Turns out that this blog is where I like to express what I think of as "the bleedingly obvious" or the occasionally bizarre (I still think that living with animals is bizarre. It's been happening for thousands of years, and I love pets, but it still fascinates me). Generally I'd like to say that most posts won't be as sanctimonious at the last one, but let ye who is not ever self-righteous cast the first stone.
I read all the articles on gay marriage when they appear. Then I read the comments. Then I want to slowly turn and bump my head gently against the nearest surface - gently, because I have a thesis to finish, and bruising my cerebral cortex will not serve me well.
The one I wish to address today is a common objection: "Just because someone is against gay marriage does not make them homophobic! I have gay friends." (paraphrase) Oh, you have gay friends! What a marvellous skyscraper of morality you are! I have gay friends, too! We have so much in common! Oh, wait - except I want my gay friends to enjoy the same rights as my straight friends?
These people who are against any alteration of the status quo are horrified and angry that they are deemed homophobic - "fear of/discomfort with homosexuality" - because they don't like the idea of a same-sex couple getting married. They feel pigeonholed. They feel judged. They feel that "the crazy lefties" are labelling and bullying them (cue the World's Smallest Simple Plan Album Playing Just For YOU*). They appear to think that there is no justification for this idea that an opposition to gay marriage is a sign of homophobia.
I think that perhaps they are not well-blessed with self-awareness or an analytical mindset, so on the off chance that anyone ever reads this without me telling them to do so (ha!), I thought I might lay out the logic that we crazy lefties and/or gay lobbyists (one of my favourite lines: "Oh, I love the gay lobby. It's through the gay front doors and right before you get to the gay elevators.") are following in this case.
1. No argument against gay marriage makes any logical or legal sense. In the interests of not re-hashing in detail, I'll list the arguments of which I am aware, debunk them with my mad debating skills, and move on. This has been done many times before, so in the further interests of not claiming undue credit, I am probably stealing the answers that make sense to me. Then again, logic is provided free of charge. Here we go.
1a. "God doesn't like it." This is the easiest argument in the world to debunk. I'm not going to enter into the religious debate - I lack the wherewithal to do so - so here it is: which God? We live in a secular society. Say it with me: secular. Say it slowly, say it fast, it's a beautiful word. Rolls off the tongue, don't it? I don't have to live according to your religion; the law is on my side. I only have to live according to the law of the land. And the law of the land is (ideally, and nominally) made to fit everyone in that society. We don't make atheists get baptised. We don't make Christians face Mecca to pray. And I'm sorry if those comments are based on religious ignorance - my ignorance in this case is a case in point. Nobody made me go to Bible studies (actually, I didn't have a choice about religious instruction in my second primary school, but that's a separate issue).
Example: I'm married. I'm an adult woman, married to adult man, according to the law of the land. I was married in a civil ceremony in a freaking winery, under a tree. My wedding was not religious. In fact, I've often said that God was not invited, and if He turned up, the deity was gatecrashing. I'm not sure, but I don't think I'm actually married in the eyes of God/Church. As it happens, I still consider myself married. Marriage is not a religious institution; it is a legal condition; legally, it must ignore religion.
Summary: legally, we don't care what God thinks about gay marriage. Legally, we can't care.
1b. "Marriage is between a man and a woman. It's always been that way." No, it hasn't. And how is "It's always been that way" ever an argument for anything? Ideas of marriage change from generation to generation. For thousands of years it's been about the ownership of women and the inheritance of property... in some societies. Same-sex marriage is certainly not unheard of in ancient history.
1c. "I support and defend marriage. I love being married. Allowing same-sex couples to marry debases my marriage." I've never heard anything so ridiculous. Is your marriage so weak that someone you don't know getting married affects it? Honestly, I thought your marriage was about the two of you, but clearly, it's about feeling superior to unmarried people.
1d. "Think of the children!" "Selfish gay parents experimenting on their kids!" Alright, slow down, you're right - homosexual parents should definitely not be experimenting on their children to form X-Files style alien-human hybrids.
Oh. Wait. That's not what you meant.
What you meant was that apparently growing up as the children of a same-sex couple is an experiment. Firstly, marriage isn't about children. This has been debunked so many times, but it keeps popping up: apparently, marriage is about the ability to reproduce, and contribute to the next generation via the binding of gametes. This is arrant nonsense; infertile couples get married all the time. People adopt if they want kids. And furthermore, there are plenty of married, heterosexual couples out there who don't want children, and we let them get married.
Sure, it's nice when kids are raised in stable, loving homes - which homosexual parents are able to provide just as well as heterosexual parents and there are numerous studies showing that there is no psychological disadvantage to these situations. Teh science is against you. I know people who would give their right arm to have been raised by even one sane, present parent of either sex rather than the heterosexual drop-kicks who actually raised them. Heterosexuality is no guarantee of stability. And furthermore, another argument has been raised - I quite like this one - that allowing gay marriages is good for children, because marriage overall increases the stability of a family. It also means that these kids don't have to look at their parents and wonder why, even though there is plenty of love going around, society apparently has decided that the relationship is Just Not Good Enough. No matter how supportive, how loving, how thoughtful, how stable.
1e. "I'm in favour of gay marriage, but why do you need the word marriage?" Why not? Separate isn't equal. If you don't think the word is a big deal, go on, do like your parents taught you - share. Words are a huge deal. We think in language. We debate in language. We justify in language. Language shapes thought, language has impact. Words, in short, matter. You don't gain anything by keeping the word marriage exclusive to a penis-vagina coupling. See (1c).
1f. "Churches will have to perform same-sex marriages which oppose their doctrine!" No, they won't. See Canada.
1g. "I just know it's wrong."
