The Pursuit of Happiness

My speech at an Interfaith Dialogue in September 2017, alongside a Christian And Muslim Speaker at La Trobe University.

The 2017 poster of the Interfaith Event at La Trobe University.

I acknowledge and pay my respects to the Traditional Custodians and Elders of this nation, past, present and emerging; and to the continued cultural and community practices of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples.
Based up indigenous.gov.au and Reconciliation Australia

I begin with an Acknowledgement of Country because it is appropriate. Similarly, I am wearing a ‘Vote Yes’ T-shirt tonight not to confront people regarding the same-sex marriage postal vote, but because the T-Shirt and the AOC are pertinent to what I will be saying.

My name is Geoff and I am an atheist and humanist. Thank you for the opportunity to speak tonight at your Interfaith Dialogue, although I should start with some clarifications and definitions.

Unlike Islam, Christianity and other religions, atheism is not a faith position. It is the exact opposite – a lack of belief in a god or gods. Beyond that, there is no singular ‘atheist position’ on any issue or argument, which is probably why we generally do not have atheist churches or many social groups. Atheist views are as diverse as are the background cultures and societies of atheists around the world. Therefore, I am not here to give ‘the’ atheist perspective on happiness but simply one individual atheist perspective – my own.

Many atheists subscribe to humanism, an outlook that provides the foundation for much of our modern, secular world, and of our understandings of human rights, humanitarian charities, the humane treatment of animals, and a recognition of our common humanity.

In the words of Shakespeare: “What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god.”

This is not some subverted form of religious worship inverted back upon the human ego, but an evidentiary recognition that humans have singular capabilities to solve the problems of the world – and a related responsibility to do so.

Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. We all know the words and understand that these are three things to which humans presumable aspire. But what exactly is happiness? How might atheists and humanists view happiness?

In the words of one old song, happiness means different things to different people. We all understand and emotionally connect when we see the happiness on the face of a smiling, giggling baby; we all laugh when a friend shares a funny joke; we are all susceptible to the charms of advertisers who tell us that our lives will be happier if we purchase their product.

But happiness as an emotion is transitory and fleeting. It is unreliable and can be deceptive. I have been told by believers that their faith makes them happy or that, conversely, if they lost their faith, their lives would feel empty and unfulfilled. Either way, they are equating their religion with their happiness as some sort of supposed evidence of their faith. I have two problems with such a position. Firstly, as an atheist, my lack of belief gives me an equal sense of happiness and fulfillment – and I recall a Christian friend who admitted to me, a year after I lost my faith, that she could see that I had never been happier. So you with your beliefs and I with my non-belief may feel equally happy, but we cannot both be right.

Secondly, alcoholics and drug addicts find happiness in substance abuse. They actually feel happy even as they potentially destroy their lives or the lives of others. Their example shows me that the emotion of happiness is not a measure of whether something is necessarily good or bad, right or wrong, true or false.

But there is more to happiness than the emotional state. Happiness is also a sense of well being and fulfilment that comes about when our physical and psychological welfare needs are met. In his book ‘The Expanding Circle’, ethicist Peter Singer explores the evolution of our sense of welfare as both individuals and as a collective human society. Singer writes that reason leads to the principle that “one’s own interests are one among many sets of interests”, and that none of these other sets of interests are ordinarily more or less important than our own.

As we individually grow from childhood to adulthood, we learn that our welfare is interdependent with that of others around us. As children, we learn that the welfare of our siblings and parents is inextricably bound to our own. Beyond that, we learn similarly of our school friends, our neighbourhoods, our churches and other social circles, then ultimately of our nation and the world.

Such growth in understanding can also be seen in collective human societies as they evolve from small hunter gatherer clans, to larger city states, and beyond into widespread national and trans-national identities. Indeed, recent human understandings have expanded our welfare concerns to include those of animals and of the environment.

I view the holy books of the three Abrahamic religions as literary products of their pre-industrial and pre-enlightenment societies, conflating tribalism with particular religions, and concerning themselves with the preservation of those cultural identities. I also see that the world is evolving beyond such tribalism, and increasing numbers of people see religion as providing insufficient foundation for our identities as digital and global citizens. In response, and despite their insistence upon tradition, religions adapt and evolve in order to survive, as does all of human society.

This brings me back, full circle, to my beginning, with my Acknowledgement of Country, which recognises that everything we do can impact upon other people’s lives in ways that are positive, negative and neutral. My country also currently incarcerates refugees and asylum seekers in concentration camps under conditions that are cruel and inhumane. How can humanists respond to such injustice?

