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Character
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9 min read

Jimmy Carter: five takeaways from a life well-lived

Lessons for budding politicians and the rest of us.

Roger is a Baptist minister, author and Senior Research Fellow at Spurgeon’s College in London. 

Jimmy Cater stands on a convention stage looking out over the crowd.
Accepting the presidential nomination, 1980.
Carter Center.

The year was 2014. Jimmy Carter was writing his concluding remarks for a new book of reflections to mark his 90th birthday. He and Rosalynn had already been married over 68 years. He wrote: 

“The life we have now is the best of all. … We are blessed with good health and look to the future with eagerness and confidence, but are prepared for inevitable adversity when it comes.”

Amazing. 

Of course, I am partial when it comes to Jimmy Carter. He was one of a small handful of people who I’ve found to be genuinely inspirational. Here was a man who seemed to epitomise decency, hard work, public service and humility. 

Yet his failure to be elected for a second presidential term led to him leaving the White House to calls of derision and a common assessment that he was, ‘the worst president ever!’ By contrast, his subsequent work as a peacemaker, housebuilder and humanitarian was exemplary.  

Since his death on December 29 a great deal has been written. From factual obituaries to celebratory eulogies the column inches have been vast. The tributes have been fulsome. 

“He was a committed public servant, and devoted his life to promoting peace and human rights. His dedication and humility served as an inspiration to many, and I remember with great fondness his visit to the United Kingdom in 1977.” 

King Charles 

 

 “… he taught all of us what it means to live a life of grace, dignity, justice, and service.” 

Barak Obama. 

 

“… he truly loved and respected our Country, and all it stands for. He worked hard to make America a better place, and for that I give him my highest respect.” 

Donald Trump 

In more recent years his time in office has been subject to a re-evaluation. His presidency in no longer seen as the debacle of a ‘hapless and weak’ leader that it was caricatured as for so long. Not given to short-termism and often ahead of his time, as Stuart Eizenstat wrote in 2018, ‘[he] delivered results, many of which were realized only after he left office.’ 

So, what are the lessons that Jimmy Carter’s life can offer budding politicians and, indeed, the rest of us too? What is there to be learnt from this life well-lived in which Playboy Magazine, the Guinea Worm and a ‘killer rabbit’ all feature? 

Here are five takeaways from Carter’s life and experience. 

# 1. You can never control what happens

There is an apocryphal story in which a journalist asks Prime Minister Harold Macmillan what the most difficult thing was about running the country. Macmillan’s insightful, if fictional, response was genius, ‘Events, dear boy, events!’ 

In many ways Carter’s election to the White House was clearly a reaction against the events that had engulfed the previous administration. He was very definitely not ‘Tricky Dicky’ Richard Nixon. Yet it was to be events that undermined his presidency. 

From double-digit inflation of over twenty per cent to the oil crisis and the soaring price of fuel following the Iranian revolution, the economy was not in good shape. His policy was ridiculed as ‘stag-flation’ (low growth, high inflation) and the experience of ‘gasoline lines’ alienated many who had supported him. 

The nation’s anxieties about energy were only further heightened by the Three Mile Island nuclear accident in 1979. 

In many ways Carter was ahead of his time on environmental issues. He had solar panels installed on the White House roof. His successor, Ronald Reagan, had them removed. 

Then, when an Iranian mob seized the US embassy in Tehran and 52 Americans were held hostage for 444 days, the clamour was for something to be done. The attempted rescue mission was an unmitigated disaster. Two aircraft collided on the ground in the Iranian desert and eight service personnel were killed.  

It all added to the narrative that Carter was not up to the job.  

He was president at a particularly difficult moment of history and was himself a hostage to events. Sometimes you can do your very best, make the best calls available to you and still lose.  

Part of the reassessment of his time in power is that his economic strategy did work, it was just that Reagan benefited from it.  

It is also believed that there were politics involved in the timing of the release of the hostages from Iran. Carter had completed the negotiations, but their release on January 20, 1981, minutes after Reagan’s inauguration was certainly no coincidence. 

#2. Honesty is the best policy

During his presidential campaign in 1976, Carter famously pledged: 

“If I ever lie to you, if I ever make a misleading statement, don’t vote for me. I would not deserve to be your president.” 

There is no doubt that Carter’s reputation for speaking the truth underpinned many of his administration’s successes.  

The Camp David accords brought an enduring peace between Israel and Egypt. His role as a trusted, truth-telling mediator for their leaders was pivotal for the process. It also anticipated much of his post-presidential work that ultimately led to his being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 2002. The Nobel citation lauded him for: 

“… his decades of untiring effort to find peaceful solutions to international conflicts, to advance democracy and human rights, and to promote economic and social development.” 

Carter, however, also learned that truth-telling was also a double-edged sword. In his first presidential campaign he did an extended interview with Playboy magazine. The interviewer raised the concern that some voters were uneasy about his religious beliefs and feared he would be an unbending moralist. Carter attempted to say that he was no better than anyone else. He confessed: 

“I’ve looked on a lot of women with lust in my heart. I’ve committed adultery in my heart many times. This is something God recognizes I will do – and I have done it – and God forgives me for it.” 

