Bahnsen on "Knowing the Supernatural" Part 3: "Defining the Metaphysical"

Continued from Part 2.

"Defining the Metaphysical"

Bahnsen opens this section of his chapter on “The Problem of Knowing the ‘Super-Natural’” by stating:

Before we can elaborate on the anti-metaphysical [i.e., anti-supernaturalistic] arguments which are commonly heard today, it would help to understand better what is meant by "metaphysics." (Always Ready, p. 178)

Is it not premature at this point to focus on anti-supernaturalistic arguments “which are commonly heard today,” before we examine any pro-supernaturalistic arguments, or before Bahnsen even proposes how one can have awareness and confirm the existence of what he calls “the supernatural”? After all, isn’t that what the title of this chapter of Bahnsen’s book leads one to expect to find in it? Had he titled his chapter “Common Arguments Against Supernaturalism,” or something along those lines, then we would rightly expect to find Bahnsen focus on reviewing anti-supernaturalistic arguments from the get go. But this is not the case. Moreover, if Bahnsen acknowledges that “knowing the ‘super-natural’” is in fact problematic, as the title he did choose for his chapter suggests, why doesn’t he discuss the means and methods by which one can know “the supernatural” before turning the spotlight on arguments against “the supernatural”? Wouldn’t Bahnsen’s readers benefit more from his “precision” and “brilliance” if he illuminated a credible context substantiating belief in “the supernatural” before elaborating on common arguments against “the supernatural”? After all, if Bahnsen is confident in his position, why does he worry so much about what the naysayers might be thinking in the first place?

Bahnsen continues:

This is a technical word that is rarely used outside of academic circles; it will not even be part of the vocabulary of most Christians. Nevertheless, the conception of metaphysics and the reaction to it which can be found in academic circles will definitely touch and have an impact on the life of the believer - either in terms of the popular attacks on the faith which he or she must answer, or even in terms of the way in which the Christian religion is portrayed and presented in the pulpit. (Always Ready, p. 178)

Bahnsen’s followers often point out that Always Ready was written with the unsophisticated lay-believer in mind. Given the condescending attitude of many presuppositionalists, one might get the impression that admitting that there are unsophisticated believers walking around would be anathema to the presuppositionalist program. Inherent in the presuppositional apologetic program is the insistence that non-believers “account for” how they “make sense” of their experience as human beings in the world, as if believing in Christianity’s stories somehow enlightened an individual with their “Spirit-renewed minds” such that questions like this would be easy to address. Nonetheless, it is good that Bahnsen acknowledges, at least performatively through the content of his book, that many believers are not very familiar with philosophy, and thus need philosophical terms explained to them. One would hope that such believers reading Bahnsen’s book may become more interested in philosophy, and begin asking a few critical questions as they go through Bahnsen’s celebrated primer.

Bahnsen explains what metaphysics studies as follows:

It is often said that metaphysics is the study of "being." It might be more illuminating if we wrote that metaphysics studies "being" - that is, questions about existence ("to be, or not to be"). Metaphysics asks, what is it to exist? And, what sorts of things do exist? Thus the metaphysician is interested to know about fundamental distinctions (i.e., the basic classes of things that exist) and important similarities (i.e., the essential nature of the members of these classes). (Always Ready, p. 178)

So, “metaphysics is the study of ‘being’,” the branch of philosophy which “studies ‘being’- that is, questions about existence...” It should be clear, however, that rejection of supernaturalism in no way entails a rejection of “the study of ‘being’” or a branch of philosophy which “studies ‘being’ – that is, questions about existence...” It should not be difficult to see that one can reject supernaturalism and yet still pursue a study of existence, for there is no conflict in accepting the fact that existence exists and yet rejecting the notion of “the supernatural.”

Compare Peikoff’s conception of metaphysics: “Metaphysics is the branch of philosophy that studies the nature of the universe as a whole.” (OPAR, p 3) According to Peikoff’s worldview, Objectivism, ‘universe’ is defined as “the sum total of existence,” such that ‘universe’ is a concept which includes anything and everything that exists. (See my blogs Responding to Chris and Exapologist’s Message to Non-Theists for some elaboration on this.)

I point this out here because Bahnsen will soon use the phrase “anti-metaphysical” when he really means “anti-supernatural.” He will refer to thinkers who reject “the supernatural”; I, for instance, am such a thinker. However, my worldview has a branch of philosophy called “metaphysics,” so it should be clear that I am in no way “anti-metaphysical.” But I do reject the notion of “the supernatural” (for reasons that should be crystal clear by the end of my review of Bahnsen’s essay), so one could refer to my position as “anti-supernatural.” My position is anti-supernatural just as and for the same reasons that it is anti-irrational.

Bahnsen elaborates a little further:

He seeks the ultimate causes or explanations for the existence and nature of things. He wants to understand the limits of possible reality, the modes of existing, and the interrelations of existing things. (Always Ready, p. 178)

I am always curious to know better what Christians mean by “cause” and “causality” when they make use of such words in propounding their worldview’s metaphysical position. (I have written on this before: see my blog Presuppositionalism vs. Causality.) Many Christians (in fact, all that I have discussed this with) speak of the universe having some prior cause. This tells me either that their conception of the universe is radically different from mine or that their conception of causality is. It is likely that both are radically different from mine, which is why I wonder what they mean when they use these terms. Christians make use of the same words, but it’s a different language with its own private meanings. I am all for eliminating such barriers to understanding, which is why I am happy to supply definitions of my terms. Above I mentioned that by ‘universe’ my worldview means the sum totality of existence. By ‘causality’ I essentially mean the identity of action, for causality is the application of the law of identity to action. Causality is the recognition that the relationship between an entity and its actions is a necessary relationship. On this view, existence is a precondition of causality, for action requires an entity (which exists) to do the action so identified. As one Objectivist philosopher points out, “you can’t have a dance without the dancer.” (Kelley, Induction) So if causality presupposes existence (which it obviously does), and the universe includes by definition everything that exists, then talk of causality could only make sense within the context of the universe, not outside it. To speak of causality outside or “prior to” the universe, would be like talking about a dance taking place without any dancers. If someone pointed to an empty stage with no one on it and asked “Do you like the dance?” we would rightly ask “What dance?” The same is the case with many things I have heard Christians argue in their apologetic defenses of their god-belief.

But none of these points seems to be of any concern for Bahnsen, for he does not stop to illuminate them. He is concerned here only with giving a broad definition of the study of metaphysics, and surreptitiously smuggling his supernatural premises in through the back door. Things like the relationship between causes and existence might be expected to come later, but sadly they don’t.

Then Bahnsen writes:

It should be obvious, then, if only in an elementary way, that Christianity propounds a number of definite metaphysical claims. (Always Ready, p. 178)

Yes, Christianity does advance quite a number of claims, and those claims do have their share of metaphysical commitments, commitments which most Christians themselves do not fully understand, or perhaps do not even want to understand, as the case may be with religious belief. And while Bahnsen is aware that “Christianity propounds a number of definite metaphysical claims,” he nowhere discusses the issue of metaphysical primacy, i.e., the proper orientation in the subject-object relationship. I have discussed this matter at length elsewhere (see here, here, here, here, here, here, here and here, for instance), so I will try not repeat myself at length in the present review. But above, Bahnsen pointed out that “the metaphysician is interested to know about fundamental distinctions,” and yet what distinction is more fundamental and more important to a discussion of knowledge than the distinction between an object and the cognitive means by which one acquires awareness of it? This is the distinction between the knower and what he knows, between the objects he perceives and the faculty by which he perceives it. The relationship between the subject of experience and the objects one experiences is ever-present in one’s waking life. So long as you are conscious, you are conscious of something, and so long as you are conscious of something, there is a relationship between your consciousness and the something you are conscious of. It is inescapable. And any discussion of knowledge, of philosophy, of its major branches, of its purpose, etc., involves this relationship, even if only implicitly, for knowledge and philosophy involve consciousness.

