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Knowledge and Doubt
Saturday, June 20th, 2009 | Author: Moody
The following material, in this and related posts upcoming, draws extensively upon the writing of philosopher Walter A. Kaufmann, whose 1958 book, Critique of Religion and Philosophy, I have lately been re-reading. I have attempted to provide my own take on the material, putting it into my own words, with the idea of saying what I think, of expressing what I understand, while also promoting his work to those who may not have read it. I also wrote this post as a way for me to test my own understanding of the material discussed and to put it out there for public scrutiny and comment.

Part 1: What do you know?

I.

When it comes to religion, I think it is fair to say that there are difficulties with regard to the definition of “truth” and “knowledge”. Many (if not most) religious people will tell you that they “know God exists”. The immediate question arising from this is, How do they know? Perhaps a better first question would be, What do they mean by “know”? And but so, of course, we need to have a firm idea about what “to know” means to us.

If I say to a friend that “I know my car is in the garage”, I am stating that it is true that the car is in the garage, and I am peremptorily and implicitly stating that my assertion is true (or correct). I am also making a falsifiable statement; someone can check to see if it is true or false that my car is in the garage. But what does it mean to the statement if the car is, in fact, in the garage? Is it certain then that I actually knew? Is “I know my car is in the garage” (S1) equivalent to a statement like, “I know my name is James” (S2)?

Let’s look at S1 and S2 in a bit more detail.

Assume that the friend I am talking to recognizes which car is mine. Does it affect any quality of my stating S1 if I make the statement over the phone to my friend, who is not there, while standing in the garage with my car, vs. making the statement while standing, say, in the living room of my friend’s house with my friend, both of us unable to see my car? In either case the statement remains falsifiable. If the car is right there with me when I state S1, then, barring delusion or insanity, one could grant that I certainly do know, even if no-one else is with me at that moment. The same goes for if my friend is there with me when I state S1, only one might add that this latter situation would grant an immediate empirical quality to my statement. But does any of this make a significant difference to our understanding of knowledge itself?

Can there be empirical knowledge of S2? Yes, of course. Is it then the same kind of knowledge as indicated by S1? Yes. Empirical knowledge of the stars gained through the use of telescopes does not differ from empirical knowledge of various mathematical proofs gained from studying mathematics. That is, S2 is just as falsifiable and evidence-based as S1. In the case of S2, I have a birth certificate, a drivers license with my picture on it, a Social Security card, and other forms of identifying material. I have the testimony of my parents who named me. In a room full of people, I honestly respond to the name “James” and not to others. Although “James” is not a physical thing that one can touch or sense directly like a car in a garage, there are nonetheless multiple ways of obtaining empirical (real world) evidence to support my assertion that “I know my name is James” is a true statement.

This is not to say that I may not, in fact, be mistaken in either case. Although it is unlikely that I am wrong about either one, there is the possibility, however remote, that I don’t actually know, even though my stating S1 or S2 was done in good faith. But I think that it should be fairly obvious to the reader that S1 stated out of sight of the car, would sooner fall into doubt than S2 stated at nearly any time.

II.

True knowledge may always be falsified. If a statement is made that asserts knowledge that cannot be falsified, there is no way to determine if it is in fact knowledge, and reason to doubt that it is in any way knowable. Statements that depend on (or are somehow meant to be justified by) unfalsifiable knowledge—rather than providing a way toward falsifying the asserted knowledge—are doubly suspect. Thus, if one states that “I know faeries are good because they keep trolls out of my garden”, then all one has done is begged the question. Were one to state that “I know faeries are good because they keep slugs off my tomatoes”, that could be tested a number of ways. But here it is very important to note that an absence of slugs on the tomatoes would not in itself constitute any proof that faeries were responsible. There would have to be tests that could actually address the statement. Nor would it do the statement any good if it turned out that your kindly next door neighbor had sprayed the tomatoes for you and you then said the faeries compelled her to do so.

On the other hand, even if something seems difficult to apprehend or test, if it is falsifiable and it passes tests of falsifiability, then it may be said to be known or knowable. Famously, this would apply to Einstein’s formula, E=mc2. It also applies to the theory of evolution, which requires a fairly robust level of education to really grok. One may doubt that something is true (as formulated or presented) or knowable, but it becomes less and less rational to do so as it passes test after test and is not proven false. At this point, for instance, no educated person in her or his right mind (no rational person) would doubt that the earth is a fairly oblate spheroid object orbiting the sun. Again, the same goes for E=mc2 and the theory of evolution.

III.

One thing that should be gleaned from the above paragraphs is that there is no room for “subjective” truth where knowledge is concerned. Although one can make a good faith assertion that something is known or true (S1 and S2) and be mistaken, this is a far cry from a statement like, “It’s true for me that stars are actually plugged in to a cosmic electrical grid”. The fact of the matter is that there is no “true for me” in that sense, regardless of whether you actually believe it or not. If you were to tell me that it was true for you that you could fly by strenuously flapping your arms, I would have every right to doubt your assertion and ask you to prove it. If you then began to strenuously flap your arms and said, “Look! I’m flying!”, I would have every reason to think that something was wrong with you or that you were trying to have one over on me. If you then said to me, in all sincerity, “You didn’t see me flying because you don’t believe, but I [know that I] did fly, and whatever you say it is still true to me”, I would have to say, if only to myself, “You poor, deluded bugger”.

Sincerity and feelings cannot establish the fact or truth of something beyond themselves. One may sincerely believe in faeries, and feel their presence all around, but this in no way proves that there are faeries; it is simply evidence of your sincerity and feelings. Appealing to the number of people who also believe in faeries (though some of them spell it f-a-i-r-i-e-s) does not lend itself as any kind of proof of faeries, either. You must provide something falsifiable. I shall remain a non-faerieist until such time as some real evidence comes my way. But really, I’ve never seen a single shred of falsifiable evidence for faeries that wasn’t in the end a failure for the faerieists. So, truth be told, I’m an afaerieist; I deny the existence of faeries due to lack of supporting evidence; I have no faith in faeries.

