Via Jerry Coyne, I came across this exchange between Sam Harris and David Eagleman. Boring, standardized inaccuracies about the relationship between atheism, New Atheism, and certainty aside, I think that the problems with Eagleman's `Possibilianism' are deeper than Harris recognizes, insofar as such a thing is possible to say after flat-out inconsistency has been established.
The error which pervades his website and his talk is a simple one: a black/white split between commitment and non-commitment. He appears to be irretrievably mired in the old "believe X/believe not X/suspend judgment" trichotomy. Like many other three-horned creatures, this sort of thinking feels awfully... extinct. On first and other inspections, Possibilianism appears to be Bayesianism without the rigor. One simply enumerates possibilities - apparently as only emphasized for theism, though I do not see why other propositions should not be similarly attended to - and does not worry about things like analytical usefulness or Dutch-books or probabilistic consistency or positing any principled means of updating commitments. It looks like dodging and attention-getting; it smells like dodging and attention-getting; and yet here I am, about to give it a taste-test as well. I suspect this is about to get deeply unhealthy.
Perhaps Eagleman is wholly unfamiliar with analytic philosophy or the philosophy of science, despite his heavy allusions to the same. In Bayesianism, one holds `multiple ideas' in ones head, but not simply as possibilities but as articles with differing probabilities. As one of the simplest theories in probability runs, prob(X)+prob(~X)=1, a statement that generalizes to any finite partitioning of possibilities on the assumption of finite additivity, which is itself an implication of the stronger assumption of countable additivity, which itself yields an analogous result. Another popular standard, widely-assumed, is regularity, which states that all possible propositions have probability greater than 0.
So a Bayesian who accepts regularity as regards coherently formulated definitions of God is already holding the possibilities in mind. Further, the confidences allotted to the differing possibilities are reflected in one's prior whenever updating on new discoveries. One may even update on uncertain propositions using Jeffrey Conditioning. All around the world today, Bayesians are wagering on uncertainty and on propositions for which no decisive evidence exists. For all of these methods, there are various arguments, and the limits and applications of these methods are items of active research and discussion. In the absence of any evidence, equivocation is the most popular method. So, what exactly does David Eagleman have to offer?
T-shirts and confusion and "boy is this Universe is a counter-intuitive and amazing place!"
He uses terms like `likelihood' and other probabilistic language, but does not seem to understand probabilism. In this matter, he appears to be similar to (most of) the New Atheists, minus his uncomprehending overview. The New Atheists are if anything more consistent with probabilism in their language than is Eagleman.
It really is that bad. This sort of `oh look at my radical new way of thinking about knowledge (especially theistic belief)' annoys me to no end, especially when it comes in the form of a condescending lecture to us over-certain militant atheists/theists. If only we opened our minds to uncertainty and possibility! Then we'd all get along.
Whether it's the `God transcends existence' crowd or the `we need a new agnosticism crowd', the boring, ignorant element remains. Because these are all useless, they are all doomed to be fads, the passing symptoms of those who are uncomfortable with using accurate words for self-description, these being loathed due to exposure to various sorts of reaction and cheap sloganeering. "Oh I don't want to be dogmatic like those atheists," or "oh I don't want to be a fundamentalist like those theists." Those. Those. Not me. No way. They lazily search for Third Ways that already exist and in a form superior to their imaginations, or they simply wax incoherent; they pay little attention to existing criticisms, which they cannot know to be relevant because they are ignorant.
Gimme my TED talk, please! I'd love to profit from an exciting, revolutionary proposal of stuff that's been around for centuries. Hell, I'll make up my own new word for probabilism and decision theory and have my own movement. I'll call it `nicepersonopenmindednessism' or `uncertaintyisgoodpolicyism'. Goodness, I could write a book! To ensure originality, I'll fudge a few details. I'd hate to be thought a plagiarist. `Mysterianism' is already taken, alas. (I note that Mysterianism is actually worth looking at.)
Edit (9/5/2011): I would recommend reading this before watching the TED talk.
Showing posts with label atheism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label atheism. Show all posts
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Leo Behe, interviewed
The New Humanist has interviewed Leo Behe, son of Intelligent Design (ID) extraordinaire and Irreducible Complexity (IC) proponent Michael Behe. I remember hearing of his atheism through rumbles on blogs several months back; if I recall correctly, he made his debut over at Reddit.
Interestingly, Michael Behe is Catholic. And if I get a correct impression from Edward Feser, ID does not have a place in Thomistic philosophy. For now, I leave that dispute to others, but my overall impression is that Catholic objections to ID are two-pronged: (1) the anti-evolutionary portion of ID (practically all of it) is inadequate, and (2) ID conflicts with Thomistic philosophy. Though the Church itself has a record of some ambivalence as regards particular details of evolutionary theory, I think I can understand why its popularity is primarily due to evangelicals who are not ready to risk defending Young Earth Creationism or who think a literal Ark unimportant. I'm not a `compatibilist' in any broad sense as regards modern science and religious orthodoxy, but as regards Catholicism, the door here hardly seems to have been `forced open by our Enlightenment and the advancing progress of Science', as one narrative popular amongst atheists runs. At least not in any non-trivial sense I can think of.
On to Leo Behe: I do not think that his atheism is a particularly strong indictment of ID or Christianity. (I haven't seen it used as such by any big names yet. Let me know if I am wrong.) Following the interview, his story is very similar to those of other atheists who grew up without ever being exposed to critical writing regarding their faith. Though my own deconversion was a longer and more stochastic process than Leo Behe's seems to have been, there are many similar threads. I happen to have been much younger, and it was a first exposure to the history of philosophy which started my intellectual journey. What resonates more deeply with me is the following:
Echoing an earlier comment by PZ Myers, I am glad to see that Michael and Leo are not locked in bitter conflict over this. And I do not see the lack of bitterness as overly surprising. I find the following to be particularly important:
But it nevertheless remains important that we give credit of sincerity until the contrary is decisively demonstrated. I of course have often failed to do this.
(H/t Jason Rosenhouse.)
Interestingly, Michael Behe is Catholic. And if I get a correct impression from Edward Feser, ID does not have a place in Thomistic philosophy. For now, I leave that dispute to others, but my overall impression is that Catholic objections to ID are two-pronged: (1) the anti-evolutionary portion of ID (practically all of it) is inadequate, and (2) ID conflicts with Thomistic philosophy. Though the Church itself has a record of some ambivalence as regards particular details of evolutionary theory, I think I can understand why its popularity is primarily due to evangelicals who are not ready to risk defending Young Earth Creationism or who think a literal Ark unimportant. I'm not a `compatibilist' in any broad sense as regards modern science and religious orthodoxy, but as regards Catholicism, the door here hardly seems to have been `forced open by our Enlightenment and the advancing progress of Science', as one narrative popular amongst atheists runs. At least not in any non-trivial sense I can think of.
On to Leo Behe: I do not think that his atheism is a particularly strong indictment of ID or Christianity. (I haven't seen it used as such by any big names yet. Let me know if I am wrong.) Following the interview, his story is very similar to those of other atheists who grew up without ever being exposed to critical writing regarding their faith. Though my own deconversion was a longer and more stochastic process than Leo Behe's seems to have been, there are many similar threads. I happen to have been much younger, and it was a first exposure to the history of philosophy which started my intellectual journey. What resonates more deeply with me is the following:
I told my mother, initially, who told my father. The discussion was very calm—there was no argument. I didn’t suffer any sort of restrictive backlash, however, there is a sort of social taboo on the topic with family and friends. I mostly keep it to myself, as atheism is generally frowned upon among the people I know. Basically, it’s not a problem as long as it’s not talked about.I experienced only a brief, sputtering attempt at argument. Apart from that, my impression was exactly the same, and it was a common one. Atheism is fine, as long as you're quiet about it. The destruction of this conceit and the utter extirpation of its vestiges is what I take to be the primary and most worthy task of the `New Atheism', my other disagreements aside. Once it is wholly acceptable to bring religion back to the discussion table and the wincing noises subside, I hope we can move on to a more careful understanding of philosophy and science. Hence why I take fighting trends to the contrary to be an important task.
Echoing an earlier comment by PZ Myers, I am glad to see that Michael and Leo are not locked in bitter conflict over this. And I do not see the lack of bitterness as overly surprising. I find the following to be particularly important:
I would like everyone to realize that [Michael Behe] doesn’t have any sort of religious agenda and he’s not trying to denigrate science in any way. Long-held beliefs, especially beliefs developed during childhood, operate on a very deep and basic level of thought—almost subconsciously. These beliefs can exist independently in a perfectly honest and intelligent scientist who is simply doing his part to further theories or ideas that he believes are supported by the scientific data. The best way to progress is through respectful and thoughtful discussion and debate, as it has always been.Perhaps this could be said of Michael Behe, but I can hardly feel the same way about the ID movement generally, not with Dembski and Johnson and Luskin floating about. But Eugenie Scott, amongst others, has recognized that a common thread in ID thought is that morality and the goodness of society are really threatened by materialistic science. I think that this belief is quite sincere; that continuity from the YEC school, conjoined with culture warrior mentality and hysteria about abortion, has yet to fade. I'm not sure that I have high hopes for `respectful and thoughtful discussion', at least not on the popular level.
