Margaret Thatcher's Sermon on the Mound: "Christianity and Wealth" Daniel S. Brown and Matthew A. Morrow
←
→
Page content transcription
If your browser does not render page correctly, please read the page content below
JCR 33 (July 2010) 33—55
Margaret Thatcher’s Sermon on the Mound: “Christianity and Wealth”
Daniel S. Brown and Matthew A. Morrow*
This article examines the rhetoric used by Margaret Thatcher in her May 21, 1988 address,
commonly referred to as her “Sermon on the Mound,” to the General Assembly of the
Church of Scotland. Officially entitled “Christianity and Wealth,” the speech served as a
digest of her convictions regarding the role of religion and faith-based precepts in the
actions of government and in the lives of those who govern. The speech represents the only
time the prime minister actively and directly linked her own personal Christian faith with
her economic and social policies. Our analysis applies Weaver’s concept of Ultimate
Terms, harnesses Burke’s notion of cluster analysis and concludes with her problematic
misapplication of a metaphor drawn from the New Testament. Key Words: Thatcher,
Church of Scotland, cluster analysis, metaphor, free market economics, British public
address
“Perhaps it would be best if I began by speaking personally as a
Christian, as well as a politician, about the way I see things.”
The Right Honourable Margaret Thatcher, May 21, 1988i
So began the dynamic Margaret Thatcher as she stood before the General
Assembly of the Church of Scotland at their annual convention in Edinburgh. Her message,
carefully crafted, was a two-pronged attempt—one more overt than the other—both to
promulgate her ideas on religion and economic policy as well as politely to combat the
separatist sentiments of the Scottish people, sentiments that had been fermenting into a
bitter brine of discontent (Johnson, 1988).
*
Daniel S. Brown (Ph.D. 1987, Louisiana State University) is Professor of Communication
Studies at Grove City College in Grove City, Pennsylvania. Matthew A. Morrow (M.B.A.
2003, University of Pittsburgh) is a Foreign Service Officer with the U.S. Department of
State. An earlier version of this paper was presented at the Southern States Communication
Association’s 2008 conference in Savannah, Georgia. Portions of this article were included in
a paper written by the second author for a rhetorical theory and criticism course taught by first
author. For their suggestions and advice, the authors thank Jason Edward Black, John Pauley,
Gary S. Smith and two anonymous reviewers. The first author may be contacted at 100
Campus Avenue, Grove City College, Grove City, PA 16127 or by email at
dsbrown@gcc.edu.DANIEL S. BROWN AND MATTHEW A. MORROW 34
Her speech, officially entitled “Christianity and Wealth,” was a digest of her
convictions regarding the role of religion and faith-based precepts in the actions of
government and in the lives of those who govern. Although her sentiments have a familiar
ring to American ears, accustomed as they are to the conservative rhetoric of the Reagan
and later the Bush presidencies in their time, Thatcher was swimming very much against
the swift current of secularization and church-state separation that was washing over the
world-wide political scene. The position that she aimed to drive home was that, regardless
of a person’s belief in the Christian religion per se, the basic precepts of the Judeo-Christian
tradition are inextricably tied to the enduring existence and proper function of the Free
State.
Despite her pious reputation as a Christian believer and her uncharacteristic
introduction of Christian scripture into her speech, Thatcher’s address to the General
Assembly met with resounding displeasure. One observer in attendance recalled years later
that “various ministers of Scotland’s largest presbyterian [sic] denomination [were] queuing
up to register their formal protests before” the prime minister even spoke (Watson, 2002).
Their concern was not that they were orthodox and she, on the other hand, had denounced
the Virgin Birth and the Physical Resurrection of Jesus; rather, “it was because they saw
themselves as the champions of the poor and her as the champion of the rich” (Watson,
2002).
Long-time political journalist Christopher Reekie (1996) dubbed Thatcher’s
sermon “the most publicised [sic] and discussed speech in many Assemblies.” His eye
witness account of the presentation highlights the controversy that accompanied the Prime
Minister to Edinburgh:
To the Assembly that day came Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, a guest of the
Lord High Commissioner. Five ministers immediately objected to her speaking but
were overruled by the Moderator, Professor James Whyte, who said the mind of
the Assembly was indicated by its applause. The minutes showed that among their
reasons, the five, plus another, thought “the Prime Minister had come to the
Assembly to use it for her own political purposes, and to preach a gospel other than
the Christian Gospel”, and she “represented a Government which has caused greatJOURNAL OF COMMUNICATION AND RELIGION 35
suffering and deep distress for many people.” Her address was hardly what one
expected from a Prime Minister, who would normally have spoken on current
events and indicated policy. (Reekie, 1996)
Scottish Socialist Party leader Tommy Sheridan (2004) characterized her policies as
promoting “hopelessness and despair as a generation were [sic] sacrificed on the alter [sic]
of a creed of greed [that] still echoes through Scotland’s communities.” Similar sentiments
were evoked by deputy Labour leader Roy Hattersley at the time of her speech to the
General Assembly (cited by DeYoung, 1988). With the benefit of hindsight, students of
history mark the speech “as symbolising [sic] the beginning of the end of Tory rule in
Scotland and fuelling the momentum of the home rule debate” (Davidson, 2008).
A full two decades later, on May 7, 2008, Radio Scotland presented a documentary
retrospective of the speech. Previewing the program, Jim Gilchrist (2008), writing in the
Scotsman, referred to the Thatcher’s “free-marketeering rant with theological trappings” as
her “memorable fit of foot-in-mouthery” that “backfired catastrophically.”
