Republocrat: Chapter 3 "Not-So-Fantastic Mr. Fox"

The scandal and turmoil engulfing Fox News Channel reminded me of this post from 2010. It was part of a series I did on a book by Carl Trueman called Republocrat: Confessions of a Liberal Conservative.



Shortly after moving here from England; Republocrat author Carl Trueman was told by a well-meaning Christian friend that he should watch Fox News because -- "that's the unbiased news channel." Upon investigation it turned out that FNC wasn't that historical rarity: a truly unbiased source of reportage, instead, it was a source of around-the-clock conservative commentary and spin. Lest you're thinking this assesment of Fox News is a case of British snobbery, the venerable BBC comes in for some harsh criticism too: "Visiting home recently, I was shocked to see that, in my nearly nine-year absence, the BBC seems to have been taken over by a bunch of New Labour groupies. . ." (p. 41)

The point is -- the BBC has a left of center bias, as do most of the mainstream media institutions in the United States (e.g. CNN, MSNBC, New York Times). It's fine and good that Fox News wants to provide an alternative viewpoint to the left-wing MSM, but don't say with a straight face that Fox is unbiased. As Trueman points out -- we all have our biases. In his history class he makes an important distinction between objectivity and neutrality.

I like to argue in class that in the writing of history, no one can be neutral, but historians can be objective. (p. 42)

Some historians are more objective than others, and so are some news channels. On the rare occasions when I watch cable news I usually turn to CNN because (in my opinion) they do a better job of giving a full picture and more objective viewpoint than the outliers on the right and left (see, I have a centrist bias). The fact, though, that CNN's ratings have been in decline relative to their main competitors is an indication of what the public wants.

What the public increasingly wants, it seems, is news and commentary that confirms what they already believe -- and the more outrageous and shrill the better. Instead of exposing ourselves to a variety of voices we gravitate to those that validate our prejudices and stoke our fears. If you're a worried conservative who believes in your gut that they (liberals, Europeans, George Soros, etc.) are out to get us, then the fevered monologues and talking points of Beck and O'Reilly will strike a chord. This in itself isn't all that remarkable. What is remarkable are the legions of conservative Christians who've reacted to the bias of the "liberal media" by annointing Rupert Murdoch's channel as defender of traditional values and purveyor of all that's true, right and good.

How well does this reputation stack up with reality? After a devastatingly funny deconstruction of a couple of representative quotes from the aforementioned stars of the Fox firmament (see pp. 44-49) the author turns to Murdoch and his media empire. I have to say that Trueman really has it out for Mr. Murdoch. In fact he admits a Beckian conspiratorial bent in his fixation on the Aussie mogul.

To start with -- Murdoch personally is no paragon of family values. He's on his third marriage to the young vice president of one of his many media properties (Star TV) who he married mere days after his second divorce. That behavior in itself isn't necessarily a reason not to watch his channels or read his newspapers. I've written in this space about my admiration for the movies of Woody Allen -- this despite his tawdry personal life. However, while conservative Christians are quick to condemn the private peccadillos of a liberal like Woody Allen, "the Christian Right. . . is often very forgiving of the private failings of its heroes, as in the case of Rush Limbaugh with his various marriages and his well-publicized drug addiction." (pp. 51-2)

Beyond Murdoch's personal life there's his ownership of The Sun -- "a tabloid known for setting the bar as low as it gets when it comes to journalism" and it's "daily diet of beautiful, topless women. Indeed, prior to the advent of the World Wide Web, it is possible that Murdoch was responsible for putting more soft pornography into more houses than anybody else in history." (p. 52) Trueman wonders aloud how Christian fathers would feel if they opened up the newspaper and saw their daughter posing naked for the leering masses. Also, it's easy to forget the Fox part of Fox News -- that network whose stock-in-trade is raunchy sitcoms that mock the values cherished by conservative Christians and encourage us to laugh at family dysfunction.

