Showing posts with label Religion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Religion. Show all posts

Monday, June 07, 2010

Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson - a brief review

Well, I've been reading Marilynne Robinson's universally acclaimed Gilead, and at page 83 I've given up.

I cannot imagine what inspires critics to such paeans. If you believe that piety and quietism are the pre-eminent virtues, then perhaps it has something to recommend it, but I just found it a dull collection of inconsequential thoughts by a very ordinary person whose reminiscences do nothing whatsoever for me. Here the boldness and adventure of the great trek's to the American West collapse into the parochialism and thoughtless faith to which the physical harshness and the cultural smallness of the colonialist’s existence is inevitably prey.

Nothing is allowed to disturb its fearful religiosity. The son returning from Germany, armed with Feuerbach's brilliant, profound and sensitive atheism, is cast out. Every possibility of criticism or change, every attempt to hold their beliefs up to scrutiny, is rejected, and the resulting rigidity – which the author presents as timeless simplicity – creates a society inhabited by individuals (like the book’s protagonist) who are no doubt gentle and humane on the surface, but who, when threatened with anything they do not know, are likely to either be crushed (a tragedy for them) or turn their back (a tragedy for peace and democracy in 1914 and 1939) or lash out in the name of their vengeful Lord (a tragedy for the society about them, or at least for anyone who is not like them).

If I were looking for a simple explanation for why America scares me, this would be it.

Friday, January 15, 2010

The lovely Pat Robertson

Pat Robertson, reports today's Guardian, blames the Haiti earthquake on the people of Haiti themselves for making a pact with the devil to gain independence from France in 1804. You can see him saying so on Youtube.

From this we can infer that:

  1. Both Pat Robertson and God are opposed to countries freeing themselves from tyranny. Apparently it takes a pact with the devil to get you free. So who did the American Revolutionaries do a deal with, Pat? And does that mean that you (and God) believe that we Brits should have our American colonies back? Or perhaps that we Brits should hand ourselves (and the USA) back to the Romans? Or ...? (Opened a bit of a can of worms here, Pat.)
  2. Mr Robertson's God is a bit slow on the uptake. The Haitians sign a pact with the devil in 1804 and God punishes them in 2010? Oh all right, they've been ahveing two centuries of hard time, but that only makes the matter worse - not content with punishing the first Haitian revolutionaries, he punishes their children adn their children's children. I assume that Pat would welcome the imprisonment not only of criminals but also their children and their children's children, for century after century. Why do so few Christians seem to have any grasp of morality and responsibility?
  3. President Obama would be wrong to close Guantanamo - this is exactly where vicious lunatics like Pat Robertson belong. But perhaps the base itself could be moved across the strait to Haiti itself, so that this Man of God can be more directly in touch with the suffering people of Haiti - and vice versa, perhaps with a sign around his neck explaining his interesting theological position.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

More on atheism

A brief follow-up to my previous comments on the ‘Don’t worry, God probably doesn’t exist, so stop worrying and get on with life’ bus adverts and intelligent design.

An atheist isn’t just someone who does not think God exists. An atheist is someone who would not ‘believe in’ God even though they knew that he does exist. For to ‘believe in’ God entails a good deal more than simply acknowledging factual existence. It also requires (in its conventional gloss) that I worship my creator and obey his will without question.

I find this impossible to stomach – partly because it offends against the fact that I am – or so God tells me – a morally responsible being. If that is the case (and I like to think it is) then the mere fact that someone else tells me x or y is right does not make it so. There is no moral authority over a moral being other than their own moral judgement. I will – indeed, as a moral being, I must – make my own decision.

As for worshiping God – what on earth does that mean? To repeat the example used by William Paley about 170 years ago (and so beloved of theologians even now), if I found a pocket watch on the path, it would not take long to work out from its complexity that it had a designer. But even if this were true – and as the next 170 years of evolutionary thinking has demonstrated, it isn’t – I would not expect the watch to worship its creator. What a weird idea!

And even if it did, I would hardly say that God’s record to date suggests that he is worthy of such devotion. I have long thought that the Bible evidenced a severe lack of moral judgment on God's part. Of course, one has to sympathise with his predicament. It must be tough being divine in the face of modern technology. Imagine trying to manifest yourself over the phone, only to be put through to an answer machine. Imagine announcing the Second Coming by TV, only to have half the population video you instead and then record a soap opera over you without even bothering to watch.

But leaving such modern niceties aside, Creation doesn’t exactly reek of any deep concern for its inhabitants. At this very moment, a million children are crying with toothache. The state of the world, even on this small, quite non-cosmic level, would make Caligula blanch. If a camel is a horse designed by a committee, the Universe was surely designed by a committee of camels. (Actually, the conception of the universe as designed by a committee does solve one enduring theological conundrum - how the three persons of God could also be one.) Far from embodying divine wisdom, the universe is really the expression of perfect unwisdom, only made wise by humanity.

As for God himself, he exhibits the morality of the ultimate amoral bystander. How could he stand by and watch Auschwitz happen? Or as one eminent American critic of religious institutions has remarked:

Let’s get serious: God knows what he’s doing, he wrote this Book here, and
the Book says he made us all to be just like him. So if we’re dumb, then God is
dumb, and maybe even a little ugly on the side...

Chorus: Dumb all over... A little ugly on the side... Dumb all over...
(Frank Zappa)

It’s lucky that God no more has free will than the rest of us; heaven only knows what he might have got up to. Cataracts, indeed. Nor is he much more effective on the social and historical planes: any religion that has still only acquired a minority holding in humanity’s conscience after 2,000 years of sustained marketing by some of history's finest fanatics and delivers human happiness with the efficiency of the Plague is surely due for an overhaul.

All in all, there is no reason to worship God just because he is omnipotent, because he is our creator, etc. It may be Calvin’s opinion that one cannot help but worship one’s creator -

How can the idea of God enter your mind without instantly giving rise to the
thought that since you are his workmanship, you are bound, by the very law of
creation, to submit to his authority? (From his The Institutes of the Christian Religion.)