But, all kidding aside, is there no empirical evidence for “God”?

…

Stay tuned for Part 2: What do you believe? Suggestions, criticisms and comments are welcomed and encouraged.

Category: Atheism, Philosophy, Religion/Spirituality, Science  | Comments
The Hazards of Confronting Believers
Sunday, April 05th, 2009 | Author: Moody

One of the most difficult positions held by atheists—a de facto position following of course from the main proposition of atheism—is that there is no divine aid or comfort to be looked for in difficult times. Religious people are fond of saying that they are “carried through the hard times” by their beliefs, by their deity. They say, over and over, that they don’t know how they’d cope if it wasn’t for “God” being there for them. Some of their stories are quite moving, emotionally and psychologically. That there is not a shred of evidence in them, or despite the fact that they are talking about their own actions based on what they believe and not on any demonstrable intervention on the part of said deity, seems lost to them. Their belief is tantamount to proof for them because they sincerely feel that it is what led to their successfully navigating some difficulty or surviving some hardship. It is difficult to argue with this position.

When an atheist says to a believer that there is no “God”, she or he is saying to the believer that there is no help for life’s worst times, that the person is on his or her own. It is something like a psycho-social replay of the scene in Bambi when Bambi’s father looms over the young deer and says, “Your mother can’t be with you anymore”. Of course, in the movie the young Bambi has no choice but to accept this and then deal, without support, with all that follows. In real life, the believer is under no such obligation to accept what the atheist is saying. The atheist is simply and immediately cast in the role of “Bad Person” or “Mistaken Person”, and the believer distances him or herself in at least a psychological way.

I feel a certain amount of distress over this. more…

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Where’s the line?
Wednesday, March 18th, 2009 | Author: Moody

There are bound to be casualties on both sides in the culture wars.  Try as we might to be considerate to those whose feelings and opinions matter to us, we are bound to run into some difficulty that either hurts them or us. If we speak our minds to persons close to us whose position radically differs from ours, we risk making them feel diminishing and alienating them. If we keep our mouths shut and keep our ideas private, we risk feeling passively diminished and alienated.

Ideally, we’d like to be able to be who we are and know that those close to us will accept us. This is especially the wish where family members are concerned. It’s also the type of relationship most likely to expose us to one of the most unfortunate sides of the culture wars. It is the place in our lives where we will probably have to draw strictly defined lines in order to save ourselves and those we care about from long-lasting wounds.

Of course it’s not the only place we will find ourselves drawing such lines. Other relationships (professional or casual) will require us to do so for the sake of civility. But I am mostly concerned here with close interpersonal relationships, especially familial ones, because these are really thorny and fraught with danger.

more…

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What if… I believed?
Sunday, March 15th, 2009 | Author: Moody

Every now and again I get a wistful feeling when I hear someone talking about how satisfying her or his spiritual beliefs are. Such people are often very sincere, I know; when you have a belief, it feels like certain knowledge. So the heartfelt expression of their words is filled with that sense of “real” immanence that looks like bliss. I am not above being moved by the sincerity of others. But I am also aware that this sincerity is no measure of reality or factual truth.

Artist Anthropic Interpretation of God

Artist's Anthropic Interpretation of 'God'

A child can very sincerely pray to Santa Claus to give them some special, achingly desired gift. His or her belief in Santa Claus is utterly genuine, and the faith that Santa will hear his or her prayer is absolute. But we know that there is no fat, jolly, white-bearded old man with apple cheeks and a twinkle always in his eye. We know that it’s us, the adults, the parents, who will provide whatever gifts we can reasonably provide.

Yet there is something so moving about a child’s sincerity. Their mistaken belief (that there is a Santa) can lead us to long for the days when we (if ever we) believed in that benevolent, altruistic old man. It is of course akin to the belief in Providence, under whatever name we choose or grew up with. I hear people talk about how their “relationship” with their deity fulfills them, nurtures them, makes their lives better, makes them better as people and sees them through the hard times. And how could one not want that?

If I believed, though, my world would have to be totally different. You cannot un-see the things you’ve seen; cannot unlearn your life’s education by experience. If I believed, I would have to be someone else. And the thing is, I used to be someone else. I used to believe. I was brought up in a basically Catholic household and, like most children, I accepted things my parents told me were just simply true. I asked the kinds of questions kids ask, and I got the kinds of answers kids get, including the “Well, son, God works in ways we don’t always understand” type of answer. And this might have been enough to keep me keeping on with my family’s religion. To paraphrase what the Bard wrote: I could have been bounded in a nutshell, and counted myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I had bad dreams. Those bad dreams were not just dreams, of course; they were bad experiences that shook my whole little world to the core and broke its foundations.

For some people, this is exactly what brings them to a religion. If I believed, I’d cite those horrors as being high among my reasons for my belief. Really, though, those horrible experiences were simply what unmoored me and set me adrift. I can point to them now and say that they are, collectively, the straw that broke the camel’s back, but the things that led to my atheism were spread out over a much longer period and perhaps were rooted in the days before so many terrible experiences had come to pass.

If I believed now, it would have to be in an entirely unfathomable deity beyond any hope of interaction. If I believed now, I would no more accept Jesus than I would Vishnu or Mithras or Mohamed. If I believed now, I might actually hold all the New Age stuff in even more contempt.

