Disposing of the Unnecessary.

I am currently working on my final project in my Masters degree. Its focus is how students of the media regard the news coverage of religion. I thought it was an important subject considering how much division there currently is in the media with regard to religion. I am sure I do not need to give you any examples of religious news items as they really cannot have escaped your notice. During this project, I am trying to be as objective as possible and try not to let my personal opinions on the matter show too obviously in my writing. Whether I achieve that or not is yet to be seen. In the meantime I would like to, for purposes of providing full disclosure, explain my position on the idea of religion.

Quite simply, I am an atheist. However, I would probably appropriate the term 'anti-theist' as being more accurate. An atheist could well say that while they do not believe in any higher power, they wish that it was true. I do not. I find it comforting that there is no convincing evidence for such a proposition. I do not, however, claim to know that this is the case. That would make me no better than those who say they know a god does exist. It is for this reason that I harbor no ill-will or contempt for the ideas inherent in deism (of which many of the Founding Fathers of the United States believed in). If someone wishes to call the start of the universe by the name 'god' then by all means. It is only theism that I have an issue with because it has no reasonable defense. I see no evidence for a higher intelligence with an active interest in human affairs, or the idea that the entire universe was created with humans in mind (such an arrogant claim, wouldn't you agree?).

These arguments have been refined a lot in my head over the past few years, but admittedly my desertion of religion occurred much earlier. When I was very small, I was sent to a Church of England primary school. In such an institution, prayers were said daily; hymns were sung on a regular basis; we would be paraded off to Church for all of the Christian holidays (Harvest Festival is the one that sticks in my mind for some odd reason); and a lot of our assemblies would be based on moral lessons from the Bible. I was surrounded by Christian theology five days a week for four years (during which time I never missed a day of school and was rewarded a clock for the achievement). I do not remember any specific occasion when the proverbial light bulb went on over my head and I realized it was all hogwash, but I do remember that even as a child I was unconvinced at the stories I was being told.

This might have something to do with three of my biggest interests at the time: dinosaurs, outer space, and mythology (Egyptian, Greek and Norse were my favorites). All three of these interests must have put holes in my capacity for religious faith. The fact that I was aware that dinosaurs roamed the earth millions of years before the first man had drawn his first breath made the idea of Adam and Eve being created in the planet's first week seem ridiculous (even then I was putting my trust in scientists over clergy. Something I am retrospectively proud of myself for). My fascination with the Solar System and outer space undermined the idea of Heaven being somewhere up. With all that knowledge about outer space (I did not yet, however, appreciate that the more we find out about the universe the less we realize we actually know) that mankind had accumulated, the idea of a man sitting on a cloud seemed childish even to me. Then there was mythology. How I loved learning about the mythologies of past civilizations. It was always my favorite part of the history courses. I did start to notice, with the more myths I read, how remarkably similar some of these concepts and stories were to what I was being taught as religious truth. The first time I saw pictures of Zeus and Odin I can remember thinking both times that they looked awfully similar to how the Christian god is imagined. I appreciate that these are not bold, convincing arguments on their own but to myself as a child they were enough to cast serious doubt into the whole idea of religion and god.

While I think I was a good student for the majority of my time in primary school, I always got the impression that the teachers hated taking me to church, or being around me during the hymns and the prayers. Church bored me. I had no interest in anything that the priest was saying and would often daydream or mess around with friends. I cannot count the number of times a teacher would chastise me while in church for not paying attention and for acting up. I had a similar attitude to the prayers and hymns that were a compulsory part of the schedule: because I regarded these things as meaningless and ultimately pointless I used to entertain myself by changing the words to make them more fun. Of course, being a child, making them more fun meant making them crude. Still, it was clear to me that religion - or more specifically Christianity - was not for me.

I then made something of a tactical error. As religion was not something that was ever really discussed in my house, I had no idea about how to approach it. I did not then realize that for some people religion is a very important part of their lives and would therefore not be too receptive to criticism. This is one of my most vivid childhood memories. My Christian grandmother was visiting us (possibly for Christmas) for a few days. For some reason the family was in the car waiting for someone (probably my mum) to quickly run an errand before going somewhere else. My grandmother mentioned the idea of god and I, unthinkingly, replied "I don't believe in god". I was told that I was far too young to be able to have an opinion of that sort and that I did not know what I was talking about. That incident, I am told, did not endear me to my grandmother and she did not fully forgive me for it for a long time.

It was this experience that helped me realize the significance that religion had in people's lives. From then I questioned whether I had jumped to conclusions on the matter. I stopped thinking about it as a real issue in my life and was essentially an agnostic. I thought that there was no way of knowing either way so I should just leave it at that. I also liked the idea of karma, and that by doing good things and being nice, your life would ultimately get better (I have since discovered that karma is just as big a crock as organized religion, but I digress).That seemed to work out pretty well until I was in university, when two things happened which made me aware of religion once again.

