Uneasy Citizenship
An Interview with Daniel Bennett on Faith and Politics
"If we are to truly hold our citizenship uneasily, both tightly and loosely in the service of the kingdom, we must account for the way in which our ideologies are shaping our political engagement."
(Daniel Bennett)
Q. Daniel, I really appreciate you taking time to answer a few questions about your new book entitled Uneasy Citizenship: Embhaing the Tension in Faith and Politics. I want to begin by asking you the motivation behind writing this book and what is this tension you note that makes our citizenship “uneasy”?
A. I like to say that my motivation to write this book comes from three different parts of who I am. First, I’m a political scientist who is drawn to questions about the ways in which polarization and partisanship are influencing our lives together, especially in faith communities. Second, I’m a college professor who is blessed to spend my time with young people discerning God’s call for their lives in a tumultuous and complex world. And third, I’m a Christian trying to live out the Great Commission and live faithfully in an increasingly secular—and, in some sense, post-Christian—age.
As the subtitle suggests, I believe there is a tension inherent in any Christian’s understanding of what it means to be in the world yet not of the world and living in both the now and the not yet. On the one hand, we ought to live confidently and hopefully in the victory of Jesus over sin and death, knowing that whatever this world brings, the Lord’s work of redemption carries on undeterred. There is a danger, though, in concluding that we therefore ought to reject engaging with the world around us because we know how the story ends—that we should, in effect, let the world burn around us while we focus on our eternal citizenship in heaven.
On the other hand, we might also understand our role as disciples as requiring us to be actively engaged in the political and cultural contests of our day for the sake of seeking justice and loving our neighbor. The more importance we place on these contests, though, the more likely it is that we could see political outcomes as equivalent to spiritual outcomes—that is, we could buy into the hype that a given election really is the most important event of our lives. And when we do this, we could easily end up setting aside parts of who we are in Christ to serve specific ends, especially when our supposed enemies are seen as grave threats not only to our system of government, but to Christianity itself.
This is the tension I’m describing in Uneasy Citizenship: living confidently in Christ in the temporal world and promoting the flourishing of our communities while keeping our eyes focused on the cross. This is a difficult path to tread and, if we’re doing it well, I do think it should make our citizenship on earth, at the very least, uneasy.
Q. Let me ask a follow up here, especially in light of your keen assessment of the conflation of spiritual and political outcomes. You note an interesting connection in Chapter Two between the failure to see your neighbor as made in the image of God and the rise of idolatry connected with an obsession with politics. Psalm 115:8 comes to mind here when it says “[t]hose who make [idols] become like them; so do all who trust in them.”
Can you elaborate on this connection between dignity and idolatry?
A. When we acknowledge the dignity of our neighbors—regardless of where they land on the broad spectrum of political affiliation and ideology—it becomes harder to make politics an idol that hijacks a Christ-centered engagement. Today’s political environment encourages demonizing people with whom we disagree, characterizing them as misguided at best and evil at worst. And certainly, there are some in our midst who should be resisted as promoting evil at the expense of good. But when everything becomes a battle of monumental proportions, it follows that anybody who comes down on the other side from us is an enemy that must be resisted and defeated at all costs. This elevates politics beyond its purpose of seeking the welfare and flourishing of our communities to an idol of prime importance.
Reminding ourselves of the dignity of all people as made in God’s image—including those with whom we have profound political disagreements—not only makes for a healthier public square, but also keeps us grounded as fallen people ourselves. If we remind ourselves that we are not perfect, that we may lack perspective or even might be mistaken about something in the political realm, then we are more likely to extend grace to others when we believe them to be in error. This doesn’t mean adopting a “live and let live” approach to important debates and questions, but it does mean being slow to anger, quick to listen, and grounding ourselves in the fruits of the spirit when we set out to do politics in a messy, fallen world.
Q. One of the things you note throughout is the importance of character in how you conduct yourself in public. You note this tension in your Introduction when you write about the “inherent complexity we face as citizens of two kingdoms.” One of the most challenging verses I find having spent a good deal of time on social media comes from Romans 12, where Paul, after outlining the posture of a Christian toward outsiders, notes: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”
Can you give us some advice as to how Christians can engage in the tensions of political discourse without becoming overcome by the animosity of others?
