Malthusian collapse is, in short, the point a society reaches when its luxurious spending and lust for entertainment overwhelm available resources, bring its economy to a halt, and basically topple the society, which falls all the faster due to its top-heavy economic state.
The western world is probably headed for this. The United States is definitely headed for this. Nobody in the US seems to want to really talk about it, though:
-We have the mainstream conservatives, who refuse to look more than 5 years in the future, and only at their own nice houses, cars, and televisions at that. Deny global climate change, practically celebrate the American dependence on foreign oil, and strive to do nothing more than to protect their own standard of living.
-We have the mainstream liberals, who believe themselves to be forward-thinking, but honestly only think about 10 years ahead. Okay, protect the environment a little, maybe. Invest in alternative energy... slightly. The most important thing, though, is that everyone in the US, nay, in the world be brought up to the standard of living currently enjoyed by white middle-class americans. Never considering whether or not this would be sustainable. In addition, a penchant for big government, which is undeniably inneficient.
-We have the far-right, which argues about sustainability but actually is more concerned with the nation following to the letter a 200-year-old document written by men who thought that the ideal economy was based on slave labor. The idea is we let each state decide individually how to destroy itself.
-We have the far-left, which is such a mishmash of political idealogy that it can't decide between flower-child anarchy and totalitarian communism. Some would gladly destroy all of humanity to save the whales or rainforest or polar bears. Some would slaugher the rich in order to raise the standard of living of the poor. The is talk about sustainability and the collapse on this side, but not consistently. This group is not cohesive enough to ever agree to have prolonged dialogue about such things.
-And in the middle of it all, we have fundamentalist chistianity, the most damaging ideology of all. Jesus is comin' around any day now, so why bother fixing the world's problems? Besides, some big-time religious shmuck once talked about how god made the earth sufficient for all of his children and more (and, of course, at a high standard of living.) In fact, large families are god's mandate to his people, so don't limit your families. The fantastic increase in world population is all god's plan. Also, why talk about this stuff, when gays want to sign a piece of paper that says they get certain tax breaks? When women are holding jobs? And when there is a WAR ON CHRISTMAS! Brothers and sisters, we should expend our resources fighting these and other of Satan's evil social trends, rather than worrying about whether our grandchildren will kill eachother over cans of pork and beans as the cities burn.
I'm not saying that this is the only issue people should take on, because it isn't. But we should probably talk about it more. Unfortunately, this subject is routinely ignored. Conservatives plug their ears the moment it comes up, liberals are satisfied with piddling gestures in the direction of sustainability, fundamentalist christians are frankly nuts, and anyone who wants to talk about the possibility of collapse is regarded as a nut-job. Politicians wouldn't dream of it, because it'd be political suicide.
And I am no better, of course. I drive around town in a hybrid car, sure, but it still uses plenty of oil. I use electricity and gas in my home with abandon. I watch tv and movies without thinking about the enourmous spending thrown at these frivolous industries that only consume. I cut the gristly parts off my chicken breasts because I can always get more chicken, and I throw out stale cereal because it's gross. And I am a student with what would be considered, in this country, a rather humble lifestyle.
I don't even know what I can do to avoid the images in my head of rioting in the streets, collapse of all order, and death of more than 2/3 of the population of the United States, complete with neighbors shooting eachother for food and maybe even some cannibalism here and there! Our agriculture depends on oil and industrially-produces pesticides and fertilizers (not to mention refrigeration and distribution), so food is gonna be a problem.
Our lifestyle is not sustainable, and nobody is doing anything about it. Drastic changes would be required to turn things around now, and nobody is going to make those until it is totally clear that things are going bad. And that will be too late. Your food storage isn't going to help you. Better not tell anyone about it, actually. Society isn't going to restart itself in 12 months, and in the meantime a lot of hungry people with guns, clubs, knives, and nothing to lose are going to be scouring your neighborhood for every last can of Spaghetti-Os.
We. Are. Screwed.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Outliving Death
Back in high school, a good friend of mine and I often discussed religion. He came from a strongly Catholic family, and for a long time had been a staunch defender of faith among our group of friends. Gradually, though, his inquisitive mind allowed doubts to creep in, and he slowly turned to agnosticism.
I was discussing something with him one day, when I brought up my ideas about an afterlife:
I told him that I could not concieve of an end to myself, and so didn't it seem natural to assume an afterlife?
He responded that he'd thought about it, and he didn't think something as tenuous as conciousness could be expected to continue. Every night, we lose conciousness and cease to exist (as we think of it) for hours at a time. Why would conciousness, which fails to survive in a huge chunk of our biological lives, be any more robust after death? The brain's and body's functions slow during sleep, and slow to a stop in death. Why should the effects be so much different in two events that ultimately differ only in scale?
My argument, I have since realized, holds very little water. But his... It's not an airtight argument against an afterlife, nor does it claim to be. However, the reasoning is impeccable. Undeniable.
I was sincerely bothered by this thought. And not just at the time, it continued to bother me all through my mission, after coming home, and basically up to the point in time that I abandoned faith entirely.
I still can't argue with it. It is not conclusive, but it sure makes it seem likely that conciousness is not retained in death.
Why do we want so badly to escape death? It is unknown, I guess. We cling to existence because that's all we know. Nobody can remember their first moment of being, can they? Memories just kind of... fade back in time. No beginning. So we try to conclude that nonexistence is not actually a state we are capable of achieving, because we have no concept of nonexistence, and it terrifies us.
Now it is late at night, and I must go die for a while.
I was discussing something with him one day, when I brought up my ideas about an afterlife:
I told him that I could not concieve of an end to myself, and so didn't it seem natural to assume an afterlife?
