The Myth of Martyrs

So this is my thesis proposal, in its very rough stages. So rough, in fact, that is more segments, than it is one flowing document. I feel uninspired and stuck with it, though, so I thought I would throw it up here and see what sort of feedback or help I can get. I haven't included my sources, since it is rough. However, I do feel the need to assert that this is my work, my words. Plagiarism will not be tolerated.

The 1916 Easter Rising in Dublin is often regarded as the cataclysmic event that sparked the twentieth century struggle for an Irish free state. The public eye looks back on this show of rebellion warmly, linking it closely to the Irish Republic's freedom. It is remembered romantically as a heroic and gallant stand for Ireland's deserved freedom. After al, this is how the Rising's leaders wanted the revolt to be remembered. Patrick Pearse released many statements and updates from the General Post Office relating how successful and welcomed the rebels were for their show of force during the Rising. However, this was merely propaganda and strayed far from the truth.

In fact, the majority of opinion in Dublin, reacting to the Rising, ranged from outright hostility to civil ambivalence. Many were outraged at the idea that these ragtag rebels could even think of rebellion when the Empire was waist-deep in the trenches of the Great War – especially when so many of Ireland's boys were in those trenches, dying for the British Empire. With the rising mired in this glum environment, there was scant support for the rebels actions. Few were rushing to pick up the arms laid down by the rebels as the British army marched them to gaol.

The public opinion began to shift, however, in the days following the Rising when the British clumsily tried to clean up the mess. By 5 May, shawled women who would spit and curse at the rebels were replaced with girls who would cheer and rejoice as these men walked down the streets. This change in attitude was created in reaction to the over-zealous actions of the British army. Sympathy for the rebels was generated when the entirety of Ireland was placed under martial law, despite the fact that the Rising only occurred in Dublin. Across the country 3,500 people were arrested in a mass sweep, two-thirds of whom were deported to England. More than this zealous police action, it was the subsequent swift executions of the 12 perceived leaders of the Rising at Kilmainham Gaol that threw Irish support behind the Easter Rising.

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While Ireland was mired in conflict and guerilla wars, the Irish people were often reminded why it was that the IRA and Sinn Fein were fighting for the country's independence through speeches from military and political leaders.  Michael Collins would frequently refer to the Easter Rising. However, he never pointed to this revolt as a seismic event in Ireland's path to freedom. To Collins, the Easter Rising was the culmination of a long string of events, leading down from Young Ireland, through the IRB, and beyond. It was a gauntlet that was thrown down by Pearse, Connolly, and the others, at the feet of the British. A gauntlet that was forged out of Fenian ideals. In fact, Collins asserted that the ideals of the Rising were largely forgotten in the years following the event, as evidenced by the 1918 elections. In his speeches, Michael Collins often played down the role of the Rising as an individual event, and did not focus on the individuals behind the Rising. This is perhaps due to his conflict with Eamon DeValera, especially during the civil war.

DeValera, on the other hand used the Easter Rising, and his role in it, as well as in its aftermath, to his advantage. As one of the few leaders to escape the firing squad, DeValera cultivated his entire political image on his role in the Rising. This was shown with great success in the 1918 elections when he managed to win his riding against incredible odds. DeValera continued to use his sharp mind and equally sharp tongue to keep him ahead of the political game. When it came to Ireland's independence, he would often harken back to the Rising and its influence on Ireland's path to freedom.

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Propaganda is an important factor in war strategy, and as such, has a tendency to skew the facts in historical record. Through primary sources such as speeches made by Eamon DeValera and Michael Collins, as well as newspaper articles and stories from both London and Dublin dealing with the Irish War of Independence, and the subsequent Irish Civil War, combined with news stories, speeches, and accounts of the Easter Rising, I hope to get a strong grasp on the importance of the Rising's martyrs and their influence on Ireland's independence. With dedicated research, I wish to discover whether the martyrs were crucial in influencing Ireland's path toward freedom, or if they merely contributed a complimentary role alongside the likes of Young Ireland, the IRB, and the Fenians.

