From McCarthy to Trump: The Right's 75-Year Crusade Against Government

Ever since I participated in the Economic Policy Semester at American University in the Fall of 1980, I have been interested in the role of government in American society. As a 21-year-old college student, studying in Washington during the 1980 elections was an exciting time. As one of several hundred students from around the country with politically diverse viewpoints, I engaged in many lively conversations that continue to resonate with me today. My classmates and I debated the social worth of government, the importance of regulatory agencies, the benefits of public housing, job training, and poverty programs, the need for U.S. foreign aid, and whether myriad other federal programs benefited society. 

Forty-five years ago, Republicans and Democrats were frequently but not always on opposite sides of these debates. The two parties each had a healthy mix of liberals, moderates, and conservatives so the lines were not always clearly delineated. Most of the arguments were between self-identified liberals (including me), who believed that the role of government was to facilitate a better and more equitable society while protecting individual liberties, and conservatives, who wanted less government and advanced the virtues of unfettered free markets and rugged individualism.

In college, these liberal-conservative debates were mostly about the means to achieving common goals that we all shared. Although a few classmates on the left wanted to overthrow the chains of capitalism and a few on the right wanted to dismantle the federal government and return to an agrarian economy of the 1700’s, most of us fell within a reasonable centrist sphere of liberal to conservative thought.

Of course, American politics has always had fringe elements on the Right and Left. Other than the first three years of LBJ’s Great Society in the mid-1960s when the governing coalition leaned left on social and economic issues, since World War II, American presidential administrations from Truman to Carter have governed from the pragmatic center. During most of this era, conservative public intellectuals ranging from William F. Buckley, Jr., to George Will and Irving Kristol, and publications like The Public Interest and The National Review, protested from the sidelines what they viewed as the excesses of the New Deal and Great Society. They argued for a smaller, less bloated federal bureaucracy and advocated private solutions to the nation’s ills. And yet, they understood and did not dispute that government provided many essential services for people in a complex and dynamic economy. 

As President Kennedy stated at a 1962 press conference, although Americans had been “conditioned for many years to have a political viewpoint—Republican or Democratic, liberal, conservative, or moderate,” most of the nation’s problems are “technical problems, administrative problems” that “do not lend themselves to the great sort of passionate movements which have stirred this country so often in the past.” When it came to preserving and protecting the institutions of our democracy, the Liberal Establishment was a pretty conservative bunch.

Back then, the Republican Party expressed concern for fiscal responsibility and used phrases like “sensible limits,” “shared sacrifice,” and “common ideals.” They discussed the balance between “mutual obligation” and “individual responsibility.” But that is no longer true. Today, so-called conservatives are mostly silent on these concepts – in fact, it is not unusual for the Right to accuse as socialist anyone who utters “common ideals” or “shared sacrifice.” In President Trump’s recent address to a joint session of Congress, we heard no such phrases and instead listened to boastful praise for the massive dismantling of the federal government led by Elon Musk and his band of 20-year-old technocrats. How did we get here?

In The Death of Conservatism: A Movement and Its Consequences (Random House 2010), Sam Tanenhaus asserts that today’s increasingly polarized politics and radical rightward shift within the Republican Party that led to the rise of the Tea Party (where his book ends)—and, by logical extension, to Trumpism—originated during the advent of the Cold War in the late 1940s, when talk of the “enemy within” and congressional witch hunts into allegedly “secret” Communist cabals within the federal government were the regular subject of news reports. 

Starting in 1950, Senator Joseph McCarthy of Wisconsin led a series of high-profile investigations into the Truman and Eisenhower administrations in a failed attempt to expose subversive elements in the upper echelons of government, including the U.S. Army, State Department, and CIA. Along with the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC), which investigated subversive elements in Hollywood and among the ranks of American artists, professors, writers, and intellectuals, a lot of people were harmed and some ruined with scant evidence of Communist infiltration. By the time McCarthy had been exposed as a drunkard and a fraud, the John Birch Society (JBS) picked up where McCarthy left off, even accusing President Eisenhower of being a Communist agent. On the day President Kennedy visited Texas in November 1963, former General Edwin Walker, a prominent JBS member, printed and distributed thousands of leaflets all over Dallas accusing the President of treason against the United States. 

Although they lacked legitimate power, McCarthy’s and the Birchers’ true accomplishment was to fuel the Right’s antigovernment crusade and hatred of “Washington bureaucrats” that continues to this day. That the government was perceived as the “enemy” of the people would increasingly become a staple of Republican politics over the next half-century. Respectable conservatives like Buckley, Will, Kristol, and other philosophically minded types understood that such denunciations primarily came from “crackpots” and amounted to an attack on America itself. Indeed, Buckley tried to purge the Birchers from the conservative movement and, post-McCarthy, thoughtful conservatives rejected extremism and sought a more pragmatic and realistic examination of government. 

Politicians who attempted to upset the consensus politics of the time did not fare well. When Barry Goldwater was nominated as the Republican candidate for president in 1964, the outcome proved that far-right conservatives were out of touch with most Americans. Through his book, The Conscience of a Conservative (ghostwritten by Brent Bozell, a strong supporter of Joseph McCarthy and a member of the John Birch Society), Goldwater promised a total dismantling of the welfare state. “I have little interest in streamlining government or in making it more efficient, for I mean to reduce its size,” wrote Goldwater. “My aim is not to pass laws, but to repeal them.” Voter’s rejected Goldwater’s candidacy by huge numbers. Lyndon Johnson won the 1964 presidential election by a landslide, winning 44 states to Goldwater’s six (the electoral college tally was 486 – 52 in favor of LBJ) and the popular vote by 61.1% to 38.5%. (Unlike 2024, that was an actual landslide and mandate.)

Goldwater’s humiliation at the polls temporarily moderated the Republican Party and helped elect Richard Nixon in 1968. Nixon came to fame during his HUAC days and was known for playing dirty politics. But as William Safire noted, Nixon was a politician “willing and even eager to surprise with liberal ideas” in the tradition of former British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli, a Conservative Party leader who outmaneuvered his opposition by governing with liberal innovation. As Tanenhaus explains, “Nixon consistently departed from movement antigovernment doctrine.” He created the Environmental Protection Agency, the Occupational Safety and Health Administration, instituted affirmative action programs, and endorsed expansionist Keynesian economic stimulus programs, all things that are anathema in Republican circles today. 

Ironically, Nixon’s downfall at the behest of Watergate may have helped spark the Right’s burning suspicion of the “dark liberal forces” and media elites arrayed against Nixon. “The argument that political power emanated from an alliance of liberal government bureaucrats and a sympathetic press,” writes Tanenhaus, “became a favorite theme in the movement’s next phase.”

Over the next decade, a growing antigovernment animus broadened within the Republican Party that reached a pinnacle in the Reagan Revolution of the 1980s. Reagan was the first president in my lifetime who ran and won on an explicitly antigovernment platform. Photogenic with an amiable personality, Reagan preached that government was the enemy and not the solution. He represented a strain of conservatism that wished to upset the New Deal coalition that had retained power for the previous 50 years. 

Reagan gave voice to a long-standing belief among the more conservative wing of the Republican Party that an elite corps of salaried, mid-level managers and government administrators had amassed unprecedented authority and shifted power from private business interests to an unelected administrative state. It would not be long before terms like “good vs. evil” began to emerge on the Right when discussing social programs, environmental regulations, foreign aid, and many areas of federal governmental action. Reagan was particularly skilled at exploiting a pent-up anger towards government programs that Reagan charged took money from hardworking Americans and re-distributed it to the undeserving poor through entitlements and welfare programs.

But although Reagan promoted an antigovernment philosophy, he did not actually govern that way. As David Frum, a former speechwriter for George W. Bush, has noted, “not one major spending program was abolished during the Reagan presidency.” Although Reagan promoted the virtues of the private sector and free markets, he understood, as George Will has written, that government, “unlike an economic market, has responsibilities” that included aiding those for whom the market does not provide through “policies that express the community’s acceptance of an ethic of common provision.” 

According to Tanenhaus, “conservatism entered its most decadent phase” during the 1990s, when the Right went all in on the “culture wars.” Rush Limbaugh replaced George Will as a spokesperson for the conservative cause. Republicans started to place loyalty to the “movement” above civic responsibility. They began rejecting notions of the common good and consensus politics. Republican politicians who dared to compromise or find common ground with the “enemy” were shunned. When the country elected Barack Obama in November 2008, Republicans made it their mission to limit Obama to one term (it failed) and uniformly opposed his major initiatives, even though many of Obama's proposals adopted conservative ideas.

