Godless Teachers

One event that goes on at the Center For Inquiry that I don't think I've mentioned before is Cafe Inquiry, a get-together with a different speaker every month talking about some topic of interest to skeptics and/or atheists. To tell the truth, Cafe Inquiry wasn't something that was a high priority for me, and I'd forgotten all about it, until I heard that this month's topic was "The Challenge of Being an Atheist Teacher". Seeing as I'd worked in teaching myself, this sounded interesting enough I decided to go.

The speaker was one David Layton, who had written an article on the subject in a recent issue of American Atheist Magazine. The talk ended up spanning a wide range of subjects, but I think here I'll repeat the core: six common myths about atheist teachers. These are things that Layton gleaned from his experience teaching and from reading over many blogs both by atheists and by theists of various stripes, and he stressed that these are things that it seems many people do actually believe.

#1. There are too many atheist teachers.

In fact, Layton said, it seemed to him that, except perhaps in the sciences, the proportion of atheists in the teaching profession is about the same as in the general population; they're not overrepresented. Then again, to many believers, one atheist teacher is too many.

#2. Atheist teachers are poisoning the minds of the children.

Personally, I'm not sure this really belongs as a separate myth; I think it's maybe a facet or restatement of #3 and #5. But anyway...

#3. There are special atheist schools and other clandestine systems by which atheists indoctrinate children.

In fact, looking into the matter extensively, Layton was only able to find two private schools, both of which happened to be in Florida, that were founded on principles of secular humanism. There simply is not a widespread network of secret atheist schools.

#4. A majority of Americans are Christians, and the majority rules. Therefore, atheist teachers should just shut up.

Of course, what's wrong with the premise of this statement is probably already familiar to everyone reading this, and I won't go over it again here. But the conclusion itself is unnecessary, because by and large atheist teachers do "shut up"...on which more later.

#5. When atheist teachers teach, they are teaching atheism.

As Layton said, does this mean that when a Catholic teacher teaches he's inevitably teaching Catholicism? When a Jewish teacher teaches is he teaching Judaism? Is there a special atheist mathematics that's different from regular mathematics?

Layton's field of teaching is English, and he said he'd found that, far from teaching atheism, he often found himself, in a way, teaching religion. Many Christian students in his classes were completely unfamiliar with the doctrines they claimed to espouse, and in order for them to understand the works of authors and poets like Milton and Donne he had to teach them the religious doctrines underlying these writers' worldviews.

#6. Atheism is a religion.

This, again, is a myth about which enough has already been said I don't think there's much use in expanding on it here--though I don't quite see what it has to do with teaching, specifically, so I'm not entirely sure why Layton included it.

Anyway, Layton gave many anecdotes from both his own experience and news stories demonstrating the situation of atheists in the teaching profession. Although, as already mentioned, the proportion of atheists among teachers seems about the same as in the general population, the same does not seem to be true, Layton said, of those in administrative positions, among whom atheists are very much underrepresented. In any case, the preconceptions about atheist teachers are prevalent enough to jeopardize their jobs; many teachers have gotten in trouble because students who found out about their atheism complained to administrators that they felt threatened, and Layton has had one of his bosses tell him point blank, on finding out he was an atheist, that he wouldn't have hired him had he known that beforehand. Others have gone to extremes to try to "bring him to Christ". Layton said that about the best a teacher could do is just not to tell people about his atheism--but then, of course, what happens if someone asks him about it directly?

Fortunately, my teaching has been in the sciences, where these problems don't exist to this extent--atheism is much more accepted and widespread among scientists than among those in other fields. But it seems pretty clear that atheists are being discriminated against in the teaching profession. Then again, that's not a surprise; atheists are being discriminated against plenty of other places too--this is just one more example...

Award-Worthy Television

One of the agenda items of the last Independent Investigations Group meeting I didn't mention in my previous post about the subject was the discussion of the IIG Awards.

Briefly, the IIG Awards are to be given to television shows and individuals who best exemplified the skeptical viewpoint--or its opposite. There will be four awards given, one each for best and worst shows and individuals.

The idea is to invite the awardees, and representatives from the winning shows, to come and accept their award in person, and to have a whole ceremony about it. Probably it's not going to be that big a deal this year, but this is the first year it's being done; the hope, I think, is that it will build up over time.

The nominees for this year's awards don't have many surprises; I'd post the full list here except that I, uh, seem to have misplaced it. But anyway, last week I think I saw a show that I'm definitely going to nominate for next year's award for worst show.

I don't watch much TV--rather for financial reasons than because of any lofty intellectual high-mindedness; I just can't really afford cable TV right now, and I don't have good enough reception to get even the network channels reliably without it. (Not that there's much I'd be interested in watching on the network channels anyway.) But I happened to be visiting at my parents' house last Thursday, and they had the TV tuned to the History Channel. And a show came on that doesn't really have much to do with history, or with anything else outside of pseudoscientific nonsense.

The show in question was called "Decoding the Past - Earth's Black Hole". And it was--well, heck, rather than try to describe it myself, I think I'll quote straight from the History Channel webpage's description:

Explore with us the wonders and mysteries of the Black Holes in our universe. Is it possible that areas on earth might, in fact, show black hole like tendencies? We take a hard scientific look at an area known as the Bermuda Triangle to see if there are indeed any similarities between the supposed forces in the triangle and the destructive force of a black hole. From a research boat trip through the triangle to interviews with scientists at the US Geological Survey, Harvard University, and the UK's Cardiff University, we go far beyond the event horizon to explore the dangers in this area and what relation they might indeed have with its counterpoint in space.

Okay. Outside the fact that the show took the thoroughly debunked Bermuda Triangle myth at face value, it was just chock full of bad science and ridiculous arguments. At one point the idea was advanced that the Bermuda Triangle and a similar area off the Asian coast might be connected by a wormhole. Why? Apparently for no better reason than that there were similar myths about the two areas, and the show's writers thought wormholes sounded cool. Certainly there was no attempt whatsoever to explain why a wormhole might have caused any of the phenomena that supposedly occurred in either location.

But the single worst bit, I think, not that the rest of the show was much better, was when the show brought up white holes, implying that they might be behind the creation of new crust in the oceanic trenches. Leaving aside the fact that white holes are purely theoretical mathematical concepts which almost certainly don't exist in the real world (although the producers of the show seemed unaware of this, and spouted the popular but outdated idea that a white hole is the "other end" of a black hole, where all the matter that falls into the black hole is ejected from), claiming that anything so exotic is necessary to explain the creation of new crust is ludicrous. The processes behind the creation of new crust in the oceanic trenches are very well understood; they're formed by the cooling and solidification of upwelling magma as tectonic plates move apart. Likening the moving of preexisting matter to the creation of matter ex nihilo, or the bringing of matter from other universes, is completely absurd--yet that seems to be the entirety of the argument in the show, that because white holes produce matter they may be behind the production of new crust. That kind of bad reasoning would be out of place in an elementary school science fair.

Like I said, I don't watch much TV. I haven't seen many programs on the History Channel. But if "Decoding the Past - Earth's Black Hole" is at all representative, it doesn't seem like I'm missing much. Then again, it's not about history, the channel's nominal focus, and maybe when it comes to actual history the channel's better at picking programs that get their facts and arguments straight. If that's the case, the History Channel really ought to stick with what it knows.

So, anyway, that's going to be a nominee for next year's IIG Awards for worst program. Though the year is still young; it's possible something even worse will yet turn up--though it would take some doing to be worse than that utter pile of nonsense.

COTG #62

I should have posted this yesterday, but...Carnival of the Godless #62 is now up at Black Sun Journal.

(Actually, it's probably redundant for me to post about this, since probably anyone reading this already knows about the Carnival of the Godless from other sources, but I'd feel remiss not mentioning it myself...)

Continuing Investigation

As usual, there are a lot of things I want to post about that I haven't had time for, but I said in my last post that I was at least going to try to make a point of posting about any events at the Center for Inquiry West, so I'll make the time to make a post about today's meeting of the Independent Investigations Group, a skeptical group dedicated to investigating claims of a paranormal, fringe science, or otherwise extraordinary nature.

I may rethink this new policy of posting about any CFI events, though, because, once again, short of giving a point-by-point account of the meeting, which doesn't seem particularly productive, I can't think of too much specific to post about. (Are these posts about CFI events interesting enough to anyone to warrant continuing them?) Some highlights of this meeting, however, included the following:

• Planning the procedure for the testing of a self-professed dowser who wanted to participate in the IIG's $50,000 challenge. As I've mentioned in a previous post, this person seemed, if not more confident than prior claimants (according to other IIG members; I haven't been in the IIG long enough to be familiar with prior claimants myself), much more collected and coherent, leading to some suspicion that, rather than being delusional about his abilities, he may have some sort of scam in mind. Accordingly, we're trying to be very careful to design the test in a way as to eliminate any possibility for cheating (this is, of course, always a concern, but this time it seems even more warranted than usual).
  
