“Islamic” terrorism or just terrorism?

American policy currently avoids the term “Islamic terrorism” and “Islamic radical” to—if I understand the president’s position—avoid appearing to be at war with Islam. Republicans, though not themselves addicted to calling a spade a spade, see the Administration’s persnickety word crafting to be indicative of weakness, as if we aren’t quite sure whether the terrorists are Muslims or Methodists.  

So while Republicans and Libertarians are attacking what they see as the president’s inaction (or hiding while Rudy Giuliani “rages against the dying of the [spot]light”*), Democrats are scampering around deciding how to argue the point. If the president’s reasoning doesn’t catch on, they don’t want to be caught on the wrong side of the argument. And after all, the Islamic State’s profession of faith is a just a wrongheaded perversion of Islam. It isn’t the real thing. Right?

OK, I’ll give the president the benefit of the doubt as to whether refusing to verbally tie terrorism to Islam is a tactic needed to keep Islamic countries—those that are ostensibly our allies—in the fold. After all, if we are against Islam, as possibly signaled by linking radicalism and Islam, Saudi Arabia and friends might be offended. I don’t mean to sound snarky; there may be serious, even judicious geopolitical reasons for a little obfuscation here. The president might be correct or not; I can’t tell. But what is more important is that his detractors can’t either.

But just between us bloggers, we’ve no diplomatic niceties to worry about. And in view of that, let me say that the radical, extreme Muslims of ISIL, Al-Qaida, and the like are just that, Islamic terrorists. I do understand that all Muslims are not terrorists; I even understand that no more than an incredibly small percentage of Muslims are terrorists. But that minority status in no way stops them from being real Muslims, nor does it stop the minority from being a tail that wags the dog, as terrorist groups have historically often done.

The church of my youth claimed to be the only real Christians. Baptists, Catholics, and Mormons were perversions of Christianity. Similarly, the Catholic Church saw itself as the real Christianity and Protestants the perversion. Only a few years ago after I referred to the horrid acts of Christians in the Dark Ages, a close Baptist friend let me know that those things were done by Catholics, not Christians!

So exactly how do we as non-Muslims decide which Islam is the real Islam and which the fake? In fact, how can Muslims decide that except by using the egocentric solution—a method not known for its integrity?

It seems popular among Western leaders to say that the Islamic State is a perversion of Islam, therefore not really Islamic. As if to prove that point, the theological subtlety was cleared up by President Obama when earlier this month he assured us that “no God condones terror.” (George W. Bush got us accustomed to having a Pastor-in-Chief, so perhaps I should give Obama a little room on this. . . . but I won’t.) Oh, that helps a lot.

I wonder where he got that sentiment about gods and terror. He surely didn’t get it from the Bible or the Koran, each chock full of God-condoned human violence on large scales as well as small. Like the shameful Viet Nam War statement that “we have to destroy a village to save it,” Christians have used terror, mass killings, and vicious treatment to spread or reinforce their idea of godliness. My point is not that Christianity and Islam are or have been equally cruel–and certainly not in the present age—but that the notion that no god condones terror is patently ludicrous. 

(Parenthetically . . . should we have used, when applicable, phrases like Catholic Inquisition, Baptist lynching, Anglican persecution, Calvinist witch-killing, and other similar pairings of violence and perpetrators?)  

In short, there is no way to distinguish between real Islam and perverted Islam. They are both perversions of reason and that, in the long run, is the more salient travesty. We are left with (a) the unsatisfying definition that Islam is anything someone self-declared as a Muslim says it is and (b) in the late 20th and early 21st Centuries, religion-linked terrorism is almost entirely a Muslim phenomenon.

[*I so much wish I’d thought of the “raging” quote. But, alas, I must credit the creativity of Wayne Barrett or Paleo (sorry, I can’t be more specific).]

 

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Does Giuliani love America?

I know. Stupid question. Meaningless to ask; impossible to answer. To a biased observer, however, the question (or allegation, if so worded) is enough to get the intended point across; it is much like being charged as a child abuser. “Have you stopped beating your wife” is a similar tactic. Armed with only a healthy lack of ethics, one can destroy an opponent. Playing to a crowd of partisans whose interest in truth is overpowered by interest in gaining political points yields a cheap political win.

Rudy Giuliani played that dirty game last week, questioning President Obama’s Christianity and his devotion to the country. It wasn’t just a slip of the tongue, for the former “America’s mayor” kept up his unscrupulous attack even until today.

On Sunday news shows, several Republican stalwarts, some seeking their party’s nomination for president skillfully avoided answering a journalist’s question to share their judgments on Giuliani’s statements. The reactions of most of those asked (given my limited exposure to interviews) expressed either no opinion or a tepid one, quickly followed by a change of topic. After all, Rudy loves America, knows the intricacies of terrorism, and is understandably upset by Obama’s failure to deal decisively with Islamic terrorists. The unstated, though clearly implied, allegation is that if Romney had won six years ago, things would be entirely different.

There’d have been no Benghazi, no “leading from behind,” no loss of Syria, no executive action on immigration, no IRS politicization, and so forth. Well, it could be true; all might have been milk and honey. Maybe. We’ll never know. But the allegation is a tactic which, wearing the garb of righteousness, cannot be disproven. The only available guide we have is the old hiring maxim: the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior. President Bush’s administration, brandishing the sword of state committed the country to a couple of trillion dollars, thousands of lives, and a thoroughly upset Middle East balance of power in order to deal with a lesser volume of terrorism. Perhaps it would be unfair to ask how that came out.

My distress in watching the Republican politicos’ slimy behavior was (a) partially that I know Democrats can play the same games, but (b) mostly that Americans apparently cannot see the obfuscation or, at least, cannot see it when it comes from our own partisan corner.

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National Prayer Breakfast 2015

Despite the warnings of our founders about mixing religion and government, proponents of religion call upon government to support their teachings whenever possible. That runs from the schoolroom to the halls of the White House and Congress. Well, it isn’t religion in all its uncountable stripes, but ones in the majority or with the most political clout.

Americans have gotten used to the National Day of Prayer (in May) and the National Prayer Breakfast (the 2015 instalment just ended in Washington). Persons committed to slowing down and, if possible, stopping the piggy backing of religious belief on government power oppose these incursions, frequently to no avail.

Everyone knows religious belief has a thousand faces, often in direct opposition one to another, all without evidence figuring in their provenance. Being without evidence calls for fighting hard to maintain converts and, when possible, special social and governmental favors. Nor is fighting dirty out of the question, leading to civil shaming, special rights for favored religious bodies, frank discrimination, horrendous persecution, imprisonment, torture, and death.

The worst of those treatments have in Western civilization been curtailed in severity and frequency by Enlightenment advances (largely opposed by religions and the religious as they occurred). To see religion in the absence of those Enlightenment-spurred advances, consider the Dark Ages of the West and Islam in the present day.

In addressing the National Prayer Breakfast earlier this month President Obama made the politically risky mistake of reflecting on Christianity’s most shameful centuries, though not in an effort to comment on the truth either of Islam or Christianity. He focused on the self-serving tendency in any faith which tends toward seeing “the mote in [our] brother’s eye” while ignoring “the beam [in our] own eye” (Matthew 7:5). He referred to the “Crusades and the Inquisition [in which] people committed terrible deeds in the name of Christ,” then, bringing it closer to home, “slavery and Jim Crow . . . justified in the name of Christ.” At no point did he attack the dogma or faith of Christianity, but did scold our very human tendency to “get on a high horse” over even the mention of our own “motes.”

I took that admonishment to be true not only of Baptists, Catholics, and Muslims, but of atheists as well (though he did not single us out). “It’s not unique to one group or one religion,” he said. “There is a tendency in us—a sinful tendency—that can pervert and distort our faith.” He is, obviously, kinder to religion than I would be, for I think there’s plenty of evidence that religion presents not only modeling for moral behavior, but modelling for atrocious behavior, all in the same book. However, the president was on a tear about motes and beams, a lesson we can all relearn from regularly. (On the other hand, why any president, including Obama, thinks he is elected to be our theologian-in-chief mystifies me.)

Millions of reasonable Christians, honestly open to criticism likely heard his point as intended and agreed with it. But as could have been predicted, the hypocritical high horse syndrome took over, especially by people with a vested interest in finding fault with the president whatever he says or leaves unsaid. Representative of the high horse ilk, former Virginia Gov. Jim Gilmore, called the president’s comments “the most offensive I’ve ever heard a president make in my lifetime . . . [a bit of overreach there, Jim? JBC] He has offended every believing Christian in the United States. This goes further to the point that Mr. Obama does not believe in America or the values we all share.”

Apparently, one of those values is that anyone’s questioning or criticizing Christian misbehavior is offensive. Another is that it is OK to lie about that which offends us or to alter the facts just enough to spread our rewrite as if it were truth, such as one I just heard, calling Obama’s remarks a “blast at Christ and Christianity . . . in the absence of any similar repudiation of Islam’s ‘prophet’.” I looked in vain for a “blast” at Christ that would have called for a balancing treatment of Mohammed. I looked for a “blast at Christianity” as well, but found only a blast at the human foible exhibited by the faithful of any religion.

Let me say that an easy “out” here is to say that Christian conservatives will misrepresent and lie to make their point. However, that would be a cheap shot because it implies Christian liberals and people of no faith at all don’t do the same thing. Frankly, it is distressing that our moral codes seem not to deal with this type of “bearing false witness” and that those who go furthest to claim the moral high ground are among the worst offenders.

American founders went out of their way to avoid establishing the United States as a “Christian nation,” despite the currently popular Christian right revisionism and its discredited “historian,” David Barton. Yet Christians (mostly) and religious Jews (somewhat) will cross the line toward theocracy as much as others’ tolerance allows. (Muslims as a group certainly would, but thankfully don’t yet have the necessary numbers in the West.) Accordingly, the National Prayer Breakfast acts as if it theologically represents the country as a whole and the government of this country. This NPB, by the way, featured sports figure Darrell Waltrip; preaching that “if you don’t know Jesus as your lord and savior . . . you’re going to hell.”

Remember that this was a high level event, one that has almost attained a governmentally sanctioned role in the political calendar. By its very nature as well as its development, it promotes a favored religious voice while denying others (can you imagine access to the podium by an Islam apologist, Mormon, Christian Scientist, or the late Christopher Hitchens?).

Keep in mind that my comments are not at all related to religious freedom—the liberty to define and to practice one’s faith. But it does bear on what in economics would be like the government “picking winners” among industries and companies . . . and is even more corrupting. In America, the phrase “religious freedom” has and deserves huge emotional and political support. This country was fortunate to have been founded in part on that freedom of conscience.

But religious freedom does not mean—as phrased in the subtitle of Robert Boston’s book, Taking Liberties—the “right to tell other people what to do,” nor to get the government on your side against all other religions and non-religion. We do not need the governor, school board, or city council to be our preachers. We certainly don’t need the president to attend to the fine distinctions of theology (weaving a safe course among the slight but highly charged differences) along with national defense, fiscal policy, and the White House National Easter egg roll as well.

Mixing religion and politics, giving government a voice in the religious “public square,” and having government endorse selected religious beliefs bear a frightening similarity to the theocracy favored in the Islamic world.

Posted in Church and state | 1 Comment

Finding unbiased news

In a political discussion last year I accused my correspondent (politely, I hope) of intentionally seeking out biased news sources. He confronted me with a question that—if I may translate loosely—was “OK, wise guy, where can one find unbiased sources?”

Whatever our philosophical differences, he’d gone right to the crux of the matter. As convinced as I was that his choice of news input had been thoroughly biased, on this larger question I was as stumped as he. As most of us do, of course, I have news sources I trust more than others. But I’d never been challenged to explain why my favorites were not simply those that fit my biases—the same failure of diligence I’d accused him of. Embarrassing.

The question of unslanted political information is a vexing one. Dealing with it poorly not only endangers the promise all fair and liberty-loving people hold dear, but spits in the face of whatever shreds are left of American exceptionalism.

Our founders and writers of the Constitution envisioned a country with unparalleled suffrage for that time, flawed to be sure, but subsequently described with characteristic élan by Abraham Lincoln as “of the people, by the people, for the people.” Thomas Jefferson and others pointed out that vesting the authority of a body politic in its citizenry could not work long if they failed to be informed and to participate. The founders’ reach exceeded their grasp as growing pains made clear that Lincoln’s beautiful expression did not apply to blacks and women. Further, even among the enfranchised, the requirement that citizens be well informed was handicapped immediately, as distressingly played out in the bitter presidential campaign of 1800 in which disinformation was splattered across the land.

Our news sources today are both more immediate and more numerous than ever before. But a constant stream of information doesn’t mean we are better informed, no more than standing in front of a fire hose means our thirst is better slaked. News sources themselves are motivated to get our attention and to stay in business. Moreover, no matter how fair-minded their intent, economy of space and time requires them to decide which news to present and which to disregard. Their choices alone cannot avoid implying this is important and that is not, even if reflected in so unavoidable a way as selecting some news for the front page or the top of the hour. How can it even be possible to make those determinations totally free of pre-existing values about their importance?

Pardon my pessimism, but I’m convinced that the bias problem is and will remain integral to the dissemination of public information. The problem is only negligibly addressed by switching the dial or buying a different newspaper. The frightening truth may well be that having accurate, unbiased, and available information is unattainable. Oh, some types of information exist for which we rarely need to be concerned about bias. But public decisions are awash in values, fears, hopes, loves, and hates such that the accuracy of news, say, on police brutality, minimum wage, political negotiations, Keynesian effects, and estimated throw-weight of Russian missiles is always suspect.

So what do we do? It seems safe to assume that politicians, press, and other possible informants with access to accurate information do exist (thought often even that is not true.). With some exceptions, then, we can say there actually is a reality to be described and persons somewhere who possess that information to describe it. That’s worth saying because there are those who take the position that there is “your truth” and “my truth,” but no absolute truth. I disagree with that hyper-relativistic stand; I’ve not given up on the “fact of facts,” and am unwilling to retreat into a post-modernist, info-nihilist position that there is no truth, just opinions. At any rate, my assumption puts the onus on unbiased transmission of information, not its existence.

Transmission, by its nature, includes a sender, a message, and a receiver. In this post, I’m not concerned here with what a sender should do, but how we receivers can be minimally influenced by senders’ biases. Here are some of the tactics many fair-minded persons take to one degree or another. Perhaps the times, marked by widespread partisan extremes, require that we get better at them:

Opposing sources. Wisely, they seek information from opposing sources, particularly ones they don’t agree with, remembering that the effect of one-sidedness is cumulative. It is not that one must always avoid sources one agrees with, but it is best to treat them as a person given to overweight should treat cake and ice cream. Indulge yourself, but keep in mind the tendency to be caught irretrievably in the vortex, never again to emerge with one’s independent judgment intact.

Faux accumulation. They try to avoid what I might call “cumulative bias,” that is, allowing one biased position to be the basis for the next—thereby assuming the first to be true—and so on until the structure of biased thinking masquerades as a framework built on fact. It is as if previous arguments, even inadequate ones, stand as evidence for ensuing ones, so that the greater number of previous ones, the stronger the faux evidence appears. Written as an equation, this is like 0+0+0+0=4. If that is convincing, 0+0+0+0+0=5 is even more so.

Improbable perfection. They attempt to avoid a source that is unable even to consider weaknesses in its own arguments. There are precious few positions taken or interpretations rendered for which there are no downsides or, at least, reasonable counter arguments. We can watch for errors made in topics on which we ourselves are well-read, since if our expertise discerns some of the source’s pronouncements to be wrong, we know we should consider that more errors are occurring in topics on which we cannot expertly judge.

Arguments ad hominem. They recognize that shoring up an argument with ad hominem references is a weak argument. We have a human tendency to personalize, as if it contributes content to an argument. Sources that demonize or canonize cannot be trusted to stick to relevant facts when they get a chance to take cheap shots safely.

Conflict of interest. They suspect commentary rendered by persons who have something to gain financially or otherwise. Think Congressional hearings on the danger of smoking or on banking regulations.

Dogmatic belief. They know that although enthusiastic, true believer advocacy for an idea or course of action is not therefore biased, the probability exists for its overlooking contrary evidence or assigning greater certainty than would a disinterested evaluator.

Irrelevant, biasing criticisms. They dismiss criticisms that are used not to inform but to themselves bias or agree with biases. Consider Mr. Romney’s income tax rate and Mr. Obama’s “you didn’t build that” statement, both removed from context and used to smear even though neither was relevant to the issues.

Expert-choosing. They know to ask why one expert is chosen over another to support a news source’s point of view. We expect disagreements among experts, but the field of 95% of experts cannot be represented by the contrary (though possibly still accurate) view of 5%.

Skepticism. They can employ an unhostile “show me” attitude of simply honoring straight talk and unbent facts, even while avoiding cynicism. Perhaps this is the general, overall strategy that runs through all the other tactics.

That list and associated tactics used regularly by many is not remarkable, possibly provoking (and deserving) a “duh” reaction. But its more bothersome shortcoming is obliviousness to the elephant in the room: The list takes for granted that as citizens we are motivated to find accurate, unbiased information and are willing to be fatigued hyperskeptics in order to find the needle of truth in all the haystacks. However, the truth is more likely that we’re willing to settle on a source we can count on to at least massage our tired biases. Staying vigilant is just too much work for citizens who have other important things to do in their lives.

What’s omitted in the list is the weakness of assuming that we actually want unbiased information. My conjecture after spending some time worrying over this matter is that our need to hear our own biases protected and presented back to us is so great that we can confidently postulate that on the whole our stated desire for the unvarnished facts is a psychological cover for not wanting unbiasedness after all.

I have a strong respect for the marketplace as the default mover of goods and services whether its use is in economics or in ideas. Where there is a demand, there will develop a supply at a price. So it is with news sources. My proposition is that (a) if citizens strongly demanded unbiased news sources, then over time they would be supplied, and (b) widespread citizen apathy (or downright rejection) about unbiased sources could be predicted to lead to the situation that we actually have. That is doubtless an insufficient proof for my hypothesis, but it may be a weighty indication.

We know our human need is to hear things we wish to hear and our desire to re-order whatever we hear into an agreement with our biases. Scientific studies of perception suggest not only that we do that, but that to some degree it is impossible for us not to do it. A huge need for truth is needed to overcome apathy, fatigue, and beloved or comfortable biases. We the people are conditioned, socialized, propagandized to seek like minds, especially about controversial issues or ideas. Our upbringing, our gender, our chronology, our ideologies and most of all Madison Avenue (or whatever passes for marketing) push us in certain directions, and rarely is that direction toward a commitment to truth.

Maybe, in the longer run, the long arc of history bends toward integrity of reception as well as transmission (to borrow and adapt shamelessly from Martin Luther King), but I despair in my lifetime of seeing that come to pass.

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A handshake with deism

I’m an a-theist, but am also an a-deist. At the level of discussion, I enjoy arguing with both theists and deists. But, contrary to what you might think, I’ve no problem with deists.

By and large, theists who ask, “Do you believe in God,” do so as if their definition of God is the same for everyone. (The capitalization is a give-away, since Christians call their god “God,” that is, as a name rather than one of a, uh, species.) Capitalizing also reflects Christians’ monotheism; it wouldn’t do to have several gods named God. Deists might reply that they, too, believe in God and, moreover, that their God is also a singleton. Deists could believe in multiple gods, I suppose, but who’s ever heard of polydeism?

So what is the difference? There’s more going on here than just a religious disagreement. Nothing is noteworthy about simple disagreement; after all, “God’s Truth” comes in a myriad of favors, some sparking wars. Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Baha’i, and a few other faiths are built firmly on theism and would collapse if their adherents became deistic. Pretty important difference. Deists seem to be as convinced in the deity as theists and can easily fly under the radar, since they aren’t atheists or agnostics.

A number of America’s founders were deists. Unlike me, an atheist, they did not shy away from speaking of God just as loudly as theists, even if often with poetic license. Thomas Paine’s deism got him all but eliminated from our all-star founders list. “That dirty little atheist,” Theodore Roosevelt called him. Although he is said to have created the name “United States of America,” and is lauded by some as ideological father of modern democracy, only six attended his funeral. On the other hand, Thomas Jefferson and other deists pulled it off, beloved to this day even though most of today’s Christians wouldn’t want their daughters to marry one.

So why, if I don’t take issue with deists, am I invested in their cause? The reason is simple. Although deists can’t see how our universe including us could have come about without a creator-intelligence (agreeing about that with theists), their conclusion on the matter doesn’t cause them to push others around. There may be some whose personalities dispose them to be bullies, but their ideas of God will not.

Their God is not a punishing (or rewarding) deity, does not impose extensive lists of ludicrous “sins,” leaves humans to use their intelligence to construct a morality that serves human welfare rather than slavish God-pleasing, and would never punish the innocent for the acts of the guilty. In other words, their God—though powerful and possibly omniscient—gave the universe its start, then got out of the way.

I think the reasoning that leads to deism is only conjecture, but unlike religions that accompany theism, it does no damage. It is not relevant to leading our lives any more than would figuring out the mystery of dark matter. That makes it an enjoyable topic to debate, not a repository of ancient ignorance wielded as dicta.

Religious persons are eager to expound on the necessity of an intelligent creator, but even if they are right (it is possible), their position is not necessarily pertinent to religion, as they assume it to be. Even certainty of a creator leaves unsettled whether he, she, or it has the characteristics any one of hundreds of religions dogmatically assume (see “What’s God have to do with religion?” on this blog, Dec. 21, 2013). Moving from deism to theism requires the resolving of a myriad of competing choices among the deity’s (or, indeed, deities’) characteristics for which no evidence is available. Beliefs of bronze age tribes, it should not need to be said, is not evidence.

In the choices of living a life, there is no discernable difference between deists and atheists. A god that chooses not to interfere in or in any way relate to our lives is like the Andromeda Galaxy, a wonder and delight, but that is all. Deism, like atheism, invites us to tickle our fine brains with finding the meaning of life. Theism already has the answer, it claims, and invites not thought but obedience, not continued struggle to produce an ethical and gratifying world but suppression of human intelligence.

Posted in Atheism and other freethought | 1 Comment

Escaping the evil of sin

I am going to bore myself with this topic quite soon, but I’m compelled to go just a bit further due to a comment I received. Whether one agrees with my position not, I would’ve thought my somewhat idiosyncratic differentiation of sin and evil was clearer than some others think it was.

However, I may have learned something from being asked for further clarity. For persons steeped in—or better still, reared with—frequent dialogue on and concern about sin, it is tricky to grasp a system that is unconcerned about sin, but quite concerned about ethics. (As a quick restatement: Ethics in my differentiation covers a morality in which neither gods nor supposedly god-generated sins are relevant. Specific religion-based morals and ethics may occasionally overlap, but be driven by different sources or rationales.)

Presented with the sin/ethics distinction I’ve drawn, persons might honestly struggle with trying to marry the two systems, to define one in terms of the other, or to pick and choose cafeteria style. Good luck with that. Perhaps it can be done, but I’m happy to have a simpler task.

The easy approach is merely to disregard sin entirely as if you have never heard of such a concept . . . no god(s) laying down the rules about how we should behave toward our fellows. Start merely with that challenge and see where a naturalist search takes you. By “naturalist” I mean a process that does not depend on entities or phenomena presumed to exist outside the natural world, therefore not amenable to being proven or disproven.

Contrary to religious claims, this is a task within your ability if you are careful not to start the assignment by adding up sins religion has taught you. Most religions tell you that you can’t do what I’ve prescribed because you need an unseen supernatural source to do it for you. That is patently false. A divine dictator is no more critical for us to have a sense of ethics than it is for us to then live by that code.

For persons who’ve largely been handed their religion’s pre-packaged list of sins, I recommend at least an hour concentrating seriously on a hierarchy of ethical principles (again, with no consideration to what your God is said to have imposed). You might begin with the broadest (the Golden rule isn’t a bad place to start), working your way into more specific, less grandiose principles. Don’t worry if a sin or two slips temporality into this work as long as you proceed the way I’ve said. After all, it isn’t as if all religious sins are useless in a consideration of humanistic ethics, but their reason for inclusion cannot be their religious pedigree.

If you are brave enough to go deeply and conscientiously into this pursuit, then (but only then) read to see what other thinkers have said. Maybe they can be helpful, but don’t treat them as God substitutes. Remember, this is your endeavor. With that proviso, sources like these may help: American Humanist , Free Inquiry, and American Atheist magazines; books such as James Q. Wilson’s The Moral Sense, Michael Martin’s Atheism, Morality, and Meaning, an English translation of Immanuel Kant’s Grundlegung, and parts of Dale McGowan’s Atheism for Dummies. There are many more useful sources, for philosophical inquiry into ethics has a long history and a wide expression. You might also see what came from the pens (keyboards?) of modern secular humanist philosophers like the late Paul Kurtz.

