“Not My President”: Or So He Keeps Telling Me

I can honestly say that I’ve never experienced a week like this. And I cut my political teeth in 1974 watching the Watergate hearings.

A remarkable speech, disputes over crowd size, arguments with Mexico, rogue twitter accounts, an inflammatory official twitter account, trial balloons that fizzle, executive orders that suddenly change the face of US policy, removing ACA signup ads, millions of alleged fraudulent votes, and an immigration ban.

Several of my friends have been struggling to figure out how Christians should respond to this onslaught of events. What is the meaning of Romans 13? What is the nature of our political theology? Too often, their FaceBook commenters ask “what were you doing when Obama was president?” — which is remarkably selective memory but I’ll let that go.

But there was a piece of Trump’s interview with David Muir on ABC that has been stuck in my brain. They were discussing the controversy over the crowd size at the inauguration.

PRESIDENT TRUMP: Not you personally but your network — and they tried to demean the speech. And I know when things are good or bad. A poll just came out on my inauguration speech which was extraordinary that people loved it. Loved and liked. And it was an extraordinary poll.
DAVID MUIR: I guess that’s what I’m getting at. You talked about the poll, the people loving your inaugural speech and the size of your …
PRESIDENT TRUMP: No, because you bring it up.

DAVID MUIR: See, I — I’m not interested in the inaugural crowd size. I think the American people can look at images side by side and decide for themselves. I am curious about the first full day here at the White House, choosing to send the press secretary out into the briefing room, summoning reporters to talk about the inaugural crowd size. Does that send a message to the American people that that’s — that’s more important than some of the very pressing issues?
PRESIDENT TRUMP: Part of my whole victory was that the men and women of this country who have been forgotten will never be forgotten again. Part of that is when they try and demean me unfairly ’cause we had a massive crowd of people. We had a crowd — I looked over that sea of people and I said to myself, “Wow.”
And I’ve seen crowds before. Big, big crowds. That was some crowd. When I looked at the numbers that happened to come in from all of the various sources, we had the biggest audience in the history of inaugural speeches. I said the men and women that I was talking to who came out and voted will never be forgotten again. Therefore I won’t allow you or other people like you to demean that crowd and to demean the people that came to Washington, D.C., from faraway places because they like me. But more importantly they like what I’m saying.
DAVID MUIR: I just wanna say I didn’t demean anyone who was in that crowd. We did coverage for hours …
PRESIDENT TRUMP: No, I think you’re demeaning by talking the way you’re talking. I think you’re demeaning. And that’s why I think a lot of people turned on you and turned on a lot of other people. And that’s why you have a 17 percent approval rating, which is pretty bad.

I could spent time disputing the “biggest audience” claim. I could rebut the claims on the positive polling on the speech. The poll Trump mentions is a Politico/Morning Consult poll and Politico reports: “Trump got relatively high marks on his Friday address, with 49 percent of those who watched or heard about the speech saying it was excellent or good, and just 39 percent rating it as only fair or poor.” Frankly, in comparison to previous inaugurals, those are horrible numbers.

What really got my attention is what I highlighted above. Trump has proclaimed himself president of the people who were forgotten yet came out and voted for him, who traveled from their small towns to Washington to be there for this historic event, who filled the venues were he campaigned. This is not me.

To not privilege their perspective is to demean them and he won’t stand for that (and I guess the ratings are supposed to reflect that). But he has no problem demeaning my positions.

Take the outrageous claims about up to three million fraudulent votes, none of which could possibly have voted for him but all must have voted for Clinton. Besides the fact that other than inaccurate voter registration rolls (which is what the oft-cited Pew study was about), there is no evidence of voter impersonation (Trump commented on “dead people are registered to vote and voting, which they do” — which Trevor Noah called the worst episode of Walking Dead ever). Trump also misrepresents comments made by Obama in 2008 about election fraud (and he cites it as being in Chicago when it was in Kent, Ohio).

Trump started the inaugural speech by calling out the Washington Establishment. But his later comments make clear that there is only one kind of forgotten American — those that voted for him and his “tremendous movement”.

The questions about dual registration prompted me to do what Bannon and Spicer couldn’t be troubled to do — check my past registrations. I learned that I’m no longer registered to vote in either California or Oregon.

But I’m a doctorally trained sociologist who tends to vote Democratic. In Trump’s eyes, I’m not forgotten, I’m establishment.

I’m a white evangelical male who votes Democratic (which the media and politicians alike ignore).

But whenever Trump repeats his concern for the Forgotten, whenever he advances the personal policies he advocated (which he does because he feels he promised them he would), when he demeans the press, when he gags federal agencies, he has said that people like me and my approach to civic life don’t matter.

He is going to be the President of “His People” and I’m not part of the equation.

He’s told me that He’s Not My President, he’s Theirs. And I’m just expected to just go along for the ride because my side lost.

