Over the Hillary.

If Hillary gets the nomination, I'd vote for Nader.  Noam Chomsky.  Bill Hicks.  I'd move to Canada.

 

PS: please send rain.

The role of religion in social conflicts; OR, the old Crusades-Vs.-Abolition squabble.

Perfectionism and religious upbringing often go hand in hand (i.e. latter causes former).  Mainstream religious worldviews tend to be oversimplifications of the world, full of notions about knowable ultimate good, knowable ultimate evil, knowable steps to perfect redemption or perfect damnation, knowable ultimate standards of conduct, absolute certainty of intuition, &c. -- in general, *the mainstream versions* of religious belief systems are laced with all sorts of notions about absolute certainty in respect to all sorts of things that are in or that impact the real world.  An untenable standard of judgment, natch, since no human knowledge is certain in any "strong" or absolute sense -- human knowledge (including every scientific "fact") is all evidentiary.  Expecting strong certainty creates an impossible standard of judgment.  And when judgment's blocked, one either freezes (takes no action) or flails (takes irrational action, e.g. Crusade, jihad, laying on of snakes, speaking in tongues).

The "out" which many religious Americans take -- these being modern, practical folks who want to retain evidentiary rationality (science and commerce and so forth) but also want to retain religious self-identification (often for social reasons) is simply not to take their religion seriously.  And we've seen this secularization of religion (and clerical criticism of same) since colonial times, and especially in the 19th century (cf T.J. Jackson Lears' history _No Place of Grace_). 

So the hypothesis would be that 1) the more "fundamentalist" or over-simplistic a religious belief system is, the more it will tend to be certaintistic and promote strong certaintism in its core logical tenets; 2) that certaintism will tend to produce irrational action in one of two forms, either a) paralysis or b) hysteria; and 3) that religious worldviews will tend to produce constructive/productive rational action only at their own expense, i.e. when they're held more lightly, relativistically, or in more ad-hoc ways. 

For (2b), easy: fundamentalist religious history is replete with examples of religious mania (crusades, visions, &c.)  The footprint of (2a) is harder to discern, it being a stance of inactivity, but for it see the many descriptions of religion as an "opiate"  (Marx et al), as a tool to inspire social passivity. 

(3) is very interesting because of the way it enters into endless debates about the pragmatic value of religion.  Critics of religion cite (2)-type phenomena; apologists reply with citations of religion's role in social goods: abolitionism, the 1960s American civil rights movement, the doctrine of the soul invoked in humanist democratic constitutions, &c.  Our thesis would suggest that these progressive applications of religiosity emanate from elite sub-groups of educated and enlightened persons within a religious tradition -- not from the more mythological/certaintistic mainstream.  And when you consider who the abolitionists and civil-rights activists WERE, (3) starts to come into focus.  Also recall how religion was invoked by both sides in both conflicts: slavers and white supremacists appealed to religious belief for backing as often (if not more so) than abolitionists and civil-rights activists did. 

This suggests that social conflicts fought with religious weaponry are battles of literary interpretation, entirely secondary to the rational and practical arguments underlying them.  Two points were at stake in the slavery issue, for example: 1) whether it was philosophically justifiable in a democratic society with a Constitution and DOI such as the US' and 2) whether we as a nation were prepared to sacrifice the percieved economic benefit of it.  Christianity had no obvious position in this debate; ergo it could be (and was) cited emphatically by both sides.  And it was appealed to so often -- i.e. the debate was couched so often in religious terms -- because the real terms of the debate were too 1) philosohpically demanding and 2) economically shameful for the average Joe to face them.  Abolitionists and slavers were fighting (as ususual) for the fence-sitters, the middle ground, the swing vote -- and they fought on the distantly removed literary ground of religion because those were the only terms upon which the middle ground would listen to the debate.  But it's totally secondary to the real terms of the question.  Americans gave up slavery when they could afford to: when an industrial economy was showing itself to be ultimately a source of greater profit than a slave-based ag economy could ever be.  People only make lasting human-rights sacrifices when they can afford to.  Bye-bye slavery, hello overseas sweatshop.

Theism and the "pragmatic appeal."

