The new golden calves: Progressives bow to political idols

By Michael A. Hancock | Commentary, Undercurrent Substack

How the Left Turns Leaders Into Gods and Politics Into Religion

Idolatry is as old as humanity itself. Ancient Israel bowed before golden calves. Rome worshiped its emperors. Today, American progressives practice their own brand of idolatry—transforming politicians, activists, movements, and bureaucracies into secular saints. These idols are exalted as saviors of society, placed beyond criticism, and treated as the ultimate sources of justice and truth. The only thing they never deliver is actual redemption.

The Priesthood of Experts

The story begins with intellectuals. W.E.B. Du Bois envisioned the “Talented Tenth,” a vanguard of Black elites who would uplift the race through education and cultural refinement. His idea replaced personal responsibility and faith in God with trust in a small, enlightened class.

John Dewey, the architect of progressive education, offered his own priesthood. Schools, he argued, should no longer transmit tradition but instead engineer a new democratic order. Dewey’s classroom was not just for reading and arithmetic; it was a secular temple where children would be molded into citizens of the progressive future.

Then came Woodrow Wilson, the academic who became president. Wilson embodied the fusion of scholarship and power. He preached salvation through bureaucracy and internationalism, promising that the administrative state at home and the League of Nations abroad would redeem humanity from its flaws. For his admirers, Wilson was less a politician than a prophet. Yet his “new freedom” expanded government control, and his international covenant collapsed before it began. His legacy is not redemption but the modern leviathan of bureaucracy.

Revolutionary Icons

Progressives soon turned to charismatic figures. Marcus Garvey cast himself as a modern Moses, promising a back-to-Africa exodus that would restore dignity and power to Black Americans. His movement inspired devotion that bordered on worship. But when Garvey’s schemes collapsed in scandal, his followers were left disillusioned, and the problems of poverty and division remained.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt became the white counterpart to Garvey’s messianic pose. In the depths of the Depression, Roosevelt was hailed as the savior who lifted the nation from despair. Fireside chats resembled sermons. The New Deal became a covenant, binding the people not to God or community but to the state itself. FDR’s idolhood persists: critics of his programs are not merely disagreed with but treated as heretics against the New Deal religion.

John F. Kennedy took idolization to another level. His short presidency was retrofitted into “Camelot,” a myth of noble sacrifice and shining promise. His assassination canonized him as a martyr of American liberalism, forever remembered for potential rather than performance.

The Black Panther Party provided the militant version of this same pattern. Berets, leather jackets, and raised fists became icons of resistance. For many, the Panthers represented courage, pride, and defiance. But their ideology glorified violence and drew heavily from Marxist revolution, offering salvation through militancy rather than virtue. They became revolutionary saints—idolized symbols, but poor deliverers.

Civil Rights Sainthood

No figure better illustrates the progressive use of idolatry than Martin Luther King Jr. In public memory, King has been elevated from man to myth. His “I Have a Dream” speech is treated as sacred text, recited in schools and invoked in political speeches as if it were scripture itself. Statues and street names sanctify his image, turning him into a kind of civic saint.

But this sainthood is highly selective. King’s role as a Baptist preacher is downplayed, and his non-treatment of repentance, salvation, and sanctification in Christ is largely ignored. What remains is a sanitized icon, carefully framed to serve a political purpose. Progressives invoke his name to sanctify modern agendas — from affirmative action to diversity mandates — regardless of whether those policies bear any resemblance to King’s own convictions.

This canonization serves a clear function: it places King beyond critique. To question how his legacy is used today is to risk cultural heresy. In this way, King functions less as a preacher of the gospel and more as a secular saint in America’s civil religion. His image has become a tool, not for leading people to Christ, but for legitimizing policies that bind communities more tightly to the state.

Prophets of Grievance

Other idols rose by ensuring grievances never healed. Al Sharpton mastered the role of perpetual prophet, descending upon controversies with pulpit theatrics and fiery rhetoric. His leadership did not produce resolution but kept wounds open, because outrage is his currency. Jesse Jackson played a similar role, positioning himself as a national conscience while remaining a political broker.

