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ShineonHu – In the light of Humanism

May 22, 2015 by Guest author

Anna Beniermann discusses the new ShineonHu humanist art project coinciding with the 50th anniversary of the Happy Human, the international symbol of Humanism.

A screencap from ShineonHu.com, spotlighting the BHA origins of the Happy Human symbol

Out of the darkness a warm light – streaks of yellow, orange and red – like flickering flames, flowing lava or glowing embers. Amidst the gleaming flames the red figure of a person stretching their arms up high. The Happy Human, the international symbol of the humanistic organisations, stands on a most aesthetic centre stage. Several carefully positioned layers of painted glass create a three-dimensional setting with a spatial effect that a picture cannot capture. Standing before one of these works, the viewer becomes enmeshed in the depth of light that shines through symbols of peace and human rights.

ShineonHu is an art project that puts the practice of Humanism in focus. The creative and technical mind behind ShineonHu is the designer and visual artist Pete Stary. For over three years the humanist has been producing illuminated objects of art in his own atelier. Gradually the idea developed that rather than decorative forms he could set meaningful symbols in the steel and between the layers of glass. ‘My way of working makes it possible to combine the pieces with a message that reflects a worldly philosophy important to me personally.’

Floating in some of the lights is the delicate tracing of a pair of glasses. Below them stands the caption OneDollarGlasses. The OneDollarGlasses is an idea of the German teacher Martin Aufmuth by which impoverished people anywhere in the world should be able to afford a pair of glasses and thus be able to work and provide for their families. All those projects that offer practical aid from and for human beings to make the world a better place belong on the stage that Stary has set with his light art:

‘Just like onedollarglasses.de, theoceancleanup.com or aliteroflight.org there are hundreds of other such vitally important projects that are all based on the same equations: On good people with a great character who use their intelligence, creativity and gumption to make others aware of injustices that should be removed. People who offer solutions – unconventional, idealistic, original. These ideas I want to gather. I want to point them out. Projects like these should not be just projects. They should represent the standard of an enlightened individual.

‘I can’t do anything near the same as these people who have launched these three immensely valuable projects. But I could perhaps produce works that raise awareness of such efforts and encourage a new way of looking at things.’

Each light sculpture in the art project ShineonHu is a unique work of hand-painted glass. They are all delivered with an integrated USB flash drive that can be inserted in a steel backing. The drive contains a collection of texts, pictures, videos of exactly those world-wide projects that direct us in the “right direction”; these can also be found on the webpage of shineonhu.com. The collection is expected to expand continually, not only through the cooperation of people who refer relevant themes to the art project.

‘I want to be able to expect more from mankind.’

These light sculptures are an appeal, both emotional and intellectual – an appeal to the voice of humanity and reason: ‘I am furious with the human species. We would be capable of so immensely much more if we could only learn to live together. If we finally respected life itself in all its aspects. Life, ourselves, this planet.’

Voicing criticism on religious or political systems and structures is an important thing to do; however, criticism alone does not enable us to act. Practice-oriented Humanism requires us to become conscious of the human situation in each individual and to recognise that there are some fundamental flaws out there. The purpose is not to establish utopias or regulate behaviour, but to perceive that genuine alternatives already exist which each and every person can engage in. To present possible fields of action, to become a sounding board where future-oriented ideas and goals can be shared with one another and sent out into the world – that is what this artist wishes to do.

‘I’m not able to love my great-great grandchildren because I don’t know them. But I do know that I love my child. And I know that my child will love its child. And that one, again, will love its child. And this in turn its own. And here we stand in this chain, which represents a positive reality for each of us, and let everything go to shambles because we’re too simple-minded to communicate and because we simply don’t feel like thinking things over, or, we don’t give those minds that definitely are capable of thought a platform so that we can listen to them. Hans Rosling, for example, is a person who presents solutions and it’s shameful how few even know who he is.’

In their uniqueness and beauty the humanistic lights capture attention. They provide an opening for conversations on sensible topics that might otherwise never be touched upon. Stary’s hand-made illuminated sculptures illustrate the central message of compassion with such clarity, depth and beauty that they raise hope for change. Perhaps their warmth can motivate some people to stand up and resist what can often be a cold reality.

‘I have this crazy idea that with the right blend of a good heart and healthy dose of common sense you could set a few things in this world off in the right direction.
—Pete Stary

Is it appropriate to use churches as polling stations?

April 9, 2015 by Guest author

The 2015 general election on 7 May looks closer than ever and contentious issues around religion are clear political skirmishing grounds. In light of this, should churches still house ballot boxes? The research suggests not, argues Adam Coomer.

Polling station by Christopher Brown EDITED bw bad weather

Both location and weather can alter voting intention, say researchers. Photo: Christopher Brown.

Bunting hung and the airwaves crowded with opinion, prediction, and analysis. Television schedules adjusted. Bus-loads of young men and women wearing tribal colours. If you’re reading this post from an archive then you might think that I’m referring to the World Cup, but I’m actually referring to the 2015 general election campaign.

Many of us will by now have received polling cards advising those of us not making use of postal voting of where we need to attend on 7 May. Many of these locations will be churches. (The first draft of this post actually read ‘places of worship’, although I was unable to find any examples of non-Christian facilities being used). As issues to do with how religion should intersect with public life become more relevant to politicians and to the electorate, it may be time to reconsider whether houses of faith are suitable for this purpose.

In the life of the current Parliament, major debates have taken place regarding same-sex marriage, immigration, and the future of the House of Lords, where to do this day 26 Church of England bishops hold reserves seats by right of being clergy. In February, a collection of influential Anglican figures published an open letter proclaiming it to be ‘the duty of every Christian adult to vote’. This will not represent the view of every Anglican (let alone every Christian) any more than will the declaration by controversial Muslim cleric Anjem Choudary that voting is ‘sinful’ under Islamic law (accompanied by frigidly uncreative hashtag #StayMuslimDontVote). The clear point is that both religious issues and groups are significantly in play as polling day approaches. It can hardly assist those in disagreement with Choudary that some undecided Muslim voters will inevitably receive, as I did last week, polling cards instructing them to attend a local Christian church. This less speaks than mumbles of inclusive democracy.