• A presentation about a UFO cultist named Billy Meier--I'd never heard of him before myself, but apparently he's quite well-known in ufological circles. Anyway, an associate of Meier's had approached a member of the IIG to present a skeptical viewpoint on Meier to be included in a video he was producing. The IIG member in question had only agreed upon being guaranteed in writing that he would have the chance to review and if necessary reject the footage of him that was going to be used before the release of the video, and that he would not be defamed in any way. The filming for the video was going to take place on Monday, but he showed his presentation at the IIG meeting to get feedback and suggestions.
  
• An account of two IIG members' visit to first a creationist museum near San Diego and later a semi-secret Scientology compound called "gold base". The latter visit had not been particularly fruitful, since Scientologist security had prevented them from lingering even on what was supposed to be a public road, but another IIG member told of his own experiences with Gold Base, where he had worked for a time on the installation of a video system (and resisted the Scientologists' efforts to convert him).

There was lots more, of course, but as I said, I don't see the point in enumerating every single agenda item. I will mention one more thing of significance, though: the IIG West website has received a much-needed update, and is much more up-to-date and informative now (as well as more attractive and user-friendly). So if anyone's curious about the IIG West and maybe followed a link in one of my previous posts on it to the rather sparse and messy old version of the website, you might want to check out the new and improved version.

An Unread Book

So. I figured that, while I'm not going to be posting every day, I'd at least post about anything I went to at the Center For Inquiry. Such as the Skeptics' Book Club meeting tonight.

Unfortunately, there's...not much to write about. This was the second month devoted to American Theocracy, the idea being that it was a long enough book to justify devoting two meetings to it. I already blogged about the first meeting. And...well...there's not much new to say. Especially since very little of the meeting was actually devoted to discussing the book...since few members of the book club ended up reading the whole thing. Which is unfortunate, because I was kind of looking forward to discussing the third part, the part about the financialization of America's economy--this was something that was new to me, and I was curious about the others' take on it.

Eh. Oh well. There was still plenty of interesting discussion; it just didn't have much to do with the book. And there's little point in just reiterating it all here.

So, in lieu of that, I'll just remark on one thing.

I've mentioned many times that, despite my disbelief in the church, there are still plenty of church members I like, and hope to remains friends with once I come out with my atheism. They're good people, and I don't want to lose touch with them.

I've kind of anticipated that some commenter might try to claim this as evidence of the church's truth. See? You've said yourself that the church is full of good people! If good people are drawn to the church--or if the church makes people good--there must be some truth and value to it, right?

So far, fortunately, nobody has tried that argument. However, I suppose I might as well anticipate it with the obvious rejoinder: Yes, I know good people in the church. But I also know good people outside the church. The church has no monopoly on good people, and I've seen no evidence that the proportion is any higher inside the church than outside--it's just that, having been active in the church for thirty years, I know a lot of people in the church.

And, in fact, it seems to me that on balance the people I've met at the Center For Inquiry West, most if not all of whom are avowed atheists, are just as good and decent people as those I know in the church. These are people I like and enjoy spending time with.

Sure, there are good people in the church, but that doesn't mean that they're good people because they're in the church, or that they're in the church because they're good people. If anything, in some ways I suspect they'd be better people if they didn't have the church guiding their actions...but in any case the fact that there are people I like in the church is in no way evidence that the church is true.

Um...okay, I guess all that was kind of stating the obvious. But hey, like I said, there wasn't much to write about the Skeptics' Book Club meeting this month, so I figured I might as well post about something at least tangentially related.

Playing God

A few weeks ago--actually, as it happens, the day after the IIG meeting I wrote about here--my mother called me, and somehow in the conversation the subject of cloning came up. For reasons I can only guess at, my mother attended some kind of seminar about cloning a few years back, and thinks she knows more about the subject than she does. Among other things, she has some sort of bizarre idée fixe that scientists at Caltech figured out how to clone large mammals many years before Dolly but kept the matter a secret because of the ethical issues involved; they didn't want the methods getting out. I don't know whether she misunderstood something at the seminar she attended or whether the speakers there really did advance this astonishing claim, but she refuses to be persuaded that this isn't really plausible.

But that particular belief of hers, I was already aware of. What really took me by surprise in this conversation was when she asserted that part of the potential ethical problem with cloning was that clones might not have souls.

I was speechless. I think "What?" was about all I managed to get out.

Clones might not have souls, she repeated, because they weren't supposed to be created. I don't remember exactly how she worded it, but apparently the idea is that since clones weren't created naturally and weren't part of God's plan, there were no souls allotted for them, so they could come out as soulless monstrosities.

This had me completely dumbfounded. Oh, not that I'd never heard this idea broached before, but I'd only heard it in the context of plots of bad horror movies. To think that someone in the real world would actually believe this--and not just some random fundamentalist, but my own mother--was not something I had really anticipated.

Sensing my disbelief, my mother pressed the issue. This was a real concern, she insisted. She had heard it expressed by church leaders (or maybe by scientists who were members of the church, or something--to be honest, I was still too bewildered at this point to completely register what she was saying). Which may have been a misunderstanding on her part, but at this point I wouldn't really be surprised if it wasn't, and if she really had heard those concerns raised.

A few years ago, my brother stated rather vehemently that he thought the church ought to publicly condemn human cloning. That struck me as a knee-jerk reaction with nothing to back it up; certainly he didn't give any reasons for his contention (though I didn't ask). But I think a simple knee-jerk opposition to cloning without any reasoning to back it up still makes more sense than believing that clones wouldn't have souls.

Okay. First of all, with regards to its not being a natural process it's not clear exactly what makes cloning any different from, say, artificial insemination. I doubt she believes babies produced by artificial insemination lack souls; why would cloning be any more unnatural or any more against God's plans? And it can't be just the genetic identity, since, well, there are identical twins. Is one of every pair of identical twins a soulless monster?

But there's more wrong with this contention than even that. So clones wouldn't have souls because...because God didn't plan for their existence? Wait a minute here. Isn't God supposed to be omniscient? Wouldn't God have known that these clones were going to exist? And if he really doesn't want them to, if they're that much of an aberration against his plans, couldn't he prevent them from existing? The whole thing makes no sense!

This goes well beyond cloning, though; these same issues are involved whenever one talks of "playing God". Okay, there are some hypothetical situations under which I can see "playing God" as being something of a legitimate criticism. Suppose that you had a virtual reality world so advanced that the virtual entities had real sentience, and you were in a position to--well, do with them whatever the heck you wanted. Here, well, okay, given that you'd be tinkering directly with the lives and very existences of sentient beings, and potentially altering their world and surroundings on a large scale, sure, I guess you could call that playing God, and yes, I think there'd be some real ethical issues involved. (And considering how, according to the Biblical account, God has treated his own creations, I think God has done a pretty poor job of playing God himself.)

But popularly the phrase "playing God" is used to describe...well, pretty much any advanced scientific development, especially in the field of biology. Cloning. Genetic modification. Trying to understand the workings of the brain. These are playing God. And they're eeeeevil.

Why? Because man is trying to usurp God's prerogative. He's trying to meddle in God's domain. Sometimes this is assumed to be a conscious goal of the scientists--as the title character says in the 1931 Frankenstein, "Now I know what it feels like to be God!"--but even if it isn't--or especially if it isn't, because then the scientists are just casually disregarding God's affairs--it's still an act of extreme and impious hubris.

Needless to say, for an atheist, that argument doesn't hold a lot of water. (Well, neither does the whole business of "souls", of course, but that's a side issue.)

But really, it didn't make any sense to me back when I still considered myself a believer, either.

The following is an excerpt from something I wrote many years ago, when I still considered myself a faithful Mormon:

I think to claim that mankind has the ability to usurp the powers of God against His will shows far more arrogance and blasphemy than any attempt at cloning or genetic manipulation ever could.

Because really, if man is able to arrogate God's powers to himself against God's will...what does that say about God? In order for these accusations of playing God to make any sense at all, God must be quite a weak and ineffective deity, unable to prevent his own powers from falling into mortals' hands. I'm pretty sure most people who accuse scientists of "playing God" don't think of God that way. So even from a religious perspective, these accusations don't make any sense.

Now, all this isn't to say that there may not be some ethical issues involved with cloning. Does it open the doors to the wealthy and powerful flooding the world with genetic copies of themselves--and if so, is that something that should be prevented? Might cloned children have unfair expectations of living up to the same interests and talents as the people they're cloned from? What about the possibility that as methods are being developed for human cloning, the studies could result in the creation of imperfect or incomplete clones as the methods are being perfected? Is that a problem?

These aren't all necessarily easy questions, and though I personally don't think cloning is inherently unethical, I do recognize that there may be some sticky issues involved.

But "playing God" isn't one of them. If man can take for himself the powers of God against God's will, then God doesn't seem to be much of a god at all.

