A “University Lecturer living in South Korea” calling himself Skepoet responded here to our episode. He gives a nice quote from Julian Baggini and makes some salient points about our discussion.
One of his comments was that we didn’t seem to find an argument in Harris to critique. Here’s the argument as I remember it that we were focusing on:
If you suspend your critical faculties and “have faith,” then you open yourself up to believing all sorts of horrific stuff, such as, most importantly to the rest of society, commands to violence.
The general response is, yes, if faith is actually a matter of “I can’t think for myself! Think for me!” then this is a legitimate concern, and no doubt that is exactly the experience of faith in some people. However:
1. Per Kant and William James, faith about matters over which no experiential deconfirmation is even theoretically possible isn’t irrational in this way. Granted, most actual religions are not Kant-friendly in this way (so it’s kind of goofy that we spent so much time on this when that’s not the new atheists’ target for the most part).
2. As a practical matter, people just don’t get brainwashed to the point of violence. Other forces in human motivation tend to step in to curtail violence, and when violence does occur, you generally find that the perpetrator had more things wrong with him than just the religious motivation. Religion is neither necessary nor sufficient for violence… which is not to say that they’re unconnected in all circumstances or that more critical thinking wouldn’t be very helpful in preventing the spread of violence. To the extent that religion is against critical thinking, it’s a detriment to any society.
I think we all (on the podcast) agree that a lot of religion is superstitious nonsense: dubious historical claims, ad hoc explanations for natural phenomena, and in some cases commands that wrongfully override the moral sense of any decent person. Even the most religious person believes that lots of the claims of other religions fall into these categories. Using this case as an example, I think that religion can have a deleterious effect on the critical faculties of even someone smart, conscientious, and striving to be impartial in an investigation.
I think we (meaning Wes vs. me and Dylan at least) have some disagreement among us re. this whole “science itself is a form of faith” response. I don’t buy it at all; particular scientific claims just don’t resist contrary evidence in the way that religious dogmatics do. There is an interesting discussion to be had about Kantian “regulatory principles,” e.g. the principle of causality itself is not one that an experiment proves, but rather is presupposed by all experiments. However, as in the case of quantum mechanics, even this fundamental principle can be questioned as a result of experimentation. None of the new atheists seem inclined to grapple with this issue.
Many arguments about religion have the problem of being intolerably vague: if you argue “all religion is subject to” [some fatal flaw], then I can likely show you a variety of religion that doesn’t have this flaw. I prefer more specific debates: I don’t buy Kierkegaard’s defense of the morality (or rather the moral immunity) of Abraham’s actions (not to mention God’s) in the matter of the near-sacrifice of Issac in “Fear and Trembling.” I don’t buy creationism or the historical accuracy of many Bible stories or spiritual uncleanliness or the power of prayer to affect events in the world or any number of other specific things that this or that religious person may believe. Those specific arguments, though, are more contextualized than many other philosophical debates: you’re arguing against specific people, trying to convince them, or work your way out of some beliefs that have been binding you. Monologues aimed either at straw men or at people not open to rational discourse are not the paradigm of generally engaging philosophy.
Harris’s strategy is not to politically argue against the bad outcomes of some religion (i.e. violence) or the faulty beliefs engendered by gullibility encouraged by religion (e.g. creationism), but to go at faith itself, which he considers the root of the problem. This is politically problematic, as I think we pointed out repeatedly on the episode: it’s not going to convince those who have faith, because you’re essentially calling them stupid, which will close their ears to you.
Instead, we already have routes to political action designed to achieve the same effect available to us: First, act against actual violence and stupid policy (by voting, etc.). Second, enforce separation of church and state; we all admit we’re going to have different opinions about things like abortion, and we really need policies determined based on foundations that more or less all of us can agree on, which are going to be secular ones. Third, try in general (as we do through this podcast) to promote critical thinking, which will not eradicate faith but will help people to be circumspect about their faith, which can lessen the number of unfounded policies that might flow from it. As Dylan repeatedly said on the episode, the goal in a liberal democracy is to figure out how to get people to coexist peacefully with others regardless of their beliefs, not to regulate what people are allowed to think. (Incidentally, I think Dennett presents a better model than Harris in trying to diagnose and bring to light virulent strains in religion and saying something about how religious beliefs form in comparison to other sorts of cultural accretions.)
-Mark Linsenmayer
Mark, I actually find that you made a better argument for Harris than Harris actually does himself. Still thank you for laying out the argument as I may have just gotten lost in it as Wes and you were going to going back and forth on the issue.
