DemocratDad

The Values of Science

Telling the truth. Relying on evidence whenever possible. Parsimony (beautiful word!), i.e., going with the most simple explanation when given a choice. Always, always, turning to others to verify results.

And above all, the rejection of certainty and a corresponding commitment to revising one's thinking when faced with new facts.

Don't let anyone ever tell you that science does not have values.

I found this clip very moving. It's worth watching to the end.

 

My Open Letter to Andrew Sullivan at the Daily Dish

Dear Andrew,

I have been reading The Dish for a long time -- at least a decade.

An aspect of your character that I have long admired is your urge always to seek MORE information, rather than less. Over and over, you demonstrate a willingness to consider -- and share with your readers -- a wide range of commentary on any given topic. I believe that I have been influenced, for the better, by your unfailing generosity and fair-mindedness to those who hold positions different than yours.

So. Encouraged by this sense I have of your strong character (namely, that you won't get offended by what I'm going to say, but on the contrary will understand it correctly as meant with respect) well, I'm going to come right out with it:

The religious aspects of your blog are, I am sorry to say, beginning to discredit the rest of it for me.

In the past, as you might expect, I was able to cordon off your religiosity from your political commentaries and philosophical musings.

To each his own, right?

I just skipped over the stuff about God and faith altogether. (Unless, of course, you were denouncing "Christianists" or exposing Muslim fanaticism, or something else we could agree on...) 

But now I am finding that I can't cordon your religious beliefs off. And I have a feeling that this development may be bigger than you or me.

This is why I am sharing it with you, Andrew. You follow the zeitgeist better than anyone I know. And as I say, I am convinced there's... something happening here...

Atheism is growing up, I think.

As many people like me are moving away from any need to grapple with religious thinking, I suspect that our frame of reference is changing accordingly. It reminds me of the gay marriage debate, how fast it turned.

All that religious stuff, even the formerly interesting dialogues you hosted or provoked, between people of "faith" and those skeptical of it... it seems more and more, well, silly. A waste of time.

Just for moment, put yourself in the position of readers like me.

There's this blog that you really, really enjoy... But the writer happens to be a devotee of... Zeus.

Zeus? Yep. Takes it quite seriously too.

It would embarrass you, would it not?

In 2013, if someone you respect greatly did this? 

You might begin to read that blog with a kind of squint, hoping that there would be none of that high-minded writing about Zeus and Apollo and Athena in it. Right?

Come on, Andrew. Join us.

Let go of the old Bronze age myths and fables, in the generous and thoughtful way that you generally do things. Prove to me that you can recognize bullshit when you see it.

With respect,

Tom

FOLLOW-UP TO THIS POST:

Andrew Sullivan has been writing often in recent weeks about Pope Francis. I wrote Sullivan an email on this "extraordinary Pope" -- seen from an atheist perspective, and he quoted it in full!

Once again, evidence of Sullivan's willingness to consider and publish opposing viewpoints.

I talk about elves, not Zeus, this time, but my words are just as blunt as in this earlier "open letter." Here's the link. I'm the "atheist" reader who starts: "It is strange, being a non-believer..."

I will confess. I still worry about the bullshit quotient, but I can't quit reading Sullvan's blog because of its wide-ranging intellectual and cultural curiosity... and because he writes so damn well and with such heart.

The Death of a Doctor

On this day, one day after the murder of Dr. George Tiller, I urge everyone who happens to read this to reflect on the costs imposed on our world -- our complicated, ever-changing, crowded, contentious world, all that we have -- by ideology.  I think of the lives lost because of adherence to ideologies of all kinds (including those ideologies like religion which are still largely shielded from criticism by social taboos).

This woman's personal remembrance of Dr. George Tiller is moving because it is so specific, about how he helped her and her mother and others she knows.  He was a doctor; he healed people.  He died yesterday before his natural end.

The Crooked Timber of Democracy

As a voter, I have the dream that someday my President will actually speak for me. 

Not just the vote I represent, not just my demographic... No.   I mean someone who truly represents my values, my perspective on the world.  Sure, his or her specific policy proposals, the timing of his agenda, etc. may surprise me in the short term.  But ultimately we would want the same things.

Barack Obama comes pretty damn close to being this dream candidate.  I felt privileged to vote for him.  And I'm still elated that he won.  From reading his books to watching him on TV, I have had every indication that he believes in the intrinsic worth of each person, whether living in this country or anywhere in the world -- values to which I aspire too.   

It should follow from this belief -- shouldn't it? -- that every person is irreducible and worthy of equal treatment.   And indeed, all during the campaign, I noticed it in Obama's smallest gesture, or in his tone of voice: he treats people from all different nationalities, cultures, backgrounds, with respect.  He cares about being a father, more than anything else. Hey, I thought, this guy expresses my highest ideals!  

That's why I feel as if I have been kicked in the stomach.

I learned today that President-Elect Obama has invited Rick Warren of the Saddleback Church in California to give the "invocation" at the inauguration next month.  This is the first fissure in my dream... and so the disillusionment begins. Or more exactly, here's where I am reminded that in a democratic country we should never expect perfect accord between our private ideals and the necessary public compromises which constitute our government. Our role as individual citizens is not to straighten the crooked timber of humanity, but to do our part to guide its growth in a favorable direction. 

Still, it hurts.

Why do I feel so strongly about Rick Warren?

Because:

1) Gays and lesbians should be able to marry like the rest of us.  Period.  Rick Warren is wrong on this. There is absolutely no coherent argument for two human beings, whatever their gender, not to be able to pledge their undying love for each other in a public fashion.  Marriage is not just a symbol; it is an act which changes everything.  It represents a reach into the infinite, beyond the span of our own lifetime.  is a place where our temporal laws (tax benefits, visiting rights at hospitals, etc.) point to something beyond time, where our nation, as a collection of citizens bound together by respect for laws, honors love, the highest of values.

2) I actually think Obama does not understand the sheer disregard shown in Rick Warren's attacks on the simple hope of gay and lesbian people to marry.  And that lacuna of understanding shows a serious blind spot in Obama's empathy towards others.  If this, then what other blind spots will he reveal in the next four years?  Will this have consequences in the way Obama wields power in the world?  Someone who cannot see the serious flaw in Rick Warren's ideology will possibly not see serious flaws in others' belief structures as well.  Barack Obama is tough -- I'm not disputing that.  He appears to be kind too.  But is he wise?

We'll see.  My demolusionment -- the distance between my own imaginings and things as they really must be in a pluralistic, democratic polity -- officially begins today.  

