The Right Stuff
Many people
think the Religious Right has faded into obscurity and political powerlessness.
In fact, it just might be stronger than ever.
Article appeared
in the July 2004 edition of Sojourners Magazine.
by David Batstone and Mark Wexler
In
the mid-1990s, following Bill Clinton's second electoral ride to the White
House, the vibrancy of Religious Right organizations appeared to be on the
wane. Outside the sanctuary of the fundamentalist church, Jerry Falwell and Pat
Robertson had become public caricatures of intolerance and zealotry. Pundits in
the media and the liberal church deemed the movement torn, shattered, and
perhaps dead.
How then, less than a decade later, has the Religious Right
become a powerful sector of the Republican Party, holding veto power over most
any GOP maneuver?
"The Religious Right has been institutionalized within
the Republican Party," confirms Kenneth Wald, a professor of political
science at the University of Florida at Gainesville. "Just look at the
leaders of the GOP."
Note the top seven ranking Republicans in the U.S. Senate:
Bill Frist, Tennessee; Mitch McConnell, Kentucky; Rick Santorum, Pennsylvania;
Bob Bennet, Utah; Kay Bailey Hutchinson, Texas; Jon Kyle, Arizona; and George
Allen, Virginia. Other than party affiliation, what do these senators all have
in common? Each has earned a 100 percent rating on the Christian Coalition's
scorecard, voting in accordance with that organization's positions on key
legislation.
A similar pattern exists among the Republican leadership in
the U.S. House of Representatives. Majority Leader Tom DeLay of Texas, who in
part controls whether an issue will be even debated on the House floor, also
receives a 100 percent on the Christian Coalition scorecard.
Yes, the Religious Right is alive and well. Over the past
quarter century, it has grown from an adolescent, grassroots movement to a
mature political player closely integrated into the Beltway mainstream. The
results of a recent poll by the Pew Research Center for the People and the
Press illustrated the historical shift in political classification of white
evangelical Protestants. In 1987 and 1988, 34 percent identified as Republican
while 31 percent identified as Democrats. Currently, 43 percent view themselves
as Republicans against 22 percent as Democrats.
Political Roots
After the landslide defeat of Barry Goldwater in the 1964
presidential election, a small group of conservative elites, known as the New
Right, concluded that the Republican Party had to expand beyond its staunchly
anti-communist and fiscally conservative base. Headed by Paul Weyrich (chair
and CEO of the Free Congress Foundation), Richard Viguerie (direct mailing
pioneer), Ed McAteer (founder of the Religious Roundtable), and Howard Phillips
(founder and president of the Conservative Caucus, a lobby group), the New
Right sought to wake a sleeping bear, religious conservatives.
By placing traditional family values at the core of its
credo, the New Right was able to coax religious conservatives into political
life. In 1979, the group engaged Jerry Falwell to establish and lead the Moral
Majority. In short order, the Moral Majority claimed to have signed up 3
million first-time voters for the 1980 presidential elections (a disputed
number, but still startling).
Voter registration drives notwithstanding, over the next two
decades the Religious Right carefully nurtured grassroots organizations with a
decidedly outsider political mentality. The efforts of groups such as Christian
Voice, the Family Research Council, Concerned Women for America, the Freedom
Council, American Coalition for Traditional Values, and the Christian Coalition
were linked masterfully to make a strong impact on local political issues.
During this period of rapid growth, the movement concentrated on political
battles involving its key moral concerns: abortion, gay rights, school prayer,
teaching creationism in public schools, and support for a regressive tax
structure (it sees little or no gray area between socialism and tax policy that
supposedly "overtaxes" the rich and "redistributes" wealth
to the poor). In the process, the movement gleaned valuable insight about how
to work the political structure from Washington insiders like Senators Orrin
Hatch and Jesse Helms.
The mainstream media, along with most of those in moderate
and left-leaning political circles, treated the rise of religious conservatives
with derision, often depicting them as "radical extremists" out of
touch with modern American life. But an organic relationship was developing
between the legions of Religious Right constituents and the political
establishment, argues Sara Diamond in her book, Roads to Dominion.
