I have a question for you all.
One of the characters in my fantasy trilogy is a woman highly skilled in the arts of combat (in the European tradition; no "Trinity"s here). Her particular expertise is the longbow, but she can fight with sword and knife as well as most of the men of her race (who are themselves much stronger than ordinary men). She is no Eowyn or Brunhilde, however, but a very feminine character without any death wishes or bloodthirstiness. Nevertheless--because I am a man--I face some inevitable limitations exploring the ramifications of femininity in a physically powerful woman who is one of the few strong and skilled enough to defend a land torn by widespread war and harried by numerous enemies.
I have posted on this subject in a forum specific to the books themselves, but I would like to ask here about the general principle (though I seek advice mainly for this particular character). The Bible clearly defends self-defense and even tactical involvement in war on the part of women: Jael lures Sisera into her tent (promising him that he need fear not) and drives a tent spike through his head, a bloody affair that must have taken considerable nerve to execute; and Rahab lies through her teeth to keep the Israelite spies safe, an ancient version of modern techniques like radar-jamming, fake radio messages and dummy minefields. C.S. Lewis seems to find a rear-line supportive role acceptable (Lucy and Susan both ply their bows at various points in the Chronicles of Narnia, Lucy at least on the field of battle itself in The Horse and His Boy). Now, none of these sources support front-line combat for women, and neither do I. My character is not a soldier, professional or volunteer, and she does not accompany the men in the front lines. She does defend her city (actively) from attack, and when an important character is placed in serious danger she does not hesitate to join the small band of friends that sets out to rescue that character (and fight unrelentingly to defend herself and others in the process).
Still, I would appreciate the input of others on this issue. I want this character to reflect true femininity, since one of the major purposes of my trilogy is to have my chief characters represent, at least in the long run, characteristics that I believe to be ideal. I want my "ideal characteristics" to conform to the Bible, of course, whence all ideals arise. So, any of you, but especially ladies: how can one be feminine in a war? If a woman possesses the strength to fight, to what extent and in what circumstances ought she to engage in combat? What is the proper ratio between leaving the fighting to the men and doing one's share? Is making a woman so strong and well-trained in combat a negation of femininity of itself in the first place? Go for it. I shan't get rid of the character (I enjoy writing about her too much for that, and she's quite integral to the story), but as I go through the editing process I would value your advice.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Paolini's Empricism
The publication of Eldest, the second book in Christopher Paolini's Inheritance Trilogy, is (at least as far as the popular fantasy genre goes) somewhat of a thing of the past, but I felt moved to post about a particularly odious two and-a-half pages of parroted mantra couched within this massive, middle-man epic. These books are fairly influential among teenagers, and Paolini emerges as a debtor to (and self-confessed reader of) the insidious Phillip Pullman--leading children astray with a hash of skeptical and empiricist dogma. If logic were a more common subject, his arguments would be irrelevant, but it is unfortunately more than likely that some teens will consider (or have considered) this passage to be a powerful argument against the existence of God.
A little background, for those who have not read the book. Eragon, the protagonist, began as a farm boy in an out-of-the-way village in the midst of a large, pseudo-medieval kingdom. After a series of events hurl him unwillingly into the political and martial imbroglio for the rescue of his land from its evil overlord, he proceeds to discover that he is first in a next generation of Dragon-Riders, the warrior chaps who protect mankind and rule in justice and so on. In the second book he is now undergoing training by an elf named Oromis, a sort of fantasy Dahli Lama who preaches peace and attunement to nature. The part about which I intend to speak arises after Eragon questions Oromis concerning the religion of the Elves. Oromis replies,
"'We do not worship at all.'"
Now hold it right there. Before we continue, let us examine whether this statement is possible. A little logic will swiftly reveal that it is self-contradictory. It is an often humorous fact that human beings cannot avoid worshipping something, and often it is those who repudiate worship with the most vitriol who are found to be slavishly devoted to a particular mantra. This is, in fact, exactly what the elves do. They worship reason. They worship 'logic' and empiricism. Of this more further on.
After a sneering paragraph clearly intended to lump Christians together with believers in naive superstition, Oromis goes on to say,
"'...I cannot prove that gods do not exist....But I can tell you that in the millennia we elves have studied nature, we have never witnessed an instance where the rules that govern the world have been broken. That is, we have never seen a miracle."
There is more manifest naivete in this argument. Of course, this world is of Paolini's own invention and he can certainly create one in which the rules of nature are never broken, as they have been on earth from time to time (e.g., the stopping of the sun, the collapse of the walls of Jericho, the Plagues of Egypt, the resurrection of Christ, etc.). Nevertheless, to say that the simple observance of the unbroken laws of nature is a powerful argument against the existence of divine power (or at least reason enough to produce untouchable skepticism on the issue) is a logical nightmare. Oromis--and through him, Paolini--seem to think that nature and a divine power are both immortal and co-existent things. This of itself contradicts all Biblical teaching, at which Paolini is obviously jabbing. It never seems to enter his mind that God may have created a world with an actual beginning, with rules that He generally enforces. He seems to think that God (or a god or gods) must meddle with nature in order to produce any kind of result. I cannot think of any conceivable reason as to why a truly rational being would embrace this argument as a triumphant blow to the existence of God. It's like a man finding an internal combustion engine and presuming that, because it always burned petroleum to power a drive shaft by means of cylinders, no matter how often he observed it, it must have existed there for all time and had no maker.
