Prescript, Jan. 27: (Ooh! Today is my half-birthday.) This post is unfinished, as it shall remain. Despite its length it is still only a fraction of what I had intended to write, and, as you can see, even though the reply is directed to Thought specifically, I never even got around to quoting his parts. Anyone who really wants to communicate with me can reach me through my journal.
Now, why am I posting an unfinished work? Honor! Having indicated previously that I did not want to be a poor sport by slipping out in the middle of a debate, I strongly implied that I would write one final post in this thread. This is that post, and, given that I do not plan to finish it, I thought the best choice would be to simply post what I do have. Only with Lord J Esq. would you ever get an apology for an unfinished post that is still 20 pages in length.
A suggestion: If you don’t want to read the whole thing, read the last part, which is a defense of atheism and thus is the most relevant to this topic.
Lastly, a comment to the fool, Krispin: Despite your continual boasts of expertise on subjects where clearly your learning is woefully partial, I have never rubbed my credentials in your face, because it doesn’t matter if knowledge comes through formal or informal channels. But the conceits of ego just can’t let me go until I make one thing clear to you: I know Kant. I know Aquinas. I know ontology. In my college education—my
undergraduate college education, mind you—I took classes in glaciology, art history, the philosophy of religion, Celtic Europe, medieval Europe, logic, and Japanese history, all of which have some direct bearing on the study of Christianity and religious philosophy, from angles you would not imagine unless you saw it for yourself. And that’s to say nothing about what I have learned and studied on my own time!
You are truly a sack of potatoes if you think I’ve got no exposure to the philosophers, and no grasp of history. I have always respected your intimate familiarity with Classical Greece; there I will concede the field to you. But on any other subject, Krispin, you’re toast—and you may test that at your convenience. You know where to find me.
Now, let’s get started.
Aha! The conversation seems to have run its course, if recent posts are any indication. But I do have a little more to say.
Looking back at what we have written here, and how we have put it, I am struck by the familiarity of it all. This same argument between religion and irreligion has already been had, on a thousand forums, even here on the Compendium, and never does the outcome change to the satisfaction of anyone. Nobody who had an opinion on this matter already, was persuaded to reconsider. An obdurate fervor informs the naïve and the principled alike. Nobody has changed their mind, because nobody had any reason to, which is another way of saying that, for all these pages of mock disquisition, we have actually said very little here—or, perhaps more accurately, we have
absorbed very little here.
The futility of these sorts of exchanges can be difficult to understate. At best, we can say that we had the chance to hone our own ideas. That is a hearty feat, but after an equally hearty debate it seems insufficient on its own. Where are the converts—or the liberatees? (I suppose a “sic” is in order there.) In literature, one good speech or demonstration can make all the difference. In real life, people’s minds seldom change on the spot. That is a personal, private thing, and it takes time. As Gloria Steinem said, “The truth will set you free—but first it will piss you off.” And that’s just for the ones who allow their minds to be open to change. Many of you do not possess that basic quality to begin with.
What really interested me in this thread was Krispin’s original post, of the philosophy underlying the logic of atheism. But, as he himself said, the quality of conversation here is not suited to that kind of endeavor. I returned to participate in this thread at ZeaLitY’s behest, as he is a zealous character (which we all know) and did not appreciate the guns of religion blazing with impunity. I came here expecting, foolishly, to make a difference. Instead I seem to have simply wasted people’s time, and have outright offended Mister Krispin and possibly others. As fun as it is to turn religious knaves purple in the face, I would not have come back here just for that, so at least I was fortunate enough to have found this new character Thought, who alone deserves such a reply as I am about to make. I cannot say whether it relieves or frustrates me to have finally encountered a Christian with intellectual powers beyond those of a chickpea, but what I
can say is that an intelligent opponent is the only kind worth having.
So, that’s it for a preamble. I hope those few who are still reading with any interest will indulge me as I exposit.
~~~
I privately confided that I would have no further dealings with Mister Krispin, but that decision was communicated before I was able to complete this post, so I hope he will be gracious enough to rewind the clock for these remarks to come. He may otherwise simply ignore it, and I will take no umbrage.
Daniel Krispin’s quotes:
Realistically it's impossible to know everything, but you can assume for matters of example that it is possible. But omniscience still can't prove or dismiss religion.
The contention under which we are all laboring seems to be a premise, not an argument, and you have put it forth with much simplicity here: We cannot, conclusively, prove or disprove any divine premise, by definition. The devout are compelled to speak about religious faith, which is contradictory to—or, as some would say, in addition to—the scientific method of understanding. To the believer, god is known, yet unknowable, and to the rest of us that just doesn’t make any sense.
There are any number of reasons why it makes no sense. Lack of evidence and absurd methodology are among the basic objections, but, more colorfully, we might also observe what is happening at the cognitive level of the believer. How does the believer know that their knowledge of the divine is not simply their inner imp working its power of conviction to create knowledge where no truth exists? They know it not. For that matter, how does the believer know that their religious insight is not the work of some outer force, other than the divine, advanced enough to manipulate the human mind at will? They know not that, either. An internal deception is an exceedingly plausible source of religious knowledge, and, as for an external deception, given that we ourselves would achieve such a level of technology someday, how is such an idea less plausible than the fantastical notion of a supreme being who lords over the universe with a primacy more startling than the lion’s roar?
The power of faith is treacherous, and ultimately self-defeating. I know that if I were to come before the divine, I would never know for sure what I was seeing. To possess certainty of the divine is simply not possible for a non-divine creature. Like anyone, I can be persuaded into a stance of faith if my buttons were pushed just so, but on the principles of skepticism and reason I always try to be on guard against committing the error of faith-based thinking, because it is unreliable and ultimately self-defeating. So even if god itself came to me in a vision and showed me its divinity quite convincingly, I would like to think that I would possess the presence of mind to remark, “Mighty being, I cannot be sure of you.” As Krispin said, even omniscience is not enough to evaluate the question of divinity. What, then, does that leave a creature like me?