Polling in religious buildings potentially risks alienating those of other faiths (and none), but this is only one aspect. A second and better examined question is whether polling location can actually influence how a voter marks their ballot. Social scientists and marketers well understand that human behaviour, choice and attitude can be influenced by the unconscious influence of the environment: a phenomenon known as priming. This occurs because the stimuli in question act on the subconscious and promote the access of closely associate memories and, as such, the effects tend to be unpredictable and unique to each individual. In the constitutionally secular United States, there has been a renewed enthusiasm for investigating these influences on voting decisions since the controversially close Presidential election of 2000.

Election outcomes have been shown to be influenced by a wide range of subtle factors, from the design of the ballot paper to the weather conditions on polling day. The first set of studies to look specifically at the influence of polling location were published by Stanford University researchers in 2006. These showed that those voting in schools were more likely to support a tax increase to fund education. Further studies specific to churches were published in 2010 and 2014. The first study suggested that voting in churches may be ‘advantageous to politically conservative candidates and to supporters of conservative positions on abortion, same-sex marriage, and other relevant issues’. However, the latter paper found the inverse, with those voting in churches more likely to support a proposition on same-sex marriage, which the researchers speculatively suggest may be due to negative campaigning on the issue by religious groups. Intriguingly, those voting in schools were also more likely to support marriage equality, whilst voters using municipal buildings (fire and police stations, community halls, and the like) were least in favour. The original Stanford researchers concluded that: ‘The magnitude of the influence of polling location on voting found here would be more than enough to change the outcome of a close election,’ a finding endorsed throughout the literature.

Objection to the use of churches as polling stations need not be based on anti-religious sentiment, but sensibly motivated by a desire for unbiased elections. Evidently, it is not even pre-determined in what manner the church environment might influence the undecided voter, but that there is some effect seems plain. If it is the case that mainly Christian facilities are used – and it seems likely that this is so – then what message does this send to non-Christians? Few are likely to further investigate the topic or understand that the officers selecting such buildings have a broad discretion, rather than compulsion.

As elections become closer and the traditional ‘Westminster henhouse’ becomes more colourful and claustrophobic, we can scarcely afford to be ignorant towards any unconscious influence inherent to the very mechanics of the process. While the perfect polling-day voter is balanced, well researched and pre-decided, they are extremely rare for the same reasons. Many people will attend on 7 May without a clear plan of how to vote – people protected from last-minute influence by exclusions placed on campaigners or materials in the vicinity of the polling station, and by a general prohibition on party-political clothing or paraphernalia on site. All of these rules are seem to be ignorant of that fact that the very room in which the process takes place may have the final say.

Under the parliamentary election rules, acting returning officers have broad discretion over the location of polling venues, with the right to use without charge any premises paid for (partly or fully) out of rates. These include schools and council premises – themselves fraught with problems. Beyond this there seem to be few rules and little guidance. Perhaps, in the circumstances, this should be reconsidered.

Adam Coomer is a member of the BHA’s Young Humanists and postgraduate student with University College London, with particular interests in law, religion and economics. Follow him on Twitter at @AdamMCoomer.

References

Berger, J.; Meredith, M. & Wheeler, S.C., ‘Can Where People Vote Influence How They Vote? The Influence of Polling Location Type on Voting Behavior’ (2006), Stanford GSB Research Paper No. 1926 (DOI: 10.2139/ssrn.890660).

Berger, J.; Meredith, M. & Wheeler, C.S., ‘Contextual Priming: Where People Vote Affects How They Vote’ (2008) Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 105 (26), 8846-8849.

Blumenthal, J.A. & Turnipseed, T.L., ‘Is Voting in Churches (or Anywhere Else) Unconstitutional?: The Polling Place Priming (PPP) Effect’ (2010), Boston University Law Review, Vol. 91, 2011.

Pryor, B.; Morehouse Mendez, J. & Herrick, R. ‘Let’s Be Fair: Do Polling Locations Prime Votes?’ (2014) J Pol Sci Pub Aff 2:126.; (DOI: 10.4172/2332-0761.1000126).

Rutchick, A.M., ‘Deus Ex Machina: The Inﬂuence of Polling Place on Voting Behavior’ (2010), Political Psychology, Vol. 31, No. 2, 2010 (DOI: 10.1111/j.1467-9221.2009.00749.x)

Series warriors: In defence of our television addiction

April 1, 2015 by Guest author

Ben Greenhalgh justifies our fascination with stories on the small screen.

Do you suffer from TV addiction? Photo: Lars Ploughmann

The door creaks open and you emerge, still grasping the duvet that you have failed to part from for days. It’s stained, ridden with crumbs and stinks like stale beer. With your square eyed comrades following cautiously behind you, your eyes strain to adjust to the new world. Your legs are weak from lack of use, your bladder exhausted from putting off trips to the toilet at important plot points. Your mouth is dry, and you’ve forgotten how to speak for the first few seconds until you utter the catch phrase of a generation: “I can’t wait for the next one!”

These symptoms point to a clear diagnosis of series addiction. It’s contagious to say the least; yet, I happily get infected.

There can be no doubt that we are a nation that loves our TV. Conversations surrounding certain well known shows frequently make their way into the social symposium. So much so, a recent study by Sky Atlantic showed the pressure to be in the know with the latest must-see shows, or keep up with the workplace chat that surrounds them, has led to millions of people faking their way through conversations rather than be seen to be out of the loop. This to me is fantastic. People want to share the storytelling experience with others, and it couldn’t come at a better time.

There are of course those who lambast such reliance upon screens: ‘Watching too much TV and films is a waste of valuable time: a slovenly and hedonistic pursuit with little merit!’ They shout that our brains will turn to mush, we will fail to form real social relationships, forget how to read, how to write, and will eventually become puddles of inanimate pointlessness. Personally, I think such people watch too much science fiction.

