Vance, Harris, and a Politics of Ingratitude

Demands for gratitude, Christian nationalism, and MAGA

Everything has changed politically in the United States in the last ten days. It has been, in a word, head spinning.

First, there was an attempted assassination. Then, the Republicans held their national convention and nominated Donald Trump (no surprise) and super-MAGA J.D. Vance (a surprise) as their candidates. Next, President Biden got COVID. And, finally, after much pressure, Biden declined the Democratic nomination in favor of his Vice President, Kamala Harris. In hours since, Harris has raised more than $100 million toward her presidential campaign — and it has become THE conversation everywhere in the United States.

Aaron Sorkin, move over. Real life events have overtaken even your narrative skills.

In the midst of all this, J.D. Vance debuted yesterday in his first solo campaign appearance. Of course, he attacked Kamala Harris. He got mixed reviews. But this section of his speech, as reported by PBS news, attracted my attention:

Vance’s comments seemed to catch most of the media off-guard.

But, quite honestly, he didn’t surprise me. Demands for gratitude are a central feature of both Christian nationalism and MAGA authoritarianism.

I wrote an entire book on gratitude, Grateful: The Subversive Power of Giving Thanks. Most books about gratefulness focus on strengthening personal and private practices of gratitude — things like gratitude journals, daily practices of thanks, and gratitude meditations. As a spiritual practice, gratitude has transformed my own life. And I shared about those changes in deeply personal and vulnerable ways.

To my readers’ surprise, however, I broadened the discussion of gratitude to include its social aspects. That wasn’t in the original book proposal to the publisher! Instead, that part of the book developed as I wrote Grateful — during the 2016 presidential campaign.

Back then, I couldn’t help but notice how often candidate (then president) Donald Trump demanded gratitude. He criticized Americans for not being grateful enough. Those observations became an important aspect of Grateful — and making it different (and controversial!) from other books on gratitude.

Yet, it was necessary to my narrative as I found it impossible to separate personal gratitude from the larger political news, especially the emergence of Christian nationalism and MAGA.

As a result of my unusual analysis of gratefulness, the New York Times asked me to write about Trump’s obsession with gratitude.

Gratitude was a regular feature of his Twitter comments, unscripted remarks, and more formal speeches. When people thanked him, he praised and rewarded them. When slighted, however, he was quick to criticize and punish ungrateful offenders.

This is from my first draft version that became the New York Times piece (it is interesting to compare my original with the published piece!):

Some commentators have noticed Mr. Trump’s fixation with gratefulness, generally ascribing it to a personality flaw. But his attitude toward gratitude is far more than a quirk. Gratitude is central to his politics. Indeed, gratitude is the art of the deal. He demands it of his followers, his cabinet, and, indeed, of all citizens. He deploys gratitude against his enemies and critics to embarrass and shame. Being grateful is not an option. It is a requirement. 

In these emotionally charged days, it seems even gratitude has become political. Donald Trump has made “thank you” divisive. 

Although we have not often considered it, this is not particularly new. Gratitude has always been political. Sometimes it is used toward good political ends (such as public celebrations of thanksgiving). 

Too often, however, authoritarian leaders have used gratitude to control critics and consolidate power. Trump is not calling us to our better angels of thanks; rather, he is following in the footsteps of rulers who abuse gratitude.

The misuse of gratitude in politics goes back a long way – ancient Rome mastered it.  An empire structured as an economic and political pyramid, a few people at the top held most of the wealth and power. At the bottom, where most people barely survived, there was very little. What held this inherently unjust system together? There was, of course, a feared army. But there was also something else: a social structure based in a particular form of gratitude.

The emperor – called Caesar – was believed to be “lord and savior” of all. He owned everything. He was the benefactor who distributed his gifts and favors (“gratia” in Latin) at will to everyone beneath him. Even if you were a slave with a single piece of bread to eat, that bread was considered a gift of the emperor.

Caesar’s gifts, however, were not free. They were transactional. When you received from Caesar, you were expected to return gratitude, your “gratia,” through tributes, tithes, taxes, loyalty, and military service. Until you returned appropriate thanks, you were in Caesar’s debt. And if you failed to fulfill your obligation, you were an “ingrate,” which was a political crime punishable by the seizure of your property, prison, exile, or execution.

Rome’s power was built on benefactors and beneficiaries bound by reciprocal obligations of gratitude. It worked, but it was easily corrupted. Lower classes incurred huge debts of gratitude that could never be repaid, functionally enslaving them. Even between members of the same class, gratitude mutated into quid pro quo, whereby a benefactor gave only to get something in return. Ancient philosophers urged benefactors to eschew corrupted gratia and, instead, give freely from a desire for the common good. Gratitude should be “disinterested” in gain. Benevolent gratitude, they insisted, was a virtue. Sadly, it was also rare.