But nowhere in his discussion of metaphysics or “the supernatural” does Bahnsen even seem aware of the importance of this crucial distinction, let alone show any concern for it. Most people acknowledge that there is a distinction between reality and imagination, between what is actual and what is fictitious. Even many Christians acknowledge that something is not true because one wishes it to be true. The root of such recognitions is the relationship between the subject of consciousness and the object of consciousness. The fundamental question in metaphysics, then, is: do the objects of consciousness exist independent of consciousness, or do they depend on consciousness? Is reality merely an invention of the (or some) mind? Or, does it exist independent of any minds? Do the objects of consciousness conform to the dictates of consciousness, or are they what they are regardless of the content of consciousness? Does the subject of consciousness hold metaphysical primacy over its objects (subjectivism)? Or, do the objects of consciousness hold metaphysical primacy over the subject (objectivism)? These are fundamental questions which are of central importance to a rational approach to metaphysics, and yet we shall not find Bahnsen discussing them anywhere in his defense of supernaturalism. Needless to say, this would concern me if I were a Christian looking to Bahnsen for apologetic guidance.

by Dawson Bethrick

Bahnsen on "Knowing the Supernatural" Part 2: "The Reproach of the Transcendent"

Continued from Part 1.

"The Reproach of the Transcendent"

Bahnsen quickly shows his concern for how non-Christians react to Christianity’s claims:

Those who are not Christians will often assume that the natural world is all there is, in which case nobody can know things about the "super-natural" (whatever surpasses the limits of nature). (Always Ready, p. 177)

Ever one to constrain definitions of key terms to parenthetical asides, Bahnsen does at least make it clear that by “super-natural” he means “whatever surpasses the limits of nature.”

What does it mean to “surpass the limits of nature”? Bahnsen, in all his renowned precision and brilliance, does not bother to explain. In fact he doesn’t even seem to recognize any need to explain further, even though the title of his chapter implies that his task is to clarify how one can know “the supernatural,” suggesting that he intends to divulge the workings of a process by which one can acquire knowing awareness of “whatever surpasses the limits of nature.” Wouldn’t an explanation of exactly what he means by “whatever surpasses the limits of nature” be germane to such a task?

This conception, whose subject is represented by the pronoun “whatever,” is probably more open-ended than Bahnsen would have liked, but ultimately this cannot be avoided when it comes to such matters as “the supernatural” and Christianity’s claims. However “the supernatural” is to be defined, it needs to be wide enough for Christianity to fit neatly within it. The expression “whatever surpasses the limits of nature” fits the bill for Bahnsen, and can refer to just about anything one can imagine. And as I have concluded elsewhere, a believer’s imagination is crucial to the survival of his religious beliefs.

Bahnsen, however, would probably object to interpretations of his conception of “the supernatural” involving any use of the imagination. He was often serious about the realm he called “supernatural” being real and not imaginary. “God’s plan and purpose (and not our imaginations),” he tells us elsewhere, “determine whatever comes to pass.” (Van Til’s Apologetic: Readings & Analysis, p. 224) So then, at this point, we need to be able to distinguish between “whatever we can imagine” and what Bahnsen means by “whatever surpasses the limits of nature.” But since Bahnsen did not think to anticipate this problem, we are left to our own. So we can turn to “the here and now,” even though (as we have seen) Bahnsen doesn’t seem to like it, and see what lessons we can pull from our experience in the real world.

One thing that reality teaches us whenever something “surpasses the limits of nature,” is that death and destruction follow. One thing's for sure: when death and destruction strike in reality, it is not imaginary. Examples include, but are not limited to: the RMS Titanic, which sank, killing some 1500 or so passengers and crew, when its collision with an iceberg in the North Atlantic in 1912 caused its hull to “surpass the limits” of its integrity; the USS Arizona, which sank, killing almost 1200 crewmembers on board at the time, when an explosion caused by an attack by Japanese aircraft on Dec. 7, 1941 caused its onboard structures to “surpass the limits” of their suitability to sustain human life; the walkway of the Kansas City Hyatt Regency which collapsed, killing 114 people and injuring more than 200 others in July 1981, when the weight of spectators gathered on the elevated walkway caused its structural design to “surpass the limits” of its load-bearing capacity, etc. These are just a few examples that come to mind when considering the expression “whatever surpasses the limits of nature.” And of course, I do not doubt that these things happened. Indeed, I would hope that later generations learn what dangers await when something “surpasses the limits of nature.”

Christians can be expected to retort to these examples by telling us that they do not represent what is meant by the expression “whatever surpasses the limits of nature.” If so, it is incumbent upon them to clarify what they mean by “supernatural.” They do not want the expression to concede to what men imagine, but they also do not want it to imply destruction to human life either. Most likely, they need a better definition than what Bahnsen provided.

But one thing that is clear, given Bahnsen’s stated conception of “the supernatural,” is that it concedes the primacy of the natural over the supernatural, at least conceptually. For it is against what we determine to be natural (in “the ‘here-and-now’”) that Bahnsen wants to inform his conception of “the supernatural.” That is, to “know the supernatural,” we must first know what is natural, and “whatever surpasses the limits of” what we determine to be natural (“the ‘here-and-now’” that is), is therefore to be categorized as “supernatural.” But while on this analysis knowledge of the natural comes logically prior to any alleged knowledge of “the supernatural” (for it is defined in contrasting reference to the natural), Christians still want to claim that “the supernatural” holds metaphysical and moral primacy over the natural. After all, they want to claim that the natural was “created” by “the supernatural.” Bahnsen himself seemed to recognize this to some degree when he wrote:

In the process of knowing anything, man begins with his own experience and questions – the “immediate” starting point. However, that which man knows metaphysically begins with God (who preinterprets, creates, and governs everything man could know), and God’s mind is epistemologically the standard of truth – thus being the “ultimate” starting point. (Van Til’s Apologetic: Readings & Analysis, p. 100n. 33)

So for Bahnsen, the leap from the “immediate” experience known directly and firsthand by an individual subject, to the “’ultimate’ starting point” of Christian supernaturalism, is warranted. How exactly such a leap is justified, remains unclear, and without any viable method of distinguishing between “the supernatural” and the imaginary, it seems dubious at best. For we have already seen that faith, which Bahnsen conceives as a belief, “precedes knowledgeable understanding” (Always Ready, p. 88). So this “’ultimate’ starting point” is affirmed on the basis of belief that is accepted before it is understood.

Bahnsen apparently understood that talk of “the supernatural” invites differing opinions and contentions:

In philosophical circles, discussions and debates about questions like these fall within the area of study known as "meta-physics." As you might expect, this division of philosophical investigation is usually a hotbed of controversy between conflicting schools of thought. More recently, the entire enterprise of metaphysics has in itself become a hotbed of controversy. (Always Ready, p. 177)

It is true that, in at least some philosophical circles, thinkers advocate for the plausibility of various “supernatural” explanations, and do so under the guise of metaphysics. And naturally, one would expect a high degree of controversy in such discussions, for anyone defending “the supernatural” will have nothing objective to point to in defense of his pronouncements. Consequently when one supernaturalist encounters another supernaturalist, neither will have any rational way of finally settling any conflict that may arise between them. Because reason and objectivity have been abandoned, controversy ensues without remedy. History has shown this to be the case between religions as well as among various factions within a religion.

