The Struggle for Nicaragua's Soul

SINCE THE ASCENDANCY OF JOHN PAUL II TO THE PAPACY, numerous battles have been fought between Rome and local Catholic churches that object to the pope's attempts to roll back the reforms begun by the Second Vatican Council in the 1960s. Many churches have suffered casualties, including those in the United States and Brazil, among the most powerful in the Catholic world.

But perhaps the most tragic case is Nicaragua, where religion has become another source of division in an already polarized nation. Instead of providing solace during a time of war and great suffering, the Catholic--and Protestant--churches have wasted their energies in persecuting members who do not conform to the leadership's ideological convictions, particularly as regards the contra war. As has frequently occurred in the past, when churches have allowed themselves to become political tools, politics has distorted the Christian message.

There are no winners in the Nicaraguan story, for--as pointed out by a U.S. missionary with long experience in the country--the mass of the people are so confused by the bitter struggles between anti-government bishops and clergy and pro-government priests and nuns that they "don't know to whom to give their loyalties anymore."

While the contras are (and will be) a lost cause, the outcome of the religious conflict is less certain. Some high-ranking Sandinista officials believe it could cause the government more damage than the contras ever inflicted, because it involves churches that affect Nicaraguan attitudes toward the Sandinistas and the government's image abroad.

On one side are the government and its supporters in the Catholic and Protestant churches; on the other, the Catholic hierarchy and the fundamentalist evangelical churches. Both sides have strong backing in the United States, Latin America, and Europe.

Because of the deep religiosity of the Nicaraguan people, the issue outweighs many others, including freedom of the press. The average Nicaraguan does not read a newspaper, whereas the majority feels a need for God. Christianity is as deeply embedded in the culture as Sandinismo; consequently God's approval is crucial to the revolution, at least in this first stage.

Fear that such approval would not be needed in the future was at the root of the conflict between the government and the churches. Convinced that Nicaragua was headed toward a Marxist dictatorship, the Sandinistas' religious opponents, led by Managua's Cardinal Miguel Obando y Bravo, fought the government and its religious supporters at every turn, even to the point of supporting the contras. The government retaliated by severely harassing these churches and, in some cases, persecuting their pastors.

On one level the conflict was over politics--for example, whether the Sandinistas should negotiate with the contras. But the political questions were part of a larger religious controversy as to how faith should be interpreted and who should run the churches.

The most important religious players in the dispute were Catholic, since 80 percent of the three million Nicaraguans belong to that faith. Catholics were also a major force in the 1979 revolution; among the rank and file they far outnumbered Sandinista militants.

The hierarchy blessed the revolution only when the outcome was no longer in doubt, but even so the Sandinista leaders praised Obando for his opposition to toppled dictator Anastasio Somoza Debayle and promised respect for religious freedom. They also appointed four priests to important government positions and encouraged priests and nuns to assume leadership of such government projects as literacy programs, health centers, and agricultural cooperatives. This recognition of the importance of Catholicism gave the revolution a unique cast: Unlike leftist revolutions in other countries, the Sandinista government welcomed the church's participation.

Several factors enabled Christians and Marxists to overcome their historic hostility. One was that the Second Vatican Council had persuaded the Latin American bishops to shift their allegiance from rich to poor, as was formally recognized at their regional conferences in Medellin, Colombia, in 1968 and Puebla, Mexico, in 1979. Another was the development of liberation theology, which emphasized a preferential option for the poor and a commitment to social justice. Equally important was the emergence of Christian base communities, which in many countries, Nicaragua included, offered the poor their first experience of democracy.

Contrary to later claims by the Sandinistas that the bishops were political reactionaries, the hierarchy, including Obando, encouraged the formation of base communities. As early as 1970, when Obando was appointed archbishop of Managua, the bishops began to distance themselves from the Somoza regime, becoming increasingly outspoken against government corruption and repression. Obando and other bishops also gave tentative support to student activism against the dictatorship, such as marches and occupation of the Managua cathedral, and it was through such resistance that student leaders and some priests came in contact with the Sandinista Front of National Liberation (FSLN).

The escalation of violence, including the wholesale massacre of civilians by Somoza's National Guard, pushed the hierarchy into open opposition to Somoza, while many members of the base communities joined the guerrillas or provided a support network. Although the bishops attempted to negotiate a settlement, Somoza's refusal to step down prevented a peaceful solution, and by 1979 even moderate political sectors were working with the guerrillas to overthrow the dictator.

In June of that year the bishops published an extraordinary statement justifying the revolution as the only means to end an "evident and prolonged tyranny, which seriously threatens the fundamental rights of the individual and undermines the common good of the country." The reason the Nicaraguan bishops published the statement was not because they supported the FSLN. Like a majority of the Latin American bishops, they belonged to the political center, wanting reforms but not revolution. But by mid-1979 it was clear that the only group that could beat Somoza was the FSLN and that a majority of the population supported the guerrillas. And indeed the Sandinistas triumphed a month later.