I have done this for years from the top down, so to speak (starting from the broadest level as just demonstrated), but also from time to time calling to account something in my own code left over from my Christian rearing, much like dust under the bed that escaped cleaning. Such unnecessary baggage doesn’t make one more ethical. It isn’t as if the more restrictions a person can put on oneself the better; that would be tantamount to self-flagellation. Not only do unnecessary, self-imposed limits (like many sins) rob some of the rich color and joy of life, but easily contaminate one’s human interactions by unintentionally guilt-tripping others.

I hope these comments help with whatever was not clear in the previous posts. Still to come is a post upon an actual listing of my own personal understanding of secular humanist ethics, though not, as I vowed, further explication of the differences between (secular) ethics and (religious) morality; I am leaving that behind. Now I want to focus, as the phrase as evolved, on being good without God.

Posted in Secular humanism | Leave a comment

Sin and evil

The post on sin (the most recent one) has stirred interest. One respondent feels the word is too negative, though surely the Biblical idea of sin is about as negative as it can get. If sin is tantamount to kicking an almighty creator in the shins, you bet it’s negative. To treat it otherwise seems—from a Christian’s perspective—a massive papering over of its seriousness.

Another asks (facetiously?) whether I think “evil” as well as sin is perpetrated by religions. In a word, no. Evil is a word widely used in non-religious discourse, while sin is largely confined to religious dialog. Sometimes they overlap, most spectacularly in the Golden Rule (no, the Hebrews weren’t the first to come up with it). The problem with sin is that while it does encompass in its meaning a lot of what most people, including nonbelievers, would agree is evil, it perpetrates a great deal of its own. Supporters of slavery were able to search their sin lists in the Bible and find it not only omitted, but arguably supported. Catholics in Ireland did not seem to find mistreatment of “wayward girls” to be a sin worse than the sin it was designed to address.

Religion is a spotty and frequently horrid source for what is evil, though I’ll have to leave the definition of what constitutes sin to those who propose to be spokespersons for a god. If they say lust is a sin, well, it is their word and I’ve no choice but to leave it to them. I am interested in discussing evil (relying on no religious source), but avoid implying any credibility to the intellectually vapid concept of sin. Oh, by the way, I apologize for leaving Judaism off the list of sin sources. Jews beat Christians and Muslims to it, of course, and do not deserve to be left off that particular hook.

It is easy to see that while failing to keep the Sabbath is a sin for Jews, it isn’t evil. Birth control may be a sin to Catholics, but no one would call it evil. A majority of southern Christian churches in my lifetime maintained a “see no evil” attitude toward mistreatment of blacks because, I must assume, they did not see it as a sin (though bikini bathing suits were). What secular humanism does is ignore what supernaturalists assume they can believe into existence, then get on with figuring out what does damage to human beings, converting avoidance of those evils into the negative side (the “don’t do it” portion) of humanist ethics.

By the way, the humanist approach to ethics bears no resemblance to “if it feels good, do it.” Humanism does avoid the petty restrictions that make up much of Christianity’s sin list, so in those instances greater human pleasure and less stultifying guilt are pleasant side effects. Avoiding the pettiness, through history humanism has confronted more momentous matters, ones that Christianity at its best has sometimes finally caught up with. But since the Christian world (and, I assume others) spreads intentional untruths about unbelief, I’ll assume that comment came from a pulpit somewhere inasmuch as lying for the faith is apparently not a sin. In any event I am convinced now that a post in this blog should soon cover humanist ethics. Stay tuned.

Posted in Secular humanism | Leave a comment

The sin of sin

I’ve been pondering sin lately—not sinning (as in a pastime), but sin (the concept). In short, it is a primitive and ridiculous idea. Besides leading to burdensome, unnecessary guilt, it impedes ethical progress. In other words, sin itself is a sin.

Sin is a religious notion, religions’ ill-conceived attempt at ethics. Sin enters the consideration of ethics through the back door, for the nature of sin is not the product of meticulously pondering what limits we should place on ourselves in order to best live together. Sin comes to us from antiquity, from primitive sources, from superstitious people—fabricated from their fantasies, inflicted on us by their leftover fears, and forcefully imposed daily by the pious.

Sin is not only an unnecessary and unreasoned concept, but competes with thoughtful development of human ethics. Arguably, deciding how we should treat each other is as important among human challenges as how to acquire clean water or to eradicate disease. It deserves all the intelligence and compassion we can bring to it.

I’ve a correspondent whose most cogent attack on atheism is that, in the absence of supernatural guidance, we humans would be left adrift. Like Adam and Eve before their fall, we’d be in a quandary about what we should not do. To him, his God not only defines sin, but is the indispensable author of the rules. Without a divine source, we are left in the frightening state of relativism. Those who believe in his God are expected to adopt the divine definitions without question, regardless of how mindless they are. In fact, violating the rules is less heinous than questioning their authenticity.

If self-imposed restrictions on believers went no further, non-believers could simply ignore the idea of sin as just another product of superstition. But apparently to be a good foot soldier for God calls for trying to eradicate sin among those who believe differently. So it is that religions—not all, but at least the fundamentalist wings of Christianity and Islam—seem hell-bent (so to speak) to enforce their God’s pronouncements on others. (Or, more accurately, enforce their various and conflicting interpretations of what this God decrees.) Enforcement takes many forms, but all impose social and even physical damage to transgressors and dissenters, and even upon carefree souls who just aren’t paying attention.

There are countless examples in modern life. Public school officials in the United States, even while aware they are violating the law, continue to inject their ideas of sin into education. In communities, clergy take up arms against liberalizing alcohol sales, citing scripture as the reason. Gay marriage is opposed despite its posing no threat to churches’ private definitions of marriage. The Catholic Church has fought against contraception and even information about contraception. To most Muslims, depictions of Mohammed are not just sins for them, but for everybody else on pain of death. The list of cruel attempts to control others is inexhaustible.

In other words, fundamentalist Christians and Muslims want their ideas of sin to be recognized and heeded by everyone. Each uses whatever force it can get away with to do so. Happily for dissenters like me, Christianity was reined in somewhat by advances in Western Civilization, for which we have martyrs of the Enlightenment to thank. (The churches did not voluntarily give up control over others.) Islam, still stuck in the Dark Ages, has not yet been tempered by a similar Enlightenment.

Perhaps the most obvious weirdness of religious morality with respect to its definition of sin is that it is so disproportionately concerned with sex. In fact, although sin covers more than sex, the degree of emphasis on matters sexual is almost comical. When someone is accused of “immorality,” you can safely bet that the infraction is in some way sexual. While the humanistic approach to ethics is concerned with a person’s effect on others, sin is often victimless. How else can we construe the sins of masturbation, nudity, or lust? Christians’ and Muslims’ sex-obsession causes their sense of morality to be genitally focused.

I’m amused when a media outlet seeks statements from religious leaders about some local issue that their religions deem to be a moral one. What on earth do preachers, rabbis, or imams have to offer about morality that so undeservedly commands our attention? How can they possibly be considered experts? Their whole foundation in the matter is one in which social and personal proscriptions are based on the tired fragments of ancient texts. We have had centuries of their religion-based ideas and have repeatedly found them capable of justifying slavery, racism, oppression of women, and other damaging treatment of human beings. Their combined counsel has been handicapped by the basic flaw of all religion: dogmatic assertion of that for which they have no evidence and dominance of bogus god-pleasing over the needs of human beings. Even the so-called “original sin” consisted not of harming people, but of seeking knowledge (escaping ignorance) against the wishes of God.

Of course, religions have recognized as sin a number of universally acknowledged prohibitions, such as those of murder, lying, and stealing. But though the faithful frequently try to take credit for those contributions to human ethics, these sins pre-existed their religion and are easily derived without positing a supernatural guy in the sky to promulgate them. The “golden rule,” for example, preceded both Christianity and Islam.

Religion confounds sensible, humanistic proscriptions—ones not unique to their own dogma—with ridiculous ones so much that good rules are soiled by association. (Have you read Leviticus lately?) Consequently, religions in their articulation of various sins have come up with some real doozies. It takes but a cursory review of religions’ positions taken even in our own lifetimes in the name of morality to find that morality defined by religion can itself be egregiously immoral.

The human race deserves never-ending discussion of morality unencumbered by superstition and inclusion of the ridiculous. Such an undertaking is not easy under the best of conditions, but is greatly hampered by religions bringing to the task not only their own counterfeit ethics, but their ludicrous claim to have the blessing of divinity. Their feigned divine definition of sin causes otherwise useful thinking to be entangled with the hocus-pocus of religion.

Gods seem unable to pass down a sensible pro-human code of conduct that isn’t cluttered with rules that have little to do with human benefit. (The Hebrews’ Ten Commandments are a shining example of silliness mixed with morals already known.) Consequently, just as religion interferes with conceptualization (e.g., a geocentric universe, God-initiated plagues), confronting new technologies (e.g., birth control, stem cell research), law (e.g., drug possession, retail liquor sales), and civil rights (e.g., race and gender-based discrimination and suffrage), it similarly impedes moral development in general.

Perhaps we can cleanse the sin concept of its absurdity and repulsiveness, but I prefer to discard the word altogether. It’s beyond delousing. Ethics is a perfectly good substitute, one not so burdened with ancient foolishness. Our race of magnificently developed beings needs useful, shared rules of relationship–lest we rather than our environment be our worst obstacle. But an honest search for a code of behavior that befits a caring and intellectual species has little to learn from Christianity and Islam; their tenets are neither reasonable nor humane, and their claims of authenticity are based on lies.

In my own consideration of so important a pursuit, I’ve found the code of ethics generated from secular humanism to be unsurpassed in coherence and humaneness. The morality of religions, steeped in superstition-driven concepts of sin, is the real sin against our struggle to learn how to live together.

 

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Responses to parts of the comments received for this post through January 17, 2015 are addressed in the next post (“Sin and evil,” January 18).

Posted in Morality, Religion's costs and foibles | 4 Comments

Dying

I’ve been thinking about dying. Again.

Regrettably, I must spoil the drama of that opening assertion. I am not planning suicide. I have no known terminal disease (except, of course, life itself). I am not depressed, nor even given to melancholy. I have recent, very expensive medical evidence that I am far healthier than my 76 years would suggest. And, most of all, I love life! It is warm and satisfying, it’s an adventure, a continual experiment, and a daily treasure trove of new and engaging information. I am fortunate beyond belief and I love living!

And it will end. Probably not tomorrow or even next year. But, come on, I’m 76; envisioning another 20 years stretches my imagination. If the universe offers more, I’ll take it if I can happily do so, though I strongly demand my right over my own life.

So why am I thinking about death? The reason is partly my evolution-bestowed big brain, complex enough to consider its non-existence. We are alone in that mixed-blessing among the millions of other species. Another reason is that death is such a fascinating subject it cries out for attention. We all know life, but we know death only secondhand. To me as a secular humanist, there’s no life after death, so my interest is not compelled by thoughts of an afterlife. A Christian reader’s comment on my last post (“God is love?” November 23, 2014) suggested that he and I will find out in only a few years who is right (no doubt with our tickets stamped to different destinations), but I disagree. I expect to get no answer at all. In fact, I expect to know nothing about the event of my death.

I mean that just the way it sounds. You folks may know I am dead, but I won’t. I may experience dying, but I will not experience death. (Woody Allen’s quip, “I’m not afraid of death; I just don’t want to be there when it happens,” may be funny, but also rests on a truth.) My ability to know anything will have come to an abrupt end. In fact, even the possessive pronoun, “my,” will have outlived its usefulness and become suddenly a nonsense word. I won’t have opinions, fun, pain, or taxes . . . and I won’t have a body either because there’ll be no “I” to have anything.

I will not even have a history except that which lives in others, thereby having become part of their histories rather than mine. The previous “I” will have occupied, say, 85 of the 13,800,000,000 years of our home universe. To say that I am insignificant—except to a mere handful of people during an infinitesimal period—is itself a mind-numbing overstatement.

I conclude there to be no afterlife because I find no reason to think there is. Can I be wrong? Of course. But the universe guarantees me no bragging rights since if it turns out I’m right, I’ll never know. Well, wait, I could be a little bit right if I’m wrong, for perhaps there is an afterlife, but not what’s expected. I submit that if there is life after death, it is not likely to be what religious/superstitious people believe it to be. Why? Because there is a nearly infinite number of ways an afterlife could be. Yet for any one Christian, Muslim, or any other believer, the presumed nature of the afterlife takes only one specific form. Christians like to think of an afterlife as described in the New Testament, a dual place of infinite reward and infinite pain overseen, respectively, by Jehovah and Satan. Not only do other religions see it differently, there are an uncountable number of alternate scenarios that no human has yet thought of.

Even if there is something rather than nothing, it is anybody’s guess whether it’s pleasant or painful, whether we know each other again or not, whether it then ends in a second death that might be final or just the next in a series. Moreover, we might not survive death as individuals, but as some de-individualized blend of our erstwhile human spirits, a post-corporeal smoothie. The possibilities are as eternal as the topic. However if you are tempted to dismiss my bizarre musings, I wish to point out that they are no less probable than the afterlife descriptions expressed with great certainty in millions of churches, mosques, and synagogues every week.

The only circumstances about death that we can count on to be real are these: First, it will occur. Second, it can only be confronted while we are alive. I’ve no idea what the experience of death will be like, though I anticipate we will only perceive what immediately precedes it. However, I do know what the experience of contemplating death is, for we all do that even if only by accident or when buying insurance. And like other natural phenomena in our lives, we have a choice as to how to think about it.

I elect to see death in a way that enhancing life, making it more fulfilling and more conscientious in recognizing obligations that come with being one of a community. “Fulfilling” encompasses need-satisfaction, growth in knowing, and pleasure. “Community” engages all forms of sharing life with other people—family, co-workers, neighbors, whole nations, and this globe of over 7 billion companions in the future as well as in the present.

Death is largely unimportant in that consideration except as a thoughtful inquiry. And peculiar as it may sound, consideration of death as a philosophical inquiry is actually fun. Moreover, it is not accidental that the living of life (except in actions like estate preparation to spare others) in no way includes preparation for death unless such preparation is to live as if to live forever, with the predictable knowledge that we won’t even find out we didn’t.

I am comfortable with my eventual death. (I am not, I will admit, comfortable with pain. So death holds no fear for me, but events that might lead to it do.) However, I confess to being less comfortable with the death of others. My life will be better if my wife, my daughters, my granddaughters, their significant others, and a number of close friends die later than I. My wife says she isn’t happy with the idea of my dying first and I believe her. However, that will have to come out the way it comes out.

Quite apart from the fairly simple fact of my own death, then, I have no choice but to face dealing with unpleasant sequencing in the deaths of others. So death in general has not lost its sting for me, just my own. But dealing with the death of others is not a phenomenon of death, but of life, just as the issue of an afterlife is not after life, but in it. After life, there is on this subject neither a view to espouse nor a viewer to espouse it.

Posted in Life, living, and death | 1 Comment

Thanksgiving

Today in America is Thanksgiving Day (Canada’s was last month), a federal holiday in the U. S. since 1863 during the Civil War. It enjoys widespread acceptance across all economic levels, personal philosophies/religions, geographic regions, and political positions. The iconic scenario is that of a family—some who’ve come from far away—gathered around a well-stocked table to break bread together. The practice is so a-political that the President of the United States—to the enjoyment of almost all—symbolically “pardons” two turkeys for their crimes of, well, being turkeys.

(This month’s Scientific American reminds us that in 1864 [ostensibly unrelated to President Lincoln’s action], the Peking Gazette announced that the Chinese government—upon beating back the Taiping rebellion—called for “thanks [to] be offered to the gods for their assistance” and, intriguingly, a study of which gods rendered which divine services.)

The usual purpose of the North American event is to thank the Judeo-Christian God for blessings of various sorts and, with a bit of chutzpah, asking for more, at least for another year. Normally, thanks are for many things like health, food, housing, promotions, new babies, battlefield success, and so forth. And these thanks are to one thing, God. Assuming there’s a supernatural spirit responsible for giving or allowing the good things of life, that thankfulness fulfills a humble, social obligation, not to mention staying off God’s bad side doubtlessly deserved by ingrates.

But whom does an atheist thank? After all, atheists compared to theists are as grateful for life’s rewards, as socially conscious about saying “please” and “thank you,” and as hopeful for future satisfactions for themselves and others. Are they to send thanks into a void?

Not at all. Let’s not forget that “no man is an island,” so the question is an easy one: Virtually all the satisfying, fulfilling events and materials in our lives are produced by other human beings; very few do we create ourselves. As a normal human being, I am quite aware, thankfully aware, that I grow no food, produce no electricity, build my housing, assemble my car, diagnose and treat various physical ills, nor even make the clothes I wear. This lists goes further than anyone would want to read, for it’s neither news to anyone nor unique to me.

In other words, in true secular humanist tradition, I am thankful, indeed. I am thankful to you and you and you on a catalog so long and spread that I am largely unaware of all but a fraction of the human beings who contribute to my life. Hence, this atheist’s thanks are for much and to many. Today and (if I were fully conscious) every day should be Thanksgiving Day with just as much meaning for me as for persons who believe a supernatural being had the major hand in things. I want nothing—particularly a “being” for whom there is no evidence—to dilute my obligation to recognize and appreciate those who gave the affection and friendship, made sacrifices, worked hard, and cleverly invented or produced most of the pleasures of my life.

But to whomever you give thanks today and every day, Happy Thanksgiving!

Posted in Pleasure, enthusiasm, and awe, Secular humanism | 2 Comments

God is love?

“God is love” is a comforting idea. I rather like it. But it’s more wishful than sensible. In fact, as to the Biblical God, the notion is downright bizarre.

The idea of an all-loving God arises in part because the Jehovah of the Bible says he is a god of love. If a person has already decided there is a monotheistic god and that the Hebrews’ Jehovah is that god, then the mere God-endorsed scriptural claim is all the “evidence” needed. (Without exception, religions have a low bar as to what constitutes evidence.) An additional motivation for saying God is love is that our self-preservation compels us to pacify powerful forces. With enormous consequences riding on a Godly report card, we are prone to overkill; believers understandably want to take no chances. Hence praise figures prominently in Christian theology and practice.

There is no inherent reason that gods must be loving. As I pointed out in “Atheism in tragedy and in thought” (posted July 26, 2013), a person who becomes an atheist because of a horrid personal loss is, in effect, assuming foolishly that a god must be—or should be—a fair and loving god, otherwise the loss would have been averted. But even if a real god is a monster, he, she, or it is still a god regardless of human appraisal. Indeed, whether a god is authentic has nothing to do with whether he, she, or it is good or bad. Frankly, the God of the Bible clearly does not pass the love test given any definition of the word that hasn’t been stretched into meaninglessness.

The only meaning of adjectives like loving, heartless, good, and bad are the meanings we give them. These are words of human invention that by necessity require human judgment. So if I read in the very book many Christians say is God’s word that God committed the most vindictive of deeds and plans to commit still more, I’ve no choice but to recognize God as a horrible being, not worthy of common respect, much less worship. Of course, stating that judgment aloud, however many examples can be shown in its support, is scandalizing. That conspiracy of silence is appeasement overkill; we are, indeed, frightened supplicants.

Christians, if not completely aghast at such blasphemy, are likely to argue that I’ve neither the right nor sufficient understanding to make a judgment of God. After all, God is not subject to my lowly human assessment. Good point. However, if God is far too elevated for me to render an independent assessment that he is brutal, it is equally true that God is too elevated for me to render an independent assessment that he is good or loving.

Consider that few Christians would judge the malicious acts of God with the same vigor they’d judge human mass murderers and torturers. They are quick to quote “God’s ways are not our ways” to avoid the blasphemy reason would otherwise inspire. (Interestingly, the phrase “acts of God” always refers to calamities in which people and assets of importance are destroyed.) But if human definitions of horrendous acts cannot be applied to God, what sophistry convinces Christians they can render meaningful judgments that God is good and even the personification of love?

“God is love” is thus but a mantra. Like cheers at a sporting event (”we’re number one!; we are the best!”), there is no intrinsic meaning. Its only utility is to arouse the fans, not to describe a fact.

I have to admire Christians’ perseverance in trying to demonstrate their God to be good. As if in proof, they may point out a good harvest, Uncle Jack’s miraculous recovery, their child’s surviving a wreck, the beauty of a sunset, their flood of good feelings when engaged in praise, or any fortunate event. These “proofs,” of course, prove nothing except the lack of integrity in the language of Christian practice. This post is dated right between the Canadian and American Thanksgiving Days, a time when Christians profusely, even obsequiously, shower their God with gratitude—the same God who will cast some or even most of them into eternal hell for offenses that wouldn’t even qualify as misdemeanors.

Citing instances of godly goodness while failing to mention instances of godly badness may be a good debating tactic or PR campaign, but in no way is it the mark of a seeker after truth. There is a studied exclusion of illness, pestilence, floods, and accidents for which God, given Christian logic, is also responsible. Where is that responsibility included in the theological calculation? A more honest approach would be for Christians to introduce the idea of balance, that is, the net good God has done when all his injurious and malicious parts are subtracted from the beneficial parts (unless that yields a net negative!). Even the thought of such an even-handed calculus, however, does not sit well with believers, given their need to ignore all the negatives of their God.

Frequently, Christians raise what I’ll call the matter of “God 1 vs. God 2”. Most scriptural instances of godly cruelty are in the Old Testament, enabling Christians to dismiss them as out-of-date and not relevant given the advent and sacrifice of Christ. God’s sending his son transformed Heaven’s nasty behavior into the gentleness of Jesus, the paragon of both love and good. (There’s a clever sacrilegious quip that the rough edges of many men are softened by fatherhood.) But Jesus—he of the acts of love and miracles of compassion—introduced a Holocaust far greater than Hitler, Pol Pot, or Stalin ever imposed. Punishment beyond imagination await otherwise good people whose crime is to find the bizarre and plagiarized Christian story less than believable.

No, Jesus is not good, not without stretching the meaning of the word beyond recognition. So excusing the horrid Jehovah because he repented and sent a gentler emissary does not compute. Was there an apology or even a recognition of the cruelty imposed by Jehovah before Jesus’s coming? Can the evil torture of everlasting fire be excused by saying it is proportioned punishment for our alleged crimes? Would we allow human parents to get away with far less abusive punishment of their child? How can a god who perpetrates even immeasurably worse cruelty be seen to be good?

Christians can talk love while persecuting, damning, killing, excluding, demeaning, and shaming in the jumble of illogic, in the twists and turns of theology, and in a use of words befitting Humpty Dumpty. Few Christians, I am sure, can see themselves in that harsh characterization; they believe themselves as individuals to be very loving, fair, and charitable. Many of them are exactly that, but individual humaneness does not negate group behavior. My extended family is almost entirely Christian, yet I know them as kind, generous, and ethical. (In America Christians by and large believe atheists to be untrustworthy, uncharitable, and unloving, so perhaps my personal behavior and ethics are similarly confusing to them.)

The contradiction can be unsettling. For now, my only resolution is that they, along with many others, are good people caught up in the widespread fantasy of a cruel god whom they must see as loving and good. In short, they are far better persons than their God, ensnared by a dogma in which love does not mean love any more than good means good or truth means truth.

Posted in Atheism and other freethought | 1 Comment

Voting day, voting daze

Today across America citizens go to the polls to choose a select group from among themselves to make governmental decisions on their behalf. We cast votes for a special few not only because there are so many governmental decisions to be made, but also  because these decisions require dedicated, specialized study. The institution of voting exists for citizens to choose persons whose values, intelligence, and discipline citizens can best trust to make those decisions. They, then, make national (or lower jurisdictions) judgments in the form of laws within which the governmental apparatus and citizens themselves must behave. The critical separation of roles is held in place according to a foundation document (the Constitution)—the stability of which is protected by a difficult amendment process.

As is true with all human invention, there are parts of the process that can go awry, no matter how genius its conception. The first, of course, is that the design of assigned roles and rules are themselves not up to the gargantuan task. Reaching a decision with a group of only two—as in a marriage, business partnership, or simply co-workers deciding where to go to lunch—is frequently difficult, much less in a town of 5,000 or a nation of 320,000,000. Yet decisions must be made. When not made explicitly, many if not most decisions are nevertheless implicitly made by non-verbal behavior itself. The latter is not subjected to the same level of scrutiny and debate as the former, thereby enabling deciders to appear blameless for the outcome. 

All of which is to say that persons of unparalleled care, wisdom, integrity, and intelligence are necessities in making the decision system work well. When all the roles in a system are appropriately designed, those at the top are charged with the longest term, highest policy breadth decisions. Not only must they understand what to decide and what to leave to others, the citizenry must understand as well. For example, as long as some body of citizens is calling for the Congress to intervene in, say, a Terri Schiavo case, it is hard for members of Congress to stay appropriately out of the matter.

Of course, if the elected officials don’t understand the principle themselves, it takes very little pressure for them to be drawn in. In fact, the political payoff renders it inviting for officials themselves to lead the way into inappropriateness. Each such elected official behavior damages the decision system and, thus, the republic, probably more than do most instances of treason.

