BCA vs Singh update

On the offchance any of my readers do not also read the great bloggings of my friend Jack of Kent, I recommend that you take a gander at his new update on the preliminary hearing of the libel case brought against Simon Singh by the British Chiropractic Association (to be found here).

I have nothing to add, except in echoing Jack's sentiment that this is an astonishing, bizarre and horrendously illiberal ruling.

Two apologies, and a follow-up

The first apology is for the past month - not only has it been a hectic and internetless move to the new flat, but calamity and illness have also meant that I've been far from being in the right frame of mind to write here. The second apology is for the future, because I don't know how often I'm going to be able to post over the next month or two. The internet connection is hardly forthcoming, and the precious hours I'm able to squeeze out of the wi-fi access at the pub are being consumed simply by trying to stay up-to-date and in contact with my friends. So, I apologise.

You might be interested to know that there have been a great many reasons to believe that the rune casting I made a month ago has proven to be true - certainly the move was made, and I even went down to Southampton for a very brief visit to bring more of my belongings up to the flat. This would definitely justify the presence of the "Raido" journeying rune. The "Algiz" sanctuary rune is similarly easy to explain through the new flat, as it is definitely starting to feel like a home and safe haven. The reversed "Dagaz" night rune, which apparently can serve as a warning of plans going awry, can also be seen to have come true. Let's just say the move has not been without problems.

So a clean sweep with my first cast. Not bad going. It's definitely illustrating for me how people can easily believe in the power of these things, particularly when the interpretation is so vague and malleable.

I hope I'll be able to post a little more often now that things are starting to straighten out at home. I'll definitely be back when the internet manages to make its glittering and wondrous way into our abode. Perhaps the next entry will be another rune casting. Whenever and whatever that next post is, I'll see you then.

Premonitions

Today's entry is about the future.

Firstly, because I need to warn you that the blog might be a little quiet over the next few weeks as I move to a new flat with the very special feature of Uncertain Internets. Got a few ideas in the pipeline, though, so hopefully I'll be able to get online enough to keep this blog up and running.

Secondly, it strikes me that this is an ideal time to introduce a new regular feature here, tying into my status as a pagan atheist. You may or may not know that the Northern European mythologies, with which I most closely relate, contain a system of auguries involving runes. These work in much the same way as the more popular tarot cards, with a number of symbols standing for various ideas.

What I thought I'd do is something of an experiment, in no way scientific, into the practice of using these runes to read my "fortune". After setting up the rules (the method of taking a reading, the meanings of each rune, and any restrictions on interpretation), I'll try to take regular-ish readings and then see how true they turn out to be. So, on with it.

Right from the outset, let me make this clear: this is not a test of the ability of rune-casting to predict the future or disclose facts about the past. The sole purpose of this little exercise is basically to just get an insight into how these readings can be interpreted to fit a normal life with normal events, without the intervention of a cold reader or medium.

My method will be simple: when making a cast, I will shake all the runes in my cupped hands, and carefully let three fall at random, without seeing which they are. Those will be my reading, and the rest put aside for the time being. If a rune lands facing up, its standard meaning will hold sway; if it is face down, I will interpret that as a reversed meaning - for instance, if Eihwaz lands facing up, it means safety; if facing down, it means danger or vulnerability.

Here's a basic list of the runes and their primary meanings. Fehu: wealth. Uraz: strength. Thurisaz: chaos. Ansuz: wisdom. Raido: journey. Kaunaz: fire. Gebo: gift. Wunjo: joy. Hagalaz: disruption. Nauthiz: need. Isa: standstill. Jera: success. Eihwaz: safety. Pertho: future. Algiz: sanctuary. Sowulo: sun. Teiwaz: victory. Berkana: life. Ehwaz: horse. Mannaz: man. Laguz: water. Inguz: fertility. Othila: inheritance. Dagaz: day. Blank: destiny.

