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COMMENTARY:
The 2004 Democratic National Convention
July 30, 2004    Episode no. 748
Read This Week's November 7, 2008
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Robin W. Lovin is the Cary Maguire University Professor of Ethics at Southern Methodist University:

The Democratic Party managed to lay claim to some core values in American political life this week. In the process, it may have made an important change in its own political rhetoric.

Photo of Edwards and Kerry Some Democratic strategists have been wary of issues charged with religion and ethics, and the message from Boston to undecided voters clearly was supposed to be that John Kerry is ready to be commander-in-chief. Nevertheless, it's hard to have a national convention without giving your core supporters some reason to cheer about being who they are, and the words that made a difference in the hall delivered a powerful message to the rest of the country, too. The electric moments in the week came when Jimmy Carter told the delegates that America needs to stand for something in the world, John Edwards told them that no one who works at a job should live in poverty, and Al Sharpton told them that they were the party of civil rights and social progress for African Americans. John Kerry's masterful summary of these themes in his acceptance speech on Thursday night resolved any questions about whether these values issues were "on message" for the convention and the campaign.

Those are themes that need to be heard at a time when talk about values in politics often seems to refer to issues of family life and personal choices. The values that were articulated in Boston are important because they are genuinely political. They deal with goods that can only be achieved through legislation, government, and diplomacy. They are not primarily about moral choices people make in their own lives, but about moral choices that we have to make together: What price will we pay for security? What restraints will we put on power? What opportunities will we insist belong to everyone?

The Democratic Party has been reluctant to treat these as questions about values, in part because it has been more successful in recent years treating them as questions about interests. Bill Clinton was the great master of this, and he demonstrated his genius again on Monday night. Beginning with an ironic admission that he now finds himself, unexpectedly, the beneficiary of tax cuts for the wealthiest Americans, he asked his audience to decide whether they wanted to sustain his tax cut or have real prescription drug benefits for the elderly, to sustain his tax cut or have more police on the streets, to sustain his tax cut or provide funding for children and at-risk youth.

Photo of the Democratic National Convention When you have an audience that likes to identify itself as middle class and thinks of itself as working for a living, you can ask them to choose some core Democratic values by asking them to think clearly about their own interests. You can even talk about war and peace by asking how they want decisions made that may put them or their children in harm's way. Republicans are apt to deride this political strategy as class warfare, but the issues it raises are real, and the strategy makes the opposition nervous because it works.

So why not be realistic? Why not just stick to interests and leave values out of it? One reason is that interests, if that's all they are, are divisive. There's a difference between a very broad coalition of interests and a genuine common good. It was Saint Augustine, the first great political realist, who said that without a commitment to love and justice, there's no difference between a state and a band of robbers. You can get elected by defining interests cleverly, but a coalition of thieves is hard to govern. You need values to govern.

Of course, the values that truly make us a nation are, almost by necessity, values that we share. They don't lend themselves to defining "us" against "them." In today's global society, they don't even define us against other nations, though they may help explain why nationhood and self-determination are so important that their absence can lead to a nihilistic spiral of violence that denies all values. Barack Obama's keynote address on Tuesday evening was a powerful evocation of the United States of America and its meaning for the world, instead of the trivial punditry of "red states" and "blue states" that dominates the airwaves as we approach November 2. Unfortunately, the major television networks decided that nothing important was happening on Tuesday evening, but Obama identified himself to those who were able to hear him as someone with a capacity for leadership as well as strategy. He provided some crucial themes for the convention and for Kerry's own acceptance speech, and those who missed Obama this time can be sure he will be heard from again.

The problem for politics, however, is that it is difficult to win an election on values that have to be shared with the opposition, too. No one is likely to become president on values alone, though it might be possible to lose the election on them, if people come to believe that a candidate doesn't understand what holds our national life together, or doesn't care enough about it, or is just too quick to sacrifice it for short-term gains in security and power. Paradoxically, a campaign about values has high potential for becoming a negative campaign, and Kerry wisely used the only direct reference to George Bush in his speech to warn against that possibility.