Now we get to the nub of the matter, because so far, none of these other arguments make sense in a secular society. Children will not be threatened (and I'd go so far as to say that if we live in a more egalitarian society, all children will benefit enormously - especially children who grow up to be same-sex attracted and would like to not be bullied, discriminated against, or otherwise abused by society). Status quo is a terrible, terrible argument (see: interracial marriages, women voting, etc. etc.). Religion is an appalling reason to oppose same-sex marriage. If marriage is a religious institution only, I'm not married - and guess what, I take extraordinary exception to that idea. There will be pummelling.
2. "I just know it's wrong." Hon, that's not how morality works. That's not how fairness works. That's not how our society works. We have laws. We have reasons. We generally agree that discrimination is bad. If you have no return argument for any of these debunkings, then your response is instinctive, and inadmissible. Your instinctive response is about your discomfort.
You are, for some reason (probably lack of exposure to the idea that those pesky homosexuals are, in fact, people like you), uncomfortable with the idea of two people of the same sex getting married.
Discomfort. Hrm. With homosexuality.
We do call that homophobia.
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*Re: "A Simple Plan" are probably not around any more. Who is the current emo band that would fit in this bracket? I'm getting old, you see.
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Sunday, November 27, 2011
Saturday, November 12, 2011
On fidelity
Every now and again, you come into contact (directly or indirectly) with someone whose world view differs drastically from your own. That's diversity. It's interesting - usually. Occasionally, that difference leaves you sputtering in confusion: "But who does that? Seriously?"
The issue of fidelity in monogamous relationships seems to be one such minefield.
My own approach (which we shall call "A") is: "I am in a monogamous relationship. I will not seek romantic and/or sexual activity with anyone outside of this relationship." This seems fairly straightforward to me (and to Husband, whose initial response to our proposed relationship was, "Monogamy? Well, I'll give it a try..." and it seems to have worked out quite well, seven years later).
However, I have met, encountered, heard-of-in-the-third-person another approach (which we shall call "B"). It is this: "I am in a monogamous relationship. However, everybody cheats. No-one really means it when they say they're monogamous, and no-one really expects me to keep it in my pants. Therefore, it's okay for me to cheat, because everybody does it."
This seems... convoluted. It means that in a conversation with A, B might be thinking, "What a naive person! How dare they judge me for doing what everybody does!" And I can promise you that A is thinking, "My God, you're a freaking tool, aren't you?" as well as, "You did what? Who does that?" (also, I have it on good authority that B likes to say things like, "But s/he meant nothing to me! Therefore it didn't count!")
This is not about people who do fall in love with someone else, or make a poor decision one drunken night, or anything along those lines. It's also not about polygamous relationships, or open relationships, each of which seems to have its own carefully worked out idiosyncratic approach.
My own theory is this. If you're a person who espouses "B", an exclusive monogamous relationship is not for you. Be honest about it, because maybe your partner is an "A"; if they discover your infidelity, the emotional pain you will deal to them is beyond words, and beyond what you half-arsedly try to rationalise with your "everybody else is doing it" justification.
I like "A", for my money; because I say what I mean, and mean what I say. As far as I'm concerned, life is too short and relationships already too complicated for second-guessing what someone really means when they say something. If you're all speaking the same language, say what you mean.
And mean what you say.
The issue of fidelity in monogamous relationships seems to be one such minefield.
My own approach (which we shall call "A") is: "I am in a monogamous relationship. I will not seek romantic and/or sexual activity with anyone outside of this relationship." This seems fairly straightforward to me (and to Husband, whose initial response to our proposed relationship was, "Monogamy? Well, I'll give it a try..." and it seems to have worked out quite well, seven years later).
However, I have met, encountered, heard-of-in-the-third-person another approach (which we shall call "B"). It is this: "I am in a monogamous relationship. However, everybody cheats. No-one really means it when they say they're monogamous, and no-one really expects me to keep it in my pants. Therefore, it's okay for me to cheat, because everybody does it."
This seems... convoluted. It means that in a conversation with A, B might be thinking, "What a naive person! How dare they judge me for doing what everybody does!" And I can promise you that A is thinking, "My God, you're a freaking tool, aren't you?" as well as, "You did what? Who does that?" (also, I have it on good authority that B likes to say things like, "But s/he meant nothing to me! Therefore it didn't count!")
This is not about people who do fall in love with someone else, or make a poor decision one drunken night, or anything along those lines. It's also not about polygamous relationships, or open relationships, each of which seems to have its own carefully worked out idiosyncratic approach.
My own theory is this. If you're a person who espouses "B", an exclusive monogamous relationship is not for you. Be honest about it, because maybe your partner is an "A"; if they discover your infidelity, the emotional pain you will deal to them is beyond words, and beyond what you half-arsedly try to rationalise with your "everybody else is doing it" justification.
I like "A", for my money; because I say what I mean, and mean what I say. As far as I'm concerned, life is too short and relationships already too complicated for second-guessing what someone really means when they say something. If you're all speaking the same language, say what you mean.
And mean what you say.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
On very odd behaviour from medical professionals
So, yesterday an endocrinologist told me that I had no sign of a glucose disorder and was at very low risk. Goodo! Then he weighed and measured me, told me I needed to lose a couple of kilos and 4cms of waist circumference (80cms is apparently "desirable" in women; thought back; yes, that was the phrase). I looked extremely skeptical.
Then he pulled out a "kilo of fat", which broadly looks a bit like a fat, urine-coloured sausage. And told me to lose "one or two" of those.
My response was probably not what he expected. I wasn't angry yet, I was just a little bit weirded out by the strange man with his strange fat. After I failed to react in any way other than, "Huh. ...yeah?" he wrapped it back up in its Gladwrap, put it away with some sheepishness, and continued the consultation as though it had never happened.
