The Burden of Proof

Something I have learned over the years is not to get into an argument with a fundamentalist Christian. What kind of argument can one have with someone who says: ‘Of course God exists. The Bible says so’; or ‘If God doesn’t exist, who wrote the Bible?’ I could have more useful conversations with my dog or goldfish (if I had either) than with a fundamentalist Christian. Actually, I could have more useful conversations with my imaginary goldfish. A little harsh? Hmmm… No, not really.

Those who believe in God (and not just those of a fundamentalist persuasion) apparently see the burden of proof as lying with those who don’t believe. ‘Prove God doesn’t exist!’ I don’t have to; any more than I have to prove that fairies don’t exist. After all, I'm not the one claiming there is some kind of superior being out there, who created the world and me, who tells me how I should be living my life, and to whom I owe allegiance and worship. (There are Oprah and Dr Phil [and maybe Justin Bieber], of course, but I digress.) The burden of proof is clearly with those who hold such a belief.

I don’t think those who believe in God even begin to understand the magnitude of the task before them. Let’s be clear. Even if it could be demonstrated that there was a being who created the world and me, it would take much more than this fact alone before I would give my allegiance and worship to such a being. Or to accept that such a being cared about me, or had the right to tell me how to live my life. Proving that God existed would be only one small step. Proving that God existed would not demonstrate that the Bible or Qur’an or any other sacred text had anything useful to say about him, her or it. Let alone that he, she or it wrote it. Demonstrating the existence of God would not prove that Jesus or Mohammed or any particular prophet or religious leader had anything of importance to say about God. It would not prove that any (let alone every) word uttered by them or written in any religious text was true. Even proving that every word of the Bible was true would still not induce me to worship God. You would have much more work to do after that, believers!

I don’t believe in God, but the question is scarcely of more than academic interest to me anyway. If God exists, so what?

The right to BE gay

Determining whether a particular, complex set of human behaviours is genetically or socially determined is a very difficult matter. In all likelihood, all human behaviour is the result of a complex interaction between genetic/biological and social factors. I put ‘genetic/biological’, rather than simply genetic, because it is likely that behaviour is influenced by biological factors other than particular genes.

The debate over whether sexual orientation is genetically determined is politically and emotionally charged, and research into it is unlikely to be entirely ‘objective’. Many of those of a religious persuasion who are opposed to homosexuality would like it to be demonstrated that a homosexual lifestyle is a matter of choice rather than genetically determined. Of course, in a sense they will always be correct: it will always be possible (but not necessarily desirable) for someone with a homosexual orientation to choose celibacy. Many within the homosexual community would prefer it to be demonstrated that a homosexual orientation has a genetic basis, as this would strengthen equal rights arguments.

My personal opinion is that it is unlikely that the debate over the genetic origin of sexual orientation will ever be fully resolved and that, in fact, as with all human behaviour, the situation is far more complicated than an either/or option. I also think it likely that there is an entire spectrum of sexual orientation and that few people are 100% gay or 100% straight.

Many of those who are in favour of gay rights seem to prefer the ‘genetic’ over the ‘choice’ model for sexual orientation. They seem to think that by showing that sexual orientation has a genetic or biological origin they have lifted it out of the moral sphere. I have even heard gay people say things like: ‘I can’t help it; I was born that way.’ I find this kind of thinking odd, and a little disturbing. Are they implying that if it were a choice, it would be immoral? Is the only argument against those who consider homosexual behaviour to be immoral to remove it from the realm of moral choice by claiming that it is innate? Is that not, at some level, to concede the argument?

Surely the correct argument against those who claim that homosexual behaviour is immoral is to argue that it is moral, rather than that it is amoral. Even if there is some genetic influence on sexual orientation, I think it unlikely that choice can be entirely eliminated, even if it is only the choice to express that behaviour. Why not stand proud and say: ‘I choose to live this way’; and perhaps even: ‘I choose to be this way, and there is nothing wrong with that choice. It is not an amoral choice. It is an equally valid moral choice.’ Then we can begin a dialogue, not only about the need for people who are gay to have the same rights as those who are not, but about the right to be gay.

Violence and alcohol: Who would have thought?

As much as we might like to pretend that it is not the case, men are violent. It’s in our nature. Fortunately, nature does not always have the final word on the matter. For the most part, at least in our personal interactions, we manage to keep our violent tendencies on a leash. We are able to restrict ourselves to verbal warfare and other kinds of one-up-man-ship. We provide ourselves with various sporting and competitive outlets. Or the occasional war. All socially acceptable ways of channelling our violence, it seems.

Unfortunately, there are at least two things that undermine our capacity to control our violence; and these usually go together. They are: alcohol and the tribe. Alcohol removes our inhibitions (there’s a startling revelation for you). Not surprisingly, then, when you grease a verbal confrontation between two men with a little alcohol, physical violence will almost always follow.

