A New YouTube Channel

I have just started a new YouTube channel, http://www.youtube.com/darwinandthebible. On this channel, Charles Darwin goes through the Bible and comments on it. I did not want to clutter up my science-based YouTube channel (http://www.youtube.com/StanEvolve) with religion, so I created this new channel.

The purpose of the new Youtube channel is to explore what we can learn from the Bible not by reading it as a devotional, the way conventional religious people do, or by attacking it, as anti-religious people often do. The Bible is a collection of books in which many people over the course of a millennium have struggled with the big issues (where did we come from, where are we going, what are we doing here, and why do bad things happen). They came up with many different answers (thus contradicting one another). But maybe we can have our own minds challenged by the stories they came up with to express their thoughts.

So if this sounds interesting to you, check it out. I expect that some of the things you will see on the darwinandthebible channel will be ideas, some of them possibly outrageous, that you have probably not heard before. Among the topics already posted:

1. The Bible is not a book. It is a collection of contradictory books written over a millennium. The Bible contains no list of books that are supposed to be in the Bible.
2. Genesis 1 is not a history of the Earth, either correct or incorrect, but a portrait of "creation."
3. You can think of Genesis 1 as a song in the style of Rodgers and Hammerstein.
4. You can even think of Genesis 1 as a description of life colonizing a volcanic island. I realize that this interpretation is wrong, but hey, it works as well as other interpretations, and better than most.

See you there. Or, I'll just keep seeing you here.

Fundamentalists Equate Fossil Fuel Use with Godliness

If anyone needs yet another example of how religious zeal can lead to intellectual blindness, I here provide one. This example comes from Bryan Fischer and the American Family Association. I am not saying that Fischer is stupid, but simply that his zeal has blinded his presumably latent ability to reason. Nor am I saying that all religion leads to such blindness. However, among American fundamentalists, such blinding zeal is very common. I wish I could say that Fischer’s viewpoint was as singular and ignorable as are those of the geocentrists, but I fear that this is not the case.

Fischer said that fossil fuels are a gift from God, and that by not using these gifts, we are insulting God. Therefore the development of alternative energy systems is an insult to God, in Fischer’s view. Fischer equates those of us who support a transition away from fossil fuel dependence to the “evil servant” whose master gave him some money and he buried it. See the full story here.

So, all of you who try to conserve energy: Prepare for Hell!

Where does one begin to analyze the absurdity of his viewpoint? First, if you believe in God, would you not also say that sunshine and wind and biomass are also gifts from God? Second, there is utterly no chance that we will stop using fossil fuels. Third, it is no insult to whatever God there may be if we use his gift wisely and frugally, rather than wastefully. Suppose I were to give a large sum of money to my daughter. She would accept it, and then use it wisely. That’s the kind of person she is. But I would be disappointed in her if she blew all the money on brief pleasures. Fischer seems to think that God wants us to use all of God’s gifts in an orgiastic fashion. But apparently this does not include such gifts as sexuality and wine.

This should all be perfectly obvious to religious people, even those who do not have a particularly well developed sense of stewardship of God’s good green Earth. But Fischer’s version of religion, which is widespread and infectious, blinds its adherents to even religious reason.

Religion is as powerful as any recreational drug and should be used, if at all, cautiously.

This essay appeared recently on my evolution blog.

Bryan Fischer also participates in a Friday morning comedy segment for American Family Radio. I therefore wondered if his statements were meant as a joke. I emailed him, and he confirmed to me directly that he was serious about what he said.

An Altruistic Taliban?

It’s enough to tickle the cockles of your heart. How genuinely sweet.

A while back, a Pakistani school girl, Malala Yousafzai was shot in the head by members of the Taliban. She has recovered from the attack enough that she addressed the United Nations on her sixteenth birthday, which was July 12. She continued the same message that she had been proclaiming before the attack: that everyone, including girls, deserves educational opportunities, and that the Taliban should stop being afraid of education.

Then today, July 17, a Taliban official, Adnan Rashid, released an open letter to Malala Yousafzai. He did not apologize for shooting her, of course; how could anyone who has a direct connection to the mind of God ever have to apologize for anything? But he said he was shocked at the shooting and wished that it had never happened. He claimed that the Taliban welcomes education, and he invited her to come back to Pakistan (perhaps so that they could have another try at her). He wrote to her, “I was thinking how to approach you. My emotions were brotherly for you because we belong to same Yousafzai tribe.” The sweetness that exudes from his message is enough to make you cry. I suppose that if Rashid had shot his brother in the head, he would have felt a similar degree of sadness.

Obviously, Rashid’s letter was just a publicity stunt, as was pointed out by Mansur Mahsud, a research director at the FATA (Federally Administered Tribal Area) Research Center in Islamabad. But what kind of publicity stunt was it?

