Equality and Democracy

In this election year, we should remember the long struggle for equality that lies at the heart of democratic government.

In 1776 the American colonists rejected the uncalled for imposition of British laws and taxes upon them. They declared the equality of all men, and demanded the freedom to govern themselves. Being told what to do by King George and his Parliament from across the Atlantic Ocean, especially in the light of the sacrifices their forebears had made, was intolerable. The constitution of the new United States of America which they agreed opened with the phrase, “We the People”. Its aim was to create a democratic government that guaranteed freedom from oppression and reflected the principle of equal rights for all.

At about the same time, French citizens, inspired by the same ideals, declared that “men are born and remain free and equal in rights”. They too wanted to overthrow what they saw as an oppressive and autocratic government.

Both declarations are valued today as foundational statements of political life, not only in the USA and France, but also in democracies throughout the world.

What equality means, why it is important, who it applies to and how it should be exercised have been debated and fought over throughout human history. It has taken many generations for countries that claimed to be democratic to allow all their citizens, male and female, rich and poor, to have an equal say in who exercised authority over them.

Political equality usually means every adult citizen having the right to vote for those who govern them. However, the ability to vote in itself, if it is to be meaningful, requires the possibility for open debate and access to adequate and accurate information, among other things. There also needs to be safeguards in place for those who do not get who they vote for. Genuine equality involves other rights and freedoms too, such as the right for equal treatment under the law, the right to education and freedom of expression.

Underlying all these is the need for at least some measure of economic equality. Differences in wealth and income inevitably distort people’s ability to participate in society, and the greater these differences are, the less meaningful is the whole notion of equality.

The equality which American colonists and French citizens demanded, and which lies at the heart of democratic government, is hard to pin down, and can probably never be fully achieved in practice. The idea of global equality is almost impossible to imagine. But the principle behind it is one that should never be forgotten. The belief that every person, whoever they are, is equally valuable and deserves respect and dignity, is crucial.

Where this belief comes from, and why it is important, is also vitally important. From a Christian point of view, the only reliable basis for true equality is the existence of a God from whom this belief comes. God’s love and attention for each person are the only secure foundation for a true understanding of what equality means and why it is important.

As we, through the votes we cast, seek to build a good society and a better world, may we recognise that equality is not just a political or theoretical idea, but a principle whose origin is far more profound than anything we can think up for ourselves.

Goodness Matters

Retailers have recently reported a sudden and alarming rise in theft. Sometimes, they say, it looks more like looting than shoplifting. Groups or individuals are grabbing merchandise from the shelves, mostly to be sold later, sometimes just down the street, seemingly unconcerned about getting caught and prosecuted. Staff are advised not to intervene because of the threat to their own personal safety and the police are slow to respond, so the risk to the thieves is small. For some businesses, the losses are substantial enough to threaten their survival.

Perhaps, sometimes, the driver for such criminal behaviour is poverty, but I doubt if this is the main one. Most of the thieves just see an opportunity to make easy money, selfishly careless of the damage caused by what they do.

There are other examples of unscrupulous individuals profiting from criminal activity, but shops are a central and public part of all our lives, and this trend highlights with particular openness a problem we are facing. It is not as if the thieves can hide behind the web, or the mysterious machinations of big finance. Although the issue may not be as big as others we face, there is something especially blatant and shameless about it.

At its heart, the challenge is a moral one. Offenses like this are a reminder that without a generally accepted sense of right and wrong, society cannot effectively function. The criminal justice system is obviously important, expressing in legal terms what our nation believes to be unacceptable behaviour, but to be effective, it relies on most people believing that behaving well matters. At the end of the day, respect and honesty depend more on internal motivation than on the threat of punishment.

Fortunately, most people do have a sense of what is right and wrong and do seek to live by it. But the growing spate of shoplifting is a sign that morality as a guide to life is under threat. Things are not as they should be, and perhaps they are getting worse. Other signs include various kinds of criminal activity and anti-social behaviour which are on the increase: fraud and abusive language for example. But also the fear and suspicion that is becoming so widespread. Many people seem to have lost a sense that honesty and kindness are necessary foundations for their own lives; even more seem to have lost confidence in the honesty and kindness of others.