The Nicaraguan bishops did not intend to repeat the experience of the Cuban hierarchy, which by opposition to the revolution removed itself from the process. They recognized the necessity of working with the Sandinistas, and that is why they issued their unusual statement in support of armed rebellion. Five months later they appeared to formalize that association in a pastoral letter that gave qualified endorsement to socialism and, by extension, to the new Sandinista government. But within months of the letter, relations with the government began to deteriorate, eventually leading to an open break.

The bishops were under a variety of pressures. One was the growing concern in Rome, where Pope John Paul took a dim view of priests in government, particularly a leftist one. Another was the eventual recognition by upper- and middle-class sectors closely allied to Obando and other bishops that the uprising had not been simply a changing of the guard but a genuine class revolution intent on overturning the country's economic and social structures.

The controversy over political models divided the church between those who wanted a moderately reformist government and those who believed that radical structural changes were the only way to overcome the poverty in which a majority of the people lived. But the dispute was not only political, because it also involved different interpretations of religious faith. On one side, a traditional church was concerned primarily with personal piety and a hierarchical chain of command; on the other, a radical community of Catholics supported the revolution because it was committed to the poor and because they believed they could help humanize it from within.

From the viewpoint of the institutional church, the latter were a danger to church unity and authority. Sandinista supporters in the church refused to take orders from the bishops, insisting that the church did not depend solely on the hierarchy but belonged to everyone. Since many worked with the government, ideological differences with traditional Catholics were exacerbated, pitching the church into the middle of a major political battle. The Vatican also worried that the marriage of Sandinista nationalism with Catholic religiosity could set a dangerous precedent for the rest of Latin America, particularly in countries where Christian base communities were the vanguard of the struggle for democracy, in the church itself as well as in secular society.

The War

HAD THE CONTRA WAR NOT OCCURRED, TENSIONS BETWEEN the government and the traditional church would still have existed, but they might have been dealt with in a different manner. The war brought out the worst in both sides--which many of former President Ronald Reagan's critics contended was the point of the exercise.

Although the bishops were not unanimously hostile to the government, and some privately disagreed with Obando's confrontational tactics, their position hardened because of the tit-for-tat reaction of the Sandinistas to Obando and his fellow bishop, Pablo Antonio Vega. Convinced that anything had to be better than communism, and unwilling to examine the shadings in a revolution that was more nationalistic than Marxist, Obando and Vega encouraged the contras, not only by refusing to condemn their atrocities but also by attending events in the United States sponsored by contra leaders or their U.S. supporters.

Although the hierarchy in 1986 condemned both the United States and the Soviet Union for providing military aid for the war, Obando and Vega left no doubt about where their sympathies lay. In reprisal, the government closed the church's radio station and a Managua archdiocese newspaper, threatened and briefly jailed Obando supporters, and expelled 18 priests, including Vega himself.

By 1986, when Vega was expelled, neither side was able to hear the other. The bishops could not admit that anything good had been achieved by the revolution, and the Sandinistas made it clear they would not tolerate a critical church. Relations between the traditional church and the pro-Sandinista popular church were equally bad, raising the specter of an irrevocable schism.

While conceding that there was no institutionalized persecution of the church, human rights groups--including Americas Watch and Amnesty International--protested that the sanctions against the church were disproportionate to the offense. Church supporters of the Sandinistas in the United States and Europe also complained that such actions gave ammunition to the revolution's enemies.

But people in Nicaragua continued to believe that the United States might invade, and invasion rumors were taken seriously by the government and the populace. Under such a threat, Nicaraguans were prepared to believe the worst of anyone who did not support the revolution, including the unfounded charge that Obando was a CIA agent. Neither the government press nor the opposition daily, La Prensa, provided a balanced picture of events, and after La Prensa's closure in 1986, Nicaraguans heard only one side of the story.

Spokespersons for the traditional church gave their version to their friends at home and abroad; proponents of the popular church did the same. As Aryeh Neier, Americas Watch vice chair, observed, the situation was "like a Rashomon story in which it ultimately becomes impossible to establish the truth."

The Sandinistas might have followed a hard-line policy had there been no war, but the war made it inevitable. Nicaraguans had no experience of democracy before the revolution, and just when they were beginning to achieve some social and economic breakthroughs, the contra war began. Although consultation remained an important aspect of the revolution, as shown by discussions held throughout the country for a new constitution, "the idea of independent initiative, of a genuinely popular democracy, is gradually being lost because of the inevitable militarism produced by the contra war," said a high-ranking government official.

