Prometheus Unbound

Not quite, but Lincoln seems to have flirted with deism, entertained evolution, and had a decidedly ambivalent, sometimes even hostile, relationship to conservative Christian religion. Lincoln biographer Richard Lawrence Miller, writing in Free Inquiry earlier this year, says:

For an isolated thinker whose acquaintance with religion was mainly through frontier preachers, the works by Volney and Paine may have opened new vistas. Billy Herndon said that after Lincoln began his Springfield residence in 1837, “He became acquainted with various men of his own way of thinking. At that time they called themselves free thinkers.” Matheny, one of Lincoln’s early Springfield friends, recalled Bible discussions among members of a Springfield poetry club. Lincoln “would bring the Bible with him, read a chapter, argue against it. . . . Lincoln was enthusiastic in his infidelity. As he grew older he grew more discreet, didn’t talk much before strangers about religion. But to friends—close and bosom ones—he was always open and avowed.” Matheny said he “heard Lincoln call Christ a bastard.”

And Lincoln was an early enthusiast for a popular book on evolution (written a couple of decades prior to Darwin’s Origin of Species ):

According to Billy Herndon, Lincoln admired a book called The Vestiges of Creation by Robert Chambers, which Lincoln read in the 1840s. This book argues that geological and biological evolution have occurred, that the earth is the product of a gaseous nebula, that life first occurred through a natural process, and that present creatures evolved from previous ones, all by processes dictated by scientific principles and laws. That book didn’t deny the existence of God but took a deist approach, saying, “To a reasonable mind the Divine attributes must appear, not diminished or reduced in some way, by supposing a creation by law, but infinitely exalted.”

Late in life, Lincoln appears to have become devout, though it’s not clear whether it was in the Orthodox sense, or whether he had merely adopted an intense and eccentric spirituality unique to his own person:

His best friend, Joshua Speed, related an incident from 1864, when Speed encountered Lincoln reading a Bible. “‘Well,’ said I, ‘if you have recovered from your skepticism, I am sorry to say that I have not.’ Looking me earnestly in the face, and placing his hand on my shoulder, he said: ‘You are wrong, Speed. Take all of this book upon reason that you can, and the balance on faith, and you will live and die a happier and better man.’” What converted Lincoln is difficult to know. His old friend Jo Gillespie said, “After he became President he told me that circumstances had happened during the war to induce him to a belief in ‘special providences.’” There are accounts of him engaging in intense prayer, and he told his cabinet that he issued the Emancipation Proclamation in fulfillment of a promise he made to God.

Miller sums up the older Lincoln’s religiosity this way:

Perhaps he found . . . reassurance in religion. If so, however, it was a big change in his life that was unnoticed by the person closest to him. After his death, his widow, Mary, said, “Mr. Lincoln had no hope—and no faith in the usual acceptation of those word[s].”

Abraham Lincoln, that great American sphinx, seems to have taken the secrets of the exact nature of his deepest religious (and irreligious) beliefs to the grave with him. Perhaps, as a thoughtful and conflicted man, he could not articulate them consistently even to himself. Might the best word for such a man—the word that characterizes Lincoln’s life as a whole—be agnostic ?

Your Majesties, Your Royal Highnesses, Distinguished Members of the Norwegian Nobel Committee, citizens of America, and citizens of the world:

I receive this honor with deep gratitude and great humility. It is an award that speaks to our highest aspirations – that for all the cruelty and hardship of our world, we are not mere prisoners of fate. Our actions matter, and can bend history in the direction of justice. 

And yet I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge the considerable controversy that your generous decision has generated. In part, this is because I am at the beginning, and not the end, of my labors on the world stage. Compared to some of the giants of history who have received this prize – Schweitzer and King; Marshall and Mandela – my accomplishments are slight. And then there are the men and women around the world who have been jailed and beaten in the pursuit of justice; those who toil in humanitarian organizations to relieve suffering; the unrecognized millions whose quiet acts of courage and compassion inspire even the most hardened of cynics. I cannot argue with those who find these men and women – some known, some obscure to all but those they help – to be far more deserving of this honor than I. 

But perhaps the most profound issue surrounding my receipt of this prize is the fact that I am the Commander-in-Chief of a nation in the midst of two wars. One of these wars is winding down. The other is a conflict that America did not seek; one in which we are joined by forty three other countries – including Norway – in an effort to defend ourselves and all nations from further attacks. 

Still, we are at war, and I am responsible for the deployment of thousands of young Americans to battle in a distant land. Some will kill. Some will be killed. And so I come here with an acute sense of the cost of armed conflict – filled with difficult questions about the relationship between war and peace, and our effort to replace one with the other. 

These questions are not new. War, in one form or another, appeared with the first man. At the dawn of history, its morality was not questioned; it was simply a fact, like drought or disease – the manner in which tribes and then civilizations sought power and settled their differences. 