Idealism, Politics, and Hope: Michael Wear’s Reclaiming Hope

At some point, I’ll find enough perspective to write a reflection on the 2016 presidential election. For now, I’m just struggling with the uncertainty on a new administration where every day brings new questions and puzzles. It’s really hard for a policy wonk like me to figure out what’s likely to happen in the coming months. So many things are up in the air: health care, international trade, the Middle East, market stability, transparent government. And it’s only day three.

The afternoon before the inauguration (best ever! record crowds!) I was pleased when the mail carrier delivered Michael Wear’s Reclaiming Hope: Lessons Learned in the Obama White House About the Future of Faith in America. I finished it last night.

As a college student, Michael got to meet then-Senator Obama at a Winter meeting of the DNC. Michael introduced himself as a Christian who believed that Obama should run for president and that he could win (based in no small part on that rousing 2004 DNC keynote). He offered to join the campaign when the day came and badgered just the right amount to be taken up on the offer.

Being an evangelical Christian gave Michael insights into a segment of the American electorate that too many Democrats had been tone deaf toward. He actually wrote some background material that Obama used when having his Saddleback interview with Rich Warren. After Obama’s victory months later, Michael was invited to join the administration in the Office of Faith-Based and Neighborhood Partnership (OFBNP — a reworking of the office Bush had launched) where he spent the next four years.

Most of the book summarizes the work of the OFBNP, both positive and negative. It shows the difficulty of developing allies within the religious community (especially among evangelicals and Catholics). It shows the difficulty of working in the midst of administration colleagues who were functional religious illiterates. He tells a story of designing a policy document on faith and economics titled “Economic Fairness and the Least of These” and his colleagues couldn’t figure out who “these” referred to. On the evangelical side, he had to navigate prominent evangelical leaders who wouldn’t believe that Obama was a Christian (in spite of his repeated testimonies to the contrary) and actively worked against the president.

As might be expected, the tensions between the OFBNP and the broader community were particularly high around issues of abortion, contraception, and same-sex marriage. It’s not that other issues (like poverty or human trafficking) weren’t important. It’s just that the trigger issues seemed to overwhelm everything else.

Michael, true to his job description, tried to make clear how these policy initiatives would be read by various religious groups (most notably Evangelicals and Catholics). Too often, these concerns did not sway the general sentiment of the political shop. Too many decisions were made in light of protecting the interest of various constituent groups and not in building bridges to new populations. This was especially true in the run-up to the 2012 re-election campaign.

In reading the book, you sense Michael’s early idealism give way to frustration (but, to his credit, never cyncism). His last day with the Obama administration was Inauguration Day 2013. He closes the book with reflections on the Christian notion of Hope and how that changes the political calculus (especially when compared to views expressed by people like Ta-nehesi Coates).

In finishing the book, I found myself with several questions (which I hope Michael might address).

  1. How can faith groups work with both parties in pursuit of the common good? This strikes me as incumbent upon those religious groups to reach out to political entities from all perspectives as an alternative to being coopted by one political party. Even if one party isn’t open to persuasion at the moment, it’s the prophetic thing to do. We aren’t called to win every argument but to bear witness to the Kingdom.
  2. How do political entities find common ground with evangelical groups on hot topic issues when the faith group is likely to see these as winner-take-all contests? Michael addresses the issue of reducing the need for abortion through adoption and family support. But since abortion is a bright-line issue for evangelicals it feels like anything short of overturning Roe is a compromise of principles. It would be nice if evangelicals and Catholics could celebrate that abortions are at their lowest level since Roe was enacted. Is it asking too much to recognize that demonizing abortion advocates as “baby killers” might not lead to the best governmental policy? Is it too much to ask that contraception coverage be included in insurance programs so that people don’t avoid contraception due to cost concerns? If we are concerned about the common welfare (Michael has a nice passage about Jeremiah’s concern for Babylon), can’t religious groups give some ground?
  3. How do political entities reach out to a variety of constituent groups, religious and non-religious, and explain their principles rather than pitting one group against another? The contraceptive mandate is a good example. There are those groups for whom requiring they cover contracteption become quickly problematic (especially for Catholics). A smart political shop would recognize where the pitfalls lie and figure out how to navigate them for the common good without exploiting particular groups because they are less numerous. Michael describes the number of “final” solutions to the contraceptive mandate — if political folks had more religious savvy, they would have gotten to the no-sign off, insurance provided, solution sooner. (I’m still not sure what to do with those who claim that some contraceptives were abortifacients in spite of significant evidence to the contrary.) At the very least, exempting Plan B might have been a reasonable accomodation that would have still vastly expanded contraceptive coverage and thereby improve health outcomes and rates of unwed births.
  4. How do the shifts described in Robert Jones’ The End of White Christian America change how political and religious groups will work together? If White Christians are a shrinking share of the American landscape, how do we approach religious freedom questions? As Michael observes (as do many others), religious freedom is only meaningful if it is extended to include all religious groups, including the non religious. Far better to see these changes as a reality of modern political life rather than defining them only in terms of a loss of Christian America. The 2016 election saw strong nostalgic sentiment (MAGA!) but our political work will take place in this new reality not some earlier imagined one.
  5. How can we create space for people to have complex views? Michael tells the story of how Louis Giglio was inited to pray at the second inaugural but was then attacked by activists who took offense at comments Giglio had made about LGBT folks nearly two decades before. It kept the spotlight away from the work Giglio had done to advance the cause of human trafficking, especially among evangelicals. Somehow, we need to get away from proof-texting everyone’s comments (although I’ll give anyone a pass who re-posts Trump’s tweets about protesting the 2012 election!). Nobody toes the party line (yes, that’s the word, not “tows”) all the way along. And some may shift position over time or even hold a position privately until it’s politically prudent to advance the position. None of us are 100% consistent over the long-haul.
  6. What will the shifting views of young evangelicals (like Michael) mean for our political future? Today’s millennials, including millennial evangelicals, are committed to issues of justice, diversity, and equal protection. They are put off by overly strident political talk that repeats old tropes. They are idealistic but repelled by politics as usual. I loved Michael’s defense of the two-party system and his call for engagement. Rather than abandoning party, he calls his readers to dive in and attempt to moderate the extreme partisanship within the parties. This gives me cause for the hope where Michael ends the book. My students would very much resonate with the strategies he lays out in his final chapter.

