Young, Funny, Fundamentalist Indoctrination

by Aaron Labaree

Sneering at "Bible-believing" Christians is easy, as we know from every movie or TV show that has ever needed a cheap laugh. TV audiences are attuned to the smallest nuances of—or deviations from—Cool, so as targets for mockery, Midwesterners who proclaim their faith to strangers and listen to rap music about Jesus are sort of too good to be true, like cows which have wandered onto a sniper range. Not very sporting, but almost impossible to resist.

Born-again Christians do tend to vote for some of the worst politicians and policies, but the film Jesus Camp, released in September, is a good reminder of how inadequate sneering is as a response to religious extremism. The movie, directed by two New Yorkers, Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady, is about a summer camp run by Becky Fischer, a charismatic evangelical minister to children. The stated mission of the camp is "to teach, train, and equip children to do the work of ministry and release them in their giftings and callings"—this means, the movie makes clear, training soldiers for Christ.

Unlike other Christian camps, which offer sports, outdoor activities, and a little preaching, Fischer's heavily emphasizes religious indoctrination. In her sermons, Fischer tells the children that this country—and this world—is terribly sick. The kids are told repeatedly to resist the devil and spread the faith. They're encouraged to speak in tongues, something Fischer does with Pootie Tang-like casualness.

Naturally there are plenty of moments of unintentional humor in Jesus Camp, starting with the name of the camp, "Kids on Fire", which would seem to violate every principle of safety, human rights, and advertising. ("I don't know, Honey—Bobby hated that place last year, 'Kids at the Bottom of a Lake'." "Mm—and the year before that, 'Kids Wandering, Cold and Hungry, through the Woods.' But maybe this one will be better.") But there are many more scary parts. There's the first day of camp, when Fischer takes a moment aside to condemn Harry Potter. From someone as comfortable with kids as she is, you might expect a mild, finger-wagging type of warning. But there is no smile on her face. Warlocks are evil, she declares, "and if Harry Potter were alive in the Middle Ages, he would be put to death!" There's the scene where one of the counselors leads the children in a ritual smashing of the "devil in government", represented by coffee mugs with "Government" written on them. Urged on by the counselors, the kids file up to break mug after mug with a hammer, sometimes sobbing (the kids are often sobbing). At another point, the children are shown swearing allegiance to the Christian flag; it's red, white, and blue, but instead of stars and stripes, a cross.

We're supposed to be scared; the film makes no attempt to be impartial. Its thesis is that Evangelicals like Fischer pose a threat to democracy in this country and that, it implies, the project of indoctrinating children is characteristic of the movement's fanaticism and ruthlessness. This idea is stated by the Air America radio host Mike Papantonio, who is filmed in his studio doing his show. The regular interruptions to listen to him are obnoxious, but it's hard to watch the movie and disagree with what he says. Fischer and her colleagues do not believe in the separation of church and state; they see conflicts in the world, particularly terrorism, as battles in the cosmic war between good and evil; tolerance and pluralism may be very nice, but, as Fischer says, "Excuse me, but we have the Truth!" Their worldview is fundamentally at odds with Democracy and the compromises that come with it. People talk about how the "culture wars" affect electoral politics—and clearly liberals are Evangelicals' natural political opponents. But what Fischer despises—or maybe is just indifferent to—isn't just Ted Kennedy's liberalism, but Locke's and Montesquieu as well. The individual's right to self-determination and freedom from arbitrary authority the highest political good? Not if it interferes with Christians' rights to cure this sick world.

The parts of the film that may scare viewers the most are the interviews with the children, who seem to be absolutely committed to the Christian cause. Fischer objects to the idea that she's indoctrinating kids; she says she just taps into their natural desire for God. And she is definitely on to something. You get the feeling that God, for many of her campers, is not just a phase before they start dating but a real commitment and source of strength. These kids are sitting in their plush homes in Missouri and dreaming of a way to give their lives for Jesus. There's an innocent—as opposed to hypocritical—gap between their piles of toys and video games (the fruits of science and secularism) and their passion for some holy mission. Fischer herself says, "I love this American lifestyle. I get up every day and I'm excited about what I'm doing. But I also look around at this world and I say, 'Lord, get me out of here!'"

More than one of the campers expresses admiration for suicide bombers. Fischer says, on her very informative website, that by urging kids to be warriors for Christ, she's not advocating violence. I don't think she is. What these kids admire isn't that suicide bombers kill people, but that they're willing to give their lives for God and for their religious community. This is also, by many accounts, what inspires the bombers themselves. Blowing yourself up is seen first as a noble act of altruism and second as a way to kill infidels and go to heaven. One gets the sense that the men who coach Islamic martyrs—and this is a psychological and not a moral comparison—are also on to something.

Conservatives—and plenty of Democrats—say again and again that terrorists are the new totalitarians, unappeasable by logic or bargaining, intent on imposing their worldview on everyone. This is a brainless response to Islamic fundamentalism, but liberals' response to Christian fundamentalism—head shaking, mockery, and dread—has not met a much higher standard of seriousness. Jesus Camp, with its ominous soundtrack and focus on the extreme, is not the subtlest piece of work, but it represents an attempt—almost as rare among secular liberals as among right-wing jingoists—to look at religious extremism with genuine curiosity

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[Editor]

That's all, guys. Sorry.