A few months ago I mentioned John Lach's book Stoic Pragmatism. I've been describing myself as a stoic and a pragmatist in this blog for quite some time, and welcome his book as part of a resurgence of both schools of philosophy. But what I think about their merger differs somewhat from Lach's view. Hence the title of this post and the reason for it as well.
The pragmatism I find admirable is that of John Dewey. His instrumentalism, his notion of inquiry and creative intelligence and his devotion to the scientific method appeal to me. So does his creed that philosophy should be devoted to the "problems of men" rather than to the problems of philosophers.
The stoicism I find admirable is that of Epictetus and, to a lesser extent, that of Seneca and Marcus Aurelius (the later or Roman stoics as they've been called). There is wisdom in their focus on things in our control and in abjuring things and events not in our control, particularly given our increasingly interesting world. Also, their recognition of the fellowship of human beings and emphasis on the divine or semi-divine status of nature is appealing.
Deweyan pragmatism and stoicism are similar in their recognition of the fact that humans are parts of nature, an organism among organisms in a vast universe. We are unique in some respects (we may learn we're not as unique as we think), but the universe was not made for us--it is not our dominion. Pragmatism probably contemplates that we take and should take a more active role in shaping our environment than does stoicism, but stoicism recognizes a duty to act in such a manner (according to nature) as to benefit our fellow human beings, at least, as we are by nature social.
Dewey's pragmatism takes what might be called a psychological approach to philosophical problems, in that he seems to address in all his works which I've read the manner in which we interact with our environment and others and uses this as a basis on which to theorize regarding knowledge, logic, ethics and metaphysics. Although he rejects absolutes of all kinds, this seems to me to be not all that different from the stoic manner of drawing conclusions or making inferences from human nature and our place in the universe, which resulted in the concept of natural law. Now that I think of it, there are indications natural law theory may be reviving as well.
Perhaps these revivals may be the result of a reaction against nihilism, existentialism and postmodernism--the intellectualization of futility. Pragmatism has often been criticized as relativistic, but this seems to me to disregard Dewey's emphasis and reliance on the method of inquiry and the use of intelligence and the scientific method or versions of it in resolving problems. Certain philosophers called neo-pragmatists purport to be disciples of Dewey but they appear to ignore the central role intelligence and problem-solving plays in his philosophy.
There may be a place in our world for Pragmatic Stoicism. Philosophers and others are becoming more and more concerned regarding technology these days. The concern is legitimate, but I'm not convinced the despairing and melodramatic responses of some are either merited or useful. The claim that technology is somehow alienating us from our own humanity strikes me as particularly misguided, if taken literally, in any case. Virtually all we do and are involves technology; we wouldn't be humans without it. Pragmatic stoicism may be a guide in how to control it, as it would necessitate the recognition of dwindling resources and a new emphasis on duties owed to each other and to nature in general, and use this as a basis on which to seek solutions.
Intelligent involvement in a world full of problems, seeking solutions with respect for nature and our fellow creatures with the wisdom not to be overwhelmed (or obsessed) by things which are beyond our control but instead to seek to improve what is in our control. It seems a worthy path, to me.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Sunday, May 5, 2013
The Mind of an Apologist
Now and then I take up and read, without the urging of a divine voice as far as I know, a work devoted to a defense of religion or belief in God. I think I do so in the hope that I will find one which is convincing or at least worthy of respect. I have not yet encountered such a work, alas.
Dorothy Sayers, known for her detective fiction and the character she created, Lord Peter Wimsey, wrote such a work or two regarding Christianity, though it's not clear that she felt she did. One of them is called The Mind of the Maker, which I'm currently reading.
When I say it's not clear she felt she was writing as an apologist I refer to the somewhat irritated preface of that book, in which she complains that another work she wrote was taken to be in the apologetic line when it was not; it was, she maintains, simply an effort to explicate Christian doctrine, and so could not be taken as a defense of it let alone as an expression of personal beliefs. One might infer, then, that The Mind of the Maker was similarly written as an explanation, not justification, but thus far that's an inference I find difficult to make. I can't help but wonder if she was hedging her bets, in the hope that she could respond to any criticism of her claims by stating that they're not hers, but that of the Christian faith.
