The Failure of ‘Christian Politics’

A lot of “believing Christians” have been making foreign policy for the United States since Jimmy Carter came to office. On their foreheads the ointment of “moral vision” glistens, and on their vestments is stitched the crusader’s cross of human rights— the mark by which they wish history to remember them. The President himself reminds interviewers that he is “a religious man,” and moves between his roles as Sunday School teacher and humble occupant of “the bully pulpit” with no discernible rupture of style or pace. Hodding Carter, like his ex-boss Cyrus Vance, may be a little more discreet, ironic, and taciturn about his religion, but of his own moral idealism there can be little doubt. A fairer group of Knights of the White Mantle would be hard to find anywhere in the annals of the U.S. State Department, not even under McKinley, who undertook God’s work in the Philippines, and certainly not in Camelot.

Indeed, one key to the inmost character of Hamilton Jordan, masked by a purposive image of buffoonery, is to see in him the moral idealism of a Vista volunteer (which he once was) embroidered around the edges with resentment of the corrupt Eastern Establishment, against which “this President” (thus distinguished from all others) wages relentless moral war. Renouncing all “inordinate fear” of the Soviets at Notre Dame in 1977, “this President” has never stilled his inordinate fear of the real enemy of the Republic: the established leaders of our unrepented past.

About the Author

Michael Novak

Michael Novak was a Catholic philosopher, journalist, novelist, and diplomat.

Featured Tags

A lot of “believing Christians” have been making foreign policy for the United States since Jimmy Carter came to office. On their foreheads the ointment of “moral vision” glistens, and on their vestments is stitched the crusader’s cross of human rights— the mark by which they wish history to remember them. The President himself reminds interviewers that he is “a religious man,” and moves between his roles as Sunday School teacher and humble occupant of “the bully pulpit” with no discernible rupture of style or pace. Hodding Carter, like his ex-boss Cyrus Vance, may be a little more discreet, ironic, and taciturn about his religion, but of his own moral idealism there can be little doubt. A fairer group of Knights of the White Mantle would be hard to find anywhere in the annals of the U.S. State Department, not even under McKinley, who undertook God’s work in the Philippines, and certainly not in Camelot.

Indeed, one key to the inmost character of Hamilton Jordan, masked by a purposive image of buffoonery, is to see in him the moral idealism of a Vista volunteer (which he once was) embroidered around the edges with resentment of the corrupt Eastern Establishment, against which “this President” (thus distinguished from all others) wages relentless moral war. Renouncing all “inordinate fear” of the Soviets at Notre Dame in 1977, “this President” has never stilled his inordinate fear of the real enemy of the Republic: the established leaders of our unrepented past.