Showing posts with label british humanist association. Show all posts
Showing posts with label british humanist association. Show all posts

Thursday, 13 September 2012

More about a very talented new friend I'm glad to have met.

A couple of weeks ago I posted about the great fun I had at the Ancestor's Trail; you can read about that here.  I've said many times that one of my favourite things about such humanist and secular events is the feeling of community and a general air of (often slightly inebriated) bonhomie.  One of several new friends I made that weekend is Victoria Gugenheim, an immensely talented and rather gorgeous artist who travels all over the world turning people's bodies into beautiful and thought-provoking pieces of tantalisingly ephemeral art.  I didn't mention it in my previous post because - annoyingly - I'd failed to get any good pictures of the work she did at the trail, but I have a couple now including this one (model Helena Biggs, photo by Jo Balcombe):




Victoria herself has also very kindly sent me a couple of other examples of her work:



(The above photo by the very talented Mui Tsun, whose work can be seen here).





... but I wholeheartedly recommend you have a look at this page, where you can see many more examples of the extraordinary work Victoria does.


Ahead of the trail, I actually volunteered to be painted by Victoria as "Mitochondrial Eve". In the event that didn't happen, but Victoria has very kindly agreed to paint me on a different theme at some point when we can both find a free day in our schedules, hopefully within the next few weeks.  I don't want to give too much away, but the plan - in outline, at least - is to explore the way understanding affects our perception of beauty in the natural world. Victoria tells me she loves to work on biologically-themed pieces but doesn't get as many opportunities as she would wish for. Her work also explores the - often neglected or even rejected - relationship between science and the arts, the common misconception that artistic talent and rational thinking tend to be mutually exclusive.  I think this is well worth exploring, because even those of us who adore it can occasionally be guilty of thinking science a coldly logical, unromantic subject - and one of the reasons Professor Dawkins' work is so popular is that it shows us how quite the reverse can be true!

Victoria will be writing a piece on this subject for the November issue of the excellent Athience Magazine; I strongly recommend you look out for it, and I'll link it here when it's published of course.

I can't wait to see how Victoria decides to paint me; I know it'll be striking and unexpected, but beyond that I don't know what to anticipate! (I AM quite nervous about being painted and photographed in - essentially - my knickers, but it'll be totally worth it!)

I'll keep you posted, and of course I'll post the photos once I have them!

Big hugs to Victoria and all my lovely new friends. xxx

PS - Victoria's just sent me the photo below, which is of a piece entitled "DNAges of Man". It's - obviously - rather beautiful, and deals with a subject of which Victoria is fond; "man's struggle to understand the world through religion and finally science with the idea of molecules and chemistry at the shoulderblades and in the face", to use her own words.  Eeeeek, I'm so excited about being painted by this extraordinarily talented artist, I can't wait!


Monday, 27 August 2012

A surreal but wonderful way to spend a weekend

Hi everyone,

As some of my twitter friends know, I've been whinging about being exhausted, bruised and blistered. While I can't boast an experience of quiiite the level of enjoyment the above apparently suggests to certain people who shall remain nameless (and whose idea of good sex I find slightly unnerving), I'm happy to report I've had a weekend very nearly that fun.

This weekend there's an event called the Ancestor's Trail that takes place in the Quantock Hills in Somerset.  It's based on the The Ancestor's Tale by Richard Dawkins, and as he commented himself; many writers have had their works turned into films, but how many can boast that they've been turned into a walk? The whole thing's actually carrying on this morning (it's a bank holiday in the UK), but sadly I couldn't make the entire weekend and came home last night.

The Saturday night in particular turned into one of the most bizarre but enjoyable evenings in my experience.  I went to the event not really knowing what I expected, but dancing to Russian folk music with Richard Dawkins definitely wasn't high on the list of possibilities I'd considered.  I wasn't able to get any photos, but if anyone who was there reads this and has any they'd be willing to share with me please let me know!