Evangelizing the Sandinistas

DESPITE OBANDO, VEGA, AND OTHER CHURCH CRITICS, THE comandantes who ran the government were not prepared to write off the Catholic Church. The revolution needed a Catholic presence for pragmatic as well as philosophical reasons. Believers or not, government leaders recognized the intense religiosity of a majority of the people: To deny them religion, particularly during such a time of suffering, would be politically unwise.

The Sandinistas were also aware that the Vatican could do the revolution considerable damage by leaning on churches in other countries. U.S. political and church sources unanimously agreed that a major reason for Congress' periodic cut-offs of contra aid and for the Reagan administration's failure to invade Nicaragua was massive pressure by religious groups opposed to the contra war. The U.S. bishops' opposition to such aid was particularly important, but after Bishop Vega and other Nicaraguan priests were expelled by the Sandinistas, some bishops began to insist that the U.S. hierarchy take a stronger line with the Sandinistas.

Another consideration shaping the Nicaraguan government's relations with Catholicism was the image it projected abroad. At least in the early years of the revolution, the presence of priests in the government helped persuade some European governments that the Sandinistas were sincere in their promises to respect a mixed economy and political pluralism.

While considerable disenchantment later set in, particularly among the Social Democrats, the religious element remained an important ingredient in Sandinista public relations. The Peruvian priest, Gustavo Gutierrez, regarded as the father of liberation theology, appeared to be among those who were distancing themselves from Nicaragua's popular church; it was not, he said, necessarily a good expression of liberation theology. But while the glamour gradually wore off the Nicaraguan experiment because it no longer was new and a bureaucratic elite had emerged, revolutionary Nicaragua was still widely admired in Latin America, particularly among the young, as a David fighting Goliath.

In the long run, the most important element in church-state relations may be the extent to which Catholic supporters can hold the Sandinistas to their promises. This is a major reason given for the popular church's close association with the government and the presence of priests in high official positions. Jesuit Cesar Jerez, president of the University of Central America in Managua, argued eloquently for a "critical presence" within the revolution that would enable Christians to criticize abuses and prevent it from becoming anti-religious.

One of the difficulties in church-state relations in Nicaragua was the constant interference by the state in religious matters and the frequent interjections of the bishops' personal opinions into the political process. Until late 1986, when the Vatican took a hand in the matter, Cardinal Obando and other anti-Sandinista clergy frequently gave sermons that were highly charged with political overtones. Consequently the sermons were censored by the government-controlled media; priests were also warned that they could be expelled from the country if they did not temper their words. When Obando expelled pro-Sandinista priests and nuns from their parishes or demanded that their religious orders recall them, the government responded by expelling pro-Obando priests.

As Jerez admitted, some Sandinista supporters were guilty of manipulation through "blind submission to political plans or directives and dubious identifications between revolutionary processes and the Kingdom of God." He also conceded that it was not so easy for religious leaders to maintain a critical presence, "especially when critical support must be given from inside the very structures of power." Jerez nevertheless believed--as did many U.S. religious and political supporters of the Sandinistas--that criticism could be made only within Nicaragua, not outside, and then only in private dialogue. But other concerned observers, including progressive Catholic and Protestant leaders in the United States, argued that they were not helping the revolutionary process by withholding all criticism.

Religious Harassment

THE DELICATE ISSUE OF CRITICISM WAS RAISED IN THE spring of 1986 not only by Americas Watch and Amnesty International but also by such friends of the revolution as Sojourners magazine, a prime mover in the Witness for Peace program that sent church people to Nicaragua to serve as peaceful witnesses against the contra war. The reason for concern was a clampdown on dissent following the imposition in October 1985 of a sweeping state of emergency decree that gave the government powers to restrict freedom of movement, expression, and association; suspend the right to strike; and intrude on personal privacy. The groups most affected were labor unions, political parties, the media, and the churches. Several hundred Nicaraguans were arrested, most of whom were released within a few hours, according to Amnesty International. However, the human rights organization said it was concerned about "prolonged pretrial incommunicado detention of political prisoners and restrictions on their right to a fair trial; and poor prison conditions for political prisoners." Amnesty said it had received some reports of torture and arbitrary killings, but that the Nicaraguan government had stated that military personnel responsible for these abuses had been tried, sentenced, and imprisoned.

While abuses appeared to have declined by the end of 1986, the conflict with the Catholic Church remained hot, as did the confrontation with fundamentalist Protestant churches, in part because of temporary detention or expulsion of church people. Church groups were also at odds with the government because of ongoing conflict with the Miskito Indians in northeastern Nicaragua, where the Protestant Moravian Church dominates.

In addition to the Indians, the main conflicts between the state and the traditional Catholic Church centered on priests in government posts and the military draft, which Obando's followers strongly opposed. When the bishops issued a critical statement on the draft, Sandinista mobs, known as turbas, prevented Masses in eight churches, and Managua's auxiliary bishop, Bosco Vivas, was attacked when he tried to enter a local church. He was told that he "would be a dead man" if he actually entered. That night the doors were torn off several churches run by pro-Obando priests. According to Obando, his car was attacked twice--but with no one injured--by turbas.

