Paris, or We're All Bloody Mad

If, like me, you tend to regard religion as the refuge of the foolish, then there are really only two ways to look at life. Either you can say ‘well, it’s all a bit meaningless, really. What’s the point? I may as well do what I want, when I want, and to hell with anyone else.’ Or you can say ‘well, yes, it is all meaningless, in the sense that there’s no overarching reason for us to be here. We were dust, to dust we’ll return. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t make the most of it while we’re here. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t be nice to each other. Life is short, let’s enjoy it. Let’s be gracious.’

I’m in the latter camp as, I think, are most of us atheist types. The deists, theists and polydeists can, and often do, point their collective finger and say ‘ah, but without belief what moral framework can you have?’ but we all know that’s bunkum. I know right from wrong. I know a morally good thing from a morally bad one. I know, fundamentally, what will pain my fellow man, and I know, fundamentally, what will please him. I’m well equipped to teach La Child how best to navigate this life, and I think she’s becoming sufficiently adept that she won’t need to consult a 2,000 year old text to tell her that killing is bad or that stealing is undesirable or that being generally unpleasant is wrong.

Which does bring me on to Paris. It’s sad, I think, that it should be such a horrible event that brings me out of my self-imposed silence (I’ve been away, I had a flat tyre, there was a terrible storm, etc), but as the images burn themselves on to my brain and the polemics begin to flow I couldn’t help but wade in. Perhaps it’s catharsis, or just my way of externalising the disappointment, and the frustration, and the grief that comes from witnessing madness and failing to understand it. Perhaps it’s purely self-indulgent, in which case I apologise. Normal service will resume next time.

In the papers today, a picture of Abdelhamid Abaaoud. A young man, 27 years old, sat in the front of a car smiling, wearing a heavy woollen hat. The sun bleaches out half his face. He’s happy, it’s a nice photo. A photo of the man who apparently organised the deliberate, cruel murder of 129 people, who masterminded the terrorising and injuring of hundreds more. Who provided the excuse for the bombing of more others. A picture of a young man who in fact was nothing but a link in the ongoing chain of attack and retaliation and revenge.

It’s heartbreaking. As I sit here now and look at the photo I see someone’s son. I can’t help it, I see someone young and immediately my mind turns to La Child, and in this case I can’t help but wonder what it would take to turn her into him. What does it take to turn any of our children into Abdelhamid? Or Omar Ismail Mostefai, or Samy Animour, or Bilal Hadfi, or Ahmad Almohammad, or any of the other alleged killers in Paris last Saturday? What happens between a child’s birth, free of all preconceptions, prejudice and hatred, and the moment that they walk into a crowded restaurant and fire a Kalashnikov?

Yes, of course religion plays its part. These are people who have come to believe that what they’re doing is right. This is their moral code. Either you believe too or you’re the enemy and therefore are a legitimate target. Their religion says so. Or actually, no. Their interpretation of their religion says so. I dislike religion, I think it enslaves you, robs you of the ability to think and to reason, robs you of responsibility for your own actions, but I don’t for one minute think that all religion is inherently violent. All religions have had a violent past, but all also speak of compassion, and fairness, and justice and of respect. Somewhere along the line people become corrupted not by religion but by their circumstance. Someone vulnerable (because of their upbringing or their environment or their mental issues) meets someone persuasive, add in some old fashioned hatred and bigotry, leave to rest for a few years and voila, lobster: bloodshed, mayhem, outrage.

If only those with power would do something positive to help, but no. In the news today, next to the picture of 27 year old Abdelhamid – a child, for goodness' sake – the main story is France’s ‘retaliation’. Airstrikes on Raqqa, the bombing of headquarters and camps. ‘We can’t let them act without reacting,’ says the French military. ‘What happened yesterday,’ said Francois Hollande, the French president ‘was an act of war.’ No it wasn’t, you opportunist tit. Nation states wage war on each other. Russia can declare war on America. Gremany can declare war on Great Britain. A group of fundamentalist fruitcakes can’t wage war. They might spread terror, they might break the law, but it’s not a war. War justifies retaliatory strikes, war means bombs and strategic campaigns. War means fighter jets and tanks and infantry and collateral damage. And so today we have the bombs, and the fighter jets and the collateral damage. Tomorrow we’ll have the upgraded terror level and the increased police presence. Next week we’ll have stricter border controls, and then, eventually, another indiscriminate attack in the middle of Rome, or Baghdad, or London, or Beirut. More death. More grief. A retaliation for the retaliation, revenge for the revenge. More outrage, more bombs, and on and on we’ll go in a never ending merry-go-round of tit-for-tat.

