Archive | April, 2009

Ten Answers from an Austro-Athenian

Scott Pruett has written 10 Questions for the Atheist, and François Tremblay has answered with the first half of 10 Answers from an Atheist (with more to follow).

Darwin as JehovahPruett seems to equate atheism with materialism (“Atheism,” Pruett tells us, “by definition, holds that there is no God and nothing beyond this world of matter, space, time, and energy”!) and theism with creationism, which is a mistake: Chrysippus and Hobbes, arguably, were materialists but not atheists; most Buddhists are atheists but not materialists; Aristotle and the early Spencer were theists but not creationists; and people who think life on earth was designed by aliens are creationists (or intelligent design theorists, anyway) but need not be theists. (Brother Cavil knows he’s the product of intelligent design, but he’s no theist.) But this error on Pruett’s part doesn’t really affect François’s reply, since he is a materialist as well as an atheist.

Since I, on the other hand, am neither a creationist nor a materialist, and since I moreover think that theism and atheism come to the same thing, I’m not really on either side of this dispute; so let me say something about how Pruett’s questions look from my own perspective. My answers are often similar to François’s, but not always. (I’ve shortened Pruett’s questions somewhat, but you can read the full original at the above link.)

1. [W]hat explanation is given to the questions, “Why is there something rather than nothing?” and “Where did it all come from?”

I regard these questions as incoherent. It makes no sense to ask for an explanation of the whole of existence – whether that whole includes a God or not. Any attempt to explain existence has to appeal either to something in existence or something not in existence. If it appeals to something that’s already in existence (be it God, quarks, or whatever you like), then you’re not explaining all of existence; and if it appeals to something not in existence, then you’ve offered no explanation at all. The concept of explanation applies only within the realm of existence; that’s why both theists and atheists agree that chains of explanation stop with something whose existence has (and needs) no explanation beyond itself – whether it’s God or energy.

Likewise, if there was a Big Bang, and if it was the first event (i.e., no previous universe perishing in a Big Crunch), then that event has no explanation over and above the natures of the entities involved in the event (again, be they gods or quarks or steam calliopes) – and the existence of those entities has no explanation and needs none.

Incidentally, when François in his answer to this question says that matter “has always existed,” I’m not sure whether he means that matter has an infinite past (in which case I disagree with him – and with Aristotle too) or merely that matter has existed throughout all past time (in which case I agree, since that can be true even if the past is finite).

2. How is it that we live in such an exquisitely fine-tuned universe? Even assuming that the universe could have popped out of nothingness, why should it have been such an orderly and hospitable one?

First, “popped out of nothingness” is a tendentious way to describe the option of Big Bang minus God. If time began with the first event, then there never was a time when nothing existed, and so there was never any nothingness to pop out of. The existence of the universe – be its past finite or infinite – is explanatorily basic.

As for the claim that the universe is “fine-tuned” to support life, this claim presupposes that physical laws other than the present ones are possible. But as an Aristotelean, I reject any form of possibility other than “compatibility with the nature of the actual world.” Just as explanations make sense only within the realm of existence, so the distinction between possible and impossible does so too. Thus I essentially agree with Fraçois’s answer: “Just because we can imagine the gravitational constant being, not 6.674×10^-11 m^3 kg^-1 s^-2, but rather 6.252×10^-11 m^3 kg^-1 s^-2, does not mean that it can actually be 6.252×10^-11 m^3 kg^-1 s^-2. Just because we can write it down and make calculations based on it doesn’t mean it’s actually possible.”

3. The problem of abiogenesis (the origin of the first lifeform) is one of the thorniest and most intractable issues in chemistry. … What hope for an explanation do you have?

Scientists are constantly discovering new forms of spontaneous order, and I fully expect that trend to continue. Before Newton, it was widely believed that ongoing angelic intervention was needed to hold the planets in their orbits. Newton then proved that gravity and inertia could keep them there without the need for such intervention – but even he believed that some sort of divine intervention was needed to get the planets into the right initial positions. But Kant and Laplace then developed the “nebular” model to show how that too could occur via spontaneous order.

