Abortion and Moral Equivalence

From Inhabitatio Dei (a great blog I just discovered), Moral Equivalence, War, and Abortion:

I am utterly against the liberal platitudes that would seek to minimize the importance of abortion within our public discourse. But likewise I am utterly against the sort of ethic of innocence that is utilized to establish abortion as an utterly unique instance of horrific violence that trumps all others. What makes forms of violence morally serious cannot depend on the innocence or non-innocence of those who suffer them. What makes violence morally serious is not that it falls on people who are innocent, but that it falls on persons who are human.

As such I get uncomfortable at the way many conservatives seek to elevate the issue of abortion to a pedestal above all other issues of violence and coercion in our culture. To use the seriousness of abortion as a shield against having to think about the moral severity of militarization, torture, and genocide is just as reprehensible as those who use such issues to downplay the seriousness of abortion. John Paul II was correct to include all of these horrors within his indictment of the “culture of death.” Seeking to do some sort of moral algebra within the culture of death to determine which is the “worst” seems like an utterly wrong question.

Read the whole thing.

This is Just Pathetic

Mark Shea:

Yesterday, Googling "Sarah Palin" and "retard" got you 126,000 hits.

As of this post, the same search now gets you 1,090,000 hits. [NB: When I do this search, I get 135,000 hits.]

In light of recent discussions about the connection between violence and disrespect, note that today in America, more than 90% of babies prenatally diagnosed with Down Syndrome are aborted. May God have mercy...

Dark Knight Reviews and Speculations About a Sequel

Here's an interesting review at First Things, which explores many of the same aspects of the film that I did, but in greater depth (minor spoiler warning for this and the next review):

Nolan focuses in The Dark Knight on the “idea of escalation,” the way Batman’s dramatic persona, with its violent heroism, calls forth a greater, more creative response from the criminal element. It would be hard to imagine a more compelling embodiment of the escalation of evil in Gotham than what Nolan and actor Heath Ledger have created in the character of The Joker, whose insouciant embrace of chaos eclipses the malevolence of Hannibal Lecter from Silence of the Lambs and John Doe from Se7en. What makes Nolan’s latest film such a success is not, however, Ledger’s compelling presentation of evil, on which critics have focused their attention, but the way in which he uses that character to bring out the depth and complex goodness of the other characters in the film, including Batman.

Next, John Carney, perhaps taking the films a bit too seriously, asks if Bruce Wayne's business dealings in Batman Begins and The Dark Knight might actually make him that "better class of criminal" the Joker claims to want (HT Peter Chattaway):

He seems to be a white-collar criminal, engaging in the kind of corporate crimes that attract our real-life two-faced prosecutors. He takes corporate resources to pursue his own interests, uses underhanded means to acquire a majority stake in Wayne Enterprises after encouraging an initial public offering, and intimidates a potential whistle-blower.

Finally, since Warner Brothers surely wont be able to pass up a cash-cow of a sequel (since everyone knows the third film in a trilogy is always the best!), check out MTV.com's brief interview with Dark Knight writer David Goyer, who claims he and the Nolan brothers already have a theme and a villain in mind. He's not saying who, but there are plenty of possibilities (but watch out for spoilers if you haven't seen The Dark Knight yet).

Violence and Disrespect

Drew Tatusko has up an interesting post asking “Should Atheists ‘Respect’ Religion?”:

One common answer to the question of respect to religious belief that I have encountered in many an argument is an unqualified No. It is a simple argument with little persuasive rhetoric. Religion should not be respected or even much tolerated due to its track record of human harm and its basis in that which has, in the common parlance of the argument, not one shred of evidence. This seems to be the foundation for the entire whirlwind of extremism regarding the theft of a consecrated Eucharist wafer and the less than hospitable reaction from one PZ Myers.

Drew helpfully discusses the tension between this and Myers’ claimed liberalism, but I’m struck by something else: I find it particularly ironic that the very atheists most eager to accuse religion of leading to violence and oppression, are often the same ones boasting of their freedom to disrespect the views of others. It seems to escape their notice that it is precisely such a disrespect which has often been the direct cause of such violence and oppression in the first place, and this has been true both in religious and atheistic (mostly communist) nations. By engaging in such disrespect, Myers and others like him implicitly undermine one of their central arguments against religion.