Thatcher herself was, however, apparently genuine in her desire to provide moral
justification for her economic policies as she began the third-term of her government. The
Economist, in a fittingly entitled article—Caesar talks back—began its reportage of the
speech with this harsh assessment:
For 20 centuries rulers have cited the Bible to justify everything from war, torture
and burning witches to Marxism, taxes and abstinence. Now it is the turn of
moneymaking. Goaded by the Labour party’s claims, particularly during the last
general election, that Conservative policies were immoral, the prime minister has
set out her own articles of faith. (Caesar talks back)
Critics of the Prime Minister, nonetheless, believed that her address “simply highlighted the
damaging nature of her right-wing politics” (Settle, 2008). When she quoted from the New
Testament, appealed to morality, and shared her personal testimony, “the audience listened
in silence” (Settle, 2008). Even the head of the Anglican church, England’s separate,
national church, the Archbishop of Canterbury Robert Runcie, commented on Thatcher’s
address to the Scots saying that he had “questions of making wealth and at the same time inDANIEL S. BROWN AND MATTHEW A. MORROW 36
dividing society in a way which makes the people who have fallen behind through no fault
of their own feel on the edge of things” (quoted in DeYoung, 1988).
Being the first female head of government of a major western nation, Thatcher has
always been the subject of great public scrutiny, and this scrutiny encompasses her public
speaking. In regards to this particular event, however, there is little scholarly criticism to be
found. That is not to say that the event itself is not worthy of closer examination, for the
truth is quite the contrary. The prime minister’s speech to the clergy was a painstakingly
crafted act, a beautifully composed declaration or manifesto rich in symbolic textual
undertones. The speaker had, according to some reports at the time, spoken informally on
the same topic as she appeared before smaller audiences in the weeks before she stood
before the General Assembly (DeYoung, 1988). A week after she spoke to the Assembly,
she reiterated her Christian view of political policy in a speech to large gathering of
conservative women in London (Naughtie, 1988; Webster, 1988; Wood, 1988).
The speech itself marks the only time the prime minister actively and directly
linked her own personal Christian faith with her economic and social policies. This is not to
underestimate her earlier speeches when she spoke openly about being a Christian in the
public eye as she did in 1968 to a youth group in Finchley (Thatcher, M. Speech to Christ
Church Youth Fellowship, December 15, 1963). Here she noted that the country was based
on Christian ideals and those religious ideals inform the ethical sense of a Christian member
of parliament.
Nor should her speeches on public policy and the Christian faith be overlooked.
One such address, ranked as “Key” in importance by the Margaret Thatcher Foundation, is
her speech to the Bow Group at the Royal Commonwealth Society (Thatcher, M. The
ideals of an open society, May 6, 1978). Part history lesson and part philosophy lesson, the
future prime minister concluded:
We cannot claim that our society is entirely a Christian one. Nor indeed would we
claim that Christian societies are necessarily always good. . . . Most of us whether
Christian or not are thus inspired directly or indirectly by the absolute value which
Christianity. . . gives to the individual soul, . . . to man’s innate responsibility forJOURNAL OF COMMUNICATION AND RELIGION 37
his own actions and omissions, and his duty to treat other men as he would have
them treat him.
Standing before the annual gathering of the leaders of Scottish religious life in 1988,
Thatcher testified of her personal faith while serving as prime minister. How did Thatcher
so soundly miss the mark with her audience comprised of pastors, theologians and lay-
leaders who might predictably have found it refreshing and encouraging to hear an
international political figure invoke the name and spirit of their faith? In this essay we argue
that Margaret Thatcher made two strategic mis-steps in the framing of her argument in an
arena she surely knew would shine a unique spotlight on the intersection of her personal
Christian faith and her public economic policies. We accomplish our analysis by examining
both the speaker’s use of Ultimate Terms and then the speaker’s problematic metaphor
drawn from a New Testament narrative. Prior to that analysis, we turn to an overview of the
conditions that complemented Thatcher’s so-called Sermon on the Mound.
The Speaker and Historical setting
As prime minister of Great Britain, the dynamic Margaret Thatcher was the self-
proclaimed enemy of the “consensus politics” that plagued successive British governments,
both Labour and Conservative, from the 1950’s through the 1970’s. From her triumphant
toppling of James Callahan’s beleaguered Labour administration in 1979 to her final
address to the House of Commons some 11 years later, Thatcher made it known to all that
she was not interested in bartering away her deeply held (though not immediately popular)
views and convictions in the interest of watered-down consensus. Armed with equal
measures of extraordinary foresight and steely determination, the “Iron Lady” ushered in a
new philosophy of British government represented by the term “Thatcherism,” which we
note is the only time a prime minister’s name has morphed into a noun designating his or
her political policies.ii She, in essence, dropped her leaden fist on the ugly head of Great
Britain’s postwar socialist movement and paved the way for sweeping economic and social
reforms that put the UK back on track after decades of indecisiveness and mismanagement.
Historically, Thatcherism proved to be a success for Britain as a whole (Moore, 1992), but
it was devastating for the outlying countries of Wales and Scotland (Rachman, 2000). TheDANIEL S. BROWN AND MATTHEW A. MORROW 38
policies of her government were ultimately praised for their effectiveness, yet the factory
culture and blue-collar communities of Scotland continued for decades to reel from the
consequences of these same policies (Phillips, 1992).