And I rewrote the actual proposal bit. It still ends abruptly and poorly, but is slightly better written.


//Propaganda is an important factor in war strategy, and as such, has a tendency to skew the facts in historical record. The Easter Rising is an important part of Ireland's history, and as such has been studied from many different angles and perspectives. Even with such popularity, however, most works dealing with the event's importance take it as part as a growing movement. I wish to look at the Rising as a single entity, an individual event, and it's effect on the subsequent conflicts for independence. Through primary sources of the Rising, such as the letters and proclamations of the 12 martyrs, as well as secondary sources such as The Rising, I hope to get a firm grasp of the contemporary impact of the Rising and its Martyrs. I would then combine this information with primary sources from the Irish War of Independence and Irish Civil War, such as speeches from Eamon DeValera and Michael Collins, as well as parliamentary documents from both Dublin and Westminster. These political documents would then be combined with newspaper articles from both Dublin and London which would reflect that popular opinion. Secondary sources would again be used to give context and historiography to help get a full picture of where the propaganda ends and the real influence begins. With dedicated research, I wish to discover whether the martyrs were crucial in influencing Ireland's path toward freedom, or if they merely contributed a complimentary role alongside the likes of Young Ireland, the IRB, and the Fenians.//

I Really Like Christmas...

...It’s sentimental, I know, but I still really like it.

There are so many song lyrics one could use to describe the wonderful feeling you get at this time of year. This is my favourite, though. It feels as though this atheist’s song about Christmas in Australia, written as a tribute to his daughter has become an anthem to all those who feel like me - people who love the season, love the sentiment, but do not share a belief in a sentient teapot or any of the rest. It is a really lovely song that describes how wonderful it is to spend the holidays with family as well as all of the great things about the season.

With such a lovely message emphasising the importance of family, you would think that it would be accepted in the mainstream, that in a society that has such a dynamic mosaic of religions, it would be at least tolerated, if not appreciated for still promoting a positive message. Maybe, even some really hyper tolerant, understand, and accepting Christians would applaud Tim Minchin for seeing past his distaste for religion and donating such a popular song to the Salvation Army’s Christmas album. Apparently this view is just far too optimistic. Instead of understanding and caring in the name and spirit of Christmas, Christians in Australia are attacking the charity’s album, berating Minchin, and condemning the mighty powers that be for putting such a vile, and disrespectful song that is so out of line with the true spirit of Christmas.

To these few, it would seem that the message of the song does not actually matter. No, the fact that it has lyrics such as “I’m not expecting a visit from Jesus” or “I don’t go in for ancient wisdom, I don’t believe that just cos ideas are tenacious it means that they’re worthy.” Et cetera, means that it is un Christmas. Only because it is un Christian. I’m sorry, but exactly how Christian has the holiday been in the past decade? It is a season for family, gift-giving, and drinking in today’s politically correct and sensitive society.

To me, this is mortifyingly closed minded, bigoted, and irresponsible. Christmas is supposed to be a time of charity, love, warmth, and tolerance. Instead, apparently, it has become more important to promote Jesus and Christianity at the cost of the traits that make this holiday worth celebrating. How you can listen to this song and say that is in any capacity anti-Christmas is beyond me.

If you agree that this is a beautiful song for the Christmas spirit, and that the partisan attack on it is disgustingly vile, Tim Minchin has responded to this attack very appropriately. His original version of White Wine in the Sun, as shown above, is available for purchase on iTunes. From now until January 1, 2011 100% of the profits from purchasing the song will go toward a secular charity. It might not be much, but even this small display can show the true meaning of the Christmas spirit.

http://tinyurl.com/whitewine

(If you want to read the article that sparked this rant, you can find it here: http://bit.ly/bcS9pb )

Edit:

If you were hesitant to buy the song to help an unnamed charity, fear no more! The proceeds will go to the National Autistic Society

Like a Hell Broth Boil and Bubble.

