Would You Sign It?

Should creationism be banned from schools?  Intelligent design?

That’s the question posed by a new petition on the White House’s website.

As of this morning, the petition has garnered 7,662 signatures.  It only needs 92,338 more by July 15 to earn an official response.

The language seems mild to an evolution believer like me:

Since Darwin’s groundbreaking theory of Evolution by Natural Selection, scientists all around the world have found monumental amounts of evidence in favor of the theory, now treated as scientific fact by 99.9% of all scientists.

However, even after 150 years after the establishment of evolution, some schools across the US are “teaching the controversy,” including Creationism and Intelligent Design. Both of these so-called “theories” have no basis in scientific fact, and have absolutely zero evidence pointing towards these conjectures. These types of loopholes in our education are partially to blame for our dangerously low student performances in math and science.

Therefore, we petition the Obama Administration to ban the teachings of these conjectures that contradict Evolution.

I agree with these sentiments.  Though there are legitimate scientific questions about evolution, such questions do not merit teaching evolution as merely a “controversy.”  Evolution is a fundamental idea about science and deserves to be taught as such in public schools.

However, I think this talk of a “ban” misses the point.  The religious notions of creationism and intelligent design are already banned in public schools.  This kind of anti-creationist activism only antagonizes the substantial number of Americans who sympathize with religious explanations of the origins of life.  Antagonizes without purpose.

In the pages of the Christian Post, for example, young-earth creationist Ken Ham correctly pointed out that the petition could never have any real impact on the teaching of creationism.  The petition only proved, Ham insisted, “the intolerance of evolutionist activists who do not want to see any challenge to their deeply held secularist worldview.”  Since the petition did not specify public schools, Ham argued, this petition can be seen as an aggressive attempt to dictate the teaching even of religious private schools.

Similarly, John West of the Discovery Institute, an intelligent-design think-tank, called the petition “ill-informed, confused, and beside the point.”

I don’t want to see creationism of any sort taught in public schools.  But I agree here with West and Ham.  This petition looks like another well-meaning but ill-considered scheme by overzealous anti-creationists.

Would you sign it?

CSCOPE and the Dustbin of History

CSCOPE is dead.

Anyone who hopes to understand the sort of conservative crusade that killed CSCOPE should draw two lessons from the news.

First: Historians should be invited to more dinner parties.

Second: The question is not why CSCOPE was suddenly targeted, but rather why so many Americans are so deeply suspicious of educational experts.

But before we talk about such things, an update: As reported by the Houston Chronicle and Texas Freedom Network Insider, leading Texas politicians announced a few weeks back that the suddenly controversial curriculum management system would no longer be offering lesson plans for Texas school districts.

CSCOPE had come under attack from conservatives in Texas and around the country as promoting a witches’ brew of “progressive,” “Marxist,” “pro-Islam” ideas for Texas schools.  Liberals such as those at the Texas Freedom Network complained in exasperated tones about an irrational “witch hunt” against lessons that had been used without controversy for years.

What does any of this have to do with the loneliness of historians?  The book I’m now finishing looks at the 20th-century history of this sort of school controversy.  Again and again, conservatives discover that the teaching in their schools has been infiltrated by nefarious ideas such as evolution, socialism, progressivism, or filthy sex and violence.  In each case, once a set of textbooks or curricular program gained attention as an example of such ideas, it was quickly tossed out by conservative activists.

I hate to quote myself, but in this case an historian’s perspective makes this outcome seem predictable. As I noted a few weeks back, “CSCOPE might offer an ideologically balanced, pedagogically efficient way for Texas school districts to streamline their teaching systems.  But once it has acquired the reputation for leftist indoctrination, the writing is on the wall.”

This is why historians should be invited to more parties.  Especially if there is food.  Not because historians can predict the future.  Every case is different. But an historical perspective eliminates much of the surprise of unfolding events.  For those who know the 20th-century history of conservative activism in America’s schools, the anti-CSCOPE crusade seems remarkably predictable.

