CONFLICT AND COMPETITION: The Latin American Church in a Changing Environment
edited by Edward L. Cleary / Hannah Stewart-GambinoCHAPTER 7 =================================
The Limits of Religious Influence:
The Progressive Church in Nicaragua
====================================== PHILIP WILLIAMSThe historical significance of the Nicaraguan revolution cannot be overstated. It represented the first time that a Marxist-inspired revolutionary movement had come to power with the support of significant sectors of the Catholic church. The revolution was heralded as a major breakthrough by Marxists and Christians alike, a unique opportunity to join together believers and nonbelievers in a project of national reconstruction.
In this chapter I focus on the progressive church in Nicaragua, arguing that since July 1979 its influence within the institutional church has declined significantly. The reasons for this decline are several. Besides the counteroffensive launched against it by the Catholic hierarchy and the Vatican, the progressive church had difficulty finding its role within the revolutionary process after Anastasio Somoza was overthrown. This "identity crisis," in addition to fueling disillusionment within the base community movement, sometimes led the progressive church to pursue strategies that were counterproductive to its development and consolidation. The extent to which each of these various factors limited the construction of a grassroots church is discussed in the first part of the chapter. In the second part I assess the future prospects for the progressive church, especially in the wake of the opposition victory in the February 1990 elections. On the one hand, the changed political landscape will present new challenges for the progressive church, but on the other hand, it may bring a new sense of purpose and dynamism lacking in recent years.
The term progressive church refers to that sector of the institutional church dedicated to building a grassroots church in Nicaragua.(1) In contrast to the traditional hierarchical notion of ecclesiastical authority, the grassroots model advocates the decentralization of church decisionmaking and authority, with comunidades eclesiaies de base (CEBs) serving as the fundamental organizational units in the church. According to this com"itarian notion, clergy in the grassroots church exercise their functions as copartners within the CEBs, rather than simply presiding over the CEBs.
Besides restructuring ecclesiastical authority within the church, this alternative grassroots model also seeks to transform the church's traditional relationship with civil society. Rather than seeking its "social insertion" by way of alliances with dominant economic groups, the grassroots church seeks its place amid the dominated and oppressed classes in society. This "preferential option for the poor" is seen as necessarily having political implications. In the context of revolutionary Nicaragua, the church's option for the poor translated into supporting government programs that benefitted the poor and encouraging Christians to participate in them. Such collaboration with the government was rooted in an interpretation of the gospel message that equates serving the poor with organizing people for their own benefit. Accordingly, it was only natural to support those government projects that advanced the cooperation and organization of the people. Simply put, by giving the revolutionary process its critical support, the church was fulfilling its mission of serving the poor.
The progressive church in Nicaragua is not an entity separate from the institutional church, and few progressives would advocate such a formal separation. Nevertheless, many of its activities take place "at the margin" of the institutional church (i.e., without the hierarchy's explicit approval). Finding it increasingly difficult to promote change from within the official structures of the church, the progressives have sought to provide an alternative Christian discourse to compensate for the hierarchy's silence on a number of issues. Not surprisingly, some of the bishops have viewed these activities as an attempt to form a breakaway church.
The Crisis in the Progressive Church After Somoza's overthrow, the progressive church was confronted with several challenges. One of the most serious of these was the radically different political context after July 1979. Before Somoza's fall, the burning issue within the Nicaraguan church was its relationship vis-à-vis the dictatorship. During the late 1960s, progressives began pressuring the hierarchy to break its silence concerning government human rights abuses and socioeconomic injustices. As the brutal nature of the Somoza regime became increasingly apparent during the 1970s, a consensus emerged within the church on the need to speak out publicly against the dictatorship. With Somoza's overthrow in 1979, the question was no longer whether to speak out but to what end. Should the church become tile "moral conscience" of the revolution, pointing out deviations from the revolution's original goals and criticizing government abuses of power'? Or should it be more concerned with awakening people to the benefits of the revolution and encouraging their active participation'? Related to this was the question of whether the church should actively collaborate with the Sandinista-led government in the tasks of the revolution or whether it should assume a less activist role so as not to jeopardize its political autonomy.
Progressives were inclined to collaborate with the new government in some form, but even so, their responses varied. Elsewhere, I have identified three distinct positions within the progressive sector of the church: direct participation, active collaboration, and passive collaboration.(2) Here, I will only summarize.
