Man of Steel: A Superman movie?

(Spoiler free)

Man of Steel is one of those movies that are best described as “polarising”. The source of this, for a large part of it, appears to be conflicting expectations in imagery - or perhaps a conflict between what imagery will be accepted by different people - akin to what Batman faced in 1980. By the decade preceding Tim Burton’s first live action outing with the Dark Knight, Batman’s comic books had already returned him to the film noir, morally ambiguous roots of the character’s 1940s beginnings. A move which worked to completely divorce the title from Adam West, giggling goons, bright 1960s colours and Riddler riddles whose solutions honestly defied all logic; sensical and nonsensical alike.

As hilariously enjoyable as Cesar Romero was on TV and as much fun as people might have had reading 1960s comic books about a hero solving crime with the help of oversized novelty items and the taste of delicious sponsor-provided fruit pies, this depiction didn’t sum up the be-all and end-all of the character. More than that had always been possible and more than that was being explored again. When Tim Burton’s first Batman movie was released in 1980, quite a lot of people were bitter about the shadowy streets, emotional baggage and homicidal villains.

This brings us back to Man of Steel. I’m not for one second trying to dismissively argue that anyone who doesn’t like this movie is stuck in an old fashioned era that doesn’t have a place anymore. 2012s superhero team epic, The Avengers, tossed every spangly-coloured, comedic one-liner spewing, comic-book-science talking, American idealist cliché at the audience that it could lay its hands on.

And it was brilliant.

I’m also not arguing that people who dislike this movie must be people who react negatively in general to movies termed “dark”. However, one reason commonly given by people for why they didn’t like Man of Steel is that “it’s not Superman”. In one respect, I agree with this. But, by using it as a reason for dislike, I think they’re missing the point, for a number of reasons.

Firstly, it may be important to mention that the atmosphere of Richard Donner’s 1978 Superman movie is sourced from a different comic book “age” than Man of Steel is. Donner’s Superman draws from the Silver Age of comic books (usually considered to have lasted from 1956 to around 1970), which is largely famous for its new-powers-as-the-plot-demands approach. Superman flying around the Earth so quickly that its rotation reverses, causing time itself to also reverse, is a good example of this. As is his ability to grab at his chest ‘S’ shield, inexplicably peel off a plastic duplicate of it and throw it at an enemy to trap them inside it for a few moments, shown in that movie’s sequel.

Now, I’m a big fan of Donner’s Superman but if I were to come up with a list of reasons why I enjoy watching it, the list would be two items long: Christopher Reeve and Margot Kidder. It probably should count as three, since, with his performances as both Clark Kent and Superman, Reeve is really acting twice and both acts are sublime.

It’s just the rest of it that I end up, for the most part, simply tolerating rather than liking. Lex Luthor pulling accurate information about kryptonite, out of nowhere, from an old book he has sitting on his shelf and surmising (with equal accuracy) that the substance will be lethal to Superman? The round, bumbling, useless henchman whose sole purpose within the movie, his role as comic relief, can only be accepted if we broaden the definition of the word comedy to mean “anything that happens on-screen”? It’s enough to make me want to yell at the TV to tell it to stop being so stupid.

That, however, is just my opinion about elements of the movie. Completely subjective. I’m not about to argue that it’s, in any way, not a true depiction of a Superman movie. Like Batman, Superman isn’t any singular portrayal. Having existed in publication for over 70 years, many different character elements and/or storytelling tones have been explored in his comic books across decades. A reader of this may say, “I don’t read comic books” and that’s perfectly fine. Millions of people don’t. But, then, by what basis can one judge a single depiction as not the “true” one, against all of that history?

Adam West in tights may not be to everybody’s liking but he’s still Batman, equally as much as Michael Keaton or Christian Bale are.

Secondly, I mentioned that I agreed with the “it’s not Superman” claim in one respect. I don’t agree with the argument that it can’t truly be Superman because of blue filter added to the photography or because he’s not wearing his little red undies or because a city faces trillions of dollars worth in collateral damage from super-powered face punching, or for any other consequences of physical confrontations. Many of these details have to do with the fact that Man of Steel sources its tone from the Modern Age of comic books. I’m arguing that the character isn’t quite Superman because that’s intentional on the part of the director.

