Monday, April 04, 2022

From the new Christian right to Christian nationalism, part 1

Up first, the 20th century.

President Ronald Reagan meets with Jerry Falwell in the Oval Office on March 15, 1983. Image courtesy of the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library

(RNS) — When I first began studying religion and American politics 40 years ago, the new kid on the block was the new Christian right. Its avatar was the late Jerry Falwell Sr., pastor of an independent Baptist church in Lynchburg, Virginia, and a self-promoter eager to lead an evangelical crusade against feminism and gay rights.

In the 1970s, white evangelicals were in thrall to the premillennialism of Hal Lindsey’s mega-bestseller “The Late Great Planet Earth.” It taught that moral corruption had taken over the world, America was no better than any other country and Christians should content themselves with going to church and evangelizing others in preparation for the imminent End Times.

In countering his co-religionists’ political quiescence, Falwell flew something of a false flag. His social values were not “Christian” but “Judeo-Christian,” his organization, the nominally inclusive Moral Majority, Inc. This was not to look like a Christian political crusade.

But when other evangelical leaders joined GOP operatives to activate evangelicals as Republican voters, it was impossible to doubt what this movement was about. And with the election of Ronald Reagan and the defeat of a clutch of Democratic senators in 1980, the New Christian Right became a thing to be reckoned with.

Reagan himself steered clear of the rhetoric of crusade, conjuring up instead the restoration of an idealized America he liked to call “the shining city on a hill.” This was, as he put it in his farewell address, “a tall, proud city built on rocks stronger than oceans, windswept, God-blessed, and teeming with people of all kinds living in harmony and peace; a city with free ports that hummed with commerce and creativity. And if there had to be city walls, the walls had doors and the doors were open to anyone with the will and the heart to get here.”

By the 1988 election cycle, the Christian Right (no longer new) had established itself as an essential component of the Republican coalition. That year witnessed a surprisingly successful run for the GOP presidential nomination by pentecostal Pat Robertson, proprietor of the Christian Broadcasting Network and host of its daily newsmagazine, “The 700 Club.”

Republican presidential candidates in 1988 included, from left, Vice President George Bush, Rep. Jack Kemp, Pat Robertson, and Sen. Robert Dole after a debate in Atlanta on Feb. 28, 1988. (AP Photo)

Republican presidential candidates in 1988 included, from left, Vice President George Bush, Rep. Jack Kemp, Pat Robertson, and Sen. Robert Dole after a debate in Atlanta on Feb. 28, 1988. (AP Photo)

Robertson’s campaign slogan, “For God and Country,” injected a nationalistic theme into the Christian right that would swell over time. After Vice President George H.W. Bush defeated him for the nomination and then won the presidency, Robertson established the Christian Coalition, which quickly replaced the Moral Majority as the movement’s marquee organization, doing serious grass-roots organizing under the direction of GOP wunderkind Ralph Reed.

The strategy of both the Reagan and Bush administrations was to give the Christian right — or religious right, as Falwell among others called it — a good deal of lip service but limited concrete action. This left a sizable cohort ready to follow former Nixon speechwriter Pat Buchanan in his insurgent effort to wrest the presidential nomination from Bush in 1992.

Buchanan’s campaign slogan, “America First,” harked back to the America First isolationists who opposed U.S. entry into World War II and whose most prominent figure was Nazi sympathizer Charles Lindbergh. Speaking in support of Bush’s renomination at the 1992 Republican Convention, Buchanan hurled down the gauntlet of religious nationalism.

“There is a religious war going on in this country,” he declared. “It is a cultural war, as critical to the kind of nation we shall be as was the Cold War itself, for this war is for the soul of America.” Where Reagan’s vision was that of an open and inclusive American civil religion, Buchanan invoked what the Italian scholar of Fascism Emilio Gentile calls a “political religion” — an intolerant and exclusivist sacralization of the nation for use as a weapon in partisan combat. 

Four years later, Buchanan was out on the presidential hustings again, and while he was only modestly more successful against the establishment’s candidate (Sen. Bob Dole of Kansas) than he’d been against Bush in 1992, shrewd insiders like William Kristol, then editor of the conservative Weekly Standard, perceived him, rather than the pro-Dole Ralph Reed, as the real leader of the Christian right.

