Anti-Choicers’ Misfire on the Fertility Clinic Hypothetical: a Response

Who knew that anti-choice advocates could go off the rails so inventively in response to a brief hypothetical argument posed in a series of tweets?

A few weeks ago, Patrick Tomlinson tweeted a scenario that I first wrote about over five years ago and that he says he’s been using for over ten years. In short, if a fertility clinic were on fire and you could save either a five-year-old child or a canister with a thousand human embryos, which would you save? Read the original in this Friendly Atheist post.

“An embryo is a child” is the foundational moral claim for many in the anti-choice* community, and the fertility clinic thought experiment nicely shows that, no it isn’t, even to them. Someone once observed, there’s nothing like a life-or-death predicament to help you get your priorities straight. You can pontificate at leisure about how things ought to be, but when you have seconds to decide between a child who would suffer unimaginable agony and a can of cells that not only won’t but can’t, you quickly realize what’s important.

Rebuttal

In what is the most impressive “Yes, but” tap dancing that I’ve seen in a long time, anti-choice advocates have a lot to say in response. I’ll look at three high-profile responses, by Matt Walsh (blogger), Ben Shapiro (editor of The Daily Wire, a conservative website), and Greg Koukl (Christian radio host).

Walsh and Shapiro admit up front that they would save the child, while Koukl won’t.

The next item on the agenda is the obligatory changing of the subject. Each author raises all manner of tangential topics, some interesting but some seemingly deliberate misdirections.

Before I give examples, let’s take a step back to remember the point of this exercise. Many anti-choicers tell us that an embryo is equivalent to a child. That is, they declare that the definition of “child” goes from, say, eight years old and goes all the way down to –9 months. It’s a child at eight years old, as a newborn, as a fetus, as a frozen embryo (which is a blastocyst with roughly 100 cells), and even as a single cell.

That’s the claim, but by saving the hypothetical child they’ve admitted that this claim is false. No, a child is much more valuable than a single cell. End of argument. There’s nothing more to say.

That’s where the “Yes, but” arguments come in. They want to change the subject. They want to have the last word. But the argument is over. It had the sole goal of undercutting their moral argument, and it succeeded. QED.

 


See also: Five Intuitive Pro-Choice Arguments


 

Change the subject

But for completeness and to illustrate the games they play, I want to list some of their arguments.

  • Walsh: “Yes, I would save the kid. No, that does not prove that the embryos have no value.” No one said it did.
  • Walsh: Leaving the embryos behind isn’t the same as killing them intentionally, and it doesn’t show that abortion is moral. The hypothetical argument doesn’t claim to prove that abortion is moral, just that “embryo = child” is false.
  • Shapiro: “Let’s say that it was your five-year-old in the room, and next door were 1,000 actual full-grown human adults. Your instinct would probably be to save your five-year-old. Mine would be. Does that make me right, or the 1,000 humans no longer human?” If “human” means “has Homo sapiens DNA,” then of course they’re human, but that’s off topic. You’ve already agreed that embryos aren’t children—that’s the point.
  • Shapiro: “We can agree with Tomlinson that one ought to save the five-year-old rather than the box of embryos and still not admit that embryonic life is meaningless.” Huh? Who said it was meaningless?
  • Koukl: “Moral dilemmas, by design, make us choose. But the choice doesn’t rebut the argument for the intrinsic value of embryonic human beings.” No, it rebuts the claim that embryos are children.
  • Koukl: “The fact that Sophie, in the film Sophie’s Choice, made the choice to save her son didn’t mean she thought her daughter wasn’t a valuable human being.” This is yet another change of subject. The subject is: embryos aren’t children.

Notice the word games in several of these. Keeping things simple doesn’t seem to be the goal, so we take “child” from the original challenge and add “human” and “human being” to the mix. Throw in Homo sapiens and “person,” and we’ve got a nice selection of terms that may or may not be synonyms. For some apologists, there’s nothing they like better than spending hours fileting the definition of a word to keep the debate away from an embarrassing area.

