Law: Tilting At Secular Humanism

• Share

The scene evoked another sultry July day 61 years ago. Once again old-time religion and modern-day secularism prepared to duel at a controversial trial. One more time, the setting was a community nestled in the rolling landscape of eastern Tennessee's Bible Belt. The two contending legal titans at that first encounter, Clarence Darrow and William Jennings Bryan, are now part of history. Gone also is Science Teacher John Scopes, accused and eventually convicted of illegally teaching Darwin's theory of evolution, that humans and apes share a common ancestry. Still, the memory of the historic 1925 clash lingered as the crowd assembled in the high-ceilinged federal courtroom in Greeneville. What many have labeled the "monkey trial" of the 1980s was about to begin. The culprit this time: a series of textbooks used to teach grade schoolers how to read.

Last week a group of Fundamentalist Christian parents formally opened their legal attack against the Hawkins County public schools. Led by Vicki Frost, a 34-year-old mother of four, the Fundamentalists want to shield their children from basic readers put out by the publishing firm of Holt, Rinehart & Winston and used by 15,000 school districts in all 50 states. The group objects to the books in part because they "teach other forms of salvation, other than faith in Jesus Christ alone." The parents demand that their children be allowed to use alternative textbooks more in line with Fundamentalist beliefs.

Frost, who bore a copy of the Bible as she came to court, took the stand last week to inveigh against the textbooks' endorsement of what Fundamentalists call "secular humanism," a doctrine that, they charge, elevates man at the expense of God. Frost complained that the books promote pacifism, child rebellion, situational ethics and feminism. She censured readings that reverse traditional roles for boys and girls. She objected to a story for its line "language makes us human," explaining that the sentence implies that mankind evolved and was not created by God. And she criticized materials accompanying The Forgotten Door, a short novel in which a child tells a lie in order to protect someone. The teacher's edition of the text suggests to instructors that they discuss in class whether a "fib" can sometimes be a "kindness." Frost maintained that the Bible gives an "absolute command" never to lie.

No one questions the sincerity of Frost's religious beliefs. But Timothy Dyk, a lawyer for the school board, protested that "there is no way this woman could attend public school and not be offended." School officials argue that the reading materials are appropriately designed to expose children to diverse views, cultural and religious. Permitting some students to use a different set of readers would be costly and disruptive, authorities assert. Says N.R. Coleman Jr., another member of the school board's legal team: "Lift the petticoat and look underneath, and it's just censorship."