Humanism, atheism and other freedoms

Pope John Paul II - not a well man

According to a new book, Pope John Paul II regularly whipped himself. At other times, and in spite of illness, he slept on a bare floor. This, apparently, makes him eligible for sainthood.

To the faithful, the self-flagellation and hardship, in emulation of Christ’s suffering, are heroic. But outside the warped logic of faith, is there any other context in which this kind of behaviour wouldn’t be regarded as unbalanced?

The details of the late Pope’s masochism come in a new book, Why He Is a Saint: the Real John Paul II. It’s by Vatican official Monsignor Slawomir Oder who will be in charge of the process that will probably end in John Paul II’s canonisation (so it’s probably not a very balanced view of the erstwhile Pontiff).

There could be no clearer illustration of how religious and real-world perspectives do not align.

To the faithful Roman Catholic, John Paul II’s actions demonstrate devotion and courage.

To the ordinary human being, such behaviour seems suspiciously deviant. Indulging in such masochism suggests mental disorder, perhaps with sexual overtones. Masochism, after all, frequently has sexual implications, and in a sect that imposes lifelong celibacy (in theory) on its priests, one might expect many different manifestations of aberrant psychosexual pathology.

Even without such dark overtones, this behaviour still seems odd. To deliberately hurt oneself in emulation of a character in a fictional story is hardly normal, is it? What would we make, for example, of a teenager who chose to live in a wardrobe to honour the story of Narnia? That’s right – we’d get them help. And that’s without them self-harming – a sure sign of psychological issues.

This wouldn’t be the first time that behaviour which would seem odd or unacceptable to society at large is excused by religious adherence. There is a broad spectrum ranging from violent jihad to the Church of England’s recent fight to protect its ‘right’ to discriminate against homosexuals. Right now, in Kansas, a man is claiming that his religious beliefs left him no choice but to murder a doctor.

It’s also worth remembering that, when he wasn’t enjoying a sound self-whipping, Pope John Paul II lived in an environment of fantastic wealth and privilege.

Still, the Roman Catholic church has elevated people to sainthood on any number of feeble premises. It’s a form of marketing. By making people saints, you’re saying, ‘See how our church contains so many good and righteous people’. It helps counter the bad press the church gets for its paedophile priests and its effective genocide-by-AIDS in Africa.

Most organised religions are fundamentally bizarre. They involve a wholesale acceptance of strange and improbable ideas. Most of the time, we let this slide, because many of these ideas have become entrenched as part of the whole patchwork that is our mythological and historical landscape.

But occasionally, something crops up that makes you step back and think, “wow, now that’s weird”. This is one of those occasions, and it’s the clearest sign you could ask for of the gulf between faith and the real world.

We are wearily familiar with the way certain religionists attempt to impose their ideas on others. You don’t have to travel back to the days of the Inquisition to see this happening. You can find examples in most societies today – sometimes in overt forms, sometimes in more subtle ways.

It doesn’t come more overt than the terrorism of Islamic extremists. That’s the dangerous end of the spectrum – dangerous, that is, to life and limb. The same goes for loony evangelicals willing to murder doctors because they believe everyone must agree with an attitude to abortion guided by antique superstition.

But what of those subtle forms? Well, how about a pharmacist who makes it difficult for you to get the medicines you need?

The UK’s General Pharmaceutical Council (GPC) is currently drawing up new regulatory standards for the profession, covering areas such as confidentiality, education and ethics. You wouldn’t think that issues of faith would be a factor here. Alas, myths and prejudices formed thousands of years ago continue to affect our daily lives, however much we like to believe we live in a rational age.

It seems that some pharmacists like to bring their prejudices to work with them. There have been cases, for example, of pharmacists refusing to supply patients with the morning-after pill, in spite of doctors having prescribed it legally and in the best interests of the patients.

I’m not suggesting that only rationalists and humanists may become pharmacists. I’m simply saying that, when you’re a pharmacist, your duty and obligation to society must override any faith you hold, not the other way around.

The British Humanist Association (BHA) is participating in the GBC’s consultation process. The BHA’s stand is, as always, very reasonable:

If pharmacists are allowed to refuse certain services to patients because they believe it conflicts with their beliefs to supply such services, it should never be the case that those accessing services should suffer. At a minimum, it should be expected that the patient or the public be referred to someone who can meet their needs – but only if this would not cause them any distress or particular inconvenience.

