Posts Tagged religion

this has always been the title of this post

Over the years I’ve liked the concept of ‘belief’ less and less. Implications of religious belief in particular notwithstanding (another thing I’ve come to like less and less) I’m bothered by the idea that anyone would make decisions based not on the world as it is, but on the world as they see it. Which is likely more than a little hypocritical on my part, given what I’m ostensibly fated to write next: I’m almost certain I believe in Hard Determinism.

This isn’t predestination, it’s causal determinism, and it directly opposes the existence of free will. It probably also contradicts quantum stuff, though I’ve got to admit I’m not by any means well-versed in that realm. Here’s what I know:

The substructure of the universe regresses infinitely towards smaller and smaller components. Behind atoms we find electrons, and behind electrons quarks. Each layer unraveled reveals new secrets, but also new mysteries.

- Academician Prokhor Zakharov, “For I Have Tasted the Fruit” (Alpha Centauri, 1999)

So far as I know, this is true. Bigger things are made of smaller things – for that matter, big things are smaller things. I’m me, I’m human, I’m made of cells, which are made of chains of molecules, which are made of atoms stuck together, which are made of all sorts of other stuff – somehow all that stuff sticking together makes me, such as I am.

Now let’s think about pool tables.

A ball in motion on a pool table collides with another ball. The event involves well-known properties of matter, expressed in immaculate mathematical equations. Velocity of moving ball impacts stationary ball, transfers momentum, is left to come to rest while other ball moves in a trajectory determined by first ball’s motion. Every time ball A hits ball B, with those parameters in place, the same effect will result. There isn’t any uncertainty about it. It’d be silly to ‘believe’ that something else would occur. For another relevant quote:

Science replaces private prejudice with public, verifiable evidence.

― Richard Dawkins

Public verifiable evidence is simple enough to acquire in the case of our pool table – set up a robotic arm, place the balls precisely on the table, line up the shot in exactly the same way, and you’ll see the same thing happen over and over again. That’s science. It’s repeatable, it’s predictable, everything is accounted for.

I remember playing the ‘why’ game when I was a kid – keep repeating ‘why’ whenever an adult gives you an explanation, forcing them to delve ever deeper into progressively elementary explanations until they give up in frustration and invoke the ever-popular: ‘just because.’ That’s when the kid wins – when the adult has to admit they don’t know everything, which is of course a childish thing to feel the need to prove. However, it’s relevant to this topic, because it brings up an interesting question – what if the adult didn’t run out of explanations? We could ride that spiral of causality down into infinity.

But the implications. The pool balls always move the same way. Behind each effect we find a cause, and what caused that cause, and what caused that cause, and so on. Every event was precipitated by the conditions that heralded it. This isn’t predestination, as far as I can tell, in fact it can’t be, because god himself would be caught in the line of causes and effects.

This conclusion might sound hauntingly religious, though: everything happens for a reason, everything is fated to happen, everyone has a destiny, reality itself is a self-fulfilling prophecy. But I can’t see it any other way – my very impulse to sit down and write this was itself the product of causes so complex that I can’t conceive them, but their existence seems nearly undeniable. I can’t trace the exact sequence of shots in my own personal game of pool that’s led me to this point, but I know they’re there for me and my 4-dimensional experiences just as they’re there for the pool table and its 2-(maybe 3 if you’re feeing generous)-dimensional outcomes. All effects have causes, proceeded by effects, proceeded by causes, ad infinitum.

This has implications, of course. First of all, free will becomes an illusion. We can’t choose, because the factors that influence our choice are quantifiable, even if we don’t currently posses the means to do so. In our ignorance, we’ve taken inevitability and called it intention, ascribing choice where none exists. Which is of course a lie, because we were never capable of choosing what to call it in the first place.

While this might be the truth, I’ve got to admit that the conclusions I draw from it are somewhat of a cop-out, because it doesn’t change things for us. Morality is obviously completely invalid, as it requires free-will to assign responsibility to people for the choices they make. Try this: If I murder someone, I deserve to be murdered. In reality, if I murder someone I never had a choice; my substructure of the universe was always destined to interact with their substructure of the universe in such a way that the collection of tiny element known on our macro level as human life would cease to exist in that form – e.g. I would kill them. I was always going to kill them. So why punish me for killing them? The answer is so easy that it feels like cheating – because I was always going to be punished.

It sounds childish – in response to repeated ‘why’s, we’re simply replying, “because.” But it’s the right answer. It might not be a particularly useful answer, I suppose, but nothing else seems to make sense to me.

Dying is the last thing I plan to do.

Either by design or thought
we are doomed to know our own end

- “The Fall Of The House Of Usher” by Lou Reed

Mortality is probably a good thing to cover in the Mortality Blog. Death is a fact of life (so far as we know) and it’s a pretty depressing one -- the boon of self-awareness comes with the bane of knowing we are all going to die.

(okay, bad video, yes. just pop it out and let it play in the background.)

Shatner’s song makes light of our common destiny, which I support -- because there’s really not much else you can do about it. You can sit around and fret about inevitability, or you can accept it and try to pack in as much living as possible before your time is up.

My beliefs, such as they are, are balanced on this tiny little pearl of truth (if you’ll pardon the flowery prose) -- that after you die, it’s over. It’s totally and completely over, you cease to exist, maybe everything else ceases to exist, but it’s a moot point, because even if reality continues without you, you’ll never know it, because you’ll be dead. And everything, and everyone dies.

