Why atheism is impractical
I have been thinking a lot lately about how to build an atheistic ethic. Sure, I can see how one could try to live so as to maximize one’s own pleasure or sense of fulfillment, and one could argue that a traditional ethic is the best way to do this, etc., etc. But I’m just not seeing it. Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think so. If there is no God and no immortality, then I cannot see a way to develop a satisfying ethic, a meaningful rule of life.
It seems to me that things like honor, justice, and love disintegrate without God and immortality. They become the motions of atoms and molecules. I have even tried to imagine how they might be more than that in a materialistic universe. Perhaps, I have thought, they “emerged” from materialistic processes, but have become something more, a higher order, higher level law, but this to is unsatisfying. I don’t find it compelling that I should be “ethical” because some impersonal higher law demands it.
Granted, I may want to be ethical if that is the way to live with the most fulfillment or pleasure, but that is where it stops and that is all there is to it. For some reason I find an ethic that arises from a personal creator who will reward me in this life and the next for ethical behavior, and with whom I can have a personal relationship, to be much more satisfying.
Of course, none of this proves or disproves atheism and theism, but neither is it without value in considering the options.
Presuming Atheism?
It is no wonder that the scientific community eschews Intelligent Design. Nor is it any wonder that they find no “evidence” for God through “science”. The current scientific paradigm is founded upon the presupposition of naturalism/materialism. Naturalistic explanations are always seen as preferable to supernatural, no matter how far-fetched the natural explanations are. In fact, the supernatural can never be invoked, it is ruled out by definition.
This has a couple of consequences. First, a person devoted to the current paradigm will never see evidence of God. Secondly, the seeker of God should not expect to find evidence using the current scientific paradigm. This is not to say there can be no evidence, only that the current scientific system rules it out by definition.
The Bible claims that there is “evidence”, but certainly does not endorse the “scientific” worldview.
What does this mean? The scientist looks at some event or object and is restricted by his paradigm to seek a naturalistic explanation. he may claim that he would believe in a supernatural one if it were impossible to find a natural one, but this is simply not true. He would never believe this, because the current paradigm of science seeks only naturalistic explanations, and any failure to find one only results in a patient wait for a future success. Thus, there can never be any evidence for God. Likewise, if some event in his life seems to indicate the touch of a personal being on his life, he will of course suppose it to be mere coincidence or a psychological phenomenon. he must do this, if he is committed to the paradigm.
The “natural” is really just code for “not-supernatural”, or rather, not caused by a divine person.
What if we were all wrong?
What if our current scientific view is all wrong? It’s happened before. James Clerk Maxwell once wrote that “the ether was the best confirmed entity in the whole of physical theory (Polkinghorne, John. Quantum Theory: A Very Short Introduction, p. 4)”.
In fact, there is no assurance that science provides an accurate picture of reality at all, or that it “progresses” toward a clearer and clearer picture of “reality”. Science works from within the prevailing paradigm of the day, a paradigm that dictates the questions that are allowed to be asked, and the methods used for solving them (Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions). The progress of science toward clearer and clearer pictures of reality is an illusion created by the fact that the scientific community believes this. The scientific community perceives itself as ever progressing toward the “truth”, and so whenever changes in methodology or theory become accepted by the community, they are seen as progress.
If, for example, I accept quantum mechanics as the only way to find truth about atoms and sub-atomic particles, then anywhere the quantum mechanical method seems to be leading will appear as progress. QM will delimit the scope of inquiry, identify the problems to be solved, and dictate the methods acceptable for solving them. When QM successfully solves such problems, “progress” occurs. When QM overcame classical mechanics, it appeared to be progress because it opened up a broad new area of inquiry, and addressed problems that were outside the scope of classical mechanics. The illusion was strengthened by the fact that it could be made to fit with the now defunct, but still useful, classical theory. QM “works” not because it is closer to the truth, but because it is a package, complete with its own problems to be solved. And don’t forget, the Ptolomeic system of astronomy worked as well as the Copernican (Polanyi, Personal Knowledge), even the phlogiston theory of combustion worked well for many applications.
