Contents Page,
Vol. 1, No. 1
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to other articles
in this issue:
Promise Keepers
Charitable Choice
McCaughey Babies
Islam in Virginia
The Pope in Cuba
Patriarch's Visit
Religion in a Cold Climate
Clinton Scandal |
Religion and
the Post-Welfare State: An Untold Story
by Peter Dobkin HallOver the past quarter century, deep changes in religious life and
public policy have converged in ways that have transformed both. But aside from some
attention to the increasing significance of spirituality and the growing political
activism of religious conservatives, the news media have generally failed to grasp the
scale and scope of what may be the most important and fundamental alteration in the
character of American public life since the disestablishment of religion in the first
quarter of the nineteenth century.
What are these changes? In religion, they involve not only intensified political
engagement (including the broadening of what had been a regional movement into a national
one), but also shifts in the arenas and forms of worship. Denominational structures are in
eclipse. Congregations are now only one of many settings in which believers practice their
beliefs. Clergy are as likely to be called to ministries in care-giving, service
provision, and agency management as in traditional pastorates. On the public policy side,
the barriers separating church and state have been swept aside as education, health, and
human services tasks, once regarded as federal government responsibilities, have been
shifted to states and localities and into the hands of private-sectoroften
faith-basedactors.
Why have these changes gone largely unnoticed? Since organized religion and faith
communities have a long history of commitment to the needs of the dependent and disabled,
the increasing importance of faith-based service provision has not been regarded as
anything new or different. But there are other reasons, the most important of which have
to do with the architecture of public perception. Because for more than half a century we
have looked to Washington as the center and source of power, influence, and change, we are
simply not equipped to monitor or assess large-scale shifts when they begin to unfold
elsewhere. Information flows from the center outward, not from the periphery to the
center.
Equally important is the fact that the reporters who cover politics and policy are not
sensitive to or particularly interested in religion, while the reporters who cover the
denominational and congregational activities conventionally supposed to comprise the sum
and substance of religious life, are unprepared to engage the complexities of emergent
social welfare policy. These gaps in media capacity are significant at a time when the
overhaul of the social service infrastructure relies increasingly not only on traditional
kinds of faith-based organizations to serve the needs of the dependent and disabled, but
also on publicly funded secular agencies, many of them run by clergy, members of religious
orders, and faith communities.
Despite the formidable barriers supposed to have existed between church and state,
governmentsparticularly on the state and municipal levelhave been
contracting with religious bodies for more than a century. Orphaned children, nominally
public charges, long have been placed in institutions operated by denominations and
religious orders and, more recently, in faith-based foster-care agencies.
In the 1960s, government funding of faith-based health and human services activities
grew enormously. Not only did established groups like the Salvation Army and Catholic
Charities become major recipients of funds under federal social programs, the Great
Societys War on Poverty, with its agenda of community empowerment, began funneling
economic development, housing, education, and other funds to African-American
congregations and to secular corporationsparticularly Community Development
Corporations (CDCs)that they controlled.
The deinstitutionalization of the mentally disabled, which began in the late 1960s,
enormously increased the role of faith-based service provision. When the federal courts
mandated care for the retarded and the mentally ill in "least restrictive"
community settings, the states subject to these consent decrees turned to nonprofit
service providers. Traditional secular and religious social agencies were reluctant to
take on this task, butthanks to the Second Vatican Councils
encouragement of social ministries by members of religious ordersthere was a
ready supply of deeply religious men and women ready to take on some of the most arduous
care-giving challenges.
It didnt take long for the names of Father Bruce Ritter and Covenant House to
become staples of the broadcast and print mediawhether portrayed heroically,
as they were when in ascent, or villainously, when the Covenant House sexual scandal
broke. But hardly any reporter grasped either the extent to which this ministry to
troubled youth was part of an international human-services empire, largely supported by
public monies, or the extent to which this kind of publicly funded faith-based service
provision was becoming common throughout the United States. At its height, Covenant House
was running an annual budget of $100 million. Only Charles Sennott, the New York Post
reporter who broke the scandal, understood the larger implications and, as his 1992 book,
Broken Covenant: The Secret Life of Father Bruce Ritter, makes clear, it was an uphill
battle even to get his editors to publish the bare facts of the story, much less the
questions it raised about faith-based service provision.
Covenant House was, in fact, only a detail in a far bigger picture of privatized
faith-based service provision. But this storyparticularly the national growth
of a multi-billion-dollar group home industrywent unreported. Some reporters,
taking note of the growing ranks of homeless people, investigated the impact of
court-ordered de-institutionalization of the mentally impaired, usually focusing on the
failure of state governments to establish community-based treatment and care. But hardly
any noticed the extent to which the states were fulfilling these responsibilities, and the
extent to which they were doing so through agencies run either by religious groups or by
clergy and members of religious orders called to secular managerial or care-giving
ministries.
This is no small line item. Although reliable figures are elusive, it appears that the
group home industry has represented the largest outlay of public funds for any
non-defense-related purpose since the construction of the interstate highway system. In
Connecticut, for example, nearly 90 per cent of the states entire economic
development budget for the period 1985-1992a quarter of a billion
dollarswas used for acquiring and renovating group home properties, the
lions share going to a single politically connected consortium of for-profit and
nonprofit firms, many of them faith-based. But when reporters for the Hartford Courant,
tipped off by the release of a secret report compiled by the states office of
legislative services, brought these facts to the attention of the public, the story was
not picked up by other papers, either in Connecticut or in nearby New York. (The story
went unreported elsewhere even when the Courant revealed that the chairman of
Connecticuts Democratic State Committee, who ran a chain of group homes as a
profitable sideline to his legal practice, had massively defrauded the state.)