No doubt today is not the only time this has been the case. But there is a particular challenge now for us in the UK. Two factors are worth thinking about. One is the decline of religious observance in the UK. Historically, religious belief and practice have shaped attitudes and behaviour almost everywhere, even when Governments have officially been secular. This has often been for good, occasionally for bad. One thing this provides is the acceptance of an authority beyond and above any that humanity, acting in its own self-interest, can provide. Even in an increasingly non-religious country like the UK, Christianity has until quite recently provided a framework for good behaviour. But this is less and less the case today, not because of the presence of other belief systems, but because of the assumption by many that God is an irrelevance.

A second factor is the moral vacuum in leadership that has been a feature of recent political life, both in the UK and the USA. There have always been political scoundrels, and no political figure is beyond reproach, but when leaders demonstrate an apparently total disregard for what is true, it is no surprise that this has a corrosive effect on attitudes more widely. The message is clear: the end justifies the means; getting what you want is more important than how you go about it. Maybe the reason why such leaders are elected reflects a general lack of interest in both morality and politics.

Whatever the underlying trends and causes may be, it is vital to recognise that goodness matters. Without an underlying code of morality, and a commitment to uphold it, no country can prosper.

Politics Matters

Cynicism about politics is worryingly popular. If political affairs crop up in conversation, a common retort is that you can’t believe anything politicians say. Trust in the whole political process is at a low ebb, the assumption often being that those who seek election are either incompetent, or in it for what they can personally get out of it. Even those who start out with good motives are soon likely to be forced to compromise, their integrity challenged by the system in which they find themselves.

Another complaint is that my opinions don’t count anyway. The jostling for power that goes on appears to have little to do with what I may want or need. “They are all the same” goes the cry. Many question whether voting make any difference at all, and so don’t consider it a worth while thing to do. Complacency reinforces this, as if life is going to carry on much as it always has, regardless of who is in power, what’s the point of bothering?

Some wariness towards those who hold political office is healthy, but a deep-seated disdain for politics, or disinterest in it, is dangerous. It leads to a detachment from public life, or, insofar as opinions are expressed, to a negative spirit of criticism and condemnation.

Politics is how collective decisions are made, and if respect and participation in that process is lost, social cohesion is bound to crumble and democracy itself struggle to survive. Democratic government is fragile, and should not be taken for granted. It needs to be defended against the forces that threaten it. In many parts of the world, disillusionment with democracy is growing and authoritarian ways of doing politics are becoming more popular, with all the risks that entails.

It is important to recognize some of the reasons for this disillusionment. In a fast moving world, democracy acts frustratingly slowly, and sometimes wastefully. National governments inevitably struggle to tackle huge and complex challenges that are global in character. The many sources of news and information available these days mean that the truth is hard to find. The intrusive scrutiny and hostility everyone in public life has to endure puts off many decent people from entering politics.

All of which makes the defence of democracy even more important. At the heart of this defence is the principle that politics matters. The way collective decisions are made and implemented is important, because, in the end, it affects the lives of everyone.

At the heart of this defence should be a greater emphasis on political education at school, clear standards of integrity demanded of all those who enter the profession of politics and decision making being kept at as local a level as possible. Cynicism and complacency are corrosive, and we all suffer if they dominate our public life.

Avoiding War

Throughout history, war has been a common feature of relations between peoples and nations. When diplomacy and negotiation have proved ineffective, or as not even worth trying, then the use of force has often been resorted to. It is a sad reflection of who we are as human beings that waging war has been seen as a natural extension of political engagement.

The First World War, involving the mobilization of national resources on an unprecedented scale, was the first war to be truly global in scope, made possible by industrial and technological advances. The Second World War was in some respects a continuation of the first, fueled by weapons of even greater destructive power.

Since 1945, the human capacity for killing and destruction has grown to such an extent that the leaders of the world’s great powers have avoided all-out war. This is not because international tensions and disagreements have disappeared, nor is it because peaceful diplomacy has eradicated the need for war, but mainly because of the terrifying power of modern weaponry.

In spite of the dangers involved, war on a global scale today is not only possible, but likely. The proliferation of nuclear and other weapons of mass destruction to more countries increases the risk of this happening. The increasingly fragile relationships between Russia, China and the West, alongside the internal economic and political stresses each of them are facing, provide an ideal recipe for armed conflict.