And as far as “working” is concerned, that really has more to do with the engineers than the scientific theory. I don’t think it was physicists who got us to the moon, but engineers. If scientists are involved in such processes, such as the Manhattan project, then they are doing engineering, not science. They develop equations and methods that work, regardless of how “true” they are.
So, it is quite possible that our current scientific understanding is all wrong, and this includes our understanding of evolution and the history of the earth. The truth may entail a very different paradigm.
The Parable of the Robot: More Musings on Meaning
There was were two robots, in two separate worlds. Both could feel, love, experience pain, heartache, joy. Both sensed honor and justice, good and evil. One was created by chance, by a machine. The other had been created by a human being, for the purpose of enjoying his fellowship.
The first robot made the best of what he had, and enjoyed the pleasures of life, seeking those circumstances which brought the most pleasurable feelings. He enjoyed his time with the other robots in his world, also made by chance and machine. Love and justice brought him a sense of fulfillment and pleasure, dishonor and hatred brought pain. Yet he knew that it was all just chance and machine. Thus he lived.
I am a robot, and my love and pain are the workings of a machine. My life is the operation of a mindless machine. Relationships between persons are the workings of a machine. The machine is fundamental.
The second robot lived much the same way, seeking to enjoy life, but he did so in the context of a relationship with his maker. Love and pain and justice and honor were not the chance productions of a machine, but the creations of his benefactor and friend. Thus he lived.
I am created by a person. I know this person. As I live and love, I have fellowship with him, and he with me. I am a person like him. My life is fundamentally a relationship between persons. Personality is fundamental.
Muad’dib and terrible purpose
Paul Atreides of Herbert’s Dune trilogy felt hemmed in, moved by some terrible purpose. He wondered if his prescience foretold the future, or made the future…
“At some faraway instant in a past which he had shared with others, this future had reached down to him. It had chivvied him and herded him into a chasm whose walls were growing narrower and narrower. He could feel them closing in on him. This was the way the vision went.”
Is this how it is with all of us? It is, if Camus is right. If we should live in such a way so as to maximize our own sense of fulfillment and minimize our own negative feelings, then we are constrained, confined by our past and its influence on our personality. Our decisions today will be determined by the events of our past and the imprint they have left on us. If I was brought up in a Judeo-Christian system, then I must make my decisions accordingly, or else face my own dissatisfaction and feelings of guilt or dishonor. If I act according to my conscience, then I feel fulfilled. Of course, this is an oversimplification. There are also basic natural impulses that come into play, but all of these fit together to fix the course that my life “should” take, if I live for for no higher purpose.
In fact, my life emerges from nothing, like a termite mound, its shape reflecting the balance of forces in my psyche and environment, and those forces emerging from the same process. And all is without true purpose. It is self-organizing, self-created. Alone. Pointless. But growing, advancing, like fate. It is fate, I suppose.
Meursault’s Meaning, Camus’ Conundrum
I just finished listening to The Stranger by Camus. It has moved me a bit closer, I think, to clarity on this whole issue of meaning. The main character, Meursault, is clearly reduced to an animal by his philosophy. He lives only for the sensual, the immediate. How is this different from the animal, the beast?
This much is clear from the book. This does not match the analysis which followed. In interview with an “existentialism scholar” followed the book. He tried (in vain) to explain Camus ethic and his “positive” outlook on life, how Camus believed that the search for meaning was the problem, and that “life” is found in coming to grips with the absurdity of life. I still can’t grasp this. Sure, I can imagine living for today, for the feelings, but I cannot see how this is better than the alternative.
Strange, what Solomon wrote…
I said to myself concerning the sons of men, “God has surely tested them in order for them to see that they are but beasts (Eccl 3:18, NAS).
Did Brave Buffalo invent God?
I recently read a post by Kushal called “What made God?” It got me thinking again about some Native American quotes I had read, and I wanted to share them. It is often claimed that mankind invented the idea of God or gods in order to explain things they could not understand. There may be some truth to that, but I think there is more to it. I think these quotes shed interesting light on this topic. They are from the excellent collection of Native American quotes compiled by T. C. McLuhan, Touch the Earth.
