Gallagher:
Sen. Ben Sasse (R-NE) went to San Bernardino and gave a speech that deserves notice from everyone who is thinking about America’s decade and a half-old (and counting) conflict with radical Islam. It’s now up on YouTube:
The most important part (transcript via the Weekly Standard):
I am not a Muslim but as an American I stand and defend the rights of American Muslims to freely worship even though we differ about important theological matters. In America we are free to believe different things and to argue about those beliefs. It matters what you think about the nature of God and whether he’s revealed himself, what you think about salvation matters, heaven and hell matters, but these things are so important that we don’t try to solve them by violence. And we come together as a community, a community of Americans who believe in the constitutional creed, to unite around those core American values like freedom of religion.
If this speech were to change the way Americans talk about the war on terror, Sasse will have performed a service to the nation. To see how, look at two moments from seminal speeches since 2001.We are most certainly though at war with militant Islam. We are at war with the violent Islam. We are at war with jihadi Islam. We are not at war with all Muslims. We’re not at war with Muslim families in Dearborn, Michigan who want the American dream for their kids. But we are at war with those who believe that they will kill in the name of religion.
After
September 11, President Bush declared that terrorists “hate our freedoms: our
freedom of religion, our freedom of speech, our freedom to vote and assemble
and disagree with each other.” Bush had touched on something vital: Radical
Islamists hated those things because they see them not as freedoms, but as
grave wrongs—as invitations to apostasy, atheism, and libertinism. The problem
was, he never fully fleshed this out. As a result, this speech became easy to
caricature in later years: That simpleton Bush couldn’t possibly imagine why
anyone would have a beef with the U.S., so he invented a cartoon enemy.
But
just because Bush was inarticulate, doesn’t mean he wasn’t on to something.
Radical Islamism identifies as good that which we identify as evil, and vice
versa. In doing so, Islamic radicals are like many of America’s past enemies—Nazis,
Communists—who also espoused a cohesive worldview diametrically opposed to
America’s classical liberalism. And it is this moral and politico-religious
frame that many Americans feel has been missing from this conflict. Bush left
many legacies, but an enduring frame for the global conflict against radical
Islam was not one of them. He spent much of his Presidency trying to fight
particular states and terror groups. His Wilsonian belief that the desire for
democracy dwelt in every heart, and that, given a chance to flourish, it would
cure the Middle East’s ills, also caused him to underestimate just how deep the
problems in the Islamic world run.
President
Barack Obama, for his part, has veered between downplaying the conflict as a
whole (Matt Yglesias, as recently as this week, characterized the President as
attempting “to meet the psychological needs
of a frightened nation” while not engaging in actions that are “widely
counterproductive”) and sweeping pronouncements on Islam (“ISIL is not Islamic.”) The damage that these tactics—which to many smack of deliberate
obtuseness—have done to the public’s trust in the government is increasingly
acknowledged by both Left and Right.
But
less recognized is how President Obama misses opportunities to present America’s
viewpoint to the Islamic world. Take, for example, his 2009 Cairo speech. Heavy
on rhetorical gestures that he (and, by extension, America) understood the
Islamic world, the speech simply took for granted that the Islamic world
understood America’s philosophy:
But to radical Islamists, “the ability to speak your mind and have a say in how you are governed” is seen, as it was in Medieval Europe, as an invitation to error, misrule, and license. Similarly, freedom of religion, which Obama went on to extoll, is seen as the road to apostasy. Like Bush, but unlike Sasse, Obama did not explain why America believes these things. Instead, by acting like there’s shared ground (“all people yearn for certain things”) where none exists, Obama tried to pretend there isn’t a theological controversy where there is one.I do have an unyielding belief that all people yearn for certain things: the ability to speak your mind and have a say in how you are governed; confidence in the rule of law and the equal administration of justice; government that is transparent and doesn’t steal from the people; the freedom to live as you choose. Those are not just American ideas, they are human rights, and that is why we will support them everywhere.
This
approach—pretending that everyone in the world (excepting perhaps a fringe
minority) on some level agrees with America’s founding principles—has become a
hallmark of Obama’s approach to the problem of radical Islam. But until the
basic controversy over right and wrong is acknowledged, and America’s viewpoint
fully explicated, it will be very hard for American leaders to persuade the
majority of Middle Eastern Muslims, who are caught in a civilizational crisis,
to understand what we are offering, what we are asking of them, and why. Just as
importantly, to many Americans, the Obama approach seems like papering over a
serious problem with platitudes.
Sasse,
who has a Ph.D. in history from Yale but also ran a small, Lutheran college in
Middle America, is offering a way to thread the needle. On the one hand, his
speech shows how to reassure a frightened American public while respecting our
Constitutional obligation not to be sectarian. On the other, it demonstrates
how to explain our worldview cogently and firmly to a Muslim world in turmoil. As
Sasse explained, America’s freedoms, such as freedom of speech, are not
libertine declarations that we do not care for higher truth, but rather are
integral to the search for it. Knowledge of God is vital to human life, but
impossible to find or enforce by the sword. Therefore, free examination and
freedom of conscience are our best hope. This belief, born out of the wars of
the Christian Reformation, was the tradition in which America’s founders, both
Revolutionary and colonial, wrote the First Amendment and in which they framed
our democracy as providing a chance to adhere more closely to what one thought
was a good and true life, very much including a religious life. This wisdom has
been confirmed by American history, as groups such as Roman Catholics and
Mormons, whose religions had previously been thought to be incompatible with
pluralism, have lived and prospered under this approach. And as Sasse rightly
points out, millions of American Muslims today thrive in their faith under this
same liberal tradition.
Sasse
is at once more humble in his ambitions than our current crop of leaders (he
doesn’t claim to understand Islam better than many leading Islamic scholars,
for instance), and more effective in his outreach. By connecting with America’s
history and the importance of religion in ordinary Americans’ lives, the
Senator reassures the country that he “gets” it. From there, he builds a way of
viewing the conflict that Americans of all faiths can understand and rally
around. Finally, he provides fruitful ground for outreach, by establishing
common ground—care for the questions that all religions try to answer—before
expressing differences and concerns. Insisting that Islam doesn’t really matter
(or is just a flag of convenience for crazies) hasn’t been working, at home or
abroad. Perhaps it’s time to take a cue from Senator Sasse and try something
different.