My Slate article on the dangers of faith healing

May 21, 2015 • 10:15 am

I’ve been meaning to write this piece for Slate for a while, but couldn’t get to it because of The Albatross. As it turns out, the piece, about the unconscionable exemptions from prosecution given to religious people when they injure their children by using faith “healing” instead of western medicine, deals with themes in the last chapter of FvF.

This is one of the more palpable dangers of faith, since it’s resulted in the deaths of hundreds (probably thousands) of children—not to mention adults.  And, as I’ve said before, it’s not just these benighted parents who are at fault, for the initial laws mandating religious exemptions were set up by the U.S. government in 1974 (it was a condition for states receiving money for child protection), so this is on us. It’s our responsibility to rescind these murderous laws. As CHILD (Children’s Healthcare is a Legal Duty, a wonderful organization that lobbies against religious exemptions from medical care and vaccination) notes:

In response to Christian Science church lobbying, the federal government began requiring states to enact religious exemptions from child abuse and neglect charges in 1974. CHILD founders Rita and Douglas Swan lobbied for several years against this regulation. The federal government rescinded it in 1983.

In 1996, however, Congress enacted a law stating that the federal Child Abuse Prevention and Treatment Act (CAPTA) did not include “a Federal requirement that a parent or guardian provide a child any medical service or treatment against the religious beliefs of the parent or guardian.” 42 USC 5106i Furthermore, Sen. Dan Coats, R-Indiana, and Congressman Bill Goodling, R-Pennsylvania, claimed during floor discussion that parents have a First Amendment right to withhold medical care from children.

The exemptions also hold for vaccinations: 48 of the 50 U.S. states allow parents to let their children go unvaccinated for religious reasons. That’s a danger not just to the children, but to society at large.

Further, judges and juries tend to let off parents lightly because of respect for “faith” (you don’t get this kind of pass if you withhold medical care for nonreligious reasons), so there too more moderate believers are to blame. In FvF I tell the story of Ashley King, the 12-year-old daughter of Christian Scientists in Phoenix (a middle-class family), who died a horrible death from bone cancer because her parents refused to get her treatment. She died in agony after ineffectual prayers. (Had she been taken to a doctor early on, they estimate a 60% chance she could have been cured.) Ashley’s parents were let off with unsupervised probation.

Severe punishment for killing one’s children through faith healing is needed as a deterrent, because parents who get off lightly often allow subsequent children to die untreated. Remember, too, that “alternative medicine”, like homeopathy, is also a form of faith-healing, although (except for indigenous peoples in Canada), that’s doesn’t confer exemptions on parents who use it on their kids.

The rest of the information is in my new piece on Slate, “Faith healing kills children.” I feel strongly about this issue, as these deaths are totally preventable, so please share the information.

Also, don’t forget that although adults are allowed to refuse medical care because they’re presumed to be able to make “mature” decisions, many of these adults were inculcated in the faith when they were young, and so are forced into faith-healing because of early environmental influences.

I’ve looked only briefly at the comments on the Slate piece, but you might be amused or horrified at some people’s attacks on what is a very reasonable point. Some folks apparently want religious parents to be able to substitute prayer for medical care of their sick children. Their arguments are stunningly inane.

My New Republic piece on faith-healing laws

March 2, 2015 • 2:15 pm

I guess I’ve developed a side hobby of writing about laws that exempt parents from prosecution after they’ve hurt or killed their kids by rejecting scientific medicine in favor of faith healing. But it really angers me, for it’s a tangible case of harm that’s not only caused by religious faith (or faith in woo), but is completely preventible. Without religion, hundreds of kids would not have died, many in horrible agony.

My post from Friday on Christy Perry, a Republican advocate of keeping Idaho’s religion-exemption laws (you can’t be prosecuted for anything in that state if you harm your child by relying solely on faith-healing), has been fully revamped, and is now published in The New Republic as “Faith-healer parents who let their child die should go to jail.

You might go have a look just to give the site some attention. I feel strongly about this issue, and if you’re in Idaho please lobby your state legislator to support the rollback of the exemption laws in a bill that will come up this year.

The 50 Smartest “People of faith”?

August 17, 2014 • 7:44 am

The Best Schools website, which I think is fairly well known for telling people where to study in a given area, has produced a list and description of “The 50 smartest people of faith.” And it’s dire. I’m not sure whether they simply haven’t looked hard enough to find smart religious people (they choose folks who have gone public with their beliefs), or whether those people are simply rare.  We do know that the degree of unbelief rises with education, but education isn’t completely correlated with “intelligence” (which the writers don’t define), and, in the main, most people—even at the upper end of the IQ scale—are probably religious.

The article was written as an explicit refutation of atheism, as we heathens supposedly claim that we’re the only smart ones. The rational for the piece and criteria for selection are these:

A few years back, “New Atheist” authors Richard Dawkins and Daniel Dennett helped to publicize a movement to rechristen atheists as “Brights” (see our feature article on influential atheists here).

This was no doubt mainly because the word “atheist” still has a harsh and aggressive ring in the ears of most ordinary people.

But the corollary—that people of faith are “Dims”—was surely an added benefit, in the minds of the New Atheist publicity men.

Is it really true that most intelligent and well-informed people are atheists, while people of faith tend to be unschooled and credulous?

Far from it.

Unfortunately, in the rancorous debates in this country over the role of religion in our public life, all too often it is simply assumed—by both sides—that religious faith is in conflict with reason (and intelligence). The unspoken assumption is that religion relies exclusively on faith, while science alone is supported by reason.

This idea is utterly mistaken, but because it mostly goes unchallenged, it reinforces the stereotype that atheists are somehow smarter than believers.

One way to combat the erroneous assumption that faith conflicts with reason is by giving greater visibility to living, breathing believers who are also highly intelligent. That is what we are endeavoring to do with this list of “The 50 Smartest People of Faith.”

