Pagans and Christians in the City

by Steven D. Smith

  Community and Tradition. More generally, one need not be a disciple of Edmund Burke to understand that genuine human communities are not decreed into existence either by philosophical prescription or by governmental fiat; they are a product of people living together, over time, under traditions and customs that are shared or at least acquiesced in. The paganism that animated and consecrated the ancient city was communal and traditional in just this sense: it reflected patterns of living and thinking that had evolved over centuries. Conversely, Christianity was at that time the new, defiant, critical upstart. So perhaps the most central and powerful pagan indictment of Christianity (eloquently expressed, for example, in Symmachus’s poignant plea for retention of the Altar of Victory)45 was that the new religion was subverting the customs on which the Roman city was founded. (“Allow us, we beseech you, as old men to leave to posterity what we received as boys. The love of custom is great.”)46

  Today these relations are flipped. Now it is Christianity that has provided the dominant ideal for centuries, and has served to orient and inform ways of life that by now possess the character of tradition. Conversely, modern paganism has had to assert itself in opposition to received customs and traditions, now associated with Christianity, and hence has of necessity been critical and adversarial in character, not traditional. Thus, a central characteristic of the “modern paganism” that Peter Gay discerned and celebrated in the Enlightenment was its antitraditionalism and its relentlessly, aggressively critical quality.47

  Modern paganism can hardly be blamed, exactly, for opposing and undermining tradition; under the circumstances, what else could it do? Still, this critical, antitraditional, acidic posture subverts rather than sustains the social material with which actual communities are built and maintained.

  Sometimes proponents of the modern de-Christianized city at least implicitly understand the importance of tradition, and attempt to connect their more immanent and progressive vision to the transcendently oriented traditions that have undergirded the nation, at least until recently. But such efforts can end up underscoring the gaping disjunction between the contemporary immanent vision and the received tradition. In this spirit, John Rawls attempted to explain how his prescription of a public discourse purged of transcendent religion could nonetheless make allowance for Lincoln’s majestic Second Inaugural Address (“With malice toward none, with charity for all . . .”), perhaps the most profound and revered statement ever made by an American official or politician. This was no easy task because, as noted, Rawls’s “public reason” attempts to screen out theological appeals, while Lincoln’s speech was pervasively theological in character. Indeed, the speech was, as one historian observed, a “theological classic, containing within its twenty-five sentences fourteen references to God, many scriptural allusions, and four direct quotations from the Bible.”48

  Rawls aptly described the speech as offering a “prophetic (Old Testament) interpretation of the Civil War as God’s punishment for the sin of slavery.” He nonetheless suggested two reasons why the speech might escape censorship under his theology-averse “public reason.” But Rawls’s first suggestion—that the speech had “no implications bearing on constitutional essentials or matters of basic justice”—seems almost comically implausible. Slavery wasn’t a matter of basic justice? The reconstitution of the republic after secession and civil war wasn’t concerned with “constitutional essentials”? Rawls’s second suggestion—that Lincoln’s basic message “could surely be supported firmly by the values of public reason”49—seems almost astonishingly tone-deaf. To be sure, a president more attuned to Rawls’s prescription could give a talk saying something like the following: “My fellow citizens, slavery was a bad business and a violation of equal respect, but there’s no use pointing fingers now: we need to let bygones be bygones and get on with life.” But this bland, theologically sanitized speech would not even come close to approximating the power and insight of Lincoln’s actual address.

  In the end, Rawls’s effort to explain why his own civic vision would not exclude the most powerful interpretation of the American experience ever given by a political leader merely reveals the chasm between the contemporary progressive conception of the political community and the political traditions that in fact have constituted that community.

  In sum, modern paganism may yearn for community, but it has been forced to take an adversarial stance toward the actual substance of the community against which it has had to assert itself. Aspiring to reestablish the solidarity of the ancient city, modern paganism has in fact been subversive of the community or communities that actually exist. Hence the oft-observed growing polarization in American society.

