Page is an American journalist, syndicated columnist, and senior member of the Chicago Tribune editorial board.
Black voters have traditionally been pivotal to the fortunes of the Democratic Party, but some recent polls have suggested that they are proving less bankable for President Joe Biden than in the past. Whether or not as many as 20% of Black voters have in fact deserted the Democrats, as some recent polls suggest, is a contested matter. But it’s probably fair to say that Democrats currently are in more of a defensive than a growth mode with that portion of the electorate.
But what of Donald Trump and evangelicals? Does the same apply?
Historically, what we used to know as the evangelical bloc has meant a lot to the GOP base, much like Black voters have been crucial to the Democratic base. But both of these truisms are looking less reliable this time around as we see churchgoing declining in America and more factions developing within a previously homogenous bloc. Abortion politics comes into play here too and Trump’s stance on the issue not only has been near impossible to pin down but also has appeared to many evangelicals to be a matter of political expediency, not sincere moral conviction.
That said, it’s also true that the idea of a single evangelical point of view is looking increasingly dated as cultural and political earthquakes have erupted inside the church just as they have within our current presidential race. Clearly, some of former President Trump’s statements in recent months have driven a wedge between his campaign and religious voters, particularly those all-important evangelicals,In April, for example, he said he believed abortion should be regulated at the state level, with very little interference from the federal government. His statements were met with strong backlash from the very same anti-abortion rights groups that had celebrated his appointment of the Supreme Court justices who helped write the landmark decision to overturn the Roe v. Wade ruling.
Trump’s head-spinning logic was impossible to follow. He took credit for the decision the three Trump-appointed justices helped make, but he then appeared to turn against its consequences, saying the states should make their own decisions about regulating abortion.
Trump’s new position infuriated the Susan B. Anthony Pro-Life America organization, which favors a federal ban on abortion nationwide and condemned Trump’s comments as a “morally indefensible position for a self-proclaimed pro-life presidential candidate.” That should hardly have come as a surprise.
The issue now for Republicans, and Trump, is whether it will matter. And there’s a growing sense within Trump’s presidential campaign that he actually can afford some erosion of the traditional Republican support coming from evangelicals. That’s because Trump’s most impactful base of support in the 2016 primary contest came from a rising group in the GOP whose impact has been largely unnoticed: Republicans who are thoroughly disinterested in churches, synagogues or other places of worship.
Ryan Burge, an associate professor of political science at Eastern Illinois University and the research director for Faith Counts, has authored several books on church attendance including “The Nones: Where They Came From, Who They Are, and Where They Are Going.”
“Nones” is Burge’s label for the “non-affiliated” or “none-churchgoers.” No religious affiliation has morphed from 5% of the population to nearly 30% over the past half-century, according to Pew Research Center.
“The data show that the former president’s support among this low-attender group is growing, which means that in the short term, even if Trump does alienate some religiously devout members of the religious right,” Burge wrote in Politico last fall, “he remains well positioned to secure the nomination.”
That came true, and, from there, the evidence of continuance is compelling. Take this statistic from Burge’s article: “In 2016, 39% of all Republican voters attended church less than once a year. In comparison, just 36% said that they attended religious services at least once a week.”
It’s reasonable to assume that in 2024, the number of churchgoing Republicans has declined even further. Significantly so. And thus, they matter less to the ever-expedient Trump’s campaign for president.
Dozens of books and other media have been produced to try to explain the unexpected bond between white evangelical Christians and Trump’s populist MAGA movement. Or so everyone has been thinking.
But it might well be that they are missing the bigger point.
There simply are fewer Republican evangelicals these days, and the MAGA crowd now is better able to get along just fine without them.
First posted 4/19, 2024. (C)2024 Tribune Content Agency, LLC.




















Eric Trump, the newly appointed ALT5 board director of World Liberty Financial, walks outside of the NASDAQ in Times Square as they mark the $1.5- billion partnership between World Liberty Financial and ALT5 Sigma with the ringing of the NASDAQ opening bell, on Aug. 13, 2025, in New York City.
