Abstract
This article documents and assesses subregional variation among white southerners in presidential voting behavior and a variety of issue attitudes. I demonstrate that whites in the South remain consistently distinct from those in the rest of the nation, but heterogeneously so: whites in the Deep South are generally far more conservative than their Peripheral South neighbors. I also assess how the region’s disproportionate concentration of born-again Christians can confound assessments of regional and state coefficients when properly accounted for in regression models. By demonstrating the continuing distinctiveness of the white South, the significant variation present within the region, and the interrelationship of region and religion, these results have theoretical and methodological implications for the study of American politics.
In 2000 and 2004, the Democratic candidate for president received none of the South’s 153 Electoral College votes. Many liberals in turn advocated that the Democratic Party “whistle past Dixie” and shift its focus to friendlier territory in the West (Schaller, 2006). Yet in 2008, Barack Obama won Virginia, North Carolina, and Florida, suggesting Democrats might have a chance in the region after all. However, this improved showing was not consistent across the South. Many of the few areas where Obama performed worse than John Kerry among white voters were in the Deep South. In some states, like Alabama, his share of the white vote was barely half that of Kerry’s, with only about 1 in 10 white voters casting their ballot for Obama (Nossiter, 2008). The broader context behind all this was the polarizing presidency of George W. Bush, a former governor of the largest southern state and one of the most famous born-again Christians in American political history. 1 This confluence of factors is directly related to debates about the role of regionalism in contemporary American politics.
In this article, I offer an empirical assessment of southern white conservatism in the 21st century. In doing so, I test certain conventional theories of southern politics, as well as introduce a few new ones. Scholars have long argued for the general distinctiveness of the South (E. Black & Black, 1987, 2002; Key, 1949/2006; Kousser, 2010). Some have further argued for distinguishing between the more peripheral parts of the region and the deeper, more genuinely “southern” areas—but this line of reasoning has recently come under attack (Kousser, 2010; for the critique, see Shafer & Johnston, 2006). In this article, I test the validity of these distinctions in the 21st century using large-N datasets that allow for more fine-grained analysis than prior research. I also offer one significant new addition to the literature on the South: an initial assessment of the relationship between the disproportionate concentration of white born-again Christians in the South and the supposed distinctiveness of the region. In effect, this is an assessment of the distinction between composition—differences due to the greater concentration of certain demographic groups or religious identities in a given area—and what might very roughly be called culture—that difference which remains after compositional differences are accounted for. 2
I argue that the white South remains distinct in the 21st century, but the Deep South still especially so. As such, I push back against arguments that the South no longer merits attention in its own right, as well as arguments that subregional variation has subsided over time to the point where it can be ignored. I further argue, however, that regionalism and religion are too often intricately bound up in the South that care must be taken to distinguish between them. Properly accounting for this greater concentration lowers the estimate of the southern effect on certain culture wars issues, especially policy-specific questions about gay marriage and abortion. However, the southern effect remains generally robust elsewhere. Overall, then, I argue for a social scientific understanding of southern white heterogeneity. The South is a distinctive region that is itself internally varied in a complex, but ultimately understandable, manner; it is also a uniquely Evangelical region that is shaped by this concentration of a particular religious identification in some issue areas, but not in others.
By demonstrating the continuing significance of the South and the substantial variation within the region—and integrating the study of born-again Christian religious identification firmly into the study of southern white attitudes—these results have clear implications for studies of regionalism in American politics, as well as the role of religion in individual attitudes.
Background and Literature Review
A few explanatory notes are in order regarding the study of the South in general, the study of southern whites in particular, and the focus on religion rather than other factors impacting southern white attitudes and behavior.
First, why the South but not some other region? This article looks at the South in comparison with a general nonsouthern category, which can lend itself to easy critique: Why the South, but not the West, as the key area of interest? Why the generalized non-South as the comparison group, rather than a series of comparisons to a range of other regional categories? Why care about the difference between the Deep South and Peripheral South without similar regard to differences between New England and the Middle Atlantic? I offer three reasons: (a) despite the long history of attention to the unique role of the South in American politics, there has been increasing debate about whether this is still merited—and I argue that it is; (b) Peripheral South states like Virginia and Florida were among the top “tipping point” states in the 2012 election, according to websites like FiveThirtyEight—suggesting an increased importance of at least parts of the region to the Electoral College strategies of presidential campaigns; and (c) one article can necessarily only focus on so much, and I choose the South for the prior reasons. This justification is necessarily imperfect, but I argue the choice is merited.
Second, why white southerners rather than the South as a whole? I argue the focus on whites is justified for a number of reasons. Rather than explaining variation in all of the South, I am particularly interested in white conservatism. This grounds the analysis in a subject that can be explored in an article-length manner. Doing analytic justice to the varied types of distinctiveness of white and black southern attitudes would require a lengthier manuscript. However, there are also more substantive reasons. Southern whites are an increasingly core part of the Republican Party, and as a diversifying electorate provides electoral benefits for Democrats, the political attitudes of southern whites will be the subject of renewed debate and interest. As such, a careful, empirical assessment of where southern white distinctiveness stands in the 21st century is warranted.