On Saturday evening, we were treated to a series of talks by a disparate but consistently charismatic group of speakers.  This started with Peter Exley of the RSPB, who delivered a talk on the conservationist work of his organisation in general (hint; despite what you might think, it's NOT just about birds!) and with reference to the Albatross in particular.  The link from Coleridge's walk in the Quantocks to his eerie and haunting work The Rime of the Ancient Mariner was irresistible and an excellent tool because it gave each of us, I believe, a sense of depth and an investment in the magnificent bird that we might not otherwise have felt.  The RSPB's campaign to save the albatross can be found here if anyone would like to make a donation: http://www.rspb.org.uk/supporting/campaigns/albatross/

Kevin Cox from the World Land Trust was next, and I have to say that some of the figures he delivered were utterly terrifying.  The WLT operates by buying up chunks of land in regions where it's in danger of being destroyed by logging or agriculture; in doing so, of course, they save literally thousands of species whose habitat would otherwise have disappeared altogether.  They're a small organisation and when one considers what they're up against it might be possible to conclude that they're fighting a losing battle. Cox's passion for his cause, though, was obvious and contagious, and the very smallness of the WLT when contrasted against what they've managed to achieve is a testament to what can be done by a small group of people with enough determination; their donations page can be found here: http://www.worldlandtrust.org/supporting/donate. David Attenborough is a patron of the charity - he would approve!

The next speaker was Dr. Alex Taylor from the MRC lab in Cambridge.  Here we made the switch from conservation to "harder" science; his talk about XNA (synthetic and modified DNA/RNA) was meaty and fascinating. I wouldn't be confident enough in my own understanding to try and replicate (ha!) what was said in any detail, but Dr. Taylor's blog can be found here and I promise it'll blow your mind: http://talesfromthenobelfactory.posterous.com/

We had a talk then from Alom Shaha, the author of The Young Atheist's Handbook. For me, speaking honestly, this was the only sour note of the evening. Nobody reacts well to being told they're too stupid/ignorant to be science advocates, atheists - typically somewhat contrary by nature - least of all. Shaha made some very valid points about the comparative difficulty in "coming out" as an atheist from starting points in different cultural backgrounds - which results in the admittedly rather homogenous white, middle-class nature of atheist and humanist groups - but again, the approach was such that my gut reaction was to think "I'm sorry, I'll work on being less middle-class, shall I?!". I should be honest and admit that I have not read Shaha's book.  Many people I spoke with at the event said they were very impressed by it, so it's entirely possible that Shaha comes across better in print than in person, or that I reacted badly to one thing he said and became hypercritical from then on.  If anyone reading this has read the book, do please let me know what you thought of it in the comments section below!

Then, of course, we had the keynote speech from Richard Dawkins. In writing that, I just caught myself about to call him "the global rock star of atheism", and stopped myself because - having talked with him briefly later in the evening - I understand that he thinks of himself far more as a scientist than as an atheist. A reasonable assertion, in fairness; having read most of Professor Dawkins' books, it does seem unfair on reflection that he's so widely known for a single unbelief among a near infinite number of unbeliefs.  Moving on from that, then, Professor Dawkins talked us through the principles of the journey laid out in The Ancestor's Tale, and from there went on to describe some of the ways to think about what would happen if we "replayed the tape" of evolution, and what we could expect by doing so. When I first read the book this concept, this thought experiment, was one of the most fascinating ideas for me. The notion that evolution can be in a sense predictive by looking at how many times certain developments have independently evolved is wonderful; no matter how many times I hear about the diving bell spider it seems too astonishing to be real. The Ancestor's Tale is probably my favourite of Professor Dawkins' books; I recommend it to everyone, and it can be found here: http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Ancestors-Tale-Pilgrimage-Dawn/dp/0753819961/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1346057984&sr=8-1

After the talks, we had the rare and lovely opportunity to drink and chat with the speakers; I was able to ask a slightly moronic question about prion disease of Dr. Taylor (the reason it was moronic was that I hadn't accounted for the energy gradient, but he was very nice about it), and had a good natter with Andrew Copson, the unfailingly charming CEO of the BHA, too.

One of the most wonderful aspects of the gathering, I think, was that virtually everyone had come on their own.  This meant that there were few preexisting cliques, so by the end of my two days there I'd had entertaining, informative and often wickedly funny conversations with just about everybody there, and made many new friends. I've commented before that the sense of community and good will at humanist events is remarkable and wonderful; this was possibly the best example I've had yet of that feeling.  In fact, if I had to choose a way of making humanism more appealing to theists, then - contradictory as it sounds - I would encourage them to attend science-led humanist events so they can see we're NOT the joyless, humourless, rigidly empirical people we're often portrayed to be.

