Believing Bullshit: How Not to Get Sucked into an Intellectual Black Hole (4 page)

Compare an analogous case. Suppose I claim there exists a nonspatial mountain. I might think I know what I am talking about. But a little reflection reveals that I don't. The concept of a mountain is the concept of a physical object that has parts that stand in certain spatial relations to each other. A mountain must have a summit that is
higher
than the rest of it, and valleys that are
lower.
It must have
sides
, and so on. The concept of a mountain has its home with a spatial framework. Strip that framework away, and we end up talking nonsense.

We run into a similar problem with talk of a “nontemporal agent” that is the creator of space and time. For the concept of an agent is the concept of a being that can perform more or less rational
actions
on the basis of their
beliefs
and
desires.
But beliefs and desires are psychological states, and states require temporal duration. Actions also require a temporal setting. Surely God can only perform the act of creation if there
already
exists time for him to perform the action in. On closer examination, the idea of a nontemporal agent seems to make scarcely more sense than the idea of a nonspatial mountain.

Notice that, unlike the evidential problem of evil, the problem of nontemporal agency is not dependent on our observations of what the world is like. It is not based on empirical evidence. Rather, it is a conceptual objection generated purely by a little armchair reflection and unpacking of the concept of agency. The conclusion is not that the claim that such a God exists is false, but that it is
nonsensical.
But if the concept of a nontemporal agent doesn't even make sense, then
we cannot explain the existence of the universe by appealing to such an agent.

These two intellectual threats to belief in God—the evidential problem of evil and the problem of nontemporal agency—are set out here as examples of the kind of powerful-looking objections that can and have been raised against it. I don't argue here that these objections cannot be properly dealt with. Many Theists have of course attempted to offer such a response. Perhaps some have succeeded. However, these two objections certainly can't properly be dealt with by means of the kind of strategies examined in this book. Rather than address such problems in an intellectually rigorous way, these strategies involve attempting to immunize belief in God against such threats by means of obfuscation, evasion, and intellectual sleight of hand.

S

Perhaps you might
Play the Mystery Card.
As we'll see, this strategy is particularly popular when it comes to defending beliefs in the supernatural—beliefs in ghosts, angels, psychic powers, gods, and so on. By far the most popular version of the strategy—the version on which I focus here—is to say, “Ah, but of course
this is beyond the ability of science/reason to decide
! We must acknowledge that science and reason have their limits. It is
sheer arrogance
to suppose they can explain everything!” As we'll see, those who trot out this line are often as not conjuring up little more than a smoke screen.

“BUT IT'S BEYOND SCIENCE/REASON TO DECIDE”

Scientism

The view that science can ultimately explain everything—can answer every legitimate question—is called
scientism.
Actually, few scientists embrace scientism. Most accept that there may well be questions science cannot answer.

Take
moral
questions, for example. Is killing always wrong? Is it morally acceptable to design a baby? Science can make new technologies possible, including weapons of mass destruction and genetic engineering. But even most scientists agree that science cannot tell us whether it is ever morally permissible to use such technologies. It seems, as the philosopher David Hume famously noted, that science ultimately reveals only what
is
the case; it cannot tell us what we morally
ought
or
ought not
to do.

Nor, it would seem, can science explain why the universe itself exists—why there is anything at all. Scientific explanations involve appealing to natural causes or laws. For example, if you ask a scientist why the water froze in the pipes last night, he might explain by pointing out that the temperature of the water fell below 0 degrees Celsius, and that it is a
law of nature
that water freezes below zero. That would explain why the water froze. But what explains why there are any natural laws or causes in the first place? What explains why there is a natural world
at all
? Here, it seems, science cannot provide the answers.

So, scientism is probably false. There probably are questions science can't answer, questions that extend beyond its proper domain. But then, if the credibility of what you believe is under scientific threat, why not
protect it by suggesting that it, too, is something science cannot adjudicate.
Indeed, accuse your critics of scientism!