He responded that he'd thought about it, and he didn't think something as tenuous as conciousness could be expected to continue. Every night, we lose conciousness and cease to exist (as we think of it) for hours at a time. Why would conciousness, which fails to survive in a huge chunk of our biological lives, be any more robust after death? The brain's and body's functions slow during sleep, and slow to a stop in death. Why should the effects be so much different in two events that ultimately differ only in scale?
My argument, I have since realized, holds very little water. But his... It's not an airtight argument against an afterlife, nor does it claim to be. However, the reasoning is impeccable. Undeniable.
I was sincerely bothered by this thought. And not just at the time, it continued to bother me all through my mission, after coming home, and basically up to the point in time that I abandoned faith entirely.
I still can't argue with it. It is not conclusive, but it sure makes it seem likely that conciousness is not retained in death.
Why do we want so badly to escape death? It is unknown, I guess. We cling to existence because that's all we know. Nobody can remember their first moment of being, can they? Memories just kind of... fade back in time. No beginning. So we try to conclude that nonexistence is not actually a state we are capable of achieving, because we have no concept of nonexistence, and it terrifies us.
Now it is late at night, and I must go die for a while.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Exit Talk Draft One
I've thought that, once I'm through with my degree and don't have to pretend I believe in god and Joseph Smith and all, maybe I'd like to give a talk in church. I can't decide whether it'd be better to speak first or last: first, I can set the theme of the whole meeting, but last, I can leave the feeling everyone will take home with them.
This is my first draft I'm writing up.
Good [morning, evening, afternoon], brothers and sisters.
[insert obligatory insincere apology for not preparing better here]
My talk today is about [boring topic], and to begin I thought I'd study the scriptures.
But I kinda got sidetracked by a somewhat tangential thought that I thought I'd share.
Have you ever thought: "God is an alien?" No, really! Instead of inexplicable super-powers, maybe he has super-advanced technology! We'd never know the difference. He has even revealed the name of his homeworld to us: Kolob! I imagine Kolob, home to an advanced civilization, the entire planet lit up with the lights of one enormous global city. It sounds great, we should all hie there someday.
Sorry, that got completely off topic and a little weird.
Anyway, back to [boring topic]. The first place I looked for inspiration was the life of Christ. Chirst spoke to the people, not just the leaders and the wealthy, but to the common folk. Well, not the gentiles, he tried to ignore them as much as possible. He performed unbelievable miracles of healing and knowledge. He gave himself up willingly to die. And then, the Bible tells us, he rose in glory on the third day, victorious forever over death.
Now, if you study the origin of the gospels at all, you know Mark is the first one written, and likely provided a lot of material for Matthew and Luke. The weird thing is, the account of the ressurection in Mark has been shown to have been added in long after its writing. I guess the accounts in Matthew and Luke aren't much help to us there, because they drew on Mark so much. But we have John, which is by far the most unique of the gospels and largely independent of the text of Mark, despite likely being the last gospel to be written. Unfortunately, the ressurection in John has also been shown to be a forgery appended to the original document.
But this, brothers and sisters, is what faith is all about. Believing despite scholarly criticism. Believing in the face of undeniable evidence to the contrary. Believing things that you know, if you were to consider rationally, would seem patently false. Because these events were not your average, daily events. They were unique in history. If they happened at all, that is.
I guess I've run out of time, and I've rambled a little bit, but I want to conclude quickly.
If anything I've said has made you uncomfortable, you have doubts. If not, you have true faith, because nothing could ever shake your beliefs, no matter what it was. I know that the truth is out there *X-Files whistle*.
I say these things in the name of whoever you think of first, Amen.
If you didn't think of Jesus, that's your own damn fault.
Now there is a very high likelyhood that I've be wrestled off the stand partway through this talk, so I'll have to come up with something hilarious and offense-giving (but only with a minute of thought) last sentence to yell into the mic before they body-slam me. If they punch me or anything, I'll have to yell out something about how Christlike the saints are.
It's a work in progress. Maybe I'll post another draft later after I come up with some more material.
This is my first draft I'm writing up.
Good [morning, evening, afternoon], brothers and sisters.
[insert obligatory insincere apology for not preparing better here]
My talk today is about [boring topic], and to begin I thought I'd study the scriptures.
But I kinda got sidetracked by a somewhat tangential thought that I thought I'd share.
Have you ever thought: "God is an alien?" No, really! Instead of inexplicable super-powers, maybe he has super-advanced technology! We'd never know the difference. He has even revealed the name of his homeworld to us: Kolob! I imagine Kolob, home to an advanced civilization, the entire planet lit up with the lights of one enormous global city. It sounds great, we should all hie there someday.
Sorry, that got completely off topic and a little weird.
Anyway, back to [boring topic]. The first place I looked for inspiration was the life of Christ. Chirst spoke to the people, not just the leaders and the wealthy, but to the common folk. Well, not the gentiles, he tried to ignore them as much as possible. He performed unbelievable miracles of healing and knowledge. He gave himself up willingly to die. And then, the Bible tells us, he rose in glory on the third day, victorious forever over death.
Now, if you study the origin of the gospels at all, you know Mark is the first one written, and likely provided a lot of material for Matthew and Luke. The weird thing is, the account of the ressurection in Mark has been shown to have been added in long after its writing. I guess the accounts in Matthew and Luke aren't much help to us there, because they drew on Mark so much. But we have John, which is by far the most unique of the gospels and largely independent of the text of Mark, despite likely being the last gospel to be written. Unfortunately, the ressurection in John has also been shown to be a forgery appended to the original document.
