"Religion for Atheists"

Alain de Botton's new book "Religion for Atheists" is a bold attempt to convince atheists, or those who don't believe in the existence of God, that it is possible to derive important lessons from religions around the world without accepting any supernatural claims they might make. Mr. de Botton is unequivocal about his atheistic stance, and frankly says that he doesn't believe in any supernatural being or phenomenon. But this atheistic position that many people probably adopt today, he claims, should not prevent them from appreciating the effective ways religions have provided to meet what he calls the needs of souls that tend all too often to be left unattended in our secularized world but remain none the less existent.

Based on this central principle, he refers to various fields ranging from education to architecture and shows us how religions have traditionally interpreted or dealt with the problems typically associated with those fields. For example, we tend to assume that the purpose of education is to impart valuable information. Hence our puzzlement over a university lecture that focuses exclusively on certain obscure literary works of a foreign thinker who died several thousand years ago, however much importance its lecturer argues they have. This kind of situation happens because of the fact that education has forgotten its original mission: to fill the moral vacuum that was left by the ebbing of the influence of religion. Religions used to teach each of its adherents how to find happiness, how to deal with suffering, and how to become a better, mature person---a kind of therapeutic pedagogy, the need for which remains as strong as ever despite the fact that we are now living in a godless, secular world. Mr. de Botton therefore argues that education, especially in the field of humanities, should ideally provide a reasonable substitute.

Another field that he zeros in on is art. Mr. de Botton complains that the high esteem we hold museums in is made almost useless by our nonsensical prejudice that art should be only for its own sake. Religions have used works of art as important tools of reminding us of those qualities that we understand at heart are important but too often forget or fail to act upon, and have had no qualm about admitting art serves a utilitarian purpose, like that of enhancing our happiness or of healing our souls. This attitude is, according to Mr. de Botton, still relevant today, and should influence ways we appreciate works of art.

These considerations, provocative as they may be, are deeply interesting and thought-provoking. Some of his ideas, however, are more controversial. For instance, in a section on the contrast between libertarianism and paternalism, he says religious paternalism used to help people be better than they would have been left to their own devices, whereas libertarianism, in which people are permitted to do whatever they like as long as they are law abiders, leaves people at a loss for where to seek moral guidance. But it is precisely because one’s conviction that s/he has an infallible understanding of what is truly good or bad for humanity brought about tremendous bloodshed that our predecessors decided to enshrine the rights of individual freedom. Even if some aspects of paternalism are indeed appealing, it seems to be difficult to let go of the well-cherished principle that every individual is a sovereign over himself.

Another topic some might find unpalatable is his discussion of The Book of Job, which he claims is one of the most consoling texts for atheists. In this biblical story, Job, a wealthy, happy man, experienced a series of grave misfortunes, lost his children, his wealth and even his health. His neighbors said that he must have sinned and been punished, but he was convinced of his innocence and began to doubt the benevolence of God. At this point God admonished him for his haughtiness. Compared with the vastness of the universe and its mysteries, human beings were petty, insignificant creatures, and as such they had no qualification to fathom God’s intentions. After this admonition, Job came to realize the pettiness of human life and the nothingness of his own existence. This story, says Mr. de Botton, helps us, like Job, to realize how small and how insignificant our everyday troubles and sorrows are, in comparison with the grandeur of the universe. But if you notice an analogy between what Job experienced and the tsunami that people in the north eastern part of Japan went through last year, Mr. de Botton’s argument becomes less convincing. For how many would agree that those who got indignant at the disaster’s unfairness were arrogant for presuming to judge what’s fair and unfair? How many would say that the disastrous event, which claimed tens of thousands of innocent lives, reminded people of the smallness of their everyday desires and sufferings and the nothingness of their own existence? Very few, indeed.

Notwithstanding these controversial points, this book as a whole is an interesting attempt to add a new dimension to, and therefore stimulate, the otherwise insipid debates between the religious and the non-religious fundamentalists.