Finally, why a focus on religion rather than other factors affecting southern distinctiveness? In particular, there is a strong literature on the relationship between white attitudes and racial context. Key’s (1949/2006) racial threat hypothesis has been analyzed in great depth, and recent scholarship has affirmed the centrality of race in southern political development. Valentino and Sears (2005), for example, demonstrate the existence of a strong relationship between white racial conservatism and partisan identification in the region. Focusing on the white southern shift to the Republican Party, Hood, Kidd, and Morris (2012) point to increases in black voter mobilization—rather than population size, per se—as the key factor in pushing southern whites toward the Republican Party. They caution that scholars ignoring racial dynamics “do so at their own risk” (Hood, Kidd, & Morris, 2012, p. 13).
I want to be clear that I agree with this scholarship on the importance of race in southern politics. I focus on religion instead for a couple of reasons. The recent scholarship just noted has done an exemplary job of demonstrating the significance of race in shaping white southern attitudes. I want to make a complementary, rather than critical, point about the role of religion. I argue scholars of religion and politics have not properly assessed the degree to which the South’s disproportionate concentration of white Evangelicals impacts assessments of regional distinctiveness. 3 By bringing a new dataset to bear on the relationship between white southern distinctiveness and religion, my goal is to rigorously assess precisely this relationship, as well as offer an assessment of the degree to which the Deep/Peripheral divide remains important.
The South has long been a distinctive region in American politics. Key described in great detail a one-party “solid South” defined to a large degree by racial politics, especially the maintenance of Jim Crow (1949/2006). Since then, a two-party South has emerged—see Lamis (1988) for a book-length treatment—with the white South increasingly going Republican. E. Black and Black (2002) distinguish between two “great white switches,” the first—in presidential voting habits of southern whites—accompanying Barry Goldwater’s Deep South victories in 1964, with the second—in partisan identification of southern whites—coming in the middle of Ronald Reagan’s presidency (p. 4). The Democratic Party’s southern constituency has changed dramatically. “A party originally created by racist southern white men to enhance and maintain their perceived interests has now become the political home of African Americans, liberal and moderate whites, and Hispanics,” as Merle Black (2004) puts it (p. 1001). Fitting with Abramowitz and Saunders’s (1998) description of the increasing fit between ideology and partisanship in the electorate, white conservatives in the South became Republicans. Naturally enough, by 2000 the number of southern whites in the American National Election Studies (ANES) survey who considered themselves Republicans finally edged past the 50% mark, while only one in three considered themselves Democrats (Knuckey, 2006).
Contemporary political scientists are split on whether the South remains meaningfully different from the rest of the United States, and if so how it does. First, given the significant amount of political change in the postwar South, the degree to which the South as a whole remains distinct is debated. Bartels (2000) suggests there no longer exists regional variation in the relationship between partisanship and presidential vote choice. However, Hillygus and Shields (2008) find that despite recent arguments that the South is losing its historical distinctiveness, in the 2000 election, “the voting calculus of Southern voters differs from the rest of the electorate” (p. 507). They argue that not only are southerners more conservative, but this conservatism plays a larger role in individual-level decision making (Hillygus & Shields, 2008). Similarly, scholars of southern politics continue to make a compelling case that southern attitudes still differ in a way that matters for studies of American politics more generally (Breaux & Shaffer, 2012; Cotter, Shaffer, & Breaux, 2006).
Hillygus and Shields—like much of the literature in American politics—treat the South as one homogeneous region, a second issue I address. This decision is generally made without explicit theoretical rationale. A notable exception is Shafer and Johnston (2006), who directly attack the idea of dividing the South into subregions. They argue the Peripheral South’s growth has led to it becoming “the South” more generally, while the Deep South’s demographic decline has left it “a residual” (Shafer & Johnston, 2006, p. 133). In his review of the southern politics subfield, however, Kousser (2010) rejects this critique in strong terms, declaring it “unwarranted” (p. 377). A second goal of this article is to assess precisely the utility of such subregional distinction in contemporary attitudes and behavior.
I also examine the role of religious identification in shaping these regional distinctions. While much of the academic literature on religion and American politics falls into the “culture war” debate (Fiorina, Abrams, & Pope, 2006; Hunter, 1991; McConkey, 2001)—which in political science has tended to relate to debates about partisan polarization and red states versus blue states (Abramowitz & Saunders, 2008; Fiorina, Abrams, & Pope, 2008)—recent work in sociology provides a more in-depth look at the effects of specific religious beliefs. Lewis and Huyser de Bernardo (2010), for instance, study Evangelicals and argue denominational tradition is a better predictor of political attitudes while self-identification as an Evangelical is a better predictor of partisanship. Froese, Bader, and Smith (2008) use General Social Survey (GSS) data to argue that belief in a punitive God leads to a tension between religious faith and support for civil liberties. Such beliefs relate to the literature on authoritarianism (e.g., Altemeyer, 1996), which political scientists have recently started to analyze as part of the debate about polarization in American public opinion (Hetherington & Weiler, 2009).