“When I was ten years of age I looked at the land and the rivers, the sky above, and the animals around me and could not fail to realize that they were made by some great power. I was so anxious to understand this power that I questioned the trees and the bushes. It seemed as though the flowers were staring at me, and I wanted to ask them ‘Who made you?’.”
Tatanka-ohitika (Brave Buffalo), Sioux, 1911
“When a man does a piece of work that is admired by all we say that it is wonderful, but when we see the changes of day and night, the sun, moon, and stars in the sky, and the changing seasons upon the earth, with their ripening fruits, anyone must realize that it is the work of some one more powerful than man.”
Mato-Kuwapi (Chased-by-Bears), Sioux, pre-1915
I think that these quotes do not fit the typical explanation of man’s invention of God. I do not think that Brave Buffalo and Chased-by-Bears (an interesting name) were inventing God. These two natives do not seem to be inquiring about explanations. They seem to have an intuitive sense that there is a person behind nature. Somehow they realized that these things were made by a “Who.” It would seem that they saw some intimation of personality, a “who-ness,” in the things that are made.
This doesn’t fit the typical naturalistic explanation, but it does fit Paul’s explanation. Paul stated in his letter to the Romans: ”what may be known of God is manifest in [men], for God has shown it to them. For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead, so that they are without excuse, because, although they knew God, they did not glorify Him as God, nor were thankful, but became futile in their thoughts, and their foolish hearts were darkened (Romans 1:19-21; NKJV).”
And in Acts 14, Paul explained it this way…
“‘Men, why are you doing these things? We also are men with the same nature as you, and preach to you that you should turn from these useless things to the living God, who made the heaven, the earth, the sea, and all things that are in them, who in bygone generations allowed all nations to walk in their own ways. Nevertheless He did not leave Himself without witness, in that He did good, gave us rain from heaven and fruitful seasons, filling our hearts with food and gladness.’ “
Why the bias against the supernatural?
There is evidence on both sides, but it seems that all of the evidence for Christianity can be “explained away” with alternative, naturalistic explanations. At least, it seems that whenever Christians think they have found something that cannot be explained by science, science eventually finds an alternative explanation. When this happens, it seems to negate the evidence for Christianity. Why?
Do we have a natural preference for naturalistic (naturalism: the view of the world that takes account only of natural elements and forces, excluding the supernatural or spiritual (dictionary.com)) explanations? It seems clear that we approach the evidence with naturalistic presuppositions. Is this justified? Why do we have a preference for what we can see, hear, and touch?
But that’s not even it. Most scientific explanations are not like that: we can’t see, feel, or touch quantum mechanics or relativity. Sure, we can test them, but we initially believed them with very little evidence. And what about multiverse theory? It has become very popular among physicists, but it can never be tested. Why is this explanation preferable to God? I suppose it is still in terms of things I can see, universes and such. I can see this universe (though not the whole thing) and it is reasonable that there may be more.
But it is deeper than this. I can’t see gravity. What is “natural” is not what I can see, but rather what predictable, and regular.
But not quantum mechanics. It is not “predictable” in the strict sense. But is is testable. It can be touched, seen, and felt, though indirectly. Evolution is like this as well: it can only be tested indirectly–we see fossils, use radioactivity to estimate ages, compare DNA sequences. So is the big bang. So are most things in modern science.
So is Christianity. It can be tested indirectly. God can be felt, seen, and heard indirectly.
So why the preference?
It almost seems that the “natural” is best defined as “anti-supernatural”. We prefer explanations that do not invoke a personality behind the universe, only impersonal objects and forces acting of their own accord. Why is this?
The Faith-Reason Continuum?
From the scôp : Faith and reason lie along a continuum.
“…those who ‘practice’ reason can exercise great conviction even in the face of uncertainty…Conversely, through reason some have come to a faith stance.
…is faith and reason then a continuum of the same faculty?