Further investigation has yielded two friends who have experienced this treatment.
My initial confusion was this: "I'm not sure how I'm expected to respond, man. You just pulled out a kilo of freaking fat and dumped it in your desk. I think this is a step in a social dance for which I am really not prepared."
(When I spoke to my Mum later, I said, "It would be like if I had a liver in my fridge, and if I had guests over, and I pulled out this liver and went, hey guys, this came from a duck, what do you think?" It's a poor metaphor, because the answer is obviously, "I think it's pate.")
(I now wish I had said to the man, "I think it's pate," for added surrealism)
Asking around, apparently, my response is supposed to be shame. The kilo of fat is supposed to shame me into losing weight. My problem with this is twofold. Firstly, I'm not sure how the kilo of fat is supposed to incite shame of any kind. It's an inanimate entity on a desk. In my body, it's a biological entity. It's storing nutrients should I need them. In and of itself, there's actually nothing wrong with fat. Perhaps we should not forget a generation whose grandmothers try to insult them (shame them) by saying, "My dear, don't you look healthy." (Translation: you're fat)
I lack grandmothers in the extant sense; that's an anecdote I've heard from several female friends whose living grandmothers happen to be on the catty side. Another one said to a friend, perfectly pleasantly, "You're quite skinny. Are you unwell?" This friend is on the narrow side in terms of build. The fact that we couldn't work out whether it was (a) a genuine inquiry based on concern, (b) a compliment or (c) an insult suggests we live in a world that is seriously fucked up.
But I digress. I don't think I can be shamed with a kilo of fat any more than I could be shamed with duck pate, or any internal organ from any animal, human included. (I now wish I had asked what animal had produced the fat, presuming it isn't actually plastic) I simply don't link those kinds of emotions to bodily stuff. I'm not saying I'm beyond body image issues; I have them, and have had them, and was miserable about my supposed fatness all the way through primary school and high school. I feltugly, yes; I didn't feel ashamed about being ugly, though, because it wasn't my fault. I felt crappy that I was unattractive. That's it. I had bigger things to occupy my overactive guilt/shame centers. I had other things going on at home, at school, and so on, that meant feeling ashamed of my body was way down the list.
Note: I draw a line between being ashamed and being self-conscious. They are not the same thing, and this brings us to the next point: the idea of being shamed for being fat, whether you are actually fat or not (as though there is some arbitrary line rather than an n-dimensional continuum of body shapes).
I felt horribly self-conscious in high school, yes. I didn't want people to look at me too much, because I felt ugly. However, I didn't feel as though I had done anything wrong.
This is key.
At what point, in shaming people about being fat, do you say, "Gosh, you have done the wrong thing. I want you to feel bad. Feel bad yet? Right, now that you feel bad, go and do something good for your health."
I know for a fact I am not the only person who sees a disconnect here. I know why I've put on a small amount of weight while writing a thesis. It's because I'm not going to gym, or swimming, or diving, and I'm stressed. I'm not actually eating more junk food than usual, or anything like that, but I'm not doing exercise, and I should be. I should be, because it makes me feel good and it makes me feel alert and excited; I should be, because it makes me strong.
Feeling ashamed, feeling bad about yourself, feeling bad about your body, from my experience, do not make you want to go out and do exercise. In my experience, anecdotally, this feeling makes you want to curl up in bed in a depressive lump. Feeling crappy makes you feel tired, not energised. Not motivated. If at some point a doctor felt the genuine need to tell me to get more exercise, all s/he would have to do is explain, in simple form, the health risks associated with my not doing so. If a doctor felt the need to tell me to change my diet, again, all he or she would have to do is list what I needed and for what reasons.
Then I would respond, not according to shame, but according to freaking common sense.
Instead, what do I get? Gosh, your fat is bad.
Now, these arguments apply to this sort of treatment regardless of your size. I am also deeply concerned because, with a dietician doing a quick back-of-the-envelope BMI calculation and saying I am perfectly fine (although should I even use BMI to prove a point? Maybe not), a jeans size of 12 (Just Jeans), and with a waist-hip ratio of (I just worked it out, from sheer bloody mindedness) 0.78* (which is apparently also fine from my swift googling), and now an endocrinologist saying that I have no sign or indication and am at very low risk for a glucose disorder, he still felt the need to say, "Gosh, your fat is bad."
Look, I'm normal. There are two problems here: the first is with anyone being treated this way, and it involves the paradigm shift as we come to realise that supposedly "excess" weight is not the terrible health threat that we've all been hearing about our whole lives. It is a red herring and an exaggeration. Everything we hear about what obesity costs taxpayers is complete freaking bollocks.
The second problem is that, even for a doctor who does believe that being above a certain weight counts as a significant health risk, he classed a person of my size as having that risk. Nowhere can I find any evidence to support his claims. Mind you, Googling is obviously not on a par with the ridiculous amount of education required to become a specialist in a medical field, but if he's working from a standard, however arbitrary, shouldn't that standard be available somewhere? Just how small do you have to be?
And my next question is, what do they do to underweight people? I have several friends who have had doctors constantly telling them they need to put on weight, that they are too small, that their low BMI is "undesirable" - what's the tactic for them? Do they get shown the kilo of fat and told that, it's not gross, it's awesome, and you need more of it? That's no better, but it does break the logic of assuming that fat is always bad.
I'm still angry.
----
EDIT: realised that being measured around the tummy is not your waist, so I remeasured it myself. WtH ratio is now 0.73...
----
Then he pulled out a "kilo of fat", which broadly looks a bit like a fat, urine-coloured sausage. And told me to lose "one or two" of those.
