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New atheism, bad philosophy

If there’s one thing that distinguishes the so-called “New Atheists” from the old atheists, it’s that the New Atheists are notoriously bad at philosophy, something I’ve said before. Edward Feser writes on this topic,

Philosophers and theologians are constantly told that they need to “learn the science” before commenting on quantum mechanics, relativity, or Darwinism.  And rightly so.  Yet too many scientists refuse to “learn the philosophy” before pontificating on the subject.  The results are predictably sophomoric.  What an arrogant and clueless amateur like Hawking or Dawkins needs to hear before putting on his philosopher’s toga is this.  And if he doesn’t get the message, this.  Instead, the reaction from equally clueless editors, journalists, and “educated” general readers is: “Gee, he’s a scientist! He’s good at math and stuff.  He must know what he’s talking about!”  It really is no more intelligent than that.

The new atheists are, for the most part, scientists, or at least adherents to scientism, the thinking that science is the answer to everything. Sam Harris even claims that science is a proper foundation for morality.

Something else that I’ve pointed out before is that science, which is a great tool for studying the physical world, suffers from some philosophical problems, mostly stemming from the so-called Enlightenment. The Enlightenment turned man’s ability to reason into an object of worship, as well as doing some other things for which we are still suffering.

As an example of bad philosophy, the new atheists love to refer to David Hume’s thoughts on miracles, however they ignore his thinking on inductive reasoning and science. Hume argued, I think correctly, that conclusions of causality are inductively, not deductively, reasoned; and he went on to propose that such inductive reasoning is justified by its success (which begs the question, “how does one measure scientific success, unless we have already determined what the desired results are?”).

Hume also concluded, again I think rightly so, that such inductive conclusions are limited to past causes and effects; one cannot predict the future based on past evidence. Predictions about the future are based on faith that the past will repeat itself, not on any proof that A always results in B.

What this means is that just because A has caused B for the last 100 years doesn’t mean that A will cause B tomorrow. Science simply cannot tell us that for sure. If science is at all successful, past evidence of cause and effect should give us, at best, a probability for what could occur in the future. If a certain drug worked for these other folks, it should work for you. Maybe. However, science’s ability to replicate past results is now being challenged.

The Decline Effect

In December of 2010 Jonah Lehrer wrote an interesting article for the New Yorker discussing the so-called Decline Effect, which has been noted over the past few years. Basically, what is happening is that conclusions proven by past studies, to the extent they are considered scientific facts, are suddenly showing themselves to be not true. Drugs that worked 10 years ago show no sign of working today. He writes,

But now all sorts of well-established, multiply confirmed findings have started to look increasingly uncertain. It’s as if our facts were losing their truth: claims that have been enshrined in textbooks are suddenly unprovable. This phenomenon doesn’t yet have an official name, but it’s occurring across a wide range of fields, from psychology to ecology. In the field of medicine, the phenomenon seems extremely widespread, affecting not only antipsychotics but also therapies ranging from cardiac stents to Vitamin E and antidepressants: Davis has a forthcoming analysis demonstrating that the efficacy of antidepressants has gone down as much as threefold in recent decades.

Lehrer posits that some possible causes of this decline effect is the subjectivity of the scientists (tending to prove things they want to believe), and bias in scientific reporting. Of course, this doesn’t explain why scientists today who want to confirm past findings are suddenly unable to do so, or why the law of gravity doesn’t give predictable results.

How Firm a Foundation…

Regardless of the cause of this decline effect, the reality is that science, at least at the present time, is not able to establish sufficient causation to predict future results, or to even correctly establish past causation. Medical and pharmaceutical beliefs are suspect, as are some of the “facts” of physics.

So, while I still believe that scientific studies have value, it seems that the ability of science to serve as a foundation for morality or religion—or atheism—is quite suspect. The decline effect just re-emphasizes some of the philosophical issues of those who hold science in too high a regard, and who have put their faith in man’s ability to reason and be objective (neither of which can be reasonably shown to be exist). The New Atheism—holding itself out as the pinnacle of reason and objectivity—suffers from bad philosophy, and a resulting misplaced faith in science’s ability to give us answers.

