“Superstar”

November 13, 2017 • 7:15 am

This song was written in 1969 by Leon Russell and Bonnie Bramlett, and first recorded by Delaney & Bonnie. But the definitive version was by Karen Carpenter, and so I’ll show this as a second tribute to Leon Russell, who died exactly a year ago after a heart attack.  When Bette Midler performed this on the Tonight Show, Richard Carpenter heard it, arranged it, and the rest was history. Released in 1971, this song went to #2 on the American charts, and, despite the existence of covers by others (e.g., Sonic Youth, Cher), this is by far the best version.

After listening to a bit of the Carpenters recently, I decided that Karen had the best voice of any woman pop singer of our time (Barbra Streisand was second). Within one or two words after she begins singing, you instantly recognize the voice as hers. There is no voice that sounds anything like it; no voice more beautiful.

This is a live version from the Carpenters’ BBC concert (1971), which, like many BBC music shows, was great (you can see the whole thing here).

A fun fact about this song:

A line in the second verse was considered too lyrically risqué at the time, and was changed by Richard Carpenter to better fit the duo’s image. The Carpenters’ version of the lyric, “And I can hardly wait to be with you again” is “And I can hardly wait to sleep with you again” in the original version.

And from Wikipedia:

The Carpenters’s treatment of the song underscored the deep loneliness and sense of loss intended in the lyric, and established the song as a standard for years to come. Karen’s vocal was praised for its intensity and emotional nature. When asked in a 1972 interview how she could communicate the heart of the song while lacking the personal experience it depicted, Karen replied, “I’ve seen enough groupies hanging around to sense their loneliness, even though they usually don’t show it. I can’t really understand them, but I just tried to feel empathy and I guess that’s what came across in the song.” In truth, Karen struggled with loneliness herself, and the personal implications of the song made it one of the three she found most emotionally difficult to sing, the other two being the previous “Rainy Days and Mondays” and the subsequent “I Need to Be in Love.”

My rescue fantasy is that I could have saved her.

Monday: Hili dialogue (and Leon monologue)

November 13, 2017 • 6:30 am

Good morning, and yes, it’s Monday again, the 13th of November, and the week I go to Puebla, Mexico for a meeting. It’s National Indian Pudding Day, celebrating one of the finest unknown desserts of America, whose best commercial version is at the restaurant Durgin-Park in Boston, where it’s served warm with a big scoop of vanilla ice cream. Made with molasses and cornmeal, it’s earthy, grainy, and utterly delicious (a good recipe is here). In the U.S. it’s Sadie Hawkins Day, a day when women are supposed to ask out men.

On this day in 1940, Walt Disney’s animated movie Fantasia was first shown, at the Broadway Theater in New York. On November 13, 1956, the U.S. Supreme Court ended the Montgomery Bus Boycott by ruling that Alabama’s laws requiring segregation on buses were illegal.  That was, of course, begun by Rosa Parks, who, on December 1 of 1955, refused to give up her seat to a white man.  Here’s Parks’s mug shot after her arrest (she was convicted and fined $10 plus court costs, but of course appealed):

On this day in 1982, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial was dedicated in Washington D.C. I remember the big controversy about its design, but it’s proved to be a deeply moving and immensely popular site.  Finally, just two years ago on this day, Paris experienced a set of coordinated terrorist attacks that killed 130 people (as well as 7 attackers), and wounded 7 others. Eighty-nine of the dead were killed in the Bataclan theatre. ISIS claimed responsibility for all of it.

Notables born on this day include Robert Louis Stevenson (1850), Louis Brandeis (1856), population geneticist Motoo Kimura (1924), Whoopi Goldberg (1955; real name Caryn Elaine Johnson) and Jimmy Kimmel (1967, former partner of Sarah Silverman).  Those who fell asleep on this day include Prince Henry the Navigator (1460), Camille Pissarro (1903), Karen Silkwood (1974), Motoo Kimura (1994; yes, he died on his 70th birthday), and Leon Russell (last year; I’ll have a tribute here, and also in the next post).

This is my favorite Leon Russell song, and here he performs it live:

 

I couldn’t find any cat paintings by Pissarro, but his granddaughter, Orovida Camille Pissarro, painted many cats that you can see here.

