Qu'est-ce que la liberté d'expression ?

On January 7th, Muslim terrorists shot up the offices of the French satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo, killing 12 people in retaliation for the depiction of Mohammed in cartoon form. Many Americans decried this violent act as an attack on free speech itself, and the hashtag #JeSuisCharlie reached historic popularity on Twitter. The magazine, for its part, printed its next cover with another depiction of Islam's founding Prophet. This cover is considered by many to be an act of defiance, and perhaps a dig at the sincerity of the publication's new-found supporters.

In the fallout from this horrific event, battle lines were drawn between those whose first instinct was to warn against retaliatory "Islamophobia"and those who insist this latest attack is further evidence that Islam is cancerous to humanity. Frankly, I fall more on the latter side. But while Islam is its own (enormous) issue, I want to discuss the supposed ultimate victim of the attack: free speech.

Free speech or freedom of expression is a huge priority in American and Western society. It's in the First Amendment, listed as an unalienable right that government may not infringe upon. So, what does it mean? Why is it so important? And why would someone want to attack it?

As to the first question, there's a substantial disagreement in this country about what freedom of speech should look like. While both the political Right and Left pay lip service to the idea that we the people should be able to hold and express any opinion, their respective reactions to what actually gets said paints a different picture. The Right wanted the offensive cartoons to be displayed without restriction, as evidenced by its mockery and derision of media outlets who censor the images, while the Left wants to use the massacre as a teaching moment in support of hate speech laws. One side wants speech to be unfettered and left to society to self-regulate, while the other wants concrete limitations in order to protect people from potential danger.

While complete freedom of speech leaves the door open for vile and offensive things to be strewn throughout the general public, I contend that speech that must meet legislative approval isn't free at all. Words can harm on an emotional and psychological level, but policing them is an impossible task, ethical questions aside. You can say whatever you want, it's when you start doing things that I become truly concerned.

All that said, just because someone can say whatever he wants doesn't mean he should say anything he wants. If one rejects governmental control over such matters, one must turn to self-control and personal responsibility. Some on the Left have implied that Charlie Hebdo brought this attack on themselves and, in a way, deserve their fate for their lack of restraint and foresight (note: I'm not saying they've actually said that the people deserved to die, nor that they really think that, but I believe that's a distasteful consequence of their argument), and that's wrong on the most basic level. The ones to blame for the attack are the ones who committed it. There is, however, something to be said for being able to communicate strongly without giving deliberate offense. Insulting for the mere sake of insult is irresponsible, immature, essentially meaningless, and ideally would be rare and disowned in society.

Of course, the world and its various societies are not ideal. The murderous attack is proof enough of that. That is why I have no wish to scold Charlie Hebdo for its offensiveness, whether it be toward Muslims, Catholics, Jews, or anyone else. This leads me to the question from earlier: why, out of the groups I just mentioned, are Muslims the ones who tend to react violently to offense? Muslims believe the mere depiction, much less the mockery, of their Prophet is blasphemy, and thus some choose to take, in their minds, justified revenge through violence. But this does not entirely explain it. The work of "art" known as "Piss Christ," for example, was created, displayed, and depicted throughout media, and no one died because of it. Playboy had a naked Virgin Mary cover, and no Catholics shot them. Something, then, is different about the Muslim faith, at least in some iteration of it.

These Muslims are not merely offended by certain forms of expression. That, I think, is where many Leftists make their fundamental mistake. They not only have their religious taboos, they have a vicious hatred of anyone who breaks them. They do not feel insult, they feel rage and zeal. Their faith, such as it may be, requires of them not forgiveness or even correction, but retribution.

This brings me to my conclusion. Freedom of speech can and often does result in offense. What happened on January 7th was not a result of mere offense. Therefore, the attack was not really on freedom of speech. It was on people. People who, through their printing of ridiculous cartoons, represented the other, the infidel, which cannot be tolerated. Those editors, artists, and writers became more than some Frenchmen with annoying gall; they became demonic in the eyes of their assailants, deserving no less than righteous fury and judgment.

