Uncle Eric once again goes after scientism and New Atheism, touting “other ways of knowing.” II. Those other ways of knowing

June 7, 2013 • 6:20 am

Eric MacDonald, author of the Choice in Dying site, recently wrote two posts, How several misunderstandings led Megan Hodder to faith,” and “On not replacing one system of doctines [sic] with another”. As I pointed out in the first part of my critique, these pieces espoused three themes: the failures of New Atheism, especially its inability to replace what religion gives people; the dangers of scientism, which Eric apparently sees as a pervasive and destructive attitude; and the fact that there are Ways of Knowing other than science.  Yesterday I analyzed—and disagreed with—Eric’s claim that New Atheism is an abject failure because it a). criticizes simplistic caricatures of religion rather than serious theological thought, and b). tears down religion without replacing the essential human needs that religion meets. This morning I’ll address “other ways of knowing.”

Since yesterday Eric has posted “An explanatory note” arguing that I misunderstood him. He doesn’t see New Atheism as a failure, he says, and says this about “ways of knowing”:

I do not speak in terms of “ways of knowing.” That, I think, is the wrong way to frame this issue. There are different methodologies, but these do not constitute ways of knowing.

Well, I’m not going to get into a back-and-forth with Eric on that; I urge you to read his original two posts and his “explanatory note” and see if the second comports with the first. I stand by my critique, and add that yes, Eric does appear to see other realms of human endeavor as “ways of knowing”.  Here’s one excerpt that explicitly uses and accepts the idea of “claims to know”, and also singles out some areas that, says Eric, yield genuine knowledge that doesn’t come from science (my bolding below):

. . the assumption that lies behind the premises of scientism is that knowledge is accessible apart from all other aspects of human life, all other dimensions of human knowledge. Of course, I know that by putting it in this way that someone is going to say something like the following. There is only one “way” of knowing, and that is by means of the provision of empirical evidence, and anything that uses empirical evidence is scientific; therefore, science is the only “way” of knowing. If this is true, then all the arguments and knowledge claims included within the body of, say, Catholic theology, cannot constitute knowledge. It is merely a kind of elaborate hand waving, and may be simply dismissed as “woo” or “Sophisticated Theology™”, both terms implying empty verbiage. The problem here is complex. In the first place, the claim that science is the only way of knowing is not itself a proposition of science.

For the scientistic position also fails to account for other things we may justly claim to know. For example, Mozart was a greater composer than Hummel, even though some of Hummel’s compositions are quite charming. We cannot demonstrate this scientifically, but we can know it with a fair degree of assurance. History is also a field of knowledge in which scientific verification is largely irrelevant. Indeed, knowing, in Ranke’s sense, wie es eigentlich gewesen ist, that is, how things actually were (in the past), has only an indirect relationship with empirically verifiable states of affairs. The significance of a document for the understanding of past events is not something that can be determined empirically, even though the document itself, and its authenticity, may in part be determined by the use of scientific methods.

And perhaps more important for all of us is the question about the best way to live, and whether there are principles of morality (governing our relationships with others) or ethics (governing our own self-understanding and the construction of our “best” selves), that can be in any sense known.

There are other areas in which, Eric says, knowledge exists without having been derived from science:

I think we can have true beliefs which are not verifiable by the methods of science, and yet can be as objective as our scientific beliefs. I have already suggested over the last year or so a number of such beliefs, and no one has yet shown me both why they may not be taken to provide true beliefs, and how they can be shown to be so by the methods of science. I have mentioned aesthetic judgements, moral judgements, law, history and other disciplines within the Geisteswissenschaften, which are reasonably thought to encompass truths of their own outside the realm of science. I think the epistemological gap that people are ignoring is the one that lies between science and other fields of knowledge, all of which require evidence, but not all of which can be based upon the scientific method of theory construction and their verification by means of empirical testing and confirmation.