I know a lot of us frequently moan, “not another origin story!” but we, honestly, really need them. Apart from the fact that any filmmaker, on some level, has to lay down groundwork for how their particular film’s universe works (in relevant rules, history and continuity), there’s also the fact that it’s ultimately unsatisfying to walk in on an already matured and morally cemented character. Additionally, Superman is a character who, among the mainstream, has long been plagued by the belief that he’s too physically capable and personally perfect to be interesting. Man of Steel had to tackle that belief head on.

A man who becomes a paragon of virtue and optimism, despite fighting against atrocities, super-villainy and the isolation that comes with being the only one like himself on the planet, over years, is a compelling story. A man who simply is such a paragon is much less compelling.

Anyone who dislikes this movie is free to dislike it, if that’s their taste. I’ll readily admit that I think it has weaknesses, both technical and storytelling in nature. People can also feel that it’s not their favourite depiction of Superman so far. But if we’re going to judge this version’s characterisation fully, we should arguably wait until more of the life story is fleshed out, rather than judging it solely on, what is clearly, only chapter one.

I do still miss those little red undies though.

Lord Of The Flies In London

Most people by now should be aware of the violence and arson that occurred in London recently, spread over multiple days. Both the rioting, triggered by the police shooting of an armed man they were arresting, and the sweeping destruction, which followed it, cooked up for the feast of self-centred apathy and opportunism that participants gorged themselves on. Photos of the burning streets and ashen car wrecks can be found all over the internet – such as here – and show some evidence of the cost of the long hours. What haunted me the most wasn’t the smoke, the exploding shop-fronts, the debris or the terrified children. It was the complete pointlessness of these actions and the endangerment they caused. This wasn’t a true protest. None of it was an effective bite back at a hypothetical system full of abuse. It wasn’t a last stand for personal defence in a war of ideologies that had escalated tragically. Witnessing these photos calls to mind images from films like Children of Men: a city of hollowed out car shells, of simple but practical explosive cocktails and of urban youth militias formed for reasons of bland angry self-interest. The other night, I came across a few clips of the action as it unfolded. One of them, following this link, shows a student on the street, back against a wall, bleeding, probably frightened and apparently without help nearby. A small group of random strangers appear to come to his aid and help the man up to his feet – only to take this as an opportunity to steal from the young man’s now exposed backpack and walk away.

There’s an expectation, at least in the democratic Western world, that large-scale, unlawful, fiery acts are intrinsically attached to firm, deep-seeded, life-affirming cultural demonstrations; such as political revolutions, clashing religious ideologies, self-preservation amidst war, etc. This expectation probably comes from Hollywood and us being raised by its sweeping vigilante battles for Truth, Justice and the “American way”. It’s something of a let-down to find all of this primal chest-beating and Molotov-cocktail-throwing being purely for reasons of snatching a free mobile phone or TV (although, maybe it shouldn’t be, since super cheap electrical goods does sound like at least part of an “American way”). The self-confessed pointlessness, the lack of even delusions of moral victories to be had, is the most disappointing, I think. The private property damage and hospitalisations, alongside this, is flat-out disgusting.

The most shocking lesson for me as a young teenager was that adulthood, outside of simple legal distinctions, effectively means nothing. Before then, I had always lived under the assumption that, upon growing up, the mess of childhood bullshit would be left behind. An assumption that, while some people may not be educated as well as others or might have vastly different areas of expertise or needs, that, deep down, adults at least always told the truth as they understood it, that pettiness, lying for the sake of lying and purposeful victimisation were purely a symptom of a child’s mind. The knowledge that those things never go away and that adulthood only makes people more influential and more capable of these things than they were earlier was, perhaps, the second most perspective altering lesson I ever had. What may be in first place didn’t really come to me until I was a young man and it’s this: many people live under the assumption of cultural and/or moral improvements being made over centuries (or, at least, broad changes subjectively seen as “improvements”). We make exclamations, for example, of our surprise that same-sex marriage is not uniformly legal in an advanced time like 2011. And it’s true that each successive generation is more informed medically and scientifically than the previous one. However, one day – if our species is still alive – it will be the year 3011 but, as far as our behaviour shows, it will be no different than our Bronze Age, so many thousands of years ago. And that might never change.

