In his book Return of the Strong Gods, First Things editor Rusty Reno suggests that we are nearing the end of the long 20th century and, with it, the end of the American-centric global order that defined the latter stage of that era. It was a world pervasively defined by a fusion of capitalist economics and liberal democratic politics. The Pax Americana protected and preserved this order, with America seeking to draw as many nations into it as possible because the alternative was seeing plausible trading partners instead brought into closer alignment with the Soviet Union. And so it was ultimately a world marked by what the political commentator Peter Zeihan describes as a bribe, a bribe much of the world accepted. Trade in thick national or regional identities, trade in strong religious claims, and trade in any other sort of thick communal markers that instill a sense of purpose and grandeur in your community, give all that up to join the American liberal free market revolution, and in return you will receive personal peace and affluence.

Many took the bribe because, for a long time, the Americans were able to deliver. Under the globalized order, wealth, standards of living, life expectancy, and public health soared. Beneath the hood, as it were, there were reasons to worry. Mass industrialization transformed the way people worked and the conditions under which they worked. (And the first generation or two of industrialization is often especially hellish.) Mass urbanization meant collapsing birth rates. And increased use of and dependence on fossil fuels meant a warming, changing planet. But the benefits of life under the American peace were so great that most people tended to minimize or accept these costs as a necessary evil if one wished to lay hold of the bounteous benefits of the American-led order.

The difficulty is that this regime was never going to be able to last. The Soviet Union collapsed. So the reason for the order, from an American perspective, was gone. Moreover, post-industrial, post-urban birthrates cannot be indefinitely sustained and the threats of climate change meant that our way of life was always going to have to change.

So: What happens when living standards flatline or begin to dip, when life expectancy declines, and the state-backed benefit system cannot be adequately maintained due to a lack of workers? In short, what happens when the bribe that made the trade worthwhile stops delivering?

Answer: We’re about to find out.

The End of Personal Peace and Affluence and Emergence of the Civilizational State

The global market crash of 2008 was a body blow to the global economic order which suggested that the era of indefinite prosperity aided and abetted by global markets, industrialization, and urbanization was not permanent. Then came Brexit, the Trumpist turn in American politics (which actually continued the trend of growing American isolationism that began with President Obama), and COVID. In each case, circumstances arose which suggested to the world’s nations that perhaps this globalized order was no longer serving them as it once did. Then the power that had been the defining reason for that order’s emergence in the first place, Russia, went to war with Ukraine and the gears of the order were further jammed by a large-scale land war in eastern Europe—something which hadn’t been seen in decades—and which came with massive ramifications for European industry. Pair the economic disruptions in Europe with the long-standing issues in China due to Xi’s zero COVID policy, and you have significant breakdowns in the global economic system.

When that happens, people start trying to unwind the trade their parents, grandparents, or great grandparents made. People start trying to regain what they lost, just as Herman Bavinck warned they would in an address to the Dutch church given in 1911. If you unleash the dissolving acid of liberal capitalism on the world, eventually people are going to miss what they have lost and will start trying to get it back. This has led to the slow emergence of what Australian pastor Mark Sayers, channeling political theorist Samuel Huntington, calls “civilizational states.”

Civilizational states might be understood as the reassertion of national politics over and against the globalized order but, crucially, coming after globalization has done its work. So the things that industrialized capitalism dissolved are mostly still dissolved. But now we want meaning-making communities back, we want thick community life back, we want rich shared common life back. But it cannot be picked up like something set aside in a box long ago, now to be reclaimed. Rather, the goods those now forgotten communities offered must be rediscovered through contrived communities. Enter “the civilizational state.”

Sayers continued to define the “civilizational state,” in this way:

Huntington’s argument is that modernization will lead to a cultural resurgence. Modernization means a society increases its economic, military, and political power. So we become more modern, we can conquer nature. We advance in science. But for the individual this means that they will be alienated and disconnected from the things which gave them meaning—place, religion, culture… those tribal bonds. This would lead to an identity crisis.

He goes on to say:

Huntington said that we would go through (the end of history) and then try to negotiate a new kind of modern living, a new kind of modern being, of interacting with the world, which would try to bring back identities of the past and lead to this cultural and religious resurgence. So modernization will inevitably not lead to a secular future where people aren’t animated by culture and civilization but actually it would lead to a rediscovery of those previous things.

In other words, the apparatuses of modernity would be put in service of many of the pre-modern “strong gods,” thereby creating something largely new: “civilizational states.”

Russia, of course, is one model of a civilizational state—it attempts (dishonestly and rather fruitlessly so far) to present itself as a vehicle for sustaining the old world of European Christendom contra the ascent of western progressivism. Hungary and, to some degree, Poland fill a similar niche here. And, of course, there is more than a little of this same appeal in the ascent of white Christian nationalism in the United States.

