Europe is trapped by complacency and an all too human desire for oblivious contentment, says a leading French philosopher. This helps ensure the success of the nihilistic terror and extremist ideology exemplified by al-Qaida and Saddam Hussein. Nobody wants war – but genocide is worse than war.

Liss Gehlen/Jens Heisterkamp: Why do you return to the work of Dostoevsky to explain the terrorism of the 20th and 21st centuries?

André Glucksmann: In Dostoïevski à Manhattan I pose a philosophical question: what is the ‘idea’, the characteristic form of modern terrorism? And my answer is: nihilism.

Socrates asked: what do a beautiful woman, a beautiful vase and a beautiful bed have in common? His answer: the idea of beauty. My question is: what do extremist ideologies like the communism or Nazism of yesteryear and the Islamism of today have in common? After all, they support ostensibly very different ideals – the superior race, mankind united in socialism, the community of Muslim believers (the Umma). Tomorrow, it could be altogether different ideals: some theological, some scientific, others racist. But the common characteristic is nihilism.

The root element is the attitude that anything goes, particularly when with regard to ordinary people: I can do whatever I want, without scruples. Goehring put it like this: my consciousness is Adolf Hitler. Bolsheviks said: man is made of iron. And the Islamists whom I visited in Algeria said that you have the right to kill little Muslim children, in order to save them.

Liss Gehlen/Jens Heisterkamp: And this took you back to Dostoevsky?

André Glucksmann: It is the highest achievement of Russian literature in particular that it has revealed this kernel of human experience in which ‘everything is allowed’. In Dostoevsky’s The Possessed there are atheists and believers (a figure like Shatov for example) who have very different outlooks on the future. But they share one thing in common: the right to kill, to burn, to overturn, in order to achieve tabula rasa.

Liss Gehlen/Jens Heisterkamp: When Dostoevsky talks about the devils, or the possessed, he still seems to be guided by the idea that evil is something which captures man from outside. The main protagonist Stavrogin, for example, even talks about the devil’s appearances.

André Glucksmann: Actually, the beautiful thing about Stavrogin is that you don’t really know him. You don’t know if he believes in God or not. In the end, what surprised me was to find that he is a little like bin Laden; he might be very cynical, or fanatical, nobody really knows.

The inner nature of this nihilistic terrorism is that everything is permissible, whether because God exists and I am his representative, or because God does not exist and I take his place. That is what I find so impressive about Dostoevsky: he is a secret, a riddle.

Liss Gehlen/Jens Heisterkamp: The group of conspirators at the centre of The Possessed seems, from the outside, to have both a coherent programme and a great deal of charisma. From the inside, on the other hand, all that remains is a fascination with destruction. And this fascination develops its own dynamic, pulling everyone under its spell. Destruction takes over as the group’s raison d’etre, while some of those involved still believe it is about the content and messages it offers.

André Glucksmann: Yes, there are several different layers of nihilists. There are the ‘outer’ nihilists who follow and believe, and then there are the nihilists at the centre of the action, the activists who pursue the logic of destruction. Dostoevsky has shown this very well indeed, as has Turgenev, in the persona of Bazarov. Or take Fritz Lang’s Dr Mabuse figure. These destructive personalities have coherence precisely because they are not idealists. Their coherence derives from the logic of destruction. In a linguistic sense it is performative, and therefore self-endorsing.

Liss Gehlen/Jens Heisterkamp: Surely Dostoevsky contradicts nihilism to the extent that he is still arguing for a religious solution, a renewal of belief – a point that would be a bit difficult to make today?

André Glucksmann: This is very arguable indeed, and would require a much longer examination of Dostoevsky’s work. I think you are right from the ideological point of view. Dostoevsky was conservative, he believed in Greater Russia, and he was also an anti-Semite. But in his literary work as opposed to his essays, he is much more subtle and complicated. Dostoevsky completely submerged himself in his writing. His literary work is more difficult, but less dogmatic.

Religion as such is surely not the ‘solution’ in this part of his oeuvre. Take the Grand Inquisitor who is a religious man but a catastrophe at the same time. And someone very much influenced by Dostoevsky, the great theologian Vladimir Soloviev, concludes in his Dialogue of 1900 that there is a strong connection between Orthodoxy, eastern theosophy and Catholicism, one that has been very irritating for all sides.

‘Long live death!’: religious shell, nihilist kernel

Liss Gehlen/Jens Heisterkamp: Let’s go back to nihilism as you have characterised it. If you include Islamic terrorism in nihilism as you have done in Dostoevsky in Manhattan then you must accept the objection that Islamism is peculiar in presenting itself in the cloth of religion, a spiritual mission.

André Glucksmann: Yes, but you can also find a missionary zeal driving those Russian nihilists who wanted Greater Russia, or at another time the Great Revolution. There are many missions; what is much more difficult to pin down is the actual practice, the approach. For it is in their approach as activists that religious nihilism, dialectical materialist nihilism or Nazi nihilism are the same.

Religion is only the cloth, the excuse and the justification. What is essential is the practice. For there is a direct connection between the Islamic suicide bomber and the general serving under Franco who shouted out in front of the University of Salamanca: “Long live death!” This is the connection that I was trying to grasp.

Liss Gehlen/Jens Heisterkamp: “Long live death!”?

André Glucksmann: At the opening of the University of Salamanca, one General Millán Astray shouted Viva la Morte. Miguel de Unamuno, who was in charge of the occasion, was a conservative, the protégé of Franco’s wife, a philosopher of the right. He reproved the general for this impermissible, unacceptable statement, and added: “You, my general who has lost an eye in the war, are a handicapped man not because you have lost an eye but because you have shouted ‘Long live death’’’.

It is precisely this slogan which you hear from Islamic suicide bombers.

Liss Gehlen/Jens Heisterkamp: Perhaps then, you think that during the course of the 20th and now the beginning of the 21st century, this destructive nihilism has manifested itself in different guises, but remains something like an anthropological constant throughout. Is that your belief – that man carries this trait in his very nature; that he is bound to recurrently submit to it?

André Glucksmann: I would put it the opposite way round. Man is human: therefore, he can be civilised, even if he can’t read or write, because he can master this hubris. Wherever you go, this belligerent hubris is considered lethal. In the huts of the Amazon, young men are taught to conquer this capacity for excessive violence. You can fight together, but you cannot fight in any way that comes to hand, and you don’t set out to fight just anyone. The same idea occurs in the teachings of the Greeks, the paidera. All European education is based on the same principle.

Indeed, all civilisations have two essential taboos in common: the taboo on ‘total sexuality’, the incest taboo, different in individual cases, but ubiquitous, and the taboo on violence. You are not allowed to succumb to ‘absolute violence’. You have to master that hubris in one way or another. In every civilisation you can find the mastering of these two absolute, destructive impulses. And the nature of modernity means that these fundamental taboos are vanishing.

The sleep of reason

Liss Gehlen/Jens Heisterkamp: Let’s go back to your opening statement on the essential values of Europe that have always been established in resistance to evil. The current threat from militant Islamism is not coming from Europe, and Europeans seem to have a problem in perceiving this threat as a threat to their own interests. Is that why it seems so difficult to summon up the necessary resistance?

André Glucksmann: It is not only Islamism: it is nihilism, in its practical manifestation of laying waste to the civilian population. The same approach was to be found in the case of the Russian army when it flattened Grozny, a city of 400,000, and the first capital to be razed to the ground since Hitler’s destruction of Warsaw in 1944. This destructive impulse is not in the nature of Islam; this impulse is integral to the nature of civilisation and it can destroy any civilisation.

Liss Gehlen/Jens Heisterkamp: But these events are not perceived as being played out in central Europe, but in far away and strange locations.

André Glucksmann: It has happened in central Europe too – with Milosevic and his ethnic cleansing, which is also a nihilist activity.

Liss Gehlen/Jens Heisterkamp: Nevertheless, for a long time now, Germany and France have shied away from taking on any responsibility in such situations. They have delayed it as long as possible. And even now, it seems that Europe only wants to safeguard the relative stability that we have achieved in the last fifty years. Everything which falls outside these boundaries, like Chechnya or the Middle East, really shouldn’t bother us.

André Glucksmann: Yes, exactly: but this is wrong. This is exactly the complacency, the crime of complacency, which once made Hitler possible. This complacency has cost us about 50 million lives. It also worked well for Stalin. ‘Better red than dead!’ Pacifism is a kind of complacency. And this complacency continues with Milosevic, with terrorism, with Saddam Hussein; people just want to sleep.

This is nowhere more beautifully invoked than in Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard, where the protagonists all live together on an old estate, and nobody cares at all about what might happen, even when they already hear the trees falling. (I had just read the play when they showed the twin towers in Manhattan collapsing on television). The equivalent today is the silence that greeted the odd intellectual who drew attention to Afghanistan, Chechnya, or Kosovo. Nobody wanted to listen; people turn away as from the bearers of ill tidings.

But in the end, the reality principle will catch up with us. We believe that we can live in a world where there are only little wars in the peripheries, the suburbs, ‘low-intensity conflicts’, as the political strategists like to call them. When Ahmed Shah Massoud, Afghan leader of the Northern Alliance and enemy of the Taliban, came to Paris four months before his assassination on 9 September 2001, only a small circle of perhaps five or six intellectuals met him. None of our ministers could find the time; only Nicole Fontaine, the president of the European Parliament, came.

When the twin towers fell the day after Massoud’s murder, I told myself, “Maybe now men will learn that what happens to women in distant Afghanistan should also be of interest to the people in New York. If Massoud and his troops had gone into Kabul earlier, the twin towers might not have been destroyed”.

But I misjudged mankind’s need to sleep. And now we are saying that this only happens to the Americans, not to Europe. But the first time it nearly happened was in Europe. In 1994, a plane was hijacked in North Africa and landed in Marseille. The hijackers had wanted to crash the plane above Paris. But these GIA hijackers (Groupe Islamiste Algérien), who were also in some kind of contact with bin Laden, did not know how to fly a plane. That is how the pilots managed to bring the plane to Marseille. For their part, the hijackers clearly learnt from this that they have to be able to fly planes themselves. They have learnt their lesson. But we, we have learnt nothing at all.

The reality principle

Liss Gehlen/Jens Heisterkamp: But there is a lot of resistance out there to combining anticipation with the use of force, even where it is necessary.

André Glucksmann: Yes, of course. This is simple enough to understand. If someone is ill then you are afraid of this illness: you feel sorry for the sick person but you tell yourself at the same time that this could only happen to him, not to yourself.

Liss Gehlen/Jens Heisterkamp: What was your response to the French government’s thinking on the Gulf conflict and their strict ‘no’ to a forceful removal of Saddam Hussein?

André Glucksmann: I am in a minority on this, and not for the first time. When I spoke up in leftist circles about Solzhenitsyn I was regarded as some kind of devil. When I supported the boat people, it was scandalous. And when it came to Milosevic in 1991, just four of us in France said we have to finish with Milosevic; and if this is possible by peaceful means, good, if not, then by force. But they waited for another eight years before taking action and that cost 200,000 lives. In the beginning you are in the minority, but in the end there is the reality principle.

I have discussed these problems a lot with Joschka Fischer whom I have known since 1968. We became friends because when I supported Solzhenitsyn, he and Daniel Cohn-Bendit agreed with that position, and criticised Russia. Even though they didn’t endorse my criticism of Marxism, at least they understood it.

In these pacifist times, we have had long debates in Die Zeit. Joschka Fischer did not agree with me for a long time. In the end he conceded that after Srebrenica there is something worse than war, and that is Auschwitz. What I cannot now understand is how he has turned into a pacifist once again in the face of Saddam Hussein – who is much worse, bloodier and more dangerous than Milosevic, and who has gassed people, partly with German gas.

Liss Gehlen/Jens Heisterkamp: Maybe Germany and France are so opposed to war because of the war-torn history they have shared. Can’t you accept that this is also part of the common inheritance of European humanism? The loathing of war is understandable after all, isn’t it?

André Glucksmann: Of course everything can be understood. Nobody wants war, me included. The question is, is there something worse than war?

I have been answering ‘yes’ for years. One thing that is worse than war is genocide – that is, the extinction of a whole people. Many people said this before Auschwitz. In Greek tragedy, it is revealed in the destruction of Troy. This is indeed the horizon of western history.

That is why I don’t believe that the refusal to take part in a war against Saddam should be seen as an expression of humanism, but of a blindness that exists not only in Europe, but in all civilisations. We all want to live peacefully, oblivious and happy. That wish already existed in ancient Athens, and there is nothing wrong with it as such, except that it is not very realistic.

Liss Gehlen/Jens Heisterkamp: Do you think France will stick to its opposition against the US?

André Glucksmann: Longer than in Germany. Here in our country, the rivalry with America is more prominent. But at the moment, the people in the street are only asking themselves, how can we stand up against Bush? Saddam Hussein doesn’t come into the equation, and that is where my whole objection lies. Because the issue here is actually Saddam.

Bush is a challenge for American democracy; Aznar, the challenge for Spanish democracy. Why are there fewer protestors in France than in Spain, England or Italy? Because in Italy they fight Berlusconi, in Britain they fight Blair – and in France they fight nobody.

But the overriding question remains: what about Saddam Hussein? If I may be a little moralistic here: I could not look at myself in the mirror if Saddam Hussein were still in power because I have been to a demonstration against Bush, and as a result, the people in Iraq had to live in this totalitarian regime for another twenty years.

This interview by Liss Gehlen and Jens Heisterkamp originally appeared on Info 3 (http://www.info3.de/English/engl.html). It was translated by Michael Rebehn.

Lead me from dreaming to waking. Lead me from opacity to clarity. Lead me from the complicated to the simple. Lead me from the obscure to the obvious. Lead me from intention to attention. Lead me from what I'm told I am to what I see I am. Lead me from confrontation to wide openness. Lead me to the place I never left, Where there is peace, and peace - The Upanishads
*note* lovely essay from "The Ancient Zen Master as Clown-Figure and Comic Midwife
By M. Conrad Hyers
Philosophy East & West
Vol. 20 (1970.10)
pp. 3-18
Copyright 1970 by University of Hawaii Press
Hawaii, USA"
This Conrad Hyers is interesting in explaining..read this essay..kisses from the mahayogi to him,and to you also,grasshoppers from heaven..
..........

lyrics to Then He Kissed Me - The Crystals-
Well, he walked up to me and he asked me if I wanted to dance.
He looked kinda nice and so I said I might take a chance.
When he danced he held me tight
and when he walked me home that night
all the stars were shining bright
and then he kissed me.
Each time I saw him I couldn't wait to see him again.
I wanted to let him know that he was more than a friend.
I didn't know just what to do
so I whispered "I love you"
and he said that he loved me too
and then he kissed me.
He kissed me in a way that I've never been kissed before,
he kissed me in a way that I wanna be kissed forever more.
I knew that he was mine so I gave him all the love that I had
and one day he took me home to meet his mom and his dad.
Then he asked me to be his bride
and always be right by his side.
I felt so happy I almost cried
and then he kissed me.
Then he asked me to be his bride
and always be right by his side.
I felt so happy I almost cried
and then he kissed me.
And then he kissed me.
And then he kissed me.
...........
Among the 1700 kooans which are said to be suitable for encouraging the experience of satori, and also for providing a test of its genuineness, is the following question attributed to Kyoogen (Hsiang Yen, ninth century) and provided with commentary by Mumon Ekai (Wu Men Hui K'ai, 1183-1260):

(Zen) is like a man up a tree who hangs on a branch by his teeth with his hands and feet in the air. A man at the foot of the tree asks him, "What is the point of Bodhidharma's coming from the West?" If he does not answer he would seem to evade the question. If he answers he would fall to his death. In such a predicament what response should be given?

[Mumon's commentary and verse] : It is useless to be gifted with a flowing stream of eloquence as to discourse on the teaching in the great Tripi.taka. Whoever answers this question (correctly) can give life to the dead and take life from the living. Whoever cannot must wait for the coming of Maitreya [the future Buddha] and ask (him).

Kyoogen is really outrageous.
The poison (he brewed) spreads everywhere.
It closes the mouths of Zen monks
And makes their eyes goggle. [1]

In the dimension of humor visible in such enigmatic kooans and commentaries as this is to be found a much-neglected side of Zen, as well as of the entire Buddhist tradition -- indeed, ultimately, of religion as such. [2] Because of a long-standing prejudice against associating the comic too closely with the sacred, a prejudice which has been supported by both religious and academic taboos, the function and place of humor in religion has been almost completely ignored by phenomenologists and historians of religion. This "conspiracy of silence" is as much in evidence with respect to Buddhism as to every other tradition. It is apparent upon closer examination, nonetheless, that in Buddhism, and in Zen Buddhism in particular, as in any religious tradition, a place has been granted to the comic spirit and perspective -- a time to laugh and to dance, as well as a time to weep and to mourn (Eccles. 3:4). One very illuminating and seldom explored method, therefore, of approaching a religious tradition, and of disclosing even its innermost features, is to examine what the comic means, and in what ways it has been employed, or at least permitted, in that particular context. The experiences and expressions which we associate with the terms

1. Zenshuu mumonkan (A.D. 1229), trans. Sohaku Ogata, Zen for the West (London: Rider & Co., 1959), pp. 97-98.

2. There are numerous collections of the tales, kooans, and mondoos of the early Ch'an and Zen masters relevant to any extensive study of the role of the comic in Zen. Descriptive references concerning many of these may be found conveniently in the bibliographical appendix to Isshuu Miura and Ruth Fuller Sasaki, Zen Dust: The History of the Koan and Koan Study in Rinsai (Lin-Chi) Zen (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1966). See especially the notations on Ch'an-tsung Wu-men-kuan (Zenshuu mumonkan), Cheng-fa-yen-tsang (Shooboogenzoo), and Ku-tsun-su (Kosonshuku).

laughter, humor, and comedy often play a far greater and more significant role in relation to religious experience and expression than scholarly inquiry has been ready to admit or careful to recognize. Human existence, in fact, as it is religiously lived and understood, is only given adequate definition in terms of a dialectical interplay between seriousness and laughter, between "holiness" and humor; and apart from an appreciation for both sides of this dialectic, the sacred and the comic, no religion is fully comprehended or interpreted. [3]

It must be acknowledged at the outset that the inclination of a religious tradition, especially insofar as it moves toward an orthodoxy, is often to squelch the comic spirit and perspective, or at least to keep it at a relatively safe and innocuous distance. It is the tendency of the sacred to push away the comic, as it is of the comic to withdraw from the sacred. Consequently specific instances of overt and legitimated comic moments or devices are usually much more difficult to obtain and document than their sacred counterparts. Zen, however, particularly in its earlier and less structured forms, is a happy exception to this rule; for more than any other religious tradition the documents of its classical period are replete with comic data. Certainly instances of the use of humor, and of various types of comic form, may be found elsewhere within the Buddhist cosmos: in the Dhammapada and its commentaries, or the Jaataka tales; in folk dramas and festivals; in popular stories, religious proverbs, and literary pieces; in certain forms of Chinese and Japanese Buddhist art; in the comic interludes (kyoogen, literally "mad words") placed between acts of the Noo plays of Japan; and in both the poetry of haiku and the epigrammatic verse of senryu. As in all cultures and religions, some play is given to the comic, and some time devoted to laughter. [4] But it is in the Zen tradition in particular that the relationship between the spirit and perspective of Buddhism and that of the comic is brought into full flower. R. H. Blyth, with his penchant for dashing comment and characterization, has defined the essence of Zen as

3. The terms comedy and humor will be used correlatively, and in the broadest sense, to refer to the same phenomenon. If a distinction is made between the terms it is that humor represents those attitudes and moods -- identified by such words as caprice, frivolity, gaiety, jest, and facetiousness -- that are expressed in or elicited by the various types of comic structure: clowning, joking, storytelling, farce, burlesque, buffoonery, etc. In the comic spirit, humor is the spirit, comedy the form.

4. According to the Buddhist scholastics there are six classes of laughter: (a) sita, a faint smile manifest in facial expression only; (b) hasita, a smile which slightly reveals the teeth; (c) vihasita, a smile accompanied by a modicum of laughter; (d) upahasita, pronounced laughter associated with a movement of head, shoulders, and arms; (e) apahasita, laughter that brings tears; and (f) atihasita, uproarious laughter accompanied by doubling over, hysterics, etc. It is understood that only the first two classes are acceptable in polite society, with the last two in particular being characteristic of the uncultured lower classes. It is interesting that, in this schematization, the Buddha is supposed to have only indulged in sita, the most serene, subtle, and refined form of laughter. Cf. Shwe Zan Aung, The Compendium of Philosophy, a translation of the Abhidhammattha-Sangaha, rev. and ed. by Mrs. Rhys Davids (London: Luzac & Co., Ltd., 1910), pp. 22-25.

humor. [5] Whether or not one might be satisfied to state the matter so bluntly, such an equation of Zen and humor nevertheless points to the possibility of interpreting Zen as that strand within Buddhism in which humor comes to be most fully developed and self-consciously employed as an integral part of both a pedagogical method and an enlightened outlook -- that is, as both one of the stratagems for precipitating enlightenment and one of the consequences of enlightenment.


THREE LEVELS OF THE COMIC IN ZEN

In Zen, as in any religious context, there are three distinguishable levels on which the comic moves in relation to the sacred, [6] three moments or moods which in mythological terms may be seen as corresponding to the laughter of Paradise, Paradise-lost and Paradise-regained. This is not intended to suggest any metaphysical commitment on the part of Zen teaching to such a mythological schema -- for example, an interpretation of maayaa and sa^msaara as a "fall" from some primordial totality that is recollected in satori and recovered in the achievement of nirvaa.na. [7] In analyzing the comic elements in Zen it will be sufficient to understand the stages of the model as a movement from pre-rationality to rationality to "supra"-rationality -- pre-rationality representing the innocence and immediacy of infancy prior to the emergence of rationality with its tendency to split up the world into knower and known, subject and object, mind and body, good and evil, etc.; and "supra"-rationality the experience of transcending the dichotomies and estrangements of rationality in a recovery on a higher plane of that freedom and spontaneity and naturalness which is the special virtue of the child. The underlying thesis of this essay is that the place and function of humor in Zen may be interpreted as corresponding to these three levels, and at the same time Zen itself may be interpreted in terms of the place and function it gives to humor vis-a-vis any of these levels. What is of particular interest in Zen, and therefore what will command the greater part of attention, is the way in which it approaches the problem of moving from the second to the third levels of experience, that is, the problem of satori, and the way in which humor in Zen is both the occasion for and the result of satori.

It will be necessary, first, to characterize briefly the three dimensions of the

5. Oriental Humour (Tokyo: Hokuseido Press, 1959), p. 87.

6. The term sacred is being used primarily in the narrower, specifically religious sense as the sphere which has its focus in ultimate concerns and the ultimate questions of meaning, value, power, and reality, though it is also applicable in the larger and derivative sense to any sphere of concern and significance which is set apart and surrounded with an atmosphere of seriousness and importance.

7. Cf. Mircea Eliade's interpretation of both Hindu and Buddhist mysticism, Myths, Dreams and Mysteries (London: Harvill Press, 1960), pp. 48 ff.; Yoga: Immortality and Freedom (New York: Harper & Row, 1963), pp. 184-185.

relationship of the comic to the sacred that will be presupposed in the ensuing analysis. At the simplest level humor is a form of playing for the sake of playing; the clown cavorts, the comedian quips, and the spectator laughs out of sheer delight in the playfulness of the game of comedy itself. As such, humor is a movement back into the playful immediacy and spontaneity of childhood, the recovery of the freedom and naturalness of innocent glee. It is the momentary recapture of that world which is prior to the distinction between self and other, subject and object, sacred and profane, prior to the "knowledge of good and evil" and the emergence of shame and guilt; in short, the world that is symbolized by the mythical picture of a primeval Paradise; the "Urzeit" that in Zen comes to be projected onto a higher plane as the "Endzeit" of religious experience.

Humor is not all innocence and play, however. At a more sophisticated and self-conscious level it stands more immediately within the sphere of duality, and in sensitivity to conflict and anxiety, tension and alienation. Here it is not a humor which leaves behind the world of duplicity and rationality in a holiday of innocent abandon, but is a humor which moves within the terms and delineations of the objectified world in comic response to them. It is, consequently, the comic mood as it corresponds to the mythical state of Paradise-lost -- the state of self-assertion, of desiring and grasping, of separation and estrangement, of rational and moral discrimination. Instead of a recapitulation of the playful immediacy and spontaneity of the child, this level of humor is more self-conscious, more reflective, more serious, more mature. In fact, it shares in the very duplicity which elicits it and to which it is an inverted response, on the one hand becoming an act of withdrawal from that which is ordinarily taken as serious and sacred (comic distance and detachment), and on the other hand becoming an act of aggression against that which is ordinarily taken as serious and sacred (comic assertion and rebellion). These two dimensions may be referred to, respectively, as the prophetic or iconoclastic and the promethean or heroic responses. In the freedom of this half-playful, half-serious profaning of the ordinary world of perception, and of its sacred, tragic, and demonic forms, lies, however, the revelatory and redemptive potentiality of humor. And it is this revelatory and redemptive potentiality that is appropriated in Zen as both a pedagogical method and a psychological mechanism for attaining enlightenment and liberation.

Once such an enlightenment and liberation takes place it then becomes possible to speak of a third level of humor in Zen, a comic spirit and perspective which, though it may include the former levels, is not identical with them but decisively transcends them. Here humor becomes the freedom to play and to laugh which is contained within the freedom of enlightenment. Each level of humor implies and realizes a certain type of freedom. Humor on this plane therefore, is distinguishable from a nostalgic humor that leaps backward into

the freedom of simple innocence and immediacy prior to rationality, or from an ambivalent humor that responds to the dichotomies and tensions of rationality in iconoclastic/heroic freedom. It is a humor that moves beyond rationality, as it were, into the freedom of a higher innocence and immediacy. The playfulness of childish spontaneity and naturalness has been recaptured on a higher level, a level which corresponds mythically to Paradise-regained. One has now become free, in the profoundest sense, to laugh.


THE ZEN MASTER AS CLOWN FIGURE

One of the first impressions that one receives in reading tales of the often unorthodox lives and ways of certain Zen masters is the peculiar correspondence between these figures and that of the clown. Regardless of the problem of authenticity, and the separation of legend from fact, this image is too common and consistent to be dismissed as simply a popular embellishment alien to the character and approach of the Zen master. Behind all the fable and fiction there is the persistent form of a personality and role to which the designation "clown" is not inappropriate. This is not to suggest a clown-figure in the sense of the playful buffoon, or of clowning for the sake of clowning -- though this may be involved -- but rather in the sense of the clown who by his queer antics and strange attire, or by his "divine madness," gives expression to the special freedom that he has attained, and who in that freedom reveals some truth through the outlandishness of his performance, or who in some bizarre way becomes the agent of redemption in a particular situation.

One of the earliest representatives of the Ch'an tradition, for example, Fu Daishi (Fu Ta Shih, 497-569), a layman, is said to have been invited by the emperor Liang Wu Ti to expound the Diamond Suutra. As soon as he had ascended the seat for exposition, the emperor listening intently, Fu Daishi rapped the table once with a stick and descended from his seat. He thereupon asked the startled emperor, "Does Your Majesty understand?" "I do not," the incredulous emperor replied. Fu Daishi said simply, "The Bodhisattva has finished expounding the sutra." [8] On a later visit it is said that he presented himself at the palace before the emperor wearing a hat, a monk's robe, and a pair of shoes, it being accepted practice that a monk wears no hat, a Taoist no shoes, and a layman no monk's robe. [9] It is apparent from the host of such anecdotes that have been preserved, and used in subsequent Zen pedagogy, that not only are the early masters depicted as commonly employing various comic techniques in their dealings with monks, laymen, and even local and

8. Lu K'uan Yu, Ch'an and Zen Teaching, 3 vols. (London: Rider & Co., 1960-62), I, 143.

9. Ibid., p. 144. Later, of course, as the consequence of the continuing coexistence of Taoism, Buddhism, and Confucianism, it comes to be said that "every Chinese wears a Confucian cap, a Taoist robe and Buddhist sandals."

imperial dignitaries, but as themselves living in the spirit and style of comic freedom. Notorious for their peculiarities and eccentricities, odd in their behavior and unorthodox in their methods, the Zen masters often suggest something of the trickster, prankster, jester, and clown all rolled into one.

This is not to imply that all Zen masters are clown figures and comic midwives, or that all who achieve enlightenment within the tradition of Zen teaching do so in the context of comic techniques. Rather attention is being called to a comic spirit and style which achieves its fullest acceptance and development, among Buddhist sects, within Zen, and to a remarkable procession of individualists -- one might even say "characters" -- who often appear to be as much at home in the comic as the sacred. In perusing their biographies, as well as their kooans and mondoos, one has the distinct impression of being witness to a Buddhist circus. There is Seppoo (Hsueh Feng, 822-908) who, like the clown that plays at juggling, used to toy with three wooden balls, and who, when a monk would come to him to learn of Zen and the Zen way, would simply begin rolling the balls about. [10] There is Sekitoo (Shih T'ou, 700-790) who, when anyone would ask him to interpret some aspect of Buddhism, would likely as not reply, "Shut your mouth! No barking like a dog, please!" [11] There is Tenryuu (T'ien Lung, d. ninth century) who when Gutei, earnestly seeking the true path of the Buddha, solicited his direction, without comment simply lifted up one of his fingers. [12] Or there is Ummon (Yun Men, 862/4-949), who would frequently respond with a meaningless exclamation, "Kan!" and Rinzai (Lin Chi, d. 866), who would shout the equally nonsensical reply, "Katsu!" [13] The motley parade of individuals with their strange antics seems to file almost endlessly through the voluminous accounts of the early Ch'an and Zen masters. Though the purpose is quite serious and the setting acutely authoritarian, nevertheless the panorama has a distinct comic quality intrinsic to it. Through riddles and insults, through laughter and scowling, through ejaculation and silence, through slapping and kicking and striking, the point is made in, to say the least, a most eccentric manner. It is almost as if one were watching the capers of a troupe of clowns in a carnival, or an ancient Oriental version of the slapstick characters in a Marx brothers' film. But as in all profound comedy one soon discovers that the object of laughter is really oneself in the larger predicament and folly of man.

The familiar self-portrait of Hakuin (1686-1769) is illustrative of the intentional projection on the part of a Zen master of the image of the clown. Hakuin does not sketch himself in the idealized form of an enlightened one, or even in the realistic image of an austere zenji, but as a bald, fat, cross-eyed and hunch-backed old man. The poem Hakuin inscribed above the portrait comments:
In the realm of the thousand buddhas
He is hated by the thousand buddhas;
Among the crowd of demons
He is detested by the crowd of demons.
He crushes the silent-illumination heretics of today,
And massacres the heterodox blind monks of this generation.
This filthy blind old shavepate
Adds more foulness [ugliness] still to foulness. [14]

A similar portrait by a disciple, bearing the same poem, depicts Hakuin as looking almost sheepishly, with pursed lips, out of the corner of his eyes -- through all of which, however, one can detect the sagacious twinkle of one who was not easily fooled by sanctimony and pretension. [15]

The figure of the clown which stands out here in relation to the person of the master emerges just as clearly in the various tales of Zen monks at the point of death. The classic instance is that of Teng Yinfeng who, when he was about to die, asked, "I have seen monks die sitting and lying, but have any died standing?" "Yes, some," was the reply. "How about upside down?" "Never have we seen such a thing!" Whereupon Teng stood on his head and died. When it was time to carry him to the funeral pyre he remained upside-down, to the wonder of those who came to view the remains, and the consternation of those who would dispose of them. Finally his younger sister, a nun, came and, grumbling at him, said, "When you were alive you took no notice of laws and customs, and even now that you are dead you are making a nuisance of yourself!" With that she poked him with her finger, felling him with a thud, and the procession carried him away to the crematorium. [16] In this way Teng, assuming what, from the remarks of his sister, was the not unfamiliar role of the clown, expressed his achievement of spiritual freedom, his liberation from a desperate clinging to life and anxiety over self, and therefore his transcendence of the problem of death. There is here an element of both a promethean laughter in the face of death and a comic freedom within the larger freedom of enlightenment. The realization of an authentic liberation, as in so much of the Zen tradition, is attested by humor, and the symbol of that liberation is the paradoxical figure of the clown.


THE ZEN MASTER AS COMIC MIDWIFE

If the Zen master occasionally assimilates himself to the figure of the clown this is not, however, simply an end in itself, or a personal actualization of spiritual freedom alone, but a means to an end. In full accord with the Mahaa-

14. Ibid., pp. 124-125 (including plate).

15. Daisetz T. Suzuki, Zen and Japanese Culture (New York: Pantheon Books, 1959), plate 40. There is a difference of opinion as to whether this is a self-portrait or a portrait by a disciple.

16. Blyth, Oriental Humour, pp. 93-94.
yaanist emphasis upon the compassionate concern of the Bodhisattva for the enlightenment of all, the truly enlightened one seeks through a variety of techniques -- including humor -- the awakening of the disciple. In a manner that is analogous to the "Holy Fool" tradition in the Greek and Russian Orthodox churches, in which the monk assumed the role of the fool, or engaged in bizarre or impious behavior, in order to reveal the folly of the people and to awaken piety, [17] the Zen master becomes a clown and behaves or instructs in unorthodox ways in order to reveal the comedy in a false view of self, and to awaken a new perspective on existence.

In this mode of relationship the master functions as a midwife of truth in the socratic sense, and often this midwifery is of a comic sort. The master does not and cannot teach the truth in the sense of indoctrination, for the truth to be realized -- an intuitive, nondiscursive truth -- cannot be dispensed in this way. It cannot, in fact, be dispensed in any way. In Kierkegaardian terms, the master is not a teacher of truths but an occasion for the truth to manifest itself within the inner being of the disciple. [18] The midwife, as it were, does not pass the baby from the stork to the mother, but assists the mother in delivering the baby. This presupposes, of course, that the truth is present already, though in an obscured form, requiring only an occasion for its realization. The type of occasion afforded by the Zen master, however, is frequently identified by the peculiarity of being a comic occasion.

Many tales have arisen in the Zen tradition illustrating such a maeutic device. A monk asked Toozan (Ts'ao Shan, 807-869), for example, "Are not monks persons of great compassion?" The master indicated approval. "Suppose the six bandits come at them. What should they do?" "Also be compassionate," the master replied. The monk pressed further, "How is one to be compassionate?" The master said, "Wipe them out with one sweep of the sword!" "What then?" asked the monk. "Then they will be harmonized." [19] (Through this wordplay the monk is supposed to come to the realization, through the incongruity of a literal interpretation, that the six bandits are the sensuous desires which must be both eradicated and at the same time harmonized.) There is a distinct element of play and game in such dialogues (mondoos) between master and disciple, many of which move back and forth at length, with each maneuver by the disciple being deftly countered in an effort to bring him to the point at which his resources are exhausted and he is opened to deeper insight. [20] Whether this is the play and game of humor or not --

 For a translation of some of the more extensive and elaborate dialogues, see Richard S.Y. Chi, The Importance of Being Intuitive (Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press, 1968), Part II

though one suspects that behind the awesome visage of the master there is a faint twinkle in his eye -- the purpose of the repartee is not to develop the dialectical abilities of the disciple, or to display those of the master, but to reveal the rational approach as a false trail. The master plays with the disciple, like a cat with a mouse, not however to destroy him but to awaken him. Rather than the mondoo being an exercise in sophistry, leading nowhere, it is really an exercise in what might fittingly be called a "comedy of errors." Once the error is revealed the disciple realizes how funny his question had been, as in the case of the monk who asked Chookei (Ch'ang Ch'ing, 854-932), "What is meant by the True Eye of the Law?" only to receive the response, "I have a favor to ask of you: don't throw sand around!" [21]

In a similar vein, there is a comic dimension to many of the paradoxical and seemingly nonsensical kooans given to the disciple to meditate upon as a means of gaining release from an unenlightened way of perceiving the self and the world. This is not accidental, for the very provenance of comedy is nonsense and absurdity. Comedy plays with absurdity, and revels in irrationality, turning it to its own ends. In the Zen use of nonsense there is considerable psychological insight. One may approach a false view of things by rationally pointing out its errors and contradictions in the grand manner of the philosopher, but often a more effective method is to do so absurdly and humorously. For once the ridiculousness of the viewpoint is revealed and appropriated comically, instead of having been driven into a corner and held at bay by the overpowering logic of the master, as in the reductio ad absurdum methodology pursued in the Maadhyamika system of Naagaarjuna [22] -- a position which may only be a position of intellectual bondage in which the rope has been pulled tighter around the neck of the disciple -- one has been freed to laugh, and is therefore truly liberated. On the other hand, there is the distinct possibility in the discursive approach that the disciple will be tempted by the very intellectualism of the approach to seek some new way of overcoming the philosophical dilemma, some nuance that has been omitted or some angle that has been overlooked by the master -- a tantalizing defeat which may only perpetuate the argument, and hence the deception, ad infinitum. Something of the spirit and wisdom of the Zen method is captured in the account of Yoogi (Yang Ch'i, 992-1049) who rose ostensibly to lecture to his monks on the path of enlightenment, but instead began laughing and exclaimed simply, "Ha! ha! ha! What's all this! Go to the back of the hall and have some tea!"

It is because of this comic/socratic character of the Zen technique that one finds such a constant stress in the kooan and mondoo upon contradiction, nonsense and absurdity, or at least apparent contradiction, nonsense, and absurdity. As in Ummon's answer to the searching question of the monk, "When all mental activity is at an end, what is it like?" -- "Bring the Buddha-hall here and we'll weigh it together!" [24] -- it is as if one were suddenly plunged into the world of Lear's nonsense rhymes or of Alice in Wonderland. It is not however, sheer nonsense; a truth is being pointed to obliquely and comically, for to point to it directly and philosophically would be both impossible and misleading. Nonsense does not mean totally without sense, but without sense in the customary view of what constitutes sense, and beyond rationality in the ordinary understanding of reason. In nonsense one refuses to take with absolute seriousness -- that is, with humorlessness -- the world of sense, whether of common sense or sophisticated reason. Nonsense is the question mark placed after the supposedly firm reality of the "real" world of intelligibility, the irrefutable logic of rationality, or the categories and dichotomies of any system. It is this maeutic play upon irrationality in order to move beyond rationality that is expressed in the familiar kooan, "What is the sound of one hand clapping?" [25] or the mondoo, "What is the essence of Buddhism?" "Three pounds of flax!"


SUDDEN ENLIGHTENMENT AND THE COMIC TWIST

In the emphasis upon "sudden awakening," particularly as found in the Southern Ch'an school and the Rinzai sect, is to be seen a further point of correspondence between humor and Zen. Common to both is the element of abruptness, in the one case an abruptness which precipitates laughter, in the other case an abruptness which precipitates enlightenment. What the Zen masters have often done is to use the one form of abruptness, that of humor, as an occasion for the other. This is by no means purely accidental, since the sudden realization of the point of a joke is directly analogous to the sudden realization of enlightenment. The point of the joke, or the humorousness in the antics of the clown, is something that is caught immediately and effortlessly, or it is not caught at all. It does, of course, require preparation in terms of setting, context, and mood -- and here the "sudden realization" school of Zen includes rather than excludes the "progressive realization" school. Nothing is more awkward and flat than an inappropriate joke, or a joke out of the context that permitted it to be funny, or a joke the surprise ending of which has not been carefully prepared. But when the comic twist comes, like the "twist" of en-

24. Blyth, Zen and Zen Classics, II, 122.

25. Attributed to Hakuin.

lightenment, it comes spontaneously and uncoerced. If it requires explanation and the effort of understanding it ceases to be funny, even when it is comprehended intellectually, and the attempt is made to force an embarrassed smile. If one does not get the point instantaneously and intuitively laughter does not follow -- that is, it is not funny -- though later one may come to comprehend the humor that was in it in a secondhand, discursive understanding. There is, of course, the case of the proverbial Englishman who gets the point and laughs a day later; nevertheless, the delayed realization of the joke comes, when it comes, abruptly and spontaneously. Explaining a joke, therefore, like explaining enlightenment, is the worst thing that could happen to it, for the rational translation of its irrationality is totally different from getting the significance immediately and naturally; that is, from actually experiencing its humorousness. In the one case it is intellectualized, and though the point may be comprehended nobody laughs; in the other case the laughter is not the result of purposively taking thought about the matter, and everybody laughs effortlessly. It is for this reason that humor and Zen are so suited to each other, and in their spheres of coincidence are often so inseparable.

There is also a further correlation to be seen in the methodology of Zen "midwifery" between the elements of suddenness, surprise, and shock in the abrupt twist of humor and the similar virtues of the abrupt blow of the kyosaku, as well as the slapping, kicking, and shouting frequently mentioned in the anecdotes of the early Zen masters. These are techniques of the same order and intent. Suddenness, surprise, and shock are the very heart of humor, and the stock-in-trade of the clown and comedian. Both the comic and the dramatic techniques (and, as has been argued, even the dramatic techniques have a comic dimension to them) are a form of spiritual "shock therapy" which can serve to break up the patterns of thought and rationality that hold the individual in bondage. At a certain juncture further words and reasonings may only bind the cords more tightly, or perpetuate the illusion that the problem is solvable in these terms. What may be required, therefore, is the sudden jolt of the kooan, the irrational turn of the humorous anecdote, or the absurdity of the comic figure. If the individual has become removed from reality, if he has lost touch with the true nature of things, if he is caught in the web of artificial constructs, the function of humor, like that of the kyosaku, can be that of snapping the bonds of his illusion, and bringing him back to reality.

Hakuin's commentary on the Hannya Shingyoo, which he entitled Dokugo (i.e., "poisonous words of") Hannya Shingyoo, is a case in point. The shock-value of this wry humor, on the surface sacrilegious, is its own justification as a device for awakening the reader to the dangers inherent in a mere intellectual and doctrinal appropriation of any religious teaching: that it may be substituted for the reality toward which it points, like the mistaking of the

pointing finger for the moon. [26] This, in Ummon's blunter way of putting it, would simply be to "swallow the saliva of other people, and succeed in memorizing and accumulating heaps and loads of curios and antiques." [27] The choice however, between a more physical form of abruptness and surprise and a more humorous form, at least in the greater flexibility of the earlier Zen tradition is a matter of accommodating the technique to the situation and individual involved. In full accord with the ancient practice of Indian and Asian spiritual masters of adjusting the approach to the specific personality and need of the individual, in some circumstances a more dramatic method might be required, and in others a more comic method.


ICONOCLASM AND THE FOLLY OF THE DESIRING SELF

There has probably never been a religious movement more sweepingly iconoclastic than Zen; idols of every sort are mercilessly smashed: scripture, doctrine, tradition, meritorious works, ritual, liturgy, ecclesiasticism, reason, self, prayer, gods, and even the Buddha. Much of the humor in Zen is therefore iconoclastic in character; before enlightenment and liberation can occur, all idols must be overturned or -- which is the same -- laughed out of existence. Anything is potentially an idol; therefore anything is a legitimate object of laughter. No aspect of one's existence is to be taken too seriously. This is precisely the function of humor; for to take things too seriously, however important and significant they might ordinarily seem, is to be dependent upon them and therefore to be caught in the wheel (the vicious circle) of attachment, desire, and anxiety. Beginning with the first Ch'an patriarch the comic/iconoclastic motif is central to Zen, as in the legend of Bodhidharma's response to the inquiry of Emperor Wu of Liang: "'Ever since the beginning of my reign I have built so many temples, copied so many sacred books, and supported so many monks and nuns; what do you think my merit might be?' 'No merit whatever, sire!' was Bodhidharma's reply." [28]

This type of humor not only turns outward in a relentless attack upon idolatry, pretension, and pride, but also is permitted to turn inward toward even the most sacred moments of Zen experience itself, as in the episode of Toozan's enlightenment. In the exuberance over his awakening, Toozan exclaimed to his master, Ummon, "From now on I will go where there is no smoke of human habitation, keep not a grain of rice, but will entertain all the people from the ten directions of the world, dissolve the glue [of their attachment] and release them from their bonds!" Ummon twitted him, "Your body is no bigger

than a cocoanut, but what a big mouth when you open it " [29] Perhaps the most sacrosanct elements in Zen, in the formal sense, are its "apostolic succession" of continuous transmission from the Buddha through Mahaakaa`syapa to the present, and the so-called Zen creed which summarizes the essential thrust of Zen teaching. [30] Yet there are instances of both of these traditions being parodied, as in Mumon's summary and commentary:

A long time ago when the World Honored One was dwelling on Vulture Peak, He picked up a flower and showed it to the congregation. They all remained unmoved, but the venerable Mahaakaa`syapa smiled. The Honored One said: "I have in my hand the doctrine of the right Dharma which is birthless and deathless, the true form of no-form and a great mystery. It is the message of non-dependence upon (words) and letters and is transmitted outside the scriptures. I now hand it to Mahaakaa`syapa."

[Mumon's commentary]: Golden-faced Gautama behaved outrageously. He reduced the sublime to the simple. He sold dog meat for mutton and thought it wonderful to do so. Had the whole congregation smiled, to whom would he have transmitted the right Dharma? Had Mahaakaa`syapa not smiled, to whom would he have transmitted it? If you say that the right Dharma can be transmitted, the golden-faced old man deceived the world. If it cannot be, how could he give the message even to Mahaakaa`syapa?