The first group included those priests and religious who took up positions in the government.(3) They considered their participation in the government a manifestation of their obedience to God, viewing the project of the revolution as consistent with the gospel message. As long as the revolution was under threat from external aggression, they saw their presence in the government as a necessary sacrifice to defend the revolution. Moreover, this presence ensured the church an active role within the revolutionary process, which could prevent it from becoming anti-religious. In response to the bishops' ultimatums that they leave the government, these priests and religious adopted a position of "conscientious objection," insisting upon their loyalty to the church hierarchy, but affirming that their duty to serve the poor was more important than retaining their ecclesiastical status. If anything, over time they became more determined than ever to continue in their posts, despite being sanctioned by the bishops in late 1984 and early 1985.(4)
The second group, of which the majority were foreign religious, corresponded to priests and religious actively collaborating in the tasks of the revolution. Their support for the revolutionary process was based on the belief that its objectives were in basic agreement with the gospel message. Their activities included assisting in various government programs, especially health and education, encouraging Christian participation in mass organizations, and providing an alternative Christian discourse supportive of the revolutionary process. Although their activities were criticized as being overly politicized, these priests and religious maintained that the church cannot and should not divorce itself from politics. They argued that Christ's own option for the poor had political implications, and that the church, as follower of Christ, should carry out his project regardless of the political repercussions.
After 1982, because of confrontations with the hierarchy, this second group undertook a reevaluation of its objectives and strategies. Recognizing the futility of conflict with the bishops (which led to the removal of a number of priests and religious from their parishes), some members of this group became more prudent in their criticisms of the hierarchy and went out of their way to demonstrate their loyalty to the church. They no longer referred to themselves as the Popular Church because this term was exploited by conservative sectors of the church to accuse progressive clergy of attempting to form a breakaway church.
The third group was characterized by a posture of passive collaboration. Although generally in agreement with the revolution's objectives and fairly supportive of government programs, priests and religious within this group tended to be more critical of what they considered unnecessary government abuses and less inclined to participate directly in government projects. Although respecting those priests and religious who collaborated actively in the revolution, this group was more wary of such political identification. Drawing a distinction between politics in the general sense of the word and partisan politics, priests and religious in this group argued that the church can never divorce itself from the former, but that it should try not to involve itself in the latter.
Within this group, in addition to a handful of Nicaraguan secular priests, were several foreign religious who served as parish priests. After initially assuming a posture of active collaboration, they had to curtail their public identification with the revolution because of tensions with their bishops.(5) With the hierarchy's growing opposition to the revoluionary process, many found it impossible to sustain a position of active collaboration.
From this brief discussion, it is clear that a key issue distinguishing these three groups from one another was that of partisan politics. There was some disagreement as to whether the progressive church, by identifying with the Sandinista National Liberation Front (FSLN), was pinning its future to a political party and thereby endangering its influence in civil society. What happened, for, example, if the FSLN's popularity began to wane; would this damage the progressive sector's credibility among the populace? The concerns over the church's partisan identification reflected the subtle differences within the progressive church.
There are some interesting parallels with the progressive church in Brazil. There, the changing political landscape during the 1980s presented the church with a whole new set of issues. After years of struggling against government abuses and repression, the church was suddenly faced with a process of political liberalization. The most pressing issue became the progressive church's relationship with opposition political parties, which had been strengthened by the political abertura (opening). Whereas some grassroots activists were highly suspicious of traditional political parties and shunned any formal contact, others "devoted themselves principally to partisan politics."(6) For those who chose greater political involvement. the issue of which party to support also became important.
Although there are many parallels between the two cases, it is important to point out some differences. In the Nicaraguan context, it was in a sense logical for progressives to identify with the FSLN after 1979. During the insurrections of 1978 and 1979, the urgency of the situation brought many church activists into close collaboration with the Sandinistas, whom they saw as the only real alternative to Somoza. The FSLN's credentials to speak on behalf of poor Nicaraguans undoubtedly were enhanced by the presence of a handful of Catholic priests within its ranks. In short, strong links already were forged and a pattern of collaboration established before the Sandinistas assumed power. This contrasts with the Brazilian case in which formal contacts between Catholic grassroots groups and political parties before the abertura were minimal. Until the creation of the Workers' Party (PT) in 1980, most Brazilian parties were viewed as essentially elitist and not representative of popular interests. Consequently, partisan political involvement was a much less obvious choice than in the Nicaraguan case.