Concluded in part 2.

The mystery is how people can follow a religion
whose central theme from beginning to end is:
“Deity angry. Something gotta die.”
— commenter Lark 62

* Normally, I refer to the two camps as pro-life and pro-choice, but the obnoxious response by one author used “pro-abortion.” In fact, I am pro-abortion in the same way that I’m pro-amputation: no one enjoys a medical procedure, but sometimes they’re necessary. Nevertheless, that article encouraged me to use “anti-choice” as the reciprocal term for their side of the argument.

Image credit: Bailiwick Studios, flickr, CC

 

Movie Review: “Heaven Is for Real”

At age four, Colton Burpo visits heaven during an emergency operation. This isn’t a near-death experience, since he never died on the operating table. Nevertheless, he freaks out his parents as he tells them what he saw in heaven. This 2014 movie came from a book that claims to be a retelling of true events.

The movie opens with father Todd Burpo. He installs garage doors, and we see him installing a door at a carpet warehouse, taking carpet in trade (though he has bills to pay), and giving the carpet to the church. He’s the wrestling coach, he puts flowers at a grave, he’s a volunteer fireman, and he’s a pastor. Quite a guy.

In addition to his bills, God burdens him with some medical difficulties of his own, and then he has the close call with his son.

A pastor whose own son personally visited heaven? Sounds heavenly, but it causes division in the church. Sure, they’re good Christians who believe in heaven, but as a place that you could visit? You mean, like actually believe in heaven? They don’t want people laughing at their church.

It’s like the story of Peter getting out of prison in Acts 12. An angel frees him, and he returns to a house where supporters had been praying for his release. The servant runs to tell the supporters, but they think she’s crazy. They won’t believe that Peter was freed though that was precisely what they’d just been praying for.

Do modern Christians actually believe what they’re supposed to believe?

(Spoiler, of sorts.) The story culminates with a packed church. The press is there, curious to hear more about this nutty story. There are the church elders, who have given Todd an ultimatum—get the church back on a sensible track or else. His wife and two kids are there, and this experience has been challenging for all of them. There’s even the psychology professor who Todd had visited to get more information about claims of heavenly visits. As an atheist, she stands in for the skeptics in the audience.

Todd’s job and reputation are on the line.

He begins by suggesting to the congregation that if they actually did believe in heaven, they’d all lead different lives. But what is heaven? It’s simply the best of life on earth—“on earth as it is in heaven,” as the Lord’s Prayer says.

This is the “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus” approach to heaven. Do you believe in sunsets, puppy dogs, and children? Well, there you go—that’s heaven. Bypassing the supernatural makes this easy to accept, but I don’t think everyone will be satisfied.

Pastor Todd brings the church community together, keeps his job, and soon discovers that his wife is pregnant again. After a few years, his money problems are taken care of, too. The book, written with the help of Sarah Palin’s ghost writer, was a bestseller in 2010, and the movie pushed it back to the top of the bestseller lists.

The journey of this story parallels that of the gospel story. We’re seeing a movie, which came from a book, which was the result of an editorial process on a draft written by an outside author, which came after years of oral history within a Christian household.

As a sweet Christian story, this movie works fine. It’s not my cup of tea, but then I’m not the intended audience. But, as usual, the claim of serious evidence to support the towering claim that the universe has a supernatural creator falls flat. The boy’s testable claims of things he could only have learned in heaven are that (1) he saw his parents in separate rooms in the hospital as he had his out-of-body experience, (2) he could identify his father’s grandfather by a photo, and (3) he knew that his mother had had a miscarriage. That’s it. Like the stories of modern-day appearances of Mary, limbs growing back, and dead being resurrected, I await serious evidence. (I’ve written about fallible memory here and tales growing over time here.)

The story is bookended by Akiane Kramarik (a real person, now 19) who paints about her impressions of heaven after God spoke to her when she was three. Colton confirms that, yes, her painting is a correct rendering of Jesus. Apparently we’re to connect the dots. God isn’t so hidden after all. He’s planting visions of heaven in the minds of children.