So here is a list of areas where Eric thinks “knowledge” or “truth” can be obtained without using “empirical testing and confirmation”:

  • Aesthetic judgments
  • Moral judgments
  • Law
  • History

I believe he’s also mentioned archaeology in other posts.  Let me first construe “science” broadly and confect a definition of science, for today’s discussion, that incorporates both my and Eric’s criteria. Science is a method rather than a body of results or a coterie of Ph.D.s who practice as card-carrying scientists.  That method involves “evidence”, as Eric says, but also the verification of that evidence “by empirical testing and confirmation”.  Evidence that cannot be tested and confirmed by others is not reliable evidence: it falls into the purview of things like religious revelations, which many theologians do see as “evidence.”  Construing science broadly, one can consider things like auto mechanics, plumbing, and so on, continuous with academic “science” in the sense that hypotheses about what is wrong with your car or your pipes derive from principles of mechanics, hydraulics, and so on. And when your mechanic or plumber tries to fix a problem, he does it by making hypotheses (“is it the wiring or the fuse?”) that can be tested and even confirmed by others.

In this sense, history and archaeology are also “ways of knowing” that use the methods of science.  We can, in principle, test hypotheses like “Julius Caesar was assassinated” or “there were humans in North America 10,000 years ago” using empirical observation and confirmation.  Those are, indeed, ways of knowing that overlap with science. Archaeologists and historians often act as scientists when trying to determine truth about the past. Indeed, that is the only way they can be credible.

I don’t see, however, that aesthetic or moral judgments (which feed into laws) are in this class of “knowledge” or “truth”.  If one accepts a certain set of criteria for what is “beautiful” and “moral”, then one can see whether a given judgment or decision meets those criteria.  But you have to set up the criteria in the first place, and those criteria are subjective.  There will always be people who think that Beethoven is better than Mozart, and how can you convince them otherwise? There are no objective criteria for such a decision.  And, as someone pointed out, there may be many who see Tuva throat-singing as better than Mozart, for that is their preference, conditioned by their culture and upbringing.

It is similar with morality.  Are there really “objective” moral truths, as Sam Harris seems to feel, or are there only dicta that conform to a subjective set of criteria about what is good? “Killing is wrong”, for instance, is not something I see as a “moral truth”, because in some circumstances it may be good for society (i.e., killing a terrorist about to kill others).  (Note: I am a moral consequentialist.) Even things that seem more obvious, like “don’t harm innocent children” are not accepted as truths by some people, like those odious members of the Taliban who think it’s okay—indeed, good for society—to throw acid on schoolgirls who seek an education. The point is that while many of us can agree on such things, there is no universal and objective standard to appeal to, in cases involving morality and aesthetics, where everyone can agree. (If, however, you think morality consists of actions that are “good for society,” then one can in principle test moral judgments empirically. But not everyone accepts that kind of consequentialism.) There is a subjectivity in morality that does not, for instance, apply when we’re trying to find out the molecular structure of water.

What about other things touted as “ways of knowing,” like philosophy, mathematics, or literature?  I think philosophy and mathematics are “ways of understanding”, and come close to science in that one can demonstrate truths within an accepted system of logic.  The Pythagorean Theorem, for example, is something that falls out of geometry and algebra, and is not immediately obvious from simple assumptions.  That’s a way of understanding, and indeed perhaps even a way of knowing, but it’s not a way of knowing about the external world.  There is no world in which the Pythagorean Theorem (under Euclidean geometry) could not be true.  It is an observation about what follows from assumptions about a logical system, not something that can be verified by observing nature. Ditto for the Euthyphro argument, one of the great contributions of philosophy. If you accept certain logical propositions, then you can show that morality cannot come from a God.  Again, as Sean Carroll has pointed out, these are not “scientific truths” in the sense that there is no world in which they could not be true.