Those wistful feelings I have… I understand them in myself. It is not that being an atheist is somehow inherently lonely. Atheists have the same world believers have. Atheists have families and friends and social lives just like anybody else. What atheists lack is a delusional, childlike buffer against the realities of the world. And sometimes it feels like that’s a real loss. When someone else can take up a rosary or join hands with their friends and pray that things get better, I can only look on and shake my head. Only action in this world gets results. As has been demonstrated time and again, prayer has no effect whatsoever on the odds, the statistics, the real world outcomes of events. There is no Santa Claus.

Augustine with his mother, Monica

Augustine with his mother, Monica

Tertullian

Tertullian

If I believed, my beliefs would have to take the real world into consideration. My deity would hear no prayers. My deity would be essentially amoral and unconcerned with what we do. My deity would be beyond good and evil. My deity would effectively act (if that word could be considered applicable) as if it didn’t exist at all. But I don’t believe. Nor am I a fool. There is no reason to believe in that which effectively doesn’t exist. Let the Tertullians of the world say, “Prorsus credibile est, quia ineptum est“. Let the Augustines practice their rhetoric. And let them leave me in peace. I have put away childish things, and I have turned away the “innocent” comfort and the tortured apologia.

Sometimes I suffer a wistful feeling, and that’s only natural. Life is unapologetically difficult sometimes, just as it is beautiful at others times without asking for credit.

Category: Atheism, Personal, Religion/Spirituality  | Tags: , ,  | Comments
The 33rd Humanist Symposium
Sunday, March 01st, 2009 | Author: Moody

“Many persons have no idea of what constitutes true happiness. It is not attained through self-gratification but through fidelity to a worthy purpose.”—Helen Keller

Mission Statement: [The] purpose of the Humanist Symposium is not primarily to criticize religious beliefs or debunk the latest superstition, but to offer and discuss a positive alternative to belief systems based on the supernatural. [From Ebonmuse.]

Welcome, friends, regulars, and first time visitors, to the 33rd Humanist Symposium! We’ve much to discuss, as ever, and only so much time in our busy lives to do so, I know. Yet it is certain that we need to take this time to peruse and pursue the topics at hand. As humanists, we are confronted with a world poised on the edge of an enormous valley whose plummeting depths are shrouded by perpetual mists and obscuring shadow. It is the Valley of Change and Interesting Times. It is also known as the Valley of Uncertainty and Potential. We all know this awesome valley from personal experience, certes, but each of us has her or his own take on it.

Here is a chance to lend an ear to what others have to say, gathered here for the nonce on this windblown overlook on the Kalends of March (a number of us wearing Darwin tee-shirts, I see), as one by one, alone or with friends, we plot our course into the future that awaits us.

The following works can serve, I think, to help us consider the topics we have to deal with, and help us to choose a path down into and through the valley.

In “Anti-atheism and anti-theism“, Faithlessgod would have us consider our attitude toward theists and how that attitude effects the ongoing dialog between believers and non-believers. Are we all supporting double standards? Does the Golden Rule still apply? How’s our footing?

Meanwhile, in “The Renaissance of Atheist Evangelism“, Ebonmuse, of Daylight Atheism, takes on the usual criticism that “atheist evangelism” is something inherently bad for atheists and the atheist cause generally. A healthy attitude is of invaluable assistance on these slopes.

Negotiating the scree with care, in “Why Evangelical Humanism?“, She Who Chatters makes a solid case for humanistic evangelism being a necessary tool for constructing a better world for all.

Ivaluthy Mahendran shares that vision. He has looked upon the hardship of the world and is ready to shout, so that the valley echoes, “I Have a Dream!!!“—it is a dream of getting through the valley.

In “The Brain, Engine of Creativity“, BlackSun expertly defends the fruits of the Enlightenment against the malaise of New-Age unreality as typified by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love. Wishful thinking makes for an unreliable guide in dangerous places.

Down into the valley we make our way, and the paths we choose will ever require us to pay attention and to move with care. The Mystic Atheist believes we must pay attention to the old stories told in the valley by the theists. He shares his ideas in The Word of Science: A Story Still to Tell.

While over at Distiller’s Corner, Burak Bilgin considers “A Paradigm Shift for Self-Actualization“. What do we expect to make of this journey?

I humbly submit to the symposium the powerful speech given by author Haruki Murakami on the occasion of his being awarded the Jerusalem Prize for the Freedom of the Individual in Society. It is called “The Novelist in Wartime“, and it presents an admirable statement all humanists can support. Our duty as humanists is clear; our responsibility is to help, as best we may, those in danger of falling.

Russell Blackford highlights one of the constant dangers we face on our journey—the slippery slope that ends in a social pitfall—in “Geert Wilders should have been allowed into the UK“, posted at Metamagician and the Hellfire Club.

And the Examiner.com: DC Political Atheist Examiner, Paul Fidalgo, says in no uncertain terms that “The sorry excuse of offense” must go! We can’t stand still and argue about the danger of avalanches or we won’t get anywhere.

But—no offense intended—Zach Alexander really thinks we also should “pay attention to the aesthetic message our ads send, not just the literal message”, in “Ugly Atheist Buses“. Think of it as being dressed properly for the long trek; you know a well prepared hiker when you see one, right?

In “Curiosity and the ‘Shut Up, That’s Why’ Argument“, Greta Christina admonishes us to both keep up the discussion with friends and family who may not share our views, and to understand where they might differ from us in their conversational expectations. The message is clear on this journey: communication—and good, healthy, open communication at that—is a must if we are to help each other succeed.

Atheist Revolution wonders aloud about what it will take to make a more accommodating space on campus, in “Reaching Out to Atheist College Students“. How can we make the journey a little easier for those still learning to navigate the many paths of this place and time?

There are a lot of questions about this journey. There are a number of viable paths, and many more dangerous ones, and sometimes it seems that the society we live in is geared against our success. So it seems only fitting to conclude this symposium with a hopeful message, one that can lend us strength as we work on finding our way through the valley.

