For the moment, it appears that the intelligent design movement in Utah is deader than Neanderthal man.

Sen. D. Chris Buttars' bill on the origins of life proved unfit to survive in the Utah House of Representatives Monday. The Senate earlier passed the bill on a vote of 16-12-1, with Utah County's delegation all voting yes (Bramble, Hellewell, Madsen, Valentine). But the House voted against the measure, 46-28, even after it was amended to require the state Board of Education to set curriculum requirements for science instruction, which it already does.

Rep. James A. Ferrin of Orem, the House sponsor, said the bill was needed to rein in science teachers who teach evolution with "evangelical zeal." And so, with evangelical zeal, Ferrin, Buttars and others fought to make matters of faith equivalent to scientific theory as a matter of law.

It was a really bad idea, and rejecting it is no knock on faith. Many things may be understood by faith that cannot be explained by imperfect science. But that doesn't make faith a branch of science.

The vote was a significant setback for religious fundamentalists who sought to legitimize creationism by placing it among alternative "theories" on the origin of life. Trouble is, there are no theories on the origin of life, only speculation and a little sketchy chemistry. This bill would have confused matters immensely in schools.

So the House took a stand. Its final vote was, in fact, a demonstration of intellectual independence and integrity.

Lawmakers like to argue that they do not want to be a super-school board that micromanages school districts. Yet this bill would have done just that by putting the Legislature in the position of writing curriculum and decreeing what is sound science.

Scientific understanding, of course, cannot be determined by a majority vote, or by one's religious persuasion. It is acquired through a process of experimentation and observation.

Sadly, legislative proscriptions on science have been enacted many times in the past, from long before the days of Galileo. It has even been done in the United States. In 1897, for example, the Indiana House of Representatives decided that the mathematical quantity pi was too difficult for students to understand. Pi is a repeating decimal that represents the ratio of a circle's diameter to its circumference.

House members decided that the repeating decimal was confusing and had to go. Rather than 3.1415926..., thenceforth in Indiana pi would be simply 3.2.

This is what happens when politicians think too hard, though it may have caused many citizens of Indiana to begin praying. The measure was passed unanimously by the Indiana House. Fortunately, it stalled in the Senate, where cooler, more rational heads prevailed.

Buttars' bill, would have opened the door for laws just as silly. If the Legislature can deem evolution to be scientifically suspect, despite its universal acceptance, what's next on the political chopping block? Would the theory of relativity, electromagnetism or the uncertainty principle in quantum physics pass certain legislators' tests of inspired and holy science?

The last time government was in the role of arbitrating science, mankind was plunged into the Dark Ages, when superstition held powerful sway over logic. It took hundreds of years and dedicated, courageous thinkers to bring on the Enlightenment.

Will it take that long for a third of the Utah Legislature to acquire common sense?