Tag Archives: Humanism

Seizing the day

The other day I was watching a Nova episode called “What Darwin Never Knew,” about how modern science is helping us to better understand the process of evolution. My mind wandered a bit as I thought about finch beaks and gene sequencing, when a comment suddenly brought me back to the TV: a reminder that On the Origin of Species is only 150 years old.

When I think about evolution, I think in terms of thousands, millions, hundreds of millions of years — staggering numbers. I think about fossils and living fossils, like the vampire squid, and I’m overtaken by how utterly amazing the whole thing is. But focusing for a moment on the age of the theory itself, it’s staggering in another direction to consider just how long religion has been part of human history — thousands, even tens of thousands of years.

It’s said that if you look at the age of the Earth in terms of a 24-hour day, modern humans have been here for only a scant few seconds or minutes of that day. Similarly, the theory of evolution takes up a tiny slice of religion’s “day.” How far it’s come in that amount of time, and how much further it needs to go!

For most secularists (I assume there are exceptions), evolution is a fact as solid as the combination of sodium and chloride producing table salt. But it’s also a fact now for many religious people, displacing the belief in divine creation they would have held just a century and a half ago, about as long as the saxophone has been around. This, even though it’s not nearly enough yet, is a triumph of science.

A month before I was born, an evolutionary biologist — a winner of the National Medal of Science and a Russian Orthodox Christian — published an essay, the title of which is frequently quoted as an example of how evolution and religion can coexist. His name was Theodosius Dobzhansky, and the essay is “Nothing in Biology Makes Sense Except in the Light of Evolution.” It’s beautiful how the light of God, even for a believer, is not what illuminates the features of our world, but rather evolution.

I haven’t studied evolution formally or extensively, so all of this may seem derivative and/or painfully self-obvious. (To the former, I assure you I haven’t been cribbing from anyone, and the latter ought to prove it.) These are just my layperson’s thoughts swirling around election time, when the issue of who is going to educate our kids is paramount, especially given the purely incredible finding that the U.S. comes next to last in its acceptance of evolution, according to a 2005 survey of 34 countries. With the perspective of the religious “day,” though, it makes a little more sense that we aren’t further along than we are, and even seem to be backsliding at times.

A lot of people are doing a lot of work trying to encourage scientific and rational thought, and furthering the acceptance of evolution. Sometimes it seems that all the work is only chipping away at the enormous edifice of religion and creationism. But it’s the very enormity of that edifice that illustrates the success evolution has had in changing fundamental principles about how we view the world.

Maybe biologists and other proponents of evolution need more patience. I’m not saying, by any means, that we should become complacent or stop doing all that work. I believe another Enlightenment is possible, in which evolution and other principles of science win out over myth and superstition again. I don’t believe, though, that we’ll see the changes we want to see in our lifetimes, or in the next few generations — or even in the next few centuries.

So maybe it is faith that we need, faith in the process of evolution as well as the theory. Evolution is clearly the “fittest” explanation of creation on our planet, and I do have faith that one day, someday, it will survive and triumph over its opponents. It’s just going to take more than a moment of religion’s time to happen.

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I love religion

I’ve enjoyed visiting other countries, and it’s inevitable that notable houses of worship are included on the sightseeing lists. Most of those visits took place when I was college age or a little older, and the idea that I was an atheist hadn’t crossed my mind at all, although I really was one even then.

I did feel distanced from the religious history of the buildings, because most of them were Christian or Catholic and I was just starting to get more connected to my own Jewish history. But that never stopped me from being awed by the sheer dedication and artistry that went into building these monuments. When I viewed the striped cathedral of Siena or admired the unique blue stained glass of Chartres cathedral, I thought about the people who created these things so long ago, and all the immense work it took for so many years.

In a way I took a humanistic view of the buildings, although that word wouldn’t have meant anything to me at the time. Of course, yes, they were inspired by the evil Catholic church or other corrupt, money-hungry sects of whatever. That fact remains. But even though the first U.S. transcontinental railroad was partly built by what amounted to Chinese slave labor, can’t we still admire the feat?

