The Inquisition in Alabama
August 28, 2003
WILLIAMSTOWN, MASS. – In 1784, Patrick Henry, then a Virginia
legislator, proposed a bill that imposed a moderate annual tax on
all citizens of Virginia for the support of the Christian religion.
When he read the bill, James Madison saw red. For Madison, Henry's
bill spelled the beginning of a new Inquisition. "Distant as
[the bill] may be, in its present form, from the Inquisition,"
he wrote, "it differs from it only in degree. The one is the
first step, the other the last in the career of intolerance."
Unlike some Americans today who applaud monuments of the Ten Commandments
on state property that sanctify the Judeo-Christian tradition, Madison
was adamant that the Christian religion deserved no privileged status
whatsoever; to single out one religion, he wrote, "degrades
from the equal rank of Citizens" all those who have a different
sense of the divine. "Who does not see," he asked in 1783,
"that the same authority which can establish Christianity,
in exclusion of all other Religions, may establish with the same
ease any particular sect of Christianity, in exclusion of all other
Sects?" Indeed, for Madison, freedom of religion was the foundation
of all other rights. When he first proposed a bill of rights to
Congress in June 1789, he underscored freedom of conscience: "The
civil rights of none shall be abridged on account of religious belief
or worship, nor shall any national religion be established, nor
shall the full and equal rights of conscience be in any manner,
or on any pretext, abridged."
There was no murky area concerning the separation of church and
state for Madison: he saw only black and white. When he was president
in 1811, as his biographer Irving Brant reminds us, a bill came
up to grant a certain piece of land to a Baptist church in Mississippi;
because of a surveying error, the church had been built on federal
land. Wasn't it fair to rectify the error and give the church the
land? Madison said no and vetoed the bill. He saw a slippery slope
and a dangerour precedent.
Madison even objected to chaplains in Congress who were paid out
of the national taxes. The appointment of congressional chaplains,
he wrote, was "a palpable violation of equal rights" because
it "shut the door of worship against the members whose creeds
and consciences forbid a participation in that of the majority."
Chaplains for the Army and Navy fared no better in his mind. And
yet, because chaplains in the Army and Navy already existed, he
thought the more prudent course was to leave certain small matters
alone. Nor did proclamations of thanksgiving meet his test of separation
of church and state for, he wrote, "they seem to imply and
certainly nourish the erroneous idea of a national religion."
Not all politicians or even presidents have understood Madison's
intent - not even his contemporary John Adams. In his inaugural
speech in 1797, President Adams addressed his words to all who "call
themselves Christians," and, at the close of his speech, declared
that it was his "duty" to end by reminding Americans that
a "decent respect for Christianity" was the best recommendation
for public service. But, he would later write - perhaps as apologetically:
"Nothing is more dreaded than the national government meddling
Eighteenth-century rationality is a hard act to follow. But Alabamians
- who have wrangled over a Ten Commendments monument in the state
judicial building - as well as the rest of Americans would do well
to return to the words of the founders for a cool lesson in the
meaning of freedom of conscience and tolerance.
• Susan Dunn is the author of 'Sister Revolutions: French
Lightning, American Light,' and coauthor with James MacGregor Burns
of the forthcoming 'George Washington.'.