The qualifications for inclusion on our list are twofold:

(1) Intellectual brilliance, evidenced by a very high level of achievement, whether in the natural sciences, the social sciences, the humanities, literature, the fine arts, or public service; and

(2) Religious faith, evidenced either through explicit personal witness or through publicly professed respect for religion.

By “religious faith,” we mean religion in the monotheistic, or Abrahamic, tradition—which we happen to know best. We do not doubt that a similar list of brilliant and devout Hindus, Buddhists, Daoists, Confucianists, Shintoists, and others could easily be drawn up, and we hope it will be, by those qualified to do so.

Most of the individuals on our list have given explicit public witness to their religious faith. However, in a few cases we infer a faith that appears to be implicit in a person’s writings. Needless to say, we do not pretend to see into people’s hearts. Unbeknownst to us, some individuals may have private reservations. But all have declared their deeply held respect for religious faith through their works and/or their public pronouncements.

This list, then, includes living men and women who are both people of faith and people of exceptional intellectual brilliance and professional accomplishment. It is presented in alphabetical order.

You can look for yourself, but I want to say a few words before I highlight some of the choices. First of all, give me a few hours and I’d produce a list of the “50 smartest nonbelievers” that is far, far more impressive than this. After all, many of the people in the site’s list are theologians, for crying out loud! Among scientists alone I could beat their own list hands down.

Second, is someone who is religious really “smart”? My answer is “yes, of course: they can be intelligent and do really good things, but they do have a flaw in their intelligence: a tendency to believe in superstition and religion nonsense.” But many of us, even smart heathens, have some flaw, mental or otherwise. So most of the scientists, writers, and others in their list do strike me as smart. Nevertheless, I could produce a much more impressive list of smart atheists, and people would have recognized the names as opposed to the many obscure on on the Best Schools list.  Who, for example recognizes Ben Carson (more about him later), as opposed to atheists Stephen Hawking or J. D. Watson?

Moreover, their list of “smart” people includes quite a few theologians—at least ten of the fifty names, not to mention Pope Benedict! Given my biases, I have trouble seeing someone as “smart” who makes their living parsing and explaining the nonexistent.  Yes, these theologians would do well on IQ tests, and would strike you as intelligent if you talked to them without knowing that they did theology, but, really—Alvin Plantinga? Perhaps for such people “savvy” is a better word than “smart”.

At any rate, I’ve singled out a few of these smart believers, and give comments on them below. I’ve divided them into three classes: theologians, scientists and doctors, and “others” (lawyers, writers, etc.). I’ve only mentioned people I’ve heard of.

Scientists and doctors

1. Ben Carson.  A retired neurosurgeon known for pioneering forms of neurosurgery in children, Carson is controversial because he’s a creationist—and a diehard one.  I wouldn’t call him super intelligent in the conventional sense, but rather super competent as a doctor. I simply can’t laud the intelligence of someone who purports to be a scientist but is a vocal creationist.  By the way, the website gets one thing wrong: although the faculty of Emory protested Carson’s invitation as a speaker because of his creationism, they neither urged disinviting him, nor was he disinvited. (The site says he was uninvited and then reinvited. That’s not true.)

2. Simon Conway Morris. A paleontologist at Cambridge, Conway Morris is a smart guy who’s done pioneering work on the Burgess Shale fauna. An Anglican, Conway Morris science has, I think, been compromised by his repeated insistence (and several publications) that the evolution of humanlike beings was inevitable. As far as I can see, that view comes solely from his faith, for if God made humans in the image of Himself, the evolution of creatures capable of apprehending and worshipping God must have been inevitable. Conway Morris’s argument is based on evolutionary convergence (different lineages evolve similar features, meaning that evolution is sometimes constrained in particular directions), but humanlike intelligence is an evolutionary one-off (no other creatures have it, or religion), so his argument simply doesn’t work.

3. David Gelerntner, a computer scientist who is Jewish. I don’t know much about him but he’s respected and, sadly, was injured by one of the Unibomber’s explosives.

4. Martin Nowak, at Harvard, is a Catholic evolutionary biologist who pulled in a huge ($10 million) Templeton grant. He’s undoubtedly done good work in theoretical evolutionary biology, although I must say that I can’t pinpoint a solid contribution he’s made to understanding nature (and, asking several of my friends who are evolutionists, I find that they can’t, either). Nowak was largely responsible for the current and misguided criticisms of kin selection that have so muddled our field; I’ve posted about this many times.

That’s pretty much it for the scientists. Now I could produce a list of much more impressive living scientists who are atheists. Some I can’t name here since they wouldn’t want their unbelief publicized, but among those I could put on MY list of smart atheist scientists are Dick Lewontin (my advisor at Harvard), J. D. Watson (and Francis Crick when he was alive), E. O. Wilson, Steven Weinberg (and just about any physicist), Lisa Randall, Stephen Hawking, Sean Carroll (the physicist), Richard Dawkins, Harry Kroto (Nobel Laureate), Peter Atkins, Patrick Bateson, Jared Diamond, Lee Smolin, Martin Rees (a nonbeliever but friendly to faith), Paul Nurse (Nobel Laureate), David Deutsch, Steve Pinker, and Steve Jones.  Give me a few days and I could produce a longer list, but the one I just gave is about five times as long as the list given above.

Theologians

I wonder why they even put theologians on this list! Sure, they can be smart, but certainly there are equally smart people who actually accomplish something. Theologians spend their lives refining their understanding of a nonexistent being and explicating the work of other theologians who do the same thing. As Dan Barker told me, “Theology is a subject without an object.” If smart people don’t expand our understanding of the universe, or create something that moves us, as a great artist would, or help relieve human suffering, do they belong on this list?

The list does not, as far as I see, include religious scholars, who have much more claim to the potential title of being smart, for many of them don’t believe in the tenets of the religions that they study.