Bahnsen’s error from this point forward, is that he frequently conflates “metaphysics” with “supernaturalism” per se. Throughout the rest of this chapter, he will often use the words “metaphysics” or “metaphysical” when in fact the context of his point indicates that he really has some form of supernaturalism in mind. Even Bahnsen’s own definitions do not support such a confusion, as we shall see. Bahnsen makes use of this switch in order to grant his mystical views an initial degree of unearned credibility within the discussion, thereby excusing himself from the heavy lifting we would like to have seen. Therefore, going forward, when quoting from Bahnsen’s chapter, any time he uses the word “metaphysics” where actually he means some association with “the supernatural,” I will point this out (such as with brackets).

Bahnsen complains about the increase of negative reactions among academics and lay thinkers alike, to claims involving “the supernatural”:

Over the last two centuries a mindset has developed which is hostile toward any philosophical claim which is metaphysical [i.e., supernaturalistic] in character. It is clear to most students that antipathy to the Christian faith has been the primary and motivating factor in such attacks. Nevertheless, such criticism has been generalized into a pervasive antagonism toward any claims which are similarly "metaphysical" [i.e., supernaturalistic]. This anti-metaphysical [i.e., anti-supernaturalistic] attitude has been one of the crucial ingredients which have molded culture and history over the last two hundred years. It has altered common views regarding man and ethics, it has generated a radical reformulation of religious beliefs, and it has significantly affected perspectives ranging from politics to pedagogy. Consequently a very large number of the skeptical questions or challenges directed against the Christian faith are either rooted in, or colored by, this negative spirit with respect to metaphysics [i.e., supernaturalism]. (Always Ready, p. 178)

Bahnsen complains that, essentially since the Age of Reason, men no longer readily lay down their minds before the local mystic in the numbers that they used to, that many people now offer up resistance where before they were suggestible and domitable. Non-believers are no longer burnt at the stake for their non-belief, for instance, and this irks people like Bahnsen. In fact, Bahnsen’s remarks read like a pining soliloquy to a more primitive past, asking something along the lines of “What happened to the church, that it no longer defines civilization in its own image any more? What happened to the good old days of the Dark Ages, when everyone feared and believed and no one dared to defy the man of the cloth? What happened to the inheritance I was promised?”

By complaining thusly, Bahnsen effectively diverts the attention of his reader away from the task at hand, namely "the problem of knowing the ‘super-natural’," which he never intended to settle anyway. This paragraph, the fourth in the whole chapter, serves as a segue to focusing the reader’s attention on the spoilsports: the non-believers, the atheists, the skeptics, the people who look at Christianity’s and any other religion’s supernatural claims and ask “How could anyone believe such garbage?” Instead of identifying any means by which one could acquire awareness of what he calls “the supernatural,” Bahnsen wants to discredit what he will call “anti-metaphysical arguments,” meaning anti-supernatural arguments, well before they've even been heard. Isn’t this essentially what theists are objecting to when they accuse non-believers of “anti-supernatural bias”?

Throughout his discussion, Bahnsen assumes the reality of what he calls “the supernatural” and the truth of the Christian bible, indicating that he never intended to provide any instruction whatsoever on how one can know either in the first place. This is the mentality of a Dark Ages priest: “How dare ye argue against my magic kingdom! Of course it exists! You’re not supposed to argue against its reality, you’re supposed to believe in fear and trembling on my say so!” Only in this unspoken context does Bahnsen’s essay make any sense.

by Dawson Bethrick

Bahnsen on "Knowing the Supernatural" Part 1: Introduction

I. Introduction

Bahnsen titles the thirty-first chapter of his oft-celebrated apologetics book Always Ready “The Problem of Knowing the ‘Super-Natural’.” Given this title, one might expect that in this chapter Bahnsen will illuminate his readers on how one can confidently acquire and validate knowledge about what he calls “the supernatural.” Unfortunately, anyone expecting this is in for a big disappointment. He leaves so many obvious and basic questions untouched that it should become clear to any reader that something other than informing his readers on how to discover what he claims to know must be the focus of this chapter.

Nonetheless a thorough review of Bahnsen's chapter on "knowing the supernatural" is relevant to an exploration of presuppositional apologetics. Defenders of Christianity often complain that non-believers approach apologetic arguments with an “anti-supernatural bias,” an unsavory obstacle which presumably clouds the non-believer’s judgment with inherently anti-theistic leanings. According to these apologists, it is because of this bias that arguments in defense of Christianity are not given a fair hearing. This prejudice against “the supernatural,” it is said, is very real and very widespread. As one believer puts it,

There is also an unwarranted anti-supernatural bias in academia and elsewhere which causes many to dismiss certain Christian doctrines without a fair consideration. (Testimony of a YEC Missionary)

If, however, after giving Christian defenses the “fair consideration” that apologists think they deserve, we conclude that they are unsound or insufficient to their task, then it would be fair to say that our rejection of those doctrines is not based on some "unwarranted anti-supernatural bias." Moreover, since many apologists cite “anti-supernatural bias” as an impediment to accepting Christianity’s theistic claims, they imply at the same time that an inclination to accept supernaturalism as a legitimate source of explanation is at least in part a key factor in endorsing those claims. Thus an examination of how believers conceive, defend and claim to be able to know “the supernatural” is important to fending off the often-repeated charge of an “unwarranted anti-supernatural bias,” which is intended to brand the accused of some unjustifiable misconduct in regard to the underlying context on which religious beliefs are held. If this so-called “bias” against supernaturalism in fact turns out to be a rationally warranted wariness of that which is contrary to objective reality, then it seems that the apologist should have no more objection to such “bias” than he might have against any rationally secured stance. After all, since rationality is the commitment to reason as one’s only means of knowledge and his only guide to action, a rational individual could easily be accused of possessing an anti-irrational bias. And who would have a problem with an anti-irrational bias, other than an irrationalist?

By reviewing what Bahnsen says when he takes his opportunity to treat “the problem of knowing the ‘super-natural’,” we can safely put to rest those complaints raised by proponents of supernatural claims that insinuate unjust prejudice on the part of non-believers. Among the many points which I hope to bring out in my thoroughgoing analysis of Bahnsen’s presentation, I will show that he in fact offers nothing to explain how one can “know” something that is “supernatural” as he conceives of it, specifically that he fails to identify any means by which one could have awareness of what he calls “the supernatural” or provide any objective method by which one can safely and confidently distinguish between what Bahnsen calls “the supernatural” and what he very well may be imagining. So long as any of these three issues are left outstanding and unattended, especially when feigning to address the question of how one could “know the supernatural,” the suspicion that our leg is being pulled is thereby fortified all the more. Without knowing the means by which we can have awareness of what Bahnsen calls “supernatural,” or the method by which “the supernatural” can be identified and distinguished from imagination or mere error of cognition, we have no business accepting claims about “the supernatural” and thus are sufficiently warranted in rejecting such claims. We will see over and over throughout my analysis that Bahnsen bombs out on each point, and in fact gives us a few lessons along the way on what is dangerously wrong with supernaturalism.

Let us give the floor to Bahnsen and consider his case as he assembles it. Throughout my analysis I use his sub-chapter headings as section titles.

Chapter 31: The Problem of Knowing the “Super-Natural”

Bahnsen begins his case on p. 177, where he opens with the following statement:

The Christian faith as defined by Biblical revelation teaches a number of things which are not restricted to the realm of man's temporal experience - things about an invisible God, His triune nature, the origin of the universe, the regularity of the created order, angels, miracles, the afterlife, etc. These are precisely the sort of claims which unbelievers most often find objectionable.

