Adele M. Stan is a contributing editor to Ms. magazine and a contributing writer to Mother Jones.

A funny thing happened to Al Gore on the road to the White House. He suddenly got stupid -- or maybe just cynical.

The event in question occurred late last month when the Democratic vice president was asked his views on the recent decision of the Kansas state school board to eliminate the theory of evolution from statewide science tests. The decision frees local school districts from the need to teach their students a key component of modern science. Through a spokesman, Gore asserted that although he favors the teaching of evolution, local school districts "should be free to teach creationism as well."

Once informed of a 1987 Supreme Court decision that prohibits the teaching of "creation science" -- a depiction of human origins as presented in the Bible -- in public schools, Gore's campaign spokesman adjusted his position to be within the letter of the high court's decision. But the vice president himself demurred on opportunities to criticize the Kansas vote, saying that he would leave it to local schools whether evolution should be taught.

It is a position you might expect from a Republican candidate, who, after all, has his or her party's right wing to appease in the primaries. But from a Democrat? A Democrat who fancies himself so instrumental to the advance of modern science that, for a moment, he actually thought he invented the Internet?

Echoes of Newtonian chaos

Unfortunately, Gore appears to be taking for inspiration the convoluted futurism of his vanquished foe, former House Speaker Newt Gingrich (R-GA). In 1995, just months after he assumed control of the speaker's gavel, Gingrich made a victory tour of New Hampshire that was widely regarded at the time as a test drive for a presidential bid.

As luck would have it, I was in New Hampshire at the time for Mother Jones, reporting a story on the takeover of a local school board by religious enthusiasts who were seeking to plant creationism in the local science curriculum. At a press conference, I asked Gingrich how he managed to square his support of the creationists with his vision of a high-tech America in which U.S. students were second to none in the fields of math and science.

Gore's cynicism should strike fear for public education advocates

"I think you can certainly refer to both creationism and evolution as something that people ought to be aware of -- together," Gingrich replied. "If you look at chaos theory and the degree to which the certainty of the 19th century is beginning to be replaced, I don't think there's any problem with teaching both."

In other words, because scientific theory is subject to its own evolution -- change that sometimes demands the discard of earlier theories -- what's the problem with presenting an idea that has no basis in science as equal to hypotheses that are rooted in scientific discovery?

The pure cynicism of positions such as those taken by Gingrich and now Gore should strike fear into the hearts of every American who believes, as Thomas Jefferson did, that public education is the cornerstone of a functioning democracy.

Just ask Galileo, Mr. Gore

While the idea of an "evolution option" for local school districts or that of Gingrich's either/or approach may seem benevolent on its face, so, too, did the church's initial encounter with Galileo, the father of modern science.

In 1616, the discoveries made by Galileo Galilei through his invention, the telescope, were presenting daunting challenges to church doctrine and scriptural accounts of the natural world. It had been bad enough when, in the previous century, the monk Copernicus had devised a mathematical theory that placed the sun, and not the earth, at the center of the solar system. Now Galileo's new toy was yielding apparent evidence of the truth of Copernicus' work.

So the church fathers, who were civic as well as spiritual authorities, arrived at a compromise with the troublesome astronomer that all deemed to be relatively harmless. Galileo could continue his work as long as he did not teach Copernicus' theory as if it were true. In other words, he could discuss it and explain it, but not defend it.

Galileo was a clever fellow. He managed to hold to the agreement while presenting his own case as a mere hypothetical. But even as a hypothetical explanation of the universe, Galileo's case was so convincing that in a matter of years he was condemned by authorities and forced to recant his theories under threat of torture.

While Gingrich, a self-proclaimed scholar of American history, may be able to profess ignorance of the Galileo affair, surely Gore heard of it during his stint at divinity school.

Religious tolerance or spiritual cynicism?

It is hard to understand just what the vice president is up to these days, with his advocacy of government sponsorship of "faith-based charities" and now his apparent lack of conviction on the quality of public education. Perhaps he began to believe the religious right's characterization of him as some wayward pagan for his embrace of environmental causes and is now paying penance. (He has been accused of worshipping Gaia, a quasi-spiritual rendering of the earth as a living being.) Maybe he feels he needs to repent for cahorting with wealthy Buddhists in the 1996 presidential campaign.

For all his talk of faith and family, it is not easy to tell just what Gore actually believes. If he really wants to win the hearts and minds of the American faithful, he would do best to stick to the Enlightenment principles on which this nation was founded as it prepares for the future. The fate of the earth will depend, in large measure, on visionary American leadership as we enter the new millennium.