I believe

Last week, if you live in Australia and respect the importance of quinquennially collating accurate data on the socio-economic statuses of the populace, you filled out the census. Essentially it’s a way for the government to keep track of how and where the people of Australia are living their lives, with how much money and where that money is coming from.

Despite the amount of joking that surrounds some of the questions and the chance we all have to alter our lives on paper to suit some misguided sense of imagination or humour, I treat the census fairly seriously. The census is used to allocate funding and refine our government’s understanding of who their people are. I suspect. I’m not completely sure, it may still be a waste of time and paper.

Regardless, I take it seriously.

But amidst the standard bricks and mortar questions of locality, employment, affluence and living arrangements, there is one question that made me think a little harder. Not about my answer, but about the question’s general purpose within the overall gathering of information. Right there, between investigations of ancestry and special needs, sits question 19:

What is the person’s religion?

After casually marking ‘no religion’ I got to thinking – what concrete information can the census gatherers possibly glean from question 19? Remember, this isn’t a shopping centre survey or audience questionnaire, this is a government document that (hopefully) informs political thought for the next five years. The scientist in me would like to think the conclusions it draws would be based on the cleanest of data.

The question in question* has no follow-up as many others do – nothing about frequency of observance, how the person came to follow this faith, whether they have a social community within their religious life or if it is a solitary pursuit etc. The question is even listed as optional – the only one of it’s kind on the form.

So why question 19?

I can understand the theory – asking people to align themselves with a formalised religion is an easy way to identify what the majority of the populace believes. Great theory, but what about those who identify as a particular faith by descent but are lapsed in practice? Or those who only observe a portion of their faith’s precepts and practices?

And what about all those who opt not to answer? Or answer with a pop culture reference**? Or those who, like me, identify with no formal religion? Do we then get ignored when the government considers the importance of religious organisations in allocating resources? Or is the census office of the understanding that without a religious group to identify with, I effectively don’t believe anything?

Because I do. Many things.

While I have always envied the faith other people have in divine beings and heavenly otherworlds, I believe the mask of organised religion has been responsible for more unnecessary pain and destruction than any other organisation in the history of mankind. This is not to say I believe all religion is bad, just that some people are.

I also believe that atheists can be as narrowminded, stubborn and offensive as religious people when attacking another person’s belief structure. I believe if people breathed deeply and thought before making every statement, many would find much less in the religious debate that was truly worth arguing about.

I believe that an inability to explain the impossible or prove the immaterial is not an argument either for or against anything - there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

I believe there is a Shakespeare quotation for every situation.

I believe in free speech and in free thought, that revolution need not be violent, and that theatre has the potential to change the world. I believe that no people should fear their government and no government should fear their people. I believe that fear leads to anger, anger to hate and hate to suffering.

I believe that, despite a grammatical speech impediment, Yoda knew what he was talking abouI believe that we are all connected, whether we are conscious of it or not, and the more we become aware of each other energetically the closer we will come to living in a global community with peace and understanding.

I believe love is the great equaliser, that regardless of country, colour or creed we all love in the same way, and that if everyone acted out of love there would be no need for war.

I believe no art is safe – the very act of expressing an idea, whatever the medium, is the greatest risk a person can take. I believe we should take more risks.

I believe we all have greatness within us – it may be in leading a nation, in healing the sick, in throwing a ball at an object or in selling bread, the pursuit of greatness is worthy of the greatest respect.

I believe perfection is unattainable and immaterial.

I believe the great depths of tragedy are necessary to give our joys greater significance.

I believe in so much that is not covered by the census form that I cannot fathom the effectiveness of question 19 in truly defining who I am as a greater part of our society. But I don’t think it matters all that much.

Because in the end, it’s what I believe.

*I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.
**To those who answered Jedi, this does not give you telekinesis or a lightsaber. However many sexless 15 year olds giggled themselves to sleep on Tuesday August 9, the Jedis of Australia will lack legitimacy as a religious order until they present a formalised document of beliefs and practices. Even then...