Utopia

Childhood. Religion. Nature. Love. Each have a magical, spiritual quality, the memories of which can haunt for a lifetime. 

The Magical Kingdom by Russell Banks, a story of early 20th-century Florida loosely based on true events, has a documentary feel. The book begins with a journalist rescuing a set of reel-to-reel tapes from the trash at a library in St. Cloud, all that is left of the life of Harley Mann. Two decades earlier, in 1971, Harley used a tape recorder to recount his unusual childhood. Lonely, old and unsettled, the narrator/protagonist warns that he is well practiced at masking his identity. “It’s as if I never learned to speak like the man I have in fact become, one of those White, lifelong, small-time Florida businessmen with no noticeable religious or political enthusiasm and no discernible class affiliation.” 

Early experiences shape Harley’s ability to conceal and lie. His parents, devotees of philosopher John Ruskin, an early environmentalist and socialist, leave a failing commune in Indiana, where Harley enjoyed an idyllic childhood, for another struggling one in Georgia. The father, a skilled blacksmith, dies of typhoid soon afterward in 1901, leaving a pregnant wife and two sets of twin boys. From his deathbed, the father urges them to find work at a nearby plantation and designates 12-year-old Harley head of the family. The mother dismisses that notion, discouraging discussions or questions about their future.

As the family can no longer contribute to the struggling commune, the mother signs all up as indentured servants at Rosewell Plantation, where they are exploited and become mired in debt. The plantation was “the opening wound in a wounded life.”  Harley felt “as if he had been cast out of Paradise to suffer and perish for having committed an unnamed sin.” He learns about power that came only from the owner’s “control of an unimaginable abundance of money and our lack of it and the terrible, almost unfathomable distance between the two.” 

Harley describes those seven months “as responsible in some way for my lifelong garrulousness and secrecy, my consanguinity and pessimism, my easy sociability and solitude – my paradoxical, conflicted nature.”  

Still, he feels intellectually and morally superior due to the teachings of John Rushkin and other philosophers, poets, and scientists. “[W]hen you’re a child you passively accept your parents’ and their friends’ view of reality, no matter how distorted by ideology or religion.” He observes seeds of inequality and discrimination. “When your worth as a human being is reduced solely to the value of your body’s capacity for labor, you tend to overvalue meaningless physical characteristics, like your body’s skin complexion, or hair texture or the shape of your nose and lips.” Other workers on the planation focus on racial differences, but Harley’s family feel only shame, “for we knew in our heart that those differences were meaningless.” Still, he also feels “different and distinct from everyone I knew and loved and from all the strangers in the world, for I was the child whose father’s dying words had made him the man of the house, separating him from the others, even from his mother, … charging him with a task he could never fulfill.”  

The desperate mother, though not religious, reaches out to a Shaker community in central Florida, near Narcoossee, whose leader agrees to pay off the family’s debt. The belief in celibacy forced Shakers to recruit followers and adopt children who could stay or leave at age 21. “We were not quite free,” Harley concedes, only free to leave the plantation and join the Shaker community of New Bethany. Like the Rushkinites, the Shakers supported communal living, simple lifestyles, pacifism and gender and racial equality and stood by the principles of honesty, continence, faith, hope, charity, innocence, meekness, humility, prudence, thankfulness, patience, simplicity – along with celibacy. The Shakers separated children from parents, assigning them mentors for apprenticeships, and taught that people on the outside world were untrustworthy, living “only for the moment… acquisitive and materialistic and hungry for power and sensual gratification.” 

Rescue by the Shakers was like Paradise restored. Harley promises himself “to find a way never to commit that unnamed sin again,” hoping that “the “Shakers would teach me how to name the sin and would show me all the ways to avoid committing it again.” He becomes judgmental, rigid, suggesting that “Anyone with a lifelong guilty conscience is likely to be a hair-splitting moralist, especially when it comes to other people’s behavior.” He insists that religion is not the source of his guilt. “It had to be my parents’ perfectionist utopian dream, the dream they shared with the hundreds of like-minded dreamers who surrounded them near and far, the dream that made me feel like a failure and weak and morally inadequate.” 

Logical and intelligent, Harley refuses to just accept explanations from others and describes how, like every thoughtful child, he loathed hypocrisy. “A child knows himself to be powerless and thus the most likely member of the community to end up deprived of justice and truth and equality.” From the start, he is skeptical about the elder’s motivation – is it charity, a means to secure free labor, or desire for his mother?

Living with the Shakers the children once again work six hours per day, six days a week, with the profit from their unpaid labor much greater than the cost of support. “I have sometimes asked myself if it was exploitative and unnatural and cruel to work children that way. Exploitative yes…. But it was not unnatural or cruel” as farming communities expect children to work such hours. And the Shakers’ assignments were “interesting and instructive and rarely as onerous or dangerous as work in a factory or mill would have been.”  The men and women who supervise apprenticeships are kind and patient, relaying skills and attitudes that “would prove useful to us for the rest of our lives.” 

His mother becomes a compliant, happy stranger, and Harley questions the sincerity of such converts: “if truth be told, the majority of these supplicants were seeking reliable shelter and regular meals rather than everlasting life. If the price was abstinence from sex and all other stimulants, communal living and participation in Shaker rituals and customs, along with hard manual labor in the fields…, they were willing to pay it.” 

Elder John Bennett selects Harley as a “favorite student, the one whose mind and heart he most wanted to influence.” He lends the boy books of the Western Canon, ones that other Shakers might have viewed as heretical, and teaches the boy how to bend those works with Shaker teachings. The man does discuss the materials or quiz him, “except with a casual, knowing reference to a specific notion or insight.”  A former soldier and prison guard, John advises Harley that “You either surrender your freedom to the system, or you walk away from it. There’s no middle ground…. That’s why and how I became a Shaker.”  Of course, such sentiment is true of any system. “His answer dazzled me both for its illusiveness and for its clarity. Elder John seemed to be saying that there was no essential difference between victim and victimizer, between the oppressed and the oppressor. That both were equally controlled by the system that created and maintained and enforced their relationship.” 

