The Amish

by Donald B. Kraybill

  Negotiation and Litigation

  The confrontation over Byler’s horses may be among the most dramatic Amish-state collisions, but high-profile conflicts toggle between quiet behind-the-scenes negotiation and third-party litigation. Such approaches became the dominant pattern in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. Amish negotiation has been led by the National Amish Steering Committee, a group of laymen that, since 1967, has served as the primary liaison for Amish concerns to government.

  Quiet Negotiation

  The Steering Committee emerged amid growing Amish frustration with alternative service assignments that Mennonites had negotiated with the military on behalf of the Amish. Although Amish leaders embraced alternative service, they were not keen on urban work assignments in major metropolitan hospitals that mission-minded Mennonites had arranged for COs. Amish people preferred rural assignments or farm furloughs.19 In 1966 Amish leaders from several states meeting in Indiana confirmed that “practically all church leaders … agreed that the present … system of so many of our boys going to the hospital [urban employment] is proving very unsatisfactory and harmful to our Amish Churches.”20 A delegation of Amish people went to Washington, D.C., to meet with the Mennonite staff member who represented their concerns to the National Service Board for Religious Objectors.

  Afterward, the Amish group noted that “the Old Order Amish are following too closely in the steps of the Mennonites, which is undermining our Amish way of life.”21 Subsequently, the Amish delegates went directly to federal Selective Service officials and asked for farm deferments, stating that they would rather have their young men go to prison than work for two years in the city.22 After some quiet give and take, Selective Service accepted the proposal and directed that Amish draftees be assigned to farm labor.

  Although the men who met with military leaders in Washington were standing up for traditional Amish convictions, their direct, unified approach to negotiation was new. In their highly decentralized church, local districts had no mechanism for ratifying the delegation’s work. But attendees at an ad hoc meeting of parents and bishops from midwestern and Pennsylvania settlements encouraged the group of Washington “delegates” to transform itself into a permanent body that would represent Amish concerns to government officials. Soon dubbed the Amish Steering Committee, the group selected a secretary and a treasurer, both from Swiss settlements in Indiana, and chose Andrew Kinsinger (1920–1995) as chair. Kinsinger’s Lancaster residence placed him in geographic proximity to Washington, D.C., making him the natural contact with federal officials.23

  The Steering Committee thus became a permanent fixture and gradually expanded to include a “committee man” from each state or cluster of states with Amish populations. The national group meets twice a year, rotating gatherings from one settlement to another. Committee men are not compensated for their work, and when they decide to retire, they find their own replacement. In time, the Steering Committee structure spawned the appointment of additional representatives for local settlements who channel grassroots concerns to the national committee and who explain new agreements with government officials to their hometown constituents.

  The formation of the Steering Committee was a negotiated concession to the forces of modern bureaucracy—a response to the state’s assumption that Amish people should act and speak as a unified interest group. Federal and state agencies did not want to hear from hundreds of individual church districts. They wanted one Amish spokesperson. Amish church polity could not provide such a singular voice because one unified church did not exist, but the Steering Committee did offer a loose network that could articulate the most widely shared Amish views. Even so, the Steering Committee has always been composed of laymen, never bishops or ministers. Thus, the committee could never, in any formal sense, speak for the church. It could, however, voice Amish concerns and in unobtrusive ways hammer out amiable resolutions with government officials.24 With the end of the military draft, the Steering Committee’s work broadened into a wide range of issues. For example, in the early 1970s, the committee quietly negotiated an exemption from the hard-hat requirement in the new Occupational Safety and Health Act, allowing Amish construction workers to wear their church-stipulated straw hats or knit caps instead.25

