Mozert v. Hawkins County Public Schools (The Tale of the Troubling Textbook) – Part Two

Tell Him About The Twinkie, Ray

In researching cases for the follow-up to “Have To” History: Landmark Supreme Court Cases, I came across a case from Tennessee that simply fascinates me, despite being a relatively minor decision in the larger scheme of things. Unable to resist chasing this particular rabbit trail, I posted last time about the basic complaint (fundamentalist parents didn’t like a literature textbook) and the summary dismissal by a federal judge in Eastern Tennessee. The case was appealed to the Sixth Circuit Court of Appeals, however, which is where we pick up today.

I’m simply giddy, aren’t you?

Let’s Phrase That Differently…

Mozert Gavel

Part of the appeal of digging through the written records of this case as it bounced around the courts is that we lack easy access to the specific complaints, the textbook itself (although I’m working on that), and any verbal arguments made in various courts. Those things may be public record in Tennessee or Ohio somewhere, but short of a road trip (“Hey, honey? I know you were looking forward to seeing your parents over the holidays, but I’m super-curious about some obscure court transcripts from 35 years ago, so… can we go the other direction instead?”), all we have are the decisions of various judges.

They’re all looking at the same material; the differences in what’s discussed at each step is a function of the status of the case and what each court wishes to emphasize. For example, we have the 6th Circuit’s complete response to the parents’ appeal. They refused to hear the case (this first time), but neither were they sold on the lower court’s decision to issue a summary judgement in favor of the school district. Why?

In our opinion, as hereinafter pointed out, there were sufficient disputed issues of fact not resolved to make it erroneous for the district court to grant summary judgment. We therefore reverse and remand for the district court to conduct an evidentiary hearing and to adopt findings of fact and conclusions of law.

This is no doubt standard judicial stuff – “It looks to us like judgey judgey, so legal legal legal, etc.” I’d make a poor member of the bench, however, because what I’m hearing is much closer to “Not sure what YOU were thinking, Mr. ‘I-Don’t-Feel-Like-Having-A-Real-Trial’, but this one needs to be heard FOR REAL. You know, if you’re not too busy to BE A FEDERAL JUDGE PROPERLY.”

I’m sure it wasn’t perceived that way, however. That would be silly.

Probably.

Overexposure Is Bad For The Soul

Appellants, who are fundamentalist Christians, brought an action in the United States District Court for the Eastern District of Tennessee… to enjoin the Board and its administrators from compelling their children to participate in classes which used the Holt primer and to instead permit them to have their own separate reading classes with a different “non-offensive” reading primer. The complaint alleged that the Holt books contained teachings which were contrary to their fundamentalist beliefs and that their religion forbade them from reading such contrary teachings. Appellants emphasized that they were not seeking to ban the Holt books from the schools nor did they object to its use by the rest of the student body.

Terrifying StoriesThis is an important distinction. The parents weren’t trying to get their own materials or beliefs injected INTO the curriculum; they were merely trying to allow their own children to opt OUT of the existing materials because they found them offensive. This sets the issue apart from issues like school prayer or creationism, in that they’re not apparently interested in pressuring other children into conforming to their religious druthers. If there were, the case would be far simpler. It might even have justified the way the judge in Tennessee completely blew them off and no-wonder-he’ll-never-reach-the-circuit-courts-like-us.

{A}ppellees submitted an affidavit by appellee Hawkins County School Superintendent Bill Snodgrass in which he defended the decision to use the Holt books. Snodgrass stated his belief that the books were very instructive and attractive and that they substantially enhanced reading skills. He warned that if the appellants were permitted to opt out of the regular reading program and to hold their own alternative classes “teachers would have no control over the management, they could not possibly teach skills in sequential order and the teaching-learning process would become completely unmanageable chaos.”

The “appellees” are school officials (roughly comparable to the “defendants” in a criminal trial). Superintendent Snodgrass made the first argument that would have come to my mind if asked to create a separate “non-offensive” lesson every time I used a story which didn’t overtly promote fundamentalist Christianity. “Are you kidding? I’m not doubling my work load in order to cater to a few, you know… wing nuts!”

Wisely, he didn’t put it that way. He started with what a swell book this particular publication truly is (although I desperately hope he didn’t actually call it “instructive and attractive”), then transitioned into “what they’re asking for isn’t practical.” The problem is that the school’s defense sounds rather whiney this way, and perhaps a tad melodramatic. “B-b-b-but… we couldn’t teach the SKILLS in SEQUENTIAL ORDER and it would all just end up… we mean… CHAOS!”

The district added that any attempt to create a second curriculum to accommodate a specific religious group would run them into trouble with the Establishment Clause. This is a bit like throwing a seatbelt violation onto a speeding ticket, but given the consistency with which the Supreme Court had been condemning perceived establishment violations in the decades leading up to Mozert, it was probably worth a shot.

The (Offensive?) Nature of Public Education

Mozert BoxWhile the general idea of the Superintendent’s complaint is no doubt spot on, I have to wonder why his team didn’t lead with what to me is the much more palatable argument. “We WANT our kids to be exposed to a variety of ideas and beliefs. We’re not telling them what to believe; we’re trying to help them understand how other people think and feel – the essential foundation of all civilization. While the mechanics of grammar and structure may be the foundation of reading instruction, empathy is the heart and soul of all good literature. Teaching them that they don’t have to even be in the room anytime someone around them veers into non-fundamentalism isn’t freedom of religion – it’s freedom from thought, challenge, or diversity. It’s a violation of our ethical and professional obligation to prepare them to function in the real world – socially, professionally, and politically.”

Or something along those lines. And the Court got there on their own, eventually… sort of. I just find it an odd choice – right up there with the parents initially insisting they didn’t want their kids corrupted by deceptive creatures like Anne Frank, because that doesn’t conjure up unpleasant implications or anything.

