Religion Explained

I have been too busy this weekend to keep this blog up to date, and one of the things that have been keeping me that way is Pascal Boyer’s book Religion Explained. I really think he’s succeeded. Consciousness may yet elude explanation, but this looks like a really first class explanation of the human propensity to religion.

One thing to note is that though it comes garlanded with praise from Pinker, Dawkins, Nick Humphrey, etc; Boyer actually demolishes every one of their grand explanations for religion, though with tact as well as great precision.

I can’t summarise his theory. It’s too rich, and I still haven’t finished the book. But one aspect it worth noticing. He believes that our minds work by using “templates”, which contain largely innate categories like “ANIMAL”, such that if something is identified as “ANIMAL” we expect it to have a whole set of behaviours — to have purposeful movement, to be a member of a particular species, to be mortal, and so on. And the way that way that Gods are constructed is to take one of these templates, and then change one aspect, so the rest continues to behave in ways we find sensible and “logical”. So a spirit, for example, is a PERSON without a body, but with a PERSON’s interests in other people, social relations, etc etc.

When I read this, my little synapses just went SPROING! The insight had nothing to do with religion. It was the discovery that our brains do object-oriented stuff, subclassing concepts out ones that already exist. All that time I wasted writing python scripts in January turned out not to be wasted after all. You see, there is a God.

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“libertarian trotskyist”

sounds to me like a contradiction that can only be resolved in science fiction: that’s to say, I find great temperamental similarities between programmatic technolibertarians and 60s trots, so I dislike both. Both of them want a universe ruled by alienated young men whose spectacles cannot conceal their brilliant, penetrating gaze. In both cases, an intellectual commitment to liberty is coupled with quite extraordinary intolerance in practice.

I may have to revise this opinion a little since discovering Ken MacLeod, who is commonly described in similar terms. He’s a science fiction writer, much praised in electrolytic circles; and he can manage a mean rant.

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What can we learn from the worm

I have just been filling out an incredibly long and detailed author questionnaire for Columbia University Press. One test was to provide half a dozen questions for journalists to ask who are too lazy busy to read the book. I should have sent them Peter Cook’s take on worms, scanned in below.

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research tool

It’s a hard life being an Opera bigot. Even Mozilla users sneer at you; I’m not sure why, since I am funding an independent and genuinely competitive company, and they are sponging off AOL Time Warner. Perhaps they can afford the computers to run it on.

I started with Opera because v3 (or was it v2?) was small, fast, and reliable when neither IE nor Netscape were. IE is now fast and reliable; Mozilla, apparently, reliable. Opera probably crashes more than either, which is to say about once every two days of heavy usage. But it so deliciously flexible and controllable that I don’t mind, and the lastest goodie, in version 7.10, is just wonderful. Selecting text and then pressing Shift-Ctrl-C copies the selection into a special bookmark hierarchy, in which the text you marked is displayed in one pane, and the link it came from up above. This is a lot like Ecco’s shooter, except that it’s much quicker and it works, which the Shooter has never done for me reliably under Win2k. Since these notes can be organised in folders, and then a folder dragged into a window to open every item in it, this is the perfect way to organise and keep organised research on the web. Did I mention the incremental search box that searches bookmarks, history, or the text of notes as you type into it?

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Going Sane

I’m told I was shouting in my sleep this morning again: “Sex on wheels” and then “I hate myself”. But spring is here, and Sean took a photograph to prove it.

This was meant to be a trouty water, but despite a huge hatch of small, speckle-wing sedges, there was only one trout rising, in a position where it was simply impossible to reach him in the savage wind. The picture does not show that what I’m landing is in fact the biggest chub I’ve ever caught, somewhere between 3.5 and 4 pounds.

Still, I saw a family of deer, a blue jay, a New Forest pony suckling, and a buzzard wheeling so low I could count the individual pinions extended at its wingtips. Sean found a jack pike so lethargic he could poke it with his rod; and saw another seizing a small fish from the surface with such a splash I thought a duck had landed. I think I know what I’ll be doing on Thursday afternoon.

I sent the picture off to the Oxford Union who wanted a publicity picture for a debate I’m doing there on May 8th. Something tells me they’ll use another one instead.

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Calloo! Callay!

O frabjuous day! Felix has got onto his course in stage management at RADA. Only three people are admitted every year. My son the brain surgeon!

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moral philosophy in practice

I’m reading the memoirs of Mary Warnock, whom I hope to profile. She’s the nearest thing to an acknowledged moral arbiter this country has: an Oxford philosopher who has been a member of every important committee for years and years. She wasn’s and wouldn’t claim to be in the first rank of Oxford philosophy; but when you wanted something done in the world, with due attention paid to the philosophical plumbing, Mary Warnock was the woman to do it, most notably in her report on embryo research and IVF. So it’s a bit of a shock to find this story in her memoirs:

The Littles’ children were much the same ages as our eldest two, and we often entrusted our pair to their nanny, while we went and played golf. (This, in retrospect, seems rash: the nanny had had a pre-frontal lobotomy, a fashionable cure for depression in those days, but known to dominish the patients’ moral sense)

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hobbits in mumin valley

I don’t think that Tolkein was one of the greatest writers of the twentieth century, but Tove Jansson just might have been; it turns out that she did the illustrations for an early Swedish translation of the Hobbit. I had a quick poke around the Swedish equivalent of Abebooks, but couldn’t find it there. It’s astonishing that no one has republished it, though.

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To a dinner party, then

With Charles Nevin, Liv O’Hanlon, and Richard Dowden, and Penny Mansfield, old Indie friends and their spouses: in fact Richard and Penny more or less have to stay married, since she runs One to One, which used to be known as the Marriage Research Centre: it’s a think-tank set up by the Catholic psychologist Jack Dominian. Liv, frustrated in her efforts to adopt a child when she married Charles, founded a charity to make adoption easier. She’s reasonable on both sides of the family, you see: Irish and Norwegian. Dowden is one of the best journalists I have ever shared a paper with. He had two perfect anecdotes.

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an anecdote

Not going to post much this weekend: there’s a lot of work on, and we have to go into London tonight for a meal with old friends. But I just found the story of a technological disaster in Rupert’s column which is, I think, entirely new, horrifying, and very funny. Did you realise, that modern mobile phones enable you to be overheard, by your husband, when discussing his sexual performance with a friend?

I keep meaning to reply to Rupert about money and advances, too.

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