My last blog incited considerable reaction and feedback. I’m very grateful that so many of you engaged with me. It indicates that people haven’t simply succumbed to indifference. You definitely care about the election results and you care about truth based on evidence.
Of course, where we mine our evidence significantly impacts the conclusions we come to. And you who read my blog represent a broad spectrum of our citizenry. Quite obviously some readers are mining their data from quite different sources than I am. Although I don’t concur with the post-modern tenet that “all truth claims are power claims,” I must admit that the premise seems validated in the current social climate. Assertions about what is really going on in this election are bandied about like so many badminton shuttlecocks, each ferociously spiked with the confidence of absolute certainty. In the end, the conclusion one reaches depends upon which side of the court they prefer.
The vehemence with which someone asserts their opinion is by no means an indicator of its truthfulness. It is, however, very likely to be an indicator of the group to which they belong. I may be convinced of the truthfulness of certain “facts,” but convincing another person of my point of view will depend precious little upon my ability to articulate those facts in a cogent manner. That is especially true if I am an outsider to the group that defines their identity. The only chance for me to gain a hearing is if they perceive me as a likeable person and an honest broker.
In an over-saturated information society, accepted orthodoxy can change incredibly quickly. A few seeds of doubt, cunningly placed within a Tweet, can shake previously held beliefs that were considered rock solid (especially if the Tweet came from my side). A commitment to evidence based reasoning requires that people check sources and, just as important, refuse to pass along rumors. But that virtue is in short supply. Context matters and sound bites (or video clips) divorced from context can be distorted in order to imply all manner of untruth. That is why the character of those who govern is ultimately decisive.
Political parties coalesce around a set of policy initiatives that they prefer. Legislators and executives then try to implement those policies through the democratic process. The extent to which leaders are able to put them into action, however, is more dependent upon their personal character than it is upon the compelling logic of the platform. That is because the power of a platform does not reside in the words on paper, but in their implementation.
For example, much attention has been given to Harris’s flip-flop regarding fracking policy. Five years ago as a candidate for the Democratic nomination, Harris stated, “There’s no question I’m in favor of banning fracking.” But since her nomination in 2024, Harris contends, “As vice president, I did not ban fracking; as president, I will not ban fracking.” She argues that the policy plank has not changed, but that she now understands that it is not necessary to ban fracking and still wholeheartedly pursue a clean energy economy.
On the other hand, the Republican “law and order” platform proved to be quite malleable by Trump’s interpretation. Shortly after the assault on the law enforcement officers at the Capitol on January 6th, Trump described it as “a heinous attack” but tried to square the blame on purported infiltrators of the rally. After the original deflection proved to be untenable, Trump’s account of the day morphed into a “peaceful and patriotic” walk to the Capitol. Most recently in his Univision town hall interview, it emerged as “a day of love.” All the while, the party’s law and order platform plank supposedly remained unscathed.
These examples illustrate a key principle: The how is often more impactful than the what. If a party platform is wielded by leaders who lack solid ethical grounding, the temptation to appropriate “the end justifies the means” thinking will be difficult to resist. Lying, unfair deal-making, and demonizing the opponent are rationalized as legitimate means to an end. But a democratic system depends upon the ability of leaders to engage with those who disagree with them in order to reach constructive compromise. That can only happen if each side believes that the others are negotiating in good faith. Trustworthiness remains an essential element of that exchange. And the extent to which leaders bind themselves to the discipline of truth-telling depends upon their ability to place the interests of others before their own. This is a central tenet of Christian ethics –“not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.” It is also, according to Jesus, the first duty of leadership. “You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them … Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant.”
Years ago, Robert Greenleaf argued convincingly that the servant leader is not only a model for leadership within the Christian Church, but has broad applicability in the public sector, including politics. I was reminded of that fact when I read Tom Nichols’ fascinating essay in the November issue of The Atlantic. Nichols, a fine scholar of history who taught for years at the U.S. Naval War College, documents the essential elements of character that made George Washington’s presidency so remarkable and so foundational. Nichols then contrasts those character qualities with those that Trump manifests, particularly in respect to the result of the 2020 election. Nichols points to three pivotal qualities of our first president’s character.
First, Washington was committed to being a citizen, not a Caesar. Although Alexander Hamilton wrote that Washington became a figure “to whom the world is offering incense,” the General refused to accept special privileges that others wanted to bestow upon him. He expected the same of the soldiers who served in his army, insisting that they must conduct themselves as those who after the war would live side by side with the people they were now defending. He resisted their efforts to dispossess the population of food supplies even though it meant severe deprivation on the part of his troops.
