“One of history's most dangerous games begins with dividing the world into the good guys and the bad guys and ends with using any means necessary to take the villains out.” – Stephen Prothero
This is a follow up on last week’s post in which I spoke about how moral relativism, particularly in the inverted world of today’s activism, can become dangerous. Like the previous post, this one might be controversial, but I need to call things for what they are. I ask for your grace.
The other day I had a disturbing encounter with someone who, as a proud identity-marker, calls themselves “An Activist.” They work tirelessly for the rights of LGBTQ+ and Trans folx, Black Lives, Women, Migrants, and most recently, joined the fray for Palestinian Liberation. They attend protests, donate to organizations, post daily on social media, and consider it their purpose to make the world conform to a vision of a just world. I am largely supportive of their work, agree with their call for a more humane world, and appreciate their passion for their causes, even if I don’t always agree with the particular ways they go about their work.
However, during an impassioned exchange about an issue in which I have a personal stake and about which we disagree, they refused to listen as I shared my perspective and offered other ways of viewing the situation, turned the conversation into a (perceived) attack, and finally declared that I was clearly not an intelligent or compassionate person and needed mental health counseling. They then went on to say they had taken enough “abuse,” would no longer speak to me unless and until I received professional help, and, as their final words, yelled, “I hope you go to Hell.”
I was shaken by the exchange, and admit that I could have communicated certain things less directly, but the most painful thing was that I saw someone I generally respect and admire, veer off into a form of almost religious fundamentalism in which no alternative views are allowed and anyone who doesn’t agree with their narrow perspective of the world is deemed a heretic, mentally ill, or just Evil, and, therefore, deserves to suffer. It saddened me deeply, and for a moment, I actually started to worry about their mental health, too.
But even more heartbreaking was that I realized this person wasn’t alone. There are many, many people – on all sides -- who have taken their socio/political beliefs and activist behaviors to a level of orthodoxy that truly scares me. They may not be talking about God, but they are acting as if they are. And, in some cases, taking on the worst aspect of religion: Holy War.
While every religious and faith tradition has a vision of a better world, and exhorts its followers to strive towards that, it’s very easy for that vision to turn into a tyrannical one, in which any unbelievers are deemed wicked and must be eliminated. It’s called Fundamentalism and appears especially, and most destructively, within the Abrahamic faiths and leads to things like the Crusades, Jihad, Inquisition, and other Holy Wars.
Prophets and teachers from these traditions (and others) often admonished followers (and their political leaders) to turn away from things like crime, greed, and licentiousness towards their “better natures” or, heed their religious teachings to Tikkun Olam, repair the world, or bring about the Messiah or Kingdom of God. In some cases, they warned that the consequences of not doing so would be disastrous (and often were right). But by and large, they didn’t make overhaul of the entire social/political/economic order their sole mission (Though in some periods--The Reformation comes to mind, – the lines got pretty blurry).
That’s not true today. These days, our pulpits in many faiths are filled with preachers calling for Holy War against socio/political infidels of one kind or another, declaring war on “wokeness,” calling for bans and boycotts, and celebrating or condemning world leaders, other faiths, or movements. Even our political leaders are declaring their own form of activism in plainly Messianic language: God has a vision, and it is their job/mission/anointment to carry it out faithfully. Anyone in the way is expendable.
Meanwhile, on the streets of our cities and online, many activists are couching their demands in religious terms with no less righteousness and fervor. Ideologies have become The Sacred, humans become the sole agents of change, doctrine is found in Internet memes or in classrooms, and anything that contradicts or challenges them is blasphemous: Trumpers are Evil, Racists are Evil, Zionists are Evil, Capitalism is Evil, oil companies are Evil, Abortion is Evil, Trans People are Evil, etc., and they all deserve to go to hell or worse.
Whether we are talking the religious or the secular, this is a battle between Good and Evil, Light and Dark. The Apocalypse is coming, and if you aren’t on the right side (their side), you will be struck down: boycotted, voted out, banned, harassed, harmed, called out, condemned, imprisoned, deported, or even killed. Today, what you believe – or don’t - could put you on the road to Damnation, and remaking the world in one’s own image (as opposed to the Divine’s) is the ultimate holy goal.