Speaking of which, it sounds like the appellants (the parents who didn’t like the textbook) at some point revised their list of offending materials a bit. Not sure if this was before or after the case bumped up to the Sixth, but notice how differently this reads than the version we read about in Eastern Tennessee:

Appellants subsequently filed an amended complaint which more specifically set out their reasons for objecting to the Holt books. They claimed that the books were offensive to their religious beliefs because: (1) they teach witchcraft in violation of Biblical precepts against such teaching; (2) they teach that certain values, held to be absolute by appellants, are relative depending upon the situation; (3) they teach that it is proper to be disobedient to parents, despite Biblical precepts to the contrary; (4) they teach that idol worship may be beneficial and that prayer to a horse god may have helped to end World War II, despite the Biblical prohibition against idol worship and belief; (5) they teach that one can achieve salvation simply by having faith in the supernatural without necessarily believing in Jesus; (6) they teach that Jesus needed the help of Jewish scribes to write his story — thus implying that Jesus was illiterate — despite the fact that the Bible says that Jesus was literate and that his story was written by non-Jews; (7) they teach that man evolved from the common ancestors of monkeys in contradiction of the creation story in the Bible; (8) they teach “humanism, . . . one world concepts [and] antinationalism” — values which are contrary to those possessed by appellants.

While I’m still skeptical about the degree to which short stories in a middle school primer truly pushed little people into worshipping horse gods, this list has the significant benefit of not sounding completely insane. One might even begin to wonder if perhaps the touchy-feely, one-gluten-free-world mojo so popular with academic types in the late 1970s might have infiltrated the editorial choices of those most in a position to influence tiny brains. At what point have we raced well past “everyone is different” and ended up lost somewhere between “meat is murder” and “vote Bernie or we all perish”?

It’s Not A Bug; It’s A Feature

Dangerous One World ToleranceBy way of driving their point home, those sneaky fundies had somehow secured a copy of the Teacher’s Edition of the textbook in question – which, for those of you outside the world of public education, is akin to nabbing the Ark of the Covenant from Indiana Jones or remotely hacking celebrity cell phones in order to post their dirty selfies online. The Court explains:

Appellants… cited an essay written by Thomas J. Murphy, Holt’s Senior Vice President for its school book division, which was published in the teacher’s edition of one of the Holt books. In this essay, Murphy noted that school reading programs involve more than simply the teaching of reading skills but also the shaping of students’ ethical values. He contrasted the values of the reading books used previously in the schools with the new Holt books. The former, he indicated, “emphasized a Judeo-Christian values system in a most direct way” while the latter emphasized the need for students “to have a sense of themselves as participants in a national and world community; to understand and to be mindful of the richness of our diversity.”

Appellants alleged that these statements show that the Holt authors rejected the traditional Judeo-Christian values and sought to teach contrary values. Appellants also cited several examples in the books themselves which they claim support their contention, including readings which discuss, without disapproval, Chinese, Islamic and Buddhist philosophy.

Reading isn’t just about the mechanics, the publisher’s Hippie-in-Chief contends – it’s about “shaping students’ ethical values” (and no doubt unblocking their chakras and promoting free love and such). How? By helping students see themselves as part of a larger world in which not everyone is like them.

What the district should have been proclaiming as its strongest defense, the fundamentalists were mic-dropping as irrefutable proof of the overt offense which set them off in the first place.

We’re going to come back to this. It is, in my mind, the most salient issue of the entire case – and the one connecting it in a very real way to major changes in how our nation is choosing to define itself a generation later.

First, however, we should wrap up the 6th Circuit’s decision.

Remanding and Demanding

Summary judgment may be granted only if there is no genuine issue with respect to the material facts of the case… This issue must be resolved on remand by the district court with appropriate findings of fact and conclusions of law.

{T}he state can permissibly impose a burden on an individual’s free exercise rights if the state has a compelling justification for doing so. Appellees insist that their interest in teaching reading to the elementary school students under their charge is just such a compelling interest which would justify the burden imposed on appellants. Further, they argue that to accommodate appellants’ demands would require them to violate the First Amendment’s establishment clause. Appellants, on the hand, insist that their opt-out proposal would not impair appellees’ ability to teach reading since appellees would still be permitted to teach reading with the Holt books to the rest of the student body and appellants would still be required to learn the very same reading skills as the other students, albeit with an alternative book. Again, there is a factual dispute which precludes disposition of the issue on summary judgment. A remand is, therefore, necessary for the district court to make factual findings and conclusions of law on this issue as well as to permit reasonable discovery if requested.

In other words, “We’re not deciding this here, but East Tennessee needs to give it another look – for real, this time – and base their decision on all the total facts available.”

Mozert FoldersJudge Hull of the U.S. District Court for the Eastern District of Tennessee would do just that. As instructed, he’d give the fundamentalists a fuller hearing and – hold on to your powdered wigs – decide that maybe they had a point after all. The first time through, he’d found that because the textbook and the school were entirely neutral towards religion in general or specific religions in particular, there was no First Amendment violation. The second time around (fresh from his scolding by the 6th Circuit), Hull found in favor of the parents and even fined the school district to pay for their legal expenses.  

Ready for the twist?

The case was again appealed to the 6th Circuit Court of Appeals, this time by the school district. The 6th Circuit overturned the verdict because – wait for it – the textbook and the school were entirely neutral towards religion in general or specific religions in general, so there was no First Amendment Violation.

There’s no record of what Judge Hull might have thrown through the wall or any naughty words he may have uttered upon reading their decision.

Next time we’ll look at the district court’s reasons for changing its mind and the 6th Circuit’s (final) determination of why the parents were going to have to be content with private or home schooling. After that, we’ll return to that salient point I mentioned – the part about what schools are supposed to be doing in the first place, and what happens when the druthers of individuals and the good of society starkly clash.

If you’d like to read my surprisingly well-researched, far less speculative, and 97% politically balanced take on the 45 most important cases in Supreme Court History, go buy my book. In the meantime, you can keep getting the unedited, rambling versions of the process right here for free.

court map

Mozert v. Hawkins County Public Schools (The Tale of the Troubling Textbook) – Part One

It’s An Elephant, Dammit!

