Little faith in God, politics or religions of peace
I’m leafing through some readers’ questions. Many seem a little abstract, as if they had been composed during the summer doldrums at the cottage. Here’s one that’s outright metaphysical:
“You have written you aren’t an atheist, George, but you’ve also written you’re not religious. Don’t you have to be one or the other?”
Well, no. I’m not an atheist for the same reason I’m not a theist. A believer, whatever his religion, must assume there is a God, while a denier must assume there isn’t. I don’t know enough to assume one way or the other. To be a denier requires the same faith in the non-existence of a higher being as a believer requires for a higher being’s existence. A person needs more faith than I have for both belief and denial.
Not having enough faith to be either an atheist or a believer, I’m an agnostic. This means having faith in not knowing enough for an opinion on creation’s mystery.
The next reader’s question is quite different — but on second thought, maybe it isn’t. He, too, asks about my belief in something I couldn’t possibly know, and I doubt if anyone could.
This reader writes: “I bet you’re one of those snotty people who think Donald Trump can’t be elected president of the United States.”
Hmm. Actually, I’m one of those snotty people who thinks he can be, although it’s a hell of a long shot, even in America. I must admit that, as recently as a few months ago, I thought of Donald Trump only as a joke, or at most as Hillary Clinton’s secret weapon, the man who might do for her presidency what Ross Perrot did for her husband’s.
Trump, whether he’s worth $10 billion or only $4 billion, is rich enough to finance a run for the presidency as a third-party candidate, perhaps sucking away enough Re- publican votes to assure Clinton’s victory if the Democrats nominate her, which is all but certain at this point. What is far from certain, but increasingly possible, is that Donald may not have to run under the flag of his billions alone. As the summer wears on, the Republicans may decide to hold their snotty noses and actually nominate Donald the Clown to carry the elephantine banner into battle, in the hope of seeing him prevail over Clinton’s asinine troops.
Is that what I think will happen? Well, in the best of all possible worlds, Trump’s unexpected showing would spur the Republicans into selecting a candidate who is able to run with the issues he put on the agenda, but run with them in more respectable ways. In such a world, Trump would acquiesce to his party’s choice and support a plausible candidate, in exchange for a cabinet post or committee chairmanship of some kind.
But this isn’t the best of all possible worlds. Anyone capable of such party discipline wouldn’t be a maverick like Trump and would hardly achieve the profile he has achieved. The person who might accept such a deal from his party elders is unlikely to find himself in a position to be offered it.
This leaves the following alternatives, in order of probability: 1 the Trump volcano cools and subsides as the campaign wears on as inexplicably as it erupted; 2 Trump does a Ross Perrot with the same results, handing the presidency to the next Clinton in line; 3 Trump runs as an independent and actually wins, bringing America under the management of the nearest thing to Barnum and Bailey; 4 Trump defies another set of odds and gets the Republican nomination — then loses ignominiously against Lady MacClinton; 5 Trump does the ultimate improbable, gets the Republican nomination and wins, bringing America under the management of the Ringling Brothers and their Pachyderms; and 6 the remotest possibility, that both Democrats and Republicans come to their senses and nominate candidates other than Clinton and Trump, and have a serious election instead of a circus.
“Mr. Jonas, do you agree,” the next correspondent asks, “that Islam stands for peace and mercy?”
Well, all major religions stand for peace and mercy, which never stopped some of their followers from acting in bellicose and merciless ways. Christianity stands for turning the other cheek, but this didn’t prevent Christian rulers from launching nine crusades between the 11th and 13th centuries to wrest the Holy Land from Islam.
In our days it’s Islam that has been influenced by a militant and crusading spirit. Opinions may vary as to why this is so, but closing one’s eyes to it is daft. So is responding in kind. After 9/11, when the bodies of nearly 3,000 Americans lay mixed with cement dust in lower Manhattan, some people were tempted to turn the Muslim mobs that cheered the devastation into a similar substance. It seemed easier than hunting down terrorists: it’s always simpler to set fire to a haystack than to look for a needle in it. To the credit of Western civilization (as I wrote at the time), this option was never even contemplated.
I’m not an atheist for the same reason I’m not a theist: I don’t know enough to assume one way or the other