Laissez-Faire in Religion

I

I HAVE been greatly interested in an article with this title in a recent magazine,¹ in which the writer seeks to show that there is a glaring logical inconsistency in the conduct of those who favor a large measure of social control in economic affairs, and are less disposed to submit to such control in matters of religion.

He points out that the change from mediæval feudalism to modern industrialism was a change ‘from a social concept of life to an individualistic concept of life,’ — in Sir Henry Maine’s phrase, ‘from status to contract.’ With this was evolved the doctrine of Laissez-faire, enunciated by the economists of the first half of the nineteenth century. Parallel with this he discovers a similar tendency in religion. ‘When the rest of thought became individualistic in this way, religion, as one who perceives the unity of life might expect, became individualistic, too. . . . The man who thought that he ought to be allowed by society to do as he saw fit, also, as a matter of course, thought that he should be permitted to believe as he saw fit.’

It may perhaps be questioned whether the tendency to individualism in religion was an outgrowth of the economic tendency. The Reformation considerably antedated the French Revolution, and it might be maintained that the movement in the world of thought was the cause rather than the effect of the movement in the industrial world.

Not to insist on this, however, it is true that both these movements were taking place simultaneously; that the individual found his importance greatly enhanced, in both the economic and the religious realm, at the end of the eighteenth century. It is also true that this has resulted, in the religious world, in a great multiplication of sects; but the report of this process which the essayist offers is not accurate. ‘The one thing,’ he says, ‘which held people together was their devotion to a common fetich-book, the Bible. When at length modern scientific criticism had torn the Bible from its fetich-throne and restored it to its proper place, the state of religion became plain as a state of anarchy.’ The historical fact appears to be quite otherwise. The devotion to a common fetich-book has been the principal cause of the multiplication of sects. They are all based on Biblical interpretation, and all assume Biblical infallibility. Since modern scientific criticism has begun to get a hearing, the tendency to division has been checked, and movements toward unity have been gaining strength.

It is also true that within the last quarter of a century this individualistic philosophy has been subjected to sharp criticism by economists and publicists, and that Laissez-faire has ceased to be regarded as a panacea for all social ills. It is becoming evident that the individual does not come to himself in isolation; that, in truth, he lives and moves and has his being in the social group. The philosophy which makes him central is seen to be a defective explanation of the facts of life. For this reason there has been a movement toward a larger measure of social construction. That function of the state which in the preamble of our national constitution is described as the ‘promotion of the general welfare,’has been greatly accentuated. In our closely packed urban populations the fact is recognized that not only health and education, but many of the economic needs of life such as water, light, and transportation, are common needs, and can best be supplied by the cooperative action of the community. There is, no doubt, a strong tendency to increase the amount of economic cooperation; this is the socialistic tendency. That there are limits to its successful extension is the belief of many; and if so, the great question of practical statesmanship is the question where the line should be drawn between social cooperation and individual initiative. Rut that the area of social cooperation has already been greatly extended, and is likely to be still more extended in the future, is not to be disputed.

This process is described as a reaction, — as ‘a return to a social emphasis.’ Is it a reaction? Is it a tendency toward feudalism? With Mr. Ruskin the revolt from Laissez-faire took that form; but is it true of those whose sympathies are with progressive or socialistic policies? I do not so understand it. I should doubt if the feudalistic state could rightly be characterized as putting a social emphasis on the facts of life. At any rate we are not going back to any such forms of social control as t hose which prevailed in Europe two hundred years ago.

The present social movement, as it looks to me, is not a reaction, but an advance. We are not going back to something we have left behind, we are going forward to something better than we have ever known. Are we not, indeed, proving the truth of the Hegelian triad, — of a progress from simplicity, through complexity, to unity? The status of feudalism has been broken up by the individualism of contract, and that is now being superseded by the higher unity of a true commonwealth.