Literature, I think, doesn’t tell us any external truths about the world unless it portrays things that can be checked by other means, in which case it’s a quasi-science.  James Woods told me that Tolstoy’s The Death of Ivan Ilych was once used in medical schools to teach students what it is like to die.  Well, its value in that respect must come from doctors and others observing that the process of Ilych’s dying corresponds to reality—to what other people go through. If it didn’t it, would be useless as a teaching tool. Absent things like that, art and literature are ways of communicating feelings between people and stimulating the emotions. They may also stimulate thought, but they aren’t ways of knowing anything about our universe—at least nothing that can be verified by objective, independent observers.

What I argue, then, is that anything that is claimed to exist in our universe can be verified only with the methods of science, broadly construed. I don’t see that Eric has convincingly demonstrated that there are real and objective moral and aesthetic judgments that can be demonstrated by “evidence.”  How can you test your claim that Mozart is better than Hummel by checking it against the real world? All you can find out is that many people think that Mozart is better than Hummel. But others may dissent, and who can prove them wrong? How can you prove someone wrong who says that it’s immoral to abort babies after the first trimester?

Finally, although this isn’t Eric’s aim, much of the “other ways of knowing” palaver is used to advance the “truth claims” of religion. But I hardly need to add that I don’t think religion is a way of knowing anything about the real world. That’s simply a truism, for our understanding of any divinities, transcendent beings, or “moral truths” derived from faith alone has not advanced one iota since the ancient Greeks. Hell, after millennia of apologetics and “proofs” of God, we don’t even know whether there is a god, much less one god or many, or what said gods are like or want us to do.

Who izzit?

June 6, 2013 • 1:05 pm

It’s been a long day,

Long day

so let’s finish with a non-rewarded contest.  Who is the man in the photo below? No reverse Google imaging!

Mystery man

And don’t forget that the “cat beard” contest, whose prize is an autographed book with a cat beard drawn in it, ends at 5 pm CST on June 10.  We have only a handful of entries, so your chance of winning if you take a good picture are substantial.

NYT readers respond to Tanya Luhrman’s op-ed on belief

June 6, 2013 • 10:54 am

A few days ago I posted about Tanya Luhrmann’s New York Times op-ed, “Belief Is the Least Part of Faith,” in which she claimed that belief, or the content of belief, wasn’t really important for evangelical religious people. Instead, what was important was the feelings of joy and communion people got from worship. Her thesis is encapsulated in one paragraph of her essay:

And that was not really what I saw after my years spending time in evangelical churches. I saw that people went to church to experience joy and to learn how to have more of it. These days I find that it is more helpful to think about faith as the questions people choose to focus on, rather than the propositions observers think they must hold.

I contested this essay on several grounds, primarily that the epistemic content of religion is critically important for many religious people. If they knew that Jesus didn’t exist, or was just a garden-variety apocalyptic prophet who wasn’t divine, how many people would be evangelicals? And if belief in propositions isn’t important, why do so many religions fracture on the grounds of doctrine, and do things like campaign against the teaching of evolution.

(I note in passing that, as reader Jeff D pointed out, Luhrmann got a Templeton Foundation grant for this work. As her Stanford c.v. notes: “2007: John Templeton Foundation grant, “Spiritual Disciplines and their Sensory Consequences.” This, I think went to help finance the work reported in Lurhmann’s book, When God Talks Back; and her work is Touted on Templeton’s website. She’s one of the prize horses in their stable.)

At any rate, yesterday the Times published four letters from readers about Luhrmann’s essay. I reproduce them all here (with my comments) because they’re interesting.

To the Editor:

Re “Belief Is the Least Part of Faith” (column, May 30):

T. M. Luhrmann got it right. As a Protestant pastor, I have come to believe that what we assert about God is of no real importance to that “being.” What ultimately matters is how we live and what we do with our lives.

Being in a religious community can be an enriching experience as well as a vehicle for service to those who are in need.

Spinoza said we should love God but not expect God to love us in return. We love God by caring for those less fortunate. That’s what matters.