Honestly, though, I still wish so much time wasn’t wasted on Harris or if it was, on Harris’s recent book of “philosophy” instead of his End of Faith, but I understand that you were largely giving your audience what they asked for.
I did think your discussion of Dawkin’s was particularly illuminating. I have been arguing with another philosophically educated friend on my about how “soft” you have been on religion.
The issue, I think, with Harris is that the arguments against him have to be really based on political philosophy since his polemic, if you read the whole thing, is largely based on advocating specific beliefs and encourage other religions. (His cherry-picking of Shantideva at the end of “The End of Faith” was particularly problematic).
Hi Mark,
I may be misunderstanding you (and/or Kierkegaard), but I fear you’re mischaracterizing K’s argument if you describe it as calling Abraham morally defensible or immune from judgment. Kierkegaard was trying to explain that (1) Christians, if they are to be serious about their faith, must somehow come to grips with the story of Abraham, (2) contra Hegel, Christian morality can never be decided by the individual, the state, or rational principles, and (3) none of us can ever understand Abraham’s upbeat attitude toward killing Isaac, without positing the leap of faith. The only alternative is to conclude that one of the “founding fathers” of Christianity was despicable.
To declare Abraham’s actions indefensible or immune from judgment–without also declaring all of Christianity to be a lie–begs the rejoinder: how can one be a Christian and simultaneously account for Abraham’s attitude and actions?
But to say that one is unpersuaded by Abraham’s moral defense or immunity because one is not a Christian in the first place is not to find a fault with Kierkegaard’s argument–that _is_ Kierkegaard’s argument. With Fear & Trembling, Kierkegaard was trying to get self-identified Christians to understand just how scary a commitment Christianity was; he wasn’t trying to convince non-believers of the morality of Abraham’s behavior.
Would it be unfair to compare Abraham’s level of commitment to the faith of the 9/11 high-jackers or to the dedication of those who shoot abortion providers? If faith is what we need to posit in order to have an upbeat attitude about killing, then faith is morally outrageous. If Christian morality can never be decided by the individual or by rational principles, then Christianity is morally blind and unprincipled. Isn’t this exactly what’s at the heart of Harris’s complaints?
Maybe I never rightly understood Mr. Church Guard or the story of Issac and Abraham but in both cases the “morality” strikes me as anything but moral. Sorry, but I have a son and so whole the story fills me with, um, fear and trembling.
Hi David,
If the argument fills you with fear and trembling, then Kierkegaard’s argument worked! Christian morality based upon rational principles (as Hegel prescribed) requires no faith. Nor, for that matter, does any argument for God’s existence which is based upon rational principles. (Just trying to connect this back to the two recent episodes and blog posts.)
Kierkegaard’s whole point is that you can’t really consider yourself a Christian (as opposed to being a mere member of “Christendom”) unless you’re willing to think long and hard about what “moral” you’re supposed to derive from the Binding of Isaac.
There’s really no way to reconcile Abraham’s actions with commonly-accepted morality, and therefore serious Christians must be willing to accept that their faith is built on paradox, not rational coherence.
Therefore, attaining faith through accepting paradox is difficult and scary, if one is to pay any heed to the parables contained within the Bible. Faith in God should not be easy, nor should it be taken for granted. It certainly can’t be gained through application of reason.
You may disagree, but then you have to come to terms with the presence of Abraham’s story within the Bible.
Just to add some fact content to my opinionating, see below the introduction and conclusion to F&T, which I think contain some of K’s more amusing turns of phrase. (I’ve added some minor edits for emphasis):
This raises an interesting question: Can Kierkegaard be used to support Harris’s scolding of moderates as incoherent?
Harris says something to the effect of, “look, your scriptures command you to do bad things. If you’re going to be logically consistent, you can’t just pick and choose, but should really be going all hard-line if you buy into this religion you claim to.”
Kierkegaard similarly scolds the Protestants of his time for not taking the commands of their religion seriously. Though he’s not going to be a literalist in reading scripture (he has a totally different religious epistemology), in Fear & Trembling he (I think) does in effect say that you as an individual need to take very seriously what your religion tells you, even if it contravenes what you would otherwise rationally consider to be moral.
I think I agree with David that there’s a connection here, even if a sensitive reading of Kierkegaard and view of his life makes the upshot of his teachings more along the lines of Schleiermacher’s “religion by its very nature doesn’t actually tell you to do violent and hateful things” doctrine.
Kierkegaard and Harris are definitely kindred spirits in the sense that both believe any Christian worthy of the term must come to grips with the literal text of the scriptures. K thought that true because state-opted Christianity was becoming commercialized. Harris thinks it’s true because “metaphorical” Christians simply enable the “literalist” Christians who ban books, bomb buildings, berate women seeking abortions, etc.
