The presidential election is officially upon us. With Iowa
in the rearview mirror, the nation’s attention now focuses on New Hampshire,
followed by South Carolina and Nevada, and ultimately with the Super Tuesday
primary contests in March. I don’t fancy myself a political guru or pundit, but
around this time of year, I find myself wanting to be well-informed. After
watching a few GOP presidential debates and one of the Democratic contests, I
think we could probably summarize the major motivation of both party platforms
in one word: fear.
Fear of terrorism, fear of economic inequality, fear of
Obamacare, fear of debt, fear of global warming, fear of immigrants. In the 2016
presidential contest, whether for Republicans, Democrats or even Independents,
the tenor of the day is fear. And to some degree, I understand the concerns. We
should be actively concerned with radical terrorist organizations who threaten
not only our well-being but the lives and safety of all people. We should fear
crippling national debt that paralyzes commerce and in the long run, human
flourishing. We should be concerned about the poorest of not only our nation
but also the world and caring for them well. We may disagree on how to assail
and ultimately overcome these daunting challenges, but I think we can all agree
they are concerning and at times, frightening.
But the politics of fear goes far beyond a healthy concern
for real threats. In this presidential election, more than most others, it is a
tool for the simple reason that fear motivates. With that tool handy,
politicians have been eager to flock to another troubling human reality: the
love of war. Do you have a reasonable fear of ISIS? Vote for Ted Cruz – he
promises to “carpet bomb the Middle East until the sand glows in the dark.”
Afraid of Syrian refugees? Trump is your candidate, vowing to place an
indefinite stay on all Muslim immigration and refugee asylum in the United
States. Economic inequality and global warming haunting your dreams? Vote for
Bernie Sanders, the candidate who promised in one democratic debate “a
political and social revolution.” What about cyber-warfare and a growing
nuclear menace in both North Korea and Iran? Fret not, vote for Hillary
Clinton, a proven state leader who knows how to act decisively and vigorously
when need be. After all, she was under heavy sniper fire in Bosnia in 1996.
In 2016, fear is a commodity and every candidate,
Republican, Democrat, or Socialist, is banking on you and I buying the fear
they are selling and then wholeheartedly throwing our support behind their plan
for war – be it a socio-economic revolution or stunning military campaign in
Syria mingled with anti-immigrant legislation at home. Fear in 2016 will define
much of our presidential race and discourse about the election. Fear leading to
a love of war. War, which with god-like power pulverizes the source and cause
of our discomfort and unease.
Perhaps the most nauseating example of this would be Donald
Trump’s campaign that he readily admits has taken on “the mantle of anger.”
Bloodlust and self-righteous retribution against all of America’s enemies, real
or illusionary, seems to be his major talking points. Recently what stood out
most about Donald Trump is his seeming eagerness for conflict. He seems to
personify the desire and love of war. This embodiment of the love of war, of
domination, of subjugation, in a single candidate should disturb us. As a
three-time alumnus of Liberty University, I was flabbergasted and dismayed when
the University Chancellor and President, Jerry Falwell Jr. sought to catalyze
Christian support for Donald Trump. Forget the extra-marital trysts. Forget the
wealth built of the backs of poor people that elevates a singular bombastic ego
while increasing the misery of thousands looking for hope in a slot machine. Forget
the demonization of non-white races or his exploitation of women at his
casino’s exotic dance clubs. Donald Trumps eager zeal and love of war alone
should have caused the University leader to at least pause and reevaluate.
In a strikingly similar context, Winston Churchill warned
the House of Commons in 1901 of the misery, pain, and agony that come when fear
is capitalized upon and politicians and the people at large, love war. Rebuking
his colleagues in Parliament for their lust and love of war, Churchill said, “I have
frequently been astonished to hear with what composure and how glibly Members,
and even Ministers, talk of war…such a conflict (will end) in the ruin of the
vanquished and the scarcely less fatal commercial dislocation and exhaustion of
the conquerors.” Churchill, one of the greatest leaders in human history – the
man who bolstered a faltering British spirit during the darkest days of World
War II – was a man who was not eager to plunge humanity into war. Neither a
pacifist nor a warlord, Churchill chartered a third path less frequented in his
and our political landscape: he hated war and its devastation but saw its
necessity at times.
I am not a pacifist. I believe that as long as sin and evil
are a reality in our world, that war will at times be the just and right cause.
Pacifism, Churchill would later note, often accelerates war as the appeasement
policy of Chamberlain with Adolf Hitler eventually revealed. But I also don’t
think Christians should love war. I understand the political gesticulating –
it’s easy for Sanders or Cruz or Trump or Rubio or whoever to speak with
bravado now because frankly, their words are empty. There’s now situation room
they will enter immediately after a debate where they will have to make good on
their promises of war. War is for each of them, a hypothetical – one they all
seem eager to make a reality.
For Christians, this means we need to think more critically
about war and not buy into the political love affair of the day. We shouldn’t
have the seeming angry bloodlust of so many candidates jockeying for our votes.
We should strive however we can to live peaceably with all people (Rom. 12:18).
We should also be grateful for our governments, which, like it or not, God has
divinely set over us, for better or worse, to protect the upright and punish
the wicked (in an ideal world). And above all, I think it means we don’t look
to war for hope. I think it means we call this national love affair with war
what it is – a broken idolatry; a search for hope and peace and safety through
the domination of those who are our enemies. A Christian love and eagerness for
the widespread, cataclysmic destruction of war is an oxymoron.
Good can come from war – tales of heroism, loyalty,
sacrifice, and bravery populate the bleak landscape of war. In fact, my
favorite movie is Saving Private Ryan
– a story of family, love, loyalty, bravery, and courage that all take place
against the backdrop of Hitler’s psychotic plan to dominate the world and those
who courageously, sacrificially opposed him. Those qualities that are brought out
from conflict are to be honored and celebrated. We should love the men that
embody them, not the devastation that called them out. To quote J.R.R. Tolkien,
a veteran of World War I, “War must be, while we defend our lives against a
destroyer who would devour all. But I do not love the bright sword for its
sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I
love only that which they defend.”
Sound advice in a world where fear is a political commodity
and war is our saving grace.