Although the written word will always maintain its pride of place beside humanity as the most powerful form of artistry, time changes: books have become just a part of our vast entertainment culture. Being in front of the box is a fundamental piece of our pleasure palate, and, if supplied with enough crisps and sweets, we can devour episodes and films with equal zeal, because, at the heart of each show or episode, is our human thirst for story.

Our need for story is seemingly inherent within our very biology: even when we dream we tell stories to ourselves. The reason is summed up beautifully by critic Kenneth Burke: ‘stories are equipment for living’.

As a species, we should constantly be questioning things, especially that of established norm. We need to persistently reinvent, challenge and adapt in order to better ourselves and the society we choose to create for ourselves and others. Arguably, the most important question we ask ourselves towards this end was posed in Aristotle’s ‘Ethics’: how should a person live their life?

The factual answer eludes us of course, somehow hidden behind the wildfires of life where we find ourselves in a constant struggle to match our means with our dreams. Traditionally, humankind has made it the task of wisdom in the forms of philosophy, science, religion, and art to answer this ultimate question. Instead of coming up with answers, we have taken parts of each to bolster and create a liveable meaning, often resulting in conflict through disagreements on how much of each wisdom plays a role in forming just societies. I can think of one in particular. However, as our reliance upon this traditional wisdom diminishes, we continue to look to a source we still believe in, the art of story; the art of learning from the collective experience of humanity.

The best shows do not simply deal with entertaining us. Entertainment and enjoyment comes from our understanding of the characters, our empathy with them and their choices within the events of the story. We condemn and support these choices: actively discuss them with others as a way of learning about, not only our own moral outlook, but others as well. We learn from the characters’ mistakes and successes, we follow them through their trials and see them emerge on the other side failed or triumphant, mirroring our own transformation once the drama has ended.

Stories, whatever their medium, aren’t simply a flight from reality as some believe them to be; they are vehicles carrying us along in our search for reality so we are better equipped to make sense of the chaos of life.

Stories are finding explosive growth in modern society, and within series alone, that many of us follow dutifully, we are offered a communal way of understanding parts of the human experience aside from shrinking dogmatic ideology that once acted alone to create meaningful existence. The more we watch and question these tales as a society, the more we question the world around us.

So, when you eventually crawl out from some dark hole after a 10-hour binge of The Walking Dead, think of it more as a philosophical lesson: an entertaining debate into your own power as an individual, and a closer understanding of the trials and tribulations of that individual within society. Have a shower and some proper food though; that’s good for you too.

Ben Greenhalgh is a philosopher and writer. He works full time as a tutor for vulnerable young people who cannot be educated within mainstream education.

Under 35 and non-religious? The word that best describes your worldview might be ‘humanist’

March 25, 2015 by Guest author

James Fogg, in this guest post on HumanistLife, discusses the increasing popularity of the humanist perspective among young people, as well as the broad popularity of BHA campaign areas within that demographic.

Your views on various issues, and the rational, empathetic approach you took to get there? It has a name. Photo: Jacob Bøtter

I believe many people, young and old, are unconsciously living a humanistic lifestyle. Never before has Humanism been so unconsciously prevalent in the lives of young people. According to the latest British Social Attitudes Survey, two thirds of today’s young people between ages 15 and 34 say they have no religion, and this means that they are happily finding their own way… without need for religious guidance. If you’re in this demographic, many of your friends will probably be humanists as well, often without realising. In fact, the UK population shares a great deal of common ground when it comes to a ethical issues and questions – and many of them will take a decidedly ‘humanist’ approach to answering these questions. When it comes to these sorts of questions, the views of the public at large, and young people in particular, align with those of the British Humanist Associations and its portfolio of campaigns.

‘Faith’ schools

With 51% of the British population identifying themselves as non-religious, we can safely assume a large proportion of children will not be brought up in a religious home. However, one third of state-funded schools are ‘faith’ schools, and children are sometimes very susceptible to misinformation. As they regard schools as places of education they may automatically assume all that they are taught is fact-based. We of course know better. But needless to say, religion is not fact-based. It is riddled with flaws including archaic doctrines, irrational behaviour, illogical thesis, and mythical beings.

The only place religion should have in schools is in the History and Religious Studies curriculums – it is of course right that young people learn about major world religions. But it’s wrong to teach them that any religion is literally true, as can be taught in ‘faith’ schools.

A Guardian poll in 2005 for example, found that 64% of people surveyed opposed state-funded faith schools of any kind. I firmly believe there is no such thing as a Christian, Islamic, Jewish child or otherwise. All children are born blank slates, without knowledge of custom or religion, until their minds are introduced to religious ideas or indoctrination, at home or in schools. Opposition to ‘faith’ schools is one area where the BHA and humanists generally act as prominent voices for the views of a wide swathe of people in Britain.

Equality and human rights

Human rights, covering things like the right to know our own minds, to express our own thoughts and beliefs, the right to education, a fair trial, freedom from slavery etc. are universal. We have these rights by dint of being human. Human rights are a bulwark against inequality, prejudice, and oppression. Equality and human rights are one and the same thing, and it is these simple truths as to the basic rights we require to live our lives – as encoded in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights – which best encapsulate what it means to be free, to be human, and to be who you are with confidence and without worry.

Marriage equality

The YouGov/Sun Poll from 2013 found that three quarters of people aged 18-24 supported the right of same-sex couples to have legally binding partnerships, referring to civil partnerships. Many more polls since have found broad support for same-sex marriage and civil partnership rights across the population, and consistently among young people. Humanists and the BHA have a strong history on this issue, and one they can be proud of. For example, humanist organisations around the world, including the BHA here in Britain, have been at the forefront of campaigns for marriage equality. I believe we can look forward to a time when ‘coming out’ of the closet and perhaps even concepts of sexual orientation are regarded as old-fashioned.

Assisted dying

This is a sensitive subject for many people. It raises many questions about ethics and the level of control we have over our own lives, and it’s a subject I feel passionately about. People should have the right to die. It’s as simple as that. I hope I live long enough to decide how I go, and if not, I hope I go out in style. Around 80% of the British population support a change in law allowing the terminally ill help to end their own lives. The current law mandates relentless suffering, and makes no concessions for the right to autonomy. Lord Falconer’s Assisted Dying Bill is an important piece of proposed legislation, and has been a lightning rod for a much-needed wider discussion around this issue. The BHA advocates for anyone suffering an incurable illness, who has made a committed and uncoerced decision, to have an assisted death should they want one. This, I believe, is the most ethical position and it is one motivated by a humanist perspective on ethics.

