Reflections on Wendy Doniger, The Hindus: An alternative history, The Penguin Press, 2009

Introduction

Wendy Doniger is a scholar of repute among academic Indologists, known especially for her many translations and interpretations of various classical Sanskrit texts. She is also a person of ill-repute among a large section of modern literate Hindus in whose estimate her Freudian interpretations of traditional (Hindu) symbols are obsessive, offensive, and plain wrong. And she may be fairly unknown to millions of others with only a peripheral interest in matters Hindu or Indian.

One thing the outside world knows well about Hinduism is that it is steeped in the infamous caste system in which the upper caste Brahmins (used to) hold sway. The widespread impression one gathers from notifications on the caste hierarchy is that the Brahmins possessed all the knowledge while they oppressed and exploited the lower castes. Then again, as in most other traditional societies, women held only a second place in the Hindu world. Though there may be more than a few grains of truth in such assessments, what is far less known is that vast numbers of women and members of the so-called lower castes have also made significant contributions to Hindu culture and civilization. Their voices have been heard, their perspectives have been preserved, and their writings are read and recited in the fascinatingly complex that is Hinduism.

The author of this book has done a marvelous job of setting the record straight on this matter. She does this with the erudition that is expected of her, with an understanding that only an insightful scholar can muster, and an empathy that might come as a surprise to some of her harsh critics from the Hindu world. She presents her alternative history, not by recounting who did what, when and where; her chronological narrative is constructed with profuse quotes from important and sometimes little known texts, to which she has added her own commentaries.

The book is strewn with wit, wisdom and word-play, as also nuggets of insights on Hindu visions. Doniger reminds us of the Hindu capacity to entertain contradictory views, which also enables one to see both sides of an argument (p. 11). Perhaps this springs from the recognition that this finite world of ours is replete with dualities which are sometimes contradictory, sometimes complementary. She presents this as an explanation, if not as an excuse, for studying the culture as an outsider while fully recognizing the right and relevance of those who study it as insiders. Ironically, this enlightened vision comes from an outsider today while there are voices from within that decry the outsider whose views are said to be skewed by colored and callous lenses through which they peer. While I can well understand why and how a great many Hindus may be outraged and infuriated by Doniger’s frequent Freudian interpretations, upon reading this book, I am inclined to trust her when she says: “… I intend to go on celebrating the diversity and pluralism, not to mention the worldly wisdom and sensuality, of the Hindus that I have loved for about fifty years now and still counting (p. 16).” By the way, surprise of surprise, there is not one hint of a Freudian perspective in the whole book.

Doniger makes some keen observations on the Indian mind: “In Indian history, individuals have turned the tide against tolerance or violence even against the current of the zeitgeist (p. 21).” She has a clear grasp of myths and symbols, and gives as intelligent a commentary on the linga as one can find anywhere (p. 22). She discusses at length the diversity that characterizes the Hindu world (p. 24) , and she has revised the ithyphallic interpretation of the Indus Valley seal (p. 34). She brings out the role and relevance of women in the evolution of the Hindu world, as seen in texts and references, as also of the variety of non-caste Hindus who have borne a range of (not very complementary) epithets. Unlike most writers on India by Western scholars, Doniger devotes an entire chapter to the Tamil (South Indian) tradition. Here, if one may point to a sin of omission, the names of Auvaiyar and the epic of Kannaki (Silappatikaaram) are glaringly absent. She also makes us aware of the central role that animals have always played in Hindu culture, and points out that the trinity of power, purity, and pollution are symbolized in Hindu lore and literature through the horse, the cow, and the dog (p.40).

The beginning

The history begins from the geological Gondwanaland which rests on the continental drift model and the mythical Lemuria to which some Tamil enthusiasts still trace their distant and all but forgotten ancestry (p. 51 et seq.). Few modern texts on Indian history – mainstream or otherwise – even mention these. There are then discussions of the first of the avataras (the Mastya) (p. 58), and the four major eons (yugas) of Hindu mythic chronology (p. 57). But right here Doniger makes the well-known observation about the Hindu world: the “rich hybrid or multiple mix is precisely what makes Hinduism the cultural masterpiece that it is (p. 64).”

The world knows about the cave paintings in Altamira and Lascaux, but not many may have heard about Bhimbetka cave paintings that date back to 30,000 years and more. So the history appropriately begins with a brief report on these. Then follows a coup d’oeil of the Indus Valley Civilization which is the ur-civilization of India, never mind its current national location in Pakistan. Speaking of the controversial interpretations of the seals, Doniger suggests the possibility that” the people of the IVC had no religion at all, in trhe sense of a state cult or an enforced dogma., Is it possible that this was the first secular state, anticipating the European Enlightenment by four thousand years (?) (p. 80).” This seems certainly more probable than the claim that Vedantic philosophers knew all about quantum mechanics.

On origins

A whole chapter (5) is devoted to a discussion of various theories as to the origins of Vedic civilization, and Doniger is careful not to openly take any side. She does point to the problems that the various conjectures face. In the course of these discussions she has no problem conceding (like modern Westerners) what many Indian nationalists sometimes tauntingly reiterate, namely that “the people of the Indus were building great cities and the people of the Vedas creating great literature at a time when the British were still swinging in trees (p. 93).” She does present the absence of any horse evidence to suggest that at the very least the Vedic civilization was not a direct continuation of the IVC. Nevertheless, she notes the worldviews and visions of the people of IVC being deeply embedded in Hindu culture. As she puts is, “The non-Veda is the fons et origo of Hinduisam; new ideas, new narratives, new practices arose in the non-Sanskrit world, found their way into the Sanskrt world, and, often, left it again, to have a second or third or fourth life among the great vernacular traditions of India (p. 100-01).”

In a chapter dealing with aspects of the Rig Veda (5) attention is drawn explicitly to the violence implicit in the sacrificial rites, and the tension between the upper and lower layers o society. We are told that the marginalization is characteristic of people of “all classes who fall pray to addiction and/or intoxication … (p. 104).” But she also points out that the Vedic mindset is pluralistic, and open-minded. She sees the very pluralism (in the context of social classes) as being at the root of the caste system that has become an intrinsic, and almost inerasable aspect of Hindu society. Her reflections on the Rig Veda is not for the orthodox, certainly not for those who regard the hymns as revealed truths that have vibrated since the first tick of time, heard by only by the privileged few rishis. But if the reader approaches them as the inspired poetry of eminent sage poets of a pastoral and prevailing people, her analytical commentaries may sound both interesting and insightful.

The following chapter (6) discusses sacrifices: their origins and impacts, and here we are told how post-mortem theories were slowly refined since Vedic mythopoesie. She reminds us that “sacrifice is about death and sex. Rituals tend to tame those dangers (associated with sex and death) … and to make them public, to make them safe for the sacrificer (p. 160).” Here too the role of women and dogs is mentioned. We are reminded that meat (beef) eating by ancient Hindus was not uncommon, as also of the possibility of human sacrifice in those distant times. In this chapter we get to know about one Hindu theory of theodicy: “Evil on earth in general results from fallout from heaven, and the cosmic struggles of gods and antigods (p. 162).”

Renunciation and spirituality

In a chapter on renunciation in the Upanishads (7) various meanings of karma are explained (p. 168 et seq.), as also a possible reason for the reincarnation concept, perhaps to account for the fact that the heavens are not overcrowded with the souls of the dead (p. 170). We are told that “Hinduism was violent not only in its sensuality but in its reaction against that sensuality – violent, that is, both in its addictions and in the measures that it took to curb those addictions… p. 194).” Here she also reiterates the central thesis in most of her other writings: “… sensuality continued to keep its foot in the door of the house of religion; the erotic was a central path throughout the history of India (p. 195).” But more importantly, much perhaps to the disappointment of those Hindus who are convinced of their unique spirituality and to the satisfaction of Neo-Hindus who want to show the world that Hindus are as this-world–minded as any people, she informs us of recent evidence that seems to suggest that “Hinduism … on the ground was less concerned with soteriology and more with worldly values than textual scholars had previously assumed (p. 195).” This just shows how misleading interpretations from texts alone can be.

