Daniel Dennett and the Sacred Bull

[Iason Ouabache]

I still haven't completely finished Dennett's "Breaking the Spell" but I'm getting really close.  I thought that the chapter entitled "Is religion what gives meaning to your life?" (p. 286) was very interesting and somewhat matched up to Enrico's Sacred Bull story:

According to surveys, most of the people in the world say that religion is very important in their lives. (See, e.g., the Web site of the Pew Research Center, http://people-press.org/.) Many of these people would say that without their religion their lives would be meaningless. It's tempting just to take them at their word, to declare that in that case there is really nothing more to be said—and tiptoe away. Who would want to interfere with whatever it is that gives their lives meaning? But if we do that, we willfully ignore some serious questions. Can just any religion give lives their meaning, in a way that we should honor and respect? What about people who fall into the clutches of cult leaders, or who are duped into giving their life savings to religious con artists? Do their lives still have meaning even though their particular "religion" is a fraud?

In Marjoe, the 1972 documentary about the bogus evangelist Marjoe Gortner mentioned in chapter 6, we see poor people emptying their wallets and purses into the collection plate, their eyes glistening with tears of joy, thrilled to be getting "salvation" from this charismatic phony. The question that has been troubling me ever since I saw the film when it first came out is: who is committing the more reprehensible act—Marjoe Gortner, who lies to these people in order to get their money, or the filmmakers who expose these lies (with Gortner's enthusiastic complicity), thereby robbing these good folk of the meaning they thought they had found for their lives? Were they not getting their money's worth and then some before the filmmakers came along? Consider their lives (I am imagining these details, which are not in the documentary): Sam is a high-school dropout, pumping gas at the station at the crossroads and hoping someday to buy a motorcycle; he is a Dallas Cowboys fan, and likes to have a few beers while watching the games on TV. Lucille, who never married, is in charge of the night-shift shelfstockers at the local supermarket and lives in the modest house she has always lived in, caring for her aged mother; they follow the soap operas together. No adventurous opportunities beckon in the futures of Sam or Lucille, or most of the others in the blissful congregation, but they have now been put in direct contact with Jesus and are now saved for eternity, beloved members in good standing of the community of the born-again. They have turned over a new leaf, in a most dramatic ceremony, and they face their otherwise uninspiring lives refreshed and uplifted. Their lives now tell a story, and it's a chapter of the Greatest Story Ever Told. Can you imagine anything else they could buy with those twenty-dollar bills they deposit in the collection plate that would be remotely as valuable to them?

Certainly, comes the reply. They could donate their money to a religion that was honest, and that actually used their sacrifices to help others who were still needier. Or they could join any secular organization that put their free time, energy, and money to effective use in ameliorating some of the world's ills. Perhaps the main reason that religions do most of the heavy lifting in large parts of America is that people really do want to help others—and secular organizations have failed to compete with religions for the allegiance of ordinary people. That's important, but it's the easy part of the answer, leaving untouched the hard part: what should we do about those we honestly think are being conned? Should we leave them to their comforting illusions or blow the whistle? I have eventually come to the tentative conclusion that Marjoe Gortner and his filmmaking collaborators performed a great public service in spite of the pain and humiliation the film no doubt caused to many basically innocent people, but further details, or just further reflection on the details that are known, might lead me to change my mind.

It's a tough dilemma here.  We are taught to search for the "Truth" but most people are perfectly happy with their batch of Happy Lies.  It would be immoral to help perpetuate the Lies (either directly by confrontation or indirectly by remaining silent); but it would also be immoral to "break the spell" and tell them that Santa doesn't really exist. Not an easy decision either way.