When he held up a flower
His secret was revealed.
When Mahaakaa`syapa smiled
No one in heaven or on earth knew what to make of it. [31]

The fool and his folly is commonly the subject of comedy, particularly the fool who is blissfully unaware of his folly, and, more particularly, the fool who mistakes his folly for wisdom. This, in Zen, describes the self-portrait of man. Humor is therefore not only a permissible but an especially appropriate way of getting at what in Buddhism generally has consistently been identified as the fundamental folly of ignorance, desire, and illusion of self. If the ego, for instance, is understood as one of the elements of the human problem, then humor corresponds to the realization of the comedy of the substantial ego, the refusal to take the ego seriously or absolutely in its pretension of being the one secure point of reference and consciousness -- as in Descartes' philosophy where, when all else is in doubt, one retreats to the seemingly impregnabl

30. Attributed to Bodhidharma, but undoubtedly of later formulation:

"A special transmission outside the scriptures;
No dependence upon words and letters;
Direct pointing at the soul [inner being] of man;
Seeing into one's nature and the attainment of Buddhahood."

refuge of the substantial ego: cogito ergo sum. There is no small irony in the fact that what is taken as the most fundamental axiom of Cartesian thought is the fundamental illusion of Buddhist thought. In Zen in particular it is through humor that the ego is revealed as being only the mask that the actor puts on, or holds in front of his face (as in Greek drama, and the original meaning of persona as "mask"), hiding his true identity, a mask which is both a tragic mask from the standpoint of ignorance and suffering, and a comic mask from the standpoint of enlightenment and liberation.

Similarly, if one takes the Buddhist emphasis upon the problematic of desire, there is something not only pathetic but comic about passion, greed, envy, and hatred, and one is fully liberated only when he sees both its pathetic and its comic side, both the suffering and the folly of his insatiable grasping. Likewise, an aspect of the experience of enlightenment in Zen may be seen as the realization of the forms of one's ignorance as foolish and therefore humorous, so that a part of what the liberation of the awakening may mean is the freedom to laugh at the comedy of one's blindness, and to laugh in the joy of newfound insight.


THE FREEDOM OF HUMOR AND THE FREEDOM OF ENLIGHTENMENT

As has been intimated above, humor in Zen is not only, in various ways, an aspect of the methodology of approaching enlightenment and liberation; it is also the consequence of enlightenment and liberation. To see the world and one's individuality in this new light is coincident with seeing it through the comic perspective at a profounder level, and to be liberated is coincident with experiencing the world and one's individuality in the freest sense of the comic spirit. To the degree that one is free, one is free to laugh in the fullest and most joyous sense. Humor is caught up in the joy of awakening and emancipation. At every level humor spells freedom in some sense and to some degree. Here, however, the ambiguous freedom to laugh which moves within the conflicts and tensions of existence -- the freedom, therefore, which is still within the context of bondage -- becomes the freedom to laugh on the other side of enlightenment and liberation. He who is no longer in bondage to desire, or to the self, or to the law, he who is no longer torn apart by alienation and anxiety, can now laugh, as it were, with the laughter of the gods.

Something of this spirit is captured in the account of the enlightenment of Shui-lao. Upon asking his master, Baso (Ma Tsu, 709-788), "What is the meaning of Bodhidharma's coming from the West?" Baso kicked him in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Immediately Shui-lao was enlightened, got up, and began clapping his hands and laughing. Daie (Ta Hui, 1089-1163) reports that when asked about the nature of his enlightenment, Shui-lao re-
plied, "Since the master kicked me, I have not been able to stop laughing." [32] Similarly, at the end of his life, Razan (Lo Shan, ninth century), sensing his end to be near, ascended the rostrum to speak, but instead dismissed the monks. He then remarked simply, "If you wish to show your gratitude for the Buddha's goodness to you, you should not be too earnest [anxious] about propagating the Great Teaching," after which he began laughing loudly, and died. [33] Sometimes in the Zen accounts it is the monk rather than the master who provides the humorous turn, and this is taken as a sign of his progress toward or achievement of enlightenment. There is the story, for example, of the monk who asked Ungo (Yung Cho, ninth century), "Mountains and rivers, the great earth -- where does it all come from?" "From delusive imagination," countered Ungo. To which the monk responded, "Then won't you please imagine a piece of gold for me!" Whereupon the monk was received by the master. [34]
In terms of the mythological schema with which the essay began, the achievement of the comic spirit and perspective in this sense may be interpreted as a corollary of the recovery on a higher level of the spontaneity, immediacy, and naturalness enjoyed by the child -- the freedom that is prior to the emergence of rationality and order, and the dualistic rift in experience between self and world, mind and body, good and evil, sacred and profane. This is not, however, simply a return to infancy, a regression to the primordial womb, but a return, as it were, on a higher plane. It is both identical to and radically other than the prerational plane. The experience that lies between the alpha and the omega of the spiritual pilgrimage is not simply a grand detour which counts for nought. Rather it is carried into a fuller dimension; it is transcended and brought to fulfillment. Nor is this a resolution of opposites through an uneasy compromise, like the precarious "middle way" of the tight-rope walker suspended in midair, but a genuine dialectical transcendence of the opposites. A new world of revelation and redemption has been entered. As Suzuki says of the experience of satori: "The world for those who have gained a satori is no more the old world as it used to be... Logically stated, all its opposites and contradictions are united and harmonized into a consistent organic whole." [35] The humor which corresponds to this level, therefore, is not simply reducible to the laughter of the child -- though it includes this -- but is the laughter of maturity. It is the comic spirit and perspective of one who has passed through Paradise-lost, who has known alienation and anxiety, but who has come out on the other side that is identified in myth as Paradise-regained.


Emptiness is the source - The best home videos are here

I started out simple and then my art history mind went crazy. I could not post the whole thing in the string, so I thought I would blog it here… I am an Artisan .. thus EPJ ~ artisan.

Here is what I think I know about the development of Artist / Craftsmen.

The concept and importance of “Art” is subjective and reflective and very cultural. Primitive cultures use “art” as a form of communication, usually ritualized into a greater importance beyond the visual and into the sacred. “Art” has societal function and tool for ubiquitous understanding of human archetypes and anthropomorphism. Druids of ancient Europe, similar to some Muslim law about images of religious nature, forbid the images of god created animals and humans, except in relation to the sacred, or gods themselves. Though most of what we know of the Druids is mostly through biased accounts of Roman soldiers… now known to be mostly political spins back in Rome to encourage the citizens support of the concurring Gaul. (Which also included terrorism on civilians and destruction of cultural value, including artwork, to de-moralize … everyone should read the Prince to understand what is going on today in a similar manner) Which bring it to the next stage of art as communication for political power and recognition. This is the first division, in my opinion, of the artist from the tradesmen. Where there is wealth there is the luxury of art for no greater purpose other than secular power balanced by Art used for the purpose of control over the masses through imagery and indoctrination. A practice called “marketing” today.

The Roman approach to art was far different from the Greeks dedication of art, which had the refinement of art without question of purpose or functionality, but yet controlled with social morality (nudes were only late in Greek history) and religious faith. The Roman use of art as a social tool is echoed into the suppression and control of art forms through the middle ages due to the Roman Church. Art had one purpose, but to the glory of God, which continued into the 14th century. And funny, Padua in Italy was one possible source for the Renaissance, for the while the church was making sure art was used for politics and God across Europe, the Padua University was left to a century of exploration in art (and some science) and nearly back into a secular realm.

Freed from the control of the church Art became more mainstream to the upper class families, not just the divine rule of Kings. As massive amounts of people were moving from the country farms to the City, everything from fashion to architecture became specialized fields. But the discovery of electricity changed every thing. The real break in the Craftsmen from Artist comes from the Industrial Revolution in the 18th century. We also see here a growing specialty of “design” emerging from this era, determining what is efficient and what is opulent. Design was conceptual work for other people’s needs or purposes, but not the manufacturing. So now we have Artists, Designers, and Craftsmen. Which only works really well in a well balanced economy, with affordable resources, and a good market among a middle class which can churn local money. Value is seen, value is created, value is subjective. Art and Craft can flourish.

Unfortunately, the industrial revolution created the Barons who quickly replaced the tyranny of Feudal Lords of the Medieval era, yet even without the churches moral backing, they standardized value and streamlined production. Yes, the turn of the last century, was a blossoming of art styles and meanings, but only as long as money was shared across the middle and upper classes. But was not “popular” among the common class until much later, mostly due to the wealthy kept their art in homes and not among museums yet. Many artist died poor, even if their work was valuable. The common man was more concerned with making a living. Here the industrial revolution crushed the tradesmen.. Stripping them of value and purpose, forcing them from self-reliant people, into factory slaves. Which is why Unions were started to protect men, women, and children against the abuse of corporate greed.. hmm…

What we see now, and the confusion, debate, and reluctance to label oneself … actually started in the 80’s when art and religion clashed in a culture war. Art was further divided off from culture by media, money, and social backlash … but freed back to it’s original purpose of communication of the sacred .. the emotions.. the “Heart” mentioned above. Art, like back in Padua, embraced the university as secular islands for exploration. Yet, without a greater culture to link with … Art became a subculture, full of darker explorations and often shunned by mainstream society, which chose to focus on the commerce of Design and the further decline of the craftsmen in favor of cheap Industry.

Today, after decades of corporate greed and massive debts both in the personal world and in government. Craft is now trite and common, art is not really important to the masses and both are the first things cut in every budget. A significant sign of the decline in cultural wealth, we are becoming a poor country with wealthy people in it.

Yet, I am heartened that any given economy those that create will always survive and those that are parasites will not. And while there are wealthy people, some artists will get known, some craftsmen will live well. I believe that even though “the victors write the history books” … it’s the artists that actually record history. For long after history fades to myth, bronzes and ceramics will still be there.

So I like that my work in wood it is only temporary, it was reborn and will die again, it has more variety than paint, and more intensity than clay. I am an Artisan.. I design for others, I make for purposes, I draw what I want, I make from my hands, my heart, my mind, and for the money. Mostly since I do not fit many places in this world… so when I am alone in the studio.. I am just a minor god.

The Kalash tribe is said to descend from Alexander the Great's army, but now it is fighting to preserve its traditions in a Taliban stronghold

I am standing on a roof in the mountains of the Kalash valleys. Below me hundreds of men are screaming and shouting as two small wooden balls are hit up the slopes by opposing teams of players. Women in intricately designed, brightly coloured dresses are looking on, talking and laughing. One player draws back his long wooden club and hammers the ball onward. Cries of joy fill the air.

"What just happened?" I ask the player. "We cheated," he laughs. "The ball was lost in the snow so I took a ball from my pocket and hit that one. Don't tell the other team. If they knew, we would lose this point."

The ball flies on up the four-mile-long course, over rivers and up banks. That night, the winning team will sacrifice an ox, paid for by the losers. Everyone will get drunk. It is winter and there is not much to do. The game is chikik gal.

In February this year, the Taliban assassinated Pakistan's Christian minister for minorities, Shahbaz Bhatti. He was the only politician representing the non-Muslim populations of Pakistan. His smallest ward was the Kalash, a 3,000-strong animist tribe living in the mountains of the Hindu Kush, in Pakistan's wild northwest frontier. A persistent myth tells of their descent from members of an errant division of Alexander the Great's army, which ripped through the mountains of northern Pakistan more than 2,000 years ago.

In Rudyard Kipling's time, the Kalash were known as the "black Kafirs" and their land was Kafiristan, the setting for his tale of insanity and idolatry, The Man Who Would be King. The "red Kafirs", their neighbours, the subjects of Kipling's story, were brutally converted at the end of the 19th century. They became Nuristanis, "enlightened ones", and their rugged mountain land is one of the centres of the war against the Taliban.

The Kalash live in three valleys (Bumboret, Birir and Rumbur) by the Afghan border in the province of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. In winter, flights to Chitral, the nearest town, are routinely and consistently cancelled without warning. My journey from Islamabad was by road, through Mardan and Dir up to the Lowari tunnel and then down the other side. In the winter, when the Lowari pass is blocked by snow, the tunnel is the only way of travelling to Chitral by road. Its construction began in 2005 and it is now open for a few hours every day. It is less a tunnel and more a 9km-long cave.

But in spite of the constant sense of peril it evokes, the tunnel is changing Chitral and the Kalash valleys. Previously, getting to the nearest city, Peshawar, meant a trip through Afghanistan. Now the tunnel brings supplies from the rest of the country. With access comes fear. "Extremists use the tunnel to come here," says Taj Udeen, a local police commander. "We have to make sure we know who is coming to our district."

They certainly knew we were coming. Tourism has dropped off steeply since 9/11 – in the 1990s thousands of people visited Chitral annually, now that figure is below 100 – and we were among few outsiders to visit the Kalash valleys in the past year. Desperate to make sure nothing happened to our four-strong team, 10 armed policemen accompanied us. We spent a month in the valleys. They never left our side.

For centuries, the Kalash have been fighting to preserve their traditions. People are converted to Islam every year. "Extremist Muslims prey on weak people and create internal divisions," Imran Kabir, a Kalasha polymath (he reveals that he is, variously, a butcher, teacher, writer and junkyard owner) tells me.

A local teacher, Akbal Shah, recounts the story of his father, who worked as a frontier policeman and converted to Islam because he was the only Kalash man in an all-Muslim unit. "He was not educated, so they said to him that if he didn't convert he wouldn't go to heaven. He ended up believing them because he didn't want to stand out. The Muslims are a big majority, they are pressing us everywhere." Deathbed conversions are common and people talk of being offered wives and money if they convert. When I interviewed one of the local imams, Nasir Abdul, at his newly built mosque, he spoke of the love he has for the Kalash people before going on to say that he "hopes they will convert to Islam so that they can go to paradise". He is a friendly man who does not pay people to convert, but his objective is the same: the end of the Kalasha religion.

Not all Muslims in the area feel this way. One convert who everyone calls "Mullah" tells me: "Everyone should be free to believe what they like." And while Muslims are not allowed to convert to the Kalash religion, men like Mullah participate in Kalash festivals and rituals in a way that makes you believe that if they could convert back, they would.

Wali Khan, the Kalash headmaster of a primary school in Bumboret valley and a charismatic and popular figure, has worked tirelessly to improve the standards of schooling in the valleys (until the 1990s, there were no official schools). His family is typical in that two of his three brothers have converted to Islam (the one who hasn't is confusingly nicknamed Mujahideen). He tells me that for "two years my brother was living like an imam. But then he got bored and now he is drinking and smoking and dancing!" Drinking means the local moonshine, tara, which tastes like schnapps, or homemade wine, which tastes like sherry. Kalash dealers routinely and illegally sell both drinks to Muslims.

Another source of tension is the aid that the Kalash receive from NGOs and the government. At the centre of this controversy is the Kalasha Dur – a museum, small hospital, library, hostel and school complex for the Kalash (which Muslims cannot attend), housed within an absurdly Greek-looking palace built by the NGO Greek Volunteers, with help from Greece's government body Hellenic Aid. Greek Volunteers's director, Athanasios Lerounis, a long-time champion of the Kalash and the man who raised the money to build the centre, assures me that though there are "similarities to the Ionic style", the building came from "the local architecture". The attempted olive growing that goes on is, however, more likely to be an ancient tradition of Athens.

In 2009, a Taliban unit stole into the valleys at night and kidnapped Lerounis. They had been tipped off by locals sympathetic to their cause and came to the Kalasha Dur during a night when only two security guards were posted. One guard fled while the other stood his ground and was killed. Lerounis was taken swiftly across the Afghan border to Nuristan. The Greek teacher's ransom, thought to be up to £1m, was paid and he returned to Greece. The security services will not let him return to Pakistan because they believe his presence in the country is dangerous. Lerounis, who wants to come back to the valleys, tells me he does not want to talk about the kidnapping because doing so would endanger the Kalash people. Whatever they think of the Taliban's policies, the Kalash stress their neutrality: they are too vulnerable to court trouble.

The kidnapping highlights the security risk presented by the lavish Greek building: in a small, rural community, it sticks out. Locals say that there is a Taliban plot to blow up the Kalasha Dur. The building's detractors say that the exclusion of Muslims from the school only adds to the resentment felt by those who feel that the Kalash get too much money from outsiders.

Wali Khan used to work with Lerounis compiling a Kalasha alphabet, but left because he didn't like the division the Kalasha Dur had created. "The Kalash and the Muslims have to get along; they have to live side by side," he says. "So why make a school in which only one kind of person can be taught?" Lerounis argues that the school was built in response to a need highlighted by the Kalash community: "I asked them what they wanted and they told me they needed a school… There are many Muslim schools and many madrasas. The Kalash need this. There is a division because of their tradition, not because of our building."

The Kalasha Dur's first-aid centre treats Muslims, and Greek Volunteers have also built Muslim schools and secured a clean-water supply that is used by everyone. Yet the suspicion remains that they do as much harm as good. Imran Kabir believes that Lerounis created a culture of dependence so that in the end people "treated him like a God". Instead of praying to their maker, Kabir told me, they would pray to Lerounis. Since he has been gone, the Kalash have started helping themselves again, something Lerounis would probably approve of.

Nabaig (like Prince, he has no second name) is the first Kalash lawyer. He works in Chitral and, when he is in court, wears a suit and tie that makes you think of Reservoir Dogs. Back in the valleys, in his traditional clothes, he tells me that the United Nations Development Programme money that comes to the valleys "goes in the pockets of the politicians and higher personalities". The same is said of the international money that came to the country to help relieve flooding in 2010.

"None of the money came to us," says Nabaig, who points out that food is now twice the price as a result.

Almost all accounts of the Kalash fixate on the tribe's mythological descent from Alexander the Great. The romance of Alexander's tribe is a key part of Kalash tourism, although "they did a DNA test and they found no connection" is a familiar refrain here. Lerounis calls the area an "open museum"; the valleys' reputation as a Garden of Eden, a lost land of innocent people, meant that a summer stop to see the Kalash used to be an adventurous part of the hippie trail. But another form of tourism has developed: young Muslim men from the south, deprived of contact with women their own age, come here to chat up Kalash girls and watch them dance.

The government has a confused relationship with the Kalash. Wali Khan says it "protects the Kalash people very well now because we are a unique culture". But there is also worry that this kind of cultural tourism can be exploitative. Abdul Sattar, a village elder who has converted to Islam, tells me that "before, when I was Kalash, I was very happy. But the government and people from the rest of Pakistan were coming here and making us dance and perform. I became a Muslim because I couldn't enjoy performing for outsiders."

The government's press office in Islamabad sent out a string of mixed messages, telling me the trip was "very dangerous" yet repeatedly talking about how wonderful the Kalash were and how thrilled the government was to see journalists coming to the country to cover something other than the war with the Taliban. The constitution protects minorities and the law safeguards the customs of the Kalash. This is how Nabaig wins most of his cases, which involve Kalash alcohol and drug traffickers and disputes between Islamic and Kalash property laws. Still, the lawyer remains unconvinced by the authorities. "I am worried about what is happening because we are isolated. We are in the minority. We are worried that our traditions won't survive."

This survival is being safeguarded in interesting ways. There has been a concerted effort in recent years to reproduce as much as possible in order to bolster numbers. That way, if a couple of the children end up being converted, the pain will be less sharp. And, in the end, it is this spirit that will see the Kalash through. Free-minded and intensely aware of their "unique culture" they appear to be getting stronger rather than weaker. New roads and new technology often kill cultures such as theirs but the opposite seems to be true.

That they have had problems moving from a barter economy to a monetary one cannot be denied and that their traditional dependence on goats is becoming less valuable is also true, but the Kalash are using their increased contact with the outside world to educate others. Their language has, for the first time, been put into a written form (they use the English alphabet). Nabaig, who is 29, says that his generation is "very keen to be Kalash, to preserve our culture. With trade we are gaining facilities. We are feeding our families". One Kalash teenager told me his culture "was over". Almost all his friends contradicted him. Those who go to the big cities to work want to return to the valleys. One of the village kasis ("guardians of knowledge") told me that now "education is very good. When I was younger there were no schools, no roads and no Jeeps. We had no clothes. We had no shoes. Now it is better." The Kalash are learning about their culture in order to preserve it. As we look out over the valley and up to Afghanistan, Imran Kabir looks up and says: "The future is bright. The dark ages are gone."

Essentials

Wild Frontiers (wildfrontiers.co.uk) is running a 16-day adventure to the Hindu Kush spring festival, departing 7 May and costing £2,090 land only. Eithad Airways (etihadairways.com) flies London to Islamabad from £591. The FCO advises against all travel to the Federally Administered Tribal Areas, and much of Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa

Hannah M. Cotton, Robert G. Hoyland, Jonathan J. Price, David J. Wasserstein (ed.), From Hellenism to Islam: Cultural and Linguistic Change in the Roman Near East.   Cambridge/New York:  Cambridge University Press, 2009.  Pp. xxx, 481.  ISBN 9780521875813.  $125.00.   

During the 1600's and 1700's, the European invasion of North America intensified. With the growing interest in the continent and its aboriginal inhabitants, numerous books were published describing the Native peoples, their customs, histories, religions, and languages. Some of these books were based on personal observations, while some were simply speculation. Some of these books were intended to justify the European sense of superiority over the American Indians and to provide motivation to continue their conquest of the continent. A few of these books are described below.  
Indian Descriptions:

Indians, from a European perspective, were seen as exotic people, often described as being without religion and government, and sometimes being described as being in league with Satan. Books describing Indian life and customs often reflected a sense of European superiority.

Garcilaso de la Vega chronicled the De Soto expedition using the accounts of three men who were on the expedition. The book, published in 1605, described the Indians of Florida building the houses of chiefs on mounds which stand 28-42 feet high and which are capable of holding 10-20 dwellings.

Thomas Morton's New English Canaan; or New Canaan, Containing an Abstract of New England, published between 1632 and 1637, contained three parts: (1) "The Origins of the Natives; their Manners and Customs," (2) "A Description of the Beauty of the Country," and (3) "A Description of the People." In the book he mentioned the various powers of the Indian medicine men and the ways in which they had to prove their powers.

In 1643, a young Dutchman, Adriaen van der Donck, set out to observe the New York countryside and the Indian people. When he returned to the Netherlands in 1652, he put together his careful observations into a book manuscript, A Description of New Netherland. While he obtained a license to publish it, publication was delayed as the government did not want to draw attention to the colony, fearing that the English might invade.

Van der Donck arranged his observations thematically with sections devoted to the natural environment (waters, woodlands, plants, minerals, winds, and seasons) and the Indians. With regard to the plants raised by the Indians, he was fascinated with the watermelon and wrote:

"When really ripe and sound, it melts away to a juice as soon as it enters the mouth, and nothing remains to spit out but the pips ... they are so refreshing and often served as a beverage."

Van der Donck had learned some of the Indian languages spoken in New York and classified the languages of the region as falling into four different language groups.

Van der Donck observed the Native medicine men and marvelled at their abilities. He reported:

"they can treat gonorrhea and other venereal diseases so easily as to put many an Italian physician to shame."

While van der Donck's book is a fairly accurate description of seventeenth century New York and the Indians which inhabited the area, it has been generally ignored by most American historians as it was written in Dutch rather than English.

Shown above is the map of New Netherlands which van der Donck published.

New-Englands Rarities Discovered, written by John Josselyn, was published in 1672. The book is based on Josselyn's observations of the Eastern Abenaki in Maine. The work tended to be critical of the Puritan hegemony at Massachusetts Bay and therefore John Josselyn's writings were criticized by his contemporaries. The book is criticized by modern scholars for his occasional credulity.

In New York, Dr. Caldwallader Colden published his A History of the Iroquois Nations in 1727. He wrote:

"The Five Nations are a poor Barbarous People, under the darkest Ignorance, and yet a bright and noble Genius shines thro' these black clouds."

Indian Histories:

Where did the Indians come from? This was a question often asked by the Europeans. Ignoring, or perhaps unaware of, the Indian accounts of their origins, the Europeans attempted to fit Indian histories into their own mythologies of the Garden of Eden, the Jewish Diaspora, and other stories. For example, in a 1642 book entitled On the Origins of the Native Races of America, Hugo Grotius concluded that the Indians are the descendants of Germans and Chinese.

One of the common beliefs among Europeans was that the Indians were descendants of a Jewish tribe.   In Jewes in America, or probabilities that the Americans are of that race, published in 1650, Thomas Thorowgood made a comparison of Jewish and Indian cultures in an attempt to prove that Indians were really Jewish. He suggested that Indians were descended from one of the lost tribes of Israel. He cited the similarity between Indian and Jewish rites, knowledge of the flood, dancing, and circumcision. Two years later, in Americans no Jews, or improbabilities that the Americans are of that race Sir Marmon l'Estrange pointed out that the features mentioned by Thomas Thorowgood were general human customs and not evidence that Indians were Jews.

French naturalist Georges de Buffon began publication of a multi-volume work entitled Histoire Naturelle in 1749. In this work American Indians are described as being degraded and Indian men subject to impotence. He sees Indians as lacking families which, in turn, renders them incapable of establishing a true society.

In the book History of the American Indians (published in 1775), James Adair, an Indian trader, claimed that Indians were descendants of the ten lost tribes of Israel. Like many others of this time period, he felt that Indians had to have originated in the Garden of Eden and the best way to fit them into Christian history was to make them descendants of groups mentioned in the Bible.

Adair had lived with the Chickasaw for seven years and much of his book appears to have been written while he was living with them. The book provides minute descriptions of Indian life that could only be supplied by one who had spent considerable time observing the Indians. While the title of the book suggests a broad overview of Indians, it was actually an account of only those tribes with which he had had a personal experience. He felt that the Chickasaw were a typical American Indian tribe and seemed to be unaware of the great variety of Indian cultures. Like many other colonists, he had a stereotype that all Indians are the same.

In 1797, Benjamin Smith Barton's New Views of the Origins of the Tribes and Nations of America was published in Pennsylvania. According to Barton, Indians had once been a part of an ancient civilization which had declined over a long period of time. Therefore, it was impossible for them to advance toward civilization (defined as Euro-American society) without substantial help from the European-based civilizations.

Religious Books:

Some of the early books looked at American Indian religions, usually from a viewpoint that these religions were inferior and that the Indians needed to embrace Christianity and European cultural traits in order to become civilized. Another theme that runs through some of the works is the conflict between the Protestants and Catholics.

In Christenings Make Not Christians, Roger Williams, in 1645, provided an argument against converting Indians to Christianity. He felt that the majority of Christians were unconverted and were as heathen as Indians. He argued that Protestants should abstain from Indian missionary work until they succeed among their own people.

In 1702, Magnalia Christi Americana written by Cotton Mather presented the origin story of the Puritans in New England. Contrasting the English Protestant approach to Indian land with that of the Spanish Catholics, Mather wrote that the English

"would not own so much as one foot of land in the country, without a fair purchase and consent from the natives that laid claim unto it."

Mather fails to mention the several thousand New England Indians who were annihilated by disease before the arrival of English colonists.

Captive Stories:

While it was common for the Europeans to capture Indians and take them back to Europe as either curiosities to be displayed like zoo animals or as slaves, Europeans found it shocking that Indians also took European captives. However, it was not uncommon for the European captives to refuse repatriation after living with the Indians. In 1700, for example, the Seneca agreed to give their French war captives back, but many of the prisoners had been adopted into Seneca families and refused to abandon their new lives. Only 13 French captives agreed to return to Canada.

In 1609, an English translation of the account of Juan Ortiz's dramatic rescue from death by Ulalah, the daughter of Hirrigua Chief Ucita was published. This account seems to have inspired John Smith to write a similar story about his rescue by Pocahontas in Virginia.

In 1682, Mary Rowlandson published her account of her captivity by the Nipmuc. The book is entitled Soveraignty and Goodness of God. Over time this book has become considered a foundational work in American literature and sections of it are often included in literature anthologies. It is one of the most widely read accounts of King Philip's War.

Louis Hennepin published his account of his travels and of being captured by the Sioux in 1697. While the work was widely read, Hennepin's extravagant claims are not fully reliable.

John Williams published his book The Redeemed Captive in 1707. This is an account of his capture at Deerfield in 1704. His story of salvation from heathenism (Indian) and Catholicism (French) made the book a bestseller.  

Government:

In 1632, Roger Williams wrote a small treatise which questions the English colonists' rights to appropriate Indian land under the authority of a royal patent. Colonial officials demanded a retraction. William's work has been described as a "large book in Quatro" and no copies of it have survived. The circumstances surrounding its disappearance are considered a mystery. This small treatise apparently provided sufficient justification for the English colonists to have it destroyed.

Indians were portrayed as "children of the devil" in the 1677 book The Present State of New-England, Being a Narrative of the Troubles with the Indians written by William Hubbard. The map which accompanied the book reduced the Indian presence in the area by assigning non-Indian names to the features shown. The book and its map were a litany of the various acts for which Indians are deemed responsible-burned barns, slaughtered stock, and human massacre. The book was basically a propaganda piece justifying the eradication of the Indians from New England.

In his 1787 Defence of the Constitutions of Government of the United States, John Adams recommended that political leaders pay attention to the governmental structures of Indian nations, particularly the separation of political powers and their democratic legislative structure.

The Ancient Past:

When the first Europeans began to arrive in the Americas, they did not come to a New World, but an ancient one. Native Americans had lived here for thousands of years. All around them, the newcomers saw evidence of this antiquity and many made attempts at explaining it. Some of these explanations were based on the authors' fantasies of European superiority and Christian accounts of creation. There were, however, some which were based on scientific observations.  

With regard to scientific observations, there are some people today who feel that Thomas Jefferson should be considered as the Father of American Archaeology for his excavation and observation of Indian mounds. In 1787, Thomas Jefferson published his Notes on the State of Virginia which examined the origins of native people in the area. The book includes a description of his excavations of an Indian mound near his home. Jefferson felt that American Indians had arrived at this continent from Asia, that they had arrived speaking only one language, and that, once here, their language had divided into a thousand different languages. He also postulated that Indians have been on the continent for an immense length of time. His views were attacked and he was called "a howling atheist."

Notes on the State of Virginia was the only full-length book written by Jefferson.

In a 1787 book by Benjamin Smith Barton, the great mounds in Ohio were claimed to have been built by Vikings rather than Indians. These Vikings, according to the author, then journeyed south where they became the Toltecs. This was a common belief during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and actually endures among some people today.

It wasn't just the Vikings who were credited with bringing "civilization" to North America. A book by John Williams, published in 1791,  An Enquiry into the Truth of the Tradition Concerning the Discovery of America by Prince Madog ab Own Guynedd about the Year 1170, supported the idea of Welsh-speaking Indians living in the interior of the Americas. Many European explorers anticipated finding Welsh-speaking Indians, and even in the twentieth century popular accounts of Indians claimed that some groups, such as the Kootenai in Montana, must be related to the Welsh.

Language:

Some of the English colonists studied the Indian languages, usually for the purpose of providing aids to missionaries. In some instances, writers simply provided a vocabulary list. In 1634, for example,   New England's Prospects, written by William Wood, contained a description of the region's natural history and native peoples. It included a five-page vocabulary of words and phrases.

The most important of the books on language was A Key Into the Language of America written by Roger Williams and published in 1643. The book is a phrase book and guide to Indian customs based on his experience among the Narragansett in Rhode Island. The book is organized into three parts: (1) Narragansett words and phrases, (2) geography and natural history, and (3) an account of Indian cultural institutions. Williams saw the origin of Indians as either Jewish or Greek. This was the first extensive book on Native American language which was published in English.

In the book, Williams contrasted Indian culture with European culture. Williams attacked some of the common stereotypes of Indian inferiority and pointed out that Indian cultures often had more civility and Christ-like spirit than did the European cultures.

In 1787, Jonathan Edwards, the son of a missionary who worked among the Stockbridge Indians and who grew up as a bilingual, published his Observations on the Language of the Muhhekaneew Indians which discussed Mohegan grammar. Edwards rejected many of the contemporary notions about primitive languages because of his first-hand knowledge of Indian languages.

For most churches, Easter is the biggest Sunday of the year. It is an occasion to celebrate the resurrection victory of Jesus Christ over Satan, sin, death, hell, and the wrath of God, while also seeing lost sheep return home and lost people become Christians.

 

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For some preachers, though, it is a difficult time because they struggle with the weight and pressure of preaching an Easter sermon in fresh ways year after year. Having now preached on every Easter at Mars Hill Church since 1996, I relate, and I would like to offer the following six preaching tips for Easter in hopes of serving those who serve others by preaching and teaching the gospel of Jesus Christ.

1. Keep your Easter message short

It is very difficult to get children’s workers on Easter because so many of your key people want to bring family, friends, and coworkers to church and then go enjoy brunch or some special time together. So, it is wise to do the Easter service “family style” with no childcare. This gives your kids’ workers a day off, allows you to turn services around more quickly (as Easter requires multiple services for many churches), and also allows the service to be uniquely fun. For little kids, perhaps some crayons and coloring sheets as gifts would be helpful. Let the parents know in advance that the service will be short, that some noise from the kids is welcome—indeed, the sound of children is a good sign of God’s grace and the church’s future—and that there will be lots of singing and celebration that the kids will enjoy. 

2. Keep your Easter message simple.

Easter is not a time to get fancy. The goal of the Easter sermon is not to impress your people with your oratory skills, your Greek syntax expertise, or your clever cultural insight. Easter is a time to boldly, loudly, passionately, gladly, and publicly proclaim the resurrection of Jesus Christ! So, keep your Easter sermon simple. Hearing the good news of Jesus is something your people will delight in if the Holy Spirit resides in them, so make it plain. They know you will tell them Jesus is alive, they are coming to hear it, and it sounds good every time, much like a wife whose husband often tells her he loves her and is devoted to her—she never tires of hearing it and rejoices every time.

3. Keep your Easter message invitational.

Make sure to clearly, winsomely, persuasively, and passionately invite people to repent of sin and trust in Jesus as God, Lord, and Savior during your sermon. Do not assume that everyone in attendance is a Christian, or assume that they will figure out salvation by themselves. Be an agent of the Holy Spirit who instructs people about the finished work of Jesus and what it means to repent of sin and trust in him for new life. Be bold, take a risk, and do the work of an evangelist like Paul commands.

4. Keep your Easter message special.

For believers during the Old Covenant era, Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement) was referred to simply as “the Day.” For Christians, the chain of events from Jesus’ crucifixion on Good Friday to his resurrection on Easter Sunday is the fulfillment of Yom Kippur. This makes Easter “the Day.” To celebrate the Day, the entire Easter service should be special. Some examples of special aspects to incorporate are a greatly decorated stage, fantastic joyful songs to sing, and a choir. Also, everyone on stage should be dressed up for the special occasion (for casual churches like Mars Hill, this is particularly noteworthy, and so I always wear a full suit, including a tie, on Easter and request that all our elders-pastors do the same). In addition, you should baptize people to show the personal application of the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ in our place for our sins.

Easter is a time to boldly, loudly, passionately, gladly, and publicly proclaim the resurrection of Jesus Christ! 

At Mars Hill, we baptize more people on Easter than any other time of the year. Some people sign up to be baptized in advance and come ready to share their salvation story in a few minutes from the stage during the service. Others are invited to repent of sin, trust in Jesus, and be baptized on the spot, and it is not uncommon to see men in suits and women in Easter dresses being baptized in response to the power of the gospel. We do baptisms after the sermon while taking communion and singing loudly together. We even like to have the bapto-cam positioned to show people going in and out of the water on the screens for everyone to see. On the Day, people are singing, crying, laughing, and cheering after the sermon. The celebration of changed lives erupts into something of a sanctified resurrection party. I would encourage every pastor to do something similar.

5. Keep your Easter message personal.

Before we preach or teach, those entrusted with this high honor need to first have a deep encounter with God the Holy Spirit to ignite in us an ever-deepening thankfulness and passion for the living Jesus. In the week before you preach, you will be busy with all the details of services for Good Friday and Easter Sunday, plus the family plans you must juggle with your ministry responsibilities. So, it is imperative that you intentionally set aside some sacred silence and solitude time to get with Jesus and remember his death, burial, and resurrection in place of sin for salvation. During that time it is good to read your Bible, repent of your sin, pray, invite the Holy Spirit to meet with you, read a good Christian book on the gospel, sing, and journal what God reveals to you. It is good to remind yourself of who you would be and what your life would be like had Jesus not saved you.

It is good to remind yourself of who you would be and what your life would be like had Jesus not saved you.

It would also be beneficial to remind yourself of the evidences of God’s grace you have witnessed in your own life, family, and ministry because of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Personally, I like to think of those people who have shed tears over sin they have committed and sins that have been committed against them and picture Jesus wiping every tear from their eye on the other side of resurrection as Scripture promises. I like to think of those people I know who are disabled one day being free to run and leap for joy on the other side of the resurrection. And I remember the deceased whom I love and I look forward to seeing them again on the day when we rise together to walk into the kingdom that never ends.

6. Keep your Easter message biblical.

Most importantly, your Easter sermon must be biblical because the Word of God about the Son of God is the means by which the power of God is unleashed to transform lives by the Spirit of God. The following list of Old and New Testament Scriptures regarding resurrection is by no means exhaustive, but is offered in hope of helping preachers and teachers find a section of Scripture in which to root their Easter sermon:

• Genesis 22:13 and Hebrews 11:19 show how the story of Isaac is a type of the resurrection.
• 2 Samuel 7:7–16 contains the Davidic Covenant, which promises that Jesus will rule over an everlasting kingdom, and Romans 1:3–4 shows the fulfillment as God the Father anointed God the Son as Davidic king at his resurrection.
• Psalm 16:10 promises that Jesus would not be abandoned in the grave.
• Isaiah 26:19 promises that the dead will rise.
• Isaiah 52:13–53:12 is the entire prophetic promise of Jesus’ life, death, burial, and resurrection, with the resurrection emphasized in 53:10–12.
• Ezekiel 37:1–10 gives an illustration of the resurrection of the dead.
• Daniel 12:2 is one of the clearest Old Testament Scriptures on the bodily resurrection of believers and unbelievers.
• Hosea 13:14 speaks of resurrection victory over death and is quoted by Paul in 1 Corinthians 15.
• Jonah 1:17 and 2:10 and Matthew 12:40 speak of Jonah’s three days in the fish as a type of Jesus’ resurrection after three days in the grave.

The Word of God about the Son of God is the means by which the power of God is unleashed to transform lives by the Spirit of God.

• Matthew 9:18–26 records Jesus resuscitating a young girl from death (unlike resurrection, in which the risen never dies again, resuscitation is followed by a second physical death). This passage could be used to show how one day Jesus will also cause believers to rise from death, despite mockery from the world as Jesus experienced at that event.
• Matthew 11:1–6 records that, as evidence of his divinity for John the Baptizer, Jesus appealed to the fact that he could raise the dead.
• Matthew 12:38–40; Mark 8:31; 9:31; 10:33–34; and John 2:18–22 all reveal Jesus prophesying his resurrection in advance.
• Matthew 22:23; Luke 20:27; and Acts 23:8 all report that the Sadducees denied the resurrection in arguments with Jesus.
• Matthew 28:9 and John 20:17, 20–28 all report that Jesus rose physically from death, not just spiritually.
• Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John all close with large sections reporting the bodily resurrection of Jesus Christ from death, and any of them, or portions from them, could make a good Easter sermon.
• Luke 14:12–14 is a parable Jesus told about the repayment that will come to the just at the resurrection.
• John 5:19–29 records Jesus teaching that we will stand before him for final judgment and rise for eternal life or eternal death.
• John 11:1–44 records the death of Lazarus and Jesus resuscitating him from death. Jesus also declares himself to be the resurrection and the life who can also raise us from death.

Hearing the good news of Jesus is something your people will delight in if the Holy Spirit resides in them, so make it plain.

• Twelve of the twenty-eight chapters in the book of Acts report that the continual refrain of the preaching in the early church was that Jesus had risen from death, and all or some of these sermon snippets could make a good Easter sermon.
• Acts 9 reports the dramatic conversion of Saul—who had overseen the murder of the early church deacon Stephen—when he was confronted with the risen Jesus.
• Acts 17:32; 23:6; and 24:11–15 report how belief in the resurrection can result in mockery and persecution.
• Romans 4:25 connects Jesus’ resurrection and our justification.
• Romans 6:5 says that we are united with Jesus by his resurrection.
• Romans 8:1–11 speaks of the new power we have, through the Holy Spirit, to say no to sin and yes to God because of Jesus’ resurrection.
• Romans 8:11 and 2 Corinthians 5:15 say that believers have the same power as Jesus did for his resurrection through God the Holy Spirit.
• Romans 10:5–13 speaks of how to be saved through Jesus’ resurrection.
• Romans 14:8–12 describes how Jesus is Lord of the dead and the living because he was dead and is now alive.
• 1 Corinthians 15 is arguably the most comprehensive treatment of resurrection in all of Scripture. While one sermon on the entire chapter would likely be impossible, there are innumerable options that could be emphasized in an Easter sermon.
• 2 Corinthians 5:1–10 teaches about the state between death and resurrection as well as the kind of body we will have after resurrection.
• In Galatians 1:1–2, Paul declares that the resurrected Jesus Christ gave Paul his apostolic authority.
• Ephesians 2:1–10 explains how we are dead in sin but made alive in Christ through his resurrection.
• In Philippians 3:1–11, Paul teaches that the resurrection is infinitely better than religion.

You should baptize people to show the personal application of the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ in our place for our sins.

• Colossians 1:15–20 speaks of the preeminence of the risen Jesus over every created thing.
• Colossians 2:6–15 and 3:1 say that we have been raised with Christ.
• 1 Thessalonians 1:2–10 encourages Christians to wait patiently for the second coming of the risen Jesus.
• 1 Thessalonians 4:16 teaches us that at the second coming of Jesus Christ, the dead in Christ will rise like him to be with him.
• 2 Timothy 2:1–13 reveals Paul using the resurrection of Jesus Christ as motivation for a life of faithful ministry in the midst of suffering and trial.
• 2 Timothy 2:17–18 actually names false teachers who denied the resurrection, and Paul declares them to be heretics for doing so.
• Hebrews 6:1–2 lists the doctrine of the resurrection among the most elemental and essential of Christian truths to learn.
• Hebrews 13:20–21 reminds us that the same God who raised Jesus from death is faithful to keep his promises to his people as well.
• 1 Peter 1:3–9 speaks of the inheritance that Jesus has purchased for us through his resurrection and how our suffering in this life reminds us of him until we rise in his kingdom.
• 1 Peter 3:21–22 and Romans 6:5 explain how the Christian act of baptism shows us the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus, which cleanses us from sin.
• 1 John 3:2 says that a Christian’s resurrection body will be like Jesus’ risen body.
• Revelation 1:17–18 reveals Jesus as the Alpha and Omega who was dead and is now alive.

Lastly, the ninth chapter of the book Doctrine: What Christians Should Believe may be of some help to those who preach or teach, or simply want to study the resurrection of Jesus Christ. In that chapter, called “Resurrection: God Saves,” my co-author Dr. Gerry Breshears and I answer the following questions in an easy-to-read, succinct fashion:

• What Is Resurrection?
• What Were Ancient Non-Christian Views of the Afterlife?
• What Is the Biblical Evidence for Jesus’ Resurrection?
• What Is the Circumstantial Evidence for Jesus’ Resurrection?
• What Is the Historical Evidence for Jesus’ Resurrection?
• What Are the Primary Ancient Objections to Jesus’ Resurrection?
• What Has the Resurrection Accomplished for Christians?

Money flies out of our hands this time of year and returns in the form of gifts to others to be opened in a holiday celebration. It is often said that money, however, is the root of all evil (a misquotation of the Bible, which states that the love of money is the root of all evil). The ancient Greek philosopher Aristotle, when considering the nature of the truly happy and fulfilling life for human beings, ruled out money. He did this because he saw that money is only an instrumental good. That is, it is only good for the sake of something else, namely, what we can get with it.

A deeper understanding of greed can help us to see that it is not only material goods that we desire money for, but also the security and independence that wealth can bring. Wealth is not a bad thing, in and of itself. It can help us meet our basic needs as well as enjoy luxuries which make life better. In many ways, greed is foremost a matter of the heart, of our inner lives. Greed is an excessive love or desire for money or any possession. Greed is not merely caring about money and possessions, but caring too much about them. The greedy person is too attached to his things and his money, or he desires more money and more things in an excessive way. Greed has unpleasant effects on our inner emotional lives. The anxiety and restlessness we feel when we long for some possession, and the false assurance that upon gaining it we'll be put at ease and satisfied places us in a literally vicious circle. By contrast, the virtue of generosity is most present not only when we share, but enjoy doing so.

While greed is an inner condition, it can be expressed in many of the choices that the greedy person makes. In fact, greed is related to justice in the following way. If I am greedy, and am excessive in my acquisition and keeping of possessions, I may be depriving others of their basic needs. Perhaps I could make do with last year's winter coat, rather than buying a new one, or if I do buy a new one I can donate last year's to a local shelter or agency, or to a person I know who is in need.

Finally, there are some things that we can do to combat greed in our lives. First, a bit of self-assessment can be helpful. We might track our spending over a one or two month period, and categorize our expenditures. This could shed some light on our priorities, and on ways we could cut superfluous spending. Second, we could take a holiday from consumerism. During this break, try to avoid advertising, trips to the mall, looking through catalogues, watching home improvement shows, and the like. This is both countercultural and freeing. Finally, just give some money away. Make some commitments to give a certain amount of money away on a regular basis to a charitable organizaiton, local religious group, or a relief agency. It may be difficult to do at first, but over time doing so will not only be good for you, it will help meet real needs that others have.

