Benedict Spinoza is the first philosophical proponent of liberal democracy. In his Theologico-Political Tractate he calls for the liberation of philosophy from theology and for the subordination of religion to politics. Though Spinoza may have not influenced the American Founding Fathers directly, both the clarity and the paradoxes of his arguments are perhaps the best guide to understanding better the present-day conflicts over religion and politics in the United States. Spinoza's insistence on the prerogative of the political sovereign to exercise absolute authority in the sphere of moral action necessarily complicates religious values. But the "inconveniences" resulting from liberal democracy are justified in terms of justice.

It is safe to say that the founding of the United States as the world's first liberal democracy inaugurated a new phase in the relationship between religion and politics.

It was not as such the first political fruit of the modem philosophical and political movement known as the Enlightenment. It was, however, the first wholly new fruit or order to emerge from the Enlightenment's attempt to effect a radical transformation in the relationship between religion and politics, a transformation whereby the role of religion in politics would be sharply reduced or as we say today religion and politics would be separated. Perhaps most precisely as the first wholly liberal and wholly democratic regime, the United States was the first country to embody fully both these strands of Enlightenment thought.

Due to this role and place in the history of the relationship of religion and politics as well as the longevity of its experiment and the unequaled experience it has accumulated thereby, the American form of liberal democracy is often understood and perhaps rightly so to be the purest and most definitive form of the attempt to combine democratic government with the separation of religion and politics.¹

America and America's self-understanding appear then to offer the dearest understanding of what liberal democracy is and more specifically what the relationship of religion and politics is in a liberal democracy.

Certain it is that the United States through its Constitution, as amended by the First Congress nearly 200 years ago, has and offers two simple principles for defining the relationship of religion and politics: (1) the prohibition of any national establishment of religion or the separation of church and state as it is more commonly expressed, (2) the free exercise of religion.

Nevertheless, simplicity may not always yield clarity, and this seems to be the case with respect to these principles. It is at least an observable fact that the character of the relationship between religion and politics continues to be disputed in American political life often vigorously, as was the case in the past decade. Moreover these disputes, as understood by the parties, have not arisen from any self-conscious rejection of these principles. Indeed all relevant parties base their arguments on adherence to these principles.

There seem to be several reasons for American confusion concerning the relationship of religion and politics. In the first place while it is absolutely clear that there may not be a national establishment of religion, it has not been similarly clear what an establishment of religion is. It is true that agreement exists on all sides that the federal government cannot establish the rite of any particular church or religious group as a national religion. After that, as a whole host of issues, legislation and constitutional litigation demonstrates, the question becomes disputed and murky.

At least and probably more important is the fact that the right to free exercise of religion has been and continues to be understood frequently as legitimating the introduction of "religious concerns into political life, through political and legislative campaigns. Though the Supreme Court may ultimately decide that the legislative or executive result of some religious or quasi-religious initiative is unconstitutional, this does not and has not prevented in practice a great deal of intermingling of religious and political sentiment and activity prior to such a determination. That is to say that whether or not this understanding of free exercise is correct, the fact is that religion and politics are very much mixed together in American political life.

In this century alone, there have been a number of such cases, including the temperance, civil-rights, anti-Vietnam War, anti-abortion, and the sanctuary movements and even efforts to pass various kinds of economic legislation. Except for the temperance movement they are all of recent vintage.

This leaves, of course, the relationship between, not to mention separation of, religion and politics extremely ambiguous. The cases cited above as well as others which might be mentioned suggest that the level of religious involvement in American political life may be growing.

They also point to another distinctive feature. For the most part the concerns associated with contemporary theological-political activity are frequently not religious in that narrow sense of the term which refers to matters of worship and ritual. For the most part they are about what are otherwise called "moral" questions.

In the light of the concerns which animated the Enlightenment, its various forms of political thought, and of course also the American Founders, these phenomena of American political life cannot help but put some important questions for both the theory and practice of political life. Is the ambiguity and confusion of American political life concerning the relationship of religion and politics an unintended and unexpected consequence of its regime or not? Is it peculiar to American history or experience or characteristic of liberal democracy as such?

In attempting to answer this question or at a minimum gain further clarity about the problem, it seems extremely useful to turn to the works of the early modern philosopher Benedict Spinoza.

At the outset, it must be said that this is not because the writings of Spinoza had a particularly significant impact on the American Founders and Founding. Indeed there may have been no direct influence. Nor is it even because the specific political teachings of Spinoza present principles of government that are in complete conformity with American ones. For to take only one example, in contrast with the American principle of the separation of church and state Spinoza seems to have proposed their unification.

Nevertheless, Spinoza may be highly instructive for several reasons. To begin with, although Spinoza may have had little impact on the men who founded the world's first liberal democratic country, he was the first philosophic proponent of liberal democracy and is as a result the "founder" of liberal democracy as such. His most famous work, the Theologico-Political Tractate announces by its very title its concern with the relationship of religion and politics and is in fact extensively if not exclusively concerned with the development and acceptance of political teachings which would subordinate religious authority and activity to political authority, and thereby remove religion as a disturbing factor from political life. It is true that this teaching culminates in the recommendation of the establishment of national churches. It also, however, proposes freedom of religion and adds to that the recommendation of democracy as the best form of government, and thereby amounts to the first advocacy of liberal democracy in the ordinary meaning of that term.

Without doubt this mixture of recommendations will seem paradoxical to contemporary understanding, especially American understanding, but as there has been occasion to note contemporary understanding, not to mention practice, entails paradoxes of its own.

