CONFLICT AND COMPETITION: The Latin American Church in a Changing Environment
edited by Edward L. Cleary / Hannah Stewart-GambinoCHAPTER 1 =================================
Introduction: New Game, New Rules
=========================== HANNAH STEWART-GAMBINOThe Catholic church in Latin America appears to be at a crossroads. After over two decades of dramatic theological and pastoral change, liberation theology, a theology born of the Latin American experience and grounded in the perspective of the poor, not only has survived attacks from opponents in and out of the church but also has influenced theological discourse among First World, minority, and feminist theologians. In many Latin American dioceses, the institutional church has flourished as a result of bishops' adoption of a preferential option for the poor. At the national level, the church in As role as "voice of the voiceless" has led hierarchies throughout the region to champion human rights and the struggles against oppressive regimes. Thus, on one hand, the terms of theological debate as well as the institutional pattern of the Latin American church appear to have been permanently, if not uniformly, altered. But more recently, observers have noted that the Latin American church faces new challenges that may limit its ability to continue to play such a prominent and progressive role. To different observers, the church appears to be embarking on a period of consolidation, maturation, reconciliation, or even retreat.
How the Latin American Catholic church will respond in the decades ahead to the challenges both within and outside the church is the subject of this book. The following chapters deal with the church in individual countries. The purpose of this chapter, however, is to introduce the reader to the general themes and challenges shaping the national contexts to which Latin American hierarchies must adapt in the coming years. The first section examines changing international conditions, specifically the pressure exerted by the Vatican on Latin American churches to rein in particularly their more progressive elements. A brief description of some of the early encounters between Pope John Paul 11 and Latin American progressives serves as a springboard for a more general discussion of various cleavages within the church today. The second section discusses the impact of the political trend toward (re)democratization on churches that had found their prophetic voices during the harsh years of military repression and widespread misery of the 1960s through the 1980s. The third challenge to which Catholic churches throughout the region must respond is the explosion of Protestant and Pentecostal growth. The nature of this challenge and the varying ways in which it is interpreted within the Catholic church are reviewed in the final section.
Before discussion of these issues proceeds, it is important to place this book within the context of existing work on the church and politics in Latin America. Since the 1960s and Ivan Vallier's recognition that the Catholic church can play a central role in the process of modernization in Latin America,(1) the Catholic church as a political actor as well as a religious institution has become the focus of a steady stream of studies. Not surprisingly, the result of the proliferation of works on the church in Latin America has been a sharpening of debates concerning how observers should study the church. Scholarship has come a long way from its past formal-legal approach that suggested that church activity, either pastoral or social, could be directly deduced from encyclicals, pastoral letters, or pronouncements from national bishops' conferences. Collections of country studies such as those edited by Daniel Levine, Scott Mainwaring and Alexander Wilde, and Thomas Bruneau and his colleagues dispel the notion that a monolithic "Latin American Catholic church" does or ever did exist.(2) Rather, within the international church through which the orientations and priorities of Catholic social doctrine historically have been interpreted, national hierarchies always have made decisions regarding the application of social doctrine according to bishops' understandings of their own peculiar national contexts. These contexts include realities as diverse as the type of political system in a country; the nature of the social, economic, or political ills facing an individual country; and the availability of church resources, either tangible or symbolic. This book continues in the vein of works that deal with national churches as stages on which the ecclesiastical and theological concerns and priorities of the international Catholic church intersect with local hierarchies' struggles to make Christianity and the church meaningful in the concrete reality of believers' lives.(3)
Most of the contributions in this book adopt an institutional approach to the study of the church.(4) Most authors focus on bishops and their decision-making process to explain not only what "a church" perceives to be its challenges but also the interplay between the church as a religious institution with "nonrational" ends (i.e., faith and mission) and the church as a rational actor with institutional interests that it must preserve in order to pursue its religious ends.(5) This approach does not necessarily rule out competing definitions of the church. The church embodies both its institutional structures, which include patterns of authority and tradition, as well as the living, breathing community of faithful that make up the body of the church. Each of the following chapters provides a framework, within the context of a national hierarchy, for understanding the evolving relationship between the church as institution and the church as community of faithful. As several authors show, relations between groups that adhere to differing conceptions of the church can be quite strained under certain historical conditions, but the focus of this book is not a "battle for t he church" waged by opposing sides.(6) Rather, the tensions described are framed within the historical continuity of the church's adaptation of its institutional integrity to changing temporal conditions.