Tim Burton’s Alice In Female-Eunuch-Land

I recently re-watched the Tim Burton directed version of ‘Alice in Wonderland’ after seeing it for the first time sometime last year. However much its world design looks amazing, it never really wowed me as an experience. It’s not bad enough to be adorably inept either, though, so it’s all the more painful for reasons of simple mediocrity. More specifically, something about Alice’s character always irked me from my very first viewing. What bothered me the first time was Alice’s character not matching her period in history; being made into a sort of proto-feminist role-model, apparently independent and outspoken before such things would have actually been allowed for her. Like some sort of hipster girl who could write a slogan that read, “I was a feminist before feminism was invented.” It’s the old codger history buff in me, perhaps, for not liking this movie to pretend that 1800’s England was anything like this for women. However, I understand that not many people want to see an adventure film with a main character that’s a man-handled and socio-politically restricted young woman. Also, given that it’s a movie with a female lead and has Johnny Depp playing a prominent role, it was a foregone conclusion that hordes of girls were going to see this thing, and it’s nice for them to be able to see something where a woman isn’t a whore, or simply the main character’s girlfriend, and who might be made into a warrior instead. For that, I was willing to let the issue go.

But it wasn’t until my second viewing that I realise what my problem with it really is and why this movie bugged me more than a little. What bugs me is that Alice isn't really warrior enough. Not in the way she should be. She isn't supposed to be a proto-feminist role model, out of sync with her own time period, she's a girl who's trying to make sense of nonsense! In the books (and the original animated Disney film of the story) she’s actually much more of a feminist because she challenged beliefs that didn't make sense. In Burton's version, she's simply going along with everything and insisting they've all got the wrong girl even as she consistently proves them right. The wrap-up at the end of the film is pretty pathetic as well. Her character didn't change that much and really wasn’t given any reason to. Alice doesn’t fight the Jabberwock for herself, so why on earth would she have been altered by the experience? She fought it only because others wanted her to - not a very feminist idea. And then, because of that, we’re supposed to imagine that she suddenly has strength where she didn’t before? The “feminism” is all superficial lip-service, as it is for so many films, amounting to not much more than advertising buzz-words like “edgy,” “young” and “in-your-face” without much care for what the character’s actually do or believe.

Pictured (from left to right): The Hatter, Alice, The White Queen

Absent: Feminism

The Hatter doing his “futterwacken” at the end of the battle is also probably one the most asinine things I’ve ever seen.

Antitheism, Part 2: Theism Is Too High A Price To Pay For Salvation

“Faith: not wanting to know what is true.”

FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE

I don’t want this to become a blog of solely antitheist posts (despite how fun discussing this stuff is). However, it has been said that my first antitheism entry – two posts down – is, somewhat, incomplete in that its arguments and disagreements perhaps only apply to more conservative, literalist religious interpretations and not to modern, progressive ones. I believe it does cover those as well (in fact, I believe it especially applies to such people) but if my words don’t fully show that then maybe I need to return to the subject and clarify things.

To begin with, let me say that, however much some people seem to complain about it, or call it crude or simplistic, some rigidity in structure is required for this debate. No matter how individual beliefs and faiths might be, there are existing linguistic definitions for these things. It is these definitions that I’m drawing upon as a base for my arguments, as much as I try to keep topics like these unrestricted. If you feel my position is unclear or false after this post then I would suggest that this is mostly a matter of quibbling over minor word choices, rather than any problems of being logically or theologically incorrect here. If I do my job right, these beliefs – and, more importantly, my perspective on them – should be clear enough and able to be agreed upon, provided we’re all using the same reasoning skills. Everything that follows comes under the assumption of liberal, progressive theist believers and assumes things like belief in scientific evidence, that evolution does occur, that homosexuality is not a sin, that planet Earth developed over billions of years and the book of Genesis is not historical fact, etc.

The three major “eism” umbrellas, in essentials, are:

Deism – the belief that the universe is a creation of a creator. This creator does not intervene in or care specifically about each being within the universe. Beyond the act of creation, everything is left to run its own course.

Theism – the belief in a creator god, or creating gods, who are active in the governance, organisation and judging of the universe and/or its inhabitants.

Pantheism – the belief that the universe and god are identical. That what people might call “God” is not a personal, anthropomorphic being but is, rather, simply existence itself.

Once again, I’m not saying which one is factually true or which one isn’t (since no one can do that). I’m simply stating my disapproval of one of these belief systems, whether it’s true or not, and saying that I believe humanity should live as if it wasn’t true either way. Theism is the problem and, by its very nature, remains a problem even if we assume a progressive theism. If one is truly progressive then one doesn’t really need theism in their life. Progressive theism isn’t progressive enough. “Progressive theism” is, in fact, an oxymoron.

