Morality pays in politics

“We need more religion in politics, not less,” wrote David Aaronovitch, catching me off guard. For the first time ever, I found myself in agreement with him.

I don’t think Mr Aaaronovitch has finally found God. It’s just that someone must have told him that the two Testaments are the only reliable source of public morality in the West. And it’s public, rather than private, morality that has a bearing on politics. The distinction is vital.

A naturally good man doesn’t have to consult Exodus or Matthew to act morally. He just knows what’s right and tries to lives accordingly.

But what if his idea of right and wrong differs from mine, mine from yours and yours from theirs? How do we settle our differences without resorting to violence? The answer is that some universal moral standard is essential for society to stay cohesive, and such universality can only come from one source.

Since the Church is the depository and guardian of Christian morality, one of its legitimate functions is to sit in judgement over politics, pointing out its deviations from moral commandments.

After all, when Christ said that his kingdom is not of this world, he left his audience in no doubt that his kingdom is higher than this world. That empowered his church to act as a sort of high-court judge of morality.

This is reasonably straightforward. But that’s where Niccolò Machiavelli comes in, the tomes of The Prince and Discourses tucked under his arm. A government, he says, must be guided by state necessity, which takes precedence whenever it’s in conflict with conventional morality.

Machiavelli’s books are – or should be – compulsory texts of political science, and his thinking was much more nuanced than those who haven’t read him believe. But it’s true that sometimes a moral political act by a statesman may have tragic – ultimately evil – consequences for his flock.

Yet my contention is that morality and political expediency overlap more often than not. We are so used to politicians cynically pursuing short-term electoral gains at any cost that we lose sight of morality as a possible exercise in political pragmatism.

Had European governments put morality above what they mistakenly perceived as raison d’état in the early 20^th century, the First World War wouldn’t have broken out. Millions of lives would have been saved, and Europe wouldn’t have signed its collective suicide note.

Then the countries of the Entente had both the legal right and moral duty to crush Bolshevik Russia at birth. Lenin had allied himself with the losing side, making Russia a legitimate target for rough treatment. Instead, European governments chose to make political hay while the sun of their demob-happy populations shone.

The most evil regime in history was thus weaned to maturity, and its close rival for that distinction appeared just over a decade later.

That pushed the button for the Second World War, which again could have been prevented by moral action on the part of France and Britain. Instead, the West grabbed the instant profits resulting from a massive transfer of technology to Stalin, which enabled him to build the world’s most formidable military machine.

That was an even-handed policy, for at the same time Western financial and industrial corporations were doing brisk business with Hitler too. The fact that Hitler was openly preparing for war was swept under the same carpet that already covered Stalin’s similar preparations.

At any time between 1936 and 1939, resolute, morally motivated action by Britain and France could have prevented an all-out war. However, they chose… well, you know what they chose. Munich.

Since Mr Aaronovitch has never before advocated more religion in politics or anywhere else, one has to assume that those events of modern history failed to awaken his moral sense. That awakening must have been prompted by Putin’s bandit raid on the Ukraine, what with its endless supply of gruesome photos and TV sequences.

It’s not just the immorality of Western policies towards Russia that has produced the fascist regime now threatening us all. The issue is multifaceted, with some facets reflecting Russian history, others her national character, still others the evil gang forcing its way to power.

Yet what is beyond doubt is that the West had the power to make sure Putin’s regime, however wicked it may be, stayed on the straight and narrow. For it was Western transfers of finance and technology that put muscle on the bare bones of post-Soviet Russia. And it’s Western billions exchanged for gas that are still injecting red plasma and testosterone into the veins of the Russian monster.

Not only is the ensuing situation fraught with every manner of danger, including that of a nuclear holocaust, but, even barring that, it will now take the West trillions to counter the Russian threat – not the mere billions it realised from unrestricted trade with the evil regime. (Everything I say about Russia also goes for China, which could potentially become even more dangerous.)

It would have been both expedient and moral to tie any injection of capital or technology to verifiable and enforceable guarantees of good conduct. In 1999, when Putin took over, the West was in a position of power, able to dictate terms.

At the same time, it would have been both expedient and moral to eliminate any dependency on strategic materials supplied by evil regimes, especially those harbouring aggressive designs. Above all, this concerns energy, the most vital strategic resource of modern economies.

Had Western governments not pursued their suicidal and therefore deeply immoral ‘green’ policies, had they refused to kowtow to political pressures (largely financed by evil regimes with a vested interest in our reliance on their hydrocarbons), had they not wantonly destroyed or severely compromised their own energy sources, we wouldn’t be heading for a massive recession. And Putin’s war monster would have been exsanguinated.

The same way of thinking applies to domestic policies as well.

It would be both moral and expedient to foster individual responsibility, not collective security. It would be both moral and expedient to withdraw unlimited financial assistance from young able-bodied people. It would be both moral and expedient to reduce the state’s share in the economy. It would be both moral and expedient to punish crime with deterrent severity. It would be both moral and expedient to return to a system of selective education, in the knowledge that the ideologically motivated non-selective kind creates an illiterate population.

This anaphora of expedient morality comes from scriptural sources directly or indirectly. Therefore, one would agree with Mr Aaronovitch that our established Church should be in an ideal position to hold the state to account, to judge its morality and find it wanting.

Yet popping into my mind is the lapidary question posed in Griboyedov’s great comedy Woe to Wit: “And who are the judges?”

The Church of England used to be described as ‘the Conservative Party at prayer’. Now it’s more in the nature of the Labour Party on an Extinction Rebellion march, or on a rally flying rainbow flags.

Looking at its prelates, such as Welby and his predecessor, who honestly called himself a “hairy Lefty”, one isn’t imbued with confidence in their capacity to act as moral judges of politics.

I can’t think offhand of a single destructive, and therefore immoral, social policy they have condemned. The list of such policies that they condoned, on the other hand, is as long as the distance between London and either Athens or Jerusalem.

So, while I agree with the sentiment expressed in Mr Aaronovitch’s headline, I think it should be profitably edited to read: “We need more real religion in politics, not less”. There, it makes sense now.