He writes that…
Belief is necessary because as both Kierkegaard and Kant assert theoretical reason has its limitations…
Despite these limitations as noted by philosophers back to, at least, the 4 century C.E., individuals on each side speak and act dogmatically—one from faith and the other supposedly from reason. Surely, this is evident on the Christian side of the fence…
This said, it cannot be ignored that the secularists, too, demonstrate this very same inflexible attitude. Listening to a Dawkins or Hitchens debate, one is struck by the smugness and air of certainty professed—an absolutism that there is no God.
How is it then that world-views of such divergence all express dogmatic ideology despite their lack of certainty except by means of faith? The fact that this faith is demonstrated across the spectrum seems to imply that faith is indeed related to reason in some form or fashion.
What would this continuum look like?
The [scientific method], though invaluable does not in and of itself give one enough confidence to risk, in fact it encourages recursive verification to reduce risk.
The SM appears to be the first two requirements of biblical faith, namely knowledge that produces assent; ultimately, though, knowledge must lead to an actionable decision to risk to be of any practical value.
And…
“Kierkegaard writes of belief that it “is not a knowledge but an act of freedom, an expression of will.” (PF, 83) Belief or faith then, is what one does with knowledge and reason as an exercise of one’s will in response to it; it “is the category of decision.” (CUP, 99)
In this way, the scôp suggests that “Faith and Reason like conjoined twins risk death if separated from each other. “
This is an interesting perspective.
Some questions in my mind as I read his post were: Is faith passive or active? If it is an act of the will, then what, exactly, is the role of reason? I suppose that reason provides a level of confidence such that one can act on it, the springboard, as it were. But is faith the jumping off, or is faith the confidence to jump? Is the faith the same as this confidence, or is it the act of decision?
The question that I have been asking for a while is this: can we will faith? By “faith” I mean confidence.
Science Involves Faith
Science involves faith. How so? Well, in order to “know” anything, we must make a subjective “leap of faith.” I think this was established by Kierkegaard (see my post, “Musing with Kierkegaard), but I also think it would be appropriate to delve a bit more deeply into the subject. Why is there a need for faith in science? We have already seen what S.K. had to say. let’s look at another influential philosopher: Michael Polanyi.
In his book “Personal knowledge: Towards a Post-Critical Philosophy”, Polanyi disassembles the view that we can build a complete picture of the world through objective observation and empirical investigation. His work was decisive, and closely related to the idea of faith, as you will see. Before I get into his arguments, a couple of definitions may be in order. For the purposes of this post, objective means”not influenced by personal feelings, interpretations, or prejudice; based on facts; unbiased (dictionary.com)”. Subjective means “existing in the mind; belonging to the thinking subject rather than to the object of thought (dictionary.com)”. A subject is “that which thinks, feels, perceives, intends, etc., as contrasted with the objects of thought, feeling, etc. (dictionary.com)”.
Polanyi points to several lines of evidence that suggest that it is impossible for science to be totally objective, rather it is impossible to remove the subjective elements. First, he points out that scientists do not accept theories solely on the basis of how well they fit the evidence. The Ptolemaic system worked as well as the Copernican system, but was rejected because subjective factors attracted people to the Copernican way. Likewise, scientists ignored Miller’s contradiction of the Michelson-Morely Experiment, not on objective grounds, but based on a subjective preference for Einstein’s theory: its “rationality”. We cannot replace this subjective element with ideas like “simplicity”, notes Polanyi. “Simplicity” is a smoke screen so we don’t have to acknowledge the subjective element. Is Quantum Mechanics simple?
Secondly, he discusses the concept of probability. He notes that “supposedly science aims to produce a complete intellectual control over experience in terms of precise rules which can be formally set out and empirically tested… we would be relieved of personal judgement.” This, however, is impossible. He starts with the closest science has come to this ideal: classical mechanics. Classical mechanics can supposedly predict the future, but input data are not the facts of experience, but rather readings or measurements with associated random error and skill-related systematic error.