Although some violence is private, much of it is public and serves a social role. Men, like most animals, seek to establish a strong position within the tribe and to gain the fear and respect of other members of the tribe. Violence within the tribe serves to establish the hierarchy. Violence between two men from different tribes not only serves to establish a hierarchy of tribes, but also to build up a man’s prestige and status within his own tribe. It is not surprising, then, that when groups of people (tribes) are out drinking on a Friday or Saturday night violence frequently erupts between the men. Can any of us actually, genuinely, be surprised by this? Disapproving, yes. But surprised? Caught unawares? Surely not. Given the mixture of men, alcohol and tribalism it would be astonishing if violence were not to erupt.

There appears to be an increase in this kind of violence across Australia at the moment. Whether this is actually the case, or whether the apparent increase reflects a change in the policing and reporting of such events, is difficult to say. Either way, there is clearly a problem here. The social restraints which are normally operative break down in such situations. Alcohol is clearly an issue. Perhaps we will never change this, though, until the same television program that, before the commercial break is expressing its ‘sincere’ concern about such events, following the commercial break is showing images of people ‘having fun’ at New Years events, and of sporting teams ‘having fun’ while celebrating a victory. It’s not much use bemoaning such violence if, in the next breath, we are bragging about how pissed we were the other night. Because, despite all our protestations, getting pissed still seems to be a cool, ‘fun’ thing to do.

Australian society is experiencing something of a dissociative episode at the moment concerning this issue. On the one hand, we are rightly appalled by the violence that is occurring; on the other hand, we cannot yet shake the idea that to have fun means to get pissed. We continue to extol the virtues of drunkenness and show not only tolerance, but even fondness, for the drunken larrikin. Yet that same larrikin will be punching someone in a moment, and we will all be ‘surprised’ and appalled. In the next breath, though, I will be called a wowser for pointing out the problem. ‘They’re only having fun,’ I will be told.

In the end, I am quite happy to have finally found my role in life, that of an old, grumpy, antisocial killjoy.

The Gravity of Evolutionary Theories

It’s time to tackle here, if only briefly, an issue that tends to make my blood boil: that people do not ‘believe’ in evolution. For what these people laughingly call ‘reasons’ they choose not to accept the overwhelming evidence demonstrating the fact of evolution. It is probably one of the most well-documented phenomena in the whole of science. I’m not going to waste my time arguing the details here, which would not convince these people in any case. No amount of evidence could ever do that. What I am going to take issue with, however, is the argument, made by these people, that evolution is only a theory, and that, therefore, other theories (usually creationism) are of equal standing and should therefore be taught alongside (if not instead of) evolution. This is a complete misunderstanding of what is meant by those who speak about the (or a) theory of evolution.

Let’s get this cleared up once and for all. Evolution is not a theory. Evolution is a well-established and undeniable phenomenon about which certain theories—the best known being Darwin’s theory of evolution by means of natural selection—have been proposed, tested and further developed. Darwin and biologists today are not proposing the theory that life forms on this planet have undergone a long process of evolution. This is the given fact. What they are doing is proposing natural mechanisms by which this process occurs. The theory of evolution by natural selection—the survival of the fittest—is one such (well-supported) theory; but other mechanisms are also considered.

When biologists talk about ‘the theory of evolution’ they are doing so in the same way that physicists talk about ‘the theory of gravity’. Gravity is a given, well-known phenomenon, about which we have certain theories. I don’t suppose that many biblical fundamentalists doubt the reality of gravity as a phenomenon. But then again, one can never be sure…

On Being an A-fée-ist

I have a word of advice for people who do not believe in gods or a god: Don’t define yourself (or let others define you) as an atheist. To do so is to bind yourself too closely (albeit by negation) to a particular belief system.

There are many things I do not believe in, but I don’t define myself or my beliefs in terms of them. For example, I don’t believe in fairies; but I don’t define myself as an a-fée-ist. (See the clever pun there?) Defining myself as an atheist would be like defining myself as a non-Frenchman. It is only one of many things that I am not, so why single that one out for a special mention?

What may be loosely called my atheism is a not particularly helpful and decidedly negative way to describe my position towards the world and my relationship to what may be broadly termed ‘spirituality’. Those who have followed this blog will know that I in fact consider myself to be a very spiritual person, but that this has no connection with religion, no dependence on a god of any kind, no connection with an afterlife, nor anything necessarily to do with a ‘higher’ state of being. It is not even very closely connected with morality or ethics. Spirituality has to do with how the right brain perceives (and sometimes constructs) reality. It has a great deal to do with connections and holistic or gestalt perception. All of this has a perfectly natural explanation, although this in no way invalidates the experience.

