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'Cheerful'
Anti-religious Sentiments Flourish in Europe
by
Michael K. Young
 For
those who travel the world in search of cities that play an important
role in world affairs, Brussels, Belgium is hard to beat. As the
host city to the headquarters of the European Union, it is the heart
and soul of perhaps the most interesting attempt in history to link
great—and historically highly antagonistic—nations together.
But Brussels
is also home to some of the most relentlessly cheerful anti-religious
sentiment that you can find anywhere in the world.. I saw this first
hand during a recent trip to the European capital on behalf of the
Commission on International Religious Freedom, which I chair.
"Harmful
Sectarian Organizations"
Perhaps the most disturbing—though highly amusing, if that
is an appropriate word to use in this context—manifestation
of that sentiment emerged during a conversation with the Executive
Director of Belgium's new Sectarian Activities Observation Commission,
created to keep an eye on what the Belgium legislature has labeled
(with far more enthusiasm and optimism than wisdom) "harmful sectarian
organizations" or, more prosaically, cults. In expressing our concern
about these laws and their potential impact on religious liberties
in Belgium (and, even more importantly, in other countries, like
Russia and the Ukraine, that might take cues from Europe), I noted
a series of disturbing developments, including the Belgium government's
decision to deny all visas to Mormon missionaries for almost a year.
It seemed unlikely to me, I told the Executive Director, that young
Mormons were so dangerous to the minds of the average Belgium burgher
that they must be kept at bay, like Al Queda terrorists or Colombian
drug lords.
Of course I
expected the director to defend his government's actions. But I
was not prepared for the precise nature of his defense. Upon raising
this practice as an example of precisely the kind of mischief these
laws can cause, he said dismissively—and in rather good humor—that
I should not worry. This clearly was not an example of anti-Mormonism,
he said. Rather, he told me, the official who denied the visas was
not anti-Mormon at all; in fact, he was universally anti-religion
and anti-cleric and had denied visas to all foreign religious workers,
including those from Korea, Africa and South America. After a stunned
silence, I finally told him that he might be surprised just how
little comfort his response gave me.
A Contrast
But at some levels, I suppose I should not have been surprised at
all. After all, in 1789, just as the United States was debating
and then adopting the Bill of Rights to the Constitution, the National
Assembly of France, reflecting France's own revolutionary impulses,
was passing a national decree also designed to define and establish
the relationship between the church and the state.
At some level,
both countries were addressing a similar concern. Many Americans
had come to the New World precisely to escape the tyranny of a majority
religion. They desired protection against the incursions such a
religion might make on their personal liberties. In particular,
they did not want the federal government to take sides in the various
disputes between and among religions or to impose some version of
a state religion on its citizens who might choose to worship differently
from the majority.
France citizens
too were concerned about the control the church, in this case, the
Catholic Church, had over their lives. The role of the Church and
its representatives was considered enormously oppressive by many;
indeed, many considered the Church a fellow traveler with the monarch
and thus an enemy to true liberty, equality and brotherhood, the
three ideological pillars of the French Revolution.
Here, however,
the similarities end. As we all know, while fearful of the state,
Americans remained enamored of religion and recognized its importance—indeed,
centrality—in their lives. They responded by placing limits
on the state and its capacity to interfere with religion and otherwise
giving religion a special, if somewhat limited place in the public
square. Those limitations on the state and that delineation of the
favored place of religion are enshrined in perhaps America's greatest
contribution to the world's thinking on the state, namely, the First
Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. That Amendment reads in relevant
part: "Congress shall make no law respective an establishment of
religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof…"
The French,
on the other hand, took a quite different tack. Instead of distancing
the state from the Church, the National Assembly essentially confiscated
all church property. The decree of 1789, elegant in its simplicity,
declared that all church and clerical property was now available
for use by the state. In other words, the state now owned the church's
assets and those assets could only be used by the church under the
direction of the state.
Fast forward
over 200 years later, as America and France continue to wrestle
with the thorny issues of church-state relations, and that fundamental
difference in approach is still glaringly apparent. And, frankly,
in the case of France (and now Belgium), the approach to this problem
is just as pernicious as it was 200 years ago during the glorious
excesses of the French Revolution.
The Anti-Cult
Legislation
Nowhere are these differences more apparent than in France's and
Belgium's current anti-cult legislation. Passed in the aftermath
of the spectacular suicide of the adherents of the Solar Temple
in Switzerland and the increase in both membership and the public's
awareness of Scientology, these French laws attack the "problem"
of "harmful sectarian activity" from four slightly different directions.
First, the laws established a so-called cult observatory commission,
supposedly composed of political figures of some eminence, to study
various religious movements with an eye to identifying "harmful
sectarian organizations." The commission is supposed to provide
objective information and analysis of such religions to both the
general public and to government agencies. It is sort of a religious
consumer affairs bureau.
