Effective political engagement requires real historical understanding
Gen Xers, at least, will remember the classic Scooby Doo mysteries. Scooby, Shaggy, and the gang would travel the country in their psychedelic green Mystery Machine van, finding or falling into unexplained goings-on. After investigation, some scary moments, a few Scooby-snacks, and at least one chase, the crew would track down the perpetrator—not a paranormal force but a costumed criminal. The episode would resolve with a literal “unmasking,” when viewers would find out that behind the thefts and scary moments was the unobtrusive farmer or the bland hotel desk clerk from earlier in the episode.
The fun and the drama came with the “Aha!” moment, as characters and viewers realized unexpected connections.
I had a similar “Aha!” moment earlier this year.
In reading populist accounts of the American Revolution I saw multiple references to “Black Robe Regiments,” referring to ministerial support of the Revolution.
Now, I knew this was a metaphorical description, not an actual historical organization. Some ministers had supported the Revolution and others had become military chaplains, but they had never formed their own units. I also knew that the term itself didn’t come from Americans themselves but from an embittered Loyalist, Peter Oliver, writing a jaundiced account of the Revolution from London, who decried the “Black Regiment” in Massachusetts. (On this front, J.L. Bell has done a great job of tracking down those original references.)
Reading up on these contemporary moments I discovered several “Black Robe Regiment” websites, including “The National Black Robe Regiment.” In seeking out its supporters and roots I read laterally, using techniques recommended by Sam Wineburg. It was then that I realized that the “National Black Robe Regiment” site had in fact been set up by David Barton’s Wallbuilders organization. Here was the “aha!”: The organizations were linked, so it would make sense to be on the look-out for shared approaches to the past among them.
My growing understanding of their approach led to a more critical eye in reading their accounts, which mirrored the patterns of other Wallbuilders presentations. This was apparent in their article “History of the Black Robe Regiment.” In multiple ways such writings reveal a lack of attention to historical methods and thinking.
First, the presentation lacks attention to chronology. It draws on examples from wide swaths of early America, from the 1630s all the way to the Second Great Awakening in the 1830s. Ministers taking public stands and resisting authorities are brought in from many colonies and various Protestant traditions. These wide-ranging examples may indeed represent certain approaches in early America, but they don’t demonstrate an organized resistance, and they certainly don’t all pertain to the American Revolution.
Next, the argument lacks attention to historical context. Simply holding up examples does little to explain what those ministers actually thought they were doing. To understand the religious and intellectual context would require deeply researching the ministers. Now, scholars such as Harry Stout and Gary Steward have done so and produced wonderful studies on this topic, but it turns out that understanding how these actors thought about their roles may be very different from the uses they are being put to today. At the very least, these local leaders didn’t think of themselves as carrying on a clerical crusade but rather as serving and defending their local communities and churches.
Finally, this approach lacks an understanding of historical complexity. Even as some ministers did join the patriot movement, a more complex story would show that ministerial reactions varied. Some ministers—like the thoughtful Georgia Presbyterian John Joachim Zubly—were happy to support political resistance to British abuses and taxation but balked at moving toward independence. Zubly would have asserted that his commitments, which cost him dearly, grew out of a commitment to careful theological reflection on political matters.
Similarly, Anglicans asserted that their loyalism was mandated by their commitments to Scriptures like I Peter 2: 13-17, as well as their ordination vows and the Book of Common Prayer. Their well-developed reasoning about their political stances was grounded in their faith.
Finally, still other ministers—again, deeply serious about their faith—sought to stand apart from the political and military conflict to better serve all sides. Thus, Quakers and Moravians sought to bear witness to peace, honoring “Blessed are the peacemakers” (Matthew 5:9). They were thus positioned to give both physical and spiritual help to all, as political and military lines shifted.
What this vision of historical complexity adds to our understanding is that although ministers cared deeply to teach, preach, and live their faith out in public, such commitments did not automatically guarantee a single political conclusion. In fact, Christian political thought can be multifaceted and make complementary assertions simultaneously.
Consider a key passage in the American Revolution’s debates, Galatians 5:1: “Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage.” Note that Paul was first of all referring to spiritual liberty. Where, how, and what type of political liberty might be asserted from this passage is not immediately clear. It would require thought and discernment within particular communities of faith. Moreover, liberty used rightly would lead to service, not to selfishly demanding one’s individual rights.
Better historical reflection, then, can foster wiser, more nuanced thinking about Christian political engagement. This approach will make it easier to avoid Scooby Doo’s “Ruh-Roh” and instead do better in our teaching and engagement.
Jonathan Den Hartog is professor of history and chair of the history department at Samford University in Birmingham, Alabama. He is the author of Patriotism and Piety: Federalist Politics and Religious Struggle in the New American Nation.