It’s October! This means that leaves are turning brilliant, vibrant colours and then falling off the trees and into my car. It means that one day it will be warm like a summer breeze, and the next day we will watch the skies for snow. And the days in between? They’re the best. Cool, but not cold; just the right amount of wind; sunny but not bright; cloudy but not dismal. October is the best month of the year. This isn’t a sentimental “why I love this time of year” post. Though I did want to start off with a bit of sentiment. Just to balance it out.

What is this post about? Blood, rotting flesh, the shadows in the dark — all things supernatural, creepy, and (hopefully still) scary. That, ultimately is what makes October so amazing. Those leaves falling off the trees and blowing down the street? They sound like an army of zombies dragging their carcasses to your door. The mixture of sun and cloud creates shadows of devils and daemons stalking you on your walk. The fluctuating temperatures create a chill down your spine, putting you on edge and fearing for the worst. October is great for its beauty, but also its ability to create fear. Halloween is the celebration of all things spooky. So what if witches and ghosts and zombies don’t exist? Halloween is the opportunity for even the most rational person to let their imaginations run wild. So what is this post, then? It’s me, talking about my favourite creepy crawlies in their most stellar and spectacular of forms. And hopefully this time I’ll do what I’ve been trying to do since I made this site — create some discussion!

"Every dead body that is not exterminated becomes one of them. It gets up and kills. The people it kills get up and kill."

-Dawn of the Dead

Zombies are an age-old classic when it comes to horror monsters. The Doctor has explained part of it in Dawn of the Dead as quoted above. It plays on the fear of contagions, life-threatening plagues with no cures. This is arguably the worst of such viral infections, as it is passed on through someone gnawing on your tender, warm, and juicy flesh. Combine this with the fact that Zombies smell nauseously awful, look worse, and are very determined to sink their teeth into warm flesh, and you have the “plot” of many horror movies for years to come.

Why not, though? The sight of a once dead loved one, their flesh grey and rotting, just starting to fall of the bones, is gruesome. Add to this the fact that they are slow, lumbering, mindless killing machines, and they can quite easily lull you into a false sense of security. What, with next to no sentient capacity, surely it would be easy to out-smart those undead buggers? But you’d be surprised how determined they are. They gang up and stalk you en masse. It really does become hard to outfight them when there are hundreds of them and one of you.

I think that is what is most terrifying about them. To think about zombies rationally (or as rationally as you can) it becomes apparent that it is highly, highly unlikely that you can survive indefinitely against their massive force.

"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And when you look into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you."

- Friedrich Nietzsche.

The abyss? The eternal darkness that gnaws at your insides tears you apart and turns you into a nihilistic existentialist. That gnawing pain the warps your core. It lives in the vampires. Not the modern day teen angst vampires, but those old school monsters that were painted with a romantic brush dipped in the blood of babies. The ones that would turn brutal, savage, bloody murder into a sensual and seductive act. They are purely evil, purely primal creatures with a surging sexuality and no redeeming qualities. I could go through the history and mythical evolution of the vampire, but these days that seems to be common(ish) knowledge, so let’s just leave it at that.

“Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities.”

-Voltaire

What is the scariest monster of them all? The one that is very real, with very real power and influence in this world. He also wears a rather peculiar hat that both frightens and amuses me. He is a man with the power to abolish an entire realm of religious existence, recreate it, and abolish it again*, without any of his millions of followers questioning a word of it. That’s millions of people willing to follow this man with his pointy hat (missile silo?) at his word — any of his words — without questioning it. Without even blinking at its absurdity. The last time something like this happened, more than six million people were slain. This very real power, and his very strict, conservative, outdated religious beliefs make Pope Benny the scariest Halloween monster out there. Bar none.

Of course the scales of scary are always shifting, and are relative between individuals and cultures. But that’s what is scary to me — determined, persistent, stinky, evil, undead, supernatural beings. What about you?

*He didn’t do that exactly. But he did abolish Limbo. What exactly happens now that Limbo is gone? Do unbaptised children go directly to hell, no passing go, no collecting two hundred dollars? Am I going to hell for being an unbaptised child AND an atheist?!