Second, the
laws mandate the national security forces to pay particular attention
to the activities of these harmful sectarian organizations, with
an eye to intercepting and curtailing any activity that is against
the law or the public interest. Third, an interagency group is ordered
to monitor the activities of these organizations and to take appropriate
action throughout each ministry to protect adequately the public
interest.
Finally, these
laws establish new crimes that might be "committed" by these harmful
sectarian organizations. The list of crimes is bizarre, to say the
least. For example, the laws prohibit "fraudulent abuses of a state
of ignorance or weakness" or "mental manipulation"—whatever
those crimes are—at least when the perpetrators are members
of harmful sectarian organizations, whatever those organizations
are. The "overbearing of the will" is also enjoined, a law that
all three of my children undoubtedly would have devoutly desired
to invoke and invoke frequently during their respective childhoods.
To someone trained
in the law, these various laws and regulations are nutty in the
extreme. Of course, thoughtful European lawyers agree. Virtually
all the experts who testified before the legislatures in both France
and Belgium during the parliamentary debate on these laws opined,
for example, that there simply was no way to define a sect. Or,
put slightly differently, there is no way to define a sect that
permits one to distinguish with any accuracy (and honesty) between
one religion and another. All religions possess many of the characteristics
of a sect. Indeed, virtually all religions began life as disfavored
by the majority religion as any so-called sect is today. In short,
all the experts agreed. The legislators were on a fool's errand.
Our Increasing
Concern
Our Commission had become increasingly concerned over the application
of this law during the past few years. Complaints from such well-known
and well-established religions as the Seventh-Day Adventists, the
Assemblies of God and the Jehovah's Witnesses had joined a chorus
of more esoteric and exotic religions, like the Scientologists,
the Hare Krishna and Falun Gong. And as I mentioned earlier, even
the Mormons have been caught in the net, though, happily, the policy
regarding visas has now been reversed.
We have been
concerned in large part because the conventional justification for
these laws is almost certainly not the real motivation behind them.
Indeed, the major conventional justification appears to be that
the French and the Belgiums need special protection from the religious
predators, an assumption clearly predicated on the notion that Belgium
and France are populated by hundreds of thousands, perhaps even
millions, of feeble minded citizens who cannot reason for themselves.
After all, the law serves no purpose unless the average Frenchman
or Belgium citizen is so addle-minded that his or her will is likely
to be overborne by a rousing sermon by a Southern Baptist minister
or an Assemblies of God preacher, a number of whom were under expulsion
orders, by the way, on exactly the same day I was having this enlightening
conversation with my observatory commission interlocutor. Of course,
I have certainly been known to fall asleep a time or two during
some sacrament meeting talks in our own church, but are the French
so simple-minded and weak-willed that they would not fall asleep,
but irrationally convert and, heaven forbid, perhaps even pay tithing.
It is possible, of course, but it does not reflect the mental capabilities
of the French and Belgiums with whom I am acquainted. Perhaps the
government knows of millions of weak-minded French, but, so far
at least, they have largely escaped my notice.
No, what the
French are really concerned about is exactly the opposite, namely,
that religion might actually come to play some part in the lives
of its citizens. It is not the weak-mindedness of the French that
worries these French politicians and bureaucrats. To the contrary,
it is precisely their independence and intelligence that they fear.
And, most of all, it is the possibility that religion might replace
some variation of the prevailing religion of secular humanism that
so terrifies the French elite, or at least so it seems.
This takes us
back to our original point. Both the United States and France wrestled—and
continue to wrestle—with the relationship between church and
state. But the solutions devised by both societies could not be
more different. The French seem to work assiduously to minimize
the room given religion in their society. In the United States,
on the other hand, while anti-clerical and anti-religious forces
certainly abound, our general approach has been quite different
from the French. We generally agree that of all the things the state
can do, the one it cannot is to exclude religion from public life.
In fact, for the most part, it cannot even interfere. It cannot
take sides, of course. Neither can it provide particular comfort
or support to any particular religion or even all religions. But
neither can it discriminate against religion or diminish religion's
capacity to be a force in public life.
None of this
is to say that our system works perfectly. Virtually all lawyers
who study these issues have quibbles with the way the law and the
Constitution are interpreted and applied. But only the least perception
among us would not concede that there is a great difference between
the way we handle these matters and the way many of our European
friends address them.
I have puzzled
long and hard over this divergence between us and the Continent.
After all, in so many matters our ideology and our basic values
are identical, or at least very, very close. What is it about our
history, our culture, our experience or our attitudes that causes
such a fundamental difference in this area? And while I do not have
any sure answer, I am increasingly inclined to think that perhaps
at least some part of the problem lies in the historic role of religion
in our different societies.
