I used to watch Jonny Quest religiously when I was a child. I loved the sense of adventure and excitement. In keeping myself entertained on my exercise bike with these old episodes, today's was one I did not remember: "A Small Matter of Pygmies." Jonny and Hadji and Race are captured by a tribe of pygmies determined to make human sacrifices of them, and only narrowly escape.
As they meet up with Dr. Quest later, he reads a letter Race had been on his way to deliver. In a peculiar twist, it is a request that Dr. Quest participate in a round table discussion: "African pygmies: warm and friendly, or not?" There is resounding laughter as they all agree they are not.
I realized that I felt almost guilty for watching the show, and I wondered why. Of course, it was because nowadays, no tribal group would be permitted to be roundly condemned in such a way on a TV show. Even if there are tribal groups which do practice violent means of relating to the rest of the world, the current view is that all groups and all ideologies must be given equal consideration.
It is odd to have a copy of something so subversive. I'm surprised that in a country which was founded on, among other things, the principle of free speech, I would feel so uncomfortable enjoying someone's expression of it. Is this really a free country? What would a free country look like?
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Friday, December 14, 2007
"Billions could face water shortages"
After my summer with people who were more knowledgeable about climate change than I am, I admit I still do not feel in a comfortable position to insert myself into the chaos that defines the current discussion of Earth's future.
When all headlines begin to look sensationalist, I wonder. I know it's not acceptable to wonder. I know it's not acceptable to question the quantitative process the scientists at IPCC went through to draw their dismal conclusions.
I'm not denying the phenological evidence of warming. I just wish I knew the exact mathematical process by which these predictions were being made.
And actually, I wish another thing. I wish this debate had not taken the form of a religious crusade. Although with the propensity of mankind for religious crusades, perhaps I am overly optimistic.
For now, I'll keep my questions, and my doubts, to myself. I would not want to get burned at the stake. Of course, burning releases carbon dioxide...
When all headlines begin to look sensationalist, I wonder. I know it's not acceptable to wonder. I know it's not acceptable to question the quantitative process the scientists at IPCC went through to draw their dismal conclusions.
I'm not denying the phenological evidence of warming. I just wish I knew the exact mathematical process by which these predictions were being made.
And actually, I wish another thing. I wish this debate had not taken the form of a religious crusade. Although with the propensity of mankind for religious crusades, perhaps I am overly optimistic.
For now, I'll keep my questions, and my doubts, to myself. I would not want to get burned at the stake. Of course, burning releases carbon dioxide...
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Coming all the way out
After the process of "coming out" about so many aspects of myself I had kept hidden for years, my atheism now seems a glaring exception to the rule. Only three of the people I call good friends even know about this blog. One of them isn't even completely nonreligious, and I actually find myself experiencing some apprehension about her reaction. I don't like that I feel I have to choose between my convictions and friendships. Normally I handle this by never bringing up religion in any conversation. I am the opposite of what most people might think an ardent atheist looks like. I am usually conspicuously silent on the subject.
But what does the silence mean?
A hallmark of most religions (Sam Harris would say all religions) is intolerance for other belief systems. On what basis can I argue that my intolerance for all religious beliefs is different?
I notice the hostility with which most people regard professed atheists - it's easy to see. I have experienced it since I was too young to remember - since the first time a little girl told me I was going to burn in a fire because I did not go to church. Is it possible I have been scarred by religion, like some of the more vocal atheists? Could this be a psychological reaction to a form of abuse? Is there such a thing as a harmless religious belief?
But I did not respond with confidence to this persecution. The last time I recall comfortably arguing about religion was in high school, with a friend of mine who was a misogynist pastor's son. I was at my explosive best, and he laughed constantly. He had such smug certainty, while I wanted reasons and understanding. Then followed years of pursuit of that understanding - class after class about other religions, Eastern philosophy - any ideas other than those springing from the Christian tradition - I tried it all. I went to church. I prayed on my knees. I surrendered myself to a Higher Power.