Hume explained how biologically fit species, once they arose, could spread and persist via natural selection; but he couldn’t explain the initial emergence of such a species except via its bursting full-blown on the scene randomly after infinitely many throws of the dice in infinite time. Darwin then improved on Hume’s all-or-nothing conception of fitness by introducing the notion of comparative degrees of fitness, thus drastically reducing the role of randomness in evolutionary theory.

Contrary to the view that all social order derives from wise rulers, the eighteenth-century economists showed that social order naturally arises and persists via the invisible hand of the market; but they generally thought that a consciously designed background framework of legal institutions, as well as a state-sponsored medium of exchange, were needed to secure the peaceful enjoyment of property rights necessary for the market to work. But then the nineteenth- and twentieth-century economists showed how even money and legal frameworks can, and historically have, emerged and persisted via spontaneous-order mechanisms too.

Many early thinkers thought that language had to be a divine creation (you can’t have complex thought without language, and you can’t have language without complex thought, so there was a chicken-and-egg problem, solved by postulating the simultaneous full-blown creation of both together); but modern linguists have explained how the two can arise gradually in tandem.

Given this track record, I see little reason to worry about abiogenesis; and, like Leibniz, I wonder why creationists think God is such a poor craftsman that he constantly has to keep fiddling with his handiwork to make it function properly rather than just setting it up right in the first place.

With regard to some of the more specific problems that Pruett raises (and that I didn’t quote), I recommend François’s detailed answers.

4. Logic and mathematics are abstract principles that have been discovered rather than invented. … What is the source of math and logic? … The existence of this remarkably fine-tuned universe aside, how is it that we have these “languages of reality” to so elegantly describe and interact with it?

Here I think I disagree with François’s answer, which is that math and logic “stem from our observations of reality.” I agree rather with Kant’s observation that “though all our knowledge begins with experience, it by no means follows that all knowledge arises out of experience.” Math and logic, in other words, are a priori, and not the product of observation.

I’m not sure whether Pruett is asking how the universe came to be governed by logical and mathematical principles or how we came to think in logical and mathematical terms (maybe both); but either question is again illegitimate, as I see it. To ask why the universe is logical and mathematical is to suppose that it could conceivably have been illogical and unmathematical; but such a supposition is incoherent and senseless. Likewise, to ask why our minds are logical and mathematical is again to suppose that there could be something that would count as a mind while being illogical and unmathematical, and that too is incoherent and senseless. (For elaboration on this point, see my article Anti-Psychologism in Economics: Wittgenstein and Mises, especially section 6.) It makes no sense to demand an explanation for why something is so when no alternative to its being so is conceivable; it’s like asking “Why not glarvel babu snoorp?” – you haven’t succeeded in asking an actual question or specifying the scenario whose non-occurrence you want explained.

5. With no divine author or judge there is no reason to think that there should be any moral laws that we are obliged to recognize and keep, except for self-serving reasons. … [H]ow do you ground morality; how do you explain where it came from and why we ought to be moral tomorrow?

Like Socrates, Aristotle, and Kant (in their different ways), I ground morality in the structure of practical reason. So morality has a status similar to that of logic and math, and asking where it came from makes no sense. As for why we should obey it, here I think (following Socrates and Aristotle more than Kant in this instance) that whatever we desire logically commits us to desiring moral virtue in the same way that whatever we believe logically commits us to believing the laws of logic. (For more details, see my seminar on libertarian ethics.)

Does my commitment to Greek-style eudaimonism make moral obligation (albeit non-instrumental) “self-serving”? If so, I ask: what is the non-self-serving basis for morality that Pruett offers? (It had better not be hope for heaven or fear of hell, because those would be self-serving motivations, no?)

Indeed, more generally, where does morality come from according to Pruett? Presumably his answer is “from God,” but that by itself isn’t very informative. Is Pruett a divine-command theorist, who holds that God makes things good or bad by commanding or forbidding them? (Not all theists are divine-command theorists; Aquinas and Grotius, for example, were not.) If so, he needs to deal with the well-known problems with divine-command ethics (such as its making it impossible for God to have a good reason for anything he does, since no reason counts as good until his choosing it makes it so); plus it still doesn’t by itself give us a reason for obeying God’s commands. (Locke’s version of divine-command ethics offers respect for our creator as the reason to obey his commands; but the moral principle “respect your creator” either depends itself on a divine command – in which case we have no reason to accept it unless we already have independent reason to obey divine commands – or it doesn’t, in which case divine-command ethics is false.)