Meanwhile in Dobrzyn, the discourse between Hili, Andrzej, and Cyrus is getting ever more obscure. I asked Malgorzata what this one meant, only to get the reply, “I’m not sure what this means and no help from Andrzej or Hili was forthcoming.”

Hili: Have you considered the heart of the matter?
Cyrus: Not today.
In Polish:
Hili: Czy zastanawiałeś się nad istotą rzeczy?
Cyrus: Dzisiaj nie.

Leon and his staff went hiking this weekend, and are looking forward to getting their wooden house moved up from Southern Poland next spring:

Leon: We should absolutely go in the opposite direction.

From Matthew, the worst food idea ever (save for pizza with anchovies):

He also sent this, showing regional variation of the “kill two birds with one stone” phrase. Note the use of “flies” in central Europe and Scandinavia

From reader Charleen; if you’ve had a cat, you’ll recognize this:

https://twitter.com/Elverojaguar/status/929650803190706176

Finally, this is a tweet from Heather Hastie herself, responding to the idiotic passage of new pro-gun laws in Michigan:

The Dems are back?: a SNL skit

November 12, 2017 • 3:45 pm

This skit, from yesterday’s Saturday Night Live, shows a moribund and distressing batch of Democrats, and there are some funny bits (I particularly like Larry David’s take on Bernie Sanders).

The cast: Nancy Pelosi (Kate McKinnon), Dianne Feinstein (Cecily Strong), Chuck Schumer (Alex Moffat), Bernie Sanders (Larry David) and more revel in the Democrats’ victories.

What evolutionists talk about: an email conversation between Matthew and me

November 12, 2017 • 2:30 pm

First Matthew sent me this tweet showing a thieving moggie and his haul of socks and underwear (check out the original tweet to enlarge the photos).

https://twitter.com/EmrgencyKittens/status/929434815182471168

This email exchange ensued:

Jerry:  What a diligent cat!

Matthew: Why do they do it?

Jerry: You’re asking me to enter a cat’s brain?

Matthew:  What better place to be? Apart from the fact you have to lick your butt.

Jerry: LOL! They LIKE to do that!

Matthew: How do you KNOW?  They HAVE to do it, but do they LIKE it?

Jerry:  As you surely know, Dr. Cobb, evolution makes us like what we have to do. Orgasms are the prime example; maternal behavior another. I am making an informed guess here.

Matthew: Hmm. I think a more parsimonious explanation is that they don’t like the smell so they have to lick their butts. They may not not like it, but like the outcome.

Jerry: I’m putting our conversation in a post. Now.

Matthew: Fine. I’m right!

Is he?

Reza Aslan’s new book, in which he becomes a pantheist

November 12, 2017 • 1:30 pm

Reza Aslan’s new book, God: A Human History, came out five days ago. Click on the screenshot to go to the Amazon page:

Curiously, despite Aslan’s recent television series, Believer, the book doesn’t seem to be garnering a lot of attention—or praise. (But perhaps that’s because his series was dreadful and got canceled.) The book got no stars from Kirkus, but did garner this statement:

The author seems anxious to shock readers with his argument that God is in everything. “I am,” he writes dramatically, “in my essential reality, God made manifest. We all are.” Aslan’s conclusion is not necessarily revolutionary, though to many believers, it may seem surprising. As a history, the book is a brief yet interesting, mostly engaging work, though it does not touch on the idea of God as manifested in Asian cultures. Though the two books have differing scopes and purposes, Karen Armstrong’s 1993 classic, A History of God, is a better choice.

Well, maybe a “better choice” in the sense that you’d prefer to eat cat rather than dog feces, but the review does mention what seems to be the theme of this book: pantheism. God is everywhere, including ourselves, and isn’t the anthropomorphic being in the sky, one with feelings and orders, touted by the Abrahamic faiths—including Aslan’s faith of Islam. Publisher’s Weekly also withholds a star and also mentions his lack of discussion of Asian religion:

Aslan is adept at translating serious academic theory into lay-reader friendly prose, but he also shares his own perspective as a person of faith and advocates for a renewed pantheism—though he says it can be called by many names. In making his case for pantheism, he barely mentions the voices of Hindu traditions, lesser known pantheistic philosophies, or specific indigenous traditions that have long held beliefs similar to those he advocates. Despite these issues, any general reader interested in religion will find much to learn about how the idea of God or gods has evolved and changed according to geographical, economic, political, and social contexts.

