29 September 2008

Oh, Me of Little Faith

The following is a transcription of a conversation I had with two American missionaries on a busy street in Duisburg, Germany.

Missionary 1: Guten Tag!

Me: Tag.

M1: Wir kommen aus Amerika und wollten mit Ihnen reden über...

Me: I'm American.

M1: Oh, no way! Where are you from?

(Small talk ensues.)

M1: So, you can probably tell what organization we're with...

Me: Well, judging by your nametags, I'd guess the Church of Jesus Christ.

M1: Exactly! We're also better known by the name of Mormons.

Me: Yes, I know who you are.

M1: Great! So basically, we're on a mission here and today we're just asking people what their beliefs are. So, what do you believe? Do you follow a certain religion, or...

Me: I'm an atheist.

M1: Ok. How long have you been an atheist, your whole life?

Me: No, actually, back in middle and high school I still believed in god, but then I started questioning things. For instance, there's a plurality of religions in the world, and many claim to be the only true faith, and I reject that one is true and another is false, because there's no external standard by which to judge the veracity of any religion. I also learned about the history of religions, and how religions came about, and I concluded that frankly, they're all false.

M1: Yeah, well it's interesting what you said about there being many religions. Personally, I think that people have their own relationships with God, and that different religions might have different views of it but it's really the same experience. But I used to be an atheist too, actually. When I was younger I thought 'No way, I don't believe in God, I don't see any reason to'. But then my father and I started talking - I was raised in the Church, you know, but we all reach that point in our lives when we doubt things like this - my father and I talked and he and I prayed together. And my father told me to pray for an answer. And when I did, I had this great feeling, like God was talking to me and saying, I'm here and I love you. And then I prayed about the books - the Bible and the Book of Mormon. And again, I just got this great feeling. Like God was really there for me, like He knew what I was going through and He had the answers.

Me: I see. But for me, that's not enough of a reason to believe in god. Frankly, I don't put much stock in prayer. There's no way to prove anybody's listening. You spoke of a 'feeling', but - you know what the placebo effect is? I think it's a lot like that. You pray because it comforts you and makes you feel good, but you really end up believing whatever you want to believe. And also, I think prayer is, in logical terms, an ad hoc fallacy - something that's tailored to be true no matter what. For instance, if my mother has a terminal illness, and I pray to god to heal her - if she lives, I say, praise the Lord, he answered my prayers! But if she dies, I say, well, god has a plan, and he knows best. You see? It's perpetually self-verifying - no matter what happens, it's assumed that prayer works.

M1. Yeah, I understand what you're saying. In fact, I had a cousin who died, and he was about my age, and he and I were very close, so I know exactly what you're talking about in terms of praying to god. But at that time, when I was mourning for my cousin, what I really needed was comfort. I needed to be comforted. And I found that comfort in God.

Me: I find it interesting that you used the word comfort, because I think that that's really the foundation of all religion - the fear of things beyond our control, the fear of what we don't understand, and I think the comfort of religion caters to those fears. If you don't understand something about the world, you can explain it away by saying that god made it happen. And if something terrible happens, you can tell yourself that god has a plan, and you'll feel better. But that doesn't make it true. I think people have many sources for comfort, and many people find comfort in their religions, but I don't think it's necessary. I think there are other ways to find strength and comfort.

M1: But look, I wasn't saying I found comfort in my religion, I was saying I found comfort in God, and in my prayers to God and my relationship with Him.

Me: Well, exactly. I don't see how finding comfort that way is any different from having an imaginary friend. Suppose right now I created an imaginary friend named George, and I unburdened my heart to him, and told him all of my fears and hopes. I would probably experience the same relief and comfort that you did praying to god, and I don't see what the difference is.
Look, I've got to run, but it's been nice talking with you guys.

M1: Nice talking to you too! Would you like a Book of Mormon? It's in German, you might find it interesting!

Me: I think it would be wasted on me, but thanks.

28 September 2008

No Ordinary Republic

The USA is in fact not a democracy. In a strict democracy, such as that of ancient Athens, citizens vote directly to create laws and enact policy.

We don't do that in the United States. First of all, it is a logistical impossibility to have all American citizens vote on every law and issue. But there's another reason, too, why we don't practice strict democracy. The founders of the United States realized that the average American citizen simply would not know enough about many issues to make informed, rational decisions.

Two perfect examples of this are the current mortgage lender crisis and nation-building in Iraq: these are tortuous problems that require specialized knowledge for even a solid understanding of the subject, let alone productive analysis.

So the founders created not a democracy, but a democratic republic. In a republic, citizens elect leaders to represent them in government and those tough decisions for them. These leaders can have qualities and qualifications that the average citizen lacks, allowing the ship of state to be steered by the best and brightest.

This throws a different light on the current disparaging use of the term 'elitist'. The founding fathers were, undoubtedly, elitists - men of property, wealth, and vast knowledge. They wanted elites like themselves to lead the country, backed by a mandate of a free people. Frankly, they didn't trust the ordinary citizens themselves all that much; they thought them too influenced by frivolous issues (for instance, lapel pins and who can field-dress a moose) and the sophistry of demogogues (like, for example, Rush Limbaugh).

Fastforward to 2008, when Barack Obama comes under fire for acting smarter than other people, and an unimpressive person like Sarah Palin can become the Vice Presidential candidate precisely because of her ordinariness, which is, bizarrely, viewed as a virtue.

The strength of our republic has become its weakness. The leaders we choose to represent us, instead of embodying the best qualities our country has to offer, embody the average, the unexceptional, the mundane.

I understand why people want average people like themselves to lead them. They are intimidated by those with superior qualities, and think that people who share their mediocrities will better represent them in government.

But the past seven years have taught us the price of electing an average schmuck to the highest political office in the land. Average people get you average results. Stupid people get you even worse results. We elected George W. Bush, a trust-fund baby without an achievement or original idea to his name, and seven years later we find ourselves burdened with a gigantic deficit, an economic crisis, and an ongoing misadventure in Iraq. Does no one see this connection between electing an unexceptional leader and getting poor results?

We live in no ordinary republic. We shouldn't elect ordinary people to lead it.

05 September 2008

Where Abstinence-Only Education Gets You



It's quaint that Republicans believe you can actually stop teenagers from having sex by telling them not to have sex. It's fitting when the hopelessness of this strategy is demonstrated by one of their own daughters.

I've said this before, but it bears repeating: withholding contraceptives and sexual education from teenagers won't stop them from having sex; it will just ensure that they impregnate each other more often. Conservative "family values" apparently include teens making big, round-wombed mistakes.

Sarah Palin has stated that she and her family are "proud of Bristol's decision to have her baby." As was astutely pointed out on the Daily Show this week, it is obscene that Palin is at once glad that her daughter made a good choice, while eager to take that same choice away from other women:




In response to the media attention Palin's daughter has received, Republicans have declared resentfully that this is a 'private' matter, and that the family should be left alone.

First of all, if this was a Democrat's daughter, they sure as hell wouldn't consider it 'private'. They would be bludgeoning Bristol with the same 'family values' that they're now, bizarrely, using to defend her.

Secondly, it's not a private matter. Bristol Palin is the prospective VP's daughter, and she is a walking rebuttal of her mother's naive, puritanical approach to sex education. It is both relevant and appropriate to ask how Sarah Palin proposes to convince the teens of America to abstain when she couldn't even convince her own daughter. Or why she thinks that her daughter's free choice to keep the baby should be forced upon the rest of America's women.