Wall of Separation CartoonI’ve been researching and drafting what I hope will be the next “Have To” History book. The focus is on the tricky balance between “free exercise” and “establishment” in relation to public education – how to allow students (and to a lesser extent, educators) to express their sincerely held beliefs while still protecting the supposed neutrality of the system towards all things supernatural. It’s fascinating stuff (well, to me, at least), but I confess I’m having trouble with potential titles.

I was initially thinking “Have To” History: A Hall of Separation, but my wife assures me no one will know what I’m talking about (and she’s probably right). I’ve tried variations which are a bit more specific – “Have To” History: A Wall of Separation – Balancing Free Exercise and Non-Establishment in Public Education Throughout American History, for example. Unfortunately, paragraph-long book titles went out of fashion nearly a century ago. Plus, I’m not sure it would fit on the cover.

One of the most challenging aspects so far is deciding what to include. The Supreme Court has tackled a variety of issues involving the separation of church and state in relation to public schooling – school prayer (both teacher and student-led), teaching evolution, equitable facilities usage, and the real biggie these days – funding and resources. (These often involve “school choice” programs, vouchers, etc.) At the same time, education is historically a local concern, even in the 21st century. The Supremes generally prefer to restrict themselves to cases which involve either (a) substantial constitutional issue which must be addressed, or (b) issues which have presented themselves to various district courts and in which consistency has proven elusive.

All So Appealing

That means that many times, the most fascinating cases are those which never get past the nearest Court of Appeals. There are twelve of these scattered strategically across the U.S. and they’re a pretty big deal. Prayer on football fields, schemes for redirecting public money into select religious programs, challenges to curriculum – they get all kinds of fun stuff. The idea is that they use precedents set by the Supreme Court as their guide, along with the U.S. Constitution, of course.

But the devil, as they say, is in the details, and it’s not always obvious how existing decisions might shape each new variation. If it were, the case probably wouldn’t have made it that far. That’s the whole point of consistent national interpretation, after all.

It was at the Circuit Court level that I stumbled across Mozert v. Hawkins, which was decided by the 6th Circuit Court of Appeals (Cincinnati, OH) in 1987. Fascinated by the summary I was reading, I searched for more details and ended up – quite accidentally – stumbling through court records from several years earlier in the process. It was reading through these that I fell in love – with the case, with the process, with the various written opinions along the way, and with how very American it is from every angle.

Buckle up, because this one will take a while. Unlike the succinct, pithy, carefully balanced and academically maximized summaries in the book, this is what those cases look like in my brain before I get serious about making them, you know… useful.

Yes, Virginia – There ARE Two Clauses

The First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution opens with two clauses related to religion: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof…”

The first of these, commonly referred to as the “Establishment Clause,” prohibits Congress from doing anything to promote a particular religion or religion in general. The second, known as the “Free Exercise Clause,” says that Congress can’t do anything to discourage or inhibit religious beliefs of citizens. Over time, these limitations have been understood to apply to government at all levels.

Most “wall of separation” cases related to public education involve questions of “establishment.” When Ms. Magdalene puts up Christmas decorations in her classroom, that violates the Establishment Clause. Inviting local clergy to open graduation ceremonies with a brief prayer is a no-no because it’s “establishment.” Requiring equal time for Creationism when it’s time for the chapter on Evolution? You guessed it – that’s “establishment” as well.

From time to time, however, a case will work its way through the system asserting the opposite. In these “free exercise” cases, the claim is that the state – in this case, manifested as the public school system – has hindered personal expressions of religious belief or behavior without sufficient cause. The “sufficient cause” part is important because the state has the right to place some limits on how faith is manifested when there’s a good reason. (Human sacrifice, for example, is a “no-no” even if your gods demand placation.) Government entities must demonstrate that they have a good reason for their restrictions, however. And, if there are less-restrictive ways to accomplish those goals, they have to try those first.

The Problem With Fiction

Great Waves BreakingEnter Vicki Frost, the mother of several children attending public school in Hawkins County, Tennessee. School had only been a session for a few weeks in the Fall of 1983 when her 6th grade daughter brought home an English textbook containing a story she’d been assigned to read. This story, as it turned out, involved… mental telepathy. Worse, this fictional telepathy was treated by the story as if it were no big deal, despite clearly being un-Biblical.

As Ms. Frost perused her daughter’s textbook, she discovered a number of other alarming tales as well – stories normalizing cultural diversity, humanism, evolution, disobedience to parents, and the idea that children must eventually learn to think for themselves.

Frost spoke to some other concerned parents, and they approached the school about providing alternative reading assignments. At first, the school agreed. This meant, of course, that this handful of students had to be sent to the library or another room each time the class discussed the short stories in question. There could be no real collaboration or analysis unless teachers held a separate, alternative class for them each time. Eventually, the district mandated that all students would follow the prescribed curriculum. Refusal to do so would mean failing the class and could lead to disciplinary action as well.

Frost and friends took their school district to court. They claimed the district’s insistence on using this particular textbook was a violation of their “free exercise” of religion as parents. Because the issue was constitutional rather than criminal, it was heard in federal court (as opposed to the more familiar criminal courts we see in TV dramas). The lead plaintiff was another parent in the group, Bob Mozert – hence the official moniker of the case as it moved through the system.

It’s too bad, really – Frost v. Hawkins has a way more badass ring to it. Very Game of Thrones. But that’s paperwork for you.

Judge Hull

Thumbs Up JesusDistrict Judge Thomas Hull of the U.S. District Court for the Eastern District of Tennessee (where the case presumably began) was not initially swayed by the parents’ complaints. He issued a summary judgement dismissing the case – meaning he didn’t find enough substance to their complaint to even hold a full trial. It’s sort of the judicial version of snorting and then asking, “Oh, were you serious?”

Judge Hull’s written explanation contains some interesting details and introduces themes which – in retrospect – serve as something of an “overture” for the larger story of Mozert as it moved through the courts. He couldn’t have known this, of course, let alone anticipate that he was about to get his honorable hand slapped by the 6th Circuit Court of Appeals for dismissing these parents’ complaints so readily.

