Science test

Church & State, Jul/Aug 2000 by Benen, Steve

Seventy-Five Years After The Scopes Trial, Religious Right Activists Are Trying New Tactics To Expel Evolution From The Public Schools

The events in Dayton, Tenn., were hot in July 1925, both inside and outside the local courthouse.

It wasn't just the 100degree weather, and the lack of air conditioning, that was warming Dayton, but also the rhetorical and emotional heat being generated by the trial of a young science teacher.

In January of that year, State Rep. John W. Butler introduced legislation to make it illegal for a public school to "teach any theory that denies the story of the Divine Creation of man as taught in the Bible." After campaigning on the issue, Butler was proud to take a bold position.

"If we are to exist as a nation," said the legislator, "the principles upon which our government is founded must not be destroyed, which they surely would be if ...we set the Bible aside as being untrue and put evolution in its place."

Six days after being introduced, the state House passed the "Butler Act" by a resounding 71-5 vote. Two months later, it became the first sweeping anti-evolution law in the country.

A 24-year-old teacher named John T. Scopes, who taught general science when he wasn't helping coach the Rhea County high school football team, was charged with violating the statute. He was convicted by a Dayton jury and fined $100.

Beyond Scopes' personal plight, the legal confrontation over his fate-featuring William Jennings Bryan for the prosecution and Clarence Darrow for the defense-became legendary. The Tennessee v. Scopes trial, widely known as the "Scopes Monkey Trial," was held between July 10 and 21, sparking an international firestorm over science, religion, law and education. Popularized by the 1955 play and 1960 movie Inherit the Wind, it is considered to this day the "Trial of the Century." (See "Inherit The Myth?," page 15.)

As the United States marks the 75th anniversary of this legal milestone, many Americans see fights over evolution as relics from the past. When the Kansas Board of Education voted recently to remove evolution from the state's science standards, many thought it was an isolated incident. That perception is simply incorrect.

Seventy-five years after the Scopes trial, confrontations over religion, evolution and public policy are as common as ever. In the 1920s, 20 states legislatures considered measures to prohibit the teaching of evolution. Remarkably, in the 1990s, the number of states that have considered anti-evolution measures is identical - 20 states. And that total does not begin to include the dozens of local controversies that occur on a regular basis.

Despite unanimity within the scientific community about the accuracy of evolution, Religious Right activists and their political allies are waging war on the teaching of evolution in public schools. And the conflict involves more than just science. Should Christian fundamentalists succeed, public school neutrality on religion will be lost and the separation of church and state will be effectively repealed.

With so much on the line, the struggle is intense.

Phillip E. Johnson, a law professor at University of California, Berkeley, and one of evolution's most aggressive critics, spoke of a sweeping struggle at a Feb. 6 conference of religious broadcasters in California, one that goes far beyond biology lessons in public schools.

"Christians in the 20th century have been playing defense," Johnson explained, framing his concerns in a good-versus-evil context. "They've been fighting a defensive war to defend what they have, to defend as much of it as they can.... It never turns the tide. What we're trying to do is something entirely different. We're trying to go into enemy territory, their very center, and blow up the ammunition dump. What is their ammunition dump in this metaphor? It is their version of creation."

With the relentless efforts of activists such as Johnson, Molleen Matsumura, network project director for the National Center for Science Education (NCSE), a group that works to defend evolution, expresses frustration with the current climate.

When asked if supporters of evolution are on the defensive, Matsumura told Church & State, "No and yes. Scientists aren't on the defensive - the theory of evolution is much stronger than in 1925 because it more fully explains a lot more information. For example, it was in the 1950s and '60s that scientists figured out the structure of genes, and now we've got the human genome project. But in the realm of politics, it's a constant battle. And worst of all, many dedicated, professional teachers who are just trying to teach kids good science, and obey the First Amendment while they're at it, have to deal with a great deal of harassment."

A look at American history since 1925 shows that the nation has been building to this point slowly but deliberately. After Tennessee's law was passed, Mississippi followed suit in 1926 and so did Arkansas in 1928. Even after the notoriety of the Scopes trial faded from public attention, in the 30 years that followed, state laws and educational policies closely reflected the will of Bryan, not Darrow. (The Tennessee law under which Scopes was convicted was not repealed until 1967, almost a half-century after the trial.)