Reliance on Government: A Reflection of Distrust in Humanity
In a recent opinion piece published by The Union, Daryl Grigsby argues for a vision of a “Christian America” that hinges on government intervention to address societal ills like poverty, homelessness, and inequality. While his intentions may stem from compassion, this type of argument reveals a deeper, troubling premise – an implicit lack of faith in humanity’s ability to care for itself. Grigsby’s reliance on the state as the primary mechanism for helping the needy not only undermines the potential of individual goodwill but also betrays a skepticism about the very people he claims to champion. True compassion, particularly from a Christian perspective, should rest on trust in mankind’s capacity for generosity and mutual aid and not on the coercive arm of bureaucracy.
Grigsby’s piece opens with a nod to Christian values, invoking the teachings of Christ about caring for “the least of these.” He cites biblical calls to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and shelter the homeless, framing these as imperatives for a moral society. Yet rather than emphasizing the role of individuals, churches, or communities in fulfilling these commands, he quickly pivots to government as the solution. He praises policies like welfare programs, affordable housing initiatives, and healthcare subsidies, suggesting that a “Christian America” is one where the state steps in to enforce charity. This leap from personal responsibility to governmental mandate is striking. It assumes that without top-down control, people will not rise to the occasion reflecting a premise based upon cynicism rather than faith.
Consider the parable of the Good Samaritan, a story Grigsby might well have in mind. A man beaten and left for dead is ignored by religious elites but aided by a stranger who binds his wounds, pays for his lodging, and ensures his recovery all without a government program in sight. The Samaritan’s actions were voluntary and driven by empathy and a sense of duty. Jesus did not conclude this tale by advocating for a state-run roadside assistance fund, but rather he told his followers to “go and do likewise.” Grigsby’s vision, however, seems to lack confidence that modern Samaritans exist, or that they could be numerous enough to make a difference. Instead, he turns to the state as a surrogate for human kindness, thus implying that coercion is necessary where goodwill falls short.
This reliance on government is not just a practical preference; it is a statement about humanity’s character. By leaning on systemic government solutions, Grigsby suggests that individuals cannot be trusted to act charitably on their own. History and contemporary examples challenge this view. Before the modern welfare state, mutual aid societies, religious charities, and local communities sustained the needy through voluntary cooperation. In the 19th century, fraternal organizations in America, such as Knights of Columbus, provided insurance, healthcare, and support to millions without a single tax dollar. Today, groups like food banks, church outreach programs, and crowdfunding campaigns demonstrate that people still step up when they see suffering. Faith in government over these efforts reveals a belief that mankind is too selfish or apathetic to care for its own in stark contrast to the Christian doctrine of inherent worth and potential in every person.
Moreover, government solutions often come with strings attached, inefficiency, dependency, and a loss of personal agency. When the state becomes the default provider, it crowds out private initiative thereby reducing the needy to mere recipients rather than partners in their own upliftment. A 2021 study by the Foundation for Economic Education found that private charities consistently deliver aid more efficiently than government programs with less overhead and more direct impact. Indeed, one only need examine the exorbitant salaries of Nevada County executives as ample evidence of gross inefficiency of government versus private charity. Yet Grigsby seems unbothered by these trade-offs, perhaps because he doubts that private efforts could scale without state enforcement. This skepticism dismisses the creativity and resilience of human beings working together outside bureaucratic confines.
Grigsby’s argument also sidesteps a deeper theological tension. Christianity teaches that faith without works is dead and places the onus on individuals to live out that faith and not on Caesar to mandate it. When Jesus fed the 5,000, he did not petition Rome for a food distribution program; he multiplied loaves and fishes through divine power and human participation. Grigsby’s “Christian America” inverts this model, outsourcing moral responsibility to a secular authority. If he truly believes in the transformative power of Christ’s teachings, why not trust that those teachings could inspire ordinary people to act without a government middleman?
Ultimately, reliance on government as the answer to human suffering signals a lack of faith in humanity itself. It assumes that compassion must be legislated because it will not arise organically. A truly Christian vision, or any vision rooted in hope, would look first to the hearts of men and women, trusting that they can reflect the divine spark within them. Grigsby’s piece, for all its moral earnestness, betrays a pessimism about his fellow man that undercuts its own ideals. If we want a society that cares for the needy, perhaps we should start by believing in each other and not just in the state.