It’s not just pharmacists who sometimes encounter a conflict between their social responsibilities and their mystical beliefs. In the past, we’ve seen examples of registrars employed by local councils refusing to conduct civil union (ie, marriage) ceremonies for same-sex couples. In fact, one can easily draw up a list that might also include doctors and other medical professionals, government functionaries and other posts where people perform important tasks for members of the public. These are posts where the performance of the job may have profound effects on people’s lives. And they are jobs in which religion plays no part, per se.

So, should religionists be able to decide whether to carry out their job functions based on their faith?

Of course not. That’s a clear dereliction of duty, both in the strict context of the person’s employment and in the wider context of their duty to society. It is an imposition of their own, narrow beliefs on the people they should be serving.

So, what is a religionist with deep convictions to do? If, for example, a pharmacist genuinely believes that supplying a morning-after pill to a women is tantamount to the murder of a would-be baby, what is the right course of action?

It’s simple. Get another job.

Even better, don’t become a pharmacist in the first place. If you have deep-seated beliefs that make it difficult or impossible for you to carry out certain actions, don’t take a job that involves those actions. Dispensing contraceptives is a regular part of a pharmacist’s job. If your beliefs prevent you from doing that, then you are not fit to be a pharmacist. Civil unions are legal in the UK. If your faith stops you from conducting such ceremonies, you are not competent to be a registrar.

You can be religious and still be a pharmacist or registrar or hold some other post that impinges on people’s lives. Just recognise that your spiritual beliefs are a personal choice that have nothing to do with the job. So leave your faith out of it.

I’m currently reading, and enjoying, Richard Dawkin’s new book, The Greatest Show on Earth: the evidence for evolution. Apparently, he was inspired to write it when he realised that, in spite of the fact that the evidence for evolution is overwhelming, many people don’t know that.

The book lays out the evidence in an easy-to assimilate way. Dawkins has had to be careful: he has been maliciously misquoted in the past by having short statements repeated out of context by creationists. (Apparently their ‘Christian’ morals don’t extend to honesty. And intellectual rigour is antithetical to creationism.)

As well as elucidating the scientific evidence, Dawkins tackles some of the muddle-headed ideas often thrown up by those who can’t cope with, or are scared of, evolution. For example, he carefully repeats that mankind is not descended from chimps, or any other kind of ape in existence today. We simply have a common ancestor – as we do with every other living thing.

Some of the other accusations thrown at evolutionists are more bizarre – almost to the point of cretinism, in my opinion. “I’ll believe we’re descended from monkeys when a chimp gives birth to a human” is one. This is so phenomenally stupid it’s hard to know where to begin. Dawkins makes a good stab at it, though. He also deals with the alleged ‘missing link’ (it isn’t missing), the lack of weird hybrids like the crocoduck in the fossil record (evolution doesn’t work that way so they should be missing) and the accusation that fossils show no intermediate stages (flat wrong on two counts: 1. There are plenty of fossil sequences that show steps along the evolutionary path; 2. Virtually all fossils are intermediate stages).

Then there’s the rallying cry of anti-evolutionists everywhere (or ‘history deniers’ as Dawkins rightly calls them): “what about the gaps in the fossil record?”.

Why wouldn’t there be gaps? What else could you expect? Fossilisation is a random happenstance relying on special conditions. Only a portion of the world’s rocks are capable of fossilising animals and plants during the rock’s formation. Special conditions must apply – conditions that don’t occur everywhere (a forest, for example, is not a good environment for creating fossils). Then the plant or animal has to be in the right place at exactly the right moment. Then we have to find the fossil. Untold millions must have been destroyed in the intervening period, by natural and human activity. Many more will be in strata where they will never be found. The fossil collections we have represent just a small fraction of the fossils that have been formed over the millennia.

Let’s consider an analogy. How many humans have lived and died? How many millions have been carefully buried, with clothes and grave goods in specially prepared ground? And yet how few do archaeologists find?