Inasmuch as Spinoza was the "founder" of liberal democracy he was in a position to, indeed incurred the necessity of, considering comprehensively and profoundly the grounds and complexities of this wholly new political understanding and initiative. This as will be seen, he did with great vigor and skill. The paradoxicality of his own treatment suggests that the problems contemporary political life have their origins in the problem of religion and politics as such. Spinoza's treatment would appear to be among the very best, perhaps the best, guide for an understanding of these questions.

But this is not all. While Spinoza may have had little direct impact on and responsibility for American politics or for that matter modern politics in general, it is indisputable that he has had a very great impact on the relationship of religion and politics. For through his founding of the modern science of biblical interpretation he has had an immense influence on modern religious life, both religious thought and sentiments. This influence continues to the present. While it has long had a profound influence on Protestantism and Judaism, only lately has it come to be incorporated into Catholic thought and teaching.2

This means to say that Spinoza is not merely a guide to understanding the problem of religion and politics in general or even merely liberal democracy. He is rather also the "founder" of the kind of religion many contemporary citizens of liberal democracy actually bring to bear in contemporary political life, and therewith a guide to the understanding of it.

In present circumstances, one sees this most powerfully and clearly in the general and common tendency to identify religion with morality To put it mildly this identification was hardly self-evident in Spinoza's time and its present currency is the fruit of Spinoza's efforts to effect a transformation. Moreover, this current general tendency has an additional distinctive feature which may crudely be described as the assimilation of two moral virtues, justice and charity, to one another. This too has its origins in Spinoza's arguments about the proper understanding of religious morality within political life. With the promise that all this produces, we turn now to Spinoza himself.

All of Spinoza's three major works, the Ethics, the Political Treatise, and of course the Theologico-Political Tractate, have an important bearing upon either the subjects of religion or politics or both. Still, present purposes dictate a focus on that one of his works which is most directly concerned with the problem of religion and politics, indeed one which announces this theme in its title, the Theologico-Political Tractate.3

Such a limit hardly makes the task more manageable, since as the title implies, the whole of this work is devoted to the problem of religion and politics. It begins with a very long and complicated discussion of the Hebrew Bible, comprising ten chapters, whose leading theme and aim is the separation or liberation of philosophy from theology. This discussion obviously can and does have an important bearing upon the topic of the separation of religion and politics.

At the end of the first ten chapters, Spinoza's primary goal of liberating philosophy from theology is still not, by his lights, accomplished. It becomes so only through the discussion presented in Chapters 11-15 which deal with the status of the Gospels, the proper definition of faith and finally the proper relationship of philosophy and theology.

In the remaining five chapters, Spinoza takes up new and more directly political themes. He begins with a presentation of his own political philosophy and concludes in the last two chapters with the application of that teaching to the relationship of religion and politics. In between he devotes two chapters to renewed biblical interpretation which focuses on an analysis of the character of the Hebrew Commonwealth and its significance for establishing the harmony of his philosophy with biblical revelation. This analysis as well as other aspects of his biblical analysis are continued in the final two chapters which, as was just mentioned, are devoted to the relationship of religion and politics.

As can easily be appreciated, the richness of Spinoza's discussion can be as much a burden as a delight and the whole of his discussion and its bearing upon the separation of religion and politics would be extremely hard to summarize let alone treat but for the fact that Spinoza himself offers such a summary in the final two chapters of the Tractate. For in addition to the fact that they are expressly devoted to the proper relationship of religious and political authority from the philosophic perspective established in Chapter 16, they combine this with both the results and some examples of Spinoza's biblical interpretation.

In light of these features and the convenience which they provide, we will focus on these two chapters. It should, however, be noted that doing so necessarily involves inconveniences of its own.

These include both the neglect of Spinoza's primary theme-the liberation of philosophy from theology-and a full appreciation of his biblical interpretations and especially their complications. However, as Spinoza tells us, few things in human life are without some inconvenience, least of all the relationship of religion and politics.4

At the beginning of Chapter 19, Spinoza takes up where he apparently left off at the end of Chapter 16 or the beginning of Chapter 16, in defining the rights of the political sovereign. In his earlier discussion, Spinoza presented his own version of the modern natural right teaching and its political consequences.

According to that presentation, man's natural rights flow from his natural desires, especially the desire for self-preservation, and are equivalent to his power to enforce such desires.5 As unbounded as this right is, in principle, the chief object of this right, self-preservation or peace and security, proves difficult to obtain in the state of nature. For this reason, men form polities or enter into them after they are formed. In so doing, they transfer all of their natural right to the political sovereign which may be either one person, several or many. Since Spinoza regards the act of forming any political society as essentially democratic in character and for the additional reason that political democracies are most consistent with the natural individual liberty which underlies political foundings, he has a preference for political democracy Still any political sovereign as sovereign has an absolute right of command or the right to determine what activities are lawful and what are not. More precisely, Spinoza declares that the political sovereign has the right to control as much as he can control. The theoretical limitation is the result of the practical difficulty of ordering men to feel and think exactly what the sovereign might like.

In Chapter 19, Spinoza, building upon and continuing his discussion of political sovereignty, devotes himself to enunciating and establishing the view that the sovereign has the same absolute right to command with respect to "spiritual rights" or religion as he does with "temporal rights."6 Indeed the political sovereign is the "interpreter and champion" of spiritual rights or religion. As Spinoza makes clear his view is directed against those who "deny that the right of deciding religious questions belongs to the sovereign power and refuse to acknowledge it as the interpreter of Divine right. They accordingly assume full license to accuse and arraign it."

Before turning to combat with this view, Spinoza clarifies the sovereign's right and apparently limits it, by stipulating that by spiritual rights he means the "outward observances of piety and the external rites of religion not of piety itself nor of inward worship of God."

This definition may at first appear to correspond to some distinction between public and private piety, and be mainly designed to enunciate the right of the sovereign to establish public forms of worship and religious ritual. While it certainly does the latter, it does not simply leave a sphere of private piety outside the authority of the sovereign.