A. I’m convinced that a distinctly Christian politics should look different from what the world expects politics to be. That is, Christians entering the political world—and frankly, this is something we all do every single day simply by virtue of living in community with one another—ought to be markedly different from our non-Christian neighbors. Our call to be salt and light does not exclude the rough and tumble world of politics.
How might this look in practice? It could mean taking a different tack on social media when it comes to political disagreements and discourse, not seeking to “win” an argument with a family member or stranger, but rather seeking to learn what’s motivating their different point of view on a particular issue. Or it might mean refusing to use social media in these ways at all, trading a digital back-and-forth for an in-person conversation, with all the benefits of nuance and social cues.
There’s nothing inherently sinful or wrong about disagreements over politics becoming passionate or emotional. It’s unrealistic to expect emotions to be absent from these sorts of conversations, given the perceived stakes. But what are our motivations and purposes going in? Are they centered on defeating—or “owning”—our opponents? I’m confident that Christians should reject this and remember that, despite our disagreements on admittedly important issues, we are all made in the image of God while also being in a fallen state. This should prompt healthy doses of both compassion and humility when we have difficult political conversations.
Q. There was a great section in Lisa Feldman Barrett’s book How Emotions Are Made on the advantages of speaking another language for the emotional development of an individual given that they can express themselves with more depth and nuance. I found that to be true with your use of the German word: schadenfreude.
Can you talk to me about this term and how it helps you understand voting patterns?
A. Schadenfreude is a feeling of joy at the misfortune or suffering of others. If you’re a sports fan, you might take pleasure in your team’s biggest rival losing as much as (if not more so) than your team winning. This is the essence of schadenfreude. And while it’s a harmless phenomenon in some contexts, when applied to politics it can become deeply problematic. If we’re motivated not by wanting to see our communities flourish, but rather to see our enemies suffer, that can lead to some bad outcomes.
Consider a related concept in political science, known as “negative partisanship.” Partisanship refers to feelings of attachment with a political party. But negative partisanship refers to feelings of disdain or disgust toward a political party and its partisans. For example, you may identify as a Republican, but this could be motivated more by your desire to see Democrats lose than your attachment to the principles and values of the Republican Party. And if negative partisanship becomes entrenched enough, there’s little your favored party could do or not do to lose your support – what matters most, after all, is defeating the other side. Our political system emphasizes consent of the governed and accountable elected officials, but negative partisanship warps this relationship.
Negative partisanship is so attractive these days because it’s both simple and reactive—that is, it doesn’t require a whole lot of thought in forming opinions since all you’re doing is reacting to your opponents. But this leads to a simplistic and unproductive kind of politics. Christians called to love others and seek the welfare of our communities should aim to practice a fuller and more robust politics.
Q. You note the importance of supporting good institutions and universities that avoid rooting their identities in cultural warring. I work for a non-profit (Christian Legal Society) that seeks earnestly to remain non-partisan and constructive when it comes to developing the holistic integrity of legal professionals. But the culture war is good for business and, as one Quentin Tarantino character said, “Business is a-booming.”
What’s your advice on navigating this tension between financial development and spiritual identity?
A. Negativity and conflict sell better than positivity and compromise. This sort of thinking applies to how non-profits, interest groups, and other civic organizations characterize their work to potential donors and constituents. It’s difficult to fundraise on positive, conflict-free headlines; even when your side is winning, you have to raise the specter of defeat to keep your audience tuned in.
In the world of Christian higher education, there’s a reason places like Hillsdale and College of the Ozarks are taking the approach they are. Conflict sells, and it’s easier to raise money and appeal to prospective students and their families when you’re painting yourself as the lone bulwark against an increasingly hostile and antagonistic secular culture. And while this approach may not be entirely disingenuous, it is a mistake for onlookers to consider institutions of Christian higher education not doing this as either weak or even collaborators. These latter institutions play important roles in discipling and training future generations of men and women in the pews. We need to be better about supporting the kind of work that Carl Trueman describes as “routine” and “not very glamorous.”
