Andrew Sorokowski's column

Catholicism And Democracy

15.09.2011, 16:57
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One may or may not agree with the respected churchman's evaluation of how history has shaped Ukrainian national character. But few people are likely to be surprised that a Catholic prelate is proceeding on the assumption that democracy is good and desirable.

Andrew SorokowskiIn an article that recently appeared in "Dzerkalo Tyzhnia.Ukraina," Major Archbishop Emeritus Lubomyr Cardinal Husar remarked that it was difficult for Ukrainians to be democrats. One reason for this, he wrote, is that Ukrainians tend to imitate others rather than listening to themselves; to blindly accept the forms adopted by other nations is mistaken. Another reason is that they lack a deep democratic tradition. And having lived under foreign occupation for centuries, Ukrainians have lost their sense of responsibility, blaming all their misfortunes on their occupants (reported in Patriiarkhat No. 4, 2011, p. 31).

One may or may not agree with the respected churchman's evaluation of how history has shaped Ukrainian national character. But few people are likely to be surprised that a Catholic prelate is proceeding on the assumption that democracy is good and desirable.

Yet it has not always been so. On the Continent, the democratic ideal is generally associated not only with classical Athens but with the French Revolution, which in its most radical phase attacked the Church and religion itself, turning Notre Dame de Paris into a Temple of Reason and replacing Catholicism with a rationalist cult. French troops imprisoned the Pope and, taking Voltaire's infamous words to heart, nearly eradicated the Catholic Church altogether. The nineteenth and twentieth centuries saw the convoluted attempts of French Catholic intellectuals to come to terms with the republican ideal. But in the war between Church and State, the State ultimately won, and the decline of French Catholicism appears to have sealed its victory.

As Kyr Lubomyr once pointed out, the experience of France does not necessarily apply to Ukraine. But the experiences of other Catholic countries show a similar tension, if not outright conflict, between Catholicism and democracy. In Italy, the French revolutionary ideal combined with nationalism in direct opposition to the Papacy. At first hailed as a friend of republicanism, Pope Pius IX became its enemy and, in effect, its prisoner. In the following century, Church and State remained cautious rivals. Meanwhile in Spain, an anti-clerical Republic was defeated by a quasi-fascist dictatorship, with the Church as its sometimes uncomfortable ally. But in today's democratic Spain, Catholicism has declined precipitously. Only in Ireland and Poland, where Catholicism was closely linked with national resistance movements, did the Catholic and democratic ideals seem to harmonize. But in contemporary Poland, society has again become bitterly divided between Catholic and liberal-democratic forces. Even in the United States – where the Major Archbishop spent his formative years – the "golden age" of Catholic accommodation with a democratic State eventually broke down in a continuing series of bitter disputes.

If we look to the histories of the countries that colonized or occupied Ukraine, the picture is similarly ambiguous. On the one hand, medieval Muscovy, imperial Russia, and the Soviet Union, being neither Catholic nor particularly democratic, provide no experience comparable to that of the Catholic West. On the other hand, Catholic Poland-Lithuania was a pioneer in reviving the democratic ideal, albeit only for its numerous nobility, and Habsburg Austria had functioning democratic institutions, as did the interwar Polish Republic. Yet in Austria and modern Poland, the State clashed repeatedly with the Catholic Church.

Given this checkered history of Catholic experience with democracy, why should the former head of the Ukrainian Greek-Catholic Church unreservedly urge his countrymen to be democrats? Perhaps the answer lies in the historical experience of the Ukrainians themselves. True, if one goes back to the origins of Ukrainian democracy, one cannot avoid the fact that the Zaporozhian Cossacks were bitter enemies of Catholicism – though not, at least primarily, for theological reasons. But the Ukrainian Greek-Catholic Church can proudly point to its clergy's participation in the Ruthenian awakening in nineteenth-century Galicia, in the Ukrainian populist revival at the turn of the twentieth century, and in the national resistance after the 1920s. In each case, churchmen supported an essentially democratic political movement. But one can also point to bishops and clergy who opposed these movements. True, in the past century democracy has emerged as the Ukrainians' only acceptable alternative to communism, fascism, and materialistic socialism, all of which opposed Christianity and were condemned in papal encyclicals. But while Metropolitans Andrei Sheptytsky and Iosyf Slipyj heroically resisted both German fascism and Soviet communism, they did so not so much in the name of democracy as in that of Catholic principles of a just social order.