She was a friend of another apologist, C.S. Lewis. I've read him as well, and also G.K. Chesterton. I've been disappointed by both Lewis and Chesterton, but perhaps they didn't think they were apologists either. Lewis struck me as illogical and gullible (in his acceptance of Christian assertions), and Chesterton struck me as someone who did not think or argue so much as relentlessly manufacture mots.
Sayers' book addresses the doctrine of the Trinity, and naturally enough references St. Augustine's De Trinitate. It seems she feels as he felt that the concept of the Trinity is something which we can understand by analogy with similar aspects of nature, i.e. the universe, and our interaction with it. She evidently thinks that God as creator can be understood through contemplation of the creative process engaged in by artists, including writers of fiction like herself, because artists in creation engage in a process which itself involves a trinity--Energy, Idea and Power, which come into play not necessarily in that order. And, since this creative process involves a trinity....etc. It's perhaps unsurprising that she associates herself with God in this fashion (although I for the life of me cannot think of God as a lawyer).
I'm not that far into the book, but already I feel myself anticipating another disappointment. St. Augustine indulged in this sort of thing as well, finding triads of all kind in all sorts of things (for example the act of seeing) which are in or take place in nature. Indeed, C.S. Peirce was big on triads. The number 3 has long been considered by some to be magical or mystical. Perhaps this means something.
However, it seems to me this imposition of categories of three on the universe is facile and artificial. Why not categories of four or five, or more? We can do that sort of thing with relative ease. Impulse, Energy, Idea and Power--how's that? Interaction, Impulse, Energy, Idea and Power. Why not?
She responds to critics who maintain that God should not be compared to humans and ascribed human characterises by claiming that we're always anthropomorphizing. I suppose we do, or at least do so quite often. It doesn't follow from this, though, that God should be ascribed human characteristics, nor does it follow from this that God shouldn't be thought of as having certain human characteristics in particular.
She maintains that biblical claims that God punishes not only sinners but their innocent descendants doesn't really mean that God does anything of the sort. It is rather a metaphor reflecting the fact that certain conduct results in adverse consequences which continue over time. Metaphor and analogy abound in Christianity, of necessity as we cannot truly understand the divine.
Well, at this time I sigh and go on reading. But it seems to me that the efforts of these apologists consist in ignoring that which they purport to defend, or interpreting it in manner which requires they disregard it "as is." That's been going on for some time. In my reading so far, apologists for established religions have invariably expounded on claims and constructed arguments which, if they are valid, don't require the acceptance of aspects of those religions which render them unique and which are seemingly essential to them in the sense they make them different from other religions.
Thomas Aquinas repeated arguments for the existence of God made long before by pagan philosophers and claimed they established the existence of the Christian God, which one would think would of necessity have been different from the god of the pagan philosophers. If the Christian God was not different, well and good, but Thomas presumably would have been loathe to make that claim. If the Christian God is different, has the existence of a different god been proved by the philosophers?
An apologist for a religion whose apology does not address that which distinguishes the religion does not defend or justify that religion. Instead, the apologist establishes that he/she is unable to defend or justify its distinctive features. The apologist unwittingly thereby puts the veracity of the religion in doubt.
For which, no doubt, the apologist should apologize.
Dorothy Sayers, known for her detective fiction and the character she created, Lord Peter Wimsey, wrote such a work or two regarding Christianity, though it's not clear that she felt she did. One of them is called The Mind of the Maker, which I'm currently reading.
When I say it's not clear she felt she was writing as an apologist I refer to the somewhat irritated preface of that book, in which she complains that another work she wrote was taken to be in the apologetic line when it was not; it was, she maintains, simply an effort to explicate Christian doctrine, and so could not be taken as a defense of it let alone as an expression of personal beliefs. One might infer, then, that The Mind of the Maker was similarly written as an explanation, not justification, but thus far that's an inference I find difficult to make. I can't help but wonder if she was hedging her bets, in the hope that she could respond to any criticism of her claims by stating that they're not hers, but that of the Christian faith.