This emerges from the definition of piety or faith Spinoza had earlier presented and which he repeats in this chapter, somewhat later on. This definition emerged from his discussion of the character and authority of Scripture. According to that definition of piety or biblical piety and faith, faith consists entirely of obedience to God.7 But obedience to God does not consist in obedience or adherence to any particular opinion but to His command to love one's neighbor. The latter in turn consists of the practice of justice and charity. While such obedience to God will necessarily depend upon opinions about Him, it can and indeed does rest on a whole variety of such opinions, any one of which is satisfactory so long as it produces expressions of obedience in the form of just and charitable works. As Spinoza puts it in his earlier discussion, "If his works be good, he is faithful, however much his doctrine may differ from the rest of the faithful. . . For obedience implies faith and faith without works is dead."8 In the present chapter, he formulates it somewhat differently by declaring that "the Kingdom of God consist entirely in rights applied to justice and charity or to true religion."9

We may note in passing that this interpretation of faith and piety is the cornerstone of his liberation of philosophy from theology. What is more immediately relevant here is the fact that for all practical purposes true religion or piety appears to consist only in just and charitable works. These, however, are absolutely subject to the rights of the sovereign, as Spinoza makes clear in this chapter. Indeed insofar as justice is concerned, it is hard to see how its absolute authority over spiritual rights is any different from its authority over temporal rights. The only thing in this regard that Chapter 19 adds is the denial of any right of appeal to a Divine right outside of the authority of the sovereign. This is based on the assertion that "religion can only acquire the force of right by means of those who have the right to command, and that God only rules among men through the instrumentality of earthly potentates."10 This assertion is justified by appeals to both experience and Scripture.

At all events, according to Spinoza, the sovereign s rights in matters spiritual eventually prove to cover religious worship, ritual and morality. The only thing exempt is the inward worship of God. Thus what appears at first to be a fairly limited right of the sovereign proves to be very far-reaching. Its breadth is expressed rather well by Spinoza's statement concluding his discussion of the rights of sovereigns to hold priestly office. "We cannot, therefore, doubt that the daily sacred rites . . . are under the sole control of the sovereign power; no one, save by the authority of such sovereign, has the right or power of administering them, of choosing others to administer them, of defining; or strengthening the foundations of the Church and her doctrines; of judging on questions of morality or acts of piety; of receiving any into the Church or excommunicating him therefrom or lastly of providing for the poor"11

There still, however, remains to be considered the one area exempt from the authority of the sovereign, the inward worship of God. For despite the apparently limited character of this exemption, Spinoza devotes the whole of the next chapter to discussing it. While at first quite narrowly drawn, his treatment issues in a proposal for a somewhat broader area of "religion," free from the direction of the sovereign.

Strictly speaking, inward worship of God represents no more than the feelings and opinions people may have about God.12 These are exempt from the sovereign's control for about the same reason that all opinions and feelings are; they are not directly accessible to it and therefore cannot be controlled.

Left at that, the limitations of the sovereign's rights in matters of religion would be practically speaking nil. However, Spinoza does not leave it at that, but proposes an expansion of this limitation to include a limited but still somewhat wider freedom of speech. In fact the justification of such freedom is the leading theme of this chapter and according to it, also Spinoza's principal object simply, as he had declared in Chapter 16. (Whether this means the principal object of the book as a whole or just the second part beginning with Chapter 16 is not immediately clear.)

In presenting his proposal for freedom of speech, Spinoza admits that speech, being an action, is easier to control than opinion. Moreover, he is also obliged to admit that opinion or "judgment can be biassed in many ways, and to an almost incredible degree, so that while exempt from direct external control it may be so dependent on another man's words, that it may fitly be said to be ruled by him."13

Hence Spinoza's argument does not rest upon the character of a sovereign's "strict rights, but its proper course of action" or on what is most useful to the preservation of its authority.14

The problems in attempting to control speech are, according to Spinoza, several. In the first place, human opinion is extremely diverse. Secondly, because of the confidence men have in their own judgment, it is difficult for them to keep silent. For they are "most prone to resent the branding as criminal of opinions which they believe to be true, and the proscription as wicked of that which inspires them with piety towards God and man."15

As a result, laws which attempt to proscribe opinion are almost always useless "for those who hold that opinions proscribed are sound, cannot possibly obey the law."16 Given these characteristics, such laws are not merely useless. Worse still they inspire sedition and strife. By endorsing the principle that the law can determine opinion, they encourage various parties within society to attempt to acquire that right for themselves. As evidence of this consequence, Spinoza offers the history of schisms within the church which have arisen "from the attempt of the authorities to decide by law the intricacies of theological controversy."17

Accordingly, Spinoza concludes that it is impossible and dangerous for the sovereign to try to exercise its rights over speech. This danger affects all sovereigns even monarchs but most of all a democratic sovereign. Its affect on a democracy carries particular weight since as he repeats in this chapter, he regards democracy as the most natural form of government. Moreover, he adduces another positive reason on behalf of freedom of speech: that the true aim of government is not simply security but liberty and liberty means first and foremost the exercise of one's own judgment.

Despite the vigor of Spinoza's appeal for freedom of speech, he does not leave it simply unlimited. For he "cannot deny that authority may be as much injured by words as by actions; hence ... its unlimited concession would be most baneful."18

Spinoza, therefore, imposes two limitations. The first is that the sovereign should retain and exercise the right to forbid seditious opinions such as that "the supreme power has no rights over him or that promises ought not to be kept or that everyone should live as he pleases or other doctrines of this nature in direct opposition to the above mentioned contract, is seditious not so much from his actual opinions and judgments as from the deeds they involve."