It is true that Christianity “teaches a number of things” which are not confirmed by methods independent of what Bahnsen calls “Biblical revelation.” That is, they do not constitute knowledge which can be acquired and validated by a process of cognition suited to the kind of consciousness which man possesses. (I elaborate on this point in my blog The Axioms and the Primacy of Existence.)

If Christianity’s claims could be acquired and validated by a process suited to the kind of consciousness which man possesses, it would not need to rest those claims on an appeal to divine revelation in the first place. On the contrary, the “knowledge” which Christianity claims on its own behalf is something that is allegedly bestowed upon man, transmitted into his mind by a supernatural agent, which seems to do away with the need for a theory of knowledge in the first place. Herein lies the root of the contradiction in Christianity’s claim to truth: we are to accept as knowledge something that is beyond our ability to actually know. Perhaps this is why John Frame, presumably speaking for all Christians, admits that “We know without knowing how we know.” (Presuppositional Apologetics: An Introduction (Part 1)) So the question of how the believer could know what he claims to know, seems unanswerable on this basis. But while Bahnsen’s concern is that “unbelievers... find objectionable” the kinds of claims that Christianity makes, the inquiring reader may very well be more interested in learning why one might accept those claims in the first place. That is, what do claims about “the supernatural” have going for them? After all, a careful thinker does not accept claims indiscriminately. On the contrary, he will weigh their merits first, considering any substantiation given on their behalf, and rejecting those which he deems unfit for consumption. Bahnsen might object that we are already on the wrong track by presuming to have any cognitive ability in the first place.

Bahnsen continues (ibid.):

The objection is that such claims are about transcendent matters - things which go beyond day-to-day human experience. The triune Creator exists beyond the temporal order; the afterlife is not part of our ordinary observations in this world, etc. If the unbeliever is accustomed to thinking that people can only know things based upon, and pertaining to, the "here-and-now," then the Christian's claims about the transcendent are an intellectual reproach.

While I cannot speak for all non-believers, I don’t think the primary objection non-believers raise against Christianity and other religions is that their “claims are about transcendent matters – things which go beyond day-to-day human experience.” For instance, I do not need to directly experience something in order to accept claims about it as truthful. I have never been to Australia, for instance, but I have known people who have, and when they tell me of their experiences – experiences which I have not had – I do not reject their claims on the basis that I myself did not experience the things they have experienced. If my friend who traveled to Australia tells me that he went snorkeling near a coral reef, I have no problem accepting this, even though I have never gone snorkeling near a coral reef in Australia myself. If, however, he told me that he climbed a snow-covered peak over 20,000 feet high in Western Australia, I would think he is mistaken, for I understand that the highest point on the Australian mainland does not even reach 7500 feet and is located in New South Wales. So if a claim contradicts knowledge that I have already validated, why should I accept it as truth?

Now as an adult thinker, I have learned my way around the world in which I live enough to be able to know when a claim is arbitrary, that is, when there is no evidence to support it and no good reason to accept it as truth. For instance, suppose my friend tells me that, while returning from Australia, he visited a place called Nathirisia, whose inhabitants are 10-feet tall, have four arms and can levitate at will. Such a claim I would dismiss out of hand as arbitrary, even though he has demonstrated trustworthiness in other affairs. Further, I would interpret any objection against my dismissal of such claims as a roundabout endorsement of sheer gullibility, or worse, a refusal to discriminate between fact and fiction.

Which brings us back to Bahnsen’s plight. He tells us that a “triune Creator exists beyond the temporal order.” Well, why would anyone believe this? If we were told that there is a band of gremlins convening on a planet revolving around the planet Betelgeuse over the problem of universals, why would we accept it? How would someone know this? How would a careful thinker know this? Bahnsen has been hailed as a most careful thinker. On the rear jacket of Bahnsen’s book, for instance, we find a quote by Douglas Wilson who writes “Greg Bahnsen’s mind was nothing if not precise.” Another quote, by Stephen C. Perks, holds that “Greg Bahnsen was a brilliant scholar.” Other writers have had similarly glowing things to say about Bahnsen. With such praise, one would expect Bahnsen to deliver a genuine tour de force when it comes to substantiating his claims before an audience of careful thinkers, especially if he expected some of them to be skeptical of his claims. Presumably it is in this chapter – “The Problem of Knowing the ‘Super-Natural’" – where Bahnsen gives a “precise” and “brilliant” explanation of how one can acquire knowledge of what he calls “the Super-Natural.” If he is so concerned about non-Christians coming into the knowledge that Christians claim to have, or at any rate about providing believers with the means they need to defend Christianity’s claims, then surely such an explanation would be in order.

For reasons that remain unclear, Bahnsen seems to have a problem with basing knowledge on "the ‘here-and-now’," which I take to mean the realm of objects which we directly perceive. But if anything, this is what we are aware of first: we know that “the ‘here-and-now’” exists and is real, and it is in our very own presence. What’s more is that it includes us and gives context to our present knowledge. The “here and now” has the advantage of close proximity, while what may be taking place on a planet revolving around Betelgeuse or “beyond the temporal order” is not within the reach of our awareness. It is certainly not within the reach of mine. But Bahnsen claimed to possess knowledge from “beyond the temporal order,” and seemed quite irritated with those who were not willing to accept his claim to such knowledge, calling them “dull, stubborn, boorish, obstinate and stupid” (Always Ready, p. 56). Bahnsen must have been so intelligent that he baffles those who do not confess belief in invisible magic beings.

by Dawson Bethrick

The Presuppositionalist View of Man's Consciousness

The presuppositionalist literature says little of any substance about the nature of consciousness. But even the little that is found in this corpus of longwinded apologetic text is more than you will find in the bible itself. So when a mid-rank apologist makes explicit reference to the nature of man's consciousness, I'm always ready to lend an ear.

Gregg Strawbridge describes the conditions of man's consciousness in his so-called "unregenerate state":

Van Til makes these implications concerning this state of man's consciousness: (1) man sets himself to be judge (2) man denies God's control of the universe (3) man's thoughts and ideas are not "thinking God's thoughts after Him," but are claiming pure originality and truth in their interpretation of the external world (4) man views the external factual world as brute facts without their interpretation in God and thus, the universe is controlled by chance. The unregenerate consciousness is viewed as the abnormal state, biblically. All unregenerate reasoning reflects these implications. ( Defending the Lion: Presuppositionalism or a Classical Approach, Must We Choose?)

The most noteworthy thing I notice when reviewing statements like this is not in what it says, but in what it doesn't say. Strawbridge makes no reference - either in this passage or in the essay from which it is excerpted - about the nature of the relationship consciousness has to its objects. This is not surprising, for as I have already demonstrated in numerous papers (from my blog alone, see for instance here, here, here, here, here, here and here), the religious view of the world stands on the primacy of the subject in metaphysics, that is: on a basis of metaphysical subjectivism. And yet, no philosophical discussion of the nature of consciousness will be complete without some attention to the issue of metaphysical primacy.

Now let's look at what Strawbridge does say, point by point.

Strawbridge's first point is:

(1) man sets himself to be judge

A judge is someone capable of passing critical judgment. By "sets himself to be judge," I understand this to refer to man’s firsthand exercise of his own faculty of critical judgment. The fact that judgment is an essential function of man's mind is inescapable. If man wants to live, he has no choice about his need to exercise his own judgment: he has to judge the things and people he encounters in life for himself, for his life depends on this. He needs to judge for himself his situation, his own decisions, the character of others, the claims of truth that others make, and the outcomes that affect his values. He needs to judge according to what he knows and according to his own hierarchy of values. There are no substitutes here, and no imaginary being can fulfill this need on behalf of those who are willing to sacrifice their own judgment. On a rational view of man, man’s exercise of his own judgment is not only a good thing, it is one man’s highest virtues. But according to the religious view of man, it is a symptom of his depravity and evidence of his inherent contemptuousness. But this kind of assessment of what rational philosophy considers to be one of man’s crowning virtues is itself an implication of religion’s internal incoherence. Indeed, it seems most illogical to create man with the ability to judge, and yet consider him defective for exercising that ability. According to Van Til's brand of presuppositional apologists, it is "abnormal" for man to judge things for himself. Why should we trust their judgment, when even according to their own terms it is self-negating?

Man’s reliance on his own judgment bothers religionists because they want man to replace his judgment with theirs. They want man to sacrifice their judgment along with his spirit, his love for his own life, his desire to live and enjoy his existence on his own terms. Religionists do not approve of man's uncoerced exercise of his own faculty of judgment; they want man to seek their permission before doing so, and permission will be granted only so long as the religionists have a say on what inputs are factored into his judgments and what conclusions it will produce. This is all part of the desire that all men submit themselves to an alleged "higher authority" which the religionist concocts in his imagination and refers to by some name (Christians call it "God," Muslims call it "Alah," the Lahu tribesmen call it "Geusha," etc.).

Critical judgment is thus anathema to the religious mindset, and religious leaders know this and their fear is that it will spread if it is not suppressed. This is why they seek every opportunity they can get to undermine man’s cognition; they want to pull the rug out from underneath all his judgments. They intend to dynamite all of a thinker’s “presuppositions” – no matter what they might be, no matter what the cost, because the desired outcome is not “the Truth” or “righteousness” or any other feigned piety, but simply more fish in the nets. An uncritical fish is always going to be easier to catch.

The religionists do not want any man to think that he can live his life according to his own terms, for this in and of itself poses a formidable threat to the authority they claim on behalf of their imaginary deity. Because of this, a thinking, judging mind is taken by the apologist as an affront to his religious program, so it comes as no surprise that apologists would want to cite man's use of his mind to judge things as a point of guilt against him. Man’s "sin" - on the religious view that Strawbridge recites here - is that he thinks and judges on his own terms. The “ideal” which Christianity would have man adopt is that he become like an unthinking fish who, as believers were themselves, can be easily netted by their predatory techniques. A thinking, judging man is less likely to be bamboozled by schemes that are meant for unthinking fish, and preponderance of thinking, judging individuals in society would skew the intellectual marketplace against the religionists’ program.

Strawbridge's second point is:

(2) man denies God's control of the universe

This is simply the believer’s own point of view being projected as if it had significance beyond the constructs of Christian imagination. It doesn’t, but it shows how narrow that point of view really is. For it could just as easily be said that man (at least some men, anyway) denies Allah's control of the universe, Osiris' control of the universe, Geusha's control of the universe, Blarko's control of the universe, etc., etc., etc. All of this can be said of the atheist to the very same degree that the Christian can say he denies the Christian god's control of the universe. A more accurate (and less impassioned) way of stating the point is to say that the atheist simply does not assume that any invisible magic being controls the universe. Whether the atheist recognizes it or not, this position is in keeping with the primacy of existence metaphysics, for it essentially holds that the universe exists independent of consciousness. This is the fundamental premise which Christianity denies; and denial of this fundamental premise is what is common to the varieties of religious belief that Christians would prefer to ignore, as we saw above.

The thesis that “man denies God’s control of the universe” of course suggests that the assumption that some invisible supernatural being does control the universe is self-evident in some way, or at least unmistakable. It takes the god premise totally for granted without explaining why. But from the perspective of rational philosophy, that is the question which the theist will never be able to answer: Why would an honest man affirm that an invisible supernatural being does "control... the universe" in the first place? Why would an honest man assume the cartoon universe premise when it's obvious that the universe is not analogous to a cartoon?

Strawbridge's third point is:

(3) man's thoughts and ideas are not "thinking God's thoughts after Him," but are claiming pure originality and truth in their interpretation of the external world.

Like the prior two points, this point is essentially a misdirected complaint. If the believer truly believes that there is a god and that this god created the universe and every man within it, then logically all deficiencies trace back to this creator. It does no good to tell man that he was created by an omnipotent, all-knowing deity according to an “eternal plan,” and then rail against him for not conforming to the believer’s conception of that plan.

As the believer seeks to manufacture guilt on the part of outsiders in order to deaden his conscience to the pangs resulting from adopting such a deeply contorted worldview, he now construes the outsider’s very use of his own mind as a symptom of antithesis to the god he imagines. And in an ironic sense that he does not anticipate, the believer is right: the rational man does think with his own mind. In actuality, man has no choice about the facts that the thoughts he thinks are his own – for cognition is a firsthand faculty of the self, and that he lacks the ability to read other minds – as if he could magically access their contents. Christianity thus holds man guilty for adhering to facts which he cannot change.

But it is not the case – and the theologians routinely fail to produce any argument in support of their distortions – that the thinking man claims that his every thought is originally his. A rational man is happy to accept those ideas which he determines to be true and relevant to his overall self-interest from others. This is most obvious in the case of learning directly from another individual, such as from a co-worker at a new job.

It’s silly for the apologist to assert that a thinker claims “pure originality” on behalf of his thoughts, simply because he does not believe in some invisible magic being. It is silly accusations such as this which apologists cling to in order to make their task of discrediting non-believers all the easier. But convenience is no standard when it comes to discerning what is true.

Strawbridge's final point is:

(4) man views the external factual world as brute facts without their interpretation in God and thus, the universe is controlled by chance.

A rational worldview affirms the objective theory of facts, which teaches that facts are data belonging to the reality which obtain independent of conscious actions. This theory is in direct compliance with the metaphysical primacy of existence, which holds that the objects of consciousness exist and are what they are independent of consciousness. Facts are something which consciousness discovers, not creates or dictates. The alternative to this view is some form of subjectivism (see for instance Theism and Subjective Metaphysics), which essentially reverses the relationship between consciousness and its objects that the objective theory of facts assumes. It is by nature necessarily invalid by any objective measure.

The objectivity of facts is so consistently attested by our every experience that it could only be a form of wishful thinking to suppose that facts conform to anyone's conscious actions. It is something that is so obviously true that we take it for granted, and many philosophers seem to find it degrading when it is pointed out to them. And yet it is not only true, but also fundamental. Who walks along a road and expects its course to change according to his shifting preferences? Should one truly believe that reality will rearrange itself and conform its particulars to what he believes, wishes, yearns for, fears or imagines?

So why even suppose that the universe is controlled by some central force (e.g., "chance," Geusha, the Christian god, Star Wars' "the Force," etc.) in the first place? Christians naturally assume this as part of their worldview's teachings, because their worldview assumes the primacy of consciousness metaphysics as its most fundamental premise. Apologists do not validate this premise, for they cannot. In fact, defenders of theism seem conspicuously unaware of the issue of metaphysical primacy, until of course it is brought to their attention. But even then, they have no uniform response to it, which is precisely what we would expect from those who adopt a worldview premised on the primacy of consciousness.

