WHY RUN?
The Heart of the Fight
Running for office—even in races you’re unlikely to win—is a vital act of democratic citizenship. Contested elections and open challenges are not mere formalities; they activate the public realm. As political theorists note, democracy depends on plurality and dissent. Hannah Arendt argues that the right to dissent itself “is at the core of American democracy,” because “[d]issent implies consent, and is the hallmark of free government” . In other words, offering voters a choice—even against the odds—reinforces the legitimacy of government by showing consent is freely given, not coerced. John Dewey similarly emphasized that politics is not just about winning but about relationality: true “public love” holds “in tension” the goal of victory “with recognition of the intrinsic dignity and worth of even one’s enemies” . Electing opponents with whom one can still treat respectfully keeps civic life vibrant, turning campaigns into spaces where communities debate and learn. When citizens run against entrenched powers, they model Deweyan “free spaces” of debate and inquiry , reminding everyone that democracy is a way of life, not a foregone conclusion.
Even a simple act like waiting in line to vote can become a public ritual affirming democracy. As Arendt observed, the communal experience of queuing with neighbors to cast ballots is “a deeply symbolic affirmation of…one’s responsibility as a citizen” .
Elections themselves are civic rituals. As Hannah Arendt noted, standing in line to vote and talking with neighbors—what she called the public act of voting—is not merely a bureaucratic duty but “a deeply symbolic affirmation” of citizenship . In Arkansas, where many races attract little attention, each election day can still become a communal moment. Voting lines and local caucuses, school board forums and party primaries, all give ordinary people a chance to re-affirm democratic belonging. Even if the immediate outcome is foregone, participating sends a message: we care. Civic theorists warn that when people disengage entirely, the “main educational experience of politics” is lost . By contrast, contested races – even low-turnout local contests – keep those civic muscles working. They teach citizens that political decisions are communal matters, not private musings.
Political Theory: Contestation, Dissent, and Civic Life
Theorists across eras emphasize that democracy thrives on contestation. Arendt warns that in a free society, the impulse to punish dissent is the mentality of the police, not politics . Contesting elections embodies that spirit of dissent: a challenger who speaks truth to local or statewide power is practicing the very freedom democracy promises. Dewey would frame this positively: running for office, regardless of likely victory, is “citizen politics” – the exercise of our democratic capacities in open forums of debate . It enacts the “relational politics” he envisioned, where leaders and challengers listen to one another and to the public, not just chase victory. As one Dewey scholar puts it, democracy requires “public deliberative politics” over efficiency, a process that “develops agency” and treats every person as valuable . The very act of running invites neighbors into those free spaces of discussion.
Modern thinkers underscore similar themes. Yale scholar bell hooks writes that authentic democracy requires “engaged and active participation” by citizens; withdrawing or saying “no choice” leaves real power only with the elites. Philosopher Cornel West, speaking of democracy as a “category of hope,” echoes this: he urges people to stand up in local contests and protests because even symbolic struggles can spark wider change. (For example, West has noted that America’s civil rights movement involved thousands running local campaigns and challenging status quos, long before any national breakthrough). While these voices come from diverse perspectives, they converge in viewing election contests as important acts of solidarity and conscience.
At bottom, contested elections are civic rituals of dissent. They affirm that citizens are not merely subjects of power but active participants. Even when an incumbent seems invincible, the act of campaigning wakes up neighbors to issues they might otherwise overlook. It creates a public space – a bulletin board, a town meeting, a Facebook debate – where communities rehearse democracy.
Faith, Prophetic Witness, and Civic Engagement
In Arkansas, faith communities play a parallel role in preaching active citizenship. Many local churches stress that calling and campaigning for justice is a spiritual duty. The African Methodist Episcopal (AME) Church, for instance, has a long history of “liberationist” ministry in Arkansas, seeing itself as an engine of social change . The AME’s theology emphasizes that “God is on the side of the oppressed” and that the church must speak up for those denied power. One AME commentator writes that the church’s prophetic duty is to “speak for the voiceless” and advocate for the marginalized, a task born of its founding witness against slavery and discrimination . In practice, many black AME congregations in Arkansas have encouraged members to run for office or support voter drives, echoing the belief that faith and politics intersect.
Likewise, some Baptist pastors in Arkansas stress the church’s public role. Judge-turned-pastor Wendell Griffen of Little Rock argues that “Power should be used to pursue justice, and the church should be the agency that constantly speaks truth to power about working for justice for all” . For Griffen, who famously protested the death penalty, being a Christian means engaging the state on ethical terms, not withdrawing from politics. He and others criticize purely “Constantinian” churches that align uncritically with political powers; instead they invoke a “prophetic consciousness” (a term borrowed from theologian Walter Brueggemann) that demands accountability from leaders . In short, many Arkansas churches view running for office – or even organizing others to run – as a form of righteous dissent, a way to live out the biblical call to seek justice.
Not all faith voices in Arkansas align this way, of course. Some evangelical or Church of Christ congregations focus more on personal salvation than politics. But even here there are stirrings: in 2020 a coalition of Arkansas Church of Christ ministers joined hundreds nationwide in calling for racial justice after the murder of George Floyd, framing it as a Christian duty to speak against oppression. At least one Little Rock Church of Christ was torched by a white supremacist arsonist that summer, a violent reminder of how churches can become targets when they stand up for change (the Lewis Street Church of Christ proclaimed that “Satan may have destroyed the house of God, but he will not destroy the people of God”). Such events steeled local faith leaders’ resolve rather than silencing them.
Across denominations, many Arkansas church networks now actively counsel members to “vote your faith.” Interfaith groups like the Arkansas Coalition for Peace and Justice underscore this: their mission is to build “peaceful and just relationships through education, dialogue, and action” . Whether through voter registration drives, candidate forums at churches, or Bible studies on civic responsibility, these groups see political engagement as a form of worship. In theological terms, this is the idea of a “prophetic witness” – that faith isn’t only practiced in sanctuary but on Main Street, City Council, and Capitol hallways. Running for office can thus be an act of faith: as Griffen puts it, “the church should be the agency that speaks truth to power.”