Political scientists have also started to more seriously consider the role of religious identification. Barker, Hurwitz, and Nelson (2008) argue that as a belief in biblical authority increases, so too does the salience of foreign policy issues relative to domestic ones. Other work has challenged conventional media narratives about the political ramifications of the Christian Right. Claassen and Povtak (2010), for example, use ANES data to demonstrate that increased voter turnout of Evangelicals in 2004 was not a function of campaign dynamics—the conventional story suggests the Bush reelection team was especially adept at turning out these voters—but rather was simply the latest in a long-term trend driven by demographic change among Evangelicals.
Born-again Christians believe that eternal salvation requires a “born-again” conversion experience. Until the mid-1970s, most Americans who did not themselves identify as born-again had never heard of the term. Jimmy Carter’s 1976 campaign for president brought the term to mainstream discourse for the first time. During the campaign, Carter, a Baptist, casually mentioned to New York Times chief religion reporter Kenneth Briggs that he was a born-again Christian. Many in the mainstream news media were unfamiliar with the term; indeed, “[n]o one was sure that a presidential candidate should be talking about such things as private ‘born-again’ experiences and conversions.” Yet the term “could hardly have been more familiar or less controversial to evangelical Christians” (Martin, 1996, p. 149). While the Democratic Carter can be credited with bringing white Evangelicals into the political mainstream, the group trended strongly Republican starting with Ronald Reagan. Evangelicalism and southern politics have become increasingly intertwined since then. The Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) came to play an increasingly strong role in southern politics, starting particularly in 1979 when theologically and politically conservative forces began to take control of the institution. This coincided with increasing influence of the SBC in the southern Republican Party (Smith, 1997). 4
Such religious identification is not randomly distributed across the country. Figure 1 plots the percentage of whites in each state that identify as born-again (in 2004). While 40% of white Americans overall call themselves born-again Christians, this mean value obscures the vast range. Connecticut and Mississippi represent the two extremes, with only 12% of Connecticut whites identifying as born-again Christians, compared with 78% in Mississippi. The graph also demonstrates clear regional clustering. Five of the 10 least born-again states are in New England and 4 others are in northern states like New York and New Jersey (heavily Mormon Utah is fifth). By contrast, 7 of the 10 most born-again states are in the South, with the other 3 being the southern border states of Oklahoma, Kentucky, and West Virginia. The top three spots are clustered in the Deep South in particular—Mississippi, South Carolina, and Alabama—with the more conservative Peripheral South states—Arkansas and Tennessee—coming in fourth and fifth. In general, then, it is unlikely that a randomly selected white person in New England is a born-again Christian, while it is unlikely a randomly selected white person in the Deep South is not a born-again Christian. Attention to the disproportionate concentration of born-again Christians in the southern states links the work of political scientists with sociologists of religion, a combination that might prove useful to the theoretical concerns of both disciplines.
Each point represents the proportion of the white population in the 48 continental states plus District of Columbia self-identifying as born-again Christian in 2004.
Hypotheses
The last section hinted at potential inquiries, but here I state them as testable hypotheses:
Southern political history provides ample reasons to suspect the region might still be quite unique in American politics (E. Black & Black, 1987, 2002; Hillygus & Shields, 2008; Key, 1949/2006; Kousser, 2010), yet some have suggested economic development, migration from outside the region, and other factors have led to a decline of southern distinctiveness (Shafer & Johnston, 2006). H1 assesses the relevance of the region considered as a whole.
The Deep South is poorer, more racially heterogeneous, and less economically developed than the Peripheral South. There are reasons to believe subregional variation might exist, but scholars disagree over whether it remains meaningful (Kousser, 2010) or not (Shafer & Johnston, 2006). H2 addresses this disagreement.
The division between Deep and Peripheral South states is standard in the study of the region, yet it is generally asserted as inductively plausible (E. Black & Black, 1987; Key, 1949/2006) rather than properly tested. H3 looks at the actual empirical patterns to assess whether the individual Deep South states are generally more conservative than the individual Peripheral South states. State-level analysis of this sort is relatively uncommon, but can be useful to scholars interested in the constitutive parts of regions (for a relatively recent example of state-level analysis, see Brace, Sims-Butler, Arceneaux, & Johnson, 2002).
If the effect is homogeneous, then exploring its influence on southern distinctiveness is a straightforward affair. If, however, it varies by state, then exploring the confluence of region and religion requires a more interactive approach.
Identification as a born-again Christian is not widely used as a standard demographic control. H5 assesses the implications of this methodological neglect.
Definitions, Data, and Methods
Before testing these hypotheses, I first address a few relevant methodological issues.