- but as i say, that is surely to deny our integrity as responsible beings. After all, that’s how God made us - if we were made in the 'image' of God, surely it was in his moral image. (Or if it was in his physical image, why was he so susceptible to in-growing toenails?) But in that case, we are as responsible for our acts as God is for his. What then is there to worship? By the same token, how can our sins be taken from us?

In summary: God does not exist, but even if he did, there would be no reason to ‘believe’ in Him. And even if he were worthy of belief, that would be no reason to worship him. I believe in democracy but I don’t worship it. And even if he were worthy of worship, there is no reason to think he is a Christian. After all, no one else is. Finally, even if He did exist, were a Christian and were worthy of belief and worship, then the entirety of human history cries out that he really is an Almighty Shit.

Thursday, March 05, 2009

Unfortunately Richard Dawkins barely exists either

A belated reaction to the splendid ‘Don’t worry, God probably doesn’t exist, so stop worrying and get on with life’ bus adverts going around London a while back. Excellent – I’m only sorry that there aren’t more.

How about ‘God was just Jesus’ imaginary friend’, or perhaps ‘God’s only excuse is that he doesn’t exist’ over a picture of a small child in Auschwitz? I’ve always wondered what excuse God will come up with over that one. If I had stood by and done nothing when I could have ended all that suffering in an instant, can you imagine what the world would have thought of me? So why think otherwise of God?

But despite the rightness of the sentiment, Richard Dawkins (who I believe a hand in these advertisements) is far from having a credible answer to the problem religion is trying to solve. His response to religion seems to be, in brief, that it is scientifically incorrect, and so should be disregarded. The first part is right enough, although I doubt that the Pope or the Archbishop of Canterbury would consider it much of a criticism. But I am sure that they would respond – equally correctly, I’m afraid - that religion isn’t about empirical truth anyway. And when they start getting onto what religion is about, their solutions may be completely fanciful but they are also solutions to perfectly real problems before which science (at least in the guise Dawkins favours) is as helpless as a baby.

Religion is about meaning – about what life means, about where we come from and where we are going to, about our relationship with one another, with ourselves, and with the world. The religious response to all these questions is God, which is where I, like Dawkins, get off. But they are all perfectly valid questions: without a sense that life has any meaning, not much is left but boredom, horror and ashes. Yet this is precisely what Dawkins is committed to. Not only is his general (very conventional) account of science absolutely incapable of posing, let alone answering, questions of meaning, but the specific theories to which he is committed – above all natural selection – is completely opposed to the idea that life has any meaning at all. In this he finds himself in good, if uncongenial company, for Stephen Jay Gould, who seems to have disagreed mightily with Dawkins about the very Darwinism to which they were jointly committed, once wrote a sad little book about the place of the individual in evolution, and could only conclude that individuals were empty, futile, accidental things.

In both Gould and Dawkins’ versions of Darwinism, there is no way out: not only does life have no intrinsic significance (true) but it is quite unthinkable that we should have the capacity to construct a meaningful reality (profoundly false). In their conventional forms, random variation and natural selection allow no space for meaning over and above being programmed to seek out and respond to things that enhance our reproductive fitness. Above that level there may be all manner of meaning-like things, but that is where they all lead. But if meaning is really just code for reproductive fitness (or making a lot of money, or any other contemporary cultural shibboleth) then it is resting on its own antithesis. Like existentialism and a dozen other philosophies, the only advice it can offer is to look the other way, and then die. Meaning is essential if the scientific view of life is not to be turned into a tragedy, but if the best we can hope for is Dawkins/Gould/Dennett’s narrow reading of Darwinism and scientistic undermining of meaning, the only possible outcome is the mutually assured destruction of science and happiness.

It is clear from their writings that not that either Dawkins or Gould is comfortable in this position. Who would be? This is their lives we are talking about too – according to their own theories, meaningless accidents. Yet when they try to get out of this bind – as when Dawkins appeals to our big brains to fight back against the worst excesses of our genes or Daniel Dennett (another member of this charmless circle) asserts that real freedom just ‘evolved’ because it was selectively advantageous that it should - they just sound stupid. Were they – and we – not so blinded by the authority of this rather trite interpretation of natural selection, we would all be shouting that the emperor has no clothes. Or rather, that he may be fully dressed, but he is not emperor.

And it is all so unnecessary. Natural selection is completely compatible with the idea that intelligent beings are capable of constructing a meaningful reality, and we don’t have to be constantly undermining ourselves by sneaking back and claiming that it’s all really about reproductive fitness after all. The crucial thing to understand is that, just as there are things that precede evolution and cannot be sensibly explained in such terms – the whole of physics and chemistry, for example – so there may be things that are every bit a material as bodies and genes and nervous systems, but which are also post-biological. That is, they rely entirely on the existence of a functional biological ‘platform’, but once that platform is assured, their interests are as far removed from those of life in general as life in general is from a chemical reaction. The differences are qualitative, fundamental, and include a huge range of novelties – consciousness, history, culture, technology, and so on.

This layer is intelligence. And I cannot emphasise too strongly that this is not simply as intelligence considered as just another faculty of the brain. Rather, the relationship between intelligence and life in general is much the same as that between life in general and chemistry or chemistry and physics – a radical reorganisation leading to both the resolution of key problems biology by itself finds insuperable and the introduction of new problems that our biology finds unintelligible.

The former includes the objectivity (as expressed in science, technology, industry, and the possibilities of radical environmental management) that allows intelligence to ‘see’ random variation and natural selection in a completely different (i.e., objective) light from any non-intelligent creature, and so to grasp its logic and the solutions it requires in ways that completely circumvent evolution itself. The second is this very problem of meaning, which spins form the very same source – the objectivity that tells us not only our place in evolution but also questions our place in the universe and in our own existences. Sometimes intelligence comes up with blindingly incorrect answers of which religion is only the longest running. But that does not mean that it cannot come up with something better. Darwinism, for example.

