Indeed, evangelical populist elites have managed to make a difference in the broader society—especially in the world of politics—by drawing on their standing in this subculture. In particular, populist elites have played a crucial role in focusing the attention of politicians on matters like abortion, same-sex marriage, and judicial reform. Were it not for their networks, their institutional resources, and their mobilizing power, the United States would look a lot more like Sweden than it currently does on matters related to sex, marriage, and judicial policymaking.
The populist elites have also managed to have a major impact on the public's perception of evangelical Christianity, and not always for the best. In part because of their standing in the evangelical subculture and in part because of their polarizing rhetoric on contested social issues, the media has anointed populist leaders such as Dobson and the late Jerry Falwell as spokesmen for evangelicalism. Of course, the irony is that the most parochial and polarizing figures from the world of evangelicalism tend to be the ones most likely to be called to speak for evangelicalism in the public square. This is one major obstacle standing in the way of evangelical legitimacy in the worlds of politics and especially academia, the entertainment industry, and business.
The cosmopolitan evangelical elites who are embedded in the secular worlds of politics, academia, Hollywood, and business take a very different approach to their engagement with the world. A large minority of them shy away from the word "evangelical," and many are leery of being associated with the public face of evangelicalism—especially populist elites, whom they view as simple-minded, unhelpful to the Christian witness, and sometimes even dangerous. Lindsay reports, "One business leader told me he prefers to read Leo Tolstoy or Dorothy Sayers rather than the 'evangelical kitsch' at his local Christian bookstore." Because they are affluent, hail from the secular world, and mingle with people from a range of different religious backgrounds, these cosmopolitan elites shy away from strident rhetoric and confrontational tactics. Instead, they try to use their knowledge, networks, and abundant resources to share the Gospel and reform society from the inside.
Take Dennis Bakke, the former CEO of energy giant AES. In 1992, he and his family founded the Harvey Fellows Program, which was designed to bring evangelicals into the halls of academic and political power. Since then, the program has supported more than 250 graduate students in the fields of arts, humanities, law, medicine, and business. Many of the program's graduates have gone on to positions of leadership in the White House, Wall Street, and the ivory tower. This effort is designed, in Bakke's words, "to redeem the structures that shape society, as well as the people in it." So, rather than mount a public campaign against Hollywood depravity, as Don Wildmon might, Bakke has tried to equip bright young evangelical men and women with the skills they need to change the world from within the citadels of power.
Over the long term, Lindsay suggests, the "move-the-dial-Christianity" of evangelical cosmopolitan elites has the potential to exert more influence over society than the polarizing techniques of their populist brethren. That is, by taking up positions of responsibility on Madison Avenue, Wall Street, Cambridge Square, and the White House, evangelical cosmopolitans will be well-placed to steer America's leading institutions towards the common good and to persuade their non-evangelical peers that they too should pursue that common good. And by entering the citadels of power in a peaceful and prudent manner, the cosmopolitans are more likely to gain real, enduring influence in those citadels, compared to their populist brethren, who are usually to be found assaulting the outer walls of those very same citadels with rhetoric and public policies that often do more to repel than persuade our nation's nonevangelical elites.






