Three words that speak volumes

Theresa May has attempted to woo Labour voters by describing her government as providing “a decent, moderate and patriotic programme” that is worthy of their support. These three words speak volumes. They capture exactly why any Labour voter, in fact why any voter with any concern for the future of human wellbeing at all, should NOT support her programme.

The least offensive of these three words is ‘decent’, and I suspect that many people would raise an eyebrow as to why I or anyone could object to it. After all, what is so wrong with being polite and respectable? Well, in itself, nothing, except that even these rather benign attitudes suggest a certain acceptance of the status quo, of doing things in a socially acceptable manner. It is these connotations of ‘decent’ that I object to; the implication that a ‘decent’ person is a person with an ability or desire to conform to social convention, to play by the rules, to not ‘rock the boat’. It is a word that is very British, very conservative, and very backward looking. The problems faced by humanity require the exact opposite attitude; they require people to be provocative, radical and forward looking.

The word ‘moderate’ has similar problems, and is, I suspect, a word that we will hear uttered often by many Conservatives in the coming months. Oliver Letwin, my local (Conservative) MP writes a weekly column in our local paper. A couple of weeks ago he wrote suggesting that the solutions to the complicated and messy problems that dominate our world should be moderate ones, ones located midway between extreme solutions in a similar manner to the ‘golden mean’ of Aristotelian virtue ethics. I have responded to say that for Aristotle virtues were not an end in themselves, but a means to an ultimate end, the greatest good, which he considered to be human flourishing. Life, for Aristotle, was a constant reflection upon the extent to which the exercise of these virtues moved a person towards such flourishing. And whilst no action or decision could be regarded as good or bad in itself, if it prevented someone moving in that direction it was to be avoided.

If we consider human life as a collective enterprise, as Aristotle did, then our flourishing could be regarded as an enterprise that meets the needs of everyone whilst living within the means and limits set by our planet. Our current obsession with economic grown and endless consumerism will clearly exceed these means and limits, and should, therefore, be jettisoned. The resulting adjustments to our lifestyles may well be seen by some (if not many) people as extreme, but they will be absolutely necessary for human flourishing. It is the light of such an analysis that both ‘decency’ and ‘moderation’ fail as guiding attitudes for a political programme.

May’s use of the word ‘patriotic’ extends these problems in other directions. My dictionary describes a patriot as “a person who vigorously supports his (sic) country and its way of life” and patriotism as “devotion to one’s own country and concern for its defence”. Our ‘way of life’ needs to be the subject of a radical reassessment rather than receive our vigorous support, so I will say no more on that aspect for now. What I will add, however, relates to the implication that we need to be devoted to our country and concerned with its defence. Such an attitude may have had a value in the past, when our way of life was threatened by the aggressive nature of other nations and that its defence required passion, sacrifice and solidarity. But not any longer.

Now I don’t want to shock anyone, but times have changed. The threats to our way of life come not from the threatened invasion by the massed troops of Johnny Foreigner, but from run-away climate change, world economic crises, global migration resulting from poverty or war, international terrorism, cyber security, and pandemics. These all pose existential threats to large numbers of humans, if not us all, and are all beyond the power of any national government to deal with. These threats will only be resolved through global cooperation, though the recognition of our global inter-dependence, not through a selfish devotion to our own country. Any concern for the defence of our country must be transformed into a concern for the flourishing of human life across the world.

Those three words uttered by May are words that are hopelessly out-of-date in the 21st century. They are conservative words, words that look back to a time that, for good or bad, will never, can never return. They need to be eradicated from any political programme and replaced by words that inspire us to look forwards to the future and outwards to the whole of humanity, words like radical, progressive and humanitarian.

Is it time for a World Government?

Is this a good time to resurrect the idea of a World Government? In these times of increasing nationalism and calls to “take back control” is it worth considering the value of the opposite approach – the value of increasing internationalism and passing control to an entity with global vision?