In an interesting listing of various triads in the Hindu worldview: gunas, doshasm, lokas, arthas, etc. we read how a fourth one was often added. Thus, as in the Tirukural (which, strangely, is not mentioned even once in the book), there used to be only dharma, artha, and kama. Moksha was added as a fourth principle only later. Doniger points out that likewise a fourth was added to the other triads also. With her usual wordplay she calls this squaring the circle: impossible mathematically, but achievable on the philosophical plane. The rules of dharma are nicely formulated, but we are reminded that “these rules were not meant to apply to women, whose only sva-dharma was to obey their husbands, and their only sacrament, marriage (p. 210).” She could have added in fairness that in this matter the classical Hindu world was not any different from any other cultural scene.

Women in the Ramayana and violence in the Mahabharata

The chapter on women and ogresses in the Ramayana (9) is somewhat disappointing. Aside from the fact that the epic itself is not summarised in the most respectful tone, there is no reference to Urmila or Mandodhari. Manthara (without whom there would have been no book beyond the Balakanda) is disposed of as the hunchback woman, and the noble Ahalya is simply called “the archetypal adulteress (p. 232).” I would have expected some deeper and more interesting analyses of these women.

As a prelude to a chapter devoted to violence in the Mahabharata there is a (not very hearty) summary of Ashoka’s conquests and edicts, and the rise of sectarian worship in the Hindu world. Then she goes to discuss the chronology of the MB with respect to the Ramayana, and the unified anthology of stories that the epic is. She wisely notes that “The contradictions at its heart are not the mistakes of a sloppy editor but the enduring cultural dilemmas that no author could ever have resolved (p. 264).” Then she draws a parallel between the “ambivalence towards nonviolence (ahimsa) expressed in the Ashokan edicts and in the Mahabharata (p. 265).” She also sees a core pessimism in the epic when she declares that “The Mahabharata sees a vice behind every virtue, a snake behind every horse, and a doomsday behind every victory (p. 276)”: as Doniger herself often sees a hidden sexual meaning behind every episode, one might add.

But in a following chapter (11) she reminds us that there is also dharma in the Mahabharata. That dharma is the central motif in the epic is well-known to any student of the epic. But often one also tends to focus on, and take literally, the story line of the epic. In this context Doniger draws a beautiful simile: “To say that the long sermons on dharma are a digression from the story … would be like saying that the arias in a Verdi opera are unwelcome interruptions of the libretto; dharma, like the arias, is the centerpiece, for which the narration (the recitative) is merely the frame (p. 177-78). She could have added in this otherwise apt analogy that the opera belongs uniquely to the aesthetic dimension of culture, Mahabharata has an ethical dimension too. Then again, through this parallel which will be hardly clear to a good many Hindu readers, we can see that this book is not addressed to a Hindu audience, but to a Western. The root of the frustrating enigma of the Hindu world is also stated here: “The Mahabharata both challenges and justifies the entire class structure (p. 286).” The chapter which includes among other topics a detailed discussion on Draupadi and polyandry, and concludes with some insightful reflections on the two major (Sanskrit) epics of the tradition (p. 302-03).

On shastras, bhakti and Puranas

Doniger succinctly describes the shastras as the body of writings that “spelled out the dominant paradigm with regard to women, animals, and castes (305).” She brings out the chaos and creativity of the so-called age of darkness, and talks about Manu and all the associated restrictions and penalties, and how women are regarded in the dharmashastra and in the Kamasutra. In this chapter (12) she refers to Manu as “the flag bearer for the Hindu oppression of women (p. 327),” and points out that through Vatsayana’s text we can hear women’s voices telling us that “women have no voices (328).” She lists modes by which sexually challenged males were described, and the conventional penalties for the same. One important aspect of the shastras, which has perhaps been a saving grace for the Hindu world – saved from the horrors of medieval punishments for misbehavior such as obtained in other cultures – was that “The shastras present, from time to time, diametrically opposed, even contradictory opinions on a particular subject, without coming down strongly in favor of ne or the other (p. 334).” Recognizing that not everyone really or literally followed the shasras, Doniger pays a tribute to those writings when she describes them “as theoretical treatises (that) constitute one of the greatest cosmopolitan scientific literatures of the ancient world (p. 337).”

In the chapter on bhakti in South India (13) we read a brief history of the Tamils, descriptions of temples, sculptures, and architecture, as also of the habitual slaughter and brutality of the Chola army. This simply reveals that when it comes to conquests and subjugation, the peoples of the world were/are basically the same. Doniger points out that in the bhakti movement, the feminine virtues of gentleness, sacrifice, and love replaced the masculine traits of intelligence and scholarship (p. 353). She rightly remembers Antal in this context who was to inspire many a later-day woman saint in the tradition; but of whom few Northern Indian Hindus have even heard. She writes Periya Puranam without an m (p. 357 et seq.) suggesting that her knowledge of Tamil, unlike Sanskrit, is only second-hand. Her narration of the legend of Kannappar (which she suddenly retells as if it is history) is somewhat glib, with statements like “Kanappar does not understand metaphor (p. 358).” Clearly, with all her deep scholarship, she either doesn’t seem to understand or inadvertently trivializes bhakti. On not infrequent occasions like this, Donigar unwittingly (or is it wittily?) tarnishes her otherwise interesting, profound, and insightful reflections. She reiterates the now discarded episode of the appalling Jain persecution at the hands of Hindus in the Tamil country, only to say in the end that “there is no evidence that any of this actually happened other than the story (p. 365)” she narrates. Then why tell this story?

In the chapter on the Puranas (14), she lists a few early Hindu mathematicians. She spends more lines on the Mahabharata version of Shakuntala which portrays King Dushyanta in ugly terms, and barely says a line about the greatness of Kalidasa as a poet. In this chapter again, there is a cold, not to say sarcastic, listing of the vahanas of the Puranic deities, which many practicing Hindus might find offensive, even if she might not have meant it to be; and Non-Hindus might find inscrutable, if not comical. However, in the end she does seem to get it when she says that the association of animals with the godheads “may be seen as a more particularized expression of the basic Hindu philosophy (belief?) that the ultimate principle of reality (brahman) is present within the soul of every living creature (atman) (p.p. 400).” She could have started the section with this intelligent observation.

Sects, sex, and philosophical schools

One gets a scholarly overview of the Tantric tradition from chapter 15 of the book: its history, its bases, its ramifications, and its interpretations. There is even a clever substitution for equivalence of the conventional Sanskrit five M’s of the Tantric framework with five English F-words (p. 424). But even with all the female-flattery in the texts (“Women are gods, women are life, women are jewels, etc.” as embodying “the secret of all the Tantras”), on final analysis, as Doniger curtly puts it, “for the most part the (Tantric) rituals were designed to benefit people who had lingas, not yonis (p. 433).”

In a chapter on different philosophical schools, provocatively entitled, Philosophical feurds (18), we have a succinct survey of some major philosophical systems wherein the role of Shankara is well brought out, and the impact of the South Indian Saiva-siddhanta on Kashmir Shaivism is carefully articulated.

On Moghul impacts

While most Hindus are rightly outraged by the plunders and pillages of the likes of Mahmud of Ghazni and Ibrahim Lodi, not many may know that, like the British centuries later, Muslims first entered India as innocuous traders (p. 448). And we are told that “despite the evidence of persecution of varying degrees in different places and times, Hinduism under Islam was alive and well and living in India (p. 459).” This, however, may be poor consolation to millions of Hindus whose life and culture have been led to face the most intense existential challenges as long-range consequences of Islamic imperialistic intrusions into the land of the Hindus: something she doesn’t think is necessary to point out, perhaps because she doesn’t want to dwell on the negative sides of these interactions which are marring the global scene today .

