Earlier, Dave Weigel wrote a great post about why he doesn’t cover Sarah Palin’s twitter feed or her facebook posts. He uses the opportunity to chastise the rest of the press to behaving as subservient to Palin when their relationship should be the opposite.

It seems now that Andrew Sullivan found the post and is using it to continue his crusade against Palin despite contradicting the spirit of the post by continually posting her nonsense tweets on his blog. He defends his actions by saying it’s his responsibility to “keep tabs on the lunacy.” That might be more compelling if he hadn’t posted less than a day ago one of her tweets verbatim and without comment.

I’m no fan of Palin, but Sullivan’s continued coverage of her is more tiring than anything else; maybe it’s because Sullivan has bit into this particular piece of meat so fervently, or maybe it’s because of the Trig pregnancy conspiracy theory he likes to push on occasion, but every time he starts to talk about Palin I zone out. Luckily, Weigel is still covering her, and doing so without calling her out as a sign of the apocalypse.

I thought I should clarify how ‘white’ I am as it relates to that BET Cypher I posted last night. I didn’t really know of Mos Def as a musician until earlier this year — I remember him performing on Chappelle’s show, but I never made the connection that he was an actual musical artist — having first seen him in the Italian Job and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. I hadn’t heard of this guy Black Thought, who I thought ‘won’ that Cypher despite all three guys being amazing, at all though I knew very vaguely of his band The Roots.

Still though, I feel a little cheap writing about how ‘white’ I am when just last night I wrote a critique of Andrew Sullivan for talking about how ‘black’ America is. I also didn’t really do this completely by accident. I think that talking about how we talk about race is sort of a big deal. When Sullivan spoke about the blackness of America, what he seemed to be writing about was the culture of the South. Most of his readers who wrote in spoke about being white and Southern. It’s apt that I woke this morning to Ta-Nehisi Coates doing what he does best:

There are many reasons why it’s wrong to presume that your particular, specific, individual narrative of blackness is The Only Narrative Of Blackness Ever In All History.

Blackness is a lot of things, and I think conflating it with ‘Southern’ is probably not a great idea. It’s not wrong, but it’s not all right.

A couple weeks ago, Adam Serwer wrote a great post trashing Pat Buchanan and his offensive talk about white American’s ‘losing their country.’ Cutting to the quick, Adam says:

Black Americans have shed blood in every American war since the Revolution. This country, even the very Capitol building in which today’s legislators now demand to see the birth certificate of the first black president, was built on the sweat and sinew of slaves. Before we were people in the eyes of the law, before we had the right to vote, before we had a black president, we were here, helping make this country as it is today. We are as American as it gets.

I have trouble not cheering that paragraph on as I read it, it reads so fucking true. And obviously true. Maybe it’s because I’m from Canada, a nation more forward about its mosaic-esque nature, but it seems so clear to me that what America is all about is not white Americans or black Americans or any colour or creed. They’re all a part of the big beautiful conglomeration.

But while I cheered on that post, the follow ups that came from Andrew Sullivan and his horde of purple prose packed readers gave me that sort of sighed chagrin you get when you see the point, and then you see the person trying to make it drive right on by.

Sullivan was so busy trying to describe how white England is and how black America is, he forgot that the real point was that America isn’t white. The Banjo is an African instrument, and Cajuns originate from the Canadian East coast. America is the people who are there and what they brought with them.

This is not me trying to downplay the Blackness of America, but all this talk about how Black America is was tiring me. The world is not that black and white, pardon the pun, which was the whole point of Serwer’s original post; not that America is black, but that it isn’t wholly white.

Maybe I’m quibbling over semantics — and some of this is about southern white people sharing many cultural commonalities with southern black people, which is more about cultural regionalism than about racial identity, though perhaps they’re overly conflated in the American South — but I think it’s an important distinction.

All the discussion over on The Daily Dish about religion and atheism has led to some premature ejaculations on my part. I’ve meant to write about the various forms of atheism and the ones to which I ascribe for a long time now¹ but I never got around to it until these discussions reinvigorated me on the subject.

In particular, the form of atheism I most often identify with, apatheism, is described quite well by one of Andrew’s readers:

Maybe there is a god. Maybe there are many gods. Maybe there’s no god at all. Maybe I could drive myself crazy second-guessing myself and every theologian and pastor and religious friend out there. Maybe in the end it doesn’t matter, and I’ve just got to lead the best life I can, as I see it, and if that’s not good enough in the end — if there be an end instead of a simple fading away — then as far as I’m concerned, any god that would condemn me for doing my best to be the best person I can isn’t a god I’d want to believe in, in the first place.

