Augustine’s City of God remains one of the most influential works ever written on political order because it refuses two illusions that repeatedly haunt public life: the illusion that politics can save, and the illusion that politics does not matter. Written in the aftermath of Rome’s sack in 410, the work responds to a cultural crisis of meaning. Many Romans blamed Christianity for weakening the empire’s traditional gods and civic unity. Augustine answers by reframing the entire question. The fate of an earthly empire, however impressive, cannot be the measure of ultimate truth. Rome is not eternal, and no political order can bear the weight of ultimate hope.
Augustine’s central interpretive framework is the contrast between two “cities,” not as two geographic societies but as two communities defined by two loves. The city of God is characterized by the love of God unto the contempt of self, while the earthly city is characterized by the love of self unto the contempt of God. This is not a simplistic claim that Christians are morally flawless and non Christians are morally monstrous. Augustine is more psychologically and theologically serious than that. He is describing two ultimate orientations of the heart that shape institutions, cultures, and political orders. Political life, on this account, is not driven only by laws and economics, but by worship and desire. What a society loves will determine what it protects, what it permits, and what it punishes.
From this foundation comes Augustine’s doctrine of political realism. Because humanity is fallen, political order is necessary, but it is also perpetually compromised. The state is not evil in itself, but it is never purely righteous. Even when it pursues legitimate goods, it tends to mingle justice with pride and coercion with self interest. Augustine’s famous critique, that a kingdom without justice is little more than a great robbery, is not a rejection of government. It is an indictment of illegitimate power. He presses a question that every regime must answer: by what moral standard is your authority justified, and whom does it serve?
For Augustine, the state’s chief political good is a kind of peace. Yet peace is not merely the absence of conflict. It is ordered tranquility, a condition of relative stability that allows human life to proceed. Here Augustine is both appreciative and skeptical. He appreciates that even flawed states can provide a measure of peace that restrains violence and makes common life possible. He is skeptical because the earthly city often seeks peace as an end in itself, detached from the true good, and may pursue peace through injustice. Augustine therefore distinguishes between temporal peace, which is real and valuable, and ultimate peace, which belongs to the city of God and is fulfilled only in communion with God.
This distinction is one of Augustine’s enduring gifts to political thought. It explains why Christians can affirm and work for public order without treating it as ultimate. Christians can seek the good of their neighbors, honor legitimate authorities, and participate responsibly in civic life, while refusing to absolutize any nation, party, or regime. Augustine’s “pilgrim” theme captures this posture. The church lives as a resident alien, at home enough to serve, and detached enough to resist idolatry. Political participation becomes a form of neighbor love and stewardship, not a quest for salvation through state power.
Augustine also provides a powerful diagnosis of political conflict. The earthly city is marked by disordered love and the libido dominandi, a lust to dominate. This does not mean every exercise of authority is domination, but it does mean that power is never morally neutral. Without virtue and justice, power tends toward self preservation, expansion, and control. Augustine’s account is remarkably modern in its sensitivity to the way pride and fear shape public life. He helps readers see that many political projects are driven not only by policy goals but by the desire for supremacy, revenge, or identity.
Yet Augustine is not a quietist. He does not argue that the church should withdraw from public concerns. Instead, he argues that the church can cooperate with the earthly city in pursuing temporal goods, so long as it does not surrender its worship or moral identity. This cooperation is possible because God, in his providence, grants common goods even to societies that do not worship him rightly. Augustine thus provides a theological basis for civic partnership in a plural society: Christians can work alongside others for peace, justice, and social stability without pretending that all moral visions are the same.
At the same time, Augustine’s standards for justice are demanding. He insists that true justice ultimately requires right relation to God. This claim has often been debated because it seems to imply that no non Christian society can be truly just. Augustine’s point, however, is not merely to score theological points against pagans. It is to warn against treating any political order as the final embodiment of righteousness. Even when a society achieves relative justice, it remains incomplete and mixed. This humility about political achievements protects Christian leaders from utopianism. It also challenges secular triumphalism that treats modern states as self validating moral authorities.
In later Christian tradition, Augustine’s influence shaped both caution and activism. Medieval political theology often drew on Augustine to frame the relationship between ecclesial and civil authority, sometimes in ways that supported strong church involvement in public order, and sometimes in ways that generated conflict between popes and emperors. The Reformers read Augustine deeply, especially on sin, grace, and the limits of human righteousness, and these themes influenced Protestant views of government’s restraining role and the need for accountability. In modern political thought, Augustine has shaped Christian realism, a tradition that recognizes the necessity of power while remaining wary of its corruptions. His emphasis on disordered love and the persistence of sin in institutions provides a durable critique of ideologies that assume human perfectibility through policy alone.
Augustine’s work also bears on the tension between coercion and conscience. While he is famous for supporting coercive measures against certain heretical movements in his time, his broader theology still helps clarify limits. Political authority can restrain outward evil, but it cannot produce inward conversion. Even when Augustine permits coercion in specific contexts, his deeper framework warns against imagining that force can yield true faith. The state can secure public peace, but it cannot create the city of God.
Another enduring influence is Augustine’s moral analysis of war and peace. Although later “just war” theory developed through several thinkers, Augustine’s concern to restrain violence, limit motives, and orient action toward peace helped shape the moral vocabulary of Christian engagement with conflict. He refuses both pacifist innocence that ignores the need to protect the vulnerable and militaristic enthusiasm that romanticizes force. War, if ever permissible, is always tragic, never holy in itself, and must be judged by moral constraints, not by national glory.
In contemporary debates, City of God continues to offer clarity precisely because it exposes the spiritual dimension of politics without reducing politics to religion. Augustine helps Christians resist the temptation to treat political victories as the arrival of the kingdom. He also helps them resist the temptation to treat political outcomes as irrelevant to neighbor love. His framework makes room for strong moral advocacy while forbidding idolatry. It calls Christians to participate as citizens with integrity, and as pilgrims with hope anchored beyond the state.
Augustine’s enduring influence is therefore not a blueprint for a perfect regime, but a theological lens for living wisely within imperfect regimes. He teaches that political order matters because peace and justice matter, but that political order is never ultimate because only God can heal the human heart. He teaches that public life is shaped by what we love, and that disordered love produces domination, conflict, and injustice. He teaches that the church can cooperate for common goods while remaining a distinct community whose highest loyalty is to God. In an age where many people demand that politics function as salvation, and others demand that faith retreat into privacy, Augustine remains a steady guide because he refuses both demands and calls his readers to something harder and truer: faithful public responsibility without misplaced ultimate hope.

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