But notice the false dichotomy implicit in point (4): either the universe is controlled by the Christian god, or by "chance." To understand this dichotomy better, we need to know what the presuppositionalists mean by "chance." John Frame defines 'chance' as

events that occur without cause or reason. (A Van Til Glossary)

How does the absence of the assumption that the Christian god is controlling everything imply adherence to the view that "events... occur without cause or reason"? This is never explained. In fact, the presuppositional apologist seems completely unable to give any reason why the only alternative to the presumption of divine supervision of the universe's "internal affairs" must be that "events... occur without cause or reason." Snow melting on a mountainside is not something that "occur[s] without cause or reason" - it occurs because the sun warms the snow to its melting point; and yet the theist gives no reason why we should suppose that an invisible supernatural being brings this about. Such false dichotomies themselves are not arguments, but they are often used in place of arguments in order to pummel non-believers into submission. After all, who would want to take the position that the events which occur in the universe, "occur without cause or reason"? The false dichotomy is asserted by the apologist in the hopes that its insidious premises will be accepted without question. Fortunately, the objective theory of facts means we can dismiss such false dichotomies without further ado. (See my blog Presuppositionalism vs. Causality)

If man is not supposed to exercise his own faculty of judgment, assume the non-cartoon universe of atheism, use his own mind, and apply the objective theory of facts, what's the ideal? Strawbridge describes Christianity's preferred alternative as follows:

Regenerate Consciousness--This is the renewed state of believers in which the mind, will, and emotions seek submission under their Creator. The intellect no longer assumes the ultimate place, but seeks revelation that it might be brought to total submission.

That explains a lot, for I do not know Christians for their intellect. Rather, I know them for their lust for sacrifice, specifically for impaling their intellect on the dull points of their dogma.

by Dawson Bethrick

The Role of Imagination in Christian God-Belief

John Loftus recently posted a blog on Debunking Christianity which asks Why Do Christians Believe? He reviews several explanations proposed in response to this question, and also proposes his own take on it. For instance, he suggests that

the mind is so impressionable that we have a very strong tendency to believe what we are first taught to believe, and with that belief as our presumption, we have a very strong tendency to argue that it's correct. In doing this, smart people can find reasons to continue believing even if the evidence is against what they believe.

There is certainly some truth to this, particularly in the case of children. As people mature, many outgrow the suggestibility which Loftus cites. While all human beings, even those in their elderly years, are able to learn more than what they already know, children in particular are in learning mode. When children are given an explanation for something they have observed, for instance, even if it is not true, they often do not question it. Why would they, especially if the explanation is provided by someone they implicitly trust? Implicit trust can easily and sometimes even innocently lead a child beyond the truth, into the territory of falsehood, even if the person trusted means well.

I recall when I was quite young, for instance, and I saw a painting of Napoleon. I asked my sister why his hand was tucked in his shirt (see examples here and here). I was just a young boy at the time, and did not know this was common practice in portraiture during the 18th century. My sister, perhaps because she didn’t know any better herself or simply wanted to play with me, explained that Napoleon held his hand in his waistcoat because it was shriveled up to the size of a walnut. “Really?” was probably my only response to her, but I had no reason not to believe it was true, and I certainly knew of no certain grounds to challenge it even if I suspected it was untrue. After all, from the little context that I had at the time, it could have been true. So naturally I believed it, until later I discovered that it was not true.

My autobiographical anecdote simply serves to make Loftus’ point, at least to some degree: when we are largely ignorant on some issue (as I was about Napoleon and common practice in 18th century portraiture), we have no knowledge to the contrary on which to base any challenge to what we are told, and if we trust our source we are accordingly predisposed to accepting much of what we are told. This is what I understand Loftus to mean by the mind being impressionable. And what we accept when we are at a tender and impressionable age, is often difficult to unseat from the sum of what we have come to accept as true knowledge of the world, simply because it is by that point the familiar, and the familiar is associated with security.

Also when I was young, I was told repeatedly that there is a god, that this god created the universe and everything in it, including me. I remember asking my mother once how she knew this, because I knew of no way to come to this knowledge independently of someone telling me about it. She said simply, as though it were wholly adequate in her mind, that “you can’t have design without a designer.” So in spite of her prayers and claims to having a personal relationship with this deity, she still had to infer its existence through a chain of most tenuous premises. I found this strange because I never had to infer the existence of something with which I interacted directly; such a procedure is completely superfluous. And later as I began to examine the issues for myself, and rely on my own judgment instead of seeking a substitute for it, I learned how fallacious the argument from design really is. Such arguments are not meant to be examined critically; their faulty conclusions are intended for mass consumption and reiterated in place of critical thought as a show of piety.

Children’s minds are especially impressionable because the world is still very new to them, and there are basic truths that they are still discovering, and typically they do not learn to understand those truths in terms of explicit principles. They learn them implicitly. And along with the many truths that they implicitly grasp, they often accept outright fictions as if they were true as well. This is not isolated only to children. While on a break outside my office one day, a teenager on a skateboard stopped and asked me "What goes on inside that building?" He was referring to the large, ominous building in which I worked. I responded dryly,

We're a military operations installation. We plan sorties to hotspots around the world like Afghanistan. We dispatch halo drops, plot assassinations and manipulate foreign currencies...

None of this was true, of course, but the boy's jaw dropped and he stood there completely astonished. He believed every word of my blarney. I didn't present arguments to try to convince him, I didn't even plead with him to believe it for the sake of his eternal soul. He believed it readily, as if he were waiting for an explanation like this. And when I told him it was just an office and we sell medical equipment, he seemed really let down, as if he would prefer to believe the original story that I gave him.

While this may be scoffed at by some as sheer gullibility, it may simply be that the youngster has not yet developed the critical faculties needed to scrutinize what he is told in a more informed manner. Then again, what's the difference? Not surprising, the bible upholds the ready and uncritical acceptance of proffered explanations that is characteristic of childhood, as a model for adult believers to emulate. I have already written on this topic in my blog With Minds of Children.

The point is that, in the case of a child who not only has a lot to learn about the world, but who also trusts those who provide him with the explanations he’s given, he typically knows of no reason to question what he is told to believe. Perhaps it is a basic condition such as this which prompts Loftus to make the following point to believers:

Think about this for a moment, Christian. Think back to when you first became a Christian. Someone you liked, or cared for, or trusted, told you about Jesus and his resurrection. With me I never heard anything different from people. Everyone who ever talked to me about it believed. The people who told you about Jesus were believable.

I’m reminded of Rand’s insightful observation that

Faith in the supernatural begins as faith in the superiority of others. (Atlas Shrugged)

There is no rigorous adherence to refined epistemological standards involved in "faith in the superiority of others." Even so, many who are gullible resist admitting their gullibility, but gullibility by any other name is still gullibility. The claim was made – e.g., “Jesus is Lord” – and many believed simply because it was claimed by someone well trusted. Couple this impressionable readiness to accept claims uncritically with the lethal additive of peer pressure and shaming techniques (both of which are amply supplied by religious teaching itself), and belief is a highly probable outcome. But even though Christians prefer not to set themselves on the same level as other religious adherents, the root of belief in Christianity is essentially no different from the root of belief in other religious inventions. In the final analysis, the common denominator to all the religions is a failure at some point to distinguish between the real and the imaginary, which is a potential outcome of failing to grasp the nature of our consciousness and its relationship to the things we perceive in the world. Imagination is even involved in the mind of the impressionable child who is told that an invisible supernatural being created the world and incarnated itself as a man here on earth some 2,000 years ago. How else could the child grasp this, if he did not try to envision it in his imagination somehow?