It may be that there are those among the Socialists who would establish a collectivism so rigid that all individuality would be suppressed; that, indeed is the peril to which all socialistic schemes are exposed. That would be practically a return to the stat us of feudalism. But we may be sure that such a programme as this wall not succeed; we shall never relinquish the substance of the freedom we have won. Instead of going back to the uniformity which was secured by the suppression of the individual, we shall go forward, through the realization of individuality, to the unity which is won by consenting wills. And the only way in which that unity can be realized, is by the free consent of individuals. It cannot be established by any kind of pressure. Neither the militant suffragettes nor the Industrial Workers of the World can show us the way to it. Their paths lead us straight away from it. Their methods would, indeed, drive us back to the bondage from which we have escaped; but we shall not return.

II

Such seems to me the rationale of progress in the economic realm. Is there, now, any analogy between the movements in this realm, and the movements in the religious realm? It is urged that whereas these movements ought, logically, to go forward pari passu, they are in fact failing to keep step; and that this implies, on the part of those who are trying to keep along with both of them, either muddleheadedness or insincerity. I hear it said that while in economics there is a decided reversion to the principle of social control, in religion that principle is flatly rejected. I read, for instance, in a late periodical, these sentences: ‘The strange, the almost startling incongruity about our modern situation is that the same people who insist on the right of democracy to control all individuals economically, are the very ones who are loudest in their demands that the democracy control no individual religiously.'

The italics are not mine. Let us consider this. I find myself correctly described as holding in substance both these sets of opinions, and yet I have been, hitherto, wholly unconscious of any incongruity between them, and was not aware that I was ‘indulging in one of the most remarkable feats of mental gymnastics ever known in the history of man.’

I should desire, indeed, to phrase a little differently the demand first named. It may be that there are those who insist on the right of democracy to control all individuals in all parts of their economic action, but not many intelligent Socialists make any such demand. We all agree that the democracy shall control us all in some parts of our economic action. The democracy will insist on directing the methods by which some considerable part of our gains shall be spent. It will compel us to pay our taxes. It has always done so. We agree that it has a right to do so. And most of us agree that it may limit considerably the methods by which our gains may be made. It will not permit us to make money by counterfeiting or swindling, or highway robbery, or selling adulterated food.

It is true, however, that most of the action of the democracy referred to, which touches our economic interests, consists not so much in controlling or attempting to control our economic action, as in providing ways by which we may coöperate, — by organizing for us methods of economic coöperation. The democracy provides for us light, and water, and schools, and parks, and sometimes transportation, at a very reasonable expense; it does not seek to control us in the use of these things; we are free to take them or leave them. Our individual rights do not seem to be in any way impaired by such provision. We are taxed, as I have said, to pay for them; but the tax is only a fragment of what we should have to pay if we provided them for ourselves. Control is hardly the right word to describe the action of the democracy toward its citizens in such matters.

Still, I have admitted that the democracy does control and must control a considerable part of the economic action of all its citizens. And I also demand explicitly and stoutly ‘that the democracy control no individual religiously.' And I am not conscious of standing on my head when I make this assertion; I rather suppose myself to be standing on my feet as solidly as I ever stood. Neither the democracy, nor the aristocracy, nor the monarchy, nor the hierarchy, nor any other power, in earth or heaven or hell, has any right or power to control any man religiously. The right of every man to give account of himself unto God is a right which is not restricted to Socialists or Progressives or Modernists, but is claimed by the vast majority of intelligent people in all Protestant countries. There are few, indeed, of the rulers of civilized lands who do not freely concede this right to all their subjects. They expect to control every man, more or less, economically, but the wisest of them do not expect to control any of them religiously.

‘The State,’ says Bluntschli, ‘is an external organization of the common life. It has organs, therefore, only for things which are externally perceptible, and not for the inner spiritual life which has never manifested itself in words or deeds. It is therefore impossible for the State to embrace all the ends of individual life, because many, and those the most important sides of that life, are concealed from its view and inaccessible to its power. The natural gifts of individuals are wholly independent of the State, which can give neither intelligence to the fool nor courage to the coward, nor sight, to the blind. The State has no share in kindling love within the heart; it cannot follow the thought of the student, or correct the errors of tradition. As soon as questions arise about the life, and especially the spiritual life, of individuals, the State finds both its insight, and its power hemmed in by limits which it cannot pass.' ²

That principle is firmly impressed on the thought of the age, and is not likely to be disregarded. Whatever the democracy may do or fail to do in the way of controlling individuals economically, it will not venture on the task of controlling them religiously. Nor will it be possible to convince any fairly well-educated democracy that this action involves any serious inconsistency.