But much of post-Schleiermacher Christianity has been to steer away from Biblical literalism. That’s as true of current Catholic tradition as with Protestant tradition:
http://www.ewtn.com/library/CURIA/PBCINTER.HTM#3
So my rejoinder to Kierkegaard and Harris is that they both force a false choice between abandoning religion or acting a fool.
A brief reminder of religion’s still privilaged roll in (American) society:
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/10/17/is-religion-above-the-law/?ref=opinion
Aside from the discussion of divergent epistemologies and the general vitriol of most Atheist advocates, there is definitely still a need to regulate the area where religious principles have practical consequences, which isn’t always as narrow or inoccuous as some might think.
I appreciate Kierkegaard’s passion to some extent. (Thanks for the quotes, Daniel.) Who doesn’t admire – at least in the abstract – the courageous souls, the ones who are willing to defy convention for some higher purpose? But do we have to “learn to stand in awe of the enormous paradox” if we don’t believe that scripture is divine or even true? Unless the story is mere illusion, he says, we must measure our own courage against Abraham’s “great” deed. But the deed in question and the sort of courage it takes is what I find so disturbing about this story.
Isn’t it fundamentally about having the courage to submit to God’s will and authority regardless of what you think or feel about it and regardless of the consequences for others? Like the story of Job, it teaches total submission to an otherworldly authority and this lesson is presented in very extreme terms. As you know, these are foundational stories for no less than three of the world’s great religions. If you don’t take these texts as divine, the stories don’t present great paradoxes. They just show that morality has evolved – or at least changed – since ancient times. This kind of patriarchal authoritarian impulse doesn’t fit very well in a pluralistic democracy, and the rights (freedom of religion, speech, assembly, etc.) entailed in the latter can be seen as a rival set of moral values.
Another disturbing feature of the story is its grandiosity, no? If the Creator of heaven and earth issues a command, who I am to disobey? And ain’t it grand to have a role in the great cosmic drama? It seems that things are naturally going to get out of hand whenever and wherever it’s believed that the stakes are so high. Long story short, I am afraid of the guy who thinks he’s working for the author of the universe. He’s all in. He has pushed in all his chips and he’s betting on eternity. This is a recipe for extreme beliefs and behavior, no?
Hi David,
If we agree that the Story of Abraham is meant to be foundational to no less than three separate religions, then all three of those religions provide a recipe for extreme beliefs and behavior, no?
You’re totally right there was a different moral context to that time and place. But if morals have changed since ancient times, and we’re allowed to discount the Story of Abraham accordingly, then what other moral commands & parables from the Bible may we discount with the passage of the centuries?
That wasn’t Kierkegaard’s point, but I agree with Kierkegaard that anyone who wants to take their religion seriously must account for how they are going to deal with scriptural authority. If one takes the literalist approach, that of course has consequences. But so too does the non-literalist approach. To wit, once you discount and rationalize away one story, why discount and rationalize away all of them?
Both give rise to the question: where does that path end? What are the ramifications? Either path leads to hard questions, and Kierkegaard was right that too few Christians even concern themselves with them.
“…why _not_ discount and rationalize away all of them?”, I meant to say!
Yes, the story of Abe & son is found in the scriptures of all three religions. It’s a pretty big deal in that respect. But, unlike Kierkegaard, I think we ought not take such stories as sanctioned by divine authority. Belief in that kind of authority is precisely what bothers me.
Don’t get me wrong, Daniel, I like to think that I take religion quite seriously, that one cannot rightly understand history, philosophy or maybe even humanity without some substantial understanding of religion. Long story short, the story of religion in our culture is a movement away from the authority of scriptures and institutions and toward the authority of the individual. The rise of Protestantism would be the prime example but then you get these quasi-unique voices, like Kierkegaard’s, ironically. Our own Emerson pushed spirituality in this direction, big time, and William James practically invented the field known as “psychology of religion.” As he saw it, scriptures, dogmas, institutions and the like were all secondary formations, after the fact. As he saw it, religion is first and foremost a personal experience. I think he’s probably right.
Hi guys,
Thanks for all your great work. I have only recently started following your podcast and just gotten to this episode. So please excuse me if I’m missing points discussed in the great wealth of subsequent episodes / blog posts. I would like to bring up some points which may not have received enough attention in your conversation.