In her recounting of the history and variety of the Puranic avataras Doniger not only exposes their medieval imaginative origins, but also lays bare the many mix-ups in their listings and versions, in spite of which many (even modern) Hindus continue to attach historical authenticity to the tall tales that form their contents. He amentions the more recent claims that the avataras are deep insights into the Darwinian theory of evolution (p. 475). In another context she mentions a tongue-in-cheek reference to Geroge Bush as “the contemporary form of Kalki (p. 679).”

She recounts the barbarity of Babur, as also the gentleness and tolerance of Akbar, the fanatic and savage deeds of Aurangazeb – especially his demolotion of Hindu temples and building mosques in their place and his dismembering of Shambhaji- as also Jahangir’s conversion experiences regarding hunting and meat-eating. She remembers the well known conversion of large numbers of Hindus into Islam, but also records the much less widely known fact that many Muslims were also converted into Hinduism and Shah Jahan’s efforts to curb this (p. 546).

In a chapter on Hinduism under the Mughals we read about the increase in the number of visitors to places of pilgrimage encouraged by the kings (so as to collect more taxes), the emergence of Tulsi Das and his impact on popular (North-Indian) Hinduism, of the rise of Sri Chaitanya and his impact, and so on.

The Raj

The changing attitudes of the British towards India are dissected, with a mention of deep Orientalism. In passing there is a reference to its counterpart Occidentalism (the facile identification science, materialism, technology, colonialism, imperialism, exploitation of the Non-West with Western civilization) which sorely needs a thorough examination in the current world. It is not clear of any scholar from the West or the Non-West is ready to undertake such a study.

Doniger is not very friendly to the British, least of all in her reporting on the Black Hole of Calcutta, and compares the British argument that they had brought trains and drains to India to Hitler’s apologists who say he built the Autobahn in Germany (p. 583).

Doniger’s take on Suttee is surprisingly emic: Without condoning a practice that is obviously unacceptable from enlightened perspectives, she is able to understand the system in its context, traces its mythological roots, and refers to it as only one instance of the countless contexts and cultures in human history where women have been conceptually and practically victims at the hands of dominant males. She mentions Raja Ram Mohan Roy’s leadership to put an end to the practice through the British government, but does not say why a similar Hindu leader did not rise during the Mughal period when Akbar generously allowed Hindu women to practice She reminds us in this context that “women have been beaten to death by their husbands and even burned alive (sometimes as witches) even in countries where there is no suttee mythology of women and fire (p.614).” Her unbiased analysis of the modernist reactions to suttee reveals the complexity of the problem, and should not be interpreted as an apology for a custom nowhere sanctioned in any Hindu text, much less as an excuse for preserving an unconscionable misogynic practice.

Hindus in America and new visions

There is a brief chapter (23) on Hindus in America which offers us many tidbits on cult-gurus who have been successful in various measures in the country. It barely mentions the role of Indian professionals in different departments of American secular life, nor the exceptional performance of Hindu children in American schools or the Spelling Bee. All these are part of a very complex scenario wrought with immense and as yet unimagined possibilities which she hardly touches. But in this chapter, Doniger answers some of the criticisms and complaints leveled against American scholars like herself who write on Hinduism. She does this with understanding and sympathy, rather than anger (given some extremely sharp comments on her scholarship and even right to write on Hinduism), and in a commendably balanced tone. Here again, she reminds the (Hindu) reader of the extraordinary diversity: “… there is seemingly no limit to the variations that Hindus have rung on every aspect of their religion. Authenticity is … a difficult concept to apply to any representation of Hinduism (p. 650).”

In another chapter (24) we read about the colorful ways in which ancient icons and approaches have been re-incarnating in the modern world, reflecting the persistence and tenacity of systems and worldviews that, with all the breakthroughs in knowledge and revolutions in life-styles, the Hindu psyche can never led go of in their totality. Put differently, the firm anchor to the past is a reflection of the adaptive resilience of a culture that is deeply rooted, yet strong and flexible in creative ways.

On history

In the climactic chapter of the book (25), Doniger reflects on the uses and abuses of history generally, with particular references to Indian history, here again recalling the duality, both in theory and in practice, that characterizes the Hindu mode. It may be said of any great civilization that its significant accomplishments have been both great and ignoble, that it has both enriched and hurt its own people and others. Doniger’s narrative illustrates this general proposition to the Hindu case. She does this so well, and forgetting for a moment the relevance of this principle in the case of Rome or Europe, Islam or the United States, the reader can fully appreciate how glaringly applicable it is in the Hindu context. I also felt as I read through the pages that she has done this with a deep understanding of and (for the more part) greater empathy for Indic culture than her critics could have imagined or expected, let alone done themselves. She pays homage to “the infinite inventiveness of this great (Hindu) civilization, which has never had a pope to rule certain narratives unacceptable (p. 689).” And she rightly laments, as any lover of India who has not allowed the heart and mind to be clouded as a result of some very real dangers that the country and culture are facing today both from within and from without, “that now there are some who would set up such a papacy in India, smuggling into Hinduism a Christian idea of orthodoxy.” She is also optimistic in recognizing that there are voices and forces that strive to prevent this from happening.

Some concluding thoughts

Every Non-Hindu, whether scholar or lay person, who has any interest in the Hindu world is likely to read and benefit from this book. Many English-educated Hindus may also skim through the book, even if only reluctantly. Wendy Doniger who has devoted a lifetime to the study of Sanskrit and to (her own) elucidation of Hindu culture has written a semi-popular, but erudite treatise on aspects of classical India, drawing largely from original texts. The book is certainly a solid contribution to a global understanding of the Hindu world from interesting perspectives, tracing, as it does, the roots of Hindu worldviews to the vast corpus of literature, lay and religious, oral and written, in Sanskrit and in Tamil, ranging from Vedic hymns and the great epics to the Upanishads, Puranas, and more that have breathed life into Indic culture. Though interspersed with tongue-in-cheek comments which are not likely to sit well with all readers, the book is a delight to read. It brings together the many strands that weave traditional Hinduism into a rainbow richness, with its dichotomies and marvelous contradictions. There are not too many social histories of classical India, certainly none of this sweep and subtlety. What is sorely missing in the book is a narrative on the independent India of the past six decades and more, which has become oh so different, for the good and for the bad, from the purana India she has painted so well and in such detail.

Not all Hindus will be thrilled by the tone of the book here and there, but it is difficult for any objective reader to deny that Wendy Doniger has worthily executed the task she had set for herself: to capture the evolution to Hindu culture with emphasis on the perspectives of the underclass. In the process she educates everyone, or at least enriches the eager reader in countless ways.

V. V. Raman

Emeritus Professor of Physics and Humanities

Rochester Institute of Technology

April 15, 2009

On Hitchens’ God is Not Great: how religions poison everything (2007)