It was an attempt to garner the power of altruism to help the Taliban. As many books, including my own Life of Earth, have pointed out, there are at least three ways in which the capacity for altruism can evolve. One of these, indirect reciprocity, may be unique to humans. Indirect reciprocity occurs when someone is nice to someone else, expresses love and respect and concern for someone else, in order to gain the goodwill not of the recipient but from the observers. A reputation for goodness is worth more than a lot of money in the bank. And apparently, according to Rashid, it is worth more than guns and IEDs. The reputation of goodness can be derived either from genuine goodness or from pretense. Rashid’s letter demonstrates that even one of the most evil groups in the world recognizes the necessity of having a reputation for goodness.

Rashid’s letter demonstrates that altruism is such a pervasive component of human psychology that even the Taliban has to tap into its power. It is a desperate attempt that fools nobody, but it is clear testimony to the importance of altruism in the human species. Our species has had the capacity for altruism for thousands or millions of years, but only in the last couple of centuries has this capacity had a chance to reveal itself as fully as it does today. Can you imagine Vlad the Impaler writing such a letter to, say, the family of one of his victims?

This essay also appeared today in my evolution blog.

Expect Nothing in This World

Independence Day has just passed. For many Americans, it is nearly a religious experience. But what is the American religion?

The American religion, which conservatives conflate with Christianity, is that we deserve to have instant access to every pleasure, regardless of the effects our pleasures have on other people. This is in complete contrast with Buddhism and also with Jesus, who told us to take no thought for the morrow, of what we should eat or drink or wear. And our economy depends on stoking our desires for instant gratification. If people started acting like Buddha or Jesus, our economy would collapse instantly. No corporation can thrive by pandering to the pleasures of people who do not feel the need to seek pleasures.

I am pretty good at not having desires and cravings for physical pleasure, at least for those pleasures that cost money and require time. But I am not perfect. During a recent excursion into the world of cravings, I learned a couple of things that helped me to understand better that physical gratification offers essentially nothing but frustration.

You will probably think this is weird, but I really like watching Perry Mason reruns from the 1960s. Perry Mason shows were a particular art form with a very specific structure. Even though each episode concerns a heinous crime, the structure of the show (the courtroom scene always begins at the half hour, for example, and the true criminal confesses his crime about eight minutes before the end) offers a comforting structure to the world. Everything is well, chaos is in retreat, when Perry Mason is at work. But where can you find these reruns? Perhaps online, if you subscribe to a download service. I do not, since I would use it only to watch a few Perry Mason reruns every summer. Blockbuster? Forget it. They do not even know that television existed in the 1960s. That leaves the public library. In Tulsa, you can find Perry Mason DVDs at libraries. Well, except that they are usually checked out by people even older than I am. It turns out that, if you want to put a hold on one, it will take at least three weeks before you can get it. There is no such thing as watching one of these DVDs on a whim. Since watching videos for pleasure is not something I often do, I am not accustomed to planning my video watching three weeks in advance. This is, for me, a formula for frustration.

There are three ways to avoid this frustration. One is to allow substitutibility for pleasures. (Did I spell that right?) If you want to watch a video, you should be open to almost any video—and they are mostly alike, and have blood and violence as their principal content. If you desire only to see a bloody, violent video (which Perry Mason is not; if there is blood, it does not show up well in black and white), then you can walk into any Blockbuster and find something that will please you. The second is to be willing to wait, which is frustrating. The third is the way that Jesus and Buddha talked about: to simply not desire any such pleasures.

My choice is somewhere between number 1 and number 3. I have lots of books, and lots of CDs I bought about a decade ago.  I can simply choose to enjoy what I already have, assuming that I can convince myself to substitute one of them for Perry Mason. I have not quite gotten to the point of desiring nothing. But I don’t have to, so long as I can be satisfied with whatever I happen to already have access to. And when I spend an evening with my wife, we can read stories to one another. But I’m sure Jesus was able to enjoy some pleasures also, even if it was only the pleasure of finding some cool fresh water in the desert.

The Narrow Road

I believe it was April 1968 when I gave a sermon to a bunch of my fellow Cub Scouts. We were all at a Camporee in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains in California. We spent a weekend trying out our various Scout skills, such as tying knots and sending messages by Morse code. (As the brainy kid, my job was to memorize the Code.) Our troop leader was a Presbyterian minister (the departed but not forgotten Alfonso Luke Fritz), so it was his troop that ended up with the responsibility of leading the Camporee church service. And Mr. Fritz knew that I was eager to give the sermon. The leaves were fresh and green, and the wildflowers bursting. So I, future botanist, based my sermon upon the natural world around us.

