Like millions of Americans who voted for Vice President Kamala Harris, I’m dejected by her defeat. But President-elect Donald Trump was not elected in a vacuum — he was chosen by millions of voters who see him as the right choice, whether I agree or not.
Progress can’t end with a lost election. So, today, instead of wallowing in my disappointment, I’m reflecting on how politics for me is more than a sport with winners and losers, instead it’s a kind of common “civic faith” we can all still believe in.
Civic religion is a nonsectarian set of democratic values rooted in the founding of our nation and developed by American thinkers like Thomas Jefferson and John Dewey. Behind it is a deep commitment to the success of America that hinges on our founding documents and trusts our system of governance.
I started to realize the name for my faith in America during my history seminar on democracy this semester. The themes of my class touch on the ideas of sociologist Robert Bellah, who, in 1967, wrote on how American civic religion is a guiding philosophy capable “of growth and new insight.” It’s not a system uncritical of our institutions. In fact, a key part of civic religion is keeping our country and institutions honest to their morals — and that often means reform to solve systemic issues.
And while my growing faith in civic religion could be described as irrational or overly optimistic — for me it’s a faith that’s quite easy to practice because I can see it in action. It forms the moral framework for how we can counter the worst impulses of President-elect Trump
In most faiths, the voice of a higher power is interpreted through religious leaders or by studying ancient texts. In civic religion there is no interpreter for the voice of reason — you can hear it yourself. It’s an idea encapsulated in the Latin phrase Vox Populi, Vox Dei — the voice of the people is the voice of god. This phrase differentiates civic and other types of religion: the compass of civic religion comes directly from the people.
Through this lens of civic religion, I think there are two ways to proceed after Nov. 5th, 2024.
The first way is to roll over. To say our system is broken, that it’s tainted, or that it doesn’t seem to work in the same way that it used to. Renouncing our commitment to progress and democracy and converting to a cynical civic atheism would be about the most apathetic thing you could possibly do.
A key tenet of any type of religion is that faith is supposed to guide you through the toughest of times, centering you around the values and morals that shape your life. If you woke up this morning, saw an election outcome you didn’t like, and fell back asleep forgetting the whole thing ever happened, then you were never civically religious at all. You held a fake faith that negates the voice of the people when an outcome doesn’t swing your way.
The second way forward, and what we all should do today, is to take some time to explore the idea of civic faith and begin to practice it bit by bit. Abrahamic religions are built upon stories of obstacles that may seem insurmountable but can be addressed through the power of faith. America should be no different — the tough times should strengthen our commitment to civic religion.
So go back to the drawing board and organize around the interests you care about; protest against violations of our rights; and do everything in your power to protect those targeted by Trump’s dark plans. For some motivation, go read the core texts of our civic religion like the preamble of the Constitution or Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address where he committed to healing America’s wounds after the Civil War “with malice toward none [and] with charity for all.” You will see and hear the call of our shared civic faith.
Obviously, I’m an optimist — but it’s an optimism that doesn’t ignore the profound flaws that come with our democracy. Civic religion isn’t a tool to silence dissent or force patriotism, rather a way to move forward in line with national values. Optimism and civic faith run hand in hand — they both see our community as a place where good things can prevail over the bad.
The only way Trump breaks our democracy is if we renounce our civic faith. If we do, then our new president can do what he wants without fear of repercussion. Our country is built on 350 million dreams of American promise; when you let those go, there is no America at all.
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