I can’t find any reviews on the other two big vetting sites, Library Journal and Booklist (maybe I’ve missed them). The advance praise for the book comes only from Philip Jenkins and, predictably, Bart Ehrman, and we hear from nobody else on either Amazon or the publisher’s website. And even the New York Times didn’t review it, though reviews usually precede or are coincident with a book’s release.

The Spectator did discuss it, however, in a semi-snarky review by Alexander Waugh which, though it doesn’t explicitly say Aslan is a slick huckster, clearly implies it.  Waugh begins by going into the ways Aslan has distorted his credentials and training (we needn’t reprise these here). He then throws Aslan a bone before chewing on the meat of his thesis, which appears to repudiate much of Islam (and Christianity):

Aslan writes in clear, concise and attractive English. He is intelligent and has an uncommon ability both to marshal and contextualise seemingly random facts, and is skilful at condensing complex ideas into short, effortless paragraphs. But despite his claims to high scholarship, he is at heart a popular historian. Even his end-notes are fun.

The surface message of his book is simple. He repudiates the ‘humanisation of God’, by which he means man’s historical desire to portray him in his own image —to give him a face, eyes, hair, hands, feet, a tongue, lips, even a womb (Job 38:29) and bowels (Jeremiah 31:20). . . .

. . . Aslan has no time for any of this, but considers it an aberration borne of human arrogance that began when man started putting fences round animals. Prehistoric man, he argues, worshipped animals as spirits; but farming subjugated the beasts and so man made God in his own image. Islam, according to Aslan, is innocent of all this. References in the Quran to God’s eyes, hands, face and shin are to be read metaphorically. Isn’t this also true of the Bible?

Waugh spices up his meal with some gratuitous snark, which of course affords me a little Schadenfreude:

As Aslan’s commentary passes from French and Spanish cave drawings to the temples of Göbekli Tepe, and from ancient Egyptian animists to the monotheistic Yahwists, it becomes increasingly obvious to the reader that his impatience is growing; that the scholarly impartiality he vaunted so famously in his interview on Fox TV is starting to disintegrate and that he is now bursting out of his chrysalis. He is an ambitious man who enjoys the limelight. He has already played many parts — Christian, Muslim, businessman, sociologist, lecturer, editor, presenter, producer, public intellectual, scholar, historian, creative writing tutor and performing clown. Now it looks as though he wants to become a guru.

. . . If Aslan is hoping to found a new religion based upon this ancient wisdom and his own charismatic personality he may succeed. He is after all articulate, handsome and a keen self-publicist, who already appears to have a following of sorts. If he plays his cards right he could be wearing togas and flying around in a private jet in five years’ time.

It’s a staple of atheist writing that man made God rather than the other way round, but now Aslan seems to adhere to that too:

I don’t think it would be spoiling the story (it’s not that kind of book) if I revealed Aslan’s conclusion: ‘God,’ he writes three pages from the end, ‘did not make us in his image; nor did we simply make God in ours. Rather we are the image of God in the world — not in form or likeness, but in essence.’ This he describes as a personal ‘epiphany’, arrived at through his ‘long, and admittedly circuitous, spiritual journey’. Only now does he reveal to his readers that the history contained in the first 166 pages of his book is a ‘mirror’ of his own ‘faith-journey’. His title, God: A Human History, might just as well have been God: A History of Me. ‘The entire reason we have a cognitive impulse to think of God as a divine reflection of ourselves,’ he writes, ‘is because we are, every one of us, God.’

And so this extraordinary book, which started as an informative history of an idea, transforms itself into a self-help manual and an autobiographical consecration, delivered as a sermon from the pulpit of the author’s personal epiphany. ‘God,’ he writes, ‘is not the creator of everything that exists. God is everything that exists’ — an idea which leads him inexorably to his final remarks: ‘So then, make your choice. Believe in God or not. Either way, take a lesson from Adam and Eve and eat the forbidden fruit. Do not fear God. You are God.’

