Believing Bullshit: How Not to Get Sucked into an Intellectual Black Hole (27 page)

Today's post-Enlightenment, secular culture is wonderful in that it offers new movements such as our own a voice in the marketplace of ideas. It thus gives us a chance to enslave the minds of the unwitting. But, at the same time, it puts pressure on us to sign up to certain liberal ideals that are, in truth, a great obstacle to our mission—ideals such as that people should be encouraged to
think and question
, should make their
own
judgements, should
not
to be heavily psychologically manipulated as children, and so on. Which is why we have to pretend that we want only to give young people an “opportunity to explore their spiritual side” and other such nonsense.

Mindless followers are, I repeat,
not
what the schools of the mainstream religions usually aim for (though some do). They aim merely to till the soil and sow the seeds of faith, seeds that they hope may one day bloom.

Here's the
real
secret, Woodworm—gain access to the mind of a child, and you can apply
the anaesthetic of familiarity
, enough to last a lifetime. To a child, the barmy doesn't seem barmy. Get the child to feel that our beliefs are actually perfectly natural and sensible and then, when the child grows up, the harsh, barmy edges of doctrine will no longer stand out like a sore thumb. Our thoughts will seem comfortably familiar, particularly if they have been endlessly associated with powerful emotional experiences and rites of passage—weddings, funerals, bar mitzvahs, and so on. For such an adult, ludicrous beliefs no longer seem particularly ludicrous. In fact, such beliefs can feel like “coming home.”

But I digress, Woodworm. Our own schools remain a fantasy for the time being. I mention them only to flag up a further advantage the mainstream religions have over us on the emotional front. Their schools may not churn out true believers. But they do produce minds that have at least been tilled and prepared, that are at least not entirely unreceptive to their doctrines. Indeed, their belief systems have in many cases successfully been woven into the fabric of the societies they occupy. To nonbelievers raised in such a society, accepting even a ludicrous set of beliefs can seem remarkably “natural.”

The harsh edges of our nuttiest doctrines, by contrast, would be blindingly obvious to our patients to begin with, were we to reveal them—which is why you must keep them under wraps for the time being. Our patient is not yet ready. The emotional soil must first be tilled.

But it's not all bad news, Woodworm. We do have at least some advantages over many of our competitors. Remember that, unlike that of the mainstream religions, our own teaching will seem alien and exciting. While we lack the advantage of our patients having been previously anaesthetized to the utter barminess of what we teach, we do at least have the advantage that our doctrines, presented in the right way, can seem exotic and new.

So let's proceed slowly with your patient. Don't reveal too much. Otherwise the frankly ridiculous character of some of the beliefs we peddle will be detected and she'll be off. But we
do
want to convey a sense of the exciting and exotic.

Here's what I suggest. Randomly drop feel-good words like “peace,” “contentment,” “spiritual,” and “moral,” into your conversation rather more often than might be expected. Keep working on exuding that sense of inner strength and certainty that you have been faking so effectively. Radiate warmth. Touch her sleeve. Find some excuse to mention, seemingly only in passing, that you meditate. For goodness sake don't use the word “pray”—that's far too familiar and fuddy-duddy. “Meditate” will sound far more exotic, far more
mystical
, to her naive ears.

We want her to sense that there's something exhilaratingly
different
hidden away inside you—that provides you with a source of inner strength and contentment. Something that, perhaps, she could have too.

The questions will come….

Your affectionate aunt,
Agatha Tapescrew

The Bodgers Centre
Newcastle
August 23, 2008

My Dear Woodworm,

Yes, as you say, she is hooked. She has heard you speak the name of our movement, and she has not flinched. Most importantly, she has agreed to accompany you to the Retreat to “explore her spiritual side.” Fear not—our people at the Retreat know what they are doing.

The key, of course, is to produce a feeling. I once saw a bishop engaged in a debate on whether Jesus was “the way, the truth and the life.” The bishop, along with a Christian philosopher, was up against a couple of atheists. The atheists were clearly getting the better of the argument, and many of the Christians in the audience were beginning to look uncomfortable. In one or two cases, doubt was creeping in. You could see it in their eyes.

The bishop, as last to speak, was masterful. He forgot about reason and argument and all the trappings of “winning” by intellectual means. He lowered his voice and appealed instead to personal experience—an experience relating to what he called “the meaning of life.”

I've seen this done before, but the bishop was particularly good at it. He started with jokes, but then gradually began to speak more softly and with feeling. In our quietest moments, he said, each one of us—yes, even a cynical atheist—is aware, deep down, of a light. It's an awareness of something fundamentally good, of a yearning to be something better than we are. This something is …

…
Jesus
!

There was much sombre nodding from the Christian Union contingent. I noticed their eyes were now strangely lit up. When the bishop sat down, there was moment of quiet, reflective calm before the applause broke out.

Now, at the time, I made the dreadful mistake of thinking that the bishop had lost the debate. The arguments had all gone against him. Only much later did I realize that the bishop had won—spectacularly so, in fact. The truth is that the bishop was not out looking for new recruits that day. His real aim was to shore up the faith of waverers—to ensure that the application of reason didn't result in the raising of significant doubt. And in that he succeeded.

How? By invoking a
feeling.
It all begins with a feeling. No one really comes to sincere belief in religious doctrines on the basis of an argument. They come because of how they feel deep down inside.

Different cults rely on different feelings. Some focus on anger and resentment, others on feelings of helplessness, insignificance, or submission. But more often than not, the feelings that really do the trick are hope and, most importantly, joy.

The bishop reminded his Christian brethren of a feeling. It didn't really matter what it was. It could be a sense of loss or disappointment. Of a “hole” in their life. A sense of justice, or injustice. It might even be something as tacky and sentimental as “the strength to carry on” that Mariah Carey sings about in the song “Hero.”