To be sure, the group home story was not entirely ignored. During the late 1980s and
early 1990s, Michael Winerip wrote a moving, if highly partisan, series of columns on the
subject for the New York Times that became the basis for his 1994 book, 9
Highland Road: Sane Living for the Mentally Ill. More recently, some attention has
been devoted to faith-based social-service empires like that controlled by former
Congressman (Rev.) Floyd Flake, as well as to the litigation arising from use of public
education and human services funds by the Ultra-Orthodox Jewish community at Kiryas Joel
in upstate New York. In addition, the local news sections of daily papers throughout the
country have reported on litigation between religious groups and zoning authorities. But
reporters have generally failed to pursue the ways in which these stories fit into a
larger pattern of fundamental institutional transformation.
The failure to see the larger significance of the increasingly frequent zoning battles
involving churcheseven when they led to landmark court decisions such as last
summers overturning of the Religious Freedom Restoration Act by the United States
Supreme Courtis a particularly telling example of the inability of the press
to grasp the significance of convergent changes in religion and public policy.
Historically, places of worship have been allowed to locate almost anywhere, free from the
restrictions (such as off-street parking requirements) imposed on other property owners,
because traditional Sabbath-day devotional activities posed minimal burdens on the
neighborhoods in which they were located and because planners assumed that most
congregations drew their members from the neighborhoods in which they were located.
Today, places of worship regardless of creed have become platforms for an astonishing
range of educational and social services. Church lounges serve as meeting places for
self-help groups. Parish houses have been converted into child daycare centers and day
schools. As social services have become more central to the ministries and finances of
congregationsmany of them urban bodies with declining
membershipsmunicipal planners have noted an alarming growth in acquisitions by
churches of adjoining properties not only to house service provision activities but also
for church-sponsored economic development activities (job training and commercial
enterprises), affordable housing, and other publicly funded initiatives.
Careful search of news databases turns up hundreds of reports of public hearings and
court fights relating to churches and other faith-based entities. But the news media have
yet to see these as symptomatic of more profound and far-reaching changes in religion and
public policy.
The failure of the media to attend to the technicalities of community-based human
services provision, subtle changes in the nature of social ministries, and the minutiae of
land-use litigation is understandable given the information infrastructure in the late
twentieth century and the scant preparation reporters receive for dealing with religion.
Still, it is surprising that when welfare reform became the battle cry of Republican
congressional revolutionaries in the mid-1990s, so little attention was given to the body
of ideas on which they were basing their programs.
Journalist/historian Marvin Olaskys Tragedy of American Compassion (1992)
and Renewing American Compassion (1995) became the Old and New Testaments of
right-wing welfare reform after receiving glowing accolades from Newt Gingrich, William
Bennett, Ariana Huffington, and other leading conservative glitterati. In these volumes,
Olasky sets forth a reinterpretation of the history of American social welfare policies
that is unabashedly rooted in a religious vision of social change, focusing on the need to
transform values and behavior rather than social conditions to break the cycle of welfare
dependency.
Had journalists discerned this religious vision and understood the degree to which it
led directly to the landmark Personal Responsibility and Work Reconciliation Act of
1996which eliminated legal obstacles to the awarding of federal human services
contracts to faith-based providers and mandated the availability of religious alternatives
in service provision ("charitable choice")the public would be in a
far better position to grasp the astonishing but largely misunderstood institutional
revolution that has taken place over the past decade.
Faith communities themselves would benefit from reporting that is informed by real
knowledge of both public policy and religion. Although elements of the religious world
have been actively involved on both sides of welfare reform, its implications remain
largely unknown to those pursuing traditional pulpit ministries, congregational and
denominational governing bodies, and people in the pews. Even as they participate in
making incremental decisions about the use of church properties, they remain generally
unaware and uninformed of how the choices they make are subtly but unmistakably altering
the nature of religious practice and the role of religion in public life.
Finally, legislators, jurists, and policy makers at every level of government urgently
need the kind of grounded and searching investigation of this unfolding story that only
first-rate journalism can provide. The majority of public decision makers, even on the
conservative side, have no real basis for judging the arguments of the special interest
groups and lobbyists who clamor for their attention. While they may believe that they are
backing policies beneficial to organized religion, because they have no clear sense of how
these are actually likely to affect a religious universe which, in its increasing
diversity and complexity, little resembles anything in their experience, their efforts
may, in the end, have quite the opposite effect.
Many clergy and laity are in fact deeply concerned about the crumbling barriers between
church and state. Looking at the disastrous consequences to secular non-profits of a
half-century of large-scale government funding, which has transformed a once voluntary
sector into a highly regulated, commercialized, quasi-governmental domain, they worry
about the ways in which such dependency may affect the freedom that American religion has
traditionally enjoyed. They worry less about a "culture of disbelief" whose
journalistic products marginalize religion than about a culture of ignorance that fails to
provide them with vitally important information about how changes in the secular world
impact on religion and vice-versa.
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