John Whitehead's Commentary
Are the Ten Commandments the Answer to What Ails America?
In the past several years, the ACLU and Americans United for the Separation of Church and State have launched a concerted effort to challenge the constitutionality of monuments containing the Ten Commandments in courthouses and public places across the country.
The U.S. Supreme Court, within the past year, has dodged the bullet and refused to hear appeals from two lower court decisions holding that the display of the Ten Commandments was unconstitutional.
But the debate has not been limited to displays of the Decalogue on state lawns and courthouses. One Washington, D.C. nonprofit has been working to persuade the U.S. Post Office to create a stamp depicting Moses holding the tablets. And several Christian-based organizations have tried distributing Ten Commandments schoolbook covers to students in designated areas on and off campus.
Even the House of Representatives is getting in on the act. Declaring that "the Ten Commandments have had a significant impact on the development of the fundamental legal principles on which Western civilization and the United States are based" and "are a code of moral conduct, observance of which promotes a peaceful and organized society," the House introduced a resolution on February 6, 2002, to require their display in the chambers of the House of Representatives and the Senate.
Which brings us to the question of why this particular issue--more so than any other issue of concern right now--seems to be such a hotbed of controversy. What is the magic formula seemingly embodied within the display of the Ten Commandments that so many individuals, from political to spiritual leaders, are putting time and money on the line to see them posted?
For many Americans, mention of the Ten Commandments brings to mind Cecil B. DeMille's epic Hollywood blockbuster starring Charleton Heston as the stern looking, long-haired, tablet-toting Moses. DeMille's first Ten Commandments film, a silent version made in 1923 (with Theodore Roberts as Moses), reportedly broke every attendance record in existence and actually inspired a number of young men to become rabbis, priests and ministers.
But it was the 1956 film, nominated for seven Academy Awards, that started the monument frenzy. DeMille, determined to stir up publicity for the release of his multi-million-dollar epic, joined forces with E. J. Reugemer, a Minnesota juvenile court judge and member of the Fraternal Order of Eagles, who had been trying to post copies of the Ten Commandments in juvenile courts since the 1940s. Reugemer's rationale was that the Commandments would provide troubled youth with some sort of moral foundation.
So following in the spirit of Reugemer's efforts to provide communities--and troubled youth--with a moral foundation, many of the monuments that are now under attack were donated to their respective communities by the Fraternal Order of Eagles in the 1950s and '60s.
Perhaps it was this same logic that propelled Rep. Bob Barr (R-Ga.) to make the unfortunate comment several years ago that "[i]f the Ten Commandments had been posted at Columbine High School, the April 20 massacre would never have happened."
It is declarations like Barr's that deepen the rift between individuals who believe religion has a place in public life and those who would relegate it to the sanctity of Sunday mornings in church. Obviously, the Ten Commandments have no magical power to prevent tragedy or stave off moral turpitude. On being asked in a Time.com poll whether posting the Ten Commandments in schools would have a positive effect on youth crime, 65 percent of those surveyed said no.
Yet I don't believe that the majority of individuals trying to post the Ten Commandments in public places are attempting to force their religious beliefs on other people. Rather, they seem to recognize that something vital is missing in our society, our families and our educational system.
That something is a sense of morals, an awareness of right and wrong. And to these individuals, the Ten Commandments represent a respect for life and one another, something sorely lacking in our society today.
But the Decalogue is no quick-fix solution to what ails America. They are no more and no less than a list of moral laws. Don't put any other god before God. Don't worship idols. Don't take God's name in vain. Observe the Sabbath day. Honor your parents. Don't kill. Don't commit adultery. Don't steal. Don't lie. Don't desire your neighbor's things.
Those who are opposed to any mention of God in public places focus on the first four commandments as demonstrating a clear establishment of religion by government. But it is the message of the last six, which are more secular and form the basis of much of our modern codes of criminal conduct, that advocates hope will have the greatest impact.
In the end, this debate really has less to do with religion than it does with reaching out to our young people with messages of truth, respect and morality--messages that used to be imparted in the home around the dinner table, at church, on road trips and on family vacations.
Whether we post the Ten Commandments in a courthouse or in a classroom, hearts and minds and lifestyles will not change until we can find a better way to communicate these principles to our young people. So isn't it time we cut through the layers of political maneuvering and church-state bickering and talk about the real issues at stake here?
The U.S. Supreme Court, within the past year, has dodged the bullet and refused to hear appeals from two lower court decisions holding that the display of the Ten Commandments was unconstitutional.