I wash my hands of it. The claims of the specific religions of mankind are folly as far as I am concerned, because I have no religious faith. As to the cosmic question of the divine, I can only judge that any hypothetical supreme being would, hopefully, be gracious enough to note this inherent limitation in human cognition and be understanding toward those who do not plunge themselves into a position of faith that stands in contradiction to the testable workings of the universe in which we humans dwell. Now, what if such a being were
not inclined to be understanding? Well, then we’re all in a lot of peril. It’s a funny thing, that. Few folks hold a religion which claims even they, the believers, are damned. It would be interesting to discuss whether any among Thought, Krispin, and their cohorts doubt that they personally are saved.
If the devout among us wish to insist upon this display of religious faith, that is their choice. It isn’t logical, and it isn’t reasonable insofar as my understanding of reason extends, but it is their choice, as surely as it is not mine, and that is the way it is. The rest of us are free to scorn such irresponsible behavior, observing how it closes the mind and corrupts human behavior (by providing an irrefutable authority on which to base all actions), and thus the struggle will continue interminably. Here is a quote I like:
“Religion is an insult to human dignity. With or without it you would have good people doing good things and evil people doing evil things. But for good people to do evil things, that takes religion.”Steven Weinberg said that. I do not share his common view of good and evil, but the point is clear. Religion justifies the most deplorable acts, and, by the power of faith, places itself beyond reconciliation, which leads me to this concluding thought: The power of faith is treacherous not only to the wielder, but to all the rest of us as well.
Krispin wrote:
The religious person who says ‘you’re a terrible, deluded, person because you don’t believe what I do’ is no different than the atheist who says ‘you’re a terrible, deluded, person because you have faith in something I don’t.’
That said, I don't advocate tolerance. Absolutely never tolerance. It is the most idiotic and insidious concept in the world. Because when you tolerate someone, you just have to put on a face. You can't tread on toes, you can't say anything or disagree, and just internalize frustrations with an opposed party. You end up getting more an more annoyed till it becomes hatred, and eventually that hatred snaps into something worse. That is the result of tolerance, and it's only a small bit better than outright prejudice and bigotry, only better in that it's not seen at once but rather takes time to germinate it's hatred. Anyway, what I always advocate is respect.
I am sympathetic to your argument. But you are not a very good practitioner of your own ethic, are you? Remember these?
I think I'm entirely superceeded in these arguments by Thought, who has said anything I would and then some with far more deft, and even beaten Lord J soundly (sorry J, but your arguments were very weak and 'personal' next to his. And your revisionist stance on history is nothing short of strange... it is you who follow the revisions, and the likes of Thought and I who look to the old and standard sources. You can gripe and rant all you like, but you're no historian, or apt at social commentary, that much is plain.)
He obviously has his view, but it doesn't keep him understanding both sides which, I must say, is more than can be said for you or Lord J. In fact, I'm a little aggrieved with Lord J for maligning him with what amounts to little more than opinion. Most glaring is Lord J's insistance on historical 'revisionism', when the stance we take is the one that has been standard for thousands of years, back to Herodotus and Thucydides.
See, one thing that Thought managed to do was remain cool and collected. Forget that Lord J accused him improperly of straw man arguments... that was misapplied (I've been accused of that improperly, too.) Lord J is an excellent orator, but of the sort that would sway masses less by his rightness and more by his words and personality. Lots of fury, but not much backing it up. Lots of mockery, but not much logic. Often he'll come down to just say 'my logic has reigned supreme' when he's said little more than just 'no, you're wrong! Wrong!' (or something tantamount). At those points, I honestly don't know anymore if he's serious or joking.
Thought has put forward a very strong argument, and it'll take more than Lord J's replies to refute it. A lot more. And neither have you made very good cases against. Maybe it's just my position (my father being a theologian and all), but you and Lord J both have a very elementary understanding of religion, and are basing a lot of your opinions on that.
Unfortunately, a vendetta is what both you and Lord J have.
Whether or not my conduct toward you has been respectful in itself, you seem to be in violation of the “respect” part of “respect without tolerance,” do you not?
Respect without tolerance is an idea I have developed at length over the years, as a writer, an imperialist, and as a student of philosophy. What I have found is that such respect can take only a few forms or else it is tolerance (or cowardice) in disguise: There is
courtesy, the respect for strangers, guests, colleagues, allies, and business contacts. There is
obeisance, which is respect from a position of weakness in the enemy’s den. There is
mentorship, the respect for those who we can change. There is
mercy, a show of respect to the weak. And there is
love, the respect for those who have already earned our respect.
Any of these can be broken circumstantially, but to function in society and to make oneself successful, these displays of respect are generally crucial for anyone who wishes to live a life of intolerance.
Krispin has articulated fairly well why tolerance is a bad idea sometimes, but only from the point of view of the practitioner of intolerance. From the perspective of another person, tolerant or not, respectful or not, I ask: Does it not follow that the foe who shows respect but not tolerance, yet who is wrong about something crucial and commits deeds based upon this wrongness, is a threat to others? Perhaps some threats are more benign and others grave, but in the absolute sense a philosophy of intolerance is an argument for conflict and even war—the ultimate conflict—because the very premise of intolerance is that some principles can merit drastic measures in their practice.
Krispin has spoken in the past of having a lust for war. Understandable, given what I know about him. I suspect that he wishes we could have some great battle in our time, where people like me are wiped off the face of the Earth and people like him stand triumphant and supposedly stave off the decline of society for a millennium. I can relate to his desire, although I have since outgrown the war lust myself. War appeals to our ingrained tribal instinct, which is the basis for most judgment—and prejudgment. I can relate to his attitude not only because I was there once, but because I know that intolerance in the employ of the thinker—rather than the bigot—is a dynamic, vibrant idea to hold. It demands action. Respect, for its part, is merely the brake to dampen such action from careering beyond our intent.
