Fewer Broken Pieces

Some political action committee has started airing ads which highlight the connection between Senator Obama and Reverend Wright.  The hope is that Americans will decide Obama has bad judgment (or hates America, or somewhere in between) and choose to vote for the other guy.  I don’t really care, though I find the silence on Senator McCain’s religious life deafening by comparison.  Obama did indeed denounce Wright, just as Wright had predicted would happen some time ago.  This instance of a politician severing ties with a church for political expediency has probably made me more cynical about politics than anything else.

Perhaps I have some latent bias towards Obama, but try as I may, I just cannot find anything particularly scandalous in the preaching of Jeremiah Wright.  He espouses some opinions which I think are best regarded as “conspiracy theories,” such as the US government introducing drugs or AIDS to black populations, or the government causing levies to fail in New Orleans in the wake of Hurricane Katrina.  However, given the nature of the Tuskegee experiments, I can hardly fault black people for expecting the worst from the government.  Moreover, I myself have been quite enamored with conspiracy theories at times (something which I attribute to being brought up on the X-Files).  Yes, I acknowledge that some of Wright’s ideas are wrong or questionable, but I do not think those errant views invalidate his overall message.

Yet these are not what the media typically focus on.  What they focus on are the more inflammatory of Wright’s statements, including “God damn America,” and “America’s chickens are coming home to roost” (concerning the causes of 9/11).  These out-of-context clips are characterized as “hate speech” or “anti-American” or “having nothing to do with the gospel.”  The essence of Wright’s rhetoric can be summarized thus: “God is not pleased with America when it does bad things” and “America should obey the golden rule.”  I don’t object to either of those messages.  What most people are reacting against is the shock-value of Wright’s statements and tone.  Once again, I do not object to these.  Wright is loud and fiery, and he preaches provocatively.  When presented in isolation, his sermons can be passed as “hate speech” by commentators.  However, when taken in context, his sermons are a powerful prophetic witness.  So I do not count Wright against Obama.

But Obama severed his ties nonetheless.  A presidential candidate cannot affirm an association with someone who speaks against America.  This elucidates the problem of Christian participation in electoral politics.  If we as Christians have something critical to say against the United States, that sentiment cannot be shared by any mainstream candidate for the Presidency.  Therefore I fear voting can at times be an affirmation of patriotism above faith.

Pilate presents Jesus

I nearly voted, by write-in, for Pontius Pilate to be the President of the United States.  It would have been a joke, for sure, but the sort of joke which provokes more thought than laughter.  Instead I opted to vote for no one, which sparked quite the outrage among friends and family.  It seems anything is better than not voting, and even the non-vote born of laziness or apathy is better than what I did.  However, this was the desired effect, because I thought a non-vote to be the most effective means to raising my thoughts and concerns about Christianity and politics.

Here I will present three basic reasons that I did not vote for President.  The first two will be rather brief, but the third will form the crux of my current thinking on voting.

First, I have become rather fond of federalism of late.  Therefore I think we would be better served by having our President elected by a means other than a popular vote.  For example, state legislatures could choose free-will electors by preferential vote.  I believe this would facilitate a better selection process which cannot be so heavily driven by the media.  Think of the money which could be saved if candidates only had to campaign for 538 individuals.  Moreover, think of the benefit to our society were we spared from the eternal election cycle and the divisive rhetoric which accompanies it.  This proposal is unpopular by definition, but I think at this present juncture it could be quite useful for states to follow their forebears and take the vote for President out of the hands of the people.

Second, I wanted to give concrete expression to my heavenly citizenship.  The preponderance of salvific and even messianic language coming from some high-profile candidates this season has given me pause.  The hope to which I so firmly hold is Jesus Christ, not the political movement of Barack Obama.  Moreover, the change I seek is the change of Jesus’ inbreaking kingdom, not that of a political “maverick” named John McCain.