Definitions
The first question in the study of the South in American politics is how to define the region. I define the South as the following 11 states: Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, and Virginia. This is the classic definition used by Key (1949/2006) and the one most widely used in southern politics scholarship today (e.g., Hillygus & Shields, 2008; Hood et al., 2012; Mickey, 2008). I use it for historical and practical reasons. Historically, these are the 11 states of the former Confederacy, making them a logical grouping. Practically, using the standard definition of the region allows this article to more easily build on the work of previous scholars, particularly those who have divided these 11 states into their Deep South and Peripheral South subregions. 5
To explore subregional variation, I distinguish between the Deep South (Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, and South Carolina) and the Peripheral South (Arkansas, Florida, North Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, and Virginia). This is the traditional breakdown in the southern politics literature (E. Black & Black, 1987; Key, 1949/2006). Beyond its intellectual lineage, the breakdown represents significant historical differences. The Deep South states have much larger black populations than the relatively whiter Peripheral South, although both regions are well above the national average. Key (1949/2006) noted the Peripheral South states were far more accepting of the 1944 Smith v. Allwright case outlawing the white primary. The five Deep South states were Barry Goldwater’s only victories in his 1964 presidential campaign other than his home state of Arizona. In general, the Peripheral South states have long been more influenced by the rest of the nation than the Deep South.
I define born-again Christian status as solely a matter of self-identification. If a respondent answers yes to the question, “Do you consider yourself an evangelical or born-again Christian?” then I assume they are. This is similar to the conception of partisanship described by Green, Palmquist, and Schickler (2002) in that it is grounded in emotional attachment (indeed, they even compare their definition of partisanship with religion). Similarly, Lewis and Huyser de Bernardo (2010) argue that “being an evangelical may be a foundational social-psychological identity that, similar to party identity, influences them beyond their denominational affiliation” (p. 124). This identity is at least as strong—and perhaps stronger—than partisan identification.
Data
I use the 2004 and 2008 National Annenberg Election Survey (NAES) data. 6 The 2004 study consists of a national rolling cross section of 81,422 interviews conducted between October 2003 and November 2004; the 2008 study consists of 57,967 interviews conducted between December 2007 and November 2008. The sampling procedure is random digit dialing. In combination, these two aspects of the data—Random Digit Dialing (RDD) and large sample size—mean the data are generally representative at the state level, unlike, for example, the ANES cluster sample. As my interest is in state-level variation, this is a significant strength. Although the 2008 data are more timely, I also utilize the 2004 data for two reasons: first, certain questions of substantive interests were not asked in 2008; and second, a much smaller percentage of the 2008 sample was asked the born-again Christian identification question, making analysis of H4 and H5 more difficult at smaller subnational levels.
I analyze the following dependent variables of interest to scholars of public opinion and political behavior: in 2004, vote choice (1 = Bush, 0 = Kerry), group affect measures of Muslims, gay organizations, and feminist organizations (1-10 scale, where 1 = very favorable and 10 = very unfavorable), support for an antigay marriage constitutional amendment (1 = support, 0 = oppose or neutral), support for an abortion ban (1 = support, 0 = oppose or neutral), whether Iraq was worth it (1 = yes, 0 = no), and support for “more free trade agreements like North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA)” (1 = favor, 0 = oppose or neutral); in 2008, vote choice (1 = McCain, 0 = Obama), preferences for abortion availability (1 = no restrictions, 2 = available but with more limits, 3 = not available except for rape, incest, or health reasons, 4 = never available), support for gay marriage or civil unions (1 = full marriage rights, 2 = civil unions or domestic partnerships, 3 = no legal recognition), whether Iraq was worth it (1 = yes, 0 = no), and support for “more free trade agreements like NAFTA” (1 = favor, 0 = oppose or neutral). Variables are coded so that conservative responses are higher. 7
Dependent variables were selected with certain criteria in mind. I include vote choice because voter behavior is itself a special concern for political scientists. I look at issues of interest to social conservatives, as these might be especially salient in the region. I also give preference to questions asked in both years. I finally try to utilize questions that were asked to as many respondents as possible. Many questions of interest were only asked for a limited time period, which does not leave a sufficiently large N for state-level analysis. While I would prefer to analyze a more general economic question, for example, the free trade question was asked for a much longer period than similar questions about the minimum wage or labor organizing (which do not come with a sufficient N for state-level analysis).
Methods
My main explanatory variables of interest for H1 to H3 are region- and state-level dummy variables. I estimate three models for each dependent variable with these terms specified in slightly different ways so as to provide assessments of my hypotheses: a single-South dummy variable (Model 1); Deep South and Peripheral South dummy variables (Model 2); and dummy variables for each of the 11 southern states (Model 3). For Models 1 to 3, the base category is the non-South. To better isolate regional and state effects, I control for partisanship (dummy variables for Republicans and Democrats, where independents are the base category), ideology (a 5-point scale from very liberal to very conservative), age, gender (dummy variable for female), household income, and education (dummy variables for high school or less and college degree, where some college is the base category). I limit my analysis to whites because of my theoretical objectives. Doing so narrows the scope of the article—I am analyzing white Americans, not Americans as a whole—but this allows me to hold race constant to better isolate the independent effects of region and religion.
