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Or can we? Perhaps this point of disagreement is the continental divide in Opinion Space, between those who think our best hope is to try to nail the lid on Pandora’s box and keep ourselves forever ignorant, and those who think that this is politically impossible and immoral in the first place. The former already pay a heavy price for their self-imposed factual poverty: they can’t imagine in detail the consequences of their own chosen policy. Can they not see that nothing short of a police state, bristling with laws prohibiting inquiry and the dissemination of knowledge, or the sequestration of the population in a windowless world, could accomplish the feat? Is that really what they want? Do they think that they have methods undreamt of by the conservative mullahs for halting the inexorable flow of liberating information to their flock? Think ahead.

There is a trap here lying in wait of those without foresight. Perhaps no parents are immune to a twinge of regret when they see the first evidence of loss of innocence in their child, and the urge to shelter a child from the tawdry world is strong, but reflection should show anybody that it just won’t work. We need to let our children grow up to face the world armed with knowledge, with much more knowledge than we ourselves had at their age. It is scary, but the alternative is worse.

There are some people—millions, apparently—who proudly declare that they do not have to foresee the consequences: they know in their hearts that this is the right path, whatever the details. Since Judgment Day is just around the corner, there is no reason to plan for the future. If you are one of these, here is what I hope will be a sobering reflection: have you considered that you are perhaps being irresponsible? You would willingly risk not only the lives and future well-being of your loved ones, but also the lives and future well-being of all the rest of us, without hesitation, without due diligence, guided by one revelation or another, a conviction that you have no good way of checking for soundness. “Every prudent man dealeth with knowledge: but a fool layeth open his folly” (Proverbs 13:16). Yes, I know, the Bible has a contrary text as welclass="underline" “For it is written, I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and will bring to nothing the understanding of the prudent” (1 Corinthians 1:19). Anybody can quote the Bible to prove anything, which is why you ought to worry about being overconfident.

Do you ever ask yourself: What if I’m wrong? Of course there is a large crowd of others around you who share your conviction, and this distributes—and, alas, dilutes—the responsibility, so, if you ever get a chance to breathe a word of regret, you will have a handy excuse: you got swept up by a crowd of enthusiasts. But surely you have noticed a troubling fact. History gives us many examples of large crowds of deluded people egging one another on down the primrose path to perdition. How can you be so sure you’re not part of such a group? I for one am not in awe of your faith. I am appalled by your arrogance, by your unreasonable certainty that you have all the answers. I wonder if any believers in the End Times will have the intellectual honesty and courage to read this book through.

What we dimly imagine in dreaded anticipation often turns out to be much worse than reality. Before we lament our inability to hold back the rising tide of information, we should consider its likely consequences calmly. They may not be so bad. Imagine, if you can, that we had never had the Santa Claus myth at all, that Christmas was just another Christian feast, like Palm Sunday or Pentecost, celebrated but barely anticipated in the wide world. And imagine that the fans of J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter stories were to attempt to start a new tradition: every year, on the anniversary of the publication date of the first Harry Potter book, children shall receive gifts from Harry Potter, who flies in through the window on his magic broomstick, accompanied by his owl. Let’s make Harry Potter Day a worldwide day for children! Toy manufacturers (and Rowling’s publishers) would all be in favor, presumably, but imagine the doomsayers who would oppose it:

What a terrible idea! Think of the traumatic effects on young children when they learn, as they eventually would, that their innocence and trust had been exploited by a gigantic public conspiracy of grown-ups. The psychic and social toll of such a massive deception would be cynicism, despair, paranoia, and grief that might cripple children for life. Could there be anything more evil than deliberately concocting a seductive set of lies to spread to our children? They will hate us bitterly, and we will deserve their fury.

Had this quite compelling concern been effectively raised in the early days of the evolving Santa Claus mythology, it might well have prevented the Great Santa Claus Catastrophe of 1985! But we know better. There was no such catastrophe and never will be. Some children do suffer relatively brief bouts of embarrassment and bitterness on learning that there is no Santa Claus, but others take delicious pride in their Sherlock Holmes triumph of detection, and relish their new status among Those in the Know, eagerly contributing to the ruse next year, and soberly answering all the innocent questions put to them by their younger siblings.

So far as we know, 3 the Santa Claus disillusionment does no harm. More to the point, it is likely (but not yet investigated, to the best of my knowledge) that part of the enduring appeal of the Santa Claus myth is that adults, who can no longer directly experience the innocent joys of Santa-anticipation, settle for the vicarious thrill of enjoying their children’s excitement. People do go to a great deal of effort and expense to perpetuate the Santa Claus mythology. Why? Are they trying to recapture the lost innocence of childhood? Are they more directly motivated by their own gratification than by generosity? Or are the pleasures of conspiracy with community absolution (untarnished by the guilt that accompanies the conspiracies of adultery, embezzlement, or tax evasion, for example) enough on their own to pay for the substantial costs? Such impertinent ways of thinking will loom large in subsequent chapters, when we turn to the more upsetting questions about why religion is so popular. They are not rhetorical questions. They can be answered, if we try.

I appreciate that many readers will be profoundly distrustful of the tack I am taking here. They will see me as just another liberal professor trying to cajole them out of some of their convictions, and they are dead right about that—that’s what I am, and that’s exactly what I’m trying to do. Why, then, should they pay any attention? They are appalled by the moral decay they see on all sides, and are sincerely convinced that the protection of their religion from all inquiry and criticism is the best way to turn the tide. I wholeheartedly agree with them that there is a moral crisis, and that nothing is more important than working together on finding paths out of our current dilemmas, but I think I have a better way. Prove it, they will say. Let me try, I respond. That’s what this book is about, and I ask them to try to read it with an open mind.

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Chapter 2 Religion is not out-of-bounds to science, in spite of propaganda to the contrary from a variety of sources. Moreover, scientific inquiry is needed to inform our most momentous political decisions. There is risk and even pain involved, but it would be irresponsible to use that as an excuse for ignorance.

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Chapter 3 If we want to know why we value the things we love, we need to delve into the evolutionary history of the planet, uncovering the forces and constraints that have generated the glorious array of things we treasure. Religion is not exempt from this survey, and we can sketch out a variety of promising avenues for further research, while coming to understand how we can achieve a perspective on our own inquiries that all can share, regardless of their different creeds.