Preamble: If you find my reflections on this book to be somewhat perplexing, it will be because I don’t subscribe to the ancient view that categorizes everything in the world into Good and Evil. Regrettably, this book which is so insightfully eloquent in condemning religions falls into that same ancient trap. That is why, borrowing a Dickensian phrase, I will say that this is the best of books, this is the worst of books (on religion). It is best in its merciless flogging of all that is bad in religions. It is worst in its inability to see anything good whatever in religious traditions. So I praise this book, and I also criticize it. I agree with much of what it says about religions. I am unhappy that it ignores many other matters about religions. Contents and title: Leaving aside minor mistakes like the alleged assassination of “the elected president of India” (p. 199), and blatant sensationalism like “Hindu child brides in India are flogged and sometimes burned alive,” (p.51), this is one of the most eloquent, powerful and (by and large) intelligent articulations of the atheist’s manifesto on religion. It is replete with instance after instance of how religion-inspired behavior and scriptures have been embarrassments to rational thinking and common decency all through human history. Its litany of absurdities and horrors  should make any atheist jump in ecstasy while theists  may be provoked to exclaim that it is the devil who is not great. It would seem that Hitchens is deriving some perverse pleasure from taunting religionists,  because he has deliberately chosen a title to challenge the daily  proclamation from mosques and minarets, when a more appropriate one would be: Religions are not Great.Language: Most of Hitchen’s narratives are well-reasoned, his arguments are incisive, and his anecdotes are telling. Unfortunately, some of them are marred by ad hominem attacks, with words like fraud, hypocrite, fool, and idiot. Thus, Malcolm Muggeridge is silly (p. 145); Pascal reminds him “of the hypocrites and frauds who abound in Talmudic Jewish rationalization (p. 212);” Pascal’s  “theology is not far short of sordid” (p. 211). Mel Gibson is an Australian fascist  (p. 104). But his favorite epithet is stupid. Bishop Heber’s hymn is  stupid (p. 199); the “gruesome laws of the Pentateuch are stupid” (p. 121); the notion of  intelligent design is stupid (p. 85); the factions which took an interest in native-American burial grounds were stupid (p. 162); the magazine in honor of Osho is also stupid (p. 197). Gone are the days when the polished language and refined reasoning of Bertrand Russell were the model for attacks on religion.  Just as the boundary lines in movies have gradually been stretched in the use of foul language, coarse attacks on religion are also becoming more daring and explicit. Now you can use the word stupid half a dozen times in a book that is less than 300 pages to make your point. Such language is quite acceptable, except in regions and religions where the author’s physical existence will be put at risk. Indeed, the strongest argument against religions should be, aside from the superstitions they engender, the threats they pose to free thought and speech wherever their spokesmen hold power over people’s lives. Hitchens doesn’t devote enough pages for this.One-sided grudge: Hitchens speaks bluntly about the evils perpetrated by religionists, and also truthfully about the inconsistencies inherent in religious doctrines. But the way he presents his case is like that of the man who, because of a major car accident in his childhood which left a permanent scar on his psyche, was inspired to write a treatise called: Automobiles are not Great: How cars kill people and pollute the atmosphere. Such a book might say it all very well, but then the automobile industry has manipulated the public into believing they can’t live without the vehicle. Also, the public has grown so accustomed to its more useful aspects (especially if they can avoid DWI and invent effective catalytic converters) that they are not yet ready to set all cars on fire. That is the situation with religion in the world. At this point its usefulness outweighs its negative impacts. This is why it is not likely that this book will displace religions from human culture any more than that a mosquito will move a mammoth. Practically every horrible thing the book details is valid, but its merciless denigration of religions is like the unsophisticated report of the garbage-collector who imagines that households generate only trash and filth. Lack of experiential background: Hitchens has visited many religious congregations all over the world, of all faiths and denominations. I too did exactly that for a whole year, and was greatly enriched by participating in the spiritual richness  and beautiful music that the services offered, and touched by the genuine caring and the charitable impulses that they fostered.  But Hitchens does not seem  care for any of the aesthetic dimensions of religions, much less been moved to lofty heights by the visions, real or imaginary, poetic or promised, of any religion.  It appears that as one who has only observed them as an unsympathetic outsider, he hasn’t been able to taste any aspect of religion the way practitioners do. This is fine, but on that constrained basis he is not entitled to insist that others shouldn’t or can’t taste them either, or that those who do are mindless. Indeed, sometimes he writes like postmodernists who blurt out inanities about science without ever having done a laboratory experiment, peered through a telescope, or done a complex calculation. Charges against religion: In making his case for why religions ought to be dispensed with, Hitchens lists a series of charges against them (p. 205), all of which are valid up to a point, and none of which is taken literally by countless practitioners of the major religions in this day and age. The first of these, “presenting a false picture of the world to the innocent and the credulous” reveals his bias: the pictures are not false (which implies intention to cheat), but mistaken (like the 18^th century phlogiston theory), formulated centuries ago by thinkers who did not have the benefit of the knowledge and insights we possess today. We can in fairness blame the folks who adopt them today, but not the originators of the ideas. He lists the doctrine of blood sacrifice as another evil. But not all religions subscribe to this: Christianity, Buddhism, Sikhism, Jainism, and Vaishnava Hinduism are generally against this practice, and they include vast numbers of religious people. “The doctrine of atonement” which he condemns also is a metaphysical mode for accepting responsibility for misbehavior, and seems to work well on people who haven’t brought themselves up to the level of self-criticism and self-punishment for undetected actions that are hurtful to others. The fourth charge is “the doctrine of eternal reward and/or punishment.” Again, a valid criticism, but it works well among the masses. When artifacts were stolen from the Baghdad museum after the fall of Hussein, an Imam issued a call to the vandals, threatening them with eternal residence in the Islamic hell: sure enough, many items  promptly found their way back to where they belonged. A misguided doctrine for sure, but one that served a purpose. The last charge, “the imposition of impossible tasks and rules,” strikes me as being the least serious. Such rules have always existed in civilized societies. True enough, most of them have their roots in religions, and border on the ideal. Celibacy,  refraining from promiscuity and pork, loyalty to spouse and the like are not as terrible as they are made out to be. More often than not they are secretly violated, maybe with an occasional feeling of guilt. Harsh judgments: In his scathing analysis, Hitchens spares no sacred book. In his rebukes he gives not an iota of respect to anything remotely linked to a traditional religion, not even to the Beatitudes. In his judgment on prophets and saints, he doesn’t mince any word: The Dalai Lama’s pronouncements are absurd (p. 200); Martin Luther became a bigot (p. 180); Muhammad is a mammal (p. 135); Augustine was “a self-centered fantasist and an earth-centered ignoramus” (p. 64); all he can say about Abraham is that he “agreed to murder his son” (p. 207).Positive aspects: It must be said that the  commentaries of  Hitchens are extremely  persuasive. He comes to the point with ruthless frankness. His book is spiced with random, if sometimes superficial, tidbits on practically all the religions that count, which makes for interesting reading. It is difficult for enlightened minds not to resonate with the harsh comments on the dark sides of religion that Hitchens paints in profusion and with great passion. At the very least, any fair reader has to be empathetic to the understandable anger and frustration that so many feel about the madness and mayhem that still emanate from many mindless practitioners of religions. Sadly for human civilization, in the context of the atrocities and abominations that have been and still are being perpetrated in the name of God and religion, a book like this is inevitable, perhaps even necessary. That’s why ours is an age in which treatises on atheism are doing well in the marketplace. Richard Dawkins, Daniel Dennett and Sam Harris are leading luminaries in this matter. This book is another solid contribution to this growing field.  

Concluding thought: Even if this book angers many who are wedded to ancient worldviews and saddens those who wish to see more balanced portrayals of one of the most persistent and meaningful institutions in human civilization, it can certainly serve as a valuable eye-opener for the uninformed and the uninitiated. With appropriate commentaries, this book could serve as a good antidote to naïve and extremist exaltations of the outworn doctrines and dangerous incitements to fanatical behavior that are very much part of today’s world.

On Frank J. Tipler’s “The Physics of Immortality: Modern Cosmology, God, and Resurrection.”

On Frank J. Tipler’s “The Physics of Immortality: Modern Cosmology, God, and Resurrection.”