But we aren't nearly done yet. Paolini thinks he has yerked Christianity another thrust beneath the ribs with the Problem of Evil:
"'If gods exist, have they been good custodians of Alagaesia? Death, sickness, poverty, tyranny, and countless other miseries stalk the land. If this is the handiwork of divine beings, then they are to be rebelled against and overthrown, not given obeisance, obedience, and reverence.'"
Before anything else, this statement reveals monstrous pride and rebellion. It should hardly be very surprising, and this is in fact a fairly cogent expression of the thoughts and words rebellious men have flung at the Almighty since the Curse. Oromis also seems to feel confident in his ability to overthrow a divine being. But really, if this bleak outlook on divinity were true, would it not rather be cause for despair? If God is actually a sadistic monster, why then, sit and await your doom. If God does not exist, then you are on your own in a Darwinian wasteland, and what comfort is that?
Paolini also fails to take into account all the philosophers who have trounced the objections of the Problem of Evil. This is old news, and need not trouble the Christian at all. It never seems to enter Paolini's mind that God (or a god, in his world) might allow evil and suffering to demonstrate His glory.
One last quote. Eragon voices his last, faltering, straw-man objection to Oromis' laughably serious precis of his religion--er, belief-system--I mean, set of objective realities! I guess he'd take offense if I called it what it is.
"' It seems a cold world without something...more'" (ellipsis marks Paolini's).
"'On the contrary. It is a better world. A place where we are responsible for our own actions, where we can be kind to one another because we want to and because it is the right thing to do instead of being frightened into behaving by the threat of divine punishment. I won't tell you what to believe, Eragon. It is far better to be taught to think critically than to have someone else's notions thrust upon you.'"
This, again, is as smug and self-assured a paragraph as I have said, and comes across as coolly dismissive. It is also perhaps the easiest to refute. First of all, to say that a man (or elf) is responsible for his own actions is clearly holding him to a standard--but what standard? Reason? That will not suffice. Reason does not tell us that we are responsible for our actions. In fact, in a materialistic world, the first thought that would enter the mind of a thinking man is that he is answerable to himself alone. He need respond to no one and give an account of what he did and why. After all, he and his fellow humans are all that there is.
Then take this statement--"Where we can be kind to each other because he want to and because it is the right thing to do instead of being frightened into behaving by the threat of divine punishment." But this is silly. Men do not want to be kind to each other; they want others to be kind to them. Anger is easy. Patience and kindness are difficult, and we humans love the easy road. Also, the sentence is contradictory. It sets up human will as the arbiter (and read The Abolition of Man to see where that leads), and then promptly follows it with another standard-setter, "the right thing to do." The right thing according to whom, or to what? The right thing because we want it? But we do not all want the same thing, nor can we say with any confidence that something is intrinsically right because we desire it. In fact, all that we can say about such things is that we desire them, if we have no other references on which to base our judgments.
There, I am done. It is actually quite sad to read this and see how Paolini skips around on the edge of the brink and tries to convince himself that his view makes sense. It is so easy to lapse into despair, since despair is really all that there is after all the chimeras are dispersed from this kind of view. The fact is, man has a designer, and because of this he wants one--longs for one. And when he tries to pretend one doesn't exist, all he gets is madness and chaos. I hope all the young, impressionable, confused teenagers who read these books for their exciting plots realize the same thing. Because these words will imprint themselves on their minds, and stay with them when they grow up.
~Connor
A little background, for those who have not read the book. Eragon, the protagonist, began as a farm boy in an out-of-the-way village in the midst of a large, pseudo-medieval kingdom. After a series of events hurl him unwillingly into the political and martial imbroglio for the rescue of his land from its evil overlord, he proceeds to discover that he is first in a next generation of Dragon-Riders, the warrior chaps who protect mankind and rule in justice and so on. In the second book he is now undergoing training by an elf named Oromis, a sort of fantasy Dahli Lama who preaches peace and attunement to nature. The part about which I intend to speak arises after Eragon questions Oromis concerning the religion of the Elves. Oromis replies,
"'We do not worship at all.'"
Now hold it right there. Before we continue, let us examine whether this statement is possible. A little logic will swiftly reveal that it is self-contradictory. It is an often humorous fact that human beings cannot avoid worshipping something, and often it is those who repudiate worship with the most vitriol who are found to be slavishly devoted to a particular mantra. This is, in fact, exactly what the elves do. They worship reason. They worship 'logic' and empiricism. Of this more further on.
After a sneering paragraph clearly intended to lump Christians together with believers in naive superstition, Oromis goes on to say,
"'...I cannot prove that gods do not exist....But I can tell you that in the millennia we elves have studied nature, we have never witnessed an instance where the rules that govern the world have been broken. That is, we have never seen a miracle."
