This election season is over, and thank goodness. Just in time to begin the long and difficult process of preparing for the next one. Because that, after all, is most of what American federal politics are about: re-election.
A nation’s politics tell you a great deal about that nation’s gods. Before we even consider the issues of the day, look at how the USA treats the institutions of its democratic republic. Voting is a kind of civic sacrament by which the will of the ultimate authority (the people) is revealed. Our coinage, in a rather delicious twist of irony, is emblazoned with “In God We Trust”. We see in political candidates godlike powers to feel and to heal our pain, bridge the gaping voids between our contradictory ideologies, and protect us from all of the uncertainties and unpleasantries which a real world brings (whether they be violent men wanting to harm us or violent cells turning our bodies against themselves).
Through the whole thing, I never cease to be amazed by the pervasive idolatry of both the participants and the process itself. Both of the major parties degenerated into the most shameless form of idolatry – hero worship – with a war hero on one side and a symbolically significant idealist on the other. And while the adoration art may have swung one direction more than the other, the adulative rhetoric of honor and patriotism running the other direction more than balanced it. But most disturbing was that not even the prominent evangelicals who had platforms to inject their voices into the conversation bothered to ask whether we aren’t looking to these mere men to be something which only Jesus can be: a Savior who can deliver us from our sins and make the world new.
My own political inclination tends to run (little-”L”) libertarian, but unlike most of those with whom I tend to agree I will willingly stand first in line to decry its idols and folly. “The market” — the savior of fiscal conservatism — is not a benevolent force which turns individual greed into virtuous affluence. The market will indiscriminantly broker vice and virtue, setting the price for corn syrup and sex with underage prostitutes with eqaul vitality and precision. As Douglas Wilson aptly noted, a market is not truly free when it consists of slaves exchanging chains with one another. A market full of esteem for virtue may indeed suppress vice, but a market made up of greedy sinners will commodify their sin, driving it to greater and greater efficiency. So it is not the market which I think will save us, but rather the providential hand of God working through redeemed men and their transformed wills to renew every institution from the inside out.
In a similar vein, I accept the social liberalism of libertarianism only because I prefer it as a necessary logical consequence of opposing the alternatives. Specifically, I find it profoundly dangerous to endow the state with any power which you would not entrust to the hands of your enemies. Let’s take an example: the state’s role in regulating marriage is an outgrowth of the eugenics movement, the idea that some people should not breed with each other; out of this we got marriage licensing. But the mechanism has since then so often changed hands, it has gone from a tool of population engineering to a tool of racism to a tool of public health (blood type checks) and is now being fought over as a tool of cultural normalization and validation, with the voice of the church chiming in from time to time on both wrong sides of every one of those issues. And Christians today should ask themselves if they really want to use the law to impose one vision of social order when secular feminists, Oprahphiles, and post-free-love sexual libertines each hold a firmer grip on the voting psyche than we do (and are, therefore, better able to impose their visions of social order upon us by the same means). Legal mechanisms always outlive the intentions of their creators.
Even so, social liberalism alone (by which I mean legal permissiveness toward behavior which does not actively harm others) does not give rise to cohesive civilizations. As a legal framework, it works when people can (for the most part) trust one another to do the right thing, and to agree with one another that what a small minority is doing is indeed wrong. Unfortunately, such an assumption in our own day would be patently false; when even a small fraction of my neighbors think there is nothing morally repugnant about dismembering and suctioning out the brains of an infant simply because it has not yet passed through its mother’s birth canal, I can no longer assume that the driver in the next car or the coworker in the next cubicle has any meaningful or coherent sense of right and wrong with which I can agree. There is no more prevailing moral compass in the west, and there is no surprise in the result: the civilization tears itself apart because everyone is trying to pull it toward their own version of “north”.
So, with all of the caveats and more, I lean libertarian, not because I think they have picked the right savior — they have not — but because I see in it the clearest critique to the idol before whom every other political ideology bows low: Caesar. A child is shot in a schoolyard? Caesar will take away people’s guns. A young man dies of a bacterial infection transmitted by spinach? Caesar will establish stricter standards for the handling of spinach by farmers and distributors. Someone is injured in a car wreck? Caesar will make sure every restaurant gives easy access to their wheelchair. A woman is raped? Caesar will tell young children about how wonderful sex is and that they should try it as soon as possible so they don’t get sexually frustrated and start raping people. And so it goes; tragedy happens (as, in a fallen world, it inevitably does), and the righteous cry that something must be done is immediately taken up by politicians and lawyers who compete with reckless abandon to seem the most heroic by spending money that is not theirs and crafting more and more rules which have less and less to do with the real problems of human brokenness. There is room for a wise and judicious state to hold human sinfulness in check — Paul calls the governor a minister of vengeance upon the wicked (and that includes both the violence of the rapist and the greed of the corrupt insurance adjuster) — but the impulse in our day is to use the state to shape a new reality in which we can all live in a perpetual childhood, insulated from external danger, protected from our own folly, and oblivious to the mind-bending depth of human depravity and corruption (in others and in ourselves). The state is a pretender to God’s titles as provider, defender, healer, and judge, and it is foolish of us as Christians (or anyone else for that matter!) to pretend to be able to craft a program to fill these roles without recognizing Caesar’s track record of virtually unbroken habitual poverty, oppression, sickness, and injustice, and without offering up a prayer of humility, supplication, and gratitude that in spite of this, by His grace, His righteousness has not been completely suppressed, His grace has not been completely hidden, our ministrations have from time to time served Him and others more than ourselves, and all of these are because He is indeed our good Savior, better than any we will ever elect.