The Enduring Popularity of Aslan’s Country, as a Destination of Travel

Narnia, I think, is quite unique among modern fantasies for being an unashamedly Christian story that enjoys the devotion of an irreligious and unchristian readership. Ardent love for Narnia requires the unchristian reader to resolve a conflict between a Christian story they love and a Christianity they don’t. I’ve searched out threads that deal with this conflict, and have found that the resolution tends to consist in either:

  • Reading around the Christian bits
  • Re-interpreting the Christian bits as life-lessons.

It’s unclear to me what either reading would actually look like, since the author’s Christian worldview is dispensable neither to himself nor to his stories—and so cannot be simply read around. The Silver Chair, for instance, is almost allegorical in its overlaying of the journey of faith onto the literal journey into Underland. It’s probably better to say the journey into Underland is also a journey of faith for Jill and Eustace, which in turn is able to speak (via metaphor) to the Christian journey of faith outside of Narnia. Subtract the stuff about faith and you’re left with an exciting plot, but precious little meaning. Or consider Aslan. If Lewis wrote him to represent the Christian God, what remains of his character when you strip him of anything that sounds too Christian? Read round the Christian bits then, and lose the whole.


The underlying problem with these readings is one common to a good deal of Narnia’s readership (and of which the Christian part is surely most guilty): the assumption that Christianity sits atop Narnia like a layer of oil atop water, like a code. Decipher the code and you can separate the Christian meaning from the story—to be discarded, or to be milked for all it’s worth. Such readings are illiterate and basically wrong, neglecting as they do to consider that Lewis set out to write literature, not code. Literature is written to mean something, and does so by an artistry of narrative and language. The Christian meaning is in the story and isn’t divisible from it, but is focused by every image and scene. Neither, then, does Lewis satisfy his Christianity by proselytising for a few lines before returning to the real story. As with all art, the meaning is integrated into the whole.

In his biography of Lewis, Alister McGrath makes a valuable distinction between Lewis’s apologetic writing and his fiction:

‘Lewis’s remarkable achievement in the Chronicles of Narnia is to allow his readers to inhabit this [Christian] metanarrative—to get inside the [Christian] story, and feel what it is like to be part of it. Mere Christianity allows us to understand Christian ideas; the Narnia stories allow us to step inside and experience the Christian story, and to judge by its ability to make sense of things, and ‘chime in’ with our deepest intuitions about truth, beauty and goodness.‘ – C.S. Lewis, A Life

According to McGrath, a mature Lewis wrote Narnia as a re-telling of the Christian story as a way to allow the Christian story to make a full and striking impression upon the imagination of his readers. It isn’t a re-telling in the sense that the reader ought to be able to spot Abraham and Christ and Moses. Narnia is the story of how the Christian God may have dealt with another world of his making in a way that reflects his character and behaviour, as known to us through his actions in our world. When you look at it this way, Narnia isn’t an allegory at all. It is instead an imaginative world in which the whole narrative has a thematic, theological meaning, all intended to beautifully illustrate what the Christian story and the Christian life are like. To take just one example of possible hundreds, Eustace’s transformation into a dragon is a reflection on the human condition of sin. He chooses selfishness at every opportunity, and his whole being eventually contorts as a result, manifesting it in his transformation into a dragon atop its hoard. He begins to understand his sin and to bitterly regret it—but the transformation has occurred, and he can’t do anything about it. The God of Narnia must intervene, painfully and tenderly, to heal him and set him back on the path towards life rather than death. If you subtract the Christianity out of all that, you get a story about a selfish boy who becomes a dragon, is sorry, is set right by a magical lion, and becomes a reformed character. If you try to make it a life-lesson, you may learn that it is bad to be selfish. But only the narrative wedded to its essentially Christian meaning is beautiful.


To all this, I came across the objection that it is possible to ‘enjoy the view without buying the house,’ i.e. if Narnia is a Christian re-telling, it’s possible to appreciate its essentially Christian beauty without taking up, or being convinced by, the Christian faith. And I think that’s pretty much true and essentially reasonable, if I may add to it a caveat.

Everything Lewis wrote in Narnia he believed to be true, and beautiful only because it was true. Lewis believed that all nature would be reconciled under its true King; Lewis believed in Aslan’s Country where the dead are young again; Lewis believed that the only water that can satisfy our thirst is found next to the terrifying paw of the Lion; Lewis believed that belief in the Christian God, in that reality which is truer and more real than the visible one, must be clung to despite the creeping whisper of despair and nihilism. Lewis believed that Peter’s decency, Puddleglum’s courage and Lucy’s faith were all true expressions of the Christian life and responses to the Christian story as ardently believed; that heroic knighthood, love for nature and also the prohibition on females fighting alongside males (even if we may disagree with him on that part) were part of the beautiful whole of the Christian tapestry. Everything attractive in Narnia, Lewis poured into it from his understanding of Christianity, and the only reason Aslan is attractive is that Lewis wrote him to reflect the character of the Christian God. To love Narnia is to be captivated by the Christian vision—only dressed a little differently.

The atheist may love Narnia and reject its worldview as I may a story written by a devotee of scientism. I may reject such a story as a beautiful myth and love it all the same. I may consider it to have failed its duty of true-telling, but I will not be able to reject it on the grounds of ugliness. The atheist may indeed ‘enjoy the view without buying the house,’ but such a view is only consistent if they can do the same with the story of Jesus of Nazareth. The atheist who loves Narnia has been convinced that Christianity is beautiful and that its God is beautiful, and beauty is next-door to truth. The only fallback that remains is an appeal to scientific claims that disqualify God from existence, held tightly against the hot breath and the earthquake-purr of the Great Lion.

Covenants of Old

One of the founding principles of Susanna Clarke’s mythological worldview, borrowed from Inkling Owen Barfield[1] and treated explicitly in her recent book Piranesi, is the idea that the ancients had a substantial, personal connection to the land they inhabited – a covenant which has been transgressed and forgotten since the industrial era. Magic in Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell stems from the alliances John Uskglass, the Raven King, once made with the land (i.e. the hills and trees and rivers) of England. Piranesi is set in what is almost the present day, at which point this magic of the natural has flowed out of the world completely, though some work towards its recovery.

In the venerable Inkling tradition, Jonathan Strange is Clarke’s attempt to write a folklore back into England’s past. The academic depth of her alternate history of magic, the vivid character of Fairie and its inhabitants, and the mystique of the North’s golden age of independence under the Raven King – all these attest to her mighty success in that project. Like those of Tolkien and Lewis, Clarke’s myth is also a messianic one: her characters secretly and ardently desire to restore the past order to modern England, and we are caught up with them in fervent hope for the return of John Uskglass whose reappearance will re-open the old roads to Fairie, and bring the trees and stones to remembrance of their old alliances, and bring English magic bursting once more into its summer bloom. This is the culmination of Clarke’s messianic hope: the return to a lost ideal state of communion between humanity and nature. We get only a taste of what that might look like in Jonathan Strange when Stephen Black becomes suddenly privy to the alliances the Raven King has made with nature, and the rocks and hills help him vanquish his foe. This is the climax of the book, a prophecy fulfilled – but alas!, it does not last. A new order is not ushered in; nature discovers Stephen for an impostor; the moment of consummation recedes. It’s a disappointing end to the reader’s inflamed hope: we hold our breath for the Raven King’s return, only for it to be brief, and of little consequence; we anxiously await the outcome of Vinculus’s prophecy, only to find it’s fulfilment in a brief moment, in a rather technical way.

To my mind, Susanna Clarke brings us to the very threshold of the new creation, and can’t but hesitate long enough for the door to close. This, I think, is completely understandable. How can the author hail a changed world when the world around us remains unchanged? To do so would send her readers blinking back out into the harsh daylight of modern life. I think Clarke would prefer we look with fresh eyes on the world around us, to renew our own covenants with the grey skies and with the stones, rather than to be blinded by utopia. In Jonathan Strange, then, the messianic hope for new creation can’t be other than deferred.

