How many of you enjoy drilling?
Well, [statistics say most of you are liars, because | perhaps it will not be surprising that] the average power drill is only used for between 12 and 15 minutes … in it's entire lifetime.
( Okay, so maybe you are not liars … however, ) instead of being a testament to the efficiency of modern drills, this at least tells us that what we value are the holes, not the drills that make them.
If you manufacture power drills, should this worry you? Knowing our consumer economy, it may not, as … for most of its history, it has put the most emphasis on the products, rather than the useful things they do or create.
We may value the holes, but our economy has made us more inclined to spend money on the drills. Our currency, rather than being merely a tool for exchanging value, has been commandeered for its use in increasing or reducing the power of individuals and the companies they trade with.
We can appreciate power in the hands of people we value, or when it promotes values that we support. The danger arises when it falls in to the “wrong” hands: when groups become able to push an agenda that clashes with our interests.
The power drill industry – as with most others – is not a target of popular criticism. The medical field is interesting because it is sustained by our own drive to survive – we have an incentive to maintain and improve our medical institutions because doing so directly improves our chances of surviving the ailments that befall us. Similarly, various academic fields are supported by the businesses that exploit their findings and developments. It is not only that medicine is our life-support system; we are medicine's life support, and – especially in a knowledge economy – academia and industry are each-other's patrons.
What these groups share is that they each depend on the fruits of the other's labour.
So, what happens with groups that instead need to fend for themselves? That are more solely responsible for their own survival? Two very powerful institutions have this in common: governments, and religions.
It has been said that with great power comes great responsibility. Is this right? Why is it not stated the other way around? What if instead, in this arena of institutions that take on the burden of looking after themselves, only those that develop great power survive. Is this really a chicken and egg issue? Great power requires great effort to cultivate and maintain, because of the responsibility taken on.
If these groups do not develop great power, they just do not survive under the burden of responsibility they carry.
The flipside of this is that when you take on such a heavy load, shouldn't any cracks that exist very quickly become obvious?
Cracks are not necessarily a bad thing. To err is human, after all; we can expect to make mistakes. Weakness is important, because it signals to us a potential for improvement, but improvement can be painful, which often makes these weaknesses easier to just ignore, or even hide.
Governments can do both. The Chinese government is infamous for their censorship: many of you may have heard of the “Great Firewall of China” – their blockade against any websites the state censor deems inappropriate. Blocking access to the truth is not the only means they use to keep their populace happy, they also engage in extremely clever deception campaigns to quell dissent.
Censorship requires effort, and the fact that people are willing to put economic resources towards obscuring information is a very suggestive sign that they believe the information they block would trigger reform were it in the minds of the people. As the symptoms of an illness may lead us to a diagnosis and treatment, the mere presence of censorship can reveal cracks and invite us to fill them.
That there is less censorship in the West does not necessarily mean our governments are healthier. Instead it can mean that they are less concerned by bad press. The Chinese government, because they still care what their people think, try to control what they think. In the West, relationships are more fiscalised. The anger of the populace can not erase the signatures on a contract, or destroy the contents of bank accounts.
Governments provide a lens on the worldly concerns of society. Religions have tried to provide another view of these worldly issues we confront by the perspective of the other-worldly. A small but important tenet is the idea of transcendence. This word itself only refers to 'something beyond.' It is that which we as humans can not know.
To value transcendence is to admit uncertainty. At the same time it is an act of wonder, for we need to appreciate what we can know to value what we do not. Valuing transcendence is disarming, it appears to weaken us, but failing to admit we do not and perhaps can not know, makes it impossible for us to ever learn. Valuing transcendence is a recipe for our growth as individuals, a recipe I like to call 'spirituality.'
Spirituality knows no difference between Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, or Buddhism, and so being spiritual – valuing uncertainty – is no reason to support one or any other. Religions derive their power from the support of their members, so it is plausible that they could emphasise other ideas to encourage this support.
History narrates many religious conflicts that have encouraged the faith of the victors at the expense of that of the losers. Surely, many of these battles have been fought because of a group's conviction that they are superior to the other. What is it about their religions that fosters these feelings?
Spirituality can not be the culprit, because to value that which we can not know is a value that we can only share. It is a value that can only connect us, not divide us.
Values that do divide us are those with a natural hierarchy at their core, and religions draw their line in the sand when they profess 'truth,' by which they – even if they do not intend it – imply that others deceive.
They sow these seeds of division when they present spirituality as an explanation, usually in the form of a god or gods. Their gods – their 'truths' – are something we can invest in. But by valuing uncertainties, and at the very same time advertising these as truths, they are really sowing seeds of hypocrisy.
If currency has been commandeered to be a medium of communicating power rather than values between people and organisations, belief could similarly be said to have been perverted to convey people's loyalty towards their religions. When a church leader asks whether you believe, they are not questioning your values, but your loyalty.
There are some inspiring examples of businesses providing services tailored to their customer's values by breaking down the artificial barriers that used to exist between those customers. Consider the car-sharing companies launched in recent years in the UK and the US, which are founded on the simple idea that many car owners only need access to their vehicle some of the time, and when they don't, someone else may as well use it. For many people who just want to get from A to B, owning one to two tonnes of metal, plastics, and rubber is just a hassle.
With great responsibility comes great power, but these companies are putting power in the hands of their customers, and when everyone is empowered, doesn't power itself become less important? Not at the whim of some powerful players in their economy, instead that economy caters to their needs.
Beliefs do not ask you to conform, they are an individual expression. They grow with you, and you with them. Rather than burdening themselves with the responsibilities of independence, and being held up by their member's loyalty, perhaps religions should thrive upon the fellowship they encourage. A fellowship they find in the natural human hunger for stories.
Belief is not a virtue, having it or not is neither good nor bad, but beliefs are something we can share, and what more is storytelling? What more, indeed, is religion?
Delivered on Tuesday, 6th September.