The second limitation is a strict control over these "deeds" or any others not lawfully authorized. Spinoza lays down the principle that people may be permitted to propose changes in the laws but are strictly forbidden from behaving in accord with such changes unless and until they are authorized by the sovereign.

Apart from other things (such as a rejection of the "right" to civil disobedience), this means that if religious opinion is free to be expressed, religious action is still entirely subject to the sovereign. Hence in principle it would appear that there can only be one form of worship.

On this point, however, Spinoza's discussion suggests some ambiguity or latitude. For in justifying his proposal for freedom of speech, he defends its possibility and utility on the basis of the experience of the city of Amsterdam. "In this most flourishing state and most splendid city, men of every nation and religion live together in the greatest harmony."19 Since the religions to which he refers here may be presumed to have defined themselves in terms of religious actions as well as doctrines, his example suggests the legitimacy or at least viability of the toleration of various forms of religious worship.

Still, Spinoza closes his discussion of religion and politics by declaring that "the safest way for a state is to lay down the rule that religion is comprised solely in the exercise of charity and justice and that the rights of the ruler in sacred, no less than in secular matters, should merely have to do with actions, but that every man should think what he likes and say what he thinks."

It would appear then, at the very least, that the toleration of nonestablished religious rituals is more completely a matter of discretion than the toleration of religious speech.

These, then, are the general outlines of Spinoza's view of the proper relationship of religion and politics. While it is not exactly a collection of bare or dry bones, some further consideration of his discussion is necessary to bring his vision fully to life and make clear his intentions and expectations. For while the boldness of his diction makes some things tolerably clear, it can also obscure some aspects of his view, in particular certain problematic aspects which it already dimly suggests. Let me try to present this mixture of clarity and obscurity.

This mixture is partially expressed and first presents itself through a certain contrast between the tone and tendencies of the two chapters we have considered. It is easy enough to see that Spinoza's rhetoric maintains throughout the principle of the absolute right of any political sovereign to interpret and define any and all religious actions including religious speech. It is also clear that this assertion has the consequence of and is directed toward denying to any ecclesiastical leader or group not constituted and established by the political sovereign, a right to appeal to an authority outside the political sovereign. Put somewhat differently, Spinoza urges a new kind of unification of religious and political authority in order to "separate" politics from the influence of traditional kinds of religious leadership, which asserted the right to appeal not only to an alternative source of authority but a higher one, that is, Divine Law and Right. Only by insisting on the absolute right of the political sovereign in spiritual matters can such appeals and the trouble they cause be completely eliminated. Spinoza means to bring "peace" between religious and political authority by making them identical in principle.

What is somewhat less clear is how much Spinoza means for them to be identical in fact or how vigorously Spinoza thinks the sovereign ought to exercise the right it has. As we have already noted, Spinoza recommends a self-limitation of the sovereign with respect to religious speech. This as Spinoza indicates is not incompatible with vigorous involvement of the sovereign in other religious matters, whose full expression would be an established church. Nevertheless, it is not clear whether Spinoza really or ultimately means to encourage this. The doubts on this score are raised by several features of his discussion: the first is that his assertion of the rights of the sovereign is initially presented as an assault on the most extreme alternative, the exercise of such rights by ecclesiastical authorities. Since Spinoza indicates that his ultimate aim in this discussion is to establish freedom of speech, the ultimate force of Chapter 19 is rendered somewhat unclear. Moreover, Spinoza's discussion is meant to apply in the first instance to the rights of the political sovereign as such, not any particular kind of sovereign, such as monarchy, aristocracy or democracy But Spinoza also indicates that these different kinds of sovereigns or regimes are neither simply identical in their relationship to religion nor simply equivalent in rank. In particular he indicates that it is monarchies which have the greatest power in matters of religious speech especially in comparison with democracies, which can permit and may even require greater freedom of speech.20 In light of this distinction between monarchies and democracies one is forced to wonder whether there might not be other differences in the vigor with which they can and ought to approach religion. Might not, for example, an established church be more compatible and possibly necessary to a monarchy than a democracy? The importance of these questions is heightened by the fact that Spinoza indicates a preference for democracy, which according to him is the most natural and therefore best regime. Inasmuch as this preference makes him the "founder" of liberal democracy, the question these considerations lead to may be stated as follows: Did Spinoza maintain that an established church has an important role to play even in a liberal democratic state or did he ultimately look forward to a liberal democracy in our sense of the word? That is to say, did he see any role for a democratic sovereign in "religious" matters other than the administration of justice, that is, in such matters as charity and other aspects of personal morality?

I hasten to emphasize, that even if this question has some historical interest, it is not primarily a historical but practical question which attracts our attention: Would Spinoza endorse our own liberal democracy as the fulfillment of his intentions or would be retain some reservations? And if so why?

In addition to this set of questions, there is another which also emerges from certain contrasts between Chapter 19 and Chapter 20. These also concern the character of Spinoza's intentions but focus on the role opinion is supposed to have within religion. In Chapter 19 Spinoza emphasizes the view he has expressed throughout the book, that religion ought to be defined in terms of action rather than opinion, and especially moral action such as just and charitable works. This flows from and is consistent with both his attempt to liberate philosophy from theology and subordinate religion to politics. Nonetheless, in the next chapter, at the same time as he liberates speech he also liberates religion or religious groups to concern themselves with opinion. Indeed he seems to leave religious groups in the traditional sense without anything else to do but concern themselves with opinion.

These two tendencies may be traced to two related but different objectives, the liberation of philosophy from theology and the liberation of speech. Even though the latter is also meant to serve philosophy, one is forced to wonder whether Spinoza's concern with philosophy does not in practice have consequences which only coexist with one another uneasily.

