Don't protest famed creationist commencement speaker; admire his tenancity in clinging to his beliefs

Emory University students and faculty are upset that renowned Johns Hopkins neurosurgeon, Dr. Ben Carson, will be this year's commencement speaker. Why the fuss? Because Carson's a creationist who denies the validity of the Theory of Evolution. 

In an op-ed column in Sunday's Baltimore Sun, Richard Weikart, scolds the Emory protesters. Among other arguments, Weikart claims that Charles Darwin himself would agree with Carson's belief equating "acceptance of evolution with a lack of ethics and morality."

Weikart ends his column with:

Emory University graduates should feel honored to receive a commencement address from Dr. Carson. Aside from the obvious — his path-breaking surgical techniques and medical expertise that landed him a position at one of the most prestigious academic hospitals in the United States — his life story of overcoming poverty and his subsequent dedication to philanthropy are exemplary and inspirational. His willingness to courageously embrace ideas he considers true, despite the ridicule directed toward him, should count as another point in his favor.

Yes! Let's admire a man who despite the advantage of incredible intelligence and a good education, chooses to ignore science and reason in order to cling to a particularly anti-science and anti-education interpretation of mythology.

And, by all means, let's admire a man who adamantly believes in silly things despite ridicule. Because stubbornly refusing to change your views, no matter how ridiculous, is such a virtue.

Why I'm an atheist

My religious family and friends cannot comprehend how I can be an atheist. I, on the other hand, cannot understand how they can be theists and believe things that not only aren't supported by evidence, but also are often contrary to evidence--and irrational, and sometimes unjust and inhumane too.

Earlier today, I posted this comment on the Pharyngula thread, "Why are you an atheist?" I thought I'd re-post it here. The full story of my transformation from questioning, doubting Catholic school girl to confirmed atheist is longer and more complex than what I wrote in this comment, but it's an accurate summary of why I do not believe in God.

I am an atheist because I'm a skeptic and rationalist. I am not a skeptic and rationalist because I'm an atheist.

Even as a young girl in Catholic school, I was one of those troublesome kids who would actually think about what I was being taught in religion class, ask questions, then say, "But...but..." Because so much of what I was being taught didn't make logical sense to me. And did the adults have evidence that any of it was true? They never had satisfactory answers to my questions. I began to suspect that the adults were just making stuff up.

My inability to accept what I was being taught wasn't helped by the fact that I was well-read, especially for a child growing up in the circumstances I did. I just couldn't mesh what I knew was reality with what the church was claiming.

And, so many Catholic beliefs and practices assailed my innate sense of fairness, justice, and compassion.

For a long time I tried, really really tried, to believe, but I just couldn't make the leap of faith. That time in my life was very depressing and stressful.

Finally, when I was 18, in a single stunning blast of insight, I realized that religion was just rules and rituals made up by fallible men to try to control what other people did, and that there was no evidence that God, who allegedly beamed these rules down from wherever, even existed. So I simply stopped trying to believe the unbelievable. That was it. I've never looked back or felt more at peace.

After the day I stopped trying to believe, I described myself to people as a non-believer, or simply said I didn't belong to a church. I didn't realize I was an "atheist" until I started reading Pharyngula.

Quotation of the day

I never think delusion is okay.
--Barbara Ehrenreich, author of Bright-Sided: How the Relentless Promotion of Positive Thinking Has Undermined America; October 14, 2009 appearance on The Daily Show

Are you a theorist or a reasonist?

This Doonesbury comic, from Sunday, September 6, 2009 is one of my all-time favorites.

Crystal Stick Deodorant: Apparently it's nothing

Knowing my preference for unscented products, my mom just gave me a stick of Crystal Stick Natural Body Deodorant. There seems to be a contradiction between the ingredients list and the hype of the product on the back of the container. 

No doubt in an effort to appeal to those who believe that "chemicals" are bad and “natural” things are good, the description says: "Crystal Stick™ Body Deodorant is made of natural mineral salts and is completely free of perfumes and chemicals.” Oka-a-a-y. 

Since all matter, including pure water and air, are composed of chemicals, I’m left wondering what could possibly be in the container. A vacuum perhaps? 

Ah, no. “Contains: Natural Mineral Salts, Ammonium Alum,” which are chemical substances. Uh-oh. Alert the "chemicals are bad for you" folks.

Someone isn't looking out for me

I badly needed a haircut, but I hadn't felt up to getting one for a while. But today I went to my long-time stylist, Suzie, who I hadn't seen since before my surgery. She asked how I was, and since she didn't seem to remember my previously telling her about the series of events, over a number of months, that eventually led to my cancer diagnosis, I repeated the story.

I told her about the doctors who used their expertise and skill to give me good advice, and my decision at each step to follow the doctors' recommended course of action, even when they all told me that, based on the information they had at the time, the odds that I had cancer were small. So, I told Suzie, the cancer diagnosis was a surprise, even to my doctors, and that the fact that it was found at all was somewhat serendipitous--my surgeon, who thought he was operating on me to remove a benign growth and some precancerous cells, also happened to excise the cancer cells that the previous needle biopsy had missed.

At the conclusion of my story, Suzie chirped cheerfully, "Someone was looking out for you!"

"If 'Someone' was really 'looking out' for me, I wouldn't have cancer in the first place," I countered.

I could see from Suzie's face that she tried to make sense of my comment, but I never found out if she really grasped my meaning.