In the 2024 US presidential campaign, neither Kamala Harris nor Donald Trump are making religion an issue. Yet, argues Frédéric Strack, religion plays a significant role in differentiating the Republican and Democratic approaches to politics, as reflected in this summer’s Republican and Democratic National Conventions
National Conventions in America are, by definition, conventional. Elected officials from each party gather to throw their support behind their chosen candidate. However, these events also follow a specific protocol with which European audiences may be unfamiliar. Each day opens with the Posting of the Colors and a recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance, after which ministers take the stage to deliver invocations. The same happens at the close of each day.
To (Western) Europeans, it may sound strange to hear religious leaders leading prayers at a political convention. But it reflects a long-term difference between the US and Western Europe, one accounted for by sociologists Peter Berger and Grace Davie, among others. Prayers and sermons invoke God as a unifying force who created the world. It is this soft conception of God – one that can resonate with conservative as well as liberal believers from all faiths, and even agnostics – that Robert Bellah described as a civil religion.
The invocation of God at US political Conventions is not perfunctory protocol; it tells a story about how Democrats and Republicans conceive of religion
Appeals to religion in the US are nothing new, and are shared across the two main political parties. As such, they receive little attention from the media, which prefers to focus on confrontational issues, such as immigration or the economy.
However, the two parties' conceptions of religion are not the same. Invocations of God are not just perfunctory protocol; they tell another story about how the two parties conceive of religion.
What jumped out when I watched the Democratic National Convention’s invocations was the diversity of represented religions. The fifteen ministers represented broke down as follows: one Catholic priest, one Christian Orthodox archbishop, one Hindu priest, one interfaith minister, two imams, three rabbis, and six pastors. Four of the ministers were women. In a show of interfaith solidarity, most ministers came onstage in pairs. For example, on day one, a rabbi and a pastor performed their prayers alongside each other, one after the other. The same happened on day two, with, symbolically, a rabbi and an imam.
What jumped out when watching the Democratic National Convention’s invocations was the diversity of represented religions
The Convention’s invocations were also diverse, representing various intrafaith streams. Among the three rabbis, one was from a reconstructionist synagogue, one from a conservative synagogue, and one from an unaffiliated synagogue. Among the six pastors, one was from a Pentecostal church, two from a Baptist church, and three from a Methodist church.
The ministers were mainstream, too, mostly from well-identified religious institutions such as the African Methodist Episcopal Church and The House of the Lord Church.
In contrast, the Republican National Convention’s invocations reflected an evangelical orientation. Of the ten officiants, one was a Christian Orthodox archbishop (the same as the Democratic National Convention), one was Sikh, and eight were pastors.
Intrafaith diversity was also more limited. All eight pastors came from independent evangelical churches. One had Lutheran roots, and two Baptist, but they all shared the defining points of conservative evangelism: insistence on the figure of Jesus and the good-versus-bad divide. Many ministers asked the audience to pray; indeed, many were seen laying on hands – a typically evangelical gesture. The Convention even featured a minister from an outspoken messianic church.
The Republican National Convention’s invocations reflected an evangelical orientation, and intrafaith diversity was limited
Unsurprisingly, no imam or Muslim leaders were present. More surprisingly, given the Republican Party's appeal to Jewish voters, was the absence of Jewish ministers. On day two, the executive director of the Republican Jewish Coalition appeared onstage, and on day three, an Orthodox Jewish student. However, neither stood as religious leaders, nor did they perform prayers. Instead, they made the Republican case against the Democrats over the issue of antisemitism. The Orthodox Jewish student, for example, was a Harvard graduate who had sued his university for allegedly failing to combat antisemitism.
Among the ten officiants, seven were ministers, all of whom were male. The three female officiants were Republican officials, but not religious ministers. All ministers appeared individually, too.
The Pledge of Allegiance declares that the US stands firm as 'one nation under God'. Yet the content of the prayers at political conventions suggests that may not be the case. Indeed, beyond who speaks, what they say speaks volumes about the nature of their religion.
Ministers at this year's Democratic National Convention advocated for harmony and peaceful coexistence between all citizens. For instance, on day one, Pastor Cindy Rudolph urged the audience 'to choose hope over hostility, compassion over callousness, and liberty over tyranny'. On day four, immediately after the long-awaited Kamala Harris speech, Reverend Amos Brown, one of the few remaining students of Martin Luther King, took to the stage. In his benediction, he hailed: 'a future for every American where the humanity of all persons will be affirmed and celebrated'. In general, ministers did mention Kamala Harris and Tim Walz, but tended to talk more about other elected officials.
Ministers at the Democratic Convention did mention Kamala Harris and Tim Walz, but tended to talk more about other elected officials. Ministers at the Republican Convention, by contrast, insisted on referencing Donald Trump
Ministers at the Republican National Convention, on the other hand, insisted on referencing Donald Trump. Franklin Graham, son of the famous televangelist Billy Graham, blessed Trump in the lead-up to his acceptance speech. Only one name was repeated as often as Trump's: Jesus Christ.
Some ministers engaged in more obvious partisanship, praying for Donald Trump's re-election. On day three, evangelical pastor Packy Thompson paraphrased Donald Trump’s 2016 motto, calling upon 'Father God' to 'help make America great, once again'.
Messianic evangelicalism is nothing new in the United States, especially in the Republican party. But the evangelistic tone of the Republican National Convention stands in stark contrast with the Democratic National Convention's consensual conception of God.
Whether or not America is ‘strong’ (Trump’s new motto), or can become ‘strong again’, remains open to debate. What is certain, however, is that American politics is polarised – and strongly so.
Frédéric's work focuses on the public regulation of fundamentalist religion in Europe and North America.
He is particularly interested in the collective action strategies of religious minorities and the reconfiguration of notions of secularism and laïcité.
Frédéric's doctoral thesis focused on Orthodox Jews in France.
His publications include an article in the journal Social Compass.
Frédéric contributed a chapter to the book When Politics Meets Religion, published by Routledge in 2024.
