thoughts on life and liberty

Extraterrestrial Life

Life on other planets—does it exist?  We want to know.  Why?  Perhaps we suspect that life on this planet is ultimately doomed and so we hope that the opportunity for life exists elsewhere.  Is it that we simply find life fascinating, and any new exotic form tickles our wonder?  Is it because we are looking for a greater intelligence from which we may learn?  Are we seeking new friends?

Whatever the driver, this idea of life on other planets tickles our curiosity—particularly that of atheists.  But there is no direct evidence that extraterrestrial life exists.  Existing clues merely suggest plausibility.  Statistically speaking it may seem likely.  But at the moment, there is no solid reason to believe in ET life.  And yet curiosity persists.

Look at the science fiction films that atheist nerds so adore.  This ET life motif is so thoroughly pervasive in these stories, e.g., Star Trek and Star Wars.  I suspect that if it was somehow proven that life only exists on Earth that these tales would be robbed of their soul; they would no longer be compelling, rendered irrelevant and uninteresting. Atheist sci-fi fans would be desperately saddened with this revelation.

There is no proof for ET life, and yet as long as there exists no proof that it does not exist, our curiosity is not dissuaded.

After all, isn’t speculation with regard to the plausible, yet not provable, kind of what makes science fiction interesting?

In fact, one might say that the possibility of ET life seems so plausible and even so likely that to not be at least a little curious would be arrogant geocentrism.

Layered Reality

We derive the term atom from the Greek atomos which literally means “not cuttable”.  The funny thing is that, as we use the word today, it is a misnomer.  Once upon a time it was thought that the atom was the lowest level of reality, but we now know that it is not.  Atoms are composed of electrons, protons, and neutrons.  Additionally, protons and neutrons are made up of quarks.  Calling an atom “atom” was premature satisfaction that we had “found it”.

But science will never be satisfied that it has finally discovered the lowest foundation of reality.  Why should it?  In retrospect we see that up to the present, to have stopped at any stage of this exploration would have been grave error.  The deeper we explore, the more we uncover.  We can’t stop searching.  We see that our tenacious curiosity has served us very very well.

And yet, in this quest, do we not expect to eventually encounter the “not cuttable” particle?  This grand stage set on which all things do what they do, that we call the universe, must have a floor or a wall somewhere, right?

In the final scene of the Truman Show, the bow of Truman’s boat literally pierces a hole in the wall of his universe.  What is his reaction?  Is he satisfied that he has discovered the edge of the world and so he goes home?  No, he beats his fist against the wall in frustration and then finds the door that leads him off the stage to a layer of reality entirely new to him.

What will we do when we run into the wall of our universe?  Is that where we throw our hands up in the air and our curiosity stops?

Of course not.

This reality that we perceive—is that all that there is, or is there something beyond?

Another recurring sci-fi theme is the notion that the reality presented to us isn’t the only one, e.g., The Matrix and The Truman Show.  As is the case with ET life, there is no direct evidence of any layer of reality other than our own, and yet atheist sci-fi fans continually indulge their curiosity with the possibility that there might be.  Again, these stories would be rendered irrelevant if it was somehow proven that our reality was it.

We know how plausible is the notion of multiple layers of seemingly real existence because, technologically speaking, we are so close to creating it ourselves.  We know that it is only a matter of time before technology allows us to directly project virtual reality on the mind.  The direct neural virtual reality experience of The Matrix is coming.  Imagine only ever existing in the virtual reality world depicted in The Matrix, yet seeking the foundation of that “reality” just as scientists do with our reality here and now.  You would eventually break reality down into bits in computer memory or pixels on some finite resolution display apparatus, and then have no access whatsoever to the underlying system that makes the bit or pixel seem real.

Perhaps quarks are the bits and pixels of our reality?  Maybe, maybe not.  Doesn’t matter.  When we finally discover the bits and pixels of our universe, not only will we not feel satisfied in “finding it”, we will desperately look for the system that makes those bits and pixels real to us.  And, in fact, atheist sci-fi fans haven’t waited for the exploration of quantum mechanics to stall; they are already speculating.

