Does democracy need religion?

“Does the democratic form of government need to be anchored in religious values?”

Before I attempt to answer such a question, I want to be clear about two distinct concepts: “democratic form of government” and “religious values.”

As a political scientist with special interest in comparative democratization, I’ve frequently wrestled with the thorny question of what “democracy” means. Like most contemporary scholars, I settled on a definition proposed by Robert Dahl as expanded upon by others. According to this definition, democracy is a system of government in which people govern themselves by means of certain institutions. First among these, of course, are free, fair, and competitive elections. But also such things as the rule of law, protection for basic civil liberties and political rights, measures that provide horizontal and vertical constraints on leaders, and civilian authority over the military. One of my favorite definitions comes from Adam Przeworski: “Democracy is a system in which parties lose elections.” Only in democracies do those in power willingly step aside and hand power to their opponents.

It’s important to point out what democracy is not. To say that democracy is a “system of government” tell us nothing about what kinds of decisions such governments make. As Philippe Schmitter and Terry Karl make clear, democracies are not necessarily wealthier, more efficient, more capitalist, or even more stable than non-democracies. What distinguishes democracy is the way in which decisions are made.

A broad definition of religion could include any ideological system. Communism, for example, is a secular ideology. Like religion, it provides a value system, identifies the individual’s place in society, seeks to explain why the world works the way it does, and provides a blueprint for establishing a better life. A number of secular and religious figures have sought to integrate the theology and ideology. Adherents of Liberation Theology sought to provide a “Marxist” interpretation of the gospels that emphasized duty to the poor, condemned excessive wealth, and sought to establish a “kingdom of heaven” on earth. The Critical Theorists of the Frankfurt School sought to expand Marxism by providing it with eschatology, rejecting crude positivism and historicism, and emphasizing higher, less “material” values.

A narrow definition excludes “secular” ideologies, focusing only on “theistic” ones. These would include monotheistic Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and Sikhism as well as polytheistic Hinduism and Shinto. What of Buddhism? Strictly speaking, Buddhism is not a “theistic” belief system. Taoism and Confucianism, often described as “religions,” are Eastern secular philosophical systems. Yet Confucianism and Taoism, Shinto and Buddhism, and a host of other minor religions ranging from animistic practices in Ghana to Santería witchcraft in Cuba to Scientology in Los Angeles serve as the foundation for social values throughout the world.

Every society that has ever existed has relied extensively on some sort of “value” system codified and expressed through public ceremonies and iconography, sacred texts, or intensely personal faiths. And, since every society has had some sort of political system—whether a monarchy, a republic, an egalitarian commune, or a democracy—the relationship between political system and cultural values are difficult to untangle.

Yet those political systems we recognize as “democratic” have historically distanced themselves from strict adherence to any one single religious doctrine. The ancient Athenians were deeply pious to their many gods, but they made their decisions based on arguments made by citizens in the Assembly. The Romans did the same, relying on the oratory of figures like Cicero and Cato, rather than on the advice of their priests. This stands in contrast with the Hebrews, who, though recognized as pious, are recognized neither as democrats nor as republicans. Our Founding Fathers accepted the imperfectability of man and relied on human reason, rather than scripture, as a guide to policy. Today we recognize their experiment as a democratic republic. We don’t think of John Calvin’s Geneva or William Bradford’s Plymouth Colony in quite the same way.

This leads to a rather odd conclusion: No society exists without an underlying set of values to bind its members together, give meaning to the individual, and provide norms that balance the needs of the many with the private desires of the individual. The earliest value systems of any society—upon which later secular philosophies build upon—were “religious” values. And individuals always bring their values to the public sphere. Thus, no democracy has ever existed in a society that was not grounded (to some extent) in “religious” values. But democracy also distances itself from those very values. In other words, every democracy comes into being “anchored” in religious values, but no democracy clings exclusively to them.

The reason is simple and goes back to yet another definition of democracy. Juan Linz defines democracy as a “temporary” form of government. Unlike religion, which is universal, infinite, and timeless, democracy is particular, finite, and temporary. Democracy cannot endure the totalizing certainty of religious dogma because democratic citizens—if they are democratic citizens—surrender the certainty of their convictions as applied to their fellow citizens. Religions can be tolerant. But democracies must be tolerant; otherwise, they cease to be democracies at all. Recalling Przeworski’s definition, democratic citizens are willing to lose elections (whether presidential or legislative elections, ballot initiatives, or court decisions) and concede defeat—even if only temporary defeat—no matter how vehemently they disagree with their opponents.

Thus, I would expand the statement about the relationship between democracy and religious values by emphasizing the statement’s implied pluralism. Democracy is inevitably anchored in religious values. In other words, democracy is anchored in no one particular individual religion, but in the many faiths and practices in our diverse world—or at the very least our immediate community. Democracy becomes, then, not a means by which we better express or advance our individual religious convictions, but instead a means by which we co-exist with others by preventing any one from imposing his or her convictions on the rest. In this way, democracy becomes an ecumenical undertaking. Not to make our government more theocratic, but to bring our religious values to the public sphere in free, fair, and open competition. The purpose should not be to seek to transform our political community into a “City of God” on earth, but rather to bring down our “better angels” to the service of an imperfect “City of Man.” This is the kind of religious value that democracy sorely needs today, one in which we “render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and unto God the things that are God’s.”