Archive for the ‘me’ Category

What tweaks Tim today

2013/04/05

I’m feeling under the weather right now (sore throat, since you ask), and it has left me feeling a tad peevish. So I thought, what better time to put pen to friendly blog?

I’ll try to make my tetchiness entertaining. Here for your edification are ten things that annoy me:

  1. “Humanists are just atheists who don’t want the pejorative label.” Oh, the gems that come from within one’s own tribe. I’ve only heard this one from other atheists. They ought to know better! The words “humanist” and “atheist” have different meanings. It may be that some people avoid the label “atheist” because of the negative optics associated with it; but for many of us the term “humanist” more completely describes our beliefs and values. It is, communicatively, a better word for what we’re trying to say. And for the record, I am a humanist and an atheist.
  2. “You need as much faith to be an atheist as to be a believer.” Give me a break. Saying “I don’t have enough evidence to believe, so I won’t believe” is not on the same level as saying “I don’t have enough evidence to believe, but I’ll believe anyway.” Sure, some atheists assign an unnecessarily pejorative definition to the word “faith”, but even under the most generous meaning, the above claim is ridiculous. Do you accept the tenets of Government-Binding Theory (in the syntactic analysis of language)? If you do, without seeing any evidence for it, then you are making a leap of faith. If you do not accept it, then you are not making a leap of faith. You are sensibly reserving judgment. That is the position of the atheist.
  3. Malapropisms, bad grammar, and vague language. Communication is such a fragile thing. Much suffering and strife can be traced back to unclear transmission of ideas, yet many people use language in any old slapdash way they fancy. You can almost feel the social glue dissolving as they speak. It’s like they want misunderstanding, confusion, and strife. (And yes, the Oxford comma is the appropriate, clear, and logical way to behave in civilized English prose.)
  4. If there’s even a possibility that Jesus died for your sins, isn’t that an offer worth considering? Emotional blackmail? Seriously? But leaving that aside, consider the proposition. People tell me that an all-powerful guy who created the universe arranged a brutal sacrifice of himself* to himself in order to permit himself to forgive me for the imperfections built into me by himself. And they expect me to be grateful?! No, if Jesus died for my sins as they describe, the universe is being run badly by an evil being. Human sacrifice is a practice that thoughtful, compassionate humans have grown out of. If gods have not also grown out of it, so much the worse for them. (*Part of himself, anyway. Temporarily.)
  5. Who are you to judge God? Who am I? I’m the one being asked to commit my life and behaviour to a being accused of child sacrifice, genocide, and helping people in statistically imperceptible but psychologically compelling ways. The believer who judges God to be good enough to worship is at least as arrogant as the disbeliever who judges him to be fictional and/or not worthy of worship.
  6. Rhetorical questions that beg for answers. For example, a creationist rhetorically asks, “What could possibly account for the way giraffes’ cardiovascular system is perfectly adapted to the problems of a long neck?” (example) Asking the question betrays a culpable lack of curiosity in the world around use. The only way someone can ask that and not get an answer is if they’re saying it in a one-way medium, like a film (thanks, Netflix, for that half-hour I’ll never get back), or if they’re talking to people who are even less curious about the real answers than the speaker. (By the way, the answer to the giraffe question is evolution. Like, real evolution, not the strange straw man that creationists imagine when they compose their semi-coherent polemics.)
  7. God is beyond human understanding. Then stop claiming to understand him! Saying “God is mysterious” when he seems to have done something bad, but “God is good” when he seems to have done something good is what we call special pleading, and it is monumentally unpersuasive. Take Government Binding Theory again. If I tell you it’s beyond human understanding, then catalogue how it concisely explains syntactic structure across a variety of languages and predicts what patterns we should and should not see in new languages, you will suspect that (a) it’s not actually beyond human understanding, and (b) my empirical claims are weak and I want to have an out. At any rate, you will approach the theory with sensible, appropriate skepticism.
  8. My internal grammar-nazi. Let me be completely clear here: I am very grateful to Mrs Church for guiding me through some of my key formative literary years. I have benefited greatly from her strict, no-nonsense approach to what is appropriate and what is heinous in grammatical constructions. But is it really a matter for moral repugnance when someone uses a double-negative? Does someone’s failure to use the Oxford comma really merit a black mark in my mental Rolodex? Is there really a word that one should never end a sentence with?
  9. Overstating the role of religion in the world’s evils. Honestly, atheists, there are a lot of other things out there that lead to more evil. Like money. Well, okay, that seems to seep into organized religion and produce some amazing exploitation. What about power? Hmm, same problem. The human tendency to tribalism and divisiveness? There we go: religions often preach unity and universality, so they’re free of that at least. Of course, they often disagree about whose unity and universality should be used. And those disagreements often turn violent, divisive, and tribal. Gah. Anyway, snarkiness aside, my original complaint stands. Religions aren’t the source for any of the world’s evils. The source is human nature. Religions are just really, really convenient conduits for them, made more amenable by their tendency to encourage blind faith over careful questioning and scrupulous doubt.
  10. Hell. One of the worst ideas that humans have ever come up with. What sort of person threatens a child, her friends, and her family with hell for honest dissent? I once met an otherwise pleasant woman who happily explained that, if she ended up in heaven and a loved one ended up in hell, it wouldn’t matter, because God would give her some sort of emotional lobotomy to prevent her from caring about the eternal torment of others. The idea of hell was not inflicted on my impressionable young psyche, for which I am very grateful to my parents. But I have known people who have been deeply scarred by the doctrine of hell. Some of them have since escaped its psychological prison; others have not. While I have no grand dream of a world without religion, hell is one meme that I would happily consign to the flames if I could.

