This continues, rather abruptly, at the point I left off in the last installment, so if you want to contextualise this, it would be helpful to read over the last couple paragraphs of the first installment.


I repeat what I just said, so that I don’t forget it, that Boghossian’s conception of faith is simply a straw man. Becuase if faith is, as he says, an epistemology, then it should be a matter of supplying reasons for beliefs, and that is not, by and large, how the word ‘faith’ is used in religious contexts. Faith is much more holistic than that, and concerns a general world-view in which concepts which refer to supernatural entities plays a subordinate part. Religions are worldviews, not lists of beliefs for which reasons are given. That doesn’t mean, mark you, that giving reasons is irrelevant to religious beliefs, but it simply cannot be held that religious beliefs are, one and all, factual beliefs, for which evidence can be provided.

One of the first things that anyone interested in religion must do is actually to look at what religious people claim, and how they account for the various beliefs that they hold. Many of the beliefs that Boghossian singles out for special reprobation are ones which many religious believers do not hold in the simplistic way that Boghossian suggests that they do, and when he illustrates his street epistemology with examples of interventions they almost always turn on simplifications of how “faith” functions in religious contexts. While it is true that some Christians make a great song and dance about the historicity of the resurrection, it is important that many Christian theologians do not, and construe resurrection, based on the accounts we have in the New Testament, as something other than an historically delimited reality. In other words, just reading the accounts of the resurrection in the New Testament (mainly the gospels, though Paul is not to be ignored, since he claims to have seen an appearance of the risen Christ), as factual accounts simply will not do, and nowhere does Boghossian consider any of the things that people have actually said about the resurrection, just that it concerned the raising from the tomb of the man Jesus. Certainly, some believers do believe that that is precisely what happened, but there is no satisfactory evidence that the supposed experiences of the risen Jesus can be dealt with in this way. There is simply too much written about this to do it justice here. But one might do worse than look at an exchange between two Anglican Christians, Don Cupitt and C.F.D. Moule, on the subject of the resurrection, one of them saying that he finds it incredible that there should have been such a movement of Christianity if there had not been an historically verifiable event at the heart of the surprising flourishing of Christianity. This is the so-called “beaten man” argument, which is responded to by Don Cupitt, who justly claims a realistic historical belief in the resurrection simply does not make sense of the sources. (See “The Resurrection: A Disagreement” in Cupitt 1979)

But all one needs to do is to look at the resurrection stories in the gospels and note that they are not coherent together. The accounts do not agree, and there is a clear development of the tradition at work, so that it is reasonably clear that something other than a realistic account must be given of the conviction of the first Christians that Jesus Christ was alive. It won’t do to say that resurrection belief is pretending to know something that people do not know (and perhaps cannot know), since the texts themselves give no confirmation of the supposed events they (only apparently) describe. A body that retains the gaping wounds of the crucifixion, that can walk through locked doors, that is not recognised by his friends: one could go on. Obviously, something other than factual, historical description is at work. Indeed, Dominic Crossan’s book Who Killed Jesus? (Crossan 1995) is a sustained attack on the notion that we are here dealing with anything intended to be an historically remembered account of events that happened in first century Palestine. Instead, he gives good reason for believing that the resurrection is a theological belief, based on the completed life of Jesus and the significance that that life and death had after being passed through the alembic of theological processes of interpretation. And this is Cupitt’s point too. But if that is what the resurrection is – namely, a theological construct – then the simplistic claim that we are dealing here with a pretence to know something that we cannot know is just that, simplistic (and, we might add, misleading). Indeed, one of the things that Boghossian simply ignores is the obvious fact that he ignores everything but the most simplistic way that some people have of understanding religious claims such as the one that “Jesus lives,” something that was only worked out (and is still being worked out) over long periods of time. Religious faith – if we must stick with that expression – is a complex matter in which explicit beliefs about supernatural events (the interpretive or symbolic level of faith) are part of a theologically interpreted account of what actually took place (in historical time). Read the rest of this entry »

I have been reading Peter Boghossian’s book fairly closely over the last week or so. Here is a first instalment of my notes on this book. As you will see, I think there are serious problems with the book. I think it is fundamentally wrong-headed. It is based, in my view, on a mistaken notion of faith, and the consequences are disastrous. These are simply undigested notes from Notabene Lingua Workstation, which is a word processor, note taking, bibliography, text search program without parallel. Well worth your while if you need a place to keep all your work in one place, organised, with a searchable database of everything you have written. And before the new version (Notabene 10) is released within the next couple of weeks, you can get a copy on sale ( This critique also includes many of the reasons I have become, over the last few years, much more sceptical of the trend that contemporary atheism has been taking. The following text is very long (some 15000 words in all), but for that I make no apology.


Boghossian, P. (2013) A Manual for Creating Atheists. Durham, North Carolina: Pitchstone Publishing (Kindle edition)

“Hitchens may be gone? but no Single individual will take his place. Instead of a replacement Horseman, there are millions of Horsemen ushering in a new Enlightenment and an Age of Reason. You, the reader, will be one of these Horsemen. You will become a Street Epistemologist. You will transform a broken world long ruled by unquestioned faith into a society built on reason, evidence, and thought-out positions. This is work that needs to be done and work that will pay off by potentially helping millions— even billions— of people to live in a better world.” Boghossian, Peter (2013-10-26). A Manual for Creating Atheists (Kindle Locations 226-227). Pitchstone Publishing. Kindle Edition. The reference to “unquestioned faith,” while pretty standard amongst atheists, is not true to a large segment of thoughtful Christianity. Indeed, issues of faith are scrupulously reasoned, tested, argued over, and very often undecided. Fundamentalism, a contemporary distortion of the idea of faith, while it does betray all the signs of epistemic and doxastic closure that Boghossian identifies with faith, is not representative of the Christian tradition as a whole. Of course, many people are guilty of doxastic closure, but religious believers are not the only ones. I have been concerned for some time with what I consider the epistemic closure that has become characteristic of contemporary atheism. Boghossian betrays this tendency, and thus the cause that is so close to his heart.

Most paragraphs begin with a quotation from the Kindle edition of Boghossian’s book. My contribution is in the form of commentary. These are, as I say, fairly undigested notations, and I offer them with appropriate epistemic humility.

“faith … 1. Belief without evidence. “My definition of faith is that it’s a leap over the probabilities. It fills in the gap between what is improbable to make something more probable than not without faith. As such, faith is an irrational leap over the probabilities.” —John W. Loftus, “Victor Reppert Now Says He Doesn’t Have Faith!” (Loftus, 2012)” (Boghossian 2013, 303–308). This may be widely thought to be true, but, while faith is often defined in terms of “deepities”, faith is something that thoughtful Christians discuss endlessly, and by no means conclusively. Take Tillich’s “definition” of faith as an “act in which reason reaches ecstatically beyond itself.” (Loc 283) I couldn’t find it on the page reported by Boghossian (and there is no indication that the Harper Torchbooks edition has a different pagination than the original), but I did find this, in a French translation of The Dynamics of Faith: “La foi est donc universelle, elle se retrouve au cœur de tous les actes humains où le sens de l’existence est impliqué [my italics]. On peut dire que toutes les fois que l’inconditionné, l’absolu, est recherché en quelque domaine que ce soit — esthétique, juridique, social — la religion est présente. La religion n’est donc pas une fonction spirituelle parmi d’autres : toute expérience où il est question du sens profond de l’être a une signification religieuse.” (Tillich 1968, 13) This comes very close to the point that Dworkin makes in his book Religion without God. What Tillich is talking about here is the deep sense of existential awareness, which is presumably what he means by ‘reason reaching ecstatically beyond itself.’ That is, reaching into realms that, while able to be discussed and argued about (endlessly, perhaps), also cannot be decisively decided by reason itself. In other words, faith pertains to that of which we have a deep sense of awareness, without the ability to put that awareness into definitive descriptive or empirical terms. Yet reason, it is supposed, can take us part of the way. What Tillich says is not simply a deepity, if you take the time to unpack it a bit. It is also wrong of Boghossian to ignore the surrounding text, where all the controls of critical history, philology, etc. are being respected. The section from which he quotes is entitled, “The Truth of Faith and Historical Truth.” And throughout the chapter he is contrasting faith with science, and pointing out that theologians should not use science to ground faith. Taking the quotation out of context is basically dishonest. It’s only a deepity if, indeed, it is taken on its own, without the surrounding qualifications. That’s not to say that the faithful never resort to deepities, for of course, like scientists themselves, they do, but it is prevarication to suggest that only religious voices utter deepities. Remarks by some new atheists regarding free will, and the supposedly defective “responsibility system” dependent upon it, are as close to deepities as it is possible to get, and it is irresponsible (I think) to suggest otherwise.

