Evangelicals have played an active, frequently decisive role in American politics for decades. But a realignment seems to be in the works. More evangelicals are looking beyond the culture war issues and engaging in progressive movements for social justice and environmental protection. At the same time, liberals have long been distrustful of fundamentalism. How should the progressive movement change, if at all, to accommodate this cohort?
Daniela's take
I was raised an agnostic, have embraced atheism, and am pretty much entirely surrounded by other rejecters of religion. Throughout the 2008 presidential campaign I was awed—and not in a comfortable sense—by the way every candidate professed his or her adoration of Jesus Christ the Lord. Surely, I thought, they are merely being politically expedient. (This political expediency thesis makes it easier for me to understand how a man of Obama's intellect could say he believes in God despite being raised in a decidedly non-religious home and having remained non-religious until early adulthood.)
Despite the secular bubbles I travel in, I am not delusional about the existence of the god delusion in the United States. In this country—the most religious developed nation in the world —our dollar bills say it all: "In God We Trust."
I have no problem with others believing in Jesus, Allah, Xenu, Haley's Comet, what-have-you. I understand that religion is as old as mankind and even though I am certain we are trending toward secularization in the long-run, the United States is not there yet. If religion gets you through the night, the day, the life, so long as you don't impose it on me and the laws that govern my citizen life, then I absolutely respect your free-will choice to practice it just as I hope you respect my free-will choice to abstain from it.
All this meandering merely to say that if evangelicals and other believers want to work with progressives on issues ordinarily unassociated with the religious right, that's wonderful. Wonderful, indeed. But I don't believe that in order to attract their numbers, progressives have to pander to their religious beliefs. While it may be politically expedient in the short-term, it is neither politically nor morally expedient in the long-term to cater to fundamentalists' religious tenets, particularly not when those same beliefs have been often used to justify the stripping of others' rights.
If evangelicals are moving in our direction, it's because progressivism is inclusive where fundamentalism is exclusive. It would be wrong to exclude religious people from the progressive game but it also would be wrong to play by fundamentalism's failed rules and let religion referee.
Danish's take
Just to clarify, we're not talking about the band from Oklahoma, right? Because those dudes put out one heck of an album.
In all seriousness, this week's prompt appears to ask two questions: are Evangelicals becoming more progressive, and if so, what should progressives do to make these Evangelicals feel more at home? While I can claim no expertise with respect to Evangelical political beliefs (if such a monolithic thing exists), it does appear at least anecdotally that some Evangelicals are growing increasingly uncomfortable with the dittohead nature of their movement. However, I can answer the second question somewhat more conclusively: nothing. I don't mean that with any contempt, but I'll explain below why the idea of "accomodation" is anathema to me as an unaffiliated progressive.
I think of "progressive" as a label that is different from party affiliations like "Democrat" or "Republican." While candidates running for office may need to calculate centrist or mainstream positions and choose political stances based on focus groups with the hope of widening the tent, the political activists of the world should feel free to speak as openly and plainly as possible. Much like the avant-garde of the art world must serve as pioneers of the cultural terrain before more mainstream artists can reinterpret their work for a broader audience, so too must activists/progressives/ideologues advocate their positions in a vacuum void of public opinion. Once we figure out what we stand for and why, it's up to the people we choose to support for office to come up with a marketable political brand. In other words, if Evangelicals want to listen to our Steve Reich that's all well and good, but don't expect us to throw in some auto-tune to make it more palatable.
Jacob's take
PROGRESSIVES SHOULD BE SKEPTICAL OF ANY PROPOSAL TO EMBRACE RELIGIOUS FUNDAMENTALISM. These people just destroyed the Republican Party – why should anyone take them on board? That said, there may be reasons such proposals could survive skepticism. Evangelicals are having some success marketing their own fundamentalism in the current environmentally-conscious market, and I do appreciate this unusual alliance in order to save planet Earth. But for issues that don’t involve impending global disaster, I think fundamentalists should be left to brood over the End Times in the quiet comfort of their own organizations.
There is no question that when Christian organizations practice the actual moral teachings of Jesus Christ through various charitable activities and environmental activism, this is helpful to the recipients of said activities. Should the government finance said practices? Why on earth should it?
As I understand it, the presence of religious charitable organizations is an important justification for the horrors of free-market capitalism – a major constituent of a very small private sector of organizations that help those who are sacrificed to the creative destruction of a free-market system. So, why should they need any money from our secular government? The ‘moral sentiments’ of the capitalists ought to keep the churches bankrolled. Keep the government out of economics but subsidize the churches? Ridiculous.
Funding religious humanitarian activity gets us into some pretty awkward decisions about what churches can do with government money. And, as in the famous case of abstinence-based education for people dying of AIDS in Africa, funneling aid money through religious organizations can be fatally problematic.
I say we show our respect and appreciation for the charitable work of religious organizations by saying “Thank You!” After all, doesn’t something so cheap as money offend their lofty morals anyways?