But it nevertheless remains important that we give credit of sincerity until the contrary is decisively demonstrated. I of course have often failed to do this.
(H/t Jason Rosenhouse.)
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
The Emancipatory Potential of Atheism
[This is addressed to miscellaneous leftist critics of atheism.]
The crime of Thomas Paine was not that he doubted scripture; it was that he doubted it in front of a popular audience. Only recently has he been rehabilitated in American political life as a revolutionary hero; only with the aid of secularist activism - particularly that of Robert G. Ingersoll - has his principled courage been resurrected from a tomb of historical slanders.
In recent history - and, I think, the bulk of distant history - the primary attitude of controlling elites with respect to religion has been in the crudest sense utilitarian. Eisenhower exemplifies this attitude in many oft-cited quotations.
"Our government makes no sense unless it is founded in a deeply felt religious faith, and I don't care what that faith is."
His underlying attitude is in fact shared by Paine - not an atheist - and other `deistic' figures of the enlightenment: the equality of man is necessarily grounded in God, or at least, belief in God. But like Eisenhower, most pursue this thread further than Paine. Atheism may be tolerated, so long as it presents itself quietly and in academic or otherwise elite contexts. It is this longstanding attitude that modern atheism has struggled against and struggles against. I repeat for emphasis: the primary enemy of modern atheists is not religion, but a `religion of religion' or `belief in belief', which is held as holy writ even amongst the secular. Atheists have had some success in this direction; young as I am and in the Southeastern US though I might be, I have seen definite changes.
I do not maintain the untenable: atheism is no guarantor of liberty and welfare, nor is it a sufficient condition for humanitarian care and action. It would be otiose to cite examples here. Nor do I maintain that religious belief precludes humanitarian action. Again, it would be pointless to rattle off cases. I also do not hold that atheists as a group frequently make the most of their advantages. I will not list specifics. I would not dare propose that only atheists be admitted in a progressive party, nor would I propose any internal, rationalist purges of the faithful.
What I do maintain is the emancipatory potential of atheism. Many religions have a similar emancipatory potential, but there are limits and risks. Rather and as always, the decisive question you must ask yourself is this: what is true? Ask yourself carefully; your religious confederates may do the same.
Is exclusive salvation true? Are people divided into the Hell-bound and Heaven-hopeful? Suppose that were the case; do you maintain it has no effect on a utilitarian calculation of action? What if you convince your religious counterparts that religion will diminish or dissolve after the revolution? What does this mean? Should I list more difficulties?
No, I do not suspect that you regard these questions as essential, and regard yourself as fair-minded and priority-focused in disregarding them. But what this masks is a profound contempt for the critical faculties of your fellows, an essential condescension for those `private beliefs', those which you judge false and irrational, and which raise fundamental inconsistencies in the ethics of their actions.
To not see religion - yes, even the watery kind - as a fundamental category is to not understand it. To not be an atheist that is also focused and philosophical, well-read and comprehending, is to cling to inconsistency. Seeing brothers and sisters suffer, a religious person, in compassion and intelligence, may seek to systematically banish as much as she may the pains of her neighbors. In all likelihood, she will be content to treat doctrinal inconsistencies and complications as `mysteries', and ignore them.
And she will raise her children to be religious because she thinks it will make them good. And one day, her or her children will see the paradox, and the internal struggle is as follows: the logic of atheism, or of revival? Revivalism will persist for the foreseeable future, even if a socialist revolution were realized.
What I hold as a minimum is that comfort in an ignorance of religion is necessarily opposed to the principled bettering of society. Today, atheists and the religious are alike content to share this ignorance, yet this is a perverse extension of viewing religious belief as private and subjective - where this is even true. It is not enough to be an atheist; first and foremost, one must be a rationalist and a lover of truth. That we as secular people, hardly a few generations distant from blasphemy laws, forget our tenuous status shocks my conscience.
If you do not wish to distribute polemics against religion as part of your propaganda, I will not be bothered. But the mantra of `privacy' is not enough. Air your opinions as individuals, and if consensus is not to be had, seek the outlines of your disagreements. You do not in being honest have to split the party on religiously sectarian lines. If by airing your opinions about religion you manage to cause a split, ask yourself what the problem really was.
The crime of Thomas Paine was not that he doubted scripture; it was that he doubted it in front of a popular audience. Only recently has he been rehabilitated in American political life as a revolutionary hero; only with the aid of secularist activism - particularly that of Robert G. Ingersoll - has his principled courage been resurrected from a tomb of historical slanders.
In recent history - and, I think, the bulk of distant history - the primary attitude of controlling elites with respect to religion has been in the crudest sense utilitarian. Eisenhower exemplifies this attitude in many oft-cited quotations.
"Our government makes no sense unless it is founded in a deeply felt religious faith, and I don't care what that faith is."
His underlying attitude is in fact shared by Paine - not an atheist - and other `deistic' figures of the enlightenment: the equality of man is necessarily grounded in God, or at least, belief in God. But like Eisenhower, most pursue this thread further than Paine. Atheism may be tolerated, so long as it presents itself quietly and in academic or otherwise elite contexts. It is this longstanding attitude that modern atheism has struggled against and struggles against. I repeat for emphasis: the primary enemy of modern atheists is not religion, but a `religion of religion' or `belief in belief', which is held as holy writ even amongst the secular. Atheists have had some success in this direction; young as I am and in the Southeastern US though I might be, I have seen definite changes.
I do not maintain the untenable: atheism is no guarantor of liberty and welfare, nor is it a sufficient condition for humanitarian care and action. It would be otiose to cite examples here. Nor do I maintain that religious belief precludes humanitarian action. Again, it would be pointless to rattle off cases. I also do not hold that atheists as a group frequently make the most of their advantages. I will not list specifics. I would not dare propose that only atheists be admitted in a progressive party, nor would I propose any internal, rationalist purges of the faithful.
What I do maintain is the emancipatory potential of atheism. Many religions have a similar emancipatory potential, but there are limits and risks. Rather and as always, the decisive question you must ask yourself is this: what is true? Ask yourself carefully; your religious confederates may do the same.
Is exclusive salvation true? Are people divided into the Hell-bound and Heaven-hopeful? Suppose that were the case; do you maintain it has no effect on a utilitarian calculation of action? What if you convince your religious counterparts that religion will diminish or dissolve after the revolution? What does this mean? Should I list more difficulties?
No, I do not suspect that you regard these questions as essential, and regard yourself as fair-minded and priority-focused in disregarding them. But what this masks is a profound contempt for the critical faculties of your fellows, an essential condescension for those `private beliefs', those which you judge false and irrational, and which raise fundamental inconsistencies in the ethics of their actions.
To not see religion - yes, even the watery kind - as a fundamental category is to not understand it. To not be an atheist that is also focused and philosophical, well-read and comprehending, is to cling to inconsistency. Seeing brothers and sisters suffer, a religious person, in compassion and intelligence, may seek to systematically banish as much as she may the pains of her neighbors. In all likelihood, she will be content to treat doctrinal inconsistencies and complications as `mysteries', and ignore them.
And she will raise her children to be religious because she thinks it will make them good. And one day, her or her children will see the paradox, and the internal struggle is as follows: the logic of atheism, or of revival? Revivalism will persist for the foreseeable future, even if a socialist revolution were realized.
What I hold as a minimum is that comfort in an ignorance of religion is necessarily opposed to the principled bettering of society. Today, atheists and the religious are alike content to share this ignorance, yet this is a perverse extension of viewing religious belief as private and subjective - where this is even true. It is not enough to be an atheist; first and foremost, one must be a rationalist and a lover of truth. That we as secular people, hardly a few generations distant from blasphemy laws, forget our tenuous status shocks my conscience.
If you do not wish to distribute polemics against religion as part of your propaganda, I will not be bothered. But the mantra of `privacy' is not enough. Air your opinions as individuals, and if consensus is not to be had, seek the outlines of your disagreements. You do not in being honest have to split the party on religiously sectarian lines. If by airing your opinions about religion you manage to cause a split, ask yourself what the problem really was.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Trying to formalize the OTF
Via Victor Reppert, I came across another atheistic critique of the OTF by Thrasymachus. Inspired by its superior clarity, I have decided to further clarify my previous objections. Thrasymachus is also replying to a previous reply by Loftus which is better suited to my purposes than his other writings.
Thrasymachus focuses on the OTF as premised by Loftus in this post:
1. Rational people in distinct geographical locations around the globe overwhelmingly adopt and defend a wide diversity of religious faiths due to their upbringing and cultural heritage. This is the religious diversity thesis.
