Characters who lack belief are common in SF, yet - unusually for television - they are usually presented in a very positive light. Let's consider a few popular shows.
Star Trek
The characters in the various series are almost universally humanist, and the Federation is almost relentlessly humanist. Star Trek is famous for the sense of hope it conveys about the future, and I think that's largely connected to the humanist sentiment that runs through the entire franchise. In the original series the only main character with any apparent religious sensibilities is McCoy, who does refer to God, and does seem to have a religious background and appears to maintain some level of faith (though he does not appear to be observant of religion). The only main character with any real involvement in even quasi-religious ceremony is Spock, but that ceremony is disconnected from supernatural beliefs. In TNG, the main characters are if anything, more humanist. Worf, while raised by humans, appears to have had enough steeping in Klingon culture to have some degree of acceptance of Klingon religion (he does make reference to Sto'Vo'Kor, for example) and practices some Klingon rituals. None of the humans is particularly religious. Deep Space Nine presents a strongly faith-based culture (the Bajorans), but it is made clear in the show that the beings they base their religion on are not supernatural, simply very powerful aliens.
Firefly
The captain of the Firefly, Mal Reynolds, repeatedly discusses his lack of belief, and is consequently presented as an atheist. One of the other main characters, Book, is a "Shepherd", a kind of priest, but we almost immediately discover very strong indications that he is much more than a simple priest. In one 'episode' (in both senses) River fixes Book's bible, by removing or changing all the parts that make no sense - the book ends up in tatters. The main "spiritual" character is Inara, her religious sensibilities are more Eastern, and several times she is seen to minister to Book; to my recollection, one episode ends with what can only be described as a kind of benediction - Book kneels before her in misery while she places her hand on his head in a metaphorical blessing. Religion may be somewhat important in the wider culture (it features in several episodes, but is as frequently a source of hatred and manipulation as much as comfort), but it is not important in the lives of most of the most of the crew. A sense that people will be good or evil with or without religion clearly comes through. Firefly is somewhat more independent and libertarian in sentiment than the other shows, but many of its characters have a strong humanist bent.
Battlestar Galactica
This show is unusual in that it's an overtly religious society, though many characters are not particularly religious (and a few are openly doubtful). Doubters are not regarded as "evil". Religious and nonreligious characters generally seem broadly accepting of each other. The main religion of the humans is polytheistic, that of the Cylons is monotheistic. Several humans become much more religious over time, but one is of dubious sanity (starting out sane and atheist and becoming apparently insane and somehwat religious); in each case the increase in belief is associated with apparent evidence consistent with that belief (even though some of the resulting beliefs are contradictory).
Stargate
Stargate is another overtly "humanist" program, but it is much more explicit in its treatment of religion. There are three main "enemies" in the series - the Goa'uld, the Replicators and the Ori. The first and last are gods to their followers - false gods, but gods with great powers nonetheless, so it is little surprise that they have great followings. The heroes aim to convince their followers that those they worship are not gods, and ultimately to defeat the false gods. None of the main characters are religious (though Te'alc is initially a believer, he throws off his religion). The Ori in particular, mirror the worst aspects of fundamentalist, dominionist religiosity.
Dr Who
The Doctor himself is an avowed lover of humanity, and the show is unremittingly humanist. Religious themes do come into the show sometimes, but the explanation is generally more on the natural side than the supernatural.
All of these programs deal in some way with "constructed families"; Firefly is probably the most explicit of these, but in each of them, "family" is something you make, not somethng you are. 'Traditional' families are not a major aspect of any of the shows (on DS9, Chief O'Brien has a 'traditional' family ... and marriage problems); one parent families are common. Yet love and loyalty to friends and colleagues run very strongly in all of the programs. All four show quite clearly that morality and religious belief are largely orthogonal. Stargate is perhaps the strongest in its anti-faith message (it takes no clear position that all religions are false - but all the religions that have a substantive place on the show clearly are false, dangerous and evil). People who lack overt belief are common, and almost all of them are moral, heroic, loyal, loving... and most of all, human.
Science Fiction, and in particular, TV science fiction - because of it reaching a large and regular audience, has a small but significant influence on our society. Because it is forward looking, the influence is generally strongly progressive, and in the way it presents its major characters, generally presents atheism in an extremely positive way, far out of keeping with the common depiction of atheists in other programmes (who are often presented as cold, abrasive, misanthropic or amoral, when they're presented at all).
--
Book: What are we up to, sweetheart?
River: Fixing your Bible.
Book: I, um... What?
[River is working on a mangled bible. Passages have been crossed out or corrected. Loose pages lie about.]
River: Bible's broken. Contradictions, false logistics... doesn't make sense.
Book: No, no. You - you can't...
