Originally Published by The American Reformer
Distinction, Prudence, and a Clear Destination
Editor’s Note: The following is a modified version of a talk delivered by the author at the ISI Summit on Politics and Government in October, 2025
There are churches and Christians that consider politics to be a dirty business that Christians might “speak life into” but ought not touch. The Christian Statesman is viewed as a paradox of a bygone era. He employs prudence to avoid vicious extremes of tyranny or ineffectiveness. He must make a distinction between public and private actions. Prudence requires knowledge of ends and experience. Since prudence is developed through experience, aspiring Christian statesmen ought to work in politics early in their careers. While there is much to be hated in postlapsarian politics—for power often corrupts—the calling of the Christian Statesman is a worthy one. Moreover, it is a current one.
Decline of Distinction
One cause of skepticism towards the Christian Statesman stems from what Churchill terms “mass effects in modern life.” As America has moved towards greater democracy, she has seen visible distinctions decline. We have done away with pomp and circumstance, the wearing of tuxedoes to operas, and the calling of elders by their last name. Tocqueville notes the effect of this decline:
In democracies, where the members of the community never differ much from each other, and naturally stand in such propinquity that they may all at any time be confounded in one general mass, numerous artificial and arbitrary distinctions spring up, by means of which every man hopes to keep himself aloof, lest he should be carried away in the crowd against his will.
While the members of the community seek authenticity and uniqueness, those who wield authority—teachers, politicians, pastors—are lauded for being easygoing and relatable. Churchill writes that the tendency of democracy is to erase honors:
The robes, the wigs, the ceremonies, the grades that fortified the public men and ruling functionaries of former centuries have fallen into disuse in every country. Even “the Divinity that doth hedge a King” is considered out of place except on purely official occasions. Sovereigns are admired for their free and easy manners, their readiness to mingle with all classes, their matter-of-fact workaday air, their dislike of pomp and ritual. . . .he is looked upon and, what is more important for our present purpose, looks upon himself as quite an ordinary fellow, who happens to be charged for the time being with a peculiar kind of largescale work.
This decline of visible distinction and honor has blurred the line between ethics, which is the activity of the individual man, and politics, which is the activity of the city. Politics, which is concerned with the actions of people in a community, requires that individuals take actions as agents of a community that they otherwise may not. For example, a man might rule another man justly but only by nature of the role of sovereign; a man might condemn another man justly in the role of judge; a man might kill another in the role of executioner. These individuals lack an intrinsic right to do as they do. They act as subsets of the community, not as individuals. This distinction is more easily forgotten when visible distinctions—the kind that differentiate public roles—decline. There is still a difference.
Searching for a System
The question arises of how one ought to act in public life as distinct from private life. It might tempt people to search for two ethical systems—one public and one private. This search for a system is distinctly modern. As Churchill observes: “Are not our affairs increasingly being settled by mass processes?” Since the watershed moment when Descartes claimed to have created a system of thought that would give us certain knowledge, society searches uncertainly for moral systems. Many Christians have joined the search for this system. Ben Crenshaw compares them to Kant in his article, writing, “Evangelical Protestants follow in Kant’s footsteps in various ways. They instinctively search for a system of morals that can be rationally grasped and applied universally, equally, and fairly to all men.” Modern, democratic society—many Christians included—search for categorical principles and moral systems that assume that there could be a perfect man, if only we could find the formula. They search vainly. No process can replace prudence.
Prudence: The Statesman’s Virtue
Prudence is the keystone virtue of the stateman. It requires time and experience but allows one to translate ideas into action. Aristotle defines it in one translation as, “a state conjoined with reason, true, having human good for its object, and apt to do.” In other words, prudence has four elements: 1) it involves reason, 2) it is concerned with truth, 3) it aims always towards human good, and 4) it leads to action. The prudent man chooses the best means for achieving a goal. Thus, the Christian Statesman must be prudent.
The development of prudence requires two elements: study and experience. Study trains the reason, aims for truth, and provides knowledge of human good, which is the end of a well-ordered society. The Christian Statesman should therefore read much of theology and philosophy. Although he enjoys the contemplation and reflection that intellectual pursuits unlock, he will not stop there. He pairs the intellectual with action.
Prudence, synonymous with practical wisdom, requires practical experience. Like a strongman who not only knows how to lift heavy, but can also do it, this virtue assumes the ability to act. This activity can only be learned through exercise. The Christian Statesman will therefore involve himself early in politics. The practical wisdom of knowing how to weigh virtues in tension can only develop through training. It is better to train earlier than later; when the stakes are high, prudence must be present already. There is danger, however, in entering politics at an early age.
When Many Wander, They Are Lost
The greatest risk to a young stateman is not overweening pride, as one might expect; no—the greatest risk is that he will become like modern mass society, which has no clear idea of a telos. Churchill notes, “The great emancipated nations . . . wend their way ponderously, unthinkingly, blindly, but nevertheless surely and irresistibly towards goals which are ill-defined and yet magnetic.” Mass society trends; it does not aim. Education, for example, once aspired to know the highest and most hidden things. It is now an impoverished act, sometimes failing even to enable the getting of a salary in the most affluent of times. What once aimed at producing leaders that could contemplate and communicate eternal truths now stoops to the democratic goal of producing ethical and pious leaders; it now aspires to productive efficiency. To what end? We know nothing but that the mob demands it.
The Christian Statesman must resist losing a firm purpose. If he does not resist, he will paradoxically lose his ability to pursue the public good. His resistance will require a few trusted friends to hold him on his course—a phalanx in the face of the faceless mass. These friends will share a similar vision of the ends of society and help him focus on these things. They remind him that he answers to God, not the demos. The mob may be sovereign, but it is never wise.
There is one small comfort for the aspiring Christian Statemen, as the danger of pride is smaller. As Churchill notes, the modern world has dispensed with its heroes: “Modern conditions do not lend themselves to the production of the heroic or super-dominant type.” He continues,
He may only be doing what, in all the circumstances some one or other would have to do. It seems rather hard that he should receive none of the glory which in former ages would have been the attribute of his office and the consequence of his success. But this is one of the mass effects of modern life and science. He will have to put up with it.
The young man in politics needs worry little of pride, for there is little earthly glory to be had among modern bureaucracy. In democratic societies, many great men remain unknown.
Conclusion
Icall simply for the development of prudence in the young. The next generation will soon govern. The affluence of the past century has lulled the previous generations into a happy stupor. They say that we have progressed beyond the need for heroes; then they follow the mob. Christian Statesmen—I use the plural—are the best hope for America. As those who answer to God, they will promote the common good without pride. They can bear the loss of glory in a democratic nation, as they are promised a heavenly variety. This call is for Christian Statesmen to enter the arena, not abdicate public life for fear of it; cowardice is a vice. As one stateman said, “It sometimes happens that he who would not hurt a fly will hurt a nation.” In contempt of those who would do evil, the young man should study the good and work to pursue it. Think who will do it if not those who honor God and do good.
