2021/2/9, Tue.

　「たとえば、あまり政治にかかわらずに生きることをわたしは望んでいる。わたしは政治的主体でありたくない、という意味だ。だがそれは、数多くの政治の対象でありたい、ということではない。ところが、政治の対象か、主体か、のどちらかでなければならないのだ。ほかの選択の余地はない。どちらでもないとか、あるいは両方である、というのは論外だ。したがって、どうしても政治にかかわらねばならないようだし、どの程度にかかわるかをわたしが決める権利すらない。そういうわけで、わが全生涯を政治にささげることや、さらには政治の犠牲になることさえも、大いにありうるのだ」（『ブレヒトの政治・社会論』より[訳注52: 『ベルトルト・ブレヒトの仕事1　ブレヒトの政治・社会論』、野村修訳、河出書房新社、一九七二年、六三ページ]）。

　彼の場所（彼の〈環境〉）、それは言語活動である。その場所でこそ、彼は選びとったり拒絶したりする。そこでこそ、彼の身体に〈できたり〉あるいは〈できなかったり〉するのだ。言語生活を政治的な言述にささげる、というのはどうか。彼は、政治的な〈主体〉であってもいいと思うが、政治的な〈発信者〉にはなりたくないと思う（発信者とは、滔々と演説し、いいかげんなことを言い、同時に自分の言述を人に通知して、それに署名する人のことだ）。また、彼は自分の全般的な〈何度もくりかえした〉言述から政治的現実を引き離すことができないので、政治的なことがらを自分の書くものから排除してしまっている。とはいえ、この排除行為を、すくなくとも彼は自分が書くものの〈政治的な〉意義とすることはできるのだ。あたかも彼がひとつの矛盾の歴史的証人であるかのようにするのである。〈繊細で、貪欲で、沈黙した〉（これらの語を切り離してはならない）政治的な主体、という矛盾の証人である。

　くりかえされて、一般に広がり、疲弊してゆくのは、政治的な言述だけではない。どこかで言述の変異形が生まれると、それを抑えこむ公式ラテン語聖書が定められ、よどんだ文章が追随して、うんざりする行列がつづいてゆく。このようなありふれた現象が、政治的言述のこととなると、彼にはとりわけ耐えがたく思われる。くりかえされることで〈やりすぎだ〉という様相を呈するからである。つまり、政治的言述は、自分こそが現実についての根本的な知識であると思わせてくるので、わたしたちは政治的言述にたいして幻想をいだき、最終的な力をあたえてしまうのである。言語活動を抑えつけて、いかなる無駄話さえも現実の残滓にしてしまう、といった力を。したがって、政治的言述がさまざまな言語活動のなかに入りこんで、「おしゃべり」になっていることを、どうして嘆くことなしに容認したりできるであろうか。
　（石川美子訳『ロラン・バルトによるロラン・バルト』（みすず書房、二〇一八年）、64～66; 「ブレヒトからR・Bへの非難（Reproche de Brecht à R.B.）」）