The first, was in late 2005-early 2006, when some cartoons had been printed in an obscure Danish newspaper of the Muslim prophet Muhammad. In response to this, there had been rioting; the burning of the Danish flag (and rather amusingly, the Swiss flag because some Muslim rioters did not know the difference); the torching of Danish embassies; the burning of effigies; and calls for the deaths of those responsible for the cartoons. This was a wake up call for me, as it had demonstrated that there was a cultural war going on between religious fanaticism and the secular world. I was disgusted to find that most 'moderate' religious leaders had not condemned the violence and threats but the cartoons. This just seemed wrong on every possible level to me. I had been increasingly drawn into the news over the past few years with 9/11 and the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq but had not really appreciated the significance or driving forces of these conflicts. The significance was, however, beginning to resonate with me.

The second incident that pushed me towards anti-theism was reading Richard Dawkins' book The God Delusion for the first time. He said in his introduction that he hoped that agnostic readers who picked up the book would be atheist by the time they put it down. I certainly was. I realized that there was no real moral, logical or empirical reason to support the thesis of an intervening deity and that the religious doctrines of the three main monotheisms were not at all moral, but positively wicked. The recommendations of slavery, genocide, rape, incest and pedophilia over the three holy books should be enough to sicken any morally serious person.

Since then I have been reading the books of Christopher Hitchens (a man who I know I have talked about a lot lately so apologies for that) and Sam Harris with regard to religion. I have also gained a greater appreciation for the anti-religious comedy of Bill Maher, George Carlin and Lewis Black (to name three). I harbor no ill-will towards people of faith, providing that they keep it to themselves. I would be happy to debate religion with anyone (one can improve one's own argument more by arguing with someone who disagrees than talking with someone who agrees) as long as they do not try to convert me. I will not be converted. I am, in this respect, a lost cause. For this, I am grateful.

Considering the Implications of the Mortal Coil.

Since learning the sad news that Christopher Hitchens, one of my favorite writers, is suffering from cancer, reading his articles, watching interviews with him on the subject (the latest of which is here), and even coming across the subject during my research project, I have been thinking a lot about mortality. This may seem like a macabre idea to dwell on but the news of Hitchens' condition only illuminates the idea that were are all, essentially, on borrowed time (if you will forgive the cliché). Now I do not wish to simply rehash some of the theological points that I made in a similar post last year, but to take a more personal approach to the concept of mortality.

I have been very fortunate in my life so far in one respect: that I have not yet experienced the death of someone very close and very dear to me. I have, to further this point, never actually attended a funeral. I honestly do not know how I would react or behave at such an event. There have been instances of death in my life but I have been either mentally or physically distant from such encounters. My paternal grandmother, I am told, died while I was alive but because I was so young I did not attend the funeral and do not have any recollection of her. My cousin's first husband very sadly died during my first year of university. Although I was very fond of him, my physical distance from the event and subsequent inability to attend the funeral still managed to play a role in my isolation from the issue. When my now step-dad's father died I was, again, at a physical distance so all I could do was observe the effects the loss had on his family and try to provide some sort of emotional support whenever it was needed. It is because of this lack of experience that really cannot anticipate how I would react to losing someone really close to me.

The prospect of Christopher Hitchens dying will be a real first for me, considering that I have not even experienced the death of a famous person that I genuinely admire. But I do not wish to ring a knell for Hitchens just yet. Obviously I still hope that advances in medicine will prolong his life while eliminating the most of his pain. The way he is dealing with such an objective mind is very admirable, and it makes me consider how I would face the subject of my own mortality.

Death itself holds no fear from me at all. I feel quite comfortable in saying that. Having said it, however, I would like to point out that the prospect of dying does scare me. The process of dying is never something that is pleasant, it holds no real dignity, and it will probably constitute unimaginable pain. There is, I believe, a distinction to be made between the two concepts. Death is the idea of being dead, dying is the process by which one arrives. It is the process that is the scary part for me. I do not, for instance, give any credence to the idea that there is a life after this one. I could well be wrong about that proposition (I am, after all in the lucky minority of people who have lived on this planet who has not yet died), but I have yet to hear a convincing argument in support of such a concept.

The parts about death that do worry me concern its aftermath here on Earth. To paraphrase Hitchens, the idea that I will someday leave the party which will continue in my absence is frustrating to say the least (although being told, regardless of how good the party was, that I could never leave would instantly make it less enjoyable). I wonder about the scientific advances that will be made after I am no longer around to appreciate them. I wonder about the novels that will be written, the films that will be shot, and the Presidents that will be elected. The frustrating thing is that I know there is nothing I can do which will allow me that knowledge, but at the same time I accept that the same rule is true of everyone.