The Right’s shared disdain for government, combined with a distaste for compromise, has only metastasized with the rise of Trump. They are more interested in destroying, rather than conserving, the institutions, traditions, and mutual obligations of civil society. As recently as three decades ago, moderate Republicans formed a sizable and influential segment of the party. Today, the party’s House and Senate caucuses are firmly committed to the politics of polarization and destruction – a pro-Trump orthodoxy that does not allow dissent or independent thought. 

“Therein lies the paradox of the modern Right,” writes Tanenhaus. “Its drive for power has steered it onto a path that has become profoundly and defiantly un-conservative—in its arguments and ideas, in its tactics and strategies, above all in its vision. . . . Classical conservatives have all either deserted the Right or been evicted from it.” This has become most prominent in the resurgence of the John Birch Society and its legacy of conspiracy theories that has become a dominant strain on the Right. Opposition to big government has become opposition to government itself, and the social institutions that sustain democracy. The current White House Deputy Chief of Staff, Stephen Miller, has publicly equated federal workers with “radical left Communists” and “criminal cartels.”

Although Trump personally has no firmly held political convictions other than a fervent belief in his own aggrandizement, the movement he leads has finally, after many decades in the political wilderness, attained true power. While most of its proponents identify as conservative, the policies being enacted are anything but conservative in the classical sense. Trumpism is a non-ideological movement, consisting of right-wing evangelicals, isolationists, America Firsters, Christian nationalists, an assortment of libertarians, and a large collection of conspiracy theorists and alternative reality types who reject traditional news reporting. They perceive the institutions of democracy, government, education, media, and international diplomacy as hostile forces out to destroy the “real America,” which under Trump's worldview includes only Trump loyalists.

In just six weeks, Trump and Elon Musk have sought to eliminate dozens of long-standing and essential federal programs and agencies. Little thought is put into the proposed cuts other than personal revenge. The whole purpose seems to be to radically dismantle the federal government and reverse all the progress we have made over the last 100 years in civil rights, the environment, workplace safety and health, the social safety net, diplomacy, and the building of the post-War alliance. 

Trump also seeks to impose a rigid orthodoxy within government that puts fealty to Trump above the Constitution. He is radically eviscerating the independence of all executive branch agencies. He has openly politicized and imposed loyalty tests on traditionally non-political, independent institutions such as the Department of Justice, the FBI, and the CIA. He fired 18 Inspectors General whose job was to independently monitor federal agencies and ferret out actual waste, fraud, and abuse. Although the courts may yet have their say, the Trump administration intends to eliminate the U.S. Agency for International Development, the Education Department, the Environmental Protection Agency, the Consumer Financial Protection Agency, and numerous other departments. He has fired thousands of government workers in every agency throughout the government and has vowed to drastically reduce the size of the IRS, the Social Security Administration, and the Veterans Administration. He repeatedly attacks the country’s most elite universities and wishes to eradicate diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives from public and private life. 

None of these actions have included careful study and debate, for they are designed to produce random chaos and destruction. The result will predictably wreak havoc on the economy and detrimentally impact the lives of millions of Americans, many of whom voted for Trump.

We have always had strands of far Right, antigovernment extremism on the fringes of American society. As a lone senator, McCarthy could only do so much damage and the Eisenhower faction soon controlled the Republican Party. The Birchers, the conspiracy theorists, and other peripheral elements made noise, but they existed on the sidelines. That is no longer the case. The antigovernment extremists are currently in power, and the damage they are doing to the country, the economy, and the social fabric of America, is profound and potentially unlimited. We are living in dangerous times.

The need for responsible government, which used to be a high ideal of conservative philosophy, has never been greater. The current crop of spineless Republicans who used to claim allegiance to our democracy now slavishly support an authoritarian patriarchy akin to monarchy. Now is the time for true conservatives to stand up to speak. It may be the only hope we have to preserve the Constitution and the foundations of our Republic.

Remembering Gene Hackman

A man who comes to a place like this, either he's running away from something, or he has nowhere else to go. – Myra Fleener (Barbara Hershey) on Coach Norman Dale (Gene Hackman), Hoosiers

As iconic figures extolled and venerated by the rest of us, movie stars have the advantage of immortality. Even after departing life, they leave behind a body of work we may continue to explore. With the recent death of Gene Hackman, we have lost one of the great actors of my lifetime. I do not generally mourn the loss of famous people. After all, I don’t know them personally, and I don’t know if they were kind and decent human beings in their everyday lives. It is misguided to assume that an actor’s on-screen characters are a true reflection of their personal character. It is, after all, their job to play an assigned role and not themselves. The best actors are good because the characters they play have no relation to their personal likability or moral worth as human beings.

As I grow older, and this may be something I need to get used to, the obituary pages are more frequently filled with people I grew up with, even if I did not know them personally. With Gene Hackman, however, I feel a sense of loss because many of the roles he played so well were so relatable. Hackman was an everyman. He was the bus driver and train operator you said hello to on your daily commute, the coach or teacher you looked up to, the military commander you feared and respected, the flawed detective caught in an ethical dilemma. He could be serious, funny, authoritative, sensitive, arrogant, humble, likeable and mean, and sometimes many of these things all at once.

I have not seen all of Hackman’s movies, and I had to research his forty-year body of work as a reminder of how accomplished and varied his roles were. Three of my favorite Hackman characters were the gritty, rules-be-damned FBI agent in Mississippi Burning, the coach in need of redemption in Hoosiers, and the conflicted clergyman, devoid of faith, battling to save a handful of survivors in The Poseidon Adventure. But he had so many great roles, including as “Popeye” Doyle, the crass and relentless narcotics detective in The French Connection, for which he won an Oscar for best actor in 1971. 

“There’s no identifiable quality that makes Mr. Hackman stand out,” Janet Maslin wrote in The New York Times in 1988. “He simply makes himself outstandingly vital and real.” Hackman played widely diverse roles with equal skill and proficiency. From the delightfully playful villain Lex Luthor in Superman to a mean-spirited, corrupt sheriff in Unforgiven, he was semi-likeable and evil at the same time. He was surprisingly funny in several understated comedic roles, including as a morally uptight, conservative senator in The Birdcage, as a former president running for mayor of a small town in Welcome to Mooseport, and as the estranged family patriarch in The Royal Tenenbaums. And he mastered the roles of complex men internally conflicted by professional and ethical discord, such as a paranoid surveillance expert in The Conversation and a widowed college professor with an overbearing father in the 1970 film I Never Sang for My Father. His many good roles in so many good films over the years make it difficult to compose a definitive top ten or twenty list.

But for me, the film that best captures the subtle quality of Hackman’s screen presence is Hoosiers, the story of a small high school’s triumph against all odds to win the Indiana High School Championship in 1952. Hackman played Norman Dale, the coach with a tarnished past who is given one last chance at redemption. Although a small budget movie, Hoosiers is among a select list of highly memorable sports films, and it resonated with me entirely because of the understated manner of Hackman’s performance. 

We learn early in Hoosiers that Coach Dale is a flawed man. He is desperate to save his career, while atoning for a past mistake. Slightly contemptuous of the small midwestern town in which he finds himself, Dale is a stubborn, uncompromising, strong-willed coach in a place that treats high school basketball as the most important thing in the world. As an outsider with a mysterious past, the townsfolk lack faith in Dale. Many of the town’s outspoken boosters want the coach fired after an underwhelming start to the season and because he stubbornly refuses to adapt to their way of doing things. 

But Dale perseveres in the face of adversity and refuses to give up even when most of the town has given up on him. Dale gradually bonds with his players and helps them come together as a team and win against all odds. In time, the coach’s willingness to be vulnerable, and his ability to empathize with the complex lives of his players and the community to which he was exiled, helps him achieve quiet salvation. 

As someone who played high school sports, including basketball for a less-than-mediocre team in central New Jersey, I believe that Hackman’s understated yet complex performance in Hoosiers showed what a good coach should and should not be. Like many of Hackman’s roles, his character in Hoosiers combined likability with complexity. His character evolved from a man set on his coaching ways, to a more understanding and empathetic coach who listened to his players and welcomed the contributions of others. 