This simple little fact drives the instinct to survive and procreate -- to try to spread out as much as possible before entropy catches up. If you truly feel that you’d rather be dead than alive, even in an extreme situation, there is something terribly and fundamentally wrong with you. Life, any life, any terrible life of pain and misery, is incalculably more valuable than the absence of life.

The idea that a life of torture is better than no life at all is probably a luxury that I can afford, having lived a life of comfort (likely mostly undeserved) thus far. It’s the only belief I hold strongly enough that I would consider imposing it on someone else. Which is why abortion, war, and capital punishment are all extremely uncomfortable issues to me -- existential angst bothers me like nothing else I’ve experienced, in a manner that seems profound and untouchable, impossible to deal with directly, better relegated to a deep dark corner of my mind that I rarely purposefully venture. We’re not talking Thanatophobia - I suspect I’m far too ‘well-adjusted’ to have any seriously irrational phobias. Still, just thinking about it causes anxiety, speeds up my heart, makes me grit my teeth, makes my thoughts swirl around and keeps me uncomfortable until I can come up with something else to distract myself.

Since there ain’t anything new under the sun, Ernest Becker has already described my outlook in Terror Management Theory. You can read the wikipedia article yourself I’m sure, but this first paragraph is exactly what we’re talking about:

Terror Management Theory (TMT), in social psychology, states that all human behavior is motivated by the fear of mortality. The theory purports to help explain human activity both at the individual and societal level. It is derived from anthropologist Ernest Becker‘s 1973 Pulitzer Prize-winning work of nonfiction The Denial of Death, in which Becker argues all human action is taken to ignore or avoid the inevitability of death. The terror of absolute annihilation creates such a profound—albeit subconscious—anxiety in people (called cognitive dissonance) that they spend their lives attempting to make sense of it. On large scales, societies build symbols: laws, religious meaning systems, cultures, and belief systems to explain the significance of life, define what makes certain characteristics, skills, and talents extraordinary, reward others whom they find exemplify certain attributes, and punish or kill others who do not adhere to their cultural worldview. On an individual level, how well someone adheres to a cultural worldview is the same concept asself-esteem; people measure their own worth based on how well they live up to their culture’s expectations.

How convenient that there’s an all-powerful all-knowing invisible being who can save you from death; or that you’ll be re-incarnated after you die in this life and live another; or that you’ll ascend to godhood and get virgins or whatever. Yeah, so much for religion. This is why it will take an act of god (or something) to make me a believer -- otherwise, Occam’s Razor leaves me with Atheism, because I can’t see religious belief as anything other than “The terror of absolute annihilation,” and I can’t help feeling that I’m more willing to face reality than religion’s advocates. There is no god to save us from death. It is terrifying, yes.

The value of human life in general is an easy transitive relation to make, empathy making it simple enough to jump from “I don’t want to die,” to “they don’t want to die,” and “I don’t want them to die.” Survival instinct extends in an inverse pyramid from self, to family, to friends, to peers, etc. On a very basic level, I don’t want anyone to die, and it seems so simple and easy to me that I can’t help being a little baffled by people who disagree, and justify murder.

If life is the essential element, then to deprive someone of life is the most vicious and terrible act you can commit, an expression of the darkest part of humanity: a life of self-awareness and free will, including the choice to erase another person from existence. If the prospect of my own mortality is my deepest fear, the idea that my death could be a result of another person’s action is buried directly above -- and if a man can kill another man, he can kill me. So when we start talking about whether murders and rapists and traitors deserve the death penalty, or how young a person can be and still be aborted with impunity… it scares me. Since the fear of death is already there, that slippery slope leads straight from strangers to peers to friends to family to myself, and when I’m lying in bed at night in the dark and I can’t stop thinking about that last moment of consciousness…

Audio MP3

One sees one’s own death
one sees one committing murder or atrocious violent acts

- “The City In The Sea / Shadow” by Lou Reed

So that’s awful. I mean, there are other things that worry me, but this is the only one that really matters -- I’m worried that we still don’t put enough importance on the value of human life. I’m afraid of dying, and I’m afraid that other people aren’t as worried about it as I am, when it’s the only thing anyone should really be worried about.

Date: July 22nd, 2008
Cate: society + culture, things to think about

What would it take to stop believing?

If you seriously believe in something (specifically facts, not necessarily ideals), you’ve got to consider what it’d take to change your mind. Religion is a good one: Whether you’re an atheist or believer in the divine, what would it take to convince you that you’re wrong?

The question is sort of like a litmus-test for open-mindedness, in some respects – because if you say, “nothing could make me lose my faith in what I believe,” then you’re literally crazy.

As for myself, it’d be pretty easy to convince me that there is a god – if he were to pay me a visit. And I don’t mean in the “death by visitation of god” sense of the word – I mean just me and God, maybe me and Jesus, hanging out and talking over lunch. That might sound corny, but I’d love for that to happen. Facing mortality with no prospect of an afterlife is a pretty sucky situation… but I’d rather be bummed about having to die then delusional. And all it’d take to change that would be a visit.

What would it take for you? Do any of my religious-type-friends read this blog? What would it take to convince you that god doesn’t exist?