(Yes, I see what I did there. What can I say? It’s a repugnant idea, but it’s a useful metaphor.)

Running for mental health

2012/08/17

No, this isn’t a post about some new research linking exercise to psychological well-being.

I’ve entered a run – I’ll be doing my first official run (after about a year of very moderate casual running). I’ll run 10 kilometers (about 6 miles). And I’m doing it for Schizophrenia. It’s the annual Open Minds Walk and Run, put on by the Schizophrenia Society of Alberta.

It’s a first for me in a couple of ways. First, it’ll be the first time I’ve run as part of an official event. Second, it’ll be the first time I’ve tried sponsored fundraising since 30-Hour Famine back in high school.

So I’ve set myself a couple of goals. First, I hope to complete the run in under 50 minutes. I’ve only run 10 km once before. Well, 9.77 km. I did it in 58 minutes 20 seconds. I think with a little training, I can meet that goal.

Second, I hope to raise $400 for schizophrenia research and outreach. If you’re interested in helping me meet that second goal, please go here to learn more. If you’d like to help me meet the first goal, perhaps you could come cheer me on. It’s in Edmonton (map on the site just linked), on September 22.

This has been an unpaid advertisement on behalf of the Schizophrenia Society of Alberta. We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog-reading …

New snow

2012/03/08

One evening not long ago, I took the garbage and recycling out to the curb. A gentle snow was falling, drifting down through the orange glow of the street lights.

I stood in the serene silence, contemplating the scene. The marks of vehicles and feet, grit and grime, were all disappearing beneath a pristine orange-white blanket. My subconscious gently whispered a single word to me:

Forgiveness.

It was a forgiving snowfall.

It was a peaceful sensation, standing at the curb, watching the forgiving snow fall, feeling the cool night air against my cheeks. It suffused me with an unlooked-for sense of relief, of release from the stresses and worries of the day. I began to reflect on the appeal of forgiveness (a concept that seems to be a central, motivating element in more than one religious system).

I saw how someone in my position, feeling what I felt right then, might infer a divine forgiver behind the emotion (rather than dismissing it as simply coming from their own mind*). After all, forgiveness is normally granted by someone else.

And of course, if one is forgiven, it is generally in response to a transgression of some sort. You are forgiven for something. A sin.

