Showing posts with label atheism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label atheism. Show all posts

Saturday, 17 July 2010

EastEnders: anti-Atheist bias

An e-mail I received this morning has drawn my attention to complaints of an ‘anti-Christian’ bias in the BBC ‘soap’ EastEnders.
My reaction, as someone who remembers when this long-running drama first reached our screens is, “You’ve got to be kidding!”
If there is any ‘religious’ bias in EastEnders, it is clearly directed almost entirely against atheists and agnostics.
Anyone watching the programme would realize it is meant to portray the lives of the ordinary unbelieving and half-believing folk of inner London. Yet even allowing for dramatic license, what we see is a deeply unattractive presentation of these people’s lives.
Almost no-one is every nice to anyone. Nobody smiles. Everybody seems to hate somebody. Their lives are a litany (if that is the right word) of destructive behaviours, punctuated by adultery, unfaithfulness and even murder.
It is almost as if the writers are saying, “This is how people behave when there’s nothing to live for and no moral anchor to prevent such outrageous actions.”
As such, this surely is a caricature of the ‘unbelieving’ life — and it has to be said, this is not least because no-one ever just sits in front of the telly watching EastEnders.
John Richardson
17 July 2010
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Thursday, 10 June 2010

Should atheists have children?

Some time ago, I had what I thought was a great plot for a science-fiction novel, only for it to turn up in Terminator 3. Today, I am feeling equally miffed in that the Australian philosopher Peter Singer has pre-empted me on a blog post in which I was planning to ask, “Why should atheists have children?”
The lead to Singer’s article came from the Anglican Mainstream site, which points to a comment on Singer’s post, which can itself be found on the New York Times blog site. It is the last of these which you should really read.
Singer is a truly radical thinker, with (as I argued in my debate with Richard Norman on whether we can be good without God) a much better grasp of the philosophical implications of atheism than someone like Richard Dawkins. To some people he is known as an advocate of ‘animal rights’, but that is not least because he views human beings as another species of animal, and therefore is willing to extend the same moral principles as apply to humans to the rest of the animal kingdom.
At the forefront of Singer’s thinking is the question of suffering and its avoidance. In simplistic terms, he is a ‘utilitarian’, evaluating actions overall by their outcomes in terms of bringing about the best of situations for the most of sentient organisms.
In his blog article, therefore, he pushes this thinking to examine a question which I am surprised has not been given greater prominence before, namely, given the inevitably limited quality of all human life, would it not be better, now that we know there is nothing more than this life and have the ability to control our reproductive capacity, simply to make sure that this is the last generation of human beings?
He is prompted to ask this, however, by the publication of a work by a South African philosopher David Benatar — someone of whom I admit to never having heard, but whom Singer describes as “the author of a fine book with an arresting title: ‘Better Never to Have Been: The Harm of Coming into Existence.’”
In evaluating Benatar’s work, Singer notes that there is an asymmetry in our thinking when it comes to begetting children. We are troubled at the thought of brining into existence a child whose quality of life might be very low, but we do not use the idea that they might be happy as a converse argument that we should try for conception. (In fact, as Singer observes, the reasons why people decide to have children are generally much more to do with their own happiness and quality of life than anything which might benefit the child.)
Benatar, however, notes that all human life involves some suffering and (if we are honest) considerable disappointment. Thus, for example, as followers of this blog will have noticed, my wife’s elderly father is currently in hospital where his illness may prove terminal and where he is experiencing not just weakness, but indignity. Yet every child born is potentially like to suffer the same or worse, at least towards the end of their life. Singer notes, “To bring into existence someone who will suffer is, Benatar argues, to harm that person,” but, he continues, “to bring into existence someone who will have a good life is not to benefit him or her.”
Therefore, in Singer’s words,
Few of us would think it right to inflict severe suffering on an innocent child, even if that were the only way in which we could bring many other children into the world. Yet everyone will suffer to some extent, and if our species continues to reproduce, we can be sure that some future children will suffer severely. Hence continued reproduction will harm some children severely, and benefit none.
Singer therefore offers this thought experiment to test our response to Benatar’s argument:
So why don’t we make ourselves the last generation on earth? If we would all agree to have ourselves sterilized then no sacrifices would be required — we could party our way into extinction!
As Singer points out, this has certain advantages, not least that we could stop feeling guilty about what we are doing to the planet. And we would not be depriving anyone of anything, for that potential ‘future generation’ simply does not, and will not, exist. As Singer puts it, “Can non-existent people have a right to come into existence?”
However, Singer himself rejects Benatar’s conclusions, and his justification for this is worth reading in full:
I do think it would be wrong to choose the non-sentient universe [ie, one with no human beings]. In my judgment, for most people, life is worth living. Even if that is not yet the case, I am enough of an optimist to believe that, should humans survive for another century or two, we will learn from our past mistakes and bring about a world in which there is far less suffering than there is now.
The first point to note here is that Singer makes quite a sweeping claim: “In my judgement, for most people, life is worth living.” Yet earlier in his post he is careful to apply his standards of judgement to “most people in developed nations”.
The reason for this is obvious: in under-developed nations, life for millions, if not billions, is a constant struggle. And indeed, Singer shows he is aware of this in his next sentence, “Even if this is not the case ...” Yet Singer basis his objection to Benatar’s pessimism on his own mere optimism and faith: “I am enough of an optimist to believe ...”
Singer, it seems, finally falls foul of the problem which affects many atheists, that they just do not want to act like one. A world without human beings is, for Singer (if you’ll pardon the pun) inconceivable, even if the only justification for its continuation is the blind hope that “things can only get better”.
Yet even he can only hope for a world in which there is “far less suffering”, not one in which there is none at all. And if the avoidance of suffering is important then we come back to the questions with which he concludes:
Is life worth living? Are the interests of a future child a reason for bringing that child into existence? And is the continuance of our species justifiable in the face of our knowledge that it will certainly bring suffering to innocent future human beings?
For a thinking atheist, these must be a real challenge.
John Richardson
10 June 2010
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Saturday, 20 March 2010