So if Richard Dawkins - and the late Stephen Jay Gould and all the other biologists – cannot even imagine this possibility, it is not because Darwinism precludes it (see my Birth of Reason) but because they are unable to grasp that Darwinism describes only one step, and by no means the last, in existence. And intelligence is the next.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Kicking and screaming, the C of E bursts into the seventeenth century

The Church of England and Episcopalians everywhere are currently lurching through the latest round of deciding whether or gay priests are an abomination. Given that their major discussion point is the Old Testament, which makes it perfectly clear what the right answer is, why is there any dispute?

Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination. [Leviticus 18:22]
I look forward to the conservatives winning their point and the evil perverts being thrown (sorry, cast) out. Then we move on to the still more fertile territory of restoring all the other fine beliefs that held by the OT - that the sun goes around the earth, that witches are real, that slavery and wars of extermination are OK, and I am entitled to kill my son if he persists in disobeying me. He has been warned.

As for Dr Laura, she is a credit to radio comedy and I think she should have a regular slot on Radio 4.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Intelligent Design – So what?

I remain as bemused as ever by Intelligent Design (ID). My problem with it is not in sifting through the empirical pros and cons but in understanding why anyone would offer such extraordinarily weak arguments for what they surely regard as an extraordinarily important issue.

To start with, I am not an atheist. I don't have enough religious feeling to qualify as an atheist. I don't believe in god in the same sense that I don't believe in fairies, but no one would call me an 'adaemonist'.

Yet I don’t find ID completely nonsensical. In fact many years ago it suddenly occurred to me that the universe is not the finished product, but only a succession of prototypes, with each successive tick of the cosmic clock adding a new version, each improving slightly on its predecessor. The final design, which would show the universe in its ultimate, perfect form, will emerge only at the end of time. The universe isn’t the design, it’s the designing.

It gave me quite a shiver. Such a model would explain the somewhat unsatisfactory nature of the universe as we human beings currently experience it, for example. Satisfyingly Hegelian too, which suited my temper in those days. However, almost immediately I realised that it didn’t really help, because there was no way to telling the difference between this and what nature seems to be doing under its own steam.

Unfortunately, ID doesn’t strike me as being half as plausible as my personal fantasy. In fact I could not initially think of any reason even to consider it as an alternative. But just to jump-start the argument, I have tried to identify a sequence of assumptions that would make it more plausible.

Firstly, let me assume there are certain key problems science really is unable to solve, such as the origin of the universe, the origin of life and the origin of consciousness. I know no reason at all to believe that science can't solve these problems (though in the case of consciousness I am quite certain that contemporary science is going about it the wrong way), but without this assumption there doesn’t seem to be very much reason to turn to any non-scientific alternative.

Secondly, let me go beyond my first assumption and assume that we can prove that science can't solve these problems. This is a much stronger assumption, since it puts explicit limits on the powers of our single most powerful mode of explanation even in areas to which it seems proper to apply it. This assumption makes a mockery of science’s performance to date - how often has someone (often an eminent scientist) pronounced the limits of science, only for them to be rolled back yet again within a few years? - but it seems essential to the ID case. Certainly ID's own arguments for limiting science’s domain make little sense. But again just to get the ball rolling, I will make this assumption too.

So what follows from science being inherently unable to solve these central problems? That ID is correct? That ID is at least worth considering? No. Nothing follows from this. One might just as reasonably infer (as scientists and philosophers often do) that there are simply inherent limits to our ability to grasp the universe – that we are victims of ‘cognitive closure’.

Again I disagree with both the idea of cognitive closure and the usual grounds for asserting it, which is that there is no reason for evolution to have bestowed on us the ability to understand everything, so it didn’t. I think this argument is both logically fallacious, based on factually incorrect premises and fundamentally misunderstands the origins and nature of intelligence, but as an explanaiton for any limits to science it is at least as good an alternative as Intelligent Design.

Better, in fact. After all, neither pragmatic nor inherent limits to science make any other alternative explanation any more likely than before. As a positive explanation of the kind, both science and ID offer must stand on its own merits. Neither is made one jot more credible by the failure of other explanations. Given the possibility of cognitive closure, ID would not even be justified by the demonstrable failure of every possible alternative.

But let’s assume that the failure of science does imply that ID is correct. At this point in the argument, most proponents of Intelligent Design seem pretty keen (at the moment) to deny that they are using this idea to smuggle the concept of God into the argument (or, more precisely, into science lessons in schools), so let’s see if we can help them.

OK, so we assume that there must be an Intelligent Designer. Does that mean that this designer is God? No. It only suggests that it he/she is a designer. Even sticking within the limits of conventional Western thought, this entity could just as easily be thought of as a sort of cosmic engineer, for even an entity that is capable of operating on a literally universal scale isn’t necessarily divine. In his sci-fi novel Contact, Carl Sagan included a nice detail – that if you worked out the value of pi to millions and millions of places, you would eventually arrive at a string of 1’s and 0’s that, if printed out out in a rectangular matrix, displayed a perfect circle. Thus proving that the universe was indeed designed, and even that the designer could tinker with the laws of mathematics, which is a lot more profound than merely fixing the laws of physics. But it says nothing about the divine status of the universe's maker. Certainly not that they are Our Maker.

But how about if we concede that our cosmic engineer is indeed divine? What does that get us? From the point of view of the usual ID enthusiast, not much. Let's leave aside the problem of knowing the nature of an entity that inhabits a universe within which the whole of our universe is only a detail, and whose nature is, purely by virtue of its divinity, unknowable in any meaningful sense. Assuming we could penetrate such mysteries, which God is it? I’m damned if I know. As it were. It certainly does not follow from anything about the concept of divinity (especially not a deity of whose existence we know solely through their creation of the universe) that he, she or it is Christian, Jewish or of any other denomination, why they created the universe or what it all means. For all we know, it was Spargliqot, the Niddli God of Alpha Centauri, who did it for a lark.

On the other hand, unless you want to treat the whole of Genesis as a metaphor (and therefore just another inadequate pointer to the nature of our Intelligent Designer), I can’t for the life of me see how any of this process connects to the process of Creation described in the Old Testament.

