Trumpist Moral Choice
My last post and Rayne’s excellent post A Lapsed Catholic’s Sunday Bible Study raise a question: how does a person claim to be both a Christian and a Trumpist? These two things seem utterly incompatible. In this post I look at this question using a formulation from Lecture 3 of Christine Korsgaard’s book The Sources Of Normativity, augmented by Simone de Beauvoir’s book The Ethics Of Ambiguity.
Identities
Normativity is a neutral word for moral principles. The point of Korsgaard’s book is to show how ethics can be formulated and justified without recourse to external sources, like sacred books.
Korsgaard begins with a description of the individual. She says we adult humans are reflective creatures. We are able to examine our behavior and evaluate it against standards we choose. This is the same ability we use to decide on plans of action. She says that when we are deciding how to act we require reasons. For example, when we experience hunger mid-afternoon, we have to decide whether to grab a snack or not. We give ourselves reasons for each and decide.
Korsgaard says we have different identities. We are spouses, parents, members of a tribe, residents of a city, workers, followers of religions, citizens of a nation. We are also human beings, members of an entire species. Each identity carries with it a set of behaviors, norms, and obligations.
For example, I was a lawyer. I operated under norms set by the ethical requirements of Tennessee. I practiced in the Bankruptcy Courts of Nashville and was bound by an unwritten set of norms established and enforced by my colleagues and the courts. Those norms were reasons to act in particular ways, even when other actions would be easier or more rewarding.
I think these two ideas, reflection and identity, fit nicely with other books I’ve discussed here. We looked at Pierre Bourdieu’s concept of habitus in the discussion of Culture and Power: The Sociology of Pierre Bourdieu. Habitus is much like identities. The notion of reflection is very close to Michael Tomasello’s description of decision-making in The Evolution of Agency.
Korsgaard says that the demands of our identities can clash, and that is what gives rise to moral dilemmas. Here’s an overly simplified example. The father of the guy who murdered Charlie Kirk is apparently a Mormon, a father, and a citizen of Utah, and of course a human being. When confronted with the act of his son, he has to make a moral choice. His identities give rise to reasons for actions, and his internal arbiter has to choose. He chose to act on the norms of a good citizen and a good Mormon, and encourage his own son to turn himself in, despite the fact that Utah is a death penalty state.
It seems that in effect he has to stand away from his identities and examine their claims. It is as if there is another identity, not a social role, but something that is personal to him. Korsgaard refers to this as his internal arbiter. This is the source of his own normativity and in fact, the source of his identity. As Korsgaard puts it:
… [W]e require reasons for action, a conception of the right and the good. To act from such a conception is in turn to have a practical conception of your identity, a conception under which you value yourself and find your life to be worth living and your actions to be worth undertaking. That conception is normative for you and in certain cases it can obligate you, for if you do not allow yourself to be governed by any conception of your identity then you will have no reason to act and to live. P. 122.
The Christian Trumpist
It appears that there is a conflict between the moral teachings of Christianity and the actions of the Trump administration’s program of attacking immigrants and anyone who gets near them. The conflicts with The Parable of the Good Samaritan and the verses cited by Rayne are obvious.
I can think of three ways Trumpist Christians might explain their support for these atrocities. First, they may refuse to see the conflict. For example, if the Trumpist is a serious person in de Beauvoir’s sense, they may have internalized each of their identities so deeply that they only need to identify the situation in order to respond. If the person sees the question purely as a political question, only the Trumpist identity is in action and there is no conflict.
So, if the libtard asks Trumpist Uncle his opinion about the vile treatment of ICE detainees, Trumpist Uncle sees it as political and never ever sees it as a question about Christian values. In such a case Trumpist Uncle can regard himself under both identities without any recourse to an internal moral arbiter.
But worse, I’ve often wondered if Trumpists have an internal arbiter of any kind. Korsgaard and de Beauvoir both say that humans are reflective creatures, able to step back from their behavior and judge it. I don’t see that happening in the Trumpists I see in the media.
Here’s another possibility: a) the Christian and Trumpist identities must both submit to the internal arbiter of the individual to determine the one which will dictate action; or b) the identity as a Christian is the fundamental to the internal arbiter, the one by which all others are judged.
In either of these cases, if the Trumpist identity controls, it’s fair to ask the person in what sense are they actually Christians. If it means I’m a Christian except when Trump makes a demand, are you truly a Christian?
