Had she thought there was no meaning in life, no purpose, when God had gone? Yes, she had thought that.
"Well, there is now," she said aloud, and again, louder: "There is now!" - from The Amber Spyglas by Philip Pullman
Let me tell you my story.
I was raised a Catholic--baptized, confirmed, the works--and spent my first ten school years, but wound up ditching that and becoming an agnostic-atheistic-moralist. "Pullmanist," if it needs a one-word classification, even though I didn't discover His Dark Materials until two years after my departure from the Church.
I suppose, if I traced it back to the root of the matter, it was Harry Potter that caused me to question the faith--but not in the way the book-burners would think. In fact, it was the book-burners themselves that were the "spark" that started my atheistic blaze. I had heard hintings about such things as the Inquisition and the Crusades during those years, but until I looked it up myself during the months preceding my Confirmation, I hadn't a clue what horrors the Church's history had to tell. I couldn't help but feel decieved: this vital information, this account of religion gone haywire, had been kept secret from me--as if they didn't want me to know anything but the facade of goodness all organized religion claims.
That's when the questioning began. Why would people do this in God's name? I looked at this history, and then I looked at the history of other religions. It was all the same.
So for a time my mind was a maelstrom of questions and the inevitable answers logic provided: the Church was a medium of control and repression, and religion was the excuse for it; there was no proof that a God even existed, nor any way of telling which religion was true if any were; such claims of religions as the infallibility of the Pope and the
inequality of the sexes were absolute codswallop; and, most importantly, the revelation that would change my life forever, that good and evil were not allegience but action, that we don't need God to be good, moral, decent, and responsible people.
So, on the very eve of my Confirmation, I quietly bowed out of Catholicism and religion for good. I allowed myself to be confirmed, because I did not want my parents to know about my change of mind. But from that moment on I was a human wandering a pointless universe.
Because that is what I thought at first, and no wonder! I'd spent my life thinking Heaven this and Hell that--now I saw that death was it, the end, the Great Equalizer of Eternal Blackness, cold, dark, merciless.
And without a Heaven or Hell, I thought, why should I be a moral person? I thought about this for a long time; I clung to my
Christian-derived values like a child to his mother, perhaps because my inner theist was still determined not to give up without a fight. At times I would even wonder whether anything at all was real.
It took me nearly six months of hard thought to come to the conclusion that yes, the universe was pointless without a God, but why does it have to stay that way? Morality and order, I reasoned, were the things that kept humans from tearing each other's throats out, and without them how could anyone live happy and fulfilled lives? For life, point or no point, is a joy, and there is something marvellous about our senses that I had taken for granted until this point: the way we see, all these worldly beauties that defy imagination; the way we smell and taste; the way we touch and feel the world around us; the way we hear, our brains turning
movements in the air into beautiful music...
So that was my point: life. It was as simple as that. All people, whether they believe in a God or not, must live life to the fullest and help others to do the same. We think, therefore we are; we are conscious, therefore we have meaning. It was a form of self-imposed responsibility that I was more that willing to commit to, but I wondered if anyone else would see things my way.
Of course, if it wasn't for my discovery of two years later, I never would have been able to put all that into words, nor would I have tried, for up until that point I had no hope at all that there would be anyone else in the world who believed in goodness for the sake of it, rather than for reward. And I also questioned my own motives: was I being a hypocrite? Was it vanity, the refusal to submit to a higher power? Did I consider myself better than my fellow humans because they needed God to be good and I didn't?
I still wonder that sometimes.
But on to the discovery. It hit me like a ton of bricks, in the form of what is quite possibly the most profoundly moral tale in the history of fantasy literature: His Dark Materials. From the moment I picked up The Golden Compass and scented its bias against theocracy, I knew I would love it. But as I read on--discovering Pullman's reverse theology and the Magisterium, his twisted and Christ-deprived version of the Christian Church, as well as his points on good and evil being action rather than religion, and, to my surprise, Mary Malone's proclamation that there was no point before but "there is now," I slowly realized... here's a man who agrees
with me, who shares my views without knowing he's sharing them... it was never "this is something I agree with," but "this is something that agrees with me," because each and every one of Pullman's points was a conclusion I'd already reached on my lonesome. Even the death of the Authority, how he simply faded into obscurity "with a sigh of the most profound and exhausted relief," mirrored his own "death" in my mind two years before.
After finishing the third book, The Amber Spyglass, I dived back into the real world with renewed purpose and an unprecedented spring in my step. It wasn't impossible for others to think my way--one other person already was, and who knew how many others also did? A vision which had been slowly forming in my mind over the past
two years finally and abruptly took a solid and stable shape, and it was something Philip Pullman had aptly named "the Republic of Heaven."
So here I am, trying to spread my vision of a world where anyone can think or believe anything without other people telling them they can't, as long as they stay within reasonable morality and just legality. But there you have it: I have told you the story of this nameless knight, "fallen from grace" and wandering a world in which meaning must be made, not found.
There was no point before, but there is now.
What is the Republic of Heaven?
Humanity can easily be seen as a spiritual spectrum of sorts.