Over time, as codes of law sought to control violence within groups, so did philosophers, clerics, and statesmen seek to regulate the destructive power of war. The concept of a “just war” emerged, suggesting that war is justified only when it meets certain preconditions: if it is waged as a last resort or in self-defense; if the forced used is proportional, and if, whenever possible, civilians are spared from violence. 

For most of history, this concept of just war was rarely observed. The capacity of human beings to think up new ways to kill one another proved inexhaustible, as did our capacity to exempt from mercy those who look different or pray to a different God. Wars between armies gave way to wars between nations – total wars in which the distinction between combatant and civilian became blurred. In the span of thirty years, such carnage would twice engulf this continent. And while it is hard to conceive of a cause more just than the defeat of the Third Reich and the Axis powers, World War II was a conflict in which the total number of civilians who died exceeded the number of soldiers who perished. 

In the wake of such destruction, and with the advent of the nuclear age, it became clear to victor and vanquished alike that the world needed institutions to prevent another World War. And so, a quarter century after the United States Senate rejected the League of Nations – an idea for which Woodrow Wilson received this Prize – America led the world in constructing an architecture to keep the peace: a Marshall Plan and a United Nations, mechanisms to govern the waging of war, treaties to protect human rights, prevent genocide, and restrict the most dangerous weapons. 

In many ways, these efforts succeeded. Yes, terrible wars have been fought, and atrocities committed. But there has been no Third World War. The Cold War ended with jubilant crowds dismantling a wall. Commerce has stitched much of the world together. Billions have been lifted from poverty. The ideals of liberty, self-determination, equality and the rule of law have haltingly advanced. We are the heirs of the fortitude and foresight of generations past, and it is a legacy for which my own country is rightfully proud. 

A decade into a new century, this old architecture is buckling under the weight of new threats. The world may no longer shudder at the prospect of war between two nuclear superpowers, but proliferation may increase the risk of catastrophe. Terrorism has long been a tactic, but modern technology allows a few small men with outsized rage to murder innocents on a horrific scale. 

Moreover, wars between nations have increasingly given way to wars within nations. The resurgence of ethnic or sectarian conflicts; the growth of secessionist movements, insurgencies, and failed states; have increasingly trapped civilians in unending chaos. In today’s wars, many more civilians are killed than soldiers; the seeds of future conflict are sewn, economies are wrecked, civil societies torn asunder, refugees amassed, and children scarred. 

I do not bring with me today a definitive solution to the problems of war. What I do know is that meeting these challenges will require the same vision, hard work, and persistence of those men and women who acted so boldly decades ago. And it will require us to think in new ways about the notions of just war and the imperatives of a just peace. 

We must begin by acknowledging the hard truth that we will not eradicate violent conflict in our lifetimes. There will be times when nations – acting individually or in concert – will find the use of force not only necessary but morally justified. 

I make this statement mindful of what Martin Luther King said in this same ceremony years ago – “Violence never brings permanent peace. It solves no social problem: it merely creates new and more complicated ones.” As someone who stands here as a direct consequence of Dr. King’s life’s work, I am living testimony to the moral force of non-violence. I know there is nothing weak -nothing passive – nothing naïve – in the creed and lives of Gandhi and King. 

But as a head of state sworn to protect and defend my nation, I cannot be guided by their examples alone. I face the world as it is, and cannot stand idle in the face of threats to the American people. For make no mistake: evil does exist in the world. A non-violent movement could not have halted Hitler’s armies. Negotiations cannot convince al Qaeda’s leaders to lay down their arms. To say that force is sometimes necessary is not a call to cynicism – it is a recognition of history; the imperfections of man and the limits of reason. 

I raise this point because in many countries there is a deep ambivalence about military action today, no matter the cause. At times, this is joined by a reflexive suspicion of America, the world’s sole military superpower. 

Yet the world must remember that it was not simply international institutions – not just treaties and declarations – that brought stability to a post-World War II world. Whatever mistakes we have made, the plain fact is this: the United States of America has helped underwrite global security for more than six decades with the blood of our citizens and the strength of our arms. The service and sacrifice of our men and women in uniform has promoted peace and prosperity from Germany to Korea, and enabled democracy to take hold in places like the Balkans. We have borne this burden not because we seek to impose our will. We have done so out of enlightened self-interest – because we seek a better future for our children and grandchildren, and we believe that their lives will be better if other peoples’ children and grandchildren can live in freedom and prosperity. 

So yes, the instruments of war do have a role to play in preserving the peace. And yet this truth must coexist with another – that no matter how justified, war promises human tragedy. The soldier’s courage and sacrifice is full of glory, expressing devotion to country, to cause and to comrades in arms. But war itself is never glorious, and we must never trumpet it as such. 

So part of our challenge is reconciling these two seemingly irreconcilable truths – that war is sometimes necessary, and war is at some level an expression of human feelings. Concretely, we must direct our effort to the task that President Kennedy called for long ago. “Let us focus,” he said, “on a more practical, more attainable peace, based not on a sudden revolution in human nature but on a gradual evolution in human institutions.” 