  • 一〇時半頃に覚醒。ここ数日はとにかく脚を揉みほぐしまくっているので、起床時もからだはかなり軽い。やはり脚全体をマッサージするのが、肉体の基本的コンディションを調えるには一番だと再実感した。したがって、ベッドで寝転がりながら書見をする時間を多く取れば、それだけからだも楽になるし、読み物もはかどるので一石二鳥だ。陽を浴びながら、いつもどおりしばらくこめかみを揉んだりして、一一時に離床した。洗面所に行き、洗顔とともに数回だけうがいをする。それからトイレに入って尿を捨て、もどると瞑想。良い感じのゆるさ、自然さで座れている。とにかくじっとしていれば感覚は勝手になめらかになる。南直哉が座禅が深まると自分が光の粒子だか波だか、そんなような振動だけの存在になる、とどこかで言っていたのだけれど、それがわからないでもない。身体全体がそうなるところまでは行っていないが、今日だったら腹から胸にかけてのあたりなど、本当に何もないような、空白の軽さになった。そこだけ身体が消えたような感じ。これが全身にひろがると、そのときはたしかに呼吸と思念だけの存在になったように感じられると思う。
  • 一九分で切り上げて上階へ。ジャージに着替える。陽の色濃くただよう南窓の外では、梅の木のてっぺんにヒヨドリが一羽とまっていた。着替えながらその様子をちょっとながめたが、あたりを見回しているだけで鳴きも飛びもせず。食事には卵を焼き、丼の米に乗せ、みずみずしい歪球形を保たせた黄身を醤油とともにぐちゃぐちゃ混ぜて食す。すぐに食べ終わったので新聞はほぼ読まず。読売文学賞の俳句部門を受賞した池田澄子というひとについての記事だけちょっと読んだ。「じゃんけんで負けて蛍に生まれたの」という句が有名らしく、あれ好きですとよく言われるけれど、でもずっと前、昭和につくった句だからねえ、と苦笑してしまう、みたいなことを言っていた。たしか八四歳とあった気がする。現代俳句や短歌のたぐいも面白そうだ。小説もそうだが、やはり本当は同時代を生きている同国のひとの言葉も読まなければならないだろう。
  • 皿洗いと風呂洗いを済ませて、緑茶を淹れて帰室。Notionを用意すると、今日ははじめに音読をした。一日の活動の最初に音読をする習慣が良いのではないかという気がしている。なぜ良いのかよくわからないが、やはりなんとなく、意識がはっきり締まり、言語野が温まるような感じはする。また、ありふれた比喩ではあるけれど、書かれた言葉を声に出して読んでいると、たしかに食べる、取りこむというような感じもあり、食事で空腹を満たしたときと似たような満足感を精神が得るような気もする。今日は「英語」を読んだ。途中、排泄のために上階のトイレに行って数分中断したが（そのとき、買い出しに行ってきた母親が買ってきたものを冷蔵庫におさめておいた）、一二時一四分から一時半過ぎまで。項目番号で言うと一四一から二一〇まで読んでいるから、けっこう頑張った。
  • それからベッドに移ってだらだらしながらコンピューターで英語のウェブ記事を読む。GuardianとBBC。なぜかイギリスにかたむきがち。下の二記事である。BBCの宗教にかんする記事は、そんなに深く突っこんだ話はしておらず、一般的な状況のわかりやすい整理といった感じだが、なぜかとても面白く感じられた。宗教の話は面白い。ただ、思ったよりも長かったのでこのときは途中まで。三時一五分までで切り。

Enrique Tarrio, the leader of the Proud Boys extremist group, has a past as an informer for federal and local law enforcement, repeatedly working undercover for investigators after he was arrested in 2012, according to a former prosecutor and a transcript of a 2014 federal court proceeding obtained by Reuters.

In the Miami hearing, a federal prosecutor, a Federal Bureau of Investigation agent and Tarrio’s own lawyer described his undercover work and said he had helped authorities prosecute more than a dozen people in various cases involving drugs, gambling and human smuggling.

　　　　　＊

Law enforcement officials and the court transcript contradict Tarrio’s denial. In a statement to Reuters, the former federal prosecutor in Tarrio’s case, Vanessa Singh Johannes, confirmed that “he cooperated with local and federal law enforcement, to aid in the prosecution of those running other, separate criminal enterprises, ranging from running marijuana grow houses in Miami to operating pharmaceutical fraud schemes”.

　　　　　＊

Washington police arrested Tarrio in early January when he arrived in the city two days before the Capitol Hill riot. He was charged with possessing two high-capacity rifle magazines, and burning a Black Lives Matter banner during a December demonstration by supporters of Donald Trump. The DC superior court ordered him to leave the city pending a court date in June.

Though Tarrio did not take part in the Capitol insurrection, at least five Proud Boys members have been charged in the riot. The FBI previously said Tarrio’s earlier arrest was an effort to pre-empt the events of 6 January.

　　　　　＊

There is no evidence Tarrio has cooperated with authorities since then. In interviews with Reuters, however, he said that before rallies in various cities, he would let police departments know of the Proud Boys’ plans. It is unclear if this was actually the case. He said he stopped this coordination after 12 December because the DC police had cracked down on the group.

