IT SEEMS FITTING that the Ninth U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals' attempted deletion of God from the Pledge of Allegiance was eclipsed the next day by the U.S. Supreme Court's 5-4 decision upholding Cleveland's voucher plan.
The finding of unconstitutionality for the words "under God," by a three-judge panel of the liberal California court, has an almost antique ring to it. The decision was quickly and universally criticized as untenable and unsustainable by elected officials and legal commentators alike. Such jurisprudence is of a piece with the strict secularism that appeared headed for triumph in American politics a couple of decades ago, but is now in clear retreat. By contrast, the Cleveland decision, closely divided as the vote was, has the feel of a watershed moment in a broad shift toward a different, more favorable vision of religion's place in the public square.
For a sense of how far the political debate on religion has come, recall the "religion in politics" controversy of the 1984 presidential campaign. In a speech to several hundred clergymen in Dallas the day after the Republican convention ended, Ronald Reagan urged people of faith to become politically active, to avoid defensiveness about their right to bring a religious perspective to the national political debate.
Democratic nominee Walter Mondale instantly jumped on the speech with both feet, accusing Reagan of intolerance. He likened Reagan to an "ayatollah."
This sounded the gun on a debate that would rage between the two parties for a solid month and dominate the first weeks of
the general election campaign. The debate ranged far beyond the merits and shortcomings of Reagan's Dallas speech. There was, for example, a protracted exchange over the obligations of Catholic politicians on the abortion issue between Democratic vice presidential nominee Geraldine Ferraro and recently appointed New York archbishop (not yet cardinal) John O'Connor.
The subject of religion made strategists in both camps uneasy. The dominant figure in that year's Reagan campaign, White House chief of staff James Baker, was reportedly aghast that a seemingly innocuous speech to Dallas clergymen had turned into the central issue, diverting attention from the accelerating economic expansion. He believed Reagan's position needed a vigorous, unapologetic defense, but was only too happy to leave the issue behind when the Democrats decided, some time in September, to move on to other matters.
While the "religion in politics" controversy was in the saddle, Democrats hemorrhaged votes in the South and Midwest. In the same time frame, the Northeast and West had no net vote shifts of consequence; these regions already favored Reagan, almost certainly because of the early bicoastal benefits of the Reagan economic boom.
Reagan's gains in the South, the most religious part of the country, made his already solid lead overwhelming. But even more striking was the increased support he found in the Midwest.
The Midwest, in 1984, had benefited hardly at all from Reaganomics. The larger part of the region was still known as the Rust Belt, and the rest of it had been hammered by a farm deflation. Reagan was running no better than even in most midwestern states in August. But by September, he had taken a solid lead in the region that he never relinquished.
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