The Great Debate About the Religious Left
Dear Reader,
You might have missed it if you weren’t on Twitter over the weekend, but people got very upset when Liz Bruenig, a Christian on the Left, seemed to some to suggest the Religious Left does not exist. The context here is important, so here’s the tweet.
Now, if Liz’s tweet was intended to mean that there are no active religious progressives in politics (that’s not what she means, for obvious reasons we’ll get to), then she’d be wrong. But that interpretation leads to her tweet being so obviously wrong that it’s smart to think about whether that’s what she means at all.
A couple bits of context here:
Liz has been one of the most forceful voices insisting on the place of religious people on the left. This is not even a new position, but a longstanding one. When I met Liz years ago when she was a student at Cambridge she was talking and writing about this. She wrote in 2019 as a columnist for The Washington Post a column with the headline “Talk of a rising religious left is unfounded. It already exists.” Anyone who is actually interested in institutional power and systemic change, those who have actually been involved with Religious Left at an institutional level and not just part of the post-Trump social media brigade, will recognize the merit and reality of Liz’s argument,.
Jill Filipovic is not a fan of the Religious Left, and that’s evident in her tweet. And Jill’s tweet is the context for what Liz said. Jill suggested “socialist-friendly” Catholicism had become “embraced on the left” so much so that it was “to the detriment of feminism.” This is not the time or place to break down all of the ways in which that statement is historically ignorant, inherently anti-Catholic and laughable considering the current state of the progressive movement, but it is all of those things. The most important thing to point out is that it is Jill’s tweet, not Liz’s, which actually expresses opposition to the Religious Left.
Sadly, I can’t say I was surprised by the response from some (not all!) progressive religious folks on Twitter, and that was, of course, to tweet how offended they were by Liz, while completely ignoring Filipovic’s tweet that actually sought to undermine and argue against their influence. This is not new for Filipovic, who tweeted in November 2019 that “Religion can do a lot of good for individuals. But a ‘religious left’ fundamentally undermines necessary aspects of any left I would want to be a part of.”
It was actually a good picture of the problem Liz was speaking to in her tweet. The specific claim Liz was making, I think, is that it’s foolish to suggest there is a movement of leftist Catholics robust and coordinated enough to take over or provide a real challenge to the power structures of the progressive movement or Democratic Party, particularly in the scope of history. One could argue Catholics are at their weakest position politically today than they have been in about a century. If Filipovic does in fact have a problem with Catholics’ role in politics today, then she has a problem with Catholics’ role in American life over the last hundred years. And if her paranoia about Catholics extends that far back, then she should trade in her membership in the Democratic Party for one in the Know-Nothing Party.
But I also took Liz to be making a point about the relative weakness of the Religious Left as compared to the Religious Right (and from here on I’ll just speak for myself). And, I hate to break it to folks, but this is an undeniable fact. I’ve been in the room with these “leaders of the Religious Left,” and guess what they talk about when they are behind closed doors? Their weakness relative to the Religious Right. That’s central to how they ask for money. It’s key to understanding their conception of themselves and their role in this country. A major, common critique from the Religious Left is that the Religious Right gets too much of the attention from media, and that Republicans aren’t the only, or even the best, party for people of faith.
This point is so obvious—even if it was initially ignored so that people could act like the crux of the matter here is whether Rev. Barber is a fiction or not—that the conversation quickly moved to another misguided argument, and that is that by suggesting the Religious Left was not a major, consistently decision-changing force in Democratic politics, you’re holding them to a standard of “being like the Religious Right.”
Look, if the Religious Left wants to be respected as an independent force on the national political scene (what this entire debate is about, in my reading), then yes, it does have to be able to affect political decisionmakers in a way that is identifiable. That does not necessarily mean they have to be like the Religious Right in any way other than just that: the ability to affect and influence political decisionmakers on a consistent basis.