Looking back to the world wars of the twentieth century, competition for global dominance among the world’s leading military and economic nations was one major cause. The ideological differences between the nations drawn into armed conflict, and a desire to defend what was seen as the nation’s honour and freedom, were also important. No doubt internal political pressures had a part to play as well.

There are similar, and in many respects even greater pressures and differences at work now. The war in Ukraine and war-mongering in the seas around Taiwan illustrate the dangers these pose. Ideological political differences between, for example, China and the USA seem irreconcilable. Nationalism is once again on the rise. Underlying all this is a widespread anxiety about the future of the planet and a loss of confidence in the ability of national Governments, particularly democratic ones, to respond effectively to the global challenges they face.

It is possible that in the future we will continue to face a series of limited conflicts, in which the world’s leading military powers get involved at arm’s length, supplying conventional weapons. Or that the war we could face will be an electronic one, aimed at eliminating an enemy’s ability to resist, or even to function. Such a conflict could be just as destructive as a conventional one. A devastating exchange involving nuclear and other weapons of mass destruction, perhaps the consequence of an error, is also a real possibility. We should, of course, do all we can to avoid any of these possibilities.

We would all wish for a world without the fearsome weapons now at our disposal, but that is not a realistic prospect, as the knowledge of how to make them can never be unknown. Neither are the ideological and national differences that divide us likely to disappear.

There are many possible personal steps we can take to build better relationships with others. On the broader political scale, we must encourage the pursuit of every opportunity to develop and strengthen international institutions that can resolve those differences that threaten conflict. Such institutions need to be well resourced and to carry wide respect. Whether we like it or not, we are now interconnected across the globe, and our mechanisms for making decisions must reflect that. The United Nations is the leading contender, but it was designed in very different circumstances and probably needs constitutional reform.

We need to press our Government to recognize that decisions made on a narrow, national basis are no longer sufficient to meet the challenges we face. Such decisions will not only be ineffective in confronting climate change and the threat of war, but may actually make things worse. Decisions made on an international basis will inevitably to some degree mean a loss of national sovereignty (whatever that means), but not doing so will result in far worse outcomes.

Believing in God

According to a recent survey, less than half of the British population now claim to believe in a god, a supreme deity or any kind of higher spiritual power.

It is difficult to gauge the significance of such a survey. Religion and spirituality are complicated and deeply personal issues and they can provoke a wide range of emotional responses. People’s understanding of terms like “god” and “higher spiritual power”, and their response to personal questions about them are bound to vary enormously. And what does “belief” mean anyway?

The implication is that religious belief has declined. But it has always been hard to identify and measure such belief, and it is only in fairly recent times that it has become widely acceptable for people to say they have none. To be thought of as a religious person today is often rejected because it is unfashionable, or because it is associated with irrational or extreme behaviour. As a regular church-goer and having spent most of my working life as a full-time minister, I too am uncomfortable about being thought of as “religious”, given the way the term is usually used and understood.

Both the existence and the character of God (or gods) have been debated frequently. In the end, neither are readily accessible to scientific enquiry of the kind that is so central to the search for truth in the modern world. The very idea of existence, if applied to a being outside of space and time, is problematic.

Whether we accept the reality of God or not depends on several things, including intellectual reasoning, cultural background and individual experience. But ultimately, it is a personal choice, even if the choice sometimes feels as if it has been made by others on my behalf. The choice is between accepting God, rejecting God, or choosing not to make a decision one way or the other. To put it crudely (there are, of course, many different forms of religious belief) we are all either believers, non-believers or agnostics. The obvious difficulty for agnostics is that, barring strange philosophical concepts that allow both existence and non-existence at the same time, either there is a God or there isn’t.

To believe or not to believe? Like most personal decisions, it is more than just a question of formal intellectual assent to a creed. To believe in God is to make a commitment to God, in some ways like getting married or accepting a job offer. It is to make a deliberate choice to live on the basis that there is a God. Some believers say that it is up to God to decide who believes and who doesn’t. That may be true, but from our point of view we still need to address the question, and it feels like a decision we have to make.