In many cases, whether they realise it or not, otherwise progressive people are being held back by theism, either via belief or old habits. Example: I have modern-minded Christian friends who don’t believe the Bible is the literal truth but that it is a product of its time, with many values that we should consider unacceptable today (the subjugation of women and condemnation of homosexuals being two obvious ones). However, over issues such as, say, capital punishment or abortion, these friends would quote Bible passages as an authority for their position. Once you deny the absolute truth of the Bible, though, you instantly make it not an authority on anything. You may agree with that particular statement within it but that is coincidence. You might as well quote something by Oscar Wilde or Ayn Rand that you agree with (like me quoting someone at the beginning of this post). Unless you believe that a “Holy” text, like the Bible, is absolutely God’s word – even the bits you might not end up agreeing with God about – then quoting the Bible doesn’t mean anything more than the words of anybody else. It’s no more relevant than quoting me. So, for the remainder of this post, we can dismiss the Bible as a source of God’s thoughts or desires. It’s now a volume of literature or philosophy, with parts you can agree or disagree with. If there is a God, there may be passages of this philosophy that do agree with God’s desires but those match-ups are coincidental and we have no idea which ones do and which ones don’t. We can include all Jewish and Islamic scriptures in this too. Reading them can now be likened to reading The Iliad.

This is where modern-minded, progressive theism gets people stuck in a loop, like a dog that was trained to chase its tail for reasons it doesn’t understand. People too educated to believe in a woman being constructed from a man’s rib, born into a culture too liberal to condone stoning a disobedient child to death and too soft-hearted to want to exclude others are, nonetheless, conditioned to believe in an all-aware supreme entity that wants certain things of us all, while wanting us to avoid other things at the same time. A supposed entity whose ways are not our ways, whose ideals are not our ideals, whose reasons for instructing us are beyond our understanding; so that we might not always like these ideals, since they don’t fit into human comprehension. Except that, surprise, surprise, we always do agree with our God’s ideals! Coincidentally, everything a person believes in or thinks is nice seems to be exactly what their God really wants and anything that they believe is disagreeable or disturbing clearly isn’t what their God would want. Those old values from another culture aren’t true but the ones I currently believe in here obviously are! Because God, apparently, updates his morality every Earth decade, or so, just like humanity does. And, despite our narrow human comprehension, people always seem to be able to explain exactly why God would or wouldn’t really like something. There seems to be no lack of belief that people have in their own understanding. I could ask five Christian friends what they think is right by God in any given issue and they would each give me a different answer, or reason for that answer, than another person.

Ask yourself this question of which is more likely: that there is a God who created morality, who wants for us to live a certain way, following its morality and that this morality just happens to match all the values and ideals you like, with none that you don’t like, or is it more likely that, even if there is a God, none of us have any idea what it wants or doesn’t want?

There’s nothing to suggest that anything is, in fact, what God likes or dislikes at all. We’ve already dismissed scripture as the unquestioned source of these laws and ideals. There’s nothing else that suggests what they definitely are.

Because of this, there is no reason to believe – or pretend – that we’re, successfully or unsuccessfully, living according to the rules of any God. Even this should be enough. I can leave out whole paragraphs of my last post about the problems if theism is true; the celestial dictatorship (which it still is, regardless of if it’s benign and if you agree with its laws, all the mechanics within that paragraph still apply), the problems of divine reward and divine punishment, and if they even exist or not. All of it. You can re-read that post, all while you assume the presence of the most soft, cuddly, forgiving, patient, generous God you can think of, with rules that only encompass serenity and compassion that you love and agree with. Assume any kind of God. Each person is still left with nothing but assumptions and nothing outside their own desires or moral values to indicate if they’re navigating this God’s rules to its satisfaction or not. Before we even know if theism could remotely be true or not, we’re not even close to having a handle on what its rules are, even if it’s true. And what kind of rule system is that? It's like a maze with invisible walls.

Most of the religious people I know personally don’t even believe in anything like Hell anyway, so I’m not sure what they’re really worried about. Hurting God’s feelings? After all this time, do we find out that this omniscient, omnipotent, infinite being is really The Racist Dragon Who Just Wanted To Be Hugged?

