Rapture Ready

This weekend, it’s supposed to be all over.  Harold Camping of the Family Radio evangelist organization has announced the Rapture for May 21st—at six P.M.

In my own little patch of interest, the SFWA Nebula Awards will be given out this weekend.  If Mr. Camping is right, this will be the last of these.  Going out in grand style, that.

I don’t have a lot to say about this other than it’s silly.  It’s one more reason that makes me wonder about the people who follow this kind of nonsense.  I can’t help but think that, beneath all the sanctimony and babble, a lot of these folks are just, well, unfortunate.  Wishing for it all the Be Over so they don’t have to deal with reality anymore.  Unfair, perhaps, but from my encounters with folks like them over the years I’ll stand by it.  This is the ultimate “grass being greener” thinking and I no longer get angry at the absurdity but feel sad at the wonders they pass up spending so much time anticipating the end of wonder.

On the other hand, I have a pile of work that will take me a lot longer than the next three days to get done.  It would be pleasant, at least for a short while, not to have to worry about it.  But at some point I’d start to resent the interruption.

I asked some Jehovah’s Witnesses once if they ever thanked Zoroaster for the very idea of the Apocalypse and they returned blank stares.  What?  Zoro-who?  After all, they keep coming up with new predictions for something which, according to their founder, Charles T. Russel, should have happened back in 1914.  (This was his final guess after previously predicting Christ’s return for 1874, 1878, 1881, and 1910.)  They got that one wrong, but Russel’s successor, Joseph Franklin Rutherford (who gave the movement the name Jehovah’s Witnesses) revised the date to 1916.  Later it was moved up to 1918, 1925, 1941, 1975, 1984, and 1994. 

William Miller, founder of the Seventh Day Adventists, had predicted the Rapture for 1843 using a complicated bit of figuring based on Daniel.  He revised it to 1844 when the January 1st rolled around and everyone was still here.

More recently, Edgar Whisenant, a former NASA engineer and self-taught Biblical scholar, published a little book, 88 Reasons Why The Rapture Will Be In 1988.  He gave 300,000 copies away for free, but sold 4.5 million.

There were dueling predictions about 1994, one from Pastor John Hinkle of Christ Church in L.A., who claimed June 9th.  Our Mr. Camping held out for September 6.  Obviously he’s revised that estimate.

Still, the one to bet on by virtue of it having been figured by a true mathematical genius remains Sir Isaac Newton’s prediction that 2060 is the year.  No sooner than, Newton claimed.

But then there are the words of Mr. Whisenant to keep in mind: “Only if the Bible is in error will I be proved wrong.”  Might turn out to be that he was the shrewdest of the bunch—unless some of them play the stock market and contrive to short stocks that might fall as Rapture approaches.  For myself, this Saturday is another coffee house at which I’ll be playing music and indulging a different kind of rapture.  Oh, and it will be in a church, in case you’re wondering.  The once-monthly event takes place in a Methodist church in the neighborhood.  So if it comes, I’ll be doing something I love, and that wouldn’t be a bad way to go.

Invisible Women

I’m taking time out (already) from all the rewriting I have to do to complain and restate a principle.

Here’s a lovely little bit of misogyny.

Read the article?  A newspaper took the photograph of the ready room where Obama and his cabinet received the news of Bin Ladin’s death and photoshopped out the women present.  For reasons of “modesty” they claimed.  They then apologized but asserted they have a First Amendment right to have done this.

Inadvertently—and I am sure they didn’t think about this when they did it—they gave Bin Ladin a small cultural victory out of his own death.  The religious view Bin Ladin asserted, supported, and fought for includes the return of women to second class status, to the status of property.  By doctoring that photograph, the editors of Di Tzeitung tacitly approved this idea.

Modesty.  Really?  They erased Hilary Clinton and a staffer in the background.  You look at the photograph in question:

2011-05-02t220238z_01_was100_rtridsp_3_binladen.jpg

Is there any way to look at that and perceive immodesty in the way we usually use the term?  I don’t see any scanty clothing or alluring, over-the-shoulder glances at the camera.  No legs, no cleavage, no hint of sexualization, which is what is normally meant by use of the term, even—especially—within the context of religious censure.  This sort of attitude is intended as a guard against titillation and “impure thoughts”, but I’m having a hard time seeing anything like that here.

In fact, this has made clear what the real problem is and has been all along.  Rules about “modesty” have nothing to do with sex and everything to do with power.  Secretary of State Clinton—the Secretary of State of the United States of America, the most powerful nation on Earth, is a woman!—is a female in a position of power.  She is the boss of many men.  She is instrumental in setting policy, which affects many more men, men she doesn’t know and will never know.  She wields power and that is what is feared by these—I’ll say it because I’m pissed about this—these small-minded bigots.

And in their effort to make sure their daughters never grow up with the idea that they can have power or any kind, not even in the say over what to do with their lives (because they don’t even have any say over how they dress, who they can talk to, where they can go, what they can aspire to), these “proper” gentlemen handed Osama Bin Ladin a final supportive fist bump of solidarity.  “Yeah, brother, we hated the fact that you blew people up, but we really gotta keep these females in their Place.”

Cultural relativism be damned.  I’m one hundred percent with Sam Harris on this.  Subjugating half the population to some idea of propriety and in so doing strip them of everything they have even while hiding them head to toe and keeping them out of the public gaze is categorically evil.  The fact that this is resisted so much by otherwise intelligent people—on both sides of the issue, those who perpetrate it and those who refuse to outright condemn it for fear of being seen as cultural imperialists—is as shameful as the defenders of slavery 150 years ago.

Now, at least, they’ve made it hard to miss.  This wasn’t a photograph of some beauty pageant or a spread in Playboy or the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue; this wasn’t a still from the red carpet runway at the Golden Globes or the lurid front page of a Fleet Street tabloid.  No, this was a photograph of powerful people doing serious work and two of them do not have a penis.  This is the issue—power.  Women the world over have no say in their lives.  They are wives, concubines, prostitutes, slaves.  If they wish to change the way they live, they are forbidden, sometimes killed for their ambition.  In many places still their daughters have their sex organs mutilated so they won’t ever fully experience sexual pleasure and, theoretically, never want to stray from the men who own them.  They are denied the vote, denied a voice, denied even the courtesy of Presence in life.  They are made background, wallpaper, accoutrements for  the men who are set against yielding even a token of consideration toward the idea that “their women” are people.

People who happen to be women.  People.

I am sick of this crap.  I am sick of people who don’t understand the issue.  I am sick of the tepid response among people who should see this as an unmitigated evil who won’t speak up to condemn it outright.  By their reluctance to condemn they allow this sickness to grow in their own backyard.  There are groups in this country who but for a few “inconvenient” laws would—and in some cases do—treat women exactly the same way.  I am sick of the constant onslaught on family planning services and the idea that women should not be in command of their own bodies.  I am sick of the feckless insecurity of outwardly bold and inwardly timid males who are afraid of the women around them, that if these women actually had some choices they would leave.  I am sick of men who can find no better use for their hands than to beat women, no better use for their minds than to boast of their manliness, and no better use for their penises than to keep score.  I am sick of women who are made to appear at fault for their own rapes because of the way they dress or walk or talk or because they thought, just like real people, they had a right to go anywhere they chose, free of fear.  I am sick of seeing the human waste of unrealized potential based on genital arrangement and the granting of undeserved rights and authority based on the same thing.  I am sick of being told by people who obviously haven’t stepped outside of their own navels that this is what god wants because some preacher or imam or shaman told them and they like the idea that there is someone who can’t say no to them no matter how abusive or failed they are as human beings.  I am sick of seeing women pay the cost of men deciding for them what they should be.

