A Quaker Reflects on the Fourth of July
On
Independence Day, one’s mind is naturally drawn to political questions. In a recent post (June, 2018) I argued that
Christians ought to welcome “deep difference” in a society with many religious
and cultural groups. We should not be
surprised to discover we live as moral minorities; we will find that many other
people disagree with our beliefs on important matters. There is no “moral majority” in our country;
rather, there are many different groups whose beliefs differ. Matthew Kaemignk says we ought to acknowledge
these facts and think as pluralists. We ought to support every group’s freedom to join
in public debate. Since Jesus is king,
we are not. Even if we think our policy
positions are right; it is not our job to compel others to agree with us. We may vigorously try to persuade others in
open dialogue.
I worry
that in recent public discourse civil debate has greatly declined. I wrote a book about this, The Virtue of Civility in the Practice of
Politics, published in 2002. For
reasons rooted in philosophical history, I predicted dark days for civility in
the United States. Sadly, it seems my
prediction is coming true. Political
campaigns in this country focus more and more on energizing “base” voters
rather than trying to persuade the undecided.
Once in office, legislators rarely compromise on hot-button issues,
fearing an attack from extremists within their own party.
And it’s
not just the politicians. Many studies
have demonstrated that Americans tend to listen to the voices—on TV, internet
sites, newspapers, and radio stations—they already agree with. They rehearse the slogans and arguments of
their favorite talking heads, perhaps picking up choice points to deconstruct
the arguments of the other side.
Increasingly, Americans simply do not listen to the other side.
It’s not
just them; it’s us. I’m speaking as a
Christian to other Christians. I don’t
listen very often to political views I disagree with. And when I do listen, too often I am mentally
formulating replies rather than trying to truly hear another person.
I am not
arguing that all views are equal. I
firmly oppose some political positions, and I am glad to give my reasons for
those positions. Nevertheless, I must
practice civility toward everyone in the political sphere. Let me give a personal example.
In 2016, I
quit the Republican Party, though I had been a member my whole adult life. I thought Donald Trump was clearly unfit to
be president, and my conscience revolted against membership in a party that
would accept Trump as its standard-bearer.
I don’t need to rehearse all my reasons now; you can find my essay “Why
I Quit the Republican Party” on this blog (storymeaning.blogspot.com) in the
2016 archives. In the 18 months since he
took office, Trump has been almost as bad a president as I expected. Now: how should I treat Donald Trump?
At first
glance, this might seems a strange question, since I never meet Trump, don’t
talk to him, and don’t even read his Twitter feed. But I do talk about him, perhaps in a class or in everyday conversation. Do I treat him civilly in the way I
speak? Someone might point out that on
various occasions Mr. Trump has not spoken civilly or truthfully about other
people. I don’t think that justifies
repaying him in kind.
In his first
letter to Timothy, the apostle Paul wrote: “I urge, then, first of all, that
requests, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for everyone—for kings
and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all
godliness and holiness.” When we read
these words, we need to remember historical context. The authorities for whom Paul urged
Christians to pray served the Roman
Empire. We’re not talking democracy
or human rights here. This is the empire
that backed Herod the Great and employed Pontius Pilate to rule Judea. When it comes to outright wickedness, our
current political leaders don’t really measure up. And yet Paul wanted Christians to pray for
these people.
So: do I
pray for Donald Trump? If I say I don’t
understand how Christians could vote for him, I should also say I don’t
understand how Christians can fail to pray for him.
The truth
is I don’t pray for the president as much as I should. I don’t have to like his trade policies to
ask God to draw him toward justice and righteousness. I don’t have to endorse his statements
(treating women as sex objects, for example) to ask God to bless his
family. I can pray that his foreign
policies lead to peace (for example, in relation to North Korea) even if I worry
that his words could lead to war.
What I saying is not about President Trump. I could illustrate my point with some other
leader, e.g. Governor Brown. Christians
should practice civility toward all their political opponents. The Bible plainly says we should pray for
those in authority.
On this
July 4, in a season of much political discord, I resolve to do better. I won’t be a perfect citizen, that’s
sure. But I can acknowledge the fact
that I am a moral minority. I can
participate vigorously in public debates with the hope of inviting others to
join me, but without compelling anyone to agree. And I can pray for God to help persons in
political authority.
