Our Collective Subjective: Or, There's No Such Thing as Objective Truth

From the universe's point of view, we are of no more concern than any other atom, planet or speck of dust. The universe does not distinguish the violent ending of a human life from the snapping of a tulip's stem. There is no Universe or God of Tulips who is going to prevent you from clipping those buds in late spring. Because the universe doesn't care. It is indifferent.

In Secular Wholeness, David Cortesi observes: 

This universe regards the murder of one human by another exactly the way it regards an avalanche falling on a human, or a virus infecting one: with sublime indifference. Avalanches fall; viruses infect; mammals prey on one another-- it's what they do. 

Because the Universe is not a conscious, all-encompassing being--at least there's no indication of this so far--it negates the possibility of an objective reality or truth. As humans, we can only know truth from our own individual and collective perspectives. But as insignificant beings in a vast universe without (so far) other conscious life, there is no objective, fixed and ultimate, truth. 

Even if another conscious species were to come along, that species would be subjected to their own collective subjective. Objective reality, or truth, cannot exist because there is no One who can see every view point. There is no One who is omnipotent, though it would be vastly convenient if there were. 

Does this negate human morality? Far from it. Cortesi continues:

Now, this absolutely does not mean that we should be indifferent! On the contrary, desiring to be moral, trying to be compassionate, and urging other people to be moral and compassionate are also things that we do quite as naturally and with better outcomes for our own survival.

What it means is that there is no objective morality; there is no right and wrong beyond what humanity ascribes as right and wrong. However, the morality invented by humanity will only be from humanity's subjective viewpoint. Because you are human and I am human, This Means You!, we are accountable to our species' definition of morality. In fact, it is this very collective subjective which creates our morality, a code for living.

Religion will tell you that there is only one right way to to be and do. Which we know to be completely false as religion has failed, and continues to fail, at it's own morality as well as the collective morality. 

Additionally, as Cortesi points out, it is the refinement of this collective morality which increases our chances of survival as a species, though not necessarily as individuals. Another excuse to be immoral? Possibly. But consider your probable chances of a happy life if you choose an illegal occupation over a legal one. Consider the quality of your close relationships if you continuously lie and manipulate, instead of treating others with compassion. Yes, bad things do happen to good people, but morality substantially increases your chances of happiness.

 

What does the subjective collective mean for you? First, it means you cannot view the world in black and white, good and evil. Those are concepts we have created. The same way we have created countless gods, civilizations, and poetry. You will have to look at the evidence and you will have to think. You will have to use all of the tools at your disposal to come up with what you should do, how you should behave, how you can help others. You will have to make the decision. 

Second, it means you cannot judge other humans based on an objective moral code. Judging and convicting criminals is part of our society, but the rules by which we pass judgement cannot be set in stone. In every case, it is the betterment of the species that has to be considered, the collective subjective. As we grow and access more knowledge of the physical universe, our understanding of right and wrong changes. Our collective subjective changes. 

It is by coming together and facing the indifferent universe united as a species that we will progress.

Does the Average 'Sunday Jane' Really Believe This Shit?

My former profession was a female-dominant workforce. I shared a working space with three other women, all Christian, two Catholic. Though we never discussed it, I believe they were aware I did not attend church and was a "nonbeliever". From time to time, I would overhear conversations about various church happenings and promises to pray for this or that personal calamity.

I attended an undergraduate Evangelical college. (Evangelicalism is a branch off of Protestant Christianity which, most distinctively, recognizes the believer's "assurance of faith".) I took many classes on the history of Christianity, the doctrines of the faith, and even entire semesters devoted to single books of the Bible. So I have a heafty understanding of church doctrine. Not necessarily something I'm proud of, but then, you work with what you have. Clergy, pastors, reverends and others like me have a deeper understanding of exactly what is meant (at least according to current century interpretations) by phrases such as "the Word became flesh" (John 1) or "This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood" (Luke 22).