An intelligent child raised within a rigid system might long to flee, yet Harley understood that John “was grooming me to be his successor…. And I wanted to be that person.” Again, he feels superior, “that old familiar feeling had made me into a secretive hypocrite, for I could not let go of it. Separateness and difference – I had come to embrace the feeling… my true self. Despite its discomfort, I have tried since then to preserve it at all costs. Separateness and difference.” 

Such feelings lead Harley to break norms, and he falls in love with Sadie, who is seven years older. They carry on a furtive relationship, though he fears she may be doing the same with Elder John. Harley recognizes that if Sadie was so skillful at concealing her love affair with Harley from others, then she was capable of concealing secrets from him. “When one has taken up lying, as I had done, it’s natural to assume that everyone else is lying, too…. One cannot live a lie without believing that one is surrounded by liars and nothing is what it seems and no one is who he or she claims to be.” 

Jealous, he comes to distrust Elder John in every way, as profiteer and potential rival. He determines the man is not tempted by winning. “For him, life was a contest in which his main goal was to best the other contestants. Making a profit was just one way to do that. People like Elder John make good capitalists, effective salesmen, and successful politicians, but poor religious leaders.” Harley was convinced that serving God required that “One must abandon the belief that life is a contest.” Harley eventually turns on the Elder John, reporting him for an act of euthanasia. John leaves for Fort Myers takes off, taking up another religion, starting an import-export business and entering Florida politics. The rest of the commune, struggling without leaders and its two best workers, shuns Harley before abandoning the commune and relocating to a larger colony in New York. 

Harley lives off the land, taking on a few odd jobs, saving his money. Familiar with property histories throughout the county, he begins buying and selling land, while also accumulating the tracts that once belonged to the commune, a practice he had learned about after out-of-town Shaker leaders discover that Elder John profited from such purchases in fast-growing Florida. During the early part of the 20th century, banks were required to provide equity-free, low-interest loans enabling homeless war veterans to buy a five-acre plot and build a home. Such purchasers often failed to make payments, and speculators like John swooped in to buy the properties and resell for huge profits. 

But Harley targets the commune’s former holdings, refusing to sell for decades: “allowing the marshes and palmetto return, the buildings collapse, and mold and animals creep in “until there remained nothing out there of our once-glorious plantation but scattered heaps of weed-and-kudzu-covered wreckage sinking into the muck and the returning waters of the no-longer ditched- and-drained swamp.” 

Only a small portion of the book focuses on these adult activities.

Years later, regretting his lack of formal education, Harley ponders whether a different type of childhood might have led him to become a theologian or a philosopher. He becomes wealthy, though spends the rest of his life alone, an outsider without purpose. He regards himself once again as cast out of paradise – and the cause for the fall of one magic kingdom, a religious commune where he first fell in love, and the rise of another – Disneyland. Conflicted, he respects Shaker principles but does not believe. “What does it matter, anyhow, if my life remains a mystery to me. Who cares if Harley Mann dies without ever learning how or why his youthful delusions and follies are matched by those in his old age? Or why, in between, from youth to old age, he remained for all intents and purposes a Shaker without a Shaker family,” “a nonbelieving Believer, a Shaker pariah, a man in some perverse but fundamental way affirming the Shaker way of life by building his hut just beyond the closed and locked gate of New Bethany.”

Harley, failing to envision a development like Disney World, eventually sells the Shaker property with the condition that subdivision is forbidden for perpetuity.    

The story ends with Harley’s loss of innocence and community. Childhood, with all its potential, curiosity, and magic, is our only real utopia. 

Loss

With aging comes loss, and for Tom Kettle the protagonist of Old God's Time by Sebastian Barry, life is essentially over. Retired as a policeman, he lives alone. His wife and two adult children are dead. Friends are few, though on good days, he has visions old friends, acquaintances and maybe even some ghosts. 

Both he and his wife grew up with abuse from priests, notorious in Ireland’s Catholic orphanages. With his memory slipping, Kettle is an unreliable narrator both for himself and others. Pleasant memories, vague and dreamy like fog forming over the sea, are difficult to retain; negative ones prick deep and mean like sharp ice. The stories he recalls often seem incomplete, with additional circumstances and context shared later. He recalls his past with any activity, any trip: “Every single place… a peg with a memory hanging from it.” And when he returns to the city, “memories are lying in ambush everywhere.” 

Like memories, his surroundings serve as both reminders and distractions. “If he were looking for citizenship, it might be of this miraculous bay. Child of nowhere, he could claim rights over this, this vast vacancy queerly filled, both empty and full. He was just an old policeman with a buckled heart, but if he had known how, he would have sucked the whole vista into himself, every grain of salt and sand and sea, swallowed it whole… All this blue and different blue and greens and acres of blown white, and the mysterious golds and silvers of after-rain. He knew he knew he was in trouble, he could sense the trouble with his copper’s instinct and didn’t yet know its shape, but the bay also released him somehow, let him go for a blessed minute into some wild freedom, so that his heart and soul were both shaken and renewed, in the same moment, in the same breath.” 

After being away from the job, two colleagues from his station visit, claiming to need his help on an old case involving “the priests in the sixties.” Kettle, old and vulnerable, responds spontaneously: “The absolute suffering. There was no one to help me.” He immediately regrets using the word “me” rather than “them.” The old policeman cares about the child victims of the abusive priests, not quite realizing that the others regard him as suspect. 

The investigators seek his DNA, intent on resolving an old case, the murder of a priest known to both Kettle and his wife. But Kettle had long been part of a system that masked scandals, covered evidence, to protect reputations.     

