The Particulars of Political Persuasion

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The Weight and Power of Ethos

My conversation partner Dr. Jeff VanDerWerff invited me to comment on “the ideal balance or proper relationship between logos, pathos and ethos.” A good challenge, sir. I do have some opinions in this regard.

First, an argument with no logos should be viewed skeptically. Logos is an appeal to our minds, to our sense of rationality. If a political speaker fails to engage our intellect through the fair use of facts, he or she may not understand an issue well enough to explain things properly. In August I attended an event with 2018 Democratic candidates. Some of them talked in such generalities that I doubted the depth of their understanding about certain issues. Others were able to provide more nuanced explanations and proposals. A shallow understanding is not something I want in my elected officials.

Another reason that a politician may fail to include facts is that the facts do not bolster his/her argument. For example, in the past state legislative session, the Iowa legislature (with Republican majorities in both houses) voted to reject federal family planning money in order to prevent any government money from going to Planned Parenthood in Iowa, an organization that performs abortions. I heard no acknowledgment that no federal money was going toward abortions prior to this change, and that the number of abortions had gone down in Iowa under the previous system. Those facts did not bolster the Republican argument.

In Quentin Schultze’s helpful book on public speaking, he argues that when we speak publicly, we define reality for our listeners. What a grave responsibility this is. Defining reality requires the use of solid information and an appeal to logic. It is absolutely unacceptable when politicians speak on a topic without understanding it. It is even worse when they lie or tailor the truth. Of course, candidates on all sides fudge the facts. See this interesting article about lying in presidential campaigns, a practice going all the way back to Adams vs. Jefferson.

I would much rather hear politicians say, “I don’t know” than guess on the facts or state an ignorant opinion. At a recent town hall with Senator Chuck Grassley (R-IA), he was asked about all kinds of topics (some obscure), and he wasn’t afraid to sometimes answer, “I will have to look into that question. Please give your contact information and question to my assistant.”

For some of us audience members, logos is enough to shape our thinking and move us to action. But for many of us, pathos is also needed—an appeal to our emotions. Often, we listeners need narrative, quotations from people involved, or visual images to help us absorb the facts. For example, in a chapel speech this week at Northwestern College, Vice President of Student Services Julie Elliot used video clips and photos to help us think about the Charlottesville protests. Pathos helps us feel as well as think.

However, too many political speeches or political rants rely solely on pathos (e.g. Facebook posts, online comments responding to newspaper editorials). They appeal to (or prey on) recipients’ fear, anger, prejudice, or self-interest. Whereas this approach often works to persuade, a speech should not be judged based on audience impact only. In my mind, the best speeches combine logos and pathos to present the speaker’s best understanding of reality.

But what I want to spend more time discussing is the mode of persuasion known as ethos. Ethos is our impression of the speaker him/herself—what we perceive to be the person’s character. Here is what Aristotle, the father of rhetoric, had to say about ethos: “Persuasion is achieved by the speaker’s personal character when the speech is so spoken as to make us think him credible. We believe good men more fully and more readily than others: this is true generally whatever the question is, and absolutely true where exact certainty is impossible and opinions are divided. . . his character may almost be called the most effective means of persuasion he possesses.”

Looking at the people we have elected as our political leaders, on what basis do we judge their character? What character traits are we actually looking for?

I am very much afraid that the ethos qualities that attract us in politicians may not always result in the best people to represent us in executive or legislative branches of government. My other observation is that we as an electorate disagree about the character qualities we find admirable.

Let’s look at the contrasting ethe (plural of ethos) of the previous and current presidents. Barack Obama was generally cool and calm (especially important for a black man, unfortunately). He weighed his words. He was quick to laugh, especially at himself. His smile seemed attractive and genuine. For some people previously disengaged, Obama represented them in some way—youthful, optimistic, a person of color, someone from modest means who had worked his way up. The fact that he was running for president represented hope and change.

In contrast, Donald Trump was a celebrity star long before he made a serious run for political office. His persona as a firm, successful businessman on The Apprentice suggested to some that he could steer a big ship, like a country, for example. His no-nonsense approach seemed like the perfect antidote to D.C. stalemate: “Trump isn’t afraid to say it like it is.” And by appearing sympathetic to the electorate’s concerns (about immigrants, the corrupt political establishment, the neglect of the working class), he garnered trust and allegiance.

In the most recent presidential election, there is no doubt who was more knowledgeable and experienced in matters of state. But in my opinion, ethos, coupled with pathos, ruled the day on November 8, 2016. And now we have what we voted for.

 

Bellicosity vs. Generosity

Call me ignorant, but until the last couple years, I wasn’t familiar with the word bellicose.  Merriam-Webster defines bellicose as “favoring or inclined to start quarrels or wars.” It is no wonder that this word is used often in political media coverage. Here are some examples just from the past week in coverage about the North Korea missile crisis:

  • North Korea’s bellicose tests have also caused alarm in neighboring South Korea and Japan. (NPR new, 9.18)
  • But on North Korea specifically, this might also reflect some concern about the president’s more bellicose rhetoric tweets about fire and fury and locked and loaded, for example, some of which have been contradicted by members of the Trump administration. (NPR White House correspondent Scott Horsley, 9.18)

 

In terms of this itch to feed conflict, I also think of the series of 2016 Democratic presidential debates. The first debates between Hillary Clinton and Bernie Saunders were almost congenial with the candidates finding many points of agreement. As the race tightened leading up to the caucuses, Clinton, in particular, became more bellicose, feeling the need to pick a fight in order to distinguish herself from her competitor for the Democratic nomination.

Candidates must often receive “attack” advice from their consultants prior to debates. In a debate held on Northwestern College’s campus between incumbent Representative Steve King (R-IA) and challenger Christie Vilsack (D) on September 27, 2012, Vilsack jabbed at King whenever she could. This focus on King’s foibles rather than articulating her own positions may have put off the many independent voters trying to decide whom to support. On the other hand, King’s continual incendiary rhetoric about immigrants has caused even Republicans to shake their heads at his coarseness and seeming lack of compassion.

The opposite of bellicose may be generous, as in generous of spirit. JVW’s response to my first post would be an example. Even though we are on opposite sides of the aisle, he still looked for points of agreement. A politician with this spirit will look for commonalities, ways that legislators in different parties can work together.

Sadly, an ethos of generosity does not seem to be widely admired at this time in our country’s history. There is common ground, but few dare to venture there. For example, why can’t pro-life and pro-choice acknowledge that we all want to see fewer abortions? Why can’t the “our” in “our streets” refer to African Americans, store owners, the police–the entire community? Some Republicans lashed out against Trump when he met with Democratic leaders about DACA. How dare he negotiate with the other side. But we should be able to pass bipartisan immigration reform that values both humanitarianism and the rule of law. Congress was close to doing just that prior to 9.11.

Can a person with a generous spirit (e.g. JFW) get elected in this climate? I am skeptical, but I would like to see more people with this ethos try. Whether we are running for office or not, we can try to arrest the bellicosity and instead present a generosity of spirit that comes through in so many stories about Jesus (his response to the adulterous women, his words to the robbers on the cross, his welcoming of children, his inclusion of tax collectors). It’s crazy how this first-century man still has so much to teach us in our 21st-century world.

A Work in Progress

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Again, I’m struck by the similarity of my conversation partner’s criticisms.  To begin with, I fully agree that many citizens, Christian or otherwise, must work a little harder than they presently do at getting beyond their own confirmation bias.  We’re all guilty of this, myself included.  This, then, is important; it seems to me the church should be at the forefront in leading efforts to counteract such tendencies, especially among members of its own flock.  Sadly, I’m not sure many parishioners or congregants are willing to acknowledge the problem, that is, if they are even aware of it in the first place.

As I’ve claimed in my earlier posts, evangelicals must learn to disagree well or, at least, better; not just with those who consider “lost” but also—maybe especially—with fellow believers who happen to hold a different position or belong to another party.  There is nothing inherently wrong with disagreeing, but how we go about doing so matters to our witness and it should start with a willingness to recognize and concede that there is, in fact, political disagreement within the body of Christ.

I’d also like to second Kim’s call to “speak out when false information is presented as true.”  Obviously, we should do so as respectfully and thoughtfully as possible, keeping in mind that we may have misunderstand or misread something we’ve heard or seen, but speaking out is as necessary as it is perilous.  Few people like confrontation (and it is probably wise to avoid those who revel in conflict), but I’d contend it is required if we truly love others.  I’m often shocked at the easiness with which friends or family members pass along misinformation and falsehoods via email or Facebook.  Many times, the story or “news” item seems to me too fantastic to be true—and yet it does appear to confirm the predisposition or bias of the sender/poster as well as many of the recipients/readers presumably.  A quick investigation of one fact-checking organization or another (e.g., Politifact or Snopes, to name but two) usually bears out the exaggerated claim, clear-cut distortion or out-n-out lie.

What’s disheartening is that this is a digital form of gossip, made all the worse by the ease with which it can be disseminated so broadly.  On the few occasions where I’ve attempted to set the record straight, the reply of the offending party has been not unlike the response Kim reported.  Even when it has been appreciated, I have my doubts as to whether the individual went to the same effort to communicate the truth as opposed to simply keeping it to themselves.  Once I sent my reply/correction to the entire list of email recipients only to have some accuse me of being insensitive or, worse, passive-aggressive, despite what I thought were my best efforts to do so gently.  Sigh. 

