From Bertrand Russell’s essay “On the value of scepticism” in the collection Sceptical Essays (first published 1928):
The bulk of the population of every country is persuaded that all marriage customs other than its own are immoral, and that those who combat this view only do so in order to justify their own loose lives.
Does this remind you of some contemporary issue? It sure strikes me as familiar.
Here is my latest article in Humanitie. This time, Mike and I squared off on the topic of free will – be sure to read his column as well.
What is free will, and how does it fit into a naturalistic worldview?
Philosophical materialism (common among humanists) is sometimes attacked on the grounds that it precludes the possibility of free will. Here’s how:
Classical Newtonian physics describes a material world operating according to fixed and immutable laws of cause and effect. Under this picture, our actions are fundamentally predetermined: we can only act one way in any particular situation. Scratch free will.
Quantum physics rescues us from this clockwork universe, but only by injecting randomness into the equation. Randomness is not really free will either, so this escape from determinism does nothing to restore free will.
While they are interesting, I don’t really think that either of these observations – the deterministic behaviours apparent on the large scale, or the quarky randomness that emerges at the quantum level – does any violence to the idea of free will.
The key thing about free will is not what it looks like from the atom’s perspective, nor from the galaxy’s perspective. The key thing is what it looks like from your perspective. It’s probably true that your mind is just the sum of the neural activity of your brain cells; and their actions are in turn the sum of the electrical and chemical events happening at a molecular level; and so on down to quarks and leptons and whatnot.
That’s interesting. Fascinating, in fact.
But for the question of free will, so what? Free will, as it bears on your actual life, is about being able to put your choices into action. Whatever you think lies behind this “me” – be it atoms and photons or soul and immaterial will – it is still meaningful to talk about “me”: what “I” wish, and what “I” do.
As a humanist, I value human life because of properties it has at the human level: consciousness, the capacity to feel pleasure and pain, self-improvement and a desire to understand things. Their value lies not in where they come from, or why they are here, but simply that they are here.
So it is with free will. Its value does not depend on some theory about why we have it; it is valuable because of what it is on the human level. Newtonian clockwork determinism or quantum multiverse randomness are fine for philosophers and physicists. But for me, here and now, there are far more important questions about free will. Do all people have the political freedom to exercise free will? What does a physical addiction mean for free will?
I know it might sound like I’m just defining away the problem of free will. That’s philosophy for you. Sometimes it’s not a matter of subtle, esoteric reasoning; sometimes it’s a matter of identifying the right definition. The right question.
So ask yourself: when it comes to free will, what is important to you – quarks and galaxies or human intentions?
A couple of years ago, Daniel Dennett had emergency heart surgery. People asked him how this close call with death had affected his non-religious outlook. His response was an excellent consciousness-raiser. Here’s an excerpt:
Yes, I did have an epiphany. I saw with greater clarity than ever before in my life that when I say “Thank goodness!” this is not merely a euphemism for “Thank God!” (We atheists don’t believe that there is any God to thank.) I really do mean thank goodness! There is a lot of goodness in this world, and more goodness every day, and this fantastic human-made fabric of excellence is genuinely responsible for the fact that I am alive today. It is a worthy recipient of the gratitude I feel today, and I want to celebrate that fact here and now.
Saying “Thank God!” as an expression of genuine relief is not always backed by an actual religious sentiment, any more than a reflexive “bless you” after someone sneezes is an attempt to prevent demons from entering through your open mouth. So many people may be thinking, “So what? Does it really matter which word I use?”
But Dennett’s reflections made me think. What we say – even if we only mean it in the most formulaic, casual sense – can convey ideas that we do not intend. And it can fail to point our gratitude in the right direction.
In the weeks after I read Dennett’s article, I made a conscious effort to use “thank goodness”, an expression which reflects my actual beliefs better. It wasn’t long before it became completely natural to use that rather than the less appropriate “thank God”. It’s still a little less natural than the other version, but I kind of like that. It means that, every time I say “thank goodness”, I am made every-so-slightly conscious of what term I’m using, and why.
