Much has been written about efforts, whether successful or abortive, made in the transition to democracy in Asian states. Scholars have examined many factors believed to predispose a society toward democracy, including the influence of market economies, the structure of educational systems, the growth of a middle class, and the relationship between capital and labor. Oddly, the role of religion has received little attention. The contributors to this volume aim to rectify this. Ten chapters are devoted, respectively, to the role of religion in eight countries and Hong Kong; Taiwan, the smallest nation examined, rates two chapters, one on Buddhism and another on the Presbyterian Church.
The authors do not define democracy or make distinctions within it as to, for example, direct or representational democracy, though it can be inferred that they intend the term broadly to include protection of civil liberties, political pluralism, the ability of contending factions to alternate in office in accordance with the popular will, and the rule of law.
They find that religious doctrines do not predetermine the involvement of a religious organization in the politics of democratization. Doctrines may constrain or inspire, but they neither preclude nor determine. Most religious organizations do not speak with one voice, and it is difficult to imagine a rigidly monolithic religious organization that would be comfortable with the cacophony of different voices that typically characterize a democratic society.
Historically, a more typical relationship between religion and government was that they were mutually reinforcing. The religious authority legitimized the secular ruler, who in turn granted it special privileges and called upon it for support in time of need. In countries as disparate as ancient Egypt and Japan, the secular authority was believed to be the embodiment of the state’s founding deity--in the former, the representative of the sun god Ra, and in the latter, a descendant of Amaterasu, the sun goddess.
Cleavages between church and state did occur in pre-Reformation Europe--indeed, the current controversy between the government of the People’s Republic of China (PRC) and the Vatican about who should have the authority over the appointment of bishops has a remarkable parallel in the confrontation between a 11th-century monarch and a pope at Canossa over exactly the same issue.
Beijing’s concern with control over religion is also a theme in contributor Julia Ching’s chapter on the brutal suppression of Falungong. Coeditor Deborah Brown details its more nuanced treatment of Catholicism in quasi-autonomous Hong Kong, where it manipulates the composition of the boards of church schools and makes subtle use of its ability to raise rents on facilities used by the church. If it is accepted that the government is pre-eminent in the secular sphere while the religious authorities are supreme arbiters of the moral sphere, what should be the role of religion when the governmental authorities seem to be acting immorally? This age-old question has been answered in dramatically different ways that are shaped by the individual consciences of those directly involved, by their cultures and by the spirit of the times.
David Ambuel’s chapter on democratization in overwhelmingly Buddhist Thailand asserts that the evolution of democracy there was abetted by a change in the understanding of social relations conditioned by religious beliefs.
One factor that induced political passivity was the perceived separation between seeking spiritual fulfillment and pursuing worldly gains. Another was the fundamentally individualistic orientation of Hinayana Buddhism. Although Buddhist dharma does not enjoin people to ignore duties to society, the ultimate goal is the attainment of enlightenment. Hence the remedies for a lack of social justice are also individual; each person must reform his or her attitudes with the expectation that a society of virtuous individuals will be a virtuous society and there is little concern for how institutional structures and organization may impact this transformation.
Whereas what Ambuel terms “old karma” implicitly accepted personal authority and the established hierarchy, there has been a shift to “new karma” in which there are calls for good people to seek positions of authority and demands for mechanisms to be established that keep bad people from serving. Although this new karma of a Buddhist democracy falls short of the Western idea of the rule of law, it has put a distinct imprint on the political culture of the nation.
André Laliberté’s analysis of the role of Mahayana Buddhism in Taiwan finds a similar passivity, but one that, unlike Thailand’s, did not evolve into a more activist role. He characterizes the behavior of Buddhist organizations over the past two decades as indifferent to politics in general, and to the process of democratization specifically. In 1982, when calls for the lifting of martial law and a ban against the formation of new political parties began to be heard, the Buddhist Association of the Republic of China criticized both. No major Buddhist organization opposed the government’s authoritarian rule, nor did it object to the government’s repressive tactics against those who argued for democratization.
Laliberté finds two instances by Hsing Yun, founder of the Fo Guang Shan monastic order, that suggest his organization was about to join in the democratization process—supporting the 1996 presidential candidacy of devout Buddhist Chen Li-an and participation in a grass-roots campaign that led to the downfall of the Lien Chan Cabinet in 1997. Nonetheless, he points out, Fo Guang Shan’s subsequent behavior showed that Hsing Yun did not intend to oppose the authoritarian regime but simply to express reservations about liberalizing trends that he and his followers deemed to be excessive. Hsing Yun not only did not oppose the Kuomintang (KMT), but also accepted an appointment as a commissioner at the Overseas Chinese Affairs Commission.