If for no other reason, each official participating in damaging behavior like this should be eliminated from office. But, of course, that won’t happen. Voters, by and large, neither look for that level of integrity, know it is critical, nor would vote against its most extreme violators. Unless one is prepared to say that massive expenditures on political ads do not make a difference, voters can be counted on to be, well, in a word, stupid. Pity that the “greatest country in the world” haughty refrain fails to notice the shallow, fatuous focus of political campaigning.

Our country faces huge issues: global climate change, massive income gaps, spread of Islamic terrorism, failure of public education, effects of the Citizens United ruling, and more. Yet these have not been the focus of current political campaigning. Politicians mouth politically correct clichés and platitudes. They summon up pious statements about immediate, minor issues in the news just yesterday, as if demonstrating voters to be dupes marks a mature democracy. It is as if campaigning against waste and corruption is even distantly related to doing anything about mis-governing if elected; it is as if campaigning against high unemployment is related to solving the problem; and so forth. Voters watch and agree with ads by their “own side” and find fault with ads by the “other side” even when they are equally culpable. We vote, in part, on which candidate can show the cleverest frivolity; the search for statesmen and stateswomen is embarrassingly missing.

I voted in this election, but not happily. I had no joy of participating in a time-honored, proud institution. I did not do so with assurance, or even hope, that candidates I voted for are fit to govern. I did so because, while candidates’ lack of integrity is bad, candidates’ lack of integrity plus no voting would be worse. Or maybe, it was just to hang onto a shred of optimism in a system where even shreds are hard to find.

Can I say America is the world’s greatest nation? Except in military and economic might, no. In fact, in comparison to the promise it once had due to brilliant, system-building founders seizing fresh, 18th century opportunities, it is a colossal disappointment. The conduct of our elections, then officials’ performance after having won, are a study in inanity, not the “shining city on a hill” we’ve had the chance to be, and arguably what we actually were two centuries ago.  

 

Posted in Politics | 2 Comments

The epidemic isn’t Ebola

Ebola may yet cause a widespread effect in America, though it’s not at all clear that it will. Prevention and treatment have seemed to be slow off the mark, expert opinion has been modified, and the country has teetered between its usual preoccupation with TV reality shows and overreaction to ‘real’ reality. (I know; the need for reiterative wording is a depressing comment.) Meanwhile those we elect to national political office are playing their well-practiced role of partisan noisemaking and righteous posturing.

It was hard for me to watch the piety parade in the Congressional hearing Thursday without thinking that the wrong people are, as news sources put it, being “grilled,” taking time from their important work to participate in political theater. Mind you, my distress has nothing to do with a deadly Dallas mistake nor overly optimistic comfort offered by the CDC. To be sure, errors were made; errors will be made; humans make errors. The very fact that a learning curve is steep is itself testimony that most mistakes happen early in a process.

Taking a hard look at them in the service of further improvement is in order. But a witch hunt within days of the beginning of Ebola as a domestic issue is due not to officials’ anxiety about national health, but to their concerns about an election less than three weeks away. Make no mistake, the hearing and the flood of political comments have little to do with good government, but with political candidates’ appeal to an unwise electorate, the millions duped into thinking their representatives are riding white horses to Americans’ rescue.

Some Democrats and more Republicans are shamefully questioning whether CDC Director Thomas Frieden, M.D. should be relieved of duty. That silliness would be laughable were it not so irresponsible. Do Americans know that Dr. Frieden is a skilled administrator, capable of heading a large and important organization? No, we do not, for we don’t have the necessary data on his performance nor, just as important, on the nature of delegation within which he works.

My experience with government as a governance theorist and consultant leads me to doubt the managerial integrity of the system under which he and other officials operate, regardless of who is in the White House. It tends to be sufficiently slipshod as to render almost impossible the separation of poor individual performance from incompetent system design, thereby rendering politics rather than job performance the arbiter of success.

But that is not the immediate issue now. Under the best of conditions, the public’s being unable to judge the director is not surprising. Given what we know, whether he is wonderful or marginal is not discernable and the fact that mistakes have been made is no guide. That a head should roll if everything hasn’t gone perfectly is simply a sophomoric conclusion. The upshot is that we are unable to make a reasoned judgment of Dr. Frieden’s ability during this predicament. The managerial system is too disorderly and the time has been far too short.

The relevant point, however, is that the pontificating elected officials and political candidates cannot make a reasoned assessment either. “Have you no decency?” needs to be asked again. The futility of forging ahead with judgments and innuendos despite their ignorance in a hastily called committee hearing demonstrates that it is not Dr. Frieden who should be grilled and possibly fired, but his inept judges.

Posted in Politics | 1 Comment

Simplified reader comment feature

As of now, all previous posts (a few over 70) have been edited to conclude with the standard comment section most people expect to find on blogs. (Previously, comments had to be directed to a separate email address, johnjustthinking.com, and each post concluded with a note to that effect. The change this week brings my blog into line with a more familiar method of supporting readers’ comments.

The new access for readers will be the kind referred to as “modified comments.” That means I’ll have a chance to review each comment before it actually shows up “in public,” so to speak. My exercising prior review is not to silence comments that take issue with me or that come from a different worldview. But it will enable me to screen out commenters using the blog for their own personal soapboxes, overly lengthy entries, and inappropriate language like name-calling or personal attacks. And, of course, in the case of all published comments, I may choose to respond or not.

 

Posted in This blog, this blogger | Leave a comment

Freedom of religion requires freedom from religion

Among my memberships, I’m a life member of the Freedom from Religion Foundation (atheists and agnostic members) and a member of Americans United for Separation of Church and State (religious and non-religious members). I believe I am more committed to freedom of religion than many if not most religious Americans.

I’ve found it strange when religious people say that freedom of religion doesn’t mean freedom from religion. I would agree if the statement meant that no one has a right to religion-free surroundings. After all, our Constitution doesn’t guarantee us a right not to be offended. That would be as silly as it sounds, but additionally and perhaps unexpectedly it would fly in the face of religious freedom.

Conversely, religious people have no right to be saved from expressions by the non- and anti-religious. (Vast populations dominated by Islam disagree with me on that, at least for anti-Islamic expressions.) In the past few years a number of freethought organizations abandoned their usual polite silence and paid for billboards with strong messages. (The organizations include American Atheists, Freedom from Religion Foundation, American Humanist Association, United Coalition of Reason, Americans for Separation of Church and State, along with others and their local and state or provincial arms. This is a multinational phenomenon, not just American.) Some billboards declared “Beware of dogma,” “You know it’s a myth,” “Good without god,” “Morality requires no supernatural supervision,” and many other messages, including the cleverly modified (from Dostoyevsky) “If God exists, everything is permitted.”

The backlash was quick and severe. Churches demanded billboard messages not be near them or near schools (apparently religious myths are more appropriate for children). Pressures on billboard companies led to contract cancellations, and vandals marked up or destroyed many of the messages. (On “Keep religion out of government,” religion was painted over and replaced with fags.) To their credit, while they disagreed with the messages, some TV-interviewed persons-on the-street said they stood behind the billboards as an expression of an American right. The matter was newsworthy enough that even I was called to do interviews for two Atlanta TV stations.

Religions, as I have pointed out, like so much to protect their turf that they have little compunction about stepping on that of others. How much they do, I suggest, is directly related to their majority in the population and indirectly to the degree to which freedom of belief and speech have been institutionalized. (Graphing the proportion of Muslims against the dominance of Sharia law in a society is instructive.) Having God on your side can excuse all manner of hurtful misbehavior. That is why Christians spread disinformation about trustworthiness of nonbelievers (simply untrue), about the clergy’s being the natural spokespersons on moral questions (ludicrous), and about how bleak are the lives of the unchurched (just wrong). It is why they assume the right to pressure legislators and magistrates to give churches special advantages not available to others (that point is worth a blog post all by itself).

The only persons who would not be offended by such strong-arm control are members of whatever religious group is being actively bossy at a given time. United States history is not short of examples in which a given religious group has curtailed another religious group’s freedom or right to full civic participation. Catholics and Protestants. Jews and Gentiles. Baptists and Episcopalians. Church of England and Unitarians. In fact, although we teach children that Puritans and Pilgrims came ashore for the enlightened concept of religious freedom, they did not. They came for their own religious freedom, not that of others, a realization that came at a high cost to Roger Williams. The persecution of religious sects in the United States has always been by those in opposing religions, not by the non-religious. By far, then, the greatest beneficiaries of freedom from religion are believers themselves.

The matter is a rather simple one. The freedom of persons in one instance of religion must entail freedom from persons of all other religions. I am not free to believe what I wish unless others are not free to compel me toward their belief, so freedom from the religion of X is necessary to the religious freedom of Y. The subtitle of Taking Liberties by Robert Boston says it well: “. . . religious freedom doesn’t give you the right to tell other people what to do.”

Freedom of religion cannot exist in the absence of freedom from religion.

 

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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E pluribus . . . . whatever.

In a recent Sunday New York Times column, Thomas Friedman opined about the advantages of pluralism over separatism in sociopolitical organization. He mentioned the official motto of the United States, e pluribus unum. When I was a child, I learned that motto; in school it was discussed with respect to the successful efforts of our founders to create a single nation out of thirteen former colonies, one powerful body politic comprised of diverse points of view and interests.

OK, now the truth, with appreciation to Wikipedia. E pluribus unum was never declared by Congress to be the national motto, though it was part of the Seal of the United States, adopted in 1782 by the soon-to-be-retired Continental Congress and had been on money since 1975. (Those dates are prior to the country’s founding on June 21, 1788.) However, for many decades it seems to have been informally but widely accepted to be the national motto. Then President Eisenhower and the Congress, reacting to the pairing of “Communism” and “godless” in the mid-1950s, decided the U. S. should advertise its godliness by (a) formally adopting “In God We Trust” as the official motto and (b) inserting “under God” into the pledge of allegiance. The pledge in various forms had existed since it was written by Francis Bellamy and/or James Upham in 1892 (which or both is uncertain; what is certain is that it did not mix patriotism with religion).

Since in those days, the United States had no atheists, agnostics, or gays (like Iran half a century later according to President Ahmadinejad!), it escaped the notice of virtually everyone that the national piety pronouncement in the 1950s was a rejection of a significant part of unum. Well, some did notice and a few of them challenged the motto legally, claiming the Congress and President had violated the U. S. Constitution’s prohibition against governmental “establishment of religion.”

The federal court system had the same uncanny ability then as now to look at a Christian cross in a national park and see only a secular symbol, or look at a city council’s opening prayer and see only a traditional practice with no religious significance. In that vein, the late 1970s SCOTUS ruled, “It is quite obvious that the national motto and the slogan on coinage and currency ‘In God We Trust’ has nothing whatsoever to do with the establishment of religion. Its use is of a patriotic or ceremonial character and bears no true resemblance to a governmental sponsorship of a religious exercise.”

Thus the pledge that embodied citizens’ loyalty to their country despite their beliefs about religion became a religious pledge as well. Up to 1 in 10 Americans now don’t believe the pledge-named god even exists, much less that the United States is “under” him, her, or it. And the percentage of Americans who don’t wish to get their religious sentiments mixed up with their patriotism are a larger group still. It should come as no surprise, of course, that the larger religion lobby thinks as much government sponsored religion as possible is just the right thing to do.

There is, to my knowledge, neither evidence nor slight indication that proclaiming “under God” and “in God we trust” lead to a better country in any discernable way except to please theocrats and to be dragged out as “evidence” for America’s being a Christian country. There is evidence that a substantial and growing minority of Americans do not share the majority’s view that the country has supernatural oversight that must be appeased. And there is evidence that atheist and agnostic children suffer the same exclusion dynamics that Jewish children formerly did when their school room became a weekday Christian Sunday school. (I was there.)

Unum, indeed. But, hey, do those six little words matter that much? Do freethinkers and their religious colleagues who advocate for church-state separation just make too much of them? Are we just whining?

The American Family Association, with $18,000,000 annual revenue is one of the ten largest Christian right organizations. It claims to operate nearly 200 radio stations nationwide for the purpose “to promote the Biblical ethic of decency in America.” Bryan Fischer, its Director of Issue Analysis for Government and Public Policy, said this on Focal Point in September 2011: “The purpose of the First Amendment is to protect the free exercise of the Christian religion. Founding Fathers did not intend to preserve religious liberty for non-Christians [italics mine, JC].”

How far will theocrats like Fischer go not only to destroy the unum, but to destroy religious freedom itself? What happens to the freedom of Jews, Mormons, Christian Scientists, and others (not to mention Muslims and atheists), when religious liberty is shrunk to include only what Mr. Fischer’s organization decides is religion that deserves freedom?

Not shocking enough? Perhaps an opinion expressed by someone more consequential than Fischer will more forcefully make my point. Speaking in 1988, George H. W. Bush, President of the United States—not some Bible-hyped television evangelist—made this statement: “I don’t know that atheists should be considered as citizens, nor should they be considered patriots. This is one nation under God [italics mine, JC].”

‘Nough said.

 

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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The Bible gets its due . . . but no more

Yesterday I was reading a small book on marital fulfillment by a Christian friend. He’d donated it to my wife and me, understandably proud of its having been published. I don’t normally read “how to” books based on religious scripture, but was curious to find out what my respected friend had written.

Actually, if I overlooked its superstitious parts, I found the book quite good. Frankly, he’d done a skillful job of building a marriage manual on selected teachings of the Bible. Reading it led me to reflect on what I’d written in a post last month (“Respecting Religion,” Sept. 21) about the disquieting mixture of good and bad that religious belief causes in the world. It is not that religion has no upsides, but that its downsides outweigh them, and even mask the more egregious religious effects. That is, religion causes in believers a blindness to its ill effects.

In a curious twist, one of the seldom discussed types of blindness concerns the helpful parts of the Bible’s mishmash of messages. There are quite a few wisely instructive exhortations and helpful suggestions even for a secular life in the Bible. They are numerous enough to enable my author friend to frame his counsel for maintaining a loving, stable marriage. Similarly, there are other biblical entreaties that offer useful advice about friendship, business, and even citizenship. I was not surprised that his book was able to make a lot of sense, tying each part to some biblical point of view.

Except for the specifically religious references, however, there was nothing in the book that cannot be found in scores of other books, ones that have no need to claim supernatural origin.

Yet I’ve noticed that Christians are quick to praise the Bible’s reasonable parts as if the Bible originated whatever wise counsel can be found there. It reminds me of Muslims whose reading has consisted exclusively of the Koran and Hadith, thinking everything those sources present, they invented. Ignorant Christians who say the Bible is the only book anyone needs fall into a trap like that. I am also reminded of Christians who think Jesus’s miracles were something special even though those days were replete with stories of virgin births and healings. Much of the symbolism (e.g., the importance of the number 12) and specific miracles (e.g., walking on water) attributed to Jesus had been associated earlier with other ostensibly holy men.

Many religious people have a need to credit all good things to their religion, as if it is the unique and inspired source. They can then double back and use that assumed provenance to show how special the Bible is. The extent to which this deception goes can get bizarre. A present example is the risible notion that the U. S. Constitution is built on the Bible or that the Ten Commandments are the source (or even a source) of American law. Tom Paine, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and even Roger Williams would be alternately offended and amused!

My point is that religious people tend to ascribe to their holy books wisdoms that are just as present—and often earlier—in other traditions. In the Bible story of Noah (I’ll skip right past the fact that the Bible apparently appropriated its flood myth from earlier civilizations.), God’s reason for killing almost everyone was that “the earth is filled with violence” (Genesis 6:11). Elsewhere (Psalms 11:5) God is said to hate violence. My friend quoted these references as part of his well-reasoned caution about allowing violence to become even a small part of marriage. (I’ve no quarrel with his doing so, since eliminating domestic violence is important enough to warrant whatever arguments will convince people to stop hitting each other.) But my immediate reaction was to reflect on all the other biblical passages that repeatedly demonstrate the Hebrew God to be massively violent, even instructing his chosen people to be violent. (If you think that “Thou shalt not kill” really means what it says, you’ve been quite selective in your reading.)

So the Bible does offer some good advice, but interspersed with an abundance of cruelty, vast gaps in ethics, and direct contradictions. It is a mixture of occasional good thinking and an extensive pattern of primitive, inhumane, violent silliness. If mined for just the right things to say and if the seamier sides are overlooked, it can support ethical and humane conduct. That is to say, with many mental twists and turns its meaning can be distorted enough to be as caring, gentle, and fair-minded as secular humanism.

 

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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Respecting religion

I’m not concerned here with forced respect, such as saluting a superior officer. I am concerned with respect for individuals freely given, unrelated to their nationality, race, gender, status, or philosophy. In a way, it bespeaks a quiet love of people or, at least, a live-and-let-live mindset. But respect for beliefs and creeds is quite another matter since they refer to a way of thinking, a philosophy, a way of behaving. The upshot of this is that although I respect religious persons, I’ve no respect for religious persons’ religion.

To respect religion, I would have to respect fuzzy thinking, unjustified conclusions, compromised human intelligence, and a form of philosophical pollution akin to the “whited sepulchers” mentioned in the Biblical book of Matthew. Religion is like a freshly painted house, unceasingly trying to hide the rotten wood so colorfully camouflaged. Just as I would find a primitive tribe’s rain dances and animist beliefs anthropologically interesting, so I find the tenets of modern religion; that hardly qualifies as respect.

However, these sentiments exist alongside my conviction that all persons should have the right to whatever opinions they choose about reality whether or not I think they make sense. That openness, however, in no way impedes expressing my own opposing views, nor you yours. Religious views are a proposed construction of reality and deserve no special protection from criticism, though normally they seek that protection whether by social norms, government protection, or persecution, even death. In the United States, happily, only the first two are usual.

One of the great evils of religion is teaching children that unquestioning faith in deities and dogma needs no evidence, handicapping them with an understanding that facts, testing, and scrutiny are not necessary to determine truth. Just feelings, passion, and trusted authorities’ pronouncements will do, giving rise to the “I know in my heart” proof. While Santa Clause and the Easter bunny can and should be cast aside as remnants of childhood, “Jesus loves me” and “God is love”—with not a shred more evidence—are expected to continue until death. Further, though there is variation among religious persuasions, this childish brand of epistemology requires threats and promises to maintain. Christianity, for example, notably convinces adherents of their worthlessness (“a wretch like me”), then holds out its bizarre cosmology and “salvation” as a cure. Under these circumstances, having a healthy self-concept is difficult, always in need of a supernatural prescription.

That is probably why Christians are frightened of being without their faith and can’t understand how atheists can be quite as happy without any. The faithful must be constantly reminded how weak and vulnerable they are without Jesus and how dark their lives would be without him. To bolster the persuasion, there is the inducements of heaven and hell and, to support them, the fantasy of life after death. Citing or even needing evidence for these farfetched ideas is not part of the picture.

Further, should our natural pursuit of knowledge introduce a conflict with dogma, Christian hegemony allows the opposition to be brushed aside, no matter how overwhelming the data. Examples abound, including biological evolution, global climate change, geology, utility of intercessory prayer, and astronomy. Not all religions at all times have done so, but great impediments have been thrown up to block the advance of human knowledge and understanding, so much so as to be an embarrassingly significant part of intellectual history.

But is it not true that religion has been responsible for great works of charity? Yes, it has and should get credit for that. Human beings naturally desire to help sentient beings, including mostly other humans in need. Without religion, there would still be charity. I have known many good people who, through religious affiliation, have brought improved life conditions to others, social, medical, economic, and otherwise. Since Christians are instructed to “give God the glory,” it is hard to tell if religion itself is the motivation or merely the vessel for their goodness. In either event, I am happy to recognize that religious organizations have performed many good works, inspired excellent music, and encouraged great art.

Data are hard to come by, but the Chronicle of Philanthropy reported that in the U.S. the most religious section (the South; measured by church attendance) gave the highest proportion of their disposal income to charity (defined as tax deductibility, therefore including churches), while the least religious section (the Northeast) gave the least. However, if you remove the money given to churches, the propensity to give charitably is reversed, the South dropping from 5.2% to .9% and the Northeast dropping from 4.0% to 1.4%. While I doubt that research like this is very precise, what is glaringly obvious is that it gives no support to the general belief of religion as more charitable than non-religion. Moreover, we should recognize that most contributions to churches are not used to help the needy, but to support the costs of running a church and proselytizing, neither use charitable in the usual sense.

The Catholic Church, possibly the largest church provider of health service to the poor is, at the same time, uniquely responsible for contraception prohibition leading to crippling reproduction and continuation of poverty. Even many of Christianity’s truly charitably activities frequently includes a poison pill, pushing a little piety as a price of admission, a stealthy trade in corporeal indulgencies

But isn’t religion to be honored for its support of private and public morality? Hardly. Research fails to demonstrate that religious people in America are more moral than nonreligious, nor that U. S. states with more religious practice are more moral than those with less, nor that countries with less religious influence are less moral than the more religious. I think most Christians, as my sister argued to me years ago, believe Christian morals by themselves constitute a great gift to humanity, apart from other aspects of religion.

For reasons I’ve described elsewhere (“Sin,” 7/18/2014; “Morality is too important to be left to religion,” 1/2/2014), Christian morality is quite flawed, certainly no model for beings capable of better. Christian morality was mixed on slavery, mostly unmoved by the status of women, pervasively shameful to gays, and in general bizarrely focused on genitals. Morality-relevant attributes of the Hebrew god are nothing short of despicable. Further, in whatever ways Christianity and its predecessor Judaism have contributed to rules of civility and humaneness in the world, other religions and non-religions developed earlier.

Religion is guilty of impeding scientific discovery, shaming people to enforce its power, detracting from studied attention to sensible morality, and reinforcing a primitive, childish approach to understanding ourselves and our universe. In exchange, it has contributed marginally to charitable engagements. Its net value is negative.

That is why—in much the way Christians claim to hate the sin and love the sinner—I have no respect at all for religion, a disdain that co-exists comfortably with respecting individual human beings captured by its allure, its threats, or the social pressure that supports it.

 

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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But you must believe in something!

Many times I’ve heard these words from a Christian who thinks disbelief in his or her theology means no beliefs at all! The obverse of that well-intended coaxing is more in the form of an accusation: “You don’t believe in anything!”

Sometimes these expressions arise from genuine inquiry—a Christian honestly wanting to know how a non-theist thinks. Other times they are meant as indictment, denigration, or denunciation. Whatever the motivation, they are based on the curious notions many of the faithful have about atheism or, curiously, about religion itself.

Of course, atheists as a group believe in a number of things, for one cannot live without doing so. I can only speak for myself, a run-of-the-mill atheist. I believe in something, actually a number of somethings, though none rely on the supernatural. But before saying more about that, I should point out that when statements like the foregoing are made, the “something” the speaker means is virtually always a supernatural something. Christian churches rear their youth and somehow even convince grownups that a belief in the supernatural is essential to a satisfying, productive, ethical, and happy life. How many times is “a man of faith” or “a woman of faith” used as a badge of trustworthiness and good intent, as if people with religious faith are kinder, more ethical, and more fulfilled than those of no religious faith?

That’s rubbish, of course. It’s disinformation widely propagated by religious leaders and their flocks, sometimes out of ignorance, sometimes due to blatant lying. Ever heard the reasons interviewed voters cite for ruling out atheists for public office? (Atheists are near or at the bottom of lists of least trusted groups.) It isn’t surprising that evidence to the contrary is disregarded, for Christian ethics in practice value defending the faith more than honesty.

The very core of religious faith—a core without which religion would not exist—involves pinning one’s philosophy of life on implausible events with no evidence and, going further, even holding on to that faith against evidence. These are acts of intelligent human beings who would find such behavior bizarre, even psychotic in more rational areas of life.

In fact, many of these same persons have sincerely-held commitments that conflict with their religious faith, though they often don’t feel safe being open about them. (Think Catholics and birth control; Baptists and alcohol; priests and child abuse; Muslims and sex; a surprising number of Christian leaders and sex.) There are uncountable instances of such veneer religion with the predictable guilt and denial.

More to my point, however, are the multitudes of religious people who would live according to their humane commitments, their better angels, even if there were no religion to base them on. That is, they are kind or honest not because of the demands of their religion, but because they are just good, well-meaning people. Their reason for being kind, helpful, fair, or honest is not because of a mystical god who threatens them with everlasting incineration, but because they want to be good human beings. Such persons hold humanistic intents and are capable of fidelity to them quite well without feigning a foundation in religion.

What are those beliefs about behavior based on human reason? They include ethical treatment of others in business and personal affairs; live-and-let-live tolerance of those who have other persuasions; kindness toward others, particularly those of less power or money; fundamental respect of other people; integrity in honoring promises; honesty in representing others’ points of view, especially views of those with whom they disagree. And the list goes on. It requires no Bible, no Koran, and no army of priests (by any name) and missionaries. Giving intentional thought to honing these beliefs can instill in them even more integrity and focus lives on these virtues. These are humanist ethics.

