Can Belief in Man Substitute for Belief in God?

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The fact and extent of natural and moral evil make belief in a providential power difficult. But they also make belief in man and human progress difficult. There is the opium of religion, but also that of future-oriented utopian naturalisms such as Marxism. Why is utopian opium less narcotic than the religious variety?

And isn’t it more difficult to believe in man than in God? We know man and his wretchedness and that nothing much can be expected of him, but we don’t know God and his powers.  Man is  impotent to ameliorate his condition in any fundamental way. We have had centuries to experience this truth, have we not? Advances in science and technology have brought undeniable benefits but also unprecedented dangers. The proliferation of nuclear, chemical, and biological weapons, their possession by rogue states and their terrorist surrogates, bodes ill for the future of humanity. As I write these lines, the prime minister of a middle eastern state calls brazenly and repeatedly for the destruction of another middle eastern state while the state of which he is the prime minister prepares the nuclear weapons to carry out the unspeakably evil deed.  Meanwhile the rest of the world is complacent and appeasing.  We know our ilk and what he is capable of, and the bases of rational optimism seem slim indeed.

There is also the scarcely insignificant point that there is no such thing as Man, there are only individual men, men  at war with one another and with themselves.  We are divided, divisive, and duplicitous creatures.  But God is one. You say God does not exist? That may be so. But the present question is not whether God exists or not, but whether belief in Man makes any sense and can substitute for belief in God. I say it doesn't and can’t, that it is a sorry substitute if not outright delusional. We need help that we cannot provide for ourselves, either individually or collectively. The failure to grasp this is of the essence of the delusional Left, which, refusing the tutelage of tradition and experience, and having thrown overboard every moral standard,  is ever ready to spill oceans of blood in pursuit of their utopian fantasies.

There may be no source of the help we need. Then the conclusion to draw is that we should get by as best we can until Night falls, rather than making things worse by drinking the Left's utopian Kool-Aid.

Is Sin a Fact? A Passage from Chesterton Examined

A correspondent asked me my opinion of the following passage from G. K. Chesterton:

Modern masters of science are much impressed with the need of beginning all inquiry with a fact. The ancient masters of religion were quite equally impressed with that necessity. They began with the fact of sin — a fact as practical as potatoes. Whether or no man could be washed in miraculous waters, there was no doubt at any rate that he wanted washing. But certain religious leaders in London, not mere materialists, have begun in our day not to deny the highly disputable water, but to deny the indisputable dirt. Certain new theologians dispute original sin, which is the only part of Christian theology which can really be proved. Some followers of the Reverend R. J. Campbell, in their almost too fastidious spirituality, admit divine sinlessness, which they cannot see even in their dreams. But they essentially deny human sin, which they can see in the street. The strongest saints and the strongest sceptics alike took positive evil as the starting-point of their argument.

What Chesterton is saying is that sin is a fact, an indisputable fact, whether or not there is any cure for it. Not only is sin a fact, original sin is a fact, an observable fact one can "see in the street." Chesterton also appears to be equating sin with positive moral evil.

Is moral evil the same as sin? If yes, then the factuality of moral evil entails the factuality of sin. But it seems to me that moral evil is not the same as sin. It is no doubt true — analytically true as we say in the trade — that sins are morally evil; but the converse is by no means self-evident. It is by no means self-evident that every moral evil is a sin.  Let me explain.

A. E. Taylor on F. H. Bradley on Religion

The following quotations are from A. E. Taylor's "F. H. Bradley" which is an account of his relation with the great philosopher, an account published in Mind, vol. XXXIV, no. 133 (January 1925), pp. 1-12. A. E. Taylor is an important philosopher in his own right whose works, unfortunately, are little read nowadays.

Bradley as a Religious Man

I am confident that no one who knew Bradley personally at any time would have supposed him to be anything but what he actually was, an intensely religious man, in the sense of a man whose whole life and thought was permeated by a conviction of the reality of unseen things and a supreme devotion to them.