The book was a wonderful read for a political junkie. It fed my desire for inside knowledge and for seeing the sausage get made. I shared in Michael’s frustrations and still end up in an idealistic place.

Politics has always been one of my imagined alternative careers if I weren’t in academia (journalism is the other). Maybe it’s not too late, even for me.

Inauguration Week Lessons from Nebuchadnezzar 

One of the lingering news stories following November’s election revolves around the question, “How did 81% of White Evangelicals support Donald Trump?” There are many answers to this question (I’ve tried to contribute my share). These range from people being staunchly anti-Clinton, to focus on abortion jurisprudence, to why evangelicals like strong male leaders, to concerns of nostalgia voters, to fears about incursions on religious freedom, to the idea that this relationship may be largely spurious (because both identifying evangelical and Republicanism are correlated with other factors — this is the argument I’ve been advancing).

There is, of course, another answer — God did it and evangelicals were open to God’s leading. As the Religion News Service reported yesterday, folks believe God must have been involved because a) Trump beat 17 challengers against the odds (although I’d point out that his polling all the way along made those odds better than supporters imagine) and b) the national polls were so wrong (except they weren’t although some state polls didn’t pick up late movement).

“God raised up, I believe, Donald Trump,” said former U.S. Rep. Michele Bachmann after he won the GOP nomination. “God showed up,” the Rev. Franklin Graham said to cheers at a post-election rally.

For those who share this view, Trump’s victory was nothing short of miraculous, especially given that he beat out 16 others in the Republican primaries — some of them evangelical Christians with long political resumes.

“For me, that has to be providence. That has to be the hand of God,” said Paula White, an evangelical pastor Trump has tapped to pray at his inauguration.

God raised up Trump in the same way that God used other Old Testament figures, whether religious leaders or pagans. Today, Sarah Pulliam Bailey and Kirkwood An posted a quiz on the Washington Post “Acts of Faith” page allowing readers to guess which Biblical figures President-Elect Trump had been compared to. They range from (spoiler alert!) King David to King Jehosophat to King Cyrus to Daniel to Paul. I somewhat facetiously responded via Twitter that perhaps Nebuchadnezzar should have been on the list. Then I went back and read the first four chapters of the book of Daniel and was amazed.

We usually read the book of Daniel from Daniel’s perspective and not from Nebuchadnezzar’s. It’s useful to reverse that perspective in light of our contemporary events (it’s not the capital dome in the picture to the left but its fun to imagine).

The first chapter begins with King Nebuchadnezzar overrunning Judah and taking the residents captive. More importantly, he takes sacred items from the Temple to use for his own benefit (using religious language or props has been part of many political campaigns!). He selects Daniel and his friends as leaders in training and mandates a diet that the people are to follow. This puts Daniel in a position to interpret the coming dreams and sets the three Hebrew children up for their coming confrontation with the fiery furnace.

Nebuchadnezzar has his first dream at the beginning of chapter two. He calls his advisors in to tell him what the dream had been and what it means. He expects them to be able to understand what’s in his mind. (Remember, Kellyanne Conway, said that we needed to not pay attention to Trump’s words but his heart). The King threatens any of his advisors who cannot respond to his demands that they “will be chopped up and your houses torn down”.  Lesson One: Don’t put your people in impossible situations.

