Good Samaritan Health Care

"Go and do likewise."

A recent blog post prompted me to resurrect an almost-post of my own from some months ago...

[DISCLAIMER: This is not a post about universal health care or its merits. This is a post about the perils of using the Bible as the primary justification of your argument. I try not to get involved in these kinds of things, but the guy who presented this argument was a lawyer. And the argument annoyed me.]

[DISCLAIMER: All religious puns are completely intentional.]

It annoys me when people use the Bible in an attempt to justify public policy. It really annoys me when they do it badly.

Unsuspecting Me recently attended a talk ('sermon' would be a more accurate term) called The Moral Dimensions of Public Policy. Unsuspecting Me was more than a little disappointed that said talk was nothing more than a singular argument for universal health care. While I have no problem with a discussion on universal health care - indeed, I think that it should be widely discussed - I do have a problem with the fact that the speaker's sole justification for universal health care was the story of the Good Samaritan. For ease of reference, I'll insert the relevant Biblical passage here...

On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. "Teacher," he asked, "what must I do to inherit eternal life?" "What is written in the Law?" he replied. "How do you read it?" He answered: " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'; and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' "You have answered correctly," Jesus replied. "Do this and you will live." But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?"

In reply Jesus said: "A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he fell into the hands of robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, took him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper. 'Look after him,' he said, 'and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.'"Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?" The expert in the law replied, "The one who had mercy on him." Jesus told him, "Go and do likewise."

The speaker removed certain elements of this story and twisted them to suit his argument for universal health care - namely, that the idea of 'neighbor' transcends tribe, ergo everyone is our neighbor, and our instruction to do 'likewise' means that we have an obligation to provide health care to everyone.

And here's why that argument simply won't do. Let's examine what the Samaritan actually did...

• He did stop for an injured man that he came upon while travelling.
• He treated the man with his own materials and knowledge.
• He transported the man at the cost of his time.
• He spent a further day caring for the man upon coming to the inn.
• He paid for the injured man's care at the hands of another when he (presumably) could no longer stay himself.

...as well as what he did not do...

• He did not compel anyone else to give money or care to the injured man at their expense.
• There is no indication that he bankrupted himself (or was willing to) to provide for the injured man.
• He did not specify for what care he would or would not pay.
• He did not assume any future health care burdens beyond the immediate recovery from injury.

Perhaps the most irksome point of this lawyer's presentation came right before yours truly was about to speak her piece. The lawyer mentioned that his own sister did not have health care insurance, and that he was worried about her. Seriously - the mic was in my hand when he said this. Of course what I was about to say would now fall on deaf ears. (sigh)

As you may have guessed, my response comes down to this...

• The Samaritan responded to an immediate need that was before him. Universal health care is a level of abstraction that shifts our attention away from what is going on in our immediate environment. Upon hearing stories about sick people without health care insurance who are going without care or treatment, how can our only response be to gripe/argue/whine about the need for universal health care? Take the person to a doctor! Help them buy their meds! Don't "pass by on the other side" and wait for someone else (i.e., universal health care) to show up on the scene and save the person; if they need a doctor now, help them get help now. Yes, it may cost you, but that is the point of this parable. Individual action and sacrifice makes the difference.


• The Samaritan did what he could with what he had. HE did it. He did not compel anyone else to help him at a loss to themselves. Universal health care legislation is about compelling others to bear financial burdens that are not their own. The Samaritan voluntarily gave what he could. The difference between what one does voluntarily and what one does because one is compelled to do so is huge. One could even argue that the most critical point of this story is that the Samaritan was not compelled to give aid, and yet he did. And while he did give aid, there is no indication that the Samaritan bankrupted himself (let alone anyone else or future generations) in the process of caring for the injured man. He did not make himself a victim by failing to live up to his own pre-existing obligations.

