In Good and Bad Ways to Think About Religion and Politics (Eerdmans, 2010), Robert Benne offers the following excellent, basic distillation of the principle of religious freedom as it ought to be applied in the United States. This distinction is too often blurred, or simply omitted, by those who would remove all reference to religion from the public square in the name of the legitimate principle of separation of church and state, which addresses institutions. As Benne notes in the last sentence, thoughtful Christians will inevitably, and legitimately, engage their faith in the world of politics and policy:
“The state should not confuse separation of church and state, which deals with institutional relationships, with the separation of religion and politics, which deals with the interaction of religious values and perspectives and the political process. The latter is protected by the First Amendment, whose first freedom enables religious persons and institutions to bring their religious values to bear in the political process. Further, such interaction is inevitable when Christians take seriously the comprehensive scope of God’s sovereignty and their duty to that sovereign God” (55-56).
In his tremendously helpful Good and Bad Ways to Think About Religion and Politics (Eerdmans, 2010), Robert Benne lays out the two main ways to wrongly relate religion and politics – separationism, which calls for a strict removal of faith and religious values from the public square, and fusionism, which seeks to marry religion to politics in a way that has repeatedly proved toxic and destructive for religion itself. Benne then argues for “critical engagement,” whereby Christians critically participate in politics by seeking to move from the “core” insights of their faith (e.g. the fallenness of man, or the dignity of life in all its forms) to public policy, allowing for sincere disagreement on certain trickier issues.
In the excerpt below, on the problems of separationism, Benne shows how many of us do this – compartmentalize faith – in other areas of life besides politics. The right approach, he argues, and I would heartily agree, integrates faith in a way self-critical, thoughtful, and sensible way to all areas of life. But separate it must not remain, for if Christians had always practiced this – keeping religious values out of various spheres of public life – we wouldn’t have the likes of Isaac Newton, William Wilberforce, and Eric Liddel, whose Christian faith spurred their historical achievements in the fields of science, politics, and sports, respectively.*
“The vast majority of separationism…is not driven by faulty theology. Most is a product of practical tendencies to separate religion from ordinary life – Sunday from Monday through Saturday. People don’t have to be sectarians or dualists in theory; they just think and act in ways that separate religion and ordinary life, including politics. One major reason for such dualism is that since the coming of modern times…each sector of life is increasingly divided from other sectors of life, each being purportedly guided by its own autonomous principles. So practical wisdom gives the verdict that ‘religion and politics don’t mix.’ Religion and science don’t mix. Religion and business don’t mix. Religion and art don’t mix. Religion and sport don’t mix. So Christians segment themselves according to the sector of life that they inhabit at the time. They are bifurcated or trifurcated Christians.
“While there is some truth to this segmentation – there is a tentative autonomy to these various sectors – there is no final autonomy. From a Christian point of view all sectors are under the sovereignty of God, and he is active in them… There can be no areas that are free and clear from the presence and commands of God. Practical separationism is as bad as theoretical separationism. Both must be rejected by serious, classical Christians” (23-24).
* Wilberforce was the 18th-century British politician who led the campaign to abolish the slave trade, and Eric Liddel was the Scottish runner and missionary who famously refused to participate in an event at the 1924 Olympics because it would have forced him to compromise his Christian convictions (the film Chariots of Fire was based on this).
What if a hospital refused to see you because last summer you volunteered for the political party opposite of that of your Governor? What if you were dropped by your insurance company because you signed a petition calling for the passage of a law opposed by the President? We would be outraged if these things happened in this country regularly and without consequence, and rightly so. Sadly, this has been the reality in Venezuela for many years under Hugo Chávez, and it continues today under his hand-picked and less talented successor, Nicolás Maduro.
In his timely and important book, The Dictator’s Learning Curve (Anchor, 2013), William Dobson gives us a glimpse of the abuse of state resources by government officials who target those who act to challenge the state:
“In one case documented by Human Rights Watch, a ninety-eight-year-old woman was denied medical prescriptions she had been receiving for years; when her family inquired, they were told it was because she had signed the referendum [for a recall vote challenging Chávez]. One person I met told me a similar story. Her fiancé required immediate medical attention and went to the emergency room of a government-run hospital. The hospital representative was in the process of admitting him, until she ran his voting identification card through the computer. He was told he would have to go someplace else…In a society ruled by patronage politics, being identified as an enemy of the state can have serious consequences…Venezuelans used the list against fellow citizens to decide everything from who is hired or fired to who gets a passport or is audited by the tax authorities” (100).
Twentieth-century theologian, public intellectual, and prophet, Reinhold Niebuhr wrote powerfully about America’s role in the world. He beckoned Americans to examine their own values in light of their professed virtues and noble national goals, reminding a nation of the need for humility and faith even as it pursues justice and confronts real evil in a morally ambiguous and often tragic world. In his classic The Irony of American History (University of Chicago, 1952), he achieved the nearly impossible: critiquing his own society from within, like an astute and wise outside observer, but with eyes of faith which transcended the events of his day.