Dietary Drivel

So I am about to embark on that age-old and very popular struggle for weight loss. Better yet, I’m going to be paying people to tell me what to eat, when to eat, and how much to eat. It sounds dreary and pointless, I know. I’m taking solace, however, in the fact that this programme is meant to be a lifestyle change, I’m meant to learn how to eat healthy. Better yet, this isn’t a cookie cutter diet. It is 100% personalised, based on my glycemic index and whatever else they take into account from my blood. Like excess protein created by the IGA Nephropathy, which is threatening me with a kidney transplant in the next twenty years. I don’t want a kidney transplant. I’d rather keep all my own internal organs, thank you very much.

While most people pay other people to help them lose weight for vanity, my vanity only covers about 40% of my motivation. The rest is health. I go to the gym; I eat relatively healthy as it is right now. Except I still eat pre-packaged food and junk food. And while my lifestyle is great for maintaining my weight (I haven’t gained or lost even a fraction of a kilo in the past year) it is not conducent to me losing weight. And if I want to avoid the family curse of diabetes, it’s the losing weight part that is most important.

I tend to gain muscle mass as quickly as, or faster than, I lose fatty weight. So my goals in weight loss are an either/or sort of scenario. Either I want to lose 30 kilos, or I want to be a nice size 10. And not just at Old Navy, either. A universal size 10. Relatively speaking. I do, however, want to make a considerable dent in my weight numerically speaking by the next time I see my specialist. That is to say that I want to lose somewhere between 15 and 30 pounds by March. So what does this “paid to be personal” weight loss plan give me to accomplish this sort of goal? Well, let’s air it all out so you can judge me and bully me into staying on track!

So this plan started with blood work. The blood work was to get an idea of my overall health, my glycemic index, cholesterol level, and all of that fun stuff. In my case, my cholesterol is a smidgen high, so for the next twelve weeks I’m limited in my intake of red meats. Then I get another blood test. Yay! From the blood analysis I am given a list of foods I can have, and a chart of the different food combinations I can have. My distaste for beans means that I will be having a lot of chicken. Good thing I like chicken!

I do have to weigh myself and my food, which might be a pain, but it will also be interesting. This diet is going to force me to cook, and to come up with new recipes, and fun stuff like that. Speaking of recipes, anyone know any good ways to cook beans? Fucking beans.

I get to eat 3 times a day, with no less than 5 hours between meals, and I have to have dinner at least 2 hours before bed. I also have to drink 2 litres of water daily. I can also have tea (without milk) and, though not recommended, diet colas (in moderation). So yay for not being limited to water and only water! It also allows me to cheat with one meal bi-weekly (which is great with Thanksgiving coming up soon!)

I will have a consultant who I can phone or e-mail who will help me with anything and everything I need help with, as well as keep on top of me with weekly check-ins where I have to update her on my weight and measurements. The blogosphere will only be burdened with monthly check-ins, however. If I remember. This whole diet thing starts tomorrow (only because I didn’t get to do shopping until today. And I just remembered I forgot to buy sugar substitute. Whey.) I also get a personal grand tour of a new gym in Fergus that I will probably be joining.

So, interweb, it is time to put that cyber-bullying to good use! Keep me in line!

Missing the Boat.

Today’s world is constantly shrinking. Far off and remote countries are becoming easily accessible, be it through travel, or through vicarious experiences on the internet or TV. Therefore, it shouldn’t be a stretch that, as the globe shrinks, understanding and compassion between cultures increases. It shouldn’t be, but apparently it is a huge stretch. A gaping chasm, even. Instead of diminishing stereotypes, this close-knit global community just seems to create more stereotypes, giving them a vast, if not gullible, audience. So while the phenomenon of globalisation should, in theory, bring the peoples of the Earth closer together, it instead helps to magnify stereotypes and raise fear and intolerance. A pretty bold statement, to be sure, but often hyperbole is needed for illustration.

