In 1994 the news media rediscovered the Christian Right and came away perplexed. The movement seemed to contradict conventional wisdom at every turn. First, many observers were surprised that it was still strong and active, given the responsibility assigned to it for the Republican defeat in 1992. Second, its activities were neither all successes nor failures, making the story-line difficult to follow. How could a movement with such a controversial agenda contribute to unexpected Republican gains in places like Minnesota, while at the same time, candidates prominently identified with it, such as Oliver North, were defeated? Why was the Christian Right at once so strong and so weak?

No doubt much of this confusion results from well-known proclivities of journalists, including a penchant for “horse race” coverage, a focus on controversy, and a poor sense of history. There is, however, also a deeper misunderstanding at work. It is widely assumed that religion is on the wane in modern societies. Thus, its repeated expressions in public affairs, such as the Christian Right, come as a great surprise. In response, many observers are ready to interpret such expressions as temporary aberrations that will quickly fade away. In fact, the Christian Right has been discovered and dismissed in the press at least four times since it emerged on the national scene with the Moral Majority in 1979. This pattern was difficult to replicate in 1994.

Early in the 1994 campaign, South Carolina Democratic humorists quipped that only two skills were required to win a Republican gubernatorial nomination—speaking in tongues and handling snakes (Carney 1994). The reference, of course, was to the expanding role of conservative Protestants in the state's Republican Party. Unfortunately, Democratic strategists understood the dynamics of conservative Protestantism no better in South Carolina than elsewhere, and on November 8, the joke was on them.

David Beasley, a born-again Southern Baptist (but converted in an independent Fundamentalist church), received strong backing from Pentecostal and Charismatic activists and votes from conservative Protestants of all stripes, first winning the GOP gubernatorial nomination and then defeating a popular Democratic lieutenant governor for the state's top post. Beasley's success proves that identifying with a Christian Right movement organization is not an insuperable barrier to political success. His victory also brings into focus the broader role of conservative Protestants in South Carolina's continuing development into one of the nation's most Republican states.

On November 8, 1994, Oklahoma Democrats were stunned by an unprecedented GOP tide in the midterm elections. Just two years before, the Democrats still looked like the majority party: they held the governor's office, a 5-3 majority in the congressional delegation, and huge majorities in the state legislature. On Wednesday morning they woke up to a new reality. Republicans swept the offices of governor and lieutenant governor, picked up seats in the state legislature, and seized a remarkable 7-1 majority in the congressional delegation. Not since 1920 had the Republicans sent a majority to Washington, and never by such a margin.

Of equal significance is the nature of that congressional delegation. All five of the victorious Republican House members and both of the senators have ties to the Christian Right and received strong backing from conservative Evangelical voters. The lone surviving Democrat is conservative Representative Bill Brewster. From the standpoint of the Christian Right, therefore, the elections were a smashing success; Oklahoma's delegation to Washington will be highly sympathetic to their policy goals.

What produced this outcome was a fortuitous blend of discontent, resources, and opportunity. Successful social movements need resources to channel discontent and favorable opportunities to exploit. All of these came together in Oklahoma. Discontent with the drift of secular society, accentuated by deep displeasure with President Clinton (who embodied the “counterculture” in the White House), galvanized conservative Evangelicals. In turn, this discontent was channeled by sophisticated Christian Right leaders and fueled by expanding resources (money, media outlets, and a volunteer corps).

In early 1994, Virginia Senator Chuck Robb appeared extremely vulnerable. Once touted as a potential Democratic presidential candidate, Robb spent much of his first term defending himself against charges that he had attended parties where drugs were used, had engaged in extramarital affairs, and had known that his aides had possessed illegally taped cellular telephone conversations of long-time rival Governor Douglas Wilder.

Robb's difficulties began soon before he launched his campaign in March 1994. He issued a letter to Virginia Democratic leaders and activists in which he admitted to having extramarital sex, although he consistently denied that this contact had ever included inter-course. This fine distinction made him no friends among moral conservatives, who disapproved of any extramarital activity, or among liberals, who found his behavior sexist and his account implausible.