I think the words of Aristotle are appropriate for concluding here:

For what good would their prosperity do them if it did not provide them with the opportunity for good works?

For more on greed and the other capital vices, see Glittering Vices, from which most of the above is drawn.

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Check out my personal blog, dealing with other issues in philosophy and religion.

When The New York Times published the preliminary results of research by economists Joe Price and Justin Wolfers in 2007, the top brass at the NBA were livid. Stern and others at the NBA lashed out in spectacular fashion, at the researchers and the Times, calling the research "flat-out wrong" and a "bum rap."

Three years later, emotions have mellowed, the research has been fully vetted and published in a respected journal.

The NBA's position, meanwhile, is looking weaker than ever, offering an uncomfortable look at how the NBA addresses tough topics through the media.

Misunderstanding from the start

The study focused on implicit bias, a new discipline that had piqued interest in academia and beyond -- especially after it was featured prominently in Malcolm Gladwell's book "Blink." Researchers in many fields were finding that well-meaning people nobody would describe as closed-minded exhibited certain biases when they were asked to judge things very quickly. This was true of race, height, gender and more. (For instance, most of us choose to follow tall leaders, given an option, even though almost none of us think that's smart, when we stop to think about it.)

"I literally got the idea while reading 'Blink,'"  explains Price. He was eager to discover if the implicit bias Gladwell described actually affected decisions in the real world, for instance in the workplace. Sports presented a special opportunity to learn a lot more, because referees make quick decisions -- the kinds that reveal implicit bias -- every night.

"If I had as good a set of data on judicial sentencing, or hiring decisions, I would have gone and looked at those," says Price, who was then getting his Ph.D. at Cornell, and is now an assistant professor at Brigham Young. "In my mind, I don't have any issues with the NBA. I actually think they've achieved racial equality in so many dimensions. They just happen to be a lab setting in which I get quasi-random assignment, I get lots of interactions between a small number of actors. I get a perfect setting to look at racial bias. And in some ways, if it's happening on a court in front of thousands of people, then it's probably happening when you go to make purchasing decisions, or hiring decisions, or whatever decisions we can think of as more important."

And sure enough, Price and Wolfers found evidence of implicit bias among NBA referees. They didn't find any big problem -- it was less racism than other researchers had found in other populations. But still, some.

Most of the world found this fascinating and curious -- maybe something to learn from. The good news was that the NBA was in a strong position to take the news calmly, as clearly any effects were subtle: There were not players, fans, referees, owners or anybody else complaining of racism.  Most players met the news with the shrug.

But at the league office, David Stern oversees a league that once had an image, in his words, as "too black" to succeed. No small part of his tremendous success as a commissioner has come from moving the great American conversation about basketball away from old racial paradigms. The NBA resolved to reject the ideas in this research.

Stern and NBA president Joel Litvin were unrestrained in ripping the study to shreds. "The story," Litvin said at the time, "is based upon a paper that is flat-out wrong in its conclusions."

"My major concern about it is that it's wrong," echoed Stern. "This is a bum rap, that's all. This is a bum rap, and if it is going to be laid on us it should be laid on us by basis of some people who are purported to be scholars in a publication that purports to hold us up to a higher standard -- a little bit more should have been done."

Stern went on to claim that racism "doesn't exist in the NBA."

Charles Barkley, LeBron James, Kobe Bryant, Derek Fisher ... they all rushed to defend their league. Some called the research out of line.

And as a media maneuver, it succeeded. There are not routine public complaints about racism among referees. That idea has not really caught on.

So, declare it a public relations victory for the NBA, in the short term.

In the long run, though, that small victory packs a big blow to the NBA's credibility, especially on the topic of referees. The kind of racism Stern insists does not exist in the NBA has been shown by study after study to exist at some levels in every population tested. The NBA's chosen targets: Wolfers, Price and the New York Times reporter on the story, Alan Schwarz, are all highly respected in their fields.

And after having been lauded by experts for the Times, ESPN and others, the exact study the NBA was so sure was wrong was, on Friday, published in one of the most respected, peer-reviewed academic journals in the field: The Quarterly Journal of Economics.

The best experts agree, after rigorous review and much consideration, that there is a low level of implicit bias among NBA officials, just as there is among people all over the globe. The essential findings of the report published Friday are the same as what they reacted to so strongly in 2007.

Which need be neither surprising nor damning, taken in the proper context. Researchers have found similar results among Major League Baseball umpires, for instance. And among Oprah viewers, and everyone else who has ever been tested for implicit bias.

The NBA created a credibility contest, and lost

The NBA would not comment for this article. But three years ago, the league did not just crush the research with words, but also with competing evidence of their own. Litvin told Chris Sheridan at the time that only the NBA had the good research on this topic.

"We conducted our own study with experts in mathematics and statistical analysis, and those experts, looking at far superior data that included 148,000 calls, concluded unequivocally that there was no racial bias in officiating ... We have the information on specific referees and the specific calls they made, and they don't."

The NBA has never intentionally publicized its internal research, but versions of it spread far and wide after the results were shared with Wolfers. And the NBA's "far superior" study has fallen apart when scrutinized by independent experts. (Price and Wolfers have a second paper submitted to an academic journal about how, if the proper methodology is applied, the NBA's data actually, amazingly, confirms their findings of racial bias.)

The NBA's big criticism of Wolfers and Price is that their database of 600,000 calls is missing one important thing: The knowledge of which referee made which call.

Price agrees that would be nice to have, but insists it's not necessary to identify the trend. Their data -- collected from 1991-2003 -- shows, basically, that the whiter the three-man referee crew, the better the calls are for white players. The blacker the crew, the more calls favor black players.

"Here's an alternative experiment we could do," Price explains. "Let's just look at games in which there are three black referees, and games in which there are three white referees. In that case I do know the race of the person that blew the whistle. And when we limit our analysis to just those types of games, then you still see the same racial bias that we're documenting for the full set of games."

"If you knew who blew the whistle," he adds, "you could actually identify who the racist referees are. But actually what we found, when we looked at the patterns, is that it's not that we found there are any referees who are really racially biased. It's just that there's this consistent pattern, that black referees tend to favor black players and that white referees tend to favor white players. And the other thing that we found is that highest level of racial bias occurs when you have all white referees or all black referees."

Basically, the more black referees on the court, the better the calls for black players. And the reverse is true for white players. The entire combined effect is fairly limited, around 4 percent, but the pattern is certainly there.

All of this means not all that much about NBA referees, other than that they're human. The research was about human decision making in the workplace, and the referees were just a handy group to study.

And nothing about these findings do much to undermine the NBA's position as one of the most successfully race-blind organizations on the planet.

Not about rednecks, not even about basketball

Malcolm Gladwell's 2005 book "Blink" changed how we think about how we think. Gladwell explains the topic:

When you meet someone for the first time, or walk into a house you are thinking of buying, or read the first few sentences of a book, your mind takes about two seconds to jump to a series of conclusions. Well, "Blink" is a book about those two seconds, because I think those instant conclusions that we reach are really powerful and really important and, occasionally, really good.

His book says that our subconscious, immediate reactions are ever-present and powerful. Sometimes they're powerfully helpful. Other times they're powerfully misleading. But ignoring them is no way to go, and tuning into them can be more than a little enlightening.

"Blink" shows snap judgments, or "thin slicing" playing major roles in everything from, in his words, "marriage, World War Two code-breaking, ancient Greek sculpture, New Jersey's best car dealer, Tom Hanks, speed-dating, medical malpractice, how to hit a topspin forehand, and what you can learn from someone by looking around their bedroom."

He also talks about race, which, of course, gets people's attention. Gladwell discussed that with Oprah Winfrey, in a clip I really recommend watching. The point: When you have time to consider things, you may not exhibit racial preferences. But robbed of time to consider, for instance by the online Implicit Association Test (or IAT, which you can take online right now) you may be surprised what your brain expresses.

Oprah viewer Kia, who is black, was certainly surprised, after taking the IAT, at what the research said about her. Like the NBA, she had an urge to condemn the researchers, although her response was tongue-in-cheek: "My test results: I had a moderate preference toward white people. That surprised me like you wouldn't believe. ... I went home for a bit, and I analyzed it, and over-analyzed it, and I said well, I'm not the problem, the test is the problem."

Gladwell himself, whose mother is Jamaican and black, admitted to Oprah that when his own instantaneous biases were measured he demonstrated a moderate preference for white people, too.

The lesson Gladwell, Winfrey, Harvard researchers and others took from this was about environment: We may have reached a point where a lot of explicit racism (the kinds of things we'd associate with hate speech, the klan, segregation and the like) is largely behind us. But our brains are still bombarded with images of "bad" black people and "good" white ones, which affects our quick reactions to white and black faces.

The Implicit Association Test results make clear, though, that we may have come a very long way in a short amount of time in our feelings about race, there is still plenty going on. There are not populations -- not Oprah viewers, not corporations, not black people, and no, not NBA referees -- who demonstrate broad racial enlightenment on this test of instantaneous reactions.

A big opportunity for small racial progress

"If you think about how Jackie Robinson was treated; we don't treat black players like that anymore," says Price. "We've gotten rid of a lot of those issues. We've gotten rid of explicit racial bias. But what's potentially harder to get rid of is the implicit stereotypes that we all carry inside."

But, Price suggests, there is evidence we can still work to eliminate implicit bias. The key is awareness.

"All of our decisions are probably influenced, to a very small degree, by some type of bias, whether gender, race or religion," he says. "I think we can cognitively repress that stereotype by taking the decision more seriously. In the psych literature, when they go into a firm, and they document these measures of implicit bias, it appears that once you make people aware, it appears to kind of help dampen that racial bias. Even in the baseball study, they found that having the QuesTec technology [automated oversight of referees' ball and strike calls] helped to reduce racial bias. If I know that you are going to evaluate me perfectly, then I'm going to be a little more careful in my call and I'm going to get it right more often. I'll be less focused on racial bias, and more focused on getting the truth."

Here's where the NBA has an opportunity to score some credibility points: The data Price and Wolfers studied is, on average, more than a decade old. Since then, thanks to oversight changes after the Donaghy scandal, the ranks of referees are both more diverse and far more scrutinized than ever. Perhaps the referee corps started ahead of the curve, at about 4 percent racial bias as Price and Wolfers found, and has fallen from there. Perhaps they have made tremendous progress already.

The league is prevented from telling that story now, however, in part because they deny there was any bias to begin with.

"I think if the NBA had just said: 'wow, we didn't realize this was going on. 4 percent, that's not that big. We're doing better than other organizations, but let's see what we can do about it.'" suggests Price, "that would have been the right response and it probably would have gotten the job done."

Instead of taking a position that the study may have had merit, the NBA blew the study and its creators out of the water, while asking NBA fans to trust them that the real referee data, which they would not share with anyone, showed that referees were essentially perfect.

"There is this idea," adds Price, "that you can make the data say whatever you want. If only it were that easy."

To protect against charges of juicing the numbers, Price and Wolfers not only presented their findings in a peer-reviewed paper, but they also made all of the raw data available online -- the 600,000 calls.

Would that the NBA would back its own claims similarly. Perhaps, one day, the league's various self-serving claims on topics like racism and referees, the financial state of the teams, and more, will come with more than just theatrical put-downs, but also with evidence.

Happy Chanukah! Here's an Ask a Jew post, devoted to questions I've received about the holiday:

What is the proper spelling of the holiday? Why so many spellings? Does it matter?

This is the most popular question, it seems. "Chanukah" and "Hanukkah" seem to be the most common spellings, and the variations are based on the fact that it's a transliterated Hebrew word. There's absolutely no right or wrong spelling, so just go with whichever you prefer!

Can I have a brief rundown of what the holiday is about? How is the menorah a part of it?

Sure! Chanukah's primary theme -- as has been drilled into my head from kindergarten -- is that of "hidden miracles." (As opposed to big, flashy sea-splitting ones. For instance.) The story itself addresses the Jews being oppressed in ancient times by an evil Greek leader named Antiochus (I'm sorry, Greek friends! I love feta! I love c! I love YOU!), who forbade the practice of Judaism, pushed for complete assimilation, killed a lot of Jews, and took over their Temple. A rebellion by a Jewish resistance group named the Maccabees was successful, and they ultimately regained control of the Temple. At the time of the re-dedication of the Temple, the Jews were preparing to light the menorah, which required pure oil, however, there was only one small flask of pure oil, barely enough to even last one day. Through a HIDDEN MIRACLE, the tiny drop of oil stayed lit for eight days and nights. (Not unlike me in college, but that's a story for another day. Ah, memories. Of tequila.) We celebrate the successful revolt and the miracle of the oil on Chanukah by lighting menorahs of our own for eight nights (adding one additional candle each successive night).

Do you give gifts all eight days? Who do you give gifts to?

This varies from family to family, in terms of size and number of gifts, but it's generally kid-focused. (J and I got new knives and a new stockpot as our gift to ourselves. WE ARE EXCITING.) Growing up, my parents gave one small gift to each of us, each night (there were three of us; it adds up fast), like a Matchbox car, or new markers. Then on the eighth night, we'd get a big present (like a dollhouse in my case, or a trampoline for my brothers). We also always had a few annual family Chanukah parties, where we gave and received a bunch of gifts, too.

J and I do this, essentially, also. We get each of the kids one or two bigger gifts, and smaller things for the other nights. Again, we have family parties at which they -- the resident great-grandchildren, niece/nephew, grandchildren, etc. -- are spoiled beyond comprehension, and OH GOD WHERE SHALL I PUT THIS LITTLE MERMAID VANITY TABLE IN MY APARTMENT. SOMEONE HELP.

Bearing in mind the amazing surplus of gifts, something we've instituted at the end of Chanukah is that they each pick one gift each from their haul, and we go to a toy drop for kids in need. We do a toy cleanup, too, and give away the old stuff to make room for the new stuff, and (I hope) let them learn a little bit about being cognizant and appreciative for what they have, and helping other kids.

What is the significance of playing dreidel?

A dreidel is a small spinning top, and the key component of an eponymous game played on Chanukah. As mentioned above, Jewish practices were outlawed during the time of the Chanukah story, so in order to secretly carry on Jewish teachings, kids would get together to learn, and bring the dreidels with them. If a Greek officer came by, they'd whip out the dreidels and start playing,  pretending they'd been doing that the whole time. It has since been turned into a cute game that a lot of families play on Chanukah.

We have a laser dreidel that plays "Axel F," which is, I'm pretty sure, exactly what the Macabees were envisioning for the future when they were fighting for our right to continue as a people.




What is the percentage of families that almost set their hair on fire with the candles?


HIGH.


Minutes after J captured this Norman Rockwell-esque tableau last year, I -- no joke -- nearly singed the back of my head while turning around. It happens EVERY YEAR, at least a few times. To us, anyway. Well. Me.





Are there special foods/eating rules for Hanukkah, like there seem to be with some other Jewish holidays?

There are, thankfully, no eating rules, like on Passover, but there are most definitely special foods. In order to commemorate the miracle with the oil, we -- no joke -- eat stuff that's been fried in oil. O, HEAVENS. THIS RELIGION. SUCH HARDSHIP! THE TORTURE! Common "oil" foods include fried jelly-filled (or caramel cream-filled) donuts, and latkes (potato pancakes).

What is your latke recipe?

Here you go, adapted from Kosher By Design:

2 lbs. peeled potatoes (the recipe calls for Yukon gold or russet, but it work fine with regular potatoes)
1 medium onion, quartered
4 medium scallions
1 large egg
1.5 teaspoons salt
black pepper to taste
1 cup oil (recipe recommends peanut oiil; I used canola to no ill effects)

~NOTE: You really need a food processor for this recipe~

Grate potatoes in food processor, using that top...disc thing. Remove half of the grated potatoes to a large bowl. Remove top...disc thing, and replace with the fitted blade, the one that goes in the bottom and can sever your digits. Add the onions and scallions, and process until smooth.

Smoosh out any liquid that has gathered in the bowl of grated potatoes, and then add the smooth potato/scallion/onion mixture, and toss with the egg, salt and pepper until well blended.

Heat the oil in a large pan until hot, but not smoking. While it's heating up, line a tin/large plate with paper towels. Carefully add the mixture in heaping tablespoons to the pan, frying until golden, and then flipping until the other side is golden as well. Remove latkes to drain on paper towel-lined tin.

Enjoy!

 
How do we merge Christmas and Chanukah without offending anyone?Our family is mixed and everyone goes to FIL on Christmas morning. I'd like to incorporate something Chanukah-y but have absolutely no idea what would be appropriate.

Is it disrespectful to have a menorah in your home if you are not Jewish? 

These two questions are from different people, but are kind of related, so I will do my best to answer them together. Also: although I consider myself an Orthodox Jew, I tend to skew pretty modern in my views. With that in mind, let me attempt to answer these.

I hope (HOPE) I've given a basic overview of the basics of the holiday. In terms of the overarching respect issue, and how to incorporate the holiday, to me, it all depends on the dynamic in your family. Some families are rigid about not melding the two holidays, and some families have open, relaxed "Chrismukkah" get-togethers. Without knowing the details of your family, I would err wayyyyy on the side of caution, so as not to offend, but that's just me. My suggestion would be to -- rather than attempt to involve any tangible Chanukah objects, which might seem like an actual, physical imposition to someone who's not expecting it -- maybe see if you can talk about some of its messages, in a casual way. Perhaps something about standing up for what you believe is right, and the concept of small miracles. While they're Chanukah hallmarks, they're also universal themes, I think, and ones that I would hope wouldn't cause any stress/offense.

In terms of bringing a menorah into one's own home if they're not Jewish,  my feeling is this: the menorah isn't a sacred object, per se, and it's more of a symbol, embodying the aforementioned concepts of the holiday. If you like what the holiday (and thereby the menorah) represents, then do whatever makes you and your family happy and comfortable.

(Did I answer that stuff okay? OH GOD I HOPE SO. By all means, weigh in in the comments. I (and, I'm sure, the question-askers) would love to hear your experiences and thoughts.

Oh! And as always. let me give some form of my standard “Ask a Jew” disclaimer: I am not an expert in Judaism, nor do I claim to be perfect in my observance. This is my understanding and my interpretation. Yours may be different, and we can all learn something from each other and be right, in our own ways. In fact, I’d LOVE to hear if you know of a different explanation for anything I've addressed above, but please, please be courteous.  

Happy Holidays to all! 


Earlier Ask a Jew posts:

1. The Original (miscellaneous questions)
2. Ask a Jew: Episode 2 (more miscellaneous questions)
3. Ask a Jew Episode 3: Jewish Weddings (One of my favorite posts I've written. Am I allowed to say that?)
4. Ask a Jew 4: Sabbath edition
5. Ask a Jew 5: Totally Random Questions Edition
6. Ask a Jew: UNLEAVENED (Passover questions)
 

By Renoliz ~

The concept of Hell is what got me started on my journey out of Christendom. I could not bear the thought that God would be punishing people I knew, or even people I didn’t know, in eternal hell. It was tearing me up so I started doing some research. Ironically, it is this same concept of Hell that keeps many people from questioning their religious beliefs. Seeing the many comments and concerns voiced by visitors and contributors to exC, I thought it would be a good idea to revisit this topic myself.

Whenever I write a reply that refers people to one of my favorite website I use the disclaimer that it is a Christian website. And why wouldn’t it be? Only Christians would care about the concept of eternal hell and only Christians are worried about having a god that is roasting untold millions of people. Much of the world does not believe in Christianity and would have their own concerns.

Vast numbers of people live in fear of this place of imagined unending torments in which Satan rules an underworld filled with unbelievers in Christ. Eternal punishment. Forever and ever and ever. Yet all of this is nonsense. These are not interpretation of the Greek words of the Bible into English but rather theological overlays. Don't take my word for it. Let's look at what a few scholars have to say. This is by no means an exhaustive listing of the information available. So is “eternal hell” even in the Bible?

What of the word eternal?

Hebrew “olam” and Greek “aionios”. These are the two words that were erroneously translated into everlasting and eternal. These words do not have those meanings. They refer to “age” or “eon“. Those might be long periods of time but they are not eternity.

• "All the way through it is never feasible to understand 'aionios' (Greek word translated eternal, everlasting, and for ever in many English Bible translations.) as everlasting." Dr. Nigel Turner

• "'Olam (the Hebrew for aion) simply signifies for a long time. The Hebrew Scriptures do not contain any doctrine of everlasting punishment." Rabbi Loewe

What about hell?

• Concordant Publishing Concern is a well-known publisher of Bible literature, including the Concordant Literal New Testament, Concordant Version of the Old Testament, Concordant Greek Text, and Concordant Commentary. They make the point strongly that the English word "hell" should no longer be used in Bible texts because of the "corrupting influence of human tradition" that has given it the image of a place of torment where judged souls are condemned to spend eternity, an image that is simply untrue:

THE OLD ENGLISH “hell,” denoted that which is covered (hidden or unseen). Consequently, it once served as a suitable translation of the Greek Hades, which means “imperceptible” or unseen.” In modern English, however, due to the corrupting influence of human tradition, “hell” has come to mean “the abode of the dead; the place of punishment after death [in which the dead are alive].” Consequently, since in modern English the notion represented by the term “hell” constitutes, to say the least, interpretation, not translation, it is unconscionable for modern translators to render either the Hebrew sheol or the Greek Hades by this expression.

Yet it is worse still, whether in old English or modern English, to render the Greek tartarosas and especially the Greek geenna, also as “hell.” Such “translations” are not translations at all; they are but the product of circular reasoning and hoary tradition. Whatever one’s understanding may be concerning the matters to which these words make reference, as a translation of the Original, the rendering “hell,” in all cases, is wholly unjustifiable. . (James Coram, "The Gahanna of Fire," Concordant Publishing Concern, 2006)

The word hell does not appear in numerous editions of the Bible. For instance, the Young’s Literal Translation and the NAB [the New American Bible]. The other Bibles that have retained the use of the word hell have cut back on the number of times it is used. That would include the King James Version. Kind of like when an alcoholic “cuts back” on his drink of choice. He isn’t quite ready to give up drinking yet.

What of fire and brimstone?

Okay, so there is no eternal associated with divine punishment in the Bible nor is there the word hell. But doesn’t the lake of fire in Revelations prove that there is a hell?

• Charles Pridgeon and I [ J. Preston Elby] would like to quote from his scholarly work on the subject of BRIMSTONE. He says: "The Lake of Fire and Brimstone signifies a fire burning with brimstone; the word 'brimstone' or sulfur defines the character of the fire. The Greek word THEION translated 'brimstone' is exactly the same word THEION which means 'divine.' Sulfur was sacred to the deity among the ancient Greeks; and was used to fumigate, to purify, and to cleanse and consecrate to the deity; for this purpose they burned it in their incense. In Homer's Iliad (16:228), one is spoken of as purifying a goblet with fire and brimstone. The verb derived from THEION is THEIOO, which means to hallow, to make divine, or to dedicate to a god (See Liddell and Scott Greek-English Lexicon, 1897 Edition). To any Greek, or any trained in the Greek language, a 'lake of fire and brimstone' would mean a 'lake of divine purification.' J. Preston Eby http://www.tentmaker.org/books/TheLakeOfFire-Eby.html

So add it up. The Bible actually says that God will judge in a given period of time for the purification and divine consecration of people. Wow! Where did the eternal torture chamber go? For surely it does not exist in this statement.

I could go on with this line of thinking but truly the concept of an eternal hell in which people are endlessly tortured is not originally a concept that the Jews nor early Christians [who were Jews, hello] "believed in".

Over time, the multicultural influences of other religions were incorporated into the Bible and Christian belief. But it is the medieval Christians, perhaps 1,000 years after Christ is said to have lived and died that perfected the belief in hell. And ever since then the depictions of hell have grown ever more graphic.

The concept of an eternal hell in which people are endlessly tortured is not originally a concept that the Jews nor early Christians [who were Jews, hello] "believed in". So how did we get to the hell being preached today? One reason is the drama of theater. Church was often just about the only entertainment available. Surely there is the control aspect. If your priest or preacher tells you about hell and then saves you from it [all the while humbly proclaiming to only be doing god's work] then you owe him, don't you? There is the very human need to embellish. Some people like that god chose to save them from eternal hell and that makes them extra special Perhaps the saddest reasons is that those who are brainwashed into this mindset then go on to brainwash others, never giving any thought to whether or not hell might be a false concept.

I think there is one more reason hell has been elevated to above and beyond the pale of decency. The clergy can no longer force you to come to church by placing you in stocks or torturing you to turn to their version of Jesus. So, they have perfected mental anguish and torment.

Use your own discernment and not the judgment of others when it comes to deciding whether or not there is an eternal hell. I certainly do not believe that this concept is contained in the Bible. Judgment and punishment, yes. But being damned to hell eternally. It just isn't there. So let it go.

I got over my belief in hell before I left the Christian faith but I did not get over my fear of hell until I did leave the Christian faith. I had to keep using my reasoning to over ride my fears. It took a bit of time but I no longer have panic attacks or nightmares. There is no eternal hell and I will not be punished forever and ever. As one of our finest has said “ And if you are worried about the consequences of a mistake, of hell for instance, just remember that fine old quotation which we all prove day after day after day, “To err is human. . .” (Alexander Pope – poet). If there is a god, then he is surely aware of this, and cannot reasonably fault you for being . . . human. Wizened Sage [aka Galen Rose]

For those who would give up their faith if it were not for eternal hell there should be nothing holding you back now. Do not let other people think for you. Do your own thinking, whatever your religion or lack of religious beliefs. Maybe next time we can explore the morality of an eternal hell. Or delve deeper into the mistranslations of the Bible and why they are not corrected by truth loving Christians. Or why the use of eternal hell elevates Christianity to the level of destructive cult. Or why hell concept is bad for children.

Like his predecessors, the education secretary must fiddle. Yet his list will mean just as little for life beyond the school gate

Nothing appeals to a politician so much as the chance to rewrite a curriculum. He would not dare operate on a brain tumour or land a jumbo jet or design the Forth Bridge. But let him near a classroom, and the Jupiter complex takes over. He goes berserk. Any fool can teach, and the existing fools are no good at it. Napoleon might lose the battle of Waterloo, but he reformed the French curriculum.

Michael Gove is emerging as the Napoleon of David Cameron's team. He oozes brilliance, self-confidence and a dreadful Blairite initiativitis. In the Commons on Wednesday he fulsomely praised the Labour minister he most admires, David Blunkett, whose 375 school regulations and 3,840 pages of instructions remain a legend in bureaucratic history. Blunkett's initiatives by the barrow-load will be matched by Gove's by the shed-load. By the end of Gove's time in office English schools will have seen more initiatives, reorganisations and bumf than even under New Labour.

We have had measures for "free" schools for middle-class parents, new powers to contain disruptive pupils, and more curbs on the hated local councils. There are now measures for reordering teacher training, ousting truants, blessing "outstanding" schools and persecuting failing ones. We have measures to bring the barrack room to the classroom with "soldier teachers", and plans to draw up ever more complex league tables. Every child must wear a blazer and tie, and doubtless sing daily psalms to the Dear Leader.

The Leninist Gove now feels "it is time for central government to play a role", as if no one had done that before. He wants "all schools [to] meet a target of 35% GCSE A to C passes in five core subjects", and will award those Stakhanovites who achieve the norm with something called an English baccalaureate, surely an oxymoron. Finally, and most portentous of all, Gove claims to have discovered a new "strategic subject" for the curriculum, called "a humanity".

When Lord Baker first ventured into syllabus centrism in the late 1980s he parroted the conventional wisdom that children needed to be taught something obscurantist and "difficult" – and preferably useless – because it would reflect pedagogical aloofness and be "good for them". For decades, Latin grammar had been the curricular equivalent of a thwack across the buttocks. Teachers would declare that they "trained the mind". The effect was to make Latin fanatically unpopular.

Baker replaced Latin with something equally unpopular and useless to most pupils – maths and science – demanding that they take up a full two-thirds of his "core curriculum". Since pupils refused point blank to learn Latin verbs, they should at least have the square of the hypotenuse beaten into them.

Maths and science duly entered the Tory soul as icons of conservative discipline and core values. They became the new religion, with top-up salaries for their priests. Baker professed to find them vital for the national economy and, if not, then at least difficult and mind-training. No one could know whether an inner city comprehensive might harbour a future Stephen Hawking. Where would we be if we had failed to teach all children quadrilateral equations on the offchance?

The doublethink was total. Vocational advantage was declared for algebra and the periodic table, but curiously not to the social sciences or the arts. History and geography became optional. Law, economics, art and sport became extinct or extracurricular. For 20 years maths and science in schools suffered the same sort of decline that had previously afflicted Latin and Greek. As soon as they reached the sixth form and a voluntary syllabus, pupils fled in relief to art history, information technology and media studies.

Gove's updating of the Baker list offers a snapshot of curricular correctness at the turn of the 21st century. It marries old maths and science to the new desperation for a language, for some reason "modern or ancient", which again few English children want or need to learn. Gove has also added "a humanity" which, with English, another language, maths and science, will determine his new school league tables – inevitably to the exclusion of all else.

What is this humanity, and how does it relate to "the humanities", which Gove wants to demote, if not wipe out, in higher education? The relevant minister, Vince Cable, is slashing grants to humanities teaching just when Gove is breeding thousands more "humanitarians" in schools. But the term itself is unclear.

By a humanity Gove apparently means either history or geography which, like Baker in the 1980s, he regards as interchangeable options and not individually compulsory. They are way below maths and science. But how can any concept of humanity omit either history or geography, subjects that link inextricably the great saga of the earth and mankind's occupation of it?

There could hardly be two topics more likely to engage the minds of the young than the planet's climate and natural resources (geography), together with the story of its nations and peoples (history). No proper education could regard either as optional. No less important are subjects that appear nowhere in Gove's list, such as current affairs and Britain's route out of financial disaster (politics and economics), or the relationship between personal rights and duties (the law and civics), or bodily wellbeing (health and sport), or the nature of crime and punishment (ethics) or religious faith (philosophy).

What good is a quadrilateral equation to those ignorant of a demand curve or a civil right? The domination of the school curriculum by a previous academic generation is absurd. University courses are now far more up to date than schools', whose teachers are like generals preparing for the last war but one.

The Gove list confuses what is vocational with what is "educational". It is not clear why the highly "vocational" study of geometry, chemistry or physics should be acceptable, but law, economics and politics not. The only offence committed by these subjects is to be relatively accessible, modern and helpful in finding work, and to reflect life beyond the school gate.

Gove is right to emphasise English grammar and spelling – TS Eliot's "intolerable wrestle with words and meanings" – and to open a window on the human mind that is the empire of English literature. But his primacy for maths and science is a prejudice that will continue to turn millions away from such specialist subjects, which would be more popular were they not compulsory. Witness the extraordinary rise in classical studies since their ostracism by Baker.

The truth is that the entire curriculum is juju. Nobody knows its purpose. It is a miasma of archaism, bogus assumption, bland assertion and inertia. Nobody assesses what is a sensible way of spending a day, week or term. Nobody thrashes out the appropriate balance of vocational and educational, preferring to leave politicians to decide on the basis of "what was good enough for me". Almost everything taught to children is forgotten. The waste of money, time and talent must be stupendous. Yet we sail happily on, gazing over the stern and marvelling at the wake trailing behind.

• This article was amended at 21:02 on 25 November 2010. Education is a devolved matter in the UK, but the original referred to "British schools" being affected by Michael Gove's policies. This has now been corrected

From forthcoming book Believing Bullshit. Warning: this excerpt is 7,400 words.

When someone’s claim is challenged, and they find themselves struggling to come up with a rational reply, they will often say resort to saying, “Look, I just know!”

How reasonable a response is “I just know”? It depends. Sometimes, by “I just know”, people mean you should just take their word for it, perhaps because time is short and the evidence supporting their belief too complex to present in a convenient sound-bite.

Suppose, for example, I’m asked how I know Tom can be trusted to pay back the five dollars you just lent him. I could spend five minutes rehearsing several bits of evidence that would, together, show my claim was reasonable, but that would take time and effort. So, instead I say, “Look, I just know, okay!” To which I might add, “Take my word for it!” And, if you know me to be a pretty good judge of character, you’ll probably be justified in doing so.

Another situation in which it might be appropriate for me to say “I just know” is to flag up that, rather than coming to a belief on the basis of evidence, I can, say, just see, clearly and directly, that such-and-such is the case.

Suppose I’m looking out the window and see our good friend Frank. You’re convinced Frank is away on vacation, so you ask me I’m sure. I might say, “Look, I just know it’s Frank”. What I’m trying to convey is that I can see, very clearly, that it really is Frank. I’m not just hazarding a guess that it’s Frank on the basis of some passing resemblance (the shape of the back of his head, say). Again, knowing me to be a reliable witness, you would probably be justified in taking my word for it.

So saying “I just know” isn’t always an inappropriate thing to say in response to requests for supporting evidence. But then suppose I am asked how I know that God exists, or whether crystals really can cure people. Why can’t it be appropriate and reasonable for me to say, “Look, I just know!” in such situations too?

Maybe, just as I might directly experience Frank walking down the path to my front door, so I might directly experience God. I might just see, as it were, very clearly, that God really does exist. And if it’s reasonable for you to take my word about Frank, then why isn’t reasonable for you take my word about God?

Or, if I have a wealth of evidence that crystals really do have miraculous healing properties, but it would take considerable effort to organize it into a cogent argument – effort I can’t reasonably be expected to make under the circumstances – why isn’t it appropriate for me to say, “Look I just know crystals have these powers”? And if it’s reasonable for you to take my word for it about Tom’s trustworthiness, why not about the healing power of crystals?

We can now begin to see why saying “I just know!” offers those who believe conspiracy theories, wacky religious claims, psychic powers, and so on a potential a “get out of jail free” card. Suppose you find your belief in such things running up against a stiff challenge. Say, “Look, I just know, okay” and you may succeed in putting your critic on the back foot. Make them feel that the onus is now very much on them to demonstrate that you don’t “just know”. Then make quick your escape, head held high, continuing to maintain the superior wisdom that they have failed to show you don’t have.

In this chapter we will be taking a closer look at this sort of appeal to “I just know” to befuddle critics and shut down debate.

When saying “I just know” won’t do

While “Look, I just know” is sometimes an appropriate thing to say in response to a challenge to your belief, often, it isn’t.

Note, first of all, while there are circumstances in which it might be unreasonable to expect someone to set out the evidence supporting their claim, there are other circumstances in which this excuse won’t wash. If someone is writing a book on a subject, a book in which they have ample time and space available to properly set out their evidence, it obviously won’t do for them to say, “Look, I just know.”

The same is true of important political debates. Politicians are rightly expected to set out their case for raising taxes or invading another country clearly and in detail. Short of their decision being based on, say, top-secret information regarding national security, they have no legitimate excuse for not doing so.

“I just know” is an expression that also crops up at the race track. Suppose Jane puts her money on a horse, and says “I just know it’s going to win.” She says this even though the evidence – the betting odds and so on – suggest it probably won’t win. Even if Jane’s horse does happen to win, we’ll usually be inclined to think that not only did Jane not “just know”, it wasn’t reasonable for her to suppose she did.

Deciding “with your gut”

We all go with our gut, intuition, or instinct on occasion. Sometimes it’s unavoidable. Suppose I don’t know whether I should employ someone. The evidence concerning their reliability is somewhat mixed. I’ve received some very positive reports, but also some negative ones. I need to make a snap decision. Under such circumstances, I may just have to go with my gut. It’s that or toss a coin.

It’s been suggested that our gut feelings can be insightful. Police officers often have to make rapid decisions about, say, who is most likely to be armed in a rapidly unfolding and dangerous situation. There’s no time to assess the evidence properly. Officers often just have to go with their instincts. But their instincts are, it’s claimed, surprisingly accurate. They make fairly reliable judgements, despite not engaging in any conscious deliberation or evidence-weighing at all.

So there’s not necessarily anything wrong with going with your gut in certain situations. However, none of this is to say that it’s sensible to go with your gut feeling when you don’t need to, because, say, there’s ample and decisive evidence available. We are also ill-advised to trust the instincts of someone whose particular gut has a poor track record, or to trust our own gut feelings in areas where we know that gut feeling has proved to be unreliable.

Bush’s gut

Notoriously, during George W. Bush’s presidency, Bush’s gut became the oracle of the State. Bush was distrustful of book learning and those with established expertise in a given area. When Bush made the decision to invade Iraq, and was subsequently confronted by a skeptical audience, Bush said that ultimately, he just knew in his gut that invading was the right thing to do. As writer Rich Procter noted prior to the invasion:

Now we're preparing to invade a country in the middle of the most volatile "powder-keg" region on earth. We're going to toss out our history of using military force only when provoked. We're going to launch a "pre-emptive" invasion that violates two hundred-plus years of American history and culture. We're on the verge of becoming a fundamentally different kind of nation - an aggressive, "go-it-alone" rogue state - based on Bush's gut…

The invasion went ahead. A few months later, Senator Joe Biden told Bush of his growing worries about the aftermath. In response, Bush again appealed to the reliability of his “instincts”, as Ron Suskind here reports:

''I was in the Oval Office a few months after we swept into Baghdad,'' [Biden] began, ''and I was telling the president of my many concerns'' - concerns about growing problems winning the peace, the explosive mix of Shiite and Sunni, the disbanding of the Iraqi Army and problems securing the oil fields. Bush, Biden recalled, just looked at him, unflappably sure that the United States was on the right course and that all was well. '''Mr. President,' I finally said, 'How can you be so sure when you know you don't know the facts?''' Biden said that Bush stood up and put his hand on the senator's shoulder. ''My instincts,'' he said. ''My instincts.'' …The Delaware senator was, in fact, hearing what Bush's top deputies - from cabinet members like Paul O'Neill, Christine Todd Whitman and Colin Powell to generals fighting in Iraq - have been told for years when they requested explanations for many of the president's decisions, policies that often seemed to collide with accepted facts. The president would say that he relied on his ''gut'' or his ''instinct'' to guide the ship of state…

How did Bush suppose his gut was able to steer the ship of state? He supposed it was functioning as a sort of God-sensing faculty. Bush believed that by means of his gut he could sense what God wanted of him. But how reasonable was it for Bush, or anyone else, to trust what his gut was telling him?

What is knowledge?

Interestingly, a theory of knowledge developed over the last half century or so would seem to have the consequence that it is at least in principle possible (notice I don’t say likely) that some psychics, religious gurus and so on might “just know” things by means of some sort of psychic or divinely-given sense. They might “just know” these things even if they don’t have any evidence to support what they believe. In which case, perhaps Bush might “just know” what God wants of him by means of his gut? Let’s make a short detour of a few pages into contemporary theory of knowledge to look more closely at these ideas.

What is knowledge? Under what circumstances can someone correctly be described as knowing that so-and-so? The classic definition of knowledge comes from the Ancient Greek philosopher Plato, who thought that, in order to know that so-and-so, three conditions must be satisfied:

First, the person in question must believe that so-and-so. In order to know that, say, the battle of Hastings was in 1066, or that there is a pen on my desk, I must believe it.

Second, the belief must be true. I can’t know what isn’t true. If there’s no pen on my desk, then I cannot know that there is (though of course I might still believe it).

Thirdly, Plato thought that, in order to know that so-and-so, I need to be justified in believing that so-and-so. In order to know that the battle of Hastings was in 1066, or that there’s a pen on my desk, I need to be justified in believing these things.

Up until the mid-Twentieth century, this account of knowledge was widely accepted.

The third condition needs a little explanation, perhaps. Justification can take various forms. Perhaps the most obvious way in which you might be justified in believing something is if you have good evidence that what you believe is true. Incidentally, those who sign up to this definition of knowledge don’t normally mean that your justification must guarantee the truth of your belief. They typically allow that you can be justified in believing something even if you are mistaken. For example, surely you are justified in supposing that John is an expert on chemistry after him having shown you round a chemistry laboratory and seen various credentials hanging on his study wall, even though it still remains possible (if unlikely) that John is a con-man and you are the victim of some elaborate, Mission Impossible type fraud.

Evidentialism

Let’s now quickly turn to a well-known claim about evidence made by the philosopher W.K. Clifford. Clifford claimed that


it is wrong, always and everywhere, to believe anything on insufficient evidence.

People who believe despite not possessing good evidence that their belief is true are being downright irresponsible, thought Clifford. This quotation is often used to condemn those who believe in such things as the Loch Ness monster, angels, fairies and even God. Such beliefs, it is suggested, are not well-supported by the evidence. So it is wrong for people to believe them.

The idea that it is, at the very least, unwise to accept claims for which we possess little or no supporting evidence is certainly widespread. Richard Dawkins, for example, writes:

Next time somebody tells you something that sounds important, think to yourself: ‘Is this the kind of thing that people probably know because of evidence? Or is it the kind of thing that people only believe because of tradition, authority or revelation?’ And next time somebody tells you that something is true, why not say to them: ‘What kind of evidence is there for that?’ And if they can’t give you a good answer, I hope you’ll think very carefully before you believe a word they say.

Let’s call the view that we ought not to accept any belief not well-supported by evidence evidentialism. Is evidentialism true?

Probably not. Evidentialism faces some obvious difficulties. Perhaps the most glaring is this. Suppose I believe some claim A because I suppose I have supporting evidence B. But now ought I to believe that evidence B obtains? If evidentialism is true, it seems I ought to believe B obtains only if I posses, in turn, evidence for that – C, say. But then I should believe that C obtains only if there is, in turn, evidence for that, and so on ad infinitum. Evidentialism seems to entail that, before I adopt any belief, I must first acquire evidence to support an infinite number of beliefs – which, as a finite being, I can’t do. In short, Clifford’s injunction that I ought not to believe anything on the basis of insufficient evidence appears to have the disastrous consequence that I ought not to believe anything at all!

A problem for Plato’s theory

Let’s now return for a moment to Plato’s theory that knowledge is justified true belief. It is widely supposed that Plato’s theory runs into a similar problem. The theory says that, in order to know that so-and-so, my belief must be justified. But if my justification is supplied by another belief of mine, then, presumably, I am only justified in believing the first belief if I am justified in believing the second. But then the second belief will require a third belief to justify it, and so on ad infinitum. So, in order to justify even one belief I will have to justify an infinite number. Being a finite being, I cannot justify an infinite series of beliefs. It seems, then, that I cannot justify any belief, and thus cannot know anything at all!

How do we escape from this conclusion? The theory of knowledge known as reliabilism provides one solution.

Reliabilism

Here is a simple reliabilist theory of knowledge. In order for person a to know that P,

(i) P must be true
(ii) a must believe that P
(iii) A’s belief that P must be brought about by the fact that P via a reliable mechanism

You will notice that the first two conditions are the same as for Plato’s definition of knowledge. But the third is different, and requires a little explanation.

What’s meant by a “reliable mechanism”? A reliable mechanism is a mechanism that tends to produce true beliefs. My sense of sight is a fairly reliable belief-producing mechanism. It allows my beliefs fairly reliably to track how things are in my environment.

Suppose, for example, someone puts an orange on the table in front of me. Light bounces off the orange into me eyes, which in turn causes certain cells to fire in my retina, which causes a pattern of electrical impulses to pass down my optic nerves into my brain, eventually bringing it about that I believe there’s an orange before me. Remove the orange and that will in turn cause me, by means of the same mechanism, to believe the orange has gone.

The same goes for my other senses – they are fairly reliable belief-producing mechanisms. Blindfold me and put me in a crowded street and my ears, nose will, in response to the sound of car horns and the odour of hot dogs, cause me to believe I am in a crowded street. Move me to a fragrant garden filled with singing birds and those same senses will cause me to believe I am in such a garden. My senses of sight, touch, smell, hearing and taste cause me to hold beliefs that tend accurately to reflect how things actually are around me.

I don’t say our senses are one hundred percent reliable, of course. Sometimes we get things wrong. They are occasionally prone to illusion. But they are fairly reliable.

Let’s now apply our reliabilist definition of knowledge. Suppose someone puts an orange on the table in front of me. I look at the orange, and so come to believe there’s an orange there. Do I know there’s an orange on the table?

According to our reliabilist, I do. The simple reliabilist theory says that if (i) it’s true that there’s an orange there, (ii) I believe there’s an orange there, and (iii) my belief is produced via a reliable mechanism, e.g. sight, by the presence of an orange there, then I know there’s an orange there.

Now here is an interesting twist to this theory – a twist that will prove relevant to our discussion of psychic powers and George Bush’s gut. Notice, that, according to reliablism, in order to know there’s an orange on the table, I need not infer there’s an orange there. I need not arrive at my belief on the basis of good grounds or evidence. No evidence is required. All that’s required is that I hold the belief and that it be produced in the right sort of way – by a reliable mechanism.

Also notice that if, by saying that a belief is “justified”, we mean we have good grounds for believing it, then reliabilism says that we can know without justification. In which case, the regress problem with Plato’s theory that knowledge is justified true belief is also sidestepped by reliabilism.

Reliabilism and psychic powers

Many contemporary philosophers accept some form of reliabilism (though they have developed it in various ways). You can now see why reliabilism might also appeal to, say, a psychic who believes she “just knows” things about the dead.