A tip for God: next time, give a camera crew a visit to heaven. The evidence would be more believable.

Not only is there financial motivation for the family to push this story, accurate or not, but the publisher and every other company in the distribution chain is so motivated. Where’s the vetting? Where’s the skepticism? These may be silly questions when there’s money to be made, but someone has to at least ask.

There has been some pushback. The boy behind another visitation book, The Boy Who Came Back from Heaven (the ironically named Alex Malarkey), admitted that the story was invented, and the publisher, Tyndale House, has since stopped selling the book. Shortly afterwards, LifeWay, one of the largest Christian bookstores, announced that it would drop the entire genre of “heaven visitation resources.”

I wonder how hard it was to do the right thing.

At age 4, the inability to distinguish 
between fantasy and reality is charming. 
Among American adults, widespread identification 
with the mind of a preschooler is scary.

Only in America could a book like this 
be classified as non-fiction.
— Susan Jacoby, commenting on the book

(This is an update of a post that originally appeared 4/16/14.)

Photo credit: Deadline

25 Stupid Arguments Christians Should Avoid (Part 14 and counting)

stupid christian arguments

Hey—don’t blame me. I’d stop listing stupid arguments if Christians would stop making them.

The discussion of these arguments begins here (go to the appendix at that post for a list of all these arguments to date).

Stupid argument #44: Time’s up! Now answer all the fundamental questions of science.

To illustrate this stupid argument, here are comments by popular apologist J. Warner Wallace (audio interview @ 20:30). When an atheist, he says, he wondered if he was justified in believing “that everything in the universe could be accounted for with nothing more than just space, time, matter, and the laws of physics and chemistry—because that’s all I would have to work with if atheism was true.” I guess he was an inquisitive guy, because he had a lot on his mind:

Does that explain the universe the way we see it? Can it explain the beginning of the universe, the fine tuning of the universe, can it explain the origin of life or the appearance of design in biology, can it explain consciousness or free agency or objective transcendent moral truths? Everyone has to explain evil, whether you’re a theist or a nontheist. These are the things that everyone has a burden to explain.

Let’s first clear away the smoke to see what is actually being argued here. The universe began with the Big Bang, though I imagine his question is what caused that. Fine tuning of constants in the universe is curious, though not much of an argument for God (discussed here and here). The origin of life (abiogenesis) is indeed a puzzle, though too much is made of the appearance of design, which is neatly explained by evolution. Science does have questions about consciousness, though there’s no evidence of objective morality (see here and here). And the Problem of Evil asks why a good god allows bad things to happen. Atheists don’t propose a god, so this is precisely a problem for Christians.

So what’s left? The cause of the Big Bang and abiogenesis are important research areas, with consciousness and perhaps free will as additional challenges. After dismissing the tangential issues, we’re left with the observation that science has questions to answer. That’s true. And obvious. Why then the long list of questions? Because it sounds stupid to come right out and say, “There will always be questions within science, but ‘God did it’ can explain them all; therefore, God.”

Wallace demands, “These are the things that everyone has a burden to explain,” but his sense of urgency is groundless. Yes, there are unanswered questions, but so what?

[Then I examined] the universe from the perspective of my philosophical naturalism to see if my atheism had any explanatory power.

Sure it does, just not in the field of science. While the Christian claim “God did it” has no evidence backing it and is unfalsifiable (and therefore useless as an explanation), the hypothesis “there is no god” does follow the evidence and neatly untangles the tough problems that tie Christians in knots (more here).

[I already accepted] several extra-natural explanations as an atheist, because if nature is just space, time, matter, and physics, well there’s lots of things that those things won’t account for, and so I’ve got to step out of my naturalism just to explain those things and so what am I doing here?

Time’s up—I need the answers now! No, I’m sorry, “Science is working on it” will not be accepted as an answer. You must completely explain all remaining scientific questions right now.

