he hopes his daughter will go to a Church of England school, his aides rushed to say that he attends Sunday worship in Kensington not as a ploy to help her chances but out of genuine religious conviction. I would be more reassured to hear that the Tory leader goes to church because that is what it takes to get a child into the best of state schools, not because he is a believer.
Reposted from:
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/columnists/michael_portillo/article1434471.ece
reposted from: http://richarddawkins.net/article,675,n,n
my highlights / emphasis / comments
After Tony Blair's 10 years in Downing Street I am worried. At first I assumed that his attendance at church was simply a way of signalling to the world that he was a man of moral fibre who would bring an ethical dimension to governing Britain. That idea worked quite well for a while. When Blair told Britain that he was a pretty straight kind of guy the country was inclined to believe him. Now we know that going to church has no connection with telling the truth.
For Blair, worship in church was always more than a political tool or a lifestyle issue. He is apparently serious about religion. Reportedly he takes on holiday 12th-century theological texts for poolside reading. A year ago he told us that he had prayed to God about his decision to join the American invasion of Iraq and that, since he is a believer, it is how God will judge his actions that most concerns him.
I worry because men of power who take instruction from unseen forces are essentially fanatics. Blair is filled with a self-confidence and self-satisfaction that are dangerous. They were evident last week as he refused to take responsibility for anything that has happened in Iraq since America and Britain occupied it. Those who look for judgment not from the electorate or parliament or a free press but from God release themselves from the constraints of democracy.
In Britain the problem may seem more theoretical than real because Christianity in this country today is by and large a gentle thing. We should remember that it was shaped that way for good political reasons.
At one time religion was the greatest threat to the integrity and safety of the realm. Under the brief reign of Bloody Mary 300 Protestants, including bishops, were burnt at the stake for refusing to accept Catholicism.
Mary's Protestant successor, her half-sister Elizabeth I, was determined that religious struggles would not wreck her kingdom. She dismissed most religious controversy as "disputes over trifles" and forbade clergymen from straying from their biblical texts into questions of rite or politics. She crafted a Protestantism that created as few problems as possible for Catholics — for example, one that tolerated candles and crucifixes.
If today the Church of England is wishy-washy and middle-of-the-road, that is no accident. It is the long-term result of Elizabeth's design. Britain has benefited enormously from a weak clergy that has mainly remained aloft from politics. Britain's established church, headed by the monarch, has made few demands of our leaders or people.
When Blair correctly cites tolerance as one of Britain's defining virtues, he should recognise that we owe it to those wise rulers who over centuries insisted on separating religion from politics.
Blair understands the British distaste for mixing belief with power. Rightly, he once said: "I don't want to end up with . . . American-style . . . politics with us all . . . beating our chests about our faith." But that was a year before he revealed that he looked to the Almighty rather than us to judge him on Iraq. Alastair Campbell, Blair's former spokesman, once told an American interviewer, "We don't do God." But Blair is tempted to.
He was deeply uncomfortable when Jeremy Paxman asked him whether he and President Bush prayed together. If the answer was "no", the prime minister was open to a charge of hypocrisy. Why wouldn't two practising Christians share a moment of communication with their maker? If the answer was "yes", the British electorate would be terrified. Not surprisingly he refused to answer.
Britons should worry that religion and politics could again be bound together. If moderation and secularism have been overturned in parts of the Muslim world, why should not the same thing happen in Christian societies? Bush aroused that fear unwittingly when he referred to the war against terror as a "crusade". The remark evoked a return to religious warfare by Christians under the banner of the cross. The idea is not so farfetched given that the president has also said that God had told him to "end the tyranny in Iraq".
Bush has suggested, too, that in American schools children should be taught both Darwinism and so-called "intelligent design" (which is creationism by another name) "so people can understand what the debate is about". There is no debate. Darwinism is backed by an enormous quantity of scientific evidence, while intelligent design is a religious belief and under the US constitution belief cannot be taught in state schools.
There is a danger, too, that climate change will become a subject for religious zeal. The Bishop of London has said that flying on holiday is a sin. The remark hopelessly muddles religion and politics. There is of course scientific evidence of global warming (but then is not a religion that teaches the creation an opponent of science rather than its ally?). What may need to be done about climate change is a political matter because it can involve bans, taxes and big spending, all of which will be hotly disputed. If the bishop wants to enter political debate he could say, with as good reason, that not to advocate nuclear power is sinful. His remark about flying is acceptable only in a society where people pay bishops no attention.