It is true that the kinds of religious opinions which Spinoza contemplates in Chapter 20 may be presumed to be different from the kind he attacks throughout the rest of the book having undergone several transformations. In particular the religious opinion described in Chapter 20 must regard itself as no more than opinion, lacking any practical force other than that which the sovereign may grant.

Nevertheless, as Spinoza indicates in this chapter, such a demarcation is not easy for anyone to maintain since people often feel impelled to act on their opinions, especially religious ones. It is true that Spinoza's book has tried to overcome this predilection by establishing the absolute rights of the political sovereign. On the other hand, inasmuch as the main rhetorical tool of this effort is the argument that true religion consists in action, to the extent that this argument is effective and strict control of religious opinion is not maintained, it may encourage religious activism rather than the opposite.

This possibility, interesting in itself, obviously has a bearing for the question previously raised, that is, Spinoza's precise view of liberal democracy. For to the extent that religious opinion, even or precisely opinion transformed by Spinoza's teaching, threatens to leave the bounds Spinoza has circumscribed, it suggests that Spinoza may indeed be serious about the need for vigorous government action in matters of religion, that is in defining just and charitable works.

For at least partial answers to these questions, especially the issue of Spinoza's understanding of democracy and its requirements, it would appear most useful to turn to another of Spinoza's works, the Political Treatise. This work as distinguished from the Tractate, is designed to present Spinoza's political teaching directly and without the mediation of Scripture. It would therefore appear to be the place to go for a detailed account of the institutions and characteristics of democracy and its constituent elements. And so it might be since it does provide this kind of account. Unfortunately its discussion of democracy was left unfinished and was even scarcely begun. Moreover, even its discussion of monarchy and aristocracy, though extremely detailed in other respects, give only very brief treatments of religion and indeed refers the reader back to the Tractate. We are forced then to return to Chapters 19 and 20 and reconsider their discussion.

At the beginning of Chapter 19 Spinoza refers to both the truth of his doctrine and its utility. The latter refers to the underlying problem to which his teaching responds: the problem that certain religious claims are advanced as a "means of dividing the government and paving the way to their own ascendancy." Spinoza postpones the discussion of this problem till after the presentation of the truthfulness of his doctrine and solution. We, however, may find it more useful to reverse this order, having become more impressed with the accessibility of Spinoza's problems than his solutions. Even here we will encounter some difficulties.

As was just noted, Spinoza indicates at the very outset of Chapter 19 that his argument is directed toward those who "deny that the right of deciding religious questions belongs to the sovereign power" and thus "assume full licence to accuse and arraign it." The result, however, is only described much later. Speaking of "the cause of the frequent disputes on the subject of these spiritual rights in Christian states," he declares: "It seems monstrous that a question so plain and so vitally important should thus have remained undecided, and that the secular rulers could never obtain the prerogative without controversy nor without great danger of sedition and injury to religion."21

The problem, then, with which Spinoza is concerned is the civil strife caused by religion or rather the Christian religion. For despite some evidence to the contrary which Spinoza himself presents, he declares that the Hebrews were not affected by such disputes. While this much is plain, his precise understanding of the problem is at first presented somewhat obscurely, an obscurity first indicated by his assertion that those who deny the sovereign's rights in spiritual matters attempt both to divide the dominion and also to gain it for themselves. While it is obvious that both inclinations might create the conditions for strife, it is not as clear why the attempt to gain total dominion over politics might not resolve such disputes.

Let me briefly elaborate this problem. Spinoza begins by declaring that those who wish "to take this right [the right of interpreting spiritual rights] away from the sovereign power [are] desirous of dividing the dominion [and] from such divisions, contentions and strife will necessarily spring up."22 This is because the "weight spiritual right and authority carries in the popular mind" is so great that "those who wield [it] have the most complete sway over the popular mind."23

But as Spinoza goes on to say "those who seek to take this right away from the sovereign power do not merely seek to divide the dominion but aim to gain dominion for themselves."24 As Spinoza notes "what is left for the sovereign power to decide on, if this right be denied him? ... Everything would depend on the verdict of him who had the right of deciding and judging what is pious or impious; right or wrong."25

Despite or rather because of the clarity of Spinoza's analysis on this point, the precise nature of his complaint and the bearing of his proposal for reform becomes unclear. The difficulty is as follows: If the bearers of religious authority do in fact seek dominion, the problem of division and civil strife would seem to admit of another solution, one which is different in source but not different in form from Spinoza's. The unification of religious and political authority, through the submission of secular rulers to ecclesiastical direction.

This possibility is brought to mind by the one example of the problem of division Spinoza presents in this chapter and his characterization of it. This is the role of the papacy in politics and its influence on monarchs, especially the German emperors. About the popes he says that they were always able to interfere with the prerogatives of such monarchs not by "fire or sword" but with a "stroke of the pen." He concludes this discussion by saying "whereby we may easily see the force and power at the command of the Church and also how necessary it is for sovereigns to reserve such prerogatives for themselves."26

Now while we may more or less see that the papacy of Rome had great power and that this rested on the pen rather than the sword, we do not yet see, at least from Spinoza's account, why it is necessary for sovereigns to reserve such prerogatives for themselves to prevent division. Why might not the rule of the universal church itself resolve such divisions? Moreover, even if it is assumed that the papacy or Catholicism has a divisive effect, it is not yet clear why all Christian states are subject to divisive disputes. Put somewhat differently, we do not yet see why according to Spinoza Christian ecclesiastics could not join sword with pen and thus resolve the theological-political problem.

Spinoza finally answers this question by addressing the cause of the disputes over spiritual rights in Christian states. He does so because "if no cause for this state of things were forthcoming I could easily persuade myself that all I have said in this chapter is mere theorizing or a kind of speculative reasoning which can never be of any practical use."27 Thus Spinoza's whole enterprise seems to depend on this question.

