"Teammates" by Temperament
The new(er) litmus test for belonging and exclusion on the political Right
A few years ago, I found myself at a gathering of pastors where a candidate for a pastoral role recounted a critical moment from his interview process. A member of the church's search committee asked him, "Are you a Calvinist?"
His reply was remarkably perceptive: “Are you asking a question about theology or temperament?”
It turned out the committee (sadly) had only a mild interest in his theology—but a pronounced concern for his temperament. If you know, you know. If you don’t… that’s probably for the best.
That interaction has stuck with me—not just for its wit and wisdom, but because it points to a broader phenomenon I’ve observed, both in church subculture and in the culture at large: the tendency to categorize people not by what they believe or practice, but by the tone and disposition with which they carry those beliefs.
After the assassination of Charlie Kirk, a prominent pastor remarked that the “too conservative for liberals, too liberal for conservatives” crowd is being exposed for the frauds they are. At times, I’ve wondered if I inhabit that category. But I don’t. Theologically, socially, and morally, every conviction I hold is—by all accounts—firmly conservative. No one has ever questioned this.
Why, then, in quiet reflection, would I even consider myself to be in the crosshairs of such a comment? During an afternoon hitting golf balls onto the wrong fairways, the answer emerged with startling clarity: it was my temperament and tone. This is a difficult—and even pretentious-feeling—reality to acknowledge.
As much as it pains me to admit, there is often a particular “feel” that accompanies the comments and personal interactions of many who would identify themselves as squarely right-of-center: unwavering confidence, maximal candor, inability to sympathize, admitting error only by divine intervention, and waiting to talk instead of listening well. Somewhere, somehow, the opposite of all those things became associated with the dispositional currency of progressives.
I realized that I squarely exemplified right-wing orthodoxy but departed from (much of) right-wing interpersonal orthopraxy. I represented, for many, the (regrettable) paradox of the kind, non-snarky Calvinist.
Which brings us to the present. I have come to terms with the fact that I am not temperamentally “right enough” for many of my colleagues, and that makes some of them nervous—despite my down-the-middle conservative stances in every area. This realization has raised for me a variety of compelling questions related to temperament, soft skills, and socio-political classifications. Two of those questions are worth briefly considering.
First, how is it that caring dispositions, humble presentations, and cordial interactions have come to be considered the interpersonal currency of the Left rather than the Right? Paradoxically, and contrary to popular sentiment, the average inhabitant of the political Left fares no better in exemplifying these things across the board than the average inhabitant of the political Right. For some conservatives, this may feel like gaslighting, but the truth is that most people, regardless of persuasion, are exceedingly mediocre (I’m feeling generous today) at humble presentation and cordial disagreement when partisan issues are on the table.
Remember, the regular practice of calling people hateful bigots and misogynists because they hold a biblical view of sex/marriage and are pro-life is strongly associated with the Left side of the spectrum, not the Right. Mere disagreement here is sufficient to be angrily demonized. Nor is this pattern somehow “canceled out” by the gentle and thoughtful dispositions that quickly materialize when discussing the fate of immigrants, for example. Neither side is good at having challenging conversations, because people in general—I’m sorry to say—are not good at having challenging conversations.
How, then, have “charitable, interpersonal vibes,” to use an obtuse phrase, come under conservative attack through association with the Left side of the socio-political spectrum? Answer: genuine conversational charity, humility, and care have suffered from collateral damage in the sustained but necessary war on being “nice.” As a category, being “nice” has unfortunately been culturally poisoned by a kind of sympathy, acceptance, and affirmation untethered from objective foundations and unwilling to rebuke falsehood for the sake of people’s feelings. This brand of “niceness” (as opposed to biblical kindness guided by truth, for example) is a strong progressive motif and pretends virtue despite being more therapeutic than ethical. It takes all of the feel-good aesthetics and leaves firm rebuke and calls to repentance to the “mean, judgmental people.”
Because of this, conservatives (like me) attempting to advance the truth through measured and charitable interaction often receive from their right-wing colleagues an unfounded and “vibe-driven” verdict of ‘impostor’ or ‘squishy.’ For many, soft skills simply feel too close to poisoned “niceness,” and those demonstrating them, therefore, are held in suspicion. I suspect that many conservatives have suffered this evaluative injustice, and fellow conservatives making this mistake do so both to their own detriment and to the detriment of conservatism as a whole. They need to do better.
We should pause to say, though, that conservatives who are holding out this mushy, bastardized form of Christian kindness—driven by feelings and lacking rebuke—need to repent. Bottom line: it’s strange enough that interpersonal charity and gentleness have become politically associated; that such associations are not truly distinguishing in the first place only ratchets up the explanatory work required to understand where we’re at.
The second (and more harrowing) tone-related concern is the phenomenon of the temperamental conservative. Here, we can afford to be brief. The temperamental—or “temperament-defined”—conservative is a right-associating individual who has very little idea about what they are trying to conserve and is certain Thomas Jefferson was a Christian. They know the token issues, the “right” candidates, and the policies about which to be vocal, but beneath that veneer lies a psychic vacuum energized more by enemies to conquer than by anything positive to pursue or build.
The number of “temperament-primary” conservatives seems likely to continue to grow as the Left edge continues to press outward. They are ready for battle, loud on the socials, and their deepest fear is being called—well, we’ll go with “a coward.” They are thrilled that the Right feels like a tougher fighting force and have enlisted in its ranks with little more than conservative CliffNotes and partisan bravado passed on by parents or friends. They would probably benefit more from seeing a counselor than advancing a cause, but “getting help” feels humiliating. Armed with just enough right-leaning conviction to be dangerous, their rhetorical gusto and posturing is often sufficient to evade probing questions about the rootedness of their beliefs; firing in a leftward direction is sufficient to both earn and keep their spot on the team.
Surely all sober-minded conservatives can agree: something here has gone badly wrong, and it would seem that the elevation of temperament, tone, and disposition over principles is primarily to blame.
Returning to where we started, my buddy got that job. He’s a five-point Calvinist—and more importantly, he’s humble, kind, and wise. I’ve never forgotten his answer to that deceptively simple question. And I continue to reflect on the broader implications it raises, both for me personally and the national landscape more broadly. The social and political Right is already far more diverse than many would care to admit. But if we are now willing to discount conservatives with soft skills through guilt by association while applauding the part of our roster defined primarily by temperament, then the category of ‘conservative’ may die the death of so many categories before it, suffering so much conceptual distortion that it ceases to communicate anything meaningful.
And that, it seems to me, is a troubling possibility. Perhaps we should re-evaluate what’s going—and start “calling it like it is.”