Again, science fiction literature speculates with regard to the plausible, yet not provable.  To speculate about multiple layers of reality seems entirely reasonable for a rational atheist.

There is no proof for multiple reality layers, and yet as long as there exists no proof that they do not exist, our curiosity is not dissuaded.

Knowing how plausible it is to create a perceived alternative reality with technology, it would seem to indicate not only arrogance to conclude with certainty that our universe is, in fact, the only layer of existence, but also a profound lack of curiosity.

What About God?

So what is God?  Isn’t God a combination of these two speculative sci-fi motifs?  Isn’t the idea of God merely an ET life form existing at another layer of reality?  Is it outside the bounds of plausible rationality to speculate on the possibility?

What confuses the matter is that, in our world, theism is almost entirely predicated on manuscripts such as the Old Testament, the New Testament, the Book of Mormon, and/or the Koran—manuscripts thought to be inspired.  Smart people have subjected all of this literature to rigorous criticism, and to atheists it all reads as something less than divine—a collection of stories loaded with insoluble contradiction that impresses as, frankly, purely human weakness: pride, envy, greed, and wrath.  And hell, if religion demands reverence for a God that actually writes this stuff then they are damned by their own thought-crime; they are incapable of sincerely respecting and worshipping such a God.

So it seems pretty clear that an intelligent atheist cannot honestly believe or endorse this stuff.  It’s all superstitious mythology written by not-so-thoughtful people—just normal everyday people.  If you’re one of The Smart Kids, you are out on this crap, right?

BUT!  The fact is that existing manifestations of theistic belief have nothing whatsoever to do with the reasonableness of theistic curiosities.  It may very well be that these individuals who believed strongly enough in God to write the literature were wrong in their writings; maybe they were batshit insane.  But what if those writers were just the sci-fi fanatics of their day?  What if it was all mere speculation on their part?  Should we be so dead set against these unconvincing manuscripts that we completely dismiss any curiosity with regard to the existence of God?

Would this not be something like someone 2,000 years from now saying, “ET life can’t possibly exist; look at how dumb those Star Wars movies were!”

The Smart Kids

Atheism is the domain of The Smart Kids.

Atheists may indulge their curiosity with regard to ET life and multiple reality layers (notions for which no proof one way or another exists) without fear of derision.  They do it all the time.  But if you combine the two and wonder as to the existence of God, then The Smart Kids will consider you an ignoramus.

On this point, have committed atheists arbitrarily stifled their natural curiosity?

Atheists typically highly value open-minded, plausible, rational pursuits of curiosity.  Atheists are welcome to speculate, and even write stories, about ET life and multiple reality layers, stuff for which no proof exists one way or another.  That’s all cool.  You can be curious about these things and you get to stay in The Smart Kids Club.  But if you just take it one step further and wonder whether or not there might be a higher layer of reality, and whether or not someone in that layer wields a lot of control over our layer, namely God, then you get kicked out of The Smart Kids Club.

It may very well be reasonable to dismiss existing religion, manuscripts thought to be divine, and any obligation or fear attached to any of these things.  But does that also mean that mere curiosity as to the existence of God is despicably irrational?

Is the derision related to rational inquiry at all?

Collective Identity vs. Inquiry

Growing up in a Christian household, I was frustrated with the questions that I was not allowed to ask.  Rational inquiry was suppressed with the threat of exile.  There were questions that you weren’t allowed to ask, or even if you did ask them, you weren’t allowed to pursue them diligently.  Questions such as:

How is the Bible inerrant when these passages so clearly contradict themselves?

How is it inspired when it is clearly in error?

How can God know the future perfectly and yet experience so much frustration and anger with what was already known would transpire?  

When I asked these question, people would question my devotion to God.  I was a “doubter”.  I didn’t have enough faith.  If I pushed too hard people would say, “I’m not sure that you’re really a Christian when you ask questions like that.”  The message was that I was not allowed to ask these questions if I was going to be allowed to remain in The Christian Club.