The big walk took place on the Sunday, and although my feet were ready to fall off by the end of the thirteen-mile human trail it was worth every step.  The countryside in the area is achingly beautiful, and the talks of the night before had been the perfect set-up because we all spent the entire hike distracted and entranced by every bird, butterfly and spider we saw. (I also got chased - honestly round in circles for a good five minutes - by an amorous bee to the raucous amusement of the c.120 people who'd just sat down facing in my direction to listen to a poem about the great extinctions, though that was only enjoyable in retrospect.)


Things I have learned this weekend:

If you need new inner soles for your walking boots, get them before the thirteen-mile hike. Ouch.

Scientists can be very nice even when you're asking really dumb questions. Just ask, they're not scary.

When people who live in the country tell you something's ten minutes' walk away, pack your camping gear.

Evolution is really, really cool (I knew that already, but we all need reminding at times).

Humanists and geeks are great fun.

Richard Dawkins can throw shapes with the best of them.

Coffee + alcohol + extreme tiredness can lead to the best of evenings.

Other geeks can recommend a near-endless list of fascinating reading material, and I don't know where to start!

Monday, 19 September 2011

Bloody GOOD

There's an article in the Guardian today about a petition by several distinguished scientists who want to stop creatards and IDiots from presenting their ludicrously unscientific fairy-tales as "fact" in British schools.  Possibly this is a new one, but I'm almost certain I've heard about this petition before and it's not terribly new - that's not the point though, it's still a good thing that it's happening, and I think the more real scientists are willing to stand up and tell the world that "creation science" and "intelligent design" are complete fabrications with no grounding whatsoever in fact, the better and the more people will come to realise that creationism really ISN'T a legitimate belief.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/education/2011/sep/19/scientists-demand-guidelines-creationism-schools

I only learned quite recently that evolution is not a mandatory part of the national curriculum, and the fact's terrifying because it means that state-funded "faith" schools are free to promote creationism alone, with no obligation to tell the kids that it's utter bollocks and that there's a legitimate scientifically verified alternative.  The BHA have launched an e-petition to the government to correct this; I've signed already, but I'd like to encourage anyone reading this who doesn't want creationism to continue to rise as it is now to sign it too - it only takes about ninety seconds.

http://epetitions.direct.gov.uk/petitions/1617

Thursday, 15 September 2011

A bid to reclaim the word "tolerance".

I've been hearing a lot recently about atheists wanting "tolerance" from believers, both from the atheists who're requesting it and from believers who are granting or denying it.

Now, this pisses me off.  "Tolerance" in this sense may be defined in loose terms as "the ability and/or willingness to endure and/or accept something unpleasant or disliked". So let's look at this more closely. What precisely is there about atheism that warrants or requires "tolerance"? What is it about atheists that is so unpleasant or disagreeable that we ourselves are effectively saying mea culpa by respectfully asking people to put up with us, unlovely and nasty as we are?!

This misuse of the word "tolerance" in relation to atheists is by no means unique to us; long before the rise of the New Atheists (go team!) we were being told that we should "tolerate" - among others - black people and gay people. Now, I find the term just as offensive towards black people and gay people as it is to me as an atheist; what the hell is there about being black or being gay that requires "tolerance" from anyone?!  What aspect of being black is so offensive that we must exercise "tolerance" towards black people?! And how precisely do the private activities of two consenting adults (of any damn gender!) affect you in such a way that you must flare your nostrils, fold your arms and benevolently agree not to be offended by them?!  It's the most condescending attitude imaginable!  Someone being black does not affect you in any way. Someone being gay does not affect you in any way. And my being an atheist does not affect you in any way... except, apparently, that you don't like me being different from you. Well you know what?  I'm doing absolutely nothing wrong by being an atheist - in fact there are many sound arguments for my being morally better than you as a believer - and I'm not going to be grateful to you for putting up with my existence.

There are many instances in which the use of the word "tolerance" IS appropriate - for example:

We tolerate Islam despite the fact that some Muslims blow up buildings, mutilate women and commit genocide in the name of Islam, because most Muslims are good people.

We tolerate Christianity despite the fact that some Christians shoot doctors, persecute gay people, and actively promote the spread of HIV/Aids in the world's poorest countries, because most Christians are good people.

We tolerate atheism despite the fact that some atheists...

... well, what? Talk about it? Publish books and blogs? Gather to form humanist groups? Take the piss out of believers? Again, what precisely is it that we do that needs to be "tolerated"?

I would like to see the word "tolerance" dropped in relation to atheism, because it's an admission of guilt or wrong-doing that simply isn't there.