It's probably a good time to repeat that this is not a post about universal health care. It's a post about my annoyance with an argument that assumes that 1) the moral authority of the source would permit only the speaker's interpretation and conclusions, and that 2) because one is presenting an argument that is based on the Bible that one's argument is rendered unimpeachable.

But if this post also makes a few valid points about universal health care, I can live with that.

We Lose Them At Our Peril

You may recall my passion for libraries... I certainly wouldn't be where (or who) I am today without them. Here is the text of a recent opinion piece from the L.A. Times on libraries...

U.S. Public Libraries: We Lose Them At Our Peril

by Marilyn Johnson (author of This Book is Overdue!)

"The U.S. is beginning an interesting experiment in democracy: We're cutting public library funds, shrinking our public and school libraries, and in some places, shutting them altogether.

These actions have nothing to do with whether the libraries are any good or whether the staff provides useful service to the community. This country's largest circulating library, in Queens, N.Y., was named the best system in the U.S. last year by Library Journal. Its budget is due to shrink by a third. Los Angeles libraries are being slashed, and beginning this week, the doors will be locked two days a week and at least 100 jobs cut. And until it got a six-month reprieve June 23, Siskiyou County almost became California's only county without a public library. Such cuts and close calls are happening across the country. We won't miss a third of our librarians and branch libraries the way we'd miss a third of our firefighters and firehouses, the rationale goes … but I wonder.

I've spent four years following librarians as they deal with the tremendous increase in information and the many ways we receive it. They've been adapting as capably as any profession, managing our public computers and serving growing numbers of patrons, but it seems that their work has been all but invisible to those in power. I've talked to librarians whose jobs have expanded with the demand for computers and training, and because so many other government services are being cut. The people left in the lurch have looked to the library, where kind, knowledgeable professionals help them navigate the government bureaucracy, apply for benefits, access social services. Public officials will tell you they love libraries and are committed to them; they just don't believe they constitute a "core" service.

But if you visit public libraries, you will see an essential service in action, as librarians help people who don't have other ways to get online, can't get the answers they urgently need, or simply need a safe place to bring their children. I've stood in the parking lot of the Topeka and Shawnee County Library in Kansas on a Sunday morning and watched families pour through doors and head in all directions to do homework or genealogical research, attend computer classes, read the newspapers. I've stood outside New York city libraries with other self-employed people, waiting for the doors to open and give us access to the computers and a warm and affordable place to work. I've met librarians who serve as interpreters and guides to communities of cancer survivors, Polish-speaking citizens, teenage filmmakers, veterans.

The people who welcome us to the library are idealists, who believe that accurate information leads to good decisions and that exposure to the intellectual riches of civilization leads to a better world. The next Abraham Lincoln could be sitting in their library, teaching himself all he needs to know to save the country. While they help us get online, employed and informed, librarians don't try to sell us anything. Nor do they turn around and broadcast our problems, send us spam or keep a record of our interests and needs, because no matter how savvy this profession is at navigating the online world, it clings to that old-fashioned value, privacy. (A profession dedicated to privacy in charge of our public computers? That's brilliant.) They represent the best civic value out there, an army of resourceful workers that can help us compete in the world.

But instead of putting such conscientious, economical and service-oriented professionals to work helping us, we're handing them pink slips. The school libraries and public libraries in which we've invested decades and even centuries of resources will disappear unless we fight for them. The communities that treasure and support their libraries will have an undeniable competitive advantage. Those that don't will watch in envy as the Darien Library in Connecticut hosts networking breakfasts for its out-of-work patrons, and the tiny Gilpin County Public Library in Colorado beckons patrons with a sign that promises "Free coffee, Internet, notary, phone, smiles, restrooms and ideas."

Those lucky enough to live in those towns, or those who own computers, or have high-speed Internet service and on-call technical assistance, will not notice the effects of a diminished public library system — not at first. Whizzes who can whittle down 15 million hits on a Google search to find the useful and accurate bits of info, and those able to buy any book or article or film they want, will escape the immediate consequences of these cuts.

