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.

Friday, July 29, 2011

Cosmic Savagery

Via PZ Myers, I came across this video:





There is much more to qualify about the comments in this video, but I think it important to discuss one of the recurring themes: the desire for cosmic justice. I think it important to discuss for a very simple reason, that it is no exaggeration or hyperbole to say that the underlying mentality constitutes a threat to the continued survival of the species in this modern age. The reasons are obvious.

Bertrand Russell summarizes it aptly in his Sceptical Essays:
When we think of mankind, we think primarily of ourself as its representative; we therefore think well of mankind, and consider its preservation important. Mr Jones, the Nonconformist grocer, is sure that he deserves eternal life, and that a universe which refused it to him would be intolerably bad. But when he thinks of Mr Robinson, his Anglican competitor, who mixes sand with his sugar and is lax about Sunday, he feels that the universe might well carry charity too far. To complete his happiness, there is need of hell-fire for Mr Robinson; in this way, the cosmic importance of man is preserved, but the vital distinction between friends and enemies is not obliterated by a weak universal benevolence. Mr Robinson holds the same view with the parts inverted, and general happiness results.
Less frivolously, many of us feel that the universe is not a particularly just place and desire that somehow the good should be rewarded and the evil punished. This retributive mentality does great harm, and I strongly object to it.

Orwell talks about it well:
It is absurd to blame any German or Austrian Jew for getting his own back
on the Nazis. Heaven knows what scores this particular man may have had
to wipe out; very likely his whole family had been murdered; and after
all, even a wanton kick to a prisoner is a very tiny thing compared with
the outrages committed by the Hitler régime. But what this scene, and
much else that I saw in Germany, brought home to me was that the whole
idea of revenge and punishment is a childish daydream. Properly speaking,
there is no such thing as revenge. Revenge is an act which you want to
commit when you are powerless and because you are powerless: as soon as
the sense of impotence is removed, the desire evaporates also.
The desire for retribution, cosmic or otherwise, is one of our worst features. Compare the following statements:

1. Hitler, responsible for the horrible deaths of millions, dies and goes to Hell.
2. Hitler, responsible for the horrible deaths of millions, dies and does not go to Hell.

Who out there is absurd enough to demand the former and claim it a better state of affairs than the latter? What does it do to `offset', by divine justice, karma, `the balance of the universe', or whatever other theory the horrors it contains?

No, I do not want a Hell, not even for Hitler. If there is a Heaven, I even say we should want him there, assuming he would be harmless. What point is there in kicking a caged animal, no matter how vicious? To desire otherwise is to want suffering for its own sake; I cannot abide it, and I stare in dull horror at my neighbors. And yes, sometimes myself.

I stress that this mentality, though usually supported with a theological assertion if any theoretical justification is in offering, is a secular one. It is a very big part of why so many support the death penalty here in America. I wonder why it satisfies them that a murderer, however horrid, should be subjected to ritualistic slaughter after he has been made harmless. The kicking of toothless creatures is a big part of our tribalistic make-up, and its consequences are terrible.

That anyone should want to elevate this reactionary savagery into a governing principle of the cosmos is beyond me. I suspect and hope that those who do have not seriously analyzed their desires.

I leave you with this.




Thursday, July 28, 2011

Resurrection round-up

Alright, I've finished my discussion of the McGrews' paper! Eight posts should be a good enough start, I hope. Anyways, start here.

As I say throughout, I think that their paper is an excellent starting point for further discussion. So I will use this post to collect future arguments about the Resurrection which fit into the discussed frameworks. I'll keep this in the sidebar. Anyways, these posts constitute 11,500 words of writing, done over the course of only a few hours (I had been sitting on these thoughts for a while). Doubtless there are errors, typographical and otherwise. If you find any, let me know.

Update (8/6/2011): Here are two posts on Hume's argument and a revision of the same.

Update (9/3/2011): I'll be regularly listing related links here.

1. Reppert on estimating priors.

Tim and Lydia McGrew on the Resurrection, part 8 (conclusion/outline)

[Continued from Part 7.]