How these errors are dealt with or interpreted is a matter of personal judgement. They may be called anomalies, as were certain irregularities in the orbits of the planets before the discovery of Neptune. They may, of course, be dealt with by applying some sort of rule, and this rule is a matter of personal judgement. Statistics is a method of dealing with these uncertainties in a systematic way, in an effort to increase objectivity. But the statistical limits are matters of personal judgement. For example, will we accept the hypothesis if there is 5% uncertainty? How about 10%? Even the procedures we use to calculate the uncertainties are based on methods and criteria developed using personal judgement. We compare the difference between two means with the range of accidental variations which appear to occur in our sample, and the means will be accepted as truly different only if the difference exceeds the range of natural variation. But the “range of natural variation” that is used as a criteria must be selected using personal judgement. Perhaps it is not my judgement, maybe I use someone else’s value, but it is judgement nonetheless. And what about the “natural range of variation”? Where did it come from? From observations and experiments made by people whose methods were chosen using their personal judgement.
In order to communicate this idea to my students, I pass around a graduated beaker of water and have each student write down their measurement of how much water is in the beaker. I write all of their measurements on the board: they typically vary by more than ten milliliters. Then I ask them “How much water is in the beaker?”
The truth is we can never know with 100% certainty. The best we can do is say something like, “52 plus or minus 2 mL.” That is better, but even the plus or minus 2 is not totally objective. How did we get that value? Is it the range? The average uncertainty? The standard deviation? Now, this value, the volume of water in the beaker is supposedly an objective observation, a “fact”, but do we “know” how much water is in the beaker? Do we even know that it is within a our cited range? Yet this value, this volume, may be used to formulate or test a theory. All theories are tested with observations that include elements of personal bias and judgement. In addition, theories are evaluated on the basis of subjective elements, as described above. We simply cannot remove these subjective influences from science.
A closely related phenomena is the way in which we discern order in the midst of randomness. Polanyi uses, as an illustration, the words “Welcome to Wales” written with pebbles on a hillside. Imagine the arrangement of pebbles becoming more and more disordered. At what point do we cease to recognize it as an ordered arrangement, different from randomness? This is a subjective judgement. the example I give my students is similar: if I look up into the sky and see a line of three stars, I do not doubt that their alignment is due to random chance. But if I look up and see ten stars in a line, or 25, that is a different story. But how do I draw the line? Only with personal judgement.
This is analogous to a linear regression. Are two sets of observations related or not? When we do a linear regression we use pre-selected rules to decide for us when we have a linear relationship and when we don’t. But, of course, we choose the criteria. We choose the rule. What is the minimum r-squared value we will accept?
In fact, all observations involve this kind of separation of the observation from background noise, and so all observations involve this kind of subjective judgement.
Lastly, Polanyi treats the idea of skills. “Skills cannot be accounted for in terms iof their particulars.” We swim without being able to say how. Scientific measurements and observations involve skills. Some of these skills are passed down from generation to generation of scientist. Our measurements and observations are inextricably tied to the skills and tools we use to get them. This is painfully obvious to high school chemistry teacher. The measurements my students get and the measurements I get are often vastly different. They are colored by this fourth subjective element.
So, what does any of this have to do with faith? Polanyi was concerned with how to “achieve a frame of mind in which I may hold firmly to what I believe to be true, even though I know that it may conceivably be false.” Sounds like faith to me. I must admit I have not gotten all of the way through the book yet. I’m not sure how he resolves the issues that I outlined above. But here is how I resolve them.
For one thing, his arguments imply that we cannot know anything from science with 100% certainty. Thus, to “believe” any theory or interpretation must involve a leap. In my mind, Polanyi has demonstrated that we can “know” nothing through science without a subjective “judgement”. This judgement is the only way to bridge the gap between uncertainty and certainty. It is a leap. It is not a groundless, completely irrational leap, of course. But then, neither is the Christian faith.
I am not claiming that it is identical to Christian faith, only that it is a kind of “faith”.
Of course, I’m not sure we needed Polanyi’s treatment. Kierkegaard did a fine job when he spoke of “the system (see “Musing…”)”.