Bradley on Bibliolatry

Is There Any Excuse for Unbelief? Romans 1: 18-20

Rather than quote the whole of the Pauline passage at Romans 1: 18-20, I'll summarize it. Men are godless and wicked and suppress the truth. What may be known about God is plain to them because God has made it plain to them. Human beings have no excuse for their unbelief. "For since the creation of the world, God's invisible qualities — his eternal power and divine nature — have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made . . . ."

Paul's claim here is that the existence and nature of God are evident from creation and that unbelief is a result of a willful turning away from the truth.   There is no excuse for unbelief because it is a plain fact that the natural world is divine handiwork.  Now I am a theist and I am sympathetic to Christianity. But although I have one foot in Jerusalem, the other is  planted firmly in Athens (philosophy, the autonomy of reason). And so I must point out that to characterize the natural world as 'made' or 'created' begs the question in favor of theism. As begging the question, the Pauline claim about the evidentness of the world's being created offers no support for theism.  It is an analytic proposition that there is no creation without a creator. So if the heavens and the earth are a creation, then it follows straightaway that a creator exists.

But is the world a divine creation? This is the question, and the answer is not obvious. That the natural world is a divine artifact is not evident to the senses, or to the heart, or to reason. Of course, one can argue for the existence of God from the existence and order of the natural world. I have done it myself. But those who reject theistic arguments, and construct anti-theistic arguments, have their reasons too, and it cannot fairly be said that what animates the best of them is a stubborn and prideful refusal to submit to a truth that is evident.  It is not evident to the senses that the natural world is a divine artifact. 

I may be moved to marvel at "the starry skies above me" (Kant).  But seeing is not seeing as.  If you see the starry skies as divine handiwork, then this is an interpretation from within a theistic framework.  But the datum seen can just as easily be given a nontheistic interpretation.

At the end of the day you must decide which of these interpretations to accept. You will not find some plain fact that will decide it for you.  There is no fact you can point to, or argument you can give, that definitively rules out theism or rules it in.

If the atheism of some has its origin in pride, stubborness and a willful refusal to recognize any power or authority beyond oneself, or beyond the human, as is plainly the case with many of the cyberpunks over at Internet Infidels and similar sites, it does not follow that the atheism of all has this origin.

It is all-too-human to suspect in our opponents moral depravity when we cannot convince them. The Pauline passage smacks of that all-too-humanity. There are sincere and decent atheists, and they have plenty of excuse for their unbelief. The best of them, if wrong in the end, are excusably wrong.

Paul appears to be doing what ideologues regularly do when pushed to the wall in debate: they resort to ad hominem attacks and psychologizing:  you are willful and stubborn and blinded by pride and lust; or you are a shill for corporate interests; or you are 'homophobic' or 'Islamophobic' or xenophobic; or you are a fear-monger and a hater; or you are a liar or insincere or stupid, etc. 

Objection: "You are ignoring the deleterious noetic consequences of original sin. Because our faculties have been corrupted by it, we fail to find evident what is in itself evident, namely, that the world is a divine artifact.  And it is because of this original sin that unbelief is inexcusable."

This response raises its own difficulties.  First, how can one be morally responsible for a sin that one has not oneself committed but has somehow inherited? Second, if our faculties have been so corrupted by original sin that we can no longer reliably distinguish between the evident and the non-evident, then this corruption will extend to all our cognitive operations including Paul's theological reasoning, which we therefore should not trust either. 

Kant on Abraham and Isaac

What I said about Abraham and Isaac yesterday is so close to Kant's view of the matter that I could be accused of repackaging Kant's ideas without attribution. When I wrote the post, though, I had forgotten the Kant passage. So let me reproduce it now. It is from The Conflict of the Faculties (1798), the last book Kant published before his death in 1804 except for his lectures on anthropology:

Abraham, Isaac, and an Aspect of the Problem of Revelation

God said to Abraham, "Kill me a son"
Abe says, "Man, you must be puttin' me on"
God say, "No." Abe say, "What?"
God say, "You can do what you want Abe, but
The next time you see me comin' you better run"
Abe says, "Where do you want this killin' done?"
God says, "Out on Highway 61."

