Carl Trueman Reflects On American Politics

The last half of his column reads as follows:

Numerous thoughts come to mind at this point. First, the Obama rhetoric, like the `W' rhetoric before it, is quintessentially American. A nation built on the frontier, on wide open spaces, on the rugged individual forging ahead against the odds, is still apparently wedded to the `great man theory of history.' But history does not work like that. As any student who has managed to stay awake during any of my classes at Westminster would tell you: social and economic conditions apply. No man is great enough to single-handedly change the great social and economic forces that drive history along. It is simply absurd to think that an individual, be it George W. Bush or Barack Obama, can make that much difference. That is not how history works: to repeat, social and economic conditions still apply, even in a nation that believes all you need is the political equivalent of John Wayne or Clint Eastwood to run the problems - moral, economic, social - out of Dodge. Obama is doomed to fail on at least some of the things that are being expected from him because he stands under, not above, these macro-historical forces. This should be a sobering thought for his supporters and an encouraging thought for his detractors: the former should make their expectations of his positive contribution more realistic; the latter should not overestimate the damage he can do.

Second, this should make us sit up and think about the power of politics and particularly individual politicians. To invest so much in an individual betrays a profoundly Pelagian understanding of reality. As new Labour ultimately proved more corrupt (and arrived in Sleazeville more quickly) than the Thatcher-Major governments, so Obama is a fallen man, surrounded by fallen men and women. We should not expect too much from them: politics is messy and dirty at the best of times; the best we can hope for is that they might prove less messy and dirty than some of their predecessors.

Third, as well as being Pelagian, the rhetoric of American politics is too often Manichean: a battle between good and evil, with clear moral monopolies being attributed to different sides by their various supporters and detractors. Rush Limbaugh and Keith Olbermann are great examples of Manichean thinkers, albeit with very unmanichean senses of humour. Would that life were as simple as these men make it out to be, that political thinking and decision making was a `slam dunk' as Americans might say, or a simple `kick between the posts' to use a more British idiom; that political differences provided a simple way of reading moral differences, because the `goodies' all think one way and the `baddies' all think the other. But politics isn't simple: it's a dirty, pragmatic business that involves practical compromises left, right, and centre (if there is any centre remaining!). This is not to say that our laws and our policies and our platforms should not represent high aspirations; but it is to say that the reality is always somewhat more complex than ideal aspirations allow; and an acknowledgment of that fact is an important part of the political thinking and action itself.

Finally, we need to move beyond the messiah complex that is perhaps now part of the essence of the American presidential process, where so much significance is, at least at a popular cultural level, invested in one individual. Indeed, it is amazing that a country which is typically very suspicious of the government as a corporate institution is willing to put so much trust in a single person. In Britain, it is virtually the opposite: often a blind trust in institutions but a deep distrust of individual politicians.

When I listen to the hopes and aspirations of people relative to President Obama, my mind not only goes back to the '97 elections in Britain but also to The Who's great rock opera Tommy. Towards the end, in the song, `I'm Free,' Roger Daltrey sings `We've been here many times before, messiahs pointing to the door, but no-one had the guts to leave the temple.' Well, we have been here many times before. Many political messiahs have come and gone; and, as the great British Parliamentarian Enoch Powell once commented: all political careers end in failure. Perhaps not so much in America, where term limits means that a leader cannot do the heavyweight boxing champ thing and go on too long until he gets his one-way ticket to Palookaville; but even given this, the most successful American politician can only achieve a fraction of what they want and inevitably make compromises and dirty their hands along the way.

And, of course, as in politics, so in religion. The American political process, as I argued above, is simply the most dramatic example of the `great man theory of history' which pervades American society. I had often wondered why certain British figures - Jim Packer, N.T. Wright, Alister McGrath etc., were much bigger this side of the Atlantic than back home in their native country. Was it just the accent? Surely it couldn't be the dentistry.....? Maybe the dress sense? No. It is all to do with the way America is a personality/celebrity oriented culture in a way that Britain, while she may well be catching up, has historically not been. The American church reflects the culture: ministries built around individuals, around big shots, churches that focus on god-like guru figures, all of them pointing to one door. I have lost count of the conversations I have had with church people anxious to tell of who they heard at this conference, of which person they corresponded with, of how this opinion or that opinion would not sit well with this demi-god and is therefore of little value; and, of course, of how anyone who disagrees with, or criticizes, this chosen hero must, of necessity be morally depraved and wicked. People want the gods to do their thinking for them. All of the Pelagian, Manichean celebrity malarkey of the American political process is alive and well in the church as well. The question is: when it comes to churches and ministries built around messiahs who are supposed to point not to themselves but to the true door, who is going to have the guts to leave the temple?