Though we have had distinct periods and personalities in history that have placed social activism within a religious framework, this shift is of a different order. First, today, it’s rarely couched within or derived from actual religion, and its leaders aren’t religious leaders, especially on the Left (unless tokenized). Instead, social, political and economic ideologies and their leaders, texts, and rituals have been substituted for religion, but it’s basically the same thing: a system of beliefs held holy above others.
On the Right, activism might come from religious leaders and beliefs, but those leaders and teachings are often deeply, dangerously involved in politics and use religious language in ways it was never meant. Our politicians wield religious beliefs to justify power or pursuit, and the language of war takes on religious tones.
In many ways, the secular had to adopt the fervor and techniques of the religious in order to be heard, however, both have a developed a particularly nasty flavor of messianic zeal that has become more pronounced as the world – and our definitions of justice and empathy – swings to the extremes.
In a recent article for the NYT, Michael Ventura, author of Applied Empathy, described the dark side of empathy, the moral capacity that fuels – or should fuel – activism, whether religiously based, or not. Ventura says that while empathy is one of the primary ways we express our humanity, it can also be misused. Though he was pointing out that compassion and empathy (or the appearance of it) can be used by people to exploit, especially in the business or political world, he also explored how, without a clear sense of ethics or accountability, it can very easily turn into a weapon. It can, in his words, become “coercion with a smile.” Or, in my words, “activism without accountability.”
This is what I am seeing in the “religious” world of Social Activism, and what my friend, “The Activist,” used against me: empathy as weapon. If you don’t fully agree with the protestors, you clearly lack empathy for the people or causes they are championing. They, the Activists, are the compassionate ones, and you are a psychopathic monster identified with those who are harming the subjects of empathy. In other words, the protestors and the victims are the righteous and deserve empathy, and you and the perpetrators are the wicked, and don’t deserve empathy. There must, accordingly, be something mentally, morally, intellectually or spiritually- fundamentally- wrong with you, and therefore, you are condemned.
In this twisted moral universe, empathy for one group of people demands a lack of empathy for others. And the worst part, is that in some cases, that’s considered OK. The righteous are justified in whatever they do to the wicked: they deserve it because they lack empathy and are thus, inhuman. “By Any Means Necessary” means anything we do is justified because we are wearing the White Hats. People are free to believe what they want, but when belief becomes action, we run far afoul of the original intent.
This is how we get violence at protests, cancel culture, doxxing, or other forms of dehumanization and demonization, conspiracy theories, assassination attempts, and bomb threats. You get politicians that declare that empathy of any kind is only for the weak. You get the silencing of moderate voices and the celebration of those who call for blood. Accountability for these actions is nowhere to be found, especially online. Eventually, if left unchecked, this kind of bloodlust becomes Civil War/Revolution/Overthrow and a new form of fascism in the name of social justice arises.
We aren’t far away from that.
A few years ago, when I was in Seminary, I was deeply disturbed when one of our new requirements for ordination was that we be engaged in “Sacred Activism,” defined as working publicly for social and political change for specific groups. We were told it was our Moral, Spiritual and Professional Duty. For many of us, that seemed to go against the purpose of seminary, which was to teach us about our traditions, deepen our own faith, and help us guide others into connection with the sacred. For some, it went against their personal or religious beliefs. But on a legal level, it went against our Constitution, which demands separation between Church and State, as well as our Tax Code, which makes it illegal to use religious institutions as PACs or activist fronts. You can talk about God or faith or injustice all you want, and you can start soup kitchens or thrift stores, but there are limits to what you can do from the pulpit when it comes to the political action realm.
Though it was eventually deleted as a requirement for ordination, the impulse behind it remained in the curriculum, and emphasized a specific form of social activism as spiritual righteousness. It was, in effect, declaring that only those who worked actively and publicly for a specific socio-political outcome were considered worthy of being spiritual leaders. Tell that to the Buddha, Abraham, or Jesus, or for that matter, most of the religious leaders of congregations large and small.
