Recently, Barton Swaim’s “Christianity Isn’t Dead in the West,” (Wall Street Journal, Feb. 10, 2026, p. A13) notes the sea change since 2000, which is a comparison worth making, say, to 1975. He sees 9/11 as the hinge event, revealing “The world’s least Christianized societies are also the least open and tolerant—in short, the least liberal.”
A series reviewing a century of attempts for religion to impact politics in America
Along the way, we ask: Where mistakes were made that we do not wish to repeat?
5. The 1970s: Retreat and Roe
Faced with muddled humiliation in Vietnam, compared to the earlier generation’s stunning conquest in Europe, American optimism retreated in the 1970s. Racial relations had not been totally cured—although far more progress in the South had occurred despite all the bad press—and political assassinations were still producing symptoms of illness.
Woodstock exemplified the cultural dominance of rock-and-roll ethics, and all cultural heroes began to look alike with long hair, beards, glazed eyes, and the flashed peace sign as Virtue Signaling 1.0. Any kind of authority, especially traditional Christian authority was at low ebb. Universities roundly critiqued traditional norms, and the first of several generations educated in those labs of liberalism would transgress nearly every customary boundary.
What was the church to do? And how could it recover any political theology?
Sadly, most churches went along with culture. Except for traditionalist Roman Catholics, hardly anyone protested the right to abortion, easily codified by the 1973 Roe. V. Wade decision. Flight, not fight, was the order of the day. Even the staunchly conservative Southern Baptists were not major resisters to this judicial decision at first. However, a decade later, pro-life squadrons were awakened to the battle.
Nevertheless, the facile accommodation to Roe in 1973 exemplified the cultural and political retreat of Protestantism since 1945. The feminist movement also convinced most denominations to ordain women to the clergy, with Presbyterians leading the way in that concession first in 1964. The “war on poverty” became a part of a centralized social net, eventually mimicking aspects of collectivist socialism. The Consultation on Church Union sought to unite all denominations into a single national entity, convincing some dispensationalists that the one-world government had, indeed, taken over America.
Watergate further diminished the hopes of conservative policy. In fact, at best President Nixon could battle the forces of liberalism to a draw, while often losing. Still, evangelicals were on the rise as the mainline began its tumultuous tumble. Southern Baptists were growing astronomically, conservative-leaning parachurch groups were thriving on campuses, the Jesus Movement witnessed many sincere conversions, with hippies grabbing guitars to sing praise music as if Woodstock might be replicated in every sanctuary.
High profile drug overdoses, a rising divorce rate that was destabilizing the family, and other forms of cultural rebellion made the nuclear family appear to have its days numbered. A trained psychiatrist, Dr. James Dobson, stood up against the tides of innovative ethical ideas and formed Focus on the Family. His writings, radio advice shows, and conferences reminded many that the family was quite important. Jerry Falwell began his Liberty University in Lynchburg, Virginia, while another group gathered to defend Inerrancy. Slowly but surely, conservatives were returning to the public squares.
Most noticeably, the Southern Baptist Convention experienced a rapid turnaround by electing conservative Presidents, such as Adrian Rogers (Memphis), Nelson Price (Marietta), and Charles Stanley (Atlanta) in quick order. At the same time, the SBC was growing dramatically. Also growing were charismatic churches and mega churches. The campus movements often infused new cells into aging churches or started new ones.
Subscribe to Free “Top 10 Stories” Email
Get the top 10 stories from The Aquila Report in your inbox every Tuesday morning.