But it is more than Hackman’s skillful acting that saddens me most with his passing, for I can continue to watch his films and appreciate his acting skills. No, it is a combination of how he carried himself, the sensitivity he displayed, the complexity of his characters, and his general demeanor that I will miss the most. In many of his films, and especially his role in Hoosiers, Hackman reminded me of my older brother Steve, who died at 61 more than seven years ago. Hackman even looked a little bit like a younger Steve and many of Hackman’s characters displayed Steve’s similar mannerisms, a rough and slightly rugged edge combined with the vulnerability and humility of someone who makes a lot of mistakes and keeps on going. 

Some of Hackman’s appeal may also be that, like my brother, life was not always easy and smooth sailing. Hackman was 13 years old when his father left the family. As the young teenage Hackman played in the street, his father merely waved at his son as he drove away. It was the last time Hackman ever saw his father. Hackman was 36 before he got his first real break in Hollywood as Warren Beatty’s sidekick in Bonnie and Clyde. Before then, he had served in the Marines and worked odd jobs in California and New York, from truck driver to doorman, until finally achieving any success as an actor. Much like my brother Steve, Hackman didn’t have the typical looks of a leading man, and yet he was appealing and relatable in ways that connected with people. He was full of grit and honesty and possessed a distinctive understanding of the many flawed, conflicted men he played. 

The teenage protagonist of The Wonder Years once said, "Memory is a way of holding on to the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose." If for no other reason than he reminds me of my older brother, I will continue to watch films starring Gene Hackman and keep him as a presence in my life through the gift of film, just as I do with Steve, through the gift of memories. 

The Coming of Spring

     

I know, of course, that spring ball games in Florida and Arizona are meant to be forgotten. March standings and averages are written in the sand; winning is incidental. Many ballplayers hate spring training—rookies because of the anxieties of trying to win a job, the regulars because of the immense labor and boredom of physical conditioning, the fear of injury, and the threat, heavier each year, of losing a starting position. Only the fan—and perhaps only the big-city fan, at that—is free to savor the special taste of this time and place. – Roger Angell, March 1968

When I first sat down to write this, snowflakes gently fell in eastern Pennsylvania as the sub-freezing temperatures of the past two weeks stubbornly refused to yield. Meanwhile, in the sun-filled ballparks of Florida and Arizona, baseball has begun. Pitchers and catchers reported to spring camp less than two weeks ago, followed by position players. For the next thirty days, mornings are devoted to fielding drills and batting practice, to outfielders chasing down flyballs hit by coaches with fungoes, to wind sprints and physical conditioning. The afternoons surrender to exhibition games and a chance to examine fresh talent and new arrivals. For the returning players, spring training is all business, a necessary part of honing their craft and ensuring they fulfill their end of multi-million-dollar contracts. For the rest of us, it is about the hope and anticipation of a new season.

For true baseball fans, the calendar year takes on a different dimension than it does for other less passionate souls. The year begins in mid-February, when pitchers and catchers report south and begin tossing white baseballs through the Florida air. Within a few days, the position players arrive and surround batting cages, chat with each other about their craft and off-season endeavors, while teammates gracefully swing wooden bats that crisply strike pitched balls with eye-catching splendor. On the backfields, rows of pitchers throw dart-like fastballs into the pockets of catcher’s mitts with blinding speed and precision.

It is at this time of year when the game comes alive. A new season is born. It matters not whether these images leave lasting memories, because it is the anticipation of opening day and the fresh start of a newborn season that brings us feelings of joy and renewed hope. It is a sentiment experienced by baseball fans everywhere, and it arrives just in time, when the depression of a cold harsh winter has not yet conceded defeat to the warmth of spring. For it is only then that the season begins in earnest. 

On Saturday, I streamed the audio of the first Cardinals pre-season game and, for the next two hours, imagined myself in the stands of Roger Dean Stadium in Jupiter, Florida, where visions of a blue sky and sunshine transported me to another place and time. I imagined a younger, more innocent time, when the open expanse of a sun-drenched ballfield conjured dreams of glory. For fans who live in cold, northern cities and towns, visions of green grass, palm trees, and sunshine allow us to breathe a sigh of relief and entertain memories of a more virtuous time, when the smell of peanuts and cigar smoke on a warm summer twilight at the ballpark was the most beautiful thing in all the world. 

As a lifelong Cardinals fan, who lives and dies with the outcome of every game, follows their day-to-day progress, examines the box scores, and analyzes the daily statistics, I have a distinct perspective than more passive sports fans. For a few weeks in early March, when the pre-season games are well under way and the annual baseball previews fill the eternally optimistic fan with hope, the world seems like a brighter place. It is before the games count, when we convince ourselves of how good our beloved team will be if only that new star emerges from the minor league system, the young Japanese standout takes root, and if the health of the starting pitchers does not betray them. 

The Cardinals have been uninspiring for the past two seasons, finishing in last place in 2023 only to improve to a lackluster 83-79 finish in 2024. This year, they are in a “re-set” as their maddeningly emotionless and soft-spoken general manager calls it, not exactly giving up on a competitive season but lowering expectations as they re-establish their minor league player development. But I refuse to give up entirely, for that would defy all elements of my baseball-loving character. 

In these upbeat and reassuring days of spring, I see signs of optimism, as the Cardinals young manager Ollie Marmol and up-and-coming stars to be—Masyn Winn, Jordan Walker, Nolan Gorman, Ivan Herrara, Lars Nootbaar, and Brendan Donovan—talk about a team that may surprise people. The baseball pundits are not buying it. They question the quality of the bullpen and see few bright spots in a starting rotation that includes a washed-up Miles Mikolas and injury-prone Steven Matz. Cynical sportswriters notwithstanding, I have no choice but to believe in these young men who believe in themselves. The alternative is too depressing with such a long season ahead.

For fans of good teams with winning histories and talent-filled rosters, spring baseball inevitably brings visions of a glorious finish, or at least thoughts of what once was and what could be again. I have had the pleasure of that feeling for most of the past two decades. But even now, when the Cardinals are struggling to find out who they are and looking to shed payroll (ahh, the dreaded business side of things), I cannot help but envision the possibility of everything coming together. Oh, how splendid it would be if the Redbirds silenced their critics and competed with the overpriced teams in New York, Los Angeles, and a handful of other cities. Indeed, I would not be a devoted fan if I could not dream a little.

Of course, in February and March, when our baseball senses awaken from the slumber of winter, it is easy to be filled with thoughts of a splendid and magnificent summer. But in less than thirty days, opening day arrives and the bright and cheerful predictions of a new season fade into the abyss of an anxiety-filled 162 game schedule. Sadly, for me, the next six months will define the calendar year as one of celebration or disappointment. Little else will matter as each day brings forth a fresh battle of good versus evil. All else in life becomes secondary.

In following the Cardinals during Grapefruit League play, I am relaxed and carefree. The outcome of each game means nothing, and I can vicariously experience the sights and sounds of baseball in the same manner as my Uncle Joe, a gentle soul who took me to the ballpark when I was a young child and who watched spring training games in the Florida sunshine many years ago. He never seemed upset or overly excited about anything that happened on the ballfield, and his relaxed demeanor was contagious. As I grow older, if truth be told, I cannot fully emulate the moderate temperament of my Uncle Joe. I much prefer it when the Cardinals do well in these meaningless games, but even when they do not, my day continues without feelings of solicitude.

All of that will change when opening day arrives. For now, I am content to watch or listen to two hours of old-style baseball played in the sun on a Winter afternoon. The games will become competitive and serious soon enough. And while my insane passion for the Cardinals may be inexplicable to some people (yes, I know the look) and cause me a great deal of agony in the coming months, whatever happens, my love of baseball will remain a deeply embedded part of my soul. The smell of grass on a summer afternoon and the feel of a leather glove, the seams of a baseball, and the smooth handle of a wooden bat, will remain timeless remnants of my childhood. 

The professional game is so much more advanced and sophisticated than when I was young, a more complex blend of analytics, video, physics, and strength training. It has become a highly specialized sport, and success requires committing at an early age to developing advanced baseball skills at the expense of all else. Professional baseball is about money, endorsements, press relations, high-priced tickets in stadiums filled with loud music and noise. And yet somehow, through it all, the history and romance of the game has not left me. I still love the game and how it makes me feel. For two or three hours on a summer night, time slows down, and we get to experience and watch young and graceful athletes doing something that only a small segment of humanity can do at such an elevated level. 

