mccain and falwell

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McCain’s 'Argument Among Friends'
At Liberty University, the presidential candidate takes on Jerry Falwell with subtlety and grace



May 13, 2006 | McCain’s 'Argument Among Friends'
At Liberty University, the presidential candidate takes on Jerry Falwell with subtlety and grace.

It is commencement season, and one of the things that is beginning is the 2008 presidential race, which is among the reasons John McCain’s schedule of addresses is eclectic: the New School and Columbia in New York, Ohio State, and, most notably, today’s speech at Jerry Falwell’s Liberty University in Lynchburg, Va. “We have our disagreements, we Americans,” McCain told an audience of 10,000. “We contend regularly and enthusiastically over many questions: over the size and purposes of our government; over the social responsibilities we accept in accord with the dictates of our conscience and our faithfulness to the God we pray to; over our role in the world and how to defend our security interests and values in places where they are threatened. These are important questions; worth arguing about. We should contend over them with one another. It is more than appropriate, it is necessary that even in times of crisis, especially in times of crisis, we fight among ourselves for the things we believe in.”

The context of McCain’s remarks was the war in Iraq, but, given the setting-Falwell has long been a central figure in the political mobilization of religious conservatives-the subtext was inevitably how Americans of different faiths, or of no faith at all, can talk to each in the public square without having our politics descend into discord and dissension. The senator and his host know all about this first-hand: in 2000, at Virginia Beach, McCain referred to Falwell and Pat Robertson as “agents of intolerance.” The senator had it right then and the two evangelists continued to prove the point: in a televised exchange after September 11, 2001, Falwell told Robertson that “the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians … the ACLU, People for the American Way-all of them who have tried to secularize America …” were at least partly to blame for the attacks.

Running again for president, McCain is, in the words of the Associated Press reporter on the scene in Lynchburg, “looking to heal a rift with religious conservatives who undermined his 2000 White House bid.” And so there he was, at Falwell’s invitation, speaking his mind and accepting an honorary degree from Liberty. McCain’s many moderate admirers are more than a little horrified by the trip, but from a purely political point of view it is difficult to fault the senator: as he himself has noted, he is a Republican, and religious conservatives are part of the party. He cannot very well ignore such a force. To do so might be noble, but it would surely be quixotic, and I suspect McCain’s calculation is that, in this case, the end-becoming president and being able to make and mold history-justifies the means. George H. W. Bush did the same sort of thing in 1988; an amiable Episcopalian, Bush courted the religious right, and won. It was worth it to Bush then, and my guess is that it is worth it to McCain now.

Observers hoping for McCain to denounce or chastise Falwell under his own roof, so to speak, will be disappointed, but McCain’s remarks repay careful attention, for in fact he did take Falwell on-subtly, and, I think, ably, for subtlety is important in matters of faith and politics. The subject is so charged, so emotional, and so visceral, that minds are often not changed by direct attack but by engaging people with whom one disagrees in language and with imagery they find comfortable and familiar. At Liberty, McCain spoke of war, but the habit of heart he was urging upon his audience and upon the country is a habit that one could bring to any issue of consequence.

Speaking of Iraq, McCain said: “Should we lose this war, our defeat will further destabilize an already volatile and dangerous region, strengthen the threat of terrorism and unleash furies that will assail us for a very long time. I believe the benefits of success will justify the costs and risks we have incurred. But if an American feels the decision was unwise, then they should state their opposition, and argue for another course. It is your right and your obligation. I respect you for it. I would not respect you if you chose to ignore such an important responsibility. But I ask that you consider the possibility that I, too, am trying to meet my responsibilities, to follow my conscience, to do my duty as best I can, as God has given me the light to see that duty.” The last phrase is an evocative one, derived from Lincoln and MacArthur, and McCain’s own faith, it seems, is largely in the tradition of what MacArthur called “duty, honor, country.” (McCain is said to have left the Episcopal Church in which he was raised in part because he found it too stuffy.)

The crux of McCain’s Liberty argument: “Americans deserve more than tolerance from one another, we deserve each other’s respect, whether we think each other right or wrong in our views, as long as our character and our sincerity merit respect, and as long as we share, for all our differences, for all the noisy debates that enliven our politics, a mutual devotion to the sublime idea that this nation was conceived in-that freedom is the inalienable right of mankind, and in accord with laws of nature and nature’s Creator.” In this McCain touched on two critical American traditions. The first is that tolerance is different from liberty (James Madison fought this battle during the Revolutionary era), for tolerance implies that one’s freedom is contingent. Liberty, however, is permanent, and, as Jefferson said, “the God who gave us life gave us liberty at the same time.” And by speaking of freedom in terms of “the laws of nature and nature’s Creator,” McCain was grounding himself explicitly in the opening section of the Declaration of Independence, which argued that our fundamental human rights came from God, not from men, and were thus sacred and beyond the reach of any temporal power-including the right to believe or not believe as one chooses.

McCain’s call was for America to act like America: to argue about freedom, but to respect one another, to understand that we are all-even those with whom we completely disagree-made in the image and likeness of God and are thus entitled to equal dignity. The difference between a theocracy and a democratic republic like ours is that religion shapes the life of nation without controlling it. And we are no theocracy. “Let us argue with each other then,” McCain said. “By all means, let us argue. Our differences are not petty, they often involve cherished beliefs, and represent our best judgment about what is right for our country and humanity. Let us defend those beliefs. Let’s do so sincerely and strenuously. It is our right and duty to do so. And let’s not be too dismayed with the tenor and passion of our arguments, even when they wound us. We have fought among ourselves before in our history, over big things and small, with worse vitriol and bitterness than we experience today. … But let us remember, we are not enemies. We are compatriots defending ourselves from a real enemy. We have nothing to fear from each other. … It should remain an argument among friends; each of us struggling to hear our conscience, and heed its demands; each of us, despite our differences, united in our great cause, and respectful of the goodness in each other. I have not always heeded this injunction myself, and I regret it very much.” (Confession is always good for the soul, and usually good for politicians. My old editor and friend Charlie Peters likes to say that people are much more likely to heed a sermon from someone who admits their own sins, and McCain was smart to acknowledge his own weaknesses.)

One phrase from the speech stands out: an argument among friends. That is not a bad way of thinking about the country, a way of thinking that has ancient roots. The commandment to love one’s neighbor as oneself is found in Leviticus, and reading McCain’s remarks reminded me of a passage from John Adams-a passage that is, in the words of St. Augustine, ever old, ever new. “I hate polemical politics and polemical divinity,” Adams once said. “My religion is founded on the love of God and my neighbor; on the hope of pardon for my offenses; upon contrition; upon the duty as well as the necessity of [enduring] with patience the inevitable evils of life; in the duty of doing no wrong, but all the good I can, to the creation of which I am but an infinitesimal part.”

We will hear much more from John McCain and his rivals about God and politics and the world as the months go by. The Liberty speech has set a good and generous tone. Let us hope that sense and spirit survives the storm and strife ahead.



May 4, 2006