A few quickies:

Of course, the events in and around Zimbabwe never fail to sadden me. Note the “If we all believe it, it can be true” wishful thinking of South Africa’s president Thabo Mbeki, who pronounced that there was no crisis in Zimbabwe. This, hours before the convening of the Southern African Development Community summit to discuss the crisis in Zimbabwe. Okay then, so two weeks passing since the presidential election with no word on results is normal? The current president and his party pushing for 1) a recount and 2) a runoff election before results are released is indicative of a stable, smoothly-functioning government? We are looking at either an imminent explosion of violence, or the leaden acceptance of a permanent regime, impervious to even the most basic mechanisms of democracy. I’d call either a crisis.

Cuba has shown some surprising developments in a more positive direction under Raul Castro. The latest reforms incentivize production and warrant new confidence in property titles. Now while I don’t doubt that such changes are purely tactical, designed to give Cuba and its government a little more breathing room while still preserving the bulk of the communist agenda, an increase in freedom is always to be welcomed. A little freedom tends to beget more freedom, at least at the sorrier end of the spectrum of liberty.

Finally, in non-current events, have a gander at the amazing eight-minute animated short Tango (1980) by Zbigniew Rybczyński. I originally saw this piece as part of this compilation, but it doesn’t appear to be part of any DVD currently in print. If it strikes you as familiar, you might be remembering the video for Redundant by Green Day about ten years ago, which was an homage.

Among my more liberal friends are another homeschooling and Oberlin couple like us, and when the conversation drifts over into politics, they always give us good food for thought. One particular position of theirs has always intrigued me, but never sat quite right (and I hope I’m not misrepresenting them here in my explanation). It plays out like this: they tout the supposedly unique benefits that collective action and funding through taxation can provide. We respond saying “Perhaps, but don’t we have the right to disagree? Why should we be forced to contribute to fund a scheme we truly don’t believe is in our interest?”. And they come back with “If it were practical, we could agree to that. But it’s not. The costs of trying to find out who should or should not have access to the county hospital, the roads, the fire service, etc. would make administration too cumbersome.”

At that point, our argument breaks down because of lack of shared premises. Where I would say “Well that’s too fucking bad for your utopian dreams then.”, they are comfortable with imposing the will of the majority upon minority position holders like me and Rebecca. But it’s not without some regret at having to commit an injustice (compelling our cooperation) to achieve a “greater good”.

However, I recently began to feel that I do not think they are being imaginative enough. One the one hand, there are all of the new capabilities that technology offers for sorting out, let’s call them, the Tax Cooperators and the Tax Rejectors. Would I, for example, be willing to have a small sub-dermal RFID implanted to identify me as a Tax Rejector to give the authorities a way to positively ID me as someone who should not be given state-financed emergency medical assistance? Hell yes!

And on a more radical front, one could imagine using certain edges of the country for other types of regulatory liberalism: a labor law free zone, a drug law free zone, or even a place where there would be no expectation of community-delivered infrastructure whatsoever. Places that people like myself could be left alone to opt out of communal schemes.

If my friends are truly serious that forcing me and those like me to finance systems we do not believe in is an unfortunate but necessary evil, then they should try harder to avoid burdening us. If they don’t, then I’d suggest that they are the sort of people who, when considering their own convenience, place not the slightest value on the independence of others, and that they secretly believe that their preferred system could never survive on voluntary cooperation alone.

I’ll come out of retirement to note this hopeful turn of events in Zimbabwe: Mugabe aides discuss ceding power. Things are likely to still turn pretty ugly and violent, but that’s been the likely scenario for awhile now. I hope the inevitable difficult transition is mercifully short, and that Zimbabweans can begin reclaiming their lives soon.

There are few more enthusiastic supporters of Christmas than I (at least among atheists), and I particularly enjoy Christmas songs and carols. From a lyrical standpoint, my favorite is Good King Wenceslas, although until about an hour ago, I hadn’t thought to identify the reason why. I knew it certainly wasn’t because of the ultimate lines:

Therefore, Christian men, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing
Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing

I mean, Blechh! Am I right, people? Seriously, though, what have always struck me as particularly moving were the fourth and first half of the fifth stanzas:

PAGE: “Sire, the night is darker now
And the wind blows stronger
Fails my heart, I know not how,
I can go no longer.”
KING: “Mark my footsteps, my good page
Tread thou in them boldly
Thou shalt find the winter’s rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly.”
In his master’s steps he trod
Where the snow lay dinted
Heat was in the very sod
Which the Saint had printed

It’s a simple and beautiful lyric illustrating the power of modeling courage. We’ve all been there when our last reserves have been tapped, but have drawn the strength to persevere from the confident courage of another. I also find these lines powerful for their portrayal of leadership by example. Wenceslas the monarch is not just a ruler, but literally a leader to his subjects. With most Christmas songs and carols as exercises in frivolity, or devotions to the infant or Mary, it’s nice to have a carol this atheist can get behind!