For those of you who read this and agree, excuse the rant.  Shove it in the faces of anyone who gives even lip service to the idea that women are somehow other than and less than males and that maybe a little “modesty” would be a good thing.  Modesty in this context is code for invisibility.

Back now to our regularly scheduled Wednesday.

“I do not like Home School and Ham…”

Ken Ham is the head of Answers In Genesis, an organization that promotes and perpetuates the Creationist view that the Earth is less than ten thousand years old, that homo sapiens sapien  trod the same ground at the same time as dinosaurs, the the story of Noah is literally true, and that evolution is All Wrong.  He’s an Australian and a biblical literalist.  He built the Creation Museum in Petersburg, Kentucky, in 2007.  Check the link for an overview by an (admittedly) biased source, but for simple clarity is hard to beat.  It is a fraud of research, flagrantly anti-science, and laughable in its assertions (in my opinion).

Ken Ham is one of the more public figures in our current national spasm of extreme religiosity.  He’s attempting to have built another show-piece in Kentucky, a theme park based on Noah and the Flood.  The problem with this, however, is that tax dollars are being used in its construction and it is a blatantly religious enterprise.

In the meantime, Ken Ham and Answers In Genesis have recently been disinvited from a conference on homeschooling.   There are multiple ironies in this, especially since, on the face of it, Ham and these particular homeschoolers would seem to be sympatico on the issues.

Be that as it may, it prompted me to make a couple of observations regarding this whole phenomenon.  According to the Home School Legal Defense Fund,  homeschooling is a growing practice.

it is estimated that the annual rate of growth of the number of children being homeschooled in the U.S. is between 7% to 15%. Reports from 1999 determined that approximately 850,000 American children were being home schooled by at least one parent. This number increased again in 2003, to over one million children, according to the National Center for Education Statistics National Household Education (NHES). NHES compiled data showing that in 2007, over 1.5 million children in the U.S. were home schooled.

There are several reasons for this, but the most stated are:

Religious or moral instruction 36%

School environment 21%

Academic instruction 17%

Other 26%

Questions of violence, socialization, academic standards, and related issues play into these decisions.  Not all homeschooling is, as is popularly thought, conducted for religious reasons, but certainly religious homeschooling gets the lion’s share of the publicity.

I have the same reservations about homeschooling as I have with special private schools that seek to isolate students from the wider community.  Despite the problems with “the world” to put an informational barrier between a child and that world can put that child at a disadvantage later.  But I can’t argue with the sentiment that many public schools are dysfunctional and do a disservice to students.  The 17% of the sample opting for homeschooling for academic reasons probably have concerns with which I’d agree.

The more people pull their children out of public education, though, the less incentive there is to fix that system.

I’m torn on this.  I’m largely self-educated.  But the foundation of my education was laid in public schools (K through 4th in public school, second half of 4th through 8th in parochial school, 9 through 12 in public high school).  I had many problems with school when I was in it, and later, upon review, some of those issues I decided were justified.  I certainly felt at the time better read than my English teachers.  (This was a false impression based entirely on the syllabus they were allowed to teach.  I was certainly better read than the syllabus.)  There were distortions in all my history classes, some of which I took issue with at the time.  The administrative side was annoying and the classes I would have desired to take were either truncated or unavailable.  I got most of my education from books read on my own initiative.

But that doesn’t mean this is in any way a recommended program for most students.  Part of the academic experience is and must be socialization (although I firmly believe most of the problems we have with public education today stem from the fact that in America the primary purpose of school has always been socialization, often at the expense of academics, and we’re paying for this unacknowledged fact today).

What profoundly disturbs me about the 36% of those who homeschool for religious reasons is precisely the problem presented by people like Ken Ham.  Parents who reject science as an enemy to their religious beliefs do neither their children nor this country any good by isolating their children and inculcating the distorted views presented in the name of some sort of spiritual decontamination.  What these parents wish to tell their kids at home is their business—but there is also a vast pool of legitimate knowledge about the world which needs to be taught if these kids are to have any chance at being able as adults to make reasoned and rational choices, for themselves and for their own children and for the society in which they live and work.  Few parents have either the time or the training to do this, at least in my opinion, whether they are certified or not, simply because they are only one voice.  Much education happens in the crossfire of ideas under examination by many.  The debate that happens in a vibrant classroom setting is vital to the growth of one’s ability to think, to analyze, and to reason.  The by-play that will likely not happen between dissenting viewpoints or between different apprehensions of a topic won’t happen in isolation.

Ken Ham tends to bar outside viewpoints when he can.  He has a history of banning people from the Creation Museum when he knows they are antagonistic to his viewpoint.  In the face of overwhelming evidence, he tries to assert a reality that has long since been shown to be inaccurate.  That he was barred from a conference of folks who will then educate their children in those same inaccuracies is an irony of epic proportions.  But, as they say, what goes around, comes around.

The Debate: part seven

In an earlier post on this topic I made the claim that the thing which changed everything in this country was the rise of capitalism as the dominant economic model.  It’s time to make good on that claim.

Firstly, we need to understand, once and for all, just what Capitalism is and how it is misunderstood in these sorts of discussions.

Capitalism is an umbrella term used to describe a variety of practices under one general heading, practices like mercantilism, industrialization, and interest-based lending.  But to be precise, all these different practices overlap but are not themselves capitalism.

Capitalism is the strategic use of money to determine the value of money and thereby transfer latent wealth from one sector of an economy to another.

This simple distinction does much to explain the animosity throughout the 19th Century toward any kind of centralized bank, including the Jacksonian war on the United States Bank, and Jeffersonian suspicion of corporate power.  It is nothing less than the ability of a small group to determine the value of local currency and the buying power of a community, all through the manipulation of currency exchange markets (like Wall Street), regardless of intrinsic values of manufactures and production.

But we have so conflated this with all other aspects of our much-vaunted “free” enterprise system that to criticize capitalism is seen as an attack on the American Way of Life.  It is not.  Although many Left attacks on it become hopelessly mired in broad attacks on wealth, it is not so much an attack on wealth per se—that is, wealth based on the prosperity of a community—but wealth derived at the expense of the community.

Which is what we are seeing take place today.  Which has taken place often in our history.

The difficulty is, this has been one of the most successful economic systems ever for creating prosperity, especially for the individual who understands it and works it, and, if properly regulated, has been the foundation of American achievement, at least materially.  So any critique can be made to seem like a critique of America itself.  This fact has been useful to plutocrats defending their practices against attempts to rein in and control abuses.  The coupling of what in extremes are parasitic practices of economic pillage with grass roots patriotism has been the most difficult combination to deal with in our history.  In its contemporary guise, it couches itself in an argument that socially responsible community-based efforts to address economic and resource inequality are Socialist and therefore fundamentally un-American.  This is historically inaccurate and strategically manipulative, but the bounds between the anti-federalist sentiments that began even before the revolution and became quasi-religious among certain groups in the aftermath of the Civil War are many and strange and need teasing apart to understand.

The central myth of our national ethos is this: an American is self-made, independent, capable all on his own of creating his life and success and by virtue of a unique freedom from government interference has made a success not only of his personal life but of the country as a whole, being a nation comprised of millions of separate, vital, omnicompetent, self-motivated, natural-born geniuses.  The fact that the frontiers have generally been initially settled by independent people who faced the challenges with little or not help from a central government, and that many if not most of them succeeded in creating viable homesteads that eventually melded into vital and prosperous communities feeds this myth with the substance of reality, although never a reality consistent with the myth.  Through successive waves of redefintion as each frontier became “back east” how the myth played out in the popular imagination changed while leaving intact the core idea that an American builds his life all on his own and the worst thing that could happen was for a government to interfere with that process.