  Modern Paganism and the Problem of Tolerance

  Central to the possibility of community under conditions of pluralism is the practice of tolerance. The ancient Roman city was able to maintain solidarity in diversity because of, as Gibbon affectionately (and wishfully) put it, its “universal spirit of toleration.”50 To be sure, as we saw in chapter 6, Roman authorities did not explicitly endorse the idea of “tolerance.” Theirs was “not tolerance born of principle,”51 as J. A. North has observed; it consisted rather of indifference to most of the religious diversity that flourished in the empire together with an ability to absorb or annex most religious cults and practices into the pagan framework.52 When a religion resisted absorption, as Christianity and Judaism did, Roman authorities could be brutally and unapologetically repressive. Nonetheless, whether we describe its attitude as “tolerance” or as indifference/assimilation, ancient paganism did manage to embrace a vast variety of different cults and deities.

  Advancing beyond their ancient predecessors, modern progressive proponents of community tend to talk explicitly and favorably about toleration; indeed, tolerance is central to their self-understanding. Thus, we have already noticed Robin West’s advocacy of a “liberal, tolerant, diverse community.” Conversely, to the progressive mind, intolerance or bigotry seems to be the cardinal sin (as it was not to the Romans).

  Their more open and explicit endorsement of the principle might suggest that modern progressives would be even more tolerant than their pagan forebears were. Paradoxically, and sadly, this turns out to be a situation in which open endorsement of a virtue in fact works to undermine that virtue.

  Intolerance of the Intolerant. How so? Well, if tolerance is a virtue, then intolerance is a vice. And so the more emphatically I insist on tolerance, the more censorious I am likely to be toward the vice of intolerance wherever I perceive it (or think I perceive it). The observation leads to a familiar question, or conundrum: How should a tolerant person, or a tolerant society, treat people who are intolerant?

  Probably there is no logically compelled answer to this question. One possibility is that even the intolerant should be tolerated. In this vein, Justice Holmes countered the argument that Marxists were undeserving of the freedom of speech their philosophy rejected with the observation that “if, in the long run, the beliefs expressed in proletarian dictatorship are destined to be accepted by the dominant forces of the community, the only meaning of free speech is that they should be given their chance and have their way.”53 But Holmes’s sobering interpretation was not the only possible meaning of free speech. Others have argued that those who oppose free speech forfeit their right to it.54 More generally, the very notion of toleration implies that although much that is disagreeable should be put up with, there may be practices or ideas that are intolerable, or beyond the scope of what should be tolerated. And on either logical or prudential grounds, one might conclude that one thing even a tolerant society surely must not tolerate is . . . intolerance.55

  In this way, the enthusiastic endorsement of tolerance can provide a powerful rationale for excluding, marginalizing, or sanctioning people or institutions whose views are deemed intolerant. The notion of “intolerance” is in turn so elastic that it can be used to cover virtually anyone whose views or commitments imply rejection of beliefs o
r ways of life to which others adhere. You believe my way of life is immoral? You’re being intolerant.

  Another paradox lurks here, to be sure. Isn’t the condemnation of beliefs or practices deemed intolerant itself a rejection of beliefs or practices to which others adhere? Pressed, this interpretation risks dissolving “toleration” into the proposition that “we should put up with all manner of diverse beliefs and practices—except for those that fundamentally disagree with our own.”56 But in practice, it seems, this paradox can easily be overlooked by those who proudly self-identify as proponents of tolerance. And hence, ironically, a commitment to tolerance can supply a justification for the massive marginalization or sanctioning of people whose beliefs or practices disagree with those of “tolerant” elites.

