In the early 2000s, in my time as religion editor of The Oklahoman, Oklahoma’s then-Gov. Frank Keating always made for an interesting interview.
Whether sparring with Pope John Paul II on the death penalty or talking about his role with the church’s U.S. sexual abuse review board, Keating — a Roman Catholic — had a knack for supplying exceptional quotes.
In 2002, I wrote a series of stories on Keating’s effort to reduce the Bible Belt state’s No. 2-in-the-nation divorce rate. I used one of my all-time favorite Keating quotes in the lead story in that series:
Spousal abuse, adultery and abandonment constitute legitimate grounds for divorce, the governor said.
“But most marriages end because one party or the other is simply bored or decides that they want to have a new Jaguar,” he said.
Writing about marriage in my home state gave me some insight into the subject and whetted my appetite for news reports on divorce-rate trends.
I was fascinated by tmatt’s “Dissecting big Christian divorce myth” post last week.
And, yes, I couldn’t wait to read a New York Times story today with this headline:
Once Rare in Rural America, Divorce Is Changing the Face of Its Families
Unfortunately, the Times piece is haunted by what we at GetReligion refer to as ghosts, not to mention misleading statistical analysis.
The top of the story:
SIOUX COUNTY, Iowa — In the 1970s, the divorce rate was so low in this rural northwest Iowa County that it resembled the rest of America in the 1910s. Most of its 28,000 residents were churchgoers, few of its women were in the work force, and divorce was simply not done.
So it is a bitter mark of modernity that even here, divorce has swept in, up nearly sevenfold since 1970, giving the county the unwelcome distinction of being a standout in this category of census data.
Divorce is still less common here than the national average, but its sharp jump illustrates a fundamental change in the patterns of family life.
Now, we Americans live in a nation that increasingly blends one emotional and entertainment culture — a U.S.A., if you will, of cable/wifi. So maybe it’s not surprising that the distinctions between rural, suburban and urban have become less distinct.
But that obvious societal transformation aside, let’s start with the facts in this story: The community’s divorce rate is up nearly sevenfold since 1970, making this county “a standout in this category of census data.” That sounds bad!
Look at the numbers closer, though: The Times reports that there were more than 52 married people for every divorced person in this county in 1980 (not sure why the lede refers to 1970 and the body of the report uses 1980 figures). Now, there are just 14 married people for every divorced person, according to the story. That sounds bad!
But how does the current divorce rate compare to the rest of the nation? You’ll have to do your own math because the Times doesn’t compare apples and oranges in the story. But the story does include this:
Nationally, there were about 121 million married adults and 26 million divorced people in 2009, compared with about 100 million married and 11 million divorced people in 1980.
OK, according to my calculator, there were nine married people for every divorced person in America in 1980. Now, there are 4.65 married people for every divorced person.
What does that mean in the context of this story? Well, it means that the note that “Divorce is still less common here than the national average” might qualify for Understatement of the Year. In fact, this county boasts a divorce rate that is one-third of the national average. That sounds good!
Meanwhile, in its effort to explain the increasing divorce rate in Sioux County, the Times resorts to vague, generic (stereotypical?) language about values and Christians.
We learn that:
Craig Lane, a divorce lawyer from the area, described the county’s conservative nature like this: “If steam is coming from your dryer vent on Sunday, you’ll hear about it from your neighbor.”
Time has worn away some of its old values. These days, Sioux Center looks more like a suburb than a village. There is a McDonald’s and a mall, where residents shop to the sound of Christian music.
What old values? What kind of Christian music — old-time gospel or screamo rock? And, just for the fun of it, exactly how do Big Macs contribute to the demise of marriages?
We learn about the divorce of a woman named Nancy Vermeer:
When Ms. Vermeer divorced in 2002, she became the first teacher in her Christian school to do so. Divorce was more common than it had been in past decades, but she still felt judged, so she developed habits to keep a low profile, like going to the grocery when no one she knew would be there.
Does her Christian school have a denominational affiliation? An official policy on teachers divorcing? Is Vermeer herself a Christian — if so, what kind?
We learn that a young pastor of an unnamed church is trying to fight taboo topics like divorce in this community (which seems like a strange fight to have to wage in a place where people are reportedly divorcing like crazy these days, but I digress):
“There’s a perception here that you need to be perfect,” said the Rev. John Lee, a young pastor who has tried to encourage change in Sioux County by taking on taboo topics like divorce and mental illness in his sermons.
“Cars are washed, lawns are mowed in patterns and children are smiling,” Mr. Lee added. “When you admit weakness, you invite shame.”
The reason can be traced to Sioux County’s roots. About 80 percent of residents, most of whom are descendants of Dutch immigrants, belong to a major denomination church, compared with 36 percent of all Americans.
What does that even mean — belong to a major denomination church? Besides the generic unnamed church where the young pastor ministers, what are the major congregations in this town? What do those churches’ leaders teach and have to say about the climbing divorce rate here and nationwide?
We learn that:
Sioux Center might be rural, but it is relatively affluent, buoyed by a biotech industry and a stable manufacturing base. Its Christian college, Dordt, is a major presence.
What is Dordt’s denominational affiliation? (Click here if you’d really like to know, but don’t bother looking for that detail in the story.)
Oh, it probably doesn’t matter. The important thing to know about divorce in this community is this: The sky is falling! The sky is falling!
Just ask Chicken Little — er, the Times.