Bob Dylan, Highway 61 Revisited (1965)

Which is more certain, that I should not kill my innocent son, or that God exists, has commanded me to kill my son, and that I must obey this command? That I must not kill my innocent son is a deliverance of our ordinary moral sense. But wouldn't a command from the supreme moral authority in the universe trump a deliverance of our ordinary moral sense? Presumably it would — but only if the putative divine command were truly a divine command. How would one know that it is?

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Philosophy, Religion, and the Philosophy of Religion: Four Theses

T1. The primary purpose of the philosophy of religion is neither to debunk nor defend religion. Its main aim is neither dismissive in the manner of Dawkins, Dennett, and Co., nor is it apologetic or ancillary in the sense of the Medieval Philosophia ancilla theologiae, "Philosophy is the handmaiden of theology." The central task of the philosophy of religion is to understand religious beliefs, practices, and posits (God, Brahman, etc.) and everything connected with these beliefs, practices, and posits, including arguments for and against religious belief.

T2. People have doxastic security needs just as they have physical, psychological, and economic security needs. A stable system of beliefs gives order, cohesion, and overall purpose to the various activities that make up one's life. It doesn't matter whether one is a Buddhist, a Muslim, a Communist, a disciple of Ayn Rand, or anything else. Belief systems are life-enhancing. This is why people 'bristle' when they think someone is 'attacking' their belief system. Since philosophy is not well understood, many people view philosophical examination of a belief system they hold as an 'attack' upon it, and as an attack upon them. For it is human nature to identify with one's cherished beliefs, and to perceive one's very identity as wrapped up in them.

T3. From the point of view of philosophy, however, it is a mistake to identify oneself with a particular set of beliefs, especially when the particular set is opposed by other particular sets each with its fervent and sometimes bloodthirsty adherents. The philosopher — and I am speaking of an ideal type here, one that Socrates Jones down the hall may have perfectly exemplified only twice in his long career — identifies with the ultimate truth. Thus he is not a dogmatist, neither a dogmatic affirmer nor a dogmatic denier. He is also not a skeptic if a skeptic is one who practices epoche, or doxastic suspension, with respect to every belief that transcends mundane matters. The philosopher is rather a tentative affirmer who is open to ongoing examination of his beliefs and who refuses to identify himself with any system of beliefs short of the ultimate system — which may forever remain an unattained ideal.

In fact, the true philosopher is open to the examination of such metaphilosophical propositions as I have just sketched. Not even these does he hold dogmatically. It follows that he does not identify with being a philosopher in such a way as to preclude the possibility that some day he may abandon the philosophical life by submitting to the crucifixion of the intellect, or by making money and 'enjoying the good life.' (But will he be able to refrain from asking what it is to enjoy the good life?) A truly examined life is a life in which the examination of life is itself examined.

T4. Philosophy is not ideology. As I explain here, an ideology is a system of beliefs, or a collection of ideas, that is primarily oriented toward action and not primarily toward truth. That is how I use 'ideology.' There is nothing pejorative in my use. You are free to use it in some other way, but then you must tell us how you are using it. Philosophy is not ideology since it is primarily oriented toward the knowledge of truth. Religion, however, as a system of beliefs, is a species of ideology since it is primarily oriented toward action. Religion is predicated upon human spiritual neediness, the wretchedness endemic to our condition, and has as its aim our salvation from this indigence and wretchedness. Thus religious beliefs and practices aim at salvific action, salvific transformation from the state of spiritual wretchedness to one of spiritual well-being. Religion is like medicine or the medical arts. The medical arts are predicated upon actual and possible physical debility and aim to cure and prevent physical debility as far as possible. The aim in both cases is in achieving a cure, a transition from sickness to health (whether spiritual or physcal), not in understanding for its own sake.

What holds for philosophy holds for philosophy of religion: it is not primarily about action. So if a philosopher points out the apparent conflict between a Biblical statement and a deliverance of reason or a deliverance of morality, his primary aim is to understand the conflict, the problems it poses, and the various solutions available. His primary aim is not to destroy Bible-based faith or 'apologize' for it. (This word in the sense of 'apologetics' or the 'apology' of Socrates.)