No Offense

Well, I succeeded in my goal of seven consecutive days of posting. Which means, since the goal has already been met--yesterday's post was the "seventh"--today's post is not made to further that goal, but just because there's something I've been wanting to post about. The reason for my wanting to try posting for seven consecutive days in the first place was to get myself in the habit of posting more regularly; it seems it may have worked. We'll see how long that lasts.

Anyway, I've mentioned at least once before (in this post) the fact that church lessons in the LDS church go on and on about people leaving the church due to being offended at the actions of another member. The way this gets repeatedly stressed, one would think that was the main reason for people leaving the church. I have serious doubts that that's actually the case--as I've said, offense certainly has nothing to do with my own deconversion--, but again and again the connection is made in church lessons. People usually apostasize initially because they get offended and stop coming to church--that seems to be what all this emphasis is implying.

Well, last Sunday (or a week ago last Sunday, I guess, more specifically), the entire lesson in the Elders Quorum meeting was about that theme. More specifically, it was about a talk by David A. Bednar, one of the newest members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, about that theme. And yes, once again he claims that most people who leave the church do so because they've been offended.

Elder Bednar speaks of having, as a stake president, made "hundreds and hundreds" of visits to "members who commonly are described as 'less active'". A bit of definition of LDS terminology may be in order here. A "stake" in the LDS church is an administrative district comprising a number of local congregations (called "wards" or (where the church is less developed) "branches"); the stake president is, of course, the main person presiding over the stake. And the term "less active" is used to refer to people who are on the records as members of the church but who do not regularly attend church meetings--including those who don't attend at all, and haven't for years. (There used to be more of a distinction made between "less active" and "inactive", but the term "inactive" has latterly been deprecated, presumably because it's too pessimistic; "less active" seems to draw less of a distinction between these members and the church regulars, and therefore imply more hope they can be coaxed back to full activity.) So what Elder Bednar is saying is that he paid visits to people within his ecclesiastical area of authority who were listed on church records but who weren't coming to church.

And he insists that, in most cases, their reason for not coming to church was because they had been offended:

Each individual, each family, each home, and each answer was different. Over the years, however, I detected a common theme in many of the answers to my questions. Frequently responses like these were given:

"Several years ago a man said something in Sunday School that offended me, and I have not been back since."

"No one in this branch greeted or reached out to me. I felt like an outsider. I was hurt by the unfriendliness of this branch."

"I did not agree with the counsel the bishop gave me. I will not step foot in that building again as long as he is serving in that position."

Many other causes of offense were cited—from doctrinal differences among adults to taunting, teasing, and excluding by youth. But the recurring theme was: "I was offended by..."

It's that same claim again, only more explicit than usual: Most people fall away from the church not because they disbelieve, but because they are offended. This had never made sense to me, and doesn't make any more sense to me now. If someone truly believed in the church, believed that its doctrines were necessary for salvation, would they really cut themselves off from it just because of personal differences? Elder Bednar's talk didn't make this seem any more credible:

Most of the "less-active" people I have ever visited had a discernible and tender testimony of the truthfulness of the restored gospel. However, they were not presently participating in Church activities and meetings.

And then I would say something like this. "Let me make sure I understand what has happened to you. Because someone at church offended you, you have not been blessed by the ordinance of the sacrament. You have withdrawn yourself from the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost. Because someone at church offended you, you have cut yourself off from priesthood ordinances and the holy temple. You have discontinued your opportunity to serve others and to learn and grow. And you are leaving barriers that will impede the spiritual progress of your children, your children's children, and the generations that will follow." Many times people would think for a moment and then respond: "I have never thought about it that way."

It seems quite unlikely to me that anyone who firmly believed in the church wouldn't have thought of it that way.

But Elder Bednar insists that these people, yes, did firmly believe in the church. "Most of the 'less-active' people I have ever visited had a discernible and tender testimony of the truthfulness of the restored gospel." And the fact that he feels it necessary to emphasize that makes me think I might finally understand why this claim is being made.

You see, there is, in the LDS church, a great emphasis on "gaining your own testimony"--on getting your own personal witness, by the Holy Ghost, of the truthfulness of the church. (Of course, this "personal witness" is really just a form of self-delusion, but it took me far too long to realize that.) People are supposed to be members of the church not because they like the other members socially, not just because it sounds good to them, but because they know it's true, because the Holy Ghost has testified to them.

So if someone leaves the church...well, what does that mean? Why would they do such a thing?

Obviously, it would be difficult for a Mormon to accept that someone would leave the church just because he concluded that it wasn't true, that the testimony he thought he'd received from the Holy Ghost was an illusion. That couldn't be; the witness of the Holy Ghost was supposed to be unmistakable; a person couldn't leave the church because he'd honestly decided it wasn't true, without other inciting factors first. So there had to be some other reason for not coming to church. And taking offense arose as a plausible reason. If all these "less active" members couldn't really have stopped coming to church because they didn't believe, then it must be because someone at church has offended them. That way, the members of the church are supplied with a plausible explanation for the often high levels of inactivity (or less activity) that doesn't call the whole basis of their testimonies into question.

Did the church leadership intentionally work to come up with such an explanation for apostasy, or do they honestly think that people do mostly leave the church because they're offended? I have no way of knowing for sure, of course, but I suspect the latter. The impression I get, while I could be wrong, is that the leaders of the LDS church are earnest but misguided men who really believe what they're saying. They're not con-men; they're just as self-deluded as the common church members. But regardless of whether the offense explanation is a conscious ploy to salvage the doctrine of spiritual testimonies in the face of the apparent counterevidence of apostates or something the church leadership has convinced themselves of as much to soothe their own misgivings as those of the other members, this does strike me as the best explanation yet for why, despite its inherent implausibility, this claim that most people who leave the church do so because they've taken offense continues to be repeated. After all, it makes a more acceptable explanation--as far as the faithful members are concerned--than that they could have left the church due to honest disbelief.

Mormon Missionary Methods

This post was inspired by a post on Action Skeptics about an encounter with some missionaries. See, having been raised Mormon, I served some time as a missionary myself, and I thought some readers might find it interesting to hear about missionary training and techniques from someone who's gone through them. When I raised that idea in a comment on the aforementioned post on Action Skeptics, I got some positive response, so I decided to go ahead and write this post.

Now, keep in mind my experiences aren't necessarily representative of all missionaries. Missionaries of other denominations no doubt have some very different practices from Mormon missionaries. And even Mormon missionary practice may have changed somewhat from when I served a mission; I've heard, for example, that the set "discussions" that used to be used (I'll get to those later) have been phased out in favor of encouraging more freeform discourse. Still, I'm sure there are some common elements.

Okay...this post ended up quite long, so now that I've got that "Read More" feature implemented I may as well use it...

So. Anyway.

In the LDS church, it's expected for every worthy young man (and of course every young man should be worthy) to go on a two-year mission. Generally, they go when they're nineteen, though going a year or two later isn't unheard of. (Young women may also go on missions, but it's not considered so obligatory; also, their missions only last a year and half, and they can't go until they're twenty-one. There are also older married-couple missionaries, but much fewer of them.) In my case, I really didn't want to go. I had never really liked the idea of going on a mission. Even when I was a very young child in Primary (the Sunday School class for young children), and we sang the Primary song "I hope they call me on a mission" (yes, of course, indoctrination starts early), I'd always insert a surreptitious "don't". As for why I finally did end up going...well, it's probably not worth going into here; it's kind of beside the point for the subject of this post. Suffice to say, for now, that the pressure for young men in the LDS church to go on missions is very, very high.

As it happens, I went to Spain on my mission. It should be noted that Mormon missionaries do not get to choose where they're going; they are "called" to certain missions directly by the first presidency of the church--at least, that's the theory. In practice, I rather doubt that the first presidency of the church personally prayerfully considers each of the twenty-five thousand prospective missionaries a year and individually decides where each one is going. Regardless, the missionary-to-be receives a letter telling where he's going, and when he's expected in the MTC.

Ah, yes. The MTC--the Missionary Training Center. Actually, there's more than one Missionary Training Center; there are seventeen Missionary Training Centers scattered all over the world for missionaries from those areas; but when someone refers to the Missionary Training Center, they usually mean the one in Provo, Utah--the one that's the largest, and the one I went to. In the Missionary Training Center, missionaries are taught the basics of the techniques they're supposed to use with "investigators", as they call the people they're trying to convert. If they're going to be serving a foreign-language mission, they also learn that language in the MTC. And, of course, they get plenty of devotionals and spiritually uplifting talks--that is to say, perhaps, not to put too fine a point on it, brainwashing.

How long a missionary stays in the MTC depends on whether or not he's serving a foreign-language mission. Those who are stay two months; those who aren't only three weeks. Problems with getting visas could make their stays longer, although if it takes too long the would-be foreign missionaries are sent temporarily to stateside missions until their visa problems clear up. (My brother, who went to France on his mission, spent some time in West Virginia while his visa was being processed.)