But the debate has not been limited to displays of the Decalogue on state lawns and courthouses. One Washington, D.C. nonprofit has been working to persuade the U.S. Post Office to create a stamp depicting Moses holding the tablets. And several Christian-based organizations have tried distributing Ten Commandments schoolbook covers to students in designated areas on and off campus.
Even the House of Representatives is getting in on the act. Declaring that "the Ten Commandments have had a significant impact on the development of the fundamental legal principles on which Western civilization and the United States are based" and "are a code of moral conduct, observance of which promotes a peaceful and organized society," the House introduced a resolution on February 6, 2002, to require their display in the chambers of the House of Representatives and the Senate.
Which brings us to the question of why this particular issue--more so than any other issue of concern right now--seems to be such a hotbed of controversy. What is the magic formula seemingly embodied within the display of the Ten Commandments that so many individuals, from political to spiritual leaders, are putting time and money on the line to see them posted?
For many Americans, mention of the Ten Commandments brings to mind Cecil B. DeMille's epic Hollywood blockbuster starring Charleton Heston as the stern looking, long-haired, tablet-toting Moses. DeMille's first Ten Commandments film, a silent version made in 1923 (with Theodore Roberts as Moses), reportedly broke every attendance record in existence and actually inspired a number of young men to become rabbis, priests and ministers.
But it was the 1956 film, nominated for seven Academy Awards, that started the monument frenzy. DeMille, determined to stir up publicity for the release of his multi-million-dollar epic, joined forces with E. J. Reugemer, a Minnesota juvenile court judge and member of the Fraternal Order of Eagles, who had been trying to post copies of the Ten Commandments in juvenile courts since the 1940s. Reugemer's rationale was that the Commandments would provide troubled youth with some sort of moral foundation.
So following in the spirit of Reugemer's efforts to provide communities--and troubled youth--with a moral foundation, many of the monuments that are now under attack were donated to their respective communities by the Fraternal Order of Eagles in the 1950s and '60s.
Perhaps it was this same logic that propelled Rep. Bob Barr (R-Ga.) to make the unfortunate comment several years ago that "[i]f the Ten Commandments had been posted at Columbine High School, the April 20 massacre would never have happened."
It is declarations like Barr's that deepen the rift between individuals who believe religion has a place in public life and those who would relegate it to the sanctity of Sunday mornings in church. Obviously, the Ten Commandments have no magical power to prevent tragedy or stave off moral turpitude. On being asked in a Time.com poll whether posting the Ten Commandments in schools would have a positive effect on youth crime, 65 percent of those surveyed said no.
Yet I don't believe that the majority of individuals trying to post the Ten Commandments in public places are attempting to force their religious beliefs on other people. Rather, they seem to recognize that something vital is missing in our society, our families and our educational system.
That something is a sense of morals, an awareness of right and wrong. And to these individuals, the Ten Commandments represent a respect for life and one another, something sorely lacking in our society today.
But the Decalogue is no quick-fix solution to what ails America. They are no more and no less than a list of moral laws. Don't put any other god before God. Don't worship idols. Don't take God's name in vain. Observe the Sabbath day. Honor your parents. Don't kill. Don't commit adultery. Don't steal. Don't lie. Don't desire your neighbor's things.
Those who are opposed to any mention of God in public places focus on the first four commandments as demonstrating a clear establishment of religion by government. But it is the message of the last six, which are more secular and form the basis of much of our modern codes of criminal conduct, that advocates hope will have the greatest impact.
In the end, this debate really has less to do with religion than it does with reaching out to our young people with messages of truth, respect and morality--messages that used to be imparted in the home around the dinner table, at church, on road trips and on family vacations.
Whether we post the Ten Commandments in a courthouse or in a classroom, hearts and minds and lifestyles will not change until we can find a better way to communicate these principles to our young people. So isn't it time we cut through the layers of political maneuvering and church-state bickering and talk about the real issues at stake here?
ABOUT JOHN W. WHITEHEAD
Constitutional attorney and author John W. Whitehead is founder and president of The Rutherford Institute. His most recent books are the best-selling Battlefield America: The War on the American People, the award-winning A Government of Wolves: The Emerging American Police State, and a debut dystopian fiction novel, The Erik Blair Diaries. Whitehead can be contacted at staff@rutherford.org. Nisha Whitehead is the Executive Director of The Rutherford Institute. Information about The Rutherford Institute is available at www.rutherford.org.
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