My response was probably not what he expected. I wasn't angry yet, I was just a little bit weirded out by the strange man with his strange fat. After I failed to react in any way other than, "Huh. ...yeah?" he wrapped it back up in its Gladwrap, put it away with some sheepishness, and continued the consultation as though it had never happened.
Further investigation has yielded two friends who have experienced this treatment.
My initial confusion was this: "I'm not sure how I'm expected to respond, man. You just pulled out a kilo of freaking fat and dumped it in your desk. I think this is a step in a social dance for which I am really not prepared."
(When I spoke to my Mum later, I said, "It would be like if I had a liver in my fridge, and if I had guests over, and I pulled out this liver and went, hey guys, this came from a duck, what do you think?" It's a poor metaphor, because the answer is obviously, "I think it's pate.")
(I now wish I had said to the man, "I think it's pate," for added surrealism)
Asking around, apparently, my response is supposed to be shame. The kilo of fat is supposed to shame me into losing weight. My problem with this is twofold. Firstly, I'm not sure how the kilo of fat is supposed to incite shame of any kind. It's an inanimate entity on a desk. In my body, it's a biological entity. It's storing nutrients should I need them. In and of itself, there's actually nothing wrong with fat. Perhaps we should not forget a generation whose grandmothers try to insult them (shame them) by saying, "My dear, don't you look healthy." (Translation: you're fat)
I lack grandmothers in the extant sense; that's an anecdote I've heard from several female friends whose living grandmothers happen to be on the catty side. Another one said to a friend, perfectly pleasantly, "You're quite skinny. Are you unwell?" This friend is on the narrow side in terms of build. The fact that we couldn't work out whether it was (a) a genuine inquiry based on concern, (b) a compliment or (c) an insult suggests we live in a world that is seriously fucked up.
But I digress. I don't think I can be shamed with a kilo of fat any more than I could be shamed with duck pate, or any internal organ from any animal, human included. (I now wish I had asked what animal had produced the fat, presuming it isn't actually plastic) I simply don't link those kinds of emotions to bodily stuff. I'm not saying I'm beyond body image issues; I have them, and have had them, and was miserable about my supposed fatness all the way through primary school and high school. I feltugly, yes; I didn't feel ashamed about being ugly, though, because it wasn't my fault. I felt crappy that I was unattractive. That's it. I had bigger things to occupy my overactive guilt/shame centers. I had other things going on at home, at school, and so on, that meant feeling ashamed of my body was way down the list.
Note: I draw a line between being ashamed and being self-conscious. They are not the same thing, and this brings us to the next point: the idea of being shamed for being fat, whether you are actually fat or not (as though there is some arbitrary line rather than an n-dimensional continuum of body shapes).
I felt horribly self-conscious in high school, yes. I didn't want people to look at me too much, because I felt ugly. However, I didn't feel as though I had done anything wrong.
This is key.
At what point, in shaming people about being fat, do you say, "Gosh, you have done the wrong thing. I want you to feel bad. Feel bad yet? Right, now that you feel bad, go and do something good for your health."
I know for a fact I am not the only person who sees a disconnect here. I know why I've put on a small amount of weight while writing a thesis. It's because I'm not going to gym, or swimming, or diving, and I'm stressed. I'm not actually eating more junk food than usual, or anything like that, but I'm not doing exercise, and I should be. I should be, because it makes me feel good and it makes me feel alert and excited; I should be, because it makes me strong.
Feeling ashamed, feeling bad about yourself, feeling bad about your body, from my experience, do not make you want to go out and do exercise. In my experience, anecdotally, this feeling makes you want to curl up in bed in a depressive lump. Feeling crappy makes you feel tired, not energised. Not motivated. If at some point a doctor felt the genuine need to tell me to get more exercise, all s/he would have to do is explain, in simple form, the health risks associated with my not doing so. If a doctor felt the need to tell me to change my diet, again, all he or she would have to do is list what I needed and for what reasons.
Then I would respond, not according to shame, but according to freaking common sense.
Instead, what do I get? Gosh, your fat is bad.
Now, these arguments apply to this sort of treatment regardless of your size. I am also deeply concerned because, with a dietician doing a quick back-of-the-envelope BMI calculation and saying I am perfectly fine (although should I even use BMI to prove a point? Maybe not), a jeans size of 12 (Just Jeans), and with a waist-hip ratio of (I just worked it out, from sheer bloody mindedness) 0.78* (which is apparently also fine from my swift googling), and now an endocrinologist saying that I have no sign or indication and am at very low risk for a glucose disorder, he still felt the need to say, "Gosh, your fat is bad."
Look, I'm normal. There are two problems here: the first is with anyone being treated this way, and it involves the paradigm shift as we come to realise that supposedly "excess" weight is not the terrible health threat that we've all been hearing about our whole lives. It is a red herring and an exaggeration. Everything we hear about what obesity costs taxpayers is complete freaking bollocks.
The second problem is that, even for a doctor who does believe that being above a certain weight counts as a significant health risk, he classed a person of my size as having that risk. Nowhere can I find any evidence to support his claims. Mind you, Googling is obviously not on a par with the ridiculous amount of education required to become a specialist in a medical field, but if he's working from a standard, however arbitrary, shouldn't that standard be available somewhere? Just how small do you have to be?
And my next question is, what do they do to underweight people? I have several friends who have had doctors constantly telling them they need to put on weight, that they are too small, that their low BMI is "undesirable" - what's the tactic for them? Do they get shown the kilo of fat and told that, it's not gross, it's awesome, and you need more of it? That's no better, but it does break the logic of assuming that fat is always bad.
I'm still angry.
----
EDIT: realised that being measured around the tummy is not your waist, so I remeasured it myself. WtH ratio is now 0.73...