It is no secret that, throughout her career, the underlying determination and
practical sensibilities she displayed came from the staunchly Christian, middle-class
upbringing she received while living in an apartment atop her family’s small grocery store
in Grantham, England. One would be hard pressed not to find Thatcher’s bourgeois roots
and strong faith as crucial components of her character, as well as valuable tools utilized by
her in shaping and advocating legislation. She was born into a house that was creative,
down-to-earth, and religious (Thompson, 1980). In this environment, Margaret Roberts
came of age under the guidance and tutelage of her parents, Alfred and Beatrice. In many
respects, “Maggie” idolized her father, sharing his love of literature, music and poetry
(Thompson, 1980). At 11, Margaret won a scholarship to Kesteven and Grantham Girls
School. When her father was elected mayor of Grantham a few years later, her latent
interest in politics began to blossom. It was not, however, the study of government, but
rather the study of the sciences to which she felt called, and so when she was offered a
scholarship opportunity to study chemistry at Somerville College during the war, Margaret
was off to Oxford University (Thompson, 1980).
In addition to keeping up with her academics, Margaret Roberts used her time at
the University to sustain and nurture her myriad talents. Out of her love of music, she
joined the Bach choir, out of her steadfast faith, she participated in the Methodist Study
Group and out of her growing political interests, she joined the Oxford University
Conservative Association, eventually becoming its Chairman (Thompson, 1980). She later
attributed her political awakening to the time she spent with the Oxford Association, though
she asserts that her core views were always unwaveringly conservative: She added,
however, that she became much more firm, more vocal, in her views during her University
years, learning that, personal virtue is no substitute for political hardheadedness
(Thompson, 1980). Becoming enmeshed in the political goings-on in WWII Britain
compelled her to pursue a second degree in law. At the conclusion of her formal schooling
in 1947, she went to work as a research chemist, yet her political interests impressed theJOURNAL OF COMMUNICATION AND RELIGION 39
local Conservative party, and she was called upon twice in the subsequent four years to
serve as the Tory candidate for her district in Dartford, Kent. While she was defeated in
both of these attempts, her life was far from unhappy during that period. After the first
campaign, she met wealthy businessman Denis Thatcher, and they were married a year
later. In the summer of 1953 she gave birth to twins, and that following winter she passed
her bar examination and became a full-time tax barrister. Thatcher remained a favorite of
the Conservatives despite her earlier electoral defeats, and in 1959 she was selected to run
for the Tory seat in Finchley. She won overwhelmingly, and quickly immersed herself in
her new position (Thompson, 1980).
In 1975, with more than 15 years in Parliament, having championed her causes in
both the government and the opposition, Margaret Thatcher became the first woman
selected to lead a major political party in Britain or, for that matter, all of Europe. Under her
leadership, the Conservative opposition watched as James Callaghan’s Labour
administration alienated its base of public workers and unions and created unprecedented
havoc. In January 1979 ambulance drivers, sewerage workers, gravediggers and union
laborers went on strike across the United Kingdom. The dead were not buried. Hospitals
were picketed. Public transportation was halted. (Winter of discontent 1978-9).
Consequently, Thatcher was able to whisk the Tories into power by huge margins
(Congdon, 1993). On May 3, 1979, Margaret Thatcher became the first woman prime
minister on the European continent. It was clear that Thatcher had a mandate for change,
and the era of Thatcherism was born.
Thatcher never forgot the life lessons of her youth—lessons she carried from atop
the Grantham grocery to Oxford and ultimately to Number 10 Downing Street. She brought
with her a “moral agenda [that] could have been written on a sampler” according to Peter
Jenkins (1988): “The individual owed responsibility to self, family, firm, community,
country, God” (p. 66). She waged unrelenting war against the advance of socialism and, as
a classic conservative, tied economic regeneration to morality.
Again, her speech to the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland is
remarkable because it is the only public pronouncement that she had made that explicitlyDANIEL S. BROWN AND MATTHEW A. MORROW 40
linked her personal Christian faith with her economic and public policies. It was not the first
time the assembly heard her explain as she did that day in Scotland that:
The Christian religion—which, of course, embodies many of the great spiritual and
moral truths of Judaism—is a fundamental part of our national heritage. For
centuries it has been our very lifeblood. Indeed we are a nation whose ideals are
founded on the Bible. Also, it is quite impossible to understand our history or
literature without grasping this fact.
It is that understanding of “our history,” as she termed it, that most complicates our
understanding of Thatcher’s rhetorical failure on this occasion. A popular, yet abridged,
history lesson would note that, in addition to sharing the same island, England and Scotland
are united by the fact that in 1568 Mary, Queen of Scots, fled her homeland following the
massive revolt there. She sought refuge with her cousin Elizabeth I. Elizabeth promptly
locked Mary away in an isolated tower for 25-odd years. More than a century later, the
1707 Act of Union abolished Scotland’s parliament, but left it with its own legal structure,
education system and nation church (Phillips, 1992, p. 2). The two nations were officially
conjoined as they were to Wales and Ireland to form the United Kingdom of Great Britain.
As time passed, what seemed like a logical union eroded into the stormy tension that has
characterized their relationship for at least the last 50 years. While Scotland benefited
greatly from being a part of the United Kingdom during the rise of colonization of the
British Empire, later history has seen a rise in Scottish nationalism that chaffs at the
political ties to England (Rachman, 2000).