A significant southern dummy variable in Model 1 supports H1. A comparison of Models 1 and 2 tests H2 that the Deep South is significantly different from the Peripheral South. This subregional distinctiveness hypothesis is supported when the Deep South term is larger than the Peripheral South and general South terms. I also conduct a test of the difference between the Deep and Peripheral South terms. If they are significantly different, this provides statistical confirmation of subregional distinctiveness. I also use Akaike’s Information Criterion (AIC) to assess model fit. The AIC formula penalizes the inclusion of additional parameters, so if the inclusion of two regional terms instead of one nonetheless produces a lower value, the subregional model can be considered a better fit. A comparison of Models 2 and 3 assesses H3, whether the Deep versus Peripheral division arbitrarily obscures the actual state-level variation by looking at effects for each individual state.
I treat the 10-category group affect measures as continuous variables and estimate these models using ordinary least squares (OLS) regression (this analysis is also replicated using ordered probit models, which are presented in Table 8 of the online appendix [http://apr.sagepub.com/supplemental]). Binary dependent variables are estimated using logistic regression. For the gay marriage and abortion questions in 2008, I allow for the qualitative nature of the ordered categories by using ordered probit models. Tables 1 to 4 report the results of the regional and subregional models. The state-level models are presented in the online appendix (Tables 5-7). To provide more substantive meanings when discussing the results, I also calculate marginal effects for the logit models. Each marginal effect is the change in probability associated with that variable when all other explanatory variables are held constant. 8 The variables of theoretical interest are dummy variables: The marginal effect is the discrete change from 0 to 1, making substantive interpretation rather straightforward. I calculate changes in probabilities for shifts to theoretically interesting categories for the ordered probit models.
Logit Models: Presidential Vote Choice, Gay Marriage, Abortion.
Note. Standard errors in parentheses. AIC = Akaike’s Information Criterion.
p < .05. **p < .01. ***p < .001.
Logit Models: Iraq, Free Trade.
Note. Standard errors in parentheses. AIC = Akaike’s Information Criterion.
p < .05. **p < .01. ***p < .001.
OLS Models: Group Affect Measures (2004).
Note. Standard errors in parentheses. OLS = ordinary least squares; AIC = Akaike’s Information Criterion.
p < .05. **p < .01. ***p < .001.
Ordered Probit Models: Gay Marriage, Abortion (2008).
Note. Standard errors in parentheses. AIC = Akaike’s Information Criterion.
p < .05. **p < .01. ***p < .001.
To assess H4, whether the effect of being a born-again Christian varies by state or is homogeneous nationally, I estimate multilevel models where the dependent variables used in the previous section (2004 data only because of sample size issues) are modeled as a function of born-again status and the intercepts and slopes are allowed to vary by state. The same controls are used as before. Multilevel models can be understood as “extensions of regression in which data are structured in groups and coefficients can vary by group” (Gelman & Hill, 2007, p. 237). The group here is state, which allows for estimates in which the effect of born-again identification is allowed to have differential effects in each of the states. The 95% confidence intervals are generated by simulating the model 1,000 times and cutting off 2.5% at each end of the distribution (Gelman & Hill, 2007).
For H5, I compare results from the 2004 models estimated with and without a born-again Christian control variable. H5 is supported if the regional coefficients are substantively different when the born-again Christian term is included—in other words, if part of regional distinctiveness is simply driven by the region’s greater share of a particular demographic characteristic: born-again Christian self-identification. However, if controlling for this does not meaningfully change the regional terms, then claims of regional distinctiveness are robust even controlling for differential levels of religious identification.
Results
I present the results in the order of the stated hypotheses.
H1: Do South/Non-South Differences Still Exist?
Assessment: Yes
The standard southern dummy variable is significant in every single area, except for two: the feminist organizations group affect measure in 2004 and the free trade deals question in 2008. Overall, H1 receives very substantial support: Southern whites are very much still different from their counterparts elsewhere in the nation. I discuss the precise estimates in the next subsection, as they are more theoretically useful in comparison with the coefficients obtained for Deep and Peripheral South variables.
H2: Is the Deep South Different From the Peripheral South?