If you believe, or wish to believe, that the universe and everything within it was created by someone or something – go for it. It might be true, it might not be true. Being created, in and of itself, doesn’t cause problems. Personal interest and ideology causes problems. Every progressive thinking person has concluded together that religious fundamentalists have deluded themselves into thinking they know the will of an unseen, unknowable God. No progressive person should make the same mistake. For all we know, this might be a universe with a God (or gods) but, as far as we know, this is also a universe without a theistic God. We don’t need the morality of one to have morality and we don’t need the conflict and bullshit of trying to second guess what kind of theistic God it might, maybe, possibly be making rules. It’s time to own up and admit that it’s our own desires and laws that we’re living for, without a clue of anyone else’s. Our sex lives and self-respect can’t take this theism stuff much longer.

On The Origin of Andrew Chalker By Means of Historical Hitchhiking

Sir Isaac Newton once famously wrote, of his own scientific endeavours and discoveries, in comparison to those of others’, “If I have seen a little further it is by standing on the shoulders of Giants.” Given the use of the fingers on both of my hands and fifteen seconds to do it in, I could readily list a dozen or more names of people that I – for one reason or another – feel a deep intellectual and/or emotional kinship with and gratitude for; people without whom I would not have developed the qualities that I value most in myself. The twist? Many of them are people I have never met. Some were even dead before I was born. These names would include philosophers, musicians, writers, scientists and comedians (among other things). Having been born late in the previous century, many of the events, people or concepts that are so significant to me come from generations other than my own. This has created a certain experience of looking at existence in a rear view mirror as a newly picked up hitchhiker; seeing the sights passed by without having driven through them yourself. Perhaps the best way to describe it would be a kind of “lostalgia”: nostalgia for something gone that you didn’t discover until it was too late to have. How many times have I read a book, fallen in love with it, researched the author and discovered that he or she died ten or more years ago? And, worse, that this small sample of their abilities is all I, and the world, will ever have from now on. The train has finished its journey and all you can do is stand by its rusted remains, enjoying thoughts of what it must have been and could have achieved if it was still working alongside you. In memory of some of the people I’ve witnessed in my hitchhiking that give me this feeling, I will litter my writing with some of their words.

He who lives as children live — who does not struggle for his bread and does not believe that his actions possess any ultimate significance — remains childlike. - Friedrich Nietzsche

Certain examples are met easily and don’t require much adjustment. John Lennon’s murder three years before my birth, for example, is a prominent piece of mental furniture in our pop culture. Like a couch you’ve walked passed every day since you were an infant. These are the John Keats’, the Vincent Van Goghs, the Sylvia Plaths and the James Deans of our history and, along with their influential talents, their status as dead people was always part of their fame (from my birth onwards, at least). In fact, in the case of people like Van Gogh, had I been alive in his time, it’s likely I wouldn’t have known who he was at all and it’s only my living so long after his death that allows me to witness his work so readily. What do require adjustments are the George Harrisons, the Katharine Hepburns, the George Carlins and the Hunter S. Thompsons. Those whom were witnessed, in real time, making the transition from reassuring world presence to nonexistence.

I find that by putting things in writing I can understand them and see them a little more objectively ... For words are merely tools and if you use the right ones you can actually put even your life in order, if you don't lie to yourself and use the wrong words. - Hunter S. Thompson

To take Hunter’s case specifically: I was already a young man, in my early twenties, by the time of his death in 2005. I had only seriously investigated him and his writing a year or two beforehand, though, so my time of being consciously aware of sharing planet Earth with this frenzied maniac of truth and passion, who spoke in a slurred baritone of word chunks, seemed so criminally brief. What I learned very quickly from this man was that rebellion and speaking out are valuable actions and skills. But you’d better do it with intelligence, you better be well informed and you better do it with integrity and heart. I had only just barely fallen in love with his prose, entering into a state of wanting to take Australian law by the throat and forcing it to allow me to be legally married to a piece of literature, or even just a paragraph for a few years, before I was staring not at the talents of a fellow primate but of a dead new mentor. I still frequently reread his work and watch interview clips he did to this day. Part of me rejoices in the lessons he keeps giving, while another part always mourns the loss of an intellectual comrade.