2. Consequently, it seems very likely that adopting one’s religious faith is not merely a matter of independent rational judgment but is causally dependent on cultural conditions to an overwhelming degree. This is the religious dependency thesis.
3. Hence the odds are highly likely that any given adopted religious faith is false.
4. So the best way to test one’s adopted religious faith is from the perspective of an outsider with the same level of skepticism used to evaluate other religious faiths. This ex-presses the OTF.
Loftus uses the phrase "the odds are highly likely" in response to the observation that a deductive equivalent of the above is invalid. But as Thrasymachus points out, it still is not clear that (3) follows from (1)/(2).
First, let me clear some fumes: I am assuming that everyone involved agrees that certainty in religious beliefs is unwarranted. I am also assuming that after this is recognized, the religious beliefs in question can be probabilized. This is not always obvious: some claims are not obviously susceptible to forceful probabilities. The doctrine of the Trinity, for example, has other conceptual issues to clear up before this may be done. Instead of throwing up our hands, we can focus on the subset of putative truths essential to Christianity (C) which can be probabilized, e.g. the Resurrection. It is the probability of these claims in conjunction that is represented by prob(C).
Second, (1) assumes that differing religious people are or can be rational, at least in the sense that their beliefs are internally consistent. Else, we have no need of the OTF, as incoherency arguments would more than suffice.
Now we can see what would be required for (3) to follow from (1) and (2). I will set as a threshold that (3)/(4) translate as requiring, at a minimum, that Christianity is not more likely to be true than not, i.e. 0.5>p(C). Denote the religious diversity thesis by Div, the religious dependency thesis by Dep, and p the prior probability of some unspecified Christian.1 The odds form of Bayes' Theorem is as follows:
.
To get (3)/(4) as I interpret them, we need
.
In order for this to be the case, we need to know three different quantities. p(C)=1-p(~C), p(Div & Dep|C), and p(Div & Dep|~C). All we can say about p(C) is that it is greater than 1/2, as we are talking about a believer's prior. So we need something at least as strong as p(Div & Dep|~C)>p(Div & Dep|C). But as I pointed out in a previous post, not even this inequality must hold.
And so we come to the reason why I did not attempt to formalize the OTF much earlier: it simply isn't a probabilistic inference; it is a demand about priors. I think this is why Loftus has yet to put an argument about probabilities in terms of formal probabilities, as far as I can find. This is not a case of updating a prior set of rational beliefs to a new probability by reasoned argument. Instead, it is an attempt to force a reworking of priors based on evidence.2 Again, I do not see why Christians need to accept this; intellectual consistency only requires that they account for Div and Dep by calculating their effects on their beliefs through conditioning.
Here we depart from the most accepted form of Bayesianism, i.e. subjective Bayesianism, entirely. We are encountering a curious version of objective Bayesianism. `Normal' objective Bayesians calculate `informationless' priors by equivocating across possibilities. What Loftus appears to want, as I noted in my previous posts, is that we gauge p(C) in something like the following way:
a. p(C)=1/N where N is the number of possible, mutually contradictory religions.
b. p(C)=1/N where N is the number of mutually contradictory religions in human history.
c. p(C)=1/N where N is the number of existing, mutually contradictory religions.
[Each of the above has an analogue where `religions' is replaced by `Christian sects'.]
d. p(C)=x where x is the frequency of the occurrence of Christians with respect to the general population. (Of the country, or world, or something.)
e. p(C)=A/B where B is the number of rational people and A is the number of rational people who are Christians.
And so on. Before moving on, the first response our Christian might deploy to any combination of the above is a simple one: No.
He is presumed to be rational and he can account for (1)/(2) in the usual way. Sorry to wax tautological, but he simply cannot be convicted of irrationality or unreasonableness whenever he is being both rational and reasonable, as judged by standard philosophical criteria. To go further with this, Loftus will have to mount a convincing attack on Bayesianism itself.
And of course we run into the earlier problem yet again; the argument Loftus presents cannot be probabilized. None of the above statements follows, or can follow, deductively or probabilistically, from (1)/(2).
I could continue on about the other problems, especially as they pertain to Loftus' desire to demand priors about religion but not about secular claims, or that this approach would most likely result in a weaker case against Christianity than the traditional arguments, but I've said this already, and Thrasymachus has done a better job explicating it. I could repeat why `skepticism' is not a sort of default, and that positive claims will be necessary to argue against Christianity. (Otherwise, it's the fallacy of probabilistic Modus Tollens all the way down.) Or, I could reiterate some of Reppert's objections; for example, (1) and (2) are not so undeniably true as Loftus suggests, and Christians may account for differing religions using faith-based claims. The Pharaoh's magicians did not perform wonders so great as Aaron's, but they still made a snake out of a staff. Also, demons and sinful nature.
I pause. Is the argument really this straightforwardly awful? How does Loftus defend it?
What else can I say? Nothing about this argument works, nor could it conceivably be reworked to capture what Loftus wants. There's a reason for this: it isn't actually an argument. It is a symptom of Loftus' assumption that he objectively and most accurately views the world in a culture-transcendent way.
I might have spoken too soon: if a Christian happens to trust Loftus more than God, there may be an opening for the OTF.
One last quibble to anticipate an objection: Loftus may claim that he is not addressing Calvinists, only evangelical Christians. That doesn't change the fact that his argument is not even an argument of that form. For this discrepancy to matter, he must restate his argument so as to account for variations in prior probability and variations in the Bayes factor specific to the religion in which he is interested. That is, he must pursue normal argumentation.
If he does so, I'll be more than happy.
1. It has to be this way, as we are interested in whether or not warrant for religion can be retained, not just how a skeptic feels about religion.
2. This is much weirder than anything attempted by normal objective Bayesians. I do not know of any accepted precedent for an approach like this.
Edit 8/8/11: I've been having a blast with acronyms lately. Please plagiarize the hell out of this excerpt from a comment at Reppert's place:
Thrasymachus focuses on the OTF as premised by Loftus in this post:
1. Rational people in distinct geographical locations around the globe overwhelmingly adopt and defend a wide diversity of religious faiths due to their upbringing and cultural heritage. This is the religious diversity thesis.
2. Consequently, it seems very likely that adopting one’s religious faith is not merely a matter of independent rational judgment but is causally dependent on cultural conditions to an overwhelming degree. This is the religious dependency thesis.
3. Hence the odds are highly likely that any given adopted religious faith is false.
4. So the best way to test one’s adopted religious faith is from the perspective of an outsider with the same level of skepticism used to evaluate other religious faiths. This ex-presses the OTF.
Loftus uses the phrase "the odds are highly likely" in response to the observation that a deductive equivalent of the above is invalid. But as Thrasymachus points out, it still is not clear that (3) follows from (1)/(2).
First, let me clear some fumes: I am assuming that everyone involved agrees that certainty in religious beliefs is unwarranted. I am also assuming that after this is recognized, the religious beliefs in question can be probabilized. This is not always obvious: some claims are not obviously susceptible to forceful probabilities. The doctrine of the Trinity, for example, has other conceptual issues to clear up before this may be done. Instead of throwing up our hands, we can focus on the subset of putative truths essential to Christianity (C) which can be probabilized, e.g. the Resurrection. It is the probability of these claims in conjunction that is represented by prob(C).
Second, (1) assumes that differing religious people are or can be rational, at least in the sense that their beliefs are internally consistent. Else, we have no need of the OTF, as incoherency arguments would more than suffice.
Now we can see what would be required for (3) to follow from (1) and (2). I will set as a threshold that (3)/(4) translate as requiring, at a minimum, that Christianity is not more likely to be true than not, i.e. 0.5>p(C). Denote the religious diversity thesis by Div, the religious dependency thesis by Dep, and p the prior probability of some unspecified Christian.1 The odds form of Bayes' Theorem is as follows:
To get (3)/(4) as I interpret them, we need
In order for this to be the case, we need to know three different quantities. p(C)=1-p(~C), p(Div & Dep|C), and p(Div & Dep|~C). All we can say about p(C) is that it is greater than 1/2, as we are talking about a believer's prior. So we need something at least as strong as p(Div & Dep|~C)>p(Div & Dep|C). But as I pointed out in a previous post, not even this inequality must hold.
At the end of my last post, I asked a question: what would Calvin think of the OTF? It wasn't an idle question. If you are a Christian who believes in the predestination of the Elect and the Fallen world, the fact that your religion is one amongst many is not a surprise. That few have the right faith may not bother you at all. As far as I am aware, nothing about your religion says that it should not appear to an outsider as one among many. Strange then that advocates of the OTF tell you that the existence of other religions discredits your religion. You can reasonably say, "my religion looks like one of many to you? Swell, your point being? We agree about this, and it bothers me not. For chances are that you are not one of the Elect and are not destined for Salvation and understanding. That you and others do not believe as I do does not surprise me in the least; if anything, I would be surprised if outsiders readily understood the Truth and could easily aspire to it, as I understand otherwise."But it gets worse: even in the cases where the requisite inequality does hold, it may not be large enough to require our believer to make further arguments so as to defend his faith. This is because we still need to know what values of p(C) are warranted. Sure, it's less than 1, but is it less than 0.999 or 0.8?