I have thought for a while now that we should be giving this some serious consideration, but what brought this to the front of my mind was a recent ‘Archive on 4’ programme on Radio 4 (The Dream of a World Government) in which David Miliband described first the birth and eventual failure of the League of Nations, and then the formation of the United Nations. The first of these was founded as result of the 1920 Paris Peace Conference that followed the First World War – an attempt to create an intergovernmental organisation that would prevent the recent recent horrors from occurring again. But occur again they did. So, in 1945 the League was replaced by the UN – an international organisation tasked to promote international cooperation and to create and maintain international order. I’ll leave you to judge the success of the UN, but I would suggest that any success has so far been partial, and is under increasing threat from resurgent nationalisms.

The next existential threat to humanity was not long in following, with the power of the UN again being shown to be marginal. In 1961, when the Cold War was in full swing and amidst the clear and widely held belief that a nuclear war could easily bring humanity to the brink of extinction, the British philosopher Bertrand Russell expressed his lack of faith in the ability of any national government to resolve matters. In his book Has Man a Future he argued that an international government of some kind was required to deal with the failures of national ones.

The threat of nuclear war may have retreated, but other existential threats to humans have emerged, and in many ways these are more intractable than those of nuclear war. These treats are trans-national. Whilst individual national governments can be persuaded, through economic, diplomatic or military means, to pull back from the brink, the threats facing humanity now are beyond the scope of any national government to do anything about. So whilst inter-governmental interventions could be highly effective in resolving nuclear threats, they are absolutely essential to the resolution of our current ones. Global climate change, world economic crises, global migration resulting from poverty or war, international terrorism, cyber security, and pandemics all pose existential threats to large numbers of humans, if not us all, and are all beyond the power of any national government to deal with. These threats have no respect for borders, so “taking back control of our borders” will prove futile. They can only be resolved through global cooperation, though our recognition of our global inter-dependence.

On the day I write this, Donald Trump is due to speak at the UN (the closest we have to an international government, but one made ineffective by the power of certain nations to veto any resolution). He is expected to assert yet again his motif of “America first”. Whilst this may be well received by many of his domestic supporters ahead of November’s mid-term elections, on the world stage it is deeply concerning. Whether we like it or not, all aspects of human life on this planet are highly connected and interdependent. And the complexity that is behind this interdependence is increasing daily. This needs to be acknowledged by our politicians. They are simply failing in their jobs if they fail to do so. Politicians need to be honest with the electorate, they need to tell them that certain things they want are just not possible. It is just not possible to put your own country first and to “take back control” of that country. Any national interest is best served by accepting its inter-dependence and that global cooperation is the only way forward. This needs facilitating, and perhaps even enforcing at times, by some form of world government.

On prisons

There has been a great deal of talk about prisons of late. But rather than get into a debate about who should run our prisons, the state or private enterprise, I think it worth asking why send people to prison in the first place? At the very least, prison involves the intentional infliction of some degree of suffering upon someone together with the removal of their human right to liberty and free movement. How can we morally justify such action? And how effective is it?

In very broad terms there are two main approaches to justifying punishing someone through imprisonment, a backward looking approach, one that focuses on the ‘crime’ committed, and a forward looking one that focuses on the future behaviour of the ‘criminal’.

The oldest, the most traditional approach, is that of retribution, the idea that a person committing a crime should receive their ‘just deserts’, that somehow the punishment should fit the crime, and that the criminal should suffer to the same extent as their victim. There are too many problems with this ‘an eye for an eye’ approach to punishment for me to discuss in a short blog, but, in extreme summary: at a logical level, it is difficult, if not impossible, to balance the crime with the punishment (particularly if the punishment you want to inflict is prison); and, at an ethical level, once the ‘appropriate’ degree of suffering has been inflicted, you surely have to ask ‘what has been achieved’ other than causing more suffering?

A second aspect to the backward looking approach, a more modern take on the above, is that of grievance satisfaction. This is the idea that offenders must pay their debt to society, and that the justification of the punishment lies in the satisfaction it brings to others; it satisfies the grievances of both the victim and their family, and those of the wider society. I am not convinced that this attempt to justify punishment can be sustained. The ‘satisfaction’ of knowing that someone is locked-up is surely mitigated by both the cost of doing so and the longer term harm generated by psychologically damaging the prisoner even further than they possibly already were before releasing them back into society. Having said that, I do think that some forms of ‘restorative justice’, where the offender meets their victim, understands their suffering, and attempts to ‘make amends’, can prove effective – but not through the prison system.