Another important lesson should be drawn from the premature death of CSCOPE.  The career of CSCOPE illustrates the profound cultural divide at the heart of America’s continuing educational culture wars.   Personally, I sympathize with the liberal critics of the Texas Freedom Network, who noted that many of the attacks against CSCOPE seemed “bizarre” or “paranoid.”  As a parent and citizen, I worry about the exaggerated attacks made on this curricular program.

Such attacks, however, must be understood as an irruption of a profound suspicion among Americans about what any outside interference in public school curricula.  Like other commentators, I am deeply skeptical about claims that CSCOPE was a vast conspiracy to subvert patriotic Christian values in Texas public schools.  But the important question is not why this particular program was targeted for attack after years of controversy-free use in schools. The question, rather, is why so many Texans jumped so quickly to join the anti-CSCOPE bandwagon.

This has been the case with every curriculum controversy in the past.  As historians Charles Dorn[1] and Jonathan Zimmerman[2] pointed out about the Rugg textbook controversy in the 1940s, though the Rugg textbooks were banished, similar books continued to be used widely.

In the Kanawha County blow-up of the 1970s, the same sentiment surfaced.  What had seemed like a humdrum approval process for a new set of reading textbooks became a violent struggle over the content of the curriculum.  In that case as in this, many observers scratched their heads and wondered why these particular books had suddenly become such lightning rods.

The depressing truth is that most Americans are deeply skeptical about the intentions of the people who write the books and lesson plans for our public schools.  With curricular materials such as CSCOPE, the Rugg textbooks, or the Interaction series adopted in Kanawha County, as soon as materials were accused of subversion, many Americans believed it.  As conservative leader Elmer Fike explained about the Kanawha County books, “You don’t have to read the textbooks.  If you’ve read anything that the radicals have been putting out in the last few years, that was what was in the textbooks.”[3]

The sudden outrage against CSCOPE shows us this same dynamic at work.  In Texas as in the rest of our nation, a politically powerful plurality are willing to believe outlandish accusations against relatively bland curricular materials.  Though the books and lessons themselves may be moderate in tone, a significant number of parents and politicians are quick to believe they have set out to destroy America.

Why did CSCOPE meet such a sudden and violent premature death?  Because for generations, a significant proportion of Americans have looked with grave suspicion at the intentions of “experts” who write such classroom materials.  Parents are not surprised to hear that textbooks contain hateful language and shocking subversion.  Such accusations confirm what too many parents already believe.

We will not understand the CSCOPE story, nor the similar stories sure to come in future years, unless we grapple with the fact that many parents maintain an awkward ambivalence toward public education.  Many parents may approve of their local schools, but they feel a need to defend those schools from the control of grasping autocrats at far-flung universities and think-tanks.  At the bitter heart of the CSCOPE saga lodges the uncomfortable truth that Americans do not trust educational experts.

 

 


[1] Charles Dorn, “‘Treason in the Textbooks:’ Reinterpreting the Harold Rugg Textbook Controversy in the Context of Wartime Schooling,” Paedagogica Historica 44:4 (August 2008): 477.

[2] Jonathan Zimmerman, Whose America? Culture Wars in the Public Schools (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2002), 79.

[3] Quoted in James Moffett, Storm in the Mountains: A Case Study of Censorship, Conflict, and Consciousness (Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois University Press, 1988), 70.

Not Jesus OR Evolution, Jesus AND Evolution

What dead-end questions do we keep asking in our continuing creation/evolution debates?

  • What does real science say?
  • What does real religion require?
  • What does the Bible mean?
  • How does the evidence prove the claims of Darwin?

As we’ve seen recently, smart people can bump heads endlessly on these questions without ever convincing one another.  As I argued in my 1920s book, these go-nowhere debates have been going on for almost a century.

More evidence today that the real question we should be asking is different.  Instead of asking about true religion or true science, it seems the real question is simpler:

  • Who am I?

A piece on the BioLogos Forum recently demonstrates the centrality of this basic question to attitudes about evolution and creation.

Geochemist Steven M. Smith relates his story.  For followers of the creation/evolution controversy, it is a familiar one.  An earnest young Young Earth Creationist sees the scientific evidence for a young earth.  This evidence brings on not only a scientific or religious crisis, but an existential one.  As Smith relates, his young self felt forced to choose between his Christian identity and the unassailable evidence of science.