The take-home message from this chapter is that Christians should be more "eclectic" in what they read, watch and listen to. Don't get all your news from the same source. Realize that all news channels have their biases. Be intentional in exposing yourself to voices that challenge your view of the world. If we take into account the wide-ranging impact of sin on people and institutions then we'll approach any media outlet with a degree of skepticism. Trueman encourages his readers to emulate the Greek apologists of the early church by taking seriously our responsibility to be the most thoughtful and informed citizens we can be, as opposed to those who traffic in "clichés, slander, and lunatic conspiracy theories." (p. 59)

In short, the primary aim of this chapter isn't to convince Christians that they shouldn't turn on Fox News. It's to convince them that they shouldn't turn on Fox News with their God-given critical faculties turned off.

Next: the uneasy marriage of Christianity and capitalism.


Quotes from Republocrat: Confessions of a Liberal Conservative (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2010)

Republocrat: Chapter 5 "Rulers of the Queen's Navee"

I grew so rich that I was sent
By a pocket borough into Parliament.
I always voted at my party's call,
And I never thought of thinking for myself at all.
I thought so little, they rewarded me
By making me the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!

- "Sir Joseph Porter's Song" from H.M.S. Pinafore

Carl Trueman's been known to quote Rush on occasion -- that's Rush the Canadian rock trio not the voice of the EIB network -- but in the final chapter of Republocrat he quotes Gilbert & Sullivan to illustrate an approach to politics that eschews thoughtful analysis in favor of sloganeering and reductionistic arguments. Politics, especially party politics in a representative democracy, is a messy business that more often than not involves the art of compromise. Most political issues resist easy analysis, and rare is the politician that consistently puts principle first.

In light of all this Christians should be wary of uncritically hitching their wagon to any political party or platform. Trueman isn't saying that believers should give up on politics out of cynicism or despair. Far from it. Christians, especially, should "set good examples of civic engagement", an important part of which is voting.

Indeed, I would suggest that all Christians should vote, as part of their civic duty, but they should also feel pain when they mark the relevant box, knowing the trade-offs they are having to make as they do so, and how their action belies the complexity of reality. (p. 83)

Thoughtful and realistic political engagement means being aware of several prominent cultural forces that shape contemporary Western politics. As described by Trueman they are (and here I'm quoting his section headings) 1. The rise of aesthetics and the decline of discourse 2. Never mind the argument, tell me a good story 3. It's not the economy, it's character and rhetoric, stupid!

I won't rehash his arguments -- since it's time to put this series of posts out if its misery! -- but suffice to say several figures beloved of conservatives and one or two beloved of liberals are cited in examples of how politics in the age of 30-second ads and sound bites has become something of a joke. There are plenty of laugh-out-loud lines in this chapter, including Trueman's description of Sarah Palin's embarrassing 2008 interview with Katie Couric as "the equivalent of being savaged to death on live television by a teddy bear." Apparently the author isn't a fan of Mama Grizzly.

This book deeply resonated with me, though if I'd read it ten years ago my reaction probably would have been much different. Over the years I've grown more politically moderate (maybe even liberal) at the same time I've grown more theologically conservative. One of the reasons Trueman decided to write Republocrat was to present an alternative to younger believers who risk being alienated from the church by the linkage of conservative party politics and evangelical Christianity. Trueman wants you to realize that abandoning the agenda of the GOP or Christian Coalition doesn't mean you have to abandon the faith once delivered. Plenty of saints throughout history have remained in the orthodox faith while holding wildly divergent political views. Indeed, the very categories we use to describe our political beliefs are products of our own narrow historical context.

I'll end with the quote from Vaclav Havel that Trueman ends the book with. These inspiring lines are a reminder that politics, messy though it may be, is a noble calling. Whether you call yourself a conservative or liberal, Republican or Democrat -- or none of the above -- I hope you agree.

Genuine politics—even politics worthy of the name—the only politics I am willing to devote myself to—is simply a matter of serving those around us: serving the community and serving those who will come after us. Its deepest roots are moral because it is a responsibility expressed through action, to and for the whole. (p. 110)

Quotes from Republocrat: Confessions of a Liberal Conservative (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2010)

Republocrat: Chapter 4 "Living Life to the Max"

And so the Republocrat series grinds on. Hopefully my dwindling band of readers will indulge me a while longer. Only two chapters to go!