As a part answer, I offer my T-shirt, which concerns itself with the same-sex postal vote. I wear this ‘yes’ T-shirt with pride, fully aware that there may be others in this auditorium who disagree. But I ask for your indulgence in a quick thought experiment. If, instead of same-sex couples, the postal vote was asking us about another minority group. What if it asked whether Jews should enjoy equal rights in Australia? Or Muslims? Asian Australians? Catholics? Indigenous Australians? How would you vote then? I would hope that you might vote for equality and compassion, in recognition of our common humanity – as though your brother’s or sister’s human rights were under question, because indeed they are.

In all these cases, I would still vote the same way and still wear this T-shirt with equal pride, because I believe – as I hope you do – that we are all equal in worth and dignity, and should be entitled to equal protection under the law. Our entitlement to happiness as living, thinking beings, surely compels us to work towards the mutually beneficial welfare of all.

We are all here at university because we recognise that we do not and cannot know everything, but we wish to learn skills that will enable us to research wisely, to think critically, and to reach informed and reasoned, evidence-based conclusions as part of our individual journey towards becoming empowered global citizens. You may believe in an afterlife – I do not – but I hope that we share a similar desire to do our bit to help create a bit of heaven here on Earth, because our minds give us the capacity to do so and our conscience compels us to act.

Caring for the welfare of others, and working towards that end, helps to create fulfilled individuals and produces a society wherein an optimal amount of happiness might be created for all. My own quest for happiness inspires me to work for the happiness of others, as I hope your journey may similarly inspire you.

© 2021 Geoff Allshorn

I Am Not Free…

“As a woman, I have no country. As a woman, my country is the whole world.”
—Virginia Woolf

For Women’s Equality Day, 26 August 2021

Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

In recent days, the world has been shocked by the downfall of Afghanistan and the abandonment of millions of Afghan lives by the USA and its military allies – a betrayal of human rights that is a bad omen in particular for women, LGBT people and atheists. The invisibility of women under the Taliban, and the callousness with which the secular or Christian west has turned its back on these women, should be a cause for despair by any person of good will. The world needs a better standard of leaders and a better future to which we can aspire. That future starts closer to home, in our own lives and attitudes.

In 2012, the Global Atheist Convention attracted two sets of protesters who chose to partition themselves in separate doorways to the convention centre. At one door, a group of Christians (led by a dominant woman) warned of the fires of hell for atheists, drunkards, gays, dominant women, and others who mocked their narrow interpretation of their biblical deity. Outside the other doorway, a group of Muslim men waved placards warning us of similar fates in the afterlife. It was this second group that attracted the most attention due to their complete absence of women. A chant went up from the assembled atheist audience: “Where are your women? Where are your women?” It seemed a reasonable – if somewhat diversionary – question: how are women treated by your religion?

Well may we criticize their lack of female representation, as a reflection of their ideological misogyny. But are collective atheists any better? In the public new atheist discourse, where are our women? At atheist and skeptic and freethought conventions, how many women feature alongside public speakers Richard Dawkins, Dan Dennett or Laurence Krauss? How are women treated in atheist groups and committees and social media platforms? In the traditional Australian Humanist of the Year Awards, what proportion over the last four decades have comprised women? In worldwide atheist and secular publications, do women get equal representation? Let’s be honest, how many popular lists of atheists, agnostics, secularists, skeptics, rationalists, humanists or freethinkers includes a fair and healthy proportion of women? Perhaps worst of all, various prominent men within the global atheist movement have, in recent years, been accused of personal behaviours that demean, belittle or objectify women. Unless we set a better example, we cannot criticise others for their failures.

In the end anti-black, anti-female, and all forms of discrimination are equivalent to the same thing: anti-humanism. - Shirley Chisholm

Amanda Marcotte summarises the problem in the atheist movement:

“At first blush, it would seem that an atheist movement would be exactly the sort of thing that would attract many women. After all, much of the oppression of women—from forced veiling to restricting abortion rights—is a direct result of religion… But despite the natural and cozy fit of atheism and feminism, the much-ballyhooed “New Atheism” that was supposed to be a more aggressive, political form of atheism has instead been surprisingly male-dominated.”

More widely, secularism has traditionally had an unhealthy gender ratio amongst its membership and activities. Is there hope for a better future?

We have strong grounds for being optimistic. If we look at atheism past, present and emerging, we find an increasing number of women becoming prominent in the ranks, and we need to recognise and acknowledge their leadership. Past leaders include Henrietta Dugdale, Rachel Carson, Madalyn Murray O’Hair, and Olive Zakharov. They helped to shape the world in which we live.

Today, women are emerging within atheist communities across the world, including as leaders within traditionally oppressed communities. Mandisa Thomas, leader of Black Non-Believers, blogs about Christianity, White Supremacy, and True Liberation and thereby challenges us all to consider the intersectional nature of this oppression:

“It really is time for us to have serious discussions about whether the belief systems we have been raised with … aids and abets a system of white supremacy, and are also a hindrance to our liberation.”

