“Protest for all”: Social conservatives in France vs. Germany

“Protest for all”: Social conservatives in France vs. Germany July 26, 2017

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Though Christianity is said to be on the decline in Europe, social conservatives are often staging huge protests over issues such as gay marriage and abortion.

The rallies–that go by the name “Protest for All”–are biggest in France, despite the liberal bent of its culture. Germany also has its rallies with the same name, but they are smaller and the social conservatives are far less vocal, even though Germany is much more conservative culturally.

Why is this?  An article in the British publication The Economist speculates that in France with its official secularism, holding to any religion has become “an edgy protest against the established order.”  Whereas in Germany, with its established church, religious people are less likely to rock the boat, lest they lose their privileged position.

What applications do you see for social conservatives in the United States of America, where we have both separation between church and state (as in France) as well as social respectability for religion (as in Germany)?

From Erasmus, Conservatives speak louder in secular France than in pious Germany, The Economist:

True to the movement’s name—Manif pour Tous (Protest for All)—the French gatherings brought together a broad coalition. Some came from the political right and far-right: there were well-heeled Catholics from posh parts of Paris, poorer ones from the provinces and some Muslims. Some supporters even spoke the language of the anti-capitalist left, arguing that gay adoptions and surrogacy might lead to a heartless market in embryos. To some extent, the movement simply capitalised on the general unpopularity of François Hollande, then the Socialist president.

Germany, too, has seen street demonstrations in imitation of the French ones, under an identical banner, Demo für Alle. As in France, the rallies have received discreet encouragement from politicians and clerics. But the German assemblies (focused in particular on moves to liberalise education about sex and gender) have been smaller, and they have drawn counter-demonstrations. It is still possible that same-sex marriage will be contested in Germany, on grounds that it violates the constitution. But the argument will be conducted in the courts, not on the streets.

This Franco-German contrast seems paradoxical. Although each country comprises a wide spectrum of opinion, German social norms are in some ways more conservative than French ones. (Take the issue of abortion. Although both countries have quite liberal regimes for terminating a pregnancy up to 12 weeks, the German one lays down that women must have counselling—in which they are told that fetuses have rights—before undergoing the procedure. That would be hard to imagine in France.)

Some reasons for the French-German difference are clear enough. Any popular street movement that shades into the far-right feels toxic in Germany, more so than in France, for the obvious historical reasons.

But perhaps a deeper, albeit unproveable, reason has to do with the formal status of religion in the two countries. In France, ever since the Revolution, and especially since the regime of laicité or strict secularism began in 1905, being a practising Catholic (or, you might argue, practising any religion seriously) has felt counter-cultural: an edgy act of protest against the existing order. The language of victimhood and grievance (even among wearers of blue blazers or silk scarves) does not feel strange.

In Germany, by comparison, the main Christian chuches (Lutheran and Catholic) have a privileged position. Although their membership is dwindling, as recently released figures confirm, they still haul in taxes from tens of millions of citizens under a system overseen by the state. Within most German federal states, the churches have an entrenched position as advisers on education and, sometimes, broadcasting.

As with formally established churches in some other European countries, such as England and Denmark, Germany’s clerics probably have an instinct which tells them not to exercise their privileges too stridently. Too much assertiveness would be expecially imprudent at a time when the Catholic church, in particular, is reeling from scandal. . . .

In a way, the difference between France and Germany on this score epitomises the dilemma facing Christian leaders across Europe. Is it better to enjoy historically inherited privileges, and practise political self-restraint for fear of exasperating an already rather sceptical public? Or is it more advantageous to be stripped of almost every privilege, as has happened in France, and be freer to speak one’s mind?

[Keep reading. . .]

 

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