So right away we see that runes are representative of some very vague and open-to-interpretation notions. Virtually any reading could probably be twisted to fit the complexities of a normal life. But let's not allow that to dissuade us! This should be fun. So here's the first cast:

Raido. Algiz. A reversed Dagaz.

So a journey, sanctuary, and something that probably represents night. I'd call that a pretty great hit for a first cast - we're moving (or "journeying") to a new flat (or "sanctuary") after all. Not sure what the night part represents, though. I'm led to understand that "day" carries along with it implications of certainty and optimism - as in, daylight is the time to get things done. Is it telling me that this is not the right time for a journey to our new sanctuary? Or is it reflecting our feelings of insecurity about the enterprise? Or perhaps it's referring the the lack of security in my partner's job right now. Hmmmm.

Well this might turn into a regular feature, it might not. Either way, it's always interesting to think about why these methods of prediction and fate-reading are so popular, and why they seem to work so well a lot of the time. As I said, I'm not going to change my mind on this - I don't believe that the rocks I drop with scratches in can tell me what's going to happen next week. It's just something I'm using to gain and share some insight into the interpretation process. I hope you enjoy and value it as much as I do.

A symbol too far?

Just a quick thought today, prompted by the news that over 100,000 people in Britain are seeking to reverse their childhood baptism/christening [via AFP]. I sympathise with them, though I myself was never put through such a farcical abusive ceremony (thanks mum!) - but I can't help but think that by doing this they are imbuing the ceremonies with far more meaning than they deserve.

If I'm right in thinking that these people want to be de-baptised because they have discovered the enormous unlikeliness of the Christian teachings and would prefer to live their lives as rational beings, then why do they care so much that some old chap mumbled some mumbo-jumbo over them and splashed their foreheads with water when they were kids? Surely their seeking of this piece of paper is demonstrative of their belief that the whole ceremony is completely meaningless. The piece of paper is also meaningless, so why seek it out and pay cash money for it? Why do you care?

I fully support the National Secular Society, and if you're going to donate money to an organisation and haven't decided which yet, you could do worse than consider them in your shortlist. But I don't approve of them selling something which is entirely meaningless. I thought they were against that sort of business.

In an entirely unrelated topic, I will soon be opening up a service for anyone who wants to be declared "Nice". If you, as a child, were told by a parent or other authoritative adult (perhaps in a costume) that you were on Santa's "Naughty List", send me the small sum of £3 and I'll happily print you off a piece of paper reversing your status as "Naughty" and declaring you "Nice" - for all the world to see.

Fictional Sceptics #6: Star Trek (part 2)

In my previous entry on the matter, I discussed how (early) Star Trek acted as a kind of utopian vision for secular humanism. I also showed that, despite how dated it can seem at times, it was always a highly progressive series - particularly in terms of race and gender equality.

This time, I want to examine the numinous aspects of Star Trek - that is to say, the ways in which it preserved the sense of wonder to an almost spiritual level while remaining secular. It is closely linked to the spirit of scientific discovery, and the kind of excitement exemplified by the likes of Carl Sagan in his Cosmos series, and Phil Plait at a new development or line of research. It is an important aspect of science and scepticism which religious people often claim cannot be found outside of supernatural belief systems.

There are dozens of examples I could use to illustrate this point; it seemed that every other episode of The Next Generation involved the crew investigating, researching or just sightseeing at some interesting nebula, supernova or what have you; sometimes it was the premise of the show, sometimes it was an incidental detail along the way - but it always managed to express that they were explorers and scientists first, experiencing the wonder of the galaxy first-hand.

The particular example I want to use today, however, is a little more complex. Those of you who read my footnote on the post-Roddenberry Star Trek in my previous post will know that I noted a drop in secular humanism as a theme after Gene Roddenberry's departure. What I'd like to add to that is that subsequent series did seem to be more morally complex than TOS and TNG, and, while they were more accommodating to religion, they rarely - if ever - attributed to it powers that it does not and could not possess.