So where does that leave Intelligent Design? Nowhere. It is a complete non sequitur, not only with regard to any alleged shortcomings of science but also (at least as far as the apologists of any particular religion are concerned) at every other step along the way. In fact it seems to me that the only way to validate the theory of Intelligent Design is by assuming that it is true!

So why do fundamentalists bother? Because they are making the same mistake that Christians have made ever since Copernicus, which is the desire to have it both ways. They want to believe in a deity of such unimaginable nature, character and intentions that they would be able to create the universe, but they want to justify their belief in their unimaginable deity by imagining them anyway.

For a religion that is supposedly based on faith, it's an odd way to go about things.

God among the chimpanzees

A thought for all those fundamentalists who can't bear the idea that their Imaginary Friend could have created a world that evolved: what are they to make of the now overpowering evidence of intelligence in non-human species?

The scientific evidence is straightforward: a wide variety of non-human species can use language, make tools, recognise themselves in a mirror, refer to themselves, or even make jokes. These species include chimpanzees, bonobos, gorillas, orang utans, bottlenose dolphins, African grey parrots, elephants and assorted crows, ravens and other corvids. And we have only just started looking seriously.

So what can we say? That God has given them all souls too - and presumably their own covenant and messiah? Or that he has created creatures that have consciousness and self-consciousness, yet which He has doomed to oblivion and death, without hope of redemption or eternal life? Oops...

Of course, this is just as big a conundrum for evolutionary theory, or at least its more narrow-mindedly Darwinian variants. It looks rather like the intelligence manifested by human beings, dolphins, birds and other primates not only does the same job but it actually of just the same kind - homologous, as evolutionists say. According to conventional Darwinism, such a structural homology can only realistically have occurred if all these species share a common ancestor that also had this intelligence.

Unfortunately, we have not shared a common ancestor with dolphins for 90 million years or with parrots for more than 300 million. And whatever thoseancestors were, they certainly were not intelligent.

There is a Darwinian solution, of course. See my Birth of Reason. I am also currently trying to get a couple of essays out on this topic, though it is proving hard to get them published.

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Snake and ladders out of the Garden of Eden

I grew up in the English Home Counties, that bastion of middle class politeness and rectitude. Despite this, and despite going to a good grammar school and receiving the usual lessons in religious studies, I never managed to work out exactly what it was that was supposed to make the Bible – or religion generally – so important.

A lot of the problem seemed to me to be that these were very ordinary tales that someone thought were desperately significant, but I really could not see it. For example, if there’s one person who seems to get a rough deal in the Old Testament, it’s surely the snake in the Garden of Eden. What is his crime? To teach Adam and Eve the difference between right and wrong. What were they before that point? A pair of complete moral non-entities who just did as they were told. Only obeying orders, perhaps. And giving them knowledge of right and wrong was a crime?

And what is God’s reaction to this first ever act of moral enlightenment? To punish the messenger.

“And the Lord God said unto the serpent, Because thou hast done this, thou art cursed above all cattle, and above every beast of the field; upon thy belly shalt thou go, and dust shalt thou eat all the days of thy life..." (Genesis 3:14)

In other words, one individual performs an act the local boss disapproves and not only are they punished vilely but so are all their descendants for all eternity. Well that seems fair.

I don’t know about you, but all this seems to tell me is that the very first moral tale in the entire Bible – a book that is supposed to be the basis for Christian moral life - is to punish the one individual who makes moral life possible. And this happens not because of God’s love for humanity but despite it.

On the other hand, what happens to human beings for becoming moral agents? They are expelled from Eden. But if remaining as moral non-entities was the price of staying, was this expulsion from Eden – or rising above it?

So let’s hear it for the snake – the only person ever to enter the Garden of Eden with honest intentions.

Friday, April 27, 2007

How doth the little crocodile

One detail of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland I have always liked is Carroll’s poem, ‘How doth the little crocodile’:

‘How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!

‘How cheerfully he seems to grin,
How neatly spreads his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in,
With gently smiling jaws!’

Carroll was parodying a typical Victorian homily entitled ‘Against Idleness and Mischief’, written by the English theologian Isaac Watts:

‘How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower!’

And so on for three more sickly verses.

Last night my daughter Beany, a voracious reader, mentioned that one of the characters in R.C. Sherriff’s play Journey’s End recites Carroll’s poem. If you have not seen it, Journey’s End is a play about life in the trenches in World War One. I do not know what Sherriff meant by inserting this detail, but a contemporary resonance struck me straight away.

The war in Iraq – as previously in Vietnam, Aden, Cyprus and a hundred post-colonial wars – has always been accompanied by shrill nonsense about defending this or that value or principle. Like Vietnam, Iraq is meant to be a ‘shining hour’ for freedom and democracy. But once more such ideals are being dragged in the dust by ignoble individuals like the US and British leaderships, and it is impossible to imagine that the cause of liberty will be advanced one inch by this awful disaster. On the contrary, the very idea of democracy has already been debased so far that in Arab discourse 'damakrata' translates as the forced imposition of western ideas.

But what should one expect when the West is led by arrogant and self-serving fools like Bush, Cheney, Blair and Rumsfeld, who imagine that abstractions like ‘freedom’ have any meaning at all in a country we spent a decade blockading and bombing, causing perhaps a million deaths, all in the name of these self-same ‘principles’. What were they expecting? To be welcomed with open arms? Their own experts had told them that they would be anything but welcome. But Blair’s abstractions told him better, and as the Americans managed to demonstrate almost immediately, the only thing they would do with any efficiency was sell the country’s assets to American corporations.

And the military? Having been promised that they would be welcome with open arms, they find that the peaceful cultivation of the beehive they were promised by our ‘leaders’ has turned into fighting with crocodiles. We have so obviously lost that we should get out immediately. Western governments and armies cannot save Iraq from the disaster they have created – they are the disaster. To persist out of sheer arrogance and fear of failure is to condemn tens of thousands more Iraqis, and many soldiers too, to pointless suffering and death.

After World War One they put up statues to Field Marshal Haig, Prime Minister Lloyd George and all the rest, whereas they should have hanged the lot of them. Meanwhile, shortly after the character in Journey’s End recites ‘How doth the little crocodile’, he is killed in a raid. Is that going to be the outcome in Iraq too – until, we finally admit that, in our arrogance and idealism, we are the problem, not the solution?