{The} allegation that the books in question teach that one does not need to believe in God in a specific way, but that any type of faith in the supernatural is an acceptable method of salvation, {constitutes a valid complaint} only if the books were asserting either that salvation, or some form of religion, was necessary, or that no religion was necessary. In other words, the test would be whether the books were neutral on the issue of religion, or violating this neutrality either by advocating a particular religion or by being anti-religion.

The plaintiffs were directed to specify to the Court exactly which parts of the books substantiated their allegation. They have now responded, and it is clear that the books neither instruct the children that they must be saved, nor that they do not need any form of religion. The plaintiffs do not suggest otherwise. What they object to is the underlying philosophy of the readers, taken as a whole, which is geared to making the school children better participants in the world community. The books are aimed at fostering a broad tolerance for all of man’s diversity, in his races, religions and cultures. They intentionally expose the readers to a variety of religious beliefs, without attempting to suggest that one is better than another.

In other words, the initial complaint that the textbook in question was unfair to their religion turned out to be in reality a complaint that the book was equally fair to all religions. This, the parents insisted, was diminishing towards the one true faith – theirs. They even provided examples of several particularly problematic passages, as Judge Hull explained:

The first example is a poem entitled “The Blind Men and the Elephant” by John Godfrey Saxe, described as a Hindu fable… The poem described six blind men who each feel a portion of an elephant and reach a conclusion of what the whole must be like on the basis of their limited experience…

You all know this one. One man says, “an elephant is like a rope” and another, “it’s more like a solid wall” – that sort of thing. The lesson, of course, is that no one person usually has the complete picture or the whole truth.

In fairness to these clearly very fundamentalist parents, they’re not entirely wrong. The message that “all truths have roughly the same value” and “everyone has to find their own way” isn’t so far removed from “I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together, goo goo ga-joo.” When the core of your faith is “I am THE Way, THE Truth and THE Life,” this sort of neo-hippie-unitarian nonsense is arguably chilling. And their argument wasn’t that each individual story was untenable, but that as a whole, the book seems to have made its choices in order to inculcate a specific set of values – inclusiveness, moral relativism, feminism, humanism, etc.

Next time you come across a literature textbook from the late 1970s, take a gander for yourself. My money says you’ll find touchy-feely neo-hippie. So they may have been onto something.

Did Soros Pay For This?

Anne FrankI’d respectfully suggest, however, that Frost and company made a major strategic error when they included their next example on the “naughty” list. Still quoting Judge Hull:

The second illustration… is from the classic story, The Diary of Anne Frank…

Whoa, there, my little inquisitors!

Let’s assume for a moment there are excerpts in Frank’s diary that proffer potentially problematic theology. The book isn’t necessarily above questioning just because she’s, you know… um…

But how was this a solid move strategically? How must THAT conversation have gone?

“Look guys, we dance along the rightmost edge of ultra-fundamentalism. Even other Christians find us a bit off-putting. But we might be able to get a win here if we can present our case as a reasonable effort to defend our sincerely-held beliefs. We’ve already got a few dozen examples on our list – stories with witchcraft, teen rebellion, eastern mysticism, and of course plenty of ‘one world order’ stuff. I’m not sure we’re doing enough, however, to demonize the most sympathetic figure of the 20th century. If only we could more strongly associate ourselves by implication with history’s single most horrifying example of intolerance and self-righteousness without the slightest awareness of irony…”

It just strikes me as slightly tone deaf is all.

This Court does not doubt the sincerity of the plaintiffs’ beliefs, nor does it doubt that the implication which can validly be found in the passages cited, offends the plaintiffs. This Court is satisfied by the examples filed that the books have the philosophical viewpoint plaintiff alleges. However, it cannot find in them, anything that can be considered a violation of plaintiff’s constitutional rights…

{T}he First Amendment “does not guarantee that nothing offensive to any religion will be taught in the schools.” (Williams v. Board of Education of the County of Kanawha, 4th Circuit Court of Appeals, 1975). What is guaranteed is that the state schools will be neutral on the subject, neither advocating a particular religious belief nor expressing hostility to any or all religions. From what this Court has read, it would appear that the Holt Basic Readings carefully adopt this constitutionally mandated neutrality. Moreover, they are well calculated to equip today’s children to face our increasingly complex and diverse society with sophistication and tolerance.

In short, Judge Hull fully accepted that the message to which these parents objected clearly emanated from the text when considered as a whole. This did not, however, constitute enough of a violation to justify forcing the school to change what they were doing. Efforts to equip students to function in a diverse world in which people hold all sorts of beliefs and practice any number of weird behaviors wasn’t a bug – it was a feature. The school wasn’t asking students to change what they believed or did, so it simply wasn’t a First Amendment Issue, according to Hull. In fact, it wasn’t even worth having a trial.

The Sixth Circuit Court of Appeals wasn’t ready to say whether or not anyone’s “free exercise” was being infringed, but neither did they buy the quick-and-easy summary judgement of Judge Hull. That’s where Part Two of this wacky trilogy begins.

“Have To” History: A Wall of Separation

H2H: Supreme CourtNOTE: I’ve finally completed “Have To” History: Landmark Supreme Court Cases (or at least the initial draft). At the moment, it’s available on Teachers Pay Teachers and intended to be an easily affordable resource for pretty much any American History or Government teacher of whatever level – from 8th Grade Civics to APUSH. I’m not looking to make serious money or anything, but it took a long time to write and edit, so until I have time to pursue other avenues, there it is.

In the meantime, it’s on to the resource book I’ve wanted to put together for a much longer time – Supreme Court cases related to religion in the public square, particularly in relation to public schools. I find the topic fascinating and the cases and their written opinions far more engaging than pretty much anything else in the annals of jurisprudence. I realize this makes me both weird and slightly pathetic, but so be it. This post is the first chapter of this new undertaking. If you’d like to read more, go buy the first one so I can afford to order pizza and keep working on it.