The Christian reader of fantasy is, however, accustomed to reading stories in which prophecies of the world’s renewal can be fulfilled, and Clarke’s predecesors, Tolkien and Lewis, were able to tell them because they believed their myths were, in the deepest sense, true. Lewis believed Aslan would appear to set things right at the Last Battle, just as Tolkien believed the rightful King would return to rule the kingdoms of Man. Each spoke of a renewed covenant between humanity and nature because they believed it would come to pass when all things were reconciled in Christ. Neither had any compunction about ending their fantasies in the gloriously perfected future because they intended such a vision to spark a secret and fervent hope in the reader, and because they believed that such a future is present now in seedform – that people can participate in the renewed covenant even now. We can’t know how Clarke intended her story to end, since her unfinished sequel languishes in the tangle worked by her illness.[2] She may indeed want to conclude the story with the restoration of nature and magic. For now, Jonathan Strange ends with a definite emphasis on personal change in an unchanged world: the King’s quiet return seems to leave the promises unfulfilled, but the people caught up in that pivotal event have been flung outwards into their own story arcs, changed, proclaiming that change to others. Perhaps its ending is less of a hesitation and more a mirroring of the biblical story.


Clarke has spoken about how her Christian faith has been rekindled as she suffered under her illness in the sixteen-odd years between her two novels.[1] Piranesi certainly contains more of an explicit theism than does Jonathan Strange, whose influence succeeds in resolving some of tensions left unresolved in her debut novel. If Clarke’s ideal is the restoration of the relationship between humanity and nature, then Piranesi (the character) is the living embodiment of this new covenant. Due to his long-term imprisonment in the Distributary World he calls the House, which has been made by the outflow of magic from our world, Piranesi has of necessity developed a firsthand relationship of dependency with the elements, which have become to him companionable, and personal. Through long exposure, Piranesi has come to recognise a kind of personhood in every inhabitant of the House (from statues to birds to the flowing waters): they are his friends; he knows their tendencies; he communes with them. This companionship is not the same as a mutual communion between two people, nor is it as fulfilling. Nor, I think, does it stray into pantheism since it works to attune Piranesi to discern the hand of a benevolent creator in the events of his life. Though his beliefs about the House are often mistaken, he is grateful to the House for sustaining him and for populating his world with good things for his benefit. The House is not just benevolent, but active in the care it takes for its inhabitants. He expresses praise for the House, and develops his own kind of ritual religion of upkeep. When all his other identities are stripped from him by others, he identifies ultimately and only as the Beloved Child of the House.

It’s important to note the radical change of emphasis from Jonathan Strange to Piranesi. The latter does not lean upon the messianism of the former to reconstitute the relationship between nature and humanity. Piranesi’s messianics are actually the villains of the novel, deplorables like Laurence Arne-Sayles and Valentine Ketterley who intend to bring the wisdom of the ancients to modern England and usher in a new age of mankind in order to bolster their own reputations and occult powers. These men are like Tolkien’s villains, attempting only to control nature and magic and ending only with violence and death – they make the House nothing but a prison and a tomb. Piranesi couldn’t be more different. He’s a holy fool who, by losing himself in it, is able to see the House’s beauty. He is able to wonder at it, and so to discover the wisdom of the ancients – which, it turns out, is not power, but casual communion with a good world and with the creator who provides it.

Importantly, at the end of the book, Piranesi is able to bring the House’s wisdom into our world, the modern world. In his final entry, Piranesi looks around a park in the city, recognising virtue in an old man and some children from similar statues he has known in the House. He ends by describing a fairly barren, unremarkable scene:

‘I came out of the park. The city streets rose up around me. There was a hotel with a courtyard with metal tables and chairs for people to sit in more clement weather. Today they were snow-strewn and forlorn. A lattice of wire was strung across the courtyard. Paper lanterns were hanging from the wires, spheres of vivid orange that blew and trembled in the snow and the thin wind; the sea-grey clouds raced across the sky and the orange lanterns shivered against them.

The Beauty of the House is immeasurable; its Kindness infinite.’

In this remarkable ending, Piranesi is clear that there isn’t much to recommend this city: it is forlorn and freezing cold; it is not obviously beautiful. Even still, Piranesi has learnt a deep knowledge, a deep wisdom in the House: that life, that sheer existence is beautiful; that the world is a generous and well-intentioned gift, for those with eyes to see it as such.


Both Jonathan Strange and Piranesi long for the renewed communion of humanity with nature. Jonathan Strange prophesies a transformed world, but ultimately fails to realise it. In Piranesi, Clarke shows us that this ideal can be recaptured by individuals, chiefly by the act of losing oneself in the natural/magical world. Piranesi visits another world to understand the beauty and wonder of this one, to learn the goodness of its creator. As he returns to our world, he does so changed. And the world is changed around him, made alive, personalised, animated – which, for Clarke’s readers, is both the fulfilment of the promise of Jonathan Strange, and also good practical wisdom for living in a world yet unchanged.


[1] https://www.churchtimes.co.uk/articles/2020/11-december/features/features/susanna-clarke-rescued-by-faith-and-strictly

[2] https://www.theguardian.com/books/2020/sep/12/susanna-clarke-i-was-cut-off-from-the-world-bound-in-one-place-by-illness

The Good Ship Progress

The rest of the world and I are growing apart. It’s like being a raft, drifting for a while in the pull of a great steamliner – now separated by the widening waters, watching the other cut its path ever onwards through great waves, making Progress.

For the longest while I thought we all shared a vessel, and I had only lazy half-thoughts about our bearing, presuming the wind to be in our sail. Now I realise that some are locked full ahead, and I see the watery expanse opening up between us as I become ever more sceptical about the navigatory logic which derived their setting.

In coming to discuss morality in politics and law, I hold up two hands. In one rests the idea that people are accountable to God for the extent to which they live within his definition of what is good and right. In the other, the idea that people ought not to be prevented from doing whatever on earth they want to do, so long as it doesn’t cause harm to others. You may detect a potential for discord.

Hand the First: Colours to Mast

Uncurl my fingers and peer at the idea nestling within: God is the comprehensive reality. He has brought reality into being, and ordered it. God has the only canon definition of what is good and of what is ungood, and this applies to everyone and everything.

Consider for a moment that belief in this God, the LORD, is belief in a Creator who cares about right and wrong, who is passionately committed to upholding the oppressed and the lowly, and to reversing the fortunes of the downtrodden. I believe in this God who has made firm purpose to bring about the end of all injustice and to bring low those who perpetuate oppression and wrongness. I believe in a God who has enough compassion to walk among us and be moved, and to spend himself in the service of those who need him – binding wounds, embracing the excluded, bringing satisfaction to the drifting soul. I believe in this God who gave himself to his executioners as our substitute, and who was raised from the dead to show us that there is hope for one day being gloriously, truly fixed.1

And so, as a direct consequence, I believe in the importance of striving to improve the lives of others, to ensure just societal systems which look after those who have less, and to ensure that all people are able to live their lives as much as possible without the interpolation of harm.

Goodwill towards men is only half the picture. I believe in the importance of living however this God requires me to live, in the beauty of the morality which Jesus exemplifies, and of striving to meet his standard of what is good and just and right. That includes seeing every life as a particular, significant, sacred creation, every body as a dignified, holy space, intentionally set apart for God – to experience his presence within and without. If this is what my body is, then it matters what I do with it. I hold sex as sacred – a holy rite of marriage. I hold marriage as sacred – a holy duty of love to help us understand how Christ loves his bride, and how we should love Christ in return. I hold all life as sacred – all people as valuable, worth helping and protecting. These beliefs are core to me, even as my behaviour frequently falls far short of the standard they anticipate (thus, the Gospel).2

Hand the Second: the Liberal Yang

A moral way of living exists, and it places the same demands on me as on you.

But it’s also important for me to recognise that not everyone believes that. Many people don’t believe in my God, for one. Many people don’t believe that a universal moral legislation exists. Probably many today would stare blankly at the notion of holiness or of the sacred. A relatively negligible slice of the planetary population (i.e. the Church) agree a core morality, hold other issues with a looser grasp, and differentiate their moral formulations by nuance.

It follows, therefore, that not everyone ought to be legally/societally accountable to the moral standard I believe exists. See now centred in my second palm a liberal yang to the moral yin: if you don’t accept the demands of Jesus on your life, if you honestly don’t consider your body to be sacred, why should you be prevented from living in whatever manner you choose?

Of course, this does not negate the existence of such a transcendent moral standard, nor does it mean that one can escape the consequences of rejecting God and choosing what is unholy over what is holy. God’s Way is not morally relative. But since human law is to uphold justice for all folk alike, it ought not to enforce legal accountability on people for the beliefs of some. Living according to God’s standard ought to only be undertaken by those who have signed up to live as subjects of his Kingdom, and ought only to be enforced within the Church.

These two hands flow around each other, a yin and a yang, a horrific mixed metaphor, a perfect sphere with just a little bit of friction – causing the whole thing to judder embarrassedly every so often.

In real life, holding the yin and the yang most frequently manifests in a silent, unobserved choice to live in a way different from those around me (i.e. intoxication, sex outside of marriage). Occasionally it manifests in a vote (i.e. advocating for legally allowing people (who are outside the Church) to do what they want to do with their bodies).

Meanwhile, the Republic of Ireland holds a referendum to see its Constitution’s 8th Amendment repealed, revoking legal provision for a foetus to be recognised as having a right to life equal to that of its mother.

Rhetoric hurtles and spatters and eats away at lampposts.

The yang judders.

The hand-sphere wobbles inelegantly.

Frictionful are the times.


A Dichotomy of Rights

The pro-abortion rhetoric of ‘just a clump of cells’ that I was taught about in school was conspicuously absent in the ROI referendum campaign; the rhetoric of ‘an unwanted intruder in my sovereign bodily territory’ was much more common.3 If the foetus is seen as a trespasser within the sovereign territory of a person’s body, then we’re thinking in terms of a dichotomy between the preferences, goals and rights of woman and those of foetus. Where there is a dichotomy of rights, there are two sides of a story. When it comes to abortion, it seems that only one side of that story is worth talking about. It seems as though large swathes of populations decide, in a way that makes out as though it is morally obvious, that a woman’s right to autonomy is far more significant than a foetus’ right to life, that bodily autonomy is the prime moral good.

What I’m wondering: why is this crusadeable upon? How come this approach to abortion has become so obvious that it’s now a moral imperative? It seems far from obvious to me. Rather, it seems to me a bizarre subversion of typical morality, in which the right to autonomy acquires a greater emotive pull than the right to life. From whence comes the righteous zeal, the indignation, the contemptuous-obviosity which blinds large numbers of people to the complexity of a contentious moral issue?

A Complete Capacity for Self-Actualisation requires Abortion, or An Unwieldy but Functional Subheading

Here in the West, the spirit of the age whispers in our ear that a meaningful life is attained by self-actualisation through individual expression. Anything that hinders the pursuit of this goal is repressive and regressive, and ought to be cut out.

If self-actualisation is prime, it is achieved by self-assertion, and ruthlessly. If we are to be fulfilled, we need to achieve a perfect unity of what is true on the inside with what is true on the outside. We need to enact ourselves, an enterprise which is thoroughly self-oriented, and inevitably locks us in competition with one another.4

A particularly odious manifestation of this is in the modern relationship. Love is lost as relationships become about the continued propagation of happiness and pleasure. Once a partner fails to maintain felicity, they can be dropped, fairly.

Another is in the moral superiority of a married person ‘coming out’ as opposed to staying ‘closeted’. The logic here is that living closeted is an evil since it is an untrue representation of the self. It is superior to ‘come out’ (i.e. not just to disclose one’s orientation to one’s spouse, but to leave said spouse in pursuit of other sexual relationships) even if destruction is wrought, because to do otherwise is to live a lie. And so men tear their marriages and families apart for the sake of individual expression, sacrificing the higher good of others, their wellbeing, and communal unity for the gratification of self-oriented desires.

Boil it all for long enough, and it reduces down to this:

if x prevents me from self-actualisation,

then it is within the bounds of appropriate behaviour to ensure x is nullified

Substitute x for pregnancy and we can see how an interminable pregnancy becomes a matter of oppression.

Disallowing pregnancy termination restricts a woman’s right to self-determination in a critical domain of life, making irreversible a transformation which carries irrevocable weight and change. There is a horror in being locked into a nine-month biological morph, followed (most of the time) by a seismic and lifelong personal, social, economic, vocational, etc, shift. To restrict a woman’s right to choose abortion restricts her autonomy to make meaningful self-determinational decisions. A desire to affirm and facilitate such a capacity in law and policy follows naturally. As women have been forbidden from self-determination and autonomy in social domains since time immemorial, we feel compelled on moral grounds to affirm and fight for their right to choose in this most particular of moral subject matters.

But life is growing inside life, and it all gets complicated quickly. Decisions made about one’s own body no longer just implicate the self. The rights and desires of the self come to a hard stop against the needs of another.

This is when things start to boggle.

Usually, the morality of a liberal society is defined by a) not doing harm to others, b) ensuring all are treated fairly, and c) ensuring all are not oppressed.5 With abortion, c has massively overtaken and outweighed a. Concern for oppression totally eclipses concern for harm. One way this manifests is in denying harm altogether (foetuses can’t feel pain, therefore abortion is ok). The other is in the simple prioritisation of adult oppression over foetal harm (a lack of bodily autonomy for an adult is a more grievous loss than a lack of life-potential for a foetus).

The Abortional Crusade for a Self-Actualised Existence

So it becomes a matter of weighing the freedoms and autonomies that an abortion provides against the right of a foetus to be given time to develop into a significant enough life to save.

Many resolve this conflict by exalting the role of easy access to abortion to that of an essential human right. For advocates, abortion can be not just permissible, but a good in and of itself – a body-positive, feminist, throwing-off-the-shackles-of-patriarchal-oppression act. The heavy preference for self-actualisation over all other concerns is manifested in people who ‘love [their] abortion’, for whom abortion is merely a convenient measure lightheartedly taken in order to retain the job they like, avoid a responsibility they feel unready for, and to not be tied to a man they have cooled towards.6

In my opinion, this is how the causal relationship works – abortion is believed to be positive, and then (as a result) abortion is believed to be harmless.

In life generally, we expect our behaviour to be shaped by our beliefs. Oftentimes however, this causal relationship is reversed and our (desired/actual) behaviour moulds the content of the beliefs which (ought to) underpin them. This is, unfortunately for rationality, how our beliefs work most of the time. It’s known as motivated reasoning.7

When logic and argument are constrained by internal pressures to the necessity of arriving at a conclusion which enables the thinker to live the life they want to live without dissonance – this is motivated reasoning. Our embodied existence allows us to nullify any significant intellectual/moral barrier which conflicts with our chosen course of action/belief.

If I am oppressed, then that oppression suddenly becomes endowed with much more moral heft than any concern with harm to an abstract, other, not-self person. What is at stake in abortion for many people is nothing less than the meaning of life itself (i.e. self-actualisation). If pregnancy and parenthood are seen as inhibiting my self-actualisation, then there is a juggernaut of a motivation for me to arrive at a moral conclusion which not only nullifies my objections to abortion, but which affirms my choice to have an abortion as an exercise of sacred bodily autonomy.

The dichotomy of rights makes all of this easier to swallow, and simplifies abortion as a social policy. The woman is inarguably a matured life who has consciousness, feels pain, suffers, and has all the defining criteria of human. The foetus has, at least, fewer of these. Women are capable of being vocal, of organising and protesting, of becoming a political force to be reckoned with, of mobilising a moral crusade in order to legislate for the protection of their rights. Foetuses, obviously, can do none of these things. So if we have to choose between an entity to protect, it makes logic to protect the life that is obviously human in preference over the life that is ambiguously human. It’s also politically and morally expedient to shift from the question of what is true to the question of what is obvious. I suppose this is the foundation upon which has been built the unquestioned moral consensus that the rights of a woman are in all cases superior to the rights of a foetus. And when abortion is an unquestioned moral good, moral consensus becomes moral crusade. Safeguarding foetal rights means denying female rights. The dichotomy deepens.

