Wednesday, August 27, 2003
Commandmentalities
Well, they've finally gotten around to moving the Ten Commandments statue. What a bizarre case this was, and what a perfect illustration of how two sides of a debate can get so wrapped up in self-congratulatory extremism as to miss the big picture entirely.
We'll start with the monument opponents. I'm not referring to all the practical-minded individuals who nodded their heads in agreement that, no, a 5,000 pound engraved exceprt from a Judeo-Christian religious text should probably not be a permanent fixture of a taxpayer-funded judicial building. No, I'm referring to the predictable crowd of shrill-voiced, hate-filled, anti-religion zealots, whose bafflement that anyone with more than a grade school education would have faith in something as illogical as a Creator clouds their ability to reason and compromise, at all. These are the people threatened by Charlie Brown Christmas specials and St. Patrick's day parades, and anything else that could in any way be viewed as a governmental endorsement of religion. Actually, it's worse than that -- they're opposed to even governmental tolerance of or acknowledgement of religion.
During the course of this debate, the anti-religion zealots were on every news and opinion program, spouting over and over that such a monument "violated the constitutional separation of church and state," a phrase we hear so often now we forget that it's, at best, a hell of an exaggeration. There is no "separation of church and state" mentioned in the U.S. Constitution, at all, nor in any other founding document. The only mention of religion in the Constitution is that "congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof." This was in response, of course, to Great Britain's establishment of a national religion, requiring every citizen to be a member of that religion, and requirining mandatory church attendance by all citizens to that religion's church (the Conventicle Act of 1665). The Constitution, therefore, was written with an assurance against such religious persecution, largely in respect for other denominations of Christianity. The founders clearly intended Christianity to be an important part of American lives; public schools taught prayers, affirmation in God was required to hold public office, etc. And, as it has been stated many, many times, the foundation of our laws is largely based on Biblical morality, and the Bible is cited more than any other document, by far, by the writers of these laws, and in the laws themselves. The argument that the "founding fathers" didn't intend the U.S. to be a nation guided by Christianity ignores virtually every speech and written document from these men at the time, and cannot possibly be stated with any degree of intellectual honesty.
Then, you have the supporters of the monument, holding candelit vigils and sobbing on the courthouse steps, and who, upon the monument's eventual removal, chanted, and I'm quoting now, "get your hands off our God, God haters!" I admire the passion and zeal of some of these people, but I don't understand why they're so threatened. After all, not having the Ten Commandments in front of a courthouse in no way interferes with their practice of religion, or their ability to be a Christian. If a federal judge had ordered every citizen to remove plaques of the Ten Commandments hanging in their homes or churches, well then I'd agree with the anger. But such paranoia, that this is the start of the slippery slope of banning religion in the U.S., seems to be a bit, well, ludicrous.
That said, times do change, and what the opponents of religion should base their arguments on is logic, and the diverse desires of an evolving populace, not some unsupported misreading of the Constitution or its writers. Personally, I tend to agree that "In God We Trust" shouldn't be on currency, that "under God" shouldn't be in the pledge, and that a 5,000 pound religious monument shouldn't stand in front of a courthouse. But I cringe when I hear those defending "my side" use such weak and unsubtantiated arguments, just like I cringe when, for example, fellow pro-lifers base their arguments on how lost we would all be had Mary aborted Jesus. It is possible to be right for incorrect reasons. After all, I also side with the rights of a community to have a religious-themed parade -- not because I want the government to affirm a faith in Christianity, but because I want it to affirm its faith in Democracy. If 90% of a town wants to use taxpayer funds for a nativity scene, why should the 10% who disagree have the right to outweigh the majority? We are not a nation of minority rule, or at least we shouldn't be. What if 25% of a community is offended that sex-ed is taught in high school? Would their offense be enough to overturn the majority? Or if 35% were offended by legal abortion? Or 45% offended by affirmative action? The list goes on. In general, as a nation, we believe that the "needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few," as the saying goes, and that if a majority of individuals in a community want something to be legal, within reason, as long as it doesn't hurt the minority (i.e., slavery), we allow it. So, this should be decided by the citizens of Alabama. If a strong majority of citizens wants that statue there, it's pretty hard to make the argument that more people are hurt by its existence than its removal. As I said, I don't agree it should be there, but if I'm in a small minority of opinion, then why shouldn't my voice be outweighed by the masses? 90% of the country disagrees with me that "under God" shouldn't be in the pledge, so who am I to decide my slight annoyance outweighs our Democratic ideals?
If you're passionate about an issue, and want to change laws, and the majority opinion is against you, work to change minds. Convince others that you are right, and that they are wrong, and then you can all vote together. Working to find judges that support your unsupported cause, or appointing justices that disregard the will of the people or the rule of law in order to assert their own interpretations, is undemocratic, and fuels resentment and distrust in the government's best interests. In this example, the rule of law prohibited the monument, and so the monument by law had to go. I agree. But, if the community who was passionate about the monument's placement, and gathered enough signatures, and got the matter on a ballot, and a majority of citizens voted in its favor, than I, too, would demand the monument's return, even if I personally disagreed with its appropriateness. Then it would be my job to try and change minds.