So what Krispin is saying might have gone unnoticed by all but me. Certainly, it went without remark until now. But I understand him on this point. Now, if he understands himself, he might begin to fathom why I have pursued him so tirelessly over the years. His wrongness has been on display time and again, from his attitudes on the female sex, to his egotistical dismissal of secular ethics and principles, to his revision of history in his religion’s favor. All of this is the beginnings of a darkness, and while he is harmless enough now, alone and powerless, some religious fanatics eventually do act on their ideals. I would hate for him to be one of them, because he is particularly averse to compassion while at the same time possessing a scared and bloated ego. To get back to what he said in that quote above, I think he is a “terrible” person not because he is deluded (which merely makes him pitiable), but because he might actually get it in his mind to pursue some of his deluded ideas someday. All religionists of any power pose this same threat, even our beloved Thought, and my enmity toward them is borne not of ignorance or arrogance, but of understanding. That is a crucial point. What is different between the religious fanatic and the nonreligious one—if you must call me fanatical simply for being principled—is that one is right.
Krispin again:
The second argument that’s going on is the one I’d originally intended, and that’s the metaphysical one (though that’s probably a bit of a misnomer.) The one where we’re trying to view the belief in God from purely philosophical constructs, apart from religion, and as such apart from ethics, societal, and historical points. This means you have to put a lot of your own views and opinions aside which, I’ve noticed, very few are willing to do on either side. Lord J has, as is his wont, arraigned religion rather harshly. But his foray into the metaphysical left a lot to be desired, as he couldn’t say anything but that belief in an omnipotent God is irrational, without providing much in the way of logical, non-biased, reasons (and note that in such a discussions evidence based on ethics and human interaction are inadmissible.)
This is the argument of the two that requires the most opinion of all, so divorced as it is from our practical concerns. Have I arraigned religion “rather harshly”? Sure, but Krispin says it as though I did so without reason. It might have behooved him to elaborate upon that implicit claim. I can always explain myself, when asked. But he never asks, and he never elaborates. He simply declares.
I have seen prejudice from both side, though in this particular thread the greatest vehemence has come from the atheists who categorically deny any rationale for belief.
There is only one such rationale under discussion, and it is religious faith. Yes, we on the “atheist” side condemn such a rationale, but it is not as though we have done so on a mere whim. Krispin simply persists in ignoring the arguments—a weakness on Thought’s part as well.
(A)rguments such as ‘religion is insidious because it is mind control’ can quite easily be dismissed on the grounds that any sort of system, be it the most basic concept of civilization and the order of scientific learning is mind control, because it orders us to think in certain ways.
Religion is insidious because it is mind control
without sufficient justification. Mind control in the general sense might more charitably be called “guidance,” but religious thought is dogmatic and impractical—especially in modern times, where it has grown obsolete even in the philosophical sense, let alone the cultural one.
Anyhow, I denounce religion because it loses on the
merits. We no longer need to appeal to a divine authority to control or explain our actions or those of the world. The specifics of any given religion speak for themselves. If the religionist such as Krispin wishes to lay out a list of values, as pertain to his everyday lifestyle, his cultural grounding, and his political attitudes, we can go through it one item at a time, and I can show everybody what I mean.
But some generalizations stand out in any case: Christianity opposes critical thought, demeans the human spirit, discourages our curiosity, constrains our creativity, condemns our sexuality, vilifies outsiders, and propagates itself virally. Do you want specifics too? I have often refrained from giving them in situations like these, because they prove to be irresistible grounds for distraction into a debate on whatever controversial subject, and in any case I don’t like doing other people’s homework for them, but perhaps I will offer a few.
Christianity…
…opposes critical thought: We see this in the fiery controversies surrounding many academically uncontroversial subjects, from stem cell research to evolution. We see this in the zeal with which Christians resort to prayer and miracles in explaining the workings of the world, rather than thinking harder about their choices, their existence, and the way things fit together. We see this in the ardor with which they cling to a rigid morality that, however applicable to themselves (and that’s a stretch), fits others so poorly. We see this in their resistance to new or difficult ideas, just as others in this thread have expressed discomfort at the cold thought of actually being dead after dying. We see this in the way most Christians fear and loathe anything that challenges their beliefs, leading to such ridiculous maneuvers as the boycott of children’s books like
Harry Potter, which inspired so many kids that they will almost certainly prove to be the single greatest boon to literature in a generation.
A few days ago I read in the news of a construction worker who survived a fall from forty stories, after which he stated that god had decided it was not his time to go. As ZeaLitY pointed out, if that were so, then god simply threw him off the building for shits and giggles. Charming. Of course, the devout Christian never draws that conclusion. Instead, they blame the man for his fall, and credit god for saving him. Because:
Christianity…
…demeans the human spirit: Christianity is not the first religion to glorify some gods at the expense of human power, but it is perhaps the first of the great religions to humble humans so completely. It declares that nearly everything worldly we might enjoy is a sin, from food to empire to sex. Instead, austerity, penitence, and suffering are raised up as the paths to redemption, although many Christian males are just fine with other Christian males accumulating vast troves of adipose, wealth, and sexual conquests, provided that they remain steadfast in their faith, whatever that means once these worldly “virtues” of severity are abandoned.
Christianity teaches that, without Christian membership, we are worse than nothing: We are born evil, filled with sin, damned to an eternal punishment, and can achieve salvation only by accepting Jesus Christ and his fanciful death and resurrection (and also, depending on whom you ask, by committing various good deeds in life). Christianity insists that for our inborn wretchedness there is only god’s grace, and that anything we might seek to accomplish in our own name, under our own power, is either evil or sheer folly. Essentially, to be a Christian is to accept the very worst of humanity as intractable, while surrendering all human majesty to the Christian lord. If that were what we really are, I would not want to belong to this species, frankly, because I value the human spirit—not in the metaphysical but the metaphorical sense of the word—and the human spirit begins with curiosity, whereas:
Christianity…
…discourages our curiosity: How often have you read a book or seen a movie that, at some point, raises the premise that “some questions ought not to be asked,” or “some things ought not to be meddled with”? Both of those ideas, while not indigenous to Christianity, were given much preeminence and development in Christian dogma. They are deeply entwined in Western culture even today.