I would like to reassure my friend and conversation partner that we are also on the same page when it comes to engaging democracy and being in, but not of, the world.  I almost hesitate to admit that we agree yet again (shucks), but more on why in just a moment.  Before doing so, there is no question in my mind that Kim is correct in observing an otherworldliness, almost a modern-day Gnosticism, animating much of contemporary religious (if not Christian) outlook and practice.  This is wrong-headed.  We are saved for, not from, the world.  Being “of” the world in my view is when we are acting and operating politically, and otherwise, in the same ways that the world does.  Yes, live into the messy reality that is the brokenness of humanity, but do not do so on the world’s terms.

Prior to saying a bit about how we might move forward—some practical suggestions, albeit rather modest proposals—and the extent to which Christians, as Harold Heie is interested in exploring, “have resources for working together across political differences that offer an alternative to the current appalling state of political discourse,” let me offer one final comment related to this on-going agreement with my conversation partner.  A mutual friend of both Kim and mine, one of the few comments received thus far (come on people), noted that:

“Both…conversation partners dislike President Trump and feel many evangelicals are misguided, misinformed, or blindly loyal.  Do we really have both sides of the aisle represented here?”

I acknowledged in my reply that this was a far point and yet I wonder if the premise of the question implicitly reveals the current dilemma of public life and the necessity of reconsidering what engaging democracy entails?  The fact that my conversation partner and I agree doesn’t mean we’re not on either side of the aisle.  Kim’s a Democrat, the county chair for her party.  I’m a life-long Republican, active in our local, grassroots efforts, having even sought the nomination of my party.  I suspect Kim may be a center-left Democrat; I’m a center-right member of the GOP.  That likely leaves us closer to each other than some of today’s more zealous partisans and on occasion it means we’re more likely to find common ground.  

Here’s the point: if the evidence for having both sides represented means we must disagree on everything, well, I’d suggest that is what is, in part, wrong with our politics.  It is also clearly why, among other things, we need to reform our political discourse.  This suggests, as I initially claimed in my first post, that the current state of affairs is worse than simply talking past one another.

Moving Forward: Three Simple Suggestions

The story, and witness, of Kim’s friend Jaci is as encouraging as it is, sadly, elusive.  I’d like to hope such examples are more common than we know, but I’m not optimistic.  If anything, I fear they are more than likely the exception that proves the rule.  A recent, and damning, post by Rod Dreher at the American Conservative highlights what we’re up against as well as unpacking somewhat the nature of the problem.  Too many citizens it would seem, evangelicals included, exhibit a “malleable innocence” whereby party largely trumps (no pun intended) all other commitments or convictions and results in a rather telling tribalism.

This is problematic, not the least, because of American evangelicalism’s increasingly close ties to the Republican party.  What does the logic of collective action currently say about where we place our ultimate loyalty?  Clearly, it wasn’t with or in Obama or Clinton, but should it be with anyone on the GOP’s side, let alone Trump?  The less of two evils, remains evil.  Moreover, does declining trust in the government, even despair regarding the future, warrant an anxiety that spills over into an unreasonably bleak, if not terrifying, outlook?  Is God no longer in control?  Who is in charge and running the world, to say nothing of the United States?  Has the sovereign Lord and true king been forgotten?  Such forgetfulness betrays a post-modern form of idolatry by (mis)placing our confidence in a party or a president.

Current behavior suggests that evangelicals have succumbed to the tempting deceit that we are responsible for how history turns out or that the God of history cannot accomplish this task without us.  If this reality isn’t bad enough, we are increasingly viewed by those both inside and outside the subculture as hypocritical, homophobic, judgmental, anti-intellectual and negative, to name but a few of the perceptions (e.g., check out books such as these: unChristian or You Lost Me, the later which is captured in the video clip above).  As Philip Yancey’s decidedly pointed yet pertinent question asks: “why does the word evangelical threaten so many people in our culture?”  Unfortunately, the answer is found all too easily in the countless examples where we have inadvertently, if not unintentionally, made the good news of the gospel sound or seem anything like it should.

In seeking the welfare of the city or honestly asking who is our neighbor, followers of Jesus who are citizens of heaven (as much as they are of any nation state) need live in a way that is more biblically consistent.  Consequently, it would seem evangelicals should be much more politically inconsistent, at least as far as partisan and ideologically commitments go.  Practically speaking, this leads to the following three suggestions or modest proposals:

1.   Criticism should be lodged primarily with one’s own party first and foremost.

2.   Learning to listen as well as engage those in the other party is essential.

3.   Maintaining a critical distance, or independence, from either party is necessary.

This advice is more likely to resonate with those readers who recall that Christians ought to represent a new way of engaging democracy by letting their public life preach, so-to-speak.  Finding common ground or a middle way is much more challenging than simply “going with the flow” or categorically rejecting everything out of hand.  Instead, the more difficult task might involve exercising discernment, employing imagination, or even being willing to compromise. 

It is here where partisan loyalties and ideological convictions may need to be sacrificed on the altar of Christian commitment to the kingdom of God.  Again, to be biblically consistent will require followers of Jesus to be politically inconsistent on occasion.   Moreover, there may be times, for instance, where an individual is called to confront their own party specifically or the governing authorities generally, but it is equally possible where collaboration with someone from another party or partnering with the state is entirely appropriate. 

Christian political discourse can’t be simply about being polite or nice.  Sure, we should be civil, and of course respectful, but confrontation in and of itself is not wrong.  There are things we should be angry about, but in our efforts to do something about it—to act—this anger should not cause us to sin.  In fact, I’d contend the overwhelming evangelical association with the GOP is not only unbalanced, but unhealthy.  It has become idolatrous in that it has created a kind of amnesia.  Whose, are we?  Why, are we saved?  Evangelicals have failed to maintain a proper or critical distance from power and it has clouded our judgement as well as the ability to offer a critique of our own side.  The admonition to be in, but not of, the world appears to have been turned on its head.

Given the current political climate, marked as it is by a bitter, ongoing culture war (regardless of its scale or whether, as some say, it is in its final throes if not already lost), it is critical for those who engage the process to do so with a certain civility.  Do not misunderstand, evangelicals as much as any other citizen “have a right and a responsibility to disagree, to debate, to persuade someone that they are out to lunch.”  The troubling fact, however, is as Rich Mouw perfectly characterizes: those who are highly committed are not very civil and those who are decidedly civil are not very committed.   Where are these citizens of heaven who are not one or the other, but both: highly committed and decidedly civil? 

A new creation, or re-creation, is fully underway.  It is a redemptive project demanding reconciliation, and all that requires, which at a minimum deserves a pride of place in this restorative effort.  Followers of Jesus, then, have a job to do.  This means telling, as well as living into, a forgotten story of how God became king in and through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.  As such, demonstrations of love are as important, if not more so, than a disciplined defense of the faith.  This involves abiding by the mission, template, or paradigm that was the life and death of Jesus: “just as the father sent me, I send you” (John 20:21)!   Citizens of heaven must live in, even as they attempt not to become part of, the world.  Failure to engage this world will render ineffective and possibly moot, any “good news” the church might want to offer so-called pagans.

Resources and Reform (as well as Repentance)

Political discourse needs reforming, and I believe and would like to think the Christian faith has something to offer this possibility, but we are dealing with a symptom of a much deeper and more rooted problem.  From prescient voices, such as Dietrich Bonhoeffer, to recent prophetic warnings like those of Michael Spencer (the “internet monk,” may he rest in peace) and David Fitch, there appears to be a coming evangelical collapse.  Are there the necessary resources to address how we go about engaging democracy in ways that are more fruitful and faithful?  Necessity, as some say, is the mother of all invention.

How evangelicals act in public life is, in the end, what really matters.  Efforts to “take back America” or “Make America Great Again” rather than be the church that exemplifies a new way of being human seem far more typical today in the hue and cry that characterizes the culture wars.  It is counterproductive, to say the least, if those ostensibly working on behalf of God’s kingdom do so by means that fail to correspond with the message of Jesus.  As N.T. Wright observes, “it is no good announcing love and peace if [one] makes angry, violent war to achieve it.”   This is no less true when it comes to the culture wars.  These figurative battles matter, not the least because politics is meant to prevent literal shooting wars (which are preceded by culture wars gone wrong), but how one fights matters too.  The church, a key institution for cultivating the virtue necessary in this grand experiment called American democracy, is not currently up to the task.  It has been rendered ineffective and irrelevant as the result of both external forces and internal heresies.  Bad religion has contributed to bad politics.  For the sake of the state as well as society, the church must first get its own house in order.

Citizens of heaven should be for the world much as Jesus was for Israel.  The zeal with which this is to be pursued, however, must undergo a transformation not unlike Saul experienced on the road to Tarsus.  This is where the culture wars have seemingly gotten so far off track.  There is little question culture warriors possess passion, but in their efforts to “take a stand for Jesus” they often do more harm than good.  Paganism is never going to be defeated by employing the same sort of (political) weapons as the world.  That is why evangelical “victories” in the cultural battles are so often pyrrhic.  Jesus did not even take a stand for himself (nor did he allow Peter to take a stand for him), so why should followers today?   This, of course, does not mean that evangelicals must remain silent or avoid entering the public square, but it does suggest that at a minimum they think more carefully and thoughtfully about why and how hot-button social issues are addressed when engaging democracy through public life.

