Faith, Collectivism and the Folly of Utopia

"I [...] believe that the duel between Christianity and atheism is the most important in the world. I further believe that the struggle between individualism and collectivism is the same struggle reproduced on another level" (God and Man at Yale, lx-lxi). William F. Buckley, a Catholic, wrote this in 1951 with the benefit of some historical perspective; Stalinist Russia had by then already proven itself to be a tyranny among tyrannies. Still, the full horrors of communist regimes in China and Southeast Asia were yet to come. The suppression of religious faith, most notably Christianity and Buddhism, was of course a central tenet of these regimes. With this in mind, it seems both ironic and curious that Erasmus addressed his The Praise of Folly in 1510 directly to Thomas More, a man responsible for putting forth, just a few years later, what can be construed as an argument for perhaps the pinnacle of human follies-the ideal of a perfect communal society.

More of course wrote Utopia without the experience of witnessing the abject failure of a society without private ownership as Buckley did, and it is unfair and unfruitful to judge him, as a subject of English monarchy in the early 1500s, in the terms of a contemporary democracy or characterize him as simply a proponent of a barren, inhumane communism. Indeed, our modern notions of the political/economic systems we call socialism and communism had not yet arisen. There is also much in More's Catholic faith that lends itself to cooperative living and concern for the poor and downtrodden elements of society. His vision in Utopia is an elevated one in which "recognition of individual merit is combined with equal prosperity for all" (More 44). Still, such a benevolent sentiment was the original impetus behind the most totalitarian collectivist systems, and there is also something in More's state-centered Utopia and unrelenting loyalty to the Catholic Church that suggest a predilection for absolutist systems, governmental or otherwise.

As Christian humanists, Erasmus and More had the welfare and dignity of the individual in their foremost thoughts. Both were troubled by the failure of the Church, due to the corrupting influence of wealth and political power on its officials, to serve the common folk and set for them proper example. Erasmus deplores in Folly the greed and ostentation of the Church in imitation of the "courtly manner of life" and implores the clergy to consider the humbling and sobering meanings behind their often elaborate trappings (Erasmus 68). Likewise, More's Utopian priests wear "multi-coloured vestments [...] of quite cheap materials" in keeping with Utopian renunciation of precious stones and metals (More 108). Yet, this apparent recognition of its corruption does not translate for More into an admission that the Church might be fallible in theological terms to any significant degree; hence his willingness to virulently defend it against Protestantism in ways that Erasmus was not.

However, the primary distinction that can be made between the thought of Erasmus and More, as expressed in these two works, lies not in how they view the Protestant threat to the integrity of the Church (indeed it's only alluded to) but in how they conceptualize the role of Christianity in relation to the goal of social betterment or perfection. More's Utopians, the vast majority of them, already believe in something not entirely out of step with basic Christian doctrine-"there's nothing to be seen or heard in their churches which can't equally well be applied to all religions" (More 106-7). Yet the religious tolerance of the Utopians seems a device for easing their impending conversion as much as anything else-"you've no idea how easy it was to convert them too," Raphael gushes (More 99). The perfection of the Utopians extends then to their willingness to accept the teachings of the Catholic Church wholeheartedly, something that could not be said for More's fellow countryman as a whole. But it also implies that Christianity is not integral to the social order. The Utopians have, after all, arrived at a near perfect world (even more so than the Greco-Romans) without knowledge of Christ's sacrifice. More's Christian England is by contrast rife with inequity and strife. In the absence of "the one true faith" secular institutions and social structure or, more disconcertingly, paganism are by implication at the core of Utopia's success. The plurality of Utopian beliefs also seems valued primarily for their moral instructiveness and therefore constructiveness in relation to the Utopian state rather than a deep and transformative spirituality. This is a view of which Erasmus ought to have been highly critical. In Folly it is not institutions (secular or otherwise) or merely a general religiosity that will provide for a better world but "the pursuit of piety" by sincerely contrite individuals (Erasmus 83).

The difference in outlook between these two men seems to correspond with the general categories of human thought laid out by another modern Catholic, Russell Kirk. Kirk would doubtlessly have considered Erasmus' call to renewed Christian vigor an example of the "moral imagination," a phrase first used by Edmund Burke. Based in religious conviction, it is the moral imagination "which informs us concerning the dignity of human nature" and allows us to "The Essential Russell Kirk, 207-8). Or as Erasmus puts it, our only chance is the recognition of our own flawed, sinful nature and "subordinat[ion] [of ourselves] to those things that cannot be seen" (Erasmus 84). At the core of the "moral imagination" is an understanding then of man's fallenness and therefore imperfectability on both the individual and social levels (Kirk 431). By contrast, something very close to the "idyllic imagination" forms the basis of More's Utopia. In the pursuit of social perfection, the individual is made subservient to the state and religion is reduced to something of utilitarian value (perhaps presaging its eventual abolition as under communism). This reduction of religion's worth and the primacy put upon equality or classlessness "ordinarily terminates in disillusion and boredom" and likely will eventually give way to the decadence and decay of the "diabolic imagination" as typified by the Marquis de Sade for Kirk (Kirk 208). As he most succinctly and dismissively tells us in regard to all such social engineering schemes, "to seek for utopia is to end in disaster" (Kirk 9).