Scotland’s disaffection deepened during the 1980’s when Prime Minister
Thatcher’s brand of radical conservatism and its accompanying policies were strongly
resisted in the region because of the wide-spread unemployment and the collapsing of the
welfare state that had sustained the rather wretched regional Scottish economy. Populous
southern England gave Thatcher’s Tories three successive majority governments. In
Scotland, however, the majority Tories held only 10 of the 72 parliamentary seats,
“increasing the feeling of many Scots that they, like Roman Catholics in Northern Ireland
and nationalist in Wales, [were] ruled by a foreign government in London” (Phillips, 1992,
p. 2).JOURNAL OF COMMUNICATION AND RELIGION 41
In particular, it was Thatcher’s anti-union, privatization-at-all-costs attitude that
ruffled their kilts to distraction. In just one of many examples, 10,000 jobs were lost in
Ravenscraig, near Glasgow, when the London-based British Steel PLC closed its huge steel
complex there. The decision that so deeply and frightfully affected the daily lives and future
hope of Scots was made outside of Scotland. In the days that followed the closure, a
Scottish opinion poll showed that latent feelings of nationalism among Scots had spiked to
an unprecedented 50 percent, “and writers and singers, (enlisting the help of well-known
independence supporter Sean Connery), formed a group called Artists for an Independent
Scotland to press for change” (Phillips, 1992, p. 3). In some Scottish municipalities
unemployment was rampant and many blamed Thatcherism for their circumstance. Halsall
(1988) reported that “one-third of the [Scottish] population [was jobless]. In Easterhouse, a
post-war community east of Glasgow, that proportion doubles. There are places where 60
percent of the people can describe the anguish of long-term unemployment.”
The Church of Scotland, at the time of Thatcher’s address, served the country as
the political representative for the region. The people lobbied the Church and the Church, in
turn, lobbied the British parliament.iii It was, therefore, with urgency that members of the
General Assembly faced the prime minister, for collectively they represented those who
had innocently suffered the most from Thatcherism. Of course, there were those with a
more cynical take on things, like the social commentator who described the region as being
Thatcher’s “northern testing ground.” Through it all, “Thatcher was reviled with particular
enthusiasm in Scotland because,” according to Alistair Moffat (1999), “she was seen as
foreign, the sort of hectoring autocrat to be found in other, less democratic consensual
countries (p. 1).
Despite all of the ill-will and overwhelming lack of support, in 1988, three-quarters
of the way through her tenure as prime minister, Thatcher made the trip “up north” to
address the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland. The conference is held annually
at the stark, imposing castle-like compound known as “The Mound,” for it sits above the
town of Edinburgh on a steep hill, presiding ominously from its lofty perch. This
convenient moniker served the press well as they reported on the occasion, memorializing
the speech derogatorily forever as the “Sermon on the Mound.”DANIEL S. BROWN AND MATTHEW A. MORROW 42
It is worth noting, however, the strategic significance of the location. The
topographical setting of the assembly house puts it very much in control of the rhetorical
scene. Approaching “The Mound” requires an individual to scale the steep drive just to
reach the front gate. Then, stairs need to be climbed to reach the expansive Assembly Hall,
a grand chamber that mimics the building in its magnitude. Arranged in an amphitheatre
style, the narrow but tall room has an austere character. The lectern looks out and up toward
the tiers of polished wood seats and desks that soar sharply toward the dark, wood-beamed
ceiling. It is easy to imagine Thatcher in these surroundings, speaking to the 150 assembled
ministers and lay-leaders hovering over her. There can be no doubt about the strategic and
symbolic implications of Thatcher speaking in such a venue. In that setting she was clearly
in a submissive position to the assembly, and thus she was positioned to deliver her
message persuading them to change. It would seem quite a departure for the “Iron Lady,”
who normally wielded control of her audience. At the Assembly Hall, Thatcher was forced
to shelve her brazen, tight-fisted authoritarian approach for a more humble one.
The Essence of the Argument
In crafting her speech to the assembly of the Church, Thatcher called a powerful
resource into service: the Bible. Though clearly this is not a homily, Thatcher’s message
was sprinkled with biblical references and allusions designed to form a cohesive apologetic
for a free society rooted in faith. It would be her use of the Scriptures that would prove to be
her rhetorical downfall.
She opened her speech, following the initial pleasantries required on the occasion,
“speaking personally as a Christian, as well as a politician, about the way [she] sees things.”
Secretary Rifkind first reported in 2008 that Thatcher was speaking personally in the sense
that she had drafted the manuscript herself without, he explained, the slightest “interference
from advisers” (Davidson, 2008). Thatcher’s wordsmithing alone produced the manuscript.
Interestingly, she refrained from immediately launching into her life story and
making herself and her faith the overarching theme of the oration. Had she done so, she
would have most surely limited the scope and relevance of the message, giving it the tenor
of a personal testimony rather than that of a State message. In fact, though she made ampleJOURNAL OF COMMUNICATION AND RELIGION 43
use of her own faith-based anecdotes gathered throughout her life, the greater framework of
the speech was grounded in the notion that the British people as a whole, even those who
are not explicitly Christian, benefit greatly from a society based on the fundamental
teachings of the Judeo-Christian faiths, and the free democratic state that is its necessary
corollary. On this issue Thatcher said:
In Scotland, as in England, there is an historic connection expressed in our laws
between Church and State. . . . [T]he arrangements in both countries are designed
to give symbolic expression to the same crucial truth: that the Christian religion—
which, of course, embodies many of the great spiritual and moral truths of
Judaism—is a fundamental part of our national heritage.
Her next comments were met with applause from her listeners: “And I believe it is the wish
of the overwhelming majority of people that this heritage should be preserved and
fostered.”
The blessings of the Judeo-Christian foundation are many and this topic, carried
throughout her speech, encapsulated in it the notion of the blessings of individual
responsibility. Drawing from the Ten Commandments, she showed how the laws of
modern free states are inextricably tied to the personal freedoms granted to all humanity by
the Lord. Beginning from this larger ideological scale, Thatcher could argue with certainty,
“that any set of social and economic arrangement which is not founded on the acceptance
of individual responsibility will do nothing but harm.”
