Push Polls, Marketing, and Respecting Human Liberty

A couple of months ago, I got a "survey" in the mail from the National Rifle Association.  As a Virginian, they were interested in learning what I had to say, so that my opinions might help them decide…snicker…be reflected in their legislative…snort…I'm sorry.

Can't keep a straight face on that one.  They couldn't have cared less what I thought, because their "survey" wasn't a survey at all.  I used to review social science research proposals in a prior life, and for a survey instrument to have any validity, it needs be written in a way that allows for an objective response.  Meaning, you need to carefully construct the language so it doesn't create a bias in the person  responding.  Otherwise, your results will be skewed, and the data you produce will be unreliable.

That's a problem if you care about gathering information, but the survey I got was not about listening to opinions.  It was about cramming opinions down your throat using manipulative language.  In political parlance, what I got from the NRA was a "push poll," which meant it asked questions like:

1) Do you want fat-cats in Washington to destroy the Constitution and take away your fundamental freedoms so that special interest groups can have their way with the weeping, broken body of Lady Liberty?  (  ) Yes   (  ) No

Um.   Hold on.  Let me think.  This is a toughie.   Maybe…No?

Sure, I have my political opinions.  But I also know when I'm being played.   I found that survey…woefully misdirected to a progressive…remarkably false.  From my progressive predilections, it was easy to cluck knowingly at how effectively this hunk of rotten meat would be consumed by the fearful and the gullible and the true-believers.

Which made it interesting when Friday's mail brought me a "50-State Survey" from the American Civil Liberties Union.  

That ACLU survey began:

"Nationwide, we're seeing a relentless and wide-ranging assault on our fundamental freedoms."

Wait, what?  I think I read that exact same opening sentence in the NRA survey.

It went on, in three sections, entitled, respectively:  1) Defending Freedom in Virginia; 2) Defending Freedom Nationally; and 3) Strategies for Advancing Freedom.

I wish I hadn't sent back the NRA's survey instrument, because Lord have mercy, did that seem familiar.

I got into the questions.

Do I care about the constitutional rights of those who are impacted by discriminatory laws?  Do I care about standing up to extremists who are carrying out an all-out assault on our rights?  Do I care about informing and mobilizing people to strengthen and expand individual liberty in America?  Will you help us confront those seeking to undermine the Constitution and sweep away our fundamental freedoms?

Yikes.  Different hot-buttons, but the same emotionally charged, manipulative language wrapped in a "survey."  And while I agreed with much of what that survey was pushing, I still couldn't help but notice that I was being played.  The ACLU's marketers were using the same push-poll fundraising strategy as the NRA's marketers.

Because the last question, in both surveys, was : "Will you send us money?"

In the context of both the NRA and the ACLU, that bears with it a deep irony that goes well beyond the unfortunate and unnecessary divide between liberals and libertarians.

You cannot claim to serve the cause of liberty if you use manipulative tactics.  Because to serve the liberty of others, you must first respect their integrity as individuals.

Push poll marketing does not show that respect.

The Boundaries of Faith

A week ago, I moseyed on over to a quite lovely meeting of local pastors/religious leaders in the Bethesda area.  It was a reasonably eclectic bunch of folk, drawn primarily from the denominational traditions.  There was Methodist representation, several Presbyterians of different denominations, UCC folk, and a couple of Unitarians.

As we began, the pastor who'd convened us to schmooze and share and support one another noted with regret that he'd tried to get rabbis and imams, too, but had only managed to snag Christians.  To which I thought, but did not say, well...um...there are Unitarians here. 

Unitarians cannot really be accurately described as Christian.  Some are.  But the denomination itself doesn't view itself that way.   I thought it might seem unwelcoming to note that, though, so I let that thought hang in my brain for about half a second, before one of the Unitarians made the point of offering that correction herself.

Self-definition can be such an important part of faith.  Which is why, over the last few weeks, I've followed with some bafflement the case of a teen in North Carolina.  She was booted from school because she has a nose ring, and nose rings violate the local school policy of autocratic conformism.

Her response, which was taken up by the ACLU and apparently has now worked for a local judge, was to say that piercing and body modification were her religion, and by not allowing her to wear a nose ring, the school system was violating her rights to religious expression. 

Note, here, that it isn't that her religion implies that piercing has a particular symbolic significance.  The Church of Body Modification is a non-theistic group that believes that piercing and tatooing and scarification are the goal of human life and self expression.  Oh, and some of them like to hang themselves from the ceiling from hooks in their flesh.   You can check it out at the website of the Church, although, really, ouch.  And ew.  Again, this isn't theistic.  It does not serve to express anything other than the act itself.  They just view doing decorative and/or painful things to their bodies as their life purpose.

So what I gets me to wondering is, well, is it a religion?   Yeah, they're really into it.  But if something has no theistic or transcendent overtones, and no cohesive philosophy other than a shared interest in a particular activity...is it faith?   If it is, why wouldn't some motorcycle clubs be a religion?  If Harley Davidson defines your existence and sense of self-identity, there'd be little difference between that and tattooing and piercing.   If you live to play World of Warcraft, and view it as defining you on some fundamental level, could that be considered a religion?  Could you sue a school system for blocking access to WoW, and thus depriving your of your rights to practice your faith?  I know plenty of folks who'd like to try.

I also wonder that whenever I see atheistic or humanist groups included as part of an interfaith gathering.  Having suggested in past in conversations with atheists that the depth of their convictions is functionally faith, I know that suggestion is not well received.  Yet there are humanist chaplains.  A strange thing.

What are the boundaries of what is and is not faith?  Are there any?