One can argue against such a person, but the appearance of his beliefs to a skeptic should not itself constitute an argument.
The case is different whenever we look at more common evangelical versions of Christianity, in which it is asserted that God intervenes or has intervened to aid Christianity and that the Holy Spirit works on the consciences of most or all to guide them to Truth. Free will. All that jazz. If a supernatural agency is at work in the Christian sociology of Christianity, then it is surprisingly hidden in the actual sociological details concerning Christianity. Here, the fact that Christian belief is largely a function of geography and parenting is very surprising. To a person who thinks that Christianity is a natural phenomenon, it should not be. I think that this is a very powerful argument against evangelical Christianity.
Notice then that there are at least two possible outcomes of "Christianity is like other religions to an outsider": it is irrelevant to some Christians, and it constitutes a challenging argument to others. So what we can not do is treat the motivations for the OTF as legitimizing it against religions generally, since the observations motivating the OTF are in no way an argument against certain religions. To pretend otherwise is to do nothing more than pomo an important, but narrow, point.
And so we come to the reason why I did not attempt to formalize the OTF much earlier: it simply isn't a probabilistic inference; it is a demand about priors. I think this is why Loftus has yet to put an argument about probabilities in terms of formal probabilities, as far as I can find. This is not a case of updating a prior set of rational beliefs to a new probability by reasoned argument. Instead, it is an attempt to force a reworking of priors based on evidence.2 Again, I do not see why Christians need to accept this; intellectual consistency only requires that they account for Div and Dep by calculating their effects on their beliefs through conditioning.
Here we depart from the most accepted form of Bayesianism, i.e. subjective Bayesianism, entirely. We are encountering a curious version of objective Bayesianism. `Normal' objective Bayesians calculate `informationless' priors by equivocating across possibilities. What Loftus appears to want, as I noted in my previous posts, is that we gauge p(C) in something like the following way:
a. p(C)=1/N where N is the number of possible, mutually contradictory religions.
b. p(C)=1/N where N is the number of mutually contradictory religions in human history.
c. p(C)=1/N where N is the number of existing, mutually contradictory religions.
[Each of the above has an analogue where `religions' is replaced by `Christian sects'.]
d. p(C)=x where x is the frequency of the occurrence of Christians with respect to the general population. (Of the country, or world, or something.)
e. p(C)=A/B where B is the number of rational people and A is the number of rational people who are Christians.
And so on. Before moving on, the first response our Christian might deploy to any combination of the above is a simple one: No.
He is presumed to be rational and he can account for (1)/(2) in the usual way. Sorry to wax tautological, but he simply cannot be convicted of irrationality or unreasonableness whenever he is being both rational and reasonable, as judged by standard philosophical criteria. To go further with this, Loftus will have to mount a convincing attack on Bayesianism itself.
And of course we run into the earlier problem yet again; the argument Loftus presents cannot be probabilized. None of the above statements follows, or can follow, deductively or probabilistically, from (1)/(2).
I could continue on about the other problems, especially as they pertain to Loftus' desire to demand priors about religion but not about secular claims, or that this approach would most likely result in a weaker case against Christianity than the traditional arguments, but I've said this already, and Thrasymachus has done a better job explicating it. I could repeat why `skepticism' is not a sort of default, and that positive claims will be necessary to argue against Christianity. (Otherwise, it's the fallacy of probabilistic Modus Tollens all the way down.) Or, I could reiterate some of Reppert's objections; for example, (1) and (2) are not so undeniably true as Loftus suggests, and Christians may account for differing religions using faith-based claims. The Pharaoh's magicians did not perform wonders so great as Aaron's, but they still made a snake out of a staff. Also, demons and sinful nature.
I pause. Is the argument really this straightforwardly awful? How does Loftus defend it?
One...option for the Christian might be to argue that I have not shown there is a direct causal relationship between RDPT (i.e. the Religious Dependency Thesis) (or 1) and the RDVT (i.e., the Religious Diversity Thesis) (or 2). Just because there is religious diversity doesn’t mean that religious views are overwhelmingly dependent on social and geographical factors, they might argue. Reminiscent of David Hume, who argued that we do not see cause and effect, they might try to argue I have not shown it exists between the RDPT and the RDVT. After all, if Hume can say he never sees one billiard ball “causing” another one to move just because they do so after making contact, then maybe there is no direct causal relationship between the RDPT and the RDVT. Is it possible, they might ask, that just because people have different religious faiths which are separated into distinct geographical locations on our planet, that “when and where” people are born has little to do with what they believe? My answer is that if this is possible, it is an exceedingly small possibility. Do Christians really want to hang their faith on such a slender reed as this? I’ve shown from sociological, geographical and psychological studies that what we believe is strongly influenced by “the accidents of history.” That’s all anyone can ask me to show.Actually, we can ask for a valid argument. This is simply a genetic fallacy. The deductive genetic fallacy remains a fallacy, even if you argue for odds instead of certainties.
What else can I say? Nothing about this argument works, nor could it conceivably be reworked to capture what Loftus wants. There's a reason for this: it isn't actually an argument. It is a symptom of Loftus' assumption that he objectively and most accurately views the world in a culture-transcendent way.
I might have spoken too soon: if a Christian happens to trust Loftus more than God, there may be an opening for the OTF.
One last quibble to anticipate an objection: Loftus may claim that he is not addressing Calvinists, only evangelical Christians. That doesn't change the fact that his argument is not even an argument of that form. For this discrepancy to matter, he must restate his argument so as to account for variations in prior probability and variations in the Bayes factor specific to the religion in which he is interested. That is, he must pursue normal argumentation.
If he does so, I'll be more than happy.
1. It has to be this way, as we are interested in whether or not warrant for religion can be retained, not just how a skeptic feels about religion.
2. This is much weirder than anything attempted by normal objective Bayesians. I do not know of any accepted precedent for an approach like this.
Edit 8/8/11: I've been having a blast with acronyms lately. Please plagiarize the hell out of this excerpt from a comment at Reppert's place:
I should mention that I've seen John's post that he's on a blogging break, so I do not expect any response soon.
To be honest, I don't expect a serious response. Here's what he said to Thrasymachus' post back in January:
"I see nothing here I need to respond to."
Oh, my argument is invalid, cannot be reworked to convincingly get what I want out of it, and my approach in general is a failure. Where's the problem?
Staggering. And this is followed by another unhesitant shift:
"You can insert the word “skeptical” for “outsider” if you wish. And being skeptical means doubting or rejecting anything that the sciences say otherwise."
And we return to the uniqueness problems and question-begging again...
So I'll have fun at his expense until he or others get back to me with a real argument. A satisfactory response will do the following things:
1. Restatement: the precise structure and intended conclusion(s) of the OTF must be clearly stated, along with any contested background assumptions.
2. Support: The structure and conclusions of the argument must be corroborated. Is it deductive? If so, state exactly where and why. Is it a probabilistic argument? Then capture the argument using the formal tools of probabilism and defend it. Is it an argument about prior distributions? Then state clearly why it is that a coherent agent must adopt, prior to evidence, a specific distribution based on an observation which can already accounted for by a religious person or may be calibrated in a traditional, probabilistic manner (conditionalization).
3. Comprehensiveness: Clearly state outstanding objections and why they fail or are otherwise innocuous.
I call it the Simple Test For Understanding, or STFU, because proponents of the OTF should STFU already or move on.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Belief/Lack of Belief
While thinking about that hoary topic again, I have decided to write a post on the `belief/lack of belief' distinction which is the subject of so much fire in the skeptical and atheist communities.
I opine that atheism is, properly speaking, best described as a belief in nearly all circumstances where it occurs. I am familiar with the objections to this, which are most eloquently and illustratively summarized by the following video:
The goal of describing oneself as an atheist is presumably to give an accurate impression of ones stances. Since the term `atheist' has been used as a curse word - and really originated as such - and false equivalences are so prevalent, I always assume that I will have to clearly explain my stance in detail. For this reason, the distinction between lack of belief and belief, up to the aforementioned goal, is next to useless.
This is why, though I usually disagree with those who insist on the `belief/lack of belief' distinction, I nevertheless agree that it is understandable to make that distinction and insist upon it. If you are an atheist and have ever engaged in any argumentation, I would be surprised if you had not encountered false equivalences like those described in the video. Believers, by using `atheism' in a way syntactically similar to `religion', attempt to draw false equivalences. But I do not think that making the `belief/lack of belief' distinction will help to avoid the boring process of correction. We have to do this anyways.