The attack in Paris serves as a launching point for discussion of free speech and its consequences, but only secondarily. It was not expression that caused this fatal incident. It was something else entirely. I maintain that freedom of speech, however one defines it, is risky, scary, chaotic, perhaps even dangerous. But it is not deadly. To conclude that, I think, would be a huge mistake.

Could Everyone Just Be Quiet?

I'm already sick of the primaries.

You're probably thinking that's strange, it being the case that they haven't begun yet. To which I say, exactly.

A few days back, Senators Ted Cruz and Mike Lee, the dynamic duo of Congressional Stirring Up of Things, made a point of order after the "CRomnibus" bill vote for... some political gambit that I still haven't quite grasped. It wasn't long until Cruz, a potential 2016 Republican presidential candidate, was viciously attacked by conservative bloggers for supposedly giving Harry Reid a window to push through Democrat nominations that he would otherwise have had to forego (a notion which, as far as I understand it, is completely ridiculous). This prompted a Twitter war among conservative writers about "hero worship," "GOP establishment," and "RINOs."

Today, in response to Senator Marco Rubio's impassioned rebuke of Obama's Cuba policy, Senator Rand Paul made very mature and nuanced arguments in tweet form against Rubio's position. Rubio and Paul are, coincidentally, expected to be in the 2016 Republican presidential primary race.

Don't even get me started on Jeb Bush.

When I look at the lower-right corner of my screen, I notice something interesting. The current year is 2014. The primaries don't start until 2016, just over a year from now. Thus, the primaries, while not terribly far off, are not exactly imminent.

Why, then, is everyone screaming their heads off at each other?

I understand that elections don't exist in a vacuum; they take enormous amounts of preparation, which is why potential candidates are currently announcing their announcements about their intent to announce whether they will announce if they're campaigning or not. But for goodness's sake, do we have to be bursting blood vessels this early?

Writing scathing thought-pieces and insulting tweets is one of the more unproductive things I can think of at this juncture. Analysis of potential candidates and debate over important issues are all well and good, but the vast majority of what I see is just vitriol and chest-thumping. Is anyone really going to decide his vote based on what a Senator tweets today, or a conservative news site writes tomorrow? I certainly hope not. It would make the actual campaigns (you know, the ones that haven't started yet) rather extraneous.

I wrote on a similar topic last year, shaking my head then as I do now about the useless nature of this kind of political malarkey. I want to hear what Rubio, Cruz, Paul, Bush, Christie, Walker, and whoever else have to say about principles, issues, and policies, so I can make an informed vote based on how their statements line up with my own beliefs. I want to hear reasonable analysis from pundits I respect on the validity of those statements so that I might better judge them as part of my decision-making process. I don't want to hear more vapid insults. They turn me off immediately and make me disgusted with the entire process. They are not effective (except at increasing blood pressure all around), and they are not convincing.

I look forward to the campaign speeches, advertisements, and debates. The next election will be very important. Until then, I'd appreciate it if we could all just shut up for a while.

The Tragic, Dangerous Fall of Journalism

Under the Merriam-Webster.com entry for "journalism," definition 2-b reads: "writing characterized by a direct presentation of facts or description of events without an attempt at interpretation." This definition has been skewed in recent years, as activism and intent have found their way into mainstream journalistic endeavors. Still, so-called "advocacy journalism" is still supposed to present facts, things that are objectively true and verifiable, in order to achieve its end effectively.

This no longer appears to be the case.

Rolling Stone magazine published a piece by Sabrina Rubin Erdely about a brutal gang-rape incident on U-Va's campus. It was a startling and disturbing insight into depravity at an academic institution, the ensuing cover-up, and the horrible personal aftermath.

It was not true.