Spinoza does, however, find a cause, a cause traceable to the origins of Christianity. When it was first founded, Christianity was a private, even secret religion and developed apart from political authority. Thus when it came to be adopted as an official religion by the rulers of the Roman Empire, the latter needed to be instructed in this religion by ecclesiastics, "who thereby gained a natural authority over the rulers which led them to be looked upon as vicars of God."28 This disability of the rulers might eventually have been transformed but for the fact that ecclesiastics found two means of maintaining their authority One was the institution of celibacy which prevented kings from becoming priests of this religion. To this barrier ecclesiastics added the multiplication of "the dogmas of religion to such an extent and so blending them with philosophy that their chief interpreter was bound to be a skilled philosopher and theologian and

to have leisure for a host of idle speculations."29 This it would appear is not a role a monarch could fulfill, since at a minimum he would lack the leisure which is required.

This account of Christianity or rather a certain part of its history does finally make clear why an ecclesiastical solution to the political problem is impossible in Spinoza's view. For over time, the core of Christianity has become its concern with opinion and thus its present priests or ministers could not easily become much more than men of the pen. Moreover, it would appear that in Spinoza's view the advent of the Reformation has not had a decisive effect on this characteristic of Christianity At all events he mentions that in his own country, Protestants such as the Remonstrants and Counter-Remonstrants have demonstrated this obsession with opinion.30 Finally it appears that even if ecclesiastics should happen to wield a sword, their rule would necessarily continue to be divisive. For owing to their more habitual concern with opinion, they would attempt to make politics serve the purposes of opinion by using it as an instrument for settling theological controversies. But this, in Spinoza's view, lies beyond what political power can really accomplish and thus such efforts would only provide a continual inspiration for strife.31

While this makes dear why the Christian church cannot itself provide the solution to the divisions it produces, it remains to be considered why the solution Spinoza actually proposes leaves opinion as the core of the concerns of nonestablished religions. Indeed, if anything this questions is more pressing and troublesome than ever.

In considering Spinoza's account of the problem of Christianity and politics and his approach to it, it is necessary to entertain the possibility that his solution ultimately envisions the disappearance of Christianity. This alternative is first brought to mind by the fact that Spinoza compares the Hebrew commonwealth or commonwealths to Christian states in a favorable light. To speak loosely, the advantages of the Hebrew commonwealth consisted in its concentration on action and relative disregard of opinion, as well as the unified framework of its institutions.32 The latter refers partially to the subordination of the priesthood to the monarchy. Still even its institutions were not perfect, which eventually resulted in civil divisions and the destruction of the state. Perhaps for this reason, during his discussion of how the sovereign may best order religion, Spinoza reserves his highest praise not for a Hebrew ruler but a Roman one

and a pagan at that, Manlius Torquatus.33 In any event, this example forces one to wonder whether pagan republics are Spinoza's model and goal.

No doubt this question deserves much discussion. Let me, however, suggest here that despite Spinoza's admiration for ancient republics, his own proposal does not contemplate their reintroduction. Rather Spinoza's politics presuppose and are meant to operate within an environment which will continue to be defined somehow by Christianity. There seem several reasons for this.

The first is that to proceed otherwise would be, to borrow a phrase, to engage in mere theorizing or a kind of speculative reasoning which can never be of any practical use. A more positive reason is based on Spinoza's view that religion is necessary or desirable for healthy political rule. For the "ultimate aim of government is not to rule or restrain by fear nor to exact obedience,"34 but to inspire obedience. This could of course take the form of rational appreciation of the necessity for obedience, an appreciation grounded in Spinoza's philosophy. No doubt Spinoza hopes and even expects that this will have some influence. Nevertheless his whole political teaching is based on the observation that men frequently are moved by irrational motives.35 Hence something else besides philosophy is likely to be necessary and religion would seem to be of great potential use. After all, it has the greatest sway over the popular mind, that is to say over the majority of men. Such considerations are relevant to the requirements of any kind of political sovereign, but perhaps especially a democratic one. Finally, while Christianity's confounding of philosophy and theology is an abuse against which Spinoza strained every effort, it also may imply a greater openness to philosophy than other forms of religion. This is perhaps not altogether surprising since according to Spinoza, Christianity is the universal revelation.36 Hence certain aspects of Christianity may be useful to Spinoza's objectives.

However that may be, it is obvious from Spinoza's analysis that if Christianity continues in some force, then opinion will also inevitably continue to play a major role in religious life. The question then is: How may this concern with opinion be kept within reasonable bounds?

Spinoza's answer to this question or the beginnings thereof are contained in some advice with which he closes Chapter 19, There he declares that rulers must "refuse to allow religious dogmas to be unduly multiplied or confounded with philosophy." This advice follows directly from Spinoza's analysis of the problem of Christianity and politics. Still this is easier said than done, especially for rulers, as that analysis itself shows. For this advice presupposes a condition of simplicity of opinion which does not now exist. Hence what is really required is an effort to unravel and reduce the number of the religious dogmas which now dominate religious thought and life. For this, it is safe to say rulers lack the capacity and leisure required. They thus require the assistance of other kinds of men able and inclined to perform this work.

As one learns from the overall character of this book, there is at least one such man ready to hand and ready to serve, Spinoza himself. Indeed Spinoza has already undertaken this task with the Tractate as a whole. In fine "theological" fashion, confounding theology and philosophy Spinoza has in this work presented the greatest simplification of biblical theology since Hillel the Elder was compelled to summarize the Bible while standing on one leg. But while the work is well begun, it requires for its continuation and completion freedom of speech, especially philosophic speech. It is then, through a kind of alliance between rulers and philosophers, that Spinoza's proposal can meet the problems it is designed to overcome.