I have tentatively argued for a Bayes factor of 106 given the textual assumptions of the McGrews. I have further proposed a way to expand the discussion to include skeptics of these assumptions. In these conclusions, I have agreed with the McGrews that their assumptions are plausible, and that on these assumptions the Resurrection is the best explanation. However, I think that they overreach when they claim, or seem to claim, that their methodology - which they agree is very partial - approximates a more general Bayes factor (p.39).

The rest of their paper (pp.46-68) discusses Hume and the objections of other apologists. As I have said, I am leaving that topic for later. Just as they have not claimed to have derived odds on the Resurrection, I do not claim to have done so either.

As I stated at the beginning, the McGrews have started an excellent conversation. I would recommend anyone who wishes to pursue a rigorous analysis of the evidence for the Resurrection to read their paper. And just as they have qualified, I must qualify that my approach has not been complete.

In particular, I have not gathered all of the relevant evidence in deriving this likelihood ratio. Many apologists insist on Paul's claim that there are 500 witnesses. Skeptics focus on potential `gaps' in the text, which become quite plausible on the (quite plausible) assumption that the relevant texts are polemical and designed to serve the Christian community. In this sense, my Bayes factor is not cumulative. My Bayes factor is also not cumulative with respect to textual criticisms. Again, I've outlined how that may be pursued. A fully rigorous analysis of all of the details will probably lead to a figure quite different from the one which I have suggested. But I think, quite plausibly, that the figure I have suggested is not a gross underestimate. And I think it quite low enough to leave anyone with a reasonable prior ratio unconvinced. If Christians think that the prior odds on the Resurrection are above something like 10-6, I hope they will tell me why this is. If they have such a value, I assume it will be within the context of a well-formed natural theology. Contrary to the McGrews (p.49), I think this will prove necessary.

So there are my efforts. I hope you will read them all before making critical comments, just as I hope you will read the McGrews' paper. If you spot a technical error or misspelling, I would of course appreciate immediate correction. Otherwise, I ask that you take time to absorb the details, and inquire for yourself how knowledge you have may further inform the discussion.

I also hope that readers can at least retrospectively appreciate the utility of Bayesian techniques in analyzing such arguments. The importance of this or that number is minimal: what is important is that they can be used to capture the arguments, show how they relate to each other, and help us to focus on the important details. They also help to understand how I, a skeptic of the Resurrection, can be quite satisfied with a statement like "the Resurrection is the best explanation of the salient facts" - a statement which is very difficult to refute, I think. Bayesian insights allow me to maintain my skepticism without undertaking hopeless endeavors, for example defending or asserting statements like "the Bible does not constitute any evidence for the Resurrection." In arguments over the Resurrection, we cannot eliminate entirely our differing private intuitions. But we can at least see what is required of those intuitions and reduce their impact when possible.

And I love this stuff for its own sake. I'm soggy like that.

Suggestions for the future: separate the witness of James the Just from that of the other apostles, subsume the testimony of the women within that of the disciples generally, and largely omit any discussion of Paul's conversion as itself evidential in favor of other details. Paul is doubtlessly important, but his importance is in his teaching and his early date. And keep it general, yo.

Tim and Lydia McGrew on the Resurrection, part 7

[Continued from Part 6.]

Hallo and good day, weary traveler! We may now discuss in passing one final detail, i.e. the impact of the testimony of the women (W) on our final Bayes factor, which has currently been reduced from the McGrews' estimate of 1044 to 107. If I can convince you that the womens' testimony is not significant, we will arrive at a final replacement Bayes factor of 105. Then, I may finally lay my weary head to rest and fly elsewhere. Especially, I hope to soon discuss Hume's argument and attempt to estimate prior odds on the Resurrection.

