Humanism, atheism and other freedoms

There’s an excellent article – My Christmas message? There’s probably no God – by the reliably feisty Polly Toynbee over at the Guardian website. Aside from being a leading journalist, Ms Toynbee is the president of the inestimable British Humanist Association (BHA – of which I am a proud member).

The piece is largely about the disestablishment of the church in the UK – a fine ambition but one not likely to be realised any time soon. For those who live in more enlightened countries with regard to religion, one might need to explain that the ‘establishment’ of the Church of England refers to the fact that it is the official state faith. And this has greater implications than the choice of carols sung at the House of Commons Xmas party.

For example, although there has been some slight reform of Parliament’s upper house, the Lords, there are still 26 unelected bishops who sit – and vote – in the house purely by dint of their cassocks. And the very existence of an established church provides ammunition for those who would perpetuate the myth of Britain being a ‘Christian’ country.

And yet, though I (and, as it happens, many church leaders) would like to see disestablishment, the fact that the UK has a state religion bothers me less than the more surreptitious ways in which religion is creeping into government business.

Given that ex-Prime Minister Tony Blair was so cosy with soon to be ex-President George W Bush, one might not be surprised to find that – following the American model – faith-based organisations are playing an ever greater role in government programmes in the UK.

Such faith-based initiatives have been a disaster for the US. For instance, there are countless examples of evangelists with no training or experience running such things as drug counselling programmes. Usually, the hapless victims who attend them do so under duress – usually at the order of a court. And the so-called ‘counselling’ often consists of no more than religious indoctrination.

In the UK, both Blair and his successor, the equally god-bothering Gordon Brown, have seen to it that organisations with religious agenda have been given preferential treatment in winning contracts to carry on what should be government work. There are more details at the BHA site, which explains:

Faith communities already have privileged access to Government. But the Government also wants to involve them in policy making, and to expand their role in the provision of services in the community. And why doesn’t Human Rights Law apply when public services are contracted out to charities?

Depressingly, President-Elect Barack Obama has stated that he wants to increase the use of faith-based initiatives. And there is no sign that this trend is abating in the UK.

The BHA is highly active in campaigning against this. It has the respect of politicians and the more progressive and intelligent members of the clergy. And I would recommend that anyone who lives in or cares about the UK should become a member.

What the UK needs isn’t just disestablishment but a genuine separation of church and state – along the lines of that in France, rather than the somewhat poor impementation of the principle in the US. The state should and must represent all citizens. Faiths are, by their very nature, exclusionary and discriminatory and they have no place in government business.

It’s always amazed me that certain religions, which claim to have a route to illuminating and transcendental truths, so often resort to underhand, aggressive and even immoral methods to get people to see things their way. People, it seems, cannot be trusted to come to the light purely through the self-evident beauty and purity of the truth itself: they must be forced.

Among the cults most notorious for this kind of behaviour, the Church of Scientology (CoS) stands the most frequently accused of malicious and unethical tactics.

Most of us have experienced the cult’s mendacious ways. When I lived in London, I lost count of the number of times I was offered a ‘personality test’ by glassy eyed Scientology footsoldiers in Tottenham Court Road. As we all know, the so-called test is just the false cover for a psychological trap designed to suck in the dishearted, disenfranchised or vulnerable.

That’s bad enough. But at least in the street you can hurry by with little more than a faint creeping of the scalp. Two men in the US weren’t so lucky, they say. They have brought legal action against their ex-employer – software company Diskeeper – for unfair dismissal. The men refused to go on training courses laid on by the firm. The reason they give is that these were Scientology-based courses.

Diskeeper’s boss, Craig Jensen, is a Scientology evangelist. His name previously hit the headlines because the company’s product was included in Windows 2000. Rumours abounded about the possibility of the software sending data from users’ hard disks to the Church of Scientology. The idea so disconcerted the Government of Germany (where the CoS is outlawed) that it demanded that Microsoft show it the source code before approving Windows 2000 for government use. Microsoft refused but provided a tool to delete the utility. That didn’t help quash the rumours.

So, what kind of message does Scientology have that it can only get it across by tricking or forcing people into hearing it?

Of course, the CoS is famously averse to criticism. A book, The Complex, by ex-Scientology warrior John Duignan remains unavailable from Amazon’s UK store – indeed, as far as I can work out, it’s unavailable from all branches of Amazon except the US. Even there, it was pulled for a while, with rumours that Tom Cruise himself was behind the intimidation of Amazon.