She was a friend of another apologist, C.S. Lewis. I've read him as well, and also G.K. Chesterton. I've been disappointed by both Lewis and Chesterton, but perhaps they didn't think they were apologists either. Lewis struck me as illogical and gullible (in his acceptance of Christian assertions), and Chesterton struck me as someone who did not think or argue so much as relentlessly manufacture mots.
Sayers' book addresses the doctrine of the Trinity, and naturally enough references St. Augustine's De Trinitate. It seems she feels as he felt that the concept of the Trinity is something which we can understand by analogy with similar aspects of nature, i.e. the universe, and our interaction with it. She evidently thinks that God as creator can be understood through contemplation of the creative process engaged in by artists, including writers of fiction like herself, because artists in creation engage in a process which itself involves a trinity--Energy, Idea and Power, which come into play not necessarily in that order. And, since this creative process involves a trinity....etc. It's perhaps unsurprising that she associates herself with God in this fashion (although I for the life of me cannot think of God as a lawyer).
I'm not that far into the book, but already I feel myself anticipating another disappointment. St. Augustine indulged in this sort of thing as well, finding triads of all kind in all sorts of things (for example the act of seeing) which are in or take place in nature. Indeed, C.S. Peirce was big on triads. The number 3 has long been considered by some to be magical or mystical. Perhaps this means something.
However, it seems to me this imposition of categories of three on the universe is facile and artificial. Why not categories of four or five, or more? We can do that sort of thing with relative ease. Impulse, Energy, Idea and Power--how's that? Interaction, Impulse, Energy, Idea and Power. Why not?
She responds to critics who maintain that God should not be compared to humans and ascribed human characterises by claiming that we're always anthropomorphizing. I suppose we do, or at least do so quite often. It doesn't follow from this, though, that God should be ascribed human characteristics, nor does it follow from this that God shouldn't be thought of as having certain human characteristics in particular.
She maintains that biblical claims that God punishes not only sinners but their innocent descendants doesn't really mean that God does anything of the sort. It is rather a metaphor reflecting the fact that certain conduct results in adverse consequences which continue over time. Metaphor and analogy abound in Christianity, of necessity as we cannot truly understand the divine.
Well, at this time I sigh and go on reading. But it seems to me that the efforts of these apologists consist in ignoring that which they purport to defend, or interpreting it in manner which requires they disregard it "as is." That's been going on for some time. In my reading so far, apologists for established religions have invariably expounded on claims and constructed arguments which, if they are valid, don't require the acceptance of aspects of those religions which render them unique and which are seemingly essential to them in the sense they make them different from other religions.
Thomas Aquinas repeated arguments for the existence of God made long before by pagan philosophers and claimed they established the existence of the Christian God, which one would think would of necessity have been different from the god of the pagan philosophers. If the Christian God was not different, well and good, but Thomas presumably would have been loathe to make that claim. If the Christian God is different, has the existence of a different god been proved by the philosophers?
An apologist for a religion whose apology does not address that which distinguishes the religion does not defend or justify that religion. Instead, the apologist establishes that he/she is unable to defend or justify its distinctive features. The apologist unwittingly thereby puts the veracity of the religion in doubt.
For which, no doubt, the apologist should apologize.
Monday, April 29, 2013
Waiting for Next Steps
The American philosopher Roy Wood Sellars wrote a book I'm currently reading, entitled The Next Step in Religion: An Essay towards the Coming Renaissance. This work was published in 1918. As you might guess from its title, Sellars anticipated great things--the triumph of the scientific view and reason, the dissolution of traditional religions, the disappearance of anthropomorphic deities--which have not and possibly will never take place, at least in our Beloved Republic. That seems to be the case, in any event, a little less than a century after this grandly optimistic book came forth from the Macmillan Company.
It wouldn't be the first time such hopes, and others, were exaggerated. Think of how, in 1968, Kubrick and Clarke came up with 2001: A Space Odyssey. Is it possible that reasonable men and women thought we would have large colonies on the Moon to which we traveled regularly, and could send a manned mission to Jupiter, in 2001? So it seems. What disappointments we are to ourselves.