What might this evolution look like? What might these practical steps be? 

To begin with, I believe that all nations – strong and weak alike – must adhere to standards that govern the use of force. I – like any head of state – reserve the right to act unilaterally if necessary to defend my nation. Nevertheless, I am convinced that adhering to standards strengthens those who do, and isolates – and weakens – those who don’t. 

The world rallied around America after the 9/11 attacks, and continues to support our efforts in Afghanistan, because of the horror of those senseless attacks and the recognized principle of self-defense. Likewise, the world recognized the need to confront Saddam Hussein when he invaded Kuwait – a consensus that sent a clear message to all about the cost of aggression. 

Furthermore, America cannot insist that others follow the rules of the road if we refuse to follow them ourselves. For when we don’t, our action can appear arbitrary, and undercut the legitimacy of future intervention – no matter how justified. 

This becomes particularly important when the purpose of military action extends beyond self defense or the defense of one nation against an aggressor. More and more, we all confront difficult questions about how to prevent the slaughter of civilians by their own government, or to stop a civil war whose violence and suffering can engulf an entire region. 

I believe that force can be justified on humanitarian grounds, as it was in the Balkans, or in other places that have been scarred by war. Inaction tears at our conscience and can lead to more costly intervention later. That is why all responsible nations must embrace the role that militaries with a clear mandate can play to keep the peace. 

America’s commitment to global security will never waiver. But in a world in which threats are more diffuse, and missions more complex, America cannot act alone. This is true in Afghanistan. This is true in failed states like Somalia, where terrorism and piracy is joined by famine and human suffering. And sadly, it will continue to be true in unstable regions for years to come. 

The leaders and soldiers of NATO countries – and other friends and allies – demonstrate this truth through the capacity and courage they have shown in Afghanistan. But in many countries, there is a disconnect between the efforts of those who serve and the ambivalence of the broader public. I understand why war is not popular. But I also know this: the belief that peace is desirable is rarely enough to achieve it. Peace requires responsibility. Peace entails sacrifice. That is why NATO continues to be indispensable. That is why we must strengthen UN and regional peacekeeping, and not leave the task to a few countries. That is why we honor those who return home from peacekeeping and training abroad to Oslo and Rome; to Ottawa and Sydney; to Dhaka and Kigali – we honor them not as makers of war, but as wagers of peace. 

Let me make one final point about the use of force. Even as we make difficult decisions about going to war, we must also think clearly about how we fight it. The Nobel Committee recognized this truth in awarding its first prize for peace to Henry Dunant – the founder of the Red Cross, and a driving force behind the Geneva Conventions. 

Where force is necessary, we have a moral and strategic interest in binding ourselves to certain rules of conduct. And even as we confront a vicious adversary that abides by no rules, I believe that the United States of America must remain a standard bearer in the conduct of war. That is what makes us different from those whom we fight. That is a source of our strength. That is why I prohibited torture. That is why I ordered the prison at Guantanamo Bay closed. And that is why I have reaffirmed America’s commitment to abide by the Geneva Conventions. We lose ourselves when we compromise the very ideals that we fight to defend. And we honor those ideals by upholding them not just when it is easy, but when it is hard. 

I have spoken to the questions that must weigh on our minds and our hearts as we choose to wage war. But let me turn now to our effort to avoid such tragic choices, and speak of three ways that we can build a just and lasting peace. 

First, in dealing with those nations that break rules and laws, I believe that we must develop alternatives to violence that are tough enough to change behavior – for if we want a lasting peace, then the words of the international community must mean something. Those regimes that break the rules must be held accountable. Sanctions must exact a real price. Intransigence must be met with increased pressure – and such pressure exists only when the world stands together as one. 

One urgent example is the effort to prevent the spread of nuclear weapons, and to seek a world without them. In the middle of the last century, nations agreed to be bound by a treaty whose bargain is clear: all will have access to peaceful nuclear power; those without nuclear weapons will forsake them; and those with nuclear weapons will work toward disarmament. I am committed to upholding this treaty. It is a centerpiece of my foreign policy. And I am working with President Medvedev to reduce America and Russia’s nuclear stockpiles. 

But it is also incumbent upon all of us to insist that nations like Iran and North Korea do not game the system. Those who claim to respect international law cannot avert their eyes when those laws are flouted. Those who care for their own security cannot ignore the danger of an arms race in the Middle East or East Asia. Those who seek peace cannot stand idly by as nations arm themselves for nuclear war. 

The same principle applies to those who violate international law by brutalizing their own people. When there is genocide in Darfur; systematic rape in Congo; or repression in Burma – there must be consequences. And the closer we stand together, the less likely we will be faced with the choice between armed intervention and complicity in oppression. 

This brings me to a second point – the nature of the peace that we seek. For peace is not merely the absence of visible conflict. Only a just peace based upon the inherent rights and dignity of every individual can truly be lasting. 

It was this insight that drove drafters of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights after the Second World War. In the wake of devastation, they recognized that if human rights are not protected, peace is a hollow promise. 