Obviously, I have saddled each with a perhaps unfair equivocation of what each means by “hope” and “change.”  Neither Obama nor McCain would say he is seeking to usurp a role which only God can fulfill.  Yet as I considered the concept of heavenly citizenship, I realized that I myself give very little expression to my understanding of the hope and change that are in Christ Jesus.  My hope was indeed vested in Presidential politics, at least in terms of any practical expression.  My hope in Jesus was purely theoretical.  Therefore I thought it best, for my own devotional edification, to opt out of voting for a leader and instead to merely say “Jesus is Lord.”  By doing so, I am expressing that I am not expecting ultimate hope nor change from worldly leaders.  Rather I can relax in knowing that whoever wins this tiny election, Jesus Christ still sits at the right hand of the Father, waiting to usher in His kingdom on earth.

The final reason I elected not to vote this year centered around the question of voting as Christian orthopraxy.  In other words, as I have asked before, is it possible to vote righteously?  Another way of asking the same question: should faith inform one’s voting?  Based on my purely anecdotal experiences, I believe that most Christians want to say that their faith affects how they vote.  My question is different from and prior to that question: how can faith inform voting?

We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, eternally begotten of the Father, God from God, light from light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, of one Being with the Father; through him all things were made.

How someone can go from faith (as witnessed in the Nicene creed) to Democrat or Republican is a mystery to me.  I simply see nothing in any tradition’s creed, confession of faith, catechism, or doctrinal statement which can tell me whether supply-side or demand-side economics are better; whether welfare programs are best executed in the US by the states or the federal government; whether “the right of the People to keep and bear arms” should include assault rifles; whether a federal ban on off-shore drilling should be lifted; etc., ad nauseum.  Christian faith, in and of itself, cannot inform our voting, unless there is a measure on the ballot, “Do you believe in one God . . . ”

Saddam is toppled

I think that if asked about these issues, most Christians who say that their faith affects their vote would agree that there is no clear “Christian” position on many of these partisan distinctives.  They are, for the most part, purely a matter of personal preference.  If someone would like to make a political case for a politician or an issue, one must do it from the standpoint of Christian ethics, not Christian faith.  Are there any issues facing the United States about which Christian ethics can make an authoritative pronouncement?  To each individual, it would seem there are.  However, I can affirm the Nicene creed with my Episcopalian friends, some of whom disagree with me on whether abortion should be illegal.  Also, I can affirm the Foursquare doctrinal statement, but many of my friends in that movement disagree with me on the wars.

There is also the question of to what degree our Christian ethics should correspond to the laws of laws and politics of a liberal democracy.  My conservative friends believe that we should clothe and feed the poor, but they do not believe that such charity should be mandated and carried out by the government.  My liberal friends believe that homosexuality is wrong, but they do not believe that gay couples should be deprived of the same benefits as straight couples.  With regard to abortion, should Christians vote for McCain because he takes a principled stand against legalized abortion, or Obama, whose policies might greater reduce the actual occurrence of abortion in the United States?

Sarah Palin’s former pastor said, “If every Christian will vote righteously, it would be a landslide every time.”  In my opinion, the only way to vote righteously is to vote self-righteously.  I know I have made an inflammatory statement here, and I do not wish to unduly offend anyone.  Yet when I look at the complexity of voting and of Christian ethics, I can come to no other conclusion.  Voting is subjective.  Even on seemingly easy questions, Christian tradition cannot easily be boiled down to a vote for a single candidate.

I believe we have to approach voting humbly and dispassionately, if at all.  We do so because in our weakness we admit that we lack the wisdom to discern God’s will in every instance.  We do so because in nearly every case in politics, there is no one right answer, yet we feel compelled by our civic duty to do something.  We do so because our own Christian brothers and sisters, who believe in God with the same sincerity, may come to opposite conclusions.  And finally, by voting dispassionately, we acknowledge that the politics of this world are not the ultimate end.  It does not matter greatly if things do not go our way, because we trust that “in all things God works for the good of those who love him.”