Written on 17 February 2011 by me under Faith, Science & Doubt, Philosophy with 11 Comments
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When Skeptics Collide

It seems that skeptics love other skeptics – up until the point such skeptics becomes skeptical of something that other skeptics accept.

Massimo Pigliucci is a skeptic, philosopher (meaning he teaches philosophy), and blogger who occasionally has some interesting things to say, which is why I subscribe to his blog.  Massimo is apparently a fan of James Randi, the well-known debunker of all things mystical.  Today Massimo writes:

James “the Amazing” Randi is an icon of skepticism. The man has done more — over a span of several decades — to further the cause of critical thinking and to expose flimflammery of all sorts than arguably anyone else in the world, ever. That is why I was struck with incredulity and sadness yesterday when I read Randi’s latest take on global warming.

Massimo opines on why James Randi would write such an article (besides the obvious reason that Randi is simply applying his same skeptical eye to the AGW claims that he does to everything else). Randi makes some interesting observations, and Pigliucci tries his best to hand-wave them away.  Which ever side you’re on, or especially if you have no side, it’s interesting reading.

(“Skepticism” poster linked from Xenocrates)

Written on 17 December 2009 by me under Faith, Science & Doubt, Politics/Current Events, Uncategorized with 10 Comments
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Exploring the Twain 2

In the first post in this series, I introduced my thesis that Western theology is so tainted by a number of influences that did not affect the Eastern Church that the best way to evaluate Western theology is to start at the beginning, exploring where the West diverted from the East. I also proposed that the true “great schism” was a worldview split, and without understanding this aspect we can’t really appreciate the theological issues.

Father Michael Azkoul (an Orthodox Priest) appears to be a contemporary authority on this issue. He writes in a 1994 article:

Following the Holy Fathers, Orthodoxy uses science and philosophy to defend and explain her Faith. Unlike Roman Catholicism, she does not build on the results of philosophy and science. The Church does not seek to reconcile faith and reason. She makes no effort to prove by logic or science what Christ gave His followers to believe. If physics or biology or chemistry or philosophy lends support to the teachings of the Church, she does not refuse them. However, Orthodoxy is not intimidated by man’s intellectual accomplishments. She does not bow to them and change the Christian Faith to make it consistent with the results of human thought and science.

…

Roman Catholicism, on the other hand, places a high value on human reason. Its history shows the consequence of that trust. For example, in the Latin Middle Ages, the 13th century, the theologian-philosopher, Thomas Aquinas, joined “Christianity” with the philosophy of Aristotle. From that period til now, the Latins have never wavered in their respect for human wisdom; and it has radically altered the theology, mysteries and institutions of the Christian religion.

This difference of “philosophy of philosophy” explains much of the difference between East and West.  While Eastern scholars will make references to Plato, etc. (as does the Gospel of John with its discussion of the logos), it only borrows concepts as illustrations.  Augustine, who belonged to the Latin side, not the Greek, took a different approach.

Augustine – Saint or Heretic?

Augustine was a Manichaean as well as a neo-Platonist before he was a Christian, and a major focus of his thinking was merging his philosophical ideas with Christianity – ideas which included a continued belief in the eternal forms of Plato as existing alongside God, dualism, and the fallen man.  Augustine, who was largely unknown in the Eastern Church until the 14th Century or so, is the major shaper of Western Christianity, introducing – I’ll even say inventing – concepts like the doctrine of original sin and the total depravity of man.  His views not only heavily influenced the Roman Catholic Church, but also is the foundation for Reformed theology (Calvinism).

While accepted as a saint by the Orthodox, his ideas are largely rejected by them, with some recent Orthodox scholars taking the position that he was a heretic, and see him (rightly, I believe) as a major cause of the East-West schism.  Of course, the Orthodox don’t consider the Church Fathers to be inerrant, and some are more inerrant than others.  Augustine is seen as being in the “more” category.

What this means is, of course, that many of the doctrines and concepts that we take for granted, such as original sin, inherited guilt, total depravity, penal atonement, dualism, a Roman judicial interpretation of justification, and the concept of the “angry God” do not exist in the early church or in the Eastern church.  Furthermore many of these concepts are not Biblical or derived from Apostolic tradition, but began as philosophical beliefs that Augustine felt needed to be reconciled with Christianity.