There remains an awareness that the game itself is timeless. From Ty Cobb and Babe Ruth to the Negro Leagues, from Mel Ott and Bobby Thompson and the players my dad watched at the Polo Grounds in his youth, to Lou Brock and Orlando Cepeda and the heroes of my childhood, to Shohei Ohtani and Aaron Judge and the great players of today’s game, the players move with the same easy flow of cadence and pace. “That is how the game was played in our youth and in our fathers’ youth,” writes Roger Angell, “and even back then—back in the country days—there must have been the feeling that time could be stopped.”

In Defense of Campus Speech and the Need to Build Bridges

One of the most enjoyable aspects of my job at a global investigations firm over the past eighteen years has been working with colleges and universities on a variety of concerns. In many of these matters, I observed first-hand how university presidents must delicately balance the conflicting pressures and demands they face from major donors and powerful alumni, upset parents, headline-grabbing politicians, and government oversight bodies. Nothing compares, however, to the difficulty university presidents have faced since the start of the Israel-Hamas war in trying to balance concerns over academic freedom and free speech with the university’s duty to protect students from intimidation and harassment.

On October 7, 2023, thousands of Hamas terrorists from the Gaza Strip launched a murderous onslaught against the people of Israel. The scope and brutality of the attack shocked Israel and the world. Hamas killed over 1,200 Israelis, injured thousands more, and took hostage over 240 people, including dozens of children and elderly citizens. The attack was the deadliest single attack on the Jewish people since the Holocaust. 

Colleges and universities across the United States deeply felt the impact of October 7, especially universities with substantial Jewish and Arab student populations. Many Jewish students have strong family ties and deep attachments to Israel. The Arab and Muslim communities likewise have family and history directly tied to the traditional land of Palestine. Accordingly, when news reports of the massacre and brutality of the killings and kidnappings filtered in on October 7 and the days and months that followed, and as the Israeli military response resulted in the deaths of over 45,000 Palestinians and the near complete destruction of Gaza, substantial segments of these university communities were emotionally devastated and traumatized.

During the past sixteen months, as the nation’s colleges and universities have experienced increased levels of student activism and protests, we have seen increased levels of antisemitism and Islamophobia worldwide. Accompanying this has been a disturbing increase in antisemitic and Islamophobic comments on social media; violent online threats against the Jewish and Palestinian Arab communities; and widespread concerns over doxing and the suppression of free speech. 

Although most student protest activity has been peaceful and nonviolent, university presidents and their administrations have faced intense pressures to discipline and remove students who engaged in protest activity or participated in Palestine Solidarity encampments. Congressional oversight panels and media outlets have frequently accused universities of tolerating antisemitism and rendering their campuses unsafe for Jewish students, while in most cases ignoring similar concerns expressed by Muslim and Arab students.

Within the past three weeks, the Trump administration has threatened universities with the loss of federal funding if they fail to hold pro-Palestinian protesters accountable for allegedly antisemitic behavior. A recent executive order requires universities to monitor and report international students who participated in anti-Israel protests, and Trump has repeated his campaign promises to deport international students who participated in the protests. According to a White House fact sheet, the administration intends to target “pro-Hamas aliens and left-wing radicals” in “leftist, anti-American colleges and universities” and “demands the removal of resident aliens who violate our laws.” A Justice Department press release announcing the formation of Task Force to Combat Antisemitism said the group’s priority would be “to root out antisemitic harassment in schools and on college campuses.”

The past year has also seen an unprecedented flurry of civil rights lawsuits and Education Department investigations alleging that anti-Zionist and anti-Israel speech displayed or chanted during campus protests is inherently antisemitic and creates a hostile environment for Jewish students. These Title VI lawsuits and investigations rely on a legal theory that equates anti-Zionism and intense criticism of Israel with antisemitism, a theory premised on the belief that many Jews strongly identify with Israel as part of their shared ancestry.

If the above legal actions applied only to students who engaged in physical assaults or intimidation tactics, vandalized Jewish-owned stores, stole mezuzahs from a student’s doorways, discriminated against individual Jews by prohibiting “Zionists” from public spaces on campus, and similar violative behavior, there would be little cause for concern. Students that engage in these sorts of actions should be disciplined and punished. But when the intended targets are students who merely exercised their rights of free speech and lawful protest, these official actions and legal remedies threaten democracy.

By using terms like “pro-Hamas,” “left-wing radicals,” and “leftist” universities, Trump’s rhetoric raises two concerns. First, painting all pro-Palestinian protestors as “pro-Hamas” has been a standard talking point on the right to tarnish the student protestors falsely and unfairly, the vast majority of whom have no sympathy for Hamas. At two separate universities at which I assessed campus protest activity, none of the protestors expressed support for Hamas and the student organizations involved implemented strict rules prohibiting any expressions of antisemitism. The protests at both campuses included a significant number of Jewish participants, and it was common to see a Shabbat service held in the middle of an encampment and similar acts of solidarity. These are not the actions of “pro-Hamas” students or “left-wing radicals.”

Second, Trump’s pronouncements do nothing to combat antisemitism. For instance, the administration has offered no additional resources to enhance security for synagogues and Jewish institutions that have long been targets of anti-Jewish violence from homegrown right-wing extremists, whom Trump has often enabled. And the administration has said nothing to counter the mostly right-wing antisemitic tropes and propaganda trending on social media. Instead, his efforts will only serve to increase anti-Muslim bias and Islamophobia which, along with increased levels of antisemitism, reached record levels in the United States last year.

Trump’s ill-advised approach to combat antisemitism, and legal efforts to conflate anti-Israel speech with antisemitism, threaten free speech and academic freedom. In a free society, the university is a place for wide-ranging expression and debate, where students can explore and analyze provocative theories and express views that others may find misguided or objectionable. It is a place to be challenged and exposed to differing perspectives, even at the risk of discomfort. The appropriate response to disagreeable speech is not to censor or punish, but to challenge, criticize, educate, and persuade. 

Of course, universities may and do impose content-neutral restraints on the time, place, and manner of student protests. Students have no right to interfere with other students’ ability to attend class or study, to defame or threaten, to intimidate or harass, or to incite violence.

For many students and others navigating the Israel-Palestinian conflict, it can be difficult to identify where the line between legitimate political speech and antisemitic hate speech is drawn because many people, including the head of the Anti-Defamation League, which tracks incidents of antisemitism around the world, equate broad criticisms of Israel and anti-Zionist rhetoric with antisemitism. The use by some pro-Palestinian protestors of certain words and phrases like “From the river to the sea, Palestine must be free,” comparisons of Zionism to genocide, references to Israel as a colonial settler movement, and calls for “intifada” are frequently targeted. Such slogans often trigger broad accusations of antisemitism and concern for Jewish safety. 

Like most politically-controversial speech, however, these phrases mean different things to different people. A helpful resource on this issue is The Nexus Leadership Project's A Campus Guide to Identifying Antisemitism in a Time of Perplexity, which was authored by several prominent Jewish leaders, rabbis, and scholars of Jewish and Israel studies. According to these authorities on the topic, the intent of the speaker and context is most determinative of whether the phrase constitutes discriminatory hate speech. These scholars explain that many of these commonly used protest slogans are not inherently antisemitic, however offensive they may be to certain individuals. 

When it comes to emotionally-charged debates on college campuses, efforts to effectively outlaw certain controversial slogans or to punish students who engage in non-violent forms of protest, is the wrong approach. In November 2023, the American Civil Liberties Union sent a letter to the presidents of 650 universities to “reject calls to investigate, disband, or penalize student groups on the basis of their exercise of free speech rights”:

All students deserve equal access to education—free from harassment and discrimination on campus. Schools have a responsibility to address discrimination and harassment wherever it occurs. But the experience of our country’s universities during the McCarthy era demonstrates that ideologically motivated efforts to police speech on campus destroy the foundation on which academic communities are built. A college or university, whether public or private, cannot fulfill its mission as a forum for vigorous debate if its leaders initiate baseless investigations into those who express disfavored or even loathsome views. Such investigations chill speech, foster an atmosphere of mutual suspicion, and betray the spirit of free inquiry, which is based on the power to persuade rather than the power to punish.

