Bush pinning hopes on nation's churchgoers

WASHINGTON — When President Bush's campaign managers talk publicly, they say the brightening economic outlook and foreign policy successes will get their man re-elected. When they talk privately, worried about lagging job creation and ever-present potential for overseas surprises, they pin their hopes on the nation's estimated 19 million evangelical Christians.

It's no secret that the so-called "red" states (those that voted for Bush in 2000) tend to have more regular churchgoers than the "blue" states (those that went for Al Gore). Whether such churchgoers will make a difference in this year's election is now weighing heavily on the hearts and minds of candidates.

When Democratic consultants get together, and whenever Republican pols huddle, they ponder whether: Howard Dean's spotty churchgoing record will hurt him; secularism is to be scorned; Joe Lieberman's dedication to his Jewish religion will help him; Bush's increasingly religious rhetoric will pay big benefits; or Wesley Clark's peripatetic religious experiences (Methodist, Baptist, Catholic, Presbyterian) will appeal to voters.

If 2004 is a replay of 2000 — in the sense that 45.5 percent of Americans say they are Republicans and again intend to vote for Bush, and 45.2 percent of Americans say they are Democrats and will vote against Bush — the battle could well be settled by a big turnout from a swing group of passionate voters. That includes evangelical Christians who might not have voted for Bush in 2000 but who now are being actively prodded by Republicans to side with him this year.

Bush increasingly has couched his global policies in religious terms — saying that God's plan includes democracy for everyone. He has framed his opposition to gay marriage in terms of religion. He wants a "faith-based" approach to solving social problems. He wants the phrase "under God" to stay in the Pledge of Allegiance. He signed the ban on so-called partial-birth abortion. Even his controversial immigration policies are set in terms of Christian compassion.

Thus, Howard Dean, the sometimes-crusty New Englander who is uncomfortable about showcasing his personal religious beliefs, is promising to talk more about God and, especially in the South, about Jesus. His controversial approval of civil unions for gays sprang, he now says, from his Christian beliefs of charity for all. It remains to be seen whether his apparently newfound public religious ardor will dismay those who applaud his candid, seemingly politics-be-darned approach to government. Dean also risks making Southerners feel patronized.