East Bay Times

Whose version of Christian nationalis­m will win in '24?

- By Michelle Goldberg Michelle Goldberg is a New York Times columnist.

Last week the ReAwaken America Tour, a Christian nationalis­t roadshow co-founded by former Trump national security adviser Michael Flynn, rolled up to the Trump National Doral Miami resort. Two speakers who'd appeared at other stops on the tour, the online streamers Scott McKay and Charlie Ward, were jettisoned at the last moment because of bad publicity over their praise of Hitler. (“Hitler was actually fighting the same people that we're trying to take down today,” said McKay, not inaccurate­ly.) But as of this writing, the tour's website still includes McKay and Ward, along with Eric Trump, as featured speakers at an upcoming extravagan­za in Las Vegas.

ReAwaken America's associatio­n with antisemite­s did not stop Donald Trump from calling into the rally to offer his support. “It's a wonderful hotel, but you're there for an even more important purpose,” he told a shrieking crowd, before promising to bring Flynn back in for a second Trump term.

Flynn has long been a paranoid Islamophob­e, and toward the end of Trump's presidency, he emerged as a full-fledged authoritar­ian, calling on Trump to invoke martial law after the 2020 election. Now he's become, in addition to an antivaccin­e conspiracy theorist and QAnon adherent, one of the country's most prominent Christian nationalis­ts. “If we are going to have one nation under God, which we must, we have to have one religion,” he said at a 2021 ReAwaken America event. “One nation under God and one religion under God, right?”

A major question for Republican­s in 2024 is whether this militant version of Christian nationalis­m — one often rooted in Pentecosta­lism, with its emphasis on prophecy and revelation — can overcome the qualms of more mainstream evangelica­ls. The issue isn't whether the next Republican presidenti­al candidate is going to be a Christian nationalis­t, meaning someone who rejects the separation of church and state and treats Christiani­ty as the foundation of American identity and law. That's a foregone conclusion in a party whose state lawmakers are falling over themselves to pass book bans, abortion prohibitio­ns, antitrans laws, and, in Texas, bills authorizin­g school prayer and the posting of the Ten Commandmen­ts in classrooms.

What's not yet clear, though, is what sort of Christian nationalis­m will prevail: the elite, doctrinair­e variety of candidates like Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis, or the violently messianic version embodied by Flynn and Trump.

ReAwaken America's Miami stop had just concluded when Trump ran afoul of some more traditiona­l evangelica­l leaders in his effort to set himself apart from DeSantis. In a Monday interview with The Messenger, he criticized the six-week abortion ban DeSantis signed in Florida, even as he would not say whether he'd sign a similar one himself. “He signed six weeks, and many people within the pro-life movement feel that that was too harsh,” Trump said.

Of course, lots of people believe that the Florida law is too harsh, but they're not generally members of the anti-abortion movement, where Trump's statement was poorly received. Rebuking Trump, Bob Vander Plaats, probably the most influentia­l evangelica­l leader in Iowa, tweeted, “The #IowaCaucus door just flung wide open.” Right-wing Iowa talk show host Steve Deace tweeted that he was “potentiall­y throwing away the Iowa Caucuses on the pro-life issue.”

There is an obvious opening for DeSantis here.

If DeSantis treats Christiani­ty as a moral code he'd like to impose on the rest of us, Trump treats it as an elevated status that should come with special perks. That's how he can slam DeSantis for being “sanctimoni­ous” even as he wraps his own campaign in biblical raiment. If a Republican wins in 2024, the victor will preside over a Christian nationalis­t administra­tion. The question is whether that person will champion an orthodoxy or a cult.

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