President Joe Biden announced on Sunday his decision to provide his troubled son, Hunter Biden, with a full and unconditional pardon—after he and his administration spent years telling Americans this would not happen out of respect for the rule of law.
Democratic operatives have often repeated this pledge on cable news as proof that Biden (and, by affiliation, they themselves) were far more principled and trustworthy than their political adversaries. Now the pledge is broken.
At best, Biden has seriously compromised his integrity by changing his mind on the pardon. At worst (more likely, in my mind), he lied for political expedience. Either way, he’s giving the incoming Trump administration cover for its own misconduct and the American people another reason to question the integrity of our country’s institutions.
There is historical precedent for this move. Biden is far from the first US president to make such a self-interested and conflicted pardon. But precedent helps us understand if something is legal; it doesn’t necessarily tell us if it’s morally right. A boatload of precedent can’t perfume this pig, nor is it justified by President-elect Donald Trump’s past (and likely future) behavior.
Yes, Trump’s indiscretions make the righteous indignation of some of his supporters on this issue laughable. Nonetheless, what Biden is doing is wrong. It sets a separate criminal justice standard for elites, and it violates the public trust. Biden insisted that “no one is above the law.” He has not honored that principle.
As a father, I sympathize with Biden’s instinct to rescue his son from this life-altering situation. It has to be heartbreaking to see your child go through what Hunter has experienced, both through his own fault and otherwise. The family has my earnest prayers. I understand why Biden did it, but that doesn’t make it right.
And what’s more troubling than Biden’s revelation is how some Christians, generally on the left side of the political spectrum, have rationalized the move as either a nonstory or almost virtuous.
As soon as the Democratic Party’s talking-points factory began spitting out justifications for what Biden did, I saw many Democratic Christians immediately begin repeating them—misusing and overusing terms like false equivalence and bothsideism in vain attempts to avoid all critique. This is unsurprising, but it’s a symptom of a bigger problem. These Christians have begun to believe that Trump’s MAGA movement has brought the country to such a low and desperate state that we can suspend some democratic principles and public grace—that anything goes so long as we’re fighting against the bad guy.
But that’s not how the Christian ethic works. Our bad actions aren’t justified by the wrongdoing of our opponents.
We see this in 1 Samuel 28, on the eve of King Saul’s final battle. The prophet Samuel has died, and Saul seems to have hit his lowest point. He’s apparently without a moral compass. He’s called on God and received no answer. In his desperation—though he personally had forbidden divination, sorcery, and spiritists in Israel—he seeks out the witch of Endor for help.
This is an unmistakable sign of his delirium and disorientation. Saul actually wants to hear good news via works of witchcraft and is seeking to profit from a morally bankrupt endeavor.
Scripture clearly indicates that Saul would go on to die in an unrighteous state. But let us not forget who Saul was going to war against: the Philistines. They were far from a righteous group of people. According to the Bible, their offenses against God were many—they were idol worshipers, soothsayers, and militarists (1 Sam. 5:1–5, 13:19–20; Isa. 2:6; Judges 14:3).
Saul was fighting against the bad guys. But fighting an unrighteous enemy didn’t make Saul righteous. It didn’t justify his invoking the dark arts.
People of all political persuasions can erroneously start thinking that if we can just prove our opposition is bad, then our efforts are automatically good. That’s wrong. The truth is, we can become unrighteous while fighting the unrighteous. Trump may be many of the things his detractors claim he is, but that doesn’t justify a suspension of Christian and democratic principles.
Every time someone points out a flaw or behavioral error on our side of the aisle, our instinct is to point out something worse on the other side, as if to absolve ourselves. But right and wrong aren’t graded on a curve. This kind of morality by comparison is a bottomless pit that will eventually engulf every standard we have in the public square. Biden’s actions must be deemed right or wrong on their own merits. Trump’s behavior should not and cannot be allowed to set the bar.
Democrats’ behavior here reveals the problem with seeing our political landscape as simply good versus evil. Our own brokenness should keep us from ever assuming our efforts are good without faithful introspection. And if we deceive ourselves into thinking we’re good, we’ll never be compelled to hold our side accountable. Pushing back against what might become an inhumane immigration deportation program is good. Justifying lying, cheating, or stealing to avoid giving MAGA any perceived credibility or advantage is not.
A Subtler Political Idolatry
I’ve been told to get used to this political dynamic—that the system is so broken that we must break the rules ourselves or face unwanted consequences. But that argument isn’t far from the one used to justify Trump’s initial ascendance. It’s not naive to think uprightness can overcome corruption. It’s Christian (John 1:5).
In my last article, I challenged pro-Trump evangelicals, in their moment of triumph, to check President-elect Trump’s excesses. Now, in the agony of defeat, Democratic evangelicals need to think about what evils they might justify in their resistance to Trump. This is a question worthy of great consideration because the sins of one’s political opposition never justify wrongdoing.
Justin Giboney is an ordained minister, an attorney, and the president of the AND Campaign, a Christian civic organization. He’s the coauthor of Compassion (&) Conviction: The AND Campaign’s Guide to Faithful Civic Engagement.
