Brian Cox gives a Detailed Update on the Large Hadron Collider (2011)

Brian Cox Discusses the Role of Television with Regard to Science

NASA Scientist finds evidence of extraterrestrial life (Update)

NASA scientist finds micro-fossils inside meteor!

Apparently other professional scientists are calling this a hoax.

Phil Plait thinks the magazine is bogus: http://blogs.discovermagazine....


Likewise, P.Z. Myers is suggesting that this is bunk: http://scienceblogs.com/pharyngula/2011/03/did_scientists_discover_bacter.php

David Dobbs joins in the pile-on over at Wired: http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2011/03/aliens-riding-meteorites-arsenic-redux-or-something-new/

Polyamorous Ponderings

Polyamorous Ponderings
In a recent blog post I stated that: when it comes to relationship models, I personally do not see any moral distinction between one social construct and another, whether it polygamy, polyandry, polyamory, monogamy and so forth. They are each merely variant relationship models... This is not a controversial statement, mind you. Regardless of what model you practice, it has been my experience that most successful adult relationships are predicated on fidelity and loyalty, communication and negotiation, trust, honesty, dignity, gender equality, non-possessiveness, mutual support, sharing domestic burdens and so on (you may be surprised to learn that these are the values within polyamory, not monogamy, although some of the values are overlapping).


Upon learning this, my Christian friend asked me the following hypothetical question:

With that in mind, if your wife said, “I love you Tristan, but I am attracted to someone else as well—would it be alright to have a physical relationship with them?”, how would you respond given the above description of sexual morality?

Understand this is purely theoretical—I am merely proposing a scenario to [assess] your view of morality vis a vis sexual fidelity in marriage.

Bracketed material originally said *test. However, I think our author means to say assess, since, technically speaking, nobody can test my own personal morality except me. That is to say, others could create a situation in which I would be required to make a moral decision, but they are only supplying the cause, the effect is predicated on my own choices and actions—as such I am the one who puts my morality to the test—therefore it is more accurate to say *access in this situation. It’s a subtle, but I feel, important distinction to make here, considering the nature of the question.

Seeing as this question involves rather complex issues, I took a couple days to mull over my response.

Hypothetical Scenario

Let us pretend that of the seven billion people on the planet, roughly half of them women, so who is to say there isn’t a better match for me than my wife? I haven’t met all the women in the world, I know a relative precious few, but suppose I met a second match which not only rivals my wife in every aspect, but who I am even more attracted to. Now, I do not mean mere physical attraction, but also full emotional, intellectual, physical, compatibility. The entire works—she’s the deluxe version of my wife. What’s more, she makes me happy, just as happy as my wife does. And suddenly I find I am in love with two women equally.

Let us assume, for the sake of the argument, that my wife’s best friend comes to me and informs me of a decade long infatuation she’s secretly harbored for me, tells me that she has left her husband (who no longer makes her happy) and that she desires to start a relationship with me. Surprised by this news, I inform her that I too have harbored a secret passion for her as well. She decides the best course of action is to be truthful and inform my wife. We come out with it, and inform my wife how much we both still love her, but that we are attracted to each other too and want to begin a serious relationship, and we ask her if that’s all right. Being split between her love for me, and her love for her best friend, what would my wife say?

In reality my wife, being the passionate woman she is, would probably punch her fist through my face, reach into my skull, and pull out my spine only to crush it under the boot of her empurpled foot—and she’d probably decapitate her best friend with one swift karate chop of righteous rage. Then she’d engulf all of Tokyo with her fire-breath and next the entire world, for hell hath fury like a woman scorned. But hypothetically speaking, what if the reverse was the case? What if it wasn’t me who met my second soul mate, but my wife? Suppose then, the shoe was on the other foot, and my wife comes to me and informs that she still loves me, but that she is attracted to someone so much that she wants to begin a real relationship with them, but her love for me compels her to desire to continue our relationship as well, and she wants to know would it be alright?

The Categorical Imperative

Kantian ethics relies on something called the categorical imperative. In brief, the idea behind the categorical imperative is that there are absolute values, and so absolute forms of morality, and if this is true then it would be immoral to break the categorical imperative for selfish desires (as the categorical imperative is predicated on our desires).

Yet there are two things which we must note. First, absolute morality has not been confirmed beyond a reason of a doubt—that is the verdict is still out on whether or not absolute morality exists at all, and even assuming it did (as Kant seemed to), would we be capable of actualizing it? Secondly, not all of Kant’s examples were clear. His moral concerns regarding sex, for example, are extremely confused. Kant declared, “Taken by itself [sexual love] is degradation of human nature; for as soon as a person becomes an object of appetite for another, all motives of moral relationship cease to function” (Lectures on Ethics). Kant viewed sexual desire as bad, whereas in Plato, sexual desire is a good thing. Kant believed that sex was the personification of a spiritual relationship made into a material one, and objected on the basis that, like Pauline and Augustinian conviction, that original sin is somehow associated with sexual desire (see: concupiscence).

Although, pausing to think about it, I’m not so sure Kant’s categorical understanding quite fits the scenario we are to consider here, since sex is involved. Perhaps, if the relationship we were asked to ponder was merely based on physical lust, and nothing else, then the immorality of lustful coveting would make the desire to take on another partner (when one is already in a committed relationship) an immoral, certainly unethical, act. If one is not in a committed relationship, then there is no harm and no foul. Likewise, however, the obsessive desire to keep someone to themselves, thereby objectifying them as something to be had rather than an autonomous individual, making them into a sex slave, would also be unethical. As such, it seems to me that Kant’s categorical understanding is complicated by a scenario where genuine sexual love, founded on real love, is shared by multiple partners. Kant’s categorical imperative, as he applies it to sex, becomes horribly obscured and breaks down.

