I’ve been reading about some individuals with real convictions, individuals willing to oppose the power of the government, individuals who believed their lives and their world-views were rooted in the Bible.
One of these men was Benjamin Tillman. He held onto his convictions even though many disagreed with him. And he would not be silent. He shared his convictions across the country. Listen to Tillman’s words in response to Theodore Roosevelt appointing William Crum as customs collector in Charleston, an act Tillman believed reflected the president’s faulty political philosophy, an act he believed to be harmful to America, “We still have guns and ropes in the South and if the policy of appointing the Negro to office is insisted upon, we know how to use them.” Crum was a black man; Tillman was a Democratic senator from South Carolina at the beginning of the 20th century.
Yes, like many in the post-Reconstruction South, Tillman was a man of conviction. His courageous stand for his convictions was hardly that. He simply knew he wasn’t alone. Claiming to speak for his fellow southerners, Tillman said, “We of the South have never acknowledged that the Negroes were our equals….”
I’m going move on from those disgusting words because this post isn’t about racism. We all know Tillman’s words are hateful and immoral (at least I hope we do). But my point is Tillman’s convictions were wrong—even though they were strong.
Of course, I didn’t have to resurrect an obscure American politician to make my point. Think of the Nazis whose convictions (especially about the Jews) were so strong. Think of those who flew planes into the twin towers and the Pentagon—their convictions were strong. Then, too, think of those who stormed the capitol on January 6; did they have anemic convictions? No. Were they, therefore, right to jeopardize lives and destroy property? “No,” did you say? But their convictions were so strong.
I was raised in an Evangelical church. I attended “youth rallies” where, as good Evangelicals, we were encouraged to share our faith. This meant being ready to counter any argument raised against becoming a Christian. Speakers told us we would face those who said, “It doesn’t matter what you believe as long as you’re sincere.” We should, we were told, counter this fallacy with an analogy like the following. Suppose you are given a large bottle of iodine which someone (a psychopath, no doubt) had labeled “cherry soda.” Thirsty, you drink it down. No matter how strong your conviction that the bottle contained a red sugary beverage, it would kill you.
Of course, the lesson from those meetings isn’t a “religious” truth; it applies to the world of science as well. Centuries ago, most people embraced the conviction that the sun revolves around the earth. Then, certain scientists—sometimes at great peril—challenged that conviction. They proved their conviction—that the earth moves around the sun—with math and observation. Any conviction—a strongly held belief—needs corroboration.
Usually, we Americans are generously liberal in allowing our neighbors the freedom of their convictions. If my neighbor believes he was a grilled cheese sandwich in a previous life, so what. If he doesn’t march outside my home to protest my occasionally having such a sandwich with a bowl of soup for lunch, we will probably get along. His convictions don’t really matter.
But this isn’t always true. Another neighbor may believe Ivermectin will prevent or cure COVID-19. Should I allow my neighbor to act on this conviction, allow him to act on his convictions even though he puts his life and the lives of his family members at risk? Should I stand by and admire her acting on her convictions when I am sure she is harming herself?
Usually, we Americans feel we have an obligation to intervene. For instance, we make every effort to prevent individuals from acting on their convictions that cocaine or heroin is the way to peace and happiness. We may disagree on how to deal with these individuals (jail or therapy), but we all agree we cannot remain indifferent to their self-destructive behavior. I am not ready to force my neighbor to get a vaccination or wear a mask. But neither am I ready to remain silent. My convictions won’t let me.
Recently, I read an essay praising the Southwest Airlines pilots for standing on their convictions until management backed-off their vaccine mandate. The author compared them to Jesus and George Washington—men who stuck to their convictions. As I read, I wondered what the author would have said if Southwest’s executives had stood by their convictions, even at the risk of lost revenues. I doubt they would have been praised.
Those who refuse the vaccine and eschew the mask (risking their health and the health of others, according to many scientists) may be exercising their rights as Americans and may even be standing up for their convictions. But don’t ask me to applaud them.