At approximately the half-way point of the speech, the prime minister took her
remarks on freedom and tied them directly to the matter of personal responsibility. By
doing so in general terms, she was able covertly to address the literal matter about which
she needed to speak with this assembly: Scotland’s anti-conservative, leftist leanings. In the
second half of the address, she made her political case for conservatism, enveloping it in
heavily religious rhetoric that she no doubt hoped the clergy would be unable to resist. “The
truths of the Judaic-Christian tradition”—which explicitly included individual responsibility
for the well-being of ourselves and our neighbors—”are infinitely precious, not only, as I
believe, because they are true,” Thatcher said, “but also because they provide the moralDANIEL S. BROWN AND MATTHEW A. MORROW 44
impulse which alone can lead to that peace, in the true meaning of the word, for which we
all long.”
Thatcher used an old staple of political rhetoric to try to corner her “opponents”
into an agreement with her position because of who they were individually. By tying her
message of laizzez-faire economics and minimum government intervention to Christian
fundamentals, she created a challenge to her listeners to disagree with her: To be against
Thatcherism is to be against the Ten Commandments, peace “in the true meaning of the
word,” and the very foundations of the clerical calling and profession.
Thatcher referred at length to the Golden Rule—to love our neighbors as
ourselves. In the same breath, however, she quickly followed with a reminder from St.
Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians that, “If a man will not work, he shall not eat.” It was as if
she were, in those remarks, creating the idea of “compassionate conservatism” long before
it became a hallmark catchphrase of the Bush administration. At the root of her argument
were three notions: that humans have “the fundamental right to choose between good and
evil,” that “we are expected to use all our own power of thought and judgement in
exercising that choice,” and that “Our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God,” provided the
ultimate example for us to follow when he “chose to lay down His life.”
She continued to discuss the role of the individual and the family versus the role of
the State in everyday life. It is the State’s duty, she said, to see that no citizen is left without
“sustenance, help or opportunity,” yet the State “must never become so great that it
effectively removed personal responsibility.”
Perhaps her most passionate feelings surfaced in her remarks on the role of the
Christian tradition in education, a topic that occupied almost a quarter of her speech:
I believe politicians must see that religious education has a proper place in the
school curriculum. The Christian religion . . . has been our very lifeblood. Indeed
we are a nation whose ideals are founded on the Bible. Also, it is quite impossible
to understand our history or literature without grasping this fact, and that’s the
strong practical case for ensuring that children at school are given adequate
instruction in the part which the Judaic-Christian tradition has played in moulding
our laws, manners and institutions. How can you make sense of Shakespeare andJOURNAL OF COMMUNICATION AND RELIGION 45
Sir Walter Scott, or of the constitutional conflicts of the 17th century in both
Scotland and England, without some such fundamental knowledge?
Thatcher used the theme of education to focus on the idea of reshaping societal values and
embedding in individuals a lifelong moral compass to provide them with the unique
guidance that comes from following the ways of God. As she eloquently put it, “if you try
to take the fruits of Christianity without its roots, the fruits will wither. And they will not
come again unless you nurture the roots.”
Despite the richness of her overt message through the speech, the true wealth of
the speech lay in her closing thoughts. As she looked out upon the rows of skeptical
assembled church leaders, she plainly informed them, “We parliamentarians can legislate
for the rule of law. You the church can teach the life of faith.” Thatcher, very clearly then,
was extending her hand to the clergy, praising them for their wisdom and inviting the
church to assume what in her view was its rightful place as an essential cornerstone of
society. That, in and of itself, was not overly remarkable, especially when the source is
considered. What was remarkable, however, was Thatcher’s use of the message as a means
to achieve an unrelated end with her audience. Her words on religion, though arguably
valid, were not selected merely because she wanted to talk about religion that day. Rather,
her main goal in speaking to the assembly was to urge the members—not so much as
clergy, but as Scots—to feel included and to be active in the conservative course of British
society. Thatcher used her faith-based message as a conduit through which she could reach
the powerful, political opinion leaders of Scottish society. She was extending an olive
branch not just to a group of holy men and women who happened to be Scottish, but also to
the Scottish people as a whole.
The Analysis
Prime Minister Thatcher’s speech to the assembly was a carefully, deliberately
designed apologetic for Western culture and free-market ideals as seen through the
spectrum of Christianity. It is regarded, nonetheless, in large part as a failed attempt to
garner support and move her listeners toward her viewpoint. Critical response from the
press and from public servants was nearly universally negative at the time. MalcolmDANIEL S. BROWN AND MATTHEW A. MORROW 46
Rifkind, Secretary of State for Scotland at the time of her speech, observed to The Times
that “there was nothing particularly controversial in it [the address]. She could have read
out extracts from the telephone directory and people would have objected” (Davidson,
2008).
Because of its significance as a strategic rhetorical act richly deserving intensive
analysis, we focus the remainder of this essay on Thatcher’s employment of Ultimate
Terms and her problematic misapplication of a metaphor drawn from the New Testament.
One of the lenses through which Thatcher’s speech can most thoroughly be
understood is that of Richard Weaver’s (1953) ultimate terms, or as they are more
commonly known, “god terms” and “devil terms.” Ultimate terms are those rhetorical
absolutes that, writes Weaver (1953, p. 213), help humans know their place “in the
ideological cosmos in order to coordinate [their] activities.” He further explained that “god
terms” are those rhetorical absolutes below which “all other expressions are ranked as
subordinate.” Listeners understand the import of the “god term” as it likely conjures a
willingness to sacrifice life or goods, according to Weaver (1953). On the other hand, a
“devil term” is the designation given to ultimate terms that invoke revulsion or disgust
when present.
