c. 1996 Religion News Service
PRINCETON, N.J. (RNS)-The Gallup Poll, known worldwide as a barometer of public opinion, helps America pick its presidents and form its policies.
Over the past four decades, however, the heir to the Gallup name has focused on a higher power as he has carved a niche for himself in the family business.
In the downtown Princeton, N.J., offices of the polling company, George Gallup Jr. has focused on religion trends. The research relies on the poll his father made famous, but it has been shaped by Gallup’s own deeply held religious beliefs.
“He probably knows more about the religious life of Americans than anyone alive,” said Bishop William C. Frey, dean of Trinity Episcopal School for Ministry in Ambridge, Pa., where Gallup serves on the board of trustees.
Not everyone offers such praise. Some critics believe the 65-year-old evangelical Episcopalian, in viewing his polling as a kind of crusade, has blurred the lines between believer and researcher. They charge he presses a Christian agenda by interpreting data in an overly optimistic way, a claim Gallup denies.
There is no question that the poll itself remains a respected and leading measurement of religion trends in America. With trend data dating back to the 1930s, Gallup is the best source for determining where religion stands in this country.
“I think his own personal religiousness does provide a filter that sometimes over-interprets religion trends on the hopeful or vital side,” said David Roozen, director of the Center for Social and Religious Research at Hartford Seminary in Connecticut. “On the other hand, he is a strong and important advocate for the examination of religion in America.”
On a recent afternoon, Gallup sat in his second-floor office, surrounded by antique furniture and the turn-of-the-century typewriters he collects, and talked about the changes he sees on the horizon.
His polls have documented the remarkable vitality of faith in America, but they also have revealed the nation’s tepid support for organized religion. While more than 90 percent believe in God, only about 40 percent attend weekly services.
Despite the poor attendance record, 81 percent of Americans say they believe the Bible to be the literal or inspired word of God. Twice as many Americans cite the Scriptures as the most believable authority in matters of truth (31 percent) than those naming their parents (16 percent). A mere 7 percent cite science, and a paltry 6 percent look to the news media.
Gallup polls show, however, that people rarely read the Bible and only small segments of the population agree with statements like “religious faith is the most important influence in my life.”
Gallup believes these are signs that Americans are disconnected from their own faith to a point that they don’t really understand what they believe in.
“The stability and durability of religion has been the big story over the past half-century,” he said. “We’re not in the prediction business, but judging by the trends, as the country ages, I think the level of church membership will remain high.
“The question is what goes on beneath the surface,” he added. “Are people going to be more rooted in their faith or not? There seems to be an intensified search for meaning in life and an intensified search for deeper relationships. So if the church can devise strategies to meet those two needs, the vitality of churches could be a surprise in the next century.”
In Gallup’s mind, the church won’t be able to answer America’s needs without the proper information. He views polls filled with deep, probing questions in the area of religion to be essential. In this context, his work with the organization is more than a job. He refers to it as his ministry.
A rebirth of deep spirituality in America may or may not happen. But no one would be better equipped to document it than Gallup.
His father, a doctoral graduate from the University of Iowa, did his first poll for his mother-in-law, who was running for secretary of that state. In 1935 he founded the American Institute of Public Opinion and was soon publishing the Gallup Poll.
Even in the 1930s, Gallup began asking general questions about the religious beliefs, habits and affiliations of Americans. It was a pioneering time for polls, and as Americans started to trust the science, Gallup made a fortune selling his statistics to hundreds of newspapers nationwide.
Located in Princeton, where Gallup could trade off the prestigious university’s name, the company flourished.
By the time of its founder’s death in 1984, however, the company was feeling the strain of competition. George Jr. said profits had dropped off considerably but were starting to rebound as he and his brother, Alec, another company executive, began contemplating a sale.
In 1988, the company was sold to Selection Research Institute, a much larger marketing company based in Nebraska. As part of the deal, the George H. Gallup International Institute, which focuses on issues of education, the environment, children, religion and values, was founded. The Princeton Religion Research Center, founded in the late 1970s, also remained open.
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In the months after the sale, many key executives in the area of public-interest polling left the company, some to form a rival firm in town called Princeton Survey Research Associates. They grumbled that the luster was coming off the Gallup name for the sake of profit.
George Jr. concedes they were wrenching times, filled with concern that the new company wouldn’t be faithful to the old traditions.
“We’ve been very happy with the results,” he said. “It’s been a very good relationship.”
Although the terms of the deal were not disclosed, it and profits earned by the polling company in past decades have afforded the Gallup family a comfortable lifestyle.
George Jr., Alec and their sister, Julia Laughlin, live in separate houses on the family estate, a 300-acre farm in rural Montgomery.
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Although George Jr. said he focuses his attention equally on all areas of public interest polling, religion clearly is his passion. He studied the subject as an undergraduate at Princeton University and seriously considered the Episcopal seminary.
Instead he joined the family firm, and even as he built a specialty in religion polling, he became increasingly active in his church.
“George is not a pretentious character,” said the Rev. Richard Kunz, rector at All Saints Episcopal Church in Princeton, which Gallup and his wife, Kingsley, have attended for eight years. “He is very down-to-earth and humble.”
Gallup’s humility is mentioned by most everyone who knows him, possibly because he is such an imposing figure. At 6-foot-3-inches and 245 pounds, he is soft-spoken almost to the point of meekness. His pale blue eyes sparkle with mirth, and he sports a shock of wavy gray hair and bushy eyebrows.
In church, Gallup and his wife, known to friends as Kinny, organize “covenant groups” of a dozen parishioners that get together over the course of two months for Bible study and discussion. (The couple have three children, including one son, George, who works in the religion research center.) George Jr. feels strongly that groups like these are the key to answering the void in America’s spiritual life.
He also feels many of America’s social problems stem from the fact that its citizens, while being religious in a loose sense, are not committing themselves to their faith. In a 1992 book written with Timothy Jones, “The Saints Among Us,” Gallup talked of a core U.S. population of about 13 percent who are living deeply religious lives.
“I think our role as humans is to respond to God,” Gallup said, citing poll data that show the most deeply committed people of faith are most likely to be involved with volunteer and charitable work. “For society, we know faith has strong positive consequences.”
Statements like these raise eyebrows in some quarters, even from researchers who have worked closely with Gallup over the years.
Sensitive to the suggestion that he is devising some kind of litmus test for the perfect Christian, Gallup defended his ability to remain objective in his research.
“As a pollster and social scientist, it’s just as intellectually responsible to take a pro-God position,” he said. “I’m not a reductionist. I don’t look at research as a way to explain away God. A lot of social scientists will start from the position, `How do I explain this weird phenomenon that people can’t prove?’ ”
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Corinne Kyle, an experienced researcher who has worked for Gallup more than a dozen years, agrees that his beliefs don’t interfere with the polling process.
She concedes, however, that they sometimes cause Gallup to add a question or survey response that might seem out of place. She noted one instance when he insisted people being polled on why they do volunteer work be given the option of answering that they were personally led by God.
“It’s like you’re asking people their favorite ice cream flavors, and you’ve got chocolate and vanilla and strawberry, then you throw in guava, which might be a waste of time,” she said. “But George’s input has never offended me from a professional standpoint. He would never want to offer the guava response first or emphasize it in any way that would hurt the survey.”
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