Tarrio on Tuesday acknowledged that his fraud sentence was reduced, from 30 months to 16 months, but insisted that leniency was provided only because he and his co-defendants helped investigators “clear up” questions about his own case. He said he never helped investigate others.

　　　　　＊

The Proud Boys, founded in 2016, began as a group protesting against political correctness and perceived constraints on masculinity. It grew into a group with distinctive colors of yellow and black that embraced street fighting. In September their profile soared when Trump called on them to “Stand back and stand by.”

Tarrio, based in Miami, became the national chairman of the group in 2018.

Before Mohammed, before Jesus, before Buddha, there was Zoroaster. Some 3,500 years ago, in Bronze Age Iran, he had a vision of the one supreme God. A thousand years later, Zoroastrianism, the world’s first great monotheistic religion, was the official faith of the mighty Persian Empire, its fire temples attended by millions of adherents. A thousand years after that, the empire collapsed, and the followers of Zoroaster were persecuted and converted to the new faith of their conquerors, Islam.

　　　　　＊

Even today’s dominant religions have continually evolved throughout history. Early Christianity, for example, was a truly broad church: ancient documents include yarns about Jesus’ family life and testaments to the nobility of Judas. It took three centuries for the Christian church to consolidate around a canon of scriptures – and then in 1054 it split into the Eastern Orthodox and Catholic churches. Since then, Christianity has continued both to grow and to splinter into ever more disparate groups, from silent Quakers to snake-handling Pentecostalists.

　　　　　＊

If religions have changed so dramatically in the past, how might they change in the future? Is there any substance to the claim that belief in gods and deities will die out altogether? And as our civilisation and its technologies become increasingly complex, could entirely new forms of worship emerge? (Find out what it would mean if AI developed a "soul".)

To answer these questions, a good starting point is to ask: why do we have religion in the first place?

One notorious answer comes from Voltaire, the 18th Century French polymath, who wrote: “If God did not exist, it would be necessary to invent him.”Because Voltaire was a trenchant critic of organised religion, this quip is often quoted cynically. But in fact, he was being perfectly sincere. He was arguing that belief in God is necessary for society to function, even if he didn’t approve of the monopoly the church held over that belief.

Many modern students of religion agree. The broad idea that a shared faith serves the needs of a society is known as the functionalist view of religion. There are many functionalist hypotheses, from the idea that religion is the “opium of the masses”, used by the powerful to control the poor, to the proposal that faith supports the abstract intellectualism required for science and law. One recurring theme is social cohesion: religion brings together a community, who might then form a hunting party, raise a temple or support a political party.

　　　　　＊

Under this argument, any religion that does endure has to offer its adherents tangible benefits. Christianity, for example, was just one of many religious movements that came and mostly went during the course of the Roman Empire. According to Wood, it was set apart by its ethos of caring for the sick – meaning more Christians survived outbreaks of disease than pagan Romans. Islam, too, initially attracted followers by emphasising honour, humility and charity – qualities which were not endemic in turbulent 7th-Century Arabia. (Read about the "light triad" traits that can make you a good person.)

Given this, we might expect the form that religion takes to follow the function it plays in a particular society – or as Voltaire might have put it, that different societies will invent the particular gods they need. Conversely, we might expect similar societies to have similar religions, even if they have developed in isolation. And there is some evidence for that – although when it comes to religion, there are always exceptions to any rule.

Hunter-gatherers, for example, tend to believe that all objects – whether animal, vegetable or mineral – have supernatural aspects (animism) and that the world is imbued with supernatural forces (animatism). These must be understood and respected; human morality generally doesn’t figure significantly. This worldview makes sense for groups too small to need abstract codes of conduct, but who must know their environment intimately. (An exception: Shinto, an ancient animist religion, is still widely practised in hyper-modern Japan.)