Relations between the government and the traditional church continued to worsen following the arrest in 1984 of Father Amado Pena, a pro-Obando priest and outspoken critic of the revolution who was charged with counterrevolutionary activities. After Pena was seized and placed under house arrest in a Managua seminary, the furious Obando led a protest march of 30 priests to the seminary, despite government warnings of dire consequences.

Within hours of the march, 10 foreign priests who had been critical of the government were expelled from the country. Several had been resident in Nicaragua for more than 30 years. Amnesty International subsequently adopted Father Pena as a prisoner of conscience, stating that he had been "falsely implicated in criminal activity by the State Security Service because of his expression of his political views." Charges against Father Pena were dropped a few months later.

Obando claimed that such acts were evidence of religious persecution, but in a Latin American context a better description--one that was used by the pope in an angry letter to the Nicaraguan government--was harassment. As the Sandinistas pointed out, no priests or nuns had been murdered in Nicaragua, in contrast to the killings in neighboring Central American nations; and many Latin American governments, including so-called democracies, had expelled priests and nuns for political reasons. On the other hand, the government's tactics were crude and clearly violated international norms against arbitrary detention and freedom of expression. The aim, as Amnesty International pointed out, was "to intimidate," but the effect was to give contra supporters in the United States more ammunition for their campaign.

Although the Sandinistas justified such actions on the ground that the country was at war, they ignored the fact that the shooting war was subject to political actions that could shift for or against them according to perceptions of the U.S. public, or at least of politically active groups. Dependence on U.S. public opinion understandably galled the nationalists, who had to divert scarce human and material resources to fight a war that had been started by the United States.

Even when the Sandinistas bent over backward to explain their position in the United States, they were often rebuffed by a Congress beholden to the White House. As the war ground on, and the Sandinistas became increasingly dependent on the Communist bloc for military and economic aid, some adopted the attitude, "To hell with the Americans"--and their churches, too.

Outspoken language became typical of many involved in the church-state confrontation, including Foreign Minister Miguel D'Escoto and Obando, who regularly traded insults. The. same impassioned rhetoric roared over the radio, turned the newspapers into propaganda sheets, and divided the Nicaraguan people.

Father Jerez might plead for dialogue, but Nicaraguans were angry. They were fed up with the war amid the Sandinistas' bureaucratic bumbling, and many were hungry. "People talk about dialogue, but it's a meaningless word after so many decades of dictatorship," said a U.S. priest who had worked in Nicaragua for several decades. "It's not something that just materializes out of the air. Yet dialogue is what the church and society needs--not more rhetoric."

But rhetoric continued to characterize relations until 1986, when Bishop Vega was expelled following statements he made in the United States about religious persecution in Nicaragua--for example, that the Sandinistas had killed three priests, an allegation he must have known was untrue. His claims were later used by President Reagan to help justify the administration's request for $100 million in contra aid. ("Reverend Father, we've heard you," announced the president.)

While Vega's expulsion had a dampening effect on the Sandinistas' church supporters in the United States and Europe, it did help open the way for negotiations between the Vatican and Managua. The bishop's public complaints over his mistreatment were so loud and so political that even the Vatican was forced to admit that the Sandinistas might have had a reason to dislike him. The failure of the contras to overthrow the Sandinistas and the approaching end of Reagan's term were also factors in Rome's decision to attempt a new tack. Vatican and Latin American church sources said that Vega was told by Rome to stop holding press conferences.

Although Pope John Paul disapproved of the Sandinista government, as shown by his controversial visit to Nicaragua in 1983 and his appointment of Obando as cardinal two years later, in the fall of 1986 the Vatican foreign office began to have second thoughts about Obando's hard-line tactics. A new papal nuncio and experienced troubleshooter, Archbishop Paolo Gilio, was dispatched to Managua to do "everything possible" to improve church-state relations; and in September, Cardinal Obando and President Daniel Ortega held talks for the first time in two years. The result was the establishment of a mixed government-episcopal commission charged with "normalizing" relations.

Both sides had pragmatic reasons to support a thaw. On one hand, the contest with the traditional church was damaging the Sandinistas' popularity with Nicaraguan Catholics. On the other, it was pushing the contestants toward an irreversible break that could destroy any space for the traditional church.

Religious and diplomatic informants also said that the Vatican secretariat of state disapproved of the contra war as counter-productive. The sources said that Rome was prepared to promise neutrality by the church in return for a guaranteed base within Nicaraguan society. Although the Sandinistas wanted Rome to recognize, and therefore legitimate, the revolution, Vatican informants warned that any concessions by the Vatican should be seen as "purely tactical" to avoid further division in the Nicaraguan church and the loss of any influence on the Sandinista experiment.