In this situation, it’s easiest to nullify all concern for harm done to another by logicking away the existence/significance of the existence of that other. It is easy to make oppression the primary concern, and easy to brush harm good and far under the rug.

A Pact with Moral Relativism

My simple contention is that abortion is not a domain in which a right to self-determination ought to be the prime relevant concern.

The barest fact we can assert uncontroversially is that significant debate exists over whether a foetus constitutes a significant enough life to not kill. If so, then supporting a woman’s right to make a personal, subjective determination about whether or not to have an abortion is upholding a fundamentally relativist worldview, where individuals ought to choose (based on subjective, internal criteria) between facts, to decide what is real and true for themselves.

In other issues of life and death, we accept that while a person may make a judgement about the ethics of terminating the life or shortening the life-potential of another, they are held to account by a wider truth – that it may be wrong, and punishable to do so.8

There’s a hypocrisy in being outraged at a post-truth (conservative) political landscape, and then demanding the reification of its underpinning assumptions (truth is intrinsically personal, not external) in order to support a woman’s right to choose. We abhor the dismantling of objective truth and the dismissal of moral imperatives, but demand the inalienable right to define what is good and what is wrong on our own terms, when it comes to something closer to the bone.9

As someone who believes in an external moral reality, I think that promoting a choose-your-own-reality approach is reckless. I think it’s especially irresponsible in this (at-least-maybe) life and death issue. Promoting such an approach in a context in which the decision makers (women) are in situations which often provide motivation for them to decide the ethical quandary in a particular, materially favourable way is irresponsibiler still.

Just as the morality of men towards sexual coercion fluctuates when aroused10, so too may the morality of women bend when facing down massively life-changing life changes, and a path to mitigate them. This is not the controlled environment in which we would like to find ourselves when deciding what constitutes life and death.

The Crooked Path

You’ll have picked up by now that I think abortion ought not to be considered an obvious and unalienable human right, nor an unambiguous social good. One of my reasons why is that abortion-on-demand seems to stem from this preoccupation with the concerns of the self over the concerns of the other. It says, in essence, ‘My right to the life I want is greater than your right to a significant existence’.

To me, this is not a mark of social progress, but a manifestation of what is wrong with our petty species. The natural condition of people is to perceive from a prior occupation with the self, since all of our moralities are refracted first through the prism of the self.

This is opposite to the moral ideal. The good and true and right way to live is to give ourselves up for one another. The true and new human way is to lay down the self for the sake of others.

We find this beautiful, when we are in a position to be honest with the truth. Literature is full of the ache of the heart at the glimpse of the beauty of a person dying or living for the sake of another. It’s beautiful too in marriage – where we continually choose to prefer the other in all decisions, to step outside of the matrix of self-oriented decision-making, to give up career trajectories and experiences and parts of who we are to better love another person.

This is the trail blazed most beautifully by Jesus. To be God Himself, who spoke reality into existence, and then to come to live among us as a tradesman, to wash feet, to be hated and mocked and tortured and executed by the talking ape-monkeys, all because he loves us with a burning love, he delights in us, and wants to wash us clean of our filth and bring us tenderly to him. Jesus chose to act and teach and live in ways that limited himself, harmed his interests, destroyed his life, for the sake of those who hated him.11

This is the peculiar glory of God. It is achingly beautiful, and that beauty is reflected in self-binding, a splendid mirror of Christ our LORD. Our fatal condition is that the massive bulk of the self utterly eclipses it.

So, yes – for the Christian this means laying down one’s life for the life of a child. And for the non-pregnant Christian, how much more should we lay down our lives for the lives of women in difficulty and crisis, and for children? This means mobilising the resources and the love of the Church to a) extend non-judgemental compassion to women, b) provide for them, help them so that they are economically, socially, emotionally, etc, capable of raising a child. The Church, I think, needs to become more feminist – by ensuring that women don’t carry all of the burden of pregnancy by reason of their biology. Let this be our response to the beauty, the glory, and the grace of our LORD.


Liberal Yang Rising

In the spirit of not imposing minority religio-ethical beliefs, it is surely right to make provision for abortion in (at least) limited cases. In Northern Ireland, the highly particular beliefs of a non-majority prevent women from accessing abortions for reasons which aren’t ambiguously moralled (e.g. where the child will be born without an essential body part, as so is certain not to survive).

Arguing from the minimal case, if abortion at least raises significant moral concerns among a significant portion of people, societies ought to be cautious with it. We can all concede that it is at least arguable (evidenced by the existence of argument) that abortions oppose the safeguarding of vulnerable lives. In an ambiguous ethical dilemma, we surely ought to enshrine protection for these lives rather than extending more bodily autonomy to adults (in a case in which these may be mutually exclusive, and in which we are being cautious).

I think this is a pretty okay case for abortions to not be normalised as a typical healthcare procedure and so taken lightly, and for abortions to not be available on demand for any reason, despite these foundations in a God-centric worldview.

Consensus on Abortion is not Consensus on Ideology

So the questions become: is it irresponsible to liberalise abortion policy where this significant debate still persists? Oh, and does significant debate still persist?

When it comes to Ireland’s Referendum, the Yes vote was received as a moral victory for Ireland, a triumph for Progressivism’s continuing conquest over regressive, backwards attitudes.

The facts about why people voted Yes remain, as ever, under the fog of political bias. I’ve heard (from sources who believe freely available abortion is a moral imperative and a human right) that 70-something% of people voted Yes because they believed that women have a right to choose whether or not to have an abortion. I’ve also heard (from sources who believe that abortion is morally wrong) that 48% of people voted Yes because they wanted Irish women to be able to have abortions in the so-called ‘hard cases’ (i.e. rape and pregnancies in which the foetus is not likely to survive outside the womb).

Whatever the truth may be, the referendum result was taken to signify that an overwhelming majority of Irish people believed that abortion ought to be freely available to all women, for any reason. While the referendum surely demonstrated that an overwhelming majority of Irish people believed that abortion ought to be legalised, it did not demonstrate that the overwhelming majority of Irish people held to one particular moral ideology.

But anyway, a vote to legalise abortion was conflated with a vote to affirm that free access to abortion for any reason is a moral imperative and a human right. Which means, under this worldview, that a vote to legalise abortion was a referendum on whether Irish people like women, trust women, value women as part of society.12 The Irish government embraced it in this way, as did the hashtagliberalfakenewsmedia.13

We have arrived, friends, at my real and true beef: the moral triumphalism at the heart of the Progress narrative.

(The ships are a metaphor)

The great steamliner I have detached myself from is the good ship Progress. On board, a story is told about the exploits of the brave heroes Science and Liberalism, who mercilessly conquer, slay and generally have done with the savage cults of Regressivism and Superstition. Our heroes are waging a successful campaign, slowly transforming the West into a better place to live, a more tolerant, individual, free society. Science and Liberalism open the minds of the people in their fair star-spangled country, who consequently become Enlightened and finally do away with their base religious thinking and all that nasty backwards moral stuff, and at last recognise that the perfection of our species is within our grasp – a powerful, relativist utopia in which everyone gets to do whatever they want and self-actualise and achieve perfect, satisfied, self-fulfilment. Every time the story is told, the people on board cheer heartily, and sing wistfully for the consolation of their Utopia.

I think the good ship Progress is not going further, farther, upwards, onwards – it’s just going. It is like, as Dostoyevsky once said, the building of a crystal palace – a hopeless, groundless dream of a pure society of perfect tolerance, perfect pluralism and unhindered individual expression. Not only is it unattainable, but it is an endeavour riddled with sin from start to finish – not because tolerance and individual expression aren’t good, but because we have made them, in service to self, the primary good. Our grandest designs are for a glorious new Babylon shaking its fist at God, built and pursued from behind the blindfold of self-absorption.

We need wisdom to recognise with the Ancients before us that humankind is blighted by an unassailable bent towards nothing good. When we put self first, toxic pride and injustice and destruction follow after.