It is no surprise that this particular example of Thatcher’s rhetoric lends itself to
review through ultimate terms. It requires little deconstruction to discover that the prime
minister’s speech was highly polarized and hinged on the development of absolutes to
convey her either-or dichotomy, her “right and wrong” line of argument. In examining the
text, we find that Thatcher’s ideas congregated around two ultimate terms: “Christianity”
(the god term) and “politics” or “politician” (the devil term).
It is important to focus again on the beginning of her speech where the prime
minister declared that she would be “speaking personally as a Christian, as well as a
politician, about the way [she saw] things. From her opening statement, then, she drew a
toe-line in the sand, clearly declaring the side on which she would be standing as well as
establishing the god-term. She went on to discuss an article she had read that put forth the
notion that “Christianity is about spiritual redemption, not social reform.” With that, the
target was in sight, and Thatcher set out in the remainder of her speech to disprove thatJOURNAL OF COMMUNICATION AND RELIGION 47
assertion as being “too polarised and [giving] the impression that the two are quite
separate.”
“Politics,” her “devil term,” stands for everything that is against the Christian faith.
It may be better to think of a more broad-reaching “devil-idea” that encompassed the chain-
linkiv notion that secularism is explicitly tied to human-centeredness, which in turn is tied to
the elevation of the State as the highest power, which in turn forms the foundation of
socialism. Just as “Christianity,” by Thatcher’s own explanation, is meant to symbolize the
moral truths of the Judeo-Christian tradition, so she uses “politics” to stand for “socialism”
and the “welfare state.”
The bulk of Thatcher’s speech combated what she believed to be the false idea that
Christianity does not play a part in social reform. Structurally, she did nothing more than
identify her concerns—social welfare, poverty, charity, education and democracy—and
systematically show how the societal approach toward each had strayed from the path of
basic Christian wisdom and into the quagmire of dysfunction and desperation characteristic
of a socialistic society. Quotations from the Bible and observations of conservative
sensibilities (such as “Intervention by the State must never become so great that it
effectively removes personal responsibility”) provided support for Thatcher’s “god term.”
Similarly, she launched a biblical assault when she said that “we are all responsible for our
own actions. We cannot blame society if we disobey the law. We simply cannot delegate
the exercise of mercy and generosity to others.”
More blatantly, Thatcher stated that “Timothy was warned by St. Paul that anyone
who neglects to provide for his own house (meaning his own family) has disowned the
faith and is ‘worse than an infidel’.” Furthermore, “political structures, state institutions,
collective ideals . . . are not enough,” and “politicians and other secular powers” are limited
because they cannot “create” the “good in people [or] fight down the bad.” With these
words, she positioned the socialistic political policies that were the popular status quo in
Scotland as “devil terms.”
Our analysis of “Ultimate terms” may be taken a step farther. Burke’s (1954)
method of cluster analysis is, in theory, quite similar to Weaver’s “ultimate terms.”
Whereas Weaver is concerned with two central, opposing themes, Burke’s clusters allowsDANIEL S. BROWN AND MATTHEW A. MORROW 48
for any number of gathered themes, that is words or ideas that serve as beacons for
subordinating ideas on particular matters.
For instance, the “god term” of Christianity is supported by several solid ideas,
namely “choice,” “family,” and interestingly, “neighbors.” The word “choice” permeated
Thatcher’s message appearing multiple times in proximity to “Christianity.” It emerged
first when she spoke of Christ, for she reminded, “no one took away the life of Jesus. He
chose to lay it down.” She added that “man has been endowed by God with the
fundamental right to choose between good and evil.” The essence of choice also surfaced in
remarks such as, “the spiritual dimension [of accumulating wealth] comes in deciding what
one does with the wealth.” Here, the element of choice (literally “deciding” here) was
grafted from the aforementioned biblical context and transplanted into Thatcher’s remarks
supporting capitalism, clearly associating conservative economic practices with her god-
term.
“Family” was a second favored term of the prime minister’s. She proclaimed, “the
basic ties of the family . . . are at the heart of our society and are the very nursery of civic
nature.” In addition, “it is on the family that we in government build our own policies for
welfare, education and [health]care.” Here Thatcher was most skillful in constructing her
ideas around her god-term for the purpose of moving her audience, for she took the
“family” in its deepest Christian sense and tied it to social issues, in particular welfare and
public healthcare, two bellwether issues of liberal political platforms. Essentially, she used
“family” as an anchor as she waded into waters that were largely uncharted by
conservatives. Again, her clear goal was to draw-in the assembled women and men with
the very faith-friendly notion of family and use it to change their perceptions about social
issues that were normally only treated from a liberal viewpoint.
Thatcher’s third concept to cluster around “Christianity” dealt with the idea of
“neighbors.” With conservatives stereotypically portrayed as greedy, uncaring, self-
centered individuals, the issue of neighbors, often extrapolated by the left to mean all of
society in general, and concern for neighbors were not usually associated with
Conservatives. Yet, it is tied here to Christianity and the Jewish tradition, as is made evident
in the Ten Commandments. As a result, Thatcher was able to inject her thoughts aboutJOURNAL OF COMMUNICATION AND RELIGION 49
neighborly love not because the state demands it, but because their faith requires their
altruistic sense of goodness. It was likely that Thatcher played this angle both legitimately
to dispel the general assembly’s preconceived notions of her and her party as well as to give
her overall message a sense of palatability.
In addition to surveying “Ultimate Terms,” used by Thatcher, a close examination
of a complex, biblical metaphor informs our understanding of how her rhetoric functioned,
or rather failed to function, in this instance. At the approximate half-way point of her
address, the prime minister focused on the Tenth Commandment: Thou shall not covet.