Suppose a psychic (notice that by “psychic” I mean someone who is supposed to have psychic powers, whether or not they actually do) – call her Mary – finds herself believing that her dead Aunt Sarah is currently in the room with her. Also suppose, for the sake of argument, that Mary really does have some sort of reliable psychic sense, that dead Aunt Sarah really is in the room with Mary, and that Mary’s psychic sense is what is causing Mary to believe Aunt Sarah is present. Then, says our reliabilist theory, Mary knows that Aunt Sarah is in the room with her.

Notice that Mary doesn’t infer that Aunt Sarah is present on the basis of evidence. Mary just finds herself stuck with that belief that Aunt Sarah is present, caused as it is by her reliable psychic sense. Yet, says our reliabilist, despite the fact that Mary doesn’t possess any evidence that Aunt Sarah is present, Mary knows Aunt Sarah is there. In fact, were Mary to claim that she “just knows” that Mary is in the room with her right now, she’d be right!

Of course, that they do “just know” such things despite not having any publicly available evidence is a claim psychics make on a daily basis. So, while few psychics will have heard of reliabilism, reliabilism nevertheless opens up at least the possibility that these psychics are actually correct – they do know, despite not possessing any evidence.

“But hang on” you may object. “Even if reliabilism is correct and Mary does know her dead Aunt is in the room with her, that is not something she ought to believe. The fact is, Mary is being downright irresponsible in just accepting at face value this belief that happens to have popped into her head. Clifford is still correct – she shouldn’t believe it. It’s still unwise for her to believe it.”

In her own defence, a Mary might appeal to a further principle. Surely, Mary may insist, If something seems very clearly and obviously to be the case, then, other things being equal, it’s reasonable to believe it’s true. It’s reasonable to take appearance at face value. For example, if it seems clear and obvious to me that there’s on orange on the table before me, then surely it’s reasonable for me to believe there’s an orange there.

This principle does seem intuitively plausible. And it entails that, if it seems just clearly and obviously true to Mary that her dead Aunt is in the room with her, then, other things being equal, it is reasonable for Mary to hold that belief. Whether or not she can provide any publicly available evidence.

Reliabilism and religious experience

Let’s now return to George Bush’s gut. Bush believes he can directly know, by means of his gut, what God wants him to do.

Many people believe that they “just know” directly, rather than on the basis of evidence, that God exists and that, say, the Bible is true. Ask them why they believe, and they may give reasons and justifications of one sort or another. But typically, even if such grounds are provided, not much weight is placed on them. Most Theists will say that they don’t believe on the basis of evidence. Rather, they “just know” God exists. They believe they directly experience God, perhaps in something like the way I just directly experience that orange on the table in front of me. To them, it seems perfectly clear and obvious that God exists.

Reliabilism seems to open up the possibility that some people might, indeed, “just know” that God exists. Suppose God has provided us with a sort of sensus divinitatis – a reliable, God-sensing faculty (in Bush’s case, that would be his gut). On the reliabilist view, it seems that a sensus diviniatis could provide such knowledge.

Moreover, a religious person might add, just as, if it seems clearly and obviously true to me that there’s an orange on the table, then it is reasonable for me to suppose there’s an orange there, so if it seems clearly and obviously true to someone that God exists, then it’s reasonable for them to believe God exists. There’s certainly nothing wrong, or irresponsible, about them taking their experience at face value.

This view about religious experience has been developed by several contemporary Christian philosophers, chief among whom is Alvin Plantinga. Plantinga’s version is detailed, but the gist is essentially this, that something like reliabilism is essentially correct, that God has indeed given everyone of us a God-sensing faculty or sensus divinitatis, and that consequently, some of us can know, directly and without evidence, that God exists. Indeed, that God exists is an entirely reasonable thing for such people to believe if that’s very much how things clearly and obviously seem to them even after careful reflection.

Plantinga adds that, if there is a God, he probably would want us to know of his existence directly by means of such a reliable God-sensing faculty. So, if there is a God, then some of us probably do know by such means that God exists.

You may be wondering: “But if we all have a sensus divinitatis, as Plantinga supposes, why don’t we all enjoy such clear and unambiguous God experiences?” Because, Plantinga explains, in many cases our sensus divinitatis has been damaged by sin:

Were it not for sin and its effects, God’s presence and glory would be as obvious and uncontroversial to us all as the presence of other minds, physical objects and the past. Like any cognitive process, however, the sensus divinitatis can malfunction; as a result of sin, it has been damaged.

The reason I don’t have such God experiences, then, is because my sensus divinitatis has been damaged by sin. Obviously, it doesn’t follow that, if I don’t have such experiences, then others aren’t, by means of them, able to know that God exists. To draw that conclusion would be analogous to me, having poked my eyes out and so blinded myself to the orange on the table in front of me, defiantly claiming, “I don’t see any orange on the table, so – even if there is– you certainly don’t know there’s any orange there!”

Assessing psychic and religious claims to “just know”

We have seen how the reliabilist theory of knowledge seems to open up the possibility that some people might “just know” that their dead relative is in the room with them, or “just know” that God exists. We have also seen that evidentialism has been challenged, and that, according to Plantinga and others, it can be entirely reasonable for people to take their religious experiences at face value. If it seems just clearly and obviously true to them that God exists, then it can entirely reasonable for them to believe God exists, whether or not they possess any evidence. Psychics might say much the same thing about their psychic experiences. Let’s now begin to assess these various claims.

Let me say at the outset that I find reliabilism plausible. I suspect that some version of reliabilism may well be correct. Let me also be clear that I do not rule out in principle the possibility that some people might be equipped with reliable psychic powers, or a sensus divinitatis, or whatever.

I also agree that evidentialism is probably false, and that, generally speaking, it is indeed reasonable for us to take appearances at face value. If it seems just clearly and obviously the case that there’s an orange on the table in front of me, well then, other things being equal, it’s reasonable for me to believe there’s an orange on the table in front of me.

However, I remain entirely unconvinced that anyone who claims to “just know” that the dead walk among us, or that God exists, knows any such thing. Not only do I think the rest of us have good grounds for doubting their experience, I don’t believe it’s reasonable for them to take their own experience at face value either. I’ll explain why by means of what I call the case of the mad, fruit-fixated brain scientist.

The case of the mad, fruit-fixated brain scientist

Suppose Jane is shown what appears, quite clearly and obviously, to be an orange on the table in front of her. Surely then, it is, other things being equal, reasonable for Jane to believe there’s an orange there.

But now suppose the orange is presented to Jane in a rather unusual situation. Jane is one of several visitors to the laboratory of a mad brain scientist with a weird fruit fixation. She, like the other visitors, is wearing an electronic helmet that can influence what happens in her brain. From his central computer terminal, the mad brain scientist can, by means of these helmets, control what people are experiencing. He can create vivid and convincing hallucinations.

The scientist demonstrates by causing one of the visitors to hallucinate an apple. There’s much hilarity as the victim tries to grab for the fruit that’s not there. The visitors are then invited to wander round the lab where, the scientist tells them, they may experience several other virtual fruit. Jane then comes across what appears to be an orange on a table. Now, as a matter of fact, it is a real orange – one that fell out of someone’s packed lunch bag. Jane’s faculty of sight is functioning normally and reliably. This is no hallucination.

Now ask yourself two questions: (i) does Jane know there’s an orange on the table? And (ii) is it reasonable for Jane to suppose there’s an orange on the table?

Intuitively, it seems Jane doesn’t know there’s an orange present. After all, for all Jane knows, it could be one of the many hallucinatory fruit she knows about. But what would a reliabilist say? Well, sight is generally a reliable belief producing mechanism, and sight is what’s producing her belief. So some reliabilists may say that, yes, Jane does know. On the other hand, very many reliabilists say that, while in a standard environment, sight is reliable, it isn’t reliable in other kinds of environment, e.g. the kind of environment in which we will often as not be deceived by visual hallucinations. But then it follows that, because she is in just such an environment, Jane doesn’t know.

Now let’s turn to question (ii), which is the pivotal question: is it reasonable for Jane to believe there’s an orange before her?

Surely not. Given Jane knows that she is in an environment (the mad brain scientist’s laboratory) in which people regularly have compelling fruit hallucinations (indistinguishable from real fruit experiences), Jane should remain rather skeptical about her own fruit experience. For all she can tell, she’s probably having a mad-scientist-induced fruit hallucination.

I draw two morals for religious experience:

First of all, even if reliabilism is true, and even if some of us do have God-experiences produced by a sensus divinitatis, it remains debatable whether such people know that God exists. If human beings are highly prone to delusional religious experiences that they nevertheless find entirely convincing, then, even if, as a matter of fact, I happen to be having a wholly accurate religious experience revealing that, say, the Judeo-Christian God exists, it’s by no means clear I can be said to know the Judeo-Christian God exists, any more than Jane, coming upon a real orange in the brain scientist’s lab, can be said to know that there’s an orange on the table in front of her.

Second, and more importantly, even if it’s true, because of my religious experience, that I do know that the Judeo-Christian God exists, surely it still isn’t reasonable for me to take my experience at face value. For I find myself in a situation much like Jane finds herself in the brain scientist’s lab. Even though it looks to Jane clearly and obviously to be true that there’s an orange on the table in front of her, Jane should, surely, remain pretty skeptical about whether there’s actually an orange there, given that, for all she knows, she might very easily be having one of the many delusional fruit experiences currently being generated in the lab. Jane would be foolish to take appearance at face value. Similarly, if I have good evidence that many religious experiences are delusional – even the most compelling examples – then surely I should be equally skeptical about my own religious experiences, no matter how compelling those experiences might be. I would be foolish for me to take my experiences at face value.

A similar morals might be drawn about psychic experiences. If most – including even the most compelling examples – are delusional, then it’s debatable whether the psychic can be said to know. However, even if the psychic can be said to know, if they’re aware that many such experiences are delusional, then it surely isn’t reasonable for such a person to take their experience at face value. They would be foolish to do so.

The dubious nature of religious experience

The above argument presupposes that there is good evidence that most psychic and religious experiences are delusional – even the most compelling examples. Which of course there is. Let’s focus on religious experience. We know that:

(i) Religious experiences tend to be culturally specific. Christians experience the guiding hand of Jesus, while Muslims experience Allah. Just like experiences of alien abduction (reports of alien abduction pretty much stop at certain national borders), the character of religious experiences often changes at national borders. In Catholic countries, the Virgin Mary is often seen, but not over the border in a predominantly Muslim country. This strongly suggests that to a significant degree religious experiences are shaped by our cultural expectations – by the power of suggestion (see Piling Up The Anecdotes). And once we know that a large part of what is experienced is a result of the power of suggestion, we immediately have grounds for being somewhat suspicious about what remains.

(ii) Religious experiences often contradict each other. George W. Bush’s gut told him God wanted war with Iraq. However, the religious antenna of other believers – including other Christians – tell them God wanted peace. Some religious people claim to know by virtue of a revelatory experience that Christ is divine and was resurrected. Muslims, relying instead on the religious revelations of the prophet Mohammad, deny this. Religious experience reveals that some Gods are cruel and vengeful, some even requiring the blood of children (The Mayan and Aztec gods, for example), while others are loving and kind. The religious experiences of some Buddhists reveal there’s no personal God, whereas those of many Christians Jews and Muslims reveal that there is but one personal God. Other religions have a pantheon of Gods. Take a step back and look at the sweep of human history, and you find an extraordinary range of such experiences. Religious revelation has produced a vast hodge-podge of contradictory claims, many of which must, therefore, be false. Even those who believe they have had things directly revealed to them by God must acknowledge that a great many equally-convinced people are deluded about what has supposedly been revealed to them.

There are similar reasons for supposing the bulk of psychic experiences are also delusional. What is revealed to psychics is often wrong, often contradicted by what other psychics claim, and so on.

For these reasons, then, it’s not reasonable for me to take my psychic or religious experience at face value – not even if it’s very vivid and convincing. It might be genuinely revelatory. But, under the circumstances, it would be rather foolish of me to assume that it is. Those who, like George W. Bush, place a simple trusting faith in their gut, or wherever else they think their sensus divinitatis is located, are being irresponsible and foolish.

Notice that it would be particularly foolhardy for, say, someone who believes in an all-powerful, all-knowing and all-good God, but who is confronted with the evidential problem of evil, to sweep the problem to one side, saying, “But look, I just know in my heart [or gut, or wherever] that my God exists!” While it might remain a theoretical possibility that they do “just know”, it’s certainly not reasonable for them to maintain this – not if they have been presented with both (i) good evidence that many such experiences are delusional, and (ii) powerful empirical evidence that what they believe is false. To insist one “just knows” under these circumstances is very unreasonable indeed.

The common core of religious experience – “ineffable transcendence”?

Some will say that it is unfair to lump all religious experiences together. There is a certain kind of experience - the sort enjoyed by the mystics of many different religions down through the centuries - that is essentially the same. What is this experiential common denominator? According to Karen Armstrong, it is an experience of “indescribable transcendence”. As we saw in Moving The Goalposts, Armstrong’s view is that “God” is merely a symbol for this transcendence. Once we strip away the cultural artifacts peculiar to the different mainstream religions, we find they all have this common, experiential core.

According to Armstrong, such experiences of indescribable transcendence typically don’t just happen. Usually, they emerge only after subjects have committed themselves over an extended period of time to a particular sort of lifestyle – a religious lifestyle. Religion, on Armstrong’s way of thinking, is not a body of doctrine (how could it be, if that towards which religion is orientated is ineffable?) but an activity: the kind of activity that produces experiences of this sort. Religion, says Armstrong, is

a practical discipline, and its insights are not derived from abstract speculation but from spiritual exercises and a dedicated lifestyle.

By engaging in certain religious practices and forms of life, maintains Armstrong, people can come to live “on a higher, divine or godlike plane and thus wake up their true selves.”

Some noteworthy features of religious practice

Suppose, then, that having immersed themselves in such a lifestyle, someone claims to “just know” that there is indeed such an ineffable transcendence? Is it reasonable for us, or for them, to suppose they’ve achieved awareness of Armstrong’s “sacred reality”?

I don’t believe so. As Armstrong acknowledges, religious practice takes many forms involving a variety of activities. An interesting feature of many of these activities is that we know they can induce interesting – sometimes rather beneficial – psychological states, even outside of a religious setting. Let’s look at some examples:

Meditation and prayer. Consider meditation. It has proven effects on both our psychology and physiology. It can reduce stress, lower blood pressure and induce feelings of calm and contentment. Even atheists meditate to gain these benefits. Prayer can be a form of meditation, of course. Sometimes prayer and other devotional activities are accompanied by repetitive swaying or rocking motions known to induce a sense of well-being – the so-called “jogger’s high” (though this is not, as is widely believed, a result of releasing endorphins).

Isolation. Isolation can have a powerful psychological effect on people. It can render them more easily psychologically manipulated (which is why isolation is a favourite tool of interrogators) and can produce hallucinations and other altered states of consciousness. Many religions encourage periods of isolation for spiritual purposes – several days in the wilderness say.

Fasting. Fasting, too, is known to produce some peculiar psychological states, including hallucinations, even outside of a religious setting.

Collective singing/chanting. Coming together in a large group to chant or sing can also be a very intoxicating experience, as anyone who has sat on a football terrace can testify.

Architecture. If you have ever entered a large cave by torchlight, you will know that it too can induce a powerful emotional experience. The darkness, echoing sounds, and glimpses of magnificent structures making one fearful and yet excited all at the same time – leading us to start talking in whispers. The echoing grandeur of many places of worship has a similar psychological effect.

Giving. Helping others in face-to-face situation can be an immensely powerful psychological experience - often a deeply gratifying and positive experience, whether or not you happen to do it in a religious setting.

Ritual. Engaging in ritualistic activity often has a calming and beneficial effect, whether or not performed within a religious setting. For example, sportsmen and women often engage in rituals before competing (and can become very disturbed if for some reason the ritual cannot be performed because e.g. their lucky shirt has been lost).

Religious practice typically involves at least some of, and usually, many of, these activities. Activities we know can have a powerful psychological effect even outside of any religious setting. If people collectively engage in such activities with intensity of purpose over a long period of time, this might very well have a marked psychological effect. It might well produce some interesting, and quite possibly beneficial, psychological states.

If we then mix into this heady and intoxicating brew the suggestion that what people are experiencing or becoming psychological attuned to as a result of long term engagement in such regime is some sort of ineffable transcendence, then, given the power of suggestion (see Piling Up The Anecdotes, p xxx), many will probably become quite convinced that this is what’s going on.

The experiences and insights that, as a result of the regime, then coalesce under the label “God” will no doubt be complex and difficult to articulate. There probably is a sense in which someone who has never been through such a regime will not fully appreciate what the experience is actually like for the subject, “from the inside” as it were. Those who have had such an experience will no doubt struggle to communicate its character in much same way that someone who has been through, say, a war or childbirth may struggle. They may well have to resort to poetry or music or other art forms in order to convey its unique intensity.

Armstrong says,

[i]t is clear that the meditation, yoga and rituals that work aesthetically on a congregation have, when practised assiduously over a lifetime, a marked effect on the personality – an effect that is another form of natural theology. There is no ‘born again’ conversion, but a slow, incremental and imperceptible transformation… The effect of these practices cannot give us concrete information about God; it is certainly not a scientific ‘proof’. But something indefinable happens to people who involve themselves in these disciplines with commitment and talent. The ‘something’ remains opaque, however, to those who do not undergo these disciplines…

While it may indeed be difficult for those of us that have not been through such a process to appreciate exactly what it’s like to be in the kind of psychological state it can produce, surely we have pretty good grounds for doubting that what is experienced is some sort of transcendent reality. Given what we know about human psychology, it’s likely that people put through such an intense regime over an extended period of time will think they have become attuned to such a reality anyway, whether or not any such reality exists, and whether or not they have obtained any sort of genuine insight into it.

I don’t wish to deny there is value in engaging in meditation, yoga, and so on. It may well be that those who engage in such practices gain some valuable insights into themselves and the human condition as a result. Certainly, there may be some positive psychological effects, such as a lasting sense of peace and contentment, from determinedly engaging in such activities over a long period of time, effects that will undoubtedly by magnified by the accompanying thought that what they are becoming attuned to is “God”.

But the claim that they have thereby become attuned to some sort of “sacred reality” is dubious to say the least. Surely, given our understanding of human psychology, by far the best explanation of what people experience after having engaged in religious practice with dedication over long periods of time is not that they have become attuned to some sort of ineffable transcendence, but that they have succeeded in altering their own psychology by fairly well-understood mechanisms common to both the religious and non-religious spheres, and that they have then mistakenly interpreted this alteration as their becoming attuned to such a reality.

Conclusion

As we have seen, “I just know” isn’t always unreasonable thing to say. But sometimes it is. Indeed, sometimes it’s a foolish thing to say.

Consider these two examples:
… sometimes I see images and I just know something terrible has happened to them. Psychic Margaret Solis quoted in “The Scots psychic helping Hollywood stars - and hunting down murder victims”, Daily Record, 14th September, 2010

How do I know when God is talking to me? I just know. Internet comment.

Suppose these individuals claiming to “just know” can’t provide any sort of publicly available evidence or rational argument to back up what they claim to “just know”. We have seen that, if reliabilism is true, then the fact that they don’t have any such evidence or argument does not rule out the possibility that they “just know”. However, given what we, and presumably they, know about the unreliability of such psychic and religious experiences generally, surely it’s not reasonable for either us, or them, to take such seemingly revelatory experiences at face value. It’s not reasonable for them to insist they “just know”.

Sabina England: Deaf, Muslim, feminist punk playwright - The Scavenger Sabina England is a Deaf, Muslim, feminist playwright who grew up in England and the US. When she was 21, she landed her first playwrighting opportunity with Kali Theatre, which read her one-act play Chess for Asian Punks, Greek Losers and Dorks at the Theatre Royal Stratford East in London. Her first professional theatrical production was How the Rapist was Born which was produced by Theatre Waah! and Talawa Theatre Company, in association with the Arts Council of England. In addition to her stage plays, Sabina also writes short stories and screenplays. Her first film Wedding Night will be released in 2011. Sabina has a Youtube channel, on which she performs as VelmaSabina in short videos, such as the controversial Allah Save the Punk, and also makes short experimental feminist videos. *Much, if not all, of your work appears to have a feminist ethos. Why is this important to you as a creative maker?* Women make up half of the population on this planet, yet there is so much rampant sexism and misogyny toward females. People don't realize this but even the slightest comment or joke they make is very misogynistic and can be damaging to females. Even women themselves suffer from internalized sexism. This needs to change. I believe that sexism is considered much more acceptable than racism, because sexism knows no racial or cultural bounds. We live in a society where anything associated with women, feminism, or feminity, is constantly vilified, mocked, and degraded. Notice that when females and males are compared, it's considered humiliating if a man is considered feminine, but it's considered a compliment if a woman is associated with male traits. Or how about such remarks such as "Don't be such a pussy," "You fight like a girl," and so on – not to mention the widely accepted idea that the female sexual organ is considered to be weak and lowly, while the male sexual organs are considered strong and aggressive. How many times have we heard "take 'em by the balls"? I'm proud to be a woman, I'm proud to be a feminist, and I won't hesitate to invoke feminism as many times as I want with my works. *Tell us about your play How the Rapist was Born, which premiered in London last year.* The play is about an Indian Muslim woman who was kidnapped by a notorious white rapist, who kept her in his place and raped her every day for two years. She eventually got the courage to kill him and escape for her life. She was also pregnant with his baby. In the play, it is 14 years later and the woman is now living in a mental hospital because she's been so mentally traumatized. We meet her daughter, who happens to be the child of the rapist (and also biracial). This daughter is quite proud of the fact her father was a notorious rapist. She hates her mother and often yells at her with hurtful remarks. The play explores theme of internalized sexism that females have toward other females, misogyny, misanthropy, hatred, alienation, loneliness and rage. It has a very non-linear structure style, partially inspired by ancient Greek plays. There is a chorus of schoolgirls who sometimes go into a maddening chant that drives the protagonist to the brink of insanity. My goal was to make the audience feel uncomfortable and alienated, to feel the pain and rage. *What were some of the responses to it?* On the opening night of in London, the audience was mostly American, and none of them clapped during the curtain call. The following night, the whole audience was British, and they loved it. There was rapturous applause. The audience reception was always very different every night. *You're no stranger to controversy – for example, your Allah Save the Punk short video. Were you worried about and were there any strong/hostile reactions from the Muslim community?* Nah, I wasn't worried about it. I thought it was hilarious that some Muslims (and even non-Muslims) have no sense of humor. I was even called a "whore" and "prostitute" because of how one of my characters dressed. I just think it's so funny. These people can't laugh at themselves? Well, I feel sorry for them. I just laugh at them and then do my thing *Allah Save the Punk is billed as the 'world's first Taqwacores mime'. Tell us about this genre and your choice to use it.* Taqwacores is an Islamic punk movement that was inspired by a novel of the same name. It's gaining steam with Muslims in the United States and other Western nations. Muslim kids, Muslim punks, Muslim immigrants, who feel alienated from the white majority community, are able to connect with each other. There is a very general feeling of anger and frustration that many Muslim youths feel because they don't feel belonged to their local Muslim communities that tend to be conservative and closed in, but then again, these youths don't also feel accepted in the white punk (or any other alternative) scene, either. Taqwacores is just an idea to encourage Muslim youths to embrace their cultural backgrounds and also instill punk rock and a big Fuck You attitude to their elders and to racist people who look down at their cultures and backgrounds. I wanted to make a charming comedy video that uses the concept of Taqwacores and create a character that many Muslim youths could relate to. And many of them had very enthusiastic responses to my video. *How has being deaf influenced the type of work you do?* As a deaf child of non-white immigrants growing up around hearing white people, I was always very angry, alienated, lonely and outcasted. Those feelings led me to reading a lot of books, watching many movies, studying many plays, and because of my obsession for the arts, I became a playwright and found myself making videos and putting on stage plays. *As a deaf, Muslim feminist with Indian heritage, what are some of the challenges you've encountered in getting your work produced and how have you overcome them?* When I was starting out with writing plays, I was really angry that people wouldn't produce my plays because my plays had very little white characters and featured prominent leading characters who were not white. It seems that many theatre companies and producers are really interested in producing "white" plays, even though they'd never tell that to your face. But it's so obvious. Now I just don't care anymore. I make my own stuff and put it out online. I'm hoping that I'll have enough money and interest to produce one of my own plays in New York City at one point in the future. *We've seen the rise of Islamophobia in the west and arguments that Islam and feminism are poles apart. What are your thoughts on this, and of writers such as Irshad Manji, a lesbian and feminist Muslim who call for reforms of Islam? * I think it's great there are Muslims like Irshad Manji and others who are calling for a reform of Islam, but I think it's pointless. I am Agnostic-Atheist and I think organized religions are pointless. All major religions are just social tools of oppression being wrought by religious authorities and the state, in order to exercise control and fear over people. I think it's fine if one has a very personal belief in Allah or any other divine beings, but it's not necessary to align yourself with a religion that commands a rigid structure of beliefs in order to be a "good Muslim." Why? What's the point? *What are your thoughts on the notion that anyone, including Muslims, who criticises Islam is merely fuelling Islamophobia?* I think more Muslims, whether progressive or religious, need to criticize Islam. But this is true for every major organized religion. "Islamophobia" is such a poor choice of word to describe anti-Muslim racism. "Islamophobia" sounds like a phobia of Islam, but really, it means a racist phobia of Muslims as a whole group. I wish there's a better word to describe anti-Muslim racism. But when it comes to criticizing Islam as a religion or ideology, I encourage more people to speak out against Islam. *Tell us about your short story ‘Islamic Orgasm’, in the anthology Sex Scene: An Anthology.* I was asked by Robert James Russell, a great writer based in Detroit, to write a piece specially for the anthology and he gave us one month to write it. I came up with the story about a Muslim man (he is Iranian American) who goes to visit a dark-skinned prostitute and they have amazing sex. Later, he discovers that she's Muslim just like him and he feels horrified. He is a hypocrite because he thinks its fine for him to have sexual desires, but not ok for a Muslim woman to have sexual desires. When he comes back to the brothel to try to "save" her, he is shocked when he watches her having sex with another Muslim man and the Muslim man is reciting 99 names of Allah. After they're done, the prostitute speaks of how having sex with humans is her way of having sex with Allah. *You were born in the UK and I believe now live in the US. What are some of your observations on the differences (if any) in the way your work is received in the two countries?* Americans are less responsive to my works because my works have a very European feeling, while I've had better reception from Europeans on my works. I think that I've had better luck in Europe than the United States. *You have a film coming out next year called Wedding Night. The trailer is definitely a 'teaser'! What can you tell us about the film?* The film is a short story that explores arranged marriages in South Asian cultures. It's about a Pakistani American man who marries a woman who has just arrived from Pakistan. They meet for the first time on their wedding night and their secrets come pouring out. The man is shocked when he discovers his new wife had a "reputation" back in Pakistan. She was known as a whore. It disgusts her husband. He then becomes aggressive toward her and demands she takes her clothes off. She refuses. There is a very explosive scene toward the end of the film. It's a sad story. I was inspired to write the script after hearing a lot of real-life stories about arranged marriages for Indian-Pakistani women. It's hilariously pathetic that a lot of Desi Muslim guys in the Western world think that women from India and Pakistan are more "modest" than Desi American women, so they'd rather marry a "nice, good woman" from the motherland. And then they act so shocked when these women are just like Desi American women – women with real feelings, women who are strong and independent and women who have had experience in the sack. *Finally, you've made a series of short experimental feminist videos including Saint/Slut. What is the aim behind these?* I really like to make videos and tell stories because I'm an artist, I'm a playwright. I feel that if my videos can make someone laugh or make them think, then I've done my job as an artist and entertainer, and I'm happy with that. Visit Sabina England’s official website, her blog Dead American Dream, her Youtube site (VelmaSabina), and her Facebook fan page.

Kent Filbel, communication studies instructor, speaks Nov. 2 about his religion, which he defines as a version of Hellenismos, a restoration of ancient Greek practices.

We look to Greece and Rome for the roots of the modern world. But, as Michael Wood reminds us, civilised life in Iraq began 4,000 years earlier

Driving north out of Samawa towards Baghdad, a short way beyond the Euphrates bridge, a tarmac track leaves the main road, heading eastwards into a scarred, dun-coloured wasteland. Soon you enter the real desert, swept by sandstorms. Then, after 60km or so, a haunting scene unfolds.

Looming out of the haze, the eye begins to make out a low range of brown hills, at first shapeless, then taking form: the eroded stumps of ziggurats to the Goddess Ishtar and Anu ("Lord Sky"). This is Warka, a site few places on earth can match for sheer atmosphere, and a landmark in the human story.

William Loftus, the first outsider in modern times to see these sights in 1849, was almost overwhelmed: "I know of nothing more exciting or impressive than the first sight of one of these Chaldaean piles, looming in solitary grandeur from the surrounding plains and marshes ... Of all the desolate sites I ever beheld, that of Warka incomparably surpasses all".

4,000 years of history

Named Uruk by the Akkadians, Unug by the Sumerians, Erech in the Bible and Orchoe by the Greeks, the city was founded in the fifth millennium BC and survived into the first millennium AD. It was ruled in later times by Romans, Persians and Muslim Arabs before in the seventh century AD it was abandoned, except for the Bedouin, whose black tents still hug the horizon. To what extent Uruk really was the "mother of cities" is still hotly argued by archaeologists. It is claimed to be the birthplace of writing, mathematics and literature, and few would dispute that it is one of the most potent memory places of humanity.

The size of the site is testimony to the scale of the achievement of Mesopotamia, the world's first civilisation. Inside its silted gates, poking out of huge dunes, it is 3km wide and the circuit, dating back to around 3000BC, is 9km. Where the past century of archaeology has exposed them, you see great platforms and revetments of burned brick like the foundations of small skyscrapers. In places below the visitor's feet are strata 75 feet deep, which contain the shattered bric-a-brac of human history: Islamic glass, Hellenistic bowls, Parthanian clay coffins, greenish black-patterned Ubaid sherds and the little clay sickles used by the first dwellers in the Mesopotamian plain around 5000BC. In this one place is the image of civilisation: its rise, growth, triumphs – and perhaps its end too.

Like the cultures of the Nile or the Indus, Mesopotamia, as its name suggests ("the land between the rivers") owed its existence to a river system. Large-scale human societies had begun to grow from about 10,000BC in an arc through Syria, Palestine, Anatolia and the Zagros mountains. Starting with the first larger scale settlements at Jericho and Catal Huyuk in Anatolia, these were well built but still relatively small. It was only when sophisticated irrigation techniques were developed that the plain of southern Iraq was opened up to sustain a huge concentration of people and resources. Yet even this was still a relatively confined area: Mesopotamia had 25,000 sq km of irrigated land – similar in size to early dynastic Egypt.

From the fourth millennium BC came the first large cities, then states, whose culture and society would influence every aspect of life across west Asia – and further afield. In the third millennium BC, there were around 40 cities in Sumer and Akkad that made up the Babylonian plain. One big city-state, Lagash (whose site is more than 3km across), had 36,000 male adults in the third millennium BC, suggesting upwards of 100,000 people altogether. Uruk was probably of similar size. Each controlled an extensive territory: at Nippur, for example, 200 subsidiary villages clustered around five main canals and 60 smaller ones, joined by a web of countless small irrigation ditches – all subject to laws, customs and close control. These urban developments were fed by a trading network which, in the case of Uruk, linked Anatolia, Syria and the Zagros. Recent research has shown that Mesopotamia might not only have given birth to the world's first trading culture, but also the earliest private treaty stock market.

It is not surprising then that writing, written law, contract law, and international treaties are all found for the first time in the area. Not only does history begin at Sumer, but so does economics.

Art and war

So who were the people who made this breakthrough in human history? The Sumerians were the prehistoric population of the southern plain of Iraq. Their ethnic and linguistic affiliations are not yet clear; their language is not related to any known language, though there are many theories. During the third millennium BC a close cultural symbiosis took place between the Sumerians and the Akkadians, who lived in the middle of the plain – the area around and south of modern Baghdad. Many of the civilisational achievements of Mesopotamia are the product of that symbiosis. Sumerian itself, though, had died out as a living language by around 1600BC, leaving it only the preserve of Babylonian scientists, scholars and liturgists. By the time the last Sumerian texts were copied in cuneiform in the Hellenistic age of the second century BC, the language had long been superseded by Akkadian as the language of literature in Mesopotamia. And the Sumerians themselves had long disappeared into the multiracial mix that was ancient Iraq.

In the 1850s, when the first major excavations were conducted in Iraq, it was still commonly held that the cultural progenitors of western civilisation were the classical world of Greece and Rome and Judaeo-Christian religion. Though the Book of Genesis mentioned Uruk, Akkad and Babylon, it was never suspected that these much older civilisations had had a profound influence on the civilisations of the Near East and the Mediterranean world. At that time it was also not known that Mesopotamia had led the way in the invention of writing and literature; in mathematics, science, astronomy and geometry; in the invention of the wheel; and in the earliest law codes. Even today, when we count time and space in multiples of 12 and 60, we do so because of the Mesopotamians.

Creativity and conflict

But if Mesopotamia was a place of cultural and technological innovation, it was also the site of constant conflict. With no natural boundaries, and no protection from neighbours, it was always open to attack from nomads and outside invaders, and internally prey to continual disputes over resources – especially water. Not surprisingly, then, this is where organised law appears for the first time in history – as well as organised warfare.

The history of Mesopotamia was then both uniquely creative and uniquely violent and destructive; marked by invasions and devastating wars in which the great achievements of its civilisation were smashed many times, from the ruin of the Ur III dynasty through Mongols, Tartars and Seljuks, to the savagery of recent wars.

Nevertheless, a single civilisation survived through all these conflicts – one that is recognisably Iraqi: a land of "singular destiny" as the French historian Fernand Braudel put it. The character that emerges is very different from the optimism of Egyptian culture. Early Iraq was pessimistic in its view of human destiny – its poets knew the achievements of humanity were fragile and always fated to be wiped away. This insight informs the world's earliest literature and comes right down to the rich vein of modern Iraqi poetry. It perhaps also explains why lamentation became a ritual tradition in ancient Iraq and still is in Iraqi Shiism; a cultural personality that is still part of the way Iraqis are seen by other Arabs.

How and when did ancient Iraq end? One should note that in Iraqi culture there is no clear dividing line between the ancient world and the medieval. Alexander's conquest in 331BC might look like an ending on paper, but in fact it inaugurated Uruk's greatest age during a thousand years of multilingual Hellenic culture in a vast region stretching as far as India.

The Arab conquest of Mesopotamia in the seventh century AD looks like another cultural turning point, but even then, change was slow, with a more immediate impact on mentalities rather than material culture and custom. Just as Christianity inherited the Roman empire in the West, Islam inherited West Asia and the Near East; and in this sense Islam could be seen simply as a continuation of the much older culture that underlay it. Baghdad, the great capital of the caliphate founded in AD762, was still a vast Mesopotamian city, made of burnt brick in the ancient way. And if change was slow in Baghdad, it was even slower in the old cities. The sacred city of Nippur, for example, continued to be a provincial centre for scholars – Christian, Jewish and Muslim. It was a crumbling old Iraqi town, with its warren of alleys like today's Irbil or old Kirkuk, with mosques, churches and synagogues, its sufis and its Talmudic lawyers. Out in the countryside the old Mesopotamian religion survived until cAD1000, among pagan tribes in the south of the plain who worshipped the deities of the primal waters, the abode of the old Sumerian god Enki.

In Iraq, the real dividing line between the ancient and modern worlds was the Mongol invasion of 1258, when the country's vast irrigation works were ruined and the population decimated. But even then the ancient world never really ended. Even today, in the streets of Najaf during the Shia ceremony of Ashura, people still enact the communal ritual lament, which was so striking a feature of their ancient culture. Even in their traditional clothes one might see a link: Herodotus' description of typical Babylonian clothes – keffiya jalabiya and dishdash – can be seen anywhere today.

Another intriguing aspect of Mesopotamia's cultural influence is its impact on western and Arab literature. The rediscovery of its ancient literature in the 19th century stressed links with the Bible: stories of the Flood, Noah, the Tower of Babel or the Garden of Eden were all tales that far predated the Old Testament. Ezekiel's Babylonian vision of "the likeness and glory of God" is thoroughly Mesopotamian. But scholars have been far slower to cotton on to the fact that later Arabic and Greek literature is permeated by Mesopotamian ideas, images and stories. Especially influential was the cycle of tales about the legendary king of Uruk, Gilgamesh, which might just be the single most influential work of literature in the world. It is now clear, for example, that many of the Tales of the Arabian Nights are transformations of ancient tales that had long circulated orally. The same goes for Gilgamesh's great quest for the secret of eternal life, a journey of the soul that percolated into medieval Islamic mystical tales and even, it seems, into Dante's Inferno. Early Greek literature – especially Homer, Hesiod and the early epic tradition – was strongly influenced in form and content by Gilgamesh. Mesopotamian civilisation, in short, is still alive in the ways we think, count time and measure the world, but also in the stories that we love most.

Saddam's Mesopotamia

In the age of Saddam, the history of Mesopotamia was co-opted by the Baathists: massive restoration projects were undertaken, some impressive (such as the ziggurat at Ur), some megalomaniacal (such as rebuilding the palace at Babylon with Saddam's name stamped on to every 12th brick). Travellers in Iraq were confronted by huge murals and billboards of Saddam at Ur: Saddam on the white horse of Hussein at Karbala; Saddam receiving the Tablets of Destiny from Ashurnasipal himself. But the wars of 1991 and 2003 have left the country's incomparable heritage wrecked.

Previous generations, of course, had seen many of Iraq's treasures taken to London, Paris and Berlin. But what is left has suffered grave damage. Great sites such as Uruk and Nippur survived, but Babylon was badly damaged, and isolated sites have been systematically looted – Umma, one of the world's earliest cities, is now pockmarked by illicit diggers' pits; clay tablets from temple libraries have appeared on the art market. Iraq's National Library was also damaged, and many modern archives are reported destroyed.

Like the other great civilisations – Greek, Indian, Chinese, Persian – Iraq had the ability to remake itself over millennia, preserving its own distinctive vision. The author of the epic of Gilgamesh asks us to "walk the walls of Uruk … what human could ever equal them? Go up, go on; walk around – look at the foundations. Are they not magnificent? Didn't the Seven Sages themselves lay it all out?" His admiration of the achievements of humankind is all the more poignant as we walk around Uruk today under the contrails of allied jets amid the destruction of our time.

Michael Wood is a film-maker and broadcaster who first worked in Iraq more than 20 years ago. His latest book, The Story of England, is published by Viking

The tragic demise of the Americas' native civilisations has too long distracted from its impressive cultural feats, argues Colin McEwan

Original civilisations developed in just a select handful of places across the globe. Two of these – the Andes and Mesoamerica – are found in the last continental landmass to be colonised by humanity. From the frozen reaches of Alaska and the Canadian Arctic, across the high grassland plains of North America, through the equatorial tropics and down the spine of the Andes to Patagonia at the uttermost end of the earth, the Americas boast an extraordinary range of landscapes and climates. These presented great challenges to human adaptive capacities and produced some remarkable and ingenious responses. In 1519, the Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés and his party first beheld the Aztec capital Tenochtitlan as if floating on the shimmering waters of Lake Texcoco, in the Basin of Mexico. His incredulous companion Bernal Diaz extolled the vision of this great island metropolis, with its temples, plazas, ordered streets, gardens and causeways, as "surpassing anything to be seen in all of Europe".

Yet successive visitors have been as likely to dismiss America's native population as they have been to praise it. Writing some 300 years after Cortés, Charles Darwin described the Yahgan canoe Indians of Tierra del Fuego as "the most miserable wretches on the face of the earth", living on the very lowest rung of human existence. He would not have been aware that for decades, passing whalers and seal hunters had decimated the colonies of marine mammals upon which the Yahgan depended, introducing contagious disease and alcohol along the way, with devastating consequences.

These wildly divergent accounts have coloured the European imagination to such an extent that pre-Columbian peoples and cultures are still prone to be tagged as primitive and mysterious. Prior to modern archaeological research, the ancient history of the Americas was framed within a greatly foreshortened and unrealistic timescale; only recently have we learned to appreciate that the rise of civilisation on this side of the globe broadly parallels advances elsewhere in the world, albeit with its own distinctive character.

Rise of civilisation

Most researchers agree that it took as many as 50,000 years for the North and South American continents to be populated; we certainly know that the earliest human colonists arrived in Patagonia around 10,000 years or so ago. With global warming following the end of the last ice age, favoured environments fostered the steady growth of settled communities and the gradual transition from hunting and foraging to farming. Just as was the case in the "Old World", some wild plants became highly productive staple crops – the outcome of thousands of years of human selection and breeding. In the South American lowlands these include cassava (which required a sophisticated processing technology) and other tubers, peppers, peanuts, tobacco and cotton. In the South American highlands, domesticated llamas and alpacas supplied vital meat and wool as well as serving as pack animals well adapted to the vertiginous terrain. The native American horse had long been extinct and the horse that we are familiar with from Westerns was only reintroduced in the 16th century by the Spanish. Guinea pigs were another vital source of food – complemented by potatoes, beans and quinoa. In Mesoamerica, maize (teosinte, literally "food of the gods") was all-important, and once separated from its wild progenitor (thus avoiding cross-breeding) it was widely adopted in both Meso and South America, fuelling demographic growth and increasing social complexity. The Maya revered maize and even modelled busts of their young maize god with flowing hair to resemble the silk tassel on an ear of corn.

As in other parts of the globe, competition for the best farmable land and precious water led to the rise of ruling elites who presided over agriculture and craft production. This, in turn, led to the growth of religion and the creation of artworks that reflected both spiritual and political concerns. Thus on Mexico's Gulf Coast from 1200BC onwards, the precocious Olmec culture nurtured the first great art style in Mesoamerica, with monumental sculpted heads of rulers weighing many tonnes. They were followed by the rise of the Maya city-states further south, whose stone reliefs mark key events in the lives of their kings and queens. In highland Mexico, farmers, craftsmen and traders supported the city of Teotihuacan, which housed as many as 200,000 inhabitants by AD600, making it one of the six largest urban centres of its time in the world. Teotihuacan still serves as an example of a model metropolis: a multi-ethnic urban centre fuelled by far-reaching trade networks.

In the Oaxaca Valley, the Mixtec and Zapotec progressively enlarged the site of Monte Alban, with its spectacular temples, tombs and ball courts. Meanwhile, further south, Peru's Pacific north coast spawned an early tradition of great U-shaped ceremonial settlements with monumental architecture and sunken plazas that preceded the introduction of pottery. One of those centres, Caral, has been claimed to be the first urban complex in the Americas.

Ritual and ceremony also left their mark at Chavín de Huántar on the eastern flank of the Andes, in the form of densely intertwined images of animals and birds, reminiscent of Celtic art. Chavín art exerted a seminal influence on Andean culture, and the coastal states of Moche (later Chimu) and Nasca developed innovative but strikingly different art styles. Painted fine-line Moche vessels can be compared with scenes painted on Greek Attic vases, while the bold polychrome aesthetics of Nazca pottery seem to look forward to Picasso's stylised abstraction. The contemporary Wari and Tiwanaku empires of the highlands created more geometric styles rendered on textiles, clay and stone.

Feats of engineering

Anyone who has ever trekked up the ancient trails that traverse the Andes and gazed down upon the Inca citadel of Machu Picchu – perched atop a high ridge overlooking the Urubamba river – will have marvelled at the ingenuity and skill involved in its creation. Surrounding the site are rhythmic tiers of terraces that played a crucial role in sustaining human habitation in such a spectacular location. By taming the steep mountain slopes, the Incas turned a previously unexploited eco-niche between the lower valleys and the high puna grassland into immensely productive agricultural terrain. Their mastery of the pragmatic demands of water management and irrigation technology blended a consummate knowledge of the landscape with an unrivalled aesthetic sensibility. The sweeping grandeur of these terraces at Pisac, Moray and Ollantaytambo still takes the breath away. On Peru's desert coast, irrigation had been effectively deployed for millennia to support intensive valley farming, coupled with a growing seagoing expertise that capitalised on the wealth of near-shore fishing resources.

Farming technology

In other challenging environments such as the seasonally flooded grasslands of Bolivia's Llanos de Mojos, around Lake Titicaca and in the great river basins of lowland Colombia and Ecuador, the creation of complex patterns of raised fields and canals fostered a favourable micro-climate that would have earned these early farmers miraculous harvests. Similarly ingenious techniques were applied in the Basin of Mexico and the Maya lowlands. All became highly managed, "domesticated" landscapes that demanded a huge input of labour to build and maintain. The Americas became in effect a laboratory for technological experimentation. Techniques and designs that were mastered range from embroidered Paracas textiles (which were the finest anywhere in the world in their time), to smelting and casting a range of metal alloys. The origins of metallurgy stretch back nearly 4,000 years in South America. The continent fostered an astounding cultural diversity in every available eco-niche, from coast to deserts and from riverine lowlands to high montane grasslands.

