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    The Catholic Bishops’ War Against Joe Biden

    The political faction of the Catholic Church known as the US Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB) is facing a major problem. Though it was never meant to play a political role, for historical reasons, it has allowed itself to do what all individual Americans find themselves compelled to do: choose a side. It has fallen into one of the two cultural-political grooves Americans are expected to follow and identify within a binary world of opposition between liberals and conservatives, Democrats and Republicans.

    Since the church’s traditions stretch back two millennia, a majority of US bishops feel that they logically belong on the conservative side. But having once been instructed to render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s, Christian prelates have a Biblical precedent for avoiding a partisan political stance. Moreover, for nearly two centuries, the White Anglo-Saxon Protestant majority effectively marginalized the Catholic Church as a potential political force. Even though it stands as the largest single Christian denomination, the Catholic hierarchy in the US has traditionally deferred to the dominant worldview of Protestant nationalism in an officially secular nation whose coins nevertheless proclaim that in God they trust and whose flag, when pledged to, represents “one nation, under God.”

    Why Is Joe Biden’s Presidency Anathema to So Many US Catholics?

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    In other words, a relatively stable historical pax religiosa commanded that Catholics let the Protestants rule, going about their business on the sidelines. Things, alas, become troublingly complex on those rare occasions when a Catholic is elected president. This happened once before, but ended after less than three years, on November 22, 1963, with the assassination of John F. Kennedy. Now it has happened again with the election of Joe Biden. The bishops feel they must choose between their adherence to a pan-Christian right-wing agenda in the US culture wars and their support of a member of their flock who legally holds the reins of secular power in the most powerful nation on earth.

    Quoted by AP, Archbishop Joseph Naumann of Kansas City expressed what he formulates as a paradox that Biden must account for: “It can create confusion. … How can he say he’s a devout Catholic and he’s doing these things that are contrary to the church’s teaching?”

    Today’s Daily Devil’s Dictionary definition:

    Devout:

    Attached by conscience to a set of guiding principles often of religious inspiration that manifests itself through an intimate sense of personal devotion but taken by people with an presumptuous sense of their own authority to signify unthinking obedience of all individuals to their own personal set of values.

    Contextual Note

    There are two simple answers to the archbishop’s question, one secular and the other theological. On the secular side, Biden can claim to be “a devout Catholic” because the US Constitution protects freedom of speech. On the spiritual side, traditional Catholic theology actually holds conscience in higher regard than ecclesiastic law.

    Like most hypercompetitive Americans, bishops clearly believe in the virtue of asserting one’s power, which in US culture means committing to pushing one’s influence always a bit further than seems natural. But in the more ancient Catholic tradition, bishops are meant to be guides of the flock, supporting the effort of the faithful to live up to the ideals of the Christian community. The community is neither a military organization dedicated to violence nor a profit-focused enterprise out to crush its rivals. One contemporary American theologian, Marcel Lejeune, calls the Catholic community “a difficult mess, wrapped up in grace. More like a family.”

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    Catholic Bishops are not expected to play the role of theologians. They neither make nor enforce the law of the church, known as canon law. They are specifically called upon to teach, but neither to legislate nor to judge. Pope Benedict XIV, in a 1740 encyclical on the duties of bishops, described them “as tender parents of the lambs,” the faithful who compose their flock. Bishops may teach and preach, but not overreach.Canon 383 states that “a bishop should act with humanity and charity toward the brothers and sisters who are not in full communion with the Catholic Church.”

    So why, in the name of charity, do a majority of US bishops want to publicly shame Joe Biden? USCCB President Archbishop Jose Gomez of Los Angeles complains that “our new President has pledged to pursue certain policies that would advance moral evils and threaten human life and dignity, most seriously in the areas of abortion, contraception, marriage, and gender.”

    The Washington Post reports that once Biden’s election was confirmed, the USCCB created “a special working group to address issues surrounding the election of a Catholic president who in some cases promotes policies in conflict with Catholic teaching and the bishops’ priorities.” Perhaps realizing that the reconciliation of a church’s pastoral teaching and the democratic practices of the surrounding secular society may require more complex reflection than the bishops are capable of processing or tolerating, “the working group was disbanded, and the topic moved to the USCCB’s doctrine committee.”

