Labels are fluid, taking on different meanings in different contexts. The label conservative is a good example. Consider politics, for example. The principles and priorities of a politically conservative American don’t perfectly map on to those of a politically conservative Brit, conservative German, or even conservative Canadian. There is an even bigger gap between an American conservative and, say, a Syrian conservative or an Indian conservative. Of course, religion factors into this discussion.
Speaking of religion, a religious conservative may or may not be a political conservative, and a religious progressive might be a political conservative. Context matters, even within particular religions. For instance, the doctrines a theologically conservative Baptist might want to conserve would likely differ somewhat from those of a theologically conservative Presbyterian and would differ considerably from the priorities of a theologically conservative Roman Catholic.
In the modern United States, there is no such thing as a monolithic conservatism, even if many acknowledge a conservative intellectual tradition that predates the American founding. What we today call conservatism is really a patchwork of more and less related priorities, not all of which play nicely together, and often compete both implicitly and explicitly for the hearts and minds and votes of American citizens.
There are fiscal conservatives, social conservatives, neoconservatives, paleoconservatives, and traditionalist conservatives, among others. All were forged to varying degrees within the context of classical liberalism—liberal is another label with more than one meaning. Many are these conservative streams are trying to maintain relevance in a world where many on the Right (including many Christians) are drawn to various forms of postliberalism. Previous generations of conservatives had to figure out how heterodox sympathizers might factor into the mix—many of the neo-conservatives never abandoned some of their Leftwing priorities. In a similar way, conservatives today are trying to figure out where postliberal Catholic integrationists, Reformed Christian Nationalists, Pentecostal dominionists, and even so-called “Barstool conservatives” fit into the picture—or if even if they do.
Southern Baptist historian John Wilsey understands all these dynamics, and he addresses many of them head-on in his fascinating new book Religious Freedom: A Conservative Primer. I would argue the title is misleading. (As with most books, it is likely the publisher picked the title, not the author.) A better title, that captures the heart of Wilsey’s argument, might be something like Aspirational Conservatism: How Liberty and Religion Contribute to a Flourishing Society. Wilsey makes a case for what he calls “aspirational conservativism,” a pre-political commitment to various enduring principles, with special emphasis on a harmony between liberty and religion.
Wilsey isn’t terribly interested in weighing in on contemporary political debates. Readers will find neither a spirited apology for Donald Trump nor a #NeverTrump critique of the contemporary Republican Party. However, the political developments of the past decade or so, as well as the various intellectual debates that have developed alongside politics, are definitely in the background. Wilsey’s aspirational conservatism advances a disposition that is rooted in the conservative intellectual tradition, is unabashedly committed to the truth that American society has been deeply informed by the Judeo-Christian tradition, is fully committed to religious liberty for all people, and that ought to nurture a more virtuous commonweal. This has implications for partisan politics, of course. But such contests, important as they are, are not the point of conservatism.
Readers who are interested in the history of American conservatism will appreciate how Wilsey engages with various historical voices and modern movements. I enjoyed his engagement with Alexis de Tocqueville, Russell Kirk, and Peter Viereck, his nuanced discussion of the difference between nationality and nationalism, and his thoughtful reflections on the importance of history and its role in virtue formation. However, the Land Center for Cultural Engagement is primarily focused on equipping Southern Baptist pastors and other ministry leaders to offer a compelling public witness to the Kingship of Jesus and its implications for all of life. As such, I want to reflect on the book with that primary audience in mind.
John Wilsey is a convictional Baptist, a committed conservative, and a patriotic American. Wilsey doesn’t believe that America was founded as a Christian nation, but Christianity played a critical role in America’s founding. The health of our nation is tied in large part to its degree of fidelity to the Judeo-Christian tradition that historically has cast such a large shadow over our collective moral imagination. I suspect Wilsey would resonate with Richard Land’s argument that America has never been a Christian nation, but America has been healthiest when it has been a nation of Christians. Wilsey has written extensively on this topic in two previous books: One Nation Under God: An Evangelical Critique of Christian America and American Exceptionalism and Civil Religion: Reassessing the History of an Idea.
Wilsey argues at great length for religious freedom for all as one of the most important enduring principles worth conserving. He affirms the separation of church and state, which he identifies with the intentional lack of any religious establishment. This view is articulated in the Baptist Faith and Message (2000). However, Wilsey also makes clear that he doesn’t hold to the version of separationism that was advanced by many postwar progressive Southern or contemporary secularists and their allies. Such “hard” or “strict” separationism is at least implicitly suspicious (and sometimes openly hostile) towards the influence of religion on American society, especially politics. But the goal of church-state separation is not enforcing a “naked public square,” but cultivating a “level playing field” that ensures maximal religious freedom. The state should promote conditions that are conducive to religious liberty, while also acknowledging the role that a particular religious tradition—Christianity—has played in shaping our nation’s history and identity.
Wilsey loves America, and he thinks it is good for a Christian to love his nation. Rightly ordered patriotism isn’t idolatry, but rather it is a virtue. Patriotism is compatible with critical self-reflection and even, when necessary, national repentance. In fact, integrity demands that Christian patriots in particular are forthcoming about the ways that America has fallen short of its ideals, including ways that are deeply incompatible with the Judeo-Christian moral tradition. (The history of racism in America is a clear example.) But patriots should never resent their nation, nor should they embrace ways of thinking that arrogantly and simplistically dismiss the past based upon the ever-shifting preferences of the present. This realist posture towards the past is a deeply conservative instinct, it mirrors how the Bible treats the past, and it offers a better way to reflect upon historical shortcomings than alternatives such as repackaging ancient bigotries, whitewashing the past, or promoting a cynical “cancel culture.”
I believe Religious Freedom: A Conservative Primer will resonate with Southern Baptist pastors and other theologically conservative ministry leaders. Wilsey is a wise, level-headed, and (dare I say?) winsome proponent of an aspirational conservative that many will find compelling. I certainly do. I’d recommend you read Wilsey’s work alongside Hunter Baker’s new book Postliberal Protestants: Baptists Between Obergefell and Christian Nationalism, which offers a shorter, accessible discussion of many of the same themes, though in greater dialog with recent events rather than intellectual history.
Nathan is a professor of faith and culture and directs the Institute for Faith and Culture at North Greenville University in Tigerville, S.C. He is the senior fellow for religious liberty for the Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission, is a senior fellow for the Land Center for Cultural Engagement, and is a senior editor for Integration: A Journal of Faith and Learning. He also serves as teaching pastor at the First Baptist Church of Taylors, S.C.