The Chronicles of Narnia comes to mind immediately as a fine example, perhaps because I saw
The Golden Compass (again) last night, which invites comparison. In Narnia we have adventures like the appearance of Bism beneath the bottom of the world in
The Silver Chair, or the dark place called The Island Where Dreams Come True in
The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Scenes like these are among the most appealing moments in an otherwise mediocre series, yet Lewis writes them only to dismiss them as the folly of human curiosity. He sets his fantasy universe up so that a detour to Bism would have meant no return to the surface for our heroes, and likewise with the island implies great danger in any literal encounter with human dreams—not daydreams, but the kind you have when you’re asleep—compelling our heroes to try and remain awake at all costs. (Never mind that a sleep-starved human mind is far more dangerous than a fully alert one.) Had another author, with different views on curiosity, crafted those same scenes, the resulting adventures could have been profound and amazing. Literature is, after all, the place to explore ideas that cannot easily be explored here in the flesh. But Lewis’ idea, which is representative of Christianity’s attitude in general, is that human curiosity is a liability in our character, because, to put it simply, curiosity can imperil one’s morals.
Like any tribal institution, Christianity fears any worldview but its own, and the Christian theocrats of ages past correctly understood human curiosity to be one of the greatest threats to their power. Everything had to be understood through a Christian lens, or not at all. Free inquiry was the devil’s work—literally—and skepticism of religious authority was heresy. Don’t eat the apple! That would indicate independent thought, and:
Christianity…
…constrains our creativity: Over the centuries, Christian dogma developed to the point that it contained supposedly encompassed all answers. Long were the ages when the Bible alone was permissible reading and worship the sole place for creative expression. Even today we hear Christian traditionalists deride change “for the sake of change,” as though things are fine as they are and ought to remain the same.
On the contrary, creativity is at the heart of the human experience. Any social force that attempts to quash it is sick and will eventually lose, because it is not possible for anybody to repress their creative impulses without also snuffing out their love of life. Even under the direst circumstances, humans have always found ways to express themselves creatively, no matter how corrupted or constricted those expressions were made to be.
Christianity long denied people many of the outlets of creative expression. Composers wrote holy music. Authors wrote on religious subjects. Artists painted religious or mythological pictures. Among the ordinary folk, recreation and popular culture were similarly constrained. Many of the romantic notions we have of the Middle Ages today, derive from the decidedly unromantic realities of life in a dysfunctional, theocratarian society. (Another “sic,” there.) If you think the peasants back then enjoyed the privilege of self-determination, then you are sadly mistaken, and with self-determination goes creative expression. Dance, music, simple crafts…these people had very little available to them, not simply for lack of technology or copper, but because the religious authorities prohibited so much.
Ironically, this is one of the reasons why Christian mythology and superstition during the middle era is so rich, filled with faeries and sprites and tales to curdle the blood; animals who spoke only on Christmas (and it’s death if you heard them); succubae and incubi who preyed on hapless, virtuous Christians at night (and it’s death if you opposed them); angels falling from the sky (and it’s death if you fought them); elves bargaining for your soul (death if you break your contract); monsters dwelling in the hills (death if you go there); broken mirrors (death if you see it); black cats (death); witches (death); merpeople (death)…all very colorful, and, of course, deathly in focus. And all very much a display of make-believe in dark and deadly times.
In the end, Christianity endured because it assimilated and constrained human creativity rather than snuffing it out entirely. People found a way to let their imaginations roam free; they always do. The results are unique, and beautiful, but they leave me to wonder, for all my days, what we missed by repressing our creative impulses at all, and living instead this black dream of Christ. Or, as somebody more poetic than I once put it:
(B)e cheerful, sir.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
Speaking of sleep, and other bedroom excursions:
Christianity…
…condemns our sexuality: In particular, it condemns women, often
literally, who are seen by Christian dogma as inherently sexual, sinful, weak, deceptive, and inferior to men—with their only natural purpose being the generation of the species. But even men are constrained by the bizarre Christian obsession with sex.
Sexuality is one of the chief human powers. In addition to being the most crucial of them all from a speciary perspective, it is also one of the major sources of all human motivation and perspective. Christian leaders, who were right to suspect the power of curiosity to thwart them, knew well that sex was far more dangerous, and, as such, Christianity is a religion predicated upon sex. Sex is the original sin. Sex is the means by which we are all born into sin. Sex is evil and wicked, and yet we are drawn to it by our deepest nature, thus setting the stage for a conflict between Christian values and moral dissolution. Christian thought teaches that sex is the sole power of women over men, by virtue of their desirability, but also that they are simply required at all and cannot be wiped out, and thus for both reasons are a threat and an enemy to social stability.
Sex is the justification by which women were relegated to the permanent underclass, when they were lucky enough to be considered as humans at all. We have enough historical knowledge to track the arc of women in Christianity from the very earliest days of that religion up through the present day, from Mary Magdalene and Thecla, to . By the Middle Ages, women were reduced mostly to the status of breeding mills and beasts of burden, denied for a thousand years the chance to ever demonstrate their comparable abilities—although in fairness women were repressed in Europe long before Christianity took hold. The Christians simply took it to a whole new level of insanity.