For me, that’s what Humanism is all about: rational thought and compassion working for the benefit of everyone. For the purposes of illustration I have chosen just a handful of the BHA’s campaigns. There are more, and there is plenty more good work to be done.

James Fogg is a volunteer at Young Humanists, the new section of the British Humanist Association for 18-35 year olds. Young humanists are invited to the launch party taking place in London on 27 March – find out more at www.younghumanists.org.uk/launch. You can follow Young Humanists on Facebook and Twitter.

Why Humanism and feminism go hand in hand

March 7, 2015 by Guest author

For International Women’s Day (8 March 2015), Cordelia Tucker O’Sullivan explores the profound unity of Humanism and feminism.

Supporters of feminist, anticlerical activist band Pussy Riot outside the Russian embassy in London.

‘Why feminism and not just humanism?’ is a question often invoked by closet misogynists attempting to highlight some imagined incoherence or hypocrisy embedded in the feminist ethical perspective. It is a question which lacks the intended effect, given that it incorrectly defines both Humanism and feminism, but does actually provoke some deeper questions about the historical and philosophical relationship between the two. So, even though the questioner is at best ignorant and at worst bigoted, there is a silver lining.

So what is the difference? Feminism is defined most commonly (and I believe most accurately) as ‘the advocacy of women’s rights on the ground of equality of the sexes’, whereas a humanist believes in the authority of the scientific method in understanding the world, rejecting the supernatural (including a belief in god), and in seeking to live an ethically fulfilling life on the basis of common reason and humanity, challenging religious privilege in the public sphere. Not only does the inquirer demonstrably rely on ill-defined terms for their criticism of modern feminism, they clearly have not done their research – the overlap between feminist and humanist beliefs and goals is deep and significant.

To start, the suffragette movement in both the UK and the US was against a background of voracious defence of male privilege by the church, an idea found in bountiful supply in the Bible (among other religious texts). The claim was that god created women as inferior to men, and it is part of god’s plan that it remains that way. Jesus, the earthly incarnation of god, was also a bloke – if he existed at all. We of course can’t relegate this archaic attitude to the past, as the Church of England consecrated its first female bishop in January this year. It therefore seems natural, or even obvious, that there would be a significant overlap between humanist and feminist objectives and beliefs.

In fact, two out of three leaders of the suffragette movement in the US were explicit ‘free thinkers’ (a term used to denote those who reach ‘unorthodox’ conclusions about religion), who criticised the church for their institutionalisation of discrimination against women. The British Humanist Association (BHA) holds an emphatically pro-choice position on the issue of abortion, and actively campaigns for reproductive rights for all women. Diane Munday, the feminist campaigner who lobbied successfully for the passing of the Abortion Act 1967, numbers among their patrons. The BHA and other humanist organisations actively campaign for the provision of human rights to all, and support progress in the direction of women’s substantive emancipation worldwide. Evidently, these are both issues which feminists typically support (I would be slightly confused if I came across a feminist who was ‘pro-life’, let alone who thought that women’s emancipation was no big deal!).

So what exactly is responsible for this extensive common ground amongst feminists and humanists? At first glance, it looks like it might be mere coincidence that those of both ethical stripes pursue similar political goals. Humanists criticise the abortion prohibition because it is grounded in religious exceptionalism, as such the non-religious ought not to be compelled to comply, whereas feminists are more concerned with the woman’s right to choose, and the rights she enjoys over her own body. This is superficial. To get a more coherent and profound analysis of humanism and feminism, we must look to the moral bases of each, which, as it turns out, they have in common. Humanism grounds morality in the welfare of humans and other sentient beings, seeking moral guidance on the basis of our common reason and humanity. As such, the right to autonomy is of paramount importance, as it is a central feature of living a good human life – whatever that entails for the individual (that’s the point). Therefore, a humanist considers the legalisation of abortion a moral imperative not just because it respects the beliefs of the non-religious, but because it is a matter of respecting one’s right to self-determination. Similarly, coherent feminists are not misandrists, they seek equal rights for men and women on the basis that both sexes have the ability and the right to lead self-determining lives for which control and ownership over one’s body is a necessary component.

So, in response to ‘why feminism, and not just Humanism’ I say this: the only real difference between the two is an explicit denial of the existence of a deity for humanists. What these philosophies share is a deep commitment to equal rights, non-discrimination, and the right to self-determination and autonomy, and that is what is really important.

Cordelia Tucker O’Sullivan is a master’s student in political theory at the London School of Economics and a public affairs volunteer at the British Humanist Association.

Religion should not dominate in our schools

March 5, 2015 by Guest author

Graham Walker reflects on the latest controversy at the Durham Free School, and reflects on the need for inclusive schools across the state sector.

The beautiful city of Durham, where the latest scandal of religion in education arose. Photo: Flickr/mrgarethm

Many will remember the education scandal associated with the so-called ‘Operation Trojan Horse’ in 2014. A letter was given to the authorities which purported to be evidence of a plot by hardline Islamists to replace leadership in Birmingham schools with a high proportion of attendees from Muslim backgrounds, in order to instil a much more religiously conservative ethos and curricula. Though the letter was widely suspected to be as a hoax, it triggered several investigations into 21 different schools in Birmingham.

This triggered at-the-time Education Minister, Michael Gove to demand that we must start teaching ‘British values’. There was much controversy at the time of what constituted British values, and for some these questions have not been satisfactorily answered. In its response to Mr Gove’s consultation, while remaining generally positive towards the proposed requirements, the British Humanist Association (BHA) pointed out that ‘none of the values listed are uniquely British’. It is interesting to reflect with this that David Cameron, also in 2014, called England a ‘Christian country’, which many saw as an archaic view of the country not acknowledging the cultural diversity of the UK, nor the fact that 48% (later that year revised to 51%) of the British population identified as having ‘no religion’.