The reality was always different.  We could examine the process of frontier community building in detail and find variations, but a constant has always been the call for military aid in confronting Indians and the second generation establishment of courts of law enforcement as quickly as possible once something resembling a town emerged.  The “independence” was in force only until such time as a community identity developed that could collectively request all the services these settlers were presumably fleeing in their westward quest.

Because the fact was, what these people overwhelmingly were doing was going in search of independent wealth—not here defined as a capacity to own their own leisure but rather the ability to provide a dependable source of provender and security.  They came for the land.  They came to be free of eastern industrial wage-penury.  They came to own something outright.  But most recognized they could not be secure in that ownership without the body of law and the structure of government to defend it, maintain it, and make it viable over many generations.  While it may be true that some groups fled the east to get away from certain government practices, the fact remained that as soon as they could they erected a government, taking those elements they thought workable and, hopefully, leaving out what they disliked.  Eventually, it emerged that they needed much more of what they left behind than perhaps they originally thought—but the whole purpose of petitioning for statehood, which was a popular movement, was to secure the benefit of federal laws that sometimes restricted the abuses of territorial governments but brought the benefits of a national law system that was seen as superior to local, often improvised, systems.

Perhaps the epitome of the independent American in popular myth is the Mountain Man.  But even here, a close examination shows that the most prominent and successful of these apparent hermits were anything but social self-exiles.  Many were educated businessmen.  They hazarded extreme hardship and risk to bring to market products they expected would bring high prices.  They depended absolutely on the communities popular fiction suggests they had no use for.

This is not to say there were no such men of lore, but they were singular examples and not an example of the norm.  To suggest that our national economy and politics should be constructed to accommodate their example is absurd, but it seems that is often what the Right is suggesting.

However, despite the trend, there were and are pockets of entrenched resentment to any and all government.  I have identified sources of these strains—political, religious, and economic.  They feed into a river of anti-federal thinking that is often simply contrarian, but not to be lightly dismissed. Many of these can be loosely described as Libertarian, but even that can be deceptive.

The threads are these:

Because of British law that forbade westward settlement and then imposed taxes on unrepresented colonists, a strain of resentment toward government that seemed to favor external concerns over citizen’s concerns fed into the break with England.

Because of Alexander Hamilton’s experiment in internal taxes and community engineering to establish a national industrial base at the expense of subsistence enterprise, there developed a suspicion of all central government and taxes.

Because of the Millennarian nature of many of the religious movements in America, parallel ethics developed—one that tied Christian probity and salvation to hard work and disinterested success, the other that elevated moral prerogatives above secular law and rejected interference from the larger community in matters of law, behavior, and individual rights.

Because of the perceived imposition of modes of living and commerce by the North on the South after the Civil War, a pool of entrenched resentment toward federal governments was created that worked continually against the hegemony of Washington D.C.

These threads, combined with the myth of the American, created a large, often disparate, and usually unorganized base of people poised to resist anything that smacked of a national paradigm emerging from the federal government.  Along with this you can add intransigent tax rebels, racists, and a vein of self-educated conspiracy theorists, all of which adds up to an ill-defined but persistent Right at the grass roots level.

The recent element is organization.  From the mid Seventies on we have seen a growing coalition of all these disparate groups into a unified block that has consistently voted Republican.  Since the mid Sixties and Johnson’s revolutionary civil rights activism drove the Southern Democrats to join and become a large part of a diminished Republican Party, the core of of the Right have sought a base from which to attack liberalism in general, social reconstruction in particular, and a little more than a decade after the passage of the Civil Rights Act they found their core constituency in the Moral Majority, which combined most of the religious components of a revitalized conservatism.  Under Reagan, who successfully rallied the anti-federal sentiments—government is the problem—these religious reactionaries joined the fiscal conservatives and the anti-federalists to become the foundation of our contemporary, ever-more reactionary Right.

What has happened since Reagan, however, is even more troubling.  What began in many instances as a grass roots reaction to government and social change has been manipulated by the moneyed interests to target government regulation and tax structures that barred corporate pillage.  By feeding an angry voter block with the idea that their causes are one with the top two percent, they have successfully distorted the national dialogue to their advantage to undo decades of financial regulation and now are mounting a growing and evermore successful attack on all manner of collective activism that traditionally protects and promotes the interests of working class and middle class people.

The historical roots beneath all these different conservative groups extend back to the beginnings of our history, but never before have they all been so successfully merged into a solid block of voters.  But any legitimacy these ideas may have had has been corrupted by the usurpation of corporate manipulation.

The question needs to be asked—if, as it is believed by these groups, big government is a fundamental problem, how is it any different in the case of big corporations?  It would seem obvious that the operative word is Big.  Some corporations, multinationals all, have achieved such a size as to function as de facto nation-states.  Except for the fact that they have no national boundaries, they meet all other criteria.  Yet no one seems to be addressing this reality.

Another question—if it is the desire of the Right that government be stripped of its ability to address equity issues, who then will do that work?  Because the government stepped in initially because no one else could.  Arguments over the ethics of states’ rights fall when it is remembered that states did not address civil liberties issues.  It required federal intervention to assert what should have been recognized as not only the law of the land but common decency in matters of race, gender, and economic disparity.

A final question for this present essay—why is it that people who are losing ground economically, socially, and institutionally seem so willing to vote against their own interests in support of a false representation of what America is?  That is a more difficult question to answer and I will not here attempt to do so.  In this and the last six posts I have laid out the historical threads of the Right’s current manifestation.  Conclusions may be drawn from there.

I will address one thing here.  I said corporate pillage.  We have been witnessing since the Eighties large and growing transfers of wealth from the community to private hands.  We have been told that these transfers have been necessary to keep our private institutions from collapsing and causing even more havoc.  In a case by case analysis, there may be some truth in certain instances, but overall this has been a con.  I say this because the transfers came largely with no conditions on the recipients and practices which produced and exacerbated the calamities of 2008.  To pay for these transfers, the Republicans have waged a persistent and successful battle to defund and end programs which they claim we cannot afford.  Here, however, is a chart that shows the dollar-for-dollar transfers.  However one may feel about the nature of the programs affected, it is obvious that this is in no way to the general taxpayer benefit.  This is all special interest, corporate plunder, and in return programs that enable the possibility of social equity and potential upward mobility among struggling Americans are put in jeopardy.  When the Right bleats about class warfare, here is where it is actually being waged.

The issue of tax fairness is a constant in this country.  In the last few decades, the rhetoric has been added about who is benefiting and why certain people have the right to benefit from “my” taxes.  It sounds like an equity issue.  But the way it plays out is an excuse to extract wealth from the community.

Let me explain.  It has to do with a concept called latent value.

Latent value can best be understood as the wealth held in reserve, stored, if you will, after periods of labor to build.  “Unmarketed” value, so to speak.  We tap into this each time we take out a home equity loan.  The assumed value of your property is used as collateral to guarantee the fungible manifestation of the loan.  We have paid into the property over years.  More than that, we have maintained it, added on, upgraded, taken care of it to maintain or improve that value.

The same is true for entire communities and a business taps into that latent value when it opens its doors.  It hires people from the community, relies on the roads, the electricity, water, sewer services.  It utilizes local government offices for licensing, inspection, zoning.  It depends on the laws of that community to protect it from arbitrary attack, it uses the banks to underwrite its operations, and on and on.  The community as a whole is a resource and it “lends” part of its latent value to the business.

In return, that business owes it to that community to add to its latent value.  This is done in a variety of ways, including taxes that can be used to maintain or add services and infrastructure for public use.  If all works as it should, the business gets to generate a profit from what it does and the community gets value added from the new activity.  Both benefit.