Aslan’s theology, as well he knows, is not original. It is called pantheism — an ancient belief that God exists through his creation — that the creator and that which he has created are indivisible.

Waugh continues with a potted history of pantheism, and then winds up wondering about something that’s struck me as well. In repudiating the tradition of Islam, in which the Qur’an sees Allah as a real being with real feelings, and in espousing a form of pantheism for which, after all all religions can be equally right, Aslan is turning himself into an apostate: a Maajid Nawaz of America. Dare he go to the Grand Mosque of Mecca and proclaim that the Qur’an espouses a man-made God? I don’t think so, for his head would soon be lonely for his body. But I think Muslims see Aslan as a useful idiot, conciliatory rather than “strident”, and so will leave him alone—as long as he stays away from Iran or Saudi Arabia.

If you want to see him discuss his book on MSNBC (oy, my kishkas!), click on the screenshot and then go to the video. You can see one reason why he’s taking this line: he argues that dehumanizing God not only gives us a “deeper spirituality,” but defuses some of the conflicts between people, preventing us from “dehumanizing” each other. That’s pure Karen Armstrong: “we’re all the same and we’re all love and yay! good stuff.”  He’s trying to reconfigure religion in a way that he thinks will make him even more beloved, and, as Waugh notes, a guru in a toga. I don’t for a minute think he believes what he says.

If candy corn were made human, it would be Reza Aslan

But if every one of us, including yours truly, is God, why did Aslan block me on Twitter? He’s blocking God.

h/t: Charleen

The University of Chicago sells the naming rights of its Economics Department for $125 million

November 12, 2017 • 10:15 am

It’s bad enough that the White Sox baseball stadium, once Comiskey Park, then U.S. Cellular Field, is now called “Guaranteed Rate Field” after a mortgage company paid big bucks to rename it. Yes, baseball franchises are greedy, and few major league ballparks don’t bear the names of companies, but really—Guaranteed Rate Field? It sticks in the craw.

But now my own school, The University of Chicago, has renamed an entire department—our renowned Department of Economics—after being given a $125 million donation. This was announced on Leiter Reports (Brian Leiter is a professor at the University of Chicago Law School), and was confirmed in an announcement by the University.

Now it’s true that the $125 million given to the U of C by the The Kenneth C. Griffin Charitable Fund wasn’t just to change the name: most of the dosh, it seems, will go to fund scholarships and research in economics. But you’d better believe that the department isn’t being renamed just out of gratitude for the money. Somebody made a deal to do this:

 In recognition of this gift, the Economics Department will be renamed the Kenneth C. Griffin Department of Economics.

On his website, Leiter asks “whether anyone can think of a similar case where an academic department–not a business school, or a law school, or a medical school–sold naming rights to the department?” Several people give examples, so we’re not unique. Still, we’re the University of Chicago, a school I’m proud to be associated with, and I don’t at all like department names to be sold off like so much chattel. Can you imagine what would happen if this continues? Will my own department be renamed The Monsanto Department of Ecology and Evolution? And can you imagine the Preparation H Department of Organismal Biology and Anatomy?

 

h/t: Greg

A philosopher criticizes Faith Versus Fact for not addressing Sophisticated Theology

November 12, 2017 • 9:15 am

King’s College, formerly “The College of Christ the King”, is a Catholic school in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania with about 2300 students. On November 4, the school hosted the annual Eastern Pennsylvania Philosophical Association Conference, a one-day affair in which papers were given on all aspects of philosophy. (The keynote speaker was Massimo Pigliucci, who spoke about stoicism.)

Only one paper is listed in the College’s announcement of the meeting:

The conference also featured research presentations. [Gregory] Bassham was the first of nine presenters to speak at the conference. In the Walsh room of the Campus Center, he argued for the compatibility of science and religion in a refute [sic] towards philosopher and author Jerry Coyne.

“Coyne claims that science and religion have irreconcilable differences. However, Coyne relies on dubious definitions of naturalism and faith. Many religious believers agree with naturalism in science, but not in other areas of life. These believers typically do not regard faith as belief without evidence, contrary to Coyne’s sense of faith,” said Bassham.

Bassham is a professor of philosophy at King’s College with a diverse set of publications.