The central theme presented here is that the ground beneath the Catholic church in Latin America appears to be shifting -- calling into question the existing constellation of issues, debates, and influence within national hierarchies. Since the widespread acceptance of the notion that churches occupy an important "space" within national sociopolitical contexts that will not simply wither away with the advances of modernization, we have accumulated an impressive array of knowledge concerning the relationship between church and society in Latin America. We know a great deal more today about the church's vital role in (re)democratization, the championing of human rights, and the preservation (or at times creation) of a wide range of social organizations that have influenced the achievement of varying social goals such as social justice, economic equality, and the enjoyment of political rights. Unquestionably, the Latin American church is a stronger, more vibrant, and more progressive force for social change than it has ever before been in its history. Indeed, the progressive church has been the focus of the overwhelming majority of the social science literature on the Latin American church.(7) But the relationship between the church and its surroundings is neither unidimensional nor unidirectional; churches both influence and are influenced by their surroundings. Each of the contributing authors, although largely sanguine about churches' ability and willingness to build on the advances of the previous decades, examines the changing conditions that will place new constraints, new limits, and new challenges in the path of the Latin American church in its struggle to maintain its prophetic voice on the behalf of the poor. It is to these changing conditions that we next turn,
Changes Within the International Church One of the most formidable constraints on the church's ability to strengthen its presence in the daily lives of many Catholic faithful in the future is John Paul II's intention to restore the authority pattern and traditional moral doctrines of the pre-Vatican II (1962-1965) era. Although not widely recognized at the time of the Second Vatican Council,
Archbishop of Krakow Karol Wojtyla (who took the name John Paul II when he ascended to the papacy) opposed the definition of the church as a "people of God." He argued then for a traditionally hierarchical definition of an institution "in which laity worked under the direction of priests and bishops to achieve the 'truth' of a life lived in faith," and his policy has been consistent with this view since he became pope.(8) Penny Lernoux attributes John Paul's tremendous popularity to his energy and charisma, but argues that he is a "populistic intergralist." She states, "John Paul, who thinks in terms of peoples -- not nation states -- is deeply supportive of the populism that enables a people to express political, economic, or social aspirations through religious gestures and symbols." However, she warns that "John Paul's Catholicism has a clear set of rules and it is the responsibility of priests to make sure they are obeyed.... The civilization he envisions is essentially integralist-a throwback to a Christendom when the church was both the mediating force in secular society and the only source of spiritual salvation."(9)
Perhaps the best evidence of John Paul's "counterreformation" agenda can be found in the tension between the Vatican and the more progressive sectors of Latin American hierarchies. Since John Paul's opening of the Latin American Bishops' Conference (CELAM) at Puebla, Mexico, in 1979, his two primary preoccupations with developments in the Latin American church have been increasingly clear: defense of theological orthodoxy against the taint of Marxism, and maintenance of traditional institutional authority patterns. John Paul's visit to Nicaragua in 1983 provided the stage for the pope's first highly publicized confrontation over these issues.
By the 1970s the Nicaraguan hierarchy had begun to distance itself from the Anastasio Somoza regime, which was notorious in the region for its repression and corruption. Although preferring to find a negotiated solution to the escalating civil war, the Nicaraguan bishops were pushed by Somoza's intransigence into finally endorsing the revolution as the last resort in the legitimate effort to topple the regime. Perhaps even more important was the participation of grassroots Catholic groups in the revolution that culminated in Somoza's overthrow in 1979. The consolidation of the new regime under Sandinista leadership, however, quickly ended the era of cooperation between the Nicaraguan bishops and the revolutionary forces, as the national bishops' conference under the leadership of Archbishop Miguel Obando y Bravo moved increasingly into opposition to the ruling junta. On the other hand, the grassroots cooperation between Sandinistas and Catholic progressives continued after the revolution, a bond symbolized by the inclusion of four priests in the new Sandinista government. The history of the worsening relationship between the Nicaraguan bishops and the Sandinista government has been described at length elsewhere, (10) but for our purposes it is important to note that the tension served to split the Nicaraguan church.
The divisions within the Nicaraguan church and John Paul's response to them in the early 1980s helped clarify the divisions within the Latin American church as a whole. These divisions can be roughly characterized as "vertical" (dividing hierarchies at every level) and "horizontal" (dividing lower echelons of the hierarchy, plus the laity, from those with higher positions of institutional authority).(11) The vertical cleavage is viewed as dividing radicals, progressives, and conservatives over the practical (and often political) implications of a preferential option for the poor. The horizontal cleavage, dividing progressives from traditionalists, results from the ongoing debate about the distribution of authority that stems from the basic disagreement over the definition of the church as either a people of God or a hierarchical institution.
Some early proponents of liberation theology seized upon the revolutionary potential of the church's preferential option for the poor and argued that the church cannot remain neutral in the historical struggles for liberation from manmade structures of oppression.(12) For "radicals," a preferential option for the poor must be understood in light of the Marxist notion that class conflict is the motor of history; thus, accommodationist or reformist political strategies that fail to bring fundamental change to existing power arrangements accomplish little more than to preserve the status quo. Christians not only may but must join with other forces, including Marxists, to fight for real political and economic transformation. As Mainwaring and Wilde point out, the radical position never crystallized into a broad or well-defined movement in the Latin American church, although brief organizational expressions of these ideas could be found especially in the late 1960s and early 1970s.(13)
Church progressives likewise condemn existing power arrangements; however, they stress reallocation of church resources to reach out to the poor or oppressed through the extension of grassroots organizations, the creation of base Christian communities (CEBs), and the initiation of parish-level study, self-help, and educational groups rather than an explicit focus on partisan activity. Nevertheless, progressives accept that these groups, which are first and foremost religious in nature, can result in a politicization among their participants that can lead to political, even partisan, activism.
Conservatives find the radicals' blurring of the line separating the church's religious mission and political agendas especially antithetical to the universal church's mandate to minister to the entire human family. Moreover, they argue that identification with particular political movements or positions ties the institutional authority of the church to the rise and fall of partisan fortunes. Conservatives also tend to find problematic the progressives' distinction between facilitating popular organizations and partisan activity.(14) "Conservative" in this sense does not necessarily imply sympathy for the reactionary forces in Latin America, though the political effect of such a position can be the appearance of tacit support for the status quo that in most cases has been dominated by right-wing or military forces. However, "conservative" can also imply a conscious rightwing political preference, which appears to be the case for some Latin American bishops.