Kettle varies between wanting to be useful and left alone, between companionship and solitude. Once the two leave, he misses his inquisitors: “he was stunned to discover, missed them like his own children, a huge ache of loss, which was not logical at all. They had a nice time together, despite everything, but that was all. But he felt it like a bereavement. He had enjoyed the talk. He had. A mystery. Their warmth and kindness. He wondered should he do more of it. Human contact. He wasn’t sure. It was a disturbing thought somehow, like he was betraying a secret, but whose?” Before long, he comes to realize that “He was less confused even if he was confused.” 

The old policeman knows who killed the priest, but divulges nothing without manipulation or lies. Instead, he drifts among multiple tragic memories, some of the experiences surely instigated and compounded by his family's history of abuse. That a murder of a priest could take precedence over the systemic abuse of dozens or hundreds of children, by “a murderer of children’s hearts,” is deplorable. And that may partly explain why, besides his loneliness and dementia, Kettle initially fails to realize the purpose behind the visits from investigators. 

The man could suffer no greater loss than that of his wife and children, and a sort of weightlessness accompanies such knowledge. “There was a fire of freedom in it. There was a curious wash of something freely called happiness.”

Battling the grotesque

Most readers quickly and rightly reject novels that detail abuse of animals, children or other vulnerable populations. Reading about systemic poverty and lack of opportunity – the slow neglect and breakdown of human spirit – should be equally disturbing. The Rabbit Hutch alludes to first while detailing the humiliations and weariness associated with the second. 

The debut novel by Tess Gunty explores how individuals slide into disturbing behaviors, influenced by surroundings, circumstances and other people. The setting is a dilapidated apartment building known as the Rabbit Hutch in Vacca Vale, a dying Indiana industrial town. Most occupants resent and avoid their neighbors. These include a quiet middle-aged woman who moderates comments for online obituaries and four young adults recently aged out of the foster-care system. 

The characters are flawed, insecure in this desolate environment. A visitor from Hollywood, the depressed son of a child movie star, suggests that other people are "dangerous because they are contagions. They infect you with or without your consent; they lure you onto paths you wouldn't have chosen.... if you collide with someone, you must be prepared to reside inside their psychology indefinitely, and this is the burden of a lifetime." These characters, struggling to communicate and launch meaningful relationships, do collide rather than connect. 

The discomfort over an inability to find companionship is not limited to dying communities, and the visitor from Hollywood concedes that his own conversations with others are a mess as "he doesn't know how to have clean ones anymore." While in Vacca Vale, he wanders into a church and agrees after a priest asks if he is there for a confession. After describing his fears and worst behaviors, the man questions the priest’s assessment. The priest admits to weariness and advises the confession might be his last. Unleashing regret, the man mourns “rot at the center of the Catholic Church,” Rather than effect change, the priest felt infected. “Abuse should be condemned. Birth control should be encouraged…. These are easy things, obvious things, unavoidably right and good, and yet I’ve come to believe that they’re never going to happen within this decaying institution. I’m sick of following orders, meekly playing the game, waiting for the rules to change themselves.” 

His complaints target one institution, yet capture the dilemma of anyone trapped within systems, playing by questionable rules while ignoring massive, obvious problems. The priest counsels the visitor that no person can be all good or all bad. “You’re just a series of messy, contradicting behaviors, like everyone else. Those behaviors can become patterns, or instincts, and some are better than others. But as long as you’re alive, the jury’s out.” 

Progress depends on breaking old patterns, avoiding old mistakes. 

St. Blandine

The apartment is the first for the foster children, three young men and a woman, Tiffany. She is intelligent, well-read, but she drops out of high school after a misguided affair. Despite or maybe because of her own history of hurt and neglect, she continues to study and learn, touting a library copy of She-Mystics: An Anthology and adopting the name of Blandine, a slave girl martyred for her Christian beliefs in the 2nd century. The teenager stands out as odd, fascinated less by religion and more by ethics, philosophy, and ancient saints who practiced self-abuse to achieve immortality and godliness. 

With a few exceptions, Blandine is wary of new relationships – "My whole life has educated me against investments whose rewards depend on the benevolence of others." And so she regards Hildegard, a mystic from the 12th century, as her only true friend, relying on quotes for guidance: “Even in a world that’s being shipwrecked, remain brave and strong” and “Humanity, take a good look at yourself. Inside, you have heaven and earth, and all of creation. You are a world – everything is hidden in you.”  

St. Hildegard von Bingen

Blandine ponders how the mystics, despite their gender and solitude, left their mark on history and human thought. And while she does not believe in God and regards the mystics as selfish and individualistic, she wonders how a modern mystic might challenge climate change, systemic injustice, the “plundering growth imperative,” and other obvious challenges in Vacca Vale. 

Ambition mixes with fear, and Blandine admits to often being “attacked by an awareness of how impossible it is to learn and accomplish all that she needs to learn and accomplish before she dies.” She denies herself a high school scholarship, the chance to attend college, appropriate roommates all while searching for virtue in a community seeping with inequality, corruption, insecurity and depression. Reflecting on her own life, she concedes that "It all looks so - so grotesque." She longs to transform her community but lacks tools to intercede. 

Another neighbor – Joan, the editor of online obituaries – is fearful and lonely, witnessing the pain of Vacca Vale on a more personal scale. One day while walking, she observing the impulsive ease of strangers demonstrating care for a person who collapses on the street. She understands that “human tenderness was not to be mocked. It was the last real thing.” 

The disjointed plot is relayed with exquisite sentences. The theme is strong – people can transform, breaking habits and moving the many obstacles they have placed in their own way by practicing kindness. A brief and awkward encounter between Joan and Blandine in the book’s earliest pages isn't the last. The two women discover a shred of connection – thank to persistence, hope, empathy – hundreds of pages later.