Or at least that’s how apologists like Wallace imagine things. For some reason, we shouldn’t look for further progress from the discipline that has given us our modern technology-intensive world. No, we should rely on the discipline that weaves contradictory stories about the supernatural, that has no use for evidence, and that has never taught us anything accurate about reality.


See also: Christianity’s Bogus Claims to Answer Life’s Big Questions


Stupid argument #45: Well, aren’t you arrogant! Who are you to judge God?

Here’s a comment from this blog that illustrates the popular Christian idea that we mortals are in no position to judge God’s actions.

I am completely clueless as to what you think could possibly give you the right to Judge God. Unlike you, God knows all things and He brought the universe into existence for a reason. You don’t have to like it that God created people knowing they would end up in hell, or suffer on earth, or be blessed for a while, or whatever it might be. But what right do they have to look into the infinite heavens, raise their fist, and bring a righteous charge against the infinite God of the universe?

The first problem, of course, is the Hypothetical God Fallacy (Stupid Argument #33). You don’t just assume the incredible Christian claims and proceed from there, but that is the assumption behind the claim, “Who are you to judge God?”

If we don’t assume God, which is the only reasonable option for an outsider to Christianity, then we’re not judging God but judging claims about God. No believer can ask anything more from us than that we evaluate their supernatural claims. What’s the alternative? To simply accept Christians’ claims about God? No, the buck stops here, and we’re the ones to judge.

The problem is that the Christian claims suck. The Christian is usually eager to judge God but only when the conclusion would be “God is good.” When a negative conclusion is possible, they tell us that no one can judge God.

And with the biblical God, a negative conclusion is inevitable. A god who is all-loving but commands genocide and sanctions slavery? A god who is eager for a relationship but won’t provide evidence of his existence? A god who is just and fair but demands belief in the unbelievable to get into paradise? Nope—that’s not a good God (more).

Christians seem to want to treat God like a celestial baby. With a human baby, people excuse its messes since it doesn’t know better, but then that’s how they treat God as well. When someone wants to judge God’s actions by adult standards—nothing difficult, just basic morality—these Christians step in and say that that’s not fair. God can’t do wrong, by definition. If he does something that would be wrong if you did it, we’re just supposed to call that “right” since it’s God who did it.

Like the baby who needs a diaper, God can’t even defend himself. What does it say that Christians treat God like a baby? And that they demand that we avoid judging his actions?

Continued in part 15.

Of the two great, evil, criminal gangs to emerge out of Italy,
why is the Mafia the one that gets most of the bad press?
RichardSRussell

Image credit: Mark, flickr, CC

Guest Post: Why We Atheists Ridicule Theists

This is a guest post by a long-time commenter at this blog, Richard S. Russell. Richard is a retired research analyst (Wisconsin Department of Public Instruction) and long-time activist in the realms of atheism, science fiction, and liberal politics. He has more opinions than any ten people should legally be allowed to have but makes up for it by giving them away as fast as possible. He blogs irregularly at richardsrussell.blogspot.com.

Guest Post

For years, CNN.com published essays on what they called their Belief Blog — something to do with religion and occasionally atheism. And I’d often join other atheists in the comment section as we pointed out the many, many flaws, fallacies, and outright lies in the cases the religionists are trying to make. I in particular often favored humor in my observations, but I’m hardly alone in that regard. And this has led any number of religionists to whine that we have no respect for them or their faith, and that we’re just mean to poke fun at them.

I don’t deny that I derive a certain glee in doing so, but I submit that it’s a perfectly normal, utterly human reaction, in defense of which I offer up one of Jesus’s favorite tactics …

= = = = = =  T H E   P A R A B L E  = = = = = =

You’re sitting around your favorite table at the corner tavern with the usual gang, when your friend Norm comes in, all excited.

“Norm, where ya been, buddy?”

“Guys, you’re not gonna believe this, but I swear it’s true, every word of it. I was just leaving the house and heading for my car when I heard voices coming from my back yard. That was strange, so I went around back to see what it was. And you’ll never believe what I saw.”

“So don’t keep us in suspenders, what was it?”