III

It is assumed by those who make this criticism that there is also a ‘demand for the abolition of dogma,’and that this demand is not consistent with the demand for an increased social emphasis. If by dogma is meant simply a coherent and exact statement of religious truth, it may be questioned whether there is any demand among rational people for the ‘abolition’ of it.

Such statements are always desirable, and all thoughtful men are interested in studying and comparing them. Even statements which disagree with our own opinions are valuable as giving the points of view of those who think differently.

If by dogma is meant a formulary of religious belief which is imposed on us by authority, and which we are required to accept under pain of censure or condemnation, then indeed there are many who demand its abolition. The imposition, under penalty, of forms of religious belief, is a procedure which ought always to be resisted, in the interest of a sincere faith. The belief which has been produced by compulsion of any sort is of no religious value. No faith but a spiritual faith can be of any use to any man, and ‘where the Spirit of the Lord is there is liberty.’ The divine mandate is, ‘Let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind.’ The dogma which comes saying, ‘Believe me or be damned,’is an intruder in whose face we may well bar our doors. That is not the divine way of leading men into the knowledge of the truth.

If by dogma is meant a system of religious truth which is fixed, final, ‘irreformable,’ that, too, is a pretender whose rule we must defy. No such final formulations are possible in a growing church. More light is always breaking forth from God’s holy Word, and God’s wonderful world, and the creeds must always make room for it.

The one thing which no religious man is justified in believing is that God is making a failure in the government of this world. If He is not making a failure, then the ages as they pass are coming into a larger knowledge of his truth, and

‘The thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns.’

And if this is so, then the present age is the one in which his will is most clearly revealed. Surely we ought, not to assume that all that could be made known concerning him was made known in the first century or in the first three centuries, or in the sixteenth century; dogmas which were fixed at any of those dates must need restatement.

It is hardly needful to argue this proposition; a mere glance through the tables of contents of the eight volumes of Harnack’s History of Doctrines, will make it evident enough that the ages have been constantly modifying the dogmas of the church. There is not one of them which survives to-day with the same significance that it had in the early centuries. And a robust faith rejoices in this splendid development of Christian doctrine, and is ready to make the most of it, and to welcome new manifestations of it, as the years increase.

For the abolition of the dogma which is an iron rule, or a petrified corpse, there is, no doubt, a strong demand to-day. And there is no more general desire to return to the unmodified beliefs of the early centuries than there is to restore feudalism in the economic realm. But I think that in the religious realm, as in the economic, that same triadic movement is in progress, — thesis, antithesis, synthesis, — the movement of religious thought from a uniformity imposed by authority, through a period of individualistic skepticism and denial, to a higher unity of the spirit in which the separated bands will come together with rejoicing. This higher unity will never be secured by a reimposition of the dogmatic formularies of the past; the faith of the new day will find its own forms.

IV

Yet that higher unity will never be achieved by a repudiation of all the pieties of the past. The substance of the faith will be kept and cherished as a precious inheritance. The forms of the spiritual life change, but the fact abides. The generations are bound together by vital bonds. Radicalism without roots is fruitless. The modernism which has no use for the past is only a little less absurd than the traditionism which finds no revelation in the present. The man who does not know that God in times past spake unto the fathers, and who is not eager to hear the word that came to them, and to lay hold upon the truth which they treasured for us, is ill-prepared to take the truth which at the end of the days is spoken to us. To a mood so shallow and flippant no large revelation is likely to be made. A religion which lacks historical background is like a culture with the same defect; it is apt to be crude and conceited and undevout. The reverent mind is well persuaded

On the other hand the religion of the past can never be set up as the Procrustean bed to which the religion of the present, must be adjusted. This is the purblind project of most of those who shape the policy of our conservative churches. Not content with gathering out of the past the good which it has saved for us, and letting it blend fruitfully with the good which the present is bringing, they insist on making the thought-forms of antiquity the norm and the gauge of all our thinking; and the symbols by which piety found expression fifteen hundred years ago the standards to which all our utterance must conform. It is pathetic that religion should be subjected to such a crippling regimen. The past is entitled to our reverence, but when it seeks to dominate our thought and life, we are compelled to remember that the present and the future also have their rights which must not be ignored, and their gifts which must not be despised. We are heirs of all the ages, and must claim our heritage.