There’s at least one more possibility. Maybe the Christian leaders that the person follows has explained everything in advance. For example, apparently many preachers assert that Trump is the imperfect tool used by the Almighty for good ends, followed by the claim that in this Trump is like King David. 1 Samuel 17 – 1 Kings 2:10.
I wonder how many Christians have read this story themselves. I have, and I reread it for this post. There is no way in which Trump is like King David. First, Trump is a draft-dodging coward who gets other people to do his dirty work (except around Epstein?). David was a powerful warrior, who spent much of his life fighting in actual wars to protect and expand the lands of the Chosen People.
Second, David did in fact sin, again and again. But in each case he repented, and in each case he was punished by the Almighty even after he repented. His biggest crime was the abuse of Bathsheba (the front page art is Rembrandt’s Bathsheba at the Bath, at the Louvre).
2 One evening David got up from his bed and walked around on the roof of the palace. From the roof he saw a woman bathing. The woman was very beautiful, 3 and David sent someone to find out about her. The man said, “She is Bathsheba, the daughter of Eliam and the wife of Uriah the Hittite.” 4 Then David sent messengers to get her. She came to him, and he slept with her. (Now she was purifying herself from her monthly uncleanness.) Then she went back home. 5 The woman conceived and sent word to David, saying, “I am pregnant.”
David first tried to get Uriah to sleep with her to cover his adultery, and when that didn’t work he had his top general put Uriah in the heat of the battle where he was killed.
The Almighty sent the prophet Nathan to tell David he would be punished for this heinous evil. David repents, as he does whenever he realizes he has sinned against the Almighty. But he is punished nevertheless by the treason and death of his beloved son Absalom, and by a life of war.
Trump has never repented any of his terrible sins, and has only rarely been held accountable for anything.
Actual Christians have at least some familiarity with the Bible, especially the important stories. How could anyone see anything of Trump in King David? How is this story a plausible justification for voting for Trump? If a Trumpist Christian bothered to read the story of David would they grasp this? Or is this a bit of evidence that they do not judge moral issues for themselves?
Thank you, Ed, this was very thoughtful and got me thinking.
As with most religions, the very premise of Christianity relies upon magical thinking, and such reliance can predispose a believer to fall under the spell of conspiracy theories, lies, and untruths —particularly if a given proposition “feels good” because it is comforting, or “feels right” because it happens to align with pre-existing prejudices. This is an exceedingly exploitable frame of mind.
Faith requires us to believe, even in the absence of objective evidence. While religion was, for centuries, a glue holding societies and civilizations together, an argument can be made that, in this day and age, it has become a blight upon humanity at a time when we should know better.
Thanks for saving me some keystrokes this Sunday—that just about nails my usual militant atheist screed on Ed’s threads.
Well, XRX, I just turned 60, and a lifetime of watching the United States pay lip-service to superstition has turned me into a curmudgeon, I suppose.
I’m not sure what to make of the term “magical thinking”. There is an assumption at the heart of religion, maybe more than one. In the case of Christianity the assumption is something like: “There exists a supreme being who created us and can intervene in our lives. Given that assumption, the official doctrine of mainstream Christianity, and certainly Catholicism, is pretty much internally consistent.
To put this another way, think about a Sci-Fi or Fantasy novel. There are some assumptions, and once you get them in mind, the story unfolds with those conditions. The same is true of the magical realism literature of South America.
Of course, many Christian sects add a lot of imaginative stuff. Some people take those things literally. Others see them as teacching tools or believe them in a very loose way.
The important thing is that starting with the assumptions and even the imaginative stuff, centuries of thinkers have generated a moral code that informs me and the thinkers I’ve been discussing.
I don’t think it’s the religion that leads people to believe garbage.
English novelist Dan Jacobsen long ago wrote a fabulous novel called “The Rape of Tamar,” which deals with David and his sons. Well worth checking out.
As to the Trumpist/Christian conundrum, I think it’s relatively easy for some folks to live without cognitive dissonance on this score. If you conceive of morality not as a METHOD, a way of thinking your way through difficult choices, but instead conceive of morality as a set of RULES, then you can tell yourself that the rules are thus-and-such, and in any particular case, adhering to Trump doesn’t violate a particular “rule.” And of course, you can change the rules, or adjust them rather, whenever the dissonance becomes too strong. So if you want to maintain racist beliefs, you can tell yourself that the rule in this case is related to the “sons of Ham,” and still sleep comfortably each night. And I’m sure you could come up with a “rule” for every situation which, on the surface, violates the basic tenets of your supposed “religion.”
