"On my arrival in the United States the religious aspect of the country was the first thing that struck my attention," Tocqueville reports in Democracy in America (I, 308). Tocqueville's wonder embraces admiration as well as surprise. Though religion is not formally a part of the American political system, Tocqueville goes so far as to describe it as the first of America's political institutions by virtue of its indirect effects upon political life (I, 305). For him, only one other extrapolitical factor is more important-that when America became a political democracy it already enjoyed "equality of conditions." Yet he regards the latter as almost certain to endure under any and all foreseeable future political arrangements; the future vitality of religion he sees as far less certain. Accordingly, the role of religion forms one of the most important themes of his reflections on the blessings, problems, and prospects of democracy as such. He not only devotes several chapters and even groups of chapters to the subject but also presents observations about it throughout the rest of the work.

Tocqueville considers this theme to be of special importance to his French and other European readers. It goes to the very heart of the "great problem of our times"-"the organization and the establishment of democracy in Christendom" (I, 325). The project of establishing political democracy in Europe had heretofore been, in Tocqueville's opinion, a failure. Among the principal causes of that failure was that "the spirit of religion and the spirit of freedom [were almost always] marching in opposite directions." In America, by contrast, "they were intimately united" (I, 308). Though the Americans have not entirely resolved the problem of democracy and religion, "they furnish useful data to those who undertake to resolve it" (I, 325). Of course, Tocqueville was chief among those who aimed at a solution. It was, in fact, his duty, one impossible for decent men not to face.

The problem for the rest of Christendom was manifold. Many religious forces and institutions in Europe, and the French Catholic Church in particular, were inclined to see democracy as the inevitable and implacable enemy of religion and hence were opposed to the establishment of democratic republics. Tocqueville, on the other hand, citing the American experience, proposes that democracy can indeed become a friend to religion and may even be crucial to its future vitality. The first objective of Tocqueville's discussion of religion in America is to persuade the partisans of religion and of democracy to join forces.

But the simple establishment of democracy in Europe is not his most fundamental concern, nor is the support that American religion gives to democracy its only, or even its chief, virtue. In his introduction ton Democracy in America, Tocqueville argues that the inexorable advance of equality of conditions has made the march of democracy through Europe inevitable. It is, Tocqueville concludes, of divine provenance. No action, however intended, fails to abet it. European Christianity cannot stop the democratic movement and will only succeed in destroying itself if it proceeds on its present course.

Yet increasing equality of conditions will not necessarily lead to freedom and liberal democracy. It could as easily result in a new form of despotism, unprecedented in its capacity for oppression, evil, and degradation. The only possible historical precedent is the tyranny of the Caesars, though Tocqueville seems to think that modern democratic despotism will surpass it in evil (I, 328). In this, he was, as we now know, remarkably prescient.

Hence the most fundamental question is whether one can prevent democracy from degenerating into despotism. Here is where the study of America was indispensable: The United States had avoided that outcome and offered fair promise of continuing to do so. According to Tocqueville, religion had been crucial to this success. "If it does not impart a taste for freedom, it facilitates the use of it" (I, 305). This is vital because democratic despotism and the temptation to succumb to it are the result of certain features of democratic life, among them individualism and materialism; when these are taken to an extreme, they lead to conditions in which citizens either are forced to surrender their freedom or do so happily. Although religion cannot destroy individualism and the pursuit of material well-being, which are inevitable consequences of equality, it offers the chief means of moderating and educating these tendencies. Indeed, Tocqueville goes so far as to suggest that religion may even be necessary to sustain (as well as to moderate) individualism and material prosperity and thus may be doubly necessary to the future success of democracy.

All this suggests that, practically speaking, there is a "natural" harmony between religion and democracy. More precisely, Tocqueville asserts that there is a necessary relationship between Christianity and modern democracy. Only the appearance of Jesus in the world and the proclamation of the universal equality of all men makes true democracy possible (II, 15). It is partly in that sense that the modern democratic movement is providential.