Aquinas to Ockham to Luther

Thus began a Western tradition of basing theology on philosophy.  Subsequent to Augustine was Thomas Aquinas, who followed Aristotle instead of Plato.  Aquinas’ shift away from Plato caused a bit of strife in the Roman church, but eventually the majority of the church adopted his rationalistic approach. While Thomas still believed in a God limited by the eternal forms, he further altered Christian thought by basing all revelation on our 5 senses.

It wasn’t until William of Ockham (or Occam) – one of my heroes – that we got rid of the eternal forms, and finally back to a Biblical concept of God who actually had free will, who was not limited by some external ideals of “good,” “just,” and so on.   This is what Occam’s Razer was all about, but that’s another topic.  It was this school of thought – away from the limitations of Plato and Aristotle, and Augustine – that provided the backdrop for Martin Luther’s theology.  As I stated in my prior post, Luther also saw the error of basing theology on reason.   Luther also saw the error of Augustine’s concept of the angry God, instead finding that the Bible taught a loving God.  While Luther inherited much from Augustine – as did everyone – his theology was a major correction in a number of areas, and is probably the closest to the Eastern church than any other major Western theologian, even teaching the concept of theosis.  Calvin, however, is another story, and I’ll get to him soon.

So?

We now have a Western church tradition that has been tossed to and fro by every wind of philosophy.  Meanwhile, back East, nothing has changed.  They’ve had 7 major church councils to deal with some issues, but essentially nothing’s changed.  No new theories about the nature of God, no new theories about justification, and no need for a reformation.

My original question was, how can we find a pure expression of Christianity that is unaltered by Plato, Aristotle, Augustine or the Enlightenment?  Especially after Descartes, in the west, we’re pretty much toast.  Our worldview – our entire context for understanding the Bible and early church teaching – has been hijacked not once, but several times.  In this context, it seems that to even try to discuss evangelical theology is pretty much a bust.  Even if the church is semper reformanda (always reforming), it’s reforming into what? To the 1800′s?  The Reformation?  Augustine?  It seems to me that the only way to evaluate theology is to compare it to that of the Eastern Church; even if you don’t accept that as “true,” you have to admit it is the only theology free from all of the Western baggage.

Again, I’m still a rationalist.  But, God does call for us to think, just not to let our ability to understand control our belief.

NOTE:  A friend on Facebook questioned my comment, “I’m still a rationalist.”  It was a poor choice of words, or at least not adequately explained.  What I meant was that I’ve been steeped in Western rationalism, and still naturally think like a rationalist.  However, I am not a rationalist in the sense that I don’t limit my ability to believe on my – or someone else’s – ability to understand or explain something.

Written on 23 November 2009 by me under Church, Exploring the Twain with 12 Comments
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Exploring the Twain

“Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet.”  - Rudyard Kipling, Barrack-room Ballads

Years ago, I got to know a Greek Orthodox Priest (who was, in fact, from Greece) who tried to explain to me the difference between the Roman Catholic and Orthodox churches; to me, both the RCC and the EO were quite similar.  However, to him, the RCC was closer to evangelicalism than it was to Eastern Orthodoxy.  I didn’t quite understand it then.  Now, 30 years later, I find myself considering the issue once again.  This time, however, I am beginning to understand.  Besides reading some Orthodox theology, I’ve also been trying to catch up on 1500 years of Western theology by reading summaries of the major theologians, and I’ve been listening to a great series from The Teaching Company called Philosophy and Religion in the West by Phillip Cary.

Western theology: Fundamentally Flawed?

As I learn more about the history of Western theology, I am finding I have more and more problems with the theological and philosophical direction taken by the Western theologians (as I have dealt with a bit in my Webber series and elsewhere).  In fact, I am finding that it is fundamentally flawed, and that it is very, very difficult to filter out potentially errant presuppositions, as I am so saturated in them I don’t even recognize them.  Such is the problem of worldviews.  My theory, then, is that by understanding the differences between East and West, I may be more able to find a more pure theology.  Even writing this, however, I am aware that this is a purely Western approach to the problem; but, I have to accept that I am rooted in the West, even while I look to the East.