For an adherent of a religion to understand a philosophy-of-religion discussion requires that he be able to calmly contemplate his doxastic commitments as if they were the commitments of someone else. But this is very difficult! Religion, like politics, inflames people's passions. It does so because it is extremely difficult for people to inhibit the natural tendency to identify themselves with the life-guiding and life-enhancing and meaning-bestowing beliefs they happen to hold. (Attack a Muslim's beliefs and he will take you to be attacking his very identity; don't be surprised if he feels himself to be under existential threat.) But he who cannot calmly distance himself from his own beliefs cannot philosophize. One of the virtues of the philosopher — again, I am speaking of an ideal type — is the ability to examine his own most cherished beliefs, and in all consistency I would apply that also to all the beliefs that constitute his Existenz as a philosopher.

The Anatta Doctrine and its Soteriological Relevance

The anatta (Sanskrit: anatman) doctrine lies at the center of Buddhist thought and practice. The Pali and Sanskrit words translate literally as 'no self'; but the doctrine applies not only to persons but to non-persons as well. On the 'no self' theory, nothing possesses selfhood or self-nature or 'own-being,' perhaps not even nibbana 'itself.' If a substance is anything metaphysically capable of independent existence, then perhaps we can interpret the anatta doctrine as a denial of the existence of substances. The 'no self' theory would then imply that in ultimate reality there are no substances: what we ordinarily take to be such are wrongly so taken. A pervasive ignorance (avijja) infects our ordinary view of the world. It is not an ignorance about this or that matter of fact, but one about the ontological structure of the world and of ourselves in it. This structural ignorance could be described as 'original ignorance.' For it lies at the origin of our uneasy and unsatisfactory predicament in this life in roughly the way in which original sin lies at its origin on a Christian scheme of things.

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Dennett on the Deformation of the God Concept

I had an excellent discussion with Mike Valle on a number of topics yesterday afternoon.  The following post exfoliates one of the themes of our discussion.

One of the striking features of Daniel C. Dennett's Breaking the Spell: Religion as a Natural Phenomenon (Viking 2006)  is that Dennett seems bent on having a straw man to attack. This is illustrated by his talk of the "deformation" of the concept of God: "I can think of no other concept that has undergone so dramatic a deformation." (206) He speaks of "the migration of the concept of God in the Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) away from concrete anthropomorphism to ever more abstract and depersonalized concepts." (205)

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Islam and the Euthyphro Problem

Horace Jeffery Hodges  has a couple of informative and well-documented posts, here and here, on the divine will and its limits, if any, in Judaism and Christianity on the one hand, and in Islam, on the other. One way to focus the issue is in terms of the Euthyphro dilemma.

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Does Emergence Help in Defending Religious Belief?

I coined the phrase 'ego surfari' some years ago. To go on ego surfari is to type one's name into a search engine in order to see what turns up. The results are often surprising. Today I found Does Emergence Help in Defending Religious Belief? by Sami Pihlström, Helsinki. Excerpt:

One of the few recent contributions in which the combination of (emergentist or supervenientist) physicalism and theism is seriously challenged is William Vallicella’s (1998). [Vallicella, W.F. 1998 “Could a Classical Theist Be a Physicalist?”, Faith and Philosophy 15, 160-180.] He rejects eliminativism, type-type identity theory, supervenientism, emergentism, and ”the constitution view” (i.e., the view that persons are materially constituted beings) as five ”theologically useless physicalisms” (163ff.). The argument is largely based on Kim’s criticism of nonreductive physicalism. Regarding emergentism (167- 170), Vallicella points out that even if the human soul were seen as an emergent substance or as having emergent properties, problems would remain, as neither divine nor angelic consciousness can be understood as emerging from matter, upon any Christian construal: ”It is analytic that emergence is emergence from a physical base, and in the case of God and angels classically conceived there is no physical base. Moreover, it is analytic that to emerge is to come into being, and God’s consciousness does not come into being” (169). Vallicella (170) also argues against Stump’s (1995) Aquinian suggestion of combining materialism and dualism (and the possibility of survival), insisting that an emergent property cannot continue to exist after the physical system whose property it is falls apart.

