Does Atheist Julian Baggini Consider the Strongest Counter Evidence? :: Book Review of Julian Baggini’s book Atheism: A Very Short Introduction

I have so far offered mostly praise and appreciation for Julian Baggini’s book Atheism: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford University Press, 2003), 119 pp.  In my last post I offered my first critical remarks of the book.  I argued that atheism is negative by its modern definition, even though Baggini argues that atheism is positive.  This was more-or-less a quibbling over terms.  In this post, however, I will be offering my most critical remarks about the book by exploring its most crucial oversights.
Julian Baggini__Atheism_A Very Short Introduction
The Burden of Making Sweeping Claims

Whenever making general claims that a position has no good arguments or supporting evidence, one must be willing to consider the strongest possible evidence and arguments for such a position as defended by its most able proponents, not just cherry pick the weaker evidence and less careful arguments made by rash or inept proponents. The best way to make a rationally persuasive case against a position is to first accurately represent the strongest arguments for that position before deconstructing them.   This is always risky, since it could turn the audience–especially if they fail to keep reading the subsequent critique.  It seems counter-intuitive, but the first step to attacking or debunking a view is to first argue in favor of it—that is, to do one’s best to take on the mindset of its most able proponents and state the strongest possible case for their position.  This (by the way) is also risky for the one making the arguments against it (not just for the audience they are trying to persuade) since often when one goes to such great lengths to fairly represent one’s interlocutor, not only can one’s critique be more transparently assessed by judging whether any part of the argument hinges on a misunderstanding or misrepresentation, but it has the potential to alleviate ignorance, misunderstandings, and (the best part) dogmatism.  It’s always easier to make a case against a view one has not studied very carefully from its most able proponents.  All too often the exchanges between those holding contrary positions are more like lobbed grenades or dumb bombs than accurate sniper fire or smart bombs.

An expositional prelude of the kind I am advocating for here demands patience, good-will, virtue, and a lot of time, but it adds maximum credibility to the subsequent critique.  Such a strategy also has the greatest potential to convince the very audience that isn’t already persuaded because it assures them first that their views have been well understood.  It’s the best method for meeting the preconditions for genuine dialogue and exchange.  If you can explain your philosophical/theological opponents view or argument in detail as well or better than even they can, your arguments against it are much more likely to be both appreciated and respected by the target audience you wish to engage and persuade.  Sometimes it seems as if the goal of those who argue against other positions is not to persuade at all, but to shore up the confidence of those who already agree, which seems to imply a bit of insecurity.

Unfortunately, most people who go to the trouble of arguing against a position have a strong incentive to not make the counter view sound as persuasive as it could possibly sound in the hands of its most able defenders.  Instead, distortions of a position and how it’s argued for are the norm—-even among academicians.  Straw-man fallacies are often unintentional: the result of a blind spot or a disconnect in perspectives.  Throw into this a lot of ignorance and rhetoric and you have a recipe for dogmatism and unproductive polemics.

Does Baggini Consider the Strongest Counter Evidence?

Thankfully Baggini is well educated and appears to do a decent job throughout most of his book in achieving a fair representation of the views he’s arguing against, but there are some serious oversights in the book.  For example, when he considers the “counter-evidence” on the question of life after death, he mentions only 1) the testimony of mediums, 2) supposed appearances of ghosts, and 3) near-death experiences. Then he concludes “there really isn’t any stronger evidence” (19).  Just mentioning the types of counter evidence, Baggini figures, is enough to make his case. He doesn’t care to unpack the supposed ghosts sightings or analyze the testimony of mediums. He doesn’t take these types of evidence very seriously.

Unfortunately, it just happens to be that the cornerstone of Christian apologetics does not fit any of these “counter-evidence” categories he lists, but bases its argument on the historical evidence for the resurrection of Jesus. Christian scholars have often put together rather impressive historical arguments that would appear to construe the known evidence in such a way that the resurrection hypothesis best fits the historical data. This does not mean the hypothesis is true or that critiques of such historical arguments are not available, but it remains the strongest type of evidence (historical) for the Christian position, yet Baggini fails to even consider it. [NOTE: Christian’s do not believe Jesus was a “ghost” so the second item on his list does not cover this type of argument.]  In fact, nowhere in his book does he ever tackle what is treated by Christians as the strongest evidence for their position, yet the overall argument of the book is that only the “weaker” types of counter-evidence can be found against naturalism, making this oversight problematic for his entire strategy. If one says only weak arguments can be found for a position, one had better consider what the most able proponents who hold that position think are the strongest arguments for it.  (I could also bring up Intelligent Design theory which I would consider as far better of an argument than the testimony of mediums, supposed appearances of ghosts, and near-death experiences, but I’m going to stick with the resurrection hypothesis here since I’m not as familiar with the ID literature).

For example, on this topic one would have to offer good counter arguments to the arguments of respected scholars like Larry W. Hurtado, Richard Bauckham and N.T. Wright to name a few.  These are scholars who are respected by collegues in their secular fields of historical work, not just the Christian community.  Since Baggini is not a historian but a philosopher, his best counter argument move for this would be to appeal to other historians who have expert critiques for these arguments. His argument would only be as good as the historical experts he would be forced to rely on, which could be a good or a bad thing depending on how soundly the arguments of the likes of Bauckham and Hurtado have been represented and critiqued in those sources.  To be truly on top of things, one would also want to see what counter-arguments have been made by these authors to their critics.  All too often defenders of a position respond: “I’ve already answered that objection in chapter X of my book.”  If nobody is taking the time to carefully read where their opponents have already answered their objections, no real dialogue or fruitful exchange can even get off the ground.

If you are thinking, “That sounds like a ton of work,” your right, but when making a sweeping claim that no good arguments exist for a position, this is the type of “homework” that would make such a claim credible—especially to those who are familiar with the best proponents of such a position. To put it another way, Christians who are steeped in the historical literature of the scholars I mentioned (or others with the same pedigree) would find it easy to dismiss Baggini’s claim that no good arguments exist for life after death, since the arguments they stand on don’t even seem to be on Baggini’s radar. And this just so happens to be the case with Christianity.

Does Baggini Fairly Represent Opposing Arguments?

This is not the only place Baggini appears to lack a familiarity with the strongest counterpositions. Another major oversight in his book can be found in his representation of the idea that divine authority or divine law is somehow required to “uphold” ethics.  How he understands the position he argues against can be seen in the summary statement of his position at the beginning of the chapter:

Morality is more than possible without God, it is entirely independent of him. That means atheists are not only more than capable of leading moral lives, they may even be able to lead more moral lives than religious believers who confuse divine law and punishment with right and wrong. (37)

The rest of the chapter mainly establishes that (1) people have to always make their own subjective decisions on what moral codes to adopt or not adopt and (2) atheists have plenty of resources to draw from for ethics and can even be more ethical than religious believers.  [NOTE: The best part of this chapter is his engagement with the Euthyphro Dilemma where he considers a common counter-argument to his critique.]

As to (1), Baggini is mistaken that the “inescapability of personal choice” means that “the atheist and the believer are therefore in the same boat” (41, 43).  It’s true that personal choice is inevitable, but I’ve never met a theist who argued that divine law and personal choice were incompatible.  The theist perspective is about better aligning one’s subjective decisions with the objective moral code. The theists argue that in the atheist scenario there is no possibility for an ultimately objective moral standard or code, so one’s personal choices about what morality to adopt have no potential to ever be objectively right or wrong.  With religious morality it is possible in theory (even if not in practice) for the theist to attain to a subjective adoption of what is objectively right. “Objective” in this sense transcends any type of objectivity that is possible with an atheist morality, for the divine moral code transcends national and cultural morality. It also transcends the evolution of practiced morality across time. Baggini thinks that establishing that subjective decisions are inevitable when it comes to morality somehow makes the type of objective morality claimed by theists impossible, but this does not follow, since if the theist perspective is true, the subjective attainment of an objective moral code is at least possible. Various religions supposedly provide the “true” path to attaining such objective morality. That’s what makes them very different from any type of morality possible in an atheist worldview.