One such cause of confusion in relating Kant’s ethics to theories, such as expressivism, is that it is easy, but mistaken, to suppose that the categorical nature of the imperative means that it cannot be the expression of a sentiment, but must derive from something ‘unconditioned’ or ‘necessary’ such as the voice of reason (Oxford Dictionary of Philosophy, 2^nd Edition, 2008).

The reason it is important to bring this up is because, as with the case for sexual love, we must be careful to pay close attention to the difference between biological love and the ideal of romantic psychological love, and how each form of love are expressed. Indeed, what is love if not the expression of a sentiment? A sentiment stemming from our biological urges and conditioning—as much of modern courtship has to do with sexual selection of a mate as much as the modern notion that we, as mates, should desire mutual love and respect. So here is the problem Kant runs into, and so we must keep it in the back of our minds, knowing that Kant was mostly wrong with regard to sex—sexual love is not a degradation of human nature, but an expression of a more fundamental sort of love (biology giving way to chemistry—body and mind), and furthermore, maybe the moral foundation for a moral relationship is not voided.

[We know Kant is wrong here because, to take his line of reasoning, we’d assume wrongly about the nature of monogamous marriage being the only moral, socially acceptable, form of relationship. Also, we’d be wrong about the very nature of sexual love, to think that biological sex is somehow evil, because it would be denying our innate nature, a grave ethical mistake for the following reasons.

Consider the animal kingdom, where statistical survival is predicated largely on the size of the litter. It seems that in early times this was true for humans as well, and so this alone, disproves Kant’s theory. Biological sex in itself is not only necessary, but vital to our animal survival, and so is highly desirable. If humans forfeited the right to reproduce because the connotation of sexual love (biological sex) was wrong, then we would have forfeited the moral obligation to survive as a species. Thus, if the categorical imperative did have anything to say about sexual love it would actually contradict Kant’s reasoning—as we find that survival takes a higher moral priority (the good of the many outweighing the good of the one), and so sex, and so too sexual love, is morally desirable.

Assuredly, we know that Kant’s thinking with regard to sex is flawed, as it was most likely prejudiced by his own personal biases (e.g., early 18^th century Eurocentric/Christian influenced attitudes toward sex). Another objection is that Kant’s understanding of marriage was skewed. Marriage is a social construct, plain and simple, and it is not a metaphysical privilege granted us by a higher moral authority (a better understanding of the history of marriage proves such a presumption erroneous). We know this because marriages were traditionally a means to economic stability, not human happiness. So again it would seem the moral imperative suggest survival above tradition (i.e., that the desire to have sex is morally superior to the desire to practice any social form of marriage). Also, because of Kant’s Eurocentrism (as mentioned above), he mainly views monogamy as the only version of marriage which contains any ethical values—wrongly assuming that in any other relationship model these ethical values would just fall out. As we have seen, however, this is a major misconception. The ethical values are frequently overlapping, even shared, between competing relationship models—just as we saw when juxtaposing monogamy and polyamory.]

Moral Catch-22

If I say yes to my wife’s insistence on taking on another lover, do I allow her to relinquish her pledge of fidelity to me? Or do I insist that she make a choice, either him or me? What seems more fair? I for one find neither scenario compelling. On the one hand, I do not want to lose my wife, because I love her, and on the other hand, I want to do everything in my power to make her happy, as my love of her demands.

This is extremely complicated. Scenario A) I keep my pledge of fidelity while allowing her to have multiple relationships (i.e., this is called polyandry). Scenario B) I withhold her right to make her own decisions, to pursue happiness, and hold her to the fulfillment of her initial pledge of fidelity to me (as Kant’s reasoning would dictate—albeit incorrectly). Scenario C) I make a self sacrifice, and take myself out of the equation, allowing her to pursue her happiness without interfering with her life choices. Scenario D) I allow it and expect equal rights and privileges with regard to my own happiness and we agree upon a more open relationship involving a group marriage (i.e., this is known as polyamory).

Right away we can see that scenario B is immoral. I do not have the right to limit another person’s pursuit of happiness, nor do I own the right to dictate the terms in what level of happiness a person ought to have. Expecting my wife to disregard her feelings entirely based on my own selfish concerns is not moral. What’s more, holding her in bondage to me, knowing it would decrease her level of happiness, and maybe even cause her grief, would be sponsoring her misery—and this is an immoral act. So we must eliminate choice B entirely.

Equally as problematic is choice C. Although it is a noble sentiment to sacrifice oneself out of love for another, it is not always the most practical means to achieve the best moral outcome. I must consider my wife’s feelings, because if I didn’t I would have resolved any moral obligation to her whatsoever. Accordingly, I must acknowledge the fact that she hasn’t ceased loving me. Rather, she is merely in love with two men simultaneously. Thus, taking myself out of the equation might mean I inadvertently cause her more grief than deserved, and although she would probably learn to cope (a hope not a guarantee), and her new relationship may eventually replace the emotional void I would leave in my wake (again, without any guarantee), it seems the act of doing so requires an immoral action on my behalf. The question becomes, is it morally permissible to allow a wrong to make a right? Maybe if the good of the many outweighed the good of the few, but when there is no real statistical difference, as it seems with this case, then it appears that it would not be morally permissible to risk breaking her heart and causing her unwarranted grief. Therefore, it seems scenario C must also be eliminated.

This leaves of with scenario A (polyandry) or scenario D (polyamory) as being the best remaining moral choices.

The catch-22 then is that both choices make it obligatory that I allow my wife to retract her promise of fidelity toward me. And as we know, breaking a promise is not entirely moral, but it’s not entirely immoral either, just as telling a white lie for good reasons is not entirely immoral. If you have foreknowledge that breaking a promise would, in turn, actually bring the other person greater happiness, then it would be permissible to do so. Indeed, this is the very hypothetical situation we find ourselves in.

