A frequent debate in British politics is the discussion around the extent to which faith leaders should speak up on political matters. The typical pattern is for a Christian leader to criticise something the government of the day has done on the grounds of their Christian ethics, following which they are told to get their beak out of politics by the party who has been scolded, but are applauded as an important voice of morality by the party who agrees with them.
This pattern has become so familiar that it is greeted with eye rolling by those within the Church, who respond with the pat arguments that if you don't think Jesus had anything to say about the poor and needy you can't be very familiar with his work. And Mouse suspects that the view of the general public is that we would generally expect religious leaders to speak up on eithical issues.
But there are some issues which buck this trend.
In the UK, the abortion debate lacks the intensity that it has in the US, but is still one in which the Christian voice, and particularly that of the Catholic Church, is prominent. However, their views are often labelled as 'religious objections'. The view that life begins at conception is considered a matter of faith, rather than an objective truth, so all that follows from that belief is a subjective morality, relevant only if you hold to that foundational article of faith.
This has the effect of putting those 'religious views' into a box, relevant only to religious adherents. The response from secular society is then that if you believe abortion to be wrong 'on religious grounds', then we'll respect that, but you shouldn't expect us non-believers to abide by your religious rules. The strategy of Respect and Ignore.
The debate on assisted dying came unexpectedly quickly. Mouse commented before that Church leaders appeared unprepared. The new government had long indicated it would allow a free vote on the issue, but when Kim Leadbeater secured a coveted place at the top of the ballot for private members bills in the House of Commons she pushed that vote much earlier in the Parliamentary timetable than many had expected.
It was widely observed that the debate in the Commons and the wider public debate was conducted with respect and dignity all round. It was broadly accepted that both proponents and opponents of the measure were both attempting to work through a very difficult issue, minimise suffering, balance conflicting rights and protect the vulnerable.
But there was a rumble in the debate which was not happy.
The Humanists UK accused Christian lobbyists of 'hiding' their true motivations for opposing the Bill. Lewis Goodall wrote in the i Newspaper with a similar attack on Christian MPs for being 'dishonest' about their real reasons for opposing the Bill, suggesting that they should declare their Christian faith. He notes that 'religious MPs’ opposition is rarely articulated in overtly theological terms' and that opposing assisted dying 'largely or principally on the basis of one’s own faith alone, in a modern cosmopolitan democracy such as our own, seems far from satisfactory'. The respect and ignore strategy.
There was a fascinating exchange on Radio 4's Sunday programme between Chine McDonald, Director of the Theos think-tank, and broadcaster Mark Mardell. Mardell makes a similar argument again, saying that opposing assisted dying 'for religious reasons' would amount to 'stuffing your beliefs down my throat' and that those holding such beliefs should be honest that the real reason for the opposition is not concern for coercion or a desire for better palliative care but the belief that life comes from God and only He can take it away.
It seems to Mouse that there has been a failure here to unpack what is meant by 'religious beliefs' and specifically a misunderstanding of the difference between ethics and theology.
Theology is principally concerned with understanding the nature of God, while ethics is principally concerned with how best to live in the world. Christian ethics naturally considers that question from the perspective of the Christian faith.
Even in the Church we have fallen foul of missing the distinction, sometimes intentionally. In our debates about sexuality we talk about ethical issues as if they are theological issues. We use language like 'teaching of the Church' to obscure the fact that the Church's ethical teaching is not the same type of doctrine as its theological teaching. Sometimes, this is intentional as questions of Christian ethics imply issues where different perspectives are possible and compromise is likely required. There are questions where human reason and experience come into play, rather than simply questions of Biblical interpretation. By contrast, if you can 'win' the argument with a killer exegesis on clear Biblical grounds, then compromise and perspective is out of the question. The question of how can a Christian best live in the world when it comes to sex is translated into a theological question of what the Bible says we can and cannot do with regards to sex.
Mouse suspects some of this comes from the inheritance of the protestant tradition where the questions being asked by the reformers were theological ones rather than ethical ones, primarily concerned with issues like the nature of salvation, whereas the Catholic tradition has had a greater emphasis on ethics. The tradition which trumpets sola sciptura is one which sets a firm foundation for its theology, but runs into difficulty with its ethics.
So it is no wonder that those outside the Church also miss the distinction.
When critics question the 'real' motives behind ethical objections to assisted dying, they are imagining a theological argument, along the lines articulated by Mark Mardell. A belief which relies on a matter of faith for it to hold water. If you don't believe that God is the giver of life, then the house of cards on which that argument is built falls apart. It also implies that other questions raised, such as concern for vulnerable people will be coerced or guilt-tripped into prematurely ending their lives for the convenience of uncaring relatives are seen as a smoke-screen behind which the real theological objection is hidden.
In truth, the view is an ethical one. The lessons we learn from the Christian tradition teach us how best to live with each other in the world. The message that we learn is that the world is a better place when we put in place legal measures to make sure that nobody can be coerced into ending their life and that mutuality and care for others in our community is better for us all than a society where everyone has to look after themselves. There is a theological foundation under that, but the view is also informed by reason, experience, an understanding of human nature and the human condition.
For this reason, there is a growing body of opinion who have argued that Christian ethics are of critical importance outside the Christian faith. Historian Tom Holland has persuasively argued that the secular ethics which the Church's strongest critics trumpet are, in fact, rooted in the Christian tradition from which they sprung. The secular humanism of the Humanists UK, which values personal freedom and respect for the individual are a product of the protestant reformation which insisted that each individual must make their own personal commitment to their faith. To this extent, the secular and Christian ethics at play in the debate on assisted dying are both expressions of the same philosophical tradition and it is quite wrong for one of those to suggest the other is illegitimate.
From a different perspective, the growth of 'cultural Christianity' has shown increasing numbers of people who embrace Christian ethics, recognising the benefits to society of organising itself along a strong ethical framework, while not necessarily accepting the theological beliefs from which it was derived. While some on the progressive side of the Church fear that these arguments flirt with Christian nationalism, there is a strong link with Tom Holland's perspective that the Western ethical and philosophical perspective is inherently bound with Christian ethics, but takes it further to suggest that this should not just be understood as the backdrop to our public debates, but actively championed as the organising principle for our polity.
When Mouse heard the criticisms from those arguing that religious lobbyists and MPs were 'hiding' their true reasons for opposing assisted dying, it struck Mouse that the reaction from the Church was rather confused. We weren't sure how to react to that. We certainly didn't want to deny that our faith informed out position and there was no suggestion that a Christian perspective should not be heard, but we were unable to pick apart the argument to articulate clearly that while there is a Christian foundation to our ethics, the principles being argued for stand on their own two feet whether you accept the Christian heritage from which they developed or not. The gut reaction was to assume that the old argument was being made that Christians should stick to singing hymns on Sundays and stay out of politics was being made, so some kicked back that Christians had and important point to make. While true, that is slightly off-target. The point we need to make is that Christian ethics has something important to say about how we live in community today regardless of whether you accept the theological tradition behind it. In other words, engage with the argument we're making, not the one you think we should be making.
If we're not able to re-claim this territory, then there is a real danger that anyone who holds to a religious faith will have everything they say labelled as a religious argument, to be pushed out of the public sphere and relegated into a matter only relevant to those who share those religious views. This would be a great shame not only for those within the Church who have so much to offer in ethical discussions, but also for everyone else who would unknowingly begin to divorce the ethical foundations of our society from their foundations.