The argument these actors make is that we can regain our national vibrancy if we ditch the multiculturalist pluralism of the post-1960s world and return to a thicker sense of American identity, one in which propositional nationhood is either marginal or outright rejected in place of something driven by “culture,” which is often a shorthand for ethnicity and race. In this frame, we need to recover the sort of folk civil religionwith its modified and accommodated Christianity that defined our nation for much of its history.

On the other hand, the states central to the globalization project are also evolving toward their own sorts of civilizational states. But in their case, the civilizational state being created is essentially neo-liberal open society economics wedded to a more hard-line and explicit social progressivism, what many on the American right now refer to as “woke capital.”

The hope for those states attempting this task is that appeals to social justice will neutralize any calls for economic justice, thereby allowing the neoliberal system to grind on. The most striking symbol of this, perhaps, is the fact that the author of the bestselling book on racial issues during the George Floyd protests in the summer of 2020 was a… white corporate diversity consultant who works with Fortune 500 companies.

But there are far more examples we might consider. Recall how Britain has linked sexual progressivism to its “British values” campaign in its targeting of Christian schools. Or note how Canada has aggressively moved against sexual traditionalists in its own politics, by doing things such as refusing to admit graduates of orthodox Christian law schools to the Canadian bar. Ross Douthat described the move two years ago when this attempt to fuse social progressivism with neoliberal economics became unmistakably obvious.

Should this version of a civilizational state triumph in America or elsewhere in Europe, Canada, Australia, or New Zealand, then the managerial elite that oversaw globalization and benefitted economically from its success will remain entrenched and in place. They will just be slightly more diverse in terms of race and gender identity (but far less diverse intellectually) and they will pay fealty to the right progressive causes, which in turn gives their movement a veneer of justice through which they can make their own sort of civilizational state-style appeal.

There is more than an echo here of Emmanuel Katongole’s radical critique of the nation-state in African politics. In The Sacrifice of Africa Katongole argues that the nation-state failed in Africa because it effectively re-entrenched colonial norms by simply changing the last names of the colonial overlords from European surnames to African. Likewise in our own moment, the progressive account of the civilizational state effectively amounts to changing the last names and gender identities of the capitalist class in hopes that workers won’t notice that the interests of capital are still being preserved and advanced at their expense.

This is the moment we find ourselves in. The strong gods are back and their aesthetic appeal to the masses is undeniable. We lived without the strong gods for decades and now as they return many predictably find them deeply appealing. Whether calling people toward the rainbow flag or the stars and bars, both represent the reassertion of humanity’s need for a collective, common pursuit of truth and the desire to order common life to reflect these higher goods.

Whither Christianity Under the Civilizational State?

This poses a challenge for Christian believers on several distinct levels.

To begin, the return of the strong gods forces us to confront a foe that we have, in some ways, forgotten how to fight. The Christian response to the claims of the strong gods is not to make Christianity subservient to them, as some recent books have done, but rather to insist that the claims of the strong gods are not ultimate, that the claims of Christ stand over and above them, and that if the strong gods will not repent and be baptized, which will also mean that their claims must be relativized by the divine claims made known to us through revelation, then they too will go to hell. But because we are somewhat out of practice at resisting such foes, too many western believers are now embracing one iteration of the civilizational state or another, sometimes willfully and sometimes out of ignorance.

This raises another more pressing problem. Another reason many are now being seduced by these ideologies is that we in the American church have long struggled with basic Christian discipleship. The challenge before us is the natural consequence of our failures in this task. How did we come to fail in such a basic element of the Christian life and Christian communal formation?

Well, in many ways we took our own version of Zeihan’s bribe. For the vast majority of churches, the globalized moment was a comfortable one in which the hard claims of Christian morality, whether those ran toward sexuality or toward wealth and generosity, were largely muted to better accommodate the order. Christians essentially found ways of reconciling themselves to the system in ways that ostensibly maintained their Christian commitments while also avoiding any real consequences or conflict with the neoliberal regime.

There are many examples we might cite of this failure. Managerial jobs and practices that almost certainly violated Christian conceptions of work and wealth were effectively baptized and deemed licit without a great deal of thought or reflection, becoming just another kind of vocation, no different than any other. As long as you didn’t do obviously wrong things at the company Christmas party and as long as you thought the right way about your job, what the company actually did was largely immaterial.

Likewise, cultural scripts and practices that normalized contraception, the redefining of sex itself, and the breakdown of the family were, likewise, accepted by many Christians without a great deal of thought or critique. This all had the effect of conditioning many Christians to situate their Christianity within some larger ideology, constraining and limiting the claims of Christ to better accommodate their place in the world.