At the other end of the spectrum, the teeming societies of the West are at least nominally faithful to religions in which a single watchful, all-powerful god lays down, and sometimes enforces, moral instructions: Yahweh, Christ and Allah. The psychologist Ara Norenzayan argues it was belief in these “Big Gods” that allowed the formation of societies made up of large numbers of strangers. Whether that belief constitutes cause or effect has recently been disputed, but the upshot is that sharing a faith allows people to co-exist (relatively) peacefully. The knowledge that Big God is watching makes sure we behave ourselves.

Or at least, it did. Today, many of our societies are huge and multicultural: adherents of many faiths co-exist with each other – and with a growing number of people who say they have no religion at all. We obey laws made and enforced by governments, not by God. Secularism is on the rise, with science providing tools to understand and shape the world.

Given all that, there’s a growing consensus that the future of religion is that it has no future.

　　　　　＊

Powerful intellectual and political currents have driven this proposition since the early 20th Century. Sociologists argued that the march of science was leading to the “disenchantment” of society: supernatural answers to the big questions were no longer felt to be needed. Communist states like Soviet Russia and China adopted atheism as state policy and frowned on even private religious expression. In 1968, the eminent sociologist Peter Berger told the New York Times that by “the 21st Century, religious believers are likely to be found only in small sects, huddled together to resist a worldwide secular culture”.

Now that we’re actually in the 21st Century, Berger’s view remains an article of faith for many secularists – although Berger himself recanted in the 1990s. His successors are emboldened by surveys showing that in many countries, increasing numbers of people are saying they have no religion. That’s most true in rich, stable countries like Sweden and Japan, but also, perhaps more surprisingly, in places like Latin America and the Arab world. Even in the US, long a conspicuous exception to the axiom that richer countries are more secular, the number of “nones” has been rising sharply. In the 2018 General Social Survey of US attitudes, “no religion” became the single largest group, edging out evangelical Christians.

Despite this, religion is not disappearing on a global scale – at least in terms of numbers. In 2015, the Pew Research Center modelled the future of the world’s great religions based on demographics, migration and conversion. Far from a precipitous decline in religiosity, it predicted a modest increase in believers, from 84% of the world’s population today to 87% in 2050. Muslims would grow in number to match Christians, while the number unaffiliated with any religion would decline slightly.

The pattern Pew predicted was of “the secularising West and the rapidly growing rest”. Religion will continue to grow in economically and socially insecure places like much of sub-Saharan Africa – and to decline where they are stable. That chimes with what we know about the deep-seated psychological and neurological drivers of belief. When life is tough or disaster strikes, religion seems to provide a bulwark of psychological (and sometimes practical) support. In a landmark study, people directly affected by the 2011 earthquake in Christchurch, New Zealand became significantly more religious than other New Zealanders, who became marginally less religious.

　　　　　＊

We also need to be careful when interpreting what people mean by “no religion”. “Nones” may be disinterested in organised religion, but that doesn’t mean they are militantly atheist. In 1994, the sociologist Grace Davie classified people according to whether they belonged to a religious group and/or believed in a religious position. The traditionally religious both belonged and believed; hardcore atheists did neither. Then there are those who belong but don’t believe – parents attending church to get a place for their child at a faith school, perhaps. And, finally, there are those who believe in something, but don’t belong to any group.

The research suggests that the last two groups are significant. The Understanding Unbelief project at the University of Kent in the UK is conducting a three-year, six-nation survey of attitudes among those who say they don’t believe God exists (“atheists”) and those who don’t think it’s possible to know if God exists (“agnostics”). In interim results released in May 2019, the researchers found that few unbelievers actually identify themselves by these labels, with significant minorities opting for a religious identity.

What’s more, around three-quarters of atheists and nine out of 10 agnostics are open to the existence of supernatural phenomena, including everything from astrology to supernatural beings and life after death. Unbelievers “exhibit significant diversity both within, and between, different countries.

Accordingly, there are very many ways of being an unbeliever”, the report concluded – including, notably, the dating-website cliche “spiritual, but not religious”. Like many cliches, it’s rooted in truth. But what does it actually mean?