1. William Lane Craig. We all know Craig, who is a Baptist and a skillful debater.  Yes, he’s savvy, but can someone who accepts the Divine Command Theory of Morality, so that God’s Old-Testament genocides are perfectly okay, really be smart? Does someone who spends years explicating the cosmological argument—an argument that most philosophers and all physicists find uncompelling—really belong on this list?

2. David Bentley Hart.  An Orthodox Christian, Hart is a quintessential Sophisticated Theologian™, one who makes the argument that God is a Ground of Being, not an anthropomorphic spirit. He uses a lot of words to say things that, to me, are meaningless, but that give succor to perplexed smart believers. There is no substance to what he says, for there’s no way of checking its veracity. He sees that as an advantage.

3. Alistair McGrath. Educated in molecular biology at Oxford, McGrath now holds a professorship of theology and education at King’s College, London, and engages in apologetics, historical studies of Christianity, and criticism of New Atheism.

4. R. Albert Mohler. President of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in the U.S., and a creationist, Mohler isn’t even as intellectually sophisticated as William Lane Craig, and I don’t know why he’s on this list. They must have been desperate.

5. Alvin C. Plantinga. Plantinga, a philosopher who is a member of the Christian Reformed Church, may have done some good work in philosophy once, but now spends his days engaged in verbose Christian apologetics. His latest hobby-horse is the claim that Christianity must be true because only the Christian God could have given is the means (a sensus divinitatis) to detect truth. Evolution, he claims, gives us no reliable way to form beliefs about what is true. He’s wrong. And he also has sympathies for intelligent design. He’s smart in the way that a good t.v. huckster is smart: he’s able to take advantage of people’s psychological weaknesses to sell his product.

6. John C. Polkinghorne. Once a physicist, now an Anglican priest and theologian, Polkinghorne works on showing that faith and science are in harmony. If you’ve read his stuff, you’ll find it unremarkable: the standard accommodationist pap.

7. Jonathan Sacks. Sacks was Chief Rabbi of the Commonwealth, and is still a rabbi as well as a visiting professor of theology in London. I don’t know much about him except, like all Sophisticated Rabbis, he’s very slippery in debate about saying what he actually believes.

8. Richard Swinburne is an emeritus professor of philosophy at Oxford, has a reputation as perhaps the greatest living philosopher of religion, and has written many works of apologetics as well as adducing philosophical evidence for God. He’s surely smart, but what can you say about a guy who misuses his gifts to prove the nonexistent?

9. Charles M. Taylor, a Catholic, is more a philosopher than a theologian, I think, though he’s spent much of his life attacking scientism and naturalism, and has nabbed the Templeton Prize (a mark of shame). I can’t speak about his other philosophical achievements, but I haven’t been impressed by his criticism of naturalism.

10. Peter van Inwagen is an Episcopalian philosopher of religion at the University of Notre Dame. Much of his work, which I’ve read (and it’s couched in tedious prose!) deals with the Problem of Evil, and how that comports with an omnipotent and loving god. I’ve discussed his theological arguments on this website (see here and here),  His arguments for why God finds it necessary to make animals feel pain, and why God is hidden, are unintentionally hilarious.  Clever, yes; intellectually sound, no.

11. Joseph A. Ratzinger. (Pope Benedict XV). WTF?

Others

1. Phillip E. Johnson, a Presbyterian, has no claim, to my mind, to being on this list. He is, as most of you know, the Father of Intelligent Design (his book Darwin on Trial was instrumental in the ID movement), and the force behind the notorious Wedge Document, a strategy for replacing naturalism as taught in science classes with Christianity and Jesus. Although he was a professor of law at Berkeley, I am aware of no contributions he’s made to jurisprudence. And really, does someone deserve kudos for spreading lies? Here’s how the website characterizes his contributions:

“A well-recognized legal scholar in the field of criminal law, Johnson is best known for his critique of Darwinian naturalism. Johnson’s book Darwin on Trial sparked what has come to be known as the Intelligent Design movement. His debates with prominent atheists who appeal to evolutionary theory to undermine religious faith (e.g., Stephen Jay Gould, Steven Weinberg, and Will Provine) are legendary. A figure of controversy, Johnson deserves much of the credit for the informed critique of neo-Darwinian evolutionary theory that is rapidly growing among American intellectuals (even if many of the contemporary critics of Darwinism, such as Thomas Nagel, reject Johnson’s views on intelligent design).”

2. “Condolleezza” Rice. The site misspells her name, giving her two “l”s instead of one. An evangelical Protestant, Rice has a long record of accomplishment in government and politics, and was provost at Stanford. She’s surely smart, though I’d prefer that she’d used her intelligence in the service of enlightenment and liberalism rather than American conservatism and imperialism.

3. Marilynne Robinson, a Congregationalist, is a superb writer who has crafted at least two great novels (Housekeeping and Gilead, which won a Pulitzer Prize for fiction). I’ve read them both and enjoyed them immensely. But she went off the rails with her religiosity, going after Darwinism and “scientism.” Her book Absence of Mind, a critique of atheism and scientism, was, to my mind, simply a rant.

Newly translated pre-Biblical tablet describes a great flood and a “rescue boat” with wild animals aboard—in pairs!

January 20, 2014 • 7:19 am

We’ve known since at least 1872 that the Great Flood detailed in Genesis is a descendant of earlier flood myths from Mesopotamia.  And there may be some credibility to the presence of at least some serious floods then, based on the fact that Mesopotamia is a giant flood plain and the presence of some archeological evidence for a big flood around 5000 BC. But what we didn’t know until now is that those earlier flood myths also incorporated a boat onto which species of wild animals were sequestered to save them—two by two!  This clearly shows, as if we didn’t know it already, that the Genesis story of Noah and the Ark isn’t true, but was simply an embroidery of earlier flood stories. (It will be interesting to see how Biblical literalists like Ken Ham react to this finding.)