“It was a leprechaun. And he was talking to the Easter Bunny. Not exactly talking, they seemed to be arguing, but they were using some language I couldn’t understand. Loud, though, that’s why I heard them all the way around the front of the house.”

Some sniggering, but Bob down at the end of the table rises to the bait. “Easter Bunny, huh? How do you know it was the Easter Bunny and not just a regular rabbit?”

Norm shoots the questioner a reproachful look. “Because he was 6 feet tall and wearing a polka-dot vest. And talking! OK? And while I was just standing there goggling, the leprechaun reaches behind his ear and pulls out a big gold coin and just throws it at the bunny, like he’s really mad or something.”

“Oh, do go on!”

“Well, I kind of slid into the shadows, hoping they wouldn’t see me, and just then the flying saucer shows up.”

“Flying saucer, eh? We’ll probably get lots of coverage of that on the news tonight, then?”

“No, probably not, because it was only about the size of my hand when it appeared. I didn’t even see it coming, it just settled down on the lawn out of the sky. And then it suddenly just grew, right before my eyes. Got about as big as my garage. And then …”

“Yeah, then a little green man came out, right?”

“Will you please shut up and let me tell it? I was there, and you weren’t! Yes, he was little and had those big almond-shaped eyes you always see in the movies, but he wasn’t green, more grayish. And only 3 fingers on each hand. And he didn’t say anything but he kept waving his arm at the other 2, trying to get them on board the saucer.”

“And did they go?”

“The leprechaun did. Right away. Just scooted in past the space alien. But the bunny didn’t look like he wanted to, and you could tell that the little green man, I mean gray man, was getting irritated, because he waved harder and stamped his foot. Finally the Easter Bunny hopped on up the ramp and got on. Had to duck a bit to get through the doorway.”

“Norm, if you think …”

“Will you wait a minute? Then the opening in the side of the ship just closed up, the saucer shrank back down to about hand size again and took off straight up, faster than I’ve ever seen anything move. It was out of sight in about 10 seconds. So that’s what happened and why I’m late.”

And everybody else just looks at each other and then busts out laughing. Norm is miffed. “I’m telling you, that’s exactly what happened!”

“Norm, my friend, we are just simple everyday working guys. Our drug of choice is beer. What on Earth have you been smoking?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all! Haven’t had a drop to drink, either. I’m stone-cold sober.”

“Been doing a little experimental cooking with mushrooms, then, have you?”

“No! I’m telling you that’s exactly what happened. God’s honest truth. Would I lie to you?”

A round of nods and a chorus of “Oh, yeah!”s, and Norm gets really pissed and stomps off.

= = = = = =  T H E   E N D  = = = = = =

OK, be honest, now. You would’ve made sport of Norm, too, wouldn’t you? What an incredible crock! He’s practically begging for scorn and ridicule.

And if, in the coming days and months, Norm stuck to his guns and continued to insist that his account was true, despite lack of any evidence whatsoever, you’d eventually fear that your buddy had suffered some kind of psychotic break and start urging him to seek professional help.

But at least Norm had the advantage of claiming first-hand, personal, eyewitness experience. And, no matter how far-fetched his tale, it didn’t contain any outright impossibilities. How much crazier do you have to be to solemnly subscribe to the even more incredible BS from the Bible, all of which (supposedly) happened 2,000 years ago and is attested to only by 4 pseudonymous authors, otherwise unknown to history, who didn’t even live thru the events they wrote about?

And you religionists wonder why we jeer, scoff, roll our eyes, and poke fun at you. Put yourselves in our position, and imagine the self-restraint we have to use to hold it down to only that. The only reason we take you at all seriously is because you wield political power and have historically shown that you’re perfectly willing to barbecue people like us for pointing out your idiocies, so you’re not merely pathetically funny, you’re irrationally dangerous.

People who don’t want you to laugh at their beliefs
shouldn’t believe such funny things.
— Anonymous

Computing the Probability of God

probability of god

Have you heard of the Drake equation? It’s a simple product of seven values, and it attempts to compute the number of civilizations in our galaxy with whom radio communication might be possible.

