For What It's Worth

A Candid Letter

(10 minute read)

Key Takeaways:

• “Christian” America is largely a modern public relations invention
• The Christian America myth is powerful — and profitable
• Real faith requires intellectual courage

“One of the biggest changes in politics in my lifetime is that the delusional is no longer marginal. It has come in from the fringe, to sit in the seat of power in the Oval Office and in Congress.”

“For the first time in our history, ideology and theology hold a monopoly of power in Washington. Theology asserts propositions that cannot be proven true; ideologues hold stoutly to a worldview despite being contradicted by what is generally accepted as reality.”

“The offspring of ideology and theology are not always bad but they are always blind. And that is the danger: voters and politicians alike, oblivious to the facts.”

Bill Moyers, Blind Faith, In These Times, Feb. 9, 2005 (retrieved 12/21/2024)

What Did the Founders Intend?

When people talk about making America great, it may not be necessary to look too far into the past. In many ways, the country already reflects a number of the values people say they care about. In a 2022 survey by the Pew Research Center, researchers examined Americans’ views on “religion’s role in public life.”

In that survey, respondents were asked whether the founders intended the United States to be a Christian nation; 60 percent said yes. One‑third believe it already is, and 45 percent say it should be.

Taken on their own, these numbers might appear to support that perspective. There is, however, an important detail that still calls for closer attention.

Many of the familiar claims about America being a Christian nation draw on narratives that are, at best, incomplete and are sometimes shaped by organized public relations efforts. Still, there is no need to rely solely on my interpretation.

FDR, Reform, and Business Resistance

In his book One Nation Under God: How Corporate America Invented Christian America, Princeton historian Kevin M. Kruse traces some of the historical roots of the modern rise of religious nationalism in the United States.

In the wake of the Great Depression, tensions between business leaders and the federal government grew. Many in the business community maintained that the economy would recover more effectively if markets were allowed to operate with limited oversight. From their perspective, capitalism would, over time, correct itself.

FDR understood the situation differently. He and his administration argued that the economic hardships were linked to insufficient oversight and to practices within parts of the corporate sector that had gone largely unregulated. As a result, he concluded that stronger government supervision was necessary.

FDR raised taxes on the wealthy and invested in infrastructure. His administration created Social Security, expanded unemployment insurance and public assistance, strengthened business oversight and workplace safety, and in 1938 helped establish the modern Food and Drug Administration to protect consumers.

Many business leaders disagreed with FDR’s agenda. Supported by industrialists, corporations, and lobbyists, they organized a coordinated response, working with clergymen to promote a campaign framed around democracy, religion, and patriotism.

They emphasized a message that warned the government was “only interested in enslaving its people.” This rhetoric became a central theme in a broader public-relations effort known as “Freedom Under God.”

Subsequent Pew Research findings suggest a notable correlation with themes introduced in that campaign.

For more than 40 years, Americans have debated the religious intent of the Founding Fathers. Prior to this campaign, however, the nation’s founding was most commonly understood in political and civic terms—often summarized by phrases like “taxation without representation.”

Several prominent clergy participated in the American Revolution, offering theological arguments for breaking with the monarchy or debating whether it met the criteria for a just war. A central question in these discussions was whether disobeying the Crown—believed by many to be appointed by divine providence—conflicted with a God‑ordained social order.

These developments invite a broader question: how much of what we remember as longstanding religious identity is rooted in earlier history, and how much took shape more recently?

Public Perception and the Historical Record

The frequently repeated claim that America has always been a distinctly Christian nation is open to question when compared with historical data and documented evidence.

In 1850, only about 16% of Americans reported belonging to a church. Fifty years later, that figure had risen by roughly 20 percentage points. Over the next two decades, membership peaked at around 43%. By 1930 and 1940, the numbers had increased modestly to 47% and 49%, respectively, suggesting a gradual, rather than constant, pattern of religious affiliation.

By the end of World War II, however, the United States was experiencing one of the highest levels of religious affiliation in its history. In 1950, 57% of Americans identified as members of a church, and by 1960 that figure had risen to 69%.

Those figures are striking, and from a public-relations perspective they could easily be interpreted as evidence of a remarkably effective effort to promote church participation. In just over 30 years, reported church membership nearly doubled.

Before that shift, the United States was moving through one of its more secular periods, at least as measured by formal church affiliation. The historical data reflects that transition quite clearly.

Prior to the 1930s, church membership levels were comparatively low, indicating that many Americans might not have understood or described the nation as uniformly or explicitly Christian during that earlier period.

The Birth of “Freedom Under God”

Many of the modern assumptions linking national identity and religious conviction did not emerge organically from the founding era. Rather, they developed more fully in the mid‑twentieth century, shaped by particular historical pressures and cultural debates.

The connection between piety and politics was not invented out of thin air, but it was refined and amplified during this period. Faced with economic reform, global instability, and ideological conflict, various leaders sought language that would unite citizens around shared moral themes.

Although the campaign drew upon longstanding religious vocabulary, it also reflected the strategic priorities of those who organized and funded it. Appeals to faith, freedom, and patriotism were presented as mutually reinforcing ideas—an approach that resonated deeply in a nation navigating both the aftermath of economic crisis and the tensions of the Cold War.

To support their message, organizers emphasized the spiritual foundations of liberty, suggesting that political freedom depended upon religious commitment. This framing gradually shaped public imagination, influencing how many Americans came to understand the nation’s story.

As the campaign gained momentum, numerous denominations and civic leaders participated, sometimes with differing motivations but often with a shared desire to affirm moral clarity in uncertain times. Over time, phrases such as “under God” and other religious references became woven into civic rituals and public language.

Two decades later, when Dwight D. Eisenhower formally incorporated “under God” into the Pledge of Allegiance, it marked the culmination of a broader cultural movement rather than a sudden departure from tradition. The moment reflected a period in which national unity and religious expression were closely intertwined.

Is this perspective resonating? The suggestion here is not that faith was absent from American life before this era, but that the particular synthesis of nationalism and organized religious messaging took on new prominence during these decades.

The “Freedom Under God” campaign proved highly influential. Its legacy can still be seen in contemporary debates about national identity, public faith, and the intentions of the founders.

Historical Facts vs. Cultural Memory

Epilogue

If this article feels a bit pointed, please know that you’re reading a much gentler version than where it began.

If you’ve stayed with me this far, I’m genuinely grateful. I imagine some readers chose to step away a little sooner—perhaps “faster than a jack-rabbit on a date.”

The purpose of the bluntness has been simple: to invite you to begin waking from what may feel like a difficult dream and, perhaps, to gently reconsider forms of faith that have become more automatic than reflective.

F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote in his 1936 essay collection The Crack-Up: “The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function.” The line that follows, though, may be even more compelling.

“…to see that things are hopeless and yet be determined to make them otherwise.”

In my own small way, these articles are an attempt to do just that, and I’m honored you’ve chosen to spend this time with them.