Sharia and the Weberian State

The brouhaha raised in Britain over the Archbishop of Canterbury’s suggestion that sharia law be partially legitimized has exposed the statism at the core of secularism and the fragility of the truce that traditional cultures have made with one another through liberalism. Secularist peace comes at the price of ethnic and religious identity; man is freed from his church and neighbor only to be enslaved by the state, which claims unlimited jurisdiction over civil society.

Several forces combined to create the excessive reaction to Archbishop Rowan Williams’ comments. First, sharia itself is popularly demonized as being brutal or barbaric, in the sense of endorsing draconian violence and not respecting liberal ideals regarding gender equality, apparently forgetting that these are less than a century old, and we can hardly expect all rational people to share our arbitrary mores. This line of criticism ignores the fact that Dr. Williams only proposed applying sharia in the way that Jewish courts are applied to financial and marital contracts, as a civil arbitration agreed to by both parties, so there is no question of coercion. Further, as Dr. Williams points out, sharia is not a monolithic system of law, but a method of jurisprudence applicable only to Muslims who voluntarily submit to the law, so it is not incompatible with pluralism.

Another point of criticism is found in the Archbishop’s astonishing statement that for citizens “to be under the rule of the uniform law of a sovereign state” with all other commitments being private in character “is a very unsatisfactory account of political reality in modern societies.” He attacks the heart of liberal political theory, which takes pride in equality before the law, without regard for personality. Before the so-called Enlightenment, political philosophy was more sophisticated on this point, recognizing that laws ought to be tailored to local circumstances and customs, and that there is no one-size-fits-all system of government or law. This political wisdom was retained in the federal system of the United States in the nineteenth century, though this was gradually undermined in favor of a European model of increased centralization. The centralized state had expanded at the expense of local government and civil society long before the French Revolution; indeed, the revolutionaries simply inherited the marvelous administrative apparatus of the ancien regime. As liberal democracy spread, clerical and aristocratic privileges were abolished, so all political power was consolidated in the state. In the process, the state acquired powers historically foreign to it, including the regulation of marriage and private financial matters.

These historical developments have led to a profoundly statist European culture that views any attempt by businesses, churches, or other institutions to assert their legal independence as cause for alarm. In the case of churches, a panic over theocracy arises whenever a church refuses to submit to the generic morality of the state. Such fears are thoroughly irrational, as the state, being far more powerful than any church, is a far greater threat to liberty than any ecclesiastical bogeymen. The masses flee the supposed tyranny of traditional institutions to labor under the much heavier yoke of modern government, which levies higher taxes than any ancient tyrant ever dared, and claims unlimited jurisdiction over all human affairs. This idolatrous concept of the state, circumscribed by neither natural nor divine law, was candidly described by Max Weber as the monopolization of the legitimate use of force, and of lawmaking. Today, the Weberian state so jealously guards its monopoly over violence, that it would pretend to have authority to decide whether parents may spank their children. Where one stands on such an issue is only of secondary importance; what matters is that the state actually claims the right to decide the issue, as for all human affairs. The state alone can coerce; the state alone can demand obedience, while other institutions only meekly request it of their members.

In the United States and much of the Americas, statist tendencies are checked by a robust cultural heritage of limited government, but in most of Western Europe, including Britain, statism is conventional wisdom. Indeed, the more stridently secularist parties tend to have the firmest conviction that the state ought to have plenary jurisdiction over civil society. The fatal mistake of statist liberalism is to mistake democracy as the basis of liberty, when the real basis of liberty is limited government. A state with absolute sovereignty is just as tyrannical whether it is monarchically or democratically constituted.

Rowan Williams has touched a sore nerve by pointing out that liberal democracy contradicts its promise of tolerance and multiculturalism by insisting on a uniform rule of law, without regard for what is reasonable in specific cultural contexts. By doing so, liberal governments deny many groups “the right to speak in their own voice”, as when they pass laws and rulings that admit no exception for religious conscience, defining their secularist views (often a minority opinion!) as the basis for what is reasonable, coherent and acceptable. It would seem they do not despise tyranny so much as they prefer their own sort of tyranny.