Those in cities that haven't preserved their libraries, those less fortunate and baffled by technology, and our children will be the first to suffer. But sooner or later, we'll all feel the loss as one of the most effective levelers of privilege and avenues of reinvention — one of the great engines of democracy — begins to disappear."

(my emphasis)

If you've ever used a library, think about how you can support the libraries where you live now so that we can all continue to enjoy those privileges.

The Art of Loving (Pt III)

"Having a relationship with [her] is like waking up to discover there is a unicorn in your garden... It's a completely unique circumstance and something of a shock. You've never encountered anything quite like it. Suddenly, standing there in the middle of your life, is something that proves the presence of magic in the universe. You've always believed that the magic was real, but now you can actually see it - and almost touch it. Almost, but not quite. Because first you have to get closer, and yet how do you approach such a skittish, exotic creature? Do you even dare? And are you worthy? There is no frame of reference for such an encounter, no one can tell you how to go about it.

Then there is the issue of that very sharp horn. As lovely and gentle as the unicorn appears to be, you have a strong sense that it could also inflict serious injury, even mortal wounds, intentionally or not. Magic cuts both ways. So while it is beautiful and enchanting, and you know that you have been somehow blessed by its presence in your garden, it's more than a little dangerous - and also highly disconcerting for the average mortal..." - The Book of Love, by Kathleen McGowan

(Couldn't resist that one. ;)

"The practice of the art of loving requires the practice of faith.

What is faith?... Is faith by necessity in contrast to, or divorced from, reason and rational thinking?... [R]ational faith is a conviction which is rooted in one's own experience of thought and feeling. Rational faith is not primarily belief in something, but the quality of certainty and firmness which our convictions have. Faith is a character trait pervading the whole personality, rather than a specific belief...

In the sphere of human relations, faith is an indispensable quality of any significant friendship or love. 'Having faith' in another person means to be certain of the reliability and unchangeability of his fundamental attributes, of the core of his personality, of his love. By this I do not mean that a person may not change his opinions, but that his basic motivations remain the same; that, for instance, his respect for life and human dignity is part of himself, not subject to change.

In the same sense we have faith in ourselves. We are aware of the existence of a self, of a core in our personality which is unchangeable and which persists throughout our life in spite of varying circumstances, and regardless of certain changes in opinions and feelings... Unless we have faith in the persistence of our self, our feeling of identity is threatened and we become dependent on other people whose approval then becomes the basis for our feeling of identity. Only a person who has faith in himself is able to be faithful to others, because only he can be sure that he will be the same at a future time as he is today and, therefore, that he will feel and act as he now expects to... What matters in relation to love is the faith in one's own love; in its ability to produce love in others, and in its reliability...

To have faith requires courage, the ability to take a risk, the readiness even to accept pain and disappointment. Whoever insists on safety and security as primary conditions of life cannot have faith; whoever shuts himself off in a system of defense, where distance and possession are his means of security, makes himself a prisoner. To be loved, and to love, need courage, the courage to judge certain values as of ultimate concern - and to take the jump and stake everything on these values...

To love means to commit oneself without guarantee, to give oneself completely in the hope that our love will produce love in the loved person. Love is an act of faith, and whoever is of little faith is also of little love. Can one say more about the practice of faith? Someone else might; if I were a poet or a preacher, I might try. But since I am not either of these, I cannot even try to say more about the practice of faith, but am sure that anyone who is really concerned can learn to have faith as a child learns to walk." - The Art of Loving, by Erich Fromm

Einstein's Exasperation

"Whenever a poet or preacher, chief or wizard spouts gibberish, the human race spends centuries deciphering the message."

"Be ye lamps unto yourselves."

(This one's for DFB. Because he asked.)

It annoys me when people talk about Einstein's vision of God. It annoyed me when Dawkins did it. It annoyed me when Epstein did it. And it was really annoying me that there was a book out there called Einstein's God. (As it turns out, there are two books out there with that title, but I'm referring to the recently-published book by Krista Tippett.)