Understanding the Schism: A little history

Even trying to understand the Great Schism, as the split between the Eastern and Western church is known, is difficult.  I have decided that the best way to approach it is by favoring the Eastern interpretation, while not ignoring the Western; reading Western points of view merely tends to reinforce the problem.  However, both sides do point to a number of political, cultural, philosophical and theological issues that contributed to the Schism.  Constantine perhaps set the stage for the split by establishing a 2nd capital city in Constantinople. This, I think, made it easier for the Eastern Church to eventually ignore Rome.

The fall of the Western Roman Empire, of course, is  a major factor.  Many people are perhaps unaware that in the East, the Roman (Byzantine) Empire lasted for about 1,000 years, which contributed to more stability in the Eastern church.  The Roman Bishop (Pope), with Europe in chaos, turned to the Franks (Charlemagne) for support (which led to other problems). Besides these political differences, there was a language barrier, with the East speaking Greek and the West speaking Latin, and both churches insisting the other should convert.

Eventually, as we know, the Pope took on a quasi-political role in Europe.  While this did have a stabilizing effect on the region, it didn’t do the church any favors.  Soon the Pope was considered to be the highest source of spiritual authority in the West; the Eastern church, however, maintained a flatter church structure with a plurality of leadership among the patriarchs.  Today the Ecumenical Patriarch is still considered “first among equals” in the Eastern church.

The issues between East and West grew over several hundred years.  Possibly the biggest factor in the increasing schism was the role Charlemagne played in the late 8th and early 9th Centuries.  At this time what is known as the “Filioque Clause” was being added to the Nicene Creed in various places in the Western church.  The clause changes the nature of the Holy Spirit’s role in the Trinity, adding that the Spirit proceeds from both the Father “and the Son.”  While debated even in the West (Pope Leo III disagreed with the addition), it was Charlemagne who adopted it and subsequently accused the Eastern Church of heresy for failure to use it. Charlemagne had no authority in the East, and I suspect he thought that he could use the Church to extend his political clout.

The final straw came in 1054 with the Roman church “excommunicating” the entire Eastern church.  The Eastern church to my knowledge never officially broke ties with the West (although they finally realized that the Roman Church had, by their own actions, left Orthodoxy). Relations, however, got even worse when the Romans sacked Constantinople on the Fourth Crusade in 1204.  As one could expect, things have never been the same.

Theological Aspects of the Schism

While these issues are important in understanding the Schism, I’d like to focus on the philosophical and theological differences.  Kallistos (Timothy) Ware, an evangelical-turned-Orthodox theologian, writes this concerning the theological split:

In the early Church there had been unity in the faith, but a diversity of theological schools. From the start Greeks and Latins had each approached the Christian Mystery in their own way. At the risk of some oversimplification, it can be said that the Latin approach was more practical, the Greek more speculative; Latin thought was influenced by juridical ideas, by the concepts of Roman law, while the Greeks understood theology in the context of worship and in the light of the Holy Liturgy. When thinking about the Trinity, Latins started with the unity of the Godhead, Greeks with the threeness of the persons; when reflecting on the Crucifixion, Latins thought primarily of Christ the Victim, Greeks of Christ the Victor; Latins talked more of redemption, Greeks of deification; and so on. Like the schools of Antioch and Alexandria within the east, these two distinctive approaches were not in themselves contradictory; each served to supplement the other, and each had its place in the fullness of Catholic tradition. But now that the two sides were becoming strangers to one another – with no political and little cultural unity, with no common language – there was a danger that each side would follow its own approach in isolation and push it to extremes, forgetting the value in the other point of view.

Ware, I think, does a pretty even-handed job in his analysis, and also points out in this chapter that while the contributing causes to the Schism were many, it was really the theological differences that divided the church, and which still divide it today.  The 2 primary issues that he sees are Papal authority, and the Filioque Clause. However, the issues he mentions above show a more fundamental difference which, I think, resulted in more than just a church schism; what developed seems to be more of a philosophical or worldview schism, which I will discuss in my next post.

