Apocalyptic warnings of an "evil" assault are fueling a struggle for control of the public library in Metropolis, Illinois.
“Evil is moving and motivated,” Brian Anderson
told his congregation at Eastland Life Church on the evening of Jan. 13. “And the church is asleep.”
But there was still time to fight back, Anderson said. He called on the God-fearing people of Metropolis to meet the enemy where Satan was planning his assault: at their town’s library.
[Anderson also sits on the city council, and the mayor is part of his congregation.]
The dispute has pitted the city’s mayor, a member of Eastland Life Church, against his own library board of trustees. It led to the abrupt dismissal of the library director, who accused the board of punishing her for her faith. And last month, it drew scrutiny from the state’s Democratic secretary of state, who said the events in Metropolis “should frighten and insult all Americans who believe in the freedom of speech and in our democracy.”
To counter this movement, Illinois Democrats last year
adopted the first state law in the nation aimed at preventing book bans— which ended up feeding the unrest in Metropolis.
Unlike in comic books and the Bible, the fight in Metropolis doesn’t break along simple ideological lines. Virtually everyone on either side of the conflict identifies as a Christian, and most folks here vote Republican. The real divide is between residents who believe the public library should adhere to their personal religious convictions ['You might be a Christian nationalist if...'], and those who argue that it should instead reflect a wide range of ideas and identities.
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Glenn Coram, pastor of Immanuel Baptist Church in Metropolis, said he also opposed efforts to portray the library as a site of spiritual warfare.
“They’re seeing their mission,” Coram said, “as establishing the kingdom of God in Metropolis through the government.” ['You might be a Christian nationalist if...']
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Baxter, the embattled library director, appeared alongside Anderson and another local pastor on the “Greg Dunker Show,” a local conservative talk radio program.
Baxter defended her decision to donate or sell thousands of books, which she said she did to make room for additional children’s programming. Those removals, she said, were not “an attempt to pull any specific thing.” [Although the result is there are now 8 children's bibles and 1 book on Halloween.]
“God said he did not give us a spirit of fear,” Baxter said, alluding to the scary themes sometimes found in Halloween books. “Why would I want to instill that on anyone?”
Baxter also elaborated on her refusal to apply for state grants. She had chosen instead, she said, to rely on God to provide.
“We don’t need to live by the regulations and the rules of this state,” Baxter said. “We are here to serve and to honor God.” ['You might be a Christian nationalist if...']
A week later, the board went into a closed session and presented Baxter with an ultimatum: If she wanted to keep her job, she needed to sign a performance improvement plan. It stipulated that she would abide by the Library Bill of Rights, seek state grant funding and discontinue praying aloud with children and other religious activities at the library. [She refused to sign it and was removed. The mayor then targetted three board members who voted for her removal. The city council chose not to remove them.]
[One board member] lies awake some nights, worried about what her critics might do to harm her or her family if they truly came to view her as a tool of Satan out to “kill” children. She thinks about the phrase etched in stone at the foot of the Superman statue in the center of town —
Truth, Justice, The American Way — and wonders if some of her neighbors have lost sight of what those words really mean.