One last possible objection might be that a person believes, as Kant did, that breaking an oath of fidelity is immoral, period, thus by allowing another to retract the promise we commit the same moral offense. Understandably then, it would seem, the most reasonable solution is to simply avoid such a situation, which means never to fall in love in the first place. Yet such a demand is wholly impractical, not to mention unrealistic, and so we can be sure that such an expedient means is not the best solution to this moral challenge.

Unforeseen Consequences

Some may interject, but what about your own happiness? If you say that causing unnecessary grief is not morally desirable, aren’t you being hypocritical by causing yourself grief and unhappiness? Indeed, this is the other part of the catch-22, which is why such a hypothetical situation is not so easily resolved. In fact, most moral considerations are not easily settled. What I would argue here is that I have to weigh my wife’s happiness against my own. Meanwhile, I cannot forget the third party’s happiness. By denying my wife her choice to be with another man, am I, in effect, making them both unhappy? For me, what this means is that their combined happiness outweighs my own, and therefore, given the situation, polyandry and polyamory, remain justifiable.

Another potential objection would be if, someday, in this hypothetical narrative, I too met another special someone but my wife (for some reason) objected to my being with her. If my happiness is denied while my wife’s happiness is permitted, as a result, this would set up a double standard. Her level of happiness plus her partners happiness being equal to my level of unhappiness plus my partners unhappiness (2H + -2H = 0), and the two competing relationships cancel each other out (in terms of happiness). This is assuming we desired to live a happy life while maintaining meaningful and emotionally satisfying relationships. Of course it is conceivable that apathy toward individual happiness could make the double standard livable, we are concerned with whether or not it is morally permissible.

All things being equal, however, the moral precedent being set (i.e., not to cause unnecessary grief or unhappiness), a double standard creates a moral impasse. Therefore the only recourse would be to terminate the relationship. Which is why jealously, possessiveness, and obsession are not permitted in polyamorous relationship models, mainly because they are emotions which breed unethical behavior. If my wife did not contain a jealous streak, she would not likely object, and then there would be no destructive double standard, and a polyamorous group marriage would become morally permissible. The circle of fidelity, then, would expand to encompass the group.

One last objection we could raise is, if we can just change the parameters of fidelity so easily, then doesn’t it lose all of its meaning? In other words, if we are permitted to just keep admitting new lovers into the group, expanding the boundaries of the group marriage, where does it end? This is the biggest difficulty I have with polyamorous group marriage models—I don’t know how to regulate growth. Personally, I do not have a clear-cut answer to overcome this obstacle, but at the same time, I do not see anything overtly immoral about changing the size of the circle.

Whether the agreement is made between one couple, or a trio, or four amigos, to practice fidelity I do not see how fidelity itself loses any meaning. It seems to me that fidelity represents either loyalty or faithfulness to a person, cause, or belief. Where relationships are concerned, expanding fidelity from the micro scale of monogamous couple to the group brings us to tribal loyalty. Increasing it more still takes us to the macro scale and connotes a sense of nationalism. Religion employs such scales of fidelity as well, talking about a personal relationship with God, then loyalty and dedication the church, and then to the faith as a whole.

In any case, it seems the only thing that changes is the size of the fidelity circle. Even so, the circle does seem to stop—eventually. If I had to take a guess as to why the circle of loyalty eventually stops, I would say that once the group expands beyond a certain size, the similarities and interests shared within the group begin to coalesce, and this in turn generates certain biases against divergent interests and unfamiliarity in general. And this is where the line is likely to be drawn. That said, even with the hypothetical example, there are not likely to be that many perfect mates, even though I am pretty certain the number has to be greater than one. As such, we might assume that the fidelity circle can encompass small groups just fine—without losing its meaning.

Conclusion

After weighing all possible scenarios, and considering the question from various angles, I have come to the conclusion that, in the spirit of non-possessiveness (possessiveness being a form of coveting—thus immoral), allowing my wife to retract her promise of fidelity is morally superior to increasing the grief or inflicting unhappiness on another (whether intentionally or not). Yet considered with the moral implications with regard to my own happiness, and wanting to avoid potential double standards, I would expect the same gesture to be returned in full. Therefore, I would allow my wife, continuing to trust in her better judgment, the unrestricted choice to love whom she will. I cannot hope to dictate who she loves, or she me, and any action on our behalf to try to do so would be immoral.

Reality Check

Above is merely the logical, rational, conclusion one is to make if they are merely concerned with the best possible moral outcome—according to the hypothetical situation. Yet as a flesh and blood human being, swayed by powerful emotions, I cannot say that the best moral outcome for the groups is always the most desirable for the individual. Although, I am willing to admit, because of my social conditioning, I could very well be mistaken. I assume that if all relationships were polyamorous, and group marriage was the norm, then I would probably be highly skeptical of monogamy. It would seem weird to me, just as I now think the concept of polyamory seems weird.

Honestly, I think it would be an interesting experiment to try a group marriage, to see if it works just as well as a monogamous marriage. But in reality, however, that is not an experiment I can try. For one, as I mentioned at the beginning, my wife does (to no fault of her own) have a jealous streak, and would never allow such a thing. However, by the off chance that I did meet someone who was even better suited to me as a mate and life partner than my current wife, then the question becomes how do I test that without causing my wife, who is jealous, undeserved heartache? In reality, I do not think it is possible, given our personality types, to even attempt such an experiment. In which case, I would be content to maintain the current overall happiness of my family over my individual happiness—as that would be the highest moral good.

Do You Practice Moral Relativism?