Written on 18 November 2009 by me under Church, Exploring the Twain, Theological Musings with 4 Comments
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Clashing Culture

My friend Mike has become involved in a new co-op blog entitled Clashing Culture. It is an interesting concept, as the authors consist of 2 people who identify themselves as atheists, and 2 people who identify as Christians. Their logo is especially catchy, featuring both the new Atheist scarlet “A” in Clashing and a cross for the “t” in Culture.

However, as I read through some of the posts and the authors’ bios, it seems that they may have more culture in common – and therefore less “clash” – than they think. Certainly the question of God is a big issue; however, in this case it may simply be a disagreement within a culture than the clash of different cultures. Before I explain what I mean, let me say that there are some very interesting posts so far, and I don’t in any way mean to speak negatively about any of the authors or the blog. If you’ll notice, I’ve even added it to my blogroll and (possibly to their dismay) will likely be a regular reader and commenter. It will indeed be interesting to see where this blog goes, and I wish them well as it is a very clever concept.

So, here’s what I mean by “culture in common:” Two of the authors, my friend Mike and Anastasia (whose own blog is Genetic Maize) are by their own admission atheists (not that they need to be ashamed of this, it’s just that I want to clarify that I’m not putting words in their mouths); both were raised Catholic, and down the road decided that there was no empirical evidence of God and the supernatural. I presume they would both be okay with the descriptor “philosophical materialist,” meaning someone who has a worldview where all that exists is the material world, which can be seen, tested, prodded, and so on. Both are rationalists and committed to the scientific approach to knowledge. Both of them are also modernists, the predominant worldview of the 20th Century Western world.

The other 2 individuals are perhaps harder to categorize (and I do apologize, I am being very modernist in my analysis, but it’s just a tool, albeit a flawed one). Thomas Robey is a well-known blogger at Hope For Pandora and a MD/PhD student at the U of Washington. He is a professing Christian of the Presbyterian persuasion, who says he believes in the “basics of Christianity” but admits having trouble with the concepts of eternal life and miracles. He is an evolutionist, not believing in either young Earth creationism or intelligent design. He states, “When it comes to interpreting the Bible, I see scientific understanding as trumping metaphorical stories – particularly in the Old Testament.”

Steve Matheson is a developmental cell biologist who blogs at Quintessence of Dust. He teaches at Calvin College, attends a Reformed church, which I presume makes him a Calvinist. From his own blog, I gather that he is an evolutionist who believes in common descent. I haven’t read enough of him to know where he stands with regard to Intelligent Design except that he’s critical of some aspects of at least some aspects of it. (I have to say that I have a hard time seeing how a Calvinist could not believe in ID!) In any event, his states that the main theme of his blog is scientific explanation.

My intent is not to misrepresent or even criticize anyone, and if I have misunderstood anyone’s position, I apologize. My point here is this: While the 4 authors are split 50/50 on belief in God, they are all modernists. That’s not such a big surprise, as most Americans are, including most evangelical Christians. In looking at the blogs of Matheson and Robey, it appears that in keeping with modernist philosophy they are rationalists, approaching things – even religion – from a scientific culture and viewpoint (if anyone, Matheson would seem the most likely to clash with the others). This now places all four authors within a smaller subculture (which at least borders on scientism), as a large percentage of Western Christians – especially among evangelicals, Pentecostals and fundamentalists – would part ways in holding science to that level of authority (which tends to result in fractured worldviews on both sides of that fence). So, it would seem that at best, what we have is a clash between sub-cultures, if not sub-sub-cultures.

Again (and I want to make this abundantly clear), it is not my intention to be critical of the Clashing Culture site or its intent. As I mentioned recently I’ve been thinking lately about epistemology and worldview so this site just prompted more thinking. Congratulations to the CC crew on a great-looking blog. I have high hopes for you, so don’t disappoint me!

Written on 15 June 2008 by me under Faith, Science & Doubt, Philosophy, Reviews with 5 Comments
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The silent warrant

Sounds ominous, doesn’t it?

Every day, both at work and off, I read truth claims. Positions stated, propositions advanced, and conclusions asserted. Whether it’s a legal analysis, a theological discussion or the evolution-ID debate, there are truth claims being made. It’s one thing to express a hunch, another to lay claim to truth.

