Ashes to Ashcroft
Ashes to Ashcroft
Do deeply held religious convictions pose a threat to government? May we trust a man like John Ashcroft, whose outlook appears to be saturated by faith, to serve as U.S. attorney general?
It may seem odd, at first, that such a question is asked at all. Odd that sincere religious belief--at least when it comes to holding public office--should be counted as a liability, whereas agnosticism and atheism are presumed to pose no problem whatsoever. But there is a logic to the question--if indeed there is a reasonable concern that some higher authority will interfere with the execution of the republic's human ones.
But is there a reasonable concern? That depends. There are religions, and then there are religions. Clearly a man whose God calls for him to overthrow the American system of government would disqualify himself for public office immediately, as would a theocrat for whom clerical edicts would trump federal and state laws.
But of course John Ashcroft is not this sort of man. He is, rather, the kind of Christian whose belief wholeheartedly supports democracy, the rule of law and religious freedom. To put it starkly: He believes that his savior and lord, Jesus Christ, approves of the American system of government.
But that won't save him from his critics, who cringe at such a claim, since they don't think the name of Jesus should be used in a political conversation. But this is a kind of bigotry. We easily accept the idea that broad liberal sentiments inspire public service and that secular, humanitarian ideals are harmonious with American democracy. Why not religious convictions too?
Of course, any truths that anyone holds dear--secular or divinely ordained--must exist in the real world on the same footing as others, under constitutional provisions that hold for everyone. But there is nothing in Mr. Ashcroft's record to suggest that he thinks otherwise.
So why do some people still find his religion so threatening? The answer, I think, is almost philosophical. It has been standard modern practice to speak of religion in isolation, as something separate. Thus we hear of "religion and society" or "religion and politics." This manner of speech has its roots in the European Enlightenment's conviction that Christianity was a kind of residual entity that would soon be made obsolete by the progress of science and reason.
The U.S. was founded at a time when the En-lightenment was beginning to win American converts. Thomas Jefferson expressed the new moralism of the Enlightenment when, in a letter to his nephew, Peter Carr (Aug. 10, 1787), he encouraged him to read the Bible. If such reading, Jefferson wrote to Carr, "ends in a belief that there is no God, you will find incitements to virtue in the comfort and pleasantness you feel in its exercise, and the love of others which it will procure you. If you find reason to believe there is a God, a consciousness that you are acting under his eye, and that he approves you, will be a vast additional incitement."
From this point of view, religion is judged by its pragmatic usefulness--its power to inspire public virtue. Whether God exists, whether faith can be felt to be personally true, does not matter.
The problem with Mr. Ashcroft, in the eyes of those who have been influenced more by the Enlightenment than by Christianity, is that he reveres God as truly superior to himself and, in a moral sense, to the republic. That is, he takes religion too seriously for a modern man. He does not treat it as either a utilitarian device or a merely private affair.
Of course, if Mr. Ashcroft's political convictions on, say, abortion were the same as those who now fault him, his critics would applaud his belief as an incitement to virtue. But he holds views contrary to their own. How to explain his unwillingness to join their moral majority? Disparage his religion as something dangerous--something out of the mainstream that belongs to a darker, or less "enlightened," age.
And the best way to do this is to suggest, implausibly, that Mr. Ashcroft is blinded by his faith, that it is so illiberal that it renders him unable to honor his obligations as a public official, to revere the Constitution, to obey the law it is his job to enforce. But it is an absurd suggestion: After all, George W. Bush will put his hand on the Bible tomorrow as he takes the oath of office, just like other presidents before him. Somehow, the republic will survive, and perhaps even prosper.
James Skillen is president of the Center for Public Justice in Annapolis, Md.