I think this may be done as follows: take the alternative hypotheses to the Resurrection which I have proposed to explain the disciples' witness and subsume the womens' testimony within them. This may be done without loss of prior plausibility, especially since initial rumors already play a role. This undermines the `essential independence' of the women from the other disciples proposed by the McGrews (p.41), which I do not think defends probabilistic independence in any case. As I have discussed, the emergence of rumors would very likely have affected the reaction of the disciples. Indeed, since the witness of women would have been regarded as less credible (p.28), we may plausibly expect the disciples to have corroborated their belief - which perhaps began with the women's testimony - with witness of their own. This, I think, tentatively answers the McGrews' challenge: "why [should we not] judge p(W|R) to be at least several orders of magnitude greater than p(W|~R)?" (p.30)

To argue directly that W should have less effect than 102 on the final Bayes factor requires, I think, a questioning of the McGrews' salient facts. If we separate it out from the other details, I think that the McGrews were sufficiently generous in leaving it at 102. In assenting to this, all I am saying is the following: that the women would report an empty tomb, or seeing Jesus, had he not Resurrected has probability 0.01, assuming that they would report it had they really seen it and that the facts are as described by the McGrews. I do not think that this is too challenging an admission for a skeptic. Instead, we need not recognize this contribution as multiplicative, and regard it as diminished by other considerations.

I think this, along with any potential minor significance of Paul in light of the other reductions, can be fairly accounted for by leaving a final estimate of the Bayes factor at 106, and plausibly lower.

Now, we may finally arrive at our destination.

Tim and Lydia McGrew on the Resurrection, part 6

[Continued from Part 5.]

We are now ready to focus on D, the facts about the witness of the disciples, and the independence assumptions which the McGrews make in arguing that this multiplicatively contributes 1039 to a final Bayes factor. We have already reduced the cumulative Bayes factor from 1044 to 1041 by arguing that Paul's conversion does not significantly contribute to the likelihood of the Resurrection. As noted in the last past, we are also accepting the characterization of the factual record which the McGrews make, leaving dispute of that question to a more general analysis, the outlines of which are to be found in part 2. The relevant facts, and some of the argument, which I assume in this post are to be found in part 5. You will not understand this post if you have not closely followed the previous discussion.

For simplification, we may assume - and safely - that p(D|R)=1. If you think that this compromises accuracy or is unfair, try ascribing to it a value of 1/2 or 1/10 or even 1/100, and see how much it affects my conclusions. It won't prove to be crucial. There may be room to dispute it, but that discussion falls outside of the matter at hand, which is to question the conclusions of the McGrews while sharing their premises. This done, we may focus entirely on p(D|~R). This single value is the most important that occurs in their analysis, so it merits the closest focus.

Recall that there are 13 disciples in D; I denote them as D1,...,D13. If we assume conditional independence under ~R, then

.

Recall that the McGrews do not argue that this assumption is plausible. Instead, they feel that the failures of this assumption tend to favor their argument, that is,

.

Since the quantity on the left hand side represents the denominator of relevant Bayes factor - where the numerator is 1 by assumption - increasing it decreases the Bayes factor. Given the general likelihood formula (p.26), the McGrews argue in my notation and with our shared assumptions the following (p.42):



where p(D1|~R) is an approximate average of the 13 p(Di|~R). From the messiness of this formula, one can see the allure of independence. But remember the crucial detail is the inequality, not the equality, of the left hand side and right hand side in the above formula. And note that regardless of independence, one must explain at least one disciple's testimony without relying on the others.

Here is where we turn to their defense of this thesis (pp.40-46), which, just as in our previous discussion of the strength of a disciple, goes wrong for the following reason: the McGrews assume that the only significant, explanatory alternatives to the Resurrection are those which claim that the disciples were frauds, pranksters, cynical, or the victims of hallucination or delusion. As I mentioned, I am quite willing to agree that the disciples were devout, sincere, and dedicated followers of Jesus, and that they were not likely the victims of elaborate pranks, and that they were not likely to forge conspiracies without good reason. But just as in the discussion of Paul's conversion, the McGrews expend little effort imagining how it is that Jesus' followers may have realistically reacted to Jesus' death. They never say, or do not closely pursue, something like, "given that the Resurrection did not occur, here are several likely ways that the disciples may have reacted..." They instead assume that no such plausible reaction would at all explain their later behavior.

I think it plausible that the Crucifixion occurred and that the Crucifixion surprised the disciples. I doubt they would expect their Messiah to die the humiliating death of a criminal. But I think this for a good reason: I do not think that anyone there would have expected that, except for those who already condemned him as a heretic. Why is this important? Because this is exactly how skeptics argue. They do not need to invent vivid hallucinations to explain the disciples' commitment. Instead, they ask how well-intentioned followers would likely react and argue from there.