People have different levels of tolerance for certain types of speech. Balancing the rights of free speech with the right of people to not be offended is precarious. But there are far better and safer ways to approach the issue than censorship and punishment. From a safety and security perspective, a university’s defense of freedom of expression, combined with increased efforts to educate and inform, to promote respectful dialogue, and to protect the physical safety of all students as they continue to pursue their education, is the most effective response. 

Universities have a responsibility to educate students on when certain speech crosses the line into antisemitism, Islamophobia, or racism. For example, when do expressions of anti-Zionism become antisemitism? How can students speak openly and freely about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and other hot political topics in a manner that remains civil and educational? Using university resources to engage in a balanced and scholarly examination of antisemitism and Islamophobia—and when or whether certain speech crosses a line—can help facilitate productive conversations and promote dialogue. If done with nuance and sensitivity, it can also help student activists better understand what terms and phrases are potentially counter-productive to their cause and hurtful in unintended ways. 

Universities should also provide resources to support small group discussions, interfaith dialogue, and cross-political bridge building. These and similar efforts are far more productive than censorship and punishment. In my work at one university, I observed examples of  students and staff working together to promote understanding and dialogue around politically and emotionally charged issues. Effective bridge building typically occurs on a small scale rather than through large public events and forums. Students can benefit from guidance and direction in how to establish opportunities for understanding and to connect conflict resolution principles to politically volatile environments. 

While it is not the university’s responsibility to make students feel comfortable with differing historical narratives, efforts to promote understanding and provide support can help lessen anxiety over safety concerns. For example, in 2023, Dartmouth College held a series of successful panel discussions between professors from its Jewish Studies and Middle Eastern Studies departments (including Susannah Heschel, a Jewish Studies professor and the daughter of Abraham Joshua Heschel, and Ezzedine Fishere, a Muslim professor of Middle Eastern Studies and a former Egyptian diplomat to Israel). Most universities possess similar in-house expertise and resources, including experts in Middle Eastern, Jewish, and Islamic Studies, mental health counseling, and resources to support interfaith cooperation and dialogue. 

Most campus protests involve young men and women in their late teens and early twenties. Many students are for the first time being exposed to conflicting historical narratives and new and challenging perspectives. College is a time for personal and intellectual growth. Students should be allowed to express themselves freely without fear of punishment, so long as they do not infringe on the rights of others. 

I have been deeply disturbed by the startling rise in antisemitism in recent years—from the right and the left—but there is a right and wrong way to fight anti-Jewish violence and bigotry. To properly counter antisemitism, it is important not to conflate legitimate forms of political protest, including critical speech directed at Israel, with antisemitism. Regardless of how strongly one disagrees with them, falsely accusing most pro-Palestinian protestors as “pro-Hamas” or antisemitic not only ignores the moral passion and sincerity of their cause—the deaths of tens of thousands of civilians, the forcible displacement of two million people, and the destruction of Gaza—but it dilutes the meaning of antisemitism, undermines legitimate efforts to combat it, and threatens the very foundations of a free society.

 

Trump's Assault on the Federal Government Threatens All of US

Federal Safety Inspector for the Food Safety and Inspection Service

I devoted half my career as a lawyer for the Department of Justice, serving as an Assistant United States Attorney for eight years in the District of Columbia and ten years in the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. As a criminal prosecutor in these two federal districts, I had the privilege of working with hundreds of dedicated public servants of all political persuasions, people who took seriously their ethical responsibilities and commitment to the rule of law and the U.S. Constitution. From the moment I first took an oath as a federal prosecutor in 1988, I maintained a printed copy of a quote from U.S. Supreme Court Justice George Sutherland in Berger v. United States, 295 U.S. 88 (1935), which stated in part:

The United States Attorney is the representative not of an ordinary party to a controversy, but of a sovereignty whose obligation to govern impartially is as compelling as its obligation to govern at all; and whose interest, therefore, in a criminal prosecution is not that it shall win a case, but that justice shall be done. As such, [the prosecutor] is in a peculiar and very definite sense the servant of the law, the twofold aim of which is that guilt shall not escape or innocence suffer.

Over the years, my colleagues and I were frequently reminded of the words of former Chief Nuremberg Prosecutor, Attorney General, and Supreme Court Justice Robert Jackson, who told the Second Annual Conference of United States Attorneys in 1940:

A sensitiveness to fair play and sportsmanship is perhaps the best protection against the abuse of power, and the citizen’s safety lies in the prosecutor who tempers zeal with human kindness, who seeks truth and not victims, who serves the law and not factional purposes, and who approaches his task with humility.

Although the President appoints each U.S. Attorney, the entire staff at each office consists of non-political civil servants. In my eighteen years as an AUSA, I worked for Republican and Democratic administrations and served for five separate U.S. Attorneys appointed by four different presidents. I still have the handwritten notes from one of my early training sessions. On the topic of prosecutorial discretion, my notes reflect: “non-political judgments, enforce law – equal application; legislature decides what a crime is – prosecutor decides only whether crime [was] committed & sufficiency of evidence.” 

This dedication to fairness and objectivity was shared by all my colleagues (including my wife, who was a talented and devoted federal prosecutor for 31 years), and by the hundreds of federal law enforcement agents who investigated and developed the evidence in cases assigned to me. I worked closely with countless agents from the FBI, DEA, ATF, the U.S. Postal Inspection Service, Customs, Immigration, IRS, U.S. Secret Service, the U.S. Department of Agriculture, and many local and state law enforcement officers. 

Although my professional responsibilities focused on federal criminal prosecutions, over the years I have become friends and interacted with dozens of career federal employees, from foreign aid workers to diplomats, lawyers, doctors, scientists, economists, researchers, intelligence analysts, air traffic controllers, and many others. In every case, I have been impressed with how sincerely they believed in what they were doing, how much they loved serving their country and the public good. Many were highly specialized and possessed unmatched expertise in their fields. Almost all of them could have made more money in the private sector, but they were driven by a sense of mission and public service.

I point this out to emphasize how disheartening and devastating are the recent actions of Elon Musk and the Trump administration to purge or fire hundreds of experienced career federal employees, and their attempts to coerce the resignations of a large segment of the federal workforce. The day before the tragic air collision between an American Airlines jet and a U.S. Army helicopter that killed sixty-seven people, all air traffic controllers working for the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) received an email from the White House titled “Fork in the Road.” The memo, which was sent to federal employees throughout the country, encouraged the employees to resign and gave them eight days to accept a payout. The memo implicitly threatened that those who did not agree to resign could be fired, noting that “the majority of federal agencies are likely to be downsized through restructurings, realignments, and reductions in force. These actions are likely to include the use of furloughs and the reclassification to at-will status for a substantial number of federal employees.”

As one FAA employee wrote in a letter to the Washington Post, “How do you think this letter would sit with anyone in any job? I will tell you that everyone at the Indianapolis Air Route Traffic Control Center was talking about that email Wednesday” [the day of the accident]. Only days earlier, Trump had fired the head of the Transportation Security Agency and all members of the Aviation Security Advisory Committee, froze hiring of new air traffic controllers, forced out the head of the FAA, and illegally fired the inspector general of the Department of Transportation (along with 17 other inspectors general), a non-partisan position with the sole responsibility of detecting “waste, fraud, and abuse” within federal agencies. Of course, rather than express concern for the victims or address any actual evidence of the accident’s causes, President Trump childishly blamed “DEI” (diversity, equity, and inclusion) on the accident. 

Unfortunately, the Trump/Musk effort to spur mass resignations is only one of many ongoing attacks on federal employees, as Trump seeks retribution against his perceived political enemies, which includes the professional civil service that he so often fantasizes constitute the “deep state.” Trump’s attack on the federal workforce is premised on the notion that the professional civil servants who perform the everyday work of government are either useless “bureaucrats” or people secretly aligned against him. He and Musk believe that they can get rid of most civil servants, regardless of their experience, dedication, and expertise, and permanently shrink the size of government without any consequences. He is gravely mistaken.

