The elephant in the room
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residential candidate Mitt Romney had obviously hoped it would never come to this: He's set to give a speech on Thursday designed to allay Iowa caucus voters' suspicions about his Mormon beliefs, and the suspected influence LDS leaders in Salt Lake City might have over national policy if Romney is elected president.
Romney, the former governor of Massachusetts and chief of the Salt Lake Olympics effort, has been the GOP leader in Iowa and New Hampshire polls for months. But last week former Arkansas Gov. Mike Huckabee, a former Baptist minister, pulled into a statistical dead heat with Romney. Now the campaign commentariat are giddy, able to characterize the race as one between men of rival faiths, battling for must-win votes among Iowa's evangelicals; it adds spice to the built-in horse race of the nominating process, and has forced Romney's hand.
It's a complex issue, but a couple of basic truths are at the core of the Romney campaign's strategy. The so-called "Mormon issue" has always hovered over the Romney candidacy, threatening to harm it. A recent national poll by The Associated Press and Yahoo found that half of those polled said they would be uncomfortable voting for a Mormon for president. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints remains a mystery to most Americans, but if they have heard anything it tends to be a bizarre blend of attractive and off-putting -- especially in an environment like a political campaign.
For example, GOP voters are likely to know that the church embraced polygamy (but perhaps fewer know the church officially abandoned the practice more than a century ago); that blacks were not admitted to full fellowship in the faith's priesthood until 1978; and that LDS doctrine does not adhere to the common Trinitarian philosophy embraced by most other Christian faiths.
Yet otherwise skeptical evangelical voters probably know, too, that Mormons tend to be allies in the social conservative movement. As a group, they are more likely to be anti-abortion and anti-gay marriage, and the faith preaches strongly against consumption of alcohol.
Moreover, Romney's decision to finally talk about religion appears aimed at a specific slice of the GOP electorate: People who for whatever reason are having trouble bringing themselves to the point of actually voting for a Mormon. For them, Romney's campaign strategists have realized, the candidate's impressive credentials in the business world and his term as Republican governor of a thoroughly Democratic state are not enough to overcome their puzzlement regarding an unfamiliar religion.
All this might justifiably appear ironic to members of the LDS Church, whether they are Republican, Democratic or politically unaffiliated. In Utah, for example, members of the Mormon Church have overwhelmingly embraced the GOP. Now, to have fellow Republicans elsewhere in the country looking askance at a Mormon candidate on account of his religion must seem both intolerant, insulting and ungrateful.
But there it is, and Romney has to deal with it if he is to win -- or survive -- Iowa's January caucus vote. Then again, maybe Romney shouldn't be too worried: Iowa Republicans have a less-than-impressive record of picking the eventual nominees.
Word from the campaign is that Romney's speech will not address specific doctrines of the LDS faith. Instead, he will focus on common conservative ideals he shares with evangelical voters, and presumably -- like John F. Kennedy did in 1960, concerning suspicions about his Catholic faith and alleged papal influence -- reassure voters he will not be taking orders from LDS Church headquarters in Salt Lake City.
It would be comforting to have confidence that the United States is a land absent of religious bigotry. The fact that Romney feels he has to give this speech is proof, yet again, that Americans remain divided, severely, on the topic of religion. That, it seems to us, is the saddest news of all.
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