This daring book with a catchy title, written by a physicist at Tulane University, elaborates on the conviction of the author that the results of current cosmological theories have finally proved the existence of God, and much more. Readers of E. T. Bell’s Men of Mathematics may remember the questionable anecdote in which Euler reportedly told an unbelieving Diderot in Catherine the Great’s court, “Sir, (a + bⁿ )/n = x, hence God exists.” The mathematically untutored Diderot (so  the story goes) could not reply and promptly went back to France. This book may be regarded as a more serious, and considerably expanded, version of Euler’s quip. The book interprets the many insights of modern cosmology in terms that should be soothing to the average person who has been let down by the dismal long-range predictions of 19th century thermodynamics and 20th century astrophysics. Scientists like Pierre Duhem, Balfour Stewart, and P. G. Tait once tried to circumvent the ominous Clausius prediction of a heat death that would eventually consume the entire universe, but they did not carry the day. Now at last we have a more optimistic treatise whose cheerful thesis is developed on the “physical assumption that the universe must be capable of sustaining life indefinitely” (p. 11). Its message should also be exciting to theologians and others who speak with some authority, if not first hand experience, on afterlife, for it argues that an essential consequence of 20th century scientific probing is the discovery that heaven and purgatory do exist, as reported in some of the highly revered holy books of the world. More important, Tipler claims to have shown that resurrection of the dead will occur, as reiterated periodically in many dominical sermons. But before we rush to make special arrangements for our caskets on this basis, let us note that by “resurrection” the author means simulation of ourselves “in the computer minds of the far future” (p. 227).  It is all based on the picturesque Omega Point Theory. “Omega Point” refers to the final state of the universe. It is to the future what the Big Bang is to the past: a terminal point on the time axis. It is not some poetic metaphysical concept but comes in the context of quantum cosmology with wave function, boundary condition, and all. Tipler gives half a dozen (what he calls) experimental tests for his theory (pp. 139–153), although the final confirmation may not come in the next hundred billion years. The universal wave function is the Holy Spirit. The Omega Point not only will resurrect us but also will love us. Furthermore, there are aspects of Tipler’s theory (Turing-test-passing subprogram) that correspond to angels (p. 157). His theory also absolves “God of moral responsibility for evil” (p. 264), which has often been an embarrassment for traditional theologians. Tipler declares himself to be a non-Christian, indeed an atheist. He confesses that he does “not yet even believe in the Omega Point” (p. 305). But he assures the orthodox that he will attempt to avoid any of the standard heresies regarding the doctrine of the Trinity (p. 313) and is eager to prove that 20th century science is confirming Judeo-Cristain visions of the divine. Nevertheless, in conformity with the multicultural spirit of our times, Tipler is commendably inclusive in his references to religious beliefs. He shows that “the resurrection model in the Omega Point Theory is natural to the Chinese tradition” (p. 272). He assures us that “the afterlife predicted by the Omega Point Theory is quite consistent with the afterlife expected in most African societies” (p. 280). He quotes from Hindu scriptures to let us know that “the afterlife of the Rig Veda is completely consistent with the. . . Omega Point Theory” (p. 273). Similarly, though some Buddhist scholars may insist that their religion is atheistic, Tipler finds reasons to believe that “the Blissful Realm of Japanese Buddhism seems completely consistent with the Heaven predicted by the Omega Point Theory” (p. 278). Also, “The nature of resurrection according to the Qur’an is essentially the same as that outlined in this book” (p. 299); and his theory is “in agreement with the universal Muslim belief on the absolute oneness of God” (p. 304). Furthermore, unlike most other attempts at a United Nations approach to religions, Tipler’s does not ignore the religious beliefs of Amerindians. “If the Omega Point Theory is true,” he informs us, “the hopes of the Native Americans will be fulfilled” (p. 283). Tipler’s insistence that theology should be a part of physics (p. 10) is essentially a call to return to medieval scholasticism, in which there was indeed no distinction between science and theology. He correctly recognizes that “religion can be based on physics only if the physics shows that God has to be personal, and further, that the afterlife is an absolutely solid consequences of the physics,” and asserts that his Omega Point Theory accomplishes these feats ( p. 327). However outlandish some of Tipler’s claims may sound to the average practicing physicist, his arguments are based on both an understanding of current physical theories and a study of sister disciplines like philosophy and religion. Even when he talks of the soul and immortality, of resurrection and paradise, Tipler defines the terms using concepts like the Penrose c-boundary, the Poincaré recurrence theorem, and levels of implementation (computer jargon referring to processes within virtual machines). Immortality for him is when information processing never ends. Only here and there are his psychological motivations explicitly stated. For example, after giving a series of arguments in favor of Everett’s many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics, he states that if this interpretation it true, “then we can prove to be true what most people would very much like to be true” (p. 172). Essentially, the Omega Point Theory conjectures the evolution of super-minds before the final dismal astrophysical catastrophe gobbles up the whole universe in one final black hole. These minds would then persist indefinitely, rejoicing in their own virtual reality. Besides being fascinating in its bold proclamations, this is, in fact, a very weighty book, filled with complex ideas and sophisticated results. Unlike some others who rush to these themes where angels fear to tread, Tipler displays an impressive breadth of knowledge and engages the reader in quite a bit of profound thinking. Unfortunately, many practicing physicists are likely to chuckle at Tipler’s claims without even going through his pages, and very few non-physicist readers will be able to decipher the bulk of his Appendix for Scientists, which demands more than a modicum of knowledge of global general relativity, current advances in high energy physics, and computer complexity theory: framework on which the Omega Point hypothesis rests. Tipler intends his work to be a “popular book,” and indeed it has been featured on at least one popular TV show. However, not too many people whose lives have been enriched by faith in God will even bother about the mathematical proofs for the divine principle. The ergo est formulation of God’s existence is of interest only to professors, authors of books and papers, and debaters, not to the spiritually awakened souls of the world. In 1888, when the positive sciences were on the ascendant, Madame Blavatsky published The Secret Doctrine, a massive tome replete with ancient writings and quotes from 19th century scientists, to establish that all the results of the physics and cosmology of her period lay implicit in the occult writings of ancient Egyptians, Hindus, and Buddhists. Tipler’s book is on target with our Zeitgeist. We live in an age when people feel they have had enough of science and rational thought, which have led us to theories that make God irrelevant and ethics a function of situations. Our sciences have dragged us to doubt and to atheism, while technology, with all its creature comforts, has engendered pollution, population problems, and the depletion of rain forests. Add to all this a degrading drug culture, crippling crime waves, promiscuous sex, broken families, and low SAT scores to boot: we have had it. It’s time to sing, “Give me that old time religion…” The only snag has been that (at least for the college-educated lot) it is difficult to be convinced de rerum natura by soothing songs and eloquent sermons. Most book-readers find it difficult to rid themselves of the suspicion that science tells it like it is, while religion and poetry are only meant to make us feel good. Now, if only science (not theology) can prove that there is indeed a Santa Claus, some of the deepest emotional problems of the modern world would be considerably alleviated. This calls for a rebirth of the old physics> Books like The Tao of Physics and the Dancing Wu Li Masters, condemnation of Descartes and the belittling of the Enlightenment, holistic medicine and multiculturalism, all have set the stage for such a paradigm shift, unwittingly spawning a resurgence of interest in astrology, telepathy and psychic revelations.

Tipler has written a masterpiece for the Age of Aquarius, conferring much-craved scientific respectability on what we have always wanted to believe in. His insight that “in the end, reason will sway emotion” (p. 9) may not be entirely correct, for often it is the opposite that occurs.

On Fred Watson’s “Stargazer: The Life and Times of the Telescope.”

The word science often conjures up visions of theories, concepts, ideas and explanations, rather than of the countless instruments that make science possible. One of the first instruments which instigated the birth of modern science was the telescope. Aiding Galileo and other pioneers in their quest, it has revealed to human perception celestial bodies from nearby asteroids to distant galaxies. Associated with every development of telescopes, from Lippershey’s simple TWO-LENS device to the OWL (overwhelmingly large) telescopes are mortals with dreams and problems, ideas and frustrations. The Stargazer in the title refers as much to telescopes as to astronomers. This fascinating book tells us all about telescopes, and a good deal about the men and women behind them.