River: So we'll integrate non-progressional evolution theory with God's creation of Eden. Eleven inherent metaphoric parallels already there. Eleven. Important number. Prime number. One goes into the house of eleven eleven times, but always comes out one. [She looks him in the eye.] Noah's ark is a problem.
Book: Really?
River: We'll have to call it "early quantum state phenomenon". Only way to fit [laughing quietly] 5,000 species of mammals on the same boat... [She rips more pages out.]
Book: River, you don't... fix the Bible.
River: [Speaking gently.] It's broken. It doesn't make sense.
Book: It's not about... making sense. It's about believing in something. And letting that belief be real enough to change your life. It's about faith. You don't fix faith, River. It fixes you.
(Book tries to pull some of the ripped out pages from River's hand, but they tear.)
Book: You hang on to those then.
Firefly: Jaynestown
Showing posts with label humanism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humanism. Show all posts
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Am I A Positive Atheist?
I wrote a longer version of this post, but it has been eaten by a grue. This one is different.
I was about to start writing the first version of this when I noticed that Dana asks "What kind of atheist are you?". An interesting coincidence, because in some way this post is related.
I must admit a certain amount of confusion with the term "positive atheism". I don't see atheism as inherently positive or negative. (I see the step of throwing off irrational faith in favour of reality as a positive one, but that's a benefit of becoming an atheist, not of being one in the sense that it's not an active process.)
Being an atheist, living as an atheist, is neither positive nor negative. You can live a positive life, or a negative one, or anything in between, and be an atheist. Atheism is orthogonal to positivity.
This might seem incongruous, given I just had a post in the 21st Humanist Symposium. Humanism is the sort of philosphy people tend to associate with "positive atheism" and the Humanist Symposium's brief is definitely about living positively, but humanism and atheism are quite different - many atheists are humanists, and many others are not. Many humanists are also not atheists. But, nevertheless, many atheists are attracted to humanism. I agree with many of its tenets, but I don't see humanism as connected to atheism, so to me it's not really "positive atheism", it's just humanism, and neither is necessary to the other. Similarly, my post was about using probability to figure out that some apparently worrisome things may be nothing to worry about, and that an understanding of probability could help lift burdens of worry from our lives. But again, it's not atheism that's doing that. Atheism's job came earlier, in removing the attempt to explain such events as the acts of an incomrehensible and all-powerful god (the positive step of becoming an atheist). With that non-answer out of the way, there is room for the rational explanations of probability to make their positive contribution. So it is with humanism and other positive worldviews that many atheists have.
I'm generally a very positive and content person. I happen to be positive, and I happen to be an atheist.
But the phrase "positive atheism" (and for that matter, all the negative epithets theists throw at atheism) just doesn't have any more resonance for me than "yellow music" does.
I was about to start writing the first version of this when I noticed that Dana asks "What kind of atheist are you?". An interesting coincidence, because in some way this post is related.
I must admit a certain amount of confusion with the term "positive atheism". I don't see atheism as inherently positive or negative. (I see the step of throwing off irrational faith in favour of reality as a positive one, but that's a benefit of becoming an atheist, not of being one in the sense that it's not an active process.)
Being an atheist, living as an atheist, is neither positive nor negative. You can live a positive life, or a negative one, or anything in between, and be an atheist. Atheism is orthogonal to positivity.
This might seem incongruous, given I just had a post in the 21st Humanist Symposium. Humanism is the sort of philosphy people tend to associate with "positive atheism" and the Humanist Symposium's brief is definitely about living positively, but humanism and atheism are quite different - many atheists are humanists, and many others are not. Many humanists are also not atheists. But, nevertheless, many atheists are attracted to humanism. I agree with many of its tenets, but I don't see humanism as connected to atheism, so to me it's not really "positive atheism", it's just humanism, and neither is necessary to the other. Similarly, my post was about using probability to figure out that some apparently worrisome things may be nothing to worry about, and that an understanding of probability could help lift burdens of worry from our lives. But again, it's not atheism that's doing that. Atheism's job came earlier, in removing the attempt to explain such events as the acts of an incomrehensible and all-powerful god (the positive step of becoming an atheist). With that non-answer out of the way, there is room for the rational explanations of probability to make their positive contribution. So it is with humanism and other positive worldviews that many atheists have.
I'm generally a very positive and content person. I happen to be positive, and I happen to be an atheist.
But the phrase "positive atheism" (and for that matter, all the negative epithets theists throw at atheism) just doesn't have any more resonance for me than "yellow music" does.
Monday, June 9, 2008
The Consolations of Probability
There's little doubt that many people find comfort in the presence of an all-powerful, all-knowing being watching over them, in knowing that everything happens for a reason, even if they don't know what those reasons might be. People who don't believe in such things cannot have such consolation. After all, what consolation is there if things just happen?