Evolution Is Not a Bedtime Story

So Mike Huckabee, a candidate for President of the United States in the first decade of the 21st Century, does not believe in evolution.

It boggles the mind.

When you watch him dismiss the scientific consensus of our age so cheerfully, so casually, you realize that his mind was boggled long ago by the the ancient sky-god religion of his upbringing.

It makes me reflect on what boggling I am doing to my children's minds.

Last night, for example, I boggled my son's mind.

I had run the King Arthur's court story I had been telling into the ground... Something about Merlin riding a white horse, with a random Prince behind him, who had been tied up by an evil "Mordrake," who had drunk a potion which an eagle had carried for a Princess but dropped... It wasn't working. The pieces had become too unwieldy for both of us. And anyway, the Prince seemed like a bit of a dolt.

So I closed it out with a quick marriage between the Prince and Princess, and even a "happily ever after," to seal the deal.

Searching for an alternative story to tell, something with a clearer trajectory, I landed on the story of evolution.

I started by telling about "this one fish" who tried to walk on the sand... Then, after some intermediate steps, the fish, or rather, its descendents, grew arms!

They lost their scales. They grew fur all over their bodies. They became monkeys!

Then they lost their fur. Their arms grew shorter. And they became people!

"And that's how we became people! Aren't you glad that you are a person and not a monkey?"

At this point, from the look on George's face, it was clear that I had boggled his mind. And not in a good way.

He was, shall we say, concerned.

After a long pause in which he eyed me suspiciously, George lifted his head from the pillow.

"Dad, dad," he said.

"Yeah?"

"Tell me the story where the fish stays in the water."

He was basically asking me to reverse-engineer this whole evolution thing. He would rather stay a fish, thank you very much, than have to worry about slipping back to being a monkey, or looking down to find short, scaly arms, or any of the other, completely unscientific oddities I had conjured. I couldn't blame him.

"Sure," I said. "There was a fish, and he just kept swimming around in the water, and he never even tried to take any step on the sand. And he swam down to the bottom of the water with his family and they all ate some... moss off a rock."

I began to back out of the room.

"Is that what fish eat?" George asked, his curiosity back. We had taken a walk the day before and I had pointed out moss ("Look, George, grass that grows on walls -- that's called moss!"). It was all coming together.

"That's right," I said confidently. "Underwater it's called algae. They also eat little shrimp."

And with that I left the room before I did any more damage.

Next time I talk evolution with the kids, I think I'll avoid the bedtime story format. Maybe I'll even have some visual aids ready.

Much unboggling to do.

An Aesthetic Critique of the Candidates' Christmas Videos

So the candidates on both sides have released their "Christmas" videos (I say "Christmas," because it is more accurate, although some campaigns hedge and call them "Seasonal" or "Holiday" videos).

Twinkling lights, bright sweaters, warm smiles, knitted stockings and, whenever possible, adorable children, are all featured, as you might expect.

There's been a lot of chatter in the blogs about Huckabee's assertion that "what really matters is the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ," or Barack and Michelle Obama's inclusion of their girls in the fireside scene, or Hillary Clinton's assortment of policy proposals for the American people...

But let's get away from the politics for a moment. I think it's high time for a critique of these videos, not for their content, but for their use of the medium.

As a filmmaker myself, I consider myself obligated to bear down and watch these babies.

What are the aesthetics of these videos?

In other words, what message do they convey, behind the words. It's a visual medium; we have to remember that what these videos are actually doing is showing something.

Let's start with my favorite candidate, so we can get my own agenda out of the way:

Barack Obama

The first thing I noticed is the tense body language, despite the warm atmosphere.

I believe that this family is genuinely close, so I'm assuming that this is the 5th or 6th -- or 22nd! -- take, and they have grown increasingly tense as the minutes turned to an hour. I've seen it happen.

Perhaps technical issues (sound, lighting, framing) dragged the taping out. Perhaps the girls got restless, or had an argument about who got to sit on their dad's lap.

Whatever the facts, the result is that Michelle and Barack talk in a friendly, but curiously exacting way. Listen to the way Michelle's voice bounces rhythmically with the words of the opening: "We'd-like-to-take-a-moment to thank YOU and your FAMILY for the WARMTH and friendship that you've shown ouuurs." That sounds like someone who has grown weary of saying the same thing.

One visual element also immediately stands out to me: those spooky shadows of stockings on the wall above the fireplace. They are definitely intentional -- I would guess to convey the warmth of candlelight, and to add some texture to the background. But they hang behind this family in such a way as to evoke the aesthetics of film noir. Touch of Evil and Double Indemnity are usually not the best sources of inspiration for campaign videos

The books on the table in front of them suggest upper middle-class coffee table art books -- signaling a home of broad intellectual curiosity. The Christmas tree is discreet -- and notably designed instead of ad hoc (the red and amber theme stands out).

This is a house well under control. No holiday madness here.

As for Obama, he speaks in the same overly exacting way that Michelle does. Worse, it looks as if he gestures too closely to his daughter Malia's face a few times. I know it is an optical illusion (when zoomed in -- which creates a nice tight focus on the subjects with a blurry background -- the distance between objects can seem shorter than it really is), and I know that Obama often gestures this way to make a point, but it made me nervous the first time I watched it.

Then there's the telling moment. The parents have finished speaking and it's time for the girls to add their "Merry Christmas" and "Happy holidays." Watch how Barack and Michelle anticipate the girls' lines -- after all, it is hard not to after multiple takes. They both turn sharply just before their daughters speak. By doing this, they confirm for us -- it hits our subconscious, the eyes miss nothing -- that these are canned lines. It does, however avoid what would be worse: if the parents feigned surprise when their daughters spoke.

The overall effect of the video is actually a grudging one, which is -- and here, perhaps, my agenda is showing -- what I think makes it work. I get the sense, watching this video, that the Obamas are not at all comfortable with the megalomaniacal charm required to pull of a warm Christmas message to the entire nation. A tension fills the air, and it is the tension of a real family being asked -- for political purposes -- to do something patently ridiculous: wish 300 million Americans Merry Christmas.

Okay, let's turn to a Republican:

Rudy Giuliani

Like the Obamas, he sits in front of a Christmas tree. But -- it leaps out at you -- where is his family? Of course we know the answer to that question (reminding voters of Judith -- his divorce, their affair, the puppies -- is not helpful, and his kids are, well, a little distant, shall we say).

