On Friday the meeting of the Texas Board of Education began with a prayer offered by member Cynthia Dunbar, a graduate of Pat Robertson’s Regent University. Dunbar prayed “in the name of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ” on behalf of “a Christian land governed by Christian principles…I believe no one can read the history of our country without realizing that the Good Book and the Spirit of the Savior have from the beginning been our guiding geniuses,” she said, adding that “I believe the entire Bill of Rights came into being because of the knowledge our forefathers had of the Bible and their belief in it.”
With the tone properly set, the Board proceeded to give final approval to a new set of standards to be taught in the state’s public schools. Voting strictly along party lines, the Republican majority decided, among other things, to remove a reference to Thomas Jefferson from history books, replacing him with the study of John Calvin and Thomas Aquinas.
The old standard:
Explain the impact of Enlightenment ideas from John Locke, Thomas Hobbes, Voltaire, Charles de Montesquieu, Jean Jacques Rousseau, and Thomas Jefferson on political revolutions from 1750 to the present.
The new Republican standard:
Explain the impact of the writings of John Locke, Thomas Hobbes, Voltaire, Charles de Montesquieu, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Thomas Aquinas, John Calvin and Sir William Blackstone.
I am all in favor of adding John Calvin to the list. The more students learn about his bigotry, his burning of heretics, and his dumbfounding notions of predestination, the better. His ideas certainly had an impact on New England’s Puritans; students should learn about the Massachusetts statute of 1641 providing the death penalty for blasphemy, or, for a lesser offense, mutilation of the tongue. They should also learn about the Massachusetts Calvinists who executed four people in 1659 for the crime of being Quakers.
Aquinas is a different matter. I’m drawing a blank on what relationship he has to the founding of America; his opus was more concerned with theological niceties like the different categories of grace and the nature of limbo. I suspect the board is just being politically correct here, tossing a bone to the Catholics if they were going to add the rabidly anti-Catholic Calvin. Being generous, I suppose Aquinas’ teachings in favor of slavery could have some relevance.
Part of the argument for leaving out Jefferson was that he didn’t have many original ideas, but merely implemented the ideas of others. Stretching my generosity to the limit, I could agree with that. Besides, he was a slaveholder, which ought to subtract a couple of points. But instead of omitting him altogether, how about replacing him with the guy who inspired many of his ideas, who has the added advantage of being one of America’s first abolitionists?
Jefferson planned the inscription for his own tombstone, and it mentioned only three of his accomplishments. Two of them were authoring the Declaration of Independence and the Virginia Statute of Religious Freedom. Independence for the colonies wasn’t really his idea, though. At the dawn of 1776, almost no one was in favor of that. Greater local autonomy for the colonies, yes, but not outright independence. When full-scale warfare broke out, though, Americans didn’t appreciate being shot at by their benevolent British masters, and at this “teachable moment” a little pamphlet by Tom Paine, written at Ben Franklin’s suggestion, took America by storm.
Common Sense was written in the unflowery language of a non-professional educated in the school of hard knocks. Among simple colonists it struck a nerve, arguing not only for independence, but for the even more radical idea of not having a divine-right king at all, but a republic governed by elected representatives of the people—an idea not advocated by any of the other thinkers included in the new Texas standard. More than 500,000 copies of Common Sense were printed—not bad in a total population of 2.5 million, and by far the number one seller in America for the entire 18th century. It changed minds. Washington himself wrote that the “sound doctrine and unanswerable reasoning” of Common Sense was working a “powerful change … in the Minds of men.” Even John Adams, never a Paine ally, admitted that “without the pen of the author of Common Sense, the sword of Washington would have been raised in vain.” Six months later, the Continental Congress jumped on the bandwagon Tom Paine had set in motion, and assigned Jefferson the scrivener’s task.