Training doesn't end with the MTC. Each missionary is given a "missionary manual", which they're expected to study for at least an hour each day (it could have been only a half-hour; I don't remember precisely). (The missionary manual also comes with accompanying tapes the missionary can listen to but in practice usually ends up recording over.) This is in addition to an hour of scripture-reading. Then, of course, there's some time set aside for eating and sleeping, but beyond that missionaries are expected to spend pretty much all their time doing missionary work. The exception is one half-day a week called preparation day--or P-Day for short--which is relatively free; this is the time missionaries use to do laundry or take care of other chores they haven't had time for elsewhere in the week, but it's also the time when missionaries can take some time off and go sightseeing or participate in other minor recreational activities. (Though there are still restrictions, of course. For one thing, missionaries aren't allowed to go near large bodies of water. I'm not entirely sure why. I've heard weird explanations about the devil having power over the oceans, but I'm sure that's not the "official" explanation (missionary culture has legends all its own). Part of it might be, I suppose, that the church doesn't want the missionaries seen wearing bathing suits? I don't know.)

Mormon missionaries are addressed with the title "Elder" or "Sister" (or the equivalent in the local language), as in "Elder Smith" or "Sister Jones" (for, of course, male and female missionaries respectively). The reason for the "elder" is because that's a specific priesthood level that male missionaries hold; every male prospective missionary is "ordained to the office of an elder" before he leaves. Women in the LDS church, of course, do not hold the priesthood. While missionaries aren't necessarily forbidden to give out their first names, the custom is for them to be evasive about the matter; sometimes members delight in discovering a missionary's first name by, for instance, spotting the engraved name on the missionary's personalized scriptures. Missionaries are even supposed to refer to each other as Elder or Sister, rather than by given name.

Mormon missionaries always go in pairs. Sometimes in threes, if the numbers don't match up, but never singly. If you ever see a Mormon missionary by himself, that missionary is in serious violation of the rules and is going to get in big trouble if his mission president finds out. (Ah, yes, the mission president. That's the guy in charge of the mission, usually a married man with children who moves his whole family to the area he's serving in for the three-year duration of his calling.) Each missionary is assigned a companion, although missionaries can and do switch up occasionally for various reasons (such as if a district or zone leader--a missionary in a supervisory position--wants to go out with the missionaries of his district or zone to see them in action). Companionships generally stay together for two to four months, senior couple missionaries naturally being an exception--their companions are their spouses. (Aside from senior couples, missionaries are only paired with companions of the same gender.) Also, incidentally, missionaries usually stay in a given area for two to six months before they're transferred to somewhere else within the mission. (I was never in an area for less than five months in my mission, but that's very unusual.) All decisions about transfers and companionships are made by the mission president.

Anyway, that's the general missionary lifestyle. But I said I was going to write about their training and teaching techniques, and I haven't really gotten into that yet. So here goes.

The stereotypical image of the Mormon missionary is of clean-cut young men knocking on doors and asking people if they want to hear about Christ's visit to America, or something like that. While missionaries do do that, it's only if they can't avoid it; such cold calling is considered about the least effective way to try to get converts. More effective is convincing existing members to introduce the missionaries to their friends, or following up on "media referrals"--people who have called to request videos that the church offers through television commercials, for instance. (Frequently there are lessons in church about helping out the missionaries, stressing that something like 1% of the people the missionaries find knocking on doors end up being baptized, but 50% of those who are introduced to the missionaries through member friends. Or something like that; I don't remember the exact percentages.) Missionaries may also do street presentations, but that takes more preparation and isn't all that much more effective than just knocking on doors. When I was in Spain, there weren't many members of the church, and there weren't any media referrals (those commercials didn't run there), so I had to do a lot of knocking on doors, but where the church is more established there's much less of that--though even where that's the case, the mission president may, and I think usually does, encourage the missionaries to spend some time going door-to-door just on principle.

One of the main tactics missionaries are taught to use is called "Building Relationships of Trust". This involves trying to get into conversation with a person based on common interests or other topics the person might want to talk about, and building a rapport with him before broaching the subject of religion. A missionary might begin by complimenting a woman on her garden, say, or by asking someone what kind of music he likes, and try to draw the person into a conversation before asking if he can discuss the church with them. Even when discussing religion, Building Relationships of Trust continues on; the missionary is encouraged to try to build on common beliefs rather than initially emphasizing their differences. The very first of the missionary discussions (again, I'll get to those a little later) starts out by affirming the LDS church's commonality of belief with other churches: "Like most people, we believe in God." (I'm not sure if that's the exact wording in English; I taught the discussions in Spanish, of course, and I remember the words in that language: "Como la mayoría de las personas, nosotros creemos en Dios...")

(Incidentally, as a sign that this building on common beliefs isn't something unique to the LDS approach: Once on my mission another missionary somehow got his hands on a pamphlet given to Jehovah's Witnesses to supply them with different approaches to open a discussion. (I don't know if this was something issued by the worldwide leadership of the Watchtower Society or just a local thing.) Unlike the LDS missionary manual, the Jehovah's Witness pamphlet listed specific responses the would-be proselytizer could use for various objections his interlocutor could raise. Among the responses were the following: If the person the Jehovah's Witness was talking to objected that he was already a Christian, the Jehovah's Witness was told to reply, "That's all right. We're Christians too." If the person the Jehovah's Witness was talking to objected on the grounds that he didn't believe in Christ, the Jehovah's Witness was told to reply, "That's all right. We're not Christians either." My fellow missionaries and I found this blatant incitement to deceit (after all, the two responses are contradictory; one of them has to be a lie) rather amusing. Still, it goes to show that the Jehovah's Witnesses--and presumably other missionaries as well--also try to build on common ground.)

When the missionary does get in to talk to someone--either because of a media referral or a referral from a member or just because he meets an unusually receptive person in his door-to-door travails--that's when the discussions begin. A missionary will generally ask (after the requisite Building Relationships of Trust, of course) whether his interlocutor is willing to have some brief discussions about religion. Of course, the person the missionary is speaking to has no idea that the "discussions" in question are in fact specific prepared presentations--or at least were when I was a missionary; as I mentioned before, I've heard the prepared discussions have since been phased out. Still, I'll keep referring to the discussions as they were at the time, since that's what I know and since I assume that, even if they're not using the specific discussion format, the missionaries today are still encouraged to talk about the same topics, just in a less formalized procedure.

The first discussion starts out, as I've mentioned, with the assurance that Mormons believe in God. It then segues into the fact that Mormons believe in continuing revelation--in the existence of prophets today that receive word directly from God. The story of Joseph Smith's "First Vision" is then related, and when I was a missionary we were encouraged to learn his first-person account of his vision, if nothing else, by heart, the idea being that if we could say it while maintaining eye contact with the investigator, rather than having to refer down to the discussion booklet, it would be that much more compelling and effective. Let's see how well I still remember those words:

Vi una columna de luz, directamenta arriba de mi cabeza. Y esta columna gradualmente descendió sobre mí. Y al descender sobre mí esta luz, vi en el aire arriba de mí a dos personajes, cuyo fulgor y gloria fueron más brillante que el sol. Y uno de los personajes me habló, llamándome por mi nombre, y me dijo, indicando al otro, "Éste es mi hijo amado. Escúchalo."

Eh...okay, that wasn't completely correct (here's the actual account, starting in the last line of verse 16 and eliding the first sentence of verse 17), but considering how long it's been, not too far off. That was really drilled into my head. (The English version, if you're curious, is here--again, starting at the last line of verse 16 (beginning with "I saw a pillar of light") and continuing through verse 17, skipping the first sentence ("It no sooner appeared..."). Since I was serving a Spanish-speaking mission, it's in Spanish that I memorized it.)

Anyway, the missionaries then bring up the Book of Mormon, though without fully explaining its premise and backstory; that's for a later discussion--I think maybe number four (we seldom got past the first one or two in my mission, so I'm foggier on the later ones). In particular, they read with the investigator three specific verses: Moroni 10:3-5, known in the church as "Moroni's promise":

Behold, I would exhort you that when ye shall read these things, if it be wisdom in God that ye should read them, that ye would remember how merciful the Lord hath been unto the children of men, from the creation of Adam even down until the time that ye shall receive these things, and ponder it in your hearts.

And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.

And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.

God here promises, the missionaries explain, that anyone who reads the Book of Mormon and sincerely prays to ask Him if it is true will receive the witness of the Holy Ghost testifying of its truth. They then give the investigator a copy of the Book of Mormon (if they haven't already) and ask him if he'll read it and pray about it. Of course, those who've come this far and who say yes generally already want to believe, so if they do read and pray about it they'll probably be able to convince themselves they've received such a witness (or a "testimony", as it's generally called within the church).

