K
Kickin' Ass and Takin' Names
Guest
Leading conservative pundits have discovered that the Republican
electorate is dominated by Christian fundamentalists, and they are
shocked, shocked! Aghast at the rise of the backwoods populist
preacher-turned-governor Mike Huckabee, now polling first in Iowa with
only two weeks until the caucuses, they've suddenly divined the value
of secular politics, of knowledge gained by studying something other
than the Bible.
"There is a sense in Iowa now that faith has been heightened as a
determining factor in how to vote, that such things as executive
ability, professional history, temperament, character, political
philosophy and professed stands are secondary, tertiary," an alarmed
Peggy Noonan wrote in the Wall Street Journal last Friday. "But they
are not, and cannot be. They are central. Things seem to be getting
out of kilter, with the emphasis shifting too far."
National Review's Rich Lowry concurred. "[N]ominating a southern
Baptist pastor running on his religiosity would be rather overdoing
it," he sniffed. "Social conservatism has to be part of the Republican
message, but it can't be the message in its entirety." In the
Washington Post, Charles Krauthammer's column was titled An Overdose
of Public Piety. "This campaign is knee-deep in religion, and it's
only going to get worse," he wrote.
On Saturday, former Bush speechwriter David Frum chimed in with a
National Post column titled, Don't take Populism Too Far. "It's always
important to respect the values and principles of the voters," intoned
Frum. "But politicians who want to deliver effective government and
positive results have to care about more than values - and have to do
more than check their guts. They need to study the problem, master the
evidence and face criticism."
It's nice that prominent conservatives are finally becoming concerned
about America's lurch into faith-based irrationality. It's also a bit
rich, since the GOP has spent the last three decades assiduously
courting the religious right, showering them with contracts, grants
and access to the heights of power. Republicans have rained contempt
on science and secular expertise, pushing a kind of yahoo
postmodernism in which truth is always assumed to be a function of
politics, making facts - about, say, global warming, or the failure of
abstinence-only education, or evolution - immediately suspect.
Rather than wringing their hands about the decline of reason in our
civic life, right-wing opinion-mongers have, until now, heartily
celebrated the volkish virtues of an archetypal Nascar-loving,
megachurch-attending, Darwin-denying Ordinary American. Noonan has
been the high priestess of mawkish religio-nationalist kitsch, titling
her collection of post-9/11 columns, A Heart, A Cross and a Flag:
America Today. In one piece, lamenting the fate of a man she
encountered on an airplane, she writes: "I bet he became an
intellectual, or a writer, and not a good man like a fireman or a
businessman who says 'Let's Roll.'"
Last year Lowry ridiculed a spate of books about the growing political
power of the religious right (including, I'm flattered to say, my
own): "When the theo-panic passes, maybe a few of them will regret
their hysteria." In defending Christmas against its supposed
antagonists, Krauthammer has chastised "deracinated members of
religious minorities" who "insist that the overwhelming majority of
this country stifle its religious impulses in public".
And Frum has hymned a mystical communion between Bush and ordinary
Americans that transcended mere issues. "There's a bond between Bush
and the American people that's bigger than politics. They might not
always agree with what he does - but they trust him," he wrote in a
2003 column. "It's a new kind of leadership: a spiritual leadership."
Now, along comes Huckabee - anti-intellectual, proudly faithful,
basing his bond with primary voters on spiritual leadership - and the
conservative establishment is revolted. Huckabee is their golem.
Over the years Republicans worked hard to organise Christian
conservatives, sending consultants and cash to help turn churches into
thousands of little political machines. They embraced figures like
home-schooling guru Michael Farris, whose tiny, fundamentalist Patrick
Henry College has been a top source of White House interns and GOP
congressional aids. Farris started a group called Generation Joshua,
directed by former Bush speechwriter Ned Ryun, which pays for home-
schooled kids to work on Republican campaigns.
Now he's in Huckabee's corner. "It was the endorsement by prominent
national home-school advocate Michael Farris that helped propel
Huckabee to a surprising second-place finish in the Iowa straw poll in
August," wrote the Washington Post on Monday. Home-schoolers, it said,
"could also prove to be a powerful force on caucus night".
As mainstream conservatives recoil from what they've created, their
cynicism is revealed - to us, but also, perhaps, to themselves.
Obviously, some right-wing leaders always saw the pious masses as
dupes who would vote against their economic interests if they could be
convinced they were protecting marriage and Christmas.
But there there's also a certain species of urbane Republican who live
in liberal bastions and, feeling terribly oppressed by the mild
contempt they face at ****tail parties, imagine a profound sympathy
with the simple folk of the heartland. They're like alienated suburban
kids in Che Guevara t-shirts who fantasize kinship with the authentic
revolutionary souls in Chiapas or Cuba or Venezuela. Confronted with
the actual individuals onto whom they've projected their political
hallucinations, disillusionment is inevitable. Whatever their
nostalgie de la boue, the privileged classes never really want to be
ruled by the rabble. They want the rabble to help them rule.
http://commentisfree.guardian.co.uk/michelle_goldberg/2007/12/mike_huckabee_conservative_gol.html
electorate is dominated by Christian fundamentalists, and they are
shocked, shocked! Aghast at the rise of the backwoods populist
preacher-turned-governor Mike Huckabee, now polling first in Iowa with
only two weeks until the caucuses, they've suddenly divined the value
of secular politics, of knowledge gained by studying something other
than the Bible.