Biblical beliefs have nothing better to recommend and, in fact, support some very inhumane behaviors. That’s why I view morality as found in the Bible as such a mixed bag. First, any really good moral rules found there are also found in other sources, many of which predate Biblical writings. Second, Bible-based morality is largely (a) sullied by threats and (b) genitally focused (consider the types of things normally thought of when the topic of “immorality” is raised) with detrimental effects on healthy sexuality. Third, grave injustices are supported or given a wink-and-a-nod acceptance, such as slavery, suppression of women, and social ostracism of homosexuals.

These considerations are what motivated renowned theoretical physicist Steven Weinberg to observe, “With or without [religion] you would have good people doing good things and evil people doing evil things. But for good people to do evil things, that takes religion.”

I began this post with the inquiry about what atheists believe. Then my remarks went directly into ethics and even internal integrity in viewing and forming conclusions about the universe. The reason for that narrowing of the topic is that beliefs necessary for and promoted by religions add a great deal of dogma baggage to a human-focused code. That baggage not only includes beliefs that have nothing to do with how we treat each other, but shift the proportionality toward arcane religious requirements, diluting what in part might have been useful ethics. Even the vaunted Ten Commandments (first set) contain fewer directives about humans ethically dealing with each other than about satisfaction of a jealous, vindictive god. If you add the other hundreds of Hebrew rules, the disproportion is even greater.

What do atheists believe? They believe—absent evidence to the contrary—that we are all we have and our best, nay, our only light in the darkness is ourselves. Humanist ethics make sense to all persons not infected by religion, for believers seem determined to look to phantasms for instruction. I can‘t speak for other atheists, but for me religious beliefs add nothing unique to that darkness and, in fact, make it worse. That is what this atheist believes.

 [Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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Atheism yes, but enthusiastic atheism?

In discussion a few days ago I made an offhand remark about my “enthusiastic atheism.” It occurred to me later that the term, though an accurate description, is an uncommon one. What on earth could even be important, much less passion-inspiring about simply, innocuously, and even blandly having no belief in a god or gods? It entails no warpath, no threatening of others’ rights, no foreign or domestic missions, no zeal.

To be sure, whether the still hidden mysteries of the universe include a powerful, knowledgeable deity does warrant inquiry. (For brevity, I’ll use the singular god but I mean god or gods.) Like relativity, quantum mechanics, and the expanding universe, it’s a big question in terms of potential cosmic significance (though not necessarily important in our quotidian existence).

But what most people miss is that whether there is such a supernatural reality is not ipso facto a religious question. It is either open to human inquiry or it is not, and by far the most successful, most incisive way to carry out inquiry while minimizing fooling ourselves is the scientific method. Whether there is a god is a scientific question.

Compounding the muddle, even if there is a god, we cannot intelligently make the unwarranted leap from that “fact” to the complex set of fantastic characteristics invented by ancient peoples that yet linger in the modern world—splintered in a plethora of fungible sects. We are told that having a god means, QED, that the god is an entity with personal interest in humans, with total power, total goodness, total awareness, and a host of other requirements for the job, including a fondness for cruelty, and having authoritative positions on homosexuality and American exceptionalism.

The range of possible characteristics of this still mythical character is so vast, that it’s a total shot in the dark to suppose that worship, prayer, and supplication make any sense at all. Even my choice of the word “character” has gone too far; only “entity” fits. But even if one’s “theory of god” passes all the tests in assessing a scientific theory, reaching the conclusion that religion will thereby have been suggested, much less endorsed, boggles the mind with its childish simplicity.

But that is what religions do, construct castles in the air out of nothing but feelings, ancient guesses, and a 1984-like papering over of any offending reality. Such bizarre anti-intellectualism is hard to carry off unless motivated by passion, but it is not a passion for truth—for a search for truth is not what fuels the faithful no matter their rhetoric about it and symbolic capitalization (Truth!). It is a passion maintained by constant repetition, force, shaming, scaring, and bullying. Without those things religion as a force in human sociopolitical life could not survive.

Against that backdrop, atheism as a position is but a pleasant, possibly boring philosophical consideration, much like one’s thoughts about dark matter. It prompts neither parades, sermons, flag-waving, hymns, witch-burning, shouts, beheadings, nor dramatic intonement. Nothing so exciting, just a topic of study and hypothesizing. A committed geek might find enthusiasm in that, but no one else would.

Atheism commands enthusiasm only as a reaction. Without religion, we’d scarcely notice atheism. As a pressure group, faction, or crusade around which to rally—atheism exists only because of religion.

When religion causes voters to spurn atheists for public office (only the god-fearing can be trusted), atheists become enthusiastic. When religion conspires for civil government to teach its beliefs to children in public schools, atheists become enthusiastic. When religion in the U.S. demands that courthouses and public spaces support and evangelize dogma, atheists become enthusiastic. When religion demands special tax treatment, thereby requiring atheists and others to help finance religious practices, atheists become enthusiastic. An enraging list like this could go on much longer; incidences occur far more frequently and blatantly than is generally known. I’ll spare you further examples.

The United States was at its inception a bold experiment in religious/philosophical liberty. Our Constitution guaranteed freedom of religion and its necessary complement, freedom from religion (the former impossible without the latter). Despite the gravitas and credibility of founders like Roger Williams, Tom Paine, Thomas Jefferson, and James Madison, keeping it that way has been a constant struggle for two centuries.

The current iteration features Christian revisionists (foremost, the discredited David Barton) arguing that the country was and should now be a “Christian nation;” that government should help Christians spread their religion; and, that challenges to Christianity’s hegemony over other religions and non-religion in social and political affairs is, in the twisted logic of religion, an attack on Christians’ freedom of religion! (Borrowing the subtitle from Robert Boston’s book Taking Liberties, “religious freedom doesn’t give you the right to tell other people what to do,” a consideration the faithful have long had difficulty grasping.)

To be other than passionate as an atheist under these circumstances is to underestimate the perfidy of religious sects’ mission to control others. That is why my offhand comment was accurate; I am a happy, ethics-valuing, life-loving, enthusiastic atheist.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

 

 

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September, then the Fall

Today, September 5, is the anniversary of my “becoming a Christian” in 1948. I was ten years old—about what my denomination called the age of accountability—when I decided to walk down the aisle during the invitation hymn that Sunday morning, profess my faith in Jesus, and be baptized. My baptism was by immersion, of course, since sprinkling and pouring were considered counterfeits. And arising from that watery salvation, I was born again, years before Jimmy Carter helped further popularize the term.

Merely accepting Jesus as my Lord and Savior was not enough. The Church of Christ (this one in the Brainerd area of Chattanooga) believes that the act of baptism based on declared faith forms the initial demarcation between heaven and hell. Before it, a believer is a non- or pre-Christian, not a real Christian. For believers such as those in my religion-of-origin, this was a momentous occasion, a theologically critical rite of passage.

The trappings of dedicating my soul thereafter to Jesus was quite easy in some ways, quite difficult in others. The easy part was to continue my Bible learning (it had begun at my mother’s and sisters’ knees), my Sunday School performance, and later even a few sermons. The hard part was dealing with my growing interest in the mysteries of girls (also beginning about at the knees, as I recall) and fascination with the forbidden potency of cursing. Much of that smoothed out by high school graduation and my reaching adulthood—not outgrown, mind you, but smoothed out.

While Jesus set a lower accountability age, the state of Tennessee figured 16 for driving and 18 or 21 for most criteria of adulthood. Those ages were their own passage points not for the soul, but for practical things like driving, contracting, and going to war. Had I died without being “saved,” though still a child in the eyes of the state, I would have been sent by God to hell for a pyrotechnical eternity of pain. In my innocence, I failed to notice that my God’s cruelty far surpassed Tennessee’s or that of any tyrannical regime or sadist in history, in fact, of all monstrous humans and their systems added together.

But pre-destined (to coin a phrase) for Christianity, in fact for a particularly small sect of Christianity, I did exactly what was expected of me. We were so exceptional that not only atheists, Muslims, and despots were going to hell, so were Catholics, Baptists, and everything that wasn’t Church of Christ. We even proudly corrected others who mistakenly called us Protestants because doing so lumped us together with the Devil’s counterfeits. As an example, we stayed clearly away from the Billy Graham campaign when it came through Chattanooga; Mr. Graham, after all, despite his hype was not a Christian.

How could I possibly leave or even deign to question that kind of specialness, the unfathomable good fortune of having been born into the Truth? We were usually humble enough about that, but acted sometimes like persons born on third base certain they’d hit triples. We were special; it would be an insult to God not to keep that in mind. You don’t relinquish being a neo-chosen people easily. However, while resistant to looking a gift horse in the mouth, I had a nagging concern that I’d never honestly sought the provenance of this good fortune for myself.

It seemed certain that if I had been born into a Muslim or Hindu family, I would not be spouting memorized Bible verses. I would not have, as I did through a few teenage years, regularly had a New Testament in my pocket. And so the apostasy began: questions, questions, and still more questions. Was it really a proof of God that planets stayed obediently in their orbits? Was it proof of God and Christianity that we have a book without contradictions, an inerrant source, or so we said? Was the proof of our denominational supremacy demonstrated in its motto (“We speak where the Bible speaks and are silent where the Bible is silent”)? Questions like these and many more, when actually spoken aloud, were often met with a condescending treatment that one would give a child who simply hasn’t learned to recognize bad questions. At other times, answers were given that if expressed on any topic but religion would have been seen as illogical, sophomoric, or even hostile. Needless to say, those reactions did not reign in my inquiry, but energized it.

Was there any evidence, any evidence, for my church’s core propositions sufficient to convince a mind not already determined to believe them? Was there any reason to conclude that my religion was more likely to be true than the beliefs of primitive tribes (or 21st century Georgians) dancing for rain? (It would be many years before I learned that we want so much to believe in belief that we are willing to forsake our cerebral beauty to get it.) For several years I honestly questioned every belief I formerly had. Only a few came through unscathed, and it turned out they were and are the values of humanism: kindness, truthfulness, intellectual integrity, good will, and even courtesy. But Christianity did not invent those things; to the contrary, it violates them repeatedly while pompously claiming to be the font of morality (as the Old Testament and centuries of Christians’ behavior testify).

Still, despite more than fifty decades of finding neither consistent truth nor coherent goodness (that is, goodness not diluted with sheer evil) in my former religion or those of others, I yield a certain ironic recognition to that day sixty six years ago when I gave myself to Jesus, even if only to find out later it was just a loan. It took those two decades to discover the foolishness and malevolence of humanity’s addiction to supernaturalism and dogma. But I am contented and comfortable that after that September, belatedly and happily came what Christians would call the Fall.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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My atheism: reason or reaction?

Over the years it’s occasionally been suggested that my adamant position about religion is due to my strict upbringing in a conservative Christian sect. In the experience of other atheists I’ve known, that convenient analysis appears to be common. Sometimes it’s embellished by citing the fact that religiously reared persons often go through a rebellious young adulthood, but “return to the fold” as they mature. Having thereby linked maturity to religious faith, it’s but a short step to link lack of faith to immaturity. But more importantly, the presumption is surreptitiously established that it is not belief, but lack of belief, that calls for a psychological origin.

That reasoning aside, is it still possible that I am anti-religious because of childhood influences? Perhaps. My views on philosophy may have been rooted in youthful emotional experiences. Being reared in a dogmatic superstition is enough to affect one’s outlook, even enough to fuel lifelong intolerance of religion. (By the way, whether religion is “dogmatic superstition” or is truly what it claims to be can be settled by investigation and reasoning, but not by heartfelt feelings or majority vote.) Nevertheless, my views as well as arguments against my views must stand on their own feet and face whatever counter arguments come at them regardless of any assumed psychological predisposition.

So I feel no need to deny the influence of early years. Whatever those effects, they must also have affected my adult views on poverty, ecology, diet, courtesy, and a host of other attitudes and actions. I had a long, successful career as a near-evangelical proponent of improvements in corporate governance. Should my views on that be similarly attributed? Even if a direct line from childhood to governance were proven, would that bear on the utility of the ideas I developed? We can’t be sure of the mixture of effects, so citing such possible roots amounts to impugning the adult positions without having to debate them. An adult opinion on anything might as easily be due to a careful and unemotional study of an issue, regardless of childhood forces. Just because a supposed causal link can be drawn in order to bolster a competing point of view doesn’t mean it is true and, if true, has no bearing on the argument anyway.

Interestingly, in the pursuit of finding childhood causes to explain atheism, those who raise the matter don’t normally show an equivalent desire to find childhood causes to explain their theism. The obvious implication is that believing dogmatically in unseen and unverifiable spirits is considered normal, while not believing is abnormal and subject to inquiry. Of course, that mindset—that a minority view or behavior owes an explanation—applies not only to matters of atheism and theism. Doing anything (from wardrobe to hairstyle) unlike others is thought to bear the burden of justification, while conformance to accepted style or doctrine need not account. Nevertheless, since childhood effects can bend one toward a theism as well as atheism, psychogenesis is a moot point.

There is no way to know, of course, but I think each person who would psychologize atheists’ intellectual arguments would have done the same when witches were being burned. So-called witches were outside the faith, so obviously the devil’s influence must explain their behavior. It would never have occurred to the burners that the behavior to be justified was their own, not that of the witches. Similarly, during the hegemony of Catholicism the arguments of heretics (some of whose beliefs were akin to today’s Christians more than to yesterday’s) were not met with reasoned counterarguments but blamed on evil or other influences. What goes around, comes around.

So let me go back to those who think atheism can be dismissed not by sober consideration of its reasoning, but by appeal either to atheists’ childhoods or to theists’ faith. Who are these persons?

Often they are people of good intent, acting out of sincere and loving concern. For them, I have a great deal of not only tolerance, but admiration for their candor and well-meaning.

But some are arrogant and sanctimonious fools who think by suggesting (as if proving) the source of their opponent’s motivation they’ve scored a debate-winning point. For them, I’m inclined toward a take-no-prisoners verbal altercation, incensed as I am by many believers’ attempts—since outright physical measures are no longer tolerable, at least in most of the Christian world—to demean sources of opposition with a passion bent on explaining away dissent in any way that works.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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Jesus saves . . . from what?

“From what” is not meant as a trivial or joking question. It is legitimate and serious. Just what is Jesus able and willing to save us from and why is that help needed?

Christians are obsessed with the perfectly normal words save and salvation. When Christians use them in a religious context, however, all manner of bizarre trappings have to be understood to catch their meaning. I grew up immersed in those trappings, able to explain the concept with youthful enthusiasm. The smoke and mirrors, needless to say, subsequently subsided.

Christians and their Bible emphasize that salvation is voluntary, so there is a choice to be made by those who want it. The New Testament is even more energetic about why we need it than about how to get it. The need, I find, arises from three sources, not all of which the faithful would agree with me on.

 

First, our parents’ parents’ parents’ misbehavior

The first source is something none of us had anything to do with. According to a Hebrew folk tale (surely they aren’t serious about the fruit, tree, and serpent story), the need for salvation has been passed down through the generations. The earth’s first woman made a tragic error then seduced her male companion into sharing her shame. The deity who’d set all this in motion was so offended by their misbehavior that he cursed their progeny for all time (about ten billion and counting; now that’s a lot of cursing) with a genetic condition referred to with a straight face as “original sin.”

Having chosen to inflict punishment on every newborn child forever, this deity then sent his son to proclaim the schizophrenogenic message that God is good, immediately thereupon getting him killed, at least temporarily, for his trouble. (For readers unfamiliar with mid-20th century psychologese, a schizophrenogenic parent is one whose contradictory albeit unquestionable messages to a child causes psychosis.)

At any rate, everyone is in need of being saved from this divinely imposed taint—no exceptions and no amount of saintly behavior can remove the stain. In short, we are born not only bad, but so bad as to deserve unfathomable torture as punishment.

 

Second, our own misbehavior

This source is at least related to our own transgressions rather than someone else’s. Of course, to transgress one needs to know what the rules are. Or so it would seem. But god’s ways are not our ways. So to assume that he who devised the original sin notion to rise to the level of a moderately caring human being is not to be expected. Much of Christianity for the ensuing two millennia after Christ was convinced that humans were headed to hell even if they (a) had never heard the rules (read: too young or too distant), (b) heard them from cruel teachers not to be trusted with their lives and fortunes, much less their afterlives (read: missionary priests), or (c) were persuaded by other versions of the rules just as convincingly presented or accompanied by greater threats (read: Muslim invaders).

Interestingly, the deity had a real propensity for obscure rules that were nevertheless not to be broken. The Hebrews’ list of rules is sufficient in length and in strangeness to rival any modern tyrant or any superstitious tribe (oh, wait, we are a superstitious tribe). The vaunted Ten Commandments focus on God’s jealousy and need for unending tribute as much as on treatment of other human beings. Even those rules that do seem more of the latter turn out to be how Jews should treat Jews rather than how people universally should treat people.

Even those are a rather skimpy set of rules to live by—child abuse, slavery, and a host of bad actions are not included. Beyond the vaunted Big Ten—well, make that twenty; there was another set folks don’t seem to know about, even those who think the Ten should be on every courthouse wall—there are another 613 such mitzvot listed by the sin-taxonomist Rabbi Simlai, including such gems as not to be winking or skipping with relatives and not to wear garments made of wool and linen mixed together. I guess you had to be there.

The summary of what we need saved from and what it takes to be saved varies greatly across denominations (or their equivalent) within religions, then vary still further as you trace dogma into numerous and narrower categories. My church-of-origin taught that dancing would likely send one to hell, along with drinking, and virtually everything I thought about when a high school girl was on my mind. Even in those days Episcopalians were not nearly so fussy.

Moreover, there is no immediate feedback as to how well you are doing, somewhat like omitting interim tests in school, but facing a critical examination at the end. To be Christian is to be forever on a roulette wheel, uncertain one’s got the interpretations, behaviors, and even thoughts right! Enduring that much distressing uncertainty surely deserves salvation, but clearly the condition from which one needs to be saved is a making of the very God who will make the judgment, that is, God saves you from himself.

I am reminded of the early American preacher, Cotton Mather, holding forth with “O sinner . . . you are held over [sic] in the hand of that God, whose wrath is provoked and incensed . . . You hang by a slender thread, with the flames of divine wrath flashing about it, and ready every moment to singe it, and burn it asunder…” Whew, that guy played hard ball. . . and so did Mather.

 

Third, God’s misbehavior

To speak of god’s sins is enough to cause apoplexy in most religious people. (At least modern Christians won’t kill me for it as Christians three centuries ago might have and Muslims would have yesterday.) What I mean is that according to the Bible God was not all that happy with creatures he created, as if Henry Ford had turned against the Model T. Maybe he used too much lust, greed, unkindness, and skepticism in the recipe. Maybe he put in too little submissiveness and fawning. However, I don’t mean to be more critical than necessary; I certainly couldn’t do as well as he out of a little dirt.

Besides, as Richard Dawkins observed with an adjectival flurry, the Hebrew God is “arguably the most unpleasant character in all fiction: jealous and proud of it; a petty, unjust, unforgiving control-freak; a vindictive, bloodthirsty, ethnic cleanser; a misogynistic, homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sadomasochistic, capriciously malevolent bully.” I have read much of the Bible and have to agree, though Christians seem to think it is sinful to notice these characteristics. A role model, the Big Guy wasn’t. It takes some of the wind out of “being Godly.”

Of course, it could be said that the gentle Jesus brought a different perspective, almost as if God had once again “repented himself” as had happened before when he was regretful about something he’d done. (One is often mellowed by having a kid.) At any rate, Jesus is thought of as loving and forgiving. But that reputation overlooks the other side of the Jesus story: the institutionalization of hell, a horrid punishment that Stalin, Pol Pot, and Hitler never got even close to. I wonder how attractive Christianity might be if God were only as ethical and well-behaved as the better humans among us.

 

Salvation

From such a God one certainly does need salvation; I get it. But it’s a conditional salvation offered cunningly by a person who’s thrown you a rope after pushing you off a cliff. A merciful God, indeed! This situation is like the salvation Jews would have needed when they were first intimidated, then hunted down and subjected to unspeakable Nazi horrors…. but salvation from the Nazis by the Nazis. If Jesus saves from that, then more power to him. But let us not pretend that “God is good” is more than a cruel joke.

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Sin

I’ve been pondering sin lately—not sinning, but sin—and how primitive and downright ridiculous the idea of sin is: besides leading to burdensome, unnecessary guilt, it impedes ethical progress of humanity.

Sin is a religious notion. It’s part of various religions’ contribution to ethics. Deciding how we should treat each other is one of humanity’s most important challenges. But ideas of sin and much of religion-based morality are not products of earnest, thoughtful work on what makes for a better world. Sin enters the consideration of ethics through the back door. The components of sin have not been conceived by honestly trying to resolve the question of what limits we should place on ourselves in order to best live together. Sin comes to us from antiquity, from primitive sources, from superstitious people— fabricated from fantasy, inflicted by fear, and forcefully imposed by the pious.

I’ve a correspondent whose most cogent attack on secular humanism is that in the absence of supernatural guidance, we humans would be left adrift. Like Adam and Eve before their fall, we’d be in a quandary about what we should not do. He maintains that God (his specific God as interpreted by his specific church, of course) defines sin and claims to be the exclusive author of the rules. Those who believe in his God are expected to adopt the divine definitions without question. In fact, violating the rules is less heinous than questioning them. If self-imposed restrictions of believers stopped there, non-believers could simply ignore the idea of sin as just another product of superstition.

But apparently to be a good foot soldier for God calls for trying to eradicate sinning among those who believe differently. So it is that religions—not all, but at least the fundamentalist wings of Christianity and Islam—seem hell-bent (no pun meant) to enforce their God’s pronouncements on others. Enforcement takes many forms, but all impose social and even physical damage to transgressors who dissent and even carefree souls who just aren’t paying attention.

There are countless examples in modern life. Public school officials, even knowing they are violating the law, continue to inject their sin ideas into education. Clergy take up arms against liberalizing alcohol accessibility, citing scripture as the reason. Gay marriage is opposed despite its posing no threat to churches’ private definitions of marriage. The Catholic Church fought for contraception and even information about contraception (!) to remain illegal in Massachusetts. To most Muslims, depictions of Mohammed are not just sins for them, but for everybody else on pain of death. And it goes without saying that historically there have been even more cruel attempts to control others.

In other words, fundamentalist Christians and Muslims want their ideas of sin to be recognized by everyone. Each uses whatever force it can get away with to do so. Happily for dissenters like me, Christianity was finally reined in somewhat by advances in Western Civilization, for which we have martyrs of the Enlightenment to thank. Islam, still stuck in the Dark Ages, has not yet been tempered by the Enlightenment.

Perhaps the most obvious weirdness of religious morality with respect to its definition of sin is that it is so disproportionately concerned with sex. In fact, although sin covers more than sex, the degree of emphasis on matters sexual is almost comical. For example, when someone is accused of immorality, you can safely bet that the infraction is in some way sexual. While the humanistic approach to ethics is concerned with a person’s effect on others, sin is often victimless. How else can we construe the sins of masturbation, nudity, lust, or sex outside marriage? Christians’ and Muslims’ sex-obsession causes their whole moral code to be genitally focused. Yes, sins do cover other topics like lying and assault, but sexual infractions are more often what is meant by the word.

I am amused when a media outlet seeks statements from religious leaders about some local moral issue. What on earth do clergy, rabbis, or imams have to offer about morality that so undeservedly commands our attention? Their whole foundation in the matter is one of grounding social and personal proscriptions (as well as, though not as often, prescriptions) on the left-over fragments of ancient texts. We have had centuries of their mind-numbing tether to the beliefs of primitive civilizations, enabling them to omit in their compendium of sins slavery, racism, and kangaroo court punishments. Their combined counsel has been handicapped by the basic flaw of all religion: dogmatic assertion of that for which they have no evidence and dominance of bogus god-pleasing over the needs of human beings.

Of course, religions have recognized as sin a number of universally recognized prohibitions, such as those on murder, lying, and stealing. But though the faithful like to give their respective religions credit for those contributions to human ethics, these moral failures were recognized before their religions existed and were easily derived without positing a supernatural guy in the sky to promulgate them. The “golden rule,” for example, preceded both Christianity and Islam. In fact, religion confounds sensible, humanistic proscriptions with ridiculous ones so much that good rules are soiled by association. (Read Leviticus lately?) Consequently, religions in their articulation of various sins have come up with some real doozies. It takes but a cursory review of religions’ positions taken even in our own lifetimes in the name of morality to find that morality defined by religion can itself be egregiously immoral.

The human race deserves never-ending discussion of morality unencumbered by superstition and inclusion of the ridiculous. Such an undertaking is not easy under the best of conditions, but is greatly hampered by religions which bring their own counterfeit ethics to the task. The feigned divine origin of sin causes otherwise useful thinking to be entangled with the hocus-pocus of religion. (Gods seem unable to pass down a sensible pro-human code of conduct that isn’t cluttered with rules that have little to do with human benefit. The Hebrew Ten Commandments are a shining example.) Consequently, just as religion interferes with conceptualization (e.g., geocentric universe, God-initiated plagues), problem solving (e.g., birth control, stem cell research), law (e.g., drug possession, retail liquor sales), it similarly impedes moral development.