But Christianity, in Tocqueville's account, is critical in another sense as well. Its distinction between that which belongs to Caesar and that which belongs to God makes possible the rise of democratic conditions as well as democratic sentiments (II, 23). Christianity denies to political and military force a sovereign claim to complete authority in all human affairs. Without that, Europe would have retained its feudal character indefinitely. The strict and aristocratic hierarchy of feudalism was not easily assailable, being perhaps the natural form of human rule. Yet Christianity prepared its demise by, among other things, permitting men of low origins to rise to high station and thus setting an example for other challenges to the feudal hierarchy. Although many of these challenges had their motives in the personal ambitions of kings, merchants, lawyers, and scholars, their fundamental opportunity and perhaps their fundamental justification derived from Christian teaching.

In addition, certain changes within Christianity abetted the delegitimization of aristocratic hierarchy. Though he describes himself as an observant Catholic, Tocqueville credits Protestantism with encouraging a kind of individualism and freedom with respect to authority that, when translated into political terms, served to support political democracy. Moreover, certain forms of Protestantism, having their home among the middle classes, united politically democratic inclinations with social equality. Nowhere was this combination clearer or more compelling than in the case of the founders of New England. Among the New England settlers, an equality based on religion was joined together in a particularly fortuitous mixture with equality of middle-class station, the great social factor underlying American success.

Yet although Christianity may have been the source of the equality of conditions that increasingly characterized Europe, only in America had the true harmony between Christianity and democracy been realized. This triumph rested on the principle of the separation of church and state. The separation of church and state in America has two great benefits. First, it has prevented the development of vested religious interests in the fortunes of particular political forces and parties, as had occurred in Europe. Thus in America religion had little to fear from the inevitable variability of political fortunes in a democracy. Neither did democratic political institutions have anything to fear from religion; hence they were entirely favorable to religious freedom. In turn, all sects were favorable to the political liberty that protected their religious liberty. Everything in this arrangement conspired to support respect for liberty, the principle of democratic life (I, ch. 17). It is especially important that religion should lend its support to the principle of separation of church and state. According to Tocqueville, democracy rests not on constitutional arrangements, or even on laws, but on what he calls the mores of society, which embrace both the "habits of the heart" and opinions. Religion is the most powerful source of both. The liberty characteristic of democracy permits individual habits and opinions to acquire great force in the aggregate. Religion is therefore bound to have a great, if indirect, influence (I, 303).

This is the second great benefit of the separation of church and state. Prevented by law from engaging in politics, religion in America devotes itself to its proper sphere: the cultivation of opinion and habit, especially moral habits. The focus on moral instruction, even if it comes at the expense of doctrine, is a wonderful characteristic of American religion. Inasmuch as all American religious sects "agree in respect to the duties which are due from man to man" and "preach the same morality in the name of God," they share a common interest, even though "each sect worships God in its own fashion." This interest is identical to the interest of democracy. For religion "never instructs the Americans more fully in the art of being free than when it says nothing about freedom" (I, 303). Americans are in great need of this art, as are all citizens of democracies.

Tocqueville is admirably blunt about the reason why: "How it is possible that society should escape destruction if the moral tie is not strengthened ... as the political tie is relaxed? And what can be done with a people who are their own masters if they are not submissive to the Deity?" he asks (I, 303). "While the law permits the American people to do as they please, religion prevents them from conceiving, and forbids them to commit, what is rash or unjust" (I, 305). Tocqueville's bluntness is directed at European friends of democracy who "sincerely desire to prepare man to be free" but often "attack religious opinions." In this, Tocqueville argues, "they obey the dictates of their passions and not of their interests." For while "despotism may govern without faith . . . liberty cannot" (I, 307).

The message, then, seems to be clear and simple: Successful political democracy will inevitably require moral instruction grounded in religious faith. The American political system-and in particular the separation of church and state-has shown how all democratic republics may enjoy the moral benefits of religious faith while avoiding its potential curse, hostility to liberty.