　　　　　＊

In 2005, Linda Woodhead wrote The Spiritual Revolution, in which she described an intensive study of belief in the British town of Kendal. Woodhead and her co-author found that people were rapidly turning away from organised religion, with its emphasis on fitting into an established order of things, towards practices designed to accentuate and foster individuals’ own sense of who they are. If the town’s Christian churches did not embrace this shift, they concluded, congregations would dwindle into irrelevance while self-guided practices would become the mainstream in a “spiritual revolution”.

Today, Woodhead says that revolution has taken place – and not just in Kendal. Organised religion is waning in the UK, with no real end in sight. “Religions do well, and always have done, when they are subjectively convincing – when you have the sense that God is working for you,” says Woodhead, now professor of sociology of religion at the University of Lancaster in the UK.

In poorer societies, you might pray for good fortune or a stable job. The “prosperity gospel” is central to several of America’s megachurches, whose congregations are often dominated by economically insecure congregations. But if your basic needs are well catered for, you are more likely to be seeking fulfilment and meaning. Traditional religion is failing to deliver on this, particularly where doctrine clashes with moral convictions that arise from secular society – on gender equality, say.

　　　　　＊

What do these self-directed religions look like? One approach is syncretism, the “pick and mix” approach of combining traditions and practices that often results from the mixing of cultures. Many religions have syncretistic elements, although over time they are assimilated and become unremarkable. Festivals like Christmas and Easter, for example, have archaic pagan elements, while daily practice for many people in China involves a mixture of Mahayana Buddhism, Taoism and Confucianism. The joins are easier to see in relatively young religions, such as Vodoun or Rastafarianism.

An alternative is to streamline. New religious movements often seek to preserve the central tenets of an older religion while stripping it of trappings that may have become stifling or old-fashioned. In the West, one form this takes is for humanists to rework religious motifs: there have been attempts to rewrite the Bible without any supernatural elements, calls for the construction of “atheist temples” dedicated to contemplation. And the “Sunday Assembly” aims to recreate the atmosphere of a lively church service without reference to God. But without the deep roots of traditional religions, these can struggle: the Sunday Assembly, after initial rapid expansion, is now reportedly struggling to keep up its momentum.

But Woodhead thinks the religions that might emerge from the current turmoil will have much deeper roots. The first generation of spiritual revolutionaries, coming of age in the 1960s and 1970s, were optimistic and universalist in outlook, happy to take inspiration from faiths around the world. Their grandchildren, however, are growing up in a world of geopolitical stresses and socioeconomic angst; they are more likely to hark back to supposedly simpler times. “There is a pull away from global universality to local identities,” says Woodhead.

“It’s really important that they’re your gods, they weren’t just made up.”

In the European context, this sets the stage for a resurgence of interest in paganism. Reinventing half-forgotten “native” traditions allows the expression of modern concerns while retaining the patina of age. Paganism also often features divinities that are more like diffuse forces than anthropomorphic gods; that allows people to focus on issues they feel sympathetic towards without having to make a leap of faith to supernatural deities.

In Iceland, for example, the small but fast-growing Ásatrú faith has no particular doctrine beyond somewhat arch celebrations of Old Norse customs and mythology, but has been active on social and ecological issues. Similar movements exist across Europe, such as Druidry in the UK. Not all are liberally inclined. Some are motivated by a desire to return to what they see as conservative “traditional” values – leading in some cases to clashes over the validity of opposing beliefs.

　　　　　＊

So the nones mostly represent not atheists, nor even secularists, but a mixture of “apatheists” – people who simply don’t care about religion – and practitioners of what you might call “disorganised religion”. While the world religions are likely to persist and evolve for the foreseeable future, we might for the rest of this century see an efflorescence of relatively small religions jostling to break out among these groups. But if Big Gods and shared faiths are key to social cohesion, what happens without them?

One answer, of course, is that we simply get on with our lives. Munificent economies, good government, solid education and effective rule of law can ensure that we rub along happily without any kind of religious framework. And indeed, some of the societies with the highest proportions of non-believers are among the most secure and harmonious on Earth.