Now Pruett might instead hold, like Aquinas, that morality derives from God’s nature rather than from his will. Fine; but Aquinas makes that argument work by in effect identifying God with reason personified; and since it’s the reason part, not the personified part, that seems to be doing all the work, this grounding of morality is as available to the atheist as to the theist.

6. In the atheist worldview we are products of time, chance, and blind forces – there is no objective meaning and value to our human existence. … Does life really have no point other than what you pretend for your own sake?

Actually atheism per se doesn’t obviously entail that “we are products of time, chance, and blind forces,” but leave that aside. The obvious answer to this question is that from the premise “we are products of time, chance, and blind forces,” the conclusion “there is no objective meaning and value to our human existence” simply doesn’t follow. The argument’s not valid. An additional premise needs to be supplied, and I have no idea what it could be (apart from the question-begging conditional “IF we are products of time, chance, and blind forces THEN there is no objective meaning and value to our human existence”).

Why would facts about our origin be the only facts relevant to determining the meaning of our lives? Why wouldn’t facts about what kind of being emerged (and not just how it emerged) be at least as relevant?

7. In the world of atheism, where there is no soul or transcendent “self,” humans are simply biological machines, and our minds are just computers made out of meat. With this in view there is really no room for something like freewill, since we are all just operating according to our “programming” and our environmental influences. … Are you prepared to accept the idea that no one is really morally responsible for their bad behavior and, conversely, that virtuous behavior is not commendable?”

Pruett assumes that a) atheism entails materialism, b) materialism entails determinism, and c) determinism entails absence of free will.

I agree with (c), and moreover I think the supposition of determinism is incoherent (for some of my reasons, see my paper Free Minds and Future Contingents); but a lot of smart people have given interesting arguments against (c), so Pruett needs to grapple with those arguments.

I think (a) and (b) are false; anyway, Pruett has offered no defense of them. (Incidetally, for my Aristotelean view on the soul-body relation, one that attempts to avoid the vices of both materialism and dualism, see here, here, and here.)

8. Every known time and culture is rich with stories of near death experiences, ghosts, angels, demons, prophetic dreams and visions, and miraculous healings. … In addition to this, humans seem to be incurably religious; the idea of God and the spiritual is deeply entrenched in the human psyche, if not in its actual experience. … If man is simply an adapted biological organism, then how is it that we did not manage to adapt to our natural environment in this area – why are we not “naturalists” rather than theists?

A ghost! Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian Pruett offers the atheist a dilemma: either paranormal experiences are real, in which case, theism wins; or else they’re not real, in which case our cognitive mechanisms are badly adapted to our environment, so evolutionary theory fails, so once again theism wins.

Neither half of this argument works. There is no inconsistency in regarding experiences of ghosts, prophecies, spiritual healings, etc., as genuine without thinking they’re caused by God. Has Pruett never heard of Buddhists? Or parapsychologists, for that matter?

On the other hand, there’s also no inconsistency between evolutionary theory and regarding paranormal experiences as delusions. It’s no part of evolutionary theory to claim that we are, or that any species is, perfectly adapted to its environment; quite the contrary. And the paraskeptical evolutionist always has the strategy of explaining maladaptive paranormal experiences as the byproducts of traits that are genuinely adaptive (such as high alertness to purposive activity in one’s environment).

As for the claim that belief in God is “deeply entrenched in the human psyche,” actually for most of human history it seems to have been belief in many gods that’s thus entrenched; the prevalence of monotheism is fairly recent. So if this is a good argument for being a theist, it’s an even better argument for being a polytheist – a conclusion that I suspect Pruett will be hesitant to embrace.

9. The case for the Jesus of Scripture is extremely compelling. There is good evidence that the New Testament was written in the generation of the Apostles. … There is no motivation and evidence for fraud among the apostles and church fathers – most died martyr’s deaths. … What alternative explanation do you offer to the New Testament documentation and the tradition of the church, and what support do you have for your theory? Is it because of the miracles that you doubt the Scriptures? If Jesus really were God in the flesh, how would you expect Him to confirm that fact?