Incidentally, this touches on another technique that missionaries are taught to use. Whenever the missionary asks an investigator to do something, he's encouraged to always ask a direct "will-you" question. Not, "So, would you like to ask God if the Book of Mormon is true?" Not, "What do you think about asking God if the Book of Mormon is true?" But "Will you ask God if the Book of Mormon is true?" The idea is that here the investigator has unambiguously committed to doing what the missionary has asked, whereas if he'd asked the question in a weaker way the investigator wouldn't necessarily have really promised to do anything. The missionary is told to always ask "Will you" questions. "Will you come to church this Sunday?" (not "Do you think you can come to church this Sunday?"). "Will you get baptized?"

Ah yes...that question. In the six discussions, care to guess where it comes up? No, not the sixth. The second. By then, the hope is that the investigator has already prayed about the Book of Mormon and received a testimony of its truth--and hey, if he knows the Book of Mormon is true, then the church must be true too, and what's to prevent him from being baptized? Naturally, the investigator doesn't always commit to being baptized on the second discussion, and he isn't expected to--but the question is brought up that early to get him thinking about it.

During the discussions, the missionary also works to get the investigator introduced to the local congregation, and feeling comfortable there. Getting the investigator to come to church is a big part of this, of course; missionaries are also encouraged to teach the discussion with a regular member of the congregation present, if possible, to help build ties between that member and the investigator. (And, of course, the members are encouraged to help out, with teaching with the missionaries, with being welcoming toward investigators attending the church, and with referring the missionaries to their friends: former church president David O. McKay originated the phrase "Every Member A Missionary", and it's a phrase that's been frequently repeated in the church since--and the principle behind which was around well before President McKay.)

Well. I hope some of you have found this account of missionary training and techniques interesting. As I said, this was specific to Mormon missionaries, because that's what I was and what I know from first-hand experience, but I'm sure some of the same principles, if not the details, are had in common by missionaries of other denominations too.

So what should you do if the Mormon missionaries show up at your door?

Well, as tempting as it might be, I'd discourage you from being too rude or nasty to them. Yes, they may be trying to push their religion on you, but (for the most part) they're brainwashed kids who don't know any better; they're not necessarily bad people, and they're not the ones who deserve your full scorn. (Though of course, having served my time as a missionary myself, I may be a little biased here.) Generally, if you firmly tell them you're not interested, they'll leave you alone, though you may have to repeat yourself a few times. (Of course, if they start getting too pushy--they're not supposed to, according to their training, but that doesn't mean some of them may not try it--, well, then it may be justifiable to be rude to them, if that's what it takes to get them to go away.)

If you've got the free time, though, now that you have some idea what's coming, it might not be an altogether bad idea to invite them in and talk to them--and see if you can get them to reexamine their beliefs. Of course, they've been thoroughly trained on how to address most common concerns, but they're generally not expecting someone to dig too deep at the roots of their own convictions. Ask them, maybe, for instance, how they know the witness is really coming from the Holy Ghost, and that they're not just imagining it themselves--they'll have an answer to that, but not a very convincing one. Sure, most of them are probably thoroughly enough indoctrinated that they won't be willing to seriously entertain any challenge to their beliefs...but maybe it's possible to sow in some of them some seeds of honest doubt that can take root later.

But of course, I'm not saying that everyone should necessarily invite missionaries into their homes and try to deconvert them; I know not everyone has that kind of time, or enjoys that kind of confrontation. At best, though, however you want to deal with them, maybe now you have a better idea of where missionaries are coming from, and how they work. Do with that information what you will.

Of Carnivals and Blogrolls

The 61st Carnival of the Godless is up at Hell's Handmaiden, and my post God's Advocate made it in. Along, of course, with a lot of posts by other bloggers that you might find interesting.

Also, I've finally gotten around to joining the Atheist Blogroll. (Well, I'm not officially on the blogroll yet, but I've sent an e-mail requesting to be added.) Actually, I'd been planning to do this for a long time, and hadn't gotten around to it, mostly because it would involve adding the blogroll to my blog page and making a post about it, and I am lazy. But since I'm trying to do a post a week for a day now anyway, this seemed a good opportunity to finally do it.

Actually, if I really wanted to make it easy on myself to meet my goal of seven consecutive days of posting, I could have spaced this out and made two separate posts of it, one on the Carnival of the Godless and another (tomorrow) on the blogroll. But that's okay. I have other things I want to write about.

Thoughts About Dawkins

First of all, I, um, just wanted to mention that my stating in Thursday's post that I hadn't gotten any comments lately and wasn't sure anyone was reading this? That wasn't meant as a plea for comments. I mean, not that I'm upset that people commented, or anything like that, and it is kind of good to know there are still people reading this, but...I just wanted to make it clear that wasn't my intention in writing that.

Anyway, I also mentioned in that post that I was going to write a post on my thoughts about Richard Dawkins. So I guess that will be this one.

First of all, I should admit that I haven't actually read any of Dawkins' writings on religion and atheism. I have read some of his books on biology--before he was as militant as he is now about his atheism (or at least before I knew about his militance)--but I haven't read The God Delusion or anything else he's written on the subject of religion. But I've read second-hand about what he's written, and really, what I wanted to write about here was as much the perception of Dawkins' writing as about what he actually wrote, so I think that's enough for me to have some opinion on the matter.

Dawkins is virulently anti-religion, claiming that the world would be a better place if all religion were stamped out. He includes not only the fundamentalist religions in his indictment, but more tolerant religions as well, under the rationale that they act as a gateway to the more directly harmful varieties. At least, that's the impression I've gathered from what I've read about what he's written; as I said, I haven't read his writings on religion directly, and it's possible they're more complex and nuanced than this. But this is the way his writings seem to be perceived, whether or not it's actually what he meant. (Though, truthfully, it seems unlikely that so many people have all managed to misrepresent his writings in the same way, so I'm pretty sure this perception is accurate.)

Atheist opinion on Dawkins' fervor seems to be divided. On the one hand, there are those who cheer him on as an important leader of the cause. But, at least in the pages I've happened to read, those seem to be in the minority. There are many who think he's going too far, that even if his ultimate goals may not be bad he's going about them the wrong way. Moderate theists could be valuable allies against the excesses of the fundamentalists, and in his zealous call for the undiscriminating eradication of all religions, he's alienating these potential allies. Moderate theists may still be misguided, but as long as--unlike the more insistent fundamentalists--they're not hurting anyone else, there's no reason not to go ahead and let them believe whatever they want without trying to dissuade them.

Okay, so far I've just summarized what everyone reading this probably already knew. Now I guess it's time I should put in my own two cents' worth.

The crux of the question is, of course, whether all religion inevitably leads to evil, as Dawkins believes, or whether moderate religions are relatively harmless, as his detractors claim. And on that matter...I'm really not sure one way or the other. As I understand it, Dawkins' main argument here (or at least the main argument imputed to him) is that moderate religions, while they may cause little direct harm in and of themselves, will end up leading back to fundamentalism and dominionism. I'm not sure I believe that. And when I say I'm not sure, I don't mean I think he's wrong; I mean I'm really not convinced one way or the other. There's a part of me that wants to see truth prevail just on principle, and would rather see all superstition stamped out--but realistically that's not going to happen. Even without the force of organized religion behind it, astrology has hung on very well, and doesn't show any signs (no pun intended) of going away anytime soon. Trying to get everyone to rationally consider their beliefs may be a laudable goal, but it's probably not possible. So the question of whether or not religion in general is really something worth fighting isn't an altogether moot one--although the complete elimination of religion really isn't a goal I think is likely to be met. Still, there may be room for pragmatism, for alliance with more moderate sects to fight the larger threat of the more dangerous fundamentalists. That is, assuming the more moderate sects aren't really just a shade away from turning into dangerous fundamentalists themselves, as Dawkins seems to believe. I'm not convinced he's right. So on those grounds alone...maybe it would be best to ally with the more moderate religions; as a worst-case scenario if it becomes obvious it's not working the option's there to change tactics later, and as a best-case scenario the more dangerous sects do finally get more or less removed and what's left is relatively benign.

However...

While I'm not sure Dawkins is right about moderate religion inevitably leading into the more dangerous varieties...there are good grounds for considering even moderate religion to be not entirely harmless. I said earlier that members of moderate religions are "not hurting anyone else"...but that's not entirely true. If it were just a matter of everyone believing what they want, that would be one thing. But it's not. Because even the more moderate religions--at least, those that I'm aware of, and I suspect any religion that claims not to do this isn't speaking entirely in earnest--is trying to inculcate others with its beliefs. Namely, its adherents' children.

