Me:
This is such an interesting piece about perspectives and our emotional 
investment to them.  And it points out how vulnerable to the same emotional 
attachment to ideas both believers and non believers are.  There is something 
in this for everyone:



Sam:
It seems to me that many nonbelievers have forgotten—or never knew—what it is 
like to suffer an unhappy collision with scientific rationality. We are open to 
good evidence and sound argument as a matter of principle, and are generally 
willing to follow wherever they may lead. Certain of us have made careers out 
of bemoaning the failure of religious people to adopt this same attitude.

However, I recently stumbled upon an example of secular intransigence that may 
give readers a sense of how religious people feel when their beliefs are 
criticized. It's not a perfect analogy, as you will see, but the rigorous 
research I've conducted at dinner parties suggests that it is worth thinking 
about. We can call the phenomenon "the fireplace delusion."

On a cold night, most people consider a well-tended fire to be one of the more 
wholesome pleasures that humanity has produced. A fire, burning safely within 
the confines of a fireplace or a woodstove, is a visible and tangible source of 
comfort to us. We love everything about it: the warmth, the beauty of its 
flames, and—unless one is allergic to smoke—the smell that it imparts to the 
surrounding air.

I am sorry to say that if you feel this way about a wood fire, you are not only 
wrong but dangerously misguided. I mean to seriously convince you of this—so 
you can consider it in part a public service announcement—but please keep in 
mind that I am drawing an analogy. I want you to be sensitive to how you feel, 
and to notice the resistance you begin to muster as you consider what I have to 
say.

Because wood is among the most natural substances on earth, and its use as a 
fuel is universal, most people imagine that burning wood must be a perfectly 
benign thing to do. Breathing winter air scented by wood smoke seems utterly 
unlike puffing on a cigarette or inhaling the exhaust from a passing truck. But 
this is an illusion.

Here is what we know from a scientific point of view: There is no amount of 
wood smoke that is good to breathe. It is at least as bad for you as cigarette 
smoke, and probably much worse. (One study found it to be 30 times more potent 
a carcinogen.) The smoke from an ordinary wood fire contains hundreds of 
compounds known to be carcinogenic, mutagenic, teratogenic, and irritating to 
the respiratory system. Most of the particles generated by burning wood are 
smaller than one micron—a size believed to be most damaging to our lungs. In 
fact, these particles are so fine that they can evade our mucociliary defenses 
and travel directly into the bloodstream, posing a risk to the heart. Particles 
this size also resist gravitational settling, remaining airborne for weeks at a 
time.

Once they have exited your chimney, the toxic gases (e.g. benzene) and 
particles that make up smoke freely pass back into your home and into the homes 
of others. (Research shows that nearly 70 percent of chimney smoke reenters 
nearby buildings.) Children who live in homes with active fireplaces or 
woodstoves, or in areas where wood burning is common, suffer a higher incidence 
of asthma, cough, bronchitis, nocturnal awakening, and compromised lung 
function. Among adults, wood burning is associated with more-frequent emergency 
room visits and hospital admissions for respiratory illness, along with 
increased mortality from heart attacks. The inhalation of wood smoke, even at 
relatively low levels, alters pulmonary immune function, leading to a greater 
susceptibility to colds, flus, and other respiratory infections. All these 
effects are borne disproportionately by children and the elderly.

The unhappy truth about burning wood has been scientifically established to a 
moral certainty: That nice, cozy fire in your fireplace is bad for you. It is 
bad for your children. It is bad for your neighbors and their children. Burning 
wood is also completely unnecessary, because in the developed world we 
invariably have better and cleaner alternatives for heating our homes. If you 
are burning wood in the United States, Europe, Australia, or any other 
developed nation, you are most likely doing so recreationally—and the 
persistence of this habit is a major source of air pollution in cities 
throughout the world. In fact, wood smoke often contributes more harmful 
particulates to urban air than any other source.

In the developing world, the burning of solid fuel in the home is a genuine 
scourge, second only to poor sanitation as an environmental health risk. In 
2000, the World Health Organization estimated that it caused nearly 2 million 
premature deaths each year—considerably more than were caused by traffic 
accidents.

I suspect that many of you have already begun to marshal counterarguments of a 
sort that will be familiar to anyone who has debated the validity and 
usefulness of religion. Here is one: Human beings have warmed themselves around 
fires for tens of thousands of years, and this practice was instrumental in our 
survival as a species. Without fire there would be no material culture. Nothing 
is more natural to us than burning wood to stay warm.

True enough. But many other things are just as natural—such as dying at the 
ripe old age of thirty. Dying in childbirth is eminently natural, as is 
premature death from scores of diseases that are now preventable. Getting eaten 
by a lion or a bear is also your birthright—or would be, but for the protective 
artifice of civilization—and becoming a meal for a larger carnivore would 
connect you to the deep history of our species as surely as the pleasures of 
the hearth ever could. For nearly two centuries the divide between what is 
natural—and all the needless misery that entails—and what is good has been 
growing. Breathing the fumes issuing from your neighbor's chimney, or from your 
own, now falls on the wrong side of that divide.

The case against burning wood is every bit as clear as the case against smoking 
cigarettes. Indeed, it is even clearer, because when you light a fire, you 
needlessly poison the air that everyone around you for miles must breathe. Even 
if you reject every intrusion of the "nanny state," you should agree that the 
recreational burning of wood is unethical and should be illegal, especially in 
urban areas. By lighting a fire, you are creating pollution that you cannot 
dispose. It might be the clearest day of the year, but burn a sufficient 
quantity of wood and the air in the vicinity of your home will resemble a bad 
day in Beijing. Your neighbors should not have to pay the cost of this archaic 
behavior of yours. And there is no way they can transfer this cost to you in a 
way that would preserve their interests. Therefore, even libertarians should be 
willing to pass a law prohibiting the recreational burning of wood in favor of 
cleaner alternatives (like gas).

I have discovered that when I make this case, even to highly intelligent and 
health-conscious men and women, a psychological truth quickly becomes as 
visible as a pair of clenched fists: They do not want to believe any of it. 
Most people I meet want to live in a world in which wood smoke is harmless. 
Indeed, they seem committed to living in such a world, regardless of the facts. 
To try to convince them that burning wood is harmful—and has always been so—is 
somehow offensive. The ritual of burning wood is simply too comforting and too 
familiar to be reconsidered, its consolation so ancient and ubiquitous that it 
has to be benign. The alternative—burning gas over fake logs—seems a sacrilege.

And yet, the reality of our situation is scientifically unambiguous: If you 
care about your family's health and that of your neighbors, the sight of a 
glowing hearth should be about as comforting as the sight of a diesel engine 
idling in your living room. It is time to break the spell and burn gas—or burn 
nothing at all.

Of course, if you are anything like my friends, you will refuse to believe 
this. And that should give you some sense of what we are up against whenever we 
confront religion.

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