As for (2) Baggini appears to miss the thrust of the argument made in the most respected Christian literature, which isn’t that atheists cannot be moral or ethical in practice.  I’ve never heard or read any such claims in even the least sophisticated of religious literature.  The argument put forth is that without a divine moral code in theory one cannot ground their morality or ethics objectively in a way that transcends one’s personal preference, culture or time. In fact, part of the theistic argument’s bite is supposed to come from the fact that atheists actually do adhere to and expect others to treat as objective certain moral principles. As the argument goes, atheists therefore are a walking contradiction because they have no philosophical grounds for saying anything is objectively right or wrong, but only right or wrong for them or perhaps for a particular group of people at a particular time in the evolution of the human species.  They have no right or grounds to judge the moral actions of others.  One may be able to ground atheist morality so that it is not restricted to only oneself by appeal to evolution, which opens up the possibility for a certain moral code to (in theory) hold for a tribe or group of people at a particular time in the evolution of human history, but this still grounds morality in subjective and changing circumstances.

Murder and rape of humans, for example (as the argument goes), cannot be objectively wrong in the atheist perspective. In theory, at some point in the development of human history a unanimous consensus could potentially accept it as wrong, but this would only be a limited and fragile consensus based on the changing circumstances of an ever-evolving species. One might try to argue based on Aristotelean teleology, for example, that murder and rape of humans is a counter productive practice to the ultimate telos of human happiness as we now know it, but what makes people happy could change from person to person, and culture to culture, and generation to generation. Furthermore, is happiness really the ultimate telos for humans anyway? Can one know simply based on the fact that all humans want to be happy? If a desire for happiness is currently an inescapable part of human nature, this does not mean it’s the only inescapable part of human nature or the most important one.  Furthermore, we must remember that because of evolution human nature is always in flux.  It has changed in the past, it’s changing now, and it will change in the future. Basing morality in human nature appears to fallaciously ground what ought to be on what is the case. In the Aristotelian morality described by Baggini, one bases what he or she ought to do on what humans appear to inescapably desire. We are still a long way from the type of objective morality possible within a theist view, especially one where God writes these moral codes on stone tablets to make them clear as in Judaism or Christianity.

One of the bonuses of this book comes from the fact that although Baggini is familiar with streams of philosophical and theological literature, he makes a decision to leave out footnotes (for the most part) “to avoid scholastic sterility.” This works to his advantage for most of the book. However, when one fails to follow this “strict academic” guideline, one’s writing becomes vulnerable to the flaws that remind us why it’s such a “strict academic” guideline. His arguments portray a lack of familiarity and misunderstanding with the most able proponents of the counter-evidence to his position. Reading and carefully citing these proponents would’ve been a better move here for Baggini, and would lessen one of the most regrettable gaps in academia—the one where people speak past each other when they hold disparate views on a topic. Closing the gap requires not only good will (which I believe Baggini has) but also a copious amount of reading in books written by those who hold views directly opposed to the one you seek to defend. This is why the road is very, very rarely traveled.

Is Atheism Really a Positive Worldview? :: Book Review of Julian Baggini’s book Atheism: A Very Short Introduction

I have so far offered almost nothing but praise and appreciation for Julian Baggini’s book Atheism: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford University Press, 2003), 119 pp.  I have carefully summarized his definition of, and case for, atheism.  As promised, I have begun now to offer my evaluations of his book.  In my last post I argued that theists should be able to appreciate the kind of atheism Baggini presents in this book, whether they disagree with him or not.  In this post I will begin to specify some areas of his arguments that I found unconvincing.
Julian Baggini__Atheism_A Very Short Introduction
Is Atheism Really a Positive Worldview?
Disclaimer: I am using “worldview” in most generic of ways here.  If you don’t think atheism should be categorized as a “worldview” (as some give reason for) then replace the word with “position” and it will not change the intention of my post.
As I’ve already mentioned, I appreciate Baggini’s move to reclaim atheism in terms of naturalism rather than as an “anti-God” position.  However, his argument is not that natrualism is a positive worldview.  Rather, his argument is that atheism is a positive worldview.  But then he admits that the very definition of atheism is fundamentally negative: “the belief that there is no God or gods” (3).  If this is the definition of atheism, such a definition is hardly congenial to Baggini’s argument.  If he wants atheism to no longer be seen as an essentially negative worldview, it seems the definition would need to be fundamentally altered to mean something like “the belief that nature encompasses all of what is real,” which is something like the current definition for naturalism.  Such an alternative definition would imply that anything supernatural is not real (gods, God, angels, demons, ghosts, transcendental worlds, etc.), but this aspect of the position would only be a negative by-product or implication of a more positive central affirmation.  Furthermore, even when considering its implicitly negative aspect, the denial of the existence of God or gods in particular would be a further consequence following from the denial of all things supernatural in general.  This would successfully place the denial of God or gods at least two steps removed from the central affirmation, removing the acute anti-God flavor from the very definition of the term.  The problem is this: Baggini’s argument is not that atheism should be redefined positively.  He is arguing that atheism (as it is currently defined) already is a positive worldview in spite of his own admission that atheism is negative by its very definition.
This is also the problem with his counter to the argument that atheism is essentially negative.  He claims such an argument is committing the etymological fallacy.  The etymological fallacy is when someone infers something about the current meaning of a word not by its modern usage, but by its historical derivation.  This would be like saying that the English word nice comes from the Latin nescius which actually means “ignorant,” therefore to say something is nice is to say it’s ignorant.  The origins of the grammatical form of a word may give clues to its current usage and meaning, but not necessarily.  If one assumes the current usage or meaning must be based on the words historical derivation (or if a compound word like “hourseplay” by simply combining the current meanings of the two words) this is a fallacy of reasoning.  But saying that atheism is negative by its modern definition (not by any semantic derivations) is not a fallacy.  To know whether atheism is fundamentally a negative position, one need look no further than today’s Webster’s Dictionary.   For this reason his strategy for reclaiming the word or position of atheism as something essentially positive seems futile for the further reason that it’s based on a dubious understanding of the etymological fallacy.
I could agree that the worldviews of atheists can be positive (consisting in a diversity of affirmations that are more important for the atheist than his or her denial of the existence of God or gods), but I’m afraid atheism per se is negative by definition.  Furthermore, even if for Baggini this negative component (the denial of the existence of God or gods) is not what defines his personal worldview, it is easy to conceive that there would be plenty of atheists for whom this denial would be of central importance.   Theists can have negative worldviews while atheists have positive ones, and vice versa.  But when we ask the question “Is such and such a worldview positive or negative?” we must limit such an inquiry to what is essential or necessary to atheism, not what could or could not be the case with those who hold it.  Although Baggini admits there is no a priori link between atheism and a positive or negative worldview, he nevertheless insists that atheism consists in “numerous beliefs about the world” not just the denial of the existence of a God or gods (11, 8).  This kind of language betrays his own prior admission and takes atheism beyond its proper sphere, confusing what positive beliefs atheists can potentially hold with what atheism per se actually consists in.
In my next post I will continue with an evaluation of Baggini’s overall argument, and point out what I believe is the most important oversight of his book.

Can A Theist Appreciate Baggini’s Atheism? :: Book Review of Julian Baggini’s book Atheism: A Very Short Introduction

In the year 2013, all my posts have been a summary of Julian Baggini’s book Atheism: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford University Press, 2003), 119 pp.  I have carefully summarized his definition of, and case for, atheism.  As promised, I will now offer my evaluation of his book.  It is my contention that theists (and those committed to any religious faith tradition) should be able to appreciate the kind of atheism Baggini presents in this book, whether they disagree with him or not.

Julian Baggini__Atheism_A Very Short Introduction

Baggini’s approach to atheism is a breath of fresh air that should assure religious believers that not all atheism is as hostile to Christianity as Rickard Dawkins’ brand of militant atheism.  Set against such recent aggressive anti-religious developments in atheism, Baggini’s book is exemplary for fair treatment, right attitude, and more charitable posturing overall.  This is the most important aspect of his book and it fits with his chief purpose for writing the book—namely, to provide an introduction to atheism that is “not simply about rubbishing religious belief” (7).  I therefore sympathize greatly with his attempt to redefine atheism as naturalism so it can be viewed more broadly rather than being so narrowly and negatively construed as anti-God.  Baggini has summarized well the historical treatments of others who have (rightly I think) tied atheism to naturalism and recognized how the social context of the Enlightenment redefined atheism as anti-religous at a time when all religious beliefs were becoming more and more open to public critique after a long period of the ideologically oppressive political policies of medieval Christendom.  I can agree with Baggini that it is narrow-minded to reduce a naturalist’s worldview down to its negative component of atheism (the denial of the existence of God or gods), just as I would think that it is narrow minded for a Muslim to consider a Christian anti-Muhhamad.  Such reductionist labeling can feed into prejudices and hinder mutual respect and productive dialogue.  On the other hand, as I will explore later, I don’t necessarily think the argument Baggini advances in order to accomplish his redefinition of the word “atheism” is sound (but more about that later).