 No
Religion Dominant
Put simply, at the time of the formation of our country, no
religion was dominant. Indeed, those religions most represented
in the general population were, for the most part, decidedly minority
religions on the Continent. Or at least a very large percentage
of Americans were members of religious orders that generally had
not been in a position of dominance in the countries from which
the new Americans had come. Moreover, while one could identify a
majority religion in almost every state, in no state was the dominance
of that religion overwhelming. Moreover, the religion that was the
majority in one state was certainly not the religion in all states;
indeed, it often was not even the majority religion in the bordering
states. In other words, the United States was not only a melting
pot of sorts for peoples, it was a veritable stew pot of religions.
In light of
this happy mix of religions, those creating the new government did
not feel particularly threatened by the possibility that any particular
religion might achieve such a position of primacy that it could
threaten the rights of even its own believers, much less members
of other churches. In fact, their experience had been just the opposite.
Many had left countries where the state had given favor to one religion,
often at the great expense of another religion and its believers.
It was this government intervention in the affairs of religion and
the possibility that religion would interfere in the affairs of
state that worried the founders, not the possibility that a particular
religion would oppress others.
Europe's experience
had been quite different. In fact, the majority religion and the
monarch were generally the twin pillars of authority in every country,
with one giving comfort, support and legitimacy to the other. The
tyranny of the monarch and the tyranny of the church were often
virtually co-terminus. And it was against these dual tyrannies that
the people revolted.
Not surprisingly,
in light of that history, the Europeans were more inclined to limit
the reach of the church in any way they could. And one way they
could do it was to confiscate the church's property, reducing its
resources and correspondingly reducing its capacity to control the
lives of its members and largely eliminating its ability to harm
the lives of non-believers.
This anti-religious
theme not only influenced the theory and structure of government,
but, over time, it came to dominate the thinking of intellectuals
and other elites and spilled over into society in general. What
started as a method to ensure liberty for all became a quest to
constrict the liberty of the church.
A Pervasive
Sentiment
That vaguely anti-religious sentiment still permeates virtually
every conversation with European government officials. More importantly,
perhaps, it also seems to have spread throughout society in a way
that has dramatically diminished the role of religion in the lives
of the vast majority of Europeans. Even in Belgium, the government
officials were a little surprised by the fuss. Nor surprisingly,
only one in ten Belgiums claims any real allegiance to a religion
or claims that religion plays any significant role in their lives.
Only about the same number claims that they attend church even on
an irregular basis. In light of that statistic, it is not surprising
that the French and Belgium officials were not entirely clear why
we seemed to care so much about a few Assemblies of God ministers
or a couple of young Mormon Elders.
But the more
I thought about it, the more unsettling insight from this trip derived
not from what the European governments were doing, but
why. I came away with the distinct impression that at least
some substantial percentage of the problems that churches now face
in Europe are the results of the way in which their churches behaved
200 years ago. Churches that identified too closely with the oppressive
rulers and otherwise were part of the problem of religious oppression
caused the reaction we see in Europe today. As people gradually
sought to break lose from the tyranny of the past, their first instinct
was not to embrace the church as an ally in their fight for freedom,
but rather to limit and cabin off the church, just as they had the
king, the nobility and other repressive forces in their society.
But why is that
such an unsettling lesson? What has it got to do with freedom of
religion today?
I think the
answer is relatively simple. At the most fundamental level, how
churches and their believers behave has some significant impact
on the overall societal response to religion. If churches are on
the side of the angels—for these purposes, if churches and their
members are at the fore, arguing for freedom of religion for everyone,
not just their own believers and co-religionist—then the society
in which that church is located will, in the long run, view that
church as a force for good and will work to ensure adequate space
in the public square for that and other churches. But if the churches
and their believers support the suppression of all disagreement
and otherwise attempt to restrict the rights of people who might
believe differently than they do, then, when society finally begins
to think about true freedom and to organize itself in an open and
tolerant way, then religion will be on the wrong side of history.
The people will claim their freedom and their dignity, not hand
in hand with their priests and their ministers, but rather by restricting
their religions and their churches.
I think about
this a great deal as I formulate my own opinions about how we ought
to organize ourselves here in the United States regarding religious
freedom and tolerance. In the final analysis, while it does not
provide an easy answer to every question, it does suggest to me
that I best protect my freedom of religion and that of my family
by working as hard as I can to guaranty the freedom of religion
for everyone else. When our church—or any church, for that
matter—is viewed as a supporter of freedom for others, then
others are likely to consider the church an indispensable ally in
the fight for liberty and give the church a place of honor in the
public square. In the final analysis, the most practical reason
in the world to fight for the freedom of others is to ensure freedom
for ourselves, our children and their children after them.
If the history
of Europe and the United States shows us anything, it shows us that
what goes around, comes around. And when it comes around, I want
to be sure that I am on the right side of history and am counted
among those who have worked their hardest to ensure that everyone
has the same freedoms and rights that I want to claim for myself
and for my family. The fight for religious liberties for others
is, at the end of the day, only the fight for our own religious
liberties.
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