We’re lucky to have any fossils. And yet, the tens of thousands – or it is millions? – that we’ve been fortunate to find still paint a detailed and consistent picture. And they all fit beautifully with the theory of evolution. Indeed, ever since Charles Darwin published On the Origin of Species, with his brilliant insight into the most important evolutionary mechanism – natural selection – every important discovery and advance, such as DNA, has fitted perfectly into the overall evolutionary picture.

(I’ll be dealing in more detail with some of the anti-evolutionary ‘arguments’ in my occasional series, Lies Believers Tell.)

All the arguments against evolution stem from one source. Ignorance. The very basis of these arguments is false because they rely on assumptions that simply are not true.

Creationists are the worst offenders. (Let’s remember that many religious people have no problem with evolution.) They listen only to each other. They repeat the same baseless lies and distortions because they don’t want evolution to be true. They prefer their ignorance because, however disconnected it might be from reality, it allows them to indulge in their bronze-age fantasies.

And this, sadly, is why I think Dawkins’ book won’t reach the people who need it most. Where truth and faith collide, the faithful will stick their fingers in their ears, incant loudly and give themselves up to ignorance.

The Greatest Show on Earth is available from:
 Amazon.co.uk |  Amazon.com

A recent debate, hosted by the South West London Humanists, tackled what I believe to be a very loaded question: can humanists be spiritual?

Jeremy Rodell and Marilyn Mason led the arguments from the ‘yes’ and ‘no’ camps respectively (click on their names to see summaries of their points on the HumanistLife blog).

Why is this question so loaded? Because, I think, answering ‘no’ makes you vulnerable to judgment – usually silent, always unjust.

Spirituality is on the rise as organised religion declines. Many people reject the pomp, prejudice, prescriptions, proscriptions and silly stories that are the basis of most of the market-leading faiths. Yet they yearn for the fantastic in their lives, they want to touch the numinous and have some degree of mystery and wonder in their lives. And there’s no end of alternative wackiness they can be sold, from feng shui to crystal swinging.

But being ’spiritual’ doesn’t just mean being credulous. For some reason, the term has managed to attach to itself some measure of moral righteousness. To many – too many – being spiritual automatically earns approbation.

Marilyn Mason (with whose ‘no’ verdict I entirely agree) points out that spirituality, of course, implies spirit, and thus takes us into the realm of the supernatural. So what does being spiritual actually mean? As far as I can see, it means believing in things you can’t see, can’t prove, can’t predict, can’t use in any meaningful way and can’t possibly explain.

Yet, when I say to people that I am not spiritual, they regard me with either pity or suspicion. Not having a spiritual side is like not being able to see or hear. It’s almost impossible to explain to people who consider themselves spiritual that not sharing that characteristic is not a disability. In fact, I regard it as a form of freedom.

Not being spiritual is not the same as not being capable of emotion. There is much that moves me profoundly. The sight of the Earth seen from a distance – Sagan’s Pale Blue Dot. The marvel of replication by DNA and the staggering profusion of life it has produced via natural selection. In fact, science provides an endless seam of treasures capable of evoking deep contemplation and great emotion. You don’t need the fantasies of the supernatural realm to encounter the marvellous – it’s right there in front of you in the natural world.

While New Age spirituality may lie beyond the pale of organised religion, I think the term has carried over some of the prejudice it acquired within those faiths, especially Christianity.
There are some people for whom saying ‘I am not a Christian’ is synonymous with saying ‘I am immoral’. It is a form of arrogance, of course, but to them the only source of morality is faith. It is generally a fruitless exercise to point out to them the millions of good, moral people who must have existed on this planet before their particular brand of mythology came into being. Faith is about prejudice: the two words are themselves virtually synonymous.

So it is with ’spiritual’ people. To say that I am not spiritual is, to them, to say that I am unable to marvel or to empathise. They believe that I am missing something – perhaps even my humanity.

And they couldn’t be more wrong. By rejecting the supernatural, by insisting on remaining in this corporeal, temporal world, I am not putting my hopes in the unreal, I do not shift the responsibility for my actions to some ethereal force, I do not attribute the authority for my beliefs to some unimpeachable, unreachable entity. Instead, I find everything I want and need within humanity itself. Knowledge, wisdom, beauty and empathy are human attributes we should value and celebrate. Why look anywhere else?