If a reconciliation of science and theism were possible through emergentism, this would constitute an intellectual breakthrough of enormous magnitude. No doubts about the cultural or generally human significance of the notion of emergence would remain. Unfortunately, the research program run by theistically inclined naturalists seems to me hopeless; as Vallicella (1998, 176) puts it, physicalism and theism are ”competing Weltanschauungen”. One problem with views seeking to reconcile them, and with the on-going discussion of emergence and theism in Zygon (and elsewhere), is – as in the systematically philosophical emergence literature we find elsewhere – an unargued commitment to strong metaphysical realism. It is presupposed that both scientific and religious language purport to refer to a fundamentally concept- and language-independent world and that, therefore, religion and science must be coherently fitted into one grand theory of the world, if we if we want to retain both. Against this assumption, a more Wittgensteinian-oriented thinker may argue that religion and science are different human practices (or groups of practices) with their characteristic normative structures. Quite different ”moves” are allowed in these different (families of) language-games; for example, the ”soul” allegedly rendered ”scientifically acceptable” in emergentism would hardly have a place in religious language-use.

A Liberal Asks: What are the Bases of Liberal Opposition to Religion?

Harriet E. Baber, professor of philosophy, "unrepentant liberal," and proprietor of The Enlightenment Project writes,

I'm an academic. Most of my friends and colleagues are atheists, have no sympathy for religion of any kind and, in particular, detest Christianity. Being a good liberal I read good liberal sources because I like to read people who agree with me but when it comes to religion they don't agree with me. [. . .] As a Christian, I am exceedingly pissed off about about being characterized as Other, and not only Other but Dangerous Other. What is the problem?

Is it because we hold beliefs you regard as false or flat out stupid? I have some sympathy with that because I don't have any sympathy with stupidity. [. . .]

Is it because you take Christianity to be a moral and, more importantly, political agenda, putting a lid on sexual expression and generally making people miserable?

Which is it? Or is it something completely different? I'm just curious. OK, not just. I want to convert the wor[l]d.

I would certainly not characterize myself as a liberal as this term is popularly understood, but I am deeply sympathetic to religion, though also quite critical of it as readers of this blog know. Like Baber, I am puzzled by the depth of the animus against religion, Christianity in particular, that emanates from the Left.  Why the blind, raging hostility to it?  Why the inability to see anything good in it?  Why the fulminations of people like A. C. "Gasbag" Grayling?  As I see it, the following are some of the main reasons why otherwise intelligent liberals oppose religion.  It is obvious that not every person who self-identifies as 'liberal' is opposed to religion; it is equally obvious that most are.  So when I speak of liberals I mean most contemporary liberals.

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Questions About Religion and Superstition. Superstitious Materialism

1. Is there a difference between religion and superstition, or is religion by its very nature superstitious? There seem to be two main views. One is that of skeptics and naturalists. For them, religion, apart perhaps from its ethical teaching, is superstitious in nature so that there could not be a religion free of superstition. Religion just is a tissue of superstitious beliefs and practices and has been exposed as such by the advance of natural science. The other view is that of those who take religion seriously as having a basis in reality. They do not deny that there are superstitious beliefs, practices, and people. Nor do they deny that religions are often interlarded with superstition. What they deny is that religion is in its essence superstitious.

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Is Religion the Problem? Why Isn’t Belief As Such the Problem? The Special Pleading of Some Atheists

One of the arguments against religion in the contemporary atheist arsenal is the argument that religious beliefs fuel war and terrorism. Rather than pull quotations from such well-known authors as Richard Dawkins and Sam Harris, I will quote a couple of passages from one of the contributors to Philosophers Without Gods, Walter Sinnott-Armstrong. His piece is entitled "Overcoming Christianity." After describing his movement from his evangelical Christian upbringing to a quietistic rejection of Christianity, Sinnott-Armstrong tells us how he became an evangelical atheist:

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