By Mike Smithgall | August 27, 2025 | Atheistville

Picture this: A defendant stands before a judge, accused of a serious crime. Their defense? “Your Honor, God told me to do it.” The courtroom falls silent, not out of reverence, but because everyone knows this argument will go nowhere fast. American culture overflows with claims of divine guidance. Politicians announce God-ordained campaigns, and everyday believers attribute life decisions to heavenly nudges. Despite these claims, our legal system draws a hard, unforgiving line. Divine commands carry zero weight in court.

This stark disconnect between religious rhetoric and legal reality reveals something profound about how justice actually works. It also explains why it has to work that way.

The Secular Foundation of Justice

Our legal system operates on a deceptively simple principle: it must be neutral. Not neutral in the sense that judges and juries lack personal beliefs (far from it). But neutral in that the system itself cannot favor one religious tradition over another, or religious belief over skepticism. The framework rests on rules, procedures, and standards of evidence that everyone can theoretically access, regardless of what they believe about the divine.

The moment we allow “God told me to” as a valid defense, this entire structure crumbles. Which God are we talking about? How do we verify divine communication? Do we cross-examine the Almighty on the witness stand? The absurdity becomes obvious when you try to operationalize divine revelation within legal proceedings.

Consider the chaos that would ensue: One defendant claims God commanded them to kill their neighbor. Another insists divine instruction led them to steal. A third maintains that arson was God’s will. If divine commands were legally admissible, every courtroom would devolve into theological warfare, with competing revelations battling for supremacy.

Why Insanity Defenses Are Different

Here’s where the distinction gets interesting. Courts do recognize “not guilty by reason of insanity,” so why accept mental impairment but reject divine instruction? The answer lies in verifiability and medical framework.

The insanity defense doesn’t rely on subjective belief but on objective evaluation of mental capacity. Did the defendant understand the nature of their actions? Could they distinguish right from wrong? Were their cognitive faculties severely impaired? These questions can be examined through psychiatric evaluation, expert testimony, and established legal standards.

Religious conviction, by contrast, doesn’t automatically indicate mental impairment. Billions of people worldwide claim divine guidance while functioning perfectly well in society. You might disagree with their beliefs, but legally, they’re not considered detached from reality in the same way someone suffering from untreated schizophrenia might be.

The insanity defense recognizes impaired minds, not religious commands. That’s not bias; that’s coherence.

The Historical Nightmare of Religious Law

To understand why secular justice matters, consider what happens when divine authority infiltrates legal systems. History offers plenty of cautionary tales: witch trials, inquisitions, blasphemy laws still enforced in parts of the world today. In these systems, religious authority justifies punishment, leading to cruelty, fear, and arbitrary enforcement.

The strength of secular law is that it keeps justice tied to human responsibility, not divine decree. When courts recognize only evidence and human reason, they prevent societies from collapsing into competing revelations and ensure no one can outsource accountability to a higher power.

Real Cases, Real Consequences

We don’t need hypothetical scenarios to see how this plays out. In 2001, Andrea Yates drowned her five children in Houston, later explaining that she believed she was saving them from eternal damnation by acting on God’s will. The court found her not guilty by reason of insanity—but notice what mattered legally. Not her religious framing, but the medical evidence of severe postpartum psychosis.

Contrast this with Robert Dear Jr., who opened fire at a Planned Parenthood clinic in Colorado Springs in 2015, killing three people and injuring nine. Dear described himself as “a warrior for the babies” and insisted God commanded him to act against abortion providers. Unlike Yates, Dear wasn’t evaluated as legally insane. His statements weren’t incoherent; they reflected conviction, not delusion. His invocation of God’s authority carried no legal weight. He was still held accountable for murder.

These cases reveal the pattern: When someone claims divine command, courts examine mental capacity, not theological validity. The only time religion enters the legal picture is when it intersects with diagnosable mental illness.

The Power Play Behind Divine Claims

Religious claims often serve as tools of power and manipulation. When someone says “God told me to,” they’re invoking unchallengeable authority. Who are you to argue with the Almighty? The statement shuts down debate, shifts responsibility upward, and shields the individual from accountability.

In daily life, this might seem harmless. A pastor claims God told him to plant a church. A politician insists divine guidance led her to run for office. But scale this up to the justice system, and the danger becomes clear. If courts allowed people to shift blame onto divine commands, human agency would evaporate, replaced by untestable claims of higher authority.

Secular law resists this erosion of responsibility. If you take a life, it’s on you. If you steal, it’s on you. If you commit arson, that’s your choice. You might believe God wanted it, but the law treats it as your action because it was your decision.

The Fairness Firewall

This insistence on human accountability protects fairness across belief systems. In a diverse society—Christians, Muslims, Jews, Hindus, atheists, and people of all faiths or no faith—the law cannot privilege one tradition’s revelations over another’s. By necessity, it levels the playing field.

This isn’t hostility toward religion; it’s protection for everyone. Without secular law, justice becomes theology by majority vote, leaving religious and non-religious minorities vulnerable to whatever divine interpretation happens to dominate.

The secular nature of our justice system isn’t just a bureaucratic quirk: it’s a safeguard that keeps law grounded in what can be proven and shared across belief systems.

Why This Matters More Than Ever

In our current cultural moment, with religious language saturating political discourse and extremists regularly invoking divine justification for violence, this separation becomes even more crucial. The legal system’s refusal to recognize “God told me to” as a defense isn’t just about maintaining order—it’s about preserving the very foundation of equal justice under law.

When Penn Jillette observed that courts don’t recognize divine commands as legal defenses, he highlighted something we often take for granted: fairness requires secularism, justice requires evidence, and responsibility requires human accountability.

Belief may shape our motives, but belief cannot serve as an alibi. In a world where millions claim direct divine communication, the law’s skeptical stance protects us all from the chaos that would inevitably follow if every crime could be cloaked in theological justification.

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This post expands on ideas from a recent episode exploring the intersection of faith and justice. [Watch the full discussion on YouTube] or [listen to the complete podcast episode] for additional insights on reason, skepticism, and the delicate balance between belief and accountability in modern society. These platforms dive deeper into the nuances that text alone can’t capture. What’s your take on the role of secularism in our justice system? Share your thoughts in the comments below. Whether you agree or disagree, the conversation benefits from diverse perspectives.

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