Is America a Christian nation?

Following is edited excerpts from my July 3 opinion column, written for a set of small-town Texas newspapers.

First, the background:

In other words, this is how we’re at “no and yes.” (The old “yes and no” is semi-cliched by now, so reversing it hopefully makes people pause more.)

On the “yes” side culturally, my jokes about Jeebus H. Trump trying to heal Mitch McConnell would be a total lead balloon if we weren’t such a nation culturally. The two biblical references, especially the second, are common enough tropes that a fair chunk of “Christmas and Easter” Christians, Nones, and even a fair chunk of Jews and non-Gnu atheists probably picked them up.

On the “no” side constitutionally, I first looked at actual language in both the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States:

I next looked at Deism among the Founding Fathers™ and divided them, per a book I read this spring, into an early version of “liberal Christian” Deists and Unitarian Deists. (Wiki largely agrees, on a page on religious beliefs of the presidents, labeling Jefferson as no organized religion, both Adamses as unofficial Unitarians, and Big Bill Taft and Millard Fillmore [unknown to me on him] as official Unitarians.)

I then pivoted to the venerable Treaty of Tripoli:

“As the Government of the United States of America is not, in any sense, founded on the Christian religion,—as it has in itself no character of enmity against the laws, religion, or tranquility, of Mussulmen [Muslims],—and as the said States never entered into any war or act of hostility against any Mahometan [Mohammedan] nation, it is declared by the parties that no pretext arising from religious opinions shall ever produce an interruption of the harmony existing between the two countries.”

And, that now leads me to Katherine Kelaidis and a piece she wrote for The New Republic after I wrote this column.

I like her callout of librul historians in today’s U.S. With setup, and using the pull-quote format for her piece:

[P]erhaps no nation has been more dependent upon its stories than the United States, a country formed in the relatively recent past without the benefits of shared ethnicity, language, or custom. In the absence of the usual ties that typically hold a nation together, it is values, we are told, that make an American an American and that make this country the special place that it is. Ironically, while Americans have always bitterly disagreed about the practical implications of those values, they have largely been consistent in the story they tell about those values and thus themselves. That story goes a little something like this: The United States was founded by good men, rebelling against tyranny and dedicated to the cause of liberty. Throughout its history, the United States has sought to pursue the path of freedom and justice, although some people—often, but not always progressives—are willing to concede that it has sometimes fallen short of this ideal. What these people will not concede, however—what they almost never concede—is the fundamental assumption that the United States of America is collectively a nation striving for the good.

In any other time, this persistent bit of American Exceptionalism might be excusable, even charming. But in a moment in which it seems not only increasingly impossible, but irresponsible, to ignore the deep flaws at the heart of the American project, this is exactly the choice that has been made by a certain brand of liberal public intellectual cum influencer in the Trump era. This cohort includes figures such as Jill Lepore, Ruth Ben-Ghiat, Joanne B. Freeman, and Kevin M. Kruse. Heather Cox Richardson and Timothy Snyder are arguably the two most prominent examples of a new iteration of an old trend, the historian as explainer, and perhaps more jarringly as political strategist. Credentialed historians and critics of the current regime, they promise key insight into the present via their knowledge of the past, and they have become a prominent feature of the opposition to Donald Trump.

First, I love callouts of American exceptionalism in general.

Second, some of the principals?

Lepore? “These Truths” was so crappy and error-ridden that I refused to even pick up “We the People.”

Snyder? As a non-duopoly leftist, I’ve long rejected his interpretation of events of recent years in Eastern Europe, as well as him being a Nat-Sec Nutsacks™ whisperer. I two-starred “Black Earth” and “Bloodlands” may have been even worse and didn’t get carried over from a now-dead Amazon account.

Kruse? From Blogger, here’s an expanded review of “Myth America,” also two-starred.

Kelaidis didn’t mention Tad Stoermer, because he’s not an A-list guy, but here’s my thoughts on him from a few weeks ago.

But, and this is why I note my use of the Treaty of Tripoli, as well as my “no or yes” introduction, Kelaidis then halfway jumps the shark:

And it’s true, the Treaty of Tripoli does say exactly that. But this is not the whole story. Many states maintained a religious test for office, and an established church, well into the nineteenth century. In fact, Massachusetts, where Richardson was educated and continues to work, did not fully disestablish its state church until 1833. Moreover, institutional histories are not the only histories that count. Rededicate 250 can only be seen as an anomaly if you ignore the long history connecting evangelical revivals and American politics dating back to Colonial times—traditions that have continually reasserted themselves in figures like Billy Graham and the continued prominence of megachurches. In the lived history of the Republic, not only the Christian character, but the evangelical nature of the country, are hard to deny. It can certainly be complicated and contextualized via documents like the Treaty of Tripoli. But that is different than asserting that their existence trumps other relevant details and events in U.S. history.

First, I’m sure Richardson knows that about the state of Massachusetts.

Second, the state of Massachusetts is not the government of the United States.

Third, Madison wanted to federalize the Bill of Rights from the start, as I noted in my column.

Fourth, much of the McResistance probably knows the same “no and yes” that I do, but are focused on the legal and constitutional side.

So, why?

Three things.

First, Kelaidis is, I think, non-American, whether British or Greek by nationality and may not pay attention to the more subtle matters of federalism. That said, her bachelor’s degree is from Berkeley, and she holds a fellowship with an institute in Chicago. That also said, ignorance is not an excuse.

Scratch that. Teh Google says she was born and raised in Merikkka. Indeed, in another piece, below the paywall, she says she grew up in the Colorado Springs area and references James Dobson. So, now we know she’s trying to play gotcha.

A piece at Quillette (yes) underscores that, as she condemns callouts of the Enlightenment over slavery, calling them “cynical critics.” Well, there we go. Call me a cynical critic of you, especially since it’s not the only piece you’ve written at Quillette.

More teh Google, as knowing she’s Orthodox, makes me wonder if she doesn’t have a friendly bone or four for caesaropapism.

Back to my column, and also to further observations about her: