For all my talk of skepticism, I really like the idea of aliens visiting Earth, Bigfoot roaming forests, and Chupa-thingy eating cows or whatever. Whenever one of these shows hits TV, I'll pretty much always tune in. Two nights ago was the first time this started to bother me. The thesis of this show was that aliens have visited Earth in the past with fantastic technologies, were worshiped as gods, then left and are remembered only through cryptic, dubious "evidence."
There are enormous figures carved into a plateau in Nazca, Peru (Nazca Lines) that can only be seen from the air...an impossibility until fairly recently. There are Maya carvings that show something that looks kinda like a modern rocket. Construction of the Great Pyramid was, of course, aided by extraterrestrials. Even the great Incan city of Cusco must have had the help of super-advanced visitors, else how could they erect their super precise walls?--it's a perfect fit with no mortar!
Are our egos so fragile that so many must simply reject the notion that ancient people were smart? Just because we were unable to do something until recently (if at all) doesn't mean others couldn't figure it out. I have it on good authority that I'm a pretty smart guy (I test well anyway) but I've known plenty of people who are way better in any number of things than I am. Some people just understand machines. Some people read music like I read a book. Some can even do serious math in their heads just because the numbers make sense. Why is it so difficult to believe that these ancient people were just really good at what they did?
The how of the Nazca Lines seems pretty straightforward--rub something against the ground until a line is made. Such straight lines are apparently impossible to create...and yet, there they are. Mountains were leveled off (I'm willing to believe) without hydraulics. These were people with nothing but time, strong backs, and religious fervor. Such people can quite literally do anything, especially in large numbers. The why really doesn't matter much. Why do I write this blog? I don't really have a compelling reason. I just write. People needn't always have reasons for what they do.
The Maya carving is probably a pretty serious case of a self-fulfilling prophecy. The people who see a shuttle launch in this slab are the same sorts who go into Maya ruins looking specifically for evidence of aliens. When someone like this goes into ruins and finds such evidence, I might be more swayed.
The Great Pyramid is a feat of construction without modern parallel. It's hard to imagine something--anything that massive. There's no doubt in my mind though that it was built by many, many very human hands.
The walls of Cusco are especially impressive to me. I can't even fold a sheet of paper quite in half, but these folks carved rocks with such exactness that I can't fit my paper into the seams. Really impressive. Maybe a bit OCD. Human.
We like to think of ourselves as the top of a ladder. We are the very pinnacle, the culmination of all that came before. Perhaps we're simply the highest branch of a tree. Believing that our ancestors must've been aided by the Greys to have accomplished what we can scarcely imagine diminishes not only their accomplishments, but also how those feats have shaped us. Highest branch or highest rung, it doesn't mean a damn thing without everything that rests below.
As much as I'd like to meet an alien, I'd rather believe in us and our abilities. No creatures have made a bigger impact on this planet than human beings being human. All of our modern accomplishments come from human ingenuity and perseverance. Why can't the same be true for ancient accomplishments?
Monday, April 13, 2009
Friday, April 3, 2009
When in Doubt, Ask a Question
Science has always held a special place in my heart. I like the process. I like the logic. I like the remaining mysteries. Most of all though, I love the inherent skepticism. Having strongly-felt beliefs is all well and good, but it can be dangerous if that blinds one from the truth.
Through a series of lucky Wikipedia searches and inspired podcast searches, I've been exposed to the so-called "Skeptic Movement." The idea seems, at first glance, something like a straw man argument writ large (we don't hear all that much about the "Mindless Believer Movement"), but at a deeper level it appeals to me in ways that I've always felt religion should have.
With the benefit of hindsight, I'm wondering if my increasing distance from the tenets of any specific religion is due to some instinctive skepticism. Why, out of all the places in the universe, would God trouble himself so with the minutiae of everyone's life that we must live in fear of even the slightest transgressions? How can we pursue a path toward Heaven or Hell without knowing the criteria for good or bad? What's the tipping point for damnation? Not everyone can be right; I really like alcohol, pork, and beef--that already pisses off about half the world's population. Adherence to some dogma or another can provide a fairly consistent rubric for morality (though not in all cases), but that's just about as far as its assertions can be stretched.
I'm bothered by our use of the word "cult" when we come across some small, radical group of people with newsworthy beliefs. I've found three interesting definitions for a cult:
1. a group or sect bound together by devotion to or veneration of the same thing, person, ideal, etc.
2. a group having a sacred ideology and a set of rites centering around their sacred symbols
3. a religion or religious sect generally considered to be extremist or false, with its followers often living in an unconventional manner under the guidance of an authoritarian, charismatic leader
Now tell me, what religion, sect, whatever doesn't fall into at least one of these categories. We say cult and mean it as a pejorative, but where's the line? Is it number of members? Is it just familiarity; we're more comfortable with others holding beliefs closest to our own? Is there a substantive difference between a cult and a religion? I truly don't know, but that I need even ask the question casts doubts all its own.
I think it was Karl Marx who referred to religion as an opiate for the masses. That's probably a little cynical, but not as far off the mark as I want it to be. There's very little that should be taken at face value. Asking questions is never harmful; it only feels that way if someone doesn't like the answers. In troubled times, it's all the more important to evaluate one's beliefs. Why is this important to me? Why is this right? Why is this wrong? We should welcome provocative questions, difficult answers.
Holding any belief comes with the implied burden of defending it as best as possible. Holding strong beliefs should come with the responsibility to try and prove it wrong. It is through that process (one remarkably similar to the SOP for any science experiment) that we hone our beliefs and, almost by elimination, prove them right.
I'm not comfortable with the presumably immutable laws of religion. Wars have been waged with the supposed backing of religious laws. Millions of people have been burned, drowned, tortured, oppressed, gassed, and outright murdered for being on the wrong end of that imaginary religious line. It used to be that I could go to Hell for eating meat on Friday or working through Sunday. What's changed? Everything. We are an ever-changing species, and religions adapt with us. I wonder, just how deep does that fluidity go?
Through a series of lucky Wikipedia searches and inspired podcast searches, I've been exposed to the so-called "Skeptic Movement." The idea seems, at first glance, something like a straw man argument writ large (we don't hear all that much about the "Mindless Believer Movement"), but at a deeper level it appeals to me in ways that I've always felt religion should have.
With the benefit of hindsight, I'm wondering if my increasing distance from the tenets of any specific religion is due to some instinctive skepticism. Why, out of all the places in the universe, would God trouble himself so with the minutiae of everyone's life that we must live in fear of even the slightest transgressions? How can we pursue a path toward Heaven or Hell without knowing the criteria for good or bad? What's the tipping point for damnation? Not everyone can be right; I really like alcohol, pork, and beef--that already pisses off about half the world's population. Adherence to some dogma or another can provide a fairly consistent rubric for morality (though not in all cases), but that's just about as far as its assertions can be stretched.
I'm bothered by our use of the word "cult" when we come across some small, radical group of people with newsworthy beliefs. I've found three interesting definitions for a cult:
1. a group or sect bound together by devotion to or veneration of the same thing, person, ideal, etc.
2. a group having a sacred ideology and a set of rites centering around their sacred symbols
3. a religion or religious sect generally considered to be extremist or false, with its followers often living in an unconventional manner under the guidance of an authoritarian, charismatic leader
Now tell me, what religion, sect, whatever doesn't fall into at least one of these categories. We say cult and mean it as a pejorative, but where's the line? Is it number of members? Is it just familiarity; we're more comfortable with others holding beliefs closest to our own? Is there a substantive difference between a cult and a religion? I truly don't know, but that I need even ask the question casts doubts all its own.
I think it was Karl Marx who referred to religion as an opiate for the masses. That's probably a little cynical, but not as far off the mark as I want it to be. There's very little that should be taken at face value. Asking questions is never harmful; it only feels that way if someone doesn't like the answers. In troubled times, it's all the more important to evaluate one's beliefs. Why is this important to me? Why is this right? Why is this wrong? We should welcome provocative questions, difficult answers.
Holding any belief comes with the implied burden of defending it as best as possible. Holding strong beliefs should come with the responsibility to try and prove it wrong. It is through that process (one remarkably similar to the SOP for any science experiment) that we hone our beliefs and, almost by elimination, prove them right.
I'm not comfortable with the presumably immutable laws of religion. Wars have been waged with the supposed backing of religious laws. Millions of people have been burned, drowned, tortured, oppressed, gassed, and outright murdered for being on the wrong end of that imaginary religious line. It used to be that I could go to Hell for eating meat on Friday or working through Sunday. What's changed? Everything. We are an ever-changing species, and religions adapt with us. I wonder, just how deep does that fluidity go?
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