For Smith, it was Christian support, including the “Christ-like” model of a Christian academic mentor that convinced him that he could be both Christian and scientific.

Smith’s story is not an outlier.  As anthropologist and science educator David Long argued so convincingly in his book Evolution and Religion in American Education, the central question for most students is not one of scientific evidence or religious belief.  The real question is one of identity.  Evidence that contradicts deeply held beliefs can trigger an existential crisis.  Though a few extraordinary individuals might pull off a wholesale revolution in their understandings of their selves, most people reject the evidence and stick with their well-established identities.  In the case of Long’s study of biology students at a large secular public university, most students from creationist backgrounds did not “convert” to belief in evolution.

As Steven Smith’s story suggests, simply pouring more science on people will not make much of a difference.  If we want to promote more and better evolution education, we need to consider the profound implications of evolution for the identities of many creationists.  An acceptance of evolution, for many, is not simply an acquiescence to evidence.  Instead, unless and until they find a way to construct an identity consonant with both their religion and the scientific evidence, it would entail a wholesale revolution in their understandings of themselves.

If we want more people, more creationists, to accept the evidence for an old earth and common ancestry of species, it makes sense to support those religious folks who can help create and promote such identities.

 

A Conservative Plea for the Common Core

Don’t throw the conservative baby out with the Common Core bathwater. That’s the plea this morning from two leading conservative intellectuals.

Writing in the Weekly Standard, Chester Finn Jr. and Michael Petrilli rally conservative support for the new standards.

As we’ve noted in these pages, all sorts of conservative activists, from Phyllis Schlafly to the Heritage Foundation to the Tea Party, have denounced the centralizing tendencies of the Common Core.

The conservative credentials of Finn and Petrilli are difficult to dispute.  Both have long been leading voices for the movement to introduce market choices into public education and reduce the influence of unions and left-leaning schools of education.  Both have worked in conservative think tanks and conservative political administrations to fight for such measures.

They want conservatives to embrace the Common Core as the best available program to heal public education.  As they argue,

the fact that Obama thinks well of it doesn’t means there’s anything (else) wrong with it. This is understood by the many respected conservatives who back the Common Core, including such scarred veterans of the education-reform wars as Jeb Bush, Bill Bennett, John Engler, Chris Christie, Mike Huckabee, Sonny Perdue, Bobby Jindal, Rod Paige, and Mitch Daniels. They realize that academic standards are only the beginning, setting out a destination but not how to get there. They understand, however, that a destination worth reaching beats aimless wandering—and a big modern country is better off if it knows how all its kids and schools are doing against a rigorous set of shared expectations for the three R’s.

Finn and Petrilli offer three specific ways to use the Common Core to best conservative advantage.  Conservatives, they insist,

should maximize the good it can do and minimize its potential harm. Here are three useful steps:

  • Draw a bright line between the standards and the federal government. (Iowa Senator Chuck Grassley is onto one approach with his proposal to ban any further federal spending related to the Common Core.)

  • Overhaul No Child Left Behind as proposed by Senator Lamar Alexander and House education committee chairman John Kline, in effect rolling back the regulatory regime that has turned results-based school accountability into Uncle Sam’s business. (The tighten-the-screws alternative advanced by Senate Democrats would entangle Washington even further with states’ standards and accountability systems—as well as much more mischief.)

  • Continue to push aggressively in dozens of states for more school choice, both public and private—and allow voucher schools (and maybe charters, too) to opt out of their states’ standards and tests (Common Core or otherwise) if they can present alternatives that are just as rigorous. (Disclosure: the co-authors of this piece are still tussling over this one!)

Finn and Petrilli base their argument on a conservative vision of the recent history of American education.  As I’ve argued in the pages of Teachers College Record, conservative school reform proposals, no less than progressive ones, depend on their own interpretations of American history.

In this case, Finn and Petrilli remind their fellow conservatives that the fundamental ideas embraced by the Common Core, including elevated academic standards as well as rigorous standardized testing, began as conservative responses to a public education system that had strayed from its true mission. In the 1970s, they recount, control over public education had been seized by well-meaning but short-sighted leftists who emphasized equity at the expense of rigor.  After 1983’s Nation at Risk report, bold conservative reformers such as Ronald Reagan, Lamar Alexander, and William J. Bennett took steps to reverse that curse.

