A Pragmatic Vision: Democracy and Tradition Review
It certainly took me a long time, but I finally finished reading Jeffrey Stout’s political, theological, and philosophical tome, Democracy and Tradition. In the work, Stout sets out to defend a pragmatic approach to building a democratic society that takes seriously each citizen’s right to reach decisions via whatever means or commitments they deem important as well as all citizens’ responsibility to offer reasons to others for their conclusions. Democracy happens in the confluence of peoples’ beliefs and reason-giving. For Stout, democratic pragmatism is not merely a label that best describes how we interact with people who hold different ideals and beliefs than us, but it is a tradition in and of itself that deserves thought, defense, and promotion. America is in danger, he warns us, if the citizens of the United States do not take seriously the fact that we are all in this thing called democracy together. Stout, a self-labeled atheist, shows great appreciation for religions and religious people and articulately defends their right to use religious reasoning to shape their beliefs and ethics. (I reflected on some of the book earlier here.)
Stout critically engages liberal secularists like John Rawls on the one hand and the New Traditionalists within Christianity like Stanley Hauerwas and Alistair MacIntyre on the other as holding positions that do not help democracy. Though his two main interlocutors see each other as opposites, Stout points out that they actually share very similar views of what democracy actually is. His main argument against the liberal secularists is that we cannot guard the public square with rigid demands of what counts as reasonable data for democratic decision-making. The social contract theory of Rawls does not accurately describe how democracy has functioned, nor does it offer a hopeful vision for a pluralistic society in that it seeks to keep religious reasoning either out of the discussion altogether, or to be seen as weaker evidence. For those who say religion should not be involved in democratic reasoning, Stout not only says that ideal is unrealistic given the passion people have for their religions—how does one cast aside their deepest commitments that shape their ethics and values?—but he also says it is inherently undemocratic to do so. American democracy has benefited largely from religious reasoning—he cites the abolitionist sermons of the 19th century, Abraham Lincoln’s second inaugural address, and Martin Luther King’s speeches and sermons as high points in both religious and democratic thinking in America.
As seen above, Stout agrees with many of the New Traditionalists’ critiques of the social contract theory. He thinks, however, that the New Traditionalists have bought the line that this theory encapsulates modernity, pluaralism, secularism, and democracy. The New Traditionalists see democracy as a child of modernity that emphasized the individual over and often against community. They do not see how this system can engender virtues or community and thus it can hardly be described as a tradition in a classical sense. By its nature, democracy leads us towards an atomized society, they argue. They wonder if it is in their tradition’s (i.e., Christianity’s) best interest to continue to participate in democracy given the negative affects that system has had on their community (i.e., the Church). Stout pushes back against the New Traditionalists by saying democracy, which for better or worse, is our society’s system of organization, is not made better when groups of its citizens, whether they are Christians or Black Nationalists, decide to remove themselves from it. Nor are those other traditions improved by interacting only with others in their enclave. Again, he cites the religious reasoning of Lincoln, King, and the abolitionists to show religion’s positive impact on democratic thinking.
Stout’s pragmatism does not espouse a transcendental form of democracy. Instead, he sees democracy embodied among people full of actual history. Similarly, this pragmatism does not gloss over the obvious as well as subtle failures of American democracy (e.g., slavery, glass ceilings in workplaces) to embody the vision it set for itself. Unlike some critics of democracy, Stout does not view these gross errors as evidence that the system is bankrupt. Neither does he agree with some proponents of American democracy who say that these errors are merely blemishes on an otherwise beneficent record. Rather, Stout sees the democratic ability to seriously critique its norms and ultimately reform as a part of the democratic tradition. And democracy is a tradition he argues because it has its antecedents, it agrees to certain norms, and, when seen rightly, it shapes the character of its citizens.
Stout’s pragmatism leads to very basic definitions of democratic reasoning, tradition, and community. For example, Stout writes, “A community is a group that holds something in common.” (300) These definitions are almost too simple by design because Stout wants to include as many groups as possible if they want to engage in reason-giving and decision-making. He spends a good portion of the book arguing that we can achieve values in our democratic society and we had better do so together given the challenges we face from terrorism and our responses to it. As Stout says in a lecture elsewhere, “Shall we in the West insist on surviving as democratic republics, or insist merely on surviving?”
Stout, an atheist wants to argue that we can have truth and ethics without metaphysics. I think he’s right that we can have ethics without metaphysics in the pejorative sense (his term), meaning we determine what is good, then place that trait on some metaphysical entity, and then use that metaphysical entity as the criterion for goodness. But I agree with Nicholas Wolterstorff (whom Stout uses against the New Traditionalists) in my belief that any argument of ethics and truth that does not lead back to God will ultimately fail. (That’s just my tradition speaking.)