Now that we have found clear evidence of planets around other stars, the equation is slightly more practical than when it was first proposed over a half-century ago, but it still demands reliable figures for factors we can now only guess at: the fraction of planets in the average solar system that could potentially support life, the fraction of those that produce life, that continue on to develop intelligent life, whose intelligent life develops technology, and so on.

How likely is God?

We have a similar problem when we evaluate the claims of Christianity.

Physicist Stephen Unwin wrote The Probability of God (2004) and, yes, he proposes to compute the likelihood that God exists. He uses Bayes’ theorem (I wrote an introduction to Bayes’ theorem here). You can take his equation below as a given, or you can see how it is derived from a more conventional form of Bayes’ theorem in the appendix. You’ll soon see that the interesting part isn’t the math but the assumptions that Unwin makes.

Probability of God

We start with a beginning probability of God’s existence, Pbefore. Use a scaling factor D—Unwin’s “divine indicator,” which is a measure of the likelihood of God given certain evidence—we compute Pafter. Unwin uses values of D from 10 (given a particular bit of evidence, God is much more likely to exist than not) to 0.1 (given this evidence, God is much less likely to exist).

Once he has a new probability Pafter, he uses that value as his new Pbefore and repeats the computation with another value of D, reflecting the likelihood of God given another piece of evidence. The computation is quite simple. The unreliable part, as with the Drake equation, is determining the probabilities.

Unwinding Unwin

We need an initial probability—the likelihood of God given no evidence. Unwin uses Pbefore = 0.5 and calls this “maximum ignorance.”

His first bit of evidence is evidence for human goodness. For this, he uses D = 10 (God is much likelier given that human goodness exists). Plug in the numbers, and the equation gives Pafter = 0.91. The equation simply provides a way to merge these different factors into a single probability for God. Here are his six factors with their associated D values:

  • Human goodness, such as altruism (D = 10)
  • Existence of moral evil—that is, evil done by humans (D = 0.5)
  • Existence of natural evil such as natural disasters (D = 0.1)
  • Minor miracles such as answered prayers (D = 2)
  • Major miracles that break the rules—a dead person brought back to life, for example (D = 1)
  • Evidence of religious experience such as feelings of awe (D = 2)

And after all that, the probability of God is 0.67. God is likelier to exist than not.

It’s math! How you gonna disagree with that?

(Let me note that I haven’t read Unwin’s book but instead have relied on helpful critiques by Vic Stenger and The Friendly Atheist.)

I take exception to Unwin’s assumptions. First, let’s revisit our starting probability about God. Does Zeus exist? Thor? Osiris? Shiva? Quetzalcoatl? If the answer is “Are you serious? Of course not!” then why do we start with a 0.5 probability for Yahweh, especially when he looks like just another Canaanite god?

If Unwin wants to dismiss this information at the starting gate, I can accept that. But then let’s add it in as a new factor:

  • Humans have a passion for inventing supernatural gods. Believers make contradictory claims, so most of these claims must be false. Yahweh looks like just one invented god. (D = .001)

Next, let’s reevaluate Unwin’s six factors.

  • Goodness: Altruism exists in humans. This isn’t surprising since we’re social animals. Evolution has selected us with an innate sense of the Golden Rule. The Christian view also explains good traits in humans, so this gives no preference either way. (D = 1)
  • Moral evil: Humans do terrible things sometimes, and the natural explanation has no trouble with this. But Man made in God’s image with an innate sense of God’s existence? The popular free will defense fails. No, this Christian claim maps poorly to the unpleasant reality. (D = 0.01)
  • Natural evil: Indiscriminate killers like natural disasters, disease, and other calamities—things that an omnipotent God could eliminate—are hard for Christianity to explain. Birth defects and other gratuitous evil compound the problem. (D = 0.0001)
  • Miracles: The Bible says, “Ask and ye shall receive,” but prayers aren’t answered the way the Bible promises, not even the selfless ones. Coincidences abound, but we have little besides wishful thinking to imagine that they are the work of God. (D = 0.001)
  • Rule-breaking miracles: Jesus promised, “Whoever believes in me will do the works I have been doing, and they will do even greater things than these,” but science knows of zero amputated limbs that have grown back or dead people supernaturally returned to life. Surely there have been millions of earnest prayers for these, but they have been unanswered. (D = 0.0001)
  • Religious experience: We feel awe in response to both natural realities and supernatural claims. (D = 1)