After a brief look into telescopes in the new century, and after after a sketch of the last pre-telescopic astronomer-giant Tycho, known as the Eyes of Denmark, the author takes us on a fascinating tour of the world of telescopes: their forms and lengths, their stories and rivalries, all intertwined with people with genius, temperaments, and convictions. These included amateurs and experts, sisters and wives, chemists and mathematicians. As we get to know the telescopes we also get a glimpse of the human side of the telescope-saga: about Cavalieri’s pre-Newtonisn treatise (Lo specchio utorio: The burning mirror), which dealt with paraboloid mirrors and suggested the idea of a reflecting mirror before Newton,  about Newton’s adamant declaration that achromatic lens was impossible, about how lens-making monopoly drove many to bankruptcy and dismal prisons, about the humble beginnings and early death of Josef von Fraunhofer whose work initiated spectroscopy, about the sudden birth of astrophysics, and more.

As with other histories, in science history too only the very famous are remembered. Yet, the great ones of history needed many lesser known workers in the completion of their tasks. Watson gives them a place in the pages of history. Everyone has heard of Newton, but not many know of James Gregory who too had conceived the idea of a reflecting telescope and even tried to construct one before Isaac Newton. When Robert Hooke brought this fact to the attention of the Royal Socuety, it began “a long and bitter feud” between Newton and Gregory regarding reflecting telescopes. Gregory died at 36 of a stroke he suffered while observing a Jovian satellite. Many may have heard of William Herschel, but not many may know about the assistance the great astronomer received from his sister Caroline who lived to be a hundred, 25 years in loneliness after her brother’s death. Astronomers have heard of William Huggins’ work on stellar spectral lines, but not about the chemist William Miller who was his comrade on the path to astrophysics, nor about the support that Huggins got from Margaret his wife in his scientific endeavors.

The book is replete with fascinating facts, presented as a very engaging narrative on a great many people who had anything at all to do with telescopes. It tells us about the kinds of telescopes that have been built, the controversies and conflicts surrounding their design and construction, and about the location of some of the larger telescopes in the world today. Astronomer Watson reflects on his subject without refracting any facts, and by focusing on the rich history he throws much light on the subject with astronomic sweep.

On Louise M. Anthony et al.’s Philosophers without Gods: Meditations on Atheism and the Secular Life.

The essays in this book by mostly disillusioned Christians and Jews writing on topics like “From Yashiva to Secular,” “Overcoming Christianity,” “On Becoming a Heretic,” and “Divine Evil,”  imply that atheism is superior, more rational, and less prone to fanaticism. The concluding essay tries  to show that faith automatically leads to fanaticism, ignoring the facts  that non-religious fanatics have done no less havoc than religious ones, and that billions of religious people are not automatically fanatics. But the central point of atheism is that God is a human concept, useful perhaps to some, but quite unnecessary for the important things in life. One can be moral, respectful, reverential, caring, and compassionate and all the rest without believing in a supernatural punishing God. In so far as this point is explained well in the essays,  the book is worth reading. The standard arguments against atheism are also answered forcefully and intelligently by the authors. But it is not pointed out that one doesn’t have to be anti-religion to be an atheist; many balanced atheists have little interest in the gods of the religions. Only the fanatics among them are on a crusade to destroy other people’s faith. Fortunately, the authors of these essays don’t seem to belong to that category.

On John Casti’s The Cambridge Quintet: A work of Scientific Speculation

In this  slender volume, John Casti takes the reader to an imaginary dinner party in Cambridge (England) some fifty years ago  at which five intellectual stalwarts who had unknowingly laid the foundations for what has come to be known as AI (Artificial Intelligence) exchange views and ideas on the nature, uniqueness, and possibility of non-biological replication of some of the unique functions of the brain. These are C. P. Snow, Erwin Schrödinger, Ludwig Wittgenstein, J. B. S. Haldane, and Alan Turing: names with which the general public may not be very familiar. The discussants argue and counter-argue on how important other experiences (such as pain and pleasure) are for consciousness and intelligence, whether mind is distinct from matter, the relevance of form to substance for intelligence to arise, about the role of language and culture, etc. From their conversations (which could be turned into a high-brow play for universities and academics) even the uninitiated reader can learn a great deal about this important subject, and the initiated will become aware of certain aspects and sources of the history of AI. The book, which is delightful reading all through, belongs to the Meeting-of-the-Minds genre of writing, and it closes with a short and intelligent summation which brings us up to date on the evolution of the subject, with appropriate reference materials. Highly recommended to all readers who wish to know about an important scientific thought current of our age, and how it all began in the minds of a few extremely intelligent and deeply insightful  individuals.

On Lorne Ladner’s Th Lost Art of Compassion: Discovering the Practice of Happiness in the Meeting of Buddhism and Psychologist.

We live in an extraordinary age of wonderful scientific breakthroughs and marvelous technological achievements. Possibilities for cure of pernicious diseases and for health and longevity keep increasing. But ours is also an age of spiritual anguish and moral confusions, of promiscuous sex and savage violence. Crudeness, combativeness, and religious intolerance seem to be on the rise. In this context, it is refreshing to read a book that brings us wholesome worldviews that could help restore some balance in human interactions, based on both scientific  and spiritual insights on compassion.

Though the title and principal theme of the book relate to compassion – the cardinal virtue in the Buddha’s teachings – the author, who is a trained psychologist and practitioner of Buddhism,  gives his readers many worthy understandings of the human mind and human capacities for good.

The book is spiced with interesting anecdotes and reflections. The connections between Buddhist tenets and findings of current psychology add scientific support to the recommendations in the book. Reminders of eventual death and the ephemeral nature of existence may not be original, but they can inspire restraining reflections on people on the verge of rash or harsh behavior. There are also intelligent analyses of the  basic urge for happiness in the book. The author presents a clarification of the notion of happiness which should be useful to readers.

There is no question but that raw aggressiveness and self-centered acts of cruelty and exploitation seem to pervade modern societies, and the book is meant to transform them to gentler and more civilized modes. However, it is important to remember that our appraisal of the world’s moral status is often derived from the daily news. This view of the world is, for most people, very different from the world in which most people normally live during their waking hours. When calamities arise, not just in our neighborhood but in distant lands too, the outpouring of caring, compassion, and concrete assistance has generally been at more than a modest level. In other words, the art of compassion is not as lost as the title of the book suggests.

Then again, it is not clear that even among peoples where Buddhism is the principal faith, there is the kind of universal compassion that one would imagine in that framework. When one reads about the Sermon on the Mount or the Ten Commandments in Tibet, the reader should not assume that all the people in Judeo-Christian societies put those nuggets of wisdom into practice.

This is not to say that the  wisdom and perspectives spelled out in this book are not relevant or significant. Irrespective of one’s religious affiliation or absence thereof, one can benefit enormously by following the recipes for Compassion Practices given in the last sections of the book, à la Dale Carnegie. These instructions are meaningful, enriching, and practical. If only all were to make honest attempts to live up to them the world would surely be a better place.

This is the kind of book that can have only positive impact on readers, especially if they are in the early stages of value-formation.

On Jimmy Carter’s “Our Endangered Values: America’s Moral Crisis.”

A  nation’s life is like that of a person: it has its ups and downs, successes and defeats, days of glory and of shame, times for jubilation and times for grief. These contrasting states may arise from external factors that tilt one’s fortunes, but equally from the decisions one makes, consciously or unwittingly, with wisdom or with short-range benefits in mind. Even a positively inclined observer will recognize that in addition to a growing paucity of resources, the Unites States is facing as seldom before immense problems in a great many spheres.  The nation has lost much of the high regard it enjoyed from people and governments all over the world, though the ideals it stands for are still much respected in most places. The scene within the country is not any better. Political debates have degenerated in quality, special interest groups secretly or overtly tamper with Congressional decisions through blatant financial inducements, ideological opponents resort to ad hominem attacks, and the country is more deeply divided in many ways than ever before in the past hundred years.