And the forgiver must have had some alternative (or else what’s the point?). If forgiveness were not granted, then what? Punishment. Retribution. Some sort of supernatural gulag. Hell.

I noticed that, in a short series of very natural steps, I had been led from a remarkable experience to imagining the invention of a religion – a religion with a very familiar structure. I felt, as I don’t think I have felt so strongly ever before, how appealing are those belief systems that hold up forgiveness as a central reward of participation. I could see why someone might want to believe. Why I might want to believe.

I don’t know. I don’t know whether my chain of imagination in any way reflects the birth sequence of any actual human religion. I don’t know if any individual person has ever come to religious belief through such an experience.

Though it was powerful and moving, the sensation and the thoughts it inspired did not make a believer out of me. It was wonderful, memorable. It begins to give me a little more insight into how my mind works, how I process things emotionally.

But it does not look to me like evidence of a supernatural realm, of a divine forgiver.

I think – I hope – that the experience has given me a new sympathy for believers, a new ability to see why they find their beliefs so attractive. We shall see.

Footnote:

* It is both curious and telling that, in response to atheists’ skepticism, believers often challenge them by asking if they think these experiences are simply in their heads. As if anyone with even a passing familiarity with neural physiology or human psychology could ever describe the physical mind as “simple”. Your brain is incredibly powerful, and is doing so much more work processing the input of your senses and curating your memories than you are ever conscious of.

I’m a junkie

2011/07/06

I’ve discovered a drug. A wonderful, happy-making, pain-soothing drug. And I’m hooked.

This morning I got up and, before anyone else was awake, slipped out of the house to get myself a hit. When I came back, Deena and Kaia were up. Deena could see on my face that I’d been out getting high. She knew the look. She’s the one that got me hooked in the first place.

She was proud of me.

I was proud too.

You see, I’ve taken up running. And when you run, along with the sweat, the encroaching feeling of heaviness, the mind-fogging weariness that creeps over you, there is a payoff.

The body gives you the gift of endorphins.

Let me tell you, it’s awesome.

It’s powerful.

It’s more than a little bit habit-forming.

Just over a month after I went for my first run with Deena, I find myself eager to go out for more. Even though we’re in the middle of a hot, humid Boston summer. (Hence the early morning run, when the temperature is moderately bearable.) Even though I’m not getting quite enough sleep (two young kids and all). Even though I have all the excuses I’ve always had not to spend time on exercise.

I am almost up to five kilometres in one go – long enough to enter a proper run. My goal by the end of the summer is 10k, and at the current rate I’ll get there no problem.

Now, I hear you thinking that maybe it’s not this endogenous drug cocktail my body is dosing me with. Maybe I’m simply high on life. Maybe I’m elated at the sense of personal accomplishment.

To which I say yes, of course. I am an animal, and my subjective experiences are built from complex interactions of hormones, neurotransmitters, synaptic potentials, and other things that I (a non-biologist) don’t really understand. Stupendous!

The subjective experience is captivating, compelling, even addictive. By extension, the biological processes supporting it are pretty nifty too. (Anyone know of a good popular-level book on the science and physiology of running? Or of exercise more generally?)

And now, I’m beginning to wonder if running endorphins are some sort of gateway drug. I’ve been getting this odd urge to try out weight training too. I’m starting with push-ups, but who knows where this spiralling behaviour will lead?

(By the way, can anyone suggest any late-summer or autumn 5k or 10k runs in the Boston area that I could set my sights on?)

Selfish Gene

2011/04/05

I just finished reading The Selfish Gene, the first of Richard Dawkins’ many books popularizing the fascinating byways and unexpected consequences of evolutionary theory.

The Selfish Gene was first published the year before I was born. I was fortunate to be reading the 30th anniversary edition, which includes not only the original text, but also extensive notes by the author on more recent developments, as well as two all-new chapters (one of which seems to be a teaser for The Extended Phenotype – now on my reading list). For my money, the original text would have been worth it alone. I know that it’s not cutting-edge any more, but to a layman like me it’s all relatively new (even having read several of Dawkins’ other books – he’s not one to beat the same facts to death book after book).

