False prophets without clothes
It's not pretty
For those of us who have been paying attention for years, or even decades, there’s a certain kind of horror watching a man like Doug Wilson, and then his congregant Pete Hegseth, move from the fringes of society to the centers of power.
When I was finishing Jesus and John Wayne, a scholar I respect very much questioned my inclusion of Wilson: “Who is this guy? I’ve never heard of him, and I don’t think he’s that important.” Wilson’s Amazon sales numbers at the time seemed to suggest the same. But I knew Wilson wasn’t selling his books on Amazon, and I’d heard too many people attest to his influence to dismiss him. I kept my sections on Wilson in Jesus and John Wayne.
I added more in Live Laugh Love, where I also share the perspectives of women caught up in his orbit. More on that in September, but here’s a taste: “…fitting within no established tradition, Wilson started his own school, college, publishing house, and eventually his own denomination. (Wilson never attended seminary and was not traditionally ordained; placing himself at the top of the chain of command, he wielded authority but answered to no one.)”
Remember that part—we’ll come back to it.
First, though, back to the horror.
I’ve given so many interviews on Hegseth and Wilson in the past couple of weeks that I lost track of them. Here’s an excerpt from a deep-dive from The Guardian’s Julia Wong on Pete Hegseth’s “holy war”:
But where Wilson’s ideas were once on the fringe of rightwing evangelicalism in the US, recent decades have seen a change.
In the aftermath of the second world war, a culture of militant masculinity developed among white evangelicals in the US, according to historian Kristin Kobes Du Mez. A professor at Calvin University who frequently comments on Hegseth, Du Mez traced the emergence of this strain of evangelicalism in her 2020 book Jesus and John Wayne.
Whereas in the 19th century, the ideal of “Christian manhood” would have been focused on virtues such as honor, dignity and gentlemanliness, by the early 21st century, the ideal evangelical man had morphed into something that looks a lot more like Hegseth.
“You could not get a better embodiment of that ideology, that particularly militaristic conception of Christianity and ends-justifies-the-means mentality that baptizes violence and cruelty in the name of righteousness” than Hegseth, said Du Mez.
Du Mez argues that the transformation of the evangelical masculine ideal grew out of a sense of embattlement. Facing threats to their status from feminism, the civil rights movement, the Vietnam war, and broad economic shifts, evangelicals invested psychically in a kind of chauvinistic religiosity that allowed them to reassert their dominance, at the very least within the home. Cheerleading the cold war and post-9/11 wars in the Middle East provided another realm to act out these fantasies of domination, usually without needing to get their own hands dirty. “Any enemies of America – foreign or domestic – and any enemies of their particular agenda are also enemies of God,” Du Mez said.
The perverse moral consequences of combining militant masculinity with religious certainty can be seen in the way this movement consistently supported the most questionable uses of American military power. During the second world war, Du Mez writes, white evangelicals defended the firebombing of German cities. During the Vietnam war, they rallied behind the perpetrators of the Mỹ Lai massacre. And during the global “war on terror”, they were the Americans most likely to support the torture of prisoners.
As evangelicalism’s culture shifted in his direction, Wilson became less of a pariah. He built ties with more respectable leaders and showed a knack for generating attention and publicity. In the past few years, he’s been featured on Tucker Carlson’s podcast and shared a stage with the Southern Baptist Convention leader Albert Mohler.
Wilson’s greatest coup has been the recruitment of Hegseth by way of Potteiger. The attention has expanded Wilson’s access to megaphones such as the New York Times, and he appears intent on maintaining influence: since Hegseth was named secretary of defense, Wilson has announced that Potteiger will move to Washington DC to establish a new CREC church for Hegseth to attend.
Wilson does not seem particularly interested in the day-to-day minutiae of governance or war-fighting. When he was invited to preach at the Pentagon on 17 February, his sermon largely stayed above the fray, though he mused about whether the invitation itself could be a sign of “a black swan reformation” – an unexpected revival of Christianity in the US.
For his part, Hegseth has shown an unprecedented willingness to incorporate his personal beliefs into the official workings of the Department of Defense.
To Du Mez, Hegseth’s role atop the Pentagon – and apparent enthusiasm for starting conflicts – is alarming.
“For a long time, a lot of this seemed like bluster,” said Du Mez, noting that the leading lights of the militant masculinity movement, such as Billy Graham, Ronald Reagan and John Wayne, tended not to have actually served in the US military themselves. But with Hegseth, “you have the bluster, you have the rhetoric, you have that underlying ideology, and he’s been handed the reins of power,” Du Mez said. “What we’re living through now is seeing what happens when this ideology becomes national policy.”
With Hegseth, that doesn’t just mean waging war abroad, much as he seems to enjoy it. It means attempting to fulfil Wilson’s vision of a world governed by biblical law, a global Christendom. For that, the first step is establishing Christendom at home.
Scary stuff. But remember what I said before, about Wilson building his own little empire? That’s right. Accountable to no one, he surrounded himself with yes men. And he made sure women kept their mouths shut. The king of the hill, the ruler of his little fiefdoms. Which means, he’s spent decades of his life preaching to the choir. He publishes his own books, builds his own platforms, schools, magazines, networks, denominations.
As much as I disliked seeing Wilson move into the spotlight, I confess it has also been somewhat entertaining. Because every time he steps onto the national stage, I watch him stumble. Even when he is interviewed by friendly hosts. When he made his big Tucker Carlson debut, I could see he was off his rhythm. He is accustomed to controlling the conversation. And he’s used to yes men.
His interview with Ross Douthat in The New York Times felt the same way, as did moments in his widely-viewed CNN interview. Wilson is a diminished man when he doesn’t control the script and when he isn’t surrounded by deferential acolytes who laugh at his jokes and affirm his theological nonsense.
Don’t bother watching the CNN one right now, though. An even better example of this phenomenon released today, on Piers Morgan Uncensored.
This one is excruciating to watch. His nonsense, theological and otherwise, is on full display. His bluster doesn’t work without yes men telling him he’s right.
The emperor has no clothes, and it’s not a pretty sight. It is pretty dang funny, though, if you’ve followed Wilson over the years.
This is who he is. This is all he is. How on earth did he end up getting profiled on CNN and featured in The New York Times? The same way Trump became president. Wielding power, abusing power, convincing others that he’d wield power on their behalf and that they could get a little bit of that power for themselves. Power over others. Power to do harm, and call it righteous. Or, he’d use that power against him.
Watch this video. The Wilson section starts at 16:15. Watch it to the end, if you have time. It’s not pretty, but do it anyway.
If you don’t have the time or the stomach for it, here are a couple clips:
Piers Morgan calling him out on his dissembling rambling:
This, when Wilson complains about them attacking him, a “faith leader,” Wajahat Ali stands his ground:
Kudos to Wajahat Ali and Tim Miller for their role in this. I’m not sure that Miller was even all that familiar with Wilson before this interview, and that turned out to be a good thing. Watching his face is priceless. Wilson’s weak jokes fall flat. (In the immortal words of Kathleen Spinnenweber on X, “Wilson’s little joke about Jesus and socialism landed like a deflating balloon issuing its flatulent sigh.”) In his trademark fashion, Wilson speaks out of both sides of his mouth. He rambles. He delivers what he expects to be mic drops but nothing lands because, again, nonsense. Sometimes it’s so nonsensical that everyone just goes quiet. They don’t even know what to do with the guy. And then Miller stops calling him “pastor.” Because he’s nothing like Jesus.
“Let me bring a banger from the Bible,” Wajahat offers. “‘Beware of false prophets, who inwardly are ravening wolves.’ That’s for you, Pastor Wilson.”