As civilizational states have risen, those old tendencies have simply reasserted themselves, though the problems inherent in them are far more obvious today because the claims made by these states have become more all-encompassing. The globalized order was in many ways engineered to maximize lifestyle options for individuals. The civilizational state is very much not built for that. And so the veneer of neutrality under which Christian convictions were often concealed is wearing away and the conflicts between Christian teaching and civilizational state proclamations are becoming sharper, with the predictable outcome being that Christian partisans of each civilizational state are now searching for revisionistic methods of accommodating Christianity to their preferred civilizational state.

The unhappy outcome is that many pastors and Christian leaders now find themselves confronting mass right-wing political capture in their churches, complete with the reassertion of racism, xenophobia, and ethnic hatreds. Meanwhile, others find themselves facing mass left-wing political capture in their churches, and the reinterpretation of Christianity to accommodate therapeutic culture and sexual progressivism in which Jesus essentially becomes a therapeutic crutch and pastors are synonymous with therapists. Thus the Christian life comes to be seen as a means for helping us be “our best selves” as defined by therapeutic concepts, such as mental and emotional health, self-actualization, and so on.

Churches, then, must confront these problems, which ought to have been taken more seriously decades ago, and attempt to disciple their people away from both right-wing and left-wing civilizational states. And yet precisely because we are now facing civilizational states rather than a kind of naked neoliberalism, the problem becomes that much harder, for the claims of the civilizational states are stronger and more robust than anything the post-Cold War era could offer.

But that raises a second problem, which is the problem of common life and Christian faith. We will not be saved by a kind of automated reflex that simply positions ourselves opposite to whichever civilizational state is ascendant in our home place. If your church is in a blue community, you will not be saved by embracing Christoamericanism. And if your church is in a red community, you will not be saved by adopting the norms of therapeutic culture and expressive individualism. Both moves will, rather, destroy your church by encouraging your people toward discipleship to something that isn’t Jesus.

The Church Against the Civilizational State

What is needed is something more careful, more rooted in historic Christian thought, and more grounded in the life of actual Christian community, for it is only such community that will give each of us the resilience and strength we need to survive this moment.

Indeed, part of the difficulty is that both dominant civilizational states on offer right now contain elements of truth. The left-wing civilizational state is right to recognize that older forms of managerialism were often corrosive of mental and emotional health, that they left virtually no space for weakness and vulnerability, and that just societies are ones which can provide a sense of place and purpose not only for the gifted and healthy, but for the weak and the marginalized. Likewise, the right-wing civilizational state is right to recognize that we owe particular and unique debts to those closest to us and that a certain joy in the distinctiveness of one’s home place is good.

Thus the church needs ways of helping her members to name and recognize real goods that our various sub-cultures outside the church are pursuing, while also warning them off against the inherently idolatrous way in which the civilizational states are distorting those goods.

What is needed, then, is a recovery of a properly Christian conception of not just ecclesial life, but the common life of peoples more generally. Fortunately, we have ample reasons to draw from in attempting this admittedly challenging task.

One fruitful approach, though not the only one we might take, comes from the 17th century Reformed theorist Johannes Althusius. For Althusius, the purpose of politics is simply this: It is to take our necessary and unavoidable social relationships and insure they are delightful and mutually beneficial. His core insight, though it is not unique to him and is really ubiquitous in Christian political thought prior to the modern era, is that none of us can live entirely autonomous lives. We eat food we didn’t grow, wear clothes we didn’t make, live in houses we did not build, and so on. “We didn’t build that,” you might say, if you wanted to be provocative about it.

But the fact that we can’t live autonomously does not in itself mean that our relationships will be healthy, enjoyable, or even necessarily beneficial. Relationships can be extractive or parasitic just as easily, perhaps even more easily, as they can be symbiotic or mutually delightful. So the work of politics, understood this way, is the work of making our necessary and unavoidable social relationships healthy.

A second insight, also from Althusius, follows from the first: Healthy societies are built out of many smaller societies. Though many forms of modern politics often act as if the only entities that exist in a society are “individuals” and “the state,” this is not so if you’re a Christian. Christianity at minimum would suggest that we have three types of societies in the world—the family, the church, and the government. Those, at least, are all explicitly established and endorsed in Scripture. But you can easily argue that there are a variety of other small societies you and I might be part of.

To take three examples, those of us who for a firm of some kind are part of a community there that is pursuing some good together in our work. Another form of community might be organized labor—what we might have called “guilds” in the early modern era and today might refer to as labor unions. In a capitalist society, unifying workers is an important form of social solidarity that helps to protect the masses from the predations of the capitalist class.

Finally, we might also speak about philanthropic social bodies that exist for some sort of altruistic social purpose that exists outside of or tangential to the market economy. That said, in order to keep this initial foray as short as I reasonably can, I want to limit my proposals for now to three primary arenas.