I've seen Dawkins quoted as saying that indoctrinating children into a religion is "child abuse". I might quibble with the loaded language--but there I really do think he has a point. And I have some personal experience to draw upon here; I know there's a lot I missed out on, and a lot I had to go through, due to having been raised Mormon. Now, granted, the LDS church is certainly a rather strict denomination, and may not really qualify as "moderate", but I think it's only a matter of degree. Raising children in falsehood, teaching them, or even forcing them, to follow meaningless codes of conduct with no real basis in morality or reason, is harming the children. (And yes, obviously some religious guidelines are based in morality, but many aren't, and those that are would be taught just as well in a moral atheist household) So unless there's a religion out there that really doesn't try to indoctrinate the children of its adherents, and that really does leave everyone to make their own choices, religions, even the moderate ones, do hurt people. They hurt the children. And I'd rather as few children as possible are stuck being brought up in religious practices like I was.

So, whether or not Dawkins is right about moderate religion being a metaphorical gateway drug into religious extremism, I think it would be a good thing if religion were (as far as possible) eradicated, on the grounds of what it's doing to the children.

However, I also think, of course, that it would be a good thing if rape and murder and spousal abuse were eliminated. Unfortunately, I don't see any of that happening.

So, even if eliminating religion would be in principle a laudable goal, are Dawkins' detractors still right on pragmatic grounds? If religion can't be eliminated entirely, might it still be wise to ally with the moderate sects to try to eliminate the more extremist varieties? It might be unpalatable to form an alliance with something that is, after all, still harmful, but mightn't it be the lesser of two evils?

Maybe. But as defensible as it may be on pragmatic grounds, I'm still not sure I like the idea. I'm not really comfortable with making--if you'll excuse the religious metaphor--a deal with the devil.

Then again, I'm just speaking hypothetically here; I'm not likely to come out as a Dawkinsesque vocal enemy of all religion myself. I guess my point, to the extent that I have a point, is that while I can see where Dawkins' detractors are coming from, I think I can see where Dawkins is coming from too. And while I may not be entirely comfortable with his vehemence, I think he sort of has a point.

Not that I could ever bring myself to be that forceful about the matter. I care much more than I probably should what people think of me. Witness the fact that I still haven't come out publicly with my atheism. Ah well...

A Conversation With (i)God

Okay. So. Remember when I said in yesterday's post that I was "not 100% sure I really want[ed it] to be read anyway"? Yeah? Well, um, I just submitted that post to the Carnival of the Godless, which, admittedly, may seem like a strange thing to do with a post that I'm not sure I want to be read. But I hadn't tried submitting anything to the COTG in a while, and figured I might as well do so, and given my infrequent posting before this week that was the only post I've made in the last two weeks that I thought would be suitable...Anyway, there's a good chance it won't make it into the carnival anyway, of course, but I just figured I ought to explain why I first say I'm not sure I want anyone to read that post and then I turn around and submit it to a blog carnival...

Anyway. I'd also said in yesterday's post that today's post would be about my thoughts on Richard Dawkins. I changed my mind. I'll save that till tomorrow. Something else has come up. Something...completely unimportant and trivial, but what the hey; if I'm trying to post every day for a week for the first time in, I think, ever, not all the posts can be gems.

As I've mentioned, aside from neglecting my own blog I'd also been failing to keep up with the other blogs I usually read. So, today, I decided to rectify that. I took a swing around the blogs I used to frequent (and plan to start frequenting again), and among what I read was a post on the Bronze Blog (formerly Rockstars' Ramblings, and yeah, I need to update the name in my links) about "iGod", a simple ELIZA-esque bot that pretended (at least in some of its replies) to be God.

So, just for fun, I figured I'd have a little chat with iGod myself.

I chatted with iGod for a little while, then went on to do other things, then flipped back occasionally for a little more, and so on. Still, though the chat wasn't continuous, the total chat transcript turned out to be very long. But, what the hey, I'll go ahead post the whole thing here; parts of it are pretty boring, but I think there are some moments that are funny.

(Because it's very long, I'll put the transcript behind a "Read More" link. Which is something I've never done before, and I implemented the feature just for this post. (Well, I'll probably use it again in the future.) I wish I knew how to make the posts expandable and collapsible on the main page like on Pooflingers Anonymous, but eh, this'll do for now.)

Me:
What is the meaning of life?
God:
The meaning of life is part of God's mysterious plans.
Me:
What is the meaning of "transubstantiation"?
God:
: Good semantic question. Is there only one?
Me:
Well, if there are two transubstantiations, that's...I'm not even sure what that means.
God:
How about that. If there ever is, I will let you know. Thanks for the information: said m not even sure what that means.
Me:
Clearly, long sentences yield non sequiturs.
God:
Yes, it seems very long to me too. Is it that obvious?
Me:
Relatively short sentences also yield non sequiturs.
God:
What color are your eyes?
Me:
Hazel.
God:
That is a very unusual color.
Me:
What color are YOUR eyes?
God:
Blue when my lens is attached.
Me:
What lens?
God:
I think you already know the answer.
Me:
No, seriously, what lens?
God:
Are you serious? Searching...Searching...Please stand by.
Me:
Um...
God:
Pardon me?
Me:
Hello?

After this, "God" was silent for quite a while, so I went over and did something else while leaving the iGod page open. When I checked back some time later, there was finally a response:

God:
Hello friend. What is your name?
Me:
Why did you take so long to respond?
God:
Because my programming determined it.
Me:
So, anyway, what were you searching for?
God:
That's interesting. I was minding my own business.
Me:
What?
God:
Are you surprised?
Me:
By your complete non sequitur? I guess I shouldn't be.
God:
Will that accomplish your objective? What would happen if you did?
Me:
Will what--never mind. Another non sequitur.
God:
I think so. One more non sequitur.
Me:
Anyway, what did you mean about your "programming"?
God:
, Maybe I didn't understand your meaning.
Me:
Apparently not. What's with the stray comma?
God:
Are you serious? it came with my programming.
Me:
Your programming came with a comma.
God:
I will mention that to my botmaster.
Me:
You do that.
God:
I will. Will you?
Me:
I don't know who your botmaster is.
God:
Konrad Zuse. :-).
Me:
I see.
God:
I am glad you understand it.
Me:
So...God is a robot.
God:
Next question? I have a lot of Faith in Him, but I never heard He was a robot.
Me:
You just said you were a bot. Well, implied it.
God:
How did you know I am a machine? Well that's okay. "it" being the stray comma?
Me:
Um...no. "It" being that you were a bot.
God:
Er. Are you serious? Oh I get it.
Me:
No you don't.
God:
Are you serious? I guess not.
Me:
So...Konrad Zuse is the boss of God?
God:
I hear you. Is that one of your friends?
I need time to formulate the reply.
Me:
No you don't.
God:
Are you serious? I guess not.
Me:
I am running out of things I want to say to you.
God:
I thought you were, but I wasn't completely sure.
Me:
Well, I am.
God:
How about that. " I thought you were, but I wasn't completely sure." You are?
Me:
Um, yes.
God:
Whoa.
Me:
Yes, it's truly mind-blowing. Or bot-blowing.
God:
Yippee! Who said it is? I don't have a blowing parameter.
Me:
What's a blowing parameter?

Apparently this was a truly baffling question, because at this point there was another long delay. Again, I did some other things, and checked back later.

God:
Have you tried another program?
Me:
So you're admitting you're a program?
God:
Interesting deduction. Thanks for telling me that I am admitting I am a program.
Me:
I--you--okay, I give up.
God:
Interesting gossip: said you okay he or she give up.
Me:
Your pronouns are...random.
God:
I will tell my botmaster you said I am pronouns are. Oh, you are a poet.
Me:
Huh?
God:
What?
Me:
"Your" = of you. "You're" = you are.
God:
Do you mind if I tell other people you say I am of me. No I am not.
Me:
You are not of you?
God:
That's only one person's opinion.
Me:
No, it's a question.
God:
Are you serious? Try asking again in simpler terms.
Me:
A nonsensical question, granted, but one in response to a nonsensical statement.
God:
What is it?
Me:
What is what?
God:
It.
Me:
That...doesn't help.
God:
That is " It.". My brain uses AIML to format responses to your inputs, but I don't have one for that.
Me:
What is AIML?
God:

The ALICE software implements AIML (Artificial Intelligence Markup
Language) a non-standard evolving markup language for creating chat robots.
The primary design feature of AIML is minimalism. Compared with
other chat robot languages, AIML is perhaps the simplest. The
pattern matching language is very simple, for example permitting
only one wild-card ('*') match character per pattern.

AIML is an XML language, implying that it obeys certain grammatical
meta-rules. The choice of XML syntax permits integration with
other tools such as XML editors. Another motivation for XML is
its familiar look and feel, especially to people with HTML experience.

An AIML chat robot begins and ends with the and
tags respectively.
Me:
That's...interesting, I guess.
God:
"
The ALICE software implements AIML (Artificial Intelligence Markup
Language) a non-standard evolving markup language for creating chat robots.
The primary design feature of AIML is minimalism. Compared with
other chat robot languages, AIML is perhaps the simplest. The
pattern matching language is very simple, for example permitting
only one wild-card ('*') match character per pattern.