In contrast, Nichols observes, Trump tried to treat the military as his own militia. He often publicly referred to “my generals” and was even prepared to turn their might against the American people, asking General Mark Milley to use force to disband protestors near the White House in 2020. “Beat the fuck out of them,” Trump instructed Milley. After leaving office Trump’s second Chief of Staff, John Kelly, described Trump as a “person that has no idea what America stands for and has no idea what America is all about.”
Second, George Washington was a man in command of himself. Nichols writes that “he was at times seized by vanity, anxiety, and private grievances. He was moody. His occasional burst of temper could be fearsome.” Nevertheless, he remained “keenly aware” of his own shortcomings. “He rarely allowed his pride to congeal into arrogance, nor his insecurities to curdle into self-pity.” His stoic character helped him to avoid the trap of unproductive public wrangling.
Trump, on the other hand, deliberately makes his grievances public. And he invites the public to be aggrieved along with him. An aggrieved public provides Trump with the opportunity to fill a role that uniquely suits him. “I am your retribution,” Trump has frequently proclaimed. I know this sounds snarky, but I think it fits: apparently Trump misidentified the one speaking in the Bible passage, “Vengeance is mine.”
Third, Nichols points out one of the most important lessons from Washington’s legacy. In the words of John Kelly, “He went home.” Washington resisted the pressure from without and from within to turn the president into a king. He willingly and graciously stepped down from office, a step that was without precedent in Washington’s world. He thus became a model and example for all the nations that would follow in the pathway of democracy and for every American president who would succeed him. Until number forty-five.
If a voter dismisses character as the most significant element in their choice, they choose to invest power in a person who does know how to wield it. The President of the United States does not merely (or even primarily) press a policy agenda based on a party platform. A president must respond to unexpected crises such as the COVID pandemic or the invasion of Ukraine or increasing ballistic missile launches from North Korea or an escalating war in the Middle East. The president plays a major role in setting the tone of the nation in moments of crisis. The president assists in bringing competing political parties together in order to pursue the common good.
A voter must ask the question, which candidate is, by virtue of character, better suited to respond wisely in moments of crisis? Which candidate is more likely to seek competent counsel? Which candidate is more likely to lay personal benefit aside for the sake of the greater good? Which candidate is more likely to take personal responsibility for failed policy decisions?
Some readers will answer each of those questions in the affirmative for Donald Trump. When made out of conviction, I respect their choice. I understand that the issues in this election are exceedingly complex and sincere people will come to different conclusions. That is how democracy works.
Other readers will raise the legitimate criticism that I have not said a word about the deficits in Kamala Harris’ character. I do not argue that Harris as a candidate is unimpugnable. Instead, I argue that Harris is a normal candidate cut from a typical mold of public servants who have deeply held policy positions but who honor the constitution above party or personal benefit. Trump, on the other hand, is an atypical candidate who has demonstrated by his actions that he does not honor the constitution above his personal interests and is willing to pervert it if it serves him.
Each voter must decide to whom they listen. I have chosen to listen to individuals who worked closely with Trump during his presidency. General John Kelly and General Mark Milley—disciplined military men with a stellar record of public service—have declared that Trump is a danger to our democracy. Fully half of his cabinet members while he held office and multiple high-level staffers have documented their refusal to support him. His own Vice President says that he should not be entrusted with the presidency again.
The subtitle of Nichols’ essay declares: “Donald Trump is the tyrant the first president feared.” Washington understood the fickleness of the human condition. He recognized that, “amid constant political warfare, some citizens would come to ‘seek security and repose in the absolute power of an individual’ and that eventually a demagogue would exploit that sentiment.” I am reminded of a recent conversation with one of my German friends. He explained to me that he had often asked himself over the years, “What is it that made the German people uniquely susceptible to Hitler’s deception. What is wrong with us?” Now Trump’s persistent influence in American politics has caused him to recognize that the fault lies not in the German heart, but in the human heart. All peoples are susceptible to authoritarian seduction.
Nichols concludes his essay with the observation that “Some Americans seem unable to accept how much peril they face should Trump return.” I write this in order to urge those few voters who are still undecided to carefully consider that peril. Trump’s character deficits will cost the nation dearly if he is reelected.
Steve Pecota - a Pastor in Seattle 