And yet all too often, these words are ignored. In some countries, the failure to uphold human rights is excused by the false suggestion that these are Western principles, foreign to local cultures or stages of a nation’s development. And within America, there has long been a tension between those who describe themselves as realists or idealists – a tension that suggests a stark choice between the narrow pursuit of interests or an endless campaign to impose our values. 

I reject this choice. I believe that peace is unstable where citizens are denied the right to speak freely or worship as they please; choose their own leaders or assemble without fear. Pent up grievances fester, and the suppression of tribal and religious identity can lead to violence. We also know that the opposite is true. Only when Europe became free did it finally find peace. America has never fought a war against a democracy, and our closest friends are governments that protect the rights of their citizens. No matter how callously defined, neither America’s interests – nor the world’s -are served by the denial of human aspirations. 

So even as we respect the unique culture and traditions of different countries, America will always be a voice for those aspirations that are universal. We will bear witness to the quiet dignity of reformers like Aung Sang Suu Kyi; to the bravery of Zimbabweans who cast their ballots in the face of beatings; to the hundreds of thousands who have marched silently through the streets of Iran. It is telling that the leaders of these governments fear the aspirations of their own people more than the power of any other nation. And it is the responsibility of all free people and free nations to make clear to these movements that hope and history are on their side 

Let me also say this: the promotion of human rights cannot be about exhortation alone. At times, it must be coupled with painstaking diplomacy. I know that engagement with repressive regimes lacks the satisfying purity of indignation. But I also know that sanctions without outreach – and condemnation without discussion – can carry forward a crippling status quo. No repressive regime can move down a new path unless it has the choice of an open door. 

In light of the Cultural Revolution’s horrors, Nixon’s meeting with Mao appeared inexcusable – and yet it surely helped set China on a path where millions of its citizens have been lifted from poverty, and connected to open societies. Pope John Paul’s engagement with Poland created space not just for the Catholic Church, but for labor leaders like Lech Walesa. Ronald Reagan’s efforts on arms control and embrace of perestroika not only improved relations with the Soviet Union, but empowered dissidents throughout Eastern Europe. There is no simple formula here. But we must try as best we can to balance isolation and engagement; pressure and incentives, so that human rights and dignity are advanced over time. 

Third, a just peace includes not only civil and political rights – it must encompass economic security and opportunity. For true peace is not just freedom from fear, but freedom from want. 

It is undoubtedly true that development rarely takes root without security; it is also true that security does not exist where human beings do not have access to enough food, or clean water, or the medicine they need to survive. It does not exist where children cannot aspire to a decent education or a job that supports a family. The absence of hope can rot a society from within. 

And that is why helping farmers feed their own people – or nations educate their children and care for the sick – is not mere charity. It is also why the world must come together to confront climate change. There is little scientific dispute that if we do nothing, we will face more drought, famine and mass displacement that will fuel more conflict for decades. For this reason, it is not merely scientists and activists who call for swift and forceful action – it is military leaders in my country and others who understand that our common security hangs in the balance. 

Agreements among nations. Strong institutions. Support for human rights. Investments in development. All of these are vital ingredients in bringing about the evolution that President Kennedy spoke about. And yet, I do not believe that we will have the will, or the staying power, to complete this work without something more – and that is the continued expansion of our moral imagination; an insistence that there is something irreducible that we all share. 

As the world grows smaller, you might think it would be easier for human beings to recognize how similar we are; to understand that we all basically want the same things; that we all hope for the chance to live out our lives with some measure of happiness and fulfillment for ourselves and our families. 

And yet, given the dizzying pace of globalization, and the cultural leveling of modernity, it should come as no surprise that people fear the loss of what they cherish about their particular identities – their race, their tribe, and perhaps most powerfully their religion. In some places, this fear has led to conflict. At times, it even feels like we are moving backwards. We see it in Middle East, as the conflict between Arabs and Jews seems to harden. We see it in nations that are torn asunder by tribal lines. 

Most dangerously, we see it in the way that religion is used to justify the murder of innocents by those who have distorted and defiled the great religion of Islam, and who attacked my country from Afghanistan. These extremists are not the first to kill in the name of God; the cruelties of the Crusades are amply recorded. But they remind us that no Holy War can ever be a just war. For if you truly believe that you are carrying out divine will, then there is no need for restraint – no need to spare the pregnant mother, or the medic, or even a person of one’s own faith. Such a warped view of religion is not just incompatible with the concept of peace, but the purpose of faith – for the one rule that lies at the heart of every major religion is that we do unto others as we would have them do unto us. 

Adhering to this law of love has always been the core struggle of human nature. We are fallible. We make mistakes, and fall victim to the temptations of pride, and power, and sometimes evil. Even those of us with the best intentions will at times fail to right the wrongs before us. 