My own experience has been that where powerful emotions are engaged, the rules, whatever they are, go out the window. How else can we account for so many pastors being caught with their pants down, so to speak?
That last sentence!
First, the tenets of these followers are only skin deep. Trump’s appeal is to give them cover for abandoning themselves to their lowest instincts, releasing hate which they can then direct onto all those “others” whom they deem to be their enemies (libtards, evolutionists, immigrants, etc., etc.) Their pent-up feelings of frustration get at least temporary relief, and thanks to Trump they believe they are doing good while getting that release. They might probably only self-challenge if they ever took things too far and somebody got badly hurt as a consequence.
As to preachers, any social movement which has a mass following, be it religion or politics or whatever, is guaranteed to attract parasites whose only interest, while covering themselves in the cloth of righteousness, is the exercise of unfettered power over people, to extract from it whatever they can for themselves.
Agreed, this becomes far more likely in cultish circumstances, as at present with these self-professed “Christians” who in doctrinal terms are plain idolators and heretics. No wonder that there currently seems to be a veritable glut of pedophile religionists. But atheists should quietly resist the temptation to climb on a moral high horse, since it has happened in non-religious societies too, the most obvious being the late unlamented Soviet Union (eg. Lysenko).
As someone who has grown both more spiritually inclined, or maybe more interested in the subtle nuances of conflicting ethics and values as I’ve advanced into middle-age, I am very interested in the topic of this article Mr Walker. I was raised in a very Catholic country, but am myself Jewish, so I guess I’ve been curious about this my whole life: how do both these religious seem to teach “behavior A” but have so many followers who do “behavior B” where A and B are in opposition with each other?
What I suspect, but can’t prove, is that your point about “religious leaders have explained it in advance” is probably the most correct. I can see this in myself: I recently joined a very left-wing, queer-friendly Renewal congregation, and I find myself listening to the Rabbi/Spiritual Leader in how presents bible passages, interprets them for our day and age. He’s very much leaning into the current political reality, and engaging with this. I must admit that he’s influencing my way of approaching new situations, new facts, and helping me put them into a values/ethics framework in my own head.
Of course, I find his teachings nuanced and help me think about the world in a way that I think is positive. And he’s also encouraging all of us to bring our own values and opinions, he’s very much not a “my way or the highway” and encourages disagreement within the congregation. But I can easily see how in a different setting, with a different approach, less encouraging of disagreement and more a “think like me” attitude from any religious leader, things could go differently.
Which makes me think that your question really boils down to how well do religious leaders approach things. Do they encourage disagreement and real engagement with the topics in their followers? Or do they encourage group-think-like-me behavior? And, orthogonally, do the religious leaders engage in ethical nuance or happily teach things like “it’s OK to render immigrants to torture centers in El Salvador”? In the religions I know a little about, and I’m no expert, I think we can definitely see examples all combinations.
Thanks Ed for another very thoughtful post. My experience with Evangelical Christians (who I think are Trump’s most ardent followers) is that their knowledge of the Bible is limited to memorizing. certain out-of-context Bible verses that fit their worldview, regurgitating them by rote as needed and little else. Most don’t know that Jesus hung out with tax collectors (the apostle Matthew was a tax collector) or that Jesus had biological brothers and sisters. They probably don’t know that the first words Jesus spoke when he supposedly returned from the dead was “Feed my sheep”, which makes me wonder how many support Trump withholding SNAP benefits? Most Christians have only a dim understanding of how the Bible was put together, how it is derivative of other Middle Eastern religions and how so many of the stories and parables are borrowed from other early writings. Thanks again for making us think!
Thank you, Mr. Walker; that was a good read.
This is an excellent post that generated thoughtful comments.
I’m not a gourmand of bad theology, but I’ve seen more references to Trump as Cyrus the Great (“a pagan, who God chose in Isaiah 45 to deliver God’s people”) than David. Intentionally bad theologians likely prefer Cyrus the Great, who wasn’t a person of God (so, no obvious reason for God to choose him, which gets you past why God chose Trump), but is chosen by God to deliver God’s people (so, people like us).
Bringing up David drags up that whole “David repented, but Trump doesn’t” thing, and if you/your congregation doesn’t know anything about Cyrus the Great except what the Bible tells you, there’s fewer chances of anyone asking awkward questions.
Yes, that’s the version I’ve run up against. A vain, proud emperor who just happens to be the right tool at the right time. Still not a good fit, but better than David!