After it all, the only thing I found was that I felt helpless and dependent. Do all religious people just feel comfortable being helpless and dependent?
So I did not give up on religion easily, once I had decided to find out the truth. But the truth was that it was just as much make-believe as I had initially accepted it was, in my childhood innocence.
But there remain all the religious people in the world, and their silent partners - the people whose reactions are the most troublesome to me - those who don't profess religion themselves, but who disagree with the premise that some beliefs are more irrational than others. There is a philosophical issue at work here - the product of a long line of anti-reality philosophers - and it has become prevalent to the degree that insulting religion is enough to enrage almost anyone.
Why do they think there is something sacred in the imagination? Why do they not see the primacy of the objects around them? Why do they not understand the importance of logic? Never having had to accumulate arguments against the existence of a supreme being with any of my immediate family, I suppose I didn't learn how to do it. But that's not good enough anymore. I need tools. I need understanding of why I think the way I do. It is no longer enough to just roll my eyes and change the subject. If I want to interact with people who are not atheists, I am going to have to know what is in my head and bring it out in the open.
But what does the silence mean?
A hallmark of most religions (Sam Harris would say all religions) is intolerance for other belief systems. On what basis can I argue that my intolerance for all religious beliefs is different?
I notice the hostility with which most people regard professed atheists - it's easy to see. I have experienced it since I was too young to remember - since the first time a little girl told me I was going to burn in a fire because I did not go to church. Is it possible I have been scarred by religion, like some of the more vocal atheists? Could this be a psychological reaction to a form of abuse? Is there such a thing as a harmless religious belief?
But I did not respond with confidence to this persecution. The last time I recall comfortably arguing about religion was in high school, with a friend of mine who was a misogynist pastor's son. I was at my explosive best, and he laughed constantly. He had such smug certainty, while I wanted reasons and understanding. Then followed years of pursuit of that understanding - class after class about other religions, Eastern philosophy - any ideas other than those springing from the Christian tradition - I tried it all. I went to church. I prayed on my knees. I surrendered myself to a Higher Power.
After it all, the only thing I found was that I felt helpless and dependent. Do all religious people just feel comfortable being helpless and dependent?
So I did not give up on religion easily, once I had decided to find out the truth. But the truth was that it was just as much make-believe as I had initially accepted it was, in my childhood innocence.
But there remain all the religious people in the world, and their silent partners - the people whose reactions are the most troublesome to me - those who don't profess religion themselves, but who disagree with the premise that some beliefs are more irrational than others. There is a philosophical issue at work here - the product of a long line of anti-reality philosophers - and it has become prevalent to the degree that insulting religion is enough to enrage almost anyone.
Why do they think there is something sacred in the imagination? Why do they not see the primacy of the objects around them? Why do they not understand the importance of logic? Never having had to accumulate arguments against the existence of a supreme being with any of my immediate family, I suppose I didn't learn how to do it. But that's not good enough anymore. I need tools. I need understanding of why I think the way I do. It is no longer enough to just roll my eyes and change the subject. If I want to interact with people who are not atheists, I am going to have to know what is in my head and bring it out in the open.
Arguing with the religious
A friend asked me today why I begrudge people their religion. I told her I didn't begrudge them, that I simply distrusted them, because they believe in imaginary things. She brought out the old argument that believing in the Big Bang is no different.
I never have the right kind of ammunition for these kinds of statements. I want to have it. But at the same time, I feel the inevitable sadness that happens when I find out that there are so very few people in the world I can truly be myself with.
It's like trying to argue with a crazy person; I can't think of it any other way. They set the rules for the argument. I know I am missing something important. What is it?
I never have the right kind of ammunition for these kinds of statements. I want to have it. But at the same time, I feel the inevitable sadness that happens when I find out that there are so very few people in the world I can truly be myself with.
It's like trying to argue with a crazy person; I can't think of it any other way. They set the rules for the argument. I know I am missing something important. What is it?
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