Here she noted that:
Making money and owning things could become selfish activities. But it is not the
creation of wealth that is wrong but the love of money for its own sake. The
spiritual dimension comes in deciding what one does with the wealth. How could
we respond to the many calls for help, or invest for the future, or support the
wonderful artists and craftsmen whose work also glorifies God, unless we had first
worked hard and used our talents to create the necessary wealth?
Here Thatcher immediately follows with a most perplexing interjection: “And remember
the woman with the alabaster jar of ointment.”
How we read this metaphor, which features the only female character of the prime
minister’s speech, is problematic. What could this possibly mean in the context of creating
wealth and choosing, then, what to do with it? Why does the Iron Lady thus honor the
woman with the jar of ointment?
The allusion is to a biblical narrative contained in three of the four Gospel
accounts.v Each account appears near the end of Jesus’ ministry, just prior to the Last
Supper. While having dinner in a home, a woman with an alabaster jar of expensive
perfume anointed Jesus, either his head or his feet (depending upon the Gospel account), in
a fashion that honored him as one preparing to die. All of the accounts contain this
complaint that was voiced by the disciples who were present: “Why wasn’t this perfume
sold and the money given to the poor? It is worth a year’s wages,” wrote St. John. St.
Matthew’s account includes this inquiry: “Why this waste?” John’s account puts these
complaints in the mouth of Judas, “who was later to betray him.” Jesus’ response in each ofDANIEL S. BROWN AND MATTHEW A. MORROW 50
the Gospel narratives is to cite the Hebrew Scriptures, which were presumably well known
to his disciples, if not also others, who were gathered: “She has done a beautiful thing to
me,” Matthew recorded. “The poor you will always have with you, but you will not always
have me.”
Jesus’ response to the appalled disciples was “The poor you will always have with
you,” a direct quotation from the Pentateuch (Deuteronomy 15:11), which continues with
“Therefore I command you to be open-handed toward your brothers and toward the poor
and needy in your land.” The disciples were, perhaps, feigning indignation about the
squandered funds that could potentially be used to feed the poor and clothe the needy.
Jesus, in essence, responded that the woman’s pure act of worship and honor was more
appropriate and timely than their unclear and vague devices.
The Discussion
We come now to consider why Margaret Thatcher’s singular public attempt
verbally to link her personal faith with her party’s public policy fell short. How did she, in
the end, in the words of Archbishop Runcie, make “the people who have fallen behind
through no fault of their own feel on the edge of things”? The answer can be found at least
in part in the confusing use of Ultimate Terms that Thatcher introduced into her speech. If
“Christianity” represented the ultimate good and “politics” represented the ultimate evil,
how might she have expected her listeners to respond to her “speaking personally as a
Christian, as well as a politician”? If the Church’s “success matters greatly—as much to the
temporal as to the spiritual welfare of the nation,” as she said, what does a politician, even if
she is the prime minister, have to offer? Much wiser she would have been to insinuate a
different symbol as her devil-term: communalism and secularism come to mind as
possibilities.
By positioning herself as a representative of both “Christianity” and of “politics,”
Thatcher created a rhetorical no-win situation for herself. She did, perhaps, speculate that
she was identifying herself with the members of her austere audience by speaking of her
personal faith. In fact, she sullied her statement of personal faith by linking herself
simultaneously with the Ultimate evil of the political sphere. Her duty to act for socialJOURNAL OF COMMUNICATION AND RELIGION 51
reform “comes not from any secular legislation passed by Parliament, but from being a
Christian.” Yet, here she was, the parliamentary leader of the United Kingdom who had
superintended over the apparent plummet of the Scottish economy.
Thus we learn that Weaver’s Ultimate Terms serve the critic well. Identifying and
applying Weaver’s concept provides insight and opens the door to understanding why, at
least in part, Thatcher’s address was roundly criticized. Simply, Thatcher failed to keep her
Ultimate Terms—Christianity and politics—at a rhetorical distance from each other. Her
choice to merge the two terms as she did, to represent herself as the personification of both
Ultimate Terms, no doubt added to the rhetorical tension rather than alleviating it.
In the matter of “the woman with the alabaster jar of ointment,” we are faced with
a more complex task. There are several meanings that could be attached to this metaphor.
The prime minister may be calling for financial support for “artists . . . whose work . . .
glorifies God.” Then again, if we take her larger context at face value, we encounter the
principle that “it is not the creation of wealth that is wrong,” but it would be wrong not to
subsidize the Christian church and its message. Of course, the pastors, elders and deacons
to whom she spoke were familiar with the Scriptural metaphor she utilized. Their
understanding of Thatcher’s rhetorical choice must have functioned as a polite, but very
public rebuke. She, the woman at the center of “The Mound,” was the woman with the
alabaster jar. She was doing God’s work by honoring and worshipping him. Application of
biblical truth as she interpreted it trumped the others’ concerns for the poor. Jesus’
injunction to his listeners also applied to those finger-waggers who queued up to question
the prime minister: In the words of St. Mark, “The poor you will always have with you, and
you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have me. She did what she
could.” Herein lies an unarticulated, but palpable slight.
Many years have passed since Samuel Johnson quipped that “a woman preaching
is like a dog’s walking on his hind legs. It is not done well; but you are surprised to find it
done at all.” Quite obviously, he never encountered the religious rhetoric of Margaret
Thatcher. While her address to the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland was not a
sermon in the technical sense, her use of scripture lessons served a homiletic function to
establish the urgency she believed was needed for Western nations to reach into their pastsDANIEL S. BROWN AND MATTHEW A. MORROW 52 and dust off the Judeo-Christian principles that had fallen to the wayside since the beginning of the 20th century. Thatcher stood firm in her convictions that God, morality, and the lessons of faith are the essential, immutable cornerstones in the foundation of the free state. Nonetheless, the effect of her sermon was considerably less than a resounding success because of her misuse of Ultimate Terms and an unfortunate choice of biblical metaphor.