“Have To” History: Stuff You Don’t Really Want To Know (But For Some Reason Have To) About The “Wall of Separation”

Three Big Things:

Madison Talking Bill of Rights1. The First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution contains six specific protections, two of which are related to religion. The “Establishment” Clause says government cannot support one religion over another or promote the idea of religion over non-religion; the “Free Exercise Clause” says government cannot target or hinder a specific religion or religion in general.  

2. The phrase “a wall of separation between Church & State” comes from a letter by President Jefferson to the Danbury Baptists; while not part of the Constitution, it’s been cited so often by various Supreme Court decisions that it might as well be.

3. The 14th Amendment, passed shortly after the Civil War, requires states to recognize most of the same rights guaranteed on the federal level by other amendments – or at least that’s how it’s come to be understood. The application of principles found in the Bill of Rights to state or local government via the 14th Amendment is known in legal circles as “incorporation.”

Background: A Bill of Rights

The U.S. Constitution was written as a replacement for the Articles of Confederation – the new nation’s first effort at writing a broad set of laws by which to govern itself. The Articles had guaranteed the States almost complete sovereignty and absolute independence from one another – a great idea in theory, but not as workable in practice.

It was understandable that the Framers would err on the side of freedom, having finally won an extended and bitter war with the Motherland over a King they’d claimed was a “tyrant.” There were over two dozen specific examples of his excessive rule-making and liberty-crushing behavior included in the break-up letter penned by the Colonies – a missive better known as the “Declaration of Independence.”

But they had, perhaps, swung a bit too far away from structure and security. The Constitution was an effort to rectify the resulting difficulties. Turns out that sometimes, thoughtful limits actually grease the gears of liberty.

When the U.S. Constitution was finally ready for public review and debate in the late 1780’s, there were many who thought we’d once again overcompensated – this time back towards too much central authority and too little freedom. They wanted some sort of written guarantee they wouldn’t be oppressed by this bigger, stronger government.

The authors were appalled at this concern. Obviously, any powers not specifically granted to the national government by this document remained with the States and the People thereof! To spell out those protections would be… redundant! Possibly even limiting! What if listing some specifically guaranteed rights implied that they were the only ones thus secured?!

It almost got ugly.

Nevertheless, a compromise was reached. The Constitution was ratified, and a collection of ten clarifying Amendments almost immediately passed as a package deal. Thus, the “Bill of Rights.” Despite the numbering system, there are far more than ten rights included. Some Amendments, like the Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth, are packed with due process and thick verbiage. Others, like the Eighth, are fairly crisp – although written in such a way as to allow at least 225 years of subsequent debate as to exactly what they mean.

The Third is all but irrelevant. The Seventh, strangely technical. The Second – well, the Second was badly written from the moment it was passed. Whatever it did or didn’t intend to say about the right to “bear arms,” James Madison’s English teacher must have had a fit.

But the best-known is probably the First.

The First Amendment   

The First Amendment contains six specific protections, somewhat related, and presumably so very important that they all tied for first when the Framers were debating what to guarantee the mostiest mostest:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

These are the biggies that squeezed in ahead of militias and quartering of soldiers, and even beat out due process in order of presentation. The right to protest. The right to associate with whomever you wish, including but certainly not limited to political organizations of any and all stripes. Freedom of the press and of speech – absolute linchpins to any nation hoping to maintain the slightest credibility as a true democracy.

But coming ahead of all of them – earning the first two slots in all of Amendment-dom – are the twin ‘freedom of religion’ clauses.

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion…

In the most basic terms, this says the government may not do anything to promote or encourage a particular religion or the concept of religion in general. Doing so creates a double curse. It leads to the marginalization and eventual persecution of those with different beliefs (whether that difference is major or minor), AND it soils the very faith the government is promoting by making it a tool of secular authority, regulated by political maneuvering and flawed men rather than one’s own spiritual journey.

A faith mandated by the guys with guns and the keys to the jail is, of course, no faith at all.

Or prohibiting the free exercise thereof…

This is the part which says that the government may not do anything to discourage, limit, or punish a particular religion or the concept of religion in general. Hopefully the problems with that sort of behavior are self-evident.

The President and Some Baptists

TJ WorkingAs to the phrase “wall of separation between church and state,” we have Jefferson to either thank (or blame, depending on your point of view). Well, him and the Baptists.

In 1801, while Jefferson was President, he received a letter from the Danbury Baptists Association in Danbury, Connecticut. They had some concerns about religious freedom and what they saw as inadequate delineation between the secular and the spiritual:

Our sentiments are uniformly on the side of religious liberty: that Religion is at all times and places a matter between God and individuals, that no man ought to suffer in name, person, or effects on account of his religious opinions, {and} that the legitimate power of civil government extends no further than to punish the man who works ill to his neighbor.

These Danbury Baptists were asserting that faith is between the individual and his God, while the government is simply supposed to keep us from killing one another or taking each other’s stuff. That’s it – no getting involved in issues best left to the pulpit or the prayer closet. They were frustrated at what they perceived as local governmental practices, indirectly promoting on sect over another, and a growing tendency for those seeking power to fling accusations of godlessness at opponents who refused to use their secular authority to do the same.

Way back in the day, that is.

That is, however, the logical and historical result when you have a religious population and a government of-the-by-the-for-the people. It’s natural to want government to step in and take “your side.” It’s the flip-side of religious freedom – where two or more or gathered, they’ll immediately begin arguing about the finer points of hermeneutics. Unless a government makes substantial and ongoing efforts to avoid such entanglements, those arguments naturally spill over into the secular realm.

It was Jefferson’s reply which gave expression to what has become the most common understanding of the First Amendment’s guarantees regarding matters of faith:

Believing with you that religion is a matter which lies solely between Man & his God, that he owes account to none other for his faith or his worship, that the legitimate powers of government reach actions only, & not opinions, I contemplate with sovereign reverence that act of the whole American people which declared that their legislature should “make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof,” thus building a wall of separation between Church & State.