Assessment: Yes
In 2008, white southerners were 14% more likely to vote for McCain over Obama overall, but there is substantial variation. Those in the Deep South were 25% more likely to support McCain, compared with only 9% for Peripheral South residents, a marginal effect almost three times the size. In 2004, white southerners were 10% more likely to support Bush over Kerry, but when the South is divided into its Deep and Peripheral subregions the coefficients again diverge. Being from the Deep South is associated with a 16% increase in the probability of voting for Bush, while being from the Peripheral South is associated with an 8% increase. Both terms are statistically significant and substantively meaningful, but the Deep South term is double the size of the Peripheral South term, and is 6 percentage points higher than the effect estimated in a single-South model. These results clearly affirm the analytical value of distinguishing between the Deep and Peripheral South in studies of presidential voting behavior. 9
For social issues, this trend continues for issues related to gay rights and assessments of Muslims, but interestingly a bit less so for feminist issues. For the gay marriage question in 2008, southerners overall were 10% more likely to move from Category 2 to 3 (from support for civil unions, a “moderate” stance, to no support for any legal recognition of gay and lesbian relationships). In the Deep South, the number is 15%, compared with 8% in the Peripheral South. For the abortion question, the South is statistically but not especially substantively more conservative. Stronger resistance to abortion access emerges in the Deep South, but the difference is not huge. Turning to 2004, southerners overall were 4% more likely to support a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage, while the probabilities are 7% in the Deep South and 3% in the Peripheral South—just over twice the size. For the abortion ban question that year, being from the South is associated with just a 1% increase in the probability of supporting a ban, while in Model 2 being from the Deep South is associated with a 5% increase, whereas the Peripheral South effect is not statistically significant. The 2004 survey also includes group affect questions. Significant subregional variation exists in assessments of Muslims. The South coefficient is significant in Model 1, but in Model 2 the Deep South coefficient is notably larger. whites in the Deep South are more negatively disposed toward Muslims than whites in the Peripheral South. A similar pattern emerges for assessments of gay organizations. The South coefficient in Model 1 is significant, but the Deep South term in Model 2 is larger. 10 However, the patterns abruptly stop for assessments of feminist groups. None of the regional terms are significant in either model specification.
Because research on regional variation in foreign policy attitudes is “limited and somewhat dated” (Cotter et al., 2006, p. 189; see Hero, 1965, for an older analysis), I next consider attitudes toward the Iraq war. There is a literature suggesting southerners possess a “culture of honor” (Nisbett & Cohen, 1996), which might lead to more militaristic foreign policy preferences. Wyatt-Brown (2005) examines this in crises ranging from the Civil War to the war in Iraq, arguing that the war in Iraq was actually justified by a southern president using religious themes, rather than themes related to national honor. Attention to survey evidence of white southern foreign policy attitudes can elucidate such scholarship from a different vantage point.
White southerners were 7% more likely to say Iraq was worth it in 2008, but the Deep South marginal effect is 11% compared with 6% in the Peripheral South. In 2004, the marginal effect of being from the South is a 6% increase in the probability of thinking the war was worth it, but the marginal effect of being from the Deep South is a 10% increase in probability, while the marginal effect in the Peripheral South is only 4%. The regional trends seem to be robust over time for the Iraq question, not just a function of the electoral climate. 11
I finally look at attitudes toward free trade, an economic issue supported by conservatives generally but often opposed by those with lower levels of education, something that could plausibly create an ideological tension among southerners. The South also has a complex history with trade policy. In Key’s (1949/2006) time period, the South was “the area with the most intense attachment to free trade,” at least among congressmen (p. 353). There is no regional or subregional southern distinctiveness for the free trade question in 2008. The 2004 results are not much stronger. In Model 1, being from the South is associated with a statistically significant but substantively small 1% decrease in the probability of supporting more free trade deals. In Model 2, the results suggest this is driven by the Deep South: Its marginal effect is a 2% decrease, while the Peripheral South term is not statistically significant. However, the AIC value is actually higher in Model 2 and a test of the difference between the subregional terms is not statistically significant. H1 and H2 are not supported when the dependent variable is preferences for more free trade deals.
H3: Do State-by-State Patterns Match Subregional Division?
Assessment: Yes, with a few interesting exceptions
The state dummy variables largely act according to the Deep/Peripheral division, providing general support for H3 overall. Space concerns prevent going through each model in detail, but I discuss a few interesting results.
The largest state effects for 2008 presidential vote choice are in the Deep South, with the estimate for Louisiana at an especially large 37%. The smallest marginal effects are for North Carolina, at 10%, and Florida and Virginia, where there is not a statistically significant difference from the rest of the nation. This provides face validity, as these were the three southern states Barack Obama won in 2008, and North Carolina was the closest.
The state-level effects for the abortion questions are complex. For the question in 2008, the strongest opposition is present in Mississippi and Louisiana. Being from Florida, interestingly, is associated with a more liberal attitude. The state-level variation for the abortion question in 2004 is especially revealing. There is a positive increase in probability of supporting a ban in Alabama, Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, and Tennessee; a decrease in probability in Florida and Virginia; and no effect for Georgia, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Texas. For the abortion variable, then, the Deep/Peripheral breakdown does not quite capture the nuances. The Peripheral South coefficient is effectively pulled down by negative effects in Florida and Virginia and the lack of any significant effect in Texas, its largest state. By contrast, whites in Tennessee and Arkansas are closer to their Deep South neighbors. For the feminist organizations group affect measure, only the state of Mississippi stands out in the analysis as being uniquely antifeminist.