A short sampling of some of my favorite excerpts:
“A sane life requires that we have some clue to the mystery so that the realm of meaning is not simply reduced to the comprehensible processes of nature. But these clues are ascertained by faith, which modern man has lost.”
“Genuine community is established only when the knowledge that we need one another is supplemented by the recognition that ‘the other,’ that other form of life, or that other unique community is the limit beyond which our ambitions must not run and the boundary beyond which our life must not expand.”
“The God before whom ‘the nations are as a drop in the bucket and are counted as small dust in the balances’ is known by faith and not by reason. The realm of mystery and meaning which encloses and finally makes sense out of the baffling configurations of history is not identical with any scheme of rational intelligibility. The faith which appropriates the meaning in the mystery inevitably involves an experience of repentance for the false meaning which the pride of nations and cultures introduces into the pattern. Such repentance is the true source of charity; and we are more desperately in need of genuine charity than of more technocratic skills.”
“…the whole drama of human history is under the scrutiny of a divine judge who laughs at human pretensions without being hostile to human aspirations.”
“…humility…is the prerequisite of every spiritual achievement.”
“Those who succeed in life, whether by the acquisition of power, wealth, or wisdom, do incline to value their achievements too highly and to forget the fragmentary character of all human achievements.”
My work exposes me to difficult questions about America’s role and responsibility in the world community. Iran and the nuclear bomb. The use of chemical weapons against innocents in Syria. Billions in assistance to Egyptian strongmen who offend our democratic sensibilities but who ensure our national interests in the Middle East. These examples are the ones that grab the headlines, but there are many more like them that are no less complex.
Though I have no decision making responsibility over these matters, the people I work for do, and their responsibility forces me to consider the inevitable exercise of American leadership on the world stage. On the one hand we see the reality of this exercise – far from perfect, sometimes hypocritical, but, as I and many others see it, on the whole good and indispensable; and on the other hand we hold the ideal of this exercise – the promotion of the universal principles of liberty, equality and human dignity through our engagement with the world.
Too often in our discourse and our policymaking we lose the balance between the actual and the ideal: some jettison any notion of universal norms and humanitarian disinterestedness as self-defeating delusions that have no place in the exercise of foreign policy in the real world, and others would seek to wield American power to crusade against all injustice and, whether unilaterally or in concert with international bodies, seek to prevent conflict everywhere and usher in world peace. Two men exemplifying these two spectrums are Henry Kissinger, the brilliant realist behind Nixon’s opening to China, and Woodrow Wilson, the academic architect of the League of Nations who said he was taking the U.S. into World War I to “make the world safe for democracy.”
To this discussion Reinhold Niebuhr offers wise words which, though written 1952, remain as relevant and pressing today. Public intellectual, Christian theologian and adamant anti-communist, Niebuhr was clear-eyed about the shortcomings of our nation as it proclaimed its virtue against the evil of communism. In The Irony of American History, he shattered the illusion that we as a nation could keep intact our innocence and virtues and still fulfill our responsibility to the world. He understood that though this exercise of leadership is inevitably imperfect and sometimes tragic, the consequences of inaction and isolationism are worse still. Today’s idealists who call on our leaders to either retreat from the world stage or pursue a more innocent and pure foreign policy would do well to consider his words:
“They [the idealists of the 1930s] had a dim and dark understanding of the fact that power cannot be wielded without guilt, since it is never transcendent over interest, even when it tries to subject itself to universal standards and places itself under the control of a nascent world-wide community. They did not understand that the disavowal of the responsibilities of power can involve an individual or nation in even more grievous guilt.”
This country needs more men like George Kennan.
George Kennan is best known for his “X” article, which laid out the policy of containment that was to define decades of U.S. policy toward the Soviet Union. George Kennan (1904-2005) was an accomplished diplomat, a devoted husband (a marriage of over 70 years!), a natural teacher, a meticulous historian, and a gifted writer. But perhaps the best way to describe him is as “conscience of a nation,” as John Lukacs puts it in his excellent biography, George Kennan: A Study of Character (Yale, 2009). What made George Kennan invaluable as a diplomat was that he was the best kind of patriot: a man who so loved his country that he did not turn a blind eye to its faults and defects but shined a light on them, wishing the improvement of our character and conduct as a nation. He was deeply committed to the principles of liberty and equality and believed America should exert its influence in the world, but he deplored the tendency toward wrongheaded, righteous interventions and the increasing overextension of our military throughout the world. In this vein he often quoted John Quincy Adams: “We are friends of liberty all over the world; but we do not go abroad in search of monsters to destroy.” This posture earned him the ire of both liberals and conservatives, and so it should be, for he had “no doctrines, only principles.”