It's going to take time and work for Christians to invest in and develop the sorts of institutions prioritizing spiritual development over reactive and reflexive culture warring; it won’t happen overnight, and the incentives aren’t as immediately clear. Frankly, it could be that there really isn’t a market for this sort of thing relative to those institutions promising to wage war against secularism. But as I write in my book, the challenges Christians face today provide new opportunities for evaluation and introspection about what living counterculturally really looks like.
Q. I got to visit you in Arkansas last year. If you recall, we grabbed a coffee at Pour Jon’s, where I noticed a fascinating phenomenon that reminded me of my friends with whom I used to party with in Poth, Texas, before I was saved. It’s hard to describe it, but it felt like this remarkable hipster community where students were engaging one another and seemingly embracing newcomers with incredible alacrity. Is there something John Brown University (JBU) does special to cultivate this sense of community and engagement?
A. Like a lot of Christian colleges, JBU leans heavily into the idea of community, especially for students. We want to cultivate an environment where people can form deep and lasting relationships through their time with us and beyond. The more cynical among us—and I’m including myself at times, if I’m being honest—look at this and kind of roll our eyes, but it’s hard not to see the results in the ways you describe.
I don’t know if JBU is doing anything particularly unique to promote this sense of community, but I think it helps to have institutional buy-in among administrators, faculty, and staff. Dorm life emphasizes close and relational living. Our spiritual formation efforts aim for a holistic and encompassing understanding of faith development, from chapel to evening gatherings to small groups. It helps when the university’s leadership sets the tone in authentic ways. And even though I can get jaded about JBU’s culture of “niceness,” it really is hard to deny that it’s real, largely meaningful, and contributes to the development of young people for which Christian institutions ought to be striving.
Q. I heard an interesting private discussion once with a prominent Christian attorney who told a group of students that he doesn’t pray for his enemies because he wants to win. Can you talk to me about the importance of prayer when it comes to dealing with our perceived enemies?
A. It’s easy to pray for the people we find easy to love; it’s hard to pray for the people we find hard to love. But that’s precisely why Jesus commands us to love our enemies and to pray for those who persecute us. I’m no theologian, but I imagine it’s as much about sanctifying us and encouraging our own spiritual development as it is for the benefit of our enemies.
I do think it’s important for Christians to pray for those with whom we disagree, including our elected officials and perceived political opponents. This doesn’t mean we have to pray for their success, but we should pray for them to seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly before God. We should pray for them as leaders of our community, state, and nation. And we should pray that their ways are in accordance with the ways of Jesus, just as we should be praying for ourselves. Not only is this doing what Jesus tell us to do, but it has the added benefit of making it harder to treat our opponents with the disdain and derision so common in today’s political environment.
Q. This brings up another piece of your book that I found particularly important as it relates to the general approach of Christians to public life. You quote Kevin DeYoung for the proposition that “Biblical instincts are better than nationalist ones, and the ethos of the Christian Nationalism project fails the biblical smell test.” We are heading for another lawsuit (see Stone v. Graham) involving the Ten Commandments being put in public schools, this time in Louisiana (read).
What do your Biblical instincts say on finding a proper balance between the separation of church and state, and how it might impact the optics of our Christian witness?
A. I would hope Christians would affirm the importance of the Ten Commandments in our lives, in that they illustrate timeless and essential truths about who God is and who we are, while also pointing to our need for Jesus. Still, I doubt merely having the Ten Commandments visible in classrooms amounts to an unconstitutional establishment of Christian religion, given the widespread influence of the Ten Commandments beyond Christianity. And the Supreme Court has already held that context in these cases matters a lot; time will tell whether Louisiana’s law is consistent with past precedent, or whether the Court wants to go in a different direction.
On the larger question, I think a lot has to do with how we talk about this balance. If Christians support posting the Ten Commandments primarily to “bring God back to our country,” I think that’s mistaken and, frankly a little silly, as if posters in classrooms will suddenly cure what ails our culture. Moreover, if a public display of the Ten Commandments is our only effort to “bring God back” to the public square while ignoring the ways in which we practice politics and treat one another, that strikes me as an incomplete and disingenuous approach. But if we consider these efforts alongside other, non-legislative efforts to reach our culture, that makes more sense to me. We can’t simply pass a law and call it a day.