That has in many instances changed.  At a certain level, there has been a de facto repudiation of this relationship on the part of business.  Some of this has always been the case, but it has not reached such criminal levels since before the Great Depression.

What is happening now is that business is extracting wealth from the community.  It is leaching the latent value out of the community.  This is sometimes known as “WalMart Syndrome.”

Let me describe it as it happens in business.  Say Company A comes in and buys Company B.  Company B has existed for decades, it has a successful product, employs a few hundred people, but has recently been struggling (or, what is ever more common, it has gone public and the shareholders are not happy with their returns).  Company A is in a position to acquire it.  This could be a good thing—with the greater resources of Company A, Company B could once more become healthy, and continue on.  That is, if Company A is at all interested in continuing Company B for the profits is generates as a going concern.  (Please note—there are many Company A’s who do just that, take a struggling smaller firm, fix it, and make it profitable again.  I stress this point because I want it clear that this system can work.  What more often happens is not necessary!)

However, the aim of Company A is to extract the latent value out of Company B as quickly as possible.  The operations are reorganized.  Maintenance is cut back to the bare minimum and in some instances eliminated completely.  Staff is laid off.  Production is increased.  The cost of manufacturing is drastically lowered per unit.  As things break, they are not replaced.  The good name of Company B continues to sell the product on the open market until it becomes clear that all the cuts have resulted in an inferior product.  When gross sales dip below a certain level, the company is shut down, everyone laid off, and the remaining stock sold as salvage.  Company B is destroyed, but before it is gone the wealth is has built up, latent in its very substance, has been extracted in short order by Company A and added to its bottom line.

All this is driven by shareholder and corporate greed.  No investment is made in Company B at all and in the process a great many workers lose employment, and, depending on the size of the community in which Company B exists, the local town may be terribly crippled.

The continual assault on taxes with the concomitant bribery by communities to attract businesses that then fail repeatedly to invest in that community even while they use the resources—the latent value—of that community is exactly the same process and it is tearing this country down.

It is not Socialism that we expect investment that seeks to raise the standards and expectations of the people in general, and the payment of taxes, horribly distorted because of the special deals made to a small number of extremely rich entities, is not punishment but a way to raise the value of the whole.  We are no longer a frontier country.  That mythology is being used to convince people to vote in such a way that the latent wealth embedded in our national fabric can be more easily converted into transferable funds and extracted by those with no sense of responsibility to anyone but themselves and their own class.  (And not even each other—at this level, they will pillage and ruin one of their own just as readily as an essentially defenseless middle class or poor community.)

Because the strains of historical animosity and intransigence that have existed throughout the two plus centuries of our existence, the Right has managed to codify and effective propaganda campaign to destroy essentially progressive, socially responsible government, all to the benefit of a class that may well establish themselves as a new aristocracy, with feudal powers.  The only thing that is enabling all this is superior organization and obsessiveness.

It should be obvious by now that all this Right wing activism has nothing to do with anyone’s rights.  Everything that functionally protects the rights of people who do not own their own wealth—in other word, the ninety-five percent of us who work for a living because we can’t live on the interest from our holdings—is under attack.

But the one thing that needs to be understood in all this is that to push back is not to repudiate the idea of American success.  Making money, succeeding, is not at issue.  What is at issue is a resurgent capitalism that no longer has a country.

The Debate: part five

The fervor with which assaults on liberalism are launched of late possess a zealotry difficult to understand in any reasonable sense.  There is a religious element to it, a battle of ideologies that seem to leave the precincts of fact, data, and logic very quickly, often on both sides.  The inability of Left to talk to Right is the equivalent of the sectarian babbling between any two apparently irreconcilable religious groups, both of whom insist on their point of view being not only correct but the only one.

After decades of more or less rational political discourse in this country, many people have been caught completely by surprise at the level of bitterness that, upon examination, seem unsupportable by the issues (with the possible exception of abortion—but even that is ramped up far more than it ought to be given the middle ground of contraceptive use).

Where did this come from?

Once more, we look back to the early republic.

When claims are made that this was established as a Christian Nation, such claims are both right and wrong. Wrong in that the structure of law and institutions created in the aftermath of the revolutionary war are the most secular such governmental constructs ever created. The establishment of the United States as a nation is not Christian or any other religion, and this was done very intentionally. More, perhaps, as break with all European traditions in which religion was politicized and churches were arms of the government, conjoining common faith with political hegemony, but nevertheless those who claim that the United States, in the form of the Constitution and the subsequent offices and conduct, was established as a Christian edifice are flat wrong.

However, the fact that this was a country of Christians is undeniable and the fervor of religious embrace was profound.

The old grade school lesson that the first colonists came here to escape religious persecution is mostly true.  It doesn’t go quite far enough, though, and explain that these religious exiles were themselves probably more religious than the states from which they fled, states where religious observance was akin to a loyalty oath.

Which is, of course, how you get debacles like the Salem Witch Trials where you might expect a more rational approach.  The Enlightenment veneer that overlay the revolutionary period and informed the political philosophy that manifested in the Constitution was pretty much just that—a veneer.  City-bound for the most part, once you got out into the hinterland, on the frontiers, religious sentiment was a living, breathing reality that was as if not more important than any political principles in currency at the time.  For many Americans of that generation, Liberty meant the freedom to worship God without a bishop or priest telling you where, when, or how.

Coming to North America must have been a surreal experience for these people.  They had come from a crowded, dirty place—just about any city in Europe at that time—where they had constantly to worry about the next upheaval that would require a realignment of political (and sometimes religious) affiliations.  Disease, high mortality, sometimes opulent wealth within walking distance of soul-crushing squalor.  But for the most part a world that had become and was becoming more urbanized.  Making landfall in the New World must have been like time travel, taking them back to a primeval land of myth.  No buildings, no roads, nothing to indicate human beings had ever been there, huge, dense forests undisturbed by the axe.

Many brought with them a full suite of superstitions about old forests and just trying to live here must have required unbelievable courage—or unimaginable desperation.  But they made a go of it, cut some trees down, built the first villages, and after a hundred years the east coast was beginning to look a bit like the world they had left.

But in pushing back that frightening forest they had clung to their faiths and relied on it hourly.  Many early colonists believed Satan lived in those forests, and certainly many of the encounters with the near-naked natives who didn’t seem to know the first thing about God or Jesus did nothing to dissuade them of that idea.  Pushing that forest back was not only consistent with their belief in Improvement but necessary to keep the devil a little further away.

By the mid 18th Century, The Great Awakening gripped the colonies, a series of revival movements spurred by open-air preaching based on emotional reactions to arminian accommodations embraced by the seaport cities that were becoming comfortable with material success.  In a way it was a repeat of the movement that caused early pilgrims of Presbyterian and Calvinist theologies to cross the Atlantic in the first place.  The daily struggle against the unknown happening in the rural frontiers was poorly served by churches that preached a moderate, calming theology with a God that seemed less and less concerned with sin in the face of worldly success.  What happened in the hinterland evoked comparisons to the “heretical” movements of the Middle Ages which the Catholic Church worked to subdue and ended up with in the massive splits of the Reformation.

In his examination of the market phenomena that defined much of the early Republic, The Market Revolution,  Charles Sellers writes:

“Our secular mythology renders almost incomprehensible the religious mythology that organized experience for early rural America.  The gnostic cosmology and stoic resignation of peasant forebears, who likewise lived at the mercy of nature and invoked its fertility with daily labor, sacralized the behavioral norms demanded by the subsistence mode of production…for centuries peasant animism had magicalized the patriarchal Christian God who reconciled Europeans to hazards of weather, terrors of plague, and exactions of fathers and rulers.  The Protestant Reformation revitalized this magical patriarchalism to cope with the Old World market’s initial surge.  The awesome Jehovah proclaimed by Geneva’s Protestant theologian John Calvin was brought to the New World by uprooted emigrants and preached from Congregational meetinghouses of New England Puritans, the Presbyterian kirks of the Scotch-Irish, and the Reformed churches of Germans, Dutch, and French Huguenots.  Calvinism’s thrilling promise of divine encounter sacralized deep springs of animistic magic and mystery to arm rural Euro/Americans with invidious power against capricious fate.  The more vividly they felt Jehovah’s omnipotence, the safer they felt in a hazardous world.”