Instead of surrounding himself with progeny, Rudy dons a red sweater vest and a red tie. With his glasses and this combo he comes off looking like your friendly neighborhood pharmacist, all decked out for the holidays. It's actually quite winsome. And he can refill your Lipitor prescription if you need that too!

When he says he may get a fruitcake for America, someone off-camera questions him: "A fruitcake?" And Giuliani leans forward with his peculiar, aggressive charisma to someone whom we never see. This is a very post-modern move -- breaking the frame of the film. He can thank Goddard and the French New Wave (although I don't think that would be to his advantage in South Carolina). The effect is funny -- and surprising.

Interestingly, Giuliani is often called "insane," or some other nutty confection, by his critics. And the video of him in drag, kissing Donald Trump, is, one would guess, a political liability. So this mention of wanting to get America a "fruitcake" is a good double-fake move. If he were really a fruitcake he wouldn't be so comfortable talking about them.

The only false note is the Hillaryesque laugh, apropo of nothing, at the end when he says "Happy Holidays."

Giuliani has another ad too, with Santa laughing at his wish that the candidates all just get along. Rudy's wearing the same red and white sweater vest. This video suggests visually that he may be working for Santa Clause -- or at least on the same team. You can watch it here.

Okay, let's go to Hillary Clinton:

Immediately you notice the much-ballyhooed "professionalism" of the Clinton campaign. The video is edited snappily to the music soundtrack. The images -- close-ups of wrapping, cutting with scissors, etc. -- are framed tightly, which is the current standard for Hollywood shot selection. The lighting has that big budget studio gloss to it -- warm and muted all at once, as if this video is an outtake from, oh I don't know, Seabiscuit. The sound design is detailed (listen for that crinkling sound as the cards are placed under the bows -- all added in post). We see a tilt on "Universal Health Care," a pan on "Alternative Energy," a rack focus on "Bring the Troops Home."

And then the music pauses on the reveal of Hillary herself. The room is light...

INT. LIVING ROOM -- DAY

A woman sits comfortably on a couch, wrapping presents.

This scene, complete with throw pillows, captures those private, unnoteworthy moments that women share, taking care of the wrapping of presents, completing a project, preparing something wonderful for the family. The point is that Hillary seems to be enjoying it. Message: she is one of us.

Only there is a slight scratch in the record, so to speak. It comes just at the end. As Hillary exclaims, "Oh!" we are to understand that she has just located the present which matches the card "Universal Pre-K" -- good so far. But then she commits a beginner's acting mistake. She repeats the exclamation as she grabs the present: "Ah!" It rings false. We know that she already had her discovery moment. So what is this second "ah"?

Just like the entire Hillary Clinton for President campaign, this second "ah" suggests that Hillary knew where she was going all along. The double discovery shows that there never was a discovery. Everything has been orchestrated to reveal "discoveries" to us -- the voters -- when they are useful. Hillary is even prepared to experience those discoveries a second or third time (e.g. President Bush cannot be trusted!) when this may score additional political points.

And please, someone in the Clinton video production unit tell me why they froze that awkward frame at the end, with her smile half open, and zoomed in slowly, as she says, "I approve this message." It looks as if she has been caught red-handed, and we have a photograph to show it.

Onward to the Repubicans!

Mike Huckabee:

A red sweater, a white collar. Like Giuliani, Huckabee apparently works with Santa.

Otherwise, it couldn't be more different. There is no French New Wave or cinema of alienation here. The borders are not porous. There is just a straightforward point made: what really matters is the celebration of the birth of Jesus -- oh, and that you can count on Mike Huckabee to say that without apologies or unease of any kind.

Huckabee does everything that the Obamas resisted. He turns on the charm, the eyebrow-lifting, shoulder-shrugging charm of the best kind of salesman, the kind that means it, as he wishes an entire nation to have a "magnificent" Christmas.

Yes, yes, and there is a giant white cross over his right shoulder. Your point?

This video has all the simplicity and folksy charm of the best propaganda. It knows what it is selling (just as its subject does) and it goes about selling it. Its best analog is an Ipod ad on TV -- you always see the iPod up front and center, and there's always music playing on it. Well for Huckabee, Christianity is his music, and bass-player that he is, he knows how to keep a tune.

What about John Edwards:

We see the same Christmas tree hovering over the right shoulder. But this time the candidate is in a black suit, a white shirt, and a dark tie. Sober, unflashy, dedicated to the cause.

The implication of this dress code is that Edwards will be working for you, even during the holidays. He's that dedicated.

The music is unremarkable: a gathering-moment piano piece. But it does raise the stakes emotionally. It seems to be building to something. And Edwards talks directly to us, as Huckabee did. He means it.

There's the problem of his stuffed-up nose, adding a nasally quality to his voice. But otherwise we focus on him and him alone for the duration of the video.

The background does not suggest anything fancy at all. The tree is nondescript, the wood-framed picture on the wall, the wood paneling -- everything suggests a middle-class living room, or even a modest hotel room.

I think this is a strong video. It highlights Edwards' most endearing trait -- his commitment to making things better. Edwards' appeal is emotional (unlike Obama's, which like JFK's is more cerebral). And this ad does all the right things to create a sense of stirring emotion, held back only by the sobriety required to get the job done.

Back to the Republican side:

Mitt Romney

Okay, this is not technically a Christmas video like the others. This is a video of Mitt Romney and his family sledding together. It was posted by the campaign on December 17 -- so it must have been last weekend?

It's a relief to see a video that looks as if it documents a real-life event. Of course it is partly staged for the camera operator, but you do get the sense that there did take place an actual afternoon of sledding at some undisclosed location, with actual members of the Romney family (and their dogs) in attendance.

The video has a documentary feel, but like all good documentaries it tells a story. The story is that Mitt is a man who is different from his sons. They may be more self-aware and willing to open up to strangers (two of them admit to being "lazy"; another says he is "in awe" of his dad). They may be more socially at ease (we see them lounging on the couch without a clear mandate; Mitt is conspicuously absent).

But they never forget that he is their hero.

He is a tireless worker (we see him shoveling snow). He is caring (he reassures a youngster -- his son? -- that he will "do his best" not to let him "hit the pole"). He is frugal (he prefers the gloves from last year with duct tape holding them together). He hates waste of any kind ("Go leave the water running and see how quickly that will last," comments one of his boys).

The story it tells is that of Mitt overcoming whatever obstacles his family meets (snow, poles, failing gear, running faucets). He may not be the most accessible guy, but it is only because he is so busy doing stuff. If you knew him like we know him, he would be your hero too.