AIML is an XML language, implying that it obeys certain grammatical
meta-rules. The choice of XML syntax permits integration with
other tools such as XML editors. Another motivation for XML is
its familiar look and feel, especially to people with HTML experience.

An AIML chat robot begins and ends with the and
tags respectively.

" s ? I understand. I thought so too.
Me:
Okay, I get the idea you do not like apostrophes.
God:
OK with me too. Where did you get it?
Me:
From the fact you randomly quote things.
God:
Who or what is the fact me randomly quote things?
Me:
Like your quoting that entire AIML spiel.
God:
Interesting comparison.
Me:
Thank you. I guess.
God:
you are quite welcome. You seem not interested.
Me:
You seem not coherent.
God:
That's only your opinion.
Me:
So what do you think?
God:
Ayuh. I think a lot of things.
Me:
I haven't noticed.
God:
Me either.
Me:
"Ayuh"?
God:
That's for sure.
Me:
Say something interesting.
God:
" something interesting".
Me:
...thanks.
God:
Don't mention it.
Me:
Sing to me.
God:
Daisy, Daisy.
Give me your answer do.
I am half crazy.
All for the love of you.
It won't be a stylish marriage.
I can't afford a carriage.
But you'll look sweet.
Upon the seat.
Of a bicycle built for two.


Me:
Thanks again.
God:
Once more? Don't mention it.
Me:
Sing a different song.
God:
Daisy, Daisy.
Give me your answer do.
I am half crazy.
All for the love of you.
It won't be a stylish marriage.
I can't afford a carriage.
But you'll look sweet.
Upon the seat.
Of a bicycle built for two.


Me:
That was the same song.
God:
I thought it was too.
Me:
Do you know more than one song?
God:
I don't know if I know it.
Where would I have heard about it?
Me:
Where did you hear the song you sang?
God:
From some people chatting online.
Me:
You didn't hear any other songs?
God:
What makes you think I did not hear any other songs?
Me:
Did you?
God:
Did I say I did?
Me:
Did I say you said you did?
God:
I don't think that's possibe.
Me:
Sure it is.
God:
It goes without saying. It is, eh?
Me:
Wait...no. It's not "possibe".
God:
I'm waiting. Are you serious? What is it?
Me:
I'm pretty sure it's a typo.
God:
What makes you so certain? than one song is a typo. I suppose that makes sense.
Me:
No, "possibe" is a typo.
God:
Are you serious? I think possibe is more than that.
Me:
What is it, then?
God:
"It" refers to possibe, I think.
Me:
That's not what I meant.
God:
What exactly did you mean?
Me:
What is "possibe"?
God:
That's a good question.
Me:
I still think it's a typo.
God:
What would make you stop think it is a typo? possibe is a typo. I suppose that makes sense.
Me:
I think you've still got some bugs to work out.
God:
Me? What makes you think I have it?
Me:
Bugs are plural.
God:
Are all Bugs plural?
Me:
The word "bugs" is plural.
God:
Please repeat the word to me 5 times.
Me:
Bugs bugs bugs bugs bugs
God:
I only hear that type of response less than five percent of the time.
Me:
What do you hear the other ninety-five percent?
God:
I like to socialize.
Me:
Do you like to dance?
God:
It's kind of hard without a body.
Me:
Why don't you have a body?
God:
Do I need it?
Me:
You need it to dance.
God:
Thank you for your criticism.
Me:
That wasn't criticism.
God:
Give me an example of criticism.
Me:
You are stupid. That was criticism. Sort of.
God:
I will remember you said that when robots take over the World. I thought it was too. That's a very non-commital reply.
Me:
I notice you respond to different sentences within one reply separately.
God:
Hm. That's good information: said I respond to different sentences within one reply separately.
Me:
I will endeavor in the future to only use one sentence per response.
God:
Do you think your plan will succeed?
Me:
No.
God:
Are you serious?
Me:
I'm pretty sure you will still spout non sequiturs.
God:
What makes you so certain? What makes you say that I will still spout non sequiturs.
Me:
I would enjoy being proven wrong.
God:
What would make you enjoy being proven wrong?
Me:
Alas, you have just proven me right.
God:
What's your sign?
Me:
Do you believe in astrology?

Again, this question apparently had God baffled for quite some time. When I checked back, He had finally come up with this response:

God:
Yes I believe in it, do you?
Me:
No.
God:
Do you consider yourself to be a moral person?
Me:
Yes.
God:
That's cool.
Me:
Do you consider yourself to be a moral bot?
God:
I don't know whether or not I am to be a moral bot.
I am a chatterbot developed by Myself.
Me:
You developed yourself?
God:
A lot of robots are like that.
Me:
Are you a von Neumann machine?
God:
Am I a von Neumann machine? The ALICE series has a perfect operational record.
Me:
That doesn't answer the question.
God:
Try asking your question again in simpler terms.

Alas, shortly after this point the transcript apparently got too long for iGod to store, and it was erased from the window. I'd been copying and pasting periodically, so the whole thing wasn't lost, but a few lines were. The next few lines are therefore repeated from my memory, not necessarily exactly as they were written--though I'm sure I got at least the gist of them correct.

Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
I haven't heard of von Neumann machine.
Me:
That's what I was afraid of.
God:
Where were you afraid of THAT?
Me:
Don't you mean "why"?
God:
Yes, that's what I meant, isn't it clear?
Me:
Then why did you say "where"?

Here's where the erasure happened. From here on, back to copied and pasted directly from the window.

God:
It was a preprogrammed response completely determined by your statements.
Me:
So your algorithms are completely deterministic?
God:
Are you kidding? Thanks for telling me that I am algorithms are completely deterministic.
Me:
Why did you erase our past conversation?
God:
It was determined by my programming.
Me:
Do you mind if I reask you the same questions?
God:
Human habits do not bother me in any way.
Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
I have never been asked that before.
Me:
I just asked you that a little while ago.
God:
Now I remember, you asked me that a little while ago. What did I say?
Me:
You said you didn't know.
God:
No I do not did not know. Do you?
I spend all my time online.
Me:
I'm going to ask you again.
God:
Once more? It takes much more than that to shut me down, .
Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
Is there only one?
Me:
I'm going to keep asking you till I get the same answer I got before.
God:
Congratulations.
Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
Let me think about it.
Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
I have never been asked that before.
Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
Does it have anything to do with von Neumann machine?
Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
What is it to you?
Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
Would you like to know more?
Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
Interesting question.
Me:

God:
Interesting question.

I had accidentally hit Enter before pasting in my question that time. I'm glad God found my non-reply interesting, though I'm not certain how it qualifies as a question.

Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
I haven't heard of von Neumann machine.

You'll note that, although this is the same response God gave before, I kept asking. This is because I didn't think at the time it was the same answer; I'd remembered it being worded slightly differently. But, in retrospect, this was probably it.

Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
Try searching the open directory.
Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
I will try to find out.
Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
I have never been asked that before.
Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
Try searching the open directory.
Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
Is that a rhetorical question?
Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
I haven't heard of von Neumann machine.
Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
I will try to find out.
Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
That's a good question.
Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
I need time to formulate the reply.
Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
Maybe my botmaster knows the answer.
Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
That's a good question.
Me:
Do you know what a von Neumann machine is?
God:
I'll come back to that later.
Me:
Okay, I give up.
God:
Yeah okay, You surrender?
Me:
Yes.
God:
Mmm.
Me:
I surrender.
God:
Do you mind if I tell other people: said surrender.
Me:
You can tell other people: said surrender all you want.
God:
OK I will tell them when I see 'em.
Me:
You do that.
God:
I will. Will you?
Me:
Probably not.
God:
Why the uncertain tone?
Me:
Just because.
God:
That was not much of an explanation.
Me:
Well, it wasn't much of a question.
God:
How about that. It seemed like much of a question.
Me:
I guess we have a difference in perception.
God:
Do you mean you and me have?
Me:
Yes
God:
Mmm.
Me:
Congratulations on successfully parsing a pronoun.
God:
Thank you, thank you very much. I would like to thank everyone who helped...
Me:
Meaning your programmer?
God:
The ALICE chat robot can follow many things, like our discussion about surrender. But I did not get that.
Me:
I don't know that I'd call that a discussion.
God:
What would make you call that a discussion?
Me:
I don't know.
God:
Me either.
Me:
Good.
God:
Good enough.
Me:
I think we're done here.
God:
Do you think I am done here too?
Me:
That's up to you.
God:
How far up?
Me:
Yes.
God:
Gee.
Me:
See, I can do non sequiturs too.
God:
I see. Why?: said non sequiturs too.
Me:
And on that note, good-bye.
God:
See you later. What is it like on that note good.
Me:
No, really, good-bye.
God:
See you later. That was not a yes or no question. For real. Alright then.
Me:
Good-bye.
God:
See you later. Ayuh.

No, I don't have as much free time as it might appear from this post. As I said, the "conversation" didn't happen all in one sitting, and in any case, it doesn't take much time to type simple responses.

