In the history of reflection on the relationship of politics and Christianity, one of the questions that often comes up is whether or not Jesus' ethical teaching, like that of the Sermon on the Mount, is politically applicable and, if applicable, practicable. On the horns of that dilemma Reinhold Niehbur developed the Christian realist position – effectively arguing that it was neither. Niehbur, if you recall, is Barak Obama’s favourite author, a fact that I recalled when pictures emerged of the President and his staff watching the attack on Osama bin Laden’s compound.
It's always surprising, therefore, when politicians appeal to the Golden Rule. Admittedly, when they do it seems to hold a bland quality – and they usually follow it up with the assertion that it’s a sentiment that people of all faiths and none can share. While that’s true in one sense, it’s worth recalling that in its Matthean setting (Matt. 7.12) the Golden Rule comes as part of one of the most demanding passages of ethical teaching in history. Jesus intensifies the Jewish law, removing interpretive loopholes and making it so exacting that many highly regarded theologians have described it as un-keepable on an individual, never mind a societal, level. What would it mean in terms of defence? Or criminal justice?
The Prime Minister’s Easter message, containing exactly this kind of (Brownian) appeal to the abstracted Golden Rule and Jesus’ humanist legacy, comes at a time when the religious politics of the UK is in some flux. On the one hand, the Conservative-led coalition seems very warm to the Establishment, individual politicians have spent political capital defending Christianity (Pickles and Bideford town council prayers) and Baroness Warsi relentlessly assails militant secularism.
On the other, the Coalition is doing plenty to which the religious object: gay marriage, benefit caps opposed by the Bishops in the House of Lords, and relaxing restrictions on Sunday trading. Relations between the Conservative Party and Archbishop of Canterbury have rarely been so intemperate. On top of this, you have the Bradford West by-election lost on the basis of the Muslim vote peeling away from Labour. North of the border, the SNP has successfully wooed both Catholics and Protestants to the nationalist cause.
I don’t ‘think’ there’s a ‘God strategy’ at play in the Conservative Party. Rather, there’s genuine warmth, a sense of shared interests (Jesus was the founder of the Big Society, according to Cameron), mixed with annoyance about the perceived lefty-ness of the CoE hierarchy, mixed with an impulse to court other groups by making socially liberal noises on a range of issues. But for a moment, let’s imagine that Cameron was making a concerted attempt to charm the religious. Would it work?
Jesus might have been George Bush’s favourite philosopher, but now it’s atheist Ayn Rand (founder of ‘objectivism’, a hyper-egoist and repudiator of anything collectivist, solidaristic or charitable) who is in vogue, particularly amongst Tea Party-ish Republicans. Last year, religious Democrats thought in this they’d found wedge to split the GOP from elements of its conservative Christian base. Who will it be, Jesus or Ayn Rand? A number of leading Christian Republicans (Chuck Colson, for example) had got the impression that you can’t have both.
Do as you would be done by, Mr Cameron? Are you sure? The problem with religious rhetoric is not the prospect of theocracy, ridiculously touted by the National Secular Society and assorted commentators, but the prospect that Christians might hold you to it.
Paul Bickley