(Rev.)

FRANK L. HOSS
Urbana, Ill., May 30, 2013

Well, maybe that’s what matters to Reverend Hoss, but how dare he say what matters to everyone else? Can’t he see is that his view is a personal one, and many religious people dissent from his claims that a. we shouldn’t expect God to love us, and b. Truth claims about God are irrelevant.

To the Editor:

Instead of accusing secularists of failing to understand the most elementary insight in the study of religion (Durkheim’s point that religion works as an adhesive for social solidarities), T. M. Luhrmann would do well to focus on why so many people affiliate with certain religiously defined groups and not others.

The growth of evangelical churches surely has something to do with the particular ideas that those churches proclaim and often protect from critical scrutiny.

DAVID A. HOLLINGER
Berkeley, Calif., May 30, 2013

The writer teaches religious history at the University of California, Berkeley, and is the author of “After Cloven Tongues of Fire: Protestant Liberalism in Modern American History.”

Here Hollinger has it right on the money. Remember that churches fracture on grounds like the existence of the Trinity, whether women should be preachers, how many wives are permitted, and whether the true descendants of the Prophet are his relatives or his companions.  Very often these rest on epistemic claims, and on the moral claims that derive from them.

To the Editor:

One way of looking at religion is that it is a tool. Tools enhance our reach and make it easier for us to do tasks effectively.

Religion allays our existential anxiety and gives us hope. Even if some view it as illusory hope, it does soothe our distress in situations that would otherwise be hard for us to accept. It provides a sense of meaning and purpose, and a sense of belonging to a social group.

Just as mechanical tools can in turn influence our own development, religions shape the personalities of the people. Unfortunately, just as a knife can be used for constructive and destructive purposes, religion can be used in positive and negative ways.

One has to use this tool wisely.

RAMASWAMY VISWANATHAN
New Hyde Park, N.Y., May 31, 2013

The writer, a psychiatrist, is a member of the Committee on Psychiatry and Religion, Group for the Advancement of Psychiatry. 

Once again we see a writer arguing that the truth of religious claims simply doesn’t matter. I wonder if Viswanathan is religious, and, if so, whether he believes in the claims of his faith.  But certainly as a psychiatrist, I doubt that he’d approve of his patients conditioning their behavior on a delusion than on reality.

To the Editor:

T. M. Luhrmann believes (that word again) that evangelicals go to church to find joy, which is certainly a wonderful thing, but I think that she’s being a bit naïve in that it seems as if many churches use their beliefs to hold themselves apart from other beliefs and to stand in judgment of them.

The “joy” that many of them seek, and I say this from personal experience, is the hope that the apocalypse will soon come and that all the “sinners” — people of different beliefs — will be destroyed.

If this is what brings joy, then the “reach for joy” is certainly tainted.

HENRY STROZIER
Brooklyn, May 30, 2013

This is true for many evangelicals, but it goes further than that. Many of them don’t just believe in the apocalypse, but in the equation of abortion with murder, the sinfulness of homosexuality, and so on. That may bring the believers joy, but it’s not so good for everyone else.  Believing in things for bad reasons is, I think, always injurious in the end, for it enables one to ignore reality in many areas of life, gives one an unwarranted certainty about morality, and leads to divisions among different faiths. We can still have all the good stuff about religion without all the screwed-up and false beliefs.  That’s called humanism. The only thing missing is the pretense that we’ll live on after we die.

Another DNA anniversary, which tells a different story from the textbooks

June 6, 2013 • 7:16 am

by Matthew Cobb

60 years ago this week, June 5 – June 11 1953, the 18th annual Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory Symposium on Quantitative Biology took place on Long Island, New York. The topic was ‘Viruses’, and the papers that were presented were focused around recent discoveries from work on ‘phage (from ‘bacteriophage’), which was becoming a massive research area.