Tom Rees, of Epiphenom, says that a “New ARIS survey will show that US atheists/agnostics have nearly doubled since 2001″. We are not alone on this journey. This is both a reason to rejoice and a reason to consider our role in helping so many others—people who may now be embarking on an adventure that some of us have been on for some time already. I know we’re up to it.

…

A few final words. I’d like to thank Adam Lee, (Ebonmuse of Daylight Atheism), for giving me this opportunity. I really appreciate it. I’d also like to thank those who have hosted the Humanist Symposium previously—most recently, A Superfluous Ramble—and those who will be hosting it in the future—such as your next host, Atheist Revolution (on March 22nd). I feel myself to be in the best company with all of you. These symposiums are of benefit to the greater community of the world, however small and intimate they may seem, and to host one is a privilege that should always be celebrated and gratefully acknowledged.

Finally, I’d like to thank you, the readers of these posts. It feels good knowing that there are people all over the world who are interested enough in the humanist perspective to take the time to read what secular humanists have to say. I think the most important thing we need right now is an open dialog that allows for honest questions and answers. That sort of thing begins here… and in the comment sections of blogs everywhere.

Category: Atheism, Humanism, Out in the World, Society and Culture  | Tags: , , ,  | Comments
Thanks-Giving
Thursday, November 27th, 2008 | Author: Moody

It occurs to me that, despite everything wrong in my life, I am actually quite grateful for a great many things. Culture and history aside, Thanksgiving Day can certainly be a day to reflect on the good in one’s life. Whether or not you care about why we celebrate it, it can be a day to take stock of what matters in life. For the first time in a long time I am taking care on this holiday to do just that.

I am also acutely aware that what I think of as my good fortune stands in inescapable contrast to the experiences of others. For instance, I am very grateful that I have a steady, secure job that is currently offering me overtime. Even as many people are presently wondering how on earth they’re going to find a new job since being laid off, I am enjoying a sense of permanence. The bank I work for is one that did not need any money from the recent bailout, having stayed clear of the mortgage/home loan market and so having escaped the fiasco of its collapse. In fact, my department has recently added some new clients and business has gotten more brisk and robust. Also, I am working in a department with people I actually (in a general sort of way) like. And these people like me, too. So I am thankful for being fortunate right about now, but I am worried for those people whose jobs have failed them, people who are now wondering how to make ends meet without a sense of when the next steady work may be found.

As an atheist, I of course do not think that I am “blessed”, or think that “were it not for the grace of God” I’d be in some worse place. Such thinking lends itself to the idea that those who are in a worse place are there because “God” does not favor them or because they’ve somehow come to deserve their misfortune. At the very least, one would have to suppose that “God” was testing their faith or something. I don’t think that’s a healthy idea at all. What makes more sense to me is that life is hard, and the complexities of our society sometimes work out against people and sometimes for them, regardless of who they are or what they think or do. Anyway, my sense of gratitude is non-specific and unharnessed. What it means to me is that I become more conscious of myself and others as equals in the same world.

Over the last few years I’ve had plenty of opportunity to view life from both fortunate and unfortunate sides, to greater and lesser degrees. No matter what the situation, it’s given me reason to be more conscious of the world I live in and the life I have to lead. I am grateful for all the lessons I’ve had the opportunity to learn. I am especially thankful for the good others have done, and for the chances I’ve had to do good. I have learned that doing good for others is its own reward, but that I cannot always do good for others just because that’s what I want to do. I have seen, better than before, how complicated our interactions can be. But I have also seen that there are a few things that, if we are lucky, are simple and important. So I hold the door for strangers, and pick things up that others have accidentally dropped in order to give them back, and offer smiles and kind words whenever possible and appropriate. I do my best to smile at children and give people the right of way. I am thankful for the opportunity to do so because I know that it frequently leads to good feelings for everyone. It is, I think, self-evident that doing right by others is the surest way to invoke a genuinely healthy society. Being good makes the world a better place. How could anyone not see that? I am grateful that I see it so clearly.

I have also seen my partner struggle so hard to deal with her periods of illness. Her pain has touched me time and again, and I have seen her at times fight with all she has left not to give up. I am grateful for having had all the opportunities I’ve had to support her, to comfort her, to assist and aid her, even as it breaks my heart that she has suffered so much. She has done her best for me in a myriad ways. She has always striven to help me see that the better side of life is the one to focus on, that my own health flows from the side of me that empathizes with others, the side that seeks understanding and comprehension. She has done more to teach me, for myself, what a man should be than anyone else. A good man is the same as a good woman; in such light, differences of gender perspective are, in the end, simple and subtle nuances to be noted and let go of. I offer my partner what she needs, as a man, as a lover, as a friend and companion. I am thankful for my ability to love her so well. I am grateful for her love of me. I am thankful for love.

Today I want to express my gratitude for my friends as well. I am a difficult person to know at times, but my friends have accepted that about me and continue to put up with my moody silences and opinionated attitudes. They seem to find something worthwhile in me and it makes me want to bring that out more. I try harder because of them. I also try harder because I want to show them that they matter to me as well. Honestly, even if I did not personally know them I’d be rooting for them. My friends are good people. They do their best, and even when things aren’t working well for them and they feel like nothing’s going their way they are still such inherently good people. I have faith in them, that they will work things out and find their way back to the good life they deserve. When they are happy, I am happy. There are numerous people out there who I don’t know very well at all, but from what I’ve seen of them I can only hope that they find much to be joyful about in life, because they’ve certainly done good in my esteem. I cherish all you good people and am thankful for your efforts in life. Your actions inspire me to strive to do my best.