I'm not just talking about the fact that there's a lot of random stuff that happens that we aren't responsible for, or that we're incredibly lucky to be here. Those pieces of understanding are major consolations, no doubt (or at least they are to me). Greta Christina has touched on these, and similar issues several times, and written about them better than I could.
Probability and statistics, or at least an understanding of them, are incredibly useful things to have. I make a living out of them, so they're obviously useful in that sense, but I am talking here about ordinary everyday getting-through-life stuff.
For example, they're essential tools when responding to the news, because they help you identify the difference between a real issue and a likely manufacturoversy.
The tale of the traffic blackspot
Some time ago I saw a headline about how a particular busy intersection had become a pedestrian "black-spot" because there had been a "50 percent increase" in pedestrian deaths and serious injuries last year; it was suggested that it may have been caused by increased traffic from changes several intersections back along the same road. The relevant state minister was grilled about his "lack of action" and induced to promise some very expensive changes at the intersection.
My initial, emotional response was the one the journalist was doubtless trying to induce - horror at an apparently huge increase in deaths and injuries. But that nice round "50 percent" figure worried me. Was that number so rounded off from say 48 or 52 percent, or was it exactly 50, suggesting the numbers were very small? So I looked through the story for the figures. The number of deaths and serious inuries had gone from 8 the previous year to 12 in the last year. A quick calculation in my head showed that, even if the underlying probability of incidents had not changed, such a change in actual numbers could easily have happened. The fuss over the change from 8 to 12 may well be a big fuss over nothing but randomness. It could well be that the figure of 8 was itself too high - maybe something should have been done years ago - but the controversy highlighted by the article was misplaced; there was no particular reason to believe anything had changed. The journalist had managed to induce the minister to reallocate funds that may well have been much better left where they had been before.
[Since the details of the mathematics is not the point of this post, I haven't included them - in another post at a later time, I may explore a little of the specific calculations in these (real) examples. ]
If you're watching for it, this kind of thing comes up a lot. H.G. Wells once wrote "Statistical thinking will one day be as necessary for efficient citizenship as the ability to read and write". Is he overselling the case? When government policy is increasingly driven by media attention to unimportant detail rather than substantive policy, I do think it's become increasingly important. We need to be able to understand the flood of information, and if necessary, debunk the nonsense it contains. Can the broader awareness suggested by Wells' comment come to pass?
It seems that educators are responding.
In the part of the world where I live, statistics and probability are now taught throughout school (K-12). My six-year-old has already learned to record data and produce simple graphs of it on the computer. My nine-year-old has learned some basic probability. By the end of year 12, they will have a pretty solid grounding in the basic ideas. They might not end up with all the tools to do the calculations I used, but they will at least be able to ask the right questions.
While important, this sort of understanding of what's going on in the world - certainly a form of comfort - is perhaps a relatively abstract one. However, the comforts can also be much more personal.
The tale of the overtested driver
Some years ago, a fellow was asking a group of statistically-minded people (of which I was one) whether he was being victimized at work. His employer, who owned a business that had many employees driving trucks, had instituted random drug testing. Every week a small number of employees were selected and tested.
This particular driver felt he was being targetted, because he had been tested seven times in 18 months, while he knew of several others who had not been tested at all. He was worried that someone must have it in for him; he thought that maybe another employee he'd had a falling out with may have said that he was taking drugs in order to make trouble for him. He was wondering if he should confront that person.
I pointed out that for it to be an effective deterrent, drug testing had to be done at random - you can't test someone once and then not again until everyone else had been done, because if someone were inclined to take drugs while driving trucks, once they'd been tested, they'd know they were "safe" for a while. There always had to be a risk you would be tested next month. Random testing in turn meant that there would always be some people tested substantially more than others. Since he was asking, rather than someone else, it was likely that he was one of the most heavily tested people in that company, probably the most heavily tested - but someone had to be the most tested person.
The question was - if testing really was being done randomly, would seven tests in 18 months be an unusually high number for the most-tested person? Of course, you need to look at the number of people in the company and the number being tested each week. You'd also want to ask whether you'd really expect to find some people still untested at the same time.
It turned out that after 18 months, it was reasonably likely someone at the company was going to be tested seven times (around a 20% chance - a higher chance than picking up a die and rolling a six), and at the same time there would be a fair number of still-untested people (enough so that he'd likely know several). So there was no particular reason to think he was being targetted. No reason, based on the numbers so far, to expect the person he was worried about was making trouble for him.
Such knowledge was indeed, a consolation. Sure, the drug testing was a nuisance, but there wasn't any reason to think it was personal, or that anybody had it in for him. A significant source of stress in his life was lifted.
And understanding not just that things can happen at random, but of the specific consequences of how randomness works can show us that nobody may be to blame. It can show us that we are not a victim.
Probability can be a consolation, sometimes quite a personal one.