In Australia, secular, atheist and freethought organisations that feature females in strong leadership roles include the long-standing Rationalist Society of Australia and the fledgling Humanists Australia; the CEO of this latter organisation, Heidi Nicholl, presents to The Guardian a positive and inclusive Humanist perspective:

Nicholl says that humanists are not “anti-religion and we’re not against religion, we’re actually pro-values, meaning and fulfilment”.

Meanwhile, longtime Australian LGBTQI+ activist Alison Thorne calls for Radical Women and their supporters to unite in the ongoing fight, and, in doing so, suggests a way forward for us all:

“It is time to unite, to take stock of the challenges and to build serious organisation from the diffuse community and broad radical milieu. We’re living in tough times with immense potential and real risks.”

Photo by Womanizer WOW Tech on Unsplash

Hence we might see the connection between our own attitudes and those of others who more pointedly burn witches (as do some Christians in Africa and PNG today) or who enslave women (as per the Taliban or some other Islamic cultures). To evoke the sentiment of humanist Virginia Woolf’s quote (above), the betrayal of women in Afghanistan does not stop at the national border – it is a betrayal of women’s rights everywhere: in Syria, Lebanon, Kenya, Myanmar, Saudi Arabia, India, China, redneck towns in the USA and Australia, every UNHCR refugee camp in the world, and everywhere else that women are oppressed, ignored, demeaned, or subjected to violence or discrimination. We see it in every workplace where women are denied equal pay or opportunity, or are subjected to sexual harassment. The betrayal of women can also be found in the halls of Australian Parliament whenever allegations of rape are ignored or downplayed, and in western culture whenever the humanity of trans women is denied. I have written elsewhere that the downfall of Kabul is the moral downfall of us all.

Surely, if we want to improve the world, we must start with ourselves, and our own attitudes and behaviours. We need to build up those in our world who have been traditionally disempowered and ignored. The emergence of female leaders in secularism points towards one such possible, optimistic future. Kayley Whalen, a queer transgender Latinx Humanist, epitomises the rise of millennial women embracing atheism:

“We believe in social justice, that we can live a life with meaning, purpose, and dedication to social justice without the need for supernatural guidance.”

We cannot help but ponder how many millions of women in Afghanistan share that same perspective – today, tomorrow, next week and forever. And what will we do about it? To reclaim the humanity from the ancient Genesis myth, and to challenge the gender bias that it has engendered for millennia, we must consider: are we our sister’s keeper?

“I am not free while any woman is unfree, even when her shackles are very different from my own.” — Audre Lorde.

© 2021 Geoff Allshorn

An Open Letter

A Letter to Parents of A Science Fiction Fan

Originally published in Solar Spectrum #2, Spaced Out, Melbourne, 2002.

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

Dear Mum and Dad,

You recently skimmed my bookshelves full of Babylon 5 DVDs, and novels by Clarke, Asimov and Le Guin. Then, you asked me your questions about “sci fi”. “Haven’t you outgrown these childish stories?” one of you asked. “Why does this fairy tale stuff appeal to you?” added the other, disparagingly. I felt like I was fifteen years old again, being chastised for staying up too late at night to watch a scratchy episode of Star Trek. But here is my answer.

I enjoy science fiction because it allows me to view the world through the eyes of a child – a youthful and enquiring mind. It gives me the chance to retain a childlike (not “childish”) sense of magic and awe at the world around me. Like a child, I can view everyone and everything as being full of potential and possibilities.

I enjoy science fiction because it is not fairy tale stuff. It is literature that dares to promise me possible utopias or warn me of possible dystopias. It challenges me to act, to take my individual place in the timeline of history, to actively create the future that I would want for myself and for those who will follow.

I enjoy science fiction because it renews my sense of wonder at the Universe. It reminds me of the insignificance of human ego when compared to the magnitude of galaxies, interstellar distances and planetary timescales. It tells me that our daily news – dominated by wars, politicians, economists and sports heroes – is fleeting and transitory. Science fiction reassures me that the beauty of the stars and galaxies will endure, long after our petty worries have been forgotten.

I enjoy science fiction because it promises me that humanity has a future, full of dreamers, explorers and heroes. It promotes the joy of diversity – including aliens, robots, cyber citizens, sentients, men and women, queer and trans and gender non-binary humans – all living together in peace and equality.

I enjoy science fiction because it prepares me for that future. It has introduced me to many concepts from tomorrow’s world – cloning, IVF, mobile phones, the Internet, space travel, ecological problems, robotics, computers and virtual reality – in many cases, years before the “mainstream” even considered the possibilities.