A good example of how the issue of partisan politics affected the progressive church was the decline of the CEB movement. The crisis became so serious that in 1987 a progressive Christian magazine asserted:
In fact, currently in the cities there are not many dynamic or creative CEBs, but rather only some groups or remnants of groups.... There scarcely exist CEBs that include men and women who live out their faith within the revolutionary process.... Instead what one sees are groups of men and women who come together because of their traditional religious sentiment.(7)The reasons behind the CEBs' decline were several. On one level, CEBs had difficulty in redefining their evangelizing role. Unfortunately, before the revolution, CEBs did not focus on their future role within a revolutionary Nicaragua. Instead, the emphasis was on more immediate concerns such as denouncing human rights abuses and political repression. Before the triumph, the CEBs served as the only channels for political expression and grassroots organization. With Somoza's fall, however, the possibilities for political participation were greatly expanded, as people could take part in popular organizations, trade unions, and political parties. In some neighborhoods, CEBs became almost redundant, because their composition and activities differed little from that of the comites de defensa Sandinista (CDSs).(8) To avoid becoming merely another mass organization, the CEB movement needed to develop As own separate identity within the revolutionary process.Efforts by the base community movement to carve out a space for revolutionary Christians were not very successful. Because of the lack of coordination at the national level, CEB members tended to participate in the revolutionary process in a personal capacity, not as part of an organized movement that could serve as an effective interlocutor for its rank and file. Given the CEB movement's dispersed nature, the FSLN made little effort to incorporate it into the revolution in a more organic manner. Consequently, instead of advocating the interests of revolutionary Christians in a programmatic fashion, CEBs acted in a more conjunctural manner, responding to periodic crises that threatened the revolution. The lack of coordination also complicated the efforts to develop a national plan for the training of new pastoral agents and for the reactivation of idle CEBs, goals fundamental to the movement's growth and consolidation.(9)
The identity crisis also manifested itself in the efforts of some CEB members to rediscover the spiritual dimension of their faith. During the insurrection, the urgent tasks of the armed struggle permitted very little time for any serious theological reflection; as a result, CEBs came to function more like political action groups than Bible reflection groups.(10) Even after 1979, many CEBs continued to focus primarily on sociopolitical issues. This led some CEB members to turn to such movements as the catecumenado (intense religious instruction), in hopes of rediscovering the spiritual element that seemed to be lacking in their base communities.(11)
Reintroducing this spiritual element was essential if the CEB movement was to maintain its identity within the revolutionary process. As Levine points out in his paper, "the most durable and successful" grassroots groups tend to be those that "have a vital and continuing religious message, and manage to keep religious practice and discussion at the core of their activities.(12) The Brazilian case would seem to confirm this. In Brazil, CEBs have been relatively successful in maintaining their religious character and avoiding explicit partisan involvement. Instead of focusing primarily on issues of national political import, Brazilian CEBs have tended to concentrate on local issues. Also contributing to their vitality has been their enduring linkage with the institutional church. Support from the hierarchy, though possibly limiting the autonomy of CEBs, has been essential to their growth.(13)
In contrast, CEBs in Nicaragua maintained a highly tenuous relationship with the institutional church. Even before 1979, CEBs, particularly in the archdiocese, had weak ties to the hierarchy. Rather than constituting a key component of the archdiocese's pastoral strategies, they were regarded as isolated pilot projects, tolerated by the archbishop. After 1979, when the hierarchy became preoccupied with asserting its authority over the institution of the church, CEBs increasingly were seen as being overly politicized and a threat to the bishops' authority.
The hierarchy's less tolerant attitude toward the CEB movement fueled tension. In some parishes, CEB members occupied churches to protest the hierarchy's removal of priests and religious supportive of the revolution and publicly criticized the bishops' more controversial pastoral letters. Instead of focusing on redefining their role within the revolutionary process, the CEBs devoted much of their energy to an ideological struggle against the hierarchy. Because of their criticisms of the hierarchy, some of the bishops no longer considered CEBs to be in communion with the institutional church. Although CEBs insisted on their loyalty to the bishops, some found it difficult, if not impossible, to maintain their ecclesial identity. On an individual level, this led to a feeling of isolation and confusion on the part of some members. Consequently, many CEB members no longer felt themselves accepted as part of the church.(14)
Because most of the bishops refused to support the CEB movement, its activities took place largely on the fringe of the institutional church. This, of course, presented it with a number of problems. First of all, the CEB movement lacked access to the resources that the institutional church could obtain. Also, without the official blessing of the hierarchy, its credibility was questioned by some of the faithful. And finally, the potential for conflict with the hierarchy was great, with serious repercussions for the progressive church. Tension escalated during 1981 and 1982, when criticisms of the hierarchy were converted into a personal struggle against the archbishop. As a result, the progressive church lost sight of its primary objectives and instead devoted much energy to its conflict with archbishop Miguel Obando y Bravo. This was at a time when it should have been consolidating its accomplishments and elaborating its new role within the revolutionary process.
Another challenge facing the progressive church was the problem of "membership drain." After the triumph, many of the best lay leaders who were involved in the armed struggle gave up their pastoral duties to become local leaders in the FSLN or to take up positions in the government. In fact, there was a much diminished participation in pastoral activities in general as many Catholic were involved full-time in other activities (e.g. popular organizations, adult education programs, militia duties, and production brigades). This was especially true in the case of CEBs, which lost many of their most dynamic members. After 1984, the situation was compounded by the deepening economic crisis. In a typical Nicaraguan family, family members had to work two or three jobs simply to make ends meet, which left little time for other activities.
Catholic youth groups also were hard hit because many of the most capable student leaders were involved in Sandinista youth organizations and were constantly being mobilized for militia training or crop harvesting. Large numbers (of young males) were called up for their two-year military service. The war greatly exacerbated the membership drain. In northern departments, many lay leaders were kidnapped or assassinated by the contras, and those working in conflictive zones were in constant danger.(15) They were targeted by the contras because of their participation in the struggle to overthrow Somoza and their support of the revolution.