For example, suppose that you are one of Jesus' disciples. He has been dead for some time now, and you are frustrated. You are frustrated because you still believe that Jesus was the Messiah, and because you believe that the Messiah has appointed you to spread his message. The end of the world is coming soon, and Jesus will be the judge. It is vitally important that others in these troubled times understand and believe. But unfortunately, the audience is not receptive. What good, after all, is a dead Messiah for liberating the Jews from the Romans and restoring the Law? There are rumors among followers and admirers of Jesus, especially in distant regions, that he could not have died as he did. Why shouldn't there be? Nobody expected this, of all horrors, to happen. But you did not waste your life by abandoning your family to follow Jesus. His moral message is still sound, and the brotherhood of your Christians is still precious to you. The communalistic message of Christianity can provide for the poor and the beggars and others who live as you have lived.

You are faced with a choice: (1) lie, exaggerate, fail to discredit rumors, or otherwise insist that Jesus better fulfilled the expectations of doubters, or (2) quash the rumers, alienate the faithful, and suffer virtually no success against the skepticism of your peers. Pace the McGrews, you have every incentive to choose (1), as do the other Appointed. You are already willing to risk persecution and death for Jesus' teachings. Why risk dying without successfully guiding others to Salvation? The Messiah did not do as you expected, but he will one day return to rule the world, and he had always explained why your mortal expectations were presumptuous before. Yes, Jesus is currently dead, but why should his teachings die before he returns? You've been tested before; now you are ready to pass the test.

Even this scenario, which I do not think too implausible, is too simplistic. The dilemma may have been the same, but the psychology leading to the preaching of the Resurrection was probably nowhere near this crude. If you like, you can imagine other, similar scenarios which you find more plausible. The question you must address is this: were Jesus to die and remain dead, how likely is it that the disciples would have gone quiet, abandoned Jesus' teachings, and renounced their appointed status? To answer this is to partly answer the important question: what do you expect to have happened if the Resurrection did not occur? Do you expect that the disciples might have rationalized the Crucifixion? If so, how? Is a rationalization like the Resurrection story deeply unlikely, say p(`rationalization'|~R)=10-10?

It is hypotheses like these, unconsidered by the McGrews, that make the difference and undermine their defense of independence, because we need not dispute that the disciples were courageous, committed men in order to maintain it. In fact, these hypotheses are the product of their dedication. To ask how strongly this affects the Bayes factor is to ask how likely it is that the disciples would not have agreed to `lie in the service of the Truth' or would not have been able to rationalize this testimony in some other manner, or at the very least, would not have initially struck down the rumors among the faithful, and eventually come to believe them, or believe that their `essence' was true, or some other such thing. I do not think I need to list precedents of such behavior.

I think that this consideration alone, pursued in detail, is enough to push the Bayes factor way down; I think that others cleverer than myself can explore other plausible alternatives as well. But if we assume that this hypothesis does not share the bulk of p(~R), it is worth asking what the rest of the elements in ~R might look like. The McGrews appear to assume that it is dominated by completely un-explanatory hypotheses, i.e. H:p(H|~R)=0, but I do not think that this is the case. At the very least, I think that this is a very poor approximation whenever we start tossing around numbers like 1039.

How exactly should this affect p(D|~R)? Suppose that the hypothesis I outlined with respect to a single disciple gives us something like p(D1|~R)=0.01, an estimate which I think rather conservative. Now we ask how this should affect the other disciples: here, look at the same dilemma again, adding that other disciples are already claiming R. By the time we reach 7 or 8 disciples, the others follow very naturally. In this way, we can be sure that the independence assumption is overly hard on skeptical alternatives. More formally, we can give a tentative estimate of p(D|~R)=10-4 or p(D|~R)=10-5, and plausibly something higher.

So a tentative readjustment of the multiplicative contribution of the disciples to the cumulative Bayes factor is 105. I think that this is generous, and I think that skeptics can ground this or a lower value. But I am still admitting the following: given the characterization of the texts and the history of the McGrews, the testimony of the disciples is best explained by the Resurrection. What I dispute is how significant this detail must be.