On the TV Saturday Night Live mocked him; secular pundits painted him as a ‘redneck Baptist with a hotline to God’, while Conservative Christians questioned whether he had the moral character to lead the country having granted an interview to such a salacious publication. 

Then, while in office in 1979, concerned about the mood of the country, he held intense discussions with a cross-section of guests at Camp David to help address the situation. It resulted in a speech where he talked about the “crisis of the American spirit”. He suggested, “we are at a turning point in our history” and warned against choosing 

“… the path that leads to fragmentation and self-interest. Down that road lies a mistaken idea of freedom, the right to grasp for ourselves some advantage over others. That path would be one of constant conflict between narrow interests ending in chaos and immobility. It is a certain route to failure.” 

Initially well received, media coverage quickly turned it against Carter. They maintained he was blaming the American people for the failings of his own administration. They labelled it ‘the malaise speech’’. Now political pundits see its forewarning of political paralysis and fragmentation as ‘prescient’. 

Over the decades Carter’s commitment to tell the truth has borne fruit. Truthful consistency over the years established a secure foundation for trust. Such trust has then provided the opportunity to work for good outcomes in difficult, dangerous and demanding situations.  

#3. ‘All people are equal’

Carter grew up in relative poverty with no running water or electricity in Archery, Georgia. His mother was the community midwife, and his father farmed. Of the 200 residents only two families were white. The boys he played with and worked with were all African American.  

In his 1971 inaugural address as Governor of Georgia, he made his stance and agenda abundantly clear: 

“I say to you quite frankly that the time for racial discrimination is over.” 

This was no mere sloganeering or political positioning. As governor he appointed more minorities and women to state government positions than all of his predecessors combined. This was a habit he continued as president appointing a then-record number to federal posts.  

Civil rights activist, Andrew Young, said of Carter: 

“All the liberals I had worked with got nervous in a room full of Black people, and Jimmy Carter didn’t” 

#4. Reputation is about character, legacy is the result of hard work

It is a wonder that any politician aspires to high office. The attention of the media is relentless and their scrutiny forensic: mistakes are highlighted, misjudgements castigated and personal flaws relentlessly scorned. 

Carter never courted the media, and they did him no favours. When he left the White House after his landslide defeat to Reagan, his standing and reputation were shot. But he did not take up lucrative opportunities in industry or the world of celebrity. Rather, through the Carter Center he established in Atlanta, he set about his peace-making and humanitarian work under the banner of ‘Waging Peace. Fighting Disease. Building Hope’. 

The work accomplished is impressive from the monitoring of 125 elections in 40 countries to their leadership of a coalition of agencies committed to the eradication of the Guinea Worm parasite. With the latter, the 3.5 million cases reported each year in the 1980s, by 2023 had fallen to a mere 14. As James Fallows observed in The Atlantic

“… as unglamourous as it sounds, [it] represents an increase in human well-being greater than most leaders have achieved.” 

For over 40 years since leaving the White House, Carter put in the hard yards. His consistency of character, integrity and respect for others have ensured his reputation as well as his legacy. As Rolling Stone headlined in their obituary,  

“the 39th president will be remembered for his extraordinary decency and philanthropic legacy.” 

#5. A moral centre

Jimmy Carter was clear about how his faith defined, motivated and sustained him.  

Speaking to a convention of Methodists he shared: 

“I am a peanut farmer and a Christian. I am a father, and I am a Christian. I am a businessman and a Christian. I am a politician and a Christian. The single most important factor in my own life is Jesus Christ.” 

It was his grasp of the message of Jesus that inspired and animated his life of service. It was his faith relationship with Jesus that nourished and energised him.  

On another occasion he was quite clear: 

“My faith demands — this is not optional — my faith demands that I do whatever I can, wherever I am, whenever I can, for as long as I can, with whatever I have to try to make a difference.” 

That just leaves the tale of the ‘killer rabbit’.  

While out fishing in 1979 a swamp rabbit began swimming toward his boat. Taking an oar, Carter chased the creature off with a few flicks of water. It was the sort of stupidly trivial incident that no one involved would ever normally remember – until the press got hold of it. The Washington Post ran the headline “President Attacked by Rabbit” along with a cartoon entitled “PAWS”, parodying the hit movie “JAWS”. 

The story was a PR nightmare and was milked by a hostile press for a week. It reinforced their narrative of Carter as a helpless laughingstock, a bumbler flailing around and not up to the task.  

The story was a cheap shot. But Carter appeared not to have been left bitter about it. When his biographer Jonathan Alter raised the story for discussion, “He smiled ruefully.”  

Jimmy Carter (1924-2024). As his friend Bob Dylan said: 

“He was a kindred spirit to me of a rare kind. The kind of man you don’t meet every day, and that you’re lucky to meet if you ever do.” 

 

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Article
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Community
Nationalism
5 min read

I protested against the Unite The Kingdom protest

The need to see one another

Thomas is a writer exploring the intersection of faith, politics, and social justice.