If winning the culture wars on the world’s terms is the only viable means or reasonable way to engage public life, there is little doubt then that evangelicals are captive to a contemporary pagan corruption.  Some may wonder if anything can be done about it?  Let me close with what may be a provocative answer: evangelicals should issue a culture war’s cease-fire or adopt a radically different set of rules for engaging democracy altogether.  This proposed truce is based in part on three factors.

First of all, as has been noted previously, evangelicals seem to have let the world press them into its mold of political practice.  This mistake is only compounded by the fact that Jesus viewed even the intention of combating the cultural corruption that seemed everywhere—a not uncommon feeling among evangelicals today—as a pagan vice.  Secondly, this collective effort to wage war on the world’s terms often undermines the primary endeavor to advance God’s kingdom.  What value is there if in our desire to win, even when evangelicals may be right, we cease to be good?  Undoubtedly, we are likely to prevail from time to time in these public skirmishes and consequently realize a measure of political success, but at what cost?  Evangelicals appear to be paying too high a price when we rationalize our efforts in ways more in keeping with Machiavelli than Christ.  Do the ends really justify the means?

Finally, Jesus’ parable of the weeds and the wheat seems to suggest that this proposed cease-fire is not as outlandish as it might have first sounded.  In Matthew 13:24-30, a parallel is found with the response to the question regarding whether the farmhands should weed the field of thistles.  The answer, of course, is a rather emphatic and possibly surprisingly no, they should not; the danger of doing so is that in zealously rooting out the offending weeds (to say nothing about the challenge of correctly identifying them in the first place) some of the wheat will be invariably uprooted as well.  So too, it would seem, in today’s culture wars.

Waging rhetorical war with our enemies, or political opponents, has resulted in an untold number of battle worn casualties, both intended and unintended.  If, in fact, evangelicals are paying too high a price for this participation in a culture war it seems prudent, even wise, to issue a cease-fire.  In doing so, the church will be granted the requisite independence for assuming its witness in public life by engaging democracy in a way that maintains a faithful presence on behalf of God and the kingdom of heaven.  Short of a cease-fire, a small indicator that we remain a work in progress would be if followers of Jesus were willing to reform their political discourse.  May it be so.  Lord have mercy.

Whad’Ya Know

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To borrow from the title of my conversation partner’s blog post, I’m “hard pressed” to find many disagreements with her thoughtful commentary, which is an encouraging consequence, or at least, should be.  Right?  Finding common ground is a good thing, isn’t it?  Then, again, I suppose not everyone would be happy to hear a Republican and Democrat agreeing about something.  A certain skepticism would likely arise at this discovery.  Why?  Well, there must be more to the story—so goes the suspicion these days—which reminds me of a tale I haven’t told for a while, but seems worth recounting now.

I’ve previously confessed my status as a political junkie, but have yet to share that not too long ago I actually sought public office—House District 4 in the Iowa General Assembly.  For the most part, it proved to be a fantastic experience, albeit an unsuccessful one ultimately (too many straight-ticket voters).  There’s no question I learned a lot.  My campaign clearly informs my teaching and classroom instruction in the only way experiential learning can.  Despite losing, I have few regrets about throwing my hat-in-the-ring, though individual members of my family probably feel differently, as they too were affected by some of the false accusations unfairly directed at me.

Relationships 101

The specific story I’m recalling happened back during the spring of 2016 amid Orange City’s annual Tulip Festival (Breng ons een bezoek), which also coincided with the closing weeks of GOP primary election.  In the spirit of full disclosure, I had nothing to do with the pairing of conversation partners, that was entirely the doing of this project’s host, though I did have to smile when I learned Kim Van Es would represent the other side of the aisle, so-to-speak, in this opening exchange over the need to reform political discourse.  Here’s why.  As I wrote in a campaign blog entry at the time (21st of May)—

The final day of Tulip Festival is in full swing and I just got done scrubbing streets (and staying dry for the most part…can’t say that Ian [our youngest son] was so lucky, though I don’t think he was trying to keep from getting wet).  Anyway, this post is being written because it has come to my attention an opponent is going to try to make hay about one particular contribution I received recently (the first financial disclosure deadline was this past Thursday…and it’s all a matter of public record).  To be honest, it really has been quite gratifying and encouraging to see the kind of support I’ve gotten thus far from family and friends alike.

So, here’s the issue.  Really the non-issue in my view.  Among the more than 70+ gifts that have been given to Team VanDerWerff, one of them was from my friend and colleague Kim Van Es and her husband Jerry.  Kim is an English instructor at Northwestern and I’d put her up against any of my colleagues in terms of commitment and care for our students.  When she first started at NWC, I’m guessing 12-15 years ago, we actually shared an office suite briefly.  Since then we’ve served on task forces and search committees together.  Among her many accomplishments, Kim was central to getting the college’s highly successful First Year Seminar off the ground.  Moreover, years ago, Jerry was briefly my doctor when he was still practicing medicine in the local Orange City clinic.

The problem, according to some people, is that I accepted a donation from someone who happens to be the head of the Sioux County Democrats.  [It’s not as if she cut a check on the local party account!]  Quite honestly, I don’t think of Kim in that way, at least that is not her chief or primary identity to me.  She’s a tireless worker, a thoughtful colleague, a runner, and a fierce advocate for students.  She and Jerry, as I say, are most importantly my friends.

I’d like to think that their [personal/monetary] support exemplifies the fact that I’m able and willing to work with someone who doesn’t necessarily agree with me on everything; yet we nevertheless carry on a relationship that is marked by mutual respect. In my estimation, this is but one small example of what is wrong with politics today.  If someone happens to be on the “wrong side” or in the “other party” then that apparently disqualifies them from being in any sort of relationship with me.  Are those with whom we disagree no longer our neighbors or our colleagues or our friends?  I really don’t think so.  It shouldn’t be that way and it is my belief that a majority of Sioux County citizens agree.

[Note: as fate, would have it; immediately after drafting this post I headed up to the Little White Store to work a shift at the cash register selling poffertjes–if you haven’t had the pleasure, of eating poffertjes or working in the Little White Store, you’re missing out. Well, no sooner had I taken my position alongside other volunteers…guess who shows up to make the tiny Dutch delight?  Yep, Kim and Jerry Van Es.]

Those of us who call Sioux County home have to live and work together, it seems to me. We really should be able to get along despite our differences and for the most part, I think we do.  This is why I think I’ll be a good representative.  We need individuals in the Iowa General Assembly, working on our behalf, who will do so in a winsome manner; in a way that conveys not only our work ethic, but the welcoming attitude, even-handedness, and faithful presence characterizing so many of the good citizens of Sioux County.  There is no question relationships matter and I intend to serve with that in mind.

So, while my conversation partner and I each claim partisan and ideological commitments that render us on separate sides of many issues, it would seem our approach to engaging democracy as well as our attitude towards political discourse is quite similar.  That’s good to know.  It also suggests this perception of a deeply divided society as opposed to one more closely separated is, indeed, quite possibly a culture war myth.  And yet, as I argued in my first post, such a (mis)perception may become a self-fulfilling prophecy if American citizens fail to appreciate they are not as far apart or polarized as is often thought.  In fact, our social media habits or practices may be making matters worse by inadvertently fueling extremism.

Reiterating Three Points

So, let me briefly acknowledge that I find little to disagree with concerning the “three problems” Professor Van Es highlights.  There is no question that the line between fact and opinion has been blurred beyond distinction.  Information literacy is an increasingly important ability to possess in this digital age, especially when those who are charged with informing us often make things more complicated by conflating news and commentary.  I concur that this is reflected in student writing and thinking, but I fear this is a problem not just confined to those who are undergrads; I’ve seen too many older (and supposedly wiser) citizens every bit as confused or contradictory in the “expert evidence” relied upon or the logic employ in their arguments made on Facebook or elsewhere.

Secondly, the diversionary tactics employed in much of the political discourse today (and in each of the video clips, particularly the Hannity monologue) is very much in keeping with the arguments of redirection that (Ed Stetzer identified and) so many family and friends tend to default to out of what I can only assume is a misguided sense of loyalty.  This allegiance is one of the more worrisome aspects regarding the continuing evangelical support of the president quite honestly.  Consider the PRRI/RNS survey findings below—

If I had a quarter for every individual who has said in response to some sort of Trump offense, well what about—“fill-in-the-blank”—I’d be rich.  What happened in order for evangelicals to go from having the greatest qualms with a politician’s personal indiscretions to being the most accepting of such foibles?  Did this become necessary because of the GOP stand bearer?  It represents a moral relativism at its finest (that is, worst) and is a Machiavellian commitment to the ends justifying the means that would be terrific if it weren’t so tragic. 

The realization that somewhere around 3:5 of the president’s remaining supporters (his approval numbers hover in the mid-to-upper 30 percent range) say there is nothing Trump could say or do that would dissuade them from supporting him is alarming.  It also suggests why political discourse has become so difficult and persuasion, essentially, impossible.

When sites as varied as Charisma and Vox are making the same point regarding how we are potentially “selling our souls” or diminishing our standing, there might be something to these concerns.  It stands to reason that included among unreserved Trump backers, undoubtedly, are a fair number of evangelicals.  But isn’t this kind of allegiance only supposed to be reserved for the king of kings, not the commander-in-chief?