In other societies theocrats, religious leaders or fanatics citing holy texts dictate violent actions. That constitutes the greatest threat to world peace today. For the first time since the Glorious Revolution of 1688, mainland Britain is menaced by religious violence, now committed at the behest of Al-Qaeda.
I do not regard myself as a militant secularist. For example, I see no need (as the government does) to drive Catholic adoption agencies out of business because they will not place children with same-sex couples. I recognise that teaching religious belief may be a good way, perhaps the best way, to impart a sense of right and wrong to children and it is fundamental to our society's survival that most people should distinguish good from bad.
Many fine things are done by people because of their faith. As an MP I saw a number of examples. And as we mark the 200th anniversary of the abolition of the slave trade we are reminded that William Wilberforce, who brought it about, was a man driven by religious conviction who eschewed political ambition.
But if our political leaders cite faith as their political guide, then how do we distinguish ourselves from the religious extremists who wreak havoc in our world? It may seem harmless to "do God" a little in an essentially moderate country like ours. But once you claim that He is judging you or telling you what to do, there is no logical defence against another who claims that his God is instructing him to blow up discotheques or fly planes into buildings. If one God sent the Americans into Iraq, why shouldn't another insist that by every means it be defended against infidel attack?
My guess is that historians will look back on the early 21st century in puzzlement. How was it possible, they will ask, that man had such deep scientific understanding but clung so tenaciously to his gods? Why did western politicians think that doing God (even a tiny bit) was an electoral or strategic asset?
It would be good to know from Cameron that for him going to church is just a metaphor for wanting to be a good man and a good leader, and that he hears no voices, receives no divine instructions and looks only for the judgment of his fellow citizens. We could then sleep more easily at night.
Michael Portillo left the House of Commons in 2005 after a 30-year career with the Conservative Party, which took him from MP for Enfield Southgate to transport and local government minister to the Cabinet, where he served as Treasury Secretary and Secretary of State for Defence. Since leaving politics he has written weekly for The Sunday Times and made a number of documentaries for BBC2
michael.portillo@sunday-times.co.uk
Reposted from:
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/columnists/michael_portillo/article1434471.ece
reposted from: http://richarddawkins.net/article,675,n,n
my highlights / emphasis / comments
After Tony Blair's 10 years in Downing Street I am worried. At first I assumed that his attendance at church was simply a way of signalling to the world that he was a man of moral fibre who would bring an ethical dimension to governing Britain. That idea worked quite well for a while. When Blair told Britain that he was a pretty straight kind of guy the country was inclined to believe him. Now we know that going to church has no connection with telling the truth.
For Blair, worship in church was always more than a political tool or a lifestyle issue. He is apparently serious about religion. Reportedly he takes on holiday 12th-century theological texts for poolside reading. A year ago he told us that he had prayed to God about his decision to join the American invasion of Iraq and that, since he is a believer, it is how God will judge his actions that most concerns him.
I worry because men of power who take instruction from unseen forces are essentially fanatics. Blair is filled with a self-confidence and self-satisfaction that are dangerous. They were evident last week as he refused to take responsibility for anything that has happened in Iraq since America and Britain occupied it. Those who look for judgment not from the electorate or parliament or a free press but from God release themselves from the constraints of democracy.
In Britain the problem may seem more theoretical than real because Christianity in this country today is by and large a gentle thing. We should remember that it was shaped that way for good political reasons.
At one time religion was the greatest threat to the integrity and safety of the realm. Under the brief reign of Bloody Mary 300 Protestants, including bishops, were burnt at the stake for refusing to accept Catholicism.
Mary's Protestant successor, her half-sister Elizabeth I, was determined that religious struggles would not wreck her kingdom. She dismissed most religious controversy as "disputes over trifles" and forbade clergymen from straying from their biblical texts into questions of rite or politics. She crafted a Protestantism that created as few problems as possible for Catholics — for example, one that tolerated candles and crucifixes.
If today the Church of England is wishy-washy and middle-of-the-road, that is no accident. It is the long-term result of Elizabeth's design. Britain has benefited enormously from a weak clergy that has mainly remained aloft from politics. Britain's established church, headed by the monarch, has made few demands of our leaders or people.
