Ownership vs. Elite
The tradeoff evangelicals face: Prioritize owned institutions for cultural survival, or invest in elite pathways for broader societal impact?
I have several follow-up pieces planned to talk further about what I’ve dubbed “the evangelical elite problem.” Today, I want to start by highlighting a small matter about pursuing ownership vs. an elite position.
A couple of weeks ago I highlighted part of a response by Albert Thompson to my evangelical elite article in First Things.
Many evangelicals understand ownership, but they do not understand governance. Evangelical business success is concentrated in sectors like retail, restaurants, and distribution—niche fiefs, where the power of ownership is absolute. This is effective for building a company with a relatively predictable business model, but it is a poor preparation for the commanding heights of society. Institutional power in places like high finance, the Supreme Court, or elite universities requires a different social capital: the ability to marshal a consensus among the governed and to navigate complex, high-trust systems that you do not personally own. When evangelicals bring a fief mindset to politics or public institutions, they may win a few elections, but often fail to create durable institutions that flourish and survive in a messy and fallen world. Instead, they become lords of gated enclaves and public square paupers. [emphasis added]
I said it reminded me of a Law & Liberty essay I’ve referenced before that talks about the difference between “car dealers” and “New Dealers.” Evangelicals are car dealers (sometimes literally) whereas elites are New Dealers.
One of the themes of my writing has been that evangelicals need to become more focused on ownership. Ownership provides sovereignty in a world where institutions can’t be trusted or relied on, and where many people may not like you. Ownership allows you to sustain your way of life in the face of unfriendly social currents (to a point).
Just as an example, evangelicals have been building their own educational institutions such as classical Christian schools or homeschooling. They are building these things for the same reasons that the Catholic Church built out its parochial school network, to educate their children in values-aligned institutions, not the mainstream institutions that were not. (In the case of the Catholics, this was because they perceived public schools as too Protestant).
The problem is that going through an evangelical education pipeline through to college channels young people away from elite pathways and networks. It’s not a hard and fast ban. Lots of people who go to religious schools get into elite colleges. Plenty of people who go to Christian colleges get into elite graduate programs. And people who never went to an elite school nevertheless join the American elite.
Still, we have to be honest that there’s a tension between these things. The more we focus on building and participating in private ecosystems, the less we can focus on participating in and benefitting from public, mainstream ecosystems.
It’s all too easy to construct a ghetto and spend your days operating inside of it.
Everything in life involves tradeoffs. Everyone out there is allocating their time between various ecosystems, public and private, deciding which ones to participate in, etc. You can’t get everything you want with just one choice, and every unique mix has its own upsides and downsides.
I continue to think it makes sense for most evangelicals to focus on building up more owned space and institutions. For most people, considerations like elite pathways don’t even apply.
But for those people who have the talent and inclination towards pursuing positions and accomplishments at the highest levels of society, it makes sense to allocation much more time and effort towards participation in the institutions and networks that lead that direction.
For example, in contrast to the “college doesn’t matter” people, I’ve always argued that where you go to school is crucial in determining what opportunities and networks you will get access to. So absolutely you should think about going to the most prestigious school you can get into (assuming you are able to get into a highly prestigious one. If you can’t, that’s probably telling you something right there).
I’m definitely not someone who promotes a one-size-fits-all approach. However, I did want to highlight some tensions between various themes I’ve written about in my work.
Cover image: The Ambrose School, Boise, ID
Another good one. Through an odd set of circumstances I found myself at Harvard. Being an alumnus has certainly opened doors over the years. One thing that is invaluable is the experience of being in class every day with people who were all the "big fish in the small pond" and are all competing in the big pond for the first time. At one and the same time it removes the mystique of the elite and it gives you a sense of where you stand in terms of your ability. I don't think there's any substitute for that.
To this day, I wish that I had aimed higher than Wheaton College, but no one in my life was pushing me to think beyond my current frame of reference as a kid who liked theology, grew up in the OPC, and went to a small private Christian school. Add to this that before graduating from Wheaton, I chose not to keep climbing the status ladder in either secular academia or its Christian variants. That has left me feeling unmoored for nearly a decade now.