Finally, the politics of personal destruction, as its been called, are clearly on the rise.  I’m not sure I’d characterize my own electoral experience in such dire terms; at the same time, there were more than one person who commented on the unprecedented contentious nature of the campaign.  Much of that had to do with attacks of a personal nature.  In my estimation, this is simply a symptom of an eroding political discourse, one in need of reform.  It does seem to me that too much of what passes for disagreement on Facebook or other social media platforms masquerades as thinly veiled attacks as opposed to genuine arguments.  Those with whom one disagrees become “leftists” or “brainwashed” or “haters” as opposed to brothers or sisters in Christ whose faith (and lived experience) informs their politics differently.

I’ve not read the article by David Niose referenced in my conversation partner’s post, but the title alone hints at the precarious condition in which public dialogue finds itself today.  The “dangerously anti-intellectual” state of affairs is reminiscent of Mark Noll’s Scandal of the Evangelical Mind (1995).  Not surprisingly, given our roles at an institution of higher education, Kim and I both place a premium on the life of the mind.  As a review of Noll’s classic work noted, when it first came out—

The enormous weight evangelicals put on the experience of conversion, understood as a onetime, life-changing event, has…drawn energies away from intellectual concerns.  If one believes that the central religious drama takes place in an immediate, emotionally charged experience of God’s grace, then one is not likely to devote attention to more difficult, indirect or mundane ways in which God may be known.  Nor is one likely to ponder how the converted life might be lived out in institutional settings or in the arenas of politics, the arts and the sciences (emphasis mine).

The lack of civil discourse or the need to reform political discourse is but a symptom of a deeper root cause it would appear.  Sadly, despite considerable energy and effort in the years since Noll first challenged the evangelical community, much work remains and some gains may have been lost recently.

This is a minor quibble, but if there is a question I thought Kim might address more fully, given her own disciplinary training, it would have been the particular use of rhetorical tools in the political discourse on display in the CNN and FOX news (i.e., Hannity) video clips.  Actually, I’d enjoy hearing what she thinks the ideal balance or proper relationship between logos, pathos and ethos should be, that is, if such an association even exists.  Another, hopefully better, question is: are the sacrificing of logic/expertise on the altar of emotion but one indication of this so-called scandal of the evangelical mind?

On balance, however, I largely agree with my Northwestern colleague in our assessment of the appalling examples or reports provided for us to examine and evaluate.  Sadly, what we see in each of these video clips is far too common, even routine.  They are anything but an exception to the rule. 

Yes, A More Excellent Way

It seems to me engaging democracy, not just participating in politics, but doing so in a way that makes public life more attractive or appealing is an expression of the more excellent way my conversation partner longs for.  Let me make a final observation, implicitly referenced in Kim’s initial post.  Her title comes from Paul’s second letter to the early church of Corinth (chapter 4, verses 8-12)—

8 We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9 persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. 10 We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. 11 For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body. 12 So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.

So again, while things can seem a bit gloomy at present given the tenor and tone of public life we are not to be crushed, or in despair; we’ve not been abandoned or destroyed.  As Eugene Peterson puts it in his paraphrase of The Message: “What they did to Jesus, they do to us—trial and torture, mockery and murder; what Jesus did among them, he does in us—he lives! Our lives are at constant risk for Jesus’ sake, which makes Jesus’ life all the more evident in us. While we’re going through the worst, you’re getting in on the best!”

Granted, evangelicals hardly experience what could be called persecution, in the truest sense of the term.  The challenges increasingly faced today are much closer to the trial and mockery end of the spectrum than the prospect of torture or murder.  As bad as things have gotten, whether real or perceived, we’re not living in some sort of Rwandian or Syrian reality.  Even in decline, as political discourse worsens, it is a far cry from oppression.  The old children’s rhyme remains as true today as ever—sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never harm me.

An important caveat in the growing frequency with which Christians are crying foul or claiming they’re being singled out, if not persecuted, it often (not always) seems to me this is the result of behaving in a way that brings about a well-earned and deserving rebuke.  Many evangelicals may well be correct in their assessment, but the way they go about making their argument or conveying their message is, in a word, mean.  A certain arrogance or self-righteousness is too often worn as a badge of honor, comforted by 2 (two…? Sorry, couldn’t resist) Corinthians 4:8-12.  But here’s the problem, the world may well despise us because of following Jesus, but the world should never hate Jesus because of what we say or do in his name.

As such, it starts with how we speak to and about others.  Not only must the tongue be tamed, but our tone needs to reflect the fruit of the spirit, not the tenor of the times.  Evangelicals, myself included, cannot let the world press us into its political mold (Romans 12:2).

Let me close by saying as problematic and unfit as the president may be, the presidency deserves our respect.  While not necessarily surprised, it remains fascinating to me how frustrated some Facebook friends get over my continued criticism of Trump (a member of the so-called #19Percent, I’ve been admittedly relentless in highlighting his failures and foibles, not to mention the continued cover provided for the president by some prominent evangelicals).  It seems incomprehensible to my critics that I’m simultaneously submitting to the governing authority, as Romans 13 encourages, and repeatedly taking Trump to task.

The hope found in the whole sweep of scripture captures what citizens of heaven should be about; why we are saved.   What this means in terms of reforming political discourse must begin by acknowledging that we, as N.T. Wright so clearly reminds us, “have all but lost the ability conceptually—never mind practically—to affirm that rulers are corrupt and to be confronted yet are God-given and to be obeyed.”  Comply and oppose.  Not one or the other, but both-and: confront and obey.  This is likely going to require discernment and discretion as well as result in a fair amount of tension.

In my estimation, condemnation came much too quickly and easily for evangelicals when the occupant of the White House was not a preferred candidate.  This reality has been replaced by a reticence to criticize the current president who, if he wasn’t the GOP stand bearer, would be roundly called to task given much of what he’s done (or failed to do) was denounced in the actions of his predecessors.  Trump, of course, enjoyed the overwhelming backing of Christian conservatives with roughly 81 percent of white evangelicals casting a ballot for the celebrity outsider.  While that vote is defensible, if debatable; more importantly, it was 10 months ago, so what explains the continued support now?

Truth be told, at the end of the day, Trump is not the problem!  Not really.  He clearly is not the cause of our current state of affairs or the increasingly suspect quality of contemporary political discourse.  No, Trump is the consequence of what plagues us.  Removing him from office, then (whether by losing reelection, resignation, or impeachment), would not address that which has given rise to Trumpism.  For that to happen, to begin the arduous process of diagnosing root causes and not just symptoms, we must learn once again to engage one another and to enter into relationships and conversations with those who do not share our political views, especially when they are our brothers and sisters in Christ.

This, it would seem, entails engaging democracy in a more excellent way.  Whad’ya know…

Beyond Confirmation Bias

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Given the egregious nature of both video segments, I found little in Dr. Jeff VanDerWerff’s (JVW’s) response with which to disagree. Below you will find me elaborating on several of his comments and questioning one of them.

Confirmation Bias on Steroids

For years we have heard about confirmation bias: our mind’s tendency to absorb only that which confirms our preconceptions. For example, we pick out the statistics that support what we already believe to be true. This process has gotten easier because, as JVW pointed out, “[T]he two sides aren’t even talking to each other.” Many of us aren’t even exposed to opposing political ideas because our biased cable news channels and our targeted social media just keep our home fires burning, stoking them with news and perspectives we will like. Perhaps we can call this familiar feed confirmation bias on steroids.

In fact, when we are actually faced with disagreement to our stated positions, we are sometimes shocked or offended. Especially in certain sub-communities, we may assume that everyone agrees with our positions (e.g. on abortion, immigration, gun control). For example, it may be assumed that public school teachers are Democrats or that doctors are Republicans.

During the Obama era campaign for healthcare reform, a Facebook friend of mine posted an article circulating on Facebook about government “death panels” and “killing grandma.” This much-forwarded piece claimed that the government would make decisions about when old people could receive IV nutrition and when they would die. This “government-encouraged euthanasia” was one of several myths circulating about the proposed healthcare reform bill.

I (what I thought was respectfully) replied to my friend’s post with the actual words in the proposed bill: the legislation would require Medicare to pay doctors for end-of-life consultations, conversations that would be optional and would lay out options for end-of-life care. Such conversations might lead to the establishment of advance directives, legal documents that express the patient’s end-of-life wishes and could lead not only to more peaceful final days but also to millions of dollars saved in Medicare spending. But these consultations in no way dictated to patients when or how they would die.

To put it gently, my Facebook response was not appreciated. My friend’s fingers ripped back, “If you don’t agree, then don’t say anything at all.”

Her response was telling and probably not atypical. Even though she made a very public claim by posting on Facebook, she did not find it appropriate for anyone to disagree, even if facts clearly discredited her claim. She may have felt as if my correction shamed her. On Facebook we can disagree about football team alliances and what animals make the best pets, but it doesn’t seem generally acceptable to question claims about politics or religion.

Well, I learned my lesson with that friend. But what I have noticed is that when you can’t safely talk about disagreements with family and friends, the intimacy of that relationship, the closeness, is limited. I have heard people talk about this wall (an ironic choice of words, I know) that has come up between them and some friends and relatives in the wake of President Trump’s election. These stories include young adults who didn’t go home for Christmas for the first time in their lives because they didn’t feel welcomed due to differences of opinion about the Trump presidency between them and their parents. These schisms seem to be rawer than past family impasses between Republicans and Democrats.

Fortunately, I also have friends who not only tolerate disagreement but even welcome it, even on Facebook. These mature friends possess intellectual humility, realizing that they see through a glass darkly. They appreciate hearing other points of view when those positions are expressed respectfully. They don’t cover their ears and start chanting nonsense to avoid exposure to an opinion that might challenge their own.

