To Kill a Ghost by Theo Hobson -Jun 30, 2003

The question of how church and state should be related is, to put it mildly, a tricky one. It has perplexed theologians for centuries, and continues to do so.

But the issue is particularly acute for members of the Church of England. For this church is in the unusual position of being ‘established by law’.

The Church has an explicit political function. It is the official religion of the nation. The Supreme Governor of the Church is none other than the Queen. Its leaders are chosen by the prime minister. This church is built into the structure of the state. This is familiar to us, but we should try to see it afresh. For it is an astonishing thing.

Let us first admit that this is a highly contentious area, in which we should fear to tread. For one should be very wary of attacking a political tradition of such longevity. This country has known great peace and stability, and the Church has contributed to that tradition. We should think very carefully before attacking an arrangement that still underpins the identity of both Church and nation. We should realise the magnitude of our decision. Yet in the end we must decide. Can we continue to defend the old, or dare we break with it, and seek the new?

I believe that the Church’s establishment is objectionable on Christian grounds. But let us start elsewhere, with the secular case for change. For I also think that establishment is objectionable on secular grounds. It surprises me that there are not more secular voices calling for the disestablishment of the Church and the creation of a secular state.

The establishment of the Church is rooted in an ideal of national religious unity. The Church is supposed to be an expression of the religious life of the entire population. That is how Henry VIII's take-over of the Church has been justified: by identifying the Church with the English people. That is how parliament’s control of the Church has been traditionally justified: parliament represents the people, and therefore the people control their own church.

This, it need hardly be said, is no longer a feasible narrative. It was never strictly true, of course, due to the presence of Catholics and other dissenters, but for the vast majority it once had the aura of truth: it worked, it made sense. No longer. Today we have a pluralist, effectively secular society.

Therefore, the disestablishment of the Church does not entail a cultural revolution. It entails being honest about a cultural revolution that has already taken place. Over the past generation or so, Britain has rejected its traditional religious identity. This should be seen as the completion of a much longer process of secularisation, of course. Its gradual nature threatens to obscure its import. This rejection of the Church by the
national political culture amounts to a revolution, perhaps the biggest in our history. Yet the outward forms remain in place. It is an odd situation, and rather an unhealthy one. Consequently, to argue against establishment is like trying to kill a ghost. It is a rather embarrassing undertaking.

But we must, I believe, try to inject some honesty into the debate about national identity, and the role of religion in society. Our traditional religious identity is finished. The preservation of an established church is a huge piece of dishonesty, of make-believe. Traditionally, establishment was a two-way deal: the Church gave spiritual legitimacy to the state, and the state promoted the interests of the Church. During the twentieth century, especially since the 1960s, the state effectively pulled out of this arrangement, by popular demand. The nation became effectively secular.

That is the secular case for disestablishment: honesty about our national development, about the course we have taken. The theological case for disestablishment is really too obvious for words. One is embarrassed to have to state it, and I will do so very succinctly.

A Christian church exists in order to witness to the authority of God in Jesus Christ. Divine authority must not be confused with the authority of any secular entity, Queen, country, whatever. We call such confusion idolatry. With Paul, we acknowledge the necessity for the authority of the state, but we refuse to mix the authority of the state and the authority of the gospel together.

How has establishment lasted so long, if it is anomalous on two counts - modern secular politics and Christian theology? Principally due to the cultural conservatism of the majority, of course. But why has the Church itself agreed to remain within such a theologically dubious arrangement?

Principally because it shares this cultural conservatism. Also, the abandonment of status is a bitter thing: it is hard to climb down from such a high pedestal.

To understand the Church’s slowness to reform, we must also refer to internal theological issues. The age-old schism between Catholic and Protestant, or ‘high’ and ‘low’ has never really abated since the Reformation. Its bitterness is fully apparent in the current row over homosexuality. One of its effects is to make each side institutionally conservative, for fear of ceding influence to the other side.

Also, the Church fears, with some reason, that disestablishment would endanger its delicate religious identity, its pursuit of the ‘middle way’ between Catholic and Protestant. This theological compromise was always reliant upon the Church’s establishment: an overarching political ideal was needed, to make the fragile union work. Recently, the unifying force of establishment has greatly weakened, and the middle way with it. In the last decade or two, the Church has failed to keep its extremist edges in check – the centre cannot hold. We now have the worst of both worlds: open schism within an unpopular established Church.

The Church of England is locked in a terrible, terminal dilemma. It has always depended on establishment for its unity, its coherence, its order, its identity. But establishment is gradually draining it of vitality, of credibility. For it is increasingly obvious that the traditional national ideal is at best irrelevant, and at worst inimical, to the business of Christianity. A convincing and compelling form of Christianity cannot afford to be defined in this way.

In consequence, Anglican identity has become intolerably painful. To be an Anglican is to be in some degree of denial (or ignorance) about this crisis. Surely, with some tinkering, the circle can be squared? Surely the constitution will evolve in some unforseeable way and the problem will recede? Surely a new leader will show the way? Another habit is to affect a brave realism, almost an indifference. Let disestablishment come if it must: the Church will survive! And in the meantime let us carry on doing what we do, being what we are! But this is to evade the immediacy and the finality of the crisis. We would do better to acknowledge the unpalatable truth.

This Church, as it is presently constituted, is a sinking ship. We must work hard to rescue the priceless cargo, to man the lifeboats. And all the while we are told to keep everything shipshape and, bitter irony, to get others on board.

Plenty of Anglicans, including a few bishops, say that they favour disestablishment. But it seems to be one of those causes that receive lip-service only. There is no Anglican campaign for disestablishment, except for a feeble website that I set up last year. So far the response has been poor. Perhaps this article will have more success in bringing sympathisers out of the woodwork.

Those interested in the case for disestablishment are invited to attend a public meeting on November 22, at St Mary’s church in Putney, from 2pm. More information is available by emailing Theo Hobson: theohobson@hotmail.com

Theo Hobson is a freelance theologian and founder of disestablish.co.uk. His book Against Establishment, An Anglican Polemic is published in November by DLT.