Political Anger and Political Violence

Dear Joel,

Let’s talk about threats of political violence.

No, not Kathy Griffin. (Though we can talk about her, too. I think a severed Trump head is a fine form of political speech, not a threat against the president, and I wish that someone cleverer than Griffin had done it, that the image had been more meaningful, not less graphic. In fact, I’ve been warning conservative Christians about the risks of a symbolic Trump beheading for awhile now.)

I mean Kim Weaver, a Democrat running who was running against Iowa’s Steve King for a seat in the House. King is a racist and a nativist, and he’s quite open and proud of those beliefs. Weaver had run against King in 2016 and was gearing up to run against him again for 2018. She dropped out of the race this week, though, citing, in part, the toll that constant threats–including death threats–was taking on her.

And I mean Stephanie Clayton, the Kansas House Republican who was threatened with hanging on social media after she announced that she was voting with her moderate colleagues to keep guns off Kansas’ campuses, a choice that most faculty on those campuses support.

And Clementa (“Clem”) Pinckney, a Democrat serving in South Carolina’s House, who was killed when a white supremacist opened fire during his church service two summers ago.

And I mean Gabby Giffords, who had been targeted by violent right-wingers high on the violent rhetoric of Sarah Palin and others long before she was shot in a mass shooting that killed 6 others, including a Judge John Roll–who had also long faced death threats–and a child.

And Robert Smith Vance, a federal judge killed in his Alabama home by a mail bomb sent by a man who’d also been bombing civil rights advocates.

And James M. Hind, the first member of Congress assassinated. Hind, representing Arkansas in the House, was gunned down by a Klansman for his support of the rights of former slaves.

And John W. Stephens, a North Carolina state senator, who was murdered by Klansmen for his popularity among black voters, whose support had brought him into office.

And Tomás “Tomasito” Romero, a Pueblo who was assassinated after his capture for daring to rebel against US annexation of Mexico.

Above, Clayton, Hind, Vance, Pinckney, Giffords, and Stephens–all threatened or murdered by people whose political conservatism drove their violence. 

What do these folks have in common? They all represented a symbolic threat to the rule of conservative white men, and they were all threatened or killed because of it.

It’s not the political violence doesn’t happen to conservatives or that those on the left don’t commit violence (McKinley was assassinated by an anarchist, as just one example.) But the violence and the violent rhetoric trends one direction: conservatives fomenting violence and hatred toward those they see as liberal or progressive.

Compare the rhetoric of the Women’s March to that of any Tea Party rally.

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Does he know he’s quoting Malcolm X?

[Above, a man at a Tea Party rally wears a hat indicating that he’s a Desert Storm veteran. Behind him is the Gadsen Flag, which has become associated not simply with the Tea Party but with anti-government extremist and hate movements. He holds a sign saying “By ballet or by bullet restoration is coming.”] 

Ask yourself: Do Democrats have to monitor their events to insure that participants aren’t unfurling a Confederate flag?

Consider the millions of racist images of the Obama family, including images of President Obama lynched. Or find the online images of a digital Hillary Clinton being sexually assaulted. (Better yet, don’t.)

In an attempt to find common ground in what feels like a very polarized America, it’s tempting for good liberals to suggest that we’re all guilty of othering our political opponents, that we’ve all engaged in debased language, that we’ve all been demeaned by the current political climate.

But we’re not all equally guilty. Not by a long shot.

Our pal Erick Erickson, in an article denying that we should be concerned about the Trump administration’s ties to Russia, said recently that he “would actually be really surprised if we make it to December 31st of this year without people in this country taking up arms against each other.” He’s part of the problem, of course–and he’s ignoring the fact that it’s almost always been social conservatives who have threatened civil war and see it unfolding with every new sign of equal treatment for women, African Americans, and LGBT people, not progressives. Factions of the right have been living in 1832 South Carolina for all their lives. They’re slobbering for a fight–all the time.

Speaking like a man in the first session of his court-ordered domestic abuser treatment program, Erickson goes on:

If the left really does believe the Republican Party is a criminal enterprise in league with the Russians, they’re either moral cowards without conviction in their beliefs or about to take up arms to defend their country. If the right really does believe the left is engaged in an unconstitutional coup against the lawfully elected President, they’re either moral cowards without convictions in their beliefs or about to take up arms to defend their country.

That’s right: If we really mean what we say when we say about our political opponents, in Erickson’s view, the only courageous option is civil war. Erickson, protected by his own privileges, doesn’t seem to understand what that would actually mean for the world. and doesn’t have the moral imagination to create solutions to these problems outside of violence. And Erickson is typical of many other conservatives in this regard.

So I’m not believing the crocodile tears of Republicans or their feigned horror over Kathy Griffin’s stunt.

And I’m not arguing that since they are propagators of violent rhetoric  we should be too. “When they go low, we go high” is a pretty good motto. And I don’t think we’re near to a civil war, despite Dennis Prager’s might tempt you and me to worry about.

But I am arguing, ever more forcefully, that we shouldn’t cater to the anger of Trump voters. So much post-election analysis expressed surprise at how angry these folks were, calling on good liberals to try to understand things from the perspectives of white voters in the exurbs and in rustbelt towns and places ripped apart by heroin and opioid epidemics. But underneath all that analysis was the idea that we should be afraid of these people. They are desperate… they are angry… they have guns…

And they tell us this themselves in threats veiled and explicit.

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Above, protestors at a rally in defense of the display of the Confederate flag on public property display a giant flag from the back of a Cadillac SUV. Superimposed over the stars and bars is an image of an assault rifle and the words “Come and Take It.” I’m clearly supposed to be afraid of these people, who are just itching for a fight. 