From my perspective as a reformed Christian, I am called to speak out when false information is presented as true. We are called to be agents of knowledge. The kicker is that I too need to accept the truth whether or not it bolsters my position.

In the 2016 elections, I chose to remain mute about my presidential candidate choice so that I could properly carry out my role as Democratic county chair, especially in executing the caucus. (I am in Iowa, remember, so the caucus is a sacred event.) I did not join a preference group at the caucus. It was important to me that Bernie supporters, Hillary supporters, and everyone else felt welcome under the umbrella of the Democratic Party.

Therefore, it scurged me to hear of leaked DNC (Democratic National Committee) emails suggesting that top staffers strategized against Sanders in favor of Clinton, resulting in the resignation of DNC Chair Debbie Wasserman Schultz. There was no denying the facts or dismissing the problem. The shortage of neutrality at the national level needed to be faced. This news fed the ongoing charge of Clinton corruption.

In today’s political climate, to concede a point is not in the list of rhetorical options. Noting the value of an opponent’s claim could be fatal—like dealing a death blow to one’s self. Should this be our mentality? Isn’t part of growth and the pursuit of truth acknowledging when you haven’t considered a point or may need to alter your perspective?

Growth of the Apolitical Party

One very sad result of today’s political discourse is that some people are saying, “I can’t even listen to the news.” Or, “the state of things has made me so depressed that I am staying out of politics.” In a developed country where an embarrassing low percent of registered people vote (See Pew study) and where less than half can name their congressional representatives, choosing to be uninformed is not progress.

But I get it. We are bombarded with headlines: phone notifications (most of which I turn off), airport TVs, even news screens at the gas pump. (Seriously! Too much already!) So, people are taking breaks from the news or even becoming apolitical (in the sense of becoming disconnected from political issues).

And yet we can’t. Politics affects every part of our lives: our access to public transportation, the salary paid to our child’s teacher, the price of our gas, our accessibility to healthcare insurance, the quality of our water.

Not only is politics unavoidable, but I agree with JVW when he writes that “[e]ngaging democracy is part and parcel of living responsibly in the world.” But I do have issues with the rest of the sentence: “while still not being part of it.” At face value, JFW seems to suggest that Christians are not really part of the world. That suggestion concerns me. Of course, part of the confusion is that when our English Bible translations use “world,” sometimes it means the cosmos and sometimes it refers to powers of evil. And different passages seem to advise different ways of responding to the world.

In JFW’s last line, he writes, “Christians are saved for, not from, a wary world that is closely watching us.” If, as he says, we are saved for the world, then we better see ourselves as a part of it. If we do not see ourselves as citizens here (if we are just sojourners passing through until we get to a better place), then we really have no place on a decision-making team. We don’t have the right to vote, to weigh in, and certainly not to reform. 

It is quite possible that I am misreading JFW. But I hear a disturbing otherworldliness in the talk and lyrics of some Christians. In response to the question, “Why are you a Christian?”, a woman I know said, “So that I know where I am going after I die. So that I can have eternal life with Jesus.” I can understand that as a reason, but as the reason for being a Christian?

A classic hymn sung in churches continues to be, “Turn your eyes upon Jesus. Look full in His wonderful face. And the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace.” I can’t sing that song. Because the Jesus I know from the Bible seemed to care deeply about the things of this world, especially how we respond to our enemies, the poor, the sick, those in prison.

They Will Know We Are Christians By Our . . .

Christians in America are often not known for the Good News Jesus practiced and commissioned his disciples to do (e.g. Matthew 4:23). Jeff raises an important question about evangelicals: “Are we known by our love or have we let the world press us into its political mold?” I am afraid that political discourse from some American Christians has left a very bad taste in the mouth of “the world” (those who don’t share our faith tradition).

My friend Jaci was a marketing director for a software solution company. She had worked with the same business people for several years, individuals of diverse backgrounds and faiths. Over dinner one evening, it came out that Jaci was a Christian. Her comrades couldn’t believe it. They couldn’t believe that someone who was respectful, reasonable, professional and fun was part of that demographic of “American Christian.” Instead, they associated the label Christian with someone who was bigoted, sexist, homophobic, and judgmental. Fair or not, Christians have developed this reputation, partly due to our political discourse.

Maybe this negative association with Christianity is one reason that fewer Americans call themselves Christians, especially Protestant Christians, than 10 years ago (see Gallup poll). A study released last week by PRRI (Public Religion Research Institute) indicated that “[t]here are 20 states in which no religious group comprises a greater share of residents than the religiously unaffiliated.” I wonder if this exodus from Christianity and faith in general has to do with JFW’s question, “Are [evangelical Christians] more concerned about claiming our rights” than defending those of others?

President Trump must not have felt much criticism from his evangelical base when his immigration policies targeted Muslim majority nations despite statistics showing that foreign-born terrorist in America came much more often from countries not on Trump’s list (e.g. Saudi Arabia, United Arab Emirates, Egypt, and Lebanon). Why weren’t Christians standing up for freedom of religion and screaming discrimination? Some Christians did object, but others were more worried about their rights to refuse service to a same-sex couple wanting a wedding cake. Others were instead holding anti-Shariah rallies, worried about the “threat” of Muslims imposing their religion’s laws in pluralistic America (the pot calling the kettle black?).

Race and Political Discourse

Equally disturbing is that due to the strong support of evangelicals for Trump, Christians are also increasingly associated with racism. Does that mean that all Trump voters are racists? No, of course not. But there is considerable evidence that our president is and that his campaign both drew on racism and emboldened it.

Just hitting the web is Ta Nehesi Coates’s essay in the Atlantic: “The First White President: The Foundation of Donald Trump’s Presidency Is the Negation of Barack Obama’s Legacy.” He believes that someone like Trump was elected because the first Black president had been elected—that the Trump campaign took full advantage of racism among whites. With no holds barred, Coates argues that since the beginning of this country, poor whites in particular have been pitted against people of color. But whites at all income levels voted for Trump at a higher percentage than persons of color.

One has to wonder if the following would have occurred if Barack Obama had not been president: This month a Republican mayoral candidate in Charlotte, NC highlighted that she was white on her Facebook page:

 

Vote for me!

Kimberley Paige Barnette

Mayor of Charlotte 2017

Republican and smart, white, traditional

 

Fortunately, the chair of the state’s Republican party quickly condemned the use of skin color as a qualification for a political position. The fact that a candidate would even think of advertising herself in that way is highly disturbing.

Racist comments and accusations of racist comments have become part of our political discourse. This problem is not surprising since our country’s racist foundation will continue to underlie our societal structures and distribution of wealth well into our future.

I continue to look for candidates and commentators who strive for civil discourse even in these times of civic discord. 

Hard Pressed on Every Side

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It is an honor to be a conversation partner in this eCircle on “Reforming Political Discourse.” An esteemed list of contributors populate the line-up for the next nine inningsmonths (a little baseball joke for our moderator Harold), and I am sure that we will learn much from all of them. But let me be honestly upfront: I do not have a Ph.D. in journalism, communication studies, political science, or government. In fact, I don’t have a Ph.D. at all. What I do have is experience as a political activist in the most conservative county in Iowa. I have also spent 25 years imploring high school and college writing students to use words well—clearly, creatively, and hopefully morally. Given these passions, I do have opinions about how words are used in the American political arena. You may decide if my opinions are worth your consideration.

My assigned task is to respond to the clips from CNN and Fox News—to “analyze the current dismal state of political discourse.” Watching these two videos reminded me of why I spend so little time watching network “news.” There are so many disturbing aspects to these clips that it is hard to know where to begin. Whether these exchanges even fall under the term “political discourse” is up for debate. Merriam Webster defines discourse as a “verbal interchange of ideas.” The CNN clip might fit into that category. But neither clip fits the archaic definition: “the capacity of orderly thought or procedure.” Definitely not.

I will highlight a few of the evident problems in the featured pieces, and, when applicable, connect them to my own experience in local politics.

Problem Number 1: Blurred Lines Between News and Commentary

So, we have these so-called news networks. What does that label mean? In the olden days, the “news” was Walter Cronkite or Ted Koppel reporting, as objectively as they could, the events of the day. But today’s “news network” includes not only reporting but much commentary, commentary from invited “expert” guests but also from employees of the network itself.

It is problematic for consumers when it is not clear what is news (presented as objectively as possible) and what is commentary (a certain take or opinion on the news).  In the featured clips, the CNN (Cable News Network) and Fox News logos are constantly on the screen, suggesting that what you are seeing is news. The screen image of the Hannity Opening Monologue looks especially like traditional news reporting with the anchor filling one half of the screen and a squared graphic referencing the featured story on the other side.

The CNN segment looks like a host asking questions of expert guests. But Kate Bolduan is far from being the neutral moderator of yore.

Given the popularity of slanted news programming, the American public must find straight reporting too boring and unstimulating. But I find these blurred lines deeply problematic. They have lead us to believe the cries of “Fake News!” because so much that conveys itself as news is not.

As a writing instructor, I have witnessed a similar problem in the classroom. Writing straight summary is a very difficult task for many students. Without careful instruction and modeling, many young writers cannot capture the heart of a chapter, article, or event without incorporating their own opinion.