I want to stress that this is not idle speculation. You must embark upon your own study of history to see it for yourself. The Bible itself has plenty to say about women’s nature and status. So did Tertullian (“You are the Devil’s gateway…”), Augustine (“I fail to see what use woman can be to man, if one excludes the function of bearing children.”), Aquinas (“As regards the individual nature, woman is defective and misbegotten.”), Luther (“If they become tired or even die, that does not matter. Let them die in childbirth, that’s why they are there.”), and so on. These aren’t just random quotes from fringe Christians plucked out of context. These are thoughtful ideas put forward by some of the most important figures in Christianity. Over time, it is attitudes like these that gave rise to a female holocaust. Folks like Krispin have tried again and again, whether out of denial or fear I do not know, to draw a more apologetic conclusion from the inconvenient facts of their religion’s past. Particularly insidious is their strategy of blaming all Christian faults on wayward individuals rather than Christianity itself, but to accept their claim that Christianity’s contempt for women, to the extent it existed at all, was the result of corrupt individuals and not the institution itself, is to also accept the false premise that Christianity was a sovereign force that existed independent of its membership. Not so: It was the Christians themselves who determined where their religion went. For whatever reasons, the faint glimmer of hope of sexual equality espoused by people like Jesus Christ himself was soon lost as Christianity organized itself in the second and third centuries, and pushed women into the abyss of servitude and degradation. And rampant misogyny has been a hallmark of that religion ever since. Just ask folks like Krispin or Thought to explain, in as much detail as they themselves can provide, their attitudes on women, and their social and religious prescriptions for the same, and you will see for yourself where they stand. Here’s something Krispin recently said to ZeaLitY that I bet he wishes he hadn’t: When lamenting his latest romantic breakup, he blamed (of all things) “the distractions of the womanly mind.” That’s a Christian theme; he didn’t come up with such a silly idea by himself; he was raised into it. That his attitudes on women could lead him to such an irrelevant conclusion about the reason his relationship ended, is a strong indication of the kinds of errors in thinking that people like him make all the time, in all areas of life.
I dwell on Christianity’s sexist dimensions (and Mr. Krispin’s love life) not only to illustrate that particular failing of the religion, but to flesh out the broader issue of Christianity’s condemnation sexuality that we are now addressing. In Christian thinking, females and sexuality are almost the same thing, because all (seminal) Christian thinking has come from males—for whom females tend to have a sexual component (just as the reverse would apply if females ruled Christianity). Thus, the sin of sex is also the sin of femaleness; the two no longer have a meaningful distinction. This in turn influences the role of sexuality itself in a Christian society. Sexuality doesn’t simply go away; it remains a constant driving force in human interaction and cultural development. By marginalizing women so badly, Christianity gained its greatest purchase upon society by exploiting human sexuality and bending it into a message of wickedness and weakness. In essence it created a logical trap: Women are bad, therefore sex is bad, therefore you are bad. And the thing is…it worked. Money might have been the voice of power for the upper classes, but the Christian masses were (and still are) controlled by sex.
Consider what I mean by that. Even today, people’s lives are ruined by the millions because Christian morals interfere with what is best, and they so often do it through sexuality. Do you know how much stronger marriage would be if people were encouraged to cohabit first? Do you know how many women, children, and men would not have been murdered, or driven to ruin, if they had been allowed and encouraged to divorce when things went bad? Do you know how much more well cared for our children would be if family planning counseled abortion based on the needs of the parents rather than the whims of the devout? Do you know how much more satisfied people would be if they could explore their sexuality to their heart’s content, before committing to a lifestyle they like? Do you know how much healthier teenagers and adults would be if we lived in a society where sex is not this immense taboo, but something to be understood and cherished? It is the vilification of sexuality by which Christianity has left its vilest marks on the world, including its cruelest legacy of all: the subjugation of women. But also:
Christianity…
…vilifies outsiders: The Jews have a saying: “God forbid another two thousand years of Christian peace and love.”
Pagans, atheists, homosexuals, women, blacks…all of these people, and more, have been on the receiving end of Christian xenophobia. Anyone who is not a rich white male Christian of a specific ethnicity and denomination, surrounded by others of his likeness, is an outsider in one way or another. In Christianity there is a simple rule of evangelism: Outsiders are to be opposed and resisted when necessary, and subjugated or even destroyed when possible. Christianity teaches that outsiders are to be absorbed—by breaking them. Those of us who do not belong to the elite club know what it is like to live amongst a Christian majority. The prejudice we endure, both subtle and overt, is ceaseless. The harassment we face is directly in proportion to the extent in which we raise ourselves up and try to leave our mark on the world. Women who content themselves in the home; atheists who do not question the Bible’s expansion in our government; homosexuals who conceal their sexuality completely…these people attract little attention. But any time we raise our heads and speak, we attract the ire of the beast.
So many times, in this thread and elsewhere, the pious Mr. Krispin and his associates have suggested that Christianity is under attack. Oh really? By whom? By the outsiders, of course!
That’s just how it works for the Christian mind. There’s always an enemy at the gates. The world is always in decline. The devil is always at work, doesn’t even take a rest day. Christianity has actively encouraged this tribalistic, confrontational mindset. Just like at the “Culture War,” a made-up struggle between “good Christians everywhere” and a rogue alliance of gays, atheists feminists, and Hollywood. Give me a break—and don’t get me started on the “War on Christmas.”
The Radical Dreamer put it nicely when he said that all of these oppressed outsiders—atheists, and women, and gays, and so forth—are not trying to destroy Christianity. Most of them are fighting, first and foremost, just to get a fair shake for ourselves and for all. We don’t want to have to kiss some god’s ring. We want to live our lives according to our own views on the world, and we want the young and the vulnerable to have that same opportunity.
I myself am an excellent example. I would love it if, tomorrow, there were no more Christians. But, even if I had all the power in the world, I would not ban Christianity, nor would I persecute devoted Christians. The reverse is not true; non-Christians living in a Christian world have died by the millions…just for being outsiders. I guess the moral of the story is that you don’t get to be the world’s largest religion by playing nice. Which brings us to the end of this little list:
Christianity…
…propagates itself virally: It’s called evangelism, but really it’s a disease—a cultural virus. Many children are exposed to it from birth, and the rest of us are exposed to it as we pass into adolescence. Christianity teaches that all Christians are obliged to spread the word of their god to others, to hound them and harass them, in hopes of converting them and, thus, sparing them from damnation. In truth, however, the intent is not to save anybody’s soul, but to spread the religion. Like the Borg, Christianity tries to assimilate everything it touches. What it cannot assimilate, it will try to destroy. This strategy has earned many victories for the Christ; Christianity is now spreading like wildfire through the third world, and has long since established itself as the dominant religion of the West. Even today, missionaries are active in Asia, Africa, and the few corners of South America that have not yet been conquered. Inside the Christian lands, a steady stream of pro-Christian propaganda worms its way into every aspect of our culture. People are compelled by peer pressure to attend church, breeding grounds for the virus, where, if these people are impressionable, they stand an excellent chance of becoming a successful host for the Christian worldview.