Here the atheist has several options. First: grant the miracles but continue to deny the existence of God. (As we’ve already seen, from the existence of miraculous events, nothing follows about the existence of God. Most Buddhists believe in miraculous events also.) Second: question whether the Gospels in their present form had the approval of the Apostles. (We still don’t have complete texts from the Apostles’ actual era, and we already know that some miracles were added that weren’t present in the original editions, like the very resurrection of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark.) Third: deny that the Apostles had no motive for fraud. (The desire to be regarded as an emissary of the divine might easily outweigh the desire to avoid martyrdom; it often does.) Fourth: deny that deliberate deception is the only explanation for false stories of miracles. (Does Pruett think all reports of alien abduction, sightings of the Loch Ness monster, etc., are either genuine or hoaxes? that such factors as false memories and the suggestibility of the human mind never play any role?)

As for how Jesus would have confirmed that he was God, I don’t know, but the point is moot, since Jesus explicitly denied that he was God.

10. If there really is no meaning or purpose to life, no objective good or evil, and the existence of “truth” itself is open to debate, by what standard will you condemn the beliefs of Christians?

This question depends on conflating atheism with materialism and ethical nihilism; I’ve already said why I think that’s a mistake.

Also, why does Pruett assume that the only alternative to atheism is Christianity? There are a lot of other religions out there besides Christianity (as well, of course, as other versions of Christianity than his own).


Kulcherel Littorasy, Part Duh

I’d read most of the books on the first half of Jason Jewell’s cultural literacy test, but I predicted I would do worse on the second half.

Turns out I was wrong; the second half is out now, and in fact I did about as well on it as on the first one. But that’s largely because a) it’s heavily weighted toward pre-1945 fiction, and b) the post-1945 stuff includes a high percentage of science fiction. (To the best of my recollection only about three of these books were assigned to me in school.)

Peto - In the LibraryOnce again I have to grump about the cultural-conservative “signing statements.” It would be nice to be given some actual examples of “practically valueless” works that are “praised and showered with awards” by the academic left; I regard this claim as largely a right-wing myth. Certainly many of the left’s beloved race-and-gender writers – W.E.B. Du Bois, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Olive Schreiner (a favourite of Benjamin Tucker’s, by the way), Ralph Ellison, Toni Morrison, Chinua Achebe, etc. – are damn good writers, and seem to be excluded from this list more for reasons of right-wing political correctness than on the basis of their merits. (Zora Neale Hurston, for example, is another race/gender author who’s popular with the academic left; but because she’s a libertarian she makes it onto Jewell’s list while the others don’t. Now c’mon; socialists kan rite gud too.)

A few more quibbles:

Why on earth is Huckleberry Finn missing? Jewell includes Tom Sawyer, and claims that it’s a frequent target of banning; maybe it is, but Huckleberry Finn is much more so, and is in any case a better book. (I’m almost tempted to think Jewell has confused the two.)

Chesterton is a delightful writer, but The Man Who Was Thursday is one of his least interesting novels. The Ball and the Cross, The Flying Inn, and The Lion of Notting Hill (inanely published as The Napoleon of Notting Hill) are much better.

I find the comparison between Wilde and Proust somewhat baffling; they don’t seem all that much alike to me. Okay, so they’re both turn-of-the-century figures, they’re both gay, and they both write beautifully, but that seems a rather superficial basis for lumping them together: Wilde sketches in quick, brilliant strokes, while Proust is an artist of meticulous detail.

Asimov is good with clever ideas, but he’s not a great writer; if you’re looking for serious literary merit in classic science fiction you’d do better with, say, Bradbury or LeGuin.

The notion that Interview with the Vampire is a “pale imitation” of Dracula is pretty silly (will anyone claim that Stoker is better at characterisation and dialogue than Rice? the only good dialogue in all of Dracula is Van Helsing’s “King Laugh” speech) – as is Jewell’s disapproval of Interview’s “moral ambiguity” (if you’re uncomfortable with moral ambiguity you’re going to have a hard time enjoying much of western literature). (For my own take on Anne Rice’s vampires – and a comparison with Chesterton! – see here and here.)


Def Elric?