Now back to my three co-workers, or even just the average church-goer in general. What happens when you try and bring up these tricky questions with them? Of course they can do little more than repeat doctrine they have been told, if they are even able to do that. But more practically speaking, when you are talking about something as important as the meaning of the universe or the final destination of your "soul", isn't it important to actually know what you believe? Even if you can't explain hundreds of years worth of the Popes' memoirs, shouldn't you have your own basic understanding of your religion?

Why is it that the average church-goer (or adherents of any religion) are satisfied with not knowing what the church actually teaches? Why are Christians embarrassed to talk about the important questions of their faith outside of church?

For the sake of argument, imagine me bringing up any of the following topics with my three pious church ladies:

• The Holy Spirit is God and is all around us. So, you're telling me that God, in spirit form, is right here in the air between my fingers and the keyboard. If I wave my hand over my head, I'm waving my hand through God? If I lay a stink-bomb, will God choke and gag?
• Those who reject Jesus go to hell. You're telling me that as we sit in this meeting discussing our plans for next quarter, all the while I'm (unknowingly) going to spend eternity in hell? How can you just sit there tapping your pencil? Don't you want to save my soul? 
  
• Prayer will bring about divine intercession that otherwise would not have occurred. So, your brother's uncle's sister-in-law is in the hospital and will have life-saving surgery tomorrow and you say you will keep her in your prayers. If you are so convinced this will have such a significant impact, why don't the two of you step outside and pray in the parking lot for this poor doomed lady? Why not? Oh, because you actually know that it's not going to work and you'll look silly in the process ... oh, wait, I'm ruining my own punch line.

Given half a chance, Christians will talk your ear off about the community service their church is involved in. The pious Christian is happy you recount for you Sunday's service as well as who they saw there and the latest gossip. But how often do you hear Christians in the real world talking about exactly what they believe? (And I'm not talking about the loony sandwich board guys. I mean, the soccer moms, PTA presidents, and bus drivers.) Their silence is odd considering how important all this supposedly is.

The first reason: They feel they are uneducated about the finer points of their faith. But even stripping Christianity down to its most basic belief that Jesus died for your sins, the average believer is at a loss to explain exactly what this means. How exactly does the "sin" transfer from one person to another? Once transferred, how does the death of this one individual make the "sin" disappear?  Assuming "god" is able to make all this magic happen, wouldn't it be quicker to just hose everyone down like they do with uncooperative asylum initiates. Even the most uneducated Christian needs to understand this most basic doctrine of the faith, enough to talk about it the same way you explain to your children that thunder and lightning are the same thing.

The second reason: They are afraid of criticism. Or, in other words, they are afraid of looking stupid. (I will skip the arguments for martyrdom, knowing that not everyone was born to be a martyr.) Why would someone criticize your beliefs? If they criticize your beliefs, can you present logical arguments to defend your position? Usually, the religious are able to do little more than repeat what they have been told about their religion. They do very little thinking about it for themselves. This is something to be embarrassed about. When Einstein or Newton or Galileo presented their "beliefs", how did they deal with criticism? They presented logical arguments, and continued to speak out. In the end, it turned out that their critics were the ones embarrassed. Why don't Christians (the average ones, not the educated ones) avoid the criticism?

The answer is that ultimately the every Sunday Jane and Joe know that their religion is hokey. They know they look silly praying outside of church, even though that is what their religion tells them to do. They know that the doctrines about Christ's saving blood don't mean squat. They don't argue with nonbelievers because they know how silly most church doctrines are.

This isn't enough, however, to turn Jane and Joe against the church. This would mean losing their family, friends, support network. Also, they can easily change the subject to the morality the church teaches (which Humanism also teaches) and how the church provides aid to third world countries (which non-religious organizations do also).

Ultimately, average church-goers aren't religious outside the comfort zone of their own church walls because they don't believe it. But they aren't ballsy enough to think for themselves which might actually mean they have to stand up and contradict the religious majority(?). 

Religious Divisions? Science Unties!

This past weekend my Rev. Mother spoke at ceremony for the departure of a Protestant denomination church from its larger national network of churches. In other words, this particular church didn't agree with the decisions the other "like" churches were making, and so, made the move of countless other religious factions before them. They split. 