What would poor Roy think now about his anticipated "Next Step"? We have commercials in which we are told that God is employing a dating service to find spouses for us (you would think that if God truly is a mere matchmaker, he would manage to do that himself). We are told by political and religious leaders that Satan has his sights on us, that God is angry at us and so will allow us to be punished by hurricanes and other things because of homosexuals. The return of Jesus and the Last Judgment are eagerly awaited and the subject of popular novels. The year is 2013, and it is being demanded that evolution not be taught in our schools or that alternatives to evolution in the form of creationism be taught as well. Some of us think that the world was created 6,000 years ago.
It's an interesting book, really, and worth a read despite its optimism. But one wonders what happened. Are we stupider than, or at least as stupid as, we were in 1918? Are we off schedule due to some event, such as the Second World War, which distracted us? The First World War was apparently not enough to convince Sellars that the Next Step would be postponed indefinitely.
I suspect that the good professor simply overestimated us, rather drastically. Perhaps this can happen if an academic is too sheltered from the oppressively real world which lies outside the academy, but I doubt that is the whole answer. There are still those who proclaim the end of the "God Delusion" even now. I prefer Sellars' arguments to theirs, so I anticipate they will prove to be even less insightful than he was regarding our future.
It seems clear that most of us need religion, or in any case feel it necessary and worthwhile to believe in God. If that need will ever dissipate, it is most doubtful that will take place in the foreseeable future. But should it take place?
I don't think a belief in God or spiritual or religious feelings are undesirable in and of themselves. One can believe in a God who is not busily finding ways for us to meet our wives or husbands, not obsessed with our sexual conduct and does not insist that we believe he wrote a certain book through someone and does not proscribe death and eternal damnation if certain rules are not followed. One can, in other words, conceive of and believe in a God who is not a particularly nasty, intrusive, and demanding kind of human being.
Perhaps our intellectual leaders would do better service by seeking to transform and inform our beliefs in God rather than condemning the belief in God and religion generally. These beliefs won't go away, but it is possible to have intelligent, reasonable beliefs in these matters.
It wouldn't be the first time such hopes, and others, were exaggerated. Think of how, in 1968, Kubrick and Clarke came up with 2001: A Space Odyssey. Is it possible that reasonable men and women thought we would have large colonies on the Moon to which we traveled regularly, and could send a manned mission to Jupiter, in 2001? So it seems. What disappointments we are to ourselves.
What would poor Roy think now about his anticipated "Next Step"? We have commercials in which we are told that God is employing a dating service to find spouses for us (you would think that if God truly is a mere matchmaker, he would manage to do that himself). We are told by political and religious leaders that Satan has his sights on us, that God is angry at us and so will allow us to be punished by hurricanes and other things because of homosexuals. The return of Jesus and the Last Judgment are eagerly awaited and the subject of popular novels. The year is 2013, and it is being demanded that evolution not be taught in our schools or that alternatives to evolution in the form of creationism be taught as well. Some of us think that the world was created 6,000 years ago.
It's an interesting book, really, and worth a read despite its optimism. But one wonders what happened. Are we stupider than, or at least as stupid as, we were in 1918? Are we off schedule due to some event, such as the Second World War, which distracted us? The First World War was apparently not enough to convince Sellars that the Next Step would be postponed indefinitely.
I suspect that the good professor simply overestimated us, rather drastically. Perhaps this can happen if an academic is too sheltered from the oppressively real world which lies outside the academy, but I doubt that is the whole answer. There are still those who proclaim the end of the "God Delusion" even now. I prefer Sellars' arguments to theirs, so I anticipate they will prove to be even less insightful than he was regarding our future.
It seems clear that most of us need religion, or in any case feel it necessary and worthwhile to believe in God. If that need will ever dissipate, it is most doubtful that will take place in the foreseeable future. But should it take place?
I don't think a belief in God or spiritual or religious feelings are undesirable in and of themselves. One can believe in a God who is not busily finding ways for us to meet our wives or husbands, not obsessed with our sexual conduct and does not insist that we believe he wrote a certain book through someone and does not proscribe death and eternal damnation if certain rules are not followed. One can, in other words, conceive of and believe in a God who is not a particularly nasty, intrusive, and demanding kind of human being.