Today I want to express my gratitude to my parents. Life has been long for them, turbulent and filled with complications fit to break most people. They have learned a lot over the decades. Now, as my mother’s life draws to its inevitable conclusion, she still finds the time to express her love for me and my sibs and the life she’s had. Despite her suffering and pain, she never fails to tell me that I bring her joy and that she loves me. My father has done his best as well, and has helped me when he could ill afford it, because I am his son and he loves me. I am thankful for all they’ve done, more than I could ever say. I am humbled by their lives and the efforts they’ve made. Even in their past failures there was a kernel of the utmost integrity of character. They have been true to their world, as I’ve been to mine, as we all are. It pays to remember that the world is not perfect. There is always room to grow, and the only real crime is failing to make the effort to do just that. My parents have made that effort, and will continue to do so until they are no more. I am grateful for the example they have made. I am thankful for their love.

There is much today that I am thankful for (my full stomach, certainly, and the hard work of my partner’s mother in preparing such a sumptuous repast), and I doubt that I could put it all here in one post. From my perspective there is no inherent reason for me to be here, or to be at all. Life just is, and I have simply found myself in it. There are reasons I behave as I do, in the broad sense. Certainly, I have learned from science about the history of life on this planet, and my place on the great tree of life. Here am I, hanging out on this amazing little branch, poking out into the vast universe of existence that continues to grow and flower as we continue to grow and flower. Even as I know how I got here or, rather, how I came to be possible, there has never been another me and my experience of life is unique, even as it remains a common life in many ways. How could I not be grateful for my life? Nothing said it had to be or was destined to be or was created especially. Life is, it seems to me by its very nature, a surprising thing. I continue to be amazed, even as I come to better understand that I am alone responsible for how I deal with it. I am grateful for the opportunity to learn, to be responsible for what I learn, to accept that no one can escape that responsibility (one can only do poorly by it).

I hope that you and yours have a wonderful day, and that you find much to be thankful for.

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Evolving, A Mind
Friday, January 18th, 2008 | Author: Moody
“You can’t be a rational person six days a week … and on one day of the week, go to a building, and think you’re drinking the blood of a two thousand year old space god.”—Bill Maher

Let’s make one thing clear from the outset: Whatever I might prefer, I shall have no say in whether our boy chooses of his own free will to be an atheist, a monotheist, a polytheist, a pantheist, an animist or a panpsychist. He shall become what he will. What I care about is that he is well-educated and is able to understand the difference between a scientific theory and an unscientific or non-scientific belief. That said, it follows that I want for him, regardless of his chosen belief system or lack thereof, to understand that life evolved and continues to evolve on this little blue-green planet. I want for him to understand that the theory of evolution—as set forth by Charles Darwin and others, and thence, with the gleaning of ever more data, modified by countless scientists over the next hundred-plus years—represents the ongoing efforts of a great many scientists to explain, elucidate, explicate, clarify and interpret how evolution works, and that the theory is not “just an idea” or “belief” maintained by a few dogmatic scientists as they stew in a fancifully conjured but non-existent hotbed of righteous controversy. Put another way, I do not want our boy’s developing mind to be waylaid by the twaddle, bunkum, poppycock, bullshit and ultimate drivel espoused by some very vocal ignorant twits who believe literally, like half-witted naïfs, in what the Bible (or any other so-called sacred text) says. I want the boy to have uncommon sense, the kind that comes with much education taken to heart.

When a child, not yet 10 years old, attempts to tell an “anti-evolutionist” joke but is confused when you state that the theory of evolution does not say that we “came from monkeys”, one can be fairly positive that some irresponsible adult is behind the effort. When that same child then states that “evolution isn’t real” and claims to know this because he is “a Christian”, there can be no doubt whatsoever that some ignorant and twittish adult is behind it. In the case of our boy, it is his ham-fisted biological father who is attempting, with the guidance of a domineering white trash wife, to warp his mind. It’s the sort of thing that can make you throw up a little in your mouth. I mean, his bio-dad and step-mom are the kind who have a giant “Jesus Freak” sticker (in scratchy ‘agitpop’ lettering) on the rear window of their car.

I stand firmly with Dawkins and others who state simply that the religious indoctrination of a child is child abuse. A child, however precocious, is highly unlikely to understand that there is a significant difference between what is called a scientific theory and what is called “God’s revealed [or 'living'] truth”. When a parent says that something is true, a child is likely to believe it, especially when the parent attributes that truth to an even greater parental figure in the sky who the parent worships. Children are naturally gullible and credulous. They must rely on the experienced comprehension, the seasoned understanding, of their parents. This is not a bad thing, because trust in what a parent tells you may save your life or will at least make your life easier. But for a parent to selfishly mislead a child in the name of a highly questionable fantasy is… wrong, abusive, sick. I expect, of course, to be told that raising a child as a de facto member of this or that religion is normal, natural and good; that it introduces morality, otherwise presumed absent or somehow immanently inferior without it; that it may very well save the child from eternal damnation at the hands of an all-merciful, all-forgiving, all-loving “God”. Personally, I call that supreme, unadulterated, 100% bullshit. I say that that’s exactly the kind of drivel that makes a person puke even through the angry laughter of disbelief.

You may call the process of brainwashing indoctrination normal, but you should remember that it was once considered quite “normal” to beat children (–which, I know, you “spare the rod and spoil the child” types still think it should be so considered), and to keep slaves, and to treat women like chattel and indigenous peoples like plague (often while violently forcing their religious conversion, no less). “Natural and good” are, taken together or apart, suspect from the get-go. When you define nature in creationist terms, positing a supernatural agent as the author of all nature’s laws (which said agent may break on a whim), then I must look askance at anything you might call “natural”. The same goes for your idea of what’s “good” when, according to your beliefs, “good” is whatever “God” says it is. When you can read about “God” ordering the slaughter of men, women, children, babies (born and unborn), and say that it’s “good”, for whatever reason, then I must hold your concept of “good” in contempt.