Families and Home-Based Economies

First, we need to consider the lives of households. The family, after all, is the first community any of us will belong to. In this particular sense, the family then comes before the church, for we are baptized into the church after we are born and the local Christian congregations we belong to must be created synthetically by people banding together to plant a church. Not so the family, which will reproduce itself organically across time. What makes for strong families?

Well, one answer that springs immediately to mind is families that spend time together and share common work together will be both more relationally connected and potentially more economically self-sufficient. To be sure, there’s no shortage of bad thinking about what this can look like in practice. Many of the champions of “home-based” economies are either residential landlords or have some other unusual financial situation, such as a past as a professional gambler. Expecting most Christian families to be landlords or to benefit from the proceeds of gambling winnings is not realistic. Further, many of the communities that most loudly champion the home-based economy are themselves existing parasitically off the very sort of big government or big tech firms they so regularly criticize: Learn more about my financially independent agrarian family by joining my 10,000 Substack subscribers for only $5/month! So what I am saying here shouldn’t be mistaken as a blanket affirmation of everyone who talks about family-based economies. There is no shortage of LARPing in that world.

Even so, the baseline principle that families ought to spend time together and that they ought to work together seems correct to me—and is deeply in keeping with historic practices of many human communities across time.

What this will look like in practice can vary dramatically, so there shouldn’t be a hard law of what the “right” structure is, nor should families for whom this is not possible be ostracized or regarded as second-class. We have spent the better part of two centuries building an economic system founded on inhumanity and so it would be foolish to expect a small cadre of Christian families to deconstruct all of that in a generation. Even with all these caveats in mind, a few principles seem worth articulating:

  • If possible, it is good for fathers and mothers to find ways of working from home at least part of the time so as to allow more informal day to day interaction with each other and their children as well as more regular meals together at home. Failing that, finding ways to live in close proximity to their office is the next best thing.
  • It is good for families to build up assets in the form of physical goods that can provide long-term, multi-generational security to a family, rather than simply working for wages.
  • Where possible, it’s good to have small, home-based businesses that bring in some extra income and allow the family to work together doing actually productive economic work.
  • It is also good if church members can support one another in these endeavors through both their buying habits and other forms of counsel and aid.

The idea here is simply that we should find ways of locating our work within a more human scale.

A further benefit from this approach is that it encourages a certain sort of entrepreneurialism and self-belief that is badly needed in healthy orthodox Christian communities. One effect of living under neoliberalism was that it became easy to develop the idea that Christian discipleship could lead one to a life of relative comfort, despite all the plain teachings of Scripture that tell us this is not so. The civilizational state era is going to remove that illusion of easy discipleship. But if we are to survive under harder circumstances, we will need to be more resilient, both spiritually and economically. A greater emphasis on simply being present in one’s home, living close to work and church, being available to one’s neighbor, and building up some measure of entrepreneurial self-sufficiency would all be enormously helpful.

Churches and a Common Rule

One of the chief difficulties that arose for church life under the neoliberal order is that churches became program-driven. There are a variety of reasons for this that I’ve written about elsewhere. The main point to understand here however is simply this: In program-driven churches, the chief way one participates in the life of the church is either through helping run and maintain programs or by being a consumer of the programming. In the former, your participation has more to do with availability and competence than Christian maturity. In the latter, your participation is almost entirely passive and asks very little of you. It should come as no surprise that an era of church life functioning under these rules did not generally produce robust, mature, well-formed followers of Jesus.

So as we enter this new era, we will need to adopt practices individually and communally that help us actually grow in Christian maturity, rather than simply developing habits of participating in and consuming church programming. The best tool I’ve seen for doing this so far is the concept of a “common rule” or “rule of life”, which I’ve seen articulated most clearly by Justin Whitmel Earley and John Mark Comer, though I don’t know how much, if at all, the two of them have worked together. For both of them, a rule of life is understood not as a collection of rules (plural), but rather as a single guide to life that is anchored in certain practices aimed at cultivating certain habits. (In this sense, I suspect there’s actually a great deal of overlap between Earley and Comer and someone like Charlotte Mason.)

These practices are specifically aimed at helping us to grow more like Jesus—more defined by the traits Paul lists as the fruit of God’s spirit in us in his epistles, things like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. John Mark Comer’s work on this can be heard on his podcast. Earley’s work can be found in his book The Common Rule. This resource may also be helpful for defining what a common rule could look like as adopted in both an individual household or in a church community. Specifically, I think we need to adopt practices collectively within churches of detaching ourselves from our phones, dining together regularly, and adopting other communal practices together. Here a reinvigorated interest in traditional liturgical practices and the church year may both be helpful as somewhat less arbitrary ways of giving shape to our common life.