Several insights from Baggini’s treatment of atheism stand out as exceptionally helpful or persuasive, so here I offer some examples.

Are There Good Grounds to Distrust Interpretations of Religious Experience? 

First, he helpfully starts out by defining what he thinks a good case for something will consist of: evidence and argument.  When trying to make a good case or argument for the truth of something, it is not fair, he argues, to give what he calls “anecdotal evidence” (or what we might call “private evidence”) more weight than the type of evidence that can be publicly verified since “human beings are not very good at interpreting their experiences” (14).  It seems that Christian evangelicals committed to an exclusivist worldview would have to agree here, since if this version of Christianity is true (and Jesus is the “only way”) this means all the other religions of the world who base their belief in religious experiences have grossly misinterpreted them.  For example, what should a Christian say to a Muslim who claims God revealed to his heart that Islam was the true religion when he fasted and prayed for a week straight?  What if this Muslim also says that God has assured him that the Koran (and not the Christian Bible) is the Word of God?  It seems to me that evangelicals who hold to exclusivists positions ideologically (i.e. that only Christianity is true and all other religions false) have no choice but to admit with Baggini that human beings in general are not good at interpreting their experiences—especially religious experiences.  How can Muslims be so skeptical about the religious experiences of Christians (or vice versa), but be so confident in their own?

Does Science Make Belief in the Immortality of the Soul Problematic?

Second, I have to agree with Baggini that the correlation of brain activity with consciousness is problematic for belief in human souls that retain consciousness apart from brain activity.  If the human soul, for example, is supposed to be the core-most part of human nature, processing and retaining the deepest memories and feelings of the human person even after death apart from the firing of neurons in the brain, then why is Alzheimer’s disease so prevalent?  All science shows a dependency of consciousness on brain activity, but if human persons remain fully conscious after death via the soul why does the soul seem unable to retain memories for those with Alzheimer’s disease?  Here it seems that views of consciousness after death are problematic in light of the dependency relationship established by science between consciousness and brain activity.  This area of science is forcing some evangelicals, for example, to rethink their interpretation of biblical language about souls to accommodate the scientific data.  I stop short of agreeing with Baggini that the strongest evidence for consciousness after death is the “testimony of mediums, supposed appearances of ghosts, and near-death experiences,” but more on that later (19).

It seems impossible to contest that the traditional Christian anthropology of body-soul dualism is problematic because it requires one to believe that “non-material thinking souls exist along side brains and somehow interact with them, and that, further, the dependency of consciousness on brain activity miraculously disappears at death, when the soul lives on without the body” (30).  And yet even as Baggini makes this argument, he does not overstep the evidence by arguing that it is irrational to believe in life after death, that there is no evidence at all for it, or that it is not possible that science could be surprised in the future by discovering something new that could shed new light on this question and overturn what is now overwhelming evidence for the morality of human consciousness.  Rather, he argues more modestly that while there is this possibility and some evidence for life after death, nevertheless compared with the stronger evidence for human mortality, evidence for immortality of human souls is much weaker.

I cannot recall ever reading such a carefully fair handed way of putting this secular argument where Baggini appears to be conceding in every place he can think to concede to the other side.  His example in this should be followed by religious philosophers and naturalist philosophers alike.  This is what makes Baggini’s atheism different: as a matter of principle, he always leaves room for his own views to be wrong (or “defeasible” if you like the philosophical term he chooses).  “There is no way either can be so sure they are right,” he concludes (24).  Absolute certainty is not possible, but Baggini is content to hold that his view has much stronger evidence.

Is Induction a Superior to Religious Experience? 

Third, when one compares the cohesive developments of scientific understanding with the diversity of religious belief in the world, I must admit with Baggini, the scientific understanding seems to have more continuity globally than does religious understanding.  Although certainly there are disagreements and different schools of thought in science, there is nothing like the full blown comprehensive, fundamental, and irreconcilable contradictions that exist between different religious traditions in the world.  In fact, people from radically different religious traditions often find themselves able to work harmoniously side by side in the field of science so long their methodology for inquiry is restricted to “evidence and argument.”  They can put their religious differences aside taking for granted the same scientifically established truths on which they base their further scientific inquiries.  It seems reasonable to suppose that such cohesion in the discipline of science is largely owing to the chief method of inquiry: induction (28).  Approaching the world with the question “What is the best explanation for the observable phenomenon of the world and the universe?” is very different than how most people go about choosing or deciding on a religious commitment (at least in modern times), which more often has to do with making sense of one’s own personal experiences of the world rather than global or universal phenomenon in general (which would need to include the personal and social experiences of people in general—including those of other religious commitments).

Few people (if any) decide on a religious commitment only after a substantial logical inquiry into which worldviews make the most sense of phenomenon in general, taking the time to investigate and compare the claims of the worlds major religious traditions against the critiques of skeptics and then to also compare these with the most philosophically careful secular, agnostic, and naturalistic accounts of the world and universe.  Religious commitments are almost always made without any such rigorous intellectual interest; they are usually on the basis of deep personal and/or social experience.  That is not to say that scientists never have social or personal biases that motivate them to choose a secular or naturalist worldview over against a religious one, for it is inevitably the case that experience has a potentially (if not necessarily) determinative role to play in shaping the motives and perspectives of everyone.  If we wanted to get technical, I suppose one’s motive to be “logical” could itself be construed as the result of personal or social experience in a number of ways.  For example, it could be argued that human nature is hard-wired to be logical (some more than others) and that personal experience can shape how central of a role this innate desire plays in determining one’s desires or actions.

Nevertheless, on the whole the testimony of religious believers is explicitly based on personal experience while the influence of such personal and social experiences usually are negligible or peripheral in the self-understanding of atheists and scientists committed to naturalism or else they are mentioned only in connection with how such experiences helped them see that religion does not make the best logical or scientific sense of phenomenon.  The ostensible aim of people like Baggini is to be as rational as possible and restrict their beliefs to what best explains all or most of the evidence.  Such is rarely the self-understanding of religious believers.  Christians, for example, may make this the goal of their apologetic discipline which seeks to defend Christian beliefs against critics, but such is rarely (if ever) the stated goal of their decision to commit their lives to follow Christ; such a telos is also not the stated goal of Christianity.

As best as I can tell, reconciling one’s faith with logic and science is something a religious believer can (and in some religious traditions should) explore, but such reconciliation is never (and in most religions never should be) the ground of their religious faith commitments.  In the discipline of apologetics reason is restricted to defending what faith is already committed to, whereas for the naturalist reason’s role is much more comprehensive, central, and ideologically and teleologically fundamental.  It should not be surprising, therefore, to find that two scientists from different parts of the world who may be in different fields of scientific study, or two naturalists (whether scientists or philosophers or otherwise) would have world views more similar to one another than two religious believers each committed to a different religion.  We all have our psychological reasons for being motivated to either be religious or not be religious, but the aim to be logical or obtain “the best explanation” plays a much more controlling role in the psyche of some than in others, and it would be helpful (and humble) if religious believers could admit this.

Religious believers, whose self-understanding of their own purpose in the world is usually part of a grandiose religious and sacred telos (e.g. to glorify God, do the will of Allah, to be one with a transcendent reality, to achieve Nirvana, to “save” the world) are probably tempted to see the atheist telos of merely ensuring that they be as rational as possible as quite petty in comparison.  Athiests are probably tempted to think of the religious telos as irrational and delusional.  To Baggini’s credit, while he believes Atheism is more rational, he explicitly denies that religious believers are irrational or delusional (he avoids this kind of language and criticizes other atheists for using it).  Religious believers should return the respect and humility of Baggini by avoiding the temptation to think of the Atheist telos as being petty or prideful, and respect that they are trying their best to live in conformity with their own human nature, which is hard-wired to reason and be rational.

Is Atheism a Better Explanation for Religious Pluralism?

Fourth, not unrelated to this, I sympathize to some degree when Baggini argues that atheism has the best explanatory power when it comes to the existence of divergent religious beliefs, holding that the easiest explanation for such religious pluralism is one that views religions as creative human constructions.  Admittedly, the attempts of each religious tradition to explain the existence of other religious traditions is highly problematic.  It seems to force religious traditions to either hold that the other major religious traditions are wrong and only one happened to get it right (a view that requires a convoluted explanation for why this sort of a thing happened), or else so downplay the importance of these differences that the distinctive truth claims of each tradition are either lost or so generic that they are stripped of any strong supernatural metaphysical claims.  When such metaphysical claims are tossed aside one is left with bare-bone ethical claims like: “we should love our neighbor” or “community should be valued above all”).