But we do not have to think that human nature is perfect for us to still believe that the human condition can be perfected. We do not have to live in an idealized world to still reach for those ideals that will make it a better place. The non-violence practiced by men like Gandhi and King may not have been practical or possible in every circumstance, but the love that they preached – their faith in human progress – must always be the North Star that guides us on our journey. 

For if we lose that faith – if we dismiss it as silly or naïve; if we divorce it from the decisions that we make on issues of war and peace – then we lose what is best about humanity. We lose our sense of possibility. We lose our moral compass. 

Like generations have before us, we must reject that future. As Dr. King said at this occasion so many years ago, “I refuse to accept despair as the final response to the ambiguities of history. I refuse to accept the idea that the ‘isness’ of man’s present nature makes him morally incapable of reaching up for the eternal ‘oughtness’ that forever confronts him.” 

So let us reach for the world that ought to be – that spark of the divine that still stirs within each of our souls. Somewhere today, in the here and now, a soldier sees he’s outgunned but stands firm to keep the peace. Somewhere today, in this world, a young protestor awaits the brutality of her government, but has the courage to march on. Somewhere today, a mother facing punishing poverty still takes the time to teach her child, who believes that a cruel world still has a place for his dreams. 

Let us live by their example. We can acknowledge that oppression will always be with us, and still strive for justice. We can admit the intractability of depravation, and still strive for dignity. We can understand that there will be war, and still strive for peace. We can do that – for that is the story of human progress; that is the hope of all the world; and at this moment of challenge, that must be our work here on Earth. 

What a wonderful, beautiful person Father Foster is! My favorite scene from Religulous:

Oops. It doesn’t embed. See it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LJKigLT_D8

Maybe both?

The New York Times today provides an interesting “history-in-a-nutshell” perspective on the CERN Large Hadron Collider (LHC):

Particle colliders get their magic from Einstein’s equation of mass and energy. The more energy that these machines can pack into their little fireballs, in effect the farther back in time they can go, and the smaller and smaller things they can see. The first modern accelerator, the cyclotron built by Ernest Lawrence at the University of California, Berkeley, in 1932, was a foot in diameter and boosted protons to just 1.25 million electron volts. CERN, a 20-nation consortium, grew from the ashes of World War II and has provided a template for other pan-European organizations like the European Space Agency and the European Southern Observatory. With a budget and dues set by treaty, CERN enjoys a long-term stability that is the envy of American labs. . . . The [CERN] collider was designed to investigate what happens at energies and temperatures so high that the reigning theory of particle physics called the Standard Model breaks down. In effect, the new machine’s job is to “break” the Standard Model and give physicists a glimpse of something deeper and more profound.

Something deeper and more profound? Okay. And what if it doesn’t find anything?:

The future of particle physics depends on whether the Large Hadron Collider finds anything. If it yields nothing, in the words of CERN physicist, John Ellis, it would mean that theorists have been talking rubbish for the last 35 years. Actually, he used a stronger word.

Gooey prickles and prickly goo?

Curiously, in the most recent dead tree edition of Free Inquiry (Dec. 2009/Jan. 2010), the 84 year old Paul Kurtz, the kindly rational father of Prometheus Books and the Center for Inquiry in Buffalo, doesn’t exactly say no to the question, “Is there such a thing as an atheist fundamentalist?” In a brief editorial on pages 4 and 5 of the magazine (titled “The True Unbeliever”), Kurtz defines fundamentalism this way:

A fundamentalist is a person who is committed to a set of basic beliefs or doctrines with dogmatic and inflexible loyalty.

And Kurtz, working from this definition, observes of some contemporary atheists:

[T]here still lingers among some true unbelievers  an unflinching conviction toward atheism—God does not exist, period ; they are convinced of that! This kind of dogmatic attitude holds that this and only this is true  and that anyone who deviates from it is a fool.

Kurtz then quotes the famed Pragmatist, John Dewey, as saying:

The aggressive atheist seems to have something in common with traditional superstition. . . . The exclusive preoccupation of both militant atheism and supernaturalism is with man in isolation from nature. [A Common Faith ]

By this Kurtz interprets Dewey to mean that the militant atheist is not properly cognizant of history or the problems of epistemology and ethics. Then Kurtz observes of the Dewey quote, “This form of militant atheism is often truncated and narrow-minded”, and, at the conclusion of his article, suggests another way:

Atheism, like agnosticism and skepticism, can be a dignified posture when it is based on careful reflection and civilly expressed. It should not be mean-spirited. Many of us prefer a kinder and gentler form of secular humanism. 