Western societies inherited Roman ideas of gratitude. While medieval rulers tried (and failed) to Christianize political gratitude, Enlightenment thinkers – like John Locke and Adam Smith – explicitly rejected quid pro quo. They argued that reciprocal gratitude was bad for politics, but equally believed that benevolent gratitude was necessary for moral democracy. It was a nuanced and difficult position to achieve. The temptations of corrupted gratitude kept creeping back into western politics.

Understanding this helps explain Donald Trump. He has always depicted himself as a benefactor: “I alone can fix it.” Throughout the primaries, he boasted that he received no outside gifts or contributions, thus debts of gratitude would never control him. He criticized conventional forms of payback, promising to distribute social largess to the “right” people, rid the system of undeserving beneficiaries, and restore upward mobility in a social pyramid. No more corporations, no more politicians. He would be the ultimate benefactor. He would make America great again from the top. Of course, he would reap the rewards: loyalty, financial gain, and the abiding thanks of the American people.

Why does the Russia probe make Trump angry? The suggestion that he benefited from anyone, much less a foreign government, undermines his self-image of the unassailable benefactor. He never receives. He gives as he wills, and to whom he chooses. “Receivers,” like the poor, immigrants, women, and persons of color, are considered weaker beings, consigned to the lower ranks of his social pyramid, and who, failing to reciprocate his paternalistic generosity, are chided for a lack of thanks. Surely, with his continuing mediocre approval ratings and unrelenting criticism, Trump must think himself president in a nation of ingrates.

There is, however, an alternative to the pyramid of gratitude – that of a table. One of the enduring images of American self-understanding is that of a Thanksgiving table, where people celebrate abundance, serve one another, and make sure all are fed. People give with no expectation of return, and joy replaces obligation. There exists no deal, no quid pro quo around the table. This vision of gratitude is truly virtuous, sustains the common good, ensures a circle of equality, and strengthens community. Unlike Trump’s gratitude-as-duty politics, a new vision of an American table of thanks is what is needed now.

Gratitude can be private. It can be a profoundly personal spiritual practice. However, the moment we talk about gratitude in public, it invariably becomes political. The problem isn’t social expression of gratitude — the problem is how we understand the structure of gratitude. Is gratitude a demand or obligation? Is it entwined with privilege and power or is it an expression of humility and grace? Does gratefulness separate us into “the haves” and “have nots” — or does it find us all seated at the same table?

As my New York Times piece hinted, Jesus himself was an ingrate. He was not grateful to or for the Roman structure of gratitude! Indeed, much of the New Testament demonstrates his alternative vision of gratitude — as a subversive practice of thankfulness that demolishes boundaries between people and establishes a community of solidarity around a table of God’s gifts.

I confess: I’m an ingrate like Jesus. I will NEVER be grateful when a powerful person demands I bend the knee to praise his or her benefaction. My faith insists that there is only one Benefactor — God — and all of us are the beneficiaries of the sacred gift of life and life’s good gifts. Those of us around the table recognize our common state, and with humble hearts, freely thanking the Giver, those sitting with us, and the gifts themselves. And we pass those gifts freely as well. Around this table, all can find a seat, all will be fed. Equally. No one owns these gifts. First of all, every one of us receives.

Anyone who demands gratitude has set themselves up as a false god — that’s both a political and a theological problem, one that is central to Christian nationalism. It gets gratitude wrong.

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Watch my short talk, Jesus the Ingrate, from TheoEd:

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INSPIRATION

I know there’s something better down the road.
We need to find a place where we are safe.
We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain: that many have died for this day.
Sing the names of the dead who brought us here,
who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges,

picked the cotton and the lettuce, built
brick by brick the glittering edifices
they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle, praise song for the day.
Praise song for every hand-lettered sign,
the figuring-it-out at kitchen tables.

Some live by love thy neighbor as thyself,
others by first do no harm or take no more
than you need. What if the mightiest word is love?
— Elizabeth Alexander, from “Praise Song for the Day,” Please read the full poem.

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PAID SUBSCRIBERS

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I’ve known Jen since she was a college student (in other words, a long time!) — and she’s been on an amazing spiritual, theological, and political journey. I greatly admire her. She’s currently the Vice President for Academic Affairs and Academic Dean at Garrett Evangelical Seminary, where she also teaches classes in Christian Ethics.

We’ll talk about moving past guilt and shame regarding race — and I imagine we’ll discuss how white folks can best support the candidacy of a Black woman for president in this important election year. (Remember: Kamala Harris is not the FIRST Black woman to run for president!)

If you can’t make the live conversation, don’t worry. A recording will be sent to all paid subscribers a few hours after the live event.

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