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Socialism is better than
capitalism. So say 20 percent of Americans, and another 27 percent say
they can't say which is better, according to an April 9 Rasmussen poll.

There's hope.

When
you consider that virtually no newspaper, broadcaster, well-funded
think tank, teacher, or anybody's boss or commander ever said something
nice about socialism, it's remarkable that only 53 percent of us still
favor rule by the moneyed class. Perhaps folks are learning how
capitalism sacrifices happiness for individual gain.

The instances of folly and criminality bearing the label "made in Washington" may not rank up there with the Armenian genocide, the Bolshevik Revolution, the appeasement of Adolf Hitler, or the Holocaust, but they sure don't qualify as small change. To give them their due is necessarily to render the standard account of the American Century untenable.

Here are several examples, each one familiar, even if its implications for the problems we face today are studiously ignored:

Cuba. In 1898, the United States went to war with Spain for the proclaimed purpose of liberating the so-called Pearl of the Antilles. When that brief war ended, Washington reneged on its promise. If there actually has been an American Century, it begins here, with the U.S. government breaking a solemn commitment, while baldly insisting otherwise. By converting Cuba into a protectorate, the United States set in motion a long train of events leading eventually to the rise of Fidel Castro, the Bay of Pigs, Operation Mongoose, the Cuban Missile Crisis, and even today's Guantánamo Bay prison camp. The line connecting these various developments may not be a straight one, given the many twists and turns along the way, but the dots do connect.

Evangelizing to secular spring breakers in Florida might sound like an enormous waste of time. Why not go somewhere where Jesus would be an easier sell? Like Islamabad? Or a Christopher Hitchens dinner party? But Daytona Beach's bacchanalian atmosphere is part of the allure for domestic missionaries -- it's what's called "battleground evangelism."

"Be warned: This is going to be 24/7 spiritual warfare," explained the Liberty Mission coordinator. "We're talking about Satan's home turf here."

The best witnessing tactic, Scott says, is beginning conversations subtly, so strangers don't grasp your intent immediately. Then, they'll be less likely to walk away. Scott's favorite technique is the "Way of the Master" evangelism program, formulated by a New Zealand-born pastor named Ray Comfort and marketed by "Growing Pains" actor and evangelical pitchman Kirk Cameron. It is based on a four-question sequence designed to demonstrate systematically to a non-believer that he or she is not, in fact, a good person -- that all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.

The four questions, Scott says, can be remembered with the mnemonic "WDJD." ("What Did Jesus Do?")

W -- "Would you consider yourself to be a good person?"

D -- "Do you think you've kept the Ten Commandments?"

J (Judgment) -- "If God judged you by the Ten Commandments, would you be innocent or guilty?"

D (Destiny) -- "If you're guilty, where do you think you will spend eternity -- Heaven or Hell?"

"This last step is where people realize they're hell-bound, and they make decisions for Christ to save themselves," Scott says.

A sophomore named Samantha raises her hand nervously and asks the question we've all been considering. "But what if they don't?"

"Good point. These people may not be ready to accept Christ, but we can plead with them to consider it, because Hell is a real place. So just ask them two or three times: Why would you NOT consider this? Why would you think it DOESN'T matter?" As Scott says this, 14 skeptical faces stare back at him.

"He's tanning. We probably shouldn't disrupt him."

After a dozen of these, Claire looks a little irritated. "You know, you shouldn't be afraid," she says. "You have Holy Spirit boldness inside you."

"Hi there," I say, trying to sound as peppy as possible. The Cornwell reader looks up from her book, eyebrows raised, and one of the iPod girls takes out her earbuds.

"I was just wondering if I could give you guys a million dollars."

When Scott was teaching us to evangelize, he gave us several gimmicky ice-breakers to use when beginning conversations. This one is a fake million-dollar bill with a message printed in tiny letters on the back that begins: "The million-dollar question: Will you go to Heaven?"

"Sure," Cornwell girl says. "I'll take one."