    Archbishop Naumann complained that Biden’s public position “can create confusion.” Michael Sean Winters, author of “God’s Right Hand: How Jerry Falwell Made God a Republican and Baptized the American Right,” commented on the bishops’ stance: “What it showed is that most of the speakers are confused in ways that are unique, and common, to ideologues.” Michelle Boorstein, writing for The Washington Post, adds this remark: “The USCCB is akin to an industry group of equals and has no authority over bishops themselves; only the Vatican does.” Moreover, as theology professor Steven Millies has observed, “What we’re seeing now is an effort to please donors who want a church which will wage a culture war.” In short, the American way.

    Historical Note

    Winters documents how the Protestant American right not only captured God but enlisted the Catholic hierarchy in support of their Republican God. For most of the 20th century, working-class American Catholics tended to be Democrats. At the same time, because of their low social status, second-generation Catholic immigrants were disproportionately attracted to the military and law enforcement. This eventually created an identification within the Catholic community with the militaristic values of US nationalism and the enforcement of laws dictated by an essentially white, Anglo-Saxon Protestant power structure.

    John Kennedy’s election in 1960 troubled many people in the traditional power pyramid who were relieved to see him die in Dallas. Still, Kennedy’s election demonstrated that Catholics could have a role to play among the ruling elite. That may have been a factor in the new strategy of the Protestant right — formerly indifferent to the question of abortion that appeared to obsess only the Catholic Church — as they began to court the Catholic electorate. Protestant fundamentalists strove to show their solidarity with Catholics by not only embracing the “pro-life” cause but even turning it into the principal casus belli of the new culture wars designed to permit the Republicans to dominate politics and orientate policy toward the neoconservative norm that became dominant in the 1980s, infecting the Democratic Party as well.

    The absurdity of the Catholic hierarchy’s commitment to the positions of the Protestant fundamentalists’ worldview is best demonstrated by that same hierarchy’s indifference to the Vatican’s consistent opposition to nationalistic militarism and the scandal of war. If the sacrifice of human life constitutes the basis of their moral stance, abortion cannot even begin to compete with the loss of life and utter destruction wrought by American wars. And yet the bishops have never demonstrated the slightest concern with imperial slaughter.

    Most recently Pope Francis asserted that “in recent decades every single war has been ostensibly ‘justified’” by its proponents. At the same, he asserts that “it is very difficult nowadays to invoke the rational criteria elaborated in earlier centuries to speak of the possibility of a ‘just war.’”

    The two most authoritative theologians and philosophers in the Catholic tradition — St. Augustine and Thomas Aquinas — both insisted on the authority of the individual’s conscience and the difficulty of justifying war. As T. Hoffman points out, “Aquinas argued that the binding character of conscience, whether erring or not, means that acting against conscience is always evil.” Even if the bishops think Biden is wrong, it is presumptuous of them to judge his conscience. As for war, Biden could be held to account as the major Democratic promoter of George Bush’s clearly unjust and illegal invasion of Iraq. But that has never troubled the American bishops.

    *[In the age of Oscar Wilde and Mark Twain, another American wit, the journalist Ambrose Bierce, produced a series of satirical definitions of commonly used terms, throwing light on their hidden meanings in real discourse. Bierce eventually collected and published them as a book, The Devil’s Dictionary, in 1911. We have shamelessly appropriated his title in the interest of continuing his wholesome pedagogical effort to enlighten generations of readers of the news. Read more of The Daily Devil’s Dictionary on Fair Observer.]

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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    How Catholics Can Tilt the US Election

    Few Americans these days are likely to recognize the name Thomas Nast. Yet in the Civil War era, Nast was arguably the most famous cartoonist in the United States, responsible for creating and popularizing iconic images, such as “jolly St. Nick” (aka Santa Claus), Uncle Sam and the donkey and the elephant — symbols of the Democrats and Republicans ever since. Nast’s fame was reflected in the Overseas Press Club of America’s decision, in 1978, to name their annual award for best cartoons on international affairs after him.

