POLITICS
The louder he talked of his religion, the faster he counted his votes
BRUCE ANDERSON
Headline writers are not on oath. Faced with soft sift in an hour-glass, they must impose meaning. Thus it was with Tony Blair's interview last Sunday. He did not say that a Christian could not be a Con- servative; he did not say anything at all. So pity the poor headline writer. He could not put: 'more mush from the wimp', he had to restrict himself to designing a fence for Mr Blair to sit on. Can he be blamed for taking some latitude?
If Mr Blair had said that a Christian could not be a Conservative, he could have justified his position. Lord Hailsham told us that the wisest Conservatives regard reli- gion as the most important thing in life; but Christ's Kingdom is not of this world, while Conservatism is an earthly creed: a blend of eupeptic pessimism and private devotion. In recent years, a number of Conservative Christians or capitalist Christians have tried to argue that their doctrines are com- patible. But however nimble the dialectic, this is intellectual tap-dancing. Even if the needle's eye turns out to have been a city gate rather than a sewing implement, a laden camel could not pass through it.
There are points, admittedly, that a Tory could seize on in the rich young man's dis- cussion with Christ, as described in St Matthew. He is told to 'go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor', but with the pro- viso: 'If thou wilt be perfect .. . and . . . have treasure in heaven' — to which the moyen sensuel capitalist could reply: who is talking about perfection, and surely any place in Heaven is treasure? But the rich young man himself — albeit an over-serious youth — found no comfort in the small print. He 'went away sorrowful: for he had great possessions'. He was surely right to do so, for the spirit of the gospels is egalitarian. When there is poverty, all riches ought instantly to be devoted to its relief; while there is famine, there should be no feasting. The accumulation of worldly goods is justi- fied solely to meet the necessities of life. Beyond that, it is a distraction from the eternal purposes for which life was created.
`Render unto Caesar' and the parable of the talents have often been cited as routes out of the Christian Tory's dilemma. But the parable enjoins hard work, not capital- ist accumulation, and it is hard to refute the Bennite argument that 'Render unto Cae- sar' was no more than a quibble with which Our Lord deflected a premature challenge from Caesar. How could the image on the coin dispute precedence with Him who made the Emperor, and the gold?
Leaving aside Mrs Thatcher — who was a restless creature, as ill at ease with her Party as it was with her, an expedient, not an exemplar — Conservatives seek harmony. They wish to be easy with themselves, com- fortable in their social relations and at peace with the authorities: any gaps can be filled in with stoicism. It was natural that the Conservative Party should find itself at one with the Church of England, whose very existence depended on the mainte- nance of Erastianism and the repression of enthusiasm. But Christ 'came not to send peace, but a sword'. How could any Conser- vative associate himself with that mission?
So if he had wanted to demonstrate the flaws in Conservative Christianity, Mr Blair could have found arguments. There is only one problem. They would apply equally well to him. Just as any Christian Conserva- tive could have agreed with anything in the Blair interview — the vapid political jibes excepted — so all the New Testament stric- tures against the better-off apply as forcibly to Mr Blair as to Mr Major. Neither is about to follow the example of St Francis; both are dining with Dives, not starving with Lazarus. There is nothing in Mr Blair's religion which entitles him to disparage any Conservative who calls himself a Christian. But there is much in Mr Blair's interview which should earn him disparagement.
It is at least as hard to write about reli- gion as it is about music, art or wine. At the core of religion is faith, and how can one convey faith in language? Many writers have been eloquent about the absence of faith, or about its surrogates; faith is itself a language which makes words redundant. But when one's believing friends discuss their faith, even if haltingly, there is always a resonance from the deeper self.
Not in Mr Blair's case. In recent years, he has cultivated the Tory press, with a double motive. He hopes to encourage the Thatcherite ultras to continue undermining Mr Major; he also hopes to persuade ordi- nary Conservatives that he is such an unthreatening character that they can indulge their political discontents even at the cost of a Labour government. Last Sun- day's interview was another stage in the campaign. Easter provided the excuse for clever politics employing new Labour's favourite tactics: vagueness and hypocrisy.
Mr Blair began by telling us that he can- not stand politicians who wear God on their sleeves. We were meant to give him top marks for humility and reticence, before he went on to wear God on his sleeve for the next five columns (he is the preachiest politician in Britain today, bar Ian Paisley, and Mr Paisley's religion has a theological content). He then briefly became interest- ing, when discussing the personalities of the Resurrection. St Peter — one's mind went instantly to John Prescott, who would have made an excellent Peter in one of those crude, vigorous c. 1500 German paintings of the betrayal of Christ. `Tu es Prescottus, et super hanc Prescott aedificabo my betrayal of the old Labour Party.' Mr Blair moved on to Pontius Pilate, which made one think of Peter Mandelson, a judgment confirmed when Mr Blair said: 'the archetypal politi- cian . . . Pilate . . . was nearly a good man.'
But as soon as Mr Blair moved from per- sonalties to concepts, the argument disinte- grated into vacuous trendiness, He claimed to 'relish the religious pluralism of this country', and then promptly contradicted himself by saying that: 'I find many of the angry debates between Catholic and Protestant completely baffling.' Does he not realise that the history of religious plu- ralism is a history of sectarian strife? If not, let him consider the angry debates between Hindu and Muslim, now part of the reli- gious pluralism of this country. The impression of ignorance and thoughtlessness was confirmed by his com- ments on sin. Sin, we learn, is a word which `conjures up images of strait-laced piety and frowning disapproval. It seems old- fashioned today' — we cannot have any- thing old-fashioned in new Labour, can we? He then became ineffably trite, saying: 'I don't mean "sin" in the sense of personal morality.' What other sense can the word possibly have? Original sin apart, it is pre- cisely a failure of personal morality which gives rise to sin. Social morality can provide reinforcement, but only the individual can make the moral choice to sin or not to sin.
But Mr Blair is interested in people's electoral choices, not their moral ones. His religious opinions make the Reverend J.C. Flannel sound like St Dominic, and his message is easily summarised: 'Peace in the Labour Party and goodwill to all voters.'
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