Reading the stars

Across the Americas, cultures tailored their calendars to mark the movements of the sun, moon and stars. The earliest public architecture was the product of collective endeavours to control the powerful invisible natural forces that govern seasonal changes and the success or failure of crops. The position of temples was often linked to the rhythms of the cosmos. Priests were charged with the task of aligning sacred sites and temples such as the kalasasaya (sacred enclosure) at Tiwanaku and the templo mayor (great temple) at Tenochtitlan on key sunrises and sunsets. They give us a glimpse of the impressive knowledge of pre-Columbian mathematics and astronomy.

Monumental structures were built in the form of terraced platforms, ranging from the earthen mounds of Cahokia in the Mississippi Valley near St Louis to the stone-faced Pyramids of the Sun and Moon at Teotihuacan and the monumental adobe structures on the Peruvian coast, such as the Pyramid of the Sun in the Moche Valley. None assume the classic triangular form of Egyptian pyramids, and indeed owe nothing to external contacts or influences. They reflect a universal human tendency to segregate secular and sacred space, which can also be seen in the ziggurats of ancient Iraq. Temples may be placed on top of platforms to underline their special sacred character, just as rulers themselves are often enthroned on special seats to emphasise their new semi-divine status. Access to these sanctified realms was restricted: doorways and facades are adorned with powerful imagery featuring feared predators such as caimans, killer whales, jaguars, pumas and snakes. New materials and techniques including textiles, metalwork, pottery and stone were deployed in service to state ideology and to reinforce and communicate religious beliefs. At Chavin de Huantar, for example, the visual vocabulary of a new art style was first worked out on textiles and subsequently transferred to stone to create extraordinary sculptures. Impressive polychrome wall murals painted on plaster converted Teotihuacan into a painted city.

Unlike Eurasia, the Americas did not see the emergence of a major expansive empire until the 14th century AD – a feature that has led some mistakenly to dismiss the cultures of the ancient Americas as somehow more "backward" than the marauding Greece of Alexander the Great or Caesar's colonising Rome. In the Americas, as elsewhere in the world, sophisticated social systems were always susceptible to collapses and transformations. In the Maya realm, for example, palace complexes and elaborate inscriptions detailing the accession of kings and queens testify to the importance of kingship from around AD300 onwards. Yet by AD900 a number of Maya city states had suffered collapse. Parallel processes are apparent in coastal Peru around the same time, as evidenced by the recent discovery of the spectacular Moche tomb of the Lord of Sipan. Perhaps the greatest obstacle to effective economic integration and political control in both Mesoamerica and the Andes were the formidable environmental challenges posed by wildly contrasting landscapes. Nevertheless new kinds of kingship and governance laid the foundations for the explosive growth of empires that derived their wealth from systematic conquest and forcible appropriation of resources.

The Aztecs and Incas

Around 1400, two powers emerged intent upon exercising imperial control on an unprecedented scale. In Mesoamerica, the Aztec empire promoted a militaristic state ideology and developed extensive trade networks to secure valued materials, including obsidian and exotic and symbolically powerful materials such as the shimmering, iridescent feathers of the quetzal bird. Meanwhile the Incas drew upon earlier Andean traditions to create the largest native state in the Americas, expanding with remarkable rapidity from their homeland in the Cuzco Valley to rule over a vast swathe of Andean South America. Like the Aztecs, they pursued specific material goods, obsessively combing their empire for the thorny oyster (spondylus princeps) revered for the deep blood-red colour of its shell.

Where was the culture of the ancient Americas headed under these two powerful regimes? We will never know. Ultimately, strangers from across the ocean introduced a new and unexpected challenge. Just 300 Spanish conquistadores under the leadership of Cortés united with the Tlaxcallans and other enemies of the Aztec empire to exploit the leader Moctezuma's political indecision to full advantage, resulting in the conquest and collapse of the Aztec state. In the south, meanwhile, civil war left the weakened Inca realm vulnerable to Francisco Pizarro, who arrived in Peru in 1531 with a tiny force of 180 men and ended up capturing the Inca emperor. Thousands of years of independent cultural innovation in the Americas had now to wrestle with the unfamiliar ideas and practices from Europe, Africa and Asia. America's ancient inhabitants suffered grievously from the shock of conquest and subsequent colonisation, as the visitors' initial marvel at the continent's native culture turned into calculated exploitation.

Colin McEwan is head of the Americas section at the British Museum, and the author of Ancient American Art in Detail (British Museum Press)

Rome had an undeniable talent for warfare and a taste for excess, but that shouldn't obscure its cultural achievements, argues Tom Holland

Ever since her fall, Rome has served the west as the very archetype of empire. Predatory, intimidating and ineffably glamorous, her civilisation was both eerily like our own, and utterly, astoundingly strange. It is this tension, between what is familiar and what is not, that best explains the fascination that Rome still holds for us to this day. The famous words that Edward Gibbon applied to her ruin might well describe the entire parabola of her thousand-year rise and fall. "The greatest, perhaps, and most awful scene, in the history of mankind."

At its heart lies a mystery as profound as any in the records of human civilisation. How did the Romans achieve all that they did? How did a small community, camped out among marshes and hills, end up ruling an empire that stretched from the moors of Scotland to the sands of Arabia? So solidly planted within our imaginations are the brute facts of this rise to superpower status that we have become, perhaps, desensitised to the full astonishing scale of the Roman adventure. Virgil, the great laureate of his people's achievement, saw in it the fulfilment of a mission entrusted to them by the gods. "Your task, O Roman," he wrote in celebrated lines, "is to rule and bring to men the arts of government, to impose upon them the arts of peace, to spare those who submit, to subdue the arrogant."

Rome's enemies, unsurprisingly, were inclined to interpret her motives a little differently. "Warmongers against every nation, people and monarch under the sun," spat Mithridates, an Asiatic king of the first century BC who devoted his life to resisting the encroachments of Roman imperialism. "They have only one abiding motive – greed, deep-seated, for empire and riches." So it has ever been, of course: one man's peacekeeper will invariably appear another's brutal aggressor. Yet both Virgil and Mithridates, profoundly though they may have disagreed as to the character of Rome's dominion, had not the slightest doubt as to what had made it possible. Her truest talent was for conquest. There were other peoples, perhaps, who excelled the Romans in the arts, or in philosophy, or in the study of the heavens, but there were none who could match the legions on the battlefield. Rome's greatness was won and maintained, above all, by her genius for war.

The city's destiny had been manifest in her origins. Rome was founded, according to tradition, in 753BC, by Romulus, her first king: a man who had drunk in savagery from a she-wolf's teat. The story of this suckling was one that always caused the Romans some embarrassment – for it was the habit of their enemies to condemn Rome as "the city of the wolf." Yet the image of the Romans as a killer breed, sniffing the wind for prey, and feasting on raw meat, only told half the story. Their undoubted aptitude for violence was mediated by a characteristic no less potent: a steely admiration for self-control. When the son of Rome's seventh king, ignoring this, raped a prominent citizen's wife, the scandalised Romans abolished the monarchy altogether and replaced it, in 509BC, with a republic.

Later generations would pinpoint this as the moment when Rome came of age. Yet in truth, for a century after the expulsion of their last king, the Romans struggled to establish their city as anything particularly notable. Then, in 390BC, came the experience that transformed the Republic into a state authentically mutant and lethal. An invading horde of barbarians from the north wiped out an entire Roman army, swept into Rome itself, and pillaged the city mercilessly. A salutary and shocking humiliation – and the episode, more than any other, that served to put steel into the Roman soul. The Republic, from that moment on, was resolved never again to tolerate defeat, dishonour or disrespect.

Expanding of the empire

Slowly at first, and then with increasing self-assurance, the Romans pushed back the limits of their supremacy. By the 260s BC, they had established their city as the mistress of Italy, and by 241, after a terrible war lasting 24 years, succeeded in defeating the great naval power of Carthage, and establishing their first overseas province.

It was not in victory, however, that they best demonstrated the unique fortitude of their character, but in catastrophe. In 218BC, a Carthaginian general named Hannibal renewed his city's war against Rome. Two years later, on 2 August 216, he subjected the largest army that the Roman Republic had ever put into the battlefield to utter defeat. More soldiers, it has been estimated, were slaughtered in that single day's fighting than were killed on the first day of the battle of the Somme – and the scene of carnage, it is said, "was shocking even to the enemy." The battle of Cannae, the greatest victory of Rome's greatest enemy, annihilated perhaps a fifth of her available manpower, and it was the natural presumption of Hannibal that she was now bound to sue for terms.

But she did not. Against all the conventions of warfare at the time, implacably and barely believably, the Romans fought on. In due course, completing one of the most sensational comebacks in military history, they emerged triumphant – first against Hannibal, and then against anything that any power anywhere could throw against them. By the first century BC, Rome was the undisputed queen of the Mediterranean.

This was unprecedented, in that huge empires had often been won by monarchs before – but never by a republic. To the Romans themselves, as startled as everyone else by the scale of their rise to dominance, it appeared self-evident that their liberty and their greatness were different sides of the same coin. The values that gave breath to the Republic, the rituals and codes of its citizens, its extremes of ambition, self-sacrifice and desire: these, it seemed to the Romans, were what had enabled them to conquer the world.

"It is almost beyond belief how great the Republic's achievements were once the people had gained their freedom, such was the longing for glory that it lit in every citizen's heart." So wrote Sallust, Rome's first great historian. There were few of his fellow citizens who would have disagreed.

Seeds of destruction

Political rights at home, and expansive conquests abroad: a combination that made the Republic the most potent state in the world. Yet, as in all the greatest tragedies, in its ideals and virtues lay the seeds of its fall.

Liberty, in the Republic, meant the right of its citizens to compete with one another, and test themselves to the very limit. Throughout the Republic's history, its great men had sought to win glory. As Rome's power grew, so the scope for conflict grew as well. In the final anguished century of the Republic's existence, Rome's greatest generals began to win vast resources for themselves. The consequences of this were soon to become grimly apparent.

By the 50s BC, a citizen named Julius Caesar, who as governor of Gaul had succeeded in conquering 800 cities and 300 tribes for the Republic, had also secured for himself the capacity to menace the Republic with destruction.

So it happened, in the last half of the 1st century BC, that a series of terrible civil wars were fought. Out of these, first Julius Caesar and then his great-nephew, Octavian, emerged as the undisputed masters of the Roman world. The Republic, having lived by the sword, had duly perished by the sword.

The only alternative to anarchy and the total breakdown of Roman power, it appeared, was military dictatorship – and that, in a sense, is precisely what Octavian provided. Yet his genius was to hide it. The Romans, weary of the militarism that had brought them their greatness, now found themselves preferring the comforts of slavery and order to the turmoil of liberty and chaos. Octavian, awarded the splendid honorific of the "Divinely Favoured One" ("Augustus") – banished the legions from Italy to the distant frontiers, and proclaimed the dawning of a new and universal era of peace. It was the measure of his success, perhaps, that the word imperator ("general") used during his reign should have evolved to mean something much more – our word "emperor". The poet Virgil, whose epic poem the Aeneid was the supreme masterpiece of an unprecedented efflorescence of Roman literature, hailed Augustus as a man destined to "bring back the age of gold" – and so, by and large, it proved.

A reputation for decadence

A later generation of writers, however, would look back on the regime established by Augustus with more jaundiced eyes. It is thanks to Suetonius – the founder of racy biography, and above all to Tacitus – greatest and most mordant pathologist of autocracy – that the court of the Caesars remains to this day the very model of lurid decadence. Augustus, so Tacitus pointed out, had persuaded the Romans to accept his mastery by pretending they were still free. But his successor, Tiberius, made his contempt for what they had become far more evident. He ruled from his villa in Capri, where slave boys could nibble at his genitals while he enjoyed a relaxing swim. Meanwhile, back in Rome, the absent emperor's authority was maintained by terror: wholesale pogroms wiped out members of the city's leading families, while toppled ministers might be hauled through the streets with meathooks through their mouths.

Only when the aged Tiberius was finally smothered beneath a pillow by Caligula, his impatient heir, did the Roman people breathe easily again. But Caligula was soon to show himself the most terrifying emperor of them all. "I wish all Rome had one neck," he cried on one occasion; and on another: "Let them hate me, so long as they fear me."

Yet even he did not inspire in subsequent generations the appalled fascination with which his nephew, Nero, would inspire: he was remembered by the Romans as a man who had killed his mother, married a eunuch, and burned down half of Rome. Read only the pages of Tacitus, and it would appear that the entire world had become a slaughterhouse.

In truth, however, barring one flare-up of civil war in the wake of Nero's typically histrionic suicide, the peace established by Augustus across the broad sweep of the empire held. The occasional conquest was still made – Britain, for instance, in AD43. And in Judea, between AD66 and 135, a succession of Jewish uprisings were brutally suppressed, with fateful consequences. For two centuries, however, the Pax Romana (Roman peace) was something very much more than sham. It did serve to bring order and prosperity to an immense swathe of territories – and prolonged peace, in the ancient world, was a condition sufficiently rare to justify Roman self-satisfaction. Indeed, never in human history had so many people lived for so long without experience of war.

Throughout the second century AD, a succession of Caesars, disdaining the excesses of a Caligula or a Nero, and the risk of assassination that they brought, sought to rule with "the governing wisdom that comes from laws," rather than through direct intimidation and violence. Here, for the Roman people, was reassurance that they did indeed remain in communion with all that was noblest from their past. Right from the very earliest days of the Republic, they had always been intensely proud of their legal system. Indeed, it was the only intellectual activity that they felt entitled them to sneer at the Greeks. They knew that it was what defined them – and that still, even under a monarchy, it was what continued to guarantee them their civic rights.

As for their masters, these, by and large, laboured nobly and well. An emperor such as Hadrian, rather than lounging about in a pleasure palace, was instead a tireless traveller across the length and breadth of his dominions, even visiting its chilliest and outermost limit, the north of Britain. Hadrian's real love, however, was Greece – so much so that, in Athens, a gateway below the Acropolis proclaimed that "this in times past was the City of Theseus, but no longer, for now it is Hadrian's." The beautification of Athens had been promoted with a passionate enthusiasm: for Hadrian hoped that, in Greek culture, he might find a glue to stick together all the disparate elements of his empire. Sure enough, with each succeeding generation, his vision of Greece and Rome as the twin poles of civilised accomplishment came to seem ever less idiosyncratic – and the empire itself steadily more Graeco-Roman. No wonder, then, that by the 2nd century AD, even distant provinces were increasingly proud to call themselves Roman, and eulogised the world's capital in gratitude.

Decline and fall

Except that increasingly, in the shadow of the millennial anniversary of Rome's founding, there were weeds to be found in the garden, and spreading brambles. By the third century AD, legions on the frontiers had begun to discover that rewards potentially far richer than peace-time pay were to be had by promoting the interests of rival Caesars. Simultaneously, as the Roman world collapsed into civil wars more internecine even than those that had destroyed the Republic, a fresh catastrophe loomed. In Persia, for the first time, an enemy emerged, in the form of the Sasanian monarchy, capable of directly menacing Rome's dominions in the east. In AD260, an emperor, the elderly Licinius Valerianus, was even taken prisoner. The wretched captive, still garbed in his imperial purple, was reputedly used by the Persian king as a mounting block for climbing on to his horse. When Valerian, worn out by his humiliations, finally died, his corpse was flayed, and the empty skin filled with straw.

A potent symbol, perhaps, of an empire in irrevocable decay? So it might have seemed – and yet the Roman order, redeemed from apparent collapse, emerged during the fourth century upon a new and formidable footing. True, the empire was one markedly different from that of three centuries before. Whereas Augustus, "that subtle tyrant", had sought to veil the true foundations of his authority, the emperor Diocletian ruled nakedly as a king – something the Romans, back in their early history, had always been most proud to resist. Power, which had once resided far from the frontiers, now dwelt instead far from Rome, among the military strongholds that lined the empire's outer limits. Indeed, in a sense, the entire Roman world had been transformed into an armed camp: an autocracy of blood and steel.

Legacy

It has always been tempting, particularly under the influence of Gibbon, to cast the final centuries of the empire as a period exclusively of decline and fall. But the truth is that the revolution witnessed during the fourth and fifth centuries AD was destined to profoundly influence the future course of global history. In AD312, as he was about to engage with a rival for the throne, a brilliant young general named Constantine had a vision of a great cross in the sky. When he emerged victorious, he attributed his triumph not to the ancient gods of Rome, but to the god of a hitherto reviled and persecuted sect: the Christians. Constantine's reign was to see Christ transformed into the partner of a Caesar – and his church into a tool of imperial control. A fateful development indeed: for, in the long run, the establishment of Christianity as a state religion would provide a model fit to inspire popes and caliphs alike. As for the Roman Empire itself, Christianisation provided it with a new lease of life. In the west, the structures of the imperial church were destined to long outlast those commanded directly by the Caesars. In the east, transformed into something wholly new, it would endure for a further millennium as an empire we now call Byzantine. As its capital, it would have Constantine's own foundation, Constantinople: the self-proclaimed "second Rome". The old order had ended – a new age had begun.

Tom Holland is the author of three works of history: Rubicon, Persian Fire, and Millennium. He is currently writing a book on late antiquity and the origins of Islam. He has adapted Homer, Herodotus, Thucydides and Virgil for BBC Radio and is currently working on a translation of Herodotus for Penguin Classics

It had paid-up intellectuals and progressive politics, yet ancient Greece was less civil than we are inclined to remember, says Paul Cartledge

E pluribus unum: "out of many – one". The one-time motto of the US reminds us that, much like most of the larger nation states today, ancient Greece was a mosaic of very different components: about 1,000 of them at any one time between c600BC and AD330. That is, there were a thousand or so separate, often radically self-differentiated political entities, most of which went by the title of polis, or citizen-state. Our term "Greece" is derived from the Romans' Latin name, Graecia, whereas the ancient Greeks spoke of Hellas – meaning sometimes the Aegean Greek heartland, at other times the entire, hypertrophied Hellenic world – and referred to themselves as "Hellenes".

In the foundational epics attributed to Homer, however, you won't find Greeks referred to as "Hellenes" but as "Achaeans", "Danaans", or "Argives". That was because the epics are set in a period before "Hellas" and "Hellenes" had become common currency – before, that is, the eighth century BC, when Greeks first started emigrating permanently from the Aegean basin and settling around the Mediterranean and Black Seas. By the time of Plato, around 400BC, Hellas stretched from the Pillars of Heracles (straits of Gibraltar) in the west to Phasis in Colchis (in modern Georgia) in the far east. Later, following the conquests of Alexander the Great, the pale of Hellenic settlement was extended even further eastwards, as far as Afghanistan and the Indus Valley of Pakistan.

Everyone who was not a Hellene by birth, language or culture was labelled a barbaros. Originally an onomatopoeic description of anyone who spoke a non-Greek, unintelligible language, barbaros came to acquire the pejorative connotations of "barbarous" and "barbaric". The Romans took the same sort of view of all non-Romans – excepting only Hellenes – which is how those emotive terms entered our own language.

United Greece

The transformational turning point came in the first decades of the fifth century BC, in the course of the epic conflict known from the Greek standpoint as the Persian Wars. The mighty Persian empire, the fastest growing and largest oriental empire yet, had threatened to swallow up mainland Greece as well as those Greeks who lived within the bounds of what the Persians considered their own sphere – Asia. But on the battlefields of Marathon, Salamis, Plataea and Mycale, a relative handful of Greek communities managed to unite long enough to repulse that threat – for ever, as it turned out. Indeed, Alexander turned the tables by conquering the old Persian empire and starting to create a new Helleno-Persian successor: oriental in its underlying administrative and symbolic structure, but Greek in unifying language and high culture.

Furthermore, the Greeks' unexpected victories over the Persians of 490 and 480-479BC unleashed an era of unparalleled cultural creativity – from Aeschylus's tragic drama Persians of 472BC to the mathematical genius of Archimedes. However, united though they were by religion and common social customs and by at least partly fictional self-images, these Greeks were very much not united by one of their major contributions to the sum of human achievement – politics.

Much of our everyday political language is of ancient Greek derivation: monarchy, tyranny, oligarchy, aristocracy, plutocracy, democracy – not to mention the word "politics" itself. Much of the rest is Latin-derived: constitution, republic, empire, among others. But the Latin for "democracy" was democratia, a loan-word, because actually the Romans didn't do democracy – at least not in the original ancient Greek sense of the term; and they recognised, as we all do or should, that in this sphere the Greeks had been the original pioneers.

However, the ancient Greeks' demokratia was hugely different not just in scale but in kind from any modern political system that claims the title of "democracy". That was partly because the fundamental ancient Greek political unit, the polis, was a strong community in a very exclusive sense: only adult male citizens could consider themselves politically entitled. Even then, the ancient Greeks typically ruled themselves directly, in that they did not select rulers to rule over and for them. Theirs were direct, participatory self-governments, whereas ours are notionally "representative".

But democracy, so far from being the ancient Greek norm, was at first a rare and rather fragile plant: only later did it become about as widely distributed as various forms of oligarchy. And only in a few cases – in Athens, above all – was it both deeply rooted and conspicuously radical. At all times and in all places it remained more or less controversial. And there was a good linguistic reason for this. Demokratia was a compound of demos and kratos. But whereas kratos unambiguously meant "grip" or "power", demos could be interpreted to mean either "people" (in a vague sense, as in Abraham Lincoln's famous words at Gettysburg: "government of the people, by the people, for the people") or very specifically "the masses": the poor majority of the enfranchised citizen body (which might range in size from as few as 500, as on the island-state of Melos in the Cyclades, to as many as the 50,000 citizens of democratic Athens).

So if you liked demokratia, it could mean People Power, but if you hated it – if, say, you were a member of the wealthy elite – then it could stand for the ancient Greek equivalent of Lenin's dictatorship of the proletariat.

By and large the Romans took the second view, which is why they went to great lengths to stamp it out within their empire – the eastern half of which was basically Greek – in the end with total success. It therefore took a great deal of effort and ingenuity in the 19th century to rehabilitate "democracy" as a viably positive term of political discourse – and even then only at the cost of draining it of the active, participatory, class-conscious dimension the Athenians had given it.

Worship and sacrifice

A popular proverb says that the ancient Greeks "had a word for it". But actually they didn't always. A conspicuous example is that they had no word for our "religion", which is taken from Latin. Our manifold and multifarious legacy from the ancient Greeks does not include their polytheistic religion – which was superseded and suppressed by various forms of Judaeo-Christianity and then Islam. These latter faiths are all based on the presumption of a single deity, and on privileged hierarchies of vocational officials who interpret their sacred texts and dogmas. The ancient Greeks' "things of the gods", on the other hand, needed no clergy, dogma or doctrine: formulaic rituals mattered above all.

It is easy for us today to be over-impressed by the standing remains of monumental temples such as those on the Acropolis of Athens or of Greek Acragas (Agrigento in Sicily), or by reports of now lost wonders such as the huge seated cult-statue of Zeus at Olympia, crafted by master sculptor Pheidias of Athens in the 430sBC. For most Greeks the object of their greatest devotion was an altar, whether domestic or public. The most characteristic act of religious worship was the performance of a sacrifice, such as a gift of olive oil, wine or grain, or the killing of a pig or chicken. These offerings symbolised both communion between the god or goddess and their mortal worshippers, as well as the unbridgeable gulf that separated the human from the super-human. Though the Greeks' gods and goddesses were represented in human shape, they were regarded rather as powers – immeasurably more powerful than puny mortals.

Myths

Another unique feature about the Greek deities was that they didn't have a hand in creating the world. In fact, they themselves were created only after a void state of chaos. We refer to these stories about the Greek gods' supernatural origins and functions as "myths". But for the Greeks a myth was a traditional tale that could have a purely secular, mortal content. Indeed, it was a prime marker of advanced intellectuals' sceptical, rational, critical outlook that "myth" came to be downgraded as a derogatory term meaning something like a romantic fiction. And it was a condition of the Greeks' achievements in philosophy and the natural sciences that they managed to reason without invoking mythology, conducting their ideas on the understanding that the natural and human worlds could in principle be explained without recourse to the hypothesis of supernatural intervention.

The Greek world's first paid-up intellectual was Thales of Miletus (on the Aegean seaboard of western Turkey today), who lived around 600BC. He not only fell down wells while contemplating the heavens (as all proper intellectuals should), but also predicted a total solar eclipse (here he was fortunate to be heir to the discoveries and records of Babylonians and Egyptians before him), thus robbing it of potential divine mystique, and once made a substantial profit by successfully predicting a bumper olive harvest. Thales and his followers had a particular interest in the kosmos: a non-human universe that was hypothetically ordered and orderly. The way to study it was through historia: empirical enquiry or research.

Science

The results they came up with were hardly what we would call scientific. That was left for the doctors of the school of medicine, founded by Hippocrates in the fifth century BC on the east Aegean island of Kos; and the astronomers attached to the museum and library of Alexandria in Egypt in the third century BC. The latter spawned intellectual giants such as Eratosthenes from Cyrene in today's Libya, who successfully measured the Earth's circumference to within a small margin of error.

Despite these giant steps, it is important to remember that most ordinary Greeks were not persuaded to adopt a rationalist, non-theistic world outlook, nor were they always tolerant of the eccentric intellectuals they harboured in their midst – especially not at times of great societal crisis such as the Peloponnesian War (431–404BC). A case in point was the trial and execution of Socrates at Athens, by a democratic jury of 501 mostly "ordinary" Athenian citizens, in 399BC.

Socrates was convicted of "introducing brand-new, publicly unrecognised divinities" without the Athenian people's say-so, and of "corrupting the young". Both charges carried particular weight in the fraught circumstances of 399BC: this was just a few years after the Athenians' total defeat in the Peloponnesian war by Sparta, an enemy that prided itself on its conservative traditionalism in all matters concerning the gods. That its oligarchic junta had done to death many hundreds of ordinary Athenians was still fresh in the memory. The trial of Socrates and its outcome should remind us that democratic Athens, despite being a relatively open society, was no liberal paradise of principled religious tolerance.

Economics

Socrates is the main participant in a fictional dialogue composed by the versatile Athenian historian Xenophon (c428-355BC), entitled (in Latin transliteration) Oeconomicus. Yet "economics" in our sense is not what the discourse is about, but rather the management of an oikos or "household".

The Greeks "did" economics, practically speaking, but they did not theorise it as we do. This was partly because they did not develop a suitable macro-economic technical vocabulary but also because, like their politics and religion, their economic realities were very different from those of a capitalist, let alone a globalised, economy. Most Greeks lived on and from the land. This is not to deny that local, regional and international trading networks could be crucially important, not least when the commodity being traded was a life-giving staple such as grain. But as much as 80% of the typical population of a typical polis were employed in peasant-style, non-market-oriented agriculture, working to satisfy needs rather than maximise profit.

Women and slaves

Women, whose public valuation by men was often distressingly low, were economically crucial within the household, where they processed food, produced children and clothing, and managed the free or unfree workforce.

The modern Greek term for housewife, noikokyra ("lady of the household") had its ancient counterpart, especially in Sparta, where women vied not just to control but to own more than one household property. Elsewhere in Greece, women's property rights were severely limited. Indeed, it wouldn't have been uncommon for a wealthy Greek house-lord to think of his womenfolk as little better than the chattel slaves he owned. Ordinary Greeks, of course, might not have had the luxury of owning even a single slave, greatly desirable though that was thought to be.

Most slaves were individually and privately owned, having been bought on the market as commodities. But some slaves – such as the gaolers of Socrates – were public servants. At Athens, there was an exceptional concentration of slave worker personnel in the state-owned silver mines, who were economically vital: the product of their labours paid for Athens' navy and a wide variety of other public and political services.

In Sparta they managed their servile system very differently. Although there were some chattel-type (privately owned) slaves, the dominant form of servitude here was a kind of collective serfdom, known as helotage. And whereas most chattel slaves were dispossessed, non-Greek foreigners, the Helots were born into inherited bondage: this, perhaps, a final reminder of just how alien ancient Greece can be, for all its status as one of the fountainheads of western civilisation.

Paul Cartledge is AG Leventis Professor of Greek culture at Cambridge University and the author of several books, most recently Ancient Greece: A History in Eleven Cities (Oxford University Press)

Looking over the modern world and all its proliferating works, one may note a strange fact: even when a cliché is easily recognized as such, the recognition only rarely issues in a vigilance against the lazy thinking behind the cliché. Men will chuckle at the folly indicated by the cliché, and then race off in unthinking confidence, impelled by that very thinking. So we find folks who pronounce solemnly that “you can’t legislate morality,” cheering in joyous triumphalism when a judge legislates a very strident sort of morality on the matter of gay marriage. Or we discover scholars whose minds are full of slogans about the dangers of concentrated power shrugging insouciantly about the extraordinary concentration of the power in finance capitalism. (In 1950, finance accounted for some 10% of American business profits; by 2005 that number had quadrupled. It would be difficult to locate a starker indication of concentration than that.)

So whenever you hear someone piously repeat a cliché, even a very wise cliché, there is probably good cause to suspect that his mind remains under the spell of error indicated by the cliché.

Modern men will say, with solemn faces, that generals are always “fighting the last war,” precisely as they go about thinking with ironclad consistency about . . . fighting the last war. Now the “last war” for almost all modern men is what has been called Total War: democratic army arrayed against democratic army, nation in arms against nation, whole societies mobilized and on the march in a clash to the bitter end, as in the war that still bulks biggest in our minds, the Second World War.

But our war today is not total war, it is not democratic war; it is not even, for the most part, a war of army against army; and my informed guess is that we may never again see a total war of that sort. Our enemy certainly does not think in terms of Western Total War, and it is high time that we heeded our own cliché and started thinking about the war we’re in.

The plain pulverizing fact is that our war is religious war. It matters not one lick how much our modern mind recoils from this; it matters not one lick that Liberalism barely even has the vocabulary to talk about it, and will react with blind fury against most anyone who does want to talk about it. Nor, indeed, does it matter how fervently we might wish things were otherwise: the simple fact is that when an organized force of cunning men is making religious war against you, you are in a religious war. The impetus of our enemy lies neither in his skill at arms, nor even in his anger at us, but in the details of his religious doctrine. He fights because he believes divine instruction compels it.

Total war hurls whole armies of galvanized nations against each other in horrifying calamities. Ours is not that sort of war. We are not likely to see great clashes of uniformed men, much less whole societies organized by command economy to wartime fervor. Our war lacks that kind of centralized organization, or at least it lacks that on the part of the aggressor side of the war, which must always be the side with the initiative.

But there is a secondary characteristic of our war that is very much unlike the sort of war that our age still recalls most vividly as the last war. Our war is one of skirmish and symbolism. Because the doctrine is permanent, the discharge of the duty it enjoins is undertaken languidly, irregularly, circumstantially. Our enemy’s planning does not contemplate set-piece battles but rather shocking raids that baffle and demoralize. He will give us (if he can help it) no opportunity for a Gettysburg, much less an Appomattox.

The appeal to the Jihadist is not usually for one gigantic clash of men and materiel that decides the thing. The symbolic raid figures far more prominently in this appeal. It is an appeal designed to attract the pirate or brigand, not the formal soldier. If you are inspired against the imposture of the infidel, or more likely embittered against him — sure, go ahead learn your purity at war. Adventurism and conquest, naked plunder and rapine: the bloody work of the gangster is blessed by way of the romance of throwing off the infidel oppression. The mercenary is empowered. As a result the aggressor is opportunistic, uncoordinated, and predatory. He combines patience and pragmatism with anarchic decentralization.

He also thinks according to a far longer time horizon than any total war can contemplate. The 21st century American has little history that he cares much about; the 21st century Jihadist has abundant history that he cares about, even unto death and mayhem. His mind is simply more historically grounded, and (for example) he thinks it a fact of no small significance that, absent some intervening event of great consequence, Europe will be, in a couple generations, more Muslim than Christian. (At which point, ominously for us, his raids may make use of a much richer storehouse of capital and machinery. This we have seen before, for instance when the Turks made abundant use, in the most ruthless manner imaginable, of all the rich capital, both human and inanimate, of the Greek Near East, to harass and reduce the Latin West.)

From all this it follows that any analysis of the Jihad that takes its bearings from Total War of the 20th century is mistaken from the get-go. It is not pleasant to reflect on how profoundly our thinking on these matters has been fettered by the legacy of the last war.

* * *

Take a moment to watch this rather riveting interview of a radical Islamic cleric in the UK:

For those unable to watch video, in it Anjem Choudary dilates at length on various subjects dear to his Jihadist heart. He is so brazen that Eliot Spitzer ends up declaring that, based on the conversation which just unfolded, Choudary should be arrested and imprisoned on terrorism charges.

Now here is a man who understands the business of the war he’s waging. He treats the interview as another skirmish in this war. His brazenness is simply a function of his supreme confidence in (a) the justice of his cause and (b) the bewilderment and discontent of his enemy.

Now supreme confidence can be a magnetic thing. The amiable and engaging fanatic, in the teeth of rational expectations, often manages to acquire power and influence. This is in part because we cannot help but be drawn to the man who knows what he is about and is prepared to face the consequences of it; a fortiori when what he is about is the ruin and suppression of an aging, rickety system like ours.

Because most of the elites of the West are so relentlessly secular, they are blind to the real appeal of any religious faith that demands more than mere Kumbaya squishiness. They do not comprehend the joy and liberty to be found in willing submission to truth and justice. The basic narcissism of the late modern West is a crippling handicap to our understanding.

A truly disciplined faith — one that takes its bearings not from sentiment or sensuous desire but from obligations we cannot but owe to God — is therefore utterly alien to the bulk of Western leadership. This blindness is all the more debilitating in a commercial society that has come to imagine that self-interest directs the affairs of men.

In a word, much of the structure of modern Western thinking prevents us from understanding our enemy; and more perilously, prevents us from understanding that his evangel is an old and insidious one, proven in its effectiveness over the centuries at producing both converts to its cause and cowering sycophants among its opponents.

Fortunately, there are some simple means of reformation. One is to take the enemy seriously and learn what he is about. This is more difficult than it appears, given that we live in a society where few things are taken seriously, least of all religion. Imagine someone appearing on Jon Stewart or Stephen Colbert’s show to explain the details of the Jihad. The whole thing would be a joke. Now, I am not averse to jeering at our enemies now and then; but when that displaces the more vital work of understanding, we have shirked a high responsibility.

Another means of reformation is to learn your history from writers not debased by modernity. Modern writing on Islam (with some honorable exceptions) is sunk in self-loathing and the allure of Otherness; more debilitating still is its misunderstanding of the religious impulse in man. You need not bury yourself in ancient texts and translations (though some of that is necessary); Belloc and Chesterton will do nicely. Even Churchill wrote incisively on the Jihad. John Quincy Adams set down some lines of shrewd analysis, comparing Christian to Islamic dogma, that possess the power to open many eyes. There are passages in Burckhardt, brilliant little asides concerning, say, the treachery of Italian princes who sold their people into Islamic despotism, which will illumine the subject more effectively than a whole bookshelf of today’s proto-dhimmis. Andy Bostom has compiled two volumes of original documents that are indispensible.

Yet another means of mental reformation is to get over your incorrigible bias against Eastern Orthodoxy. That you are probably not even aware of this bias is no excuse. The hatred and contempt that that old heathen Gibbon insinuated into the West against Byzantium is really a thing to behold. Rarely has one man accomplished so thorough a calumny of an entire civilization. The drama of the fall of the Eastern Roman Empire, mostly abandoned by West, is a story that should ring down with searing emotion to us today. I have written about this elsewhere. The late historian Steven Runciman’s short book on the fall of Constantinople can be read in one sitting; he was no blind apologist for Orthodoxy, but he tells his tale with power and grace.

Finally, probably nothing is more important than to set aside Liberalism. It is no exaggeration to say that Liberalism makes idiots of us all on this subject. Nor should we have any illusions about how thoroughly Liberalism has penetrated the American Right, especially on matters of economics. Capitalism will not save us. It is much more likely that Capitalism will simply arm our enemies with more fearsome weapons. Islamic money is as good as any other. The Saudis have used their wealth to fund countless Jihadists propaganda organs. General Electric recently began pricing Islamic bonds. The early modern picture of man as moved primarily by self-interest in the economic sense is no less sightless about religious motives than the late modern one.

There is much more than could be said, but I will leave it at that, lest I try the reader’s patience. The hour is late and our thinking is thoroughly muddled. The only remedy is to work hard to gain clarity. Once armed with clarity, we can properly formulate our response to the Jihad.

Review by Bill Doughty

Wired For War is P.W. Singer’s big wave-catching guidebook to the tsunami of change, subtitled as The Robotic Revolution and Conflict in the 21st Century. Part history, part current state of the art, and all philosophy, his book balances ancient storytelling, futuristic thinking and current ethics.

Are we on the verge of a Singularity, a revolution in military affairs (not to mention social/human reality) not seen since the discovery of gunpowder or invention of the steam engine?

What will refinement of robots and nanotechnology mean for our military and society in decades ahead?

Nearly five centuries ago, an emperor of the Incan Empire, Atahuallpa, confronted Pizarro and Spanish Conquistadors in what is now Peru -- the first encounter with swords, armor and cavalry. It was, “a powerful example of just how shocking and powerful new weapons of war can be.”

Sir Winston Churchill, featured in our previous blog post, discussed the paradigm shift of new technology. He saw Edison’s and Tesla’s inventions applied to warfare and predicted the future widespread use of drones.

Singer leads Chapter 2 with this quote from Sir Winston: “The further backward you look, the further forward you can see.”

Churchill, who embraced the advent of aviation in warfare, would no doubt appreciate the evolution of asymmetrical warfare, UAVs and development of the Predator, Raven, PackBot, Ro-Bart, Wasp, REMUS, Zeus, Robo-Lobster, Cormorant, as well as other systems and machines explained by Singer in Wired For War.

Other people, however, find it hard to predict, let alone come to terms with, fundamental shifts in technology.

That’s not new.

Singer reminds us what the New York Times said 107 years ago this month, on Oct. 9, 1903, inaccurately predicting human flight:

“The flying machine which will really fly might be evolved by the combined and continuous efforts of mathematicians and mechanicians in from one million to ten million years.”

That same day the Wright Brothers, owners of a bicycle shop in Ohio, began assembling their first airplane -- just seven years before the beginning of the Centennial of Naval Aviation.

Singer shows how the “Dennymite” became the first unmanned plane in history immediately after the Dec. 7, 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor. Its inventor, Reginald Denny, provided work for Norma Jeane Dougherty -- the future Marilyn Monroe -- who was discovered at a factory where she worked spraying Denny’s drones with fire retardant.

I never intended to become a Stoic. Who, after all, were the Stoics? They were those grim, wooden figures of ancient Greece and Rome whose goal it was to stand mutely and take whatever the world could throw at them. Right?

About a decade ago, though, I began a research project on human desire. The goal of the project was to write a book on the subject, but I also had a hidden agenda in conducting my research: I was contemplating becoming a Zen Buddhist and wanted to learn more about it before taking the leap. But the more I learned about Zen, the less it attracted me.

Practicing Zen would require me to suppress my analytical abilities, something I found it quite difficult to do. Another off-putting aspect of Zen was that the moment of enlightenment it dangled before its practitioners was by no means guaranteed. Practice Zen for decades and you might achieve enlightenment -- or you might not. It would be tragic, I thought, to spend the remaining decades of my life pursuing a moment of enlightenment that never came. Zen doubtless works for some people, but for me, the fit wasn't good.

Then something quite unexpected happened. As part of my research, I investigated what ancient philosophers had to say about desire. Among them were the Stoic philosophers -- people like Marcus Aurelius, Seneca, and Epictetus -- about whom I knew little. As I read them, I discovered that they were quite unlike I imagined they would be. Indeed, it soon became apparent that everything I "knew" about the Stoics was wrong. They were neither grim nor wooden. If anything, the adjective that I thought described them best was "buoyant" or maybe even "cheerful." And without consciously intending to do so, I found myself experimenting with Stoic strategies for daily living.

Thus, when I found myself in a predicament -- being stuck in traffic, for example -- I followed the advice of Epictetus and asked myself what aspects of the situation I could and couldn't control. I couldn't control what the other cars did, so it was pointless -- was in fact counterproductive -- for me to get angry at them. My energy was much better spent focusing on things I could control, with the most important being how I responded to the situation. In particular, I could employ Stoic strategies to prevent the incident from spoiling my day.

I also started making use of the Stoic technique known as negative visualization: I would periodically contemplate the loss of the things and people that mean the most to me. Thus, when parting from a friend, I might make a mental note that this could conceivably be the last time I would see the friend in question. Friendships do end, after all, and people die suddenly. Doing this sort of thing may seem morbid, but the practice of negative visualization is a powerful antidote to a phenomenon that will otherwise deprive us of much of the happiness we could be enjoying: negative visualization prevents us from taking for granted the world around us and the people in it.

When they hear about negative visualization, people often get the wrong idea. They think the Stoics advocate that we spend our days dwelling on all the bad things that can happen to us. This, of course, would be a recipe for a miserable existence. What the Stoics in fact advocate is not that we dwell on bad things but that we contemplate them, a subtle but important difference. They also recommend that we engage in negative visualization not constantly but only a few times each day and for only a few seconds each time. Our negative visualizations, then, will take the form of fleeting thoughts.

Visualizing in this manner has the effect of resetting the baseline against which we measure our happiness, and it can have a profound and immediate effect on that happiness. As the result of negatively visualizing, we might find ourselves taking delight that we still possess the things that only moments before, we took for granted, including our job, our spouse, our health -- indeed, our very existence.

One of my favorite visualization exercises involves the sky. When I see it, I periodically remind myself that the sky didn't have to be blue. But on most days it is blue, and a gorgeous blue, the hue of which changes subtly from hour to hour. Then I reflect on how wonderful it is that we inhabit a universe that can, on a nearly daily basis, present us with such a spectacle. A simple exercise, to be sure, and some would say a silly one. But if you can learn to appreciate the sky -- something most people take utterly for granted -- there is a good chance that you can learn to appreciate your life as well and thereby enjoy a happier existence than would otherwise be the case.

I mentioned above that the benefits to be derived from practicing Zen are uncertain. Stoicism, by way of contrast, does not dangle before its adherents a moment -- maybe -- of life-transforming enlightenment. Instead, it provides a body of advice for them to follow and a set of strategies for them to employ in everyday life. The strategies in question are easy to use. (Indeed, I suspect that many of the readers of this essay have already, in the last few seconds, successfully attempted negative visualization.) That said, I should add that it takes rather longer to internalize Stoic advice and strategies so that one's response to the events of daily living becomes reflexively Stoical, at which point one can truly claim to be a Stoic.

My experiments with Stoicism were sufficiently encouraging that I abandoned my plans to become a Zen Buddhist and decided instead to follow in the footsteps of Zeno of Citium, the Greek who formulated Stoicism in about 300 B.C. I decided, in other words, to become a walking, talking anachronism: I would attempt to transform myself into a twenty-first century Stoic. My goal in the essays in this series is to describe some aspects of this transformation.

Most people, of course, would think of Zen Buddhism and Stoicism as being polar opposites, philosophically speaking, but that is because people tend to be, as I was, woefully ignorant of what Stoicism is. One of the most surprising things that came out of my research was how much Zen and Stoicism have in common.

They both advocate taking what Buddha referred to as "the middle path." Buddha lived a life of luxury in a palace but was not fulfilled by that life. He abandoned the palace to live a life of extreme asceticism but again did not find fulfillment. It was then that he experienced his moment of enlightenment. The wise person, Buddha concluded, will not shun pleasure; at the same time, he will keep firmly in mind how easy it is to become enslaved by it. He will therefore be guarded in his enjoyment of pleasure.

The Stoics likewise advocated taking the middle path. Zeno of Citium began his philosophical education by practicing Cynicism, the ancient philosophy that advocated an ascetic lifestyle. The ancient Cynics (including Diogenes of Sinope and Zeno's teacher Crates) lived on the street and owned only the clothing that they wore. Zeno abandoned Cynicism in part because he rejected its asceticism. In the Stoic philosophy he formulated, we are told that there is nothing wrong with enjoying life's pleasures, as long as we are careful not to allow ourselves to be enslaved by them and as long as, even while we are enjoying them, we take steps to prepare ourselves ultimately to be deprived of them.

Offer a Stoic a glass of fine champagne, and he probably won't refuse it; as he drinks it, though, he might reflect on the possibility that this will be the last time he drinks champagne, a reflection, by the way, that will dramatically enhance his enjoyment of the moment. Then again, offer a Stoic a glass of water, and he might go through the same thought processes with the same result.

In having "last time" thoughts (which, by the way, are a form of negative visualization), a Stoic is behaving rather like a Buddhist. Both Stoics and Buddhists think it important, if we are to have a good life, that we recognize the transient nature of human existence, and both advise us periodically to contemplate impermanence. This is what Stoics are doing when they reflect on the fact that since we are mortal, there will be a last time for each of the things we do in life. Thus, there will be a last time you drink champagne -- or water, for that matter. There will be a last time you touch the face of another human being. There will even be a last time you utter the word "forever."

Along similar lines, both Zen Buddhists and Stoics think it important for us to strive to stay "in the moment." People tend to spend their days and consequently their lives as well dwelling on things that happened in past moments and worrying about things that will happen in future moments. As a result, there is little time left for them to savor the moment they currently are living. If we are to have a good life, it is important, says Stoic Marcus Aurelius, for us to keep in mind that "man lives only in the present, in this fleeting instant."