Stout offers strong arguments against the enclave temptation any sub-group will face within a democracy—whether that sub-group be identified by religious, business, race, political, or economic markers. He believes firmly that one can embrace the fullness of their identity so long as that identity does not separate them entirely from their neighbors. For this, he contrasts the works of Ralph Ellison to the speeches of the leaders of the Nation of Islam. Ellison deeply explores matters of race and what it means to be African-American, but he does not separate himself from the democratic community, unlike the separatist speeches and writings of Elijah Muhammad and Louis Faffakhan.
Given that Stout is a religious studies professor at Princeton, I found some of his assertions of religion in America rather strange. He often puts thinkers like Hauerwas in the same boat as the Religious Right since, he argues, they both tend toward a Christian enclave. Perhaps the Religious Right of thirty or forty years ago, but few could imagine the Religious Right of the last two decades questioning whether Christians should engage in politics. Hauerwas sees democracy as driving communities apart and wonders if democratic engagement has been more harmful for the Church in the long run. The Religious Right has decided to engage in electoral politics almost by brute force. I don’t see engagement with others who think differently, just voter drives to get more of their constituency to the polls in order to enact their vision. The similarities are that neither group seems to fully appreciate the imperfect pluralistic reality of America and there may be some large dissatisfactions with how democracy in America has turned out. Still, I think that their differences are more a matter of kind and not degree, particularly when one considers the Religious Right’s and Hauerwas’ different views on the military and violence. Nor is his “benign history” of the rise of secularism all that convincing. He describes secularism as a natural outcome of religious wars in Europe when different warring groups had to ask themselves, how do we live with people who believe differently than we do? Stout’s history does not take into account the rise of the vision that religion is inherently unreasonable, nor does it explain anti-religious statements of Enlightenment thinkers like Diderot, that proclaim, “I would like the last of the kings to be strangled by the guts of the last priest.”
There are also times in the book where it is difficult to see where Stout lands on an issue. In discussing the citizen’s responsibility to the nation, he agrees with Hauerwas that “the call to sacrifice oneself for one’s country today sounds a lot ‘like being asked to die for the telephone company’” (297) if by country we mean the bureaucracy of the United States. If by nation and country, we mean the people of America, then Stout sees the call to sacrifice as valid given the right circumstances. This view, however, seems undercut in his conclusion when he writes, “The kind of community that democrats should be promoting at the local, state, and national levels of politics is the kind that involves shared commitment to the Constitution and the culture of democracy.” (303) On the one hand, we aren’t called to sacrifice for the bureaucracy of the state, but on the other hand, we are called to commit to the Constitution, the document that establishes that bureaucracy?
The book works with theological, political, and philosophical concepts. It’s no surprise I was most at home in the theological discussion and found the philosophical and political discussions went over my head at times. I am curious how those trained in these other fields would engage the work. For my part, I found the discussions of epistemology almost too dense.
In the full measure, I found Democracy and Tradition to be a helpful book and it espouses a vision of democracy that I believe can reap fruit from the best of all the traditions and cultures of its citizens. I think Stout’s pragmatism is fairly accurate in its description of how we actually live our lives and make decisions with our neighbors regarding ethics and norms. For this Christian, I see Stout’s arguments against secular liberals especially helpful. I find hope in his vision of democracy as one where all can meet in the public square, being honest about their commitments and values, and reason together in order to make a better society. I find it sobering, however, that Stout has to go back to 19th and early 20th century thinkers like Emerson, Thoreau, and Whitman to build his tradition. This pragmatism needs a shot in the arm at best if it is to hold sway with contractarians or New Traditionalists. Also, I believe that while the New Traditionalists are growing in their influence in seminaries, I don’t think they are as influential as Stout claims. Many of the fastest growing seminaries and churches in America are of religious and political persuasions whose views would contrast significantly with Hauerwas’ critiques of American culture. Stout does take democracy’s and liberalism’s emphasis on the individual as a good given, but I share the concerns of Hauerwas and others that this could easily lead to atomization and given what I see in America today, I fear that atomization is winning. Therefore, I can share the New Traditionalists’ criticisms of democracy if this social contract model is what most mean when they speak of democracy. That is to say, perhaps it is time to give this pragmatic approach more thought.
Speaking as a Christian, I believe that Stout has put the ball in my faith community’s court. How are we to take our commitments and allegiance to the kingdom of God seriously in a democratic society? I believe that the New Traditionalists have raised important questions and criticisms of democracy and modernism and their affects on the Church’s witness. Can or should we engage in democracy? If so, how should we go about forming positions in a society where others do not agree with our deepest beliefs? What role should our faith play in our reasoning and how do we communicate that reasoning to people who do not share our faith?