In May 2009, Scott Roeder shot dead Dr George Tiller in the vestibule of a church. It was a deliberate killing. But according to some people, including Roeder’s defence attorney, it wasn’t murder. Why? Because Roeder considered Tiller’s death a ‘necessity’.

The killing took place in Kansas. Dr Tiller died because he had performed (perfectly legal) abortions. And Roeder’s religious convictions led him to believe he had the right – even a duty – to end the doctor’s life.

As I write, the judge has yet to rule on whether Roeder will be convicted of murder or the lesser charge of voluntary manslaughter. The latter is normally reserved for cases where the killer believes his or her actions to be necessary – the so-called ‘necessity defence’.

I have to admit that I was under the impression that ‘thou shalt not kill’ was a non-negotiable proposition. Apparently not.

You see, the thing is that the definition of ‘necessary’ here is Roeder’s own. This is not a definition most of society would share. It is the twisted logic of an extremist and should find no support in law.

By the same logic, the 9/11 terrorists were not murderers (even though every sane and reasonable person would conclude that they were). There is no doubt that they considered their actions ‘necessary’. They too were driven and endorsed by faith. So necessary were these attacks, in fact, that the terrorists were willing to give their lives – a price Roeder wasn’t willing to pay. In fact, he’s not even willing to pay the price of a murder conviction. So one can’t say he has the courage of his convictions: there was no courage involved in his actions, when he pulled the trigger or since.

Psychopaths have often claimed that their actions were ‘necessary’ – to rid the world of trash, say, or because the voices in their heads demanded that they kill. And what is god except a voice in the head?

The fact that certain religious people and organisations believe that the necessity defence can apply here simply highlights the profound hypocrisy and moral corruption at the heart of extreme faiths. It also underlines that they believe their warped and archaic beliefs – held only by a tiny minority of Christians, let alone the population in general – take precedence over the laws of the land and the consensual moral standpoints they enshrine.

Religious extremists in the US are praying for a voluntary manslaughter conviction. It would endorse their radical viewpoints and set them apart from the population at large. It would be another example of the privileging of religion. It would say that being driven to kill by faith is different to being driven to kill by a warped psychopathology, even though, in fact, there is no demonstrable difference.

This being Kansas, one’s hopes aren’t high. It’s a state heavily infested with creationists. We can only hope that Judge Wilbert, who is trying this case, returns a decision that identifies Roeder as what he is – a common murderer.

I readily admit that I’m not an expert on Christian theology. It’s a tricky subject. There’s so much that is vague, bizarre and self-contradictory in the Bible that making sense of it – if sense is the right word – takes a certain kind of mind and a lot of training.

Take, for instance, Jesus and the manner of his conception.

Mary was ‘visited’ by the Holy Spirit. That’s a polite term for it, as in ‘I gave her a damn good visiting’. The result was that Mary became pregnant without any of that sordid rolling in the hay malarky.

Catholics would have you believe she remained a virgin (let’s leave aside the small matter of Jesus’ brother, James, and other siblings). Not just that, Mary herself had to be free of sin, including original sin, so Catholics had to invent all that silliness about Mary’s immaculate conception. Nor could she die, but instead had to be assumed up to heaven.

It’s all man-made nonsense, of course, but it’s not the particular piece of nonsense I want to deal with here.

Fun-loving trio

No, my problem is with that Holy Spirit fella. He’s one part of that fun-loving trio, the Holy Trinity. The other members, of course, are God and Jesus. Oh, wait…

Presumably, before the Holy Spirit had his night of passion with Mary, the Holy Trinity was merely the Dynamic Duo. There’s not much I can find in the Bible or on Wikipedia about that, but in any case there’s a more pressing problem.

You see, Christianity has long anguished over this Trinity business. I mean, it markets itself as one of the leading monotheistic faiths (of which there are three key brands, but let’s not get into that coincidence). In fact, God is very emphatic about the mono bit – ‘Thou shalt have no other gods but me’ and all that.

And so theologians have had to come up with some very convoluted, clever, indeed downright devious ways of getting around the problem of there being three versions of the one God. Yes, they say, there are three entities or manifestations, but they are simply different facets of the same thing – God the father, God the son and God the Holy Ghost.