What is it they fear? If what the Scientologists claim is true, we would all migrate naturally to their way of thinking. If the attacks on the cult are untrue, surely they could gain no traction against the power of the church’s message.

Any philosophy or science that relies on legal threats, intimidation, coercion, violence and forcible indoctrination to assure belief and allegiance among its members is inherently suspect. These are the tools of totalitarianism, and totalitarian regimes – as we all know – are built on lies.

The Complex by John Duignan is available from:  Amazon.com

Deciding what constitutes ‘discrimination’ isn’t always an easy matter.But an employment tribunal in London has just made a very wise decision.

Lillian Ladele was a registrar with Islington Council, in North London. One of her duties was conducting marriages – and, with recent changes to the law, this now extends to civil unions for gay and lesbian couples.

But there was a problem. Ladele is a Christian, and she decided that her beliefs did not allow her to carry out such unions. She refused to perform gay weddings. Islington Council fired her.

She took the council to an employment tribunal, which sided with her. They found that she had been discriminated against on religious grounds. But the case went to appeal, and the employment appeal tribunal rightly concluded that it was not the council but Ladele herself who was guilty of discrimination.

The duties of a registrar are defined by law. Ladele’s religious beliefs are her own, personal choice. If these prevent her from carrying out the duties of a registrar then, clearly, she is not competent to fulfill that role. When the law – and therefore the duties of a registrar – changed, Ladele should have asked herself whether she should continue in that role. It was a matter for her personal conscience. What she decided to do was to attempt to remain in her job and force her views on others by saying that she would not carry out that job properly. This was a selfish and unreasonable decision by her.

She claims that she never intended to deny the rights of gay people. But that was precisely what she was doing. They do, indeed, have a right to a civil union. She has no right to deprive them of this merely because of her personal beliefs. This is not a religious issue – religion has no place in such government business. This is a civil liberties issue and Ladele is clearly guilty of eroding the civil liberties in Islington.

The council is not guiltless in all this. The tribunal found that they had handled the situation badly. Nevertheless, the key issue has been successfully resolved: it is now clear that a government functionary does not have the right to discriminate against people purely of the basis of that functionary’s private and irrelevant beliefs. A victory for common sense.

Spirituality is religion’s last-ditch defence, the final redoute of superstition. Let me explain.

Currently in the UK, around one million people attend Anglican church services on Sundays. That’s about 2% of the population. A recent study by Christian Research, part of the Bible Society, has suggested that, by 2050, this will decline to around a tenth of that figure. The response of the church has been to say that people are celebrating their religion in different ways – at home, for example, or at car boot sales (seriously).

Even if one accepts that excuse, there’s another conculusion that flows from it – one the church authorities probably would not like to acknowledge. And it’s that the figures then clearly show a decline in organised religion, or in any kind of religion if one defines the latter as adherence to specific creeds, philosophies or dogma.

That isn’t news. Religion proper has lost its grip in all modern, advanced societies (with, perhaps, the freakish exception of the USA). Even Tony Blair, ex-Prime Minister of the UK, confessed that he had had to mask the degree of his religious belief for fear of being regarded “a nutter”.

While it is often said that around three-quarters of the UK population (precise figures vary) are ‘Christian’, we know this to be a cultural rather than spritiual phenomenon, much like non-believers being cultural Jews or cultural Muslims. This is the proportion of the population that ticks the box marked ‘Christian’ out of habit, or because of a lack of a viable alternative. Similarly, people continue to have children christened because it is one of those social events that you do. (There are many members of my extended family who were so baptised, or had their children baptised, even though there isn’t a believer among the lot of them. Luckily, that doesn’t include me.)

So, being religious is increasingly regarded as an aberration. But this decline in religion has left behind a residue.

It’s not uncommon for someone who does not adhere to any specific religious mythology to say that they are, nevertheless ‘spiritual’. What exactly does this mean?

Even those who know me, who understand that I am an atheist, a humanist, and rationalist, sometimes ask me how I nurture the spiritual side of my nature. They are surprised, sometimes offended, when I explain that I don’t have one.
Spirituality is the human flaw that leads to religion. It is a weakness. It is the metaphorical throwing up of hands and saying, “I don’t understand, therefore it must be mysterious”.

Not everything can be explained. The fantastic and ever-expanding body of knowledge that is science – mankind’s richest treasure – is and always will be partial. This is why people become scientists. They are explorers venturing into the unknown, expanding our understanding, shining light where there was darkness. And yet there will always be elements of our existence and the universe around us that will remain beyond our comprehension.