This human condition of ours places Isles of Enchantment in the encircling seas of human capacity. Valinor exists, but the horizon has been rounded. We will not reach it by force of will, or technological might, or the spread of liberal enlightenment.

An enhanced capacity to indulge our self-orientism will neither satisfy nor heal us. It will leave us dry and empty. Self-binding love is the way that satisfies – not for its own sake, but following after the God who bound himself beautifully for us.

If Jesus had taught in our age, he might well have paraphrased himself thusly, ‘Whoever wants to save their bodily autonomy will lose it, but whoever loses their bodily autonomy for my sake will find it’.


Note on references: Where I use scientific theories or principles, I am often applying a principle to a situation by reasoning and imagination. Please feel free to consider everything which does not have a reference attached to be opinion, or informed opinion.

References:

1: For God’s passion for justice and his demands on us for justice, see Deuteronomy 16:20, Isaiah 1:17, Amos 5, 1 John 3:17-18, James 1:27. For Jesus exemplifying this, see Isaiah 53, Luke, 11:39-42, Luke 14: 15-24. For justice as a theme running through Scripture, see The Bible Project’s video, Justice (https://tinyurl.com/y7a4svsv).

2: For God’s demand for his people to be holy, see Romans 12: 1-2, 1 Peter 1:15-16, as well as, y’know, the entirety of Hebrew Scripture.

3: I’d recommend a BBC documentary called ‘The Fight for Women’s Bodies’ (https://tinyurl.com/y7wo7fac) and subsequent article (https://tinyurl.com/y8zvkqgk) – pay attention to the language which surrounds the abortion debate. Also ‘Yes’ campaign websites are useful here (e.g. My Body My Choice, found at https://tinyurl.com/yb272q6l), though they don’t contain pictures of all of the rhetoric . Googling for posters/social media posts is a good idea.

4: For the role of self in the West and a discussion of issues surrounding post-modern culture’s interaction with the idea of God, see The Great Mystery, (McGrath, 2017).

5: See The Righteous Mind (Haidt, 2012), and accompanying website (https://www.moralfoundations.org). Also Graham, Haidt & Nosek, 2009 (https://tinyurl.com/nu6p4nm).

6: I’m referencing and quoting from Hadley Freeman’s article published in The Guardian in June 2018 (https://tinyurl.com/y8fphhyg). See also an article published in the same by Eva Wiseman (https://tinyurl.com/jgf2xlq).

7: For a chapter on motivated reasoning, see Ditto, Pizarro & Tannenbaum, 2009 (https://tinyurl.com/ya8f4kc6).

8:  For example, the illegality of euthanasia (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/7698636.stm).

9: I’m talking here about the rhetoric of ‘legalising abortion is trusting women to make their own healthcare decisions’ (e.g. https://tinyurl.com/z9yvfuj).

10: For the highly troubling study in full, see Ariely & Loewenstein, 2006 (https://tinyurl.com/yaqmedwm).

11: For Jesus’ radical selflessness, see Isaiah 53, Romans 5: 6-11, Ephesians 5: 25-30, Philippians 2: 5-11, 1 John 3: 16-18.

12: For example, Fintan O’Toole’s article in The Guardian, published in May 2018 (https://tinyurl.com/yaap5gcl). Here’s a bit of a relevant quote from it, ‘Women, in the intimate circles of family and friends or in the harsh light of TV studios, said: “This is who I am. I am one of you.” And voters responded: “Yes, you are.”’

13: For example, The Guardian’s reporting on the referendum result, opening with the quote, ‘Ireland has voted by a landslide to repeal its near-total ban on abortion, an extraordinary victory for women’s rights that seals the country’s transformation from bastion of religious conservatism to one of Europe’s most tolerant democracies.’ Also Taoiseach Leo Varadkar’s statement is reported within (https://tinyurl.com/y7kcd6y8).

Religious Convergence on a Transcendent God

According to the Dalai Lama, all world religions share in common “a vision of human life that transcends the boundaries of an individual’s physical existence as embodied, finite, and temporal being. A meaningful life, in all faith traditions, is one that is lived with an awareness of a supra-mundane dimension”.

While there are some quibbles to be had with that quote, I think the second part is definitely true. Since the Enlightenment took hold, the mantra of the world has been Materialism – what you see is all there is. All religions (of which I am aware) champion the spiritual realm, and aim to place people in contact with it.

What’s interesting is that the Dalai Lama’s proposition is one palatable to theists and atheists alike. Actually, it’s an argument that plays on prime atheist turf. It goes like this:

All religions are about pursuing the same thing – loosing our earthly shackles. Well sure, that’s because the supernatural is an invention purposed to offer satisfactory answers to the fundamental problem of death. The truth is that life ends, we can’t exist forever, we will die and all our works will be meaningless and forgotten. And so the human race makes comfort for itself out of the fictional offer of immortality. Religions, gods, they are man’s ancient balm for his existential angst.

This argument does some intellectual threat to my believer’s heart. Can I really believe in the objective truth of Christianity in the case of religious convergence? Wouldn’t the historic manufacture of gods be the most sensible and simple solution to this problem?

[launch probe]

Why would religions converge around certain ideas?

Assumption of the modern atheist: God doesn’t exist, therefore any convergence of religions on a given concept is informative only about the insecurities of man which require a specific supernatural balm.

Assumption of (a subdivision of) modern theists: God does exist, therefore a convergence of religions on a concept may be a strong indicator of God’s design for humans. God has designed humans to believe in a spiritual realm because it exists. God has designed humans to believe in an afterlife because it exists. The convergence of all religions around the idea of transcending this mortal life tell us that the spiritual condition of man is such that belief in the capacity to transcend this life is an accurate reflection of the spiritual reality.

“…There is some divine illumination vouchsafed to all men. The Divine light, we are told, ‘lighteneth every man.’ We should, therefore, expect to find in the imagination of great Pagan teachers and myth makers some glimpse of that theme which we believe to be the very plot of the whole cosmic: story – the theme of incarnation, death, and rebirth”.

– CS Lewis

And if there were no convergence?

To quote from a forgotten author: ‘The convergences of religions, their shared underlying dynamics and realities, are important evidence that religion is meaningful. If, at the deepest level, religions were truly different, wouldn’t that be evidence that individual religions were all just following their own made-up trajectories? The deep convergences tell us something about the validity of those truths.’

 


Religious convergence may (to take the atheist’s point) signal a deep need at the heart of humans. Religious convergence may (to take the theist’s point) authenticate a spiritual reality of which we are aware.

More problems arise when we remember that theists are not a homogenous bunch. We complicate things by our belief in gods of varying shapes, dispositions, corporealities, and detachments. Religious convergence was first made convincing to me when reading of the comparable spiritual experiences of Buddhists and Christians – Buddhists who believe, to grossly simplify, in an impersonal ultimate reality, and Christians who believe in a God who is exceptional, distinguished among all other gods.

This God is different from the vague deity invoked at American state occasions. He is not the same as that deity of ill-definition who has created, who affirms unreservedly, and who, like a rubbed lucky coin, is appealed to for success in private, domestic, and foreign policy ventures.

The God who reveals himself to the ancient Jews, and then as Jesus of Nazareth, is a particular person with highly specific character traits. Unlike the gods of the pantheons of old, this God is defined by his constancy – He is that which He is. He is the eternal Creator and Sustainer of all things, and from this authorship comes perfect wisdom and knowledge of his Creation. This God is definitively, constantly faithful – he chooses to work tirelessly for the good of humans, at great personal cost. He is definitively, constantly just, unwilling to let the rapacious actions of humans towards each other and our world go unresolved and unpunished. He is definitively, constantly merciful, choosing to forgive and make reparations for the sins of his people. He is definitively, constantly gracious, giving the free gift of himself, of new life and a renewed creation to the undeserving who trust him. And he is definitively, constantly jealous for the sake of his people, unwilling to tolerate their running after other, inferior gods, cutting themselves off from the source of life and all things.

