The neutrality of ‘Civil War’ is what makes the film powerful
The movie could help stir a real debate across the aisle in America
Alex Garland’s box office hit, Civil War, which is set in a future America at war with itself, has drawn criticism for not telling audiences what caused the conflict—and for its refusal to more realistically portray the battle lines that divide Red and Blue America. That critique not only gets the movie wrong, but it’s also blinding people to the film’s potential to positively influence the US political landscape, including the presidential poll.
The power of Civil War lies in the question it forces us to ask: “How could this have happened here?” In a recent column calling Garland’s evasion of that question “a total cop-out,” New York Times columnist Ross Douthat offered several possibilities: defeat in a war with China that causes an economic crisis, a pandemic that leads states to close borders, new technology like AI that fuels desperation or a climate catastrophe. I was astonished that Douthat, who frequently writes about religion, did not mention another dangerous force: Christian nationalism. But nor did he do so in a 2022 column throwing cold water on Barbara F. Walter’s outstanding book, How Civil Wars Start. Douthat is hardly the only conservative who seems to be in denial about the threat that Christian nationalism poses to US democracy. The danger of that denialism is powerfully brought home in Bad Faith, an excellent new documentary now streaming on Apple TV.
Like the Rob Reiner-produced film God and Country, which came out earlier this year, Bad Faith draws on Katherine Stewart’s 2019 book, The Power Worshippers, which pulls the curtain back on evangelical efforts to erase the line between church and state in legislative bodies, public schools and courtrooms—and to turn America into a theocracy, by any means necessary.
The films and book sound the alarm that some of Garland’s critics wish Civil War had incorporated, and understandably so. As Bad Faith makes clear, theocrats were in the vanguard of the 6 January attempted coup. Today, as some evangelical pastors speak of a coming civil war, religiosity is increasingly at the centre of former US president Donald Trump’s campaign. Some of his rallies end with a prayer that mimics evangelical altar calls, when congregants approach the altar and commit themselves to Jesus. Trump-branded Bibles seem like an attempt to blur the line between Donald and deity—and to tie his political trials to the persecution of Jesus. Recently, Trump shared an article headlined, ‘The Crucifixion of Donald Trump.’
And he has not ruled out more violence— potentially much worse violence—should he lose again this year.
In this sense, critics of Civil War have a valid point. It is almost impossible to talk about an American civil war without talking about Christian nationalism’s theocratic goals and violent tendencies.
Nevertheless, it’s also almost impossible for Democrats to engage conservatives on the topic of political violence by harping on Christian nationalism. Like Douthat, many conservatives just do not see—or do not want to believe—the connection. And that is precisely what makes the political neutrality of Civil War a virtue.
Had Garland’s plot mirrored current politics, conservatives might have shunned the movie as another example of Hollywood’s liberal bias. Instead, he helped open a door for Trump’s opponents, giving them a chance to extend the discussion of political violence—and the ruinous, horrifying consequences it could bring—to the very people who will probably decide the November election.
Or, in other words: Garland has done what Democrats have spent more than three years trying to do with little success: inviting more Republicans and independents into the most important conversation in America.
The question is: What are Democrats doing to capitalize on it?
Liberal complaints about Civil War, like complaints about the bad faith of evangelicals, won’t move any votes. Encouraging Republicans to watch Bad Faith probably won’t be any more successful, unfortunately.
For Civil War to be a vehicle for bipartisan dialogue on political violence, Democratic leaders need to show themselves capable of engaging in some good faith reckoning of their own. This is also part of the film’s power: Garland wisely does not foreclose the idea that many of his liberal critics seem disinclined to entertain, that democracy could be threatened from the left as well.
What shape that threat could take, and what we can do about it, is a question I’ll explore later in a column. But suffice it to say: In leaving important questions [about democracy and peace] open to viewers, Garland got it right.