Religion, ideology and the problem of evil

I've just been reading Johann Hari's online article The Pope, the Prophet, and the religious support for evil, and wondered at the juxtaposition of two somewhat contradictory attitudes. First, he poses his opening question:
What can make tens of millions of people – who are in their daily lives peaceful and compassionate and caring – suddenly want to physically dismember a man for drawing a cartoon [...] ? Not reason. Not evidence. No. But it can happen when people choose their polar opposite – religion.
So it is religion - specifically Islam in the case of the cartoons - which makes people behave badly. Moreover, he continues, Muslims have a thing or two to learn from Europeans, who have been mocking religion for centuries and now enjoy all the benefits. In fact, he suggests,
It will be a shining day for Muslims when they can do the same.
So three cheers for the Danish cartoons about the prophet! Well, actually no, just two cheers, because,
Some of the cartoons were witty. Some were stupid. One seemed to suggest Muslims are inherently violent – an obnoxious and false idea.

So, according to Hari, Muslims - that is to say, those who, as a result of the unreasonability of Islam, want to physically dismember a man for drawing a cartoon and should instead take the European rationalist 'chill pill' - are not 'inherently' violent, just violent in their "tens of millions" when it comes to their religion.

Hari's target is respect for religions - respect which he feels should be accorded to no idea or institution:
Nobody says I should "respect" conservatism or communism and keep my opposition to them to myself – but that's exactly what is routinely said about Islam or Christianity or Buddhism. What's the difference?

Now Hari is right about the fact that terrible things are done in the name of religion, but I have two questions. The first is why the exemption of Muslims from the very thing that you are writing an article to critique, namely the power of religion to motivate people to do bad things? Hari says Muslims are not 'inherently' violent. What exactly does he mean by 'inherently'?

If he means 'as human beings, rather than as Muslims', then he is stating either a truism: "the human material from which Muslims are drawn is no worse than that for the rest of us," or, on the face of it, a falsehood: "human beings are not inherently violent".

If, however, he means by not 'inherently' that Islam does not, as a religious belief, incline people to violence, then surely he is stating a conscious falsehood (compare his opening paragraph) and, moreover, he is doing this out of 'respect' for Islam.

The other question is this: if all religion is false (which he clearly believes it is), then what would he blame for human violence?

In many cases, of course, it is the role of an ideology to move us to violence, but it is the human material which is surely the underlying problem. One may take, for example, the violence in Northern Ireland, carried out by 'Catholics' and 'Protestants', many of whom clearly had only the most tenuous adherence to Christianity (in evidence of which, note that the levels of churchgoing in Northern Ireland, whilst higher than in the rest of the UK, were never staggering during the recent 'Troubles'). Indeed, in some cases it was the more openly 'secularized' (but ideologically highly motivated) personalities who were at the forefront of the 'struggle'.

You can, it seems, take a number of different - and even contradictory - ideological positions and evoke  the same violence in human beings. Animal liberationists, Green activists, hunt saboteurs, environmentalists are all, it would seem, capable of being people who are happy to create a spot of 'bovver' in the name of a 'good cause', despite the popular image of wearing sandals and living on tofu.

One thing is sure. When we have eliminated religion, we will not have eliminated the human factor, and the the truly inherent violence it entails. Indeed, since religion is, according to people like Hari, just a projection of the human imagination, it is we who have caused even all the violence done in the name of religion.

John Richardson
20 March 2010

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Saturday, 6 February 2010

What should atheist aid look like?