    Yet 40 years later, the Press Club decided to wipe Nast’s name clean of the official title of the award. This came at the heel of the controversy, a few years earlier, provoked by Nast’s nomination for induction into New Jersey’s Hall of Fame. The nomination, his third in four years, once again ended in failure, despite Nast’s merits of having exposed the corruption of New York’s infamous Tammany Hall boss William M. Tweed, and despite his commitment to the anti-slavery cause and racial equality.

    When God Hates America

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    Unfortunately, Nast had a serious blind spot: a pronounced hostility to the country’s Catholic, and particularly Irish Catholic immigrant, community. Nast routinely portrayed the Irish as drunkards with ape-like features, bent on creating havoc; one cartoon has an Irishman sitting on a powder keg, a bottle in one hand, a torch in the other. His famous cartoon, “The American River Ganges,” was a perfect expression of the way Protestant Americans viewed the influx of European Catholics. It depicts Catholic bishops as crocodiles crawling onto American shores bent on attacking innocent schoolchildren.

    Blind Spot

    Nast’s kind of bigotry was hardly something new. Anti-Catholic sentiments ran rampant throughout the 19th century, starting with the massive influx of Irish and southern German Catholics in the 1840s and 1850s, regaining steam in the decades of the Civil War, with the emergence of the American Protective Association and a wave of pamphlets peddling anti-Catholic conspiracy theories, most famously the claim that the Catholic Church had been behind the assassination of Abraham Lincoln.

    Catholics were generally regarded with suspicion, if not outright fear, as an alien force sent by the pope to subvert the country’s republican institutions and destroy democracy in the United States. Even those who would concede that these allegations were highly exaggerated maintained that Catholic immigrants were not in a position to act as responsible citizens, lacking the independence of mind indispensable for being a good democrat. They were deemed to be under the influence of the pope and priests, who, in turn, were charged with being fundamentally hostile to American democracy.

    Most of its detractors maintained that the Catholic faith was fundamentally incompatible with the basic values that informed the American republic. Nativist and white supremacist organizations in the 1920s, most notoriously the second Ku Klux Klan, routinely targeted the country’s growing Catholic community.

    It took more than a century for American Catholics to be accepted as fully equal citizens. In 1937, when Gallup first asked the question, no more than 60% of respondents said they would vote for a Catholic presidential candidate. It took until the late 1970s that that number surpassed the 90% mark. As late as 2003, a prominent book on anti-Catholicism referred to it as the “last acceptable prejudice” in the United States. Some 15 years later, a commentary in the Catholic News Agency charged that it was “becoming more and more obvious that the Catholic Church is being targeted as the public enemy of our society.” For the author, a retired bishop from New Jersey whose diocese was marred in sex abuse scandals during his tenure, the main reason for anti-Catholic hostility was the church’s standing firm on “her teaching on contraception, abortion, stem cell research, in-vitro fertilization, marriage and divorce.”

    This is one side of the story and certainly an important one that must not be ignored or trivialized. For large parts of American history, Catholics represented a besieged minority, particularly if they happened to be of Irish or Italian descent. At the same time, however, as the size of the Catholic immigrant community grew in size, so did its influence. Many in the first wave of Catholic immigrants settled in large northeastern cities, such as New York and Boston, where they quickly became a major political factor, primarily for the Democratic Party, which built a whole patronage system on the largely Irish Catholic vote. From this perspective, Nast’s crusade against New York City’s Tammany Hall and his anti-Irish cartoons acquire a certain logic.

    It is also a fact that the American Catholic Church actively opposed abolitionism in the United States. And it is also a fact that there was little love lost between the Irish, and later Italian, immigrant communities and the African American minority, with animosities coming from both sides. Catholic immigrants had always voted for the Democratic Party, and the outcome of the Civil War only strengthened the association, as did Lincoln’s Republican Party’s association with the anti-Catholic cause, albeit rather subtle, even if it was well known that in some parts of the country there were strong ties between the Republicans and the American Protective Association.