Despite (or rather because of) his disturbingly adept ability to speak in tongues with his fellow Christians, I am put off by Obama’s ideas about religion. Obviously, I appreciate their sheer brilliant cunning. There was no question that his rhetoric was right for the time. But I hope that time will soon pass and religious fundamentalism will fall into another slumber, as it’s done before in America’s young history.
Jonah's take
Assuming this is true, who cares? I’m tired of Evangelicals. I’m tired of the way they close their eyes during Christian rock concerts, tired of their embroidered pillows with pithy heaven-y messages. But mostly I’m tired of politicians catering to and respecting (or pretending to) enthusiasts of magic and hocus-pocus.
The only reason we should tolerate evangelicals is if 1) they are actually progressive and 2) they got lots of dough. This whole Prop 8 situation certainly was a fundamentalist coup—just imagine if we had that kind of power on our side? Unfortunately that’s just more fairy tale hopefullery. It won’t happen.
When have evangelicals come out (with that frightening force and organization) for something positive? They only seem to come out against. The rule of thumb is that culture war issues are the only ones that will galvanize the crazy people. That’s why the clever Repubs constantly inflame them. You think environmental issues will jazz up armies of the righteously angry? Gross.
I can handle Evangelicals when they are angry and strange, hoisting Jesus to condemn minority groups—that's just standard stuff. But imagine if they wielded that same creepy smug God-love towards something positive? Cities would buckle under the sheer weight of their schmaltz.
Nathan's take
I spent three days a week this past semester discussing Faith and Globalization with Yale students from the business school, divinity school, law school, international relations program and college. This issue of religion's role in politics and public policy-making came up often. For the divinity school students and many of the other religious people in the class, modern liberalism had long alienated them, silencing their religious perspectives. For them, John Rawls' Political Liberalism was the epitome of the left's silencing of religious voices; his argument that one should only offer religious reasons for a position if they are backed up with other, commonly held values as justification limited debate and forced religious believers to artificially separate their private lives from their public ones.
I tend to come down on Rawls' side of this question. First, I don't think the government should be in the business of legislating to fit anyone's religious idea of right and wrong. If your argument only makes sense to members of your own faith, then it shouldn't be the basis for governing everyone. Second, it's hard to distinguish between political speech and policy action in a democracy. One might say, "Sure, we don't want our government behaving that way, but what's wrong with citizens arguing for a policy on the basis of religion?" I'd say there's nothing strictly wrong with it, but I wouldn't ever want any government acting on the basis of that argument. That makes religio-political argumentation rather odd -- permissible only if it doesn't actually convince anyone in power. But of course it can -- and does -- and that's what unsettles me.
So how can progressives welcome the new, evangelical members of our coalition? With eyes wide open. These folks are going to be helpful allies when it comes to specific issues, but in the long-run their governing philosophy is to be avoided. But how hypocritical is this -- to say on one hand, "Use religion to convince your rank and file to support mutual ends," and on the other, "Don't bring your religion into the public square"? More importantly, how dangerous is it to legitimize religio-political argumentation from the left? Once the left and right agree on religion's place in political life, will it ever leave?
When religion enters politics, it's not a one-way street. A congregation seeped in political debate is an ugly thing, and it's one reason that even in the extremely liberal churches I've attended, the ministers shy away from overtly political statements. There's a fascinating scene from the 2006 film, The Wind that Shakes the Barley, in which politics intrudes on the church in a literal sense, with an argument breaking out between the priest and a parishioner (you can watch it here). So while some religious liberals might wish for their religious points of view legitimized by fellow, secular progressives, it might not be long before they find the diry work of politics spoils the harmony of religious communities. Rawls wanted to keep religion out of politics; it might not be long before religion agrees.
Ottavio's take
The progressive movement should change in emphasis only. Let’s find and emphasize issues where the two movements agree, like social justice and environmental protection. With issues where there is a traditional disagreement, like abortion, let's emphasize the common ground that exists. Instead of emphasizing a woman's right to choose, we should emphasize the common goal of preventing unwanted pregnancies, for example. Avoiding ideological arguments and replacing them with pragmatic ones will more successfully court social conservative voters and more effectively make the progressive case.
This strategy has important electoral implications. In electoral contests broadening your appeal seems like a logical strategy to me. Remember, President Bush's first victory came on the back of campaign run on compassionate conservatism. If progressives can present themselves as candidates who social conservative voters are willing to lose too (people who will fight to reduce the number of abortions for example) then progressives will have a much easier time winning.
Sarah's take
I love when people look in the Bible and actually pick out the noble principles it contains, leaving aside the niggling examples of intolerance that are the vestige of Scripture’s human authorship. The Bible is at its best when it shows us at our best -- though, regrettably, it does contain fodder for our baser instincts. Ham, Onan, and Jezebel are just a few examples. I mean, here’s the Wikipedia summary of Jezebel’s downfall in Kings I and II:
“Jehu then confronts Jezebel in Jezreel and urges her eunuchs to kill the queen mother by throwing her out a window (defenestration). They comply, tossing her out the window and leaving her in the street to be eaten by dogs. Only Jezebel's skull, feet, and hands remained.”