(You have to know about the atheist bus campaign to get this.)
A few days ago, Professor Richard Dawkins published a swingeing attack on Christians for their attitude towards disasters in general and the Haitian earthquake in particular. At the end of his article, he added a link to a website for “Non-Believers Giving Aid”, a coalition for “freethought groups or associates, to collect donations to non-religious relief organizations”.
As something of a thought experiment, I decided to see if, from (as far as possible) an entirely atheist perspective, this was actually itself a strictly rational response to the situation. In it, I suggested that there is a degree of unwarranted ‘anthropomorphising’ in Professor Dawkins’ language and a strong element of anthropocentrism in his world view.
This continues not only in his article, but in his appeal for aid:
Earthquakes and tsunamis are caused not by ‘sin’ but by tectonic plate movements, and tectonic plates, like everything else in the physical world, are supremely indifferent to human affairs and sadly indifferent to human suffering.
To say that an earthquake is ‘indifferent’ to human suffering, however, is to ascribe to it a quality which, in actuality, it does not possess. It sounds as though we have said something, when in fact we have said nothing. Or rather, we have simply used emotive language to subvert a viewpoint with which we disagree (that there are some potentially ‘sympathetic’ forces behind natural events). However, if we know that such forces do not exist, we cannot then go on to say that an earthquake is ‘indifferent’ about us —much less “supremely indifferent”, as if it had its nose emphatically in the air! It is rather like saying it is ‘humourless’ (or “completely humourless”). It is simply a non-statement within an atheist frame of reference.
As to earthquakes being “sadly indifferent to human suffering”, this rather presumes that human suffering matters. Now of course, human beings find human suffering ‘sad’, but then that is because we are programmed to. Professor Dawkins writes,
Those of us who understand this reality [that the human suffering caused by earthquakes is just the result of natural phenomena] are sometimes accused of being indifferent to that suffering ourselves.
And indeed people do sometimes falsely accuse atheists of lacking feeling, but of course, being human, atheists will have the full range of human feelings. That is not to be denied. However, atheists also claim to have something which they believe not all other human beings have, which is a proper understanding of the world in general and human nature in particular.
In Richard Dawkins’ case, I have suggested this includes three specific convictions: first, that there are no ‘gods’, secondly, that the material realm is all that there is, and thirdly that the evolutionary perspective he advocates is correct.
What he derives from that evolutionary perspective is what he calls “four good Darwinian reasons for individuals to be altruistic, generous or ‘moral’ [sic] towards each other” (The God Delusion, p251):
1. Genetic kinship (thus promoting the group genes).
2. ‘Tit for Tat’ reciprocation of favours.
3. Acquiring a reputation for ‘goodness’
4. Advertising onself through conspicuous generosity.
These are the raw ‘Darwinian’ principles behind moral behaviour. But, as Professor Dawkins argues, what arose from evolutionary pressures now finds itself in a new context: in the modern era, we no longer face those same pressures and, moreover, although “even now full understanding is confined to a minority of scientific specialists” (Ibid, p252), we can understand cognitively that we are being driven by natural (might one say “supremely indifferent”?) inclinations which no longer strictly apply:
In ancestral times, we had the opportunity to be altruistic only towards close kin and potential reciprocators. Nowadays that restriction is no longer there, but the rule of thumb [i.e. the natural instinct] persists. Why would it not? It is just like sexual desire. We can no more help ourselves feeling pity when we see a weeping unfortunate (who is unrelated and unable to reciprocate) than we can help ourselves feeling lust for a member of the opposite sex (who may be infertile or otherwise unable to reproduce). (Ibid, p253)
Of course atheists feel for the sufferings of the Haitians. We cannot help it! But at least the atheist understands that these feelings are what Dawkins calls ‘misfirings’ of an evolutionary mechanism. In that respect, our response to seeing suffering Haitian children on the television is no different from the feelings evoked by seeing a beautiful naked woman or man on the same screen. The sorrow and the erection are essentially the same. The question for the atheists is this: knowing what is actually going on in themselves what should they do? As Professor Dawkins says on his website,
... we do not hide behind the notion that earthly suffering will be rewarded in a heavenly paradise, nor do we expect a heavenly reward for our generosity ...
Quite so — but more than that, the atheist knows that the Haitian he sees on the television is not going to reciprocate when he himself is off work with ’flu. Professor Dawkins clearly thinks that we should, nevertheless, be motivated to relieve the circumstances of the Haitian:
... the understanding that this is the only life any of us have makes the need to alleviate suffering even more urgent.
But as we are increasingly being made aware, the ultimate way to put an end to suffering is through death. If we are to alleviate suffering in the short term, we must think through why, and what we are to do. The question is, knowing our true circumstances — that we are being moved by our instincts to have inappropriate feelings about strangers with whom we have no relationship and who will never themselves be in a position to reciprocate — how, rationally, should we respond?
The best answer, based on Professor Dawkins’ four criteria for moral behaviour, would seem to be to consider the effect of our response on our collective, national, status in the world. It is as a nation that we are likely to receive reciprocal benefits, and it is as a nation that we can enhance our reputation. As it happens, President Obama has recently given a speech (full of unfortunate religious references) part of which (whether deliberately or not) illustrates exactly this principle:
Last month, God’s grace, God’s mercy, seemed far away from our neighbors in Haiti. And yet I believe that grace was not absent in the midst of tragedy. ... It was felt in the presence of relief workers and medics; translators; servicemen and women, bringing water and food and aid to the injured.
One such translator was an American of Haitian descent, representative of the extraordinary work that our men and women in uniform do all around the world —Navy Corpsman Christian [sic] Brossard. And lying on a gurney aboard the USNS Comfort, a woman asked Christopher: “Where do you come from? What country? After my operation,” she said, “I will pray for that country.” And in Creole, Corpsman Brossard responded, “Etazini.” The United States of America.
The atheist will rightly scoff at the President’s theology. And the atheist may not be too impressed by the reciprocity on offer —we send you our navy with medicines, you give us your (meaningless) prayers. Nevertheless, as President Obama’s words hint, the useful thing is to have a high profile for your country:
God’s grace, and the compassion and decency of the American people is expressed through the men and women like Corpsman Brossard. It’s expressed through the efforts of our Armed Forces, through the efforts of our entire government, through similar efforts from Spain and other countries around the world.
Here we have something like a rational reason for aid, though it is not the reason put forward on Professor Dawkins’ website. His own suggested motivations are rather less clear and rather more mixed:
Non-Believers Giving Aid is ... an easy conduit for the non-religious to help those in desperate need, whilst simultaneously giving the lie to the canard that you need God to be good.
The question this begs, of course, is what we mean by ‘being good’. The atheist knows it is not what the religious believe —misled as they are by their ignorance at many levels. That being the case, however, the important thing is to make clear what we do mean, and how it is expressed through what we do. Atheist aid, I suggest, should look like this:

