Isaac Butler, author of The Perfect Moment: God, Sex, Art, and the Birth of America's Culture Wars, traces the origins of modern culture wars to the late 1980s, when the religious right pivoted from the Cold War to target federally funded art. The book, praised by actor Ethan Hawke as a 'gonzo history of American art and attrition,' examines battles over works like Andres Serrano's Piss Christ and Robert Mapplethorpe's photography.
Birth of the culture wars
Butler, 47, argues that this period marks 'the birth of the modern culture wars,' where art and popular culture became politicized battlegrounds. He was spurred to write the book in 2020 after the National Gallery of Art postponed a retrospective of painter Philip Guston, whose late works featured cartoonish Klansmen. Butler, a Jewish artist, was 'dumbfounded' that allies would censor a lifelong anti-racist, leading him to 'reclaim free expression as a leftwing value.'
Simultaneously, the right resurfaced with figures like Florida Governor Ron DeSantis and 'don't say gay' laws, which felt 'alarmingly familiar' to Butler. He recalls, 'Every Republican candidate was tripping over themselves to oppress trans people. It felt like a crucible in which my identity was formed.'
The religious right's new adversary
As the Cold War ended, arch-conservatives like Pat Buchanan, Pat Robertson, and Senator Jesse Helms targeted the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA), a small agency with a budget under $500 million. The Rev. Donald Wildmon, a preacher from Mississippi, became a central architect, boycotting TV sponsors and then focusing on government-funded art. Butler describes Wildmon as 'a true genius of political organizing' who misrepresented art by taking it out of context and provoking grievance.
Helms urged Republicans to aggressively court religious voters, recognizing that the arts were one of the few public squares where LGBTQ+ perspectives were expressed. He was determined to shut that down.
Liberal failures: underestimation and compromise
Butler identifies two fatal flaws in the liberal response: underestimating opponents and fetishizing compromise. 'Yale-educated liberal elites dismissed Wildmon and Helms as yokels,' but Wildmon relished being underestimated. The second error, Butler says, is the belief that 'if I give you a little bit of what you want, you'll calm down.' This signals vulnerability, leading to more attacks. 'Symbolic defeats matter,' he adds, 'because you legitimize their point of view.'
This dynamic peaked at the Corcoran Gallery of Art in 1989, which pre-emptively cancelled a Mapplethorpe retrospective titled The Perfect Moment, bowing to political pressure. The show included stark images of gay men in BDSM practices. The Corcoran's capitulation gave the religious right a monumental victory, signaling that the arts would censor itself.
Key targets and consequences
Other targets included Andres Serrano's Piss Christ, a photo of a crucifix in urine; David Wojnarowicz's AIDS activism; and the NEA Four—performance artists Tim Miller, John Fleck, Holly Hughes, and Karen Finley—whose grants were revoked over queer and feminist subject matter. They launched a free-speech battle that reached the Supreme Court.
Butler notes that artists were radicalized by the AIDS crisis and groups like Act Up, but the relentless battles exhausted them. 'We did not emerge with a more active, permanent activist constituency for the arts,' he laments. 'A new generation of well-organized activist artists did not take their place, contributing to the mess we're in today.'
Modern parallels and erosion of viewpoint neutrality
Butler wrote much of the book during the first two years of the second Trump administration, watching institutions fall into the same traps. Trump used the coercive power of money—threatening to cut research funding if universities didn't comply with demands for single-sex bathrooms—rather than passing laws. 'What the story showed the right is how incredibly coercive money can be,' Butler says. 'You don't need to pass a law saying it's illegal to say x; you just cut funding.'
This strategy has eroded the viewpoint neutrality that the NEA was designed to protect, politicizing technocratic bodies. Today, culture wars have mutated into omnipresent background noise, with fights sparked by anything—'what soda you drink, a Black woman playing Helen of Troy.' Butler asks, 'Which fights do you bother having? It's exhausting.'
Astroturfing and the cost to culture
The right's ability to manufacture grievances, a tactic known as astroturfing, remains a masterclass in media manipulation. Butler points to the recent panic over transgender participation in youth sports, an issue few cared about a few years ago but which has been weaponized into an election-swinging issue.
The ultimate casualty has been accessibility of culture. The NEA once democratized the arts, funding rural folk art, Native American crafts, and stained-glass restoration in conservative communities. As its funding has been hobbled, arts institutions rely on wealthy donors, making the arts more elitist. Butler laments attacks on the Kennedy Center and Smithsonian Institution, calling the Smithsonian 'one of the greatest things America does—free museums for anyone.'
Butler hopes the book inspires readers to think about the place of art in their lives. 'The arts are part of what it means to be human,' he says. 'I hope people will think about how we can re-enrich that resource.'