  As I write, this logic of intolerant tolerance is at work in epidemic proportions. As noted already, the logic informs large swaths of public discourse, as advocates accuse and seek to marginalize their adversaries for ostensible bigotry or intolerance. The logic enters into law as well. Tolerance is invoked by high-minded judges, without any apparent sense of irony, as a justification for imposing heavy sanctions on the photographer or florist or baker who is religiously opposed to servicing and celebrating a same-sex wedding.57 An otherwise exemplary fire chief is dismissed from his job for self-publishing a Sunday school manual containing a section teaching traditional biblical sexual morality, which is deemed intolerant.58 Legislators advocate cutting off state funding for religious universities that do not accept the prevailing “tolerant” orthodoxy supporting same-sex marriage.59 Instances proliferate.

  In an important sense, this policy of intolerant tolerance parallels the approach of ancient Rome to religious diversity. As we saw in chapter 6, Roman authorities could accept all manner of religious cults and deities, so long as the adherents were willing to sacrifice to the deified Caesars and to have their deities enrolled in the pantheon along with the other gods. To the Romans, this appeared to be a reasonable, reciprocal, “live and let live” approach: we’ll accept your god if you’ll accept ours. To monotheistic Christians and Jews, by contrast, the proposition came across very differently: we’ll accept your religion if you’ll in effect renounce it in favor of the kind of polytheistic religion we favor. In a similar way, contemporary progressive tolerance is happy to respect any number of different religious views—so long, that is, as they do not actually proclaim their own truth and hence, expressly or by implication, the error of contrary views.

  But if modern progressive paganism runs parallel to the Roman approach to religious diversity, the potential repressiveness today is significantly greater in at least two respects than it was in antiquity. First, ancient paganism mostly prescribed outward behaviors—sacrifices to the gods, for example—but cared little for what a person thought or felt.60 Christianity, by contrast, was deeply interested in what was in a person’s mind and heart; lustful desires were condemned along with actual adultery, and hateful feelings and words were deplored in the same way that actual violence was.61 This is a feature of Christianity that modern paganism seems to have incorporated wholeheartedly; it is severely censorious not just of antisocial actions but also of what it perceives as racist or sexist or homophobic attitudes or expressions. Remember Memories Pizza.62

  Second, the class of people and institutions deemed “intolerant,” and hence intolerable, is likely much larger today than it was in the Roman era. For the most part, the Romans managed to reach a modus vivendi accommodating the Jews (although, as noted, there were occasional horrific exceptions).63 The primary conflict was with Christians, who represented a novel religion with relatively few adherents, even into the fourth century. Today, by contrast, it is public paganism that is the newly emerging force, in opposition to adherents of Christianity or traditional religion who have in one degree or another constituted a sizable portion of the population. Hence the scope of conflict and potential repression is much larger than it was in antiquity.

  Laycock’s Question Revisited. Which brings us back to one of our initial questions—the one to which we gave only half an answer in the preceding chapter. Why do the proponents of a familiar antidiscrimination agenda insist on suing marriage counselors who object on religious grounds to counseling same-sex couples and wedding photographers and florists who object to serving same-sex weddings—even when these professionals’ goods and services are available elsewhere, and even when no same-sex couple would actually want to receive counseling or service from such persons? Douglas Laycock and others say that the activists are attempting not so much to gain a needed remedy as to drive these traditionally religious people out of business.64 Perhaps, but why?

  While advocates describe the possibility of material harm in some circumstances, in other contexts they are sometimes explicit in explaining that the suits are not about the denials of services per se.65 There are, after all, plenty of other photographers, florists, and bakers. And in any case, the damages for this type of marketplace injury would usually be de minimus—perhaps for the time and expense of calling up another photographer, florist, or baker.66 The injury, rather, comes from the message implicit or perhaps explicit in the denial of services; the injury is the affront to the “dignity” of the same-sex would-be customers or clients.67 As Douglas NeJaime and Reva Siegel argue, refusals of service “address third parties as sinners in ways that can stigmatize and demean.” For example, a pharmacist who objects to filling a prescription for contraceptives conveys a message that “he deems [the use of contraceptives] ‘wrong’ or ‘a sin.’ ”68