The forward looking approaches aim to prevent crime from happening in the future. And it’s here that a very limited justification for imprisonment can be found – and I do mean very limited. If a person is found to be a serious risk to either themselves or to other people it may be that the only option is prison – that this person is confined to some form of institution until such time when it is assessed that that risk has passed. This is the only time when I think imprisonment can be justified.

The other ‘forward looking’ justifications for imprisonment do more harm than good and, in general, make re-offending more likely. One of these justifications is that prison will act as a deterrence to future offending – that the time spent and suffering received in prison will encourage the offender either to see ‘the error of their ways’ or will be such an unpleasant experience that they will not want to suffer it again. I can’t of course say that this has never happened, but I’m convinced that the tougher the regime in prison, the greater the extent to which the prisoner has to adapt to, and survive in, life in the company of other offenders, and the greater the extent to which he (and it usually is a ‘he’) becomes an offender.

Prison, of course, if often cited as an opportunity for an offender to be rehabilitated, to receive some training or education that will improve their life on the outside and make offending less likely. Yes, training and education, together with various forms of ‘therapy’, may well be of huge benefit, but these should be done on the ‘outside’, not in the concentrated criminal atmosphere of a prison regime. With the possible exception of a few people who pose a serious risk to either themselves or others, I can see no justification at all in locking people up.

Whilst I accept that arguments can be made as to why certain offenders should suffer their loss of freedom, it is very difficult to actually rationalise just to what extent their sentence matches their crime, but worse, I think that in doing so society makes them much more likely to commit further offences in the future. If we are serious about reducing crime in this country, I suggest that we consider redirecting the money that is currently spent producing criminals in our prison system towards improving the lives of the people and their families who are largely responsible for the majority of crimes in the first place.

How about a ban on advertising?

What would life be like if advertising was banned? I ask because I personally find advertising annoying, and at times totally infuriating. And according to many who research social and economic equality it makes a serious contribution to our levels of inequality.

At a practical level, advertising does absolutely nothing to help supply our needs, the things we really value. If we need and value something we do not need prompting to seek it out. All advertising does is create wants and desires that otherwise would probably not exist, and makes us feel dissatisfied when these wants and desires are not met.  The non-existence of these manufactured wants and desires would not only do us no harm, but may actually improve our lives. Buying less stuff, stuff people work very hard to convince us we want, which we have to earn the money to pay for, would make our lives easier and less stressful. And it would certainly help sustain natural resources and our environment.

What really set this train of thought off was the World Cup. Now I don’t watch that much television, and when I do it tends to be a BBC channel rather than a commercial one – simply because I want to avoid the adverts. And I certainly don’t go out of my way to watch football. But when it’s all around you it’s hard to avoid being sucked in, and some of the matches were screened in ITV. Watching them I felt more overwhelmed than usual by the power of the ‘commercial breaks’. Not only did I find them annoying, some, those for various on-line betting companies for example, I though bordered on being anti-social and unethical. But not only that, it occurred to me that I seem to manage totally well in life without being subjected to such demands for my money.

But I’m also a realist. I acknowledge that there is a problem with my attitude. How would commercial TV and radio survive without the revenue it receives from advertising? This is a genuine problem that I do not have a solution for. Even though my viewing and listening habits tend to focus on the BBC, I accept that they are by no means perfect and that they should by no means have a monopoly on what is being broadcast. If they did it would be one giant step towards government control of broadcast media and a retrograde step for democracy and openness.

There’s a similar set of problems when it comes to on-line advertising. In an article for the current edition of the New Statesman, Ian Leslie makes a distinction between what he calls ‘the Advertising Industry’, the traditional advertising agencies that come up with the media campaigns that we are all too familiar with and that are behind the television adverts referred to above, and the ‘Advertising Business’ which is what we experience on-line. This new approach doesn’t go in for ‘creative’ campaigns. Rather it collects data from our on-line activities and directs simple adverts towards us, targeted to what the various algorithms have calculated we are interested in. These adverts are even more annoying than the television ones. Some, and the website of my local newspaper is a prime example, so bombard you with adverts that it becomes increasingly difficult to navigate around the site. I can’t quite workout why the operators of these sites don’t consider the possibility that such aggressive advertising might actually put people off visiting them.

