The Illusion of Moral Neutrality - Part IV
	First Things 35 
	(August/September 1993): 32-37 
	Reproduced with permission
		
		Introduction:
        
            Part IV of the original article is reproduced 
								here because it discusses the false dichotomy of 
								'religious' and 'secular.'  However, the first 
								three parts of the essay should not be 
								neglected. The first introduces the false god 
								Neutrality, whose worshippers "cannot answer the 
								question 'Why be neutral?' without committing 
								themselves to particular goods--social peace, 
								self-expression, self-esteem, ethnic pride, or 
								what have you--thereby violating their own 
								desideratum of Neutrality." Part II explores the 
								nature of genuine tolerance, concluding that it 
								is a moral virtue. A hard saying is proposed in 
								Part III: that tolerance cannot be taught unless 
								all of the virtues are taught as well. "We 
								cannot compensate for the collapse of all our 
								virtues," warns the author, "by teaching 
								tolerance and letting the rest go by, as some 
								educators and social critics seem to think; the 
								only cure for moral collapse is moral renewal, 
								on all fronts simultaneously." [Link 
								to the full article] [Administrator]
	 
	Time now to turn to the question of religious 
							tolerance, where even the rules are far from easy to 
							discern.
	What is religion anyway? Some people say that all 
							religions depend on faith, while all secularisms 
							depend on reason. But as Chesterton remarked in 
							Orthodoxy, "It is idle to talk always of the 
							alternative of reason and faith. Reason is itself a 
							matter of faith. It is an act of faith to assert 
							that our thoughts have any relation to reality at 
							all." Other people say that all religions believe in 
							God, while all secularisms do not. But though 
							Buddhists do not believe in God, yet we call 
							Buddhism a religion.
	Still others, like Tillich and Niebuhr, hold the 
							mark of religion to be the practice of ultimate 
							concern that orders all other concerns, 
							unconditioned loyalty that trumps all other 
							loyalties. Here we finally hit the mark. For 
							Christians, the ultimate concern is the saving God 
							of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob who has revealed 
							himself in Messiah. Though Buddhists do not believe 
							in the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, much less 
							in Messiah, they do have an ultimate concern-escape 
							from suffering, inherent in desire, which, they 
							hold, springs in turn from the illusion of 
							existence.
	But if religion is the practice of ultimate 
							concern, then we have another problem. In the first 
							place, even a secularism may be the practice of an 
							ultimate concern. We acknowledge this, for instance, 
							by calling Leninism a religion; similarly we say of 
							a greedy man that "his god is money" and call 
							misplaced devotion "idolatry." In the second place, 
							even among those secularisms that do not go so far 
							as to identify ultimate concerns, none is without 
							implications as to what could, or could not, count 
							as an ultimate concern. John Stuart Mill could never 
							decide which, if any, of the "permanent interests of 
							man as a progressive being" was deserving of 
							unconditioned loyalty. But one thing he was sure of, 
							that Messiah was not among them.
	What all this tells us is that "religious" and 
							"secular" constitute a false dichotomy. We would do 
							better with a trichotomy. An acknowledged religion 
							like Christianity or Buddhism posits an ultimate 
							concern and admits it. An unacknowledged religion 
							like Leninism posits an ultimate concern but denies 
							that so doing is religious. And an incomplete 
							religion like Millianism has not finished ranking 
							its concerns. Incomplete religion can live only in 
							the dreamworld of thought. In the light of day it 
							must become complete or die. For in every life or 
							way of life-whether lived simply, lived with the 
							guidance of an ethical theory, or even lived in 
							defiance of an ethical theory-given enough time, 
							some concern eventually emerges as paramount. 
							Eventually there is something to which every knee 
							bows. This is the person's god. As a matter of 
							theory, one may deny that any concern deserves 
							ultimacy. But as a matter of practice, no one 
							escapes ceding ultimacy to something, whether it 
							deserves ultimacy or not. Choices between 
							incompatible urgencies are unavoidable. To prevent 
							the rise of one or another of these urgencies to 
							supremacy, a person would have to practice a truly 
							Stoic discipline of contradiction-and in the end we 
							would have to ask what urgency he served in so 
							disordering himself. In short, one need not be 
							conscious of his god, or even conscious that he has 
							a god. One might think he has no god, or that he is 
							"looking for" or "waiting for" a god. One may even 
							be converted from one god to another. But one will 
							have a god-or at least be on the road to having one.
	With all of this ultimate concern floating about, 