On a more selfish level, I wonder if I will be remembered. If so, by how many people and for how long? Some people live forever through their work, writing or achievements (and I imagine that upon reading this you already have brought several examples to mind so I will not insult you by listing any), but how long can I expect to be remembered before I am just another statistic?

While I appreciate that death is rarely a good thing, I would like to think that mine would produce some help. I am too young to think of making a will, but in the spirit of the limited span that a mortal coil offers I would like to think that after I expire, anything and everything from my body that could benefit the living be stripped out immediately. I have no problems with any part of my future corpse being harvested for the benefit of others, whatever part of it that it may be. Once my body been as useful for parts as it possibly can be, then whatever is left can be cremated or disposed of in whichever way seems appropriate. I have no wish for a headstone or memorial, and have no desire for my remains to be scattered anywhere in particular (to me it just seems like littering). I realize this may be starting to sound morbid but I am trying to approach the inevitable (and it is the only thing in life that really is an inevitability) with as objective a mind as possible.

Mortality is a fascinating subject. It inspires people to perform acts of great good and great evil. It can also inspire (if that is the correct word) total apathy and atrophy. Talking about it is something that I actually find comforting, in an odd way. I continue to hope that I am fortunate enough to delay the first hand experience of dealing with mortality for a long, long time. That said, I know that one day I will have to. It is the ultimate irony of life that no one gets out alive.

The Problem with Herding Cats.

White House Press Secretary Robert Gibbs recently gave an interview during which he complained that the "professional left" was not being supportive enough of the Obama administration; that the administration's accomplishments were not being praised or recognized enough. Apparently, the left (as the Democratic party's base) should just fall in line behind the administration. Wrong, Mr. Gibbs.

Barack Obama was swept into office by a margin of 10 million votes. On top of that he was also handed unprecedented majorities in both Houses of Congress. The American public emphatically decided that they wanted a change in the political direction of their country. The message was clear: the American people strongly preferred the Democratic agenda to that of their Republican counterparts. It was an open invitation to really make some improvements.

Sadly, this invitation was not accepted. Not by the new White House and not by the vast majority of Congressional Democrats. They have been an embodiment of the stereotype: weak Democrats. There was no reason to be weak, the mandate was clear. George W. Bush claimed a mandate when he barely defeated Gore and Kerry in 2000 and 2004, respectively. Despite the much smaller margin of victory, Bush ran the country. He did not sit around and seek bipartisanship on every issue. If he believed something was the right thing to do, he did it. Damn the consequences (admittedly, his ideas were mostly terrible and the consequences have left the country in a much worse condition than when he was inaugurated in 2001). During that time, the right fell in line. They supported the President and would not have a word said against him or his policies.

Mr Gibbs, you cannot have one without the other. You just cannot. You cannot have a weak, pandering President who has caved to the right wing on just about every issue he has been presented with since taking office and still expect the left to simply tow the party line. It is rather admirable of Obama to wish to govern for everyone, really it is. The sad fact is that the right wing is not letting him do that. They are giving him nothing. The Republicans have filibustered just about every single piece of legislation that has passed through Congress since Obama took office. They have sought, and got, concession after concession. Did it help garner any support? Absolutely not. Has Obama changed his tactics? Not enough to notice a difference.

As a result of this meek, tepid strategy of constantly caving to the smallest demands of the right wing (often preemptively), the Stimulus Bill was nowhere near as big as most economists said that it should be (and included the cornerstone of the Republican agenda: tax cuts); the health care system has not been reformed in any meaningful way (instead of starting from single payer and compromising from there, the administration started with a rather pathetic 'public option' and caved in from there); Van Jones and Shirley Sherrod have been forced out of their jobs; Wall Street is still unregulated and the CEOs still have their ridiculously high-paying jobs without so much as a slap on the wrist (without putting in place some real reform the economy is almost certain to crash again. When it does, conservatives will be able to blame Obama); off-shore drilling has been increased (despite the Gulf Coast disaster being an indication of how dangerous it can be); cap and trade seems all but abandoned; those who advocated the use of torture in the previous administration have been left unpunished; and warrant-less wiretapping has continued with no admission that it breaks the rule of law. Other members of "the professional left" would draw also attention to the escalation of the war in Afghanistan as a point of weakness on Obama's part.

This is why the left is complaining. The left is complaining because it is in their right to do so. Obama was elected on a platform of change and yet has provided very little. Yes, the Stimulus bill helped the economy and probably prevented a major depression and yes, there was some progress made in the health care reform struggle but neither were as effective as they should have been. With Obama's constant pandering to those who oppose progress, he is looking very ineffective, which is something that Republicans could punish him for by pointing out (although, for some reason, they seem to be much more fond of scaring white voters into thinking he is a foreign, Muslim, fascist, Marxist, communist, socialist slowly seeking to take over the country and subvert the Constitution).