This year I assumed the ultimate dispassionate posture: I chose not to vote for President.  I may or may not make the same decision in the future.  Yet this year it seemed right to me to excuse myself from the noise.  On November 4th, I will be free to take in the greatest spectacle on earth without worrying about a right or wrong result.  I will be trusting in God’s providence rather than the will of the electorate.

I guess I better practice what I preach.  So, in order to make my political voice better heard, and to foster discussion, I am eschewing the private ballot and posting my votes online:

United States Senate - Dave Brownlow (Constitution)

This was a vote against Gordon Smith’s vote to authorize the Iraq war.  He has actually faced reelection since that vote in 2002, but the war started in 2003, so this is his first chance to be called to account.  Also, for some reason I am turned off by Merkley, and this seemed to be an excellent situation to express my general dissatisfaction with the two-party system.  Therefore I voted for the “third party” on the ballot.  There are also some aspects of Brownlow’s platform I appreciate.

United States House (1st District) - Joel Haugen (Republican/independent)

I appreciated Haugen’s blurb in the voter’s pamphlet.  He was originally selected as the Republican candidate, but he opted to be listed as an independent on the ballot.  I have nothing particular against Wu except his ultimate vote for the bailout.

Secretary of State - Rick Dancer (Republican)

I was struck by Dancer’s blurb, and I wanted to vote for someone outside of the establishment of Salem politics.

State Treasurer - Allen Alley (Republican)

Same as above - an outsider with an impressive pitch.

Attorney General - John Kroger (Democrat/Republican)

Let’s face it: he’s a superstar.

Measure 54 - Yes.  Why not?

Measure 55 - Yes.  Why not?

Measure 56 - Yes.  Requiring majority vote plus majority turnout strikes me as anti-democratic.  If we are going to do direct democracy, let’s really do it.

Measure 57 - Yes.  I was conflicted about this.  What ultimately swayed me was my experience as a volunteer in Oregon Corrections and the endorsements this measure received from law enforcement and corrections organizations, not to mention the aforementioned superstar (and future AG) John Kroger.

Measure 58 - No. This is best left to school districts to decide.  Educators I have spoken with do not think this is the best approach.  And, as with all Bill Sizemore measures, I would like to discourage his efforts.

Measure 59 - No.  While I am sympathetic to those who complain about “double taxation,” I am more than a little disturbed at the effect this measure would have on state revenues.

Measure 60 - No.  This matter is best left to school districts to decide for themselves.  Also, why should seniority be totally excluded from deciding pay?  Additionally, I am curious about how classroom performance can be accurately and fairly measured.  This measure does not define good classroom performance.

Measure 61 - No.  I am not a fan of mandatory minimum sentences.  Let judges be judges.  Also, the populist “law and order vote” makes me uneasy, especially when corrections professionals seem to favor 57.

Measure 62 - No.  Being a young buck, I am not (yet?) a law and order voter.  Leave the lottery fund alone.  Also, why not eliminate the voluntary tax of the lottery and actually fully fund our government through taxation?

Measure 63 - No.  This one came down to the arguments.  I trust that removing the need for permits on smaller construction will cause problems.

Measure 64 - No.  Believe me, I am sympathetic to union members whose dues are being spent against their will to fund political campaigns.  However, that needs to be a matter of union charters and negotiations, not of state law.  I am also concerned about unintended legal consequences of this law.

Measure 65 - Yes.  I am an unaffiliated voter.  Why should I have to pay for primary elections in which I cannot vote?  Partisan primaries should not be facilitated by state elections.  Let the parties choose their candidates on their own dime.

President of The United States of America - None.  I will elaborate on my decision to abstain from the presidential vote in a forthcoming post.

Jessica Alba laments silencing herself.

Around each election, there is an increase of media aimed at encouraging young people to register and vote.  The theme of these particular ads is that voting constitutes one’s political “voice.” In other words, voting is the only means of expressing one’s political wishes.  “Only you can silence yourself,” the argument goes.  The thought brings poor Jessica Alba to tears.  Judging by what I have heard and experienced these past months, the concept of voting-as-voice is rather popular in America.