Back in the late 1980s, I had lunch with Paul Kurtz near LAX in Los Angeles. As a young person who had abandoned Christian fundamentalism for atheism, I had written to Kurtz, and when he was in California for a secularist gathering, he invited me to attend the event and join his party for lunch. I’ve never picked up from Kurtz anything but an open—I might even say, Christian—spirit, and I hope that his dignified and open form of humanism, after the tide of the New Atheism runs its heated course and becomes passe, reasserts itself. Of course, it’s also possible that Kurtz is part of a dying breed—the WWII, Camus-style atheist—sobered, not just by religious irrationality, but by the clash of 20th century nationalist and secular ideologies as well (as in William Butler Yeats’s 1921 poem, “The Second Coming”):

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

________________

Here’s an image of Paul Kurtz (from Wikipedia Commons):

Noah Pollak, at Commentary today, on how the tensions over the Iranian nuclear weapons program might play out over the next year:

David Ignatius’s account of a war game involving the United States, Israel, the Europeans, and Iran (and Gary Sick’s addendum) is a good guide to how the struggle over the Iranian nuclear program might play out:

“The U.S. team — unable to stop the Iranian nuclear program and unwilling to go to war — concluded the game by embracing a strategy of containment and deterrence. The Iranian team wound up with Russia and China as its diplomatic protectors. And the Israeli team ended in a sharp break with Washington.”

Let me try to flesh out what the “sharp break with Washington” might consist of. . . . [T]he real challenge for Obama over the next year isn’t going to be dealing with the Iranians, it’s going to be deterring the Israelis. . . . The president is perfectly capable of muddling through the nuclearization of Iran. What would create huge problems is an Israeli strike. Obama would have to use the military to keep the Strait of Hormuz open. The “Arab street,” which he has worked so hard to befriend, would burn him in effigy from Algiers to Islamabad. The Zionist-Crusader axis would be denounced around the world. “Optics” are very important to Obama, quite more so than substance, and he would look as though he had completely lost control of the Middle East (which would be true). And once again, the world would descend into the kind of brutal struggle for power that is not supposed to happen during the Obama Era.

No hope or know hope?

And it might even preserve free will.

Technology Review (published by MIT) reports today that two physicists have a new idea about what it means to live in a block universe:

Today, Ellis and Rothman introduce a significant new type of block universe. They say the character of the block changes dramatically when quantum mechanics is thrown into the mix. All of a sudden, the past and the future take on entirely different characteristics. The future is dominated by the weird laws of quantum mechanics in which objects can exist in two places at the same time and particles can be so deeply linked that they share the same existence. By contrast, the past is dominated by the unflinching certainty of classical mechanics. What’s interesting is that the transition between these states takes place largely in the present. It’s almost as if the past crystallizes out of the future, in the instant we call the present. Ellis and Rothman call this model the “crystallizing block universe” and go on to explore some of its properties. . . . Ellis and Rothman suggest that their model provides a straightforward solution to the problem of the origin of the arrow of time. “The arrow of time arises simply because the future does not yet exist,” they say.

Okay, so let me get this straight. The future does not exist, so it’s open, right? Human consciousness lives on the boundary between a determinate and expanding Newtonian past and an indeterminate quantum future.

So maybe we live in a block universe and still have free will?

And if this is the kind of block universe that we inhabit, does that mean that our consciousness is analogous to a water droplet moving on the surface of a block of ice? And once we move, the trace behind us freezes, and we make another move, and another, until one day, at the death of our “consciousness droplet”, we are wholly consumed (or “frozen”) and so end? Consciousness is the condensate of the present?

Hmm.

Choose wisely your slippery path through this strange boundary existence, grasshopper. The way may be open.

Representative John Shimkus, earlier this year, on why there’s no need for any serious concern about global warming:

A piece on the New Atheist movement, written by Robert Wright, appeared this past week at Foreign Policy’s website:

[T]he New Atheists’ main short-term goal wasn’t to turn believers into atheists, it was to turn atheists into New Atheists — fellow fire-breathing preachers of the anti-gospel. The point was to make it not just uncool to believe, but cool to ridicule believers.

And the result?:

Though the New Atheists claim to be a progressive force, they often abet fundamentalists and reactionaries, from the heartland of America to the Middle East. If you’re a Midwestern American, fighting to keep Darwin in the public schools and intelligent design out, the case you make to conservative Christians is that teaching evolution won’t turn their children into atheists. So the last thing you need is for the world’s most famous teacher of evolution, Richard Dawkins, to be among the world’s most zealously proselytizing atheists. These atmospherics only empower your enemies. So too with foreign policy: Making “Western” synonymous with “aggressively atheist” isn’t a recipe for quelling anti-Western Islamist radicalism. And there’s a subtle but potent sense in which New Atheism can steer foreign policy to the right. Axiomatic to New Atheism is that religion is not just factually wrong, but the root of evil, which suggests that other proposed root causes of the sort typically stressed on the left aren’t really the problem. Sam Harris, in discussing terrorism, wholly dismisses such contributing factors as “the Israeli occupation of the West Bank and Gaza,” “the collusion of Western powers with corrupt dictatorships,” and “the endemic poverty and lack of economic opportunity that now plague the Arab world.” The problem, Harris states, is religion, period. Most New Atheists aren’t expressly right wing, but even so their discounting of the material causes of Islamist radicalism can be “objectively” right wing (as in George Orwell’s assertion that pacifists were “objectively pro-fascist” regardless of their views about fascism).