"John Paul opposes the Nicaraguan revolution because he believes it a Central American variation of Poland, and therefore Rome will never publicly recognize the revolution's legitimacy," predicted an informed church source. "At the same time, the Vatican doesn't want to give away too many cards, because it needs to maintain good relations with the United States as its chief ally in the East-West conflict."

While Cardinal Obando was not everyone's ideal of the "good pastor"--being autocratic, vain, and hot-tempered--there could be no doubt that the prelate had the courage of his convictions. Although few Nicaraguans shared Obando's enthusiasm for the contras, many held to his traditional religious beliefs, and they honored him for refusing to compromise with the state over religious freedoms. Consequently, when the Sandinistas needed a mediator to enable them to fulfill their part of a five-nation Central America peace accord signed in August 1987, they turned to their avowed enemy, the cardinal.

The peace plan, which was promoted by Costa Rican president Oscar Arias--and for which he received the 1987 Nobel Peace Prize--took the Reagan administration by surprise. Aimed at ending hostilities between Left and Right, it cut the ground from under the White House, which was still vigorously pursuing the contra war, by providing a framework for a cease-fire in Nicaragua. As an indication of their good intentions, the Sandinistas authorized the reopening of the opposition newspaper La Prensa and the Managua archdiocese's Radio Catolica. They also agreed to end the exile of the radio station's director, Monsignor Bismarck Carballo, as well as that of Bishop Vega and an Italian priest. Although Carballo returned to Nicaragua, Vega remained in Miami, saying that he did not "wish to lend myself to the deceit that the situation is improving."

In November 1987 the government asked Obando to become the mediator in talks with the contras about a cease-fire. According to Ortega, Obando was the "ideal" person to serve as go-between. Indicative of the thaw in church-state relations, government officials took to calling the cardinal "His Eminence" and the "illustrious bishop." But while tensions with the government decreased because of the peace plan, the hierarchy and the Sandinistas remained miles apart on many issues.

In spite of everything--or perhaps because of it--religion flourished in Nicaragua, primarily among traditional Catholic and Protestant fundamentalist churches. Statistics showed that government harassment had not prevented the growth of churches but, on the contrary, probably encouraged it. A breakdown of the figures suggested that the religious institutions that most benefited were traditional churches that promised religious certitudes in a time of political and social upheaval.

Father Uriel Molina, pastor of a pro-government church in Managua famous for its Sandinista Masses, put his finger on the challenge. "The churches of priests who are against the revolution are full," he said, "because they offer a space for protest, just as our churches did in the time of Somoza. Now, churches like mine have few people, not because they reject the church, but because they are too busy carrying out the tasks of the revolution. This is another way of achieving Christian identity."

"Many Catholic revolutionaries have put formal religion aside," explained the Sandinista leader of a Managua base community. "We realize God is not up in the sky, light years away. God is health, literacy, production. We can find him by working for those things."

That may well be true, but it did not answer the spiritual yearning of the Nicaraguan people. Even the most generous estimates by supporters of the popular church claimed no more than one-quarter of the country's priests and nuns. Many of the committed were so busy carrying out the tasks of the revolution that they had no time for pastoral work. A sizable number of the priests were engaged in intellectual activities to justify the revolution or in organizational skirmishes with Obando's church.

The nuns tried to fill the gap by living and working with the poor, but there were not enough of them. Meanwhile, the formerly thriving movement of Christian base communities stagnated in many parts of the country, partly because of opposition from the bishops, but also because the communities were absorbed by the Sandinista political machine.

A good example of the dilemma facing those in the popular church was Foreign Minister D'Escoto, who had the charisma and vision to provide a strong religious leadership but who was too occupied with the demands of foreign policy to devote much energy to spiritual ministry. As admitted by some in the popular church, the price of political power was a secular erosion of spirituality. For many Nicaraguans, particularly the urban young, the revolution provided all that was necessary in a faith, but for many more, it was not enough.

The Protestants

LIKE THE CATHOLICS, THE PROTESTANTS WERE SPLIT between churches that supported the revolution and those that opposed it, and for much the same reasons. They also suffered deep internal schisms, some churches actually expelling pastors who expressed pro-Sandinista sentiments. Progressive Protestants, or what would be called the Protestant wing of the popular church, were in the minority and, like their Catholic counterparts, were losing membership. While few Protestant churches suffered outright persecution--the principal exception being the Moravian Church because of its involvement in the Miskito conflict--they were subjected to the same unpleasantries experienced by Obando's church, including temporary detention of pastors.

In one case, an evangelical minister was killed by Sandinista soldiers (the culprits were punished by the government). In another, a Pentecostal preacher, Prudencio Baltodano, was brutally treated by Sandinista soldiers, who cut off one of his ears. In 1982, 30 church buildings belonging to the Jehovah's Witnesses, Mormons, and Seventh Day Adventists were seized by Sandinista turbas.

