So we’re still discussing Matthew Avery Sutton’s essay “Redefining the History and Historiography” of American evangelical Christianity. Here, again, is Sutton’s paragraph summarizing his conclusions — a paragraph that will spark plenty of arguments, and not just among academic historians:
I argue that post–World War II evangelicalism is best defined as a white, patriarchal, nationalist religious movement made up of Christians who seek power to transform American culture through conservative-leaning politics and free-market economics. Contemporary evangelicalism is the direct descendent of early twentieth-century fundamentalism, North and South. Both movements are distinct from Antebellum forms of Christianity. There is no multi-century evangelical throughline.
The contention that late 20th- and 21st-century “evangelicalism” is its own, distinct thing and not simply the continuation of a centuries-old tradition clashes with white evangelicals’ primitivism — their desire to see themselves as the true heirs of true Christianity, keepers of the flame that has burned since the first century. “Primitivism” is, in a sense, evangelicals’ version of a claim of apostolic succession.
Jake Randolph described this part of the argument as “the classic Lumper vs. Splitter debate.” Sutton, he said, was taking the “splitter” side — arguing that the form of white evangelical Christianity that was created after second World War can’t be “lumped” together with earlier, very different forms of revivalist, biblicist Protestantism from earlier eras. The Lumpers will strike back on that point, and this argument is likely to continue for quite a while.
But the angriest responses to Sutton’s piece, so far, have come from those who think he’s too much of a Lumper himself. Sutton’s definition of contemporary evangelicalism as “a white, patriarchal, nationalist religious movement made up of Christians who seek power to transform American culture through conservative-leaning politics and free-market economics” is too sweeping, his critics say. This criticism is basically a hashtag-NOT-ALL reply — #NOTALLEVANGELICALS are white, patriarchal nationalists who seek power to transform American culture through conservative-leaning politics and free-market economics.
This criticism, in other words, comes from the same place of personal offendedness as hashtag-not-all arguments. And it’s ultimately based on a kind of hostile pedantry that pretends not to understand how normal people normally communicate. Someone will observe, for example, that Texas is a conservative, Republican state. They will make this observation because it’s true, but others will angrily object that #NotAllTexans! and don’t you know that there are 20 times more liberals in Texas than there are in Vermont and this is Beto O’Rourke erasure is what it is and why do you hate the Irish?
I think of this as the Deep Blue Something debate tactic. That one-hit wonder’s one hit was a song called “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” which tells the story of a girl trying to dump her boyfriend without wounding his feelings and him not handling this well at all.
“We’ve got nothing in common,” she tells him, invoking one of the classic break-up clichés. She is trying to be nice. She is trying to be gentle and considerate, reassuring him that it’s her, not him, and that he shouldn’t take this to mean that he is a bad person who is unworthy of finding love some day … with someone else.
Alas, he does not take this well. Instead, he seizes on her use of a categorical word and turns into Debate Me! Boi. He seems to be trying to convince himself that winning this debate will somehow compel her to surrender to what he wants instead of what she wants, forcing her to stay with him because technically they do have something in common and therefore he is right and she is wrong and she must concede the point and love him for it:
And I said, “What about ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’?”
She said, “I think I remember the film and
As I recall, I think we both kinda liked it”
And I said, “Well, that’s the one thing we’ve got”
The male character in this story* is technically correct that it is inaccurate to say, categorically, that this couple has nothing in common. Both of them are bipedal mammals. They both synthesize proteins with their livers. And they both think that the young Audrey Hepburn was adorable.
Those things may all be true of (almost) everyone, and cannot be said to form the foundation for a solid romantic partnership but, still, it was incorrect of her to use that categorical word “nothing.”
But while she may be guilty of technically imprecise colloquial language, he is guilty of being a willfully obtuse jerk and a coercive pedant. This is why the song doesn’t end with this couple happily reuniting. His desperate response only serves to confirm that she made the right choice in dumping him.
Many of the initial reactions to Sutton’s characterization of evangelicalism as white, patriarchal, nationalistic, conservative, and capitalist have just been variations of this dude’s same desperate, obtuse lashing back with “Oh yeah!?! Well, what about Breakfast at Tiffany’s?”
This hashtag-not-all reply entails listing counter-examples of evangelicals who do not necessarily check all of the boxes in Sutton’s definition. What about Jim Wallis and Ron Sider and Tony Campolo?** What about JPUSA? What about, um, Shane Claibourne? Or Rachel Held Evans? Huh? What about them?
There’s an implicit substance underlying that superficial objection and I want to unpack that and explore more fully why it ultimately reinforces and confirms the accuracy of Sutton’s definition. But for now I just want to note that when you’re the guy singing “What about Breakfast at Tiffany’s?” you’re getting dumped. I’m sorry, but it’s over and she’s never getting back together with you.
At this point, we all have that song stuck in our heads, so we should conclude by posting it here. No, not that song, this one:
* In defense of Deep Blue Something and Todd Pipes, who sang and wrote the song, the first-person character in this story song is not necessarily meant to be a reliable narrator. The song is best understood as a character sketch of an emotionally immature dude who responds defensively and badly when he gets dumped. That story might be informed by Pipes’ personal history, but it could just as well be based on his observing other people and it doesn’t need to be understood as autobiography. As Rupert Holmes lamented about his biggest hit, “Escape (the Piña Colada Song),” just because you’re singing in the first person doesn’t mean the story is about you.
** It may take me a while to get there, but my own partial critique of Sutton’s argument will involve me making the case that, unlike Jim and Ron, Tony Campolo isn’t really an evangelical. He is, rather, an indigenous missionary commissioned by Mount Carmel and sent to bring the gospel to white Americans.
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