*************************

After getting a few insightful comments from a colleague of mine, I also wrote the following responses:

Well, maybe we all have some fear for the unknown, but those staunch atheists like Richard Dawkins would say that the very fear can be completely explained in Darwinian terms and does not need to be expressed in the form of awe or reverence for any supernatural being. As for the possibility of traditional religions taking back their former prestige, I am not sure whether it will happen so easily, since the ebbing of the influence of religion is not so recent a phenomenon. Over the past three hundred years science and reason have conspired to wage war against religion, as a result of which religion can never again enjoy the degree of credibility it once did, at least with respect to its supernatural tenets. Although I went to a Christian elementary school, I always wondered why dinosaurs didn't appear in biblical accounts of the beginning of this world or why the omnipotent and benevolent God had not created human beings in such a manner that they could resist the temptation to commit crimes, questions even gullible school children can now be fully aware of. That the influence of religion has been eclipsed by that of science, technology or whatever is also reflected in the fact that Obama referred to nonbelievers as a component of American citizens in his inaugural address. Intellectuals, even those who don’t describe themselves as atheists, can no longer believe in religion, at least not in the same way their ancestors did.

Dawkins would say all of this is a happy development that should be more widespread, a point which I am not so sure of. Iron intellectuals like him may easily accept the brute fact that human beings and their lives don’t have any ultimate purpose or meaning, that they came into existence for a completely accidental cause and might possibly die out for just as accidental a reason. But what of those softer and gentler people, who cannot face it without going insane or committing suicide? They must believe in at least something larger than themselves in order to live happily. Unfortunately, however, the progress of science and technology has made it difficult even for them to accept as literally true the basic tenets of traditional religions. So that’s why Bottonic attempt comes in handy. What traditional religions have taught might be wrong, or at least inaccurate from an objective point of view, but the ways their tenets and rituals have answered our inner needs can provide a good insight into human nature that we can use to make our lives happier and render the world better.

In a nutshell, the Bottonic claim is, as the title of the book implies, that the existence of God, miracles or supernatural phenomena is no essential element of religion, and that both religious fundamentalists and absolute atheists are beside the point in confusing the wheat with the chaff.

*****

Of course, my experience cannot be an effective indicator of what's happening in the West nor do I have any intention of claiming that we live in the atheist world. And it's also true that because de Botton is a British philosopher, of Jewish origin, he couldn't help having Westerners in mind when he wrote this book, though he also refers to the Buddhist tradition in many sections and at least pretends to write for a wider circle. But the timing of its publication implies that one of its purposes is to present a reasonable anti-thesis to Dawkins' logically powerful vision of an anti-religious world. His "God Delusion," which has become very popular and provoked so much controversy, is designed for not only intellectuals but also garden-variety agnostics or skeptics who, if they read it, cannot resist its argument even if they feel it intuitively disquieting. Indeed, to transform those people into devout atheists is the very purpose of that book. So even if the target de Botton homes in on is those run-of-the-mill moderately intellectual people, yet as they have already been exposed to Dawkinsian Atheism, he has no choice but to tackle Dawkinsian arguments at least at some level and provide an intellectual antidote to them. So, as you say, the readers he has in mind are not absolute atheists but moderate ones, but if he is to talk cogently to the latter, he must show that the former is not relevant and why.

The year 2011

The end of year is approaching. Looking back, this year has been extremely eventful. The 3.11 earthquake and tsunami devastated the north eastern part of Japan, leaving tens of thousands of people dead and missing. Not only that, the tsunami also dealt a fatal blow to the nuclear power plants in Fukushima, resulting in the worst nuclear disaster since Chernobyl. The lives of people across the nation have deeply been affected by the shortage of power and, more seriously, by a fear of radioactive materials. The words ordinary people had probably never heard of, like the rolling blackouts, cesium and iodine, have become familiar, along with the notorious gobbledygook “not immediately dangerous.” Not surprisingly, a large number of people have begun to throw doubt on the legitimacy of nuclear power itself, spurring a frenzy of debates about whether we shouldn’t jettison such a precarious source of electricity.

These considerations might tempt you to think that 2011 has been particularly eventful for Japan. Yes, Japan has experienced a great deal enough, but if you step back and look around the world, it’s obvious that the world too has witnessed its share of great historic moments. Especially, the Arab Spring, which began with the revolution in Tunisia and spread like wildfire around the Arab world, has been a dramatic development in that it has ousted infamous dictators who had long exploited their countries. The effect of this phenomenon has gone well beyond the region, influencing countries like China, which, fearing the same type of uprising in its midst, has enforced a stricter crackdown on those critical of the government.