Our endangered values: America’s moral crisis is an insightful book on these issues. It is written by a man who needs no introduction, for he was once President of the United States and recipient of the Nobel Prize for Peace. Jimmy Carter has gone through the length and breadth of this country, traveled to many parts of the world, interacted with leaders and common people, with businessmen, educators, scientists, economists, and more. The book’s thesis is simple: While we have made progress in science, technology and industry, we have been gradually losing the values and ideals that made this a great nation: a nation that could be depended upon for help and assistance, as well as for international cooperation and leadership, one that has often stood for peace and  cared for its own poor. Many of those ideals and values are eroding. The book gives myriad examples of this, and discusses how they came about.

Carter explains that ironically a major cause of the erosion of America’s moral values is to be found in the very institution that should nurture moral behavior, namely, religion. More exactly, it is not religion which disfigures the face of a nation, but a perverse parody of it: religious fundamentalism. Carter incisively describes its principal traits as “rigidity, domination, and exclusion.” Fundamentalism is any ideology that leads to intolerance and exclusion, and is insensitively blind to other perspectives. [Incidentally it can manifest itself in science as scientism and in politics as communism and fascism.] When such a system comes to power anywhere, it could spell disaster. That, says Carter, is what has been happening to America in recent years.Carter has no problems with fellow Christians who may believe in a six-day creation of the world six thousand years ago and in such other matters as one reads in holy books. He respects every individual’s right to religious beliefs and sincerity of heart. However, when people who take mythopoesy literally insist that it should be part of the science curriculum in schools, it does not bode well for the country.

Then again, when sectarian ethics is used for formulating national policies, such as those relating to abortion, gay rights, and capital punishment, matters can become contentious in a nation which has grown out of its moral and epistemic infancy. Unfortunately, Carter points out, “leaders of the highly organized Christian Right have successfully elevated into American political debate some of the most divisive social questions.” In a world where science and enlightenment are still struggling to emerge as emancipated worldviews, efforts to return to the narrowness and  values of a by-gone age  are not in the best interest of civilization.

Aside from his career as a political leader, and as  man of faith, Carter is also an informed scientist. He is concerned about the scant attention the government pays to environmental issues, favoring the oil industry and energy producers over efficiency and ecological wisdom. As a reflective thinker who understands the role and relevance of both science and religion in a civilized world, he argues well for his position that there is no conflict between science and religion, fully convinced that the splendor and wonder in the world “is not all an accident.” In our current state of ideological polarization it is hard for some to grant that there is nothing unscientific in this position. Indeed, all through this book Carter speaks as a Christian. He admits he made a tactical blunder in 1976 when he told someone in the presence of reporters that he was a born-again Christian. As a result, it was quickly reported that Jimmy Carter was hearing messages from heaven, and that according to him God had made him a candidate superior to others. Through this anecdote Carter reveals how unwise it is in this secularist  age for a politician to confess his or her faith in public, but he also exposes how headline-seeking reporters bring to ridicule any public figure who mentions faith or God.

Carter talks about his cordial interactions with Pope John Paul with whom he frankly disagreed on liberation theology and the role of women in the Church. He says quite simply that “The government and the church are two different realms of service, and those in political office have to face a subtle but important difference between the implementation of the high ideals of religious faith and public duty.” It is sad that this principle, on which the United States was founded, needs to be reiterated after more than two centuries of its successful practice.

All through the book, whether he is talking about homosexuality or divorce, about abortion or the death penalty, Jimmy Carter is consistent in his adherence to the principle of separation of church and state. As president, whenever he saw a conflict between his own religious values and his oath to uphold the Constitution of the United States, the latter was always more sacred to him. He reveals that he used to pray regularly in the White House for “patience, courage, and the wisdom to make good decisions,” as also “for peace – for ourselves and others…” Carter is amazed by the lack of sensitivity towards gays and lesbians on the part of supposedly religious people. He reminds us of the irony that those who are overly concerned about the unborn are for state-sanctioned murder which is what death penalty is. And he argues that Christ would be against the death penalty.

In a chapter entitled the Distortion of American Foreign Policy, Carter discusses the deterioration of our interactions with other nations, like Cuba, North Korea and Latin American countries. He lists the disastrous consequences of short-sighted, insensitive and bungled foreign policies in virtually every region of the world, which has cost our country much in many ways, especially in terms of the goodwill of billions of people. In this context he refers to the popularization of Biblical prophesies about the coming of the Messiah through the myths of the Left Behind series. These books speak in dead seriousness about the coming occupation of the Holy Land by Christians, the final conversion of Jews to Christianity or their immolation, and about the en masse transportation of all Christians to Heaven where they will watch the torture of others who are left behind. Incredibly, even in this age of space exploration, unified field theories, and computer technology, millions of Americans and others are seduced into such stories by persuasive Bible-quoting writers. This may be depressing to enlightened Christians who have not fallen into the Fundamentalist trap, and amusing to Non-Christians. But what is alarming, says Carter, is that people with such views have gained influence in the higher echelons of American government.

Carter admits it was “especially unpleasant” for him to write about the American government’s reaction to 9/11 which has included curtailing human rights and due process, deportation of immigrants, detention without trial, prisoner abuse, acceptance of torture, and other practices that painfully deviate from the highest ideals for which this country has always stood. The government which is charged with the responsibility of protecting its citizens from ruthless terrorists is no doubt under great stress. Its spokesmen argue that the war on terror is unlike any other war, and that our enemies do everything they can to take advantage of the American system of fairness and justice, and that in this context it is not always possible to adhere to international treaties and conventions.  But civilized behavior demands that under no circumstances should we deviate from justice and the rule of law, human rights and humane treatment of prisoners.

Carter talks about our dismal failure in putting  brakes on the proliferation of nuclear weapons. Our offensive characterization of nations which are already on the defensive only tends to make them react irrationally and belligerently. Intelligent leadership should bring them around through statesmanship and reassurance rather than by provocative and threatening proclamations.

Carter is very clear about military service, war, and his conscience as a Christian. He sees nothing wrong in a war to defend the country from foreign aggression. Prompted by terrorism and anti-American rhetoric, the current administration has announced a policy of preemptive attack. Carter deplores this because it “has forced the United States to renounce existing treaties and alliances as unnecessary constraints on our superpower’s freedom to act unilaterally.” He speaks out openly against the war in Iraq which he regards as hasty, unjustified, and based on misinformation. He stops short of describing the excuses given for this war as lies.

Carter is unhappy with the meager foreign aid given by Washington these days compared to other industrially advanced nations. “Sharing wealth with those that are starving and suffering unnecessarily is a value by which a nation’s moral values are measured,” he writes. He calculates on the basis of our $11 trillion gross national income that the U.S. government and people together give as aid about 22 cents for every hundred dollars in aid. Just as civilized religion can engender a fundamentalist wing, productive capitalism can sire greed, selfishness, and heartless exploitation. When capitalism morphs to such monstrosity, it too undermines the moral framework of nations. In this mode, caring for the poor and concern about the health-care of the less fortunate are not as urgent as the bottom line for shareholders. In Carter’s analysis, the heartless side of capitalism has entered the body politic of America.

The book concludes with a brief and thoughtful statement on the role and responsibility of a superpower. As such, Carter’s book and his concluding statement should be regarded as a wake-up call for America.T his book may be seen as a scathing indictment of President Bush and his advisors. But in a deeper sense it is an analysis of the crucial contexts where, because of forces seen and unseen, the country has moved away from her inherent decency and historical ideals. Jimmy Carter’s reflections may sound like a tirade by a mindless America-hater of which there are millions all over the world. But it is in fact a sad and cool-headed analysis of some of the ways in which America has been erring in the recent past. And it is written beautifully by someone who loves this country and has served it with distinction in a hundred ways, who is a devout and enlightened Christian, who is a humanist and  humanitarian,  who is deeply committed to international understanding and peace.

Jimmy Carter is respected all over the world his for honesty and decency. He knows what he is writing about, and he writes with simplicity and clarity, with truthfulness and passion. The contents of this book should be an eye-opener for those who are still oblivious to the dangers that lurk within the country from misguided patriots, religious zealots, and blundering politicians. It is a beacon of hope for America that it has thinkers like Jimmy Carter with depth of understanding, enlightened religious sensitivity,  and the courage to write books of this kind.