Well, they've finally gotten around to moving the Ten Commandments statue. What a bizarre case this was, and what a perfect illustration of how two sides of a debate can get so wrapped up in self-congratulatory extremism as to miss the big picture entirely.
We'll start with the monument opponents. I'm not referring to all the practical-minded individuals who nodded their heads in agreement that, no, a 5,000 pound engraved exceprt from a Judeo-Christian religious text should probably not be a permanent fixture of a taxpayer-funded judicial building. No, I'm referring to the predictable crowd of shrill-voiced, hate-filled, anti-religion zealots, whose bafflement that anyone with more than a grade school education would have faith in something as illogical as a Creator clouds their ability to reason and compromise, at all. These are the people threatened by Charlie Brown Christmas specials and St. Patrick's day parades, and anything else that could in any way be viewed as a governmental endorsement of religion. Actually, it's worse than that -- they're opposed to even governmental tolerance of or acknowledgement of religion.
During the course of this debate, the anti-religion zealots were on every news and opinion program, spouting over and over that such a monument "violated the constitutional separation of church and state," a phrase we hear so often now we forget that it's, at best, a hell of an exaggeration. There is no "separation of church and state" mentioned in the U.S. Constitution, at all, nor in any other founding document. The only mention of religion in the Constitution is that "congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof." This was in response, of course, to Great Britain's establishment of a national religion, requiring every citizen to be a member of that religion, and requirining mandatory church attendance by all citizens to that religion's church (the Conventicle Act of 1665). The Constitution, therefore, was written with an assurance against such religious persecution, largely in respect for other denominations of Christianity. The founders clearly intended Christianity to be an important part of American lives; public schools taught prayers, affirmation in God was required to hold public office, etc. And, as it has been stated many, many times, the foundation of our laws is largely based on Biblical morality, and the Bible is cited more than any other document, by far, by the writers of these laws, and in the laws themselves. The argument that the "founding fathers" didn't intend the U.S. to be a nation guided by Christianity ignores virtually every speech and written document from these men at the time, and cannot possibly be stated with any degree of intellectual honesty.
Then, you have the supporters of the monument, holding candelit vigils and sobbing on the courthouse steps, and who, upon the monument's eventual removal, chanted, and I'm quoting now, "get your hands off our God, God haters!" I admire the passion and zeal of some of these people, but I don't understand why they're so threatened. After all, not having the Ten Commandments in front of a courthouse in no way interferes with their practice of religion, or their ability to be a Christian. If a federal judge had ordered every citizen to remove plaques of the Ten Commandments hanging in their homes or churches, well then I'd agree with the anger. But such paranoia, that this is the start of the slippery slope of banning religion in the U.S., seems to be a bit, well, ludicrous.
That said, times do change, and what the opponents of religion should base their arguments on is logic, and the diverse desires of an evolving populace, not some unsupported misreading of the Constitution or its writers. Personally, I tend to agree that "In God We Trust" shouldn't be on currency, that "under God" shouldn't be in the pledge, and that a 5,000 pound religious monument shouldn't stand in front of a courthouse. But I cringe when I hear those defending "my side" use such weak and unsubtantiated arguments, just like I cringe when, for example, fellow pro-lifers base their arguments on how lost we would all be had Mary aborted Jesus. It is possible to be right for incorrect reasons. After all, I also side with the rights of a community to have a religious-themed parade -- not because I want the government to affirm a faith in Christianity, but because I want it to affirm its faith in Democracy. If 90% of a town wants to use taxpayer funds for a nativity scene, why should the 10% who disagree have the right to outweigh the majority? We are not a nation of minority rule, or at least we shouldn't be. What if 25% of a community is offended that sex-ed is taught in high school? Would their offense be enough to overturn the majority? Or if 35% were offended by legal abortion? Or 45% offended by affirmative action? The list goes on. In general, as a nation, we believe that the "needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few," as the saying goes, and that if a majority of individuals in a community want something to be legal, within reason, as long as it doesn't hurt the minority (i.e., slavery), we allow it. So, this should be decided by the citizens of Alabama. If a strong majority of citizens wants that statue there, it's pretty hard to make the argument that more people are hurt by its existence than its removal. As I said, I don't agree it should be there, but if I'm in a small minority of opinion, then why shouldn't my voice be outweighed by the masses? 90% of the country disagrees with me that "under God" shouldn't be in the pledge, so who am I to decide my slight annoyance outweighs our Democratic ideals?
If you're passionate about an issue, and want to change laws, and the majority opinion is against you, work to change minds. Convince others that you are right, and that they are wrong, and then you can all vote together. Working to find judges that support your unsupported cause, or appointing justices that disregard the will of the people or the rule of law in order to assert their own interpretations, is undemocratic, and fuels resentment and distrust in the government's best interests. In this example, the rule of law prohibited the monument, and so the monument by law had to go. I agree. But, if the community who was passionate about the monument's placement, and gathered enough signatures, and got the matter on a ballot, and a majority of citizens voted in its favor, than I, too, would demand the monument's return, even if I personally disagreed with its appropriateness. Then it would be my job to try and change minds.