As if Einstein had some special insight into God and spiritual truths. As if we should place more importance on his vision of God than any other. Let me restate my position on God, just to be clear...

• I'm an apatheist. For me, the question of God is not important. I think that debating Its existence is distracting us from other, very real problems. (Religion, however, as an institution and a societal force, is worth discussing critically.)
• I believe that no man should place himself between another man and God. I also believe that no man should place another man between men and God. That's why this idea that Einstein's vision of God should be worth understanding or emulating bothers me.

Aside from the Einstein issue, I'm enjoying Tippett's book, which is subtitled Conversations About Science and the Human Spirit. It's essentially a collection of interviews that she has conducted over the years, interspersed with her commentary. (A collection of interviews, by a journalist, with a title that annoys me... This sounds familiar... ;) I like hearing what people think about the overlap between science and spirituality. I like the fact that I don't know who some of these people are. But I am intensely annoyed whenever the conversation is directed towards what Einstein (or Darwin) believed.

Perhaps it's because the issue of authority is so problematic within our current religious structures. Perhaps it's because people appeal to the authority of Einstein or Hawking to justify their own views on issues of god and science. (I'm thinking of a recent episode of Nightline. Once Einstein was invoked/quoted by Deepak Chopra, Harris (or Shermer, I forget who) fired back by invoking Hawking.) Almost everyone falls to the temptation of fighting appeals to authority by using appeals to authority.

I suggest that the 'enlightened' atheist would support and foster independent, critical thinking on the part of the individual regarding any idea, religious or otherwise. The unenlightened atheist is simply interested in transferring the allegiance of the individual to structure in which he holds power. This unenlightened atheist is the one who projects the idea that his beliefs are right. He is in line with (or seeks to emulate) the Great Ones within his power structure. He knows the truth, and is happy to tell it to you. Forgive me for believing that Einstein was 'enlightened' enough to reject the idea that his views should become the new dogma.

The next time you hear someone quote Einstein on religion, think of this...

A quote out-of-context is blind. A reference to authority is lame.

The Art of Loving (Pt II)

"What does one person give to another? He gives of himself, of the most precious he has, he gives of his life. This does not necessarily mean that he sacrifices his life for the other - but that he gives him of that which is alive in him; he gives of his joy, of his interest, of his understanding, of his knowledge, of his humor, of his sadness - of all expressions and manifestations of that which is alive in him. In thus giving of his life, he enriches the other person, he enhances the other's sense of aliveness by enhancing his own sense of aliveness. He does not give in order to receive; giving is in itself exquisite joy. But in giving he cannot help bringing something to life in the other person, and this which is brought to life reflects back to him; in truly giving, he cannot help receiving that which is given back to him. Giving implies to make the other person a giver also and they both share in the joy of what they have brought to life. In the act of giving something is born, and both persons involved are grateful for the life that is born for both of them."

- The Art of Loving, by Erich Fromm

The Role of the Radical Intellectual

"Now watch what you say or they'll be calling you a radical,
a liberal, fanatical, criminal."

Noam Chomsky came to town this week to accept an award for "lifetime contribution to critical scholarship." I know of Chomsky mainly for his work in linguistics and cognitive psychology, but he is even more well-known for his political views/writings. He gave a talk entitled "The Role of the Radical Intellectual: Some Personal Reflections." Foreknowledge of this event filled me the kind of anticipation that one reserves for something that they believe will be especially profound.

Foreknowledge is a dangerous thing. For a week, I tried to figure out what the great man would say about the role of the radical intellectual. In my head, I tried to construct what I believed to the role of the radical intellectual, and I tried to identify (based on my definitions of 'radical' and 'intellectual') any radical intellectuals of my generation.