None of the Peripheral South states are statistically significant in themselves in the models analyzing the 2004 Iraq question, with one exception. It is the sizable effect in Texas alone that makes the Peripheral South term significant in Model 2. None of the other Peripheral South states are themselves individually distinguishable from the nonsouthern base category, meaning in 2004 there wasn’t so much a Peripheral South effect as a Texas one. North Carolina joins Texas in the 2008 dataset, but overall the biggest effects are throughout the Deep South and Texas. The association of the Iraq war with Bush, the former Texas governor, probably plays some role in this.
There is some interesting complexity in the free trade question that further nuances the results from the first two models. Rather than grouping together regionally, the estimated state coefficients vary widely in statistical significance and in sign. In the 2004 data, especially clear patterns emerge: In Alabama, Mississippi, North Carolina, and Tennessee, whites are less likely to support free trade deals than whites in the non-South. However, in Florida, Georgia, and Texas, whites are slightly more likely to support more free trade deals than nonsoutherners. Finally, the effect in Arkansas, Louisiana, South Carolina, and Virginia is not statistically significant. There is, in other words, not a consistently conservative direction in the effect of being from a southern state on free trade attitudes, but rather a mix of no effect, a conservative effect, and what might be labeled a populist effect. In the 2008 data, North Carolina, Mississippi, and Tennessee remain in the more populist, antifree trade camp, but point estimates for the other southern states are not statistically significant. 12
H4: Is Born-Again Christian Identification Consistent Nationally?
Assessment: Yes, with minor exceptions
Overall, H4 is very strongly supported. For five of the eight dependent variables in 2004—vote choice, the gay organizations group affect measure, gay marriage, Iraq, and free trade—there is a homogeneous effect that is constant across the states. 13 There is typically a significant effect of being a born-again Christian, but the confidence intervals overlap. White born-again Christians are more likely to vote for the Republican presidential nominee, support the war in Iraq, and oppose gay rights—and less likely to support free trade deals—but not in a way that varies with region. 14
The three remaining dependent variables present a small amount of variation. Graphs of the effect on these variables are presented in Figures 4 to 6 of the online appendix, with the point estimates for the 11 southern states presented first, followed by the rest of the nation in alphabetical order. The plotted coefficients represent the impact of born-again identification in each state, while the horizontal lines are 95% confidence intervals. There is a heterogeneous effect of born-again Christianity that is stronger in the South in the Muslims group affect model. Born-again Christian self-identification has a bigger impact on whites in states like Alabama, Mississippi, South Carolina, and Tennessee than it does in California, New York, Vermont, and Wisconsin, although in most states “in the middle” the effect is statistically indistinguishable. There is also some state-level variation for the feminist groups and abortion ban models, but with no coherent regional or ideological pattern. In the feminist groups model, born-again Christian identification has a stronger effect in West Virginia than Vermont, but the effect is also bigger than Vermont in New York and New Jersey. What could possibly distinguish these 3 disparate states from Vermont is unclear. However, it is again the case that the effect in most of the states is statistically similar. The effect in the abortion ban model is actually mostly homogeneous, but the point estimate in Arizona is statistically distinguishable from smaller point estimates in Arkansas and Louisiana. Yet this is an exception from the general lack of differentiation.
Overall, with a small number of exceptions, H4 is supported. The effect of born-again Christian identification on white attitudes is largely consistent regardless of region.
H5: Does the Concentration of Born-Again Christians in the South Confound the Regional Effect?
Assessment: For social issues, yes
However, the impact is not substantial across other issue areas.
The strongest support for H5 is generally in social issues—especially on the policy questions related to abortion and gay marriage—and changes are most noticeable at the state level. There is also some effect in the vote choice model, again especially at the state level. Other issue areas are generally more robust, suggesting the disproportionate concentration of born-again Christians in the South is not substantially altering the southern effect in those issues overall.
I use graphs to compare the point estimates in each of the model specifications (Kastellec & Leoni, 2007). Figures 2 to 3 plot the changes in the OLS and logit estimates of the regional (Models 1 and 2) and state (Model 3) coefficients with the addition of the born-again control variable. The vertical lines represent 95% confidence intervals, allowing for some assessment of whether the differences are statistically meaningful. The black dots are the coefficients from the previous section; the white dots are the new coefficients. With the born-again Christian term included, the statistical patterns in the South and Deep/Peripheral models remain consistent for four of the eight dependent variables. For vote choice, Iraq, and the Muslims and gay organizations group affect measures, the Deep South still has the largest coefficient, the AIC is still lower in Model 2, and a test of the difference between the subregional terms remains statistically significant. For feminist organizations, none of these hold—the same as in the previous section. Yet there are significant changes of the substantive interpretations at many points. Interesting regional changes are present in the free trade models (the Deep South term loses its slight statistical significance), the gay marriage models (a test of the difference between the Deep and Peripheral South is no longer statistically significant), and the abortion ban models (now the Peripheral South term is larger and statistically significant, while the Deep South term is not statistically significant, making it an outlier from the general pattern).