272 scientists crammed into the new lecture hall that had recently been built at Cold Spring Harbor. The site – which is still a major centre of genetic research – is on the north shore of Long Island. It is a marvellous place to study, with the waters of Long Island Sound lapping only a few metres from the entrances to some of the labs, and a beach where evening parties can be had and horseshoe crabs hove up to mate.

There were two stand-out papers given at the meeting, one of them based on research that had been published the year before, and the other that had only just appeared, and had nothing to do with viruses. Together, they changed the way we look at genes and evolution.

The more recent research was presented by a gangly 25 year old, who was dressed in shorts with his shirt hanging out (it can get very hot in Cold Spring Harbor at that time of year):

Watson
Jim Watson presenting the double helix structue of DNA at the 1953 meeting

His name – in case you haven’t twigged – was Jim Watson (whom Jerry spoke to the other day). A few weeks earlier Watson had published two articles in Nature, along with Francis Crick, describing the double helix structure of DNA and its genetical implications. The conference organiser, Max Delbrück, explained that he considered this discovery of such importance that he invited Watson to give a talk and circulated all attendees with copies of Watson & Crick’s first paper, along with those of Maurice Wilkins and Rosalind Franklin, which were published in the same April issue of Nature, and which provided the experimental evidence for Watson and Crick’s theoretical structure.

Watson’s paper (jointly signed by Crick, who was not present) summarises the content of all three papers, and also presented some unpublished data from Maurice Wilkins’ lab. He then went on to discuss the implications of the double helix for gene duplication (if you have one strand, the other strand can be copied from it, so from one molecule it is “straightforward” to get two copies).

Finally, Watson concluded with a brief discussion of mutation, which he correctly concluded involved the substitution of one kind of ‘base’ (A, T, C or G) for another. Looking back over 60 years of scientific discovery, his final section was surprisingly tentative, but quite justified. He first underlined that ‘proof or disproof’ of their structure would have to come from more experiments. No matter how elegant, how much it seemed the double helix must be true, experiments would decide.

And then there is this final sentence:

‘In any case the evidence for both the model and the suggested replication scheme will be strengthened when it can be shown unambiguously that the genetic specificity is carried by DNA alone, and on the molecular side, how the structure could exert a specific influence on the cell.’

The final phrase refers to what genes actually do, which took another decade to begin to realise. But in the opening phrase, Watson still appears to consider that there may be some ‘ambiguity’ about whether ‘genetic specificity’ (he did not use the term ‘information’) resided solely in DNA.

This is striking, because in a series of papers from 1944, Oswald Avery’s group shown that DNA alone carried specificity in pneumococcal bacteria (Watson was well aware of these papers – you can see more about Avery here).  Avery’s finding was not immediately accepted by everyone, partly because most people assumed that DNA was ‘boring’ and that it could not be ‘specific’, unlike proteins. However, in 1952, Al Hershey and Martha Chase had found very similar results to Avery with regard to DNA, in phage. That was the subject of the second key paper presented at the meeting.

Hershey worked at Cold Spring Harbor, and his 1952 paper with his technician, Chase, is now widely seen as convincing everyone that DNA was the genetic material. According to textbooks (which generally misrepresent the experiment), Hershey and Chase’s 1952 experiment provided the decisive proof that sections of the scientific community considered was lacking in Avery’s experiments. Things at the time were not quite so clear, as Watson’s bet-hedging shows.

Martha Chase (1928-2003) and Al Hershey (1908-1997) at the 1953 meeting

Even more surprising are the terms used by Al Hershey himself, who presented a paper summarising the results from his group. And from the outset warned his audience of the limits of his knowledge about DNA: ‘Unfortunately I shall not be able to say anything of consequence about its function.’

His results showed that if you made phage (= virus) DNA radioactive, you could show that radioactivity was found in the viral offspring, whereas if you made the virus protein radioactive, very little radioactivity was found in the offspring. This suggested, as he and Chase put it in 1952, that viral proteins had no role in reproduction, while DNA had some role.