Preachers like George Whitefield and Jonathan Edwards took the Message to the wilderness, creating a surge of revivalist meetings that poured from New England southward, sweeping rural populations into the fold of highly emotional religious experiences, complete with swooning, ecstasies, visions, possibly glossolalia, all of which offended the stabilizing, order-hungry seaboard churches which reacted both from the pulpit and legislatively, fueling the growing political embrace of strict separations of church and state.

By the time of the revolution, although the revivalist movements had fractured and splintered into numerous disputatious denominations, a basic sympathy existed informing all of them with the idea that God was not the property of the government, that in fact God disapproved of governments that interposed law between individuals and what they perceived as the natural right to encounter creation without intermediary or interpretation.  (This latter sentiment came to inform the idea that the government should, in fact, say nothing whatever, pro or con, regarding religion, and ought to remove even the appearance of favoritism toward either specific faiths or religious experience in general.)  A tremendous pool of resentment toward the government on this issue rippled beneath the surface of all other resentments that combined to cause the break with England.  The colonial governments were often seen as collusive with the King’s government in this regard and there was no doubt an expectation that this would be redressed once independence was achieved.  (It took a while—direct state sponsorship of certain churches did not end for some time, although the federal government had removed itself from such connections.)

It was the Second Great Awakening, which began after the establishment of the United States and ratification of the Constitution that created the odd coupling of capitalist zeal and religious fervor.  Competing traditions, old and new, sought to achieve dominance in a rapidly expanding nation that quite obviously embraced worldly success as a natural right, one of the chief goals of the revolution.  In Europe, the established churches, as arms of the state, muffled themes of denouncing the world and its attributes, a trend that could be trace all the way back to the first establishment of Christianity as the dominant religion of Rome.  Governments did not wish to discourage wealth-building because this was a source of political power.  The older churches had long since found accommodation with attention to money and rarely preached against self-improvement, at least among the merchant classes.  This same trend was taking place in America where seaboard financial dynasties were emerging and the class-free society that had been in place in practice if not legally for a long time promoted wealth-building across all social lines.  Interest in salvation appeared to wane with the rise of temporal comfort.

The successors of Edwards, Samuel Hopkins and Timothy Dwight in particular, wrestled with the fact that mercantile growth was inevitable and followed the frontier like a wave, and with it a, to them, diluted religious apprehension known as Deism.  Deism was an Enlightenment accommodation which greatly diffused religious experience, rendering it almost a wholly philosophical matter rather than one of spiritual rebirth.  It was Deism that permitted the Founders to avoid the question of a national religion in drafting the Constitution—a movement hard to argue with given the antipathy of the rural settlers to any state sponsored church—but which the inheritors of Calvin found spiritually troubling.  They feared an abandonment of Christianity as worldly success and comfort grew.  The Second Great Awakening restarted the revivals, took them further west, and south, as a firebreak to a perceived ambivalence to spiritual matters in the east.

The central difficulty of keeping religious ethics in the face of successful nation-building affected both traditions and the older churches, in New York and Boston, adopted some of the rhetoric of what was called the New Light, and took advantage of the new printing technologies to create the first wide-spread Bible and Tract Societies.  For a time, Bibles were the largest selling book throughout America because they were the cheapest, along with the tracts accompanying them.  Mass printing drove the price per copy down drastically and endangered all other forms of popular publishing except newspapers.

The battle was between Enlightenment rationalism—which was concerned with man’s rights in this world, now—and the emotionalism of Millennarian religious experience, which proclaimed that the concern must be on the state of the soul for the next world.  In Europe a similar confrontation was occurring which would result in the rise of Romanticism—a more or less secular embrace of emotionalism over rationality—while here is resulted in an entrenched Evangelicalism, centered not on the primacy of sentiment and emotionalism concerning the self and the world but on the emotionalism found in a rebirth in God.

The accommodation that emerged was one that coupled all the driving ambition of worldly success with a strict self-abnegation—temperance, chastity, and a severe scrupulousness in business—that made the only sanctified outlet of worldly ambition the very success in business that had a generation before been seen as the biggest threat to spiritual matters.

This engendered a reversal of certain themes—for instance, the Millennium, the return of Christ to Earth, now became something that had to happen before Jesus came back, not when—but the success of this led to half a century of expanding church attendance and the growing influence of religion in political movements, i.e. abolition and temperance.

What this meant for our present examination is that a pool of religious sentiment tied to Millennarian anticipation, rejection of rationalism, and an embrace of antinomianism (the belief that one can be so possessed of grace/salvation that manmade laws no longer apply) became a popularly maintained constant.  The antipathy against government is fed by this select exceptionalism to give this group a belief in the rightness of their cause from a source irredressable in secular institutions.

The 19th Century is littered with small groups of religious isolates who chose westward migration rather than life under a growing secular government.  Most failed, but some became notable successes—the Mormons for one—but by and large all these groups have been partially absorbed into mainstream American life.  They bring these traditions with them, of course, just as any other self-identified group does.

What effect this has in practice is a manifestation in the belief in a higher law that overrides the legislative, judicial, and common law and seeks to challenge institutions on the basis of what could be seen as a “natural law” position.  At almost every turn, with a few prominent exceptions, this has been a defense of status quo not politically so much as culturally.  (On both sides of the slavery issue we find strong, entrenched religious sentiment dictating moral positions.  While abolition can be seen as revolutionary, at base it was very much a defense of the doctrine of voluntary salvation and the denigration of “worldliness” by people from a Congregationalist-Puritan-Quaker tradition.  However, the net effect was revolutionary.)

I’ll go over what this means to us today in the next part.

Dust Motes

Cleaning my office, which serves double duty as a guest room.  We have company coming in this weekend and that’s always a good excuse to clean up.

So while I’m moving things around, listening to very loud music (Deep Purple, Who Do We Think We Are? which I think is one of the great underappreciated rock’n’roll albums of all time), thoughts are buzzing around my head.

Already this morning I posted a response to someone on a group discussing Science vs Religion—a topic fraught with the potential for all kinds of angsty in-your-face defensiveness—wherein I once more found myself in the position of turning an argument around on someone who had decided that I had insulted him by insisting on evidence and common sense and the practice of looking at alternative explanations that might undercut a cherished experience.  In this case, we were discussing ghosts.  When I pointed out that the described experience fit well with what is known as hypnogogic hallucination, I was summarily told that if I said that to the experiencer’s face, I’d likely get a kick in the groin.  Hardly a mature response.

But then it went on to question why someone like me—a materialist—can’t just stop being insulting by insisting that what people experience is explicable in material terms.  It never seems to occur to some people that every time they tell me that I need Jesus or that I’m bound for hell or that my life must be empty and meaningless because I don’t believe in god, that they are being insulting to me.  Built into this level of religiosity is the automatic assumption that they’re right and I’m wrong and that’s the end of it.  They don’t see this as hubris or arrogance because it comes from, they believe, an outside source—god or whatever—and that all they’re doing is conveying the message.