The book sounds fascinating and helpful.
A couple of thoughts/responses to get the ball rolling.
I think the issue of how Christian people—or even religious people in general—should deal with modern democracy is very related to two other important questions; how do people of faith deal with modern science, and how do people of faith deal with modern capitalism? Seems to me that modern democracy, modern science, and modern capitalism are the three great intellectual/institutional products of the Enlightenment, though certainly some of the building blocks of all three can be found in traditional western Christian culture and in pagan antecedents. All of them, more or less, are built on the same philosophical foundations and worldview.
All three bring wonderful benefits and all three (should?) create major difficulties for people of faith in terms of values, practice and meaning.
Seems like evangelicals have made the most positive practical progress in actually grappling with modern science, even though the ‘enclave’ mentality has more recently arisen strongly as many Christians segregate themselves into creationist ghettos. Still, seems to me that most evangelicals have come to accept not just the results but also the methodology of science, as long as scientists retain their discipline and humility and don’t seek to address issues of deeper meaning that go beyond the purview of science and remain open to the ethical influence of religious people.
As you say, I think evangelicals right now are pretty confused about what to do with politics, so the book and this discussion are timely.
The most striking lack of discussion—to me—is about how to deal with modern capitalism. If anything, capitalism has been a far stronger force for atomization and the overemphasis on the individual , and a much more potent destructive force in diluting traditional communal ethics and values than has modern democracy. In fact, I don’t think you can analyze how Christians should respond to modern democracy without grappling deeply with modern capitalism—at least in most of the west, the two are inseparable and I believe capitalism now drives and shapes modern democracy far more than modern democracy shapes capitalism. Many, including myself, think capitalism is diluting real democracy. Where are the counterparts of the New Traditionalists or people like Stout who will take on how Christians are to deal with capitalism? I look forward to reading Stout to see what he has to say about the confluence of power (democracy) and money (capitalism). Seems like evangelicals—more than ever—need a sophisticated theology of money and power which can be applied to modern forms of democracy and capitalism.
Re your concluding questions, I look forward to hearing what folks think. A brief contribution to answering how Christians should respond.
I believe Christians can choose to engage in formal democratic politics or choose not to engage in it. Both are legitimate options. I think the more important issue is how Christians regard the importance of formal human politics in the overall scheme of the Kingdom, whether they choose to participate at a particular time or not.
For me, formal politics can offer a way to do practical good for neighbor, though the capacity to do that good varies from place to place and time to time depending on a variety of circumstances. On the other hand, the gospel deeply ‘relativizes’ all politics and all political ‘positions.’ In one sense, no matter how much a Christian thinks his or her views are ‘right and just,’ we’ve got to recognize that God’s working powerfully for the good in many ways beyond formal politics, that God’s view of the long term good and path to reaching it may be quite different than any temporary human idea of the good and how to get there, and that no matter how ‘right’ we may be re a particular policy, the people holding that ‘right view’ are fallen and self-justifying sinners.
I think that means that people who choose not to engage in formal politics have got to recognize that a lot of good can be done by engaging, at least in some circumstances. If they choose not to engage, they should explain it in terms of a sense that they don’t believe the timing is right, or that they believe they can exercise a more potent form of ‘politics’ and persuasion by creating life giving models of values and community while leaving the direct political engagement to others. And those that do engage have got to have a little humility and a much more ‘ironic’ sense about their ‘rightness’ than we sometimes do.
Unfortunately, the extreme enclave types often refuse to recognize that a lot of practical good and even real advances in relative forms of justice can be had by participating, while the ‘engaged’ are often full of arrogant forms of passionate, idolatrous and partisan intensity that are inappropriate for Christians in the public square. The religious right has been a poster movement for the latter problem, but I don’t think a ‘religious left’ operating with the same lack of humility would be any improvement even if I personally think their policies would be a lot better.
I agree with you that if Christians do seek to participate in the formal democratic process, actually engaging in discussion with those who differ and making a strong effort to translate specific Christian values and ideas into language that can be shared and understood by everybody in the mix is the way to go. Certainly, Dr. King did a brilliant job of both. Religious jargon and inflexible policy positions that ignore those that differ allied with turning out legions of ‘Christian political foot soldiers’ may be a recipe for some short term political success, but I think it’s a losing approach over the intermediate and long term.