Without religion, the requiems by Mozart, Brahms, Fauré, Verdi, and others wouldn’t exist. (Actually quite a lot of music wouldn’t exist; I’m just picking out a few.) Imagine the elimination of nearly all music from Gregorian chants to the Baroque era. Both religious patronage and inspiration helped to create that music, but I can’t imagine a world without it. In high school, I sang in Ralph Vaughan Williams’s Christmas cantata Hodie, and the fact that it’s about the birth of Christ didn’t do a thing to dent the pure, amazing joy of singing that music in a beautiful hall with a full choir and orchestra.

And then there’s the enormous, secular body of literature, theatre, and film based on stories from religious texts. Okay, the world could probably live without Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, but supernatural Greek and Biblical myths alone are the basis for more of our libraries than I’d want to see disappear.

When I saw the Book of Kells, there was nothing religious to me about it. It was impossible to read, but that didn’t stop me from admiring the beautiful illumination by talented scribes. They may have been inspired by Jesus but I didn’t have to see it in that context: it was a work of art. The same went for the poster of Dali’s Crucifixion (Corpus Hypercubus) that I hung in my apartment during college. There are many things that made me love that painting, perhaps more on the Corpus Hypercubus side than the Crucifixion side. It didn’t feel like I was putting a cross in my room; it was a work of art that moved and intrigued me.

I am not arguing against a secular society. Believe me. I hope one day there’s a place where religion plays no part at all, and science and discovery are worshiped and showered with money instead. I also think religion is generally an outdated and irrelevant system, and I’m not arguing for its promotion in the name of art.

What I’m responding to is when I hear people expressing disgust at the opulence of ancient churches or distaste for any music that has any relationship to God. To each his own. But there’s a further assertion that the world would be so much better if all that time, money, energy, and inspiration went into advancing science and knowledge instead.

That may well be true. But if we really are part of a multiverse, then there’s a version of our world where that did happen. There’s also a version where the U.S. and the Soviet Union destroyed the planet, and one where a space probe comes back infested with a hyper-intelligent sort of jam creature that goes on to form a coalition government with Madagascar.

So speculation doesn’t matter. The past is the past and this is our world. Religion has been the driving force behind shaping so much of our culture, it seems like a losing battle to ignore our history instead of at least studying it, if not embracing it. I don’t personally see the point in rejecting the masterpieces that religion inspired, and that can inspire us no matter what our own views are. I can’t agree with people who assert that religion has never brought any good to the world. Stick with your secular art on principle if that’s important to you — your choice doesn’t affect me, of course — but I can safely say I do love religion for bringing all these things into the world.

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The Center for Inquiry, divided against itself

The Center for Inquiry is a longstanding organization that does a ton of excellent work in promoting a secular, humanist society. Based in Amherst, NY, it has branches in many other cities across the U.S., including here in Los Angeles. Many skeptics and most atheists I know respect and support the CFI, but things have been changing.

The New York Times recently published an article about CFI founder Paul Kurtz, whose hiring of Robert Lindsay as chief executive proved extremely divisive. The story describes a split between Kurtz’s preference for a gentle brand of humanism and Lindsay’s “angry atheism” — Kurtz’s words, denied by Lindsay and CFI employees. The split, along with other concerns, caused Kurtz to be voted out as chairman, and his later resignation from the board.

I know some of these employees, either from actually having met them or communicated over Facebook. And certainly, they are not all angry atheists, nor has CFI morphed into some kind of robotic uber-Dawkins, equipped with anti-secularist radar and lasers to eliminate the targets. It’s important to remember, too, that there are many branches and departments run by a variety of people.

But there have been some CFI-related incidents that have made me start to waver in my full support. The first was a statement about Park51, including comments by Lindsay, that sent waves of surprise over the skeptical/atheist community. The statement is no longer available to read in full, but Orac at Respectful Insolence gave a detailed (and opinionated) take on it. The controversy this statement engendered can be read in this comments of this post. Quickly, the original statement was replaced by another, clarifying CFI’s position that they oppose the building of any new houses of worship. It’s noted that “This statement supersedes any prior statement issued by CFI regarding the Ground Zero controversy.” This incident seemed like a very public example of the clashing ideologies within the organization.