If Marx's Das Kapital was an attempt to explain the rise of European capitalism by materialist causes, then Max Weber's The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, published in 1905, was an attempt to explain it by taking into account the spiritual dimension. In this seminal work the dour German sociologist posited a corresponding connection between the values of Genevan Calvinism and the values and ways of doing things that birthed modern free market capitalism.

I think there's some truth to Weber's groundbreaking thesis, but Carl Trueman wants to demonstrate that Weber's conclusions were faulty and in some ways have been overtaken by events. To recapitulate just one of Trueman's problems with Max: his "Protestant ethic" can't account for the economic rise of the Asian tigers (Japan, Korea and China). Yes, it's true that Calvinism seems to be on the rise in China (see here) and the second-largest Presbyterian Church in the world is in South Korea, but at most this is merely an incidental connection and not the necessary connection that Weber's disciples would want to prove. Trueman has much more to say on Herr Weber. But why is this even important to a discussion of conservative Christianity and capitalism?

Despite the problems with Weber's thesis, it has proved somewhat attractive to American Christians keen to see a close relationship between their theology and a central tenet of the American way—the capitalist free market. The connection is useful: if there is a link between Christian truth and capitalist prosperity, then capitalism itself becomes the God-given way in which society should be organized; and it presumably accounts for the fact that, in the USA, a term such as socialism is so often seen as antithetical to Christianity, in a way that would have been historically unthinkable in a place such as Great Britain, where Christians played a key role in the early history of both the Labour Party and the trade-union movement. Indeed, while writing this book I had the privilege of spending a day addressing evangelical pastors in Wales, men who labor in poor, former mining areas. They were incredulous that any evangelical Christian would ever vote for a right-of-center capitalist party; such is the contextual nature of the relationship of theology and politics. (p. 65)

If Weber's hugely influential thesis has holes then it becomes harder to view free market capitalism as an absolute good -- the be all and end all of civilization. Perhaps "Christian socialism" is no more an oxymoron than "Christian capitalism"? History is replete with examples of the folly of annointing any ideological system as the end-point of historical development. Trueman cites Medieval feudalism as one prominent example that now sits beneath the dustbin of history. Capitalism is indeed the best system of economic organization we have right now -- a point the book makes more than once -- but that doesn't mean its future hegemony is inevitable, or even desirable.

But why isn't that outcome desirable? Doesn't economic freedom translate into other freedoms, such as religous freedom? Not exactly. That case too becomes harder to make in light of recent history. The author points to the example of China where capitalism is coexisting quite comfortably with a totalitarian political system in which religious freedom is still in short supply. Closer to home we often hear free marketeers extolling the "morality of the market" as if leaving things in the hands of private actors out to make a profit is always a positive virtue. We heard this a lot in the recent debates over healthcare. Since this is a hobbyhorse I love to ride I'll throw this out there.

To listen to some Christians talk, one would think that evil is essentially the preserve of Washington, and that CEOs of private companies have nothing but our interests at heart; or, at least, are forced into dealing fairly with us because they cannot buck the forces of the market. Thus government health care is bad because it will be rationed by bureaucrats; private health care is good because rationing does not exist. Of course, this argument assumes that all insurance companies have unlimited capital at their disposal and employees who would never, ever deny a claim for vital treatment. (p. 68)

In the final pages of chapter 4; believers who unconsciously assume Christianity and capitalism go together like apple pie and ice cream are encouraged to examine the kind of "behavior, outlook, and ethics" that market capitalism fosters. If they do, they may find attitudes that are at home in the capitalistic kingdom of man, but have no place in the kingdom of God. One such is disatisfaction. Contentment is a cardinal Christian virtue, but here it's opposite is one of the fuels that drive the engine of consumerism. I like buying new things. I bet you like buying new things. There's nothing wrong with buying new things, but let's be self-aware enough to realize when our baser impulses are being pandered to. Trueman offers other such examples of ways contemporary capitalism actually undermines traditional, Christian values. In short -- not everything about capitalism is consistent with a Christian worldview, or even with conservatism as traditionally understood.