I do believe the practice of morality is mainly relative whether or not absolute morality exists (see: moral sense theory). Rather I view moral relativism as the methodology for testing various moral constructs (Jamesian pragmatic morality). Moral relativism is basically what we do when we engage each other (see: social constructivism) and morality is the artifact of these interactions (see: social constructionism).


My own personal form of morality is a form of reliablism (see Michael Bishop), appended to a utilitarian based social constructivism, buttressed with Buddhist philosophical insights (many which denote a type of methodological pluralism) and reinforced by mutual corresponding theories (i.e., other appreciations).


As I said, there is no single theory I subscribe to, but the combination of various moral philosophies, networked together, forming a modular moral model, work just as well if not better than Christian concepts of morality. Finally, it's worth reiterating that Christianity, as well as other "religions of the book," are limited by a dogmatic creed confined to one archaic text. Which, as a consequence, forces Christians (and other religious believers) to either become relativists themselves (rejecting the bad bits and cherry-picking only the best), or else strict legalists (fundamentalists who interpret the law to the letter). Personally, I find such religious dogma to be counter-productive, and often times harmful, when it comes to moral considerations and ethical concerns.

Appreciations are the Way (My Personal Tao)

Marriage, Fidelity, and on Buddhism

Yes, it is an eclectic series of topics. I was asked a few questions by the Christian author of the blog Wide as the Waters. Obviously I felt they were good questions, so without further delay, here are the questions:

What is your opinion of Christian morality regarding sexual fidelity both before and after marriage?

What about it’s constraints concerning homosexuality? I am just curious how your views of those issues track with those of other atheists.

Also, regarding your wife’s Buddhism, do you think Buddhism presents an accurate view of human nature and reality? Why?

Just as a preface, I’d like to remind my readers that I like to think that I have a unique insight to both the Christian position and secular position with regard to these questions. This month I turned 31 years old, and it marks the one year anniversary of my deconversion from Christianity. Now, with respect to the questions, I am going to come right out and say it, atheism has nothing to say on these subjects as it is not a belief system in and of itself. Rather, I find that atheism is the end product of critical thinking, free inquiry, scientific reasoning, and a healthy skepticism. Yet that does not mean my atheism cannot be informed by other appreciations (which I’ll get to momentarily).

Bygone Times: God wants your sons and daughters—not your vegetables!

First, I will begin by making a short statement about homosexuality. When it comes to being a homosexual I am fairly ignorant. I do not know what it is like to be a homosexual anymore than I know what it is truly like to be a woman. Likewise, I do not know what it means to be a black man or an Eskimo, or any other race or gender. Of course, I know many homosexuals, and this year I have learned a lot about it from a gay friend who helped clear up some misconceptions I had. At any rate, what we need to realize that homosexuality is not the way a person chooses to act or behave, but rather, it is how they are made. It’s genetic, it’s natural, and the more comfortable you are with that fact the less likely you will be to make the mistake that homosexuality is anything but an alternative—and prevalent—biological condition. If you can’t accept the fact that homosexuality is a natural condition, then it’s up to you to explain why the past fifty years of genetic research is wrong and you are right.

When it comes to Christianity, however, I firmly feel that the Christian policy with regard to homosexuality is just as ill-conceived as the Christian policy of what to do to Jews who pick up sticks on a Saturday. It appears the Biblical attitude toward homosexuals stems from a Bronze aged mentality. This primitive mentality is consistently being reflected in scripture as well as Christian thought. But it is this archaic thinking, in fact, for why the morality of the Bible is not compatible with today’s evolved moral concerns.

If the Bible is to be considered a moral source, let alone a moral authority, it has to do better than representing the blinkered thinking of goat herders. The God of the Bible, both OT and NT, demands blood sacrifice. This reeks of a primitive, nomadic, goat herding era when blood sacrifice dominated the thinking and acted as a covenant between men and God (i.e., a spurious supernatural claim at best). Purity and cleansing rituals were part of the desert lifestyle, and this finds its way into the religious rites and rituals of early Judaism. If the Christian God was all knowing, however, he would have saw fit to teach his people how to set up agricultural farms, with fully functioning irrigation aqueducts, and so forth. After all, the technology did exist back then. Herod the great made great use of aquifers and aqueducts when he built Caesarea. But no, instead of sacrificing a bushel of carrots, asparagus, and a healthy courgette to the God of the Hebrews, goats were slaughtered and occasionally virgin maidens, just for good measure.

Needless to say, the meat eating culture of a pre-agricultural era requires extensive kosher rules. After all, eating meat gone bad would make one deathly ill. If you’ve ever had a bout of food poisoning, then you’ll know exactly what I mean (believe me when I say it’s not fun). Much of these cleansing rituals were therefore built into the sandy desert lifestyle by necessity, not only because of larger hygienic and dietary health concerns, but also because of the limitations of such a lifestyle. Likewise, families had to be large because so many died out due to illness, starvation, etc. Food needed to be safe for consumption, because if not it could mean your own death—since a fever ridden bout of food poisoning on the desert trail—with no water—would surely be the end of you. Bodies needed to be as clean as possible, because the spread of a flu bug in close knit tribal groups would spread so rapidly that it could threaten to wipe out the entire lot. One haphazard sneeze, and God’s chosen people could have vanished off the face of the Earth.

So when we talk about morality, we need to distinguish between the pre-modern moral concerns of a Bronze age and the moral concerns of a modern age like our own. A simple question will illustrate better my point: Are we to believe that the God of the entire universe and all creation just, as a happy coincidence, supported the primitive cleansing rituals of his chosen people? Or is it more likely that these rituals appear to be inbuilt into the religion because the people themselves devised methods and ways which helped them cope with the harsh conditions of a difficult time in human history? I bring this up only because this is the very mentality we are dealing with when it comes to questions about marriage, sexuality, and the like. Therefore it is important to keep these considerations in mind.

