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People’s mad dash to frame their preferred narrative immediately after a major news story breaks is not a new phenomenon, though technology and social media certainly have boosted the speed at which this happens. Consider how quickly many of us saw the disturbing videos of Charlie Kirk’s assassination last year, and then heard theories as to who did it and why. The race to make sense of sudden events, or even the stories that are slower to develop, is dizzying. Yet we’re wired to attempt to make sense of it all, so we strive on.
That bad actors eschew truth (both the concrete facts on the ground and the larger reality) for the sake of their preferred narratives is bad. But, as an evangelical Christian, I am particularly discouraged when fellow believers do the same—rushing to prove (or serve) certain narratives before ascertaining the truth—when we say truth is so important to us. So often, this amounts to bearing false witness against our neighbors.
Avoiding that is the focus of O. Alan Noble’s essay in this week’s Dispatch Faith, which draws on two classical virtues.
Truth and Its Consequences
What are we to do with the fact that Christians, like myself, claim to believe in what pastor-theologian Francis Schaeffer once called “true truth” and yet seem to be no less likely to fall into the traps of political tribal thinking and even conspiracy theories? On the one hand, many evangelicals like myself were raised to believe in “absolute truth” and were warned against threats of creeping secular “relativism” and “postmodernism.” But on the other hand, Christians (of all political persuasions) regularly promote ideologically driven propaganda, misinformation, conspiracy theories, and untruths.
In fact, according to one survey by the American Enterprise Institute, white evangelical Republicans are more likely than nonevangelical Republicans to believe a host of conspiracies, including something as farcical as the QAnon conspiracies. We claim to believe that God defines the truth, yet we play so fast and loose with the truth, allowing our commitment to political tribes and cultural movement—and even fears—to drive our sense of what is true. As a result, rather than being models of prudence and temperance in our public speech, Christians are often indistinct from the world. We buy into the same conspiracies, rush to the same judgements, follow the same fears and agendas as everyone surrounding us.
What would it look like to act differently, both in the wake of major, divisive news stories and in the mundanity of everyday interactions?
Stories We Think You’ll Like
Consider the typical play-by-play: A shooting happens, we come to a conclusion about the cultural and political meaningof the shooting before the facts are in, and we begin sharing any bit of information we see that confirmsour prior conclusion as soon as we see them, whether or not they are true truth, as Schaeffer would say. (And now AI-generated images can appear to confirm our views or at least make the “truth” open to interpretation.) Then as facts do come out, we either deny them if they don’t agree with our preconceived conclusion, ignore them and distract ourselves, or we find some conspiratorial explanation of our correctness. But rarely will any of us admit that we were wrong to jump to a conclusion.
The reason anyone does this is that we have bought into a preconceived cultural or political vision of the world and are choosing to interpret everything through that lens. Everything is part of an agenda: Our Agenda or Their Agenda. And to admit you are wrong is more than just to humble yourself, it’s a blow to the Agenda. And we can’t allow the Agenda to be harmed because the Agenda is a way of explaining the world, a way of making moral order of our society, of judging right and wrong, of deciding who the bad guys are, of giving us hope for the future, of understanding why everything is a mess right now and how we can fix it. It’s important to have a cultural/political vision of the common good, but when that vision becomes an all-encompassing agenda that runs over human values and divine laws and even truth, it is no longer for the common good.
Of course, Christians are far from the only ones acting irresponsibly in this way. In our digital and divided age, many people are so captured by ideologies that they disregard truth for the sake of their own conclusions. But what is particularly egregious is that we Christians claim to have a high view of truth. We believe that truth is God’s reality (not our own) that we must conform to. When we don’t, we harm ourselves, our neighbor, and creation, and we separate ourselves from God. That’s fundamentally what lies do: They are a breaking of the world, an undoing of creation and order itself. But truth is the way of life. It allows us to build each other up through moments of sincerity, to create societies and culture through a shared sense of reality, and to seek justice through a clear understanding of the past. To love the truth is to love God and your neighbor.
All this means we must take into account the reality that people have reasons for doubting official narratives and questioning authorities. Whether you have objections to the way the state handled the COVID-19 pandemic or the Alex Pretti shooting, there are reasons to question whether authorities are telling us the truth—doing so does not make you a conspiracy theorist.
But abandoning truth and reason does.
Nor should we implicitly trust narratives given to us by the news media. Although it is problematic to speak of the “media” as a unified force in an age when it is so diverse (The Dispatch being one example), there have been plenty of examples of news reports that were wrong, stories that went nowhere, or allegations that were false. Some of this is just the reality of reporting. Some of this is due to biases creeping into newsrooms. But it’s not wrong to question a news story if you have good reason to do so.
So what’s the alternative to giving into tribal political thoughts and conspiracy theories? Two virtues: prudence and temperance. Cultivating these two virtues doesn’t inoculate us from falsehood, because we are still fallen and will make mistakes. But doing so does incline us away from habits of self-deception, bias, and the propaganda promoted around us.
Prudence.
Prudence is practical wisdom, the art of knowing what to do, of making a decision, in a given situation. In this case, we’re practicing prudence by knowing when to believe something, speak publicly, or share a story online. Often what we struggle with online is knowing how to decide whether something is trustworthy or true or not, and the virtue of prudence can help.
Prudence involves a number of steps, as I outline in my book, To Live Well: Practical Wisdom for Moving Through Chaotic Times and as described by philosopher Josef Pieper. First, you survey the reality of a situation. Second, you recognize what the good is. Third, you deliberate, and fourth, you decide and act. In our day-to-day lives, we often skip the first three steps and go to the fourth. We move from noticing a story in the news or online to believing it or not believing it, as the case may be, then sharing it with commentary. But prudence demands we first survey reality. Which means that we look into the truth of the matter. What’s really going on? What are the facts? What do you actually know? Maybe if you can’t answer those questions, you shouldn’t confidently believe it and share it—online or otherwise.