But this, brothers and sisters, is what faith is all about. Believing despite scholarly criticism. Believing in the face of undeniable evidence to the contrary. Believing things that you know, if you were to consider rationally, would seem patently false. Because these events were not your average, daily events. They were unique in history. If they happened at all, that is.
I guess I've run out of time, and I've rambled a little bit, but I want to conclude quickly.
If anything I've said has made you uncomfortable, you have doubts. If not, you have true faith, because nothing could ever shake your beliefs, no matter what it was. I know that the truth is out there *X-Files whistle*.
I say these things in the name of whoever you think of first, Amen.
If you didn't think of Jesus, that's your own damn fault.
Now there is a very high likelyhood that I've be wrestled off the stand partway through this talk, so I'll have to come up with something hilarious and offense-giving (but only with a minute of thought) last sentence to yell into the mic before they body-slam me. If they punch me or anything, I'll have to yell out something about how Christlike the saints are.
It's a work in progress. Maybe I'll post another draft later after I come up with some more material.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
For the Last Time, Atheism is NOT FAITH!
This has been brewing for a while, and I'm ready to rant now.
To begin, let's get some things straight. By some definitions, atheism might well be faith. It becomes faith when it is "I don't believe in god, I deny that there is or can be a god, and no evidence or argument could ever convince me otherwise."
That, my friends, is faith, or dogma, or whatever you want to call it.
But the atheism I'm talking about is probably "weak atheism," doubting that god exists but not denying the possibility. Some may call it agnosticism, but it's not neutral. Atheist agnosticism may be the name for it, but this is all hair-splitting. The point is, I am talking about free thought and a doubt in god's existence.
So I will now point out a few differences between faith and atheism:
1) Willingness to question one's own beliefs. I, for one, regularly reconsider my beliefs, I strive to ferret out my biases and eliminate them. I consider often the possibility of a god. From what I gather, many other atheists are like me in this regard.
Faith, on the other hand, is unquestioning belief.
2) Objectivity. Religion usually prescribes a specific worldview, and rejects all other points of view. The religious are somehow different, chosen, the best people (but for reasons that are anyone's guess). There is no such stipulation included in free thought, although some atheists may be guilty of dismissal of all viewpoints but their own.
3) No need for cognitive dissonance, doublethink, or convoluted rationalization. Atheists have no need to reject certain evidence or proofs or concepts based on religious dogma. Whatever appears to be true is probably the closest to the truth. Mistakes can be made, but when a freethinker encounters unexpected conclusions that challenge his or her world-view, there is no need to hide from or explain away these phenomena.
Religion, on the other hand, is rife with doublethink, where people are willing to believe something that is clearly false by never letting themselves think about it too thoroughly. Where this fails, there is always apologetics: the meandering and often fallacious rationalization of the harder to swallow of religious doctrines.
So, as you can see, atheism is far from similar to faith. It does not require belief without evidence, or belief contrary to apparent evidence.
This is, in fact, what finally drove me from my religious beliefs: I could no longer stand to constantly limit my thinking in order to avoid recognition of the more doubtful aspects of said beliefs.
Perhaps there is a god, and maybe he wants me to do certain things. I will believe such when it seems true, not at the behest of others.
To begin, let's get some things straight. By some definitions, atheism might well be faith. It becomes faith when it is "I don't believe in god, I deny that there is or can be a god, and no evidence or argument could ever convince me otherwise."
That, my friends, is faith, or dogma, or whatever you want to call it.
But the atheism I'm talking about is probably "weak atheism," doubting that god exists but not denying the possibility. Some may call it agnosticism, but it's not neutral. Atheist agnosticism may be the name for it, but this is all hair-splitting. The point is, I am talking about free thought and a doubt in god's existence.
So I will now point out a few differences between faith and atheism:
1) Willingness to question one's own beliefs. I, for one, regularly reconsider my beliefs, I strive to ferret out my biases and eliminate them. I consider often the possibility of a god. From what I gather, many other atheists are like me in this regard.
Faith, on the other hand, is unquestioning belief.
2) Objectivity. Religion usually prescribes a specific worldview, and rejects all other points of view. The religious are somehow different, chosen, the best people (but for reasons that are anyone's guess). There is no such stipulation included in free thought, although some atheists may be guilty of dismissal of all viewpoints but their own.
3) No need for cognitive dissonance, doublethink, or convoluted rationalization. Atheists have no need to reject certain evidence or proofs or concepts based on religious dogma. Whatever appears to be true is probably the closest to the truth. Mistakes can be made, but when a freethinker encounters unexpected conclusions that challenge his or her world-view, there is no need to hide from or explain away these phenomena.
Religion, on the other hand, is rife with doublethink, where people are willing to believe something that is clearly false by never letting themselves think about it too thoroughly. Where this fails, there is always apologetics: the meandering and often fallacious rationalization of the harder to swallow of religious doctrines.
So, as you can see, atheism is far from similar to faith. It does not require belief without evidence, or belief contrary to apparent evidence.
This is, in fact, what finally drove me from my religious beliefs: I could no longer stand to constantly limit my thinking in order to avoid recognition of the more doubtful aspects of said beliefs.
Perhaps there is a god, and maybe he wants me to do certain things. I will believe such when it seems true, not at the behest of others.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Meta-Good: A Modest Proposal
I have a few scenarios to which I wonder how god would react. Here is one.
So: self-sacrifice is good, right? The highest ideal, as it were. "Greater love hath no man..." and so on.
Also: children who die before the age of accountability go straight to heaven and the celestial kingdom, right?