For true discourse to happen, we must understand the difference between fact and opinion and own up to what is what. The unwillingness of some members of the Right to acknowledge climate change is a loud case in point. It is sad that scientists need to hold marches in support of their field. And it is deeply disturbing that Sam Clovis, a man who has denied human contributions to climate change and has no degrees in the natural sciences, has been nominated to serve as chief scientist in President Trump’s Department of Agriculture.

Of course, both conservatives and progressives are guilty of presenting misleading information to advance their causes. It is especially understandable that news networks do whatever they can to gain viewers because they are commercial entities. But I don’t have to like their style, and we can choose to get our news elsewhere.

This blurring of news and commentary happens even in local papers. A few years ago, I emailed the editor of my local paper because news releases from our political representatives were appearing on the news pages of our paper when they were clearly opinion pieces and needed to be represented as such. (On the Opinion page. With bylines.) We need to continue to distinguish news from opinion, even when our news sources won’t do it for us.

Problem Number 2: Diversion from the Topic at Hand

The presidential debates of last year’s election showcased each candidate’s ability to swerve away from an uncomfortable question or topic. One practiced move involved ignoring the question and instead highlighting their own party’s achievement on a related matter. Another polished move involved ignoring the question and instead attacking the opponent. The two sides are like fighting spouses coming back at every charge, “Yeah, but YOU. . . .” Both moves make true political discourse or honest debate nearly impossible.

Both the Fox News and CNN segments held examples of avoiding the issue at hand. Fox commentator Sean Hannity quickly dismisses Donald Trump, Jr.’s meeting with a Russian lawyer who said that he had information to hurt Hillary Clinton’s campaign. As Hannity says, “[T]here was no smoking gun.”

Rather than exploring the concerns many Americans had about this meeting, Hannity quickly turns to past perceived improprieties of the Democrats: a DNC operative working with Ukrainian officials to boost Hillary Clinton, money from the Obama state department used by an Israeli political group against candidate Benjamin Netanyahu, and a uranium deal brokered by Clinton with the Russians that was followed by large Russian donations to the Clinton Foundation.

I do not have enough information to know whether election interference or other types of illegal deeds happened in the Trump-Russian contact or any of these other situations. All I know is that when the topic at hand is muddled by deflecting to other events, truth-pursuing political discourse is unlikely to occur.

In the CNN segment, host Kate Bolduan tries to get conservative guest Carl Higbie to address accusations that President Trump shared classified information with Russian government officials. Instead, Higbie focuses only on the anonymous sources testifying to what happened in Trump’s meeting. Higbie refuses to move on from that point, saying that if their information is reliable, they should go public.

I can understand the resulting anger and frustration of Bolduan. She vigorously defends the “stellar reporters of CNN” and their need to keep their sources anonymous. Those reporters did follow their profession’s professional code by verifying the information before reporting it. That same code allows for keeping sources anonymous when revealing the sources’ identities may present a risk.

Information would be much harder for journalists (and consequently the public) to obtain if there was the expectation to reveal all sources. As Iowa Republican Senator Grassley said in a town hall in Primghar, Iowa on Tuesday, “I love leaks.” Without leaks, important information about waste, fraud, and other unethical behavior would not come to light–as Bolduan said, “So that the information important to the public can get out.”

By attacking the concept of unrevealed sources, Carl Higbie was chopping at the base of the press, the fourth branch of government: “These stellar reporters of CNN, which I am going to attack right now, and say guess what, I don’t believe them because they are staying anonymous. If they stand behind the story, come out and face the camera.” As a former journalist, my blood boils when I hear these words. Of course, what we do and say when our blood boils makes all the difference.

Problem Number 3: Personal Attacks

Then there was yelling, the default tactic in so many battles. Clearly, there are things that make us so angry that many of us want to yell. The Bible includes the story of Jesus overturning tables in the temple (Mark 11; Matthew 21). The writers do not say that he yelled, but his expression of anger was very clear. But what I have learned as a teacher, a parent, and a political activist is that yelling does not foster healthy discourse. I regret few times when I was angry: there are many situations in which anger is an understandable and even righteous response. But I do regret some instances of yelling, instances that only proved my lack of self-control. Yelling turns conversation into drama (in the worst sense of the word)—a soap opera in which the focus turns from the subject at hand to the actors’ reactions. How far will the enraged person go in his or her language and behavior?

After Higbie attacks the anonymous sources and mocks the CNN reporters, host Kate Bolduan can’t hold it in any longer. She yells, she points in Higbie’s face, and at times she is trying to talk over two or three other people. At this point the show becomes more like the worst of reality TV than news programming.

Even though I strongly disagree with Carl Higbie’s suggestion that a news story is not credible when it won’t reveal sources, I do credit him with staying calm and not returning yelling for yelling.

Guest Keith Boykin, former aide in the Clinton White House, also stayed controlled in his tone. But as he disagreed with Higbie, he used shaming language/personal attacks, which, again, may attract viewers but distract from the issue being discussed. Boykin said to Higbie, “Carl, you’re embarrassing yourself. You’re embarrassing yourself, your party, and your country. You should not be doing this; you are a better person than this. I’m ashamed for you.” This public shaming made me uncomfortable and did not seem professional.

Back to the Fox segment: when Hannity lays out his argument for the hypocrisy of the Democrats and mainstream media who expressed concern over possible collusion, Hannity says, “What a bunch of phonies. What a bunch of hypocrites.” Again, name-calling lowers the level of argument to that of mean kids on the playground.

Whereas many politicians and media personalities have contributed to the current low level of political discourse, one person deserves the most credit, and that is our president, Donald Trump. Back already in December of 2015, David Noise wrote an article with the title, “Political Discourse is Getting Dangerously Anti-Intellectual: Image, Emotion, and Lack of Substance Define Politics Today.” Reading the following paragraph, I remember being shocked as Trump’s insults continued to make headlines:

The simplistic vilification of foreigners is just one aspect of the Trump candidacy’s anti-intellectualism, a characteristic that also reveals itself through the rejection of civility and maturity—with comments about Carly Fiorina’s appearance, the mocking of a reporter’s physical disability, and a menstrual reference while complaining about another reporter, to name just a few examples. It is a cultural and political milestone that voters have bestowed frontrunner status upon the man who declares his adversaries “losers” and “lowlifes.” Though the realm of politics has rarely been a noble profession in America, this kind of behavior by a leading candidate reflects low levels that few would have previously imagined.

Yet, we elected him. And since this style of political rhetoric has become not only acceptable but also rewarded, others have followed suit. Currently running for office in Iowa’s 3rd congressional district is Democratic candidate Heather Ryan. Due to her repeated profanity and crude name-calling of her Republican opponent, she was not invited to the Polk County Democratic steak fry because it is a “family-friendly event.” How bad is it when we are afraid of exposing our candidates to our children?

I long for a more excellent way.

One of the hardest things I have ever done is moderated a discussion of public funding for women’s health, an especially dicey subject here in Sioux County, Iowa. This discussion was part of an educational series hosted by the Sioux County Democrats, a series called Plain Conversation. Our topic for this month was chosen because the Republican-held state legislature was threatening to withhold all funding for family planning from any facilities that performed abortions (even though none of the government money went toward the performing of abortions). This change would, of course, halt any money from going to Planned Parenthood.

All three of our guest speakers were employees of Planned Parenthood: two came from Des Moines (four hours away) and one from nearby Sioux City. We asked them to explain what Planned Parenthood does, whom it serves, where its funding comes from, and how family planning in Iowa could change if the Iowa legislature rejected the federal family planning money so that it wouldn’t have to dispense money to Planned Parenthood.

Plain Conversation meetings are open to the public. Planned Parenthood opponents heard about our meeting and decided to attend. Knowing in advance that emotions would run high, our Democratic county leadership carefully planned rules for discourse. Here was my announcement at the beginning of the meeting:

Plain Conversation is a place where we become more educated about a topic affecting government and politics. We ask that you respectfully listen to the speakers who have traveled and given of their time to be here tonight. We will let them share their prepared remarks uninterrupted, and then there will be a time for questions. When that time comes, we ask that people raise their hands and wait to be called on. Then please limit your question or comment to no more than one minute. We in this room may have some differences of opinion, but our goal tonight is to have intelligent, respectful discourse about our topic. Thank you in advance for following these guidelines.

The expectations were clear. And for the most part, these rules were followed. During the Q and A, I tried to go back and forth between the raised hands of conservatives and progressives. A few times I needed to stop people from dominating the floor. Once when a man became angry because he was not allowed to continue speaking (saying, “I know my legal rights!”), I was able to calmly tell him that after speaking to the local police chief earlier today, I knew that I could ask him to leave if he didn’t respect our rules for discourse. Then I proceeded to invite the next person with her hand up to ask a question.

I don’t know if Planned Parenthood representatives had ever been to Sioux County, and if they had, were ever in the same room as committed pro-life conservatives. But during that Plain Conversation, opposing sides had no choice but to listen to each other. They had to hear each other’s questions and concerns and stories. Now I know that some people left angry that night. But that evening proved to me that everyday citizens participating in civic life can attempt to model and even insist on respectful discourse.

Of course, this eCircle intends to be just that: respectful discourse among people who differ. I love how this verse from Proverbs 12:18 says so much in so few words: “Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.” Wise tongues–just what the world needs.  