Educated

Tara Westover was the youngest of seven children born to survivalist parents in Idaho who trusted neither public schools nor the medical establishment. The family avoided birth certificates, telephones, or insurance for the family vehicle – but the father eventually allowed the internet and a few activities for his youngest children like theater, singing and dance.  In her memoir, Educated , the author recalls that “Learning to dance felt like learning to belong.” Yet happy memories are few , and the family home was a place for injuries, violence, humiliation and shifting loyalties. 

As the youngest, Tara explains how she never knew her father as the carefree, happy man portrayed in an early photograph. For her, he was “a weary middle-aged man stockpiling food and ammunition.” She regularly had to remind her parents of her age, pointing out she was not as old as they assumed, as when at age 10, she had to treat an older brother who didn’t change out of gasoline-soaked pants that were later accidentally ignited and her parents scolded her for using ice-packed garbage bags on the burns.  

The fundamentalist Mormon parents insisted they homeschooled the children in basic reading and math skills, but Tara describes how she and her siblings spent most time helping her father in his makeshift scrapyard and the mother with her unlicensed midwifery practice that included collecting herbs and preparing folk medicines. The older boys left home as teenagers for jobs - driving rigs, welding or working scrapyards. But Tyler aspired to attend college, using savings to purchase a trigonometry book and other texts to study. The father, worried about the temptations and disappointments associated with an education, discouraged his children. “College is extra school for people too dumb to learn the first time around,” he retorted. Somehow Tyler’s conviction “burned brightly enough to shine through the black uncertainty,” and the brother did not return home again for another five years.

The family wields religious beliefs and shame as a weapon and means of control. Another brother, Shawn, appoints himself as a guardian over Tara, accompanying her to activities, shaming her for a maturing body, and lashing out with physical abuse when he doesn’t like her clothes or chats with boys. Tara knew that girls had fewer opportunities than boys, and girls could not be a prophet, but conversations with Tyler suggested that she had a “kind of worth that was inherent and unshakable.” Tara detests the shame she feels about Shawn’s accusations and abusive behavior, later admitting that “the only thing worse than being dragged through the house by my hair was Tyler’s having seen it.”  Others witnessing the abuse made her shame and pain more real. 

As a teenager, Tara increasingly enjoys experiences away from home with other relatives and friends, and begins to question her family's ways. The father is paranoid about the government and Illuminati, and Tara recognizes that when she tries to describe his fears to others, she sounds awkward and rehearsed: “the words belonged to my father” and “I was ashamed at my inability to take possession of them.” Tyler convinces Tara to study for the ACT and apply to Brigham Young College as a homeschooled student. “’There’s a world out there, Tara,’ he said. ‘And it will look a lot difference once Dad is no longer whispering his view of it in your ear.’”

At school, her lack of basic knowledge is stunning. In a class of Western art, she encounters a word she had never seen before – Holocaust – and unfortunately raises her hand to ask its meaning. The professor assumes sarcasm and quickly moves on while other students shun her for what they viewed as a vulgar attempt at humor. She immediately feels like a freak and wonders how everyone around her automatically senses her ignorance. I must admit to cringing at such a question and wondering why she didn't look the word up online. My husband and I both taught undergraduates for more than two decades, and agreed that we would have likely provided a brief definition in class - the Nazis murdered more than 6 million civilians, European Jews and other minorities, men women and children, during World War II - and would have asked to speak with her after class about her purpose in this question.  A teacher's duty is to unearth such deficits and provide the student with resources.

Ignorance leads to loneliness for those who mingle with the educated, and education leads to loneliness within the Westover family. When Tara returns home to work one summer, her brother called her vile names, “wh---” and “n-----.”  Early on, she tries to pass this treatment off as humor, but after college, the brutality makes her feel uncomfortable and angry: “I had begun to understand that [our family] had lent our voices to a discourse whose sole purpose was to dehumanize and brutalize others – because nurturing that discourse was easier, because retaining power always feels like the way forward.” 

Her outlook on life had transformed completely, as Tara heard “a call through time” that shaped new conviction, separating her from the family’s tradition of humiliating others for pleasure. Refusing to go along, she mastered new forms of self-discipline that included thinking for herself, one that included the skills and culture shaping her early life. 

While in college, Tara attends a study-abroad program at Cambridge University and must apply for a delayed certificate of birth. Lacking documentation, she relies on an aunt’s affidavit to obtain a passport. During the program, she becomes curious about how historians and other gatekeepers of the past “come to terms with their own ignorance and partiality. I thought if I could accept what they had written was not absolute but was the result of a biased process of conversation and revision, maybe I could reconcile myself with the fact that the history most people agreed upon was not the history I had been taught. Dad could be wrong and the great historians … could be wrong, but from the ashes of their dispute I could construct a world to live in.”  

Growing up, she had always yearned for a boy’s “future” – to be a “decider” and to “preside.” As a graduate student, she is elated to discover works by philosopher John Stuart Mill, who "claimed that women have been coaxed, cajoled, shoved and squashed into a series of feminine contortions for so many centuries, that it was now quite impossible to define their natural abilities or aspirations…. Of the nature of women, nothing final can be known.” She explains her reaction: “Never had I found such comfort in a void, in the black absence of knowledge. It seemed to say: whatever you are, you are women.”

Years pass and visits to her family home both terrify and wear her down. She realizes that the disagreement with her parents would never end, and her PhD at Kings College later began with the question: “What is the person to do, when obligations to family conflict with obligations to friends, society or self?” 

The Westover parents eventually severe ties with Tyler, Tara and another adult child who pursued higher education that prompt each to question family traditions.  

Separation from her family brought Tara peace. “I shed my guilt when I accepted my decision on its own terms, without endlessly prosecuting old grievances, without weighing [her father’s] sins against mine.” Separation allowed her to focus on memories of the most pleasant, productive parts of her childhood. Otherwise, she freed herself from a distorted reality, misinformation and assertive ignorance. “You could call this selfhood many things. Transformation. Metamorphosis. Falsity. Betrayal. I call it an education.” 