Well, sorry.  We can all be arrogant on someone else’s behalf and beg off the charge of arrogance because we’re just the messenger.  Displacing responsibility for being rude and offensive is a handy dodge—oh, it’s not me, it’s The Lord’s word!—but the fact remains, you choose to hand out the insult.  That you don’t see it that way is forgivable until it has been pointed out to you how it’s insulting.  After that, you’re just being an ass about it.

This is not to say people can’t discuss this without being insulting.  I have a few friends who are devout believers and we often bandy the philosophy without ever getting personal or insulting.  I have to say, though, that without those few people who are demonstrably intelligent about the subject, I would probably categorize all such folks as raving loonies with poor social skills.

To be fair, I know some atheists who are just as offensive.  And while I can understand where it comes from, it never wins any points.

I try—and I’m only human, so lapses occur—ardently to deal with the subject, not the individual.  There does come a point when the question arises “Why do you believe this stuff?” and it does veer off into the personal.  But it’s the ideas I criticize, not the people.

Unless by acting upon their beliefs they cause harm.  Then I get personal.  Boy, do I get personal!

Insulated religious communities, such as some of the splinter Mormon sects who practice polygamy, as far as I’m concerned, are deluded.  Not because they believe in god, but because they feel that belief gives them leave to treat certain people like shit.  Mainly women, whom they view as property.  These little pockets are, for all intents and purposes, little feudal kingdoms with one or a few men at the top dictating to the rest.  I understand the leaders well enough—no matter how they couch their justifications, they are power-hungry bigots who’ve figured out how to feed their addictions.  What I fail repeatedly to understand are all the others who follow them.  What drives someone to surrender their conscience, their will, their choices to be ruled over by a self-serving tyrant?  Unless they like the arrangement they have within the hierarchy, which then makes it just as self-serving to follow, and becomes collusive.  Because it’s a top down, tiered society, and there always seems to be somebody lower down, ending finally with the women and the children, who end up having no say.  The ties that bind are like electrical lines dispersing power.

We’re watching a wonderful thing happen in Egypt.  Democracy might break out in one of the most populous countries on the planet.  They have validated the dictum that people allow themselves to be ruled, that all the power a tyrant has is only what the people give him.  Ultimately, this is true.  The question is always, how abusive do things have to get before the people have had enough.

It’s the next stage that’s worrisome.  The Muslim Brotherhood is waiting in the wings, no doubt, for an opportunity to establish Sha’ria law.  Once that happens, democracy is done.  Sha’ria is autocratic, brooks no debate, and is not amenable to differences of opinion that stray too far—like, for instance, equal rights for women.

Yet to oppress the Muslim Brotherhood is also wrong.  That’s part of what has ultimately undone Mubarak.  It’s hard.  Even here we have to relearn that lesson periodically, that just because we disagree with someone and that someone is disagreeable, we don’t have the right to suppress or oppress them.  It’s more detrimental in the long run to force someone to shut up than any damage they can do by speaking their piece.

If Egypt transforms in the next year into a genuine secular democracy, then we may begin to see the entire Middle East take the same steps.  Iran would likely be the next one, and in that instance it would be a transformation 30 years overdue, since after ousting the Shah that’s where they were heading.  Within a year, the clerics assumed full authority and democracy in any practical sense was gone.  They were able to do this because no one wanted to defy people speaking for god.  Once you hoist that banner, people get chary of challenging your authority, because they might be challenging god.

That is the harm in such beliefs.  I won’t deny much good comes from religion, but in so many instances the tenets of religions have predisposed people to support autocracy, tyranny, and act counter to their own best interests.  The assumption that a given leader is speaking for god and therefore must be telling the truth or could not do anything against the good is naive.  By the time everyone figures out that he’s just using the people’s credulity to gain power, it can be too late.

None of which has any bearing on the truth of the basic assertions.  Whether there is a god or not has absolutely nothing to do with what I’m describing.  What it does have to do with is whether or not one is willing to set that aside in matters of public policy, wherein any use of religion often ends up being a cynical ploy to obtain power or enact laws that may not be for the best.

Anyway, such are the kinds of things that flit through my mind while I’m cleaning up.  Dust motes dancing over synapses. Time for another side of rock’n’roll.

Crazy Is As….

I’m not sure where I’m going with this, but bear with me.  A bit of confessional time.

It’s no secret to anyone who knows me that I’m an atheist.  To put it simply, I basically grew up and got over it.  Religion, to me, is historically and psychologically interesting, but does not represent any kind of reality.  The world, the universe, what have you, just doesn’t work that way, and for every example you can pull out of your hat of supposed “miracle” I can equal or better it with “shit happens” and just plain human synergy.  That anecdotal game can go on and on with neither side really running out of examples, leading no where, but just the fact that most miracles can be explained by mundane models suggests to me that the miracle is actually occurring inside the witnesses skulls.  (There’s this new one that is the presumed basis for the rapid beatification of Pope John Paul II concerning a nun with Parkinson’s Disease going into full remission two months after the Pope’s death because she prayed to him.  Now, if I remember my Catholic history and so forth, a miracle that qualifies someone for sainthood is supposed to have taken place during the recipient’s lifetime and he or she had to have been in some way directly involved.  This is clear evidence that the Catholic Church is undergoing a P.R. crisis and needs some new popular saints to bolster a flagging image.  The swift beatification of Mother Theresa is such a case, because anyone who really looked at the way she ran her organization would have to have serious doubts that this woman was “saintly” in any way, shape, or form—but she appears saintly.  Anyway.  Remission from disease happens all the time, just most of it never gets to the level of being considered a miracle—the human body is a dynamic system and we still have a lot to learn about it.)

The more complex answer is, that the more I learn the less I am able to suspend incredulity that anything like the cosmogony suggested by religions—any of them, and I stress here that I see no valid reason why any one should be given preference over any other—makes any sense given the evidence at hand.  Over time I saw religion as a strictly human enterprise, a kind of Swiss Army Knife approach to explaining the inexplicable that relied on fear and the human capacity to be amazed to instantiate a programmatic acceptance of authority-through-divinity.  Basically, it’s a business.  Not always to make money, you understand, but always to exercise power.

So I walked away.  I became a student of history and an amateur appreciator of science and the more I see, read, and discover, the more I am convinced that religious acceptance is a pathology.  It has become so deeply wired into human culture, that it appears normal and functions often quite benignly.  It only becomes a problem when situations arise and questions are asked which religion is unsuited to deal with.

One of the great and, of late, underappreciated and often derided truly cool things about America is that we—you and I—don’t have to put up with that crap.  We can walk away.

Now for most people, this translates into an easy freedom to change our stripes.  There are no legal or, often, social barriers to moving from, say, Catholicism to Presbyterianism.  Even among those two groups, eyebrows may rise, some tut-tuts may occur, but after an adjustment period, I imagine most folks even keep the same friends and might even go to each other’s church socials.  (For some of the more aggressively evangelical religions, this gets a bit tougher, but the law does nothing about it*.)

For some of us, it means we can just stop believing what we regard as nonsense.

This morning I went to the grocery store.  At my checkout lane, the cashier and another employee were engaged in what I quickly understood as a religious discussion, but one of those that make even some mainstream believers reflexively wince.  The one was explaining how ardently she had been praying, while the cashier—clearly in the higher position of authority in this—was saying  “It doesn’t matter how you pray, it’s that the Enemy attacks.  You got to be aware that he’s always there, attacking.  You can pray but you got to watch for the Enemy.”

I paid and left without saying a word and, I hope, without my face betraying my reaction, which was “Oh, a couple of nuts.”

Here’s a test.  Next time any of these situations come up at a party or in casual conversation, see how you react in the first few moments.

“My cousin was abducted by aliens.  They ran all kinds of tests on her.  I wonder what it is they’re looking for when they do that?”