Dedicated readers out there might recall that I was once a very passionate christian. Well, I called myself christian but I didn’t believe in the holy trinity nor in the divinity of Jesus Christ, so really I was just a guy that strongly believed that God existed. I had debated with myself about the nature of God for so long and in such detail that I had come to the conclusion that God is so far beyond human comprehension that any attempt by us to understand his wishes or obey his will would be a terrible distortion.

Eventually, I argued myself down to seeing it as this apatheist does: I’m going to live my life the way I think is right and good. The god that deems my sincere efforts unacceptable while leaving his criteria ambiguous is not a god I want to worship.

At the time this moved me deeply and I can remember understanding the significance of this shift. I had gone from a mostly-Anglican Christian to an I-don’t-know-what², and I felt great relief at finally overcoming some of my deepest issues with my faith.

Naturally, not long after that I stopped believing in God. Not necessarily as a result of this religious shift, rather I suspect that this shift was merely a stepping stone my psyche deemed necessary as I weaned my mind off the belief in deities. Nonetheless, I had become a full-bore apatheist.

Apatheism can appear deceptively like a form of lazy religion³, but what I believed then and what I believe now are very different. What I believed then was that a god that will ultimately judge my life, but I accepted the impossibility of knowing its criteria and simply lived a life I thought was right.

But to the apatheist, God is not unknowable, God is irrelevant. God, even if he did exist, doesn’t matter.

If everyone but me believed in God, but they didn’t let that belief affect politics, or science, or education, I’d be content. But what I see instead is the vilification of atheism and the slow creep of church into state. And that’s when I’m not an apatheist anymore.

I’d love to not have to care about religion, but quite frankly that’s irresponsible given the growing atmosphere of religiosity in our culture.

---

1. With numerous drafts broaching the topic from slightly different angles sitting on this blog from two years ago [↩]
2. I later realized that it was strikingly similar to a view known as ignosticism, though I contend there are still vital, though subtle, differences mostly borrowed from apatheism [↩]
3. Or conversely, lazy religion can be seen as a form of apatheism [↩]

There’s been a really great ongoing debate happening over at The Daily Dish surrounding atheism. It started when one of Andrew’s temporary replacements likened atheists such as Daniel Dennett and Richard Dawkins to fundamentalists and religious extremists.

As it’s developed, I’ve read many intelligent arguments on both sides. But the truth is most of the religious side of the debate presumes a level of deference to religion. Atheists, it seems, are not allowed to compare religion to belief in Santa Claus or similar fanciful beliefs. At first it was attacked for being glib, but that does little to alter the fundamental similarities in the belief in Santa Claus and the belief in God.

Subsequently, the argument was made that people spend a great deal of time developing their religious stance, whether it’s through thorough readings of the philosophies of theologians across the ages or merely an internal conflict, and so the comparison is unfair. Admittedly, there are people who examine their beliefs thoroughly, break down all the preconditions of life that their parents instilled in them to arrive at a self-determined philosophy, one which includes God, but those people are a far and away minority. For many people, religion is a part of their life because they’ve never thought about it¹.

Similarly, following an atheist argument that religion can undermine the “development of logical thinking” in children, a religious reader responded with:

I have an 18 year-old and a 15 year-old which my wife and I have raised in the church. They are both at the stage where they are questioning and challenging everything. The idea that I could possibly “brainwash” them into believing anything is specious.

Which isn’t wrong so much as it is unsophistcated. The fact is that the reader almost certainly could “brainwash” their children if they wanted to. We always read of the children who escape from a cult they were born into, but we ignore the fact that many children remain in the cult, contented and certain that their way of life is the true path to salvation.

I use cults as an example, but parents with enough religious zeal can just as easily cause many problems for their children. Home schooling children that the Earth is the centre of the universe and that it’s only 6000 years old and evolution is a lie — all things that Christian parents do² — absolutely affect the child for years to come. No one is claiming that the damage is irreparable — after all, there are atheists out there — but to ignore it because it lacks 100% efficacy is exceedingly naive³.

The problem with having a religious debate is that when atheists argue with fundamentalists nothing is accomplished, but when they argue with reasonable, temperate theists like those reading Andrew Sullivan’s blog, we get nice nuanced arguments which describe God in a manner very different than the norm. The theists seems to forget that atheists are mostly arguing against the edge cases.

