Over the past few years, our society has continued its trend toward increased political polarization, as the share of people swinging to the far left and right increases. In fact, a recent poll shows that nearly half of US voters believe those in the opposing political party are “downright evil.”
As a result, the public square can be a volatile and even violent place to engage. This is something I experienced firsthand while working in the federal government from 2017 to 2018. In Washington, I observed two equally dehumanizing extremes: explicit hostility and deceptive politeness.
The politicians who most often make the news are those who are overtly aggressive and willing to trample anyone in their path to gain power. Others appear polished, poised, and polite—but their behavior masks ulterior motives. For example, one of my supervisors used our shared Christian faith to disarm and manipulate me. She would smile and invite me to pray with her at lunch, only for me to later discover she had been undermining me to our superiors.
My experience was so dispiriting that I fled politics and Washington altogether to write a book aimed at helping myself and others think more clearly about our deeply divided era and the ways we each might be part of resolving our crisis of polarization and dehumanization.
Turning to Scripture and great thinkers of the past to help me process what I had endured, I reflected on timeless questions: What does it mean to be human? What respect do we owe each other by virtue of our shared humanity, beyond our differences and disagreements?
The Bible reminds us that humanity is a conundrum defined by both nobility and wretchedness: We were made for community with God and others, but we are also selfish and fallen. We thrive in cooperation but are always threatened by our inclination to put ourselves above others.
As philosopher Blaise Pascal noted, “The more enlightened we are the more greatness and vileness we discover in man.” We are the pinnacle of God’s creation, uniquely bearing the divine image, yet also capable of base and ignoble conduct. Likewise, Augustine’s concept of humanity’s “lust to dominate” explains that both overt hostility and false politeness arise from the self-love of our sinful nature rather than a love that sees and respects others as fellow persons created in God’s image.
I came to realize that our present division requires far more than mere courtesy or politeness. We need to usher in a new era of civility—a virtue that has been all but lost in our country. And for Christians, civility is rooted in the imago Dei—the inherent dignity we all possess as beings created in God’s image. This foundation is crucial for flourishing across our differences today.
What changes must we make as a society, and especially as a church, to usher our nation into a new era of civility, founded on the Christian principle of universal human dignity? There are at least five.
First, we must stop confusing civility with politeness.
As I’ve already alluded to, there is an essential and often-overlooked difference between civility and politeness, and confusing the two has lost us the ability to speak the truth in love to each other.
Politeness is manners, etiquette, and technique—it’s a type of behavior—whereas civility is a virtue far deeper and richer than mere conduct. Instead of focusing on the form of conduct, civility gets to the motivation of any given action.
Civility is a disposition that recognizes and respects the common humanity, the fundamental personhood, and the inherent dignity of other human beings. In doing so, civility sometimes requires that we act in ways that appear deeply impolite, such as conveying difficult truths or engaging in robust debate—facing meaningful differences and important issues head-on.
As I’ve written for CT before, Jesus himself was not always polite, but he was continually civil.
Civility both requires certain actions and restricts other actions. It requires that we stand up for ourselves and be willing to speak hard truths in love, but it never lets our disagreements devolve into dehumanization or violence that violates another person’s imago Dei.
Today, some Christians seek to overcorrect for what they think of as a culture of suffocating politeness by supporting leaders and pundits who exhibit a brash delight in delivering hard truths and puncturing hypocrisy. Yet this approach often ends up fostering hostility and aggression and falls prey to the same dehumanizing attempt to control others that is evident with patronizing politeness.
In other words, politeness lies in superficial conduct, while true civility requires us to speak truth in love while recognizing and respecting the fundamental dignity of those we disagree with.
Second, we must stop making an apocalyptic religion out of politics.
The “religionization” of politics has led many believers to elevate political stances to the level of doctrinal orthodoxy—such that they become litmus tests for Christian identity. This, in turn, has led to us publicly question the faith of those who have differing views from us and to reduce complex individuals to political caricatures.
Increasingly, evangelical Christians on both sides of the aisle have become emboldened to say that anyone who disagrees with them on certain hot-button issues is not a true Christian at all. We often judge a person’s faith on whether they think the “right” way or support the “right” person.
But politics has not just become a religion—it’s become an apocalyptic religion. Some evangelical Christians have come to justify any behavior necessary to “win” a political battle or election, including dehumanizing political opponents and even fellow believers.
This political approach is often informed by a certain theology. In 2022, Pew Research found that over 60 percent of evangelical Protestant Christians said they believe “we are living in the end times.” While this is not an unbiblical belief in itself, it can be dangerous when paired with a dominionist mentality.
Such apocalyptic thinking is nothing new in Christianity. It’s important for us to be students of history, as a close study of the past can temper the false notion that ours is the worst or most perilous era for Christians. For example, Martin Luther thought he was living in the end times and, during the Protestant Reformation, falsely accused the pope of being the biblical Antichrist figure—a line of reasoning that provided ideological ammunition for violence toward Catholics.
Claiming we are on the brink of civilizational and cosmic collapse is useful for fundraising and winning elections. It raises the stakes of policy debates and election results and scares people into donating and turning out to cast their ballots. But this high-stakes mentality can be deadly, as it clouds our ability to see the image of God in those we perceive as political enemies.
Third, we should start viewing people holistically instead of reductively.