There are many reasons for this. The universe is a staggeringly complex place. No body of knowledge, however large, could possibly match this complexity. And mankind has evolved to fill a niche in this universe: our minds and our senses are designed to function within this niche. They are specialised for a tiny subset of the phenomena the universe has to offer. For example, unaided, we cannot see things that are minutely small. We cannot perceive the passage of time on a geological scale. There may be many natural processes that we are not equipped to notice, let alone explain. And there may be phenomena we will simply never encounter.

The challenge is, what do we do about this?

We already know one response: it is to say that whatever is beyond our comprehension must be the work of supernatural forces. This isn’t just feeble, it’s dishonest and arrogant.

It’s intellectually dishonest because, at the same time as saying that we don’t know, we are inventing an explanation. Ascribing phenomena to the gods is a process of saying that we do know, that it works like this. By resorting to spirituality, we are saying that we have an answer for everything – a profoundly arrogant act for a lowly mammal that has existed for so short a time.

At the same time, this approach abandons all the disciplines that underscore rational philosophies. So it’s feeble because we’re saying “this is too hard, let’s just make something up”. Explaining the universe through science and mathematics is hard. It requires intelligence, intellectual rigour and training. It demands hard work and a constant struggle to expand the concepts, laws and techniques that enable this understanding. Above all, it requires the honesty to say, “We don’t know. Maybe we’ll never know”.

We are mere mammals. There is no good reason to suppose that we could know everything. To think otherwise is an anthropocentric conceit.

Actually, some among the religious also admit these gaps in our knowledge. They say that such things are only for god to know. This sounds like humility but is, in fact, the opposite. What it’s saying is: “It’s not my fault I don’t know. Neither I nor my philosophy is at fault here: because this is something that cannot be known.” That’s like a Victorian proclaiming “heavier-than-air flight is impossible because I cannot do it”. It is hubris.

As we know, science, in the few hundred years in which it has been established, has rapidly and repeatedly chipped away at the ignorance of the faithful. It has provided explanation and understanding for much that was in the dark pool of ignorance from which religion draws. To surrender to god in this way is a response that looks less and less tenable every day.

Resorting to a spiritual explanation is to give up trying. It is as though people reach a limit to their comprehension and beyond it simply scrawl “here be dragons”. Scientists, on the other hand, reach that precipice and use it as a vantage point from which to gaze longingly into the void thinking “what sense can we make of this?”.

I can understand how this happens. Some people are afraid of the idea that there are things we cannot explain. Others prefer the trite mythologies of faith to the intellectual challenges of science – it’s an easier option. I guess some just like the stories.

This is why I say that spirituality is a weakness. It is, indeed, the basic mechanism upon which religions are built.

As organised religions lose their grip, some people still cling to more nebulous forms of spirituality – not because it contains any inherent truth or performs any valuable function, but simply because it is comforting in a complex, mysterious and threatening world. And so, as the more formalised faiths crumble, it is not surprising that their place may be taken by imported or home-grown mysticisms of various shades of woolliness and silliness.

Humankind has no destiny. We are the result of an incalculable sequence of accidents and random events. In the words of a cynical song from the World War One trenches (sung to the tune of Auld Lang Syne), “We’re here because we’re here because we’re here because we’re here”. But if one was to set us a goal, the achievement of which would be reasonable cause for pride, it would be the final eradication of the weakness that is spirituality and the summoning of the honesty to say that we can’t explain everything.

This festive season is traditionally a time when Christians get their knickers in a twist about the ‘meaning’ of Christmas. As usual, the traditionalists are loudly moaning about Xmas being devalued by materialism, about people forgetting why Christ was put on this planet (you know, the one about how he came to absolve us of sin – something invented for no apparent reason by his father).

Cathy Lynn Grossman has a nice piece about this over at USA Today. She reports:

Christmas without the specter of the cross, without awareness that this is a baby born to die for mankind’s sins, is a fancied-up fraud, says Horton, professor of theology and apologetics at Westminster Seminary California, and associate pastor at Christ United Reformed Church in Santee, Calif.

There are some slight surprises in the piece, too. One spokesperson for an interfaith organisation actually confesses that the US “is becoming a secular society” and that peace, goodwill to all people and generally ethical behaviour might be more important than archaic rituals and dogma. Quite.

But let’s not dismiss history and tradition entirely. There are good reasons for celebrating at this time of year.

