The kind of evangelicals who support Trump are changing. And that could be a big problem

Even the President's musings about injecting bleach to cure coronavirus can, it seems, be traced back to the prosperity-gospel televangelists he has pivoted toward

It's not easy being a preacher during Covid-19 (EPA)

Policy wins, Supreme Court victories and Mike Pence are widely thought to have sufficiently shored up Donald Trump’s base that the President’s support among evangelical Christians is guaranteed. But over the past few months, cracks have begun to emerge — and that could put him in a very difficult spot, come the November election.

In a much publicised editorial at the end of December 2019, Mark Galli of Christianity Today, a major evangelical publication, called for Trump’s impeachment citing what he called the President’s "profoundly immoral conduct". Timothy Darlymple, CEO of Christianity Today, has stood by Galli’s editorial, despite controversy. Elsewhere, the decision of the Christian Post to support the President through his impeachment led to the resignation of its political editor.

These cracks may seem superficial. Galli’s editorial, after all, was rebuked by roughly 180 self-described "religious leaders". However, while a number of prominent religious conservatives, such as Pastor Robert Jeffers of the First Baptist Church in Dallas and President of Liberty University, Jerry Falwell Jr., have remained steadfast in their support for the Trump administration, many of those “religious leaders” lining up behind the administration are somewhat different from conventional evangelical pastors. That letter rebuking the Christianity Today editorial was signed not only by leaders of typical evangelical organisations, but also by political figures such as former Republican Congresswoman Michele Bachmann and a number of prosperity-gospel televangelists.

The standard narrative on Trump’s evangelical support is that religious leaders have been willing to excuse Trump’s private and public conduct in order to secure an administration friendly to their political and judicial goals. Pastor Robert Jeffers, for example, has justified his support by saying his followers “knew they weren’t voting for an altar boy” but could use the President as a means to an end. This arrangement has allowed Trump to survive a number of scandals which otherwise would have cost him much of his political base.

But Trump’s recent pivot towards a number of proponents of the prosperity gospel —including his promotion of Paula White as a Special Advisor within the administration — had left some traditional evangelists wondering what they got into.

In case you’re unfamiliar with the concept, the prosperity gospel, preached largely by televangelists like Guillermo Maldonado and Paula White, holds that righteous Christian living — which includes followers giving large contributions to their churches as a sign of their faith — will be rewarded by financial gain and “prosperity”. It is a lucrative gospel to preach. Maldonado is likely a millionaire, as are many of his peers. While there is nothing wrong with preaching over TV and other media — indeed, many churches with large, disparate audiences find this a useful means of communication — promising divine blessings in exchange for cash strikes at the core beliefs of Christianity and evangelicalism. It was, somewhat ironically, this very practice which sparked the reformation 500 years ago. The prosperity gospel has been publicly denounced by the late Billy Graham, an iconic American evangelical leader who, it has been reported, voted for Trump in 2016.

Given Trump’s reliance on the evangelical vote, it seems strange that he would pivot towards leaders who hold a controversial place within that movement. This makes more sense, though, in the context of the President’s reliance on image. Trump rose to prominence as a reality TV star and since his days on The Apprentice has cultivated an image as a strong, savvy businessman. Whether or not you buy into that image, enough people did that Trump became the 45^th President of the United States. This focus on image can help to explain Trump’s turn towards figures like Maldonado and White. While such proponents of the prosperity gospel may not be the most effective preachers of “Christianity, the faith”, they are talented at taking full advantage of “Christianity, the brand”. Maldonado, a charismatic leader, styles himself as an apostle, while other leaders of his church are titled as prophets. While such leaders may not be the most accurate representation of evangelical values, they do look good on TV.

This shift towards prosperity-gospel televangelists has already caused Trump some difficulty. Consider, for example, the fact that his November election campaign is seeking to paint his response to the coronavirus epidemic as sensible and scientific. Trump’s most prominent gaffe of the crisis so far has been his suggestion that consuming disinfectant may be a possible cure for the virus. Towards the end of last month, it was reported that this was likely at the behest of Mark Grenon, the “archbishop” of Genesis II, which claims to be a church but which is really a producer and distributor of an industrial bleach marketed as ‘Miracle Mineral Solution’. This may prove problematic in November, as responding to a deadly disease by telling people to drink bleach chips away at Trump’s image as a shrewd operator Republicans can place their trust in.

The main issue for Trump, though, may be the diminishing support he gets from other evangelical voters as a result of his turn to the prosperity gospel. While it is unlikely that such a demographic will rally round Joe Biden, Trump’s support among religious leaders is declining, particularly among traditionally black churches: A number of black church leaders have denounced Trump’s evangelical supporters as a “radical faction”. While white evangelicals still overwhelmingly support the President, white people account for only around 60 percent of evangelicals and Trump is far less popular among non-white religious groups. Among black, born-again Christians, Trump’s average approval rating is now just 7 percent.

Any decline in religious support could cost Trump a second term. Florida, a key swing state which Trump won by just 1.2 percent of the vote, is 70 percent Christian and 24 percent evangelical. The White House has been determined to retain the support of these Christians, with Vice President Mike Pence trying to shore up support especially among non-white evangelical voters of late. It must feel like an uphill fight; one made that much harder by Trump’s association with proponents of the prosperity gospel.

The evangelical demographic is unlikely to flip its allegiance this election cycle. But any decline in its support for Trump may cost the President the all-important electoral votes of Florida and perhaps other swing states. That, in turn, would cost him the election.