If you are looking for a moral code of reasonable, humane, and challenging tenets, don’t go to Christians or Muslims, but to thoughtful lists put together by secular humanists, for religion-based sin is the real sin.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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Theists and a-theists

Perhaps the most significant disagreement among atheists these days concerns our range of attitudes toward liberal branches of religion. Although my thoughts about that apply to the liberal wings of all religions, I’ll focus here only on Christianity.

In most ways, atheists and Christians of a religiously liberal persuasion get along fine. Both we and they are against the volatile mixing of religion and civic affairs. Both persuasions are disgusted by the more outlandish positions and behaviors of true believers. Atheists who are also secular humanists (not all are) are in agreement with the liberal faithful with respect to women’s, gays’, and other minorities’ access to equal rights. However wide the remaining gap between atheists and liberal theists, we understand the strength available in making common cause on selected issues. One organization that exemplifies this commonality is Americans United for Separation of Church and State. Its membership includes Christians, Buddhists, Freethinkers, and undoubtedly many others.

There’s nothing startling about that; coalitions are routinely formed among philosophically disparate groups, even political and nationalist ones. Joining hands need not compromise either party, for each will continue undeterred in battle on topics beyond those giving rise to coalition. Joining hands with persons of liberal religion, then, neither weakens my atheism nor asks the faithful to retreat from their faith.

Let me explain what I mean by “liberal.” First, most of today’s Christendom is liberal compared to its harshness and often cruelty of bygone eras. Though Christianity had to be dragged kicking and screaming toward and through the Enlightenment, the result is that even the most ravenous of today’s fundamentalists don’t treat dissenters as horribly as mainstream Christianity did just a few centuries back. Against that background, all Christianity now is liberal. God is nicer, the faithful are less severe in their treatment of dissenters, and ecumenism is regularly accepted as a mark of civilized behavior rather than a sell-out. Against the background of centuries, even members of today’s religious right should be celebrated for their outstanding liberalism! You heard it here first.

So the modern spectrum of Christian belief overlaps atheists’ positions on quite a few social and ethical questions, just as there are Democrat atheists and Republican atheists, Democrat gays and Republican gays. We are far too multidimensional for forced categorization to be precise.

So what’s the problem? Many atheists think that making gains in public policy for a more humane society is worth working in common with liberal religion. Other atheists think that even religion not steeped in fundamentalism is still based on the same flawed thinking that underlies all religion, to wit, that faith establishes fact. Even among liberal Christians, supernatural entities with personal links to humans are regularly treated as if real and as authoritative guides to principles and behavior. Once this religious way of thinking is accepted, disciplined reasoning is mortally weakened. Diminished rationality has little ability to discipline dogma so that what emerges can go in almost any direction—possibly toward a gentle faith, but just as possibly toward malevolence. In other words, if faith is all it takes, then logical consideration has less impact on the result. Consequently, on the matter of religious faith in this viewpoint, atheists and liberal theists have nothing in common, so must remain respectful adversaries.

As to the choice facing atheists between (a) embracing our commonalities with liberal religions and (b) seizing upon our differences, my personality is given to the former, but my intellect to the latter. The first, for me, is more fitting if engaged in pursuit of real-world goals (such as gay marriage or no religious tests for political office), and the second if concerned with epistemology and ethics.

If that sounds like a conflict, it is, though I rarely have difficulty assigning each attitude to its proper sphere. However, occasionally it is not nearly so clear cut. The saving grace—to use a possibly suspect term—is that neither of atheists’ alternatives requires a sacrifice of personal relatedness, respect, or even affection across the very real philosophical boundary.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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Two worlds

I sit by the window in a beautiful, upscale restaurant having Sunday morning coffee with my beloved Sunday New York Times. I’m by the large window only partly for the light, but also because I’ve always liked seeing a city wake up and its streets begin to fill. I’m only 18 inches from a sidewalk, protected by air conditioning—ubiquitous in this bustling southern city—from the growing heat by thick glass. For whatever reason, my clearest memories of such participant/observer quietness are of Geneva, then on the square in Appenzell, a small Swiss village. But on this occasion a figure across cross the street caught my eye: a man still asleep on a bench.

Sleeping in

Sleeping in

I live in a classy condominium with an 18th floor view of Atlanta, have a perfectly functioning car in the garage, a wife who loves me, the unearned advantage of being Caucasian, comfortable retirement from a successful career, good health, and the opportunity to watch and ponder. Funny thing about glass and its ability to separate comfort from discomfort, but in this case to enable me to recognize a scene without experiencing it. I assume the man on the bench has none of those things, so I find myself wishing that at least he is enjoying his sleep and hoping that tonight once again he is fortunate enough to find a better-than-average bench.

Happily, this window on a world that isn’t mine coddles me, enables me to view poverty so that it remains an idea rather than an unrelenting pain. But even recognition is disconcerting, even though I know all the moral and economics arguments for why I am here and he is there. This could as easily be an essay about those arguments, but that is not where my musing has taken me this morning. It has assaulted my usual skill of overlooking such men with a practiced internal voice that reminds me that “the poor will always be with us.” Once we’ve been able to excuse a condition as a universal condition, we can get started on ignoring it.

Have I ever had no bed to sleep on? Yes, but I had a friend’s car to sleep in. Have I ever had no money for a meal? Yes, but it was a very temporary embarrassment. Have I ever had no hope for things to get better? Yes, passingly. Have I ever felt completely excluded and powerless to become somebody? Yes, many times. Have I ever seen other people walking past me as it I don’t exist? Yes, and they may have simply been like me now. I worked hard and kept at it, grew past those pains, didn’t I?

However, such ridiculous comparisons serve pointlessly to preach, “Hey, fellow, get over it. I, too, have been where you are.” Moreover, I can blunt my empathy with the mantra, “If you’d just applied yourself, stayed in school, kept your jobs, you might have been on the cool side of the glass.” It seems odd that even for a moment my moralizing doesn’t also blame him for not having chosen better or more economically secure parents (white or Asian ones while he’s at it), better schools, and a community without prejudice.

But as it always does, my studied ability to retreat from troubled humanity—that means, I fear, most of it–comes to my aid. I order some more coffee and go back to my Times. Isn’t it a beautiful morning!

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

 

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We don’t have a prayer

Theistic religions put a lot of stock in prayer, perhaps Islam most of all. Most atheists look upon prayer with skepticism or outright derision, but socially we tend to conduct ourselves with quiet disregard. Religious folks, to their credit, often politely show an indifferent reverence in response to prayers of other religions. But before I share a few thoughts on the matter, here is a classification scheme of types of prayers I’ve found useful—three different intentions prayers are meant to fulfill (a given prayer might combine one or more of these types).

First, there are prayers of gratitude in which god or gods are thanked for something good that has happened and that the pray-er believes a god or gods had something to do with. This prayer asks for nothing. It is like “saying the blessing” or “returning thanks” before a meal. (To simplify my wording and before you and I both get tired of “god or gods,” I will use the singular “god” to stand for one or more authoritative supernatural entities.)

Second, there is prayer that is a pouring out of fears, happiness, jubilance, distress, or other emotions. It is addressed to a god, but doesn’t ask anything except a sympathetic divine ear. This type can reasonably be considered to include prayer as a meditation device with calming or centering effects.

Third, there is a prayer of request, petitioning a god either to make something happen that otherwise wouldn’t or to stop something from happening that otherwise would. This type is occasionally referred to as “god bothering,” particularly by some liberal Christians.

It is the third type of prayer that motivates this post. I am ignoring the first two because each of them can have psychological benefit quite apart from whether there is a supernatural entity that listens or, if listening, cares. The believer’s faith imparts value, not existence of a presumed deity. Sincere expressions spoken into a void are not without value.

The third type, however, referred to as intercessory prayer, is an entreaty to a god to take action, that is, to cause or prevent something in the natural world. (I’ll skip requests to affect happenings in the supernatural world, since there is no way to distinguish results from non-results. An example of this would be appealing to god for a reward in heaven.) The purpose of an intercessory prayer is not just gratitude or emotional release (though it might include both), but to petition god to intercede in the natural goings-on of the universe. (Technical note: In standard Christian usage, prayers of intercession ask results for other people rather than for oneself. I will ignore that distinction here, choosing to combine prayers both for others and for oneself, the common element being divine interference in the natural order.)

Instances of prayer at least partially intercessory are abundant. In fact, prayers of thanks or expression often imply a previous intercession. For example, a mother profusely thanks a god for her child being spared in a car wreck. A farmer thanks god for rain that saved the crops. Americans thank god for the blessings of presumed exceptional status. Many such expressions assume that god has already bestowed something of worth, perhaps without having even being asked. I will ignore the intercessory component in this kind of prayer in order to focus attention on prayers that ask god to affect events in the future.

When the governor of Georgia, during a recent period of extreme drought, held a public prayer event on the steps of the state capitol, he and hundreds of assembled citizens were convinced that god might intervene in natural weather patterns due to their prayers. Responsible newspapers, like the Atlanta Journal-Constitution reported this pray-in as if it actually made sense, though nothing about it demonstrated a whit more intelligence than rain dances by a primitive tribe. When a spouse prays for her partner’s recovery from a life threatening disease, the same belief in supernatural intervention is in play. Athletes often pray for victory (showing thereby more faith than sportsmanship). Regardless of the object of intercessory prayer, the faithful genuinely believe it works.

This attitude of a virtual phone line from millions of faithful (in the right faith, of course) to god is bizarre. And its weirdness impels various conflicting attributes. A popular website proclaims that “prayer works because repeatedly, in God’s Word, He promised that it would.” The biblical promises referred to include “Ask, and it will be given to you” (Matthew 7:7), “Whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith” (Matthew 21:22), and “Whatever you ask in my name, this I will do” (John 14:13-14). Not to be forgotten is the strangely worded “Whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it [italics mine] and it will be yours” (Mark 11:24).

Arguing another view, or maybe just expressing a nuanced version (hard to tell) is Mother Teresa: “Prayer is not asking . . . Prayer is listening to His voice in the depth of our hearts.” Or Mahatma Gandhi: “Prayer is not asking. It is a longing of the soul.” Or Søren Kierkegaard: The purpose of prayer is not to influence God, but rather to change the nature of the one who prays.” Just as an aside, these modifications make more sense to me than the foregoing New Testament claims.

However, belief in the Biblical claims are the product of mentalities and attitudes that are more hopeful than rational. (I will not even go into Jesus’s reputed promise about moving mountains.) Samuel Butler in “Unprofessional Sermons” put it well in opining that “Prayers are to men as dolls are to children. They are not without use and comfort, but it is not easy to take them very seriously.”

Let’s be clear what intercessory prayer seeks. It is an attempt to convince god to interfere in the physics and other cause-effect processes by which the universe operates. Someone would have died from such horrid wounds, but due to prayer he survived. The political leader would have made egregious decisions had the electorate not asked god (convincingly, apparently) to augment the official’s wisdom. Our team would have lost, but we pray before games.

Asking for “blessing” is a simple, generic form of intercessory prayer, normally non-specific as to the concrete request, though perhaps specific as to recipient. The petitioner may ask god to bless someone, some activity (like this summer’s vacation Bible school), or some object (like food before a meal). Just what bless means is frequently left obscure unless, of course, the meaning is simply to request that the person, activity, or object find favor in god’s eyes. The burden of its finding favor, however, would seem to be on the person, activity, or object, not on god.

Further, even imagining one is in conversation with a deity undoubtedly has a psychological payoff for the person praying. The payoff, however, rests on the person’s faith, not on whether there is such a deity or, even if there is, that the deity pays any attention. Apparently that psychological payoff is sufficient to keep the practice alive. The durability of the practice is bolstered by the pass we give religious beliefs that prevents serious questioning, pretty much like a child choosing not to question the reality of the tooth fairy, lest she jeopardize her mysterious nocturnal cash.

The unvarnished truth is that no one has ever demonstrated that intercessory prayer works. All serious attempts to confirm its effectiveness have failed to do so. When I speak of “demonstration” and “confirm,” I mean substantiated with the scrupulousness required to establish truth in any other field of inquiry. But in religion, such integrity in determining fact is not a valued commodity.

A few years ago a religious friend told me of a relative who’d narrowly escaped death in a horrid car accident. He and others prayed fervently for the victim’s recovery. In what is often represented as a “medical miracle” she did recover. He summed up his story by leaning toward me as if to share a momentous secret, saying “You can’t tell me that prayer doesn’t work.” Actually, I was not trying at that time to tell him anything; I was feeling only pleasure that things had come out far better than expected. But in the back of my mind, it was hard not to notice that such meaningless “proof” is regularly accepted by the faithful as demonstration of the power of prayer. In fact, the faithful require even less such faux confirmation than that. For example, verification can be simply that many people believe X or respected authorities endorse X or a Biblical figure is reported to have had a direct experience of X. These beliefs are transparently juvenile, but can only be seen by the faithful for what they are when they examine someone else’s religion.

I suppose that religion-inspired loss of reasoning power should not be surprising. Prayer can be a code word for Christians more than an actual, meaningful practice. If you pray, you are therefore acceptable; if not, you are not. But quite frequently the power ascribed to intercessory prayer goes too far even for many Christians: Evangelist Billy Sunday in 1918 during World War I and a simultaneous influenza pandemic assured Americans that “We can meet here tonight and pray down this epidemic, just as we can pray down a German victory.” Really? That is thoroughly ridiculous rhetoric. But how can one tell where craziness begins when no utterances are required either to make sense or to stand the test of evidence. And what does that make of those who mislead millions, salving their fears with nonsense. What does it say for Christian leaders who multiply the pain of guilt on stressed believers, telling them when prayer fails that they just didn’t have enough faith!

It should hardly require saying, but feelings don’t provide evidence either, though religious people in the millions think that because their faith feels good, it must therefore be true. “I know in my heart” has a pleasing romantic quality, but has promoted delusions throughout history. “God got me through my illness” is similarly no proof of god and it doesn’t show god did anything. What it shows is that a person effectively drew on his or her inborn and learned strength, then chose to “give god the glory,” as the Bible intones. Feelings are not facts about the world outside our minds. Religion bids us to think our ideas—no matter how cockamamie—are implanted by the universe or a universal god. Psychosis is similar.

Therefore, when I say there is no evidence that intercessory prayer works better than chance, I am ignoring these low-bar tests that Christians are willing to call proof, even Christians who are quite reasonable people in every treatment of evidence outside the religious domain.

Prayer can have great value for an individual and even for a group when done together. It can enhance the sense of community and enrich mutual support. In the case of meditative prayer, it can promote an individual’s healing and emotional centeredness. Such prayer can be marvelous activities with potentially wondrous results. But there is neither reason nor need to pretend the words go higher than the ceiling.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

Posted in Faith and reason | Leave a comment

Everything happens for a reason . . . or not

“Everything happens for a reason.” I’m sure you’ve heard these words as often as I. The best I can say for the phrase is that it is usually meant to comfort someone who’s experienced a bad turn of fate. (OK, I admit “fate” is an unfortunate choice of words for me.) Life is fraught with ups and downs, so I suppose you could make a case that since ups follow downs, a down is the only way to get to the next up!

However, there is normally more meaning invested in the phrase than a word picture of a line graph. There is a sense that the down is “caused” by (or dragged into the future by) the up that requires the down to have come first. The uncomfortable or painful down is a prerequisite, that is, its reason for existing is derived from that which follows it.

The religious version, “God has a plan for my life,” is quite similar, but goes further to give a divine origin to the sequence. In the religious usage, that which follows may not be an up, but does have value in that it fulfills divine purpose. Non-religious persons who maintain that everything happens for a reason rarely notice how much their teleology is like a religious pronouncement. More than they realize, they are being religious without being religious.

The problem in either phrase is its basis in teleology, the practice of explaining an action or circumstance by citing what it becomes, is expected to become, or inexorably leads to. It is the ascribing of purpose by reference to some end-state. Much of life can be described as first this happens, then second this happens, then third this happens, then fourth this happens, and so on. What happens fourth may well be a result of what happened third; that is not teleological, but simply cause-effect. However to say first this happens because second has to happen later, then second happens because third has to happen later, and so forth is teleological, more-or-less an instance of effect-cause.

Frankly, religious people are more disclosing about their teleological thinking. They invoke a named supernatural cause which has an end in mind and the power to assure that whatever course is taken, the assumed path reaches the desired end. Non-religious people base their teleology on unstated and unnamed spiritual forces whether or not they are explicit about it, as if the universe in general has purpose.

But wait. Isn’t it true that each stage in a construction project is a step on the path to a completed project? So how can I accuse teleology of resting on supernaturalism? When a demonstrable purpose exists (for example, as stated by a designer), teleology refers to the “pulling” factors that guide the rational arrangement of components necessary to fulfillment of that purpose. People can form purpose; construction components cannot. A horse can form purpose (albeit less complex than humans); a tree cannot. To say the universe has purpose is to vest the universe not only with the ability to purpose but the power to promote and cause a path of action.

In expressing that everything exists for a purpose or that my life has a purpose (though I might not know it yet), I will have claimed that there is a purposing actor of some sort—identified as God in some cases or as an unseen force in others; both of these are essentially religious claims. To be assured that everything happens for a reason is to believe that some external power is exercising control.

So what is the alternative? Simple. Everything does not happen for a reason. In fact, nothing happens for a reason beyond the purpose we give it—which essentially nullifies the statement. We are freer than our supernaturalism and spiritualism want us to believe. For if the universe or a god is not in charge of our lives, then we ourselves must be. It is one of the tragedies of religious thinking that a universe lacking supernatural controllers is felt as foreboding and unprotected, that we are insufficient to the opportunity of forming our own lives. “Everything happens for a reason” is merely superstition.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

Posted in Atheism and other freethought, Faith and reason | Leave a comment

Preppers all!

A friend directed me to a “preppers” website-whether as a joke or a friendly warning, I’m not sure. If you don’t know what preppers are, you’re in the same ignorant state I was in until a few hours ago.

Preppers are people who focus on preparing for a world gone mad, broken, or just broke. They point out that we non-preppers are shortsighted, heavily dependent on everything to keep working, and basically oblivious to the risks of modern life. They remind us that (I will use unverified statistics here) 44 percent of Americans are “just one unexpected event away from financial disaster” and 55% have less than three days’ supply of food at home. Moreover, if the electrical grid went down, 21% think they’d survive less than a week and 75% believe they’d not live more than two months.

Are these stats accurate? Actually, it doesn’t matter. As even non-preppers would admit, the world seems to be increasingly unstable-our complicated systems being as vulnerable as they are magnificent. I-or rather, they-know that virtually all of us do not grow our own food and slightly fewer of us would know how to do so. We don’t dig our own coal or drill for our own oil…and even if we are green we wouldn’t know how to build windmills much less solar panels. Well, the list goes on and to no avail, since our awareness of such possibilities and our lack of preparation for them is not in question; only our resolve to do something about the risk.

And risk is what this is about. Can the electrical grid collapse, a meteor blow away Chicago, or a new virus wipe out 20% of us? Of course. Will they? Maybe so in the long run of centuries, but almost certainly not in the next five years. Human beings are not good with calculating life’s risks, as statisticians keep telling us. But we do make an effort to calculate them, at least roughly. So how much will I disrupt my life to protect from what extent of impairment and for which levels of probability? My wife and I chose to drive a few hundred miles recently knowing full well that there was a probability X that one or both of us faced severe injury or death as a price the universe often imposes for taking that risk.

Similarly, most of us choose to accept the risk that in the next few decades there will be a bloody revolution that tears the intricately designed systems of our civilization apart. To most of us, the probability is too low even though the devastation would be catastrophic. At a large scale political level, we choose to take our chances with global climate change rather than alter our comfortable energy policies and practices. We don’t do much better with electric power grids and that isn’t even controversial. Most of our choices are beneath the radar of conscious, studied, debated thought. Most of us do not give these matters the focused consideration that preppers do.

In reading scores of preppers’ comments earlier today, I couldn’t help but notice they talked mostly about their internecine disagreements (when they weren’t engaging in various name-calling and poorly written, uneducated squabbles). I saw no substantial debate of what was otherwise a rich area for discussion, which tipped me off that preppers operate in an intellectual fog pretty much like the rest of us. Not to put too fine a point on it, I was not impressed with their intelligence. But it would be so easy to lose the baby along with the bath water that I want to retain what their dialogue and, yes, sometimes their craziness can bring to our attention and that is this:

At an individual or family level, most actions to protect against large consequence/low probability system failures are either futile or offer only temporary salvation. However, at a high political level-that is, the level at which a far more distant time horizon should be the daily concern-potential actions are not nearly so pointless. In other words, differing levels of organization should attack different levels of issues. For example, individual citizen cannot make a decision to go to war or protect against an errant meteor, but the national level can and should. Similarly, a board of directors, the CEO, and the shop lathe operator should be attending to entirely different levels of issues. Nothing esoteric about the hierarchy of issues (though frankly, in practice it isn’t understood all that well).

Preppers may not have much to teach individuals, but a great deal to teach politicians and bureaucrats at the highest levels. Oh, wait, those “responsible” politicians and bureaucrats seem to wallow in matters of far lower level than that to which I refer. Just watch Congress operate in any administration. In a very disturbing sense, at the highest levels of government, nobody is minding the shop. I want to say more about that in a future post, but for now I need to correct my statement of merely two sentences back: Preppers can teach us as individuals a very important lesson, though it isn’t the lesson to abandon our homes and go to the mountains. It is the unintended lesson of what we should expect-nay, demand-from politicians and lofty bureaucrats. Thus it is that warnings even from crazies need not only win converts to their small cults and regularly amuse the rest of us. Their evangelical warnings can serve to remind us that contemplation and deliberation about highly catastrophic yet highly improbable events should comprise much, perhaps most, of the agenda and problem-solving of elected officials and governmental executives.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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Our national day of prayer

Today, May 1, is the date pronounced by the Congress for Americans to pray for the nation. Prayer has long and widely been rumored to produce results, but has never been demonstrated to do so. True, prayer can surely be therapeutic, giving pray-ers the comfort of having actually done something or obtaining emotional release. But intercessional prayer has never been shown to have effects more than would calling upon the sun god. It is marvelous testimony to the power of religious authorities that so large an untruth as the effectiveness of prayer can persist. Of course, a flat earth and revelations by comets enjoyed a long run as well.

But my musing today about the National Day of Prayer goes beyond prayer’s ineffectiveness. This is a country whose founders contributed to new wonders on the world stage. It was no small wisdom that prompted them to introduce separation of the centralized power of the state and the individualized philosophy of persons. The most dangerous of those individual philosophies was and still is religion, for it pretends to be handed down from the supernatural (therefore, cannot be disproved) and taps into mankind’s greatest vulnerabilities, our fears of the unseen and the everlasting pain it might inflict. Mixing politics up with that disarray of dogmas and their accompanying resistance to compromise cannot but damage hopes for—perhaps make impossible—a long-lasting democratic civil establishment.

Yet religious forces do not give up easily. As clear as founders’ statements were and as clear as the Constitution’s First Amendment is, citizens and leaders allowed religion to get its nose under the tent right away. (For example, the Congress appointed itself a chaplain, for what legitimate reason I strain to understand.) Religious leaders continue to edge their way whenever possible into, for example, school boards and classrooms, to city council meetings, to Ten Commandments and Christmas displays on public property, and on winning tax breaks for organizations that are religious rather than merely charitable. The National Day of Prayer is just another show of distaste many of the faithful have for the First Amendment or, more accurately, distaste for not being in charge.

From NDP’s official website is this description: “The National Day of Prayer is an annual observance held on the first Thursday of May, inviting people of all faiths [italics mine, JC] to pray for the nation. It was created in 1952 by a joint resolution of the United States Congress, and signed into law by President Harry Truman.” That ecumenical tone is reflected in NDP’s further declaration that it “belongs to all Americans. It is a day that transcends differences, bringing together citizens from all backgrounds.” Well, maybe not all backgrounds, viz., the significant percentage of Americans who look upon this official federal pronouncement as declaring winners and losers in the beliefs debate. Not all Americans are ready to accept a supernatural authority dreamed up by the ancients; nonbelievers don’t think their government should make such a delineation to, in effect, define them out.

But wait, maybe believers think atheists, agnostics, and other non-religious persons—quite a few of whom were among our founders!—don’t really count in such an important matter anyway. The implication, of course, is that making a choice about religion should be a matter of majority vote. Even President G.H.W. Bush said atheists couldn’t even be considered patriots. The elevation of religion to so prominent a place in this particular “public square” demonstrates the danger of religion in a democracy. So many believers are not happy having freedom of philosophy and practice, they must have dominion. Most religion is the natural enemy of freedom of conscience and ritual.