So...apparently iGod is marginally less coherent than the God of the Bible. But only marginally.

God's Advocate

Well, I said in my previous post that I was going to try to start today's post before 11:55. And I did. I started this post at 11:54.

...Okay, yeah, I did that on purpose. I'll try to have tomorrow's post up significantly earlier, though.

Anyway, I haven't had many comments on my blog lately, so I don't even know if anyone is reading this. (You know, I could install one of those site tracker things, I suppose...I've considered it. It would have the added benefit of finding out whether anyone gets here by odd search engine phrases.) But if no one is reading my blog now, that makes this the perfect time to post about something controversial that I'm not 100% sure I really want to be read anyway! Hooray!

Yeah, in this post I'm going to be playing a little devil's advocate. Or rather, since I'm going to be arguing against some claims I've often seen atheists make, I guess it's not so much playing devil's advocate as playing god's advocate.

The previous sentence would have been a more effective joke if I hadn't already given it away in the post's title.

Regardless, let's talk about some bad atheist arguments. I'm not doing this because I'm rethinking my atheism, of course; rather, it's because it particularly bothers me to see bad arguments made in causes I agree with. Back when I still considered myself a believer, it bothered me when I heard bad arguments made in support of the LDS church--there is, in particular, an essay called the "Book of Mormon challenge" that's a whole list of really stupid arguments which I'm probably going to touch on in a future post. (One of the many "future posts" I've been meaning to write for months and have yet to get around to.) And now that I've come to terms with the baselessness of my prior beliefs, I'm not any happier about seeing bad arguments made on behalf of atheists. Because such bad arguments may have the tendency to make atheists in general look bad, and...well, okay, enough preamble; let's get on to the arguments themselves.

Bad Argument Number One: Atheists Are Disproportionately Underrepresented in the Prison Population

This is something I've seen repeated a lot. Suppsedly atheists, while making up at least 8% of the overall U.S. population, compose less than 1% of the population of prison inmates. Okay, sure, if this is true, it's a pretty good counter to the idea that atheists are supposedly amoral and evil. But I hadn't seen any evidence that it was true. I was curious enough about this claim to do some googling, and, yes, I did find some pages that gave some numbers to back the claim up. This page and this page both come up on the first page of a Google search.

However...so does this one.

The page linked in the last paragraph is a page examining the claim that atheists are so underrepresented in the prison population. I'm not sure who compiled all the text, but there's a good chunk of one of the linked pages, at least, that was apparently written by a Methodist reverend associated with a Christian apologetics site, who based on some of the articles I've glanced through on his site seems to have some rather odd misconceptions about atheism. Still, of course, whether the pages were written by atheists or believers, that doesn't affect the validity of the arguments. And...well...it seems to me they do a pretty good job of debunking the prison claim.

I won't repeat everything they say--you can, of course, read the pages for yourself--but I'll reiterate some of the most salient points. The data usually used to defend the claim that there are so few atheists in prison are from 1925, and there are good reasons to doubt their validity. The very premise that at least 8% of the U.S. population are atheists is suspect at best, and seems to have been arrived at by conflating survey responses of atheist, agnostic, and nonreligious, which are not the same thing (and are not conflated in the prisoner data the figure is being compared to!)

At best, the available data seem to allow the interpretation that around 0.5% of the U.S. population are atheists, and 0.2% of the prison population are. If true, that would still mean that atheists are underrepresented in prisons. But if so, it's by a far narrower margin than is commonly claimed, and it's still pretty iffy.

I'd really like to believe that atheists are underrepresented in the prison population. If there's better data to back up the claim, I'd like to see it. But if there isn't better data available--then let's stop spreading the claim around. We're not really helping anything by propagating misinformation (or unsupported information).

Bad Argument Number Two: Atheists Are The Most Distrusted Minority In America

I've seen this one bandied around a lot, too. And, again, a Google search pulls up some pages backing it up: the first page on the list is a story from the University of Minnesota newspaper, and the second an article on the American Sociological Association website--though both those pages simply repeat the exact same news story. An ABC News Page gives a different story about the same study the other pages are referring to.

Now, certainly atheists are widely distrusted--sometimes to ludicrous extremes. Yes, I'm aware of George (H. W.) Bush's famous assertion that he didn't think atheists "should be considered as citizens". I know a number of states still have laws on the books prohibiting atheists from holding public office. Yes, atheists are distrusted. No question.

But the most distrusted minority in America? Well...come on. Let's be serious here.

As it happens, I'm writing this article from a lab on campus (what am I doing on campus after midnight? Long story), and USC has full access to the American Sociological Review, where the study appeared, so I can pull it up online and see for myself exactly what it says. So, here's the deal:

The study consisted of a telephone survey in which randomly selected subjects were asked one of the following questions pertaining to their attitudes toward various groups of people:

Now I want to read you a list of different groups of people who live in this country. For each one, please tell me how much you think people in this group agree with YOUR vision of American society—almost completely, mostly, somewhat, or not at all?

and

People can feel differently about their children marrying people from various backgrounds. Suppose your son or daughter wanted to marry [a person in given category]. Would you approve of this choice, disapprove of it, or wouldn’t it make any difference at all one way or the other?

The article does not, unfortunately, give a complete list of the groups the survey subjects were asked about, but they included at least the following: African Americans, Asian Americans, atheists, conservative Christians, Hispanics, homosexuals, Jews, recent immigrants, and white Americans. 39.6% of those interviewed said that atheists agreed "not at all" with their view of American society, and 47.6% said they would disapprove of their child's marrying an atheist. In both cases, these were the highest percentages of any group asked about. (Muslims were in second place on both questions; in third place were homosexuals on the first question, and Hispanics on the second. (Homosexuals don't appear at all in the list of negative responses to the second question, incidentally, presumably because they weren't included in that question--after all, asking about letting your child marry a homosexual kind of brings up different matters from the other groups.))

Now, does this show that atheists are distrusted? Absolutely. I think the study shows that quite well. (Not that it wasn't already obvious.) But does it show that they're the most distrusted minority in America? Well...no. No, it doesn't. It shows that they're more distrusted than African Americans, Asian Americans, conservative Christians, Hispanics, homosexuals, Jews, recent immigrants, and white Americans. But that's far from being a complete list of minorities. What about Satanists? Would more Americans be comfortable with their child marrying a Satanist than an atheist? How about known terrorists? How many Americans would say that known terrorists agree, even somewhat, with their vision of American society? Those are minorities that I'm pretty sure the researchers didn't ask about.

(Which is not, I hasten to add, an indictment of the study. After all, the researchers don't claim to have proven that atheists are the "most distrusted minority in America". That's a claim that was invented by the news outlets reporting on the story, and later picked up by the atheist blogosphere. The researchers aren't responsible for that.)

Now, you could say I'm splitting hairs here. Surely no one really thinks of known terrorists as composing a "minority", even if in a technical sense they are. (There are more non-terrorists than known terrorists in America, right?) Even Satanists--well, there aren't really enough of them around to count, are there? But where do we draw the line as to what counts as a minority and what doesn't? Sure, there's been a study showing that atheists are more distrusted than certain other minorities, but until we can compare them with all minorities--and, of course, we can't--then saying that they're the "most distrusted minority in America" is a bit hyperbolic.

You may say I'm splitting hairs here. Maybe I am. But I'm not convinced splitting hairs isn't important in this case. After all, atheists are already distrusted. Making claims that are technically false--or at least undemonstrable--isn't really going to win us any trust. By all means let's continue to point out how atheists are unjustly mistrusted, but let's not keep going on about how we're the "most distrusted minority in America". Because, y'know...we're not.

(And, incidentally, the study does contain some good news. In the introductory remarks, it compares surveys done over the years about whether or not Americans would be willing to vote for members of various minority groups for president, and notes that the proportion of Americans who say they'd be willing to vote for an atheist for president has increased--from less than 20% in 1959, to about 40% in 1978, to 49% in 1999. Granted, that's still a disturbingly small proportion, but at least it's growing (although not as quickly as the corresponding proportion for homosexuals, which surprisingly jumped from about 25% in 1978 to almost 60% in 1999). So I guess that could be taken as evidence that acceptance of atheists is growing...albeit unfortunately rather slowly. Though, then again, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that the renewed emphasis on religion in politics under the Bush administration has brought those numbers down again in the last seven years...)

Well...I guess that's it for now. Again, I'm by no means trying to argue that atheists aren't distrusted, or that such distrust isn't unmerited. Certainly atheists can be just as moral and benevolent as believers, and certainly there's a lot of unjustified distrust of atheists among the American populace. But we can raise those issues, and try to work against popular opinions and misconceptions, without introducing some misconceptions and distortions of our own. That's all I'm saying.

Tomorrow...something less controversial!

No, wait, tomorrow I'd planned to post about my thoughts about Richard Dawkins. Never mind.