The membership drain presented the progressive church with a curious dilemma. On the one hand, it welcomed the participation of Catholics in the government and mass organizations, because this involvement guaranteed the church a Christian presence within the revolutionary process.(16) On the other hand, the loss of such dynamic pastoral agents was a setback to the efforts to build a grassroots church in Nicaragua. The question, then, was whether the institutional interests of the church should be put before the interests of the revolution. Most progressives were inclined to point to the positive aspects of the phenomenon, but it served as an important limitation on their influence.
Undoubtedly the most serious challenge for the progressive sector was the neoconservative offensive launched by members of the Nicaraguan hierarchy and the Vatican, who blamed progressive clergy and religious for the divisions within the church and for attempting to create a popular church outside the authority of the bishops. According to the church hierarchy, internal unity and stability were threatened by the political activities of priests and religious in support of the revolution. One of the clearest statements of this view was contained in the bishops' April 6, 1986, pastoral letter entitled "The Eucharist: Source of Unity and Reconciliation."(17) In it, the bishops denounced a "belligerent group" of progressive priests and religious for trying to undermine the unity of the church "with acts and postures of open rebellion" against the hierarchy. They also accused the group of attempting to damage the hierarchy's credibility by linking the bishops with the "imperialist plans of the United States" and portraying the pope as "ejecutor of said plans." Resting total responsibility for the church's divisions with this group of priests and religious, the bishops called on them "to reconsider their errors" and rectify their situation with the church hierarchy. The bishops did not mention dialogue or a healthy diversity of views as facilitating unity. Rather, uniformity -- "one single mentality and one single judgment" -- was considered the best guarantor of unity.
One example of the hierarchy's efforts to undermine the progressive sector was the removal of several priests and religious from their parishes. The archbishop of Managua, Cardinal Obando y Bravo, pursued a strategy aimed at purging the archdiocese of progressive clergy. Between 1980 and 1982 fourteen priests and twenty-two sisters supportive of the revolution were transferred from their parishes or had their official pastoral authorization suspended.(18) Although a large number of progressive priests and religious still remained, only a handful were authorized to engage in pastoral work. Generally, the replacements were priests loyal to Obando, who attempted to undo the pastoral strategies of their predecessors. This fueled tensions in a number of parishes, particularly those where the CEB movement was strongest.
The removals were not confined to the archdiocese. In the diocese of Estelí, for example, twenty-eight priests and religious (of a total of sixty-six) were removed from their parishes between 1983 and 1987. The majority of these did not even receive an official explanation from the bishop.(19) Furthermore, the purges extended beyond the clergy to lay leaders. For example, in September 1984 the bishop of Estelí, Monsignor Rubén López, sent out a circular informing priests that any Delegates of the Word not trained in courses expressly authorized by the bishop no longer had the authority to carry out pastoral work.(20) The bottom line was that hundreds of Delegates of the Word were no longer recognized by the bishop as legitimate lay leaders. Such strategies no doubt were aimed at undermining the pastoral work of priests no longer considered to be in communion with their bishops.
The Vatican also publicly expressed its support for the bishops and its distaste for the progressive sector of the church. For example, during his March 1983 visit to Nicaragua, the pope blamed progressive clergy and religious for divisions within the church and ordered them to respect the doctrinal and pastoral directives of their bishops, so as to preserve the church's internal unity. Likewise, in a December 1985 letter to the Nicaraguan bishops, the Pope applauded the hierarchy's efforts to achieve national reconciliation, alluding to the bishops' April 1984 pastoral letter that called on the government to begin talks with the contras. The pope also lamented recent "difficulties in pastoral work," implying that the church was being persecuted by the government.(21) An even more significant affirmation of support for the Nicaraguan episcopate was the pope's appointment of Obando y Bravo as cardinal in April 1985, the only one in Central America.
Besides public expressions of support for the bishops, the Vatican adopted other more subtle strategies in its offensive against priests and religious who identified with the Sandinistas. One such strategy was to modify the statutes of the Association of Nicaraguan Clergy (ACLEN) and the National Conference of Religious (CONFER) both of which were known to take a line independent of the bishops with regard to the revolution. By revising these organizations' statutes, the Vatican was able to alter significantly their political configuration and to bring them under control of the local hierarchy and regional superiors.(22)
Another strategy was the appointment of bishops who were loyal to the Vatican line. Besides having ultimate authority over these appointments, the Vatican, through its papal nuncios, ensured that nominees were properly conservative and noncontroversial. Although such a strategy can never be foolproof (as the case of Archbishop Oscar Romero would indicate), recent appointments in Nicaragua should not alter the increasingly conservative nature of the bishops' conference. In 1988 two new auxiliary bishops were named for the archdiocese. Both are conservative and have close ties to Obando. In the case of Monsignor Abelardo Mata, his relationship with Obando seems to have been more important than his pastoral experience in Nicaragua, where he has spent very little time during the past twenty years. In fact, one of the bishops confided that before seeing the list of nominees, he had never heard of Mata.(23) Such strategies may serve the short-term interests of the Vatican in its offensive against the progressive sector, but in the long run they may weaken the church's ability to respond dynamically to social change.