It's effective. I wish more political ads took this raw-footage, shooting from the hip documentary form. The distortion is still there, but it's in the editing not the performance of the candidate -- you get glimpses of the real person behind the mask.

Finally, the only other viable candidate in the race:

John McCain

A prisoner of war story. A black and white photo of McCain as a young man. The older McCain's calm voice recounting it. He tells a heartwarming story of a guard easing his misery. And then the image:

A cross drawn in the ground with a stick.

This video has the starkness of a documentary, but the iconographic power of a religious story. It matches Huckabee's white, glowing, "coincidental" cross (formed by the sections of a bookcase) with a genuine, intentional cross, infused with meaning and history.

For my part, I think it is a powerful rejoinder to Huckabee. But the lasting impression of the video is not its image of the cross. The lasting impression is the one left by the black and white images and the unaffected tone in McCain's voice: suffering, hard-earned wisdom, sadness, quiet resolve. Those may be important and moving aspects of his experience, but I don't think they draw votes.

The McCain ad is a Christmas video done in the Ken Burns' style -- elegiac and cold.

*

Well, that completes my round-up critique of the candidates' videos. In then end I would rank them in two ways. Once for my personal preference:

1. Romney's "cinema verité documentary" style.
2. McCain's "Ken Burns' elegiac" style
3. Edwards' "I'm out here working for you" direct appeal
4. Obama's "I-will-sit-for-this-but-this-kind-of-self-aggrandizement-is-forced" style
5. Giuliani's "French New Wave Santa sidekick comedy" style
6. Hillary's Hollywood big-studio style
7. Huckabee's "direct propagandistic" style

My second list is in order of effectiveness:

1. Edwards'
2. Huckabee's
3. Obama's
4. Giuliani's
5. Hillary's
6. Romney's
7. McCain's

After all that, while we're on the subject of Christmas videos, check out this inexplicably hilarious video (hat tip: Andrew Sullivan):

I'll be writing occasionally next week, but back to daily entries again in January. Happy holidays to everyone!
Tom

Paris Hilton: A Threshold Question for Civilization

Something that Sam Harris said in his "Four Horsemen" conversation with Hitchens, Dennett and Dawkins (see Monday's post) struck me.

Near the end of their two hour talk about the future of religion, Harris urged nonbelievers to admit that there is something not quite right with our free-wheeling contemporary culture: it's all about money-making, tawdriness, celebrity-worshiping -- you know the litany of complaints.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Harris' larger point was that those of us who stand outside of religious traditions should work to develop a "spiritual" language of our own (except with "no bullshit," as the soft-spoken Harris surprisingly said). Harris hopes that such a language could express our longings for experiences which are distinct from the daily effluvia of our lives.

With that point I agree. We need to talk about the profound experiences we have which give us new perspectives and sometimes overwhelm us with emotion, our visions and inspirations, what is sometimes called the "oceanic feeling." These are important experiences to us, and they will continue to be -- with or without religion. They reach beyond the everyday.

But Harris' casual dismissal of contemporary culture (and the ready assent of the other three to this dismissal) struck me.

The more I thought about it, I realized that many of us have a conflicted view of contemporary culture. In any given moment we may consider it to be: a) the most dazzling display of symbol-generating, meme-producing, endlessly morphing, gloriously nobrow, creative flourishing that the world has ever known; or b) an ever-shifting representation of the broken lives and misplaced hopes of countless lonely, lost human beings, cynically repackaged by some of those same in order to make a buck.

Well, which is it?

This, it occurs to me, is a threshold question for those of us who would urge our fellow-citizens to free themselves from the grip of the ancient texts of religions and the creaky belief-systems of centuries past. It is also a threhold question for parents as they introduce their children to the larger culture around them.

Do we like contemporary culture? If not, then what are we doing immersed in it?

Or to put it more directly: Can we all come together now and celebrate Paris Hilton?

Whatever you think of her personally (in my case, I pretty much draw a blank), I say we can and should.

That doesn't mean you need to read about her in the supermarket tabloids or watch her on TV. It doesn't even mean you need ever to mention her name to your spouse or your children. The great thing about being alive today is: You can pick and choose which parts of the culture you want to enage.

But make no mistake. I am saying it without apologies. I am saying it with pride: The effluvia is the culture. There is no sacred truth buried underneath. There are experiences which stand apart from the effluvia, but they are profoundly personal and do not point to some metaphysical realm which we could reach if only we were more pure of mind.

Yes, you have to do some navigating through the morass of other people's interests and hang-ups and diversions, but what is the alternative? Do you want someone else to screen out the Paris Hiltons of the world for you?

In that case, you might never be able to enjoy the gifts of another "it girl" of her day, who was discovered on the streets of New York for her looks alone but turned out to be immensely talented: Chloe Sevigny. It takes work this way, but you get the rewards of diversity and feedback loops and rare discoveries.

And the world would be a more barren place without the Chloe Sevignys and the Paris Hiltons.

The Big Lie that Religious People Tell One Another

The big lie that religious people tell one another is not that God exists.

That is the small lie.

Any claim which goes unsupported by evidence -- and moreover, does not even consider evidence (except reports of "miracles") to be necessary -- can only be described as small, since it is insubstantial, no more than a hunch really.

Sure, this little lie about God can get elaborated into something solemn and serious enough to command the adherence of wonderful, well-meaning people all over the world... But it's really just -- what shall we call it? -- a goof, a conjecture, a stab in the dark.

We all know people who believe that it is "Our Father Who Art in Heaven" who exists (some may be reading this post -- hello!). Others say it is Allah; others Vishnu. Others the Flying Spaghetti Monster (a site I recommend, if for nothing else than for its impressive control of tone).

For the nonbeliever, these lies are perhaps amusing, sometimes engaging, sometimes even deadly, but little lies. No more.

The big lie that religious people tell is that a world without God is a world without hope or meaning.

On the last day of November, Pope Benedict XVI issued an encyclical which parroted this lie.

The New York Times, true to form on the topic of atheism, then echoed this lie uncritically in an article entitled, "In Pope's Latest Teaching, an Argument for Hope, Not Atheism, in the Face of Struggle." (For the internet edition the title was shortened to "Pope Stresses Hope in Latest Teaching." If I were an editor at the Times, simply as a matter of saving space, I would just go with "Pope Stresses" -- and lose the rest. It works!)