Hitting close to home for me is the recent firing of thirty career federal prosecutors by political hack Ed Martin who Trump appointed as the Interim U.S. Attorney for the District of Columbia. Martin has never been a prosecutor and most recently served as head of Phyllis Schlafly’s Eagle Forum (i.e., anti-feminist, anti-LGBTQ, ultraconservative). For the past four years he falsely promoted Trump’s claims that he won the 2020 election. Martin dismissed these career prosecutors because they helped successfully prosecute and convict some of the January 6th rioters. He also ordered an internal review of all AUSAs in the office who had any involvement in the 250 cases that charged rioters with obstructing an official proceeding of Congress (a charge that was approved by nearly all federal judges who ruled on the issue until the Supreme Court overturned them on highly questionable legal grounds). Martin has threatened subordinates who criticize his actions, and he is determined to spur an exodus of veteran prosecutors, which will only serve to threaten public safety and create a more docile office less likely to resist Trump’s avowed desire to seek legal retribution against his perceived enemies.

Equally troubling was Trump’s firing of dozens of top-level FBI officials, including the six most senior FBI executives and dozens of Special Agents in Charge of field offices across the country. He has also threatened to purge potentially thousands of agents who had anything to do with the investigations that led to his indictments in Florida and DC or who worked on the investigations resulting in the prosecution of the 1,600 January 6th rioters whom Trump disgracefully pardoned (including 600 violent rioters who attacked and assaulted police officers).

The threats to our democracy, national security, and ability of the federal government to perform the everyday tasks that help ensure the health and safety of the United States, are so vast that they cannot be overstated. As Stacey Young, an 18-year veteran of the Justice Department told the New York Times, “The animus coming from the administration is unprecedented. . . employees are terrified about the stability of their jobs. They’re worried about being fired or transferred or demoted or demeaned or doxed. . . the fear and confusion is palpable and may only grow.” Young, who resigned from her DOJ position, recently formed Justice Connection, a non-profit organization that provides guidance to current employees on legal issues, whistle-blowing, and digital and physical security, among other concerns. 

Along with many Republicans, Trump has long sought to shrink the size of the federal government and restructure it to serve his purposes. He seeks to impose loyalty tests and remove anyone who might disagree with him from the ranks of the civil service. He has reclassified Senior Executive Service employees, some of the most experienced and important members of the federal workforce, as “at will” employees serving at the discretion of the President, thus attempting to strip them of civil service protections. He is attempting to eliminate the appeal rights of a whole range of civil servants should they be fired for no justification. As Joe Davidson of the Washington Post noted, “due process for feds facing discipline or termination is meant to protect not just individual workers from unfair actions, but more broadly and more importantly to protect the public from a government staffed with partisans loyal to a political party or individual instead of to the nation and its Constitution.” Indeed, the harmful narrative that seeks to turn dedicated civil servants into villains threatens the ability of government to function and endangers our democracy.  

The attempted workforce purge is being led by the world’s richest man, Elon Musk, and the “Fork in the Road” email mirrors precisely what he did when he took over and nearly destroyed Twitter/X. Unfortunately, Musk, like Trump, has a vendetta against government regulators and knows nothing of the complexity of the federal government or the importance of maintaining an apolitical workforce that includes a wide-range of technical expertise and experience. Musk intends to ruin the federal government the same way he ruined Twitter – only now the people he is targeting do things that benefit ordinary Americans.

Close to 16% of our federal workforce consists of health care professionals – physicians, nurses, physical therapists, pharmacists, dental officers, veterinarians, and many other public health occupations. Many of these professionals work for the Department of Veterans Affairs, which runs our VA Hospitals, and an assortment of agencies within the Department of Health and Human Services. The federal government employs a significantly higher number of people with advanced degrees than does the private sector. This includes biomedical and cancer researchers at the National Institutes of Health, safety inspectors at the Food and Drug Administration, epidemiologists at the U.S. Centers for Disease Control, and doctors and nurses working for the Health Resources and Services Administration, which provides health care to people who are geographically isolated or economically vulnerable. 

Scientists at the Environmental Protection Agency collect data on air, water, and land quality, identify pollutants, assess environmental risks, and develop solutions to mitigate these risks. Toxicologists, chemists, and product safety engineers at the Consumer Product Safety Commission help keep children’s toys and all the consumer products we buy safe. Safety managers at the Occupational Safety and Health Administration identify workplace hazards, implement preventative measures, train employees, investigate accidents, and promote a culture of safety within the workplace. Nuclear safety regulators have kept our nuclear energy facilities free of fatalities since 1961. The Social Security Administration and the Center for Medicare and Medicaid Services facilitate the services that allow millions of Americans to afford the necessities of life (72 million Americans receive Medicaid; 68 million receive Medicare; and 67 million receive Social Security). The Federal Emergency Management Administration responds to natural disasters. The list goes on and on. 

And it is not only people in the United States who are badly impacted by the Trump/Musk purges. Musk and Trump have set their sights on career staffers at the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID), approximately one hundred of whom were suspended, with more severe personnel and funding cuts expected. President John F. Kennedy formed USAID in November 1961 to place all foreign aid functions under one roof. Since then, the agency has provided desperately needed and life-saving humanitarian assistance to the world’s poorest countries. The work it does supports many nonprofit organizations and enhances the reputation of the United States around the world. USAID provides disaster relief, health services, anti-poverty funding, and technical assistance on a host of issues, and promotes democracy and civil society efforts in Asia, Africa, Latin America, the Middle East, and Eastern Europe. More than three million lives are saved annually through the USAID Immunization Program.

USAID was an instrumental weapon in fighting the Cold War and has more recently helped stem the rising influence of China, which has been increasingly advancing its foreign aid efforts in the developing world. But Chairman Mao, I mean Musk, who has strong financial ties with China, has said that USAID is a “criminal organization” (of course, providing no evidence) and that it is “time for it to die.” Meanwhile, according to the USA Today, “Field hospitals in Thai refugee camps, landmine clearance in war zones, and drugs to treat millions suffering from diseases such as HIV are among the programs at risk of elimination.”

Efforts to enact good faith reforms and improve how efficiently the federal government is managed are always welcome. But it is the job of Congress to enact a budget and appropriate funds, and to approve federal programs. It is an essential function of the democratic process, one that the framers of the Constitution did not delegate to the President, and certainly not to an unelected vengeful billionaire with no security clearance, Congressional vetting, or any government experience. 

Most of the day-to-day work of the federal government is performed by career civil servants who are motivated not by politics, money, or fame but by public interest. When things work well, it is because of the committed and experienced professionals in our federal agencies. Their work is invisible to most people. But if no one prevents Trump and Musk from breaking things just for the hell of it, the damage to our economy, our society, and our way of life, will be immense and irreversible. As Ben Raderstorf of Protect Democracy writes: 

We should aim to make government work better — find ways to recruit more talent; better retain star performers; improve ways of operating and delivering services; enhance transparency and responsiveness. All of those things would make us safer.

That’s not what Trump’s team is doing with the civil service; they are instead working to "dismantle” it because it might stand in the way of their ability to consolidate power. That makes us less safe.

It also makes us much less democratic.

Preaching Truth to Power

In the 1970s, when my dad was Bishop of the New Jersey Lutheran Synod, and a decade later when he was senior pastor of a Lutheran church in northern Virginia that included high-level government officials, he and I talked often about the proper role of the Church in society. Because my dad had to write and preach sermons almost every Sunday, our conversations were mostly about the proper role of the clergy—pastor, priest, rabbi—in addressing issues of public import. When the teachings of one’s faith contradict the established political and social order, to what extent should a sermon risk offending people in power, including wealthy and influential members of the congregation? 

As both a bishop and a parish pastor, my dad knew personally the pressures facing clergy in congregations around the country. He understood the trouble that can arise when a pastor speaks powerfully on a controversial topic or engages in acts of civil disobedience or protest on behalf of a moral cause. When he served in the New Jersey Lutheran Synod (1968-1978), my dad defended several pastors who came under fire in their congregations for publicly protesting or speaking out against the Vietnam War. One pastor in Camden was arrested for publicly burning draft cards. My dad helped a youth leader and others apply for conscientious objector status on religious grounds to avoid the draft. When I was in law school during the Reagan administration, my dad contended frequently with when and how far he should push in addressing what he believed at the time were morally troubling actions of the Reagan administration. This was not a theoretical question, as his congregation included six members of Congress, some of whom strongly supported Reagan, and others who worked for the administration. 