What has brought about this little rant of mine? Well, it has been in the news a lot recently, especially in Canada, and I think Australia as well. Asylum seekers seem to be getting a bad rap. Third world refugees in desperate search for asylum from turmoil and danger in their home countries try to find their way to first world nations, such as Canada and Australia, hoping for reprieve from the situations plaguing them in their home countries. It’s a shame that we tend to view these people as terrorists or liars without offering them compassion or the chance to make their case.

This discomfort with the common treatment of refugees was sparked by the news story in Canada of the boat coming from Sri Lanka full of Tamils. It was compounded when this video dealing with the asylum seeker issue in the Australian election was brought to my attention. If the world is shrinking into a global community, why are we becoming increasingly discriminatory? Is this sudden shrinking of the globe, the blurring of national identities scaring us so much that we have to face it with a greater force of stubborn prejudice and “national pride”?

In Australia many scholars have written on the subject, and especially in the past ten years, they have deplored and lamented how the Australian government has treated asylum seekers shamefully, undermining what they view as the dual purpose of Australia’s government, as it was set forth in the ‘70s and ‘80s. That is to atone and apologise for the sins of its past whilst acknowledging that the country must also open its doors as a refuge, a place of solace, for the oppressed of the world. Some scholars have gone as far as to call the Australian government’s treatment of refugees as “rotten”. This is illustrated by recent governments who have made a strong effort to make “Asylum Seeker” synonymous with “Illegal Immigrant” a notion that is blatantly false, and harmful to those people in genuine peril, fleeing their homes for a new sanctuary.

This villainous attack on refugees is made all the more lamentable when you look at the fact that, as of 2005, there were eight thousand community-based refugees in Australian. Most of these refugees tend to be Sri Lankan, which is interesting in that Canada is having problems with Tamils. Also in that it has been statistically illustrated that refugee recognition rates are lower for those that come from poorer countries. But I’m not Australian; so I won’t dwell on their asylum seekers, instead, let us turn to Canada! (Blame Canada.)

Canada has recently received a boatload of Tamils on our Vancouver port, and not for the first time. However, it seems that a second boatload in less than a decade have made us less than accepting. Instead of deploring the conditions in which these people came over, packed into the boat like sardines in a tin can, and offering these human beings a sort of welcoming comfort, we labelled them “terrorists” before they even arrived on our shores, and accused them of human trafficking. No one mourned the Tamil who died at sea. Overall, Canadians were rather hostile toward the Tamils. A poll showed that 70% of Canadians felt that we should force the Tamils to return to Sri Lanka and face persecution. In Alberta, Canada’s province of traditional conservatism, only 17% of those polled believed that the Tamils should be given the opportunity to stay.

And we call ourselves a multicultural nation? A proud mosaic, accepting of others’ cultural differences? Maybe on the paper-thin surface. Due to the sudden influx of refugees, which the government has labelled the “Mass Arrival,” Harper’s government is planning to put forth a motion to Parliament to increase the duration of a refugee’s detention from 48 hours to 2 weeks. What exactly will this accomplish? No, seriously, I missed the news story. What will this accomplish?

Maybe Canada and Australia have such a hard time accepting third world refugees because they’re following the examples set by Mother England? After all, the UK did not allow for the 1951 Geneva Convention on human rights to supersede national immigration laws until 1993. Isn’t that a long time to basically scoff at international law? Maybe I’m just being ridiculous to think that, in today’s world, we should be more welcoming and understanding of the plight of other human beings. Shouldn’t we be above blind witch hunts against “terrorists” just because of a person’s visible religion, culture, or nationality? I was taught not to judge a book by its cover, which I thought meant withholding judgement until you met or talked to someone. But I guess it is easier to make a snap judgement and then hand the onus over to proving you wrong. This doesn’t make sense to me. But then again, fear is more powerful, and more malleable, than understanding.

Summer Wine.

Have you noticed a distinct lack of activity recently? It isn’t just because I’m a lazy git, though that is part of the explanation. I was actually on a mini-holiday with my family. We had five days (Sunday - Thursday) to venture up to northern Ontario and visit with family. The five days we had overlapped with the camping dates of the family members we were visiting, so we decided to spend two of our days at Pancake Bay with them before taking off the rest of the way up to Wawa just to be able to spend some time in our grandparents’ old house.