Taking stock, our reduction of the Bayes factor is from 1044 to 107. The last fact which the McGrews discuss is the testimony of the women (W). That will be the topic of my next post. After that detail - perhaps unimportant relative to the other aspects of the argument - I can round all of this noise up and see where it leaves us.

Tim and Lydia McGrew on the Resurrection, part 5

[Continued from Part 4.]

In addition to the items summarized in the last post, we have now seen that there is little reason to regard Paul's conversion as itself making significant contribution to a cumulative Bayes factor, even when taking the relevant salient facts of the McGrews at face value - where they are consistent and actually salient. We have therefore reduced the McGrews' final Bayes factor from 1044 to 1041. Admittedly, this change is very slight. As previously discussed, the most important features of CCRJ are as follows: the independence assumptions and the effect of the disciples, particularly in conjunction. These ideas alone contribute a multiplicative factor 1039 to the McGrews' final likelihood ratio. Before discussing the details surrounding the disciples, their independence should be treated first.

The McGrews do not argue that their conditional independence assumptions are plausible. On the contrary: "the invocation of independence assumptions at several points is contestable; in fact, we believe that the case of the calculation for D the independence assumption almost certainly breaks down." So why do they invoke it? Because "this fact does not necessarily lessen the strength of the argument. Everything depends on the balance of considerations regarding the direction and extend of the breakdown of independence under R and ~R" (p.40). This approach is quite sensible: start out with an admitted simplification, critique it, and argue that the critiques generally favor the proponent of the argument.1 I think that the only other even approximately accurate response available on the web - at least that I know of - fails to adequately address this.

Allow me to motivate the discussion by being self-referential. If one grants a significant number, say n, of events Ei where i is a positive integer less than or equal to n, and one can assume that the Ei are conditionally independent under a hypothesis H and its negation ~H, then even a very small individual factor



is a big deal. With only 13 witnesses, even assigning a Bayes factor of 10 to each individual - even this seems uncharitable - still gives you a cumulative factor of

,

where the notation is exchanged as needed. This is a big number, even if its nowhere near that proposed by the McGrews.2

As we noticed, the McGrews will not be surprised if we directly challenge independence. Instead, we have to focus on pages 40-46 of the CCRJ. In order to do this, we have to start discussing and disputing facts about the disciples. This is because of the straightforward fact I noted in the other post in the context of evidential variety: the invocation of independence across a significant number of events `filters out' hypotheses which do not convincingly allow these events to be correlated. Less abstractly, the fact that the disciples not only witnessed as they did individually but did so in agreement must be plausibly explained by some element in ~R, if we grant that agreement.3 `Bad' hypotheses, for our purposes, are those which are intrinsically implausible and those which are only plausible with respect to one or a few disciples. Even if a hallucination happened to plausibly explain the witness of one disciple, it does not without lots of dubious conjecture help to explain the correlation of the witnesses.

The key facts about the disciples4 are as follows:

1. They were not expecting the Crucifixion or Resurrection in advance.
2. They were willing to die - or at least take great risk - in order to spread Jesus' message. (pp.17, 20-24, 30-37.)
3. There was little to no material or social advantage in preaching this message.
4. They attested to a physical resurrection. They claimed to have seen him and spoken with him for some lengthy period of time, e.g. 40 days. (pp.17-8)
5. They did not present a self-flattering account of the Resurrection. For example, they claimed to not readily understand, to be fearful, to have doubts, and to be chided and corrected by Jesus. (pp.17-8)

A hefty confidence in these is required to stick to the McGrews' analysis. For example, the importance of consensus amongst the disciples, and that there were no omitted complaints from purported witnesses, is of central importance (p.32). While I agree with the McGrews that it is very difficult to seriously attribute most or all of the disciples' testimony to cynicism or fabrication, my confidence in the uniformity of their testimony with respect to these key facts is much less. There is little reason, had there been substantive dissent, to expect that it would have made it into the gospels. Still, my purposes at this time are not to dispute these items. However, such discussion will be an important part of a general analysis like that presented in part 2.