[Bebek Sincap Ratatosk]

I still haven't completely finished Dennett's "Breaking the Spell" but I'm getting really close.  I thought that the chapter entitled "Is religion what gives meaning to your life?" (p. 286) was very interesting and somewhat matched up to Enrico's Sacred Bull story:

According to surveys, most of the people in the world say that religion is very important in their lives. (See, e.g., the Web site of the Pew Research Center, http://people-press.org/.) Many of these people would say that without their religion their lives would be meaningless. It's tempting just to take them at their word, to declare that in that case there is really nothing more to be said—and tiptoe away. Who would want to interfere with whatever it is that gives their lives meaning? But if we do that, we willfully ignore some serious questions. Can just any religion give lives their meaning, in a way that we should honor and respect? What about people who fall into the clutches of cult leaders, or who are duped into giving their life savings to religious con artists? Do their lives still have meaning even though their particular "religion" is a fraud?

In Marjoe, the 1972 documentary about the bogus evangelist Marjoe Gortner mentioned in chapter 6, we see poor people emptying their wallets and purses into the collection plate, their eyes glistening with tears of joy, thrilled to be getting "salvation" from this charismatic phony. The question that has been troubling me ever since I saw the film when it first came out is: who is committing the more reprehensible act—Marjoe Gortner, who lies to these people in order to get their money, or the filmmakers who expose these lies (with Gortner's enthusiastic complicity), thereby robbing these good folk of the meaning they thought they had found for their lives? Were they not getting their money's worth and then some before the filmmakers came along? Consider their lives (I am imagining these details, which are not in the documentary): Sam is a high-school dropout, pumping gas at the station at the crossroads and hoping someday to buy a motorcycle; he is a Dallas Cowboys fan, and likes to have a few beers while watching the games on TV. Lucille, who never married, is in charge of the night-shift shelfstockers at the local supermarket and lives in the modest house she has always lived in, caring for her aged mother; they follow the soap operas together. No adventurous opportunities beckon in the futures of Sam or Lucille, or most of the others in the blissful congregation, but they have now been put in direct contact with Jesus and are now saved for eternity, beloved members in good standing of the community of the born-again. They have turned over a new leaf, in a most dramatic ceremony, and they face their otherwise uninspiring lives refreshed and uplifted. Their lives now tell a story, and it's a chapter of the Greatest Story Ever Told. Can you imagine anything else they could buy with those twenty-dollar bills they deposit in the collection plate that would be remotely as valuable to them?

Certainly, comes the reply. They could donate their money to a religion that was honest, and that actually used their sacrifices to help others who were still needier. Or they could join any secular organization that put their free time, energy, and money to effective use in ameliorating some of the world's ills. Perhaps the main reason that religions do most of the heavy lifting in large parts of America is that people really do want to help others—and secular organizations have failed to compete with religions for the allegiance of ordinary people. That's important, but it's the easy part of the answer, leaving untouched the hard part: what should we do about those we honestly think are being conned? Should we leave them to their comforting illusions or blow the whistle? I have eventually come to the tentative conclusion that Marjoe Gortner and his filmmaking collaborators performed a great public service in spite of the pain and humiliation the film no doubt caused to many basically innocent people, but further details, or just further reflection on the details that are known, might lead me to change my mind.

It's a tough dilemma here.  We are taught to search for the "Truth" but most people are perfectly happy with their batch of Happy Lies.  It would be immoral to help perpetuate the Lies (either directly by confrontation or indirectly by remaining silent); but it would also be immoral to "break the spell" and tell them that Santa doesn't really exist. Not an easy decision either way.

When I was growing up as a JW, I had to deal with this all the time. Other kids believed in Santa, but I knew, even in Kindergarten that it was a lie. I remember telling one of my friends that it was a lie and that there was no Santa (maybe that was first grade). He cried and the teacher lied to him and so he continued to believe. Then, one year, I think 4th grade, he came back from Winter break and told me he saw his parents putting gifts under the tree. He was very hurt, because he had been lied to. So he got hurt twice. Once when I stupidly thought he should know the truth and once when he discovered the lie.