How controlling for born-again Christianity changes regional coefficients: vote choice and group affect measures.
How controlling for born-again Christianity changes regional coefficients: policy issues.
The most interesting changes occur at the state level. Whites in the 10 southern states other than Florida were previously estimated to be more likely to vote for Bush or approve of his job performance than whites outside the region, but when a born-again Christian variable is included in the model, the effects in Arkansas, North Carolina, Tennessee, and Virginia become statistically insignificant as well. The Peripheral South term remains significant because Texas remains significant. There appears to be, then, a serious confounding influence of state effects versus religion effects in many of the Peripheral South states, something missed in the subregional model. This is significant for two reasons. First, it shows the potential of the subregional terms to obscure the precise pattern of state-level variation. Second, it shows the incredible potential of a single additional control variable—born-again Christian self-identification—to substantially alter the results.
In the Iraq models, the coefficient on Louisiana loses its statistical significance, leaving only Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, and Texas in the significant column. While the non-Texas Peripheral South states were originally statistically insignificant and remain so, the (insignificant) point estimates get smaller—in some cases negative—and this leads to the Peripheral South term in Model 2 becoming statistically insignificant. The effect in Texas alone can no longer drive the Peripheral South term to significance at the subregional level. For the trade variable, the Alabama and Florida coefficients lose their significance, while South Carolina moves from insignificant to negative and significant, joining the populist category along with Mississippi, North Carolina, and Tennessee. Now only being from Georgia and Texas is associated with a more pro-free trade position.
Even more substantial changes of sign and interpretation occur in the state-level models for social issues. Due to space constraints, this analysis is placed in the online appendix.
Conclusion
This article demonstrates the continuing significance of the South for studies of white public opinion and voting behavior, the utility of subregional divisions within the South, and the complicated role of born-again Christian identification in this disproportionately Evangelical region. To summarize the results, the support for H1 to H5 is as follows: The general southern distinctiveness hypothesis, H1, is strongly supported, as is the subregional variation hypothesis, H2. The state-by-state hypothesis, H3, is likewise supported overall, although there are a few interesting exceptions. The born-again homogeneity hypothesis, H4, is generally supported. The born-again regional concentration hypothesis, H5, is supported for social issues, but the impact of the additional control is smaller for most other issue areas.
These results have numerous implications for the broader study of American politics. One implication is that the common inclusion of a South/non-South dummy variable is effectively a weighted average of extremely significant Deep South variation watered down by the far less distinct Peripheral South. One way of framing this is that if by “the South” analysts mean traditional southern areas like Mississippi or Alabama rather than, for instance, the northern Virginia suburbs of District of Columbia or the retirement communities of Florida, a South dummy variable blends the very southern respondents of Biloxi with the perhaps southern-in-name-only respondents of Arlington, downplaying the sizable differences in comparing the Deep South with the rest of the nation. The Deep/Peripheral South division is not perfect, but it is much better than a single-South term when datasets allow for it. Arguments that southern distinctiveness is irrelevant, or that meaningful variation no longer exists within the South, are misguided. It is true that many parts of the Peripheral South are becoming less “southern” and more national in their political and economic outlooks. Yet it is likewise true that this is generally not happening in the Deep South. The former has profound implications for electoral politics, while the latter is of substantial theoretical interest to scholars of public opinion and identity.
Second, this article also suggests political scientists should think more about born-again Christianity. Those interested in the South should ask whether they are more interested in a bivariate or multivariate definition of what constitutes distinctiveness. In other words, is the question whether the South is different overall, or rather whether it is different controlling for its greater concentration of particular demographic characteristics, like born-again self-identification? This article remains agnostic on this question, but the results suggest it requires consideration. Beyond this, considering the link between religious identification and other issues might also prove enlightening to American politics scholars more generally.
More broadly, this analysis can serve as an empirical middle ground between two seemingly contradictory phenomena: the Democrats’ southern struggles in 2004 and the strong showing of Barack Obama in many of the Peripheral South states in 2008. The Democratic Party nominee for president will not be winning the Electoral College votes of Mississippi or Alabama anytime soon. But what Schaller (2006) and many journalistic accounts missed—but the Obama campaign did not—is the diversity of the South. Even if the Democrats are unlikely to start winning the Electoral College votes of the Deep South, the party is already winning them in the Peripheral South. Whether this continues to occur will be decided by an array of variables beyond the scope of this paragraph. But the differentiation of the Peripheral South from the Deep South provides an electoral opportunity for the Democratic Party that many overlooked.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
I thank Robert Erikson, Jeffrey Lax, Justin Phillips, Robert Shapiro, and the anonymous reviewers for helpful comments.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.