In a time of existential challenges—climate collapse, AI disruption, the death of a progressive Pope Francis, during a time of a corrupt career criminal and onvicted felon, adjudicated sexual abuser POTUS, Donald Trump, global inequality—one might expect our politics to be forward-facing, grounded in science, reason, and inclusion. Instead, a strange and troubling regression has taken hold, especially within the modern Republican Party: a collective yearning for the past, not just in policy but in worldview. And at the center of this nostalgia is religion—not as a source of private meaning, but as a tool of political revivalism.
As we reflect on Earth Day, I can’t help but remember my first experience on April 22, 1972, when I joined my high school scuba club to clean up under the Tacoma Old Town dock. It was a small but meaningful way to contribute to preserving our planet, and it set the foundation for my lifelong commitment to environmental awareness.
While the past is not sacred, it’s important to recognize the lessons it holds as we approach the present with open eyes and prepare for the future. What holds us back from looking forward and taking proactive steps? For decades, modern American conservatism, the Republican Party, certain religious groups, some traditions, ignorance, and harmful intentions have all worked to prevent progress. Their efforts often keep us from doing what’s best for everyone, not just a powerful few.
Voices like New York Times columnist Ross Douthat promote the idea that “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom,” suggesting we should return to a time when belief in a higher power—specifically a Christian one—was considered the bedrock of civilization. In his book Believe: Why Everyone Should Believe, Douthat claims that religion is essential, not optional. It's a seductive message in a chaotic world: return to the old ways, and clarity will follow.
But this logic is both historically flawed and philosophically hollow.
There was a time, millennia ago, when religion helped people interpret a mysterious world. It gave shape to fear, offered rituals for grief, and bound early societies. But that usefulness expired the moment religion resisted growth. When science, rational inquiry, and humanistic philosophy began illuminating reality, many religious institutions responded not with curiosity, but with persecution. Heretics were burned. Scientists were imprisoned. Women were accused of witchcraft. And to this day, religious ideology continues to be used to suppress marginalized groups, censor knowledge, and deny bodily autonomy.
Rather than step aside as humanity evolved, religion dug in its heels—and in some corners, it still is.
Today’s Christian nationalism, anti-science rhetoric, and rigid moral codes aren't about "faith" in any meaningful or compassionate sense. They're about power. They're about recasting civil society in the mold of a past that was not simpler or purer—but more hierarchical, more patriarchal, and more controlled. A past where obedience was prized over inquiry, and where the "truth" could only be spoken from a pulpit.
This isn’t spiritual; it’s strategic. It’s theocratic nostalgia masquerading as moral clarity.
And it’s deeply incompatible with modern democratic life.
True wisdom doesn’t begin with fear. It begins with curiosity. With doubt. With the courage to ask hard questions about ourselves, our institutions, and our assumptions. Religion can still offer community, art, and metaphorical insight. But it cannot, and must not, be allowed to masquerade as the sole authority on ethics, identity, or truth.
We are not in a moral vacuum. We are in a moral reckoning. And it demands more from us than ancient texts and fearful obedience. It demands that we move forward—not back.
Compiled with aid of ChatGPT
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