On the one hand we have the religious folk. These guys don't like to be disagreed with, generally, and want to bring the rest of the world into whatever faith they hold. To religious theocrats, the world will never be pure until everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, chooses their way. Theocracies, in contrast to the real believers, tend to be immoral--whether they know it themselves or not. The "real believers" are the ones who follow their faith and propound their views in peaceful ways. This places them near the middle.
In the middle are the agnostics. These
guys don't know which end they should go to. Generally they maintain their morals.
On the other hand we have the atheists. They don't believe in God, but might have their own set of moral standards, or might even agree with a lot of religious morality (personally, I think Jesus was a visionary). Atheistic moralists are often also agnostic, putting them very near the midpoint of the spectrum. At the very farthest point on this end of the spectrum are the atheistic theocracies; a classic example is the Soviet Union.
The obvious point of the Spiritual Spectrum is that the two theocratic extremes are undesirable if you wish for a peaceful world. The Republic of Heaven is set around the middle of the spectrum, encompassing believers, agnostics, and any atheist who sees a point in life (those that think along the lines of myself and
Philip Pullman).
The Republic, as I see it, is a world in which people live life responsibly and fully, help others to do the same, respect the different beliefs of other people, and, in the case of atheists, act morally and responsibly without hope for reward or fear of punishment.
The metaphorical Republic of Heaven is an ideal of religious harmony and morality. It cannot, because of its democratic nature, ever be considered an organized religion.
There are no set beliefs in the Republic of Heaven, save tolerance, devotion to morality, and an agreement to disagree peacefully. Nothing else is carved in stone. For all the rest, we rely on our own internal alethiometers.
The Golden Compass Says...
Philip Pullman, in the fourth chapter of The Golden Compass, introduces us to his made-up magical object: the alethiometer (pronounced a-leeth-iometer), a, well, golden compass that measures the truth using symbols. The term comes from the Greek word alethia, meaning truth.
According to Pullman's humanist trilogy, the alethiometer is one of many methods of communicating with Dust. Dust, in the book, is an elementary particle of consciousness, curiosity, love, experience, and the like. Dust, according to the story, simply came into being as a by-product of a pointless universe. Dust is his symbol for morals. Thus, the internal alethiometer is our moral compass.
In The Amber Spyglass we learn that it takes an entire lifetime of learning and experience to read the alethiometer. The internal alethiometer is much the same: it is not innate, or innately
understood, but rather constructed and interpreted by experience.
The internal alethiometer of a Christian would be to follow the teachings of Jesus; that of an atheistic moralist would be to simply do the right thing for the heck of it. Both are the same when you boil it down to essentials: people following their sense of right and wrong. The two senses are not identical, but they are close enough to coexist as long as neither infringes the other's human rights. So are all moral religions.
The problem arises when one misreads the alethiometer. This is where self-righteousness and intolerance spring from: thinking that what our internal alethiometers tell us to do is absolute truth that all people need to adhere to, and that those who don't listen to that one alethiometer don't have any right not to. This is the attitude of the Inquisition, of the Crusaders, of the
Puritans (vain as peacocks, that bunch), and of the more overzealous fundamentalists (such as those cheerful Islamic fellows we've been hearing so much about lately). This is what the Republic generally discourages: the natural human urge to control other people.
The Ten Commandments of the Republic of Heaven
These are not laws, but characteristics. A guideline, if you will. All you must do to help build the Republic--whether you know you're building it or not--is to devote yourself to moral values and be tolerant of the different beliefs and lifestyles of other people.
However, these are rules I feel everyone should consider:
I. THOU SHALT CONSIDER THE GOSPELS.
Jesus Christ, whether you believe him to be the Son of God or a simple human, was an alethiometric visionary. He knew quite a bit about
morality and immorality (good and evil, if you want to think of it in those terms). If people listened to many of the things set down in the Gospels, they would be better off. I can't always agree with Jesus, though, myself being atheistic. Hence only "consider" the Gospels rather than "follow" the Gospels. Use your internal alethiometer to decide what's best for you to follow. In the case of Christians, this commandment is better worded "Thou shalt put the Gospels before all other Scripture." If Jesus is the center of your belief, after all, wouldn't it make sense to listen to Him before you listen to the rest of the Bible?
II. THOU SHALT NOT PUT THYSELF BEFORE THY NEIGHBOR.
Sure, survival is imperative, but here we're talking matters of morality. Selfishness and the blind pursuit of pleasure, the Hyde of human consciousness, is
not something you want to repress entirely (for fun is the essence of life), but it is something you should hold back when the golden compass says to. Putting the happiness and welfare of others before your Hyde's desire is the very epitome of morality.
III. THOU SHALT NOT THINK THOU KNOW EVERYTHING.
This is important. Everyone can believe in whatever they want, practice whatever faith they choose, as long as they don't stop another person from exercising the same freedom. However, the question as to how the world came into existence--whether there's a God or even a point--has no answer at present and, let's face it, probably never will. So while you may have faith (or lack thereof), you must not delude yourself into thinking you have knowledge--this is neccesary for the next commandment.