Do they have the legal right do disrespect religion? Of course. But many things are and should be legal that are nevertheless a terrible idea.

Islam, Christianity and the Freedom to Insult

This post is based on another from two years ago, originally posted at Signs of the Times:

Amidst the brouhaha over PZ Myers’ claimed intent to publicly desecrate the Eucharist, some have been asking how this incident relates to that surrounding those 12 caricatures of Muhammad published in a Danish newspaper in 2005. Strictly speaking, the two cases are quite different. First of all, As Mike Dunford notes (HT James McGrath), there is a clear difference between merely depicting something offensive in a cartoon, and actually stealing a sacred object in order to desecrate it. But thankfully, Myers has not (yet?) followed through on his threat, so it is possible to interpret his words as no more than an in-your-face challenge to what he perceives as false reverence.

But perhaps the more important difference lies in the respective reactions these two incidents received. While Myers and his supporters might like to treat this as proof that Catholics are just as bad as radical Islam when it comes to taking insults, the facts simply do not support this. As Mike puts it:

In the case of the cartoons, the religious group involved was demanding a great deal from those who do not share their faith. The message that they were sending was, "I believe it is a grave sin to draw or print images of the prophet. Therefore, you must never draw or print such an image." That goes farther than demanding that others respect their belief; it is a demand that everyone constrain their actions because of that belief.

In the case of the Eucharist, the demand is much more modest. All that you need to do to refrain from desecrating the Eucharist is to stay away from Catholic churches. Period. That's it. You could argue, I suppose, that this demand also constrains your actions, but that's a bit of a stretch. After all, "don't go places where you haven't been invited" is (in most circumstances) nothing more or less than basic politeness.

And while a very small handful of angry Catholics have sent hate mail and death threats as a result of the present affair, those cartoons sparked real violence. Riots and attacks, even actual murders, spread across much of the Muslim world, all because someone had the audacity not to share their qualms about depicting Muhammad. However Myers may splutter, nothing even close to that has happened in this case. And no, Bill Donohue’s press releases (over-the-top though they may be) can in no way be compared to the fatwas that were issued for the Danish cartoonists.

All of which has reminded me of one of the more absurd responses to those comics. During the very week before Easter of the year they came out, South Park aired its own reaction to the retreat from free speech which had resulted. In the episode Cartoon Wars Part II, they mock the prohibition of any depiction of Muhammad, by claiming to be about to show the Prophet doing something totally innocuous (handing a “salmon football helmet” to another character), though actually showing a black screen with the words “Comedy Central has refused to broadcast an image of Mohammed on their network.” The show then depicted an immediate reprisal by al Qaeda: A video of George Bush and Jesus (among others) defecating on each other and the American flag. Take that free speech!

It was incredibly crude and sophomoric, so it’s little surprise that it drew the ire of some Christian groups, but once again the difference in reactions was telling. Muhammad was shown in a series of otherwise mild comics, published in an obscure newspaper, and sparked rage across half the Muslim world. Jesus was broadcast on national TV, during Holy Week, in the crudest possible way, and this was met with, what? A couple negative editorials and some hand-wringing?

The difference, no doubt, was largely a result of the fact that contemporary Westerners in general are less apt to rage over religious matters than those in some other parts of the world, but I also think it points to something deeper than the current political realities of blasphemy and free speech. It illuminates the nature of two very different worldviews. Islam teaches that Muhammad was a mere man who was so honored by God as to warrant treatment almost as if he were God. In sharp contrast, Christianity teaches that God himself became man, and willingly embraced treatment as a man.

Therefore, to depict Muhammad doing anything at all is to commit blasphemy, and can lead to violent consequences. Yet Jesus can be shown defecating, and the reaction is and should be quite different. That is because the central claim of Christianity—that God came in the flesh—is already a far greater insult than anything South Park could possibly portray.