Inspired by the success of its recent Robert E. Howard collections (about which I’ve blogged previously), Del Rey is coming out with what’s being billed as the “definitive” collection of Michael Moorcock’s Elric stories in six volumes (four of which – Stealer of Souls, To Rescue Tanelorn, The Sleeping Sorceress, and Duke Elric – are now out, with the fifth due in October).

covers for Del Rey's first four Elric booksIf you don’t know, Elric of Melniboné is the tormented albino prince, betrayer of his homeland and slayer of his kin, avatar of the Champion Eternal, who wanders in exile through a dream-haunted landscape, sustaining his feeble strength through a combination of drugs, sorcery, and a howling vampiric sword, forever doomed to serve as a pawn in the struggles between the supernatural forces of Law and Chaos. That guy.

Like the Howard volumes, these are profusely illustrated (though not quite as profusely as the Howard), with lots of previously unpublished or otherwise hard-to-find extras (including maps, letters, magazine covers, comic book scripts, and the original short story on which the Erekosë novel The Eternal Champion was based); and, again like the Howard series, the stories are being presented (in theory – more on this below) in the order they were published rather than, as in previous collections, in the order of internal narrative chronology. (It makes a big difference, since Moorcock improvidently killed Elric off three years after he introduced him, thus requiring all subsequent Elric stories to be prequels.)

Any serious Moorcock fan will want to pick these up. But is this really the “definitive” Elric collection? Surely not – since, for one thing, it’s not complete, as they’re not planning to include Return to Melniboné, Dreamthief’s Daughter, The Skrayling Tree, The White Wolf’s Son, or The Metatemporal Detective. But in any case Moorcock has rewritten his stories so many times that it’s hard to say what would count as a definitive collection. In the case of “The Jade Man’s Eyes”/“Sailing to the Past,” one of the more drastically revised stories, this collection includes both versions; but in other cases it provides just one version (sometimes the original version, sometimes a revised one).

Elric and his metal hatThere are good reasons to provide the stories in the order they were published. For one thing, the earliest stories were written when Moorcock was in his early twenties; his writing has grown more sophisticated over the past four decades, and following internal chronology would require passing from the complex and nuanced prequels of his prime to the vigorous but less mature finale of his youth, which could render the reader’s experience of the latter anticlimactic. Moreover, the prequels often contain foreshadowings the enjoyment of which depends on having read Elric’s eventual fate.

But there are problems with the order-of-publication approach also. One is that there are far more plot continuities from story to story in the Elric saga than in, say, Conan, so that jumping back and forth in time is more distracting (wait, this Theleb K’aarna guy is alive again now? have Elric and Rackhir met before or not?). But the other is that there really is no such thing as a clear “order of publication” any more, since Moorcock would often revise an earlier story to include references to later-written prequels (like George Lucas digitally inserting Hayden Christensen into the final scene of Return of the Jedi). For example, in the current versions of two of the very earliest Elric stories – “The Dreaming City” and “The Stealer of Souls” – Elric’s troublesome cousin Yyrkoon is described as having done a particular dastardly deed “twice” (p. 18) or “for the second time” (p. 95) – though as far as the presumably baffled reader knows, he’s only done it once. These are clearly revisions inserted to refer to events in the novel Elric of Melniboné, which was written after the stories but takes place before them – and which was apparently intended, at the time the revisions were made, to be read before them as well. So what counts as order of publication in this case? Clearly Moorcock’s stated goal of giving his readers “the nearest possible thing to the experience of the stories coming out for the first time” can’t be fully achieved as long as he’s including such revisions. (Yet one wouldn’t want them not included.)

On the other hand, thanks to various sorts of time-shifts, internal narrative chronology offers no stable order either; this is especially true in the crossover stories, where the irregularities of time across different dimensions mean that, e.g., Elric’s first meeting with Corum is Corum’s second meeting with Elric.

Warning, kiddies - this is not a safe way to carry your howling vampiric swordsThis whole question is to some extent moot, however, because the new collection does not really present the stories in order of publication anyway; since the stories are of such varying lengths, they’ve been moved around to reduce disparities in length among the volumes, with the result that story B sometimes comes before story A even when it is posterior to A in both narrative and publication chronology. A newcomer to Elric will thus sometimes be confused by the presentation here.