A few weeks ago, I was watching Penn and Teller’s Bullshit on Showtime. For their episode on the ADA, they interviewed Edward Hudgins, executive director of The Atlas Society, formerly known as both the Institute for Objectivist Studies (IOS) and The Objectivist Center (TOC). My heart began racing when I saw him on my television screen. I know Ed Hudgins from my many years of attending the annual week-long IOS summer seminars, back in the mid-nineties, when Johnathan and I were among a small group of people who chose to spend their summer vacations studying Objectivist philosophy with the institute. Back then, Ed was director of regulatory studies at the Cato Institute in D.C., and he was a regular speaker and active participant at the yearly seminars. Even back then, he was a funny little middle-aged man with a black mustache and a bounce to his step. Not your typical Casanova. But boy, was I infatuated with him. I attended every one of his lectures and was way too nervous to ever ask a question or speak to him casually during social encounters. I never did get up the courage to do more than hover nearby and eavesdrop on his conversations with others. Though I was happily married to Johnathan at the time, I was like a schoolgirl with a crush when I was around Ed. Seeing him on Penn and Teller’s program, and knowing that he’s becoming an ever more frequent interviewee on CNN and on radio, I found myself thinking possessively: “Great, I liked him way back before he was famous and popular. Now everyone’s going to have a crush on him.” And then I laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all. Did I really think women everywhere would start falling for Ed Hudgins?

I’ve always been attracted to the unusual, I suppose, the nerdy. It’s not that I like nerdiness per se, but rather what those deemed “nerds” often possess — individuality, a trueness to self, a critical eye on the status quo, and most of all, intelligence. Back in high school, when most women my age were drooling over Jon Bon Jovi and Tom Cruise, I found myself attracted to John Linnell of They Might Be Giants (often classified as “nerd rock”) and Val Kilmer (due largely to his role as a genius in the 1985 film Real Genius). I was the sort who was disappointed by the popular film Pretty In Pink. I simply couldn’t understand why Andie would ever want Blane (Andrew McCarthy) when she had unique and true Duckie (Jon Cryer) by her side. And Angela was all wrong to dote on Jordan Catalano in My So-Called Life. Sure, Brian could have used a haircut and some new clothes, but he was a far more interesting and appealing character than the simpleminded and dull Jordan. I myself had one real-life crush during high school. His name was Francis. Need I say more?

When I met Johnathan in college, he turned my world upside-down. And not because I was swept away by good looks or a flashy style (if anything, John’s style sort of creeped me out). What impressed and intrigued me were his ideas. He challenged me to think in ways I had never attempted before. Never had I met anyone with such intelligence, integrity, and passion for truth. He prompted me to change in many ways, and each change was an improvement. When it first became clear to my family that along with my new boyfriend came some fundamental changes in my beliefs, I recall my mother reassuring herself that I was merely blinded by love. But she had it all wrong. I hadn’t questioned and subsequently changed my beliefs because I loved Johnathan; I loved him because he challenged me to question my beliefs in the first place. His passion was infectious, his intelligence guiding, and through him I discovered a whole new way to approach life. In Johnathan, I had found the ultimate “nerd”, and my soul-mate.

I don’t find myself attracted to many men other than my husband these days, but when I do, the subject of my attraction is almost certain to be, well, an unusual choice. My heart still races when my TV or radio tunes into an interview with Ed Hudgins. And I still have a soft spot for John Linnell (who fortunately now writes wonderful children’s music which I can enjoy with my children). I guess to me, smart will always be sexy.

We found out a couple weeks ago that our new baby is a girl. The entire family is thrilled and excited.