The tensions between the grassroots church and bishops-tensions that define the horizontal cleavage but overlap to a large degree the vertical church cleavage-stem less from competing visions of society and the church's role in it and more from debate concerning the appropriate institutional strategy for implementing the church's commitment to the poor or dispossessed. Progressives, already committed to a more activist vision of the church's preferential option for the poor, find authority and legitimation for their community involvement in their reading of the gospel and the shared experiences of committed Christians in popular organizations. Traditionalists regard authority and the determination of the moral and social guidelines for the church as flowing primarily from the top down from the Vatican through the international church. It is possible, then, to be a church traditionalist without espousing conservative political views, although these positions often accompany one another.
Philip Williams, in his chapter on the Nicaraguan church, shows that in spite of the wide variation within the progressive sector of the church, conservative Nicaraguan bishops since the early 1980s have accused laity and clergy who continue to work with the Sandinista regime of political "radicalism." They argue, with the support of John Paul 11, that continued Christian-Marxist cooperation reduces church activity to a merely political and fundamentally anti-Christian program. In addition to perceiving vertical cleavage, the Nicaraguan bishops argue that the CEBs that were founded on a participatory model of the church as "people of God" reject the authority of the institutional church and establish, in effect, a "parallel church" in which authority is derived from one's solidarity with the poor. The Nicaraguan bishops characterize the so-called parallel church as a direct challenge to the institutional pattern and, ultimately, to the authority of the church itself. John Paul, in agreement with the Nicaraguan bishops, repeatedly has rejected such a definition of the church, not only in Nicaragua but also in other Latin American churches where he perceives the grassroots movement as affirming alternative sources of spiritual or ecclesiastical authority.(15)
In many ways, confrontations such as the one between John Paul 11 and the pro-Sandinista crowd at an open-air mass in Managua in 1983 have exacerbated the divisions within the Latin American church as a whole. Whereas in Poland his ecclesiastical traditionalism served as a symbol of opposition to an oppressive Soviet system, these same traits in Nicaragua served to reinforce not only Latin American church traditionalists but political conservatives both in and out of the church. By reining in what he considers to be challenges or institutional threats presented by progressives, he gives the appearance of tying the church anew to its traditional allies, the military and economic/political elite. Such papal influence will not only constrain Nicaraguan progressives as the church adapts to the new right-wing government, but as the authors of this book argue, progressives in countries as diverse as Peru, Chile, Brazil, and Venezuela are finding that the terms of debate within their national hierarchies are increasingly influenced by Vatican traditionalism.
Also in the early 1980s, the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, the Vatican office charged with maintaining orthodoxy, was gearing up for a protracted assault on liberation theology and its major proponents in Latin America. John Paul 11 named Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, a Vatican hard-liner, to head the office; he pursued his work with fervor, beginning in 1983 with a list of criticisms of the work of Peruvian Gustavo Gutierrez, the recognized "father" of Latin American liberation theology. In 1984, the cardinal sent a letter to Leonardo Boff, a leading Brazilian theologian who most clearly has elucidated the Latin American church's commitment to grassroots CEBs, accusing him of serious "theological deviations," mainly infusing Christianity with Marxist symbols and meaning. In addition, he called Boff to Rome to defend his "challenge" to the institutional authority of the hierarchical church. Also in 1984, Ratzinger published a thirty-five page critique of liberation theology widely interpreted as particularly simplistic and reductionist in As condemnation of liberation theology as merely a Marxist, antiauthority ideology.
The confrontations between Vatican hard-liners and Latin American progressives are significant in two respects. On one hand, continued Vatican pressure has had a chilling effect on those Latin American progressives who want to renovate the church from within, not create a schism or break away from the institutional church. Thomas Bruneau and W. E. Hewitt in Chapter 3 and Jeffrey Klaiber in Chapter 5 explicitly examine this trend in Brazil and Peru, respectively, two of the primary stages for early conflicts between Cardinal Ratzinger and Latin American hierarchies. On the other hand, the flood of support for Gutierrez, Boff, and others under doctrinal scrutiny by the Vatican bureaucracy forced both John Paul and Cardinal Ratzinger to examine the claims and concerns of Latin American progressives with greater discernment and sophistication than they displayed originally. In fact, Ratzinger's final version of his "Instruction on Christian Freedom and Liberation," although retaining his virulent anticommunism and assertion of the traditional authority of the institutional church, did at least acknowledge the conditions of poverty and oppression in Latin America as well as tacitly recognize the religious validity of the notion of liberation. Ultimately, Opponents in and out of the church failed to discredit liberation theology fully or successfully to equate Marxism with the commitment to social justice and the opposition to poverty and oppression that engenders liberation theology. Each contributor to this book concludes that although the "new church" of the 1960s and 1970s is increasingly circumscribed, the progressive sector has not disappeared partly because of the unchanging or worsening sociopolitical and socioeconomic conditions in much of Latin America.
In addition to continuing its doctrinal pressure on Latin American hierarchies, the Vatican has exerted its influence in other ways. John Paul has made some conciliatory gestures to progressives in Latin America, but he has filled the majority of vacancies in the Latin American hierarchies with conservatives and traditionalist Vatican supporters. Moreover, a number of outspoken progressive theologians both in Latin America and elsewhere have been relieved of their teaching duties in Catholic institutions or severely reprimanded by the Vatican. Changes in the complexion of national hierarchies, in turn, affect such vital decisions as resource allocations in local churches, curriculum content in Catholic seminaries where future generations of priests are trained, and local pastoral and social priorities. In many ways, these changes will have far more lasting effects on the opportunities available to progressives in the Latin American church than the more highly publicized, but more elite-oriented confrontations between church leaders.