As Joshua Anderson once argued in reference to Andres Serrano’s Piss Christ, much of the insult Christians do sense in such “art” actually reflects an overly spiritualized view of Jesus. To drop a crucifix into a jar of blood and urine, to show Jesus “crapping” all over the place, even to threaten to desecrate the Eucharist, these are certainly offensive, but can they really compare to the offense of the crucifixion? In that moment, Christians believe, God himself was executed as a rebel.

The day of the crucifixion is known as Good Friday in the Christian Church, but that should not mask the true insult it's meant to recall: God on a cross. The outrageous claim of Christianity is that in Jesus, God himself took on human flesh—blood, urine, feces and all—and faced our jeering insults with grace. Thus, in shying away from showing Muhammad, while openly mocking Jesus' humanity, South Park expressed something deep and important in the difference between Muslim and Christian worldviews, even if only inadvertently.

Free speech—even PZ Myers'—must include the freedom to insult, for the world is full of evil, and sometimes the only proper response will be offensive. Yet freedom also requires a worldview that is comfortable enough with its own humanity to be mocked. On Good Friday, we are told of a God who affirmed that freedom to his very death; on Easter, we are told of a God who laughed even from the grave.

The Religious Nature of The New Atheism?

I’m a couple weeks late on this, but I just discovered this wide-ranging critique of the new atheism by John Gray (HT: David Keen). I'm exceptionally busy at the moment, so I'll just say that I think the article includes some good insights but it’s far from perfect. You can decide for yourselves; here are some excerpts:

For Dawkins and Hitchens, Daniel Dennett and Martin Amis, Michel Onfray, Philip Pullman and others, religion in general is a poison that has fuelled violence and oppression throughout history, right up to the present day. The urgency with which they produce their anti-religious polemics suggests that a change has occurred as significant as the rise of terrorism: the tide of secularisation has turned. These writers come from a generation schooled to think of religion as a throwback to an earlier stage of human development, which is bound to dwindle away as knowledge continues to increase. In the 19th century, when the scientific and industrial revolutions were changing society very quickly, this may not have been an unreasonable assumption. Dawkins, Hitchens and the rest may still believe that, over the long run, the advance of science will drive religion to the margins of human life, but this is now an article of faith rather than a theory based on evidence....

The growth of knowledge is a fact only postmodern relativists deny. Science is the best tool we have for forming reliable beliefs about the world, but it does not differ from religion by revealing a bare truth that religions veil in dreams. Both science and religion are systems of symbols that serve human needs - in the case of science, for prediction and control. Religions have served many purposes, but at bottom they answer to a need for meaning that is met by myth rather than explanation. A great deal of modern thought consists of secular myths - hollowed-out religious narratives translated into pseudo-science....

Belief in progress is a relic of the Christian view of history as a universal narrative, and an intellectually rigorous atheism would start by questioning it. This is what Nietzsche did when he developed his critique of Christianity in the late 19th century, but almost none of today's secular missionaries have followed his example. One need not be a great fan of Nietzsche to wonder why this is so. The reason, no doubt, is that he did not assume any connection between atheism and liberal values - on the contrary, he viewed liberal values as an offspring of Christianity and condemned them partly for that reason. In contrast, evangelical atheists have positioned themselves as defenders of liberal freedoms - rarely inquiring where these freedoms have come from, and never allowing that religion may have had a part in creating them....

The attempt to eradicate religion, however, only leads to it reappearing in grotesque and degraded forms. A credulous belief in world revolution, universal democracy or the occult powers of mobile phones is more offensive to reason than the mysteries of religion, and less likely to survive in years to come. Victorian poet Matthew Arnold wrote of believers being left bereft as the tide of faith ebbs away. Today secular faith is ebbing, and it is the apostles of unbelief who are left stranded on the beach.

Lose Your Faith

Kim Fabricius posted an intriguing Holy Week sermon here (HT: Sean the Baptist and Exploring our Matrix). Here’s an excerpt, but read the whole thing:

This sermon doesn’t have three points, it’s got three words: Lose your faith! (I warned you I would be sacrilegious.) Yes, lose your faith. Lose your faith in God. For as the French mystic Simone Weil insisted, there is a kind of atheism that is purifying, cleansing us of idols. Lose your faith in the god that the cross exposes as a no-god, a sham god. Lose your faith in the god who is but the product of your projections, fantasies, wishes, and needs, a security blanket or good-luck charm god. Lose your faith in the god who is there to hold your hand, solve your problems, rescue you from your trials and tribulations, the deus ex machina, literally the “machine god”, wheeled out onto the stage in ancient Greek drama, introduced to the plot artificially to resolve its complications and secure a happy ending. Lose your faith in the god who confers upon you a privileged status that is safe and secure. Lose your faith in the god who promises you health, wealth, fulfilment, and success, who pulls rabbits out of hats. Lose your faith in the god with whom your conscience can be at ease with itself. Lose your faith in the god who, in Dennis Potter’s words, is the bandage, not the wound. Lose your faith in the god who always answers when you pray and comes when you call. Lose your faith in the god who is never hidden, absent, dead, entombed. For the “Father who art in heaven” – this week he is to be found in hell – with his Son....

But hang on, Kim, frankly you’ve lost us. We don’t know what you’re talking about, but whatever it is, it sounds crazy, foolish. You’ve accomplished the remarkable achievement of making someone like Rowan Williams sound lucid, simple, straightforward. And you’re supposed to be a preacher, and isn’t the whole point of the sermon to make it easier to understand God, to increase our faith, so that we can go back to the world feeling edified, uplifted, and ready to share the Good News? Not today it’s not. Today I can’t help you. This week no one can help you. Come Friday, not even God – especially not God – can help you. And come Saturday, God himself is lying in a tomb. Emptiness. Zero. Nothing. But might it be a pregnant emptiness, a significant zero, a silent nothing that yet says everything? (after Alan E. Lewis). We shall have to wait till Easter. Only then shall we learn that this Week is Holy, and its Friday Good. Only then may we just find a new faith rising from the old faith that I pray you will lose today.

Beliefnet Interview on the Religion in BSG

I just discovered this interview with Ron Moore (producer of Battlestar Galactica) on the religious component to the show (HT: Greenflame). If you're a fan, the whole thing is worth reading; here's an excerpt:

Do your own religious views shape the story lines?

I'm an Irish Catholic, not practicing. It probably just reflects my interest in my movement from Catholicism to atheism to agnosticism to interest in Eastern religions. I think the show is a reflection of my acknowledgement that faith and religion are a part of the human experience, even if I'm not quite clear on exactly what it all means and what I truly believe. The most direct reflection of me in the show is this idea that when the Cylons became self-aware, when they became sentient, when they became people, they began to ask themselves the existential questions: "Why am I here? What is this all about? Is this all that I am? Is there something more?"

My view is that that's fundamental to a thinking person. And that inevitably leads you to questions of faith and religion and "what will happen to me when I die?"

Funny how he still calls himself a non-practicing Catholic, even when he has since moved "to atheism to agnosticism to interest in Eastern religions...."

DUNE - The Dark Side of Hope and Sacrifice

This week I picked up a used copy of Frank Herbert’s classic novel DUNE for 50 cents at a library sale. I hadn’t read the book – first in an epic science fiction trilogy – since Junior High, and it quickly sucked me in. It’s set in the far future, when humans have scattered across the universe and are ruled by a new aristocracy. Great Houses govern billions across numerous worlds, war amongst themselves, and live in fear of the Emperor’s cruel army of Sardaukar.

The story centers on a boy named Paul Atreides, son of Duke Leto Atreides, whose noble family has ruled on the paradise world of Caladan, but is now forced to move to a desert world called Arrakis, or Dune. Arrakis is a brutal and seemingly desolate planet, but it is vital to the empire as the only source of the mind-altering “spice” melange. Consumption of this spice can grant a person extended perception, even glimpses of the future. Such prescience is valued for many reasons, but especially because it enables faster than light space travel (how it does so is never explained, but such is tangential to the story anyway).

DUNE is an engaging science fiction adventure filled with political intrigue, betrayal, murder and war as the evil Baron Vladimir Harkonnen seeks to destroy the Atreides, and nearly succeeds. Vastly outnumbered by Harkonnen troops backed by disguised Sardaukar, the Duke and most of his people are killed, while only Paul and a handful of others escape into the desert. Taking up with the natives of Arrakis (a fierce people known as Fremen), Paul and his mother plot to restore their House and, if possible, revenge themselves on the Harkonnens, but quickly find themselves in the midst of a religious crusade.

The story is imaginative and richly detailed – Arthur C. Clark considered the depth of its world and characters as comparable only to Lord of the Rings – but what truly sets it apart is its religious component. DUNE is, at heart, an exploration of the nature of religion. Jessica is a member of the secretive Bene Gesserit Order whose power extends all the way to the Emperor himself. For thousands of years, this religious enclave has been sending missionaries to plant “prophecies” amongst the populations of human worlds, preparing the way for a Messiah, a Kwisatz Haderach who would bridge both time and space, and through whom they might control the universe. In pursuit of this goal, the Bene Gesserit have pursued an aggressive breeding program, carefully guiding specific genetic lines – Atreides and Harkonnen included – to produce their Savior.

The Fremen too have been touched by these missionaries, inculcated with prophecies of a Messiah who would transform their desert into paradise. But not even the Bene Gesserit could anticipate how closely Paul’s coming would match their prophecies, yet how thoroughly he could upend their hopes. Paul is the Kwisatz Haderach, but he will not be controlled by the Bene Gesserit; indeed, he’s not even sure he can control his own destiny. As he rises to prominence amongst the Fremen, he is tormented by visions of wild jihad, and seems unable to avoid such a future. In the end, DUNE becomes a story not so much of betrayal and restoration, but of the potential and danger of mounting religious fervor.

I find it interesting comparing my reactions to the book now with those when I read it as a teenager. Back in my fundamentalist days, Paul was the clear hero – a true Christ figure facing and defeating the wicked Harkonens. The only thing I recall disliking about the book was the fact that polygamy was considered acceptable by the central characters. In fact, I was so put off by this that I never bothered reading the rest of the trilogy. Reading the book now, I find the Harkonnens just as evil as I remember, but Paul appears a much more ambiguous figure. Noble at heart, he steadily succumbs to his “terrible purpose,” regaining his former position (and more) only at great cost. He may be the Fremen Messiah, but he seems to have lost an important part of his humanity in becoming so.

Thus, DUNE is a tale of fulfilled prophecy, with echoes of the Christian story, but it also explores the dark side of faith – religious extremism and violence, and the way these things can both unite and divide a community. I have often written about hope and sacrifice, but DUNE presents a new side of those realities. Here we see what can happen when hope for a better future becomes a justification for evil in the present, and how a would-be savior can sacrifice more than just himself for a dubious cause. Perhaps its time I finally finish Herbert’s trilogy.

Glamorized Magic and Harry Potter

I finally convinced my wife to watch one of the Harry Potter films this week. She enjoyed it more than she expected, but remained concerned that these are marketed to children. Echoing a common Christian objection to the series, she asked: What if, by glamorizing magic, it leads kids to the occult? As adults, she admitted, we can see that this is fantasy, but kids are impressionable. I pointed out that the magic in Harry Potter bears no relation to any kind of real-world sorcery (no gods or demons are invoked or manipulated; they merely wave wands around and speak in Latin!). Then it occurred to me: If a movie’s effect on kids is truly one’s concern, Harry Potter ought to be much further down the list than it usually is.

If kids really are liable to copy what they see in their favorite films, shouldn’t we be much less concerned about magic, and much more concerned about glamorized violence? After all, a kid can practice waving a stick around all week and he’s not going to do any harm, but how many times does he need to see his heroes solve their problems by beating up or killing “bad guys,” before he considers trying that? If, on the other hand, a story can legitimately employ violence as a metaphor for the battle between good and evil, why cannot fictionalized magic be used in the same way?

Surely I’m not the first to have thought of this.