The second definition of faith Boghossian suggests is “pretending to know things you don’t know.” ‘As a Street Epistemologist, whenever you hear the word “faith,” just translate this in your head as, “pretending to know things you don’t know.”’ (Boghossian 2013, 328–329) He suggests the following as an interpretation of “She’s having a crisis of faith”: ‘“She’s having a crisis of pretending to know things she doesn’t know.” Alternatively, “She is struck by the fact that she’s been pretending to know things she doesn’t know.”’ (Boghossian 2013, 365–67) This won’t do, because having a crisis of faith is having an existential crisis, for faith is more about the meaning of life as a whole than it is believing specific things that you don’t know. It’s simply an oversimplification of the way that the word ‘faith’ is used in many religious contexts. And when people are talking about faith, they are not simply speaking about things they don’t know; they are speaking about real experiences in their own lives. This was Tillich’s point too. By reducing religious faith to the belief in a supernatural (yet at the same time an apparently natural) entity, religious faith is torn out of its context. Yes, such beliefs do occur in religious systems of belief, but religious belief systems are much more holistic than that. It is a weakness of modern fundamentalism that it assimilated its belief system to the belief system of science, instead of revising it so that explicitly pertained to the existential instead of to the existent. Indeed, as many contemporary theologians have pointed out, you can dispense with belief in supernatural entities altogether without necessarily destroying religious systems of belief as the framework for functional worldviews.

A clue to Boghossian’s aim is to be found in the following: “When the faithful say, “Jesus walked on water,” they are not saying they hope Jesus walked on water, but rather are claiming Jesus actually did walk on water.” (Boghossian 2013, 379–80) Well, but all sorts of Christians do not pretend to know that Jesus walked on water, or to have faith that he did, nor are they pretending about Jesus’ abilities to defy the laws of physics. Fundamentalists, perhaps, but not everyone who has faith. If he is attacking fundamentalist ideas of faith, then his target is well set up and deserving, but he shouldn’t suggest that this is simply what the word ‘faith’ means. He really must do some more conceptual analysis than this. Notice Tillich’s point: “toute expérience où il est question du sens profond de l’être a une signification religieuse.” This profound sense of being, and the wonder that derives from it, and the sense of existential crisis, if you like, that comes when one is no longer sure that one has a grasp either on its importance or its profundity, is what he identifies as the heart of faith.

Boghossian suggests that the key lies in the idea that the words ‘faith’ and ‘hope’ are being taken as synonyms, and he issues this challenge: “Give me a sentence where one must use the word “faith,” and cannot replace that with “hope,” yet at the same time isn’t an example of pretending to know something one doesn’t know.” (Boghossian 2013, 383–384) (By the by, Boghossian, for a philosopher, uses double quotes for mentioning words rather than the more usual single quotes.) But a simple sentence using the word ‘faith’ that cannot simply be replaced by ‘hope’ is this: “I have faith that my life has objective meaning, value and significance.” (This is something like Ronald Dworkin’s secular religion.) I am not pretending to know something in this case, though I am expressing my belief in a certain state of affairs, and am not just hoping that this is so.