As the Washington Post and many other outlets have explained in great detail, the story is full of holes and represents a tremendous failure of fact verification and investigation by the reporter. Many of the problems would have been forestalled by reaching out to the accused culprits, the fraternity they supposedly belonged to, and many other involved parties. Erdely, apparently, did not make this effort. (Update: it's even worse than it first appeared)

This could have been an isolated instance of an overzealous reporter getting too wrapped up in her own story and overlooking her responsibility to present the truth. Alas, that would be too optimistic an interpretation.

The campus rape piece and its embarrassing collapse represent a distressing trend in contemporary journalism. Increasingly, reporting has been replaced with activism and facts have been replaced with narrative. The question many journalists now try to answer is not "what is true?" but rather "what is the story I want to tell?"

Don't just take my word for it. Read this quote and its source: "Ultimately, though, from where I sit in Charlottesville, to let fact checking define the narrative would be a huge mistake." Rolling Stone editor Will Dana has said that journalists should not "worship the grail of objectivity" and that "we'll write what we believe." And Zerlina Maxwell, in an opinion piece for the Washington Post, said: "Many people (not least U-Va. administrators) will be tempted to see this as a reminder that officials, reporters and the general public should hear both sides of the story and collect all the evidence before coming to a conclusion in rape cases... In important ways, this is wrong. We should believe, as a matter of default, what an accuser says." In that last link, notice the URL versus the headline; "generally" is a stealth-edit from the original "automatically."

The pervading mentality displayed here is that narrative trumps all. If it sounds like it confirms what you believe (or want to believe), then believe it, print it, spread it, take action on it. Don't stop to check what may actually be true, because that would damage the bigger picture, hurt the cause, and, Maxwell claims, harm victims of abuse and oppression.

This way of thinking is not limited to political or social journalism. The #GamerGate controversy, which started over allegations of corruption in gaming journalism, has ballooned into a widespread consumer revolt against "Social Justice Warrior" narratives in video game reviews and coverage (if you're unfamiliar with the issue, this is a good primer, though keep in mind it was written by supporters of the cause). Proponents of #GamerGate claim gaming journalism is tainted with political and social agendas, particularly radical feminism, and its critics have responded with accusations of misogyny.

In much the same way, those who have called for more thorough investigation of the U-Va rape story were accused of "rape-denialism" by radical feminist journalists such as Amanda Marcotte. Calling for adherence to honesty and objectivity is, according to such critics, akin to holocaust denial (I'd link directly to Marcotte's tweets on the subject, but she has blocked me on Twitter).

I could go on and on and on about instances of media bias and activist journalism. Examples abound. What the Rolling Stone debacle and everything else teach us is that when changing reality becomes the ultimate goal in a field that is supposed to depict it, truth is the inevitable casualty. This should frighten anyone concerned with knowing what is real. Jonathan Swift wrote in 1710: "besides, as the vilest writer hath his readers, so the greatest liar hath his believers: and it often happens, that if a lie be believed only for an hour, it hath done its work, and there is no farther occasion for it. Falsehood flies, and truth comes limping after it, so that when men come to be undeceived, it is too late; the jest is over, and the tale hath had its effect..." (from The Examiner No. XIV).

The effects of such falsehoods in journalism are twofold. First, the lie perpetuates belief in the agenda the false story supports, animating proponents of the author's own philosophy through emotional manipulation. It affirms such readers' conclusions on how the world works without prompting them to test and verify their views. People rely on journalism for knowledge, and when it is presented in these poorly founded, subjective ways, it hurts their ability to be rational beings.

Second, promoting falsities actually hurts the causes these activist journalists seek to promote. In the case of the rape story, it creates doubt of rape accusations in people burned by the faulty reporting. When the most heralded evidence of "rape culture" and supposed patriarchal oppression is false, it leads to the conclusion that there is no such thing. It's the classic case of the Boy Who Cried Wolf, only now it's the Journalist Who Cried Injustice. It trivializes real rape victims and makes an important, uncomfortable issue into a political chest-thumping exercise.

This is the cost of an ideology in which ends justify means and perceptions trump facts. Progressive thought is built on the notion of perpetually reconstructing reality, holding nothing permanent or certain, and holding no regard for anything that might stand in the way. When this way of thinking takes over something as important as journalism, disaster ensues.

