How Much Faith to Be an Atheist? (A Response to Geisler and Turek, Part 3)

This is a continuation of my response to the Christian apologetics book I Don’t Have Enough Faith to Be an Atheist by Norm Geisler and Frank Turek. Read part 1 here.

I don’t have enough faith to be an atheist Norm Geisler Frank TurekFine Tuning Argument (the Anthropic Principle)

Geisler and Turek (I’ll refer to the book as GT) make the typical fine-tuning argument.

If the gravitational force were altered by 0.00000000000000000000000000000000000001 percent, our sun would not exist, and, therefore, neither would we. Talk about precision! (p. 102)

Science uncovers puzzles, and it tends to resolve them. Let’s give it time.

If we reran the Big Bang over again to get another universe with the same fundamental constants, humans wouldn’t exist. A universe with humans is like being dealt a particular hand of cards, and if the deck were reshuffled and dealt again, we’d get a different hand. We care that we exist, but nature doesn’t. The only interesting question is whether life (or intelligent life) would exist in a different universe.

The most effective arguments from the Christian side are obtuse ones like this fine-tuning argument, and that shows the weakness of their position. Instead of obvious evidence for God (we’re told God deeply wants us to know him, so why isn’t his existence indisputable?), Christians must point to some oddity within nature as a clue. To paraphrase Winston Churchill, God has (for these apologists) devolved into “a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.”

GT next rambles on about the fine tuning of the Earth’s conditions, but I wonder, what fine tuning? Over the Earth’s 4.6 billion-year life, conditions have changed dramatically. For example, the oxygen level in the atmosphere is now 21%, but it’s varied wildly over the last 600 million years. Initially 0%, it has risen to over 30% for two long periods. The temperature has also changed, and the Snowball Earth hypothesis speculates that most or all of the water on earth may have been frozen in one or more periods before 650 million years ago. If life can thrive during these chaotic conditions, perhaps it’s a lot more robust than we imagine.

The Multiverse hypothesis—that our universe is just one of uncountably many other universes governed by different constants—is a corollary of well-established science (cosmic inflation) and nicely rebuts the challenge of fine tuning. To avoid repeating additional responses I’ve made before, I’ll just provide links: Sean M. Carroll’s response to fine tuning, some other innovative responses, and my response to a previous Frank Turek argument for fine tuning.

Problem of Divine Hiddenness

GT parrots the free-will argument given by C. S. Lewis in The Screwtape Letters:

The Irresistible and the Indisputable are the two weapons which the very nature of [God’s] scheme forbids Him to use. Merely to over-ride a human will (as His felt presence in any but the faintest and most mitigated degree would certainly do) would be for Him useless. He cannot ravish. He can only woo. (p. 31)

Oh, please. God is forbidden from making his presence known because then we’d know for sure that he exists? Adam, Eve, Abraham, Moses, and the others in the Old Testament had direct experience of God, and they didn’t complain. A stranger doesn’t impose on my free will when he comes into my sight. This childish argument is what you’d fall back on if there were no god.

This is Stupid Argument #19a, “God’s making himself plainly known would impose on your free will.”

The Road Runner Tactic

This is GT’s name for the trick of exposing a self-refuting statement, of turning a sweeping generalization back on itself. For example, if someone said, “There is no truth,” GT would ask in response, “Is that statement true?” to show that the statement refutes itself (p. 38). Or to “All truth is relative,” ask, “Is that a relative truth?”

If we supposed that GT encourages us to use precise language, this observation about self-refuting statements is helpful, but that’s not their goal. GT is more interested in sidestepping tough questions. Many of these self-refuting statements are simply poorly worded and can be easily salvaged into an incisive challenge. For example:

Bob the Atheist: “There is no absolute truth.”

Christian apologist: “That sounds like a pretty absolute statement to me, smart guy—you’ve undercut your own statement!”

Bob the Atheist: “Okay, fair point. Let me rephrase: I see no evidence for absolute moral truth. If you claim otherwise, provide the evidence.”

And then the conversation proceeds beyond this little roadblock. More.

Awe

We’re all subject to powerful feelings like awe, and GT imagine this as a point in their favor.