The worst part is that there is no panacea. Once converted into Christianity, a person is apt to remain there. Christianity has an infernal staying power, and has outlasted every fad or trend. The only cure is skeptical inquiry, which requires the kind of critical thought, curiosity, and confidence that Christianity actively discourages. It’s a scheme, and it works, and it will continue to work for a long time.
This is “mind control” in its very worst form, and brings to a conclusion my rather lengthy foray into why Christianity loses on the merits, and some specifics in support of that claim. More specifics, of course, are available at the discretion of you, the reader. This sort of thing is something you should study for yourself. Like LeVar Burton always said, “But don’t take
my word for it.”
Back to
Krispin:
I merely proposed the hypothesis the purely philosophically the only viable stance one can have is that of an agnostic (as Thought has said.) Interestingly, the atheists immediately countered with a view that professed knowledge of something unknowable, and as such illogical. It was, in fact, my intent to show that to make such a knowledge claim is, from purely philosophical grounds, impossible... that is, either religiously or anti-religiously. But the replies showed to me an interesting trend: that the supposed ‘scientific’ claimed to know the chance of God being ‘remote’... a comment that is, logically speaking, irrational because it is impossible to say.
Lest anyone forget, I actually am an agnostic is the cosmic sense, and am well aware of the reasoning that goes into that position. My defense of the atheistic stance has been based solely upon this premise that atheism is inherently an illogical position to take.
It is not. I will be glad to go over it again, but I would point out that neither Krispin nor Thought, nor anybody else, has answered my previous statements of this argument. It is not surprising, but it is regrettable that they do not simply concede, and instead change the subject. Here we go:
In the case of specific religions, with a defined divine premise, the atheistic standpoint is often (but not always) logically tenable because any proffered definition must be challenged, and the challenge to the definition must be successfully defended before the argument itself can proceed. I think everybody understands that the burden of proof in any given debate rests with the party making the positive claim—in this case, the party which puts forth a specific divine premise and the inherent claim residing within it. Thus, all that remains to be understood is that, because most divine premises cannot survive a definitional challenge without arriving at a position of inconclusiveness, due to their inclusion of inscrutable, “divine” quantities, therefore not only is the agnostic unconditionally valid in their neutrality toward the premise, but the atheist is
conditionally valid in their rejection of the divine premise, on the condition that the definition of the divine premise is absurd or contradictory. (Indeed, every time or almost every time for any given divine premise, the atheist will be more correct than the agnostic. The agnostic will never be fully correct; the atheist always or almost always will. In comparison, the theist will be fully incorrect every time or almost every time.)
The narrow atheist—in my personal sense of the term, that is one who is atheistic toward a specific divine premise or premises—contends that many specific defined divine premises are irrational because they ascribe qualities of ineffability or immeasurability to a deity, and such ascriptions can be challenged by the question “What does this definition
mean?” If “god” is a symbol for something unknown and unknowable, then the entire premise breaks down. We might as well talk about the Invisible Pink Unicorn (blessed be Her hooves). In logic, gibberish is not acceptable, but any definition resulting in an unknowable quantity is exactly that: gibberish. Meanwhile, the rejection of a definition of a divine premise based upon gibberish precedes any due consideration of the claims laid out by the divine premise. Point to the atheists.
Does the Invisible Pink Unicorn gallop only when She cannot be discovered galloping? What if I said She did? How do you
know She doesn’t? While it is true you do not know directly whether or not She gallops only when She cannot be discovered galloping, the entire question is moot because the premise of the Invisible Pink Unicorn is, after all, gibberish. The Invisible Pink Unicorn atheist contends not that She does not gallop, but that “She” is a meaningless quantity, and thus it is absurd to conceive of Her galloping. She’s invisible—untestable, inscrutable, unknowable. How She is pink…that is a matter of faith. If we open ourselves to Her existence as the agnostic might, absent any real proof and encumbered by a gibberish definition, then we open ourselves to an infinitude of specific divine premises, at which a policy of neutrality becomes ridiculous. This is a logical style of reasoning called
reductio ad absurdum, which is a fancy term for disproving a premise that can be shown to lead to an absurd outcome. The premise that any defined divine premise should be held in scrupulous neutrality absent conclusive evidence (let alone theistic affirmation), results in such an outcome.
When it comes to any divine premise based upon an unknowable quantity, the atheist’s track record approaches 100 percent accuracy, whereas the agnostic’s record and the theist’s record both approach 0 percent accuracy.
In contrast, a specific divine premise which offers a
knowable deity cannot be answered with atheism—at least not until the premise is judged. However, this has not come up yet, because Christianity and the other religions popularly under discussion here invariably come down to an unknowable. ineffable god.
Objections to gibberish aside, the atheist further contends that some defined divine premises are simply wrong.
Consider the analogy of the claim that “all numbers are blue.” (Blue the color, not the emotion.) That’s a suspicious claim, because what is a number but a symbol representing some value? Two apples exist independently of the number two. The symbol “2” is just a placeholder for the underlying concept of “twoness.” The
number two has no literal existence. All numbers share this characteristic. But if blueness requires a physical carrier—and it does, a priori—how, then, can numbers be blue? Such a premise would be a contradiction of terms, and therefore the only conclusion is that numbers are not blue.
Another analogy of this “simple wrongness” illustrates not a contradictory situation, but a factually incorrect one: Consider the claim that “The United States Constitution has no amendments.” Well, if you can find an official copy of the Constitution, that claim goes to bed.
The narrow atheist likewise contends that any defined divine premise which can be judged factually contradictory or factually incorrect is “simply wrong,” and the premise can be dismissed as false. Eschewing the safe caution of the agnostic, the atheist holds out for a divine premise that is not obviously false.
This too is a conditional application of atheism. It only applies to divine premises that are factually incorrect or inherently contradictory.