Hopefully, the fallout from this mess will push reporters, writers, and editors to spend more time investigating the truth and less time constructing a narrative in the most emotionally appealing way. Hopefully, journalism will return to a presentation of facts, and stop being an avenue for personal agendas and vendetta. Hopefully, this once-proud, once-respectable field can be saved.

Given the prevalence of this problematic mentality, though? It might be too late.

The Neverending Winter of Special Snowflakes

I'm sure by now everyone's seen or heard something about the rocket scientist offensive shirt outrage explosion. I won't even bother linking to a story; I'd feel like I'm just participating in the link-bait frenzy our media perpetually creates. My basic summary: guy who landed probe on comet wore shirt portraying scantily clad women, feminists screamed like banshees, guy tearfully apologized. And so, here we are in the aftermath.

The resulting Right vs Left issue is the same as usual. Left says the incident is indicative of a cultural prejudice against women in the workplace, Right says no, it's just a shirt, stop being so sensitive. There's much that could be said about modern feminism, but I'm leaving that specific topic alone for now. I want to address something slightly larger that I think pervades our culture as a whole.

We need to stop thinking we're so dang important.

That probably sounds weird coming from a conservative, but I'm not talking about individual rights and associated philosophical concepts. I'm talking about our strange proclivity toward making everything we, individually, don't like into National Issues that Need Addressing.

This isn't just a liberal thing, though I would contend that many liberal cultural strains thrive on outrage and overreaction. Conservatives can do the same thing with some issues, particularly in popular media. If, say, a TV show has content that some conservatives (particularly Christian conservatives) object to, these people can fall prey to the same "this shouldn't be on the air at all!" mentality they decry in liberals, rather than just watching something else. It's either a cultural thing or an innate human thing (I suspect a mixture of both).

On both sides of the aisle, people who say they just want to be left alone and allowed to do what they want often don't offer the same courtesy to others. I think a good example of this is the notion of boycotts. I find organized boycotts to be fundamentally strange. If I, an individual person, don't like a business's practices enough that I wish to avoid any of my money supporting them, I will stop purchasing the business's products. I might even inform other people of the questionable practices so that they might better suit their own consciences. Yet, for many, this is not enough. They are not satisfied until a large number of other people take the exact same action they do. Everyone has to stop giving money to this business, not just me.

It's this kind of conspicuous group affirmation that perplexes and concerns me. I'm not sure if it comes from insecurity, arrogance, or some other flawed motive, but so many Americans, the minute they dislike something, start handing out the torches and pitchforks. We can't just be upset, we need lots and lots of other people to be just as upset, if not more.

I'm not saying we shouldn't try to change aspects of culture we think are harmful. I am saying that before we start screaming, we should step back, take a deep breath, and think, "is this really that important in the bigger picture?" Too often, I think we confuse things we're mad about with things that matter. We think our subjective reaction to something is the objective truth about it and shout down anyone who doesn't see what we see. In doing so, we ruin any chance of actually changing things for the better in lieu of endless, breathless screaming matches.

Going back to the #shirtgate incident, I would ask those angry feminists (who will probably never read this): is that shirt really that important? Even assuming that feminist premises are true (scientific workplaces are unfriendly to women, working environments are patriarchal in general, etc.), does one guy's dumb shirt really warrant a reaction so furious that it brought a man to tears?

I suspect the answer, if they were honest with themselves, would be no. When we're angry and offended, however, we don't stop to think about the reasonableness of our response. Let's start exercising more restraint and control over our anger. Let's pause and weigh the importance of issues before letting slip the dogs of outrage. And let's stop inflating our egos to the size of an entire country.

Christian, Conservative, Capitalist... Correct?

Something I've been wrestling with lately is the relationship between religion and politics. Particularly, my own background is both Christian and conservative, and there are certainly many people in the same category. Many of the same people espousing principles of liberty also publicly declare their faith in God.