It should not be missed, however, that in viewing all these religions as mere human constructions, one must hold that any substantial arguments seeking to establish supernatural phenomenon (especially the historical claim about the resurrection of Jesus made by scholars of respectable standing within a secular discipline) must be weighed carefully (something Baggini does not explore in his summary treatment).  Furthermore, if there were a religious theory that accommodated all scientific inquiry yet at the same time generically validated in some significant way religious experience (while viewing their particular cultural expressions as less important), this too would have to be weighed carefully.  And here I am wondering, of course, what Baggini would make of the well known pluralist hypothesis of the recently deceased analytic philosopher John Hick.  The subtle nuances of Hick’s pluralist hypothesis avoid claims that all religions are different paths to the same truth and accepts as a starting point the contradictory claims of the world’s major religious traditions, views that Baggini rightly excludes as untenable.  What if such a theory had an equal ability to accommodate scientific knowledge but without the problem of having to dismiss religious experience as illusory?  Would such a theory have more explanatory power than the naturalist worldview?

I suspect that Baggini would here value the rule of simplicity above all, and argue this rule is more important than the problem of dismissing as entirely illusory the global phenomenon of religious experience.  But then we must ask: Is that really the simplest explanation of this phenomenon—that the majority of persons are shaped by illusory experiences whereas naturalists are the only ones who get it right?  Baggini does not seem to be at all bothered by this position which could be seen as also problematic.  Could Hick’s hypothesis (taken in its most generic form) be considered as having greater explanatory power?  Could it be less problematic to view such globally ubiquitous religious experiences as indicating a higher reality not to be confused with a personal deity or deities but nevertheless uncongenial to the scope of normal human perception that explains why religious experiences are so common and transformative?  Sure such an explanation is not necessary since one can always hold religious views are entirely delusory.  But could such an explanation make more sense of the global phenomenon of religious experience and be less problematic?  I doubt Baggini would think so, but when he argues that the only alternative to his view is to view one religion as being true while all other religions are false, he doesn’t exactly construe the options as generously as he could.  Nevertheless, it seems undeniable that religious pluralism makes the most common forms of religious commitments, which are usually to a particular Religious Tradition rather than a philosophical hypothesis, problematic.

Fifth, I agree with Baggini that it is misleading when religious believers argue that atheists must have “faith” since they cannot prove their atheism because (as Baggini points out) “proof” in this sense is not attainable for the “vast majority of most beliefs” (31).  It is a question of interest to what extent the notion of “faith” in the worlds religious traditions values or encourages belief that is not based on evidence or reasoned argument.  For example, in both the Bible and the Christian Tradition this way of viewing faith seems to be a part of the religious perspective: Abraham’s faith was exemplary precisely because he believed the unbelievable (i.e. that which seemed to go against reason): that he would be the father of many descendants even though he and his wife were of a ripe old age and as of yet had no children.  The famous Christian theologian and preacher John Chrysostom defined faith’s key element as believing God’s revelation without needing any human arguments to establish it.  “Faith” is probably being misused when it describes believing in something that one has good evidence and reason to believe but lacks indisputable “proof” (like believing that the sun will rise tomorrow, that frozen sidewalks outside will be slippery today, that other people you know have minds and are not cleverly constructed robots that imitate human behavior and cognition).  It seems right to reserve the word “faith” in the common vernacular to refer to belief in God, miracles, transcendent realities and deities in the absence of the “ordinary support of evidence or argument” and therefore either go beyond reason or [at least seem to go] against it (33).  The field of apologetics in the Christian worldview that seeks defend Christian faith need not be taken to presuppose that one must have good evidence and argument before one accepts faith, but can be seen rather as more of a defense mechanism against attacks of skeptics who claim that Christian faith is irrational, as Baggini understands it (93).

The author’s respect for religious belief in spite of his strong conviction that it’s wrong continues throughout the book, never letting up.  He admits that many intelligent people are religious; faith cannot be simply dismissed as foolish superstition (92).  He cites Christian philosopher Peter Vardy who points out that Aquinas would not have thought of his arguments for the existence of God so much as “stand alone” proofs but as attempts to reconcile faith and reason by showing faith is not contrary to the evidence.  Whether it is the best fit for the evidence may be considered quite another question.  Few skeptics (or religious believers for that matter) recognize this subtle distinction, but Baggini seems attentive to it out of respect and courtesy.  If we compare this attitude to dogmatic religious apologists who often accuse all atheists of being foolishly irrational and deviously suppressing their knowledge of God so they can indulge in sin and rebellion against God’s authority, we can appreciate all the more how Baggini’s tone and posture is in many ways more virtuous than those who would sharply disagree with him.  His insight that those seeking and using arguments that support faith often are already convinced that they know for certain their faith is true based on their religious experience is accurate and helps put debates in their proper perspective.  I must concur that “arguments don’t provide the reasons why people become religious” (93).  But occasionally I have heard of skeptics of Christianity who are engaged or challenged by apologists and as a result of the exchange they eventually come also to believe, thinking that their reasons for not believing were mistaken.  Several considerations, however, prevent me from concluding this necessarily makes an exception to this claim.  First, what stops such a person from simply withholding judgement until they have examined all world religions carefully and weighted them against one another to see which one is the most coherent with itself and all that we know about the world and universe?  Second, Christian apologists who specialize in attempting to make a case for their faith will argue that someone’s decision to become a Christian is never (and never should be) based merely on intellectual reasons alone, but must be the result of some deeper motive in the recesses of the human soul or heart.  Third, those who I have heard give testimony about having been skeptical about Christianity but of having became open to it through logic or reason end up interpreting this experience as more than just a decision to choose what seemed like the most rational choice among worldview options, but also inevitably look back on this conversion as something they were moved by a supernatural power to do.  I would argue that the controlling psychological principle in play when someone makes a religious commitment is never a purely intellectual interest in being as rational as possible and choosing what makes the best sense of the most evidence.  How one would describe this principle that moves people to religious conviction will depend on the assumptions they bring to such an interpretation.

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In this post I have focused on areas where I found Baggini to be exemplary and his thoughts insightful and helpful.  In my next post I will begin to focus on my critical remarks concerning some of the details of Baggini’s book.

Concluding Remarks :: Book Review of Julian Baggini’s book Atheism: A Very Short Introduction

Is Atheism the same as Humanism?  If not, what is the difference?  Who are the major atheist thinkers of history and what are some of the different approaches or lines of inquiry for studying atheism further?  In our summary of Julian Baggini’s book Atheism, we have already covered how to better define atheism, explored his summary of the case for atheism, examined how both ethics on the one hand, and meaning and purpose on the other, can be integrated into an atheist worldview, looked at how Baggini uses history to advance his case for atheism, summarized how Baggini critiques some of the traditional arguments for the existence of God and why he thinks such arguments and counter arguments are not decisive for either theism or atheism.  Now we will summarize his final remarks before offering an evaluation of his book. 

ImageChapter 7: Conclusion

Baggini closes his book by offering other lines of inquiry for those interested.  For example, he did not have time to explore the peculiar contributions and thoughts of the great thinkers (Hume, Nietzsche, Freud, etc.).  He avoided discussing “the more sophisticated defenses of theistic belief” (Plantinga and Cupitt) because he wanted a less antagonistic approach (108).  The science vs. religion issue is “a little tired” and is discussed many times over, but there are threats to religious belief from science Baggini did not have time to cover (109).  Another area of discussion not treated in this introduction is the claim made by many that religious belief is nonsensical or incoherent (claims brought to public attention by A.J. Ayer).  Staying faithful to his overarching concerns, he does not think such an approach (claiming religious beliefs are “gibberish rather than just false”) is the best way “to engage with religious believers” (109).

Humanism

Baggini admits that the label Humanism (which he defines as “simply atheists who believe in living purposeful and moral lives”) fits his “positive atheism” but would rather stick with the term “atheism” for purposes of clarity.  There are self-proclaimed “Christian humanists” and some atheists avoid the label “humanist” because they think being a member of a humanist organization is a “quasi-religious” endeavor.  Furthermore, there are anthropocentric ideologies that have been associated with humanism, but many atheists (like Baggini) don’t have any interest in glorifying homo sapiens as the superior species.  For these reasons Baggini prefers the word “atheist” over “Humanist” but will admit to being a humanist (with a lower case h).