I enjoy science fiction because it has given me friends who represent the future. They are folk with open and enquiring minds, and they display a healthy scepticism about so many of society’s assumptions. They are true scientists in a world that too often equates science with militarism, religion or superstition.

I enjoy science fiction because I recall a television series, “The Invaders”, from the misty days of my childhood. The plot focussed on aliens invading the planet but symbolised American fears about communist infiltrators. In retrospect, I now see the show as an unintentional metaphor for gays and lesbians, bisexuals, transgender and intersex people living in every strata of society. We are here – get used to it.

I enjoy science fiction because it is a form of literature that will one day become “mainstream” literature – when the rest of the world is ready to accept its challenges.

I enjoy science fiction because it is all of these things – and more. It always promises me that the best is yet to come.

© 2002 Geoff Allshorn
Updated/reprinted version © 2021 Geoff Allshorn

Time and Friendship

To coincide with International Youth Day (12 August), I recall a young friend who I never met – but whose story changed my life, and who might teach us of the potential within us all.

“Time doesn’t take away from friendship, nor does separation.”
Tennessee Williams, Memoirs

Image by Oberholster Venita from Pixabay

The date 8 August 1988 might be one of vague mathematical curiosity (8-8-88) and yet it is etched into my mind as the day of a news report in which a young Sydney man lost his life; his story appearing in The Sun, a newspaper that is now also long gone.

He was reportedly infected with HIV in the days before modern multi-drug therapies made HIV a long-term medical condition instead of an almost-certain death sentence.

His last request was to return home from hospital, and his friends eagerly organised a party for his return.

This was an era when HIV was greatly feared and stigmatised, in no small part due to its popular conflation with newly-decriminalised male homosexuality and imagined contagion through normal social contact. Accordingly, his ambulance attendants wore ‘space suits’ as they delivered him home on a stretcher. His friends fled when they saw this and realised that he had AIDS.

Doctor Julian Gold told the newspaper that the young man, ‘died literally of a broken heart 48 hours later in my hospital’.

I was myself a young man when I read this story, and yet 33 years later, I remember being deeply touched by this tale of abandonment by mates and friends. We all recall the flush of youth and our eagerness to find special friends and share time and companionship with those who share our youthful enthusiasm for living and loving and learning together. This is part of the natural process of maturation, moving beyond close family, in search of our own more individualised, extended family. In his desire to find significance and belonging among his own friends – and in their failure to meet his expectations – this young man’s story touches something primal in us all.

(Wherever they are today, I hope that his friends have learnt from their past mistake – we are all only human, after all – and have gone on to redress their error of having been less than their best when the going got tough).

Photo by Womanizer WOW Tech on Unsplash

We might also learn from the yearning for companionship within his story – our common human condition means that we share a bond with others, regardless of their age, gender, culture, sexuality, or any other marker that has traditionally been used to separate and divide us. We share the ability to hope and dream; to yearn for significance and betterment; for living and laughing and crying. Like all sentient beings, we share the potential for suffering or flourishing, for intimacy or loneliness.

Whether they may be runaway or refugee, indigenous or ill, disempowered or discrimated against – our sentience surely compels us to empathise with others in need, and go out of our way to support them whenever we can. Indeed, I suspect that the fullest test of our humanity, ethics and compassion is whether or not we help those with whom we might ordinarily feel that we share the least in common, except for our common humanity.

I am reminded of a Biblical injunction to sacrifically offer help to others: “Greater love hath no man than he who gives his life for his friends…” and I see this saying immortalised on war memorials, building plaques, tomb stones, and used ubiquitously across common literature. However, I see deficiencies in this quote; after all, even serial killers and dictators care about their friends; and its wording suggests an elitism by implying that only friends are worth protecting rather than all humanity. I would respectfully amend and supercede this Biblical quote, emphasising its secular humanist ideal and removing it from any religious context, by expanding it to include everyone instead of just an insulated bubble of our nearest and dearest: Greater love hath no person than they who give their life to help another; turning strangers and enemies and their whole human family into friends.

Thirty-three years ago, that anonymous young man’s story convinced me that awareness of the suffering of others is our choice. His story inspired me towards activism. How many others are like him today, around the world, suffering in silence during modern-day plagues: HIV, COVID, disease, poverty, starvation, injustice, war, violence, discrimination, or the indifference of others? And what are we doing about it?

However we answer those questions reveals more about our own humanity than it does about those whose suffering we are challenged to confront.

Source:

Dan McDonnell, 1988. ‘A tragic test of friendship’, in The Sun, Melbourne, 8 August.

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(*My study of HIV/AIDS has been connected to a PhD study. This work was supported by an Australian Government Research Training Program Scholarship.)

© 2021 Geoff Allshorn