Chomsky argues that with the privileges conferred "from political liberty, from access to information and freedom of expression" comes a responsibility "to seek the truth lying hidden behind the veil of distortion and misrepresentation, ideology and class interest" and "to speak the truth and to expose lies." He is particularly concerned with social wrongs and the deceptions of governments. Yet as a scientist, his work spoke to almost none of this. This was Chomsky as something more than a scientist. And nowhere (that I've found) in his arguments does Chomsky confuse the role of science in determining moral right and wrong. "Science studies what’s at the edge of understanding, and what’s at the edge of understanding is usually fairly simple. And it rarely reaches human affairs. Human affairs are way too complicated."

At some point, while I was sorting through my thoughts on intellectuals, scientists, and their relationships and responsibilities to morality and political agendas, I came back to something that I'd thought about before... I believe that you are only ever an authority on one thing - your own experience. Even if the rest of the world acknowledges you to be the authority on, let's say, string theory, you are really only an authority on your experience in studying string theory. If you misread or misinterpreted or failed to investigate just one thing, your experience is not the absolute truth of string theory.

In thinking about morality and responsibility, I finally broke down and watched that 20-some minutes of video that's been the 'buzz in secular circles'. I am loathe to talk about it because I think Harris does a disservice to science. But in the spirit of 'speak the truth to power', I'm going to rant about it just a little bit...

The fatal flaw in his presentation comes when Harris himself is willing to disregard the expressed opinion of the individual in favor of what he perceives to be a greater moral truth. "I'm happy." "You can't be happy; this is wrong." "No, I'm pretty happy." "Well, then you've been brain-washed. Don't worry; I'll save you." Chomsky addresses this issue, albeit with respect to Communist China rather than women in burkas. "Nothing is said about those people in Asian cultures to whom our 'conception of the proper relation of the individual to the state' may not be the uniquely important value, people who might, for example, be concerned with preserving the 'dignity of the individual' against concentrations of foreign or domestic capital, or against semi-feudal structures (such as Trujillo-type dictatorships) introduced or kept in power by American arms. All of this is flavored with allusions to 'our religious and ethical value systems' and to our 'diffuse and complex concepts' which are to the Asian mind 'so much more difficult to grasp' than Marxist dogma, and are so 'disturbing to some Asians' because of 'their very lack of dogmatism.'"

Harris has effectively placed his interpretation of moral right and wrong, and the perpetuation of that definition, ahead of individual equality. However, it is not necessary to capitulate to moral relativism in order to avoid making this mistake. Indeed the foundation of any worthwhile-definition of morality must be respect for the integrity of the individual and their ability to express their wants, desires, and feelings. You cannot simply declare such expressions to be invalid because you believe you know better. (You may, in fact, know better, but that does not allow you to impose your will on another human being, simply to bring them in line with your vision of how the world should be.) Each person must be treated as the authority on his/her own experience.

This brings me to my second gripe with Harris. Arguing against religion is not, and should not, be the same thing as arguing for science. Science is not a viable alternative source of morality. Science acquires and examines information, but scientists frequently fail to agree on the interpretation of data, and occasionally they can even fail to agree on whether the data exists at all.

The institution of science is no more capable of deciding what is morally right or wrong for the rest of humanity than an individual scientist is. The process of reaching consensus by which scientists agree on facts about the world is not a process of argument and reasoning that is unique to science. Critical thinking is not limited to science, nor should scientists assume that they are the best at it. I doubt that Harris intends to exclude the rest of humanity from such a debate on morality, but he appears to want to give science the key role of arbitrating the facts from which such judgments can be made. However, these facts don't exist in a vacuum; they exist within the limited scope in which they were collected. And Harris would do well to note that science has not given us morality. It has given us knowledge, but those who apply that knowledge have not been guided by the moral intentions of the scientists involved in its discovery. Though science has not given us morality, the converse is not true. Morality and moral considerations have given us science, largely by dictating what type of research can/will be permitted/funded.