What remains debatable, however, is whether they can afford to be irreligious because they have strong secular institutions – or whether being secular has helped them achieve social stability. Religionists say even secular institutions have religious roots: civil legal systems, for example, codify ideas about justice based on social norms established by religions. The likes of the New Atheists, on the other hand, argue that religion amounts to little more than superstition, and abandoning it will enable societies to improve their lot more effectively.

  • それからコンピューターをデスクにもどし、上記二記事のノートをつくって引用を写しておいたり、「英語」記事にコピー・ペーストしておいた部分を読み返しておぼえたい単語の意味を付記しておくなど。そうするうちに四時に至ったので、上階へ。両親は居間のテーブルにならんで腰掛け、茶と煎餅でも取ったところらしい。こちらはアイロン掛けをはじめた。父親がスマートフォンでニュースを見たらしく、（……）は四人だと言う。こちらも朝刊の地域面でチェックしていた。東京都全体だと一日の感染者数はここのところは連日一〇〇〇人を下回っており、五〇〇人くらいまでに落ちてきているが、そのわりに、我が（……）はいまだ毎日地味に、すこしずつだがカウントされていて、なかなかゼロの日があらわれない。緊急事態宣言が出る以前はだいたい一～三程度の増加で、ゼロの日もあったのだが。それで、（……）、学校閉鎖だってと職場で入手した情報を告げた。父親は追ってニュースを調べたらしく、生徒一人が陽性との記事をキャッチしていたようだが、昨日聞いた話では、生徒だけでなく、教師か保護者か忘れたけれど大人にも陽性者が出ているということだったはずだ。
  • エプロンやシャツやハンカチをたくさん処理。母親の赤いエプロンをかけているとき、その布地の襞のこまかくひかえめな起伏が砂丘めいて映り、生きてきていままで砂漠っていう土地に行ったことがないなと思った。日本人に行く機会などほぼないだろう。砂漠が出てくる書物としてまず思い出されるのは著名な『星の王子様』。ほか、ル・クレジオが自分のルーツにかんするモロッコの砂漠地帯を訪れる本を相当昔に読んだことがあったはず。『雲のひとびと』だったか？　それくらいしか思い起こされない。サン＝テグジュペリはけっこう前から読み返したいとは思っていて、倉橋由美子訳の『星の王子さま』を持っており、光文社古典新訳文庫の『ちいさな王子』も以前は持っていたのだが、これは売ってしまったような記憶がある。おなじく古典新訳文庫の『夜間飛行』は残してあり、これをなんとなく読み返したい。あと、たぶん新潮文庫だったように思うが、堀口大學訳の『人間の土地』もある。しかし、みすず書房で出ている全集だか著作集だかのなかの、『戦時の記録』みたいなシリーズにより興味がある。たしか手紙とかをまとめたやつで、頭がおかしくなった二〇一八年中に図書館で借りて一度読もうと思ったのだが、文の意味が全然入ってこなくてあきらめたのだった。
  • その後、台所へ。流し台に散らかっていた洗い物を始末し、米を新しく磨いだ。コンロのほうでは、先日の天麩羅で余った衣をもちいたお好み焼きみたいなものがじわじわと焼かれている。あとはナメコの味噌汁がもうできており、のちに餃子を焼くというので、やることもあまりなさそうだったので自室に下がった。Gary Clark Jr.『Gary Clark Jr. Live』を流しつつ、今日のことをまずここまで記述。
  • この日にかんしても、休日だったし、ほかにとりたてて印象に残っていることはない。Jonathan Batisteというピアニストを探ってAmazon Musicでちょっと聞いたくらい。最近人気のようで、なんとかいう番組の音楽リーダーみたいな立場をつとめており、何の雑誌だったか忘れたが世界に影響をあたえている何人、みたいな特集にも選ばれたとか。The Jonathan Batiste Trio『Live In New York: At The Rubin Museum of Art』というやつをひとつには流したが、これは立川のHMVで昔たびたび見かけてちょっと気になっていた音源だった。二〇歳かそのくらいのときの演奏らしい。悪くはなかった。