Whether or not `lack of belief' is better than `belief' depends especially on one crucial fact: the definition or idea of gods in play. This semantic dependency is not obviated by insisting on the `atheism=a lack of belief in gods' equation; rather, `atheism' always carries with it this problem. So why do we identify as atheists at all?
The answer is very simple, and it hinges on how words are normally, conventionally employed. We are atheists with respect to gods as usually defined and as normally present in religion. To call ourselves atheists is to feel that this usage sense has some use, even if we have learned the ready lesson that one must always in advance insist on a relatively precise definition when arguing about gods.
Think about it in an indirect sense: is it really the case that we have no opinions concerning even hitherto undefined gods? Do we for example make statements about the nature of god-belief? Try asserting the following at the same time:
1. The gods of religions exist only in the minds of believers.
2. Some god exists.
Even if a non-descript god is presented for which there is no evidence either way, it is not as though we therefore lack any opinion. We have notions of parsimony - `Occam's razor' - and other intellectual tools that very much apply to such hypothetical entities. We do not think that they are as likely to exist as not, or any other such thing. To see where you stand on such gods, play along with a little thought experiment of mine.
Suppose I have a magic box - do not question the physics of the magic box - that can tell us with 100% accuracy whether or not an otherwise strictly non-predictive entity exists. If that entity exists, the box will output `yes' when you press the button. If not, it will output `no' when you press the button. How much are you willing to stake, in dollars or whatever else you value, that the box outputs `yes'? If you are anything like me, you would stake a considerable amount on `no'. The point is not that we lack a magic box; the point is that this experiment can reveal to us how confident we are about the existence or non-existence of deities which are incapable of being evidenced. Had we such a box, I would be happy to take $1000 off of anyone unwise enough to bet that sum on a `yes' answer. Would you?
I make a similar point in the context of the OTF. `Skepticism', or `atheism', are not free-tickets to being the `default' position. I add, and emphatically, that noise about the `burden of proof' is completely pointless. There are arguments. Talk about them. Once you get a theistic counterpart to carefully present what he or she believes, you should not have any trouble finding the right place to continue. The case is not, as Qualiasoup suggests, that atheism is the natural `default'. Rather, the `default' is whatever the person in the discussion believes at that moment. If anything, they will usually be supernaturalists. There is no one `default'. There is no hypothetical beginning of the discussion at which an absolute burden of proof is in play. This is pure distraction.
I am not thinking how Qualiasoup says that people like me are thinking. I am a probabilist, after all. I am also of the opinion that the `believe/believe that not' distinction is unnecessary in light of probabilism. It's all about whether or not any confidence is assigned to a proposition, and if so, how much. To me, `belief' as normally employed is a secondary, unnecessary term. But I still use it whenever I am talking to people who are not probabilists. So `belief' still has utility, as does `atheist', but as far as I can tell, it only has utility when it is used approximately how I use it.
Now, "I lack belief in your god" and "I believe that your god does not exist" are not contradictory statements. Which is more appropriate may depend on the specifics of the situation, especially whether or not a coherent, understandable concept of god is present. But that is not the point, because this applies to using `atheist' in any sense of the term.
If you want to engage in the arguments, do so. But the common purpose of atheists in insisting on the `lack of belief' label as a means to justify being in a `default' is deeply suspect, and furthermore, it is pointless. You are after all engaging in the arguments anyways. You are not a dictionary entry. Act like it.
This is all very straightforward.
Step 1: You have to ask for a definition.
Step 2: Evaluate that definition.
Is it contradictory? Then you can be a certain atheist. Is it incoherent or nonsensical? Then you can say why the definition is inadequate. Is it capable of being evidenced, but fails to have convincing evidence? That is a claim about the state of the evidence; defend it. Is it coherent and consistent, but incapable of being evidenced? Then demonstrate that this is the case, and if you maintain non-belief, explicate the principles of reasoning that justify your doing so. Whatever you need should be clear in the context of discussion, up to and including any subtleties in definition that are useful.
And whatever you do, do not make a gigantic big deal out of this.
Edit: And there are good reasons to not feel strongly about your self-labelings.
I opine that atheism is, properly speaking, best described as a belief in nearly all circumstances where it occurs. I am familiar with the objections to this, which are most eloquently and illustratively summarized by the following video:
The goal of describing oneself as an atheist is presumably to give an accurate impression of ones stances. Since the term `atheist' has been used as a curse word - and really originated as such - and false equivalences are so prevalent, I always assume that I will have to clearly explain my stance in detail. For this reason, the distinction between lack of belief and belief, up to the aforementioned goal, is next to useless.
This is why, though I usually disagree with those who insist on the `belief/lack of belief' distinction, I nevertheless agree that it is understandable to make that distinction and insist upon it. If you are an atheist and have ever engaged in any argumentation, I would be surprised if you had not encountered false equivalences like those described in the video. Believers, by using `atheism' in a way syntactically similar to `religion', attempt to draw false equivalences. But I do not think that making the `belief/lack of belief' distinction will help to avoid the boring process of correction. We have to do this anyways.
Whether or not `lack of belief' is better than `belief' depends especially on one crucial fact: the definition or idea of gods in play. This semantic dependency is not obviated by insisting on the `atheism=a lack of belief in gods' equation; rather, `atheism' always carries with it this problem. So why do we identify as atheists at all?
The answer is very simple, and it hinges on how words are normally, conventionally employed. We are atheists with respect to gods as usually defined and as normally present in religion. To call ourselves atheists is to feel that this usage sense has some use, even if we have learned the ready lesson that one must always in advance insist on a relatively precise definition when arguing about gods.
Think about it in an indirect sense: is it really the case that we have no opinions concerning even hitherto undefined gods? Do we for example make statements about the nature of god-belief? Try asserting the following at the same time:
1. The gods of religions exist only in the minds of believers.
2. Some god exists.
Even if a non-descript god is presented for which there is no evidence either way, it is not as though we therefore lack any opinion. We have notions of parsimony - `Occam's razor' - and other intellectual tools that very much apply to such hypothetical entities. We do not think that they are as likely to exist as not, or any other such thing. To see where you stand on such gods, play along with a little thought experiment of mine.
Suppose I have a magic box - do not question the physics of the magic box - that can tell us with 100% accuracy whether or not an otherwise strictly non-predictive entity exists. If that entity exists, the box will output `yes' when you press the button. If not, it will output `no' when you press the button. How much are you willing to stake, in dollars or whatever else you value, that the box outputs `yes'? If you are anything like me, you would stake a considerable amount on `no'. The point is not that we lack a magic box; the point is that this experiment can reveal to us how confident we are about the existence or non-existence of deities which are incapable of being evidenced. Had we such a box, I would be happy to take $1000 off of anyone unwise enough to bet that sum on a `yes' answer. Would you?
I make a similar point in the context of the OTF. `Skepticism', or `atheism', are not free-tickets to being the `default' position. I add, and emphatically, that noise about the `burden of proof' is completely pointless. There are arguments. Talk about them. Once you get a theistic counterpart to carefully present what he or she believes, you should not have any trouble finding the right place to continue. The case is not, as Qualiasoup suggests, that atheism is the natural `default'. Rather, the `default' is whatever the person in the discussion believes at that moment. If anything, they will usually be supernaturalists. There is no one `default'. There is no hypothetical beginning of the discussion at which an absolute burden of proof is in play. This is pure distraction.
I am not thinking how Qualiasoup says that people like me are thinking. I am a probabilist, after all. I am also of the opinion that the `believe/believe that not' distinction is unnecessary in light of probabilism. It's all about whether or not any confidence is assigned to a proposition, and if so, how much. To me, `belief' as normally employed is a secondary, unnecessary term. But I still use it whenever I am talking to people who are not probabilists. So `belief' still has utility, as does `atheist', but as far as I can tell, it only has utility when it is used approximately how I use it.
Now, "I lack belief in your god" and "I believe that your god does not exist" are not contradictory statements. Which is more appropriate may depend on the specifics of the situation, especially whether or not a coherent, understandable concept of god is present. But that is not the point, because this applies to using `atheist' in any sense of the term.
If you want to engage in the arguments, do so. But the common purpose of atheists in insisting on the `lack of belief' label as a means to justify being in a `default' is deeply suspect, and furthermore, it is pointless. You are after all engaging in the arguments anyways. You are not a dictionary entry. Act like it.
This is all very straightforward.
Step 1: You have to ask for a definition.
Step 2: Evaluate that definition.
Is it contradictory? Then you can be a certain atheist. Is it incoherent or nonsensical? Then you can say why the definition is inadequate. Is it capable of being evidenced, but fails to have convincing evidence? That is a claim about the state of the evidence; defend it. Is it coherent and consistent, but incapable of being evidenced? Then demonstrate that this is the case, and if you maintain non-belief, explicate the principles of reasoning that justify your doing so. Whatever you need should be clear in the context of discussion, up to and including any subtleties in definition that are useful.