But amazingly, despite all his experiments, even in 1953 — even after the double helix—Hershey remained unconvinced that DNA was the sole source of heredity. The conclusion to his 1953 paper summarises three strands of evidence that DNA has a genetic role (I summarise in turn):

1. The amount of DNA in chromosomes is consistent in a species, not in a given kind of tissue

2. DNA can transform bacteria

3. DNA plays some unidentified role in one kind of viral infection.

He then stated:

‘None of these, nor all together, forms a sufficient basis for scientific judgement concerning the genetic function of DNA. The evidence or this statement is that biologists (all of whom, being human, have an opinion) are about equally divided pro and con. My own guess is that DNA will not prove to be a unique determiner of genetic specificity, but that contributions to the question will be made in the future only by persons willing to entertain the contrary view.’ (my italics)

This statement is far stronger than Watson’s bet-hedging. In June 1953, despite Avery, despite his own experiments, Hershey still thought that proteins played a role in heredity. Now that’s a story you don’t get in the textbooks.

This situation continued for some time. Even in the late 1950s, when it was still the case that the genetic role of DNA had not been demonstrated in any multicellular organism,  scientists were regularly presenting the suggestion that ‘all genes are made of DNA’ as a ‘working hypothesis’. No matter how likely it seemed, the proof was not yet there. And that caution – the essence of science, no matter how history might telescope past findings on the basis of current knowledge – is the reason why both Watson and Hershey were still hesitant, even in the summer of 1953.

Uncle Eric once again goes after scientism and New Atheism, touting “other ways of knowing.” I. The supposed failures of New Atheism

June 6, 2013 • 6:03 am

The good news is that, as most of us know, Eric MacDonald, the Official Website Uncle™, reinstated his website Choice in Dying after a very short interlude at Freethought Blogs and an announcement that he would write no more. I’m glad he changed his mind.

The bad news is that Uncle Eric is banging on again about the failures of New Atheism, the dangers of scientism, and the vindication of Other Ways of Knowing.  He and I have had this argument several times, and it saddens me that it’s still going on, for I think that Eric, for all his wisdom, is palpably wrong here.

But into the fray. Eric’s latest pair of posts, How several misunderstandings led Megan Hodder to faith,” and “On not replacing one system of doctines [sic] with another” are related, and espouse all three themes: the failures of New Atheism, especially its inability to replace what religion gives people; the dangers of scientism, which Eric apparently sees as a pervasive and destructive attitude; and the fact that there are Ways of Knowing other than science.  I’ll take quotes from both pair of essays, and to avoid making this response too long, I’ll divide it into several parts. Let’s take Eric’s first claim:

New Atheism has been a failure. The failure is apparently twofold: first is the common accusation—and I’m surprised to see this from Eric—that the New Atheists don’t come to grips with the “best” arguments for religion, proffering instead a simplistic caricature:

Megan [Hodder, a new Catholic driven to faith by reading the New Atheists] didn’t understand that. Nor do many of those who have read the new atheists, and who think that it is enough to field simplistic arguments that amount to no more than caricaturing religious believers as intellectual lightweights who argue from simplistic premises to definite conclusions, which often take the form of “Such-and-so, ergo Jesus.”

To be fair, note that the next sentence is “And some people’s religious faith is indeed simplistic in precisely this way.”  But he goes on to say:

One of the unfortunate results of P.Z. Myers “Courtier’s Reply,” is that it has actually discouraged people from looking more closely at the arguments themselves. As an immediate response to a kind of popular demolition of religious belief it has much to commend it, but if it is taken as a careless refusal to consider the religious case more deeply, then it can be found, as Megan Hodder found it, self-defeating.

