Former Massachusetts Gov. Mitt Romney The GOP presidential candidate gives a speech last month in New Hampshire. Photo by The Associated Press.

As Mitt Romney's presidential campaign unfolds, questions about his Mormonism have grown more frequent and pointed. The issue coincides with the emerging view that George W. Bush's own religiosity may have contributed to partisanship and resistance to alternative strategies on Iraq.

In a recent book, former Sen. John Danforth, a Missouri Republican, laments the closed communication style of the GOP leadership, doubting its ability to delineate between faith and politics. Similarly, Esther Kaplan attributes trampled down policies on stem-cell research and climate change to White House religious affiliations. Can we expect Romney, as a Mormon, to display the same type of didacticism that may have led to a far too rigid perspective on Iraq and reluctance to consider multiple options?

A cursory examination of Mormonism suggests that Romney isn't likely to apply his religiosity in quite the same ways that, say, Jerry Falwell or Pat Robertson would if they were in the White House. Mormonism differs from conservative Protestantism in basic ways, and Romney is much more likely to separate the public sphere of his work from the personal sphere of his church. The reasons for this are mostly theological, partly cultural and somewhat personal.

Belief in the separation of church and state is far more salient in Mormonism that in the type of evangelical dominations influencing George W. Bush. While Pat Robertson regularly urges his vast evangelical audience of the "700 Club" to vote a particular way, such endorsements are rarely if ever made from Mormon pulpits. In fact, before each presidential election a letter is read to all congregations reaffirming the Mormon Church's position of political neutrality, prohibiting leaders from endorsing candidates or using church property for political purposes.

When Romney recently expressed in The New York Times that country comes before church, he was evoking one of the Mormon "Articles of Faith" which affirms the belief that denominations are subject to governments: "We believe in being subject to kings, presidents, rulers and magistrates, in obeying, honoring and sustaining the law." Since their arrival in Utah's Salt Lake Valley, Mormons have acquiesced to the will of the people on a number of occasions, the 1890 cessation of polygamy being the chief example. Since experiencing brutal persecutions in the mid 1800s, Mormons have gone to great lengths to join the mainstream and shed the label of "outsider." Thus there have been few radical Mormon politicians in recent decades.

This is not to say that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (official name of the Mormon denomination) has no political influence. If the Mormon Church takes a political position in the future, it is likely to be about family, the heart of Mormon theology. On those rare occasions when Mormons sense a societal threat to the family unit, they will mobilize. Opposition to the Equal Rights Amendment in the late 1970s, and more recent campaigns against same-sex unions, are rare but aggressive actions.

Official stands by the Mormon Church, however, don't guarantee that Romney will follow lock-step as president. His Quixotic positions on gay rights and abortion hardly reflect a consistent institutional view. Likewise his Massachusetts initiative for universal health care would not resonate with many Mormons.

While evangelical Christians contend that so-called doctrinal eccentricities of Mormonism -- such as multiple books of scripture and modern-day prophets -- will shape Romney's political actions, there is little evidence to support such a theory. After all, Mormons have held high political offices from governor to U.S. senator with little religious controversy. Ezra Taft Benson, a Mormon apostle, was secretary of agriculture under Eisenhower. Mitt Romney's father, George was governor of Michigan as well as a contender for the Republican nomination for president. Today, Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, a Democrat, and Sen. Orrin Hatch, a Republican, demonstrate that Mormon political voices can be diverse. In short, Romney will not be given a script on how Mormon politicians should act.

Romney's style of talk resembles the CEO more than the minister. His passion seems to be centered in the creative solutions of complex bureaucratic problems that inevitably require the cooperation of many players. Dating back to his education at Harvard, where he studied law and business, Romney tends to frame problems less in the denominational context than in the corporate one. He returned Bain & Co. to profitability through the cooperation of multiple departments. His complex restructuring plan involved fiscal transparency, loans, employee stock-ownership and real estate investment.

Similarly, as CEO of the 2002 Olympic Winter Games, he restructured management, increased fund-raising and reduced costs. Such feats are rarely possible without the cooperation of numerous constituencies. The simple fact that a conservative Mormon was governor of the most liberal state in the United States implies some ability to communicate across the aisle.

While no one can say definitively what a Mormon president will be like, fears about a closed system in the White House or strong denominational influence seem premature. If elected and Mormonism turns out to be salient in a Romney administration, it is likely to be manifest in some other than partisanship or biased communication.

Daniel A. Stout (daniel.stout@unlv.edu) is a professor at UNLV's Greenspun School of Journalism.