These points raise serious questions about the role of religion in school. In a multicultural and pluralistic British society, can we identify the country as having one religion? Is it worth stating a religious identity at all? And either way, what does this mean for our education system?

These questions and others like it have become a lot more difficult to answer with Ofsted delivering, on 19 January, one of its worst ever reports to ‘The Durham Free School’: a school with a strong ‘Christian ethos’. The school received inadequate (the worst rating) in all areas covered in the inspection. Many of the inspector’s comments give significant cause for alarm, in relation to schooling generally but also in relation to the role that religion played within the school. In the report we find comments such as:

‘Reviewing the curriculum so that there are appropriate opportunities to teach students about sex and relationships and to promote respect for different faiths, beliefs and values so that they are fully ready to function as young citizens of modern Britain’

‘Governors place too much emphasis on religious credentials when they are recruiting key staff and not enough on seeking candidates with excellent leadership and teaching skills’

‘The religious studies curriculum was too narrow and did not give students enough opportunities to learn about different faiths and beliefs. Consequently, students’ understanding of different faiths and beliefs is sketchy with some holding prejudiced views which are not challenged.’

It is clear that the school’s management and teaching staff, and the governors have all, to some extent, allowed their own personal religious beliefs to negatively impact on the opportunity for the pupils of this school to receive an adequate education; a very sad state of affairs.

With two serious incidents in education from schools where religious values are put before teaching the role of religious schools within Britain has to be called in to question.

Hardly anyone should be saying that schools should be wholly secular, with no religious education; this is not a way to foster understanding and compassion for people and their beliefs. The BHA, which was pivotal in supporting whistleblowers to blow the lid on what was going on at the school at the centre of the ‘Trojan Horse’ scandal, argues for a comprehensive, broad-based religious education system which teaches about religious and non-religious views such as Humanism side-by-side. Religion should not, however, dominate the school’s management structure, nor should it compromise the quality of education in things like sex education and biology.

America has always believed, constitutionally, in the firm separation of church and state, and while Britain has never enjoyed this same state secularism, there has always been a healthy scepticism from the public at attempts to politicise religion, or crusade politically on a religious basis. Schools are a bedrock of any healthy society, and so reasonably they should fall under the same dictum that religion does not have a place within the governance of our schooling systems.

Graham Walker is a student and blogger. Graham has studied psychology and cognitive behavioural therapy, and is currently studying for an MSc in occupational therapy. He blogs on various issues that he feels are important. You can follow him on Twitter at @think_damn_it.

Bigger fish to Fry?

February 9, 2015 by Guest author

Forget the problem of evil, argues Matthew Hicks. Why aren’t we getting more het up about injustice and human suffering?

Last week saw a media storm over an interview with Stephen Fry. During the interview (embedded below), Fry was asked: ‘What if you’re wrong? What would you say to God if you found you were at the pearly gates?’ Fry said that he would ask this benevolent, compassionate, all-knowing God what bone cancer in children was all about before becoming reservedly enraged about the level of suffering on this planet against a backdrop of a supposedly benevolent, compassionate, all-powerful, and all-knowing being.

Fry’s response was by no means novel, but he articulated himself sufficiently well that people either identified with it or took disagreement with it strongly enough to result in millions of shares and retweets . What stuck out to me however, was not his articulacy or verbosity, but rather his rage at injustice and suffering in the world today, an emotion which was almost palpable.

The question posed to Fry was a narrow-minded, both philosophically and spiritually, and Fry very eloquently answered back in those same terms. But it was the narrowness of Fry’s response which has led to people from both ends of the belief spectrum rushing in to claim an intellectual or spiritual high ground.

With Fry’s rage about suffering so effectively bypassed by those responders, I would like to ask a question. If we are so concerned with the nature of this dilemma, and so many of those with faith or lack thereof are, then why can’t we find it in ourselves to stand alongside Fry in this rage regardless of our belief?

The realms of the supernatural and the rational can fight all they want, split verbal hairs and claim immaturity and narrow-mindedness on the other’s part. Any one of us can detail the insides of our navels over this issue and wait sneeringly for a response. If we do that however, and jump on the difference of opinion rather than share in the rage of injustice, then we are no different from an allegedly all-powerful, all-compassionate God who sits on his divine derrière.

We live in an age where we who have access to Fry’s interview (and the ability to share it) have a comprehension of the world and its affairs that is unprecedented in history. We are as close to an all-knowing animal as we can get right now! And through the Internet, we also now have the ability to change so much that which is unjust. We are not ourselves all-powerful but as men and women, we have countless opportunities to effect change through democratic activity.

‘For me the evil of inactivity is so much more malignant than the evil of difference of opinion.’

My point is that rage spent on attempting to reverse injustice and suffering is much more productive than rage spent on pointless debate. Are we not better off expending energy on real issues at stake in the world today through channels such as scientific research, foreign aid, and the promotion of human rights? Surely that is a more worthwhile display of our better human qualities than arguments which have no benefit except to fuel the ego of those arguing their point.

Whether there is a divine being is irrelevant to the point in hand. What Fry’s response encapsulates is a sense of anger that we all feel and identify with at some level regardless of belief. Of course highlighting our differences is so much easier than seeking common ground. To do the latter would open up a whole can of worms with regards our sense of responsibility toward our fellow humans. For me the evil of inactivity is so much more malignant than the evil of difference of opinion.

As Martin Niemoller said:

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

Matt Hicks can be often found touring Devon with a bag full of songs and his ukulele. He blogs at The Wooden Duck.

Please don’t bash our media freedoms: one humanist’s plea for careful language

February 5, 2015 by Guest author

Tony Charlesworth is alarmed by what he sees as crude generalisations about ‘the media’ at the recent ‘Common Ground’ event between humanists and Muslims at Conway Hall.

Alom Shaha chaired four Muslim panellists in front of a mainly humanist audience.