Are the two notions, conservatism and Christianity, truly connected? Is there an inherent bias toward certain political dogmas among traditional Christians? Even more specifically, is the economic system of free-market capitalism truly the most moral of secular options the religious man might support?

I see two major points of contention within this question: the principles of each concept and the desired results of those principles put into action. First, the ideas behind capitalism and Christianity lead to some intellectual difficulties, as I understand them. Capitalism (in the general free-market vein of understanding) hinges on and champions the individual's ability and right to choose what goods he desires and what he will give up to acquire them. Rational actors are the driving force behind the economic theory, and the best society, it is argued, is the one that lets them, generally, make up their own minds.

Here's where the problem starts. Christian orthodoxy states that mankind is fallen and prone to sin and selfishness. While men are redeemed in this world through Christ, sin does not fully disappear until all things are remade, and thus, even a group of people made entirely of Christians would suffer from sinful acts. Sin often incorporates selfishness and passion, overcoming man's rational capabilities. As Paul writes in Romans 7:15, "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do." It is possible for even the Christian man to succumb to desires that, morally and rationally, do not serve his or his fellow man's best interest.

Knowing, then, the depravity (total or otherwise) of man, should the Christian support a system that most freely allows humans to act on whatever desires they might have? Of course, economics do not dictate what all laws and social structures should look like, so there would still be some form of limitation on what men can do (murder would probably still be illegal/punishable in even the most libertarian utopia). Yet, it seems concerning to say that man is evil and in need of redemption and that he should be afforded as much liberty as possible in the same breath.

Second, the goals of capitalism and Christianity are potentially at odds. Capitalism's end is, through the workings of the market, innovation, and competition, the increase of wealth for all individuals (inasmuch as each individual is able to reap benefits from their work, products, etc.); everyone desires and should be able to acquire "capital." Christianity, on the other hand, exhorts its faithful to become more Christ-like; as with capitalism, it's right there in the name. This involves the casting aside of worldly desires and following God's will above all else.

You can see where I'm going with this. If the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil (1 Timothy 6:10), why would the Christian want everyone to have more money? At the very least, it would seem to invite temptation toward greed and jealousy. So, then, how can these worldviews be reconciled?

The best I can come up with so far in answering these questions: nothing's perfect. More than that, we shouldn't expect anything besides God to be. Regarding the first question, my belief has long been that there is no infallible system of government or economics or anything involving human beings. Men will always do awful, illogical things, no matter how much freedom or constriction they are under. That said, it could be argued that a philosophy of liberty minimizes harm. When various forces (individuals, government and its branches, and so on) are pitted against each other in as even a playing field as possible, they may hold each other in check. Theoretically, if government cannot wield tyrannical power over people without significant risk of losing its power altogether, then that tyranny is limited. If people cannot harm each other without significant risk of being harmed right back, then that harm is limited. But the word remains "limited," not "eliminated." All attempts by mankind to eliminate mankind's problems fail and often create even worse scenarios. Support free markets through right reason, but never expect them to be a panacea for society's ills.

As for the second question, I think we have to be careful how we define "wealth." In capitalism, the goal is not merely the increase of available currency that individuals possess, but the general upgrade of their standard of living through the encouragement of innovation. Christians are called to be charitable, and this includes easing people's physical burdens as well as spiritual. So, a system purporting to make physical life easier for everyone would seem right in line with Christian principles. However, the Christian must be very, very careful not to let that notion be an excuse for sinfulness. The Christian might justify his greed by saying, to himself or others, that he prioritizes money so that he can make life more comfortable for his family and have a larger amount of potential charitable donations. Again, depravity abounds, and we humans can effortlessly perform the mental gymnastics to rationalize almost anything. After all, it was the poor woman with two coins that Jesus praised, not the rich men who wanted everyone to know how much they were giving (Luke 21:1-4). Just having wealth to give or even actually giving that wealth is not necessarily true charity.