He goes on to argue that economic libertarianism "inexorably" leads to moral libertarianism -- where "free-market logic" is applied to moral issues. Here he could be accused of indulging in a bit of historical determinism of his own. Nevertheless his larger point is spot on: without a moral underpinning capitalism is just as dangerous to human flourishing as socialism. The "morality of the market" isn't moral and surrendering economic life to the whim of Adam Smith's "invisible hand" is a fatalistic cop-out. There are times when creating a more just society means challenging laissez-faire economic assumptions.

Finally, in reflecting on this subject I thought of the many parables that describe the kingdom of heaven. You know -- the ones that begin, "the kingdom of heaven is like. . ." It's surprising how many of them involve money. They teach us that disciples of Jesus are subjects of a kingdom in which the world's values are turned upside down. An economic system based on individual rights, competition and the profit motive may be the best way to create the highest standard of living for the most people, but those values are at odds with the values of the kingdom -- where the last will be first, and the worker who toiled one hour is paid the same as the worker who toiled all day.

Coming next: fuzzy logic and the power of stories.


Quotes from Republocrat: Confessions of a Liberal Conservative (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2010)

Republocrat: Chapter 2 "The Slipperiness of Secularization"

Carl Trueman begins chapter two of Republocrat by noting the differing way religion and politics mix in his native UK and his adopted home. The kind of religious language routinely used in American political campaigns is unheard of in British politics. On the face of it this is odd since America has no state church and England does. Of course, church attendance is much higher here than it is in Western Europe, so this no doubt contributes to the explicitly religious nature of American politics.

It would seem that the U.S. is an exception to the secularizing trend that's seen British churches turned into nightclubs and Christianity pushed to the margins of the public square. It might seem so, but Trueman argues that it's not that simple. Earlier in the book he's noted that the task of the historian is to complicate things, and this he sets out to do by asking some questions that challenge American exceptionalism regarding secularization.

Could it be that both Britain and America are both fairly secular, but that America expresses her secularity using religious idioms, while Britain expresses hers through the abandonment of such language? (p. 23)

Is it actually the case that the American church has maintained the loyalty of large sections of the population by essentially becoming a secular institution? Could it be that secularization might merely have taken a different form in America from that which we find in Europe? (pp. 26-7)

Answering yes to each question Trueman begins with a "soft target" -- the prosperity gospel taught by such as Joel Osteen and Benny Hinn. The message preached by the prosperity preachers bears no resemblance to that found in the New Testament. It's fundamentally the same message preached by the "psychobabble self-help gurus" popular in the UK. Their message "is obviously secular, the American version has a veneer of orthodox religiosity." (p. 27)

Trueman moves on from those soft targets to ones closer to home in the conservative evangelical circles from which he comes, and to which this book is primarily written. Indeed he intends to demonstrate that the secular gospel of personal fulfillment is subtly present even in confessionally orthodox American churches. Borrowing from the work of David Wells he contends that secular values, ambitions and methods pervade doctrinally conservative megachurches and doctrinally liberal emergent churches. The former is an accommodation to market-driven consumerism ("the church's equivalent of the big-box store"), the latter to the "eclecticism of postmodernism." (pp. 28-9)

The remainder of the chapter is taken up with three characteristics of conservative Christianity in America that are examples of the subtle secularization thesis. I'll briefly summarize each.

Cavalier view of church membership vows

Americans rightly celebrate our heritage of the frontier. Rugged individualism and a healthy mistrust of authority are built into our national DNA. Our origin is one of rebellion against a monarch. However, those individualistic values create problems when taken with us into the church of Jesus Christ. The author sees the casual disregard of church membership vows as a prime example of secular values influencing the way we think about church. Church is seen as "another aspect of the consumer culture mentality whereby, as soon as my itch isn't scratched" I'm off to the next church. (p. 32)

You would think this wouldn't be a problem in Reformed and Presbyterian churches; since these traditions have historically taken church discipline and vows seriously. Sadly that's not the case. I serve as an elder at a theologically conservative Presbyterian church. One of the biggest surprises to me has been how quick upstanding Presbyterians will be to check out as soon as something happens they don't like. Gentle reminders that membership has responsibilities as well as privileges -- which at least means regular attendance in Sunday worship -- is met with incomprehension.