The rather repulsive logical conclusion given these doctrines is that all new parents should murder their newly-born offspring as soon as possible. Heck, the Christians should be clamoring for abortions!
I mean, sure, the parents go to hell and burn forever... but they do it to guarantee eternal bliss for their children, and so nobly sacrifice themselves!
I actually brings up the question: is anyone really being selfless if they are doing it to get their own selves into heaven?
Obviously, the study of ethics is trickier than I thought.
So, we could probably all agree that it seems clear in almost any religion that god doesn't condone the murder of all children (if there ever has been such a religion, it hasn't lasted for obvious reasons). But didn't he kill his kid off in order to save all of us? Hrm...
'Course it was only temporary, so not so bad, right? How then, are our kids different, if they also get resurrected?
Our human moral intuition tells us it is definitely bad to kill your kids. Like, you-are-a-horrible-lunatic-who-needs-to-die bad. But what god says is higher, right? So why not buckle down and get to business savin' those kids? Or do we hold the rational conclusions stemming from god's words as inferior to our moral intuition? Clearly, we do, because even the most pious people I know have non-dead offspring. If god is good, then our intuition must be meta-good.
It should be added, just in case, that I do not condone the killing of children. I am using this as an example of why certain religious beliefs seems to lead to moral paradox. Please, please do not kill your kids. It's a horrible thing to do.
If, by any chance, I'm in danger of convincing any religious persons that murdering their offspring is actually a reasonable idea, I implore them to remember that I am a godless atheist, and therefore everything I say is a pack of lies of Satan. I'd prefer blatant, dogmatic dismissal to the death of your children.
So: self-sacrifice is good, right? The highest ideal, as it were. "Greater love hath no man..." and so on.
Also: children who die before the age of accountability go straight to heaven and the celestial kingdom, right?
The rather repulsive logical conclusion given these doctrines is that all new parents should murder their newly-born offspring as soon as possible. Heck, the Christians should be clamoring for abortions!
I mean, sure, the parents go to hell and burn forever... but they do it to guarantee eternal bliss for their children, and so nobly sacrifice themselves!
I actually brings up the question: is anyone really being selfless if they are doing it to get their own selves into heaven?
Obviously, the study of ethics is trickier than I thought.
So, we could probably all agree that it seems clear in almost any religion that god doesn't condone the murder of all children (if there ever has been such a religion, it hasn't lasted for obvious reasons). But didn't he kill his kid off in order to save all of us? Hrm...
'Course it was only temporary, so not so bad, right? How then, are our kids different, if they also get resurrected?
Our human moral intuition tells us it is definitely bad to kill your kids. Like, you-are-a-horrible-lunatic-who-needs-to-die bad. But what god says is higher, right? So why not buckle down and get to business savin' those kids? Or do we hold the rational conclusions stemming from god's words as inferior to our moral intuition? Clearly, we do, because even the most pious people I know have non-dead offspring. If god is good, then our intuition must be meta-good.
It should be added, just in case, that I do not condone the killing of children. I am using this as an example of why certain religious beliefs seems to lead to moral paradox. Please, please do not kill your kids. It's a horrible thing to do.
If, by any chance, I'm in danger of convincing any religious persons that murdering their offspring is actually a reasonable idea, I implore them to remember that I am a godless atheist, and therefore everything I say is a pack of lies of Satan. I'd prefer blatant, dogmatic dismissal to the death of your children.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
False Ideals
I usually come up with things to post after talking to my mom. I love my mom, and I love to talk to her, but she and I are both aware of the growing gap in beliefs and values between us. Therefore, we have these little "micro-arguments" that we give up on quickly because we like being friends and don't want to argue religion every single time we talk.
Yesterday's micro-arguments included a discussion on whether missionaries look like dorks (my wife and I just visited Japan, and I was very surprised at the lack of mocking disdain in the glances of strangers on the street). I definitely looked like a dork. But whatever.
The other argument, that barely even got started before I gave up on it, was about obedience. I made some comment about mission rules and how silly they can be, and my mom started talking about the merits of obedience for obedience's sake. This, of course, is one of the things I've given up on completely: doing or believing things for no good reason. But, like I said, I just said "okay. okay. yeah. okay," and that was that.
I got thinking, after talking to my mother, about ideals I don't find in any way appealing. I would say the largest factor in my rejection of an ideal is the expectation that the ideal be accepted for its own sake, without any analysis.
For example:
Patriotism: how is patriotism more than glorified ethnocentrism? I guess it depends how you define the term, but there seems to be a general feeling of "my country is the best and deserves to be doing better than all the other countries." Of course, I couldn't talk about this with almost any of my relatives, because it's patriotism! It makes itself okay, and how dare I search for the underlying motivations!
Faith: faith also has many definitions, but in the religious sense it tends to correspond to unsupported belief. How is this good or useful? If I have faith in something, it means that no matter how irrational the idea is, and how glaring the counterexamples, I believe it. This is known as insanity when it is about anything other than mystical beings and the afterlife and whatnot. As soon as it's religious, though, you'd better not be down on faith! Faith is the highest virtue: complete, untested belief in something someone else told you, most likely because you once had a vague, emotional indication of its possibility in a time of emotional distress. Once the decision is made, it's faith, dammit, and you're never backing down from that position!
Now I understand that ideals rely on ethics, which are inherently beyond rational defense. However, when only one thin layer of abstraction lies between an ideal and the reasons why it might well be a bad, bad idea, one worries.
Yesterday's micro-arguments included a discussion on whether missionaries look like dorks (my wife and I just visited Japan, and I was very surprised at the lack of mocking disdain in the glances of strangers on the street). I definitely looked like a dork. But whatever.