Laliberté concludes that the unwillingness of Taiwan’s Buddhist organizations to become engaged in the nation’s politics can be explained by their leaders’ desires to concentrate on organizational interests and theological ideals more than cultural, political and socioeconomic factors. They espouse a conservative theology that neither opposes the socioeconomic status quo nor supports the government’s neoliberal economic policies. The laity in turn defer to their clergy. Collectively, they prefer that the alleviation of poverty be dealt with by charitable foundations, several of which Buddhists support generously, rather than by public agencies that they have less faith in.
A Taoist devotee intones scriptures at Taipei’s Hsing Tien Temple. (Photo by Chang Su-ching)
Buddhists tend to be uncomfortable with the development of a welfare state in Taiwan, partly because Buddhist organizations stand to lose their effectiveness as charitable organizations should such a welfare state come to pass. Moreover, as religious institutions with a universal message, Buddhist groups hope to reach an audience beyond Taiwan. With regard to cross-strait relations, it may be advantageous for these organizations to avoid being seen as too closely associated with the island’s political parties, whether the KMT or the Democratic Progressive Party.
Murray Rubinstein’s chapter on the role of the Presbyterian Church in Taiwan’s democratization presents a sharp contrast with the general passivism of the island’s Buddhist organizations. Presbyterian missionaries arrived in Taiwan in the 1860s and 1870s, when contacts with Manchu-ruled China were few, and established not only churches but school systems, hospitals, presses and seminaries. The missionaries and their associates made great efforts to speak, teach, write and pray in local languages, and developed romanization systems for Holo, Hakka and several Taiwan aboriginal tongues. This was accomplished even as church members simultaneously served as agents of not only a particular Western religion but of Westernization in general. After Taiwan became part of the Japanese empire in 1895, the church was allowed to continue its medical and educational activities.
Japan relinquished control over Taiwan in 1945 and was immediately replaced by the KMT government of Chiang Kai-shek. It instituted aggressive sinification policies that included forcing all of the island’s groups to speak Mandarin and suppressing local artistic and cultural traditions that they looked down upon. This amounted to a denial of the nativization policies propounded by the church.
The new policies were accompanied by a significant degree of corruption, further raising tensions that culminated in the infamous February 28 Incident and subsequent massacre of the native Taiwanese resistance. Taiwan’s Presbyterians regard the events of February 28 as a defining period in their history. Speaking out for the victims and their families, Presbyterian leaders and their followers suffered, but were determined to champion the case of the oppressed.
The years after the massacre were quiet, and church members were happy to welcome converts from China. Nonetheless, the KMT’s linguistic imperialism caused friction with Presbyterians’ attempts to continue to use Taiwanese and other local languages in their schools and church materials. The KMT’s decision to open the island to Western missionary groups in general also reinforced the Presbyterian role as defenders of indigenous cultures. Representatives of newly arrived denominations, many of whom had been forcibly ejected from China, tended to view the KMT government as a paragon of toleration and strongly supported Chiang’s regime. Hence, the Presbyterians retained their position in support of the suppressed majority and its interests.
In 1971, after the KMT government’s efforts to portray itself as legitimate ruler of the one true China suffered international setbacks, its domestic critics were emboldened. The Presbyterian Church was among them, openly demanding the right to self-determination. In 1974 and 1975, after the church introduced a new Taiwanese romanization of the Bible on the island, the government confiscated over 2,000 copies.
In 1977, after the church called upon the KMT to declare Taiwan a new and independent nation, the government confiscated copies of a newsletter containing the text of the call and exerted pressure against the re-election of the church’s leader. Its actions backfired, ultimately strengthening his position. The same pastor was involved in the Kaohsiung Incident of 1979, and was imprisoned for four years.
By the mid-1980s, Chiang Kai-shek’s son and heir, Chiang Ching-kuo, began the process of democratization, which included choosing Lee Teng-hui, a native Taiwanese and member of the Presbyterian church, as his vice president. After assuming the presidency following the younger Chiang’s death, Lee implemented the nativization policies that had been favored by the church, and the threat of confiscation of its materials ended.