Raising both of these two objections—the objection of gibberish, and the objection of simple wrongness—is the Christian divine premise. Summarizing some of its more important points: There exists an all-powerful, ineffable deity who brought the universe into being and created humanity. Humanity fell into sin by disobeying this creator. Jesus Christ, the son of the creator and himself also the creator (somehow), is likewise an ineffable, all-perfect deity (and is actually a part of this Trinitarian “God”). Long after the creation of the world, Jesus Christ was born to a virgin, lived a sinless life as a man, died on a cross to absolve humanity of its sins, and was shortly resurrected.
This premise is full of any number of gibberish definitions, logical contradictions, and factual inaccuracies, not least of which is the fact that no mere mortal “man” enjoys the virtue of being the Lord of Heaven while living on Earth. For Christ to have truly lived as a man, he would have had to abandon his divinity for the duration, yet Christ lived without sin, performed miracles, and generally retained his full divine faculties while living on Earth. The only conclusion is that he did not live as a man, and, thus, his death was not a mortal death, and his sinlessness was also a special case, separate from the mortal routine. Speaking of mortal routines, certainly Christ’s resurrection and ascension were not standard fare for freshly departed human beings.
Then there is the claim that his death provided a way for us to be redeemed of our sins. How exactly does that work? Is sin some metaphysical substance that flows back in time and passes through the Cross? If not, then what would it have meant for those who died before Christ did? And why are we born into sin in the first place, all for a decision made in ignorance by the mythical Eve? Christian theology provides us with answers to these questions, but they are as unsatisfying as the Invisible Pink Unicorn—if, admittedly, more creative.
Also rubbish is the claim that Christ was born to a virgin. Where, then, did the Y chromosome come from? As a “man” he must have had one, but if no male mated with his mother, then either his Y chromosome was divinely provided, in which case he was no man after all, or somebody did mate with his mother and thus she was not a virgin. (Also possible is that someone inseminated her artificially, which would have been beyond the technology of the day, but, hey, that’s the least of our problems at this point. Maybe a wizard did it.)
Finally, the ineffable quality of the Christian god makes the whole escapade as meaningless as the Invisible Pink Unicorn, with the only important difference being that Jesus Christ is almost certainly a real figure from history, whereas the Invisible Pink Unicorn is almost certainly not. Compound these absurdities with the dubious and contradictory can of worms known as the Bible, as well as the lack of physical evidence to support its story, and the Christian divine premise becomes most chaotic indeed. There is room to quibble, but the Christian atheist would, on their judgment, conclude that it is an irrational premise, and thus a meaningless one.
As much can be applied to the Islamic religion, and to many other specific religions as well.
Admittedly, these considerations are more difficult than the easily understood neutrality of the agnostic. But, in the conditional cases I have laid out, an atheistic stance can be quite tenable with regard to any specific divine premise.
Now, in the cosmic sense, when we speak of a divine premise, where the premise is not defined, I have already acknowledged in a previous posting that one cannot conclusively refute the
possibility that such a premise is true. I shall explain why shortly, but for the moment, suffice it to say that, in this narrow regard, an atheistic stance is incomplete and thus has no logical certainty. Because in logic a statement is either true or false, and one is either aware of the answer or is not, the only fully defensible position is one of agnosticism. This is, of course, why I am an agnostic even after the debacle of religions like Christianity.
However, this is not the end of the story. Even in the cosmic sense, there is logical room for an atheistic stance. The rationale is very similar to the gibberish objection that I described for a specific divine premise. In a general divine premise, we must leave open the possibility that the premise contains claims that are beyond scrutiny, as this is a natural extension of any divine claim. However, as a general rule of logic, any premise which exempts itself from the requirement of falsifiability (and, for that matter, reproducibility) is itself illogical.
Because the divine so easily nullifies our logical system of reasoning, as well as our scientific method of collecting empirical proof, the cosmic atheist—one who is decisive in the rejection of any divine premise—can argue that the premise of the divine is inscrutable, and, thus, absurd. It is logical enough to reject an absurdity, and, if the divine is an absurdity, hence follows atheism.
In taking this position, the cosmic atheist assumes a portion of risk. The risk is that the general divine premise might also
not contain an inscrutable quantity. At that point, the atheist is left to argue on a semantic distinction: That which is knowable is not divine anyway. It is a position that is beyond my talents to justly lay out, so I will leave it for now.
Meanwhile, a problem for atheist, agnostic, and theist alike is that the logical integrity of any divine premise is irrelevant to the actual trueness or falseness of the premise. If there is a god out there, and it is unknowable, our logic is useless to evaluate it.
Correct me if I am mistaken, but this last point is where Krispin and Thought began from when they picked up the argument that religious faith is the missing road that science and logic cannot provide. However, I have already discussed religious faith here, and it need not be said again.
Shall we pick up where
Krispin left off?
However, there is a gross breach in creed for any scientist to claim that they can know something which, by the very nature of their science, they cannot. It is, in fact, more reasonable for a person to say ‘I believe in God’ than for a scientist to say ‘it is scientifically unlikely that God exists.’
If we accept that faith is reasonable, then it is reasonable for any person to make any statement based out of faith. Again, this is a premise which results in an absurd outcome—an infinitude of wrong faith-based statements. The only conclusion is that faith is not reasonable.
Meanwhile, as for the scientific probability of a divine entity existing or not existing, the claim that science cannot provide evidence for or against the divine is far, far more precarious than the claim that logic cannot settle the question either, because whereas logic is a binary game of yes or no, science is the very opposite, a spectrum of possibilities that narrows to fit the facts.
Any evidence which demonstrates the consistency of the universe—that is, any phenomenon which can be evaluated so as to produce a testable theory of its function, which can in turn be used to make statistical predictions and other approximate descriptions of the phenomenon’s behavior—is evidence against the divine, again by definition. The divine is a special case of the supernatural, and, to the extent the universe can be explained in fully natural terms, the possibility of any divine premise being true is cut down to include only those premises which posit an increasingly transparent or manipulative deity. If the universe were fully explainable by science, then what remains for the divine is as follows:
1) A deistic divine entity who structured the universe but does not govern it;
2) A metaphysical divine entity who itself is the mechanism of the universe;
3) A manipulative divine entity who corrupts our experiences in, or evaluations of, the universe, so as to conceal all appearances of its existence.