So here I am, urging you to read it if you haven’t. It’s not stale or unreadable – it’s Dawkins through and through. And if you have read the original version, it still might be worth checking out the footnotes of this edition – they are a beautiful illustration of scientific eagerness to learn and willingness to admit mistakes.

I am not really into book reports, so I’m not going to draw this out too much. (I will say that the worst part of the book for me – through no fault of Dawkins – was the discussion of parasites. I read it while trying to get over a rather nasty bug: not wise. In retrospect, now that my gut is my own again, it is a fascinating and well-written discussion.)

I did want to point out, rather gleefully, a quote near the end. (Don’t worry – it’s not a spoiler.)

Indeed I suspect that the essential, defining characteristic of an individual organism is that it is a unit that begins and ends with a single-celled bottleneck. (p 264)

Why am I delighted? Because it (and the surrounding text backing up this claim) expands on a fact that I have contemplated with wonder in the past – for example, here on this blog not long before my son was born.

Think about it. Between any parent and child on a family tree, there was a time when the line of descent was reduced to a single cell – one fertilized egg. We have each, with the help of billions of years of evolution, built ourselves from such humble beginnings. We each, if we are to leave children ourselves, must humbly do so through a single cell yet again.

How ennobling science is, to give us such narratives from which to understand our place in the universe!

While you wait …

2010/09/05

My last job ended recently, and after a long search I have found another one.  As this is academia, this one will also be temporary – I am slowly working my way through post-docs until I can achieve that great dream, the Permanent Position (also known as tenure-track).

But I’m not complaining.  This new post will let me work on a very interesting project.  And, while it will take me and my family away from Edinburgh, a fabulous city with wonderful people, it will be taking us to Boston.  Boston is also, reputedly, a fabulous city.  And it also houses many amazing folks.

One of my soon-to-be-fellow-Bostonians, Doug Muder, recently posted some thoughts on humanist spirituality that I thought you might enjoy.  That’s from his blog “Free and Responsible Search”, where he explores the philosophy and theology of Unitarian Universalism.

In this post, he attempts to answer the question “Does spirituality mean anything?” from a humanist standpoint.

I hope to share more thoughts with you after the move, once we are settled in Boston.

What kind of atheist?

2010/03/16

Both Luke at Common Sense Atheism and Sabio at Triangulations have presented taxonomic breakdowns of the sort of differences one finds between atheists.  I thought it might be worth laying out my own position.  See their blog posts for some of the other alternatives in these categories.  I have not used all of their categories, but the following covers the most important points:

Self-labels:

I’ve discussed some of these before.  I prefer to call myself a humanist.  I am also an atheist, agnostic, skeptic, and freethinker.

Level of certainty:

On Dawkins’ scale of 1 (strong belief in a god or gods) to 7 (strong belief in no god), I generally fall around 4.  For most specific claims that I’ve heard made by particular religions, I fall closer to 6 or 7.

Level of affirmation:

I am an implicit (or “weak” or “negative”) atheist:  I withhold belief in the apparent absence of evidence.  I do not assert that there is no god; I simply decline to assert that there is a god.

Scope:

Broad – I apply the same lack of belief to all god-claims I have encountered.

Openness:

I am open about my beliefs, though I am cautious around new acquaintances and certain family members.  I am (obviously) quite open online.

Degree of action:

I affirm my beliefs, I blog about them, and I donate to humanist-themed charities.

Degree of enchantment:

I am a very enchanted naturalist.  I find the natural world (including all of us) to be a truly wonderful place, and am delighted to have some time to experience it and grow to understand it.

Mystical inclination:

I am somewhat mystical, as I understand the term.  Although I enjoy knowing and understanding things, I find a certain amount of delight in thinking about things that my understanding doesn’t (or cannot) penetrate.