This has all come to light since the recent deciphering of a clay cuneiform tablet first shown to curators at the British Museum in 1985, but not surrendered by its owner for translation until 2009.  Now the remarkable results are detailed in a book by Irving Finkel, Assyriologist and “assistant keeper” of ancient writings at the British Museum. Finkel’s book, The Ark Before Noah: Decoding the Story of the Flood (released in the US on Jan 30, Kindle only;  already available at Amazon UK in hardback, Kindle, and paperback—the last for a tad more than 8 pounds). Finkel’s article (see below) is very well written, so I suspect his book will be a good read.

First, here’s Finkel (he’s Jewish), who bears a remarkable resemblance to both an aged Darwin with more hair, and an even closer resemblance to my friend at UC Davis, Professor Michael Turelli:

irving-finkel-two_2791802b
Irving Finkel (Photo: Benjamin McMahon)

Here’s the “Ark tablet” that Finkel and the British Museum finally got hold of four years ago. It contains 600 cuneiform characters and is dated between 1900 and 1700 BC, which makes it roughly a millennium older than the book of Genesis. According to Finkel, Genesis was assembled between 597 and 538 BC during the Jewish exodus in Babylonia:

ark-tablet_2791738c
The Ark Tablet, which dates from around 1900BC (Benjamin McMahon)

The remarkable story on this cellphone-sized table is detailed in two pieces in yesterday’s Telegraph: an interview with Finkel by science writer Tom Chivers: “Irving Finkel: reader of the lost Ark“, and a piece written by Finkel himself,”Noah’s Ark: The facts behind the flood.” There’s also a very positive review of Finkel’s book by James McConnachie in yesterday’s Sunday Times, but it’s not online (thanks to pyers for scanning it for me). The two Telegraph pieces are must-reads for visitors to this site.

Here’s a quick overview of what’s old and new; quotes from the articles are in italics:

  • We’ve known since 1872, from another cuneiform tablet that came to the British Museum, that there were Mesopotamian flood myths that long antedated the one in Genesis. Other tablets surfaced, and their contents are famously detailed in Tablets XI and XII of the Epic of Gilgamesh, written beginning about 2000 BC.
  • A bit about cuneiform writing: it’s apparently very complicated, with symbols that can stand for either words, syllables, grammatical phrases—and in more than one language.  Finkel has handled so many of these tablets that he’s learned to recognize individual scribes:

Finkel has been doing this for so long, and “met” so many of the same scribes over and over again, that he gets a sense of them as people. The Babylonian schools were filled with the same mix of troublemakers, bored kids and swots as modern ones, he says, which you can tell from the recovered tablets from children learning to read and write. And when you read a really learned, intelligent, experienced scribe, “you can really see a brain there, a brain that’s clever and can see meaning. They were very sharp.”

I ask him if he has any favourites, if any of the writers become almost friends. “You get cleverness and intellect, but what you don’t get, usually, is personal stuff,” he says. “You don’t get private writing, you don’t get spontaneous love poetry. So one is filled with admiration for these minds, and sometimes you wish you could bloody well talk to this guy so he could explain what he means, but not a feeling that you’d like to go for a pint with him or something.”

Occasionally, though, he finds that a scribe has missed a line in a long, copied document, and they’ve tried to squeeze it in in the margin, with an asterisk to mark the spot: “The device is familiar, that’s like us. And it’s that sense of the guy going ‘oh s—’ – that’s the moment you think you might like to buy this guy a pint and calm him down.”

  • The boat described as the earlier Ark was a huge coracle: a shallow round boat made from coiled ropes of palm fiber. Finkel describes it as being 230 feet in diameter (Chivers’s piece says 70 feet, but he must mean meters, since 70 meters is almost exactly 230 feet). The length of palm rope required for such a large boat would, says Finkel, stretch from London to Edinburgh. The new “Ark tablet” is quite detailed about the coracle’s construction:

Before the arrival of the Ark Tablet, hard facts for the boatbuilder were sparse. We have had to wait until now for the statistics of shape, size and dimensions, as well as everything to do with the matter of waterproofing. The information that has now become available could be turned into a printed set of specifications sufficient for any would-be ark-builder today.

Enki tells Atra-hasıs in a very practical way how to get his boat started; he is to draw out a plan of the round boat on the ground. The simplest way to do this would have been with a peg and a long string. The stage is thus set for building the world’s largest coracle, with a base area of 38,750sq ft, and a diameter of, near enough, 230ft. It works out to be the size of a Babylonian “field”, what we would call an acre. The walls, at about 20ft, would effectively inhibit an upright male giraffe from looking over at us.

Atra-hasıs’s coracle was to be made of rope, coiled into a gigantic basket. This rope was made of palm fibre, and vast quantities of it were going to be needed. Coiling the rope and weaving between the rows eventually produces a giant round floppy basket, which is then stiffened with a set of J-shaped wooden ribs. Stanchions, mentioned in lines 15-16, were a crucial element in the Ark’s construction and an innovation in response to Atra-hasıs’s special requirements, for they allow the introduction of an upper deck.

These stanchions could be placed in diverse arrangements; set flat on the interlocked square ends of the ribs, they would facilitate subdivision of the lower floor space into suitable areas for bulky or fatally incompatible animals. One striking peculiarity of Atra-hasıs’s reports is that he doesn’t mention either the deck or the roof explicitly, but within the specifications both deck and roof are implicit. (In line 45 Atra-hasıs goes up to the roof to pray.)