But let me desist in ranting about the dictatorial tendency in religion in general, let me note a matter of further concern. The NDP, having bent over backwards to tout its ecumenical evenhandedness, goes on to say that it “exists to mobilize the Christian community [again, italics mine, JC] to intercede for America’s leaders and its families.” You might be confused wondering where Jews fit in this party, much less Muslims, Bahais, Buddhists, and others. But once again a brave effort is made to ensure nothing about the NDP can look anti-Semitic, so the words are added that “The Task Force represents a Judeo Christian expression of the national observance, based on our understanding that this country was birthed in prayer and in reverence for the God of the Bible.” If so, then, what was the “Christian community” bit about?

As one would suspect, the chairperson of the event is Christian, even a fundamentalist Christian, and has been for some years. Mrs. Shirley Dobson, NDP chairman, reminds us: “We have lost many of our freedoms in America because we have been asleep. I feel if we do not become involved and support the annual National Day of Prayer, we could end up forfeiting this freedom, too.” She doesn’t say which freedom “this” freedom is (being specific about the pronoun’s antecedent might be embarrassing here), since I can think of no person’s freedom to practice his or her religion has been endangered, much less lost in America. (Well, there is this: Mrs. Dobson’s TV-prominent husband, James, declared it a violation of religious freedom to grant same-sex marriage!) Call me paranoid, but I suspect the freedom she fears losing is religion’s right to bully and its claim on governmental support for religious hegemony.

So our country will observe the National Day of Prayer, especially if you pray to the right god. Prayer is known, of course, to make the country more moral, more prosperous, and to make politicians more honest. Happily, despite all the hoopla, most Americans will not observe the day nor even know it passed by. “Dancing with the Stars” and other of our mindless diversions do have some value.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

Posted in Church and state | Leave a comment

Political correctness

In a conversation a few months ago I was accused of espousing a particular view because it was “politically correct.” I was briefly offended, since the comment implied that I reached my opinion based on something other than my own reasoning. My ego-protective reaction proved to be transitory, however, replaced by reflection on just what politically correct means.

Mouthing some doctrine or position merely because it’s in vogue or earns social credit is, I assume, what political correctness stands for to most people. But it isn’t a “clean” term inasmuch as when used it’s likely to serve another argument rather than to represent a unique meaning in itself. One could say its connotation outruns its denotation.

For example, in a politico-social context, liberals accuse conservatives of just being politically correct about X and conservatives do the same thing to liberals with respect to Y. There may lately seem to be more charges of political correctness afoot, but I suspect that is because we only recently invented the phrase. (In a quick Google Ngram search, I found that the term was not greatly used in books until around 1988 when it began a slow growth to a peak usage in 1997, after which it has receded somewhat.) I doubt the dynamics of political correctness are any more numerous now than in times past. We’d probably find in prehistory instances of the pressure to say certain things due not to thoughtful examination, but to the danger socially or physically attendant to not saying them. Drop in on the early 17th Century American political scene and be careful what you say about Jacobins or half a century later about states’ rights. In the Soviet Union, the NKVD then the KGB and GRU offered their “help” to citizens trying to get it straight what was politically correct to write, paint, and sing.

During the early years of America’s second Iraq war it was politically incorrect to cast doubt on our military involvement, lest one’s patriotism be in doubt. For decades it was politically incorrect to stand for women’s suffrage (that made you a suffragette, a term then of denunciation). Then it became incorrect not to stand for women’s suffrage (that made you a troglodyte). It’s long been politically incorrect to criticize religion as much as positions on other matters may be criticized (even though the faithful routinely criticize the rejection of religion). It is becoming politically correct to support gay marriage in some circles, and politically correct to be against it in others. I am sure you notice the similarity to the term “judicial activism,” the practical meaning of which depends on the speaker, not on a simple description of the referent.

Conservatives charge that liberals’ antagonism to the Keystone XL pipeline is merely political correctness rather a result of studied and unbiased examination of the issues. Liberals charge that the growing number of conservatives opposed to Common Core education standards is merely the political correctness necessary for conservatives to get on a growing right wing bandwagon, not a careful consideration of the merits.

My point is that we continually play partisan games about political correctness. It is only the ignorant conservative who treats “PC” as a liberal disease, and only the ignorant liberal who treats “PC” as a conservative disorder. So rather than having a useful and definable definition, the term “political correctness” is a bludgeon to wield, not a useful criterion in supporting or refuting a position.

In practice, then, political correctness refers to a position or action held or stated in order (a) to gain or maintain approval of a reference group and/or (b) to avoid having to work out a position for oneself. Refuting an opponent’s position or action by calling it mere political correctness, then, enables one to hide within his or her preferred reference group, thereby avoiding personal responsibility to argue substantively against the opposing position or action. This is the adult version of angrily taking the only game ball and going home (or the utterly convincing verbal argument “your mother wears army boots”).

Using that definition, a person’s position or action that comes from a genuine and thoughtful consideration of the matter—no matter how much it conforms to a desired reference group—does not qualify as political correctness.

Consequently, calling something “politically correct” is never a legitimate criticism because the position criticized may actually be a genuine, thoughtful position. You can’t tell by the content of the position or action itself. The term alone does not make a case for why the criticized position is faulty. It just hangs on a label that tells more about the speaker’s bias than about the matter in question. So I may claim that making racist remarks is politically incorrect (actually, endorsing racial equality is politically incorrect in some crowds), but I’ve really said nothing substantive unless I make the case for why racism is damaging, unethical, or is otherwise imbued with some unacceptable quality.

Consequently, in real-world usage, we ascribe a position or action to “political correctness” only when we don’t like it and wish to charge that it is slavishly founded on group approval rather than on personal thoughtfulness. Calling a position politically correct, then, is void of meaning about that position. It conveys no intelligence that the proposition is unsupportable or that arriving at it has been improperly or inadequately reasoned. Use of the term as a retort tells us the speaker’s attitude toward the proposition, but tells us nothing useful about the proposition per se.

 

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Perverting the meaning of freedom of religion

We Americans have long prided ourselves on our civic birthright of individual freedom. Although our history has not consistently honored that ideal, a mixture of empty rhetoric and genuine intentions continues to profess it. Varying public sentiments, court decisions, and governmental actions have frequently curtailed the several freedoms for reasons both necessary (e.g., public endangerment) and foolish (e.g., political expediency). One of those freedoms is the right we have, legally grounded in the Constitution, to endorse and practice whatever positions we wish with regard to religion, protected not only from force, but from governmental endorsement (“taking sides”) of one view over another.

On the whole, freedom in religious matters, despite frequent failings, has worked out better than the 18th and 19th century world in which our republic was born. It had a rocky, pre-constitutional start with Roger Williams in Massachusetts and Rhode Island (see my Aug. 26, 2013 post, “Our debt to Roger Williams”), then shameful anti-Catholic mob behavior in Pennsylvania, blue laws in most states, and on ad nauseam. The battle still wages between those whose religious persuasions require them to control others’ practices and those who resist the loss of freedom much of religion seems bent on causing.

Religious bullying comes as no surprise; indeed it seems firmly in religion’s DNA. If God is on your side and the world should to be brought to its knees for Jesus, normal civil behavior, tolerance, and freedoms can and, indeed, must be overridden. I realize that most Christians don’t see themselves in that description. In fact, many of them are not, at least through any conniving intent. They don’t notice the problem of priests and ministers getting involved as faith leaders in civic arguments about drinking laws, Sunday retail, and Ten Commandments postings. Nor do they notice the religious basis of arguments given for praying at city council and school board meetings, blocking same-sex marriage, or exempting churches from taxation (I will address the church tax matter in a later post). More obvious, perhaps, is the religion-driven anti-science campaign about evolution…shot through with enough ignorance to be an embarrassment even to many of the faithful.

These things are not new. They will no doubt continue to plague the world so long as religious faith is a merit badge, as long as dogma sans evidence is considered a virtue rather than a travesty on reason and a celebration of superstition.

However, what is relatively new is the twist being used recently by the religious right in the United States to define freedom of religion thusly: It is a curtailment of religious freedom to deny them their right to tell others what to do. The concept of religious freedom, in other words, is being contorted into its opposite.

The ways in which the faithful appropriate the power of civil government or win special favors for their dogma are legion. But few Christians likely protested when in the last few months Birmingham, AL, Police Chief A.C. Roper, an ordained minister, led monthly prayer walks in different neighborhoods under the auspices of the Prayer Force United ministry. He also incudes Christian prayer at mandatory department staff meetings and events, using his title and office to “claim the city of Birmingham for God.” Roper says that Prayer Force is part of the police department, “a prayer ministry…an intercessory ministry.”

Joseph Kennedy, a force behind Alabama state senator Blane Galliher’s introduction of HB 133 in 2012 revealed, “We want to give [public school] students good sound scientific reasons to support their faith in the seven-day creation and the young Earth.” How many Christians see the flaw in Kennedy’s reasoning? Maybe they just stay quiet. With reasoning like that, no wonder there is no great uprising when Tony Perkins, Mike Huckabee, and James Dobson prophesize that “If the government redefines marriage to grant a legal equivalency to same-sex couples . . . [it] will bring about an inevitable collision with religious freedom and conscience rights.” What rights? No one is even suggesting that religious people cannot practice their religion and all its rules. Oh, wait a minute. They must mean the “right” of Christians to determine the law of the land.

Nor is there consternation when Penn. State Rep. Daryl Metcalfe, when asked why he stopped Rep. Brian Sims from making floor remarks about the Supreme Court’s gay marriage ruling, replied, “I did not believe that as a member of that body I should allow someone to make comments…that ultimately were just open rebellion against what the word of God has said.” Apparently, Rep. Metcalfe believes his legislative duty is not subject to the Constitution. It seems obvious that the only “freedom of religion” that stands to be lost is Christians’ free pass to set the rules and the punishments, much like the religious freedom of the Catholic Church suffered mightily when the Inquisition stopped.

It isn’t surprising what goes on with these pious souls who so frequently wrap themselves in the flag…people like the American Family Association’s spokesperson Bryan Fischer, who made the blindingly unconstitutional allegation that “The purpose of the First Amendment is to protect the free exercise of the Christian religion. Founding Fathers did not intend to preserve religious liberty for non-Christians.” Of course, he kept his job and his adoring religious right audience. Against that backdrop, it was pretty much a yawn when Rev. Joseph Morecraft of Chalcedon Presbyterian Church spoke to the Worldview and Christian Education Conference, proclaiming “Nobody has the right to worship on this planet any other God than Jehovah. And therefore the state does not have the responsibility to defend anybody’s pseudo-right to worship an idol;” I can only imagine whose definition of idol he meant.

Those who would sacrifice enlightened views of human rights to Dark Ages thinking, if not Dark Ages violence, are willing to stoop to low levels to defend the faith…like lying or maintaining a dedicated hold on ignorance. Take Sandra Bradury, mayor of Pinellas Park, FL, defending religion in city council meetings earlier this year: “The Ten Commandments are part of our constitution whether people realize it or not.” When an interviewer then asked how that could be true (of course, it isn’t), she intelligently replied, “Well, if you look at killing: you aren’t supposed to kill.” Groan. If it were not in such poor taste to introduce critical thought into the religious arena, we could see that rather than religion being “sadly under attack” (Archbishop Chullikatt at the 2012 National Prayer Breakfast), it seems bent on suicide.

Despite absolutely no basis in fact, the frequent implication that nonbelievers are less honest and committed to humanity than the faithful, no less a virtuous light than Newt Gingrich at a political debate asked rhetorically—confident no believer would question him—“ How can you have judgment if you have no faith? How can I trust you with power if you don’t pray?” I suppose the same religious people who did not rise up in disgust when Mike Huckabee as a presidential candidate proposed to “amend the Constitution so it’s in God’s standards rather than try to change God’s standards so it [sic] lines up with some contemporary view.” Even if one can be blind enough to overlook the Rev. Huckabee’s theocratic statement, he didn’t see fit to explain away how the Bible isn’t big on freedom of speech, religion, or much of any other of the liberties we say we hold dear.

Oh, well, we can still coast a further few decades or more on our founders’ hard work in separating civil authority from sectarian true-believers. Still, it doesn’t help to have leaders whose understanding of something so basic and so important is so thoughtless…like President George H. W. Bush, whose lips we watched in 1987 as they spake this gem: “I don’t know that atheists should be considered as citizens, nor should they be considered patriots.” Poor Tom Paine, freethinker whose sharp intellect and spirited words figured prominently in beginning America’s road to independence, there’s just no way getting back into that big tent.

Poor fundamentalists. Some of us resist them when their definition of religious freedom includes telling everyone else what to do. Oh, I just realized—their freedom of religion is threatened.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

Posted in Liberty, Politics | Leave a comment

Concentration deficiency

You may have noticed that I’ve not written a new post for a few weeks. It’s likely I’ll not do so for another few weeks. Preparing material that finds its way into this blog requires not only time, but the mental leisure for tossing thoughts around, testing the emerging concepts (arguing with myself), then wrestling with verbal expressions clear enough to communicate.

What I have rediscovered lately is the fragility of that process. For me, at any rate, it is not given to rushing nor to cheating the all-important musing stage.

My wife and I have been knee deep in the frenetic work of preparing our home of nineteen years for sale and readying our new condominium for moving in. There are still a few weeks before life settles down to its former pace. I have had to accept, graciously most of the time, the resulting impediment to clear thinking and comprehensible writing.

Now which ones of these boxes go to charity and which to the new closet?

I’ll be back.

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Biblical opacity—a Christian dilemma

Christians are confronted by what appears to me to be an unsolvable dilemma. Their holy book, even if you ignore its overwhelming translation problems, is open to so many interpretations as to bewilder. That is distressing inasmuch as most Christians believe the Bible to be their sole source of spiritual instruction. (Catholics have historically believed the Church resolves all or much of this dilemma for them.) How disconcerting that must be, how troubling!

Christians, on the whole, however, don’t act as confused as Biblical ambiguity warrants. They seem to rest comfortably in whatever set of interpretations they espouse, interpretations in so many instances they were taught by respected authorities—parents, convincing preachers, friends, or others in whom they have confidence or whose interpretations provide a needed comfort. Sometimes persons change their interpretations based on theological inquiry, but I suggest that more do so not due to religious considerations at all, but because of choosing a mate in a different tradition, running into personal conflicts with members of their church, or simply rethinking what kind of God they would like to have. So much for integrity of religious conviction!

In line with that point, one of my Christian correspondents said, “the field for interpretations and misinterpretations is wide open,” and that persons are likely to make interpretive choices that agree with their other values or desires, whether they be religious ones or not. These other values help or cause a predisposition to interpret ambiguous passages or, in fact, the whole Biblical message in one direction or another. That makes sense to me; it is a phenomenon related to clinical psychology’s diagnostic measurements called projective techniques (the Rorschach use of ink blots being the most familiar). Persons with an investment in theology must be dismayed by projectively chosen religion, though I would argue that’s what all theology is based on anyway.

However, the same correspondent—to my astonishment—went on to suggest a surprising resolution of Biblical ambiguity. He argued that intelligence, education, and knowledge can eliminate the ambiguity. His implication was that persons who have these characteristics will arrive at the correct ways to interpret the many obscure and ambiguous passages. (He seemed to imply that his own gleanings are these rare, accurate interpretations.) His solution means that if two parties arrive at different interpretations, one is (or both are) deficient in either intelligence, education, knowledge, or some combination. In practice, though, persons whose intelligence, education, and knowledge exceed those of him and me added together are widely known to arrive at vastly differing interpretations of Biblical matters.

That consideration, directly derived from his argument, actually makes my point. How can the Bible possibly be construed such that it is consistent throughout and serious seekers can largely agree on the construction. I am neither surprised nor dismayed by the difficulty. There is no reason the Bible should be either historically or theologically coherent, even if there were to be absolutely no contamination by its untidy translation history. It is cobbled together from various sources, largely of untraceable provenance. It is as if someone were to put between one cover several tales and treatises by different authors of the past few millennia and expect the resulting anthology to be philosophically and anecdotally harmonious.

Yet, among the reasons Christians give for the lack of success in coming to agreement about what the Bible means and even what it says, I have never found them to suggest this obvious option: It is impossible to figure out except in the broadest ways (e.g., there’s a god named God, he created everything, he interacts with humans). My guess is that Christians would not countenance that option as a possibility deserving honest consideration. Why not? Still just guessing (guessing about a guess puts me on slippery ground here!), but I imagine the reason is that Biblical opacity calls its authority into question.

Christians maintain that their God indirectly wrote the tome by inspiring those humans who wrote it, as well—I must assume—as the uncountable translators and scribes who passed it on. But if accurate interpretability escapes the most sincere, most erudite, and most prayerful readers, then this all-wise, all-powerful God has chosen to put earnest acolytes to the test quite cruelly, on pain of eternal fire for getting it wrong. That might be the case, of course, but the all-loving part of his portrayal would have to be dropped.

For a Christian, this should be a most perplexing situation. That it seems not to be is a tribute to the blinding characteristic of religious faith, its triumph over reason in otherwise reasonable people.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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Costly comfort

One of the more beautiful claims made for religion is that it offers comfort in the face of misfortune and death. Of course, comfort in a world of pain, disappointment, and loss has immense intrinsic value. While the basis for religious comfort is suspect (even to the faithful, for they question the faiths of others), I consider the comfort itself to be genuine. Like you, I have seen human burdens lightened by religion-inspired peace and reassurance. Hope glows in the hymn’s lyrics, “His eyes see the storm clouds and the billows that roll. Yes, his ears ever listen for the cry from below. Then he whispers, ‘peace, be still now,’ and the winds must obey; then burdens are lifted away.”

In my life there have been times when comfort from whatever source would have been tempting. But I could no more accept the comforts promised by religion than those from astrologers. I don’t find stars in the sky more convincing than a god in the sky; they are both, to me, pie in the sky. My condition, no matter how painful, could not overcome lack of evidence. However, quite apart from my own point of view, we can come together on this simple statement: Religion, if helpful, can still be untrue; religion, if true, can still be unhelpful. Truth and utility are unrelated issues. Comfort testifies to our internal states, not to verification; religious apologists who argue that the proof of God is that he lives in their hearts are simply advertising credulousness.

Remember, I fully accept the genuine comfort gained from singing, “I will cling to the old rugged cross and exchange it someday for a crown.” It is comforting to recite Psalms 23. In the grip of bereavement, it is uplifting to find soothing consolation in the words, “Why should we weep when the weary ones rest/In the bosom of Jesus supreme/In the mansions of glory prepared for the blest? For death is no more than a dream.”

But the comfort offered by religion—by Christianity, at any rate—requires willfully disregarding important features of the faith. That is, the comfort necessitates ignoring other promises of the same belief system. Consider the most severe situation in which Christians seek and receive religious comfort: death of a loved one. It is then that scripture rises to the occasion with life eternal in the presence of God and the prospect of no pain, sadness, or error. Not only does the believer escape from death (“O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?”), but is guaranteed a new and better life to escape to (“High King of Heaven, my victory won, May I reach Heaven’s joys, O bright Heaven’s Sun!”).

Despite there being no evidence that any of that is true, for sake of argument let’s assume that Christians’ faith is well-placed, that there truly is a God who offers blissful inducements to living a Christian life, to seizing tightly, in Paul’s term, “the evidence of things unseen.” Such a scenario provides comfort and, if true, elicits well-deserved praise for the God who makes it possible.

That unparalleled comfort is Christians’ reward for living and believing in a very narrowly prescribed way. However, as we can see in the beliefs and practices of Christians, the composition and width of faith’s pathway vary extensively. I’ve mentioned that I grew up in the Church of Christ with warnings not only that “infidels” were going to hell, but that Baptists and Methodists and Catholics were as well. We took seriously Matthew’s warning that “strait is the gate, and narrow is the way….and few there be that find it.” In fact, even being in the Church of Christ (God’s only true church, we believed) would not suffice for heavenly reward unless the recently deceased had been in a “state of grace” at the moment of death. That state depends on one’s theology, but also on being sinless due to recently having been forgiven by God in answer to a prayerful request.

I understood that God expected me to be on a narrower path than what sufficed for other denominations (not God’s own churches). Methodists weren’t as exclusionary and Unitarians were broader still—all wrong, of course. In any event, though, heaven’s favorable reception rate was obviously quite low. Let’s see, out of seven billion people on earth—many if not most fairly good folks—even the broadest of these beliefs about the narrowness of God-determined acceptability puts the admission rate to heaven at a vanishingly small percentage.

Moreover, just being pious and devout is still not enough. One can never be certain he or she is not destined to miss heaven due to some seemingly small infraction or simply well-meant misunderstanding. And there is surely no way others who mourn can know the disposition of the recently passed soul. There are too many examples of monsters who only appeared normal and even saintly until found out, with many others never exposed. Many a “saint” has been buried with undeserved accolades and mourners misled about his or her ticket to glory. But among really good people, many must have missed those pearly gates anyway due to the strict, often seemingly trivial expectations of the all-seeing deity!

The Hebrews managed to create—and Christians continued with—a persnickety God whose ambiguous instructions made figuring out what he wants a distressingly difficult puzzle. Even for the sincere seeker, there is incalculably more probability for getting it wrong than getting it right.

So while Christianity promises for some a future of glory and eternal bliss, it promises for most an everlasting torment of unquenchable fire. You can’t take the comfortable promise and ignore the scary one. Incidentally, we have to keep saying such an unkind bully of a God is “loving” because the promise of hell and his Old Testament behavior convincingly show that it isn’t wise to piss him off.

The Psalmist said “The fear of Jehovah is the beginning of wisdom.” Paul, ostensible source of most of the New Testament, spoke of “Godly fear and awe.” No wonder the term “God fearing” made its way into our lexicon, for this Jehovah God is surely to be feared. I’m not sure what kind of love Christians have in mind when they refer to fearing God and loving God simultaneously.

Humans are capable of living with loss and death without the fairy tales we tell ourselves we cannot live without. Actually, we do anyway. Do we need comfort? Of course, and we get more of it and at lower cost from our fellows than from our superstitions. Religion offers comfort, to be sure, but at an extreme cost to our belief in ourselves, our ability for philosophical reasoning, and the denigration of the comfort we can give each other. It requires the continual whitewashing of a cruel God in a massive Stockholm syndrome.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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Family love

Due to the virtually simultaneous deaths of brothers-in-law last week, I’ve just spent three days with fifty or so extended family, not one of whom is an atheist or, at least, an “out” one. Largely, my family’s denominational identity is the fundamentalist Church of Christ. They have great and sincere commitment to their families and their god, as did my late brothers-in-law, two men who were invested in and lived their faith. Their consistency of belief and action is, even for this atheist, something admirable.

You could be forgiven for assuming that such a religion-saturated situation would be uncomfortable for an active, outspoken, even vociferous atheist like me. It was not; not in the least.

The atmosphere was love and acceptance. I could not have felt more part of the family if I’d been evangelical myself. In a previous post (“An atheist with religious loved ones,” Jan. 28) I spoke appreciatively of my extended family’s demonstration of affection unhampered by our great philosophical divide. Frankly, that’s the way we’d all want the world to be—loving despite disagreement. The Bible’s reference to lion and lamb lying down together may not transfer to Christians and Muslims, but it does describe my family and me.

That said, an atheist in my circumstance must still deal with what to do when others pray, sing hymns, or comfort each other with scriptural references. I must honor my own integrity as well as be tolerant toward those who believe differently. But policy comes down to behavior, so for me there are some simple rules:

1. I neither bow my head nor close my eyes during prayer. To do seems false. I look at the person saying the prayer as I would if he or she were giving a lecture or simply expressing wishes. I typically do not look all about, scanning the assembly of closed eyes, since that seems intrusive to me.

2. During the singing of hymns I just keep quiet, for voicing the lyrics seems false as well.

3. Honesty requires me not to participate, but also not to be disruptive. After all, in the church setting, it is their playing field, not mine, and that makes me a guest with guest obligations.

4. In general, common courtesy is called for and remembering that persons of another persuasion are individual human beings who mean to do good; they are not carriers of an enemy banner.

One of my behaviors, however, may seem discrepant. The Alzheimer’s progression of the younger of my sisters still spares some of her facilities, leaving her unprotected from life’s tragedies. She was distraught, for she’s cognizant enough to bear the brunt of her spouse’s death, yet unable to understand all the ramifications and even, I assume, optimally to absorb the comfort being offered by friends and family. Alzheimer’s or not, he was her life.

Before her husband’s death, their son and daughter, grandchildren, church friends, and other relatives had given him and my sister far more support and personal presence than had I. Still, she and I had a unique relationship of shared childhood and teen years. So though I figured less in her adult life than they, the sibling link is special. Yet, who was I to offer comfort to a deeply religious sister since, in so many ways, I was truly the least able of those around her. I found, however, that my repeatedly whispered comments to her seemed to have a consoling effect. Those comments, heard by no one else, were ones that fit her beliefs, not mine. This is “just the in-between,” I told her repeatedly, having made sure she understood that I meant between earthly life and the afterlife she believes in. To me, death is death; to her, death for the faithful is but a passage. Reminding her seemed to be the best salve I had to give.

