A Very Long Rant

Our world is fast succumbing to the activities of men and women who would stake the future of our species on beliefs that should not survive an elementary school education.

-- Sam Harris, The End of Faith

D commented that there's nothing in my blog about Mohammed's caricatures. I guess one of the reasons is that I don't really give much one way or the other. But okay, I'll bite.

Here's a story.

Let's say you work for a medium-sized company called SlaevDryver. Things are chugging along nicely, times are good, and the company is seeing a lot of work. Since you're hiring, you hire this new guy by the name of--now, let's see if I can come up with a suitably vague, culture-neutral name that won't offend anybody...I got it--Abdullah.

You hire Abdullah after a diligent interview. Abdullah does nicely in the interview and seems otherwise competent. Then comes the orientation on Monday.

Your team trudges into the big conference room by the elevator and after some general bitching and moaning about how your respective weekends went, you turn to Abdullah for introductions. Abdullah gets up, clears his throat a bit, and says:

Abdullah: Hi, I'm Abdullah Rahmatullah ibn Mohammed. For those of you who're blinking, I also answer to Al.

Chorus: Hi Al.

Al: It's so nice to be working here. It's always been my dream to work for SlaevDryver. To give you a brief sketch of what I've been up to, career-wise...well, after graduation, I worked for Duzntpae-Well for ten years as Senior Software Dude, before upping and moving to the Midwest to work for a further five years in So-u-wanna-rayz in the capacity of Very Senior Guy Who Does Mysterious Stuff. And now here I am.

Chorus: Welcome, Al.

Al: Thanks.

Chorus: Sure.

So all of you get up to leave and schlep on back to your desks to indulge in a couple of hours of the Mandatory Monday Morning Zone Out. Al clears his throat again. You look at him curiously.

Al: Guys, just one more thing. I have a request, and I want you to bear this in mind very well. I'm generally a nice sort of guy but you should never, NEVER, ever, use the words "Great Bearded One-eyed Mooh-Daddy" in any sort of writing to me. Never, ever, because it goes against certain deeply held beliefs that I have which prohibits using those words in that order in writing. You can say it out loud, but you can never write it. Anybody who uses this sacred phrase in any sort of writing commits blasphemy and insults my beliefs. So please, just don't do it, okay. I cannot stress this enough.

Now of course, this strikes some of you as very strange, but most of you are like, "Yeah whatever, dude. Just don't drink all the coffee and hog the refridgerator shelves, okay. Remember to clean out your shit once a week."

So time goes by and Al seems to be doing all right at work. He's considered a little strange because five times a day, he lies on his stomach on the carpet in his cubicle, circles his arms and his legs in a swimming motion and chants in a sing-song voice. It appears to be a strange form of worship involving "Mooh-daddy".

Now, some people are a little annoyed at this because the chants can get a little loud at times. But then again, most of you just chalk it up to harmless eccentricity. And besides, as you like to point out to the annoyed people, Al is at least doing his worship-thing in the privacy of his own cubicle and also, he's quite good at his work. So leave him be, you say.

There is also this incident at work when someone, just to see if Al was serious about the Mooh-daddy thing, sends him an e-mail that says: Hey Al, remember that time when you said that we shouldn't mention Great Bearded One-eyed Mooh-Daddy, so were you, like, serious, dude?

Five minutes later, Al is at the sender's desk, red in the face and foaming at the mouth, yelling, "I told you not to write that, I told you. Blasphemy! I demand an unconditional apology, Sir. I demand satisfaction."

He calms down only after the co-worker apologizes humbly and profusely. You guys pretty much don't go there ever again, because for chrissakes, this guy seems serious about this blasphemy business.

Some more time passes, and somehow, there seems to be this growing bunch of people who are a little ticked off at Al. Part of the reason, you overhear at work one day, is this. Apparently a colleague who was invited to dinner at Al's house a few times got the impression that Al's domestic arrangements are a little, umm...shady. It almost appears that Al has more than one wife! Either that, or he's trafficking. Now most of you guys, being what you are, are not really disturbed by this news. You are more like, "Way to go Al. Monogamy is for wimps. Rock on." But for some unexplained reason, the women at work see this differently. 

Women! Who'll ever understand them, eh?

Gradually, more tidbits about Al's other life start floating in. You have a hard time sorting out the truth from the hatemongering, but here's what people say. Al is a wife-batterer. He is rumored to have gotten into a brawl at his local pub over his religion. It was all sorted out in the end and everybody shook hands, but still.

Most disturbing of all however is the strong rumor that Al and a bunch of his bullyboy friends apparently tried to convert a sixteen year old boy into Al's cult, and when the boy refused, severely beat him up and broke his arms. The police almost got involved, but backed off later because it now appears that these cultists are a sizable population in your town and more violence may follow if Al and his buddies are pulled up over this.

The more liberal among those of you at work still take the following position: Al's personal business is his personal business. He's never slipped up at work, and that's what matters. Besides, most of the stuff about him are rumors anyway. So just leave him be.