And whatever you do, do not make a gigantic big deal out of this.
Edit: And there are good reasons to not feel strongly about your self-labelings.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Secular morality and metaphysics
Over at Dangerous Idea, Victor Reppert asks how secular ethics must relate to a metaphysic, suggesting the following: "Even if a personal God isn't required for ethics, doesn't it seem plausible that at the very least some sort of metaphysics is required that most naturalists today would have a hard time accepting."
If I catch Reppert's sentiment correctly, he appears to accept - or at least allow - what atheists call `the autonomy of ethics'.1 (David O. Brink has an essay of that name in The Cambridge Companion to Atheism, ed. Michael Martin.) What he is asking is a little broader: what (uncomfortable) metaphysical commitments must naturalists/secularists make in formulating a satisfactory account?
In a trivial sense, some sort of metaphysical statement must be made whenever giving a descriptive account of ethics. But I do not think that secular thinkers find or need find such statements to be problematic. Ethical naturalism, for example, may be defined in the broadest sense as figuring out what we want in fact, and then how to get it in fact. To me, questions of the former type are, strictly speaking, subjective, even if many opinions are widely held. The latter type, the `goal-oriented' question, is often capable of uncontroversial, empirical answers.
For example:
1. I want people to live satisfying, intellectually fulfilled lives.
2. Poverty and constraints on liberty prevent the actualization of (1).
3. I should therefore work against poverty and tyranny given (1).
There are of course objections to this sort of ethical naturalism; I think that it is woefully incomplete. But it is a good start, and I see no difficult metaphysical entanglements in proposing such reasoning.
I have a more or less Humean stance on the nature of morality; I think it is rooted in sentiment. But is it not true that abstract notions - principles - appear to affect our moral thinking? I think so, but I do not think that this presents any fatal difficulty. This is because we are capable of sentimental attachment to principles. This is why I, while I would be considered a non-realist in many important respects, am nevertheless a moral universalist, in the sense that I think we can discover approximating categorical statements which usually capture our desires and interests and provide something I think we all should want: a clear basis for law, moral argumentation, and the communicating of judgments. So while "it is not contrary to reason to prefer the destruction of the world to the scratching of my finger", I am still a big proponent of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. (Were you to ask me why I think it is that we can find approximating principles, I would start to babble about evolution and culture and other things.)
But this can only ever be an approximation: there are psychopaths, after all. So why do we get to imprison them? Because we can, based on stuff we want. (For the Aristotelians, I include widely-accepted `virtues' in that category.) I understand that this may feel deeply unsatisfactory, but I do not think that `wrong actions' are in the same category as `wrong statements'. Is it unreasonable for us to imprison the psychopath? In the sense that the root of our action is not in reason, yes, but it's equally unreasonable to not imprison him. The decision is ultimately sentimental and may even be crudely emotive at the fundamental level.
I am not and cannot be a Kantian. I think that the much-touted categorical imperative is vacuous and that trying to deny the circumstantial nature of moral judgments is flatly absurd. I am not a utilitarian: though a rough idea of `general happiness' is part of our moral thinking, I do not think that all the various virtues and desires are subsumed by a one-dimensional measure. I think most people would have a problem with organ lotteries.
I think that people want a different account because they want to still their uneasy consciences about tossing others in prison. They want to be as certain of their moral judgments and prejudices as they are of facts like gravity. They want to be correct, not merely right, about the objects of their strongest passions. In practice, there is little difference, except that those who feel self-righteous tend to be crueler.
But passion is passion, which is not a truth-finding mechanism. I prefer to take a more authentically scientific attitude to morality, which is piecemeal and allows for goal-indifference. Like the `piecemeal social engineering' advocated by Popper in The Open Society and Its Enemies, I want to ask questions like the following: "how do we arrange our institutions so as to prevent murder, supposing we should want to prevent it or not?" Properly considered, the moral demands of the skeptical ethicist are more stringent than those of the metaphysical ethicist. The former is forced to discover more and to think of morality feature of her surroundings as created by herself, and in application she will probably need to take far courageous stands and make great sacrifices to fulfill her desires. As Russell commented in his Sceptical Essays, utilitarians, in contrast to traditional moralists, must live a far more onerous life. I think that this counter-intuitive fact holds for active moral thinkers generally, even that of we skeptical types.
So that, roughly, is what I take to be a roughly correct, if overly broad-brushed, picture of morality, which is a mixture of moral skepticism, Humean considerations, and pragmatism. Nothing about this says anything about `grounding' any particular value or norm. This project is unnecessary and possibly even misguided.
What I'm not saying: I'm not a moral nihilist. We make moral distinctions, but they are sentimental (See Hume). I'm not a psychological egoist (see Hume again). I think that normal people are altruistic in some degree, although `self-interest' is a big part of our makeup. Norms and values are not `arbitrary'. Norms are like satisfactory definitions: they capture widespread intuitions and ideas; values are not switches which we flick on and off in our heads.
For pragmatic reasons, I speak in ordinary moral language. I quite regularly say things like "...so we should...", and I often refer to abstract concepts like `human flourishing' or even `purpose'. But when saying such things, it is important to remember their nature. I may say that humans should read philosophy in order to flourish intellectually - where intellectual flourishing is desirable - but I do not think that this statement is `true' in any normal sense of the term. It is not a fact about the universe or a fact about the mind of God. Rather, it is a sentiment-ridden assertion made by a natural being, and those who cannot empathize with my sentiments may think it curious, or white noise, and would not risk failing to understand some truth about the universe in ignoring it.
I think I'm in the minority with respect to the philosophical community on these stances, but that appears to apply to everyone. Apart from the linked SEP articles (and some of the citations in those articles), those interested may want to follow Russell Blackford, or more famously, Simon Blackburn. The papers on Blackburn's site are excellent starters; Hume's Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals is a quick, enjoyable read; Blackford's monstrous review of Harris' Moral Landscape is a good example of moral skepticism in practice. (I haven't read The Moral Landscape, but from this and other reviews, I can't pretend that I'm interested.)
1. This is supported in the comments:
Edit 1 (7/27/2011): I altered some of the wording, but not, I think, in a way that affects the message.
If I catch Reppert's sentiment correctly, he appears to accept - or at least allow - what atheists call `the autonomy of ethics'.1 (David O. Brink has an essay of that name in The Cambridge Companion to Atheism, ed. Michael Martin.) What he is asking is a little broader: what (uncomfortable) metaphysical commitments must naturalists/secularists make in formulating a satisfactory account?
In a trivial sense, some sort of metaphysical statement must be made whenever giving a descriptive account of ethics. But I do not think that secular thinkers find or need find such statements to be problematic. Ethical naturalism, for example, may be defined in the broadest sense as figuring out what we want in fact, and then how to get it in fact. To me, questions of the former type are, strictly speaking, subjective, even if many opinions are widely held. The latter type, the `goal-oriented' question, is often capable of uncontroversial, empirical answers.
For example:
1. I want people to live satisfying, intellectually fulfilled lives.
2. Poverty and constraints on liberty prevent the actualization of (1).
3. I should therefore work against poverty and tyranny given (1).
There are of course objections to this sort of ethical naturalism; I think that it is woefully incomplete. But it is a good start, and I see no difficult metaphysical entanglements in proposing such reasoning.
I have a more or less Humean stance on the nature of morality; I think it is rooted in sentiment. But is it not true that abstract notions - principles - appear to affect our moral thinking? I think so, but I do not think that this presents any fatal difficulty. This is because we are capable of sentimental attachment to principles. This is why I, while I would be considered a non-realist in many important respects, am nevertheless a moral universalist, in the sense that I think we can discover approximating categorical statements which usually capture our desires and interests and provide something I think we all should want: a clear basis for law, moral argumentation, and the communicating of judgments. So while "it is not contrary to reason to prefer the destruction of the world to the scratching of my finger", I am still a big proponent of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. (Were you to ask me why I think it is that we can find approximating principles, I would start to babble about evolution and culture and other things.)
But this can only ever be an approximation: there are psychopaths, after all. So why do we get to imprison them? Because we can, based on stuff we want. (For the Aristotelians, I include widely-accepted `virtues' in that category.) I understand that this may feel deeply unsatisfactory, but I do not think that `wrong actions' are in the same category as `wrong statements'. Is it unreasonable for us to imprison the psychopath? In the sense that the root of our action is not in reason, yes, but it's equally unreasonable to not imprison him. The decision is ultimately sentimental and may even be crudely emotive at the fundamental level.
I am not and cannot be a Kantian. I think that the much-touted categorical imperative is vacuous and that trying to deny the circumstantial nature of moral judgments is flatly absurd. I am not a utilitarian: though a rough idea of `general happiness' is part of our moral thinking, I do not think that all the various virtues and desires are subsumed by a one-dimensional measure. I think most people would have a problem with organ lotteries.