With the battles for selfhood and demands for representation of the majority largely won, the church became more politically passive, shifting its focus to work among other disadvantaged groups. These included the aborigines, fishing folk whose boats were detained by foreign countries that had no diplomatic relations with Taiwan, those afflicted with AIDS and earthquake victims. The Presbyterian Church remains an important social force in Taiwan, despite its withdrawal from the political arena.
In South Korea, both Catholic and Protestant churches moved from prudent passivity toward the authorities prior to the mid-1960s to positions in the forefront of the democratization movement thereafter. Author Hyug Baeg Im finds that several factors impelled the change. South Korea’s rapid industrialization had impoverished the country’s rural dwellers, drawing many into urban areas that lacked the capacity to comfortably accommodate them.
A galvanizing event occurred in late 1970, when a garment worker burned himself to death in protest against unbearable living conditions. From that point onward, churches focused their attention on social justice and the resolution of labor problems. Their leaderships were also responding to the message of Pope John XXIII’s Second Vatican Council, calling on the church to address world problems, and liberation theology, which called for intervention on behalf of the needy and oppressed. Another factor contributing to involvement in democratization was more practical: each church sought to maximize the number of its converts.
As calls for social change increased, President Park Chung Hee’s authoritarian government moved to silence them. While these repressive measures applied to all dissidents, including opposition politicians, journalists, workers and students, the government could not control churches as effectively as it could other groups.
In 1976, on the 57th anniversary of the movement for independence against Japan, a seminal event took place--an unprecedented joint Catholic-Protestant prayer service was held in Seoul’s central cathedral that culminated in a demand for Park’s resignation. Twenty clergymen were arrested, giving additional publicity to this daring act of defiance. Church leaders began to provide shelter to opposition forces and appealed to both the domestic public and the international community to demand democratic reform. As in the case of Presbyterianism in Taiwan, the church retreated from political involvement once its goals were achieved.
The conventional view of the role of the Filipino Catholic church in democratization is that it went from critical collaboration with the Ferdinand Marcos regime to opposition in the form of participation in the 1986 People Power Revolution to playing a part in the building of a civil society. Author Coeli Barry finds this to be Manila-centric, and to mistakenly imply that when priests and nuns supported demonstrations against Marcos, it indicated that they supported the church hierarchy in Manila.
Finally, although the opposition to Marcos included other religious and political groups, it was to the conservative reformist group that new president Corazon Aquino turned. She privileged certain church figures, particularly Cardinal Jaime Sin, and they in turn lent legitimacy to her government.
This did not necessarily better the lot of the poor. Though Barry does not emphasize the point, the church’s support of a 1987 pro-life amendment to the constitution ensured that there would be a great deal more poverty. And, as Barry does note, it turned its back on a historic opportunity to back real land reform, choosing instead to endorse a watered-down version that was destined to change little. The church does not question class divisions or the nature of the vast inequalities that exist. Democracy is advocated in principle but deferred in practice. When the poor finally seek an end to this deferment, Barry observes, the Philippine Catholic Church may not be the masters of these forces.
Both Greg Barton’s and Patricia Martinez’s chapters on the role of Islam in the democratic transition in Indonesia and Malaysia give credit to the role of progressive Muslim thinkers. Each, however, is concerned that creeping Islamization may erode such civil liberties as have been achieved. As Martinez observes, strict adherence to Islam is seen as an antidote to the corruption, cronyism and nepotism that plague public life. It also provides an alternative to the bewildering maze of modernity and the disruptions caused by globalization that is perceived as Western-directed. Hence the arguments of religious figures appeal--only after the legislation and severe punishments that an Islamic state enjoins are enacted, will good government and justice prevail.
Individual chapters are strong, though it is a pity that they do not talk to each other more. It would have been interesting, for example, to address the issue of why the messages of the Second Vatican Council and liberation theology were so influential in South Korea, with its 25 percent Christian population, and so absent in the Philippines, where Catholics are 97 percent of the total. Perhaps wisely, the editors allow each chapter to speak for itself and do not try to produce an overarching theory of how religion affects democratization in Asia as a whole.
This reader is tempted to conclude that there is no common factor--contributing causes include the degree to which the leadership of a particular country supports a religious group’s institutional interests, whether the particular religion focuses on earthly harmony or preparation for the afterlife, competition from other religions within the country and ties with religious groups and movements in other countries. These combine in idiosyncratic ways. In the end, the connection between religion and democracy remains murky.
June Teufel Dreyer is professor of political science at the University of Miami and author of China’s Political System: Tradition and Modernization.
Copyright © 2006 by June Teufel Dreyer.