My Grandma hated the fact that my parents converted to JW's and hated the idea that her grandchildren wouldn't be a part of Christmas. So she and my Dad had a conversation where he told her that Jesus wasn't born on Dec 25 and that it was a pagan holiday in disguise. Grandma said that it was in the Bible. Dad said it wasn't in the Bible. Grandma declared that if it wasn't in the Bible, she would convert to JW's as well. So she asked her preacher at church. The man laughed, when she asked about a biblical passage to prove Jesus was born on the 25th of December. He told her it was not when Jesus was born. Grandma was very upset, until one of her friends said "We don't celebrate Christmas because that's when Jesus was born, we celebrate because he is our Savior." Obviously, that line is just silly, but it was enough for Grandma. For the subsequent 25 years or so of her life, she still loved Christmas and spoke of it exactly as she did before the revelation.

Many people seem to believe what they want to believe and if they want to believe, then no amount of telling them otherwise will change it.

I don't know that either position is immoral... maybe inhospitable or rude... or complicit. But what moral code says that we should expose happy lies, or that we should support/condone any sort of lie, happy or not? It seems more like a social choice... do you want to support the current social status quo, or do you want to upset the current social status quo?

[Roo]

There is a time for holding one's tongue and a time to expose the truth. If it's akin to revealing the truth about Santa, you do more damage perpetuating the lie. But in terms of beliefs that can't be proved, beliefs that form identity and morals...it's often best to leave the individual to their delusion.

At times, though, denying reality through maintaining particular beliefs is harmful to everyone, and it becomes necessary to speak the Truth. Knowing when and how is the kicker. In confronting the more painful Truths of my own life, I've come to understand that sometimes we aren't ready to face the Truth. Sometimes it doesn't fit into the rest of our reality tunnel, and we'll dismiss it out of hand, because to alter one piece is to alter them all, and we are not always internally stable enough to handle such a change.

Many of those who've "lost" their religion find themselves drifting for a while. Religion holds a powerful place in our sense of who we are and what our lives mean. It is frequently the final authority on matters of behavior and boundaries. Taking that away can remove the various supports and structures that keep us steady through the storms and upheavals of life. Most people are absolutely miserable with a pack of Happy Lies, but they've never known anything else, and those Lies are so tied up with who they are and who their family and friends are, that it takes a tremendous amount of courage to be willing to see the Truth.

The idea that religion gives life meaning gets the hairy eyeball from me. More often than not, it's not the religion itself that endows meaning, but the community and sense of belonging. It's the feeling of doing something by believing. It's the faith incorporated into the religion, the belief by-products. If believing in Jesus is enough to entitle me to everlasting life, then it's easy enough to believe, and feel good about that belief, so that life somehow gains more meaning.

For me, that means rarely, if ever, attempting to discuss religion with the intention of changing the other person's mind. I'll happily discuss beliefs and religious concepts. I'll share my own personal beliefs if the other party is interested. But I'll leave them to their Happy Lies, as far as their religion. I don't have one, and have no interest in gaining one. But I hang around here, because this particular joke religion has something to offer me at the moment. A different perspective, and a few kernels of Truth scattered about.

[Requia ☣]

Is this Dennet the guy who spent an entire book trying to define single concept, or a different Dennet?

[Iason Ouabache]

Is this Dennet the guy who spent an entire book trying to define single concept, or a different Dennet?

I'm... not sure what you are talking about.  He's written a couple of books on consciousness and evolution though.

[Cain]

Heh I have this book in pdf.  I should probably read it, one day.  I generally like Dennett, he's both more philosophical and less serious than many other atheist writers.

[Requia ☣]

Is this Dennet the guy who spent an entire book trying to define single concept, or a different Dennet?

I'm... not sure what you are talking about.  He's written a couple of books on consciousness and evolution though.

Same guy then.

[Iason Ouabache]

Heh I have this book in pdf.  I should probably read it, one day.  I generally like Dennett, he's both more philosophical and less serious than many other atheist writers.

I've seriously enjoyed the book. One of the best I've ever read, but I'm weird like that. He's done a good job of explaining why people believe what they believe in and how religion has "evolved" over mankind's history. Plus I really dig his style.  I seem to learn things better if the author writes from a historical perspective. I may still do a book review of this when I'm done.  Depends on how lazy I'm feeling.

I was going to link to the PDF on Scribd in case anyone wanted to read it, but it looks like they've all been taken down.  Oh well, Cain and I both have the PDFs and we are willing to share.