And this makes sense.  Religion, like any other collective group, has to protect its identity.  If they let just anyone call themselves Christian, the idea of “being a Christian” becomes meaningless.

And so I had to drop out of The Christian Club.  I became an atheist.

So atheists correctly note that religious people are more interested in finding a community of like-minded people with whom they identify than in actually seeking truth.  But have atheists themselves managed to escape this same inclination?

What is the atheist’s priority?

It seems that maybe even people who don’t believe in God need a community with which they can identify and engage in fellowship—a community with a doctrinal statement of acceptable beliefs.  A lot of people need this, and that’s fine.  Just don’t call it intellectual.  Don’t call it open-minded.  Don’t call it scientific inquiry.  Call it what it is: collective identity.

As for me, I’m an atheist and I don’t go to church—either the kind with God or without God.

Being an American means recognizing that America is primarily an idea, not a plot of land, and not an order of authority and rule.

Being an American does not imply collective identity.

Being an American is not about national pride.

Being an American does not mean the inheritance of, or the obligation to adhere to, any particular culture.

Being an American does not mean particular privilege.

Being an American does not mean that I have special, particular “American” rights that only apply to “Americans”.

Being an American does not mean an inheritance of moral superiority.

Being an American means realizing that people throughout the world can also be American if they embrace the American idea.

Being an American means recognizing that the government itself  is not America, even if its behavior happens to be consistent with America.

Being an American does not demand that I must acknowledge the government, its policy, its police, or its military as American.

Being an American sometimes means that I condemn government policy that is specifically not American.

Being an American means that I take pride in my own achievements.

Being an American means that I alone accept responsibility for my failures.

Being an American does not mean that I get credit for the good things that other people do who call themselves American.

Being an American does not mean that I am responsible for the bad things that other people do who call themselves American.

Being  an American means that I don’t expect to like all Americans.

Being an American means I don’t expect all Americans to like me.

Being an American means that I do what I want to do.

Being an American means that I allow others to do what they want to do as long as it doesn’t harm others.

Being an American means that I will never use force on peaceful people merely because I don’t like them or how they choose to live their lives.

Being an American means that I will never force peaceful people to do something simply because I believe that it is the “right thing” for them to do.

Being an American means that I will condemn the use of force against peaceful people—even if I don’t like like them, and even if most others don’t like them.

Being an American means I that I stand prepared to defend myself and that which is mine against violent aggressors.

Being an American means that I approve of others who stand prepared to defend themselves and that which is theirs against violent aggressors; as a fellow American, I may even help defend them.

Being an American means that I don’t stop other people from doing what they want to do because I know that they, as Americans, will also not stop me from doing what I want to do.

Rightful liberty is unobstructed action according to our will within limits drawn around us by the equal rights of others.

—Thomas Jefferson

There is a flavor of political activism for every belief, background, or personal preference. We have them for gays, Christians, atheists, gun lovers, Jews, gun haters, women, Muslims, homeschoolers, public school teachers, children, families, poor people, businesspeople, environmentalists, etc.

Almost all of these movements arose out of a condition of encroachment, oppression, or violence. This means that most of these groups began with an excellent cause and were justified in their advocacy. The problem is that most of these niche movements will continue to exist and operate long after they have achieved justice and fairness. The reason is that these advocacy groups were never founded on any kind of a rational principle, rather they were founded on the basis of self-interest—a group of people were not happy with the way things were working out for them. But self-interest is no ethical principle at all. Unrestrained self-interest is the lack of ethical principle. At first this seems obvious, but it gets fuzzy when self-interest and ethical principle happen to overlap.

Consider two activist causes that start good, yet sour.

The Religious

Good: A totalitarian regime sees religion as a danger—a higher authority threatens their claim to power.  Religious assembly is outlawed, and participants are imprisoned or executed.  The religious, because their peaceful congregation does violence to nobody, justifiably campaign for their interests.  Say their campaign is successful.  Maybe they defeat their oppressors via democratic election or revolution.  Perhaps they move to new territory and establish a safe haven settlement for their practice.  One way or another they overcome oppression and are now free to practice their religion without fear.  This is good.