Now, I agree with the McGrews that `external' theories, e.g. the `stolen body hypothesis', do very little to explain the facts in question (p.32). The point is to account for these facts in a convincing manner, and their origin is not at all explained by people stealing Jesus' body to corroborate the claims of early Christians. What we are looking for are `internal theories', i.e., those which convincingly explain the actions and statements of the disciples. It is here that I think the McGrews grossly underestimate the strength of potential naturalistic alternatives.

Before moving on, I should say something about the significance of these facts, especially (5). The idea is that were the disciples to be manufacturing stories or exaggerating in order to advance their cause, we might reasonably expect them to not be so hard on themselves. I do not think, especially in the context of Christianity, that this is a significant consideration. I think we are all familiar with examples of false humility, or we understand at the very least that confessions of guilt and personal inadequacy are very often encouraged in Christian communities, even admired. Perhaps my personal experience is overshadowing the general picture, but I understood early as a child that confession of guilt in church and begging for redemption was admired and expected of me. That the disciples do not flatter themselves is insignificant in the context of Jesus' teachings, quite apart from the Resurrection, "for all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God." There are similar considerations for (1). Evidently, and I think everyone involved agrees, Jews did not expect that the prophesied Messiah would be anything like Jesus. That the disciples understood, empathized, or even shared in part this lack of expectation is not overly surprising. What matters is how we would expect the disciples to "normally behave" after Jesus' death.

To address naturalistic alternatives to the Resurrection which explain (1)-(5), the McGrews rework in probabilistic terms the good ol' "nobody would die for a lie" claim. This argument has its merits, as far as it goes, but it does not go as far as the McGrews think.
It is sometimes urged that kamikaze pilots, suicide bombers, and Nazis were willing to give their lives for what they believed was true. The objection may be put more broadly. Virtually every religion has its zealous adherents who have been willing to die for what they believe; why, then, should the willingness of the apostles to die as martyrs be of special epistemic interest? The answer is that this description blurs the distinction between the willingness to die for an ideology and the willingness to die in attestation of an empirical fact. (p.32) [citations omitted.]
It is clear that neither kamikazes, Nazis, nor suicide bombers died to affirm the reality of something that they had seen with their eyes and their hands had handled. Thus, their deaths and the falsehood of some of their beliefs tell us nothing about the probability that a man will die to make an affirmation like that of the apostles when it is in fact false. The educational resources of an entire nation, applied over the course of a decade or more to minds at their most impressionable stage, may be sufficient to induce in the young the general belief that their country or their religion is worth dying for. But what would induce grown men to break with the religious community in which they had been raised and confess with their blood that they had seen with their own eyes and handled with their own hands their dead rabbi raised again to life? (p.33) [Emphasis in original.]
The McGrews partially answer their own question or are really asking it to themselves. The disciples had already broken with their religious background to follow Jesus - with the possible exception of James. They were already committed to the heretical philosophy of Jesus. They were not merely dying to attest the Resurrection; they were dying for the belief that the Messiah had arrived, that only His followers would find salvation, and that the end was near. The distinction which the McGrews make is valid, but it is extremely narrow in this context.5 To divorce the Resurrection from the other claims, moral and otherwise, of Christianity is misleading.

The previous considerations apply to the "disciples witnessed but did not really believe" section of alternatives. Now we can look at the "disciples witnessed and really believed" section of alternatives. Here is where we find claims about delusion and hallucination:
Suppose, on the other hand, that the witnesses did have good reasons for their belief in the resurrection but were nevertheless mistaken. How is this supposed to come about? The hallucination theory has at least this advantage over both external naturalistic explanations and the appeal to enthusiasm: the supposition that the disciples suffered from sufficiently vivid and persistent hallucinations provides the resources to explain why they firmly believed they had seen Jesus risen. But this gain in explanatory power comes at a prohibitive cost in prior probability... (p.33) [Citations omitted]
Instead of looking at how the McGrews corroborate this last statement, try imagining for yourself why this should be. Is it really at all likely that these committed disciples should individually experience vivid hallucinations or powerful delusions on the event of their Messiah's death, and that these delusions, if that is what they were, should have the staying power that they did? How common are events like this at all? If we want to substantially reduce the Bayes factor proposed by the McGrews in a way that should be at all convincing to both skeptics and believers, we need to look elsewhere for alternatives. As the McGrews note, "the problem with the hallucination theory is that it has a vanishingly small probability conditional on ~R. The sort of complex, repeated, integrated hallucination that would be required to maintain even one disciple's testimony and willingness to die for it would represent a serious mental illness" (p.35). There are qualifications to the McGrews' argument that I would add, in particular that extreme distress can very plausibly result in a resilient, complex delusion, and need not require the positing of serious mental illness, but I will not dwell on these details. The fact remains that there is little reason to think such a thing happened, or would likely happen, and ultimately result in the texts as we find them.