Well, my identification as “philosopher and author” isn’t quite accurate, but it would surely make Massimo bridle, as he claims I have no philosophy cred at all. (Actually, I do: I coauthored a peer-reviewed paper, as well as a five-page response to a misguided critic, with philosopher Maarten Boudry in a genuine philosophy journal, Philosophical Psychology. If you want a copy of “Disbelief in belief: On the cognitive status of supernatural beliefs,” give me a shout.)

Reader Michael actually found Bassham’s paper presented at the conference, which you might be able to download free from academia.edu (otherwise, I have one); it’s apparently an unpublished manuscript called “Coyne’s case for the incompatibility of science and religion.”  It’s a double-spaced 18-page critique of my book Faith Versus Fact, and, while making some fair points, completely fails to refute my main point. That point is this: religion and science are both engaged in discerning and asserting truths about the cosmos (statements about “what is“), but religion lacks the methodology to adjudicate or convince the bulk of rational people of its truth claims. (I recognize in the book that of course religion is about more than just making statements about God, his nature, and the factual assertions underlying faith. But few faiths do not make truth claims, and without those claims, religious dicta about behavior and morality have no underpinning.)

The difference between science and religion is shown by the palpable fact that scientific research converges on truths (provisional truth, of course), and that adjudicating those truths is independent of the researcher’s nationality, religious belief, or ideology. In contrast, religion, whose “investigative tools” are limited to faith, dogma, and authority, has no way to decide which claims are “true.” That’s why we have thousands of religions on this planet, many making conflicting and incompatible claims. If religion made reliable truth claims, there would be only one religion.

Bassham is apparently a believer, and I say this based on his defense of religiously based truth claims, which of course turn out to be Christian ones. I won’t address what I see as his more minor criticisms, but concentrate on the main thesis I described above. I do note, however, that Bassham agrees with me that doing science does erode religious belief (why is that?, I wonder), and that religions do indeed make truth claims. He just thinks that there are “other ways of knowing” beyond science that can confirm these claims. He also admits that Biblical literalism is out: that Sophisticated Theologians™ don’t accept much of what the Bible says, so my critique of “unsophisticated” religion practiced by creationists, most Americans, and Muslims bears no weight. (Bassham, however, doesn’t say which parts of the Bible are literally true, since he appears to accept the divinity of Christ, the Resurrection, and so on.) I’ll present only three of Bassham’s criticisms of my book, but they’re ones central to my thesis.

1.) Yes, religion does give empirical evidence for the supernatural.  This is what Bassham says, first attacking philosophical naturalism, the idea that naturalism is all there is. 

Two things should be said here. First, Coyne’s defense of philosophical naturalism is skimpy and unconvincing. The three factors he cites—scientists’ ingrained skepticism, the success of methodological naturalism in science, and the failure to find empirical evidence of the supernatural—are insufficient to support philosophical naturalism without a further premise: the failure of apologetics to provide rational grounds for religious belief. Coyne is scornful of apologetics, claiming that it is a farrago of obfuscation, fallacious reasoning, and wishful thinking. But this is something that must be shown, not gestured at with a few derisive pot-shots. For this is a critical point in dispute in the science-religion debate: Are there, as most contemporary theologians would claim, good reasons for adopting methodological naturalism in science, while rejecting philosophical naturalism as a general worldview?

In fact, I don’t just “gesture” at the fallacies of apologetics; I go into them in detail, addressing things like theodicy, explanations for why we don’t see God these days, the concept of Original Sin, and so on. In fact, philosophical naturalism is the proper underpinning of methodological naturalism (the view that nature and the laws of physics are all there is), because we simply have no evidence for anything acting beyond naturalism. As Sean Carroll emphasizes repeatedly, the models of physics are sufficient to explain all observed phenomena, and give no support to the supernatural. The success of naturalism and the failure of supernaturalism to help us make sense of the Universe is a very good reason to adopt philosophical naturalism.

