Act of supremacy

Does the Pope really care if he snubs Rowan Williams?

"The Pope -- how many divisions does he have?" is the dismissive question Stalin is said to have asked an adviser. An awful lot more than the Archbishop of Canterbury, is the answer that comes to mind after Rowan Williams's brief audience with the pontiff in Rome this weekend. The Pope may have given Dr Williams a pectoral cross, which, as Ruth Gledhill noted in the Times, was "an indication that he recognises his episcopacy -- in spite of a 19th-century papal bull under which Anglican orders are deemed 'absolutely null and utterly void' ", but the meeting was very short -- only 20 minutes -- and the Archbishop's claim that the Pope was "extremely enthusiastic about the next stage in ecumenical dialogue" seemed a little hollow, given that the Roman Catholic hierarchy in England and Wales is now setting up a "task force" to welcome what it assumes will be tens of thousands of disaffected Anglicans.

Dr Williams gave an interview to the Financial Times on Saturday, in which the writer noted that he is "the senior bishop of the 77 million-strong Anglican Communion". I think this was expected to convey what a large number of followers he leads. What struck me, however, was how small the figure was. The population of Britain is expected to reach that number this century, but this is a total for Anglicans worldwide. Compare that with well over a billion Catholics who, moreover, follow what the philosopher Daniel Dennett would call a more "costly" faith -- that is to say, one that makes greater requirements of its adherents. And as he noted in his 2006 book, Breaking the Spell: Religion as a Natural Phenomenon: "The more you have invested in your religion, the more you will be motivated to protect that investment."

Everyone is always in favour of ecumenism. Who wouldn't be? Isn't it all about seeing what people have in common, being friendly, coming together -- no doubt "very prayerfully"? But in this case it is difficult to see what Anglicans stand to gain from such an approach, which seems overwhelmingly one-sided. And there will always be the thought for Catholics, perhaps not stated, but still present, somewhere at the back of the mind, that the ultimate goal of ecumenism with Anglicans is for the Church of England to return to Rome. Only two years ago, after all, the Vatican produced a document in which it said that Protestant and Orthodox faiths were "not proper churches".

This caused some (understandable) embarrassment and indignation to those busy with ecumenical projects. But I rather enjoyed the more forthright response of the Rev David Phillips, general secretary of the Church Society:

"We are grateful that the Vatican has once again been honest in declaring their view that the Church of England is not a proper Church. Too much dialogue proceeds without such honesty," he said. "In their view . . . to be a true church one has to accept the ludicrous idea that the Pope is in some special way the successor of the apostle Peter and the supreme earthly leader of the Church. These claims cannot be justified, biblically, or historically, yet they have been used not only to divide Christians, but to persecute them and put them to death."

Not very diplomatic, but he made his point. In contrast, a couple of weeks ago I attended a seminar Dr Williams gave at the Royal Society of Arts in conjunction with the Tony Blair Faith Foundation. The Archbishop was eloquent, erudite, humble and inspiring. But perhaps he should take heed of his own words. At one point he defined "disagreement" as being "the willingness to have arguments with respect". Pectoral cross or not, it doesn't sound to me as though Dr Williams and his church are getting much in the way of respect from the current Pope. In which case, making a rather firmer statement of "disagreement" might not be a bad idea.

We may not be talking about divisions yet, but Pope Benedict's tanks are clearly parked on the lawns at Lambeth Palace. His Grace shouldn't let his natural politeness stop him demanding their removal.

 

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Sholto Byrnes is a Contributing Editor to the New Statesman
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How to think about the EU result if you voted Remain

A belief in democracy means accepting the crowd is wiser than you are as an individual. 

I voted Remain, I feel sick about this result and its implications for what’s to come. But I’m a believer in democracy. This post is about how to reconcile those two things (it’s a bit unstructured because I’m working it out as I go, and I’m not sure I agree with all of it).

Democracy isn’t just fairer than other systems of governance, it’s smarter. It leads to better decisions and better outcomes, on average and over the long run, than countries that are run by autocrats or councils of wise men with jobs for life. It is simply the best way we have yet devised of solving complex problems involving many people. On that topic, if you’re not averse to some rather dense and technical prose, read this post or seek out this book. But the central argument is that democracy is the best way of harnessing ‘cognitive diversity’ — bringing to bear many different perspectives on a problem, each of which are very partial in themselves, but add up to something more than any one wise person.

I don’t think you can truly be a believer in democracy unless you accept that the people, collectively, are smarter than you are. That’s hard. It’s easy to say you believe in the popular will, right up until the popular will does something REALLY STUPID. The hard thing is not just to ‘accept the result’ but to accept that the majority who voted for that result know or understand something better than you. But they do. You are just one person, after all, and try as you might to expand your perspective with reading (and some try harder than others) you can’t see everything. So if a vote goes against you, you need to reflect on the possibility you got it wrong in some way. If I look at the results of past general elections and referendums, for instance, I now see they were all pretty much the right calls, including those where I voted the other way.

One way to think about the vote is that it has forced a slightly more equitable distribution of anxiety and alienation upon the country. After Thursday, I feel more insecure about my future, and that of my family. I also feel like a foreigner in my own country — that there’s this whole massive swathe of people out there who don’t think like me at all and probably don’t like me. I feel like a big decision about my life has been imposed on me by nameless people out there. But of course, this is exactly how many of those very people have been feeling for years, and at a much higher level of intensity. Democracy forces us to try on each other’s clothes. I could have carried on quite happily ignoring the unhappiness of much of the country but I can’t ignore this.

I’m seeing a lot of people on Twitter and in the press bemoaning how ill-informed people were, talking about a ‘post-factual democracy’. Well, maybe, though I think that requires further investigation - democracy has always been a dirty dishonest business. But surely the great thing about Thursday that so many people voted — including many, many people who might have felt disenfranchised from a system that hasn’t been serving them well. I’m not sure you’re truly a democrat if you don’t take at least a tiny bit of delight in seeing people so far from the centres of power tipping the polity upside down and giving it a shake. Would it have been better or worse for the country if Remain had won because only informed middle-class people voted? It might have felt better for people like me, it might actually have been better, economically, for everyone. But it would have indicated a deeper rot in our democracy than do the problems with our national information environment (which I accept are real).

I’m not quite saying ‘the people are always right’ — at least, I don’t think it was wrong to vote to stay in the EU. I still believe we should have Remained and I’m worried about what we’ve got ourselves into by getting out. But I am saying they may have been right to use this opportunity — the only one they were given — to send an unignorable signal to the powers-that-be that things aren’t working. You might say general elections are the place for that, but our particular system isn’t suited to change things on which there is a broad consensus between the two main parties.

Ian Leslie is a writer, author of CURIOUS: The Desire to Know and Why Your Future Depends On It, and writer/presenter of BBC R4's Before They Were Famous.