Tuesday 16 July 2013

"Not In Its Prince Bishops"?

Well, we all know where had Prince Bishops, Giles Fraser:

"It's not like this in Winchester," David tells me as he wanders round my parish. "No shit, Sherlock," I think to myself, uncharitably. David is in his first year of PPE at Oxford and has come on placement to learn a bit about community organising and, specifically, whether community organising techniques can be used to address the trouble caused by those terrible pay-day loan companies to whom so many of my parishioners owe money.

I hate those places. The other week, they were handing out balloons to children in Brixton. It's such a manipulative business – with a 5,000% interest rate as the sting in the tail. Really, Newcastle United football club ought to be ashamed to have Wonga as their sponsor.

Preaching last Sunday, David reminded us that the prophet Nehemiah had a massive sense of humour failure over Jews charging fellow Jews a measly 1% interest rate:

"We have had to borrow money to pay the king's tax on our fields and vineyards. Although we are of the same flesh and blood as our fellow Jews and though our children are as good as theirs, yet we have to subject our sons and daughters to slavery. Some of our daughters have already been enslaved, but we are powerless, because our fields and our vineyards belong to others."

In response, Nehemiah made himself a total pain, "gathered together a large meeting" and badgered the authorities until they promised to stop exploiting the poor. I guess this is now called community organising. 

Saul Alinsky is widely credited with inventing the term in the 50s. Like Nehemiah, he too was a Jew with attitude, despairing of mainstream politics and encouraging people to recognise that, when they got themselves organised, they could effect considerable change without having to go through the traditional channels of a political system that would so often sell them out in back-room deals and compromises.

For Alinsky, community organising is dedicated to an "eternal warfare … against poverty, misery, delinquency, disease, injustice, hopelessness, despair, and unhappiness".

His Rules for Radicals, published in 1971, was a how-to primer of social change, describing some very practical tactics of applying grassroots political pressure – not least, through the choice of a common enemy against whom a community can unite, and the continual application of pressure.

For Alinsky, the preferred battle-ground is always chaos, and the disruption of established assumptions about the way things ought to be. He has been described as doing for the poor what Machiavelli did for the princes.

The US right is often reminding its base that Barack Obama is a dangerous radical because he learned his politics through community organising in Chicago. Obama's chief fixer, Rahm Emanuel, was speaking straight out of the Alinsky handbook when he spoke of never allowing "a good crisis go to waste".

Though an atheist himself, Alinsky regarded faith-based groups as at the heart of community organising. And it is no coincidence that this country's largest such group, Citizens UK, works particularly in and through the churches, mosques and synagogues. For congregations – when properly organised – are exactly the sort of purpose-driven, value-laden communities that Alinsky believed to be the prime movers of grassroots social change.

Yet despite the fact that this model has its modern advocates – and Lord Glasman comes especially to mind – it is hard to think that the Church of England, with its establishment connections and unshakable belief in the redeeming power of tea and Battenberg, will ever fully step up to the plate.

Or maybe the takeaway point here is that the power of the church lies not in its prince bishops but in its congregations – even, possibly, in Winchester.

Winchester, like Durham, is one of the five Sees to enjoy an automatic seat in the House of Lords, rather than being dependent on the relative "seniority" (length of service) of the occupant.

That House lately gave an unopposed Third Reading, which it gives to most things, to the Bill abolishing marriage and replacing it with something else entirely, but under the same name.

Giles Fraser is at least nominally in favour of the principle of that change, although no sane person could be in favour of the specific legislation.

But the Lords Spiritual had been not only unanimous in their opposition (to the bemused consternation of many a Church Times correspondent who was ordained in the 1980s, although it turns out that such ageing souls' beloved Robert Runcie believed that sex was only ever for procreation and that homosexuality could be cured by psychiatric treatment), but they have also been the key figures around whom that opposition has accrued.

Their decision to throw in the towel, and that on a Bill which proper organisation could have denied a Third Reading after it had only received a Second Reading because of timetabling shenanigans that could not have been repeated, calls most gravely into question the moral leadership that they have undeniably provided against assisted suicide, against this Government's wicked persecution of the poor, in support of initiatives such as those described above, and so on.

Not, contrary to what is usually assumed, that moral leadership is anything more than a by-product of their membership of the Upper House. It is not specifically why they are there.