The fact that many educated and rational people believe in God suggests that accepting God is at least a reasonable thing to do. For Christians, the life and impact of Jesus Christ provide crucial evidence for that. Personal background and life experiences are also important in giving rise to belief. For many, the conviction that a world without God is not only inconceivable, but also intolerable, is also important. God as the source of goodness, beauty and meaning provides such vital qualities with a secure foundation. If we, as human beings, can alone define what is good, beautiful or significant, their meaning is subject to the changing fashions and circumstances of history. The choice to believe in God is in part a refusal to accept such fragile foundations for the things that matter most of all.

Believing in a God is one thing. What kind of God is another, and for Christians that’s where Jesus Christ comes in. Accepting the God of Jesus makes that God real. Acceptance of that God is a recognition that God has accepted me. On that basis I allow him a central place in my life. It is a choice that needs to be renewed day by day, a choice that enriches life and provides a sense of security in a world that seems increasingly bewildering and uncertain.

If most people, in answer to a survey, say they do not believe in any kind of God, perhaps part of the reason is because they have only a vague idea of what is meant by belief, and what is meant by God.

The Limitations of Science

The pandemic has taught us we need to “follow the science”. How thankful we are for science’s insights and power, increasing our understanding of the world through systematic observation, measuring and experimentation. The benefits for us all are immense. So much so that its limitations can easily be overlooked.

The feelings that motivate and shape most human behaviour, such as love, hate, courage, guilt, fear and wonder are not easily accessible to science. Such scientific explanations that are forthcoming are often expressed in evolutionary terms, claiming that such feelings have developed as subjective emotions so that our species can survive and prosper. Such explanations do not allow these feelings or the intellectual concepts they represent to have any objective identity in their own right.

Take, for example, a glorious sunset or the wild roar of a stormy night. In purely scientific terms, both they and our feelings about them are purely a matter of physics, chemistry and biology. We may be inspired to write music or paint pictures about them, but to think they have any inherent beauty or magnificence in themselves is nonsense. Were we not there to observe and hear them, the notions of beauty, glory and wildness would have no meaning at all.

Considered in this materialistic, scientific light, the same could be said about justice and goodness. It is only because we, as humans, give such abstract ideas reality by inventing and naming them, that they exist at all. We do so because we need them to guide our behaviour and make life tolerable. Humanism, at least in the way it is often understood today, claims that our human ability to create and develop them, and to persuade each other to respect them, is the only source of their significance or authority.

This proposition strikes me as both unconvincing and dismal. Anything that today we decide to call good (or bad) can equally well be dismissed as bad (or good) tomorrow. We are quite capable of building regimes founded on racist, nationalist and imperialist ideologies, proudly advancing them by means of violence and cruelty, and there is no reason why we could not do so again. In human hands, the notions of justice and goodness are flexible. The claim that reason and science provide a secure and reliable foundation for them is an empty one, for they lie beyond the scope of either.

As both science and philosophy continue to explore the profound questions of existence and life, the answers seem as illusive as ever. The nature of space and time, the uncertainties that lie at the heart of matter at the quantum level, the existence of dark matter and dark energy, the origin and destiny of the universe, why the fundamental laws of physics take the character they do, what it means to be self-conscious – such questions occupy the best minds in our world, but as soon as moments of clarity emerge they lead to further uncertainties and conundrums.

Understanding the most fundamental issues we face about ourselves and the universe we inhabit – even knowing what the right questions should be – seems to be beyond us. Perhaps this is the way it should be. Who are we to think we are capable of such knowledge?

What we need is humility in the face of our obvious limitations. We may be tempted to think that we are on our way to mastering ourselves and our environment, but the truth is that, in spite of the great technological strides we have made, we are no closer to discovering the fundamental truths of what it means to exist and be human than our ancestors were.

Throughout human history, people have looked to religious faith for help, not so much to understand the world as to cope with living in it well. This is not to abandon reason but to accept our limitations, and to acknowledge our need for a secure and meaningful foundation for life. Intellectually, it is possible that we live in a meaningless universe where supposedly grand concepts such as beauty and justice are merely passing fancies we invent for ourselves. On the other hand, it is possible that the yearning we have for purpose and meaning is pointing us towards a more reliable foundation for existence and morality, one which by its very nature is inaccessible to intellectual investigation or proof. When Jesus Christ called people to recognize that the Kingdom of God had come near, this latter possibility was what he was talking about.