For me, that call was a blurring of the religious/political lines that evolved over the past century, primarily in Christianity, and which remains the dominant ethos in the West. Jesus taught compassion and mercy for the poor, and the Torah (upon which his teachings are based) stresses “Act Justly. Love Mercy. Walk Humbly” and to care for the stranger in your midst. But somewhere along the line, to be a “Good Christian” evolved from the personal commandment of “Love your neighbor as yourself” to a public vision of saintliness that required external action to support a social or political agenda.
Instead of Jesus, Mother Teresa or St. Francis as role models, we got MLK, Jr., Reggie Jackson and (evangelically) Billy Graham. In other religious traditions, we went from the Buddha to Thich Nhat Hanh, Saraswati to Gandhi, Moses to Abraham Joshua Heschel, all of whom were public activists using religion to make socio-political change (albeit non-violently).
In other words, care for the poor, oppressed or stranger went from being a practice of personal and religious moral development to an imperative to fight in the public arena for a specific vision of “justice” or “righteousness.” It was no longer enough to work on your own morality, care for those in your direct contact, or try to get closer to God; you had to make sure others were free from any moral failings (as defined by you or your tradition) and bring them to the light. You had to take on the whole world and make it conform to a specific vision of righteousness - yours. It’s a proselytizing demand – part of the Christian (and Muslim, and a small sect of radical Judaism) spreading of the Good Word – and, at its extreme, becomes a Holy War, in which those who don’t conform or convert are condemned. Physically, if necessary.
Outside of the religious arena, the non-religious world has, in some cases, adopted a similar view. To be “A Good Person” (or to be a good Pro- or Anti-whateverist) means more than working on yourself to be kind, generous or caring, or adhering to some set of ideological or vague spiritual beliefs; it means actively taking on the injustice in the world and turning it towards a specific vision of justice, your own – forcibly, if necessary. Those who don’t agree become enemies and must be condemned. If you’re not on our team, you’re the problem. Like the religious version, secular activism also has a proselytizing mission: the Unjust (wicked) must be converted to Just (righteous), or just eliminated. This is a secular Holy War, but no less religious in tone or intent.
I’m not condemning those who stand with the poor and oppressed in any way for whatever reason, religious or otherwise. We should all do what we can, as we can. And I’m not condemning activism as a tool for social or political change. We need those who stand firmly for rights of others in the face of injustice. Protest, itself, is not a problem.
But when we demand that everyone else do exactly as we do, believe as we do, or support us, and refuse to consider other perspectives, it becomes deeply problematic. When, in our efforts to create a better world for one group we deny the rights or humanity of others who may not agree, and condemn, cancel or coerce them, we actually do the opposite of creating a more just world. When we declare Holy War, utterly convinced our way is the only way and everyone else deserves Hell, we are creating Hell on earth. If we are unwilling to hear other voices, look at ourselves, check our own beliefs and put down our weapons, then we have no hope of bringing justice, love, and peace to the world.
Had my Activist friend not stormed off (and, as I soon discovered, blocked me on social media), I would have said, “Listen, I want a more just and beautiful world, too. I’m not your enemy. I see your pain. Can you see mine? I see your aspiration. Can you see mine? How can we work together, not against one another? How can we see the humanity and the Divinity in one another, even if we don’t agree? Can we build bridges, not barriers? Can we stop this Holy War before we destroy ourselves, each other, and our world?”
Maybe, one day, we will put down our weapons, whether they be of steel or sentences, flags or philosophies, and look at each other with empathy for all, not just some, and work to build a better world that doesn’t include Holy Wars.
I don’t often pray for specific things, but for this, I will.
Will you, too?
“If only we the genuine humans had the real guts, and sense of real responsibility to act as the holy warriors on our own original beliefs and principles, then we wouldn’t see any trace of terrorism in the world whatsoever, religious or otherwise.”
― Abhijit Naskar
Thank you so much Lauryn 🙏 💜 I appreciate you and your wisdom. I hope you have a wonderful week 🥰
Dear Lauryn, thank you for your truly honest and insightful writing. You are brave to be taking on such difficult subject matter. How activism can become fundamentalism is very frightening because it happens frequently with such disastrous results. I’m sorry you had to come face-to-face with this problem. When the desire to “do what’s right” leads to dehumanization - the wheel of suffering gains momentum. It is so, so sad. Contemplation, humility and true empathy seem to be in short supply. Do you have hope?