A Different Kind of National Greatness

Finally, we turn to politics. Rightly understood, there is no conflict between household economies, churches committed to a rich common rule, and an involvement in local or national politics. This is because the government is ordained by God to fulfill certain roles—to reward the good and punish the evil, to be a “nursing father,” as the Westminster Confession puts it, and to help make it easier for the citizens of that polity to be good through the enacting of wise policies and preservation of civil peace.

The difficulty before us in our politics now is that both parties frequently behave as if they are not governed by the rule of law, do not much care about the rule of law, and also routinely promote policies and norms that run against Christian ideas of what the law ought to be, either through their cold indifference to the plight of immigrants and the poor or through a shockingly violent posture toward the human body, marriage, and the family.

One common response to this in the church has been an attempt to double down on a kind of Reaganite Christian conservatism founded on a basically libertarian attitude toward civil society and markets wed to a high concern with character in civil servants. Amongst the champions for this strategy are David French, Paul Miller, and Brian Mattson. (Russell Moore might also fit here, though he’s a bit harder to pin down in some ways both because of his past working for Blue Dog Democrats and because of his deep appreciation for Wendell Berry, which usually implies some more critical postures toward Reaganism.) It’s also a view you’ll find regularly expressed in places like The Dispatch and The Bulwark, which is likely not a coincidence as those two magazines are effectively rebooted versions of Obama-era (or earlier) National Review and the now defunct Weekly Standard.

This strategy will fail. The reason is simple: The sort of Reaganite Christian political theology these men affirm thrived, if one can even give it that much credit, in an extremely particular sort of political soil. Under the conditions of Zeihan’s bribe—exchange the strong gods and receive personal peace and affluence—the Reaganite political theology not only was plausible, it was almost necessary if Christians were going to participate in the system. But once that soil has been swept away by winds and erosion, there is nothing left to sustain that project. And so here we are today. Many of the critiques these men make of the current offers before us are not wrong—Mattson’s critiques usually being the sharpest and most helpful to me, at least.

But what I have yet to see any of them propose is the very thing they have to solve if they want their vision to be taken seriously. They need to establish one of two things for their theory to be viable: Either a) they must explain how their theory can survive when the moral consensus it was built on has collapsed, or b) they must explain how we can reestablish that moral consensus and, given its rather sharp departure from historic Christian political thought, why we should want to reestablish that consensus. So far I have yet to see anyone do this in a satisfactory way.

In contrast to this project, we might consider a forgotten but perhaps still relevant example of a kind of positively defined national project, something that can be pursued together by a pluralistic America, contra the increasingly explicit ethno-centrism of the right as well as the arch individualism of the left. In particular, I am thinking of the approach taken by John Quincy Adams, our nation’s sixth president and son of our nation’s second president and co-writer of the Declaration of Independence.

Quincy Adams is a fascinating figure in American politics: He was a robust abolitionist, arguing against slavery before the Supreme Court. Quincy Adams said plainly that the text of that Declaration destroyed any possibility of slavery as a legitimate legal institution. He will be no friend to those seeking to revive “Christian” America by reviving racist conceptions of what our nation is.

Further, Adams was an unapologetic champion of the American project as he understood it, which meant neither a naked public square nor a sectarian church-dominated regime. For example, he wrote vociferously against the anti-democratic writings of Fisher Ames, an early American politician from Massachusetts who took a strongly-anti democratic turn in response to Jeffersonianism and the French Revolution.

Adams sought to model an approach to common life that was neither French populism, if you can call it that, or British elitism, but something different and distinctly American. Thus he affirmed both the capacity of the American people for virtuous self-government and the necessity of a shared national project to unify and aim us as a people toward some shared common ends. What you might end up with, at the end of this synthesis, is a kind of historical precedent for Augustinian liberalism: a Christian commonwealth grounded in positively stated ideas about the good life but also defined by a modest, restrained understanding of the role of government in enacting that life. Adams did not seek a national church or any sort of sectarian Christian supremacy. But he did propose a series of national projects meant to elevate and unite America’s people. In his first speech to congress he called for the creation of a national system built around roads, canals, a national university, and even a national astronomical observatory (with full-time staff that published regularly on their findings, for the education and benefit of the American people).

The need in our politics, it seems to me, is something that can be positively stated, such that the American people really are pursuing certain goods together (rather than pursuing purely private goods mediated to us by predatory capitalist firms) but also a positive vision that is limited enough so that it can appeal to a wide range of people and so that it will not cross over into one species of totalitarianism or another. I think such a thing is possible because for much of our nation’s history it was not uncommon to speak of our nation having such a project. Indeed, the last such project happened with the lifetime of many Americans still alive today: the 1960s space race.