The Virginia Statute of Religious Freedom, while highly important, also carries out ideas expressed more fully by Tom Paine in what by my reckoning is the most profound religious work ever written: The Age of Reason. From the outset, Paine rejects the atheist certainty that no supernatural force exists. “I believe in one God, and no more.” Yet he spends most of the book debunking the Christian Bible, in a manner rather contrary to Ms. Dunbar’s belief that the “Good Book” is our guiding genius. The Gospel story “has every mark of fraud and imposition stamped upon the face of it. … [I]t is impossible to conceive a story more derogatory to the Almighty, more inconsistent with His wisdom, more contradictory to His power, than this story is.”
Paine finds God not in the glibness of the God experts, but in the world around us: “It is only in the CREATION that all our ideas and conceptions of a word of God can unite. … It is an ever existing original, which every man can read. It cannot be forged; it cannot be counterfeited; it cannot be lost; it cannot be altered; it cannot be suppressed. … It preaches to all nations and to all worlds; and this word of God reveals to man all that is necessary for man to know of God.”
Calvin and Aquinas based their entire systems on “revelation,” the idea that God communicated his will to certain experts. Calvin insisted that revelation was contained solely within the books selected for inclusion in the Bible; Aquinas taught that God also sends revelation telegrams into the brain of the Pope. Paine’s treatment of revelation is essentially unanswerable:
No one will deny or dispute the power of the Almighty to make such a communication if he pleases. But admitting, for the sake of a case, that something has been revealed to a certain person, and not revealed to any other person, it is revelation to that person only. When he tells it to a second person, a second to a third, a third to a fourth, and so on, it ceases to be a revelation to all those persons. It is revelation to the first person only, and hearsay to every other, and, consequently, they are not obliged to believe it. It is a contradiction in terms and ideas to call anything a revelation that comes to us at second hand, either verbally or in writing. Revelation is necessarily limited to the first communication.
Paine then dwells on the evil that God expert power has done the world across the centuries: “All national institutions of churches, whether Jewish, Christian or Turkish, appear to me no other than human inventions, set up to terrify and enslave mankind, and monopolize power and profit.” He instead stresses reason and morality, eliminating the theological speculation of people like Calvin and Aquinas. But he shrewdly identifies the political problem with this simple approach:
Pure and simple Deism does not answer the purpose of despotic governments. They cannot lay hold of religion as an engine but by mixing it with human inventions, and making their own authority a part; neither does it answer the avarice of priests, but by incorporating themselves and their functions with it, and becoming, like the government, a party in the system. It is this that forms the otherwise mysterious connection of church and state.
Which, of course, is precisely the kind of two-step Texas Republicans are trying to bring to the public education dance.
So instead of just shaking our heads about how backwards these new standards are, maybe there’s an opportunity to make lemonade out of lemons here. A campaign, perhaps, to develop a lesson plan asking students to compare and contrast the ideas of John Calvin and Thomas Aquinas with those of Tom Paine. That could surely get some minds moving.
UPDATE: Lacking in the divine guidance that enables God experts to be infallible, I made a rather egregious error in yesterday’s “Texas Two-Step” entry, which I regret. The Texas Board of Education, back in March, had approved preliminary standards removing Thomas Jefferson from a list of political philosophers to be studied in Texas schools, replacing him with Thomas Aquinas and John Calvin. On Friday, May 21, the board made a number of changes to the proposed standards, and then voted final approval. When researching my post on Saturday I reviewed a number of news articles about the events of Friday, none of which mentioned any change to the Jefferson decision, so I assumed that portion of the March draft had remained unchanged. It is now evident that I didn’t look hard enough, because in fact Jefferson has been reinstated to the list. Aquinas and Calvin are still in, but an attempt to add James Madison failed.
On the one hand, had Saturday’s search revealed that Jefferson had survived the cut, I would have arranged the post differently, noting that if the God experts get two additions to the list, our side merits at least one, and nominating Paine as a substitute if they don’t like Madison. On the other hand, now that the deed is done, I still think the single best choice for young Texans to study is Paine, that contrasting Paine with Calvin and Aquinas is a wonderful exercise, and that almost any opportunity to spread the ideas of Tom Paine is well worth taking. Admittedly, that sounds a little like Bush defending the invasion of Iraq on the grounds that even though we didn’t find any WMDs, the world is better off anyway. But at least I didn’t kill anybody.
Luis Granados