People are not punchbags. Mutual comprehension is always preferable to conflict. ‘Jaw, jaw’, said Winston Churchill, is always better than ‘war, war’. So the recent ‘Common Ground Dialogue’ at Conway Hall between a panel of four moderate Muslims, chaired by BHA trustee Alom Shaha, and an audience largely made up of humanists was to be welcomed. And it proved worthwhile. The panel was composed of intelligent, reasoning people with interesting things to say.

Any initiative that says we should listen in a reasoned way to people with opposing ideas, rather than shouting at each other, is always to be welcomed. The organisers and the panelists are to be congratulated. And certainly it was useful to hear about the spectrum of ideas that exist within Islam.

The speakers asked probing questions about their own Muslim faith. They spoke about the treatment of women; the deep-rooted sectarianism within Islam; and about the problems that flow from literal interpretations of holy texts. Questions from the audience shed light on matters to do with ‘faith’ schools; homosexuality; and links between Islam and violence.

Given the issues that the panel members experienced with their own faith, it was a pity that they weren’t pressed more on what it is they continue to get out of this faith themselves and what it means to them as individuals. That was an opportunity missed.

And while we’re at it, we also need to be honest and acknowledge that very many humanists don’t feel quite so sanguine about this kind of ‘interfaith’ dialogue. I should stress that I am not one of them. But as a member of the BHA, I’m acutely aware that many of my fellow atheists feel that religion must be directly addressed rather than tolerated. They would argue that it’s a highly problematic circle to square: both to live harmoniously alongside the religious, whilst also being strongly opposed to religion. But that’s a big separate discussion for another time.

Loose language

So now let me come to the one major aspect of this Conway Hall event that troubled me greatly. And it’s a matter thrown sharply onto centre-stage by the recent freedom of expression discussions in the wake of the Charlie Hebdo affair.

The panel’s niceness and reasonableness (together with the niceness and reasonableness of the humanist event organisers) flew out of the window when it came to one important group: the media. As far as the media was concerned, instead of reasoned thought, we heard worryingly loose language from the panel and organisers, as well as lazy thinking, unquestioned assumptions, and sweeping generalisations. All things I would say are unforgivable for a humanist meeting.

This isn’t merely a peripheral matter. It was precisely those kind of sweeping unthinking generalisations about groups of people that this event was intended to tackle!

Let me start with the recent article in HumanistLife which reported on this event, written by Jeremy Rodell, one of the organisers.It was headlined: ‘Common Ground dialogue: how can humanists and Muslims live and work together in 21^st century London?’ (Jeremy, by the way, is a friend of mine and he already knows my views.)

Jeremy’s opening introductory paragraph says that the purpose of the event was to ‘get behind the media stereotypes’ and ‘beyond the black-and-white “isn’t Islam terrible” rhetoric.’ But exactly what ‘media’, and which ‘stereotypes’ and what ‘rhetoric’ was he referring to? We’re not told.

He goes on to say that the purpose of the event was to ‘start to understand what real Muslims think’. But what actually is a ‘real Muslim’? What would an ‘unreal Muslim’ look like?

By simply lumping together ‘the media’ as if it were a single monolithic entity, Jeremy and his fellow humanist event organisers, together with the panelists, fell straight into the intellectual beartrap of precisely the kind of undifferentiating generalisation that they criticize others for when they lump together people as: ‘the Muslims’, ‘the Christians’, ‘the Jews’, and ‘the humanists’!

Lack of evidence

I’ve spent my entire career working as a journalist and TV producer for the BBC, Reuters, and the Associated Press. They differ markedly as organisations. Yet depressingly, this phenomenon of referring airily in general to ‘the media’ is something one comes across a great deal. When Jeremy and the panelists refer to ‘the media’ (and actually ‘the media’ are people too!), whom and what do they have in mind? Is it: the Financial Times? Playboy? Channel Four News? The Daily Mail? Al-Jazeera? The Sun? Charlie Hebdo? The Chinese Peoples’ Daily? Have I Got News For You? The Guardian? I could go on.

It was certainly striking that the humanist event organisers, the Muslim panelists and Alom Shaha as chair all tacitly indicated that for them ‘the media’ was a hostile force. Underlying this entire discussion was an unquestioned and untested assumption that ‘the media’ is to blame (partly or even perhaps wholly) for at least some of the current difficulties that Muslims find themselves in. A further unquestioned and for me objectionable underlying assumption throughout was that the work of ‘the media’ is somehow morally reprehensible.

At one point, one of the panelists spoke about the influence of ‘the global media empire’. I don’t recognize such an ‘empire’. It doesn’t exist. Such a phrase belongs to the most absurd kind of paranoid delusion. Yet nobody questioned it.

The evidence of reprehensible media influence adduced by the panel was pitifully weak and highly selective. The examples produced were: one interview with a radical cleric on BBC Radio’s Today programme; an opinion piece in the Spectator; unspecified headlines in the Daily Mail. We also had some fanciful speculation about how the Dr Harold Shipman case might have been reported had he been a Muslim. And a propos of nothing at all, a panelist spoke about disliking ‘wall to wall satellite news images of Muslim fighters in Chechnya’. Another panelist baldly asserted: ‘the headlines are always grabbed by the Muslims’. Really? Are they?

Thinking humanists (and thinking moderate Muslims) really need to do a lot better than this.

If none of this amounted to any kind of coherent case against ‘the media’ as a whole, perhaps most depressingly of all there was also no recognition at all given to the fair, objective job of reporting Muslim issues that professional, responsible, serious media organisations undertake in free societies.

At one point in the proceedings it was mentioned that one of the speakers had written several articles for various British newspapers. No details were given, but presumably she had been given a platform to present her views. Isn’t therefore generalized denigration of ‘the media’ a case of biting the hand that feeds?

The point is that ‘the media’ is a spectrum as varied and as diverse as any other social grouping, be it religious, political or whatever. But ‘the media’ became a convenient punchbag (a scapegoat even?) at this event. Let’s please be careful about crude simplifications!