I think that people want a different account because they want to still their uneasy consciences about tossing others in prison. They want to be as certain of their moral judgments and prejudices as they are of facts like gravity. They want to be correct, not merely right, about the objects of their strongest passions. In practice, there is little difference, except that those who feel self-righteous tend to be crueler.
But passion is passion, which is not a truth-finding mechanism. I prefer to take a more authentically scientific attitude to morality, which is piecemeal and allows for goal-indifference. Like the `piecemeal social engineering' advocated by Popper in The Open Society and Its Enemies, I want to ask questions like the following: "how do we arrange our institutions so as to prevent murder, supposing we should want to prevent it or not?" Properly considered, the moral demands of the skeptical ethicist are more stringent than those of the metaphysical ethicist. The former is forced to discover more and to think of morality feature of her surroundings as created by herself, and in application she will probably need to take far courageous stands and make great sacrifices to fulfill her desires. As Russell commented in his Sceptical Essays, utilitarians, in contrast to traditional moralists, must live a far more onerous life. I think that this counter-intuitive fact holds for active moral thinkers generally, even that of we skeptical types.
So that, roughly, is what I take to be a roughly correct, if overly broad-brushed, picture of morality, which is a mixture of moral skepticism, Humean considerations, and pragmatism. Nothing about this says anything about `grounding' any particular value or norm. This project is unnecessary and possibly even misguided.
What I'm not saying: I'm not a moral nihilist. We make moral distinctions, but they are sentimental (See Hume). I'm not a psychological egoist (see Hume again). I think that normal people are altruistic in some degree, although `self-interest' is a big part of our makeup. Norms and values are not `arbitrary'. Norms are like satisfactory definitions: they capture widespread intuitions and ideas; values are not switches which we flick on and off in our heads.
For pragmatic reasons, I speak in ordinary moral language. I quite regularly say things like "...so we should...", and I often refer to abstract concepts like `human flourishing' or even `purpose'. But when saying such things, it is important to remember their nature. I may say that humans should read philosophy in order to flourish intellectually - where intellectual flourishing is desirable - but I do not think that this statement is `true' in any normal sense of the term. It is not a fact about the universe or a fact about the mind of God. Rather, it is a sentiment-ridden assertion made by a natural being, and those who cannot empathize with my sentiments may think it curious, or white noise, and would not risk failing to understand some truth about the universe in ignoring it.
I think I'm in the minority with respect to the philosophical community on these stances, but that appears to apply to everyone. Apart from the linked SEP articles (and some of the citations in those articles), those interested may want to follow Russell Blackford, or more famously, Simon Blackburn. The papers on Blackburn's site are excellent starters; Hume's Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals is a quick, enjoyable read; Blackford's monstrous review of Harris' Moral Landscape is a good example of moral skepticism in practice. (I haven't read The Moral Landscape, but from this and other reviews, I can't pretend that I'm interested.)
1. This is supported in the comments:
Look, I made a very specific claim. I maintained that the modern secularist typically does not only reject theistic morality, but also rejects morality based on transcendent forms that we can know, and an inherent purpose for human existence. So what I had in mind was leaving theism out of it and trying to see that there have to be some "metaphysical" commitments made in order to have anything that looks like an adequate moral theory. For the purposes of this discussion it would be better if everyone forgot about the fact that I happen to be a Christian theist and addressed the problem I actually posed.
Edit 1 (7/27/2011): I altered some of the wording, but not, I think, in a way that affects the message.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
The Outsider Test for Faith
I've entered the fray (jparris8) over at Debunking Christianity, and as those familiar with John Loftus and the blog know, there is no avoiding discussion of `The Outsider Test for Faith' (OTF). I had heard of this before while watching the threads at Victor Reppert's blog, and as I will inevitably have to discuss it again and again, I will save myself and others misery by collecting my thoughts on the OTF in this post.
I will begin by discussing what Loftus describes as the most comprehensive explanation of the OTF on the web.
But I have a nagging feeling that Loftus wants to do more with the OTF than the above generalization suggests, just as he obviously wants it to be more than a handy thought experiment.
What might this be? In comments and posts, Loftus is ever touting this:
I suspect I'm not going to get anywhere on the is/ought gap today. And I see I'm not going to get anywhere on the `X is warranted/X is binding on all reasonable people' gap, either. Oh well, I can do other things:
A believer who failed the outsider test would conclude, and need only conclude, that skeptics of her faith can be reasonable. It would not entail that her beliefs are unwarranted and incapable of reasonable commitment. At all. And I'm not sure what the point of the OTF is if not that.
I now move on to some other objections. As far as I can tell, none of his responses to potential objections substantively address of mine, but he does say interesting things in his response to one objection:
First big problem: the demand is impossible if you believe that the number of possible religions and/or gods is uncountably infinite. No non-zero probability of each particular god/religion is possible if that number is (countably) infinite.
Second big problem: the initial facts Loftus describes may not be neutral with respect to some initial distribution. The fact that a religion has died out can affect its probability. The fact that Christianity is `a religion amongst others' does not entail that there are no important qualitative differences between Christianity and other religions which could lead someone to reasonably assign it a quite significant prior: we lack coherent descriptions of large numbers of extinct religions or sufficient detail to distinguish them from others apart from relabeling of terms. Of extant religions, many lack coherent, unified systematic treatments like that presented by Christian philosophers who have spent centuries dealing with rational argument.
Third big problem: if the initial confidence in a religion is to be determined by the fact that there are many other religions, and we should equivocate across them, we make very big commitments to features shared by most or all of the important contenders. In particular, the OTF would have us practically assume supernaturalism and some supernatural cosmogony, though any particular version may be initially implausible. I don't think Loftus should be so eager to demand the starting point he does. I think he's sneaking in the assumption that materialistic alternatives dominate this space. If that's the case, we are more than past the importance of the number of alternatives. Unless he's asking us to assume supernaturalism, this sure does look, smell, and taste like an unjust demand that believers assume naturalism.
I could say more. Lots more. (Must personal, subjective background experience count for nothing?) But I really don't see the point, since Loftus never presents a sound, valid argument. Since the conclusion of his argument is that supernaturalism should be part of the outside position, I suppose I can be happy about that.
There is a way of preserving the legitimate core of the OTF without lapsing into absurdities and unreasonable dictations. It's called normal argument. Inconsistent treatments of evidence by believers, where important, will show up there. I do not see how the OTF does anything more than to prolong outstanding confusions. I would even say that it does more harm than good to the rational faculties of those who are introduced to it.
Bonus fun-time exercise: What would Calvin say about all this?
Edit 7/25/11: I cleaned up some of the sentences, added a few phrases, and added the last paragraph. I also want to add another observation:
If we should set our prior odds on Christianity to match those of our being Christians - as calibrated by sociological data - we get a very bad result for skeptics of Christianity. What, for example, should be our prior odds on the Resurrection before arguing over the evidence? Normally, and I think correctly, we calibrate this with respect to the well-documented tendency of dead people to remain dead. But what happens if we set our prior odds to the frequency of belief in the Resurrection? Since Christians argue that the Resurrection was an exceptional event, the fact that we normally observe dead people remaining dead would do nothing to reduce these odds before engaging the texts. If we take as a low estimate that Resurrection-believers account for 10% of the population, then our prior odds on the Resurrection will be absurdly high. I think that Christians can very easily overcome such a prior improbability with even a skeptical account of the New Testament. Yes, I think that Christians can easily pass the OTF as presented, at least with respect to the Resurrection.
I will begin by discussing what Loftus describes as the most comprehensive explanation of the OTF on the web.
The question I’ll be addressing today is whether we should adopt a believing or a skeptical predisposition prior to examining the evidence for a religious set of beliefs. I’ll argue that a skeptical predisposition is the preferred one to adopt.He did say `prior', so I have to say something Bayesian: one can leave aside entirely the question of prior absolute probabilities and focus on a cumulative Bayes factor, i.e. the number by which your old odds ratio on Christianity is multiplied to yield your new odds ratio on Christianity. Granted, this is a very big task, but once done, you can say what initial commitment to Christianity would be required to have confirmed it as `more likely true than not' or to whatever value you feel significant. That analysis would necessarily include evidence concerning contradictory religious beliefs.
But I have a nagging feeling that Loftus wants to do more with the OTF than the above generalization suggests, just as he obviously wants it to be more than a handy thought experiment.
There is overwhelming, undeniable and non-controversial evidence for the test itself that can be found in the sociological, anthropological, and psychological data. I’ll start with some of this data that forms the basis for the test.Here I have an issue: he is claiming `undeniable' evidence for a norm. As good is/ought distinguishing Humeans, we should be looking out for the goals or desiderata - presumably themselves uncontroversial and undeniable to theists - by which this evidence translates into support for the OTF.