My reading of Nekeisha Alexis-Baker’s essay “Freedom of Voice: Non-Voting and the Political Imagination,” in Electing Not to Vote has lead me to question the proposition that one’s vote constitutes one’s political voice.  Therefore what follows is heavily indebted to her writing.  If voting constitutes one’s voice, then our political voices are very limited instruments indeed.  Here following I will suggest a number of reasons why voting is not a citizen’s only political voice.  Indeed, it is probably the least effective (and certainly least expressive) means of expressing oneself politically.

Voting is binary (or trinary, etc.)

Depending on what is placed on the ballot, the choices for voters are very limited.  In the case of propositions, there is only “Yes” or “No.”  In the case of candidates, there can be anywhere from one to dozens of choices, but there is most often only a handful.  So, to extend the metaphor of voting-as-voice: someone who votes has a voice which can only speak two words.  Or, to use another analogy: voting is a musical instrument which can only play two notes.

So what happens if I need to say something which cannot be expressed in only two words?  What if I want to play Bolero instead of Hot Cross Buns?  As Christians, I suspect this can come up quite frequently.  One candidate might espouse certain Christian values while another might espouse others, and both might espouse some decidedly unchristian values.  Voting by its very nature is limiting.  Therefore it is problematic to limit our own political engagement by choosing voting as our only voice.

Voting is monolithic

When we vote for a candidate, we are voting not just for a person, but for that person’s platform.  It is like the infamous omnibus spending bills in Congress.  We lack a line-item veto.  In the current political environment of the United States, it is highly unlikely that a candidate could make it to the national stage with a platform (and personal character) which could be wholly embraced by a Christian in good conscience.  So if we choose to vote for somebody with whom we do not totally agree, there is no way to express that in the act of voting.  The vote is counted for that individual and there is no indication that my vote is not an endorsement of that candidate’s embrace of abortion or war.  If we want to express that our vote is not an endorsement of the monolithic party line, we must exercise our voices outside of the ballot box.

Voting is unqualified

When we vote, there is no space provided on the ballot to express why we voted for a particular candidate or proposition.  This can be illustrated by an upcoming ballot measure in Oregon. It will create a state law to govern how long English language learners can in taught in their native languages in public schools.  Some will vote “No” because they think this is a bad policy from the perspective of education.  However, others will vote “No” because they think such determinations are best left to local school boards.  And some (like myself) will vote “No” for both reasons, and a few others (including my dissatisfaction with the Oregon initiative process and with the sponsor of this particular measure).  My political voice has a lot to say about Measure 58, but I cannot express it by voting.  Only the “Yes” or the “No” comes through.

Voting is anonymous

Because we use a secret ballot in the United States, voting is anonymous.  I understand the merits of this practice.  However, it compromises the function of voting as one’s political voice.  After I cast a ballot, what I expressed is no longer mine.  It has joined the great cacophony of other voices, and cannot be traced back to me.  Once it is gone, the candidates and pundits are free to interpret the anonymous results in any way they choose, since voting in unqualified and anonymous.  My vote is no longer mine, so it cannot tell anyone anything about me or my opinions.

Conclusion

As far as political expression goes, voting is weak.  In order to fully express myself politically, I must do something in addition to voting.  Herein is the great irony of these ads.  They themselves are a form of political speech outside of the ballot box.  There are many ways to express oneself, including making documentary films, blogging, protesting, and the like.  To think that voting is a sufficient means of expressing one’s political opinions is to be guilty of not having a big enough imagination.  Consequently, I do not regard non-voting as something to cry about.  By electing not to vote, I can express my political ideas - my voice - just as clearly as someone who has voted, but without participating in the problematic institution of voting.  As Electing Not to Vote has shown, there are many good reasons for not voting, ranging from problems of corruption to questions of allegiance.