According to Diamond, by dismissing the Religious Right, media and political
opponents enabled it to make strong inroads in established political channels
without close scrutiny of its intentions and capacity.
Outsider to Insider
Early on, Republican centrists also detested the notion of
power-sharing with the "extreme Right." The image of Falwell
vilifying his political adversaries in colorful biblical language might play to
a core audience, but it scared Republican operatives who did not want to
alienate moderate voters.
"The moderates were not at all happy about the Christian
Right's inclusion in party leadership," notes Clyde Wilcox, a professor of
government at Georgetown University. "But I don't see that [conflict] any
more, in part because the big figureheads like Robertson and Falwell are gone
and the new ones are less controversial."
The new generation of Religious Right leaders - exemplified
by Ralph Reed, formerly of the Christian Coalition and senior director of
Bush's re-election campaign in the Southeast - learned how to make compromises
and work in coalitions. "Conservative Christians who are serious about
their politics came to be more accommodating in their demands, a part of their
maturing," confirms William Martin, a professor at Rice University.
At the same time, the movement became savvier about how to
leverage its voting bloc power in order to gain a seat at those tables where
important policy decisions are made. That dynamic unmistakably was at play at
the 1998 Values Summit, a gathering of the core of the Religious Right
organizations and sympathizers within the Republican Party, including Tom
DeLay. Before the summit, James Dobson of Focus on the Family openly expressed
his disenchantment with the Republican Party.
"He argued it may be time for religious conservatives
to leave the party because they aren't paying attention to our core moral
issues," reports Napp Nazworth, a doctoral candidate at the University of
Florida who follows the movement intimately. The summit took up that critique,
focusing on the lack of coordination between the pro-life/pro-family groups and
similar-minded members of Congress.
DeLay and his colleagues in the Republican Study Committee
(RSC) - described on its Web site as consisting of more than 85 House
Republicans organized to advance "a conservative social and economic
agenda in the House of Representatives" - were not about to permit an
exodus of religious conservatives. Shortly after the summit, DeLay nominated
Rep. Joseph R. Pitts (R-PA) to organize the Values Action Team (VAT), a
coalition of like-minded religious conservatives that might bridge the divide
that separated Washington insiders from grassroots activists. The VAT's primary
goal is to link Washington insiders with grassroots outsiders and coordinate
their efforts on legislative reform. The VAT holds weekly luncheons in
Washington, D.C., that offer Focus on the Family and 30 or so other Religious
Right member organizations a direct lobbying line to the U.S. Congress. To join
the VAT, a member of Congress must pledge to be "strongly pro-life"
and have a legislative staff member in attendance weekly.
The gatherings of the VAT, the RSC, and other affiliated
meetings, such as the Free Congress Foundation's biweekly breakfast, are
creating a potent synergy in Washington. "They influence Congress because
they represent a united front," says Nazworth, who has participated in
these gatherings. "That's the way things work in Congress; you need to
have independent enclaves of power," he explains.
Of course, the meetings only take place because the
Religious Right movement is busy gathering constituents in local churches who
mail their members of congress and who support the "right"
candidates. Once those candidates get elected, then the movement has even more
friends in Congress.
Cracks in the Coalition
Despite the appearance of a united front, not all is smooth
among religious conservatives and their political allies. Coalitions, by
design, create a bottleneck on policy. Constituents typically hold tight to
their principal issue(s) while trying to remain open to the agendas of other
coalition members.
John Green, a leading authority on evangelical political
engagement, underscores that the Religious Right is not always willing to bend
its political will. According to Green, who was allowed to sit in on a
Religious Right leadership meeting, one top leader said, "The Republicans
need to understand that we have two non-negotiables - we're pro-life and we're
pro-marriage. We might not be happy to move on other issues, but we're willing
to make some concessions. But not on those two things."
