Connecting Reason and Faith on a Social Media Platform

Iconic Silicon Valley companies currently confront a credibility crisis of motive and trust. Helping spread fake news and propaganda, turning users into lab rats, mining personal data through addictive apps, stashing away billions of dollars in off-shore tax havens as disclosed by the Paradise Papers, suggest that under the veneer of connecting all and doing no harm, something more sinister is brewing in these Internet juggernauts.

Recent data reveal that on Facebook alone, as many as 126 million Americans were exposed to fake news stories during the 2016 U.S. presidential election, eroding our democracy. Russian operatives also created close to 3,000 fake Twitter accounts and over 1,100 videos on 18 Google channels. During a recent Congressional hearing, Senator Dianne Feinstein bluntly told representatives of Facebook, Google and Twitter: “You bear this responsibility. You’ve created these platforms.”

Americans are souring on tech titans who symbolize Silicon Valley and its increasingly questionable ethos. Not only are they accumulating wealth and power at an exponential rate, they are turning their companies into monopolies to silence discordant opinions and diminish, if not destroy, diversity.

Allow me to focus on Facebook. 

As the social media leader with over 2 billion active monthly users worldwide, can the tech giant remove our fears and restore our trust in the company, even if partially?

In his commencement address at Harvard this year, CEO Mark Zuckerberg expanded his company’s mission to include ‘three ways to create a world where everyone has a sense of purpose: by taking on meaningful projects together, by redefining equality so everyone has the freedom to pursue purpose, and by building communities across the world.” Zuckerberg defined purpose as “that sense that we are part of something bigger than ourselves, that we are needed, that we have something better ahead to work for.”

In other words, it’s not only about connecting all of humanity, it’s infusing these connections with a sense of purpose. Who can argue with that? The problem is that noble mission statements can often mask fiercer motives, especially when a company develops a global reach.

Yet it is plausible that the idea of purpose can transform the way we connect with one another in the virtual world.

Imagine that Facebook creates a platform that connects proponents of reason and faith, two ancient antagonists that have caused much sorrow in the world.

Let me clarify what I mean in a specific context: Silicon Valley.

According to a 2010 survey (the numbers could have only gone up since then) there are over 450 churches, synagogues, mosques and temples in the Santa Clara County alone, serving over 40% of the Valley’s 2 million population. The remaining 60% includes not only atheists but also those with complicated relationship to their faiths, particularly millennials who shun organized religion and pray in their own way but not in traditional places of worship.

If such a platform were created, could that be an example of the kind of meaningful project Zuckerberg envisions? Perhaps. After all, meaning, purpose and transcendence can flow from both the secular and the sacred. Any connection between the two can not only inspire fresh views on, say, stem-cell research and global warming but also deepen our understanding of how love, justice, suffering and forgiveness shape human affairs.

At the same time, we must also note that faith and reason can coexist within the same person. 

Perhaps no one exemplified this as persuasively as physicist Charles Townes (1915-2015). An article he wrote half-a-century ago in the IBM journal “Think” provides insights into the evolving nature of relationship between science and religion. After building the case that the two shared fundamental similarities - revelation in one is epiphany in another, for instance – Townes concluded that the two will eventually converge. “I believe,” he wrote in 1966 in The Convergence of Science and Religion, “this confluence is inevitable. For they both represent man’s efforts to understand his universe and must ultimately be dealing with the same substance.”

A devout Christian, Townes was one of the greatest scientists of the twentieth-century, winning the Nobel Prize in physics in 1964 for inventing the maser and the laser. He tempered his idea of convergence: “Perhaps by the time this convergence occurs, science will have been through a number of revolutions as striking as those which have occurred in the last century, and taken on a character not readily recognizable by scientists of today. Perhaps our religious understanding will also have seen progress and change. But converge they must, and through this should come new strength for both.”

Can Facebook facilitate this convergence in some way? It's difficult to say but what is clear is that this dialogue in the age of social media will not happen through staged spectacles between well-known cerebral atheists like Richard Dawkins and prominent theologians. It can only happen when practitioners of reason and faith can explore the connection between the two in a spirit of humor, humility and curiosity.

Even if a social media platform makes the flow of ideas between proponents of reason and faith easier, including those who see no conflict between the two, it does not mean it will remove our suspicion of Facebook, or of Amazon, Google or Apple, companies that are also vying for global domination, particularly when the call for regulation and antitrust probes against the Big Four is gaining steam in the Valley and beyond.

