Berkley Center

I mention this because of late I have been thinking about flipfloppery. This refers to a politician’s sudden and unexpected reversal on a given issue. The reversal often, but not always (read my lips here) takes place prior to an election. It is usually precipitated by the candidate’s dread realization that he or she will be out of a job (and a hobby) unless a previous policy position is drastically revised.

American politics, I have always believed, is theater, albeit with grave implications. What gives flipfloppery its dramatic allure is that the flipflopper must always claim that the change of heart is genuine. No matter how blatant the pandering might appear to be, the candidate must perform the complex role of someone whose soul has been overturned, irrevocably shaken, mercilessly bent toward the horizon of a new policy position.

The most conspicuous and widely discussed flip flop of this election season is probably that of former Massachusetts governor, W. Mitt Romney. He has recently embraced pro-life and pro-Federal Marriage Amendment positions, among others, that differ strikingly from things he supported just a few years back.

My interest here is less with Romney, than with the evangelicals whom he is courting. I wish to raise a theoretical question. If, by definition, evangelicals are born again in Christ, does that make them more receptive to believing a politician’s sudden “heartfelt” reversal of policy? Being “born again,” after all, is a sort of profound, authentic, existential flipflop. One fairly obvious lesson that the experience imparts is that people change—and not necessarily for tangible gain.

Are evangelical voters more likely to accept Romney’s change as genuine, as Pauline in its sincerity? And since there is a self-reflexive aspect to this blog: are secular elites in the media, who rarely experience soul inversions (and may not even have souls) inclined to cast too much skepticism on such changes of heart?