Undoubtedly, the influence of the progressive sector within the institutional church has been greatly weakened since 1979. This does not mean, however, that its influence among the faithful is no longer significant. Opinion surveys, in fact, demonstrate quite the opposite. For example, an August 1988 poll taken among Managua's youth (ages 16-24) revealed that 44 percent identified with the "popular" current of the church as opposed to 31 percent who identified with the "traditional" current.(24) Although its influence among younger Nicaraguans does not carry over to the population as a whole -- a June 1988 opinion poll revealed that 18 percent of Managuans identified with the popular current versus 47 percent with the traditional -- the figures are nonetheless significant.(25) According to Roger Lancaster`s study of popular religion in working-class barrios of Managua:
A substantial majority of the population in Managua's popular barrios affiliates with, identifies with, or supports the activities of the Popular Church to one degree or another. Various observers ... have commented on the "weak social base" of the Popular Church .... But in fact the strength lies less in its activism at the base community level and more in its relative hegemony over popular religious ideology.(26)Thus, although the progressive sector may no longer hold much sway over the institutional church, it still maintains a considerable degree of influence within civil society as a whole, It is this continuing influence, in addition to its relationship with the Sandinistas, that so much concerns the church hierarchy. The question is whether the new political landscape in Nicaragua will serve to limit yet further the religious influence of the progressive church.New Challenges in the 1990s The National Opposition Union (UNO) victory in the February 1990 elections has presented the progressive church with a whole new set of challenges. On the one hand, these challenges may reduce even further the influence of the progressive church; on the other, they may bring a new sense of purpose and dynamism that was lacking in recent years. The future of the progressive church will depend largely on (1) the extent to which the elections contribute to the emergence of a consensus within Nicaraguan society; (2) the way in which the progressive church defines its role within the new political context; and (3) its relationship with the institutional church. These three factors are, of course, closely related to one another. For example, the progressive sector's vision of the church's mission in society will be affected by the particular political context within which it must operate. Similarly, their relationship with the institutional church will depend in part on how they define their mission and the strategies they adopt. Finally, the degree of consensus in society will be influenced to some extent by the church's efforts at internal reconciliation.
One factor that will be important in determining the future of the progressive church is the extent to which the February 1990 elections contribute to the emergence of a consensus among the key political actors in the country. For this to happen, however, there needs to be an agreement as to the ground rules of the political game. The prospects for such a consensus emerging are mixed. On the positive side, the Sandinistas carried through with their commitment to administer a democratic electoral process and to respect the results. This, in addition to Daniel Ortega's conciliatory gestures immediately after the elections, paved the way for a transition agreement between the FSLN and the government-elect of Violeta Barrios de Chamorro in March 1990.
Although the transition agreement may have contributed positively to the emergence of a consensus, several caveats are worth mentioning. First of all, the agreement was very exclusive in nature. Only the FSLN leadership and Chamorro's personal advisers participated in the discussions. Neither UNO political leadership nor COSEP (Superior Council for Private Enterprise) was consulted during any stage of the process. The danger of marginalizing such groups was illustrated during the July 1990 general strike, when leaders from UNO and COSEP displayed an unwillingness to play by the agreed-upon "rules of the game."(27) Rejecting accommodation with the Sandinistas, these groups have tried to cultivate support among demobilized contras -- another group marginalized from the transition negotiations -- by supporting their demands for land, credit, and technical assistance. The Chamorro government's failure to deliver on is promises has led to widespread disaffection among former contra soldiers. In the months after the elections, bands of ex-contras staged land invasions, often with the support of right-wing UNO politicians. Beginning in January 1991, a number of former contras took up arms against the government became of the slow pace of the proposed land distribution program Sporadic violence, involving both ex-contras and former members of the Sandinista military continued throughout 1991.(28)
Maintaining a consensus depends not only on the willingness of leaders to abide by the terms of agreements but also on their ability to control the demands of party faithful. Given the deteriorating economic situation, it is uncertain whether the FSLN can or will enforce discipline over its mass organizations. The FSLN's support for the workers' demands during the strikes of May and July 1990 reflected its unwillingness to cooperate with the government's stabilization and structural adjustment program, especially given the program's impact on living conditions of lower-class Nicaraguans. Furthermore, without access to state resources, the FSLN's ability to restrain the demands of Sandinista-affiliated mass organizations has declined. This no doubt has been compounded by the party's internal crisis, which has resulted in a less coherent leadership and a generalized sense of disorientation among the rank-and-file.
Despite these setbacks, during the first two years of the Chamorro government there has been a growing degree of collaboration between it and the FSLN leadership. Lacking a cohesive political party with links to organized interests in civil society, the Chamorro government increasingly has looked to Sandinista leaders to play an intermediary role that would facilitate implementation of its stabilization and structural adjustment program. For example, in October 1990 talks were held to hammer out a socioeconomic pact between the government, labor, and employers. At the same time, the FSLN leadership engaged in behind-the-scenes lobbying to persuade the government to abandon the more "explosive" elements of its program. These parallel conversations, which produced compromises on both sides, removed important obstacles that otherwise may have precluded an agreement in the public negotiations.(29) Since then, despite outbreaks of violence and disaffection among more-radical elements of the UNO coalition and the FSLN, Sandinista leaders have maintained a working relationship with the Chamorro government.