You must also recall the death of the world most dangerous terrorist leader, Osama bin Laden, the mastermind of the 9.11 terror attack. That he had ensconced himself in a Pakistani town near Islamabad infuriated the U.S. government, who had long accused Pakistan of failing to provide full support to the U.S.-led war on terror. That the U.S. army conducted the operation to capture or kill bin Laden without consulting the Pakistani government caused ire among Pakistanis, who had denounced the CIA drone operation in the country’s terrorist safe haven as an infringement of its sovereignty. The relations between two countries have since deeply deteriorated.

Nor has this year been anticlimactic, for it was announced toward the end of this month that the dictator of North Korea, Kim Jong ill, passed away, a news that took people around the world by surprise. During Mr. Kim’s reign, the communist country, which some described as a remnant of the Cold War, had pursued its Songun (that is, military first) policy, resorting to many saber-rattling activities such as missile tests and nuclear development. Alternating between conciliatory and belligerent attitudes, Mr. Kim demonstrated to the world what brinkmanship was all about, as if to make a mockery of Japan, which, cowering before other countries, had failed in its diplomatic policies. The international community is now paying attention to his third son, Kim Jong un, who is the heir apparent and has been groomed by the elder Kim since 2008, when he reportedly suffered a stroke. That the younger Kim had been almost unknown before 2008, or that he is extremely young and probably inexperienced, has caused many experts to speculate over whether he can solidify his power enough to establish his status as the legitimate heir without appealing to any kind of power sharing.

Taken together, 2011 has seen such important developments, the influence of which will continue in the coming years or even decades, that the future historians might regard this year as a turning point in world history. But that’s anybody’s guess. Even if we could predict what impact they will have on the world from now on, we would have little power to change their course. As the 3.11 disaster mercilessly has shown, we are utterly helpless in the face of natural or historic currents. All we can do is live timorously, aware of our constant vulnerability but almost comically incapable of letting go of our mortal coils. Shorn of all the embellishments, that is what it means to live.

Another year will come, whether it is happy or not.

"Unknown"

I saw “Unknown,” starring Liam Neeson. Well, it was rather good. Maybe I thought so simply because I’d expected little of it. But even so it was at least not bad.

The movie opens with a scene of an American biologist, Dr. Martin Harris, coming to Berlin with his wife to attend an international conference. They caught a taxi at the airport to go to the hotel where they had planned to stay. When they arrived at the hotel, however, he realized he had left his suitcase behind in the airport, and got another taxi alone to go back there. But the taxi got involved in an accident on the way, and dived into the river. Butting his head strongly with the side window, Harris fell into a comma, and when he woke up next time, he found himself at a hospital in Berlin. Though a bit confused about his bearings at first, after watching a TV news program featuring the conference, he remembered why he was in Germany and where he and his wife had planned to stay. He got so worried about his wife, who must have been at a loss about her husband’s whereabouts, that against his doctor’s advice he went to the hotel to tell her he was alive. But what awaited him there was a very enigmatic situation: he found his wife was with another man who also called himself Dr. Martin Harris, and she told him she had never met him before. After some failed attempts to prove he was Dr. Martin Harris, he swooned again and was sent back to the hospital. Although he was still inclined to believe what he had said was true, having seen many pieces of evidence to the contrary, he was beginning to doubt his own story and believe he had gone insane, when a strange person appeared at the hospital and tried to take him forcefully out of the hospital. The guy bound him to the stretcher, and killed a nurse who tried to interrupt him. At this point, Martine concluded he had been right after all, and he must have been involved in some kind of nefarious conspiracy. Fleeing from the killer guy, he decided to fight to take back his true identity.

Some may see this as a garden-variety thriller plot, and I don’t argue against them. There are certainly some unexpected twists toward the end, but they are not so unpredictable nor so shocking. After watching it, you might be feeling “I’ve seen many movies like this,” an opinion with which I would agree. Still, I like this movie because it’s full of so many beautiful scenes (or landscapes?). And Liam Neeson played his role well. Diane Kruger’s cute. These three factors---beautiful scenes, a seasoned hero, and a cute heroine---made this otherwise run-of-the-mill suspense thriller a worth-a-watch movie.