Ideas have consequences, and I don’t think that Wright is engaged in an unfair characterization of New Atheist rhetoric. On November 28th, for example, one prominant New Atheist, Jerry Coyne, could be found, at his website, sounding for all the world like Rush Limbaugh or Glenn Beck:

Well, I’m not in favor of stereotyping individual Muslims, but as for Islam, well, it does seem to be an intrinsically belligerent religion. Read the Qur’an — you’ll find plenty of belligerence there.  And if you object that the Old Testament is belligerent, too, look then all the imams calling for jihad.  And how many Muslims stood up to protest the widespread jubilation in the Middle East that ensued after 9/11, or stood up to defend the right of Danish newspapers to publish cartoons mocking Mohamed?

This Pakistani television interview, with English subtitles, I think emphasizes the importance of Westerners not to make blanket and stereotyped observations about ”what Muslims believe” as a group. As with the majority of Christians and Jews, the majority of Muslims are genuinely perplexed by the psychology of the fundamentalists within their ranks, and try to understand what is motivating them:

From this interview, isn’t it obvious that the problem of religious violence and fundamentalism within Islam is not something pathological about Islam itself, but something pathological about the fundamentalist psyche? Ideologies, religious and secular, breed fanatics in times of accelerated cultural change and economic upheaval. What culture Dostoevskian “underground men” happen to spring from has to do with where the stress lies.

In light of this, does it really make sense, as New Atheist Jerry Coyne recently did at his blog site, to speak this way about Islam?:

Well, I’m not in favor of stereotyping individual Muslims, but as for Islam, well, it does seem to be an intrinsically belligerent religion. Read the Qur’an — you’ll find plenty of belligerence there. And if you object that the Old Testament is belligerent, too, look then all the imams calling for jihad. And how many Muslims stood up to protest the widespread jubilation in the Middle East that ensued after 9/11, or stood up to defend the right of Danish newspapers to publish cartoons mocking Mohamed?

This “New Atheist-neoconservative-Sam Harris” way of talking about Islam, as Robert Wright has recently observed, distorts the situation on the ground. One man in the video is an enemy of the West, and of democratic and liberal civilization, and the other, obviously, is not. Both men call themselves Muslims. As among Christians, Jews, and atheists, there are people you can talk to and people you can’t.

In Richard Dawkins’s recent editing of an anthology of modern science writing, a female scientist notices something:

Got myself an early yule present today; “The Oxford book of modern science writing” . . . Of 83 texts Professor D has selected 3 written by women. That’s about 3.6 %. How hard could it be to find a handful more? Like 10 %? It would still be a wiener fest.

This seems a rather timely question, as I also noticed another New Atheist, Daniel Dennett, getting a similar question—not with regards to science, but religion—and giving what seemed to me an old school chauvinist response (“biology is destiny”). Is it just me, or do you get the impression that Dennett senses his answer failing with the audience? Anyway, Dennett’s response is within the first two minutes of this clip:

While it might at first seem a bit odd to see Dawkins and Dennett coming up against some feminist resistance, in retrospect it makes sense: both men, being strict materialists, are going to have problems with contra-causal free will being more than an illusion, and so are going to accept certain human institutions as being, ultimately, “biology based” and “natural” (including the dominance of alpha males in the realms of science and religion).

A bit of Marina and the Diamonds seems apt here:

The difference between a problem and the experience of a mystery:

Environmental peace in our time?

At Salon today, environmentalist Bill McKibben says that, with regard to global warming, civilization has an existential threat before it akin to Adolf Hitler. The slow-working of politics as usual, in other words, won’t work. You either throw-in with a war-like footing against a real collective threat, or you see your very existence overtaken by a maelstrom. McKibben thinks that carbon levels above 350 parts per million are problematic (and we’re already at 390 parts per million):

A new analysis released Thursday by a consortium of European think-tanks shows that the various offers on the table add up to a world in which the atmosphere contains 650 parts per million and the temperature rises an ungodly five degrees Fahrenheit. What I’m saying is: even the best politicians are treating the problem of climate change as a normal political one, where you halve the distance between various competing interests and do your best to reach some kind of consensus that doesn’t demand too much of anyone, yet reduces the political pressure for a few years — at which time, of course, you (or possibly someone entirely different) will have to deal with it again. Obama is doing the same thing with climate change that he did with healthcare. He’s acting with complete political realism . . . Here, unfortunately, the foe is implacable. Implacable foes emerge rarely. The best human analog to the role physics is playing here may be fascism in the middle of the last century. There was no appeasing it, no making a normal political issue out of it. You had to decide to go all in, to transform the industrial base of the country to fight it, to put other things on hold, to demand sacrifice. Yet it’s all too obvious that we’re not dealing with it that way.

No, we’re not. And we will not. Which means that we better hope that greenhouse gas buildup will not have the consequences most feared by some climate scientists. To avert disaster, we might also cross our fingers for a technological fix. A political solution is obviously going to be an inadequate muddle (as most political solutions are). Contemporary global leaders—like Barack Obama—make for good compromise-oriented Neville Chamberlains, but not-so-good Winston Churchills.

