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This piece was adapted from Russell Moore\u2019s newsletter<\/a>. Subscribe here<\/a>.<\/p>\n This week on my podcast<\/a>, I talked to Rainn Wilson, the writer, actor, and comedian who played the character Dwight Schrute on The Office. <\/em>(For the first time, my kids insisted on attending a recording of The Russell Moore Show<\/em>.)<\/p>\n As he and I were talking, I started to realize that Dwight might explain how we\u2019ve arrived at this scary moment in American life.<\/p>\n In his (amazingly good) history of the television show, The Office: The Untold Story of the Greatest Sitcom of the 2000s<\/em>, journalist Andy Greene tells <\/a>of a fierce debate that broke out among the writers and producers of the show. When Steve Carell, the actor who played Michael Scott, left the show after seven seasons, the team had to decide which character would replace him as the \u201cWorld\u2019s Best Boss\u201d at Dunder Mifflin Scranton.<\/p>\n \u201cI did not think Dwight should be the boss because I think Dwight is not as benign as Michael Scott,\u201d recounts one of the writers, Aaron Shure. \u201cHe\u2019s like this weird amalgam of Mennonite and Star Trek <\/em>nerd.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI also didn\u2019t want Dwight to be empowered because I was afraid he wouldn\u2019t be funny anymore with power,\u201d Shure says. \u201cIt\u2019s funny if he sets the office on fire and blowtorches all the doorknobs. But if he did that all day long without any sort of check on his behavior, it would be terrifying.\u201d<\/p>\n By contrast, writer Danny Chun argues that responsibility might have changed Dwight\u2019s character for the better. \u201cTo me it felt like he was going to do some insane, inappropriate, horrible, and cruel things, but he may now suddenly be forced into a position to contemplate what he was doing a little more, and that seemed intriguing.\u201d<\/p>\n This in-house dispute among television writers in Sherman Oaks, California, reflects one of the most fundamental issues in American culture right now. Our nation seems precarious and anxious because our institutions are more than just weak. They\u2019re also scary<\/em>. When we look at the tech industry, public health authorities, the press, law enforcement, political bodies, the church, or nearly any other organization in American life, we see two almost equally terrifying realities.<\/p>\n On the one hand, we see leaders who lack good judgment. No one really questions whether the scientists and engineers working on artificial intelligence programs in Silicon Valley are good at what they do. Rather, we fear they\u2019re as skilled as those who created a social media ecosystem that\u2019s highly effective at isolating people through algorithms and enraging them with disinformation.<\/p>\n Similarly, no one wonders whether the pharmaceutical marketers who sold<\/a> entire populations into opioid addiction knew what they\u2019re doing. We worry they knew all too well and all too much.<\/p>\n The little nub of truth at the root of this fear is where conspiracy theories thrive. Anxious people start to assume there are all sorts of highly competent, morally depraved people running everything around them. That can be scary.<\/p>\n But the Dwight Schrute problem is even scarier. One of the most popular episodes in the series was the one referenced by Shure, in which Dwight plans a fire drill by torching doorknobs and sends the office into such a frenzy that someone has a heart attack. But as Shure notes, Dwight was limited in his ability to carry out mayhem. He was just the assistant<\/em> to the regional manager.<\/p>\n Michael Scott is an idiot, to be sure. But his idiocy is hemmed in by sweetness and sincerity. He is a delusional narcissist in many ways, but he ultimately wants to be loved and accepted by family and friends. Even when he does objectively awful things (like attempting to frame the human resources director for a crime), he still seems to have some sense of boundaries. Michael simply wants to sing karaoke with Jim, be invited to parties by Ryan, and serve as the godfather at the christening of Pam\u2019s baby.<\/p>\n When Dwight becomes manager, he hangs a dictator-style portrait of himself in the office and has the desk modeled after that of Saddam Hussein\u2019s son. But all of it seems somewhat innocuous because his position is temporary. His power appears limited.<\/p>\n We see these same pictures in our culture. People start to worry when they realize their leaders have neither the expertise to navigate challenges nor brakes for their worst impulses. What could be funny in a person without power can be terrifying in someone with actual authority.<\/p>\n Perhaps that\u2019s why people find ways to mythologize institutions or leaders when things start looking scary. To some, a political leader without a moral compass is playing brilliant \u201cfour-dimensional chess\u201d that only looks chaotic because he\u2019s too smart to let \u201cthem\u201d know what he\u2019s doing. We tell ourselves that a pastor who screams uncontrollably is nonetheless a church-growth guru who can take the congregation to the next level.<\/p>\n Behind those stories is the assumption that, as some Office <\/em>writers thought of Dwight, responsibility itself will transform character and competence. Dwight might put Sprinkles the cat in the freezer to euthanize it, but once he\u2019s manager, the thought goes, he\u2019ll actually step up to the task. The stakes are high, after all.<\/p>\n This magical thinking helps us sleep through the night, but it isn\u2019t true. Yes, Dwight finally becomes manager at the series end, but only after a long character-altering arc.<\/p>\n The idea that private character doesn\u2019t matter to public leadership is not only morally corrosive but also fear-inducing. Regardless of whether someone is the regional manager of a midlevel northeastern paper company, a church bishop, or the president of the United States, the position itself doesn\u2019t suddenly transform the person.<\/p>\n The same dynamic is true of life in Christ. Jesus tells us, \u201cWhoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much\u201d (Luke 16:10). What\u2019s internal to a person eventually shows itself. A diseased tree cannot yield good fruit (Matt. 7:18), even if the whole community is counting on it to combat starvation. Dwight Schrute might be right<\/a> that nitrogen is the most essential element for \u201cabove-ground leafy growth,\u201d but all the nitrogen in the world can\u2019t grow something out of a dead root.<\/p>\n Any mythology needs a chaos figure\u2014a Loki, a Joker, a Dwight. But when those figures get put in charge, the results are bleak. We start giving up on character and competence and start looking for an even more chaotic figure to put checks on the first. In an office, on a film set, in a country, or in a church, that way leads to \u201cThreat Level Midnight<\/a>\u201d (one of The Office<\/em> episodes). And deep down, we all know it.<\/p>\n Russell Moore is the editor in chief at Christianity Today<\/span> and leads its Public Theology Project.<\/p>\n <\/div>\n