It’s all rather depressing. I’d usually say something funny now, something positive. Something about breaking the cycle, education being the key, a slow but determined push to eradicate radicalism, to reduce the impact of blind faith, a concerted effort to dismantle the structures necessary to keep people under the yoke of ignorance, but, really, I do feel terribly depressed today. I can’t honestly see how we’ll ever reach a more enlightened state, not while we're nothing but a thin veneer of respectability away from the apes. Evolution, I suppose, will eventually see us right. All will be well, just a few hundred thousand more years required.

The Babel Fish is a dead giveaway, isn't it?

Time to nail my colours to the mast?

I'm an atheist. A fully paid up member of the rational society. A firm believer in logic over optimism. I have so very little patience for any religion, and even less for those who choose to use it as an excuse for, say, casual bigotry, or as reason for some atrocity, or as explanation for some otherwise explicable thing or other: 'doctors said it was a 1 in a million chance that baby would survive, and she did - it's a miracle!' No, no it's not. It may have been statistically unlikely, but it was nevertheless possible, which does tend to reduce its eligibility in the miracle stakes.

See, I've always been entirely rational. Fan of the scientific method. Observe the world around you. Come up with a theory that explains what you see. Experiment with it. Check that your theory can predict future events. If it doesn't work, observe some more, come up with another theory. Repeat until you discover E=MC², stick your tongue out at a passing photographer and retire in the knowledge that your face will adorn a million t-shirts.

Religion is the polar opposite. Belief requires trust without seeking proof. Proof negates belief. The Guide had it right -

"The Final Proof of the non-Existence of God was proved by a Babel Fish.

Now, it is such a bizarrely improbable coincidence that anything so mind-boggingly useful could have evolved by chance, that some have chosen to see it as the final proof of the NON-existence of God. The argument goes something like this:

'I refuse to prove that I exist,' says God, 'for proof denies faith, and without faith I am nothing.'

'But,' says Man, 'the Babel Fish is a dead giveaway, isn't it? It could not have evolved by chance. It proves that You exist, and so therefore, by Your own arguments, You don't. QED.'

'Oh dear,' says God, 'I hadn't thought of that,' and promptly vanishes in a puff of logic.

'Oh that was easy,' says Man, and for an encore goes on to prove that black is white and gets himself killed on the next zebra crossing.'

This is all to explain why, once upon a time, I was predisposed to believe that to make people like each other again all you had to do was remove religion. Ban it, I thought, and you remove 99% of the world's problems. Consign it to a footnote in history, and you remove most of the reasons for people to hate one another. But now I'm no longer quite so sure.

I think that, deep down, we're just programmed to hate one another. Religion is neither here nor there. It's the excuse, the catalyst. If it weren't for religion there would be something else. Is what happened in Woolwich a product of religious intolerance? No. Woolwich is an example of two ignorant, disaffected young men who sought revenge for a perceived sleight. It was a postcode stabbing writ large. Were they brainwashed? Were they encouraged to do what they did? Probably. But what they were led to believe isn't the important thing, it's that they were in a position to be brainwashed in the first place.

The reaction to Woolwich worries me more. Not of the EDL and BNP nutjobs (idiots spoiling for a fight, come what may) but the middle class man on the Clapham omnibus who tutted in disgust at the burning down of the mosques and then viewed a couple of videos of a more presentable member of the EDL and announced 'well, not at all what I expected, spoke some sense actually.' The X Factor-watching Daily Fail-reading commuter who nods along with the perfectly reasonable leader that says perhaps greater freedom for the security services to pry into personal communications is warranted because, well, you know, particularly in the mosques bad things are being said and you need to be able to stop them, don't you? The status-updating, cringworthy poem-liking Facebook brigade, immersing themselves in grief porn over some poor boy they've never met and probably wouldn't like if they did, announcing in their droves that it's time we put a stop to all these foreign types coming over here and moaning about the place, and if they don't like it they should just bloody leave then. Down with this sort of thing.

Voltaire means nothing to these people. Memories are short. Thinking so wooly you could knit a scarf with it.

As a species we like to think that we've evolved, that we're the pinnacle of civilisation, with our jam, our toasters, our ipads and our smart TVs, but we're really not, are we? Present us with a crisis and we turn into UKIP voting automatons. And that's just annoying, when you realise that we're capable of the most remarkable acts of kindness and generosity and wonder. Tell you what, let's leave religion well alone and ban the Daily Mail. That'll do.