The other argument, that barely even got started before I gave up on it, was about obedience. I made some comment about mission rules and how silly they can be, and my mom started talking about the merits of obedience for obedience's sake. This, of course, is one of the things I've given up on completely: doing or believing things for no good reason. But, like I said, I just said "okay. okay. yeah. okay," and that was that.
I got thinking, after talking to my mother, about ideals I don't find in any way appealing. I would say the largest factor in my rejection of an ideal is the expectation that the ideal be accepted for its own sake, without any analysis.
For example:
Patriotism: how is patriotism more than glorified ethnocentrism? I guess it depends how you define the term, but there seems to be a general feeling of "my country is the best and deserves to be doing better than all the other countries." Of course, I couldn't talk about this with almost any of my relatives, because it's patriotism! It makes itself okay, and how dare I search for the underlying motivations!
Faith: faith also has many definitions, but in the religious sense it tends to correspond to unsupported belief. How is this good or useful? If I have faith in something, it means that no matter how irrational the idea is, and how glaring the counterexamples, I believe it. This is known as insanity when it is about anything other than mystical beings and the afterlife and whatnot. As soon as it's religious, though, you'd better not be down on faith! Faith is the highest virtue: complete, untested belief in something someone else told you, most likely because you once had a vague, emotional indication of its possibility in a time of emotional distress. Once the decision is made, it's faith, dammit, and you're never backing down from that position!
Now I understand that ideals rely on ethics, which are inherently beyond rational defense. However, when only one thin layer of abstraction lies between an ideal and the reasons why it might well be a bad, bad idea, one worries.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Anxiety
I have noticed, as I've slowly adapted to the idea that I don't believe in god, that my dreams have changed a bit.
For some background, I'm on some medication that gives me vivid, unpleasant dreams sometimes. At first, I had nightmares every night and woke up upset and disturbed, but after a while it calmed down to what it is now: most nights I have at least one vivid dream about something I'm anxious about. This includes grades, social slip-ups, etc. I wake up sweating and nervous, but get over it almost immediately.
One interesting aspect of this side-effect is that it very clearly reveals my anxieties on an almost daily basis.
One of the major themes? Bieng outed as the godless atheist that I am.
I've dreamed about being called in to the bishop. Crap! I might lose my endorsement at BYU!
I've worried about being rejected by my brother, who is my best buddy, but who is currently Mr. SuperMissionary and comes home in 5 months.
I think my parents have even been in there, even though they have an inkling of how "misled" I am.
I don't want my professors to know, because it could affect my letters of recommendation when it comes time to apply for grad programs. I'd prefer to keep it from most of my friends, and all of my ward members (ugh, can you imagine the unwanted attention in the form of efforts to "fellowship" me?).
Maybe someday I can be more open. Definitely when I'm out of BYU my academic future will no longer ride so much on my religious beliefs. In grad school I'll probably not be expected to believe a certain thing by everyone around me. But for now it makes me a little uptight.
My mom talked about my brother-in-law Rob the other day, and warned me that I should probably avoid his blog because it "doesn't have a good spirit about it." This, of course, is Mormon for "it does not support the church wholeheartedly or reject doubt outright."
It made me want to laugh, actually. Seriously? Good thing you don't know about my blog, Mom. Rob's is pretty benign compared to mine; he's very civil and measured in his writing. I, on the other hand, rant and rave and blaspheme on a regular basis. This is where I vent when I don't want to try to argue with people.
I wonder if my parents will ever happen upon this blog. It's not impossible by any means; there are a number of ways they might find it. If they do, it might be trouble. They may have an inkling of my atheism, but they probably don't know how rabid and antagonistic toward god and religion I can be sometimes.
For some background, I'm on some medication that gives me vivid, unpleasant dreams sometimes. At first, I had nightmares every night and woke up upset and disturbed, but after a while it calmed down to what it is now: most nights I have at least one vivid dream about something I'm anxious about. This includes grades, social slip-ups, etc. I wake up sweating and nervous, but get over it almost immediately.
One interesting aspect of this side-effect is that it very clearly reveals my anxieties on an almost daily basis.
One of the major themes? Bieng outed as the godless atheist that I am.
I've dreamed about being called in to the bishop. Crap! I might lose my endorsement at BYU!
I've worried about being rejected by my brother, who is my best buddy, but who is currently Mr. SuperMissionary and comes home in 5 months.
I think my parents have even been in there, even though they have an inkling of how "misled" I am.
I don't want my professors to know, because it could affect my letters of recommendation when it comes time to apply for grad programs. I'd prefer to keep it from most of my friends, and all of my ward members (ugh, can you imagine the unwanted attention in the form of efforts to "fellowship" me?).
Maybe someday I can be more open. Definitely when I'm out of BYU my academic future will no longer ride so much on my religious beliefs. In grad school I'll probably not be expected to believe a certain thing by everyone around me. But for now it makes me a little uptight.
My mom talked about my brother-in-law Rob the other day, and warned me that I should probably avoid his blog because it "doesn't have a good spirit about it." This, of course, is Mormon for "it does not support the church wholeheartedly or reject doubt outright."
It made me want to laugh, actually. Seriously? Good thing you don't know about my blog, Mom. Rob's is pretty benign compared to mine; he's very civil and measured in his writing. I, on the other hand, rant and rave and blaspheme on a regular basis. This is where I vent when I don't want to try to argue with people.