Shouldn't be surprising considering it's nearly impossible to count even the number of Christian sects. Something like 41,000? Read this if you really want a breakdown. And of course that's just one of the world's Big Six religions. 

Even more impressive is this artistic map of the world's religions. Though as I understand it, it's missing several branches of Islam. Is it even possible to list every version of religion? Since it seems no two people

can agree, we could simplify things by listing each religion by each person who believes it. How many people are on the planet right now? *Sigh* See this is why I don't dabble in statistics.

All of this is to say the longer any one religion exists, history tells us, the more divisions it will have because the more charismatic know-it-alls will disagree with each other.

Consider, instead, science. Mathematics has been called a language all its own. Those skilled enough to speak it (regardless of what language they speak at home) can have conversations with each other. There's nothing about mathematics that ever changes. As it grows, it becomes more refined. And as it refines, experts agree more and more as to what is mathematically right and wrong. That is to say, mathematics unites those who understand it.

We see the same pattern in science. As more and more knowledge is gained about our physical world, scientists agree more and more. Of course there will always be disagreements about what is unknown, what has not yet been proven. But consider human knowledge of the planets. Once thought to revolve around our own planet, today scientists have a more accurate understanding of how celestial bodies orbit the sun and are controlled by gravity. In other words, rather than divide, this knowledge unites scientists. They can agree about previously discovered and proved theories, and move on to other mysteries of our universe. 

In Sense and Goodness Without God, Richard Carrier observes: 

[N]aturalists throughout history, who arrived at their views wholly independently of each other, even in widely differing cultures, have all converged toward the same general conclusions and world pictures, ensuring that our worldview even if always a minority view, will still find more and more uniformity rather than division of views. Yet Christianity a thousand years from now will not be the same Christianity lived today, just as what we have today is not the same as that lived a thousand years ago. In all periods we meet hundreds of sects at fundamental variance with each other. Every other major religion faces the same story.

So, this defecting church, pulling away from its like-minded sister churches, will set out on its individual path of "truth". Once again claiming to have the only true knowledge of "god" and what that god wants. 

If "god" were actually real, don't you think he would step in a do something about all these disagreements? I mean, he could really clear up a whole bunch of shit by giving us Ten Clearer Commandments which actually tell us something about abortion rights, marriage rights, human sexuality, taxation laws. 

I mean, if I were Goddess, I'd want these things cleared up for sure. 

Why I Let My Kids Go to Church: An Apostate's Perspective

My parents raised me in a Protestant church. They are both devoutly religious, sometimes even to the point of compromising their own happiness. But then, I guess that just makes them martyrs. And I suppose my reverend mother is thrilled about that. TheLordofDarkness and I do not attend church of course, as we are atheists. But my parents offer to bring our daughter (and son when he is old enough) to Sunday services. And, if she wishes, I permit her to go.

Certainly, I do not wish for my kids to grow up devout Christians. I do not want them to sacrifice their happiness for the sake of piety. And, most of all, I do not want them to develop the superiority complex that seems to come with so many fundamentalist theistic traditions.

However, I believe, the most effective way of preventing my daughter's "salvation" is to pay no attention to it whatsoever. I deliberately show no preference either way. In fact, in some ways, I almost think it is better, at least for now, for her to go to church, given the opportunity. Especially since I don't have to take her, which of course I never would.

Why do I think sending children to church is a good thing?

Truth is self-evident

When thinking of my daughter sitting through liturgy, I remember my own journey through the halls and falls of religion. And it is that journey, my own experiences, which have made me the luminous apostate I am today. A quote my Friedrich Nietzsche is one I have carried close to my atheist heart since the inception of my non-belief: People who comprehend a thing to its very depths rarely stay faithful to it forever. It is the knowledge of the thing which will drive her away from the church in the end.

I have complete faith in the church to reveal itself to my intelligent children in due time. Hypocrisy is never so clear as when you are face-to-face with it. I will, of course, love my children no matter what choices they ultimately make. However, at least when it comes to hypocrisy, an inability to recognize empirical evidence, and a reckless ignorance of the true needs of humanity ... well, the church as never let me down before.

