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British liberal of a century ago said that no society can call itself
a good society unless it takes care
of
its most vulnerable members. But this was not true of Athens, let
alone Sparta, or even ancient Rome — societies long thought
to be better than "good," i.e., classical and worthy of emulation.
The standard that T. H. Green wrote of and called "liberal" is,
in fact, Jewish and Christian, and goes back at least as far as
the Book of Deuteronomy. Its source is not reason but revelation.
A good society must care for its widows, its orphans, and the very
poor.
So secretly, Jewish and Christian are most of our secularists today
who love the poor, preach compassion, praise solidarity, and all
the rest — as Albert Camus once put it — that all they
lack is churchgoing to distinguish them from being men and women
of faith.
Compassion as a social norm was born from faith. So also, although
liberals seldom admit it, was a key dimension of secular liberalism.
America, too, was born from faith. ("With a firm reliance on divine
Providence.") All these are reasons why Compassionate Conservatism
and faith-based initiatives are about to sweep the land: They belong
to the American story as much as the abolitionists and civil-rights
campaigners. America itself has been a faith-based initiative from
the beginning.
Many years ago, in 1974, Richard John Neuhaus and Peter Berger published
a little manifesto, To Empower the People, noting that the
two principal categories of social science — the individual
and the state — omitted the central institutions of civil society,
all those mediating institutions that function as the thick social
web of everyday life, from the family to the church, from labor
unions and corporations to voluntary organizations and committees
of a gazillion types. All these are more than the individual, social,
but not part of the state; all are in their way liberating and enabling.
Tocqueville observed that associations are the chief secret to American
life, the greatest advantage America had over Europe, and the first
condition for democratic flourishing. Where there are no associations,
he intimated, there is only a mob, in search of a tyrant.
Neuhaus and Berger pointed out how so many initiatives of the federal
government since 1933, and even more since 1965, were suffocating
the natural life of mediating institutions, and thereby weakening
the prospects of democracy. The proposed a minimalist strategy
and a maximalist strategy for reversing this damage.
The minimalist strategy consisted of (a) examining all those rules
and regulations of government that injure mediating institutions,
in order to eliminate them so that, at least, government "should
do no harm"; and (b) inviting mediating institutions to compete,
on a fair basis, with government programs, according to a pragmatic
test: Which programs actually get the job done better?
It is clear already that this is the strategy the Bush II administration
has adopted for its faith-based initiatives.
Here's the deal. All across America from prison fellowships to soup
kitchens, from crisis-pregnancy centers
| “The
government needs these services done, because the most
vulnerable people need them.” |
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to learning-to-read programs, from counseling of addicts to sheltering
the homeless, church people are offering crucial services that are
of great importance to the government, because they help the government
to acquit some portion of its welfare duties. The government needs
these services done, because the most vulnerable people need them.
Religious people for their own reasons and in their own way, want
to do more of these things. Therefore, it makes sense for government
to purchase certain services from these providers, among other providers,
based on competitive principles and proven pragmatic results.
President Bush is very clear about Joseph Jacobs's distinction between
true compassion and false compassion (in Jacobs's book of several
years ago,
The Compassionate Conservative). False compassion is
concern about the subject of compassion, one's own feeling of compassion,
one's own sensitivity. True compassion is concern for results —
concentration on what happens to the others, the objects of compassion.
One is self-centered, the second is other-centered. One is oriented
to feeling good about oneself, the second is oriented to results.
As President Bush told the 49th Annual Prayer Breakfast on Feb.
1, "My concern is, What works." He drew the loudest and most sustained
response by announcing — I paraphrase — I want the government
to stop discriminating against faith-based services, and allow them
to compete with other providers, on the basis of results.
Some background may be useful. Perhaps not many, but at least some
government programs for the needy are not able to produce change
in self-destructive behaviors among recipients. Maybe government
workers are not even allowed to ask questions about, or to get into,
matters like that. Some programs, therefore, are run rather more
like warehouses. They keep people clean, feed them, house them.
All these are good things. But they are also performed by farmers
for animals. What is distinctly human is an address to the human
heart and conscience.
One thing Judaism and Christianity (and other religions) are good
at: They address the wayward heart and restive conscience. America
is a nation of at least three Great Awakenings, the first leading
to Declarations of Rights against tyranny, the second to the abolition
of slavery, the third to the Progressive Urban Reforms of the early
twentieth century. But it is also a nation of scores of millions
of personal awakenings, turnings away from destructive habits, experiences
of "being reborn," and starting over.
Thus it happens with some regularity among us that alcoholics overthrow
bad habits, drug addicts turn away from their addictions, thieves
and violent felons gain insight into the inner wounds that led them
into crime, and so learn how to heal and start anew. Success rates
among faith-based service groups in some fields compare favorably
to those by secular practitioners. In other areas, those who have
the enablings that flow from faith succeed at rates far beyond those
deprived of it.
And why not? Faith highly personalizes the issue of good vs. bad
behavior. Human acts are not merely a matter of obeying or disobeying
rules, but of offending a Person Whom one loves — one's God
and Guide. Faith adds many new motives for changing the way one
lives, beyond those of reason only.
The maximalist strategy that Neuhaus and Berger sketch involves
a much thicker interaction of government with mediating institutions,
creating mutual dependencies. Here lie most of the concerns of those
who worry that government will corrupt religion, and religion contaminate
government.
The Bush program is far more chaste, minimalist, clean. The new
administration is saying: Government will stop harming the mediating
institutions of America, whether secular or faith-based. We will
stop discriminating against the faith-based programs. We will invite
all sorts of mediating communities to step forward with compassion
for all the needy among us, and prove their mettle by showing good
results. In return, where appropriate, government will purchase
from them any services that they provide better than their competitors,
and/or will open the way for a greater flow of tax-deductible contributions
to their good works.
None of this will interrupt the government's own lawful and obligatory
welfare programs, but only enhance and extend them. All of it will
help to change our culture, making it a culture of life and love,
a culture of compassion and generosity and public spirit. Making
it a city on a hill.
Freedom is made perfect in giving unto others.
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