I had ambitions to set out and find, like, an odyssey or going home somewhere … This home that I’d left a while back and couldn’t remember exactly where it was but I was on my way there. And encountering what I encountered on the way was how I envisioned it all. I didn’t really have any ambition at all. I was born very far from where I’m supposed to be and, so, I’m on my way home, you know? - Bob Dylan

Consider three names: David Attenborough, Stephen Fry and Carrie Fisher. Assuming I live long enough to meet the average Australian life expectancy rate, I will live to see a world without those three people. I could repeatedly read and/or watch Youtube content about any of them and the world will literally change around me, moving from a day where I’m watching a piece of the decades-spanning work of a living world figure to the very next day where I’m watching an excerpt from the life of someone who used to be alive. All of these people can be very distinctly defined as singularities. There will be no replacement for them. If I were born a hundred years ahead of when I was, hitchhiking in an era beyond their deaths, would I still discover and be affected by them so thoroughly, as I have been?

There is no other species on the Earth that does science. It is, so far, entirely a human invention, evolved by natural selection in the cerebral cortex for one simple reason: it works. It is not perfect. It can be misused. It is only a tool. But it is by far the best tool we have; self-correcting, ongoing, applicable to everything. It has two rules. First: there are no sacred truths; all assumptions must be critically examined; arguments from authority are worthless. Second: whatever is inconsistent with the facts must be discarded or revised. We must understand the Cosmos as it is and not confuse how it is with how we wish it to be. - Carl Sagan

More recently, I’ve come to be influenced by the words and work of English-born American journalist Christopher Hitchens, a man famous for his intellect, his love of aggressive debate and, for some, simply as one of the most well-known and outspoken atheists today. It’s probably convenient that I would come to discover him now, over any other time in my life. Given the man’s far reaching vocabulary and experiences it’s likely that, however much I might have enjoyed pieces of his ideas when I was younger, I would not have understood half of his cultural or poetic references before now. Christopher’s literary and political knowledge encompasses a gargantuan amount of information, the consumption of which would possibly match the twelve labours of Hercules. His outspoken nature and passion for information makes him something of a next generation Hunter S. Thompson for me. This, sadly, is strengthened by the fact that Hitchens is suffering from oesophageal cancer, likely bringing the death of what could have been a long education alongside an also still developing human mind.

I don't feel that it is necessary to know exactly what I am. The main interest in life and work is to become someone else that you were not in the beginning. If you knew when you began a book what you would say at the end, do you think that you would have the courage to write it? What is true for writing and for a love relationship is true also for life. The game is worthwhile insofar as we don't know what will be the end. - Michel Foucault

Even having never met these people, I will still mourn on the days they each die and on all subsequent days, when I remember all I’ve learned from them and all that I might have continued to learn, given more time in the world with them. Knowledge, for its own sake, is important to me. Regardless of whether the studying you do will contribute to things like your chances of employment and income, or not, acquiring the information in itself is inherently valuable and meaningful. I am the person I am right now just as much because of the people – the famous dead or dying figures – that I have named here as much as from any formal, face-to-face schooling from teachers in buildings I’ve received. I’m constantly trying to learn; to extend and build upon whatever I am at any given point and, sometimes, it works. As mentioned, there are qualities that I hold in myself that I treasure significantly. However, if I have any wisdom, any courage, any generosity or any honesty, I assure you, it’s because I was hitchhiking in the wake of giants.

Antitheism or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Not Love God

“Of all the means which wisdom acquires to ensure happiness throughout the whole of life, by far the most important is friendship.”

EPICURUS

Proverbs 1:7 says, “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge”. I would not generally describe myself as a fearful person. There are, however, things that make me genuinely afraid. And I will admit that, buried between these ideological concerns, I am pleased to be confident that there is not a god (capitalised or otherwise) that I need to fear on top of everything else. Now, before I start making fresh enemies, I should perhaps clarify the varying levels of my position on God and their relevance to what will be coming in this writing. In the past I would have very easily described my position as one of simple atheism and would have been satisfied with that one word. Soon after, I would have added a kind of conditional clause in the form of one more word: cautious atheist. Strictly speaking, I don’t believe in the existence of a god. However, I am also aware that my disbelief guarantees nothing about that. There are a lot of reasons for my atheism, which I won’t recount here. It would take too long and it’s not really all that relevant. My actual relevant position is significantly more concise in explaining. That position is not of mere disbelief but of dissent and dissatisfaction. I don’t like the idea of God and I don’t want one to exist at all.

Many people in the world are glad – even proud – to be living within a democracy and its socio-political model seems to be expanding over the globe, albeit very slowly. It can be a frustrating experience but, at least, theoretically, its goals are encouragingly trying to move life towards self-determinism and equality. We in these democracies also often decry enslavement and totalitarianism as the opposition to these things. The big problem I have with theistic religion (monotheistic in particular) shaping the populace of the world isn’t just its out-dated dogma or laws – although those are disturbing – but the fact that their assumptions, if true, make any democratic struggle completely pointless. There is nothing democratic about religion or God.