The Allure of the Forbidden

If I learned anything from my parents it's that any time they want me to do something, I want to do the opposite. Even if I don't really want to. Just for spite. So, not letting my kids do something is the only surefire way to guarantee they will do it.

My approach? I keep it cool. It's no big thing. Sure, go to church if you want to. I don't agree with it or believe in it, but you can if you want to. The hardest lesson I've had to learn as a parent is how to make non-compliance a non-event. But once I got that down, well, I just took all the fun out of being stubborn!

Religious education is important

I know, I know ... say it ain't so. Whether or not we agree with it, religion is part of human history. And part of growing is learning from mistakes. Ignorance of history helps no one, and only threatens a repetition of mistakes. We don't avoid teaching our children the horrors of the Holocaust. Why should church history, or Biblical history, be any different?

Knowing about something doesn't make it true. Granted, the church will teach that their truth is the only truth. Unfortunately, for them, the world is getting smaller. Schools aren't allowed to acknowledge Christmas without also teaching Hanukkah and Kwanzaa too. Kids are smarter than most adults give them credit for. And the mere exposure to differing traditions, cultures and points of view reveals the impossibility of "only one" truth. Trust in the hypocrisy of the church. It won't let you down.

There is one criteria I gave my daughter for attending church. She is allowed to believe whatever she wants as long as she is tolerant of the beliefs of others. She asked me why TheLordofDarkenss and I didn't go to church. I very simply explained that we didn't believe in "god" and we didn't agree with the things the church taught. Predictably defiant, she proclaimed that I was wrong. That there was a "god", etc. (She said the same thing when I told her there was no Santa Claus, btw.) And I told her it was fine if she wanted to believe that. But intolerance was not acceptable, and a one-way ticket to sleeping in on Sunday morning.

Everyone is on his or her own journey through life. And I don't put myself in a position to tell others what they should or shouldn't be doing (except in extreme cases), including my children. I will be here for them no matter what paths they choose in life. And if nothing else, I can dispel the myth that atheists are evil, devil worshipers.

Why I Am (and am not) an Athiest

After a childhood of Sunday school and feeling dissatisfied with "reality" as it had been taught to me, all it took was Richard Dawkins's The God Delusion to see the world in a whole new light.

At first it was freeing, euphoric even. The world wasn't confined to the Christian apologetic arguments that didn't really prove anything anyway! More importantly, I wasn't confined to the predetermined life some all-powerful being had prescribed for me. My desires weren't sin. They were human nature, and I had every right to explore them without guilt or shame (within the ethical confines of do-no-harm of course).

But after a few years of this existential playground, I began to feel empty. In the atheist world, reason (not emotion)  is the name of the game. Everything bows to logic. There is no room for emotive human beings. We are atoms, interacting with other atoms. Emotions are irrational.

Again, I started to feel restricted. A large piece of who I am was missing from this worldview. After all, reason is not the only thing humans are capable of. Even the best of us cow to our nonsensical feelings every now and then.

While some may be able to thrive in the emotional desert that is atheism, I could not. Yet again, I wanted more. An encompassing worldview needed to include a place to emote. Maybe even to express spirituality. Does the absence of a fantasy deity remove the human capacity for (need for?) spirituality?

I like to explain my experience of spirituality as a sort of super-emotion. It exists in the realm of emotions/feelings, but it's more than just a feeling. It's also a knowing. And this knowing connects me, the individual, to Me, a tiny particle of a vast universe. Or, as Ken Wilber would call it: the Witness (Kosmic Consiousness, 2003).

As humans, it's not enough to see ourselves as rational individuals connected to our surroundings only so often as we physically bump into them. We feel we need more, because we are more. We are spiritual, despite the lack of a deity. To really be human, to understand our Buddha nature, we have to acknowledge that both sides of ourselves, the rational and the emotional, compliment and don't compete with each other.

So, yes, I am an atheist  I don't believe in the Sunday school Father in Heaven of my up-bringing. But I don't stop there. I am more than that. More than just an atheist.