----
Thursday, July 28, 2011
On Religiousnessnessness
Ah, yes, at last - a post I have considered trying to write many times, and I'm not sure how far I'll get with this one. Suffice to say that there is material for a public entry, and material for a locked entry. Public is - naturally - easier, so let's go.
I've been doing a lot of reading of various science blogs lately, and a lot of those link across to various atheism blogs. The idea of these blogs (well, the good ones) is to stimulate discussion (not about whether God exists; if you're on an atheist blog you might well consider that a solved problem) and thought on issues stemming from the problems we face having the church so thoroughly implanted in the state.
Meanwhile, there's the "Mark No Religion On The Australian Census" campaign, with which I thoroughly agree.
Except... there's a problem with that. Not for me; in spite of my wishful leanings, I'm quite comfortable marking "no religion". My problem is that I have this vague sense that everyone should mark "no religion" - even if they are deeply religious - to avoid pigeonholing.
I've known a few people of quiet, unshakeable faith - I can't relate to it - who nevertheless had political views and beliefs more in line with my own, i.e. pro-choice, pro-science, pro-environment, and a wish for a genuinely even-handed society (i.e. please let same-sex couples get married? It will cost you nothing).
The fact is that, to a certain extent, when you tick that "religion" box, either based on faith or based on your sense of cultural identity, you will be pigeonholed. Maybe that's too strong. I don't have a first-hand experience of how that data is used. What I have seen is far right-wing Christians saying, "There are X number of Christians in Australia and WE believe/want/need/demand..."
It seems enormously patronising to say that, if you tick that box, you're saying Jim Wallace of the ACL speaks for you, but I think that's the case. Jim Wallace obviously doesn't speak for you, but savvy manipulators (and just because we don't fall for it doesn't mean other people won't) will use these numbers.
On the other hand, a person could rightly get offended and angry at that assumption. Why should they have to lie about their beliefs? Their religious beliefs do not automatically mean they hold a particular set of political values. Their religion and their politics are two separate things.
And that is exactly the point. It's a problem. I wouldn't blame anyone for being shitty and not wanting to downplay the significance of their own religion in their life, but at the same time, those numbers will be misused by religious people who are arseholes. Just witness the amazing Gumbo impression that Gillard does - an atheist twisting around to placate the religious right.
So - if you're a left-wing person of any religion (I've only mentioned Christianity, as that's the one that seems to get the most political clout here these days) - you're in a conundrum. Do you lie, to try and keep politics and religion separate? Or do you tell the truth, and try in your own way to separate the ridiculous myth that says all people of a particular religion have the same views?
I have no idea. It's a puzzle of an ideal versus the cynical reality.
On the next note, conversions! Reading a lot of these blogs suggests that conversations between atheists and religious types happen quite often. I don't know if I'm particularly non-confrontational (actually, I'm not. Anyone who knows me knows I'm usually delighted to clear the air. On almost anything), or if perhaps I'm just non-confrontational when I know the outcome is guaranteed to be very unpleasant, but I've seen very few of these.
At heart, I'm not really an accomodationist; I do believe it's harmful to believe so fervently something that seems to not be true (or at least there's no supporting evidence, and documentation is really only a small part of the story); I do believe it's harmful to expect other people to live their lives and make their decisions according to your beliefs (in act, it makes me furious); and I absolutely despise the notion that morality comes from some divine aspect, when it should come from reasoning and compassion and society.
And yet, I avoid religious discussions like the plague. I shouldn't. I know and firmly believe that communication is key in all things, but here are a few of the reasons I can't get past it (yes, I'm a pansy):
(1) It's rude. At the base of it all, I know what I think about religions, I know what I think about fundamentalists, although I'm not too fussed by vague spirituality. That communication I mentioned above is based on honesty, and if I'm having a debate on the merits of religion, I am constantly, constantly editing the thought bubble in my head, "You believe what? You must know the implications of that. I know you're not an idiot. You must be a loon." And I'm aware that they may be suppressing a similar bubble. This stilts conversation for me and makes it very uncomfortable. I'm capable of tact, but dishonesty is another matter. I'm very bad at it. In the end, the other person is - unless they're completely non-perceptive - well aware that I think they've short-changed themselves by buying into something like this.
(2) A debate on this issue can't have a good outcome. Here are the possible outcomes:
(2a) I win. This is unlikely. I convince the religious person that their whole belief system is nonsensical. Actually, that's going to be enormously traumatic for them. Maybe they were happy before, and now they're not. I'm an arsehole.
(2b) I lose. Um. I guess this would mean I am converted, but that's never going to happen. Still, being logical, let's assume I go insane and my brain stops working.
(2c) The discussion gets strained and everyone is cross and frustrated with everyone else.
You know what? It's not religion. It's the specifics. I'm fine with people believing in a god or gods. Sure, go nuts. Why not? I haven't completely ruled it out myself in a philosophical sense. It's the details - like heaven and hell, marriage rules, original sin, ideas about sex, and so on and so forth - that drive me nuts.
When I was a child someone tried to explain original sin to me. I thought it was a horrible idea. How was that fair? People now are suffering because of that? Then there was sex. Wait. Lust is a sin? Sex is sinful? Wait a minute. Why would you create people with a whole bunch of urges and then say, "Oh wait, don't have those urges. Naughty, naughty!" Then there's creationism, and I won't get me started except to wonder why you would give a species a big squishy brain and then say, "Oh, don't use THAT thing. It's a place holder for the second heart I never got around to putting in there."
And the problem seems to be that the stage we are at in regard to how we understand the world around us is fundamentally incompatible with mystical explanations.
