There are occasions in public life when the irony becomes so extraordinary, so complete, and so perfectly fitted to the pretensions of the people involved that one almost hesitates to comment upon it, because anything we might add seems superfluous. The spectacle itself has already preached the sermon.
In my last Sunday message on this channel, I spoke about the Spanish politician Íñigo Errejón, a man of the radical Left who spent years presenting himself as a friend of feminism and an advocate for women, and who belonged to that political generation which never seemed to suffer from any shortage of so-called progressive and "enlightened" moral instruction for the rest of mankind. These people were going to teach society how men ought to behave, how women ought to be protected, what attitudes were permissible, what words could be spoken, what arrangements were sufficiently progressive, and what ancient customs had to be swept away in the glorious march toward their enlightened utopian future.
And then there is Eric Swalwell in America.
During the great fever of the #MeToo years, when accusation itself was too frequently treated in public discourse as something perilously close to conviction, Swalwell was not exactly hiding beneath his desk begging everybody to exercise restraint. He publicly proclaimed his support for survivors and employed the language of “Believe Survivors.” He was quite prepared, like so many politicians of that period, to stand beneath the fashionable banner of the hour and participate in the great liberal crusade.
Now here is where the story becomes interesting.
Today Errejón himself faces grave allegations of sexual assault and legal proceedings in Spain, allegations which he denies. Swalwell likewise faces serious allegations of sexual misconduct and assault, which he denies, together with official scrutiny in the United States. Neither man's guilt should be presumed merely because an accusation has been made against him, and I say that deliberately, because an allegation is not a conviction, an accusation is not evidence sufficient unto itself, and a civilized people ought to understand that elementary distinction. Remember: we are not like them. We have standards of fairness and justice that are alien to God's enemies.
But oh the irony! For what an astonishing education in due process a man may receive when the accusation finally bears HIS name!
What remarkable discoveries become possible when the tribunal turns around, when the slogans cease to concern some hated political opponent, when the newspaper headline contains your photograph, and when the finger which yesterday pointed conveniently outward is suddenly pointing directly at you.
Then we discover qualifications, evidence, and the presumption of innocence.
Then we discover that accusations must be examined carefully, that witnesses may be questioned, that facts matter, that circumstances matter, that a man's denial ought at least to be heard, and that justice requires something rather more substantial than a fashionable slogan shouted by an angry multitude.
And do not misunderstand me: those principles are RIGHT. They were right yesterday, they are right today, and they will remain right tomorrow. If Eric Swalwell or Íñigo Errejón is innocent of what has been alleged against him, then he ought not to be condemned for crimes he did not commit. If either man is guilty, then let the evidence establish it and let lawful justice follow. That is what civilized justice is supposed to mean.
But therein lies the delicious and almost providential irony of the entire affair.
The same political culture which spent years teaching men that skepticism toward an accusation was quite literally a moral defect must now explain why skepticism, caution, evidence, procedure, and the presumption of innocence suddenly become rather precious things when one of its own champions stands accused.
It reminds me of an old truth which modern political man, in all his supposed sophistication, has never managed to abolish: the measure by which you measure others has an inconvenient habit of finding its way back to your own door.
Christianity teaches something considerably less flattering and considerably more realistic. It does not divide mankind into one enlightened political class possessing virtue and another benighted class possessing vice. Scripture says, “For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.” Man does not cease to be a sinner because he has learned the correct political vocabulary. He does not become pure because he calls himself progressive. He does not acquire chastity by attending feminist demonstrations, nor righteousness by placing fashionable slogans beneath his name. In fact, if chastity were the true goal, you'd sooner be chaste by simply being a member/element of Gen Z, no math pun intended, than by going to rallies.
Indeed, one of the oldest follies in human history is the spectacle of sinful men constructing magnificent systems for the correction of everybody except themselves.
And this is why I find the cases of Swalwell and Errejón so instructive, quite apart from whatever the courts and investigators ultimately determine concerning the accusations themselves. I do not need to pronounce either man guilty in order to observe the breathtaking irony. The irony exists precisely because men who participated in a political culture so eager to instruct everyone else concerning accusations against men must now depend upon those old, unfashionable safeguards which suddenly do not seem quite so antiquated after all.
How curious that yesterday's obstacles to “believing survivors” can become today's indispensable protections when the accused man happens to be standing on the "correct" side of the political aisle.
Perhaps the old ways were not quite as foolish as our "enlightened" halfwit revolutionaries imagined. Perhaps human nature did not change because somebody invented a silly hashtag. Perhaps justice requires more wisdom than can be squeezed onto a greased up protest placard.
And perhaps before a man climbs upon the judgment seat and begins instructing the whole civilization in righteousness, he ought to remember the famous words of Jesus Christ:
“For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.” — Matthew 7:2
The political fashions come and go. The slogans rise and disappear. Today's moral celebrity becomes tomorrow's embarrassment, and the movement which promised to change society discovers, sooner or later, that its own house is inhabited by the same fallen human beings whom it presumed to lecture.
The Word of God, meanwhile, remains, and lost men like Errejon and Swalwell will end up perishing in hell, lest they repent, turn to Christ, and ask for forgiveness.
Alfred Cromwell
Mandeville, Louisiana at 5:48pm local time