Bishops' wrong conclusion on sectarianism

MORAL authority is a slippery thing. According to the Scottish Catholic bishops, neither Scottish Executive nor the UK government can claim it, at least with regard to sectarianism, since sectarianism is enshrined in the Act of Settlement, the Act, you will remember, that prevents Catholics marrying into the Royal Family without the royal person being obliged to forfeit his place in the pecking order for the throne.

The Scottish Catholic bishops have a point, but it is not the point they wish to make. The point they have is that the Act of Settlement does not fit well into our all-inclusive society. But as for it undermining the Scottish Executive’s fight against sectarianism, this must be nonsense. First, the Scottish Executive has no authority to repeal an Act of the UK parliament; and second, if only those without taint of sin have the moral authority to attempt a clean-up of our morally murky world, we would never get started at all.

The Scottish Executive may be ineffective in its fight against sectarianism, but this is not because of the Act of Settlement, it is because sectarianism does not respond to either reason or legislation, and the Scottish Parliament has no other weapons at its disposal.

Before questioning the moral authority of others, the bishops might have been wise to look in the mirror. Some people might argue that the Catholic Church’s own claims regarding moral high ground are hardly unassailable. However, I would not agree. The church may have been founded by God, but it is run by human beings, who are, by their very natures, imperfect. Bad individuals, or even bad papal decisions, do not negate its moral authority.

But by the same token, I would also argue that the church should not cast aspersions on politicians who, whatever the history of the institutions they are part of, are genuinely attempting to make a poor situation better.

INCIDENTALLY, if, as the Pope recently claimed, Scotland is no longer a Christian country, what its bishops say must be of little interest in any event.

But was the Pope right? As one who lives here, rather than one who relies on parish statistics and the testimony of others to judge, Scotland seems to me to have Christianity so deeply embedded into its bones that, whether people go to church or not, we still live in a recognisably Christian culture. The last verse of Arthur Hugh Clough’s poem There is no God rings as true now as it did when it was written in the early 19th century. Who encouraged the Pope to believe otherwise? I think we should be told.

MY 11-YEAR-OLD son is always "turning the war on". He sits, then comes through to tell me what is happening. I show him newspaper websites that offer detailed maps, with red dots or arrows showing who’s where doing what. I worried, to begin with, that this mouse-click view of the war would turn it into a game. Not so. Being able to see the difference between the clean, clinical graphics and the confusing television images has taught him just how different theory is to practice. When he turns the live coverage off, he does so apologetically, as if it was rude.

As we watched the "shock and awe" together, I wondered aloud what Tony Blair’s children were making of it all. "I’m glad I’m not them," my son declared in heartfelt tones. "The war?" I asked. "No," he said. "Imagine having Cherie for a mother."

A GREAT friend, Bridget Tempest, flew on Tuesday to Turkmenistan, the Central Asian republic ruled by an old Soviet despot, Saparmurat Niazov Turkmenbashi, as he styles himself. An artist, she has gone to teach at the art academy in Ashgabad and has done much, through a great exhibition at Wimpole House, to publicise the work of contemporary Turkmen artists. The day before she left, a letter arrived from Turkmenbashi himself, praising her work and her desire to help his gifted people get some international exposure.

This puts Bridget in an awkward position. Last November, after an alleged assassination attempt, treason legislation was brought into effect in Turkmenistan, legislation of which Joe Stalin would have been proud. Snooping is mandatory and life imprisonment handed out after apparently drugged confessions.

The rule of Turkmenbashi has its comical side - he is a self-declared Prophet and has postponed old age until 85 (live expectancy in Turkmenistan is 60) - but the president is slowly cutting his people off from the outside world. Their wellbeing depends on his largesse, which is, to say the least, erratic.

How far can those who wish to help the Turkmen go along with his regime before they are compromised? Should we shun the place in a useless protest, or should we go and just hope that we do more good than harm?