Regarding Christian Nationalism, I think the discourse over this idea has become sloppy and imprecise. This phenomenon is real and, I believe, dangerous in its actual form, but not every instance of Christians seeking to influence public policy amounts to fascistic Christian Nationalism. I think people like Mark Hall and Andrew Walker have written helpfully about this. Christians can pray for our country, vote according to our consciences, and advocate for policies consistent with our values, all while refusing to endorse the sort of Christian Nationalism from people like Stephen Wolfe.
Q. A few years ago, my organization hosed Justin Giboney (AND Campaign) as a plenary speaker at our CLS National Conference. Justin is a black man and an outspoken supporter of Christians voting for Democrats (despite being pro-life). After his speech, we had a few complaints along that lines that “Christians can’t vote for Democrats.”
Can you offer some advice on this tension and how to meaningfully navigate these conversations?
A. I think there’s a difference between saying “I, a Christian, could never vote for this candidate or this political party” and “No Christian could ever vote for this candidate or this political party.” The two major American political parties each conceivably bring something to the table for Christians to consider as they vote. Republicans bring a commitment to protecting unborn life and generally defending what I consider to be biblical understandings of sexuality and gender, while Democrats bring a commitment to the social safety net and material support for the vulnerable in our midst. At the same time, neither party is above reproach in their policies.
While I personally would have a difficult time voting for Democratic candidates who embrace the party’s language on abortion, religious freedom, and sexuality, I’m also not comfortable characterizing the large numbers of my Black brothers and sisters in the church who regularly vote for Democrats as insufficiently Christian. This is also true for the Christians in my community who enthusiastically vote for Republican candidates echoing Donald Trump’s rhetoric and divisiveness; it isn’t appropriate for me to question their faith commitments based on how they vote in an election.
At the end of the day, voting is an imperfect process given to imperfect people. Just as Christians can disagree on matters of secondary importance, so too can we disagree on how we allocate our votes. But that doesn’t mean we ought to question the sincerity of one another’s faith because of how we vote in 2024. That can only bring disunion and disorder in the body of Christ. We can certainly question and engage in critical conversations, just as we do for other issues of importance. But a blanket statement of “Christians cannot vote for [X]” doesn’t help anybody.
Q. You write about the urgency of the moment that many feel every election cycle and how it will take a “different kind of strength entirely” to approach it with “the patience and faith that Jesus wants for us.” I love the story of Peter looking away from Christ and in that moment beginning to sink. We live in a world rampant with distraction and myopic vision.
How do we steady our eyes on the author and perfector of our faith (Hebrews 12:2)?
A. As with so much of what I write in Uneasy Citizenship, it comes back to how we order our priorities and how we evaluate the political conflicts of our day. I think it’s a mistake for Christians to take a laissez faire approach to politics, effectively citing the sovereignty of God as an excuse for ignoring the ways in which elections and political outcomes matter for our community. At the same time, it’s mistaken for Christians to become so preoccupied with political outcomes and day-to-day conflicts that we lose sight of how the story ultimately ends—with God on heaven’s throne and a fully redeemed and remade earth.
This is the challenge of today’s political engagement for Christians, but it’s also a tremendous gift we’ve been given. We can approach politics with a sense of urgency for the vulnerable in our midst and acknowledge that elections do have consequences. But we can also be hopeful that no matter who wins the presidency or occupies the Supreme Court or what bill passes Congress—let alone what happens in our state or city—temporal wins and losses do nothing to alter God’s sovereignty over the affairs of men. Our uneasy citizenship should give us confidence and pause when doing politics, making sure we’re doing so for better reasons than the world typically expects.
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Purchase the book here!
Daniel Bennett is associate professor of political science at John Brown University. He serves as assistant director of the Center for Faith and Flourishing, and has served in leadership with Christians in Political Science. He is an expert on the intersection of politics, law, and religion in the United States. Alongside Uneasy Citizenship: Embracing the Tension in Faith and Politics, Daniel has also authored Defending Faith: The Politics of the Christian Conservative Legal Movement. Check out his faculty profile here.
EPILOGUE: I want to encourage you all this summer as we head into another bumpy election season with the words of Paul in Philippians 1:9-11 and a song:
“And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God.”