Challenges at the National Level In addition to the Vatican's efforts to rein in the Latin American churches' more political social commitments and to reassert traditional church authority structures, developments in Latin America also present new constraints to progressives. Whereas the wave of militarism and state-sponsored violence legitimated by the state's national security doctrine in the 1960s and 1970s helped consolidate the church's commitment to democracy and human rights in most countries, the recent trend toward (re)democratization has tended to undermine consensus and unity within the church. Democracy itself presents a challenge to the church. Historically the church, particularly in Latin America, was at best ambivalent toward democracy, often preferring an alliance with more authoritarian governments that more willing to provide a juridical basis for preserving the church's religious monopoly. Recent experiences with military dictatorships, however, clearly have strengthened Latin American bishops' commitment to democracy as the regime type that best allows for individuals to grow as human beings and as children of God. Yet democratic structures assume debate and dissent, the right for all to participate, and legitimation of authority from the bottom up. Although the international church now clearly commits itself to political democracy, the extent to which democracy extends to the church itself lies at the heart of the post-Vatican II struggle between progressives and traditionalists.
Church progressives claim the legacy of Vatican II, which they argue not only opened the church to the world but also opened the church's traditional authority pattern to greater collegiality and dialogue. The practical applications of these reforms, such as the worker-priest movement and greater autonomy of national bishops' conferences, initially resulted in a sense of tremendous optimism among progressive sectors who sought a fundamental reorientation of the church. The traditionalist challenge to Vatican II and the Latin American understanding of the council's reforms enunciated at Medellín, Colombia (1968), was mounted quickly, however, both in Rome and Latin America. Traditionalists have not scored a complete victory in rolling back Vatican II and its consequences, but most observers do agree that the progressives, who in the final analysis think of themselves as part of and loyal to the institutional church, do not want to be alienated from the church. Thus, in order to avoid schism and publicly damaging acrimony, progressives have resigned themselves to the reassertion of traditional authority patterns in the hopes of preserving a space for their work with the poor and popular sectors. (16)
(Re)democratization in Latin America not only highlights the tensions between traditionalists and progressives, but it also exacerbates conflicts between conservatives and progressives. With the reemergence of political parties, unions, and civil organizations, churches must now define their voices among a host of voices. The church can have a profound impact on the shaping of a nation's socioeconomic and political agenda, but the reverse is also true. Issues and debates within the church are shaped by the interplay between intrachurch theological and ecclesiastical concerns and national/international ideological and institutional patterns to which churches must adapt. Theoretically, the principles of tolerance and mutual respect required in democracy ought not conflict with the church's universal mission to all individuals regardless of class, gender, ethnic, or religious distinction. Yet as newly emerged democracies are consolidated, more fully articulated and competing political and economic programs will complicate the church's continued search for its prophetic voice: What will it mean to maintain a "preferential option for the poor" when countries' choices are shaped according to traditional political categories of left, center, and right? It is easier to build a consensus in Opposition to a regime having an underlying ideology that not only assaults the humanity of its citizens but also attacks any individual or institution (including the church) that questions the legitimacy of the state's authority. In a democracy in which competition is phrased in terms of the best means to achieve such goals as economic growth or justice, clergy will find it more difficult to find their prophetic voice without at least appearing to endorse one political program over another.
Historically, national hierarchies have been overtly political in their support for or even participation in friendly governments. However, part of the process of renovation and renewal before and during Vatican 11 was the growing recognition within Latin American churches that in an increasingly politicized world, particularly in competitive democracies, the church should develop its own constituency by deepening its religious influence rather than by allying with political parties or interests. By the 1960s, most Latin American churches had broken their formal ties to conservative parties or regimes and asserted their mediating role "above politics." With the reemergence of democratic politics, many within the church want to return to this position and allow parties, unions, and voluntary associations to serve their legitimate political functions.
On one hand, the desire to return to a space above politics reflects a consolidation of trust in democracy and democratic institutions. On the other hand, many progressives, whose work and suffering were sustained during the harsh years of dictatorship by a concept of Christian faith that propelled them into political opposition and activism, will find the notion that there exists a space "above politics" difficult to accept, much less that the church should retreat to this space. Progressives argue that faith orients their vision of what it means to be not only human and a Christian but also a citizen of the national and international community. One's faith cannot be divorced from one's participation in the community and, thus, must imply concern with temporal matters. To retreat from "this world" (including its political realm) would imply an abandonment of Christian faith. Likewise, a church that retreats to a position above politics abandons its faithful in their struggle to witness their faith in their daily lives. In light of the worsening socioeconomic conditions throughout Latin America, progressives argue that the need for the church's prophetic voice on behalf of the poor is as urgent as ever.
Adding to the confusion is the apparent realignment of the international left and its consequences in Latin America. Progressives typically (although not necessarily) have been sympathetic to leftist ideologies and programs. For countries where church progressives developed ties with leftist parties, the scramble to redefine party ideologies and platforms in the wake of the East European crises further limits the clarity of progressives' prophetic voice in the political sphere. This is particularly true in Chile, where the Marxist left has the longest and strongest tradition in Latin America. The reunified Socialist Party has joined the governing coalition that essentially champions the export-oriented development policy of the Augusto Pinochet regime, and the Communist Party has been decimated (at least temporarily) by internal infighting. At present, no significant political actor is articulating a coherent alternative to the neoclassical development model offered by the government coalition.