Without Question, It’s Worse

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Simply put, I’ll state right up front, from my limited perspective in this rural corner of Iowa, it’s worse than simply talking past each other.  There’s little question we are not talking to or with each other.  Moreover, even when polite—and many times that is not the case—we’re not having respectful conversations.  Try as I might, especially in the months since the election of Donald J. Trump as the 45th president of the United States, despite concerted efforts to have such conversations, I’ve largely failed.  Undoubtedly, some (maybe most) of that is my fault, but any dialogue takes two to transpire and so the blame is likely not entirely just mine to bear. 

Granted, many of these “conversations” have occurred online via the treacherous virtual reality known as Facebook (FB).  Maybe that’s my first mistake, can a healthy dialogue take place on social media?  This popular platform, as well as Twitter (among other digital means), are often considered key culprits in the erosion of our collective civil discourse.  Nevertheless, I persist.  For better or worse, FB has assumed a central, albeit virtual, “place” in our public life.  Among the countless timeline posts about kids or favorite sports teams (not to mention Plexus promotions or the latest recipe discoveries), is the occasional contribution to political commentary.  Granted, at least in my case, they may be more frequently than most.

Recently, an old high school friend said they didn’t understand what I was trying to accomplish with these various FB posts regarding the president and/or evangelicals.  I’d estimate around a quarter of my timeline content, if even that much, explores one or the other topic (the two, in my view, are bound together rather closely these days given 81% of white evangelicals cast a vote in favor of Trump).  While receiving considerable encouragement along the way as I post and comment on FB, I’ve also been told in no uncertain terms I’m a Trump “hater,” a leftist, generally lack context or simply have lost perspective in my self-righteous effort to shame family and friends.  I figure that sort of criticism goes with the territory; should it? 

Now, I too post my share of family stuff and a variety of innocuous material regarding either my beloved Seattle Seahawks or Kansas Jayhawks (go hawks), but I’m a political junkie, to be sure.  In addition to be a life-long, card carrying Republican, and generally of a conservative ideological bent, I’m a trained political scientist.  First and foremost, however, I’m a follower of Jesus, who cares deeply about public life or the classic notion of politics and, in particular, the witness of Christ’s bride, the church.

My persistence—some critics say I’m obsessed—in raising these concerns, of spotlighting what I see as the blind spots of evangelical participation in public life, was recently affirmed as I listened to a sermon series at my home church.  As I sat in the sanctuary, only a few weeks ago, I was reminded Paul challenged the members of the early church at Ephesus (the first sixteen verses of chapter 4) to live a life worthy of their calling; they each possessed different gifts, as do we.  This word of God spoke to me.  In essence, I thought, that is what I’m trying to do as a faculty member and dean of the social sciences where I teach and serve as well as in my broader public life, even on FB: faithfully follow God’s call.

The (Sorry) State of Political Discourse in America

Before saying anything more, let me first set the stage by making a few observations on two unremarkable, albeit illustrative YouTube clips that, if nothing else, epitomize much of what passes for contemporary political commentary.  Unsurprisingly, it matters not whether this discourse originates from the left or right of the partisan and/or ideological spectrum.  Both sides are culpable and complicit in the current state of affairs.

In some ways, it’s hard to say what the goal or purpose of either video clip really is.  In many ways, they’ve each in their own way become, sadly, a form or kind of entertainment?  Neither the shorter CNN clip nor the somewhat longer Sean Hannity monologue are educational in any serious sense of that word.  Let’s briefly consider each of them, in turn, after which I’ll take some time to address (in the next section) the question of bias, and (in the section after that) questions of audience, rhetorical tools, and what, if anything, is worthy of compliment or, more likely (hint, hint), criticism.  I’ll offer some final thoughts, then, in a concluding section.

The CNN roundtable discussion was at best a three-on-one debate that is better described as a shouting match, a much too common occurrence for such formats.  Hosted by anchor Kate Boldaun (who I must confess I was unfamiliar with; our family doesn’t subscribe to cable and I seldom, if ever, watch CNN), the argument centered on unnamed sources in a story late last spring over whether President Trump inadvertently, and possibly quite carelessly, divulged classified information to two Russian diplomats visiting the White House Oval Office. 

The subject of Boldaun’s roundtable while important was less of an issue for me than the way in which the topic was discussed.  It had all the earmarks and echoes, not to mention subtly, of cable shows like Hardball or, formerly, The McLaughlin Group, may it rest in peace.  Exchanges like these are, simply put, decidedly unhelpful.  It recalls the epic 2004 Jon Stewart takedown of Paul Begala and Tucker Carlson where the Comedy Central star pleaded with the Crossfire hosts to just stop…because they were hurting America!  Unfortunately, his advice has not been heeded by producers and participants on such shows.  Truth be told, those who tune-in to such drivel deserve to be admonished too; without an audience, there’d be no market.

A secondary concern for me is the purveyor of this particular YouTube clip.  As troubling, and unwittingly ironic, as Boldaun’s CNN International program “State of America” might be, The PolitiStick describes itself as a team of movement conservatives that will “hit back at the news makers and news breakers for their bias, corruption, and dishonesty.”  In my estimation, The PolitiStick constitutes a growing number of fringe organizations or endeavors representative of more extreme views in society than the mass middle of America where most citizens reside.

Not only has the 24/7 news cycle given rise to a need—airtime must be filled—but the increased competition for eyeballs, page views and/or click throughs clearly heightens an understandable temptation to highlight those who are willing to say the most outlandish and controversial things.  Moreover, the digital age and cyberspace has provided an opportunity for the shrillest voices and most unhinged among us to easily communicate their message.  The PolitiStick, somewhat predictably, revels in their bias and irreverence.

This leads to another observation, one that is depicted even more effectively by the second video clip of FOX news featuring Sean Hannity.  It captures nicely what U.S. Senator Ben Sasse has aptly dubbed “weaponizing distrust” and animates the ubiquitous charge of fake news these days.  All broadcast organizations have a bias, even FOX, but many citizens no longer believe journalists can report day-to-day happenings or developments in an objective or neutral fashion.  Is that still possible?  Call me naïve, but I believe it is.  There should be a shared reservoir of facts even in the midst of an onslaught of opinion.   Bias is not the same thing as fake news, which are stories made up out of whole cloth with no interest or intention other than in sowing confusion and spreading disinformation.

Charitably, even Hannity’s opening monologue on the Russia collusion story in the wake of the revelation/allegation of Donald Trump, Jr.’s involvement isn’t fake news, despite being terribly one-sided and not surprisingly partisan (Philip Bump at The Washington Post wrote an even-handed and wonderfully balanced response to the “Clinton and Ukraine did it, too” excuse).  Sadly, more than anything else, Hannity is weaponizing distrust.  If my experience is typical, you only have to read the letters to the editor section of any local or regional paper to see these false or misleading narratives repeated with some regularity.

The Question of Bias

This leads to one last comment, before taking up the task of answering who the audience might be for these respective video clips, the rhetorical tools employed in each one and some constructive criticism, particularly, of the Hannity monologue.  The observations that follow build on the usual conceptualization of bias as well as the claim that FOX (to say nothing of Breitbart or InfoWars) is not as fair and balanced as they like to say.  This contention is likely to get me in trouble with my fellow Republicans, conservatives and, ostensibly, a great many evangelicals.  What’s new? 

It is but one example of why I’m often referred to as a RINO (Republican in name only).  In my defense, I’d submit that all followers of Jesus should be so labelled.  Here’s what I’m getting at.  Are we’re honestly heeding the advice, of sorts,  Vice President Mike Pence offers where we are to be Christians, conservatives and Republicans, in that order?  It seems to me, if we are, that all evangelicals would be RINOs of a sort given their ultimate loyalty lies elsewhere as citizens first and foremost of God’s kingdom. 

But back to FOX news.  Don’t misunderstand, I’m not saying the other three MSM networks are any better, some might argue they are worse, but that’s beside the point.  Carl Trueman at Westminster Theological Seminary wrote a delightful little book a few years back called: Republocrat—Confessions of a Liberal Conservative (2010).  Among his considerations, he devoted a chapter to media bias and playfully entitled it “The Not-so-Fantastic Mr. Fox” in light of a box office hit at the time as well as the assumed go-to news source for Christians.

His point is not, as some assume, to pick on FOX; rather it is to suggest evangelical viewers temper their enthusiasm.  Trueman was surprised to find upon arriving in the U.S. (he’s a native of Great Britain), that many new-found friends and congregants were advising him that there was only one place to get the unvarnished truth.  Eager to see and hear this for himself, Trueman soon discovered otherwise and subsequently argues “not that Christians abandon one biased news channel for another; rather it is Christians above all people [who] should take seriously their responsibility as citizens and make every effort to find out as much as they can about the issues that matter.”  This requires more than a single source or vantage point. 

As importantly, all citizen consumers of the news need to recognize every outlet has a bias, one that goes beyond partisan or ideological predispositions.  We must not forget that the media is an economic enterprise, a business with a bottom-line.  Structural bias is inherent in the news as a consequence of the standard practices of journalism.  Patterns of coverage that consistently appear in reporting are the result of built-in limitations, constraints and demands associated with delivering the news (an instructive exercise is to contrast and compare the PBS News Hour on the local public channel to the same-day coverage on any of the big four commercial networks—ABC, CBS, FOX or NBC).

Structural bias, in other words, is a consequence of the medium itself.  It appears differently in electronic or digital formats than it does in print and is especially important when it comes to television/cable news since this is where most people get their information.  The sources of structural bias include: corporate influence, entertainment values (including the demand for interesting visuals,) time limitations, and the definition of what is newsworthy.  While partisan and ideological biases are not to be dismissed, they are not the only source of distortion.  Bias of this structural variety, while less often understood if even acknowledged by most viewers, is an important reality to keep in mind too.