Unlike Catholicism, which is embedded in Nicaraguan culture, many of the Protestant churches, particularly the evangelicals, suffered from their association with U.S. churches and pastors, raising Sandinista suspicions of a CIA connection. Despite such problems, the fundamentalist Protestant churches rapidly multiplied, accounting for approximately 15 percent of the population by the mid-'80s. The most successful denominations were the Pentecostals, who comprised 85 percent of the evangelicals.

Most of these churches believed in pre-millennialism, or the return of Christ to rescue his followers during a world war between heathens and Christians that will mark the start of Christ's millennial reign. Consequently, they eschewed political involvement, at least with the Left, since only God could save them. This led to serious problems with the Sandinista government as, for example, over the military draft.

After the devastating floods in 1982, there were reports that some pastors had said the disaster was a sign of God's disapproval of the "communist direction" of the government. Some religious communities also instructed their members not to accept sugar ration cards because they were a sign of the "apocalyptic beast."

But according to Rev. Carlos Escorcia Jr., a pro-Sandinista Assemblies of God minister, the pastors were simply following their religious conscience. "These poor guys have never seen the CIA," he said. "They are not working for the CIA, and they have never been contacted by a CIA agent." On the other hand, a few did have contact with the U.S. Embassy in Managua, and these relations, in addition to U.S. funding and the pro-contra stance of their U.S. religious backers, caused the churches problems.

Like traditional Catholics, the strongly anticommunist fundamentalists believed that support for the revolution represented an unacceptable mixing of religion and politics, whereas opposition to the regime was condoned on the ground that Marxism was the work of the devil. The mainline Protestant churches--the Methodists, Presbyterians, and Baptists-tended to take the opposite position. Baptist ministers, for example, said that, while their church had been harassed under the Somoza government, it had been able to operate freely under the Sandinistas (a dissenting wing took issue with that opinion). Some evangelical pastors were also supportive, particularly those identified with the Evangelical Committee for Aid and Development (CEPAD). But the majority of the evangelicals remained neutral toward or resistant to the revolution.

Like the Catholics, the progressive and conservative wings--as represented by CEPAD and the National Council of Evangelical Pastors (CNPEN), respectively--wasted enormous amounts of energy fighting each other. CEPAD, which was founded as a church relief agency after the devastating earthquake in 1972, gradually evolved into an umbrella group for 46 denominations, and another 20 on a cooperative basis. It worked with the government on social projects, such as the construction of low-cost housing and medical aid. It also tried to serve as a bridge between the fundamentalists and the Sandinistas.

Differences between CEPAD and CNPEN reflected different interpretations of faith. CEPAD was ecumenical, democratic, and concerned with social justice as well as saving souls. CNPEN wanted nothing to do with Catholics; upheld a hierarchical structure in which the pastor, not the congregation, represented the church; and dismissed good works as useless or, if they were co-sponsored by the government, as Sandinista propaganda.

But as with the Catholics, the principal issue dividing CEPAD and CNPEN was the relationship between the churches and the revolution. CNPEN spokespersons charged CEPAD with being too forgiving of the Sandinistas' failures, while CEPAD countered that the CNPEN pastors refused to see anything good in the revolution.

The Miskitos

THE MOST TRAGIC SITUATION INVOLVING THE CHURCHES IN Nicaragua was the conflict between the Miskito Indians and the Sandinista government. Churches and communities--the whole region of Moskitia in eastern Nicaragua--were ravaged by the conflict between the contras and the Sandinistas. At stake were the lives of some 110,000 Miskito, Sumu, and Rama Indians--the largest surviving lowland Indian population in Latin America.

Long ago, the Miskitos learned the importance of playing off the whites one against another. The Miskitos' historical distrust of "Spaniards," as they call Nicaraguans from the Pacific coast, was reinforced by religious and linguistic differences. The cultural and racial subtleties inherent in this estrangement are evident still today.

Rule by prerevolutionary Managua was exploitive. At the same time, the Miskitos' communal life remained relatively untouched. Because of the remoteness of the Atlantic territories, the Miskitos and other Indians participated hardly at all in the revolution. But the Miskitos welcomed the Sandinista takeover as putting an end to traditional exploitation of indigenous groups by right-wing military regimes.

Nevertheless, the Nicaraguan majority's distrust of the Miskitos was evident from the start in the way the Sandinistas reacted to the establishment of an Indian organization, Misurasata. Their initial misgivings did not arise from overt racial or ideological prejudices but from the fear common among Latin American revolutionaries that foreigners, which is how they regarded the English-speaking Indians, might undermine the hard-won victory, as they had in Guatemala and Chile.