It was a delightfully short visit, and I took pictures. Lots of pictures. So I thought that I would use this blog as a little online travel journal, at least just this once. That’s a lie. I’ll probably use it as a travel journal every time I go somewhere and take pictures. Luckily, that doesn’t happen often.

This holiday was so short mainly due to the fact that Fan Expo started on Friday, and Ashley had already booked a posh hotel for us to spend a weekend stocking Stan Lee. The upside to such a short holiday is that it doesn’t give my back the opportunity to create massive amounts of pain in protest, and it doesn’t give my aunt the chance to get judgemental and preachy. Or at least not unbearingly judgemental and preachy. We shall come to that. But first, let us talk about camping!

A week ago Saturday I headed up to Pancake Bay with my family. The plan was really quite simple – we were going to meet up with my aunt and her family, and spend a couple of days camping with them before heading up to Wawa for a couple of days. It really was a whirlwind holiday which commenced with a 12 hour journey in a red pickup truck.

The campsite was very pretty and fairly close to the lake, which was a calm and pristine blue when we arrived. After setting up the campsite, which was as easy as pi, I wandered off to the beach so that I could dig my feet into the sand and work on my thesis proposal. Which I did. For two hours. Actually, writing out my thesis took a full twenty minutes, the rest of the time was spent watching the water. When I finally decided to join the family I helped my baby cousin cook a hotdog in the bonfire for dinner, then took the kids swimming after dinner.

The next day I hiked up to the lookout to enjoyed the breath-taking view of Lake Superior for a while. It was a solid 11km hike that I decided to go on, and it was worth every step, even the wobbly ones near the end. Of course, after getting back to civilisation I have been informed that I was very silly for doing this and shot my knee to all hell. I do this often, however, so it doesn’t really bother me.

On our last day Lake Superior had a little rumble and was creating some nice sized waves so Heidi and I decided to take the kids and the dogs down to the dog beach for a little swim. Only one kid decided to come, and after 45 minutes of walking, we managed to go for a little bit of a swim. Felix didn’t have a good time, seeing as the waves rolling onto the shore were at least thrice his size, but Zeus and Annika loved it. Annika loved it so much, in fact, that I had to swim out to get her at least four times. After all, I wasn’t willing to go back to camp and say “sorry, I lost your youngest to Superior’s undertow.” Everyone had a good time, and it was a nice way to end the camping segment of our holiday.

Up in Wawa life was nice and relaxed. We didn’t get in until about 8, so that first day didn’t really amount to much. But the next day, which was also our only full day there, was chalk full of fun. The morning consisted of bumming around reading journal articles, but the afternoon was comprised of a trip out to camp, a walk around the old family lodge, a trip to the High Falls, and a visit with my grandparents. The evening brought wine and my brother’s fabulous cooking, a really rather tasty treat. It also brought my aunt raving about altmeds. I should get a medal for keeping my mouth shut.

The holiday was capped by another twelve hour stretch in the truck, which was only broken up by stops at trading posts (at one of which I bought myself a new pair of moccasins!) and refuelling. By the time we got home, I was in hurry mode to do laundry, have dinner, and do a wee bit of packing so that the three hours I had to get ready Friday morning could be spent doing the running around that had to be done. Which it was.

FanExpo was a great cap to my holidays, as Ashley and I stayed in the Royal York and got to live the life of posh geeks for the weekend. It was a geeky heaven that was highlighted by a Dalek, Stan Lee, William Shatner, and awesome commissions in need of framing.

Whistle for the Choir.

Perhaps it’s time for me to use my own voice. Maybe post my own words? My own thoughts? But then the question becomes: where do I begin? Should I create a mission statement? The truth is, I don’t have a mission statement. As yet, I don’t really have a purpose or an agenda driving this website. So, for now, it shall exist as a miscellaneous collection of rants, raves, musings, and quotes. Such as this one:

In a closed society where everybody’s guilty, the only crime is getting caught. In a world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity.