The Veil Analogy

Such appeals to mystery can be particularly effective if combined with a
veil analogy.
Suggest that the observable, scientifically investigable world is not all there is—there is a further mysterious reality hidden from us, as if behind a veil. Maintain that some of us-those lucky enough to be equipped with the right sort of transcendent faculty or insight—can glimpse this mysterious reality (and of course it's terribly important that we listen to these “experts”—psychics, say, or “spiritual” people). Suggest that, even if we are not fortunate enough to be equipped with such a transcendental sense ourselves, we can all discover
suggestive clues
about the character of what lies beyond (at this point, you might wish to reach for a generous helping of supporting
anecdotes
to bolster your conviction that, say, angels or psychic powers exist—see
Piling Up the Anecdotes
). But insist that science, as a discipline, with its overly rigid and restrictive conception of what counts as “evidence,” is pretty useless when it comes to establishing anything about what lies behind the veil. Yes, science is a remarkably powerful tool when it comes to discovering how things are on
this
side of the veil. The natural, physical world is its proper domain. But maintain that only a fool would suppose science can reveal what lies beyond the natural, physical realm.

So what does lie beyond the veil? Some would begin with the dead. Spiritualists often use the veil analogy, describing the deceased as having “passed over to the other side.” While science is unable to penetrate the veil, the spiritualist, luckily, has the ability to glimpse, if only dimly, what lies on the far side. If the spiritualist's abilities fail to show up when subjected to some rigorous scientific testing, well, you wouldn't expect them to—such gifts are just not the kind of thing science is equipped to investigate.

Of course, it's not just our dead loved ones who are supposed to reside behind the cosmic divide. Angels, fairies, demonic beings, and trans-dimensional aliens do as well. Supernatural powers or energies, such as those that account for the miraculous abilities of
psychics, spoon benders, and dowsers also operate behind the veil. And of course God, the ultimate agent, resides in large measure beyond the divide. “God,” as the philosopher G. W. F. Hegel once put it: “does not offer himself for observation.”
¹

Because all these phenomena lie beyond the cosmic curtain, it's widely supposed that belief in such things cannot be discredited by rational or scientific means. Such beliefs are all
immune to rational or scientific refutation.

Character Assassination

This kind of immunizing strategy is often combined with an implicit, or not-so-implicit, attack on the character of the critic. A quotation from Shakespeare's
Hamlet
(after the appearance of the ghost of Hamlet's father) can be used to lend the ad hominem attacks a little gravitas: “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

See?
Your
philosophy is rather foolish. It fails to acknowledge that reality is far richer than your narrow, naturalistic, scientistic worldview can appreciate. You're an arrogant know-it-all who thinks that you—or at least science—can supply all the answers. Show a little humility!

Nowadays, the accusation that someone is unfairly discriminating against others is one of the most potent you can make. No one likes to think of themselves as a bigot, or to be associated with bigots. So dressing up your charge of scientism as an accusation of unjust discrimination is likely to be doubly effective. If someone persists in presenting what looks like a credible scientific threat against what you believe, try asserting, or, better, implying that they are an intellectual bigot—that their scientistic worldview manifests nothing more than a nasty, unimaginative, and irrational bias against people who hold beliefs such as your own. Try claiming that, just like women or ethnic minorities, you're being victimized.

You, by contrast, will now appear wonderfully humble, modest,
and open to new ideas and perspectives. Clearly, you are also far wiser and more “spiritual” than your narrow-minded critics, for you appreciate that the world extends far beyond your own, or even science's, limited horizon. Who would want to side with such arrogant, scientistic oppressors against the humble and wise?

NONSCIENTIFIC REFUTATIONS

Is it true that beliefs about supernatural agents, gods, powers, and other phenomena are essentially immune to scientific refutation? Might they be immune to
any
sort of rational refutation?

Before we look at the specific question of whether
science
might settle certain supernatural claims—including the claim that God does or does not exist—I want to first make two important preliminary points.