I began reading and writing about the high rates of illiteracy in Afghanistan in 2010, research that led to the publication of Fear of Beauty. Of course, the United States was not immune from forces rejecting education and science, intent on shaming and controlling others, especially women. “Some illiterate adults have grown up in families and communities that devalue and resent education, trapping generation after generation,” I wrote for the Jungle Red Writers blog in 2013. “Some students were bullied into rejecting reading, and others do the bullying themselves. Some grow up feeling alone and stupid only to discover a learning disability long after school years have ended. Others know that seeking help as an adult takes courage and fiercely rally their children and grandchildren to read and avoid a humiliation that’s so often a motivation for violence.” 

Irrational fear, like education, can transform society one family at a time, yet individuals can break the cycle.

Self-deception

 

The novel Where the Truth Lies from British author Anna Bailey demonstrates how a community or individual can use religion as a weapon to control or belittle others. The book is set in small rural Colorado town, where a father regularly abuses his three children, insisting that God made him the way he is and God “understands why I’ve done the things I’ve done.” Of course, that argument does not apply to others who may choose to live differently, whether that might be homosexuality or immigration. 

For the fundamentalist father, his way is God’s way, the only way, and a cycle of cruelty, humiliation, guilt, anger and shame ensues. Expectations of rote forgiveness mock Christian principles. Teenagers observing and subjected to such abuse lash out against the unreasonable controls and expectations with self-abuse – shutting down with self-loathing, substance abuse, sexual debasement. Hurting one’s own body “feels like power, the way a mad king might slaughter his people, just to prove he can.” Resorting to extreme behavior is perhaps a last-ditch effort for finding someone who might care. If that savior does not emerge, then a life with so much anger and control is not worth living anyway. 

Children trapped in such situations, expected to honor insane parents, cannot help but question whether God even exists. In this book, young Jude protests that "God wouldn’t –" and his brother Noah responds: “This has nothing to do with God, you idiot. God doesn’t do anything, He just whispers in people’s ears that they’re worth jack shit, and they pray and pray hoping He’ll stop, but He doesn’t, and in the end they just go crazy. That’s all God does, He makes people go crazy, so get that into your head and grow up!”

Most adults in the small town express sympathy but then shrug and look the other way. The worst of it is when family members turn on one another, pointing out transgressions, some true and others false, finding scapegoats for the tyrant to attack. The goal is to deflect attention away from their own wrongdoings or create horrific chaos so that others outside the family might intercede. 

The book's title, Where the Truth Lies, reflects the multiple meanings of the verb “to lie” as detailed by Merriam-Wesbster: to engage in falsehoods, to sleep or remain motionless, to remain inactive or in hiding, to bed with, to have an effect, to remain still, to belong or to be neglected. Of course, there is but one meaning for truth - what happened to Abigail Blake and why.

Bailey’s novel supports the notion that an outsider can sort through carefully crafted myths, history and expectations and reveal our true natures. 

Self-deception, the embracing of false beliefs despite evidence to the contrary, leads to horrific behaviors and crimes. Self-deception is both morally wrong and morally dangerous, individually and collectively. Those who engage in self-deception, evading evidence to avoid knowledge and truth about real problems swirling in their midst, cannot be trusted on any topic. 

Collective self-deception is especially dangerous, and yet the growing trend, fueled by the internet and social media, “has received scant direct philosophical attention as compared with its individual counterpart,” notes the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. The self-deceived turn to groups who reinforce their beliefs and most frightening: “Compared to its solitary counterpart, self-deception within a collective is both easier to foster and more difficult to escape, being abetted by the self-deceptive efforts of others within the group.” 

Freedom to be mean?

Religion is defined by Oxford Dictionaries as "The belief in and worship of a superhuman controlling power, especially a personal God or gods" and "A pursuit or interest to which someone ascribes supreme importance."

Throughout history, some take this pursuit to extremes. In the United States, the effort to protect religious beliefs that go against social norms can get complicated. Special protections can trample other other rights and courtesies.

Indiana has enacted a law on "Religious Freedom Restoration."

The vague law can deliver confusion in a nation with a wide range of beliefs. The law allows businesses and corporations to reject customers based on religious beliefs. So, a pharmacist could refuse to provide a prescription for legal birth control pills. A baker can refuse to bake a cake for a gay couple planning their wedding. A doctor could refuse to deliver the infant of an unmarried mother. A real estate agent may refuse to a sell a home to an unmarried couple. A day care facility could refuse to accept children whose parents may not share beliefs simply because teachers to not want the burden of explaining diverse beliefs and practices.

Such laws seem drafted to allow citizens to rely on religious beliefs to be self-righteous, petty, mean or spiteful.

Burdens are in the eye of the beholder. Stephanie Wang writes for IndyStar:

"The argument over what [Governor Mike] Pence has thus signed becomes not only intellectual, but visceral, vitriolic, ugly. Both sides dig in, because each thinks the other is flatly wrong - in their hearts, and on the facts. And the debate rages on, sometimes spiraling to a place so far away from the law itself. All of which raises a larger question. Which really matters most: What the religious freedom law will actually legally enable; what people think it means; or what the intent is behind the law?"

As such, these laws are dangerous for religious beliefs in general. Citizens who become the targets of such acts or hear of friends who were rejected by a business will scrutinize the individual players and religions for meanness, hypocrisies and inconsistencies.

One religion's bad behavior tarnishes the reputation of religion in general as observers recognize the rules of God are interpreted by man.  In the Middle East and the United States, religion in the hands of modern man is becoming less a comfort and more a source of strife.

Places of worship and villages that exclude rather than welcome are destined to become lonely places.