Everybody is not so liberal though, and so one day some jokers at work get together and decide to pull a nasty on Al. They know that a particular phrase pisses off Al real good, so they decide to paint a big banner in red with the dreaded phrase on it and hang it on the bulletin board in front of Al's cubicle over the weekend, so that it's the first thing that Al sees on Monday morning.

Al does see it, and what follows is quite predictable and unpleasant.

Now my question to you is this. Let's say that you indeed worked at this hypothetical company. Where would you fall on this issue? Would you side with Al, because he was deliberately and needlessly provoked. OR, would you side with the jokers, because they were completely within their rights to put up a banner, and besides, Al seems such a mental sort outside of work, anyway.

How you answer that question might determine how you will vote on this caricature issue, because the situation described above is analogous to the caricature deal. And if you don't see the analogy, then either I don't communicate well, or you don't have any imagination. I am, for obvious reasons, inclined to believe the latter. Kidding, kidding.

Anyway, while you mull that question over, let me say this.

No one will argue against the fact that dear Al is irrational in his beliefs. It is quite irrational to get upset over the breach of a nonsensical convention. Most people would agree that if somebody really behaved like Al at a workplace, he would shortly be given an official letter asking him to seek alternate employment, most likely followed by some unofficial advice to spend a little time with a mental health professional.

At the same time, the jokers at work deliberately chose to be insensitive to Al's irrationality. So (and I'm sorry to switch horses on you) here's the real question: Just how sensitive should someone be towards irrationality?

And I would request you to answer that very carefully, unless of course, you claim complete exemption from irrationality.

Here's what I would say. And let me put it in the form of two rules.

(A) If one person's irrational belief does not interfere with your own designs in any way, it is the path of least resistance to be tolerant of it.

(B) Quite naturally, the opposite also applies, i.e. if a person's irrational belief encroaches on your freedoms--even a little--oppose it by all means available.


As an example of Rule A, consider that I, an atheist, am tolerant of your rather harmless belief in God, because the alternative is to call you delusional and lose a friend. Yes, yes, it's a compromise. The same applies to you. You are tolerant of my non-belief (I hope) because the alternative is to...you get the idea.

This is another example of Rule A with respect to Muslims. Muslims consider the representation of their prophet in a visual medium to be blasphemy. As a non-Muslim, I am not particularly disturbed by this because it is a convention that I would have no trouble following. It's not like I just love to draw pictures of a bearded, long-dead Arab businessman every day, and bite back tears if deprived of this right.

On the other hand, if a Muslim insisted that I not eat pork in front of him because it offends him, I would apply Rule B and ask him to go make tender love to a camel.

Note: If a Muslim asked me to stop eating pork in front of him in an officially Islamic country, I would say, "Yes, Sir. Where's the nearest trashcan, Sir?" Keeping that in mind, here's a thought for all the fucking head-in-the-asses pseudo-liberals of this world. This is why you should never, ever let your respective countries go Islamic, you clueless fuck-all morons. If for nothing, at least for the privilege of eating pork in public. Islam is a one-way street, you confused cretins, and if you don't get that, may Allah grant you mercy.

To take much license with Will Durant: Civilization is a precious good and guard it as such, you sainted idiots; don't sell it for tuppence and a fucking song.


Sorry, I had to get that out of my system. I'll come back to the topic at hand. So this is where I stand. Everybody has a right to free speech, and everybody has a right to be offended. So it follows that the Muslims are right to be offended. But they do not have to right to be violent because that infringes on another's right to remain unharmed.

Note that it is very hard for me to say that Muslims have a right to be offended because in general, I find it very hard to be sympathetic to any Muslim cause. Given the near-history of my country, it's difficult for me to be otherwise. There is also another reason. I am turned off by revealed theology of any kind in general, but even among rotten ideas, there are some that are more rotten than others. Islam ranks among my least favourite philosophies. If somebody came up with a painless and quick scheme to reverse the brain-washing that one billion people on Earth have been subjected to since 626 A.D, I would fund it.

Okay, okay, so maybe I ask for too much when I ask for both painless and quick. Let me downsize my expectations. I'll settle for quick.

But I grudgingly admit that Muslims have the right to be offended over the Danish cartoons.

The Danes of course have a right to free speech and are quite right in publishing the cartoons. But broadly speaking, I don't see how upholding your freedom of speech will make a difference in the long run if your country is poised to become majority Islamic in the not too distant future anyway, as some demographers say it will.

This is my problem with the European countries: They make all these noises about freedom of speech and corruption of cultural values, but don't do anything fundamental to prevent Islamic influence on their precious culture. France outlaws headscarves, Danes paint the prophet, but tell me this: Has France limited Muslim immigration? What about Denmark? Nope. France, at least, needs the labour. So all this talk of freedom of speech is just so much irrelevant hogwash, if you ask me. Why polish brass on a sinking ship?

