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March 11, 2009
Caesar
Is Not God
by Ryan McMaken
In a recent speech
in Toronto, Charles Chaput, the Archbishop of
Denver, condemned what he called "a spirit of
adulation bordering on servility" that surrounds
Barack Obama and his administration. "We elect
public servants, not messiahs," said Chaput. And
while the term "public servant" is perhaps an
outrageously benign term for any president since
Coolidge, the point is well taken from Chaput, who
I can only assume has grown weary of hearing from
parishioners that the new president will make lame
beggars walk and blind men see.
Chaput goes on to say that "We owe no leader any
submission or cooperation in the pursuit of grave
evil," and that "we have a duty to change bad laws
and resist grave evil in our public life."
So when exactly is this sort of resistance
acceptable?
Chaput's words can be applied generally as we
shall see, but in this particular case, the
Archbishop is referring to the Obama
administration's position on abortion. This
position, Chaput notes, contrary even to Bill
Clinton's position that abortions should be safe,
legal, and rare, "is not only aggressively
'pro-choice'; it has also removed any suggestion
that killing an unborn child might be a regrettable
thing."
From Chaput's perspective as a Catholic bishop,
unborn children are humans with the same natural
rights as toddlers and adults. So when a
conscientious bishop finds himself confronted with
a civil government that turns a blind eye to what
the Church sees as a major form of violence against
millions of individuals, he is left to confront
what sort of obedience is due to such a
government.
Clearly, Chaput believes that abortion is a
"grave evil" and therefore "[w]e owe no
leader" who supports abortion "any submission or
cooperation" on the matter. But what of other
issues? What else counts as "grave evil," and under
what other circumstances might resistance to the
state be justified?
Resistance against civil government has been a
Catholic tradition since the very beginning. The
martyrs of the ancient world who died rather than
submit to the laws of the Roman Empire are still
venerated today, and modern martyrs like Miguel
Pro and the Cristeros
continue to inspire believers. Since the first
century, resistance to the state has always been
permitted under the proper circumstances, although
violent resistance is held to a much higher
standard.
To understand the nature of Catholic resistance,
one must understand the proper role of civil
government in the Catholic world view. From the
Catholic perspective, the central purpose of civil
government (which need not take the form of a
modern state) is simple. Civil government exists to
protect persons from violence and aggression by
others, and to provide for the common good. This is
not "common good" vaguely defined as "national
security" might be today. The common good is good
that is common to everyone. Outlawing murder, for
example, is in the interest of the common good,
because no one, not even murderers, truly benefits
from murder. A civil government that fails to do
this is not a legitimate government. Thus, such a
government must be resisted and certainly need not
be hailed, praised, obeyed, or applauded. This
position, explicitly stated, goes back at least to
Thomas Aquinas, and less explicitly, back to the
early Church Fathers.
Any government or state that acts in the
interests of the state itself, or for a particular
class, or which fails to maintain the rule of law
that protects natural rights, is in fact
illegitimate and may be morally overthrown.
Historically speaking, the church hierarchy is
rarely ever seen encouraging armed resistance, but
for Aquinas, even regicide was acceptable if a
state were sufficiently corrupt.
But we are still left with the problem of when
resistance is justified.
To answer this question, many fall back on
Matthew 22 in which Christ, when asked whether or
not a believer should pay taxes to the state, notes
the emperor's image on the tax money and declares
"render therefore to Caesar the things that are
Caesar's and to God the things that are God's."
Much is made of this comment, and it is often
presented as a proof that Christ considered even
Caesar's murderous and dictatorial rule to be
perfectly legitimate.
This certainly isn't the Catholic position.
Chaput's comments in Toronto were preceded and
clearly based on his book Render
Unto Caesar released last year. In the
book, Chaput explores the nature of Christ's
comments on Caesar.
While Christ's words clearly imply that
something should be afforded Caesar, it is not at
all clear as to what that might be. In sermons,
Chaput in the past has noted that the early Church
Fathers had one clever answer: Since the Roman coin
that was to be rendered unto Caesar bore Caesar's
image, then that which bears God's image should be
rendered unto God. Since every human person bears
God's image, then humanity itself belongs to God
while some coinage belongs to Caesar. This isn't
exactly a ringing endorsement of Caesar's
power.