Going back to the temptation idea, I think any situation is rife with potential for sin. Greed and jealousy afflict the poor and rich alike. Even if everyone were poor or everyone were rich, evil would find a way in. The Christian's duty is not to encourage people to seek more or less wealth, but to challenge everyone to be thankful and charitable no matter their situation. In this way, I think the Christian can be a capitalist, assuming, as with anything, the right motivations are behind it.

Of course, all the mental exercise in the world won't resolve eternal dilemmas. Not I nor anyone else can uncover the perfect combination of political beliefs and spiritual attitudes. The only thing I would ask any reader is this: be wary of getting so wrapped up in an idea that you forget your own frailty. You don't have to be a Christian to realize people are influenced by both reason and passion, and both can be used for good or ill. Assuming only the good will come out in specific circumstances is very dangerous. Let's do our best, but never stray too far from the fact that we are only human.

A Few Thoughts on Foreign Policy in the Wake of ISIS

Another day, another beheading, this time of a British citizen, Alan Henning. ISIS has threatened to kill an former US Army Ranger, Peter Kassig, next.

Obviously, this kind of brutality prompts an emotional and visceral response from everyone who hears about it. ISIS is a group of fanatical, violent, and above all evil men who have no moral restraint of their horrific acts. There is nothing to salvage, to negotiate with, or to understand. They have abandoned any pretense of human decency in favor of unfettered depravity. This is unquestionably true.

What, then, shall the United States and the civilized West do? What is our responsibility as a nation in the face of such unabashed evil? What kind and degree of threat does ISIS pose to our country, our culture, and humanity at large?

Well, I'm not going to presume to be able to answer those. I have thought about them quite a bit, though, and I hope that, if I haven't arrived at answers, I've at least determined some of the proper questions.

The most pressing issue is the prospect of military response. We've already committed to airstrikes and certain detachments of personnel ("boots on the ground" rhetorical maneuvering aside), which we have yet to classify as a war (as evidenced by the administration's avoidance of the term and the lack of congressional approval thus far). There's an important issue of executive authority at stake, one that I'll refrain from addressing for now. My current question: should we, the United States, declare and wage war on ISIS?

That "should" makes this question tricky. The emotional response I've seen (and felt) is that, yes, we should obliterate these monsters from the face of the earth. Why wait and allow them to kill more people? It seems simple: they're evil, we need to be good, and if we do nothing, evil will prevail.

If it only it were so easily determined. Our nation was built largely on a foundation of natural law theory, which (to unsatisfactorily summarize) dictates that a nation is responsible for protecting its (its citizens') life, liberty, and property. If another party attacks or imminently threatens these, the nation, like the individual, is allowed (and, indeed, obligated under the social contract) to use force in response. Again, seems simple: we defend ourselves, and that's the only tolerable use of force on another nation or party.

Yet, when theory goes into practice, such lines blur. What constitutes a real and actionable "threat" to our country? Must we wait until we have actually been attacked and our lives lost before we can use force? Is the potential of attack (such as the buildup of military force in range of our citizens) enough to justify war? Is stated or discovered (by espionage, perhaps) intent to attack us enough? Some combination of the two?

In the present matter of ISIS, we do have some facts: they have stated their intent to kill us ("We will raise the flag of Allah in the White House"), and they have killed our citizens (in public beheadings). From this, one could make a case for use of military force. There is one more factor, though: ISIS's ability to actually carry out their threats. Though they call themselves an Islamic State, they do not have the normal characteristics of a nation-state that we might declare war upon. They hold cities as tactical locations more than as home territory, they do not have demarcated borders, they do not have a traditional military. As such, they do not have similar capabilities of war to, say, Russia or China. Their equipment and arms are stolen, not produced. They use what's available rather than what a factory can churn out. Their scope and power, then, has estimable limits.

Then again, such unconventional violent actors are hard to predict, as 9/11 showed us. What is the risk of another suicide attack? Could ISIS fighters infiltrate or seize airplanes and attack us? Could they acquire biological weapons, cyber-warfare capabilities, or other means with which to harm us? Even in such cases, are they really capable of amassing enough power to actually conquer our capital and fly their flag above it?