"But first," I say, "I have to ask you the million-dollar question."

"Shoot."

I take a deep breath. "Do you know Jesus Christ as your personal Savior?"

iPod girl's eyes bulge. "Excuse me?" She pokes her friend, who turns over onto her back, takes out her earbuds, and stares at me.

"Um ... do you guys know Jesus ... as your Savior?"

Cornwell girl says pointedly, "We're Jewish."

"I'll take that as a no?" I say. They don't laugh. Not even the faintest trace of a smile. I turn and walk away, mumbling thanks under my breath.

As I go, I hear them talking: "What a creep," one says.

False conversions are a glaring wart on the face of Christian evangelism. In the book that accompanies our Way of the Master program, I found several sobering statistics about the percentage of apparent converts who stay involved with the church in the long term, including one from Peter Wagner, a seminary professor in California who estimated that only 3 to 16 percent of the converts at Christian crusades stay involved.

The false conversion rate is profoundly depressing if you believe in this stuff. After all, if we get ten converts during this week -- an optimistic number -- and our false conversion numbers are consistent with the average, this group has spent a week's worth of twelve-hour days, thousands of dollars, and suffered massive amounts of emotional trauma for what? One more Christian? Two?

There must be an easier way.

Later, back at the host church, Valentina tells the group about her breakdown.

"I was just sitting there on the curb, and I started thinking about how sad this all is. How sad it is that billions and billions of people are just dying without Christ. I hate that Hell is a real place, and I hate that sin came into the world through Adam, and most of all, I hate thinking about how all we can do -- all anyone can do -- is try to tell these people that there's hope out there. They might not want to listen, but we have to keep telling them. For the rest of our lives, guys, we have to keep telling them."

Which is why they -- we -- hired an Academy Award-winning director, James Mangold, and a brilliant, Academy Award-nominated cinematographer, Wally Pfister.

(And then we put Kid Rock in it. As my friend Larry Doyle once said, "It's like buying a Ming vase and filling it with dog shit.")

Simply put: Armband religion is killing the Republican Party. And, the truth -- as long as we're setting ourselves free -- is that if one were to eavesdrop on private conversations among the party intelligentsia, one would hear precisely that.

The choir has become absurdly off-key, and many Republicans know it.

But they need those votes!

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So it has been for the Grand Old Party since the 1980s or so, as it has become increasingly beholden to an element that used to be relegated to wooden crates on street corners.

Short break as writer ties blindfold and smokes her last cigarette.

Which is to say, the GOP has surrendered its high ground to its lowest brows. In the process, the party has alienated its non-base constituents, including other people of faith (those who prefer a more private approach to worship), as well as secularists and conservative-leaning Democrats who otherwise might be tempted to cross the aisle.

It isn't that culture doesn't matter. It does. But preaching to the choir produces no converts. And shifting demographics suggest that the Republican Party -- and conservatism with it -- eventually will die out unless religion is returned to the privacy of one's heart where it belongs.

Religious conservatives become defensive at any suggestion that they've had something to do with the GOP's erosion. And, though the recent Democratic sweep can be attributed in large part to a referendum on Bush and the failing economy, three long-term trends identified by Emory University's Alan Abramowitz have been devastating to the Republican Party: increasing racial diversity, declining marriage rates and changes in religious beliefs.

like it or not, we are a diverse nation, no longer predominantly white and Christian. The change Barack Obama promised has already occurred, which is why he won.

Among Jewish voters, 78 percent went for Obama. Sixty-six percent of under-30 voters did likewise. Forty-five percent of voters ages 18-29 are Democrats compared to just 26 percent Republican; in 2000, party affiliation was split almost evenly.

The young will get older, of course. Most eventually will marry, and some will become their parents. But nonwhites won't get whiter. And the nonreligious won't get religion through external conversion. It doesn't work that way.

Given those facts, the future of the GOP looks dim and dimmer if it stays the present course. Either the Republican Party needs a new base -- or the nation may need a new party.