In the art of persuasion, which is what much of writing is all about, the key is in the warrant, which connects evidence with the claim being made. In Stephen Toulmin’s argument model, the warrant answers the question ‘Why does this mean that your claim is true?’

This about this for a moment; how often have you read a blog post or news article and thought, “why should I believe this?” It’s probably not that often, even though I’d be willing to bet that many such truth claims are warrant-deficient. For example, there’s one blog that I read occasionally (which shall remain nameless) where the very well-known blogger makes assertion after assertion, sometimes based on information and sometimes not, with nary a warrant to be found. There’s ridicule, there’s hyperbole, there’s hot air, and sometimes there are tons of supposedly relevant facts … but an actual justification for his position? Why should he? He’s famous! and he’s right! You should just believe him!

A point that I’ve tried to make on a few occasions is that we all are to some extent presuppositional. That is, we operate within various worldviews (aka paradigms or meta-narratives) and see things through our own set of filters and lenses and from our own perspectives. For example, most of us reading this would be considered modernists. We can’t help it; we were raised in a culture permeated with modernism, so that we don’t even recognize it. We think of logic as your basic “if a and b, then c” syllogism, even without thinking about it. We think the automobile is better than a horse & buggy, and that a new car is better than an old one (unless it’s a classic). We don’t even consider that there are people from other times and other places who would think we were nuts for thinking this way. We’re modernists.

Now, within the modernist worldview there are American conservatives and American Liberals, both of which are conservative by some European standards. Then there are liberals who are atheists, and liberals who are Christians. There are liberal atheists who like spicy Mexican food and watching I Love Lucy reruns because that’s what they were raised with, and liberal atheists who don’t like spicy food and prefer Leave it to Beaver. Get it? Worldviews and heritage and just plain preference affects how we look at things – even old TV shows.

In Elements of Argument, Annette Rottenberg & Donna Winchell have a slightly different take on the warrant:

Certain assumptions underlie all the claims we make. In argument, the term warrant is used for such an assumption, a belief or principle that is taken for granted. It may be stated or unstated. If the arguer believes that the audience shares his assumption, he may feel it unnecessary to express it. But if he thinks that the audience is doubtful or hostile, he may decide to state the assumption to emphasize its importance or argue for its validity. The warrant, stated or not, allows the reader to make the same connection between the support and the claim that the author does.

In explaining further how the warrant works, they explain that the one being persuaded may accept the evidence, but unless he or she also accepts the warrant, the claim is not believed. Now, even an unwritten warrant for an argument may be fairly specific to the claim being made (such as “you can trust Pew Research polls”) or perhaps more commonly, they can be a very broad assumption or belief that we take for granted that can apply to many claims.

So, the warrant is usually there, even when you don’t see it. I have a hunch that often, the warrants are kept silent on purpose; and various methods – including the use of emotion-charged words or ideas – are used to get people to jump to conclusions without realizing that the silent warrants or presuppositions are flawed (or at least so contrary to the anticipated reader’s position that the writer knows the warrant just wouldn’t fly).

It is important, then, that we are aware of a writer’s presuppositions, as it will have much to say about the idea being argued. If I stumble across a theological article challenging some established position, I first check out the author: What’s his background? Is he from a tradition that would color his thinking or even impact the meanings of the words being used? Does he have a personal history with the issue that would impact his thinking? Realizing these things will at least provide a clue to his presuppositions, while it may not invalidate his argument.

I try to be as overt as possible with my warrants or presuppositions, especially if they are not universally accepted. I am a Theist. Furthermore, I am a Theist who has subjective knowledge of God, not just objective. I believe in ways of knowing that fall outside of the scientific method. Now, I can’t say whether I believe in God because of experience, or if I believe that knowledge of God is possible because I have knowledge of God. Here, I can’t tell my a priori from my a posteriori, but it’s not important. What is important is that, for example, claims based on presuppositions of philosophical materialism don’t hold water for me, because of my presuppositions (which are in turn based on subjective knowledge which is not accepted by materialists).

See the problem?

So, beware the silent warrants. Find them, analyze them, and challenge them. They may be actually of more importance than the particular point being argued.

Written on 01 May 2008 by me under Faith, Science & Doubt, Philosophy with 1 Comment
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