The Old Testament is scary. But I digress. The point is that the Bible bursts with tolerance, forgiveness, love of one’s fellow man, and, hell, egalitarian economic and social policy. And it's a great thing when anyone -- evangelical or atheist -- can learn from it. So as for the "progressive evangelicals?" Let 'em in. Big tent.
Robin's take
Evangelicals have expressed a strong political agenda in recent history with involvement in Roe v. Wade, AIDS funding, and the culture wars of the 1990's. While they do hold influence in the political system and I can understand the strategy in catering to those demographics, let's be clear that culture and religion are two different things and the common attitude of cultural correctness expressed by Evangelicals and the Christian right is harmful to a healthy and diverse culture of contestation and growth. In no way should the progressives and/or the Democratic Party compromise its agendas to accommodate an organization that has made itself an enemy of culture.
"Piss Christ" is a color photograph by Andres Serrano depicting a crucifix submerged in a container of urine. After winning an award of $15,000 from the National Endowment of The Arts, it became the subject of a large controversy and served as a catalyst for the culture wars and a NEA budget cut from $180 million to $99.5 million in the early nineties. While the photograph's message is ambiguous and open to much interpretation, I personally believe there is no anti-Jesus or anti-Christian message embedded in the piece whatsoever. I will spare you an essay regarding these convictions and just say that it is quite labor intensive to get a hold of so much pristine urine in one container and that this artistsjust simply isn't that dumb to go through all of that careful work unless there was more at stake, conceptually, than creating a sacrilegious one-liner.
Evangelicals and most of the Christian right who are so dogmatic that it makes it impossible for them to comprehend anything outside of their aesthetic and intellectual norms condemned the piece as blasphemy -- end of conversation. Really? Is it because Jesus is in urine? We all release urine from our bodies everyday -- are we all sinners for doing so? Is urine unholy and unclean? (Fun fact: Urine is sterile.)
I use this hyperbole with a full understanding of American notions regarding urine as gross à la R. Kelly sex scandal. I only want to make clear how the Christian right is unable to participate in any critique, challenge or reexamination of cultural values in America. This often leads to their misunderstanding of cultural artifacts and poses a threat to the qualities that foster the development of any kind of culture and avant-garde.
Will's take
The issue of whether evangelicals, or other strong believers, can be accommodated in the progressive "big tent" is contingent on the left's willingness to appreciate and even respect the role religion plays in their life, despite their own divergent philosophies.
Whether or not a political realignment of believers is at hand we have yet to see, but there have been liberal Christians devoted to social justice since Jesus himself associated himself with the weak and poor of his society (if he actually did any of this, or existed at all, is a question I won't even begin to tackle here). More recently, Christian groups like Jim Wallis' Sojourners magazine have taken up the mantle of combining God and progressive thought.
But there remains a serious gap of understanding between the bulk of reason-loving leftists and their faithful neighbors. Many of my friends, especially those who I met in and since college, characterize themselves as atheists, or at least indifferent agnostics. A significant minority of them find religious feeling so strange and negative an influence as to defy explanation. Drawing on the writings of acclaimed atheists like Richard Dawkins, they see religious theory and practice as little more than a "God delusion" obfuscating the rational truth about the world.
While I respect and often agree with the ideas and the rationales of these thinkers and their supporters, my lived experience of religion has kept me from discounting its potential for good. I grew up regularly attending Presbyterian and Congregational churches with my family, even serving as a deacon (board of around 15 congregants who help guide the running of the church) at the Trinitarian Congregational Church in Concord, Mass.
Before I go on, I should say that I wouldn't characterize myself as a "believer" by any measure. Many of the sermons at my church didn't even talk about faith all that much. The focus was on introspection, reexamination of life and relationships, and fellowship. I found in my youth group an open community, devoted to valuing each other as humans inherently worthy of such consideration, not as the disparate sets of talents and flaws we each carried through our high school hallways.
This was not a particularly "religious" group. The point was not, as in many similar evangelical groups (Young Life, in particular, which had a strong presence in our town), to deepen our personal relationship with Jesus. But we did meet every week to play games, talk about important things in our lives, go camping and hiking, and generally build a friend network outside the Balkanized world of the cafeteria. These were not my closest friends (many of them I seldom saw outside the group), but without them my adolescence would have been a far more difficult period.
If there was one coherent spiritual strain that resonated especially strongly with me then, it was a hearty skepticism regarding man's perfectability (one that many skeptics of religion would be well served to carry into their often rhapsodic musings on science and progress). One regular prayer at my church, one that has always stuck with me in the years past my frequent churchgoing, contains the line: "[g]ive me the courage to venture normal love with average people." I found, and still found, something refreshing and bold in the idea of it taking courage to acknowledge the battles you can't win, and the challenge of forging a good life out of imperfect material. The starkness of the task reminded me of Kierkegaard, but with sober judgment taking the role of his fear and trembling faith.
Progressives, and all of us, really, could use a dose of this kind of humility. Grant people their own inconsistencies and irrationalities, their failings and hypocrisies, from evangelicals to economists, and hope that they will accept you for yours. Once you accept this, politics can go back to the delicate dance of compromise and coalition-building, and past the confused resentment of irreconcilable worldviews.
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