A recitation of [some scientific theory] certainly wouldn’t have expressed the awe the astronauts were experiencing [when they saw the Earth rise over the Moon]. (p. 111)

And analyzing love or courage or selflessness through brain chemistry might also be a bland explanation, but it could still be correct. Scientific theories don’t give awe, but science certainly does. Let’s remember that we got to the moon using science! The Bible’s insight about the moon is to describe it as “the lesser light to govern the night.” Uh huh—awe inspiring.

Genesis gives the uninformed speculations of a primitive desert tribe from 3000 years ago. If you want awe, use science. Try this experiment: go outside on a clear night. Hold out your hand, arm extended, and look at the nail of your little finger. That fingernail covers a million galaxies, and each galaxy has roughly 100 billion stars. Look at how vast the sky is compared to that one tiny patch. And how does the Bible treat this inconceivable vastness? “[God] also made the stars” (Gen. 1:16). Yawn. I get my awe from science, not from the Bible.

Science gives you the vastness of the universe, the energy of a supernova, the bizarreness of quantum physics, and the complexity of the human body. The writers of the Bible were constrained by their imagination, and there is so much out there that they couldn’t begin to imagine.

Continued in part 4.

Hain’t we got all the fools in town on our side?
And hain’t that a big enough majority in any town?
— Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

Image credit: Gisela Giardino, flickr, CC

And God is Not Good, Either

It’s the fourth anniversary of the Cross Examined blog! There have been over 1.5 million page views on the blog and 18,000 comments. I’ve written two books about the Christianity/atheism debate, Cross Examined: An Unconventional Spiritual Journey and A Modern Christmas Carol. Please spread the word, and tell your friends about the blog and books. I couldn’t do this without you.

In celebration, I’d like to repeat a post I wrote as an homage to the powerful speaker and eloquent author of God is not Great and much more, Christopher Hitchens (1949–2011). Hitchens fought nonsense till the end, and he has been an inspiration to me and countless other atheists. In my own small way, I hope I’m continuing the fight against nonsense.

Thanks, Christopher.

The child’s blessing goes, “God is great, God is good, let us thank him for our food.” Hitchens’ God is not Great is an eloquent rebuttal to the first claim of this prayer. Let’s consider here the second claim: God is good. Indeed, the Bible makes this clear: “Praise the Lord, for the Lord is good” (Psalm 135:3).

But does the dictionary agree? We must use words according to their meaning.

God’s barbarity

Here is what God commands about cities that refuse to submit to the Israelites: “Completely destroy them—the Hittites, Amorites, Canaanites, Perizzites, Hivites and Jebusites—as the Lord your God has commanded you” (Deuteronomy 20:17).

You and I know what “good” means. If you were a king or general and you ordered the genocide of those tribes—over ten million people, according to the Bible*—would you be considered good?

But you might say that this was wartime, and the rules were different. Yes it was wartime, but the Israelites were the invaders, displacing Canaanites from land they had occupied for centuries. God tells the Israelites to destroy the Amalekites: “Attack the Amalekites and totally destroy all that belongs to them. Do not spare them; put to death men and women, children and infants” (1 Samuel 15:3).

What could the infants have possibly done to deserve death?

Moses tells the Israelites that they must kill all of the Midianites, with one exception: “Now kill all the boys. And kill every woman who has slept with a man, but save for yourselves every girl who has never slept with a man” (Numbers 31:17–18).

Who’s ever heard any of these verses made the subject of a sermon?

The immoral commands don’t stop with genocide. Slavery wasn’t prohibited in the Bible; in fact, it was so much a part of everyday life that it was regulated. In the same way that God told the merchants to sell using fair weights and measures (Deuteronomy 25:15), he told the Israelites how to handle slaves—how to treat a fellow Israelite as a slave (Exodus 21:4–6 and Leviticus 25:39), how to sell your daughter into slavery (Exod. 21:7), how to decide when a beating was too harsh (Exod. 21:20–21), and so on.

Don’t pretend that biblical slavery was like indentured servitude. That was true for fellow Jews, but for non-Jews, it was good, old-fashioned slavery for life. “You may even bequeath them to your sons after you, to receive as a possession; you can use them as permanent slaves” (Lev. 25:44–46).