For the next 90 days, the realists are going to be thinking mostly about red states and blue states and trying to figure out exactly what interests will motivate that small but decisive percentage of voters who haven't already made up their minds. For those purposes, the image of John Kerry surrounded by crewmates from his Swift boat no doubt conveyed an essential message. If you're not sure who to trust with the all-important interest of your own security, the image said, this guy will take care of you. If you want to know who's looking out for you, this guy will do it.

We can't blame the strategists for wanting to get that message out. That's part of what conventions are for. But if the election strategy works, it's those other words and ideas about values that will make the difference in the governing that follows.

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William C. Placher is the LaFollette Distinguished Professor in the Humanities at Wabash College in Crawfordsville, Indiana:

Watching the Democratic convention, it was easy to start thinking of religion as something black people do.

To be sure, nearly every speaker ended with the now ritual "God bless America." But it was African Americans who felt comfortable drawing on Christian themes and imagery throughout their remarks. With rare exceptions, white folks found few occasions to mention God or faith, let alone Jesus.

At the upcoming Republican convention, I'm assuming, both whites and whatever African Americans can be recruited for the occasion will regularly appeal to the Bible and "Christian values."

The contrast led me to recall Mark Noll's wonderful recent book, AMERICA'S GOD. Noll persuasively argues that the religious debates just before the Civil War were tragically one-sided. Defenders of slavery regularly appealed to Scripture: Paul's injunction that slaves should serve their masters, the acceptance of slavery in the Old Testament, and so on.

Antislavery writers did not find effective responses. Taken literally, the Bible did seem to accept the existence of slaves. Many Christians sensed that prophetic calls for justice, the gospel of love for neighbors broadly understood, and Paul's vision of freedom somehow implied that slavery was wrong. But in the face of the drumbeat assertions of the pro-slavery biblical literalists, they kept sounding wishy-washy or incoherent.

Photo of the Democratic National Convention It was not a trained theologian, Noll argues, but a backwoods lawyer who found an alternative way of appealing to Scripture's authority. Abraham Lincoln was no biblical literalist, but the rhythms, language, and spirit of the Bible suffused his rhetoric. In the Second Inaugural Address, in the face of those sure that God was on their side, Lincoln warned, "The Almighty has his own purposes." He even dared to say that if God willed the bloodshed should continue "until all the wealth piled by the bond-man's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid with another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said, 'the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.'" Imagine a politician today conceding that America may deserve God's punishment.

The columnist David Brooks and others worry that the Democratic Party has been taken over by secularists. The great African-American tradition, from Martin Luther King Jr., to Barack Obama, belies that claim. But the cadences of African-American rhetoric would sound phony coming from white lips.

Our political culture badly needs voices, and not just African-American voices, that could draw on the language of Scripture and faith to challenge today's literalists. John Kerry was groping for something of the sort, even quoting Lincoln, when he said that we should worry if we are on God's side rather than being confident that God is on our side.

But the religious grounding of white American liberalism still seems thin. We still await our Lincoln.

Susan Ford Wiltshire chairs the department of classical studies at Vanderbilt University. Her essay, "Standing on the Promises: Absolutes and Imagination in Southern Religion," appears in WHERE WE STAND: VOICES OF SOUTHERN DISSENT (New South Books, 2004):

At the Democratic National Convention on Tuesday night, Barack Obama asked the question, "Am I my brother's keeper?" The answer to that question determines one's politics.

Max Cleland answered this question on Thursday evening when he said of John Kerry, "He was my brother before I knew him."

Photo of the Democratic National Convention To consider as a brother or sister anyone we do not know requires faith and imagination on both the public and private levels. Cleland trusted Kerry even before he met him for both political and personal reasons. When he spoke truth to the U.S. senators upon his return from Vietnam, John Kerry assumed public responsibility for a nation's misguided war. The authority with which he spoke he had earned by his personal courage under fire.

Even greater faith of a spiritual and religious sort is required to believe that everyone in the human family is our brother or sister, whether here or elsewhere, whether past or future. Part of what sustains that faith is our gratitude for the sacrifices of those who went before, a theme repeated often throughout the convention. Nikos Kazantzakis put it this way: "Our ancestors are always crying: Finish our work, finish our work!"

To see problems and possibilities from the perspective of someone else, whether near or far, requires an act of imagination. The ability to see further than one's own self-interest never comes easily.

Finally, what sustains both faith and imagination is love.

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