But again, a similar problem exists. Much on-line content is paid for by the adverts they display. Many sites could not survive without them. And despite the growing criticism of many on-line companies, the internet has been responsible for a massive democratisation of knowledge. I may be getting old and grumpy, I may even have a far too idealistic view of what life could be like, but for all its ills I wouldn’t want my access to information available on the internet restricted by my ability to pay.

However, despite my acceptance of all these problems, and my total inability to think of solutions, I still believe that advertising is responsible for much of the misery and inequality society faces. As Danny Dorling, also writing in a recent edition of the New Statesman, has said: “The advertising industry…displays the economics of inequality at play: convincing those with less to buy more of what they did not need to enrich those already best off.” So, just for an experiment, why don’t we find out what would happen if advertising were banned – even if only for a month?

There is no such thing as THE will of the people

There is no such thing as the will of the people, a singular will or intention that can be unambiguously enacted. This I think so obvious that I almost feel embarrassed making the point. But politically, it’s important. In the midst of the protracted political debate about how to enact the result of the EU referendum there have been numerous calls from ardent leavers for politicians to ‘follow the will of the people’, and obvious signs of frustration that such a ‘simple’ request is not being carried out.

But such a request is far from simple, and for a number of reasons. First, and most importantly, it is impossible for any collective to have a will, a single unified will capable of being enacted. Now the notion of ‘will’ is, itself, far from straight forward, but if we take it simply as that aspect of our mental faculty responsible for making decisions and initiating action, I fail to see how any individual ‘will’ can be identical with any other. The complexity of our individual thought processes, the uniqueness of the circumstances that provide our motivations to act and our visions of future states, makes this impossible. The most that can be achieved is a vaguely similar vision of a future state that a large number of people can agree they want. However, in the same way that a large number of people can claim to have witnessed the same event but when questioned on the details offer slightly different versions, those who sign up to any shared vision, when questioned, will envisage things slightly differently.

Second, even if we accept the possibility of a large group of people holding a vaguely similar vision of a future state, it does not follow that that state can be brought about. When we hold a vision of an imagined future we tend to avoid the fine details. It’s only when we try to bring that future into being that we discover the complexity of what is involved. Unless we are an engineer working on a particular design project we do not stop to consider the details of our vision – how it will work when imbedded in the real world and how we can actually get from here to there. In short, just holding such a vision doesn’t mean that it can be achieved. In a former life I was a careers adviser, and used to advise students to make ‘well informed and realistic decisions’. It is quite conceivable that the decision to leave the EU was neither well informed nor realistic. I suspect that most voters at the referendum did not undertake the amount of research into their potentially life changing decision as I advised those students to undertake into theirs.

Finally, the implication behind this call for our MPs to follow the will of the people is that they should forget their own opinions and judgements and instead simply enact the result of the referendum. Forgetting for a moment the two minor points outlined above, what would be the result if our MPs did so act? They would all support the draft legislation laid before parliament – giving this legislation 100% support, even though it only received 52% support in the referendum. Would they question it? Scrutinise it? Challenge it? If they are going to support whatever is presented to them, why should any of the proposed arrangements be amended or reviewed? But how can we assume that what is presented first time round is substantially the best version? How can an MP scrutinise without the ability to vote against? To repeat the points made above, it is impossible for 650 MPs to view any matter in exactly the same way, and if they have their freedom to reject any proposed action taken away from them we effectively become a totalitarian state!

Stoicism and the World Cup

I choose my words carefully because commenting on football is far more dangerous than commenting on politics; there are far more experts, far more offences to be taken, and you are far more likely to be considered a little odd for not following the herd. However, what I have always considered a little strange is the emotional investment people make in something that is so outside of their control; the euphoria they feel when their team is successful and the complete deflation they feel when they lose. If they had some input into this success or failure, if they had some degree of responsibility for it, I could understand their reaction. But on the whole, I just don’t get it. And this response is magnified many times when it comes to an event like the World Cup, and the public mood becomes palpable.