Final Words

Although “in many ways, the whole purpose of the book has been to dispel this image” of atheism as sinister, the author claims atheism’s true dark side concerns the “scary” thought that no benevolent Father is out there watching over us who is unquestionably good.  This maturity of perspective is the loss of a child-like innocence and false sense of security.  Atheism accepts the harsher realities of life for what they are and does not “seek to shield us from the truth by myth and superstition” (111).

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In our next post I will offer my own evaluation of Baggini’s book as a whole.  This will include both criticism and laudatory remarks.  I will attempt to answer questions like: Does Baggini do justice to the rational defense for theism?  Do his arguments for why an atheist worldview can fit comfortably with ethics and meaning work?  Is Baggini’s less dogmatic atheism a better alternative to what he calls “militant” atheism?  What are the strengths and weaknesses of his approach?

Against Religion? :: Book Review of Julian Baggini’s book Atheism: A Very Short Introduction

What about arguments for the existence of God?  Are they sound? Is the faith of religious believers actually based on such rational arguments?  In our summary of Julian Baggini’s book Atheism, we have already covered how to better define atheism, explored his summary of the case for atheism, examined how both ethics on the one hand, and meaning and purpose on the other, can be integrated into an atheist worldview, and looked at how Baggini uses history to advance his case for atheism.  In this post, we will see how he critiques traditional arguments for the existence of God in untraditional fashion, placing emphasis on how one should keep the role of all such philosophical arguments in proper perspective.  Religious beliefs, he argues, come more from personal conviction, not from rational argument.

Atheism__A Very Short Introduction by Julian Baggini__image

Chapter 6: Against Religion?

Although this chapter is devoted to a suggestive critique of arguments for God’s existence, Baggini tactfully prefaces his critique by arguing that mere disagreement with religion does not make atheism “anti-religious.”  Unfortunately, argues Baggini, atheism has a negative brand as “anti-religious,” and religion is treated with more respect than atheism.

For example, he laments how a radio program in the UK called “Thought of the Day” allows religious figures a platform to speak to the culture where this same platform is denied to the prominent atheist associations and societies in the UK who have campaigned to allow non-religious viewpoints to also be given a slot (e.g. the British Humanist Association, the National Secular Society and the Rationalist Press Association).  Atheists are justified in feeling wronged and perceiving a prejudice in policy when such public forums exclude atheism from being given a platform to speak to matters of ethics and life-guidance.  But perhaps even more irritating is the fact that when these atheist-friendly organizations protested, it was sadly seen as an attack against religion, confirming and perpetuating the general prejudice against atheism.

Atheists are necessarily anti-religious in one sense only: they believe that religions are false.  But in this sense of the word ‘anti’ most Muslims are anti-Christian, most Christians anti-Jewish, most Protestants anti-Roman Catholic, and so on. … To set any group up as ‘anti’ another suggests more than disagreement, it suggests hostility, and atheists are no more required to be hostile to the religious than Jews are required to be hostile to Hindus. (92). 

With this warning in place, Baggini is now prepared to suggestively critique some of the traditional arguments for the existence of God.

Providing Perspective to the Role of Arguments

I mentioned that Baggini only offers a suggestive critique, but he also deliberately downplays the importance of such critiques, arguing that “evidence and arguments are neither here nor there – it is personal conviction that really counts” (93).  In the end, people do not become religious because arguments provide the grounds for their faith.  People become religious for personal reasons, but afterwards want to argue that such beliefs are rational—to show that being religious doesn’t entail throwing reason out the window.  Religious arguments are not so much to “prove” God exists as they are to merely show that religious belief isn’t nonsense.  So Baggini thinks religious arguments for God’s existence are designed to show that religious belief, although not required strictly by the “evidence” and reason, are at least consistent with them.

The Cosmological Argument

The cosmological argument goes something like this: everything must have a cause, especially the universe with all its complexity, and God is the best hypothesis to explain its existence.  It fails because it ends up hypothesizing an entity that undermines the reasons for the argument in the first place.  God is considered to be uncaused and even more complex than the universe.  If God can exist without a cause greater than himself, why can’t something less complex exist without a cause greater than itself?  “Either the principles that inform the argument stand or they don’t.  If they stand, then God requires a cause and the causal chain goes back ad infinitum.  If they don’t, then there is no need to hypothesize God” (95).

Furthermore, even if such an argument were allowed to work without God having a cause, we still don’t arrive at anything like any of the particular personal God’s of religions, but merely with an uncaused cause.  Typical religiously heavy notions of God therefore could be seen as rational possibilities, but by no means necessary from the evidence.  But that’s only if we are generously entertain the otherwise flawed reasoning that really shouldn’t be allowed to stand.

This type of argument is also problematic inasmuch as it fits the “God of the gaps” method of arguing for God—a method whereby something that we can’t explain yet with science allows a place for God to fill in the gap in our understanding.  But Baggini argues that “such a God is fast running out of place for believers to hide him” (95).

The Teleological Argument

The teleological argument utilizes the analogy of a watch.  The evidence of a watch naturally leads one to suppose there is a watchmaker because it’s an intricate mechanism that appears to be designed for a particular purpose.  But, Baggini argues, the analogy fails because the universe is not like a watch.  We know from experience watches are created by humans, we have no similar knowledge of the origins of the universe.  Furthermore, we know from science that the appearance of design in the world can be sufficiently explained by evolution.

In any case, it’s “anthropocentric” to think the creator of the universe is an ethically perfect omnideluxe version of ourselves (omnipresent, omnibenevolent, omniscient, etc.).  “Why shouldn’t it be something more abstract, not recognizable as the traditional God of religion at all?” (96).  As with the cosmological argument, Baggini concludes “it is not contrary to reason and evidence to believe that there is an intelligent mind behind all this.  But that is not to say there are positive reasons to believe that there is.  Those reasons are still elusive” (97).

What Then Justifies Belief?

Baggini gives these arguments “short shrift” because he’s sure that religious believers did not adopt their faith on the basis of them, but on the basis of inner conviction.

As Russell Stannard said, for the believer, it is as though they know God exists and no further arguments are required.  The leading Christian philosopher of religion Alvin Plantinga calls this faith, understood as ‘a special source of knowledge, knowledge that can’t be arrived at by way of reason alone’.  … If this is indeed the ground of religious belief, then it is disingenuous for believers to put forward arguments to support their beliefs.  Similarly, it is futile for atheists to attack the religious with arguments undermining these reasons for belief if they are not genuine reasons for belief at all. … I personally have little interest in trying to destroy these convictions, except when the holding of them leads to unpleasant and bigoted actions and proclamations, as can be the case with fundamentalist believers of all religions.  (98-99).

We have to recognize, however, that reliance on inner conviction rather than rational argument is a “risky” strategy.  This is because we must acknowledge that reliance on personal inner conviction leads to a multiplicity of religious faiths, not one in particular.  Trusting one’s inner conviction has led to Muslim beliefs, Christian beliefs, Buddhist beliefs, etc.  The fact that the same grounds of faith can be used to justify different and incompatible religions is a sufficient reason to discredit such grounds as a proper method for arriving at religious belief.

Militant Atheism

Not only does Baggini argue that atheism is not “anti-religious” and has carefully downlpayed his critiques of theistic arguments for the existence of God, he also wants to critique what he calls militant atheism, which he defines as “atheism which is actively hostile to religion” in general (not just fundamentalist religions).  Such atheism is characterized by its position that all religion is nonsense and by its desire to “wipe out all forms of religious belief” (101).

The problem in making this charge stick, however, is that the disagreement between believers and atheists if often precisely about the proper limits of rationality and evidence in belief.  The believer sees the atheists’ refusal to believe in anything that is not established by the ordinary standards of argument and evidence as too narrow.  …  The upshot of this line of argument is that religion may be irrational by certain standards, but then so much for those standards. (101-02)

The Problem of Evil

In addition to positive arguments for the existence of God, there are also classical defenses for the so-called “problem of evil.”  This problem is easy enough to understand: God is all powerful and all loving, so why should evil and suffering exist?  Either God’s not powerful enough to stop it, or else he is not good enough to want to stop it.  But, as Baggini points out, the classical defense is this: “God can stop it and wants to stop it but doesn’t because it is better for us in the long run that such suffering exists.”  The author emphasizes again, however, as with all apologetics, “the argument only serve[s] the needs of the believer” already committed to their faith in a good and all powerful God (103).