The presence in the House of Lords of bishops (and historically also of abbots and others) has nothing to do with Establishment. It predates the Reformation by several centuries, and until the Dissolution of the Monasteries, the Lords Spiritual formed the majority of the members.

They were there because of their enormous landholdings, and that is why a certain number of bishops of the Church of England, this country's largest landholder after the Crown, are still there to this day.

Being moral bastions, or spiritual advisors, or whatever, has never in principle had anything to do with it. They are there, as they have always been there, because their institution is as rich as Croesus, and for absolutely no other formal reason.

Still, the idea seems to have taken hold that they are indeed there in order to be moral bastions, or spiritual advisors, or whatever. Until this week, they were doing that quite well.

The whinges against them have been their "lefty" concern for the poor, their "reactionary" concern for the sanctity of life and until now for the institution of marriage, the fact that they have to be men (which longterm readers will know is one of the most useful and valuable things about them), and, in a twist which has been added from scratch in the last year or two, the fact that they are drawn from only one part of the United Kingdom.

It is also sometimes claimed that they do not necessarily reflect the views of "the people in the pews", in that 80 per cent of Church of England attendees, like 80 per cent of practising Catholics and like 80 per cent of the population at large, was in favour of assisted suicide, just as at least a sizeable minority of Church of England attendees, like at least a sizeable minority of practising Catholics, is in favour of the redefinition of marriage.

But that is not how any part of a parliamentary system works. In any case, it would be monstrous for churchgoers to have additional representation of anything remotely resembling that kind, over and above that which they share with their fellow-citizens in and through the House of Commons, and in certain ways the House of Lords.

Rather, the 26 Lords Spiritual are there to give voice and effect to a tradition, albeit one that it is not particularly easy to define or to discern, but that definition and that discernment are aspects of their job. Whether or not the people in the pews agree with it is as much the wrong question as whether or not the people in the Catholic pews adhere to whichever Teaching of the Church happens to vex one at the given time. Who asked them? That is not how it works.

So, in order to shut up certain professional whiners, and perhaps also to give the 26 a bit of a well-needed fillip, let every registered parliamentary elector in each of Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland be given the right, every 10 or 15 years, to nominate a body which would then name a woman of no politically partisan affiliation (not a requirement of the present Lords Spiritual, to my certain knowledge) to sit as a Lord Spiritual, with the eight bodies receiving the most nominations in each of Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland thus acquiring the right so to name for the 10 or 15-year period.

This would successfully bypass the occasionally mentioned canonical ban on Catholic clergy's sitting as civil legislators, a recent historical phenomenon as the history of the House of Lords demonstrates, and something from which the Pope could perfectly easily grant a dispensation, as he would be most unlikely to decline to do if faced with the possibility that three seats in the British Parliament might be held in perpetuity by the nominees of three Bishops' Conferences made up entirely of the Papacy's own direct appointees.

But women cannot be Catholic clergy, so that situation would not arise. Rather, there would be a woman named by each of those Conferences; three women whose appearances on Question Time and Any Questions, on Newsnight and the Today programme, would certainly make a very welcome change.

The same would be true of the further 21 women who would sit alongside them in the Lords. One of the most interesting questions would be what the Church of Ireland would do. Would it make the appointment at all-Ireland level, thereby delivering a liberal, albeit a liberal based in Northern Ireland? Or would it make the appointment at the level of Northern Ireland, thereby probably delivering a Conservative Evangelical? That would not be the only such situation.

Of course, electors would be free to nominate secularist or humanist organisations. Those would certainly make it into the top eight in Wales, probably in Scotland, and possibly in Northern Ireland, if they had their act together. If they did not have their act together, then they would not deserve to make it into the top eight.

24 is two fewer than 26, but there are far more people in England than there are in Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland combined. If the English were to look at these arrangements and fancy something similar for themselves, then the almost immemorial boundary between the Provinces of York and Canterbury, in its chicken and egg relationship to the North-South Divide, might be used, with each side having 13 Lords Spiritual determined by the above means.

At that point, the sex-based requirement could be abolished. But having 26 conservatively liberal and liberally conservative Fathers in God alongside 24 women appointed variously by the Scottish Catholic Bishops' Conference, the Chief Rabbinate, one or more networks of mosques, and the Free Presbyterian Church of Ulster, would seem to hold out the hope of working very well indeed.

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