"There is a sense in Iowa now that faith has been heightened as a
determining factor in how to vote, that such things as executive
ability, professional history, temperament, character, political
philosophy and professed stands are secondary, tertiary," an alarmed
Peggy Noonan wrote in the Wall Street Journal last Friday. "But they
are not, and cannot be. They are central. Things seem to be getting
out of kilter, with the emphasis shifting too far."
National Review's Rich Lowry concurred. "[N]ominating a southern
Baptist pastor running on his religiosity would be rather overdoing
it," he sniffed. "Social conservatism has to be part of the Republican
message, but it can't be the message in its entirety." In the
Washington Post, Charles Krauthammer's column was titled An Overdose
of Public Piety. "This campaign is knee-deep in religion, and it's
only going to get worse," he wrote.
On Saturday, former Bush speechwriter David Frum chimed in with a
National Post column titled, Don't take Populism Too Far. "It's always
important to respect the values and principles of the voters," intoned
Frum. "But politicians who want to deliver effective government and
positive results have to care about more than values - and have to do
more than check their guts. They need to study the problem, master the
evidence and face criticism."
It's nice that prominent conservatives are finally becoming concerned
about America's lurch into faith-based irrationality. It's also a bit
rich, since the GOP has spent the last three decades assiduously
courting the religious right, showering them with contracts, grants
and access to the heights of power. Republicans have rained contempt
on science and secular expertise, pushing a kind of yahoo
postmodernism in which truth is always assumed to be a function of
politics, making facts - about, say, global warming, or the failure of
abstinence-only education, or evolution - immediately suspect.
Rather than wringing their hands about the decline of reason in our
civic life, right-wing opinion-mongers have, until now, heartily
celebrated the volkish virtues of an archetypal Nascar-loving,
megachurch-attending, Darwin-denying Ordinary American. Noonan has
been the high priestess of mawkish religio-nationalist kitsch, titling
her collection of post-9/11 columns, A Heart, A Cross and a Flag:
America Today. In one piece, lamenting the fate of a man she
encountered on an airplane, she writes: "I bet he became an
intellectual, or a writer, and not a good man like a fireman or a
businessman who says 'Let's Roll.'"
Last year Lowry ridiculed a spate of books about the growing political
power of the religious right (including, I'm flattered to say, my
own): "When the theo-panic passes, maybe a few of them will regret
their hysteria." In defending Christmas against its supposed
antagonists, Krauthammer has chastised "deracinated members of
religious minorities" who "insist that the overwhelming majority of
this country stifle its religious impulses in public".
And Frum has hymned a mystical communion between Bush and ordinary
Americans that transcended mere issues. "There's a bond between Bush
and the American people that's bigger than politics. They might not
always agree with what he does - but they trust him," he wrote in a
2003 column. "It's a new kind of leadership: a spiritual leadership."
Now, along comes Huckabee - anti-intellectual, proudly faithful,
basing his bond with primary voters on spiritual leadership - and the
conservative establishment is revolted. Huckabee is their golem.
Over the years Republicans worked hard to organise Christian
conservatives, sending consultants and cash to help turn churches into
thousands of little political machines. They embraced figures like
home-schooling guru Michael Farris, whose tiny, fundamentalist Patrick
Henry College has been a top source of White House interns and GOP
congressional aids. Farris started a group called Generation Joshua,
directed by former Bush speechwriter Ned Ryun, which pays for home-
schooled kids to work on Republican campaigns.
Now he's in Huckabee's corner. "It was the endorsement by prominent
national home-school advocate Michael Farris that helped propel
Huckabee to a surprising second-place finish in the Iowa straw poll in
August," wrote the Washington Post on Monday. Home-schoolers, it said,
"could also prove to be a powerful force on caucus night".
As mainstream conservatives recoil from what they've created, their
cynicism is revealed - to us, but also, perhaps, to themselves.
Obviously, some right-wing leaders always saw the pious masses as
dupes who would vote against their economic interests if they could be
convinced they were protecting marriage and Christmas.
But there there's also a certain species of urbane Republican who live
in liberal bastions and, feeling terribly oppressed by the mild
contempt they face at ****tail parties, imagine a profound sympathy
with the simple folk of the heartland. They're like alienated suburban
kids in Che Guevara t-shirts who fantasize kinship with the authentic
revolutionary souls in Chiapas or Cuba or Venezuela. Confronted with
the actual individuals onto whom they've projected their political
hallucinations, disillusionment is inevitable. Whatever their
nostalgie de la boue, the privileged classes never really want to be
ruled by the rabble. They want the rabble to help them rule.
http://commentisfree.guardian.co.uk/michelle_goldberg/2007/12/mike_huckabee_conservative_gol.html