So here’s the rub:

The convergence of religions on a single, transcendent god is zeroly problematic if you believe in a boundariless god-concept. In this scenario, all religions can offer us their wisdom on how to relate to god, and all of them can be more or less correct, because little is at stake. The convergence of all or many spiritual traditions and religions around a small set of notions would then reveal core truths about that god.

This becomes problematic for belief in the God who features in the Scriptures. This God is unashamedly the only transcendent, ultimate reality. He is Myth become Fact. But he has a highly specific character, and so not all spiritual traditions can be equally correct in their understanding of who He is.

Christians come to know the character of their God as he has revealed it, and must stand apart and say the controversial thing, “I don’t believe in that god, rather the God I believe in is like this”.

There is no reason why Buddhists attempting to commune with the Ultimate Reality might not experience the presence of the one true God, but it is hard to imagine how they could learn about him and draw true conclusions about him. That’s why God has revealed truths about himself in tangible ways – in actions, in Scripture, and finally in a person. He wants to be known. And he has already decided on how he is to be known – through his personal incarnation, Jesus. This is intended not to make himself more exclusive, but to allow us to know him better, authoritatively, personally.

One last quote to close:

“Christian prayer is indeed far more than human instinct. We do not pray as pagans, or even atheists, calling out to an unknown God. Rather we address the one who has taken the initiative, revealed himself, and made promises to us. We don’t strain our voice toward a hypothetical supreme being with cosmic powers, but wonder of all wonders, we pray with confidence to the God we know by name. We pray not as mere theists, monotheists, or even as old-covenant saints, but as those who now know our Father in and through our Lord Jesus. It is almost too astounding to even utter: we know the one to whom we pray, not because of our raw intelligence, advanced education, or painstaking research, but because he has moved toward us, spoken in history, and made himself known to us. And so we address him as Father, and in name of Jesus, with our Bibles open, in response to what he has promised in covenant relationship with us.”

– David Mathis

 

Thoughtlet: The Kafka Lens

Questions: What when evidences present themselves to us which make it difficult to carry on believing in the moral structure of the world? What when tragedy strikes, what when people slaughter and cheat and lie and aren’t punished? When a world we thought to be ordered and moral suddenly presents evidence to the contrary, what then?

These are old questions. When Ancient Jews, who lived a life based on the idea of God’s supreme wisdom, saw the evil living well and the good perishing, they wrote terribly beautiful poetry to try to wrestle the answers out. In the Book of Job, a good man’s life is ruined by God to prove a point. When Job takes his case to God, the answer he gets is kinda unsatisfactory: God is God – He transcends the reality Job knows and can understand. God orders the universe and keeps it all happening, sustaining reality from moment to moment – this God is in a much better position to know what is right and wrong than Job is. Our lot is to realise with awe the wisdom of God, and fall on our faces in submission and humility.

Another option is to call everything absurd and be done with it.

Where we can discern no moral structure, we say it does not exist. Where horrors happen, we say there is no God. Everything is random, or maybe everything is a depraved joke.

It is remarkable to me that a man, chronicling his terminal isolation and existential despair, documents a life and a world which seems to him to be coldly indifferent to him, a life and a world in which moral causation is negated and everything is arbitrary, in which the Schubals of this world are praised by Systems and Structures for oppressing the fair and the kind, in which the fair and kind may not be fair or kind, in which all moral crusades are arbitrary – that this man, documenting this experience, can produce writings which resonate so strongly decades later with a 20th century world mid-crisis-of-faith, reeling from a senseless parade of horrors of its own devising. It is remarkable that such differing experiences can turn men to the same conclusions. The great suffering of loneliness and depression causes Kafka to depict a world without moral causation. Likewise, the witnessing of great suffering causes 20th century man to doubt whether the world has moral causation. And to turn to Kafka as the prophet of absurdity.

A good man’s family is killed, livestock and livelihood destroyed, health taken away. Stalin and Mau murder millions of their citizens. Hitler exterminates millions of Jews. Gregor Samsa wakes to find himself turned into a monstrous cockroach.

Certain questions naturally spring forth: Why? How?

It doesn’t occur to Gregor to ask these questions, a response we find absurd and therefore funny. We are creatures who ask why. But what answers could Gregor hope to acquire? What force capable of transfiguring him into a cockroach as he slept would be comprehensible in essence or motivation to him, the cockroach? Can Job hope to win his day in court against the One who designed his sense of right and wrong?

For Kafka, for the scriptural author, the answers are not accessible. Either they don’t exist, or they are forever beyond our comprehension and experience. Both force us to be reconciled to our place in the universe – as small, limited things – things that question, but aren’t able to divine the grander patterns, the biggest reasons.

For Gregor, and ultimately for Kafka, there is an absurd wisdom in not expecting, or feeling entitled, to understand the answers beyond our realm.

Optimistic Nihilism: The Beautiful Myth

My response to ‘Optimistic Nihilism’, a YouTube video by the channel Kurzgesagt which espouses a philosophy of the same name. Throughout, I’m going to be discussing Optimistic Nihilism as it’s represented by Kurzgesagt; I don’t know if it enjoys an intellectual life beyond the channel. The featured image and all unlabelled quotations are taken from this video, which you can find below.


My argument with Optimistic Nihilism is that it trades intuitive truths about God and life for an attractive humanist fantasy. Optimistic Nihilism distorts the institution of science to justify its metaphysical prejudice against a Creator. It banishes God, embraces complete ethical relativism, and so arrives at some of the worst moral teaching I have ever had the misfortune to clap eyes upon. It falls victim to unqualified faith in the unqualified hubris of the scientific-atheistic worldview in its scramble to allay the fundamental human fear that life is meaningless.

The Logical Error

Here’s Kurzgesagt’s narrative. After our accidental bursting forth into consciousness, the human race grew in knowledge and wisdom. We learnt of the incomprehensible size and scale and age of the cosmos, and we learnt that we aren’t a notable part of it. We learnt that our place in history is brief, that our lives are chance events and that our actions are inconsequential. “We learnt that the twinkling lights are not shining beautifully for us, they just are”.

Do you see the logical bait-and-switch here?

Claim: Gaining scientific knowledge about the universe allows us to infer about its design and intended purpose (or lack thereof).

Within Kurzgesagt’s argument, that sounds like this:

The universe is large and old, therefore human life is without purpose or meaning.

That’s simply not the case. Astronomical knowledge cannot equip us with any relevant insight by which to decide whether or not there is a Creator. Increased knowledge about the natural world has not conferred to us any factual information about the universe’s purpose, or ours. The function of science is to observe observable things, not to infer about non-observable realities from those observations. Learning that the stars are distant balls of gas rather than holes in the cosmic ceiling does not tell us anything about the intended purpose or design of those actual stars. We cannot infer anything new about the value of human life from learning that the universe is vast and ancient. They are unrelated variables.

It irks me that we pretend nihilism is scientific. Kurzgesagt make it seem that as humans develop intellectually, they inevitably come to reject belief in God and accept that the universe is purposeless. That’s not true.

Optimistic Nihilism wants us to believe that we are too mature to believe in God. We are to think that belief in God belongs to a less evolved people. We are to believe wholeheartedly in the human race, who through their scientific method and maturity of thought have achieved insight enough to prove that God is not real and that life is but a beautiful accident. That’s not true either.

The Rejection of Intuition

Here’s the thing. Human beings begin with deep, intuitive notions about life. We know intuitively that our lives are significant, that our actions matter, that there is a right way to live. We act as though that is self-evidently true. We passionately feel that we were made for a purpose. Something in us produces the strongest conviction that a higher reality exists, and our whole being longs to taste it. We are filled to the brim with unearthly longings. On the evidence of every story our species has ever told, we know that the universe was created by a Creator, and with purpose.

People start from a position of belief in Higher Things, and all that that entails. Optimistic Nihilism acknowledges these intuitions, and it rejects them. Kurzgesagt don’t provide a good reason for doing so: they just call God improbable and move on. Which kind of grinds my gears.