Many Chilean church progressives, with ties to a sizable number of grassroots organizations with more traditionally leftist views, no longer have a clear political ally or expression. To articulate such an alternative from within the church not only would exacerbate the tensions between progressives and conservatives/traditionalists but might also present a challenge to the stability of the newly founded democracy, a result that progressives want to avoid as it would most likely benefit the nondemocratic right.
Even in the case of Brazil, where the democratic party system does offer alternatives that are compatible with the views of the progressives, Thomas Bruneau and W. E. Hewitt argue that the progressives are increasingly isolated in the national hierarchy. In the decade before the 1964 coup, the church distanced itself from its previous neo-Christendom, elite-oriented strategy for building national influence, thus providing a foundation for the church's postcoup ability to eschew relations with military and right-wing elites. However, after adopting a preferential option for the poor and the people-centered strategy that it implies during the repressive years of military control, the national church appears to be returning to an elite-centered strategy of influence building. With the encouragement of the Vatican, progressive clergy and organizations are increasingly marginalized in the church's public statements. Bruneau and Hewitt maintain that in addition to a reassertion of a traditionalist nonpolitical or pastoral role of the church, a clear trend toward politically moderate or even conservative sympathies appears to be emerging. As in Chile, the Brazilian bishops initially were careful to confine their participation in early elections to political education, avoiding the appearance of endorsing particular candidates. However, Bruneau and Hewitt offer evidence of an increased willingness among the clergy to embrace publicly candidates and platforms that are antithetical to the progressives' understanding of the church's preferential option for the poor.
Carol Drogus's chapter on base Christian communities (CEBs) in Brazil suggests that in addition to the church's apparent retreat from its more progressive commitments, the progressive sector appears to have overestimated its ability to influence mass political (or at least electoral) behavior significantly. Drogus points out that although active participants in CEBs often undergo a dramatic personal liberation from their sense of alienation from the religious hierarchy or even the political hierarchy, this phenomenon does not necessarily translate into active political participation, nor does it necessarily lead to mass political organization or mobilization. Drogus's research, which focuses primarily on women participants (who compromise on average 90 percent of the active participants in CEBs), confirms the conclusions reached by others that both male and female participants appropriate changes in church teachings in a far more complex way than is normally assumed.(17) The realization that progressive trends within the church hierarchy are not directly or immediately replicated in general belief patterns has helped to erode the original optimism concerning the impact of the changes in the church over the past several decades. For many progressives throughout Latin America, this more sober view has resulted in a reevaluation of the importance of remaining in the institutional church and working to transform it from within, in spite of continued tensions with traditionalists and the conservative Roman curia. Drogus's chapter also makes a major contribution to our understanding specifically of women's participation in CEBs. Her typology of ways in which women approach their understandings of religious participation adds new prisms for analyzing the ways in which changes in church doctrine are refracted through the community of faithful.(18) This, in turn, contributes not just to the discussion of the Latin American church but also to an increasingly sophisticated international feminist interchange of ideas.
Brian Froehle's chapter on the Venezuelan church adds an additional dimension to the discussion of the limits of the influence of the church, both in its progressive and traditionally pastoral ambitions. Froehle argues that the Venezuelan case can serve as a model for other churches in Latin America in two senses. Unlike most other churches, the Venezuelan church has enjoyed several decades of uninterrupted democratic rule in which to find its voice amid the plenitude of other voices. Historically, the Venezuelan church also has suffered from an acute shortage of resources, both tangible (for example, financial and personnel resources) and symbolic (such as close relations with friendly regimes or a clear religious monopoly). Under such conditions, the same tensions exist between progressives and traditionalists, but Froehle argues that the church's struggle even to maintain (much less strengthen) its presence in Venezuelan society has resulted in a pragmatic coexistence between these groups. None of the intrachurch groups can begin to meet the range of religious needs of the country thus, a rough "division of labor" has emerged along with a realistic tolerance of differences.
Interestingly, the one case portrayed in this book as offering new promise to progressives is the Cuban church. John Kirk argues that the Cuban church, after years of denying the Cuban revolution, has begun to reconcile itself to the Fidel Castro regime in a way that portends well for the possibility of renewal and expansion of the church's presence in Cuban society. The author writes, however, in anticipation of John Paul II's visit to Cuba, that the reasons already mentioned may complicate the Cuban hierarchy's attempt to become a "Cuban church" rather than a "church in Cuba." Castro's intransigence in the face of the changes throughout communist Europe and communist parties worldwide also may retard the process of reconciliation between the Cuban government and the church. Finally, it is particularly difficult to predict with any certainty the path of the Cuban church when the identity of Castro's successor is unclear.
Challenges to the Church's Religious "Monopoly" In addition to the dramatic political changes of the past decade, many Latin American societies also have been experiencing an equally dramatic socioreligious transformation. Statistics have only recently appeared in the North American mainstream press, but Protestant growth has exploded in the past twenty-five years in what was once considered a "Catholic continent." Characterized as forming a "revolution" by sociologist David Martin, Protestants now comprise as much as 10 percent of the overall population (and more in certain areas). Given that active participants in the Catholic church may number no more than 15 percent of the general population, the rapidly expanding Protestant presence can be considered a major challenge to the Catholic church.(19) According to David Stoll, Brazil, Guatemala, El Salvador, and Honduras could be predominantly Protestant by the year 200t followed by 40 percent in Chile and 35 percent in Costa Rica and Bolivia. Thirty-five percent of the Mexican population is already Protestant, and an estimated 30 million Brazilians identify themselves with non-Catholic or Protestant sects.(20) The phenomenal growth in non-Catholic religious identification has yet to be fully quantified, but most observers agree that the preponderance of the growth has occurred among Pentecostal and neo-Pentecostal groups rather than within traditional, mainstream Protestant churches.