And this doesn’t even consider the Flood. Why drown his creation instead of poofing them out of existence? God may exist and he may be powerful, but can the word “good” be applied to a being who does this?

Let’s turn from God’s unsavory side to his attempts at encouraging good behavior. It’s odd that the Ten Commandments has room for “don’t covet” but no prohibitions against slavery, rape, genocide, or infanticide. Christopher Hitchens cuts through the problem:

It’s interesting to note that the tenth Commandment, do not covet, is given at a time when the Israelites wandering in the desert are kept alive with covetous dreams—of taking the land, livestock, and women from the people living in Palestine. In fact, the reason why injunctions against rape, genocide, and slavery aren’t in the Ten Commandments is because they’ll be mandatory pretty soon when the conquest of Palestine takes place. (Videos here and here.)

So in the Bible, they’re not crimes—they’re tools!

Christian defense

Christians respond in several ways.

1. But things were different back then. We can’t judge Jews in Palestine 2500 years ago with today’s standards.

Can we assent to these crimes at any time in history? I agree that standards of morality have changed, but Christians are supposed to reject moral relativism. They’re the ones who imagine an unchanging, objective morality. If slavery is wrong now, they must insist that it was wrong then.

2. But God’s actions are good—they just are. His actions are the very definition of good. That’s as fundamental a truth as we have.

Shouldn’t God follow his own rules? If God is the standard for goodness (Matthew 5:48), what else can this mean but that we should look to God’s actions as examples for us to follow?

Abraham made clear that God was held to the same moral standards as Man. He said, “Will not the Judge of all the earth do right?” as he argued against God’s plan to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah. And God agreed (Genesis 18:20–33).

If Christians modify the dictionary so that no action of God’s could ever be bad, assigning the word “good” to God’s actions says nothing. They hope to make an important statement with “God is good,” but debasing the dictionary makes the word meaningless.

Playing games with the dictionary causes other problems. If there are two supernatural agents, God and Satan, how do you tell which is which? If the one that controls our realm is “good” by definition, maybe we’re stuck with Satan and have simply convinced ourselves to call him good. That’s not a crazy idea, given the world’s natural disasters, disease, war, and other horrors. Imagine Satan ruling this world and convincing us that the death of an innocent child is part of a greater plan, if you can believe such a thing. And yet that’s the world we live in! People look at all the bad in the world and dismiss it, giving Satan a pass. (… Or are we giving God a pass? I can’t tell which.)

If this thinking is getting a bit bizarre, that’s the point. That’s what happens if you declare God’s actions good by definition.

3. But the Canaanites were terrible, immoral people! They sacrificed babies!

How reliable are the Bible’s analysis of the Canaanites’ morals? If these tales come from the Canaanites’ enemies, how objective are they? And even if the Canaanites did sacrifice babies, isn’t solving this with genocide like using a sledgehammer to swat a fly? Couldn’t an omniscient guy like God figure out a better way than genocide to encourage a tribe to improve their behavior?

4. C’mon—can’t you recognize exaggeration when you see it? This is just soldiers bragging around the campfire that grew until it was incorporated into Israelite lore. You don’t really believe the genocide stories, do you? Indeed, archeologists show no evidence of this mass slaughter.

Take your pick—is the Bible reliable history or not? I disagree with the Bible literalists, but at least they wouldn’t be so hypocritical as to abandon the Bible when it embarrasses them.

Christians who label some Bible passages exaggerations and others as history are using their own judgment to figure this out. I’m not complaining—that’s what I do myself—but they can’t then turn around and say that they get their guidance from the Bible. No, my friend—the interpretation comes from you, not the Bible!

5. A bad thing today sets us up for a greater good in the future.

This is no more plausible than the reverse: “a good thing today sets us up for a greater bad in the future.” Why imagine one over the other? Only because we presuppose God’s existence, the thing we’re trying to prove. And it’s ridiculous to imagine an omniscient God deliberately causing the Haiti earthquake and killing 300,000 because he can act no more precisely than this.

6. But God is unjudgeable. God said, “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts” (Isaiah 55:9). It’s presumptuous of us to judge God. If God says that the Amalekites deserved to die, that’s good enough for me.

Okay, let’s not judge God then. Let’s avoid labeling him. But then not only can we not label his shocking actions “bad,” we can’t label his pleasing actions “good.” The good God is no more.