So, what is Christmas all about? The Winter solstice, of course, when the days start to get longer again and we can look forward to Spring. This was a festival linked directly to nature – to an important marker in daily life that concerned the environment we all share, beyond the petty fantasies that a more ignorant age liked to concoct. It’s a shame the Christians stole it.

If you want to get back to the real meaning of this festival, forget about Christ.

The Human Fertilisation and Embryology Bill, recently passed in the UK, was a triumph for reason, science and common sense. But not everyone has seen it that way: one religious group has tried to have the law overturned.

One of the advances permitted by the Bill is the use of cross-species research. Scientists believe this research – monitored and regulated by the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Authority (HFEA) – may unlock the secrets of cures for such devastating diseases as cancers and HIV/AIDS. Two licences have been issued by the HFEA – to Newcastle University and King’s College London – allowing work on human hybrid embryos.

This research can only be of great benefit to mankind. It has the potential to release untold numbers of people from suffering and premature death. Yet one small section of society feels that its archaic and bizarre supernatural fantasies give it the right to deny this benefit to the whole of society. The scaremongering by certain factions – that this research would create ‘monsters’ – shows an ignorance of science that one might expect from people whose intellectual framework was formed 2,000 years ago and hasn’t evolved since.

The Christian Legal Centre (CLC) brought an action in the High Court in an attempt to have the law overturned. Fortunately, common sense prevailed. The judge threw out the case saying that it had no merit whatsover and was “unarguable”. More importantly, she underlined that this kind of research is clearly “the will of Parliament” (you know, the democratic body that represents everyone, not just minority cults). CLC was ordered to pay £20,000 costs.

I’m sure this won’t make these arrogant Christians change their minds about this research. Nor will it help them bring their thinking into the 21st Century. But it might just give them pause for thought the next time their try to impose their narrow beliefs on a society that doesn’t share them.

The freeing of Doctor Humayra Abedin is a sign of hope – that the medieval practices of some religions are at last losing their grip.

Dr Abedin was tricked into returning to her family’s home in Bangladesh. She was told that her mother was ill. The true reason for enticing her there was to force her into marriage. Her parents held her captive, even claiming that she was not mentally competent to make decisions for herself.

The doctor has lived in the UK since 2002, where she undertook medical studies. She is a trainee General Practitioner (GP).

The UK has a new law, the Forced Marriage Act, making the kind of arrangement her parents had in mind illegal in this country. Bangladesh had already outlawed forced marriages, and the lead judge in the case, Judge Syed Mahmud Hossain, went out of his way to make in clear that the parents’ actions were “not acceptable” – a strong statement in that culture.

So, thankfully, Dr Abedin is heading back to the UK, and we wish her well. What she went through must have been a nightmare: for an intelligent, highly trained woman in her thirties, living in a modern society, to be suddenly propelled back into the medieval mindset that can contemplate such barbarism as forced marriage, must have seemed like the world being turned upside down.

Her parents, motivated by religious fervour, were prepared not only to break the law, but to lie to and imprison their own daughter. So much for religion as the root of morality.

Of course, this is the moment when the religious trot out their well-rehearsed speeches. “My religion wouldn’t have caused this. My religion is better than that.”

But as faith involves the abnegation of reason, religious belief inevitably creates the potential for illegal or unacceptable behaviour, especially when it demands allegiance in prefence to temporal laws or the commonsense rules of society.

Just how much are fundamentalist and bigoted religious views driving Sarah Palin’s bid for the VP slot?

And given that Palin has now been found, by an enquiry, to have acted unethically, can she be trusted in such a powerful position?

A storm has brewed up over the practice, by British faith schools, of hiring only those teachers who practice that faith. But once again, a deeper issue goes largely unchallenged.

Teacher unions have complained that the hiring policies at these schools is discriminatory. The schools and their supporters have responded that it is natural to want to have teachers who share the pupils’ faith. On TV this morning, I saw one religious journalist (didn’t catch her name) saying: “If you’re going to have faith schools, then they should teach the ethos of the faith and who best to do that than teachers who share that faith?” (the quote is from memory but is faithful to the meaning).

The argument over hiring practices is to do with the last part of that statement. The real issue lies in the first part.

Of the 21,000 schools in the UK, nearly a third – 6,850 – are faith schools. They are all government funded – that is, their money comes from our taxes. All but a small minority of these are Christian, either Roman Catholic or Church of England. Around 40 are Jewish and there are just a few for Sikhs, Muslims and Greek Orthodox.

