By DONALD DeMARCO
Why is it that Plato, according to some historians, perhaps the greatest political philosopher of all time, did not go into politics? He did consider the matter but realized that he would need loyal and reliable companions, and such were both hard to find and difficult to generate. He also observed that the written law and customs of his time were being corrupted at an astounding rate.
In conclusion, therefore, he stated that “I, who had at first been full of eagerness for a public career, as I gazed upon the whirlpool of public life and saw the incessant movement of shifting currents, at last felt dizzy, and, while I did not cease to consider the whole constitution, yet, in regard to action, I kept waiting for favorable moments, and finally saw clearly in regard to all states now existing that without exception their system of government is bad.”
Had Plato entered the “whirlpool” of politics, his written philosophy, including his great contribution to the notion of justice, his true gift to the world, would have been lost to history. What he has left us with is a treasure of political wisdom that politicians can draw from and profit by. Politics’ loss has proven to be posterity’s gain. In a certain sense, philosophy must be kept apart from politics so that the latter does not absorb the former into itself. The uncontaminated Plato remains available to any intelligent politician.
Plato’s attitude toward politics, by no means, was restricted to his times. When Jacques Maritain examined the political climate in the 1940s, he concluded that “politics believes that it is of its very essence (and thus an obligation) to ignore entirely morality and justice.” A minimal knowledge of history, he tells us, is enough to make it clear that “except in the case of holy kings, the leaders of peoples are never very much concerned with justice in politics” (De la Justice Politique).
George Orwell made the point, though in a far more trenchant way when he stated: “Political language…is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and give an appearance of solidity to pure wind.”
G.K. Chesterton spiced the point with humor when he remarked: “It is terrible to contemplate how few politicians are hanged.”
“I am not interested in advice,” Mussolini once said. “I am interested in applause.”
Is politics pure vanity? Is there room in this field for upright leaders? Can a Catholic of good conscience enter the world of politics and preserve his Catholicity?
The problem is not so much with politics itself but that it pretends to be more than it can be. Politics is neither philosophy nor theology. It is severely limited in what it can achieve. Nonetheless, it is commonplace for people to demand from politics what politics cannot deliver.
Three things come to mind: 1) that politics absolves them from the need for self-improvement; 2) that it grants immediate and satisfactory results; 3) that it will make things better than they were under the previous administration. In this regard, citizens begin to resemble members of a crowd rather than intelligent observers of the current scene. In order to please the masses, God is eliminated. Unfortunately, the attempt to eliminate God brings him back as the apotheosis of the government.
Given these unrealistic expectations, people look to a person who promises the impossible, a one who is charismatic, oratorical, and media-savvy. They look to a person who will promise anything as long as it will aid him in being elected. Former Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper was right in assessing that Justin Trudeau campaigned on “rainbows and unicorns.” The masses embrace the man who envisions a new utopia on the horizon. Yet, they neglect the obvious, that the most important changes for the better in society begin in person-to-person human relations, something that politics cannot provide.
The inane attempt on the part of some contemporary governments to make people more tolerant of and nicer to each other through legislation has proven to be counterproductive. As cultural historian Jacques Barzun acerbically commented, “Political correctness does not legislate tolerance; it only organizes hatred.”
The seductive power of political secularism is quite powerful. The Catholic politician may be tempted to approve abortion, euthanasia, and contraception, for political reasons. Nonetheless, as a Catholic, he is duty bound to improve society in the direction of justice, and not compromise his Catholic vision in the interest of conforming to secular imperatives.
On this point, St. John Paul II reminded his clergy that the Gospel and the secular world do not perfectly coincide: “You are priests, not social or political workers. Let us not be under the illusion that we are serving the Gospel through an exaggerated interest in the wide field of temporal politics.”
Politics is partisan, ever changing, and superficial. Politicians are elected for short terms. Oftentimes, their contributions are erased by their successors. The Church is one, eternal, and wise. It is in business, so to speak, for the duration. Surely there is room in the world of politics for good Catholics to make a positive contribution, but their role is limited. They cannot change hearts, something that all politicians should bear in mind.
The Church is not a party system. She is one. Moreover, she believes strongly in educating persons, not in mesmerizing the masses. Her appeal is to reason. Her inspiration is faith, hope, and love. The Catholic politician cannot forget that he is “in” the world, and not “of” the world. His duty to God precedes his duty to his fellow citizens. And he understands full well that in ministering justice, he is not imposing his own will. He is a servant without being sycophantic, a caregiver without counting the cost.
(Dr. Donald DeMarco’s latest book, soon to be released, is Apostles of the Culture of Life (TAN Books).
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