Christian Nation (49 page)

Read Christian Nation Online

Authors: Frederic C. Rich

Tags: #General Fiction

BOOK: Christian Nation
11.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“So how many cells are there?”

“No one knows. At least I have no idea. I don’t know who formed the original cell. It’s like a chain letter—you are tapped and you tap three more people. Over time, it should produce huge numbers. It’s about the power of exponential numbers.”

“But you don’t know that. There could be only two cells in the whole country.”

Adam stared at the ceiling as if considering the possibility for the first time.

“Yes, you’re right. It’s possible. But I don’t think so. I think there are thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands. There has to be.”

“But how can anything get done? Do all cells act independently, or in pairs?”

“Mostly independently. But not in this,” he answered.

“This?”

“You. The memoir. This is … different,” Adam said, pausing. I waited. I am now nothing if not patient.

“Well, all I really know is that the plan came from somewhere above or outside my point’s base cell. Far above, I think. My point received a specific message for me. A message from someone who knew about you but also knew about me. Knew about this place. My point was told that I was to get to you and told how I was to do it. I was instructed to apply for the job at the archives. When I was hired, I knew that other FMs must be at work. I was told exactly what to do. I was told what to ask you to do. That’s all I know.”

“The woman who came a few weeks ago?”

“My point.”

“So what now?” I asked.

“The system in reverse. We have access to old copiers that are not networked. I will make six copies of the book, one for each other member of the cell where I am the point and also one for everyone in the cell where I am a member. Up and down. Each one of them will do the same. Many, many people, Greg, will read it. Exponential numbers.”

He did not seem to want to say the obvious. “But of course …”

I waited.

“Well, eventually a copy will come into their hands. They will know what you have done. They will come and get you.”

“And what about you and Sarah?” I asked. “What about the movement itself? This place? The book reveals it all. Should I take that out?”

“No. FM will do its best to take care of us, but both of us, and Sarah, will be fugitives for as long as the Christian Nation endures. This place will be sacrificed. There are lots more like it, and we want them to know that. We want them to know that FM is real. We want them to know what we can do. We want them to know we’re organized. We want them to fear us, and we want them to crack down harder. Each time they do, they take one step forward toward their own destruction. All authoritarian regimes, Greg, all of them, eventually collapse under the weight of their own contradictions.”

“I don’t see it,” I said. “Not this time. They control everything. There’s never been technology like the Purity Web. That changes everything. I’m not sure a little bit of cognitive dissonance will bring it all down.” I saw his right hand grip the table edge.

“That is
not
what I’m saying. Surely you of all people understand that ideas matter. They rule in the name of a religion that has love as its core value, and yet they came to power on a wave of hate. They preach peace, and came to power by violence. They venerate the Constitution, but subverted its core principle of individual rights. They say they love freedom but have created a technology that holds us all in its bondage. They say their core ideology is small government, but they have created the most intrusive and comprehensive authoritarian rule ever to exist. For God’s sake, Greg, that’s hardly a little bit of cognitive dissonance.”

It had been, of course, Sanjay’s argument as to why they should not succeed. Should, not would. He was always careful to distinguish between the two. If a movement based on such contradictions could take power, why couldn’t it maintain power? Adam continued.

“Greg, I know it’s hard to believe when they seem to hold all the cards. But believe me, they will self-destruct. Each time we show our hand, they crack down harder. The harder they crack down, the more people are turned to the opposition. Each turn of the screw is a step closer to the end. It’s just a question of whether it takes years or decades. And that matters a lot. So for FM, it’s all about accelerating the process.”

I
CANNOT HELP
wondering who you are. You, the reader. My reader. Who are you? Will I bring you anything more than danger? I honestly have no fear for myself. I am sorry for Adam and Sarah. I am sorry to leave this magical place. But I am certain that I have not done the wrong thing. I read once that the struggle of man against power is the struggle of memory against forgetting. So I have done my best to remember. Remembering is one of only two things that Sanjay ever asked me to do.

“Is it all true?” Adam asked this morning.

“It’s factual, as factual as I can make it. That is to say, it’s as I experienced it and as I remember it.”

“Then it is a powerful thing,” he said.

“Maybe, if truth still has power—if truth ever had power. But maybe truth is really a fragile thing, even impotent against the really big lie. I don’t know.”

“No,” Adam said, “we don’t know. But at least we’ll have it. Like the books hidden away in plain sight in the archives. They’re not read, but they’re not lost. That’s something.”

Last night at dinner, Adam asked me whether I hated the Holies.

“Do you?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered. “I do. Very much. More than anything. I would give my life to destroy them. You must too, Greg. You have to hate them. Not hating them is too passive … it’s a kind of death. But … it’s not entirely clear, from the book I mean, that you do. Do you?”

“I don’t know,” I answered carefully. “I really don’t know.”

But I do know. I do not hate them. How could I, when hate is what destroyed my life and my world? Actually, I could hate them. I’m not Sanjay. But I don’t. And perhaps Adam is right, perhaps I
should
hate them. But I don’t. Socrates, I think, said that deep desire is at the root of all hate. And I desire nothing. It’s true. Nothing. So perhaps that’s why I don’t hate them. I can hear Sanjay saying, as he often did, that only by setting aside desire can we find freedom. I used to think that his non-attachment was hollowness. A cop-out. But now I’m starting to understand. I wish he were here to talk to.

