A little (ok, not so little) book review

I’ve never written a book review at Amazon before, and I just finished reading Richard Dawkins’ The God Delusion recently (people get so mad about it, I just had to read it!). So I decided to post a review of it. Granted, there are already over 1600 reviews of the book, and thousands more comments on the reviews (thanks especially to one or three trolls with a habit of posting pseudo-logical gibberish in reply to nearly every review, and to many of the comments). But hey, why not, right? So, I thought I’d put a copy of my review here. Here ’tis. :)

(4/5 stars) Worth reading & examining for yourself (posted October 1, 2010)

A lot of people get fired up about this book, so I wanted to read it to try to see what the fuss is about. And from many of the reactions I’ve seen to Dawkins, I had the impression that he must be veritably livid himself – all but foaming at the mouth as he spits cruel, cruel attacks at his poor (religious) victims.

That really isn’t what I found in The God Delusion.

Of course, Dawkins doesn’t write with the cool detachment and (extreme) caution of a good philosopher; he’s a scientist, and he writes with a scientist’s frustration in the face of a too-common dearth of reasoned thought and scientific literacy in lay society. Yes, the frustration shows through, but I don’t see why anyone should fault him for that. People have committed gross atrocities in the name of “God” — that is rightly very frustrating. But the book is not written in the style of a polemic; it’s a reasoned argument, and it has the feel of such at almost every point. The humor is a nice break now and then, and he does get a bit quote-happy sometimes – but the quotes are interesting, so I enjoyed them as well.

One thing I noticed was that I had to keep reminding myself that Dawkins was using the word “God” in a specific way; early in the book he explains precisely what he means by “the God hypothesis” and thereby what he means by “God”. In a nutshell, that is a supernatural intelligent being that designed and created the universe and everything in it. This is a basic (many religious people would probably want to add to it) but common definition (this is kind of an essential – gets the essence of it – concept of God that many, even across religions, would agree is true of their God).

(Side-note: there is a philosophical/logical problem with the notion of a supernatural entity fiddling around with the physical universe, and that’s why I had to keep reminding myself that Dawkins was arguing against God as commonly conceived – otherwise I wouldn’t see why he’s cold as he is toward agnosticism.)

Of course, if you think “God” is some kind of pattern in nature (or is nature itself), then Dawkins’ arguments aren’t going to work against your “God” – but you’re also not talking about the God described in the scriptures of the major world religions, you’re not talking about a personal God who created the universe and listens to your prayers and gave commandments and rules etc. to prophets … in short, you’re not talking about the kind of God that most people talk about, or go to church to worship, or believe works miracles from time to time, or in whose name people have committed atrocities. That is the kind of God that Dawkins is arguing against.

And he does a fine job of it. Not a perfect job, but then I doubt I’d say that anyone has done a perfect job of arguing their point on any difficult and debated position. In the chapter on morality, it felt clear that he is not a moral philosopher – but that’s probably a good thing, as moral philosophers can’t even manage to agree on whether moral statements (like “it is wrong to kill”) mean anything at all. Dawkins OTOH is writing for people in the real world. ;)

His chapter arguing that religion is akin to child abuse sounded like it would be too extreme, but on reading it, a lot of what he had to say made a lot of sense. I grew up in an area with a lot of Amish, and Dawkins does strike pretty hard at them – but it seemed fair, and his condemnation of the rest of us for helping to forcefully perpetuate the culture seemed more so. I know the feeling of lament that we often have about old traditions dying out (particularly when they aren’t our own traditions); but I also have to wonder why we should lament the fading of outdated traditions more than we lament the limited life possibilities available to the actual people who are trapped unwittingly or even grudgingly in those traditions. Dawkins rightly calls us out on this.

…I still don’t understand why people get so angry about The God Delusion, though. It’s an argument, and the great thing about arguments is that if you disagree, you can try to dissect the argument and prove it wrong (or show why your own argument is stronger or more cogent). You can learn a lot from an argument whether you think it’s right or wrong – so why get mad?

“I may have drawn a picture of a cactus wearing a hat”

This is easily the most hilarious thing I’ve read in months.

(A parent banters with an unwitting “Christian Volunteer” at an Australian school over a permission slip for his kid to attend a religious play off grounds during school hours. The Yes box was “accidentally” pre-checked. The “Christian Volunteer” refers to himself as School Chaplain in spite of the current illegality of official School Chaplains. The parent’s grammar is markedly better. The parent also provides frequent creative imagery … and hilarity ensues.)

Sing not to heaven

Back when I attended a Christian university, there was a weekly gathering up in the seminary chapel, where people would go and sing hymns and “praise and worship” (camp-y) songs. I went now and then, not so much for the content as for the form – I love to sing, even though I consider my own voice mediocre. I decided for the time being that the content didn’t matter so much.

At those meetings, everyone faced pretty much the same direction in pretty much the same way. While a few would sit down on the floor and look downward, introspectively, and a few would stand at the back and glance around the room occasionally, most stood in a pack in the middle of the floor, face-forward. If they weren’t reading the words off the projector screen, they would gaze upwards, as if they were trying to sing to an invisible something somewhere near the ceiling, or through it. They would sing words about wanting to see this “You”, wanting to know it/him/her, wanting to understand it, to love it, to be loved by it.

And I could not help but think, when I saw them gaze longingly skyward as they sang such words,…

* * *

Ma chère Piety,

I think you fear responsibility.

All of the beauty, all of the strength, the wisdom and compassion you praise in your God: these are the very best in humanity. And all of the ugliness, the violence, malice, and cruelty you condemn as Satan — these are the worst of what humans do. All that you praise, that you worship with your eyes to the stars, and all that you decry as evil, looking toward the lava of earth’s core…. All of your sacredness and all of your evil is within us. It is us.

It is all about people, the best to the worst contained wholly in one human, and I think that it is this which you cannot handle. You can’t believe that good and evil can live shoulder to shoulder in one being, nor that extreme (supreme) good or extreme evil can belong to something that is so — so utterly — ordinary. So unexceptional. That the woman scrupulously inspecting every apple at the grocery, before settling at last on the first one she picked up, can be both demon and saint.

You cannot believe it. You can’t believe in humans. So you fracture them, and believe in gods instead.

And if evil and good are all in us, all in you, then the only ones who are responsible for all of the good that we do to each other and for all of the evil we do each other, too, is us, ourselves. If good is to happen, we must do it. If evil is done, it’s entirely on us.

That kind of responsibility is just too frightening, it seems. It’s too much for you to bear.

You all sing with such longing, such praise, such yearning to ‘see’ — if only you could see that what you are really singing to is no God at all, but each other!

Cordialement,

Arestelle