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Identity and equality: an impossible choice?

Increasingly much of many western countries’ domestic policy seems to be absorbed in reconciling the relationship between a unified nation state and minorities of various kinds, especially where the minority in question imports a different set of social and cultural practices and values. That is, after all, why the large black and Asian populations within the UK stand in such different relationships to the wider population: while groups of West Indian and (to a lesser extent) African origin share a good deal of the pre-existing British culture, the Islamic and Hindu groups from the Indian sub-continent and east Africa not only bring quite different religions and cultures but also social institutions such as banks and commercial networks that made it quite unnecessary to participate in a great deal of the host society.

The latter point is crucial. Anyone with the least knowledge of, say, West Indian family structure recognises that it resembles conventional British systems very little. However, whatever the implications of this fact, they can at least expect to be lived and acted out within the context of British society as a whole, and any conflict between the two sides is likely to find both expression and (eventually) resolution. But where more strongly organised groups enter (and that may be by migration or internal development, of course), part of their organisation will consist of mechanisms for isolating the sub-culture from the indigenous culture and often for actively resisting any such accommodation. Furthermore, this is likely to be especially strong once the in-coming group recognises that its initial aspirations are unlikely to be met and the host society declines to treat them decently.

The crucial problem this creates for the ‘host’ societies (I must admit, I am unhappy about all this terminology of ‘indigenous’, ‘sub-culture’, ‘hosts’, ‘migrants’, and so on) seems to be to create a way of managing societies in such a way that everyone can express their own cultural identity, yet co-exist on equal terms within a single framework for society as a whole. This is the classic problem of ‘civil society’.

This in turn generates two problems for would-be policy-makers. Firstly, if you don’t clearly separate identity from equality, you will almost guarantee conflict. Secondly, if you do manage to separate them from one another, you will find that they are irreconcilable.

If you don’t clearly separate identity from equality, you will almost guarantee conflict. Everyone involved in policy-making, implementation and enforcement is a member of a particular culture. My impression is that, by and large, politicians, judges, policemen, civil servants, social workers, teachers, editors, journalists, media magnates and other mediators of social relationships are overwhelmingly members of the same culture, and, I am afraid, pretty unreflective about values, be it their own or others’. So even where they are keen to avoid imposing any particular identity, I can’t see how they will avoid imposing their own. Imagine that in a country whose largest-selling newspapers are the Daily Mail and the Sun…

But even if you do manage to create systems that allow you to distinguish between identity and equality in principle, you will soon find that they are irreconcilable. For as far as I am aware, no major culture of any substance limits its prescriptions to what its own members should do. All define either what all people should do, and so find (literal or metaphorical) non-believers culpable in their non-belief, or define their members as inherently superior to non-members, or at least define an asymmetric relationship between members and non-members. In other words, whatever exponents of civil society may think, the notion of identity simply cannot be extricated from that of equality or from any of the major structures and processes of a contemporary nation state.

For example, Christian and Islamic fundamentalists share the belief that law has already been ordained by God, and that the only role of legal establishments is to interpret and implement that law. Whether the source is Leviticus or the Koran, it is wholly inappropriate for human beings to be inventing laws by themselves, other than within the very narrow bounds set by revelation. So that’s democracy dead, then. In many cases, membership of the approved sub-culture is regarded as prerequisite to membership of the decision-making process. George Bush Snr once remarked that ‘I don't know that atheists should be considered as citizens, nor should they be considered patriots . This is one nation under God’ [here]. He apparently wasn’t keen to go much further, but it’s an illuminating statement. Not too far from that to disenfranchising anyone the state deems an unbeliever. So that's equality before the law out the window too.

I have no idea what the answer to this conundrum is. I suspect that there isn’t one, or rather that the solution will emerge in the usual dialectical (and potentially violent) manner. But in such a situation, surely the last thing you should do is make any attempt to solve the first problem in any formal manner. As soon as you do, one of two things will happen: either you will find yourself imposing one particular identity or you will make the second problem absolutely unavoidable.

In the former case you may well have persuaded yourself that certain key values can be legitimately generalised, because ‘surely’ everyone (‘every right-thinking individual’?) would subscribe to such values, but that would be fatal. But what are these true universals? A belief in democracy? Individual rights? Respect for the right of others to practice their beliefs in peace? But which of these is compatible with fundamentalism of any kind – Christian, Islamic, Jewish, Hindu – or even secular?

On the other hand, the people who are taking it upon themselves to solve it are perhaps the least qualified to do so: politicians like Tony Blair whose sensibilities are limited to an extraordinarily narrow (and rigidly a priori) conception of how the world should work. If you are waiting for a solution, don’t hold your breath…

Friday, March 30, 2007

Personal beliefs and democratic representation

I see that part of Tony Blair’s recent charm offensive (was there ever a more appropriate phrase?) with Ian Paisley was a regular exchange of religious books and thoughts. Given the explicitly religious basis of Paisley’s politics, then from his point of view this is understandable. But in Blair’s case, one must ask oneself what influence his religious beliefs have over his own actions and decisions. If he was simply adapting to Paisley’s preferred language, then so be it.

If, however, he was allowing his private religious beliefs (which he has never been willing to explain in public) to interfere with his political judgement, then I can barely express how enraged I am at the idea that political power in this country is in any way under the control of individuals whose true beliefs are not open to explicit democratic scrutiny.

Like any other closet belief, this is quite unacceptable in the leadership of a democratic society. How can I possibly anticipate the kinds of decision they might make, and so decide whether I can trust them with political power? Although both freedom and privacy of belief is fundamental in a free society, this does not extent to those who seek office. How would he feel about discovering that a member of his Cabinet was a closet communist or Nazi? It is not that I would dream of equating most religious belief with totalitarianism, but from the point of view of the non-religious, basing political decision-making on a religious basis is simply irrational, which is pretty much the next best thing.