I concur: “Only you can silence yourself.”  Voting is one of the best ways to do that.

This is the table of contents for my interactions with Electing Not to Vote: Christian Reflections on Reasons for Not Voting.

1. John D. Roth
2. Andy Alexis-Baker
3. Nekeisha Alexis-Baker
4. G. Scott Becker
5. Michael Degan
6. Todd David Whitmore
7. Paul Alexander
8. Tato Sumantri
9. Ted Lewis

Further reflections:

• Voting: A voice with two notes
• Voting with the stars
• Dispassionate Voting
• Obama’s chickens coming home to roost

This is the last in my series of interactions with the essays collected in Electing Not to Vote: Christian Reflections on Reasons for Not Voting. Ted Lewis, the editor of the collection, provides an essay entitled “The ‘Presidentialdom’ of God: Our Conversation with Pilate.”

Lewis focuses on the metaphysics of voting as it were, and does not want to focus on the process of voting.  The center of his inquiry is similar to that of Sumantri: what does our heavenly citizenship mean in the context of earthly politics?  So he opens the essay:

How do we demonstrate our political identity?  What, in fact, determines our political identity?  These are the seminal questions that drove the conversation between Jesus and Pilate, and my hope is that we can draw ourselves into this same conversation. (102)

I appreciate Lewis’ use of Pilate in this discussion.  Pilate represents the very opposite of good government (he was indeed a terror to He who did good).  Lewis argues that “voting for political leaders . . . establishes a bond between people and government in similar ways that religion establishes bonds between people and deities.”  Therefore Christians should refrain from voting, because they can only give such allegiance to Christ.  Lewis’ thesis is intuitive for me insofar as I believe that is what practically happens in many cases.  Partisanship can create strong loyalties which I agree are inappropriate for Christians.  What I am not convinced by is the uniformity of this problem.

Lewis makes an interesting comparison between Christians wielding political power and taking vengeance for ourselves.  I am reminded of course of Romans 12:

Do not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord.

which is followed by this in Romans 13:

[A political leader] is God’s servant, an agent of wrath to bring punishment on the wrongdoer.

That is, it seems the state is a legitimate means of God’s vengeance in the temporal realm.  How this would bear on Lewis’ assertion I am not sure, but it was a striking connection for me.

The conversation between Jesus and Pilate is examined with great impact.  Lewis notes that Pilate was a sound and moderate governor, who sought to quell the extreme fancies of the various people he governed, including those who arrested Jesus.  The power of the encounter between Jesus and Pilate is that Pilate put the decision to free Barabbas and to kill Jesus to the people.  A popular vote, as it were.

Lewis posits that Jesus and the Twelve would not have been voters in their day because of how Jesus reoriented politics.  Here Lewis is arguing for non-voting as a normative Christian practice.  This reoriented politics was ironic because Jesus was not acquiring political power through force - quite the opposite.  It is also contrary to the democratic process, because a Christian politics is based on all members being in one in fellowship (κοινωνια) and having the same mind that was in Christ (Philippians 2), not on one group lording it over the other.  Consequently voting (and the Pledge, among other political expressions) are not compatible with God’s politics.

One of Lewis’ strongest points is that Christians place their hope in God and not in the political processes.  Therefore we can rest assured when our personal political preferences do not pan out.  We trust God with the outcome of the election.  In the meantime, we are free to practice the ultimate form of political engagement - love.

Concerning the initial question about political identity, Lewis suggests that it can be best demonstrated by not voting.  Overall, his essay strikes a powerful chord in me.  The question of the expression of political identity is not often addressed.  While I am not convinced that merely voting creates bonds of allegiance between the voter and the state, I am convinced that such bonds are to be avoided.  This essay is an effective capstone to the collection, one which I am sure to reread every two to four years.

This is the eighth in my series of interactions with the essays collected in Electing Not to Vote: Christian Reflections on Reasons for Not Voting. Tato Sumantri provides an essay entitled “The Folly of Not Voting: Reflections on the Incoherence of the Church.”