A second factor which will shape the future of the progressive church is the way in which it views its mission within the new political landscape. During the two years since the elections, Progressives have dedicated their efforts to defending the "social conquests" of the revolution and searching for new strategies to improve the conditions of poor Nicaraguans. This commitment to defend the accomplishments of the revolution in the areas of agrarian reform, education, health care, and women's rights probably has led to tensions with the Chamorro government and continuing tension with the hierarchy. The level of conflict has been limited somewhat by the FSLN leadership's success in moderating the government's structural adjustment program. Nonetheless, the deepening economic crisis has led to growing demands by mass organizations, at a time when the government's capacity to respond to these demands has diminished. In the future, the majority of progressive clergy and religious can be expected to continue to support the demands of mass organizations. Whether this will lead to an increase in tensions with the government ultimately will depend on the government's success in improving the conditions of poor Nicaraguans.
The last factor is the progressive sector's relationship with the institutional church. This relationship will be influenced both by the new political context and the way in which each side defines the church's mission. As mentioned above, as long as Progressives view the church's role as that of defending the accomplishments of the revolution on behalf Nicaraguans, conflict with the more conservative bishops will be likely, given their contrasting vision of the church. These bishops see the church's mission as mediating between God and humankind -- personal salvation must be medited through the church -- and this view, of course, connotes a hierarchical conception of decisionmaking and authority, with the bishops as the ultimate authority. Not surprisingly, efforts by progressive clergy and religious to decentralize the church, are seen as an obstacle to the church's completion of its mission. Furthermore, in line with established church tradition, the conservative bishops oppose revolutionary political change and favor a "third way" between communism on the left and capitalism on the right. They object to progressives' partisan identification with the FSLN, viewing it as a threat to the church's political autonomy. According to these bishops, the church should foster reconciliation between conflicting interests rather than taking sides.
Immediately following the elections the conservative bishops, including Cardinal Obando y Bravo, sought a relationship of active collaboration with the new government. Although the hierarchy adopted a formally "neutral" position during the electoral process, it was no secret where Obando's political sympathies lay. The coincidence of political positions between the most conservative sector of the church and political opposition groups before the February 1990 elections has been well documented.(30)
A clear indication of the hierarchy's identification with the new government was its June 1990 pastoral letter calling on Nicaraguans to close ranks behind the government in support of its economic recovery plan.(31) This was followed by another letter in August, in which the bishops warned workers against staging politically motivated strikes that could lead to "the paralyzing of all socioeconomic life" -- an obvious reference to the July general strike.(32)
On a symbolic level, church leaders, particularly Obando y Bravo, have been present at state occasions, as have government officials at important religious ceremonies. This public support for the new government has not gone unrewarded. For example, soon after her inauguration, President Chamorro promised to assist the archdiocese with the construction of a new cathedral, a long-held dream of the cardinal. Even more significant was the appointment of Sofonías Cisneros, member of the archdiocesan secretariat and a close associate of the cardinal, as minister of education, thereby guaranteeing the church hierarchy considerable influence over the planned reform of school curriculum. In an interview in July 1990, Vice Minister of Education Humberto Belli (another Obando confidant) stated that the government intended to introduce an "education with Christian values," echoing similar statements made by Cardinal Obando.(33) Finally, the government has provided the church with free space on the state television station to broadcast Obando's regular Sunday mass.
Since the summer of 1990, the more conservative bishops have become increasingly critical of the Chamorro government, adopting public positions similar to those of UNO's right wing. In November 1991, for example. the Bishops' Conference issued a pastoral letter criticizing the government's failure to take a hard line against Sandinista militants implicated in violent disturbances that same month. According to the bishops, instead of bringing those responsible to justice the government continues to justify its inaction in the name of peace and reconciliation. Echoing the demands of UNO's right wing, the bishops also called on the government to sharply reduce the defense budget, given that the country is no longer involved in a military conflict.(34)
The degree of identification between the conservative sector of the church and the right wing of UNO will have an important impact on the bishops' strategies toward the progressive church. Refusal to accept a relationship of peaceful coexistence with the Sandinistas can only complicate efforts to reconcile divisions within the church. Consequently, it is doubtful that the conservative bishops will tolerate the pastoral initiatives of Me progressive clergy and religious. Rather, they will continue to view such initiatives as poiticized and as a threat to their authority within the church.
