Dangerous umbrellas

Humans are born categorizers, and we are often uncomfortable when those categories don't turn out to be water-tight.  As they seldom are.  We want life to be neat, to fit in orderly little boxes with labels, and then not to have to rethink it.

But as Oliver Wendell Holmes said, "No generalization is worth a damn, including this one."  We have to be extraordinarily careful with how we fit a messy reality into artificial pigeonholes.

I frequently run into this with the attitudes many atheists have towards Christians as a whole, as if the label "Christian" adequately encompassed the enormous range of beliefs and attitudes of the people who call themselves by that name.  I'm sorry, you can't make a blanket statement about worldviews and expect that statement to reflect much of anything accurately.  "Christian" means one thing; someone who accepts the divinity of Jesus.  Beyond that, any expectation that you can make a further judgment is pretty much doomed to failure.  An umbrella that covers such disparate individuals as a liberal Episcopalian and a fundamentalist Pentecostal is bound to be fairly useless for telling you anything other than what the term literally means.

The reverse happens too, though.  As an atheist, I sometimes get some wry comments when people find out that I love Baroque and Renaissance religious choral music.  The Bach Mass in B Minor and Magnificat in D, in fact, are two of my all-time favorite works.  I posted a YouTube video to my Facebook page a while back of a chorus performing Thomas Tallis's gorgeous Spem in Alium, prompting a friend to comment, "I thought you didn't believe in any of this stuff."

Well, I don't.  Being labeled "atheist" doesn't mean I have to hate everything religious.  When I went to England fifteen years ago, the focus of my trip was visiting abbeys and cathedrals, and I did so with great appreciation of the beauty and solemnity of those spaces that many consider sacred.  And to the friend who questioned my love of religious music, I merely quoted Walt Whitman: "Do I contradict myself?  Very well, I contradict myself.  I am large, I contain multitudes."

Of course, we all do this sort of thing.  Religious folks do it about other religious folks, and atheists do it about each other.  Take, for example, the little screed that P. Z. Myers posted yesterday on his blog Pharyngula.

P. Z. Myers [image courtesy of the Wikimedia Commons]

Now, I have a great deal of admiration for Myers for his staunch support of the teaching of evolution in public schools, and also for his take-no-shit-from-anyone attitude with regards to our government's tendency to handle religion with kid gloves.  But I think he's gone seriously off the beam here, falling into the kind of categorical thinking that I describe above.

The whole thing began with a comment Anita Sarkeesian made regarding her receipt of death threats over a speaking engagement at Utah State University.  Sarkeesian is a prominent feminist, and evidently her views ticked someone off enough that she was told she'd be killed because her "feminist viewpoints made her worthy of death."  Sarkeesian was interviewed about this issue, and there was an insinuation that the originator of the threat must be religious.  Sarkeesian disagreed, and in fact posted on her Twitter feed the statement, "I find it ironic that self-described 'atheist' men are far more hateful and awful towards me online than conservative Christians are."

This prompted a number of prominent atheists to point out that the word "atheist" means nothing more than "disbelieves in a deity;" it doesn't mean "nice person."  Myers took serious exception to this, and shot back:

Right.  ‘The dictionary doesn’t say atheists have to be decent human beings, therefore I’m going to be more annoyed that you have this expectation than at the fact that some atheists are hateful numpties.’ 

Whatever happened to the rational idea that we should look at our failings honestly and strive to correct them?  You know, when Francis Bacon set out to tell the world about how science should be done, he didn’t just pull a sentence out of a dictionary and be done with it.  “Inductive reasoning is best, rah rah rah!” No — he wrote at length about the pitfalls, and spelled out the preconceptions to which we are prone.

Well, on the one hand, he's right that rationality requires us to be thoughtfully self-aware, and to correct our failings.  But the fact remains that the word "atheist" does mean simply a lack of belief in god.  It might be reassuring for us atheists to pat ourselves on the back and think that along with that belief will come all sorts of other good things -- being logical, compassionate, reasonable, and accepting.  But humanity (like everything) is messy.  Just as the word "Christian" encompasses a huge range of beliefs and attitudes, so does "atheist."  The latter word, recall, could apply not only to myself and Myers, Stephen Hawking, Eugenie Scott, and Tim Minchin -- but also to Stalin and Pol Pot.