I find this strange, because in my correspondence with Eric and in his comments on my website, he has always maintained that the arguments of more “sophisticated” theologians are simply a bunch of verbose twaddle, no more substantive than those of less refined believers. When I read more deeply in theology and found it wanting, Eric basically said, “See, I told you so!”

In fact, the “such-and-so, ergo Jesus” argument—which I take as a direct criticism of me, since I’ve said that often—is often close to the mark, even with Sophisticated Theologians™.  Take Alvin Plantinga, who sees Christianity and the divinity of Jesus as “basic beliefs.” That’s precisely the “ergo Jesus” argument above.  Likewise with all the New Natural Thelogians like John Haught, John Polkinghorne, Karl Giberson, and the like, who claim that the existence of certain unexplained phenomena, like the “fine tuning” of physical constants, or instinctive morality in humans, is direct evidence for God.  That’s surely an “ergo Jesus” claim. So let’s leave this “we don’t understand the deep religious case” behind because, even by Eric’s admission, it’s bunk.

The other claim, which has lately become quite popular, is that New Atheism is a failure because it demolishes religion without putting anything in its place.  That is, people are religious for social as well as epistemic reasons, and we simply haven’t considered that deeply enough.  And when we do, then we’ll know that to efface religion from our world we must also assume the burden of replacing what we take away. As Eric says:

Nevertheless, I would go further, and point out that, as a cultural product, religion still provides for millions, probably billions of people, a cultural context within which to go about the business of creating a life. It does not seem to me that atheism has really grappled sufficiently with this problem, though humanism has certainly begun to make inroads here. Still, even so, the context within which most young people are expected to go about shaping their lives, and examining them as they go, is still largely the product of thousands of years of religious believing, where it has not been eroded completely. We should be in the business of replacing some of this religious context by one that can actually stand the test of real world experiences. Until then religions will continue to pull up the slack for a lot of people who are looking for cultural contexts within which they can live and seek to understand the significance of their lives.

and

But the more comprehensive ideal, that shaped much education until very recently, of providing the materials out of which individuals in community could shape worthwhile and meaningful lives, has fallen on hard times. New atheists take little interest in this because, at root, the solution is thought to be quite simple. The answer is simply more science. For if science is the only route to the truth, then science should be an educational panacea that needs no further insight or support.

No, the answer is science combined with humanism, a humanism that comes from adopting Enlightenment values.

With all due respect, Eric is erecting a strawman here. Who among us thinks that science, at least conceived as the acquisition of truth by professional scientists, will tell us how to replace religion? First of all, it’s not clear the religion needs replacing with anything other than a caring, just, and egalitarian society—the purview of humanism. Second, it’s not clear that when religion disappears because its tenets can no longer be supported rationally, the replacement of what it gives to people can’t be achieved by a natural process of cultural evolution. If people don’t believe in God, they will find other ways to fulfill their social needs. I don’t see that it’s up to us to tell them what to do. For one thing, it’s patronizing: think of the failed “atheist church” suggestions of Alain de Botton, and how ludicrous and unnecessary they were.

I see the dispelling of religion as a good in itself. As Steve Gould used to say, getting rid of bad science—which in many ways is like getting rid of religion—is a good things, for it clears away misconceptions that are harmful. There’s no need, when criticizing a bad paper or a mistaken result, to also provide the correct result.  Without religion, many horrible things would vanish from this world: persecution of gays, much persecution of women, persecution of people of other faiths, invidious control of sexual behavior, warping of young lives by instilling guilt, and so on.

Finally, empirical methods can indeed help us build a better world, despite Eric’s claim that

We can only determine what constitutes human flourishing by finding out what human beings value, or, perhaps, more correctly, what they ought to value; and if we want to think of value as somehow “out there” in the world, we must find out what things have value. It is not clear that the new atheism, which tends in a determinedly scientistic direction, has an answer to these questions, and it is not clear that it is altogether aware of the consequences of this failure to provide an answer.