Mr. Gibbs, you can complain about the "professional left" all you want. The simple fact is that the Obama administration is just not doing enough. I will be one of the first to point out the economic disaster you were handed by your predecessors, but that should be the justification needed to really drive home the importance of doing things differently, rather than an excuse for why nothing significant has yet been achieved. If the Obama administration actually did what it set out to do without folding to the whims of the right at every turn, there would not be nearly as many complaints from the left, despite your contention that "[t]hey wouldn't be satisfied if Dennis Kucinich was president".

Proposing Limited Rights.

I wrote a while back that I consider myself to be a First Amendment absolutist. This is obviously in reference to the First Amendment of the United States Constitution (the first of the ten amendments that are collectively called The Bill of Rights). It was in defense of the cartoon South Park for their depiction of the Muslim prophet Muhammad. I saw this as a freedom of speech issue; something that is unequivocally protected by the First Amendment and as such should be defended as a pillar of American (and to a certain degree Western) principle.

The First Amendment is not limited to freedom of speech and the press though. It also clearly forbids any law that favors one religion over another. The United States government cannot establish a national religion, nor can it interfere with the individual practice of religion. This part of the First Amendment is just as important as the freedom of speech and the press. In fact, it is the combination of all of these factors that makes it such an important amendment and worthy of being the very first.

It is with the idea of being a First Amendment absolutist that I turn my attention to a story that has got American conservatives fuming: the revelation that there are plans to build a Muslim mosque/community center in lower Manhattan, a few blocks away from Ground Zero. One of the most vocal critics of these plans is Sarah Palin, who on Sean Hannity's program said:

I just think this is just one of the worst decisions that ever has been made that will adversely effect New York City. And those innocent victims, those families of those who were killed in the 9-11 tragedy, it saddens me to think that people don't understand what building this mosque at such hallowed ground really represents. The mosque, fine, we are all about religious tolerance, that's what makes America beautiful and free. We're all about religious freedom, but to provoke even more heartache and more division in our country, especially there in New York City, by choosing that specific location, to kind of mark territory with this mosque. I think that it's a knife in the collective heart of Americans who say, "Yeah, build the mosque, but down the road."

Palin tries to conceal her own religiously clouded bigotry by blowing this rather uninteresting and unimportant story out of all reasonable proportion. She claims that she is "all about" religious freedom while advocating the restriction of said freedom for a group that believes differently from her. She either fails to realize or deliberately omits the fact that religion in America is essentially a free enterprise (I suspect she fails to realize considering her laughably poor knowledge of the Constitution as demonstrated throughout the 2008 Presidential campaign and in her new career as professional 'Facebooker'). Building a community center a few blocks from Ground Zero (not actually on Ground Zero as she and other pundits have implied) is not the "knife in the collective heart of Americans". Why is it being built? Could be because there are Muslims who live in the area and a community center seemed like something that would benefit that specific community? According to Palin, no.

I would certainly understand outrage if some fundamentalist, bin Ladenist sect of Islam sought to set up a place to make a shrine out of Ground Zero for their absurd jihad, but that is not what is being proposed here. It is just a community center and mosque for the local Muslim community whose branch of Islam is different from the jihadists and fundamentalists of America's enemy. There should be no controversy here.

Getting back to my original point though, is the idea of religious freedom. It is guaranteed by the United States Constitution. As a result, nothing can be done legally to ban this center from being built. Palin needs to realize that she can say she supports religious freedom all she wants but if she is advocating the restriction on American Muslims to build a place of worship and community she is, by definition, not for religious freedom.

This is the same woman who feels that the laws of the United States are founded on Christian morality (which is, quite frankly, wrong) and that the Bible should be a bigger influence in the U.S. government. I cannot conceal my contempt for how remarkably moronic this woman is. She is a hypocrite who wants special protection for her chosen faith and at the same time limits on another equally ridiculous faith. She clearly has no understanding of the founding of America, and continues to be celebrated for this lack of knowledge by the conservative media. It depresses me that she is considered an influential and worthwhile spokesperson for anything related to U.S. politics. I wonder if her implication that there can be some restrictions to a Constitutionally protected right would hold up when a discussion of the Second Amendment comes up. I think we all know the answer to that.

There is no consistency in the positions this vapid, anti-science, creationist, fundamentalist bigot holds on this issue. Personally, I think all religions are equally wrong and equally stupid (they are not, however, equally violent but that is drifting too far from the point) yet under the American constitution they should all be protected to the same degree. No special treatment and no persecution or restriction should be afforded to any religious group operating within the United States who are not committing any crimes as a group. This mosque/community center should be allowed to be built and used by the people of that community. The reactionary talking points of those on the right (some of whom probably still harbor suspicions that the President is a secret Muslim himself) are, quite honestly, ridiculous.