I chose a passage from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, Matthew’s version. (I read the Bible slowly and savored it, so I hadn’t yet gotten to Mark’s and Luke’s versions.) Matthew 7: 13-14 says, in one modern translation, “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.”

And that, I said, is what we cub scouts were doing when we went hiking around on mountain trails looking at birds and wildflowers. We had left behind the smooth highways and went on the steep trails. Our reward was to see beautiful things that you cannot see from a car or a highway. But it was no good for us to just walk along and glance around us. We had to closely observe the things around us, to notice how many different kinds of trees and wildflowers there were. One of the wonders of Scout lore was that we learned you can eat the stems of a species of spring wildflower called miner’s lettuce, which I now know as Claytonia perfoliata. A steep and narrow path is no better than a broad and smooth one if all we do is walk on it. By just walking, you would never see the plant at all.

I cannot remember much else that I said in that sermon, which was not very long. But I now reflect on what I did not say. I did not say anything about where the path was leading. I was not thinking about the direction of the path, toward Heaven or Hell, but rather the attitude of the person upon the path, the attitude of a person who would choose a steep and narrow path rather than taking the easy way out. I just assumed that the narrow path led heavenward and a smooth path led the other way. I also did not say anything about doctrinal beliefs. The path to salvation was not narrow and steep in terms of requiring knowledgeable assent to complex and confusing doctrines. God did not, I believed, hide truth amidst complexity, so that a sincere seeker could easily stumble into Hell. God did not make the path steep and challenging for its own sake. The path was a challenge which the hiker takes upon himself or herself.

Soon thereafter I became a fundamentalist. But after many years I have returned to a simple faith, which many consider agnostic, since I do not have any defined doctrinal beliefs. But that simple faith is to take the path less traveled and to closely observe the wonders of nature revealed by it. The path to salvation, whatever that is, is not a maze of doctrines but an attitude of expectancy. Whenever my wife and I take a walk out in the natural world (or whatever version of it one can find in suburban Tulsa), we expect to see something beautiful and interesting among the trees, birds, and flowers.

The Little Lines Separating Us

When I was in high school in 1974, I was our school’s representative to Boys’ State, a simulation of state government run by the American Legion. Most of the instructors were military officers, and military recruitment was one theme. One of our guest speakers was an astronaut who brought a prepared speech, but when he saw us, he threw down his script and just answered questions. Some wiseass asked him if, from orbit, he could see the little lines separating the countries. He said no, and that he couldn’t see the lines separating race and religion either. He got an ovation from that. Remember that this was back before the fundamentalist culture wars in America, and back when race relations were more strained than they are now.

During my recent visit to Big Bend (where I studied botany and evolution; see my evolution blog entry), I came right to the edge of the Rio Grande. It was not a grand river at this time; it was more like a large creek, only about thirty feet wide in some places. The challenge to rafters was to find water deep enough to float on. This is the little line that separates the U.S. and Mexico. Technically, the border runs down the middle of the river bed; the river ran in a narrow channel right next to the cliffs of the Mexican side, while on our side there was a wide rocky floodplain. Therefore, I must have actually been standing in Mexico. I reflected on how porous the border actually is, despite billions of dollars spent by the federal government to repel any Mexican who might venture (or any American botanist who might wander) across the border. Commerce is what happens when people try to make a living, and commerce is going to happen across the U.S.-Mexico border whether regulated or not.

Such was my conceptual view, but then something happened that put a human face on it. I met two entrepreneurs, trying a creative way to earn money for their families. “Jesús the Singing Mexican” stood under a tree on the Mexico side of the river and sang folk songs he thought Americans would recognize. He had a donation basket (actually an old plastic bottle) on the American side, and a canoe with which I assume he would slip over to empty it occasionally. His friend Ventura had some trinkets, rocks, and fossils on the ground near the trail. They were labeled in pencil on cardboard or rocks. I was about to walk past them when Ventura came running down to greet me and talk me into buying something. Had he seen any federales, I assume he could quickly have gathered his stuff, called for Jesús to bring the canoe, and retreated to the Mexico side very quickly. While I have no desire for trinkets, I really wanted to reward this entrepreneur, who might have been a Mexican and who had not had any business that day, and it was a very hot day. (Note to Border Patrol: I do not actually know Ventura was a Mexican national.) I bought some items, which did not include drugs, alcohol, tobacco, or firearms (please note, ATF and DEA) but which included a couple of wire sculptures for my wife and daughter. My $20 bill must have been dynamite on his side of the river, assuming he was Mexican. He said he had walked a couple of miles to set up his wares. He said that now he felt like running home. (To protect these two men, I will not mention the exact location.) Ventura was a really nice guy. When he found out I was a botanist, we talked about the trees on the tops of desert mountains. We formed the kind of close relationship that people want to have with their customers.