John Richardson
6 February 2010
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Thursday, 4 February 2010

Is Richard Dawkins really rational?

In the following blog post I am attempting something quite difficult for me, namely to critique a position with which I disagree from a viewpoint I do not accept. I remember CS Lewis saying how hard it was in this respect writing The Screwtape Letters. Nevertheless, I believe the attempt is worth the effort. Indeed, I am to some extent using the approach adopted by a key proponent of that position, namely to seek to probe the weaknesses of the opposition’s case rather than to advocate positively the strengths of my own.
I was started on this line of thought (via the Cranmer blog) by an article in The Times by Professor Richard Dawkins, commenting on Christian responses to the Haitian earthquake. However, for the purposes of this exercise I intend to accept Professor Dawkins’ position. I will assume therefore that he is right in three essential respects: first, that there are no ‘gods’, secondly, that the material realm is all that there is, and thirdly that the evolutionary perspective he advocates is correct.
I will therefore completely ignore Professor Dawkins’ religious arguments. In effect, I am saying, “You win. Let us henceforth be atheists and try to look at things entirely and only from that point of view.”
What I will seek to show, however, is that, far from being the ‘rationalist’ he claims, Professor Dawkins is nowhere near rational enough. But I am not going to use religion as a counter-argument. Thus, although I hope others will feel free to contribute their comments, I will be inclined to delete anything (even from the good Professor himself) which attempts to refute what I am saying by attacking religion. Let us try to clear our minds (difficult thought that is) and, in agreement with Professor Dawkins’ presuppositions, consider what he has actually said.
An anthropomorphic description
The first difficulty with the Professor’s original article is the anthropomorphic language in the opening paragraph:
We know what caused the catastrophe in Haiti. It was the bumping and grinding of the Caribbean Plate rubbing up against the North American Plate: a force of nature, sin-free and indifferent to sin, unpremeditated, unmotivated, supremely unconcerned with human affairs or human misery. (Emphasis added)
What, we might ask, is the meaning or purpose of the words I have highlighted in italics? It is absolutely true to say that the Haitian earthquake was caused by the movement of tectonic plates. It is, thus, ‘a force of nature’. But forces of nature are not ‘indifferent’, or ‘unconcerned’. They are forces —nothing less and nothing more.
Professor Dawkins doubtless uses the language of morals and intentions here because he is about to attack the views of those who (mistakenly) do indeed see a ‘moral’ element behind natural forces. However, we must not allow the error of seeing moral significance where there is none to create an equally false antithesis between the lack of moral significance and the presence of moral indifference.
For example, I may say that a falling roof tile “mercifully missed my head”. My language might suggest there was a moral element to the outcome, but in fact as such there was no ‘mercy’ involved at all. What I am referring to as ‘merciful’ is simply a particular configuration of natural forces and objects. Neither the tile, nor anything else, ‘had mercy’ on me. 
Had the tile hit me, however, it would have been equally misleading to say that it was ‘merciless’. Unfortunately, Professor Dawkins’ use of  just such language suggests to our (highly suggestible) minds something about nature which is actually untrue. Similarly, writing on evolution he describes the Universe as having “no design, no purpose, no evil and no good, nothing but blind pitiless indifference” (quoted from River Out of Eden: A Darwinian View of Life, emphasis added). But the fact that a thing cannot ‘see’ does not make it blind. Nor is a thing incapable of pity thereby ‘pitiless’. I might just as well describe my car as ‘blind and pitiless’. Of course, I may feel that about my car if it rolls over my foot, but the car neither possesses (nor can it be dispossessed of) such qualities. I am speaking anthropomorphically, but I am also in danger of speaking carelessly, or even misleadingly.
An anthropocentric perspective
We may wonder whether Professor Dawkins uses (unwarranted) emotionally-loaded language because he wants to make an (equally unwarranted) emotionally-loaded point: the Universe is ‘pitiless’, an earthquake is ‘unconcerned’, and that is ‘reality’. But actually it is not. Reality is far more prosaic than that.
Let us reconsider the Haitian earthquake itself. Professor Dawkins is quite right when he says it was caused by “the bumping and grinding of the Caribbean Plate rubbing up against the North American Plate: a force of nature”. But almost everything he says subsequently in his article is an expression of emotionalism, not reason.
To begin with, what is the real result of that ‘bumping and grinding’? Professor Dawkins refers to it as “Haiti’s tragedy”. But that is an emotional assessment based on an anthropocentric perspective. From a physical point of view, what Professor Dawkins describes as beginning with ‘a force of nature’ simply leads on to the deployment of other ‘natural forces’ —specifically the transference of energy. When that energy met with weakened trees, it doubtless caused them to topple, releasing more energy, when it was transferred to unstable boulders it may have caused them to roll, again releasing their energy, and when it impacted on poorly-constructed buildings it caused them to collapse and to transfer some of their energy to their human occupants.
Though it is admittedly limited, as a description of the physical events of the Haiti earthquake, the above is certainly accurate. We may wish, instinctively, to apply the word ‘tragedy’ to the human outcomes, but there is absolutely no difference regarding the physics between the toppling (and subsequent death) of a tree and the crushing (and subsequent death) of a human being. Indeed, there is ultimately no physical difference between these events and the collapse of building — they are all disruptions which result from the same forces and which are equally expressions of changes in energy states.
What we may need to remind ourselves is that, from Professor Dawkins’ perspective, this is the fundamental reality. We may question his use of anthropomorphic language concerning the earthquake, but he is quite right to deny that the initiating events involved anything other than physical forces. What we are pointing out here is that we do not move to a different ‘plane’ of events when a collapse resulting from the earthquake involves a human body rather than a house or a hill. Whatever we may feel about it, as a physical event it is just physics.