But I’m angry too–and not just at Trump but at every fool who embraced his bigotry or willfully ignored it in order to get scammed by the biggest heel in reality TV.  That anger isn’t going away, and I’m not adding fear to it.

Rebecca

 

 

 

 

Erick Erickson’s Low Standards

Joel, you are quite kind to engage Erick Erickson as if he had something of theological substance to offer.

Erickson whined this week that people who aren’t Christians and “don’t believe in Jesus” shouldn’t criticize politically conservative Christians for cutting funding to Meals on Wheels–as if it’s wrong for non-Christians to note Christian hypocrisy.

If Erickson cared about Christianity, he would be begging non-Christians to call Christians out for being hypocrites so that Christians would act with more integrity. Religious believers’ hypocrisy is a major reason why so many are turned off from religion. It was actually a major theme of Jesus’ teaching: to take the plank out of your own eye rather than pointing out the splinter in someone else’s. If non-believers are willing to call Christians out for their failures, Erickson should thank God  that they are still paying attention and still expect Christians to act like Jesus.

And, as you keenly point out, “If they want to hold society to their standards, it’s only fair that the rest of us try to hold them to their standards too, no?” Why should the rest of us have to honor the Bible and say “Merry Christmas” instead of “Happy Holidays” if conservative Christians aren’t going to even bother caring for widows and orphans in a way that actually cares for widows and orphans?

Above, an image from a charismatic church service in Illinois, with men on one side of the church and women on the other. Churches were overwhelmed by needs from congregants and were often unable to care for even members, leaving those outside of churches even more vulnerable. This 1939 photo was by Arthur Rothstein, who captures many such images of rural life during the Depression. It is housed in the Library of Congress. 

The Trump budget that Erickson is defending illustrates an old argument between Christian conservatives, who say that it’s churches and voluntary organizations that should provide welfare services (because it’s not “compassionate” to make people pay for services they don’t directly benefit from), and Christian progressives who say that Christianity demands that we collectively care for the poor via the government. Conservatives are all about being “subject to governing authorities” but a lot more hesitant about rendering unto Caesar what is Caesar’s when they think that Caesar is redistributing wealth downward.

Christian conservatives are wrong in their argument because, though religious organizations do tremendously valuable work in caring for the needy, they can’t do it alone; the need is simply too great. Alison Collis Greene’s fantastic No Depression in Heaven: The Great Depression, the New Deal, and the Transformation of Religion in the Delta shows us what happened when churches couldn’t meet the need of the people. And some jobs–protecting the environment, discovering cures for diseases, creating a public transportation system–are well beyond the scope of a church and can only be accomplished by the government. And conservative Christians are hypocritical in their argument that Christianity shouldn’t be invoked when it’s part of an argument for social welfare but should be invoked when supporting war or prayer in public school and opposing gay rights and abortion. Which is it–we obey authorities and pay up or resist them?

Conservative Christians like to point out that progressive Christians are hypocrites for invoking religion in defense of immigrants, refugees, and the environment and rejecting religious arguments against feminism or mandatory public displays of religiosity. This, though, is a false equivalency: progressive arguments rooted in Biblical mandates to care for the vulnerable (hungry elders, hungry children, the sick, the imprisoned) support policies and programs (Meals on Wheels, free and reduced lunch, the ACA, prison reform) that are also supported by social science. I think the fact that my religious beliefs work in reality is a pretty good sign that they’re good beliefs–you can’t get good fruit from a bad tree, after all. Conservative Christian budget ideas… well, they yield bad fruit.

Above, an Orthodox depiction of Jesus cursing a fig tree that had no figs on it. To be fair, it wasn’t fig season. But when Jesus wants figs, you better produce! 

Mick Mulvaney lies: we know which programs work and how and why, and we have good ideas about how they can work better. In contrast, conservative Christian arguments for government intervention are far more often supported by religion alone. (I’m going to carve out a big exception here for abortion, which I think can be opposed on grounds that aren’t religious.) There is no reason to argue that we should “put God back in school” or prevent same-sex couples from getting married except for religion.

But, if I’m taking Erickson as a sincere believer, there is an even bigger problem with Erickson’s argument: instead of humbly asking how conservative Christians can better live out the first and second greatest commandments–to love God and to love their neighbor–he implies that non-Christians must be less Christ-like than Christians simply because they are non-Christians.

Who cares if they are? Shouldn’t Christians act more Christ-like than non-Christians? If believing in Jesus doesn’t produce Christ-like Christians, what is the point of believing? Why believe if it doesn’t matter? Erickson sets a pretty low standard here. Many non-Christians have considered their experiences with Erickson and his co-religionists and have reached their own conclusions, as the continued decline in religious believers suggests.

 

What can non-Christians tell Christians like Erick Erickson about Christianity?

President Trump’s budget came out Thursday, with big increases to military spending and big cuts to pretty much all other discretionary spending. Lots of people raised a big stink, to which conservative Erick Erickson responded:

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So. Can Christians learn anything about Christianity from non-Christians?

I’d like to think so. Certainly, we can read the Bible as well as any Christian can, and if we who are atheist or agnostic or Jewish or Muslim can read those words, look at how Christians behave, and draw some conclusions about the sincerity or authenticity of that faith.

We can read, for example, Mathew 25:

34 “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. 35 For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36 I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

37 “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? 38 When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? 39 When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

40 “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

…and expect Christians to act accordingly.

Don’t get me wrong: There’s still plenty to argue about, I guess, regarding the “how” we feed the hungry and clothe the naked. Does that have to be a government program?

But understand: American Christians bring their religiously based moral understandings to bear on a whole bunch of government policy — especially as regards reproductive rights, but also a whole bunch of other stuff. If they want to hold society to their standards, it’s only fair that the rest of us try to hold them to their standards too, no?