• The #syriavote is not so simple really

    Like many people in the UK, I spent much of yesterday dipping into what was happening in parliament as a long debate took place as to whether this country should engage in military action against ISIL in Syria.

    I once had aspirations to be an MP and that always makes me wonder which division lobby I would have walked into when these moments of national drama take place.

    In this instance I am almost sure that I would have walked into the nay lobby – I’d have voted against extending military action in Syria.

    However, I don’t find this a simple question. It is far more complex than my twitter feed seems to be suggesting. And this morning I’m not rushing to add #notinmyname hashtags to everything. This is a case where I can see merit on both side of the question and I find that my gut reaction which is to be against military action is more pragmatic than ideological.

    I happen not to be a pacifist. I am not a pacifist because I think that sometimes there are evils that may need to be defeated by force. The obvious and classic example is that I think that the allied forces were right to be deployed to defeat Nazism. It was an ideology that threatened all of Europe with its evil. Some things are worth fighting against.

    It is my suspicion that ISIL is something worth fighting against that would have made me pause before casting a vote had I been in parliament last night. I find myself having sympathy with Hilary Benn who identified the threat from ISIL as being the fascism of the day. So many of the same themes emerge – death to the Jews, death to the gays, murderous sectarianism and a direct opposition to democracy. The fact that it now uses terrorism on Western streets and wickedly distorts Islam for its own ends shouldn’t blind us to the fact that we’ve seen fascism before and have believed it should be fought.

    And that’s why I can see that there’s a case for action.

    My problem is largely because I can’t see the action being particularly likely to succeed which is one of the conditions of using force in just war theory.

    I can’t really see that there’s a plan for post conflict rebuilding of Syria yet. I can’t really see how another two bombers will make that much difference – the Americans have been bombing ISIL targets for months and don’t seem to me to have solved the problem. It is inevitable that civilians will die in this action. It is difficult to believe that the action will meet the test of proportionality. I also don’t really believe that you can bomb ideas out of existence.

    And so I find myself believing action to be wrong for pragmatic reasons whilst believing that ISIL should be confronted for ideological reasons. And that would have given me a terrible dilemma has I been in parliament.

    Two things emerged yesterday which I found contemptible. Firstly the Prime Minister’s assertion that those who were against action were terrorist sympathisers. It was beneath the dignity of his office to make such a claim and he should have apologised. Secondly, those who are trying to co-opt this question for the sake of Scottish Nationalism. It should be beneath our dignity as the people of Scotland to co-opt this terrible decision for our local politics. Whether one likes it or not, Scotland chose to remain part of the UK and the UK parliament has made a decision. Being democrats means that sometimes we have to respect the democratic decisions that are made that we don’t like. That’s what being a democrat actually is. That means those who don’t like the result of the Scottish Referendum need to accept that the people of Scotland made an informed choice. It is our parliament that made the decision last night – a decision I happen to find it difficult to support. It is a parliament that the people of Scotland chose to remain a part of. Using ISIL to make cheap nationalist points in this country appals me. If we don’t accept democratic decision making (the referendum, the workings of parliament in which we are all represented etc) then we begin to lose the moral right to stand against the forces which rage against democracy wherever we encounter them.

    We encounter them in ISIL. The question at hand is how to oppose them.

    Last night I think that I would have voted against the government and against the use of force in Syria. However I would have done so with a heavy heart. It is just possible that after listening to the debates I might have voted with the government and for the use of force against the evils of ISIL. I would have done so with an even heavier heart though I would have done so hoping that if my own land was being conquered by fascists, then other countries would intervene.

    That’s why this issue is more complex than my twitter feed seems to find it.

24 responses to “Good Vicar, Bad Vicar”

  1. Josh Avatar

    Being a good vicar to stony, unreceptive hearts might require a pickaxe to reveal gemstones within. It must be tough to minister to jerks and meanies, no? We lose faith in people easily – I certainly do. But a good vicar – a loving parent – doesn’t give on up one’s children.

    A good vicar might depend on the eye of the beholder. Whether you believe vicars and congregations are intrinsically good or evil might get you called a Pelagian or an Augustinian depending on who you ask. Faith in the work of a vicar or the reception of the congregation depends on good faith and co-operation – what then do we place our faith in? Hardly Protestant thinking, when faith is dependent on work, manifestation, and epiphany. A bad vicar might be sent to good people. A good vicar might be sent to bad people. Whether a vicar or congregation is subjectively or objectively good is a difficult question to answer.

    It is then that I prefer to see both the vicar and congregation not as “good” or “bad” but rather as equally “beloved”. However large the congregation, or even the vicar’s skill shouldn’t matter then. But that raises the question: Who then do we love if we are so beloved by God? Perhaps love might be the answer. A vicar and congregation who sees and knows themselves as equally and lavishly beloved of God will love each other. Love makes congregations meaningful and precious, no matter how small they might be.

  2. Josh Avatar

    And if I might add to my previous comment – And love also makes vicars meaningful and precious, no matter how small the congregation might be.

  3. Rosemary Hannah Avatar
    Rosemary Hannah

    Yes – things which make the practicalities of small congregations include:
    the laity in most senior positions find it hard to see the inclusive love of God and to see the value of prayer and spiritual exercises, a shortage of laity with administrative abilities, a tiny handful of parishioners prepared to insist on unhelpful things all the time (the oldest liturgies every week, the kind of behaviour small children cannot sustain all service long, particular dress in those at church on Sunday to name but a tiny selection). In a larger church these things can be contained (one nasty comment for lady x outweighed by five or six lovely ones or simply finding somebody to be treasurer who can cope with the job). In a small church, however good the vicar, the nasty comment carries more weight, and the sorting out of the finances may take days of clergy effort. It is always hard to get from a tiny congregation to a large one.

    That said, I have sat through sermons so mind-numbingly boring and inappropriate that I have actually moved to another church.

  4. Paul Waddington Avatar
    Paul Waddington

    If one looks at the larger picture, the Archbishop’s optimism seems misplaced.

    According to the 1851 census, about five million people attended a Church of England service on the census day (a Sunday). The population of England and Wales at the time was about 17 million. These are round figures and I know that there were difficulties with the religious census, but they are good enough to demonstrate my point. Roughly speaking, about 30% of the population attended a CofE that Sunday.

    Recently published figures estimate average Sunday attendance at CofE churches at about 900,000. That is about 2% of the population of England. Wales is now excluded.

    So taking the long view, the trend is rather depressing for the CofE. Compared with 1851, fourteen out of fifteen no longer attend church regularly.

    As an aside, the 1851 census indicated a church attendance for Catholics of about 350,000. That is about 2% of the population. I understand that the current figure is very similar for Mass attendance is also around 900,000 or 2% of the population.

    Other recent research has indicated that the age range of CofE congregations is skewed towards the upper end. Certainly in my local parish, it is unusual to see anyone under the age of 60. I do wonder how many there will be in, say, 15 years time.

    1. Kelvin Avatar

      Thanks Paul – I find that bishops generally tend to accentuate the positive when it comes to thinking about numbers in church. Whether that is because they only go to events that are comparatively well attended or whether it is actually because it is their job to be upbeat about possibilities is not clear to me.

  5. Pam Avatar
    Pam

    It is complicated – ‘good’ and ‘bad’ – poor adjectives. The rector is the leader of the congregation and needs support and trust. But, I think, no longer is the vicar held in such esteem as not to have to earn that support and trust. A good thing, mostly. Churches grow for all sorts of reasons – the level of involvement with non-believers, a prominent noticeboard and outstanding bikke and slice-makers all help.

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