R: There Can Be No Saints in the Halls of Power

Two questions are at issue in this debate, one personal and the other institutional. First and most importantly, if power is naturally a corrupting influence, to what extent can well-meaning individuals hold positions of political authority while maintaining their integrity? The second, which should develop naturally from reflection upon the first, and which hopefully will occupy a somewhat smaller portion of the debate, regards the institutions within which authority lies. Is a political system which integrates moral or religious authority with civic authority a more fertile ground for good and “saintly” leaders than one which separates the two?

Those who believe that virtue is corrupted by power might find themselves in the affirmative. They understand that no virtuous person can long occupy a position of political authority without either growing weary of the effect it has on his soul, or joining his companions in their Machiavellian ways. Furthermore, one might argue that the very tension between one’s political and moral responsibilities renders impossible any combination of deeply held personal conviction with effective leadership. Leaders often find themselves in situations in which their obligations are divided—they cannot adequately fulfill all duties to all people, and so must choose between their neighbors and their families, their friends and their enemies, their people and their God. Those virtues of honesty, humility, and charity must so often be thrown out in favor of dissimulation, flattery, and greed. Noble lies must be told, alliances must be pretended, and decisions must be made which can only lead to ruin on one side and destruction on the other. Ultimately, the affirmative should argue, positions of political authority are fundamentally incompatible with an earnest pursuit of the good life, and civic institutions will always corrupt even the purest of intentions. The halls of power are no place for those who seek virtue.

But perhaps this is too pessimistic a view. There are many figures throughout history who combined capable leadership with personal conviction, and to whom we might point as examples of the ideal statesman. Edmund Burke, in whose name we gather this weekend, said the following: “To be a good Member of Parliament is, let me tell you, no easy task…to unite circumspection with vigor is absolutely necessary, but it is extremely difficult.” Leadership is difficult; there is no question about that. But as long as we are citizens of this or any nation, as long as we live in a world over which political machinery is exerted to practical effect, we are duty-bound to enter the public arena in some capacity. Yes, the social order is founded upon treachery and betrayal, and the halls of power are darkened by corruption and sin—but that is precisely why virtuous leaders are necessary. As Augustine said, “In view of this darkness that attends the life of human society, will our wise man take his seat on the judge’s bench, or will he not have the heart to do so? Obviously, he will sit; for the claims of human society constrain him and draw him to his duty; and it is unthinkable to him that he should shirk it.” The same necessity which constrains us to take the bench also guarantees that the duties of leadership can be executed in accordance both with the law and with our conscience. Political leadership is no easy task, but it is a necessary one. The fact that, when faced with a difficult question, we make a difficult choice renders us neither bad leaders nor unvirtuous people; it simply makes us human. We have never demanded perfection, not even from the saints.

Are certain systems uniquely disposed toward political compromise, and thus to the degradation of the conscience? Could the tension between political responsibility and moral obligation be resolved by an integration of religious institutions with political authority, or might such a combination produce results disastrous both to the soul of the leader and to the body politic?

More fundamentally to this debate, is it possible for well-meaning individuals to hold offices of prestige and power as religious or virtuous people and do so authentically? Can a Catholic really become president and remain a good Catholic? Should he do so? How do we resolve the tension between the demands of leadership within civic society, and the demands of religion and morality within private life?