They tell him that what he asks just isn’t that simple. So the King gives orders to kill every wise man in the kingdom, including Daniel and friends. Because, I suppose, only the King knows best.

Daniel, realizing that time is short, prays to God that the dream and its meaning be revealed. He intervenes on the King’s execution order and interprets the dream. The first dream involves “a huge and terrifying statue” made of gold, silver, and bronze. He goes on to interpret the dream as it relates to the coming generations of rulers on Babylon. Nebuchadnezzar likes this answer and promotes Daniel and his friends. He recognizes God above all else, at least for the moment.

But by the beginning of chapter three, that changes dramatically. Nebuchadnezzar orders a statue to be built in his likeness. It is to be made of gold and measures 90 feet high and 9 feet wide. It is truly a monument to his vanity. Everyone is expected to bow down and worship whenever the music plays.

The president-elect likes big flashy things. And his new advisor Omarosa, Director of African-American Outreach, actually said that Trump’s critics would “bow down and worship him“. Lesson Two: It’s not about you.

Of course, Daniel and friends won’t bow down. That leads to the confrontation in front of the fiery furnace. The King is angered that they would defy him and demanded immediate action. When the three Hebrew children are saved, Nebuchadnezzar again praises God. Although he’s still shaky on the concept, since he suggests that anyone who goes against their God should be chopped to pieces and their houses torn down (this seems to be a pattern with Nebuchadnezzar). Lesson Three:  Sometimes repentance means really changing.

Chapter Four involves Nebuchadnezzar’s second dream. This time he shares with Daniel what it’s about. The mighty tree seemed to grow to the heavens and then a voice came from Heaven ordering that it be cut down. Then “this ruler” will live like the animals, having the mind of an animal for seven years. He will be struck from power until he “learns that God Most High controls all earthly kingdoms and chooses their rulers.” Daniel ends their interaction by encouraging Nebuchadnezzar to “start living right” and “have mercy on those who are mistreated”. Lesson Four: With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility (for others).

At the end of the chapter, Nebuchadnezzar has gone through his animal phase and returned to rule. He closes his letter as follows:

“Praise and honor the King who rules from heaven! Everything he does is honest and fair, and he can shatter the power of those who are proud.”

The story of King Nebuchadnezzar seems to be a story about self-sufficiency, hubris, power, and vengeance. Those traits do not serve him well and leave him exiled from his throne. He does come to his senses at the end, although the family reign ends at the beginning of chapter five as Belshazzar is replaced with King Cyrus.

If some see God’s hand in Trump’s election, they would do well to study these chapters from Daniel very carefully. They remind us all that power is a fleeting thing and depends less on the strength of the leader than his or her compassion.

Religion is more complicated than our reporting suggests

Two weeks ago, I wrote a piece reflecting on the question of how religious people were characterized in the recent election. Michael Wear had an intriguing interview with Emma Green in the Atlantic. Right before that, Ruth Graham had written on how white evangelicals didn’t support Clinton. In my piece, I pointed out the role that an evangelical infrastructure played in creating that context. Recent reporting has me exploring that observation more closely.

The PRRI group released data this week in anticipation of President Obama’s Farewell speech (which was an outstanding statement on the nature of civic democracy!). They summarized the data in the following chart.


Just 24% of white evangelical protestants had a favorable view of Obama, 1% more than those identifying as conservatives. I somewhat facetiously suggested on social media that maybe it was time to stop thinking of these as two distinct groups. Data has shown that white evangelical protestants are the most republican religious group, most nostalgic, and most opposed to a variety of social issues like same-sex marriage.

I’ve been arguing throughout this election cycle that it’s quite possible that this close relationship between white evangelical protestants and conservatives is really a spurious relationship. It may be that region, attitudes toward abortion, non-urban, and socioeconomic status may be driving both evangelical commitment and political conservatism.

The above mentioned infrastructure makes it more likely that the white evangelical protestant group is seen as THE religious group in America. They have the publications, the conferences, and the spokespeople who use broadcast and social media to advance their agenda and make it clear that they are the largest religious block in America.

That statistical claim is true, barely. Self-identified evangelicals make up a larger share of the population than other groups. The 2014 Pew Landscape survey  shows 25.4% white evangelicals, 22.8% unaffiliated, 20.8% Catholic, 14.7% mainline protestant, and 6.5% Black protestant.

Not only is that evangelical infrastructure focused on defining what “religious voters” care about but it also focuses on the maintenance of the definition of who is Really Christian. This has created a context in which the focus of politicians and press has been on a specific subset of the white evangelical grouping.

On Monday, the Religion News Service reported this story titled “Christian groups express ‘grave concerns’ about Trump agenda, appointments“. It reports how the National Council of Churches (among others) had released a report strongly criticizing the new administration’s positions as backward thinking, discriminatory, and counter to scripture.