Of course, I have no proof that these two men were Mexican nationals and that our business transaction was illegal. For aught that I could prove to the contrary, they were Hispanic Americans sneaking into Mexico. But assuming that our activity was illegal actually made it more enjoyable. I have frequently commented in my blogs about the state of abject chaos in the American federal government, especially Congress. (The same may be true in Mexico.) I have no respect at all for our government. The feds could have, had they seen us, self-righteously denounced the illegality of our business—the same feds who cannot get anything done except to waste money. That is, assuming that Ventura and Jesús were actually illegal Mexicans.

There is only a thin line, even thinner than the drought-stricken Rio Grande, between me and Ventura and Jesús; there is a deep gorge between me and Congress. I actually respect Ventura and Jesús.

I suddenly realized that I was alone with them, with a pocketbook and an expensive camera. Of course, if they had taken anything, it would have become an international incident and brought their business to an end. But I never felt uneasy in their presence. I am distinctly uneasy in the presence of the IRS, which has still not given me my tax refund, after over two months since filing, and which admits its own horrible work. (The ousted IRS chief said to Congress on the very day that I met Ventura and Jesús, “We provided horrible customer service.”) I have given up expecting IRS to do anything right. I’ll choose Jesús and Ventura any day.

The last thing Ventura wanted was water. Alas, I had only a mouthful left. I wished I had thought about filling my leaky half-gallon jug at the hotel before I left, then I could have just given it to Ventura—whom I, of course, had not expected to encounter. Jesus (not Jesús) said that if all we have to give is a cup of water, to do so. All I had was cash. If I also had water, what nice symbol of mutual respect it would have been. Technically, it would have been illegal for me to give him that water, even if he had been dying in the desert. All he wanted was to not have to drink the green water in the Rio Grande.

Meanwhile, the U.S. federal government considers people like Jesús and Ventura to be dangerous enemies of the United States. I can just imagine the helicopters descending on “The Singing Mexican.” Or more likely a drone. (Okay, I’m exaggerating.) Federal documents say, “Mexican merchants will be arrested for illegal commercial operations which may result in a find and/or additional incarceration while awaiting adjudication prior to deportation.” For poor Jesús, this would undoubtedly mean a very long time sitting in jail before trial, especially since “the sequester” gives the federales an excuse to keep him locked up and leave his family without income for months.

And guess what. The Feds consider me to be an enemy also. “Items purchased illegally will be considered contraband and seized by officers when encountered.” Of course, I do not actually know whether my purchase was illegal or not.

To all this, the U.S. government gives a really bizarre justification. Why are Jesús and Ventura so dangerous? Because when they walk on the trails they will “crush plants along the river and cause erosion of riverbanks, and an increase in garbage and contaminants along the Rio Grande watershed.” What? The government document almost seems to be saying, “Them dirty Mexicans are contaminating everything, their footsteps will hurt the crabgrass and salt cedars, but it’s just fine with us if Americans pull their canoes and rafts up over the riparian vegetation.” By the way, salt cedars are invasive trees that the government spends a lot of money trying to eradicate, and I did not see any garbage that these two men may have left. Maybe they peed in the salt cedar bushes, which is something that Americans never ever ever do.

What advice do the federales give to Americans? They point out, “Lack of water is a life-threatening emergency in the desert.” (I would not have known this had not the wise and benevolent government pointed this out to me.) So what are you supposed to do if Jesús or Ventura asks for water? Jesus (not Jesús) would say, give him some. The U.S. government says to inform government officials of their location. This command comes not in a general location in the park newspaper but in the specific bullet point about what to do if one of the Mexican nationals asks for water. Of course, the nearest officials are many miles away and cell phone reception is poor. So you are supposed to leave Jesús and Ventura behind and drive off quickly to report them so that friendly federales can swoop down and arrest them, then give them water.

As I report in other blog entries, I had plenty of reason to be disgusted with my government anyway. Reading these federal instructions to park visitors filled me with the last full measure of disgust.

Immigration reform is not going to solve this problem. (I refer to the problem of the federal government, not the problem of Jesús and Ventura.) The problem is that our federal government considers us American citizens, as well as Mexican nationals, to be unworthy of basic dignity.

This assumes, of course, that these men really were Mexican nationals. Note: they were not immigrants, just visitors.

The lines separating us are so little that I cannot resist crossing them. They are certainly too small to see from outer space.

So here’s to “Jesús the Singing Mexican” and to Ventura the trinket vendor and to our common humanity.