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    By Adrian E. Cristobal
     

    THREE centuries and a decade have changed America’s image of itself, it seems. In 1797, under George Washington, John Adams signed a treaty with Tripoli with the following disclaimer:

    As the Government of the United States of America is not, in any sense, founded on the Christian religion, as it has in itself no character of enmity against the laws, religion, or tranquillity, of Musselmen; and as the said States never have entered into any war or act of hostility against any Mohamitan nation, it is declared by the parties concerned that no pretext arising from religious opinions shall ever produce an interruption of the harmony between the two countries.

    The words of the treaty have some relevance not only to the US invasion and occupation of Iraq but also to the campaign of three Democratic presidential candidates: Hillary Rodham Clinton, John Edwards and Barack Obama. They recently spoke about their beliefs before the Sojourners/Call to Renewal evangelical organization founded by Jim Wallis, called “liberal” by Associated Press.

    How would Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin and John Adams have felt if they were in the audience—if they would have attended at all? The reason for the question is not only that these founding fathers of the American nation were all deists, who professed belief in Nature’s God, as stated in the American Declaration of Independence: it’s that among their crowning contribution to democracy is the principle of the separation of church and state.

    But in fairness, Clinton, Edwards and Obama did not exactly turn their backs on the principle. They simply spoke of their personal beliefs.

    Hillary Clinton related to the evangelicals how her “grounding in faith” gave her the courage and the strength to do what was right regardless of what the world thought. This was obviously an allusion to her husband’s nonpenetrating sex with Monica Lewinsky, at “which moments,” she said “personal faith and the prayers of others” sustained her. There was no mention if anyone in the congregation wondered whether it was also political prudence, but you don’t argue about faith—especially if you’re evangelical.

    But Clinton also said that talking about her religious beliefs did not come naturally to her—as did Jefferson, who acknowledged privately to his friends that at bottom, he was a Christian. “I take my faith seriously and very personally, and I come from a tradition that is perhaps a little too suspicious of people who wear their faith on their sleeves.” Well spoken, but she did nevertheless.

    John Edwards, after saying that he sinned “every single day—we are all sinners and we fall short,” was asked by the moderator to name the biggest sin he had ever committed; he was loudly applauded when he answered he would have a hard time naming one thing. Was it telling lies, committing adultery, stealing, playing with himself, lusting (as Jimmy Carter said in a famous Playboy interview)? Certainly not murder or embezzlement. But if it were (just) lying, should one trust a president who lies every single day?

    What Edwards said about all of us being all sinners isn’t the point; the point is whether he would lie to the American people if he were president. In fairness to him, however, he is one with Washington in saying that the United States shouldn’t be called a Christian nation even if he himself has a deep and abiding love for my Lord, Jesus Christ.

    The closest to the spirit of the founding fathers was Barack Obama, who focused more on policy than the personal (just like John F. Kennedy when he was questioned on the influence of his Catholic background on his presidency). Asked whether he agreed with President Bush’s portrayal of the current global struggles in terms of good versus evil, Obama replied, “The danger of using good versus evil in the context of war is that [it] may lead us to be not as critical as we should about our own actions.” He believed that 9/11 was the result of evil but he also believed that US treatment of prisoners at Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo Bay is unjust. He left it to the audience to distinguish between “evil” and “unjust.”

    The E word is a favorite of Republican presidents. Reagan characterized the Soviet Union as the “evil empire,” although he may just have been thinking of Star Wars; and Bush, of course, demonized Saddam Hussein as much as he was demonized by Saddam. (It was a struggle between Satan and Satan.) The Democratic president JFK, in the bitterest confrontation with the Soviet Union, used the term “adversary.” He spoke not of godless communism but of the USSR’s drive for domination.

     

    Pistic politics

    The pistic commitment—relating or exhibiting one’s faith—is something new in American presidential politics. It began when President Bush, who was “born again,” won with the evangelist votes. That was the time too when liberal became the “L” word, meaning permissiveness and a bleeding heart for the underprivileged. It was morning in America for the “silent majority” and dusk for the noisy minority.

    The conservative “revolution” was coached in pietistic terms, as liberals became advocates for gay rights and legal abortion, and invoked freedom of speech and expression for pornography. To be for these things had undertones of irreligiousness and smacked of immorality, while cutting down on welfare and social security were signs of “godliness.”

    Books like This I Believe became best-seller precursors of ascendant religiosity. There was a time when Americans were skeptical of people who wore their faith on their sleeves, but now it’s the fashion. Pisticism has become a political force.