As for morality, “God” is neither required nor suggested; the word’s Latin root, mor-, simply means ‘custom’. The morality of the Bible is preserved as an historic religious record of a relatively small number of people who lived over 2000 years ago. As a book it is biased toward promoting the view of certain sects of the time while denigrating others, and has a subtle pro-Roman stance. The historicity of many of its books is dubious (where the book in question is not already utterly beyond such consideration; e.g. Genesis), and the preposterous claims liberally sprinkled throughout the pages of the books it comprises are completely undermining of any respectable assertion of Biblical authority a reasonable person might make. I would dare go so far as to say that this is true of most so-called “Holy Books” the world over.

It is, frankly, horrifically despicable to inflict upon a child the notion of damnation, to fill his or her head with images of an all-powerful “God” condemning unbelievers and failed persons to eternal torment. When you consider that one of the people threatened with this endless wailing and gnashing of teeth is one of the child’s parents…. Well, it’s sickening. How could that not be damaging to a child’s developing mind? What a din of cognitive dissonance! How could that not create an unbearable helplessness and thus necessitate a split from the parent ostracized by “God”? How could that not succeed at being isolating in terms of the child’s sense of place in the greater world? A scarring shame should be visited upon any adult so selfishly motivated (by delusion or stratagem) as to poison the healthy development of a mind. And yet it is that a great many people around this country would consider me to be in the wrong.

Some would suggest that they would only teach “God’s love”, charity and kindness, honesty and good will. They would say that those other people are simply misled. But I say bollocks to that! It’s a cop out. Unless you’ve revised your own Bible (or Koran or whatever) or otherwise bowdlerized it–which, so far as I am aware, would make you a heretic or blasphemer–then you are copping out when it comes to a) the truth of what’s in your so-called “Holy Book” and b) dealing with what it is your fellow adherents believe that book to mean. If those other people are wrong, then isn’t it up to you to prove it to them, to enlighten them, to shun them if they will not see reason? If you allow fanatics to scream their misunderstanding as if it represented your religion, as if it were the “gospel truth”, then are you not tacitly allowing that they are merely more vociferous members of your congregation who say what you will not? Are you afraid of schism? Are you afraid of drawing attention? Are you afraid… or just indolent or cowardly? If your “Holy Book” says some rotten things, shouldn’t you deal with that? If the banner of your religion stretches over twisted trolls whose sickness you deplore, shouldn’t you expel them rather than accept the degradation of your fine beliefs? Shouldn’t you be most vocal about it?

As for me, I see no saving grace in religion. I don’t care what goodness it supposedly inspires, because goodness does not come from it; from what I’ve seen, real goodness comes despite it. Real goodness may sometimes ride on the back of religion, as one might ride a mule, but it is more honorable when it walks on its own two feet, under its own power. In the case of our boy’s bio-dad and step-mom, they’d let the mule of religion trample him while they waved to “God” and whispered surreptitiously to each other about how pleasing it would be to watch their enemies burn forever. Sick delusions often have real consequences.

In the boy’s name I will fight their influence, and I will do so with my love for him.

Listening to: Leonard Bernstein & London Symphony Orchestra – The Rite of Spring: V. Games of the Rival Tribes via FoxyTunes

Category: Atheism, Evolution, Personal, Religion/Spirituality, Science  | Comments
The Broad Theater of a Culture War
Sunday, April 08th, 2007 | Author: Moody

They talk without being criticized nearly enough:

“When the Christian majority takes over this country, there will be no satanic churches, no more free distribution of pornography, no more talk of rights for homosexuals. After the Christian majority takes control, pluralism will be seen as immoral and evil and the state will not permit anybody the right to practice evil.” — Gary Potter (Catholics for Christian Political Action)

They get free time on the airwaves and are paid by flocks of the faithful to guide them:

“I know this is painful for the ladies to hear, but if you get married, you have accepted the headship of a man, your husband. Christ is the head of the household and the husband is the head of the wife, and that’s the way it is, period.” — Pat Robertson (Christian Coalition)

They hold positions of governmental authority and have great influence on public policy:

“The ‘wall of separation between church and state’ is a metaphor based on bad history, a metaphor which has proved useless as a guide to judging. It should be frankly and explicitly abandoned.” — William Rehnquist (Chief Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court)

They would teach our children:

“The Christian community has a golden opportunity to train an army of dedicated teachers who can invade the public school classrooms and use them to influence the nation for Christ.” — James Kennedy (Center for Reclaiming America)

– They are the American Taliban.

Like it or not, we, as Americans, are involved in a culture war as surely as Middle-Eastern nations are involved in one. It is a war of ideas — ideas that make policies — the outcome of which will determine who controls America. Lately the focus has shifted to an especially anti-science tack, but it is still a part of an overall strategy by a vicious core of Dominionists whose goal is nothing less than the theocratic take-over of America.

It’s a long way from my childhood. Sitting here writing this on Easter — a holiday that means nothing to me now — I can’t but be drawn back to my childhood. I was raised as a Catholic during the liberal ’70s. The church that my parents, and therefore I, attended had long-haired twenty-somethings in front of the congregation, sitting there in blouses and flowery skirts, corduroy pants and peasant shirts, playing acoustic guitar and bongos, and singing about the “Unity of All Humankind”, and the most often repeated message was that love, acceptance and compassion were the truest and best characteristics of a great human being. It was as progressive a church as you were likely to find, really. Which is not to say I understood or even knew then about the Roman Catholic message or the history of the Church.

And that’s sort of the point. Had I been a faithful member and grown up believing, never seeking to plumb the depths of its secretive mind, it is not at all unlikely that I’d have accepted whatever moral and political positions the Pope dictated. I would have done what my parents did, or at least done as they ordered. I would have taken for granted the righteousness of my faith and turned scorn on anyone who called it into question. I do in fact gratefully credit my basically liberal education and temperament for brining me to my senses.