And there’s more fallout from the “we imperfect humans can’t judge God” argument. Consider this from Bob Price:

[The ultimate certainty in your mind, the believer’s mind, is] the guarantee that [God] will honor that ticket to heaven he supposedly issued you. Here’s a troublesome thought. Suppose you get to the Day of Judgment and God cancels the ticket. No explanation. No appeal. You’re just screwed. Won’t you have to allow that God must have reasons for it that you, a mere mortal, are not privy to? Who are you, like Job, to call God to account?

Of course many Christians want it both ways. They want to judge God’s noble actions as “good” but withhold judgment for actions that any thoughtful person would find abominable. But if you can’t understand God’s actions when they look bad, why flatter yourself that you understand them when they look good?

Think of this as the Word Hygiene argument. You can either call a spade a spade and acknowledge God’s cruelty or say that he’s unjudgeable. Take your pick—either way, you can’t call him “good.”

Gullibility and credulity are considered undesirable qualities
in every department of human life—
except religion.
— Christopher Hitchens

(This is an update of a post that originally appeared 12/15/12.)

Image credit: Gerry Dincher, flickr, CC

* Here’s the math behind that figure: Israel had 600,000 men before entering Canaan (Ex. 12:37), or about two million people total. These six tribes are all larger than Israel (Deut. 7:1). That makes well over ten million people in the tribes God orders exterminated.

How Much Faith to Be an Atheist? (A Response to Geisler and Turek, Part 2)

I don’t have enough faith to be an atheist Norm Geisler Frank TurekThis is a continuation of my response to the Christian apologetics book I Don’t Have Enough Faith to Be an Atheist by Norm Geisler and Frank Turek. Read part 1 here.

For more information, I’d like to recommend a recent excellent and thorough critique by fellow Patheos atheist Jeffery Jay Lowder.

Let’s move on to some vaguely science-y arguments in I Don’t Have Enough Faith to Be an Atheist.

Cosmological Argument

Geisler and Turek (GT) uses the familiar form of this argument:

1. Everything that had a beginning had a cause

2. The universe had a beginning

3. Therefore, the universe had a cause (page 75)

Why the “that had a beginning” caveat? The phrase is obviously added to avoid the challenge, “But if the universe had a cause (let’s call it ‘God’), what caused God?” What that premise is trying to say is, “Everything had a beginning … except God.” That’s a remarkable claim, and we need evidence before we accept that God had no beginning.

GT labels premise 1 the “Law of Causality,” but an impressive label doesn’t make it right. In fact, the popular Copenhagen interpretation of quantum mechanics says that it’s wrong: at the quantum level, events don’t always have causes. When an electron comes out of a decaying nucleus, that event had no cause.

Even if “Everything that had a beginning had a cause” were always true, we’re talking about two different kinds of “begins to exist.” In our world, everything that begins comes from something else. The oak tree comes, not only from the acorn, but from sunlight, water, and carbon dioxide. Even quantum particles, virtual or otherwise, come from the matter or energy that was there before. But GT is talking about the universe, which they think came from absolutely nothing. Science knows of no examples of such thing happening, and we’ve entered the realm of science fiction. Or religion.

Another problem is that cause implies time. X wasn’t there, then the cause happened, and now X is there. But how does this make sense when there is no time before the Big Bang?

Here are a few more ideas:

  • This is just a deist argument. If I found it convincing, I’d still be far from Christianity.
  • Physicist Sean Carroll has responded to William Lane Craig’s attempt at this argument (my summary of that debate).
  • I write more about Christians’ attempts to defend against the rebuttal, “If God caused the universe, what caused God?” here.
  • Christian philosophers like Craig often introduce pop philosophy (that is, common sense labeled “philosophy”) into the conversation. This doesn’t help.

Thermodynamics

You know the witticism about knowing just enough to be dangerous? That’s GT within science. I just wish their readership were skeptical enough to catch their negligence.

If a wind-up clock is running down, then someone must have wound it up. (p. 77)

Why someone? Why not something? GT’s agenda is showing. Childish naiveté is appealing in a child; here it’s just tiresome.

Since we know of no other supernatural explanations for natural things, we won’t be starting now.