I wonder if my parents will ever happen upon this blog. It's not impossible by any means; there are a number of ways they might find it. If they do, it might be trouble. They may have an inkling of my atheism, but they probably don't know how rabid and antagonistic toward god and religion I can be sometimes.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Blasphemous Blogging?
So none of this that I'm about to write is really very kosher by any Christian's view, I'd imagine, but if there's a hell I'm probably on the way there in any case, so I thought I'd vent a little.
What would Jesus do? We're supposed to ask ourselves that, right?
Well... based on what we know abou the guy, my guess is he'd utter a lot of platitudes, intentionally confuse people, piss off basically everybody, and then die.
But honestly, what would he do in most situations? Would he pirate MP3s? Would he drive 5 mph hour the speed limit? Would he make pizza sauce himself or buy it canned?
Basically, all I can say is, I have no friggin' clue, and as far as I can tell, neither do you.
The guy has been dead now for a couple millenia, and all we have are inconsistent accounts of dubious authorship that were written, as near as we can tell, about a century after the purported events took place.
Okay, so I know it's supposed to be "Christ lives," right? But does he really? I mean, how many people that died 2000 years ago are alive now? There are exactly zero documented cases.
In church, someone talked on Sunday about how meek and kind and forgiving and understanding Jesus is. Right? Well, except for him killing random fig trees out of spite (it was symbolic, right? Oh, wait, then why kill the poor tree instead of giving another cryptic parable about a tree?). And being really, really mean to most of the people around him. Saying downright mean and dissmissive things to his mom, family and friends. How about racism?
Like seriously. Jesus said some things that are salve for the soul or wise or cool, but he also said a bunch of inconsistent, unkind, and nonsensical things. If, that is, we trust the record at all.
So, clearly, I'm the worst blasphemer ever, but I just don't get it. I don't even know why I'd need a savior... not that I don't make mistakes, but I can't understand how god can be such a wacko that he can't figure out a way to forgive people without throwing his son out to die at the hands of "his" people. And great job, by the waty, on those people. Seems like nothing you told them made any difference, god.
Maybe there's a god. Maybe there's a Christ. Maybe I'm going to rot in hell, and all the evangelicals out there will happily dance upon my grave just before being raptured up to paradise.
But in that case, god is insane. He makes no sense at all. Have fun in heaven with your psychotic overlord.
A few days ago, the Provo Tabernacle burned to the ground. Except for the severely-damaged outside walls, the thing is just gone. But, there's a painting inside where everything except the picture of Jesus in the middle is burned.
"A Miracle!" they call it. Clearly, all pictures of Jesus are fireproof. We should just build all our houses out of pictures of him, then fire would never be a problem!
So... what I'm thinking is, if god was intent on performing a miracle that night, couldn't he have just put out the fire? It would have saved the church a bundle, Provo a lot of hassle, and would have prevented the destruction of a beautiful historic building.
Seriously, do people really believe it when they say every single slightly-good thing is a tender mercy of god, and every horrible thing is, of course, god's will? Thanks god, for the mostly-burnt painting. Maybe next you can work on saving the starving orphans of the world, or maybe the polar bears. I'd trade the damn painting for the polar bears.
I got terrible grades this semester. I'm sure some would attribute it to my utter rejection on god, recently. But you know, if prayer really worked, you'd expect the devoutly religious to have consistently higher test scores. Plently of failing students at BYU are perfect Mormons, and plently of straight-A students everywhere find the idea of a personal god laughable.
Anecdotes are not data. Your friend may have prayed and gotten her wish of a smooth day at work on the same day that many, many people prayed for a dying loved one, and the loved one died.
Game over. Thanks for playing.
What would Jesus do? We're supposed to ask ourselves that, right?
Well... based on what we know abou the guy, my guess is he'd utter a lot of platitudes, intentionally confuse people, piss off basically everybody, and then die.
But honestly, what would he do in most situations? Would he pirate MP3s? Would he drive 5 mph hour the speed limit? Would he make pizza sauce himself or buy it canned?
Basically, all I can say is, I have no friggin' clue, and as far as I can tell, neither do you.
The guy has been dead now for a couple millenia, and all we have are inconsistent accounts of dubious authorship that were written, as near as we can tell, about a century after the purported events took place.
Okay, so I know it's supposed to be "Christ lives," right? But does he really? I mean, how many people that died 2000 years ago are alive now? There are exactly zero documented cases.
In church, someone talked on Sunday about how meek and kind and forgiving and understanding Jesus is. Right? Well, except for him killing random fig trees out of spite (it was symbolic, right? Oh, wait, then why kill the poor tree instead of giving another cryptic parable about a tree?). And being really, really mean to most of the people around him. Saying downright mean and dissmissive things to his mom, family and friends. How about racism?
Like seriously. Jesus said some things that are salve for the soul or wise or cool, but he also said a bunch of inconsistent, unkind, and nonsensical things. If, that is, we trust the record at all.
So, clearly, I'm the worst blasphemer ever, but I just don't get it. I don't even know why I'd need a savior... not that I don't make mistakes, but I can't understand how god can be such a wacko that he can't figure out a way to forgive people without throwing his son out to die at the hands of "his" people. And great job, by the waty, on those people. Seems like nothing you told them made any difference, god.
Maybe there's a god. Maybe there's a Christ. Maybe I'm going to rot in hell, and all the evangelicals out there will happily dance upon my grave just before being raptured up to paradise.
But in that case, god is insane. He makes no sense at all. Have fun in heaven with your psychotic overlord.
A few days ago, the Provo Tabernacle burned to the ground. Except for the severely-damaged outside walls, the thing is just gone. But, there's a painting inside where everything except the picture of Jesus in the middle is burned.