In fact, Church teaching can better explain Cardinal Husar's enthusiasm for democratic consciousness among his flock than the historical record. Even the triple ideal of the French Revolution – Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity – can be understood, without distortion, to reflect Christian ideals (which, indeed, likely inspired them in the first place). Without Liberty, one cannot choose good over evil. Without Equality in dignity, humans do not treat each other as brothers and sisters – a Christian ideal reflected in the oft-neglected third revolutionary principle, Fraternity.

And yet, the Catholic Church does not see democracy as an ultimate value. Why is that? First, one must ask, "What is democracy?" The Greek word means "rule by the people." But rule over whom? Evidently, what is meant is that the people rule themselves. But this is an absurd notion. One can only rule another. (Even an individual does not rule himself, except in the sense that he exercises self-mastery or self-control, and this surely is not what is meant by democracy.) Instead, what "democracy" really means is that the people elect an authority – that is, a government -- to rule them. (This gives the lie to the notion that democracy is incompatible with authority; on the contrary, there can be no democracy without authority.) Normally, the people elect this government by vote.

Naturally, there is more to "democracy" than voting in an election. Even an elected authority can be abusive. Thus, to safeguard the people, various institutions are required: the rule of law and an independent judiciary; a separation of executive, legislative, and judicial powers; fundamental human rights; the existence of civil society, populated by a panoply of intermediate institutions; and so on. The fundamental idea, however, is that legitimate authority is derived from the people and is embodied in the government that they elect.

The Church sees things a bit differently. The authority required by the moral order derives from God (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2nd ed., 1997, no. 1899; Romans 13: 1-2). As long as authority belongs to the order established by God, "the choice of the political regime and the appointment of rulers are left to the free decision of the citizens." The diversity of political regimes is morally acceptable, provided they serve the legitimate good of the communities that adopt them (Catechism no. 1901; Second Vatican Council, Gaudium et Spes sec. 74 para. 3). Thus, democracy is not an end in itself. After all, even a democratically elected government can issue unjust and immoral laws. Rather, democracy is desirable only insofar as it serves the common good. It is only because in our world, democracies are more likely than, say, oligarchies or autocracies to serve the good of the community, that Catholics tend to prefer them today.

In today's Ukraine, where democracy is losing ground to oligarchy and possibly autocracy, the Major Archbishop's preference for democracy is evidently based on a concern for the common good. It is this, and not the idolization of democracy, that is central. In that perspective, the implications of his three criticisms of Ukrainians' weak democratic instincts become clear. First, to serve the good of one's community, one must listen to that community rather than mechanically relying on imported templates. Only then can one understand what kinds of laws and institutions that community needs. Second, if one's nation lacks a "deep democratic tradition," it must carefully select what is best from its own experience as well as from that of other nations, and tailor it to its present legitimate needs. There will also be traditions that, while not specifically democratic in nature, are vital to maintain a healthy society. Finally, if Ukrainians have really lost their sense of responsibility and developed a habit of blaming some alien authority for every setback, then perhaps they need to be reminded that "the choice of the political regime and the appointment of rulers" – whether democratic or otherwise – "are left to the free decision of the citizens." Those who fail to exercise wise choices for the common good cannot be heard to complain that their individual good has not been served.  

Good and just government is not simply a matter of choosing the right political system, or even of operating that system properly. Rather, it is a matter of conforming human government, which is always imperfect, to a divine order characterized by justice, truth, and the common good. This is what some people mean by “democracy.” But it is much more than a form of government. 

Andrew SOROKOWSKI

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