Comment by Tom Pratt — June 18, 2008 @ 7:16 pm
The New Traditionalists have a general critique of modernity and the Enlightenment and from what I’ve read from Hauerwas, he does take aim at some of capitalism’s negative effects on the Church. But those critiques have been wrapped up in the critique of modernity as a whole.
Stout doesn’t spend much time on the scientific or economic aspects of modernity since he wants to focus on the theory of democracy. When he does discuss economics, he expresses a general concern of business (particularly multinational business) and the wealthy having more than their fair share of influence in democratic societies. He says we need robust and healthy democratic engagement from all social classes in order to keep democracy from sliding into an oligarchy—he relates this engagement to democracy’s ability to shape good character. So his concern is not so much capitalism’s atomizing influence, but that the wealthy and powerful would be able to rig “the electoral system to favor the wealthy and powerful.” (22) He doesn’t spend much time on this issue. I agree with you that capitalism and democracy have been wedded, but that wasn’t always the case. As the U.S. turned from an agrarian/yeoman economy to a capitalistic one, there was a large debate of whether this was a good move. It was one of the original debates between Republicans and Democrats. Republicans believed in strong central banks that could make loans to smaller businesses and fund internal improvements whereas Democrats (following Andrew Jackson’s influence) rejected central banks and internal improvements as too much government intervention. But I digress.
I would agree with you that our economics seem to shape our politics more than the other way around. I also think your statement that we need to recognize that practical good can come from political engagement can also be applied to capitalistic engagement. Capitalism seems amoral to me and needs an ethical rudder. I mean amoral in the sense that it encourages people to make decisions based on self-interest, even if those decisions are what we would describe as good. I believe that capitalism has the ability to generate more capital and fuel helpful innovation (e.g., vaccines) and these can be good things with moral direction. I think of microfinance as a positive example of capitalism with a moral rudder. But, I don’t hear much about ethics coming from Wall Street except when we see scandals like Enron.
I agree that not engaging in politics is just as legitimate a Christian position as engaging. Both positions need real discussions and defenses, in my opinion. I worry that choosing not to engage often comes across as a demand for perfection and piety at the expense of opportunities to make concrete change. I think I’m with Stout that our larger community isn’t helped much when sectors of its citizens choose to opt out. On the other hand, Christians who choose to engage best remember the relativization of politics you mention, and they better engage with great humility.
Comment by Tyler Watson — June 27, 2008 @ 7:53 am
I’m a big fan of capitalism as a useful tool. One of the best ideas ever to help alleviate poverty.
But when tools become objects of religious devotion you’ve got a problem.
Lots of Americans have got the fever but I’d argue that particular sickness tends toward the right wing right now. Conservative Christians seem to have lost the ability to critique it and many seem to have gone to bed with the worst of it.
From my point of view, we’ve already basically got an economic and political oligarchy. The real work, in my mind, is to move from oligarchy toward a more honest democracy. Democracy is only a few hundred years old in the world. Obviously, we haven’t gotten the hang of it yet.
I appreciate why people like Hauerwas feel that current versions of democracy hurt authentic expressions of Christian faith. The church—at least as biblically described—doesn’t seem to be a democracy. I wouldn’t describe it as an ethical and spiritual dictatorship, but certainly it seems much more like a tribal village where ‘elders’ rule. Not surprising given the fact that the New Testament world was a tribal world.
Re political involvement, I think people who opt out can be at the heart of change, as counter-intuitive as that may sound.
I’m a late arrival on the active formal political scene. I was a convert to formal political involvement in my mid forties because of the disturbing confluence of ‘Christian faith’ and weird versions of right wing conservative politics in the US.
I have mixed feelings about that conversion, but sometimes you’ve got to speak up.
Groups that make the biggest political change over the long haul may be people who refuse to play the game while creating their own values, leadership and communities.
The early Christian community, the Franciscans, the Quakers and Anabaptists, the Solidarity movement in Poland, the early African National Congress in South Africa, the early labor movement in the US, among many, many others, understood that creating an alternative ‘reality’ was the first step toward real change.
In one sense, I think opting out is the heart of constructive change. Institutions, who are the product of alternative communities, usually have long forgotten their roots and fearfully—and often violently—defend their turf. And sadly, alternative communities—out of their own kind of fear—sometimes refuse to allow their creative reality to go mainstream and get caught in a weird historical backwash.
I think it’s more complicated than ‘opting in’ or ‘opting out’ from a political point of view.
If folks ‘opting in’ or folks ‘opting out’ aren’t willing to get beyond their fears and their desire for control, and if they aren’t willing to work for the good of everybody, well, there’s a problem.
Comment by Tom — June 28, 2008 @ 10:48 pm