For these reasons, and many more like them, I believe anything the Bible says about homosexuality (and sexuality in general) is antiquated. Most of the notions contained in the cleansing rituals and rights of the early Hebrews are simply defunct. We know how to procure pork safely now, and so there is no longer any dietary reason why Muslims or Jews, or anyone for that matter, ought to abstain from consuming pork, except, that it was written down as an authoritative bit of scriptural law. This insight, however, gives explanation for why there are still religious people who believe homosexuality is a “sin.” Because it is written in their holy books as an authoritative law which must not be transgressed—and thus you get Westboro Baptist nut jobs clinging to an outmoded Bronze aged mentality, with a defunct morality, as they attempt to bring it kicking and screaming into the 21^st century. More specifically though, you get moderate Christians thinking homosexuality is a sickness, or form of disease, spurred on by a sinful lifestyle rather than what it really is—a natural born condition—a fact of life.

Personally, I think such an observation is just too evident to miss, but many Christians, or Christian off-shoots like Mormonism, continue to demonize the homosexual (e.g., Prop 8). My question is this: If your God could be wrong about the “sin” of eating pork, what makes you so sure he’s not wrong about homosexuality too? 

It is sort of like the religious who defend circumcision, denying that it is the mutilation of small children’s genitals, because it has since proved to have medically supported hygienic benefits (e.g., it’s easier to keep clean. Although, I guarantee, any medical professional today will simply tell you there is no noticeable benefits to circumcision and will remind you that it’s “highly controversial”). They may even try to pass off this rather lame fact as a sign of God’s wisdom shining through the pages of two thousand year old scripture, but that’s just absurd. Anyone who has read the Bible knows that circumcision was part of a larger blood sacrifice ritual, based on the Jewish law of ‘mitzvah aseh, a sort of marker used for delineating those who shared the covenant with the Hebrew God, the tribe of Abraham (Gen. 17:10), from those who didn’t. It was a way to identify God’s chosen few.

Let’s not kid ourselves, originally this blood ritual had nothing to do with the medical benefits of personal hygiene—especially since the traditional method of circumcision was for the rabbi to bite off the pre-cut foreskin of the penis with his teeth—there is nothing hygienic about it. It’s all about the blood and the religious belief that it would set you right with God. That’s a superstitious basis for a horribly barbaric, and disgusting, act. Not to mention that it is a barbaric custom in violation of Human Rights—so much so that Sweden felt compelled to outlaw circumcision in 2001.

What sane person would then turn around and say, well all that may be true, those things like blood sacrifice and what not are outdated, but the part about homosexuality still rings true. No, I’m afraid the Bible, and Christians in general, are wrong about homosexuality being a moral disease.

That said, not all Christians view homosexuality as a disease. Indeed, there are even gay and lesbian churches today, and there are even lesbian ministers! Now if you feel this is an abomination, and a disgrace to your faith, then I would suggest you put down your bibles and start reading some biology books instead—because until you do the only thing you’re going to prove is your own appalling ignorance. My advice to Christians is to simply ignore the parts of the Bible which condemn homosexuality just as you continue to ignore the parts of the Bible which condemn eating pork. They are equally non-issues when considered from the vantage point of today’s modern understanding of the world.

Marriage and Fidelity

Now that I have brought your attention to the outmoded mentality driving certain moral injunctions within the Bible, I can come back to the question about marriage and fidelity.

What is your opinion of Christian morality regarding sexual fidelity both before and after marriage?

Before I share my thoughts on this, we need to settle on some definitions, as to add clarity to thought. First of all, fidelity is: faithfulness to a person, cause, or belief, demonstrated by continuing loyalty and support. (Oxford Dictionary of English, 2005)

Also, I should caution against mistaking fidelity for some kind of purity myth, because it is not about chastity. In fact, purity myths and virgin fetishes, something common to religious thinking and practice, are often harmful to society—especially to women.

Furthermore, we should be careful not to confuse fidelity with the tradition of monogamy. Monogamy stands for: the practice [or habit] of marrying and being married to one person at a time. (Oxford Dictionary of English, 2005)

Traditional marriage was not meant as a means of happiness. In the Biblical sense, marriage was a means to an end. Women were viewed as chattel, property of the man, to be sold and bartered with. This enterprise ensured that the household would remain strong, and marrying women off to wealthier men, or men of higher class, was a way to ensure the overall family's economic stability and continued existence. Hence women were chattel, dowries were bartered, organized marriages were planned, and bargains were struck.

When it comes to Christian marriage and secular non-Christian marriage, we need to realize there is relatively little difference in terms of traditional practice. China had dowries the same as Jews did. Women, regardless of where they were born, were the unlucky heirs to a patriarchal tradition. I need not remind you of the Biblical passages which enslave a defiled woman to her rapist (Deuteronomy 22:28-29), claim her value is equal to that of only fifty pieces of silver, or give husbands and fathers the right to murder a woman for being raped against her will (Deuteronomy 22:23-24). The God of the OT allowed his people to keep women as sex slaves (Exodus 21:7-11) and on occasion even commanded the rape of women (Zechariah 14:1-2). Yet it is no simple task to divorce the God of old biblical authority from the God of new biblical authority. Jesus did not put a stop to the end of slavery, nor did he amend his Father’s immoral, sexist, and misogynistic laws regarding women. Even so, Jesus did preach a form of monogamy.