The solutions back then included increased public money for private education as well as ambitious new standards.  To lend heft to such standards, iron-clad standardized tests hoped to limit the ways educational bureaucrats could game the system.

The Common Core, Finn and Petrilli insist, represent an imperfect attempt to impose those higher standards.  In the end, by providing better information about school performance to parents and policy makers, the standards will fuel the conservative drive for greater privatization of public education.

So what is a conservative to do?  According to these scholars, the real conservative choice is to back the Common Core.  As they conclude, conservatives who take time to read the standards themselves “will be impressed by their rigor, thoroughness, solidity, and ambition—even their ‘conservative’ nature.”

 

 

Rosenhouse Responds to a Critic

“Gall,” “tortured reasoning,” “gross theological ignorance,” and “demented” “troll[s].”  Discussions about creationism and evolution have it all!

A few days back, we posted a review of Jason Rosenhouse’s Among the Creationists.  As usual, any mention of this subject generated some heated comments.

This morning, Professor Rosenhouse offered a rebuttal of some of the critical comments.  He responded to the charges that he had misrepresented creationist claims, among others.

Everyone interested in the creation/evolution debate should check out his reply.

Can Public Schools Be a “Mission Field” without the “Mission?”

Can Christian evangelicals do their thing in public schools?  Does the Constitution allow public schools to be used as a “mission field” for Christian service work?

Religion writer Tom Krattenmaker offered some thoughts yesterday about Christian missionaries offering service to local public schools.  But can their best intentions get past the fraught relationship between conservative evangelicals and the wall of separation between church and state?

Krattenmaker describes the work of Nicole Baker Fulgham, former Teach for America leader and author of Educating All God’s Children.

Fulgham and other young evangelicals hope to improve public education.  They argue that Christians can serve the poor and needy in their communities by making public schools better.  Such mission work, Fulgham argues, can leave out the proselytization and stick to the nuts-and-bolts issues of keeping the lights on and the hallways clean.

As Krattenmaker describes,

Fulgham and her work exemplify a new kind of evangelical engagement with public schools that is dedicated solely to helping kids rather than arguing over school prayer, evangelism, and other culture war flash points.

Krattenmaker thinks the approach has promise.  He describes efforts in which evangelical congregations “adopt” local public schools, cleaning up the grounds, providing free clothing to students, and generally making the school a better place without preaching or Bible thumping.

Krattenmaker admits that these are small, isolated efforts, but he has hopes this kind of thing can turn the culture-war tide.  As he argues, “These [evangelical volunteers] are people with whom nonreligious progressives and liberal people of faith can form partnerships and coalitions for the common good.”

Can it work?  Can Fulgham’s vision of servant leadership really thrive in public schools?

Logically, perhaps.  But given the history of conservative evangelical Christians and America’s public schools, my hunch is that suspicion will trump hope.

One problem is that Krattenmaker misunderstands or misrepresents the relationship between conservative evangelical Protestants and public schools.  Krattenmaker argues that evangelicals have abandoned public schools due to worries about secularism, sex ed, and evolution.

Some evangelicals have, but as a group evangelicals have never given up on reaching students for Christ in public schools.  And most “nonreligious progressives and liberal people of faith,” I’m guessing, will have longer memories than Krattenmaker recognizes.

In this century, to cite just one example, Marc Fey of the conservative Focus on the Family declared that public schools represent “one of the greatest mission fields in our country today.”[1]

Fey wanted to get Christians into public schools, too, but with the explicit intention of reaching students for Jesus.

This evangelical attitude toward public education has a long and powerful tradition.  Consider these words from a 1980s school-evangelism training manual from the evangelical group Youth For Christ:

There it looms—a huge, humming, hostile high school.  Hundreds, thousands of students, a professional corps of teachers and administrators, all busily turning the wheels of secular education.