On another front, Gloria Steinem and Betty Friedan emerged as feminist prophets. Their words were treated as revelation, their critiques as gospel. Questioning their assumptions was heresy in polite society. Yet, like other idols, their movement often substituted grievance for genuine renewal—elevating anger while sidelining family stability, faith, and virtue.

Political Messiahs

Some idols rose higher still, presented as redeemers of the nation. Barack Obama’s 2008 campaign was marketed as a revival service. His “Hope and Change” mantra was less about policy than about salvation. His election was celebrated not just as a political victory but as a redemptive event—the cleansing of America’s original sin. Crowds wept as if witnessing a spiritual deliverance. But the promised transformation never materialized. The communities most invested in his presidency saw continued decline. Obama’s image remained untouchable, but the deliverance was a mirage.

Bernie Sanders inspired a younger generation with similar fervor. His rallies had the atmosphere of tent revivals, with crowds chanting as disciples awaiting the socialist kingdom. Sanders became the apostle of grievance against capitalism, revered for his authenticity. Yet like every idol before him, the promises—free healthcare, free college, economic equality—remained out of reach, always deferred to the next election cycle.

Movements as Religions

When personalities proved insufficient, movements themselves were transformed into religions.

Black Lives Matter perfected this formula. Its marches resembled worship services, complete with chants as liturgy and victims elevated as martyrs. Murals of George Floyd became shrines. Founders openly invoked Marxist ideology and African spiritualism, blending politics with ritual. To question the movement was treated as apostasy. Yet billions of dollars raised produced little measurable change in the neighborhoods it claimed to serve.

The climate crusade followed the same template. It speaks in apocalyptic tones, warning of judgment day if humanity does not repent. Its high priests are scientists who must never be doubted. Its rituals are recycling, solar panels, and electric cars. Salvation is promised through compliance. Like every idol, the movement thrives on fear, not freedom.

The Bureaucratic Catechism

Idolatry has now been institutionalized. Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion operates as doctrine in universities, corporations, and government agencies. Mandatory trainings function as catechism. Pronoun declarations are confessions of faith. Faculty job applicants are often required to produce DEI statements as proof of ideological loyalty—modern equivalents of testifying before the inquisition.

Its cousin, ESG, enforces the creed in finance, rewarding compliant corporations while punishing dissenters. Together, DEI and ESG replace repentance with compliance, promising belonging while delivering conformity. They are the bureaucratic idols of our time—soulless yet demanding endless devotion.

The Pattern and Its Cost

The names differ—Du Bois and Dewey, Wilson and Roosevelt, Garvey and the Panthers, King and Kennedy, Sharpton and Steinem, Obama and Sanders, BLM and DEI. But the design is the same: elevate an idol, sanctify it beyond critique, extract devotion, secure power.

What never comes is deliverance. Instead, people are left spiritually blind and politically captive. Truth is eclipsed by personality. Politics masquerades as religion. Communities remain dependent and divided. Idols do not heal; they only consume loyalty.

Who Is Left to Save?

If Wilson is the priest, FDR and Obama messiahs, JFK the martyr, King the saint, and Sharpton the prophet — then who is left to be Savior?

If the answer is not Christ, our Lord and Savior, then progressivism is simply idolatry in political form. And idols—whether carved in stone, plastered on posters, or embedded in corporate trainings—always devour devotion but yield no fruit.

Hancock also publishes on Substack. You can check out more of his work here.

Michael A. Hancock is a retired high-tech executive, visionary, musician, and composer, exploring diverse interests—from religion and arts to politics and philosophy—offering thoughtful insights on the intersections of culture, innovation, and society.

Editor’s note: Opinions expressed in commentary pieces are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the management of the Rocky Mountain Voice, but even so we support the constitutional right of the author to express those opinions.