A Matter of Taste

Many people in Japan believe that the aim of learning English is to become able to speak it like native speakers do. Accordingly, they are deeply sensitive to the way native speakers talk, and always fear that their English might be besmirched with Japanese color. That’s why all those natives-don’t-say-so kinds of books abound in the bookstores. Well, it is not a bad thing to try to emulate them, but remember that even if you are unable to speak that fluently, you don’t need to feel uneasy or diffident.

Nobody can deny that English is now the international language, and if you don’t want to be cut off from communication with the rest of the world, you should have at least a reasonable knowledge of the lingua franca. But this doesn’t cancel the fact that the current situation gives native speakers of English a big head start, for at least linguistically, they don’t have to learn any grammar or acquire any new vocabulary in order to play an active role at the world stage.
For nonnative speakers, simply using English in communication requires investing a great deal. Just think of so much time and energy you’ve spent, if not wasted, learning or studying English! If so, why should you feel inferior or embarrassed just because your English is less than perfect or even broken? Don’t you think the onus is upon native speakers to try to understand your fractured English, not the other way round?

Now English has established its status, it might be difficult to look at things that way, but take a step backwards. Almost all the linguists, including those whose mother tongue is English, admit that English has become what it is now only by chance, and that its influential status in the world today has nothing to do with its superiority as a language. If this is true, as I think it is, then any other language could have been in the place that English now holds.

So, let’s try a thought experiment. Suppose Japanese were now the de facto international tool of communication, in lieu of English. In that case, what would happen? The answer is this: wherever you went, you wouldn’t have to feel any timidity about communication if only you knew Japanese. Indeed, if people in any country couldn’t understand you, you could simply say disdainfully, “But they don’t even understand Japanese,” as if that were the mark of their inferiority in every other respect. Don’t you think this kind of thing would be ludicrous? But consciously or unconsciously, we believe that this is the kind of situation where native speakers of English are virtually placed. That’s why even when talking with them in Japan, we fear our English might not be good enough.

It's irrelevant here to say that many native speakers are not that hubristic. Please remember I’m not saying this to inveigh against native speakers of English or accuse them of being arrogant. The point is that we are acting as if they were entitled to behave that way. How else could we account for our tendency to respect and admire them when they speak slowly or try to understand our broken English? Deep down, we feel that our failure to speak English could deprive us of the right to communicate. So the less confident we feel about our English skills, the more subservient we tend to be toward native speakers.

But this is simply not good. It completely violates the principle of reciprocity. If we cooperate with native speakers to achieve something that would be of mutual benefit, isn’t it strange for us to be deeply thankful for their “effort” simply because they deign to slow down their natural speed of speaking---especially considering the amount of time and energy it would take for us to learn even broken English?

“But the circumstances being what they are, what do you want us to do?” you might ask. Well, nothing difficult, it’s very simple. I don’t say “Stop using English,” which would be worse than ludicrous; all I say is “Speak Japanese English without fear or hesitation.” If you are already able to speak native-like English, that’s fine. You don’t need to change that. However, if you speak Japanese (or broken) English now, and feel it serves your purpose sufficiently, you don’t have to feel embarrassed about it just because some other person’s English sounds more native-like. Be proud of your Japanese English and continue to use it unflinchingly. Even if native speakers seem to have difficulty understanding you at first, be bold and say “I’ m trying to use your language now, so I would like you to try as much to understand me.” Some of them might get angry or impatient at this statement. But I’ve already explained how hubristic it would be. You don’t need to communicate with such inflexible fellows, who can never be thought of as cosmopolitan in mind.

Of course, I know there are some who don’t have native-like proficiency now but want to have it in the future because it’s cool. I never despise them nor do I insist they should renounce their dream; that’s a good dream to pursue, I believe. But please remember that whether someone wants to achieve native-like proficiency for its own sake is simply a matter of taste, and if a friend of yours happens to have a different taste, please don’t mock him or her.

The logical rigor of English

In the U.S. the phrase "could care less" is used to mean "don't care at all." In the U.K., however, people say "I couldn't care less" to mean the same thing. Logically speaking, to say "I could care less" to mean "I don't care" like Americans do is a bit bizarre, because the sentence would normally be deemed as a truncated version of "I could care less than I do now," which would imply "I do care to some extent."