And most cosmologists accept the idea of a zero-energy universe in which the positive energy in things like matter is balanced by the negative energy in gravity. No, this appeal to thermodynamics fails. The universe isn’t running down; from a net energy standpoint, it’s doing nothing, and no scientific laws are violated.

Science and Genesis

GT handwaves about the “overwhelming evidence for the Big Bang and its consistency with the biblical account in Genesis” (p. 84).

Yes, the evidence for the Big Bang is overwhelming, but there are no clues to it in the six-day creation account in Genesis. Where in Genesis do you find the idea of a singularity? Inflation? Quantum physics? The unification of the four fundamental forces? 13.8 billion years?

You might respond that Genesis isn’t supposed to be a science textbook, and that’s fine. But someone who agrees with this shouldn’t try to jump on the science bandwagon now.

Here’s how GT could make its case. Give an unbiased person a copy of the six-day creation story in Genesis, and ask for a one-page summary of the main scientific points with no theology. Now get the same thing from a science perspective—say from middle school textbooks that cover cosmology, geology, and evolution. Compare the two summaries. You still think they would be consistent?

The Cause of the Universe revealed!

GT wants to find properties in the Big Bang that they can match up to with properties of the Christian god.

The First Cause must be self-existent, timeless, nonspatial, and immaterial (since the First Cause created time, space and matter, the First Cause must be outside of time, space, and matter). (p. 93)

Since science gave us information for the Big Bang, to merely use that as a launching point into conjecture, jettisoning science when it’s inconvenient and swapping in Christianity, reveals their agenda. Again. Science says, “We don’t know” when appropriate, and that’s a perfectly good answer when, in fact, we don’t know.

Science doesn’t imagine any being behind the Big Bang; there simply isn’t any evidence pointing there. But that doesn’t stop GT from loving and groundless speculation in that direction. They’ve already named it First Cause, so they’re halfway to God: it must also be “unimaginably powerful,” “supremely intelligent,” and “personal” (personal, because he chose to create the universe). And when you squint at the Bible, you find those properties an exact match for (drum roll!) the Christian god!

In light of the evidence, we are left with only two options: either no one created something out of nothing, or else someone created something out of nothing. Which view is more reasonable? … The most reasonable view is God. (p. 94)

What kind of proof is that? No one creates a crystal. At a higher level, no one creates a whirlpool. At a higher level still, no one creates a solar system. We have no examples of a supernatural being creating anything and myriad examples of nature creating things. Why imagine a supernatural being creating the universe?

And who says that what came before the universe (if that’s even a well-constructed idea) was nothing? Let’s leave the nice scientists alone and let them do their work. If any discipline will tell us more about the origin of the universe, it will be science. Religion has taught us nothing verifiable about reality.

Continued in part 3.

Science doesn’t make it impossible to believe in God,
it just makes it possible not to believe in God.
— Steven Weinberg

Image credit: NASA

How Much Faith to Be an Atheist? (A Response to Geisler and Turek)

I don’t have enough faith to be an atheist Norm Geisler Frank TurekI’d like to respond to the Christian apologetics book I Don’t Have Enough Faith to Be an Atheist by Norm Geisler and Frank Turek. It continues to be popular and needs a rebuttal.

What does “faith” mean?

Let’s pause for a moment to consider the word “faith” in the title. Atheists will charge that it means belief poorly grounded in evidence or even in contradiction to the evidence. To rehabilitate their poor relationship with evidence, many Christian apologists today argue the opposite. For example, Christian podcaster Jim Wallace says it’s “trusting the best inference from the evidence.” Presbyterian leader A. A. Hodge said, “Faith must have adequate evidence, else it is mere superstition.”

But the very title of Geisler and Turek’s book admits the opposite. They “don’t have enough faith to be an atheist,” and they’re not apologetic about it. “Faith” here has returned to our old, familiar definition: belief poorly grounded on evidence. In the Introduction, the authors make this clear: “The less evidence you have for your position, the more faith you need to believe it (and vice versa). Faith covers a gap in knowledge” (p. 26).

Characteristics of atheists (it’s not pretty)

I’ll refer to the book as GT (Geisler and Turek). Page numbers refer to the 2004 Crossway edition.