For one last parallel between Buddhism and Stoicism, consider again the above-described blue-sky exercise. As a Stoic, I had practiced this exercise for years before I became aware of the work of Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh. It turns out that Buddhists, in their practice of mindfulness, employ a similar exercise: see this video.

On adopting Stoicism, I discovered how much the world has changed since the philosophy was first formulated. Back then, if you told someone you were a practicing Stoic, they would have understood what you meant. In ancient Greece and Rome, it was common for people in the upper classes to adopt a philosophy of life; indeed, parents sent their sons to schools of philosophy (prominent among which were the Stoic, the Epicurean, and the Academic schools) in part to acquire such a philosophy.

Tell modern individuals that you are a practicing Stoic, though, and they are likely to be puzzled. "Is it some kind of religion?" they will ask.

My standard response: "No. Religions generally concern themselves with the afterlife; philosophies of life such as Stoicism concern themselves with daily life. They teach us what things in life are most valuable and how best to attain them."

This response is likely to give rise to a new question: "And just what did the Stoics think was valuable?" My response: "Not what most people think is valuable -- namely, fame and fortune. To the contrary, the Stoics (and in particular the Roman Stoics) valued tranquillity, and by tranquillity they had in mind not the kind of numbness that can be attained by downing a third martini, but instead the absence of negative emotions, such as anger, anxiety, grief, and fear, from their life. They had nothing against positive emotions, though, including that most positive of emotions, joy. The Stoics were also confident that people who exchange their tranquillity for fame and fortune have made a foolish bargain."

This, by the way, is yet another point of agreement between Zen and Stoicism: both philosophies of life point to tranquillity as the thing in life most worth attaining. But wait a minute, if Zen and Stoicism share the same goal in living, namely, the attainment of tranquillity, won't they count as the same philosophy of life?

No, because although they share this goal, they offer different advice on how to attain it. Thus, a Zen Buddhist might advise those wishing to attain tranquillity to spend hours each day trying to empty their mind of all thought. And when they are not doing this, they should spend time trying to solve koans, those paradoxical questions, the most famous of which is "What is the sound of one hand clapping?"

The Stoics, by way of contrast, would recommend neither of these activities. Your time would be much better spent, they would suggest, analyzing what it is in your daily life that disrupts your tranquillity and thinking about what you can do to prevent such disruptions. And to aid you in your thinking, the Stoics would go on to suggest that you take a look at the writings of Seneca, Marcus Aurelius, and Epictetus. There you will find much advice on how to deal with insults, how to overcome grief, how to avoid getting angry, how to take delight in the world you inhabit, and so forth.

At this point, my introduction-to-Stoicism conversation sometimes turns ugly. The conversation can cause the other person to realize that he has never taken time to think about the "grand goal of living;" instead, his attention has been focused on the short-term goals of daily life, such as getting a promotion at work or acquiring an even-wider-screen television. Or, even worse, the conversation can put the person on the defensive. If he routinely spends his days exchanging his tranquillity for a (quite possibly unsuccessful) shot at the acquisition of fame and fortune, he will not take kindly to my "foolish bargain" comment.

In either case, he might resent what he will construe as an attempt by me to impose my values on him, and his resentment might be expressed indirectly, by ridiculing Stoicism. It is, to be sure, easy to avoid this ridicule: if you decide to give Stoicism a try as your philosophy of life, I suggest that you keep your plans to yourself and practice what I call stealth Stoicism. This is what I would have done had I not taken it on myself to become a twenty-first century Stoic teacher.

This, in a nutshell, is what Stoicism is and why I found myself drawn to it. I hope that if I have accomplished anything in this essay, I have persuaded readers that the ancient Stoics were not stoical in the modern sense of the word -- they were not, as the dictionary puts it, "seemingly indifferent to or unaffected by joy, grief, pleasure, or pain." Indeed, the phrase joyful Stoic is not the oxymoron it might seem to be.

©2010, William B. Irvine

In my next "Twenty-first Century Stoic" essay, I will expose readers to one specific piece of Stoic advice on daily living: how best to respond to insults. As we shall see, they advocated that we respond not with counter-insults but with silence -- or, if we must say something, by insulting ourselves even worse than our insulter did. Strange advice, I know, but in my practice of Stoicism I have tried it and found it to be remarkably effective.

He was condemned to death for telling the ancient Greeks things they didn't want to hear, but his views on consumerism and trial by media are just as relevant today

Two thousand four hundred years ago, one man tried to discover the meaning of life. His search was so radical, charismatic and counterintuitive that he become famous throughout the Mediterranean. Men – particularly young men – flocked to hear him speak. Some were inspired to imitate his ascetic habits. They wore their hair long, their feet bare, their cloaks torn. He charmed a city; soldiers, prostitutes, merchants, aristocrats – all would come to listen. As Cicero eloquently put it, "He brought philosophy down from the skies."

For close on half a century this man was allowed to philosophise unhindered on the streets of his hometown. But then things started to turn ugly. His glittering city-state suffered horribly in foreign and civil wars. The economy crashed; year in, year out, men came home dead; the population starved; the political landscape was turned upside down. And suddenly the philosopher's bright ideas, his eternal questions, his eccentric ways, started to jar. And so, on a spring morning in 399BC, the first democratic court in the story of mankind summoned the 70-year-old philosopher to the dock on two charges: disrespecting the city's traditional gods and corrupting the young. The accused was found guilty. His punishment: state-sponsored suicide, courtesy of a measure of hemlock poison in his prison cell.

The man was Socrates, the philosopher from ancient Athens and arguably the true father of western thought. Not bad, given his humble origins. The son of a stonemason, born around 469BC, Socrates was famously odd. In a city that made a cult of physical beauty (an exquisite face was thought to reveal an inner nobility of spirit) the philosopher was disturbingly ugly. Socrates had a pot-belly, a weird walk, swivelling eyes and hairy hands. As he grew up in a suburb of Athens, the city seethed with creativity – he witnessed the Greek miracle at first-hand. But when poverty-striken Socrates (he taught in the streets for free) strode through the city's central marketplace, he would harrumph provocatively, "How many things I don't need!"

Whereas all religion was public in Athens, Socrates seemed to enjoy a peculiar kind of private piety, relying on what he called his "daimonion", his "inner voice". This "demon" would come to him during strange episodes when the philosopher stood still, staring for hours. We think now he probably suffered from catalepsy, a nervous condition that causes muscular rigidity.

Putting aside his unshakable position in the global roll-call of civilisation's great and good, why should we care about this curious, clever, condemned Greek? Quite simply because Socrates's problems were our own. He lived in a city-state that was for the first time working out what role true democracy should play in human society. His hometown – successful, cash-rich – was in danger of being swamped by its own vigorous quest for beautiful objects, new experiences, foreign coins.

The philosopher also lived through (and fought in) debilitating wars, declared under the banner of demos-kratia – people power, democracy. The Peloponnesian conflict of the fifth century against Sparta and her allies was criticised by many contemporaries as being "without just cause". Although some in the region willingly took up this new idea of democratic politics, others were forced by Athens to love it at the point of a sword. Socrates questioned such blind obedience to an ideology. "What is the point," he asked, "of walls and warships and glittering statues if the men who build them are not happy?" What is the reason for living life, other than to love it?

For Socrates, the pursuit of knowledge was as essential as the air we breathe. Rather than a brainiac grey-beard, we should think of him as his contemporaries knew him: a bustling, energetic, wine-swilling, man-loving, vigorous, pug-nosed, sword-bearing war-veteran: a citizen of the world, a man of the streets.

According to his biographers Plato and Xenophon, Socrates did not just search for the meaning of life, but the meaning of our own lives. He asked fundamental questions of human existence. What makes us happy? What makes us good? What is virtue? What is love? What is fear? How should we best live our lives? Socrates saw the problems of the modern world coming; and he would certainly have something to say about how we live today.

He was anxious about the emerging power of the written word over face-to-face contact. The Athenian agora was his teaching room. Here he would jump on unsuspecting passersby, as Xenophon records. "One day Socrates met a young man on the streets of Athens. 'Where can bread be found?' asked the philosopher. The young man responded politely. 'And where can wine be found?' asked Socrates. With the same pleasant manner, the young man told Socrates where to get wine. 'And where can the good and the noble be found?' then asked Socrates. The young man was puzzled and unable to answer. 'Follow me to the streets and learn,' said the philosopher."

Whereas immediate, personal contact helped foster a kind of honesty, Socrates argued that strings of words could be manipulated, particularly when disseminated to a mass market. "You might think words spoke as if they had intelligence, but if you question them they always say only one thing . . . every word . . . when ill-treated or unjustly reviled always needs its father to protect it," he said.

When psychologists today talk of the danger for the next generation of too much keyboard and texting time, Socrates would have flashed one of his infuriating "I told you so" smiles. Our modern passion for fact-collection and box-ticking rather than a deep comprehension of the world around us would have horrified him too. What was the point, he said, of cataloguing the world without loving it? He went further: "Love is the one thing I understand."

The televised election debates earlier this year would also have given pause. Socrates was withering when it came to a polished rhetorical performance. For him a powerful, substanceless argument was a disgusting thing: rhetoric without truth was one of the greatest threats to the "good" society.

Interestingly, the TV debate experiment would have seemed old hat. Public debate and political competition (agon was the Greek word, which gives us our "agony") were the norm in democratic Athens. Every male citizen over the age of 18 was a politician. Each could present himself in the open-air assembly up on the Pnyx to raise issues for discussion or to vote. Through a complicated system of lots, ordinary men might be made the equivalent of heads of state for a year; home secretary or foreign minister for the space of a day. Those who preferred a private to a public life were labelled idiotes (hence our word idiot).

Socrates died when <00ad>Athens "><00ad>Athens ">Golden Age Athens – an ambitious, radical, visionary city-state – had triumphed as a leader of the world, and then over-reached herself and begun to crumble. His unusual personal piety, his guru-like attraction to the young men of the city, suddenly seemed to have a sinister tinge. And although Athens adored the notion of freedom of speech (the city even named one of its warships Parrhesia after the concept), the population had yet to resolve how far freedom of expression ratified a freedom to offend.

Socrates was, I think, a scapegoat for Athens's disappointment. When the city was feeling strong, the quirky philosopher could be tolerated. But, overrun by its enemies, starving, and with the ideology of democracy itself in question, the Athenians took a more fundamentalist view. A confident society can ask questions of itself; when it is fragile, it fears them. Socrates's famous aphorism "the unexamined life is not worth living" was, by the time of his trial, clearly beginning to jar.

After his death, Socrates's ideas had a prodigious impact on both western and eastern civilisation. His influence in Islamic culture is often overlooked – in the Middle East and North Africa, from the 11th century onwards, his ideas were said to refresh and nourish, "like . . . the purest water in the midday heat". Socrates was nominated one of the Seven Pillars of Wisdom, his nickname "The Source". So it seems a shame that, for many, Socrates has become a remote, lofty kind of a figure.

When Socrates finally stood up to face his charges in front of his fellow citizens in a religious court in the Athenian agora, he articulated one of the great pities of human society. "It is not my crimes that will convict me," he said. "But instead, rumour, gossip; the fact that by whispering together you will persuade yourselves that I am guilty." As another Greek author, Hesiod, put it, "Keep away from the gossip of people. For rumour [the Greek pheme, via fama in Latin, gives us our word fame] is an evil thing; by nature she's a light weight to lift up, yes, but heavy to carry and hard to put down again. Rumour never disappears entirely once people have indulged her."

Trial by media, by pheme, has always had a horrible potency. It was a slide in public opinion and the uncertainty of a traumatised age that brought Socrates to the hemlock. Rather than follow the example of his accusers, we should perhaps honour Socrates's exhortation to "know ourselves", to be individually honest, to do what we, not the next man, knows to be right. Not to hide behind the hatred of a herd, the roar of the crowd, but to aim, hard as it might be, towards the "good" life.

The Hemlock Cup: Socrates, Athens and the Search for the Good Life, by Bettany Hughes, is published by Jonathan Cape (rrp £25). To order a copy for £21.99, including free UK mainland p&p;, go to guardian.co.uk/bookshop or call 0330 333 68467

Archaeologist and historian Richard Miles believes our quest for the perfect community is as relevant today as it was in 4500BC

If it is hard to talk of "civilisation" as an ideal to cherish because of the chauvinistic and elitist connotations it carries today, then no one has told Richard Miles. Or rather, it's a term that this 41-year-old archaeologist and historian wants to reclaim. Something of a throwback to another era himself, he has directed archaeological digs in Carthage and Rome, lectured at Cambridge University and now teaches classics at the University of Sydney.

Next month he presents a six-part history series on BBC2 called Ancient Worlds in which he travels to Iraq and beyond in a "Search for the Origins of Western Civilisation", as the subtitle of an accompanying book puts it.

Championing civilisation – it seems an old-fashioned, almost politically incorrect idea. What do you think about that?

Civilisation is a word we only really see nowadays in inverted commas, but it's a useful concept when thinking about history. "Culture" has superseded it in many contexts, but that's such a bloated concept – we've given it so many meanings that it doesn't mean anything much anymore.

So how do you define civilisation?

Civilisation as a term suggests human agency. Things don't come together organically. There are winners and losers – and human will created the world we live in. It is the way in which people have articulated how and why they wanted to live in communities. It's about how we imagine the perfect community. And in terms of western civilisation, it can't be separated from the idea of the city. I think the most ambitious thing humans have ever done is deciding to live together with people whom they didn't know in cities. It's really difficult to build a community, to learn to celebrate difference and to live harmoniously together, and we fail all the time.

The first cities appeared in Mesopotamia in Iraq around 4500BC. Why there?

If you look at Mesopotamia, you've got two big rivers, the Euphrates and the Tigris, running through it, and the surrounding land isn't particularly fertile, but it could be. You've got to harness the power of the river by building irrigation canals, for instance – but you can't do that on an ad hoc basis, so it made sense for people to work together for mutual gain.

People there were very aware of the precariousness of life. There's an idea that as organised religion develops, outside of civilisation and order is nothing but watery chaos.

What is the role of religion here?

In some respects, cities are bottom-up processes, but they are also top-down initiatives – and elites soon develop. Religion is older than the city, but the elites quickly build temples and turn themselves into priests. As they become more powerful the temples they build also have huge storehouses. What you see is that the man who has a surplus of material is the powerful man. This is because everyone is living hand-to-mouth, and if you have a bad harvest one year, well, you're stuffed.

Do we also see the emergence of bureaucracy here?

Writing certainly develops as an elite initiative at this time. It helps them to harness the workforce – it's a way of communicating with the gods; and it's a way for the elites to list what you have, and what they have. As well as liberating you from the everyday worries of being on your own and working your patch of land, the city also subjugates and imprisons you. This is the pay-off, the paradox.

How well can you get inside the mindset of someone from that period?

If you are looking at fine buildings or the literature of the period, you have to be aware that you are only dealing with the mindset of the elite. But archaeology is going to give you some answers. It often acts as a parallel narrative to history: if you start digging with a textbook in your hand, you are soon going to get confused. You have to be comfortable with the idea that there are many different versions of history.

For example, when you're excavating in Carthage, as I have done, you suddenly come across this black tide mark – and that is the destruction layer of the city: 146BC. But inside it has lots of bits of broken pottery. What can that tell you? It can tell you what sort of crockery was in vogue in Carthage in 146BC, and if you know where it comes from, it also tells you who's trading with whom.

Do I know what a peasant on a farm or temple-owned property was thinking in Mesopotamia 4000BC? In Iraq, I've excavated these bevel- rimmed bowls, which archaeologists have found in their thousands. The fact there are so many, and that they appear at the same time, and that they look a bit like ration bowls – that suggests a uniformity, that there's a central authority coming into play, and that people are being forced into particular ways of thinking and doing things.

But in terms of their world view? No. I don't think you can ever get to that.

When we think of western civilisation we think of the ancient Greeks and Romans, but was their contribution so clear-cut?

One of the problems with the concept is that it is pegged as a very imperialistic view of the world in which the Greeks and the Romans were the engines of civilisation. Well, they were important, but these ideas didn't just develop from them. There's a more interesting story involving the Mediterranean and the near east.

You can see the connections between different civilisations formed from trade. The Babylonians were around at the same time as the Greeks, and when they traded, they didn't just take cargo with them, but people and ideas. Boat technology; interest-bearing loans; and, most importantly, the alphabet. The Greek alphabet is derived from the Phoenician alphabet, which comes from the near east.

But why are the Greeks so amazing? Because they took other people's ideas and made them better, as with the alphabet. The Phoenician alphabet was a bit like text language – all consonants. So the Greeks take the alphabet, add vowel sounds and make it expressive, and within 100 years you get the Iliad.

Between the heyday of cities such as Uruk and the rise of the Greeks and Romans, isn't there what you can call a dark age?

The bronze age is a connected world. But it can't sustain itself; it's too rigid, elitist and top-heavy – and civilisation is a bit like a flickering flame. It almost goes out, but in certain places it keeps going and it will spread out again.

In the concept of civilisation, there is an inherent notion that things are always going to get better. I quite clearly break with that; I think of it being more like a heart monitor, zig-zagging up and down. The interesting thing about civilisation is our need to try to develop the perfect community for ourselves, and how we fail, but also how we come back to try again.

Civilisation is like a leap of faith, it's not a godlike exercise in improvement. But there is something in that old-fashioned concept. We shouldn't kid ourselves that we don't think certain advancements are better than others. Within reason, and without being racist or imperialist, as a historian you should make those value judgments, but you need to then back them up.

Can we see in the hordes who travelled to Uruk the same pattern of migration to urban areas in search of a better life that we see in the developing world today? And by that token, do the teeming slums of Mumbai or Lagos represent civilisation?

Yes, they do; and they are imagining the best ways to live together as much as a group of people in Manhattan. And this is something we should celebrate rather than shy away from.

We should treat affronts to our sportist religion, from bribery, drug-taking and other cheating, as lessons in the making

Simon Hattenstone provides an increasingly common and cynical perspective on the moral status of athletics (Sportism: a faith in tatters, 26 September). A confessed "sportist" whose "values were forged on football fields, tennis courts and snooker halls" (as well as in darts tournaments in his family's garage), Hattenstone now finds the "foundations of his existence shaken to the core". Pakistan's cricketers assisting betting syndicates? Insurers not willing to pay bonuses for 147s? Snooker players chucking frames? Boxers snorting coke? Athletes boycotting the Commonwealth Games for fear of discomfort in Delhi? "My sporting faith is in tatters," Hattenstone writes. "I don't know where to look for solace."

A brief history lesson may provide some initial comfort. Sport historians, for example, suggest that some athletes since the dawn of the Olympic Games (circa 776BC) have bribed and intimidated officials (Roman Emperor Nero, for example), cheated and gambled (the "funeral games" in Homer's Iliad provide evidence), and doped themselves (sesame seeds for endurance and hallucinogenic mushrooms for "mental preparation"). Evidence also indicates that some athletes often did other morally questionable actions to "win at all costs" and reap the benefits of government-funded life-long pensions of food and living expenses.

"What kind of madman would not give their best when they were playing football and being paid for it?" Hattenstone asks. Perhaps surprisingly, it is the same type of "madmen" who shredded the sporting faith of some ancient Greek scholars, such as Euripides, who once wrote, "Although there are myriad evils throughout Greece, there is nothing worse than the race of athletes."

The passing of time has not caused those "madmen" to disappear either. Hattenstone's current examples, as well as the doping allegations against this year's Tour de France winner, Alberto Contador, and former seven-time winner Lance Armstrong, continue to provide evidence – although I should note that the first athlete to die from doping was a cyclist in 1886, and that cyclists reportedly took "speed balls" of heroin and cocaine to increase their endurance several years before that. Only a fool would believe that shenanigans of that sort are not still happening today.

Hattenstone should be aware that "lazy gits" and "bad people" exist in sport. But he needs to refocus his angst. I suggest that sportism needs these types of people. Sportists need to stay vigilant. We need to identify the "madmen". We need to label their actions as inappropriate. We need to take action that results in the steering of a morally appropriate course in the future. In short, and while it is not often pleasant, sometimes we need to learn from people who do things the wrong way just as much as we learn from those who do right.

We should not lose faith in sport. Like biblical parables, affronts to our sportist religion are lessons in the making. Throwing in the towel and screaming, "It's all gone to the dogs!" is the easy way out. Just like participation in sport, practice, evaluation and effort are also needed to remain faithful to sport. Hattenstone asks, "What is sport if not sustained discomfort?" As a parishioner in the church of sport, I suggest he gets back into training.

Peter Hopsicker is assistant professor of kinesiology at Penn State Altoona and author of Miracles in Sport: Finding the Ears to Hear and the Eyes to See

pm12@psu.edu

If Europe has one defining cultural characteristic, it is that it has none. This may sound like too neat a paradox, but it’s not that far from the truth. There is not a single state, language, religion or ethnicity that even comes close to dominating the continent as a whole - although at least one in each category at some point in history had the pretension to try (1). Europe's war-torn history demonstrates that such diversity is, well, divisive. The European Union was designed to supersede the continent's internecine past, and its continuing appeal (at least to those European countries still outside the EU) is the degree to which it has succeeded, inaugurating an unprecedented period of peace and prosperity (2).

But that does not imply that cultural diversity has been neutralised. The EU, lacking a unifying cultural paradigm similar to the US's 'melting pot', has ended up celebrating a rather bland version of multiculturalism. One example: the buildings on the euro notes are imaginary, in part to avoid fueling national chauvinisms, either of the slighted or boasting variety.

This lowest-common-denominator kind of multiculturalism might actually be the least bad solution. In the kaleidoscope of cultures that is Europe, no matter from where you look at it, you're always surrounded by 'the Other'. It takes but a few small steps thence to paranoia, xenophobia, and worse. I remember speaking to a European about the neighbouring ethnicity, literally living up the road. "Oh yes, but they're all racists," she said, apparently undefeated by her own logic.

Another solution to dealing with the potential divisiveness of diversity, and if done in good humour at least a lot funnier, is the great European Shouting Match. Let it all hang out! Air that mistrust! Calling each other names establishes three things:

(1) that nobody is exempt, neither from feeling superior to others nor from being looked down upon by others. At least in this, everybody is equal. In the Republic of Mockery, we are all both givers and takers.

(2) that familiarity breeds contempt. Most often, the deepest disdain is reserved for the closest neighbours, from whom distant strangers would have a hard time distinguishing us. Inversely, those distant and/or obscure members of the European family are damned with faint put-downs of the who-the-heck-are-they-variant.

(3) that the sum of these insults says equally much about the nationality doing the shouting, or at least the perception we have of them: Germans are materialistic and utilitarian, the French still dream of la gloire, the British cherish their splendid isolation, etc.

The last map in the order as they are shown here seems to have been created by in June 2009 Yanko Tsvetkov to accompany an editorial in the Süddeutsche Zeitung, the others apparently are variations on that same theme by the Bulgarian-born, London-based designer of the first one. Some of these maps also recently featured in the Daily Mail, at which point they appear to have gone viral, as testified by the large number of readers sending them in (see below). Even though a grain of truth might be mixed in with some of the descriptions on the maps, this blog in no way endorses any of the sentiments they express (3).

 

Europe seen by the Germans

 

 

Quite insidiously, the colour toning of this map binds Germany to its linguistically related neighbours, i.e. Luxembourg, Switzerland and Austria. Since World War Two, any such hint at territorial ambitions beyond the borders of the Bundesrepublik is a definite nein-nein. The Swiss are labelled Schokolade ('chocolate'), the Austrians Schnitzelreich ('escalope empire'). Reducing other countries to their (perceived) national dish is a very ancient type of put-down (compare the age-old French moniker for the English: les rosbif). Another colour tone difference, this time in Germany itself, is between the former West and East Germanies, the former labelled Sparkasse ('savings bank'), the other called Proletariat. It reflects the fading, but still powerful division between the prosperous west and the poorer former German Democratic Republic in the east, which has been the beneficiary of billions of euros of government support after Unification in 1990.

Other examples of the culinary dismissive jibe include Belgium ('waffles'), Hungary ('goulash'), Poland ('vegetables'), Ireland ('whiskey') and Bulgaria ('schnapps'). Russia is simply seen as a gas vault, the Ukraine and Belarus as 'gas transit land'. A crude portrayal perhaps, but not far from the larger, geopolitical truth. Russia is the largest single supplier of natural gas to Europe. Former German chancellor Gerhard Schroeder now sits on the board of Nord Stream, a company piping Russian gas into Europe.

Apart from eating and heating, Germans are also shown to be quite obsessed with Freizeit ('holiday' marked across Slovenia and Croatia, 'cheap hotels here' in Greece and Spain, its islands transformed in 'Balearic Germany'). Italy's label 'pizza and museums' acknowledges that country's culinary and cultural attractions. The Czech republic and Slovakia are referred to merely by the names of their capital cities (Prague and Bratislava), perhaps to reflect their popularity as a citytrip destinations.

Most of former Yugoslavia is labelled 'uncharted', while Turkey is reduced to its role as 'workforce source' (there are about 4 million Turkish Gastarbeiter and their descendants living in Germany). Of all the other labels, two stick out: 'Enigma code breakers' (UK) and 'old neighbours' (the Baltics) - two oblique references to the Second World War, the former suggesting some residual resentment, the latter a form of nostalgia. The rather neutral depicition of France as Eiffelreich ('empire of [Gustave] Eiffel, he of the Eiffel Tower) on the other hand reflects the non-animosity between France and Germany that has become the cornerstone of European good neighbourliness and integration.

 

Europe seen by the Italians

 

 

The Italian view of the European continent is alternately ignorant and harsh, with Eastern Europe dismissed as dominated by 'porn stars' (Hungary; no doubt a reference to La Cicciolina), 'thieves' (Romania), 'babysitters' (Bulgaria), 'women with braided hair' (Ukraine) and 'Other Slavs' (Slovakia). Other latin countries are merely seen as extensions of Italy (France is the 'Bruni Empire', Spain is full of 'Italian dialects') or of other countries (Portugal is 'Brazil'). The British Islands are reduced to popular sports ('Rugby' for Ireland and 'Wembley Stadium', the home of soccer, for the UK). Switzerland is the land of '(cuckoo) clocks', while the Germans pay for their reputation as hard workers with the put-down 'clock addicts'. Poland still is the land of Karol Woytila, the previous Pope, while Russia, again, is nothing more but a source of natural gas. Turkey is the land not of guest workers but of belly dancers.

Just like Germany, Italy itself is also split in two, also reflecting a dichotomy between a richer half (in this case the north) and a poorer half (the south, labelled 'Ethiopia' - Sicily is even called 'Somalia').

 

Europe seen by the Bulgarians

 

 

From a Bulgarian perspective, Russia is not the land of natural gas, but of natural alliances (i.e. 'Big Brother'). Reflecting some theories on the origin and migrations of the Bulgarian people, Ukraine is named their 'Urheimat'. The Serbs next door have earned a reputation as 'loose cannon', while Albania is (expressly?) mislabeled 'Kosovo', and Montenegro 'South Serbia'. Macedonia is called 'Greek Slavs', while the Greeks are 'dish breakers'. Germany and France are reduced to  some of their best-known export products (cars and cheese), while Belgium is seen as the home of the EU, a generous provider of subsidies (hence 'God'). Poland, bizarrely, is the land of 'sexy fembots'.

 

Europe as seen by the French

 

 

France is portrayed as still recovering from its early 19th-century ambitions of dominating the continent. Hence the labelling of both Belgium and Switzerland as 'semi-France', Russia as 'Napoleon's dream', Austria as 'old archenemy' and Portugal als 'English allies'. Other countries are labelled to reflect possible alliances, i.e. Ireland ('catholics'), Romania and Moldova ('poor brothers' and 'poor cousins'). The faintest praise is reserved for the Germans ('best friends' - one can almost hear teeth gnash), while Algeria is still seen with nostalgia: 'France woz here'. Reflecting a political attitude not shared by some other major European powers, France sees Turkey as 'definitely not Europeans'. Hungary for once is not seen as a country of pornstars, but as 'Sarko's land', the ancestral country of  France's president Nicolas Sarkozy.

 

 Europe as seen by gays

 

 

A hilariously different perspective is offered by this map of Europe as seen by the gay community. Sweden for once isn't the land of Volvo, but of trashy dance music (does that include Abba, though?) Catholic Ireland is 'in denial', while Catholic Poland is the 'Bible Belt'. Slovakia and Hungary respectively are the source of 'military porn' and 'non-military porn' (what is it with those Hungarians? Or those Slovakians, for that matter). Not all is well in the 'Federated Holiday States of the Mediterranean', as they are adjacent to the lands of 'straight homos' (Italy), homophobic tribes (most of the Balkan) and 'sexy homophobic men' (Turkey). Even on a gay map, Belgium, the Netherlands and Switzerland are still the countries of waffles, hash and snow, respectively.

 

Europe as seen by the British

 

 

The United Kingdom is famously ambiguous about its European affiliation, let alone about its membership of the European Union. Three elements combine to reinforce Britain's euroskepticism: its geography as an island nation, the legacy of its overseas Empire and its heroic role as the sole holdout against a continent dominated by the Nazis. Margaret Thatcher tried to steer the European Community in the direction of a purely economic alliance of sovereign nations, but the drive towards 'ever closer union' (as mandated by the EU's own founding texts) has proved inexorable - and very ominous, from a British perspective.

Europe is therefore not seen as a collection of states, but as an 'Evil Federated Empire of Europe', producing all kinds of goods that may or may not be good to get into the UK (statues, cake, beer and soup, but also drugs, pest, dirty porn and immigrants). The Russian exiles, outrageously wealthy even for London standards, have given Russia the reputation of 'big spenders'. Iceland, reflecting its dubious role in the recent financial meltdown, is labelled 'Las Vegas'.

 

Europe as seen by the Americans

 

 

This map offers an external, and even more unidimensional perspective on European diversity. Americans apparently still see Russia (and Ukraine, Belarus and Moldova) as thinly veiled communists, and the Scandinavian countries as one big 'socialist union' (it must be a relief for the Danes to be called something other than Vikings, for the Finns not to be reduced to their mobile phone industry and for the Swedes to be linked to something else than Volvo, Ikea or Abba). The Netherlands, soft on drugs, are 'Sodom', the Iberian peninsula is dominated by Brazil and Mexico, Italy is simply 'godfathers' country, France is full of 'smelly people' and the UK is affectionately called 'mummy'. Ex-Yugoslavia is 'resident evil', while Turkey is 'thanksgiving dinner'.

 

European stereotypes, a composite map

 

 

This map seems to be a composite of European stereotypes. Nobody is left out. The EU, in view of its massive agricultural budget, is seen as the 'Union of Subsidized Farmers', Russia is a 'Paranoid Oil Empire', Ukraine is a country of 'gas stealers' and Norway (outside of the EU because independently wealthy) is 'Selfish Fisherman Land'.

 

Many thanks to all those who sent in these maps: Anthony Argyriou, Kevin Axe, Michael B, Roel Damiaans, Jóhannes Birgir Jensson, Patrick Chevallier, Stefano Cirolini, David Clarke, Patrick Dea, Kathi Dubach, Vincent Frietman, William Grewe-Mullins, Lars Haefner, Lee Jones, Charlie Kaupp, Christine Lohr, Katrien Luyten de Zurrita, Jim Mannheim, Alex Meerovich, Benjamin Miller, Kasper Nijhoff, Ivan Plis, Maria Popova, The Brigand’s Republic, Fabian Schmidt, Mikael Schulman, Tom Schuring, Teddy Sherrill, Marcin Siehankiewicz, Tobi, Jon Worth.

 

The maps can be seen in their original context at [this page] on Mr Tsvetkov's website Alphadesigner.

 

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(1) Examples? Off the top of my head, and in corresponding order: the Soviet Union, French, catholicism, the so-called 'Aryan' race. These examples are of course non-limitative and debatable (esp. in the case of religion, where it could be argued that Europe was/is overwhelmingly christian, but also that the devastating wars between its sects suggest otherwise).

 

(2) No armed conflict has ever been fought between member states of the EU (or its predecessor, the European Economic Community). On the other hand, the organisation has proved embarrasingly powerless to stop armed conflict in its own backyard - the Yugoslav wars in the mid-1990s ended only through US-led NATO intervention.

 

(3) Except where they pertain to Icelanders, those credit-crunching, volcano-firing, cod-hogging, elf-worshiping, Bjork-exporting bastards.

 

By Carl S ~

You know me. But you really don’t. You may know Jesus, but not me; how this is so, I can’t figure. You might wonder why I, as an atheist, am happy, whereas you hear from members in the congregation, some often, who obviously aren’t happy. In fact, I’m happier than I’ve ever been before in my life, which includes the former Christian part – and that’s without gods, including yours. It might perplex and challenge your beliefs and traditions to know that one of the main reasons why I am so happy is because I don’t have or need gods.

There’s a conversation from ancient Greece which will give you a hint of where I stand: A slave asks a Greek citizen, “What’s so great about freedom?” The reply is, “If you knew freedom, you would never be a slave.” I am free to think, question, doubt, any claim told to me. Believers are not. I am free to be myself, not what others say I must be. I am free to assert my opinions and not be someone who spouts off the dogmas of others. I am free of having to make up answers to things I know nothing about, or to which there is no evidence to support. I am free to say that no one witnessed the beginning of the universe, or if it ever did begin. I am free to say that nobody knows, likewise, what happens after I or anyone else dies. I am free, in other words, to be honest. And I can judge and criticize leaders of the fold, un-beholden to them. I am free to be curious and questioning, as my birthright, which religion would deny me and make into a negative.

You speak of “saving,” especially saving the children, and believe humans are basically bad. We are diametrically opposed on what we call “saving,” as I see humans as essentially good. What children need to be saved from is superstition, not from some fiery pit prepared for them if they misbehave, by a god who sentences most of mankind to it. My hope is to PREVENT them from inheriting the unresolved differences and prejudices religions drop into their laps through different belief systems.

Does a child have a civil right NOT to be indoctrinated? Well, there was a bill presented to the United Nations to that effect, and I think it makes very good sense. You may believe whatever you want, but you ought to keep the innocent and trusting children out of it, for you are teaching them - without real concern for the truth – things which neither you nor anyone else can prove. If you are happy with that, then there is something morally wrong with you.

As well all know, mathematics is dangerous -- especially trigonometry. Rooted as it is in ancient Greek religious practice, young minds exposed to mathematics become open to unwholesome -- possibly demonic -- spiritual influences. Nah, just joking. The bit about math being rooted in religion is true, naturally, but the possibility that the hypotenuse is the straight line to hell seems far-fetched, to say the least. But Southern Baptist Theological Seminary President Albert Mohler believes something very similar about yoga, according to an article in the Clarion Ledger. Yoga comes from the Hindu tradition, but of course dressing in a leotard and stretching your hamstrings doesn't strike most people as much more than a way of calming down and getting in shape. As the article says, "Mohler's posture has drawn a mix of bafflement and criticism from those who practice yoga, which is taught in many churches and which many people see as unrelated to its ancient roots in India." But coincidentally, Dr. Michelle Belfer Friedman, a psychiatrist, psychoanalyst and the director of pastoral counseling at Yeshivat Chovevei Torah Rabbinical School, has a column in The Jewish Week, offering advice to a woman who's worried about her husband's dabbling in yoga and meditation. Dr. Friedman's advice -- basically talk to your husband and get to know what he likes about his new pastime -- is very sound. A less fraught east-meets-west story is to be found in Massachusetts, where a Thai sangha have just been granted permission to build a 60 foot Theravadin temple, complete with a golden spire. The photograph in the article looks lovely, and apparently there were no objections raised at the planning meeting. And the interfaith harmony goodness extends to North Carolina, where Pitt County Memorial Hospital has just dedicated an ecumenical chapel. The new chapel cost 2.3 million dollars and was built thanks to private donations. No related posts.

This is a rather brave attempt to wring significance out of the fact that Confucius, the Buddha, Socrates and Jeremiah all lived at about the same time, between them causing a revolution in the way in which humans relate to the universe in philosophy and religion. It did not completely work for me. I found Armstrong's account of the evolution of the Old Testament as a product of the Jews' exile in Babylon pretty compelling, and we have a couple more of her books on the shelves which I am looking forward to reading now. Her description of ancient Greek ...

By Carol Putnam ~

I can’t really blame my mother for what she did. My father was an abusive alcoholic. I had seen him hit her on numerous occasions; once hard enough to make her mouth bleed. My sister and I were punished with a belt or backhanded. Yet despite what happened during the week, we still made it to church every Sunday morning. On that particular day we were all “good Christians."

Life for my mother was a living hell. (It was no picnic for us kids either.) But like I said, I can’t blame her. She was born in a small, backwater town in the North Dakota badlands during the Depression. Hardship was just a way of life, and a “good Christian woman” had to endure without complaining. The nuptial phrase “for better or worse” meant literally that. Divorce was viewed as a one-way ticket to Hell. At the very least, it was a scandal no decent woman could abide.

Over the course of our lives my mother tried desperately to find spiritual comfort in a variety of religious sources. My sister and I got dragged to more different churches than I can recall:  Lutheran, Methodist, Presbyterian, Baptist. (Since, in my mother’s small-town estimation, Jews and Catholics were destined for damnation, she eschewed their doctrines.)  She even indulged in the wacky writings of Edgar Casey, Scientology and the Church of Religious Science. All this in the name of finding inner peace and some greater meaning to life’s adversities.

Then one day some new neighbors moved in next door. They were an elderly couple who had been missionaries in Africa for nearly 50 years. Their home was a veritable museum of cultural artifacts. (I was very much into the “Daktari” TV show back then, so of course I was instantly enchanted with their tales of life in the Congo.)  In addition to being very kindly and hospitable people, they were also Seventh-Day Adventists. This was a faith my mother had not yet explored, so she of course became enchanted for an entirely different reason.

From the time I was eleven until I was nearly fourteen I was compelled to attend Bible study in their home and Saturday service at their church. (SDAs hold Saturday as their Sabbath as part of their adherence to Old Testament law. Additionally, they subscribe to the ancient Hebrew belief that certain kinds of food are “unclean,” e.g. pork, shellfish and anything not having a cloven hoof.)  This was a difficult teaching for my mother to swallow, figuratively speaking. Still, she did her best to comply with this oddball, superstition-riddled culinary requisite, refusing to serve her family many of the foods we had grown up loving. (This certainly did not help matters between her and my father, a man who dearly loved his morning pork chops or bacon.)  Even worse, she began bringing home “SDA approved” non-meat, pseudo-food products packaged and promoted by the corporate church. The term “god-awful” was never more apropos than in reference to these vegetable by-product manifestations of malnutrition.

But gastrointestinal peculiarities and Sabbath swapping are not the reasons why I wrote this article. There is another Seventh-Day Adventist doctrine whose message is so vile, so racially and sexually perverted that the church has gone to great political and social lengths to deny that it ever existed. But it did exist. It does exist. It’s called “amalgamation." This is the twisted belief, invented and publicly endorsed by so-called SDA prophetess Ellen G. White, that Negroes (actually any human beings of darker skin tone) are the result of Jehovah's “perfect” people having sex with apes or other animals.

Some background:  White was born in Maine in 1827. Though slavery had been outlawed there since the late 1700s, rum manufacturers in Maine made a financial killing trading their “liquid gold” in African ports in exchange for Negro slaves, which were then sold for a handsome profit in the West Indies or the southern American states where slavery continued to thrive. Thus, the good—presumably Christian—merchants of Maine could “keep their hands clean” and still reap some hefty rewards. Even so, pro-slavery agitators in Maine continued to press for the re-legalization of slavery. And while White herself did denounce slavery as an institution, her language regarding “colored people” is far from egalitarian.

She wrote,

"God cannot take the slave to heaven, who has been kept in ignorance and degradation, knowing nothing of God, or the Bible, fearing nothing but his master's lash, and not holding so elevated a position as his master's brute beasts. But He does the best thing for him that a compassionate God can do. He lets him be as though he had not been." Ellen G. White, Spiritual Gifts, vol. 1, p. 193.

So basically, she is contending that the uneducated black man (or woman) isn’t even as good as a “brute beast." Therefore, the “compassionate god” will simply let him rot in his grave in the same manner as a beast. (Note, it is no small coincidence that White frequently equated “colored people” with beasts. In fact, this comparison lies at the very core of her amalgamation theory.)  So, what is it?  White herself gave the definition:

"But if there was one sin above another which called for the destruction of the race by the flood, it was the base crime of amalgamation of man and beast which defaced the image of God, and caused confusion everywhere." -Spiritual Gifts, Vol. 3, p. 64, 1864.

"Every species of animal which God had created, were preserved in the ark. The confused species which God did not create, which were the result of amalgamation, were destroyed by the flood. Since the flood there has been amalgamation of man and beast, as may be seen in the endless varieties of species of animals and certain races of men."- Spiritual Gifts, Vol. 3, p.75, 1864. 

In essence, humans had sex with animals, thus creating whole new “confused” species. Even in White’s day, this was known in scientific circles to be a genetic impossibility. Still, the SDA church then as now staunchly contends that Sister White spoke nothing that did not come directly from Jehovah  . (Not surprisingly, these very passages were removed from later revised publications, presumably because they caused the church considerable political embarrassment.)

But wait, doesn’t the Bible itself speak of such creatures?  The books of Deuteronomy, Numbers, Job and Psalms all speak of unicorns. In Isaiah and Jeremiah we read about the cockatrice, a creature half-snake and half-chicken. And the satyr, the famous half-man, half-goat, which appears in Greek and Roman mythologies as well, is featured in Isaiah. In truth, superstitions the world over are rife with many colorful examples of "amalgamations."

Now let's get to the ugly heart of the matter:  Racism. The modern SDA can deny it all they like, but I vividly recall listening to that kindly old couple tell us how there was "scientific proof" that the black man's brain was considerably smaller than a white man's. Then too, the shape of his skull, nose, lips and jaw—similar to that of the gorilla—clearly indicated his primate ancestry. White herself stated that the results of amalgamation are evidenced in "certain races of men." Her crony and co-leader of the SDA movement, Uriah Smith, went so far as to name them specifically:  African Bushmen, Hottentots and even the American Digger Indian.

Perhaps White's ignorance—and that's a mighty big "perhaps"—can be forgiven considering the racist period in which she lived or her own medically unbalanced psyche. However, this perverted doctrine was still being preached during my childhood. And that was the year 1966! If you visit the official SDA website today, you will see they claim to abhor all forms of prejudice. How convenient. And how very "politically correct" for an institution that wishes to keep enjoying its tax-free status. If you ask rank-and-file SDA members about amalgamation, many of them won't know what you're talking about. That still doesn't belie the fact that this "religion" supported and promoted one of the most despicable and degrading concepts known to humankind.

As I stated earlier, I can't blame my mother for what she did, exposing me to all this nonsense. If anything, I owe her a debt of gratitude! Her curiosity, doubt and desperate thirst for answers inspired my own quest for truth. The pain of an abusive childhood taught me the meaning of hypocrisy and gave me the audacity to ask "why?" The latter has proven to be my most powerful tool in tearing asunder the ultimate "amalgamation" of lies, superstition, bigotry and intolerance that define the parameters of all religions.

End

Author's Note: My mother never did join the SDA church. Despite her personal trials and restrictive upbringing, she was still a woman of considerable intelligence, and I'm certain she saw right through their hogwash. After divorcing my father, she found her own form of "spiritual peace" in painting beautiful landscapes.

This week those hoping to become All Souls fellows will sit 'the hardest exam in the world'. The notorious one-word essay question may have been scrapped, but candidates still have to sit the General Paper. We asked four writers who thought their exam days were long behind them to attempt one question in strictly one hour . . .
 
Blog: Could you set harder questions?

Mary Beard classicist

Would it have been better had some surviving works of ancient authors been lost?

Classical studies are driven by the ambiguities of survival. It is not a question of what we have versus what we do not have (the surviving books of Dio's History of Rome measured against the lost books of Tacitus' – no doubt infinitely sharper – history of the last days of Nero). Classics, as a subject, engages in the curiosities, problems and discontents of survival. It builds on the puzzling, changing identifications of works that are transmitted via the scholarly hands of the monkish middle ages, or those dug up from the sands of Egypt. It makes us face how little we know about what the "survival" (or "loss") of literature means.

Sometimes it's clear enough. Diogenes, the second-rate, second-century AD epicurean philosopher, ensured his own survival by having his thoughts inscribed on the wall of his home city of Oenoanda in what is now Turkey. There was little chance of destroying that. But usually "survival" is a trickier question. Take the short essay "Constitution of Athens", now attributed to the anonymous "Old Oligarch". Is this a work of the Athenian renegade politician Xenophon (with whose works it has been transmitted in medieval manuscripts)? Or is it a weird rightwing tract by a not very bright anti-democrat of about the same period – that is, the late fifth century BC? (Moses Finley always used to say that the modern pseudonym "Old Oligarch" was the problem here: it made him sound like an engaging elderly pub-philosopher, when in fact he was the closest the ancient word came to a fascist – with the exception of Plato.)

Or think, rather differently, of the archaic Greek poetess Sappho. A few of her poems survive, brilliant enough to define the history of love poetry for the next two and a half millennia ("Phainetai moi . . ." as the best one goes in Greek, copied by the Roman poet Catullus in "Ille mi par esse . . ."). But maybe Sappho's reputation has been helped by what we no longer have. Most of her output was, we fear, interminable marriage hymns for the young ladies in her entourage. Lost, and well lost, perhaps.

