Commentary: Lay, government, lay

With religious leaders feeling their oats and a pro-Church party in power, the push for injecting religion into government isn't letting up. The following lightly abridged opinion piece could have been written yesterday, but it appeared in the Herald Mexico on February 19, 2006. At the time, Vicente Fox was president and Carlos Abascal was Interior (Gobernación) secretary. Abascal, along with Fox and lame-duck PAN party leader Manuel Espino, is still a key figure in the PAN's religious-right faction.

Have Faith, Will Govern
BY KELLY ARTHUR GARRETT

Not many of social and cultural critic Carlos Monsiváis’s observations over the decades have had more impact than his January 31 warning about new fissures in Mexico’s already-cracked wall between church and state. Red flags about this have been going up with increasing frequency since Vicente Fox and the National Action Party (PAN) re-introduced religion as a governing posture, if not tool. But Monsivais’s speech marked a turning point in the escalating battle.

One reason Monsiváis’s own red flag is getting more attention than others’ is because it was raised rather unexpectedly as the major theme of his acceptance speech after receiving one of the few literary prizes he hadn’t already claimed, the National Award for Literature. What’s more, the speech was delivered at Los Pinos during a gala awards ceremony attended by President Fox himself (who showed his own knack for barbed rejoinders by closing the festivities with, “God bless you”).

Another reason is that Monsiváis named names. The name he spent the most time on was none other then Carlos Abascal, the former labor secretary whom Fox selected to close out the sexenio as Interior (Gobernación) Secretary after Santiago Creel resigned to run for president.

Monsiváis indicted Abascal not so much based on his (and many other panistas’) activism on specific issues like the morning-after pill, but on his more far-reaching philosophical statements that reveal a decidedly theological approach to organizing the state.


Monsiváis also has cited Abascal’s contributing role in his father’s 1997 book skewering Benito Juárez as the original cause of such atrocities as civil marriage, tolerance of protestant sects, and the advent of public lay schools (or in the senior Abascal’s words, the “terrorism” of “atheist education”).

In his Los Pinos speech, Monsiváis focused on Abascal’s statement a few days earlier at something called the World Ethical Forum. Abascal’s words, translated: “It is necessary to reclaim ... religion as the space for promoting the link between the human being and his transcendent destiny, in order to give meaning to the ethical values that comprise his daily life.”

Not without good reason, Monsiváis finds it disturbing that a high government official considers it “necessary” to promote religion as the basis for deciding what’s ethically appropriate. Of course, many people do base their ethical judgments exclusively on religion, or think they do. But they’re not in charge of the internal policies of a constitutionally secular government. Abascal is.

Abascal’s substantive defense was that he was misunderstood: “What I said is that in the ethical formation of its citizens, it’s important for the state to turn to all its sources of strength — the family, the schools, business, political leaders, and the churches.” In interviews, the secretary stressed that he had no intention of undermining the nation’s traditional church-state separation, and that indeed he’d done plenty to ensure that the clergy stays out of politics.

Monsiváis wasn’t buying it. “He cites what he didn’t say to respond to criticism of what he did say,” he said. “What he said is that only religion gives meaning to ethical values.”

Abascal’s political defense was less conciliatory: “I respect those fundamentalists who accuse me of fundamentalism.”

The implication was that Monsiváis, in criticizing Abascal, was being intolerant — if not of religion itself, then of those who hold views about it differing from his. The Catholic Church leadership, in one of its publications, quickly backed up Abascal, accusing Monsiváis of “trying to lock the clergy back in the cloister.”

Monsiváis clearly meant no such thing, but the counterattack was still an effective move, right out of the Karl Rove playbook. Turn the tables on your opponent by attacking his strength with a catchy soundbite. It doesn’t matter if the accusation is ludicrous, such as putting a “fundamentalist” label on a defender of religious freedom. What matters is changing the terms of the debate.

But Monsiváis seems to be less interested in winning small political battles as he is in re-energizing respect for what a secular state really means. It’s not a mere negative, the absence of religious establishment. Rather, it’s a positive statement of a people’s commitment to free inquiry, individual rights, religious freedom, and democratic government.

In his acceptance speech, Monsiváis paid homage to that commitment, and those from previous generations who “bequeathed us their faith in reason, their exercise of freedom of expression and belief, their extraordinary creative powers, their love of culture, art and science, and their humanistic and democratic impulses.”

Some wonder if Monsiváis and others aren’t overreacting. Mexico’s laicismo wasn’t decreed by founding fathers; it was fought for over several bloody decades. That high price helped establish it all the more firmly in Mexico’s political tradition, and it’s doubtful that a minority of politicians could succeed it toppling it.

Perhaps. But turn on CNN. The world is hardly racing in the right direction. And here in Mexico there’s no doubt that some people in high places see no harm and much benefit in squeezing religion into the halls of government. That, Monsiváis is saying, is a threat, even if they ultimately fail.

For Mexico to advance, secular government can’t just survive. It needs to thrive.