A Modest Construct | Christopher Hitchens

Posts tagged `Christopher Hitchens`

¶ God Is Not Great

God Is Not Great by Christopher Hitchens: Publisher: Twelve Books, Hachette Book Group; Year: 2007; Pages: 307

Continuing a long and somewhat tawdry literary affair with the much-loved and oft-maligned Christopher Hitchens, I am reading his latest, God Is Not Great. This is his first book that deals with his rather public denunciation of religion, though to faithful readers of his other books, his articles, or his interviews, it’s no surprise at all. In a manner much to the consternation of the political conservatives who gleefully forward his scathing review of Michael Moore’s Fahrenheit 9/11, Christopher Hitchens is a dyed-in-the-wool atheist, lumped together with Richard Dawkins, Daniel Dennett, and Sam Harris as the new breed of intellectual disbelief (so-called the Four Horsemen, either with affection or opprobrium, depending on with whom you’re speaking).

What may be said almost without reservation about Christopher Hitchens is that he is the most eloquent and compelling writer of his little group. While Richard Dawkins may have made a name for himself in the mainstream by his well-written and comprehensible accounts of science, and likewise Daniel Dennett has a long history of successful philosophical tracts (Sam Harris being the relative newcomer); Hitchens, however, is a veteran journalist, essayist, literary critic, and his breadth of knowledge, grasp of language, and staunch support for liberty of any and all sorts makes him a powerful intellectual force.

Some or much of God Is Not Great is historical in nature; he references, at length, the noted historians Karen Armstrong and Bart Ehrman, among others, to make historical criticisms of the three major monotheisms and their inherent schisms. Dubiously, Hitchens seems to insists that the person of Jesus is far from a historical truth, though in fact I think Dr. Ehrman himself would disagree with the conclusion, depending of course on how you define the person of Jesus. Some history is more recent: in dealing with the common misconception that disbelief somehow begets violence, intolerance, and lawlessness, Hitchens debunks more recent examples (Stalin, Hitler, & al.) and in doing so notes some of the more reprehensible actions of the Catholic church, even in the last century.

Remarkable, I think, about Hitchens’ book is that, unlike Dawkins, at least—who while generally civil, made few concessions—Hitchens reveals that he has tremendous respect for religious intellectuals, and for the generous intellectual, literary, and scientific achievements many of them have left for posterity. Evelyn Waugh comes to mind immediately: though Waugh was a staunch Catholic, and by extension a supporter of the Vatican-supported fascist regimes in Italy and Spain, for instance, Hitchens dearly loves and respects the literary canon that the man left us. In this way that Hitchen’s book, however uncompromising, feels less like a screed and more like a tract in the grand tradition of those he so dearly admires—Hume, for instance, and Socrates and Paine. Some old canards, such as Anselm’s ontological argument, and Paley’s argument from design, Hitchens dismisses outright with the same easy answers as most other disbelievers.

It is interesting to note that Hitchens’ book, while arguablky the most overtly intellectual and steadily uncompromising, also feels the least condescending and the most pluralistic. He says, in one moment, that he doesn’t really care what you do or believe so long as you stop trying to convert him and it is this ultimate conceit of religion—that it cannot for a moment respect the right of another to live without obligation to a particular moral/cosmological/ritual code—that is its greatest fault and that which has led to the most of the suffering commonly attributed to religion.

Some memes are held in common with other noted atheist/agnostic writers, which is only to be expected. The notion of a child being of the faith of his parents, even before he is of the age to understand, is a notable one, as is the notion of child mutilation (think circumcision of various sorts). In fact, Hitchens devotes a whole chapter, entitled “Is Religion Child Abuse?” to the subject, which, even if you don’t ultimately think so, is deserving of some contemplation. The ritual removal of that which can never be reinstated is hardly a fair thing to do to a child for whom there is no possibility of consent and a very real possibility of regret.

In something by way of conclusion, I feel compelled to say that God Is Not Great is not a likely tool of conversion, which Hitchens hints/hopes at some point in the book; at most, it will disgust the faithful, who will likely never read more than a summary of it, and convince only the disbelievers, for whom I am disinclined to use the worn metaphor of a choir. However, God Is Not Great manages, I feel, to walk the line between a screed and a genuine criticism, which should also be good reading for the faithful; it never hurts to get a good prod every now and then.

§2013 · March 20, 2008 · 1 comment · Tags: Book Reviews, books, Christopher Hitchens, history, philosophy, religion, reviews

¶ Thomas Paine’s ‘The Rights of Man’

Thomas Paine's 'The Rights of Man' by Christopher Hitchens: Publisher: Atlantic Monthly Press; Year: 2007; Pages: 160

I continue my torrid literary affair with Christopher Hitchens with his latest short biography. He’s previously done a slim tome about Thomas Jefferson; now, he turns to famed pamphleteer Thomas Paine, beginning a theme of which Susan Jacoby would be proud.

