Religious Liberty: A Conservative Primer
Wilsey, John D. Religious Liberty: A Conservative Primer. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2025. Pp. 288. $28.99.
A few years ago, I joined a panel of scholars at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky for a one-day conference on Baptist public theology. It was clear that members of the group were thinking about Stephen Wolfe’s book The Case for Christian Nationalism, which ignited controversy with its extremely bold proposals regarding turning the clock back on church-state relations. It was around this same time that Sohrab Ahmari kicked off a firestorm by publicly attacking “David Frenchism” and then debating the aggrieved French in public fora. Ahmari, too, seemed to be pushing for a rejection of the modern settlement of church and state by Christians in the Catholic church. It was clear, then, that there was a new will emerging on the right to challenge ideas regarding disestablishment and the separation of church and state.
At the same time, there were powerful attacks being made against other things that seemed long decided by forces on the left. For example, Nicole Hannah-Jones launched her 1619 Project to tremendous fanfare with the backing of the New York Times accompanied by apparent plans to propagate her historical narrative throughout the public schools of America. The point of the work would be to argue that slavery was not a tragic part of the American story but was instead central to the founding of the nation. Parallel movements attacked the long-revered freedom of speech as a weapon of white privilege and criticized religious liberty as little more than a license to discriminate.
To use the picture suggested by Arthur Schlesinger, the center has threatened not to hold under an ideological assault from both left and right. I recall on the evening I mentioned in the first paragraph that I felt moved to argue that liberalism (not left-wing politics, but limited government, democracy, constitutional rights, etc.) was in danger in a way we hadn’t seen before. Contrary to Francis Fukuyama’s 1990’s declaration that we’d observed “the end of history” with the failure of the Soviet Union over against a seemingly transcendent democratic West, it seemed that a veritable fortress of consensus was far weaker than expected a mere 30 years later. How could this be after what had appeared to be a spectacular (and surely enduring) victory of liberalism as a kind of final political philosophy for the ages? Had not the political dreamers (who ended up producing nightmares) been defeated and replaced by less ambitious (and wiser) new regimes?
What happened? I can think of a few things. The end of the Cold War failed to bring about the kind of Russia that westerners hoped to see as Vladimir Putin dominated the nation after initial chaos. September 11 happened and was accompanied by the neo-conservative ambitions of Americans to remake recalcitrant portions of the Middle East. The hoped-for Golden Age of exported American liberalism failed to take hold and ended up diminishing the leading liberal power rather than exalting it. During the same period, China took advantage of being welcomed into the community of international trade to vastly increase its own wealth and power. The problem, however, was that the anticipated growth of democracy and human rights in the Middle Kingdom did not occur. Instead, it appeared that efforts to court China as an economic power had only led the nation emerging as a threat rather than as a like-minded partner. Liberalism, rather than being triumphant, suddenly seemed spent and outmoded by events.
Somehow, the setbacks faced by liberalism seemed to embolden various coalitions in the United States and to give the impression that a whole new settlement could be brought about whether by Bernie Sanders, Donald Trump, the #metoo movement, Black Lives Matter, new Christian nationalists, Curtis Yarvin, and/or some other contenders perhaps not yet in evidence. The overall state of affairs led me to suggest to other members of our conference’s panel that liberalism had lost its equilibrium and that we might not be able to find it again. The consequence would be that we would instead find ourselves locked in a postmodern struggle in which power, not principles, would tell all.
One member of our group resisted my commentary regarding the crisis of liberalism and the failure to achieve any kind of equilibrium strenuously. He still had faith in classical liberalism and the capacity of Americans to preserve their political heritage which had sustained them through a civil war, two world wars, the Cold War, and a great depression. His conviction was notable. That gentleman’s name was John Wilsey. He was and is a highly regarded professor at the flagship Southern Baptist seminary in Louisville. As I read his new book, Religious Liberty: A Conservative Primer, I could not help but feel that it was something like a book length answer to my skepticism about the prospects for liberalism and the American political culture. I have to say, the book is an awfully good answer. Wilsey effectively defends and promotes classical liberalism and core American political values. Almost anyone who reads the book will feel the weight of his argument and the worth of his prescriptions.
It is notable that Wilsey sets his text out as “a conservative primer.” He is thinking very much like a Burkean. In other words, Wilsey is a true conservative. Wilsey looks at the society in which we live like a gigantic, sprawling oak tree that exists to the benefit of those able to enjoy its shelter. Where the tree develops disease or perhaps has been afflicted with some pathology over the long term, the right response is to prune or trim, but never to uproot the whole or to chop it down. Preservation of the great thing that really exists is more important than manufacturing some new replacement. That way of thinking is perfectly consistent with Wilsey’s determination to protect American classical liberalism from the skeptics and radical innovators left and right.
The great virtue of conservatism of the Burkean school is that it should operate to retain the things which have proven themselves while rejecting the errors in a process that may often be painfully slow, but will, over time, produce a better world for those who inherit it. Those who would prefer to begin again, as with the proclaimers of the year zero, tend to produce far more misery (and in fact, death) than utopian flourishing. Wilsey promotes a kind of conservatism rightly understood, but he understands the errors that can beset other types. One example to which he entertainingly points is the version of conservatism that is merely obsessed with turning back to the clock to a fixed point as though that particular time was the summit of human existence. Wilsey lampoons the “ottantots” who perseverated endlessly on 1788 (the year before the French Revolution).
Wilsey proposes that Americans take classical liberalism as their heritage which must be preserved and imbue it with specific qualities designed to avoid potential pitfalls of authoritarianism, tribalism, and misdirected nostalgia. These qualities are balance, aspiration, and openness. If American conservatives can keep their classical liberalism open, aspirational, and balanced, they will maximize their chances of maintaining the core political tradition of their country and fending off the more extreme alternatives to the left and right. It is a heartening proposal. While I have felt growing alarm at the instability of American politics during the last decade or more, Wilsey’s spirited defense of and plan for classical liberalism steadied by Burkean conservatism offers hope that we can once again find an equilibrium from which we can build and grow.
Various commentators in both politics and religion have noted over the centuries that it is highly constructive to take what we have learned in the current day and to revisit founding principles with an eye toward renewal. It is this spirit that hallows the Declaration of Independence (and seeks to more faithfully apply it) rather than cursing it as a hypocritical document that set out no program of ending slavery. Lincoln did something similar with the American founders such as George Washington. He took their best attributes and beliefs and channeled them toward a better future that built upon the foundations rather than seeking to destroy them and start over. This conservatism met Wilsey’s criteria of being open, aspirational, and balanced.
What does the wrong kind of conservatism look like? It’s Alexander Stephens’ infamous Cornerstone speech. Stephens was the vice-president of the Confederacy. Where Lincoln found the discomfort and bad consciences founders such as Washington and Jefferson felt over slavery to be something hopeful for the future, Stephens deplored their hesitance and desire to escape the ills of the “peculiar institution.” He insisted instead upon the idea of slavery as a positive good. Stephens’ conservatism was closed, unbalanced, and backward-looking rather than aspirational. John Wilsey is rightly concerned that American conservatives in a period of intellectual and spiritual upheaval stand on the right side of the divide lest they accidentally allow reaction to push them in the opposite direction.
This essay first appeared in the Reading Wheel Review published by the Center for Religion, Culture, and Democracy. It is reprinted here with permission.
HUNTER BAKER
Provost and Dean of the University Faculty
North Greenville University