What might this be? In comments and posts, Loftus is ever touting this:
The basis for the outsider test has been stated adequately by liberal Christian philosopher John Hick: “It is evident that in some ninety-nine percent of the cases the religion which an individual professes and to which he or she adheres depends upon the accidents of birth.” That is to say, if we were born in Saudi Arabia, we would be Sunni Muslims right now. If we were born in Iran, we’d be Shi’a Muslims. If we were born in India, we’d be a Hindus. If we were born in Japan, we’d be Shintoists. If we were born in Mongolia, we’d be Buddhists. If we were born in the first century BCE in Israel, we’d adhere to the Jewish faith at that time, and if we were born in Europe in 1000 CE, we’d be Roman Catholics. For the first nine hundred years we would’ve believed in the ransom theory of Jesus’ atonement. As Christians during the later Middle Ages, we wouldn’t have seen anything wrong with killing witches, torturing heretics, and conquering Jerusalem from the “infidels” in the Crusades. These things are as close to being undeniable facts as we can get in the sociological world.Ok, this is all fine and well (call it and other details the fact of context-dependence): but why does this imply the OTF? I suppose it will have to wait:
Michael Shermer, a former Christian turned atheist, has done an extensive study of why people believe in God and in “weird things.” He argues: “Most of us most of the time come to our beliefs for a variety of reasons having little to do with empirical evidence and logical reasoning. Rather, such variables as genetic predispositions, parental predilections, sibling influences, peer pressures, educational experiences, and life impressions all shape the personality preferences and emotional inclinations that, in conjunction with numerous social and cultural influences, lead us to make certain belief choices. Rarely do any of us sit down before a table of facts, weigh them pro and con, and choose the most logical and rational belief, regardless of what we previously believed. Instead, the facts of the world come to us through the colored filters of the theories, hypotheses, hunches, biases, and prejudices we have accumulated through our lifetime. We then sort through the body of data and select those most confirming what we already believe, and ignore or rationalize away those that are disconfirming. All of us do this, of course, but smart people are better at it.”Ok, so there are reductive accounts of religious tendencies. Ok, why does this imply the OTF? Damn, I still have to wait:
This whole inside/outside perspective is quite a dilemma and prompts me to propose and argue on behalf of the OTF, the result of which makes the presumption of skepticism the preferred stance when approaching any religious faith, especially one’s own. The outsider test is simply a challenge to test one’s own religious faith with the presumption of skepticism, as an outsider. It calls upon believers to "Test or examine your religious beliefs as if you were outsiders with the same presumption of skepticism you use to test or examine other religious beliefs." Its presumption is that when examining any set of religious beliefs skepticism is warranted, since the odds are good that the particular set of religious beliefs you have adopted is wrong.Ok, now tell me: why do the apparent cultural dependency of religion and the at least partial success of reductive accounts in explaining common tendencies in religion suggest the OTF?
The OTF is no different than the prince in the Cinderella story who must question forty-five thousand girls to see which one lost the glass slipper at the ball last night. They all claim to have done so. Therefore, skepticism is definitely warranted. This is especially the case when an empirical foot match cannot be had.Ok, warranted. Not a big deal, what's important is the demand that theists apply the OTF.
The amount of skepticism warranted depends on the number of rational people who disagree, whether the people who disagree are separated into distinct geographical locations, the nature of those beliefs, how they originated, how they were personally adopted in the first place, and the kinds of evidence that can possibly be used to decide between them. My claim is that when it comes to religious beliefs a high degree of skepticism is warranted because of these factors.These can be factors, but they are not decisive. Anyways, TELL ME ALREADY.
If she refuses to [apply the OTF] then she must justify having such a double standard. Why does she test other religious beliefs differently than her own? For someone to object that what I’m asking is unfair, she has the burden of proof to show why her inconsistent approach to religious faith is justified in the first place.Pardon me, but assessing `other beliefs' as `outsiders' and our own as `insiders' applies to everyone. About anything. Forget religion. That's not `double standards', that's the necessary product of having beliefs. A `double standard' with respect to the evidence and argument, if it should emerge, should emerge in the normal way... in the course of normal argument. The OTF adds nothing to this.
I suspect I'm not going to get anywhere on the is/ought gap today. And I see I'm not going to get anywhere on the `X is warranted/X is binding on all reasonable people' gap, either. Oh well, I can do other things:
Nonetheless, if after having investigated your religious faith with the presumption of skepticism it passes intellectual muster, then you can have your religious faith. It’s that simple. If not, abandon it like I did. I suspect that if someone is willing to take the challenge of the outsider test, then her religious faith will be found defective and she will abandon it along with all other religious faiths, like it has me.See, I'm not sure that a positive or negative result for the OTF translates into any probability threshold, and by that virtue it need not translate into any final stance on one's beliefs. This ignores completely the problem of the priors. It ignores completely the incompleteness of evidential calibration that we have. It assumes from the outset that believers should adopt for-the-sake-of-examination probabilities about skeptical alternatives - yes, positive claims - and apply them to religious claims, alternatives which are presumably non-binding to adopt in the first place. Else, why insist on the OTF? The OTF would merely be restating an undeniable state of the evidence, not a norm mysteriously implied by the existence of other religions. So then what happens when believers adopt their former commitments, something which is apparently not intrinsically unreasonable to do?
A believer who failed the outsider test would conclude, and need only conclude, that skeptics of her faith can be reasonable. It would not entail that her beliefs are unwarranted and incapable of reasonable commitment. At all. And I'm not sure what the point of the OTF is if not that.
I now move on to some other objections. As far as I can tell, none of his responses to potential objections substantively address of mine, but he does say interesting things in his response to one objection:
After all, someone can be right if for no other reason than that she just got lucky to be born when and where she did. But how do you rationally justify such luck? This is why I’ve developed the challenge of the outsider test in the first place, to test religious faiths against such luck.Here, Loftus is definitely saying something about prior distributions. Namely, that believers must equivocate across contradictory religions in assigning prior probabilities, or that they should match the likelihood of the truth of their religion to the `chance' of their believing it.
First big problem: the demand is impossible if you believe that the number of possible religions and/or gods is uncountably infinite. No non-zero probability of each particular god/religion is possible if that number is (countably) infinite.
Second big problem: the initial facts Loftus describes may not be neutral with respect to some initial distribution. The fact that a religion has died out can affect its probability. The fact that Christianity is `a religion amongst others' does not entail that there are no important qualitative differences between Christianity and other religions which could lead someone to reasonably assign it a quite significant prior: we lack coherent descriptions of large numbers of extinct religions or sufficient detail to distinguish them from others apart from relabeling of terms. Of extant religions, many lack coherent, unified systematic treatments like that presented by Christian philosophers who have spent centuries dealing with rational argument.
Third big problem: if the initial confidence in a religion is to be determined by the fact that there are many other religions, and we should equivocate across them, we make very big commitments to features shared by most or all of the important contenders. In particular, the OTF would have us practically assume supernaturalism and some supernatural cosmogony, though any particular version may be initially implausible. I don't think Loftus should be so eager to demand the starting point he does. I think he's sneaking in the assumption that materialistic alternatives dominate this space. If that's the case, we are more than past the importance of the number of alternatives. Unless he's asking us to assume supernaturalism, this sure does look, smell, and taste like an unjust demand that believers assume naturalism.
I could say more. Lots more. (Must personal, subjective background experience count for nothing?) But I really don't see the point, since Loftus never presents a sound, valid argument. Since the conclusion of his argument is that supernaturalism should be part of the outside position, I suppose I can be happy about that.
There is a way of preserving the legitimate core of the OTF without lapsing into absurdities and unreasonable dictations. It's called normal argument. Inconsistent treatments of evidence by believers, where important, will show up there. I do not see how the OTF does anything more than to prolong outstanding confusions. I would even say that it does more harm than good to the rational faculties of those who are introduced to it.
Bonus fun-time exercise: What would Calvin say about all this?
Edit 7/25/11: I cleaned up some of the sentences, added a few phrases, and added the last paragraph. I also want to add another observation:
If we should set our prior odds on Christianity to match those of our being Christians - as calibrated by sociological data - we get a very bad result for skeptics of Christianity. What, for example, should be our prior odds on the Resurrection before arguing over the evidence? Normally, and I think correctly, we calibrate this with respect to the well-documented tendency of dead people to remain dead. But what happens if we set our prior odds to the frequency of belief in the Resurrection? Since Christians argue that the Resurrection was an exceptional event, the fact that we normally observe dead people remaining dead would do nothing to reduce these odds before engaging the texts. If we take as a low estimate that Resurrection-believers account for 10% of the population, then our prior odds on the Resurrection will be absurdly high. I think that Christians can very easily overcome such a prior improbability with even a skeptical account of the New Testament. Yes, I think that Christians can easily pass the OTF as presented, at least with respect to the Resurrection.
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