It's often assumed that if supernatural claims are to be refuted, then they will be refuted
by science.
Only science has that capability. But actually, some supernatural claims may be refutable—even
empirically
refutable—even if they're not, properly speaking,
scientifically
refutable. The two preliminary points I'll now explain are:

1) not all refutations are scientific, and

2) not all
empirical
refutations are scientific.

The Scientific Method

“Science,” as the term is most commonly understood today, refers to a certain sort of activity involving, and/or body of knowledge produced by, the application of something called the
scientific method
—a human invention not much more than four hundred years old, the emergence of which owes much to thinkers such as the philosopher Francis Bacon (1561–1626).

Scientists collect data by observation and experiment. They
formulate theories to explain what they observe and, where possible, subject those theories to
tests.
Scientists derive from their theories predictions that can be independently checked. For example, an astronomer's theory that predicts the planet Mars will be in a certain place at a certain time can be checked by other astronomers. Tests can also take the form of controlled experiments carefully designed to be repeatable (other scientists should be able to repeat the experiment and obtain the same result). A scientific approach to testing theories emphasizes the importance of formulating theories and predictions with clarity and precision, focusing, wherever possible, on mathematically quantifiable phenomena that can be reliably measured, for example, by using a calibrated instrument.

Through the application of the scientific method, various hypotheses and theories can be, and have been, refuted. The point I want to stress here, however, is that people have been producing powerful refutations of beliefs for much longer than the four hundred years or so that the refined tool known as the “scientific method” has existed. Even today, beliefs are refuted by other means. The following are two examples.

Conceptual Refutation

Suppose an explorer claims that, on her travels, she discovered a four-sided triangle. We ask her what she means. “Was it really a
triangle
?” we ask. “You are using the word ‘triangle' with its
normal meaning?
” “Oh, yes,” she replies. “Only, the one I discovered has four sides.” It's clear that, with just a bit of elementary reasoning, we can show that our explorer has discovered no such thing. A triangle, by definition, has exactly three sides. So a triangle with four sides involves a straightforward logical contradiction—it would have to have exactly three sides but not have three sides. This is something reason alone can establish. We don't have to bother mounting our own expedition to trace our explorer's footsteps and check whether there's a four-sided triangle where she
claims. We can know,
just by thinking about it
, that there's no such thing. This refutation of the explorer's can hardly be classed as “scientific.” It's certainly not an exercise in empirical science. No observation was required. Some straightforward reflection on certain
concepts
—those of triangularity and four-sidedness—is sufficient to refute her claim.

This raises the possibility that various claims about the supernatural might also be refuted without any appeal to science. Indeed, my introduction (appendix B) provided a possible example. If we understand God to be, literally, an
agent
—a person who acts in a rational way on the basis of his beliefs and desires, but God is (or was?) also a nontemporal being, capable of existing outside of a temporal setting, then we run into similar conceptual obstacles. The concepts of agency, action, belief, desire, and so on, are, it seems, essentially temporal concepts. Talk about a nontemporal agent or person seems, on closer inspection, to make little more sense than talk of a four-sided triangle. But if that is true, then we can refute the claim that the time is itself the creation of such an agent without any appeal to empirical science. A simple conceptual argument does the trick.

So here's one way in which a rational refutation of a claim need not be a
scientific
refutation. It might be a conceptual refutation. These are, of course, the kind of arguments in which philosophers specialize.

Empirical but Non-“Scientific” Refutation

It also seems to me that even an
empirically based
refutation—that is to say, a refutation based, at least in part, on observation of the world around us—need not be “scientific.” Suppose Jim claims to have a cat stuffed inside his shirt. We carefully go around him, visually inspecting and patting every part of his shirt. We hear no “meows” and find no out-of-place bumps that might be a cat. So we conclude, reasonably, despite not having actually looked inside Jim's shirt, that there's no cat there. We
have pretty clearly refuted Jim's claim, and have done so on the basis of empirical observation. Were there really a cat inside Jim's shirt, we would surely expect to detect some signs of its presence. If, even after careful checking, we find no such signs, we are justified in supposing there's no cat there.