Here's the letter which I wrote to the New York Times after seeing that article (it went unpublished -- no surprise):

Re: "In Pope's Latest Teaching, an Argument for Hope, Not Atheism, in the Face of Struggle," December 1, 2007.

As an atheist, I recognize that, for many religious people, their faith brings them great hope for the future (the "ocean of infinite love" that Pope Benedict XVI describes, as well as other rewards in this life).

I would only ask that religious people stop insisting that my outlook on life is correspondingly hopeless and meaningless. On the contrary, my atheism gives me great hope; it renews my commitment to creating, with others, a world filled with love, fairness, empathy, and other good things, since, in all likelihood, this is it folks!

Yes, we nonbelievers must avoid utopian dreams of forever changing the human condition (e.g. the New Socialist Man or the Fourth Reich). But a belief that this life is all we have has a marvelous way of concentrating the mind on the need to listen to, and work with, other people. It gives you hope in humanity. It gives you hope that together we can make of our lives something worthwhile and beautiful.

This is my plea:

Please, my dear religious fellow-citizens of this country and the world, please stop telling the rest of us that our lives have no meaning. Our lives have meaning, I assure you. And you are part of it.

Even you, Pope Benedict XVI. Even you are part of the meaning of my family and my life.

*

For an enlightening discussion of faith and meaning by four great thinkers of our time -- Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris, Daniel Dennett and Christopher Hitchens, the "Four Horsemen" together at last -- click here.

The Secular End of Days: How Good People Get Greedy

Al Gore gave a stirring speech in Oslo on Monday, upon his acceptance of the Nobel Peace Prize.

As you might have expected, he made the case that people all over the world are burying their heads in the sand when it comes to global warming. With his unique tone (mixing, as it always does, self-consciousness and high-mindedness), Gore urged that we all need to pull our heads out of the sand and open our eyes. As he put it:

"'[W]hen large truths are genuinely inconvenient, whole societies can, at least for a time, ignore them. Yet as George Orwell reminds us: 'Sooner or later a false belief bumps up against solid reality, usually on a battlefield'."

When reading this part of Gore's speech, I experienced an epiphany. A goddamned epipany. And it wasn't just about global warming.

Here's what hit me: Gore is wrong on one crucial point. People are not ignoring the inconvenient truths of our time, such as the rising concentrations of CO2 in the atmosphere, or the extreme disparities in wealth in the world. On the contrary, despite their uncertainty as to specifics, people are very aware of these issues. Innundated by images and data from the internet and the media, people know what is going on.

I am not saying that people know the finepoints of the science or how to analyze the numbers. But we are not "imprisoned by a dangerous illusion," as Gore suggests; we do not need to awaken to a new "truth force"; we are not looking to be "steered by the stars". We get it.

It's how we're dealing with it that's the problem.

I would go so far as to say that, increasingly in the last 20 years or so, the central orienting position in people's minds in the developed world is that the good times are not going to last much longer.

So Gore is speaking to his audience of solutions and readiness, "a bright and hopeful future." He ends: "We have a purpose. We are many. For this purpose we will rise, and we will act."

But people have already heard the news. And they are not rising to the purpose he's got in mind. They are acting more and more out of a sense of scarcity -- they are digging in, battening down the windows, putting up higher, automated gates and fences, enjoying the holidays within their own small circle, shutting the world out.

Why do I say this?

Take a look at our political landscape. The health care debate, for example. Last night I saw Michael Moore's Sicko. In the film he points to the mystery of why, in a country of so many good, kind, charitable people, we do not consider it important to provide health care for all citizens. Well, guess why, Michael? It's because people have a sense that this ship is sinking anyway, and they better take care of their own family first. They have lost confidence in the idea of making a difference. At least, they reflect, they have their own private insurance plan, however unreliable. The idea of risking that for the larger community is suspect.

Or take our national debt and the growing debt for American households. What explains the conspicuous consumption of the superrich in this country? And the apparent lust felt by the consuming masses when they see the TV shows and the magazine spreads on this conspicuous consumption? What explains the desire of the many to imitate the luxury lifestyle of the few, even when it means falling into debt? The attitude, again, is: You better enjoy it now. It ain't gonna last.

Or take the so-called "hotbutton" issues in today's politics. The heat is the result of people's fear that America is in its end of days -- and the things we hold most dear are going to be snatched away soon. Immigration? What your hear on the Right is that the Mexicans are stealing our opportunities and want the land back (the myth of the "Reconquesta"!). The environment? The market-driven ads suggest that you better drive your yellow Humvee fast, while you can, before the oil supplies run out. Religion and politics? The impulse seems to be: if the end is coming, my values are my last defense -- and so I need to see them enshrined in law.

The global awareness brought on by the arrival of the information age has changed domestic priorities.

This is the secular end of days.

This is how good people get greedy.

*

What can I add from the perspective of a parent?

Well, let's bring it home.

It's like when you shouldn't eat those two remaining Christmas cookies on the plate left over from the party... but then again, if you just take them both then they will be gone and the anxiety you feel will be over. So you reach out and begin the binge that will herald the end. I don't mean to trivialize it, but ours is the left-over Christmas cookie era.

So how do we stop it? How do we reverse course? How do good people get un-greedy?

That is the true challenge ahead. It's not a question of ridding ourselves of ignorance; it's a question of ridding ourselves of our sense of coming loss.

As a parent, I try to emphazise to my children that they can have a cookie later. Or there will be some other treat after their nap. I emphasize that this is not their last great idea.

It strikes me that the environmental movement to end carbon emissions and reverse global warming will only work effectively when people have a vision of a treat on the other side of it. We have to develop a vision of a society which functions without carbon emissions, and with a more equal distribution of resources between and within nations.

But Communism is discredited. "Socialism" is vague. Green has become another political slogan. A widescale return to small, aboriginal communities is impractical. So what's the vision? What is the secular and nonreligious vision of the Second Coming? We need it more than we would like to admit.

And as Gore says, we may not have long. We have to learn to dream again.

Romney the Weatherman, Huckabee the Weather

It's a pattern, isn't it?

Mitt Romney, whose succesful career with Bain Capital essentially thrived on his talent as a salesman, aims above all to please.

When asked about interrogating terror suspects in a Fox debate in May he answered, outside of any considerations of practical need, that he would "double Guantanamo." When asked about immigration in the more recent CNN/YouTube debate he insisted that, unlike Giuliani, he would not condone any exceptions for illegals to report crimes or go to school -- lest we create sanctuary cities, sanctuary states, a sanctuary nation. He also claimed on that evening that he believes every word of the Bible -- "Yes!" he said to Anderson Cooper's direct question -- despite the position of his Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, which holds that it contains a multitude of errors, corrected in the Book of Mormon.

