The Origins of the God Gap

By Amy Sullivan

In the beginning, as they say, religion in America was a decidedly nonpartisan affair. Presidents of all political stripes sprinkled their speeches with references to the Almighty. Religious Americans led political movements to battle communism and poverty, to promote temperance and civil rights. If anything, the contours of the religious landscape favored Democrats: their voters were evangelical Southerners and ethnic Catholics, while Republicans appealed to Northeasterners who were more private about their faith.

The relationship between religion and politics changed abruptly in the turbulent decade that spanned the mid-1960s to the mid-1970s. The twin disappointments of Vietnam and Watergate led to widespread disillusionment with traditional institutions, and the cynicism tainted religious authority as well.

It's hard to believe now, but it was the Democratic Party that first responded to these disillusionments in a way that appealed to religious voters. When Jimmy Carter said, "I'll never lie to you," that promise--in the wake of Richard Nixon's resignation--was potent. Carter recognized that voters now wanted to know more about a candidate than simply his position on energy policy or taxes; they cared about the moral fiber of their President as well. And they increasingly saw religious faith as a proxy, an efficient way to get a sense of a candidate's character.

Carter was also the first politician not just to speak of a generic, "God Bless America" sort of civil religion but also to talk openly about his own faith. When he used the phrase "born again" to describe himself, Carter connected with millions of Evangelicals who had previously stayed away from politics. In the summer of 1976, an overzealous pastor introduced Carter to the Southern Baptist Convention as the only candidate in the race whose "initials are the same as our Lord's!" And he earned the endorsement of Pat Robertson. On Election Day, Carter took home more than half the evangelical vote, a feat that still hasn't been matched by any other Democratic presidential candidate.

While Carter was the right candidate for the new politics of values, his party was rapidly moving in the other direction. Educated elites, particularly on the left, increasingly placed their faith in the tangible power of political action rather than the unfathomable might of a divine being. And they misread the direction of the country. Far from becoming less religious in a postmodern age, Americans remained strongly devout, with 80% or more consistently reporting that religion was an "important" part of their lives. A schism widened between the people who ran the Democratic Party and many religious believers.

Instead of finding another way to talk about character and values, Democratic leaders rejected the Carter model altogether, effectively opting out of a conversation with Evangelicals. Later, as debate over abortion laws heated up in the 1980s, Democrats compounded the mistake by ceasing to talk to Catholic audiences as well. When Michael Dukakis ran at the head of the ticket in 1988, his campaign turned down all requests for appearances at Catholic institutions.

The gop, meanwhile, aggressively courted faith voters. Ronald Reagan famously told religious conservatives, "You can't endorse me, but I can endorse you." Republicans relentlessly charged Democrats with waging a war on faith (or Christmas or the Bible). And the party built an extensive infrastructure to reach and mobilize religious voters, a strategy that reached its zenith in 2004.

When Bill Clinton came along, he defied the stubborn conventional wisdom that had formed about the two parties' relationship to religion. A Southern Baptist who could literally quote chapter and verse, Clinton freely talked to publications like Christianity Today, made religious freedom a key focus of his domestic agenda and insisted his staff work with conservative evangelical leaders in addition to progressive religious allies. But in many ways, Clinton's personal comfort with religion and ability to act as his own religious liaison masked the ongoing problems of his party. Democratic leaders were happy to let Clinton sermonize. They had no interest, however, in changing their approach on abortion to reflect his "safe, legal and rare" mantra. Nor did they expand their outreach efforts to include religious constituencies other than black churches. By the time Clinton left the White House in 2001, the party was as disconnected as ever from faith voters. And George W. Bush was able to get away with arguing that his White House would protect religious organizations that had been "discriminated against" by the antireligion Clinton Administration.

Today, Democrats find themselves in an unusual situation, with a surfeit of faith-friendly front runners. If they want to court and keep new religious voters, however, this time the conversion will have to be party-wide.

Sullivan's book, The Party Faithful, will be published in February by Scribner