Perhaps our intellectual leaders would do better service by seeking to transform and inform our beliefs in God rather than condemning the belief in God and religion generally. These beliefs won't go away, but it is possible to have intelligent, reasonable beliefs in these matters.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
We got Guns, they got Guns, all God's Children got Guns
These words were sung to the tune of the old spiritual by the Marx Brothers (and nameless others) in their masterpiece, Duck Soup, in jubilation as the fictional country of Fredonia went to war under the inspired leadership of Groucho as Rufus T. Firefly. Perhaps it should become a theme song, if not the anthem, of our beloved Republic. It would at least be easier to sing than that most difficult of songs. Singing it after the anthem at public gatherings may be appropriate in any event.
Although I'm mindful of the Stoic maxim that we should treat things that are not in our control as indifferent, I can't help but feel a sad weariness, if not despair, over the failure of the Senate to adopt at least some kind of regulation of the sale and possession of firearms. Accepting the Second Amendment to be what it is (and all that it is; an amendment to the Constitution) does not mean that the right to bear arms cannot be regulated, and it is foolish to maintain otherwise.
If it is possible to speak of a militia in these times, and if that word is to be taken into account in interpreting that amendment, it is also necessary to note that "militia" is referred in the amendment as "well-regulated." This qualifying language indicates that to the extent the right to bear arms is founded on the need for a militia, it was recognized that such a militia should not merely be regulated, but should be well regulated. The Fathers of this country were as well aware of the dangers presented by an armed citizenry as they were of its benefits.
One has to wonder just why the compromise presented was rejected. Nobody was seeking to take guns from those who are so fond of them, or even from those who merely have them legally and do not have the fetishistic regard for them others plainly do. Concerns that a national registry would be created seem unfounded; that one would be created as a consequence of new laws, or that the new laws proposed were a planned prelude to the confiscation of guns, seem to be motivated by a kind of paranoia.
Claims that we should enforce existing laws are well and good but do not require the inference that no further laws should be adopted. Why not enforce existing laws and adopt new ones that are not duplicative? Claims that new laws won't prevent criminals or the mentally irresponsible from acquiring guns are not persuasive. We may learn that is the case, but it is impossible to know that now. In that event, the laws can be modified. But criminals by definition violate the law. It doesn't follow that laws should not be adopted, or that efforts to enforce the law should be abandoned.
The arguments against the compromise that I have heard are so flimsy that it is tempting to assert that those who voted against it did so because of avarice (for money and power) or out of fear. The claim being made that we should all arm ourselves seems exceedingly cynical coming from those who have become mere shills for gun and ammunition manufacturers, and is senseless given our history of using whatever weapon is at hand to harm others when we become angry.
But there may be other reasons we are all too ready to resist any attempt to regulate guns, and it may be that one of them is a sense of entitlement (such a naughty word these days in conservative circles) arising from an absolutist and even miserly interpretation of the Second Amendment and other legal rights (or perceived rights).
When we believe we have a right to do something, too many of us believe there is no reason to admit even the possibility of limitations to that right, regardless of whether its exercise would needlessly inconvenience or harm others. We take a selfish and dully self-righteous satisfaction and pride in claiming we have a right to do something and it doesn't matter whether others like it or not or are adversely impacted--we're going do it anyway, even if we don't have to.
There is something ignoble in such an attitude. It is a mean and petty conceit in all cases, but it is particularly so when dangerous weapons are at issue.
Although I'm mindful of the Stoic maxim that we should treat things that are not in our control as indifferent, I can't help but feel a sad weariness, if not despair, over the failure of the Senate to adopt at least some kind of regulation of the sale and possession of firearms. Accepting the Second Amendment to be what it is (and all that it is; an amendment to the Constitution) does not mean that the right to bear arms cannot be regulated, and it is foolish to maintain otherwise.