It’s possible, of course, that such a project is impossible today. Perhaps we are divided, too enslaved to our devices, and too locked into industrial rather than convivial habits of thought. Be that as it may, if we should reject the new right, the successor ideology, and the Reaganite recovery, then it seems to me the best thing to do is to attempt something like a renewal of the Adamsian project, recovering a kind of Christian commonwealth, knowing that it is better to fail in the pursuit of something good than to join our labor to the cultivation of something wicked.


This is, admittedly, an ambitious and more than a little unwieldy as an essay, even perhaps by the odd standards we have at Mere O. But it is an initial foray, an attempt to begin thinking aloud about a problem pressing in on all of us. If social life is in decline in our country, if our churches are emptying out, and our beds are barren, then some new fresh word must come or there will be no future for us.

The two dominant answers on offer to this question right now, Christoamericanism and technocratic progressivism, are both deeply at odds with Christian faith and must be rejected. And so it falls to us to try and articulate something that is both actually responsive to the realities confronting us today and clearly opposed to the principalities and powers that would sweep our nation away if given the chance to do so. Thus this is meant as an attempt to begin a conversation, not to end it.

We need mature, healthy families. We need churches in which people actually are apprenticed to Jesus and learn to take up his yoke. We need a politics capable of aiming in a limited way our shared capacities and desires as a nation so that we can pursue the good together, rather than merely accumulate private goods separately. And so we need a pervasively Christian account of common life.

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Posted by Jake Meador

Jake Meador is the editor-in-chief of Mere Orthodoxy. He is a 2010 graduate of the University of Nebraska-Lincoln where he studied English and History. He lives in Lincoln, NE with his wife Joie, their daughter Davy Joy, and sons Wendell, Austin, and Ambrose. Jake's writing has appeared in Commonweal, Christianity Today, Fare Forward, the University Bookman, Books & Culture, First Things, National Review, Front Porch Republic, and The Run of Play and he has written or contributed to several books, including "In Search of the Common Good," "What Are Christians For?" (both with InterVarsity Press), "A Protestant Christendom?" (with Davenant Press), and "Telling the Stories Right" (with the Front Porch Republic Press).


  1. There are positions taken in the above article which are to be commended and other positions that should challenged which are outside the concerns of this comment. What I wish to focus on is civil society. Civil society can include government but cannot be reduced to government.

    What is often missed by Christian leaders and writers regarding what we should promote in societies is the concept of democracy. The reason for democracy has been overlooked is that we often reduce democracy to majority rule. And so we employ what we have learned from the Free Market to democracy in that we are looking to compete in order to corner some significant level of control over society including the government. Thus, we portray civil society as needing to unite and revolve around a subset of Christian values, especially those regarding sex, that act as lines we have drawn in the sand and warned all others not to cross.

    We have sought to unite civil society around those values from the beginning of this nation. And some of those values are downright anti-Christian whereas others violate other values that we need to pay attention to because we share society with unbelievers. And some of those latter values come from democracy.

    But what is democracy? I will provide 2 quotes that paint a picture of what democracy is and what it isn’t. First, Thomas Jefferson said the following from his 1801 Inaugural Address:

    All, too, will bear in mind this sacred principle, that though the will of the majority is in all cases to prevail, that will to be rightful must be reasonable; that the minority possess their equal rights, which equal law must protect, and to violate would be oppression.

    The second quote comes from Jeff Halper’s book An Israeli In Palestine: Resisting Dispossession, Redeeming Israel:

    An ethnocracy is the opposite of a democracy, although it might incorporate some elements of democracy such as universal citizenship and elections. It arises when one particular group—the Jews in Israel, the Russians in Russia, the Protestants in pre-1972 Northern Ireland, the whites in apartheid South Africa, the Shi’ite Muslims of Iran, the Malay of Malaysia and, if they had their way, the white Christian fundamentalist in the US—seizes control of the government and the armed forces in order to enforce a regime of exclusive privilege over other groups in what is in fact a multi-ethic or multi-religious society. Ethnocracy, or ethno-nationalism, privileges ethnos over demos. whereby one’s ethnic affiliation, be it defined by race, descent, religion, language or national origin, takes precedence over citizenship in determining to whom a country actually “belongs.” Israel is referred to explicitly by its political leaders as a “Jewish Democracy.”

    What the former quote associates with democracy is equality, which includes avoiding depriving some minority group their equal rights. And while religiously conservative Christians in the past have so deprived certain groups of people based on their economic class, their biological sex, religion, or race, what we Christians have been struggling to come to terms with today is how we seek to deprive groups their equality in society based on sexual orientation and/or gender identity.

    The latter quote warns ethnic groups, like us religiously conservative Christians, not to seek some significant degree of privilege and supremacy over ethnic groups in society if we still wish to call ourselves a democracy. And, btw, religion qualifies as an ethnic category. Once we successfully seek a privileged place in society we become an ethnocracy rather than a democracy. And that means that we have told unbelievers that Christianity opposes democracy in favor of its control over society.