"A Miracle!" they call it. Clearly, all pictures of Jesus are fireproof. We should just build all our houses out of pictures of him, then fire would never be a problem!
So... what I'm thinking is, if god was intent on performing a miracle that night, couldn't he have just put out the fire? It would have saved the church a bundle, Provo a lot of hassle, and would have prevented the destruction of a beautiful historic building.
Seriously, do people really believe it when they say every single slightly-good thing is a tender mercy of god, and every horrible thing is, of course, god's will? Thanks god, for the mostly-burnt painting. Maybe next you can work on saving the starving orphans of the world, or maybe the polar bears. I'd trade the damn painting for the polar bears.
I got terrible grades this semester. I'm sure some would attribute it to my utter rejection on god, recently. But you know, if prayer really worked, you'd expect the devoutly religious to have consistently higher test scores. Plently of failing students at BYU are perfect Mormons, and plently of straight-A students everywhere find the idea of a personal god laughable.
Anecdotes are not data. Your friend may have prayed and gotten her wish of a smooth day at work on the same day that many, many people prayed for a dying loved one, and the loved one died.
Game over. Thanks for playing.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Sunday Morning Number Fun
I had an entertaining time running some (admittedly extremely rough) numbers this morning.
I was reflecting on how the LDS church is very proud of its exponential growth curve, and started thinking that it might be interesting to plot the percent of the world that is LDS over time, rather than the straight-up population.
Here's what I found:
So, it seems the church can still boast a nice exponential growth in terms of the portion of the world they can call their own. The fit, by the way, is (% of world)=0.001*exp(0.03*(year-1830)).
Now, a few comments before I go further. Obviously, you can't go above 100%, so this can't be a straight-up exponential, it'd have to reach an inflection point up to some point. That being said, up until about half the maximum value the church will reach, the fit should be reasonable. So we have to make some assumptions about the church's maximum size (in proportion to the world) to know how far we can set any kind of store whatsoever by this fit.
In addition, world population may reach an inflection point at any time, and further screw with our model. However, as I said, for the time being, hopefully we can trust the fit for a few years.
Finally, there is an obvious anomaly in the data right at the end where the growth rate seems to drastically drop, which might be an indication that the inflection point has already been crossed. However, for the sake of fun, I'm going to give the church the benefit of the doubt and chalk it up to noisy data.
So with that stuff out of the way, we can have a bit of fun.
One of my favorite elder's quorum discussions is "when do you brethren think the second coming will be?"
We always get the mandatory 2012 (the current favorite end-of-the-world for any crackpot theorist), and there are a lot of guesses between 10-30 years in the future. It is universally assumed that it will happen in our lifetime, or at the very latest our kids'.
I believe it is generally held in the church that a significant fraction of the world must be LDS before Jesus decides to show. I'm sure some would insist on 50% or something like that, but let's assume a smaller fraction is sufficient. Say... 10%?
Given the (idiotically optimistic) fit I've found for the church's growth rate, the church should reach 10% of the world's population at around 2130. We probably won't be around anymore. Our kids probably won't either... but maybe our grandkids. Maybe.
Anyway, like I said, the numbers pretty much explode after this, and we'd have to come up with a much better model if we want to predict any further out. In any case, if the church needs even 10% of the world before Jesus comes a-knockin, we've got a little while to wait.
Basically, the point of all this is, I can't wait for the next time someone brings this up in elder's quorum. I want to see the looks of discomfort when I tell people it seems unlikely that Jesus will be around any time in the next century, give the church's historical growth and generally-held teachings.
I was reflecting on how the LDS church is very proud of its exponential growth curve, and started thinking that it might be interesting to plot the percent of the world that is LDS over time, rather than the straight-up population.
Here's what I found:
So, it seems the church can still boast a nice exponential growth in terms of the portion of the world they can call their own. The fit, by the way, is (% of world)=0.001*exp(0.03*(year-1830)).
Now, a few comments before I go further. Obviously, you can't go above 100%, so this can't be a straight-up exponential, it'd have to reach an inflection point up to some point. That being said, up until about half the maximum value the church will reach, the fit should be reasonable. So we have to make some assumptions about the church's maximum size (in proportion to the world) to know how far we can set any kind of store whatsoever by this fit.
In addition, world population may reach an inflection point at any time, and further screw with our model. However, as I said, for the time being, hopefully we can trust the fit for a few years.
Finally, there is an obvious anomaly in the data right at the end where the growth rate seems to drastically drop, which might be an indication that the inflection point has already been crossed. However, for the sake of fun, I'm going to give the church the benefit of the doubt and chalk it up to noisy data.
So with that stuff out of the way, we can have a bit of fun.
One of my favorite elder's quorum discussions is "when do you brethren think the second coming will be?"
We always get the mandatory 2012 (the current favorite end-of-the-world for any crackpot theorist), and there are a lot of guesses between 10-30 years in the future. It is universally assumed that it will happen in our lifetime, or at the very latest our kids'.
I believe it is generally held in the church that a significant fraction of the world must be LDS before Jesus decides to show. I'm sure some would insist on 50% or something like that, but let's assume a smaller fraction is sufficient. Say... 10%?
Given the (idiotically optimistic) fit I've found for the church's growth rate, the church should reach 10% of the world's population at around 2130. We probably won't be around anymore. Our kids probably won't either... but maybe our grandkids. Maybe.
Anyway, like I said, the numbers pretty much explode after this, and we'd have to come up with a much better model if we want to predict any further out. In any case, if the church needs even 10% of the world before Jesus comes a-knockin, we've got a little while to wait.