So the political campaign for religious interest ought to disband, because they have defeated the threat to their rights.  They may resume their religious practice in peace.  They ought to recognize that they are done.  But the campaign not only does not stop; it, in fact, becomes more aggressive.

Bad: Why settle for merely being allowed to practice religion in peace when you can agitate for the invocation of state power to advance your religious interests?  If you seek to maximize conversion to your religion, it becomes tempting to utilize government force to promote your beliefs and impede competing beliefs.  Or maybe you remember the oppression of the religious and you simply want to use force to fend off anything that looks like it might turn into a threat one day, whether that be other religion, or secular associations—a preemptive strike, so to speak, to smother the threat before it becomes one.  Let’s do it to them before they do it to us.  Perhaps you want to outlaw certain types of sexual behavior that are incompatible with your religion.  Maybe you want to outlaw public displays of sinful sexuality.  Or maybe you want government to promote your religious literature at the public’s expense, while banning literature that mocks and denigrates your religious belief system.

At this point, the campaign for religion has crossed a very objective line.  While it once merely defended the right to peacefully operate, it now agitates for measures that impede other’s rights to peacefully operate.

What went wrong?  The problem is that this religious campaign was never rooted in the principle that people have the right to conduct their affairs in peace as long as this conduct does not impede anyone else’s right to conduct their affairs in peace—the principle of liberty.  Instead, it was rooted in a more simplistic principle: what is good for my religion is what is right—the principle of self-interest.  Period.  Initially, liberty and self-interest overlapped, so the political campaign for religious rights was just.  But once liberty was attained, agitation for additional political measures beneficial to religious self-interest actually became evil.

The Secular

The same can example can be used for secular advocacy.

Good: A totalitarian regime utilizes religion to justify their claim to power—denial of that religion’s legitimacy threatens the regime’s claim to power.  Religious allegiance is a legal requirement.  Failure to pay homage to the church via service attendance, display of symbols, or financial offering leads to a conviction of heresy that is tantamount to treason.  These heretics are imprisoned or executed.  The secular, opposed to supporting this institution with time, money, or endorsement, justifiably campaign for their interests.  Say their campaign is successful.  Maybe they defeat their oppressors via democratic election or revolution.  Perhaps they move to new territory and establish a safe haven settlement where they are free to live in the absence of religious dictate.  One way or another they overcome oppression and are now free to dismiss religion without fear.  This is good.

So the political campaign for secular interest ought to disband, because they have defeated the threat to their rights.  They may resume their secular life in peace.  They ought to recognize that they are done.  But the campaign not only does not stop; it, in fact, becomes more aggressive.

Bad: Why settle for merely being allowed to live your life in peace, free of religious dictate, when you can agitate for the invocation of state power to advance your interests in a secular society?  If your vision is that of a world free of meddlesome Christians pestering you to pray, or to attend Church—a world where intellectual inquiry is no longer hindered by fears of The Great Sky Ghost, it becomes tempting to utilize government force to promote intellectual inquiry and to impede superstitious nonsense.  Or maybe you remember the oppression by the religious and you simply want to use force to fend off anything that looks like it might turn into a threat one day, whether that be religion, or an overly passionate dedication to any authority or belief system—a preemptive strike, so to speak, to smother the threat before it becomes one.  Let’s do it to them before they do it to us.  Perhaps you want to outlaw mean sounding talk of eternal damnation for sinful behavior.  Maybe you want to outlaw public displays of religion that impress you as hateful.  Or maybe you want government to promote your atheist literature at the public’s expense, while banning literature that  preaches anti-scientific nonsense that confuses people and distracts them from truth.

At this point, the campaign for secularism has crossed a very objective line.  While it once merely defended the right to peacefully operate, it now agitates for measures that impede other’s rights to peacefully operate.