I was struck by the title of the article because I realized that many in the white evangelical protestant infrastructure believe that the NCC and its members aren’t “real Christians” but only adopting cultural trappings of religion in their political pursuits. Has the NCC every been invited to speak at the Values Voters Summit?

As the RNS story explains, the NCC membership includes “6 of the 10 largest denominations in the United States.” They are mainline churches but are still a vital part of the story of religion and civic life.

Another story in RNS documented President Obama‘s positions on faith over the course of his presidency. It’s a remarkable story, especially when contrasted with the dismissive views of many on the right (that’s even ignoring all the “secret Muslim” claims). Contrast this story with the 24% approval rating and you have to scratch you head. Part of the answer there may be that President Obama takes a big tent approach to faith where white evangelicals may be using a much narrower screen.

Last week there was a story in the Washington Post reporting on mainline churches and what their pastors believed. Written by one of the researchers of a Canadian study, it explains how there is a correlation between conservative theology (especially that of the pastor) and church growth. The research  involves 22 mainline congregations in Ontario. Of these, 13 were declining and 9 were growing. The research shows a correlation between the theological orthodoxy of the pastor/congregation and the likelihood that the church is growing. Demographics play a part but orthodoxy appears to be key.

Given the state of reporting on mainline religion, I’d expect people might be a little surprised to see that 41% of a sample of mainline congregations is growing or that overwhelming majorities of all congregants say they’ve committed their lives to Christ. (I do need to observe that the majority of US mainline protestants have an unfavorable view of Obama and voted for Trump — my point is that we don’t tend to talk about them at all).

I recently watched a remarkable presentation by Rev. William Barber, the North Carolina black pastor of a Disciples of Christ church who has been the leader of the Moral Mondays movement. He has a classical civil rights blend of a prophetic religious voice and a political engagement like we saw in MLK. In the same fashion, I realized that the politicians and the press have not seen those perspectives as representing religion in the public square.

In a rapidly changing society, it is important that religion continues to a vital part of our public engagement. Democrats and media figures do need to be more versed in how that religion is expressed as an important part of modern life. But its also important that we understand religion in its complexity and not limiting that view to one segment. It’s also important that the religious groups model the diversity that actually exists.

In closing, I commend two articles making similar points. This piece by Roger Olson raises concerns about the “The ‘Disappearing Middle’ in American Political and Religious Life“. This piece by Philip Yancey looks for ways of “Bridging the Gap”. He closes his piece with this reflection on Francis Shaeffer:

Toward the end of his life, as he saw the word evangelical become synonymous with political lobbying, Schaeffer sometimes wondered what he had helped set loose.  He based The Mark of the Christian on some of Jesus’ last words to his disciples: “A new command I give you: Love one another.  As I have loved you, so you must love one another.  By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

Schaeffer added, “Love—and the unity it attests to—is the mark Christ gave Christians to wear before the world.  Only with this mark may the world know that Christians are indeed Christians and that Jesus was sent by the Father.…It is possible to be a Christian without showing the mark, but if we expect non-Christians to know that we are Christians, we must show the mark.”  I see that as the biggest challenge facing committed Christians in the new year.


Your Annual Reminder about College Debt Hype

One of the things that makes writing about private higher education difficult is that most media coverage goes for the extravagant story without providing proper context. Often this takes the form of cherry-picking some reality from an Ivy League school and presuming that it is representative of all colleges. Other times it comes from looking at aggregate data without carefully deconstructing what that data is telling us.

I was reminded of this right before Christmas when the Washington Post wrote an editorial titled “It’s Time for a Reality Check on College Debt“. They were reporting on a commencement speech that Federal Reserve Chair Janet Yellen had given at the University of Baltimore.The editorial writers offer the following:

Ms. Yellen’s words were a useful corrective to the view, expressed at great but tendentious length by presidential candidates this year, that student loans are “crushing” America’s young people — and that a major federal initiative is needed to correct that. In fact, debt distress is disproportionately concentrated in certain segments of the market, including professional schools and for-profit four-year colleges.

That’s a nice line, but the professional media has certainly contributed its share of debt-crushing stories with titles of “Is College Worth It?” Still, I’m pleased that the Post paid attention to what Ms. Yellen had to say.

In her speech, Yellen made clear that earnings for college graduates now outstrip those of people with a high school degree by 70% today compared to 20% 35 years ago. To be sure, much of this is due to the ways our economic transformations have disproportionately harmed high school graduates or those with some college.

According to the the recent national data, the total amount of student debt has reached $1.25 trillion. On the other hand, the median monthly payment for recent college students (aged 20-30) is just over $200 a month.

So where does the big debt come from? As Ms. Yellen points out, 40% of student debt is incurred in graduate or professional degrees. Other data sources put another 18% of the debt at the doorstep of for-profit colleges. Both of these institutional forms do not provide institutional aid (tuition discounts) and often require borrowing to support living expenses as well.