The case of the Prophets of Bajor is a particularly interesting case. Here we have a hugely pervasive religion with a tremendous amount of power over its followers - and incidentally a vehicle through which the series can explore themes relevant to scepticism and religion. The interesting thing is that their "prophets" - spirits or gods, essentially - are real. That is, they are actual beings who reside within the stable wormhole proximate to Bajor.

It is interesting to note the contrast in reactions between the Starfleet personnel and the Bajoran clergy (for want of a better term) to the scientific discoveries made in the wormhole. Both are awestruck, but that's where the similarities end. The officers, Sisko in particular, are desperate to know more about the wormhole and the beings that reside within in it - from what little they already know, the wormhole is stable because it was constructed by the aliens, and the aliens themselves do not experience a "linear existence" as we do, and thus have no concept of time. The Bajorans remain steadfast in their dogma, though at first it seems that the two can coexist - the spiritual definition of the prophets, and the scientific explanation of them.

But when a religious controversy springs up about the teaching of science in school, the tensions become clear. The question is asked as to why the station's single school is teaching only about the science of the wormhole and not the spiritual dimensions acknowledged by the Bajorans (a majority of the students, it should be noted). The teacher is adamant that only the science will be taught, and that the school is not a suitable place for spiritual instruction. It's a great parallel to the evolution/creationism debate.

But to get back to my point, at no time does it seem that there is less wonder and beauty to be found through the scientific perspective as opposed to the religious one. Indeed, it seems as if the religious people, having caught a glimpse of the truth, immediately shut their eyes so as to preserve that glimmer of wonder, and, having instilled it with all their hopes and expanded it with their imaginations, are unwilling to then open their eyes and see the truth of the wonders - which is no less amazing.

The best thing about post-Roddenberry Star Trek is that it becomes more complex in terms of morality and personalities, and therefore far more relevant to the real world. It is no longer a Utopia, but perhaps more of a realistic cultural extrapolation of where humanity might find itself a few centuries from now.

Hampshire: The Report

Firstly, if you've not read my earlier post on the subject of creationism-in-schools advice being given to Hampshire County Council, go ahead and read up. I'll still be here when you get back. All done? Good.

I have located a copy of the report I mentioned. It can be found here:

"Teaching About Creationism and Evolution in Schools"

It begins in a reasonable fashion - and in fact continues likewise until the section vaguely headed "Evaluate". Up until this point, I've not had a major problem with anything said, and in fact it sounds like a decent attempt at providing support for conducting a debate on this matter. After that point, however, it all gets a bit Disco.

For instance, it is quite insistent on the difference between creationism and intelligent design, and actually uses the words "the scientific theory of intelligent design". This is horrifically misleading, disingenuous and false. Intelligent design is not a scientific theory; it is barely an hypothesis (which, incidentally, is the word they use earlier in the report - consistency please?). Almost as bad is their use of the word "scholar" to describe such unthinking dogmatists as Behe and Minnich

What is also telling is that, despite the fact that the language being used seems to be pluralist, it is clear that the report is centered on a Christian worldview. Creationism is defined as "typically" conforming to Genesis and the Bible, whereas "Intelligent Design" apparently doesn't. There is no mention (except through the most vague implication) that other faiths involve a creation myth. I know we're nominally a Christian nation, but our non-faith schools are generally meant to be cosmopolitan in this regard.

There are numerous other reasons I dislike this report, including its quoting of William Bloody Paley and not the counter-argument from Dawkins et al; but the main question I wanted answered was: where is this debate intended to take place? In the science class, or in religious education?

I was disappointed. There was nothing there to suggest that this was being proposed as a discussion to have in a particular setting or context. It could well be that this report itself has a context of which I am unaware, and the text toward to top of the report was sufficiently indecipherable to allow that perhaps that information is contained within that section; but if this is not the case, and the debate is being offered regardless of context, then I have to conclude that the news items surrounding this report are misleading.