Imagine for a moment that the scriptures are correct. That you are created by a being that absolutely holds and owns your existence in its entirety. A being that you never voted for, that will never leave Office, and that is the unchallengeable, unappealeable court judge and master. The Leader in an Orwellian totalitarian system. There is a line from Orwell’s novel Nineteen Eighty-Four that says of life in its culture, “Nothing was your own except the few cubic centimetres inside your skull.” Existence under the Abrahamic God doesn’t even allow you that much. Imagine yourself and your feelings being constantly watched. That nothing you want, dream, experience or do is really yours. That you can be convicted of thoughtcrime while awake or asleep. That you are, inherently from birth, corrupt but ordered to become good. Fulke Greville, the Elizabethan writer, wrote it so unforgettably:

“Oh wearisome condition of Humanity!
Born under one law, to another bound,
Vainly begot and yet forbidden vanity,
Created sick, commanded to be sound”

Imagine a universal dictatorship, which owns you for an infinite amount of time longer than any human government could ever hope to try to keep someone. From the moment you’re born (in fact, many say before that), throughout your life and even – and this is where the real fun begins – after you’re dead. Imagine judgement based on the incontestable decisions and whims of a subjective consciousness, which carries through eternally, with no concept of time served and no goal of simple rehabilitation. The absolute dictation of what your existence will forever be only begins after you have died. And, while this is happening, the entire purpose of your being is to praise and love your Leader. Every totalitarian regime in history, including this one, has excused such behaviour as “for their own good.” To accept this relationship on its own terms with open arms is to be either trusting to a terrible fault or to be consciously consenting to the total dismissal of your own ideals and will forever. This is the master/slave relationship. Anybody who has just imagined everything I’ve described and can still look me in the eye and very seriously say that they’re in favour of (let alone looking forward to) all of this must be a considerably optimistic gambler with their own, and other peoples’, fortunes. I can’t find this comforting and it honestly frightens me that people will not only wish this upon themselves but on the people I love too.

It also baffles me that people will make a god an exception to every ethical standard that they would hold anything else up to. I could read everything I’ve written here so far to many people and (I’m betting) the majority of them would respond with something similar to, “I see exactly what you mean. It is really like that … But it’s God!” Let’s examine this exceptional being. I have an older brother, one of the people in the world I respect the most, who is gay: a love and sexuality that is overtly condemned by every official source of God’s desires. To this God, my brother could say, honestly, “I’ve been patient, I’ve been tolerant, I’ve been supportive and I’ve been generous without thought of reward.” And, by all official accounts, this God would say, “but you’re a little faggot!” and nothing – nothing – else would ever matter. When I died I would be judged on if I would defend my brother’s lifestyle or not. There’s an old story, much beloved by Christians, of a man walking along with his dog, his faithful friend of many years. The man and his dog come to a brilliant gate of pearl with a golden road leading beyond. A shining winged figure tells the man that this is Heaven. But when the man starts to enter, he is told that no pets are allowed, that his friend must be left behind. The man, declining, turns away and continues down a different path. Later, he comes to a simple green pasture with a humble old hayseed farmer who invites the man in for a drink. The dog, too, is welcomed and refreshed. When the man asks the farmer where he is, he is told that this is Heaven. The pearl-gated place back down the road is Hell and it serves the useful purpose of screening out those unpleasant people who would willingly abandon their friends. Nice story. But, according to the official word of God, I am only moral if I abandon my gay friend because Heaven doesn’t want him. Powerless and doomed to punishment or not, I sincerely hope I always reject this.

In addition to that, I would also say that we, not only, shouldn’t take our sense of what is acceptable/unacceptable from God but that we – for the not hateful or braindead of our population – already don’t. Example: There is possibly someone reading this who believes in God but also doesn’t believe that homosexuality is unacceptable at all or an abomination against anything. To take this position on official religious scripture, you need to pick through the verses and support the ones you feel are inclusive and compassionate while rejecting the ones that you interpret as violent, irresponsible or out-dated (this even happens with things Jesus said). Doing this requires you to have your own independent standard for deciding what you will find acceptable, whether you’re religious or not. A standard that obviously isn’t coming from the scripture itself. Neither religious scripture nor churches are necessary for this. None of us need Big Brother above to tell us what to do; therefore, we have no need to care what He wants.