Each of these possibilities faces serious difficulty. For one thing, none of them is answerable to science or logic, thus cutting off the only true methods of understanding. For another thing, none of them is sympathetic to Christianity (or Islam)
over any other religion, and thus says nothing about the
Christian god, but only god in general, which is contrary to the theistic convictions held by those religionists participating in this discussion. For a third thing, each of these possibilities is in violation of Occam’s Razor: Why propose a deity who created the universe, simply because no information on the universe’s creation is available? Why propose a divine interpretation of the forces of nature that determine the behavior of matter and energy? And, certainly, why propose a deity who deliberately deceives us? I don’t doubt that religionists could offer an answer to each question, but the fact remains that, to arrive at any of those three theories of divinity, one must pursue an exceptionally foolhardy footpath of deduction.
What science has accomplished so far is to show a steadily decreasing likelihood of any physically manifested god, and also to show that the universe has no need for a divine creator or operator. We can, thus far, describe nature quite sufficiently without resorting to a divine explanation. Logic dictates that, where there is no
need to explain something, there is no
reason to explain it.
Perhaps Krispin has a point, however, that it is more properly in the purview of the logician than the scientist to observe that, because the universe has no apparent need for a divine interloper, therefore the likelihood of such an entity is quite low.
However, my memory is guided once again to the fact that any divine premise is tricky, because the mechanism to seriously consider even one of them, invites an entire infinitude of garbage premises. I cannot be certain, but I seriously doubt that it would be
unscientific to observe that such a difficult premise is highly dubious and quite likely false. It is, after all, in the realm of science to refrain from interpreting the world until the facts are in, and a theory with no facts is not acceptable forever just because it remains unrefuted.
So, the irony I see with what has occurred is that the most illogical replies have, in fact, come from the atheists. At least the religious are saying ‘well, we believe this beyond reason; we don’t have evidence to believe this, but are relying on faith’, so they know their limitations: what they can rightly make knowledge claims about via reason. But the atheist have been saying they can know things about something unknowable…
After the walk I have taken us through, I think we can now appreciate that Krispin’s statement has been turned on its head. Even if you do not agree, the money line is “we believe this beyond reason.” That is what it all comes down to. The religionists say they can get away with that; I say baloney. The religionists are reduced entirely to a faith-based argument, and nobody outside their religious circle of desperados even accepts the credibility of faith.
Insularity, is the word for it.
Krispin (still):
Scientific truths are taught to us that are not self-evident. How many of you have proved the age of the universe? The size of the sun? Evolution? These things appear to us reasonable, but recall that to the ancients things appeared reasonable that to us are absurd. How do you know we have a monopoly in truth, and that what is to come may not utterly shake our understanding? Indeed, this is why the study of metaphysics is needed, because what it shows is that even what is perceived by the sense, what we glean via science, is in fact only a representation via our mind’s categories of understanding. Time doesn’t have meaning apart from something that perceives time; likewise space not as we understand it to be. It is impossible for you to prove to me that a force of gravity exists, and that it isn’t just an effect in itself (Berkeley’s criticism of the materialist Descartes: why do you require some ‘invisible force’ to believe in to effect the change? Why not only have a causal effect? That is, when you drop something, it falls. Why an extra redundant force? It is only helpful in giving future predictions in similar circumstances, but doesn’t provide us with truth, per say.) Kant would go further. Causality itself is a necessary category by which we perceive things, but doesn’t have objective reality (note he was very upset with people who considered what he said to mean that everything was an illusion, which is certainly not his concept.)
I think a good test of how one believes what they believe was what I did: throw out the philosophical idea that something like causality is in fact just a mode by which we perceive things. That is a perfectly valid claim to make (and if it is wrong, can be reasonably disproven via cool logical progression), as Kant, an eminent (and still highly regarded philosopher - in the view of my atheist philosophy prof still unmatched) thinker. The form of replies was a good gauge on the way one views things. I must point out, specifically to Lord J, that your reply was very inordinate, and shows me your thinking does not follow rationally. How else to explain this, that when I make a statement that is born from a logical philosopher’s mind I am leaped upon, an Achilles to a Hektor, as though propounding claims of faith?
I missed these paragraphs the first time through. The fault is mine, and my shame is doubled, for this is actual philosophy (as opposed to Krispin’s earlier proto-philosophical musings) and is therefore rather interesting.
First, a word in my defense. To suggest that I am unqualified to grapple with the claims laid out by the great philosophers is foolish, and presumptuous. Even if my arguments were of the feeblest sort, which they most certainly are not, how else is thought advanced (or even attained in the first place) but through such challenges?
I suggest an alternative explanation for my “leaped upon” reaction to Krispin’s words “born from a logical philosopher’s mind”: Kripsin didn’t do a good job of explaining the ideas of Kant or anybody else. He, for all his famous name-dropping, is not much of a philosopher yet.
Kant’s contributions to philosophy are troubled by the
~~~
Postscript, Jan. 27: Hell of a place to leave off, I know, but, on the day that I wrote this, I had been writing it continuously for an entire afternoon and into the evening, and I decided to take a break before tackling Kantian philosophy. As it would happen, I never returned to finish the thought. Kant’s contributions
are troubled, because of the major difficulties and inconsistencies in his work, but you can explore that for yourself by reading his work—although if you are new to philosophy, do not start with Kant.
An interesting valedictory note: My good friend Stephen, a Briton who actually has a degree in this “philosophy stuff” likens my own philosophy to Kant more than to any of the others. So says he, but I never saw it myself. I personally do not, let us say, see the world as he did. In fact, I have developed most of my own philosophy completely independently of the study of formal philosophy. One of the more rewarding things I have experienced in life is to have developed an idea of my own, and then later on find out that some famous bloke already thought it up and put it down in ink one hundred, two hundred, or even two thousand years ago. That’s very satisfying; it’s like conceiving of the derivative all by yourself before learning anything about calculus.
Ah…any post is a good post that ends with the word
calculus.