Why does the Trump family always get a pass?
Deputy Attorney General Todd Blanche joined ABC’s “This Week” on Sunday to defend or explain a lot of controversies for the Trump administration: the Epstein files release, the events in Minneapolis, etc. He was also asked about possible conflicts of interest between President Trump’s family business and his job. Specifically, Blanche was asked about a very sketchy deal Trump’s son Eric signed with the UAE’s national security adviser, Sheikh Tahnoon.
Shortly before Trump was inaugurated in early 2025, Tahnoon invested $500 million in the Trump-owned World Liberty, a then newly launched cryptocurrency outfit. A few months later, UAE was granted permission to purchase sensitive American AI chips. According to the Wall Street Journal, which broke the story, “the deal marks something unprecedented in American politics: a foreign government official taking a major ownership stake in an incoming U.S. president’s company.”
“How do you respond to those who say this is a serious conflict of interest?” ABC host George Stephanopoulos asked.
“I love it when these papers talk about something being unprecedented or never happening before,” Blanche replied, “as if the Biden family and the Biden administration didn’t do exactly the same thing, and they were just in office.”
Blanche went on to boast about how the president is utterly transparent regarding his questionable business practices: “I don’t have a comment on it beyond Trump has been completely transparent when his family travels for business reasons. They don’t do so in secret. We don’t learn about it when we find a laptop a few years later. We learn about it when it’s happening.”
Sadly, Stephanopoulos didn’t offer the obvious response, which may have gone something like this: “OK, but the president and countless leading Republicans insisted that President Biden was the head of what they dubbed ‘the Biden Crime family’ and insisted his business dealings were corrupt, and indeed that his corruption merited impeachment. So how is being ‘transparent’ about similar corruption a defense?”
Now, I should be clear that I do think the Biden family’s business dealings were corrupt, whether or not laws were broken. Others disagree. I also think Trump’s business dealings appear to be worse in many ways than even what Biden was alleged to have done. But none of that is relevant. The standard set by Trump and Republicans is the relevant political standard, and by the deputy attorney general’s own account, the Trump administration is doing “exactly the same thing,” just more openly.
Since when is being more transparent about wrongdoing a defense? Try telling a cop or judge, “Yes, I robbed that bank. I’ve been completely transparent about that. So, what’s the big deal?”
This is just a small example of the broader dysfunction in the way we talk about politics.
Americans have a special hatred for hypocrisy. I think it goes back to the founding era. As Alexis de Tocqueville observed in “Democracy In America,” the old world had a different way of dealing with the moral shortcomings of leaders. Rank had its privileges. Nobles, never mind kings, were entitled to behave in ways that were forbidden to the little people.
In America, titles of nobility were banned in the Constitution and in our democratic culture. In a society built on notions of equality (the obvious exceptions of Black people, women, Native Americans notwithstanding) no one has access to special carve-outs or exemptions as to what is right and wrong. Claiming them, particularly in secret, feels like a betrayal against the whole idea of equality.
The problem in the modern era is that elites — of all ideological stripes — have violated that bargain. The result isn’t that we’ve abandoned any notion of right and wrong. Instead, by elevating hypocrisy to the greatest of sins, we end up weaponizing the principles, using them as a cudgel against the other side but not against our own.
Pick an issue: violent rhetoric by politicians, sexual misconduct, corruption and so on. With every revelation, almost immediately the debate becomes a riot of whataboutism. Team A says that Team B has no right to criticize because they did the same thing. Team B points out that Team A has switched positions. Everyone has a point. And everyone is missing the point.
Sure, hypocrisy is a moral failing, and partisan inconsistency is an intellectual one. But neither changes the objective facts. This is something you’re supposed to learn as a child: It doesn’t matter what everyone else is doing or saying, wrong is wrong. It’s also something lawyers like Mr. Blanche are supposed to know. Telling a judge that the hypocrisy of the prosecutor — or your client’s transparency — means your client did nothing wrong would earn you nothing but a laugh.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.