America is, to its fortune, filled with a plethora of cultures, ethnicities, faiths and philosophies. Many of the faiths found in America are ostensibly Christian. And quite a few of these Christian faiths are evangelical or fundamentalist. The numbers of adherents they possess gives them a sense of security in their beliefs; the larger the flock, the greater the courage of ease. I think it is fair to say that the average worshiper is not concerned so much with how his or her personal faith interfaces with the political realm; she or he will vote for the person or party that attracts the majority of the flock or the one the shepherd touts as best. This is certainly understandable. But it also sets up a situation where the average worshiper may wind up as a tool used by those whose agenda is essentially at odds with the supposed core tenets of the faith, and given enough time such leaders with ulterior motives can sway entirely the faith of the congregation, perverting or repurposing it to satisfy their own ends while maintaining the illusion that they are serving the community of believers.

The culture war in America is centered around the conflict between the Dominionists’ and (at the risk of sounding glib) non-Dominionists’ opposing Weltanschauungen. Specifically, in America the enemies of the Dominionists are most often pluralists, socialists/Marxists, and secular humanists, but it would be remiss to fail mentioning that Dominionism is also completely opposed to womanism/feminisim, anarchism, and, ultimately, democracy itself. In fact, if there is anything akin to Dominionism, in theory and initiating praxis, it is straightforward fascism (a point that David Neiwert of Orcinus has eloquently driven home a number of times). To that end the Dominionists have campaigned surreptitiously to recast “Jesus” as something of a Billy O’Reilly-Graham hybrid. The “meek and mild” shepherd model is out, the sword-bearing Savior is in. This image better sustains the political fire fueling the Dominionist machine for several reasons, but the most important reason it is useful is that it mobilizes otherwise pacific Christians in a military way. Naturally, the “War on Terror” has helped the cause. Coupled with the particularly bellicose and morbid fantasies of the very popular Left Behind series, the “War on Terror” is a banner to fly over the “Army of Christ” as it marches to apocalyptic war against its adversaries, personified and demonized as “Satan” and “the Anti-Christ”. What is immediately apparent, too, is that the idea of who a ‘terrorist’ is or can be comprises any and all who oppose Dominionism and its politically charged evangelical ideals. A war on terrorists would to some degree require specific geo-locations to serve as “battle fronts”, and this was almost the case early on when the “Axis of Evil” propaganda was in vogue. But a war on terror itself needs no place, no specific location in the world, because terror is a ubiquitous, polymorphic force with a surprisingly plastic definition that can just as easily turn up in the shape of your neighbor as in a plane crashing into a building.

The theocracy envisioned by the Dominionists (and their allies) is deadly to the democracy painstakingly brought into being by our flawed but far-seeing signers of the Declaration of Independence and Constitution. Theocracy is anathema to anyone who supports the idea that “Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed” (The Declaration of Independence) — a concept that has in fact been attacked by a large number of people both in and outside of governmental offices. In our government’s offices the expected belief in [the Christian] “God” has made the job of the Dominionists easier. Certainly such an expectation of belief has been bolstered by the ridiculous institutionalized act of swearing on the Bible, an act which, like any professed belief itself, has failed to ensure anything in court or in any other circumstances; liars lie regardless of oaths. It might be wryly observed, based on recent history, that those most likely to swear on a Bible are exactly the ones most likely to lie.

In any case, I don’t think that the majority of self-proclaimed Christians in this country want to live under theocratic rule, and I am willing to bet that a great many of them would be more than a little uncomfortable with the goals and methods of the Dominionists. And it should go without saying that thinking Americans will always be, by default, against any form of theocracy, however apparently benevolent in intent, but especially one that is so steeped in arrogant nationalism, misogyny, homophobia, racism and xenophobia. Though faulted a country it was and remains, it was not the American way during this country’s formative years to accept the rule of tyrants, dictators, or kings. I don’t think that that has changed, really. But there is always the danger that — failing the eternal vigilance of those who know better, those educated people who have learned from history — the liberties we as a nation have cherished and striven for will be taken from us by people who in their ignorance, pride, and thirst for power, who in their desire for security and an absolute authority to follow unquestioningly, who in their bitterly rueful naïeveté and all-too-knowing selfishness will sincerely believe they are doing the right thing (if only for themselves and their kin). We have seen it before, and we ourselves have all but done in whole peoples following such desires. Must we do it to ourselves at long last? Are we doing it even now?

We must each remember the parting shot of Patrick Henry — “I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!” — and we must set them to a purpose better suited to the global village we inhabit but a corner of; we must make it our hue and cry in the name of all people, of any faith or none, regardless of race, creed, color, ethnicity, and irrespective of gender and sexual orientation. We must bring down the Dominionists and their schemes for an American theocracy. It is long past time for leaving behind our childish things, our black-and-white thinking, our selfish sense of superiority and righteousness. There is too much at stake, and there is so much to learn from the world.

. . . . . .

For more information regarding this topic, please see First Freedom First. Please also check out the Blog Against Theocracy.

Category: Atheism, Politics, Society and Culture  | Comments
Thoughts on a Sunday
Sunday, March 25th, 2007 | Author: Moody

The weekend comes, the weekend goes; the work week looms on the horizon. I think a lot about my work week for a number of reasons. I recall the lines from the World of Skin song, “24 Hours”: “24 hours split three ways. Because you bought one third, you own everything.” My days at work are not so bad, really. My days at work are dealt with. I go, I make the effort, I do my best, and in the end they tell me that they appreciate me. And then there’s the fact that they pay me. There’s just enough money in my bank account — never mind the overdraft charges — to keep the world from rending my flesh, to keep the world from snapping and splintering my bones. I need my job, and I am grateful that they appreciate me. I am five nines certain (haha) my job is safe and secure… and that I am, by extension, safe and secure.