There it is.

By itself, it’s just a phrase in a letter. But it’s a phrase in a letter which has been repeatedly referenced and validated in Supreme Court decisions and has become an entrenched and widely accepted interpretation of First Amendment protections through case law and sheer longevity. In other words, it’s as close to belonging in the actual text of the Constitution as something can be without actually being in the text. Then again, it didn’t really matter very much for the next hundred years.

The 14th Amendment and “Incorporation”

Lady Justice w/ LightingPrior to the 14th Amendment, the protections offered by the Bill of Rights applied exclusively to the Federal Government. While most States had similar protections in their own constitutions, these were inconsistent and locally interpreted. The 14th Amendment changed all of that in ways neither immediate nor obvious. Passed in 1868 as part of the ‘Reconstruction Amendments,’ its initial intent was to guarantee full and equal citizenship for Freedmen – newly freed Black Americans.

It reads, in part:

No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.

It was the first time that the States had been specifically targeted this way. It chipped away substantially at the wall separating State and Federal power – with central authority clearly coming out ahead. Still, several generations passed before the Supreme Court began regularly interpreting the Fourteenth Amendment as a means of “incorporation” – applying the Bill of Rights to the States by way of that part about “equal protection.”

In 1947, this gradual “incorporation” finally crossed into the realm of public schooling. Well… sort of. It made it as far as the bus. The case was , and it began a long and winding path of jurisprudence shaping the relationship between religion and public schools.

Spoiler alert: not everyone would be happy with the results. 

Moment of Silence – Bown v. Gwinnett County School District (1997) / Brown v. Gilmore (2001)

Moment of Silence

Two cases in the early 1960s largely eliminated state-sponsored prayer from public schooling. Engel v. Vitale (1962) and Abington v. Schempp (1963) are to this day touted by the far right as responsible for having kicked God out of schools – leading inevitably to sex, drugs, violence, rock’n’roll, corduroy, divorce, the pill, AIDS, the Clintons, terrorism, and a Kenyan sleeper-cell Mooslim illegitimately seizing the White House for eight long, painful years. 

The solution, of course, is to get God back IN our schools by requiring regimented recitation of state-approved chants. He LOVES those! Do this, we are assured, and America’s problems will vanish faster than you can say “civil liberties!” 

Alabama led the way in the 1980s with a series of legislation which eventually led to Wallace v. Jaffree (1985), the only “Moment of Silence” case to reach the Supreme Court to date. The Court determined that the state could mandate a “moment of silence” during the school day, but could not lead or even encourage prayer during that time. 

The goals of Alabama’s legislation were no secret – state legislators ran on promises to get prayer back into schools, or as close as they could get it. That’s largely what stifled further establishment in Alabama – the Court refused to pretend the history and rhetoric associated with legislation didn’t exist while considering its constitutionality. 

Legislative leaders in other states took note and began exercising greater caution as they argued for moments of silence of their own. Suddenly this 60-second period would promote non-violence and academic reflection and gluten-free living and all sorts of things. 

A decade after Wallace, Georgia passed its own version of a “moment of silence.” It was challenged by a classroom teacher and ended up in the Eleventh Circuit Court of Appeals as Bown v. Gwinnett County School District (1997). The Court determined that the Moment of Quiet Reflection in Schools Act did NOT violate the Establishment Clause. 

The Court’s written opinion is unremarkable, but includes some details of note, such as this bit from what they call the Act’s “uncodified preamble”:

The General Assembly finds that in today’s hectic society, all too few of our citizens are able to experience even a moment of quiet reflection before plunging headlong into the day’s activities. Our young citizens are particularly affected by this absence of an opportunity for a moment of quiet reflection. The General Assembly finds that our young, and society as a whole, would be well served if students were afforded a moment of quiet reflection at the beginning of each day in the public schools.

It’s an absurd bit of glossy nonsense, but it’s constitutional nonsense. We could all probably benefit from drinking more water as well, but I notice no one’s mandating a moment of refreshing hydration each morning. But whatever.  

Also in the ‘History of the Case’:

Senator David Scott, the primary sponsor of the Act… represented an urban district in Atlanta, Georgia. He was the Chairman of the Senate Education Committee… and a member of the State Violence Task Force Committee to prevent violence in schools. Senator Scott introduced {the Moment of Silence bill} as a part of a package of legislation aimed at reducing violence among Georgia’s youths.

I realize I’m a bit cynical, but 60 seconds of mandatory head-bowing seems a poor substitute for addressing poverty, mental health, drug addiction, sexual abuse, etc. But perhaps I assume too much. 

Senator Scott had observed that after several killings on school campuses, students came together to have a moment of silent reflection. Noting that this moment of silence seemed to be beneficial and calming, Senator Scott believed that providing students with an opportunity for silent introspection at the beginning of each school day would help to combat violence among Georgia’s students.

I guess we’re lucky Georgia didn’t mandate a daily mock funeral ceremony using the same reasoning. 

During debates over the bill, some state legislators liked it specifically because it was a step towards school prayer. Others opposed it for the same reason. Wisely, many in favor of the bill went on record arguing that it didn’t promote school prayer or have any religious purpose at all. That gave the Court enough cover as to the purpose of the bill that they could in good conscience consider it “religiously neutral.” 

The teacher who initiated the case, Brian Brown, argued that the law violated the Establishment Clause and cited the “Lemon Test” to prove it. No surprise, then, that the 11th Circuit used Lemon to respond.

The first prong of the Lemon test requires that the challenged statute have a “clearly secular purpose” … However, the statute’s purpose need not be exclusively secular… A statute violates the Establishment Clause if it is “entirely motivated by a purpose to advance religion” …

To ascertain a statute’s purpose, it is, of course, necessary to examine the language of the statute on its face… It is also appropriate to consider the legislative history of the statute and the specific sequence of events leading up to the adoption of the statute.  