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Veronica Abbass asked me to write something about Margaret Somerville’s recent complaint column, in which she urged people to respond to her ideas instead of criticising her religion. (See “Judge me by my ideas, not my religion.”) So, I did so, and you can access that post here, over at Canadian Atheist. Since I have in effect opened up the blog again, it seemed worthwhile to recapitulate here what I said over at Canadian Atheist, with a few modifications. (I should warn you that this is, at this point, only a one-off post. My main reason for releasing a few older posts was to help Jerry Coyne with his book. Though I have kept the domain name, I do not, for the time being, intend to return to regular blogging.)

The funny part is that Somerville should only just now have recognised that many people regard her as a spokesperson for the Roman Catholic Church. She knew, she says, that there were a few activists who so regarded her, but she was completely oblivious that this was a widely shared view. Either she is living in a cocoon, or she shows less interest in her public image than she leads us to believe, since she has become something of a darling to Canadian news media, who consult her repeatedly on issues of bioethics.

While I find it hard to believe that this is something that she did not know before, she is very lucky to have been spared for so long the dismay that this realisation has caused her. The strange thing is that she gives, in her latest contribution to the Globe and Mail, no reason at all for supposing that she is not, as it is imagined, a mouthpiece for the Roman Catholic Church. She says that she has “never argued from a religious base in presenting ethical and legal analyses of the issues with which I deal.” But this is really a bit of window dressing, since she must know that the Roman Catholic voice in the public sphere seldom puts on religious vestments; instead, it purports to speak in terms that are applicable to everybody. Indeed, it is hard to see the difference between the official Roman Catholic public voice on issues like assisted dying, homosexual marriage, AID (artificial insemination by donor), abortion, and other bioethical questions, as they impinge on law, and Margaret Somerville’s show of studied objectivity. On each of these questions she comes to conclusions which differ not at all from the teachings of her church on these matters, and uses identical types of argumentation.

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This post was first published on 30 March 2012. I have placed it here to give Jerry Coyne a URL for this post, which he may use in his new book.

Alex Schadenberg, the Executive Director of the Euthanasia Prevention Coalition, a Canadian Roman Catholic pressure group opposing assisted dying of any kind — holding even that the death of the brain-dead Terry Schaivo was murder! – and takes every possible opportunity to oppose the right to assistance in dying on the basis of Roman Catholic “pro-life” dogma (but what I choose to call the Roman Catholic death cult). He and his tiresome organisation intrudes in people’s lives even when such intervention is not only unwelcome but insulting and demeaning, and despite the fact that he has no special qualifications in bioethics, has managed to get his tendentious nonsense published in the National Post. In an article entitled “Legalizing euthanasia would leave the vulnerable unprotected,” he drags the old chestnut once again out of the fire, dusts off the burnt bits, and presents it as newly minted, hot-off-the-press, information that is vital for our society. I have (for the sake of full disclosure) a focused animus against this presumptuous and despicable man who speaks with such suffocating self-righteousness, for it was he who reported me to the police after I had returned from accompanying my wife Elizabeth to the Dignitas Clinic in Zürich, where she was helped to die before what she feared — being trapped in her body by MS — would prevent her from acting as she chose. It was a fate which, in her view, would have been far worse than death itself. It is people like Schadenberg who make sure that people like Elizabeth die before they really want to, for fear of being trapped and unable to receive the help in dying which they seek.

At the time (June 2007),  a physician spokesman for the Euthanasia Prevention Coalition claimed that it was important to have reported me to the police, in order to protect those who in future might be “bundled onto an airplane” (obviously implying that this was the case with my wife Elizabeth), and taken away to be killed against their will. And, the EPC said, it would do the same again, putting others on notice that if they should seek the release that only death would bring, they would make life as uncomfortable as possible for their loved ones. (At one point I sent an email to Schadenberg objecting to something which he had published in his newsletter, and he complained, of all things, of being harassed!) When the EPC received a great deal of unsympathetic coverage, in which it was suggested that it and its officers should mind their own damn business, Alex Schadenberg wrote a long, explanatory letter to the Halifax Chronicle-Herald, trying to convince people that there were very serious social issues at stake here which people routinely ignore, issues that need to be emphasised against what he considered widespread ignorance of the real significance of support for assisted dying (a term, of course, which neither Schadenberg nor other EPC officers will deign to use, preferring to see aid in dying as simply another permutation of murder), a significance expressed by Pope John Paul II (Pope Karol Józef Wojtyła) by the words “culture of death.” At the same time, the EPC lawyer, Hugh Scher, in a TV appearance, suggested that I had been guilty of the crime of assisted suicide, and at least some of the more extreme of those who heard him at the time rubbed their hands together in glee at the prospect of someone so dastardly and evil as me being locked up for a very long time indeed.