Here is a coracle, in a photo from the 1920s:

coracle-building_2791742c

  • Finkel also notes that the tablet describes the boat as caulked with bitumen. Bitumen, of course, is a petroleum-like product, which is the fossilized and transformed remains of ancient microscopic creatures like diatoms. The Genesis Ark, too, was caulked with petroleum-like material, something that’s overlooked by Biblical literalists. If the earth is only 6000-10,000 years old, where did that caulk come from?
  • But the cool stuff is the two-by-two animals on the coracle. There couldn’t have been many species in a coracle that small, so we need a new science: Mesopotamian Baraminology! Finkel’s finding of the animal story is spellbinding:

At first sight, the very broken lines 51–52 of the Ark Tablet looked unpromising. The surface, if not completely lost, is badly abraded in this part of the tablet. I needed, then, to bring every sophisticated technique of decipherment into play: polishing the magnifying glass, holding it steady, repeatedly moving the tablet under the light to get the slightest shadow of a worn-out wedge or two. Eventually the sign traces in line 51 could be seen to be “and the wild animal[s of the st]ep[pe]”.

What gave me the biggest shock in 44 years of grappling with cuneiform tablets was, however, what came next. My best shot at the first two signs beginning line 52 came up with “sa” and “na”, both incompletely preserved. On looking unhopefully for words beginning “sana” in the Chicago Assyrian Dictionary, I found the following entry and nearly fell off my chair as a result of the words: “sana (or sanâ) adv. Two each, two by two.”

This is a very rare word among all our texts – when the dictionary was published there had only been two occurrences. To me, it is the world’s most beautiful dictionary definition.

For the first time we learn that the Babylonian animals, like those of Noah, went in two by two, a completely unsuspected Babylonian tradition that draws us ever closer to the familiar narrative of the Bible. (Another interesting matter: the Babylonian flood story in cuneiform is 1,000 years older than the Book of Genesis in Hebrew, but reading the two accounts together demonstrates their close, literary relationship. No firm explanation of how this might have really come about has previously been offered, but study of the circumstances in which the Judaeans exiled to Babylon by Nebuchadnezzar II found themselves answers many crucial questions.)

There is a further consideration raised by these two lines in the Ark Tablet: they only mention wild animals. I imagine domestic livestock might well be taken for granted, especially if some of the animals were going to be part of their own food chain.

Well, of course there’s no way they could have fit the world’s 7-million-plus species (in pairs) on either the Genesis ark or a 230-foot-diameter coracle, so of course literalists have to explain where the later species came from. The usual answer is “evolution” from a limited set of “kinds,” but this disguises the fact that evolution was admitted to occur! So what were taken on the Ark were a set “kinds” that split into all the species we know today.  The fruitless study of what the kinds really comprised is the subject of “baraminology,” which I mentioned above. It’s the world’s most useless (and, to a scientist, funniest) area of scholarly “research.”

The upshot is, of course, that the Ark story is fiction, which won’t surprise any of us. But when I debated those creationists in Arizona a while back, they all held firmly to the literalism of the Ark Story, and even had an answer to my question about “where did the pitch come from?” (answer: “We’re not sure that the word is accurately translated from the Hebrew”).

I haven’t done any Googling, but I suspect that Biblical literalists already have an answer to the striking similarity of the Genesis flood account to the Epic of Gilgamesh. Readers who know how they comport these should weigh in below.  But now the literalists have extra work to do: explaining why the Bible, which is the word of God, gives a description of animals boarding the ark two by two (or seven by seven for the “clean” animals), yet that very word of God describes similar (but not identical) things written in cuneiform a thousand years before God spoke. If you’re a fundie, you can say either that the cuneiform story was God’s first word, or that it was wrong in its details, and the Ark story is right. You’re screwed either way.

The solution, of course, is to recognize both documents as myths that probably embroidered real-life but smaller floods occurring thousands of years ago in Mesopotamia.

At any rate, have a look at Finkel’s book. Here’s the cover:

Finkel book

h/t: Matthew Cobb, pyers

Eben Alexander’s bogus trip to heaven

January 6, 2014 • 5:42 am

You must be living on another planet if you haven’t heard of neurosurgeon Eben Alexander’s 2012 book, Proof of Heaven: A Neurosurgeon’s Journey Into the Afterlife, which recounts his goddy experience while in a coma after a bout of bacterial meningitis.  It’s sold over two million copies, has been translated into dozens of languages, and has topped the New York Times bestseller list for over a year (here’s today’s listing):

Screen shot 2014-01-06 at 2.21.13 AM

This post will, I hope, show that Alexander’s book doesn’t belong in the “nonfiction” category.

Why is the book so popular? The answer is obvious: it gives people confidence that there really is a heaven. For during Alexander’s “coma,” he claims he visited that heaven: a place of angels, lost relatives, beautiful music, butterflies, and eternal happiness. And he is a neurosurgeon who argued that his “near death experience” (NDE) could not have been a dream or hallucination since his coma made his cortex nonfunctional; that is, his brain wasn’t working. His credentials thus give the book special cachet.

Perhaps this is old news, but Alexander’s claims have not only been seriously questioned in the past year (how, for example, does he know that his NDE didn’t occur during the period when his brain was rebooting while he was waking up?), but an article in the August Esquire by Luke Dittrich,”The Prophet,” suggests that Alexander has been duplicitous about his story, and in fact made much of it up.

The article is long (10,000 words) but is well worth reading as an example of investigative journalism at its best: it manages to shred Alexander’s story not in a vindictive way, but by simply quoting the facts. Here are some of those facts:

  • Alexander was let go from at least two of his jobs as a neurosurgeon after repeated malpractice lawsuits. For example, Dittrich notes that “In August 2003, UMass Memorial suspended Alexander’s surgical privileges ‘on the basis or allegation of improper performance of surgery.'”
  • In two of those lawsuits, Alexander appears to have altered or falsified medical records to cover his incompetence. He settled those suits, and still retains his medical license, but no longer practices as a doctor.
  • Alexander appears to have made up the story that begins the book: how he managed to avoid a collision while parachute-jumping by some mechanism that was too quick to have been activated by his brain. This was, in effect, his first NDE: his first “proof of heaven.” As Alexander notes:

“This book is about the events that changed my mind on the matter. They convinced me that, as marvelous a mechanism as the brain is, it was not my brain that saved my life that day at all. What sprang into action the second Chuck’s chute started to open was another, much deeper part of me. A part that could move so fast because it was not stuck in time at all, the way the brain and body are.”