In the Credo (or Nicene Creed, if you prefer), this is made explicit. In the original version of the creed, formulated in Nicea in 325CE, believers simply state that they believe in the Holy Ghost. But in the Constantinople version of 381CE, the creed was expanded to avoid any unpleasant misunderstanding. The Holy Ghost, it says, “proceedeth from the Father, who with the Father and the Son together is worshiped and glorified”. In both versions, Jesus is, “begotten, not made, being of one substance with the Father”.

One substance. Hmm.

And so it seems that, in effect, Mary spent the night with God. And given that Jesus is part of God … well that raises some difficult questions, doesn’t it? One assumes that the Holy Ghost is nothing but a convenient invention of members of the early Christian church to get around the problem of Jesus begetting himself, and having sex with his mother into the bargain.

Anyone who has written a novel or screenplay will recognise the huge plot problems in the Christian story. And most will have little time for how poorly these have been resolved by later contortions and rewrites. We humans have made up this story but can’t seem to make it work at any logical level. Of course, that doesn’t always worry believers: most just throw up their hands and declare it a mystery and not for us to know.

Some Christian sects have avoided the problem by simplifying the story of Christ and what interpretations they make from it. For example, many do not insist on Mary’s virginity. In any case, this was only ever the product of a mistranslation of the alleged prophecy of Isaiah 7:14, where the Hebrew word almah, which carries no connotation of virginity, became the Greek word parthenos, which means ‘maiden’ and might imply purity.

But some powerful sects, most notably Roman Catholicism, take a hardline, one might say fundamentalist, view. In the process, their excuses and explanations take on ever more bizarre forms.

I think Uta Ranke-Heinemann expressed it best. She is a theologian who holds the chair of History of Religion at the University of Duisburg-Essen. She was, for a while, Professor of Catholic Theology at Essen, until fired by Pope John Paul II for daring to insist on a theological, rather than biological, interpretation of the Virgin Birth. Still a Christian, she departed from mainstream faith, insisting that the Bible and the Trinity are the products of mankind, not God, that Jesus was human, that hell, the devil and original sin are all fabrications and that the crucifixion was, in effect, a form of pagan human sacrifice. She said:

Catholic moral theology has lost much of its prestige … It is a folly that poses as religion and invokes the name of God, but has distorted the consciences of countless people. It has burdened them with hair-splitting nonsense and has tried to train them to be moral acrobats, instead of making them more human and kinder to their fellow men and women … Its theology is no theology and its morality is no morality. It has come to grief on its own stupidity.

Uta Ranke-Heinemann’s book, Eunuchs for Kingdom of Heaven: Women, Sexuality and the Catholic Church, is available from:  Amazon.co.uk |  Amazon.com

Some philosophers – not necessarily believers but not strictly atheists either – are turning to theology as a source of ideas. Some feel that ‘liberalism’ (however they choose to define that) has run out of ideas. They feel that perhaps our social ills require what are seen as the strengths of religion – community, something to believe in.

An article in The Guardian by Nathan Schneider outlines this ‘Theology for atheists’ trend. Yet the piece fails to address a critical point.

Theology, for all the insights it might provide, for all its moral and philosophical strengths, suffers from a fatal flaw. If you trace its better ideas back to their roots you find that, ultimately, they depend on Argument from Authority expressed through fairy stories. The very core of theology is at best myth and at worse outright lies.

Yes, there are good things we can take from the Bible or the Qur’an (plus a lot that’s deplorable). The Beatitudes, for example, provide a solid and admirable foundation for any moral code and philosophy. (Of course, it’s possible that the basic text for the Sermon on the Mount comes not from the mouth of Jesus but from Hellenistic Cynic philosophy. It was later adapted and included in the Q document used as a source for the Gospels of Matthew and Luke.)

However, let’s also be clear that these are the ideas and thoughts of humans. They can only form part of theology if one accepts the existence of god and his importance as the source and foundation of these ideas and the ultimate authority that determines their worth.

The idea that atheists might adopt a ‘theology’ is a contradiction in terms and an intellectual fudge. It feels like yet another piece of post-modern, multiculturalist piffle. By all means let’s discuss and exchange ideas. But to propose an atheist ‘theology’ is pure nonsense.

