ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Sunday, February 11, 1996 TAG: 9602120041
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: A-1 VIRGINIA EDITION: METRO
DATELINE: DES MOINES
SOURCE: ESTHER DISKIN LANDMARK NEWS SERVICE
IOWA'S CAUCUS SYSTEM is perfectly suited to the Christian Coalition's low-tech, folksy method of organizing.
This time of year, the spark plug in the Iowa Christian Coalition's grass-roots engine is a stack of three photocopied sheets, folded in half and stapled, with a cover bearing a crude drawing of the statehouse dome under the words, ``Iowa Political Handbook 1996.''
It looks flimsy and homemade enough to be a joke.
Look again. Inside the covers is a step-by-step guide to attending the caucuses, a glossary of political jargon and a guide to parliamentary procedure used at party meetings. This booklet is designed to vanquish the fears of anyone who thought party politics was a dirty, messy game, best left to insiders.
``It's real simple,'' said Ione Dilley, president of the Iowa Christian Coalition, who created the booklet back in 1990 and has been mailing it to her activists since. ``But you have no idea what a good tool this is.''
That's no empty boast. Christian conservatives have taken control of the state Republican Party over the past four years, in part because of the coalition's efforts.
On Monday night in Iowa, when an estimated 135,000 Republican caucus-goers gather to vote on presidential candidates and pick convention delegates, experts predict that 40 percent or more will be Christian conservatives.
Some of them will be the same people who gave the coalition's founder, Virginia Beach-based religious broadcaster Pat Robertson, a stunning second-place finish to Senate Majority Leader Bob Dole of Kansas in the 1988 presidential caucuses. Back then, Robertson told his followers, ``It's almost getting un-Christian not to vote,'' and they took his words to heart.
Since the Iowa caucuses traditionally start the presidential race - for the first time since 1972, Louisiana came first this year, but it was largely boycotted by the candidates - Iowans have great influence on who gets down the stretch in the presidential race. Candidates who flounder often close up shop quickly. Victors, especially surprise winners, surge toward the primaries with publicity and an infusion of cash from supporters.
The caucus system - built on cozy meetings in homes, churches and offices across a rural state where people often live miles apart - perfectly suits the coalition's organizing through church and neighborhood friendships. The meetings are long and the weather cold, so participants tend toward political devotees, not dabblers. A group like the coalition can wield influence far greater than its numbers.
The Iowa coalition's handbook opens with that point: ``Did you know that only a small minority of the population shapes the policy and philosophy of our country? If you're ready for a change, then speak out by becoming involved.''
The coalition - one arm of the Chesapeake, Va.-based political organization led by national director Ralph Reed Jr. - is only one part of a conservative constellation in state politics, which includes several well-entrenched groups opposed to abortion. Other groups have mailing lists that may exceed the size of the coalition's, but leaders allow that the Christian Coalition has them out-muscled at precinct organizing.
``They took the fear out of the caucus. People thought, Christians thought, `Politics is dirty,''' said Samona Joy Smit, a lobbyist for the Iowa Right to Life Committee, which has a mailing list of 80,000. ``We let the culture go to people who didn't share our values. Now people are starting to be energized as they see our social foundation crumbling.''
The number of people reached by the coalition's chaotic network of phone trees, mailings and church chats is a well-kept secret. Dilley professes not to keep track. ``We have chapters here and there,'' she said. Some meet monthly; others gear up only in election seasons.
But allies and opponents agree that the coalition moves people in numbers far greater than their membership through their voters guides handed out in churches. The national office shipped out about 250,000 presidential guides, which arrived in pews this weekend.
The Rev. Francis Frangipan, pastor of the 800-member charismatic River of Life church in Cedar Rapids, uses the guides regularly. He says most of his congregants aren't donors to the coalition, but they heed its message. ``We think with the value system the coalition represents,'' he said, ``the coalition is articulating what evangelical Christianity feels.''