If it is possible to speak of a militia in these times, and if that word is to be taken into account in interpreting that amendment, it is also necessary to note that "militia" is referred in the amendment as "well-regulated." This qualifying language indicates that to the extent the right to bear arms is founded on the need for a militia, it was recognized that such a militia should not merely be regulated, but should be well regulated. The Fathers of this country were as well aware of the dangers presented by an armed citizenry as they were of its benefits.
One has to wonder just why the compromise presented was rejected. Nobody was seeking to take guns from those who are so fond of them, or even from those who merely have them legally and do not have the fetishistic regard for them others plainly do. Concerns that a national registry would be created seem unfounded; that one would be created as a consequence of new laws, or that the new laws proposed were a planned prelude to the confiscation of guns, seem to be motivated by a kind of paranoia.
Claims that we should enforce existing laws are well and good but do not require the inference that no further laws should be adopted. Why not enforce existing laws and adopt new ones that are not duplicative? Claims that new laws won't prevent criminals or the mentally irresponsible from acquiring guns are not persuasive. We may learn that is the case, but it is impossible to know that now. In that event, the laws can be modified. But criminals by definition violate the law. It doesn't follow that laws should not be adopted, or that efforts to enforce the law should be abandoned.
The arguments against the compromise that I have heard are so flimsy that it is tempting to assert that those who voted against it did so because of avarice (for money and power) or out of fear. The claim being made that we should all arm ourselves seems exceedingly cynical coming from those who have become mere shills for gun and ammunition manufacturers, and is senseless given our history of using whatever weapon is at hand to harm others when we become angry.
But there may be other reasons we are all too ready to resist any attempt to regulate guns, and it may be that one of them is a sense of entitlement (such a naughty word these days in conservative circles) arising from an absolutist and even miserly interpretation of the Second Amendment and other legal rights (or perceived rights).
When we believe we have a right to do something, too many of us believe there is no reason to admit even the possibility of limitations to that right, regardless of whether its exercise would needlessly inconvenience or harm others. We take a selfish and dully self-righteous satisfaction and pride in claiming we have a right to do something and it doesn't matter whether others like it or not or are adversely impacted--we're going do it anyway, even if we don't have to.
There is something ignoble in such an attitude. It is a mean and petty conceit in all cases, but it is particularly so when dangerous weapons are at issue.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Practical Skepticism
I use "practical" here in an effort to make clear that the skepticism I would like to consider is not what is sometimes called "philosophical" skepticism, or at least skepticism as conceived or applied by certain philosophers which, I think, is a skepticism which is insignificant to those of us who struggle to get by in the world. Whether we can "really" have knowledge of anything, or of the truth of any proposition, is I'm sure interesting (to some in any case) but this is of little concern in our day- to-day affairs, where the doubts we face are encountered and not generated as grist for philosophical mills which seemingly are always grinding. But, for what purpose and to what effect do they grind?
Purpose can be rather important in our lives, and effects as well. And in the play of purposes, conduct directed towards them and the effects of that conduct, practical skepticism can be of considerable value. One can usefully doubt certain claims and question certain conduct in circumstances in which such doubts or questions may be addressed and eradicated, or answered. When they can't be, however, it isn't clear just what one achieves by being skeptical, if that skepticism is active, if I can use that word (I have, in any case); in other words if one maintains that something is not true. That's because the issue cannot be resolved, one way or another--the question can't be answered. It would make more sense in those circumstances, I think, to be unconvinced; in other words, not to accept that something is true rather than maintain that it is not true.
It can be maintained that the existence of God is one of those areas where active skepticism does not seem to achieve much. Nobody can prove God exists to a reasonable degree of probability as we lawyers say, nor can it be proved God does not exist. If that's the case, why insist that God exists or does not exist? More significantly, why insist that others believe, with you, that God exists or does not exist?
One can, or course, think that God exists or does not exist. And many do. One can assert that certain things indicate that God's existence is likely or unlikely, or suggest that God exists. As to certain such claims, it can be argued that regardless, God's existence is not established. But this should disturb we who believe, I would think, no more than it should disturb us people disagree with us on other matters the veracity of which cannot be determined. Similarly though, and for the same reason, I would think that those who do not believe should not be disturbed that others do.