Protestantism -- and especially Pentecostalism -- with its emphasis on one's personal relationship to Jesus Christ-offers individuals a psychological sanctuary in an otherwise chaotic and hostile world. The typical focus on personal salvation, securing one's place in the afterlife, provides new value to the sufferings of this life. As well, great stress is placed on living one's life as a witness to Christ. Converts must give up their "old sinful ways" (drinking, extramarital relations, gambling, and the like), a change that not only confers a new sense of control over one's life but also may increase a family's standard of living as money previously spent on such activities is brought back to the family budget. These characteristics tend to be especially attractive to the lowest socioeconomic groups that are most marginalized. Moreover, because authority is conferred not by education or training but by (the often highly emotionalistic) evidence of the blessing of the Holy Spirit, Pentecostalism is far more accessible to the poor and uneducated than is the Catholic church. In turn, Pentecostal preachers of humble origin have more in common with, and hence can reach more effectively, potential converts in the popular sector, although as Edward Cleary indicates in Chapter 9, conversion to Pentecostalism increasingly crosses class lines in places like Guatemala. Finally, because religious authority is primarily charismatic, Pentecostal churches have proved to be quite prone to schism, resulting in a tremendous proliferation of worship sites. In this sense, Pentecostal churches do not suffer from the same resource constraints as the Catholic church. Few "wealthy" Pentecostal churches exist, but there are far more Pentecostal storefront churches in many (particularly urban) areas than the Catholic church, with its chronic shortage of priests, can staff.
Some observers have attributed Protestant growth to North American-sponsored and -funded political organizations that seek to strengthen right-wing regimes and undermine the progressive Catholic potential to mobilize popular dissent. Although evidence exists that confirms such a strategy among a number of North American religious, political, and quasi-governmental institutions, the rapidity and degree of Protestant growth cannot be explained solely as a North American conspiracy. More responsible studies, including Cleary's chapter on Protestant growth and Catholic revitalization in Guatemala, identify a myriad of factors that account for the rapid increase in rival religious organizations in Latin American societies. According to Cleary, the stresses associated with dependent development, coupled with an ongoing climate of political violence in a society with a historically high degree of popular religiosity create a heightened need for religious institutions that provide order and security in the midst of chaos.
Both Catholic traditionalists and progressives consider the tide of Protestant growth a threat. Progressives have tended to view Protestantism, which stresses one's personal relationship with God, as contrasting sharply with liberation theology's communitarian emphasis that often fosters sociopolitical commitment and community activism. Certainly, it is easy to find examples of Protestant groups that encourage political quietism or even explicit support for right-wing governments, such as Pentecostal support for Guatemalan dictator Efraín Ríos Montt or Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet. Thus, Catholic progressives most criticize many of the Protestant groups for espousing a religious worldview that can be used to legitimate political regimes and social orders that are contrary particularly to progressive interpretations of Catholic social doctrine. Traditionalists, on the other hand, see Protestant growth as an assault on Latin American culture that they assume is inextricably linked historically to the Catholic church. The belief that to be Latin American is to be Catholic has long served as a source of influence and power for the church. Traditionalists view Protestantism as not only a cultural invasion but also an attack on the integrity of the church. Both groups recognize the threat to the historical influence of the Latin American Catholic church posed by the multiplication of rival religious institutions.
Although church traditionalists and progressives share a common sense of threat from Protestant growth, their prescriptions can be quite different. To date, the trend has appeared to be that Pentecostal churches tend to win converts among the popular sector, the very sector most targeted by Catholic progressives.(21) Indeed, as some of the contributors to this book point out, many urban areas where the Catholic church has most developed its presence through active CEBs we precisely where one can find a proliferation of Pentecostal worship sites. Progressives see the CEBs as well as other forms of Catholic community organization as critical to strengthening the church's presence in these areas. The church must continue to build on its new network of community groups in order to dispel the historical perception of the church as an ally of the rich, indifferent to the daily concerns of the popular sector. Such community presence would not only result in a renewed relevance for the church in the lives of individuals, but it also would serve an educative function that could undermine the natural appeal of Pentecostalism. In contrast, traditionalists want to reallocate resources toward a more pastoral orientation of church and a renewed focus on expanding the church's traditional sacramental function. Traditionalists argue that Pentecostal attendance has increased as a natural response to the shortage of Catholic parishes and personnel in a population known historically for a high degree of popular religiosity; the proliferation of Pentecostal worship sites fills a void left by the Catholic church for sacramental services.
The Vatican has tended to agree with the traditionalists' interpretation of both the scope of the Protestant threat as well as their prescription for how to meet it. Thus, not only are CEBs and other neighborhood or grassroots groups being tied much more closely to the institutional church and its hierarchical authority structure, but the renewed emphasis on pastoral rather than political work has resulted in a distancing of the church from some of the organizations that it protected or fostered under previous military regimes. (22)This distancing, in turn, further reinforces the church's attempts to pull back to the realm "above politics."