Ostensibly a biography of Paine, one gets the feeling early on that Thomas Paine’s Rights of Man: A Biography is going to end up being itself something of a philosophical treatise, piggy-backed on the narrative framework of a biography. Hitchens begins with a sizeable introduction which is dark with just such portent. He dispatches swiftly with Paine’s childhood and young years as a sailor, and later as an oft-fired government bureaucrat (this is in his native England). His penchant for rhetorical rabble-rousing made him a few good friends (eventually with Ben Franklin) and plenty of enemies.

His exploits in America are of course his best-known: he wrote Common Sense, the most famous of several pamphlets that he authored in support of a war for American independence—and it is notable that he called explicitly for an independent American state, since there was still a sizable population that simply wanted a redress of grievances and not complete secession from their motherland. He is, perhaps, the first to use the phrase “United States of America.” He was an ardent abolitionist, and originally influenced a passage in the Declaration of Independence denouncing the slave trade, though it was excised by committee before the final revision.

But easily half of this book focuses on Paine after the American Revolution, when he returned to France to foment a revolution there. Between France and England, Paine made plenty more enemies: his efforts east of the Atlantic were not as fruitful as those west of it. The French revolution changed states more often than a transistor, and was infinitely more bloodthirsty.

Curiously, Hitchens focuses on Paine’s intellectual rival, a man by the name of Edmund Burke, an Irish author and political theorist who wholeheartedly supported the American colonists’ independence, but strong opposed the French Revolution. Burke saw the French Revolution not as the true establishment of democracy, but a violent compulsive reaction to the suddenly unpopular notion of monarchy or hereditary power, which he curiously supported in his native Britain.

The literary catfights in this period are a subject of great interest to Hitchens, for whom they are a platform to wax idealistic, as he so often does, about the nature of liberty, the vagaries of inherited v. elected power, and the effect and wisdom of religion—specifically in connection to Paine’s Age of Reason an argument for deism among other things.

Paine eventually came back to the United States, where Federalist detested him for his ideas on government, devout religionists detested him for his ideas on deism, and yet others detested him for his associated with the French Revolution. He, poor and largely unpopular, in 1809.

If you’re interested in an in-depth history of Thomas Paine’s life, Hitchen’s brief treatment might not be for you. If you would merely like to know about Paine, and his influence, then you might appreciate what Hitchens has to say: it’s a good primer on Paine and his legacy.

§1965 · January 30, 2008 · 1 comment · Tags: Book Reviews, books, Christopher Hitchens, literature, memes, politics, reviews

¶ Shakespeare: The World as Stage

Shakespeare: The World as Stage by Bill Bryson: Publisher: Harper Collins; Year: 2007; Pages: 208

Let me first say, in the interest of full disclosure, that I am absolutely crazy about Bill Bryson. Really, the man can do no wrong. I think perhaps the worst thing I’ve ever said about his books is that his very first one was kind of dry. I therefore look forward to each new Bryson release with a fervor most people save for Harry Potter.

Shakespeare: The World As Stage is a short book, written as a (sort-of) one off project for Bryson. The book is one in a series of brief biographies. Luckily, it’s not as short Bryson’s African Diary, but I was disappointed nonetheless, not by the quality of the book, but by my selfish desire for an endless amount of Bryson’s prose.

Bryson does manage to pack his 200 pages with excellent material, however. Writing a biography about Shakespeare is a difficult process, because despite being one of the most revered authors in the English language, he is shrouded in mystery, his legacy built by a canon of plays and poetry and piecemeal legal documents and snippets of text. If you were to play a drinking game wherein you did a shot every time Bryson uses phrases like “We can’t know for certain” or “It’s impossible to know,” you’d be comatose by the end of the book. Yet, as Bryson points out early on, we know more about Shakespeare than any other English playwright of that era. Much like I thirst for new Bryson material, so society at large thirsts for information about this demigod of Elizabethan/Jacobean drama.

Given the relative paucity of direct historical data about Shakespeare, much of Bryson’s biography is told with context: he talks about the era, and the places where Shakespeare would have likely been. He talks about the vagaries of playwriting and performance; he talks about Shakespeare’s father John, and Shakespeare’s various and sundry relatives. He also talks about what others of the time had to say about Shakespeare. He even, ironically enough, transmits a great deal of information about the lack of information about Shakespeare.