We often reduce people to their worst moments or views in isolation of their humanity. This can happen in one of two ways: One, we fixate on something they said or did of which they are probably not proud but which, thanks to technology and social media, has been immortalized and widely circulated. Or two, we boil them down to the views they hold (or the politicians or pundits they support), instead of seeing them in the full context of who they are as human beings.
Though we are all fallen and fallible, we’ve come to view the world through a cheapened simplicity: black and white, right and wrong, good and evil. We’ve adopted a strange perfectionism, where we expect those around us to make no errors in judgment, past or present—while forgetting that every one of us is defined by both greatness and wretchedness, as Pascal wrote.
It is time we start “unbundling” people—seeing vices in light of virtues and recognizing the complexity of human beliefs. Unbundling is a mental framework we can use to help us see the parts in light of the whole, mistakes in light of victories, and any views we deem as wrong or misguided in light of nuanced reasoning and motivations.
In essence, we must perceive each other’s irreducible worth as persons created in God’s image, a value which transcends all our differences. As human beings, we are each an amalgamation of contradictory impulses and desires. We are each imperfect in our knowledge and our conduct.
Unbundling means we resist the tempting impulse to see people or politicians as merely Republicans or Democrats. It means we recognize our mistakes or disagreements while being mindful of the basic respect we owe each other as fellow human beings with inherent dignity.
Fourth, we should only draw lines in the sand where they really matter.
We can remember adiaphora, which essentially means “indifferent” in Greek. This idea was popularized during the Protestant Reformation and the subsequent decades of religious wars. In an era where Christians were killing one another over numerous secondary theological differences, this word helped believers keep in mind the essentials of their faith.
Adiaphora distinguishes core Christian tenets, like Christ’s divinity and resurrection, from nonessentials, like views on infant baptism and transubstantiation.
The fact that Christ was God incarnate—who lived, died, and rose again on the third day—is nonnegotiable for the Christian faith. But reasonable minds can and have disagreed on many other theological, doctrinal issues or aspects of faith and practice, such whether the Bible should inform us on public policy regarding fossil fuels or tax reform or education.
As Augustine once wrote, “Love, and do what thou wilt.” In any given situation, determine how the love of God and the love of others might apply, and then act—in that order. We must approach disagreements on public policy or lesser issues with grace, recognizing room for differing interpretations, even within the household of faith.
Fifth, we must revive curiosity, instead of judgment, as our first instinct.
Humility leads us to another vital ingredient of Christian civility: curiosity. Today, political disagreements often become moral indictments. In our conversations with people we disagree with, we subconsciously think, Because you support this presidential candidate or hold this view on this issue, I know everything about you.
By contrast, curiosity is based in the recognition that every one of us is infinitely complex and comes to our views about the world for many different reasons. It acknowledges that people approach and answer life’s foundational questions differently and can come to different conclusions about how our faith and Scripture should inform public life today.
Curiosity also requires the humility and modesty to realize that none of us will ever have all the answers, at least this side of heaven. We must accept our natural limits as finite human beings who only “know in part” (1 Cor. 13:12)—otherwise, we essentially place ourselves on par with God, which was the original sin of humanity.
Instead of assuming we know all about someone based on their political stance, we should ask them more questions and listen patiently for their answers—without planning our next response. And the next time we’re debating someone with a different view, instead of presuming they are wrong and we have perfect knowledge on the subject, we should say, “Tell me more!”
In many cases, we may find that we are all more alike than we think. And in others, as we hear from another person’s perspective, we may learn new insights we’d never thought of before.
Regardless, we must cultivate a humble curiosity about people and the experiences that led them to their views of the world. Honoring people’s stories and respecting their perspectives are foundational to the task of reviving civility in our divided world.
Lastly, the apostle Paul lays out a wise and helpful biblical blueprint for Christian civility in Romans 14, offering us valuable insights on how to welcome differing views among believers without judgment.
As Julien C. H. Smith previously wrote for CT, this passage outlines Paul’s prescription for a polarized church in Rome, where Jews and Gentiles were divided and “the truth of the gospel was being challenged by a myriad of small grievances that threatened to turn neighbors into enemies.”
As paraphrased by The Message, Paul begins the chapter by saying, “Welcome with open arms fellow believers who don’t see things the way you do. And don’t jump all over them every time they do or say something you don’t agree with—even when it seems that they are strong on opinions but weak in the faith department. Remember, they have their own history to deal with. Treat them gently” (Rom. 14:1).
The apostle explains that we need to accept that Christians will think differently on many issues rather than try to convert everyone to our ways of thinking. He cautions against harsh criticism over dietary choices and holy days, instead emphasizing mutual respect and unity—advising that “each person is free to follow the convictions of conscience” (v. 5, MSG).
In summary, he urges believers to “make every effort to do what leads to peace and to mutual edification” and not let arguments over secondary matters such as these “destroy the work of God” among them (vv. 19–20).
These are words of wisdom for our moment, vital for ushering in a new era for Christian civility. Our sovereign God can handle our disagreements, along with the workings of elections and the cosmos, without our help or interference.
Embracing these principles can help heal fractured communities and repair the tattered social fabric in both Christian and secular circles. Let us navigate these divided times with grace, respect, and a renewed commitment to seeing the imago Dei in everyone around us.
Alexandra Hudson is the author of The Soul of Civility: Timeless Principles to Heal Society and Ourselves.
The post It’s Time for a New Era of Christian Civility appeared first on Christianity Today.