It's inconsistent for conservative Christians to criticize liberals for preaching a secular gospel when they treat membership vows as no more binding than one's cell phone plan. In fact, less binding, since walking away from your cell phone plan usually has a penalty attached.

The identification of America with God's special people

Trueman isn't concerned here with Christians who are strongly patriotic, or who defend the right of Christians to have a voice in the public square, or whose politics are shaped by their faith. What he's after is a "Christian America" mentality that often morphs into "uncritical nationalism" and where "the boundary between church and state, and sometimes even biblical history, becomes rather dangerously blurred." (pp. 32-3) Two examples of this cited are The Patriot's Bible and the painting One Nation Under God. I suspect he's mostly preaching to the choir here so I won't recapitulate his indictment of these admittedly extreme cases.

What's perhaps more troubling is the jingoistic, uncritical support given to the second Iraq War in which the "notion of America as the nation of God" played a prominent part. He recounts being in a Bible study where someone remarked how great it was that "God had raised up George W. Bush for such a time as this. . . . in response, I asked who had raised up Saddam Hussein. By the expressions on the faces of the people around the table, it was clear that the penny was starting to drop. World leaders, good and bad, are all raised up by God, just as they are toppled by him as well." (pp. 34-5)

The temptation to conflate the destiny of a nation with the destiny of the church is strongest when a nation is at the height of its power, as Britain was in the 19th century and America has been in the 20th and 21st centuries. For the integrity of the church and the sake of the gospel this temptation must be resisted.

If I have to sign up to believe in the manifest destiny of the English-speaking people, or of a particular political project, in order to be a member of Christ's church, or even simply to feel that I belong, then it is arguable that, whoever's church it is, it is no longer the property of Christ but of some more earthly power. (p. 36)

The Christian preoccupation with superstars

Here the book makes an especially profound point: a secular mind-set is as much about form as it is about content. One hears here an echo of McLuhan's central insight that the medium is the message. When we judge church leaders by the standards of the celebrity-obsessed society around us we betray a "creeping secularism." (p. 37)

This was one of the problems Paul was addressing in 1 Corinthians. The believers in Corinth were comparing Paul to the flashy orators of the day and finding him lacking in star power. They wanted a cult of personality instead of an apostle who preached nothing but Christ crucified. Trueman suggests that the "celebrity syndrome" is alive and well in conservative Christianity, particularly the Reformed/Calvinistic corner. We shouldn't judge the success of the many faithful "ordinary" pastors out there by measuring them against the unique gifts and context of men like John Piper, Tim Keller and Mark Driscoll.

This chapter challenged me to look for ways secular thought-patterns creep into my own life. Labelling something as "secular" doesn't make it necessarily bad. One of the strengths of the Reformed stream of Christianity is that it recognizes a place for a secular sphere. But if we think of secular values as the values of the world opposed to God's values, then it makes sense that secular (or worldly) values are always vying for our allegiance. The best defense is a mind being renewed by God's word. Trueman is right to warn us that secularization is more slippery than we imagine.

Up next: a look at that fair and balanced news channel.


Quotes from Republocrat: Confessions of a Liberal Conservative (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2010)

Republocrat: Chapter 1 "Left Behind"

Carl Trueman begins the book by briefly sketching his own political journey. Born of working class parents (and grandparents) it was natural that he would gravitate toward the liberal side of British politics. However by the 1980s the Labour Party was hopelessly compromised by radical elements, and so Trueman joined the Tories and supported Margaret Thatcher's fusion of traditional working class values and free-market economic reforms. As is often the case though 18 years of Conservative rule ended in corruption and impotence (i.e., the John Major government). At that point the author switched allegiance to the Liberal Democrats, the British party of the center-left that occupies an idealogical niche somewhere between the Conservatives and Labour, and that's where he's remained.

Though Trueman still identifies with the Left, in a sense, he's a man without a country, since the "Old Left" issues he cares about have been eclipsed by the preoccupations of the "New Left." He's been, well, left behind. Let me explain.

