Humanism: a New Political Party

Ending with Proof of the Existence of God, Which Won't Convince Anyone

[If you’re like me, you are sick of just about everything political, especially political parties. When people ask me what party I belong to, I say the Humanist Party. This is a rewrite of a very early post, which seems important right now at a time when we pay more attention to talking points than to our fellow humans].

I Know You’re Probably Sick of Me

You’re probably thinking, “This guy should cheer up.” Or you’d like to glare at me and say, “Have a little faith, Bucko, stop complaining.” I see your point. I’ve never heard an elephant moan, “I’m lonely, so lonely,” or a seal whine, “It’s not fair.” On the very last episode of The Slayer, Buffy said, “The battle between good and evil isn’t about wishes, it’s about choices”—words that haunt me as I mail my check for A Short Course in Miracles, then take my infant to the zoo. At his age an elephant might as well be a monkey, but he’s happy to be somewhere outside himself. According to A New Catechism, “a miracle is an event occurring outside of nature,” yet I’m happiest when pouring concrete or changing diapers, when listening to the outdoor zapper fry hundreds of virus-infected mosquitos. You’re probably thinking, “Back off, pal. Take a pill.” But how much safer we’d feel if God were a car mechanic or a drunk—anything to suggest He’s working and suffering like the rest of us. Granted, not the happiest thoughts for the zoo, and who’d want to piss off God, though I know He’ll love me, even be amused, when I stand before Him, saying, “I tried, I tried”—not sure whether I really did.

I had only been teaching for about five years when in 1988 I ended up with a pair of freshmen twins in my English composition course. The course was focused on controversial topics because I wanted to make students see both sides of an issue and then come up with their own arguments. I wanted to jolt them out of their comfort zones.

This was during the Reagan years, and both twins were budding young Republicans. Ted was a thoughtful right winger, who carefully weighed outcomes before expressing his opinion. Jack was the outspoken one, who had no interest in any view that didn’t coincide with his own. I liked both of them, even after Jack teasingly called me a “flaming liberal” in front of the class. I can still see his stunned face when I laughed and rebutted his claim by explaining that he had to make a crucial distinction, and that he had to make it right now, because he was confusing the class with his characterization of me as “flaming liberal.” There were, of course, according to the right-wing vernacular of that time, “flaming faggots” and “bleeding heart liberals” but that it was unreasonable to ask someone to embrace both titles.

Jack laughed, realizing that he had been punked. That was the difference between then and now. Back then, you could disagree with someone about politics and playfully tease them. It made the argumentative battlefield a more enjoyable place to discuss issues and, hopefully, to consider other views than your own.

But the truth is, I am neither gay nor a “bleeding heart liberal.”

I am a humanist, something I intuitively knew even as a middle-grader, though I didn’t embrace it as philosophical concept until graduate school when I studied Christian Humanism in the works of the Church Fathers, and then, years later, came across Kurt Vonnegut’s essay on Humanism.

If I refer to Vonnegut off and on in various essays, it’s because he can make sense of an all-too-often nonsensical world in very few words and simple language, and he can do it with humor. Comedians like Dave Chappell, Lewis Black, and John Mulaney also have this gift. I would go so far to say that rather than reading Plato and Aristotle when insomnia rears its ugly head, read the essays and novels of Kurt Vonnegut, or watch the standup comedy routines of Chappell, Black, or Mulaney, or read the fragments from Charles Simic’s notebooks..

All of these guys are not only funny but also profoundly provocative in the way they reveal human behavior.

Here’s Vonnegut’s description of Humanism.

“We humanists,” he says, “try to behave as decently, as fairly, and as honorably as we can without any expectation of rewards or punishments in an afterlife.” In an earlier essay, his description of Humanism becomes even simpler when he quotes his son’s response to the age-old existential question: “What is life all about?” His son, who is a doctor, replies, “Father, we are here to get through this thing together, whatever it is.”

To these simple descriptions of Humanism, I would add what I have shouted from the rooftops to my sons since they have been old enough to process information. “Life,” I say to them, with all the solemnity of a holy man, “is incredibly simple. You work hard and try to be kind and decent to people. Yes, sometimes in spite of your best efforts, you get beat up, but the only other choice is to be cruel and selfish and prosper off the misfortunes of others, and I like to think that no one sleeps well at night acting like that.” After sharing this life-changing wisdom for about the fiftieth time, I usually wait to be lifted onto their shoulders and paraded around the room, believing that all this good karma will jumpstart a cosmic kumbaya moment resonating through time.

I am still waiting.

You are probably wondering how someone my age can be so stupid as to believe in the inherent goodness of people. But then I haven’t told you about the “Pugilistic Footnote” to my speech. “Boys,” I say, after they have reminded me of all the indignities they have suffered over their short lives while trying to be humanists, “you will never lose by being kind and working hard, but sometimes when that doesn’t work, you just have to metaphorically punch someone in the nose.”

Having done rudimentary research on Humanism this morning, I’ve discovered that most people accept the following generalizations:

1) Humanism privileges the importance of human values and dignity.

2) It encourages free thinking without fear of being physically or emotionally harmed.

3) It assumes that human beings can be ethical and moral without religion or a god.

The last tenet is important to many humanists. In his essay on Humanism, Vonnegut mentions Isaac Asimov, who, he informs us, when alive, was the Honorary President of the American Humanist Association. Knowing that most of its members are atheists or agnostics, when Vonnegut spoke at Asimov’s funeral service, he said, “Isaac is up in heaven now,” which was probably the funniest thing you can say to a bunch of atheistic humanists.

But you don’t have to be an atheist to be a humanist.

I’m not.

I’m not sure what’s after this. I’m a cynic and a wise guy, skeptical of anyone who offers panaceas for all that ails us. And yet, contrary to all logic, I do believe there is something after this. I’m not sure what “God” is, but I know something like our traditional view of God, or Buddha, or Mohammed exists if you can clear away all of the weird ways men (and it’s mostly men) have twisted religion for their own purposes.

And if I’m wrong?

So what, it makes me feel better.

I also am convinced that part of being a humanist is being humble enough to believe that there is something bigger than yourself. It’s easier to listen to and to love others when you don’t think you’re the “god” of your world. It also makes it easier to realize your responsibility to those who come after you.

“But how can you be so naïve?” my friend says. “You don’t need that religious mumbo-jumbo life jacket to be a humanist. Do you really believe after you die that you are going to see your wife and sons, and what about those ex-girlfriends who would like to see you castrated?”

“Ouch,” I say.

“And is this God a guy or a woman? How tall is he? Is he portly or built like Aaron Judge? And what about Jesus? How can He be the Son of God when you can’t even describe God to me. Also, you’re obsessed with comedy. The Bible’s about the least humorous book you’ll ever read.”

He has a point there.

“But you have to admit,” I counter. “Jesus was a cool guy.”

“What’s the proof?” he says.

“Jesus was a humanist, too.”

“Give me an example.”

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.”

“What?”

“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the Earth.”

“I’m not following you.”

“Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.”

“Huh?”

And so it goes . . ., as Kurt would say. And so it goes …

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You can find Peter Johnson’s books, along with interviews with him, appearances, and other information at peterjohnsonauthor.com

His most recent book of prose poems is While the Undertaker Sleeps: Collected and New Prose Poems

His most recent book of fiction is Shot: A Novel in Stories

Find out why he is giving away his new book of prose poem/fragments, even though he has a publisher for it, by downloading the PDF from the below link or going to OLD MAN’S homepage. His “Note to the Reader” and “Introduction” at the beginning of the PDF explains it all: Observations from the Edge of the Abyss