Privileging the personal
And here we encounter further problems with what Professor Dawkins has written, which is his tendency to ‘privilege the personal’. By this, we mean both that he gives priority to the impact of events on human beings above all else, and that he measures the appropriateness of our response to those events by the personal feelings they and we may have about them. Yet neither of these attitudes is warranted on the basis of our reasoning about reality.
To appreciate this, however, we have to remind ourselves of the radical challenge posed by the discoveries of the last hundred and fifty years to what had previously been assumed. In particular, we need to remember that ‘common sense’ has sometimes turned out to be an obstacle, rather than an aid, to understanding reality.
Common sense, for example, told our forebears that the sun and the planets moved around the earth. It was surely not religion that first led people to this conclusion but their own (apparently valid) experience — the heavenly bodies observably ‘move’, the earth feels to be fixed and immovable. And yet we now know that this experience was misleading.
The same, however, is now known to be true of our place in the world. ‘Common sense’ tells us that human beings are different from ‘animals’. But this also is false. On the contrary, we are animals, and the qualities that we regard as distinguishing ‘us’ from ‘them’ are differences of degree, not kind. We are drawn from exactly the same stock as the rest of the animal kingdom, and our ‘special place’ is only really special in terms of the impact we have increasingly been able to have on the environment.
One outcome of this realization is a changing attitude to those other animals that we have hitherto seen as being somehow at our disposal. At the very least, we no longer assume an automatic right to treat them carelessly or to kill or eat them. Indeed, some of us appreciate that we can no longer justify privileging human beings as somehow ‘above’ the other animals. One of the philosophers to see this most clearly is the Australian Peter Singer, who observes that our objection to sexual acts between humans and other animals is basically an irrational reaction, sustained largely by the Judaeo-Christian heritage.
This being the case, however, we surely ought to assess the Haitian earthquake, and indeed other ‘natural disasters’, in terms of their overall impact on all life, not just, or even primarily, in terms of their consequences for humans. To view the earthquake as simply a ‘human tragedy’ is to persist in a view of human beings which we now know to be unjustified.
Yet, despite the fact that we know human beings are just a part of the animal population of the planet, there will be those who will say we ought to have a special regard for them, especially when their lives are threatened. Professor Dawkins certainly seems to be one such. Thus, at the end of his article in The Times is a link to a website he has set up for ‘Non-Believers Giving Aid’, where Professor Dawkins speaks of the urgent” need to alleviate the suffering of the Haitian human population.
But why should we have any regard for this? An earlier, pre-Darwinian, generation would have spoken of moral imperatives, based on a high regard for human life and, furthermore, on a view that sympathy for others was itself an expression of ‘higher values’ — the very things which set us apart from animals.
As we have observed, however, we now know there is no difference in kind between us and the other animals impacted by the earthquake. More than that, though, we know that our instinctive feelings of sympathy for the sufferings of others are just that: instincts.
A misplaced response
Professor Dawkins has himself argued, as do many others, that what we have traditionally regarded as ‘higher values’ actually find their origin in evolutionary forces which have selected the genes which lead to the instincts which drive the behaviour which we hitherto called ‘virtues’.
The fundamental source of this is evolutionary altruism —behaviour which superficially appears to run counter to the survival of the gene-bearing individual by giving preference to others, but which actually ensures the survival of the gene-bearing pool and hence is preserved by natural selection and is passed on to the next generation. In this sense, it is just as ‘selfish’ (though of course in a non-personal sense) as all other elements which preserve the ‘selfish gene’. Strictly speaking, the appearance of ‘selflessness’ is just that.
When, therefore, we see someone suffering, we will tend to want to help them —that is good for the survival of the group. But our instinct to help is proportional to our proximity, both genetically and physically, to the person concerned. Thus we will feel a stronger affinity to family than to a stranger, or to a fellow citizen than to a foreigner. When we read ‘Dozens die in air crash’, we are shocked. When we read ‘Britons die in air crash’ we are involved.
The problem is, the advent of modern media presents the distant disaster as though it were a present danger. None of us in England actually felt the Haitian earthquake. Had it happened in 1810, virtually no one in this country would ever have known it had taken place. As it is, it is of almost no direct relevance to any of us. Why, then, do we feel inclined to donate to aid-giving charities? The answer (as we now know) is an instinctive response, actually brought about by factors favouring the survival of our group, but which can be evoked by presenting us with the necessary stimulus —in this case, news about and images of injured and suffering people.
As we have seen, our instinct is to offer help —and indeed to urge others to help. But is that actually rational? The truth is, there are undoubtedly dozens, if not hundreds, of people, every single day, who are injured or killed by the forces of nature. We care nothing about them because we hear nothing about them. We do not offer them help, nor do we seek them out. Yet we do not feel guilty about this, nor (for the most part) do we feel inspired to act any differently —and why should we? Their non-survival is no threat to us, and their survival is of no benefit. Our feelings may tell us otherwise, should this happen to get on the news, but the realities of genetics will eventually tell against them.
The inadequacy of ‘aid’
Moreover, even if we do succumb to our feelings and proffer ‘help’, what help should we give and what should be its aim? Professor Dawkins presumes it should be in the form of a financial donation, but how much is reasonable, how much is effective? Ten pounds may seem generous, but it is hardly a drop in the ocean of Haiti’s human need. A hundred pounds might make a measurable difference, but for how long? And if a hundred pounds really helps, why not give a thousand, or ten thousand?
