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It’s Hard to Be a Political Animal

October 9, 2024

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“Man,” writes Aristotle in the Politics, “is by nature a political animal.” He is writing here about the innate human need to form communities, societies, and systems of government. “Man” in this case can be taken to include both men and women. But in the midst of a bitter election year, I sometimes think it would be nicer not to be included. I’m a little tired of being a political animal.

This isn’t a gendered phenomenon. I cannot recall another election in my lifetime when so many people (of both sexes!) have told me that they probably will not vote. In general, I disapprove. I think responsible citizens ought to vote. But I understand completely why many would rather not, and indeed, I too am finding it almost impossible to take an interest in the back-and-forth of electoral squabbling. I sit down at my computer each day and find myself looking at book releases, my fantasy football team, pictures of the adorable newborn tiger cubs at the local zoo. Who wants to immerse themselves in the sludge of our current “political discourse”? It’s like showering in sewage. 

We’re living through a demoralizing political moment, in which faithful Catholics are understandably struggling to get perspective. It’s hard to identify worthwhile goals for which we can still work. At times like this, I sometimes find it comforting to pull back a bit, reminding myself that Christians have always struggled to discern the appropriate relationship between the kingdoms of God and men. 

God’s law obviously matters more. At the same time, we must have some form of governance in this fallen world, and the reality is that all political arrangements have some serious shortcomings. I sometimes reflect that the worst thing about democracy may be its power to drag everyone into the compromising, corrupting maw of politics. Feudal peasants had a very limited range of opportunities, but they probably didn’t worry much about the tawdry political maneuvering of the aristocratic classes. Today, we can all participate in the lies, backstabbing, and partisan rancor of the political realm, in our own small ways. There is a deeper lesson here: no political system can make up for the fact that human beings are fallen. Every silver cloud will have a dark lining. 

Obedience to civil leaders is not, it would seem, predicated on the assumption that they are virtuous, right-minded, and supportive of our own most cherished goals. 

Some governments are clearly much worse than others, though. Communism, for instance, elevates its human leaders to a quasi-godlike status, while brutally repressing Christians and other religious groups. Catholics should not be communists. Other forms of government have a more mixed record, and it is left to us to deliberate about the relative strengths and weaknesses. Jesus himself, when the Pharisees tried to back him into a politically controversial corner, gave the instruction to “render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s” (Matt 22:21 ESV). It was a brilliant and adroit reply to a disingenuous question, and it communicates something important: God does want us to try, so far as circumstances allow, to be loyal and law-abiding citizens. At times though, we may wish that Jesus had given us more specific advice. Monarchy or republic? Aristocracy or democracy? What qualities should we value in political leaders, and is it important for them to enjoy “the consent of the governed”?

Jesus never told us. We are merely instructed to “render to Caesar” what is rightfully his. If that ask sounds too hard, we should remember that Jesus’ words were initially addressed to Jews subject to a pagan ruler, in an empire that would soon destroy their temple and, in less than a century, would drive them from the Holy Land entirely, forbidding them even to enter Jerusalem on pain of death. Jesus presumably knew all of this, but he ordered them to pay taxes anyway. Obedience to civil leaders is not, it would seem, predicated on the assumption that they are virtuous, right-minded, and supportive of our own most cherished goals. 

We should still try, within the limits of law, to work for peace and justice within the political realm. This requires great discernment, especially given a form of government may capture one Christian principle well and another less well. The Vendée counterrevolutionaries, who rebelled against the excesses of the French Revolution and marched under the slogan Dieu et Roi (“God and King”) saw a clear connection between a righteous willingness to submit to God’s authority, and a pious willingness to submit to a rightful king. I cannot fault them, especially given their clearly just outrage over the Jacobins’ persecution of the Church, but it is true in any case that people have a natural desire for a king. A justly established monarch can mirror God’s own authority, whereas democratic leaders must constantly sell themselves to the voting public. The electoral process tends to erode the dignity of political office, the citizen’s sense of piety, and the political leaders’ sense of having obligations, not only to their voters but also to future generations, the natural law, and God. 

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At the same time, democracy has its own strengths. It offers at least some check on abuses of power, which is not an advantage Christians can afford to dismiss after witnessing the horrors of twentieth-century totalitarianism. But the benefits of participatory government go even deeper than that. There is something good and ennobling about the universal franchise. It reflects the deeply Christian truth that all humans, regardless of race, sex, or circumstances of birth, are made in God’s image and likeness with a rational nature. We should all want, so far as we are able, to contribute something meaningful to our society. In an election year, responsible citizenship calls for us to deliberate carefully about the state of our nation and to render our considered judgment in the ballot box. This is not necessarily a pleasant duty. I’d much rather focus on those tiger cubs. Nevertheless, we owe it to our nation to make our very best effort to exercise good judgment on its behalf. For us, this may be one way of “rendering to Caesar.”

It may seem impossible to vote virtuously if one is dissatisfied with all the available alternatives. Presumably this is why many people prefer not to vote. A few general principles may be helpful for guiding deliberation. Don’t expect perfection, because that is not possible in a fallen world. If you can in good conscience vote for a major-party candidate, that is generally preferable, because the major parties do the real work of governing in America. But sometimes it is not possible, and in that case, voting for a third party, or writing in a name, can also be an honorable exercise of citizenship. (It is decidedly preferable to not voting, not least because it helps send a message to the major parties that there are active, engaged citizens who find their candidates unacceptable.) Try to vote humbly, recognizing that every one of us necessarily has but a narrow and limited view of the state of the entire nation. Most importantly of all, try to vote piously, with real gratitude for the blessings we have inherited as Americans, and a sincere desire to protect and steward those goods for future generations. Revenge voting is very bad for the soul, as well as the nation.

This is a demoralizing moment, but Christians have already lived through many such moments. We can do it again. The key, as always, is to trust the workings of divine providence, pray for grace, and then do our utmost to apply our God-given gifts to the tasks at hand. It’s hard to be a political animal. But perhaps the burdens will seem bearable if we reflect that we are only asked to carry them a little while. If we do that faithfully, a more perfect kingdom awaits us over the next horizon.