Now the atheist can assert that he/she is more reasonable than those who believe in God's existence, and in that sense "better" because he/she doesn't believe in something the existence of which can't be established. And that is certainly true, if it is only reasonable to maintain that someone can only feel something is real, and exists, if its existence can be established in the same fashion as any subject or potential subject of scientific inquiry can be established. But scientifc inquiry is not necessarily a pertinent basis on which to base belief in God, from the perspective of the believer. So, such a view will leave most believers unimpressed. It would seem an appropriate response for the believer to say to the atheist in that case: "So be it."
The problem, though, is that too often there is more involved. God's existence or nonexistence is something many of us seem incapable of addressing in an abstract, dispassionate manner. We're inclined to insist, proclaim, demand, even fight. It seems a highly emotional, even irrational, concern of ours. There are too many believers and atheists, and skeptics, who are evangelists of one kind or another.
Historically, though, the believers have been far more agressive than unbelievers in imposing or seeking to impose their beliefs on others. This doesn't speak well of believers, and makes the aggressiveness of the "New Atheists" and their fellow travelers somewhat understandible. There is no Inquisition, but perhaps there will be an Imposition, if the religious among us have their way.
Perhaps our hope must be in a practical skepticism and the humility which it inspires. "Presume not God to scan" said Alexander Pope, a phrase which has a new meaning now. We are a presumptuous species in far too many ways.
Purpose can be rather important in our lives, and effects as well. And in the play of purposes, conduct directed towards them and the effects of that conduct, practical skepticism can be of considerable value. One can usefully doubt certain claims and question certain conduct in circumstances in which such doubts or questions may be addressed and eradicated, or answered. When they can't be, however, it isn't clear just what one achieves by being skeptical, if that skepticism is active, if I can use that word (I have, in any case); in other words if one maintains that something is not true. That's because the issue cannot be resolved, one way or another--the question can't be answered. It would make more sense in those circumstances, I think, to be unconvinced; in other words, not to accept that something is true rather than maintain that it is not true.
It can be maintained that the existence of God is one of those areas where active skepticism does not seem to achieve much. Nobody can prove God exists to a reasonable degree of probability as we lawyers say, nor can it be proved God does not exist. If that's the case, why insist that God exists or does not exist? More significantly, why insist that others believe, with you, that God exists or does not exist?
One can, or course, think that God exists or does not exist. And many do. One can assert that certain things indicate that God's existence is likely or unlikely, or suggest that God exists. As to certain such claims, it can be argued that regardless, God's existence is not established. But this should disturb we who believe, I would think, no more than it should disturb us people disagree with us on other matters the veracity of which cannot be determined. Similarly though, and for the same reason, I would think that those who do not believe should not be disturbed that others do.
Now the atheist can assert that he/she is more reasonable than those who believe in God's existence, and in that sense "better" because he/she doesn't believe in something the existence of which can't be established. And that is certainly true, if it is only reasonable to maintain that someone can only feel something is real, and exists, if its existence can be established in the same fashion as any subject or potential subject of scientific inquiry can be established. But scientifc inquiry is not necessarily a pertinent basis on which to base belief in God, from the perspective of the believer. So, such a view will leave most believers unimpressed. It would seem an appropriate response for the believer to say to the atheist in that case: "So be it."
The problem, though, is that too often there is more involved. God's existence or nonexistence is something many of us seem incapable of addressing in an abstract, dispassionate manner. We're inclined to insist, proclaim, demand, even fight. It seems a highly emotional, even irrational, concern of ours. There are too many believers and atheists, and skeptics, who are evangelists of one kind or another.
Historically, though, the believers have been far more agressive than unbelievers in imposing or seeking to impose their beliefs on others. This doesn't speak well of believers, and makes the aggressiveness of the "New Atheists" and their fellow travelers somewhat understandible. There is no Inquisition, but perhaps there will be an Imposition, if the religious among us have their way.
Perhaps our hope must be in a practical skepticism and the humility which it inspires. "Presume not God to scan" said Alexander Pope, a phrase which has a new meaning now. We are a presumptuous species in far too many ways.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)