To you, it’s a mission field.  It has masses of kids who need spiritual help, even though most of them don’t know it.  You and the Lord have decided to invade that field through the strategy called Campus Life.[2]

Youth For Christ’s public-school evangelism targeted public schools since the 1950s. As one participant remembered from an outreach project in suburban Chicago in the late 1960s,

There were 55 kids jammed into the classroom. We divided up into six groups.  They were desperately asking God, ‘Please use our lives.  Please, God, give me guts enough to talk to kids in the hall.’

They went out with this enthusiasm.  I can remember in speech class kids standing up and saying, ‘The greatest thrill in my life was when I accepted Jesus Christ as my own personal Saviour.’  I can remember Bruce’s brother standing up (his knees were beating a bass drum solo) and saying, ‘You know I have a pretty good police record with some of you kids in this room, but I want you to know that Christ has changed my life and it’s different now.’[3]

For teen evangelists like this, public schools represented an opportunity for service, as well. But that service was tied to the traditional evangelical goal of, well, evangelism.  And such explicitly evangelistic efforts will run into furious opposition in many American public schools.

Does this history mean that Fulgham’s service approach won’t work?  Not necessarily.  What it does mean, however, is that Christian evangelists who hope to get into public schools to help students will face hostility and skepticism from those outside the evangelical community.

Krattenmaker assumes too glibly that non-evangelicals will happily let bygones be bygones. I’m not so sure. 

There are few creatures more averse to controversy than public-school administrators.  Some may be willing to open their school doors to willing servants of any background.  But I imagine the history of public-school evangelism will prove a poison pill to outreach programs like the ones Krattenmaker describes. 


 


[1] Marc Fey, review of Reclaim Your School, Pacific Justice Institute website, http://www.pacificjustice.org/reclaim-your-school.html; <accessed 11 June 2013>.

[2] Campus Life Operations Manual, Third Edition (Wheaton, IL: Youth for Christ USA, 1988), 19.77.

[3] Quoted in James Hefley, God Goes to High School (Waco, TX: Word Books, 1970), 125.

Jesus and the Ivy League

Religious conservatives often insist that America’s colleges and universities used to be “our schools.”

For example, Protestant fundamentalist educational writer A. A. “Buzz” Baker pointed out in the 1970s that, although “it may come as a surprise to some,” most of America’s leading colleges “used to be ‘our’ schools.”[1]  Similarly, B. Gray Allison, a conservative evangelical from Louisiana, noted in 1968 as campuses nationwide roiled with cultural conflict that not only Harvard, Yale, and Princeton began with explicitly religious missions, but “even the early state-supported institutions had a concern for the perpetuation of what might be termed religious culture.”[2]

Over at the inimitable The Way of Improvement Leads Home, historian John Fea offers some evidence from the archives to back up those assertions.

On March 19, 1761, Fea reports, the College of Philadelphia’s (the future Penn) Board of Trustees approved some student rules that might warm the heart of twenty-first century religious conservatives.

Every student had to attend chapel.  Slacking off or not paying attention during prayer or Bible readings could call for punishment.

Plus, no sauntering!  Check out Fea’s full post here.

 


[1] A.A. Baker, The Successful Christian School: Foundational Principles for Starting and Operating a Successful Christian School (Pensacola, FL: A Beka Book Publications, 1979), 34.

 

[2] B. Gray Allison, “The American Campus as a Spiritual Force,” Christianity Today 12 (May 10, 1968): 5.

 

What’s the Matter with Vermont? Nullification and the Politics of Public Schooling

Vermonters want out.  Some of them, at any rate.

In the pages of The American Conservative, Kirkpatrick Sale reviews a new volume about a surprisingly long-lived secessionist movement in the Green Mountain State.

What do the new nullifiers want?  According to Sale, the freedom-fighters depicted in Most Likely to Secede have several related goals.

Vermonters want to take back control from the federal government in such areas as food policy, gun control, marijuana laws, and, of most interest here, public education.

Learning, according to volume editor and essayist Ron Miller, can be done better in Vermont.  Learning can be liberated from costly and nonsensical federal mandates and standardized testing.

As quoted by Sale, Miller wants “holistic education . . . an educational culture that respects and encourages learning on a human scale, that supports caring and loving communities of learning.”

Such goals, Miller argues, put right-thinking Vermonters at odds with an “authoritarian educational policy” dictated by Washington DC.  Freedom will come from refusing federal dollars, so that Green Mountain schools can be liberated from the mandates of centralizing bureaucrats.