  Third-Party Litigation

  Alongside the evolution of an Amish liaison group committed to behind-the-scenes negotiation, conflicts with the state sometimes took a more litigious turn as third-party civil liberties groups pressed lawsuits on Amish behalf. The role of outside advocates was never more prominent than in the Supreme Court case of Wisconsin v. Yoder et al. involving the refusal of Amish parents to send their children to high school. By the mid-1960s, most states with larger Amish populations had struck some sort of compromise that balanced state truancy law and Amish objections to high school education (see chapter 14). Yet resolution was elusive in Iowa, Kansas, and Wisconsin, and protracted disputes in those states drew the attention of William C. Lindholm, a Lutheran pastor in Michigan. He spearheaded the National Committee for Amish Religious Freedom (NCARF), which included lawyers, academics, and Christian and Jewish religious leaders.26

  By the time NCARF formed, conflicts in Iowa had cooled, but in the fall of 1968, Wisconsin authorities arrested three Green County fathers for keeping their children out of high school. Lindholm engaged a Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, attorney, William Bentley Ball, to prepare a legal defense for the three men. In the spring of 1969, NCARF lost its case in Wisconsin’s lower courts, but it pressed its appeal through the state judicial system and eventually to the U.S. Supreme Court.27 In 1972 Chief Justice Warren Burger handed down the high court’s unanimous opinion, ruling that the state could not deny the Amish the right to practice their faith even if it precluded certified high school work.28

  In recent years, third party litigation on behalf of Amish concerns has included cases involving New York state building codes. The Becket Fund for Religious Liberty, a Washington, D.C.–based law firm, has challenged the codes requiring, among other things, smoke detectors, which Swartzentruber Amish residents of the state oppose because they believe such devices betray a lack of faith in God.29 The first of these conflicts began in 2006 when Swartzentrubers in a new settlement near Morristown, New York, were refused building permits because they would not install smoke detectors.30 The town’s newly hired code enforcement officer began issuing tickets after the Amish started to build without permits. Eventually, the case became a federal lawsuit based on the Amish claim that Morristown was violating their First Amendment rights. As the lawyers for the Amish argued, complying with the requirements of the building code would force the Swartzentrubers in Morristown to change their Ordnung, thrusting them into conflict with other church districts. Furthermore, they argued, “a home that is built in accordance with architect-certified plans or with electronic smoke detectors will be unable to host [church].” Thus the building code violating their Ordnung would have prohibited Swartzentrubers from building homes that could be used as houses of worship.31

  Third-party litigation is not common, but it often involves high-stakes contests and attracts media attention because advocacy groups for the Amish understand the value of public opinion and are not restrained by humility like their Amish clients.

  Stubborn Subjects and Ambivalent Citizens

  The spirit of submission cuts both ways when it comes to government relations. On the one hand, Amish people do not clamor for rights or ask for financial entitlements. Yet when they believe a matter of conscience is at stake, they can be remarkably stubborn subjects. As the range of Amish conflicts with the state has grown over the years, it has followed some clear patterns. The Swartzentrubers and the conservative Swiss Amish have scuffled with local zoning officials over ordinances that limit the number of households on single parcels of land or restrict outhouses. Other issues such as tighter photo identification requirements since September 11, 2001, affect groups across the gamut of Amish life. Obtaining a pass
port to visit relatives in Ontario or simply opening a bank account was already difficult for those without driver’s licenses even before states stopped issuing non-photo identity cards. The National Amish Steering Committee typically takes up matters like photo identity that represent broad Amish interests rather than ones like zoning that affect only a small slice of their constituency.32

  In recent decades, the federal government has been more accommodating of the Amish than state governments have been, likely because at a national level the Amish are such a tiny group and any special treatment is not so politically costly. In 2004, for example, Congress loosened child labor laws to allow fourteen- to seventeen-year-old Amish children to work in many aspects of family businesses.33 Likewise, the 2010 Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act allowed the Amish to forego purchasing commercial health insurance, as noted in chapter 18. In contrast, local officials responsible for municipal affairs in areas with a sizable percentage—perhaps even a plurality—of Amish have sometimes been the most inflexible because bending zoning, land use, or sanitation rules for the Amish could set problematic precedents. In addition, local officials may not have the staff or budget to deal with complex, exemption-laden ordinances, may not know First Amendment protections, or, in some cases, may even harbor an anti-Amish bias.