Even though I do not regard myself as a Stoic, a certain aspect of Stoicism, a school of philosophy that started in ancient Greece and became dominant in ancient Rome, I think worthy of consideration. Epictetus, a Greek Stoic and freed slave who ran a thriving school in Nicopolis in the early second century CE, urged his students to ask, of their reaction to events in the world: “’Is this something that is, or is not, in my control?’ And if it’s not one of the things that you control, be ready with the reaction, ‘Then it’s none of my concern.’”

Such a sentiment led to their guidance to seek the strength to change the things in life we can change, the resilience to accept with equanimity those things we cannot change, and the wisdom to know the difference, a sentiment that later got written into a Christian prayer. Leaving aside the Stoic belief in the power of fate in a highly deterministic universe (not a minor request, I agree, but bear with me), the basic point is: There are many things over which we have absolutely no control, like the inevitability of death, the inevitability of bad weather, and that only one team can win a competition. There are other things that we can have some control over, like our health, our contribution to global warming, and how well we play as part of a team. We should be very concerned about the latter, and be prepared to put a great deal of effort into doing something about the issues. But becoming concerned about the former is just a waste of time that makes us feel bad unnecessarily, and drains the energy we have available to channel into the latter.

The real skill, however, is developing the wisdom to differentiate between the two. I totally accept that the crowd in stadium can lift and encourage their team and have some effect on the outcome of the game, and that therefore the emotional investment made by the crowd through their support will result in some degree of elation or deflation at the result. But the extent to which some supporters allow their support to structure and provide meaning to practically their entire life, and the extent to which passive (non-attending) supporters allow the result of games to so deeply affect their mood, seems to me to be a total waste of emotional energy. Instead, why not become angry at some of the social inequalities that exist, and then become active in doing something about them? Why not emotionally invest in something that can be changed? In something you can have some control over? That is wisdom. And the result of such an investment is well worth being concerned about.

Beware the popularist wolf

The long and steady drift towards popularist politics, epitomised by the election and performance of Donald Trump, is a very dangerous wolf in sheep’s clothing. It clothes itself as the voice of the down-trodden, morally good people fighting back against the corrupt and all powerful elite, but instead simply opens the doors for the most corrupt and self-interested to gain power with the minimum of public scrutiny. Rather than liberating ‘the people’ it patronises them with emotive headlines, and in so doing supresses their ability to critically challenge.

I am not against all popularist writing. Popular science or philosophy books can be a real force for good, introducing people with no or little back-ground understanding of a subject to ideas that allow them to not only see their world from a fresh perspective, but provides them with the critical tools that allows engagement with problems in an enhanced and more effective manner. Such writing has the capacity to encourage further study or research, and (hopefully) the desire to ask increasingly more forensic questions of those in power. No doubt with the odd exception, such writing does not ‘dumb down’ the issues – rather it opens them to greater scrutiny.

The same cannot be said of the popular press. The main purpose of these ‘news’ papers is not to inform its readership, but to increase their numbers. Their aim is to increase the number of copies sold (and therefore their profits) through evocative and emotive headlines – headlines which feed prejudice and ignorance rather than trying to combat it. Any ‘analysis’ lurking behind the headlines simply (very simply) supports the headline, and makes little attempt to either inform the reader or sharpen their critical skills. These papers, under the guise of supporting the people, instead seek their support; their support in buying the paper, and their support in any campaign they might run; both of which only support the wealth and power of the paper’s owners.

Popularist politicians like Donald Trump adopt much the same attitude. They speak in headlines, phrases which are aimed at their supporters rather than the people, institutions or governments that they need to be talking to, phrases which are evocative and emotive, but which have little or no depth. Thinking, together with any attempt at critical analysis and understanding have been demonised along with ‘experts’. Not only is critical thinking not encouraged, it is overtly drowned by a rising tide of emotions, a tide that is actively fuelled by emotive language. They do not want people to think, to critically engage with the issues. If they did they would see these politicians for what they actually are: people with a greatly over inflated sense of their own self worth and importance, and who are only interested in the wealth and power that public acclaim can supply.