On about god this week! Sorry. From another letter in response to a curious interlocutor. I had mentioned ontology; he, a theist, looked it up and, in doing so, stumbled across Anselm's "ontological appeal," and asked about it. Reply:

"Ontology," in plain language, is the branch of philosophy (as opposed to aesthetics, politics, epistemology, ethics and so forth) that deals with questions about the fundamental nature of the universe and of being. And right again: there are many traditional arguments for the existence (variously defined) of God (also quite variously defined). The "appeal to scripture," for example, is just that: when a religious person cites as evidence the foundational writings in their religious tradition in which god is discussed: a Hindu the Upanishads, a Christian the Gospels, a Jew the Pentateuch, and so forth. (Obviously the appeal to scripture is a weak argument, since the veracity of the claims made in various traditions' scriptures is precisely what's in question.)

The "ontological argument" (for the existence of god) is another one of those arguments. (There's a nice roundup of them at http://www.infidels.org/library/modern/theism/arguments.html . ) The "ontological appeal" is a very shady bit of logical trickery that even most Christian theologians (e.g. Thomas Aquinas, essentially the founder of modern Christian theology) have rejected. It's widely considered to have been substantially demolished by the time of Kant -- mid-1700s. It's a very technical argument, as you'll see from a summation of its history at http://www.iep.utm.edu/o/ont-arg.htm -- very twisted and purely deductive reasoning, which is very typical of the Scholastic thinking of the medieval period which it comes from. (These are the same guys who argued about precisely "how many angels can dance on the head of a pin.") To oversimplify, it boils down to the claim that we can prove that a supreme being exists simply because we can form a concept of one. Obviously, this is a remarkably ambitious claim; it would be the only one of its kind. Because we can imagine an infinite number of things (like horses with wings), but never does our being able to do so IMPLY that those things exist.

You've heard of "intelligent design." The whole squabble about evolution vs. creationism, the Scopes Monkey trial early this century, Dover recently, Kansas Board of Education -- here in Georgia too. "Intelligent design" -- aka "the argument from design" -- is the only argument for the real existence of God with any life in it. I'm not endorsing it; I'm just saying that it's not universally discredited. But most folks feel that David Hume's critique of it (1751) has yet to be overturned. But who today has read or even heard of David Hume, or Immanuel Kant, or Thomas Aquinas for that matter?

In my opinion, the best argument is the pragmatic one ("appeal to pragmatism," "appeal to utility"). It's not an argument for the existence of god, but for the acquiescence to belief in god as a social good. It was very popular in the 19^th century. In short, it says: yeah, we know God probably doesn't exist -- certainly not if what one means by "God" is some anthropomorphic father-figure / tribal-chief figure who dispenses grace and justice. But theistic myths are good: they're philosophy for folks who don't have time for philosophical nit-picking; they're an ethical code for folks who don't have time to be professional ethicists. 'God' is shorthand for truth and beauty and justice and awe and humility: don't knock it." That's the pragmatic appeal. Idealists hate it because it's condescending. Pragmatists like it because they think it works. But when some guys fly a plane into a skyscraper in the name of God -- when a country declares a holy war or "crusade" in order simply to pursue its economic interests -- when someone justifies slavery or fascism with the church's backing -- that that makes trouble for pragmatists.

It's a ripping tough question. I've been wrestling with it, and on the fence about it, for years. Bertrand Russell -- the benevolent-granddad philosopher of the 20^th century -- was very hostile to it. He thought it was cynical and condescending to maintain a double standard -- to say that "what I believe is wrong" is nevertheless "OK for you, because it's all you can handle." But Russell was an aristocrat; he was very naïve about the life of the average Joe. In the trenches, religion can convert fucked-up drunk wife-beaters into loving, productive members of society. I've seen it -- often. Still, one has to wonder: if we as a society put the same force behind a secular moral code -- say, a simple Secular Humanism -- would it have the same persuasive force that religion has, in those trenches? No question that preaching Kant or Mill or Habermas to a fucked-up drunk wife-beater has no effect. But simple cognitive therapy does. What if every church in America were a mild-mannered free therapy clinic, and there were no (insane) stigma attached to therapy? What if magical thinking were stigmatized and common sense was lionized, flattered, celebrated, was treated as sacred, was preached in every pulpit, on TV, was required to get elected President?

Atheism, theism, pantheism, panentheism, trepantheism ...