Belief is justified and our faith must be true, religionists tell us, because of the beauty it inspires.

It’s an argument we hear often – that we have religion to thank for the treasures of da Vinci, Michaelangelo, Titian; the Masses, Passions and cantatas of Bach; and the monumental architecture of the Middle Ages.

It’s true that, in the 2,000 years or so since Jesus was said to preach his apocalyptic message, most art in the western world has been religious. But not all.

Pieter Breughel : peasant wedding

In painting, and even without venturing as near as the 20th Century, without even mentioning the Impressionists, there is much secular work to admire. As far back as the 16th Century, Brueghel the Elder painted ordinary people living ordinary lives. There was a strong humanist streak in the Dutch masters. And we honour Rembrandt especially for his portraits.

Most of Bach’s output was religious – he was, after all, employed specifically to churn out church music. Yet the Goldberg Variations were written to make a man more comfortable on sleepless nights.

Religion gave us towering cathedrals, but think of the great buildings of our age and see how many are churches. (The mega-churches of American evangelicals are, without exception, vulgar and tasteless expressions of ill-gotten wealth.)

Religion gave rise to great works because it was the church that held the wealth and the opportunity to patronise artists. Whatever else the church did, in terms of pastoral care, it certainly made sure it was itself comfortably well off. The church also wielded considerable influence over affairs of state and individuals’ lives.

So it was not religion that gave us these treasures – it was power.

In attempting to stem the tide of secularism, the faithful often resort to warning us about what we might lose. The implication is that there is some innate connection between the faith itself and what it has produced.

In the current issue of The Author, the journal of the Society of Authors, Michael Arditti writes a lament to modern literature’s lack of engagement in religious themes. He says:

Cranmer’s Prayer Book has played a greater part in framing our language than any other single source, including Shakespeare. Even the most diehard secularist would find himself hard-pressed to expunge religious idioms from his speech.

To which my answer would be, And your point is…?

That faith has resulted in great works of beauty, power and elegance is an accident of history. It does not mean that there is any intrinsic validity to faith. It does not mean that we cannot have works of equal majesty from other sources of inspiration.

You could argue that the stories of the Bible and the awe, wonderment and passion invoked by faith are what give rise to these creative masterpieces. But these sources of inspiration are easily replaced. The natural world at all levels of engagement – from simply gazing at a landscape to marvelling at the mysteries of quantum mechanics – have at least an equal power to move us.

At the same time, there is much to be said for artists engaging with their world on a more realistic level. Perhaps what Arditti doesn’t understand is that writers may have abandoned religious themes because they are irrelevant. Most writers want to explore the real world, not some arcane realm of fantasy (unless it’s to invent one themselves). It’s easy to be awe-struck by stories of miracles and supernatural phenomena. It takes more skill to find truth and beauty in our quotidian existence.

And so, by rejecting faith, we are not abandoning a source of beauty. We are seeking new and more meaningful sources.

The creationists are at it again. Schools in the UK are receiving copies of a glossy new book, Explore Evolution, published by the hilariously mis-named Truth in Science.

What could be better? Surely a book on evolution is a good thing? Except that this book is one gigantic lie.

The book is subtitled The Arguments for and against Neo-Darwinism, but the contents are not nearly so balanced as that phrase suggests. Indeed, the material is carefully and deliberately twisted, distorted and unbalanced in order that readers – and these are schoolchildren, remember – will come to the conclusion that the Theory of Evolution is flawed and that other ideas are just as valid.

The book is, in short, a piece of creationist propaganda, heavily and dishonestly disguised as science.

Truth in Science is not a scientific organisation, it is an evangelical religious organisation. It just doesn’t have the guts to say so. (The British Humanist Association, at its Humanist Life blog, has an interesting breakdown of Truth in Science’s board members.) Instead, it flatters itself that it has a mission to educate, when in fact its mission is to lie to children.

Here’s how the organisation’s website describes what it’s up to:

At Truth in Science, we wish to highlight the scientific weaknesses of Neo-Darwinism and to encourage a more critical approach to the teaching of evolution in schools and universities.