We need to increase public debate and scrutiny. We need as many people as possible to become engaged with the issues we have to deal with, not leave it to a minority of wealthy and powerful individuals who know how to avoid critical scrutiny. It is not only deeply, deeply patronising to the general, none expert population to assume that they have no need of expertise or additional information, that they have an intuitive grasp of a very complex situation, but also very, very dangerous. It it the path towards tyranny, the path towards government by a few very wealthy people.

If the readers of the popular press and supporters of popular politicians are guilty of anything, it is probably laziness; a reluctance to critically engage with issues, a desire for (followed by a belief in) simple solutions. And this is not just a belief in simple solutions, it’s also a belief that the underlying problem is simple. This is where we really need to wake up. We need to understand that very few, if any, of the problems we face are simple. They do not follow a straight forward cause and effect model, where if we dislike the effect we simply modify the cause. The vast majority of the problems we face have have a multitude of causes, causes with varying degrees of significance that we can never be sure of; and any cause (because it can never be isolated from causes outside of our control) can have any number of unpredictable effects. There are no simple explanations, no simple solutions – there really are not! And to believe that there are only opens the gate to the wolf with a sweet tongue yet very sharp teeth.

 

 

On human happiness or flourishing

What’s your goal? I don’t just mean today, this week, or even this year, but over the course of your life? If you try to imagine yourself reflecting back on your life towards its end, what achievement will cause you to think that your life has been good? And I purposely said ‘goal’ and not goals, even though I know that we all have many of them.

I ask because recent conversations have caused me to revisit work I was focussed on a few years ago regarding virtue ethics, and in particular its potential value as a green ethic. Environmental ethics has, to a large extent, been dominated by a utilitarian approach, an approach that focusses on ends rather than means. In attempting an impossible calculation of the ‘greatest good for the greatest number’ it often seems to justify very questionable means of achieving that good. The other main approach to ethics, one adopted by many ‘hard line’ campaigners for animal rights, focuses instead on the means, and largely ignores the end. Under this approach certain acts are quite simple wrong, irrespective of context and consequences. My gripe with such an approach is that it is impossible to explain why such acts are wrong without taking into account context and consequences.

Virtue ethics, whilst taking into account both means and ends, instead focusses on the character development of the person making the decision. Under such an approach no act is good or bad, right or wrong, in and of itself – such an assessment is impossible to make. But through trying to develop certain virtues or character traits, and through the development of good habits, over the course of their life a person becomes more and more skilled in making good decisions. The character traits developed are those we think necessary in order to achieve the main goal in life. Hence my opening question. For Aristotle, the ancient Greek philosopher who is credited with developing virtue ethics, this goal was happiness or flourishing.

Aristotle reasoned that everything we do, we do for a reason – to achieve a certain end. But when we examine those ends we then find that they, in turn, are simply means to some further end. And when we examine this further end…you get the idea. If we follow this line of thinking through to its conclusion we arrive at a final end, what Aristotle thought the greatest good. This he termed eudaimonia, a word that is often translated as ‘happiness’. However, as his notion of happiness was not as laden with the same degree of subjectivity as our modern day notions, an alternative and better translation is flourishing.

Take my act of writing this blog for example. Why do I do it?  I often ask myself this. Very few people people read this blog, so what is the point? Well, I do it for a number of reasons: writing helps me to organise my thoughts, and having my thoughts organised helps me to explain my thinking in more pressured circumstances, and being able to do this (hopefully) allows me to persuade other people that certain decisions or courses of action are more beneficial than others. I can arrive at the same end if I follow the thread of another reason for writing, that by doing so I may engage with the thinking of others through the written word. Why do I want to persuade other people to adopt certain courses of action? Because I truly believe that these courses of action will be for the common good.

