If conservative Christian political strategists are shrewd--which they often are--then they will learn in 2016 from their mistakes in 2008 and 2012. Those mistakes left them with presidential nominees such like Sen. John McCain and former Massachusetts Gov. Mitt Romney --nominees who were sort of acceptable, but certainly not ideal.
Next time around they won’t settle for second (or third, or fourth) best. They won’t enter the primary stage without being unified behind a fellow traveler—remember how long it took them to finally embrace former Arkansas Gov. Mike Huckabee four years ago? And they won’t spend months disagreeing among themselves over an “embarrassment of riches” slate that gave them intriguing faith-friendly options ranging from Herman Cain, to Newt Gingrich, to Rick Perry, to Michele Bachmann.
No. They will unify behind one Bible-believing candidate. And they will do so months before the soothing tones of Amazing Grace are crooned at the first GOP primary debate.
It is with that context in mind that we can make sense of Rick Santorum’s deft, and intriguingly muted address Tuesday at the Republican National Convention. Let there be no doubt: with his impressive showing among evangelicals this past winter, the former senator from Pennsylvania is presently the leading candidate to receive the Christian Right’s unified and early benediction should they need to endorse around, say, 2014.
In Tuesday’s oration Santorum did a nice job of not raining on Romney’s parade. He did not, needless to say, reiterate his memorable quip that “Romney was the worst Republican in the country to put up against Barack Obama.” Then again, he only mentioned Romney’s name three times in the entire speech.
That’s because this address was about Santorum 2020--or maybe even Santorum 2016 should his aforementioned fears about Romney come to fruition. The senator delivered his themes clearly. Yet he did so in coded language that did not immediately lend itself to the charge of extremism. This is a charge that Akinized RNC organizers--though not necessarily Santorum--are desperately intent on avoiding.
Instead of getting into an extended street brawl about gay marriage —as he inexplicably did with college kids in New Hampshire—Santorum simply spoke about “the assault on the marriage and the family.” Instead of lamenting that he wanted to vomit upon reading John F. Kennedy’s famed speech on church-state separation, he simply observed: “with God’s help and good leadership we can restore the American dream.”
Instead of associating a college education with snobbism he celebrated the virtues of Americans who work with their hands. He didn’t say a word about Obama having a “phony theology.” Though he did intone: “I thank God that America still has one party that reaches out their hands in love to lift up all of God’s children – born and unborn – and says that each of us has dignity and all of us have the right to live the American Dream.”
He did not wear a sweater vest. But he did wear a beaming smile--secure in the knowledge that, at present, he is the future anointed one of the Christian Right.