Why do faith schools exist? It must be for the benefit of the parents, not the children.

A child’s mind is unformed, unfinished. The function of a school is to assist a child along the path of becoming a fully formed individual, and to do this through education, opening their minds to new ideas. As Richard Dawkins so memorably described in ‘The God Delusion’, a child is not a Christian or a Muslim or a Sikh. Those are complex belief systems with profound implications for one’s moral and philosophical outlook and adopting them requires – or, at least, should require – deep introspection and intellectual analysis. Children are not capable of this. Becoming a Christian, or whatever, is a process that should not take place, cannot honestly and convincingly take place, until adulthood.

Religious education is a process of shutting off other avenues of thought – rational avenues. If you want evidence of that, just look at a recent investigation by More4 News which found that creationism (a profoundly anti-educational mythology) is being taught by 14 out of 19 Jewish schools that responded, all 21 of evangelical schools following the Accelerated Christian Education syllabus, and half the Islamic schools contacted. Even five state schools confessed to teaching creationism. The investigation concluded that over 5,800 pupils were being taught this irrational and insupportable fairy tale – that they are, in other words, being taught lies.

But that’s the answer to our question. Faith schools exist to teach lies. They exist to indoctrinate the children into the ways of their parents. They exist to narrow children’s minds, not open them.

Some parents argue that they send their children to faith schools because the schools have good performance records. And this is true. But it is purely because the schools have callously exploited loopholes in the law that allow them to select only the brightest children – which would be illegal for state schools. (Presumably that leaves equally faithful, but less bright children to take their chances.)

Religion should be a private matter. If parents want their children to believe in the same myths they do, then that particular form of child abuse should be confined to the home. Ultimately, we can’t stop vulnerable children’s minds being twisted and narrowed in this way, but this abuse should not be supported by the state.

So solving the issue of discriminatory hiring practices is easy. Get rid of faith schools. There is no good reason to have them.

Richard Dawkins’ ‘The God Delusion’ is available from:
 Amazon.co.uk |  Amazon.com

The case of the British muslim who forced his children to flog themselves has rightly caused outrage – including among many in the muslim community. But are we in danger of missing a more important point?

The Ashura ceremony, part of the month-long period of ‘mourning’ known as Muharram, is an important part of the Shia calendar. It calls for blood. To commemorate the slaughter of Muhammed’s grandson and his family, many men indulge themselves in self-flagellation – a ritual they apparently call ‘zanjeer zani’.

Syed Zaidi, who was brought up in Pakistan, has long been one of them. But he went further. In a ceremony at a community centre in Levenshulme, near Manchester, he first ensured his own blood was flowing before passing his zanjeer – a chained whip with five blades – to two young boys, aged 13 and 15.

In court, the boys said they were ‘forced’ to whip themselves. Zaidi claims they were willing (though presumably under intense peer pressure to join in). Under the law it makes no difference. Adults have a duty to ensure that children under the age of 16 do not come to harm – which includes harming themselves.

Christopher Hitchens has famously condemned the religous indoctrination of children as child abuse. There could be no more graphic illustration than this bloody ritual. Allowing this to happen to these young boys was an act of both primitive savagery and callous stupidity.

Many in the muslim community agree. Some are organising blood donations as a way of partaking in the commemoration in a more civilised fashion. It seems that having young boys flog themselves is taking religious zealotry beyond the theshold of acceptable behaviour for most in our society.

What none of this addresses is the damage already done to these boys. One needs to ask if, once they achieve the age of 16, it would be perfectly acceptable for these boys – who would, indeed, still be boys – to indulge in tearing their own flesh. The Early Christians used to partake in similar self-mortification which the Romans considered disgustingly uncivilised. They were right. That was 2,000 years ago and Christianity, at least in that respect, has grown up a little.

What kind of damage must be done to the psyche, to one’s moral framework, to one’s grip on civilisation, to accept this kind of behaviour from anyone of any age as admirable, worthwhile or even sensible?

In order to reach that point where the boys would even consider taking the whip in hand, they had to pass through a process of religious indoctrination. Childhood should be a period of learning, of opening the mind. But religious education is all about closing it, narrowing the possibilities and outlook, shutting off avenues of thought, conforming to a blinkered – and frequently archaic and bizarre – worldview.

The fact that anyone could consider these boys as ‘muslims’ is an indication that child abuse had taken place long before the blades tore into their skin. It’s not the whip from which they need to be protected – it’s the path that leads to it.