Just think of the sentence "I couldn't agree more." Everyone understands that it means "I completely agree," being a shortened version of "I couldn't agree more than I do," which implies the speaker agrees to the largest degree. If you follow this reasoning and apply it to "could care less," the phrase should mean "I care to some extent" and if you want to say you just don't care, you should use "couldn't care less."

Strangely, quite the reverse happens in the U.S. But this phenomenon is not limited to the "could care less" construction. For example, some point out that Americans tend to say "cannot underestimate X" to mean that the value or degree of X is very great. But the verb "underestimate" basically means to estimate the value of something to be lower than it really is. If so, the phrase "cannot underestimate X," which should mean "cannot estimate the value of X to be lower than it really is," would imply that the value of X is extremely low, and if you wanted to say the value of X is great, you would have to change "underestimate" into "overestimate." But this is not necessarily the case, at least when it comes to American English.

What makes these somewhat bizarre constructions all the more interesting is that their original (or logically tenable) versions like "couldn't care less" and "cannot overestimate" are the ones Japanese learners of English have great difficulty mastering. Indeed, typical Japanese, when they first come across, say, the phrase "cannot overestimate X," tend to think it implies the value of X is very low.

I did make the same mistake when I was a high school student and, reading in a grammar a logical explanation of why the meaning of the phrase was diametrically opposed to what I had expected it to be, was impressed with the logical rigor with which native speakers of English understood such constructions. But I must have overestimated their logical reasoning.

The fact that Americans do make the same "mistake" as typical Japanese learners do or, in other words, the fact that they can interpret sentences like "cannot underestimate" and "could care less" in the same way as Japanese learners do suggests that native speakers do not necessarily, even unconsciously or implicitly, follow logical rules when they speak.

In fact, when I asked a friend of mine (a native) about the phrase "could care less," she said that to say "could care less" to mean "just don't care" was only natural and not until I reminded her of how "couldn't agree more" is usually understood in English did she realize that it (could care less) was unreasonable at least from a logical point of view.

Of course, I have no intention whatever of criticizing Americans for being illogical. But what I could care less about saying is that you cannot be too careful of overestimating the logical rigor of English or its speakers.

What is freedom? (1)

Recently I read On Liberty by John Stuart Mill. It’s an essay on Political Liberty, or the legitimate limits of the interference of the state with individual people’s freedom. Perusing this masterpiece and juxtaposing its moral philosophy with those of rationalistic philosophers like Immanuel Kant have provided me with a good opportunity to consider such fundamental questions as what it truly means to be a free agent and whether it is possible for us to be free in a true sense. Here I’ do like to share some thoughts on these questions, mainly based on Kantian philosophy.

Freedom is such a familiar concept that we seldom pause to think what it truly means. Once we begin to consider exactly what it is, however, we will realize how elusive a concept it is and how difficult it is to be convinced of its actual existence. For example, I believe that I choose to do whatever I like and that in blogging like this, I am choosing to do so as a free subject. But is it truly so? Am I not just obeying my desire to blog? Is it really possible to say that I’ve chosen to blog and that I’ve been autonomous in that choice?

Indeed, if you begin to consider this kind of problem, you are already standing on the threshold of philosophy, and all you need to plunge into the exciting field is a little courage and leisure. Although the image you have of philosophy may be as a recondite subject, it’s actually far simpler than is commonly supposed, and the problems it deals with are not so different from the ones that every child, with their uncontaminated minds, poses to their puzzled parents. So you don’t need to be afraid of foraying into this riddle-laden field.

Kant’s definition of freedom is extremely stringent. His epistemology makes it impossible to conceive its possibility in the world of experience, where the law of causality reigns supreme, so that nothing can escape from its grip. According to Kantian view, causality is one of those things that make the world of experience possible. So, for something to exist in the sphere of experience entails that it is ruled by the law of causality, or caused by some other thing. But if everything is caused by something, it follows that nothing is unconditioned or that nothing is totally free. That is why freedom is impossible in the realm of possible experience. Nothing or nobody can be truly free in this down-to-earth world. But if so, how is the concept of freedom itself possible?