But it’s a start. The unexplored region between technology and faith beckons people with open minds seeking rational and spiritual truths. Done right, it may even be that algorithms will someday lead to epiphanies and clicks to catharsis.

Holiday Giving

Mark Zuckerberg’s recent $500 million donation in Facebook stocks to the Silicon Valley Community Foundation created a stir in the world of philanthropy. The Facebook co-founder was following up on his pledge to donate half his wealth to charity as part of the “Giving Pledge” campaign inspired and promoted by billionaires Bill Gates and Warren Buffet.

Reading about mega-donations by billionaires can cause the average American to suffer from some kind of an inferiority complex. After all, in these difficult times, many Americans will be hard-pressed to come up with a $500-dollar donation to worthy causes.

A perspective comes from Ted Turner. Fifteen years ago, in September of 1997, the billionaire Cable News Network founder made a “spur of the moment” gift of $1 billion to the United Nations for programs to help refugees and children, clear land mines and fight disease. It was the gift that launched not a thousand gifts but several high-profile multi-million and billion-dollar gifts from entrepreneurs like Bill Gates, Warren Buffet and now, Mark Zuckerberg.

Talking recently to the New York Times columnist Nicholas Kristof, Turner said that people should not be overwhelmed or intimidated by the dollar amount donated by the rich. “You don’t have to have any money to make a difference; you can pick up trash walking down the street, and I do that all the time,” he said. “You can volunteer your time. You can be a big brother or a big sister.”

This is a deeply moving and practical dvice. The key words are “making a difference.” After all, anytime we donate even a dollar, we fervently hope that it will have the maximum impact for good in the recipient. The most common mistake we make is to think that unless our charity is a hefty amount quantifiable in dollars or pounds or euros, it will not make a difference, even though, intellectually at least, we know better. This is the unfortunate byproduct of minds brought up in a capitalistic environment. But hearing a capitalist like Ted Turner extolling charitable acts rather than dollars offers a much-needed reminder. Notice also the example Turner gives about doing something while walking down the street. Most often we think that removing thorns (or nails or sharp objects) from the path of pedestrians is the only worthwhile act of charity we can do. Not so. Pick up any trash. Sweep or gather fallen leaves in bags. Clear a neighbor’s driveway of snow. Smile at strangers. There are hundreds of acts of charity you and I can do simply by walking a few blocks in our neighborhoods. By being alert and observing what others are doing can also open up creative ideas for charity.

A few months ago, while stopping by to pick up some toiletries from my local pharmacy, located in a mini shopping center packed with restaurants, a bank, a fitness center, a dentist’s office and the quintessential Starbucks, I noticed an old man poking into the various garbage bins with a stick. As I watched, I realized he was looking for recyclable cans and bottles. Every time he located one, his face broke into a triumphant smile. His bag was about half-full with the collection.

When I came home, I collected all the bottles and cans I was going to dump in the neighborhood recycle center. Like everyone else, I have been doing this for years but I had no way of knowing where all these “capitalistic wastes” were going and exactly how they were being recycled. But now I had found a greater purpose for them.

Two nights later, around 8 PM, I waited for the old man at the same spot. I had almost given up when, about 45 minutes later, I saw him begin his round at the dumpster behind the bank. He walked slowly and patiently. I had time to read the sign nailed into the outer wall of the pharmacy: “No skateboarding. No Trespassing. Violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”

When he came around, I offered him my collection. He seemed stunned for a moment and then thanked me profusely. “Not at all,” was all I could mumble as I quickly left. I was already feeling guilty in thinking that I was engaging in an act of charity.

I now see the old man once a week. We don’t talk much although I want to tell him the privilege is entirely mine when he looks me in the eye and says simply, “thank you.”

I am sure you have all seen someone at a gas station or a shopping center intent on making something out of the bottles and cans we carelessly toss away. We are talking at most a few dollars here but just the act of gathering your recyclable stuff and handing them over to a particular person isn’t something that can be quantified. Thank God for that. Do it and see how it transforms you and spills over into other areas of charitable and holiday giving.

Eliminating Desire

“Eliminating Desire” is the perplexing personal interest Mark Zuckerberg lists on his Facebook page. The Facebook founder has become an Internet icon as the number of users of his social network, already more than 550 million, approaches a billion. The company got tons of publicity when Zuckerberg was selected as TIME magazine’s 2010 person of the year. Facebook overtook Google as the most visited site in the U.S. in the past year, a phenomenon unthinkable only a few months ago.