Defending Democracy in an Interconnected World

Autocrats in China, Russia and Iran, and doubtless in other places too, look at what has been going on in the USA with Donald Trump, and declare through their state controlled media that there is something rotten about Western democracy. And they have a point. They draw attention, with a sense of smug satisfaction, to other events too, not least in the UK, which offer further opportunities for criticism. The response to the coronavirus pandemic reveals, they say, weaknesses in countries that put a high value on democracy and personal freedom, and therefore struggle to act effectively. The confusion and uncertainty over Brexit provides them with another example.

Parliamentary democracies with competitive elections every four or five years are by their very nature ill equipped to tackle global emergencies that demand decisive and united action. Such emergencies are likely to multiply in the future. The most dangerous threat is climate change. Other recent events have demonstrated the inadequacy of merely national solutions, including the financial crash of 2008, large scale movements of refugees and, of course, the 2020 pandemic.

Globalization is not the only present challenge to democracy, but it is a major one. As the inability of individual States to control the life experiences of their citizens has become more apparent, anxiety has increased and confidence in democratically elected politicians and previously respected institutions has fallen. Disgruntled electors look for someone to take back control. Arguably, both Brexit and the Trump phenomenon are at least partly a consequence of this.

Global interconnectedness is here to stay. So what should be done? Can democratic government survive? Essentially, it is a question of political priorities. Solutions, if they are to be found at all, depend on recognizing that significant changes, not least in political culture, need to be made. To regain confidence in our ability to make collective decisions peacefully, we need to look at what democracy means with fresh eyes. If the greatest challenges we face are global, so any effective response must also be global. Politics, and with it democracy, if the latter is to survive at all, must have a global dimension.

This is not to say that politics at a more local level is no longer important. Quite the opposite in fact. In an increasingly interconnected world, participation and a sense of belonging at a local level are more crucial than ever. But the global dimension of political activity must also be recognized as vital, and its democratic credentials strengthened.

In the years following the First World War, the League of Nations failed to prevent the second one, largely because it was ignored, or at least inadequately supported, by several of the world’s most powerful nations. They preferred to pursue their own national interests.

The United Nations has taken up the baton of the League of Nations. The UN and its related organizations are not perfect, but if another disaster, even more destructive than the Second World War, is to be averted, countries like the UK must show their support for it. We need to strengthen its democratic credentials, even to the extent of sometimes foregoing our own limited national interests.

The future health of democratic government depends on reliable information being freely available to its electorate. With the arrival of the world wide web this is now as much a global issue as a national one. Anyone seeking to control the information people receive, or to shape public opinion, now has an immensely powerful tool at their disposal, and one not limited by national boundaries.

Freedom of information, opinion and belief has always been a mainstay of democratic government, but this has never been an unlimited right. Regulation is necessary to prevent the publication of material that is misleading, untrue or dangerous. There is now an urgent need to find ways of regulating the new media, so that serious harm to freedom and democracy, whether the result of malice or ignorance, can be prevented.

Inequality of wealth and income, and therefore of opportunity, is another threat. Genuine democracy cannot exist if large numbers of people are excluded from having any influence over decisions that profoundly affect their lives. This too is an international as well as a national problem. National governments can and should take steps, primarily through the tax system, to alleviate inequality. They also have a responsibility to address global exclusion.

No-one, wherever they live and work, should be the victim of decisions being made by others who do not care about their welfare, and who have no interest in meeting their needs. Where this is widespread, democracy cannot thrive, or even survive at all, because less affluent nations, like poorer communities within nations, will quickly lose faith in it. If trust in democracy is lost, in the end, everyone suffers.

The peoples and nations of the world are now inseparably bound together. We need to address the challenges to which this gives rise. Those who we elect to represent us and who exercise political leadership have an urgent responsibility to do so. Otherwise, the leaders of undemocratic countries will continue to rub their hands together, their influence will continue to grow and the principle of democratic government will seem more and more irrelevant.

Old Year, New Year

It always cheers me up when we get past the shortest day of the year. The sun slowly begins to renew its strength and the days start to lengthen. Winter may not be over – by some reckoning it’s only just beginning – but signs of hope are in the air. And in the ground too, as green shoots emerge from buried bulbs.