-Hunter S. Thompson

So what shall be the point of this post, then? Why not dive into the deep-end and have a little chat about religion? Religion has been on my mind quite a bit lately. Not because I’m considering becoming a “born-again Christian” (One of the silliest terms I have heard – how do you go through the birth process again? Once you’re out of the womb, you’re out. There’s no going back). Actually, religion has been weighing on my mind for quite the opposite reason. A few months ago I finally decided to jump on the Atheist bandwagon.

And why not? Most Western religions got their footing through the masses jumping on the bandwagon. Catholicism started with the Romans following the elite classes away from Polytheism and embracing the Monotheism encouraged by the Bible. All of the variant sects of Christianity began in the 16th century when Martin Luther created a schism with the Church that, once again, benefited the elite society. Why should Atheism be any different? Why can’t there be an Atheist bandwagon, on which the masses jump as they embrace logic and reason? Why not?

I’ve been firmly opposed to the concept of religion since high school and an Agnostic since my second year of university. I wasn’t really ready to let go of the ideas of spirituality – the higher-being, the “big picture”, the afterlife. I needed these things to help me cope with the death of my 20 year-old cousin who was killed by a drunk driver. I needed to believe that there was a reason behind his promising life being cut short, and that maybe he continued living in a disembodied sort of way, still able to make a difference. However, with time comes reason, and while his death still hurts, I’m okay with admitting that he’s dead. Just dead, not in heaven, not floating around the Earth making a difference in other peoples’ lives. His atoms are still floating around somewhere in the universe, yes, but he isn’t. And I’m okay with this.

What pushed me over the proverbial edge, causing me to take that final step and identify as an Atheist isn’t all that clear to me. I’ve been harbouring a growing appreciation for science, yes. I’ve also been re-reading Richard Dawkins’ The God Delusion and listening to Tim Minchin’s beat poem “Storm”. However, I’ve always appreciated science, despite resigning myself to never being able to understand it; I read The God Delusion shortly after it first came out; and I had listened to “Storm” almost ad nauseam whilst remaining an Agnostic. So why did I finally jump ship?

The evolution of reason and logic, I suppose.

Perhaps my conversion to Atheism stems from my distaste in the violence and hypocrisy that exists in religion. Or at least Western religion. The concept of religion, and its actual historical practices just don’t jive. On one hand, we have the holy figures preaching love, acceptance, tolerance, and peace. The other hand is far more nefarious as it calls the parish to war, condemns those who differ, burns those who cannot be explained, and shuns those who dare to disagree. If the Church were one of its parishioners, it would be going straight to hell in a whiskey bottle.

This, however, only explains my fervent distaste of the Church and organised religion on the whole. What about the disbelief in God? Maybe that stems from my ever-growing understanding and appreciation for science? Or, as I said before, with age comes a more mature form of logic and a greater ability to apply and apprehend one’s reasoning skills. Or maybe I’m just being far too analytical.

I had therefore to remove knowledge, in order to make room for belief.

-Immanuel Kant

If I take Kant’s view, than perhaps I’m too stubborn and too selfish to be willing to make room for faith or religion. I just find knowledge too precious, too exciting to be willing to sacrifice it in the name of “faith”.

Or maybe I’m just jumping on the bandwagon.

Anti-Anselm.

1. The creation of the world is the most marvellous achievement imaginable.

2. The merit of an achievement is the product of (a) its intrinsic quality, and (b) the ability of its creator.

3. The greater the disability (or handicap) of the creator, the more impressive the achievement.

4. The most formidable handicap for a creator would be non-existence.

5. Therefore if we suppose that the universe is the product of an existent creator we can conceive a greater being – namely, one who created everything while not existing.

6. An existing God therefore would not be a being greater than which a greater cannot be conceived because an even more formidable and incredible creator would be a God which did not exist.

Ergo:

7. God does not exist.

- Douglas Gasking