Dittrich could find no record of this happening, and the only “Chuck” in Alexander’s parachute club denies that this happened. In response, Alexander says he changed “Chuck’s” name for legal reasons, though there are no legal reasons to change the name.

  • Alexander appears to have falsified even the weather that occurred at the time of his coma.  Dittrich notes:

“As he [Alexander] nears the end of his tale, every part of his story seems to be connected to every other part in mysterious ways. For instance, his coma began on Monday, November 10, and by Saturday, ‘it had been raining for five days straight, ever since the afternoon of my entrance into the ICU.’ Then, on Sunday, after six days of torrents, just before he woke up, the rain stopped:

To the east, the sun was shooting its rays through a chink in the cloud cover, lighting up the lovely ancient mountains to the west and the layer of cloud above as well, giving the gray clouds a golden tinge.

Then, looking toward the distant peaks, opposite to where the mid-November sun was starting its ascent, there it was.

A perfect rainbow.”

But a meteorologist consulted by Dittrich asserts vehemently that there was no rain on the 10th or 11th of November, and there could have been no rainbow on the 16th, the day Alexander “woke up.”

  • The coma that Alexander experienced was not caused by bacterial meningitis, but, according to Alexander’s doctors (whom he unwisely gave permission to talk!), was medically induced. That undermines his key claim that his brain was not working during his coma. Alexander does not mention this in his book. Here is a passage from Dittrich’s article:

“In Proof of Heaven, Alexander writes that he spent seven days in ‘a coma caused by a rare case of E. coli bacterial meningitis.’ There is no indication in the book that it was Laura Potter, and not bacterial meningitis, that induced his coma, or that the physicians in the ICU maintained his coma in the days that followed through the use of anesthetics. Alexander also writes that during his week in the ICU he was present ‘in body alone,’ that the bacterial assault had left him with an ‘all-but-destroyed brain.’ He notes that by conventional scientific understanding, ‘if you don’t have a working brain, you can’t be conscious,’ and a key point of his argument for the reality of the realms he claims to have visited is that his memories could not have been hallucinations, since he didn’t possess a brain capable of creating even a hallucinatory conscious experience.

I ask Potter whether the manic, agitated state that Alexander exhibited whenever they weaned him off his anesthetics during his first days of coma would meet her definition of conscious.

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘Conscious but delirious.'”

  • Finally, Alexander appears to have made up an important part in his tale, one in which he calls upon God for help before he goes under. As Dittrich reports:

“One of the book’s most dramatic scenes takes place just before she sends him from the ER to the ICU:

In the final moments before leaving the emergency room, and after two straight hours of guttural animal wails and groaning, I became quiet. Then, out of nowhere, I shouted three words. They were crystal clear, and heard by all the doctors and nurses present, as well as by Holley, who stood a few paces away, just on the other side of the curtain.

‘God, help me!’

Everyone rushed over to the stretcher. By the time they got to me, I was completely unresponsive.

Potter [Alexander’s physician] has no recollection of this incident, or of that shouted plea. What she does remember is that she had intubated Alexander more than an hour prior to his departure from the emergency room, snaking a plastic tube down his throat, through his vocal cords, and into his trachea. Could she imagine her intubated patient being able to speak at all, let alone in a crystal-clear way?

‘No,’ she says.”

In sum, the story looks like a sham, confected by a once-brilliant but now failed neurosurgeon who reclaims his time in the spotlight by pretending that he saw heaven. He may indeed have had such visions, but the story around them—about his parachute episode, the weather, his call to God, and the fact that his brain wasn’t working—are crucial to his story, and they don’t stand up to Dittrich’s examination.

When Dittrich confronted Alexander with what he found, and why the neurosurgeon omitted his professional mistakes and vagaries, Alexander waffles and then begs the journalist for mercy:

We talk about rainstorms and intubations and chemically induced comas, and I can see it in his face, the moment he knows for sure that the story I’ve been working on is not the one he wanted me to tell.

“What I’m worried about,” he says, “is that you’re going to be so busy trying to smash out these little tiny fires that you’re going to miss the big point of the book.”

I ask whether an account of his professional struggles should have been included in a book that rests its authority on his professional credentials.

He says no, because medical boards in various states investigated the malpractice allegations and concluded he could retain his license. And besides, that’s all in the past. “The fact of the matter,” he says of the suits, “is they don’t matter at all to me…. You cannot imagine how minuscule they appear in comparison to what I saw, where I went, and the message that I bring back.”

. . . By focusing on the inconsistencies in his story, on recollections that don’t seem to add up, on a court-documented history of revising facts, on the distinctions between natural and medically induced comas, he says, is to miss the forest for the trees. That’s all misleading stuff, irrelevant to his journey and story.

Toward the end, there’s a note of pleading in his voice.

“I just think that you’re doing a grave disservice to your readers to lead them down a pathway of thinking that any of that is, is relevant. And I just, I really ask, as a friend, don’t…”

That’s pathetic. For one thing, never assume that a journalist is your “friend.” Their job is to tell a story, not to be your pal.

Now Dittrich’s piece was published last August, but I think it’s been behind a paywall until recently, and, even so, it’s important to highlight the inconsistencies of Alexander’s story, for people have been buying this book in droves as “proof of heaven.” (You can see other criticisms of Alexander’s tale on his Wikipedia page.) It is no such thing, for the “proof of heaven” depends critically not only on Alexander’s probity, which is not high, and especially on his contention that his brain was “shut down” when he had his NDE, for which there’s no proof at all.

But of course none of that matters.  If the public were thinking critically and scientifically about his story, and were aware of its problems, the book would be just another fairy tale. But so eager are people to get confirmation of God and heaven that they’ll believe anything, no matter how dubious.  Alexander may no longer be practicing as a doctor, but he’s raking it in on the lecture circuit, and his book has made him a millionaire.