One can make the case that I was being two-faced; perhaps I was, at least on a technical scale. But I’d say that in a contest between compassion and accuracy, compassion holds the winning hand. The point was not to challenge theology, but to comfort her in confusion and pain. One of my wonderful relatives—one not an atheist, but struggling with inquiry—afterward told me about feeling uneasy, maybe even a bit apologetic, about choosing to comfort my sister with religiously loaded words, simply because they “seemed right to say.”

But why not? Philosophical accuracy, as critical as I believe it to be, is in my calculus less important than the humanity involved with a loved one in pain. Such times are not for verbal combat, but for comfort. Yes, the need for opposition is real, but it is not a repudiation of that need to confirm something even more important. We are in this world together and have wildly differing ideas about our state. If the “together” doesn’t outrank the “differing,” we are in a sad state, indeed.

Clearly, to me religion is intellectually vapid, philosophically sophomoric, and morally corrupt. That doesn’t mean all religious people are naïve, unethical, or less intelligent. Religion’s flawed mode of thinking degrades intelligent, caring people in ways that don’t characterize other, more reasonable parts of their lives. Christianity pays homage to a spiteful, cruel god, frighteningly described in the canon; he is by no means a god of love. My family worships that god, unaware that their caring, their affection, their warmth, and their love are far greater than the phantasm they serve.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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Is secular humanism a religion?

It is not uncommon for people to use atheism and secular humanism interchangeably. Both are vociferously condemned by the faithful; it is not clear that they know the difference. Atheism has little philosophical content. We humans come into the world as atheists; newborns are atheists until taught something else. Some atheists don’t really care about the philosophical fine points; they just haven’t developed a belief. But among adults who arrive at atheism through thought, atheism is born out of extensive philosophical inquiry.

Atheists as individuals have a multitude of philosophical positions, including political and social ones. They are united only in their failure to believe there to be a supernatural force that can, in whatever varieties, be called a god or gods. “Atheism” announces not what one believes, but what one does not. Arguably, it is a silly practice to define oneself by what one is not—just as if we all proclaimed we are a-Easterbunnyists and a-Toothfairyists. Well, it would be unnecessary except in an environment where the majority is adamantly theistic, sometimes militantly so.

Secular humanism, on the other hand, does have specific content. It is normally combined with atheism, but its “soul” is a belief in human beings as their own “salvation,” resulting in an ethics-centered “dogma” free of the foolishness contained in all religious moral codes. Its thesis goes something like this:

We have no reason to believe in supernatural forces that dictate how we should live and what mysteries explain the universe. We are, so far as we now know, alone and dependent on ourselves, not on some guessed-at power in the sky, and certainly not on ancient texts with questionable provenance. Therefore, as responsible beings, we must develop ethical principles to guide how we live and especially how we treat each other. We abhor what religion has repeatedly enabled religious people to do to others in the name of their faiths. We despair over the detrimental effect religion has had, and continues to have, on morality. (I will back up that statement in a later blog post.)

That is the core of secular humanism. Its very name is self-explanatory. It is not essentially a campaign against other beliefs and it is not a product of the devil. If it is flawed, we secular humanists are to blame, not somebody’s Beelzebub. If from time to time it appears to war with religion, it is because religion seems constitutionally driven to denigrate secular humanism just as it belittles any philosophy or religion outside itself, even by minor variations.

Of course, secular humanists are as intrigued by what makes our reality work as anyone, we just don’t have the fallback position that “God did it,” a position that resolves nothing while clothing our ignorance in what appears to be an answer. We find no evidence for a God, much less the extensively described characteristics which religions spell out in detail. We are enthusiastic supporters of the scientific method.

The value of secular humanism is its stark honesty about our human position in the universe—at least as much of our position as evidence reveals—and its equally unadorned acceptance of our responsibility in the matter. Like atheism, it does not claim to know there is no supernatural, just that should there be a supernatural, it is just that, supernatural and for now unattainable to us natural beings. We’ve no excuse to blame our condition on the phantasms of ancient peoples nor to await divine solution from the imagined beyond.

Secular humanism is not religion, but it is a philosophy of life with more carefully defined ethics/morality, less superstitious contamination, and a more responsible interpersonal and intercultural approach to human beings living together on an increasingly crowded planet.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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Is atheism itself a religion?

For centuries atheism has been considered the lack of religion. Modern religion apologists, however, have turned logic on its ear and declared that atheism is itself a religion: the religion of rejecting religion! (There may be ancient roots of this practice, but I am unaware of any.) But wait, could they be right? Is atheism just another religion? If so, what difference would it make?

I am obligated to give the proposition a fair hearing, but am compelled first to recognize the sophistry that may motivate it. An example from my last post will explain what I mean. As individuals in the USA, we are guaranteed freedom of religious expression and practice, which is to say that the government does not have that same freedom. Individuals have it. But the government is a collection of individuals as is any institution, so governmental expression (for example, laws, punishments, decrees, endorsements) comes out of the mouths and actions of individuals. What a police officer directs us to do and what an elected official declares (all in their official capacities) are actions of the government. So are the actions of a public school teacher. That is why civil libertarians are adamant that teachers not declare in word or deed religious positions to students, who are captive audiences. Figures of the religious right, exercising a characteristic twist of thinking, complain that since teachers have freedom of religion just as everyone else, to constrain them from religious expression in the classroom is to violate their religious freedom!

My point is that one motivation for calling un-religion a religion is either ignorance or duplicity. But my peremptorily discarding that argument does not settle the matter. So please indulge my going further.

There is a way in which atheism can legitimately be considered a religion: When the word is very broadly defined to mean a guiding philosophy of any kind to which one is committed. (In fact, the adverb religiously conveys a compulsive attention to getting something right or getting it done.) Hence, we might say “Keynesian economics is her religion,” “Soviet Communism was a civil religion,” or “To the Tea Party, debt reduction is a religion.” Just before typing these words, I saw a bumper sticker announcing that “Loving Kindness is my Religion.”

It is in this way that atheism can be called a religion. But that stretched definition includes stamp collecting, making money, and, yes, atheism, but only by “evangelical” atheists. So this use of the word religion can be eliminated from consideration, for my concern is the description of atheism as religion in the latter’s traditional definition. It would be a screaming flaw in argumentation (though a common one) to use a word the legitimacy of which has been established in one setting as a term in another setting for which it is not legitimate.

So what is this other setting that is normally meant when a person speaks of religion in a philosophical context? Definitions can differ, of course, but the minimal requirements seem to be a philosophical position that posits (a) a powerful supernatural force that (b) demands of human beings fealty, obedience, or worship. “Force” here can be god, gods, animist entities, etc. You can see that a without b yields deism; belief in b without a yields a human dictatorship.

Thus it is that a position that expresses the absence of belief in any supernatural force (a-theism) cannot at the same time be religion. QED.

The claim that atheism is just another religion among the many Catholic, Lutheran, Shia, Hebrew, Hindu, and other versions past and present is false on its face. Therefore, proponents of the claim speak either from lack of knowledge or an intention to mislead.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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There must be “something out there”

Life consists of profundities, occasional great wisdom, and enough trite, boneheaded statements to make one give up on language. For whatever reason the universe frequently sprinkles weird thoughts on our otherwise reliable brains, the hackneyed phrase that came to mind this morning is the frequently shallow, ersatz philosophical, misty-eyed wonderment that there must be “something out there.”

Perhaps I’m being too harsh. In fact, there is no alternative to there actually being something out there, though the phrase doesn’t distinguish among the Andromeda Galaxy, dark matter, and Zeus. I suppose the speaker would not have meant one of those, but an unidentified “something” that, if known, would explain most if not all the mysteries of reality or, indeed, what reality is. That brand of agnosticism coming from someone influenced by Abrahamic religions likely refers to a person-like god of which existing religions are but a pale reflection.

Yes, I know the phrase might just be an expression of disappointment—or perhaps hope—in reaction to the “is this all there is?” cliché. But to risk making heavy weather of the matter, “there must be something out there” can be a last ditch effort to save oneself from descent into atheism. I admit it has a patina of cosmology, the kind where quizzical pondering substitutes for thoughtful inquiry. Come to think of it, although I’ve heard the phrase uttered many times, I can count on one hand the times the utterer went further into deliberation, as if proposing a great spiritual force was enough to demonstrate one.

Besides, why is it there must be the kind of something pontificators mean by the phrase. “Musts” are propositions themselves requiring proof in logic or in demonstration. So I suppose the most cogent response would simply be “why?” Why must there be the speaker’s kind of “something” out there? And, while I’m on a roll, what exactly is “out there”? It seems to imply not here, but somewhere else. Maybe I’m being overly severe again. Maybe “out there” is akin to the ubiquitous, loose wording that conveys that heaven is up (which would be down to our antipode friends) or that the moon is a nocturnal object (it’s “up” as often in daytime as at night).

OK, I’ll stop this and merely note that there is a lot of the universe we haven’t understood yet and may never be so privileged as to do so. To say those as-yet unknown parts are the “something” that is out there doesn’t express anything worth noting, since it merely says there are things beyond what we now know. But if the expression is meant to refer to something supernatural, then we are justified in asking just what the speaker has in mind. Where “must” demonstrably fits (as just shown) is meaningless; where “must” does not demonstrably fit (i.e., where it goes beyond a mere a truism) is pure conjecture.

And speaking of must, I must get back to more meaningful blog posts. But I hope readers can tolerate occasional light-minded, not to say frivolous, musings. However, that may be an unnecessary worry on my part.

There might not be somebody out there.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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An atheist with religious loved ones

My rejection of Christianity began when I was 19 or 20 while posted to an Air Force base in Germany. To my knowledge, my family-of-origin had never experienced one of their own abandoning the faith. Theirs, I should note, was a faith of such a narrow construction that my becoming a Baptist or Lutheran, much less an agnostic, would have been met with horror. Now, more than a half century later, I know of only one other member of my extended family other than my daughters and granddaughters who are atheists.

For the first few years my father and sisters made an unsuccessful effort to convince me that losing faith was a bad idea, jeopardizing my soul and those of my daughters. (Frankly, I did not “lose” my faith; I jettisoned it.) My having so carefully thought through the competing arguments left them nothing to add that I hadn’t already considered in detail. For the five intervening decades, I’ve been part of a predominately Christian extended family.

Over the years, however, despite the vast philosophical gap, I’ve never experienced a rift in familial affection and respect. I’m certain my Christian relations sincerely and deeply would like for me to embrace some version of Christianity, but there is never any evangelical intrusion in the slightest. That goes both ways, of course. My readiness to discuss religious topics at any time does not extend to drawing them into arguments.

While I have no respect for religion, I have a great deal of respect for persons who are religious. Though unspoken, Christian members of my family who don’t respect atheism still accord me just as much respect as I am obligated (and pleased) to show them. I am fortunate. It is not uncommon for religious families to have appalling attitudes and exhibit hurtful treatment toward their nonreligious members. There were times, not so distant, that an unbeliever in the family would meet a fate similar to the shunning of pregnant unwed daughters and homosexual sons. My family has always been accepting of me, if not of my beliefs.

This blog post, then, is a public “thank you” to each and every one of my Christian family, ones who love me despite what to them must be a despicable position. I can assure them of just as much respect in return.

And, of course, that’s the important feature: respect as persons, no matter how intellectually offensive we find each other’s beliefs. How else can the world work?

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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Should science class include religion?

A reader recently asked why Neil deGrasse Tyson said in a video interview that religion should not be allowed in the science classroom. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting and hearing this charming and humorous astrophysicist, but of course I’ve no license to speak for him. I can, however, explain why his assertion is reasonable. The simple answer, of course, is that science isn’t religion, just as it is not English literature or algebra. But as you’d guess, there is more involved in this issue than simple separation of curricula.

The main reason is that religion and science are two very different ways of knowing. (They’re based on incompatible epistemologies.) To describe reality or determine truth, religion relies on faith, the testimony of authorities, and internal feelings. Science—the much younger discipline—relies on skepticism, rigorous precision, and evidence. Sometimes their separate results agree; sometimes they do not. Moreover, each can get things wrong, though science has a greater penchant for self-correction and more tolerance for disagreement.

Science is normally carried out using measurements as precise as instruments of the time allow, the testing of hypotheses, and verifying or discarding whole complex theories. (We normally think of science as proving this or that true. But a closer look reveals that science proceeds with rigorous attempts to prove hypotheses ITALuntrue.) Religion compels toward dogma and against blasphemy. Science compels toward proof and against unproven claims. Normally, religion’s beliefs are indoctrinated in youth, not discovered by adult skeptical rigor. Few scientists have burned other scientists at the stake or even condemned them to hell.

So while children in school (or church or family) can be taught religion and science, these are two separate things. Science tempered by religion is no longer science. But religion tempered by science is still religion, though of a less dogmatic, less supernatural, more liberal sort. Religions differ drastically, even belligerently. While the facts alleged by science are always in flux, it’s easy to characterize where they are at any given time. And there is nothing in science that corresponds to the splintered dogmas of religion. Consequently, a class can teach science without having to choose among different, possibly warring “denominations” of science. To teach religion requires choosing from among multiple belief systems in which people have passionate emotional investments.

There are, then, two problems with religion in the science classroom: First, doing so will almost certainly damage the integrity of science and dilute its special epistemic position in the world of fact-finding. Second, doing so requires the choice of which religion (or faction within a religion) to allow in. This latter challenge would be easy (though stultifying) if we had a state religion, for the choice would be made for us! But across the world and even in our one country, there are multiple religious identities. In the USA that healthy variety is due in part to our founders wise separation of church and state, protecting each from the other.

It is important to recognize that keeping religion out of science instruction—that is, allowing religion to have no bearing on the methods and findings of science—is not an attack on religion nor is it even a prejudicial comment on religion. The separation protects both, allowing religion to use whatever methods of knowing are chosen by its adherents, unconstrained by the rigorous rigidity of science . . . and allowing science to follow evidence wherever it leads, unconstrained by religious opposition and even charges of blasphemy.

I realize my comments overlook the impassioned desire of many religious people for public schools to reinforce their specific religion—if not even to teach it for them—to the exclusion of other religions and certainly to the exclusion of any scientific conclusions that contradict their own faith. (Governmental teaching of religion or promoting religion is an attack on religious freedom of students, as our founders recognized. Of course, teachers as individuals have the same freedom as everyone else, but while representing the state, there is no such right, for that would constitute a state endorsement of the teacher’s beliefs. In a number of recent court cases, teachers or schools have turned logic on its ear with the risible claim that teachers’ religious freedom includes promoting their religious beliefs to students!)

Teaching students any one religion in public schools—or any religion’s commentary on scientific findings—is tantamount to the government’s choosing not only religion over disbelief, but one religion over all others. That is an infringement on the religious freedom of all but the chosen faith.

If we as a people want our children to understand science, then we must teach them what science is and what it can mean in their occupational and personal lives. If individual families want their children to understand their religion, they have an opportunity to teach them what their specific religious faith is and what it can mean in their occupational and personal lives. Religious freedom is a precious right in modern countries, but it does not extend to subverting science.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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Are atheists offended by religion?

I can’t speak for atheists. I can only speak for myself. This atheist isn’t normally offended about anything. Fact is, this world holds an abundance of awesome experiences and affectionate relationships. Being mad much of the time would be very, very sad—to be avoided as much as possible, short of the pseudo-happiness of Pollyanna-ism.

So just for myself, I can say that emotional reactions to a world in which atheism is a minority position is not a matter of being offended. I’m not offended by religious billboards, prayers that go nowhere, and other Christian behaviors that I find misguided and often bullying. I do react to such things, but the pertinent reactions are not offense. They are either disappointment or anger.

Disappointed. I am disappointed when I see individuals or whole populations seemingly unable to attain the discipline, ethics, or reasoning power that our imaginations can conceive, but our behavior cannot achieve. I have that reaction on each instance of dupability that enables religious faith to be treated as truth without evidence. (Though not my focus here, this disappointment applies to politics and individual relationships as well.) My decades of reconceptualizing the job of boards of directors showed me that many board members are just not capable of grasping the paradigmatic shift required to govern in a more precise, conceptually whole way. I have been disappointed in my own limits with respect to learning challenging information, sticking to a diet or persevering in an exercise routine. We all live with disappointment due to our species’s limitations. It is disappointing to see people trying so hard yet still failing due to bumping up against those limits. My reaction isn’t to get angry or to take offense.

Angered: As an atheist (or simply a product of the Enlightenment) I am angry with individuals and groups that force their beliefs on others. In modern history, the greatest religious offenders are the Catholic and Islamic leaders. (Political despots like Pol Pot, Hitler, Stalin, and Mugabe act similarly, though not always with a religious element.) When churches in the United States push their faith agenda on public institutions (schools, courthouses, city councils, military), I get angry. When they spread misinformation about the ethics of non-believers, I get angry. Such “tyranny over the mind of man,” as Jefferson put it, are too infuriating for one merely to take offense.

Offended: Let me say loudly that I have no right not to be offended. Neither do religious believers. The world simply doesn’t owe us the coddling of an inoffensive environment. Recent years have seen uncountable complaints from Christians offended about atheist or humanist billboards. Islam has displayed its thin skin in mass protests against cartoon depictions of Mohammed. Atheists as well are sometimes guilty of taking offense. When I read of atheists claiming to be offended by, say, ubiquitous city council pre-meeting prayers, I am disappointed in the weakness of their response (and in the implied notion that no one should offend them). The Constitutional violation of government prayers deserves something far more substantive than the feeble taking of offense. I am not offended by public schools or other arms of government that display Bible themes or express religious sentiments—I am mad as hell about their religious bullying and appropriation of the public square for their religion. Being offended misses the mark on two counts. It trembles before situations that call instead for spirited opposition. It suggests that atheists themselves deserve not to be offended.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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The epistemic fog of politics (#1)

I am in constant distress about politics no matter who is winning, who is being exposed, and even who has policies that delight me. Political discourse in the United States has deteriorated to a point I’ve never seen. Before my lifetime, it was pretty terrible during other times; around 1800 comes to mind as one instance. At any rate, my distress is that political arguments—as necessary as they are invigorating—are hollow and misinformed when they could be and should be profound.

I make no claim that the American scene is representative of other countries, though that in itself would be an interesting inquiry. My observation is that American politics has deteriorated into a team sport wherein the aim is to win at all costs over the other team. Cherry-picking, spinning the facts, disinformation, and outright lying have become the norm. Not only do politicians and other partisans join in that mockery of important issues, but the general public has come to accept it instead of revile it. If a political point is to be made, we are ready to tolerate, excuse, and even exult in untruths by our “own side,” while trigger-happy to pounce on behavior of the “other side.” The mendacity we once ascribed to politicians is true of the ordinary voter.

One side makes charges about the perfidy or incompetence of the other side, using whatever weapon is at hand. Truth—as observed about war by U.S. Senator Hiram Johnson in 1917—is the first casualty of politics. One of the virtues of transparency is that conduct of the public’s business is open to inspection and judgment. But having the access and wherewithal to make such judgments imposes an accountability for honesty and fairness in the judging. In politics, however, like often in business, human beings seem more inclined toward back alley brawls than reasoned debate.

One reader of this blog sent me a data-rich condemnation of President Obama a few weeks ago. It was replete with graphs and lists to prove the horrid depths to which the republic has fallen since Mr. Obama took office. My reader, to his credit, recognized that “the graphs may be somewhat inaccurate,” though was sufficiently moved by them to add that “they are close enough to describe a bleak situation.” In sharing my thoughts on the matter, for simplicity I’ll speak of the Accuser and the Accused; the phenomenon of this elevated street fighting is not just a matter of the present Democrats and the present Republicans—the government and the shadow government in a parliamentary setting. I’ll use these terms to stand for individuals or collections of individuals that call attention to reputed misdeeds (Accuser) and those that defend against accusations of misdeeds (Accused).

First critical proviso. There is always an unspoken assumption that weakens the Accuser’s case even if the condemnatory data are accurate: The assumption is that the Accuser would have done things better, avoided mistakes, or been more honest than the Accused. That is, the Accuser implies that things would not be so bad if the Accuser had been or were now in office.

Of course, there are no data to prove such an assumption about what would have or might have been. There can’t be. So no matter how honest the accusations are, they do not overcome this significant weak point in the Accuser’s argument. That Achilles’ heel does not mean the Accuser’s claims are bogus, but it does mean that it can never be fairly used to endorse the Accuser. No matter how true and how condemnatory, then, accusations don’t show that the Accuser would have been or done better.

Second critical proviso. The Accuser normally conflates accusations that can be made of government performance in general (that is, of all administrations) with performance peculiar to the accused administration. When not being partisan, we all carp about government ineptitude. We criticize government workers for their incompetence and laziness (though in my opinion unjustifiably). But when we want to make a partisan point, we are quick to blame any perceived government malperformance on the targeted party in power. So when our intent is to blame one side, we appropriate our general government criticisms to that end.

Further, if there are societal trends that have nothing to do with party, the Accuser will use that against the Accused where possible. For example, some claim that in the past century there is a trend for economic recovery from recessions to take increasingly longer. (I am not making a case for that here, just using it to illustrate a point.) If so, the current recovery is prolonged in part due to that trend as much perhaps as due to either the depth of the Bush recession or subsequent Obama actions. Another trend is that effects of the increasingly computerized and roboticized workplace are inflicting huge changes in labor conditions and job displacement. Many jobs lost will never be restored regardless of economic recovery, thereby extending workers’ pain somewhat like the industrial revolution did in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. It is easy to see how so massive a trend would be used against whatever administration is unlucky enough to be in power when the effects are being felt.

Conclusion. The ubiquitous accusations from Accusers against Accused in political discourse can never be taken at face value even if all the Accuser’s accusations are truthful. I have to this point assumed that the Accuser’s accusations are always accurate and honest. But what if, in addition to the natural fog of politics we add intentional bending of the facts and outright perfidy? Those considerations I want to address later in a second posting on this topic.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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Morality is too important to be left to religion

What is the most important attribute of human societies? Among the important are inquisitiveness, sense of beauty, technical cleverness, and affectionate bonding. I am musing about that this rainy morning in Atlanta; maybe that’s what rainy days are for. My unhurried reflection has yielded this proposition: The most important societal characteristic is ethics, known outside a philosophy class as morality.

Most of the other admirable human qualities would be admirable even if there were no other humans around. That’s why I specified humans in societies, whether the society is two or seven billion. At the point where you or me turns into you and me, morality becomes important to the quality of life and sometimes to life itself. Moreover, morality works best when its features are consensual or, at least, widely known—hence, moral codes.

Since it seems all human societies have rules that we would call morality, one can make the case that we have a genetic predisposition to morality. But the need is so obvious that one could credit our big, analytic brains for filling that need. I’m not knowledgeable enough to have an informed opinion on that nature/nurture issue. But whether inherited or learned, humans are in a position to recognize the need, argue the specifics, and continually improve our codes.

On this challenge, the ball is in our park. There is no supernatural source for laying down the rules. If there were, we’d have even more trouble deciding which presumed cosmic influence to heed. Besides, those ghostly powers seem, by and large, more interested in how we pay them tribute than how we treat each other. (Christians: take a look at the vaunted Ten Commandments…either set.) The upshot is that intelligent pursuit of morality is contaminated with religious beliefs.

People make up religions (religions other than one’s favorite, at any rate!) that set out rules of morality, albeit conflated with rules of piety. Having created religion, adherents then claim the rules are commandments from the supernatural. We are thus relieved of responsibility for the rules themselves, no matter how outlandish. Karl Georg Buchner, 19th century German playwright and poet, put it well when he said that religions adduce morality as proof of God, then cite God in support of morality—circular reasoning, he said, “like a dog biting his own tail.”

The Pope’s condemnation of condoms for a gay population ravaged by AIDS demonstrates the substitution of religious rules for humaneness. That is the kind of contamination I mean. When the press turns to clergy for thoughtful discussion of some morality issue, it falls into the trap of thinking religion is the best—or even a credible—source for moral inquiry. That the faithful have the temerity to present their moral judgments as God-inspired is not only ludicrous but damaging to the advance of morality. Not only was slavery blessed by their God, but so was the subjugation of women and horrendous treatment of gays. The beatification of Mother Teresa, whose reputation as a living saint, hides inhumane treatment of patients under her care. The Catholic Church boldly pretends to moral authoritativeness while in the shadows it exposed young people to abusive priests. Gott mit uns inscribed on Nazi belt buckles is silent testimony.

There’s a gravely disturbing irony in believers’ dismissive, frequently haughty labeling of nonbelievers’ morality as relativism. I’ve a friend who’s convinced his morals come from God. Actually, he goes a bit further: All real morality comes from his particular Jehovah God, despite his God’s horridly immoral behavior as reported in allegedly his own scripture. My friend recognizes that there are moral codes among unconverted souls, whether they be atheists or believers with the wrong beliefs. But those codes are like boats cut off from firm moorings. God’s code of how to behave is distinct from codes without divine provenance. It is divinely authorized and stable, not subject to the whim of mankind. To deny his God is to be forever adrift in moral relativism. His tone left no doubt he thought relativism to be evil.