The difference really enters in when we begin to interpret these experiences. I would say that this interpretation begins during (and not just after) the experience. The experience is already itself shaped to a large extent by prior beliefs and experiences. Once the conscious process of interpretation has begun, there is a vast gulf between how I understand these experiences and how traditional religious and spiritual systems understand them. And I will object strongly if someone asserts (as happens from time to time) that, ‘see, you do believe in God after all.’ I don’t. Nothing is gained (and much is lost) by applying the word ‘God’ to any part of this experience.

Although I have used the word ‘spiritual’ here, I hesitate about its use, because it is so easily misinterpreted. It carries almost as many unhelpful connotations as the word ‘God’. It is difficult to think of a word that is not similarly tainted or cannot be similarly misinterpreted in the context of this discussion. By the word ‘spiritual’ I mean no more (and, just as certainly, no less) than what I experience when I am moved by a piece of music, a great painting, a wonderful poem or a beautiful sunset. These experiences are ‘transcendent’ (another potentially problematic term) because the total experience is greater than the sum of its parts—the parts that would usually be separated and dissected in a purely reductionist view of reality. This reductionist approach is not wholly wrong; it is simply not wholly right either.

In short, I will not describe myself as an atheist, because to do so is to let theism define me.

On the Perils of Emails

This blog is prompted by an email conversation in which I was recently involved, and which included a number of recipients and ‘copy to’ folk. The danger of emails has been pointed out to me more than once. When you write something in an email, even if you are addressing that email privately to one person, there is always the danger that the email will ‘escape’. It could be a deliberate leak, or it could be a simple mistake of sending an email to other people that still contains the email trail. I suspect that many a politician has been caught out by careless words that have escaped in this way. There is also the issue that an email has the potential for immortality. A spoken word, although it cannot be taken back, nevertheless lives on only in people’s memories (unless it is recorded in some way, of course). An email, once sent, cannot be recalled—but nor does it dissolve in the ether.

People also often say of email conversations that the words on the screen can be easily misconstrued, because they are not accompanied by a tone of voice and body language, and because they sometimes lack context. This is true, although I think the spoken word is also very easily misunderstood, and it can be difficult to correct such misunderstandings when the other person is already flouncing around the room and flapping their arms in an indignant frenzy. The advantage of emails, however, is that there is time to carefully consider your words and pause before hitting the send button. There is actually less excuse for writing something inappropriate in an email than for saying something inappropriate in a face to face conversation.

My advice when writing emails is to try to avoid saying anything that you would not want the rest of the world to read, because one day it just might! My other piece of advice is to read over an email very carefully before pushing that send button. There’s nothing worse than the ‘Oh shit’ feeling that descends upon you when you realise that perhaps you shouldn’t have said that!

PS. Happy Holidays and all that stuff, in case I don’t post anything here before then.

Does it grab me?

It is often said, these days, that a book must grab the reader on the very first page, if not from the very first line. It is necessary to draw the reader in immediately. It’s true, of course, that some of the greatest books or bestselling books (by no means the same thing) have very memorable opening lines. There are web pages where you can find lists of these, if you are keen. Of course, what one person considers a brilliant opening line or page, another will consider boring. These lists also tend to be rather short, suggesting that many very great books do not, in fact, have particularly memorable opening lines.

I suppose what is being claimed here—if we don’t take the assertion too literally—is that it is important to get the readers’ attention quickly, to make them interested from the beginning. But how early is early? I suspect that if we are ready to decide after the opening line, the first page, or even the first five pages (let’s say) then we may be depriving ourselves of the pleasure of reading a great many good books. Some books—I would suggest rightly and appropriately—begin at a slow pace. Some really good books even remain at a slow pace throughout! Yes, dare I say it: fast and exciting is not the (only) definition of a good read! And we all know that, really, don’t we? Jane Austen remains one of the most popular authors, even today.

So I am generally prepared to give a book twenty or thirty pages before I decide it’s not for me. And it could ‘not be for me’ for a variety of reasons. Perhaps it is not well written; perhaps the story doesn’t interest me; perhaps I don’t like the writing style; perhaps it is too difficult! This cannot be determined, I would suggest, from the first page, let alone the opening line!

Then, of course, there is the other side of the equation: a book may begin brilliantly, but offer nothing in what follows. So, again, I will not decide simply on the basis of the opening line or page that ‘this is for me’, any more than I will decide that it isn’t.

I suspect that our need to be ‘grabbed’ immediately is a further symptom of our society’s need for instant gratification, its quest for a quick fix, and its overall ADHD. We are impatient and we have short attention spans. Sometimes a good book requires patience and a little hard work. A society that lives on tweets and ten second news grabs is unlikely to have the patience to give a book a chance, if the first line doesn’t read like a clever tweet; or if the first scene does not involve big screen action.