And yet, in theory I can be perfectly respectful of someone else's beliefs and lifestyle. If it involves minor changes to my behaviour (not swearing, etc.), whatever, it's not like I don't expect other people to be sensitive to me, so why the hell not? I'll do that. It's fine. It's when people start getting in my face that I don't like it.
The problem is that "getting in my face" includes things like:
1. The National School Chaplaincy Program
2. Religious instruction in public schools
3. Anyone who is against same-sex marriage
4. Anyone who campaigns against safe access to abortions (no, not all anti-choicers are religious, but there is a very strong correlation).
5. Censorship
Basically, situations in the public, secular sphere where religion is invoked as a reason to allow or not allow something. Sod that. Why should I have to live according to your religion?
In the end I'm either very angry or very mellow, depending on the situation. I believe that if we're going to advance as a species and as a society, we need church things to be held in churches. In the public sphere, religion should not have a voice. People should have a voice, but not to speak for their religion; only to speak for themselves, or a defined group of people who have signed up specifically to share those views (like a lobby group or political party). Religion should not be in schools. It should not be in politics. It should not be in research labs and in hospitals.
It can be in you. That's fine. But it's not in me, and I resent anyone deciding something based on the assumption that it should be a part of my life. That's goddamn patronising, forgive the pun.
I've been doing a lot of reading of various science blogs lately, and a lot of those link across to various atheism blogs. The idea of these blogs (well, the good ones) is to stimulate discussion (not about whether God exists; if you're on an atheist blog you might well consider that a solved problem) and thought on issues stemming from the problems we face having the church so thoroughly implanted in the state.
Meanwhile, there's the "Mark No Religion On The Australian Census" campaign, with which I thoroughly agree.
Except... there's a problem with that. Not for me; in spite of my wishful leanings, I'm quite comfortable marking "no religion". My problem is that I have this vague sense that everyone should mark "no religion" - even if they are deeply religious - to avoid pigeonholing.
I've known a few people of quiet, unshakeable faith - I can't relate to it - who nevertheless had political views and beliefs more in line with my own, i.e. pro-choice, pro-science, pro-environment, and a wish for a genuinely even-handed society (i.e. please let same-sex couples get married? It will cost you nothing).
The fact is that, to a certain extent, when you tick that "religion" box, either based on faith or based on your sense of cultural identity, you will be pigeonholed. Maybe that's too strong. I don't have a first-hand experience of how that data is used. What I have seen is far right-wing Christians saying, "There are X number of Christians in Australia and WE believe/want/need/demand..."
It seems enormously patronising to say that, if you tick that box, you're saying Jim Wallace of the ACL speaks for you, but I think that's the case. Jim Wallace obviously doesn't speak for you, but savvy manipulators (and just because we don't fall for it doesn't mean other people won't) will use these numbers.
On the other hand, a person could rightly get offended and angry at that assumption. Why should they have to lie about their beliefs? Their religious beliefs do not automatically mean they hold a particular set of political values. Their religion and their politics are two separate things.
And that is exactly the point. It's a problem. I wouldn't blame anyone for being shitty and not wanting to downplay the significance of their own religion in their life, but at the same time, those numbers will be misused by religious people who are arseholes. Just witness the amazing Gumbo impression that Gillard does - an atheist twisting around to placate the religious right.
So - if you're a left-wing person of any religion (I've only mentioned Christianity, as that's the one that seems to get the most political clout here these days) - you're in a conundrum. Do you lie, to try and keep politics and religion separate? Or do you tell the truth, and try in your own way to separate the ridiculous myth that says all people of a particular religion have the same views?
I have no idea. It's a puzzle of an ideal versus the cynical reality.
On the next note, conversions! Reading a lot of these blogs suggests that conversations between atheists and religious types happen quite often. I don't know if I'm particularly non-confrontational (actually, I'm not. Anyone who knows me knows I'm usually delighted to clear the air. On almost anything), or if perhaps I'm just non-confrontational when I know the outcome is guaranteed to be very unpleasant, but I've seen very few of these.
At heart, I'm not really an accomodationist; I do believe it's harmful to believe so fervently something that seems to not be true (or at least there's no supporting evidence, and documentation is really only a small part of the story); I do believe it's harmful to expect other people to live their lives and make their decisions according to your beliefs (in act, it makes me furious); and I absolutely despise the notion that morality comes from some divine aspect, when it should come from reasoning and compassion and society.
And yet, I avoid religious discussions like the plague. I shouldn't. I know and firmly believe that communication is key in all things, but here are a few of the reasons I can't get past it (yes, I'm a pansy):
(1) It's rude. At the base of it all, I know what I think about religions, I know what I think about fundamentalists, although I'm not too fussed by vague spirituality. That communication I mentioned above is based on honesty, and if I'm having a debate on the merits of religion, I am constantly, constantly editing the thought bubble in my head, "You believe what? You must know the implications of that. I know you're not an idiot. You must be a loon." And I'm aware that they may be suppressing a similar bubble. This stilts conversation for me and makes it very uncomfortable. I'm capable of tact, but dishonesty is another matter. I'm very bad at it. In the end, the other person is - unless they're completely non-perceptive - well aware that I think they've short-changed themselves by buying into something like this.
(2) A debate on this issue can't have a good outcome. Here are the possible outcomes:
(2a) I win. This is unlikely. I convince the religious person that their whole belief system is nonsensical. Actually, that's going to be enormously traumatic for them. Maybe they were happy before, and now they're not. I'm an arsehole.
(2b) I lose. Um. I guess this would mean I am converted, but that's never going to happen. Still, being logical, let's assume I go insane and my brain stops working.
(2c) The discussion gets strained and everyone is cross and frustrated with everyone else.