Well, science can’t tell us what we ought to value, for that’s a subjective judgment. But it can help us determine what we do value, simply by surveying people or examining their behavior. That can be done empirically, and constitutes “science” if one construes the term as meaning “the use of reason, logic, and observation to determine what exists in the universe.” And once we know what we do value, or want to value, science can help us achieve it.  If, for example, we find that humans value health, then we can simply develop better treatments and drugs and get those to as many people as possible.  All of that rests on empirical observation, even the claim that free health care for everyone won’t destroy our economy.

I often say that when societies become godless, and do so naturally, their members simply develop other vehicles to meet their needs for communality, comity, and so on. After all, that’s what happened in Scandinavia, where belief in God has largely disappeared yet society is flourishing. Eric has an answer for that, but it’s not convincing:

Sometimes new atheists point to Scandinavia as the place where religion is merely the formal background to a largely irreligious culture. But this is, to my mind, a misunderstanding of the role that religion still plays in the region, even where very few people take part in religious celebrations or observances. I think of the small town in which I live. I have no idea what percentage of the population actually attends church or practices some other religious observance, but I suspect that it is less that 50%. Yet it would be hard to say what life in this town would be like without the resources of the churches themselves, and the invisible cultural framework that they provide for the lives even of those who do not participate in them. Neglecting this dimension of culture is, I believe, a serious misunderstanding by those who do not or can no longer believe. Places that were officially, if not actually, atheist, did not simply abandon the kinds of cultural observance which in North America or Europe are often provided by the religions. They created rituals and celebrations of their own which provided a kind of cultural cement giving individual lives context and meaning.

Well, perhaps some Danes and Swedes can weigh in here, but I simply can’t see how the presence and resources of churches have been the framework for social flourishing in Scandinavia.  Really? Atheists in Denmark derive great succor from the presence of churches nearby?

What Eric neglects here is that churches and rituals that used to exist in Scandinavia haven’t been supplanted by secular venues and rituals. Danes, Swedes, and Norwegians celebrate “rituals” exactly the same way that religious people do: funerals, birthday celebrations, weddings and the like.  Those will occur on their own, and New Atheists don’t have to say “we need more weddings,” or, à la Botton, “we need atheist ‘churches’ and rituals.”  Water will seek its own level.  People will find what they need. No, religion in Scandinavia has been replaced not by other rituals, but by developing the kind of socieities that make religion unnecessary: societies that provide health care, succor for the aged and poor, and a sense of being cared about.

But, as I said, I don’t find it necessary for New Atheism to replace religion with other stuff that people need. Getting rid of faith itself is an inherent good, and will go far to ease the world’s troubles. If one wants to go further, well, there’s humanism, but that’s a separate issue. Regardless of Richard Dawkins’s supposed ignorance of theology, his “simplistic” arguments against religion, and his failure to suggest replacements for faith, he’s done the world a lot of good.

I was going to discuss in this post the other two aspects of Eric’s criticisms—for when they come from our side they’re certainly worth considering—but this is already getting long, so I’ll deal later with the twin issues of scientism and “other ways of knowing.” But I’m curious to know why Eric has lately donned the mask of R. Joseph Hoffmann.

Self-aggrandizement

June 6, 2013 • 3:24 am

This site is very often among WordPress’s top bl–s, at least according to my dashboard. Below are last night’s rankings, and I have to say I’m pleased with our position.

The competitors (rankings change) often include two science-y websites, and the rest deal with pop culture. The Extinction Protocol  seems largely concerned with apocalyptic events that presage the earth’s demise: volcanoes, earthquakes, changes in weather patterns, and the like. I haven’t read it enough to know the real theme. The perennially popular “Watt’s up with that?” appears to promotes global warming denialism. I’ve heard it criticized by environmentalists but again don’t know much about it.

NM Fire Info” is a site that provides information about fires in New Mexico; I don’t know watt’s up with that unless its appearance is transitory due to fires in that state.

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