Lust, Morality and Politics

[This post may seem off-topic, but I'm going to use it to tie into future posts.]

I’m going to borrow the term “lust” and use it in a morally neutral sense, meaning hardwired human desire. Basically, we humans are endowed with lusts that help us survive, both as individuals and as groups. Obvious examples are sex drive and hunger. Lusts are simply the raw energy of humanity. If unchecked, they can cause destruction and pain, but without them we’d die off as a species. There are other kinds of lusts.

Moral lust is a desire to seek the benefit of those around us. It’s a survival tool because it fosters peaceful, self-reinforcing communities. Shooting arrows at your neighbor, just for the heck of it, results in arrows fired back at you, which state of affairs isn’t good for anyone’s survival. Helping your neighbor fix his house benefits his survival and yours, because when you find yourself in need of help he’ll probably return the favor.

This raises a question: to what extent are good deeds done in order to get return favors, versus for the joy of doing good deeds? To an extent, at least, moral lust makes good deeds enjoyable in and of themselves, hence the term lust.

Political lust is a desire to control others. It sounds sinister, and it often is, but it can also be mundane. If Jim wants neighbor Bob to stop slaughtering cows near his drinking well, that’s an example of political lust. The will to control others is a survival tool, because you can influence others to act in ways that benefit you, or at least don’t harm you.

Like moral lust, however, people don’t act on political lust only out of pragmatism. The drive for power, and the euphoria that comes from controlling other people’s lives, is intrinsic, hence the term lust.

Now here’s an important distinction: political lust is not politics, nor is moral lust morality. It might be better to say that the political and moral engines of society would run out of gas without their respective lusts.

Furthermore, politics and morality need to work in tandem to create successful societies. In many ways they counterbalance each other. Subtract the Protestant work ethic from western society, for example, and suddenly the society wouldn’t function as well, despite an unchanged political system. Subtract democracy, and chaos or worse would ensue, despite a Judeo-Christian morality.

Science without religion is lame, religion without science is blind.

That’s a quote from Albert Einstein. Here’s a thoughtful essay about Einstein and his religious views. From the essay:

“Although Einstein was not always consistent in what he said about God, there is a consistent theme running through his thoughts on religion—a theme that he called “cosmic religion”. He used this term to reflect the awe he felt when confronted with the universe and our ability to begin, at least, to comprehend it.”

Response to Thor’s Comment (Science & Theology)

Thor, I hope you don’t mind if I respond to your comment in a new post. I don’t want interesting threads to get buried in comments. Here’s what you wrote:

The word “theology” comes from two Greek words meaning “God” and “word.” Combined, the word “theology” means the “study of God.” Christian theology therefore is the study of what Christian believes the Bible teaches about God.

For the Christian, the basis of “knowledge about God” comes from “reading” the Bible. The Bible itself is a presupposition book (Genesis 1:1 – “In the beginning – GOD”), it assumes that a God that is transcendent time and space exists. It describes a God that spoke and where there “was nothing,” the universe, with all the stars, planets, comets, etc. leapt into existence. It goes on to tell a story of God’s relationship with mankind, fashioning the first people from the very soil of their home. It also describes God’s faithfulness toward and interaction with mankind on the very assumption He exists.

Science refers to any system of acquiring knowledge “based on the scientific method,” as well as to the organized body of knowledge gained through such research. The sciences to which this is referred (natural and social), are empirical, asserting that knowledge must be based on observable phenomena and capable of being tested for its validity by other researchers working under the same conditions.

The presupposition is therefore, since God is the author of all truth, having created the universe and everything therein, all truths, Biblical and extrabiblical, are consistent and cohere, and that the Bible speaks truth when it touches on matters pertaining to nature, history, or anything else.

Truths presupposed in the Bible must be consistent (not contradictory) with those in nature, and vice versa, though the former may be the more difficult to work out using the scientific method. If the God of the Bible created everything there is, we would expect no less (many of us Christians that is).

“everyone who is seriously involved in the pursuit of science becomes convinced that a spirit is manifest in the laws of the Universe-a spirit vastly superior to that of man, and one in the face of which we with our modest powers must feel humble. In this way the pursuit of science leads to a religious feeling of a special sort”. (Einstein – 24 January 1936)

You’re essentially saying (correct me if I’m wrong) that theology and science lay claim to the same set of truths, or perhaps that theology is a superset of science. I want to explore this in future posts, but I’ll comment a bit now, because this doesn’t seem to address instances where theology and science conflict, which by all accounts they do.