The students who are maximum risk of being burdened by college debt are those who take out maximum loans while not making adequate progress toward graduation. In that case, one gets the debt burden without the increased earning power.

Ms. Yellen argued:

In discussing higher education, you may have noticed that I have spoken in terms of completing your degrees. Research shows that a large share of the benefits I have described from higher education comes only to those who graduate. Even those completing three or more years of college benefit much less when they don’t get a degree. For example, some of you may be worried about paying off loans you have taken out to pay for your education. The good news is that the vast majority of student borrowers who complete their degrees find work that allows them to keep up with their payments and pay off their loans.

What does all this mean? For students, it means that borrowing for a meaningful education will pay dividends in the long run — even in art history! It means that key to success is a careful academic plan that gets on finished close to on-time. Private liberal arts institutions have a higher rate of on-time completion than other institutional types. For institutions, it mean that we need to be honest about the real costs and benefits of our degrees. We need to make sure that our students are progressing toward degrees and not simply enjoying the college life.

One of the few points of agreement between President Obama and President-Elect Trump involves the favorability of income based loan repayment plans with the possibility of forgiveness down the road. It’s an important policy initiative because the patterns for high school earnings are not likely to improve in coming decades. It’s the kind of policy that provides incentives for people to adjust to the economic transformations that have taken place. It’s certainly not the time to think about attacking student borrowing as the new chair of the House Education Committee, Virginia Foxx recently suggested.

I’ve spent a lot of time since the election pondering what it would have take for policy makers to incentivize those left behind by economic transformation in the same way they incentivized new business development.

Evangelicals and Democrats: Thoughts on Michael Wear’s Atlantic Interview

I trust Michael Wear. He is a faithful evangelical who is attempting to find a vital role for religious faith in our political system. This is a commendable, albeit taxing, task. He served in the Obama White House in the office of faith outreach during the first term. He has written a book Reclaiming Hope (which I preordered when it first became available) that releases in three weeks. I look forward to reading it.

Yesterday, The Atlantic published an interview Michael did with Emma Green. Titled “Democrats have a Religion Problem,” it covers a number of important issues we saw in the 2016 election. Notably, over 4 in 5 white evangelical/born again voters supported Donald Trump over Hillary Clinton.


[Research note: the qualifications Pew uses are kind of weird — Black protestants are considered just Protestant. Evangelicals are people who self-identify as such. Born agains are anyone from any religious tradition who claims a salvation experience. And as I’ve noted before, there is significant variation in their church attendance.] 

The most basic explanation Michael offers is that Democrats never asked for the evangelical vote. If they had, it would have been a tough sell but losing evangelicals by 57 points as Obama did in 2012 instead of Clonton’s loss of 65 points would have been huge in an election that ended up so close. (Obama has done interviews recently explaining how he used this “limit the size of the loss” strategy in downstate Illinois during his US Senate race.)

Another explanation Wear gives is that the Democratic Party seemed to go out of its way to poke fingers in the eyes of evangelicals. This was true with a platform that demanded repealing the Hyde Amendment that blocks federal funding of abortion. It was true with making HB2 in North Carolina a rallying cry against homophobic religious folks. It was true with regard to how the contraceptive mandate in ObamaCare was seen to force religious groups to sue the federal government to  protect their “deeply held religious views”. While these issues served to fossilize the preexisting partisan distinctions, they could have been handled differently as I’ll explore below.

Thirdly, Michael points out that there is a lot of religious illiteracy among Democratic operatives. They don’t hang out with religious folks so it is easier to minimize and ridicule their positions. It’s helpful to consider how journalists with churched backgrounds do a far better job of avoiding such ridicule, treating people of faith as real people (shout-out to Sarah Pulliam Bailey, Sarah McCammon, Ruth Graham, Emma Green, and others I shouldn’t be forgetting). 

This lack is particularly damaging when its filtered through the lens of religious persecution. There is an entire industry devoted to finding outrage around religion issues. A religious freedom limitation in a local school is cast as “what’s coming for us all“. The president-elect is fixated on the Johnson Amendment with no evidence that pastors have ever been limited in their political speech. But a few cases, when combined with the “they are opposed to religion” mantra creates an echo chamber that is very hard to engage.

And yet…

It’s hard for me to fully buy the “Democrats left evangelicals” argument. Lydia Bean’s book, The Politics of  Evangelical Identity underscores the myriad ways that evangelical subculture vilifies Democrats (or Liberals, which means the same thing to the parishioners in her study). It is taken as a matter of faith that not only has culture changed for the worse (sexual revolution, support of LGBT rights, the women’s movement) but that Liberal Democrats are directly to blame for forcing their views on others. It’s part of the taken for granted worldview and not a prescribed set of talking points taught from the pulpit. 