There are, of course, limits to how far the conservative bishops can go in their efforts to undermine the progressive church. Given the relative scarcity of pastoral agents in the country, a continued offensive against progressive clergy and religious could lock the hierarchy into a dangerous conflict which ultimately will be counterproductive to the institutional church. Over the years, progressive clergy and religious have been effective in training lay leaders, especially in rural parishes where the ratio of parishoners to priests can reach as high as 20,000 to 1. Their removal would further weaken the church's presence in such areas. Even in urban parishes, the church has been stretched thin of late -- partly the result of the numerous removals discussed above and the massive influx of war refugees. For example, in the urban parish of Matagalpa current levels of church personnel are insufficient to attend the thousands of new parishoners that have flooded into squatter settlements in recent years.(35) The problem of insufficient personnel has been compounded by the bishop of Matagalpa's refusal to implement pastoral strategies, such as the promotion of CEBs, that might otherwise have strengthened the church's presence in marginal towns. However, the success of evangelical sects in winning hundreds of new converts in squatter settlements may have tempered Bishop Santi's fear about CEBs becoming excessively politicized. Recently, the bishop has been considering the adopdon of new pastoral strategies, including the formation of CEBs, to check the influence of evangelical sects in these areas.(36)
The challenge posed by the growing influence of evangelical sects is a concern to both progressives and conservatives within the church. In February 1990, the spokesman for the archbishop's office, Monsignor Bismark Carballo, deriounced a media blitz undertaken by the Christian Broadcast Network as "trafficking with the hunger of the people."(37) Members of the base community movement seconded his objections. The $3-million campaign targeted Guatemala and El Salvador as well as Nicaragua and was expected to win more than 2 million converts. The continued growth of evangelical sects challenges the influence of the institutional church as a whole, but it may present opportunities for future collaboration between formerly antagonistic sectors of the church.
Conclusion Faced with these new challenges, progressive clergy and religious will find it necessary to develop strategies which enable them to work within the official structures of the church. In recent years, their activities at the margin of the institutional church have made them an easy target for the bishops, who could accuse them of "parallel magisterium." It may be in the interests of the progressive church to repair its strained relations with some of the bishops, but this will be possible only within the context of national reconciliation. The emergence of a consensus whereby the country's principal political actors agree to work together in a project of national reconstruction would have a beneficial impact on the church's efforts toward internal reconciliation. A reduction in tensions within the church and in civil society in general may lead to a more tolerant attitude on the part of some of the bishops. In a less politically charged atmosphere, grassroots pastoral initiatives may not be seen as having such serious political implications. This, of course, would enable progressives to reestablish the ecclesial link between such initiatives and the institutional church.
As noted above, the prospects for such a national consensus emerging are mixed. Even if a consensus is forged in the near future, the possibilities of reconciliation within the church continue to be problematic in the archdiocese. Obando's unwillingness to tolerate diversity among his clergy is not likely to change. Although in the future he may view the progressive church as less of a political problem, it is almost certain that he ON continue to regard it as an internal church problem. An indication of ths was Obando's decision to deny the Dominicans' provincial superior a vote in the upcoming 1992 Church Council, purportedly because of an ongoing political feud with the Dominicans.(38) In other dioceses, which suffer from an acute personnel shortage and where internal divisions are nowhere near as severe, the prospects for internal reconciliation are much better. For example, on the Atlantic Coast the bishops have been more tolerant of different political positions and pastoral orientations. As a result, progressive clergy and religious are assured a greater degree of flexibility with which to implement grassroots pastoral strategies. It may be that the seeds of a revitalized progressive church will take root in isolated rural parishes. The challenge, however, will be to project such pastoral experiences on a national scale.
Despite the limitations on the progressive church in the wake of the opposition electoral victory, the changed political landscape may present new opportunities in the future. In the context of the Chamorro government, progressive clergy and religious may have an easier time defining their role within civil society. While the question of partisan identification with the FSLN and Sandinista-affiliated mass organizations will continue to serve as a source of some disagreement, opposition to UNO attempts to roll back programs that benefit poor Nicaraguans may provide a focus for unity. By defining its new role in terms of defending the social conquests of the past ten yearn the progresive church may succeed in energizing that sector of the church committed to the empowerment of poor Nicaraguans. In short, the new political context may enable the progressive church to finally overcome the identity crisis which has limited its ability to influence civil society in recent years.
Notes 1. For an excellent discussion of the main features of the progressive church in Latin America, see Scott Mainwaring and Alexander Wilde, eds., The Progressive Church in Latin America (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1989), pp. 4-34.
2. See Philip Williams, The Catholic Church and Politics in Nicaragua and Costa Rica (London: Macmillan, 1989), pp. 68-79.
3. Immediately after the triumph, two priests, Ernesto Cardenal and Miguel D'Escoto, became minister of culture and foreign minister respectively. Fernando Cardenal became director of the Sandinista Youth and then minister of education, and Edgar Parrales was appointed minister of social health, later to become Nicaragua's representative to the Organization of American States (OAS). A number of other priests and religious took up technical and advisory positions within various government ministries and institutions.
4. Fernando Cardenal was removed from the Jesuit order in December 1984, and Ernesto Cardenal and Miguel D'Escoto were sanctioned in January 1985. Edgar Parrales asked to leave the priesthood about the same time. Those priests sanctioned refrained from public priestly functions as long as they were in office.