Non-theistic leanings:

I incline to believe in an entirely natural universe, with no transcendent personal nature (no god or ur-consciousness).  I am flatly agnostic on the question of a prime mover (the deists’ god).

View of reason:

Reason is the discipline that most reliably allows our deeply-held values to be expressed in effective action.  It is indispensible for leading a fully authentic life.

Faith items:

In the absence of proof (or even the possibility of proof in principle), I believe that my perceptions are caused by real objects and events.  I believe that the past is a generally-reliable guide to the future.

Stance toward religion:

I am relatively indifferent toward beliefs.  Though I am often curious what people believe and why, I am rarely inclined to condemn beliefs in themselves.  As for religiously-motivated actions, I respond to on their individual merits (as I do actions in general).

Religious participation:

I attend a weekly Unitarian service.  I sing along to most of the hymns.  Is that religious participation?  Not to me, though I guess that largely depends how widely you define religion.

Belief history:

I am a lifelong non-believer.  I’ve “tried out” Paganism, Mormonism, and more mainline Christianity.  That is, I have explored them as different ways of approaching the world, and dipped my toe in the practices associated with each.  But I never adopted the beliefs though (so far as I can recall).

Theory of religion:

I am far from certain about this, and am content to leave explanations to those who study it more rigorously (sociologists and psychologists, that is, not theologians).  From what I understand of their findings, I suspect that the existence of religion in the apparent absence of supernatural reality is due to some combination of adaptive cognitive biases and historical accident.

Degree of secular superstitious thinking:

I have bad habits, and habits that are not harmful but are not grounded in reason, but I don’t know of any that could be called superstitious.

Summary:

I hope that this has helped to clarify some of my positions, and perhaps further elucidate what I mean when I call myself an atheist.  As with any such declaration, I reserve the right to change my mind about things as I learn more about myself and about the universe around me.

How about you?  How would you fill in the above categories?

A new blog home

2010/01/10

This is just a quick welcome to this blog’s new home.  It is now hosted by WordPress, and sits on its own domain:  friendlyhumanist.net.

I’m quite busy at work these days, so it may be a while before things settle in with all the usual sidebar items.  I will still aim for at least a weekly post.

As this is a time of change, it would be an ideal time to point out what you have liked or not liked about the blog in the past – what you would like to read more of, what you could do without.

Here’s to another great year in the blogosphere!

More on Free Will

2009/12/24

Since my March article about free will, I’ve learned that my position – that having free will is consistent with a mechanistic model of the universe (with or without quantum uncertainty thrown in) – is known as compatibilism.

I recently read Thomas Pink’s book, Free Will: A Very Short Introduction (from the excellent Very Short Introduction series put out by OUP) – and so I now fancy myself knowledgeable enough to connect my own casual ponderings with the great web of philosophy.

The position Mike took in his article is known as scepticism (in the context of free will, a combination of incompatibilism and a belief in causal determinism – not to be confused with other, more general forms of scepticism).

Guess who Pink identifies as the first compatibilist? Here’s a quote:

A FREE-MAN, is he, that … is not hindred to doe what he has a will to … from the use of the word Free-will, no Liberty can be inferred of the will, desire or inclination, but the Liberty of the man; which consisteth in this, that he finds no stop, in doing what he has the will, desire, or inclination to doe. 

The quote is from p65 of Pink’s book, and it’s by 17th-century English philosopher Thomas Hobbes.

I wouldn’t go so far as to call myself a Hobbesian – he wrote about more than just this, and I don’t know if the whole of his philosophy would appeal to me. But I tend to agree with this quote.

Note that this passage makes no claims about what it means for someone to “have a will to do” something. One thing I like about compatibilism is that it does not rely on a particular model (deterministic, non-deterministic, etc) of the universe.

See also:

Wikipedia article on Free Will.

Image credit:

Image of Hobbes via this collection. (On the topic of this post, check out this fan comic, inspired by the Calvin and Hobbes scene shown here.)

 

Why should humanists be in chaplaincy?