Basically, the point of all this is, I can't wait for the next time someone brings this up in elder's quorum. I want to see the looks of discomfort when I tell people it seems unlikely that Jesus will be around any time in the next century, give the church's historical growth and generally-held teachings.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Don't Use Unfair Arguments!
I talked to my mom yesterday, and she brought up the subject of faith. She wasn't too confrontational, but definitely was trying, again, to convince me that I ought to stay active in the church.
She talked about some people she knows (disapprovingly) who have left the church, and how it was not fair to their spouses because it was understood at the beginning of the marriages that the church would be part of their marriage and family.
I don't completely object to this line of reasoning, because I've thought that maybe I should attend church socially for my wife's sake. It wouldn't be so bad, after I was out of BYU and no longer obligated to keep secret my disbelieve in god, accept callings, etc.
What I object to is the injustice of this argument when used by my mother, who very openly applauds a former Catholic minister who joined the church in her ward despite the concern that it has caused his wife. If my mom is going to use the above argument, she'd damn-well better make sure she's okay with it working against her beloved church.
The same goes for another thing she tried to tell me last night: she was telling me that religious experiences are very subtle, but that you had to learn to trust them. I indicated that some people don't really have very convincing experiences, and she said something like "but what about family and friends who have had those experiences?" I told her that that doesn't help, because there are people all over the world having religious experiences confirming the truth of vastly different worldviews. She seemed shocked and asked "what about your family and people who really care about you, though?"
I think it's only fair for her to say this if she is willing to disapprove just as strongly of people coming from other faiths into the LDS church despite their family's devotion to another faith.
She talked about another person who'd left the church because he'd tried hard and eventually given up, as if he'd done it on a whim and altogether too quickly. The idea, I believe, is that if you don't believe in the church, keep trying to until you do, or until you die. If she is willing to argue this way, she'd better be ready to accept the argument that other faiths should never convert to Mormonism, but keep plugging away trying to make their own faith work for them.
There are many other arguments of this nature thrown around all over the place. The LDS church teaches its members to avoid anything critical of the church like the plague, like it'd smut or a pack of vicious lies and authored by the devil himself. Yet the church openly and smilingly criticizes the doctrines, practices, and historical actions of other churches regularly. It's part of the missionary lessons.
Why exactly shouldn't I read anything critical about the church? Can't I make my own decisions about the validity of its claims? Getting only one narrow side of the story never seems like a good idea.
Is it thoughtcrime? Am I committing treason by even considering that the church might be based on a bunch of fiction? And yet the church and its membership are moved to tears of joy by the stories of people having doubts about their own faiths and then joining up with the LDS church when it better fit how they felt the world should operate.
If I am a traitor, then every freaking religious person who has ever joined the church is a traitor.
I understand why these arguments propagate so well in the church; they are persuasive arguments in their own ways and the church circulates ideas that are best-suited to preserve itself. It's not necessarily deliberate, it's the mind-virus adapting to its host. Among religions, blindness to your own implicit exempt status from your own arguments seems to be a particularly common symptom.
She talked about some people she knows (disapprovingly) who have left the church, and how it was not fair to their spouses because it was understood at the beginning of the marriages that the church would be part of their marriage and family.
I don't completely object to this line of reasoning, because I've thought that maybe I should attend church socially for my wife's sake. It wouldn't be so bad, after I was out of BYU and no longer obligated to keep secret my disbelieve in god, accept callings, etc.
What I object to is the injustice of this argument when used by my mother, who very openly applauds a former Catholic minister who joined the church in her ward despite the concern that it has caused his wife. If my mom is going to use the above argument, she'd damn-well better make sure she's okay with it working against her beloved church.
The same goes for another thing she tried to tell me last night: she was telling me that religious experiences are very subtle, but that you had to learn to trust them. I indicated that some people don't really have very convincing experiences, and she said something like "but what about family and friends who have had those experiences?" I told her that that doesn't help, because there are people all over the world having religious experiences confirming the truth of vastly different worldviews. She seemed shocked and asked "what about your family and people who really care about you, though?"
I think it's only fair for her to say this if she is willing to disapprove just as strongly of people coming from other faiths into the LDS church despite their family's devotion to another faith.
She talked about another person who'd left the church because he'd tried hard and eventually given up, as if he'd done it on a whim and altogether too quickly. The idea, I believe, is that if you don't believe in the church, keep trying to until you do, or until you die. If she is willing to argue this way, she'd better be ready to accept the argument that other faiths should never convert to Mormonism, but keep plugging away trying to make their own faith work for them.
There are many other arguments of this nature thrown around all over the place. The LDS church teaches its members to avoid anything critical of the church like the plague, like it'd smut or a pack of vicious lies and authored by the devil himself. Yet the church openly and smilingly criticizes the doctrines, practices, and historical actions of other churches regularly. It's part of the missionary lessons.
Why exactly shouldn't I read anything critical about the church? Can't I make my own decisions about the validity of its claims? Getting only one narrow side of the story never seems like a good idea.
Is it thoughtcrime? Am I committing treason by even considering that the church might be based on a bunch of fiction? And yet the church and its membership are moved to tears of joy by the stories of people having doubts about their own faiths and then joining up with the LDS church when it better fit how they felt the world should operate.
If I am a traitor, then every freaking religious person who has ever joined the church is a traitor.
I understand why these arguments propagate so well in the church; they are persuasive arguments in their own ways and the church circulates ideas that are best-suited to preserve itself. It's not necessarily deliberate, it's the mind-virus adapting to its host. Among religions, blindness to your own implicit exempt status from your own arguments seems to be a particularly common symptom.
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