To think more widely (and not to forget that the origin of Christianity was in the Roman empire), what difference has it made that the four canonical gospels have been canonised as such – so effectively consigning the variants to the scrap heap? The recently published Gospel of Judas gives a hint of a very different tradition, and one in which – as never happens in Matthew, Mark, Luke and John – Jesus actually laughs (with all the theological complexity that that involves – does God laugh?). Survival, or not, has theological implications and a theological history.

But the key example is that holy grail of classical scholarship – a holy grail because no one can agree whether it is lost or not – the second book of Aristotle's Poetics (written in the mid fourth century BC). The first book of the Poetics deals with Aristotle's theory of tragedy (the famous discussion of pity, fear and catharsis). The second book, or so we glean from other references in Aristotle, brought the reader back to comedy and to that tricky problem of laughter. The usual scholarly line here is to lament that this work did not make it through the middle ages. Umberto Eco's novel The Name of the Rose ("spaghetti structuralism" according to Slavoj Žižek, but fun all the same) dramatised the disappearance of the last surviving copy: literally eaten as a subversive tract by a gloomy "agelastic" monk, before his whole monastery goes up in flames. And recently such leading scholars as Quentin Skinner have mourned its disappearance: if only we had Aristotle's essay on comedy, writes Skinner, we would understand ancient laughter.

But has it disappeared? And what counts as disappearing? According to Richard Janko, valiantly reviving a (nearly lost) 19th-century theory, the weird little treatise "On Comedy" in a 10th-century manuscript (Tractatus Coislinianus, now in Paris, once on Mount Athos) is actually a summary of this lost work.

So is it or isn't it? Scholarship has not gone with Janko. The essay in the Tractatus is a very mediocre little tract, and most likely – so the orthodox view goes – a jejune compendium of Aristotelian thought by a none-too-bright Byzantine monk. It includes, for example, some very plodding ideas of what makes an audience laugh ("silly dancing", is one prompt to laughter). But could we see it differently? According to Michael Silk (no admirer of the intellectual power of lost Aristotle) we might actually think that, in all its mediocrity, this mediocre work was a reasonable summary of some very mediocre Aristotle – altogether not worth saving. Let's not lament its loss.

Who knows? But this should remind us of the perils of survival (as the question asks us to reflect). Sometimes the best may not survive (and classical nostalgia always suspects that we have inherited some dross while losing some gems). But maybe (and this would be a simplified version of Silk's position on the second book of the Poetics) what we have lost was second-rate all along. Perhaps the history of the transmission of classical texts has been a pretty efficient sorting mechanism: the survival of the fittest.

In a way it was summed up towards the beginning of Tom Stoppard's The Invention of Love. The play's "hero", AE Housman, Cambridge professor and celebrity classicist, is going down to Hades from the Evelyn Nursing Home in Cambridge. He is delighted to interrogate Charon, the boatman taking him across the Styx, wanting to find out more about what happened in Aeschylus' lost play, Myrmidons. Charon looks as if he can deliver. But the joke is that he only tells Housman the lines that Housman knows already, preserved in later quotations and no surprise at all.

The allure of survival turned out to be the survival of what Housman already knew. It complicates the idea of choice and loss.

Geoff Dyer writer

Why are face transplants more controversial than liver transplants?

To get to the heart of this question it is worth examining the moment, in a sketch from the 1970s, when Tommy Cooper takes a seat on a train and looks up at the person opposite. We see, immediately, that it is Adolf Hitler. Cooper is a little uncertain – he knows it's someone famous but is not sure who. "Hang on a moment, I never forget a face . . ." Then, after a pause: "That is a face, isn't it?"

This is funny because we think that the problem is that he doesn't recognise Hitler's face, but in fact he's is not even sure it is a face at all. Because he's not sure it's a face, however, does not mean that it could be, say, a liver. He means it's a rather sad excuse for a face. But the question – "That is a face, isn't it?" – contains a deeper question, the one recognised by Martin Heidegger who was a member of the Nazi party, the party started by Hitler to achieve world domination. The question is not what is a face (or liver) but what is "is" ("Was ist das 'ist'?").

In his different, less phenomenological way, Cooper insists that we do not take things at face value. One's initial response to the question is that it's obvious why liver transplants are not controversial. It is widely accepted now, in a culture of binge-drinking, that the liver as biologically conceived is not up to the demands of modern living. In the era of recreational drug use and happy hours and alcopops, the liver just can't cope. It is not an organ that one has any sentimental attachment to. One could not, for example, imagine a bumper sticker with "I ❤ my liver". The liver is just a dumping ground for toxins. Even by the standards of offal it's a horrible little organ. I can still remember, at school, being served liver with those veins in it. I've never eaten it since.

But then – and this is where the Cooper joke forces us to confront things we take for granted – consider how much more disgusting it would have been if we had been served a human face. Or a chimpanzee's face. But where to stop? Quite often we are served fish with the head on, and when we say "head" we really mean "face". The cheeks are widely considered the sweetest part of a fish. It is also worth bearing in mind that, after a certain number of years in the trade, all fishmongers begin to look rather amphibious. There is, in other words, a concealed assumption in the question: that we are talking about the transplant of a human rather than animal face on to a human being. This is considered completely beyond the pale, even though infantry soldiers are popularly referred to as "dog faces".

Of course the real problem is that the face is bound up with personal identity. In John Woo's film Face/Off John Travolta and Nicolas Cage swap faces, effectively becoming each other. If they had just swapped livers it wouldn't have made much difference to either of them; it would have resulted in a completely pointless film that would no doubt have flopped at the box office. George Orwell understood the way that one's face is tied up with one's identity when he said that by the age of 40 everyone has the face they deserve. Martin Amis updated this: everyone gets the face they can afford. This gets to the heart of the matter. Face transplants are still at an early stage. They are experimental and extremely expensive: what you see is what you get; or, more exactly, what you got is what you see. All of this will no doubt be solved as the technology improves and the kinks are ironed out. As that happens, demand will increase and prices will come down, and we will all be able to walk around looking like whoever we want.

Mary Midgley moral philosopher

"There was a time when people only wanted to sense the moon, but now they want to see it" (Goethe). Discuss.

This is just one more fascinating clue to the way in which the Enlightenment has shrunk and tidied up our European life-world. As the ethologists have told us, every species has its distinctive world, its Umwelt, the peculiar space in which it feels that it lives. A pigeon's world is quite a different one from that of the peregrine that eats it. Neither of them could make any sense of the other. And because we humans vary so much in our cultures, we too live in a number of different life-worlds, which are constantly changing.

What Goethe was talking about was, no doubt, the explosive effect of Galileo's telescope on the European world-picture. Seen through that telescope, Jupiter suddenly had moons, and what had seemed to be the slightly uneven silver disc of our own moon turned out to be as rough, as pitted and as messy as the surface of the earth itself. Notoriously, this drastically affected cosmology and religion, both of which had taken for granted a secure and perfect heavenly realm, in which the moon was included. But Goethe, I think, was talking about another imaginative effect which has not had so much attention.

What did he mean by sensing the moon? We don't have his German word, but I take it he was distinguishing between taking in something directly as a whole and being able to sort out its different elements. David Copperfield sensed that Miss Murdstone didn't much like little boys, and he didn't really need a fuller analysis to tell him he was right. After Galileo, European inquirers were able to give the moon that detailed analysis, and they have eventually provided it with a pretty full street guide, filling in the Mare Imbrium and the Mare Tranquillitatis and all the rest of it. This is surely a splendid achievement. But is this process of increasing detail – of continually sharpening up the focus – enough? Does it need a wider background?

When people just sensed the moon, they were admiring that silver disc in the context of the heavens as a whole. They saw it reigning among the stars, being lost among shifting clouds and emerging from them, rising and setting over the earth. That variable heaven was for them a symbol of majesty, of the vaster background that gave a sense to their lives. As Kant put it in the Critique of Practical Reason: "Two things fill the mind with ever-increasing wonder and awe, the more often and the more intensely the mind of thought is drawn to them: the starry heavens above me and the moral law within me."

Today, it is not possible for many human beings to see that starry heaven at all because of the light pollution that covers our towns. Details of the moon, and the other heavenly bodies, are, however, brought to us in books or on television. If we wish, we can know infinitely more about them than our most learned ancestors could ever have dreamed of. Indeed, the Enlightenment has done a magnificent job of increasing our knowledge. The further job – which its original prophets glimpsed very clearly – of putting that knowledge in its wider context hasn't been done so well. It is not a job for science but for wisdom. It needs more work.

Will Self writer

Is there something inherently coarsening about sport?

Montaigne said, "Mistrust a man who takes games too seriously; it means he doesn't take life seriously enough." Yet this remark, coming as it does from an essayist who elsewhere in his multifarious oeuvre confesses to great enjoyment of both parlour games and the chase, may strike us as an admonition aimed at the author himself. It seems to indicate that Montaigne saw his own sensibility as poised on a knife-edge between being submerged in the ephemeral trivialities of contingent competition, and the lasting importance of life properly engaged with.

We are all familiar in our own lives with the spectacle of the sports fanatic, or the compulsive games player, whose engagement with the wider world is mediated through the lens of their pursuit. In British culture it seems sometimes to be the casethat discussion of football has the character of an ulterior male language, running beneath the main course of communication in such a way as to suborn its function.

To hear men in pubs – or on trains, in offices, indeed anywhere at all – speak of this goal or that team selection is instantly to apprehend that what they discuss is not football per se, but rather life in all its conflict and variety; and that the proximate dispute about refereeing decisions may stand only as a proxy for misgivings about anything from the presence of British ground forces in Afghanistan to the wisdom of cutting government spending so far and so fast.

Men – and some women – watch football, dispute and debate football, and even occasionally kick a ball around, because it offers them a small-scale model of life, not necessarily because it distracts them from life altogether. Claude Lévi-Strauss observed in The Savage Mind that the virtue of a small-scale model is that it sacrifices the sensible in favour of the intelligible. Life, it is true, can be grasped in all its confused futility merely by opening one's eyes and sitting passively, a spectator on the stands of history – but to understand the social processes and conflicts, the interplay between individual and group, even the physicality of human experience, we have need of small-scale models.

As the render is to the building, and the blueprint to the machine, so sport is to social existence. Within the compass of football or rugby pitch; on the baize of a roulette or poker table; in a squash court and around a running track – all of these are confined arenas within which the application of normative constraints to the vagaries of individual character and the valences of individual aptitude can be assessed and, more importantly, projected. It is fair to say that insofar as sport is taken seriously by those who play it, then to that extent their conduct in play – their ability to deal with loss or victory, their ability to meld strategic thinking and brute force – can be taken as a small-scale model of how they, or others like them, might behave in life.

Surely it is this aspect of sport which makes it quite so beguiling for those that follow it. I stress, this is not simply a retread of the grotesque notion that the first world war was won "on the playing fields of Eton". In what sense at all could that war be said to have been won at all? The compulsive application of sporting metaphor to the conduct of entrenched slaughter was just one of the figures within which can be discerned the extent to which mechanised warfare veered away from any social contract whatsoever. The famous "Christmas truce" of 1914, when British and German troops staged a football match in no man's land, was utterly eclipsed by subsequent episodes when advancing British troops dribbled footballs in front of them after going over the top, the aim being to kick the ball into the enemy's trenches.

Here, sport as a re-enactment – on a small scale – of the social contract is replaced by a lopsided metaphorical instantiation of sporting zeal. After all, what would it have been like for the British dribblers to have scored a goal, let alone "won" the one-sided match they were engaged in? It is in contexts such as these, where sport runs up against life situations that cannot be mediated by the same normative rules, that sport risks looking too facile and too juvenile to be anything but a coarsening influence on the lives and minds of people.

The "rumble in the jungle" between Muhammad Ali and George Foreman; the kidnap and murder of Israeli athletes at the 1972 Munich Olympics; the disasters at Ibrox stadium and Hillsborough – these are not, properly understood, sporting events at all: they are sociopolitical occurrences that have imploded into the small-scale models of life that sport offers. And it is when we see sports pundits, commentators and fans struggling to come to terms with such events that we feel most strongly the pathos of the sporting life, and the bewilderment of its habituees.

It is not that sport, over-indulged in, coarsens the mind; it is that it dulls it. If I were to recast Montaigne's aperçu it would be thus: "Mistrust a man who takes games too seriously; it means he may be incapable of taking life seriously enough." In static and small-scale societies – one thinks of the ancient Greek city states, or of contemporary traditional societies (if there are any such truly still existent) – there may be no necessary conflict between the seriousness of sport and the seriousness of life. Moreover, in as much as the former coarsens it may do so for a purpose: the ritualised forms of conflict employed by Native Americans such as the Cheyenne and the Sioux, prior to the fulfilment of Manifest Destiny, can be seen as just one example of the way sport and warfare merge seamlessly to provide a graduated response to the problem of collective male aggression. (And arguably, so-called football hooliganism in our society is another example of the same phenomenon; it's worth noting that in both arenas the mounting of raids and the taking of scalps is crucial.)

I say "arguably", because we do not live in a static or self-contained society, and it's almost impossible to view local and amateur sport as an analogue of the social process. On the contrary, if sport in our culture exists on a continuum, it is one that ascends from the local kick-around pitch to such mighty boondoggles as the 2012 Olympic Games, or the farrago that was the England football team's petulant failure at this year's World Cup. The extreme professionalisation of sport and its internationalisation exposes the fallacious character of how the small-scale model of sport might operate.

In lieu of young sports players discovering how to conduct themselves in constrained playing environments, so as to be able to take their place in similarly delimited social and economic contexts, we have the spectacle (if it's possible to imagine such a thing) of multi-millionaires refusing to train for their professional games unless they are allowed access to their computer games consoles. That this really did take place in South Africa confirms not merely an inability to take life seriously enough, or a coarsening of the individuals' concerned sensibilities, but a deep and painful kind of stultification.

I cleave to the Montaigne quote with which I began this answer, but lingering in the back of my mind was a series of observations made by the protagonist of Richard Ford's The Sportswriter. In all his years of observing sportsmen and women train, this character – the sportswriter of the title – has come to the conclusion that sport, even if it attracts intelligent people, succeeds ultimately in dumbing them down by the sheer force of the repetitive physical activities they are engaged in all day every day. As it is in complex late capitalist society, so it is in complex late capitalist sport: intense specialisation equals mindless repetition.

In conclusion: sport may not inevitably coarsen, but in the particular form of society we have it undoubtedly stupefies. But then, since most of us are stupefied anyway, why not play up! And play the game!

 

Blog: Could you set harder questions?

I think it should, especially since ancient Norse, Greek, and Egyptian mythology is technically religion. And some people still practice it.

Color coding: It's pretty and functional! Photo courtesy of juhansonin. Licensed under CC BY-2.0.Perhaps one of the most important skills you will learn while you’re in college is organization. Organization is your friend. It helps you make sure you get all of your homework done for your classes on time. It makes sure that you don’t miss meetings for your clubs. It makes sure that history exam doesn’t sneak up on you while you’re busy writing your paper on the importance of olives in the diet and economy of the Ancient Greeks.

Everyone has their own way of keeping organized. Personally, I’m a big fan of lists. There’s something quite satisfying of crossing off item after item and knowing that I’ve actually done something productive that day. Whatever your method of organization though, it can always be improved through a little systematic integration of color coding. Some of you may think that color coding is a little over the top. It’s for those girls who have way too much time on their hands and coordinate their outfits to match their shoes and purses and the color of their nails. However, color coding is possibly one of the most invaluable tools I’ve come across at college, and after the cut, I’ll tell you how to use it in every day life at school. 

Folders and Notebooks

Most simply, it’s really easy to color coordinate your folders and notebooks for each of your individual classes. Now, some of you might take notes on your computer, which pretty much eliminates physical notebooks for that class. (Some of you might want to make your own notebooks though.) However, for classes in which professors forbid the use of laptops in classes or in which you find it easier to take notes in a notebook, it’s nice to have a different color for each notebook so you can simply see the color of the notebook and grab it for the day.

Additionally, I find it very useful to have a folder for each of my classes. I use them to keep various handouts, project instructions, and assignments and the syllabus so they’re easy to whip out in class or while I’m preparing for that class in my room. Each of these folders is a different color which corresponds to the color of their respective notebooks. Even if this seems to be a little silly, it makes it a lot easier when I’m rushing to pack my bag in the morning to get to class. Red folder, red notebook, blue folder, blue notebook, and I’m out the door.

Calendar

I live by my calendar. I use the super old school Microsoft Outlook 2003 as my version of a calendar. Are there better calendars I could use? Probably. But I’m used to this one, so I’m just going to show you how I use color coordinating in my calendar experience so that hopefully you’ll be able to transfer some of those tips into your own calendar usage.

This is my ridiculously crazy calendar for April '10. It's awesome.

As with my folders and notebooks, I have a color designated to each of my classes. Green is my Greek religion class, blue is my media law class, purple is my European history class, etc, etc. When I have a quiz, presentation, or a piece of homework due, I create a new event on my calendar and mark it with the appropriate, corresponding color of whichever class it’s for. In addition to individual class colors, I also have a color set aside for other important happenings (like job interviews, meetings with advisors, or a due date for a form) so that these things don’t get lost in the bustle of homework. I’ve also designated a color for major tests and papers so that I can look at a month at a time and see how I need to plan in order to fit in time to work on this major project.

In order to keep track of what I have to do each day, I create a separate event, title it “Homework,” and leave it uncolored. Within the event details, I make a list of each piece of homework I have to do for that evening. After I finish every item on the list, I then fill this “Homework” event with another color that I’ve reserved for “Item Completed.” In the picture of my calendar, you can tell that color is olive green. This system of checking things off my list through colors helps me figure out what I have already done and what I still need to do so that I can be organized and continue to be productive.

Email

Email is another aspect of your college life that you can make more organized through color coding. Gmail is fabulous with this. If you don’t know this already, you can make filters and labels in Gmail which help you figure out which emails belong to which part of your life. This semester, I made a label for each of my classes, each with their own color. Additionally, I’ve created filters that put emails from each of my classes’ professors into their respective color coordinated label. I know. It’s awesome. When I see an email with an orange label on it, I know immediately which professor it’s from. If I get an email from members of a group project, I can also just drop the correct class label onto it. Color coding labeling in emails makes it easy to find emails of a certain class instead of wading through different emails for different classes.

Do you use color coding to help organize your life? What ways do you color code to help yourself stay organized?

by Mary Beard

I wouldn't have wanted to spend much time with her. She was far too histrionic, too satisfied with her own cleverness and even more self-obsessed than the average early 20th-century don. But Jane Ellen Harrison changed the way we think about ancient Greek culture – peeling back that calm, white marble exterior to reveal something much more violent, messy and ecstatic underneath ("bloody Jane" they called her, for more reasons than one, I suspect). And she was the first woman in England to become an academic, in the fully professional sense – an ambitious, full-time, salaried, university researcher and lecturer. She made it possible for me to do what I do.

Harrison went up to Cambridge in 1874 to read classics at Newnham College. Though she missed a first (to her life-long annoyance), she was already an academic celebrity – and a trouble-maker. As a student, she even faced down William Gladstone, by claiming that her favourite Greek writer was the sceptical playwright Euripides (not, as the old man hoped, the pious Homer). Taken aback, he stuttered and walked away.

Through the 1880s she made her living in London as a journalist and by giving lectures, with ingenious sound effects and gas-powered lantern slides. It was mass entertainment: 1,600 people once turned out in Glasgow to hear her talk on Athenian gravestones (those were the days). In 1898 she went back to a fellowship in Cambridge, to write the books that would offer an entirely new vision of the ancient world. The austere titles (Themis, Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion and others) conceal a heady mixture of Nietzsche, Durkheim, bull-leaping – and, of course, blood.

Harrison argued for women's suffrage but thought she would never want to vote herself. She fell repeatedly, volubly and unsuccessfully in love. When Virginia Woolf gave the lecture that became A Room of One's Own in Cambridge in 1928, she thought she glimpsed Harrison's ghost in Newnham's gardens. I sometimes see it too.

Can you really improve your life, and perhaps the world too, by your own inner effort?

The Power – Rhonda Byrne's sequel to the self-help megaseller The Secret – has shot straight to the top of the hardback book charts. According to Nielsen BookScan, The Secret sits comfortably alongside too, at number two. Worse still, The Power sold more than the following five bestsellers added together. Whence, you might ask, the power of The Power?

It's puzzled me ever since The Secret was released. This small tome of esoteric promise used to be stacked by the philosophy shelves. I saw it every time I stole my way to that part of a bookshop, to check that one of my books was at least in stock. Who is this Rhonda Byrne? I'd missed the reviews of her work in, say, the Saturday Guardian. What is "the secret"? And would it include the secret to publishing success?

In case you've not read it, I can answer at least one of those questions. The secret of The Secret, which it turns out is also the power of The Power, is called the law of attraction. "Like with like together strike", ancient wisdom tells us. Hence, if your thoughts are of health or insight or wealth then before you know it, you will receive health or insight or wealth. Conversely, to think you are ill or ill-fated is simply not to be thinking right: you are well, and will know it.

The Secret is, therefore, a form of mental hygiene. It matters what you're thinking because thoughts are things. So to change your thoughts is to change things as they are in the world. The book is selling an empowering optimism: if you align yourself to the benign flux of life, then your life can only go well. Byrne lists testimonies, historic and contemporary, alongside quotes, ancient and modern, by way of inspiration and evidence.

But is this not as much wishful thinking, you might ask, akin to cosmic ordering, the belief expounded by Noel Edmunds, that if you write a wish list and wait, it will become reality? In fact, it's a little more sophisticated than that.

The law of attraction is manifest particularly in your feelings. Good feelings generate good outcomes. Bad feelings bad outcomes. An individual will find themselves caught up either in spirals of positivity, or negativity. It all depends upon your habits of mind. The Secret and The Power aim to help you to take your "feeling off automatic". They suggest ways of realigning your patterns of thought so as to make you happier and to improve your relationships.

Sound familiar? It's the power of positive thinking, repackaged. And could it not also be deemed a pop-psych version CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy), or a form of mindfulness-lite? There are also thin links with ancient Greek Stoicism. Stoics taught that one should learn to go with the flow. To resist the flow only causes distress, and you can trust the flow because it is benign.

William James, the great psychologist of religion, grouped the 19th-century equivalents of these philosophies together, and called them "mind-cures". He described them as "a form of regeneration by relaxing, letting go". He noted they are "but giving your little private convulsive self a rest, and finding that a great Self is there."

The appeal of the mind-cures then corresponds with their appeal now. They seem innovative, modern, and apparently backed by new science. They appear to be free of old religion. They can be simply formulated. They work, at least in part, by offering you a secret – showing you something about yourself that had otherwise been hidden from you.

The optimism inherent in mind-cures is particularly important. It encourages individuals to believe that they can improve their lives, and perhaps the world too, by their own inner efforts. There is nothing so fundamentally wrong, so intractably disordered, that it cannot be corrected with the right intention and right effort.

This differs from more pessimistic views of human nature, such as are inherent in the Christian doctrine of original sin; ancient Greek notions of tragedy; the complexities of psychoanalysis; and Indian religions which teach that to live is to suffer, and so to live is never to be truly liberated. Here, the individual must undergo some kind of death in order radically to be made anew. "He who loses his life will find it." Mind-cures are deluded, according to these systems; their promises are consoling but shallow, and so false.

Mind-cures. That's The Secret and its power, as well as The Power and its secret. Simple, individual, hopeful, well-packaged. Rhonda Byrne offers fast-food to satisfy the spirit of our age.

By Carl S ~

As a writer, I try to be very careful to know the meaning of the words I use. This involves not only articulation, but verification. As someone once pointed out about Western civilization, the phrase, “the Word was made flesh” has significant importance in our development, and so has the phrase, “the pen is mightier than the sword.” When in doubt, I consult the dictionary, usually finding more to the word than I expected.

One word that’s getting a lot of usage lately is “seminal.” Just what are they talking about? In the contexts of commentaries and discussions, it means, “providing a basis for further development.” It also means “creative,” and, get this, “of or relating to semen.” On the same page are found “seminary” (school for the training of priests, rabbis, ministers), “seminar,” again, same Latin root word, semen, a seminar being a “seed plot.”

According to the searchable bibles at Biblegateway.com, the word “seed” appears 254 times in the King James Version. So, while we are considering the Bronze Age texts, we might also think about the fertility religions which Abrahamic religions borrowed from. We should.

Many years ago, I read a book by John Allegro, a scholar of comparative religious texts, pre-Bronze Age included - Ancient Greek, Latin, Egyptian, Sanskrit, etc. Professor Allegro wrote in “The Sacred Mushroom and the Cross,” of translating texts in search of their root words, to ascertain if they were speaking of common beliefs. He mentions in this book that the initial root word to describe the deity, “God,” means: giant penis. (Also the subject of a fictitious archaeological find in James Michener’s novel, “The Source.”)

The monotheistic god is a father, not the mother goddess of fertility. The penis has returned. And, naturally, this god favors and rewards males and male offspring, telling them that their “seed” will prosper, shall be as the sands of the desert, that many children will be their blessings. “Increase and multiply, fill the earth,” is an oft-repeated command. Plant the semen/seeds, and voila! - bumper crops all around.

It’s very important to keep in mind another matter in reading these texts; they also believed that the male carried the entire baby in his sperm (a “homunculus” or “miniature man”), that the woman was merely the fertile ground (and cursed is the woman who isn’t), just as seeds produced plants. This explains why it is a major immorality to ”waste” that semen.

This explains a LOT. For instance, why only males are listed in their genealogies, and why, when pagan tribes were annihilated by the Israelites, virgins were kidnapped for the implantation of the Chosen male People’s seed. It also explains why a virgin can be impregnated by a god, as is stated in Genesis, Ch. 6, where “the sons of God went into the daughters of humans, who bore children to them.”

Enter reality. Here’s a MAJOR problem for bible believers: it doesn’t work that way. The chromosomes come half from the father and half from the mother for ALL progeny, including Jesus, those OTHER “sons of God,” and the pagan virgins kidnapped to become fertile ground to create more “pure” chosen people. So you always had fifty percent pagan genes that their god was not aware existed!

There we have it: Bronze Age Fertility religion smashes up against the reality of life - again. Yet, in the 21st century, they’re still preaching masturbation is immoral, homosexuality is “unnatural,” because it “wastes” seed and produces no progeny, and abortion is murder. This explains also why many believers STILL regard women as property, and would prohibit them from having control of their bodies in which a male has implanted his seed, even in cases of rape or incest.

This absolutely obsessive tradition of HOLY seed has to cease; this madness of having more and more children in a fully populated world, is bible-based. Seed-obsession is causing suffering, starving, stonings, botched abortions, deaths and many other human rights violations everywhere monotheist religions have, or strive to have, domination.

It is imperative to confront that father-figure-big-penis-god, to stop worshipping it, that passionate erection that commands louder than reason, sanity, conscience, and justice, too often and in too many lives. If that god is a “spirit,” just why is it male? Or has that been cleared up by now?

In the realm of emotions, sometimes a song is not “just a song,” a game is not “just a game,” nor words “only words,” and beliefs “only beliefs” (although THEY actually are). But sperm is only sperm.

Evolution is everywhere, including the adaptability of religion, which often ignores the obvious in endeavoring to conform to civilizing influences. But, the “words of the lord,” are forever, so they are in the root systems, even now. Like evolutionary evidence, once you become aware of it, the more examples you find of it.

Don’t take my word for it. (That’s how you got trapped into your former beliefs- trusting and believing someone else’s claims.) Read John Allegro’s beginning chapter of “The Sacred Mushroom and the Cross.” Also check out his credentials.

[A final message to believers of every religion: With your FAITH, you CAN’T be wrong.]

Once again, some Americans have become obsessed with the idea that, to save our country and our jobs, we need to close down our borders and keep out "immigrants." 

This position is ridiculous.  It flies in the face of the entire history of this country, as well as the admirable and unique principles upon which it was built.  

Almost every American is an immigrant, or descended from one.  So the idea that "real Americans" should slam the doors shut and keep out the rabble should offend every one of us.

(And to be clear, I am speaking here of legal immigrants.  Many immigration opponents say they only want to restrict illegal immigration--and as long as we continue to welcome millions of new Americans every year, the current system should be reformed. Many other opponents of immigration, however, want to further restrict immigration of all kinds, including legal immigration. And it's these folks--many of whom ludicrously consider themselves "patriots"--who have clearly forgotten where Americans come from).

LET'S NOT FORGET WHERE WE CAME FROM

Imagine we were Martians, kicking back on our porch up there on that dusty red ball, peering through a giant telescope at a tiny blue planet the locals call Earth.  Over the last several thousand years we would have witnessed an almost endless cycle of tyrants presiding over wars, genocides, beheadings, rapes and all the other awful things earthlings have been known to visit upon each other.  At some point it would no doubt occur to us that what the place really needed was one patch of land - somewhere - that those trying to escape such fates could trek to and live free lives.  In time, maybe they would even have a shot at escaping the bottom rungs of Maslow's hierarchy of needs (food, clothing, shelter etc.), left to pursue better times for themselves and their families.  It's a good idea, and no doubt us aliens would have thought of it :)

And then, just like that, it happened.  It wasn't necessarily pretty, and there were casualties both indigenous (i.e. Native Americans) and otherwise, but sure enough, a giant sprawl of resource-rich land protected by two oceans was claimed for just such a purpose.  Initially in small bands, about 400 years ago the first of four major immigration waves hit the shores of what later came to be known as the United States of America.  These early immigrants (aka Colonists) were almost all from the islands comprising the United Kingdom, with a smattering from the Continent itself (Denmark, Finland, France, Germany, Italy, The Netherlands, Poland, Portugal, Scotland, Sweden, Wales, and Finland).

Forget Plymouth Rock; over the next 100 years most immigrants arrived in Philadelphia, the main port in those days.  Many sought fortune or adventure, while others fled religious, political or ethnic persecution.  All came for a better opportunity for both themselves and their families.  Many could not afford the passage to America and came as servants.  Such servants often signed an indenture to work for a master for a half-decade or more to repay the cost of the ticket.  While the earliest blacks from West Africa were brought over as indentured servants, most arrived as slaves (World Book Encyclopedia).

By 1700, approximately 250,000 immigrants inhabited the Colonies.  Considering the disease-ridden floating wooden boxes that passed for boats in those days, a pretty good run-rate.  Then it tripled.  By 1775 another 500,000 people had made the treacherous crossing.  A flood of French, German, Irish, Italian and Scottish escaping conflict and oppression made their way here.  America was just too good an idea, and it's time had come.  So of course this led to war.  Had England had an air force, America would still be a Colony.  Fortunately, the planes came later.

In 1807 the U.S. Congress made it illegal to bring slaves to America; by then about 375,000 Africans had been imported as slaves.  The total population in America at that time was around 5.5 million.  Then the second wave of immigration hit.

Over the next 50 years, nearly eight million people entered the U.S.  Sure, by then the boats were better, but still...  Nearly all of them came from Northern or Western Europe.  About 1/3 were Irish (potato famine).  Most Irish had no money, so they stayed pretty much where they landed, namely on the East Coast.  Another 1/3 were German.  They had some money, thus many made the pilgrimage to the heartland in search of land to farm.  Later, many of Scandinavian origin would follow suit.  Ever wonder why there are so many blue-eyed people in the Midwest?

By 1855, immigration had slowed to the point where various U.S. states actually sent officials overseas to market themselves.  Railroad companies did as well.  Better ships and major declines in travel time (and fares) made crossing the ocean easier.  And the Gold Rush was rocking California.  Chinese immigrants streamed across the Pacific to strike it rich.  Meanwhile, French-Canadian immigrants slid south, moving into New England, Michigan, Illinois, etc.

And that's when our current problem began. 

THE EARLY IMMIGRANT BACKLASH

The flood of immigrants alarmed many 'native-born' Americans, who were often only a generation removed from their own immigrant roots.   Some feared job competition; others disliked the religion, politics or ethnicity of the newcomers.  During the 1850's, the "America Party" (aka the Know-Nothing Party) demanded laws to reduce immigration and to make it harder for foreigners to become citizens.  Fortunately the party soon faded away.  The feelings of a vocal few, however, did not.

In 1875, the United States passed its first restrictive immigration law.  It prevented convicts and prostitutes from entering the country.  Perhaps our first use of profiling.  Then came our second:  During the late 1870's, Californians demanded laws to keep out the Chinese immigrants.  In some instances mobs attacked those already here on the grounds that they were lowering wages.  Of course they were a source of cheap labor, as has always been the case with new immgrants.  Those doing the protesting were themselves the progeny of those who had done much the same a short time before.  In 1882, They got their law in the form of the Chinese Exclusion Act.

One of the things that went right came in the form of a gift from France.  Dedicated in 1886, The Statue of Liberty was erected on a small island south and west of Manhattan, and was inscribed with these words:

The New Colossus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

"Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she

With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

These words have resonated with me, along with many Americans, since the first time I learned them.  Even as a young boy I would vividly envision the often-terrible passage over, the alien environment where everyone spoke a different language, and the fend-for-yourself individualism so often contrary to their home-country norms.

Over the next 50 years an astounding 25 million new immigrants poured into the country, this time from nearly every corner of the globe.  Good ideas tend to spread.  People came from all over Southern and Eastern Europe, including Czechs, Greeks, Italians, Hungarians, Poles, Russians, and from the area now known as Ukraine.  The inability to make a living at home was not the only reason for their coming to America.  Some were drawn by what they had heard of the Declaration of Independence.  Many left their homes because they were forced out.  In Russia, the government began to jail or kill Jews.  Hundreds of thousands fled Russia and Poland, seeking safety in America.  In Turkey, the government persecuted Armenians, a Christian minority in a largely Muslim country.  They, too, fled to America.  From farms or villages all over Europe, many had walked to a seaport.  Some made month-long multi-hundred mile journeys.  They scrimped on food to save the $10-15 for steerage accomodations on a trans-Atlantic steamer. 

The net result?  By 1910, most larger U.S. cities had sections known as Little Italy, Little Hungary, Little Russia, Chinatown, etc.  Without question the largest international gathering on the planet.

MORE CALLS TO CLOSE THE BORDERS

Unfortunately, bad ideas also tend to spread... Many 'native-born' Americans were hostile toward these immigrants.  Some felt they had reason:  The newcomers took their jobs.  Never having known any condition except oppression or poverty, many of these new Americans would take any work at any wage offered.  Sometimes immigrants would let themselves be used as strikebreakers.  The working man often viewed the these new arrivals as enemies.  In most cases, however, the hostility was not based on reason, but rather a reaction to differences.  Some of these immigrants were of a different color.  In many cases their accents and gestures were, um, alien, and the food they ate seemed odd.  A surprising number of educated people believed the new invaders to be inferior.

Religion, too, played a major role.... Irish immigrants were mostly Roman Catholics, as were many of the Germans and most of those from Hungary, Italy and Portugal.  A large number of native-born American Protestants were hostile to these immigrants.  As well, many German immigrants were Jews.  In addition, Muslim immigrant populations from Indonesia, South Asia and Yemen began to develop.  The hostility witnessed against the Chinese in the 1870's now turned on Jews, Roman Catholics, Japanese, Muslims and, finally, new immigrants in general.

By 1917 the U.S. began to require that adult immigrants be literate, and added most of the Pacific Rim to the original ban on Chinese.  The U.S. moved to a percentage-based system in the 1920's, with a complex calculus based on census data that permitted immigrants in quantities roughly equivalent to the percent of the total population.  I would file that under bad ideas, and it clearly missed the point of the Lady standing in New York Harbor.

As one might expect, the Great Depression saw immigration drop sharply.  America may have even been net-negative during that time.  World War II reversed that.  The War Brides Act admitted spouses and children of military personnel returning from duty.  Also, as China was an ally during the war, the U.S. lifted the ban on Chinese immigrants.  But it wasn't until 1952 that the U.S. passed a law making citizenship available to people from anywhere.  Not long after, lines began to form from conflict hotspots around the globe, including China, Cuba, Korea and Hungary.

In 1965 the U.S. switched to 'hemispheric' quotas, and, notably, they favored the East (about 60/40 with a 290,000/year cap).  Relatives of U.S. citizens, resident aliens and those with 'special skills' were favored.  In 1978 Congress eliminated the hemispheric focus in favor of a global annual quota (same 290,000/year).  A decade later 3 million 'illegals' were granted amnesty.  The 1990 laws bumped the raw quotas to 700,000/year, with preference for immigrants from countries that had sent relatively few people our way in the more recent past... Europeans and Africans.

Today, most U.S. immigrants come from Mexico, India, China, the Philippines, Haiti, the Dominican Republic, Jamaica, Cuba, South Korea and Vietnam.  Although a large number of newcomers still settle in the East and Midwest, many others move to Florida, California, Arizona (well they did until this year), New Mexico, etc.  All seek the opportunity -- economic and otherwise -- America affords, in spite of the hardships involved.  Newly arrived immigrants advance only if they have drive, determination and energy.  The children of immigrants are in a better position.  They learn the customs and language while growing up.  They have substantial schooling before starting work.  Education was, and is, the key to success for immigrants, and to this day many immigrant parents of native-born children value and emphasize education above all else.  In medicine, law, education, finance, building trades and many other professions, the number of children and grandchildren of immigrants has grown to be very large.  Many immigrants -- or their children -- make great successes of their lives, leaving an indelible mark on America's history.

WE SHOULD CELEBRATE IMMIGRATION -- AND HOPE THAT EVERYONE WHO COMES HERE STAYS

In the end, almost everyone in America comes from somewhere else.  Unless you are a native (Indian) American, that means you (or possibly a Clovis, whoever they were).  At any rate, a place where people are free to pursue a better life without threat of tyranny and abuse is a good idea.  A place that accepts wave after wave of immigrant from all points on the globe, thereby ensuring new generations of people to work their way up the rungs of society while vastly improving their economic possibilities...  A good idea.  Finding some way to humanely and fairly manage a steady inflow given the demand...  A reasonable idea.  Allowing a vocal few to dictate policy that reverses both the interests of the nation and the point of America in the first place?  A bad idea.  Policies that expire student visa-holders upon graduation from our institutions of higher learning or in general encourage some of the smartest to leave?  A terrible idea.

Personally, I want them to stay.  I want to convince them to stay because, at least for those that come here for education,  increasingly they view better opportunities back in their home countries, and this trend will only grow:  In the last 50 years the world has made unprecedented gains in quality of life in many places around the globe.  This is great news for the planet, but poses an increasing challenge for America as opportunities exist in many more places today than ever before. 

I don't just want the super-smart and/or already connected, capable of gaining entry into elite U.S. schools. 

I also want the immigrant-entrepreneurs (startupvisa.com), the cab-drivers, the cooks, the nurses, the programmers, the fisherman, the hairdressers, the ditch-diggers, and, in short, anyone and everyone who's intent is to come here to pursue a better life for themselves and their families.  I want them in part because they provide the fuel for future growth, but I also want them because their perspective, work ethic and culture enrich us all, and we are better for it despite the sometimes uncomfortable dislocations.  It is, in the end, the whole point of America.  Naturally, we can't just blow a whistle and fling open the gates; America does need to administer a well-conceived series of programs, and by-and-large it does.  The danger lies in the many ill-conceived 'programs' once again rising in popularity, usually by politicians working up crowds to curry votes. (0.2 "anchor babies" were born while you were reading this - and who cares).

None of us have a right to rob the oppressed, under-nourished and economically-hogtied of this free space because we were here earlier.  As native-born Americans we are merely stewards of a shared residence for those marginalized elsewhere who often risk everything to pursue the chance of a better life in America.  As have so many before, the gate-closers who rally against new immigrants will, in the fullness of time, be viewed as they always have:  Reactionist nativists with a personal agenda who have forgotten their roots, and indeed the entire point of America.

Immigration at its best should help both the new home country and the immigrant.  After all, our interests are aligned:  Immigrants want to work, make money and live a better life.  The country benefits as these immigrants contribute to the GDP.  Instead, people take a binary view-- someone succeeds at the cost of another.  Immigrants do well, so it must be at the cost of native-born Americans (M. Lee -NYC). 

But it isn't a zero-sum game; the nation benefits from the increase in ideas, customs, culture and connectedness to the rest of the world.  And it always has.  Some jobs do get displaced as we make room, and there is pain; but other jobs are newly created by immigrants who start businesses and hire locally.  The wealth of our nation - in human capital terms - increases exponentially.

THE SALAD BOWL

The United States is often called a melting pot, which is sort of misleading as it suggests that to become an American is to become just like all other Americans.  In fact, America is unlike any other country precisely because Americans are not alike.  An American historian, Frederick Jackson Turner, once said that the United States ought to be described as a salad bowl rather than a melting pot.  Americans get mixed together like leaves in a salad bowl, by remaining distinct.  They are not melted down into a common type.  And that's a good thing.

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Rev. Franklin Graham concedes that the president is a confessed Christian but asserts that confusion arises from the fact that his father was a Muslim who passed that religion on to his son through his semen. Graham supports this strange view by pointing out that the father chose a Muslim name for his son. I guess that's kind of true, but he also named his son after himself. The president's father was named Barack Hussein Obama. Rev. Graham is an idiot, but let's see how much influence the president's father had on his religious thinking: I was not raised in a religious household. My maternal grandparents, who hailed from Kansas, had been steeped in Baptist and Methodist teachings as children, but religious faith never really took root in their hearts. My mother's own experiences as a bookish, sensitive child growing up in small towns in Kansas, Oklahoma and Texas only reinforced this inherited skepticism. Her memories of the Christians who populated her youth were not fond ones. Occasionally, for my benefit, she would recall the sanctimonious preachers who would dismiss three-quarters of the world's people as ignorant heathens doomed to spend the afterlife in eternal damnation — and who in the same breath would insist that the earth and the heavens had been created in seven days, all geologic and astrophysical evidence to the contrary. She remembered the respectable church ladies who were always so quick to shun those unable to meet their standards of propriety, even as they desperately concealed their own dirty little secrets; the church fathers who uttered racial epithets and chiseled their workers out of any nickel that they could. For my mother, organized religion too often dressed up closed-mindedness in the garb of piety, cruelty and oppression in the cloak of righteousness. This isn't to say that she provided me with no religious instruction. In her mind, a working knowledge of the world's great religions was a necessary part of any well-rounded education. In our household the Bible, the Koran, and the Bhagavad Gita sat on the shelf alongside books of Greek and Norse and African mythology. On Easter or Christmas Day my mother might drag me to church, just as she dragged me to the Buddhist temple, the Chinese New Year celebration, the Shinto shrine, and ancient Hawaiian burial sites. But I was made to understand that such religious samplings required no sustained commitment on my part — no introspective exertion or self-flagellation. Religion was an expression of human culture, she would explain, not its wellspring, just one of the many ways — and not necessarily the best way — that man attempted to control the unknowable and understand the deeper truths about our lives. In sum, my mother viewed religion through the eyes of the anthropologist that she would become; it was a phenomenon to be treated with a suitable respect, but with a suitable detachment as well. Moreover, as a child I rarely came in contact with those who might offer a substantially different view of faith. My father was almost entirely absent from my childhood, having been divorced from my mother when I was 2 years old; in any event, although my father had been raised a Muslim, by the time he met my mother he was a confirmed atheist, thinking religion to be so much superstition. And yet for all her professed secularism, my mother was in many ways the most spiritually awakened person that I've ever known. She had an unswerving instinct for kindness, charity, and love, and spent much of her life acting on that instinct, sometimes to her detriment. Without the help of religious texts or outside authorities, she worked mightily to instill in me the values that many Americans learn in Sunday school: honesty, empathy, discipline, delayed gratification, and hard work. She raged at poverty and injustice. Most of all, she possessed an abiding sense of wonder, a reverence for life and its precious, transitory nature that could properly be described as devotional. Sometimes, as I was growing up, she would wake me up in the middle of the night to have me gaze at a particularly spectacular moon, or she would have me close my eyes as we walked together at twilight to listen to the rustle of leaves. She loved to take children — any child — and sit them in her lap and tickle them or play games with them or examine their hands, tracing out the miracle of bone and tendon and skin and delighting at the truths to be found there. She saw mysteries everywhere and took joy in the sheer strangeness of life. It is only in retrospect, of course, that I fully understand how deeply this spirit of hers guided me on the path I would ultimately take. It was in search of confirmation of her values that I studied political philosophy, looking for both a language and systems of action that could help build community and make justice real. And it was in search of some practical application of those values that I accepted work after college as a community organizer for a group of churches in Chicago that were trying to cope with joblessness, drugs, and hopelessness in their midst. If Obama had a religious education, it was secular in nature. He learned religion as one learns anthropology, in a detached and curious manner. He believed his father to be an atheist, which also seems to describe his mother and (basically) his grandparents who helped raise him. Islam had no more prominence in his life than Hawai'ian burial sites. The Koran sat on a shelf with other religious books. Even a stint living in Indonesia doesn't seem to have impressed Obama with any particular affinity for Islam. Obama came to Christianity through his experience working in the inner city. My work with the pastors and laypeople there deepened my resolve to lead a public life, but it also forced me to confront a dilemma that my mother never fully resolved in her own life: the fact that I had no community or shared traditions in which to ground my most deeply held beliefs. The Christians with whom I worked recognized themselves in me; they saw that I knew their Book and shared their values and sang their songs. But they sensed that a part of me remained removed, detached, an observer among them. I came to realize that without an unequivocal commitment to a particular community of faith, I would be consigned at some level to always remain apart, free in the way that my mother was free, but also alone in the same ways she was ultimately alone. In such a life I, too, might have contented myself had it not been for the particular attributes of the historically black church, attributes that helped me shed some of my skepticism and embrace the Christian faith. For one thing, I was drawn to the power of the African American religious tradition to spur social change. Out of necessity, the black church had to minister to the whole person. Out of necessity, the black church rarely had the luxury of separating individual salvation from collective salvation. It had to serve as the center of the community's political, economic, and social as well as spiritual life; it understood in an intimate way the biblical call to feed the hungry and clothe the naked and challenge powers and principalities. In the history of these struggles, I was able to see faith as more than just a comfort to the weary or a hedge against death; rather, it was an active, palpable agent in the world. And perhaps it was out of this intimate knowledge of hardship, the grounding of faith in struggle, that the historically black church offered me a second insight: that faith doesn't mean that you don't have doubts, or that you relinquish your hold on this world. Long before it became fashionable among television evangelists, the typical black sermon freely acknowledged that all Christians (including the pastors) could expect to still experience the same greed, resentment, lust, and anger that everyone else experienced. The gospel songs, the happy feet, and the tears and shouts all spoke of a release, an acknowledgment, and finally a channeling of those emotions. In the black community, the lines between sinner and saved were more fluid; the sins of those who came to church were not so different from the sins of those who didn't, and so were as likely to be talked about with humor as with condemnation. You needed to come to church precisely because you were of this world, not apart from it; rich, poor, sinner, saved, you needed to embrace Christ precisely because you had sins to wash away — because you were human and needed an ally in your difficult journey, to make the peaks and valleys smooth and render all those crooked paths straight. It was because of these newfound understandings — that religious commitment did not require me to suspend critical thinking, disengage from the battle for economic and social justice, or otherwise retreat from the world that I knew and loved — that I was finally able to walk down the aisle of Trinity United Church of Christ one day and be baptized. It came about as a choice and not an epiphany; the questions I had did not magically disappear. But kneeling beneath that cross on the South Side of Chicago, I felt God's spirit beckoning me. I submitted myself to His will, and dedicated myself to discovering His truth. Perhaps what should concern Rev. Graham isn't some residual Islamic film that the president cannot wash away but the fact that he doesn't concern himself with personal salvation. His spirituality is grounded in collective salvation through collective action. In other words, he's a progressive-minded person.