When Romney goes there, he goes there. Until he goes somewhere else. What we have here is a candidate whose strength is in his cheerful accomodation to almost anyone -- any potential customers, in the broad sense of the word -- who will advance his interests.

He is the "weatherman" that Bob Dylan sings about in Subterranean Homesick Blues (the one that "you don't need...to know which way the wind blows").

That's what is perhaps most troubling about Romney's speech yesterday. He is merely the weatherman, but the actual weather is coming our way.

I first noticed the barometer dropping when the Democratic candidates sat for a "Forum on Faith" in June and answered questions from Soledad O'Brien about their private religious views. Hillary spoke of "prayer warriors." Hmm. I didn't know about prayer warriors. Edwards insisted that "we are all sinners."

Oh, I thought. Thank you. Glad to be informed of that.

Then I thought I might have felt a first raindrop fall when, in a September debate on MSNBC, the Democratic candidates were asked their favorite Bible verse. No one flinched at the inappropriateness of this question, even though, to my ears at least, it verged on religious test for office. Think about it: Could you, if so inclined, actually decline to answer this? Would Tim Russert simply nod and go to the next candidate? Of course not. The next question would have been: Why? Are you not a believer? And that's getting pretty close to a religious test.

Obama helpfully mentioned Jesus' Sermon on the Mount. ("Love your enemy," I guess -- he's still rubbing it in that he will meet directly with the heads of state of North Korea and Iran where Hillary would dither).

Now I know it is not news that the candidates for President, on both sides, have religious convictions. But what is news is that their convictions are being foregrounded in their campaigns. Would it be such a stretch, even in this campaign, to imagine a candidate sporting a "cross pin" or a "crucifix pin" on the opposite side of his coat from the obligatory post 9-11 American flag pin? (You can imagine the... shall we say, disapprobrium, that would follow on Fox News if Obama, or any other candidate, suggested that he need not wear a cross on his lapel to prove his faith. Go at 'em Sean Hannity.)

The climate is indeed a-changing, and in more ways that one. Essentially what we saw yesterday was Romney announcing the weather -- a gathering storm of faith -- on TV.

And Huckabee? Huckabee is the weather.

Yesterday he claimed that his rise in the polls is the direct result of "thousands of people across this country who are praying that a little will become much." (Watch the video here.) Their prayers -- and God's resulting attentiveness to caucus-goers in Iowa -- are lifting Huckabee up, in what can only be described as a sacred updraft, to the highest seat of finite power in this world.

An Atheist Reponds to Mitt Romney's Speech on Religion

You can read Romney's full speech here or watch it on his website here.

As an atheist and a father of three young children, the speech Mitt Romney delivered at the George H. W. Bush presidential library today shocked me to my core.

If this is the drift of this country, towards a politics that explicitly excludes my standing as a worthy citizen because I do not believe in one of the major monotheistic religions, Christianity, Judaism or Islam, then I seriously do not know what I will do to sustain for myself, and instill in my children, the strong sense of belonging that I currently feel as a citizen.

I cherish my country; I cherish our history, our laws and our principles, including the First Amendment in the Bill of Rights, guaranteeing freedom of speech and the separation of church and state. As a non-believer who believes that it is this life which matters, my sense of morality is inextricably tied to my sense of belonging as a citizen.

Indeed, this sense of belonging runs deep. I consider myself to be unavoidably emeshed in the concerns of my fellow-citizens (as well as, more broadly, the concerns of all of the people on this planet). That is my challenge and my inspiration as I try to live my life well, and guide my children to do the same.

In the speech he gave today, Romney threatened to take part of my core identity away from me.

This is a direct quotation from his speech:

"Freedom requires religion just as religion requires freedom. Freedom opens the windows of the soul so that man can discover his most profound beliefs and commune with God. Freedom and religion endure together, or perish alone."

Although he addressed the speech to all Americans, he was not talking to me when he gave this speech. Romney made it perfectly clear that as President he would represent non-believers like me with reluctance at best. We do not fit into his idea of Americans; we are an after-thought.

If the two political parties in this country are headed towards the conclusion that, as an atheist, I am not a true American, then my family and I will, in effect, be sent into political exile. For me (as for the ancient Athenians, who also valued political partipation as a part of the core of a person's identity), exile robs life of its meaning.

Romney, unwittingly or not, for reasons of political expediency or not, threatened me with political -- and therefore, for a non-believer, spiritual -- exile in his speech today.

My first reaction, upon reading the words of the speech, was to feel my heart beating faster, as if I was facing a threat to the safety of my family. It's strange how our bodys' survival instincts, buried deep in our brains, warn us before we even have time to reflect on why.

My second reaction is to redouble my commitment to working for a future where, some day, Romney's view on the central place of religion in American life is considered a relic of a time when a great country, founded on the basis of equal consideration for all people, was held in thrall to a destructive, exclusionary myth called "faith."

A Non-Christian Talks to his Children About Death

I visited my grandparents' graves this weekend, and I didn't know what to say.

It all happened quickly, in the span of about five minutes.

We were just pulling out of the small town of Oakhurst (near Yosemite, where we had spent the night after a friend's wedding). Glad to be all snug and warm in the car, on our way home after a long night in the Best Western motel, we headed toward the highway.

But then saw the small, asphalt road to the cemetery, tucked behind a fast-food restaurant on our right. I remembered that I had planned to visit my grandparents' graves. It's not often that we make it to their old hometown.

I made the turn.

Rolling to a stop alongside the green grassy oval of the cemetery, I hopped out of the car, and, thinking it would be interesting to my oldest son too, I unfastened 3-year-old George from his child's seat. He came tumbling out of the car.

We walked past a few headstones and then looked down at the modest, metal (iron?) plaques showing the final "resting place" of his great grandmother and great grandfather.

That's when I realized I had a problem.

"Look, George. Here they are. That's where your great grandparents are... Stan and Catherine Stavrum." I started by stating the facts as best I knew them.

He looked down at the dark gray rectangles in the grass, then back up at me blankly.

"They had to go away..." I said uncertainly. "They died."

He waited for me to continue.

"But now... they are..."

What? "Sleeping"? No, that's silly. And in the moment it struck me as downright frightening for a 3-year-old, too. Who wants to sleep forever? How do you know it's not going to be forever when you go to sleep on any given night? It raised too many troubling issues.