You know what? It's not religion. It's the specifics. I'm fine with people believing in a god or gods. Sure, go nuts. Why not? I haven't completely ruled it out myself in a philosophical sense. It's the details - like heaven and hell, marriage rules, original sin, ideas about sex, and so on and so forth - that drive me nuts.
When I was a child someone tried to explain original sin to me. I thought it was a horrible idea. How was that fair? People now are suffering because of that? Then there was sex. Wait. Lust is a sin? Sex is sinful? Wait a minute. Why would you create people with a whole bunch of urges and then say, "Oh wait, don't have those urges. Naughty, naughty!" Then there's creationism, and I won't get me started except to wonder why you would give a species a big squishy brain and then say, "Oh, don't use THAT thing. It's a place holder for the second heart I never got around to putting in there."
And the problem seems to be that the stage we are at in regard to how we understand the world around us is fundamentally incompatible with mystical explanations.
And yet, in theory I can be perfectly respectful of someone else's beliefs and lifestyle. If it involves minor changes to my behaviour (not swearing, etc.), whatever, it's not like I don't expect other people to be sensitive to me, so why the hell not? I'll do that. It's fine. It's when people start getting in my face that I don't like it.
The problem is that "getting in my face" includes things like:
1. The National School Chaplaincy Program
2. Religious instruction in public schools
3. Anyone who is against same-sex marriage
4. Anyone who campaigns against safe access to abortions (no, not all anti-choicers are religious, but there is a very strong correlation).
5. Censorship
Basically, situations in the public, secular sphere where religion is invoked as a reason to allow or not allow something. Sod that. Why should I have to live according to your religion?
In the end I'm either very angry or very mellow, depending on the situation. I believe that if we're going to advance as a species and as a society, we need church things to be held in churches. In the public sphere, religion should not have a voice. People should have a voice, but not to speak for their religion; only to speak for themselves, or a defined group of people who have signed up specifically to share those views (like a lobby group or political party). Religion should not be in schools. It should not be in politics. It should not be in research labs and in hospitals.
It can be in you. That's fine. But it's not in me, and I resent anyone deciding something based on the assumption that it should be a part of my life. That's goddamn patronising, forgive the pun.
Monday, February 21, 2011
On Keeping Other Species Toeing their Goddamn Line
In spite of the confrontational tone of that there subject heading, this is really going to be quite a peaceful rumination (a word that always makes me think of cows, so I thought it was appropriate).
I've been having a few work-from-home days recently, which means spending more time with Fluff, the most needy, insecure, demanding and neurotic feline ever to shred a carpet (he's also adorable, but I'm trying not to sound like a crazy cat lady, so we'll just skip over that).
If you take one thoughtful, analytical step back - pets are weird.
Take a step right back. We are keeping another species (with whom, in evolutionary terms, we should be competing for vital resources) in our homes, in our lives, and fed. We lavish upon them the affection we might well lavish on our children (although I can tell Fluff to "sod off and stop bugging me" in a way I might not want to speak to my own spawn).
Originally, this probably all started because animals are useful, and because they are easily manipulated into doing stuff we don't want to do - like hunting mice (cats), helping us hunt or pull carts or guard things (dogs), pulling large heavy objects (horses, oxen), and generally earning their keep. That's a start. While out there in the wacky land of biology, a number of species have worked out how to live and play together for their mutual (or at least one-way) benefit (hello, symbiosis), let's be blunt: my cat does not earn his keep.
He ate a moth the other day, but the poor thing was already dead.
That is the practical side. It doesn't seem like a stable, sensible strategy to keep a pet, and there are numerous people who refuse to keep pets simply for that reason. If you have not felt or been able to form a bond with an animal, then the behaviour of enthusiastic pet-owners is just going to seem surreal and wasteful to you.
There is a more esoteric side to all this (and I'm not sure I'm using that word correctly), and a more marvellous side. I have a tendency to occasionally view animals as utterly alien to human thought. I'm a biologist and a writer of science fiction, so perhaps those facets of my personality are quietly getting together to marvel at one astonishing fact: there are strange animals living in my house.
Never mind that I put them there. There are beings in my house, that I interact with - in a more-or-less predictable fashion - and I have no real idea what they think, if they think (evidence suggests that, with Fluff at least, this is unlikely; however, Black, our other cat, is a problem solver and possible contender for feline engineering awards) and how they see the world, or us. There are catches and traps in the way we think about pets - remember they may respond to their names, but that doesn't mean they understand the label. How on earth do they see us as something to interact with, when we are ten times their size and walk on too few legs? How do they know which bits are eyes and noses?
They are little lives, little lives wandering about in my space and conducting their alien activities with an intent concentration that I can't begin to understand.
Sometimes the warmth of my cat on my lap, the vibration of his purr, the movement of his ribcage with his breathing and all the weight of his fragile little life just astonishes me beyond words.
They are not really very useful, but they are in their own way essential.
I've been having a few work-from-home days recently, which means spending more time with Fluff, the most needy, insecure, demanding and neurotic feline ever to shred a carpet (he's also adorable, but I'm trying not to sound like a crazy cat lady, so we'll just skip over that).
If you take one thoughtful, analytical step back - pets are weird.
Take a step right back. We are keeping another species (with whom, in evolutionary terms, we should be competing for vital resources) in our homes, in our lives, and fed. We lavish upon them the affection we might well lavish on our children (although I can tell Fluff to "sod off and stop bugging me" in a way I might not want to speak to my own spawn).
Originally, this probably all started because animals are useful, and because they are easily manipulated into doing stuff we don't want to do - like hunting mice (cats), helping us hunt or pull carts or guard things (dogs), pulling large heavy objects (horses, oxen), and generally earning their keep. That's a start. While out there in the wacky land of biology, a number of species have worked out how to live and play together for their mutual (or at least one-way) benefit (hello, symbiosis), let's be blunt: my cat does not earn his keep.
