Putting the “me” in entitlements

Republicans were “entitled to five more seats” in Texas said President Donald Trump when responding to a question about the redistricting efforts taking place in the Lone
Star State.

 “We have an opportunity in Texas to pick up five seats. We have a really good governor, and we have good people in Texas. And I won Texas,” Trump told CNBC’s Squawk Box. “I got the highest vote in the history of Texas, as you probably know, and we are entitled to five more seats.”

While not surprising, the word “entitled” raised a few eyebrows.

Merriam-Webster defines entitlement as “belief that one is deserving of or entitled to certain privileges” (interesting they use the actual word in the definition). Dictionary.com takes it one step further saying it is “the unjustified assumption that one has a right to certain advantages, preferential treatment, etc.”.

Republicans have long been known for opposing entitlements to those groups of people who they feel don’t deserve them. Recently, Elon Musk trumpeted the need to make cuts in federal entitlement programs including Medicare and Social Security citing massive waste and fraud.

Of course, Texas Governor Gregg Abbott added the redistricting agenda item to the special session he called for after the horrific flooding that took place in the Texas hill country last month (along with some other items including banning THC). One wonders how the Texas legislature was able to come up with redistricting plan so fast why still wrestling with how to best protect its citizens who live along the Guadalupe River.

They did manage to hold several town meetings on the issue with no details (aka maps to show to the public) in an apparent show of transparency. Days after the meetings were concluded, low and behold, they introduced the maps that they plan to vote on (funny how that worked).

Sadly, it’s a common practice for politicians to preach, do as I say, not as I do. Perhaps they also need to post the golden rule in Austin.

We’ve come a long way (maybe)

One hundred years ago, the trail of the century took place in a little town called Dayton, Tennessee. The Scopes Trial, also known as the “Monkey Trial,” put John Scopes, a high school teacher on trial for violating a state law prohibiting the teaching of evolution in public schools.

Well before the advent of social media, the trail went viral thanks to two very high-profile attorneys (aka: influencers); William Jennings Bryan, a prominent figure in the fundamentalist movement and a former three-time presidential candidate and Clarence Darrow, a renowned defense attorney who was supported by the ACLU.

A little know fact was that the trial was actually seen as a way for the town to make money and garner national attention (the judge quipped he might use the local football stadium for the courthouse). It attracted newspaper reporters from across the country and was the first live broadcast of a trial in American history bringing the courtroom drama into living rooms everywhere.

At the core of the case was The Butler Act, a Tennessee law which made it illegal for any publicly funded school to teach the theory of evolution, especially any theory that denied the biblical account of divine creation and suggested humans descended from a lower order of animals.

Wanting to put together a test case (a sort of mock trial to test legal strategies) the ACLU found Scopes, a young high school teacher in Dayton, who volunteered to be the defendant thus setting the stage for what would pit science vs. religion.

The case highlighted the deep community divisions between traditional religious values and modern scientific thought. It also raised significant questions about academic freedom and the right of teachers to present scientific theories in the classroom.

The actual outcome of the trial was anticlimactic. Scopes was found guilty by the jury and fined $100. The conviction was later overturned on a technicality by the Tennessee Supreme Court, which ruled that the judge, not the jury, should have imposed the fine.

Fast-forward to 2025 where the debate of religion in the classroom continues. In Texas, the discussion centers on the display of the Ten Commandments and the introduction of optional periods for prayer and Bible reading in public schools (although one has to question if it would be more beneficial to post the Ten Commandments in the offices of elected officials who seem to not remember all of them).

Supporters argue these measures uphold community values and are foundational to American law and education. Those opposed, including some faith leaders and advocacy groups like the ACLU of Texas, argue such policies infringe on religious freedom and violate the separation of church and state.

The state has also introduced the “Bluebonnet Learning” curriculum which was developed by The Texas Education Agency and includes religious references in lessons aligned with state standards (although given the actions of some elected officials, one wonders what those state standards are).

The issue of religion and education is not new, the Condemnations at the medieval University of Paris in 1201 were put in place by the Bishop of Paris to curb certain teachings as being heretical by the church, who at the time could be considered as powerful as any government (see Education under the microscope).

It’s a discussion that seems to not be going away. They say science cannot replace religion and religion cannot replace science. I guess the question is, can they co-exist.