The messenger is not the message

Media organisations in free societies in all their complex, highly varied pluralistic aspects communicate about, reflect on and report on the, often extremely shocking, events that are happening in our world. But media organisations are not the people who are actually carrying out what is happening in our world. The messenger who carries messages to and fro is not the same person as the person who is carrying out the actual events about which the messages are being communicated. Media organisations undertake communication of messages; they are not the people who decide the manner in which those messages are then received by an audience or how those messages should subsequently be interpreted by that audience.

Furthermore, it is also self-evident that, as well as reporting on world events, media organisations in free societies do a huge amount to facilitate and provide a platform for precisely the kind of open debate and discussion on current issues and problems that is needed in our world. Yet the organisers of this event and the event speakers simply chose to ignore all of this.

Just like democratic politics, the fact that we have free uncensored media is something that has been hard-won and shouldn’t be easily taken for granted. Moreover, much media reporting in authoritarian unfree places (such as we see in parts of the Muslim world), where it exists at all, is often undertaken by journalists at no small personal danger and risk. But once again, none of any of this was ever remotely acknowledged by either the event organisers or the panellists.

Shining a spotlight

I can entirely understand that moderate Muslims may feel extremely sensitive and feel under (real or imagined) threat when it appears to them that a glaring media spotlight is being shone on them personally because of the activities of extremist Muslims. Likewise, ordinary Jews, for example, may also feel extremely uncomfortable about the hostility (real or imagined) directed towards themselves because of the activities of the current Israeli government with regard to Gaza. I personally felt extremely uncomfortable when some of my French friends said that British people were war criminals because our government had approved the invasion of Iraq.

But the fact that people are made to feel uncomfortable about what they see, read and hear from media organisations should never in a free and open society be any reason whatsoever for the often very unpalatable and disturbing things that are going on in the world not to be reported fully, unflinchingly and unsparingly by media organisations. Nor should it be any reason to suppress the publication of what some might regard as unwelcome opinions.

Free expression, the mark of open democratic societies, needs pluralistic, vigorous, robust, questioning, often insolent, hard-nosed media organisations to hold people accountable and to shine a bright spotlight on what is happening in our world. It is precisely the mark of authoritarian, unfree societies that everything there is presented as officially rosy, no one is made to feel uncomfortable, and nothing is questioned or brought to light.

Hard-won privileges

I’m not saying that media organisations are beyond criticism. Far from it. Appalling criminal activities, for instance, like the phone hacking and entrapment that have been practiced for so long by the Rupert Murdoch-owned press must be punished hard.

And I certainly support the British Humanist Association (BHA)’s recent call to Ofcom for the BBC to carry more humanist and specifically non-religious content.

‘We just want to be allowed to get on with our lives,’ pleaded one of the panellists. But actually where is the evidence that in Britain today, Muslim people are not being allowed to do just exactly that? A sense of victimhood can become an identity.

No one should ever be racially abused. But racial hatred is now covered by British laws – unlike in the past, as Alom described it, when people were abused in the street and called ‘Paki’. There are also defamation laws that protect attacks on personal reputation. So while we’re at it, let’s also give two cheers (three’s probably too many!) for a legal system which we (unlike certain other countries in the world I can think of) are also fortunate to possess.

It’s very easy to take our media freedoms for granted. Just like we can take our democratic political institutions for granted. But these are precious, hard-won things. Much of the world doesn’t have any of our privileges. We should be celebrating these things, not denigrating them. And as humanists especially we always have the clear duty to beware of loose language, unquestioned assumptions and sweeping generalisations wherever they are found.

Tony Charlesworth is a former journalist and television producer on the staffs of the BBC, Reuters and Associated Press. He runs Tony Charlesworth Associates, a television and communications agency, and is a member of the BHA.

Remembering our common humanity: a story from Afghanistan

December 10, 2014 by Guest author

‘Although in some things we are opposed, we share an irreducible humanity.’ Julian Sheather reflects on a touching tale of human compassion.

Afghanistan. Photo: Ricymar Photography.

A friend recently sent me a news story from Afghanistan. As a slanting light can show hidden dips and lines in a landscape, so the story gradually revealed the knots and burrs of some of my half-buried prejudices. The story was about an Afghan psychiatrist, Nader Alemi, who practices in Mazar-e-Sharif, a major trading city in the north of the country. The city was taken by the Taliban in 1998 and they overran much of the surrounding countryside. At the time, Alemi was the only psychiatrist in the north of Afghanistan who spoke Pashto, the language of the majority of Taliban. For more than three years, with at least the tacit agreement of their commanders, thousands of Taliban fighters made their way to his consulting rooms. And what they bought to him during those years was the terrible psychological fall-out of war. The minds of these men were broken by it: lonely, scared and depressed, many of them admitted to a longing for death.

As I read about the damaged minds of those Taliban fighters I sensed the falling of that oblique light. The image of the Taliban I had absorbed – abbreviated and buckled by the media – did not have room for such ordinary human vulnerability. If I thought of them at all then it was as men trained from birth, like mountain Spartans, to be a warrior caste – inured to hardship and brutality, not degraded by warfare but born to it, nurtured by it. And to this I added, from out the ever-present stock of received ideas, the impregnable shield of a fundamentalist Islamism: for me the Taliban were the militarised dervishes of an orientalising fantasy.

But despite the furious and repellent ideology of the Taliban, the men that found their way to Alemi’s neutral and forgiving consulting rooms were suffering from the ordinary human consequences of combat. Mullah Akhtar, second in command to the Taliban’s spiritual leader, Mullah Omar, habituated to the horrors of front-line combat, was delusional and hallucinating. Powerlessness fed depression: men had given over their fates entirely to their commanding officers and had no idea whether they would see the day out. Despite being depicted as men with medieval minds intent on burying the modern world, and despite seldom having seen a doctor before, they had no problem with modern psychiatry. Perhaps they reached for it as if it were a lifeline.

No doubt there were times when Alemi struggled with the men who were ravaging his country, but he held to the humane dictates of his professional codes:

I used to treat the Taliban as human beings, same as I would treat my other patients…even though I knew they had caused all the problems in our society…Sometimes they would weep and I would comfort them.