But toleration of free speech is not all rulers will have to do in order to make this solution viable. For even philosophic simplification of theology seems to have some practical, if not theoretical, limits as emerges from Spinoza's account of the biblical basis of his political teaching in Chapter 19. In that discussion, Spinoza's basic principle is that Divine Right, that is, justice and charity, can only acquire the force of right and law through the rights of rulers. After establishing this principle, Spinoza sets out to describe the specific consequences of his interpretation, one of which is extremely striking.

He first declares that "duties towards one's country are the highest that man can fulfill."37 As a result "there can be no duty towards our neighbor which would not become an offence, if it involved injury to the whole state."38

By way of indicating the unusual "religious" implications of this view, he chooses to illustrate it with an example which would be absurd if not for its allusion to Scripture: "For instance, it is in the abstract my duty when my neighbor quarrels with me and wishes to take my cloak, to give him my coat also; but if it be thought that such conduct is hurtful to the maintenance of the state, I ought to bring him to trial, even at the risk of [his] being condemned to death."

Needless to say such a vision of what biblical or Christian "charity" may entail will appear rather paradoxical not to say monstrous to ordinary piety. Its paradoxicality is underscored by the fact that Spinoza does not so much as try to offer a text from the Bible. Instead he offers the pagan example of Manlius Torquatus who put his own son to death.

Spinoza's treatment of the question of the religious virtue and obligation of charity rounds out his discussion of religion and politics and is instructive in several ways. In the first place, it indicates that Spinoza's simplification of biblical teaching is even more far-reaching than his original reduction of religion to principles of just and charitable works. This was apparently still not sufficient and a further reduction or identification of charity to justice is required. This means to say that every aspect of religious activity as it is now understood is to be considered a political question and hence subject to the authority of the political sovereign.

Moreover, the extension of the sovereign's authority to questions of charity and its definition appears now to be not merely a right but a necessity. For the simple identification of charity and justice defies not only ordinary Christian sensibility but general common sense. Only a political sovereign with the authority and powers

Spinoza recommends could impose the acceptance of such a definition of charity.

Finally this discussion serves to make somewhat clearer his view of the vigor with which the political sovereign will exercise its role in religion, especially in a democracy. As was noted earlier, it was unclear just how vigorously Spinoza expected political sovereigns to exercise their authority and whether established churches would be the rule in the case of every kind of polity.

It is true that the latter question is still and must remain unresolved. Still what is clear is that the "politicization" of both the definition and exercise of all "religious" activity, especially, charitable works, means that every sovereign, including a democratic one, will play a very vigorous role.

Such observations still, of course, leave some questions unanswered, at least expressly.

Among them and by far the most important is whether or not Spinoza's various and ambiguous definitions and redefinitions of religion and piety tame religious threats to political authority or produce new forms of opposition. This Spinoza does not directly address. Nevertheless his treatment permits some suggestions. For by extending the sovereign's authority to even the most modest and generally private of religious activities, charitable works, Spinoza deprives religious opinion of every possible avenue of active expression.

It is true, as observed earlier, that this is likely to produce ever more concern and obsession with religious opinion, which was presented as a principal characteristic and vice of Christianity. However, what had originally appeared to be a liability might now be regarded as an advantage. At least by Spinoza's account of Christianity, if any religion is prepared to accept the lot he offers, it is Christianity.

Though it is obvious that Spinoza's view of the value of traditional religious speculation is quite low, as a political matter he can take comfort from the prospect of "mere theorizing or a kind of speculative reasoning which can never be of any practical use." To the extent then that religion may continue as an institution, it will seem to consist of no more than voluntary associations of people sharing the same opinions or at least an interest in elaborating them. Religion thus becomes a harmless if useless enterprise, not unlike a game or even hobby. It may attract fans but no fanatics.

In concluding this discussion and assessment of Spinoza's understanding of and response to the theological-political problem, it is only fair to begin by saying that his efforts truly do reflect and conform to the standard he set: to avoid mere theorizing and achieve a practical result.

This is most immediately evident in the fact that while his treatment does present the variety of ambiguities and paradoxes elucidated above, many of these may now be seen to stem from the practical circumstances which he addressed, religious as well as political. In particular they may be traced to particular characteristics of Christianity and are a reflection of the fact that his practical task was not and, as practical, could not be the overcoming of religion as such, but the overcoming of the political influence of the most politically relevant religion - Christianity. As was just noted this religion presents not only particular obstacles to his politics but particular opportunities as well.

Moreover it is also fair to observe that though his political program retains a paradoxical air, up to and including the recommendation of established religion and churches, it offered and in fact has achieved a real effect. For the contemporary theological-political landscape resembles, in many particulars, the vision which emerges from Spinoza's treatment.

Nevertheless, the current landscape of actual polities and their practice also presents some deviation from Spinoza's vision and recommendations. A more complete assessment of Spinoza's views requires then a reconsideration of some aspects of his teaching.

The most useful beginning point is Spinoza's treatment of charity, his assimilation of this to justice, and his attendant politicization of every moral aspect of religious activity. Not only is this contrary to common practice. As was noted it runs contrary to common sense, political and otherwise, inasmuch as this most private and apparently disinterested religious and moral impulse seems unlikely to represent a very great threat to political authority and public order. Moreover, Spinoza's insistence on the absolute spiritual rights of the political sovereign and hence the unification of church and state, seems to rest on the view that absolutely no religious work with an impact on other men, even this one, can remain outside the sovereign's definition and control.

This poses the question: Why is Spinoza's "liberal" policy so apparently harsh or illiberal? Is this really necessary or an aspect of Spinoza's teaching which proved to be unnecessary?