The way some people reacted to the Twitter scuffle between Liz and Jill is actually a good picture of why the Religious Left has trouble being identified as the Religious Left: its solidarity is often primarily with the Left, not with the “Religious.” I discuss this in a bit of analysis in the recent report I co-authored, which was informed by interviews with several leaders who would be considered part of the Religious Left. Here’s an excerpt:
…it might be worth considering that both conservative and progressive Christians could learn from one another. For instance, a conservative Christian might note that progressive Christians’ public advocacy work is often part of a larger interfaith or secular coalition. Even though progressive Christians often have distinctly Christian motivations for their political activism, it is difficult for media, politicians, and the general public to identify them if activists do not share their religious motivations clearly and explicitly.
To elaborate on this point further, what is generally true about the Religious Left is that it is far more likely to be ecumenical, and far more likely to be comfortable being a part of a broader coalition that is not necessarily defined by its faith. So when they are a part of progressive coalition that instigates change, it is the progressive coalition that can credibly claim credit, not the Religious Left. The other way the Religious Left has really instigated change recently is in broad faith coalitions, such as the Circle of Protection, but then, of course, the credit goes to the faith community broadly, rather than the Religious Left as a distinct force.
Now I’ve made clear on the Faith 2020 podcast and elsewhere that Rev. Barber has shown an impressive ability to gain the ear of Democrats during this primary, in particular. But the fact that what Rev. Barber has achieved is so remarkable kind of underlines the point. Rev. Barber was able to get Democrats to come to his forum and speak about poverty explicitly, which has not always been the case. But after that forum, on my own podcast, Rev. Barber expressed his concern that the promises made at that forum weren’t necessarily consistent with the rest of the candidates’ campaigns.
I’ve also been clear, and this was a point of contention related to Liz’s tweet as well, that the Black Church is vital in this country, and it’s vital politically to the Democratic Party. There is increasing concern within the Black Church, however, that progressives value the “Black,” but not so much the “Church.” It’s a common trope among clergy that Democrats show up only around election time. RNS’ Jack Jenkins and AP’s Elana Schor reported on how “activism cuts into the political might of SC black church.”
Much more could be said, and we cover these dynamics significantly here at the newsletter, but here’s my basic summary: There are rumblings of promise on the Religious Left, but this is not the first time there has been talk about a Religious Left resurgence. Institutionally, they have a way to go, should they decide a specifically religious movement in our politics is what they want to build…and the Religious Left knows this more than anyone.
I want to make two more points.
First, it also doesn’t help that many actors in the Religious Left do not want to be identified as part of the Religious Left. Several people snarkily replied to Liz by reminding her Rev. Barber exists in the world…
…but Rev. Barber has repeatedly insisted that he is not a part of the Religious Left.
It also works the other way. Increasingly, groups with progressive religious advocacy groups have chosen not to hire, organize or even represent themselves on an exclusively or specifically religious basis. They use work-around language such as “historically faith-rooted,” a kind of change made to make their organizations and efforts more inclusive to those who do not share their faith. Again, this might be politically smart—it might even be wise in a broader sense—but it does sacrifice your ability to be treated as a distinctly, observably religious actor. If faith is not essential to how you identify your activism, you can’t then make it necessary in how others identify your activism depending on the context.
My good friend, Tyler, has some good insights in this Twitter thread that starts with this tweet:
And that leads me to my second point: what has been assumed by just about everyone in this debate is that the Religious Right is an observably religious movement, and it’s the Religious Left that has to prove their claim to religious-motivation. The last few years, at least, ought to lead us to question that. The Religious Right is not the standard here. Faith claims that just a decade ago were supposed to be essential to their political activism have now been completely discarded for the sake of political power and a political coalition in which they can hardly be said to be in the driver’s seat. Look at how many of the Religious Right figures who, for their own benefit, have sidled up to Trump only after making clear during the Republican primary that he was not their first, second or sixteenth choice.
Liz was right: the Religious Left is not presently an indispensable, decision-altering part of the progressive coalition. It does not exist in that way. The Religious Right exists, alright, but it might not quite exist as we imagine it. Its commitment to the “Right” over the “Religious” becomes more apparent by the day. Let that be a warning.
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