But crucially, many religious believers would be prepared to live with the inexplicability of evil if they could not find a decent theodicy.  For many believers, the existence of God is like the existence of time – they believe it exists even if its existence seems to generate logical paradoxes.  For the atheist, the problem of evil demands an answer, and an inability to provide a good one adds to the case against God’s existence.  For the believer, a solution would be nice, but is not necessary.  For militant atheists, this is evidence that religious believers have effectively opted out of the usual standards of truth or falsity.  Their refusal to be bothered by seeming contradictions shows that they are essentially irrational in their beliefs. (104). 

Dogmatism vs. The Quiet Voice of Reason

Baggini sympathizes with the militant atheist position but refrains from joining its ranks as a matter his principle to always avoid dogmatism.  “Because there are no standards for judging these questions shared by atheists and believers, I think that simply asserting that one’s own standards must be right is dogmatic” (104).

Furthermore, the militant atheist position usually ends up arguing that religion should be wiped off the map because it’s harmful for one of the following reasons:  1) believing what is false is always harmful, 2) it’s life-denying rather than life-affirming by the way it encourages people to deny their this-worldly desires for a future world or afterlife, 3) religion’s benign effects cannot be separated neatly from its harmful ones.  To this the author responds: 1) if we are hostile to every belief we considered false “the world would be a terrible place” full of dogmatism, 2) not all religious belief fit’s the “life-denying” characterization and many religious people seem to lead quite full and happy lives in this world, and 3) this argument could apply to all beliefs that have both moderate and extreme forms, delegitimizing beliefs that even atheists like Baggini value (104-106).

Being open-minded in one’s rational inquiry includes not being dogmatic the way militant atheism requires.  We cannot see reason and argument as weapons to bash religion or else we become, ourselves, fundamentalists in our own right, argues Baggini.

The best we can do therefore is to show believers who may think that they have rational grounds for their belief that they are wrong.  We can force them to choose, in other words, between taking the risk of faith and restricting their use of reason to apologetics, or giving up their religious belief altogether.  I think that relatively few will take the second path.  But as more do so, and religious convictions become less and less likely to be passed on by parents, educators , and the Church, so the force of reason may generally hold more sway.  Religion will recede not by atheists shouting condemnation, but by the quiet voice of reason slowly making itself heard. (107).

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In the next post, I will summarize his concluding thoughts about different lines of further inquiry into atheism and why he prefers the words “positive atheism” rather than Humanism.

Atheism in History :: Book Review of Julian Baggini’s book Atheism: A Very Short Introduction

In our summary of Julian Baggini’s book Atheism, we have already covered how to better define atheism, explored his summary of the case for atheism, and even examined how both ethics on the one hand, and meaning and purpose on the other, can be integrated into an atheist worldview.  In this post, we will see how Baggini uses history to advance his case for atheism.

When and why did Atheism emerge in Western history?  To what extent is atheism to blame for the terrors of 20th-century totalitarianism in the Soviet Union, Nazi Germany, Italy, and Spain?  The answer to this first question will bolster the case for atheism, and the answer to the second will weaken objections to it.  Thus our author sets out in this chapter to continue to build his case for atheism by using history.

ImageChapter 5: Atheism in History

Atheism’s origins can be traced back as far as Ancient Greece, especially when we fully appreciate the connection between naturalism and atheism (see post “”).  If we can think of atheism as a positive belief that only the natural world exists (as opposed to some other world distinct from it like a non-natural or supernatural world), James Thrower’s argument in his book Western Atheism is on target.  Thrower argues that to understand the origins of atheism one must understand the origins of naturalism, which starts with the pre-Socratic Milesian philosophers of the 6th century BCE—Thales, Anaximander, and Anaximenes—who rejected mythological explanations in favor of naturalistic ones.

Baggini also believes “this therefore also marked the point where science began,” although we must make a distinction between this type of science and the more mature and rigorous experimental science we do today.  We might even make the distinction, as does Baggini, between a broader shift towards replacing mythology with rational explanation in general, and the replacement of mythology with science in particular.  Although science grows out of rational explanation, in both cases myth is replaced by rationality.  Rationality includes the use of historical evidence to explain the past as opposed to religious myth, and shouldn’t be confused with the more specific and ambitious movement of 17th century Rationalism-with-a-capital-R.  Atheism can be defined positively as naturalism, and because “naturalism follows from rationalism,” this makes rationalism fundamental to the origins of atheism (77).

A rational account is broadly one which confines itself to reasons, evidence and arguments that are open to scrutiny, assessment, acceptance or rejection, on the basis of principles and facts which are available to all.  An optimally rational account is one in which we don’t have to plug any gaps with speculation, opinion, or any other ungrounded beliefs. (76)

It would be inaccurate to say that atheists only believe in the existence of what can be rationally explained, as is often argued by those who say atheism is overly committed to reason.  There may be good reasons to believe something exists, even if how it exists cannot be fully explained—like consciousness for example.  But when it comes to entities like ghosts, we neither have any good reasons to suppose they exist, nor can we rationally explain how they exist.  At the very least we must have good reasons for supposing something exists to “believe” in it, even if how it exists cannot yet be rationally explained (77).  The alternative to this is to swing the door wide open to let in countless “irrational absurdities” (77).

Atheism is tied to rationalism, but it wasn’t until the Enlightenment that it emerged explicitly as an “avowed belief system” (78).  This is where David Berman’s history of atheism comes in handy, who argues that Baron d’Holbach’s The System of Nature (1770) was the “first unequivocally professed atheist in the Western Tradition” (78).  This is when the task to “present and promulgate a godless world view as an alternative to the religious one” began (79).  The author is careful to admit that a certain naiveté attended the period of Enlightenment concerning the power of reason.  Nevertheless this shift in authority certainly could be viewed as what helped atheism establish itself as an avowed belief system over against a religious one.  Atheism could be considered as “the fruit of the progression to Enlightenment values” (79).

We may have lost some of the Enlightenment’s optimism in the power of reason, but we would certainly not like to go back to a society based on superstition.  And although some may think that we have gone too far in our disrespect of authority, few seriously believe that we should go back to a time when office was inherited, when only the male middle classes were politically enfranchised, or when leading clerics wielded strong political power.  So despite its faults, the Enlightenment has to be seen by any reasonable person as an important stage in the progression of Western society, and its core ideals have triumphed. … Atheism takes the Enlightenment rejection of superstition, hierarchy, and rationally ungrounded authority to what many would see as its logical conclusion.  It certainly fits atheism’s self-image to say that, once we were prepared to look religion in the eye under the cool light of reason, its untruth became self-evident (79).

The author does not claim to have an “air-tight” case here, but says at the very least the emergence of modern atheism during the same historical period as the Enlightenment is difficult to be seen as purely coincidental, and can plausibly be seen as related.  This also helps explain why atheism has come to be defined negatively—the emergence of modern atheism took place in the context of a shift away from religious authority.

The rest of Baggini’s chapter is devoted to basically arguing that atheism per se is not to blame for the atrocities of 20th century totalitarianism.  For example, the most important of these regimes was Nazi Germany, yet in no way was Germany a “straightforwardly atheist state” (84).  Furthermore, the Catholic Church signed a concordat with the Nazi government in 1933 and “the collusion between the Protestant churches and the Nazi régime was even closer, helped by anti-Semitic tradition in German Protestantism” (84).  The fact that pastors like Dietrich Bonhoeffer were radicals in the church for opposing this collusion is an indication that such opposition was not the norm among Protestant churches.  Therefore, the historical fact of such pastors is not reason enough, argues Baggini, for Christians to celebrate.

Although Soviet communism was tied to atheism, it was tied more closely to the philosophy of Karl Marx.  “Communism,” argues Baggini, “is just one atheist belief, and certainly not the most popular one” (87).  The active oppression of religion enacted by Soviet communism was even against the philosophy of Marx since Marx himself believed the way to rid the world of religion was to create a state in which it’s comforts and consolations were no longer needed (87).  Furthermore, the Patriarchate of the Russian Orthodox Church overtly backed Stalin in very specific military initiatives according to historian Michael Bordeaux—such as the suppression of the Hungarian uprising (1956), the erection of the Berlin Wall (1961), and the invasion of Czechoslovakia (1968) and Afghanistan (1979).