Jeffrey Klaiber's chapter on the Peruvian church, in which he shows that Protestant groups in Peru do not necessarily eschew political or communitarian goals and strategies, adds an interesting new dimension to the discussion of the relationship between Catholicism and Protestantism in Latin America. The presidential election of Alberto Fujimori, himself a Catholic but the candidate endorsed by many of the Peruvian Protestant churches, indicates that Protestants, particularly the newer Pentecostal and neo-Pentecostal groups, may begin entering the political realm in unexpected ways in the next decades. Should this occur, Protestants likely will not enter politics in any uniform pattern because groups differ widely in religious principles (and hence, potentially, in political views). Especially among Pentecostals, political principles can vary according to the beliefs of the individual leaders of the churches. Moreover, religious differences may be mitigated by other shared concerns in countries facing desperate socioeconomic and political conditions. For example, Cleary points out that in Guatemala, the desire for a solution to the economic crisis and widespread violence cuts across classes as well as religious affiliation, resulting in similar voting patterns among Pentecostals and Catholics. Jorge Serrano, widely recognized as former dictator Rios Montt's surrogate, won the 1990 presidential election with votes from rich and poor, Catholic and non-Catholic alike. Because no uniform Protestant "movement" or sociopolitical doctrine exists, it is impossible to predict how widespread Protestant political activity would affect the Catholic church; however, it is clear that it would add another layer to the competition between Catholic and non-Catholic churches and, in turn, further complicate relations between Catholic traditionalists, conservatives, and progressives.
Conclusion Changing intrachurch, national, and interreligious conditions undergird the following examinations of the new challenges to and complexities of maintaining the church's prophetic voice and preferential option for the poor in the coming years. Yet no author here argues that the church can or will return to its pre-1960 status in Latin America. The space available to the progressive sector is in many ways more constrained and its boundaries less clear; however, conditions in Latin America ensure that this progressive sector will not disappear. The democratic trend is good news in Latin America, but very real threats to the political gains of the past decade still lurk behind the nearest corner. Militaries that have stepped out of the front halls of power often still exert enormous influence on civilian leaders and fragile democratic institutions from behind the scene. The United States, through its militarized "drug war" as well as a continued reliance on arms as a primary tool of diplomacy, ensures the institutional strength of militaries while often undermining civilian governments' capacity to rule. Moreover, the economic forecast for the foreseeable future is bleak. The relentlessness of the debt c6sis and As "solutions" result in ever more dramatic indicators of worsening conditions for the majority of Latin Americans. To be "voiceless" is still a reality for many, not only in nondemocratic countries. Many in the church will continue to speak on behalf of the voiceless throughout Latin America in the countryside in Guatemala, in the Brazilian hinterland, in the violence-torn regions of Peru -- albeit within a shifting context of intrachurch and church-politics relations.
Notes 1. Ivan Vallier, Catholicism, Social Control, and Modernization in Latin America (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1970).
2. Daniel H. Levine, ed., Church and Politics in Latin America (Beverly Hills, Calif.: Sage Publications, 1980); Levine, ed., Religion and Political Conflict in Latin America (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1986); Scott Mainwaring and Alexander Wilde, eds., The Progressive Church in Latin America (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1989); and T. Bruneau, M. Mooney and C. Gabriel, eds., The Catholic Church and Religions in Latin America (Montreal: Center for Developing-Area Studies, McGill University, 1984).
3. The list of country-specific studies that examine these issues is too long to list fully. Among the best-known books in this tradition are: Thomas Bruneau, The Political Transformation of the Brazilian Catholic Church (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1974); Bruneau, The Church in Brazil: The Politics of Religion (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1982); Margaret E. Crahan, The Church and Revolution in Cuba and Nicaragua (Bandoora, Australia: La Trobe University Institute of Latin American Studies, 1988); Daniel H. Levine, Religion and Politics in Latin America: The Catholic Church in Venezuela and Colombia (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1981); Scott Mainwaring, The Catholic Church and Politics in Brazil, 1916-1985 (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1986); Brian Smith, The Church and Politics in Chile (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1982); Hannah W. Stewart-Gambino, The Catholic Church and Politics in the Chilean Countryside (Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, 1992); Philip J. Williams, The Catholic Church and Politics in Nicaragua and Costa Rica (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1989).
4. The exception is Carol Drogus's chapter on women and base Christian communities in Brazil. Drogus examines the way in which changes in church orientation are refracted in the belief patterns of CEB participants rather than the struggles between elites regarding the proper role or orientation of the church.
5. Among others, Scott Mainwaring explicitly criticizes an excessively institutional approach that envisions the church as simply a rational actor that seeks to preserve its interests: Mainwaring, The Catholic Church and Politics in Brazil, pp. 7-11. A similar critique is made by Daniel H. Levine, Religion and Politics in Latin America, pp. 6-14. Other recent works that adopt an institutional approach that at once recognizes the unique religious ends of the church while examining its pursuit of its "interests" are Williams, The Catholic Church and Politics in Nicaragua and Costa Rica; Stewart-Gambino, The Catholic Church and Politics in the Chilean Countryside.
6. A good example of a study that views the two conceptions of the church as necessarily opposed is Luis H. Serra, "Religious Institutions and Bourgeois Ideology in the Nicaraguan Revolution," in Laura Nuzzi O'Shaughnessy and Luis H. Serra, The Church and Revolution in Nicaragua (Athens, Ohio: Monographs in International Studies, Latin America Series No. 11, Ohio University, 1986).