There is more manifest naivete in this argument. Of course, this world is of Paolini's own invention and he can certainly create one in which the rules of nature are never broken, as they have been on earth from time to time (e.g., the stopping of the sun, the collapse of the walls of Jericho, the Plagues of Egypt, the resurrection of Christ, etc.). Nevertheless, to say that the simple observance of the unbroken laws of nature is a powerful argument against the existence of divine power (or at least reason enough to produce untouchable skepticism on the issue) is a logical nightmare. Oromis--and through him, Paolini--seem to think that nature and a divine power are both immortal and co-existent things. This of itself contradicts all Biblical teaching, at which Paolini is obviously jabbing. It never seems to enter his mind that God may have created a world with an actual beginning, with rules that He generally enforces. He seems to think that God (or a god or gods) must meddle with nature in order to produce any kind of result. I cannot think of any conceivable reason as to why a truly rational being would embrace this argument as a triumphant blow to the existence of God. It's like a man finding an internal combustion engine and presuming that, because it always burned petroleum to power a drive shaft by means of cylinders, no matter how often he observed it, it must have existed there for all time and had no maker.
But we aren't nearly done yet. Paolini thinks he has yerked Christianity another thrust beneath the ribs with the Problem of Evil:
"'If gods exist, have they been good custodians of Alagaesia? Death, sickness, poverty, tyranny, and countless other miseries stalk the land. If this is the handiwork of divine beings, then they are to be rebelled against and overthrown, not given obeisance, obedience, and reverence.'"
Before anything else, this statement reveals monstrous pride and rebellion. It should hardly be very surprising, and this is in fact a fairly cogent expression of the thoughts and words rebellious men have flung at the Almighty since the Curse. Oromis also seems to feel confident in his ability to overthrow a divine being. But really, if this bleak outlook on divinity were true, would it not rather be cause for despair? If God is actually a sadistic monster, why then, sit and await your doom. If God does not exist, then you are on your own in a Darwinian wasteland, and what comfort is that?
Paolini also fails to take into account all the philosophers who have trounced the objections of the Problem of Evil. This is old news, and need not trouble the Christian at all. It never seems to enter Paolini's mind that God (or a god, in his world) might allow evil and suffering to demonstrate His glory.
One last quote. Eragon voices his last, faltering, straw-man objection to Oromis' laughably serious precis of his religion--er, belief-system--I mean, set of objective realities! I guess he'd take offense if I called it what it is.
"' It seems a cold world without something...more'" (ellipsis marks Paolini's).
"'On the contrary. It is a better world. A place where we are responsible for our own actions, where we can be kind to one another because we want to and because it is the right thing to do instead of being frightened into behaving by the threat of divine punishment. I won't tell you what to believe, Eragon. It is far better to be taught to think critically than to have someone else's notions thrust upon you.'"
This, again, is as smug and self-assured a paragraph as I have said, and comes across as coolly dismissive. It is also perhaps the easiest to refute. First of all, to say that a man (or elf) is responsible for his own actions is clearly holding him to a standard--but what standard? Reason? That will not suffice. Reason does not tell us that we are responsible for our actions. In fact, in a materialistic world, the first thought that would enter the mind of a thinking man is that he is answerable to himself alone. He need respond to no one and give an account of what he did and why. After all, he and his fellow humans are all that there is.
Then take this statement--"Where we can be kind to each other because he want to and because it is the right thing to do instead of being frightened into behaving by the threat of divine punishment." But this is silly. Men do not want to be kind to each other; they want others to be kind to them. Anger is easy. Patience and kindness are difficult, and we humans love the easy road. Also, the sentence is contradictory. It sets up human will as the arbiter (and read The Abolition of Man to see where that leads), and then promptly follows it with another standard-setter, "the right thing to do." The right thing according to whom, or to what? The right thing because we want it? But we do not all want the same thing, nor can we say with any confidence that something is intrinsically right because we desire it. In fact, all that we can say about such things is that we desire them, if we have no other references on which to base our judgments.
There, I am done. It is actually quite sad to read this and see how Paolini skips around on the edge of the brink and tries to convince himself that his view makes sense. It is so easy to lapse into despair, since despair is really all that there is after all the chimeras are dispersed from this kind of view. The fact is, man has a designer, and because of this he wants one--longs for one. And when he tries to pretend one doesn't exist, all he gets is madness and chaos. I hope all the young, impressionable, confused teenagers who read these books for their exciting plots realize the same thing. Because these words will imprint themselves on their minds, and stay with them when they grow up.
~Connor
Friday, January 12, 2007
Plantinga on Dawkins
Here is another page from the same site (The Pearcey Report): an excellent review of Richard Dawkins' The God Delusion by Alvin Plantinga.
I am currently writing a post of my own, but I encourage to read these articles in the mean time. They're good.
I am currently writing a post of my own, but I encourage to read these articles in the mean time. They're good.
Stossel on Minimum Wage
Conservative columnist John Stossel has written a very good article on the fundamental problems with minimum wage laws here.
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