Imagination is basically the ability to rearrange mentally what one has observed in reality. Its proper use is to aid in the achievement and preservation of human values. If held in check by the knowledge we gather from reality and validate according to an objective process, imagination can be very useful. For instance, I can imagine that if I put my hand on the hot skillet on the stove, it will burn me. I can imagine this because information indicating such outcomes is already available in knowledge that I have acquired of reality. But the information that I have gathered from reality in no way indicates that, if I should press my palm to the floor of the heated skillet, a marching band will come promenading through my backyard as a result. I can imagine this, but I have broken from reality, and at most the use of my imagination at this point is purely for entertainment, and potentially dangerous to my well-being if taken seriously.

There is a fundamental distinction between what is real and what is merely imaginary. When I imagined touching my palm to the hot skillet, for instance, my hand was not burned. That’s because I didn’t really touch my hand to the skillet – I simply imagined that I did. Similarly, I can imagine winning the state lottery and becoming a millionaire. But since in fact I did not win the lottery, I’m nowhere closer to being a millionaire than before I imagined winning the lottery. There’s a difference between the real and the imaginary, because there’s a difference between the objects of consciousness and the subject of consciousness. The objects of consciousness exist independent of the processes by which we are aware of them. It is this fundamental truth which theism seeks to hide from the believer as it distracts him with emotionally compelling falsehoods, such as: "God loves you and knows what’s best for you," "You’ll go to hell if you don’t believe," "You’ll go to heaven if you do believe," "Your judgment is only valid so long as it goes along with the theistic party line," etc. (For further reading on the topic of subject-object reversal in theism, see for instance Confessions of a Vantillian Subjectivist and Theism and Subjective Metaphysics.)

The classic ‘argument from design’ wants me to imagine that the universe was created by a conscious being residing beyond it, just as I can imagine that a watch I find in the wilderness was manufactured by human designers. But while my imagination of human designers manufacturing a watch does not require me to depart from knowledge that we have gathered from reality and validated according to an objective process (e.g., I have seen human beings, I have visited factories, I have seen human beings work on watches, I have seen die-casting and mechanical assembly in process, etc.), no information that I have gathered from reality at all indicates that there are any supernatural beings residing beyond the universe and capable of creating the universe by an act of consciousness. To accept the conclusion of the ‘argument from design’, I must grant primacy to my imagination by sacrificing knowledge that I have acquired and validated. Essentially, I have to deny reality its proper place in cognition in order to accept the argument’s intended conclusion. Now why would I do this?Imagination of this type – the type which abandons reality in preference for subjective concoctions – is vital to religious belief. It is a fundamental underpinning of religious belief, for by means of it the content of religious teaching – including the fear it seeks to generate – comes alive in the mind of the believer. Van Til gives us a splendid lesson on precisely this in his own personal testimony, which he presents in his pamphlet “Why I Believe in God.” In this pamphlet, Van Til writes:

I can recall playing as a child in a sandbox built into a corner of the hay-barn. From the hay-barn I would go through the cow-barn to the house. Built into the hay- barn too, but with doors opening into the cow-barn, was a bed for the working-man. How badly I wanted permission to sleep in that bed for a night! Permission was finally given. Freud was still utterly unknown to me, but I had heard about ghosts and "forerunners of death." That night I heard the cows jingle their chains. I knew there were cows and that they did a lot of jingling with their chains, but after a while I was not quite certain that it was only the cows that made all the noises I heard. Wasn't there someone walking down the aisle back of the cows, and wasn't he approaching my bed? Already I had been taught to say my evening prayers. Some of the words of that prayer were to this effect: "Lord, convert me, that I may be converted." Unmindful of the paradox, I prayed that prayer that night as I had never prayed before.

This admission is key to understanding Van Til’s god-belief. Notice in Van Til’s recount of a very moving experience in his own childhood, that he mentions that he knew that the chains he heard jingling throughout the night were the chains used to restrain the cows in the barn. He knew this, but this knowledge was soon dethroned and replaced with what he imagined to be the case. Feeding his own insecurities, he began imagining that something other than the cows in the barn were making the noises he heard, and as he nursed his mind on this imagination, it began to frighten him more and more. Because he abandoned knowledge, his imagination-based fears took over. And he felt that whatever he was imagining – “someone walking down the aisle back of the cows” – was a threat to his being, hence he was petrified with terror. What he imagined was another conscious being, a conscious being which could – like human beings – act with purpose, even a malevolent purpose.

No matter what other factors are involved in a believer’s conversion to religious belief, whether it is the formative influence of his immediate family, the society in which he lives, peer pressure, disillusionment, depression, desperation or some emotional despair resulting from a life-shaping experience such as hitting a major low in life, going through a divorce, losing a loved one, getting fired or relocating, one constant is always in place: a failure at some point to distinguish between reality and imagination.

Belief could be, as we saw in Van Til’s own case, prompted at an early age by indulging irrational fears which unseat knowledge that one has already validated and replace that knowledge with something one simply imagines to be the case, thus providing a fictitious context which validates irrational fears in the mind of the subject. Subsequent decisions made on the assumption that these fears have a legitimate basis, will lead to even deeper irrationality which, if unchecked, can result in a life held captive to a set of irrational positions. Hence, Van Til devoted himself to a life of defending the Christian worldview.

Or, it could be that one makes it all the way into his adulthood as essentially a non-believer who never really gave religion a second thought, but goes through a period of emotional trauma. Hitting an emotional low in life can have dramatic consequences on an individual’s judgment if he allows his emotions to take a primary role in his decision-making.

Take for example Joe, a 35-year-old bookkeeper for a small company in Nowheresville, USA. Joe’s 12-year marriage to his wife Emma has been on the rocks for the last few years, and Emma has just recently filed for divorce after having met a successful physician who has fallen in love with her and wants to take her away with him on his retirement to Costa Rica. Joe realizes that he will be financially ruined by the divorce and left with nothing but an exorbitant mortgage payment and debts up the wazoo that he can barely handle with his income at a profoundly unrewarding job. Joe never gave religion much thought but recently stumbled onto a televangelist show while channel-surfing. Alone with his bleak outlook, he began listening to the preacher give his sermon. It seemed to Joe as if the preacher were speaking directly to him, with all the knowledge Joe had of his life and misfortunes. He then began to imagine that everything up to that point had been deliberately choreographed to put him in the position he found himself. Joe began to imagine what the preacher’s words suggested: some person was making this all happen; some person saw to it that his marriage would fail; some person saw to it that he was in a dead end job; some person saw to it that he would surf onto that televangelist show at that very moment. All of this was happening for a specific reason, Joe began to believe, and he began to believe it because he began to find the imagination that this was the case preferable to the dismal reality that confronted him.

The preacher began to address his audience, including those like Joe in televisionland. “Some of you have been down and out,” said the preacher. He continued to preach:

Well the Lord knows all about it! And the Lord knows that you have a choice to make, and the choice is before you right now. In the words of Joshua, ‘choose you this day whom ye will serve; whether the gods which your fathers served that were on the other side of the flood, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land ye dwell: but as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD!’ The Lord knows you are hurting. The Lord knows that you have been wronged. The Lord knows that you want cleansing. The Lord knows that you want the burden lifted. The Lord knows that you want to come clean. The Lord knows you can’t do it alone. The Lord knows you can’t do it without him. The Lord knows your heart, because he put your heart there. The Lord is knocking at the door. The Lord is asking to come in. Are you going to let him in?