On Ursula Goodenough’s “The Sacred Depths of Nature.”

Though some have cautiously kept science and religion apart, remembering the theme  in Ecclesiastes that “To everything there is a season, and a time in every purpose under the heaven,” there has been, in recent decades, a spate of books that try to build bridges between the two. Of these, some seek to find science in  time-honored religious texts, while others seek religion in well-established scientific results. The book under review belongs to the latter category. I have difficulty seeing the Big Bang in the Bible or vacuum fluctuations in the Vedas, but astrophysics and unified fields do resonate with my spiritual chords. So I thoroughly enjoyed reading Goodenoughs slender volume.During the past century, of all scientific disciplines it was biology that came into open combat with the religious world views of the Judeo-Christian tradition. In an earlier century, Galileo had to answer the Catholic Church for propagating the Copernican model. In the nineteenth century, no Inquisition brought Kelvin to court for estimating the age of the sun, but  in a famous Oxford debate, Huxley had to  argue for the Darwinian declaration. What is ironic is that the hand of God (even as envisioned in the orthodox framework) is nowhere more spectacular than in the biological world. Yes, there is order in the cosmos and beauty in elliptic orbits, but these pale in comparison to the magnificent complexity and variety of life. The mere spectacle of the structure and system apparent even in the simplest of organisms should leave one gasping in wonder  and recognize marvel whatever its source. Or, as Goodenough says it with a personal flourish, “I walk through the Missouri woods and the organisms are everywhere, seen and unseen, flying about or pushing through the soil or rummaging under the leaves, adapting and reproducing. I open my senses to them and we connect (pp. 73-74).”Beginning with a concise review of the earth’s origin, Goodenough  presents a series of glimpses of the biological world view, guiding us step by step through an orchard of results and reflections. With intelligent modesty, she articulates her covenant with Mystery. As one who holds the view that to concede there is mystery in ultimate questions is a  wisdom that tames the arrogance springing from cocksure knowledge and the fanaticism arising from the conviction that we know all about God and the beyond, I applaud her for this. Her pithy phrase “Life has no choice but to evolve (4)” reminded me of an old ditty which said, “Life is so peculiar theres nothing to do but live…” She confesses that once she wallowed in the poignant nihilism (p.10) of Steven Weinbergs oft-repeated reaction upon  recognizing the laws of physics: “The more the universe seems comprehensible, the more it seems pointless.”  [I recall that when I read this memorable sentence, I said to myself that  Weinberg should have added two little words at the end: "to me."] For meaning and point are functions of one’s perspective. After all, Picasso and Verdi, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, could also be pointless if we consider them in the context of the Clausius Heat Death, but are they really pointless to those who appreciate and enjoy them?For when one sees the world as Goodenough does: “…the existence of all this complexity and awareness and intent and beauty and my ability to apprehend it,  steadily, from the beginning to the present. We are all, we creatures who are alive today, equally old, or equally recent (p. 85).” This is a more complex thought, and for all its scientific factualness, it is enriching rather than competing with the vision of being formed by a loving Creator. Whether the topic is meaning or sex, sexuality or death, the discussion is grounded on sound biology, as when she reflects on death: “Death is the price paid to have trees and clams and birds and grasshoppers, and death is the price to have human consciousness, to be aware of all that shimmering awareness and all that love (p. 151).” Here, as elsewhere, her language is simple and clear, uncluttered by abstruse jargon or pedantic verbosity, and her prose lucid, at times poetic. There are short quotes from thinkers and  scriptures at the close of many chapters. Whether it be from the Psalms or Walt Whitman or a lesser known author, these relevant spurts of thought prompt us to a heightened level of appreciation of the wonders around us, and of the sheer splendor of life, and  they contribute to making this book, as one early reader described it, a Dail Devotional. However, while Goodenough recognizes the richness in the wisdom of the ages, hers is not an attempt to establish the correctness of holy books. Indeed she admits to her inability to resonate with some of the traditional beliefs, resulting, for sure from her involvement with science. And because  this involvement has meaningfully matured, she reacts to science  with awareness and alertness, and exemplifies in this work how one can respond religiously to the cold and confirmed facts established by rigorous and disinterested science. The cover of the book which captures tortoises in the Galapagos reminds us of  the slow advance of evolution in the sacred arena of our planet.Religion is an experience with multiple facets. Some relate to prayer, some to surrender to the Almighty, and some others to love and caring. Science may be of little value in these contexts.  But there are two other dimensions of religion which are of no less importance.  One  is contemplation, a contemplation inspired by awe and reverence, and leads to higher levels of awareness. Science can join in here with the religions of the world, albeit at a somewhat esoteric level. Not in the mere recognition of causes, not in the listing of verified hypotheses, not in the prediction of planetary orbits, not in its countless applications, but in its elevation of the human spirit by the contemplation of revealed complexities. When one reflects on the world, standing on the bedrock of science, one can not only undergo a deep religious experience, but also see the essential wisdom in the religious traditions  of the human family. When a sensitive scientific mind contemplates on Nature, it is reminded of the line from a Pawnee prayer (quoted in the book, p. 86): “Remember, remember the sacredness of things….” As Blake saw “heaven in a wild flower,” Goodenough unveils to the reader “the sacred depths of nature.”.Then there is the ethical level. Traditional religions stress personal conduct in relation to those with whom one immediately interacts: parents, children, friends, neighbors, community, etc. And many of them also express a reverence for and pay homage to the powers and principles of Nature. But, with the intertwining of the peoples of the world and the technological assault on the environment there is a crying need for a planetary ethic. This too is a goal of Goodenough’s book. As she clearly states, her agenda “for this book is to outline the foundations for such a planetary ethic, an ethic that would make no claim to supplant existing traditions but would seek to coexist with them, informing our global concerns… (pp. xv-xvii).” She could have said, supplement and fortify them further, instead of “coexist with them.” The concluding chapter of the book (pp. 166 et seq.) explores this idea further. There is no doubt that as we move forward, carrying the boons and burden of  technological onslaught into the impending century, we need to enlarge our ethical visions in the new and rapidly changing contexts. This can be most effectively done by the deep understanding that science offers, and the reverential humility to the world that wisdom fosters. This book accomplishes all this with great charm and insight.

On Alex Comfort’s Reality & Empathy: Physics, Mind and Science in the 21st Century.

Reactions to the intrinsically human obsession to grasp the world of experience in purely intellectual terms have been two-fold: either to extol it as the only instru­ment from arriving at the  Truth (because of its fruitful and exploitable results); or to condemn it as being grossly limited (because it often tends to debunk our cherished beliefs and emotionally satisfying convictions). This book is an effort to bring some order into the chaos of conflicting perceptions that the human brain is capable of. It transforms, or at least significantly enriches, the worldview of 20th century scientific human. This is the work of a scientist, but of one who has probed and transcended the constraints of outworn models. It tackles the age-old problem of the nature and inseparability of the knower and the known, yet from the frame­work of recent physics and psychology. There is Relativity and Quantum Physics here, but also Jungian psychology and meditation. But it is no vulgarization of technical disciplines. It interprets it all from a deeper level of understanding. Presented here and there with deceptive casualness, this is a profound book that jolts our normal modes of viewing the world, especially of the so-called scientist. Highly recommended to all those who wish to appreciate the scientific quest from  profounder psychological and transphysical perspectives. Any book that begins with the statement that “Worlds are created by brains,”  starts from a critical analysis of the Cartesian dichotomy, probes into the I-phenomenon, and  represents the ensemble of phenomena as the eigenstates of an operator  whose eigenfunction is aum  must have something original to say.  So, with its sophisticated symbolic mathematics and scientific metaphysicss, this books us takes us into fascinating realms of the nine lives of Schrödinger’s cat,  and the role of mind in making world models, and parapsychology.