GT is certain that many or most atheists are really theists. Atheists already have enough evidence—they just willfully refuse to accept it.

[For many nonbelievers] it’s not that they don’t have evidence to believe, it’s that they don’t want to believe. (page 30)

Many non-Christians … take a “blind leap of faith” that their non-Christian beliefs are true simply because they want them to be true. (p. 30)

What we have here is a will problem—some people, despite the evidence, simply don’t want to admit there’s a Designer. (p. 112)

They have the evidence but refuse to believe it? Then what you’re describing is not an atheist.

He argues that even scientists have an agenda:

By admitting God, Darwinists would be admitting that they are not the highest authority when it comes to truth. Currently, in this technologically advanced world, scientists are viewed by the public as the revered authority figures—the new priests who make a better life possible and who comprise the sole source of objective truth. (p. 162)

So biologists can’t admit that God exists, not because of evidence, but because they’d be forced give up their authority? Religion has never taught us anything new about reality. Even if all scientists became Christian, science rather than theology would still be how we’d understand the world.

GT drops a final turd as it wrestles with the evidence necessary to believe:

God has provided enough evidence in this life to convince anyone willing to believe, yet he has also left some ambiguity so as not to compel the unwilling. (p. 31)

But Romans 1:20 says there’s no ambiguity: “God’s invisible qualities … have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.” You’d better confer with your Bible to get your story straight.

GT imagines that God plays games about evidence for his existence. Maybe God doesn’t want it too easy so that everyone gets it, and heaven gets crowded. He wants to keep out the riff-raff so heaven remains an exclusive gated community.

This becomes the free-will argument: God won’t force you to believe, because that would be an imposition. Of course, being forced to accept the existence of the stranger in the car ahead of you is not an imposition worth mentioning, but being forced to know the existence of the coolest guy in the universe would be a burden, so it’d be unfair to impose that on you. Or something.

GT provides no evidence but simply makes a sweeping claim, a claim that could be made by any believer. He could just as easily say that Allah or Zeus or the Flying Spaghetti Monster has given you plenty of evidence, so don’t tell me otherwise.

Hedonism

But why would atheists reject clear evidence for God? GT has uncovered the selfish reasons:

By ruling out the supernatural, Darwinists can avoid the possibility that anything is morally prohibited. (p. 163)

So atheists are just hedonists with no concern about the consequences of their actions?

If the atheists are right, then we might as well lie, cheat, and steal to get what we want because this life is all there is, and there are no consequences in eternity. (p. 68)

Wow—what planet are these guys from? How many atheists think that it’s fine to lie, cheat, and steal? Are the prisons filled with atheists? Do atheists not care about their reputations with their family and friends? Do atheists not have consciences?

Since you’ll agree, after a moment’s reflection, that atheists are indeed moral, maybe you should drop the “atheists have no morals” claim and wonder where they get their morals from. I predict it’s the same place where you do.

Atheism does indeed mean that “there are no consequence in eternity,” but (dang it!) there are consequences right here and now, so I’d better cancel my Saturday night orgy ’n bacchanalia.

[Instead of teaching Islam] wouldn’t it be better to teach [kids] the religious truth that God wants them to love their neighbors? (p. 68)

GT is probably thinking of verses like Leviticus 19:18, “Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against anyone among your people, but love your neighbor as yourself,” but “neighbor” meant fellow Jew in this case. In a few cases, neighborly affection was demanded for non-Jews living in Israel. But we can’t twist either interpretation to mean everyone in the world, which is the modern interpretation that GT would like to impose.

When it comes to non-Jewish neighbors, God thinks of slavery or genocide more often than love.

GT talks about biology a lot (more later), but here is the connection between what atheists think and morality.

By means of a one-sided biology curriculum, we teach kids that there’s really no difference between any human being and a pig. After all, if we’re merely the product of blind naturalistic forces—if no deity created us with any special significance—then we are nothing more than pigs with big brains. (p. 68)

Being scientifically accurate is such a pain. Who’s got time for the research? But since you won’t do it, I will: pigs and humans share a common ancestor from 95 million years ago. No, humans aren’t pigs with big brains.

