Is orthodoxy carbon-neutral?

Officially, according to guardian.co.uk's terms of use, I can't reproduce the article here (even for non-commercial ops). Oh hell, here it is anyway, you never know how long it'll be available for at http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/andrewbrown/2009/feb/25/religion-christianity, and rationalization of religious customs (like burning vs stoning people and sacred cows) always makes for great discussion:

It is good to know that two bishops are undertaking a "Carbon fast" which will require them to turn off their computers every night, rather than leaving them on standby.

Unfortunately, I am not very good at piety and it made me wonder, in a rather irreverent way, about the the environmental consequences of burning heretics. Is orthodoxy carbon-neutral? It turns out to be quite difficult to calculate this. Cremation is less green than burying people, but this is partly a result of the attempts that crematoria now make to avoid pollution, which requires burning the bodies at very high temperatures.

But an auto-da-fe does not need to be nearly as hot as a modern crematorium. The purpose of the fire is not to reduce the heretic to ashes, but to impress the onlookers with the horror of the crime. But even at these lower temperatures it seems at least as environmentally sinful as a barbecue and we know we are meant to be giving those up, too.

Perhaps the greenest religion ever developed was that of the Aztecs, who kiled their victims with stone knives. In fact their entire way of life has been analysed from an ecological point of view by the late anthropologist Marvin Harris, who concluded that human sacrifice was an ecological necessity for an urban civilisation in central Mexico. So far as I know, they did not sacrifice heretics, only enemy prisoners, but you can see how heresy was discouraged by the practice all the same.

It is a commonplace of anti-Aztec propaganda that the hearts of the sacrificial victims were offered to the gods, after being cut, still beating, from their bodies. This was a waste, and would of course have required fuel for the sacrificial pyres. But Harris was the first man to ask what happened to the rest of the prisoners; and he concluded that their bodies were also cooked, and then eaten. Central America had very few native domesticable sources of animal protein – only birds and dogs, in fact. So the meat from these vast temple sacrifices would have made a noticeable difference to the soldiers lucky enough to be fed. By the same token it would have increased their zeal in battle very considerably. To be taken prisoner really was a fate worse than most other deaths. You can see how the system could become self-perpetuating.

Harris is rather out of fashion now: he analysed all sorts of religious taboos as disguised ecological rules: the sacredness of cow, he thought, was an expression of the fact that the farmer who eats his bullock in a famine year might as well be dead, since when the rains come he will be unable to plough.

Similarly, the taboo on pork in Judaism and Islam makes sense in the Middle East, where the pig is a bad ecological bargain.

Obviously, if you are a true believer, this kind of explanation will be unsatisfactory. It's also unsatisfactory if you are the kind of rationalist who wants all religions and all superstitions to be equally ridiculous and unscientific. And it offends, finally, people like me who dislike the idea that religious practice can be explained away or reduced to anything else.

None the less, the link between religion and ecology is worth thinking about. One of the things that all religions have are prohibitions which have to be obeyed "just because". Heresy is shunned not because it is rationally wrong, but because it is heretical. But these attitudes aren't confined to religion. Nor could they be, because they are indispensable for any large scale social organisation. If everyone stops to question everything, nothing gets done. What religions do, to some extent, is to internalise social disciplines so that they come to seem morally binding and quite impossible to analyse coldly. We're going to need that kind of social discipline to cope with the shrinking resources of the world.

Actually fiddling around to discover the precise carbon footprint of everything we do is absurdly time consuming and in any case unlikely to come up with the right answer. In this sense, environmentalism is indeed a religion, though one without any defined supernaturalist dogmas. Trust in authority, whether Pope Benedict or George Monbiot, is the only way we can hope to link the greater rationality of wanting to preserve humanity with the rationality of the small scale decisions we make all the time about how to live. Of course it is absurd. But so are all the alternatives; and they are worse.

from http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/andrewbrown/2009/feb/25/religion-christianity