He ate a moth the other day, but the poor thing was already dead.
That is the practical side. It doesn't seem like a stable, sensible strategy to keep a pet, and there are numerous people who refuse to keep pets simply for that reason. If you have not felt or been able to form a bond with an animal, then the behaviour of enthusiastic pet-owners is just going to seem surreal and wasteful to you.
There is a more esoteric side to all this (and I'm not sure I'm using that word correctly), and a more marvellous side. I have a tendency to occasionally view animals as utterly alien to human thought. I'm a biologist and a writer of science fiction, so perhaps those facets of my personality are quietly getting together to marvel at one astonishing fact: there are strange animals living in my house.
Never mind that I put them there. There are beings in my house, that I interact with - in a more-or-less predictable fashion - and I have no real idea what they think, if they think (evidence suggests that, with Fluff at least, this is unlikely; however, Black, our other cat, is a problem solver and possible contender for feline engineering awards) and how they see the world, or us. There are catches and traps in the way we think about pets - remember they may respond to their names, but that doesn't mean they understand the label. How on earth do they see us as something to interact with, when we are ten times their size and walk on too few legs? How do they know which bits are eyes and noses?
They are little lives, little lives wandering about in my space and conducting their alien activities with an intent concentration that I can't begin to understand.
Sometimes the warmth of my cat on my lap, the vibration of his purr, the movement of his ribcage with his breathing and all the weight of his fragile little life just astonishes me beyond words.
They are not really very useful, but they are in their own way essential.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
This Post Brought To You By...
The number 3 and the number 0, in that order.
Thirty looms on the horizon (for a given value of loom; it's more than half a year away), and if I grumble about it from time to time I get pitying looks from the odd individual announcing to me that it is, in fact, "just another number," as though I have caved to society's expectations by viewing the next decade with such horror.
Terribly mainstream of me. Clearly I have been pummelled by the media.
Mathematically, that's sound. It really is just another number.
Socially and psychologically, I have to disagree. We really are pummelled with preconceived notions and assumptions regarding the big three-oh, and while the majority of those are complete nonsense, we still carry the weight.
We might know that we're not suddenly plummeting into a dull middle-age, but we're aware of the risk.
We might be aware that all sexual attractiveness isn't going to disintegrate, but we know we live in a youth-worshipping culture.
And we might also know that we might have completely different standards and expectations from the preceding generations, but we can't help but be aware of what our parents were up to at this age (my mother had two children at this point, and had been married for ten years).
We can't help looking over our shoulders to see how far we've come.
If I stop to assess the situation, I'm okay with what I've managed at this point. I may not have a mortgage; I haven't produced any squalling offspring; and I haven't finished my PhD.
I have Husband, two cats, two degrees, a diploma, and friends that I'm reasonably sure are better than I deserve. I'm reasonably fit and healthy; nothing has started sagging yet (not that I'm likely to post it on a blog if it does, but I'm going to take the opportunity to say now that all is well); and overall my life is a vast improvement one what it was back at the threshold of my twenties.
I'm less inclined to panic about myself, and I'd be quite happy to measure my life in terms of panic.
Thirty looms on the horizon (for a given value of loom; it's more than half a year away), and if I grumble about it from time to time I get pitying looks from the odd individual announcing to me that it is, in fact, "just another number," as though I have caved to society's expectations by viewing the next decade with such horror.
Terribly mainstream of me. Clearly I have been pummelled by the media.
Mathematically, that's sound. It really is just another number.
Socially and psychologically, I have to disagree. We really are pummelled with preconceived notions and assumptions regarding the big three-oh, and while the majority of those are complete nonsense, we still carry the weight.
We might know that we're not suddenly plummeting into a dull middle-age, but we're aware of the risk.
We might be aware that all sexual attractiveness isn't going to disintegrate, but we know we live in a youth-worshipping culture.
And we might also know that we might have completely different standards and expectations from the preceding generations, but we can't help but be aware of what our parents were up to at this age (my mother had two children at this point, and had been married for ten years).
We can't help looking over our shoulders to see how far we've come.
If I stop to assess the situation, I'm okay with what I've managed at this point. I may not have a mortgage; I haven't produced any squalling offspring; and I haven't finished my PhD.
I have Husband, two cats, two degrees, a diploma, and friends that I'm reasonably sure are better than I deserve. I'm reasonably fit and healthy; nothing has started sagging yet (not that I'm likely to post it on a blog if it does, but I'm going to take the opportunity to say now that all is well); and overall my life is a vast improvement one what it was back at the threshold of my twenties.
I'm less inclined to panic about myself, and I'd be quite happy to measure my life in terms of panic.
Subject to Change
No doubt numerous blogs start with this sort of phrase: "This is an experiment."
It's an experiment because I started another blog - a different sort of blog - several years ago, and it turned into something entirely different from what I intended. I had intended to be anonymous: I caved and told my friends about it. I had intended to be creative: I got self-conscious and caved on that as well. I intended to be honest in my observations: and I started to worry about upsetting people (which was appropriate, as I managed that almost from the word go. What can I say, it's a gift).
So I suppose that this is intended to be both more and less personal.
It's an experiment because I started another blog - a different sort of blog - several years ago, and it turned into something entirely different from what I intended. I had intended to be anonymous: I caved and told my friends about it. I had intended to be creative: I got self-conscious and caved on that as well. I intended to be honest in my observations: and I started to worry about upsetting people (which was appropriate, as I managed that almost from the word go. What can I say, it's a gift).
So I suppose that this is intended to be both more and less personal.
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