Sumantri opens with a note that the following essay will probably make no sense to someone who is not a disciple of Jesus.  Following is an account of his youth in Indonesia and the political turmoil that nation experienced in the 1960s.  Following that, he notes that he first became disillusioned with politics during the Carter administration, when all the hope of having a born-again President was washed down the drain by the political realities of Washington, DC.

Sumantri concluded that what he was looking for - peace and justice - had no chance of being established by any form of human government.  Godly politics (non-coercive love) cannot be compatible with worldly politics (coercive violence).  Here Sumantri posits that a declaration of “Jesus Christ is Lord” is fundamentally incompatible with the secular politics, where Caesar is lord.

This essay has the distinction in this collection of making the most frequent use of scripture, with Ephesians and Philippians being cited in support of Jesus’ lordship over all earthly political powers and Christians’ heavenly citizenship.  Sumantri understands earthly politics as a form of the “grasping” for power which Jesus eschewed.  In this he is arguing that non-voting should be a Christian norm.

I appreciate that Sumantri seeks to argue against voting in totality (given that most of the essays in this collection understand voting subjectively), based on the nature of being a follower of Christ.  I am also sympathetic to the notion of Christian sojourning in a political context.  Pilgrims do not vote.  I myself am not sure that voting is a violation of allegiance, however.  Nor am I sure what Sumantri does with the state (as described in Romans 13) in light of his position.  At the very least, Sumantri’s argument can be understood as an argument against democracy, but it brushes close to anarchism, which I cannot accept.  Still, I personally do not often contemplate what being a citizen of heaven means for my earthly citizenship.  It could be that non-voting might be a proper expression of that truth.

This is the seventh in my series of interactions with the essays collected in Electing Not to Vote: Christian Reflections on Reasons for Not Voting. Paul Alexander provides an essay entitled “Voting With Our Lives: Ongoing Conversations Along the Path Pentecostal Faithfulness.”

Alexander opens his essay with the following questions:

So, is voting a legitimate strategy for faithful Christians to use to witness to the kingship of God?  Is voting a legitimate strategy to help redeem the world right here and now where people are really suffering . . . ?  Is voting a legitimate strategy to reduce sin and violence, to increase the peace, and to glorify God - to be the church we’re called to be? (81)

My initial reaction is to answer that voting may not be a good means of achieving those ends.  However, I do not think that voting’s utility is limited to witnessing to the lordship of Jesus and redeeming the world.  Voting might achieve the end of being better neighbors εν πολει ανθρωπου (in the City of Man), for example.  Alexander concludes that it is a subjective judgment, resting ultimately on how one understands voting.

The essay continues with some deconstruction of the concept of voting.  “We vote every day.”  Namely, he looks for what it is about political elections which is any different than the many other types of choices we make day in and day out.  One significant difference he notes is that one’s selection of Pepsi over Coke is unlikely to be enforced by violence, whereas national-political very well may be.  Depending on one’s views on non-violence, this could certainly make voting a questionable activity.  However, Alexander concludes that a proper understanding of voting is only a partial solution.  It must be accompanied by a proper ecclesiology.

Here Alexander turns to the early roots of Pentecostalism, which were largely nonviolent.  As someone who grew up in a branch of the Pentecostal movement (Foursquare), this was news to me.  This included condemnations of “immoderate patriotism” and “national sectarianism.”  The historical sketches alone make this essay worth reading.  The major thrust is that Pentecostals understood that undue allegiance to state made prophetic witness impossible.

Alexander notes that voting for someone who would lead in a manner contrary to Christ’s teaching would be “less than total allegiance to the king of kings.”  He ultimately recommends “voting with our lives” as a more constructive form of political engagement than visiting the ballot box.  I am not sure I agree with Alexander’s understanding of allegiance being compromised by voting, but I can understand where he is coming from.  I also agree that voting is a poor (the worst?) form of political engagement, but I am not sure if that justifies the exclusion of voting on Christian grounds.  My overall impression of the essay is positive.  It was good to hear about Pentecostals who, as a result of their preaching against nationalism, had files opened at the FBI and War Department.