Still, to some extent it’s impossible to avoid such confusion, since Moorcock’s entire corpus of work, both within and beyond the Elric saga, is a moonbeam tangle of cross-references. “Elric at the End of Time,” for example, presupposes a number of non-Elric stories – not just the End of Time sequence but the Jerry Cornelius and Oswald Bastable stories as well. And who could possibly make sense of Duke Elric (or, albeit to a lesser extent, “The Black Blade’s Song”) without having read the non-Elric novel Blood? Thanks in part to all the revisions, everything in Moorcock’s fictional universe presupposes everything else, so there’s really no right place to start; one just has to jump in and try to catch up.

Since neither definitive contents nor a definitive order is perfectly possible with the Elric stories, I can’t really complain that this “definitive” edition isn’t truly definitive. Nothing could be so except a massive academic compendium chronicling every word of every version of everything Moorcock has ever written. (Which I would buy!) What matters is that the Del Rey collection is cool.

Let me close by quoting this delightful passage from the series introduction by Alan Moore (Moorcock’s fellow bushy-bearded cantankerous British anarchist fantasist):

I remember Melniboné. Not the empire, obviously, but its aftermath, its debris: mangled scraps of silver filigree from brooch or breastplate, tatters of checked silk accumulating in the gutters of the Tottenham Court Road. Exquisite and depraved, Melnibonéan culture had been shattered by a grand catastrophe before recorded history began – probably some time during the mid-1940s – but its shards and relics and survivors were still evident in London’s tangled streets as late as 1968. You could still find reasonably priced bronzed effigies of Arioch amongst the stalls on Portobello Road, and when I interviewed Dave Brock of Hawkwind for the English music paper Sounds in 1981 he showed me the black runesword fragment he’d been using as a plectrum since the band’s first album. Though the cruel and glorious civilization of Melniboné was by then vanished as if it had never been, its flavours and its atmospheres endured, a perfume lingering for decades in the basements and back alleys of the capital. Even the empire’s laid-off gods and demons were effectively absorbed into the ordinary British social structure; its Law Lords rapidly became a cornerstone of the judicial system while its Chaos Lords went, for the most part, into industry or government. Former Melnibonéan Lord of Chaos Sir Giles Pyaray, for instance, currently occupies a seat at the Department of Trade and Industry, while his company Pyaray Holdings has been recently awarded major contracts as a part of the ongoing reconstruction of Iraq.

Mike's beard is bushy but Alan's is Moore so

Despite Melniboné’s pervasive influence, however, you will find few public figures ready to acknowledge their huge debt to this all-but-forgotten world, perhaps because the willful decadence and tortured romance that Melniboné exemplified has fallen out of favour with the resolutely medieval world-view we embrace today throughout the globe’s foremost neoconservative theocracies. Just as with the visitor’s centres serving the Grand Canyon that have been instructed to remove all reference to the caynon’s geologic age lest they offend creationists, so too has any evidence for the existence of Melniboné apparently been stricken from the record. With its central governmental district renamed Marylebone and its distinctive azure ceremonial tartans sold off in job lots to boutiques in the King’s Road, it’s entirely possible that those of my own post-war generation might have never heard about Melniboné were it not for allusions found in the supposedly fictitious works of the great London writer Michael Moorcock. …


Captain on the Bridge

From the new Trek, this confrontation between hardass Spock and wiseass Kirk looks like fun. (The other two clips – a drunken Kirk trying to pick up Uhura in a bar, and an even-more-paranoid-than-the-original McCoy spazzing out about space travel – grab me a bit less.)


Sweet Home Maersk Alabama

What’s wrong with this story?

The Black FreighterAndrea Phillips, the wife of Capt. Richard Phillips of Underhill, Vermont, said her husband had sailed in the waters off Somalia “for quite some time” and a hijacking was perhaps “inevitable.” …

Merchant crews aren’t supposed to fight pirates, short of using high-pressure hoses to try to stop them from climbing aboard, said John F. Reinhart, president and CEO of Maersk Line Ltd. “They (the crews) don’t have any weapons ….”


Powered by WordPress. Designed by WooThemes