As the winter solstice passes, our calendars tell us that the old year is passing and a new year is dawning. There is nothing inevitable about the start of a year occurring just then, and the tradition of marking it at different times exists in other cultures. But throughout the world, 2021 conventionally takes over from 2020. The gloomy experience of Covid-19 and the hope of a vaccine, not to mention the final break with the European Union, make the transition seem particularly significant this year for the UK.

For most of us, the move from one year to the next at midnight on December 31^st is much more than just the change of one digit in the numbering of years, or the appearance of a new calendar on the kitchen wall. It is a moment to reflect on the events and experiences of the past year, with a mixture of emotions. The ongoing march of the years reminds us that we part of human history. A new year also points us towards the future. A blank page, full of possibilities, lies before us. Anxieties and hopes mingle. Resolutions are made, normally, it must be admitted, quickly to be broken.

The New Year draws people together. As the earth reaches this particular stage in its orbit around the sun, the whole of humanity shares, over one twenty-four hour period, this symbol of time passing. Around the world, people gather together, setting off fireworks, joining hands, taking “a cup of kindness”, singing Auld Lang Syne and wishing each other a “happy New Year” – in non-pandemic years, at least.

There is, however, also something melancholy about the occasion. Perhaps it derives from a sense of loss. A whole year, with all its ups and downs, has gone forever. It reminds us of our mortality, and that, sooner or later, all things must pass. That may be the reason why New Year’s Eve is often obscured behind an alcoholic haze. Nature continues to take its inevitable course, mindless of us, our calendars and our traditions. We are caught up in it, with no way of escape.

Can it really be, though, that the earth’s cycle around the sun is nothing more than the inevitable and meaningless consequence of the fixed laws of nature? That all our feelings of joy and sorrow, all our hopes and dreams, will, like us, quickly vanish into a dark empty nothing? That our sense of community, and our love for those dearest to us, are only mechanisms to help our species survive a little longer?

As 2021 embarks on its way, our hopes for the future can be be founded on more than such empty, fatalistic considerations. We can reject the notion that we are no more than random life forms existing on the surface of a planet spinning around a star in the vastness of space, trying vainly to create a structure and meaning for ourselves with our measures of months and years. Our hopes can rest in the reality of God, the source of all meaning. Our lives, like our earthly home and the universe in which it is set, can be seen as God’s gifts to be valued and cherished. The choice of December 25^th as the day to remember the birth of Jesus Christ, and the following twelve days of Christmas that embrace the start of the new year, may in many respects be an arbitrary one, but if we pay attention, it will enable us to have confidence and hope for 2021, or any other year.

Hope for gloomy times

The decision to put the Royal Navy on standby to repel French fishermen illustrates just how depressing things have become. The possibility of a deal with Europe still exists, just, but whether or not it materialises, it is clear that our Government is ready to accept economic disaster and decades of mistrust between us and our closest neighbours, not to mention the threat of the break-up of the UK itself, in the interests of a theoretical and impracticable sovereignty.

A different kind of crisis has been unfolding across the Atlantic. President Trump has been doing his best to undermine democracy and to sow seeds of animosity and mistrust. The UK and the USA are both looking like examples of the failure of democratic government, much to the comfort and amusement of its enemies. Political leaders, indeed the whole process of government, are viewed with scepticism. Political debate is soured by insults and acrimonious rhetoric, and trust is undermined by empty promises.

Ambition for power has always cast a shadow over politics, but the challenges we face today are particularly ominous. The widespread anxiety and uncertainty caused by the pandemic make them worse, providing a gloomy back-drop to it all.

How should we understand what is going on? The tendency of social media to exacerbate division and to make respectful, reasoned debate more difficult is one factor. Another is globalisation, leading to a sense that national freedom and independence are being lost. Yet another is the failure of political leadership to demonstrate courage and integrity when difficult decisions have to be made.

Underlying all these factors is a deep and widespread pessimism, in the West at least, about the future of the planet. As global population rises, alongside its ever more sophisticated ability to exploit the earth’s resources, a climate and environmental catastrophe looms. Traditional politics, based on the nation State, appears incapable of rising to the challenge. Alvin Toffler’s book Future Shock warned of the distress caused by rapid social and technological change 50 years ago. Its warning is much more critical now.