That is not to say that there is nothing to worry about. This report is indicative of a greatly disturbing trend in our education system: there is no doubt in my mind that this report was compiled by a creationist and that the intent behind it is to push discussion of intelligent design into places it does not belong. That being said, however, there are a few questions that still need to be asked:

1. Where are these discussions intended to take place?
2. Are they trying to get intelligent design discussed as a scientific theory?
3. How seriously is this report being taken?
4. Are there advisory bodies in opposition to, and on the same level as, SACRE (Standing Advisory Council on Religious Education) that are pushing the scientific, secularist viewpoint?

I'm going to do my best to get answers to these questions, but until then I must conclude that the report is deeply worrying, but not as bad as it could be. Intelligent design is still not a part of the science curriculum, and this report doesn't suggest that it should be.

Hampshire = Kansas? Not yet.

Being a Hampshire lad by birth, I was somewhat perturbed by the news that Hampshire schools are getting "advice" on creationism. Now, don't get me wrong, there's nothing inherently wrong with that fact - but it's the kind of phrase that sets off alarm bells.

The worry is that it's a "foot in the door" scenario which could lead to creationism* being taught in the classroom alongside science, and being given equal credence. Of course, this need not necessarily be the case here: at the moment the language being used to refer to this move is stressing advice rather than curriculum.

It is important that teachers know how to respond to inquiries from students about the relationship between creationism and evolution, and therefore an "advice package" seems like a jolly good idea. Exactly how good an idea it is, though, depends solely on the content of the report. I have written to Hampshire County Council asking them for a copy of the report, after having no luck searching online (there seems to be a direct link on the RichardDawkins.net forum, but at the time of writing this there's a quite serious problem with the website).

So until I find out what is actually advised, I'd like to take a moment to think about what I'd like it to say. Ideally, as far as the science classroom is concerned, I think the advice should be simply about how to deal with pupils' questions, and not how to raise the subject itself outside of that context. Creationism has no place in the science class. But that does not mean that pupils' questions on the subject should be ignored or simply rebuffed. It is important that they are informed about why creationism is not science, and why it is not appropriate to discuss metaphysics in the science classroom. Also, I have no problem with creationism - and its relationship with science - being discussed in religious education classes; that's where it belongs.

What I am afraid of is that this is not the tone that has been taken by the report; that, instead, it advises that it is entirely appropriate and even necessary to discuss creationism as a rival theory to evolution and the big bang. This is the area in which the creationists have been gaining most ground: in simply muddying the waters. The real problem will be that introducing guidelines for talking about religion in the science classroom will confuse rather than inform.

I'm all for getting pupils to discuss these issues, but everything that is done in the context of a science lesson should be science. Metaphysics should be checked at the door; it has no place in that setting.

* I use the word creationism as synonymous with so-called "intelligent design theory" because I hope that by this point nobody has any illusions. They are one and the same.

Antidisestablishmentarianism: a Comparison

Yes, part of the reason for this entry is that it is a legitimate excuse to use that word, much the same as happened with my A-Level Politics coursework. But at the same time, it's also a very interesting subject, particularly when taken comparatively. Some of the issues I want to address here are: the prominence of the issue of the separation of church and state in the United States and United Kingdom; the reason for those different levels of prominence; and any implications there might be for the two societies. No doubt the discussion will range more widely, but that's the basic structure I have in mind. So let's begin.

I suppose the best place to start with this issue, as with most, is to define it. The separation of church and state is the phrase used to describe either the distance that organised religion keeps from the apparatus and activity of state politics, or the official, constitutional provisions for that distance. In short, it can refer to the rules, or to the reality. The U.S. and the U.K. have very different situations in both cases, and those differences are the subject of this entry.

Firstly, then, let's look at the prominence of the issue - how high up is it in terms of public concern/awareness? Well, in the U.S., there are few more visible issues than the separation of church and state, with strong advocacy groups on the matter and implications for such diverse issues as prayer in schools, "In God We Trust" on the currency, and even gay rights. In the U.K., meanwhile, the issue is hardly on the radar at all; certainly there are similar issues with gay rights, creationism in the classroom, and various others, but rarely do discussions on these matters make mention of the established nature of the Church of England. It doesn't seem to affect either legislation on, or public opinion of, the major issues.