IV. THOU SHALT NOT BE INTOLERANT OF THY NEIGHBOR'S LIFE.
This is simple tolerance, I don't think it needs much explaining. You can disagree with another person, but you cannot infringe on their right to be what they are. Regardless of a person's race, religion, lifestyle, sexual orientation, or what have you, all are equal, in the eyes of the Republic and, if you believe in Him, in the eyes of God. A big part of tolerance is the acknowledgement that the other person's point has just as much validity as your own. This commandment includes tolerance of those who do not accept the idea of the Republic of Heaven--but that doesn't mean they can bump us without being bumped back.
V. THOU SHALT NOT BREAK THE LAW UNLESS IT IS JUSTIFIED.
Without law there can be no order, and without order there can be no Republic. Certain circumstances--a situation that threatens your life or that of another person, for example--justify
the breaking or bending of rules, but otherwise stay within the boundaries of the law. If a law is unjust, you may protest (peacefully--violence only begets more violence, as the saying goes) or else move to another place with a different set of laws. When the laws are just, however, what would you have to lose by adhering to them?
VI. THOU SHALT NOT ABUSE THY POWER.
This is pretty self-explanatory, but I'll spell this out plainly: this goes out to ALL people with ANY kind of power, governmental or religious. The Republic does not exclude organized religion, after all--only the ones that infringe on people's rights.
VII. THOU SHALT NOT BURN BOOKS.
I have a feeling all the Potterheads and Pullmanites of the world will love this one. This is both literal and metaphorical; there is more than one way to burn a book. This commandment covers actual
book-burning and any kind of censorship. The suppression of ideas is one of the things the Republic generally abhors, because it goes against basic principles of human freedom.
VIII. THOU SHALT NOT CEASE IN STRIVING TO LEARN THY CRAFT.
I confess, I filched this one from Ceres Wunderkind's "Ten Commandments of His Dark Materials Fan Fiction." The craft that was referring to was writing; but this is referring to two things at once, neither of which involves putting pen to paper. The first is internal alethiometry: you cannot stop learning how to read your moral compass, because there is no end to learning it. A person could live for all of eternity and never learn all there is to know about what the golden compass says. The second "craft" is life itself. You will never know all there is to
know about life and living until, of course, you've stopped living entirely. It is important to keep learning about life for the sake of ourselves, for others, and for future generations. Life, after all, is what the Republic of Heaven is all about.
IX. THOU SHALT NOT MISS THE POINT.
"Point?" Well, this is one that needs explaining. The point is different for everyone. Largely this has to do with whether a person is religious or not. But what this commandment means, "thou shalt not miss the point," means that you can't see no point in life. You can't be nihilist, in other words. You can't live in moral anarchy. Can't figure out what the point is? It's really quite simple. Life. That's it. The only reason you really need to live is life itself. And part of that point involves the countless other people and creatures that also inhabit
this world. The point is to live life to the fullest, and to do everything in your power to help others to do the same: pleasure and responsibility don't have to be mutually exclusive. There may not have been a point to existence before humans became conscious and learned the capacity for good and evil, but now that we have that capacity, there's plenty of point. We're out of excuses to break this one.
X. THOU SHALT PROPOUND THY VIEWS RESPECTFULLY, OR ELSE HOLD THY PEACE.
Ever seen MuggleNet.Com's Wall of Shame? Ever had your e-mail account engulfed in flames because you dared question the ESRB rating of an obviously pornographic videogame? If you have, then you know where I'm coming from. Anger and obscenity in putting forth one's ideas and responses to other ideas not only prove one's own immaturity and inability to properly read their internal
alethiometer, it makes their viewpoint look very bad. This ties into the whole "tolerance" theme of the Republic--so, you see, a Republic of flamers would be a Republic of Hypocrites.
A Call to Arms: Become a Knight of the Republic!
This is an ideal, true. But ideals are only as impossible as people think they are. If we all work at it, we really can build the Republic of Heaven.
The only requirements are summed up at the end of Philip Pullman's The Amber Spyglass:
"That's why we needed our full life, Pan. We would have gone with Will and Kirjava, wouldn't we? But then we wouldn't have been able to build it. No one could if they put themselves first. We have to be all those difficult things like cheerful and kind and curious and patient, and we've got to study and think and work hard, all of us, in all our different worlds, and then we'll build.... The Republic of Heaven." - Lyra Belacqua
So what do we have to do to build the Republic? Simple: spread the word! Become a knight! Adapt the beliefs of tolerance and morals to your own beliefs--Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, Wicca, atheism, whatever you are! Use the modern miracles of e-mail, send letters to newspapers, risk a letter to the President of the United States if you want to--do it in whatever way tickles your fancy, but for goodness' sake be peaceful and respectful about it! Present the ideal of the Republic to others of any faith; if they decide to join and in turn help to build the Republic by becoming knights themselves, another brick has been laid in the foundation of this earthly heaven. If they reject the Republic, do not think any the worse of them or scorn them for it; just
move on to someone else.
The Republic of Heaven will grow slowly. The more people there are that take it to heart and spread the word, the more quickly it will grow.
So what say you? Will you help build the Republic? Will you become a knight? Please take the time to think it over. I truely believe that the Republic of Heaven is the key to a more peaceful world.