Yet the fact is that most of the people who were going to die as a direct result of the earthquake are dead, and the injured have mostly been treated. What, then, are those who make donations trying to do with their aid and why?
Actually, if you read Professor Dawkins’ website, at least half the motivation would appear to be to make themselves feel morally superior to the religious:
Non-believers ... have no church through which to give collectively, no church to rack up statistics of competitive generosity. Non-Believers Giving Aid ... [provides] an easy conduit for the non-religious to help those in desperate need, whilst simultaneously giving the lie to the canard that you need God to be good.
Well, of course you don’t. But there surely needs to be a better reason to part with our cash than making ourselves look good compared with others.
So what will be the impact of this aid in Haiti? The superficially obvious answer is that it will improve the lives of the recipients. As Professor Dawkins’ website puts it, “the understanding that this is the only life any of us have makes the need to alleviate suffering even more urgent”. But if improving the quality of life is the motivation for parting with this money, why not spend it on oneself, or one’s family, and improve the quality of those lives?
Of course, Professor Dawkins is not just talking about improving life, he says he is also seeking to ‘relieve suffering’. But as Terry Pratchett has cogently argued, there is another, and far surer, way to relieve suffering, and that is sitting on the lawn, brandy in hand and Thomas Tallis on the iPod, ready to “shake hands with Death.”
Indeed, for an atheist, this is the supremely ‘rational’ solution. As Sir Terry is quoted as saying, “the problem with the God argument [against euthanasia] is that it works only if you believe in God”. For those who do not believe in God, death is the ultimate salvation from suffering. We would thus be entirely justified in saying that the truly lucky people in Haiti were those who died instantly and were therefore spared more suffering. For many of those who survived, life is going to be a miserable business, however much longer or shorter it may be —and they are going to die anyway.
Why should we seek to relieve suffering by prolonging life —especially the lives of people with whom we have no connection? Our instincts may urge us to this, but as we have seen, our instincts are, in this case, largely misplaced. What about ‘higher values’? Again, as we have seen, this is also a misjudgement. There are no ‘higher values’ because there is nothing higher than this, material, physical, world. There is no ‘god’, and ‘good’ behaviour finds it origin in elementary evolutionary pressures.
Some will, undoubtedly, still want to say that we can ‘rise above’ instinct and even ‘evolution’ —that by choosing to help the Haitians we are creating a value system which has its own worth. But this is itself questionable. For one thing, how do we know that we are actually operating in a way detached from instinct? Earlier generations thought that the virtues reflected just such an independent system of value. We now know they derive from forces which are entirely based in the physical and material realm —that realm which Professor Dawkins describes as ‘blind and pitiless’.
If we choose to ignore our instincts by showing no pity ourselves, we are thus arguably operating in a way which corresponds more to reality than do those who, knowing that ‘pity’ is entirely a human construct, nevertheless act as if it could make demands on their choices.
The imperative of survival
And what about the final appeal, to evolutionary survival itself? Is not aiding the Haitians to live a way of contributing to the overall human gene-pool and therefore to our perpetuation as a species?
Perhaps, but we must first remember that this survival mechanism applies to other animals, not just to us. The fact that we behave altruistically does not in any way imply that we ‘ought’ to survive, any more than it implies that whales or elephants (which are also altruistic) ought to survive.
Indeed, when we look at the development of the human race, it can be argued that, rather like a parasite that kills its host and therefore brings about its own death, there is something about our mode of existence which could, without too much imagination, conceivably be improved.
For the problem is that we simply place too many demands on our ecosystem for it to sustain us. And one of the reasons for this is that we are too ‘successful’ at reproducing. We are like a population of predators that outstrips the supply of food. Inevitably, there must come a point at which we must die back to a level of sustainability. Otherwise, there is a serious danger of creating such pressure on the environment that we tip over into catastrophic collapse or even extinction.
In short, our survival would arguably be aided by there being rather fewer of us. And therefore just as our instinct to reproduce could usefully be restricted so as to reduce the population, so too our instinct to ‘help’ could be re-examined so that we are less prone always to seek to maximise the human lifespan. Far from aiding the Haitians, therefore, we might actually be thankful for the earthquake and the fact that it has not only reduced the number of humans on the planet, but has also, in all likelihood, reduced somewhat our future reproductive over-capacity. (Of course, we may equally be thankful it was them, and not us, but please let us not make the mistake of thanking God for this!)
The fact is, however, we still live with the legacy of our ‘common sense’ perspective on life. Despite what we know, we still feel as if human beings are ‘special’. We still feel we must ‘help’, even though we are generally not helping very much at all, and are certainly making no ultimate difference by prolonging a life in the face of one instance of suffering, only for it to meet another, and ultimately fatal, instance further down the track.
We know that morality is a human construct, having no basis in the physical nature of the universe, but we still moralize. We know that sympathy arises out of the natural and automatic selection of those genes which favour the survival of our immediate group, but we still sympathize with the plight of distant strangers when the artifices of technology display them before our eyes. We may, of course, choose to go along with this and, for better or for worse, ‘enjoy the ride’. But we may just as reasonably choose not to.
John Richardson
4 February 2010
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Sunday, 27 September 2009

