Between theocracy and democracy

In contemporary terms, a theocracy is a nation ruled by patriarchal religious leaders who interpret and enforce a sacred text, and a nominal parliament with clerical oversight. There is restricted freedom of association, free speech, free media, rule of secular law, or political parties with policies that might contest clerical rule. That list would define the Vatican, but it describes itself as a constitutional monarchy with the Pope as head of state. Australia is also a constitutional monarchy with the King, the Supreme Governor of the Church of England, in England, as head of state. That is a clue to religion’s role in Australian government right there. Our religious King is also head of state of the Australian states, and New Zealand. That is where the comparison ends?

The hope for secularism

Last year, when the newly appointed President of the Senate, Sue Lines, publicly expressed her support for removing the daily recital of Christian prayers from the Senate’s procedures and her job description, her Labor colleagues swiftly pulled her back into line.

Now, whenever the Senate opens for the day, we can all watch on – see the livestream here on the Australian Parliament House website – as an atheist is forced to recite two Christian prayers, including the Lord’s Prayer, for the Senators and staff in attendance before everyone can get on with their jobs. Senator Lines is clearly uncomfortable reading prayers aloud. There is little enthusiasm in her voice as she calls on “Almighty God” and pledges that the Senate will “humbly beseech Thee to vouchsafe Thy special blessing”, and work as “Thy servants to the advancement of Thy glory”. 

Many years ago, as an undergraduate student of philosophy, I was invited to participate in a special seminar for honours students convened by the then chairman of the philosophy department at the University of Melbourne. The topic of the semester-long seminar was American empiricist philosopher Willard Van Orman Quine’s classic Word and Object. In the opening session, the professor invited us, before diving into Quine, to raise any questions of a general philosophical nature to which we sought answers. Several such questions were asked, such as: What is the meaning of the distinction between analytic and synthetic propositions in Kant? I had a more general question. I asked: “Can we spend a little time getting some perspective on the history of philosophy? I mean, what is it, exactly, that philosophers have been trying to achieve? And can we agree about whether there has been any progress since Plato?”