My main problem with Amy Sullivan’s TIME article, “The Origins of the God Gap,” is that it spends most of its time nibbling around the edges of its subject without ever cutting to the chase.
I’m sure Sullivan is correct to argue that Michael Dukakis might have done better with Catholic voters had he not spurned invitations to speak at Catholic institutions. But it makes no sense to ignore the larger dynamic here — by the time Dukakis ran for office, Catholic voters were already established as “Reagan Democrats,” which is to say “Republicans.” (It’s also odd that Sullivan would discuss the 1988 campaign as an example of Democrats’ alleged hostility to faith without mentioning that, throughout most of the primaries, Dukakis was neck-and-neck with the Rev. Jesse Jackson, whose stump speech was a revival-meeting sermon.)
Sullivan also writes things like this:
Republicans relentlessly charged Democrats with waging a war on faith (or Christmas or the Bible).
Well, yeah, but why we should take such hysterical attacks as evidence of an actual Democratic “war on faith” is not clear.
All of this is, at most, tangential to the core question of why the so-called “God gap” in partisan voting exists — why evangelical Christian and Catholic voters reliably cast their ballots for Republican presidential candidates. The answer there is very simple: Most evangelical Christians and Catholics are opposed to abortion rights and the Republican Party is opposed to abortion rights. It’s the abortion, stupid.
The God gap, in other words, has little to do with religious rhetoric, or with where candidates agree to speak, or with any other symbolic effort at “faith friendliness.” It has to do with an actual policy position. On this particular policy position the stance of Voting Bloc X aligns with the stance of Party Y. It should not be surprising or mysterious or puzzling to anyone, then, that the members of Voting Bloc X tend to cast their votes for the candidates of Party Y.
This gets inflated into something more confusing than it really is because this particular policy position tends, to these particular voters, to be the single-most important factor in deciding their vote. (Here, it should be noted, there is a big difference between the priorities of X and Y. The position of anti-abortion voters is shared by the Republican Party, but the party seems to hold this position mainly as a means of ensuring the continued loyalty of these voters. It is not, for the party, as urgently and pre-eminently important as it is for these voters.)
The other apparent source of confusion here is that this position is, for most of these voters, religiously motivated. The gist of Sullivan’s advice about “faith friendliness” seems to be that it is possible to woo such voters with appeals to the religious beliefs that motivate their policy stance without actually endorsing the stance itself. That strikes me, frankly, as more disrespectful of the substance of their faith than anything Michael Dukakis might have said or done. It also strikes me as a bit like suggesting that Richard Nixon should have gotten the pacifist vote because he was a Quaker. These voters have taken a policy stance that arises from their understanding of their faith, but the stance itself is what determines their vote. They will side with an impious pro-lifer over a pious and devout pro-choicer every time. It’s not clear that Sullivan appreciates that.
We’re taking here about abortion — a topic that seems to provoke more heat than light. One odd thing about the politics of abortion is that the possibility of persuasion seems completely off the table. It thus becomes all about rallying the already persuaded, hoping that our side outnumbers their side. Either that or candidates just change the subject, hoping that other issues will carry more weight (this seems to be Giuliani’s approach in the GOP primary).
I give Sullivan credit for trying to get beyond preaching to the choir — for trying to put persuasion back on the table and to find a way to reach out to those on the other side. But I think that if you’re going to do that credibly, you can’t just nibble around the edges, talking about “faith” while avoiding the conclusions voters have reached due to their faith. I think this calls for something more. I don’t think candidates who support abortion rights should merely be embracing “faith friendly” rhetoric in the hopes of scoring points with people of faith who oppose abortion rights. I think those candidates should be explaining, forthrightly, why they support such rights and why they believe others should as well.
Three final points here, which I will try to state as generally as possible because, while I believe these apply to the politics of abortion, I also think they apply more generally:
1. When a disagreement involves questions of principle, a willingness to compromise, meeting your opponents half way, is not an effective approach to persuasion. Your willingness to compromise might make you seem more reasonable and appealing to some, but to many others it simply makes you seem unprincipled.
2. When rallying the troops and firing up the already persuaded it makes a certain kind of sense to focus on the worst motives demonstrated by the most egregious of your opponents. But if you’re trying to persuade your opponents, then the presumption of charity isn’t only a more just approach, it’s also a more pragmatic one. If you want to persuade, you need to address the strongest case your opponent can make, not the weakest one, and you need to address that strongest case head on.
3. When rallying the troops and firing up the already persuaded it makes a certain kind of sense to point out inconsistencies in your opponents’ views and to attack these as evidence of hypocrisy or duplicity. But if you’re trying to persuade your opponents, then you need to recognize that such inconsistencies are an opportunity to raise questions they may already be half asking themselves.
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