Yet on election night, Robb survived a Republican tidal wave to win a surprisingly easy victory over Republican candidate Oliver North, of Iran-Contra notoriety. North spent approximately $20 million, more than four times Robb's total, and deployed a huge volunteer army that covered the state with placards. He had the strong endorsements of Reverends Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson, and could count on the organizational efforts of the Christian Coalition, the Family Foundation, and the National Rifle Association. In the home state of the former Moral Majority and the Christian Coalition, however, North failed to carry Lynchburg (a stronghold of Falwell and the former Moral Majority), or Chesapeake, and only narrowly carried Virginia Beach (home of both Robertson and the Christian Coalition).

Beginning with the 1980 presidential campaign, the Republican coalition became dramatically more heterogeneous by the incorporation of white Evangelical Protestants. Galvanized by the desire to promote traditional moral values, these new Republicans were characterized by lower social status and less libertarian values than many regular Republicans.

Thus, this Republican-white Evangelical alliance contained, from the beginning, a strong potential for conflict and division. Its success has depended on the ability of Republican candidates to manage these differences. Such management, in turn, depends on the issues raised, candidate strategies, media agenda-setting, and the underlying state of public opinion. Two opposite outcomes have always been possible.

One possibility might be termed the “rosy scenario,” where economic and social conservatives combine to pursue common electoral and policy goals (see Nesmith 1994, 129-32). Models for this scenario are Reagan's victories in 1980 and 1984, as well as George Bush's election in 1988. This scenario might mean Republicans could take advantage of a public climate combining a “reaction against modernity” and the “moral emptiness of the public square” with “a general renewal of confidence in the market” (Reichley 1986, 35; Hutcheson 1988). At a minimum it would require a measure of pragmatism by all party factions, accepting and supporting each other's candidates regardless of divisions over specific issues. The chance of overturning Democratic control, either locally or nationally, could cement such interfactional cooperation.

When Minnesota's popular sitting governor, a moderate Independent Republican (IR), was denied his own party's endorsement for re-election in June 1994, political analysts nationwide took notice. Throughout the nation, perhaps the most visible manifestation of the rise to prominence of the Christian Right was the quixotic campaign of a little known, fifth generation Minnesota farmer named Allen Quist. But in the wake of Quist's spectacular failure in September's primary election, many observers drew the erroneous conclusion that, at least in Minnesota, the electoral strength of the Christian Right was vastly overstated. In looking beyond the gubernatorial race, it is clear that the Christian Right played a pivotal role in elevating a first-term U.S. representative to the Senate and driving substantial IR gains in the state legislature. Moreover, these successes—and Quist's failure— provide important clues for predicting the future of the movement in Minnesota and elsewhere.

Policies designed to solve environmental problems are unlikely to succeed unless they have broad public support, but the motives for mass support are poorly understood. The problem is global in scope, but most of the relevant public opinion research done so far has been carried out in advanced industrial societies, usually Western democracies. Moreover, much of this research is limited to the tip of the iceberg, focusing on what people think about environmental problems without probing into why they think it or how deeply they are committed.

The analysis of mass attitudes toward environmental problems in this article uses evidence from representative national surveys of countries representing the entire developmental spectrum, from rich to poor nations, including not only Western democracies but authoritarian regimes and recently emerging democracies from the former communist bloc. The data come from the 1990–93 World Values survey, carried out in 43 countries containing 70% of the world's population. Our goal is to determine why given publics are—or are not—sufficiently concerned about environmental problems that they are willing to make financial sacrifices and undertake other actions in order to help protect the environment.

Do psychiatrists still use word-association techniques with their patients? I sometimes do word association with my students, usually on the first day of my introductory American government classes at Rhodes College. The first word I say is “politics,” and here is what they come back with: corrupt, dirty, games-playing, ego trip, a waste. (The nicest thing I heard the last time I did this was “boring”.) Here is what they say in response to “politician”: selfish, ambitious, mediocre, unprincipled.

The teacher in me wants to despair when students associate words like these with politics. I know, as did Aristotle, that politics is a vital and sometimes noble human activity. I know that politics was at the heart of our birth as a nation. (As John Roche [1961] has pointed out, the founding fathers may be described in many ways, but no description is accurate that leaves out the word “politician.”) I know that politics was the vehicle that integrated generations of our immigrant ancestors into the mainstream of American society—the job on the city road crew that my German grandfather got from the Frank Hague machine in Jersey City is the reason that my father and then I were later able to build careers of our own in the private sector. And I know that it is politics that secures the basic freedoms that allow my students to say critical things about politics.