(Trepantheism is when you believe that god speaks to you via a hole drilled in your skull. Alternately, releasing mental demons via said hole.)

My gentle, caring interlocutor (see previous post) asked me what I meant when I called myself an "atheist" and, in that same communique, identified himself as a "monist or panentheist." To wit:

Atheism: in short, simply non-theist. Theist: in short, belief in an anthropomorphic (key term) supernatural deity. Anthropomorphic: having human qualities, e.g. thought, feeling, consciousness, sympathy, memory, opinion, judgment, &c. Not to mention more flagrantly obvious things like gender. And a robe and beard are RIGHT out. As is the willingness (or refusal) to help a bloke get his girlfriend back.

By that definition, "atheist" doesn't imply anything else, e.g. that the universe is ultimately knowable, that western science is the only method of procuring knowledge, or any of the other positions that are frequently but needlessly attributed to atheism. "Theism" is a well-understood term with a rich linguistic history: western history has no shortage of extremely well-known examples of belief systems built around anthropomorphic deities -- always creator-gods and usually personal-judge-gods. Atheism is simply the rejection of such beliefs. Is it a "certain" rejection? That's a red herring; don't eat it. No human knowledge or belief is certain. Thinking otherwise is simply naïve; notions of absolute certainty (rather than evidentiary reasoning) have been discredited since the Renaissance. Any questions of "certainty" in any strong or absolute sense shouldn't enter into ANYONE's beliefs, theist or atheist or scientific or intuitive or anything else. To say that one is "certain" in any absolute sense about any belief that one can form in the mind or express in language is merely epistemological naivete.

Sorry to harp on certainty, but that's the sticking point for many folks about the term "atheism." They (including many naïve atheists) mistakenly think that "atheism" implies some absolute certainty about the non-existence of anthropomorphic deities, and that thus it's somehow incompatible with agnosticism. False. Atheism is a stronger claim about "gods" than agnosticism is, but it's not an absolute or certaintistic claim. It merely means that there IS evidence -- a LOT, in fact -- against the claims that are frequently made about the existence of anthropomorphic deities. It doesn't mean that these claims CAN'T be true; it means that there's a tremendous amount of reliable, intersubjective, verifiable evidence that they're not. And if one believes that, then to self-identify as "agnostic" -- a more socially palatable term -- is kowtowing to social nicety for self-serving reasons. And while some socially graceful white lies MIGHT be OK, presumably lying about one's beliefs about god/s -- about the ultimate nature of all things -- is not an OK little white lie, since it shows disrespect to the thing demanding more respect than anything we could ever know.

Now, as for monism and panentheism ...

Well, monism is a general term: it simply characterizes the number of irreconcilable first principles that a belief system can be reduced to (or, consequently, the number of irreconcilable categories of Stuff that follow from said first principles). Hard-core scientific materialists are usually monists: everything is ultimately reducible (they might theorize) to one ultimate particle. Hard-core idealists (e.g. Berkeley) are usually monists: everything is an idea in the mind of God. Pythagoras (maybe) is a monist: everything ultimately numbers. Plato's one paradigmatic dualist: there's matter and spirit and the twain shall never meet.

But since "monism" merely characterizes the logical structure of a belief system, it can be applied to various belief systems, not just ontological beliefs (i.e. beliefs about the ultimate nature of being). One can be an ontological monist but an epistemological pluralist, &c. Supposedly. There's also the fascinating question of self-awareness: if one calls oneself monist but acts pluralist -- i.e. doesn't at least strive to apply the same standards of judgment across the board -- what is one? Most Americans (and perhaps most humans) obviously act like pluralists, applying different standards in different situations in a totally ad-hoc way -- and call themselves nothing at all. What are they? Monists? Pluralists? Higher-primate calorie machines?

As for panentheism, well. As an atheist, what's there for me to say about an academic theological argument? Panentheism is merely a version of theism. It might be a more sophisticated one than traditional anthropomorphic theism (i.e. Santa-Claus type foolishness, Jesus helped me win the lottery and so forth) -- but it needn't be. Panentheism (as opposed to pantheism) is a theological debate about whether "God" is immanent-in-but-transcends the universe (panen), or whether "God" is synonymous with the universe (pan). As an atheist (or non-theist or call-it-whatever), this question is at best secondary, since first I need to know what someone means by this "God" that's a crucial part of their belief system. If they mean an anthropomorphic deity (see first paragraph) then I'd say no, I don't believe in THAT, ergo the question of whether this "God" is transcendent or synonymous with the universe don't arise.