I would liken my agnosticism about God and the afterlife to someone who is agnostic about life on Mars. At this point in the 21st century, we have enticing Martian clues about methane on the planet, but nothing definitive (it could be the product of life or volcanism). And Mars, like death, is (to put it in Shakespearean language) an “undiscovered country”. Martian life, if it exists, is an enigma for which there are clues from which we can draw inferences, but there is no definitive evidence one way or another. And yet, like with God and the afterlife, we have people who express near certainty about life (or nonlife) on Mars. Indeed, we even have some enthusiasts in the UFO community who have persuaded themselves that there is not just life on Mars, but that God or aliens may have placed a 2001-like monolith on the small Martian satellite of Phobos. Here’s Buzz Aldrin hinting at this wild idea:

In other words, we have claims about Mars that are no less elaborate than claims about heaven (and equally without foundation). And yet, we all know what is the sensible response to both believers and disbelievers in life on Mars: agnosticism. Likewise, claims about God and the afterlife inhabit precisely the same “epistemic space” as positive and negative claims about life on Mars. When dealing with an undiscovered country, it’s best to keep your perplexity, not your certainty, at the fore.

The vote for marriage equality in the New York legislature lost last week, but Diane Savino’s speech was a moving moment prior to the vote:

Atheist philosopher Thomas Nagel continues to get sassed by his fellow atheists for reviewing favorably, in the Times Literary Supplement, Stephen Meyer’s Intelligent Design book, Signature in the Cell (2009). Philosopher and legal scholar, Brian Leiter, at the University of Chicago, is representative of the level of contempt being displayed toward Nagel, and because Leiter provides links to others sassing Nagel (and Meyer) on the Internet, you can look at those as well (if you’re so inclined):

What else can one say when a prominent, and formerly reputable, philosopher lends the fame of his name to endorse the latest misleading hatchet job on biological science by Stephen Meyer, one of the key figures in the Discovery [sic] Institute?  Scientists are already taking note of this embarrassing display (and see here), which just invites ridicule of the profession . . . It is sad, but it is also a reason to be angry, since he’s not simply making a fool of himself, he’s giving ammunition to those who campaign, relentlessly, to undermine biology education in the public schools.  (The pathological liars at the Discovery [sic] Institute are already all over this and other creationists also realize the public relations value of this endorsement.)  Regarding what actual experts think of Mr. Meyer’s work, do see this and this and this.  There is also a patient dissection of the book from a religious biochemist here.  (And for even more on Meyer and the Discovery [sic] Institute, these two items are illuminating.)

Biologist Jerry Coyne, also of the University of Chicago, apparently can’t even bring himself to write out the title of Meyer’s book, and has taken to putting the title in this curious way:

Nice news:  WEIT  has not only been put on the list of Amazon’s ten best science books of 2009 (note the good company of Dawkins’s The Greatest Show on Earth, and the unwelcome company of The Evolution of God — not a science book! — and Stephen Meyer’s S____ in the C____) . . .

Coyne is either unwilling to promote the book’s title to his blog readers, or he wishes to have his readers insert a profanity (like Sh– in the Commode). Perhaps both? In any case, Thomas Nagel has yet to formulate a response to the New Atheist blog venom being spewed at him. If you’re wondering, by the way, what all the fuss is about—what started this—here’s all that Nagel said:

Stephen C. Meyer’s Signature in the Cell: DNA and the evidence for Intelligent Design  (HarperCollins) is a detailed account of the problem of how life came into existence from lifeless matter – something that had to happen before the process of biological evolution could begin. The controversy over Intelligent Design has so far focused mainly on whether the evolution of life since its beginnings can be explained entirely by natural selection and other non-purposive causes. Meyer takes up the prior question of how the immensely complex and exquisitely functional chemical structure of DNA, which cannot be explained by natural selection because it makes natural selection possible, could have originated without an intentional cause. He examines the history and present state of research on non-purposive chemical explanations of the origin of life, and argues that the available evidence offers no prospect of a credible naturalistic alternative to the hypothesis of an intentional cause. Meyer is a Christian, but atheists, and theists who believe God never intervenes in the natural world, will be instructed by his careful presentation of this fiendishly difficult problem.

Robert Wright has some interesting observations at Foreign Policy on the Robespierre-like enthusiasm for ideological purity among the New Atheists. Maybe Thomas Nagel should read Wright’s piece before replying to them.

Then:

Now:

Here’s an image of Eleanor Roosevelt, 60 years ago (in 1949), holding up a broadsheet containing the Universal Declaration of Human Rights:

The Universal Declaration of Human Rights was adopted by the United Nations on December 10th, 1948. I think that Eleanor Roosevelt would have liked this. If you’ve forgotten what it means to be a liberal, or why you ever became a liberal in the first place, here’s a reminder: