Stop. You don’t know that.
Matthew Parris points out that skeptics can and sometimes should be impassioned about it; for instance, when confronted by nonskeptics who are impassioned about that.
It is the worst who are full of passionate intensity. Look at the evangelical movement in America, and to some extent, now, here. Look at the Religious Right in Israel. Look at fundamentalist Islam. What they share, what drives them, the tiger in their tanks, is an absolute, unshakeable belief in an ever-present divinity, with plans for nations that He communicates to the leaders, or would-be leaders, of nations. They are the very devil, these people, they could wreck our world, and their central belief in God’s plan has to be confronted. Confronted with passion. Confronted because, and on the ground that, it is not true.
Along with the wrecking our world part – very much along with that. It’s seriously irritating to have one’s world wrecked by people who are passionately and immovably convinced of childish bullshit. If you’re going to wreck our world at least do it for a better reason than that!
Disbelief can be passionate. Sometimes it should be. Agnosticism can be passionate. A sense that we lack certitude, lack evidence, lack the external command of any luminous guiding truth, may not always lead to lassitude, complaisance or a modest silence. Sometimes it should provoke a great shout: “Stop. You don’t know that. You have no right.”
Eg-zactly. I’ve been thinking about that lately; writing a few notes about it. That’s because there’s this Center for Inquiry ‘Beyond Belief’ shindig in July, at which I’m supposed to say some words, so I’ve been thinking about what kind of words to say; I’m planning to say words along those lines. I like those lines. ‘Stop. You don’t know that. You have no right.’
Many people of course think they do have the right; many of those people think that it is the unbelievers who have no right. Many people just know – what they don’t and can’t know, but that doesn’t stop them. Many people just know what they don’t and can’t know, and consider people who say ‘You don’t know that’ arrogant and dogmatic. That’s why we need some passion and energy in order to go on explaining that that’s not how it should go.
I hold that each right entails a complementary duty. Those so-called rights that do not might more properly be called privileges. As our friends at mediawatchwatch.uk came close to saying recently, the right to assert bullshit may not be severed from the duty to take the piss. Religion is an appropriate target for satire, both Horatian and Juvenallian.
Later: I’ve just returned from my daily visit to Pharyngula. Do read PZ’s post “We aim to misbehave”.
Thanks, that’s a great one. I’ll ask PZ if I can publish it here.
I note that the “Beyond Belief” seminars include a session on The Immorality of Religious Ethics …
Well, there’s a good start.
Pose it as a question.
Why is it that all (almost all?) religious morality is based on fear and threats?
If you don’t do EXACTLY what “god” (the preists) tell you, you will suffer horribly and go to hell?
Even if what you are doing hurts no-one else, like not worshipping the specific god in the specifically prescribed fashion?
Can I just applaud the “childish bullshit” remark? I don’t know why that filled me with the warm feeling that it did, but it did, so thanks.