This year, it's not clear which Republican presidential hopeful has articulated a message that hits home with the bulk of evangelical Christians in Iowa. In past years, they had a clear favorite, because few candidates cared to kowtow to an evangelical agenda.
As the number of evangelical voters has swelled, the candidates' tunes have changed. This year, most Republicans are wooing them with promises to dismantle the U.S. Department of Education, pass laws against abortion and promote vouchers for private and religious schools. Steve Forbes, who is sticking with the flat tax and hasn't laid out his views on many social issues, is the exception.
As a result, Christian conservatives - and Iowa coalition activists - are scattered among the candidates, with heavy concentrations in the campaigns of Dole, Texas Sen. Phil Gramm and columnist Pat Buchanan. They also pop up as workers for radio talk show host Alan Keyes, who has focused his campaign on opposing abortion and is widely considered a long shot.
Dilley gave a personal endorsement to Dole, and her former field director works on Dole's staff. Two members of the coalition's board are publicly backing Gramm. But all that may signify little.
In last week's Louisiana caucuses, Gramm had the support of the state Christian Coalition leader, but he lost to Buchanan - the only other candidate on the ballot. In exit polls, half of the caucus-goers described themselves as part of the religious right.
Cece Coleman, 40, is a coalition member who is working to give Buchanan a win in Iowa. She got into politics through Robertson's campaign, and her opposition to abortion - she wants no exceptions, even for rape or incest - keeps her fired up.
She was upset at Dilley for backing Dole, a candidate she considers wishy-washy on the abortion issue, and she laments the splintering of the evangelical vote. ``It makes your heart sad, because the pro-life vote is split,'' she said. ``It has never been this way.''
But Smit, the right-to-life lobbyist who is also a coalition member, says the splintering contradicts the stereotype of Christian conservatives. ``The fact that all these people are working for all different campaigns does more to show that we think for ourselves,'' she said. ``We are not a movement of lemmings.''
The Iowa coalition's leaders take particular pride in their independent-mindedness, and that includes their relations with the national organization. ``We're not under their thumb in any form or any way,'' said Robert Schockemoehl, a board member.
Reed doesn't come to Iowa except during major elections, though Dilley logs plenty of time on the phone talking to him and the coalition's field director. She said the national organization has a separate donor list in Iowa that it does not share with the state chapter, though the national office often sends out mass mailings for her.
The national office approves voters guides produced by the state chapter for local elections, to check facts and make sure that everything is legally defensible, said Steve Scheffler, the Iowa coalition's former field director. ``They have to be termed so that it does not appear to be biased.''
But that isn't a reciprocal arrangement. This week, Dilley was orchestrating distribution of the national coalition's presidential guides in Iowa churches. She'd seen a first draft but not the final version. ``They say it looks nice,'' she said. ``Red, white and blue.''
Dilley is a master at persuading people to pick up their phones and organize pre-caucus precinct meetings, designed to get people organized around a conservative Christian agenda before they gather at a caucus Monday night.
One of them is her neighbor, Peggy Hermann, a 49-year-old mother of four who has spent the past month organizing conservatives in the suburbs of Des Moines. Hermann was a Democrat, but she switched parties after she was gaveled down at a Democratic Party meeting when she spoke up against abortion.
Hermann said she took it on herself to organize her county. ``I am taking responsibility. No one has asked me to,'' she said. ``This is really grass-roots. We start at the bottom.''
Hermann is using the coalition's handbook and lots of phone chats to persuade people to get active in the caucuses. She said many people are intimidated and don't appreciate the difference their vote can make.
She's looking for people who believe, as she does, that the nation needs to get back to Christian principles and reflect them in its laws. For starters, that means laws banning abortion and allowing public prayer in school, she said.
She has lists of people who share her political views, though she has no idea what presidential candidate they favor. But she also believes that divine inspiration will guide her to new people to bring into the coalition's fold.
``The whole secret is praying. I do a lot of it,'' she said. ``I ask God to show me who to call. ... The power of prayer organizes a precinct, too.''
LENGTH: Long : 156 lines KEYWORDS: POLITICSby CNB