  Interestingly, local politics can engender citizen-like behavior from some Amish in long-established settlements with progressive outlooks. Although they will not serve on juries or hold public office, many take an interest in local civic affairs. In some settlements, Amish leaders have amicable relationships with municipal officials, who informally consult with them on pending zoning regulations and other matters of mutual interest. Although they decline serving in prominent offices, liberal-minded Amish sometimes will accept appointments on the planning or zoning commissions of rural townships.34

  Members of Amish communities will also attend public meetings when issues pertinent to them are percolating. In January 2011, for example, Amish men and women helped pack the hearing room at the LaGrange County, Indiana, municipal building and petitioned the county’s Alcoholic Beverage and Tobacco Board to deny an alcohol permit requested by a convenience store in the village of Shipshewana. Amish and other town residents wanted to keep the village dry. Although none of the Amish spoke during the time for public comment, Shipshewana Town Manager Sheryl Kelly told a journalist that “their influences really do represent the community.”35

  Amish awareness of and interest in state and national politics often hinges on access to mass media. In late 2007, a sixty-seven-year-old self-employed bishop in the Kalona, Iowa, settlement, conversant on many matters, had not heard of Barack Obama despite intense media coverage of that state’s upcoming presidential caucuses. In contrast, an Amish contractor in Maryland whose English driver tunes the truck’s radio to daytime talk shows may be quite familiar with current issues as interpreted by political pundits. Amish entrepreneurs who affiliate with the National Federation of Independent Businesses receive that group’s voter guide.36

  Republican Party efforts to register Pennsylvania and Ohio Amish voters for the 2004 presidential election—and the Amish response—illustrate the ambivalent sense of citizenship many Amish people hold. Although church rules do not forbid voting, most Amish refrain from it. “By voting, we become a part of the powers instead of being subject to them,” one influential Amish publication explained, adding, “We have enough to do to keep the church in order; let the world run the government” and “If we don’t want the government to tell us how to conduct our church affairs, we had better not tell them how to run the government.”37 Amish people who do vote are more likely to do so in local elections than in presidential ones because they worry that voting for the commander-in-chief will compromise their position as conscientious objectors.

  Nevertheless, prior to the 2004 presidential election some Amish people in eastern Pennsylvania had caught the contagion of what one Amish man called “Bush Fever,” because a local Republican leader with Amish connections led vigorous voter registration efforts in Amish communities. In both Holmes County, Ohio, and Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, 13 percent of Amish adults cast ballots. This unusually high rate of voting in these two settlements was an anomaly not only because it was a presidential election but also because Amish voters were propelled, ironically, by a moral vision for the outside society—opposition to abortion and gay rights—that was of little concern within Amish society itself.38

  Civic Participation

  Although most Amish remain aloof from national politics, many do see themselves as members of local communities and carry a certain sense of civic responsibility. Such commitments are more common in older settlements where Amish people have long-standing neighborly ties. Most Amish consider living a quiet and peaceable life that does not burden the larger society as their way of being good Americans. Nevertheless, Amish contributions to civic life can be much more participatory.

  In the Lancaster settlement, for example, Amish people serve as volunteer emergency medical technicians on local ambulance crews.39 Most volunteer fire companies serving rural areas also have Amish members. Indeed, some companies would hardly function without Amish firefighters, whose flexible work schedule and rural employment allow them to drop everything and respond quickly to alarms. Although Amish firefighters do not drive the fire trucks, they use the latest firefighting technology and serve as elected officers of fire companies. Amish households participate avidly in fire company fund-raising efforts. Women make chicken corn soup and men barbeque chicken for benefit dinners and public auctions and otherwise give generously to fire company treasuries. Even the most conservative Amish may donate items to fund-raising auctions benefiting local volunteer fire companies.