At an individual level, as an aspiring politician, to flourish I need to be able to respond to any situation with a measured, well through through and considered argument. I need to be able to get others to take my views and comments seriously, and persuade them to at least consider them, and possibly act on them. But circumstances change, and events often confront us unexpectedly. So, in a wider sense than just politics, my individual flourishing is not (and cannot be) a specific state or response. It has to be a dynamic response to circumstance, to what ever life throws at me, a response that keeps me ‘in a good place’, a place in which I am as able as possible, both physically, emotionally and psychologically, to form effective relationships with my fellow citizens and physical environment.

But no man is an island, and what applies to the individual applies to the community as a whole. A community, at any level, flourishes when it is able to respond to circumstances in such a way that it maintains healthy internal relationships between its members, and externally with its physical environment in which it is nested and upon which it is dependent for so many essential life giving elements. To my thinking, flourishing is this ability to respond and maintain healthy relationship with out fellow humans, non-human life, and the planet Earth. And if, at an individual level we are able to do this, we develop a sense of happiness. But, having arrived at some comprehension of what the greatest good (the common good, the Good) might be, how do we get there? Aristotle’s answer is by developing certain character traits, or virtues. To be continued.

If only Nietzsche had done a better job!

In the same way that you do not need to be an out and out royalist to keep the myth of the acceptability of inherited social status and privilege alive, you do not need to be devoutly religious to keep the myth of a transcendent origin and reference point for human morality alive. Even tacit support for the monarchy and God keeps these two myths breathing and influencing our social relations. Unless they are both laid to rest once and for all they will continue to influence, even at the level of the unconscious, who we think we are, our role in society, and how we behave towards each other. And in doing so they will act as severe restraints on our ability to creatively respond to the problems we encounter. In my previous blog I focussed on the former of these, now I present my case against God.

A few weeks ago I attended a debate organised by Dorset Humanists on belief in the existence of God. The debate was between a humanist and an evangelical Christian. The humanist presented what he considered to be the six main areas of argument, and why he though that such belief was unfounded. The Christian responded by focussing on just three of these areas in explaining why he thought it was. In the spirit of fairness, I will attempt a brief summary of the three contested areas, and add my tuppence worth.

In the beginning…was the cosmological argument, the idea that every event has a cause, and that even the ‘big bang’ which brought the universe into being had to have had a cause. For the Christian, that cause was God (though to be fair he did say that this was the weakest of his three arguments), whilst the humanist offered two potential causes, a personal creator or a cause that derived from contemporary scientific thinking – a ‘multi-verse’, the idea that the ‘big-bang’ was simply the emergence of this universe from any number of possible previous universes. If I sound like I actually understand this last bit, you are very much mistaken. But in a way that is my response to both of these arguments.

They both assume that because our logic tells us that there had to be a cause, there was one. But, as far as I can understand, at the moment of the ‘big-bang’, matter as we experience it, did not exist – this emerged later. All that existed probably did so at the quantum level, which is a very strange place indeed, certainly a place in which cause and effect, as we know it, did not / does not happen. Our whole conception of cause and effect is premised on our experiences of the physical world, and is totally unsuited to comprehend the interaction of energy outside of this physical world. For me, any argument from first cause falls at this hurdle.

The second argument concerns morality. From the Christian perspective, our conscience requires us to have objective moral values, some transcendent reference point against which we can measure goodness – and that reference point is, of course, God. The humanist response, which I fully endorse, is that, quite simply, there are no objective moral values, and no transcendent reference point. Our morality is the result of the evolution of social norms, the evolution of a loose set of ethical responses that have been found, through practical experience, to be advantageous to our continued survival. These are neither objective (have total universal application) nor subjective (are totally relative to the individual), they are inter-subjective – they are the result of our social interaction with each other. Many have close to universal application, but none totally so.

And the third argument concerned the existence and ‘experiencing of’ Jesus Christ. For the evangelic Christian this was the most important argument for the existence of God. He firmly believed that Christ was God incarnate, that there is good historical evidence to support this, and, for him, this belief is confirmed by his own religious experiences. For the humanist, there is no historical evidence to support this. From my perspective, the so called ‘evidence’ has two irreconcilable problems: it was first written many years after the events it claims to record happening (therefore allowing a huge degree of mental rewriting, interpretation and story telling), and has undergone many translations (all of which would, almost of necessity, require further ‘interpretation’). Additionally, both of the above, together with any attempt to understand our personal experiences, are subject to what psychologists term ‘confirmation bias’. We interpret the evidence to confirm what we already believe.