Notice that we are not asking how this information fits with our preconceived biases or our agenda. We’re looking at reality—which we Christians believe to be God’s reality—however that unfolds. If it turns out that my political party looks bad, so be it. If it turns out that my denomination looks bad, so be it. Reality is what matters.
We also usually skip the second step: recognizing the good. The good is what would be ultimately good in a given situation. In trying to decide what to believe about a news event, the good might be that you could be a good citizen and love your neighbor well by advocating for justice. That’s different from the “good” that often motivates us online: the desire to be seen advocating, the desire to be known as someone pushing an agenda, or the desire to belong to a certain political group. Slowing down and recognizing the good requires us to reevaluate our motives.
We skip the third step, deliberation, because we are usually pressed for time. Whatever the issue is, it is important right now. It’s unfolding online immediately. Everyone must make their voice heard now or else. And so we fail to stop and think about what is true. Deliberation forces us to slow down and consider the relationship between reality and the good and what we should do. Should we believe this story? Should we speak out on this issue? Is this the truth? Should we look for more information to verify this first?
But we can’t stay in deliberation forever. Finally, we must decide what to do and act. The prudent person looks at a situation and decides what to do and does it with courage (another virtue). There are times when it is important to speak out and have your voice heard. When that time comes, it is important to do so with courage and conviction, but also with truth.
Temperance.
Temperance concerns an inner order of the self. On the issue of truth and speech, temperance helps us know when to speak and when to hold our tongues.
Social media algorithms pressure us to say something now. But temperance would have us order ourselves toward what is good. Sometimes you’ll see people say online that if you don’t say something about an event, then you are complicit with whoever they believe the bad guys to be. But a virtuous way of thinking about speech is that sometimes it is better to stay quiet and wait for facts to unfold before speaking out. The same is true with belief: Sometimes it’s better to wait to believe something until you understand more.
Temperance also refers to our emotions. So many people online want to work us up with fear or pity or anger. Keeping an inner order means not allowing your emotions to steer the ship of your mind as you are confronted with information. Instead, your lodestar is the good. And we Christians believe the good is God.
All of us are called to know the truth and love it. And loving the truth means seeking it with our whole hearts. The virtues of prudence and temperance can form us and shape our affections toward what is real and true, what many of us evangelicals were raised to believe are defining qualities of our faith. We will still occasionally fall prey to error and propaganda. It’s everywhere and we are vulnerable creatures. But there’s grace for that.
More Sunday Reads
- In Mosaic magazine, scholar Ruth R. Wisse reflects on the Jewish call not to despair, and its resonance both for Jews today and throughout history, including in World War II-era Warsaw. “[Poet H.] Leivick realized this Gvald was a uniquely Jewish call from the depths, de profundis, or, in the original Hebrew of the Psalm 130, Mi-ma’amakim. The German Gewalt, meaning force or violence, had been appropriated by Yiddish as an alarm and call for help. Leivick turned it into a national imperative. But who in the ghetto had come up with this strange call to arms? This outcry originated with the hasidic master, Rabbi Nahman of Bratslav, dead since 1810. … Rabbi Nahman at the turn of the 18th century had also witnessed an invasion—of hostile ideas. The European Enlightenment and its Jewish form, the Haskalah, severely challenged his Jewish faith. Spinoza’s critique from the inside, Voltaire’s attack on religion from the outside, made it hard to cherish the God of Israel and to place one’s trust in His covenant when there seemed to be little contemporary evidence of His presence. Rationalist skepticism tested some of the brightest Jews, including Nahman himself, a creative thinker with an inquiring mind. Responding to the challenge, he began to create new forms of teaching, framing his inner struggles in storytelling that engaged emotions rather than appealing to intellect alone. His tales and teachings had a profound influence on Yiddish and Hebrew writers and thinkers, including many in that ghetto. The Warsaw resistance took its slogan from the fighting faith of Rabbi Nahman. To resist the Nazis and take up arms in such an unequal fight, one had first to resist the inner temptation of surrender. The fight against despondency and resignation was more primal than self-defense: it was the essential precondition for self-defense.”
- In the ongoing conversations about whether there’s a religious revival going on in the U.S., journalist Maggie Phillips writes in Arc that while some churches are seeing upticks particularly among young people, and the rise of the “nones” seems to have slowed, calling all this a revival misses the mark. “In fairness, numbers showing both Christianity’s steady decline and the exponential growth of the religiously unaffiliated ‘nones’ seem to have slowed, or even halted, for now. But the same religious outlets with optimistic headlines about the great American youth revival seem to have forgotten their previous handwringing about the rise of the nones. A leveling-off of decline does not a revival make. After all, across the United States, thousands of churches still appear poised for closure. Rather than discount the lived experience of priests at dozens of Newman Centers around the country, it’s worth acknowledging that there are, undeniably, young people showing up in greater numbers at some churches. However, there are distinctions between a trend and a no-kidding revival.” Phillips writes later in the piece: “A national religious revival would suit both the religious, worried about decline and its consequences, and the secular, worried about theological mission creep into politics. And in a tale as old as time, a religious revival also suits grifters and opportunists. But unlike the recent Asbury revival, people can’t even agree that one is happening, at least all that much. It’s Schrodinger’s religious revival, at once happening and not. What it means, if it means anything at all, remains to be seen.”
Religion in an Image