When Adam, Sarah, and I left the cabin, I did not look back. We walked down the rough path and clambered over the rocky ridge that served as a gate between our sanctuary and the harsh reality of the Christian Nation outside. We walked into the back door of the small guesthouse in Putnam Valley that we had left only three weeks before.


H
OW WAS YOUR
camping trip?” the innkeeper asked.

“Very nice,” said Adam. “Terrific weather. Lots of deer. No bears, though.”

“I’m glad,” the innkeeper said, handing us our Devices from the drawer under the counter.

He gave us a ride down to the train station in the small village of Garrison. The train back to New York City runs at water level along the east bank of the Hudson River.

“Did you know,” asked Adam, “that the Indians called it The River That Flows Both Ways? The Hudson is tidal. Twice a day, it reverses direction and flows upstream. Twice a day, a chance to recover lost ground.”

I looked out the window, and as the train lumbered south I watched the water flow slowly north around a large stone near the bank. It left a well-ordered wake, as if it were the stone, and not the water, that was moving. Adam continued his explanation.

“When the tide comes in, the fresh water flowing downstream is no match for the ocean. An invisible tide of salt water comes up from a trench deep below the surface, strong and dense enough to reverse the flow of the river above. Did you know that?”

“No,” I said. “I didn’t know that. But I do now.”

AFTERWORD

C
RITICS OF THIS
BOOK
may suggest that it overstates the influence of the dominionist and reconstructionist theologies within the evangelical movement as a whole, and thus exaggerates the probability of theocracy should the Christian right obtain the political power it has long sought. Were this novel intended as a prediction about the most likely outcome of the “culture wars,” that criticism might be deserved. But this novel is not such a prediction; instead, it is intended as a warning that such an outcome is
possible
. And because this possible outcome would be so catastrophic were it to occur, the resulting risk demands our vigilant attention. By illustrating what our homegrown fundamentalists mean when they say America should be a “Christian Nation,” I hope this book will cause its readers to think twice about politicians who justify their public policy agenda on the basis of the Bible or who sprinkle their political speech with references to the desires of God. Support for the constitutional design of a secular state, with no religious belief receiving preference over any other, should be common ground for all Americans, conservative and liberal, religious and secular.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I
GRATEFULLY ACKNOWLEDGE
the fine books by journalists and scholars that first alerted me to the danger to our democracy posed by Christian fundamentalism. These include, among others,
American Fascists: The Christian Right and the War on America
and
Empire of Illusion: The End of Literacy and the Triumph of Spectacle
, both by Chris Hedges;
Kingdom Coming: The Rise of Christian Nationalism
, by Michelle Goldberg;
The Family: The Secret Fundamentalism at the Heart of American Power
, by Jeff Sharlet;
American Theocracy
, by Kevin Philips; and
Republican Gomorrah
, by Max Blumenthal. I acknowledge and credit these works as my primary sources for the theology and ambitions of Christian nationalism, its totalitarian precedents and authoritarian tendencies, and many of the historical quotes and incidents that illustrate the power of the movement prior to 2008.

I am grateful to legendary editor Star Lawrence for his faith in this book and superb editorial direction. I also owe a debt to his assistant, Ryan Harrington, and to all their colleagues at Norton who worked with alacrity and professionalism to bring this work to readers.

Many friends assisted me on the long journey from initial idea to finished book. These include Lauren Belfer, Devendra Chauhan, Elliot Figman and his colleagues at
Poets & Writers
, Ham Fish, David Foster, Pat Hass, Rick and Carol Hamlin, Don Lamm, Jeanette Limondjian, Elinor Lipman, Caroline Niemczyk, Ru Rauch, Ted Rogers, Jonathan Rose, and Theresa Volpe. And most of all, I am grateful to my law partners, who are the finest colleagues one could imagine and who have given me ample scope to pursue my many interests while at the same time providing a professional practice of unparalleled interest and challenge.

CREDITS

Excerpt from Will and Ariel Durant’s
The Story of Civilization
. Reprinted with the permission of Simon & Schuster, Inc., from
The Story of Civilization, Volume 1: Our Oriental Heritage
. Copyright © 1935 by Will Durant. Copyright © renewed 1963 by Will Durant. All rights reserved.

Excerpt from Milan Kundera’s
The Book of Laughter and Forgetting
courtesy of Linda Asher.

Excerpts from Hannah Arendt’s
The Origins of Totalitarianism
. Copyright © 1973, 1968, 1966, 1958, 1951, 1948 by Hannah Arendt and renewed 2001, 1996, 1994, 1986 by Lotte Kohler, Copyright renewed 1979 by Mary McCarthy West, Copyright renewed 1976 by Hannah Arendt. Reprinted by permission of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company. All rights reserved. Reprinted courtesy of Andre Deutsch (2004). Used by Permission of Carlton Books, UK.

Excerpt from Ken Wilber’s
Sex, Ecology, Spirituality.
© 1995, 2000. Published by arrangement with Shambhala Publications, Inc.

Rev. Howard Bess quoted in excerpt from Joe McGinniss’s
The Rogue: Searching for the Real Sarah Palin
. © 2011. Courtesy of Random House, Inc.

Other books

Bittersweet Creek by Sally Kilpatrick
Hollywood on Tap by Avery Flynn
A Gentleman Undone by Cecilia Grant
Kiss Kiss by Dahl, Roald
The Secret of the Emerald Sea by Heather Matthews
Huckleberry Spring by Jennifer Beckstrand