“Oh, I never use traditional medicine. It’s all poison, you know.  I trust homeopathy.”

“There were at least two other shooters, one on the grassy knoll.  It was a CIA plot.”

“The world is going to end in 2011, May, in fact.”

“My astrologer said my stars are badly aligned for a move to a new job.  I hate where I’m at, but I don’t want to make the same mistake twice.”

Even if, within a minute, you recoup enough to either steer the conversation away from this or form some kind of cat’s cradle response that allows you to see this in some way other than at face value, I would bet you thought, however briefly, “Oh no, one of them.

Which is interesting, because I realized that over the years my reaction to each and every one of these, plus the score more I didn’t mention, has been identical to my reaction to someone who feels compelled to testify to me.  They are indulging a fantasy, basically, possibly one born out of a particular neurosis, and it is important for the maintenance of that fantasy that they co-opt others into supporting it.  Either by politely agreeing to the possibilities implicit in each world-view being presented, or by buying into their argument.  Either one lends credibility to their delusion, strengthens it, and reassures them that they are not, in fact, nuts.

To be sure, most of them likely aren’t nuts.  Not in any clinical sense.  Nothing medication will address.  They are simply indulging the power of interpretation and organizing the world according to a set of precepts that allow them to navigate.  And for many, many people it works just fine.  In fact, at least in the case of religion, because these ideas are so entrenched, so much a part of what is generally called Culture, it works better than just fine, it is almost psychologically wholesome.

Except we seem to choose what level of it we’re comfortable with.  I imagine even people with a regular religious component to their lives get uncomfortable when approached by some glassy-eyed evangelizer wanting to talk about their personal relationship with Jesus.  Because, I suspect, on some level we all know this isn’t quite rational and the irrational troubles us.

Now, what I do—fiction writing—can be readily described as irrational.  I find it interesting that some splinter religions deride fiction as sinful.  It’s competition, in a sense, an attraction to some other form of exactly the same pathology that doesn’t have the same telos as religious fable.  And I will cop to the charge, that making stories up is not, by certain metrics, rational.  Humans are not wholly rational.  If we were, there likely would be no art of any kind.  What we are is aesthetic.  We are beings of the senses.  And what I do speaks directly to that.  As does music and painting and sculpture, and dance.

And religion.

What are all these depictions of the after life if not confabulations of the ideal sensual experience?  (And by sensual I do not mean sexual, although in some religions that is very much a part of the whole Paradisical aesthetic.)  It is the perfect embrace of the aesthetic, often without the filtering of the flesh, so to speak, which seems sometimes to transmit the signal incompletely or with unpleasant noise.

What I do in my head, though, when I create characters and world is very much like the whole architecture of a religion.  The difference is, I do not then say my characters are Out There walking around.  Their existence is in my head.  And I do it for a specific and limited reason.  I’m trying to share a given experience.  The experience is the totality of it, though.  (We have run into people, some of us, who have taken it the next step and so personified favorite characters that they really do think they live in the same world.  What, may I ask, is the difference between that and the whole acceptance of religious constructs, other than in the former case we see these people as slightly off-beam and in the latter just “normal” folks?)

I will stipulate here that I think, for many people, as individuals, religion provides a quality of experience that is therapeutic.  Whatever gets you through the night, as the song says.   And as such it is not my place to criticize anyone’s choice of paradigms.  It’s even clear that religion serves as a functional component in community activity.  What is communal identity but an agreed-upon way of seeing the world?  And agreement is the first step toward cooperation.  So on and so forth.

But I also suggest that most peoples’ level of acceptance of religious claims is wholly conditional and contextual.  We can see this in the negative reaction to claims that, by some quite literal interpretations of religious codes, disasters and tragedies are the direct result of a failure to embrace a given claim.  New Orleans was swamped because we bar prayer in public schools.  9/11 happened because we tolerate homosexuality and some deity doesn’t like that.  We know this is crazy talk.  But it’s based on some of the same fundamental structures as the religion we may claim to believe.

So what does this, ultimately, have to do with the so-called real world?  Well, by this point you should pick up on where I’m going, but let me be perfectly blunt:  according to some religions, some people are second or third class citizens, not permitted to enjoy the same rights and privileges of the chosen.  This is the real world manifestation of a pathology that draws its authority from a delusion.  When it gets to that point, it’s no longer harmless.  Or therapeutic.  As when someone tells you, basically, that there’s nothing you can do, that no matter what your efforts may be, the Enemy is going to get you.  Consequently, you live a life constantly constrained by fear.

We only get one life on this planet.  It’s a crime to have it wasted being afraid of boogymen and ghosts and feeling like crap because of something that probably never happened.  And, in some places, being forced to live your whole life severed from all the wonders of the world simply because of your genital arrangement.  This is not wholesome, not therapeutic, and not right.  Someone else’s pathology should not limit your life.

I should wrap this up now.  If I continue, Vishnu may come down in his spaceship and abduct me and subject me to a severe audit with his E-meter.

——————————————————————————————–

*Although, sometimes the boundaries blur.

Hitch

As I mentioned in my previous post, Christopher Hitchens has esophageal cancer.  He is undergoing chemotherapy.  His prognosis is not good, as this is a particularly nasty form of cancer with a low survival rate.

It turns out that many people are praying for his recovery, which I find ironic but wonderful.  This is, I’ve been told, what true christianity is supposed to be like—extending the benevolence of your faith to those who might qualify as an enemy.  If only all christians were like that.  If only those who are like that were the loudest voices.

Unfortunately, the screaming meme misanthropic anti-intellectual pre-Enlightenment ignoramus branch of the movement tends to dominate a lot of the discourse, from the supporters of Proposition 8 to those who are not only praying for Hitch to die, but are sending notice of such prayers to public fora and putting megaphone to mouth so as many people as they can blast with their message will hear.

I will let Jeffrey Goldberg, correspondent for The Atlantic, express it for me.  He summed my feelings up quite nicely here.

I know many christians who find their uncouth brethren-in-name an embarrassment.  When they say that “we’re not all like that” they tell the truth.  It is my personal opinion that they would “not be like that” whether they believed in god or nothing, that decency has no denomination and requires no supernatural support mechanism.  I agree with the sentiments of people like Hitch and Richard Dawkins that by and large most people are secular, both in their outlook and their morality, that what is considered good and decent behavior today and what is considered unsupportable have changed over time and it is the pressure of evolving cultural demands, not any new revelation, that has had the most positive effect.  The Enlightenment, wherein many if not all of the ideas of equality and human dignity and the motives for social justice and progress came into their own, was a para-religious movement, sometimes a-religious, occasionally anti-religious.  We do not, most of us, live according to biblical precepts and rules nor would we find it acceptable to do so.

Whatever the reality, Hitch has argued that history is littered with the bodies of religion’s victims, and while it is legitimate to say that those who performed the atrocities did so outside the proper moral ground of religious feeling, it is also legitimate to argue that they in fact found justification for their actions in those same feelings and in the writings of their various faiths.

Hitch has spoken positively about Jesus the man and has argued that whoever he was, he was ahead of his time, a great teacher, and laid down a program those who have claimed for two millennia to be his followers have in aggregate failed to live up to.  Those who are praying for Hitch to recover, to be well, are, in this moment, succeeding.  They should deny those who pray for his death the use of the sobriquet Christian.  Not in that they are not living up to the expectations of their faith—in their eyes they are—but in that they have failed to see how their faith has severed them from legitimate moral feeling.

I do not pray.  But I wish Hitch well.  And for all those believers praying on his behalf—I wish you all well, too.