7. The most recent major work on the progressive church is Mainwaring and Wilde, eds., The Progressive Church in Latin America. This book seeks not so much to offer an alternative viewpoint to their work as to continue the story of a changing environment in which the progressive church is increasingly constrained within both national churches and the international church.
8. Penny Lernoux, People of Go & The Struggle for World Catholicism (New York: Penguin Books, 1989), p. 29.
9. Lernoux, People of God, pp. 35-36.
10. In addition to those sources already cited, see Philip Williams, "The Catholic Hierarchy in the Nicaraguan Revolution," Journal of Latin American Studies, vol. 17, pt. 2 (November 1985), pp. 241-269; Michael Dodson and Tommie Sue Montgomery, "The Churches in the Nicaraguan Revolution," in Thomas Walker, ed., Nicaragua in Revolution (New York: Praeger, 1982); Margaret E. Crahan, "Varieties of Faith: Religion in Contemporary Nicaragua," Kellogg Institute Working Paper, no. 5; Phillip Berryman, The Religious Roots of Rebellion: Christians in Central American Revolutions (London: SCM, 1984).
11. The following several pages are borrowed heavily from Hannah W. Stewart-Gambino, "The Evolving Role of the Latin American Church," in Abraham Lowenthal, ed., Latin American and Caribbean Contemporary Record (New York: Holmes and Meier, 1989), pp. A 100-Al 17.
12. Michael Dodson, "The Christian Left in Latin American Politics," Journal of Interamerican Studies and World Affairs 21 (February 1979), pp. 45-68; Michael Dodson, "Liberation Theology and Christian Radicalism in Contemporary Latin America," Journal of Latin American Studies 11 (May 1979), pp. 203-222.
13. Scott Mainwaring and Alexander Wilde, "The Progressive Church in Latin America: An Interpretation," in Mainwaring and Wilde, eds., The Progressive Church in Latin America, pp. 15-28.
14. Levine characterizes the line dividing popular organizations and partisan activity as the difference between the church serving as an "activator" versus "activist." Levine, Religion and Politics in Latin America.
15. ne most recent expression of this concern for maintaining traditional authority patterns is John Paul II's warning made on January 10, 1991, to Latin American religious to "obey their local bishops, especially regarding pastoral programs for the 500th anniversary in 1992 of the arrival of Christianity in the Americas." The pope expressed "profound worry" about alternative plans for the official celebration of the anniversary (i.e., the Word-Life catechetical program designed by the Confederation of Latin American Religious to offer the native American view of the colonial experience). The Word-Life program already has been banned by the Vatican as too critical of colonial evangelization. "Pope Warns Latin American Religious to Obey Local Bishops," National Catholic Reporter, January 25, 1991, p. 13.
16. A number of authors have noted this phenomenon recently. See, for example, the chapters by Williams, Mainwaring, Doimo, Ireland, and Romero in Mainwaring and Wilde, The Progressive Church in Latin America.
17. W. E. Hewitt, "Myths and Realities of Liberation Theology: The Case of the Basic Christian Communities in Brazil," in Richard Rubenstein and John Roth, eds., The Political Significance of Liberation Theology (Washington, D.C.: Washington Institute Press, 1988), pp. 135-155; Hewitt, "The Influence of Social Class on Activity Preferences of Comunidades de Base (CEBs) in the Archdiocese of Sao Paulo," Journal of Latin American Studies, vol. 19 (1987), pp. 141-156; Thomas Bruneau and W. E. Hewitt, "Patterns of Church Influence in Brazil's Political Transition," Comparative Politics, October 1989, pp. 39-61.
18. See also Lisette van den Hoogen, "The Romanization of the Brazilian Church: Women's Participation in a Religious Association in Prados, Minas Gerais," Sociological Analysis, vol. 50, no. 2 (1990), pp. 171-188.
19. Tim Stafford, "The Hidden Fire," Christianity Today, May 14, 1990, p. 23; David Stoll, Is Latin America Turning Protestant? The Politics of Evangelical Growth (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990); and David Martin, Tongues of Fire: The Explosion of Protestantism in Latin America (Oxford: Blackwell Press, 1990).
20. "A Quiet Revolution in Latin America: Is the Roman Catholic Bulwark Turning Protestant?" World Press Review, March 1991, p. 30.
21. As recent research indicates, this trend may be changing in areas where the Pentecostal churches have a strong foothold. Two recent publications on Protestantism are Stoll, Is Latin America? and Martin, Tongues of Fire.
22. John Paul II's eighth encyclical, released January 22, 1991, and entitled Redemptoris Missio, is an indication of this Vatican trend. This encyclical reminds the church that Christ's work is not yet completed and the church must continue and reinvigorate its missionary activity. The encyclical's call on Islamic countries to concede religious liberty received the most attention in the press because the encyclical was published in the early gages of We Gulf war. But the real thrust of the encyclical is the reassertion of the Catholic church as the "ordinary means of salvation and that she alone possesses the fullness of the means of salvation." Not only does this deal a blow to interreligious dialogue, but it places renewed emphasis on the pastoral function of the church. Latin American CEBs are cited as an antidote to the "sects which are sowing confusion by their activity" in Latin America, but within the context of their specifically pastoral and religious function as a means of outreach for the institutional church. Peter Hebblethwaite, "Mission Encyclical's Many Caveats Lean Most Heavily on Theologians," National Catholic Reporter, February 1, 1991.
INDEX