Now the long, dull process of trying to choose and agree upon a name…

Here are some pics of the little lady:

Gestating… again. It’s my excuse for doing almost nothing else during the past three months. Johnathan and I are expecting our fifth child in April. Here’s a pic of the little bugger (from about a month ago). Isn’t s/he cute?

In a conversation about what happens to us when we die, a friend of mine recently asked me “what’s wrong with leaving my mind open to the possibility that my consciousness might go on after my body dies”? I found it a fascinating question. It’s interesting to me that my friend spoke specifically of leaving her mind “open” to this very pleasant and comforting possibility. She’s never mentioned leaving her mind open to any of the other infinite, yet equally valid, unpleasant “possibilities” one could imagine. Adopting such a position seems far less about having an “open mind” than about shielding a specific and deeply held wish from rational scrutiny.

In common parlance, having an “open mind” is considered a positive thing. To call someone close-minded is to accuse him of being unthinking, prejudiced, impervious to new ideas, evidence, and information. But the term “open mind” is an ambiguous one. On the one hand, it carries the connotation of objectivity and impartiality, but it is often invoked as a call for perpetual skepticism, which is incompatible with objectivity.

In Philosophy: Who Needs It, Ayn Rand wrote:

What objectivity and the study of philosophy require is not an “open mind,” but an active mind—a mind able and eagerly willing to examine ideas, but to examine them critically. An active mind does not grant equal status to truth and falsehood; it does not remain floating forever in a stagnant vacuum of neutrality and uncertainty; by assuming the responsibility of judgment, it reaches firm convictions and holds to them. Since it is able to prove its convictions, an active mind achieves an unassailable certainty in confrontations with assailants—a certainty untainted by spots of blind faith, approximation, evasion and fear.

An active mind does not grant equal status to rationally-supported conclusions and any “possibility” anyone’s imagination might produce. It knows that perpetual skepticism is at odds with rationality. So what’s wrong with admitting that there’s no evidence supporting the conclusion, but leaving your mind “open to the possibility” of consciousness after death? Well, first, to use the term “possible” to label an arbitrary claim (one with no evidence to support it) is to fly in the face of reason. The term “possible” is a point on the continuum of rational validation. If a conclusion has some (but not much) evidence in favor of it, and no facts contradict it, it can be said to be possible. One cannot manufacture valid possibilities without any evidence, however; one can only manufacture wishes and fantasies.

Second, what could leaving one’s mind open to the “possibility of consciousness after death” actually mean? It’s a position that seems indistinguishable from merely wishing for consciousness after death. If I leave my mind open to the possibility that I’m pregnant, or that I’ll be invited to the wedding of an acquaintance, or that I may decide to go to medical school, I’ll likely alter my thinking and behavior a bit (skip the glass of wine, keep the wedding date open, or opt into a pre-requisite med school class). That’s because I know these possibilities will — with further thought, research, or information –move along the continuum of rational validation to conclusions that are “probable” then “certain” or, alternately, “improbable” and then “impossible”.

But what could it mean for me to keep my mind open to the possibility that there are invisible gremlins in my closet, or that there’s a colony of wish-granting genies on an as-yet-undetected moon of Jupiter, or that people really are immortal beings? If you’re the sort who considers it rationally sound to keep your mind open to the possibility of consciousness after death, do you also keep your mind open to the possibility of every imaginable claim? Probably not. Those infinite and often mutually-exclusive flights of fancy would cancel each other out, leaving your “open-mindedness” paralyzed by uncertainty and irrationality, unable to denote anything remotely objective or impartial, and ultimately unable to influence your thoughts, behaviors, or decisions in any meaningful way. I think what people really mean when they say they’re keeping an “open mind” about life after death is that they wish for life after death (after all, nobody talks of keeping an open mind about the possibility of eternal, silent suffering after death). And they think they’ve found a way to grant their wish the status of a possibility and thus insulate it from the rational arguments of those who would dash their hopes.

Contrary to their protestations that they are only being open-minded when they insist on granting their wish the status of possibility, such a person is in fact guilty of a very common form of close-mindedness: self-serving bias. With the infinite range of the arbitrary spread before them, the person who makes a point (either explicitly or simply by omission) of considering only pleasant possibilities is using an invalid criterion, their fear and discomfort, as a basis to dismiss unpleasant ideas as untrue, or as less likely. It should be obvious where such a primrose path will lead.