But first a little history. The left/right divide in Western politics we recognize today had its origins in the Industrial Revolution. The great progressive reforms of the 19th century were largely in response to the massive shifts of population and wealth to the cities. Reforms such as the right to organize unions, child-labor laws, and the broadening of the franchise were all efforts to humanely respond within a democratic framework to the dramatic changes taking place in society. In these movements one can see the origins of the great Western European and American political parties of the left.

There were more radical responses to the problems of industrialization though, in particular those of Karl Marx. The problem Marx sought to address was the same problem the Old Left sought to address -- the problem of economic oppression. History would go on to utterly discredit the Marxist solution. In practice it turned out to be a bloody failure, but at least Marx was tackling "oppression" as an economic issue -- something that can be measured.

Some people possessed more than others, and some did not enjoy either the material goods or the working conditions to allow them to live with any quality of life. This was the problem the various movements on the Left wished to address. The philosophies varied, but there was basic agreement on the problem: economic poverty. (p. 5)

Moving into the 20th century Trueman documents the "strange love affair" of Western elites with Marxism, even after the bloody butchery of Communist totalitarianism was apparent to all but the most willfully ignorant.

The gulags of Stalin's Soviet Union, the suppression of the Hungarian Revolution and the Prague Spring, the Cultural Revolution in China, the killing fields of Cambodia, to name but a few, showed how the quest for utopia so often ends in a blood-soaked nightmare, whose victims are the very poor and oppressed for whom the Left professes to be most concerned. (p. 7)

Yet there were still remnants of the old democratic Left that weren't compromised by flirtations with totalitarianism. Among its achievements in Great Britain was the National Health Service founded in 1945 (and on this side of the pond FDR's New Deal which helped bring America out of the Great Depression). Trueman credits the NHS for his existence, since it provided his working poor grandparents free health care they wouldn't otherwise have been able to get. I can only wish for an American version of the NHS when I contemplate the thousands of dollars it cost my wife and I to have our son, and the thousands more it will cost to have baby #2. This on top of the hundreds of dollars we shell out each month to the insurance company.

By the 1960s whatever remained of the traditional left-wing concern with poverty and economic exploitation was further diluted by shifting the definition of oppression from the economic to the psychological realm. Trueman details this in a section called "Mr. Marx Meets Dr. Freud." He argues that this led to a host of pernicious effects, the most pernicious being the elevation of trendy middle-class issues like a woman's right to choose and gay marriage. In advocating these issues, "the Left frequently finds itself opposed to the values of the very people it was originally designed to help." (p. 12)

Trueman points out the stunning moral inconsistency of a movement that used to pride itself on giving voice to the voiceless refusing to defend unborn children. Add to that the ridiculous spectre of middle-class academics and rich celebrities scolding working-class folks because they don't support the right of Melissa Etheridge to marry her partner. An absurd case in point was the kerfuffle that broke out when President Obama invited Rick Warren to pray at his inauguration. Here's a man who's given millions of dollars to help the poor, but since he spoke out in favor of California's Proposition 8 he was branded as an intolerant bigot. For the New Left having the right position on same-sex marriage and abortion is more important than clean water, feeding the poor or providing basic health care.

Sadly the concern for trendiness and empty moral gestures among secular members of the New Left has bled over into evangelical Christianity. For example the evangelicals who loudly trumpeted the fact that they were voting for Obama in the last election -- as if to say "Aren't I naughty?" Trueman also cites the sanctimonious outrage among some over the appointment of Philip Ryken as President of Wheaton College because he was a theologically conservative white male. And a Calvinist to boot! The possibility that Ryken might have been the most qualified candidate for the job didn't seem to occur to his critics.

Far from standing as a testimony against the culture and for biblical categories of oppression and liberation, the trendy evangelical Left. . . clearly enjoys empty, conscience-salving gestures as much as the trendy political Left. (pp. 16-7)

In conclusion Trueman writes:

As the Left adopted such concerns as gay rights and abortion as touchstone issues, those of us with strong religious convictions on these matters found ourselves essentially alienated from the parties to which our allegiance would naturally be given. The parties of the Right, while representing to an extent, and at least on paper, positions on these matters with which we are comfortable, yet also represent policies in other areas where we find ourselves in fundamental disagreement. . . . Thus I find myself politically homeless, restless, and disenchanted, and I suspect I am not alone. (p. 18)

No he's not alone. For what it's worth, I find myself increasingly in the same position. By now you may be asking, "If the contemporary Left is as bad as Carl Trueman makes it out to be why doesn't he bite the bullet and join up with the contemporary Right?" In chapter 2 he begins to explain why not.