I’m staunchly atheist, and confident that there is no God. But when I attack religion, I don’t attack the muted and temperate version that intellectuals believe in, the kind where God is a passive observer, or where he sets the pieces up and has spent the past 12 billion or so years watching them all fall around him like a massive set of dominoes. I attack the religion that forces genital mutilation, stonings, oppression of women, ignorance of science, and all the stuff that the brainy version of religion has eschewed in its development.

Often, atheists (and theists) are accused of ignoring the moderates of the debate, instead focusing on the fringes of their debate, but one thing I’ve noticed as time goes on is that even the extreme atheists, so far as I know, do not argue for the abolition of religion. What they argue is that religion is irrational and that the world would be a better place without religion. The first half of that argument is absolutely true. Religion is the belief in something for which there is absolutely no evidence, an inherently irrational stance. The second half is much more contentious and an argument that I personally don’t accept. That said, the “atheist fringe” is much less extreme than the religious fundamentalists, so to act as though they are equal criticisms seems disingenuous to me.

The edge cases matter⁴. So don’t call upon the “civility” of atheists to sit down and shut up when it comes to the pernicious ills of religion.

---

1. I speak from experience; many members of my family have no actual philosophy with respect to their religion, they merely accept it as what they’ve always “believed.” [↩]
2. Obviously not all Christian parents, but these extremes do exist [↩]
3. I’m not advocating the abolition of religion here, nor would anyone suggest state-enforced atheism, but ignoring the problems of religion accomplishes nothing. [↩]
4. On both sides of the discussion [↩]

Patrick Appel, filling the void for Andrew Sullivan, questions the usefulness of the new cap-and-trade legislation that squeaked by Congress at the end of last week:

I am eager to spend money to slow global warming. Still, I question whether a crippled cap and trade bill will make it harder to pass decent legislation later on.

But quite frankly, something is better than nothing. Joseph Romm seems to agree with me — put more honestly, I agree with Romm — and offers this useful tidbit:

It is worth noting that the original Clean Air Act — first passed in 1963 — also didn’t do enough and was subsequently strengthened many times.

So let’s do whatever we can get away with, in terms of climate change. Maybe it’s not enough, but if the choice is between something or nothing, that’s a no-brainer.

As much as I’d like the Washington establishment to do an about face simply because a lot of young people were interested in politics last fall, it’s not going to happen that way. We’re going to have to fight for every inch. So let’s start with this. All avalanches start somewhere.

John Cole, someone I generally agree with, has been getting a little snippy with the blogosphere over its impassioned response to the stolen election and subsequent rallies for justice currently taking place in Iran.

My thoughts are with the folks in Iran risking it all fighting for democracy, but this can not be said enough- this is not about us, it is about them. I love the coverage of events, but please stop with this narcissistic nonsense.

Most of this is targeted at Andrew Sullivan, who has been working with a great level of dedication to get the news about Iran out while the mainstream media did little to cover the story. I agree with John that changing the colour scheme of a website does nothing to contribute to the Iranian people’s fight for a fair democracy, but that doesn’t mean it’s a meaningless gesture.

I’ve followed this story from its early stages, unable to look away, desperate for any new photo or bit of news out of Tehran. I feel the pain of the Iranian people, and I wish I could do something to solve their problems. But I can’t. Their problems are theirs. All I can do is watch and hope that they win the freedoms every man, woman, and child deserves. Quite frankly, writing about their bravery — these people who are fighting battles our forefathers fought for us, so that we could live in a world with the tacit understanding of legitimacy — is all we can do. To lift up our voices and echo the cries for freedom. We need to let them know that while this is their fight, they do not stand alone. The world is watching.

Andrew Sullivan offered a suggestion to the pro-gay marriage camp, inspired by New Hampshire’s recently signed legislation, that they explicitly allow clergy to refuse to perform a marriage which is against their religious convictions. He ended the post with this:

I propose that any initiative wording in a future California ballot specifically include a religious exemption. It shows we are serious about religious freedom and a church-state divide.

I have an idea that would show that people are serious about a church-state divide: don’t let clergy marry people at all.

Obviously, they can perform ceremonies which are respected and honoured within the confines of their faith. But if you’d prefer to be married in the eyes of the law, and not the Lord, have it done by government officials. Then go have your religious ceremony, should your preacher condone the type of personal relationship you’ve committed yourself to. To have a situation where religious leaders are explicitly involved in a government process seems to me a much greater disregard for the division of church and state.