The Indiana law reads:

"a government entity may not substantially burden a person's exercise of religion, even if the burden results from a rule of general applicability" though a government may "substantially burden a person's exercise of religion only if the government entity demonstrates that application of the burden to the person: (1) is in furtherance of a compelling government interest; and (2) is the least restrictive means of furthering that compelling government interest." 

Those who feel their exercise of religion has been substantially burdened "may assert the violation... as a claim or defense in a judicial or administrative proceeding, regardless of whether the state or any other government entity is a party to the proceeding."

The text of the Indiana law describes "exercise of religion" which "includes any exercise of religion, whether or not compelled by, or central to, a system of religious belief."

In the United States, citizens have freedom to worship as they please. Amendment I of the Bill of Rights: "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof, or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press, or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances."

Article IV of the US Constitution emphasizes that "no religious Test shall ever be required as a Qualification to any Office or public Trust under the United States."

Photo of abandoned church in Dickens, Nebraska, courtesy of Ammodramus and Wikimedia Commons


And do note, this post is not to suggest that the small town in Nebraska or the abandoned church is biased or connected to the Indiana law in any way. The town's economy changed with the Dust Bowl, changing transportation routes, and a merger with a nearby community. Remember, there are hauntingly beautiful structures all over this nation and the world, and the reasons are many.

Words as weapon

A well-placed falsehood can instigate murder.

In  Kabul, a woman named Farkhunda was kicked and beaten, run over by a car, and then burned to death by attackers who accused her of burning a Koran, reports Sarah Kaplan for the Washington Post. Witnesses agree that "she got into an argument with a man who sold amulets in front of the Shah-Do Shamshera shrine," Kaplan explains. Islamic scholars disagree about whether amulets, even those inscribed with quotes from the Koran, are permissible for adherents.

Before long, another man claimed she tossed copy of the Koran into a fire pit. Kaplan continues:"Farkhunda argued that she didn't burn anything - and authorities later said they were unable to find a 'single iota of evidence' that she had set fire to the Korean - but the mob ignored her."

Authorities were at the scene, and the public is divided about whether the members of the mob should be investigated and punished. But as Kaplan concludes, at the very least, Afghans are questioning and debating the morality of Farkhunda's death.

As explained in a previous blog post, an antagonist in Allure of Deceit plots to destroy a rival in his life:

All he "had to do was point out that Rose was an atheist who had once desecrated a copy of the Koran - and yet the Western woman continued to enjoy the rewards of travel and vast wealth. [He] casually passed along cash and copies of a newspaper photograph of Rose to three young men. The most desperate of the three, a young man by the name of Qasim, managed to travel to India.

"The bomb had been intended for Rose alone."

Mishandling of any object does not justify murder under any circumstances. Yet those intent on a criminal behavior and power can concoct a rationale and spread a false rumor to convince others to attack and destroy a fellow human being. As American shipping magnate Alvin Adams, 1804 to 1877, once said, "Appreciate the power of rumor, often malicious, no matter how preposterous, within the local populations you are seeking to help."

Image  of lithograph of Afghan  shows foot soldiers at the entrance to the Valley of Urgundeh in 1841, courtesy of the British Library and Wikimedia Commons: "Amulets, relics and little bags full of texts and prayers were tacked about their clothes.... The men depicted here belonged to a British regiment called the Rangers, which was raised in Kohistan under the command of Lieutenant Maule of the Artillery, who said that he had his hands full trying to impose discipline among these 'wild, unruly, merry fellows.'"

No limits

Pope Francis defends freedom of expression to a point.

"One cannot provoke, one cannot insult other people's faith, one cannot make fun of faith." The Guardian reports the comments were made during his travel from Sri Lanka to the Philippines. "There is a limit. Every religion has its dignity ... in freedom of expression there are limits."

Every faith may have its dignity, but each also is riddled with corruption and cruelties that accompany power over others. Dignity is not about killing shoppers in a Kosher grocery store, storming offices of a satirical newspaper and killing staff and the police who guard them, beheading journalists or imposing archaic rules on Muslims in Syria or Iraq. It's not about ignoring and hiding hundreds of reports of children abused by priests over decades.

The world's religions are in competition. Globalization ensures ongoing debate, and satire ensures that key questions are heard by many. Satire may be in poor taste or miss the mark, still the wide range of ideologies demonstrates that some religious beliefs must be wrong. More likely, any spiritual message interpreted by humans is flawed, as indicated by a timeline on the history of free speech, also provided by the Guardian:

1633: Galileo answers to the Inquisition for the claim that the sun does not revolve around the earth.

1859: Fundamentalists attack Charles Darwin for the theory of natural selection.

1989: The Iranian leader issues a fatwa against author Salman Rushdie over "blasphemous" content. the fatwa is withdrawn in 1998.

The inability to embrace free speech for one's opponents in the constant global exchange of ideas demonstrates a lack of confidence and faith, often leading to bullying and coercion. Progress requires free speech on all topics, especially religion. Any attempts at control invite defiance.

The 1857 portrait, Galileo Facing the Roman Inquisition, courtesy of Cristiano Banti and Wikimedia Commons.

 

Intervention

Former British Prime Minister Tony Blair questions the role of religion in politics, specifically Islam, and laments the lack of western support for military intervention against Islamic extremism.

The speech is less than convincing because of at least three contradictions that make foreign policy in the Middle East so challenging. 

First, he asserts the Middle East "remains of central importance" and "cannot be relegated to the second order." The first reason is global dependence on energy and a fourth is, "It is in the Middle East that the future of Islam will be decided. By this I mean the future of its relationship with politics." Saudi Arabia has the second largest reserves of oil in the world, the largest in the Middle East, and the country is governed by monarchy, enshrining inequality, funding extremist schools and exporting extremist theology to other Muslin nations: "For the last 40/50 years, there has been a steady stream of funding, proselytising, organising and promulgating coming out of the Middle East, pushing views of religion that are narrow minded and  dangerous. Unfortunately we seem blind to the enormous global impact such teaching has had and is having."