Quotes from Republocrat: Confessions of a Liberal Conservative (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2010)

Introducing Republocrat

Over the next couple of weeks I'm going to blog my way through the new book from Carl Trueman -- Republocrat: Confessions of a Liberal Conservative. I'll try to summarize each chapter's arguments and share some of the highlights, though choosing which highlights will be difficult. Trueman is a lively and enjoyable writer so I could choose just about any paragraph at random and not go wrong! The subtitle is a bit of a misnomer as Republocrat is less autobiography than it is a work of history and social criticism. Some readers may know that Dr. Trueman is an historian by trade (he teaches church history at Westminster Theological Seminary) and a minister in the OPC. Both of those callings are evident in this book. Trueman is also a Brit, which gives him a Tocquevillian vantage point on American politics.

Republocrat is dedicated to Trueman's boss at WTS, Peter Lillback, with the inscription: "To Peter, living proof that friendship can extend across the political divide. With God, after all, everything is possible." Dr. Lillback contributes one of the best (and wittiest) forewards I've ever read in which he pleads guilty to being a "conservative's conservative" with serious political differences with his colleague down the hall. For what its worth Lillback recently burnished his conservative credentials by an appearance on Glenn Beck's show plugging his biography of George Washington. The mutual affection evident in the dedication and foreward sets the right tone for a book which has as one of its underlying assumptions that what unites believers in Christ is far more important than what happens in the voting booth.

However, if you believe that Obama is not just wrong he's evil, or conversely, that George W. Bush wasn't merely wrong he was evil, then it will be hard to extend charity to brothers and sisters who don't share your political convictions. As a personal aside, I'm glad the church where I'm a member includes a fair degree of political diversity. We have folks who've attended Tea Party rallies and folks who still have Obama bumper stickers on their automobile. Some might see that as a weakness, but I see it as a strength. One of Trueman's primary aims in writing Republocrat was to challenge a prevailing view of politics as an epic struggle between good and evil. The author was introduced to this tendency while spending six months in the U.S. in 1996.

On one of my very first Sundays in the USA, I was engaged in a conversation with a friend over coffee after church, and mentioned in passing what great work I thought the Clintons had done in Ulster. I might as well have said that Jack the Ripper had really helped to make the streets of London safe for women and children. I was given the full forty-minute "truth about Billary" lecture, and left the building in no doubt that the Clintons were, after Hitler, Stalin, and Pol Pot, probably the most dangerous and wicked leaders in the history of world politics. I had just learned an important lesson: American politics is Manichaean, about an elemental struggle between good and evil where, as in those 1940s B-Westerns, the goodies are as obvious as the men in white hats, and the baddies stand out because of their invariable preference for black headgear. Good deeds done by the baddies in one area are simply clever ruses to hide the real agenda of wickedness being pursued in another, and stupid foreigners like me are simply not equipped to discern the depth of the conspiracy we are up against. (Introduction, pp. xxiv-xxv)

What makes Trueman's anecdote even more telling is that the Clinton's image has undergone something of a rehabilitation in the eyes of some conservatives. Yes, Bill & Hillary were liberals, but compared to the uber-liberals Barack & Michelle they weren't as bad as all that. The current villain is always the scariest when politics is a zero-sum game of good vs. evil.

Another primary aim of Republocrat, indeed the thesis of the book, is "that conservative Christianity does not require conservative politics or conservative cultural agendas." (p. xix) Also, "the gospel cannot and must not be identified with partisan political posturing." (p. xxv) It follows then that most of Trueman's fire will be directed at the right side of the political spectrum. But before taking on the Right he begins with a chapter skewering the contemporary Left.

To be continued. . .