Myers finishes up by saying:

But I guess atheists have moved so far beyond mere scientists that self-awareness and recognition of their own errors of perception no longer matter — “There is no god!” is the great All of their philosophy, and no other consideration need be made. 

Well, at least we’re better than the theists in one thing: our dogma is shorter and easier to memorize.

Which is about as accurate as saying "All Christians are illogical and narrow-minded."  I can only hope that he's being deliberately disingenuous here; surely he can't really think that atheists as a group don't care about anything other than saying "there is no god."

Yes, I think it's a shame that there are atheists who are jerks, and who would give Anita Sarkeesian grief about her work to combat misogyny.  I also think it's a shame that there are some Christians, and Muslims, and Buddhists, and so on, who are jerks.  It'd be nice if we could eliminate jerkishness from humanity entirely, and perhaps Myers's prodding atheists by saying, "C'mon, people, we're better than that," isn't entirely a bad thing.

But the fact is, there's no term you can apply to a human group that isn't going to result in the same kind of seeming internal contradiction.  People are complex, enigmatic creatures, surprising you every time you try to figure them out.  Perhaps instead of expecting umbrella terms to tell us very much, we should all try to find the commonalities that unite us -- the desire for love, understanding, kindness, safety, and adequate food, water and shelter.  Beyond that, let's look past the labels, and consider each other as individuals.

Responses to suicide

There's nothing like the tragic death of a celebrity to bring out the worst in humanity.

I'm talking about the suicide of Robin Williams, of course, and in my first statement I'm guilty of Overgeneralizing Because I'm Pissed Off.  There have been a great many beautiful tributes, both by public figures and by Williams' fans, mourning the loss of a brilliant comic and sympathizing with the heartbreak his family is experiencing.  I have seen many use this as an opportunity to make a statement about the devastating nature of depression, and encouraging those contemplating suicide to consider other options.

[image courtesy of the Wikimedia Commons]

But man, does this kind of thing bring out the jerks.

Starting with our friends over at the Westboro Baptist Church, which I thought had more or less fallen apart after the death of Fred Phelps.  But no, they're still going strong, and sending out their edifying messages to all and sundry.  And yesterday they announced that they're planning on picketing Robin Williams' funeral because he was a "fag pimp" for creating positive portrayals of gay men in movies.

We'd expect that kind of thing from them, though.  These people are light years from anything resembling human compassion, so such a move is hardly surprising.  Equally unsurprising is the reaction of conspiracy theorists such as noted wingnut Mark Dice, who claims that Williams didn't commit suicide, but was "sacrificed by the Illuminati."

But none of that really bothers me, other than on a purely superficial level.  Wackos will be wackos, after all.  I'm bothered far more deeply by people who are coldly, callously using Williams' death to make a political or philosophical point.  Let's start with Kevin Burke, over at the anti-abortion site Life News, who is claiming that Williams' depression was caused by the fact that his girlfriend had had an abortion back in the 1970's:

Many are aware that Williams struggled for years with serious addiction issues.  However a lesser known fact is that one of those demons was an abortion that took place in the 1970’s...  Is there a relationship between Robin William’s descent into drug addiction and depression that began in the 1970’s and his past abortion?  Williams said in an interview in The Guardian in 2008, “You know, I was shameful…You do stuff that causes disgust, and that’s hard to recover from.  You can say, ‘I forgive you’ and all that stuff, but it’s not the same as recovering from it."  Williams may have been making a thinly veiled reference to what society tells us does not exist…his post abortion trauma and complicated grief.

Then there was P. Z. Myers, whose blog Pharyngula I actually used to like, who decided to use Williams' suicide to make a point about how biased media coverage is:

I’m sorry to report that comedian Robin Williams has committed suicide, an event of great import and grief to his family.  But his sacrifice has been a great boon to the the news cycle and the electoral machinery — thank God that we have a tragedy involving a wealthy white man to drag us away from the depressing news about brown people.  I mean, really: young 18 year old black man gunned down for walking in the street vs. 63 year old white comedian killing himself?  Which of those two stories gives you an excuse to play heart-warming and funny video clips non-stop on your 24 hour news channel?...  Boy, I hate to say it, but it sure was nice of Robin Williams to create such a spectacular distraction.