Even so, the United States and Britain continue to export arms to Saudi Arabia, despite grave human rights concerns and little assurance that those weapons won't land in the hands of extremists and be used against any sent to intervene. Education and trade cannot flourish without adequate security, true enough, but can leaders like Blair assure taxpayers in the west that such weapons won't be turned against political opponents, citizens or peacekeepers?

The US provides more military than economic aid to Afghanistan, Israel, Iraq and Egypt.


Second, in regard to the stream of funding and proselytizing coming out of the Middle East, made possible with oil profits, Blair mentions a time period - "40/50 years."  The influence from such extremist education was not overnight. Changing hearts and attitudes does not come fast. Fortunately or unfortunately, education and trade and cultural exchanges as simple as conversations can have more lasting positive influence on societies than unnecessary military intervention.

The nonmilitary interventions do take time - along the line of about 40 or 50 years.

Third, Blair urges modernization and democracy early in the speech: "Democracy cannot function except as a way of thinking as well as voting. You put your view; you may lose; you try to win next time; or you win but you accept that you may lose next time." And yet he criticizes the ideology emanating from the Muslim Brotherhood, which originated in Egypt, formed a political party shortly after the Arab spring protests that ousted Hosni Mubarak - a dictator long supported and funded by the west - and won the the nation's first democratic election. Yes, bad governance followed, but much came at the behest of a democratic election. Blair points to "a Titanic struggle going on within the region between those who want the region to embrace the modern world – politically, socially and economically – and those who instead want to create a politics of religious difference and exclusivity.... This is what makes intervention so fraught but non-intervention equally so."


Democracy and modernization do not go hand in hand, and votes throughout the Middle East would show that many indeed would oppose Mr. Blair's definitions of modernization. 

Mr. Blair is right on several points: Many people in Muslim countries, including the devout, oppose the desperate, bullying extremism. Chaos in one place spreads instability and extremism throughout the region. Also, as he says, "We have to stop treating each country on the basis of whatever seems to make for the easiest life for us at any one time."

He maintains that "the world of politics is uncomfortable talking abut religion" and that some say the problem is more political than religious. He adds that the terminology is inadequate, which an lead to misinterpretation, "so that you can appear to elide those who support the Islamist ideology with all Muslims." He claims to be fascinated by analysts' efforts to view the issues in the Middle East as "disparate rather than united by common elements," not really about Islam, not really about religion.

In one part of the speech, Blair suggests the problem is not Islam, but religion that fails to tolerate other beliefs with no social harm: "There is a wish to eliminate the obvious common factor in a way that is almost wilful." He notes that a strict Islamist agenda may not advocate for violence, but the "overall ideology is one which inevitably creates the soil in which such extremism can take root" and a few sentences later, he concludes that the days for such extreme interpretations of Christianity have been eradicated from politics.


Blair suggests that many "look at the issue of intervention or not and seem baffled." Yet those who take the time to examine more than just recent history, combined with the role of their own countries in the region and the fast, frightening pace of globalization, are less baffled.  More baffling is whether it's possible to engage in political conversation about religion and resolve anything of substance among citizens of different faiths. Should multiple and competing religions intervene in politics and how so? 

Blair concludes: "Engagement does not always mean military involvement. Commitment does not mean going it alone. But it does mean stirring ourselves. It does mean seeing the struggle for what it is. It does mean taking a side and sticking with it."


It's uncertain if the the citizens of the west could agree on a "side" and Blair's speech is not clear on exactly what that side should be, although he does offer recommendations on conflict in Egypt, Syria, Tunisia, Libya, Yemen, Iran, and the Middle East peace process - much of which is more of the same methods of intervention.

Blair probably would not agree, but consistent foreign policies coming from the west, cutting off aid, trade, support when recipients violate agreements or human rights, could be helpful. Otherwise, we return full circle to what he earlier claims to oppose: "treating each country on the basis of whatever seems to make for the easiest life for us at any one time."

Photo of Jordanian with MI-19 40 mm grenade launcher during Exercise Bright Star 2009, a bilateral weapons exchange in Egypt, courtesy of US Marine Corps and Wikimedia Commons.  Data on foreign aid from USAID. 

A word

Censorship and religious extremism go hand in hand.  Fearful of free thought and the opinions voiced by other, the extremists are desperate to control others. The efforts to censor typically backfire and demean the religion or system of governance by suggesting it cannot bear scrutiny from others.

An appeals court in Malaysia has ruled that the term "Allah" is exclusive to Islam and use by others to refer to another god "could cause public disorder," reports the BBC News. Christians and people of other faiths in Malaysia often use the word to refer to their respective higher power. "Although religious freedom is guaranteed by Malaysian law, the country's Christian, Buddhist and Hindu minorities have long complained that the government infringes on their constitutional right to practice religion freely — accusations the government denies," explains Al Jazeera. 

Allah is not a Malay word. The origin of the word is Arabic and a contraction of al-'il‘h, or "the god," according to the Oxford Dictionaries. Arab and Christian Muslims alike rely on the word to refer to the higher power.

The court ruling does not address use of the word by non-Muslims to refer to the central figure of Islam. 

Fear of Beauty relies on the word at least 75 times, and, no, the censors in Malaysia would not enjoy the plot. The novel criticizes the constant pressure and bullying from those in our communities who try to censor and control others - and deny cooperation and commonality. Adherents who must control others are deeply insecure.

Photo of St. Paul's Church in Malacca, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons and Bjørn Christian Tørrissen.

Authenticity

Another controversy has emerged over authenticity and which writers have the proper background to write and speak out on certain topics.