If the clumsily made point is that evolution explains everything with no need for a designer to grant some sort of transcendental moral value, then yes, that’s true. Humans are no more special in a nonexistent god’s mind than pigs are.

I see no problem with that. Morality works just fine with no god—look up the word and tell me what part assumes a god. (But while we’re going off on tangents, I do see a problem with your moral equivalence between a single fertilized human egg cell and a newborn baby. In fact, there’s a spectrum of personhood.)

Frank Turek’s next train wreck

I’ll be following up with more posts rebutting the statements in this book, but let me touch on Turek’s most recent book, Stealing from God. It’s an expanded version of his CRIMES argument, an acronym for Cosmos, Reason, Information, Morality, Evil, and Science. He attempts to argue that these categories are strong evidence for the Christian position. I disagree.

Continued in part 2.

People almost invariably arrive at their beliefs not on the basis of proof
but on the basis of what they find attractive.
— Blaise Pascal
(ironically, quoted by GT on p. 51)

Image credit: mamabishop

Scientist Thinking vs. Lawyer Thinking

Consider the difference between a lawyer in the courtroom and a scientist in the university. The scientist is encouraged to share research with colleagues and ask for advice. Unless the scientist is working on confidential research, openness and camaraderie are essential parts of scientific research. Scientists must follow the evidence, even if that evidence leads them away from a cherished hypothesis.

Contrast that with how the lawyer works. The courtroom is an intentionally adversarial environment. There is no collegial give and take between the opposing sides of the issue, no meeting of the minds, no compromise. If I’m paying someone to represent me in court, that lawyer must present just one side of the case—mine. I want that lawyer to be biased and argue very effectively about just one side of the issue. Evidence is valuable only to the extent that it supports the lawyer’s side of the argument.

The opposition does the same thing from the opposite viewpoint, and a judge or jury decides the merits of the two cases.

The concept of double jeopardy (someone can’t be tried twice for the same crime) applies in the domain of lawyers, but there’s no equivalent within science. A hypothesis or theory is always provisional. Any claim can be revisited.

The thinking of the scientist contrasted with that of the lawyer is brainstorming vs. winner take all. It’s forum vs. battleground. It’s a search for the truth vs. a presupposition of one’s rightness. Scientists should be open to changing their mind and backing another hypothesis, while courtroom lawyers are obliged to stick with their position regardless of the evidence.

There’s nothing wrong with lawyer thinking in its place. But let’s not confuse it with scientist thinking. The mistake is using one when we imagine we’re using the other.

I once attended a debate in which an atheist and a Lutheran pastor debated “Does God exist?” At one point, the pastor, an old-earth Creationist, turned to the topic of evolution and demanded that we follow the evidence. This sounded bizarre given his rejection of the scientific consensus about evolution, but this was his way of giving himself license to make conclusions himself. He has no doctorate in biology, of course, but he pretends that as an armchair biologist he’s entitled to weigh the evidence and reject the results of 150 years of scientific research and the consensus of tens of thousands of people who actually are practicing biologists.

This is why I have little patience for philosopher William Lane Craig prancing around in an imaginary lab coat and playing make-believe as a scientist (more on that here). Or take the Reasons to Believe ministry, whose mission is “to show that science and faith are, and always will be, allies, not enemies.” They cherry-pick the science to support their preconceptions. This is lawyer thinking, not scientist thinking.

A popular Christian apologist is J. Warner Wallace. He’s a cold-case homicide detective, and he does his best to argue that the courtroom is a great analogy to how we should evaluate the evidence for the claims of Christianity. It isn’t. The courtroom is precisely where we shouldn’t go for an analogy.

Note that the lawyer’s approach isn’t necessarily unjustifiable outside the courtroom. One might wonder, “If we applied some smart minds to the God question, what supporting arguments could they find?” That’s a reasonable question as long as we don’t pretend that it’s a quest for the best explanation.

Lawyer thinking feels natural. Our imperfect brains are saddled with biases—one example is confirmation bias (noticing only the evidence that confirms what we already believe). These biases make lawyer thinking a natural rut for us to fall into, but it begins with the conclusion rather than following the evidence where it leads.

Lawyer thinking is like religious thinking, and they’re both like advertising. You focus on the good points in your case and ignore any bad ones. Admit to yourself when you adopt this view, and don’t pretend to be thinking like a scientist. Too often, these two positions are conflated or confused.