But let’s leave that aside, for the most bizarre aspect of Bassham’s defense of religious epistemology is his arguments for why we know that religious truth claims are valid (my emphasis below):

Second, most theologians and informed religious believers today would reject Coyne’s claim that that there is no empirical evidence for the supernatural. Though some would dispute it, I agree with Coyne that science has failed to find credible evidence of such allegedly supernatural phenomena as ESP, reincarnation, miracles, psychic channeling, near-death experiences of a heavenly afterlife, or the healing powers of prayer. But this is a far cry from saying that there is no empirical evidence for God or some higher power or transcendent realm. Few contemporary theologians would claim that belief in God is a non-rational or even contra-rational leap of blind faith. They point to phenomena such as the order and beauty of the world, the consciousness of objective moral obligations, the natural desire for eternal happiness, the “fine-tuned” nature of physical constants, testimony of miraculous events, fulfilled prophecies, the credibility of Christ’s claim to be divine, the literary beauty and spiritual power of the Bible, and various kinds of religious experience as providing an evidential grounding for acts of religious faith. Coyne offers brief rebuttals to some of these evidentiary arguments, but a great deal more would need to be said to support his claim that there are irreconcilable conflicts of philosophy between science and religion.

Can anybody not already marinated in faith accept this as “evidence” for God? Order and beauty of the world, such as it is, has more parsimonious explanations, at least for order.  Those include the laws of physics and natural selection. As for “beauty”, well, that’s in the eye of the beholder, and if you think that the Atacama Desert is evidence for God, I can’t help you. (E. O. Wilson has explanations for why we find some things beautiful—”biophilia”—but that’s just a hypothesis. And of course we find some things scary and repulsive as well, like snakes and spiders, and we have good non-supernatural reasons for that!)

As for as the “consciousness of objective moral obligations,” there is no evidence that consciousness requires God, since we are now making progress in understanding it through fully materialistic means. Further, there are both social and evolutionary explanations for “moral obligations,” as I’ve said before, and I deny that any moral obligations are “objective.” Are Muslims who kill apostates, gays, and adulterers, or who favor that behavior, showing “objective moral obligations”?

“The desire for eternal happiness” is, of course, wishful thinking, and is surely not evidence for God.

As for the “fine tuning” of physical constants, we don’t know why they are as they are, but again, why fill our ignorance by saying that this is evidence for God, much less the Christian God? And, as others have pointed out, the nature of the Universe, as well as some of the physical constants, are not consonant with the idea of a God—at least the kind of god that even Sophisticated Theologians™ accept.

Miracles? None have baffled scientists to the point that we have to take the supernatural seriously. If God cures people, why does He never restore missing limbs or eyes? Every “miracle cure” is of a disease known to be curable by modern medicine (often applied, as in the case of one of Mother Theresa’s saint-confirmatory “miracles”), or subject to spontaneous remission. And “fulfilled prophecies”—which ones are Bassham talking about? I am aware of no Biblical prophecies that were fulfilled in real life, and many that weren’t, like Jesus’s promise that he’d return in the lifetime of his contemporaries.

And as for “the literary beauty and spiritual power of the Bible,” how, exactly, is that evidence for God? Does the beauty and power of Crime and Punishment, or The Dead, also give us evidence for God? How much of the Bible’s “beauty” was put in by the translators of the King James version? And is this kind of evidence characteristic of SOPHISTICATED Theology™? If it is, it’s not very sophisticated, but simply a combination of credulity and confirmation bias.

2.) Coyne doesn’t define “faith” right: it’s far more than “belief in the absence of convincing evidence.” Here Bassham trots out the Clydesdales of Sophisticated Theology™ (my emphasis):

Second, Coyne’s argument relies upon a conception of faith that few contemporary theologians would accept. In defining faith as “belief without—or in the face of—evidence,” Coyne commits a strawman fallacy that Richard Dawkins and many other vocal critics of religion have also perpetrated.  There are many widely accepted conceptions of faith that do not view it as evidence-free belief. Among these are the Catholic “propositional” view of faith as assent to revealed truths on the authority of God the revealer; the Calvinist conception of faith as firm belief in key tenets of the Christian faith as a result of the internal instigation of the Holy Spirit; the modern Protestant “voluntarist” view of faith as interpretive trust in the self-revealing actions of God within human history; and the modern “Existentialist” conception of faith as an attitude of commitment, acceptance, and “total interpretation” made by the whole person. None of these common views of faith see it as an evidence-free form of cognition.

