His Holiness is a wonderful source of stupidity.
His latest offering includes a generous dollop of insensitivity to boot. Upon arriving in Africa he declared that the use of condoms in the fight against AIDS contributes to the moral collapse of humanity. The traditional teachings of the Church would be a much better solution. Abstinence. Of course, it is easy. The best way of preventing the spread of a sexually transmitted disease is to stop people having sex. Brilliant!
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Creating stupidity
I found a leaflet last week in the post from the local Christian fundamentalists. These are the folks who believe that the world was made just as the Bible tells us by God in 6 days.
The leaflet tells readers that it is their free choice to believe in the literal truth of the creation story described in the Bible or to believe scientific explanations about how planet earth and the life she supports came into being. For, it claims, scientific theories are just that. Theories. They do not necessarily describe the Truth. The theory that God created the world in 6 days is to this extent on the same level as scientific theory. There is no independent way of choosing, no evidence that could establish definitively which theory is true. It is a matter of faith. So it is up to the reader to choose which faith to follow.
The choice presented is twofold: Christian fundamentalism or a simplistic and inaccurate rendition of the theory of evolution. Other religious faiths and more nuanced scientific explanations do not come into the picture.
These people must be amongst the most blinkered and stupid on the planet. It is undoubtedly true in principle that science cannot claim to have discovered the Truth - science itself discovered relativism many decades ago. It is also true that the machinations of life's mystery are not covered by the theory of evolution. But to use these doubts alone to suggest that there is but one other choice, a literal interpretation of the Bible, is plain stupid.
But it is more than just plain stupid. It is the worst kind of populism. For the leaflet was distributed throughout the whole country, it came through every letterbox, trawling the entire population for stupidity.
The leaflet tells readers that it is their free choice to believe in the literal truth of the creation story described in the Bible or to believe scientific explanations about how planet earth and the life she supports came into being. For, it claims, scientific theories are just that. Theories. They do not necessarily describe the Truth. The theory that God created the world in 6 days is to this extent on the same level as scientific theory. There is no independent way of choosing, no evidence that could establish definitively which theory is true. It is a matter of faith. So it is up to the reader to choose which faith to follow.
The choice presented is twofold: Christian fundamentalism or a simplistic and inaccurate rendition of the theory of evolution. Other religious faiths and more nuanced scientific explanations do not come into the picture.
These people must be amongst the most blinkered and stupid on the planet. It is undoubtedly true in principle that science cannot claim to have discovered the Truth - science itself discovered relativism many decades ago. It is also true that the machinations of life's mystery are not covered by the theory of evolution. But to use these doubts alone to suggest that there is but one other choice, a literal interpretation of the Bible, is plain stupid.
But it is more than just plain stupid. It is the worst kind of populism. For the leaflet was distributed throughout the whole country, it came through every letterbox, trawling the entire population for stupidity.
Monday, January 26, 2009
The slaughter of the innocents
I cannot fathom the levels of ignorance prejudice and downright stupidity required to accept the assertion that contraceptive advice is a slaughter of the innocents.
But this is exactly what a spokesman for the Roman Catholic Church said. In reaction to President Obama's making available money for international family planning agencies. The largest religion in the world, the leader of which is regarded by the pious as God's representative on Planet Earth. The man who on the same day lifted the excommunications of four bishops appointed by the renegade archbishop Levebvre in 1988 - one of whom denies that 6 million Jews died in Nazi concentration camps.
So .... reactions against the new president have thus begun. By those who know that pious Catholics will begin to doubt his moral integrity. The purveyors of dogma and delusion, preying on the innocent.
But this is exactly what a spokesman for the Roman Catholic Church said. In reaction to President Obama's making available money for international family planning agencies. The largest religion in the world, the leader of which is regarded by the pious as God's representative on Planet Earth. The man who on the same day lifted the excommunications of four bishops appointed by the renegade archbishop Levebvre in 1988 - one of whom denies that 6 million Jews died in Nazi concentration camps.
So .... reactions against the new president have thus begun. By those who know that pious Catholics will begin to doubt his moral integrity. The purveyors of dogma and delusion, preying on the innocent.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Security
“Shoes."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Take your shoes off ..."
"Why?"
"Random check."
"I find this process utterly dehumanising ... on what basis was I randomly chosen?"
"I have to work a percentage."
"So you hadn't chosen anybody for a while then?"
"No, actually I have chosen quite few already."
"So why me then?"
I take off a shoe and toss it onto the rollers. She thinks I have thrown it at her and looks at me agressively. One of her colleagues - an older man with a moustache and an earphone on a wiggly wire comes over.
"Look, if you want to complain, you can speak to the supervisor."
"I am not complaning, I just want to know why I was randomly chosen."
I tell her I was not throwing the shoe at her. She tells me I should have put it in one of the special trays.
I remove all metal objects from my person, display my resealable plastic bag of toothpaste balsams and salves, and briefly panic when I cannot find my laptop in my shoulder bag before realising it has already gone through the tunnel. I walk through the sensor gate without a peep.
I stand at the other side gathering together my belongings and tell the woman that it is nothing personal, that I find the whole process utterly dehumanizing and ask her again why she chose me at random.
The same man with the moustache comes over. He tells me that if I want to complain I should speak to the supervisor. I tell him that I was simply trying to tell the woman that it is nothing personal. Surely I am allowed to tell her this and express my feelings about the process as such. He tells me that it is for my security.