Tocqueville's account of the moral situation and dynamics of democracy is more complicated, however. He goes on to describe how religion itself undergoes a transformation, and perhaps even a deformation, under the impact of democracy. To begin with, in America religion's emphasis on moral teaching amounts to a deemphasis of theological considerations. This not only has contributed to social peace among Christian sects but amounts to a moral change as well. Christianity's natural moral impulse, an austere indifference to the things of this world, was still reflected to some degree in the America of Tocqueville's time. Yet as he points out, the dynamics of democracy undermine otherworldliness and can only continue to do so. "Of all the passions which originate in or are fostered by equality, there is one which it renders peculiarly intense, and which it also infuses into the heart of every man; I mean the love of well-being. The taste for well-being is the prominent and indelible characteristic of democratic times" (II, 26). Tocqueville provides vivid examples of this characteristic, which has certainly not diminished over time.

Given the otherworldly character of Christianity, American religion could easily have found itself in opposition to democracy and thus have been regarded as an enemy by its partisans. This did not happen, because Christian ministers and preachers have wholly adapted themselves to democratic life. "While they never cease to point to the other world as the great object of the hopes and fears of the believer, they do not forbid him honestly to court prosperity in this [world]" (II, 27). Tocqueville commends this attitude of American ministers. They should not attempt to conquer the love of well-being, for they would not succeed. The only result would be that "the minds of men would at length escape [religion's] grasp, to plunge into the exclusive enjoyment of present and material pleasures." Rather, religion should work to "purify, regulate, and restrain" this passion and to persuade people to "enrich themselves by none but honest means" (II, 26).

This modification of the traditional religious stance toward wealth is not the only adaptation that religion must make. Democratic circumstances demand simplicity in religious dogma and ritual, although these (especially dogma) remain vital as a bulwark against democratic despotism. ("When there is no longer any principle of authority in religion . . . men are speedily frightened at ... this unbounded independence" and are likely to hand themselves over to a master [II, 22].) Thus religion must take into account that people in democratic ages are loath to accept dogmatic beliefs and are impatient with the details of worship.

But this leads to a problem of which Tocqueville is well aware: "As all religions have general and eternal truths for their object, they cannot shape themselves to the shifting inclinations of each age without forfeiting their claim to certainty in the eyes of mankind." Doing so would not only harm religion, it would also sacrifice precisely those benefits to democracy that Tocqueville attributes to religious dogma. Tocqueville's answer is that religions must hold fast to the essentials (what "theologians call articles of faith"), while leaving room for flexibility in everything else (II, 25).

These difficulties call into question the natural harmony between religion and democracy. Tocqueville implicitly admits this by declaring that "religious nations are ... naturally strong on the very point on which democratic nations are weak" and by stating that religion's greatest advantage is that it inspires principles diametrically opposed to the individualism and materialism that are the characteristic passions of a democratic age (II, 22). The relationship between religion and democracy would thus appear to require very careful management. Despite the adaptations religion must make, it has a substantial interest in maintaining a harmonious relationship. In America, "by respecting all democratic tendencies not absolutely contrary to herself and by making use of several of them for her purposes, religion sustains a successful struggle with that spirit of individual independence which is its most dangerous opponent" (II, 28).

Nevertheless, one cannot help but wonder whether this success will continue or whether there is a need to find other, nonreligious means of moral and intellectual regulation. Tocqueville addresses this possibility by taking up the theme of "self-interest rightly understood," a moral doctrine that is neither new nor unique to the United States, although it is "among the Americans of our time that it finds universal acceptance" (II, 122). Essentially this doctrine teaches that one's "private interest is to do good" or, as the popular adage goes, that "honesty is the best policy." Although this doctrine is not sublime, it is clear and definite, and Americans have put it into practice to good effect. "Each American knows when to sacrifice some of his private interests to save the rest" (II, 123). Although this doctrine cannot make a man virtuous by itself, its discipline can train people to become orderly, temperate, moderate, careful, and self-controlled citizens. If it does not lead the will directly to virtue, it establishes habits that unconsciously turn it in that direction.

Tocqueville's discussion here suggests that self-interest rightly understood may prove wholly adequate to the moral requirements of democracy, thus implying that religion may ultimately be unnecessary. Unlike religion, it is "within the reach of all capacities; everyone can without difficulty learn and retain it. By its admirable conformity to human weaknesses, it easily obtains great dominion; nor is that dominion precarious, since the principle checks one personal interest by another and uses, to direct the passions, the very same instrument that excites them" (II, 123). Indeed Tocqueville goes so far as to say that "the principle of self-interest rightly understood appears to me the best suited of all philosophical theories to the wants of the men in our time, and that I regard it as their chief remaining security against themselves" (II, 123).