How can democracy survive these challenges? It is a task for us all, whether we hold political power or not. It is important not to be intimidated by the siren and often passionate voices proclaiming that there are easy answers to profound and complex problems. This is not a time for slogan politics. Demonizing those we disagree with, however provocative they may be, is not likely to help. Addressing the issues we face thoughtfully and honestly is an important starting point, and those who do so need to be encouraged. We all have opinions and convictions, and we must find ways of expressing them, and also to listen respectfully to those held by others, for none of us has a monopoly of truth.

In the end, cheerfulness and kindness are probably more powerful than we imagine. And for those of us who believe that prayer makes a difference, we need to make our prayers for those in positions of power and influence a priority. We confront real dangers in the months and years to come. How it will all turn out is far from certain. Ultimately, our hope rests not in fallible political leadership, nor in the ability of humanity to solve the problems it faces, but in God, who in Bethlehem’s stable has brought us a light that will never be extinguished, however deep the darkness.

“Honour the Emperor”

In his letter to the Romans in the New Testament, Paul tells his readers to obey those in political power because they are servants of God. In a similar vein, Peter says in his first letter that believers should submit to the Emperor and the Governors because they were appointed by the Lord. There is an echo of the words of Jesus at his trial before Pilate that the Governor’s authority over Jesus was given to him by God.

These are remarkable statements, given that at the time believers faced discrimination and sometimes cruel persecution at the hands of the Roman authorities. The followers of Jesus rejected the idolatry and violence that was central to the culture of Rome, but they were nevertheless urged to honour its rulers. Understandably, they did not want to be seen as rebels. They trod a narrow and dangerous path, as there were definite limits to their obedience when the authorities’ demands contradicted their Christian convictions.

In principle, the same guidance applies to us, but our circumstances are complicated by the fact that we live in a democracy. Followers of Jesus are duty bound to obey the law and respect political authorities, unless to do so means failing in their commitment to him. In practice, however, it is not always easy to decide when this line has been crossed. Sincere Christians have often disagreed about it. Ever since New Testament times, when believers struggled with difficult decisions relating to idolatry, marriage and slavery, dilemmas have confronted those who have sought to be both loyal citizens and faithful followers of Jesus.

When Jesus was confronted with the thorny issue of whether to pay Roman taxes, he said that the Emperor should be paid what belongs to the Emperor, and God should be paid what belongs to God. This was an astute way of avoiding the trap set by his opponents, and also an indirect but clear endorsement that such taxes should be paid. Paul also urged his readers to do the same. Deciding just what belongs to the Emperor and what belongs to God, however, remains for each generation of believers, and each individual Christian, to resolve for themselves.

The New Testament was written when Christians, along with everyone else, had no say whatever in who would govern them. Democracy, of the kind we are familiar with, would have been inconceivable. Honouring those who govern us, when we have shared in the process of choosing them, raises a new set of issues for us to think about.

As well as the responsibility to submit and obey, honouring a democratically chosen Government inescapably also involves honouring the means by which it is elected. Christians, like everyone else, are no longer passive subjects of an imposed system of political control. We are active participants in that system. As such, we should exercise that responsibility thoughtfully and prayerfully, not only by voting, which is but one part of the democratic process, but also by our prayers, by making our views known and, for some, by active political involvement.

Honouring the government and loving our neighbour means we have a responsibility to value and uphold the processes and institutions that make true democracy possible. Government by the people, which is literally what democracy means, is fragile. It depends, among other things, on a properly informed and engaged electorate, the fair administration of justice, proper law-making procedures in Parliament and a Civil Service free of corruption. If we are to take the Bible’s teaching seriously, we have to recognize the importance of these things too.

The acceptance of democratic government has taken many centuries to achieve. It reflects the principle that every person has equal value, which in turn reflects the teaching of the New Testament. In the face of widespread mistrust and cynicism, it is especially important that we play our part in ensuring it survives and prospers. Major reforms may well be necessary to make democracy work effectively in a rapidly changing world, but the alternatives are worse.

The “emperor” we honour is not the autocratic rule of one man or a clique of the privileged, but the rule of law overseen by our representatives in Parliament. If the Christians of the Roman Empire were instructed to honour the system of Government under which they lived, how much more should we?