Assuming plausibly that p(D|R) is quite high - say 1 for purposes of simplification - our attention focuses entirely on p(D|~R). We want to know whether or not p(D|~R)=10-39 is at all realistic. Although I agree with the McGrews that hallucination, delusion, and cynical fabrication are very unlikely, we still need to know whether their disjunction is well below 10-39. Unlikely as I think these are, I think that they are at least slightly more credible than that. However, if we are to propose a substantial increase in p(D|~R), we are going to have to look elsewhere. Namely, we want to look for alternative hypotheses H such that p(H|~R) and p(D|H) are significant. In the case that H is `fully explanatory' of ~R, the former quantity is p(H)/p(~R). Assuming that our prior confidence in ~R is high, this approximates the absolute probability p(H). The moral of the story? If you are proposing alternatives to the Resurrection which are designed to completely explain it, you have to be careful to avoid ad hoc thinking: you have to argue that all concerned should find that alternative explanation plausible for reasons other than that the Resurrection has low prior plausibility.

Failing to find any explanatory hypothesis of significant probability, the McGrews assign p(`a disciple'|~R)=0.001, which with independence gives a Bayes factor of 1039.

In order to discuss significant alternatives, question their defense of independence, and propose an alternative Bayes factor, we need to compare the independence case to the more general likelihood formula, which they provide in a footnote (p.26). This work will be formal, abstract, and address the most important part of their argument, so I give this work its own post.



1. To avoid confusion, the vernacular sense of `independent witnesses' is completely opposite to that of the probabilistic sense of `independent witnesses'. What we expect witnesses to do, if none influence the other and the circumstances are clear, is to produce correlating accounts. That is, what one witness says usually strongly affects what we expect other witnesses to say, which is the very opposite of conditional independence.

2. We'll see that the disciples should contribute heavily to the Bayes factor if one is willing to grant near-certainty to all of the important premises entertained by the McGrews. I do not think that skeptics should want (or need) to conclude something other than the following: if the gospel accounts are accurate as regards the relevant, secular evidence for R, then they strongly evidence R. I accept what probability tells me I must, if I assent to the following:
In other words, is there anything in the reports coming out of the first-century church that is more like what you should expect if Jesus was raised than if Jesus was not raised. If the answer to that question is yes, then the evidence confirms the resurrection, but it might still be rejected by reasonable people on the grounds that a Resurrection would commit you to the existence of God, or other features of Christianity that you consider to be improbable. Fine, but you can at least say, in response to the evidence, that the evidence directly bearing on the resurrection of Jesus is easier to explain if the Resurrection occurred than if it didn't. In other words, we can isolate one particular piece of evidence from the total evidence we have that bears on the issue and ask whether this piece of evidence supports the Christian claim that Jesus was resurrected or not.
Again, I think that the most important part of rejecting confirmation of R as derived from the Bayes factor is in rigorously defending a very small prior odds and presenting at least a very minimal case for skepticism as regards characterizations of the text like those employed by the McGrews. Both of these feats are easily done, I think, but I leave them to my betters for now.

3. There's much more to be said about this, but that discussion falls well outside of the salient facts as characterized by the McGrews.

4. Recall that there are 13, counting the original disciples minus Judas, Mathias, and James the Just (called `Brother of Jesus'). The details about James are sufficiently different that I would in future analyses recommend separating him from the rest of the disciples. In particular, he is argued to not have been a believer before Jesus died (p.22), and quite plausibly was not present to witness the events attested by the others (p.34).

5. I add also that we have many cases where people are willing to die for false witness. Does anybody here watch House? Have there ever been false confessions to murders? I'll leave this tangent to others.