‘Is it not time,’ we are asked, ‘for some hardy souls who fear not popular clamor, to insist that the only kind of religion which is scientific is dogmatic religion, and that the reason that dogmatic religion is scientific is because it is based on the fundamental human law that the experience of the race is vastly more important than that of any individual or of any generation within it?’

This last sentence brings the whole truth into plain sight. ‘The experience of the race is vastly more important than that of any individual or of any generation within it.’ Nothing can be truer. The experience of the race surely includes the experience of the last century, as well as the first. If there are any who propose to base their religion wholly on the experience of the last century, ignoring those which have preceded it, they are not wise leaders; we need not heed them. But we may with equal wisdom turn a deaf ear to those who insist that the experience of the race was all gathered up into dogmatic formularies which were shaped many centuries ago. What is generally meant by ‘ dogmatic religion,’ is a statement of belief which was fixed far back in the centuries, and ever since has been jealously guarded from change. In this crystallization of dogma the law of growth is ignored. The reason why what is commonly known as dogmatic religion is unscientific is that it sets at nought ‘the fundamental human law that the experience of the race is vastly more important than that of any individual or any generation within it.’ The experience of the race up to the time of Augustine or of Thomas Aquinas or Luther or Calvin was of great value, and we are fools to ignore it; but the experience of the race since the last of these men passed to his reward has been of profound significance, and we must find room for it in the statements of our faith.

It is out of the social consciousness, as this argument rightly insists, that our theology must come. It is in and through the social consciousness that God reveals himself. And while the social consciousness of this generation is not sufficient unto itself, and needs to be corrected by the experience of the past, it is yet both reverent and reasonable to say that it is quite as well worth searching for indications of the will of God, as is the social consciousness of the generation of Augustine. There have been great and wonderful disclosures of the truth and love of God in all the generations since that day. The ethical standards have been wonderfully elevated and purified. The ideas of right and wrong have been greatly revised. An ethnic morality has given place to a universal morality. Justice has a connotation unknown to the builders of the ancient creeds. Is it not evident that the theology which was framed by men to whom the Roman principle of the patria potestas was a familiar idea is likely to need restatement in this generation?

Yes, by all means, let us gather into our statements of belief the experience of the race. Let us make them express what God has revealed in the growth of compassion, in the enlargement of liberty, in the spread of democracy, in the realization of human brotherhood. We shall not be content with the forms which sufficed for earlier ages, though we shall treasure these as testimonies of the centuries which produced them, and seek to appropriate the truth they contain. Nor shall we be able to dispense with statements of our faith. We shall need to put our common beliefs and convictions into forms of words, which we may repeat together, in which we may rejoice to express the unity of our faith. But they will probably be very simple forms, because such will be the demand of a generation whose face is set toward unity.

The creeds of the past have largely been weapons of polemics. They have recorded the differences between those who adopted them and those from whom they sought to withdraw themselves. The period of differentiation is past, the period of integration has begun. Henceforth the significant expression of religious endeavors after unity must indicate a purpose to include and harmonize, rather than to discriminate and divide. Instead of being treated as clubs to fight heretics with, they will be olive-branches to welcome believers.

Let no one imagine, then, that there is to be any reaction, in economics or in religion. In economics we are not going back from individualism to feudalism; we are going forward to the higher coöperations for which our training in individual initiative has prepared us. In religion we are not going back from individualism to mediæval dogma and sacerdotal control; we are going forward to the unity of the spirit, and to that accord of consenting minds which can be won only through liberty.