When Blair correctly cites tolerance as one of Britain's defining virtues, he should recognise that we owe it to those wise rulers who over centuries insisted on separating religion from politics.
Blair understands the British distaste for mixing belief with power. Rightly, he once said: "I don't want to end up with . . . American-style . . . politics with us all . . . beating our chests about our faith." But that was a year before he revealed that he looked to the Almighty rather than us to judge him on Iraq. Alastair Campbell, Blair's former spokesman, once told an American interviewer, "We don't do God." But Blair is tempted to.
He was deeply uncomfortable when Jeremy Paxman asked him whether he and President Bush prayed together. If the answer was "no", the prime minister was open to a charge of hypocrisy. Why wouldn't two practising Christians share a moment of communication with their maker? If the answer was "yes", the British electorate would be terrified. Not surprisingly he refused to answer.
Britons should worry that religion and politics could again be bound together. If moderation and secularism have been overturned in parts of the Muslim world, why should not the same thing happen in Christian societies? Bush aroused that fear unwittingly when he referred to the war against terror as a "crusade". The remark evoked a return to religious warfare by Christians under the banner of the cross. The idea is not so farfetched given that the president has also said that God had told him to "end the tyranny in Iraq".
Bush has suggested, too, that in American schools children should be taught both Darwinism and so-called "intelligent design" (which is creationism by another name) "so people can understand what the debate is about". There is no debate. Darwinism is backed by an enormous quantity of scientific evidence, while intelligent design is a religious belief and under the US constitution belief cannot be taught in state schools.
There is a danger, too, that climate change will become a subject for religious zeal. The Bishop of London has said that flying on holiday is a sin. The remark hopelessly muddles religion and politics. There is of course scientific evidence of global warming (but then is not a religion that teaches the creation an opponent of science rather than its ally?). What may need to be done about climate change is a political matter because it can involve bans, taxes and big spending, all of which will be hotly disputed. If the bishop wants to enter political debate he could say, with as good reason, that not to advocate nuclear power is sinful. His remark about flying is acceptable only in a society where people pay bishops no attention.
In other societies theocrats, religious leaders or fanatics citing holy texts dictate violent actions. That constitutes the greatest threat to world peace today. For the first time since the Glorious Revolution of 1688, mainland Britain is menaced by religious violence, now committed at the behest of Al-Qaeda.
I do not regard myself as a militant secularist. For example, I see no need (as the government does) to drive Catholic adoption agencies out of business because they will not place children with same-sex couples. I recognise that teaching religious belief may be a good way, perhaps the best way, to impart a sense of right and wrong to children and it is fundamental to our society's survival that most people should distinguish good from bad.
Many fine things are done by people because of their faith. As an MP I saw a number of examples. And as we mark the 200th anniversary of the abolition of the slave trade we are reminded that William Wilberforce, who brought it about, was a man driven by religious conviction who eschewed political ambition.
But if our political leaders cite faith as their political guide, then how do we distinguish ourselves from the religious extremists who wreak havoc in our world? It may seem harmless to "do God" a little in an essentially moderate country like ours. But once you claim that He is judging you or telling you what to do, there is no logical defence against another who claims that his God is instructing him to blow up discotheques or fly planes into buildings. If one God sent the Americans into Iraq, why shouldn't another insist that by every means it be defended against infidel attack?
My guess is that historians will look back on the early 21st century in puzzlement. How was it possible, they will ask, that man had such deep scientific understanding but clung so tenaciously to his gods? Why did western politicians think that doing God (even a tiny bit) was an electoral or strategic asset?
It would be good to know from Cameron that for him going to church is just a metaphor for wanting to be a good man and a good leader, and that he hears no voices, receives no divine instructions and looks only for the judgment of his fellow citizens. We could then sleep more easily at night.
Michael Portillo left the House of Commons in 2005 after a 30-year career with the Conservative Party, which took him from MP for Enfield Southgate to transport and local government minister to the Cabinet, where he served as Treasury Secretary and Secretary of State for Defence. Since leaving politics he has written weekly for The Sunday Times and made a number of documentaries for BBC2
michael.portillo@sunday-times.co.uk
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