Archbishop Williams did not dare to suggest that the state’s sovereignty be circumscribed, but only proposed that people may voluntarily submit to other sources of authority. He is not ready to abandon the Weberian state, but even the concession that there should be any human authority besides the state is too much for many secularists to bear, even though in fact Britain already allows civil arbitration by religious courts. Hatred of religion is strong enough in some to make them forget their contempt of bureaucrats and strenuously endorse the monopoly of the state.

Just as the Romans subverted all local cultures and religions by including foreign gods in the Roman pantheon and requiring only that Caesar be worshipped universally, so too does liberalism undermine the freedom of local culture, as witnessed by the devastation of French and Italian rural cultures, replacing them with an increasingly amorphous, bland consumerism. The great paradox of the Enlightenment is that supposed political liberty has led to cultural homogenization, masked by a bewildering diversity of consumer goods. This is because the only social mores that are enforceable are those of the state. With the magnitude of modern states, an individual’s vote counts for practically nothing, and in fact he can do little to alter the bureaucratic system in which he is enmeshed. He is nominally a citizen, but practically a subject, and if he calls himself an atheist, he should be humbled to learn he is no less a slave of Caesar than the most superstitious pagan.

In addition to the issues raised by Dr. Williams, sharia presents a special challenge to the West in that it does not recognize a neat distinction between religious and civil law (a medieval European development), much less a Weberian concept of the state and civil society. In Islam, society is an integrated whole. One does not need to share this holistic view of society to present a stumbling block to the liberal model; one only needs social principles at odds with those of the liberal state. The social peace of liberalism is a sort of devil’s peace where all one’s enemies are dead or enslaved, as all institutions are silent before the overwhelming force of the state (or more realistically, the state and its friends in the private sector). The Weberian state can make life materially pleasant, but woe to the one who conscientiously prefers a distinct set of social principles, not to be relegated to the ghetto of “private” activity.

Reactionary Progressives

In a scene straight from the nineteenth century, some leftist intellectuals declared a “settimana anticlericale” in protest of Pope Benedict’s proposed visit to La Sapienza university. Seemingly unaware of any anachronism, the proponents of this “anticlerical week” resorted to tired agitprop tactics, trotting out the same rhetoric against ecclesiastical tyranny that is so woefully out of touch with the benign papacy of Benedict XVI.

As the extreme left has been reduced to fabricating controversy in order to justify their anti-Catholic prejudice, the putative cause of outrage in this instance is an earlier comment by the Pope, dredged up from years earlier, to the effect that the Galileo trial was “reasonable and just.” These men of science, mostly physicists, who claim to advocate critical thinking, neglected to note that then-Cardinal Ratzinger was quoting an agnostic philosopher, the Austrian Paul Feyerband, in the context of examining several different philosopher’s perspectives on Galileo. The erudite Ratzinger is capable of far more sophisticated treatment of differing opinions than these self-appointed apostles of enlightenment, who react with knee-jerk advocacy, and laughably still espouse a “warfare hypothesis” interpretation of the Galileo trial that all serious historians have long abandoned.

The Enlightenment exhausted its philosophical possibilities decades ago, as evidenced by the strange paradox of eminent scientists immersed in nineteenth-century materialist philosophy, anticlericalism, and a puerile understanding of history as a conflict between “religion” and “science,” as though these were discrete, exclusive entities. How ironic that this ignorance should manifest itself in a university founded by a pope seven hundred years ago, when the Church was the sole institution that took any interest in fostering science. Aside from preserving practically everything we know of our classical heritage, and supporting most scholarly endeavors in Europe through the seventeenth century, the Church did nothing for science. The leftist faculty and students at La Sapienza could hardly be more decrepit if they called themselves Marxists and wore unkempt beards, as they are still fighting battles of a hundred years ago, apparently unaware of how the Church has long since risen above them. I have always found it curious how the term “reactionary” is reserved for conservative elements, when it is abundantly clear that much of the thinking on the far left is purely a reaction out of knee-jerk antipathy toward ecclesiastical institutions. The Enlightenment was supposed to raise mankind to adulthood, but instead it has yielded a culture that is thoroughly adolescent.

