Post by AuntieSocial on Nov 18, 2003 12:40:16 GMT -5
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By Alec Solotorovsky
Published: November 18, 2003
Publication: The Cavalier Daily
ROY MOORE got what he wanted.
In a hearing on Wednesday, the Court of the Judiciary of Alabama voted unanimously to remove the so-called "Ten Commandments Judge" from his position as chief justice of the state supreme court after he defied a federal court order to remove a 5,300-pound Ten Commandments monument that he had installed in the central rotunda of the supreme court building.
The ruling brought an end (at least for now) to Moore's judicial career, but his return to private citizenry has been anything but private. Rather, Moore's expulsion from the court is the culmination of the most crass publicity stunt in recent memory and a disturbing reminder that, whatever the century, Americans remain vulnerable to religious demagoguery.
As a bit of political jujitsu, Moore's installation of the monument was pure genius. By placing the massive statue (nicknamed "Roy's Rock") in a public building in blatant violation of the First Amendment, Moore fired the first shot in a political battle he could not lose. If the courts upheld the legality of the monument, then Moore would be hailed by conservative Christians as the visionary leader who brought God back into public life. If Moore was ordered to remove the monument, then he would be revered as a martyr to states' rights and Christian conservatism, two vague and powerful forces in southern politics even today.
With the odds thus stacked in his favor, Moore set about promoting his fight. In advance of last week's hearing, Moore asked that the proceedings be televised and held in a stadium before thousands of spectators. And when his request was denied, Moore accused the panel of conducting his trial in secret, as if to deny him his rightful celebrity status.
But despite this grave injustice, Moore's trial drew supporters from across the state, united in their contempt for the rule of law and the separation of church and state. And before this crowd of political pilgrims, the First Amendment won a hollow victory, as the court removed Moore from office, crowned him a martyr and laid the foundations for his eventual return to politics. Moore is widely seen as a possible candidate for governor or the U.S. Senate, and the powerful following that resulted from his crusade will serve him well in any future campaigns.
Moore's installation of the monument and his subsequent defiance of court orders to remove it were, from start to finish, a base manipulation of religious sentiment for political gain. But such is not surprising from a man who has built his career on appeals to Christian conservatism. The truly depressing thing is the enthusiasm with which Alabamans fell into Moore's trap.
From the moment of its installation, Moore's monument became an object of devotion for the Alabama faithful, who praised and defended Roy's Rock until they wept over its removal in August. And when Moore was finally removed from office last week, his supporters crowded outside the courtroom in a show of solidarity. As one of them told The Washington Post, "Whatever Roy Moore runs for, he's got my vote" ("Alabama Judge Is Removed," Nov. 14).
But in their religious fervor, Alabamans failed to realize that in supporting Moore, they were not supporting religion, but the cynical manipulation of religion for selfish ends. By carrying on a yearlong publicity campaign built upon the faith of his supporters, Moore made religion the mere tool of his political ambitions and dealt God a greater blow than the First Amendment, the ACLU, the Atheist Law Center or any of those liberal demons ever could. If all those thousands who supported Moore had any regard for the sanctity of their faith or the dignity of their state, they should have demanded that Moore remove his monument and cease his ugly exploitation of religion.
On Wednesday, nine brave Alabamans did just that, ruling that even a popular chief justice is not permitted to defy the law. Unfortunately, the other 4,486,499 citizens of Alabama are somewhat farther behind in their acceptance of the venerable principle that the resources of the state should not be used for the promotion of religion.
Emerging from the courthouse on Wednesday, Moore told reporters that he had "absolutely no regrets." But why should he, when his removal from the court has set him on the path to bigger and better things? The only regrettable aspect of last week's decision was that it could not diminish Moore's esteem in the eyes of a gullible public.
Maverick: Added to the news page. Message icon updated.
By Alec Solotorovsky
Published: November 18, 2003
Publication: The Cavalier Daily
ROY MOORE got what he wanted.
In a hearing on Wednesday, the Court of the Judiciary of Alabama voted unanimously to remove the so-called "Ten Commandments Judge" from his position as chief justice of the state supreme court after he defied a federal court order to remove a 5,300-pound Ten Commandments monument that he had installed in the central rotunda of the supreme court building.
The ruling brought an end (at least for now) to Moore's judicial career, but his return to private citizenry has been anything but private. Rather, Moore's expulsion from the court is the culmination of the most crass publicity stunt in recent memory and a disturbing reminder that, whatever the century, Americans remain vulnerable to religious demagoguery.
As a bit of political jujitsu, Moore's installation of the monument was pure genius. By placing the massive statue (nicknamed "Roy's Rock") in a public building in blatant violation of the First Amendment, Moore fired the first shot in a political battle he could not lose. If the courts upheld the legality of the monument, then Moore would be hailed by conservative Christians as the visionary leader who brought God back into public life. If Moore was ordered to remove the monument, then he would be revered as a martyr to states' rights and Christian conservatism, two vague and powerful forces in southern politics even today.
With the odds thus stacked in his favor, Moore set about promoting his fight. In advance of last week's hearing, Moore asked that the proceedings be televised and held in a stadium before thousands of spectators. And when his request was denied, Moore accused the panel of conducting his trial in secret, as if to deny him his rightful celebrity status.
But despite this grave injustice, Moore's trial drew supporters from across the state, united in their contempt for the rule of law and the separation of church and state. And before this crowd of political pilgrims, the First Amendment won a hollow victory, as the court removed Moore from office, crowned him a martyr and laid the foundations for his eventual return to politics. Moore is widely seen as a possible candidate for governor or the U.S. Senate, and the powerful following that resulted from his crusade will serve him well in any future campaigns.
Moore's installation of the monument and his subsequent defiance of court orders to remove it were, from start to finish, a base manipulation of religious sentiment for political gain. But such is not surprising from a man who has built his career on appeals to Christian conservatism. The truly depressing thing is the enthusiasm with which Alabamans fell into Moore's trap.
From the moment of its installation, Moore's monument became an object of devotion for the Alabama faithful, who praised and defended Roy's Rock until they wept over its removal in August. And when Moore was finally removed from office last week, his supporters crowded outside the courtroom in a show of solidarity. As one of them told The Washington Post, "Whatever Roy Moore runs for, he's got my vote" ("Alabama Judge Is Removed," Nov. 14).
But in their religious fervor, Alabamans failed to realize that in supporting Moore, they were not supporting religion, but the cynical manipulation of religion for selfish ends. By carrying on a yearlong publicity campaign built upon the faith of his supporters, Moore made religion the mere tool of his political ambitions and dealt God a greater blow than the First Amendment, the ACLU, the Atheist Law Center or any of those liberal demons ever could. If all those thousands who supported Moore had any regard for the sanctity of their faith or the dignity of their state, they should have demanded that Moore remove his monument and cease his ugly exploitation of religion.
On Wednesday, nine brave Alabamans did just that, ruling that even a popular chief justice is not permitted to defy the law. Unfortunately, the other 4,486,499 citizens of Alabama are somewhat farther behind in their acceptance of the venerable principle that the resources of the state should not be used for the promotion of religion.
Emerging from the courthouse on Wednesday, Moore told reporters that he had "absolutely no regrets." But why should he, when his removal from the court has set him on the path to bigger and better things? The only regrettable aspect of last week's decision was that it could not diminish Moore's esteem in the eyes of a gullible public.
Maverick: Added to the news page. Message icon updated.
