IN THE Europe of 2017, can there be such a thing as a Catholic political leader? That seems like a topical question in a year when the European Union is being shaken to its foundations and at least three European democracies (France, Germany, the Netherlands) face elections in which issues of culture and identity loom large.
Before even thinking about the matter, it is worth recalling that Europe's transnational institutions, as they emerged after 1945, were deeply Catholic in inspiration. Devout statesmen such as Robert Schuman of France, Italy's Alcide De Gasperi and Konrad Adenauer of Germany (pictured, left to right) laid the groundwork for a new continental order in which national divisions would be overcome and Western Europe, at least, would stand firm against totalitarianism. Politicians who had resisted fascism, in the name of their Catholic faith, were seen as well-placed to oppose the new menace of atheist communism, and the movement known as Christian Democracy took shape.
These days, Catholicism still surfaces in European debates, albeit not usually as a decisive factor. At a time when Islam is the fastest-growing form of religious practice on the continent, politicians of the right, centre-right and even centre-left can still appeal to nativist sentiment by stressing the importance of the continent's historic faith. But the evidence suggests that any aspiring politician who tried, in the name of Catholicism, to roll back the liberal consensus on bio-ethical and reproductive issues would be thumped electorally.
In France, there was talk of Catholic influence re-emerging when the devout François Fillon prevailed in primaries as the centre-right candidate for the presidency. He had challenged France's powerful pro-choice consensus by saying that “philosophically and in view of my personal faith, I cannot approve of abortion”. But he also stressed that he would not seek to overturn the country’s liberal legislation in this area because it was “not in the public interest” to reopen that debate. France’s electorate does have a socially conservative segment, as is shown by the emergence of a protest movement (mainly against gay marriage and adoption) called Manif Pour Tous. In that quarter, voters probably welcome Mr Fillon's piety, and some dismiss as a frame-up recent allegations about improper payments to his wife. But it says something about modern France that both Mr Fillon and his centre-right rivals have been keen to play down any political dependence on Manif.
Italy’s Matteo Renzi, who was prime minister until December, was unusual as a young European leader to profess loyalty to his Catholic roots. Born in 1975, his mini-biographies always note that he was part of a Catholic scout movement in his youth. But he was at odds with the church, and in tune with his generation, in pushing through legislation to on same-sex unions; he even supported an ultimately unsuccessful amendment that would have granted parental entitlements to a non-biological parent in a gay union. The new prime minister Paolo Gentiloni had a warm relationship with the Holy See during his previous post as foreign minister; he quietly encouraged Italian embassies and the Vatican’s diplomatic service to collaborate in supporting embattled Christian communities around the world. But, says Pasquale Annicchino, a religion scholar at the European Union Institute, this was more of a pragmatic link-up than an act of piety on Mr Gentiloni’s part.
In parts of Europe where Catholicism is strong but also controversial, politicians have had to edge back from socially conservative positions. Spain’s centre-right prime minister Mariano Rajoy strongly contested his country’s gay-marriage legislation when he was in opposition; but on taking power he said he would leave the matter to the judiciary, which upheld the liberal law. In 2015, he made waves by attending the gay marriage of a political ally. In Poland, moves to tighten the country's abortion laws were abandoned last October after protests against the change drew huge numbers.
And in one of the heartlands of political Catholicism, Bavaria, relations between the locally dominant Christian Social Union and the Catholic church are nothing like as cosy as they used to be. Some of region’s conservative politicians consider the church of Pope Francis too liberal by half on matters of immigration. The Catholic credentials of Horst Seehofer, the state premier, have been compromised since 2007 when it emerged that he had an extramarital affair and a child out of wedlock.
Mr Annicchino, whose writings compare the role of religion in European and American government policy, describes the transformation in Europe as follows. For politicians like De Gasperi, he says, Catholicism was a "grand narrative" which shaped their entire world-view; they saw their faith as a uniquely compelling alternative to tyranny of the left or right. Vast changes in Europe's culture and educational landscape make it unlikely that a leader of that mindset would emerge now. These days, politicians can nod towards Catholicism as part of a political tactic but they are unlikely to let the faith fill their entire intellectual horizon. And if they did, it might be added, that wouldn't be an electoral winner.
Robert Royal, a conservative American pundit and fellow of the Faith and Reason Institute, adds a new twist to that argument by seeing in Euro-scepticism a valid response to the EU's departure from its original, Catholic principles. Modern Europe's founding fathers were inspired by a “Christian view of the human person and human societies” but their vision had degenerated into “one of the world's most militantly secular and haplessly bureaucratic entities” and one which “laboured mightily to spread its errors to the world”. Writing on the eve of the British referendum, he observed, with apparent relish, that "if they [the British] leaave, the whole thing may be done."
Fonte:economist
BY ERASMUS
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