We consider it is time for students to be exposed to the fact that there is a modern controversy over Darwin’s Theory of Evolution and that this has considerable social, spiritual, moral and ethical implications.

Creationists are always moaning, ‘Teach the controversy’ – but it’s actually the last thing they need.

First, there is no controversy. Even that much is a lie. Evolution is an established fact, and natural selection its most significant mechanism. Yes, there are debates and controversies within evolutionary science: that is the nature of science. Unlike religious faith, scientific knowledge continuously grows and adapts. It is a living thing, imperfect, incomplete but always getting better. Science is fundamentally honest in its willingness to admit its shortcomings and admit errors. Creationists and other religious extremists often take advantage of this openness, deliberately misrepresenting it as a weakness when it fact it’s a strength.

There is no controversy between evolution and … well, anything else, least of all religious fantasy. ‘Creation science’ is no such thing – it’s fundamentalist religious dogma and does not belong anywhere near a science class. ‘Intelligent design’ is just creation science re-badged when the latter was seen by sane, intelligent people to be fraudulent and intellectually bankrupt. If it is dealt with at all in schools (and I’ve yet to see a convincing reason why it should be) it belongs alongside other outdated mythologies, like the Flat Earth, dragons and witches – perhaps a footnote in a comparative religion class.

We know that the ‘teach the controversy’ ruse is an attempt to get creationism on the same platform as evolution – to pretend that they are somehow equivalent and equally respectable. Yet, the more that creationists (whether or not they admit to being such) make this call, the more they highlight the fact that creationism is not the equal of evolution. All they really succeed in doing is advertising the dreadful inadequacy of their ideas.

Perhaps this is why they are now resorting to such underhand tactics.

You’ll note that the mission statement quoted above does not mention religion directly, let alone creationism. Truth in Science [sic], like so other creationist organisations, has to resort to dishonesty in trying to sneak through its message – by inventing ’scientific weaknesses’ and pretending there is a ‘controversy’.

One assumes they know, at some level, that creationist ideas cannot stand by their own merits. They have none. They must disguise them as pseudo-science. They can’t ‘teach the controversy’ because that would mean presenting their case fully and honestly, which is doomed to failure. So they don’t want to teach the controversy – what they want to teach the UK’s children are lies and distortions.

And so a religious organisation attempts to push its ideas on children by not mentioning their religious origin. It’s rather like a drug dealer hanging around the school gates handing out bags of crack pretending they’re sweets.

Clearly, creationist organisations, such as Truth in Science [sic] do not have the courage of their convictions, nor do they have the decency to put their case honestly. Remind me again about ‘Christian’ morals…?

Far from religion providing an answer to society’s ills, it might be a significant part of the problem. These are conclusions you could draw from a new report.

The report, by Gregory Paul, is summarised by Sue Blackmore in the Guardian. Blackmore is justly cautious about many of Paul’s more contentious conclusions. But they are nonetheless based on some very strong correlations that will make troubling reading for those who believe morals and a virtuous society can stem only from religion.

And they are even more worrying for those who live in the US. Here’s a little montage of what Blackmore says:

I have often quoted his earlier, 2005, research which showed strong positive correlations between nations’ religious belief and levels of murder, teenage pregnancy, drug abuse and other indicators of dysfunction. It seemed to show, at the very least, that being religious does not necessarily make for a better society. … In this latest research Paul measures “popular religiosity” for developed nations, and then compares it against the “successful societies scale” (SSS) which includes such things such as homicides, the proportion of people incarcerated, infant mortality, sexually transmitted diseases, teenage births and abortions, corruption, income inequality, and many others. In other words it is a way of summing up a society’s health. The outlier again and again is the US with a stunning catalogue of failures. On almost every measure the US comes out worse than any other 1st world developed nation, and it is also the most religious … he argues that religion is not a deep-seated or inherited tendency. It is a crutch to which people turn when they are under extreme stress, “a natural invention of human minds in response to a defective habitat”. Americans, he says, suffer appalling stress and anxiety due to the lack of universal health care, the competitive economic environment, and huge income inequalities, and under these conditions belief in a supernatural creator and reliance on religious observance provides relief.

The report itself is here (PDF).