Monday, February 19, 2007

A little militant atheism wouldn't come amiss

My wife tells me that this one is going to get me a fatwa from the Archbishop of Canterbury, but here goes anyway.

Religion is absurdly privileged in our society. Just the other day the Catholic primate of England (the Archbishop of Westminster, Cardinal Cormac Murphy-O’Connor) claimed that Catholic adoption agencies should be exempted from a law requiring agencies to consider gay couples as adoptive parents. The reason he gave was that “The rights of conscience cannot be made subject to legislation, however well-meaning”. This was promptly supported by the primates of the church of England.

Of course, they did not really mean it. Or rather, they did not mean that the rights of conscience in general cannot be made subject to legislation. After all, there are plenty of positions held most conscientiously by other members of society that I suspect that the leaders of the Christian church would indeed want to have subjected to legislation. Or do the leaders of the Catholic and Anglican churches think that the beliefs of Nazis, racists and others, which are just as sincerely and conscientiously held as their own, should also be given free rein? How about a Nazi adoption agency that refused to allow Jews or blacks to adopt white children?

In fact what they really meant was that religious beliefs should be privileged. Why this should be so apparently goes without saying. But what special merit is there in religious belief? I cannot think of any, though I can think of many reasons for being deeply suspicious of any belief that announces that it is the will of God.

One of the sillier expressions of pro-religious prejudice is the widespread view that religion is the only basis for morality. The opposite is closer to the truth: morality based on (revealed) religion is quite amoral, as it seems to consist of accepting someone else’s morality (i.e., God’s) regardless of whether one actually believes it oneself.

It would be reassuring if all religious people who came up with the morally repulsive notion that we should obey the will of God merely because it is the will of God really meant that one should analyse what we (supposedly) know of that will and its moral implications, decide whether it did indeed provide a valid moral framework, and only if it did, then adopt it as our own. But then it would be our will, not that of God, and if (as becomes evident when comparing the Old and New Testaments) God changes his mind, we would persist with our own beliefs until shown that they were wrong.

But what do we actually get? A series of beliefs of no obvious moral merit, including some fantastically vicious and bloody threats in the Old Testament. Most of it reminds me of Dr Johnson’s famous (but apparently apocryphal) book review – ‘Your manuscript is both good and original. But the part that is good is not original, and the part that is original is not good’. Insofar as it is morally acceptable (or even intelligible), it could have been dreamed up by pretty much anyone, and to the extent that it is not, then it is not, and should be ignored or even actively resisted.

And that is the point. There is no reason society as a whole should privilege a system of ideas whose starting pont is outside the universe, and indeed outside all possible knowledge and experience, and then presumes to pronounce on the world at large, even when it is completely ignorant about most of it. There are plenty of ways of responding to people who think like that. One of the most effective is to increase their dose.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Only obeying orders

I wish someone would explain to me the moral difference between ‘I was obeying the will of God’ and ‘I was only obeying orders’.

Let me start by assuming that those who favour the view that the world and human beings were created by a divine force are right. Let me also assume that a defining quality of human beings is our capacity for moral responsibility. A cat can slaughter a rat but it is not an immoral action. It would not even be an immoral action if it slaughtered another cat, or a human being. A human being, by contrast, must consider the moral dimension of all its actions, no matter how trivial, because every action potentially has a moral aspect, and we are morally responsible.

One thing we have discovered in the last half-century (starting with the Nuremburg trials of 1946) is that I cannot absolve myself of my moral responsibilities by simply claiming that I was ordered to do this or that by a higher authority. It is still my action, and the only moral effect of my having been ordered to carry it out by someone else is that they are implicated in it too. But their responsibility in no way lessens my own. This is not a zero-sum game in which the more responsibility they have the less I can be blamed.

And that is, as far as I can see, part of the religious message, at least as far as the ‘revealed’ religions of Christianity, Islam and Judaism are concerned. Obeying God is justification enough, and disobeying God inherently wicked.

But why should I obey the will of God? Or rather, why should I obey it unless I also agree with it? Conversely, if I do not agree with it, am I not a hypocrite? It doesn’t make any difference that it is the will of God – I am still responsible for my own actions, regardless of who put me up to them. How is this different from ‘only obeying orders’?

Indeed, in what sense is obeying the will of God a moral stance of any kind? How can I just follow anyone’s orders without being guilty of abdicating my responsibility to evaluate their merits? But abdication is simply amoral. In fact I’m not sure it’s even that!

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Opium of the people

Some time ago the listeners of one of BBC Radio 4’s flagship intellectual programmes, In Our Time, voted Karl Marx, by an ‘electoral tidal wave’, the greatest philosopher of all time.

Speaking as an unreconstructed leftie, it was an extremely satisfying moment. Right there in their greatest bastion, Britain’s middle classes were voting for the very nemesis of their world. Plainly they either don’t understand what Marx actually said or they are none too happy about the world they live in. A bit of both, I suspect.

It was especially pleasing to hear the programme’s presenter, Melvyn Bragg, stutter and sway as he tried to come to terms with this appalling denouement to his pet project. But he failed. All through the special programme on Marx that followed he seemed to be unable to come to terms with – or even allow much discussion of – the idea that Marx might still be so utterly relevant to his audience’s lives. As one of the great symbols of Tony Blair’s far more appalling New Labour project, in which even England’s peculiarly pale and uninteresting excuse for a socialist political party has finally been put to sleep, it was a pleasure to hear Melvyn Bragg so far out of his comfort zone - not to mention his intellectual depth.

But this enthusiasm for Marx was by no means a flash in the pan. I can’t cite any evidence, but I distinctly recall hearing a year or so back that the most popular courses at London University were on Marx and Marxism. More budding In Our Time listeners in the pipeline, no doubt. Watch out, Melvyn.

But what exactly is it they are looking for right now? Indeed, what does the average member of England’s middle classes know about Karl Marx that they would vote for him? What does the average student know about him that would actually drive them into the lecture theatres?

