The First Freethought Day
Remarks Delivered at the North Texas Church of Freethought
303 years ago today, a great evil was afoot in this country. In New England: Salem, Massachusetts, specifically. I'm not talking about the evil of witchcraft, of course. I'm talking about the evil of belief in witchcraft: the evil of irrationalism, of superstition: literally "over-standing."
When 1692 began, 303 years ago there, it was too cold and snowy to do much else but sit inside and play at incantations and foretelling of the future. That's what two young girls in the household of the Reverend Samuel Parris did to amuse themselves. And when the two girls began "acting strangely," they were examined by a doctor, and by ministers and magistrates. The experts concluded - that the girls were bewitched.
Apparently not having much else to do either, the good people of Salem, Massachusetts became concerned ...
Hearings into the matter began on March 1st. And less than three months later, 100 people were in prison awaiting trial. The Governor of the colony, one Sir William Phips, appointed a seven member panel to try the accused, who were not allowed counsel. Although initially uncomfortable with "spectral evidence," voices and visions that only the witnesses could perceive, the Christian ministers of the community reassured the authorities that such testimony could be accepted with "exquisite caution."
By September 22nd -just a couple of weeks ago - they didn't have Justice Lance Ito or Johnny Cochran in those days - the judges had tried and convicted 27 people. 19 were hanged. Giles Corey was pressed to death by stones in an effort to get him to confess. His last words were: "more weight!" Another 50 or so people had confessed to witchcraft, 100 were in prison waiting to be tried, and another 200 stood potentially accused.
With the jails overflowing and no end to the frenzy in sight, Cotton Mather delivered a sermon in which he argued against the mass convictions. This emboldened some of the other clergy to begin questioning the reliability of "spectral evidence." And with the public support he needed - the Governor was a politician, after all - William Phips issued an edict on October 12th, 1692 barring the admissibility of such evidence from the courts.
Whereupon the basis for the charges against all the accused became immaterial as well, and the infamous Salem witch trials came to an abrupt end.
It's that edict of October 12th, 1692 that's the basis for Freethought Week, this year falling on October 8-14th. Some other groups around the country will be celebrating the first day of that week - October 8th - as N-Day or "National Proclaim Non-Belief Day." But October 12th is the day of significance.
Some atheists and humanists I've talked to have objected to the business of observing the anniversary of the Phips Edict. They say that all the players in that ugly chapter of American history were mired in religious superstition. And so they were.
That's the beauty of the thing, really. Here you had a bunch of rabid fundamentalists (by our standards - by the standards of the day they were fairly enlightened; Cotton Mather was one of those who supported vaccination, for example) who had gotten in totally over their heads. Terrible things were happening, and it looked as if the worst was yet to come. And so they did the only thing they could do. With the encouragement of the local clergy, Governor Phips banned "spectral evidence" from the courts.
This is important, now: why did he do it? Because suddenly people had realized that there are no witches, no demons, no evil spells and the like? No. He did it - with the complicity of the whole community - they did it - because they had to.
At some level, people simply have to act rationally. You have to open doors before walking through doorways. You have to turn the key in your ignition before you drive home today. No amount of faith and prayer can allow anyone to do otherwise. And despite all the rhetorical flourishes of the superstitious believers, that's the way it's always been and always will be.
That's also the essence of the role of the law: to hold people to a standard of dealing with one another that's based on reason. That's the basis of every shall and shalt not that there is, not some divine command of "do it or else."
That's the beauty of honoring the Phips Edict: it's a forceful example of the dangers of superstition and the necessity of rational thought to a world that's fit for human beings to live in. Instead of a celebration of what some "great man" - or woman - said or did, a man or woman who will necessarily be imperfect, just as we all are and as everything is, Freethought Day (or call it something else if you wish) is a celebration of progress, of choosing the better over the worse. Most importantly, it's a celebration of what we want our fellow humans who happen to be believers to do: to set aside their superstitions in their dealing with others in favor of reason.
Finally, I think any true holiday - and that's how I see October 12th: the day that unbelievers of every stripe should stand together in solidarity for what is most important to us - such a day should be more than paying homage to a person, or even an ideal. It should be a day that carries a message. And the message should be one that exhorts us to do and to be better. And I think Freethought Day does this: because it admonishes us to stop the petty witch-hunts of our everyday lives - by no more complicated an expedient than being reasonable.
What a message: to beware the judgments that we make of others based on the merest snippets of experience with them. To set aside the jumped-to conclusions that we tend to form out of nothing more than our prejudices and preconceptions. To commute the sentences we pass on ourselves and others when someone says or does "the wrong thing," which probably wasn't so much "wrong" as simply not what we expected or wanted.
Let's try to think about how reasonably we're dealing with people in the coming days and weeks. Let's think about giving others the benefit of a doubt more often. Let's think about what's right about what others before thinking about what's wrong about them - and about what they say and do. Let's be reasonable, that's all.
Thank you and Good Morning.
by Dr. Tim Gorski, October 1, 1995
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