Two years ago in this space Sergei Bourachaga began his study of the psychopathy of Mohammed, as revealed by the Koran and the Sunna. Circumstances delayed the production of Part 2, but, as you will see, it has been well worth the wait.

Part 1 may be read here.


The Koran and the Psychopathology of the Prophet (Part II)
by Sergei Bourachaga

Considerable effort was made in Part I of this essay to refute the argument that the Koran is the infallible word of God who declared Islam as “The Perfect Deen (Arabic word for religion)” during the farewell pilgrimage of prophet Mohammad in 632.

Readers who are interested in the findings of Western scholars who, after a meticulous analysis of the history and the content of the Koran, reached the conclusion that it was nothing but a series of plagiarized and distorted stories, borrowed from Judaism, Zoroastrianism, Christianity, etc.. .to fit the political agenda of a psychopath named Mohammad or Chairman Mo, should read the following academic publications:

Theodor Nöldeke: The Origins of the Koran: Classic Essays on Islam’s Holy Book. The German scholar highlights very interesting points about the confrontations involving Mohammad and his followers accusing him, on more than one occasion, of changing verses and conveying conflicting instructions. Chairman Mo was quick to point out to his detractors the notion of “Abrogation”. Basically Mo argued that “Divine Wisdom” can issue new instructions and cancel old ones, and since Islam is a faith advocating total surrender/submission to the will of God, the most recent instructions should be unquestionably obeyed, and no Muslim should pursue an explanation as to why Allah, the source of “The Perfect Deen”, failed to provide perfect laws and verses in the first place, and had to go back to the drawing board to design, adopt, and convey new laws to Chairman Mo.

Nöldeke addresses also in his writings the issues of arbitrary leaps in the Suras from one subject to another, with total incoherence and lack of chronological progress in the stories promoted by Chairman Mo, all of it complicated by a blatant misuse of non-Arabic names and expressions borrowed from other religions. The German scholar died in 1930 without any exposure to the book of Neuropsychologist Dr. Abbas Sadeghian entitled Sword and Seizure. He would have adopted a more benevolent approach in his analysis, had he known that epileptics, like Chairman Mo, do suffer from memory problems after a seizure. Even a minor seizure that does not lead to unconsciousness can seriously disrupt someone’s train of thought, that is why frequent recollection glitches created a heavy dose of incoherence in Islam’s Holy Book-the Koran.

Leone Caetani, considered one of the unique Western scholars to combine the “Historical Method” with psychological analysis to assess the roots of Islam, its development in Arabia, and the bloody struggles of desert bandits to impose the will of Allah on the infidels of the world. After 22 years of hard work, Caetani presented his conclusions in a monumental work of ten volumes entitled Annali dell’Islam / Annals of Islam. Caetani in very clear and explicit terms indicated that the early history of Islam could be dismissed as fabrications by later generations of Muslim authors entrusted with the task of protecting the vested interests of the ruling Caliphs. Without any hesitation, Caetani suggested in his writings that the Arab conquests during the formative era of Islam were driven not by religion but by the Arab tribes’ and warriors’ inherent affinity for looting and senseless thirst for blood.

Abraham Geiger, a German scholar whose highly acclaimed essay “Was hat Mohammad aus dem Judenthume aufgenommen?” / “What has Mohammad taken from Judaism?” earned him a doctorate at the University of Marburg. In meticulous details Geiger demonstrated the Hebrew origins of non-Arabic words, doctrinal/theological views, legal and moral principles, hygiene and dietary requirements, stories about Abraham and other Jewish prophets, all of them plagiarized, distorted, and attributed to “Divine Revelations” to fit the political ambitions of Chairman Mo.

Tarek Fatah, a Canadian author who produced an excellent book entitled Chasing a Mirage: The Tragic Illusion of an Islamic State. With an admirable courage Mr. Fatah challenges, in each and every page of his book, the sanitized version of the history of Islam promoted by conventional Sunni historians to their followers and their Western apologists. Mr. Fatah successfully argues that the history of Islam, from the first Caliph Abu Bakr to the last Ottoman Caliph Sultan Abdulhamid II representing the Muslim Umma (Arabic for nation), was nothing but a long bloody series of building brutal empires rooted in deceit and delusions, with no relevance to any sincere interest in the spiritual salvation of groups and nations who lived in the shadow of bloodthirsty Muslim rulers. The book sheds significant light on the myriad of arguments, accusations, and counteraccusations exchanged between Ali ibn Abu Talib (Mohammad’s son-in-law) and Aisha (Chairman Mo’s youngest wife).

Ali was the cousin of the prophet before marrying his daughter Fatima, a close companion, and one of the first to accept the “Divine Source” of the revelations recited by the messenger of Allah. With a solid knowledge of what the prophet said, and doubting the existence of a long list of Koranic verses that the prophet never mentioned, Ali often accused Aisha of inciting Caliph Umar to impose punishments, such as stoning for adultery, that had no sanction or support in the Koran. Mohammad’s youngest widow, in a lame attempt to convince Ali that she was not fabricating lies, insisted that when the Angel conveyed to the prophet the verses of Rajm (Arabic for stoning) “…they were written on a piece of paper and kept under my [her] pillow. Following the demise of Prophet Mohammad, a goat ate the piece of paper while we [Aisha plus the 11 wives and concubines] were mourning.” (Chasing a Mirage p.127). May God forgive her for the “Careless Storage” of sacred verses that became feed for animals, and thus very important non-existent commands had to be rewritten based on frail memory recollections tainted heavily by personal prejudices and ambitions.

If the Koran is nothing but a collection of plagiarized stories, full of venomous verses attacking the infidels of this world (especially Jews and Christians), what was its author masquerading as a messenger of Allah trying to achieve in promoting his totalitarian ideology? To answer this question, we first have to take a close look at the “man of God” who molded the book in his image, beginning our examination with his early childhood, the key stages of his life that had a significant impact on shaping the dark side of his psyche, and last but not least how an average orphan born in Arabia successfully managed to create and propagate one the bloodiest religious/political legacies known to mankind, which will pave the way for disastrous ramifications within our Western culture if we keep burying our heads in the sand and insist that the danger does not exist.
- - - - - - - - -
I would like to highlight to readers that for the “Official Version” of the prophet’s history, my source was The Elazhar University, The Supreme Council For Islamic Affairs, Ministry of Al Awqaf Arab Republic of Egypt. Variations in historic events do exist between Egyptian and Saudi Arabian sources, and on too many theological issues no unanimous consensus does exist between both sides. On the contrary, since the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan almost three decades ago, and the heavy involvement of both countries in fuelling Islamic fundamentalism worldwide, a fierce competition between both sides does exists to ascertain who the “True Muslim” is, and whose interpretation of Islamic history should be adopted to prepare new generations of “Genuine Muslims”.

The prophet, Mohammad Ibn Abdallah son of Abdul Muttalib, was born in Mecca in the year 570 AD. Note the name of his father: Abdallah — abd (Arabic for slave/servant) of Allah. This point confirms clearly that Allah did exist prior to the start of the prophet’s earthly journey, as part of a pantheon of pagan gods worshipped by the Arab tribes of Mecca. The prophet did not invent a new deity belonging strictly to Islam, but took an existing one, declared him supreme, and made him fit his political agenda.

Chairman Mo’s father died before his birth. Due to severe poverty and other hardships, his mother Amina entrusted Mohammad’s nursing needs and primary care to different woman in the Quraish tribe up until the age of five. At that point of his childhood, he was returned to his mother who died a year later. This critical factor paved the way for the development of a mental problem known as “Reactive Attachment Disorder” (RAD).

RAD is a serious condition in which infants fail to establish healthy bonds with parents, caregivers, and/or “significant others”. Moved multiple times from one caregiver/foster home to another prior to reaching the age of five, the child’s basic needs for nurturing, bonding, physical and emotional comfort, are constantly disrupted and unmet. The emotional trauma experienced by the child alters the healthy development of the brain and the fragile emotional balance it controls, thus providing the fertile ground for RAD to take root and seriously hamper the ability of the child to establish genuine, meaningful, loving and caring attachment to others playing a critical role in his/her survival. Overwhelmed by the painful feeling of being uprooted, in the perception of the child life becomes nothing but a series of unpredictable events, full of anxieties that eventually trigger a series of obsessive compulsive behaviours, systematically used with a defence mechanism known as “psychological projection” to acquire a sense of control on a chaotic existence.

In adolescence and later on in adulthood, children with RAD develop and maintain disinhibited behaviour patterns characterized by attention-seeking activities often defying social norms, coupled with controlling and aggressive attitudes when attention is not granted. With an extremely poor sense of self-esteem, RAD suffering adults create a phony mask of superiority to combat their chronic relationship problems, antisocial behaviour, anger management difficulties, and last but not least sexual promiscuity.

After losing his mother at age six, Mohammad’s grandfather became his legal guardian. At age eight, his grandfather died, and he was uprooted one more time and placed under the care of his uncle Abu Talib, a man of modest means who was forced to place Mo in the labour force of Mecca as a caretaker of the camels used in the caravans moving merchandise from Mecca to “bilad al sham” (Arabic for modern day Damascus-Syria).

Extensive travel in Arabia exposed Mohammad to the religious and cultural traditions of societies established in the region. An asset that he used later on in life to create his own warped ideology of destroying and controlling the society that ruined the innocence of his childhood and suffocated his ambitions by confining him in early adulthood to one of the lowliest menial jobs in Arabia, a herdsman. Extensive travel also inflicted on him one of the most terrible and traumatic experiences of his life. It turned him into the hapless victim of pederasty — the common practice of adult men having sex with young boys.

According to the British historian Richard Francis Burton, travelling caravans at the time had several camels carrying custom made “Camel Panniers” or small cubicles reserved for “Travelling Wives” — young boys, initially hired as general helpers to load and unload camels, who were dressed at the outskirts of major cities in women’s outfits for the sole purpose of providing sexual gratification to male adults, who would be away from their wives for several weeks in the inhospitable environment of the Arabian desert.

There is also the distinct possibility that the prophet Mohammad resisted the early attempts to sodomize him, and physical force was used to restrain him. A blow could have been directed to his head, thus damaging the frontal lobe and paving the way for his epileptic fits and psychopathology. It is not surprising that eventually, after launching his new career as the messenger of Allah, the basic needs of orphans for care and protection, his disguised hatred for women, his open contempt for homosexuals and for the Arabian tolerance for pederasts, became psychological projections attributed to Allah in his personal authorship of the noble book/hate literature called “The Koran’.

According to the Elazhar’s chronological development of events, by the time Mohammad was nineteen, his uncle’s business began to dwindle, coupled with the fact that his epileptic fits were making him a liability during the long trips in the desert, with the help of Abu Talib he earned his living as a shepherd,”…this occupation gave him full scope to contemplate the universe and commune with the creation.” And contemplate Mohammad did for the next six years.

In the social universe of Arabia and beyond, he discovered the critical role material wealth plays in the hierarchy of power that controls any society — control the shrines that generate the gold for the Meccan elite, and you can easily manipulate the entire population of that city including the ruling class. Gold/money can neutralize discontent and gather marginalized individuals and substantial segments of a society around a strong leader. He realized that strong leaders need good oratorical skills to articulate the resentments dammed up in the psyches of the neglected and the downtrodden. Chairman Mo noticed also that great leaders must create grandiose dreams and breathtaking agendas that would motivate followers to destroy their bitter day-to-day realities and escape into the promised land of an extraordinary bright future. He heard in his travels the stories of great emperors, kings, and military commanders who crowned themselves as totalitarian rulers of empires. He reviewed each and every story to glean the talents he needs to develop to become a great leader, and thus settle the scores with a society he hated, and with its more than 300 gods who failed to protect him when he was being subjected to physical torture in the process of being sodomized for sexual pleasure.

After a close scrutiny of the “Great Leadership” stories he heard, Chairman Mo concluded that a unique intelligence, a noble spirit, a refined character, and total originality of a doctrine are not “essential prerequisites”. However the following characteristics are a must:

• An absurd joy and defiance of social norms.
  
• A fanatical conviction that he is in communion with the supreme source of power and knowledge, and only a selected predestined few can understand.
  
• Unwavering faith in his destiny to lead.
  
• A unique capacity to hate and contaminate the spirit of his followers with the same hatred engulfing his mind, body, and soul.
  
• A cunning understanding of human nature, and a skilful manipulation of human fear of the unknown.
  
• And, above and beyond everything listed thus far, the most critical and most elusive skill needed by a totalitarian cultic leader is the ability to use his oratorical skills and impassioned double-talk to numb the reasoning power, and to control the minds of a small group of underlings (his wife Khadija, his cousin Ali, Abu Bakr, and his slave/adopted son Zaid) totally devoted to the cause of the leader, ready to preach and promote his ideology, and willing to make the supreme sacrifice to organize and consolidate the gains of the movement.

Without hatred and a bottomless pool of enemies to hate, a new mass movement leader cannot focus the attention of his followers on the challenges that need to be conquered.

For it is well known that followers remain focused on a cause and happily sacrifice their meagre possessions and lives to a megalomaniac leader, not because of the concrete guarantees of success he offers, but because of their desperate need to escape, through the destruction of well-identified and dehumanized enemies blamed for all their personal shortcomings, a self they hate and a present they abhor.

At age 25, after a six-year waiting period in the obscurity of the desert, Mohammad had a blueprint for action ready, and struck on two fronts simultaneously to set the stage for the new profession that came with the catchy and preposterous title of “Messenger of Allah”. In a tribal society where marriages were arranged for children before they reach the age of 15, Mohammad reasserted his defiance of existing social rules (an important element of his psychopathology) by marrying a widow named Khadija who was his senior by fifteen years, a wealthy businesswoman in the clothing trade and ownership of caravans moving a variety of goods to the key cities of Arabia. For Chairman Mo Khadija was nothing but the materialization of the old Arabic saying (still used up until this very day in Syria, Lebanon, etc.) “el sarwa ijat maal koussayat”. English translation: el/the, sarwa/fortune, ijat/came, maal/with, koussayat/(from the word kouss) vagina. To rephrase, Mohammad’s fortune/money to launch his new profession came with the vagina. The Arabs use the above saying to point the finger at opportunists, who hide behind the mask of love to marry older women with the clear intention of eventually controlling every single financial asset they have, and bring themselves closer and closer to the self-serving agenda they entertain.

Following his marriage to Khadija, Mohammad moved to her house and became a neighbour of Abu Bakr, whose father Uthman Abu Qahafa was a wealthy clothing merchant himself, with very close ties to the ruling elite of Mecca. For Chairman Mo, Abu Bakr was an excellent target of opportunity to exploit. Beside running the flourishing business of his father and travelling extensively in the land of Arabia, Abu Bakr was a political appointee entrusted with the semi-official role of a judge in charge of awarding “blood money” in Mecca, a practice that still exists today in too many Arab countries. It is essentially a measure used in situations involving loss of life. To prevent the spread of a bloodbath in the tribe or village through endless acts of vengeance and retribution, a mediator awards to the victim’s family an amount of money or other valuables (goats, camels, gold, etc.) considered a “fair compensation” for the lost life by both sides.

From the early stages of their relationship, Mohammad and Abu Bakr shared a passion for poetry, and spent countless hours swapping stories about their travels in the region, the turbulent realities of Arabia in general, and the corruption of the ruling elite in Mecca in particular. Chairman Mo noticed a strong sense of idealism in Abu Bakr and a readiness to adopt and impose change, to escape the pains inflicted on him by a life in the crushing shadow of a father whose success and achievements he failed to match no matter how hard he tried. That is why Abu Bakr became a champion of “meritocracy” after the death of the prophet, and refused to surrender the leadership of the newly established Islamic “Ummah” to a family member of the prophet (cousin and son-in-law Ali). He fought for a recognition of his personal contributions to the glory and fame that became associated with the name and achievements of the prophet, and like his master he managed through manipulation and coercion to be the first supreme ruler or Caliph of the believers.

Abu Bakr was a valuable asset for shielding and protecting Mohammad during the lengthy journey of destroying the power structure of Mecca, and ruining the statues of the 300 plus gods which generated a steady fortune used to oppress the poor and the marginalized. Contrary to what traditional historians of Islam want us to believe, it was Uthman Abu Qahafa, the father of Abu Bakr, and not Abu Talib the uncle of the prophet, who constantly intervened with the decision makers in Mecca to tolerate the excesses of a madman named Mohammad, and overlook the fact that his son was in close association with a lunatic.

But before mobilizing Abu Bakr, Mohammad had to recruit three key figures in his household to launch his quest for the new job of “Allah’s Messenger”. Not only numbers will provide credibility for the outrageous claims of a cult leader, but they can exercise adequate pressure to recruit individuals like Abu Bakr who have a more sophisticated understanding of the world. His wife was an easy target to manipulate. By the time he claimed he had his first revelation, Khadija was 55. A woman who failed to deliver a healthy male progeny (his son Qasim did not survive more than a few months), and aggravated this shameful situation (in the Arab tribal tradition) by bringing to this world several daughters, among them Fatima the wife of his cousin/future son-in-law Ali. With no fertility mileage in her reproductive organs, in a culture that worshipped young women because of their potential to produce male warriors, her sense of self-esteem badly bruised, she developed a neurotic co-dependency on Mo, and caressing his ego and her blind endorsements of his claims were critical for keeping him with her. Ali was even an easier target for Chairman Mo. His father Abu Talib had committed him to the care of Mohammad at the age of six, due to a series of hardships (famine, lack of income) that made it very difficult for Abu Talib to provide the basic necessities for a very large family he had. Any child in need for food and the safety of a comfortable dwelling will be an easy prey for the cunning machinations of a professional manipulator. By age ten, Ali was the first Arab male who accepted the “Divine Mission” of Chairman Mo.

It didn’t take much effort for Mohammad to recruit Zaid for his mission. Zaid was a slave he received as a gift from his wife Khadija around 605AD. Initially he saw the presence of a handsome male person in his household as a source of potential trouble with so many female family members living in the same dwelling. Mo decided to set the slave free, but Zaid, exhibited a common reaction too many slaves displayed throughout history: he refused to leave. Freedom meant uncertainty. At least he was well fed in his master’s household and life was very comfortable, compared to the hardships poor free Arabs were facing at the time. He became Mo’s personal servant, and extended a blind and unconditional support for all the absurd claims and abominable acts perpetrated by his boss. An attitude you only see in obsequious lackeys whose thoughts and actions are devoid of any empathy.

With three persons in full support for his messianic mission, Mohammad announced to Abu Bakr upon his return from a trip to Yemen that he would be devoting the rest of his life to implementing Allah’s call. Eager to flee the shadow of his famous father and occupy a bigger place in the history of his tribe, Abu Bakr without any reservation accepted Mo’s mission and pledged his life and fortune for the cause of Islam. Now one of the most venerated psychopaths in human history was ready to launch his new career of prophethood.

In Part I of this article, and frequently in the earlier paragraphs of this part, the medical term “psychopath” was used without a concrete definition that clarifies to readers the key characteristics of this personality/mental disorder. So allow me to introduce a more precise description of who a psychopath is, but first a brief description of the modern history of psychopathology.

In ancient Greek history the word psychopath was used to describe an emotionally deranged person with a “suffering soul”. In the 1880s, with the emergence of psychiatry as a distinct branch of medicine, the term was dusted off and reintroduced into the technical jargon of psychiatrists (in Germany, England, and the USA) treating “incorrigible criminals” who suffered from an irreversible “moral insanity”. By the early 1920s, American psychiatrists working in the US prison system broadened the definition, and criminal psychopathic behaviour became integrated into a new label known as “Constitutional Psychopathic Inferiority”, referring to a set of characteristics found in irredeemable violent criminals with a distinct lack of conscience or remorse.

Dr. Harvey Cleckley, an American psychiatrist working in the US prison system, decided in the late 1930s to introduce a strong measure of precision into the definition of a psychopath, and succeeded in isolating sixteen traits almost always found in psychopaths. These included being irresponsible, emotionally shallow, self-centered, lacking in empathy and insight, manipulative, etc. In 1941 Dr. Cleckley published his findings in a book entitled The Mask of Sanity in which he emphasized the psychopath’s resourceful ability to deceive his victims, and the disarming power of “concealing behind a perfect mimicry of normal emotions, fine intelligence, and social responsibility a grossly disabled and irresponsible personality.”

Inspired by the work of Dr. Cleckley, and having made similar observations in Canadian maximum-security prisons where psychopaths were confined, it was Dr. Robert Hare who chose the study of the psychopath as his life’s work, and thus became recognized as the pioneer of “The Psychopathy Checklist” (PCL) used today worldwide to assess, mostly for sentencing and rehabilitation prospects, criminals who do not show any remorse for the violent crimes they commit. For those who are interested in delving deeper into the world of the psychopaths, Dr. Hare wrote two books, the first one in 1993 entitled Without Conscience: The Disturbing World of the Psychopaths Among Us, and more recently (2006) he co-authored a book with Dr. Paul Babiack entitled Snakes in Suits: When Psychopaths Go to Work.

In his first book Without Conscience…, Dr. Hare emphasized the following behavioural points about psychopaths:

Psychopaths are social predators who charm, manipulate, and ruthlessly plow their way through life, leaving a broad trail of bludgeoned bodies, broken hearts, shattered expectations and empty wallets. Completely lacking in conscience and with callous indifference to the feelings of others, they selfishly take what they want and do as they please, violating social norms without the slightest sense of guilt or regret. (p.69)

Now let us take the findings of Dr. Cleckley, Dr. Hare, and Dr. Babiack, and apply them to the history, behaviour, and documented acts of the prophet Mohammad. Before I move in that direction, allow me to point out the key fact that other psychiatric co-morbidities such as narcissism and other “personality disorders” can often exist side by side with psychopathy, making it very hard even for an expert to place the person under scrutiny in one category or another.

First, we will address the issue of sexual abuse in childhood. The circumstances under which Chairman Mo was sexually abused were explained in detail in the early segments of this essay. What remains to be addressed are the key points of how this painful experience shaped and coloured his attitude toward homosexuals, his obsessive-compulsive preoccupation with cleanliness, hatred for women (because as a child he was dirtied and used as a substitute travelling woman) and the projections he ascribed to Allah in the Koran.

It is undeniable that the prophet’s Allah had a strong repugnancy for homosexuals and his instructions were very clear in the Koran and the Hadith:

Of all the creatures in the world, will ye approach males, and leave the wives whom Allah has created for you to be your mates? Nay, ye are a people transgressing all limits. When a man mounts another man, the throne of Allah shakes. Kill the one that is doing it also kill the one that is being done to.

But throughout his entire career Chairman Mo struggled hard to balance political expediency with his personal biases. He hated the common practice of pederasty, but Arab tribal warriors, separated from their wives for long periods of time, hired as mercenary guards to escort caravans and defend them from marauding bandits, were so used to it that it was almost impossible for Chairman Mo to win their hearts and minds and mobilize them for the cause of Allah, if he applied a full ban on pederasty. He had to accept short-term personal pains in exchange for long-term glory. He reasoned that once the banner of the prophet flew over Mecca, Medina, and beyond he could settle scores with the pederasts.

Luckily he died without the agonizing pain of witnessing the practice of pederasty flourish from 632AD to our present day, from the battlefields of the Middle East to the palaces of the Caliphs in Baghdad; from Istanbul to the brothels (for pederasts) of Pakistan to the major cities of today’s Afghanistan. A documentary aired by PBS (still available free online) under the title of Bacha Bazi: The Dancing Boys of Afghanistan ( Producer Jamie Doran and Reporter Najibullah Quraishi, PBS Video) covered the topic in detail.

The prophet miscalculated the promises he made to lure to his cause the pederasts of Arabia, and his ability to contain them once they outlived their usefulness for him. He promised to the potential pederast soldiers of Allah an afterlife rewarded by plenty of boys in a “Heavenly Bordello”,

In it are rivers of water incorruptible; rivers of milk of which the taste never changes; rivers of wine, a joy to those who drink; and rivers of honey pure and clear. In it there are for them all kinds of fruits; and Grace from their Lord. Can those in such Bliss be compared to such as shall dwell for ever in the Fire, and be given, to drink, boiling water, so that it cuts up their bowels to pieces. (Koran 47:15)

And amongst them will be passed round vessels of silver and goblets of crystal… And they will be given to drink there of a Cup (of Wine) mixed with Zanjabil, — A fountain there, called Salsabil. And round about them will serve boys graced with eternal youth, youth of perpetual freshness: If thou seest them, thou wouldst think them scattered Pearls. And when thou lookest, it is there thou wilt see a Bliss and a Realm Magnificent Upon them will be green Garments of fine silk and heavy brocade, and they will be adorned with Bracelets of silver; and their Lord will give to them to drink of a Wine Pure and Holy. “Verily this is a Reward for you, and your Endeavour is accepted and recognised.” (Koran 76:15-22)

It was these verses that two centuries later the Arab poet (of Persian descent) Abu Nuwas (750AD-810AD) ridiculed and wrote: “For young boys the girls I have left behind, and for old wine set clear water out of my mind, I delight in what the Book [the Koran] forbids, and flee what is allowed.” In his infamous writings, Abu Nuwas argued that only a God devoid of logic will forbid the consumption of wine and pederasty in his earthly kingdom and allow both with endless abundance in his heavenly realm. An argument that caught the attention of Caliph Mohammad Al Amin, the son of Harun Al Rashid, a libertine who opened his palace to Abu Nuwas, and shared with him his refined taste for wine and boys.

Abu Nuwas failed to discern that the Book/the Koran was written by a psychopath who was parading in Arabia as a prophet to further his political dreams of grandeur designed to bury his painful feelings of a dirtied boy.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
Due to restrictions of time and space (and other considerations), I will have to stop here and without any concrete promises indicate to my readers that I will at some point in the future write Part 3 to complete my psychological profile analysis of the psychopath/prophet Mohammad. As any profiler working for a major law enforcement agency would say: “It is easy to get into the mind of a criminal psychopath, but to come out is a major challenge”. I need time and distance from the subject to come out of the world of the psychopath where my heart and mind were the ineluctable victims of gruesome horror.

Paleovirology is one of my favorite topics to read about. Whether its bringing extinct viruses back to life, or finding ancient HIV-1 integration sites, or finding millions of year old viruses in genomes, or studying the modern side-effects of ancient viral infections, I love old viruses just about as much as modern ones.

I even like wild guessing concerning ancient viruses, like this pic from Ancient Egypt:
We *think* this fellow has a bum leg and a cane because of polio!

And there were several 'plagues' that ravaged Ancient Greece. Scientists and scholars have proposed various pathogens, including viruses, could have been the causes of these plagues.

Its all a bit of fun paleovirology!

Whats not fun? This lolcrap (via Tara):

Influenza or not influenza: Analysis of a case of high fever that happened 2000 years ago in Biblical time

This could have been a good bit of fun. I dont believe any story in the Bible any more than I believe any of Aesops fables or Greek mythology, but even I think it could be fun to hypothesize on what the authors of the Bible 'meant', in their own primitive way, when a character "lay sick" with some kind of fever.

According to Mark 1:29 to 33 and Matthew 8:14-15, the mother-in-law of Simon Peter "lay sick" with a febrile illness. When Jesus took her by the hand and lifted her up, the fever immediately left. The lady began to serve the household and probably prepared a meal. The case is also described in the gospel by Luke (Luke 4:38-39), who was a physician in his days and he specifically mentioned that the fever was high.

This paper fails (that is, of the many reasons why this paper fails, this is one) because these authors literally believe this event happened and are treating it as a literal "case study". Not a fun game. Its like, the authors arent hypothesizing to the genetic and physiological mechanisms by which Heracles could have been born stronger than the average man as a mental game. They literally believe Heracles existed and was stronger than the average man, and here is why. They treat this event like a plague in Athens that really, historically happened... and then back it up with no history or real science.

Its an apologetics paper.

Contaminating science with religion. Creating an abominable vanilla-chocolate twisty ice-cream cone of an actual fun thing, a real thing we do in science, hypothesizing on historic or fictional stories:

The Bible does not describe if any members of the family including Andrew and Simon developed febrile illness, before or subsequent to her febrile illness. The characteristic features of seasonal influenza include abrupt onset of fever, chills, non-productive cough, myalgias, headache, nasal congestion, sore throat, and fatigue. The diagnosis is mainly clinical. Seasonal influenza would be less likely if no members of the family were affected. Avian influenza and other respiratory viruses may cause isolated infection without efficient human-to-human transmission. In any case, influenza-like illness due to a respiratroy virus would explain her symptomatology and clincial course.

... with religion.

One final consideration that one might have is whether the illness was inflicted by a demon or devil.

Ugh, gross.

It was probably accepted on the terms that it was a fun game: Hey, what illness could this character in the Bible have had? What poison might this Shakespearean character have used? What kind of mental illness could have inspired the 'madness' of Dionysus?

But the authors didnt treat it as 'fun'. They treated it as reality, and its stupid. And the reviewers should have noted that just by reading the first sentence of the goddamn abstract:

The Bible describes the case of a woman with high fever cured by our Lord Jesus Christ.

Its been retracted. Cue Christian persecution in science in 3... 2... 1...Read the comments on this post...

Desire by Anna Clark, reviewed by Emily Brand.

If you were granted four wishes, what would you choose? One medieval comic tale tells of a frustrated peasant woman who immediately elects that her husband be endowed with extra genitals, all over his body. He retaliates by.....
 

.... wishing the same upon his wife, perhaps hoping to finally satiating their excessive lust. However, unable to negotiate the surfeit of body parts, they use their final wishes to return to normality. At the same time that this story amused the masses, the Church venerated the martyrdom of the 13 year-old Agnes, who in the years of fledgling Christianity chose to be beheaded rather than suffer the death of her chastity.

Throughout history, the European imagination has been simultaneously captivated and troubled by sexual desire. In times of moral stringency, the cautionary literature and regulatory institutions themselves gave the public titillating glimpses of forbidden pleasures. Tapping into this undying curiosity about sexuality, the latest book from North American historian Anna Clark takes these ambiguous attitudes towards sexual desire as its starting point. No stranger to the naughtier side of history, her previous works - including surveys of medieval sexual politics and eighteenth-century lesbianism – reflect the recent wider historical interest in sexual matters. Desire: A History of European Sexuality takes an ambitious step and offers a sweeping review of over two and a half thousand years of sexual beliefs, practices and passions – and at little more than 200 pages (plus a remarkable mass of footnotes), it is a wonder she achieves her feat so effectively.

In twelve short chapters, Clark illustrates the competing concepts of desire as a creative or a corrupting force, and explores shifting responses to one all-important question – does indulging desire represent a road to ruin or revelation? Organising her material in a loosely chronological order, the journey takes the reader from the ancient Greek marital bed to same-sex desire in medieval Italy, the sexual regulations of Nazism and beyond.

Giving a colourful impression of the changing values of society, Clark skillfully charts how the influence of religion, advancing medical knowledge and the explosion of print culture impacted upon the world of sex. Yet, it also becomes clear that certain ‘twilight moments’ and ‘moral panics’ persist and resurface under different guises according to prevailing social values. Thus, worries about the effeminacy of young men are reflected in Ancient Rome and Georgian England, and the persecution of prostitution often correlates with stronger romantic notions about love and marriage.
The understanding of sex (in moderation, of course) as a means of preserving female health not only rendered it essential for the medieval widow but also for the ‘hysterics’ of the 1950s housewife.

Drawing from a rich fund of primary sources - as well as an impressive array of secondary material - Desire is a highly engaging read and manages to entertain without forgoing more theoretical scholarly evaluation. Clark’s arguments are brought to life with personal experiences including that of a Victorian homosexual with an unfortunate proclivity for propositioning policemen, and a disenchanted newly-wed doctor who meets her husband’s sexual efforts with the put-down “Peter, I find this a bore.”

Encompassing such an ambitious breadth of cultural traditions and belief systems, it is inevitable that the text tends to only flirt with topics that deserve more in-depth exploration, and in places feels more like a collection of essays than a book. However, these limitations are allayed by the fact that Clark offers comprehensive ‘suggested reading’ lists at the end of each chapter, and persistently refocuses her ideas around the often contradictory ideals of sexual behaviour.

The subject matter of Desire is likely to inspire wide interest, and indeed it is written in an accessible style that will appeal to both students and anyone with an enthusiasm for history and exploring cultural difference. While giving a useful account of how ideas about reproduction and pleasure were disentangled, Clark succeeds in her promise of offering glimpses of sexuality without treating its history as one of progression and liberation. Desire presents a valuable introduction to the topic, calling attention to the importance of conceiving of sexual beliefs on their own cultural terms as well as offering a critique of methods of researching a past that has often been veiled in secrecy.

Emily Brand is a writer and social historian, with a special interest in the history of women and sexuality in the long eighteenth century. She also blogs about satire and caricatures of the Georgian era at www.theartistsprogress.blogspot.com.

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		+	* Hinduism has gods (Brahma, Vishnu, Maheswara) and goddesses (Durga, Lakshmi, Saraswati, Gayatri)
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		+	* Ancient Roman, Greek and Egyptian religions also had gods and goddesses.
	[[Category:Religion]]		[[Category:Religion]]
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StarCraft II: Wings of Liberty launched last night at midnight, so start applying that balm to your index finger right now, because you're going to need it. This is one of the most anticipated games in the history of mouse-clicking, and it will send waves through online gaming. Especially in South Korea, where it has become a competitive sport with its own peripheral industries.

But the original game came out in 1998, which means that an entire generation has missed out on the entire struggle between the Protoss, the Terrans, the Zerg, and their continuing struggle for dominance in a remote part of the Milky Way galaxy. Since we don't want you to miss out on this game, which is definitely worth getting, we've created a guide to bring you up to speed.

Of course, you could just download both StarCraft and the Brood War expansion pack for only $14.99 and play your way through it as fast as possible over many hours. But if you feel like a compact, capsulized version, here you go. Needless to say, but if you don't want to be spoiled, steer clear.

Who

The Terrans: These are humans who were exiled from Earth in the far future, and they have been sent to colonize distant worlds. They end up settling in the distant Koprulu Sector of the galaxy, but don't play very nice with each other. The exiles form their own governments and square off against each other. One government group, the Confederacy of Man is very heavy-handed when it comes to governing, and they inspire a terrorist group called the Sons of Korhal to start acting out. 

Major Players

• Jim Raynor: Raynor first appears in the game as a marshall on Mar Sara, a Terran colony that has become threatened by both the Zerg and the Protoss. During a Zerg attack and while trying to protect the colony, he is arrested by the Confederacy. Later he is freed and fights in the rebellion against them with the Sons of Korhal. Eventually, he leaves the group when its leader abandons Sarah Kerrigan to death. Raynor and Kerrigan had become very close, and this deeply affects Raynor. He forms his own group, Raynor's Raiders, and enlists the help of several friends.
• Arcturus Mengsk: Although originally a member of the Conderatacy, Mengsk formed the rebllious Sons of Korhal after his parents and sister were assassinated. This led to a brutal nuclear attack on Korhal, and caused Mengsk to start using extreme measures in his fight against them. Raynor discovers that he has been using the Zerg to attack Confederate targets, and when the Confederate base on Tarsonis is destroyed, he crowns himself Emperor.
• Sarah Kerrigan: Kerrigan is a Ghost agent in the ranks of Mengsk's who develops a close relationship with Jim Raynor until she is betrayed by Mengsk himself and left to die amongst the Zerg. However, the Zerg turn her into a Terran/Zerg hybrid with powerful mental abilities. Look for more on her in the Brood War section, since that was mainly her dark and terrible title..
• Tychus Findlay: Findlay is a new character to the StarCraft games, having first been seen in the StarCraft II teaser trailer being locked into his Marine power armor. However, he was first introduced in the novel Heaven's Devils. He fought alongside Jim Raynor in the Confederacy, before becoming an outlaw in the rebellion. He was captured and put in jail, but escapes by the start of Starcraft II, and has joined up with Raynor again.
• Gabriel Tosh: Tosh is a rastafarian-looking spectre, an elite Ghost agent who has had his powers amped with terrazine, a mysterious psionic reagant that is highly sought after in the StarCraft universe. Tosh made his debut in the Spectres novel, and it a cutthroat arms dealer who doesn't always choose the mortal high ground.

The Protoss: The Protoss are humanoid race of beings who have developed psionic abilities, and use very advanced technology like warp gates and phase cannons. The Protoss who believe in the main religion of the Protoss, called the Khala, are referred to as Khalai. This religion focuses on a psionic link between each member of the Protoss, and those who reject Khala are called the Nerazim, or Dark Templars. They cut their nerve appendages so as to sever that link. 

Major Players

• Tassadar: Tassadar is a high templar in amongst the Protoss and holds a high rank in the Khalai. He is the commander of the fleet that wipes out a Terran colony, although he rejects his orders to continue destroying worlds and confronts the Zerg head on. He later teams up with the Dark Templar Zeratul, and Jim Raynor. He dies fighting a Zerg invasion of Aiur, the Protoss homeworld.
• Zeratul: Zeratul is a mysterious Dark Templar who befriends Tassadar and teaches him how to use Dark Templar energies. After the attack on Aiur, Zeratul tries to unite the remaining Khalai with the remaining Dark Templars. He is very secretive and often speaks in Yoda-like riddles. He has been journeying on his own looking for information about the Xel'Naga, an ancient and mysterious race.

The Zerg: These are an insect-like race that mutate into different forms rather than using technology. They are controlled by a hive mind, and strive to create a perfect race by assimilating other races, much like the Borg. They are generally the bad guys in the story, and are fighting a two-way war with both the Protoss and the Terrans.

Major Players

• The Overmind: This is a manifestation of the hive mind, which was actually created by the Xel'Naga when they were experimenting with the Zerg. When the Overmind became aware of the Xel'Naga, it assimilated them. The Overmind has targeted the Terrans because of their potential to develop psionic powers, and it wants to assimilate them to give them an advantage in the struggle against the Protoss.
• Cerebrates: These are sapient Zerg who command broods, and when they are slain their broods run amok. Cerebrates are genetically unable to disobey the Overmind, and several of them can merge together to form a new Overmind if need be. There are high-ranking Cerebrates in the Zerg, such as Daggoth who tutors you when you play the Zerg in StarCraft, and Zasz who is suspicious and untrusting of Kerrigan once she is turned.
• Sarah Kerrigan: Once Kerrigan is taken over by the Zerg, she proclaims herself to the Queen of Blades, and she goes from good girl to bad. She eventually takes over control of the entire Zerg swarm, and is pretty much a badass. Her design was inspired by Medusa from the Greek myths, and she is the focus of the Brood War expansion.

The Xel'Naga: An ancient race that features prominently in the world of StarCraft, as they genetically experimented on both the Protoss and the Zerg long ago. They have never been seen in the game, other than in the form of relics. 

 

 

Where

StarCraft unfolds in a very distant part of the Milky Way galaxy called the Koprulu Sector (or Terran Sector), more than 60,000 light years from our own Solar System. It exists near Protoss space, and the Zerg Quarantine Zone. It is a pretty dangerous place to be, especially since the events of the Brood War.

When

The eradication of a Terran colony world kicks off the events of StarCraft in December of 2499. The new game takes place four years after the conclusion of Brood War.

What

Why

There is a lot going on in the world of StarCraft, which has had its story expanded through several expansions and novels. 

Games

• StarCraft: In the original game, the Terrans are attacked by the Protoss and Zerg, eventually leading to the fall of the Confederacy of Man. Arcturus Mengsk, the leader of the rebels, crowds himself emperor of the Terran Dominion, and allows his second in command, Sarah Kerrigan, to be taken by the Zerg. This leads Jim Raynor to desert, taking a small faction with him. The Zerg launch an attack on the Protoss homeworld, only to be stopped by Tassafar, who sacrifices himself.
• Insurrection: This add-on pack designed by Aztech New Media was released in July of 1998, and was authorized by Blizzard. It focuses on a single Terran colony during the events of the first campaign in the original game. Since release, it has been somewhat disowned by Blizzard, who doesn't comment on it. 
• Retribution: This expansion was developed by Stardock and released in late 1998. It focuses on obtaining a powerful crystal left behind by the Xel'Naga, and players took control of each of the three races in trying to retrieve the crystal from a Dominion colony. Like Insurrection, it seems not to exist in the official Blizzard StarCraft world.
• Brood War: This 1998 expansion was developed by Blizzard and Saffire, and is about the Protoss and the previous unheard from Earth government and their concern over the Zerg and Sarah Kerrigan's increasing power as the Queen of Blades. It introduced many new units, fixed balanced issues, and was widely praised. If you purchase the StarCraft II: Wings of Liberty special edition, you'll get both StarCraft and Brood War on a USB drive styled to look like Jim Raynor's dogtags.
• StarCraft: Ghost: This game was meant to tell the story of Nova, a Ghost espionage agent in the Terran Dominion, and was to be set four years after Brood War. It has been on eternal hold, and was being developed at the time for the GameCube, Xbox, and PlayStation 2.

Novels

• StarCraft: Uprising: This novel was released as an e-book in 2000, and deals with Sarah Kerrigan's backstory.
• StarCraft: Liberty's Crusade: Set during the first campaign in StarCraft, this book follows a journalist through the story. 
• StarCraft: Shadow of the Xel'Naga: This book links the story of both StarCraft and Brood War together.
• StarCraft: Speed of Darkness: This follows a single marine through the early events of StarCraft. These first four books were released together in 2007 as The StarCraft Archive. 
• StarCraft: Queen of Blades: This book tells the story of the second StarCraft campaign from Jim Raynor's point of view.
• StarCraft Ghost: Nova: This was meant to be published along with the forever-delayed StarCraft: Ghost game, but when the game never appeared Blizzard decided to publish the book anyhow. It follows the character Nova, a Ghost agent.
• StarCraft: The Dark Templar Saga: This is a trilogy of books meant to span the gap StarCraft and StarCraft II. It consists of the books Firstborn, Shadow Hunters, and Twilight.
• StarCraft: I, Mengsk: This novel follows the Mengsk family, and focuses on young Arcturus Mengsk.
• StarCraft Ghost: Spectres: This book follows the continuing adventures of Nova.
• StarCraft II: Heaven's Devils: This first StarCraft II novel focuses on 18 year old Jim Raynor, and the friendship he forges with Tychus Findlay.

Weird

The original StarCraft and its Brood War expansion, along with a new "Resurrection IV" mission were ported to the Nintendo 64 in 2000 as StarCraft 64, which marks the only appearance of the StarCraft series on a console.

Surprisingly, a highly-rated StarCraft board game has been released, and it even has its own Brood War expansion set. It features hundreds of plastic pieces, and requires some patience to learn. 

The original StarCraft was used in the U.S. Air Force to teach officers about crisis planning and working under stress. If you've ever played an online match, you know how important this can be. 

In the merchandise arena, you can now purchase StarCraft statues, action figures, comic books, model kits, messenger bags, clothing, and a tabletop role-playing game. This is after 12 years of the original game, so who knows what the sequels will spawn.

So what are you waiting for? Get out there and start clicking!