The oldest question in moral philosophy is, Why be moral? Why bother, when the rewards of the unethical life can seem so alluring?
The oldest answer to that question — easily predating the Greek philosophers — is, Because that’s what God wants. Morality and religion, in other words, have been intertwined from the beginning.
For many people, that old answer — while not the only answer — is still powerful. Given that fact, what are we to make of the enormous religious issues bubbling to the surface around the world — Islamic fundamentalism, crackdowns on churches in China, even the role of U.S. congregations in the presidential election?
You have only to read nineteenth-century history and literature to realize that religion was, until rather recently, a constant presence in the political and social life of developed nations. That doesn’t mean it was deeply practiced or well understood, or even that its impact was uniformly positive. But religious institutions were an unquestioned part of the moral life of nations, honored and respected and (by today’s standards) widely attended.
But in the twentieth century, the long, slow disenchantment with religious institutions set in. As that process unfolded, two things became clear: We couldn’t do without ethics, but we couldn’t impose a religious rationale for ethics on our secular cultures. And so the search intensified for other answers to that oldest question.
By the final decades of the twentieth century, a new phenomenon had arisen: the growth of secular nonprofit entities (like this one) devoted to research and education in ethics. Such entities are united, consciously or unconsciously, in a common purpose: to articulate powerful but not-necessarily-religious answers to that old question. Important though that work is, it shouldn’t lead us to overlook a salient fact: Morality is still all about God for many people.
How many? In the United States, according to the Gallup Organization, 85 percent still say religion is “very important” or “somewhat important.” Asked another way, 90 percent of those polled by Gallup in 2003 said they believed in God or a universal spirit — down from 99 percent in 1952, but still extraordinarily high by European standards. That same question, asked by Gallup in Britain, drew a response of only 54 percent — down from 84 percent in 1947.
But believing in God is one thing. Giving institutional expression to that belief through organized religion is something else. In recent years, Americans’ confidence in organized religion has been deeply undermined. As the scandals in the Catholic Church hit home in 2002, only 45 percent of the U.S. public said they had “a great deal” or “quite a lot” of confidence in “the church or organized religion” — down from 60 percent just a year earlier. Yet similar data from Europe makes the United States look like a paragon of trustfulness. A recent Eurobarometer survey, asking whether respondents “tend to trust” religious institutions, found that Britain, France, and western Germany had significantly lower trust levels than the United States had at its lowest ebb.
What’s the significance of these findings for our ethical life? Three things stand out:
First, given the long intertwining of ethics and religion, we shouldn’t be surprised to find those who profess to believe in ethical principles but don’t put them into action; in religion, too, there are far more believers than doers. So we should temper our astonishment at the moral hypocrisy of those who sign on loudly to codes of ethics and then violate them with apparent relish. Sadly, it has been ever thus.
Second and more important, if the only arguments for ethics were the religious ones, we would expect to see the highest ethical standards in nations where trust in religious institutions is high. There’s little evidence of that. The fact is that cultures can be irreligious and ethical at the same time. Conversely, they can be marinated in religious expression and still behave unethically. Again, history provides plenty of examples of zealotry and fundamentalism running off the moral rails.
Third and most important, the disenchantment with religious institutions runs as a counterpoint to the increased need for setting firmer distinctions between church and state. The ferment in the Muslim world reminds us that religion and politics are uneasy bedfellows, and that democracy simply doesn’t mix well with theocracy. The crackdowns in China, at the other extreme, remind us that when organized religions are seen as competing with governments, the state can lash back with draconian potency.
There’s a lesson here for the U.S. presidential election. As organized religion sails closer to campaign politics, it moves into dangerous ethical waters. The U.S. public, with a majority believing strongly in God, has waning confidence in institutional religion. It also has increasing distaste for theocracy, so when religion is suspected of operating in the same competitive arena as government, the reaction will be to protect the constitutional separation of church and state.
Does that separation doom us to unethical governments? Not at all. Ethics draws mightily from the best of religious traditions, but it does not absolutely require them. Separating church from state, we need not separate ethics from government.
©2004 Institute for Global Ethics