Unfortunately it is somewhat difficult to address this question inasmuch as Spinoza offers no example of the potentially dangerous character of charity other than the apparently ludicrous one noted earlier It is true that upon reflection this example points to a serious issue. For it is clear that any polity will and must seek to inspire hatred of foreigners in circumstances which involve conflict with other polities. This as Spinoza implies might be held to be incompatible with religious and especially Christian principles of charity. Still does this extreme case suffice to render all expressions of the charitable impulse the necessary preserve of political authority?

A few more Spinozistic examples might be helpful. Lacking those, recourse to some recent American experiences may be of some use.

As noted at the outset of this inquiry American politics has recently been witness to a host of political movements arising from or heavilv indebted to religious figures and leaders which call into question or even defy political authority What is most immediately relevant about these phenomena is that the religious justification for these efforts is often said to be the religious obligation to show charity toward one's fellow man. Unfortunately, the interpretation of these phenomena and their relation to Spinoza is complicated by the fact that just as frequently such charitable motives are understood to be identical with the requirements of justice or that charity and justice are identical. As this is precisely the understanding propounded by Spinoza, the complication arises that to the degree that these represent an example of the political problem of charity their problematic character owes something to Spinoza himself and not necessarily the primary phenomena confronted by Spinoza. A further complication is the fact that the word charity is often replaced by the word compassion, a word which owes a great deal of its contemporary force and meaning to a later philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Here, too, the question arises as to whether we are experiencing the primary phenomenon of religious charity

Despite and to some degree because of these complications, it is still possible to offer a summary if provisional account and assessment of Spinoza's teaching.

Spinoza's insistence on the need for the political sovereign to exercise absolute authority in the sphere of moral action presupposes the view that religiosity or the religious impulses in man has enormous vitality and influence over human beings. Current experience bears that out as well as the view that this impulse will seek out and find whatever avenue of expression is left open to it.

While it is true in current circumstances that Spinoza's redefinition of piety ironically abets such an outcome, from Spinoza's perspective this problem could be said to arise from a failure to follow his teaching to the letter.

This failure is, however, not altogether surprising. For what is distinctive about Spinoza's teaching is not so much the effort to subordinate religious authority to political authority but the attempt to combine this undertaking with a political life which gives active expression to political liberty. If there remains something paradoxical in Spinoza's teaching it is this attempted combination.

This difficulty would not, however, surprise Spinoza. In light of Spinoza's admiration of Machiavelli, it is doubtful that he was unmindful of the latter's dictum that the political problem is not only that men are rarely if ever entirely good but also that they are rarely entirely bad. In any event, he makes clear in his discussion that this combination is not the safest course for political life. Rather its defense or "justification" is that it is the most just arrangement consistent with practicality. Thus, while the attempt to combine the proper political role of human liberty with the proper political role of religion proves to involve "inconvenience," the demands of justice make them tolerable. In this respect, Spinoza's teaching appears peculiarly analogous to the revealed teachings it was intended to replace.

There is, however, a perhaps more critical and unanticipated consequence and problem of the liberation Spinoza sought and helped to effect. This is represented by the fact that the inconveniences to which modern political life are in principle exposed have been augmented by the failure of the modern philosophic tradition to maintain and continue Spinoza's perspective on a number of critical issues: the force and value of man's charitable or social impulses to begin with and ultimately the religious impulse as such. Indeed philosophy seems not only to have ceased to attempt to root out religiosity from the human soul but now seeks to encourage its reinvigoration. Whether this effort means a reappreciation of the original virtue of charity let alone its premodern philosophic analog, magnanimity, is, however quite another question.39

1. One should note that there are of course other modern regimes which have also had as their goal the separation of religion and politics, most importantly and interestingly the various Communist regimes. Indeed they go further than the American regime by attempting to eliminate religion altogether. These, however, have sought and been obliged to pursue this goal by forgoing democratic government in its original modern meaning: i.e., consent of the governed. They are therefore not liberal democracies and do not understand themselves as such.

2. Despite prolonged Catholic resistance to the historical school of biblical criticism, the latter has by now found its way not only into Catholic seminaries but into the pronouncements of the American Catholic Church. See the Bishops' Pastoral Letter on Catholic Social Teaching and the U.S. Economy, Part I, Par. 31. Reported in "Origins," NC documentary service, 15 November 1984, 14: 22/23.

3. Hereafter referred to as the Tractate. All quotations are taken from the Elwes translation: Works of Spinoza, vol. 1, trans. R. H. M. Elwes (New York: Dover Publications, 1951).

4. Tractate, chap. 20.

5. For this summary see chaps. 16 and 17.

6. Here and following the source is chap. 19.

7. See especially chap. 14.

8. Ibid.

9. Chap. 19.

10. Ibid.

11. Ibid.

12. This discussion summarized chap. 20.

13. Chap. 20.

14. Ibid.

15. Ibid.

16. Ibid.

17. Ibid.

18. Ibid.

19. Ibid.

20. Ibid.

21. Chap. 19.

22. Ibid.

23. Ibid.

24. Ibid.

25. Ibid.

26. Ibid.

27. Ibid.

28. Ibid.

29. Ibid.

30. Chap. 20.

31. Ibid.

32. Chap. 19.

33. Ibid.

34. Chap. 20.

35. See Tractate, Introduction.

36. Chap. 19.

37. Ibid.

38. Ibid.

39. See Leo Strauss, "Preface to Spinoza's Critique of Religion" in Liberalism, Ancient and Modem (New York: Basic Books, 1968), pp. 224-59 as well as his "Niccolo Machiavelli," in History of Political Philosophy, ed. Leo Strauss and Joseph Cropsey, 3rd ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987).