In 1988, a “colleague” wrote an opinion piece for the university paper claiming that the only way one could vote for a Democrat was by compartmentalizing ones faith from the willing sacrifice to the sovereignty of the state. I know it was written about me because he used to discuss me by name in class (according to mutual students). It fit very well within the ethos of that school and all of the others where I have worked. To make the argument that my position would have been more respected if I’d tried harder probably doesn’t hold. The best I could hope for was quiet toleration (like the angry uncle at Thanksgiving).

If we take another look at the Pew data above, it’s easier to argue that Evangelicals left Democrats, especially as moral issues superseded economic or policy issues in the minds of voters. It is true that Clinton lost evangelicals for 5% more than Obama, but the actual story going back to 2000 is a remarkable level of stability. The highest support Democrats received in the last five presidential cycles was Obama’s historic election in 2008 where he got almost a quarter of the evangelical vote. That’s a 6 point swing from Obama’s high to Clinton’s low (which would have mattered in an election so close, but still).

The easy explanation, of course, is abortion. Since Roe v. Wade was decided in 1973, overturning that decision has been a high priority for evangelicals. They believe, rightly or wrongly, that supporting Republican presidents will change the makeup of the Court to make that possible. While the empirical evidence on that linkage is pretty poor (a lot of Republican appointees have supported Roe), it might be a viable electoral strategy — even though every president claims that there won’t be a litmus test and nominees make noises about settled law (Stare Decisis).

And yet we vilify Democratic candidates for nuancing their position on abortion (e.g., John Kerry, Tim Kaine) and arguing for space between the moral position (when does life begin) and the political position (what should policy be to govern individual rights). If one tries to argue for compromise, the firestorm from the church (especially with regard to Catholic candidates) is real.

I’d argue that Republicans have pushed the abortion debate in new directions in recent years. State laws mandating hospital level facilities for abortion clinics under supposed concern for very rare cases look to any casual observer as an attempt to undermine Roe and limit its applicability. Don’t believe me? Read the religious press when one of those laws passes and watch for the analogies to “knocking bricks out of the foundation“.

Our abortion policy is badly decided regardless of political party. The Hyde Amendment is a bandaid that holds off the actual national debate that should be had. State level restrictions on abortion are passed that manage to make abortion legal but impossible and seem to stem from the view that “we have the votes so we can do what we want.” 

We have to find new ways of having this important policy debate in ways that serve the common good and not just the partisan votes we can whip, but that’s a post for another day when I feel more brave.

One more thing about the gap between Democrats and Evangelicals. There is a huge instrastructure on the Right that mobilizes voters to attend to certain candidates. The Value Voters Summit and the Conservative Political Action Conference are two highlighted events that get covered by the major media. Republican candidates come and make their red-meat pitch to those in attendance (each trying to out extreme the previous speaker). The Family Research Council and similar groups regularly appear on cable news shows to reflect the position of evangelical Christians, always from the Republican vantage point. 

There is no equivalent infrastructure on the Democratic side. Sure, there are groups like Sojourners or Red Letter Christians but those are organized around a set of specific individuals. Who puts out the talking points to counter immigration policy from a faith persepctive? Where does criminal justice reform come in? What about balancing refugee relief and security concerns?

To me, these issues are addressed by activist groups formed around that particular agenda point. What is needed is for Democrats to find the funding to create the parallel non-governmental advocacy structures that exist on the right.

My colleague in 1988 was wrong (even though my candidate, Michael Dukakis, lost badly) — there are lots of ways of seeing how evangelical faith and Democratic partisanship flow together. I have been trying to walk that road my entire career. It’s hard and sometimes lonely but its important work to do.

The quality of our small-d democracy depends on all us putting in that work.

Emotions and Elections: Arlie Russell Hochschild’s Strangers in Their Own Land

Last week, I wrote on two books that helped me reflect on our current political moment. One, Hillbilly Elegy, told the story of how limited opportunity connects to family dysfunction (a story told more sociologically in Robert Putnam’s Our Kids). The other, Evicted, detailed the complex interplay between poverty, tenant law, and the institutional forces that trap some populations in inner-city substandard housing. (The author, Matthew Desmond, will be speaking at Calvin College on January 5th.)

Both of these books address issues we never heard about during the presidential campaign. If we are to repair our political discourse in the face of segmented news sources and fake news conspiracies, we need to be more attentive to these institutional forces. If we want our candidates to speak to the real issues that would make government work for people (and thereby refute the claim that “government can’t do anything”), we need to listen more.

So I was pleased to be able to dive into Arlie Hochschild’s excellent book on Tea Party folks in Louisiana. A Berkeley sociologist, Hochschild took her qualitative lenses to the part of the country that confronts remarkable paradoxes. Inequality has grown substantially in spite of the new job economy that has gone along with expansion in the oil industry and fracking startups. Government oversight of those industries is usually seen as unwanted intrusion at best and harm causing at worst (the Obama administration’s moratorium on oil exploration after the explosion of Deep Water Horizon is an example of the latter.) But there is an awareness that the rules are written in favor of those oil concerns so government wasn’t going to do anything anyway (but somehow regulations could still apply to individual citizens who violated environmental guidelines).