    In the end, the message we miss from democracy is one of needing to collaborate with unbelievers in order to protect the equal rights of the other groups in society just as we would demand that they protect our equal rights. And the funny thing about such a collaboration is that it promotes a virtuous society where people look to defend the full equality of those outside of their own groups even when one disagrees with those groups.


    1. 1. I’m not sure why you take Halper as the authority on the subject of “ethno-nationalism.” And it’s silly to group in religion with “race, descent, language, or national origin”, given that those are inherited (with the partial exception of language), and religion is something you can freely change.

      2. There’s a difference between religious conceptions informing the law and religious groups demanding supremacy over others. Every legal system will have underlying religious or philosophical premises; that does not entail that on a day-to-day basis, people who don’t share said premises are having their rights denied. By way of example: if an Islamic society bans usury in banking, an Islamic religious concept is informing the law, but no one religious group is getting better treatment in said regard.

      3. I don’t know what you mean by your accusations that Christians “seek to deprive groups their equality in society based on sexual orientation and/or gender identity” unless you are simply adopting post-Christian gender revolution notions. You are welcome to explain.


      1. CPT,
        I take Halper as an authority regarding ethnicities because he is a trained archeologist and is saying what other archeologists say about ethnicities.

        I take Halper as an authority regarding democracy because he is basing a significant part of his view of Democracy on what Thomas Jefferson said.

        And if you read about ethnocracies including religious ethnocracies, you’ll find others saying basically what Halper is saying.

        And no, not every legal system has a religious premise. And legal systems that have religious premises can be quite different.

        And I agree that there is a difference between religious conceptions informing law and a religion seeking some significant degree of superiority over society with the laws they propose. For example, Martin Luther King Jr. and the SCLC promoted equality for not just themselves but for other groups because of their religion while Christian defenders of Jim Crow used their religion to defend the then status quo.

        King’s example cannot be a comparable object for those Christians seeking to reestablish some degree of marginalization for the LGBTQ community through laws that deny their full equality. For while the former sought freedoms for others rather than their own privilege, the latter seeks to impose their religious view on others so that those others, including those who follow liberal theology and have different religious views regarding sexual orientation and gender identity, are denied some degree of equality. As for your example, remember that you are drawing it from religious ethnocracies at best. In addition, how do restrictions that some Christians want to put on the LGBTQ community better their lives? I’m sure you could answer that question from a Christian paternalistic viewpoint. But using such a viewpoint and the problems that come with it in a democracy is my point.

        Finally, suppose our nation’s legal system is based on a religious premise with Christianity being the primary religious influence, since when have we had full equality for any group outside of the LGBTQ? Even today, we continue to have systemic racism. And that systemic racism has, at many times in our nation’s history, been defended by the religious beliefs of some Christians. We should also note how many times in European history have we seen the predominant branch of the Church of a given nation side with wealth and power. In fact, we see a similar trend with most of the evangelical community voting for the Republican Party–not that the Democratic Party is a champion of the dispossessed.


        1. Whether or not “ethnicity” may include “religion” in Israeli definitions of the term, it certainly does not in American law. Here we have a clear distinctions in law between religion, on the one hand, and ethnicity/race/nationality, on the other. And I’d submit that it quite well, and is more consistent with recognizing the idea that religion comes from the heart, not the blood.

          “As for your example, remember that you are drawing it from religious ethnocracies at best.” I would agree that in 2022, most (I am not confident that I’d say “all”, though) Islamic societies privilege Muslims over non-Muslims, but I see no reason why an Islamic country could not keep a ban on usury that applied to all people while also having equal religious freedom for non-Islamic religions.

          “In addition, how do restrictions that some Christians want to put on the LGBTQ community better their lives?” I’m not sure what you have in mind, but homosexuality and transgenderism are both physically and spiritually harmful. So incentivizing and promoting them, as things like Pride Month, “gay marriage” recognition, and gender identity laws are harmful most of all to the “LGBTQ community”. I don’t favor totalitarian methods (punishing people for engaging in those behaviors with the criminal system), but the law should tolerate (i.e. regard them as wrong and mistaken, while refraining from interference) and not encourage them. Roll the clock back to the 1980s, not the 1380s, to put it in short.

          And you’ll notice I avoid totalizing this discussion under the concept of “equality” because there are more relevant political concepts out there than just equality.


          1. CPT,
            And how would the restrictions that some atheists would want to put on us to better our lives feel to you?

            Your question assumes supremacy and, at the very minimum, a paternalistic relation between Christians and the LGBT community with Christians having a place of supremacy. We could claim that we are putting in those restrictions for their own good. Then again, in a post Christian world, atheists could eventually take the same position in relating to us in the same way and giving the same justification. At this point, you are missing what democracy is about as well as missing out on what Paul and James wrote about judging others (see Romans 2; 3:9 and James 2).