But back to that desire thing.

In an interview, Zuckerberg explained: “I just want to focus on what we’re doing … I think it would be very easy to get distracted and get caught up in short-term things or material things that don’t matter. The phrase is actually ‘Eliminating desire for all that doesn’t really matter.’”

Now, whether history will judge Facebook to have been a transformational or a frivolous innovation is unclear. But that intriguing, enigmatic sentence bears reflection: “Eliminating desire for all that doesn’t really matter.”

The idea of what matters and what doesn’t is, of course, unique to each of us, shaped by faith, culture, passion, inclination. To a technologist like Zuckerberg, connecting people across the globe in a seamless digital network is probably all that matters. Everything else is peripheral. To a scholar, seeking knowledge, and adding to it if possible, is paramount. To a writer, unlocking the mysteries of the human heart is the point. And so it goes.

But then, desires find a way of weaving themselves into our goals and the effect is to scatter focus, as a prism scatters light.

One such desire is more like distraction but it has become so overpowering in our times that it is indistinguishable from what we call addiction, which is desire running rampant. It is our constant need for digital stimuli, one of its chief architects being, ironically, Mark Zuckerberg.

Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, iPhone, YouTube, Texting, Email – such are the mind and time-sucking vortex of the Web, and many of us plunge headlong into it from the moment we wake up until a few hours of nightly shut-eye. (What some of us would give to dispense with sleep if that were possible!) Work is now in our pockets, literally, keeping us in a 24x7 state of connection.

But this state of affairs is also what makes Zuckerberg’s statement all the more intriguing. Here is a 26-year-old billionaire who has the means to fulfill any desire that glides into his mind, yet he is singularly focused on his goal. And while his goal may be to create an even more seductive vortex, we must give him credit for resisting desires that afflict most of us – more stuff, more money, more vacation, more everything.

The summit of all desires is, of course, the desire for “things.” Very few of us resist the siren call of materialism. If my neighbor has a 50” TV, why, I must have the biggest HDTV in the market. If he drives a Cadillac, I must drive a Mercedes. If his home has eight rooms, mine must have at least twelve. And if there is no one in sight who can compete with me in possessions or power, does it mean that I can rest? No! Like a shark, I must be constantly moving, even if it means to remain at the same spot.

The unbridled acquisitive instinct that lies dormant when the means aren’t there but blooms instantly when they are, is what causes so much despair and heartbreak. Wise travelers inform us time and again of seeing people in distant lands, whom we regard as dwelling in adversity, who get more out of life’s simple joys – family, friendship (real, not virtual), community, nature – than affluent people living in mansions and surrounded by stuff but surviving on Prozac and therapy. Yet all of us who engage in materialism in one form or another know that the charm of new purchases - a car, a pair of shoes, a watch – wears down in days, until we get the next new “thing” in a deadening cycle of diminishing sensitivity.

So, how to eliminate desire for “all that doesn’t really matter”?

Sometimes it is forced on us, as the Great Recession did, and continues to do. Many Americans have discovered that giving away stuff – clothes, gadgets, cars – and living with less clutter makes life more meaningful. Millionaires have discovered that instead of fretting about the first million begetting the next, they can lead a more satisfying life on, say, $40,000 a year. (Americans living below the poverty line will consider that a sign of affluence). It is no wonder that the top word that we searched for in 2010, according to Merriam-Webster, was “austerity.”

But reflecting on life’s purpose can also have a salutary effect. What exactly do we want out of life? Is it to be the envy of our neighbors, the toast of our societies? Is it to dazzle others with our knowledge, to make lesser mortals tremble with our power? Is it to climb the greasy pole of success on the backs of others? All these desires have shallow roots, however worthy they may appear. Perhaps it will dawn on us, if we can be alone with our thoughts, that happiness often flows from outlasting our impulses.

A man is rich in proportion to the number of things he can afford to let alone, said Thoreau. It is an insight we should put to use as we welcome a new year.

The Muslim scholar Al-Harith bin Asad al-Muhasibi (165 A.H – 243 A.H) left us with this instruction for achieving our dreams: “You will not achieve what you want unless you give up what you desire, and you will never achieve your dreams until you are patient with what you hate.”