							how can there be religious tolerance at all? The 
							answer is, there can't be-unless one's ultimate 
							concern commands it, or at least allows it. For in 
							this case and this case alone, tolerance toward 
							other claimants to ultimacy is obedience to one's 
							own.
	Thus St. Hilary of Poitiers: "God does not want 
							unwilling worship, nor does He require a forced 
							repentance." The idea is that although God demands 
							and deserves our unconditioned loyalty, He is of 
							such a nature that nothing exacted by threats could 
							truly serve Him. For He desires sons and daughters, 
							not slaves: His love is inexorable and consumes 
							everything contrary to itself. This is not the 
							Kantian idea that choice is lovable but rather the 
							Christian idea that love is chosen. I do not say 
							that His supposed followers have always practiced 
							the loving tolerance He demands. I do say that 
							intolerance stands under His judgment.
	But notice: the same consuming fire that for its 
							own sake demands tolerance, for its own sake sets 
							the limits to what is tolerated. If Hilary was right 
							that God does not want unwilling worship, then 
							Hilary's tolerance must be absolute with respect to 
							permitting belief in other gods. This does not mean 
							permitting every act of service to these gods. 
							Hilary must claim the right to say that there are 
							evil services which nothing deserving of 
							unconditioned loyalty could demand, and the 
							correlative right to try to stop anyone who attempts 
							them. For instance, whatever claims of conscience 
							Hilary may honor he cannot permit a person to plead 
							them in justification of murder. "God told me to 
							kill anyone who got in my way" cuts no ice with him; 
							nor is the case different when other ultimate 
							concerns, other gods, are pleaded in place of God. 
							The Defense of the Revolution, The Greater God of 
							the Whole, The Purity of the Race, the Hunger of 
							Moloch, The Right to Control One's Body-neither 
							these nor any other claimants to ultimacy are 
							accepted as justifying the sacrifice of innocents. 
							"Even conceding your God-given right to be left 
							alone by me in your honor to another god," I imagine 
							Hilary saying, "that right concerns your own soul 
							only. I will not permit you, in its service, to 
							inflict injuries which my own God abhors and 
							forbids."
	My example is Christian because I am a Christian. 
							But the logic works just the same if you posit some 
							other ultimate concern, some other god than mine. 
							For instance, the god of the Benthamite utilitarian 
							is "aggregate pleasure." Hence if the Benthamite 
							could tolerate other creeds at all, such tolerance 
							would be both ordained and limited by the 
							requirements of such pleasure. Likewise, religious 
							tolerance for the Millian utilitarian would be both 
							ordained and limited by the nature of man's 
							"permanent interests" as a "progressive being," and 
							religious tolerance for the Leninist would be both 
							ordained and limited by the needs of "proletarian 
							dictatorship."
	One might suppose that this logic works only for 
							so-called teleological creeds, said to give priority 
							to achieving the good over doing the right. This is 
							not so. No recent writer has more sternly insisted 
							on the priority of right over good than John Rawls. 
							Yet even he has an ultimate concern. His concern is 
							"autonomy," the conditions for the realization of 
							which are supposedly determined by choices made 
							behind a Veil of Ignorance that obliterates personal 
							memory. But the conclusion is obvious: For the 
							Rawlsian, religious tolerance is both ordained and 
							limited by what people could want who no longer 
							remembered the love of God.
	Where does all this leave us? The bottom line is 
							that Neutrality is no more coherent in the matter of 
							religious tolerance than it is in tolerance of any 
							other sort. What you can tolerate pivots on your 
							ultimate concern. Because different ultimate 
							concerns ordain different zones of tolerance, social 
							consensus is possible only at the points where these 
							zones overlap. Note well: The greater the 
							resemblance of contending concerns, the greater the 
							overlap of their zones of tolerance. The less the 
							resemblance of contending concerns, the less the 
							overlap of their zones of tolerance. Should 
							contending concerns become sufficiently unlike, 
							their zones of tolerance no longer intersect at all. 
							Consensus vanishes.
	This, I believe, is our current trajectory. The 
							embattled term "culture war" is not inflammatory; it 
							is merely exact. And we can expect the war to grow 
							worse. The reason for this is that our various gods 
							ordain not only different zones of tolerance, but 
							different norms to regulate the dispute among 
							themselves. True tolerance is not well tolerated. 
							For although the God of some of the disputants 
							ordains that they love and persuade their opponents, 
							the gods of some of the others ordain no such thing.