I’ll come back to the subject of monogamy shortly, but first I should point out that Christianity has a long sordid history with oppressing women and suppressing women’s rights. Annie Laurie Gaylor, feminist crusader and founder of the Freedom from Religion Foundation, reminds us:

The various Christian churches fought tooth and nail against the advancement of women, opposing everything from women’s right to speak in public, to the use of anesthesia in childbirth (since the bible says women must suffer in childbirth) and woman’s suffrage. Today the most organized and formidable opponent of women’s social, economic and sexual rights remains organized religion. (Annie Laurie Gaylor, Nontract #10, “Why Women Need Freedom From Religion,” Available online.)

Nowadays, Islam gets more blame for its oppressive policies against women, but Christianity is not without blame. A 2009 study at Baylor University showed that Women are still made the sexual targets of male clergy and of faith leaders in general. Perhaps more controversial still, according to a 2008 Barna report, Christians have higher divorce rates than atheists and other non-believing secularists. All this seems to suggest that we should perhaps take it with a grain of salt whenever a Christian starts talking about the “sanctity of marriage.” Apparently, it’s anything but.

Monogamy, it seems, goes against our biological conditioning. In fact, many cultures do not practice monogamy but, instead, practice polygamy (e.g., Muslim Arabs, certain African tribes such as the Sudanese and Ethiopians, Egyptians, and early Mormon frontiers folk of America, and some cultures even practice polyamory). Christianity adheres to the concept that God made woman for man, thus creating Eve from Adam’s rib (although this is not without controversy either). Marriage later gets conditioned into a symbolic sacrament, a representation of being married in Christ, as taught by early church fathers such as Augustine (who condemned polygamy). Augustine noted that although fornication was permissible among the ancient fathers, it was no longer permissible in his day, and he viewed monogamy as a more covenant-friendly practice (i.e., marriage between one man and one woman helped to fulfill God’s commandment to his people to be fruitful and multiply).

One of Christianity’s biggest experiments in trying to curb the human biological urge to mate with multiple partners has been an abstinence only policy—but a 2008 study in the Journal of Policy Analysis and Management found that there was no significant impact of abstinence only policies on teen sexual activity. Additionally, a similar report by the U.S. Mathematica Policy Research showed that abstinence only policies are not only an abysmal failure—but it also found that youth in these programs were no more likely to have unprotected sex. None-the-less, Christian organizations such as Focus on the Family continue to push abstinence only problems—and continue to put their children at risk by doing so.

Contrary to the conservative opinions that abstinence only education prevents sexual promiscuity, which it doesn’t, it seems that the opposite is true. Healthy and mature sex positive education does improve our sexual understanding and views sex in a positive light, thus reducing the guilt—related to the heavily stigmatized religious premarital “sex is sin” myth which runs unchecked in Christianity—thus allowing for healthier, more responsible, sexual relationships.

Coming back to marriage, we cannot deny that sexual attraction plays a large part our desire to get married (as sexual selection is part of our biological existence). Our emotional love is mostly predicated on our mutual compatibility and physical attraction to another person—basic brain chemistry times biology. In modern times, however, our deeper affections (i.e., romantic love) also seem to play a large role in the reasons people give for desiring to marry.

Marriage is, by today’s standards, an expression of one’s love for another. If two people in love want to use the custom of marriage as a symbol of union, exclusivity, or fidelity—then this is an expression which should not be denied them. To deny anyone the right to marry is basically to deny them the right to love who they will how they will—and such would be criminal. We cannot dictate who people should love or by what standard—yet religion seeks to try and do just this.

My conclusion is that marriage is merely a social construct, a social construct which is indistinguishable from other forms of relationships in terms of what each values. After all, most Americans don’t actually practice monogamy, but a form of monogamy called serial-monogamy. What this means is that they practice multiple short-term relationships, marry a lover, maintain a monogamous lifestyle for a time, and then divorce and do it again. Sometimes this is not by plan or design, sometimes divorce is necessary (e.g., battered wives escaping abusive husbands is one example of many which spring to mind). Many of my evangelical Christian cousins, even my own Christian mother, who are all extremely conservative (unlike me) have all been divorced more than twice and are on their second and third marriages, respectably. The 37% divorce rate among mainstream Christians, as the above Barna poll showed, suggests that over a quarter of Christians in America may also practice serial-monogamy rather than traditional monogamy.

When it comes to relationship models, I personally do not see any moral distinction between one social construct and another, whether it polygamy, polyandry, polyamory, monogamy and so forth, they are merely variant relationship models based within the same ethical playing field. This is not a controversial statement, mind you. None-the-less those who are more conservative will be inclined to disagree—but that’s to be expected as that’s the very definition of conservatism—disagreeing to proposed changes and alternative lifestyles and or worldviews. Regardless of what model you practice, it has been my experience that most successful adult relationships are predicated on fidelity and loyalty, communication and negotiation, trust, honesty, dignity, gender equality, non-possessiveness, mutual support, sharing domestic burdens and so on (you may be surprised to learn that these are the values within polyamory, not monogamy, although some of the values are overlapping).

For me there is no more romantic an ideal than true love, fidelity involves the promise, or personal pledge, that you will be loyal only to one, and one, person—basically it is the promise to maintain this true love. In fact, it is such a compelling notion primarily because we all desire it. We all want to be loved. I suspect we all want to be the object of somebody else’s undying love. Not only is the sheer concept emotionally satisfying, it is also an attempt to actualize an ideal.

Once you find your dream partner, your perfect match, and you both fall madly in love—fidelity is a promise you make to each other. It is a noble and beautiful, heartwarming, sentiment. It is such a powerful sentiment, so powerful in fact, that it sets the stage for every romance and drama which has ever been acted out—it is about the one true love. It is why Romeo and Juliet defied the social norms, went against tradition, and rebelled against the rules of their parents. It is the reason Helen ran away with Paris. It is the reason Tristan and Iseult risked it all to be together. It is the reason Harry met Sally. True love. Powerful stuff.