    The irony is that not so long ago, Barry Goldwater, the archconservative, was cited in the Congressional Record (16 Sept. 1981) for his secularist defense:

    There is no position on which people are so immovable as their religious beliefs. There is no more powerful ally one can claim in a debate than Jesus Christ, or God, or Allah, or whatever one calls this supreme being. But like any powerful weapon, the use of God’s name on one’s behalf should be used sparingly. The religious factions that are growing throughout the land are not using their religious clout with wisdom. They are trying to force government leaders into following their position 100 percent. If you disagree with these religious groups on a particular moral issue, they complain, they threaten you with loss of money or votes or both. I’m frankly sick and tired of political preachers across this country telling me as a citizen that if I want to be a moral person, I must believe in A, B, C, and D. Just who do they think they are? And from where do they presume to claim the right to dictate their moral beliefs to me? And I am even more angry as a legislator who must endure the threats of every religious group who thinks it has some God-granted right to control my vote on every roll call in the Senate. I am warning them today: I will fight them every step of the way if they try to dictate their moral convictions to all Americans in the name of conservatism.

    Goldwater lost to Lyndon Baines Johnson. He probably lost because he was too conservative, or that it wasn’t the Republicans’ turn at the White House, but undoubtedly he understood that the secular “religion” of America is democracy, the democracy which the Democrat (liberal) Franklin Delano Roosevelt succinctly summed up as Four Freedoms: of speech and expression, of worship (or not to worship), from fear and from want.

    “Just who do they think they are?” asked Goldwater. Simply: they are voters and have organized themselves—in the erstwhile New World no less, as distinct from the Old World of religious persecutions of Medieval Europe. Now, however, neither in Spain (whose king was defender of the faith), France (of the divine right of kings), Germany, Italy (site of the Vatican), there’s no evangelism as vigorous (to put it politely) as in the US, although it was the American Sinclair Lewis who wrote a blistering satire of a fictional, though familiar, preacher by the name of Elmer Gantry.

     

    Babylon by the Hudson

    For years, many Americans, not just evangelists, have been castigating their country—mainly Washington, New York and California—as the new Babylon, “the whore of the world and the abomination on earth.” What they regard as “permissiveness” got them religion; they changed churches when these did not satisfy their values, they despaired, like us, of their governments, but unlike us, they resolved to do something about it. Surely, moral beliefs have to do with one’s politics, but in this new era of evangelism, these beliefs are couched in religious terms. Because of the political force of evangelicals, Democratic and Republican leaders stand row to row in honoring Billy Graham and they face every sectarian group in their terms. It’s as much out of sincere piety as a sincere desire for votes.

    The American divide today is not between Republican-conservative-“selfishness” and Democrat-liberal-“permissiveness” since the pejorative descriptions are moveable—but between secularists and sectarians, where the former places moral and religious values in the political sphere (per Aristotle) and the latter places politics in the sphere of piety. Whatever their moral and intellectual qualities, the 991,000 agnostics composing 0.5 percent of the US population, if exposed, voluntarily or involuntarily have less chances than gays of being elected to public office. They comprise 0. 5 percent of the US population, not counting the thousands of atheists among scientists and intellectuals. 

    Sectarians practically deny the rights of a citizen because they cannot be trusted either for being uncertain that God exists or holding that He does not, although they are more moral than any number of Democrats and Republicans in office who proclaim their faith. As surveys showed, 61 percent of Republicans and 32 percent of Democrats are “unlikely to vote” for anyone who isn’t Christian in a nation which stressed on its founding that it wasn’t a Christian nation.

    In his Notes on the State of Virginia, Jefferson wrote: “It does no injury to my neighbor to say that there are twenty gods or no god. It neither picks my pocket nor breaks my leg.” Let him say that now and he’ll see how his pocket will be unpicked and how long his legs will be unbroken. He was lucky that in his time he was elected president notwithstanding the Federalists’ claim that he was an atheist. Deists, agnostics and atheists are often lumped together by “religionists.”

     

    All is not lost

    The wonderful thing about America is that like the universe, it is ever changing. It swings from left to right, right to left, until it finds the center. The experiment with Puritanism in the form of Prohibition spawned Al Capone and Elliot Ness. FDR saved American capitalism with the New Deal and Ronald Reagan, a beneficiary of the New Deal, reversed by dismantling the so-called “welfare state.” It was the Thatcherite swing in Britain and even the Scandinavian countries—Sweden, Myrdal’s welfare-state model—that followed suit, and finally, the Philippines, whose recent presidents have complained that people depended too much on government, as if government was ever dependable. (It is, though, if you ask the right people.)

    The present divide between secularists and sectarians in America, if ever recurring, is not permanent.

    But why are we concerned? It’s because America is in our hearts.        

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    THREE centuries and a decade have changed America’s image of itself, it seems. In 1797, under George Washington, John Adams signed a treaty with Tripoli with the following disclaimer:

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