In closing the author warns against militant or fundamentalist atheism that seeks to abolish religion by force as a “dangerous” position—just as dangerous as any other form of fundamentalism.  Baggini therefore prefers atheism to be expressed in a secular state rather than an atheist state.

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In our next post, we will examine why Baggini thinks that showing flaws in the traditional arguments for the existence of God doesn’t usually convince theists to give up their beliefs.

Atheist Purpose and Meaning :: Book Review of Julian Baggini’s book Atheism: A Very Short Introduction

We have examined how to better define atheism and the rational case for atheism according to author Julian Baggini.  In our last post, I summarized Julian Baggini’s own summary of atheist ethics.  In this post, I’m exploring his atheist perspective on meaning and purpose as presented in chapter 4 of his book Atheism: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford University Press, … Continue reading

Atheist Ethics :: Book Review of Julian Baggini’s book Atheism: A Very Short Introduction

We have looked at how to better define atheism and the rational case for atheism.  In this post I will summarize Julian Baggini’s own summary of atheist ethics, presented in chapter 3 of his book Atheism: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford University Press, 2003), 119 pp.  Where does morality come from?  How can people who don’t believe in God believe there are moral codes everyone should obey?  Does morality automatically make perfect sense in a theistic framework?  He answers these types of questions in this chapter.

What is Atheism?

Chapter 3: Atheist Ethics

Many people believe that in order for morality to be possible, one must have a lawgiver and a judge who either punishes or rewards, but Baggini says this confuses law and morality—laws can be either moral or immoral.  The big question is this: Where does morality come from?  The author makes his case against the theist view of morality by breathing fresh air into the Euthypryo dilemma from the Socratic dialogues: Does God (or the gods) choose what is good because it is good, or is the good good because God (or the gods) choose it?  If we answer this question by arguing that God just is goodness (God and good are the same thing), the Euthypryo dilemma only needs to be restated differently:

Is God good because to be good just is to be whatever God is; or is God good because God has all the properties of goodness?  If we choose the former answer we again find that goodness is arbitrary, since it would be whatever God happened to be, even if God were a sadist.  So we must choose the second option … this means the properties of goodness can be specified independently of God and so the idea of goodness does not in any way depend upon the existence of God. (39)

In other words, “God cannot be the source of morality without morality becoming something arbitrary” (39).  Furthermore, being moral due to fear of punishment or self-interest in reward only taints (if not ruins) the concept of morality, giving the atheist “more moral merit” than the theist (40).  But doesn’t this leave us all with our own “privatized moralities”?  Yes, answers Baggini, but to ask the question this way (as an objection) misses the point that we all inevitably have our own privatized moralities anyway because “individual choice is an inescapable part of morality whether one believes in God or not” (41).  There is no way to avoid making private decisions about what is morally right or wrong even in the theistic framework for morality, for two reasons: 1) one must make the privatized decision in the first place to follow the moral law of a religion—a decision which could later be changed or abandoned, 2) even while one has adopted a moral code of a particular religion, one still is forced to either accept these laws or reject them.  More to the point: since “listening to the advice of their holy men (it is usually men)” religious persons have been led to “suicide bombing, bigotry, and other moral wrongs, it should be obvious that” adopting a religious morality “does not absolve one of moral responsibility” (43).  In the end, we must all “in some sense ‘create’ values for ourselves” even if we are religious and have decided to follow the moral path laid out by that religion (46).

No Easy Answers for Grounding Morality 

Baggini finds the whole question “Why should I be moral?” strange.  There are no easy answers.  A non-moral answer to the question only undermines morality—for example, that we should be moral because we will be happier if we do or punished if we don’t.  Again, if we act moral out of self-interest, Baggini thinks we undermine morality because “morality is about acting in the best interest of others and oneself” (44).  If we give a moral answer “because we ought to do what is right” our reason becomes circular.  We shouldn’t expect an easy answer or source for morality that every rational person should recognize because no such answer exists.

At the root of morality is empathy and concern for the welfare of others that is, for most, a part of human instinct.  It’s not a logical impulse that leads us to morality, but a psychological one.  Yet if we accept it, we have a foundation for morality and the richness of Western philosophy provides a diversity of approaches for working this out.

Building a Godless Ethic

Aristotelian ethics helps us think about morality in terms of our desire for happiness and helps us see strategies for instilling virtues (although Baggini criticizes this model because he thinks any morality based on self-interest is problematic).  Nevertheless when we simply think of what we need in order for life to go well, morality comes into play.  Living well, however, and self-interest do not always coincide, so we need to draw from other sources of philosophy.

Utilitarianism can be another source: we think in terms of what causes pleasure and pain, then we evaluate our actions based on their consequences (both for ourselves and others).  So long as we agree that pain is bad, morality comes into play.  “Bad consequences thus provide reasons not to do certain actions and good consequences provide reasons to do others” (52).  This adds another “pillar upon which to build a godless morality” (52).

Another pillar is Kant’s categorical imperative: asking “what would happen if everyone behaved that way?”  This helps us think about the moral merit of an action apart from self-interest, which helps us avoid being hypocritical.  It’s obvious that Baggini favors this pillar above the others, for he already has shown his hand that he believes it is essential to morality to avoid self-interest.  “Some form of universalizability is both an essential feature of moral rules and a natural part of moral reasoning” (54).  What is good or bad for us should be considered good or bad also for all others in similar circumstances.

In the end, Baggini admits he has not provided any sort of logical proof that atheists ought to behave morally, but he is not bothered by this because he thinks theists have no such logical proof either.  It’s a myth, he argues, that morality just comes along with the package if you are a theist.  “Being good is a challenge for everyone, atheist or non-atheist” (56).

Can an Atheist Believe in Meaning or Purpose? 

In our next post, we will explore meaning and purpose within an atheist worldview.  Once I have summarized all of the major points in each chapter, I will offer my own personal assessment of Julian Baggini’s account of atheism.

The Case for Atheism :: Book Review of Julian Baggini’s book Atheism: A Very Short Introduction

In this post I will summarize Julian Baggini’s own summary of the case for atheism, presented in chapter 2 of his book Atheism: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford University Press, 2003), 119 pp.

What is Atheism?

Chapter 2: The Case for Atheism

To make a case for anything, argues Baggini, one must use a combination of argument/logic, facts/evidence, and rhetoric.  Rhetoric is the odd ball here, since it can neither make a case good or bad, but only makes good or bad cases more or less persuasive.  The structure of Baggini’s overall argument is this: strong evidence counts in favor of atheism, and only weak evidence counts against it.  What makes evidence stronger is its experimental verification—that is, “evidence is stronger if it is available to inspection by more people on repeated occasions” (13).  Likewise evidence is weaker if “it is confined to the testimony of a small number of people on limited occasions” (13).

Evidence

There is a continuum here, with extremes on each side.  On the extreme side of strong evidence we have things like “in countless repeatable tests countless scientists have verified that water freezes at zero degrees centigrade,” and on the extreme side of weak evidence we have anecdotal evidence such as “my dog spontaneously combusted right before my eyes yesterday at 2:00pm while I was at home all alone.”  In the former case, we have countless witnesses and can repeatably test the claim.  In the latter case, we have a claim that relies on the testimony of a single person relating one incident.  It’s not that the latter is not evidence at all, it’s just that it is weak when compared to “all the other evidence” that suggests dogs do not spontaneously combust (14).

Secondly, it’s not strong evidence because “human beings are not very good at interpreting their experiences especially unusual ones” (14).  This does not mean such testimony should reflect poorly on the character of the one testifying to some anomaly—they could be the victim of a clever trickster or just be mistaken about the interpretation of their experience.  The strength of evidence grows in proportion, then, to an occurrence’s repetition under close scrutiny.  The close scrutiny part is important too, since magicians (for example) can make it seem that rabbits can be instantaneously transported into previously empty hats quite regularly, but such an occurrence (though there might be thousands of witnesses) does not hold up under close scrutiny.

Baggini insists that the argument for atheism  does not follow the “absence of evidence is evidence of absence” fallacy, for he is not concluding that absence of evidence for God’s existence necessarily means God does not exist, only that the strongest evidence favors naturalism, and only weak evidence seems to favor Theism (or anything supernatural).  Thus, the conclusion of his argument is not “God does not exist,” but rather: we have no good reason to suppose God exists, for nature is found to lack any good reason for such a hypothesis.