Considering I don't work for the CIA, I can't really answer those questions. Nor can any average citizen with any reasonable certainty. With such issues, I don't believe there is any completely correct answer or any perfect response we can find. We can argue about principles of non-intervention and self-defense, but when push comes to shove, do any of us really, truly, with complete confidence, know what to do?

No. Of course not. Anyone that says otherwise is lying.

What I will say on the matter is that, whatever our approach ends up being, I want it to be based solely on the protection of out citizens' lives. All decisions must flow from that principle. That could include many things: helping allies that are in a position to protect us, taking preemptive action on individual ISIS threats, or even avoiding military action for the sake of keeping soldiers out of danger. Whatever we do, it needs to be with the aim of minimizing our loss of life.

Ultimately, that's what our government is for. We've voted for representatives and executives and told them: "Protect us. Protect our lives, liberty, and property. That's your job."

I just hope they do it well.

The Scourge of Scientism: Why I Can't Stand NDT

Before going any further, read this.

Done? Ok. This should let you know where I'm coming from for this piece, which is being written on a high of caffeine and angst.

What makes me so mad about what that Federalist piece reveals is not merely the fact that Neil deGrasse Tyson, beloved host of Cosmos and demigod of the "nerd" community, fudged quotes to support his talks. It's his entire attitude and apparent compulsive need to belittle everyone who is not as "objective" or "sciencey" as he is supposed to be.

Just look at this tweet of his. If the sheer smug of that statement doesn't make you want to ralph, you might be someone who "****ing Loves Science" on Facebook. But let's take that tweet at face value. He doesn't want people who aren't grounded in objective reality to be in positions of power. Ok, so what does that mean? Who are these people who don't include such things in their worldview that are so dangerous?

Well, here's a clue. Surprised? Me neither. Closely tied to his agenda of making science the standard of political authority is the denigration of Christianity. Look no further than this clip from Bill Maher's show in which Maher takes a quote from a Creationist, Ken Ham, paraphrases it to make sound like a crazy Christian redneck rambling, and lets Tyson knock the softball out of the park with a remark, an eye-roll, and a head shake.

(As a side note, Tyson also seems to have a strange fixation with aliens and their superiority to humans).

What do we learn from this? We learn that Tyson is not trying to have an intelligent debate about epistemology or formulate a coherent empirical philosophy. He's acting as a prophet, a carnival barker, a mouthpiece to rouse the rabble of religion-haters.

The point of this isn't to make Tyson look like a jerk, though. That's too easy. He wouldn't be so popular and respected without a reason. There's a disturbingly vast contingent of people in this country that rely on this kind of brainless affirmation of their biases. They sneer at Christians, so when a guy on TV does it, they celebrate. They think looking at pictures of space and making puns about molecules makes them cool and smart, so when a guy with a meme face does it, they salivate.

This mentality has little if anything to do with actual science. As many other smarter, angrier people have explained, almost no one retweeting NDT or liking posts by IFLS actually enjoys conducting experiments, gathering data, and testing hypotheses. What they're interested in is having an Authority on their side. They appropriate Science as their trump card. "Oh, you're skeptical about climate change? You must hate Science." "Oh, you believe in God? Well, Science doesn't, idiot." And the real irony is when these people try to use Science to trump, you know, actual science, like in the climate change and abortion debates.

In essence, the crowd hanging on Tyson's every word is no different than, say, the Joel Osteen fan club megachurch, or the Westboro Baptist Church, or the Manson Family. They're all groups of people that have clung to a figure telling them things they want to hear, smoothing over their doubts, and affirming their broken philosophy. It's a way of shutting out skepticism and doubt. It's a way of avoiding the tough questions of life by blindly accepting a man's words as Revealed Truth. It's a way of trying to fill a void, of finding diversion from the inquietude of the soul, as Pascal puts it.

Science is their God, and Neil deGrasse Tyson, for the moment, is its avatar.