Does nullification stand a better chance in Vermont than it did in South Carolina?

When it comes to education policy, refusing federal dollars is a tall order for cash-strapped states.  This is especially true when the ultimate goal is as mushy as “holistic education.”  Conservatives of all stripes make a politically powerful argument when they advocate for direct local control of schooling, or when they fight to keep objectionable ideas out of local school curricula.

It is much harder to fight for local control when the goals of that control include a new vision of what education can be.  As historian Arthur Zilversmit demonstrated, anything new in schooling faces a brutal uphill battle.  As Zilversmit concluded, most Americans, presumably even in Vermont, share a “strange, emotional attachment to traditional schooling patterns” (page 169).

Independent schools, in Vermont or anywhere else, only stand a chance when they have independent funding.  That will not likely soon be the case for public schools in breakaway Vermont.

 

Creationists Are Right, Leading Atheist Concludes

Sorry for the overly dramatic headline. But that really is one of the conclusions of atheist mathematician Jason Rosenhouse.

They are not right that the earth is some 6,000 years old.  Nor are they correct that humans are the special beloved product of God’s magic touch.  But in his book Among the Creationists, Rosenhouse concludes that young-earth creationists are correct that the foundational idea of evolution poses a threat to the very core of Christian belief.

Get your copy today!

Get your copy today!

Rosenhouse’s book is required reading for any outsider who hopes to understand the world of American creationism in the twenty-first century.  Rosenhouse deliberately eschews the simple, satisfying approach of most outsiders.  He does not belittle or deride these ideas or their adherents, though he does forcefully argue against them.

As Rosenhouse describes, he is a mild-mannered mathematician with an unusual hobby.  For the past several years, he has attended creationist conferences and pored through creationist publications.  This experience did not soften Rosenhouse’s intellectual opinion about the scientific illegitimacy of creationism. But it did open his eyes to the galaxy of different types and approaches to creationism. And it convinced him of the overriding need to maintain civility, especially in these difficult discussions.

Indeed, some of the most illuminating parts of the book are the vignettes Rosenhouse includes.  In one story (pages 8-11), he describes an impromptu conversation in a Subway restaurant outside of one of the creationist conferences he attended.  Rosenhouse overheard a group of Christian creationists—a woman and some teenagers—talking about the strangeness of atheism.  He offered his conversational services as a real live atheist.  The young people seemed interested and willing to talk cordially. A nearby woman soon interrupted and warned the teenagers away from Rosenhouse, who she suggested had “been educat[ed] beyond [his] intelligence” (10).  In the end, though, the Christian busybody warmed up to Rosenhouse and even prayed for him.

Did anyone convince anyone else?  No.  But was this conversation worth having?  I think so. Rosenhouse reported feeling that the adults were occasionally rude in their obvious opinion that he was some sort of “zoo animal” (10).  But he also noted that creationists like the ones at Subway almost always remained cordial and even welcoming.  Was he likely to convert to creationism or conservative Protestantism?  Not at all.  But his understanding of the entire dilemma did change in important ways.  How about the people he spoke with? Were any of them likely to embrace the obvious truths of mainstream science? Also not likely.  But my hunch—and Rosenhouse’s—is that such friendly conversations with a real live atheist do a great deal to keep open the minds of creationists everywhere.  As Rosenhouse states, “any hope of doing long-term good comes from being scrupulously polite” (10).

Indeed, Rosenhouse occasionally takes “our side” to task for its own brand of ignorance. As he points out, “Insularity is a two-way street” (15).  If some of the ferocious anti-creationists out there took some time to find out more about the real world of American creationism, they would without a doubt be surprised at what they found. For one thing, with a few exceptions, Rosenhouse’s loud-and-proud scientific atheism was welcomed to these creationist conclaves with politeness and even intellectual excitement.  Second, creationism is a bigger tent than many outsiders understand. One creationist conference organizer, for instance, complained to Rosenhouse about the “piles of garbage” that passed as scholarship among creationists (14).