What went wrong?  The problem is that this secular campaign was never rooted in the principle that people have the right to conduct their affairs in peace as long as this conduct does not impede anyone else’s right to conduct their affairs in peace—the principle of liberty.  Instead, it was rooted in a more simplistic principle: what is good for my secularism is what is right—the principle of self-interest.  Period.  Initially, liberty and self-interest overlapped, so the political campaign for secular rights was just, initially.  But once liberty was attained, agitation for additional political measures beneficial to secular self-interest actually became evil.

But We’re The Good Guys

We have this nasty tendency to pick sides and to then cheerlead for that side, sometimes literally, to the death.  Religious people are the good guys because they have truth on their side.  The secular are the good guys because they have truth on their side.  The Americans are the good guys because America is “exceptional”.  A particular ethnic group is made up of good guys because they have been the oppressed underdogs for a long time.

Our enthusiasm for “our team” causes us to lose sight of any principle that might have initially justified our advocacy.  The “goodness” of our team is a bygone conclusion—because we are good, anything that advances our interests is automatically good.  And so, because we are the good guys, we reserve for ourselves “good guy” privileges, namely the privilege to use force on other people.

That is horseshit.  The goodness or badness of an activist cause is continually a matter to judge.  Good or evil is never inherent.  A thing’s moral status is continually a matter of behavior, not what it is, where it came from, or what it represents.  You might stand for something that is good, but once you resort to force to realize your vision, you become evil.

While I only present two examples here, if you consider any other political advocacy group, they virtually all continue to pursue political power even after they have attained their liberty.  Liberty isn’t enough for them.  They want to wield political force against others.  And this force takes multiple forms.  It may be as extreme as launching military force, or as seemingly mild as spending another’s tax dollars on something they do not approve of.  It is evil oppression in either case.

I have friends from all over the political spectrum who urge me to sign up to support a particular niche political advocacy group.  And honestly, many of these groups are operating mostly at the “good” stage, but they still show signs of crossing to the dark side.  It is in their DNA to “go evil” because they were not founded on the principle of attaining liberty, but on the principle of self-interest.

Just Stop

Once a political activist movement achieves liberty, it needs to stop.  It has achieved its goal.  This doesn’t mean that a movement may not continue to peacefully educate, and persuade. It is simply to say that a movement seeking to lobby government has to stop once they have rescued themselves from forceful oppression—they have attained liberty.

A force for good cannot become the very thing that it abhors in its oppressors.  Remember, your oppressor believes that he is the good guy as well.

There is no denying that the Occupy Wall Street movement is a powerful
phenomenon. There is also no denying that they have some legitimate
grievances.

If I had a chance, I would like to communicate to members of OWS that
the Federal Reserve is easily the most dangerous part of the 1%. The
Reserve’s policy of creating money devalues the savings accounts of
the 99% and encourages debt. It encourages conspicuous, wasteful
consumerism. The cheap credit credited by new money benefits the 1%
at the expense of the 99%.

The slideshow explains it best:

http://www.matt.com/SlideShow/

An entertaining illustration of the irrationality of collectivist thinking.

The United Nations is considering a proposal that would grant the Earth rights similar to those of humans.

What is a right?  Where does it come from?  Perhaps Merriam-Webster can help:

• right: something to which one has a just claim (So what makes a claim just?)
• just: acting or being in conformity with what is morally upright or good (What is moral?)
• moral: conforming to a standard of right behavior (What is right?  Oh crap.  That’s where we started.  And where do we get this “standard” from?)

Useless.

If you’re a theist, and you believe that God has revealed to us rights and wrongs, it’s simple; God grants and ultimately enforces those rights.

What if you don’t believe in God?

Here is the dark truth.  Unless God exists, there is no reason to believe that anything within our universe has the authority to dictate a “standard of right behavior” that applies to everything in the universe.  If you are atheist/agnostic, and you insist that such a standard does in fact exist, then I have to ask, “Where does it come from?”  But there is no place for it to come from because there is no authority to serve as the origin of such an ultimate standard.  Since there is nothing from which the standard could originate, it did not originate, and therefore it doesn’t exist.  The only way such a standard can exist is if you accept the reality of a supernatural overriding force or entity that serves as the origin of an ultimate “standard of right behavior”; now you are back to believing in God.