The probability is now down to 10–16, but we’re just getting started. There are lots more uncomfortable facts about Christianity.

Piling on: more factors to consider

The probability of God is now basically zero (10–38 if you’re keeping score at home).

The apologist might demand equal time for the Transcendental Argument, the Design Argument, the Moral Argument, and so on. I don’t think they get out of the gate (click on the links for more).

The underlying problem with Unwin’s argument is that different people will weigh the factors differently. Clues for God’s existence aren’t unambiguous. I’m sure you thought that at least some of my numbers above were off, and you may have thought of other facts that have been overlooked. Nevertheless, the attempt to make the God question quantitative, interesting though it may be, seems hopeless.

The subtitle of Unwin’s book is A Simple Calculation That Proves the Ultimate Truth. Yes, it’s a simple calculation, but no, it doesn’t prove God. In fact, the evidence points in the opposite direction.

All Westboro [Baptist Church] was 
was evangelical Christianity minus polite behavior.
— Frank Shaeffer interview on Point of Inquiry

(This is an update of a post that originally appeared 04/09/14.)

Photo credit: Andy Melton, flickr, CC

 

Appendix:

Bayes’ theorem is easy to understand visually by using a probability tree. See my introductory post for a discussion of that. It’s less easy to understand (for me, anyway) through equations.

Here’s the derivation of the equation used by Unwin, starting with Bayes’ theorem. We’re computing P(G | E), the probability (P) of God existing (G) given (|) the evidence (E). Bayes’ theorem says:

Probability of God

where P(~G) is the probability of God not existing. Define D as follows:

Probability of God

D is Unwin’s “divine indicator,” the scaling factor that represents how likely the evidence E would be if God existed rather than God not existing. Now multiply top and bottom of Bayes’ equation by 1/P(E | ~G):

Probability of God

Since P(~G) = 1 – P(G),

Probability of God

Or, using the terminology of Unwin:

Probability of God

Dismantling the Noah Story

noah

We’ve explored “Noah” the movie. Now let’s turn to Genesis to see what the Noah story actually says: Yahweh saw that mankind had become wicked, and he regretted his creation. “It grieved him to his heart.” He resolved to wipe man from the face of the earth, plus all the animals, “for I am sorry that I have made them.” (Genesis 6:6–7)

Noah was the one righteous exception, so God told him to take his family into an ark. God also commanded that he take seven pairs of all clean animals plus one pair of all other animals. After a week to get everything on board, it rained for 40 days and 40 nights. Water covered even the highest mountains, drowning everything—animals, birds, and humans.

After 40 days [this was presumably an additional 40 rain-free days, though the text is unclear], Noah sent out a dove to scout for dry land, but it returned. After a week, he tried again, and the dove returned with an olive leaf, showing that some land was dry. He sent out the dove again a week later, and it didn’t return.

Noah went to the top of the ark and saw that the land was dry. He left the ark and built an altar and sacrificed one of every clean animal to Yahweh. Yahweh was pleased, and he thought: I will never again destroy life on earth, because man is inherently evil. While the earth exists, I will preserve it.

Another version

Does that sound familiar? See what you think about this version:

Noah had three sons, Shem, Ham, and Japheth. Noah was righteous, but the earth was corrupt, and man was violent. Elohim decided to flood the earth and kill everything, and he gave Noah instructions for building an ark. It had to be 300 × 50 cubits in area, and 30 cubits tall. It needed three decks, with a door in the side and a roof on top, and it must be covered in pitch.