In the very next chapter, however, he takes up the issue of whether this "philosophical theory" is compatible with religious doctrine, and he uses the American experience to prove that it is and to show how they can be reconciled (II, ii, ch. 9). Here, the implication seems to be that this reconciliation must be achieved; in other words, the "philosophy" of self-interest rightly understood is ultimately insufficient to serve as the sole basis for the future of democracy and must be supplemented by religion. This prepares Tocqueville's discussion of his final reasons for insisting on the indispensability of religion in democracy, reasons having to do with the role that the question of "the future" plays in human life, for individuals, nations, and mankind as a whole.

All human life is somehow oriented toward the future, but this is especially true of democratic life. Citizens in a democracy exhibit a high level of activity because of the freedom they enjoy and the passions that democracy liberates. Democracy requires this activity in order to maintain itself and its freedom. Yet to sustain such activity, democratic citizens must orient themselves toward some future goal. Only the prospect of some future good will induce men to subordinate their selfishness to common purposes. Without it, men would soon tire of activity, becoming enervated, passive, and ripe for despotic rule. Given the fact of human mortality, only religion can persuasively ground the future and its prospective goods. Only religion can speak of "eternity" or "the future" without qualification. Moreover, as Tocqueville delicately puts it, there are "many sacrifices that can find their recompense only in another [world]" (II, 125).

Although religion may speak elaborately of the "next world," it suffices if men believe in a "supersensual and immortal principle, united for a time to matter" (II, 146). "Most religions are only general, simple, and practical means of teaching men the doctrine of the immortality of the soul" (II, 145). Hence most religions will do.

As always, Tocqueville emphasizes the direct political utility of religion, but this is not his only or deepest concern. Religion's political necessity also points to a more profound human need, one that is especially threatened in democratic ages, when there is a real danger that an excessive concentration on the pursuit of material well-being could lead to the loss of the most sublime human faculties-in effect, to human degradation. Tocqueville calls on democratic legislators and on "virtuous and enlightened men" in general to "raise the souls of their fellow citizens and keep them lifted up towards heaven" (II, 145).

This is no idle or sentimental hope. According to Tocqueville, it is supported by something deeply rooted in human nature: "It was not man who implanted in himself the taste for what is infinite and love of what is immortal; these lofty instincts are not the offspring of his capricious will; their steadfast foundation is fixed in human nature and they exist in spite of his efforts. He may cross and distort them; destroy them he cannot" (II, 134). This is true always and everywhere. In a democracy, the pursuit of material well-being may for a time distract men from these loftier needs. But as this pursuit becomes ever more successful and absorbing, it prepares the way for a backlash. America offers substantial evidence of this through its periodic outbursts of "a fanatical and almost wild spiritualism" (II, 134).

Tocqueville's account of religion in America necessarily focuses on Christianity. What are the implications of his analysis for democracy in non-Christian lands? Tocqueville himself raises the question of Muslim countries (II, 23), predicting that democracy will not fare well under Islam because the latter's teaching makes it much harder to separate religion and politics. To date, history has confirmed this prediction. On the other hand, Tocqueville's treatment of Christianity itself shows how much it had to be transformed (and even deformed) in order to work in a democracy. At the same time, his discussion of both religious morality and the immortality of the soul show how little might be required of a religion in a democracy.

The continued strength of religiosity in America compared to all other Western democracies and the relative success of the United States tend to support Tocqueville's understanding of the role of religion in democracy. So too does the current character of that religiosity, which reflects the religious transformations Tocqueville observed, predicted, or recommended. The failure of the communist movement, which made the propagation of atheism a principle of the regime, also seems to support his view. Tocqueville was careful to insist that the exact form taken by democracy in America would not be necessary or appropriate for other countries. It may be the case, however, that over the long run other democracies will not thrive unless religion plays a role similar to that which it has played in America.