  Participating in local fire companies is less common in some areas, but Amish households often contribute to other community causes. An advertisement for a Habitat for Humanity fund-raising auction in northern Indiana featured Amish-donated items such as quilts and furniture as well as items for Amish bidders, including a “buggy with all the extras (heater, fenders, etc.).”40 In communities where Amish families make use of hospice or grief counseling centers, Amish people express their gratitude by supporting their fund-raisers. Amish people in many settlements also donate blood to public health agencies. The annual blood drive in one Ohio community offers Amish participants a chance to win a buggy. The idea was proposed by an Amish man who serves on the board of his local Red Cross chapter.41

  This young Amish man serves as the assistant chief of a local volunteer fire company in Pennsylvania. Here he observes Amish people preparing equipment to be sold at an auction to raise funds for the fire company. Involvement in such a role requires the use of high-tech communications such as the twoway radio on his belt. Daniel Rodriguez

  The Amish are reluctant to join service clubs such as Rotary or Kiwanis that might compete with their churchly commitments. Occasionally, however, individuals do partner with such groups. This happened during the 2009 Christmas season in Harlan, Indiana, where shoppers noticed a pair of Salvation Army bell ringers in “long, plain dresses and white cotton bonnets” who “moved about with the help of white canes.” Sisters Emma and Naomi Miller, who were blind, were serving with a youth program associated with Lions Clubs International, a group known for programs that serve the blind. “[My parents] think it’s fine,” Emma told a journalist, “but when I talk to my grandpa and grandma, they don’t know what to think sometimes. But they excuse me because I’m blind.” That Christmas the sisters raised more money for the Salvation Army than any other pair of ringers. They did so, however, on their own terms, refusing to pose for pictures or wear the insignia vests of the Lions Club, which was helping the women obtain a guide dog.42

  Thousands of people (Amish and English) attend an annual benefit auction for a local fire company. Amish people play a key role in organizing the event each year. The horse auction in the foreground is one of many auctions occurring si
multaneously. Daniel Rodriguez

  Charitable Work

  Beyond their contributions to civic life, Amish people also engage in charitable work through church-related organizations. Most Amish charitable work takes place through agencies managed by Mennonites or car-driving Beachy Amish. Since the 1950s, Amish men and women have participated in the work of Mennonite Disaster Service (MDS), an organization somewhat akin to the Red Cross that provides immediate relief and long-term rebuilding for Americans in the wake of floods, tornados, hurricanes, and other natural catastrophes. In 1992, responding to devastation in Florida from Hurricane Andrew, a coalition of Amish and conservative Mennonites organized Disaster Response Services (DRS).43 Like MDS, its Mennonite counterpart, DRS provides volunteer cleanup and rebuilding for mostly lower-income households selected by local aid agencies. But DRS only accepts volunteers who wear plain garb, a reaction against the more liberal ethos of some MDS units in which, as one person noted, volunteers might “find themselves working on a roof next to women in very revealing clothing,” which would not be “a consistent witness.” Nonetheless, Amish volunteers from many settlements still participate in MDS. In the wake of Hurricane Katrina’s Gulf Coast destruction in 2005, an outpouring of hundreds of Amish volunteers from across the country donated thousands of hours in cleanup.44

  Amish charity gravitates toward practical projects, such as sending food relief to famine-stricken parts of the world or financing well-drilling in poor countries, rather than complex economic development projects or highly technical medical missions. Historically, many Amish communities have generously supported the work of Mennonite Central Committee (MCC), an international relief agency whose global efforts mushroomed after World War II. Each year, for example, Amish men and women contribute to MCC directly by canning thousands of tons of turkey for distribution in overseas schools and refugee camps and volunteering in MCC warehouses packing clothing, health, and educational supplies for worldwide distribution. Amish churches, especially in Pennsylvania, actively support MCC’s annual “relief sale” auctions, which sometimes include the sale of a new home built with Amish-donated labor and materials. Amish women in eastern Lancaster County converted a tobacco barn into the Buena Vista Sewing Room, where they quilt, roll bandages, and pack clothing for MCC’s global distribution.45