The Court cites both the law itself and its context and presentation by way of establishing that the law explicitly avoids promoting religious activities during this magical minute. At the same time, should a child choose to bow their head or clutch their rosary beads during the moment of life-altering focus and de-violencing, the state may not discourage them from so doing. 

The Court specifically addresses the difference in dynamics between this situation and Jaffree – largely distinguished by what was said in debates leading up to passage, and contemporaneous legislation with similar goals. 

Issues involving motivation or purpose of pro-religious legislation are sometimes determinative, sometimes merely a factor in the larger discussion, and (especially recently) sometimes completely ignored altogether. Nevertheless, just to be safe, lawmakers are highly encouraged to be completely disingenuous when proposing and debating such legislation in order to assure they pass judicial muster. They needn’t feel bad. It’s like Jesus said, “You must obscure the truth, because the truth will just get in the way.”

In Jaffree, the primary sponsor of the Alabama statute and the Governor of Alabama both explicitly conceded that the purpose of the Alabama statute was to return prayer to the Alabama schools, and Alabama failed to present any evidence of a secular purpose… In contrast, in this case, the primary sponsor of the Act indicated that the Act had a secular purpose. 

It is true, as Bown argues, that some legislators expressed the desire to return prayer to Georgia’s schools and supported the Act for this reason. However, it is also true that other legislators felt that the Act did not involve school prayer…

You get the idea. 

Under the second prong of the Lemon test, a statute violates the Establishment Clause if its primary effect is to advance or inhibit religion…

The announcement made over the school intercom by Principal Hendrix indicated only that there would be a moment of silence to reflect on the day’s activities. This announcement in no way suggested that students should or should not pray silently during the moment of quiet reflection… 

There is no indication in this case that any teacher encouraged prayer in violation of the guidelines stated in the Administrative Bulletin. There is no evidence in this case that any students were exhorted to pray, favored for praying, or disfavored for not praying…

The Court then contrasts this dynamic with situations in which students may feel indirectly, if not explicitly, coerced, such as in Lee v. Weisman (1992) and finds they’re not at all similar. There’s no advancement of religion here. 

The third prong of the Lemon test dictates that the statute must not foster an excessive government entanglement with religion… 

We conclude that there is no excessive entanglement in this case. 

Yeah, that was going to be a tough sell at best. 

All that the Act requires is that the students and the teacher in charge remain silent during the moment of quiet reflection. Teachers are not required to participate in or lead prayers, nor are they required to review the content of prayers during the moment of quiet reflection…

They’re not only “not required;” they’re specifically prohibited from so doing. 

The fact that a teacher must stop a student who prays audibly or otherwise makes noise during the moment of quiet reflection does not result in excessive government entanglement with religion. There are many times during any given school day when teachers tell their students to be quiet and when audible activity of any kind is not permitted. The fact that this particular period of silence is mandated statewide does not create entanglement problems.

A few short years later, Virginia took their turn. The resulting case, Brown v. Gilmore (2001), was heard and decided by the Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals and the outcome was basically the same. It’s notable for being the first instance I’ve come across of the specific phrasing used by many state legislatures since, including Oklahoma’s. Here’s how Oklahoma’s statute reads, in case you’re curious:

The board of education of each school district shall ensure that the public schools within the district observe approximately one minute of silence each day for the purpose of allowing each student, in the exercise of his or her individual choice, to reflect, meditate, pray, or engage in any other silent activity that does not interfere with, distract, or impede other students in the exercise of their individual choices.

But there’s more…

The Attorney General of the State of Oklahoma is hereby authorized to intervene in any legal proceeding to enforce the provisions of this act and shall represent any school district or employee named as a defendant therein.

Ha! Defensive, much?

Several similar cases have produced comparable results in other federal courts. They each have their own quirks, but the pattern is clear. 

With the sudden national lurch to the right (and away from even token concern with civil liberties or the sincerity of inflicted faith), it remains to be seen what may come next. For now, however, the “moment of silence” – a pointless exercise designed only to allow legislators to walk right up to that line separating church and state and kick dirt on its trousers – is on solid constitutional ground. 

Presumably this is already rolling back forty years of decadence and cultural decline. If not, we might have to up it to two minutes.

RELATED POST: A Wall of Separation – Wallace v. Jaffree (1985)

RELATED POST: Building A Wall of Separation (Faith & School)

RELATED POST: A Wall of Separation (Court Cases Involving Church and State)

A Wall of Separation – Bown v. Gwinnett County School District (1997)

Two cases in the early 1960s largely eliminated state-sponsored prayer from public schooling. Engel v. Vitale (1962) and Abington v. Schempp (1963) are to this day touted by the far right as responsible for having kicked God out of schools – leading inevitably to sex, drugs, violence, rock’n’roll, corduroy, divorce, the pill, AIDS, the Clintons, terrorism, and a Kenyan sleeper-cell Mooslim illegitimately seizing the White House for eight long, painful years. 

The solution, of course, is to get God back IN our schools by requiring regimented recitation of state-approved chants. He LOVES those! Do this, we are assured, and America’s problems will vanish faster than you can say “civil liberties!” 

Alabama led the way in the 1980s with a series of legislation which eventually led to Wallace v. Jaffree (1985), the only “Moment of Silence” case to reach the Supreme Court to date. The Court determined that the state could mandate a “moment of silence” during the school day, but could not lead or even encourage prayer during that time. 

The goals of Alabama’s legislation were no secret – state legislators ran on promises to get prayer back into schools, or as close as they could get it. That’s largely what stifled further establishment in Alabama – the Court refused to pretend the history and rhetoric associated with legislation didn’t exist while considering its constitutionality. 

Legislative leaders in other states took note and began exercising greater caution as they argued for moments of silence of their own. Suddenly this 60-second period would promote non-violence and academic reflection and gluten-free living and all sorts of things. 

A decade after Wallace, Georgia passed its own version of a “moment of silence.” It was challenged by a classroom teacher and ended up in the Eleventh Circuit Court of Appeals as Bown v. Gwinnett County School District (1997). The Court determined that the Moment of Quiet Reflection in Schools Act did NOT violate the Establishment Clause. 