Religion, and the concept of a transcendent being, were simply stories constructed by our distant ancestors to make sense of the world that they were experiencing; an attempt to impart meaning and purpose to their experiences such that they could better deal with what life threw at them. They served a purpose, a purpose that is now better served by science and the scientific method of requiring experimental evidence before we provisionally accept something as ‘true’. Continued belief in religion, even tacitly, prevents us responding creatively, and in a more informed way, to the events of life. It attempts to anchor our thinking, either consciously or unconsciously, to myths that hold back our social, moral and cognitive evolution. We need to accept that the concept of God is dead. If only Nietzsche had done a better job!

It’s time for a British Republic

There are two subjects that I try to avoid for fear of upsetting people: God and the monarchy. To my thinking, belief in both is not only outdated and unreasonable, but constitutes a habit that prevents people responding positively and creatively to the problems we face. Prompted by a certain royal wedding this week-end, I have decided that it’s time the gloves came off. In this particular blog I present my case against the monarchy, in the next I’ll present my case against God.

I fully understand that the British monarchy are only constitutional monarchs and have no real power – that the Queen is a purely symbolic head of state. But that’s the issue – my main concern regards what the monarchy actually symbolises: inherited status and privilege; a social structure in which we know our place and bow down to people simply because of the position they were born into. Why should I place anybody on pedestal (or a throne) and revere them simply on the grounds of their birth? But that is the insidious and unconscious message that support for the monarchy entails – support for a social structure that is hierarchical, archaic and grounded in inherited privilege.

I would like my head of state to symbolise meritocracy and accountability. Whilst I’m actually quite reluctant to place anybody on a pedestal, I am prepared respect their position if they have acquired it through merit and ability, through some form or democratic process, and if they are accountable to the people for their actions. And I want them to actually have power – power to change things, power to drive forward the common good. I would like my head of state to have an understanding of the problems we face, a vision of the future, and the ability to drive us towards that vision.  But most of all, I would like my head of state to symbolise and campaign for human global egalitarianism.

The Crown Chronicles website lists eight reasons why we should retain the monarchy. From my perspective, eight reasons why we should assign them to room 101.

  1. They unite the people: Potentially that is true, but united under an archaic and privileged social structure that keeps people in their place rather than united behind a vision for the future that promotes their creativity.
  2. They provide stability: Again true, but an outdated stability that is creeping towards stagnation.
  3. They are cheaper than a Republic: I’ve not done the maths on this so am prepared to take them at their word (though intuitively it feels wrong), but even if they are correct I think the price of a Republic would be one well worth paying.
  4. They are less corrupt and more trusted than politicians: It’s difficult to be corrupt without power, but what’s the point of a head of state without power? The solution is to demand higher standards from our politicians, not retain an inherited position in which the incumbent is not accountable to the people.
  5. They are good for the economy: So was slavery, an expansive empire, and coal production, but that doesn’t make them desirable in the twenty-first century.
  6. They have morals: They may or may not, but who is there to judge, or hold them to account? Surely the argument is not that their inherited position somehow provides them with an intrinsic morality only available to one such as themselves?
  7. The monarchy makes sense: No it doesn’t, for all the reasons stated above.
  8. Important causes and issues are highlighted: Various members of the royal family have, over recent years, highlighted important issues, but no more than a whole host of politicians and other campaigners. Again, surely the argument is not that only the view from their privileged position provides insight into issues the rest of us are incapable of seeing, or that only their privileged position permits the dissemination of these issues to people capable of doing something about them?

So I’m sorry if I offend any royalists, but everything about the monarchy seriously offends my sense of humanity. I have nothing against any individual member of the royal family other than the wealth and status they have acquired simply by virtue of their birth, and I wish them no harm other than they experience life as the vast majority of us experience it. We need to end this outdated system now, and replace it with a British Republic. Until we do, their background privileged and hierarchical structure will continue to infest the remainder of our social structure in ways we are not even aware of.