But is such an ideal even possible to achieve given our limitations and the human propensity to err? Probably not, but that doesn’t make the ideal any less meaningful.

The bottom line is this: marriage is only allotted the meaning we supply to it. But then again, marriage is not for everyone. There is nothing in the rule book which says we are all destined to end up with our perfect mate. Most will never be so lucky. As the Journey song says: “some were born to win, others to lose, and, some were born to sing the blues.”

As a romantic, I cannot help but be proud to commit myself fully to my wife—I for one believe in the ideal—I believe true love, whether or not it is within reach, is an ideal worth striving for. Marriage for me, then, is a way to express my fidelity to the most wonderful woman I have ever known. Although I speak only for myself, I for one agree with the English poet Alfred Lord Tennyson, “'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”

Other Worldviews: On Buddhism

The question was:

Do you think Buddhism presents an accurate view of human nature and reality? Why?

In short, yes and no. There are different types of Buddhism just as there are different types of Christianity. While I do not believe in the supernatural claims of reincarnation, I do think that Buddhism teaches a practical methodology for addressing specific real world concerns, like why do we suffer and how to alleviate the suffering. I could go on and on about Buddhism, but like any belief system, I believe in taking the best parts, or what I call appreciations, and leaving the defunct and useless parts behind. Whether it is a religion or a political policy, I think we can always improve our understanding, and in turn, we must amend outmoded beliefs or defective practices and policies if we want to improve things.

What I like about Buddhism, is that it isn’t afraid to adapt itself with modernity. Christianity is much like Buddhism in this regard. Christianity has a unique ability to adapt itself to various worldviews in various cultures at various times. The difference is that I do not find the Christian teachings all that practical—certainly not all that much more beneficial than any other world philosophy—that is to say I don’t buy into any one ancient form of wisdom. To me they are all valid. Whether or not they are all applicable is a different matter entirely.

Christianity has other problematic elements which confound its practicality as well. The entire concept of sin is extremely problematic. The entire claim hinges on proving certain metaphysical assumptions, involving an archaic fable with a talking snake, and even then the entire concept of sin is not well defined. The Bible even fails to demarcate sin with any accuracy. For example, the Bible says not to kill others, that murder is a sin, it’s even God’s first commandment! But in the next instance in the next few verses God is commanding you to kill those who do not obey the Sabbath. So go figure.

Buddhism is less confusing—certainly less conflicting. There’s no pesky deity to get in the way of its teachings or confound your moral sense as with the Christian God. Buddhism gives you the four noble truths and the noble eight fold path and a certain amount of freedom to interpret the reality you observe without having to resort to making metaphysical assumptions. It allows a clarity which is not distorted by the desire to appease any god, but rather, gain a better understanding of the world and the human condition.

In his book What the Buddha Taught, Walpola Rahula states, "Buddhism recognizes that humans have a measure of freedom of moral choice, and Buddhist practice has essentially to do with acquiring the freedom to choose as one ought to choose with truth: that is of acquiring a freedom from the passions and desires that impel us to distraction and poor decisions."

I could say a lot more on Buddhism, but perhaps I’ll save it for another time.

Appreciations are the Way (My Personal Tao)

Apostasy is just another way of saying I am no longer be a believer chained to any particular religious creed, even so, this doesn’t mean I can’t borrow the best bits from various faiths, ideologies, and other belief systems and apply them to my own life accordingly. In fact, I believe this may be the best, most reasonable, way to gradually improve my life—literally by taking the best appreciations and using the best philosophies I can find and utilizing them perchance creating a better model of living without the defects (i.e., outmoded and/or blinkered bits) of inferior belief systems and ideologies. 

In a way, I’m creating new forms of morality by testing already proved forms of moral values and ethical guidelines. I mean, isn’t this what Christians do when they cherry-pick from the Bible? Yes, it’s the very same thing. It's moral relativism. The only difference is my moral relativism is not limited to the confines of just one book (a conflicted book at that). I have an entire realm of ideologies and philosophies to choose from—that is to say—I have an unlimited supply of appreciations I can select from and then apply to my life. It’s a work in progress, involves researching and making educated decisions, involves some trial and error, involves revision, adaptation, evolution, but I’m glad to report that it’s been working splendidly so far.

Why Do Christians De-Convert?

It's an interesting question. Indeed, why do Christians de-convert? I do not suspect the answers to be easy to come by. Even so, this subject has been raised on a Christian site I frequent, and I thought it worth discussing here. 


According to one Christian:

Interestingly the fact that many would walk away from their faith is anticipated by Jesus Himself. He gave three reasons why people walk away from their faith:


1. Spiritual opposition.
2. Persecution.
3. The desire for material pleasures. – Mark 4:13-20

These reasons comport with observations I have made with many interactions I have had with atheist converts. They never merely reject Christianity but they always reject Christian morality as well. It’s never a case where they persist in the lifestyle Christian beliefs require (sexual purity, self-control, self-sacrificial relationships, etc) and only reject its truth claims. And it isn’t necessary for this to be so; they themselves often argue that they are equally moral to Christians. And yet they invariably adopt lifestyles that are morally antagonistic to Christianity. I think it is no coincidence that atheist converts are mostly young men whose lives are most driven by their selfish passions, and who are most willing to subvert belief to desire... The ‘need and desire’ Christianity doesn’t fulfill, and can’t, is the freedom to sleep around guilt free or live a lifestyle that is gratuitously selfish. And as much as these desires drive the choices of young men they provide a strong motivation for rejecting Christianity. I also note that a lot of these guys when they get older and marry and have children are much less antagonistic. They may not return to Christianity, but they certainly don’t see it as the enemy they did of their youth. This isn’t universally true but is often the case for men I see in committed long term relationships with healthy families.