But about that stability . . . To take my friend’s position requires one to disregard the changes Christian morality has gone through over the centuries and even during the past few decades. Christians of earlier ages were certain they knew God’s feelings clearly on the matter, as do Christians today. They knew so confidently that no mistreatment of dissenters was too vicious to protect their beliefs. But wait; did God change? Was all that theological confidence misdirected then, but now believers have it right? Or could that be the other way ’round? (The alleged Jesus compassionately declared that some slaves should not be beaten as hard as others, but never denounced slavery.) Are the rules relative to changing times and situations? Was slavery OK before, but not later? Or was it wrong before and the Christians who supported it misled? Could it be (gasp!) that Christians are really relativists in sheep’s clothing?

People who think they have a line straight from heaven cannot abide relativism even while they practice it. Relativism with regard to morality in their view is like walking a treacherous path with no guardrail. Viewed from the faith-supported safety and certainty of his Christian position, my friend figured that my status promotes unrestricted license. Compared to the demands of his God-given code, he thought I could do anything I wish. (I failed to ask how much worse I could get than some Christian and Muslim practices have been.) My morality must have appeared to him to be rather flimsy; after all, going assiduously by the rules is not so impressive when you can write your own rules. But there may have been an even more critical aspect of my ownership of my own morality: Since all morality comes from God, what I am doing is tantamount to playing God!

I’m not saying there is nothing to be learned or even preserved in the various moral codes religions have spawned. It is not all idiotic, though some certainly is. There are pervasive characteristics that would be wonderful to discard. In 2010, the Diocese of Phoenix punished a nun and stripped a hospital of its affiliation after doctors there performed an abortion to save the mother’s life. A substantial number of Christians have opposed lifesaving HPV immunizations because it might lead to more teenage sex. In my own life, being pressured into a religiously inspired no-sex-before-marriage commandment led my high school sweetheart and me into an ill-advised teenage marriage.

Interestingly, much of the morality propagated by Christians has a decidedly genital focus. Its emphasis on ridiculous rules about sexuality, about what one may not do with one’s genitals or even one’s healthy lust is an obsession. Christians have long disregarded long Biblical lists of sins in order to pick out a very few obscure condemnations of homosexuality (male only, by the way) to excuse near-witch hunt shunning, denigration, and even physical abuse. (In those instances, guess which party was considered immoral!) Even criticizing someone’s immorality brings to mind sexual matters more often than dishonesty, unkindness, unfair judgment, or failure to pay debts. Apart from the general morals that apply to everything, making sexuality a matter of morality at all is absurd. Despite the obsession of Christians and Muslims, there is absolutely no need for a genital morality.

The human race needs morality. But it does not need counterfeits born in bronze age ignorance and superstition. Not only is much of religious morality simply silly, by claiming a divine source it corrupts and impedes humanity’s quest to govern our behaviors toward one another in a fair and knowledgeable way. It needs to be sufficient, not overly restrictive, logical enough to command respect, and free of supernaturalism.

That would be secular humanism. For at the heart of secular humanism is commitment to and further pursuit of a sensible, just, and (where it applies) scientifically valid code of ethics.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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What’s God have to do with religion?

Whether there’s a god is normally fought out between religious people and irreligious people, as if god=religion and no god=non-religion. I make the case that if there is a god (or even God), nothing even then would point us toward or necessitate religion. I don’t mean “organized religion,” I mean any religion.

But allow me to start with an observation no one will dispute: Definitions of god(s) differ. That is one reason arguments frequently involve enough ill-defined concepts as to resemble conservatives and liberals arguing about socialism. So let me construct a framework for considering whatever it is that does or does not exist.

I shall assume there is a god. I will assume god rather than gods to make this simple. I will leave this god unnamed to avoid at the outset the numerous characteristics different faiths ascribe to the entity. This god has no gender so for now must remain an it. However, completely stripped of characteristics, the word god signifies nothing but a pointless sound. So at this point, god (it) could just as well be represented by X.

That will not do for long, of course, since you can hardly work up a good argument even in Hyde Park speakers’ corner over whether an X exists. In order to get started here it’ll be necessary to prime the pump by agreeing to the most minimal of characteristics. Since my intent—even though starting at such an abstract point—is eventually to be relevant to the common, everyday discussion of God, I fear anything less would have no usefulness as a barebones starting point. Consequently, I propose this startup definition for X:

X is a conscious entity with powers of thought and intention, free of any boundaries of space, time, and power.

Surely X has more attributes than those, but in view of my having only begun this discussion, building a more complete picture of X has to be taken one step at a time. Because we hope to discover or to presume more characteristics, let us label this first stage of our supposition X1. There, now we’re getting someplace!

What can we add to the X1 characteristics? (This is a blog, not a book, so please permit me to omit the fine points.) How about whether X1 takes note in any way of humans on our minuscule orb. Choosing “yes” or “no” to that question can constitute, respectively, the X2 level of conjecture, but with those two alternatives, thereby creating possible choices X2A and X2B. Of course, picking A means rejecting B and vice versa. It is hard to know on what basis we’d make such a supposition, but that’s a nicety I’ll skip blithely past (remember: blog, not book).

I’ll pick “yes” (choice X2A). So beginning with X1, we’ve made our way to X2A in which this entity takes note of humans. (Absent any compelling reason, why not? It seems more interesting and it is the choice most humans have made.) We might have decided upon X2B and would have been directed down an entirely different path of possibilities, but we did not.

Still, even though X2A is aware of us sniveling bipeds, that leads to the next set of possibilities. I can think of quite a range of options within that characteristic, all the way from the mechanistic awareness X2A might have about cell division or capillarity, to intimate knowledge of our species and its psychology.

That range of possible awareness has fifteen possibilities (surely far more, but I’m simplifying). So let’s say, then, that our initial X1‘s awareness of us may at this point have been conjectured to be somewhere on the range of X2A1 to X2A15. Let’s suppose our choice is X2A8, wherein the entity has not just a passing interest in our species, but a more intimate interest in each one of us (the “personal god” idea). Although the existence of X2A was of scientific interest, the choice of X2A8, adds poetic interest as well. Now we really are getting somewhere!

(I realize my labeling—meant to be a helpful tool—is beginning to look like military equipment serial numbers. If you don’t have patience for them, just skim along understanding the idea of sequential, multiple choices from a host of alternatives at each step, along with its attendant mathematical burgeoning. If any smartalecks out there question why I didn’t just say that in the first place, I say get your own blog. Besides, some of these might be useful as passwords.)

Let’s take a breath here just to restate the nature of these options, remembering that with each choice along the way we discard all the other possibilities, not just a couple of options but an unknown number. Let us remember as well that after choosing to reject all those other options, we have so far not gotten down to a choice where there is even a whiff of religion implied. And we should not lose sight that for all the choices so far, we’ve had nothing but our imaginations to set the ranges of possibilities or, worse, to choose among them. But let us plow ahead, for the next level of supposition awaits.

Our assumed entity X2A8 could have a hands off, watchful interest in humans (like deists would have it) or some sort of interaction with individual humans and their environment. The range of possibilities here, too, is a big one, let’s say a range of X2A8A to X2A8M. For argument’s sake, I will choose X2A8F which is, let us suppose, the characteristic wherein X2A8 wants to be shown respect that is due an entity of its obvious grandeur—maybe adulation, gifts of fruit or firstborn, or death of nonbelievers.

Hold it right here a moment. I have gone far enough to bore myself and you and we still haven’t gotten to the point of distinguishing the deities posited by Islam, Mormonism, Catholicism, or the occasional Rastafarian. And within each of these will be further choices of the entity’s positions on dogma and behavior. We are still without data or criteria available to help in picking one option over another, though there are plenty of reasons one might like one versus another or might have been taught one versus another. There are ragged records of the various choices our ancestors made in the last few millennia, but they are contradictory and irrelevant to our choices anyway, since their choices would have been even more uninformed.

I reiterate that we have ignored countless other paths we might have taken in these first few steps of conjecture and will ignore far more as we go on toward greater specificity. Nevertheless, though untold other choices have been discarded, we find some specific person—perhaps you, gentle reader—with a full measure of faith in the resulting X2A8F77J45K5 so strong as to be inseparable from his/her/(your?) very being, so self-evidently true as to be beyond question, in fact so much so that even questioning may be construed to be a capital offense to this version of God.

At this level of specificity for some particular person’s God, a few of the many characteristics of X2A8F77J45K5 may include omniscience, omnipresence, omnipotence, total perfection, anger about sin but having provided a remedy, disapproving of sex or even desire of sex outside marriage or with a same gender partner, misreading a holy book, use of blood transfusions, missing confession, letting women’s hair show, driving a car……OK, you see where I’m going. (I’d apologize for pairing characteristics that don’t go together—e.g., Muslim and Catholic beliefs—but no matter. As philosophers have pointed out for a long time, pairing omnipotence and perfect goodness doesn’t work either, a discrepancy that doesn’t bother either Christians or Muslims a bit!).

A specific believer who has chosen X2A8F77J45K5 seeks out others of similar faith in order to hear repeatedly and confidently from the pulpit, synagogue, mosque, or confessional that it was right to discard the millions of optional choices (though with no credible reasons for any choice along the way), thus arriving against momentous odds, almost by magic, at the TRUTH. What a commendable range of imagination we have to soothe our fear of the unknown!

Whew. That’s the short version. I skipped lots of steps, many branches in the unfolding options. But I also omitted, in and near the foundational point at the very top where the leverage is huge, that there might indeed have been several X1s. Or that whether there was only one or there were a thousand, it or they may have died or otherwise left the scene—gone to create other universes perhaps? Further on, I failed to mention the range upon which many make the choice that X1 is good (in human terms) or horridly bad. There is absolutely no reason God must be good. When a person remarks that she or he cannot believe in a cruel God, I wonder why not. A universe ruled by a cruel god is no less likely than a good one.

I think the biggest conceptual flaw in what I’ve done here is the order in which I’ve hypothesized which questions/choices confront us at each sequential level. I maintain, however, that the idea of rapidly burgeoning possibilities arising from such a sequence, even an approximated one, is still a valid illustration. Further, for fear of being completely obnoxious, I did not take the remaining choices on to completion, thereby representing what John or Judy Doe believes to be the detailed description of this God, along with slight variations of those choices (beliefs) through his or her lifetime.

It is no surprise, much as we know about our own psychology, that we are willing to give up many of life’s pleasures, pay penance in many forms, and make life miserable for those who have the audacity or ignorance to have chosen X2A8F77J51KU7 instead of the “right” X2A8F77J45K5, and even kill each other from time to time when it seems to our fevered imagination that God (the alleged X2A8F77J45K5, the fantasy to which we’ve subjugated ourselves) demands it. Of course, our race does not analyze and choose so much as it follows and mimics. We pride ourselves on slight variations we select in the name of individualism, unmindful that in almost all respects, we believe what we were taught.

An atheist—at least this atheist—sees going even as far as X1 to be a shot in the dark, so the gulf that exists between a religious believer and atheist or deist on matters of faith is massive. No wonder we talk past each other. Let me point out that I do not proclaim certain knowledge that there is no X1; very few atheists do. We cannot completely dismiss the possibility of there being a “higher power” of some sort, whether X1 or one with specifics we’ve not even considered in all the ages of speculation. But taking seriously that any religion so far has stumbled willy-nilly upon reality is like an infant happening upon the spin of quarks in a proton, so patently ridiculous as to deserve being dismissed out of hand. The Flying Spaghetti Monster is no more preposterous.

If we actually knew there to be an X1, it would be a most interesting fact, perhaps the greatest fact ever uncovered. But unless we make our way through an overwhelming maze of choices with unfathomably good luck, finding there to be a god or gods with religious implications has less chance than one in many thousands, putting concepts like worship, dogma, sin, heaven, hell, salvation, or divinity thoroughly into fantasyland.

Such a low probability is in practice indistinguishable from zero; nada, nothing. We’ve no idea whether a “conscious entity with powers of thought and intention, free of any boundaries of space, time, and power” exists, much less connects to the human practices we call religion. So except in our loosely assembled fiction, whether god does or does not exist has nothing to do with religion.


[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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Merry Krismas!

I like Christmas. My wife and I normally have a tree and exchange gifts. When our granddaughters were young—and geography and travel permitted—Christmas in alternate years we gathered with my daughters, their husbands, and their kids, with the usual overeating and good spirits. As if that weren’t enough, for over a decade we’ve frequently marked Hanukah with Jewish friends.

Many atheists approach Christmas pretty much the way others do with the exception of the Christ part. (Come to think of it, that’s the way most Christians celebrate it, else there wouldn’t be all those “put Christ back in Christmas” exhortations.) There are exceptions, of course. Tom Flynn, a prominent secular humanist publisher makes a respectable case against atheists participating in Christmas.

Some Christians know how their predecessors stole the holiday from its pagan sources, that except by fiat Christmas has no connection to the birthday of the presumed Jesus, and (for good measure) Easter and much of the Christian story was “borrowed” from earlier religions. (I’ll deal with the plagiarism of Christianity in a later post.) Still, despite these particulars, most Christians act as if Christmas re-enacts the Baby Jesus, wise men, shepherds, and substandard lodging.

I don’t mind greeting others with a hearty “Merry Christmas” or being wished a joyful Christmas myself. Happy Holidays works, too, though some fundamentalists get their noses out of joint about it. Somebody spread the silly rumor that there’s a war on Christmas by unbelievers. Bill O’Reilly and Fox’s previous official clown Glenn Beck partake in that brand of stupidity. Fundamentalists, who seem constitutionally unable to take a joke, get their dander up over every imagined challenge to the hegemony of their superstition.

It’s possible to get rather rigid and doctrinaire about greetings. I’m pretty laid back about it, refusing to treat a sincere greeting as a call to revolution. I happily tolerate “God bless you” from Christians in my home country just as happily as I accept “nameste” in Napal or, for that matter, “happy solstice” from a latter day hippie here. (Funny how we often give greater latitude to foreign cultures than we do to each other in our own.) I feel fortunate to receive genuine well-wishing in whatever faith or culture it’s framed. Seems to me that this world needs all the good tidings we can muster, not rules that cramp their expression, silly rules that discount good will because the words chosen to convey it are rooted in a different take on life.

After all, I have neither pains of conscience nor irritation when I say Thorsday or the common contraction “Go(o)d b’ye,” though there may be atheists who do. I only this month learned of Merry Krismas as a secular greeting from Dale McGowan’s Atheism for Dummies. I like its cleverness in incorporating the fun-in-giving of the Kris Kringle myth. (Atheists like myths as much as anybody, though we rarely confuse even the most wonderful of myths with fact.)

Not being a Christian, I don’t fret much about Jeremiah’s caution (chapter ten) against the vanity of customs wherein “A tree from the forest is cut down and worked with an axe by the hands of a craftsman [decorated] with silver and gold [and fastened] with hammer and nails so that it cannot move.” Given the botched-up job I’ve made trying to make trees stand up straight, a craftsman would have been a blessing. But my disregarding of Jeremiah isn’t mine alone; the Christians I’ve known don’t let the stick-in-the-mud prophet interfere with their decorating habits either. Apparently, choosing (and heeding) Bible selections cafeteria-style is as traditional as, well, leaving Christ out of Christmas.

Here’s the deal about Christmas. For billions it is a happy season—sometimes religious, sometimes not—offering at least momentary joy in a world with a joy shortage. There’s no war on it except to stop the pious from enlisting the government to protect their religion for them. (Fundamentalists have a bad habit of trying to control everything, then get upset if someone pushes back.) As I see it, Christians stole it from the pagans, so it’s only a good natured turnabout for us to steal it back!

All in the spirit of the holidays, of course. Merry Krismas!

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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God-given rights?

When I was a child growing up in America’s south, I could be forgiven for misspelling “damn Yankee” as one word; after all, that’s the sound that conveyed our intent, damnyankee. “God-given rights” also long ago acquired that single word status in America. Politicians and regular folks could demonstrate with each articulation that they were God-fearing Christians (there’s another term that bears examination). I suppose, if pressed, they’d recognize a distinction between rights they say are God-given and rights that are human-given. I’m willing to bet, however, that they’d have a hard time saying which is which and probably never gave it any thought.

The Enlightenment popularized the idea that people have or should have rights. It also shared some of that period with the spread of deism. The mixture is interesting and as observable in America’s founding fathers as anywhere else. After all, a deistic god—which was the meaning intended in documents like the Declaration of Independence by no small portion of our founders—doesn’t intervene in human affairs including, one would have to assume, the specifications of personal rights and responsibilities. Of course, it would be naïve to think when political figures use terms that they worry much about philosophical discipline. It should not surprise us that John Adams and Thomas Jefferson said some seemingly inconsistent things about deities, churches, clergy, and scripture over their impressive careers.

At any rate, the popular term and belief in America that rights are God-given begs the question about this particular god’s existence and our ability to know what he/she/it had to say on the matter. Whatever message the faithful discerned must have been a bit foggy about the role of women, divorcing, remarrying, political dissent, and a few other embarrassing items . . . either that or God is frustratingly fickle about such topics. I’d think that when you ascribe your own predilections to a divine source, you’d better get it right rather than just mindlessly slinging a slick term around.

I’ll cut to the chase: Human beings have no rights, that’s no rights, that are not given by other human beings. The rights don’t come from God, the Orion Nebula, or the Ten Commandments. The term God-given is a snare and delusion, telling something about the speaker but nothing at all about the authorship of his or her advocated set of rights.

What societies ascribe to gods is actually a human decision—a pretty obvious conclusion since different believers yank their puppet-God’s tongue in different directions. We pretend that God did the talking when in reality we’ve merely cloaked our own choices in robes of divinity. Our suppositions about God enable us to pretend our choices are those of the universe. What rights humans should have is an important human phenomenon and calls for a reasoned human decision.

The reasoned part is the sticking point. We don’t reason all that well when ancient texts rule our lives. Their provenance is confusing and their intent is to please a supposed deity rather than to inform our living on this planet together. There is nothing to recommend the Abrahamic Jehovah, Jesus, or Saul/Paul of Tarsus as a guide to rights, as any former slave could express more convincingly than I.

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Making atheism useless

I have been an atheist for over a half century. During most of that time I have wished the term weren’t needed. Believe me, I can find something else to do. (Actually I do anyway. I am lucky to have a plethora of interests, overwhelming to tell the truth.) But what is it about atheism I would like to flee?

To begin with, there’s something unsettling about a belief, a commitment, a philosophy, or self-identity that’s named by what it isn’t. I grew up as a Southerner, not a non-Northerner. I am an American, not a non-European. I am a man, not a non-woman. And on it goes—no need to cover all the nons when it is so specific and quite adequate to get right to the point and say what I am.

But an atheist (that is, an a-theist) is a non-theist in the same way a Caucasian is a non-African. I am against theism, yet this important part of my philosophical makeup requires theism for it to have a name! Bummer. Ask a Muslim what his or her philosophy of life is and the reply will never be non-Christian or non-Zarathustran, even though those names are not a-correct. But ask a non-theist/non-deist the same question and you might well get atheist as the reply.

Clearly, I am an atheist, but seldom would atheist be my reply to the what-are-you question. Atheism is not my philosophy of life nor even a very useful guide for behavior. My more thoughtful reply would be humanist or, more accurately, secular humanist. (There are versions of humanism that are not strictly secular.) I want to share more on what that means to me in a later post, but in the context of this post my focus is on its utility rather than its content.

But I haven’t explained why atheism is—or should become—useless, a descriptor that’s outworn its welcome. Like most adults, I got over believing in Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny, unicorns, and the tooth fairies. Yes, I did once believe these existed. However, I apostatized, falling thereby into the state of unbelief. I lost my faith, though I don’t remember any trauma associated with contemplating a world without these delightful illusions. But it never crossed my mind to call myself an asantaist, affairyist, aunicornist, or abunnyist.

If all the adults around me had kept their faith in santa, the asantaist descriptor may have come in handy. Of course, my point is that atheism is only useful in an environment of deism and theism, wherein the majority expects everyone to believe their way. Someday—maybe—if the human race outgrows its dependence on religious fantasy, atheism will sound as outmoded as aSupermanism.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

Posted in Atheism and other freethought, Secular humanism | Leave a comment

Thanksgiving: Whom does an atheist thank?

OK, fair question. When Christians thank God or pray thanks “in Jesus’s name,” what are the atheists in their midst doing?

Well, let me settle one thing right at the outset: atheists are as thankful and appreciative of good fortune as theists. So as to the basic intent, there’s no difference. I doubt there’s been credible research on the matter, but I’d say it’s a safe bet that atheists say “thank you” in normal human discourse as often as theists. So how about when there’s no person or god in the picture, no “thankee” for the thanker to thank?

Actually, that’s not a problem. Quite frequently everyone, theists included, feel and express thanks without a thankee. Even the phrase “thank God” is often used without any intent to thank God, but to express happiness that some event went well. It’s similar to the exclamation “Oh, God!” with no thought of a god . . . or “God damn” with not a hint of calling on a god to damn anything or anybody. So there’s nothing uncommon about a person feeling and expressing appreciation, gratitude, or thanks in an undirected way, that is, with no discernable thankee.

There are many events and circumstances that feel good, lift our spirits, or give us comfort. Atheists have as satisfying and deep feelings of appreciation and happiness about those things as anyone who believes they were provided by a gracious god or gods. An atheist feels as thankful about the good fortune of a loved one or, for that matter, a fortuitous roll of the dice as a theist.

Thankfulness is a human characteristic, not a theist characteristic. It delights and brightens our lives whether we believe goodness comes from the heavens, from our neighbors, or from our awesome natural universe.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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Atheists in public office

The framers of the Constitution that officially created—and as amended still governs—the United States of America were sensitive to the detrimental effects of government entangled with religion. The Constitution is not anti-religion by any means, but it is neutral about religion except to minimize its predictable bad effects when mixed with civic power. The founders were largely a mixture of Christians and Deists, the latter not being even recognizable as Christians to today’s fundamentalists: no savior, no resurrection, no hell, no trinity, and so forth. But to deal in this post with the ludicrous revisionism of Christian nation folks would take me off point. So I’ll save that for later.

To cement the non-religious character of the new government into place, the first amendment was added to say that “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof” (Amendment I). However, framers of the unamended text had already included a provision that “no religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office or public trust under the United States” (Article 6, paragraph 3). Ours was and continues to be a godless Constitution—a groundbreaking feature, first in the world, that has benefitted generations of religious and non-religious alike.

(Those Constitutional words were at first applicable only to the federal government, but the 14th amendment of 1868 extended the provisions to the states as well.)

Despite the decades that have gone by, many religious people continue trying to cripple the very prohibition that has allowed them such unfettered success. They do so by whatever legal and illegal means they can find. In the long run they are truly their own worst enemies; in the short run, however, they successfully use the awesome power of government to tend toward religious hegemony. They do it in many ways, from pressing public schools to teach their religious dogma as science (“intelligent design”), to securing favorable tax treatment for their clergy (IRS ministers’ exemptions), to forcing de facto religious tests into political campaigns (ever watch presidential primary debates?), to posting their Ten Commandments in courtrooms, to . . . no, I’ll stop there; the list is far longer than this post plus all the ones that preceded it.

This post, more specifically, is aimed at one point: Despite the Constitution that the Christian right piously claims to love, one state out of seven constitutionally prohibits atheists from holding public office! To wit:

Arkansas: No person who denies the being of a God shall hold any office in the civil departments of this State, nor be competent to testify as a witness in any Court. (Article 19, Section 1)

Maryland: That no religious test ought ever to be required as a qualification for any office of profit or trust in this State, other than a declaration of belief in the existence of God. (Article 37)

Mississippi: No person who denies the existence of a Supreme Being shall hold any office in this state. (Article 14, Section 265)

North Carolina: The following persons shall be disqualified for office: Any person who shall deny the being of Almighty God. (Article 6, Section 8)

South Carolina: No person who denies the existence of a Supreme Being shall hold any office under this Constitution. (Article 17, Section 4)

Tennessee: No person who denies the being of God, or a future state of rewards and punishments, shall hold any office in the civil department of this state. (Article 9, Section 2)

Texas: No religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office, or public trust, in this State; nor shall any one be excluded from holding office on account of his religious sentiments, provided he acknowledge the existence of a Supreme Being. (Article 1, Section 4)

You may have noticed that the Arkansas Constitution even prohibits the testimony of atheist witnesses in court! (Is more of this kind of theist exclusiveness what Governor Huckabee meant with his curious statement that the law of the land should be based on “God’s law”?) The barring of atheists from governmental posts (whether enforced or not) is based totally on protecting the dominance of religious belief. There are no other factors involved except perhaps the discredited belief that atheists are less trustworthy, a falsehood propagated by theists less interested in truth than in co-opting government power in support of their faith.

Sometimes the vaunted American exceptualism is merely shameful.

[Comments on, challenges to, or requests about this or any other posting can be sent to johnjustthinking@bmi.net.]

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