Noah, his family, and one pair of every living thing would be safe in the ark. They must bring provisions for them and the animals.

When Noah was 600 years old, on the 17th day of the 2nd month [I’ll abbreviate this as 2/17], “the fountains of the great deep burst forth and the windows of the heavens were opened.” Noah, his family, and the chosen animals boarded the ark. Everything else—animals and human—drowned.

The water covered the earth for 150 days, but then Elohim made a wind blow, and the water receded. The sources of the water closed. On 7/17, the ark rested in the mountains of Ararat. By 10/1, the tops of the mountains were visible.

Noah sent out a raven to see when the land was dry.

By 1/1, the ground was dry [presumably just the nearby land], and by 2/27, the earth was dry. Noah, his family, and the animals left the ark, and Elohim told them to “be fruitful and multiply.”

Contrast the two accounts

Both versions are in Genesis. The first version was from the J source (J because this source refers to God as “Jehovah,” which is another way of saying “Yahweh”). The second version was from the P (“Priestly”) source. They are interleaved to make Genesis chapters 6–8. (I used Richard Friedman’s The Bible with Sources Revealed and Who Wrote the Bible? to identify the two sources.)

Note the differences in our Noah accounts.

  • God has different names: Yahweh in J and Elohim in P.
  • Yahweh acts like a human—he regrets and grieves—while Elohim doesn’t.
  • In the J account, the flood comes from rain. In the P account, water poured in from the two great sources—the fresh water underneath and the salt water in the dome above: “the fountains of the great deep burst forth and the windows of the heavens were opened.” This cosmology comes from the Sumerian creation myth, which we see in Genesis 1, which is also from the P source:

And God said, “Let there be a vault between the waters to separate water from water.” So God made the vault and separated the water under the vault from the water above it. And it was so. God called the vault “sky.”

And God said, “Let the water under the sky be gathered to one place, and let dry ground appear.” And it was so. God called the dry ground “land,” and the gathered waters he called “seas.” And God saw that it was good. (Genesis 1:6–10)

  • J uses a dove, and P uses a raven.
  • J demands seven pairs of clean animals, but P demands only one pair. This is because only J has a sacrifice at the end of the trip, and you can’t sacrifice animals if they’re the only ones of their species.
  • P gives details of the ark’s construction and detailed dates (Noah was 600 years old, plus the precise dating of milestones), while J has none of this.
  • In J, the rain lasts for only 40 days, and the entire ordeal takes less than 100 days. In P, 150 days is mentioned, and Noah’s family is on the ark for over a year.

Note also what is the same. Both stories have an introduction that explains that the world was wicked but Noah was good. In the interleaved story, this appears redundant, but this is an additional clue that they were originally independent stories that needed their introductions.

Amusingly, one of God’s justifications is that the earth was full of violence (Gen. 6:11). So what does he do? He responds with a record-setting amount of violence. (Maybe irony hadn’t been invented yet.) It’s also interesting that when God told Abraham about his plans to destroy Sodom, Abraham protested (Gen. 18), and when God wanted to destroy the Israelites after the golden calf fiasco, Moses protested (Exodus 32). But when God wants to destroy the entire world, Noah says nothing in protest.

I’ve written more about the illogic of the Noah flood story here.

Documentary Hypothesis

The theory explaining many of the duplications and different perspectives jumbled throughout the Pentateuch (the first five books of the Bible) is called the Documentary Hypothesis. It hypothesizes four different sources, with J and P being two of them. There are other doublets besides the two Noah stories—two creation stories, two Goliath stories, two stories of Abraham lying about his wife Sarah to a king, and so on—and the Documentary Hypothesis nicely explains them.

60% of Americans insist that the Noah’s ark story is literally, word-for-word true, but a far better explanation is that it is a composite of several sources of Mesopotamian mythology.

The man who prays is the one who thinks
that god has arranged matters all wrong,
but who also thinks that he can instruct god
how to put them right.
— Christopher Hitchens, Mortality

(This is an update of a post that originally appeared 3/31/14.)