Persuasive disciples, not anarchic disrupters

George Weigel

We are living through a dangerous moment in our national life, of an intensity and potential for destruction unseen since 1968. Then, a teenager, I watched U.S. Army tanks patrol the streets of Baltimore around the African-American parish where I worked. Now, a Medicare card carrier, I’m just as concerned about the fragility of the Republic and the rule of law.

A uniquely vile presidential campaign has been followed by a post-election rejectionism that conjures up images of 1860. Electoral refuseniks who cannot abide the verdict rendered on November 8 put on a vile display in Washington the day after the inauguration – and this despite President Obama’s plea for civility and a dignified transfer of power. The new administration has not helped matters with its own tendency toward raw-meat rhetoric, seemingly aimed at keeping its electoral base in a state of permanent outrage.

In today’s deeply divided America, the public debate is too often being framed by those who substitute invective for argument while demonstrating a visceral contempt for normal democratic political and legal process. Unless reason reasserts itself over passion, the potential for short term chaos is great and the risk of long-term damage even greater: an ongoing cycle of resentment, bitterness, and revenge that will lead to more of the gratuitous violence that was seen on the streets of Washington this past January 21.

Americans once knew a different way. In the 1950s and early 1960s, the civil rights movement promoted, not rage and disruption, but nonviolent civil disobedience, accepting the penalties imposed under what protesters deemed unjust laws in order to awaken consciences to the injustice of those laws. The canonical text here is Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s brilliant Letter from Birmingham Jail. In it, King married a Gandhian theory of nonviolent direct action to Thomas Aquinas’s understanding of the relationship of moral law to civil law, calmly but forcefully explaining his cause and his actions to skeptical fellow-clergymen who were critical of his methods. The Letter is thoughtful, measured, and well worth re-reading – not least because some religious leaders today are taking an opposite tack.

These leaders may imagine that their calls for “disruption,” of the sort Saul Alinsky described in Rules for Radicals, stand in continuity with King’s Letter from Birmingham Jail. They do not. They appeal to outrage, not to the people’s instinct for justice. They risk little or nothing, whereas King risked everything. Their program, such as it is, calls for resistance and defiance rather than correction and civic renewal. There is little in their message about “dialogue,” a key theme of Pope Francis; but there is a lot of hot rhetoric about impeding the enforcement of the laws, in terms weirdly reminiscent of the states-rights or “nullification” theory of John C. Calhoun, recently disowned by Yale University for his defense of slavery.

I do not raise these concerns as an apologist for the present administration. I publicly opposed the nomination of Mr. Trump and did not vote for him (or his opponent) last November. A clever e-mail correspondent spoke for me and perhaps many others when he asked, on November 9, “Do the Germans have a word for ‘euphoric dread’?” (They don’t, alas.) The administration has made decisions and appointments I applaud, and decisions and appointments I deplore. I often find the rhetoric from the White House a degradation of what we used to call “the public discourse.” But that fevered talk has been quite matched by the administration’s opponents in a public scream-in.

In a volatile situation like this, the task of religious leaders is not to imitate Saul Alinsky or to mimic Lenin’s strategy of heightening the contradictions. The task of religious leaders is to call their people to live citizenship as discipleship, which in this instance means using the arts of persuasion rather than the anarchic tactics of disruption to do the work of justice. Discipleship will always involve speaking truth to power. But Christian discipleship is a matter of speaking that truth and attempting to persuade others of it, not barking epithets.

Order is fragile. Order is gravely threatened by incivility, from any source. Whatever their politics – left, right, alt-left or alt-right – those contributing to that incivility and that assault on order are playing with fire, which means they’re behaving irresponsibly. Their counsel should be ignored.

COMING UP: Homelessness, party-style

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I grew up in what you might call a genetically-Democratic family, but one in which partisan heterodoxy was not uncommon. My parents voted for Dwight D. Eisenhower twice, for Richard M. Nixon in 1960, and for the occasional Republican candidate for U.S. Senate from Maryland. But they were registered Democrats and, when I gained the franchise, it would have seemed somehow unnatural for me to register as a Republican. It would also have been stupid, in that Maryland was already en route to becoming one of the most reliably blue states on the map; and if one wanted a say in anything, it was going to be through the medium of the Democratic primaries.

In my early professional life in Seattle, I worked with and for Republican and Democratic representatives and senators and voted in a happily bipartisan way. But when I returned to Maryland in 1984, I had no hesitation about registering as a Democrat, despite admiring (and voting for) Ronald Reagan. (In fact, I haven’t cast a vote for a Democratic presidential nominee since 1980, when I voted for Jimmy Carter, but was delighted to see him defeated). Still, I told myself that I had to maintain my Democratic registration if I were to have any electoral leverage, however minor, in the Free State.

Declaring myself a Democrat, however, became impossible in principle after the 1992 Democratic National Convention. There, the last senior Democratic office-holder with whom I ever worked, Pennsylvania governor Robert Casey, was denied an opportunity to speak by the nascent Clinton Machine. Why? Because the twice-elected governor of a key state with a rich lode of Electoral College votes was ardently and intelligently pro-life. And pro-life people were heretics – misogynistic outliers to be expunged from the party’s national life – in the Democratic Party of Bill and Hillary Clinton.

So it was with a combination of relief and chagrin that I went to the appropriate county office and changed my registration, declaring myself a Republican – and getting a look from the clerk as if I’d declared myself a member of the Klan.

I now wonder if I’m about to make that journey again: not, of course, to revert to a Democratic Party that has ever more mindlessly arranged its affairs around an absolutist commitment to the sexual revolution and its relentless assault on traditional culture, but to declare myself the 21st-century equivalent, in party terms, of a stateless-person. The Democratic Party once left me. Now, the Republican Party has left me by embracing Donald Trump, a man utterly unfit by experience, intellect, or character to be President of the United States (a trifecta of disqualifiers, I hasten to add, that I would also apply to Mrs. Clinton).

I shall undoubtedly vote for Republicans down-the-ballot in November. Leading Republicans still promote an agenda of national renewal that seems to me more reflective of Catholic social doctrine than anything on offer from the Democrats. Prominent Republicans are still far more likely than prominent Democrats to defend religious freedom and to underscore the importance of the free associations of civil society in a healthy democracy, thus affirming the core Catholic social-ethical principle of subsidiarity. The pro-life agenda remains alive in the Republican Party; its lethal opposite is the declaratory policy of Democrats, ruthlessly enforced within the party. And for all that Republicans have failed in addressing the legitimate concerns of those unable to make it in a globalized economy driven by the IT revolution, I still think Republicans are more likely to come up with creative solutions to the chasm in our society between those who can prosper and those who can’t cope, than are Democrats chained to the notion that legislating further, deeper dependency on the state is the humane way forward.

But I cannot bring myself to cast a vote for Donald Trump for president, even under the rubric of playing strategic electoral defense. And while I hope the Republican Party repudiates Trumpism in the future, you’ll know where to find me if it doesn’t: among those who, taking their cues from Catholic social doctrine, will try to forge a new political instrument for advancing the truths in which we believe – and on which the future of the Republic depends.