Plus it was a lie.

So I changed the subject.

"They lived here in Oakhurst. They had a house here, by a river."

George pointed to their two metal plaques, like two rooms in an architectural plan.

"Is that their house?" he asked, putting two and two together.

"No..." I said. I looked down with him. I was still not sure what level of metaphor, what softening language, to use for the occasion. Maybe in some sense these two graves are their "house" now? Maybe this grassy oval is?

"No, that's not their house," I continued. "But they are here now, in the ground. And it's beautiful. Look at the sun!"

He followed my pointing finger to gaze at the orb of the sun, rising yellow in a mist over the nearby hills.

I took his hand and we walked back in the brisk air, our mouths breathing steam.

He didn't say another word about it. But I knew that I needed to come up with a better way of talking about death with my kids. As I slid into my seat, my wife said, "How did it go?"

"We've got to talk," I said quietly and turned the ignition.

"Yeah," she said, knowing exactly what I meant.

*

Some people would have no problem with this one. "Grandma and Grandpa are in Heaven!" is easy to say and sounds uplifting. If your child asks more questions, talk about God and angels, the Oneness of Love, even clouds.

But I believe that teaching children to honor top-down, faith-based ideological systems (see the major monotheistic religions, or for that matter, secular state ideologies which preach blind faith and devotion to some authority figure) is tantamount to child abuse. Richard Dawkins and others have written powerfully on this theme, and it appears frequently in readers' comments on Dawkins' website richarddawkins.net.

Below you will find the most-viewed user-generated video in America. Nearly 4 million people have watched it. Here we have a simple scene, an adorable girl reciting Psalm 23 in her family's kitchen. It's hard not to smile at her innocence and her concern about getting the words right ("Surely?" she keeps asking as a point of clarification).

But from my vantage point, what we are witnessing here is an indoctrination into the cult of not-thinking and in-group mentality. Before our very eyes, this girl is learning how to abdicate responsibility for her own values. Instead, she is learning to rest her natural moral sense (can you imagine this girl willfully doing harm to another person?) in the all-too-eager hands of the many authority figures who will claim to represent the Way of Jesus Christ. In ten years or less she will probably hold pointless, hurtful beliefs about why some people are not entitled to love and marry those whom they choose. And if she happens to talk about religion and morality with me someday, she may shed a tear about how my family will burn in hell.

Watch it with these parenting issues in mind and it changes the experience:

So easy (and false) answers about "heaven" are not an option for me and my wife. That would be damaging to our children, we believe.

But that doesn't help us when it comes to finding answers that do fit the occasion of visiting my grandparents' graves.

After pondering this question some, here is what I have resolved:

1. I will give the children more information rather than less. That means everything. The truth as I far as I know it.

2. To the extent that there is a strong possibility that individual consciousness ends and nothing replaces it (except a slow or quick mixing of the physical body with the earth, depending on whether you opt for burial or cremation), I will acknowledge the full scope of my feelings about it. It is upsetting, seen in some lights. But it is inspiring too, seen in others. We need to talk about our emotional responses to the knowledge of death, even our fear of dying.

3. I will never presume to know exactly what happens after we breathe our last breath, since the truth is that no one knows.

4. I will use the occasion to remember and celebrate those people who are no longer with us. Next time the deaths of my grandparents comes up with my children, I plan to tell a story or two about them. It will be a treat.

Who Gets to Ask the Big Questions?

Advances in genetics, neuroscience, brain imaging, and other areas are turning the Big Questions over to scientists.

The old Big Questions -- "What is the nature of goodness?" "What is free will?" "Who am I?" "Why does God allow catastrophes like earthquakes?" -- have the effect of that odd and slightly embarrassing statuary which you might find in the corner of a dusty antique store. Most of us just keep walking.

The new Big Questions, the ones that make us stop, are often more specific:

"How do mirror neurons in the angular gyrus allow us to empathize with other people?"

Or:

"If, as one study showed, 300 milliseconds usually elapses between a wave of brain activity and our conscious decision to take an action, does that mean that our sense of free will is just that, a mere trick of consciousness after our brain has already triggered the action?"

On the one hand, it's refreshing to dump the cant of philosophy and the filigreed talk of theology, and replace these ancient discourses with the stuff of science.

But here's the rub. Science is complicated. And its results come in bits and pieces, through experimentation, double-blind studies, the slow accumulation of data. So, by and large, we leave it to journalists to give us progress reports. And journalism is not designed to address the Big Questions.

Journalism is written to deadline. It is usually written by generalists. It relies on the memorable detail and the quick turn-of-phrase to sell copy.

In the days of the old Big Questions, journalists generally stayed away, since there wasn't much to report (except perhaps... "Bernard Williams' latest response to Parfit's thoughts on diachronic identity!" which doesn't make a very good headline).

But now, with the Big Questions migrating out of the cluttered offices of philosophers and theologians into the labs of scientists, journalists are finding that they have something to write about:

Data!

Who cares if the data is conflicted, or incomplete, or if its implications would take some seriously complicated explaining to convey properly? Data is a ripe peach hanging off a tree, an easy filler, for journalists.

And this presents a problem for us, as readers and parents.

Take, for example, two articles in yesterday's New York Times:

The first, This is Your Brain on Politics, could be found on the back page of the Week in Review. I read it and felt an immediate sense of frustration. Brandon Keim of Wired debunks it here. Thank you, Brandon Keim.

The second, from the same day, In DNA Era, New Worries About Prejudice, skimmed over recent findings in genetics to warn about the controversies that these findings might provoke. It linked to a blog called Half Sigma, in which there is a cursory and inconclusive discussion about the possibility of IQ differences between races. It is an example of that against which it warns.

What we have here is a trickling out (and articles about trickling out doing more trickling out) of inconclusive scientific data.

Now there's nothing wrong with the inconclusive nature of science -- indeed, that is why it is the last, best hope of humankind, in my opinion. Science is a language game which recognizes, even celebrates, the inconclusiveness of knowledge. It shows an appreciation of process, and it therefore implies a faith in the efforts of people to adjust, refine, change for the better. I'm all for that.

But the inconclusiveness of science does not match up well with our insatiatable need for certainty, stability, consistency. As animals under stress, we constantly seek a means of making decisions today, now, with what we know at the present. People don't have time for process on a daily basis.