Still, I know that I’ll be the only one showing up in a shirt with the likeness of Hunter S. Thompson on it. Trust me on that; not a single person at my job even knew who H.S.T. was. So it should not be surprising that I am quite sure I’ll likely be the only one ever to talk about anything outside the — to my eyes oddly coffin-shaped — box of broad social mores, American culture (defined by the vox populi) and whatever pop music/TV/literature permeates the air where I work. I know that this is in part because they know, as well as I do, that work is “not the place” for philosophy, art, politics, religion, sexuality, or other discussions of intimately personal import. Risking a test comment in those areas now and again has only ever led to glazed-over eyes and the apprehension of an imbalanced discomfort that quickly corrected itself with an uncomfortable silence. Sadly, safer topics like, say, space exploration and the sciences have proven themselves to be of no interest to my coworkers. They are, for me, a front row ticket to the theater of wistfulness. So in the end it is simply my misfortune that those are just the things that make me feel alive in the world.

I don’t know what there is to do about it, but I think I ought to, for my own sake, do something. Kisha has suggested to me a few times now that I need to make friends outside of work (other than her, my best friend and true love, of course). I’ve not got the foggiest idea how to actually go about doing that, but…

Life seldom seems to give without a bit of taking, to build without a little destruction, to improve without some fraction of degradation. Life is an ongoing practice in sacrifice… of the bridge, baseball, chess or insane variety, I know not from day to day. What I do know is that one can sacrifice everything — and remember that ‘to sacrifice’ means ‘to make sacred’ — and wind up with nothing, which on some days truly makes me wonder if indeed nothing is sacred. Of course, if you have nothing to begin with then perhaps the sacrifice is worthwhile. And maybe it is that I am deluded in my thought, in my feeling, in my belief, that I once had something. Something, that is, that I wouldn’t ever sacrifice willingly, because it was truly sacred already anyway. I really don’t know. And, you know, the truth is that I don’t think there is a metaphysical holiness to life; life is not inherently “sacred” — it’s just life, and I have to be the one who decides for me what that does or doesn’t mean. That is, I don’t think there is some sort of Platonic argument to be made for an essential, archetypal, transcendent, universal form of “holiness” or “sacredness”. I find the belief in such to be, for far too many people, the first step to boorish codswallop and aggravating woo-woo, which all too often rush on to churlish zealotry and belligerent ideology if left unchecked.

Semantics and whatnot aside, it pisses me off to no end when certain people in the world imply that an atheist can’t understand what’s sacred, what’s holy, what’s worth or due great admiration, reverence or veneration. That’s just the ill-informed nonsense of people who can’t think outside the box, or who don’t properly know what’s actually in the box. At its root, sacred, related to consecration, basically means “dedicated as holy”, and at its root holy is related to the concept of wholeness. So these ideas lead most people back to “God”, because “God” is seen as the force/being that/who makes everything whole. Put another way, they see “God” as the “universal form” or quintessence of holiness, not to mention its conscious arbiter. It is easily argued — and I dare say rightly — that this is not at all necessarily so, and that there are plenty of reasons not to assume so. For an atheist, for me, the goal of apprehending the wholeness (or holiness) of life is an ongoing quest of comprehension (or consecration).

I want very much to bring that goal with me wherever I go. I don’t ever want to forget that that is the process I am dedicated to. Call it my religion, if you want.

In its etymology the word religion means (or so it is generally agreed upon) “to bind together”, so it would not be too gauche for an atheist to say that the apprehension of (i.e., the grasping and laying hold of) the wholeness of life is for her or him a religious process, in other words it is a process of taking that which has been laid hold of and binding it together so that it may be comprehended in the light of the whole. Such a religion shall ever be, I’m sure, very personal and particular to any given individual, but there will also be a great deal of universal material provided by the arts and sciences and by the fact that we are, as humans, as mammals, as animals, as living beings, greatly alike one another in myriad ways. This is already necessarily true, after a fashion, of religions with a “God” or “gods”, but the abrahamic religions that most of the world’s people follow — and that the rulers of the currently most powerful countries in the world believe in — are built on faulty premises, overrun with contradictory ideas, bogged down by questionable interpolations and doubtful interpretations, tangled in misinformation and ignorance, and are, as “timeless truths” go, sorely outdated.

Any human endeavor that might be called religious in the sense I’ve outlined above will be prone to error at some point. That is because it is a human endeavor. It seems to me that the safest way to navigate betwixt the Scylla of fanaticism and the Charybdis of nihilism is to never forget that what one believes must forever be in review, it must be falsifiable, and one must remain open to changing one’s mind in light of new data that calls for such change. We must deal scientifically with our personal religion.

If I am ever to make friends then I will have to find people with an understanding at least similar to mine. I see them often enough on the Web, but with only a couple notable exceptions such friendships have never lasted long or come to fruition. After all, I live in the United States during, as Eric Frank Russell or Terry Pratchett might call it, interesting times. My country is steeped in all manner of foolishness, and though there are many good people attempting to flush out the nonsense there is yet a great deal of happy, affirmative consensus, even among those “on my side”, on matters I find contrary to me and painfully stupid. Al Gore is a great man, for example, and I’d be happy to be his friend, but that doesn’t make his “God” real, and I cringe whenever he starts in with his beliefs. Still, I have broad hopes among my peers. It is possible that some day, some stranger will appear in my life with an extended hand and a knowing smile. It has happened before. And, really, I have to admit that I am not going to be satisfied with anyone who, when contrasted to the people I work with, is less than exceptional. But I know in my heart that it’s possible I’ll meet someone good for me. And, really, I’m willing to sacrifice something for it.

Category: Atheism, Out in the World, Personal, Religion/Spirituality  | Comments off