JOURNAL OF COMMUNICATION AND RELIGION 53
Works Cited
Bulpitt, J. (2003). Thatcherism. In The concise Oxford dictionary of politics. Oxford:
Oxford University Press.
Burke, K. (1954). Fact, inference, and proof in the analysis of literary symbolism. In L.
Bryson, et al. (Eds.) Symbols and values (pp. 283-306). New York: Harper.
Caesar talks back. (1988, May). [Electronic version]. The Economist.
Congdon, T. (1993, December 27). Did Thatcherism matter? National Review, 45, 49-52.
Davidson, L. (2008, May 17). Brown to deliver his own Sermon on the Mound. The Times
(London), 9.
DeYoung, K. (1988, May 25). Thatcher sparks religious debate: Speech equating Tory
policies with Christian virtue criticized. The Washington Post, A section.
Gilchrist, J. (2008, May 3). Radio. The Scotsman, Critique Edition, 23.
Halsall, M. (1988, August 19). Frontiers: Easterhouse: Where the jobless live in despair.
The Guardian (London), n.p.
Jenkins, P. (1988). Mrs. Thatcher’s Revolution: The Ending of the Socialist Era.
Cambridge: Harvard University Press.
Johnson, M. (1988, May 28). Bible-quoting Thatcher stirs furious debate. Associated Press
News Service, A.M. cycle.
McGinty, S. & Brown, C. (2007, May 26). General Assembly 2007: Kirk once spoke in a
voice of thunder: Does it no longer know what to say? The Scotsman, p. 14.
Moffat, A. (1999, June 18). The midwife of devolution. New Statesman, 35, 1.
Moore, J. (1992, January-February). British privatization: Taking capitalism to the people.
Harvard Business Review, 115-124.
Naughtie, J. (1988, May 26). PM enforces responsibility line. The Guardian
(London), n.p.
Phillips, A. (1992, March 16). Scotland’s separatist aims. Maclean’s, 26, 3.
Rachman, G. (2000). The disunited kingdom. The Washington Quarterly, 23:2, 25-34.
Reekie, C. (1996, May 17). How the Duke made the Kirk sit up. The Herald (Glasgow),
17.
Settle, M. (2008, May 16). Sermon on the Mound revisited: Brown to address Assembly.
The Herald, Final Edition (Glasgow), 1.DANIEL S. BROWN AND MATTHEW A. MORROW 54
Sheridan, T. (2004, May 4). Evaluating Thatcher’s legacy. BBC News 24. Retrieved August
1, 2007, from http://news.bcc.co.uk
Thompson, G.M. (1980). The Prime Ministers. New York, New York: Morrow.
Watson, R. (2002). The church of socialism. Retrieved July 20, 2007, from
http://www. lewrockwell.com
Weaver, R. (1953). The Ethics of Rhetoric. South Bend, Indiana: Regenery.
Webster, P. (1988, May 25). Thatcher fury over Kinnock Bible quote; Leaders battle
on morality. The Times (London), n.p.
Winter of discontent 1978-9: 'We struck because Labour betrayed us.' (2002, January 26).
Socialist Worker Online. Retrieved September 10, 2007, from
www.socialistworker.co.uk/art.php?id=11511
Wood, N. (1988, May 23). Hurd joins in Tory drive on moral debate; Thatcher returning to
the attack this week. The Times (London), n.p.JOURNAL OF COMMUNICATION AND RELIGION 55 Endnotes 1. References to the prime minister’s speech text in this paper are taken from the archives of the Margaret Thatcher Foundation. www.margaretthatcher.org. The text of this speech, in turn, was transcribed from the BBC Sound Archive. In many reprints of this speech text, Thatcher’s prepared remarks, rather than her remarks-as- delivered, are found. The prime minister’s office distributed her manuscript in the form of a press release prior to the event. The Foundation’s manuscript differs from the prepared remarks only in the ending of the speech during which Thatcher seems to have departed from her prepared manuscript and spoken extemporaneously. 2. The term “Thatcherism” was coined by the British media before the Conservative Party created a government. There are different applications of the term, but in general we take it to encompass the three themes that Jim Bulpitt (2003) calls a “minimalist definition.” Thatcherism is used to describe the accomplishments of the Conservative governments between 1979 and 1990 when Margaret Thatcher served as party leader, and, therefore as prime minister. Second, the term implies the “heavy ideological or doctrinal base” that supported the Conservative’s policies. Third, the term suggests that all the Conservative governments during this time period were dominated by the party leader. 3. This political arrangement changed in 1999 when the Church’s political strength was greatly mitigated by the formation of the Scottish National Parliament. Labour and the Liberal Democrats formed a coalition government that represented the people and ultimately enhanced state support of education and care for the elderly. Home Rule continues to devalue the role and function of the national church (McGinty & Brown, 2007). 4. The imagery of a chain-link is also borrowed from Weaver (1953) 5. The narrative, with slight variations, is found in Matthew 26:6-16, Mark 14:3-10 and John 12:1-10. Luke 7:37-39 contains an account that most commentators append to the story of the woman with the jar of oil. All scripture references and quotations are from The Holy Bible, New International Version, © 1984 by International Bible Society
Copyright of Journal of Communication & Religion is the property of Religious Communication Association and its content may not be copied or emailed to multiple sites or posted to a listserv without the copyright holder's express written permission. However, users may print, download, or email articles for individual use.
You can also read