Some folks try to weasel out of all this justificatory difficulty by stripping their notion of "God" of any anthropomorphic qualities. A pantheist might (might) make this move. It was a popular move among science-friendly Enlightenment Deists (and others, e.g. many fundamentalist theists): God, they say, is absolutely beyond human experience, completely, and thus not in any way subject to evidentiary reasoning, either for or against. Freud said some very funny things about this stripping away of all attributes from "God" until "God" is nothing more than a wholly empty logical principle. In short, this move "protects" God by claiming nothing of God. Obviously, that won't wash. No theist would be satisfied by a notion of God that knew nothing, did nothing, felt nothing, judged nothing, never acted, never touched or affected any human life in any way. A Zero God is just that: not a "god" in any sense of the word. Not even in any technical sense -- and ABSOLUTELY not in any common sense, because when 99% of people say "god" they mean an anthropomorphic deity that does or did stuff touching human experience in some way. (And of course 98% of the time they mean a LOT more than that. The Christian god, of course, isn't a Zero God at all: for most Christians -- certainly contemporary American ones -- "God" is a notoriously "thick" notion; i.e. they make LOTS of ambitious, specific, testable claims about their god.)

But of course we should say Christian gods, because there's not much that's monotheistic about Christianity -- CERTAINLY not Roman Catholicism. But that's another matter.

Sweet vs. saccharine.

A sweet, gentle and caring interlocutor was recently touting to me the virtues of sweetness, gentleness and caring. "What do you think of that?" they asked. "Pretty cheesy, eh?"

No, actually, I don't think that's cheesy at all. You're (I said to them) very specific, for one thing -- sweetness and gentleness and caring are very specific qualities -- and "cheesiness" is almost always recognizable for its vagueness. Secondly, "cheesiness" means, supposedly, saccharine and sentimental -- in the pejorative sense -- and there's nothing saccharine about being sweet, gentle or caring.

But caring, I think, is the absolute Good among the three -- something everyone should want to aspire to be, if they're paying attention. Who would WANT to be careless? Of course that doesn't mean that a lot of people aren't perfectly willing to stick their heads in the sand and be extremely careless when it suits them ...

Sweetness and gentleness are more situational. There are situations in which it's appropriate to be gentle and sweet, and situations in which it's not appropriate. That doesn't mean that malice is ever called for, but roughness, stridency, bluntness, ferocity? You bet. I strive to be sweet and gentle when it's appropriate, and strive to be strident and forceful when that's what's called for. Teaching's a great model, since it requires you to reach so many -- and so very different -- people in order to do positive good, i.e. enlighten them, sensitize them, reach their hearts and minds. Hearts so often cold and minds closed. Sweetness in the classroom is crucial, no question, but also unquestionably insufficient on its own: sometimes you have to put holy terror into them to wake them from their apathetic stupor. Writing's the same way: to reach and move the reader requires carrots and sticks. But natch: life, thus truth, is such: a mixed bag, sweetness and sorrow. Imagine The Tempest with no Caliban; imagine a piano with no black keys. Life is light and dark in equal parts; ergo truth, life's reflection, must be so.

But Caring (or something like it) must be the constant; there has to be a higher purpose (e.g. enlightenment) behind both gentle and rough gestures. If there's not, we all know what that looks like: sweetness for its own sake is no different from bitterness for its own sake: groundless gestures made for purely aesthetic, self-satisfying reasons. The cheesy Hallmark card and the morbid Goth pose are flip sides of the same worthless counterfeit coin.

This could only be

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Originally uploaded by Patrick Denker

something that happens when one's working on one's dissertation. One suddenly realizes pressing concerns otherwise non-obvious: the pressing need to sweep the porch, the pressing need to fix the sink, the pressing need to set up one's childhood train set.

The boys

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Originally uploaded by Patrick Denker

fully in character.

KSzH BFPK

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Originally uploaded by Patrick Denker

That's right, flip off the cameraman. That's fine, he's an asshole. But you're still barefoot and preggers in the kitchen. Praise Jesus.