Oh, and did I mention that it’s being made into a major motion picture? Do you suppose the producers might halt production given all the questions about Alexander’s story? Not a chance.

Tania Lombrozo part 2: It can be rational to have faith

September 24, 2013 • 6:15 am

Tania Lombrozo, a Templeton-funded associate professor of psychology at the University of California, Berkeley, has been writing on the cosmos & culture science website for National Public Radio. Yesterday I discussed what I saw as her gratuitous call for “respectful dialogue” between believers and nonbelievers, which seemed to me an effort to buttress religion’s undeserved privilege in public discourse. Soon thereafter—about a week ago—Lombrozo followed up with another post, “Can faith ever be rational?” Her answer, of course, is “yes.”

To those of us who think of “rational” as “something based on reason and logic,” and “faith” (I use Walter Kaufmann’s definition) as “intense, usually confident, belief that is not based on evidence sufficient to command assent from every reasonable person,” this seems strange. How can it be rational to have a confident belief in something without supporting evidence?

Well, it all depends on a semantic trick: redefining “faith” and “rationality” in a way that makes them compatible. Sounds like Steve Gould’s NOMA gambit, doesn’t it?

Lombrozo reached her faith-friendly conclusion after reading some philosophy. As she notes:

To help me think about these weighty matters, I decided to read two recent papers (one already published, with a more accessible version forthcoming) by Berkeley philosophy professor Lara Buchak.

I’ve read both (free at Lombrozo’s links), but will take Buchak’s quotes from the one cited at the bottom of this post. Here’s Buchak’s definition of “faith”

By ‘faith statements’ I simply mean statements involving the term ‘faith’. The following are representative

I have faith in your abilities.
He has faith that his spouse won’t cheat on him.
I have faith in you.
He has faith that you won’t reveal his secret.
She acted on faith.
She has faith that her car will start.
It was an act of faith.
I have faith that God exists.
I have faith in God’s goodness
.
I have faith in God.

Note that this conflates the notion of faith as “evidence-based confidence” with the “belief in the absence of much evidence” definition of Kaufmann.  Buchak then says that “faith” involves taking an action initially motivated by some empirically-supported belief—but not a belief held with 100% certainty.  Faith means taking such an action without looking for further evidence that could provide more certainty.

Then Buchak distinguishes between two types of rationality: “epistemic” rationality, which involves “[proportioning] one’s beliefs to one’s evidence.” and “practical” rationality, which involves “selecting the means to achieve one’s ends.” (I’m simplifying things a bit here, but not in a way that seems to distort her argument.)

Given that, then of course it can be practically rational to have faith. If you have a certain end beyond just a stronger knowledge of the truth (say, more money, a better relationship, etc.), then you can act based on what you know—provided, of course, that you are initially acting based on a fairly strong degree of evidence. It would be rational, then, to act without getting more evidence if  “available evidence is such that no potential piece of evidence [yet unfound] would tell conclusively enough against it.” (I’m still quoting Buchak here.)

Buchak uses an example of a marriage in which one partner is contemplating adultery.  He would do so if he found out his spouse was cheating, but there is no evidence to suggest that; the evidence is that she is faithful. It would be rational, then, to not continue to look for evidence for the wife’s adultery, because by so doing you could just make the relationship worse—something that isn’t in your interest.  In other words, in this situation, says Buchak, it’s rational to have faith in your wife’s fidelity. There are costs of further investigation, including the time lost when you could have achieved your end.

So faith can be rational.  But this isn’t something new, for of course scientists act the same way so long as you use “faith” in the scientific sense of “confidence based on evidence.” We never have 100% certainty, but when we take actions based on evidence, like launching a Mars rover, we have enough confidence in our results that we consider it rational to launch the rocket. We could keep testing the systems over and over again, but one reaches a point of diminishing returns.

Too, we could always look for more evidence for the hexagonal nature of benzene, as we’re not 100% certain it has that shape; but one reaches a point where it’s “rational” to act as if we know the shape with sufficient confidence to achieve our chemical ends. Further investigation will never give us 100% certainty in the scientific sense.

So if you define “faith” as “confidence based on evidence”, which is its vernacular meaning in science, then yes, it can be rational for even scientists to have faith.

But that’s not what Lombrozo’s piece is about, of course. In the end it’s about whether it can be rational to have faith in God. One would think that this wouldn’t wash, because to believe in God in the first place you require fairly strong evidence (that’s part of Buchak’s definition of “faith”), and there simply isn’t that kind of evidence.  Buchak says otherwise:

[William] James argued that when a decision about what to believe is momentous—in that it involves a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, for example—then it must be made by the will, and that postponing the decision is a decision in itself. He used this observation to argue that it is rationally permissible to choose to believe in God even when one does not have conclusive evidence for God’s existence. I don’t think that it is rationally permissible to believe that God exists when one does not have conclusive evidence, if this means setting one’s credences differently from what one has evidence for (though I’m not saying that this is what James is suggesting). However, I do think that it is sometimes rationally permissible (and indeed, sometimes rationally required!) to have faith in God—as evidenced by doing some particular religious act without looking for further evidence—in circumstances in which postponing the decision to act is costly, provided one has the appropriate credences, and provided these are the correct credences to have given one’s evidence.

This is where Buchak’s argument goes wonky. How can one have faith in God without believing in God? That implies that you take an action normally predicated on fairly strong evidence—”appropriate credences” is the euphemism here—that God exists, without having such evidence. That contravene’s Buchak’s notion of faith, which initially requires pretty strong evidence.  Second, postponing belief in God is not costly unless you think you’re going to die and are desperately making a Pascal’s Wager.  Maybe I’m missing something in Buchak’s argument, but it doesn’t sound to me, based on her own definition of faith, that it is “sometimes permissible (and rationally required!)” to have faith in God. Indeed, the argument above contradicts Buchak’s own claim at the end of her paper:

We have seen that whether faith that X, expressed by A, is rational depends on two important factors: (1) whether one has a high enough (rational) credence in X, and (2) the character of the available evidence. Specifically, faith in X is rational only if the available evidence is such that no potential piece of evidence would tell conclusively enough against X. . . So, in a rough-and-ready way, we might say that faith that X (expressed by some particular act A) is practically rational to the extent that the individual’s degree of belief in X is already based on a large body of evidence.