So, of course, it is not surprising to see Alex Schadenberg serving up his by now rather tiresome litany of abuses that he believes will immediately follow on any form of legalisation of assisted dying in Canada, abuses which he continues to allege to be rampant in jurisdictions in which assisted dying has already been legalised. His immediate target, of course, is the recent report by the special commission in Québec on the right to die with dignity, in which the legalisation of assisted dying is straightforwardly recommended. One of the important aspects of the Québec recommendations is that legalisation of assisted dying is not limited only to those with terminal illness. Of course, this is something that Schadenberg takes great exception to, since he believes, wrongly, as it turns out, that this would put the generic “vulnerable” at risk — which of course is the main burden of his National Post piece. Yet there is simply no evidence, in any jurisdiction where assisted dying has been legalised, that the so-called “vulnerable” are put at risk. This, as I have pointed out before, is a gratuitous bit of scare-mongering by those who oppose assisted dying on completely different grounds, usually religious ones. However, this does not stop Schadenberg. Not at all. He just serves up his scary confection once again, with practically no variation or attention to the actual detail of the reports and articles that he refers to. Referring to studies is meant to provide credibility, because he does not expect people actually to read anything which he cites in defence of his position. The scary scenario is what counts with Schadenberg, even if there is no reason to be afraid.

Besides, Schadenberg, by repeatedly speaking of the so-called “vulnerable” who will be put at risk by assisted dying legislation, seems to be unaware that these so-called “vulnerable” are quite as able as other people to campaign for their rights, and that some of them, who reported to the Carter trial before the BC Supreme Court, argue that they have as much right as other Canadians to seek the remedy of assisted dying should their suffering become too great to bear; and that to use the so-called “vulnerable” as those who will be put at risk by assisted dying legislation is to infantilise them, and to suggest that they are unable to stand up for themselves, or to turn away the blandishments, as we are to suppose, of those who think they ought to be dead.  (For testimony before the Carter trial, I have depended on summaries provided on the Farewell Foundation website, of which this is the first. The rest are accessible by clicking on the link at the top right hand of the page.) An Ad Hoc Coalition of People with Disabilities Who are Supportive of Physician-assisted Dying was an intervener in the Carter Trial, and it was argued on their behalf that they

… support freedom of choice in end-of-life decisions, including the freedom to choose physician-assisted dying for qualifying adults of sound mind, as a step forward for the disability rights movement that is consistent with the principles of autonomy and self-determination.

In other words, the Euthanasia Prevention Coalition has no right to speak on behalf of the disabled and other supposedly “vulnerable” people, and their claim to speak for them is an empty one.

Moreover, as the Ad Hoc Coalition argued, unregulated assisted dying is already taking place. It would be safer to bring this out into the open, rather than keeping it behind closed doors where no one has any idea how extensive the practice is, and on what grounds assistance is provided. Indeed, on one occasion during the trial, Professor Luc Deliens, who testified from Belgium by video conference, said that, while reporting of assisted dying in Belgium was not 100%, this did not help the government’s argument that assisted dying is a risk, because, as he pointed out,

Canada has very little information on the success of its prohibition law and has not taken steps to find out.

This argument is pretty decisive against Alex Schadenberg’s article as well, for he takes almost as unquestionable the reported rate of depression amongst those receiving assisted dying in the Netherlands, as though this were a decisive argument against assisted dying, when it is simply not known to what extent — in Canada – depression and withdrawal of treatment or even assistance in dying are linked, because Canada merely has a legal prohibition, and has never enquired as to the extent to which the prohibition is respected.