Finally, and with great gusto, Bryson deals with the conspiracy theorists: those that think Francis Bacon is Shakespeare, or that Ben Jonson is Shakespeare. Or that a slew of different people are Shakespeare. The author comes down hard on the conservative side, insisting that despite the many holes in our history of Shakespeare, there’s no convincing evidence for most of the marginal theories about his life. The truth is simply that Shakespeare was an exceptional writer that left us very little about himself.

Bryson does all this without fawning or obseqious language; he manages his trademark blend of anecdote and information. Like every other Bryson book, this one is fantastic and you’re a horrible person if you don’t read it.

§1938 · December 4, 2007 · 9 comments · Tags: Bill Bryson, biography, Book Reviews, Christopher Hitchens, literature, memes, reviews

¶ The God Delusion

The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins: Publisher: Houghton Mifflin; Year: 2006; Pages: 406

Few people, with the notable exception of perhaps Christopher Hitchens (who is perhaps better known as a warhawk than an atheist), are as outspokenly critical of religion as Oxford biologist Richard Dawkins. The God Delusion represents his first effort at a book whose entire text is (ostensibly) an attack of religion—his previous works, such as The Ancestor’s Tale have been mostly scientific works about evolutionary processes or mimetics.

Having heard Dawkins in various other contexts—a few interviews, some previous books, &c.—much of the book wasn’t new to me. Almost as if the entire religious debate writ small, The God Delusion contains its fair share of recycled material and careworn phrases. Which is not to say that Dawkins isn’t an excellent writer—indeed, his slew of successful books is what pushed him into prominence—and that he isn’t very thorough in his attack of religion.

There were a few portions in particular that stood out to me, and which I found particularly interesting. The first was a lengthy chapter about mimetics: mimetics, or the sort of “evolutionary” passing of “memes” (units of cultural information). I find this kind of social science fascinating, because what we’re talking about here is how culture is passed on generationally. I think even religionists would agree with most of the tenets here, even if their noses would crinkle at some of the terminology that Dawkins uses. Dawkin’s question is Assuming no supernatural impetus for its longevity, why is religion such a healthy and persistent meme?. He reasons that the answer must either be that religion does cultural good or that it’s caused by a “mis-firing” of other impulses. His eventual conclusion is—grudgingly—a mixture of both. But I am now inspired to go find some other works on mimetics.

The other particularly poignant section, and apparently Dawkin’s pet peeve, is the way in which young children are immediately labeled with the religion of their parents, as though the largely arbitrary matter of a progenitor’s religion was somehow congential. 5-year-olds can be “Christian children” or “Muslim children” or “Buddhist children,” and yet you would never heard children referred to as “Marxist children,” “Contractarian children,” or “Anti-establishment anarchist children.” Given my vehement stance for intellectual liberty, this seems to me a rather good point. Kids are too young to know any better: parents obviously think that they are doing their kids a favor, but are they really? Personally, I think this sort of nonsense only increases sectarian tension.

The God Delusion had some good points, but overall I must admit that it didn’t blow me away by any stretch of the imagination. But a solid Dawkins work, to be sure, with a few high points that make it worth recommending.

§1888 · August 23, 2007 · 8 comments · Tags: Book Reviews, books, Christopher Hitchens, religion, reviews, science

¶ Hanging Babylon: Functionalist policy and the war in Iraq

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Several weeks ago, the War in Iraq entered its fourth year—despite the official “end of major combat” that the codpiece-sporting President announced mere months after it began—and the steady sectarian violence pursuant to the toppling of Saddam Hussein’s Baath Party shows no encouraging signs of abatement. It has been a busy four years, with opponents of the war criticizing its planners for the endless stream of seemingly empty motivations, the President and his closest associates maintaining the need to finish stabilizing the region, regardless of cost, and a growing swell of political moderates noting the sour taste that the whole affair has left in their mouths. To a reader in 2007, it seems silly—almost masochistic—to read accounts like Anne Garrels’ Naked in Baghdad: the book chronicles the NPR correspondent’s time in Iraq from just before to less than a month after the United States’ invasion, and its message seems congruent with the cries that have been heard since 2003, the truth falling somewhere in between the most stringent rhetoric from either ideological side. This is old news—no pun intended.

Garrels’ fragmented narrative does not coalesce into an overarching parable about preemptive war or the human cost of conflict, nor does it fall prey to maudlin sympathies. The most important “string”—to borrow one of Garrels’ own metaphors—to be found in the story of Iraq’s fall is the similarities to the ailing Soviet Union in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Not only is Russian language and influence pervasive in the Middle East—Garrels notes this, citing the Soviet Union’s own intrusions into the region during the 20th century—but the parallels between Saddam Hussein and some of the former U.S.S.R.’s less illustrious leaders, and between the two countries’ essential dissolution into chaos and mob rule during regime change, is a pressing allusion.