I hear talk amid the resurgence of a Religious Right about the need for more partisan loyalty. What was once an argument about voting “the lesser of two evils” has, for some, morphed into claiming the lesser evil is in fact good—that dogged political commitment to one side, adopting all its principles and policies, signals faithfulness, proves we “know what time it is,” and ensures Christian conservatives will win the culture war. The bigger danger today isn’t that the church gets tied to a political party but that the church might miss the opportunity to mobilize and then exercise power for the common good.
What stands in the way of this rejuvenated political movement? Most often, it’s not the people on the opposite side of the aisle but those who are like-minded in values yet hesitant to jump on board and accept the entire package of principles and policies put forth by the party. On social media, the harshest epithets are usually reserved for those who won’t get with the program.
On Bundling and the Party Package
None of this is new. When it comes to political principles and policies, party identification almost always bundles beliefs. That’s what a party is: a collection of people with disparate convictions, united temporarily around shared aims, living—often uneasily—with others who may be worlds apart on some issues but form an alliance to push forward a common program.
Over time, party identification draws people toward agreement with the majority’s positions. Research shows that if you align with Republicans because you’re pro-life, you’re more likely to oppose strict gun control measures. If you join Democrats because of their stance on health care, you’re more likely to support the array of LGBT+ causes. This is how party influence works: Parties form their participants. The package is powerful (which is why, for example, we’ve seen the gradual disappearance of virtually any pro-life presence among elected Democrats at the national level).
Beliefs, principles, and policy prescriptions come as a package. You may initially agree with only one or two positions in the bundle, but over time, you’re likely to align more of your views with the party because that’s how social dynamics work. Have you noticed how easy it is, once you’ve heard someone share one political opinion, to predict where they stand on a host of seemingly unrelated issues? That’s the party line at work. If one opinion predicts the rest, the bundle is doing your thinking.
Shifting Party Lines
But this internal logic of party fidelity makes sense only in a particular time and place. It doesn’t translate easily to other parts of the world or previous generations.
Take environmental concerns. In today’s U.S. context, worry about climate change codes “left.” Conservative Christians concerned about global warming may get accused of being subversively “progressive” on everything else. That’s how the package works: If one of your convictions seems to line up with the other side, you must be secretly sympathetic to a different party’s platform.
But widen the frame and you’ll see how peculiar this tunnel vision is. In many parts of the world, concern over climate conditions isn’t bound to one political side. And in earlier eras, the lines were flipped. The conservationist movement was spurred by Teddy Roosevelt; Richard Nixon established the Environmental Protection Agency; Ronald Reagan fought for a cap-and-trade emissions policy—all Republican presidents.
Another example: I remember my surprise at meeting Bible-believing Christians in Romania who opposed capital punishment. I assumed they must be politically liberal. But their view didn’t come from a partisan package. It arose from living under past dictatorships where the government exercised the death penalty unjustly. Their opposition sounded more like small-government conservatism—skeptical of concentrated power—than a progressive “soft on crime” stance.
Parties are always shifting. Free-trade enthusiasts a decade ago now cheer tariffs and express warmth toward unions. It’s jarring to watch clips of senators who once demanded strict immigration enforcement now opposing meaningful restrictions altogether. The lines move constantly.
Russian Literature and Authentic Belief
Gary Saul Morson, in a recent Touchstone essay—“Beyond Belief: Literary Reflections on Thoughtless Conformity”—reflects on this tendency through decades of studying Russian literature. He recalls an older professor who waited to see how younger colleagues voted in a faculty meeting before raising his hand. When Morson spoke with him later, he realized the man’s “reasons were an afterthought, a mere rationalization. What he really seemed to believe was that he should profess whatever was prescribed opinion. Having ascertained that opinion, he seemed to accept it on its merits.”
That’s the psychology of bundling: We join the tribe first; the arguments arrive later. Counterevidence rarely changes such minds because evidence wasn’t the reason the position was adopted in the first place.
In a sense, a person who holds opinions this way sincerely believes them. He may be genuinely angry when other beliefs are expressed or lose sleep when an election goes the wrong way. And yet, if to believe means to accept a view because one has really thought about it, something other than belief is involved when an opinion is adopted as part of a package.
Tolstoy and the Party Spirit
Morson shows how Tolstoy offers a vivid illustration of this dynamic. In Anna Karenina, Stiva Oblonsky doesn’t arrive at his opinions through reflection or conviction; he simply adopts whatever ideas are fashionable among his peers. Tolstoy writes that Stiva “had not chosen his political opinions or his views” any more than he had chosen “the shapes of his hat and coat.” Opinions, like clothing, were a matter of style. So he read the liberal paper of the day and “firmly held those views . . . which were held by the majority,” changing them only when they “seemed to change of themselves within him.”
For Tolstoy, this is the essence of thoughtlessness—conviction without contemplation. Stiva imagines himself principled, but his beliefs shift automatically with the cultural tide. His friend Levin, by contrast, is always reconsidering, revising, and wrestling with the truth. His views often put him at odds with every faction, but that independence is precisely the mark of genuine reflection.
Morson also draws on Czesław Miłosz, who acknowledged the Communist Party’s pull on writers. What really matters, Miłosz explained, is “the intellectual’s feeling of belonging.” His defining characteristic is “his fear of thinking for himself.” Over time, he “can no longer differentiate his true self from the self he simulates,” speaking only in party slogans.
Breaking the Bundle
“Breaking free from the chorus requires courage,” Morson concludes. “Unless one understands how this pressure to conform works, one will not grasp why, in political life, counterevidence fails to persuade people, or why even those who know better can’t bring themselves to defy consensus.”
It pays to bundle. It’s painful to resist. But it’s principled to refuse.
Andrew Fuller, one of the forefathers in the Baptist tradition, warned about bundling:
If we enlist under the banners of the party in power, considered as a party, we shall be disposed to vindicate or palliate all their proceedings, which may be very inconsistent with Christianity. . . . We ought to beware of applauding every thing that is done, lest, if it be evil, we be partakers of other men’s sins, and contribute to their being repeated. . . . Those who favour the sentiments of a set of men in one thing, will be in danger of thinking favourably of them in others; at least, they will not be apt to view them in so ill a light.
As Christians, one way we stand out in the world is by recognizing when such bundling is taking place—and by holding our party affiliation loosely, ready to buck consensus when something conflicts with natural law, the moral vision of Scripture, or common-sense legislation for the good of our neighbors.
Let’s be realistic: You’ll feel lonely at times. You won’t fit in neatly. You may become a target for fellow party members who suspect you’re not “committed” enough to whatever ideology is currently in vogue. But the reward is that you remain settled even as party boundaries shift. You grow in courage and lessen your fear of man. Most of all, you stay centered on the gospel, keeping the main thing the main thing, no matter how the party lines may fall.
In a world where these political dynamics are ever-present, the one place where we can stand firm is the unshakable foundation of God’s revelation—truths etched into creation and declared in his Word. Don’t twist conviction into conformity or trade your conscience for acceptance.
You don’t need to dig in—just stand. Carefully consider. Think. Reason. Let the wisdom of Scripture—not the shifting winds of party or platform—set your course. When partisan lines get redrawn, when loyalty tests arise, think for yourself. You may vote with a party, but you belong to a kingdom. So stand, clear-eyed and steady, bearing witness to the truth that challenges every party and every platform.
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