Schadenberg refers to an article which he says was published in the journal Clinical Oncology in 2005, which perhaps refers to one in the same journal in 2004, entitled “In the Terminally Ill, a Wish to Die is a Manifestation of Depression and Should be Treated Accordingly.” (Clinical Oncology (2004) 16: 319-320) Yet two things should be mentioned here. Depression, or some degree of existential angst, is no doubt normal in those who are dying in miserable circumstances; and, second, even if a patient is manifesting symptoms of depression, it does not follow (a) that the patient should be required to undergo treatment (since treatment is optional and can be refused under common law); and (b) there is no evidence that depression impairs judgement. There is, in addition, no evidence whatever that depression affects people in the ways suggested by Schadenberg, making those who are depressed by the circumstances of their dying especially vulnerable to being abused. This is simply an unsubstantiated assumption.

Schadenberg, along with many other opponents of assisted dying, continue to claim that the statistics out of the Netherlands and Belgium show that laws governing assisted dying are being abused, because, in some cases, especially in those cases where people are very near death, and the trajectory of their disease turns suddenly and unexpectedly for the worse, people who are in misery are being helped to die without their explicit consent at the time that assistance is given. However, it is important to notice a number of things. In many of these cases, large doses of opiates are used to relieve pain and distress. There is some question whether or not these are cases of euthanasia, although they are apparently considered to be euthanasia for the purposes of the studies that have been conducted. In most cases, doctors had earlier consulted patients about their desire to be helped in such circumstances; in other cases, family members were consulted; and in still other cases (there being  some overlap between these different scenarios) other physicians were independently consulted. And still we have no knowledge whatever about the number of  patients in Canada who are being helped to die, notwithstanding the law which criminalises such assistance. Schadenberg’s claims are empty, and without substance. All that is necessary for Schadenberg is the appearance of dubious practice, and he thinks he has an ironclad case against assisted dying, but, in general, all he has shown is that, while some cases are not reported in the Netherlands and Belgium, in many of these cases there are good explanations why they are not reported (because they were not thought of as euthanasia by the doctors who used opiates to control pain whose secondary effect may have been to hasten death), and when they are studied there is no evidence of negligence or of putting patients unnecessarily at risk, and no evidence at all that the so-called “vulnerable” are chiefly at risk.

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This post was original published on 15 January 2011

Today I’m going to get right up close and personal, and say some things that I’ve wanted to say for several years. After I had come back from Switzerland, where my wife Elizabeth was helped to die, and her ashes had been buried amidst a wonderful celebration of her life, the news media and the so-called “pro-life” movement got wind of what she had done. At the behest of the Euthanasia Prevention Coalition (an arm of the Roman Catholic death culture), I was investigated by the RCMP Major Crimes Unsit, and then the most rabid of the “pro-life” commentators got to work to dissect what they thought it all meant. And of course, they saw devils everywhere.

One of these commentators was Wesley J. Smith, described by Wikepedia as a “Senior Fellow in Human Rights and Bioethics at the Discovery Institute”. His report, still available on his blog “Second-hand Smoke”, as I discovered recently (the blog in the meantime having been moved to the conservative Catholic journal First Things), was published two days after we had buried Elizabeth’s ashes, and had remembered her big heart, her courage and her joy in life, dismisses Elizabeth as a “Suicide Tourist.” In truth, she was an exile, not a tourist, exiled to die in a foreign land, because of religious fanatics just like Smith, whose stock in trade is fear-mongering and lies.

We’ll come to the lies in a moment, but it is worthwhile mentioning that, had Elizabeth known, from the start, that, at the end, when life had become unbearable to her, she would have been able to receive assistance in dying, she might have lived much longer. She would not have had to worry about how it would end, whether she would have the courage to take her own life, furtively, all alone, whether it would work, whether she would involve anyone else in an act which she had had in mind from very early on in the course of her illness. She had known others with very severe primary progressive MS, so she knew, almost from the start, what was in store for her. Who knows how much the stress of knowing that she would eventually be completely paralysed and unable to speak, and knowing that she was not entirely free to choose, contributed to the severity of her MS? And then, of course, being forced to flee, as she saw it, into exile in order to die, she had to leave when she was still able to travel, and so she died before she would have done had she been free to die in her own home, in her own country.