You're not the boss of me now —or are you?

Teaching on the Wisdom literature yesterday, I was struck by how in Proverbs the foundation of the good life is the godly family. The book opens with several chapters addressing the young man (person) in need of wisdom who is urged to listen to his father’s instruction and not forsake his mother’s teaching.
We may note that this itself builds on another ‘foundational’ principle, enshrined in the Ten Commandments: “Honour your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land that the Lord your God is giving you.” As St Paul observed (Eph 6:2-3), this commandment has a special quality in that there is a promise attached to it. It has consequences, not just for the individual but for society, and these are spelled out: “you will live long, and it will go well with you in the land.”
Similarly, the Proverbs have social consequences. They are, according to 1:3, “for ... doing what is right and just and fair.” And this is also the basis for God’s blessing of the world through Abraham’s descendants: “I have chosen him, so that he will direct his children and his household after him to keep the way of the Lord by doing what is right and just, so that the Lord will bring about for Abraham what he has promised him” (Gen 18:19).
All this depends, in the first instance, on the parent-to-child communication of God’s ways. Abraham is to direct “his children and his household”. The subject of Proverbs is to “listen to a father’s instruction” (4:1).
The Christian reader of Proverbs, moreover, is in the privileged position of knowing that the human relationship between parent and child is a mirror of the divine relationship between two of the three members of the godhead. The Son is constituted as ‘son’ because, as Jesus is recorded as saying in John 5:19, he does “only what he sees his Father doing.” Obedience is inherent in the son-to-father relationship. What is often overlooked, however, is that the converse to this is trust: “the Father judges no one, but has entrusted all judgment to the Son, that all may honour the Son just as they honour the Father” (5:22-23). Here is not just a lesson about the Trinity but about parenthood: parents may expect children to obey them, but ultimately they must honour this by their absolute trust of their children.
Yet it is part of the lesson of the Wisdom literature (and its fulfilment in Christ as the Wisdom of God, cf 1 Cor 1:24), that this is not universally understood or accepted. That parents may expect obedience from their children, and have the right to direct them as to how they should live, is itself a theological proposition, based on the principle that “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of Wisdom” (Prov 1:7).
Where there is no such ‘fear of the Lord’, however, we may expect Wisdom to be in increasingly short supply. We must thus be ready to question much of the agenda of our society with regard to children and their upbringing.
At the same time, however, we may challenge the assumptions of our society, both collectively and individually, about not merely education but procreation. A question worth asking, it seems to me, is what people think gives them the right to have children in the first place.
Having a child involves bringing another person into existence — yet we do not (indeed, of course, we cannot) ask that person whether or not they want to exist. Most of the people thus caused to exist will experience life as, to a greater or lesser extent, a struggle. They may, of course, have happy times as well as bad, but they will have to come to terms with their own existence, and, perhaps most difficult of all, they will eventually have to face the inevitability of the termination of their life which, in the view of many, means their consequent non-existence. (The book of Ecclesiastes is replete with material which reflects that particular struggle!)
Yet parents —even atheist parents —assume they have the right to do this to someone else: to cause them to exist and therefore to face the angst of existence itself. They do this without question and, moreover, they unquestioningly impose their authority on them, beginning with naming the child. Yet what gives anyone the right to say to another person something as dramatic as, “Everyone will call you ‘Joel’ or ‘Ziggy’,” or whatever takes their parents’ fancy?
I have no doubt that somewhere in the dark recesses of some department of sociology or social policy unit exactly these questions are being asked. And I suspect that the answer is precisely what we would expect in a society where there is no ‘fear of the Lord’: that there is no right to do this —or rather that any rights there may be are to be defined in law and regulated by the State. Once it was thought to be a privilege that schools, colleges and so on could act in loco parentis. Today, one suspects, we are moving to the position where the parents will be allowed only those privileges that the State grants to them.
But that, of course, begs another question: what gives them the right ...?
If the fear of the Lord is the beginning of Wisdom, it is also true that the lack of such fear is the beginning of the unravelling of reason.
Revd John P Richardson
27 September 2009
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Thursday, 26 March 2009

A depatism letter to parents

Apparently there is growing interest in the practice of ‘debaptism’, reported here on the BBC website. The National Secular Society says that there have been over 100,000 downloads of its debaptism certificate. Then there is a deluxe version you can order online, which at £3 a pop shows there’s money to be made out of the gullible irreligious as well as the gullible religious.