One might reply, “So that means that in the absence of God you are allowed to do whatever you want to anyone or anything?”  To that I would say, “Yes!  I am!”  No transcendent authority exists to say otherwise.

But one thing that does exist is happiness.  We are born with the inclination to not only survive and reproduce, but to maximize our satisfaction and minimize our suffering.  While I may be “allowed” to do anything I want to anyone, operating with absolutely no restraint is not the smartest thing to do if I want to maximize my happiness.  And the reason is that humans are powerful.

No living thing poses as much a threat to my happiness as another human.  Humans are dangerous.  Any healthy adult would find it very easy to kill me, hurt me, or ruin my property or my life.  At the same time, I could do the same thing to just about any other human.  We humans live in a state of perpetual vulnerability to each other.

On the other hand, no other living thing possesses as much potential to contribute to my happiness.  Other humans compose music, love me, entertain me, grow food, laugh with me, play with me, pay me, write literature, create art, have sex with me, teach me, and fascinate me.

So while we are “allowed” to do anything to anyone or anything, at some point in our history we humans recognized that restraint in our interaction with one another makes life much safer and much more enjoyable.  It makes us happier.  ”Right” is not a standard from on high.  ”Right” is whatever approach promises to maximize my happiness.

Even though we don’t all agree on what makes us happy as individuals, we have been able to isolate a couple of broad shared principles that serve as foundational components of our happiness with human civilization: We have a right to our property (including our own bodies) and the expectation that other people will not touch it without our permission, and we have the right to expect others to do everything that they have agreed to do.  All other “rights” that we talk about extend from those two foundational principles.

And if someone says, “I don’t agree with those rights, because there is no authority to dictate them,” he can do that.  The problem for him is that to the extent that he abandons restraint and violates other people’s bodies or their property, other humans will abandon their restraint with respect to him.  By going “outlaw” you expose yourself to the danger of unrestrained human force.  Most people opt not to do this because it would not maximize their happiness.

So if you don’t believe in God what are rights?  In the ultimate sense, they don’t exist at all.  But with respect to other humans they exist because we invented them for each other. Humans invented rights for each other because they realized that there is more happiness to be gained in interacting peacefully with other humans—the most powerful organisms we know of—rather than forcefully.  There is no cosmic system of accountability that demands that we respect these made-up rights, it just tends to work out best for us if we do.  And so we do.

But this relationship we have with other humans is unique.  In terms of our relationships with other living things and natural resources we often find that the most happiness we have to gain is in forcefully harnessing them.  We do not generally maximize our happiness with respect to chickens in granting them a right to live.  It generally makes us happier to forcefully deprive them of their life and to eat them.  And so we do.  We do not generally maximize our happiness with respect to the earth in leaving no mark upon it.  It generally makes us happier to mine and drill it for resources.  And so we do.

Still, there is happiness to be had in conserving the Earth’s resources.  We are mesmerized by vast expanses of unadulterated landscape.  Our curiosity is captivated by the complex inner-workings of an ecosystem that—while arising spontaneously—operates incredibly well, feeding and sustaining itself, with little malfunction.  We are pleased with the maximization of happiness even in the animals we raise for food.  We prefer that the animals we eat live happy rather than miserable lives.  And we do not want to consume resources so quickly that we create a crisis of shortage.

Balancing the happiness derived from the conversion of natural resources into useful products with the happiness derived from an unmolested ecosystem is difficult.  But before we can begin to discuss this balance we need to frankly admit to ourselves that it is not a question of ethics, rights, or morality.  We made up rights for ourselves because it works for us, not because we are subservient to any cosmic system of justice, which does not exist.

The vast majority of humanity is not convinced that making up rights for the Earth would make us happier.  So we don’t do it.  And if this means that we humans are selfish—concerned only with our happiness—there is no problem because neither the Earth nor the universe will hold us accountable for our self-centeredness.

