NOTES FROM THE HINTERLAND
LOSING OUR SOULS
By Laurie Meunier
Graves
“Do we continue to ask fundamental questions about the
universe we live in, or do we not? To me, there is only one answer. The very
soul of who we are as a species, at our very best, is expressed in our
undying curiosity.”
—Verlyn
Klinkenborg
Recently, at the
Maine International Film Festival, I saw The Common Sense Farm, a
short documentary that fascinated me and continues to do so. It was about a
religious group called the Twelve Tribes, who live communally and seem to
practice a curious blend of Judaism and Christian fundamentalism. Both the
men and the women have long hair, and the film depicts them as a cross
between the Amish and refugees from Godspell who sing beautifully,
work hard, and use organic gardening methods. Like most Christian
fundamentalists, the Twelve Tribes has an intense aversion to modern
culture, and they home school their children, forbid them to watch
television or movies, and use corporal punishment as a form of discipline.
When I visited the Twelve Tribes web site, I was not surprised to learn that
this group admires the Puritans, who settled in Massachusetts in the 1600s.
Indeed, there is even a Twelve Tribes settlement in Plymouth.
Despite the Twelve
Tribes’ messianic urges and their antipathy to multiculturalism, I am not
without sympathy for these adherents of the so-called simple life. I suspect
that I can’t be the only liberal who is, at times, disgusted by the loud,
often crude culture in which we live, a culture that focuses too much on
advertising sex and wealth (if I never saw another picture of Paris or Nicky
Hilton, then that would be just fine with me), a culture that encourages us
to consume constantly, regardless of the consequences. As I’ve noted before,
Vice President Cheney’s pungent response to small, fuel-efficient cars was,
“Americans don’t drive cars like that.” Like the Twelve Tribes, I feel that
our society centers too much on individualism and not enough on community.
At times, I have even yearned for the communal, agrarian life that the
Twelve Tribes leads, and I have a small collection of back-to-the-land books
that I periodically read.
Then, on Nova,
I watched Brian Greene’s The Elegant Universe, a series of shows
designed to help mere mortals understand physics, specifically string
theory, which has been dubbed “the theory of everything.” Now, I won’t
pretend I understood the finer points of string theory, the notion, as
Greene put it, that “everything in the universe, from the tiniest particle
to the most distant star is made from one kind of ingredient—unimaginably
small vibrating strands of energy called strings.” But I understood a
little, and more important, I was captivated by the energy and the
excitement of Greene and the various scientists featured on his show. They
all had gleams in their eyes, and while they readily admitted that string
theory might be “a dead end,” they clearly relished their journey of
discovery, even if it led them in a direction different from what they had
expected. On the last show, Greene concluded, “[I]n a few years, experiments
may begin to tell us whether some of these ideas are right or wrong. But,
regardless of the outcome, we'll keep going, because, well, that’s what we
do. We follow our curiosity. We explore the unknown. And a hundred or a
thousand years from now, today’s view of the cosmos may look woefully
incomplete, perhaps even quaint. But undeniably, the ideas we call string
theory are a testament to the power of human creativity.”
The contrast
between the two groups, the scientists and the Twelve Tribes, couldn’t be
greater. One group embraces the unknown. They are not afraid to look at the
world as it is, ask questions, and go where the evidence takes them. They
are not afraid to change their minds. The other group, in response to the
world’s many imperfections, have retreated and closed themselves away,
refusing to acknowledge anything that doesn’t fit in with their conception
of God or the universe. They view curiosity and human creativity with
suspicion and hostility, and they do their best to suppress these urges in
themselves and in their children. One group embodies courage and
intellectual daring. The other group embodies fear and closed mindedness.
If the Twelve
Tribes and their ilk ruled the world, the earth, flat as a disc, would be
the center of the solar system. Except, of course, it wouldn’t. It would
only be our ignorant perceptions, reinforced by dogma, which would cause us
to see the world as we wish it to be rather than as it is.
Yes, yes, the
impatient response might be, but we know very well that the earth is not
flat and that it is not the center of the universe. Why make such a fuss?
Especially since the Twelve Tribes do not vote and keep to themselves.
However, there are other religious fundamentalist groups with similar
beliefs who have far more power and influence than the Twelve Tribes, and,
in this country, they have an ally in the highest office. On every level, we
see the results of willful ignorance, of turning a blind eye to science and
reality. From the Middle East to global warming to Hurricane Katrina to
scientific research, the list is long, alarming, and the mistakes in
judgement are serious, even deadly.
Therefore, despite
the appeal of the Twelve Tribes, I must cast my lot with the scientists and
with Verlyn Klinkenborg. Ignorance is not bliss, and losing our souls is too
high a price to pay for the security offered by any kind of fundamentalism,
religious or secular. Without our souls, we become demonic, destructive not
only to ourselves but also to the rest of the planet. The final irony, of
course, is that the religious fundamentalists claim to be obsessed with
souls while scientists are often portrayed as soulless, godless heathens.
But in the end, who has more soul?
Those who seek the
truth or those who turn away from it? To me, the answer is more than clear.