He's right, of course, about media bias.  But putting it this way, P. Z., doesn't make you acerbic or cutting-edge or clever, it just makes you an insensitive asshole.

But no one pissed me off worse than prominent Christian blogger Matt Walsh.  Not, of course, the first time this has happened.  And actually, he started off well enough:

The death of Robin Williams is significant not because he was famous, but because he was human, and not just because he left this world, but particularly because he apparently chose to leave it. 

Suicide. 

A terrible, monstrous atrocity.  It disturbs me in a deep, visceral, indescribable way. Of course it disturbs most people, I would assume.  Indeed, we should fear the day when we wake up and decide we aren’t disturbed by it anymore.

But take a look at how he ended the piece:

(W)e can debate medication dosages and psychotherapy treatments, but, in the end, joy is the only thing that defeats depression.  No depressed person in the history of the world has ever been in the depths of despair and at the heights of joy at the same time.  The two cannot coexist.  Joy is light, depression is darkness.  When we are depressed, we have trouble seeing joy, or feeling it, or feeling worthy of it.  I know that in my worst times, at my lowest points, it’s not that I don’t see the joy in creation, it’s just that I think myself too awful and sinful a man to share in it.

Seriously?  That's your suggestion to the depressed, that they should just "feel joyful?"  His statement "joy is the only thing that defeats depression" is like saying that "the only thing that defeats cancer is not having cancer."  He says, earlier in his blog, "(B)efore I’m accused of being someone who 'doesn’t understand,' let me assure you that I have struggled with this my entire life."

I don't know about you, but it sure as hell sounds to me like he doesn't understand.  His shallow and thoughtless piece minimizes the anguish suffered by tens of thousands, and once again falls back on the old, horrible trope that people who are depressed "just aren't trying hard enough."

Let me be perfectly open here.  I have suffered from moderate to severe depression my entire adult life.  I have only once been in the depths to the point that I actually had the pile of sleeping pills in my hand, a glass of water on my nightstand.  I didn't follow through with it for one reason only; I was scared.

I'm glad I didn't, of course.  Because you can get through depression, you can deal with it, even though it never really is completely defeated.  Through many long years of therapy and the support of my family and friends, I'm doing okay.  But depression is a murderous bitch, no respecter of fame, fortune, or stature, that robs life of its spark and saps your energy and makes everything look gray.  I wish Robin Williams had found his way out of that dark place; his choice to end his life is especially wrenching considering the joy he gave to millions.

But I do understand it.  I've been there.  And I have nothing but empathy for what he went through, and my heart breaks for what his family is enduring.

So to the people like Matt Walsh, whose ridiculous assessments downplay the real struggles the mentally ill experience; to P. Z. Myers and Kevin Burke, who heartlessly sank their claws into Williams' suicide as a way of scoring a philosophical point; and even to wackos like Mark Dice and the members of the Westboro Baptist Church, who are using the whole thing to bolster their bizarre worldviews... to them I only have one thing to say.

Shut the fuck up.

Poe's law, absurd beliefs, and demon sex

There's this idea called "Poe's Law."  Named after Nathan Poe, the first person to set it down as a rule of thumb (although certainly not the first person to notice the phenomenon), Poe's Law states that a sufficiently well-done parody of a ridiculous or extreme belief is indistinguishable from the belief it is parodying.

Poe's Law, coupled with a lack of rigorous research, almost certainly explains how comedian Stephen Colbert got invited to be the keynote speaker at the Presidential Press Dinner during George W. Bush's presidency, probably selected by a staffer who was fired one microsecond into Colbert's speech, and whose job is now giving rectal exams to walruses in Barrow, Alaska.  The speech was a combination of funny and excruciating, as he stayed in his ultraconservative persona for a full twelve minutes while slyly lambasting the president, vice president, Chief Justice Scalia, and just about every Republican politician in office at the time -- right in front of their faces.  Poe's Law also explains how stories on the political parody site The Onion have suckered real, legitimate news reporters from Pravda and Xinhua, and have more than once spawned outrage (remember the firestorm that occurred when a story on The Onion claimed that the last Harry Potter movie was being split into seven separate films?).

