Category Religion

Phillip Johnson on “Judgment Day”

On Monday, Phillip Johnson appeared on the ID the Future podcast, and talked about being interviewed for
Judgment Day, the Nova episode about Intelligent Design and the Dover trial.

He said that while the producer and crew were pleasant enough, but expressed concern that the interview would be mangled in editing, possibly to make it sound as if he were saying something he didn’t mean.

So I looked him up and asked him. He replied:

I didn’t spot any misquotation, but my interview was edited almost down to nothing (not by the team that interviewed me). I guess that is good. If I had said some silly things that the senior staff at WGBH could have used to discredit ID, those moments would have been shown on the program. If I could have picked the parts of the interview to be broadcast, I could have added a little more balance to a one-sided program.

(posted with permission.)

So no obvious quote-mining or distortion. I’ll be curious to see how this compares to PZ Myers’s interview for Crossroads Win Ben Stein’s Scorn Expelled.

Rain Magic

Every so often, sophisticated theists will say that Dawkins, Hitchens, etc. misrepresent religion, that God is not an invisible sky-daddy who grants wishes, but some ineffable essence working within the laws of nature, or some such (see here, here, here).

And then something like this comes along:

That would be Gov. Sonny Perdue, who has asked Georgians to pray for rain today, and at lunchtime will convene with various religious and political leaders on the steps of the state Capitol to seek divine intervention in the state’s months-long drought.

There’s probably a polite way to say this, but I won’t (maybe I’m just cranky because it’s raining in Maryland, rather than in Georgia where they could use it): these people believe in magic. Primitive, superstitious magic, where if you say the right words and make the right gestures, the great sky spirit will grant you your wish.

Right here, in the United States, at the dawn of the 21st century. In the sixties, people thought we’d have flying cars. Instead, we have rain dances.

And this isn’t some fringe group. Not only does Governor Perdue believe that rain dances work, enough of his constituents do that he hasn’t been laughed out of office.

So, all you sensible theists out there, why aren’t you policing your own? Why aren’t you pointing out to these superstitious fools that what they’re doing is no different from spreading mistletoe on the ground and chanting? Pastors, why aren’t you educating your congregations and telling them that no, God doesn’t work that way?

In a recent speech, Daniel Dennett suggested referring to non-brights as “supers”, because they believe in the supernatural. But perhaps “super” is short for “superstitious” as well.

The Mozart Argument

Over at Dangerous Idea, Victor Reppert links to the lecture notes for a talk by Alvin Plantinga listing half a dozen (or so) arguments for the existence of God.

Down in the comments, someone asks why atheists snigger at Plantinga.

To answer that question, scroll down Plantinga’s talk to “(U) The Mozart Argument”. As far as I can tell, it’s basically:

  1. I like Mozart’s music
  2. If evolution had taken a different course, Metallica’s music would have been considered beautiful
  3. But it’s not
  4. Therefore, God exists

As Dawkins put it in The God Delusion, “That’s an argument?” To answer the commenter’s question, the reason I have such a low opinion of Plantinga is that any time I read him, he’s in one of two modes: 1) full-on obscurantism and bafflegab, or 2) tripe like the above.

Obviously, just because I don’t understand something doesn’t imply that it’s meaningless. Maybe if I put in the time to understand high-falutin’ Plantinga, it would make sense. But bullshit-drivel Plantinga makes me seriously doubt that possibility. If I may steal a line from Sam Clemens (only steal from the best!), it ain’t the parts of Plantinga that I can’t understand that bother me, it’s the parts that I do understand.

Figuring out the Trilemma of Evil

I’d never been quite satisfied with the problem of evil (if God is omnipotent, omniscient, and omnibenevolent, how can there be evil?) because it looked like a false trilemma, like C.S. Lewis’s liar, lunatic, or lord.

Lewis’s trilemma fails because it doesn’t account for all possibilities (e.g., a fourth possibility is “legend”). So how do we know that omnipotence, omniscience, and omnibenevolence cover all possibilities in the problem of evil? Granted, the fact that a lot of very smart people have looked at it for millennia, so it’s probably solid, but it always bothered me that I hadn’t seen a good demonstration that it wasn’t a false trilemma.

But then I reasoned thusly:

  1. If there is evil in the world, and God is omniscient, then God knows about it.
  2. If God knows about evil, and is omnibenevolent, then God wants to fix it.
  3. If God wants to fix evil, and is omnipotent, then God can fix it.

I like this formulation because the three parts of the argument flow from each other.

Ben Stein vs. Daniel Dennett

There are people out there who want to keep science in a little box where it can’t possibly touch God.
[…]

Scientists are not allowed to even think thoughts that involve an intelligent creator.

