The pair of Supreme Court decisions on the public display of the Ten Commandments last week sent a mixed message. On the one hand, the Court found unconstitutional the posting of framed copies of the documents in Kentucky courthouses, citing the obvious intent of those counties to send a religious message. On the other hand, the Court said the large commandment-inscribed monolith on the Texas State Capitol grounds is constitutional because of its religious and historical “dual significance.” The historical argument that the nation’s past and institutions have been influenced by religion, has long been a favorite of the advocates of public religious displays.

The religious views of the Founding Fathers and the long history of government officials invoking religious ideas, it is argued, proves that religion is part of the very fabric of America and should be treated as such.

There is substantial truth to this view. The majority of the Founders were religious, which is no surprise considering the near-universal acceptance of such ideas at the time. It is also true that legislators, Supreme Court justices, and presidents have consistently invoked God in their defense since the nation’s founding. Examples are easy to find, such as the phrase “In God We Trust” on currency and the president’s typical “God bless you all” speech ending.

But these facts don’t tell the whole story. Many of the Founders were notoriously opposed to Christian teaching, characterizing it in their private letters as “myth”, “fable”, and “superstition.” The Constitution is notably devoid of references to any God, Christian or otherwise.

However, the above shouldn’t be taken as an attempt to simply regurgitate the historical argument with a different set of facts. The argument itself is inherently flawed, regardless of the historical interpretation it invokes. Simply pointing to the past proves nothing. The mere fact that the Founders expressed a belief in God or that the Supreme Court upheld the validity of Sunday Blue Laws based on the Ten Commandments serves as no proof that government should be allowed, by its history alone, to invoke religious ideas.

In the Texas case, the majority opinion cites a past decision in which the Court upheld the official prayer of a state legislature because “Such a practice … was ‘deeply embedded in the history and tradition of this country'”. Yet history contains plenty of examples of practices and traditions that later generations look back on with dismay. American history is no different. Years ago, a similar crusade was made to preserve one of the country’s “deeply embedded traditions” recognized by many of the Founding Fathers. This tradition was slavery, and was only rejected as contrary to American principles after decades of battling the inertia of history.

Indeed, the majority opinion in the Texas case, quoting a past decision, states “it would be incongruous to interpret [the Establishment Clause] as imposing more stringent First Amendment limits on the states than the draftsmen imposed on the Federal Government.” In other words, the actions of the Founders are more important than — and supersede — the words they wrote in the Constitution. Again, we see that slavery would necessarily be upheld under such a rule.

The simple lesson then is that what happened in the past should not be used by itself to support what we do in the future. The point of studying history is to learn from past mistakes, not repeat them. In simplest terms, the Supreme Court ruling is that since the monument has been there for 40 years, it should stay. Given all the important political and philosophical aspects of this debate, it’s about time we demand more than that.