Andrew Sullivan blogged about the recent discovery of new endogenous cannabinoids: put simply, our brains make our own weed.

It’s been years since the cannabinoid receptors, the receptors that react to THC and other similar drugs, in our brain were discovered and any scientist would be able to predict that our brains would create neurotransmitters that use these receptors. Maybe we hadn’t found any of the endogenous form yet, so this might be a new discovery but it’s certainly not surprising. If our brain has a receptor for a certain type of neurotransmitter, it’s almost a given that our brain produces neurotransmitters that those receptors will receive. Our brain doesn’t have random receptors in the hopes that the body it’s in will take those chemicals in. It only accepts what it expects to accept; the fact that there are other chemicals which can mimic, or block, those neurotransmitters is just a bonus.

Andrew Sullivan recently pondered the question “Is psychiatry a religion?” In that post, he quoted a retort to the accusation, and the key idea in it that he latched onto was that “the single common feature of all religious is a preoccupation with unseen sentient beings, of which psychiatry says nothing” which Sullivan drying countered with “Two words: Sigmund Freud.”

The only problem with that is that Freud’s stances are outrageously outdated and naive. It is no longer the predominant stance of psychiatrists, nor is it taught as anything more than a historical curiosity in psychiatry classes any longer. Granted, all of this is from my personal experience while working towards a cognitive neuropsychology minor in university (which I sadly abandoned for brevity’s sake), but nearly every aspect of Freud’s work was taught minimally and then a superseding work was introduced that explained all of the things Freud’s work did but better.

Say what you will about the subjectivity of psychiatry and psycho-analysis, but when it comes to Sigmund Freud, neither the man nor his work is sacrosanct.

Andrew Sullivan, a much more prolific blogger and — let’s be honest here — generally better writer, wrote today about the damaging effects of civil unions.

France created a civil unions law in 1999 for gays but failed to designate gender and now about a third of straight couples getting married in France opt for civil unions because they are easier to get out of. Don George points out the obvious:

…it is terribly humorous and ironic that the French created civil unions to protect the institution of marriage…and now civil unions are undermining marriage because people are opting for them instead of marriage. Talk about the law of unintended consequences. So possibly the lesson for our country is that the best way to protect the institution of marriage is not to deny people marriage by creating a separate but equal system, but to allow gays to marry.

Er: yes. If you read my first ever essay on the topic, in 1989, you will find it was exactly this possibility that led me to back full marriage equality over marriage-lite options such as domestic partnership and civil unions. It was a way to integrate gay people and protect marriage.

What I don’t understand about the conservative viewpoint on marriage is their view that it is an inherent good. That somehow marriage is necessary for society to flourish and freedom to ring through the streets of the world.

Ta-Nehisi Coates, an Atlantic blogger generally found on the other side of the political spectrum, has a different view of marriage:

As much as I can recall, there were basically three reasons for us to get married. 1.) I might leave. Marriage would force me to do the right thing. 2.) To declare our commitment to each other before a community of people whom we loved. 3.) The business reasons–the legalities of your estate and guardianship. I found–and still find–the first two reasons were utterly unconvincing. The third held some sway, but with the help of a lawyer we’ve managed to take care of that. The first turned marriage into a kind of insurance policy, and I just believed that if you felt you needed insurance for the person you were having kids by to stick out, you needed to reconsider the whole proposition. The commitment and community reason held some appeal. But I believed, and still believe, that long-term romantic partnerships are between the two people entering into it.

I hated the idea of public declarations, because the life blood of the relationship–what bills to pay, how to raise your child, your love life–all of that happened when no one else was around. Kenyatta knows more about me than any human being walking the earth–and this is as it should be. No one knows more about my strengths and my weaknesses, my failings and my successes. I trust her to the end. But that trust was worked for–it was not declared or conjured by the presence of other people.

I’ve had similar views on marriage for a while now, but so rarely has the argument not against marriage, but against the necessity of marriage been so succinctly put. Some people might have a different idea of what a long-term relationship requires. I know that my ex did. But to imply that marriage is an inherent good is misleading.

I have to amend my previous assessment about John Kerry’s speech. I had missed a lot of the build up beginning of his speech, and thanks to the youtube video of the speech over on Andrew Sullivan’s site I saw the whole thing. And there’s some really good stuff in there. He still sounds like a bit of a tool, but the words are there, and a lot of Biden’s more convincing rhetoric echoes this speech, though Biden’s delivery was better. But I was overly flippant about John Kerry’s speech which, when heard in its entirety, is really good and stands up to the others of the night.