Practical reason comes in here. It can dictate a priori---or independently of and prior to experience---that so and so ought to be the case. This is the universal moral law. On Kantian view, it is only in our ability to choose to obey this law for its own sake that freedom is possible. For as a rational subject every individual has this transcendental faculty called practical reason, and obeying the rule prescribed by it does not mean obeying some other thing but following our inner rational voice.

Despite the fact that Kant’s moral philosophy is highly intriguing and has indeed inspired such modern thinkers as John Rawls and Michael Sandel, it is untenable from our point of view. It gives reason a privileged status it does not actually have. Though reason is palpably a higher faculty than sensation, still it’s not a metaphysical but an anthropological faculty, and as such requires some biological and sociological foundation. That it is totally unfettered by experience, be it ontogenetic or phylogenetic, is simply inconceivable. But if we reject Kantian moral philosophy on this ground, we have to return to the question: Is freedom really possible? Kant's epistemology is so cogent that it's impossible to completely jettison its basic idea but if we accept its tenet that causality is one of the indispensable components of this empirical world and yet reject Kant's rationalistic account of freedom, we cannot avoid concluding that free will in a true sense is completely impossible. How can we extricate ourselves from this predicament?

I’d like to consider what Mill thinks about this problem next time.

Take Heed, and Beware of Irrational Fear

The tremendous difficulty we have controlling our irrational feelings reminds us of our inherently bestial nature. Although it’s said that reason, or vernunft if you like, sets us apart from the rest of the animal kingdom, ironically this exquisite human faculty seldom comes to rescue us when we need it most.

As I said in the previous posting, Tokyo didn’t suffer serious damage from the earthquake and tsunami. True, the nuclear plant crisis triggered by them has made it all but impossible for Tokyo Electric Power Company to supply enough electricity, as a result of which it has now put into practice the rolling residential blackouts in its covered areas, thus influencing Tokyoites’ lives too. But even before this they were fear stricken. Immediately after the earthquake hit, many of them rushed to supermarkets and convenient stores to stock up on essentials. This stupid panic buying still continues despite the admonitions on the part of the government officials and TV news commentators. If you think rationally about the current situation, it is the most affected areas in northeast Japan that are in serious shortage of essentials. Tokyoites don’t lack anything at this moment. Still, they do stock up, thus making it all the more difficult for relief goods to reach those survivors in Tohoku. Nothing could be further from rational behavior.

Behind this irrational behavior lies an egocentric desire to avert death even at the expense of others’ lives. Another possible factor is the strong tendency of Japanese people to simply ape what other people do without considering whether it is a reasonable thing. Both of them can be subsumed under the heading of “fear.” On the one hand, they fear death; on the other, they fear to lag behind others. These feelings are understandable enough, but not commendable from a rationalistic point of view. And in my opinion, overcoming them ultimately helps us to protect what we fear to lose.

Not only in this panic buying but also in people’s interpretation of what’s happening in the nuclear plants in Fukushima prefecture does this irrational fear make itself felt. The reportings of the foreign media and the Japanese media are so different in tone that they are at a loss which of the two is true. The foreign media suggest that the nuclear crisis is far worse than the Japanese administration admits, something that people don't want to belive, but if the worse scenario should turn out to be true, those who have listened for it, they think, will be more likely to survive than those who have ignored it. As a result, they are frustrated. But even if the foreign media should be correct, there is nothing we could do at this moment. What point is there in scratching our heads over what we cannot do anything about? The only rational way to respond to the current situation is to be always prepared for the worst scenario, be it a Chernobyl or anything else, so that we can remain calm should it come. This might be regarded as a form of resignation. But far from being so, this is the most practical way to weather the crisis. The worst scenario doesn’t always mean that we all perish. But it would take stupendous efforts to overcome it. So, suppose that the worst thing happened, what would be the biggest impediment to containing it? People’s irrational fear and behavior. Even now, they are in confusion. If it should turn out that the crisis is far worse than they think, it is almost inevitable for the situation to be chaotic. In such a case, those who will keep calm and behave in a rational manner will be most likely to succeed.

I know that this mental attitude is hard to maintain. After all, we are part of the animal kingdom. Rational behavior is not the rule but the exception. But if reason cannot help us at this critical moment, what is it for?