THURSDAY, DECEMBER 6, 2001 — Barry Lynn of Americans United for Separation of Church and State tells the New York Times today that Christian Coalition founder and president Pat Robertson’s decision to step down from the organization sounds the "death knell" for the right-wing political group.

Not so fast.

Even if the Christian Coalition falters under the leadership of its new director, Roberta Combs, formerly the organization’s executive vice-president, it would be naive to think that the group’s cultural and political influence in this country will fade away. If the Christian Coalition does eventually disband, its policies and ideology will live on elsewhere — perhaps with Robertson’s ministry, which he says he wants to focus on. Or with his Christian Broadcasting Network, which he says he wants to build up.

Robertson founded the Christian Coalition in 1989, one year after his unsuccessful run for president, as the Associated Press reports today. He quickly grew the organization into a powerful political lobby, drawing protests from groups such as Lynn’s, which charged that the Coalition was mixing religion with politics. In 1996, the Federal Election Commission sued the Christian Coalition, charging that its voters’ guides, which are distributed in churches, constituted partisan political activity. In 1999, a federal judge ruled in favor of the Coalition, enabling it to continue its powerful practice of distributing voters’ guides.

During his tenure as its executive director from 1989 to 1997, Ralph Reed, a calculating political operative who looks like a fresh-faced teenager, guided the Coalition to national prominence. Reed’s brilliant strategy dictated that the organization present a polite face to the nation even as it advocated hateful policies on the issues of abortion, sexual orientation, and feminism to its rank-and-file members. In particular, Reed insisted that the organization tone down its anti-gay rhetoric. He recognized early on the seemingly obvious principle (which nevertheless remains lost on many social conservatives) that Americans are basically tolerant people, and the quickest way to lose a public debate is by engaging in hateful rhetoric.

Under Reed’s direction, the Christian Coalition concentrated on local politics just as tenaciously as it did on national matters. It sponsored stealth candidates for local school boards. In New Hampshire, the community of Merrimack was turned upside down in the mid ’90s when a majority of conservative candidates — who hid their right-wing views from the public during the campaign — won election to the local school board. They quickly passed a motion barring any positive references to homosexuality in the public schools. The controversy, which had English teachers saying the rule meant that could no longer teach some of Shakespeare’s plays and civics instructors saying they could no longer ask their students to read the daily newspaper, mobilized the community. Voters, who turned out in record numbers, booted the conservative politicians off the board in the next election.

When Reed left the organization to become a political consultant, Robertson took over as director. Under Robertson the group focused less on grassroots activism of the sort displayed in Merrimack. Nevertheless, the Christian Coalition retained its national influence, which continues to this day.

Take the current make-up of the United States House of Representatives. Conservative, raucous, and anti-intellectual politicians like Tom DeLay of Texas are anything but representative of the average American. Yet they have power and sway over the American political agenda thanks to the cultural and political influence exerted by the Christian Coalition over the last decade. This influence was felt in the last presidential election, during which the Christian Coalition distributed more than 70 million voters’ guides. When then-candidate George W. Bush was in trouble, he reached out to Robertson and his ilk for help against Senator John McCain. They delivered, big-time, in South Carolina, which proved to be the turning point of the primary.

Will Robertson’s decision to step down really mark the Christian Coalition’s end? That’s hard to imagine. The organization still has over two million members. And if the Christian Coalition has mastered anything, it’s the art of getting information out to its members. Its Web site, for instance, is a sophisticated lobbying tool. Visitors to the site can quickly check the voting record of any United States senator or representative on issues ranging from abortion to education to Attorney General John Ashcroft’s nomination. (By comparison, the Web site of the Human Rights Campaign, the nation’s largest gay-rights advocacy group, is a hard to navigate, disorganized mess.) It provides tips for writing to legislators and quick summaries of legislation important to the group’s agenda.

Even if the Christian Coalition fades away after Robertson’s departure, the organization has left a permanent stain on national politics: the formerly unbroken barrier between church and state now has as many holes as a slice of Swiss cheese. And if the Christian Coalition knows how to do anything, Pat Robertson or no Pat Robertson, it knows how to exploit that. Even if the Coalition eventually disbands, the people it’s trained in political warfare will still be around and still be agitating. As we’ve learned in the last few months, religious fanaticism is nothing to ignore, regardless of who’s doing the organizing.