And if, in the face of all human opposition, some people still maintain that the Earth has rights, then they will have to admit to themselves that they have faith in the existence of a higher order that does dictate a standard of rights, ethics, and justice.  Most people do, and we call them theists.

Anyone who asserts that the Earth has rights is operating on the basis of faith in a supernatural authority.

There is no rational atheistic argument for the inherent rights of the Earth.

Charles Davis suggests that they should.  He says that Ron Paul…

…would – and this is important, I think – stop killing poor foreigners with cluster bombs and Predator drones. Unlike the Nobel Peace Prize winner-in-chief, Paul would also bring the troops home from not just Afghanistan and Iraq, but Europe, Korea and Okinawa. There’d be no need for a School of the Americas because the U.S. wouldn’t be busy training foreign military personnel the finer points of human rights abuses. Israel would have to carry out its war crimes on its own dime.

Even on on the most pressing domestic issues of the day, Paul strikes me as a hell of a lot more progressive than Obama. Look at the war on drugs: Obama has continued the same failed prohibitionist policies as his predecessors, maintaining a status quo that has placed 2.3 million – or one in 100 – Americans behind bars, the vast majority African-American and Hispanic. Paul, on the other hand, has called for ending the drug war and said he would pardon non-violent offenders, which would be the single greatest reform a president could make in the domestic sphere, equivalent in magnitude to ending Jim Crow.

Davis notes the leftist’s readiness to abandon principle, as long as that principle is defiled by their own man:

Democratic partisans – liberals – are willing to trade the lives of a couple thousand poor Pakistani tribesman in exchange for a few liberal catnip-filled speeches and NPR tote bags for the underprivileged…liberals, especially the pundit class, don’t much care about dead foreigners. They’re a political problem at best – will the Afghan war derail Obama’s re-election campaign? – not a moral one. And liberals are more than willing to accept a few charred women and children in some country they’ll never visit in exchange for increasing social welfare spending by 0.02 percent, or at least not cutting it by as much as a mean ‘ol Rethuglican.

We are so consumed with fighting for our side that we are apathetic when our own party abandons our core principles.  This touches on a post I made a while back on the danger of the us vs. them mentality.

You don’t get cosmic moral credit by association. If you believe that something “ought to be done” about any issue, it isn’t enough to merely associate with a particular church, organization, or political party. T-shirts and bumper stickers (and even blog posts) don’t change the world. The only measure of how much a person cares is how much they do.

Government is the abusive spouse toward whom we persist in love.  We know that that the relationship is unhealthy and against our own best interest, but we refuse to abandon hope.  Even when we have no reason to trust the rhetoric, the promises, and the assurances, we believe.  We have a will to believe, and so we do.

The right continues to believe even when their man expands spending faster than the left.

The left continues to believe even when their man, on foreign policy, is virtually indistinguishable from George W. Bush, the man they revile.

Obama embraces the drag war.

Bush embraced the welfare state.

This is not new.

Ronald Reagan raised taxes.

Not only did Lyndon Baines Johnson expand the war in Vietnam, he did it under false pretext.

History teaches us that, regardless of rhetoric, government expands in every way, and never contracts.  So if the government is involved in anything that you do not approve of, you can be virtually sure that they will continue to spend more of your dollars on that very thing.  It does not matter who you elect.  This will not change.

Almost everyone says that politicians are opportunistic and untrustworthy—we have plenty of experience to reinforce this assertion—and yet with our pet politician, we replace that cynicism with faith.  But that faith contradicts what experience tells us; it is the nature of government to expand and it will not do otherwise.

We need to reevaluate our confidence in any individual politician, in any political party, and in the political system as we know it.

Cracked published an excellent article entitled 5 Reasons Humanity is Terrible at Democracy. It is a very entertaining—yet disturbing—read.  The article shows that the typical person’s thought process is so biased and distorted into a hypocritical, narcissistic, nonsensical mess by sensationalist, collectivist propaganda and cheerleading that little hope exists for the average voter to make decisions in the interest of “the greater good”.

The article touches on several of the points I make in my essay on the dangers of a collectivist mindset.