Advancement in coalition tactics does not alleviate the
painful sting felt deeply within the Religious Right at the lack of victories
on its issues. By and large, the movement has not been very successful at
changing public policy. That's not unusual; it's difficult to change the law in
the United States. Feminists, environmentalists, and civil rights advocates
hold a similar frustration that their respective social movements are unable to
make a more lasting impact on the political structure of the country.
But the Religious Right is not ready to make its peace with
political entropy. Nazworth claims that its leaders "have sent the message
that you [Republicans] need to be on top of our issues or we're not going to
help you get re-elected." This demonstrates the importance of holding a
piece of the electoral constituency. In defense of their issues, the Religious
Right's outsider organizations can threaten to pull their support for
Republican candidates, effectively putting a stranglehold on party politics as
usual.
"When George W. Bush talks politics in the White House,
believe me, they talk about evangelicals," affirms Green, who runs the Ray
C. Bliss Institute of Applied Politics at the University of Akron. "They
ask, ‘How are the evangelicals going to react to this; what are they going to
make of that?'" So while the activities of the Christian Coalition may no
longer be front-page news, the issues it cares about now get more attention.
"Though the movement faded from the public eye, it has
created a constituency in its wake," says Green.
Electoral Politics
It's a political misread to consider President Bush to be
the head of the Religious Right. While many Religious Right leaders realize
that George W. Bush is the best president for their cause that they are likely
to see in office, they nevertheless question his commitment to their core
issues.
Bush's delay in voicing favor for the Federal Marriage
Amendment caused a simmering debate within the movement's leadership about his
loyalty. His slow reaction felt like yet another shadowboxing moment - more
words but no action. In his first major speech on the subject, Bush did make
clear his opposition to same-sex marriage, but the White House immediately
thereafter leaked a message about how personally tolerant he is.
Embedded in those double signals lies the kink in Bush's
electoral coalition. An overstated alignment with the Religious Right puts Bush
in danger of losing social libertarians and moderates. These constituencies for
the most part have come to terms with integrating a social conservative stance
within the Republican Party. But this does not mean that the social
libertarians, who reject government entanglement with personal matters of the
bedroom, will be completely on board for an all-out attack on gay rights.
On the other hand, if Bush underplays his commitment to the
Religious Right and its defense of "traditional family," he may anger
that movement to the point of abstention on Election Day. Republican insiders
are convinced that 4 million white evangelicals veered away from the polls in
2000. Karl Rove, Bush's political strategy guru, lamented in a speech to the
American Enterprise Institute in late 2001 that this group was not sufficiently
energized to vote, but that "they are obviously part of our base."
The Republicans are banking on the same-sex marriage issue to energize this
sector of the electorate in the 2004 election.
By continuing to offer its support to Republican candidates,
even after years of perceived neglect, the Religious Right's insider-outsider
coalition is seeking an overdue political payoff. If Bush is re-elected there
is a distinct possibility that one, if not three, of the Supreme Court justices
could retire during his second term. The opportunity to change significantly
the judicial system is the treasure that the Religious Right most ardently
seeks.
Rove has been working the back doors of the movement's
organizations, telling the strongest, the Family Research Council, that the
Republicans are "creating a culture of life" in the U.S. courts. With
this culture shift a slew of conservative initiatives could return to the
Supreme Court's plate. If a couple of the swing votes retired - Associate
Justice Sandra Day O'Connor being the most prominent - and were replaced by
conservative ideologues, then there might be enough votes to overturn Roe vs.
Wade, affirmative action, the Texas sodomy decision, and the ban on imposing
the death penalty on the mentally retarded.
"You could see a series of very critical culturally
liberal decisions reversed in a short period of time, which would [mean] that
for Christian conservatives backing Bush was a smart wager," says Wilcox.
"Getting involved in politics, making it very partisan, putting all of its
faith in one party - it would have all paid off."
David Batstone is executive editor of Sojourners. Mark
Wexler works for the Foundation for Autistic Childhood Education and Support
(FACES) in northern California.