“Pat Buchanan has now taken over a movement that Pat Robertson and Ralph Reed spent eight years building up,” Kristol told The Washington Post early in the 1996 primary season. “Ralph Reed thinks the way to win the culture war over the long term is to damp down the enthusiasm of some of his followers and lead a long march through the institutions. Pat Buchanan wants to lead a fixed bayonet charge on the elites right now. It is a very different political strategy and implies a different agenda.”

That strategy would have to wait 20 years to come to fruition. 

The story next time, in part 2.

From new Christian right to Christian nationalism, part 2

And, now on to the 21st century.

(RNS) — George W. Bush may have been the closest thing the Christian right had to a president who was one of them, but his eight years in office did little to further their political religion. The faith-based initiative that marked his first months in office was about the common good, not the culture war.


RELATED: From the new Christian right to Christian nationalism, part 1


Immediately after the attacks of 9/11, Bush visited Washington’s Islamic Center to deny that terrorism was “the faith of Islam,” thereby signaling the U.S. response would not be a religious crusade. His wars in Afghanistan and Iraq harked back to Woodrow Wilson’s make-the-world-safe-for-democracy idealism, not Lindbergh’s America First isolationism.

But the gradualist political strategy pioneered by the Christian Coalition’s Ralph Reed proceeded apace. In the early 2000s, white evangelicals became solidly locked into the Republican Party, and they have voted for GOP presidential and congressional candidates by 4-1 margins ever since. In 2002, Reed gave an object lesson in faith-based mobilization as chairman of the Georgia Republican Party when he flipped the state from Democratic to Republican control.

After Bush left office and Barack Obama assumed the presidency, the wheels of Buchanan-style political religion began to turn freely again. Hostility to Islam became a wedge issue through the birtherism that made Obama out to be a Muslim born in Kenya, the Fox News-driven “ground zero mosque” controversy and state referendums against the establishment of “Shariah law.”

Tea Party rally, Nicholas Kamm AFC

Tea party rally. Photo by Nicholas Kamm AFC

The 2010 midterms featured the tea party — or, to be precise, sundry organizations that bore its name. Created to protest taxes and the Affordable Care Act, the organizations drew heavily on white evangelicals, who were five times more likely to support than oppose it. Decked out in Revolutionary War garb, the partiers presented themselves as God-and-country patriots. 

The tea party turned out to be a warmup for Donald Trump, who made white evangelicals his most fervent supporters as he constructed an America First ideology based on Islamophobia, closed borders, beggar-thy-neighbor tariffs and religious liberty for his religious supporters. What fireside chats were for Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s presidency, political rallies were for Trump’s. The Jan. 6 assault on the Capitol was their apotheosis. 

White #MAGA QAnon Jesus carried during the January 6 invasion of the Capitol. Tyler Merbler / Flickr

White #MAGA QAnon Jesus carried during the Jan. 6 invasion of the Capitol. Photo by Tyler Merbler / Flickr

“Thank you divine, omniscient, omnipotent and omnipresent creator God, for filling this chamber with your white light of love, with your white light of harmony,” prayed Jacob Chansley, the so-called QAnon Shaman, on the Senate dais that day. “Thank you for filling this chamber with patriots that love you and that love Christ.”

The role of religion in the assault on the Capitol was detailed last week in a report from the Baptist Joint Committee and the Freedom From Religion Foundation titled “Christian Nationalism and the January 6, 2021 Insurrection.” In the introduction, the BJC’s Amanda Tyler defines Christian nationalism as “a political ideology and cultural framework that seeks to merge American and Christian identities, distorting both the Christian faith and America’s constitutional democracy.”

It would be more accurate to call this merging of identities Christian Americanism — the political religion of the Trumpist GOP.

No single piece of iconography better conveys this religion than “One Nation Under God,” the painting by Jon McNaughton reproduced at the top of this column. Based on medieval portrayals of the Last Judgment, it shows Jesus holding the U.S. Constitution, flanked by the country’s saints, with the saved (pious citizens) at the lower left and the damned (journalists, professors, feminists) at the lower right.

McNaughton is not an evangelical but a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. That Christian Americanism considers the Constitution God-given is thanks to Mormon doctrine going back to Joseph Smith that it is so.

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