Over 70 years ago, C.S. Lewis spoke to this same issue:

“‘Evolution itself,’ [Professor D.M.S. Watson] wrote, ‘is accepted by zoologists not because it has been observed to occur or…can be proved by logically coherent evidence to be true, but because the only alternative, special creation, is clearly incredible.’ Has it come to that? Does the whole vast structure of modern naturalism depend not on positive evidence but simply on an a priori metaphysical prejudice? Was it devised not to get in facts but to keep out God?”

– C.S. Lewis, ‘Is Theology Poetry?’

I understand that scientific atheists today may be unhappy with Watson’s ageing representation of them, but I think the point still stands. It all comes down to a motivated assumption of belief.

Belief in Optimistic Nihilism requires you to oust your innate beliefs, to make a logical leap where scientific evidence cannot assist. The only way to make that leap is by first having a motivation to disbelieve in God. What motivation could suffice for this? We are filled to the brim with unearthly longings, and we are devastated when we can’t find anything with which to fill them. The response of the nihilists is to flee to the fortress of scientific cynicism and call everything foolishness.

The Beautiful Myth

Listen to the narrative entire. I’ll turn again to that old master, C.S. Lewis, to give the myth its full treatment. He weaves the spell better than I ever could. Apologies for the length of the quote, but it’s important to get a sense of the grandeur of the ideas we’re throwing around here.

“The play is preceded by the most austere of all preludes: the infinite void, and matter restlessly moving to bring forth it knows not what. Then, by the millionth millionth chance – what tragic irony – the conditions at one point of space and time bubble up into that tiny fermentation which is the beginning of life. Everything seems to be against the infant hero of our drama – just as everything seems against the youngest son or ill-used stepdaughter at the opening of a fairy-tale. But life somehow wins through. With infinite suffering, against all but insuperable obstacles, it spreads, it breeds, it complicates itself, from the amoeba up to the plant, up to the reptile, up to the mammal. We glance briefly at the age of monsters. Dragons prowl the earth, devour one another, and die…As the weak, tiny spark of life began amidst the huge hostilities of the inanimate, so now again, amidst the beasts that are far larger and stronger than he, there comes forth a little naked, shivering, cowering creature, shuffling, not yet erect, promising nothing, the product of another millionth millionth chance. Yet somehow he thrives. He becomes the Cave Man with his club and his flints, muttering and growling over his enemies’ bones, dragging his screaming mate by her hair (I never could quite make out why), tearing his children to pieces in fierce jealousy till one of them is old enough to tear him, cowering before the horrible gods whom he created in his own image. But these are only growing pains. Wait till the next act. There he is becoming true Man. He learns to master Nature. Science comes and dissipates the superstitions of his infancy. More and more he becomes the controller of his own fate. Passing hastily over the present (for it is a mere nothing by the time scale we are using), you follow him on into the future. See him in the last act, though not the last scene, of this great mystery. A race of demigods now rules the planet — and perhaps more than the planet — for eugenics have made certain that only demigods will be born, and psychoanalysis that none of them shall lose or smirch his divinity, and communism that all which divinity requires shall be ready to their hands. Man has ascended his throne. Henceforward he has nothing to do but to practise virtue, to grow in wisdom, to be happy. And now, mark the final stroke of genius. If the myth stopped at that point, it might be a little pathetic. It would lack the highest grandeur of which human imagination is capable. The last scene reverses all. We have the Twilight of the Gods. All this time, silently, unceasingly, out of all reach of human power, Nature, the old enemy, has been steadily gnawing away. The sun will cool – all suns will cool – the whole universe will run down. Life (every form of life) will be banished, without hope of return, from every inch of infinite space. All ends in nothingness, and “universal darkness covers all.” The pattern of the myth thus becomes one of the noblest we can conceive.’

‘Such a world drama appeals to every part of us. The early struggles of the hero (a theme delightfully doubled, played first by life, and then by man) appeal to our generosity. His future exaltation gives scope to a reasonable optimism, for the tragic close is so very distant that you need not often think of it — we work with millions of years. And the tragic close itself just gives that irony, that grandeur, which calls forth our defiance, and without which all the rest might cloy. There is a beauty in this myth which well deserves better poetic handling than it has yet received; I hope some great genius will yet crystallise it before the incessant stream of philosophic change carries it all away. I am speaking, of course, of the beauty it has whether you believe it or not. There I can speak from experience, for I, who believe less than half of what it tells me about the past, and less than nothing of what it tells me about the future, am deeply moved when I contemplate it. “

– C.S. Lewis, ‘Is Theology Poetry?’

It’s remarkable how little this debate has changed in the last 70 years. The ‘Scientific Outlook’ of Lewis’ day is singing very much from the same hymn sheet as Kurzgesagt.

Kurzgesagt’s account of the past is compelling, and their vision of the future intoxicating. Humanity can do anything and go anywhere, limited only by the scope of our imagination and the cleverness of our hands.

Kurzgesagt’s narrative is convenient for the present. It requires no faith, content to believe in the existence of only that which the eyes can see. It requires no action, content to believe that no ultimate consequences exist. It requires no submission, content to exalt ourselves to godhood and moral authorship.

It’s far better to convince ourselves that talk of God is all childhood foolishness and fairy stories. It’s far easier to swallow the lie and lose ourselves in the fantasy of the self.

The Counter to Existential Dread

Ultimately, Optimistic Nihilism is a response to a fundamental human insecurity: that our lives are meaningless within a purposeless universe. It sedates this fear, unconventionally, by embracing that same purposelessness and meaninglessness. Death is approaching from down the tracks, inevitable, final. We have oblivion to look forward to – all of our experiences, along with all the mistakes we’ve made and bad things we’ve done, will be swept away, poured unceremoniously into the void.

From that, this:

“If our life is the only thing we get to experience, then it’s the only thing that matters. If the universe has no principles, the only principles relevant are the ones we decide on. If the universe has no purpose, then we get to dictate what its purpose is.”

“If this is our one shot at life, there is no reason to not have fun, and to live as happily as possible. Bonus points if you make the lives of other people better. More bonus points if you help build a galactic human empire. Do the things that make you feel good. You get to decide whatever this means for you.”

Take a second with me

Let it sink in

sink

in

… so

Let’s hash it out. The inevitable fact of ultimate human obliteration means we ought to adopt complete ethical relativism. The scale of the universe means each person gets total moral anonymity. Disbelief in an immortal soul or in resurrection means there are no lasting consequences for any of our actions. Disbelief in a Creator means we don’t have to submit to any kind of moral order. We become endowed with godlike authority to live by moral codes of our own devising and second-by-second revising. And unto each of us is bestowed the freedom to totally disregard the idea of moral living altogether.

Subjective Experience is king. If each of us end in obliteration, all moral progress and all moral behaviour is ultimately pointless. In fact, every pursuit is ultimately pointless. Therefore, the only thing left for us nihilists, optimistic or no, is the pursuit of our own happiness above all else. A fresh gospel for our utopia in the stars: accept yourself as you are and do things that make you happy.

Perhaps that sounds utopian to some…?

I’m not going to try to argue for the existence of the spirit or the resurrection of the body, nor the certainty of any sort of eternal consequence for our actions. I’m just going to point out that if we were to actual live out Kurzgesagt’s moral relativist vision, we would each abominate even our own ethical standards. It is so obvious a truth that I barely need to say it: “do the things that make you feel good” is terrible, terrible advice! What makes me feel good is not what is good for me. A four-year-old could tell you this. Bad advice! I repeat, bad advice! Fortunately, people don’t seem to actually live like this, by and large, checking their behaviour only against the goodness of the feeling it produces in them. It must require a great deal of concentration.

Intellectual Humility/Hubris

And so, lastly. Scientific atheism claims to know, solely by virtue of human reasoning, that God does not exist. Nihilism claims to know, solely by virtue of human philosophical insight, that there is no purpose, moral or otherwise, to the universe. Reflecting on our human frailty, isn’t it far wiser to not claim definitive knowledge of these things? Christianity, at least, does not claim to know anything based on what people alone can work out. That seems a bit more realistic to me: it doesn’t require me to decide upon the emptiness of everything on the strength of astronomy.