If we look inside the fridge, thoroughly examine it, and don’t find any butter, then we have an absence of evidence which really does add up to evidence of absence.  Indeed, it is hard to see what other evidence there could be for something not being there other than the failure to find any evidence that it is there.  Something which does not exist leaves no mark, so it can only be an absence of marks of its existence that can provide evidence for its non-existence. … So the evidence for atheism is to be found in the fact that there is a plethora of evidence for the truth of naturalism and an absence of evidence for anything else. (17)

It’s unfortunate that many people see atheism as simply an attack on the existence of God rather than the affirmation of naturalism, which rules out “goblins, hobbits, truly everlasting gobstoppers,” etc., and God just happens to be another one of those postulates that lacks any strong evidence.  Owing to historical circumstances, however, atheism is the name branded to naturalists, which perpetuates the stereotype of atheism as something fundamentally negative.

Although atheist humanism tends to affirm “human exceptionalism” (the belief that humans are essentially different from other animals) it does not go as far as to claim that human beings survive death after the grave because they have an immaterial soul.  All the strong evidence suggests that human consciousness is the product of brain activity “and that with no brain, there is no consciousness” (18).

The data of neurology show that all the diverse experiences which we associate with consciousness correlate with particular patterns of brain activity.  The key word here, of course, is ‘correlate.’  To say brain events are conscious experiences correlate is only to say one always accompanies the other.  This is not to say one causes the other.  … But while it is true that a correlation does not necessarily indicate a cause, in the case of brains and consciousness the link is at least one of dependency. … If any one thing distinguishes us as individual persons then that must be our capacity for consciousness and rational thought.  And if this capacity is entirely dependent on our organic brains, as the strong evidence suggests, then the atheist view that we are mortal, biological organisms is well supported.  (18)

Counter-evidence is of the weak variety—from the testimony of mediums, supposed appearances of ghosts, near death experiences, and so on.  Demanding a case-by-case rebuttal from atheists on any claim of life after death, as many do, places an unfair burden on the atheist.  It’s enough that atheism can appeal to general principles and strong evidence.  The burden of proof should be on the non-atheist.  And in any case, “none of these so-called cases … have left us with anything approaching the kind of generally observable, verifiable data that is characteristic of strong evidence.  So the question for the non-atheist must be, why do they think that a few pieces of such weak evidence for life after death will suffice to outweigh the mountain of strong evidence for the mortality of human consciousness?” (21).

Baggini admits that his arguments will not be persuasively conclusive for those bent on believing, since for many it only takes the mere logical possibility that there is life after death to justify either believing in it or withholding judgment.   He reminds us that logical possibilities like this exist for so many beliefs.  For example:

Tomorrow it will be revealed that you have lived all your life in a virtual reality machine; that aliens have been preparing for an invasion of Earth for the last hundred years; that the Pope is a robot; that the Apollo mission never made it to the moon and the whole landing was filmed in a studio; that the evangelical Christians were right all along and Judgment Day has arrived.  But the mere possibility that such things might be true is no reason to believe them.  Indeed, the fact that the evidence to date suggests strongly they are not true is good reason to disbelieve them. (22).

Is Atheism Dogmatic?

The author is concerned to emphasize that his position is not dogmatic, for he still believes in the defeasibility of his views—namely, that the possibility remains that he could be wrong.  After defining dogmatism as the belief that one’s position is indefeasible, and his own view as “firmly held belief” rather than dogmatism, he goes further to suggest that one must go beyond merely gesturing that one might be wrong, but must sincerely acknowledge this possibility.  This sincerity allows for a distinction between dogmatic atheism and un-dogmatic atheism.  Neither the theist position nor the atheist position can be proven, and thus absolute certainty is not a possibility.

Although absolute certainty is not possible for theism or atheism, for some reason (perhaps Plato he suggest) too many people think in black and white, all or nothing terms.  He bemoans the fact that people often think we are not justified in believing something unless we can be sure—if followed through to its logical conclusion, he argues, this would lead us to doubt everything we think we know.  All we need are good reasons to believe something.

I am as opposed to dogmatic atheism as anyone, and I am also opposed to dogmatic theism.  Indeed, it is my personal view that dogmatic views of any kind are in general more dangerous than the views themselves.  Intelligent atheists often have much more in common with undogmatic theists than one might suppose. (24 – 25)

Baggini makes explicit his reliance on inductive reasoning, a type of reasoning that doesn’t lead to absolute certainty, but generalizes from specific evidence.  He argues that everyone uses this type of reasoning every day so its legitimacy cannot be denied.  For example, we always rely on the principle of uniformity—that natural laws will continue to operate tomorrow the way they did the day before so that gravity, for example, will not suddenly stop holding you to the earth.  We don’t believe in this principle because it logically follows or is somehow logically necessary, yet we still strongly believe it because of our inductive reasoning.

We live in a world where everything is governed by natural laws and everything is explainable in terms of natural phenomenon.  Many things remain unexplained, but as the past has shown, as our knowledge increases about natural phenomenon naturalistic explanations continue to fill in the gaps—gaps that in many cases were previously filled with supernatural explanations.  It’s reasonable, then, to expect that supernatural explanations feed off of ignorance.  As Baggini puts it: “The class of unexplained phenomena therefore is unlikely to contain anything that will come to be explained by anything supernatural” (27).

Arguments from “Best Explanation”

In addition to the evidence of experience, Baggini adds a second argument he labels “abduction” or “argument to the best explanation” (27).  He admits that the criterion for judging whether one explanation of a phenomenon is “better” than another is not like a math problem because “there is no magic formula” for adjudicating between two explanatory hypothesis (28).  Nevertheless, he argues that “in general better explanations are simpler, more coherent … more comprehensive” and more testable than the alternatives (28).

Atheism is simpler because it posits only the natural world, not a natural and supernatural world where the supernatural world is by definition unobservable.  This extra dimension of the supernatural is thus less testable.  A naturalistic worldview is also more coherent for several reasons.  First, it fits the whole universe into one scheme of being rather than two, and when you have two it requires an explanation of how the natural and supernatural interact and co-exist.  Second, it better explains the phenomenon of world religions all contradicting each other.  The alternative would be to hold that only one (or a few maybe) are really true.

It’s no good saying that all religions are different paths to the same truth: the fact has to be accepted that religions flatly contradict one another, and if one were to focus simply on what all religions agree upon one would be left with very little indeed. (29)

Third, atheism better explains the existence of evil in the world—the religious explanation “requires rather a lot of sophistical reasoning” for explaining how a loving God would allow such terrible suffering and injustice.   Fourth, what best explains the dependency of consciousness of brain activity?  This makes perfect sense for a naturalist who doesn’t posit a non-material thinking soul that exists (somehow mysteriously) alongside brains and interacts with them—and further that “the dependencey of consciousness on brain activity miraculously disappears at death, when the soul lives on without the body” (30).

These are just a few examples, but in the big picture Baggini thinks naturalistic explanations are less problematic.

Is Atheism a Faith Position?

It’s often claimed that because atheism cannot “prove” their case to be true with absolute certainty on the basis of logic or science, atheism is just as much a “faith position” as theism.  But Baggini dispels this myth by showing that we must make a distinction between believing something because one thinks they have sufficient and strong evidence for believing it (even if it’s not conclusive), and accepting a belief without such evidence merely on the basis of faith.  Most of our beliefs we don’t have absolute proof for anyway, so to call all beliefs “faith positions” that cannot be proven absolutely (even if there is strong evidence for them) is very misleading.

The popular notion of religious faith includes the opposite element: believing in something on mere trust without first requiring evidence or logical argument.  For example, the Christian scripture teaches “blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed” (John 20:29).  Naturalism, according to Baggini, does not require one to believe anything that goes against available evidence, experience, or logic.  It only requires one to believe what there is strong evidence for believing.  Religious faith is “what supports beliefs that lack the ordinary support of evidence or argument” (33).  This is very different from atheist “faith,” and to call beliefs that are rationally justified based on strong available evidence “faith” is to rob the word of its meaning.

In my next post I will attempt to summarize the rest of his book before my final post, where I will offer my appraisal of his book and arguments.

What is Atheism? :: A Book Review of Julian Baggini’s “Atheism: A Very Short Introduction”

In the next few posts I will be both summarizing and reviewing a book designed to explain and defend Atheism.  The book is not written for academicians but intended for the broadest possible audience. Julian Baggini, Atheism: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford University Press, 2003), 119 pp. In this short book, Baggini has defined for … Continue reading

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