Creed or Chaos: Jordan Peterson and (orthodox) Christianity

Any day now I fully expect to hear news that Jordan Peterson has converted to Christianity. When that day finally arrives (if indeed it does), there will be much celebration among those such as myself who have followed his rise with fascination and excitement. One of the most exciting aspects for me is what Peterson’s conversion might portend for his many followers. Will they too take the leap and convert to Christianity? Having known several people (including a number of former atheists) who have already made their way into the Church as a result of his influence, it doesn’t seem improbable. On the other hand, it does raise an interesting question. Namely, what exactly is the relationship between Peterson’s philosophy, such as it is, and (orthodox) Christianity? Put another way, why are so many Christians interested in what Peterson has to say, and why are more and more of Peterson’s followers interested in or, at the very least, reconsidering their views on Christianity? In my view, the answer to that question has continued to change, as Peterson himself has changed. 

Originally, the two were mostly an alliance against wokeness. Peterson became a hero to many Christians almost overnight for his stand against the trans mob. At this point in time, I was myself a bit reticent about Peterson, because, as the recent cancellation of Richard Dawkins has shown, opposition to transgenderism sometimes creates strange bedfellows. However, as time went on, it became clear to me that Peterson was moving well beyond the boundaries of classical liberalism, despite the fact he continues to be closely associated with it. It is this movement away from and against liberalism which, I think, explains the mutual fascination between Christians and the Peterson crowd. Though Peterson often singles out “postmodernism” as his intended target, it is important to distinguish between that postmodernism which is the heir and logical conclusion of liberal modernity, the intensification of it which eventually turns against itself—the kind Peterson despises—and the version of postmodernity which is opposed to its predecessor’s idolization of individual autonomy—the kind he admires. 

As a brief aside, I would like to say why I think so much of the analysis of Peterson, both positive and negative, tends to associate him with classical liberalism. What this analysis actually reveals is the ideological captivity of the analysts, whose own worldview has been so shaped by liberalism that they cannot think of any opposition which doesn’t also implicitly agree with them. For such people, there simply are no real alternatives to their particular principles (which is ironic, because they are often the same people who claim to celebrate diversity). Indeed, it is the perceived self-evidence of these principles—“We hold these truths to be self-evident”—which feeds into the progressive myth of the overcoming of the past. From this perspective, those who came before could not but have agreed with the present about the fundamentals, only they must have been hypocrites, or cowards, or bigots, or just too stupid or powerless to realize them consistently and completely. For the current woke vanguard, those fellow liberals who oppose them (the old guard, the so-called classical liberals) represent a great betrayal of liberalism, the horror of retrogression. Amidst this liberal struggle, Peterson stands as a kind of Jeffersonian figure. On the one hand, his classical liberal admirers celebrate him as a great intellectual, a principled defender of free speech, virtue, and self-reliance. On the other hand, his woke detractors revile him as a sophistical hypocrite, espousing ideas of freedom while ostensibly standing athwart the realization of freedom by defending and participating in systems of institutional oppression which they claim continue to subjugate POC and other marginalized communities (namely the LGBTQ+ community). 

My argument and, indeed, my hope is that all of this gets Peterson completely wrong, and that what he is actually about is not classical liberalism but classical Christianity. My evidence for this is by no means conclusive, but I do think the preponderance of it points in that direction. First, there is the fact that unlike many of his classical liberal sycophants, Peterson has a clear and evidently sincere interest in religion. One needs only peruse his catalogue for a moment to see the intensity of his interest in matters such as the Bible, God, and most especially Christ. Though I am by no means an expert on his work, a casual observer might quite naturally conclude that Christianity is even his primary interest. Of course, one does not have to agree with much of what he says about these things. I, for one, do not find much substance in a lot of what he says about them. But I do not doubt for a moment that they are important to him. He is serious about them. And this seriousness about Christianity may be where his apparent opposition to liberalism comes from. Though we often hear about the Judeo-Christian origins of liberal regimes like the United States, the relationship between liberalism and Christianity is in many ways antithetical. While concepts like personhood and freedom are certainly to be found in both, closer inspection reveals that they are actually quite opposed as to how to define them. Christians, for instance, do not equate personhood with being an individual. The Christian understanding of personhood is fundamentally relational. Similarly, when it comes to freedom, the Christian does not regard true freedom as unobstructed choice (as the liberal does), but as the ability of a thing to flourish as the kind of thing it is. 

These two points seem to have worked their way, maybe only implicitly, into some of Jordan Peterson’s thoughts on politics. Take, for instance, his defense of free speech. Peterson does not ground his defense in terms of some inalienable natural right of the individual, nor does he refer to some foundational political document (the two most common approaches among conservative liberals). In fact, he very intentionally avoids this approach. In a very illiberal move, he expresses his hesitation to even call free speech a right, instead preferring to describe it as a “mechanism” by which society can identify and attempt to resolve its problems. By eschewing the language of individual rights and putting the emphasis on the common good, Peterson makes it clear that his opposition to compelled speech and transgenderism is not based on rights at all, but on the recognition that language is by its very nature public, ordered to the common good, and therefore not the property of individuals to manipulate or control. Beyond this more practical concern, he has also spoken of freedom of speech in a more lofty mode, as the means by which we come to discover truth, a value he has repeatedly said stands above all others. 

Another area where Christianity seems to be influencing Peterson’s thought is his “rules for life.” Here, again, the temptation to read the rules as an endorsement of liberal values is strong. In her critical review of his book 12 Rules for Life, Melanie Reed writes, “If you peel back the verbiage, the cerebral preening, you are left with a hardline self-help manual of self-reliance, good behaviour, self-betterment and individualism that probably reflects [Peterson's] childhood in rural Canada in the 1960s." While this critique appears to have some merit, a better, more consistent explanation is that he is actually attacking the liberal, autonomous individual. By acknowledging that there are principles of right action beyond the individual’s self-determination, Peterson is striking at the very (empty) heart of the liberal project: its vague offer of the pursuit of happiness. By insisting that happiness and fulfillment consist in conformity to something beyond the self, Peterson is dashing the idol of modernity, not embracing it. Though he does sometimes speak of the importance of the individual, he clearly does not mean what, for instance, John Locke or Ayn Rand means by individual. This is clear from his use of the term in contrast to the vulgar collectivism of Bolshevism, Critical Race Theory, and the like. A better term would be “particular.” Christianity, of course, does value each particular human person, as is evident from the Gospel of John. Caiaphas, the high priest at the time of Christ’s crucifixion, declares, “It is better that one man should die for the people, than that the whole nation perish.” Clearly, we are not meant to agree with the collectivist reasoning of those orchestrating Christ’s death. We are supposed to reject it. But rejecting this kind of thinking does not make us “individualists.” In fact, the Christian understanding of personhood is an alternative to that kind of false dichotomy. 

In conclusion, while I am not sure what the future holds for Jordan Peterson or those who follow him, I am confident that Christians have an ally in them against the tyranny of liberalism. Let us pray this rapprochement continues! And may their kind increase!