Having done my bachelor’s degree (1976-1979) in psychology and sociology, Marx was an unavoidable item on the agenda. But as this was the 70’s and I had had the good sense to be 16 in 1968, I already knew a little about him. And of course he was regarded as an entirely contemporary thinker, though usually for all the wrong reasons. Most of the Marxists I knew had vaguely pro-Soviet leanings. I even knew one couple who were outright Stalinists, and spoke in that strange mechanical lingo of ‘dialectical materialism’ that is so unlike Marx himself. He could be a pig to read, but there are whole chapters of Capital that read like magical incantations: an immanent power flows through them like a terrible force. You read them and your skin tingles and your heart leaps. Really.

But only a tiny fraction of Karl Marx’s immense outpourings on history, capitalism, calculus, the Tsarist Secret Service and so on has entered into popular consciousness. Given the man’s impact on the world, this is hard to explain. Perhaps it is the often extreme tedium of his literary style - Volume II of Capital is excruciating - or perhaps it is the fact that, in many circles, quoting Marx has about the same respectability as quoting the Devil. At the very least you find yourself being looked at as though you’ve just made a joke in very poor taste.

However, Marx had many moments of sheer literary genius, so it is inevitable that some small nuggets should have crept into everyday rhetoric. Unfortunately, most of these prove to be fools’ gold, at least for would-be Marxologists, being either unoriginal to Marx or fundamentally misunderstood. In fact it is hard to identify any one remark with any one writer, given that the era all but breathed revolutionary rhetoric. Marx himself attributed ‘The dictatorship of the proletariat’ to August Blanqui (1805-1881), ‘workers of the world, unite!’ is a thoroughly un-Marxist translation of Marx's actual words, and ‘From each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs’ is very likely borrowed from the anarchist Michael Bakunin (1814-1876). Finally, ‘The workers have nothing to lose... but their chains’ was probably original, but co-authored with Engels (altogether more readable than Marx, though intellectually much less brilliant). It is also from the Communist Manifesto, which is probably the worst piece of Marxism Marx ever wrote, so Karl might have been grateful if history had consigned it to ‘the gnawing criticism of the mice’, as he did the much better German Ideology.

Still, it is especially ironic that ‘religion is the opium of the people’ is so well known, since it always seems to have been understood in a sense which is almost the opposite of Marx’s original intentions. But then I suppose a dialectician must expect his best phrases to be turned on their heads. Nowadays it is taken as a straightforward denunciation of religion, whereas Marx was surely trying to express the equivocal relationship between religion and human existence. To put this famous remark back into context:

Religious suffering is at one and the same time the expression of real suffering and a protest against real suffering. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people. The abolition of religion as the illusory happiness of the people is the demand for their real happiness. To call them to give up their illusions about their condition is call on them to give up a condition that requires illusions. The criticism of religion is therefore in embryo the criticism of that vale of tears of which religion is the halo. (From the Introduction to A Contribution to the Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right.)

This brilliant, terse, pungent summary of the materialist view of religion is typical of Marx at his best. The method it uses is also typical of Marxism in its mature form: a revelation of the dynamism of history and consciousness, sweeping up everything in its path, both driven and undermined by the inexhaustible tension between moral consolation and political action. Writing like this, Marx has a startling way of showing that fireworks and analysis can go hand in hand. Which only makes it all the greater shame that, at his worst, Marx is stunningly dull and obscure. However, in this case it is clear that the object of Marx’s criticisms is not religion as such. For him religion was mainly a symptom of underlying structures and processes that produced the things he really did abhor - oppression, ignorance, fear, alienation. He sympathises with the underlying need, even if he does deplores the way religion fulfils it.

Perhaps it is just as well that Marxism can only be comprehended by going beyond the rhetoric and into serious research. Perhaps this shields it from the toy Marxism of so much modern day revolutionism, which takes the title of socialist even while depriving socialism of all humanity. In fact, along with ‘democracy’ and 'nationalism', ‘socialism’ spent most of the 20th century as little but a substitute for ‘true religion’ as the indispensable rhetorical device of Western politics. Where a century or two ago the crucial justification of revolution (or reaction) was that it would refurbish the faith to its ancient purity, today it promises the rule of the people in some form. What then does it matter that Marx is misquoted, any more than that the Sermon on the Mount is subverted by hypocritical churches? It's not as though the people who misquote him would be any more likely to institute a socialist society if they got the words right.

What did I personally find in Marx? A while ago an old friend of mine asked me whether spending two decades in business had altered my assessment of Marx. Yes, I said, it had. I am now even more convinced he was right than ever. What I found in Marx is the greatest and most fearless theorist of human freedom of all time. No, Melvyn, not the greatest philosopher of all time (at least among Westerners, I think that one goes to Hegel), because philosophers sit in university libraries and think deep thoughts. Marx did all that and then took it out of the library (the British Library in his case) and into working class politics, newspapers and dozens of great political tracts.

That’s what I want to do when I grow up.

Sunday, January 21, 2007

A judgment of Solomon

Where better to begin a study of proverbial wisdom than with the man who seemingly had it all? Here's the text (from 1 Kings iii, 16-28):

Then came there two women... unto the king... And the one woman said, O my lord, I and this woman dwell in one house; and I was delivered of a child with her in the house. And it came to pass the third day after that I was delivered, that this woman was delivered also... And this woman's child died in the night; because she overlaid it. And she arose at midnight, and took my son from beside me ...and laid it in her bosom, and laid her dead child in my bosom. And when I rose in the morning to give my child suck, behold, it was dead: but when I had considered it in the morning, behold, it was not my son, which I did bear.

And the other woman said, Nay; but the living is my son, and the dead is thy son. And this said, No; but the dead is thy son, and, the living is my son...

Then said the king, ...Bring me a sword... Divide the living child in two, and give half to the one, and half to the other.

Then spake the woman whose the living child was, O my lord, give her the living child, and in no wise slay it. But the other said, Let it be neither mine nor thine, but divide it.

Then the king ... said, Give her the living child, ... she is the mother thereof.

And all Israel heard of the judgment which the king had judged; and they feared the king: for they saw that the wisdom of God was in him, to do judgment."