— Ben Stein in the teaser trailer to Expelled

There are obstacles confronting the scientific study of religion, and there are misgivings that need to be addressed. A preliminary exploration shows that it is both possible and advisable for us to turn our strongest investigative lights on religion.

Religion is not out-of-bounds to science, in spite of propaganda to the contrary from a variety of sources. Moreover, scientific inquiry is needed to inform our most momentous political decisions. There is risk and even pain involved, but it would be irresponsible to use that as an excuse for ignorance.

— Daniel Dennett, summaries of chapter 2 of Breaking the Spell, pp. 28, 53

Then there’s Victor Stenger’s book, God: the Failed Hypothesis, which considers the proposition that God exists as a testable hypothesis. Oh, and Dawkins dedicates a chapter to the God hypothesis as well in The God Delusion.

So who are these scientists that Stein is going on about, the ones who want to “keep science in a little box where it can’t possibly touch God”? Call me cynical, but I wonder if they aren’t the ones who are afraid that science would either disprove God or make him irrelevant.

Proof that We Are Beloved of God

(Update, Dec. 12: Welcome, ShoutWire-ites! I’m glad y’all liked this entry, but please don’t leave a comment if you’re retarded or can’t recognize sarcasm without a blinking 72-point smiley.)

The Astronomical Observatory of Padova gives us this picture of the large-scale structure of the universe:

Each point is a galaxy. Notice how they’re arranged in two cones that meet at a single point.

And what’s at that point? Us.

If that’s not proof that we’re at the center of the universe, the apex of God’s creation, I don’t know what is.

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Practice Safe Sex!

By now you may have heard about the late Rev. Gary Aldridge, friend of Jerry Falwell, who was dead in his home, with… well, why don’t you just read the autopsy:

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Christianity’s Ratings Falling

According to a report by the Barna Group, a Christian organization, young people’s perception of Christianity is lower now than it has been in past decades.

The study shows that 16- to 29-year-olds exhibit a greater degree of criticism toward Christianity than did previous generations when they were at the same stage of life. In fact, in just a decade, many of the Barna measures of the Christian image have shifted substantially downward, fueled in part by a growing sense of disengagement and disillusionment among young people. For instance, a decade ago the vast majority of Americans outside the Christian faith, including young people, felt favorably toward Christianity’s role in society. Currently, however, just 16% of non-Christians in their late teens and twenties said they have a “good impression” of Christianity.

Among young non-Christians, nine out of the top 12 perceptions were negative. Common negative perceptions include that present-day Christianity is judgmental (87%), hypocritical (85%), old-fashioned (78%), and too involved in politics (75%)

Interestingly, the study discovered a new image that has steadily grown in prominence over the last decade. Today, the most common perception is that present-day Christianity is “anti-homosexual.” Overall, 91% of young non-Christians and 80% of young churchgoers say this phrase describes Christianity.

Gee, no shit, Sherlock.

The article does point out that this trend is due at least in part to the fact that a smaller percentage of the US population is Christian than in decades past. It also points out that this does not seem to be a youthful phase that people grow out of as they get older.

Comments after the jump.

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Oh, Noes! Teh Gays Is Oppressing Us!

Over at Clown Hall, Kristen Fyfe—who is apparently training to become the next Ann Coulter—has a column that can be summarized as

Oh, no! Those filthy, hellbound faggots with their contagious gay cooties are displaying intolerance and denying good Christians basic human rights by parodying a religious picture! Will our oppression never end?! <clutches pearls>

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Kent Hovind, Numerologist. Also, Ravens

It sounds as though Kent Hovind is bored out of his skull in prison. His latest posting, written in the form of a conversation between himself and a self-centered, self-quoting dick of a god, he points out that the Bible can be massaged into yielding various numerical coincidences, as well as the amusing tidbit that 13+53+33 = 153. I suppose that’s a more constructive use of his time than counting ceiling tiles.

He also gives God a line about “one of the greediest birds on earth, the raven”. On the principle that if Hovind says that says that 2+2=4, you should double-check before believing it, I ran a quick Google search and ran across this article at New Scientist. Evidently, if a young raven runs across a carcass in winter, it’ll emit a loud cry that attracts other ravens who join in the feast.

Of course, there’s no such thing as perfect altruism in biology. It turns out that older, mated ravens can defend their territory against ravens who might poach on their food. Younger ravens, on the other hand, don’t have a mate to help them, so they’re at a disadvantage compared to the married ones. So when they call out, what they’re really saying is “help me defend this food against anyone who might try to take it away, and in return, I’ll share with you.”