Nevertheless, the Sandinistas gave Misurasata a voice in the Council of State. And when the organization complained that the literacy campaign on the Atlantic coast was conducted entirely in Spanish, Indians were hired to teach the natives to read and write in their own tongue.

But two obstacles arose to doom this promising start. One was the Indians' increasing self-confidence, expressed primarily in demands for government recognition of their land rights. The other was the Sandinistas' discovery that they could not mold Misurasata into a government-controlled mass organization, as they had Nicaraguan youth and labor groups. Officials often encountered passive resistance to their programs among the Indian population, unless the Misurasata leadership approved the project.

The idea that the Indians were merely responding to age-old tribal loyalties escaped the Sandinistas, who believed, in President Ortega's words, that the revolution had to "rescue them and incorporate them into the process." But no Indian group in Latin America has willingly allowed itself to be integrated into government development plans--regardless of the government's ideology--because integration has always meant the extinction of Indian culture.

Mutual distrust led to a series of clashes in 1981 between Indians and Sandinistas, and in January 1982 the government forced 8,500 Miskitos to leave their villages along the Coco River and settle in government camps to the south known as Tasba Pri. The government thought it had reason to suspect the Indian leadership, particularly Steadman Fagoth, who, on escaping across the border to Honduras, immediately went to work for the CIA. The Sandinistas also felt justified in moving the Indian population from the war zone along the border--and were upheld in their decision by such human rights groups as Americas Watch and the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR), an agency of the Organization of American States.

But human rights groups did not approve of the way the Indians were forcibly relocated to government camps. The Sandinistas razed the Indians' villages and farms, and 44 Moravian church buildings were closed or destroyed. The churches were also used to quarter Sandinista troops. Nor did Americas Watch, the IACHR, or Amnesty International accept Sandinista explanations for the killings and disappearances of Indians, including five Moravian pastors. In addition, 18 Moravian pastors were imprisoned by government forces, some of whom were maltreated before being released.

After the Indians were relocated and their villages were destroyed, it was open war between the Miskitos and the Sandinistas. Eventually, the government allowed the Indians to return to the Coco River and initiated discussions on limited autonomy for the Miskito region. It also developed a pro-Sandinista Indian organization, Misatan, while opening negotiations with local Miskito military commanders to achieve a truce in certain areas. These initiatives were accompanied by apologies from the government for the mistakes it had committed in Indian territories.

Throughout the tragedy the Moravian Church tried to play a mediating role while remaining steadfast to its people. Had traditional Catholics or the Protestant fundamentalists been in the Moravians' place, the shooting war would undoubtedly have become a holy crusade--certainly, the Moravians suffered sufficiently at the Sandinistas' hands to be angry.

But the Moravians were prepared to give the Sandinistas the benefit of the doubt that, if the contra war ceased, an autonomy based on tolerance could be achieved for the Miskito territories. More than any other church in Nicaragua, the Moravians followed the prophetic path of genuine reconciliation. The Moravian Church could speak with one voice in Nicaragua, even though different Miskito leaders appeared to side now with the contras, now with the Sandinistas, because it understood a basic principle in the Indians' ethnicity: The Indians were not loyal to any white person's agenda but only to their own culture and history.

The sticking point in the conflict was that the Indians wanted freedom to do things their own way without being bossed around by Spanish-speaking revolutionaries from the western side of the country. Members of the Moravian Church believed it possible to overcome the deep distrust between Pacific and Atlantic coasts, and perhaps, without the tensions of the contra war, they may be proved right. Meanwhile, said a Moravian missionary, "the question is not whether the church is being harassed, but whether it is being faithful--whether it can be faithful in this situation."

Steadfastness

JESUIT PEACE ACTIVIST DANIEL BERRIGAN FOUND THE Nicaraguan situation troubling. He was upset by the bishops' failure to condemn the contra atrocities, and equally unhappy with the Sandinistas' lack of "sensitivity toward the truth," since, he said, the fortunes of the revolution depended on truthfulness. After Ernesto Cardenal, the poet-priest and minister of culture, refused to admit any errors in the government's policy toward the Miskitos, Berrigan found himself wondering about a revolution that assumed an "absolute platonic form, beyond question or critique." What Cardenal did not realize, said Berrigan, was that he had become the "surrogate and victim" of a romantic ideal of revolution that did not admit human fallibility.

Berrigan had a valid point in charging that many foreigners, particularly Americans, projected their hopes and hates onto the revolution, dismissing reality when it conflicted with their expectations. An example of how the Americans harmed the people they were supposedly trying to help was provided by the neoconservative Institute on Religion and Democracy (IRD). Formed to push the Reagan agenda among church groups, the IRD's briefing papers and newsletter loyally reflected the party line and were sometimes used by the White House in briefings for religious leaders.