Of course, it was easy for me, sitting in the cheap seats, to say, “Dad, what good is the Church if it does not provide moral leadership on public affairs? If the leaders of the Church do not have the courage to speak out on issues of war and peace, poverty and inequality, discrimination and bigotry, then who will?” I remember the look on my dad’s face during these conversations, a look of despair and conflict. He agreed with me in principle, but said it was complicated and not as easy as it sounds. He was right, of course. Leaders of all professions contend with these concerns all the time. University presidents, for example, are expected to provide bold leadership and guidance to the university community in addressing the complex issues confronting society. But often when they do, they risk offending powerful donors and alumni. 

My dad understood his obligation, as the spiritual leader and public face of his congregation, to speak truth to power and provide sincere guidance based on his understanding of the religious teachings of his faith. He knew it was important to relate those teachings to the issues and concerns of the congregation, even if his views as pastor might offend his congregants. He occasionally had members leave his congregations over the years based on something he said in a sermon. Shortly after my dad became pastor of the northern Virginia church, a visiting Supreme Court Justice (who at the time was one of the most conservative members of the Court) politely told my dad after the service that this was not the right congregation for him. It was just as well. But anyone who thinks it is easy to maintain unity at a church or synagogue while also providing bold and courageous leadership on controversial topics, at least without a forward thinking and supportive congregation, is mistaken.

Last week, the Right Reverend Mariann Edgar Budde, Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington, delivered a soft spoken, yet powerful sermon at the Washington National Cathedral in the presence of President Trump and a host of Washington power brokers. Presiding over a national prayer service, Bishop Budde preached compassionately on the theme of national unity, “the kind of unity that fosters community across diversity and division, a unity that serves the common good.” 

She referenced the Sermon on the Mount and reminded those present that Jesus exhorted his followers “to love not only our neighbors, but to love our enemies, to pray for those who persecute us, to be merciful as God is merciful; to forgive others who forgive us.” This love includes welcoming the outcasts and strangers among us; welcoming the poor, the weak, and the powerless.

She decried “the culture of contempt that has become normalized in this country and threatens to destroy us.” And she spoke about three important foundations of national unity. The first is “honoring the inherent dignity of every human being,” which in public debate “means refusing to mock or discount or demonize those with whom we differ.” The second is “honesty, in both private conversation and public discourse,” which requires that we “speak the truth, even when, especially when, it costs us.” The third is “humility” because “we are most dangerous to ourselves and others when we are persuaded without a doubt that we are absolutely right and someone else is absolutely wrong.”

Acknowledging that unity is not easy in times of division, Bishop Budde implored President Trump, who was seated only a few feet away, to have “mercy” on immigrants and the L.G.B.T.Q. community, people who stand to be disproportionately impacted by the president’s executive orders and his administration’s policies.

Let me make one final plea, Mr. President. Millions have put their trust in you, and as you told the nation yesterday, you felt the providential hand of a loving God. In the name of our God, I ask you to have mercy upon the people in our country who are scared now. There are gay, lesbian, and transgender children in Democratic, Republican, and independent families, some who fear for their lives. And the people who pick our crops and clean our office buildings, who labor in poultry farms and meatpacking plants, who wash the dishes after we eat in restaurants and work the night shifts in hospitals. They may not be citizens or have the proper documentation, but the vast majority of immigrants are not criminals. 

… I ask you to have mercy, Mr. President, on those in our communities whose children fear that their parents will be taken away, and that you help those who are fleeing war zones and persecution in their own lands to find compassion and welcome here. Our God teaches us that we are to be merciful to the stranger, for we were all once strangers in this land. May God grant us the strength and courage to honor the dignity of every human being, to speak the truth to one another in love, and walk humbly with each other and our God, for the good of all people . . . in this nation and the world.

At a time when political divisions threaten to rip apart the moral foundation of the nation, and when the most vulnerable among us are genuinely afraid for the country’s direction, Bishop Budde simply asked that the nation’s leaders respect our differences, treat people with dignity, speak honestly and with humility, and exercise mercy. These are not radical concepts in a faith founded on concepts of love, forgiveness, and compassion. Any person of faith would have had no issues with the bishop’s message.

It was therefore no surprise that Trump immediately derided the sermon in a post on Truth Social and called Bishop Budde a “Radical Left hard line Trump hater.” He demanded an apology and called the female bishop “nasty” and “not smart” – his favorite insults for women who dare challenge him or question the wisdom of his policies (Vice President Harris of course received the same petulant treatment). Other Trump supporters followed suit, sending insulting and vitriolic messages to the bishop.

Despite their self-proclaimed “Christian” credentials, Trump and his allies who verbally attacked the bishop (Republican Congressman Mike Collins absurdly said Bishop Budde should be deported) only demonstrated that they are profoundly ignorant of their own faith.

The fear to which Bishop Budde spoke is genuine. I know from conversations with my younger daughter and other LGBTQ people with whom I have spoken that many in the LGBTQ community fear that their recently won legal rights and protections may soon be reversed, from protections against discrimination and the right to marry and adopt children. Hopefully, this fear will prove to be unwarranted, but it is real and well-grounded now. And the transgender community, the most vulnerable of United States citizens today, feels that they are being written out of American life, and as of this week derision of their status is officially endorsed in the halls of power. This will  inevitably lead to attacks on their physical safety and an escalation in teen suicides.

It goes without saying that millions of immigrant families who have built meaningful and productive lives in the United States are genuinely afraid that Trump’s promise to implement mass deportations will destroy their lives and break up their families. His recent executive orders to immediately halt the refugee resettlement program and stop those facing political and religious persecution from entering the country, and to end birthright citizenship, a bedrock principle embedded in the Constitution, are not the actions of a compassionate, merciful, or even well-informed president. And his planned mass evictions of immigrants will deprive millions of children and their families with any prospect of dignity and deprive American businesses of access to hard working and law-abiding employees who perform much of the labor American citizens refuse to do. It is indeed important to protect our borders but there have been many bipartisan legislative solutions rejected by Trump that would more equitably balance border security with providing a pathway to citizenship for the millions of undocumented immigrants who have built productive and meaningful lives in this country and who want nothing more than to be fully accountable, patriotic citizens.

As my friend the late Rev. John Steinbruck, a Lutheran pastor who championed the church as a place of refuge where everyone was welcome, told me a few years before he died, many self-proclaimed Christians in the United States misuse and distort their own religious teachings. “We mix religion and patriotism very shrewdly,” he said. “Our society uses the stamp of Jesus to sanctify a system based on inequalities and military might.” He insisted the purpose of the Church (and all religions) is not to make us feel good, but to spur us into action to make the world more just; to impose God’s vision of shalom and justice on Earth. 

“The face of God is in every human being,” he said. “Every human life possesses dignity and demands reverence.” These concepts are the heart of Christianity and Judaism. If Trump expected to hear a different message in Bishop Budde’s sermon last Tuesday, then shame on him. Trump was legitimately elected president and has the right to implement his policies that do not run afoul of the constitution. But it might serve him well to overcome his pettiness and open his heart and mind to the words of thoughtful and compassionate spiritual leaders who know something about the faith he claims to follow. 

 

Wrestling with God in an Age of Doubt

 

When he taught at Union Theological Seminary in the 1960s, the great Jewish theologian Abraham Joshua Heschel said, “If you want to have a well-attended lecture, discuss God and faith.” Since the beginning of human existence, we have longed for a deeper understanding of life, our place in the world and our relationship to the universe, seeking answers to the Big Questions: Does God exist? Why are we here? What is our purpose?

For all my life, I have professed a belief in God, even as I have struggled to understand the nature of God and why God often seems non-existent in a troubled world. Is my belief in God an irrational means of fulfilling an emotional need borne in childhood, or is there really some higher power that allows me to feel on rare occasions God’s presence? 

I was born the son of a Lutheran minister and grew up with an unquestioning acceptance of the teachings of my mainline Protestant faith. In the four decades since, my spiritual journey evolved into a deep affection for liberal Judaism and other more humanistic traditions. The more I study religion and history, the more I am convinced that the world’s many different religious expressions represent humanity’s imperfect attempt to understand God, the universe, and our purpose in life. And yet, I remain conflicted about religion and filled with doubt, about God and the relevance of religion in modern times. 

My confusion may have less to do with God than with humankind’s inability to satisfactorily explain the nature of God in an imperfect world. It may also be due to the propensity of religious institutions to insist on doctrinal certitudes that do not stand the test of time. I am frustrated by how often biblical literalism and religious fundamentalism everywhere drown out the gentler voices of religious reason and compassion. I am equally frustrated by secular society’s failure to appreciate the diversity and beauty of religious expression, and the compelling human need for God, purpose and meaning. 