I have to pause here and say this. What the fuck am I writing? I am actually defending something that I wouldn't defend if paid a salary for it. It's like I'm stuck in this surreal nightmare that I can't shake myself awake from.


Disclaimer: I am categorically not arguing for or against limiting of Muslim immigration into European countries. Quite frankly, I couldn't care less. The only two countries that concern me at the moment are India and the United States. Europe's problems are Europe's problems. I don't care if fifty years from now, the Danes are all wearing skullcaps and raising their asses to the sky five times a day in deference to an imaginary Sky-Poppa.

All said and done, an average European doesn't give two fucks about an average Asian, and I reciprocate that sentiment doubly. This callousness has been demonstrated many times before , and most recently when everybody went batshit about 57 deaths in London and precious few eyebrows were raised when 60 people got splattered over the pavement in Delhi shortly afterwards. Yes Europe, cry copious tears for us, and make it convincing, if you expect tears and sympathy from us.

Here's my personal note to Europe and its near-unconscious racism: Sink or swim, it's your problem. In a perverse and ultimately self-destructive way, I almost hope that you grovel before the Muslims.

Some Answers

Rob's cheesy, nosy questions and my corny answers. Rob's questions are in blue italics.


1) When you think of someone, what pushes your "wow" buttons? In other words, is there a "type" or "types" that you go for? Are you an "eyes" person, one who goes for the artistic type, or rough around the edges? (This is a gender-neutral question, I think.)

She's got to have a backbone. I don't go for f***ing invertebrates. A proud, straight back with a spine is a bare minimum requirement. Everything else is negotiable.


2) Name something about the people you work with that pushes your "That really pisses me off" button. (Okay, be careful, cuz you never know who may read this. If in doubt, substitute a "people in general" response.)

There's really only one kind of person I hate at work--the clueless boss.

I have consistently hated working for stupid people. Some people have the idea that working for a dumbass is a good thing, cuz you don't have to sweat it much and can get by in slipshod fashion. The response is that someone who is incapable of recognizing shoddy work will also be incapable of recognizing good work. Work for a dunce, and you can kiss any hope of professional recognition and job satisfaction goodbye.

There's another problem. Quite often you find that your professional future is tied to your supervisor's. Especially if you have long-term commitments to a company. Some people will find what I just said counter-intuitive and argue against this. After all, if your boss is an imbecile and you don't do too badly, you will actually shine by contrast and be noticed, right?

Not so. A number of workplaces have strict, inflexible power hierarchies where the careers of workers and supervisors move in lockstep. If your boss is a bottom-feeder, chances are that you won't be seeing sunlight very soon either. In reality, you often have to work harder to get promoted past a bad boss.


3) 4) and 5) If you could have three wishes what would they be? (Difficulty- No "world peace and puppies for everyone" wishes. Let's be realistic about our unrealism, shall we?)

I'm going to say this very carefully and hope for some understanding, because what I am about to say will sound very strange and slightly coy.

I have no wishes.

It's not because I have everything--far from it. It's not because I'm some kind of hermit/recluse/nut-job--I'm perfectly social, amiable, and grounded. It's not because I suffer from bouts of fatalism--my professional life has been a steadily climbing graph, if I may say so myself. It's just that I have no wishes.

Please note that this is not some sort of bizarre cop out. It's just that whatever I put down as my three wishes in the space below will be lies. I'm not above lying, but I don't feel like doing it tonight.

Think of it this way, if you will.

What do I wish for? Several billion dollars? Why? So that I can stop working? But why would I want to stop working? I don't want to.

Wish for all the knowledge in the world, maybe? But what would I do with all the knowledge in the world? Because with all the knowledge in the world will also come the knowledge that there is no more to learn. That the pleasure of discovery is forever closed to me. Is that how I would define happiness?

Aside: Here's an interesting thought. Let's consider a guy who knows everything. Like the alleged God-dude, for instance. Don't you think that if there really is an All-Knowing dude out there, the man is cursed, not blessed. For surely with all the knowledge in the universe must come all the sadness in the universe. For surely with omnipotence and omniscience must come incredible, crushing loneliness. And perhaps grinding boredom. If there is a God, I humbly put forth the idea that I believe He needs us more than we need Him. Verily have I spoken.

I do not have wishes. I have looked inside and I have drawn a blank. I do not say this with any sense of fatalism or resignation, I'm just making a bald, plain statement. With approximately the same passion I would put into noting the fact that the sun is hot.

I cannot convince you of this--it just occurred to me that I don't have the language--and I'm not going to try.


6) SuperBowl- Did the Steelers win outright, or did the Seahawks just lose an otherwise winnable game? (Sougata gets a pass on this, being a godless heathen and a ferriner to boot..)

Whew!


An Article in The Economic Times

For a good chuckle, please see the post Funny, not ha ha on Ashok's blog. Make sure that you follow the link and read the article in The Economic Times. It's funny.

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