As a tangential issue, I find it interesting how many historical Christian movements in the US have tended away from non-voting, nonviolence, and pacifism in order to embrace the status quo of nationalism in the last century.  It is a recurring theme in this collection.  For some reason, these positions seem to be very difficult to maintain faithfully.  Given the great surge of nationalism in this nation in that time frame, I am not surprised.

This is the sixth in my series of interactions with the essays collected in Electing Not to Vote: Christian Reflections on Reasons for Not Voting. Todd David Whitmore provides an essay entitled “When the Lesser Evil is Not Good Enough: The Catholic Case for Not Voting.”

Whitmore opens by describing the general Catholic teaching on the subject.  Voting is a duty (not only a right) which grows out of our responsibility as Christians to work for the common good in our societies.  Therefore Vatican II and the meeting of the American Catholic bishops in 2003 affirm that Catholics, as a rule, should vote as a part of their responsible citizenship.  Whitmore finds this duty problematic, however, and he wonders:

What is a “faithful citizen” to do if all the viable candidates in a particular election are not simply wrong on this or that policy but are so egregiously in error from a moral as well as political standpoint that one cannot in good conscience vote for any of them? (64)

I am intrigued by his inclusion of the term “viable” here.  There is nothing about a candidate which intrinsically makes him or her viable (except perhaps ballot access).  I believe that a good showing by “third party” candidates would have a positive effect on the electoral process in the US.  The lack of consideration of third-party candidates is a weakness both in this essay and in the collection altogether.

Whitmore’s basic thesis is that sometimes the common good (i.e. the Christian’s civic duty) is better served by choosing not to vote for principled reasons.  From here he goes on the describe why he could not conscionably vote in 2004 because of problems with both President Bush and Senator Kerry.

Whitmore indicts Bush both for the war against Iraq and for domestic economic policies.  His basic criticism on Iraq is that the war violates virtually every tenet of classic Catholic “just war” tradition regarding entering a war.  I whole-heartedly agree.  Dressing up a preventative war (or plain old invasion) as a “just war” strains credulity to the breaking point.  On the economic front, Whitmore argues that Bush’s tax policies are unjust, because an increase of worker productivity during his presidency has not been met with an increase in wealth for the middle class, but instead an increase of wealth for corporations and the very rich.  I personally less concerned with economic policies, but Whitmore makes an interesting point.

Against Kerry, Whitmore brings charges of being just as bad on the war, supporting abortion, and changing his positions for political advantage (the “flip-flop”).  Kerry did, in fact, vote to authorize military action in Iraq, but later recounted on the basis of having been deceived by bad evidence.  Just war, however, does not allow for the Iraq war even in the case of Weapons of Mass Destruction (or whatever the justification of the day may be).  On abortion, Kerry held the incredibly problematic position that he thought abortion was morally wrong personally, but he did not think it should be illegal.  This is especially disconcerting since he believes life begins at conception!  At any rate, these two issues and Kerry’s waffling on them were enough to disqualify him in Whitmore’s estimation (and I agree).

Acknowledging that no candidate is likely to pass Catholic muster, Whitmore proposes a rubric for deciding when not to vote: “is the distance between Catholic teaching and the candidate nearest to it greater than the distance between the candidates?”  If yes, then it may be appropriate to not vote.  Understanding “distance” is complicated in my estimation, but I am sympathetic to his point.  Sometimes the candidates differ slightly from each other (e.g. on war) but differ greatly from Christian tradition.

Whitmore also complains about the Electoral College.  Once again, I must note that most people have a misplaced disdain for the EC.  If one does not like how a state apportions its electors, one should take it up with the state legislature.  If one does not like the idea of electors, one should push for a change in electoral law.  At any rate, I do not think the electoral college is a sufficient reason to not vote, at least from a Christian perspective.  One could perhaps abstain from voting out of a desire that one’s state would abolish the popular vote in favor of some alternative form of apportionment (that is another story, though).

