Max opens our conversation with a question: "can a shattered Republican Party reunite in time for 2012, or will its fixation on ideological purity and the histrionics of its leaders prevent it from returning to national power?"

His starting point: his extensive and colorful reporting on the litany of scandals and hypocrisies that have come to define the modern Republican Party, and in particular, its Christian right base.

Obviously the GOP's problems -- and they are legion -- are not completely explained by its unbreakable alliance with the Christian right, or even by the parody-ready foibles of Mark Sanford or John Ensign. Of course Sanford and Ensign are hypocrisy's poster boys: while touting Christian values to constituents and voters, they were flouting them in their bedrooms (and in Ensign's case, through his bank account).

But to the party faithful, these powerful men's transgressions are not evidence that their movement is a failure; it's evidence that the temptations of the secular world are so persistent that the movement must redouble its efforts to dominate political affairs and government.

Max's book rests on the thesis that personal crises propel both the leaders and followers of the Christian right into the arms of authoritarianism, be it in the form of James Dobson's parenting tracts or Bill Gothard's "basic life principles."

There's little doubt of the authoritarianism of the Christian right, which also has been chronicled by Sara Diamond, Michelle Goldberg, Chris Hedges, Fred Clarkson (who is joining us this week) and others. It's the why -- why people are drawn to it -- that's more complicated, and I think to prognosticate about 2012 or any other future point requires an understanding of a constellation of motivations, not just psychological ones.

I'll focus in this post on two, which are interrelated: religion and marketing. Max discounts Dobson's credibility as a religious leader because of his lack of theological training (Dobson is trained as a psychologist). Yet as Max documents in Republican Gomorrah, Dobson was raised in a religious environment, and there's little doubt that the particular puritanical values of his Nazarene upbringing play an essential role in his fixations with obedience, discipline, and parental control -- all of which he translated not only into his advice about family life, but his politics.

I've spent a lot of time around evangelicals, and particularly Pentecostals and charismatics, and the story of a broken childhood, shattered marriage, or other personal crisis is a familiar one. It's what makes the salvation narrative so powerful: accepting Jesus as one's savior rescues one from turmoil and distress. But to evangelicals, the distress is not personal or psychological; it's Satan. So to them, they're not escaping a personal crisis, they're escaping evil, and simultaneously joining the team that's fighting it. Win-win, one might say -- which makes undoing those ties a challenge.

To non-believers, and even to liberal believers, these salvation narratives sound irrational and outlandish. But to adherents, they are very real and resonant, which is why they figure so prominently in the marketing strategy of religious right leaders. What Max writes is an "escape from freedom" (relying on Erich Fromm) for a crisis-wracked individual has become a boon industry for religious right organizations and demagogues to market themselves to funders and followers: salvation from the myriad problems caused by secularism.

But to these followers, they are not giving up freedom; to the contrary, they become active members of a kingdom of God -- or in more militant circles, God's army waging spiritual warfare with satanic forces. As Max analyzes in his section on Dobson, joining the club is portrayed as joining a family (and a "pro-family" family at that)! But Dobson, who has an Oz-like quality tucked away in Colorado Springs, doesn't provide a good example of what is so attractive to followers about Christian right ideology. It's the countless foot soldiers in churches and community groups across the country -- many of whom also lack theological training, but no matter to their followers who believe they are anointed -- that offer up a sense of community and belonging and therefore fill big gaps in people's lives.

In interviewing former followers of authoritarian mega-church pastors, I have found that the sense of community and belonging was at least as crucial as the salvation narrative. And being so close to the anointed one -- just a few rows away in the pews -- creates nearly unshakable loyalty (unshakable in part because it is bolstered by fear).

Even as the evangelical movement tries to repackage itself as less fire-and-brimstone and authoritarian than the old guard religious right, the crisis-to-salvation trajectory (or secularism-to salvation) remains a staple. (See, for example, the recent biography of Rick Warren, which details his struggles with depression and an unhappy marriage.)

As far as 2012 goes, the continued power of the salvation -- plus spiritual warfare -- narrative could be a boon for the Tea Party movement, especially if the economy fails to rebound. So while I hate to be a forecaster of a dark future, I worry that the GOP has not actually been "shattered" by the religious right but is going through a period of regrouping with it.