What do you think? Do you try, like me, to keep your speech representative of your beliefs? Are you a non-theist but happy to use phrases like “thank God” and “bless you”, since they’ve basically been leached of their original meanings anyway?
Or, if you are a believer in a god, what do you think of this whole matter?
Among the blogs I follow is one by a Unitarian: Free and Responsible Search. Last week, Doug posted a story that he related at the Valentine’s Day service in his church, that really nails why I love the UUs. Here’s a teaser:
When Lucy Stone was a little girl, she decided that she was never, ever, ever going to get married.
She had a pretty good reason for making that decision, because she was living back in the 1800s. And in those days, when a man and a woman got married, the man became the boss. It said so right in the law. So if a woman owned some property, well, when she got married it wasn’t her property any more; it was her husband’s property. And if she had a job and made a little money – it wasn’t her money, it was her husband’s money. Because he was the boss.
Lucy didn’t want to have a boss, so one day she announced to her mother that she was never, ever, ever going to get married. And her mother said something that parents say a lot. I know I heard it from my parents and maybe you’ve heard it from yours. Her mother said: “When you get older, you’ll change your mind.”
Read the rest to learn why I wouldn’t mind at all if Kaia were to grow up among this particular religious community.
Have you heard of Jessica Hagy’s index cards? You should have.
They’re all good, but this recent post seemed worth highlighting:
A while ago, I read Richard Holloway‘s excellent book, Godless Morality. I hope in time to address it in more depth. It is, very boldly, an argument that even without setting aside their god-belief, people who believe in a god can benefit from developing a moral system that does not depend on that god’s commands or instructions.
This is a valuable argument to make, not just as a personal philosophical exercise, but also as a window on how we can all – believers in all different religious ideas as well as non-believers – construct and build on common ground in our efforts to live harmoniously alongside one another.
Until I can get to a more thorough review, let me share with you what I think is basically the core of the book – a quote from the first chapter (“Ethical Jazz”): (p31 – emphasis added)
Today, authority has to earn respect by the intrinsic value of what it says, not by the force of its imposition. There is a loss in this situation, of course, because power transitions are always dangerously unstable periods in human history, but there is unlikely to be a wholesale return to the past and its values unless we are overtaken by a mass religious movement that obliterates the radically plural nature of contemporary society. Barring that unlikely eventuality, we must do what we can to construct moral agreements that will have the authority of our reason and the discipline of our consent.
Yesterday was a real milestone for me – a culmination of five years of thinking and working and writing and rethinking and reworking and rewriting. To have it declared worthy of the honour of a PhD degree was probably the most satisfying moment of my academic career so far.
But I think the high point of the day was later. After the three hours of the viva, after an afternoon of congratulations from friends and colleagues, after an evening in the pub recounting the events of the day and sharing stories with fellow students and academics.
The high point came when I was home again, and I was putting Kaia to bed, and she fell asleep on my chest.
Ahh, perspective.
Over at Daylight Atheism, Ebonmuse has a piece on freedom of speech as it relates to blasphemy, a topic of some current import. Here are a couple of key excerpts:
It happened at the U.N., where a bloc of Islamic nations successfully pushed through a resolution demanding “respect” for shariah law, with the shocking result that things like child marriage or the stoning of women can no longer be discussed by the U.N. Human Rights Council.
And:
If free speech is circumscribed by the “right” of religious groups to be protected from offense, then it is an empty and meaningless freedom. Any religious sect can stifle any speech, just by taking offense at what is said. We as a species can never make moral progress if those laws shelter evil superstitions from the light of scrutiny and let them fester in the shadows.