Critics, including Daniel Politi of Slate, are blasting an interviewer who questioned scholar Reza Aslan about why, as a Muslim, he set out to write a book about Jesus. Critics on the opposite side have suggested that Aslan and some interviewers were devious in hiding his faith. Aslan responded firmly and masterfully on that point and others:  He mentions his Muslim faith on page 2 of the book, Zealot: The Life and Times of Jesus of Nazareth, and he is an academic and historian. Being a practicing Muslim and historian are not exclusive.

Likewise a woman who was raised by Catholics can write about a Muslim woman in rural Afghanistan. 

Demanding that authors segregate their writing toward their own countries, their own beliefs, their own politics or experiences - denying human capability for research, analysis, and imagination in making connections - is an insidious form of censorship and control.

The most pointed analysis can come from commenters, and one, fingersfly, responded to the Erik Wemple blog in The Washington Post: 

Aslan is seen as a threat because he writes about "Jesus the man" and points out the contradictions between him and the "Jesus of myth" created by the Roman Church. Jesus the man and his socialist message would not serve the masters' agenda so they co-opted and changed him from socialist revolutionary to peaceful obey-er of all things secular. Religions are invisible chains to enslave believers into living lives in fear .... It's a hideously twisted way to control people, but sadly it works.  

Writing is judgment, from the very moment one picks up a pen and selects a topic. And yes, authors can and should write about other countries and time periods.
  
Aslan can't complain though. Controversy helps a book, and this morning his book ranks first on Amazon.    

Teen rebels

An Arizona proposal that would require high school students to take a specific constitutional oath before graduating high school may galvanize young atheists. Arizona House Bill 2467 would require, starting in the 2013-1014 school year, principals to verify in writing that students have recited the following oath before being allowed to graduate: 

 

I, _________, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic, that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge these duties; So help me God. 

The filing prompted headlines suggesting the oath would prevent atheist students from graduating. Representatives behind the bill dismiss criticisms, by noting the bill might be revised and that the oath would be routine, similar to legislators taking a constitutional oath.

Article VI of the Constitution calls such oaths into question:  “no religious Test shall ever be required as a Qualification to any Office or public Trust under the United States.”  The First Amendment of the Bill of Rights maintains: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.”

The oath adds another front in the battle of teen rebellion. Such rebellion is natural in American society, even encouraged by some. Teens are wary of political maneuvering or automatic rituals tainted with hypocrisy. The Arizona oath falls into this category, coming from political leaders who claim to support liberties and then compels high school into a rote oath.  Thoughtful students will question of the purpose of the oath. Is it to test loyalty to the country? Allegiance to God? Punish for students who aren’t citizens or don’t think as the Arizona political leaders do?  

It certainly will do little to reduce Arizona’s dropout rate – the highest in the nation at 7.8 percent.

Parents often discover rebellion extends to attending religious services, according to Connie Rae, author of Hope for Parents of Troubled Teens A Practical Guide to Getting Them Back on Track.  “Requiring a child to attend services isn’t what turns him against the church,” she writes. “It is often the hypocrisy he sees there or in his home that makes the church a shallow mockery.”

Richard M. Lerner in The Good Teen: Rescuing Adolescence From the Myths of the Storm and Stress Years urges parents to be less eager about changing teens than changing their own parenting approach.  He starts the book by reminding readers about America’s youthful ways, captured in books like Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain. Twain noted in his autobiography: “In religion and politics people's beliefs and convictions are in almost every case gotten at second-hand, and without examination, from authorities who have not themselves examined the questions at issue but have taken them at second-hand from other non-examiners, whose opinions about them were not worth a brass farthing.”

Photo of Mark Twain from Wikimedia Commons. 

Fashion

"Unfortunately, when rituals are prioritized over spirituality at this tender young age, religion can become restrictive rather than liberating," writes Asma T. Uddin, founder and editor in chief of Altmuslimah. She and other writers of various faiths were asked to debate when does a religious upbringing cross the line from nurturing to oppressive.

Religion is too restrictive when it limits basic human rights, opportunities, education, curiosity - the growth of the human spirit. Religions lose influence and sustainability when their leaders must rely on manipulation, commercialism or threats to win over hearts and minds.

As noted in Fear of Beauty, "There’s no reason to fear comparisons and inquiries that come with good intentions.... Believers cannot fear the nonbelievers. Those who resist questions or comparisons lack true faith."

Children and families do make comparisons in a diverse society.
Responsibility for spirituality rests with parents, maintains Uddin, and people do change their minds. Yet too many parents lack the confidence to examine teachings and make a choice, and for others, religion is but another passing fashion.

Photo of Afghan child in Garmsir, courtesy of US Marine Corps and Wikimedia Commons

Jihad

The old argument continues about whether religion and politics belong with polite conversation. "The old adage that polite conversation should not include talk of politics or religion is understandable because both subjects are so heavily laden with emotion that discussion can quickly turn to shouting," wrote John C. Danforth, former US ambassador to the United Nations. "Blood is shed over politics, religion and the two in combination."

Dodging such topics does not achieve understanding.

Abukar Arman, Somalia special envoy to the United States, urges such discussions as "essential to coexistence, development and progress!" And he takes advantage of a public forum in YaleGlobal Online to defend jihad as "the constant motivation for gaining knowledge, to seek and create opportunities for ourselves, to cultivate good families and good communities, to spiritually develop and purify ourselves, find the sublime Creator, understand the purpose of our respective lives and find a common ground in which coexistence is possible."

He maintains that the spiritual process is about truthseeking, not violence. To understand the process, literacy and individual interpretations and expressions are required. He offers a theory as to why and how extremist groups engage in reckless violence - to secure power with an attitude that he labels "assertive ignorance." But the power and recognition built on violence, oppression or inequality do not endure.

"The world has but one religion - love, which is its life," wrote Indian poet Ulloor S.Parameswara Iyer. And I suppose we need the politics for those who don't agree.

Statue of Uloor S. Parameswara Iyer outside the State Central Library, Trivandrum, Kerala, India, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons and Ajeeshcphilip.