5. Unlike other religious, who teach at universities, technical colleges, and schools (and who are not engaged in pastoral work), these priests are responsible to both their local bishops and their religious superiors.
6. Scott Mainwaring, "Grass-Roots Catholic Groups and Politics in Brazil," in Mainwaring and Wilde, The Progressive Church, p. 173.
7. Amanecer, no. 50 (June-July 1987), p. 22.
8. CDSs were organized at the urban block level and functioned as political decisionmaking bodies concerned with production, distribution, health, education, militia organization, and neighborhood security.
9. Interview with Rafael Aragon (provincial superior of the Dominicans in Central America), July 12,1990.
10. Amanecer, nos. 7-8 (March-April 1982), p. 13.
11. Interview with Domingo Gatti, May 17-18, 1985, Juigalpa.
12. Daniel Levine, "Popular Religion and Political Change in Latin America," paper prepared for Latin American Studies Association International Congress, December 1989, pp. 9-10.
13. Mainwaring, "Grass-Roots Catholic Groups," pp. 154-158.
14. Rosa Maria Pochet and Abelino Martinez, Nicaragua: Iglesia -- Manipulación politica o profecía? (San Jose: Editorial DEI, 1987), p. 60.
15. In the El Jícaro parish (Nueva Segovia), for example, nine Delegates of the Word had been assassinated by the contras through 1984. Interview with Alfredo Gundrum (parish priest in El Jícaro), December 7, 1984, El Jícaro; for a collection of firsthand accounts of contra atrocities against Catholic lay leaders, see Teófilo Cabestrero, Blood of the Innocent: Victims of the Contra War in Nicaragua (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis, 1985).
16. Interview with Bernard Wagner (parish priest in Wiwili and Quilali), November 20, 1984, Managua; interview with Ram6n Pardina (parish priest in San Juan del Sur), January 10, 1985, San Juan del Sur; interview with EnriqueCoursol (parish priest in Totogalpa), December 2, 1984, Totogalpa.
17. Conferencia Episcopal de Nicaragua (CEN), "Carta del episcopado nicaragüense sobre la eucaristía, fuente de unidad y reconciliación," Managua, April 6,1986.
18. Nuevo Diario, November 4,1983,
19. Amanecer, no. 51 (June-July 1987), pp. 7-9.
20. Rubón López Ardón, "Instrucción diocesana 'eminente vocación' sobre los delegados de la palabra," Estelí, September 24, 1984. Although the bishop of Estelí is one of the more moderate bishops, as the only Nicaraguan among this group, he is under constant pressure from the hard-line bishops (most of whom are Nicaraguan) to adopt a tougher stance. Consequently, he has assumed a highly ambiguous position. On the one hand, he has sought to consolidate his authority within the diocese of Estelí; on the other, he was the only bishop to greet Miguel D'Escoto during the February 1986 "March for Peace."
21. Envío, November 1987, p. 32.
22. For more on this, see Williams, The Catholic Church, pp. 60-62.
24. Envío, March 1989, pp. 30-40.
25. Envío, December 1988, pp. 10-23.
26. Roger Lancaster, Thanks to God and the Revolution (New York: Columbia University Press, 1988), pp. 86-88.
27. During the strike, representatives from UNO and COSEP formed the National Salvation Committee, charging that Chamorro was incapable of dealing with the national emergency. The committee began organizing and distributing arms to paramilitary brigades, directly undermining the Chamorro government's political authority. See Central America Report, July 13 and 20, 1990.
28. For an excellent assessment of the postelection reconstruction period, see Laura Enríquez, et, al., Nicaragua: Reconciliation Awaiting Recovery (Washington Office on Latin America, April 1991).
29. Interview with Comandante Luis Carrión, November 23,1990, Managua.
30. See Williams, The Catholic Church, pp. 88-95, and Ana Maria Ezcurra, Agresión Ideológica Contra la Revolución Sandinista (Mexico City: Ediciones Nuevomar, 1983).
31. CEN, "Comunicado de la Conferencia Episcopal de Nicaragua" (Managua, June 4, 1990).
32. CEN, "Mensaje dc la Conferencia Episcopal de Nicaragua" (Managua, August 15, 1990).
34. La Prensa Gráfica, "La Iglesia Nicaraguënse Demanda Reducir Gasto Militar," November 25, 1991, p. 63.
35. Since the beginning of the war, the city's population has mushroomed from about 40,000 to slightly over 70,000
36. Interview with Monsignor Benedicto Herrera, vicar general of Matagalpa, February 21, 1990, Matagalpa.
37. Central America Report, April 6, 1990, pp. 101-103.
38. The Dominicans were particularly outspoken in their support for the revolutionary process. At one point Obando tried to pressure the Dominican superiors to withdraw the entire order from Nicaragua. Interview with Rafael Aragón, (provincial superior of the Dominicans in Central America), July 12, 1990, Managua.
INDEX