CFI has a program called CFI On Campus, whose website includes blog posts written by various people. JT Eberhard, founder of Skepticon (about more which later), wrote a post that included statements like

It’s the 21st century and yet the leader of the free world, in order to ingratiate himself with the common man, must profess to believe that not only did a Jew rise from the dead 2,000 years ago, but that he is in communion with that Jew.

and

And rather than make people shudder that the president believes he can kneel in the oval office and run his policy through that 2,000 year-old Jew (and presumably get a cosmic thumbs-up regardless of the policy), it will actually make most people like him more.

The use of the word “Jew” here was pointed out in a Facebook post, and after reading the blog, I was somewhat annoyed, as you can see in the first comment. Coincidentally I had recently had several conversations about whether and why the term “Jew” is seen as pejorative, as compared with “Jewish.” Here I was at a loss to understand why the term was used with such disdain; “guy” would have been a perfectly good choice. What really made a negative impact, and drove me from the discussion, were all the comments taking a smarmy position that there was nothing even potentially offensive about it, proving their authors both closed-minded to their critics and ignorant of history. I realize JT Eberhard is not an official spokesperson for CFI’s policies. But their name is still at the top of that post.

And this year’s Skepticon, organized by Eberhard and sponsored by CFI, has a remarkably weird line-up of speakers and panels. Among respected speakers discussing questions about skepticism and atheism, there are talks called “Are Christians Delusional?” and, by Eberhard, “The Twelve Basic Arguments for God and Why They Suck.” I’m just going to assume the answer to the first question is “yes,” and the second title is simply childish, especially given the company it’s in.

I’m aware that many smaller, grassroots skeptical groups have developed rifts over their focus changing to atheism. The two do overlap significantly, though not totally, and Skepticon isn’t necessarily wrong to appeal to those skeptics who are also interested in discussions about atheism. But do they have to be smug and arrogant about it? I’m pretty sure Christian skeptics might be interested in the panel about whether skepticism leads to atheism, especially as moderated by Julia Galef. But will they want to go to ones that insult them in the very titles? Does atheism really need to be a bully to religious skeptics, and can we afford to run them off?

No, I don't advocate beating up Scientologists. Possible exception: Tom Cruise.

A blog post on the CFI situation by Greg Fish at weird things has made me examine again what is important to me about being an atheist. When I realized I was one, I did have a brief interest in locating others online and discussing this new part of my identity, but I quickly left the first atheist forum I found because of the constant angry invective towards anything non-secular. It so happens now that I know a lot of reasonable atheists interested in intelligent discussion, but mainly because of our shared interest in skepticism, which in the end I’d rather focus on.

Yes, I want to see religion beaten back by science and reason; yes, I want it out of our schools; yes, I believe the current Pope is a horrendous individual. There’s not much that the “radical” or “angry” atheists say that I don’t agree with. And oh just kill me now, you’re thinking, because she’s about to get into the tone discussion. And yes, that’s part of it. But it’s also about practicality. If atheists wish to convert religious skeptics, fine, but can you do that while insulting them at the same time? “Come on into the club, even though you’re too ugly to be here.” I don’t think that strategy is likely to pay off.

I know many atheists were mistreated or damaged in any number of ways by religion, and they are rightfully angry about it. They want revenge on the religious as payment. I can understand that and I’m not about to argue against it. But I don’t think that displaying that anger is beneficial to the CFI. Hurling back the same insults at the religious that they hurl at us is absolutely futile. (I’m referring to the examples I’ve provided, not characterizing CFI in general.)

Realizing I was an atheist was a joyful experience for me. My world finally made sense when I stopped trying to shoehorn various incarnations of God into it. Unfortunately, and more and more so lately, I haven’t found much joy in the work and discussion promulgated by some of my fellow atheists. My realization didn’t engender a need to lash out at those who believe; I understand that isn’t the case for many people, but I simply don’t identify with them.

The CFI is in a transitional state right now and I continue to enjoy and support their work. Despite everything I’ve said, I encourage you to look into their programs and projects. But clearly it’s not just me who is concerned about the mixed messages coming from the organization. I wish I could engage in discussion on one of their blogs without being blown off with ridiculous assertions like “You obviously wanted to be offended so I gave you what you wanted.” I want to know more about their work with humanism and secularism, without being surprised by things like the original Park51 statement. I honestly wish nothing but the best for the CFI. But I also wish there could be a consensus on which face of atheism they choose to show the world.

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