George Kennan led a long and fruitful life, leaving behind a mountain of writings on the role of the U.S. in the world. As our country faces many serious threats, it is worth recalling the lessons of this sober-minded and clear-eyed American, of which the most important may be, humility:
“Remember that the ultimate judgments of good and evil are not ours to make: that the wrath of man against his fellow man must always be tempered by the recollection of his weakness and fallibility and by the example of forgiveness and redemption which is the essence of his Christian heritage.” (130, quoted from his 1953 address to University of Notre Dame).
Known for his masterful history of post-World War II Europe, Postwar (Penguin, 2006), historian Tony Judt wrote The Memory Chalet (Penguin, 2010) at the twilight of his life, almost entirely incapacitated from ALS (Lou Gherig’s disease). This is a series of essays recalling various times in his life to which his mind would turn for comfort and entertainment while trapped in his own body. He writes on various topics, but has a lot to say about today’s political environment, which he believed lacks the sense of a common purpose and a common good that marked earlier generations. Below is an excerpt which I would wholeheartedly affirm:
“We have substituted endless commerce for public purpose, and expect no higher aspirations from our leaders. Sixty years after Churchill could offer only “blood, toil, tears and sweat,” our very own war president [George W. Bush, president at the time of writing] – notwithstanding the hyperventilated moralism of his rhetoric – could think of nothing more to ask of us in the wake of September 11, 2001, than to continue shopping. This impoverished view of community – the “togetherness” of consumption – is all we deserve from those who now govern us. If we want better rulers, we must learn to ask more from them and less for ourselves. A little austerity might be in order” (32).
William Wilberforce (1759-1833) is my historical hero, hands down. A talented and extremely successful politician (he never lost an election while he was in the House of Commons), he put his faith in Christ while in office and then focused his energies and vast talents on addressing social issues such as poverty, children’s education, and animal cruelty. What he is best known for, and justifiably so, is his role as the leading political figure in the abolition of the British slave trade.
Soon after becoming a Christian, Wilberforce seriously considered leaving the world of politics. We can be thankful, very thankful, that he instead chose to stay and use his influence for the betterment of society. As his close friend and Prime Minister William Pitt (the Younger) wrote to him, “Surely the principles as well as the practice of Christianity are simple and lead not to meditation only, but to action.” Wilberforce heeded this advice, and he changed his world. I’m grateful for his terrific example of Christian conviction in the service of public leadership.
Expect more posts over the coming days on my hero, as I read Eric Metaxas’s fascinating biography, Amazing Grace: William Wilberforce and the Heroic Campaign to End Slavery (Harper Collins, 2007). For now, enjoy this brief excerpt on his realization that all his resources are not really his, but God’s, given to him for the benefit of others.
“[Upon his conversation] two changes manifested themselves right away: the first was a new attitude toward money, the second toward time… The Scriptures were plain and could not be gainsaid on this most basic point: all that was his – his wealth, his talents, his time – was not really his. It all belonged to God and had been given to him to use for God’s purposes and according to God’s will. God had blessed him so that he, in turn, might bless others, especially those less fortunate than himself (63).”
Orator, writer, historian, artist, statesman. By all accounts, Winston Churchill was a truly extraordinary man. His remarkable life has been the subject of enormous interest, spawning countless biographies and books on everything from leadership to painting (a favorite hobby of Churchill’s). In his short yet exceptional Churchill (Penguin, 2009), master historian Paul Johnson does us all a great service, providing a concise, vivid, and highly memorable account of one of the most fascinating figures of the twentieth century. Below are the five lessons Johnson provides from the life of Churchill, excerpted straight from the book.
1. Always aim high.
He did not always meet his elevated targets, but by aiming high he always achieved something worthwhile (163).
2. There is no substitute for hard work.
Mistakes he made, constantly, but there was never anything shoddy or idle about his work. He put tremendous energy into everything, and was able to do this because he conserved and husbanded his energy, too. There was an extraordinary paradox about his white, apparently flabby body and the amount of muscle power he put into life, always (164).
3. Never allow mistakes, disaster, accidents, illnesses, unpopularity, and criticism to get you down.
He had courage, the most important of all virtues, and its companion, fortitude. These strengths are inborn but they can also be cultivated, and Churchill worked on them all his life (164).
4. Don’t waste time and emotional energy on the meanness of life: recrimination, shifting the blame onto others, malice, revenge seeking, dirty tricks, spreading rumors, harboring grudges, waging vendettas.
Having fought hard, he washed his hands and went on to the next contest… There is nothing more draining and exhausting than hatred. And malice is bad for the judgment. Churchill loved to forgive and make up (165).
5. The absence of hatred leaves plenty of room for joy.
He liked to share his joy, and give joy…Churchill was happy with people… He showed the people a love of jokes, and was to them a source of many (165).