So what is the formal position of religion in each of these nations? In the United States, there is a clear clause in the Constitution (Amendment I, concerning freedom of expression) prohibiting the establishment of religion by the state. What does this mean? Well, a fairly good example is the situation in the United Kingdom, as it happens: we have what is called an "established" Church here, the Anglican Church or Church of England. This means that not only is their brand of protestantism the official state religion (the monarch is still required to be a member of that religion because he or she is the nominal head of the Church), but also that members of that Church have seats in our national legislature.

Without going into great and tedious detail, the House of Lords is the upper house of the British Parliament, but has less legislative power than the House of Commons. It is also the highest court in the country. Among its 743 members, there are 26 bishops of the Church of England, known as the Lords Spiritual. It is hardly contentious to suggest that the presence of such figures in the legislature of the United States would be controversial and hugely unconstitutional.

So why is there no such uproar here? Well, the right answer (to the extent that there is one) is of course terribly complex and most likely involves matters of social history, and the complex interplay of power between the state, the church, and the people. But at least a part of the reason is simply that we don't have a constitution; there is no hallowed sacred document to which we can refer to determine if a certain practice or state of affairs is "allowed" by the rules upon which our nation was founded. Because, when you get right down to it, it's hard to say exactly how or when - or even if - that happened. Certainly there have been a slew of treaties (the latest coming as late as 1927), but there has never been a document drawn up to compare significantly with the strict and explicit terms of the U.S. Constitution.

It is strange to note how reversed the situation seems to be between the U.S. and the U.K.; one might expect the country with overt religious influence in the legislature to be the one that experiences a great deal of religious influence on legislation. But rather, it is the nation with explicit prohibition of religious influence on the legislature that is the arena for so much religious lobbying and debate. So on the one side of the Atlantic we have a secular government and a predominantly religious society, and on the other we have a nominally religious government and a - for all intents and purposes - secular society. Is it a case of causation, or correlation?

The answer is, of course, complicated. I am tempted to argue that it is a combination of the two on both sides of the ocean, but in the States it seems to be more causation than correlation, and in Britain more correlation than causation. I don't think it would be too controversial to suggest that the majority of British subjects are generally of an apathetic disposition with regards to religious matters; even the few who do attend church seem to be, for the most part, relatively liberal. Equally uncontroversial to me would be the suggestion that the U.S. was settled predominantly by religious persons, many fleeing persecution. For one reason or another, religion has persisted in a much stronger way in the U.S. than in Britain.

Now this is just speculation, but it seems to me reasonable to suggest that the current state of affairs, with religious lobbyists jostling and campaigning ceaselessly to crowbar some small modicum of their faith into the affairs of state, could have its genesis in the very constitutional measures designed to thwart them. Imposing secularism upon a strongly religious society could quite conceivably lead to strong resentment and this very kind of campaigning. Now, I'm not saying that the constitution is the only reason for the current state of affairs, or even that this is a worse situation than exists in Britain. Indeed, I think that the U.S. constitution is the only thing standing in the way of the country becoming an overtly religious one at the governmental level.

I can't purport to know the reasons why Britain is, broadly speaking, a secular society. Perhaps it is partly because of the establishment of religion; perhaps it has instilled in the religious groups a kind of complacency. But I doubt that this is the case. The fact of the matter is that in Britain, the Church enjoys far greater official power than religious groups in the U.S., but far less public support. As far as creating secular legislation is concerned, ultimately, having a secular society is more important than having a secular government.

The Power of Metaphor, or, Don't Blame Santa

Before I begin, I ought to warn you that there is no real conclusion or argument to be found in this entry; it is rather intended as a collection of musings hoped to inform but primarily provoke further thought. Most of what is contained herein is part of an ongoing internal discussion I'm holding with myself, and this forms something of an update as to the point that that debate has reached. So open your mind, and read on.