  This logic is understandable, and plausible; it is also ominous. Once the distinction is made between the denial of services per se and the message sent, it would seem to follow that the actual denial of services is merely incidental: the message would inflict similar injury even if conveyed in some other (perhaps more explicit) way. And indeed, this corollary is entirely plausible. To be sure, a refusal to serve someone may be an especially vivid or painful form of delivering the message. Or maybe not: in some instances, providers have attempted to be delicate and respectful in expressing their religious reservations,69 whereas some nonprovider expressions can be extremely caustic and confrontational. Think of the Westboro Baptists,70 for example.

  In any case, the same logic that says the offended customer suffers an injury to his or her “dignity” when a professional declines services on religious grounds—because of the implicit message that the customer’s conduct is “wrong” or “a sin”—would suggest that the speaker who advocates a “comprehensive doctrine” condemning (as “wrong” or “a sin”) homosexual conduct or same-sex marriage inflicts the same type of injury to personal dignity. Ultimately, in fact, it is not merely the overt expression of the offending view that inflicts injury, but rather the fact that someone holds the offending view and is known to hold it.71 In the Proposition 8 case, federal judge Vaughn Walker said as much: he issued a “finding of fact” asserting that “religious beliefs that gay and lesbian relationships are sinful or inferior to heterosexual relationships harm gays and lesbians.”72

  The judge did not actually rule that lawsuits or prosecutions should be permitted against churches or individuals merely for holding these harmful beliefs. Nor does it seem likely that such suits or prosecutions will be authorized in the foreseeable future. Judge Walker’s “finding of fact” nonetheless reflects a fundamental tension in the modern pagan city and a fundamental obstacle to the realization of its vision of community. As we saw in chapter 6, one understandable reason that pagans might resent Christians was that Christianity imposed, morally if not legally, severe restrictions on people’s freedom—their sexual freedom, their freedom to live according to whatever values or goals they might prefer. Even insofar as Christianity did not legally restrict conduct, its moral condemnation could be perceived as a kind of assault on the dignity and moral worth of people who chose to reject Christian standards. The same is true today.

  Is true a fortiori, in fact.
At least through the end of the third century, after all, Christianity was a marginal and politically impotent faith, condemned by the authorities and rejected or ignored by the vast majority of Roman subjects. So the injury inflicted on pagans by Christian moral censure was arguably de minimis. Today the situation is utterly different. Christianity has provided the regulative ideal for centuries (even if that ideal has never actually been realized, even approximately). Christianity has been in a sense the dominant regime against which non-Christian dissenters like Gibbon and Hume and Voltaire and Mill have had to assert their independence. Its sexual norms were embodied in law, as we saw in chapter 10, into the 1950s, even into the 1970s.73 Its strictures are thus more real and forceful, less easy to ignore, and arguably more injurious to dignity than they were in late antiquity. And this makes the active or open presence of Christian ideals in the public space more troublesome and threatening than those ideals might have been in the first, second, and third centuries.

  So it is understandable why activists and litigants would want to drive overtly Christian employers and professionals out of the public square and the public marketplace. Their goods and services may or may not be needed, but their message is a standing affront to dignity, and their presence is an irritant and an insult to the kind of community to which modern progressive pagans aspire.

  More generally, as in the ancient city, citizens with commitments to strong versions of Christianity or other truth-oriented faiths are today a foreign and divisive element in the city of “modern paganism.” Now, as then, devout Christians do not accept the city’s terms of cooperation—terms that require citizens to check their religious beliefs at the door before entering the civic sphere. Their commitment to particularistic or “sectarian” versions of the Truth, and their attempts to bring such Truth into the public square, threaten and disrupt the “overlapping consensus” and the mutually respectful deliberation and communion that Rawls and like-minded citizens seek to achieve.