This past November, I had a thoughtful discussion with my brother-in-law Art who, like many in my wife’s family, are proud secular Jews generally skeptical of formal religious practices. Art exemplifies the rational man of modern times. He is persuaded only by facts, reason, and evidence. “I’m curious about your belief in God,” he stated, non-judgmentally, while I sipped a glass of wine on the outside deck of their Florida condominium. Art was interested in learning why I believe religion continues to have relevance in modern times and why I continue to hold, if not religious convictions, at least a spiritual belief in a higher power. Reminiscent of Heschel’s seminary class, Art wanted to talk about God and faith. 

The most difficult problem for me in explaining why I believe in God starts with language. First, what do we mean by God? Are human beings really created in the image of God, as Judaism and Christianity traditionally teach, or is God a force of nature that humans are incapable of describing or fully understanding? Second, if God exists, why is there suffering and cruelty in the world? What kind of God would allow the devastation of wars, genocide, and other human atrocities? How can one believe in God after the Holocaust and Hiroshima? The questions are endless.

I explained to Art that, from my vantage point, a belief in God in no way conflicts with scientific knowledge and advancement. Religion has nothing to fear from science, as Heschel’s writings explain. Human beings are simply incapable of fully understanding God, whom Heschel describes as “ineffable” or beyond description. Heschel explains that all religious awareness and insight is rooted in “wonder” and “radical amazement.” Thus, evidence of God’s existence is all around us, in the reality and wonder of the universe and the miracle of life itself. 

Art was unmoved. “All of the things you mention,” he countered, “life, the universe, and our surroundings, have scientific origins and explanations.”

“Maybe so,” I said, “but this does not disprove God.” I pointed out that most rational, thoughtful people of faith believe that scientific knowledge, in the words of Heschel, “extends rather than limits the scope of the ineffable, and our radical amazement is enhanced rather than reduced by the advancement of knowledge.” Indeed, two things can be true simultaneously: that which we can measure, quantify, and prove objectively, and that which we experience on a deeper, spiritual level.

“I cannot prove the existence of God,” I said, “any more than someone can prove that God does not exist.” Nevertheless, as I read to Art from my 2009 essay (“In Defense of God: Faith in an Age of Unbelief”):

[W]hen I walk among the stars; when I stare at the moon on a warm summer evening; when I acknowledge the beautiful life presence of my two daughters, I experience God’s presence. When I observe the joy in a young child's heart over the embrace of a grandparent; when I watch the trees sway back and forth on a breezy fall day and feel the moistness of the ocean at my feet; when I experience all of these things, and the multitude of ordinary everyday events, I see, first-hand, evidence of God’s existence.

Art remained unconvinced. I understand. Clearly I am incapable of expressing in language what can only be experienced on a deeper, cosmic level. I suggested that the question of God’s existence is not much different than whether love exists, or the emotional power of music and poetry. Although we try to describe the warmth, passion, and intensity we feel from art and music, we cannot quantify them or prove they are real any more than we can prove that sensing God’s presence is real. 

Art countered that psychology and science provide better and more rational explanations for humankind’s emotional dependency on religion and a belief in God. “Maybe so,” I said. But evidence of God’s existence is all around if people are willing, as Heschel suggests, to open their hearts and minds to the wonder and radical amazement of our lives. The world, the vastness of the universe, the intricacies of life itself—all are so momentous that it seems irrational not to believe in some form of infinite force we call God, which created the universe and set everything in motion. Art’s facial expression revealed that I had not moved the needle for him. 

Fundamentally, I think the best I can do is accept that I am conflicted, caught between faith and rational thought. Perhaps this is what it means to be human. To embrace that doubt is a necessary component of a life that remains open to the advancement of human and scientific knowledge and to the mysterious wonder of the universe. 

If we submit everything to reason our religion will be left with nothing mysterious or supernatural. If we offend the principles of reason our religion will be absurd and ridiculous . . . There are two equally dangerous extremes: to exclude reason, to admit nothing but reason. – Blaise Pascal, Pensées (“Thoughts”) [circa 1660]

*     *    *    *

Many people understandably have given up on the idea of God because there is little evidence of God’s presence in the harsh and cruel world in which we live. How do we relate to a God that allows so much suffering and destruction in the world? It is a question to which I must turn to wiser sages for answers.

In The Triumph of Life: A Narrative Theology of Judaism, Rabbi Irving Greenberg recounted that, while at Tel Aviv University in 1961, his faith was shattered when he immersed himself into the evidence and accounts of the Holocaust. Greenberg could not comprehend how, less than two decades earlier, “such a cruel and catastrophic fate could have been inflicted . . . without any Divine intervention to stop it. . . . If the world was ultimately to live by a moral order, how could God have not intervened?” 

Rabbi Greenberg began a lifelong journey to understand whether religion, including the modern Orthodox Judaism of his upbringing, “had lost all credibility.” He came to believe that the Holocaust happened because the victims were powerless and because the local populations and existing religious order proved incapable of responding to and preventing the atrocities. Indeed, as Greenberg discovered, some people with no faith were more capable than religious people to understand and respond to the Holocaust.

The philosopher Albert Camus, an atheist, described himself yearning and praying in vain for a word from the pope opposing the Final Solution. He expressed his disappointment and disillusion on realizing that being Christian did not make people more likely to support the Resistance. If the Nazis could see themselves as people of faith and see God as integral to their project, if an atheist could understand the absolute need to oppose the horrors of the Final Solution while the pope himself could ignore it, then something must have been wrong with inherited approaches to religion.

Greenberg concluded that we needed a new way of understanding the nature of God and humanity’s relationship with God. After study and reflection, he came to believe that, while God is deeply connected and concerned for humanity, bad things happen because God gave human beings free will and God’s presence is hidden and power self-limited. During the Holocaust, “God was neither absent nor indifferent.” But it is only through human agency, and by humans acting in covenant with God—through acts of kindness, love, and grace—that God’s presence can be felt in this world. It was humanity, not God, that was absent during the Holocaust.

All of us have a conscience, the capacity for love, and the ability to build, create, and uphold life. Thus, every person can repair the world. “Rather than relate to the Divine out of fear, incapacity, or childlike dependency,” wrote Greenberg, “we are to seek God out of our capacity and free will and relate to God out of love and a sense of common cause.” 

Decades before Greenberg, in God in Search of Man: A Philosophy of Judaism, Abraham Joshua Heschel similarly professed that God is in search of human partners to participate in the work of redeeming the world. This, according to Heschel, is the fundamental tenet of a covenant between God and humanity. Heschel believed that God is present in the world but hidden from human perception. “Our task is to bring God back in the world. . . . To have faith is to reveal what is concealed.” Tragically, according to Heschel, “the failure of perception, the inability to apprehend [God] directly is the sad paradox of our religious existence.” 

I appreciate Heschel’s notion of a God who is always present but hidden, waiting in the wings for humanity to make space for and be receptive to God’s revealed presence; to understand that life is a gift, and that God demands something of all of us. Humankind’s thirst for power and material wellbeing, its self-centeredness and indifference to the suffering of others, is our undoing. That God granted us free will and unlimited freedom, and that God does not actively intervene in the world, does not mean there is no God, only that humanity has squandered God’s gift of life. 

But even Greenberg and Heschel cannot fully resolve the tenuous nature of faith itself. To believe in God requires a belief in an unknowable and hidden presence. While concepts like “free will” and a “covenant” between God and humanity to repair the world may explain how God can exist despite untold suffering and despair, Greenberg and Heschel leave unresolved many remaining questions. When does God’s hiddenness become indistinguishable from abandonment? If God’s power is self-limited to allow for human free will, are there no depths of human destruction and cruelty that would compel a God of decency and love to intervene? 

In the end, on whether God continues to be alive and present in the world, and to wherein lies our fate, I must agree with the 17th Century French mathematician, philosopher, and Catholic theologian Blaise Pascal:

Just as I do not know where I came from, so I do not know where I am going. All I know is that when I leave this world I shall fall forever into oblivion, or into the hands of [God], without knowing which of the two will be my lot for eternity. Such is my state of mind, full of weakness and uncertainty. The only conclusion I can draw from all this is that I must pass my days without a thought of trying to find out what is going to happen to me.