And in all this, the churches are coming in for a fair amount of flak — especially the Church of England which is refusing to comply with people’s demands for an entry to be made in baptism registers noting the ‘debaptism’. (Though with the fee for a register search standing at £19 for the first hour, 100,000 inquiries could come in handy.)

The truth is, however, that the decision to have a baby baptized, at least in the Church of England, would have been made by the parents, not the Church. Indeed, clergy are not allowed to refuse baptism. Even a delay can only be justified on certain grounds.

Moreover, it is fair to say that in the vast majority of cases (as the NSS is keen to observe) this request will have made by people with little church affiliation themselves and who have rarely encouraged it in their children.

The blame should therefore clearly lie squarely on the parents, not the church. And so with that in mind, I offer here, free of charge, a ‘Debaptism Letter to My Parents’ for the dissatisfied victims of infant baptism to download and send to them at the same time as they obtain their debaptism certificates.

Fair’s fair, after all.

Revd John P Richardson

26 March 2009


Dear Mum and Dad (especially you, Mum),

This is just to let you know how much I didn’t want to be baptized, or Christened, or have my head ‘wetted’, or whatever you called it, when I was a baby, and how cross I am that you did this to me.

Oh, I’m sure you thought it was a good idea. Maybe Gran told you I’d grow up with one leg shorter than the other. Maybe you thought it would be a great opportunity for a slap-up celebration with all the friends and relatives. Maybe you just did it because everyone else did. Maybe, God forbid, you actually did it because you believed something.

But, hey — you weren’t thinking about me, were you?

So you phoned the poor old vicar, who knew that if he tried to put you off you’d tell everyone what an awful man he was (they were mostly men in those days, weren’t they). And anyway, he couldn’t refuse you — not without getting into trouble with his bishop if you wrote and complained.

And so although he may not have seen you before, and although he knew he’d probably never see you again, he went along with it, and he visited you, and he tried to encourage you to go to church. And you did a couple of times, but only until I’d been ‘done’, and then it kind of trailed off, didn’t it? Sure, you let me choose not to go to church — let’s face it, when did you go? But what happened to freedom of choice when I was too young to object?

What did you think you were doing? Why make ‘promises’ for me you weren’t intending to encourage me to keep? If church wasn’t good enough for you, why did you think it was good enough for me?

So anyway, I’ve bought myself one of those ‘Debaptism’ certificates, and I’ve written a cross letter to the (new) vicar demanding he remove my name from the baptism register, and I’ve told them I don’t want to have myself counted in their membership statistics.

But they weren’t the ones who asked for me to be baptized, were they? No, it was you! And its you I blame now.

Thanks a bunch.

Your loving offspring

(Signed)


PS: So far, you owe me £3.

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Friday, 24 October 2008

Don't worry, be happy - for a while, anyway

I do not know whether Felix Dennis is an atheist or not, but I couldn't help thinking of these words about happiness from one of the world's richest men, when I considered the atheist's slogan, "stop worrying and enjoy your life":
Am I happy? No. Or, at least, only occasionally, when I am walking in the woods alone, or deeply ensconced in composing a difficult piece of verse, or sitting quietly with old friends over a bottle of wine. Or feeding a stray cat.

I could do all those things without wealth. So why do I not give it all away?

Because I worked too hard for it. Because I am tainted by it. Because I am afraid to. All those reasons and more. Perhaps if I am lucky enough to become old, I will accumulate something else: the courage to give it all away before I die. That would be a good thing, I think. (Felix Dennis, How to Get Rich, Ebury Press, 2007, 284-285)
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Thursday, 23 October 2008

Probably the craziest advert in the world

Why did Ariane Sherine, who came up with the idea for a campaign to put ‘atheist advertisements’ on the sides of London buses suggest as a slogan, "There’s probably no God"? Surely an atheist convinced enough to pay to advertise her beliefs would want to write, "There’s no God", period?

According to one of her earlier Comment is Free columns, it may be because the manufacturers of Carling lager can advertise their product as "Probably the best lager in the world", without incurring the disapproval of the Advertising Standards Authority.

Or is there another reason? Back in February, Ms Sherine described her desperate struggle with depression and the side-effects of anti-depressants. So awful was this, she wrote, "anti- depressants depressed me till I prayed to God to make the pain stop."

But doesn’t that rather undermine the whole campaign? Shouldn’t the slogan read, "There’s probably no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life - unless life is really unbearable, in which case although atheism certainly won’t help you, God just might"?

Or is that just too long for the side of a bus?

Revd John Richardson

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A not-so-sure atheist?

Guess who said ...

"anti-depressants depressed me till I prayed to God to make the pain stop."

Answer here, and see here.

(And by the way, as someone who has known depression and anti-depressants, I have every sympathy, despite the contradiction.)

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