tales from urban dilettantia

The last couple of weeks have been rather a hive of political activity.

I suppose everyone’s seen the WikiLeaks / CollateralMurder.com news unless they’ve been off-planet for the Easter break. I’m not sure I can add anything by commenting on this; it speaks – poignantly and heartbreakingly – for itself.

Malcolm Turnbull announced on Tuesday that he won’t be running in the coming Federal Election, and interestingly first released the news on Twitter. I respected him, appreciated the direction in which he attempted to steer conservative Australia, and I’m genuinely sorry to see him go. Later in the day, Nationals MP, Kay Hull, announced she wouldn’t be contesting the 2010 election either, a decision that may shake things up a little if the Libs start eyeing her seat of Riverina.

In state politics over in Tasmania, the hung parliamant saga goes on. And on. While Labor on ten seats appear keen to handball the ordeal of minority government over to the Libs (also on ten), the Tassie Greens are using their five seats to broker a power-sharing agreement. Meanwhile, the whole mess will fall into the lap of Tasmania’s Governor, and I will rant angrily yet predictably about the monarchy after a few drinks down at the pub. Interestingly, this peculiar situation isn’t an entirely unprecedented one; anyone remember the 1989 Tasmanian Election and its aftermath, or are we all too young?

Running a little ahead of Australia, the Brits have called their general election. Gordon Brown is playing the middle-class card for all he’s worth, and the Greens have fielded the largest number of candidates in the party’s history. For anyone interested in following the action, The Guardian are running a very comprehensive, live-updating site. (I found out today that the Home Office has granted my citizenship application, but of course as a non-resident I’m not eligible to vote.)

Possum over at Crikey has written a good piece on politicking, bad statistics and immigration: Net Arrivals

And finally there’s been much said recently on the topic of the institutionalised protection of child sex offenders by the Catholic Church. Michael Nugent from Athiest Ireland posted a critical analysis of Ratzinger’s apology a couple of weeks ago on his blog. As an ex-Catholic, and indeed as a human being, this is a topic that fills me with a cold, cold rage, and it impresses me to see someone with the capacity write so rationally and analytically on the subject, rather than mirroring the vitriolic rant to which I would be inclined to descend.

This weekend was one of new things, and one in particular – although not a great leap in itself – was a significant departure from my usual state of being, in that I got me some religion.

Actually that’s a complete misrepresentation.

What actually happened was that, after several years of contemplating the idea, I took myself along to the local Quaker meeting.

Quakerism has an interesting and theologically complex past, and because it’s not heavily invested in having spiritual leaders nor a single ‘truth’, has been participated in and shaped by people with a broad range of beliefs.

The Wikipedia article does a reasonable job discussing the society’s historical connections to the anti-war, women’s rights and anti-slavery movements, but is written from a point of view that leans towards the Christian and mystical. With a little more digging, though, I found that the society has had sub-groups advocating the inclusion of non-mystics, pantheists, skeptics, non-Christians, humanists and athiests for hundreds of years. (And no-one’s been disowned as a heretic for it since 1873!) Indeed, there are modern Quakers writing about this now, and even coming up with some interesting survey results:

“Are there many who would be interested in a religion that does not necessarily involve the supernatural? Yes, there are a great many. There are even members and attenders among us now who are suffering in silence because their views could create discord in their meetings. These closeted Friends need your support.”
(http://www.nontheistfriends.org/article/are-atheists-included-under-the-quf-umbrella/)

“In 1996, Ben Pink Dandelion asked 692 British Friends if they believed in God, and 26% answered ‘No’ or ‘Not sure.’”
(http://www.nontheistfriends.org/article/roots-and-flowers-of-quaker-nontheism/)

I read on the Australian website about some of the shared values held by members (peace, simplicity, integrity, equality and earthcare) and decided to email and ask whether I would be welcome to attend a meeting as a non-Christian and atheist. The national secretary mailed me back to say ‘absolutely’, and so on Sunday (feeling very shy) I went along to the meeting, not knowing what to expect.

And you know what? It was a really good experience. The silent meetings create a welcoming communal space to mediate and reflect, and the people there were gently welcoming without being overwhelming. After the meeting, I stayed for a cup of tea and spoke to a friendly elderly woman about Catholic education, picked up a copy of Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged from the book exchange and met an English woman of around my age who cheerfully declared her atheism and told me that no-one there expected me to become anything different from what I already was. (Which is a whole lot of philosophical diversity to pack into twenty minutes, when you think about it.)

I chose to show up simply because I was curious, but I’m very willing to go along again. The people I met were the sort who are interested in practical kindness and social justice (for instance, one woman was collecting old mobile phones to send to an organisation in Indonesia that helps street kids set up small businesses), and I’ve always found that I’m much better at making time to meditate and be centered when I have some sort of structured time for it.

It’s always heartening to find more people out there who are on a path of tolerance, diversity, compassion and non-violence; two thumbs up to the Mount Lawley Quakers for choosing to make their little corner of the world an ethical and thoughtful place.