I'm not just talking about the fact that there's a lot of random stuff that happens that we aren't responsible for, or that we're incredibly lucky to be here. Those pieces of understanding are major consolations, no doubt (or at least they are to me). Greta Christina has touched on these, and similar issues several times, and written about them better than I could.
Probability and statistics, or at least an understanding of them, are incredibly useful things to have. I make a living out of them, so they're obviously useful in that sense, but I am talking here about ordinary everyday getting-through-life stuff.
For example, they're essential tools when responding to the news, because they help you identify the difference between a real issue and a likely manufacturoversy.
The tale of the traffic blackspot
Some time ago I saw a headline about how a particular busy intersection had become a pedestrian "black-spot" because there had been a "50 percent increase" in pedestrian deaths and serious injuries last year; it was suggested that it may have been caused by increased traffic from changes several intersections back along the same road. The relevant state minister was grilled about his "lack of action" and induced to promise some very expensive changes at the intersection.
My initial, emotional response was the one the journalist was doubtless trying to induce - horror at an apparently huge increase in deaths and injuries. But that nice round "50 percent" figure worried me. Was that number so rounded off from say 48 or 52 percent, or was it exactly 50, suggesting the numbers were very small? So I looked through the story for the figures. The number of deaths and serious inuries had gone from 8 the previous year to 12 in the last year. A quick calculation in my head showed that, even if the underlying probability of incidents had not changed, such a change in actual numbers could easily have happened. The fuss over the change from 8 to 12 may well be a big fuss over nothing but randomness. It could well be that the figure of 8 was itself too high - maybe something should have been done years ago - but the controversy highlighted by the article was misplaced; there was no particular reason to believe anything had changed. The journalist had managed to induce the minister to reallocate funds that may well have been much better left where they had been before.
[Since the details of the mathematics is not the point of this post, I haven't included them - in another post at a later time, I may explore a little of the specific calculations in these (real) examples. ]
If you're watching for it, this kind of thing comes up a lot. H.G. Wells once wrote "Statistical thinking will one day be as necessary for efficient citizenship as the ability to read and write". Is he overselling the case? When government policy is increasingly driven by media attention to unimportant detail rather than substantive policy, I do think it's become increasingly important. We need to be able to understand the flood of information, and if necessary, debunk the nonsense it contains. Can the broader awareness suggested by Wells' comment come to pass?
It seems that educators are responding.
In the part of the world where I live, statistics and probability are now taught throughout school (K-12). My six-year-old has already learned to record data and produce simple graphs of it on the computer. My nine-year-old has learned some basic probability. By the end of year 12, they will have a pretty solid grounding in the basic ideas. They might not end up with all the tools to do the calculations I used, but they will at least be able to ask the right questions.
While important, this sort of understanding of what's going on in the world - certainly a form of comfort - is perhaps a relatively abstract one. However, the comforts can also be much more personal.
The tale of the overtested driver
Some years ago, a fellow was asking a group of statistically-minded people (of which I was one) whether he was being victimized at work. His employer, who owned a business that had many employees driving trucks, had instituted random drug testing. Every week a small number of employees were selected and tested.
This particular driver felt he was being targetted, because he had been tested seven times in 18 months, while he knew of several others who had not been tested at all. He was worried that someone must have it in for him; he thought that maybe another employee he'd had a falling out with may have said that he was taking drugs in order to make trouble for him. He was wondering if he should confront that person.
I pointed out that for it to be an effective deterrent, drug testing had to be done at random - you can't test someone once and then not again until everyone else had been done, because if someone were inclined to take drugs while driving trucks, once they'd been tested, they'd know they were "safe" for a while. There always had to be a risk you would be tested next month. Random testing in turn meant that there would always be some people tested substantially more than others. Since he was asking, rather than someone else, it was likely that he was one of the most heavily tested people in that company, probably the most heavily tested - but someone had to be the most tested person.
The question was - if testing really was being done randomly, would seven tests in 18 months be an unusually high number for the most-tested person? Of course, you need to look at the number of people in the company and the number being tested each week. You'd also want to ask whether you'd really expect to find some people still untested at the same time.
It turned out that after 18 months, it was reasonably likely someone at the company was going to be tested seven times (around a 20% chance - a higher chance than picking up a die and rolling a six), and at the same time there would be a fair number of still-untested people (enough so that he'd likely know several). So there was no particular reason to think he was being targetted. No reason, based on the numbers so far, to expect the person he was worried about was making trouble for him.
Such knowledge was indeed, a consolation. Sure, the drug testing was a nuisance, but there wasn't any reason to think it was personal, or that anybody had it in for him. A significant source of stress in his life was lifted.
And understanding not just that things can happen at random, but of the specific consequences of how randomness works can show us that nobody may be to blame. It can show us that we are not a victim.
Probability can be a consolation, sometimes quite a personal one.
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