The Roman Catholic death cult simply doesn’t understand. Here’s an example. Margaret Somerville is a bioethicist (at least she pretends to be) at McGill University in Montreal, and a stern opponent of assisted dying. A phone-in CBC radio programme shortly after Elizabeth died took as a topic whether the refusal to allow assisted dying forced people to die earlier than they would if assisted dying were legalised. The conversation wandered aimlessly for awhile until someone phoned in and said, “Aren’t you missing the point? Mrs. MacDonald died earlier than she would have, if she had been able to do here what she could do legally in Switzerland.” Margaret Somerville’s response was immediate and uncomprehending. “Well,” she said, “if she wanted to die, I don’t know why she would wait!” This is the problem when we allow people to make choices for others, especially religious fanatics like Somerville. They simply do not understand. Why should someone whose understanding of what people seeking assisted dying really want is limited to a few catch phrases and predigested dogmas, get to make decisions for such people?

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This post was first published 4 December 2010 – once again, for Jerry Coyne’s convenience.

Deep within religious opposition to assistance in dying — which the religious almost always persist in calling, simply, killing — is the fear of chaos. This is, I believe, the chief reason for religious opposition to assisted dying, but it is never, or almost never, used as a public argument against assisted dying. However, it is always lurking in the background, as, in a sense, the ground upon which all the arguments that are used come to rest.

Chaos plays a crucial role in biblical understandings of the world. In Genesis God is said to bring order out of chaos. In the first chapter the spirit of God hovers over the deep chaos at the beginning, and then begins to assign everything a place. But later we are told that God regretted having created the earth, and was determined to make an end of all flesh, because the earth is filled with violence because of them (Gen 6.13)

The description of the great flood that follows shows the chaos returning again as the waters above and below the earth, instead of staying in their assigned places, break through into the ordered creation that God had made. It is often forgotten in retelling the story how horribly vicious it really is. Popular pictures of the flood and the ark show cute giraffes and other animals sticking their heads out, almost as though it were a holiday outing. Very few pictures show the carnage that would have resulted. Of course, Noah and the animals in their ark float above the chaos, a small fragile hope of the order that will return if God relents, and restores order upon the chaos once again.

(Note here that God uses chaos as punishment. This being the case, it should occasion no surprise that, in response to Adam and Eve’s disobedience, by eating of the forbidden fruit of the knowledge of good and evil, God punishes them with suffering and death. Both suffering and death, in the Bible, are close analogs of chaos itself. Jesus shows this, for example, by walking on water. Conquering the chaos of the deep is the same as surviving death, which — at any rate in the story — he goes on to do.)

One might well think that, as the cause of this chaos, by withholding his sustaining power from the order of creation, God is not entirely to be trusted. And if God was distressed by the violence into which his creation had degenerated, is it not strange to think that violence should be the answer? Is it not contradictory to show God raging with such fierce anger and destruction? Of course, the outcome is foreordained, just like in the movies, and, indeed, later, after all the brutal carnage and destruction, we know that the storied God will restore creation to order once again. He must, because we’re here, after all, aren’t we? We know the canons of storytelling too well, so we scarcely notice the horrendous cruelty and savagery of God’s condemnation, and the horrors and atrocities that ensued. We already know about God’s promises. There’s no point to the story otherwise. So, we already know that, after the cataclysm of the flood, God must make things right again. God does this by making a covenant with his creation that such disaster will never befall the earth again. In a saccharine moment God even places a rainbow in the sky as a sign of the “… everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth.” (Gen 9.16)

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Choice in Dying has Ended

Posted: 28 October 2013 in Uncategorized

Thanks to all who followed over the last couple of years… almost three, but I have decided to close up shop.