Taliban orthodoxy prohibits the education of girls, but while Alemi tried to heal the minds of Taliban fighters, his wife, Parvin, ran an underground school designed to do precisely that, for up to a hundred girls at a time. Given that Alemi was trying to hold the minds of their fighters together, the Taliban turning a blind eye to a modern psychiatrist in their midst is understandable. Parvin’s was maybe the greater risk. But somehow both she and the school survived. Some of her pupils have gone on to become doctors and engineers. There was that slanting light again.

When I read that news report, along with the slight unknotting of a prejudice or two came a strange shuffle of thoughts that revealed to me some of my deepest commitments. It is commonplace that ideas and beliefs rigidly gripped will divide us. The ways of the Taliban are about as remote from mine as I figure contemporaries can get. But one can condemn a regime, an inhuman ideology, while still acknowledging the humanity of those who promote it, or who are held, one way or another, physically or mentally captive by it. Although in some things we are opposed, we share an irreducible humanity. And so that oblique light came from somewhere. It had its origins in a set of humane practices that all humanists can celebrate: in the scientific medicine that can distance itself from conflict and quietly focus on a suffering human being; in the feeding and forming of young and growing minds through educating the whole human being. And in the belief, or call it a hope, integral to journalism at its best, that a news story set down in northern Afghanistan can open the mind, however slightly, of someone sitting at his desk in a very different city several thousands of miles away.

Two funerals in six weeks… and they couldn’t have been more different

November 26, 2014 by Guest author

Lorain Behrens offers a personal reflection on two funerals she recently attended: one Jewish, and one humanist.

Humanist Ceremonies funerals are popular for their personal and fitting focus on the deceased, paying tribute to the way they lived their life, the connections they made and left behind. Pictured: funeral celebrant Cath Sutherland.

My mother-in-law lost her battle against cancer in August; my mother died suddenly six weeks later. My husband’s mother attended a nearby synagogue. One short phone call later and the funeral was arranged for the next day. We had hardly time to accept that she had died before we were lifting soil on to her coffin. We chose to mark my mother’s life, by contrast, nearly three weeks after she died with a humanist celebration.

Angela lived in the Jewish heartland of Manchester, in a flat in Prestwich. Although not outgoingly religious, she was true to her beliefs and she wanted the traditional Jewish funeral. The rabbi was contacted and everything was swiftly put in place for the service and burial a mere two days after she had died in hospital. Around 50 friends and relatives gathered at the interdenominational graveyard where the rabbi spoke his piece and then dirt was shovelled ceremoniously on to the coffin. More traditions followed back at her flat, where the four main mourners sat on lowered chairs and ate a meal of a bagel, herring and a boiled egg. The women were supposed to remain in the kitchen while the men mingled with the rabbi in the lounge, but some traditions are meant to be broken!

We were just coming to terms with Angela’s death when my mother Sylvia, who had become quickly quite frail, had collapsed in pain and was taken to hospital. Two days later she was on life support. She never regained consciousness, and died two weeks later.

Mum had always insisted she wanted a no-fuss funeral. ‘Just put me in a cardboard box and cremate me,’ she said. It’s easy to laugh when your loved one is still alive.

However, the funeral director explained, cardboard coffins were actually much more expensive than basic wooden ones – apparently the process of making the cardboard itself is extensive, which is where the cost comes in. He then showed us a brochure from an organisation called ‘Colourful Coffins’ who offered a choice of designs, as well as the opportunity to design your own.

My mother loved poppies. Her father had served in the First World War, and on Remembrance Day every year she would walk down to the end of her garden and spend a few moments in quiet contemplation. So the choice, despite the sad circumstances, and thus we selected the poppy designed casket.

Mum always described herself as ‘a happy atheist’. Her husband, my step-father, saw religious people as ‘eccentrics’. I personally am what you might call a ‘militant’ atheist (whatever that’s supposed to mean).

So it was inevitable and accepted that we would say goodbye to my mother through a humanist ceremony. The British Humanist Association was wonderful and its accredited celebrant, Hilary Leighter, spent two hours with my stepdad and brother talking about my mum, who she was, what she was like, in order to put together a tribute for the occasion. Music was chosen. My mother had loved ‘It’s Alright,’ the theme from the BBC TV show New Tricks, which proved difficult but ultimately not impossible to get hold of. To that we added a couple of operatic arias, and finally ‘As Time Goes By’, a song which had meant everything to her in the 42 years she had been married to Derek.

The ceremony took place in a chapel at a crematorium in Amersham. ‘There won’t be any crosses or religious symbols, will there?’ I had asked the funeral director. He assured me that they would all be removed. However, when I went to place a stem of a hoya flower on my mother’s coffin, I spotted a Jesus on a crucifix half hidden by the curtain. The hymn books were also in place on the pews but ignored by our gathering. Some things you just can’t avoid, it seems.

Hilary, who had never known my mother, even shed a tear or two as she read the tribute, so strong was the feeling of loss among us all in that small room. But there was no mention of any god, any afterlife, any of that nonsense. Even a Sikh neighbour who attended came up to me afterwards to say what a lovely service it had been.

It was mid September and the weather was still warm. Many people who had known my mum came back to the garden at her home in Gerrards Cross, Buckinghamshire, to eat, drink and chat in the early autumn sunshine. Despite our sadness, it was a day full of joy.

There was some dissent; Derek received an email from a distant cousin who had been at the service, even though he had not made himself known. He wrote a few weeks later to complain that there had been no religious element to the ceremony; Derek sent the email to trash without responding.

My mother’s ashes will be buried in a plot at the Stoke Poges Memorial Garden. We will have a bench where we can sit and look out at the fountains and gardens, remembering her and enjoying some quiet contemplation. In the summer, planted poppies will grow there too.

Angela has been buried near to her mother’s grave and we will return at some point in the next few months for the official unveiling of the headstone.

Angela was 81, Sylvia was 78. They both had three children — a girl and two boys. One was my husband’s mother, one was my mother. Two women, two mothers, two very different funerals.

Lorain Behrens is a freelance journalist and visual arts student at Bradford College of Arts and Media. Some names have been changed.