A poster on my local homeschool group yesterday asked if anyone in the group could recommend a local iridologist. She had used one elsewhere before and was now “in need of one” again. She wrote: “I went to a great one… who could tell me everything that was wrong with me without having to tell him any symptoms. It saves alot [sic] of trouble rather than having endless tests done by a regular doctor and lab.”

Yup. That’s one thing I’ve always wanted: a health care practitioner who will diagnose me and subject me to treatments without ever considering my symptoms and without doing any confirming tests. And how exactly does she know that this iridologist figured out everything that was wrong with her? Did she already know everything that was wrong with her? Or did she run out and get confirming diagnoses for everything he claimed was wrong (probably not… that would have been too many tests). Might he have misdiagnosed? Missed something important? Might there have been nothing wrong?

I’m continually amazed at how otherwise sensible people can fall prey to such irrationality. And what is it about homeschoolers that makes them so much more likely to eschew science and jump on anything that claims to be “natural” or “alternative”? Maybe because homeschooling is an “alternative” approach to education? But the fact that it’s unconventional isn’t what makes it good. And the fact that a medical practice is unconventional doesn’t make it good or trustworthy either. It either works or it doesn’t. Iridology doesn’t. In fact, the research is overwhelming that it’s useless as a diagnostic tool, no better at diagnosing health conditions than your doctor flipping a coin would be (from Wikipedia: “Well controlled scientific evaluation of iridology has shown entirely negative results”). I know many people who remain skeptical about the efficacy and safety of rigorously tested and documented “Western” medicines and yet will pay good money for an “alternative” snake oil that’s actually been demonstrated to be ineffective over and over. What gives?

If you have a 3-year-old like mine, you hear “why” questions quite a bit. “Why do I have to eat my dinner before I have some candy?” “Why shouldn’t I hit my brother?” “Why shouldn’t I tell a lie?” I have a thorough understanding of my moral code, so such questions don’t throw me. I know the answers, and they make sense. I can explain them to my kids without resorting to appeals to authority or some sort of categorical imperative; I can convey the principles behind any specific “why”. But that’s because my morality is one rooted in self-interest. My standard is one even my kids can recognize as meaningful and valid: we behave in certain ways because we have determined such actions to be in our own long-term self-interest. They understand it; they can see why “being good” is good. After all, defined this way, who wouldn’t want to be good?

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about the prevailing moral code in this world, the one antithetical to my own– the altruistic, self-sacrificing code put forth by all religions as well as most secular ethical systems. I imagine myself a three-year-old child and I ask: “Why should I follow this code? Why be “good” when “good” is defined as self-denial and self-sacrifice?” I imagine asking this question of, say, a Christian and I think I know how most would ultimately answer: Because doing so will bring happiness, joy, deliverance into eternal bliss with God. This is the only compelling reason they could possibly put forth, and not surprisingly, it’s an egoistic one. If this is indeed the answer, then the Christian answer to “why be moral” does boil down to self-interest… just with the added unfounded belief that there is a mystical element to the game of life which for some unknown reason requires us to act against our own self-interest on Earth in order to achieve it in some supernatural realm. But sweep away all the hocus-pocus, and the so-called “altruistic” morality flows from an egoistic standard of value. You hear all the elements of this rationale in churches everywhere — do or be X and you will enter the kingdom of God; do or be Y and you will burn in hell. But it’s rarely (if ever) put out there in its most naked, egoistic form (i.e., do or be X so that you will enter the kingdom of God) as believers don’t wish to admit openly that self-interest drives their morality. Doing so would render them immoral according to their own code because “X” includes acting selflessly and “Y” includes acting selfishly. Quite a catch-22.

I’m genuinely curious how those who hold to an altruistic code try to rectify this contradiction within their morality, as I see no way out except by willful evasion. So I challenge any believers or devil’s-advocates that may be out there to consider the following and answer the questions posed at the end:

Imagine that your god (or your preferred source of categorical moral imperatives) asks you (as you probably believe he really does) to practice the self-sacrificing moral code of altruism throughout your time here on Earth. However, the direct result of your success at acting morally will be that 3 random strangers will achieve eternal bliss in heaven, while you will suffer eternally in hell. You will not ever reap any rewards from “being good” as you are doomed to be in mental and physical anguish for all time. This is what your god declares to be good. If you choose not to be good, you have a 50/50 chance of ending up in heaven or hell. Do you choose to follow his code and “be good”? Why or why not?