CCTV footage show two rival protests divided by a line of riot police.
CCTV image of the rival protests on Whitehall.
Met Police.

I don’t know why I was so concerned about the horses. I kept noticing them swaying through the sea of shivering bodies. I was so drawn to them that I tried to take a photo, a rare occurrence for me, but I was too far away. The horses riders, dressed in full riot gear, were being pelted with beer bottles. Maybe the horses were getting hit too, but it felt like they were recoiling on behalf of their riders. 

In front of the horses, engulfing Trafalgar Square, were tens of thousands of “Unite the Kingdom” protestors. From what I could see, they were predominantly white men. Many of them were dancing and waving flags, but a sizeable contingent was furious, drunk, and insisted on attacking any unfortunate police officer in their way. 

Behind the horses, lining the streets of Whitehall, were five thousand counter-protestors, including me. Unlike our opposite numbers in Trafalgar Square, we were trapped, surrounded on every side by St George’s flags, Union Jacks, and, oddly, some Georgian flags too. Maybe the shop had sold out. To my right, I could see the counter-protestors defiantly dancing. To me left, I could see a group chanting “Nazi scum, off our streets” whilst swearing towards the St George’s flags. 

There in the middle, I found myself feeling a curious mixture of discomfort, sadness, and anger. Uncomfortable because I’d been trapped for four hours, stuck on a continuous cycle of rinse and drain. Sad, because I knew that much of the “Unite the Kingdom” violence was built on misinformation and the scapegoating of refugees, a group I know well, and because this fog of violence blew over the counter-protestors as they hurled insults towards the St George’s flags. And angry, because figures like Elon Musk were using their extraordinary wealth and influence to spread fear and lies: “Whether you choose violence or not, violence is coming to you. You either fight back or you die. You either fight back or you die. And that’s the truth. It’s only a matter of time till that happens to towns and villages. It will spread. And no one will have any peace.” Over the years, I have spent many hundreds, if not thousands, of hours with refugees and asylum seekers, both in my home and at my church. I had experienced no violence. In that moment, I was surrounded by “leftists”, socialists, and trade unionists, and the only violence I was experiencing was from the glint of beer bottles raining down on the police two hundred meters away. 

I was grateful for the interruption of an elderly lady asking if she could get past. I’d been asked a number of questions throughout the day, primarily because I was one of a group of four Christians holding signs like “Jesus was a refugee”, “love thy neighbour”, and “I was a stranger and you welcomed me”. At the start of the protest, an older lady and a young man joined our circle. The young man asked “I’m glad to see there are some Christians here. What do you think of Christian nationalism? Your religion doesn’t feel much like Jesus?” He was a brave Saudi Arabian refugee with a bright smile, earnestly questioning the fractures in my community of faith. Taken aback by the poignancy of the question, I fumbled a response before being rescued by one of my friends. 

Protest signs written on cardboard.
Tommy's protest signs before the rain.

 

After a while, the older lady started speaking. “Sorry for interrupting. I used to be a Roman Catholic, but I’ve lost my faith. On days like this though, I always want to pray. I don’t feel much hope for the church. A while ago, I went into a catholic church. I asked if the church could do anything about the divisions in our community and the anger at refugees. The priest shrugged and said no. I’m glad you’re here.” Her short, staccato sentences mirrored the tension of the day. I told her about how our church serves refugees, how I struggle with the anger of days like today, and how some of us have forgotten that the bible tells us to welcome the stranger dozens of times. As they walked away, I felt touched by the honesty both the young and old had gifted to four strangers, and I was glad to be carrying our smalls signs of hope. 

The megaphone brought the present back into view with another question. “Could everyone please get ready to leave up the left of Trafalgar Square?” it said. The police had cleared a path for us to leave, the sea of flags artificially parted by riot gear. We were escorted to Green Park tube station, at which point we turned off towards Oxford Street. My wife remarked at how quickly normality returned. I was devastated by the day, but felt too tired to weep. I wasn’t quite the same Tommy that I’d been that morning. The man who shares my name, and the chaos he wrought on my city, had turned a dial in me a little further than it had been turned before. 

I knew that I would have more days like this. In the midst of my discomfort, sadness, hope, and fear, I knew that I was supposed to be there, holding my soggy “Jesus was a refugee” sign, shivering in my damp clothes, and praying under my breath. I knew that I needed to gather other reluctant protestors alongside me, holding their own soggy signs and praying their own prayers. 

And I also knew that there was a better way to carry this fragile message of unity in our increasingly fragile land and increasingly fragile time. As a half-British, half-South African man, I’ve had the privilege of growing up with the stories of the anti-apartheid movement, stories which steward the hard-earned truth that defiant, tenacious, persistent love is the only antidote to hatred, misinformation and fear. As Desmond Tutu once said, “when we can accept both our humanity and the perpetrator’s we can write a new story”. Saturday left me feeling that we desperately need a new story, and that requires us to look beyond the swaying horses and see one another clearly. 

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