You can't help feeling that Solomon would have cut an unforgettable figure as a social worker. Had the women between whom he judged expressed their love of their child in any way but as His Majesty’s view of mother-love dictated, the child would have been chopped in two. But of course that is precisely what proves Solomon’s wisdom - the fact that he was right. However, if that is the case, I can only hope that he was not so much wise as infallible.

Monday, January 15, 2007

Suffering fools gladly

Of course, the norm is not to suffer fools gladly. It is even the subject of boasts and admiration - we often have at least a sneaking regard for those who do not suffer fools gladly. After all, fools are fools. However, the Bible, where the phrase originated, looked at it quite differently:

For ye suffer fools gladly, seeing you yourselves are wise. (Second Epistle of Paul to the Corinthians, xi, 19)

Perhaps Paul was being ironic, although humour was never his strong suit. Of course, folly is not always what it appears. When the Earl of Rochester proposed the following (premature) epitaph for Charles II:
Here lies a great and mighty king,
Whose promise none relies on;
He never said a foolish thing,
Nor ever did a wise one
His Majesty replied,
This is very true, for my words are my own and my actions are my ministers

But there are still more telling reasons for seeming folly. Zen masters’ method with madness in it. It appears foolish because it is we who are too sophisticated - or rather, too primitive - to appreciate its utter logic.

Altogether more dangerous is method with madness in it - economic apologetics, scientism, etc.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Judas

It is hard to be too disgusted with the idea of a Judas.

But surely even Judas is not beyond forgiveness? Indeed, forgiving Judas is surely one of the great tasks every Christian faces. Not because, without his betrayal, Christianity would never have begun. That is merely a historical nicety. Far more than that, Judas’ betrayal both is the essence of sin and highlights the essentially desolate nature of sin. After all, what does Judas do once he has committed his act of betrayal? He hangs himself. Where better then to bring a philosophy of forgiveness it its historical archetype and logical conclusion?

Has the entire role of Jesus of Nazareth been misunderstood? If I may borrow a conundrum originating with Jorge Luis Borges, who is the real Son of God (Three Versions of Judas, in Labyrinths, Penguin Books, 1970)?

But the real problem for Christianity is not to forgive Judas but to forgive God. Who has betrayed humanity more completely than God?

More generally, I have long thought that the Bible was lacking in moral judgment. Of course, one has to sympathise with God’s predicament. It must be especially tough being divine in the face of modern technology. Imagine trying to manifest yourself over the phone, only to be put through to an answer machine. Imagine announcing the Second Coming by TV, only to have half the population video you instead and then record a soap opera over you without even bothering to watch.

Nor does Creation exactly reek of any deep concern with its inhabitants. At this very moment, a million children are crying with tooth ache. The state of the world, even on this small, quite non-cosmic level, would make Caligula blanch. If a camel is a horse designed by a committee, the Universe was surely designed by a committee of camels. (Actually, the idea of the universe as designed by a committee does solve one enduring theological conundrum - how the three persons of God can have a single substance.) Far from embodying divine wisdom, the universe is really the expression of perfect unwisdom, only made wise by humanity.

So now that he has built the universe, what does God do to fix the bugs. Not a lot. Even for those who believe in miracles, it’s hard to be impressed by the rate at which the problems are repaired, and like any badly repaired machine, it’s quite normal for the repairs to create new bugs.

But then it’s hard to think of any case where God has even tried. He reminds me the dreadful murder of Kitty Genovese. She was the victim of a vicious attack in New York in 1964, during which, although she was assaulted repeatedly over a period of half an hour, at least a dozen people who heard or saw parts of the murder failed to report it to the police. The Genovese case has become the paradigm of ‘bystander behaviour’.

But as with everything else, God has to go one up on mere mortals. God is the ultimate bystander. God never gets involved. If we can ignore the murder of a woman on a cold and ugly night, he can ignore the murder of millions. It was God who ignored the slaughter of children in Auschwitz. It is God who allows children to starve all around the world. Yes, I know, human beings did these things, but if I had had the power to undo Auschwitz with absolutely no effort or risk and did not do it, what would the world have thought of me? Well, that’s exactly what the world should think of God.

Next to forgiving God, forgiving Judas is a push over. And of course, if we are in God’s image, one can just as well reverse the relationship: he is in ours. As Voltaire put it,

If God created us in His image, we have more than reciprocated.

Or as an eminent American critic of religious institutions suggested:

Let’s get serious: God knows what he’s doing, he wrote this Book here, and the Book says he made us all to be just like him. So if we’re dumb, then God is dumb, and maybe even a little ugly on the side...

Chorus: Dumb all over... A little ugly on the side... Dumb all over...

(Frank Zappa, Dumb All Over, from the album, You Are What You Is)


It’s lucky that God no more has free will than the rest of us; heaven only knows what he might have got up to. Cataracts, indeed. Nor is he much more effective on the social and historical planes: any religion which has still only acquired a minority holding in humanity’s conscience after 2,000 years of sustained marketing by some of history's finest fanatics and delivers human happiness with the efficiency of the Plague is surely due for an overhaul.

There is no reason to worship God just because He is omnipotent, because He is our creator, etc. It may be Calvin’s opinion that one cannot help but worship one’s creator -

How can the idea of God enter your mind without instantly giving rise to the
thought that since you are his workmanship, you are bound, by the very law of
creation, to submit to his authority? (The Institutes of the Christian Religion, I, p. 41, transl. H. Beveridge, 1949)
- but that is surely to deny our integrity as responsible beings. After all, that’s how God made us - if we were made in the image of God, surely it was in his moral image. (Or if it was in his physical image, did He have acne when He was a teenager like me?) But in that case, we are as responsible for our acts as God is for his. What then is there to worship? By the same token, how can our sins be taken from us? On the other hand, is God as morally responsible as [?]

God does not exist, but even if he did, there would be no reason to ‘believe’ in Him. And even if he were worthy of belief, that would be no reason to worship him. I believe in democracy but I don’t worship it. And even if he were worthy of worship, there is no reason to think he is a Christian. After all, no one else is. Finally, even if He did exist, were a Christian and were worthy of belief and worship, then the entirety of human history cries out that he really is an Almighty Shit.