. . . Individuals who lack faith because they insist on gathering all of the available evidence before making a decision stand to miss out on opportunities that could greatly benefit them.

It would be rationally permissible to believe in God, then, only if you have enough evidence for a deity that no further evidence (rationally considered) would change your actions predicated on that belief.  And that’s not the way religion works. One doesn’t require strong empirical evidence to believe, nor does one contemplate what evidence would erase your faith.

I find myself criticizing Buchak more than Lombrozo here, but Lombrozo’s piece is largely a regurgitation in popular language of what Buchak says, and Lombrozo’s piece will certainly have far wider circulation than Buchak’s two articles that were published in anthologies of religious philosophy.

But Lombrozo certainly assents to Buchak’s conclusions. She first gives a nod to atheists (without apparently realizing that their arguments are absolutely decisive in this case) and then reproduces some correspondence she got from Buchak (in italics) that seems to give religious people permission to claim that their faith is rational:

Of course, it doesn’t follow from these arguments that religious faith – in general – is rational. Skeptics could argue that the condition of having strong evidence to begin with simply won’t obtain when it comes to having faith in God, and New Atheists might argue that actions based on faith can themselves be costly to oneself and to others, challenging the idea that they’ll ever yield greater expected utility.

Nonetheless, Buchak’s paper suggests that under some conditions, faith can be rational, and sets the stage for a more sophisticated conversation about faith for theists and atheists alike. In our own conversation, Buchak shared the following reflections:

“The way that religious faith is sometimes talked about in the larger cultural conversation can be harmful to everyone who is trying to find out the truth in religious matters and how they should live their lives. There’s a naïve idea that faith requires believing against the evidence, or in the absence of evidence. When this idea is adopted by atheists, it can allow them to dismiss all religious faith as irrational by definition, without considering what the evidence is for particular religious claims. When this idea is adopted by religious people, it can allow them to think that believing against the evidence is a virtue, which is harmful to the pursuit of truth – it can also be psychologically harmful to try to believe something you think you don’t have evidence for.”

Sounds like an excellent basis for establishing more charitable ground!

Oy vey!  This is a “more sophisticated conversation”? At the outset Lombrozo notes that there’s a case to be made that there isn’t strong evidence for God, but then quotes Buchak as saying that maybe there is some good evidence for particular religious claims (“everyone . .  trying to find out the truth in religious matters”). But what makes either Buchak or Lombrozo think that there is such truth to be found? Buchak’s assertion that atheists don’t consider “what the evidence is for particular religious claims” is flatly wrong. We all know that the claims of different faiths are contradictory, so at most only one can be right. But none of them have credible truth claims. If Buchak and Lombrozo imply that if it’s rational to believe in Jesus, then it must be irrational to believe in Allah.

Atheists have good reasons for not believing in God, and those come down to the lack of evidence. This means that can never be rational to have religious faith, by either Lombrozo or Buchak’s lights. There’s simply not the required preliminary evidence that’s an integral part of “rational faith”.  Nor need we atheists admit that faith can be rational, no matter which definition of “faith” you use.

Yet look at Lombrozo’s last sentence. It claims that Buchak’s argument provides “an excellent basis for establishing more charitable ground,” i.e., creating a respectful and fruitful dialogue between faith and religion.  That’s simply not the case. Although Lombrozo is a cultural Jewish atheist, she seems unaware of why most people are atheists. If she understood that, she’d know that Buchak’s paper doesn’t establish any common ground.

As I noted yesterday, the claims of belief and atheism are irreconcilable, and a dialogue between them will accomplish nothing. That doesn’t mean we need to vilify believers themselves—as opposed to their beliefs. But it does mean that we needn’t consider faith as either credible or rational.

___________________

Buchak, L  2013. Can it be rational to have faith? In Louis P. Pojman & Michael Rea (eds.), Philosophy of Religion: An Anthology, 7th edition (forthcoming)

Now I’m a “radical evolutionary atheist”

July 6, 2013 • 8:38 am

The religious and conservative media are parroting the Discovery Institute in the case of Eric Hedin, the Ball State University professor who taught intelligent design and proselytized for Christianity in a science class.  Even the Wall Street Journal (WSJ) simply reproduced a press release from the Discovery Institute about the 7,000 signatures they collected supporting Hedin’s “academic freedom.”

One reader thought the WSJ article was a news piece, but didn’t notice this small disclaimer at the bottom:

Picture 1What the hell?

Anyway, the Christian News Network, which has now shown itself to be The Anti-Evolution Christian News Network, continues to report on and defend Hedin and intelligent design.  In their own post on the Hedin petition, they simply recycle reporting from the Muncie Star-Times, the Discovery Institute, and the Ball State student news paper. (Don’t journalists do their own investigation any more?)

There’s not much new there, but I do love the new way that they characterize me:

Discovery Institute’s David Klinghoffer agrees with West, saying that the committee formation was directly influenced by Jerry Coyne, a radical evolutionary atheist who called Hedin “the nutty professor,” and first alerted the Freedom from Religion Foundation about his questionable teaching.

As far as I know, Klinghoffer never called me a “radical evolutionary atheist,” so I suspect this is the Christian paper’s own characterization. I’m not quite sure what a “radical evolutionary atheist is” (is it an atheist who evolves?), but it definitely an attempt to dismiss me (and Hedin’s other opponents) with a slur.

I will thus characterize Klinghoffer, the Christian News Network, and the Discovery Institute as “radical creationist superstitionists.”

h/t: Diane