So, parody, when done well, can fool you.  But that is part of what parody's function is, isn't it?  It's to take every flaw, every foible, every odd claim, every trope of what's being parodied, and exaggerate it just enough to make it look ridiculous.  And done well, it can be a powerful force for showing crazy beliefs for what they are.

The problem is, of course, that Poe's Law also works the other way.  A sufficiently crazy (but seriously held) belief can be so out there, so bizarre, that it looks like a parody.  We read about it, and stop, smile a little, and say, "No... really?  No, come on, no one can possibly believe that."

The problem is yes, often, someone -- and a lot of someones -- do believe that.   Fervently.

I ran into a perfect example of this yesterday, in the online magazine Charisma.  Far from being what it sounds like -- a magazine about romance, makeup, clothing, or something of the sort -- Charisma is a magazine featuring stories by, and about, devout Christians.  From their "About" page:

To passionate, Spirit-filled Christians, Charisma is the leading charismatic media source that inspires them to radically change their world. Since 1975, Charisma magazine has been a trusted source of news, teaching and inspiration to help spread the gospel of Jesus Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit.

As the voice of the charismatic movement, Charisma has steadily combined award-winning news coverage of what the Holy Spirit is doing around the world with relevant, timely messages from leaders in the Spirit-empowered community. Yet even from its earliest days, Charisma has always been about more than what's on the pages of a monthly magazine.

All of which sounds like pretty standard Christian fare -- until you start looking at specific articles, many of which fall into the "Backing away slowly, keeping my eyes on you the entire time" category.  In fact, the article that I came across yesterday on their website is entitled, "Can You Be Raped By The Devil?"

Well, I'm sure you've already guessed that just by having this question as the title of the article, the author, Cedric Harmon, thinks the answer is "yes, of course."  It is, he says, "more common than you think."  (Well, given that I think the number of times it has happened is zero...)  To research this phenomenon, Harmon interviewed Contessa Adams, a stripper turned devout Christian who thinks she had sex with a demon not just once, but many times.  "Unless you're strong enough to rebuke it, they'll keep coming back," she says.  "You must speak the Word of God, knowing you have power in the name of Jesus."

So, what is the consequence of all of this satanic bow-chicka-bow-wow?  Harmon says that when people are tricked into having demon sex, it can change them in a variety of ways:

• It can make you not want to have sex with an actual human.  Demons, apparently, are that good.
• It can lead you to practicing voodoo or Santería.
• It can make you a homosexual.

Yes, dear readers, you read that right; Harmon believes that one way a person becomes gay is by fornicating with a demon.

I think this was the point that I did the "No... really?" thing.  Was this a parody, slipped into Charisma magazine by a parodist to see how absurd a belief they'd actually print?  The answer, apparently, is "No."  It appears that however absurd it sounds, Harmon seriously believes this stuff -- and so do many (although, thankfully, not all) of the people who left comments on the story.  As frightening as this is to me, there are people who read this sort of thing, and basically say, "Oh, of course.  That makes complete sense."

The eminent evolutionary biologist and science writer P. Z. Myers, in his awesome blog Pharyngula, recently wrote a piece called "No More Poes" in which he says:

I heard several announce “He’s a poe” or “he must be a poe”. Dear god, but I’m sick of that stupid word. It’s become a standard response to batty stupidity — lately, it doesn’t matter how ordinary a comment is or who said it or how well verified it is — there’s always someone in the crowd who has to show off how insightful or cynical they are by declaring that it must be a pretense.

Look, people, we live in a country with Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck and Joseph Farah as prominent media sources; where Akin and Broun and Jindal get elected to high office; where every newspaper is full of common folk writing in to complain about those gays or those socialist commies or those egghead liberals. There is nothing unlikely or unbelievable about a down-home ministry that announces you’ll go to hell for believing in science. Bat-buggering bullshit is routine.

If you needed a good example of exactly that, look no further than Charisma magazine.  Parody, after all, is hardly needed when the people in question have descended so far into absurdity that they seem to be engaged in self-parody.