The Golden Rule

Humanist ethics - a foundation for secular morality

‘Someone going to take a pointed stick to pinch a baby bird should first try it on himself to feel how it hurts’ – that’s a traditional saying from the religious tradition of the Yoruba people of Nigeria. I know this because each day I see it written out on a poster, designed for classrooms, which I have on the wall of my office. I’m looking at it right now.

The poster displays, in a rainbow of differently coloured text, the many various versions of the ‘Golden Rule’, the moral principle of treating others as you would wish to be treated in their situation (the Yoruba version is my favourite). They range in time from the bang up-to-date UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights, through the philosophy of Cicero in ancient Rome and of Mill and Sartre in modern Europe, to the earliest recorded versions of the rule, more than two and a half millennia ago, in the teachings of Confucius and Buddha. They span the globe from the sayings of the Guru Granth Sahib in the East, through Africa, Europe and the Middle East, to the native ethical tradition of North America. They come from traditions that are commonly described as secular, and from those that are commonly described as religious.

In a society where religion and virtue are often portrayed as correlating, those seeking to live good lives without religion can sometimes be made to feel that they are somehow deficient in their morality or ethics. But, for humanists, the widespread appearance of the golden rule, determined for themselves by human communities around the globe and across time, provides a foundation of secular morality.

History is a laboratory of human nature and when we see how communities of people in all parts of the world and in all times have discovered for themselves this principle of shared living, it should give those who live humanist lives great encouragement. Part of the humanist approach to ethics is that humanity doesn’t need gods or their prophets to deliver the precepts of good living to us.

This is a part of the rational approach to ethics, morality, and human relationships that people living humanist lives take as their ethical bedrock. Not handed down by a god or the prophet of a god, the golden rule is not an inflexible commandment but determined through trial and error, and the experiments in community living that were made by our earliest ancestors. It is a rule necessary for the survival of communities, which speaks of the long cooperative history of our species. Whether its origins are biological - our closest relatives, chimpanzees, also live in communities - or cultural, it is a principle that all people of good will, humanist and religious, can aspire to embody in our own lives. If it is liberated from doctrine, and allowed to become a living rule, refreshing itself with its application to each new ethical problem, it can resolve most of the dilemmas that we face.

The trick is to make it applicable to all situations – to divorce it from scripture and commandments – and to apply it universally, not just to those we consider like us, in appearance, or beliefs. The far-flung and ancient existence of the golden rule gives secular ethics its foundation stone, and is a constant reminder of the shared adventure of life that all people alive today are so lucky to be experiencing.

Andrew works for the British Humanist Association on education and public affairs. As well as campaigning for the inclusion of non-religious philosophies such as humanism in the school curriculum, he has published articles criticising worship in schools.
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Inside Big Ben: why the world’s most famous clock will soon lose its bong

Every now and then, even the most famous of clocks need a bit of care.

London is soon going to lose one of its most familiar sounds when the world-famous Big Ben falls silent for repairs. The “bonging” chimes that have marked the passing of time for Londoners since 1859 will fall silent for months beginning in 2017 as part of a three-year £29m conservation project.

Of course, “Big Ben” is the nickname of the Great Bell and the bell itself is not in bad shape – even though it does have a huge crack in it.

The bell weighs nearly 14 tonnes and it cracked in 1859 when it was first bonged with a hammer that was way too heavy.

The crack was never repaired. Instead the bell was rotated one eighth of a turn and a lighter (200kg) hammer was installed. The cracked bell has a characteristic sound which we have all grown to love.

Big Ben strikes. UK Parliament.

Instead, it is the Elizabeth Tower (1859) and the clock mechanism (1854), designed by Denison and Airy, that need attention.

Any building or machine needs regular maintenance – we paint our doors and windows when they need it and we repair or replace our cars quite routinely. It is convenient to choose a day when we’re out of the house to paint the doors, or when we don’t need the car to repair the brakes. But a clock just doesn’t stop – especially not a clock as iconic as the Great Clock at the Palace of Westminster.

Repairs to the tower are long overdue. There is corrosion damage to the cast iron roof and to the belfry structure which keeps the bells in place. There is water damage to the masonry and condensation problems will be addressed, too. There are plumbing and electrical works to be done for a lift to be installed in one of the ventilation shafts, toilet facilities and the fitting of low-energy lighting.

Marvel of engineering

The clock mechanism itself is remarkable. In its 162-year history it has only had one major breakdown. In 1976 the speed regulator for the chimes broke and the mechanism sped up to destruction. The resulting damage took months to repair.

The weights that drive the clock are, like the bells and hammers, unimaginably huge. The “drive train” that keeps the pendulum swinging and that turns the hands is driven by a weight of about 100kg. Two other weights that ring the bells are each over a tonne. If any of these weights falls out of control (as in the 1976 incident), they could do a lot of damage.

The pendulum suspension spring is especially critical because it holds up the huge pendulum bob which weighs 321kg. The swinging pendulum releases the “escapement” every two seconds which then turns the hands on the clock’s four faces. If you look very closely, you will see that the minute hand doesn’t move smoothly but it sits still most of the time, only moving on each tick by 1.5cm.

The pendulum swings back and forth 21,600 times a day. That’s nearly 8m times a year, bending the pendulum spring. Like any metal, it has the potential to suffer from fatigue. The pendulum needs to be lifted out of the clock so that the spring can be closely inspected.

The clock derives its remarkable accuracy in part from the temperature compensation which is built into the construction of the pendulum. This was yet another of John Harrison’s genius ideas (you probably know him from longitude fame). He came up with the solution of using metals of differing temperature expansion coefficient so that the pendulum doesn’t change in length as the temperature changes with the seasons.

In the Westminster clock, the pendulum shaft is made of concentric tubes of steel and zinc. A similar construction is described for the clock in Trinity College Cambridge and near perfect temperature compensation can be achieved. But zinc is a ductile metal and the tube deforms with time under the heavy load of the 321kg pendulum bob. This “creeping” will cause the temperature compensation to jam up and become less effective.

So stopping the clock will also be a good opportunity to dismantle the pendulum completely and to check that the zinc tube is sliding freely. This in itself is a few days' work.

What makes it tick

But the truly clever bit of this clock is the escapement. All clocks have one - it’s what makes the clock tick, quite literally. Denison developed his new gravity escapement especially for the Westminster clock. It decouples the driving force of the falling weight from the periodic force that maintains the motion of the pendulum. To this day, the best tower clocks in England use the gravity escapement leading to remarkable accuracy – better even than that of your quartz crystal wrist watch.

In Denison’s gravity escapement, the “tick” is the impact of the “legs” of the escapement colliding with hardened steel seats. Each collision causes microscopic damage which, accumulated over millions of collisions per year, causes wear and tear affecting the accuracy of the clock. It is impossible to inspect the escapement without stopping the clock. Part of the maintenance proposed during this stoppage is a thorough overhaul of the escapement and the other workings of the clock.

The Westminster clock is a remarkable icon for London and for England. For more than 150 years it has reminded us of each hour, tirelessly. That’s what I love about clocks – they seem to carry on without a fuss. But every now and then even the most famous of clocks need a bit of care. After this period of pampering, “Big Ben” ought to be set for another 100 or so years of trouble-free running.

The Conversation

Hugh Hunt is a Reader in Engineering Dynamics and Vibration at the University of Cambridge.

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.