This is the eighth in a BNG series of articles on Christianity and democracy that will lead toward the July 4 celebration of America’s 250th birthday. The series has been curated by Carol McEntyre, senior minister at First Baptist Church of Greenville, S.C.
As July 4 draws near and, with it, the 250th anniversary of the American experiment in representative democracy, I find myself thinking often of the late great James Dunn, who spent his life fighting tirelessly for religious liberty and preservation of little “d” democratic values. (In a sort of poetic providence, he died July 4, 2015.)
There are many reasons to think of Dunn in this important historical moment, not least his resistance to all forms of false piety and all attempts to baptize governmental overreach in Jesus’ name. But I find myself thinking of Dunn lately for a much more particular reason: for something he said in a Christianity and Public Policy course I took under him ages ago in divinity school.
Austin Carty
“Fortunately for us,” he said, “James Madison was strongly influenced by Presbyterians.”
Given that few names in the second half of the 20th century were more closely associated with “Baptist” than “James Dunn” — longtime leader of BJC — the statement caught me off guard that day.
“I say that,” Dunn went on, “because this meant Madison had a keen sensitivity to sin.”
Dunn’s point: Given the broken nature of humankind, selfishness always will be a primary factor in our political functioning; thus, the best possible political system(s) will take into account this basic anthropological fact.
All these years later, I’m even more persuaded of Dunn’s insight. For one does not need to be a Calvinist — Dunn certainly wasn’t, and neither am I — to recognize a tendency toward self-interest runs through the heart of every human being, which leads inevitably to interpersonal conflict.
Madison’s contribution to the framework of the American Constitution, Dunn was saying, was to ensure that all this self-interest would be systematically held in tension; that conflict would be a feature of the system, not a bug.
Such sober recognition of conflict’s inevitability and of its paradoxically salutary effects are unpopular today, not just in politics but in all spheres of public (and private) affairs. The German-Korean sociologist Byung Chul-Han refers to our present moment as “The Age of Smooth,” an era in which we think of conflict as something to be avoided rather faced; something to be eliminated rather than overcome.
James Dunn
Enter, then, the ascendant movements on the far-right and the far-left of present-day American politics.
While these movements differ in virtually every way imaginable, what they agree on is this: There ought not to be any dissent among them. They have the right answers; they’ve arrived at the right order for society; they know what is truly good. And thus, any who disagree with them are not only unwelcome in their movement but anathema to it. All ought to be smooth, they effectively aver, and any wrinkle in that smoothness must be ironed out rather than folded in.
Dunn and Madison, were they alive today, would quickly point out that this desire for ideological purity sounds great in theory (after all, who doesn’t want universal agreement and complete smoothness?) but impossible in practice — and not on account of the sincerity of the people but on account of the sinfulness of their personhood.
“Democracy,” Dunn said that day, “is a political answer to human sinfulness.”
After nearly two decades of pastoral ministry, I am convinced Dunn was right.
“Smoothness in human affairs is a seductive fiction while sin itself is a stubborn fact.”
I can’t count the number of times I’ve wanted potentially combustible things in the churches I’ve served to go “smoothly” — times when the specter of conflict has left me near-paralyzed with anxiety — but then, on account of engaging the conflict democratically (which is to say, by being Baptist and honoring each and every opinion involved), the churches have come out stronger and healthier on account of the systematic approach to engaging it.
I’ve discovered it’s not just that there’s no way around conflict; it’s that actively engaging conflict is the only way through it. The bottom line here being: Smoothness in human affairs is a seductive fiction while sin itself is a stubborn fact — one that compounds at scale.
Thus, one of the key reasons — perhaps the key reason — we as a nation have a 250th anniversary to celebrate soon is that sin, however understood theologically, was taken seriously in the initial framing of our political system. For sin, Madison recognized, leads to conflict, and conflict must be constructively faced. Otherwise, in the name of eliminating conflict, all else will be eliminated with it.
We do well in the run-up to this consequential anniversary to remember and to honor this Madisonian insight and to allow it to undergird our present-day defense of democracy and our prophetic criticisms of all movements that would try to co-opt democracy for selfish ends (a contradiction in terms, if ever there were one). For our national treasure is indeed stored in broken vessels, and any attempt to move it elsewhere will result in this treasure being lost.
Austin Carty serves as pastor of Boulevard Baptist Church in Anderson, S.C He holds a doctor of ministry degree from Emory University and a master of divinity degree from Wake Forest University. He is author of The Pastor’s Bookshelf: Why Reading Matters for Ministry.
For discussion:
- What do you think is the relationship between sinfulness and self-interest? Are they synonymous?
- In your experience, does reflection on “sinfulness” — as a human condition — often enter into political considerations and public debate? If not, why not?
- Would you agree that democracy as a political system is well-suited to human sinfulness as you understand it?
- Does reintroducing this baggage-laden theological term, “sin,” help advance conversations about Christianity and democracy or does it serve to stymie it?
Previously in this series:
What is democracy? | Caroline Smith
The church as school for democracy | Emily Hull McGee
Democracy as the practice of loving our neighbors | Mary Alice Birdwhistell
Democracy and religious freedom | Carol McEntyre
Democracy as a moral practice, not just a system — Jason Edwards
Love of neighbor is a democratic ideal — Timothy Peoples
Democracy offers a way for Christian’s to express God’s will — Kyle Reese