Seriously, dude? These count as evidence?  Do you really want to claim that “assent to revealed truths on the authority of God the revealer” has the same epistemic status as experiments showing that the human immunodeficiency virus is the cause of AIDS? That the “internal instigation of the Holy Spirit” is as dispositive for God as fossils are for evolution?

All of these forms of evidence come down to authority, dogma, and revelation: the bases of “faith”. This paragraph, and the one above, clearly display the intellectual weakness of “evidence” used by even Sophisticated Theologians™—the kind of evidence relied on by people like Alvin Plantinga. So even if Bassham accepts my contention, as he does, that most people’s religious beliefs are incompatible with science, he fails to make a case that the evidential standards of Sophisticated Theology™ make it far more compatible with science—i.e., powerfully able to discern truths about what exists.

3.) The use of different methods by religion and science doesn’t make them incompatible.  Bassham:

Third, while it is true that religion and science generally use different methods, it is far from clear that this makes them incompatible. If it did then one would have to say, implausibly, that science is incompatible with historiography, political science, legal theory, philosophy, and literary theory, for all of these disciplines make claims about empirical reality that are frequently “incorrect, untestable, or conflicting.” There are many “ways of knowing” that cannot, and do not, employ the rigorous methods of science. This makes them different from science but not necessarily incompatible with it. Historiography, like religion, relies heavily upon appeals to authority. Philosophy, like theology, relies strongly on appeals to intuition, reasoning, and critically defended interpretations. Yet it would be odd and implausible to claim that either historiography or philosophy was “incompatible” with science.

This sounds good but the center doesn’t hold. In fact, insofar as any of these disciplines attempts to discern objective truths about the cosmos, if they do so without using “science broadly construed”—the empirical toolkit involving examining nature, making and testing hypothesis, holding doubts, demanding independent confirmation, and so on—then they, too are incompatible with science. As I say in my book, philosophy and math do give us “knowledge” in working out the consequences of a set of assumptions, but they don’t tell us what is true about the Universe. Appeals to authority and intuition, reasoning, and critical defense are not substitutes for “science broadly construed”, and if these methods claim to discern objective truths about our Universe, then yes, they too are incompatible with science as a way of finding out what’s true. 

To me (and of course I’m biased) Bassham’s arguments are weak, and certainly don’t show that Sophisticated Theology™ is perfectly compatible with science. If that theology is so watered down that it makes no empirical claims at all, then yes, it can be compatible with science in one sense, but much Sophisticated Theology™ still makes truth claims—about the divinity of Jesus, the Resurrection, the dictation of the Qur’an to Muhammad and so on—that aren’t adjudicated scientifically.  As many of us know, Sophisticated Theology™ is often gussied up bits of Biblical literalism (“no, there was no Adam and Eve, but of course there was a divine Jesus”), or a word salad so confused (deliberately, so, I think) that you can’t figure out what it’s saying. What, for instance is the Ground of Being? Is it a testable claim about God? If so, then it’s in conflict with science. If not, then it’s just mental wheel-spinning and we have no call to accept it.

It’s characteristic of Bassett that he pulls the Courtier’s Reply Fallacy at the end of his article:

To summarize and to conclude: Coyne claims that there are “intractable incompatibilities” between science and religion. He defends this claim by offering a few preliminary indicators of conflict (in the Preface and Chapter 1), and then offers more developed arguments in Chapter 2. His central claim is that there are deep and irreconcilable conflicts between religion and science with respect to methods, outcomes, and philosophy. As we have seen, while some of his arguments are effective against certain popular forms of religions, such as Biblical literalism, they have very little force against more sophisticated modern forms of religion or theology. In particular, Christians today who are science-friendly, reject Biblical literalism, and refuse to view Scripture or the Creeds as “competing” with science in the task of describing physical reality have nothing to fear from Coyne’s overstated and theologically uninformed arguments.

“Nothing to fear from me”—that’s what believers love to hear, and of course that’s Bassham’s preordained conclusion. But if you want to see how strong his arguments are, simply reread his paragraph on the kind of “evidence” that religious people—and presumably Bassham himself—accept as showing that there’s not just God, but the Christian God.

And of course it was accepting science, and evolution, that weaned many religious people away from their faith. Why do you suppose that happened?