A New Method of Dealing with Idiocy: When All Else Fails, Get Childish

http://youtu.be/Oju_lpqa6Ug?t=9m1s

The video above is from a BBC Three series where a comedian takes a selection of morons (of numerous persuasions, UFO, 7/7, 9/11 conspiracy freaks and the like) for a road trip which attempts to conclusively prove that they believe in nonsense. This particular clip (between around 9 and 11 minutes on the video) addresses the downright bizarre creationist belief that the Grand Canyon was formed by a single flood (the one with Noah and the over-encumbered ark). The topic isn’t really relevant; it’s just an example of a perfectly logical argument being entirely unsuccessful in spite of its simplicity, clarity and the overwhelming supporting evidence.

To show the group why the canyon’s Horseshoe Bend couldn’t have been formed by one flood, he gets a bucket of water and lets the main proponent of this idea pour it across some sand. The “flood” water carves into the sand, creating a deep, straight “canyon” and sending water (as you might have imagined) directly away from the source. The bend in the canyon is literally “U” shaped, so the group is left explaining how god decided to just change the laws of nature that one time.

In situations like this, I’m always left feeling sorry for the rational person desperately trying to show the particular blockhead why they’re wrong. They’re stuck arguing with somebody intent of pissing directly into the fierce wind of common sense and supporting evidence. Try as they may – piling evidence on top of evidence and debunking on top of debunking – the person on the other end absolutely refuses to accept that they must be wrong.

There is very little that can be done because evidence, logic and reality don’t matter to most people who believe in nonsense. There are some rational people who hold silly beliefs, but when you conclusively prove them wrong they change their minds. They might put up an argument for a while, but they eventually realise they’re wrong. When this isn’t happening, you’re left either repeating yourself or finding a way to bring the debate to an end before you lose all hope for humanity.

I have a new suggestion for people who find themselves in situations like this. Simply act like a bit of a dick. My personal favourite is the over-emphasised “DUUUHHHRRR,” with the tongue pushing the lower lip out and your wrists bent unnaturally – just like in school playgrounds all across the country. It isn’t constructive and it isn’t helpful; it’s just funny.

I envision a crack-team of scientists with sarcasm running through their veins, cutting through bullshit with a joyous chorus of downright insulting noises and childish jokes. Anybody who believes in ghosts would be dealt with as if they thought the earth is flat and people who visit psychics and mediums would be mocked as if they were trying to cure brain cancer using snake oil and a rigorous schedule of Dr. Kawashima’s Brain Training.

Brian Cox is a good real-world example. After offending some astrologers by saying the practice was “nonsense,” he went on to clarify: “I apologise to the astrology community for not making myself clear. I should have said that this New Age drivel is undermining the very fabric of our civilization.” Much more grown up than my suggestion, I’ll admit, but the principle is the same: after conclusively proving that the person is ignoring any arguments or pieces of evidence which run contrary to their opinions, the situation is ripe for silliness, insults and mockery.

Selfishness Dressed as Altruism

Image courtesy of Stuart Miles/FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I have something of a confession to make. After spending an evening draining pints and loading up on carcinogens, a breast cancer charity collector came up to our table, shaking a bucket and muttering something about canvassing for donations. Around the table, my friends dutifully looked down and fumbled through their pockets, either preparing to contribute or feigning being out of change. Without thinking, I looked up to her and said (sarcastically, I might add), “I haven’t been personally affected by breast cancer, so I don’t really care.”

She left without collecting a single donation.

The fact that I said that out loud rather than thinking something more reasonable is obviously down to my rank intoxication at the time, but I do stand by the point I was attempting to make. Nobody likes being guilted into donating money to a serious cause when they’re trying to have a good time, but the thing that really annoyed me was her. She was imposing this guilt on us, and I assumed that she cared enough to do so because she knows or knew somebody with breast cancer.

I know that it wasn’t necessarily the case (and obviously people can and do campaign for issues that have never affected them), but the fact that she haughtily retreated rather than arguing with me seems like something of a confirmation. To me, giving money to or working for a charity because somebody you know has been affected by the issue is more self-interested than altruistic. Breast cancer didn’t spontaneously pop up in half a million people like a mutant jack in the box at the moment your aunt was diagnosed, but somehow it wasn’t important enough to do anything about until then.

Had I been sober (and armed with statistics) I’d have asked her why she wasn’t raising donations for the 33.4 million people living with HIV around the world, or for coronary heart disease (which tops all other diseases for deaths in the UK). Numbers don’t lie, and since 2000 it’s taken considerably more people than breast cancer. In 2010, just over 129 people died from coronary heart disease per 100,000 population compared to just under 37 per 100,000 women for breast cancer. Likewise, lung cancer, cerebrovascular disease and even pneumonia kill more people every year than breast cancer.

University of Kent researcher Beth Breeze’s study on the reasons people give to charity supports the idea that charitable donations are not based on the level of need, “but rather [people] support causes that mean something to them.” Although this should balance out (bigger problems affect more people and therefore receive more donations), the moral superiority people feel for donating to a cause is completely misplaced if they’ve been personally affected by it. In that moment, the woman thought I was one of the most despicable people on the face of the planet, but she was being blinded by her own hypocrisy.

It’s selfish giving because what they’re doing is trying to lessen their own suffering. If you have an infection, you can take a course of antibiotics and you’ll start to feel better. But if you get a condition that can’t be cured or comfortably managed, there isn't much action you can realistically take. As primitive survival instincts kick in, you go into “fight” mode, but the predator you’re dealing with doesn’t have a body to brutalise or a secret military compound to bomb into oblivion. Research is the way we fight these predators, and that means the only thing a regular person can do to lessen their own suffering is to canvas for donations. If there was a pill for it, they’d take it and blissfully ignore all the people in poverty-stricken countries dying from the same problem.

The reason I come off looking like a drunken prick in that situation is because charity is “good,” in essence. She’s doing a good thing by raising money for breast cancer, and only an abhorrent, inhuman ogre would point out that she’s just dressing selfishness up to look like altruism.