2009/12/18

Humanitie, the quarterly magazine of the Humanist Society of Scotland, has a new issue out. Once again, Mike and I present our rather different perspectives – this time, on the relationship between humanists and chaplaincy. Don’t forget to read Mike’s column over at his blog.

I was recently asked a question about the place of humanists in chaplaincy life. In a chaplaincy, even an inclusive multi-faith chaplaincy, most people are religious. To what extent is it worthwhile and appropriate for humanists and other non-religious people to seek a place in chaplaincy?

The answer is obvious to me. Clearly, though, some religious people and even many humanists don’t see things as I do. So here is my take on it.

First, some background. Our university chaplaincy is very deliberately open to students and staff of “all faiths and none“.

My earliest experience with the chaplaincy was when I was first learning and reading about humanism, and coming to realize that it reflected a deep part of my identity. I started looking for like-minded people, for a community to connect with. I had heard of the chaplaincy and its openness to people of no religion. I visited the chaplain and asked if she knew of any humanist groups at the university. She didn’t, but she thought it would be wonderful if there were a group. She also pointed me to the Humanist Society of Scotland (HSS), which has an Edinburgh group.

There is a whole story following on from that – of attending an HSS philosophy book group, of meeting another humanist student, of forming a student group with him that has become far more active and successful than I expected – but for now let’s look at that first move on my part. Why did I go to the chaplaincy in search of humanists?

First, there was my awareness that the chaplaincy branded itself as inclusive – they reach out not only to religious folks, but to folks like me. Second, for all that some humanists like to distance themselves from religious believers, there is a crucial feature that we share. Humanism is a framework for seeking meaning, for defining an ethical stance, and for sharing inspiration and expressing awe. For most religious people I’ve talked to, their religion does just the same: it provides meaning, defines ethics, and it is the lens through which inspiration and awe are experienced and shared. Also, perhaps even more importantly, both humanism and religions are identities around which human communities gather. So humanism is to me as religion is to religious folks. Even then, new as I was to humanism, I could see that.

So it seemed obvious that the chaplaincy – a place for religious folks to meet like-minded people, a place for people to go for spiritual counselling, and a place that explicitly included non-religious people in its remit – was the right place to look for humanist groups at the university.

And of course, that answers the question I opened with too. If chaplaincy is an obvious place for a lone humanist to go in search of kindred spirits, then chaplaincy is an obvious place for a humanist group to be connected with so that those lone humanists can find us.

Yes, there is the Internet. Yes, there are other avenues for us to find one another. But that’s no reason to shut such an obvious means of connection. Besides, the sort of personal bond that people visiting the chaplaincy tend to seek is not something that can be transmitted through a computer screen.

Of course, there is more to the chaplaincy than just finding folks like yourself. There is also the inter-faith element*. The idea of people of different backgrounds coming together to discover common ground. And I think that’s incredibly valuable. It’s something that’s lacking from a lot of the “culture war” discussions that get headlines. It’s important that humanists are involved in that as well.

True, I may think that the other guy’s god is imaginary. True, he may think that I’m destined for hell if I don’t come to believe as he does. But equally true is the fact that we both value compassion. We both try to buy products whose production doesn’t exploit the vulnerable. We both try to act in ways that will preserve the planet for the next generation. We both strongly believe in each other’s right to believe as we will.

In my experience, there is no place like a multi-faith chaplaincy for bringing people of different backgrounds together and helping us to realize how much we share. Not just superficial stuff. Deep stuff. Important stuff.**

Stuff we can draw on to make the world a better place, together.

That’s why humanists should be involved in chaplaincy, and in other inter-faith endeavours.

Footnotes (not included in the print version):

* Yes, I know, the term inter-faith is problematic for people like us, who consciously set ourselves apart from religious faith. It is also often used in a manner that really does exclude us. But until you can come up with a better term for a meeting of religious and non-religious worldviews, and show that other people will use and understand it, it’s better than nothing.

** A Unitarian church may do the same, but I don’t have enough experience at one yet to say for sure.

 


Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 56 other followers