I agree. Restricting freedom of speech because it offends someone – for whatever reason – is unjustifiable.*
To demonstrate this in the most obvious way possible, let me list some of the things that offend my ethical sensibilities as a humanist**:
So, by the logic of the people pushing the anti-blasphemy laws, if blasphemy against the religion of another is illegal, it should also be illegal to (1) promote the common religious idea of eternal damnation for nonbelievers, (2) promote ID as a valid scientific competitor to evolution as an explanation for the development of life, (3) cite scriptures (there are many) denouncing nonbelievers as corrupt, (4) exclude same-sex couples from marriage, and (5) promote, pass, or enforce anti-blasphemy laws.
Now, of course, I don’t claim the right to not be offended. So if anyone out there thinks there is any validity to having laws specifically prohibiting blasphemous speech, you can come right on over here and …
… engage in a reasoned and open discussion of the issue, trying to persuade one another of the validity of our positions in a mutual desire to find the best solution. That is how civilized people respond when they are offended.
* Before anyone calls me out for being inconsistent, let me say that my support for Caroline Petrie’s suspension was not based on my being offended, but on her misuse of a position of power.
** And let me be clear: in this context, humanist sensibilities must be given equal weight to religious sensibilities, or we are left with intolerable religious discrimination.
From a poem by George Russell that I encountered as a hymn at the local Unitarian church, I offer this delicious and profound verse:
No blazoned banner we unfold—
One charge alone we give to youth,
Against the sceptred myth to hold
The golden heresy of truth.
What better legacy could we carry forward, from ancient skeptics and enlightenment humanists, through us, and on to our children: the golden heresy of truth.
Humanitie, the quarterly publication of the Humanist Society of Scotland, is out now. In it is my second column, included below. Visit the Not Quite So Friendly Humanist for the twin column. (Confession: I cadged my title from his. It was too good not to.)
I’m a vegetarian. I don’t eat meat because I don’t want to cause the deaths of sentient beings. I cannot justify killing them (or paying someone else to kill them) just for my pleasure or convenience. It is a decision based on deeply-held values, and one I try to stick to despite frequent temptations. It is also, I think, a natural consequence of humanist philosophy – indeed, an essay by humanist philosopher A.C. Grayling was the catalyst for my shift to vegetarianism this past February.*
Having grown up omnivorous, it has been difficult to become vegetarian. Despite the strong rational and compassionate argument for vegetarianism, the habits and tastes of thirty years cannot easily be set aside. I miss the taste of meat: steaks, fish suppers, roast beef sandwiches. It is against this non-rational urging that my ethical decision always fights. I am happy to say that my daughter will not have that struggle: deciding between a vegetarian or an omnivorous diet, she will not be distracted by the irrational influence of habit and custom.
I’ve had a wide range of reactions since becoming vegetarian: indifference, curiosity, even encouragement and support. Mostly indifference, though. It’s no more an issue to most people than declaring a taste for Thai food. But for some people, my vegetarianism is not so easy to accept.
For example, my parents have told me that, by calling my choice an “ethical” one, I imply that their choice is an unethical one. Not only that, my dad raises beef cattle – so my choice also implicitly condemns his work.
I want to be clear: I do not condemn people who choose to include meat in their diet. Eating meat does not mean they are less ethical. Am I being hypocritical, holding myself to one standard and others to a different one?
No. Humanist ethics need not polarize the world of choice into right and wrong, good and bad. Human understanding is imperfect and provisional; this inherent humility of humanism means that I do not set up every personal choice as absolute and universal.
We are a somewhat smarter type of ape, using our ape senses and our ape reasoning to construct meaning and purpose in a confusing and ambiguous world. This ambiguity requires us to be flexible and accommodating of the various ways that people infuse the world with value.
I encourage everyone to think about our kinship with other animals. Consider carefully whether the value of their lives is so small as to be outweighed by the comfort of our habits, or by the slightly greater convenience of constructing an adequate diet with meat.
Think about it, and try to be true to your convictions. Whatever they are. That’s all I ask.
* “Speciesism”, from The Meaning of Things
How does the humanist outlook on life affect one's thoughts and actions? I share my own perspective on life's puzzles and the events this life throws at me, as I explore the personal implications of this noble and ancient approach to life.
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