Throughout the book, Rosenhouse succeeds at illuminating the intellectual world of creationism.  He takes such beliefs seriously, while never granting them legitimacy as scientific ideas.  For example, Rosenhouse laments the “tiresome” assumptions of some of his non-creationist colleagues about the biblical beliefs of creationists (43). Rosenhouse carefully explains some of the ways creationists interpret the Bible.  The label “Literalism” does not do justice to this tradition.  For most creationists—or at least for the “mainstream” tradition of young-earth creationism—passages in the Bible should be taken at their obvious meaning.  If something is clearly meant as a parable, it should be read that way.  But readers should not add in baroque interpretive schemes to warp the Bible’s clear meaning into more culturally palatable explanations. As Rosenhouse concludes, Genesis really does support a YEC interpretation. There is not much in the text to suggest that these passages were meant to be read as anything but real descriptions of real historical events.  More provocatively, Rosenhouse challenges us non-creationists to grant creationists their fair treatment. If creationists’ dismissal of all evolutionary science is absurd, so it is arrogant and self-serving for us simply to dismiss such a widely held belief (159, 167).

For those who have not yet read this book, all this might make it sound as if Rosenhouse fell in love with creationism as he falls all over himself to find the tiniest points of agreement.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  Rosenhouse never grants the truth claims of creationists.  He sternly and repeatedly opposes both their notions and their tactics.  For instance, Rosenhouse revisits some of the oldest anti-creationism arguments.  Where did Cain get his wife? (164) Why do creationists only insist on some parts of Genesis, and not others?  Why, for example, do creationists not insist the earth is flat, with a dome-shaped covering? (163)  Just as a literal six-day creation seems to be the obvious interpretation of the Bible’s first lines, so a flat earth is the most near-to-hand interpretation of the text.  These old chestnuts, Rosenhouse argues, still have more than enough punch to deflate the most self-satisfied creation scientist.  More important, Rosenhouse points out that most creationist science is based on utterly false interpretations of basic concepts.  Even worse, creationists often suggest that evolution is only dominant due to a wide-ranging conspiracy, a claim Rosenhouse justly dismisses as pathetic (36).

Yet in spite of his firm opposition, Rosenhouse concludes that creationist reactions to the challenge of evolution are more intellectually respectable than those who try to marry creation and evolution. It makes no sense, Rosenhouse argues, to pretend that evolution does not fundamentally challenge traditional faith (219).  Some creationists respond in a way that makes sense; they reject evolution.  They may be entirely and sometimes cruelly wrong, Rosenhouse believes, but at least they have recognized the magnitude of the challenge posed to traditional Christian belief by evolution.

So stop reading this tripe and go get yourself a copy of Rosenhouse’s book.  For those of you who are creationists or recovering creationists, the volume will give you a sense of how the movement appears to a socially pleasant but intellectually hostile outsider. To us outsiders—liberals, scientists, and others who have only tangential knowledge about American creationism—this book is an absolute must read.  It joins other indispensable books in this field, such as Ron Numbers’ The Creationists, George Marsden’s Fundamentalism and American Culture, and Edward Larson’s Summer for the Gods as starting places to understand this durable culture war battlefield.

Valedictorian Prays at Graduation

May a high-school student pray at a public-school graduation?  No, at least not according to the US Supreme Court. 

But CAN a student do it?  Sure.  This week, valedictorian Roy Costner IV dramatically tore up his pre-approved speech and recited the Lord’s Prayer instead. 

As reported by a local TV station, the school district in Liberty, South Carolina had been feeling pressure from the American Civil Liberties Union to hew closer to the Constitutional line in the town’s attitude toward public religion.  They had warned Costner to keep his valedictory speech secular.  But Costner decided to flout their warnings.  According to Christian News, Costner recited his prayer as a protest against the school district’s recent decision to ban prayer at other official events. 

Many of the townspeople approved.  By the end of his prayer, the crowd’s cheers had grown loud enough to drown out Costner.  A few people interviewed by the local TV station also supported Costner’s decision.  “It was pretty impressive,” local man Brian Hoover noted.  “I thought the guy had a lot of nerve.”

Another local man agreed.  Logan Gibson told the reporter, “I think it took a lot of courage to do that and people were proud that he stood up for what he believed in.”