Hochschild rejects the simplistic approach that asks why these Louisiana voters were acting against their economic self-interest. She begins her book refuting the argument made 12 years ago by Thomas Frank in What’s the Matter With Kansas. Frank had argued that Republicans offered social issues (Roe v. Wade, prayer in schools) to voters that they never moved on while supporting economic policies that worked for big business. Rather than beginning with her thesis and then finding supportive anecdotes, Hochschild is committed to finding the Deep Story that is motivating decision making (including voting).

One of the most compelling aspects of the book is that Arlie tells her story of discovery along the way. The reader gets to follow along as she makes discoveries and starts connecting dots. When she arrives at a tentative Deep Story, she then tries it out on the people she has gotten to know during her visits. She shares her own struggles in trying to reconcile life in former plantation Louisiana with her life back in Berkeley.

The Deep Story she arrives at has an image of people standing in line for the American Dream. They have been standing for a long time, waiting to get their shot (Hamilton reference!). But society has been shifting demographically and attitudinally. People keep being invited into line in front of them and their promise of a good life is continually deferred. Moreover, the people put in line in front of them (immigrants, refugees, independent women, blacks, gays) are being helped by the social forces controlled by government. Nobody is looking out for their interests at all and the powers that be seem to be working directly counter to those interests.

This image of line cutting is quire consistent with the argument Robert Jones made in The End of White Christian America. Not only is it true that American society is changing with regard to religion and demography (albeit slower in Louisiana than in the country as a whole), it also aligns with Jones’ argument that 2016 saw a rise in “nostalgia voters”: people who longed for an earlier time when the Big Story worked (simply calling them racists and homophobes is as limiting as Frank focusing on economic issues).

The paradox is that this story fails to deal with the significant issues at their front door. Arlie uses environmental concerns as the keyhole issue through which one can read the relationship between the people, the free market, and the government. There is the story of Bayou d’Indie and how illegal dumping by the major employer destroyed the entire ecosystem making land unproductive and fishing absolutely hazardous. In 2012, careless drilling by Texas Brine punctured the Napoleonvillle Dome, a salt dome nearly 4000 feet below Bayou Corne. (Apparently, storing various materials in underwater salt domes is a common practice.) The result was a sinkhole that eventually subsumed 37 acres and inundated the water supply with flammable gas. The I-10 freeway bridge running across Lake Charles needs to be replaced because the clay on which the supports rest is contaminated with EDC (ethylene dichloride) which renders the supports unstable.

But media sources don’t cover these stories (how did we miss news of a 37 acre sinkhole?). And the people tend to think that interfering with the free market would be ineffective. The companies have too many lawyers, give too many campaign contributions, and infiltrate the oversight bodies. It wouldn’t do any good and the jobs on which the people are dependent might simply go away. There is little tie between corporate culture and community culture (perhaps due to tax abatements offered to get the plants to explore the oil and gas deposits that go with the terrain).

There is an added layer to her argument that I found fascinating. Early in the book, she writes this:

At play are “feeling rules,” left ones and right ones. The right seeks release from liberal notions of what they should feel — happy for the gay newlywed, sad at the plight of the Syrian refugee, unresentful about paying taxes. The left sees prejudice. Such rules challenge the emotional core of right wing belief. And it is to this core that a free-wheeling candidate such as the billionaire entrepreneur Donald Trump, Republican candidate for president in 2016, can appeal, saying, as he gazes upon throngs of supporters, “See all the passion.” (15-16, emphasis hers)

This passage helped me understand the concern about “political correctness” for the first time. The issue isn’t that they want to be free to use racial epithets or  homophobic slurs or echoing Rush Limbaugh’s concerns about “femi-nazis”. It’s that they don’t want people to tell them how they are suppposed to feel.

A commitment to being free to feel as you want rings true to me. I see it in the 81% of white evangelicals who supported Trump. I see it in Michael Wear’s conversation with Emma Green today on how democrats lost evangelicals.

Curiously, I also see it in millennials and others who are abandoning evangelicalism. The seem to be resenting the way that evangelical gatekeepers say “these are the issues you should be concerned about (see anything on Franklin Graham’s Facebook feed)” or “these are issues you can’t discuss (see Pete Enns’ response to the Tim Keller/Nicholas Kristoff interview).”

The challenge for us going forward is that there is a huge disconnect between the feeling concerns and the institutional forces that are really impinging on those feelings. If we stay at the emotional level, we feed a rugged individualism that insists on protecting one’s one interests. There is little there to build an understanding of the common good much less to build good policy.

But a necessary first step is to actually linked to hearing the experience of others. That’s something that policy makers of both parties need to work on.