A Moment of Celebrity Type Stuff

A friend of mine, the estimable Erich Veith, came by my home a bit over a year ago and we recorded a long interview.  Erich has finally gotten around to editing it and has begun posting segments on YouTube.  Here’s the first one.  (I still haven’t figured out how to embed videos here, so bear with me.)

Erich runs the website  Dangerous Intersection, where I post opinionated blatherings from time to time and Erich graciously allows me to hold forth in my own idiosyncratic manner.  Why he thought people would also enjoy watching and hearing me as well, I can’t say, but I enjoyed the process and from the looks of the first three (which are up at Dangerous Intersection) I don’t think I came off too badly.

The one thing that has puzzled me about Erich these past few years is, where does he find the time to do what he does?  I mean, he’s a lawyer, for one thing.  He has two daughters his wife and he are raising.  He’s a musician who occasionally gigs.  And he runs this website, which is quite large and has a lot of traffic, and would seem to me to be just a lot of damn work.  If you haven’t spent some time there, do.  In my experience it’s unique and I’ve enjoyed being a small part of it.

My thanks to Erich for the opportunity to play at celebrity just a wee bit.  I hope others enjoy the results.

Zelazny and the Perils of Reading at a Young Age

Recently I started reading Roger Zelazny’s  Amber series.  I’ve been hearing about this for decades, how great it is, and till now it’s one of the few things of Zelazny’s that I’ve resisted reading.

See, it’s pretty much fantasy, in form if not conceit.  I can see a way to describe the world he created here in quantum mechanical terms and render it SF, but frankly it’s a typical sword and sibling fantasy.  Genealogy and combat.

But it’s Zelazny, so while reading it one is having a good time.  He was always dependable that way, he was never dull.  This, however, is not his major work.

But it got me thinking about him again.

Roger Zelazny caused me, as a kid, to defend myself.

I attended a parochial school—Lutheran, to be exact.  This was a peculiar situation since my parents, at the time, were more or less Mormon.  The choice of Emmaus Lutheran School came about through a combination of idiotic districting restrictions in the public schools, which would have sent me to a school several miles away when there was one only five blocks away, and their general dissatisfaction with the public school system.  You see, I was a poor student.  They thought it was perhaps a disciplinary problem, one which the public schools, at that time, were by law not allowed to address.  Corporal punishment had been banned in the schools.  (Of course, this didn’t matter to some teachers: I had witnessed a student beaten and humiliated by a gym coach when I was in the first grade.)  They assumed—and I suppose this was true to some extent—that I was playing when I should have been paying attention and that my attention could be gotten by threat of spanking.

(The reality was less than and more than their surmise.  In truth—and I can only say this in hindsight—public school damaged my interest in learning.  My birthday is in October, roughly five to six weeks into the school year.  When my mother first tried to enroll me, I was only four years old.  They wouldn’t take me, despite the immanence of my turning five.  I had to wait a year.  When I turned six, they pulled me out of kindergarten and put me in first grade, “where I belonged”.  The first grade teacher expected me—and the half dozen others who suffered the same fate—to simply catch up, without any remedial tutoring.  Needless to say, this put me off the whole thing.  That and the fact that classes were boring combined to make me a rather bad student.)

In fact, I only ever received a spanking in school once, and that for something I didn’t do.  Nevertheless, the threat was there and if this contributed to my somewhat better performance, then so be it.  Personally, I don’t think so.  For one, my grades didn’t improve all that much.  For another, the class sizes were smaller and we did get more attention from the teachers.

Along with this, though, came religious instruction.

Somewhere between my entry into this school in third grade and graduation I became an insatiable reader, especially of science fiction.

Reading alone would have made me odd.  But, like all misfits, my peculiarities came in multiples.  I was a bit puny, always had been, and abhorred pain, which made me an easy target for bullies.  In time I was the brunt of most class jokes.  In fifth grade I needed glasses.  Not only were they black horn-rims, they were bifocals.  To make matters worse, I didn’t like—or understand—cars, sports, or rock’n’roll.  Socially, I was a cipher.  Today you’d say nerd.  (No pocket protector, though; never had one of those.)  But on top of all that, I read.  All the time, whenever I could.  At recess I’d sneak upstairs to a spot on the stage I’d found where no one could find me, and read.  I never was found, even though teachers were looking for me, too.

Needless to say, I got teased about the reading.

My best friend sat in front of me in seventh grade.  Greg was very tall for his age and was one of the two boys in the school that no one ever challenged.  We’re still friends.  I tried to get him to read some of my books, but none of them really interested him.  He never questioned my reading, though, until one day his curiosity overwhelmed him.

I just happened to be reading Lord of Light at the moment Greg chose to turn around and ask  “Why do you read so much?”

I just looked at him.  I have no idea what went through my mind, but I can make some good guesses.  The thing to say—the truth, which, as good christians, we were taught was next to God—would have been “Because I like it.  It’s fun.”  But this was demonstrably Not True, since very few others of my peers thought it was fun.  Reading was hard, like homework.  Why would you do it if you didn’t have to?  Besides, another good christian virtue was to avoid things that had no other function than pleasure.  We did a lot of things because they were “just” fun, but we knew better than to admit to them.  It was okay to have fun as long as some other, more salient purpose was simultaneously fulfilled.  So I said “Well, I learn things.”

Greg looked skeptical.  “Like what?  I mean, what are you learning from—what is that?  Lord of Light?”

“Uh…”  I gazed at the cover of the book, an Avon edition with a black cover and a neat little illustration that looked semi-Indian.  What was I learning from it?  I grabbed at something.  “Well, I’m learning about the Hindu religion.”

Greg laughed and snorted derisively.  He snatched the book from my hand and studied it.  “This is science fiction.  Why would you be learning about Hindus in this?”

I was running out of things to say.  I reached for the book and he held it annoyingly out of reach.  He started reading the cover blurb out loud, laughing, mispronouncing words.

Attracting attention.

Mr. Obermann, our teacher—and the school principal—suddenly snatched it from Greg’s hand.  Mr. Obermann looked about ninety, but in a George C. Scott kind of robust way.  He glared at us for a few seconds and returned to his desk.

I watched him for a time—it was supposed to be a study period—and saw him looking the book over.  He frowned deeply and looked at me.  Then he called me to the front of the class.

“What is this?” he asked, tapping the book.

“A novel.”

“What about?”

Not again.  I have since learned that many very good books, when reduced to paragraph long descriptions, sound ridiculous, but I didn’t quite understand this then.  I tried to explain.  He cut me off, opened a desk drawer, and dropped it in.

He did not return it to me at the end of the day.  When I asked him about it he said something about material I had no business reading.

So I told my parents about it.

My mother took the time to come to school the next day.  She insisted I sit in on her meeting with Mr. Obermann.  She wanted to know why I had not had my book returned and he started explaining about the unsuitability of the subject matter and so on.  Mom interrupted.

“You’re telling me you don’t want him learning anything about other religions?”

“This is a Lutheran school.  That’s what we teach here.”

“I see.  Do you also teach intolerance?”

Mr. Obermann reddened.  “Mrs. Tiedemann—”

“I’ll thank you not to censor my son’s reading.  If he can’t handle it, he won’t read it.”

I was sent back to class then, so I don’t know what else transpired.  My book was returned with an admonition not to bring it to school anymore.

Given how uncomfortable Mr. Obermann became, I made a practice over the next several months of bringing other, hopefully radical books to class.  And reading them.  In retrospect I suppose my parents were right.  I needed a strict, disciplinary environment in which to improve my learning skills.  Thanks to Zelazny, I learned an important lesson.  It took me years to realize exactly what it was, but the seed was planted there.

If someone tries to make you defend what you read—or that you read—remember that slogan from Harley-Davidson:  If I have to explain it, you wouldn’t understand.  Just give them a book and tell them to try it out.