Harris also fails to consider that the function of science and the function of religion are diametrically opposed. The function of science is to progress in our knowledge and understanding of the world, which means abandoning ideas once they are no longer supported by evidence, while the function of religion is to maintain a sense of certainty based in the past. (Spirituality allows for and encourages progress, but religion fights it every step of the way.) The function of religion is not to provide morality, but to provide certainty. And certainty is something science cannot provide. To claim otherwise is to grossly misconstrue the nature of science. While Harris could have made a much more compelling argument for the role of science in the dialogue of morality, he damages his case by misunderstanding what science provides relative to religion.

So what is the role of the scientist with regards to morality? Can the scientist confine herself simply to the "technical problems", and leave the "ideological types" to "'harangue' about principle and trouble themselves over moral issues and human rights"? Is the scientist simply another employee, paid to employ a specialized skill set? Or does her proximity to knowledge and revolutionary discovery convey upon her the added responsibility for moral judgment that Chomsky expects from intellectuals? Is the scientist an arbiter of morality, a servant of it, or something else?

I don't have a remarkably 'radical' opinion on that issue... The individual scientist should always be guided by her conscience. In this way she is like every other human being. She should not be coerced into using unethical research practices, either by overt or implicit threats regarding her employment status.

But the scientist (particularly the academic scientist), is contracted to collect and publish data. He is not paid to filter his findings based on his own moral judgments. In this respect he is being asked to give blind allegiance to the higher imperative to disclose data in the face of what he might perceive to be negative moral consequences of doing so. How is it that we can demand this type of unthinking obedience of these paragons of critical thinking? And what does it say about the relationship between science and morality if scientists are asked to blind themselves to the potential moral implications of their work?

Chomsky's work is not relevant to this point, nor does Harris address this issue. Nor (sadly) can I think of any particularly salient piece of writing on this topic. Which probably means that I'll be blogging about it again...

Rebirth and Renewal

Some thoughts on rebirth and renewal...

What is Life? by Samuel Coleridge

"Resembles Life what once was held of Light,
Too ample in itself for human sight ?
An absolute Self--an element ungrounded--
All, that we see, all colours of all shade
By encroach of darkness made ?--
Is very life by consciousness unbounded ?
And all the thoughts, pains, joys of mortal breath,
A war-embrace of wrestling Life and Death ?"



"Sweetly the summer air came up to the tumulus, the grass sighed softly, the butterflies went by, sometimes alighting on the green dome. Two thousand years! Summer after summer the blue butterflies visited the mound, the thyme had flowered, the wind sighed in the grass. The azure morning has spread its arms over the low tomb; and the full glowing noon burned on it; the purple of sunset rosied the sward. Stars, ruddy in the vapour of the southern horizon, beamed at midnight through the mystic summer night, which is dusky and yet full of light. White mists swept up and hid it; dews rested on the turf; tender harebells drooped; the wings of the finches fanned the air - finches whose colours faded from the wings how many centuries ago! Brown autumn dwelt in the woods beneath; the rime of winter whitened the beech clump on the ridge; again the buds came on the wind-blown hawthorn bushes, and in the evening the broad constellation of Orion covered the east. Two thousand times! Two thousand times the woods grew green, and ringdoves built their nests. Day and night for two thousand years - light and shadow sweeping over the mound - two thousand years of labour by day and slumber by night. Mystery gleaming in the stars, pouring down in the sunshine, speaking in the night, the wonder of the sun and of far space, for twenty centuries round this low and green-grown dome. Yet all that mystery and wonder is as nothing to the Thought that lies therein, to the spirit that I feel so close.

Realizing that spirit, recognizing my own inner consciousness, the psyche, so clearly, I cannot understand time. It is eternity now. I am in the midst of it. It is about me in the sunshine; I am in it, as the butterfly floats in the light-laden air. Nothing has to come; it is now. Now is eternity; now is the immortal life. Here in this moment, by this tumulus, on earth, now; I exist in it." - Richard Jefferies