With regard to the question “What are the types of ideologies against which the new atheists rail?” I sympathize with you in that these thinkers tend to be vague as to the target of their criticism. In their writings, debates, interviews etc., they do leave a diffuse trail of “pet peeves”, from which I can collate the following list of salient points:
1. Faith that is not explicitly “examined” or treated as a convenient fiction: As you have correctly observed, faith per se is so ubiquitous and essential to our functioning that it is absurd to take exception to it. However, in the scientific method, the faith that is placed in epistemic principles, methodology, data, etc. is very consciously acknowledged, and practiced as a pragmatic measure to get scientific practice off the ground at all. One is trained and conditioned to practice vigilant skepticism even against the fundamental principles and premises taken on faith; and indeed, these are subject to change as scientific consensus evolves. I think it is reasonable to fault ideologies that either fail to institute such self-corrective mechanisms or, worse, actively discourage questioning the objects of faith in their doctrine.
2. This lack of examination of faith is particularly pernicious in the face of scriptural cherrypicking. People convince themselves that they are adherent, and yet ultimately overrule scriptural authority (with their own judgements, evolved social norms, etc.) without explicitly admitting it to themselves.
3. Notwithstanding active traditions of scholarly theology and commentary, there tends to be an overall lax and uncritical attitude towards faith. This critique already applies on a purely philosophical level, but becomes even more relevant in connection with the political and social influence of religion: common religious people don’t tend to be conversant with the level of nuance in the associated theological traditions. (But for that matter, common atheists lack nuance and critical thinking to a comparable degree, and instead tend to just idolize their Dawkinses, Hitchenses, Harrises and Tysons… but that is for a whole other discussion!)
4. In addition to the skepticism-killing mechanisms internal to religious doctrine, organized religion also enjoys special immunity against criticism in the social and political spheres. Critique of religious doctrine is commonly confounded with bigotry against the adherents: both by actual bigots who hijack the former to perpetrate the latter, and by cultural relativist apologists who use the latter as a straw man to smother the former.
5. You did cover this to some extent, but still: with regard to what notions of “god” are philosophically viable, one usually finds that only the most watered-down, abstract “first cause” type ideas can be salvaged. The upshot is that there is no justifiable basis for ideologies that use a god concept to peddle easy answers to existential, ethical, or otherwise practically relevant questions. In particular, the problem of evil / suffering really has no philosophically satisfying solution. Responses like “God works in mysterious ways, and it knows best what’s good for us” may be comforting to one who has faith to begin with, thereby lending some pragmatic value to the god idea (even this is debatable; it can be the opposite of comforting to have faith but not have one’s prayers answered). But philosophically, Occam’s razor would replace such a mysteriously benevolent god with the simpler theory of an uncaring universe.
I think these and possibly other points can be distilled to form a charitable interpretation of the new atheists, filtering out all of their sensational public discourse.
That all sounds reasonable. Welcome aboard!
Thanks! Some further thoughts on this episode and the previous episode that have since occurred to me:
1. During the summing-up, one of you (Seth, I think) alluded again to the idea of religion and science being “nonoverlapping magisteria”. In this context, you mentioned how the methods of science are already found wanting in realms such as economics and sociology. I would consider this to be too narrow an application of the term “science”. It is true that the traditional tools used in the physical sciences up until the mid-twentieth century prove inadequate to deal with complex systems such as societies; however, new tools are being developed and applied with no small measure of success in advancing our understanding. I’m sure you would agree that this is all done more in the spirit of “science” than “religion”, broadly speaking (evidence-based, parsimonious in assumptions, etc.). Even in matters of, say, “spiritual” inquiry into one’s subjective experience, there is no reason why the same scientific spirit cannot be adhered to. Indeed, ancient eastern traditions have set much precedent for such inquiry. I would go so far as to say that any realm of human experience, however “transcendental” or far removed from “science”, would still admit a somewhat scientific or analytical approach. (Aesthetics? Relationships?…)
2. In the previous episode, you discussed the ontological argument for god. In that context, you mentioned that refutations like the “perfect island” could be dodged by qualifying the god concept with its claim to a privileged universal perfection. Of course, the ontological argument does ultimately fall to other objections. But I wonder if objections like the following have been raised: “A being perfect in all other respects would surely be more perfect if it admitted no suffering in the world. But suffering exists, and therefore such a being does not exist.”; “A being perfect in all other respects would surely be more perfect by being manifestly present and in unmistakable dialogue with its creation. But there is no such manifestation, and therefore no such being.” Etc. These are of course not much different or more insightful than other objections, but they strike me as fitting ironic applications of the ontological argument’s very style of reasoning.
Hoping to engage with other topics once I catch up with more of your content. Thanks again!