I have made mention before of my status as a pagan atheist. It's not just an incidental matter for me, either; while I don't believe the Gods or spirits are actual entities capable of any kind of interaction with this world, I believe they are powerful and practically useful metaphors for a great deal of human life. The Gods we choose for ourselves - if choose them we do - represent those principles which are most important to us. For this reason I tend more toward the Northern European pantheon, in particular the Norse Gods. If I had a Sabbath like the Christian Sunday or Jewish Friday, it would be Wednesday, named for Odin, a.k.a. Woden (Woden's Daeg -> Wednesday) - for he is the figure with whom I most identify.

He is the symbol for wisdom, courage, and honour - among many other things. He is also seen as the guardian of travellers, much as the Christian Saint Christopher. All of these themes are ones which ring true with me: I aspire to be wise, courageous and honourable above all else; I can think of no qualities I would rather possess. There is also an emphasis on respect and reverence for nature in the Northern European religions, which it won't surprise you to find has particular resonance with me.

So why, you might ask, don't I just identify with those qualities directly instead of expressing them through the language of mythology and religious faith? It is a good question, and one which I have asked myself on many an occasion. I think the answer, as far as I can fathom it, lies in what I refer to as the "power of metaphor"; that is, the linguistic and emotional force that can be expressed only in terms of phenomena that transcend the physical, evidential world. Humanity is known for being a fickle race, and a claimed devotion to an abstract concept such as justice seems to hold less force, somehow, than a claimed devotion to a deity personifying that concept. It is an appeal to the eternal nature of these ideals as opposed to the sometimes-fleeting nature of humanity's adherence to them.

Another example of this that I recently found out about (thanks to my friend the Nietzschean feminist) is Laveyan satanism, which again is essentially an atheist religion. The ideals it favours are individualism, a realistic approach to humanity's darker impulses and an acceptance of these drives as an inevitable an essential component of understanding what it is to be human. There is also a strong element of anarchism, a rebelliousness and hostility toward authority that is reflected in few other mythologies. But it is atheist - and specifically non-Christian, a claim which cannot be made by theistic Satanism - because it entails a commitment to these ideals only, not a belief in a literal Satan or lesser demons. There is much in LaVeyan Satanism which rings true with me and values which are shared by the pagan faith.

On a tangentally-related topic, I also want to address the topic of Santa Claus - not as a metaphor, but as a belief tantamount to religion but treated as a socially-acceptable falsehood. This line of thought comes from listening to my backlog of Point of Inquiry podcasts, specifically the interview with Todd C. Riniolo. He noted an objection to the widely-used argument in sceptical circles that it is little wonder that people are credulous in adulthood when they are raised to believe in Santa Claus as children. It is rarely used as a forceful argument, usually instead forming a arbitrary comment; but nonetheless is worth addressing. Riniolo's objection is that there is simply no proof that belief in Santa during childhood leads to credulity in adulthood. Indeed, he argues, the "debunking" of Santa constitutes many a child's first truly sceptical activity.

I thought this was a very interesting point, and it contributed to an ongoing internal debate I've been conducting with regards to how best to raise a child in the sceptical mindset. It hasn't helped me make up my mind on the subject, but has made a significant contribution to the complexity of the issue. Is it wrong to lie to one's children in this regard, or is it a valuable experience that teaches them that deception (harmless or otherwise) is everywhere and that nobody is to be trusted implicitly? On a personal note, I think I "grew out of" notions like God and spiritualism around the same time as I did the notion of Santa. I don't recall being annoyed at the deception, either; at some point it just became a childish absurdity and I scoffed at my parents for persisting in the charade.

So would it be better or worse to deny one's child this experience? Should we rather explain as best we can the lessons that would be learned through it, rather than perpetuate the white lies? At the very least, it seems that the lies do less harm than one might think.