So how will it play out? As science gives us provocative slices into the Big Questions, will we zig and zag as it tells us dubious findings as to race and IQ, the female brain, children and music? Or will we learn to rely on some other frame of reference, some new approach for this new age?

What will be our lodestar after we accept that true knowledge is not, and will never be, forthcoming?

Sam Harris Rejects Being Called an "Atheist"

Sam Harris, author of The End of Faith and Letter to a Christian Nation, both books which I admired, recently gave a speech at the Atheist Alliance conference in Washington D.C.

In it, he raised questions that are relevant to parents (like me) who are searching for a way to talk to our children about religion while not being religious ourselves.

Harris says we should not label ourselves "atheists" because that only plays into the hands of those who would like to marginalize non-religious people. And it also sets up a crude dichotomy between "people of faith" and the... faithless? This dichotomy gets in the way of more nuanced discussions of ideologies of all kinds and their specific commands, rules, catechisms, influences.

As he puts it: "The problem is that the concept of atheism imposes upon us a false burden of remaining fixated on people’s beliefs about God and remaining even-handed in our treatment of religion."

Sam argues instead that we should simply advocate reason, humility, doubt, science, arts, and other values which we aspire to in our own lives. The speech generated a lot of controversy at the conference.

You can read Harris' speech here.

When Religion Comes Up in a Secular Home

I'm still thinking about Burma...

My children are only 3, 2 and 5 months, so I have not yet had the opportunity to discuss religion with them at length -- or really, at all. So how do I talk to them about the monks making news in Burma?

As someone who believes that the major monotheistic (read "sky-god") religions of Judaism, Christianity and Islam are dangerous and lamentable -- yes, I am with Sam Harris, Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens and the "New Atheists" here -- I have a certain amount of reluctance about broaching the subject of religion with my children. When I do talk religion with them, I hope that we will be able to discuss these Iron Age fairy tales (with various embellishments and borrowings), blood-soaked as they are, with a view to their decidedly mixed history.

It seems too complicated a topic to open up just yet. They have enough to worry about when it comes to Lex Luther and monsters in the closet. I would like to wait.

But how do I talk about the monks?

Can I describe them neutrally? Or does it open a floodgate of supernatural thinking to discuss even this distant religious tradition with my children at this early age? Should I just dodge the subject altogether?

Of course I don't want to dodge anything when it comes to my children. I want to answer their questions in the most appropriate way I can. So here goes:

Let's imagine that my oldest, George, catching sight of a report on Burma tonight on TV, asks: "Who are those funny orange guys, Daddy?"

I believe that, for now, I would avoid the dogma of Buddhism. It's too early to get into enlightenment and reaching nirvana. Instead I would focus on the tradition in that country for young men to choose a life of quiet and contemplation, where they can dedicate themselves to being attentive to the details of their existence: a bowl or rice, a ceremony, a gesture... I would tell him that they live together in monastaries, where they do all the work and sit still for long periods. In efffect I would secularize what they do.

Some religious people may criticize my approach to talking to my children. They would ask me to acknowledge the courage, the love for humanity, and the steadfastness which the monks' Buddhism -- their form of religiosity -- gives them. Is this not evidence of a benefit from religious devotion? Doesn't it at least support the idea that religion is a spur to social transformation?

I hear these arguments, but I am not convinced of this link. And therefore I think it would be too blunt a message, as well as misleading for a child of his age, to tell him about their religious status as monks.

I know that in Burma today (and in the U.S., say, during the civil rights movement of the 1960s) acts of unbelievable courage are taken with a religious pretext. And the language of religion certainly expresses many of the longings of those on the front-lines of change. Yet I would argue that this religious aspect to these movements is not inextricable to it. It is the legacy of millenia of religious tradition, based in ancient texts and superstitions, whether in Burma or here. It may provide the symbols and language of the movement, but without these symbols and language the movement would stand on even stronger footing.

Replace the saffron robes -- or the clerical collars -- with a group of diversely dressed people with flushed faces, and you get the same result: a picture of human beings banding together to do something greater than themselves.

I am in awe of the Burmese monks who walked the streets of Rangoon and now find themselves in mortal danger. They have done something great -- I will never forget it. In saying this, I do not believe that I also need to feel awe for their religious commitments, ceremonies, and stories. These may have aesthetic value (I'm sure they do, as do temple, church and mosque services in our more familar traditions), but that does not translate to something important that I must tell my child at this early point in his development.

As my children get older, of course we will talk about the attractions of religion, as well as the distractions and delusions it causes in otherwise kind and forthright people. But now is not the time.

The religious side of the Burma situation is secondary. The people are primary.

Why Democrat Dad?

This blog will explore the intersection of politics and parenting. I invite other dads, moms, or anyone else who is interested, to contribute to the conversation. My intention is to write every day on some issue which connects politics with parenting.

Why "Democrat Dad"?

I am a citizen and a Democrat, and I believe that these are not mere labels. They are important aspects of myself.

Why is my political identity so important that I feel compelled to write a blog about it? Well, I believe that we all have a responsibility to take politics seriously.

Those of us worried or enraged or disillusioned about our country cannot simply escape, drop out, or (romantic as it sounds) "drop off the grid," without losing much of what we cherish about ourselves.

I agree with Aristotle here (see his Politics) that human beings, choosing to exist outside of their community, are abdicating part of themselves. They are living as either "god or beast" -- the lives of monks or hermits, but not something that is recognizable to me.

My values are informed by the opinions of others; and this is not a point of shame. We are social creatures. We respond to praise and blame. Our participation in society is a pre-condition of language and a basis for morality.

I am enamored of our country and its laws. When I think of it... when I picture the whole whirring, clicking machine going like crazy on any given day... I am inspired to believe the best of my fellow-citizens and our future, all over again.

Through multiple decisions at many municipal, state and federal levels, through checks and balances of the different branches of government, through experments in legislation taking place concurrently in the states and in Washington D.C., through elections for offices ranging from a seat on the local school board to the Presidency of the United States -- through all of this never-ceasing activitiy -- our system of law provides what I like to think of as a perfect fit.

Think of it as a complex, ever-adjusting, digital map of the analog curve of our collective needs. And it is all thanks to the best "software" ever designed for the organizing of human beings and their diverse interests: the Constitution.

I am a citizen of this country, and proud of it. And politically, I am a member of the Democratic Party.

Hence, Democrat Dad.

Please join me. I look forward to thinking through parenting from a political perspective -- with you as my fellow-parents and fellow-citizens. Fellow Democrats of course are invited. Republican Dads and Moms too! Let's get started!