Every year, I talk with my fellow service members and (mostly USAF) veterans about where we were and what we were doing when the second plane stuck the Twin Towers. Every year I ponder the same questions, most of which lead to life lessons that we might never get to use. It’s maddening, to be honest, but one of the only constants I can see is that surely we’d be better off as a species without rooting our hopes in holy books and hollow promises of a blissful afterlife. I’m not saying atheism would cure terrorism, but it would scale it back quite a bit.
Seems like a good day to reread one of my favorite columns from Professor Dawkins:
Could we get some otherwise normal humans and somehow persuade them that they are not going to die as a consequence of flying a plane smack into a skyscraper. If only! Nobody is that stupid, but how about this. It’s a long shot, but it just might work. Given that they are certainly going to die, couldn’t we sucker them into believing that they are going to come to life again afterwards? Don’t be daft! No, listen, it might work. Offer them a fast track to a Great Oasis in the Sky, cooled by everlasting fountains. Harps and wings wouldn’t appeal to the sort of young men we need, so tell them there’s a special martyr’s reward of 72 virgin brides, guaranteed eager and exclusive. Would they fall for it? Yes, testosterone-sodden young men might go for 72 private virgins in the next world.
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There is no doubt that the afterlife-obsessed suicidal brain really is a weapon of immense power and danger. It is comparable to a smart missile, and its guidance system is in many respects superior to the most sophisticated electronic brain that money can buy. Yet to a cynical government, organization, or priesthood, it is very very cheap.
When life is cheap, it cheapens everything. This is bound to happen, once a blissful afterlife becomes an article of faith.