In his book, Chaput reiterates this point by
noting that while civil government might be
afforded authority when acting justly, free will,
beauty, moral integrity, goodness, and immortal
souls all belong not to the state but to God.
But perhaps most important in this passage from
Matthew is the fact that a significant dichotomy
exists between Caesar and God. For the oriental
despotisms of the ancient world, and certainly for
the "divine" Caesars of the late Roman Empire,
there was not division between god and Caesar at
all. Yet, here is Christ making is quite clear that
Caesar is not God and God is not Caesar.
In his book Jesus
of Nazareth, Pope Benedict XVI writes about
just how subversive this message was. The very
language of early Christianity mocked the pretense
of divinity among rulers of the Roman Empire.
Benedict notes that in the days of the early
Church, "Son of God" was a title claimed by the
Emperors, and when the emperors sent out edicts to
be read to the masses these proclamations were
called "euangelions." So, the fact that the
Christians would claim that writings about their
Christ would be called euangelions and that
Christ himself (and Christ only) should be called
Son of God, provided a direct challenge to the
Roman state.
Consequently, philosopher Rémi Brague,
whom Chaput approvingly quotes in his book, writes
that "from the start, Christianity set itself
outside of the political domain, and its founding
texts bear witness to a distrust of things
political."
So what can we take away from this? We know that
governments and their agents are not imbued with
any kind of divine power. We know that Christians
of all time periods have morally opposed the state,
and we know that states are only legitimate when
acting in the common good and in accordance with
natural law.
But when exactly is civil government in
accordance with natural law?
This is where Chaput is hesitant to offer any
solid prescriptions. While this has disappointed
many of his readers who expected him to put forth
some kind of political ideology, Chaput wisely
refrains from this. This is the position he has to
take since, as Chaput notes, "the church has no
special claim to policy competence." In other
words, on matters of faith and morals, the Church
can provide doctrinal certainty, but on everything
else, the interpretation of natural law depends on
the economists and philosophers and physical
scientists.
This means that what counts as "grave evil," and
demands a withholding of "any submission or
cooperation" can vary depending on how one defines
it. As libertarians, we define most government
action as a type of unjust aggression against
individuals. If individuals are taxed to fund
abortions and unjust wars and police brutality and
a nuclear arsenal, is not the very act of taxation
a form of grave evil? If millions are impoverished
by outrageous economic policies and the wealth of
millions more is stolen through inflation and
government spending that leads to economic
collapse, is this not evil as well?
The answer to all of this is yes, of course. A
state that impoverishes and kills and destroys, and
all at enormous expense to taxpaying families, most
certainly does not act for the common good. Nor
does such a state even keep the peace when wars
rage constantly overseas and the police state grows
to proportions never before seen in American
history. Yet, it remains to be seen how many
Americans, let alone how many Catholics, agree with
this assessment.
Catholic libertarians should take note.
Libertarian political theory, itself grounded in
natural law theory and a profound respect for human
rights and human dignity, still has much work to
do, but this tradition can only supplement and
strengthen the traditional Catholic views of the
state.
Chaput's assessment of "a spirit of adulation
bordering on servility" that surrounds Obama is
sound enough, but if skepticism toward the
government is warranted now, it was just as
warranted in 2003 when the American state invaded
Iraq with no justification and in obvious violation
of Catholic Just War theory. And skepticism was
certainly warranted during the six years of
complete Republican rule when the GOP did not once
even attempt to end taxpayer subsidies to Planned
Parenthood while simultaneously demonizing Planned
Parenthood in fundraising letters.
Distrust and skepticism of the state is a
Catholic tradition, and is warranted now as always.
Nevertheless, it is a shame that it has taken this
long for an American bishop to say so.
Ryan
McMaken [send
him mail]
teaches political science in Colorado.
Copyright
© 2009 by LewRockwell.com. Permission to
reprint granted.
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