Of course, the Muslims and Jews in the audience had such feelings too. But when
they
looked deep inside,
they
found Allah, or Yahweh or whatever. And the atheists, puzzled, could find nothing more than a feeling. I could see them sitting there, scratching their heads, wondering what on earth the bishop was on about.

But of course the bishop wasn't interested in
them.
His concern was with only the Christians in the audience. The bishop spoke softly and with sincerity and conjured up a feeling—and then reminded the assembled Christians of what
they
already knew in their hearts—that this inner light is Jesus. And why did this work? Because calling such feelings “Jesus” is such a familiar part of their cultural landscape. They have so often felt such feelings and had it suggested to them that they are experiencing Jesus, that, when they have such a feeling right now, well, that's
just how it seems to them. They
know
it's Jesus. They can just
see
him there, deep down at the bottom of their soul, glimmering. Nothing could be more obvious to them.

That, my boy, is how the bishop won. At the Retreat, your patient will be isolated and disorientated. Her mind will be messed with. She will be taught a little about Glub. But, much more importantly, we will ensure that she has
feelings.
The fasting, music, chanting, incense, meditation, ritual, the sense of community, of belonging, of that special, felt connection with others that is so rare nowadays—all these things will combine to produce powerful and unusual feelings in her, particularly feelings of
hope
, and above all,
joy.
Then, when she is deep in a reverie of such emotion, you will take our patient by the hand, look deep into her eyes and say, in a calm, steady voice, “My dear, in your quietest moments you're aware of something, aren't you? You might try to deny it, but you know there's something down there, at the bottom of your soul, don't you? It's a light, isn't it? A small, still light. Can you see it there, glimmering, like the evening star? Look closer…. Closer still … See …? Can you see what it is yet …?

It's
Glub
, isn't it?”

And as she looks more and more closely, the recognition will finally break over her: “Oh, my gosh! Yes … yes…. it
really is Glub!
”

Once she knows through personal experience the truth and reality of Glub, she will very probably be ours forever. No mere
argument
will ever be able to loosen our grip on her. For whenever any such intellectual threat pops up, we need only gently remind her of what she already
knows
deep in her heart! When critics present her with rational challenges to her belief, she will quietly and confidently reply with the words of Blaise Pascal: “The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing.”

Of course, I am simplifying. The recipe we cook up at the Retreat is a complex and heady brew into which is mixed many other important ingredients.

For example, the patient will be shown the good works our Followers do—the compassion they exhibit, helping out in their local community, providing food to the homeless, and so on. That will further lower her guard. “These are
good
people!” she will think. “So much
more
generous and caring than the people I have spent my life with up to now.”

And then we will repeatedly ask her the question: “But what if this teaching were
true?
How
wonderful
would that be! What a prospect! And you have
nothing to lose
, do you? So
why not
make the bet? Why not at least
give it a try?
Go on,
take the plunge!
”

Chances are, she will take the plunge, particularly if she's surrounded by others whom she sees joyously jumping in. Who wants to be the sad, solitary frump standing at the poolside when everyone else is in there splashing about in delight? She'll jump. And then we're in!

But as, I say, it is above all the cultivation of the
feeling
that we must focus on. Without the feeling, she may only take a quick dip. What we require is a lifetime's immersion.

Your affectionate aunt,
Tapescrew

The Bodgers Centre
Newcastle
October 4, 2008

My Dear Woodworm,

Everything appears to be going swimmingly. The Retreat has worked its magic. Your patient has a new circle of friends and is becoming immersed in the new, structured lifestyle that we had created for her—the endless round of meditation classes, talks, socials, and so on.

As we planned, the patient believes she is finding value, meaning, and purpose within the social, intellectual, and moral framework into which she has now firmly been plugged. She has entered what must seem to her to be an enchanted garden. Of course, the enchantment will eventually wear off somewhat. She will begin to see that it's not
all
wonderful inside this cosy world we have created for her. Which is why we must now begin to cultivate another emotion:
fear.
Even if she comes to see that not everything inside the garden is entirely rosy, she must learn to fear what lies outside its walls. She must eventually become so emotionally dependent upon our garden that the prospect of leaving it must appear to her to be a truly terrible thing. While joy may be what brings them in, it is often fear that keeps them here. Our patient must feel that to leave would be to fall from the light back into darkness—into the cold, lonely, meaningless oblivion from which we have rescued her.

But now to a more specific concern of mine. You write in your last letter of how you have been
reasoning
with the patient, thereby convincing her of the truth of some of our doctrines. Well, you are a gifted and able thinker. I don't doubt that this naive doob, entirely untrained in philosophy and the dark arts of persuasion, is putty in your hands. But you are making a terrible mistake if you place too much emphasis there.

Don't misunderstand me. Yes, it is desirable that she believes reason is largely
consistent
with our doctrines, perhaps even supports
our doctrines to
some
extent. But don't go beyond that. For then she may end up supposing our doctrines
rely
on reason for their acceptability.

Which, reading between the lines, seems to be precisely what you have been suggesting to her, you fool. Once she believes that it's
only
reasonable to believe such things because they
are
reasonable, well, then we are in big trouble. The next time some smart aleck doob comes along able to pick apart these dainty confections of intellectual bullshit you have been serving up to her, her faith will crumble in a minute!

You have been teaching her
unqualified respect for reason.
That is
not
the right attitude to instil. A better attitude is fear. She should
fear
applying reason, particularly on her own, unsupervised by an appropriate authority such as yourself who can set her back on track should she err. At the very least, she should made to feel uncomfortable or guilty about “going it alone” with reason.