The Reluctant Saint

The rush to canonize Mother Teresa of Calcutta ought to be reconsidered, if only to provide time to distinguish popular perceptions from reality. Both supporters and opponents of her canonization often operate from mistaken understandings of the nature of her work and her interior life. Without prejudging the question of her sainthood, we should set the relevant facts straight so that the subject considered is the real person, not popular myth.

The most striking contrast between perception and reality concerns the nature of Mother Teresa’s vocation among the poor. Contrary to their name, the Missionaries of Charity are not a charity in the common sense. They have no infrastructure to adequately feed, clothe, house, or otherwise materially help the poor. They do not provide disaster relief, nor do they found hospices. Their ministry to the poor is almost entirely spiritual, with only minimal material aid. This can be seen most notably in their care for the dying. Those who are not admitted to hospitals receive palliative care from the sisters, inadequate to the task of healing, but sufficient to prepare for death. In some cases, care involves little more than the comfort of dying in the presence of a human face. This may not be what many people consider the most effective form of helping the poor, but there are other organizations to provide material relief, whereas Mother Teresa had a spiritual vocation, insisting she was not a social worker. One might as well fault the police department for failing to put out fires as accuse the Missionaries of Charity of neglecting the material needs of the poor. Even less pertinent is the well-worn criticism that their upholding of Church teaching on contraception and abortion opposed the interests of the poor, as if these practices were a social panacea. The eugenic solution to poverty is not morally obligatory.

Be that as it may, the Missionaries of Charity have received tens of millions of dollars, including many donations from people who believe the order to have the mission of providing substantial material relief. Given this wealth of resources and the donors’ intent, it is arguable that the order is obligated to direct these funds to provide material aid to the poor, if not directly, then by redirecting funds to an organization equipped to do so. While there are no accusations of corruption, there is the possibility of negligence by allowing donations to accumulate without any plan for their use.

The second area of profound contrast between perception and reality concerns Mother Teresa’s spiritual life. Here we must tread carefully, for the real person appears to be an amalgam of the external persona and the troubled soul revealed in her letters, rather than one over the other.

If one were to judge solely from her most despairing letters, we would conclude that Mother Teresa was weak in faith, doubting God’s presence when she was denied overt spiritual consolations. This sense of darkness or divine absence dated from the 1940s, when she left her convent to follow her special vocation to help the poor. Deprived of the consolations of life in her convent and perhaps hopeful that the spiritual experience of her divine calling would be followed by a life of special consolations such as those known by contemplatives, she was faced with the barren horror of poverty and despair without any consoling angels to strengthen her. Then she spoke of God as one who is absent, her soul as filled with darkness, and at times even questioning the basic propositions of the faith: the presence of God, the existence of the soul, the fidelity of Christ.

It is arrant sophistry to suggest that these doubts are signs of great faith. The illogical idea that doubt is essential to faith comes from existential Protestant thinkers and is foreign to the Catholic and Orthodox traditions. As Cardinal Newman said, to hold a dogma subject to question is to have already lost the faith. Mother Teresa herself plainly admitted at many times to have had “no faith”. This is a serious condition, incompatible with the state of grace. It goes beyond the sorrows of the saints in the absence of spiritual consolation, the so-called “dark night of the soul.” It is one thing to feel abandoned by God, and quite another to lose faith in His Providence. Doubting the faith is not an example for Christians to live by; Mother Teresa herself knew this, so she kept these letters secret and asked that they be destroyed.


As grave as this interior darkness may be, it is not the entire story of Mother Teresa’s spiritual life. Her own statements and those of her closest confidants, including those aware of her secret struggles, attest clearly to many acts of faith, whether in prayers of gratitude for divine blessings, teaching sisters to love Christ, and above all, scrupulously obeying the demands of the faith. It is in this last aspect of her life that Mother Teresa’s greatest merit is to be found, for she always obeyed, even when she was in internal turmoil. Thus her definitive acts of volition were those of faith, as her doubts were never strong enough to sway her from her vocation. While external acts do not compensate for lack of faith, her testimony and that of her confidants give numerous examples of a simple, certain faith that she held throughout life, though not unfailingly.

The real Mother Teresa is a complex character with a vocation quite different from her popular image. Before deciding whether she is the sort of character to be counted among the canonical saints, we should be clear about our subject, and not mythologize her into a person of unfailing faith, nor misconstrue her mission as simple philanthropy.