            Also during the 1980s, those in the LGBT community were not protected by law from harassment and job termination in over half of the states. So what is it that you want associated with the Gospel?

            The NT is quite clear, we Christians are here as servants to carry out the Great Commission. When people don’t want to listen, we are to move on. We are not to lord it over others. And Paul’s concern was for the sexual purity of the Church, not society (see I Cor 5).

            Are we putting restrictions on the LGBT community for their good or for our comfort? The evidence would suggest the latter. At this point we need to remember what Peter said about the Church being in exile and how in Hebrews it says that we have no home on earth. It is not for us to create a Christian home on earth especially when doing so harms the reputation of the Gospel.

            And parading as a democracy when one is really an ethnocracy regardless of the kind of ethnocracy one is involved in involves both oppressing others because they are different and lying to oneself.

      2. CPT,
        There is one mistake in my response to you. Harper is a trained anthropologist, not an archeologist.


  2. Christopher Babcock December 13, 2022 at 9:00 pm

    I greatly appreciate this article. I want to ask, though, about some of the assumptions in the Article – in particular, the existence of nations and political participation in their life.

    When I think about the Christian role in political life, I really do wonder if we have a role in the post-revolutionary (Glorious, American, French and Russian) political world. Now, I’ll lay my biases on the table: I’m the sort of Anglo-Catholic who thinks that the Church of England exists as a tragedy spurred on by the Pope’s sinful giving in to political affairs by allowing King Henry VIII to marry his brother’s wife. I admit my eccentricity to ask that you indulge me in a bit of a question as to the modern world and how well we should fit into it. As a bit of a spoiler, my ultimate view is that a Christian commonwealth is not sustainable, but our goal should be to restore a view of Christendom rightly understood.

    If you’re still reading, I’d say the following: we should reflect that the Creed outlines God not as Creator of the physical and the spiritual, but of the visible and the invisible. The invisible world is not some “supernatural” realm outside of our day-to-day life, but is an integral part of it. One way this invisible world manifests is through common narratives of definition which we are familiar with: nationality, ethnicity, culture. The revolutions referred to above lead into an age of so-called science which sought, in certain of its darker moments such as the Progressive Era at the dawn of the 20th century, to prove a real and definitive construct of race and ethnicity. Race and ethnicity, however, are ideas more than reality – sure, there are overlapping genes and history, but individuals are sufficiently varied that these mean nothing except for the significance they are given.

    I would go so far as to call these things principalities. (In this, of course, I reference one of Dr. Meador’s great articles addressing why some objected to Aaron Renn’s diagnosis of a positive/neutral/negative world.) These principalities have been exasperated by the idea of a nation-state; that a certain people have an existence as a people and that their political organization is a form of identification, which also cements the idea of democratic government.

    Let me, alluding to the Psalms, parallel myself: A modern person may have several concepts of identity that bind that person to a community. Nationality, race, religion, class. Each of these is a cultural sign that distorts as much as it illuminates. (This to my mind, is the lesson of the parable of the good Samaritan, which should be seen as an answer to the question “who is my neighbor?”. The Neighbor was the one who ignored the national/ethnic/etc. components of identity to see only a person in need; the others avoided contact, not out of cruelty but lest such contact violate their religious duties to avoid contamination with unclean things like a presumably dead body.) Why should someone living on the border of two nations assume his identity is more closely tied to his fellow citizens two hundred miles distant and not the people two miles distant who have a different flag?

    All this is to say is that Christianity is a polis, but not a commonwealth. We are subjects of a Kingdom; our identity must be tied to that Kingdom first and foremost and we should question closely our allegiance to/identification with any other principality.

    Now, I’ve talked a lot about nations, but not states. That’s the fascinating thing about God’s Kingdom: it is the former, but not the latter. What is a state? Perhaps the best argument is that a state is the organization that credibly claims a monopoly on lawful violence in an area. The state (the organized violence) is not not the nation (the culture and other means of self-identification). What makes Christendom a better model than a Christian commonwealth is that it allows for this distinction. Christendom was a culture across the Catholic domains of western Eurasia; the state was held by various kingdoms. A king could claim the use of violence – and this state violence has a use, as we are told to pray for it even when controlled by a Nero – but the culture of a kingdom was subordinate to the culture of Christendom.

    The strong gods are coming back. To renounce them is not to participate in an American state or to shape an American state. It is to create communities that are simply Christian, as best we can, that then minister to those in bondage under the modern principalities. I like David French et al; I believe men like him have the right vision for America. I just think America is not our concern (except as for how this principality may affect the bearers of our God’s image who dwell in her or who are affected by her), but only Christ’s Kingdom.


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