I’ll start at the concept of the supernatural. This idea seems intended to rope off certain areas of truth as off-limits to empirical study. Why can’t we see spirits? Are angels made of atoms? Not only do we not know, but the concept of “supernaturalness” makes such questions inherently unanswerable. If theology can say things about both the natural and the supernatural, but science can only say things about the natural, then theology must be a superset of science.

The problem is, science is a bit of a maverick. The scientific method wants to prevent theology and other belief systems from informing empirical study, otherwise discoveries are tainted. In other words, theology doesn’t inform science. Science will discover what’s really out there, not what politics or religion dictates. This is all well and good as long as science doesn’t ruffle theological feathers, but as soon as that happens everything goes haywire.

Typically, when scientific study reveals something that upsets long-held theological traditions, the church digs in its heels. At best, they intellectually marginalize themselves, at worst, the church uses political force to suppress the theories in question. History bears this out all the way up to the present day.

Maybe theology isn’t a superset of science after all? Maybe it’s a heuristic that exists while science evolves toward something more complete? Maybe the attrition of theological notions in the face of scientific advancement is actually part of God’s plan? I’m just thinking out loud here. Whatever the case, it seems extremely dangerous to just let theology trump science whenever they conflict.

A Dialogue Between Sam Harris and Andrew Sullivan

Sam Harris, atheist, and Andrew Sullivan, theist, duke it out in a series of back-and-forth blog essays. As of right now, the conversation is still happening. More salvos will surely be fired, so the page is worth keeping track of. As of 2/12/07, the ball appears to be on Andrew’s side of the court, with Sam having posted the latest essay.

The dialogue is not at all conclusive, with neither side being convinced by the other, but it is interesting and worth reading. These kinds of dialogues can be a gold mine. In many ways this reflects the controversies and struggles going on in my own mind.

[Note: This blog's purpose is not only to post my own writing, but to post things written by people people who are smarter and/or better at writing than I am. The internet may be big, but good material is hard to find, so linking to good stuff is worthwhile.]

Science and Theology

Both science and theology are misunderstood and stigmatized. Theologians, no doubt, are painfully aware of how theology is misunderstood, and will attempt to set the record straight whenever possible.

For example, suppose I made the assertion that theology was just a bunch of crusty doctrines that stuffy men like to pour over in rooms lined with old, dusty books, and that most theology has no relevance to the lives of ordinary people.

“No, no, no!” Would be the likely response, along with exasperated hair-pulling. I would then receive a lecture along the lines of, “Theology is in fact a vibrant and living thing. It’s wonderful and mysterious, and it has everything to do with the lives of ordinary people.”

People often make the same mistake about science. Science is a soulless, intellectual process executed by men in white lab coats—eyes hidden and calculating behind spectacles. Science is a useful tool, but lacks nourishment for the soul. Science contains neither wonder nor mystery. Ordinary people don’t need to concern themselves with science.

No, no, no! But rather than try to spell it out here, I’ll leave it to the reader to examine their own possibly-stigmatized notions about science. As a side note, the title of this blog attempts to convey some of my own attitude about science and a search for truth in general.

Observations on Faith

What is faith? What is the relationship between faith and reason? The skeptic’s definition is that faith is belief without reason. Faith means succumbing to the first belief system that comes along, and subsequently never understanding why you believe it. On the other hand, I’m not sure if I’ve ever heard a concise definition of faith from a believer.

Passages like Hebrews 11:1 don’t do much to clear things up either. “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” Perhaps it’s a badly-translated Greek linguical construct, but that sounds self-contradictory. Other passages add to the confusion: “not by works” versus “faith without works is dead.” No wonder the concept is so indefinite. If you make a concrete assertion, someone can (and usually will) contradict you with a Bible verse.

“Well,” theologians say, “faith is a difficult concept. You have to grow in your understanding of it.” Or possibly, “The mind of a skeptic is incapable of understanding faith.” Such evasions bother be. Valid concepts, to the extent they affect our actions in the real world, should be describable with concise language and clear examples. Why should the concept of faith be exempt?