Nomination of Barry Goldwater and William E. Miller to head the Republican ticket means the introduction of significant religious elements into the 1964 presidential election campaign.
The 55-year-old Goldwater, despite a decisive first-ballot victory at the party convention in San Francisco, is one of the most controversial presidential nominees in American history. The conservative political views of the one-time Episcopal altar boy set him at odds with many American religious leaders whose social philosophy promotes a centralization of government, which Goldwater opposes.
On the other hand, rank-and-file fundamentalists might line up behind Goldwater in appreciable numbers. The Arizonan could have counted on even more support had he not chosen a Roman Catholic—the first ever on a Republican ticket—as his vice-presidential running mate. Miller may draw more than enough Catholic votes, of course, to offset the liability he represents among those who still have reservations about Roman Catholic political aspirations. As a Catholic, Miller does give Republicans significant opportunity to make inroads among the traditionally Democratic Catholic majorities in the large Eastern cities.
Goldwater was the first of three children born to a Jewish merchant whose father had emigrated from Poland. Barry’s mother is of Scottish ancestry and traces the family tree back to Roger Williams. She took the children to Trinity Episcopal Cathedral in Phoenix, and Barry was baptized there by the Rev. William Scarlett, then dean and later a bishop.
Although not a particularly regular church-goer, Senator Goldwater still is an Episcopal communicant in good standing. He has said that next to his mother the two people to whom he owed the most were Scarlett and Bishop Walter Mitchell. Ironically, both Scarlett and Mitchell, now retired, take sharp issue with Goldwater’s political views but have in recent years maintained a friendly correspondence with the Senator. Both respect his courage and honesty.
Thus far, Protestant Episcopal Church leaders have withheld public comment on Goldwater, although their differences with him on such things as civil rights legislation are pronounced. The Episcopalian, official monthly journal of the denomination, has not so much as run a character sketch on him. A spokesman for the church says, however, that “if the church is drawn into the campaign by implication, we will respond.”
Other Protestant leaders may not be so aloof. The Christian Century, liberal ecumenical weekly, served notice prior to the Republican convention that if Goldwater were nominated, “we will do what we can to contribute to his defeat.” Religious News Service reported from San Francisco that several clergymen planned to try to arouse opposition to the Republican ticket within their denominations.
Goldwater’s refusal to vote for the civil rights bill was responsible, more than any other one thing, for alienating him from Protestant leaders, most of whom had thrown their full weight behind passage of the legislation. Another factor in the cleavage is the refusal of Goldwater to renounce right-wing extremists who are a thorn in the flesh of liberal Protestantism and the ecumenical movement. Still another element, one not so apparent, is Goldwater’s running opposition to government welfare programs, which have increasingly embraced religious institutions.
As if to widen the gap, Goldwater will run on a Republican platform that advocates a constitutional amendment to override the U. S. Supreme Court ban on certain public school devotional exercises. Virtually all major Protestant denominations have registered their opposition to such an amendment. The platform, however, says that the Republican party would guarantee:
“Support of a constitutional amendment permitting those individuals and groups who choose to do so to exercise their religion freely in public places, provided religious exercises are not prepared or prescribed by the state or political subdivision thereof and no person’s participation therein is coerced, thus preserving the traditional separation of church and state.”
(Perhaps the most significant religious note of the convention was sounded in the keynote address by Oregon Governor Mark O. Hatfield, Baptist layman and an avowed evangelical. He said the nation needs a “spiritual renaissance” and added that the “government by its example shares in the setting of the moral standards of the nation. To hold a political title does not excuse the holder from high standards of ethics and morality.”)
Some Protestants observers are concerned that Goldwater himself is not firmly enough committed to the principle of separation of church and state. He has said, for example, that while he opposes federal aid to education, he would nonetheless not want to withhold from parochial schools a share of any aid that might be enacted.
Whatever his views, Goldwater, unlike many other public figures, avoids trying to use the religious establishment for political ends. Several months ago, when he still needed all the support he could get, he turned down an invitation to address the annual convention of the Associated Church Press, which would have enabled him to speak to the editors of virtually all leading American religious periodicals.
Four years ago, the mainstream of informed opinion was that religion and politics ought not to confront each other as part of an election campaign, that ecclesiastical authority should have no influence over the public office holder. Many Protestant opinion leaders said at that time that they felt the Roman Catholic hierarchy would refrain from trying to impose its will upon John F. Kennedy. One of the more interesting aspects of the 1964 campaign will be to see whether these same opinion leaders will choose to intrude on the Goldwater-Miller campaign.