Most of its material on Nicaragua was venomously anti-Sandinista. The IRD specialized in the smear, particularly against liberal churches that supported the Nicaraguan revolution. Several of its associates were directly involved in the contra support effort, including Michael Novak, a neoconservative Catholic writer, and Penn Kemble, who helped found the IRD.

The Nicaraguan government became highly suspicious of anyone connected to the IRD, which it considered a CIA front. (Although the IRD had received a grant from the U.S. Information Agency for an international religious conference co-sponsored with the State Department, there was no evidence of CIA funding.) Consequently any Nicaraguan associated with the institute had to expect trouble. Obando, for example, was not allowed to forget that he had gone to the United States to accept an award from the institute.

Yet Obando was a powerful churchman who knew how to take care of himself. That was not true of the poor evangelical pastors of CNPEN who suffered severe harassment because the IRD decided to use them in the propaganda war.

Similarly, the IRD caused considerable unpleasantness for Gustavo Parajon, a highly respected Baptist pastor and medical doctor who founded CEPAD, by insinuating that he was promoting Marxism in the churches because "he's a Sandinista supporter." As proof of Parajon's sins, the IRD published an interview with Miguel Bolanos Hunter, a defector from Nicaragua's state security who made sweeping, unproven allegations that were challenged by respected human rights organizations. Bolanos claimed that Parajon was a state informer, reporting "everything that CEPAD talked about" to state security. Although an IRD representative later admitted to Sojourners magazine that "I don't know if it's true [about Parajon], and I don't know how to find out," the institute had no qualms about the interview.

The IRD was so intent on justifying hatred of the Nicaraguan revolution that it never considered the damage it was inflicting on the evangelical pastors in CNPEN, most of whom served the poor, or CEPAD, which was a major source of food and medicine for the poor. As candidly admitted by Richard John Neuhaus, a neoconservative Lutheran pastor and IRD founder, the suffering of the poor was a regrettable side effect of the great campaign against a leftist government. "Washington believes," he said, "that Nicaragua must serve as a warning to the rest of Central America to never again challenge U.S. hegemony, because of the enormous economic and political costs. It's too bad that the [Nicaraguan] poor must suffer, but historically the poor have always suffered. Nicaragua must be a lesson to others."

Although the contras' supporters constantly invoked God's blessing, the claim was cynical and self-serving. As New York's conservative Cardinal John O'Connor told Congress, "Direct military aid to any force attempting to overthrow a government with which we are not at war and with which we maintain diplomatic relations is illegal, and, in our judgment, immoral and therefore cannot merit our support."

Nor, believed thoughtful Christians like Daniel Berrigan, did God identify with the Sandinista government or the political opposition led by Cardinal Obando. The early Christians converted the masters of the Roman empire not through political lobbies but by their religious example--their steadfastness to the community of faith.

The popular church discerned such values in the Sandinista revolution. Its leaders also believed it was necessary to maintain a "critical presence" from within in order to prevent anti-religious attitudes and to remind the Sandinistas of their promises. Quite a few Nicaraguan Christians also believed that they were living their faith by doing the work of the revolution as, for example, in health and literacy programs.

Yet a problem arose. Faith in the revolution remained strong among the Sandinista cadres, but many no longer felt the need for spiritual discipline. The urban young increasingly rejected religion, partly because the traditional church opposed the revolution, but also because of indoctrination by the Sandinista army and police. Even popular church leaders recognized that the Christian base communities had been absorbed by the process.

"The most educated people went off to the government ministries, while the kids joined the army," a base community leader admitted. The price of this loss was inestimable, because base communities of ordinary people could have provided an independent but loyal opposition to keep the Sandinistas honest. Instead, Nicaragua had a hierarchical church run by the traditionalists and a hierarchical state apparatus but no independent group of Christians able to stand outside the political disputes between the two.

Obando's church, though just as sincere as the popular church, made similar mistakes by making ideology more important than religion, thus forfeiting the goodwill of many Nicaraguan Christians. Common sense should have made the bishops realize that the revolution was irrevocable, but it was only in the fall of 1986, after much damage had been done to church-state relations, that the Vatican faced that reality.

What the overwhelming majority of Nicaraguans wanted was peace. But the Nicaraguans, it seemed, could not be trusted to settle matters by themselves: hence the contra war, the interjection of East-West politics by both Washington and the Vatican, and the subsequent entrance of the Communist bloc, which provided the Sandinistas with the military and economic aid that the United States would not.

The cycle was familiar--much the same had happened 20 years earlier when the Cubans had toppled a corrupt dictator. Yet history never quite repeats itself. Nicaragua is not another Cuba--not only because its history and people are different, but also because religion plays such a determining role.

Penny Lernoux was a Sojourners contributing editor and a journalist living in Latin America when this article appeared. This article is a condensation of a chapter from Lernoux's book People of God: The Struggle for World Catholicism, published by Viking Penguin Inc. in April 1989.