We all have biases. None of us enjoys being wrong, and each of us probably needs to rein in our lawyer thinking. That goes for me as well.

Too often I’ll read something with the unstated theme, “Here’s how I interpret the facts to support my presupposition.” More useful would be, “Here’s where the facts lead.”

In science it often happens that scientists say, 
“You know that’s a really good argument; my position is mistaken,”
and then they actually change their minds 
and you never hear that old view from them again. 
They really do it. 
It doesn’t happen as often as it should, 
because scientists are human and change is sometimes painful. 
But it happens every day. 
I cannot recall the last time something like that 
happened in politics or religion. 
— Carl Sagan

(This is an update of a post that originally appeared 12/12/12.)

Photo credit: Wikimedia

When My Rules Trump Yours

In the aftermath of 9/11, I worked with a group of concerned citizens in Seattle to create Pangea, a nonprofit that supports nonreligious community-building projects in East Africa, Central America, and Southeast Asia. In little more than a decade, it has awarded over a million dollars in grants. I’ve found an interesting parallel between the culture clash we had in trying to do good in the developing world and that between Christianity and reality.

When trying to improve living conditions in the developing world, one quickly hears cautionary tales about how well-intentioned efforts don’t turn out well. Here’s one: a few years ago, a high-tech executive who had been raised in Zimbabwe wanted to go back to help a community there. As a worthwhile project, he picked a busy dirt road that needed much improvement, but things were not as simple as they seemed. Simply giving money to the local department of transportation wasn’t enough. Palms had to be greased. After trying every avenue, there seemed to be no way to avoid paying extra for the bureaucrats to permit the work to happen.

Corruption was a problem for this executive but money was not, so instead of working through the system, he simply paid to have a road grader do the work. The work crew showed up on the assigned day, but so did one of the bureaucrats who had been bypassed, backed by armed soldiers. The road work never happened.

Pangea and culture clashes

With Pangea, we had similar clashes between our approach and the local approach. In some societies, a person who is better off is culturally obliged to help friends and family who have less, and sometimes the local accountants helped out the less fortunate with Pangea money. Helping the less fortunate was the goal of the project, of course, but bleeding off money threatened its success.

This wasn’t like the Zimbabwe problem—I don’t remember anyone taking money simply to make themselves richer—but the bigger issue was that as a 501(c)3, Pangea had an obligation to the IRS to see that the money was distributed as promised.

It’s important to understand local customs, and the last thing we wanted to be was the rich, know-it-all Westerners who would come in and remake the local environment to the correct, Western way. Indeed, the opposite was true, and we learned a lot. The projects were always initiated and run by local people. But the constraints on the money were nonnegotiable. We had made a promise to the IRS—a reasonable constraint in return for tax-free donations, which we were happy to enforce. Sorry—on money issues, these Western constraints must win out. If you’re a local organization that doesn’t like that constraint, that’s fine, but don’t apply for a grant from us.

Application to Christianity

This example made me think of two parallels with Christianity. First, when you’re a church that benefits from tax-free donations, you’ve made an agreement with the IRS. Stick to it. Remember “Let your ‘Yes’ be yes, and your ‘No,’ no” (James 5:12)?

Pulpit Freedom Sunday is one ridiculous example of civil disobedience where Christian preachers demand yet more concessions. They are delighted by tax-free money, but they don’t like the prohibition against electioneering that comes with it. If accepting a deal with the IRS is a pact with the devil, then don’t enter into the pact.

The second parallel is with local NGOs thinking that they can do things their own way, ignoring the contract they made with Pangea. Similarly, Christians sometimes want to come to conclusions their own special way, rather than using science, history, evidence, reason, and so on.

Reason is the way we find things. Understanding things by imagining communication from the Holy Spirit might be a venerable way to learn things in your religion, but don’t imagine that it works in the real world. You can imagine your own source of knowing, but reality trumps that.

Related posts:
“What do Churches Have to Hide?”
“Are Churches More Like Charities or Country Clubs?”

Cool: “I can’t do that because of my religion.”
Not cool: “You can’t do that because of my religion.”
— seen on the internet

Image credit: Bob Seidensticker