What's the Matter With Frank?

Before the holidays, TPMCafe hosted a discussion, which I helped kick off, of Max Blumenthal's newest book, Republican Gomorrah. His work reads like a gruesome exposé of the seedy underbelly of the U.S. Evangelical movement. It documents a religious oligarchy -- influenced heavily by raging theocrats, like R.J. Rushdoony -- that has immersed itself thoroughly in mainstream politics. Blumenthal is operating like Matt Taibbi; his Goldman Sachs the paternalistic James Dobson and his expansive empire.

The book discussion veered in an interesting direction, focusing on the underdeveloped, but tenuous idea of Obama as a Messianic figure. I wish the conversation would have also dealt with another argument Blumenthal makes in his book. Describing the emergence of the "value voter," Blumenthal addresses Thomas Frank's influential thesis. Blumenthal dismisses the idea that lower-class, religious citizens are simply voting against their self-interest. They are smarter than that. Instead, these voters prioritize the emotive born-again, evangelical experience. And they identify with, and, so, vote into office, officials that share this. That's what bestowed us with the likes of W. and Palin.

I think this is as valid point. And it's one of the more intriguing ones Blumenthal makes -- the other, adapted from Eric Fromm's psychology, that Dobson et al. are imbued with an eerie sadomasochistic authoritarianism. While I can't fault him for spending more time on the latter (it's far kinkier), I would like to see a deeper exploration of the first.

Liquid Faith

Here's the lede to my post on religious hybridity and the immigrant experience. Read it over at Killing the Buddha where it is much prettier.

The men have arrived in the U.S. within the past two years from rural towns in southern Mexico. Following social connections and available work, they settled in a cramped apartment in a region of the country known for its single-family homes and open fields. The disproportionately large size of the sacred space here is a potent metaphor for the central role of religion for these immigrants as they acclimate to a new, often hostile home. Their home altars are also a clear indicator of the gradual transformations immigrants are making in the fabric of religious life across middle America.

Brushing The Aughts Stroke

On New Year's Eve, The Guardian published a post from Sarah Posner on evolution of the evangelical movement over the decade. I agree with her central idea here that the brand of the movement has shifted from putative firebranding to pastor-cum-life coach. Rick Warren will undoubtedly be the face of US Evangelicals for the upcoming decade. And, to a certain extent, this softer, savvier facade masks the same political intent.

But I would hesitate to equate each strand of the movement. Posner cites the Manhattan Declaration, the recent conservative Christian manifesto resting on the old standbys of the culture wars, as proof of the latent theocratic tendencies. I'm not so sure that Warren and his purpose-driven crew (which just reported astronomical fundraising numbers today) is necessarily lockstep with the Declaration camp. If anything, Warren's political maneuverings are less blatant, but more influential. His ties in Africa, in particular, have diffuse policy consequences, and are not necessarily born immediately.

The modern Evangelical movement has always been broader than its public image. And this past decade it has splintered even further -- along with everything else. It was a decade of unmatched fracturing. The collapse of the singular "evangelical" -- or Christian -- identity was a far more significant development for US religion over the decade. If only we could stop reporting as if it were still there.