At which point my fury takes on a new, silent form. Security. This integration of systems of surveillance and conveyance, and the naked confrontation between the people who are employed by them and those who have no choice but to use them.
He says that they get this all the time and that I should speak to the supervisor. I notice that the woman who asked for my shoes has now been replaced by another - equally surly, playing the hardcase, trying to stare me out. I look back at her, focusing intently about a yard behind her eyes.
Clothed but not particularly comfortable or composed, I stomp off towards the departure lounge. Passing by the special offers on whisky, I realise that I want to get this off my chest, so I return to seek out the supervisor.
I tell her that I did not like being accused of throwing a shoe at one of her staff, that I would still rather like to know about the notion of ‘random’ being employed here, and that this procerss of security is not only dehumanizing but it has very little to do with security. Nobody who wants to blow up a plane is going to try to do so via the passenger cabin. If bombs are to be placed then some poorly paid baggage handler who has been working in the basement for years will be given the nod or otherwise nobbled.
She wants to know which aisle I came through. I tell her that I do not want to get anybody into trouble, that my problem is with the system as such and with their methods of randomly chosing. She says that personel have a quota of random shoes for each shift. I say that unless a machine is generating the random numbers, then it is not properly random. If a human being is chosing, then there will always be a reason. I suggest she check this with a pysychologist.
She says that they should perhaps use a more appropriate method of chosing people at randon, but that they do not get the equipment. I tell her that I am fed up with being picked out at borders for reasons of security. I suggest it has something to do with my appearance. She tells me that often the millionaires are dressed as I am, while the suits are just as likely to be smuggling. Perhaps I am a millionaire I say, but it should make no difference. We agree that we should not judge a book by its cover. In any case, I add, I have it on good authority that the passenger most often caught smuggling cocaine into one rich western country in his hand luggage is a man in a suit. She laughs in agreement, apparently confirming that this is her experience here too.
I tell her that I have now got off my chest what was on it. She tells me that this is what she is here for.
I leave for the departure lounge with my other ordinary woes, turning over the meaning of security, trying to fathom this insanity to which humanity has brought itself.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Take your shoes off ..."
"Why?"
"Random check."
"I find this process utterly dehumanising ... on what basis was I randomly chosen?"
"I have to work a percentage."
"So you hadn't chosen anybody for a while then?"
"No, actually I have chosen quite few already."
"So why me then?"
I take off a shoe and toss it onto the rollers. She thinks I have thrown it at her and looks at me agressively. One of her colleagues - an older man with a moustache and an earphone on a wiggly wire comes over.
"Look, if you want to complain, you can speak to the supervisor."
"I am not complaning, I just want to know why I was randomly chosen."
I tell her I was not throwing the shoe at her. She tells me I should have put it in one of the special trays.
I remove all metal objects from my person, display my resealable plastic bag of toothpaste balsams and salves, and briefly panic when I cannot find my laptop in my shoulder bag before realising it has already gone through the tunnel. I walk through the sensor gate without a peep.
I stand at the other side gathering together my belongings and tell the woman that it is nothing personal, that I find the whole process utterly dehumanizing and ask her again why she chose me at random.
The same man with the moustache comes over. He tells me that if I want to complain I should speak to the supervisor. I tell him that I was simply trying to tell the woman that it is nothing personal. Surely I am allowed to tell her this and express my feelings about the process as such. He tells me that it is for my security.
At which point my fury takes on a new, silent form. Security. This integration of systems of surveillance and conveyance, and the naked confrontation between the people who are employed by them and those who have no choice but to use them.
He says that they get this all the time and that I should speak to the supervisor. I notice that the woman who asked for my shoes has now been replaced by another - equally surly, playing the hardcase, trying to stare me out. I look back at her, focusing intently about a yard behind her eyes.
Clothed but not particularly comfortable or composed, I stomp off towards the departure lounge. Passing by the special offers on whisky, I realise that I want to get this off my chest, so I return to seek out the supervisor.
I tell her that I did not like being accused of throwing a shoe at one of her staff, that I would still rather like to know about the notion of ‘random’ being employed here, and that this procerss of security is not only dehumanizing but it has very little to do with security. Nobody who wants to blow up a plane is going to try to do so via the passenger cabin. If bombs are to be placed then some poorly paid baggage handler who has been working in the basement for years will be given the nod or otherwise nobbled.
She wants to know which aisle I came through. I tell her that I do not want to get anybody into trouble, that my problem is with the system as such and with their methods of randomly chosing. She says that personel have a quota of random shoes for each shift. I say that unless a machine is generating the random numbers, then it is not properly random. If a human being is chosing, then there will always be a reason. I suggest she check this with a pysychologist.
She says that they should perhaps use a more appropriate method of chosing people at randon, but that they do not get the equipment. I tell her that I am fed up with being picked out at borders for reasons of security. I suggest it has something to do with my appearance. She tells me that often the millionaires are dressed as I am, while the suits are just as likely to be smuggling. Perhaps I am a millionaire I say, but it should make no difference. We agree that we should not judge a book by its cover. In any case, I add, I have it on good authority that the passenger most often caught smuggling cocaine into one rich western country in his hand luggage is a man in a suit. She laughs in agreement, apparently confirming that this is her experience here too.
I tell her that I have now got off my chest what was on it. She tells me that this is what she is here for.
I leave for the departure lounge with my other ordinary woes, turning over the meaning of security, trying to fathom this insanity to which humanity has brought itself.
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