    Historical Irony

    It is important to keep this in mind in order to appreciate the significance of the role of the Catholic vote for the November election. Gone are the days when Catholics formed a dependable vote bank for the Democratic Party, when the Republicans were seen biased, if not hostile, to the Catholic faith. In 2016, according to Pew Research, 56% of registered Catholics voted for Trump, 44% for Hillary Clinton. Generally, nowadays, about half of registered Catholic voters identify themselves more or less as Republicans; roughly the same share more or less as Democrats. This implies that the Catholic vote is a perfect reflection of the pronounced political polarization and partisanship that has characterized the country as a whole for the past few decades.

    At the same time, Catholics are no longer considered unfit for high political offices, their republican credentials questioned, as was still the case when John F. Kennedy ran for office. To be sure, this has not yet played itself out with respect to the presidency. Joe Biden, if elected, would only be the second Catholic to be elected to the country’s highest political office. It is, however, the case for the other branches of the American political system — the Congress and particularly the Supreme Court. It is perhaps one of the great ironies of American history that today, the majority of the Supreme Court justices who are supposed to interpret and uphold the Constitution of the United States happen to be Catholics — members of a faith that once was considered anathema to everything the country stood for, or at least claimed to stand for.

    With the passing away of Ruth Bader Ginsburg on September 18, the Supreme Court has once again become a focal point of attention. This might appear a bit strange. After all, the Supreme Court is generally seen as “‘the least dangerous branch’ because it can only tell you what the law means.” Its principal task is “to settle conflicting judgments from lower courts, and determine whether laws are in conflict with the Constitution or other federal laws.”

    This, however, is not how America’s Christian fundamentalists see it. For them, the Supreme Court is the one crucial institution that is in a position to reverse what they consider the greatest abomination in American legal history, Roe vs. Wade, the decision that made abortion legal countywide. President Donald Trump’s choice of Amy Coney Barrett, a devout Catholic and mother of seven (two of the children by adoption), to fill the vacant seat on the Supreme Court is, therefore, of supreme significance. Not only because it would tilt the court decisively to the right, but also because it might help sway the outcome of the November election in Trump’s favor, particularly with respect to the Hispanic Catholic vote.

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    In a recent commentary in The New York Times, Linda Chavez called upon the Democrats not to take the Hispanic vote for granted. In 2016, almost 30% of Hispanics voted for Trump, despite his blatant denigration of migrants from south of the border. There are numerous reasons for the way Hispanics vote the way they do, not least their national origins. And there is the religious factor. As Chavez points out, a growing number of Hispanics identify themselves as Protestants or even evangelicals, and as such are more prone to vote for Trump.

    In addition, there is the question of abortion — an abomination to evangelicals and devout Roman Catholics alike. In a recent poll, more than 50% of Hispanic Catholics thought abortion should be illegal in most or all cases. In fact, Hispanics were the only distinct ethnic group to think so. Among white Catholics, for instance, roughly 40% took the pro-life position. To complicate things even more, a study from 2007 found a marked difference between first and second-generation American Hispanics on the question of abortion. Among the former, almost two-thirds indicated at the time that it should be illegal; among the latter, only a bit more than 40% thought so.

    God’s Tool

    In an earlier article, I have suggested that Trump’s core constituency, evangelicals and devout Catholics, have supported him not because they believe he is a man of God — he quite clearly is the opposite, all his pretending notwithstanding — but because they believe he is “God’s tool.” Ginsburg’s passing away a few weeks before the election, allowing Trump to choose an avowed abortion opponent to fill her seat, cannot but strengthen their belief that the president is on a mission from God. Trump, of course, has far more mundane motives, first and foremost to lock in all the conservative, reactionary and far-right groups in American society that might put him over the edge in crucial states.

    There is a certain irony to the fact that the most widely loathed president, both at home and abroad, in recent American history might be put in a position to impose himself for four more years both on the United States and the world at large with the help of a community that for a long time in the past was one of the most disparaged, if not outright abhorred religious minority in America. One might be tempted to see in this an instance of belated revenge for the treatment received in the past. As the good book states in Romans 12:19, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.” Poor Thomas Nast must be spinning like a mad top in his grave.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More