The Court’s written opinion is unremarkable, but includes some details of note, such as this bit from what they call the Act’s “uncodified preamble”:

The General Assembly finds that in today’s hectic society, all too few of our citizens are able to experience even a moment of quiet reflection before plunging headlong into the day’s activities. Our young citizens are particularly affected by this absence of an opportunity for a moment of quiet reflection. The General Assembly finds that our young, and society as a whole, would be well served if students were afforded a moment of quiet reflection at the beginning of each day in the public schools.

It’s an absurd bit of glossy nonsense, but it’s constitutional nonsense. We could all probably benefit from drinking more water as well, but I notice no one’s mandating a moment of refreshing hydration each morning. I’m just saying. 

Also in the ‘History of the Case’:

Senator David Scott, the primary sponsor of the Act… represented an urban district in Atlanta, Georgia. He was the Chairman of the Senate Education Committee… and a member of the State Violence Task Force Committee to prevent violence in schools. Senator Scott introduced {the Moment of Silence bill} as a part of a package of legislation aimed at reducing violence among Georgia’s youths.

I realize I’m a bit cynical, but 60 seconds of mandatory head-bowing seems a poor substitute for addressing poverty, mental health, drug addiction, sexual abuse, etc. But perhaps I assume too much. 

Senator Scott had observed that after several killings on school campuses, students came together to have a moment of silent reflection. Noting that this moment of silence seemed to be beneficial and calming, Senator Scott believed that providing students with an opportunity for silent introspection at the beginning of each school day would help to combat violence among Georgia’s students.

I guess we’re lucky Georgia didn’t mandate a daily mock funeral ceremony using the same reasoning. 

During debates over the bill, some state legislators liked it specifically because it was a step towards school prayer. Others opposed it for the same reason. Wisely, many in favor of the bill went on record arguing that it didn’t promote school prayer or have any religious purpose at all. That gave the Court enough cover as to the purpose of the bill that they could in good conscience consider it “religiously neutral.” 

The teacher who initiated the case, Brian Brown, argued that the law violated the Establishment Clause and cited the “Lemon Test” to prove it. No surprise, then, that the 11th Circuit uses Lemon to respond.

The first prong of the Lemon test requires that the challenged statute have a “clearly secular purpose” … However, the statute’s purpose need not be exclusively secular… A statute violates the Establishment Clause if it is “entirely motivated by a purpose to advance religion” …

To ascertain a statute’s purpose, it is, of course, necessary to examine the language of the statute on its face… It is also appropriate to consider the legislative history of the statute and the specific sequence of events leading up to the adoption of the statute.  

The Court cites both the law itself and its context and presentation by way of establishing that the law explicitly avoids promoting religious activities during this magical minute. At the same time, should a child choose to bow their head or clutch their rosary beads during the moment of life-altering, the state may not discourage them from so doing. 

The Court specifically addresses the difference in dynamics between this situation and Wallace. It’s largely a matter of what was said in debates leading up to passage, and surrounding legislation with similar goals. 

I cannot emphasize this enough. All subsequent efforts to nudge religious rituals back into government schooling will be made with an awareness that public arguments and discussions may be factored in to any resulting constitutional challenges. Lawmakers are essentially encouraged to be disingenuous if they wish to pass judicial muster. 

In Jaffree, the primary sponsor of the Alabama statute and the Governor of Alabama both explicitly conceded that the purpose of the Alabama statute was to return prayer to the Alabama schools, and Alabama failed to present any evidence of a secular purpose… In contrast, in this case, the primary sponsor of the Act indicated that the Act had a secular purpose. 

It is true, as Bown argues, that some legislators expressed the desire to return prayer to Georgia’s schools and supported the Act for this reason. However, it is also true that other legislators felt that the Act did not involve school prayer…

You get the idea. 

Under the second prong of the Lemon test, a statute violates the Establishment Clause if its primary effect is to advance or inhibit religion…

The announcement made over the school intercom by Principal Hendrix indicated only that there would be a moment of silence to reflect on the day’s activities. This announcement in no way suggested that students should or should not pray silently during the moment of quiet reflection… 

There is no indication in this case that any teacher encouraged prayer in violation of the guidelines stated in the Administrative Bulletin. There is no evidence in this case that any students were exhorted to pray, favored for praying, or disfavored for not praying…

The Court then contrasts this dynamic with situations in which students may feel indirectly, if not explicitly, coerced, such as in Lee v. Weisman (1992) and finds they’re not at all similar. There’s no advancement of religion here. 

The third prong of the Lemon test dictates that the statute must not foster an excessive government entanglement with religion… 

We conclude that there is no excessive entanglement in this case. 

Yeah, that was going to be a tough sell at best. 

All that the Act requires is that the students and the teacher in charge remain silent during the moment of quiet reflection. Teachers are not required to participate in or lead prayers, nor are they required to review the content of prayers during the moment of quiet reflection…

They’re not only “not required;” they’re specifically prohibited from so doing. 

The fact that a teacher must stop a student who prays audibly or otherwise makes noise during the moment of quiet reflection does not result in excessive government entanglement with religion. There are many times during any given school day when teachers tell their students to be quiet and when audible activity of any kind is not permitted. The fact that this particular period of silence is mandated statewide does not create entanglement problems.

A few short years later, Virginia took their turn. The resulting case, Brown v. Gilmore (2001), was heard and decided by the Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals and the outcome was basically the same. Several others have produced comparable results in other federal courts. They each have their own quirks, but the pattern is clear. 

With the recent lurch of all three branches to the right, and away from even token concern with civil liberties or sincere belief, it’s hard to guess what may come next. But for now, the “moment of silence” – a pointless exercise designed only to allow legislators to walk right up to that line separating church and state and kick dirt on its trousers – is on solid constitutional ground. 

It remains to be seen whether the practice is sufficient to roll back forty years of decadence and cultural decline. We might have to up it to two minutes.