Whitmore concludes that the decision to not vote based on Christian principles must be evaluated each election.  Voting, as he noted at the outset, is ideally a Christian duty.  This is also his justification for not considering write-ins or third-parties, who have little viability at the moment, though that may change in the future.  Here I have the question the underlying assumption that one must vote only for a candiate who can win.  I think a principled, public vote for someone who has a very small chance of winning (and perhaps is only on the ballot in a few states) can have just as much or more meaning as a non-vote.

Ultimately I agree with Whitmore’s primary point: sometimes there will be no acceptable candidates from the standpoint of Christian teaching.  That has no doubt been true many times (this of course depends on one’s stream within Christian teaching - many evangelicals had no problem with Bush).  This however leads to another question (which I hope to explore later): what is the ethical meaning of voting?  By voting for someone, am I necessarily endorsing that person’s positions?  Or can I vote for whatever reasons I choose (for instance, to show my anger over how someone voted on the war or the bailout)?  That is an important consideration.

This is the fifth in my series of interactions with the essays collected in Electing Not to Vote: Christian Reflections on Reasons for Not Voting. Michael Degan provides an essay entitled “Electing Not to Vote: Whether Choosing Red or Blue, Politics Is Love of Mammon.”

Degan’s approaches the issue of voting subjectively.  That is, he examines the issue mostly in terms of how the political process affects individuals.  He opens with the following question:

Was the vision of God’s kingdom for which I was ostensibly working, hoping, and praying - and voting - honored by participating in a political culture that seemed to bring out the worst in me; that lead me to demonize those on the other side of my views; that caused me to think, feel, an sometimes act, in a word, unchristianly? (50)

Therefore it seems Degan’s critique is particular to certain political climates, as exemplified by the 2004 presidential election in the US.  The essay first examines the Mennonite principle of nonparticipation in government.  This has been largely abandoned within Mennonite communities, however, and too many Christians have subscribed to the “red/blue divide.”  Also, Degan fears that Christians might see the state as the means establishing God’s kingdom, that the great commission has been “reduced to merely putting like-minded Christians in charge of everything.” (52)

Degan proposes a twofold justification for not voting within the Anabaptist tradition: two-kingdom theology and nonresistance.  As I have noted before, I find the concept of Christian nonparticipation in government incredibly problematic.  If the governments are ordained, and if we are called to pray for our leaders, how could government service be unacceptable?  With regard to nonresistance, it echoes an argument John D. Roth made in the first chapter of this collection: if you think violence is unacceptable, you can hardly commission someone (namely the US President - the Commander-in-Chief of the armed forces) to do that on your behalf.

Degan moves on from here to once again discuss how voting had an adverse effect on him.  He also laments the problems with gerrymandering and other flaws in the American electoral process.  In this the essay becomes a bit muddled.  On the one hand, he makes a theological point that Christians should not vote.  On the other, he talks about his subjective experience, some particular problems with voting in the US, and the fact that political participation can consume too much of a Christian’s energy, none of which have anything to do with whether or not Christians should be voting in principle.  Indeed, he closes the essay by admiting there is nothing intrinsically wrong with voting, which makes me wonder why he spent so many words explaining the Mennonite traditions.

I think there is another approach to voting which Degan has not considered.  In his description, voting forces people to not love their enemies.  The way I see it, enemy-hating is something that each person brings to the vote.  That unruly passions are brought to bear on the vote, and that these passions lead to sin, is not a necessary part of the voting process.  I believe that Christians can vote dispassionately.  That is, they can make an informed decision based on the issues while still loving their opponents.  One can vote for A or B, or abstain, and do it with a clear conscience.  However, the same clear conscience tells us that voting may be more a matter of personal preference than right and wrong.  Dispassionate voting is becoming the basis for my understanding of Christian participation in democratic politics.