In the end I can only speak from what I observe – but as the intellectual case for materialistic atheism seems to have uncontestable [sic] weaknesses and Christianity is more than rational in it’s understanding both of the natural world and as a foundation for human flourishing, I am inclined to conclude that rejection of Christianity is more often a product fulfilling one’s passions than it is of intellectual satisfaction.

This however, I find, is limited in scope.  Personally, I think the criticism may be applicable to some atheists some of the time. But after reading through the list of (Biblically supported) reasons for why some Christians *think others deconvert and leave Christianity, the more I find that either I am a grand exception or the above generalization isn’t encompassing enough. 

Contrary to the above opinion about atheists and their wild ravenous, lusting, sexual promiscuity I have been with the same woman (my wife) for eight years (and we've been happily married for four of them). We have a beautiful daughter. And I don’t have the time nor luxury to sleep around because of my devotion to my family. Not that would ever want to.

My deconversion hinged on my love and passion for Jesus and then, equally, my love and compassion for my wife and who she was as both a Japanese and a free thinking secular Buddhist.

First, in my Christian youth my passion burned for Jesus, I was filled to the brim with the Holy Spirit, I was a Campus Crusader for Christ, I was a Bible camp counselor, was a youth leader in my local church, was part of numerous Christian charities, I helped organize and partook in various youth retreats with the aim of enhancing the bonds of Christian fellowship across the U.S., I wrote Christian apoplogetics on my blog called “The Chronicles of a Sympathetic Christian,” and so on. All this was because I burned with a passion to bring the love of Christ to others.

My zealousy got the better of me though… because I wasn’t satisfied with the stained glass, pristine, Jesus which was being preached from the pulpit any longer. Even then I knew that such a figure was dressed up and/or molded to fit the pastor’s sermon. I knew deep down that such a personage was largely artificial–a Jesus partly evolved from scripture and partly from the collective imagination (i.e., parochiality) of our own devising. 

I felt the Holy Spirit compelling me toward a more intimate relationship with Christ. Therefore I embarked upon a personal spiritual journey to enhance my understanding and grow in my relationship with Jesus. I began by pursuing my desire to have the most intimate relationship possible with my Lord and Savior by learning about the real historical Jesus, the authentic man behind the Gospels, not the watered down Sunday school version. I was bound and determined to learn everything there was to learn about the Gospel Jesus.

Approximately 120 history books later the Jesus of history proved to be much more illusive and problematic than expected. In fact, the Jesus I knew and loved was not the same man as the real historical person. Not even close. The Jesus behind the Gospels (the Jesus which supplied my faith meaning) proved a romantic ideal, meanwhile the historical Jesus became impossible to demarcate. Suddenly the Jesus behind the Gospels vanished and like a sand castle on the beach washing out to sea.


Don’t mistake me, however, I’m not saying there wasn’t a real historical figure called Jesus the Christ. In fact, I believe there is enough internal evidence in the Gospels to make the case that there was a real person–but again, as I stated earlier, it’s relatively impossible to demarcate the historical Jesus. This means we can’t really define the Gospel Jesus as historical, since we don’t know what historical bits to delineate from the non-historical. That’s one of the biggest concerns I have as a historian.
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After that it is just a matter of familiarizing oneself with early Christian history. After which, I think all the clues point to a literary hypothesis based on a legendary figure. This mythologization is traceable, unlike the historicity of the real personage.

At any rate, just as soon as I realized there was no tangible figure to base my faith on, along with the cognitive dissonance certain analytical and historical concerns raised, it dwindled to practically nothing. Even so, my passion of getting to the truth outlived my faith. As it turns out, my faith failed me, not I it.

The second part of my deconversion was more involved as it involved me discovering that there was no genuine moral basis in my Christian belief system. The catalyst for this realization was me meeting my wife and her being of a different background, both culturally and with regard to religion as well. This of course raised other forms of cognitive dissonance, mostly dealing with the moral dynamics of a secular worldview vs. my Christian worldview. This raised new philosophical concerns I had never had to consider before, and it forced me into a very serious Outsider Test of Faith, of sorts.

To make a long story short my Christian moral precepts did not stand up to exacting scrutiny either and yielded no answers to the sorts of questions I was asking. Yet since my OTF involved real world consequences, I had to find a better more evolved, philosophically sturdy, moral system (or systems). 

Interestingly enough, many of the Christian values I held were already inherently a part of other belief systems. It was only a matter of assembling the best moral theories (admittedly a work still in progress) and getting mainly the same moral results minus the limitations of Christianity.

So you see, my journey from belief to nonbelief was mainly intellectual, but at the same time, there were emotional factors involved. Even so, most of the emotional factors were falsely presumed, i.e. I realized my wife's love was more real than the love I thought I was receiving from Christ, and then keeping this love depended on me learning to love--and frankly, my prior Christianity stifled any attempts to broaden my worldview and love others unhindered by theological concerns and dogma (granted more liberal Christians typically do not have this worry--which is why I suspect Fundamental evangelical Christians, such as I was, have a higher deconversion rate than liberal Christians and even Catholics). In a way, of a sort, I did end up rejecting Christian morality--but not because I wanted to live a heathenish lifestyle or anything of the sort. Rather, it wasn't compatible with my desire to encompass a broader worldview which allowed for a great compassion and understanding on my part--Christianity was just too insular and its morality was too primitive (i.e., reeked of tribalism of a goat herding age--which is to say Christian morality is entrenched with a simplistic Bronze aged mentality restricted by conventional dogmas).

Well, that's my deconversion process in a nutshell. Granted, the finer points of the arguments which ultimately convinced me atheism makes more sense than theism are much more nuanced, naturally. But even so, as Paul Harvey would quip, now you know the rest of the story.