While I profoundly disagree with their underpinning philosophy, I love the Kurzgesagt channel. It’s like they were tailor made for me – thoughtful commentary on interesting social/sci-fi topics, beautifully packaged. And I am a real sucker for high quality animation. Recently, their videos have carried more atheistic bias, and I would rather that were not so. And it’s downright irresponsible to preach such poor moral advice to such a massive viewership. Even still, I appreciate the time and effort they put into discussion of scientific, and now philosophical, ideas.

Also, I respect how they refused their opportunity to put down any other worldviews in their video. It is fashionable these days to be an atheist who makes fun of faith, but they didn’t. They believe that faith is the mother’s milk of the species, which we are soon to be weaned off. I believe they’re wrong. But we can still be pleasant about it. Hey, they were at least polite in their statement of God’s non-existence.

The Gospel of Trump: America First

“The bible tells us how good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity…When America is united, America is totally unstoppable.”
– President Donald J Trump

(All quotes from the USA Inauguration Ceremony on 21/01/2017).


At Trump’s Inauguration, the nuPresident and co. laid out to us a fresh gospel: that America is favoured by God, and her denizens are piously following some divine national mandate towards ‘greatness’.

Consider the opening quote.

  • First, Psalm 133: “The bible tells us how good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity”.
  • Next, political vision: America should “pursue solidarity” to become “unstoppable”.

Possible interpretations:

  • God likes unity -> being unified will make America (militarily, economically) strong.
  • God’s people live in unity -> America ought to live in unity -> God approves of this -> therefore America will be unstoppable.

The logical rub

If God wants His people (the church) to live in unity, that has absolutely zero logical connection with the strength of America. Let us now give Donald the benefit of the doubt: he’s maybe just stretching the bounds of logic and extolling the universal virtues of unity, all while giving the rhetorical equivalent of a shout-out to his Christian fanbase.

The problem is that in speeches, placement matters. It’s hard to escape the conclusion that by connecting Scripture and his (somewhat fascist) plea for strength by unity so closely, Trump is attempting something more. He’s weaving a subtle story into the foundations of his speech.

The narrative woven

That story is this: God has a particular affinity for America. Consequently, God will elevate and protect America and make its will irresistible on the world stage. Americans, with Trump as their exemplar and prophet, are automatically favoured in God’s eyes and ought to help other peoples to become more like them.

In three sentences, Trump covers a lot of narrative ground. He’s endowing his ideology with some semblance of divine authority. He’s blurring the lines between a separate, holy people dedicated to God, and a separate, superior people dedicated to their own national elevation. He’s smuggling in the notion that he will guide America in continuing some vague holy quest and help it fulfil some equally vague (but inherently righteous) destiny.

This is but one example of how Trump distorted the message of the Bible on Inauguration Day for political gain. So here are a few extra-biblical things the inauguration crew tried to convince us of:

1. America is God’s one favoured nation, and the promises of God given to his followers belong to all Americans.

“We will be protected by the great men and women of our military and law enforcement. And most importantly, we will be protected by God.” – President Trump

Trump: America and Americans can expect protection as a simple part of the deal of being American.

“We are a blessed nation with a rich history of faith and fortitude with a future which is filled with promise and purpose…In every generation you have provided the strength and power to become that blessed nation.” – Paula White

Trumpette: God is making a personal effort to prosper America because he likes it more than other countries.

Bible: The point of the New Testament is that by the blood of Jesus, people from all countries and races are radically transformed and brought into eternal unity with God to become part of the only nation of lasting consequence, the only blessed nation – God’s (Revelation 7: 9-17). In light of this, America is just like any other country – transient, and part of the backdrop rather than part of the play. So…no, America is not special.

2. Trump and his fellow Americans are righteous in God’s eyes and are called to/are achieving the Christian standard of godliness.

“God blesses those who are humble, for they will inherit the earth…He blesses those who are pure in heart, for they will see God…God blesses those who are persecuted for doing right, for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs.” – Samuel Rodriguez (Matthew 5:3-11)

Trumpist: All Americans should aspire to be righteous in God’s sight. By attempting to be corporately humble, or pure in heart, or stoic in the face of hostility, Americans can access the promise and favour and protection of God.

The prob: Rodriguez aims these verses at the American public, suggesting that Americans are somehow capable of being morally superior on their own, and so winning the moral highground in the superpower-sweepstakes.

Bible: I think that Jesus’ point in this piece of Scripture is that it is basically impossible to live up to God’s standard of righteousness – it’s only by accepting His death and resurrection on our behalf that we can be counted righteous in God’s eyes. The only beatitude which all Americans should try to follow is the first one, “God blesses those who are poor and realise their need for him, for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs“. Only by recognising our need for God and by turning to Him are things like humility and righteousness possible. In sum, being American does not entitle you to a unique path to righteousness which bypasses faith in Jesus Christ.

3. Because America is exceptional and favoured by God, it ought to make other countries more American with a gospelic urgency.

“For you are the light of the world—like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden. No one lights a lamp and then puts it under a basket. Instead, a lamp is placed on a stand, where it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your good deeds shine out for all to see, that everyone will praise your heavenly Father.” – Samuel Rodriguez (Matthew 5: 12-16)

“We do not seek to impose our way of life on anyone, but rather let it shine as an example. We will shine for everyone to follow.” – President Trump

Trump is copying the language that Jesus used, stealing His instruction to the church and using it as an appeal to Americans. Trump uses deliberately messianic language to extol the virtues of American cultural imperialism (which people really ought to be more outraged about), and to suggest that said superiority is born of good works which Americans intrinsically do. So yeah, completely missing the point of the Gospel.


Epilogue

Trump is setting up his presidency as one possessed of an almost divine mandate to elevate America above other countries. But why? I mean aside from sheer narcissism, aside from the obvious benefits of having a deity’s backing. What is Trump’s game in all of this?

Trump’s game in all of this (maybe):

If folk are convinced that there is a clear divine consensus that Americans are special and that more people need to be like Americans, Trump is giving himself a platform from which to justifiably reject all migration to America, to build his wall, and to convince Americans that other people, other cultures, other countries should matter much less to the average American. If successful, he undercuts criticism that his policy of ‘America First’ is big league selfish. He gives a holy confirmation to his ruthless stances on foreign aid and trade and relations.

More than this, Trump is placing himself centre stage in the narrative he’s writing – as the suffering but eternally triumphant all-American messiah who will deliver his people out from the liberal wilderness and into the promised land of America being great again. He’s hijacking the nominal religious sentiment of much of his country and redirecting it for his political purposes to get people to believe in an American supremacist vision of the future, with himself at the helm. Nominal Christians in the country who feel their identities and values to be under threat, who have pinned their hopes upon a return to a mythical ‘Christian America’, will have soft hearts to this sort of rhetoric.

Me, griping

It’d be fair to say that the inaugural abuse of scripture entirely got my goat. I will happily enjoy Trump’s antics from across the water but seriously man, decide who you’re going to be. Are you going to be the locker-room-boy, the misogynist, the racist, the obsessively-best-at-everything, the national guilty pleasure? Or are you going to be America’s Christian messiah, America’s holy warrior? It’s clear to anyone with half a conception of what Christians are and what the Bible says that Trump is as far from Jesus as I am from being President. Breaking the record for Most Religious Leaders At An Inauguration doesn’t make you the most Christian President ever. If Trump had read a Bible, he’d know how utterly repellent his behaviour is to the demographic he’s trying to woo. It’s almost funny – he’s trying to use Christianity to convince America that national selfishness is God’s design for their country. I suppose it’s what people want to believe.

Trump-directed outrage is nothing new. My most major beef is with the church leaders who won’t quit playing along. I mean, rain as a sign of God’s blessing. srsly. If you’re an Old Testament prophet, it’s your job to denounce the political regime of the day, to awaken the nations to their sin, to drive them to repentance, and to encourage those who remain faithful to God to live in submissive opposition to the sin of their governments. I didn’t expect church leaders to denounce America’s sins on inauguration day. But I also didn’t expect them to use the Scriptures to prop up Trump’s Gospel in which America is sinless, America is God’s chosen nation, and Trump is the new national messiah.