Blaise Pascal, French mathematician (among other things) from the 1600’s, made a probability/thought experiment referred to as “Pascal’s Wager” about the gamble of God’s existence. To summarise its essentials: Given the lack of proof on either side, reason alone cannot help you decide whether God exists or not. In this case, you need to make your decision by coming from another angle – as a wager. If you believe in God and he doesn’t exist then you neither gain nor lose anything. You, similarly, break even if you don’t believe and are correct that God doesn’t exist. If you don’t believe in God and He does exist then you lose everything. If you believe in God and he does exist then you have everything to gain. The answer, then, is to be faithful to God as it’s the safest or the winning choice, in either case. It’s been said by others, and I’ll agree, that referring to it as a “wager” is fairly appropriate, given its carnival “pick-a-card” sideshow-like way of approaching affairs. It’s a, sadly, accurate way of describing the paradise versus punishment gamble that God’s universe would be though. But let’s look at this another way.

Every day someone willingly undergoes a dangerous operation in order to donate an organ to a fellow human being. Every day someone refuses to give the names of their friends in order to save those people from the torture they are currently screaming under. Every day someone willingly puts themselves between violence and their children. We honour people like this and their bravery all the time. To describe these things done as a regular “duty” to God, or as things done for divine reward or done out of fear to avoid divine punishment, is to strip these peoples’ actions of all integrity. It also makes a joke of choices, accomplishments and tragedies. Who cares if innocent people were savagely raped in a prison for ten years? They’ll have a better time in eternity when they die! In every way the presence of God would affect the universe, there’s no way that I can look at it with affection or satisfaction.

While I’m not content to die just yet, I would also hate to live forever. And, given the colours, sounds, textures, literature, songs, technology, geography, questions, answers and people all around me, I will never understand those who are disappointed with the idea of there being ‘only this’ world or life. What else do you want? I’ll end now (as many things should) on a Richard Dawkins quote and the hope that, perhaps, eventually, more people learn to think like this: “We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of the Sahara. Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively outnumbers the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here. We privileged few, who won the lottery of birth against all odds, how dare we whine at our inevitable return to that prior state from which the vast majority have never stirred?”

A Comeback And Murderous Quests For The Self

I haven't posted here in about five months. I wanted to do more when I started this thing but life isn't a convenient force of nature. A couple of months ago my best friend of more than ten years was killed in a car accident - an event that took up a lot of my time for a while. I may write on it more extensively at another point but I'm just not in the headspace for that kind of personal/linguistic adventure right now. I'm mostly just here to get this place started back up again.

In what's possibly the most inappropriate segueway ever used, I was reading an article at io9.com earlier today about fictional pop culture characters who are on a self-imposed search for their humanity; only to decide it can only be found by murdering people in cold blood. It's an interesting phenomenon that, I'll admit, I doubt I'd ever thought about in any serious, conscious way but I instantly felt amazed by how frequently the archetype is used for characters in (allegedly) heroic struggles. I won't copy the whole thing but here's a small chunk about the recent Wolverine backstory flick ... Which, indidentally, was a film that was an insult to comics, cinema and multi brain-celled humans:

Recently, I was re-watching chunks of X-Men: Origins: Wolverine and thinking about that movie's insane body-count — both before and after Logan starts trying to regain his elusive humanity. In Wolverine, the mutant known as Logan is caught between his bestial nature and his dignity as an individual. For a hundred-odd years, he is a slaughter machine for the military, and then he joins a super-secret mutant taskforce. But in mid-atrocity, he suddenly starts questioning orders, and then he goes… rogue. (No, he doesn't bleach part of his hair and start talking in a Southern-girl voice. He just wanders off the reservation.)

The point is, Wolverine is just as much of a killing machine after he starts asserting that he's not just part of the machine, or not just an animal. He never makes the connection between the sacredness of his own personhood, and the sacredness of human life in general. I get that you have to fight for your freedom sometimes, but the movie makes a big point of showing Wolverine killing when he could just as easily disable his opponents — one of the movie's few great fuck-yeah moments involves cold-blooded murder. (Sure, he's killing scumbags. But he was just as much of a scumbag twenty minutes earlier.)

It's not a long article, so anyone interested should really give it a read. The rest of it can be found just here.