For the past several years, a lively debate has emerged among Catholics and other political thinkers over what has come to be known as “postliberalism.” The heart of the debate concerns a basic question: What principles should guide public life and political institutions in an age when many people have lost confidence in the moral and social assumptions that have shaped the modern West?
By “liberalism,” debate participants tend to refer to the political philosophy that has largely shaped Western democracies over the past two centuries. It is one that raises individual liberty to the level of the supreme social good, even at the expense of the communal bonds with their corresponding social norms that have traditionally held societies together.
Towering figures in the field, such as John Rawls and Ronald Dworkin in the English-speaking world and Jürgen Habermas in Europe, personally rejected religious belief, and though tolerant of the right of others to believe in God and practice religion, aimed to provide the theoretical architecture for the strict separation not only of church and state but of religion and public affairs, all in the name of ensuring individuals operate in a “neutral” public square, free from outside religious influence. Dissenters, including high-profile Catholic philosophers such as Alasdair MacIntyre, John Finnis and Charles Taylor, have argued that liberal secularism is itself a sectarian doctrine that should not be given special status in pluralistic democracies.
This debate has come to a head in the past 15 years, moving from the classroom to American society at large. The fracturing of social relationships, a sense of disconnect from the divine, and general dissatisfaction with a life of individual autonomy are all factors that have caused many to question the status quo of secular liberalism and to seek alternatives.
It is important to acknowledge that extreme positions are not representative of those on either side of the debate: Most “postliberals” do not want to abolish civil liberties or establish theocracies, and their critics (at least their Catholic critics) do not want to revive liberal secularism with its permissive attitudes toward evils such as abortion, euthanasia and pornography, or its dogmatic commitment to relegating religion to the purely private sphere.
Nevertheless, important disagreements exist among faithful Catholics today over the implications of honoring inherent and equal human dignity and of promoting the common good. These disagreements include differences about the nature and scope of certain basic civil liberties, such as freedom of speech, the press and religion, as well as differences about the proper degree of separation or alignment of church and state. Advocates for “postliberalism,” for example, typically argue for a somewhat narrower scope of certain liberties and for a tighter connection between church and state than their critics believe is proper.
The question before us now is which worldview should be our guide as we shape law and public policy? Catholics can — and must, I would argue — play a key role in developing this worldview. Our tradition contains the resources needed to construct a philosophy of politics and the common good that avoids the errors of liberal secularism, on the one hand, and authoritarianism or illiberalism on the other.
One reason this debate deserves careful attention is that the Catholic tradition itself does not identify the common good with any single constitutional arrangement. In his 1892 encyclical Au Milieu des Sollicitudes, Pope Leo XIII reflected on the succession of different political regimes in France — “the Empire, the Monarchy, and the Republic” — and observed that Catholics may legitimately prefer one form of government over another:
“[A]nd in all truth it may be affirmed that each of them is good, provided it lead straight to its end — that is to say, to the common good for which social authority is constituted; and finally, it may be added that, from a relative point of view, such and such a form of government may be preferable because of being better adapted to the character and customs of such or such a nation. In this order of speculative ideas, Catholics, like all other citizens, are free to prefer one form of government to another precisely because no one of these social forms is, in itself, opposed to the principles of sound reason nor to the maxims of Christian doctrine” [14].
The Church’s mission is not to canonize a particular political system but to help form citizens capable of promoting justice under the concrete circumstances in which they live. A society imbued with a Christian ethos is the optimal context for forming a virtuous citizenry. It is, indeed, an absolute necessity for democracy to work properly, which is why our Founding Fathers embraced robust religious freedom, as opposed to the French Revolution and forms of state control of religion that ensued in its aftermath.
It was with these considerations in mind that I contributed a foreword to a new book, Why Postliberalism Failed, by James Patterson, a political theorist at the University of Tennessee, and Thomas Howes, a philosopher who teaches at Princeton. As its title suggests, the book is sharply critical of postliberal thought and raises important historical and philosophical concerns about movements that have sought to unite religious authority and political power too closely. The authors argue that various postliberal and integralist experiments often produced outcomes far removed from the justice and moral renewal they promised.
My purpose in writing the foreword, however, was not to endorse one side of the debate over the other. I believe Patterson and Howes raise serious questions that deserve consideration. Yet I also note that many Catholics are drawn to postliberalism — figures like Notre Dame political theorist Patrick Deneen and The Catholic University of America theologian Chad Pecknold — because they perceive genuine problems in contemporary society and are searching for a richer account of the common good. Their concerns should not be caricatured or dismissed.
One of the central themes of the foreword is that ideas should be tested honestly — historically, philosophically and theologically. The authors invite readers to examine the historical record of postliberal and integralist projects, such as Portugal under António de Oliveira Salazar (1932-1968). Advocates of postliberalism, for their part, are free to challenge the authors’ interpretations and conclusions. Such engagement is healthy. It is how intellectual traditions develop and how truth is more fully understood.
It is important, too, to bear in mind the principles on which faithful Catholics agree: that every human being possesses inherent dignity as one created in the image and likeness of God; that public life should be ordered toward justice and the common good; and that political authority exists to serve the human person, not the other way around.
Civil debate offers the opportunity to learn from the past, both correcting what has gone wrong and retaining or retrieving what has proven helpful for a healthy society. Perhaps we have lost things in the distant past while also learning valuable new things in the more recent past. Nevertheless, real disagreements remain. The debate between Catholic postliberals and their critics raises serious questions with important implications for law, culture and public policy, especially as they apply to the meaning of the common good and the appropriate relationship between church and state.
At the end of the day, laws and constitutions matter greatly, but they cannot substitute for virtue, which fosters the habits of responsibility, self-restraint, solidarity, and concern for others upon which any healthy political order depends. Even more than the particular form of government, it is the character of those who govern that really matters.
Speaking as a Catholic and an archbishop, I believe Catholics should read carefully, think deeply and engage charitably with those who hold different views. My hope is that my foreword to Why Postliberalism Failed can contribute, in some small way, to that effort. The goal should not be victory for one faction or another, but a deeper understanding of the truth. Let this be a debate in which “steel sharpens steel.”