In Trump’s first term, I was told that Trump was King Cyrus, the evil king who protected the Israelites. I guess he’s been promoted to King David. Do the Trump apologists mean to suggest that only bad people can do great things? Do they consider that King Cyrus and King David may be the exceptions that prove the rule. What the example of bad actor-good results should mean is that God’s ultimate purpose is not often clear. And so it is best to be a good person, the Pascalian bet.
I suspect that many Trump Christians find pastors who can make them feel hopeful and to feel good or, at least, hopeful about themselves, a sort of religious confirmation bias. These are not deep thinkers.
Then there are Peter Thiel types who have convinced themselves that “Thou Shalt Be Greedy” is actually one of the 10 Commandments. He and his tech friends have their own form of confirmation bias. They may believe that they are deep thinkers. And in their bubble, they may be deep thinkers but are lack self-awareness. Or the JD Vance types who are just opportunistic cafeteria Christians with an intellectual veneer.
The issue with the tech bros is that many of them believe in the singularity, which is that period of time when technical power essentially becomes infinite. (A science-fiction book by Charles Stross called ‘Accelerando’ is a good example of what they’re expecting.) AI forms a big part of Singulatarian beliefs, (see Roku’s Basilisk.) So when Peter Thiel tells us that anti-AI beliefs are the anti-christ he’s really translating Singulatarian beliefs into plain, Christian English. Peter Thiel is apparently very religious, so he’s probably grafted Singulatarianism onto Xtianity somehow.
All of that is a very fancy way of saying the accelerationist techbros are eugenicists. Fuck them, as if they are the best of humanity as they leach off the rest of humanity.
They can all move to Mars, then. We won’t be in their way, and they won’t be in ours.
Unfortunately that’s the same kind of colonization Britain did when it sent its criminal population to Australia and the American colonies. They don’t get to escape having to work cooperatively with humans here on earth.
As one who was reared in a rabid Nazarene family, my experience is that the divide is between faith and reason; of course, reliance on faith leads to horrible bouts of cognitive dissonance so you learn to ignore conflicting data or you abandon faith.
I’m coming to this with a more psychological (well, psychodynamic) perspective. Korsgaard makes, I think, two assumptions that may not be warranted. One is that the internal arbiter is essentially rational. This is a lot like the traditional economist’s view of humans as rational actors. It presupposes that we will always search for a measured solution to inner conflicts without doing anything to “cheat” and so avoid the painful truth. I’m not sure that’s always true of anyone, but I’m quite confident that it is not always true of most everyone. Many of our internal compromises are less than optimal. One might, for example, manage not to notice or process a thought that would create dissonance – or find a rationalization to reduce its impact. The other is that everyone has this reflective capacity and the associated inner arbiter. I think that is true of most people but that there is a large minority who never reach that level of psychological maturity. I’m thinking of those organized at a borderline level (note that this is not limited to the DSM diagnosis carrying that name, though people fitting that category would be included). Here, identity has not cohered or crystallized, and there remains a deep rift or split between different aspects of the self. The two modes of experiencing are incompatible and cannot be active at the same time. If I am in one mode, the other ceases to exist for me. For such a person, it will be easy to live fully within the Christian mode (as understood by them) at some times and fully within the Trumpian fascist mode at others. Of note, when working with patients of this general type, it is not at all easy to inculcate self-reflection. At least initially, one’s clumsier efforts will elicit only rage.
[Uggg…I’m trying to say something about this, but can’t figure out how…, so I’ll just blurt it out.]
“Adult humans are reflective creatures” [who have an internal arbiter].
Humans who have an internal arbiter are adult humans.
Humans without an internal arbiter are NOT adult humans.
I enjoyed this, Ed.
These people are not deep thinkers. To them Christianity is first, a virtue signal (e.g., Fox hosts wearing crosses, self-describing as “Christian, mother, wife, Republican”) and second, a handy Get Out Of Hell Free card to be used whenever cognitive dissonance intrudes on happy MAGA thoughts (e.g., “I never said Trump was perfect and besides Jesus forgives sinners”).
I was raised Catholic so I know the mind games I played with myself to rationalize continued belief. But doubts kept creeping in. There was fear of being the only person I knew who was having doubts (everyone I knew seemed to believe in God). Ironically it was a religion class at a Christian college that forced me to face my doubts. Belief was no longer good enough, I wanted knowledge.
The Good Liars like to interview Christian Trumpists and give them enough rope to hang themselves. It’s funny but also depressing.