Mike has a really nice post below criticizing the refusal of the Church of England to overturn the 1701 law which prohibits an heir from marrying a Catholic. I appreciate the sentiment very much -- it seems, somehow, wrong that Catholics are discriminated against in this way. It seems unfair, unequal. I don't share the view that there is something inherently wrong with established churches writ large (though of course I think there is something wrong with them in this country), but I think Mike rightly laments the regrettable anti-Catholic "vestiges" of the Anglican Church.
But whatever one may say about the 1701 law's beginnings, maybe today the law is just fine. Given the cultural history of the Anglican Church, I think it would be quite wrong for a Catholic to want to be head of the Church of England, or married to the head. To assume that position would be to ignore the history of the Anglican Church, and all that it meant for Catholicism in England, just for the sake of gaining a kind of formally equal footing with everyone else. As a Catholic, I'm delighted to be unequal, discriminated against, on this ground. I have no business there. It isn't only that this isn't the sort of discrimination that ought to be concerning. More than that, this sort of discrimination and inequality -- today -- may well be a positive good. It is a reminder and reinforcement of cultural, historical, and religious difference and separateness.
Equalization here would disturb that difference in a way that, to put the matter perhaps slightly bluntly, is a betrayal of the past. If this law prevents the Catholic who would be king from even considering it, might we not say, 'so much the better'?
Over at Public Discourse, Matthew Franck has posted an essay lamenting King & Spalding's decision to withdraw from its defense of DOMA (discussed on MoJ here and here). He writes:
[I]ntimidation—“mau-mauing the flak-catchers,” Tom Wolfe memorably called it—is now the default tactic of same-sex marriage advocates. What else, for instance, explains the antics of now-retired federal judge Vaughn Walker, who wanted to broadcast the Proposition 8 trial in California, and then broke his promise—and his legal duty—to keep the trial’s video record from public view? What else explains the instantaneous denunciation of all opponents of same-sex marriage as “haters”? Resistance to such intimidation, in the name of the ethic of institutional integrity, is fast becoming the duty of all persons in positions of institutional responsibility, whatever their private views on homosexuality or same-sex marriage. When we witness such principled resistance, as in the case of Dean Evan Caminker’s decision to stick with Ohio Senator and alumnus Rob Portman as the commencement speaker at the University of Michigan’s law school—despite the outcry of those who object to Portman’s 1996 vote for DOMA as a House member—we should applaud it heartily.
Yes, we should applaud institutional resistance to intimidation heartily, but I think we need to pause and acknowledge that maintaining institutional openness to both sides of the SSM debate depends on a substantive analysis of that debate and an ability / willingness to distinguish it from other civil rights debates. Sometimes we applaud when institutional legitimacy has been withheld from positions that were once deemed plausible, even mainstream. Today we would not as readily embrace a law firm that devotes its time (especially at a discounted billing rate) to defending the constitutionality of an anti-miscegenation law, nor would we deem prudent a law school's decision to invite David Duke to serve as its commencement speaker, even if he was an alum. My point is not that inviting Rob Portman to speak is the same as inviting David Duke to speak; my point is that we need to be able to explain the difference in terms that are accessible to, and that resonate with, institutions; this is no easy task, for (most) institutions have a hard time engaging with moral norms beyond those of nondiscrimination and individual liberty.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Just as one should for every couple on their wedding day, I hope and pray that Prince William and Kate Middleton have many years of happy marriage ahead, and, of course, one must admire the grace and dignity with which the Queen has carried out her duties for almost 60 years. (I should add on a personal note that my wife--by coincidence of her place of birth--is a British citizen.) But the Church of England's reported veto of proposed reforms to the 1701 Act of Settlement (which prohibits an heir to the throne from marrying a Catholic) is a sad reminder that there are still vestiges of institutionalized anti-Catholicism in the United Kingdom--even if one is willing to accept that part of the reason is a merely constitutional complication of the monarch being head of an established church. Damian Thompson has a post here. Austin Ivereigh has a measured assessment of the whole controversy:
A Catholic king could hardly appoint bishops to the established Church. But look at what is assumed in the statement: that the King or Queen remains the Supreme Governor of the Church of England. Established church, Protestant state: take away one thread, and the whole unravels. And that is why we cannot have a conversation, in modern Britain, about a church which is separate from the state, and a monarchy whose members are able to exercise freedom of religion.
Does this matter? On principle, yes: state-sponsored sectarianism is ugly, and as Catholics it's hard not to feel a little disenfranchised when, on days such as tomorrow, we realise the profound anti-Catholic bias on which our state is erected. But it's not just about how Catholics feel. It is surely unhealthy to have our politicians and church leaders confess they are powerless to address iniquities because of fear of what might lie beyond.