Audience, Rhetoric, Oh My…

As far as the target audience of these two video clips, both the CNN and FOX segments seem primarily focused on viewers who are of a like-mind.  This suggests the goal of these efforts may well be one of affirmation or reinforcement; it is clearly not one of persuasion.  The problem of “talking past each other” is complicated to begin with by the fact that in many cases the two sides aren’t even talking to each other.  Increasingly, this is reflective of a dynamic that’s been described as “the big sort.”  First coined by journalist Bill Bishop in his 2008 book of the same name, it describes a phenomenon whereby Americans are choosing to associate, more so than ever, with people who are largely like themselves.

This becomes problematic in perpetuating the myth of a so-called culture war.  As Morris Fiorina and his colleagues have demonstrated rather persuasively in their research findings, even when it comes to the most polarizing issues of the day (think abortion or gay marriage), the vast majority of the public is closely divided, not deeply divided.  The distribution of beliefs present as a normal bell curve as opposed to a bi-modal division of views, which would be expected in a more polarized environment.  It’s not that political elites aren’t engaged in a culture war, they are, but the extent or scale is far less prevalent than most would assume given much of the media coverage and political discourse.

The apparent dilemma—and why things are likely worse, or soon will be, than simply talking past one another—is found in that these perceptions of a culture war may well become a self-fulfilling prophecy, of sorts.  If those holding differing positions on some of our most pressing or contentious problems never encounter or interact with anyone on “the wrong side” (this hilarious yet pointed op-ed is well worth the read), in other words, if the two sides don’t talk, aren’t in relationship, how will either one ever discover that on many issues they are not as far apart as they’ve been led to believe or have assumed all along? 

And if the myth of a polarized America isn’t bad enough, James Davison Hunter reminds us culture wars precede civil wars.  Before the Shooting Begins (1994) makes an argument that rings true as much today as it did two decades ago, maybe more.  A conflict of this severity remains quite unlikely, but it should not be considered an impossiblility and events over the first few months of the Trump administration suggest as much.

The rhetorical tools employed in each of these video clips appear to emphasize pathos, almost to the exclusion of logos or ethos.  Emotion, characterized by anger or hate, seems to drive much of the discourse as opposed to logic or expertise.  Moreover, Hannity’s monologue epitomizes a classic example of an argument based on redirection.  Not wanting to take on squarely the poor judgment, if not ethical lapse, displayed by Donald Trump Jr. in agree to meet with a Russian attorney who supposedly had dirt to dish on his father’s presidential campaign opponent, Hannity shifts his audience’s attention to the alleged malfeasance and misdeeds of Hillary Clinton as well as those working on her behalf.

Ed Stezter, who works with Lifeway Research and is a regular contributor to Christianity Today, recently speculated on why Christians are unable to critique President Trump.  Given so many (especially evangelicals) voted for him, he suspects this reveals a kind of “Rorshach test” where many Christians, rather than take the president to task, prefer to focus on the sins or misdeed of others out of a misguided sense of loyalty. 

In addition to arguments of redirection or loyalty (such as Hannity utilized), the worst kind, in Stetzer’s view is when Christians engage in arguments of deduction.  These can be particularly pernicious because of their potentially idolatrous nature.  Deductive arguments, of course, move from a general statement to a specific instance.  If the premise is that Trump is correct, then what he says or does must be right.  As Stetzer writes, “If you have elevated President Trump…to a level that you will not speak out when egregious, divisive errors are made, then you are showing the world your god is not the King of Kings, but a commander-in-chief.”   

Not surprisingly, I found very little, if anything, worth complimenting in either of the videos.  As my observations/comments above should make clear, however, there is much deserving of criticism in both the CNN and FOX clips.  Some might take exception with what is viewed as my disproportionate focus on FOX and Hannity, seeing as I’m supposed to engage this respectful conversation from the right of center.  Let me explain.  It has always seemed to me that the beginning of a healthy discourse must start with me or my side.  Removing the plank from our eye before zeroing in on the speck in someone else’s eye, seems prudent if not wise, not to mention biblical (Matthew 5:7).

It’s not the first time, nor will it likely be the last, that I take Republicans or conservatives or evangelicals to task.  These are my people and as such I should have more to say to them in levelling constructive, yet loving, criticism.  Without question, it isn’t always received (or possibly delivered) in that way, whether on Facebook or face-to-face, but that is my intention.  Confrontation, while seldom, if ever, pleasant or enjoyable, can nevertheless be civil and is often necessary.  If nothing else, the church and its members should be modelling for the wider world how to better disagree.  I’m not confident we do that as often or as well as we should be.

Engaging Democracy: Living Into this Reality

So, even though I believe things are worse than simply talking past each other, I’m still hopeful and (most days) encouraged by efforts to maintain a faithful presence in an increasingly post-Christian culture.  I’ve always liked the dual meaning of the phrase, engaging democracy.  Not only does it reference the importance of participating in the political process, it as importantly raises the prospects of making the democratic experience more attractive or appealing.  For that to happen, however, we must at a minimum reform our political discourse. 

Consider the following questions: are evangelical Christians more likely to be considered part of the problem or part of the solution today when it comes to engaging democracy?  Are we known by our love or have we let the world press us into its political mold?  Are we more concerned about claiming our rights or known for fulfilling our responsibilities?  Are we truly and honestly concerned about who our neighbor is and how they are doing?  While many followers of Jesus answer such inquires in the affirmative, I’m not sure I can always and I’m fairly certain that is the case for a vast majority of fellow believers.  It is but one reason why I eagerly anticipate next month’s subtopic, as subsequent conversation partners explore the prospects of a Christian political discourse.

Virtue, of course, remains a vitally important element in this grand experiment of American democracy, but is it government’s responsibility to make its citizens good?  No, of course not.  Among the various members of civil society, none is more important than the church, in my estimation.  The much-maligned separation of church and state is a good thing in so far as each institution performs its respective role: the church contributing to the common good and the state maintaining the sovereignty of each sphere—business, education, family—in society. In the words of WW2 German martyr, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “the church is only the church when it exists for others.”

I suspect the bitter division in the church today comes down to the latent split in American evangelicalism that has emerged ever more clearly over the past several months and gets highlighted by tragic events such as Charlottesville, among others.  On the one hand, there are many of my friends and family as well as VP Pence and the evangelical advisory council (e.g., Robert Jeffress, Jerry Falwell, Jr., Paula White, etc.) who tend to stand with the president.  On the other hand, I find greater affinity with the message of Noel Castellanos, Russel Moore and Scott Arbeiter (not to mention 160 Wheaton College professors) who are quicker to dissent, if not condemn, Trump.

Despite all appearances to the contrary, hope remains.  There is no good reason, it seems to me, more of us shouldn’t heed the guidance provided by Jeremiah 29 and seek the peace and prosperity of the “city” by living in the midst of those who do not share our faith, yet serving them faithfully nonetheless. Evangelical followers of Jesus might increasingly feel like aliens or foreigners in our own land, but given our status as sojourners—not to mention citizens of heaven—should this matter?  Must we demand to take our country back (whatever that means) or do we simply live into a new reality as exiles actively awaiting the redemption and recreation of all things? 

As N.T. Wright provocatively posits, Jesus “saw as pagan corruption the very desire to fight paganism.”  In my view, engaging democracy is part and parcel of living responsibly in the world, while still not being part of it.  In other words, being wise as a serpent, yet gentle as a dove.  It is, as this concluding section suggests, about maintaining a faithful presence in an increasingly diverse and pluralistic country (re: James Davison Hunter’s argument in To Change the World). 

Besides, the light is winning.  Sure, darkness surges from time to time, but the advance of the kingdom is assured.  Since launching this restorative project, as recorded in Luke 4 (i.e., the so-called Nazareth Manifesto), the light shines in and through the countless partial and imperfect efforts of kingdom citizens, who through the power of the spirit reflect Jesus—the Light of the world—into the various crooks and crannies of a broken and hurting creation. 

As his disciples, followers of Jesus are to be doing on earth as is done in heaven, right?  At a minimum, then, evangelical discourse ought to do better.  In demanding more, it is critical we learn how to disagree well.  Moreover, this means we must be mindful of public life as we go about the work of bringing heaven to earth, because Christians are saved for, not from, a wary world that is closely watching us.

News Reports

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Here we have two news reports.

Report number one:

Report number two:

Topic #1: Talking Past each Other or Worse

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In preparation for a conversation about the possibility of a “Christian Approach to Political Discourse” (subtopic A2), we will first analyze the current dismal state of political discourse, as illustrated by the reactions of two conversation partners to two reports (presented below) on a recent political news story: One report from a left-leaning commentator and one report from a right-leaning commentator.

Leading Questions: What are the goals of these reports? What audiences are they appealing to? What rhetorical tools are being employed? What do you find to be helpful in these reports? What do you criticize in these reports?

  • Jeff VanDerWerff, Professor of Political Science, Northwestern College, Iowa
    • Essay: September 1
    • Response to Kim Van Es: Due September 10
    • Response to Kim Van Es: Due September 20
  • Kim Van Es, Chair, Sioux County (Iowa) Democrats
    • Essay: September 1
    • Response to Jeff VanDerWerff: Due September 10
    • Response to Jeff VanDerWerff: Due September 20

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