As Joe listens to the words and the feverish pitch of the preacher’s delivery, he is virtually hypnotized as he assembles images of a Jesus in his mind calling to him, asking to step through an imaginary door suggested by the preacher’s statements. No doubt his life needs a radical overhaul, but now he’s prone to settle for retreating into a fantasy that could be of no actual value to his life. The preacher called him a “sinner,” and in the pits of Joe’s depression this stings deeply, for now he feels like he’s responsible for every wrong that has ever occurred in all of history. Maybe Hitler rallied an entire nation behind “the solution” for the Jews, but Joe was now convinced that his offenses were even greater. In exchanging knowledge for imagination, he also exchanged reason for feelings. And now his feelings of guilt were opened wide up, consuming him like a voracious whirlpool. The preacher’s fishing efforts are thus successful: another minnow has wandered into his nets. As the new catch of the day, Joe is ready to be reeled in and gutted by the workers on the butcher line. If he doesn’t regain his wits and dart out of the fisher’s nets, he’ll be filleted and laid to rest on a church pew.

It is because one’s imagination is so central to his religious experience and the explicit philosophical doctrines he consequently adopts in order to explain it in terms of pre-cast illusions, that I ask apologists to explain how I can distinguish between what they call “God” and what they may merely be imagining. I grant that anyone can imagine a deity; many believers, as part of their apologetic, ask me to imagine theirs. But for me to take the apologist’s claims that the deity whose existence he wants to defend seriously, he will at minimum need to explain how I can distinguish between what he is calling “God” and what may simply be a figment of his imagination. But he can't, because there is no fundamental difference.

Imagination is a central ingredient to the religious experience. Religious stories are the prime vehicle for religious beliefs: they supply the props and motifs which inspire the initial content of the believer's imagination, and it is the believer's imagination which serves as the fundamental content of his belief experience. In the case of Christianity, it is because the stories of the gospel narratives and other "histories" are 'uploaded' into the believer's imagination and combined with content taken from everyday experiences, that they seem vital, real and alive to him.

Significantly, imagination provides for ownership of the vision imagined by the believer by making it a most personal investment. This is why faith is emphasized in religious beliefs. Faith is a signal to turn from the external world in preference for an internal source which is to be consulted for purposes of reinforcement and rationalization. In a significant admission, Christian apologist John Frame tells us that

a person with a wish to be fulfilled is often on the road to belief. (Apologetics to the Glory of God, p. 37)

The desire that what we imagine is true has a strong tendency to prompt us to defend that imagination when its claim to truth is questioned or challenged. It is also why apologetics is a natural component to theology. Apologetics is an attempt to calm the psychological panic that will arise when one’s theological investments are questioned or challenged. It is a systematic effort to sustain the pretense that the imaginary holds metaphysical primacy over the actual.

by Dawson Bethrick

The Problem of Saul

This is an excerpt from a larger work in progress. The statements by "Presuppositionalist" are actual quotes from an individual who corresponded with me some time ago.


Thesis: If the Christian god wants human beings (whether all or only some) to believe in it, then it should reveal itself to them in an obvious way, as the book of Acts says it did to Saul on the road to Damascus; otherwise non-belief in such a being is warranted given the lack of evidence, and it can even be pointed out that such a god is inconsistent since it claims to be no respecter of persons.

Presuppositionalist response:

God is sovereign and is under no obligation to reveal himself to any man in the way he revealed himself to Saul. Indeed, God is no respecter of persons, and Saul by no means merited or deserved the revelation he received. It served God’s purposes to meet Saul on the road to Damascus; so too, it serves God’s purposes not to reveal himself today in the same ways as he did to Paul, Moses, etc.

None of these points answers the objection that has been raised, and all appear to be little more than an effort to subdue doubts that the objection raises in the mind of someone who wants to believe Christianity is true. For instance, to claim that “God is sovereign and is under no obligation” to do one thing or another, is irrelevant, since the objection neither charges nor requires that the Christian god has any obligation to begin with. The question is not what this god is obliged to do, but what it wants to be the case in the world it allegedly created. If the Christian god wants human beings today to believe in it, why not do for them what it allegedly did for Saul of Tarsus on the road to Damascus according to the book of Acts?

Recall that Saul was not merely a doubter or non-believer, but an active persecutor who aggressively pursued the Christians of his day. He was what today’s believers would call in unison a hostile enemy of the body of Christ. The objection does not make pronouncements about why the Christian god might have chosen to reveal itself to Saul, other than that it simply chose to do so, nor does it suggest that it had any obligation to do so. The objection is wholly compatible with the view that the Christian god could have chosen not to reveal itself to Saul. All the objection does is point out the logical course of action given a desired end. In other words, it is a simple application of the principle of final causation: the end determines the means. It does not stipulate that the end in question is actually desired by any supernatural deity; indeed, if there is no god then it could hardly desire to reveal itself to anyone. But if such a being did exist and it wanted men to believe in it and accept its sacrificed son as their Lord and Savior, what better way to accomplish this end than to reveal itself in an obvious way before them, just as the book of Acts says it did for Saul of Tarsus?

The objection solidly rests on what Christians should be more than willing to take as biblical precedent, and, as mentioned above, upon the principle of final causation: a desired end determines the most fruitful and surefire means of achieving it. What we are expected to believe is that, instead of appearing before us as it allegedly did for Saul of Tarsus on the road to Damascus, the Christian god actually prefers to send fallible men armed with flimsy arguments and no objective evidence to go through the hit-or-miss motions dictated by Christ’s “great commission.” This, we are told to believe, is the preference of a loving god which does not play favorites. On top of this, believers themselves – the ones who come to us with these flimsy arguments and lack of evidence – claim that they were moved to belief by an invisible “Holy Spirit” which “worked” in them a faith and desire to know this god, quite different from Saul's experience. The biblical precedent of Saul’s conversion by means of a personal self-revelation of Jesus in empirical form remains confined to the pages of the storybook and is denied to those who exist today, regardless of whether or not they end up "believing." And while they claim, contrary to what we're supposed to believe about Saul of Tarsus, that their belief is the result of the moving of an invisible magic spirit which somehow influences their minds in some fundamental but poorly explained manner, it is a striking coincidence how many of these same individuals were raised up in the Christian tradition from their youth. The claim that the spirit of the Christian god somehow "moves" in minds of believers, simply does not ring true, and all it has going for it is personal testimony, i.e., an unsupportable claim. Unfortunately, it reduces the Christian claim to the same level as other religious claims: the believer is unable to show how one can reasonably distinguish between what he calls "God" and what he may merely be imagining.

In response to the objection, it is pointed out that “Saul by no means merited or deserved the revelation he received,” but according to the story of his conversion, he got a private visit from this god all the same. This, mind you, from an omnipotent being which is claimed to have “so loved the world” that it gave its only begotten son (cf. John 3:16), and is claimed not to be given to partiality toward any of its creatures (cf. Acts 10:34). Pointing out that Saul did not deserve a personal revelation, does not address the objection. On the contrary, it only makes the matter all the more complicated for the apologist. For now he has to reckon with the claim that the Christian god does not play favorites while at the same time choosing to reveal itself to one individual (one who was actively hostile toward the church in fact) but expecting the same devotion from everyone else.

Saying that “it served God’s purposes to meet Saul on the road to Damascus” also does not address the issue, for it is already granted that the Christian god had a purpose in revealing itself to Saul of Tarsus by granting that it has the ability and the choice to do so. It could likewise have a purpose in revealing itself to human beings of today as well. The objection does not require that the Christian god act without purpose. Indeed, if it exists and desires that men believe and worship it, the purpose in revealing itself to modern human beings would be, among other possibilities, to make its existence incontestably certain to those individuals to whom it reveals itself. That it does not do this is consistent with the premise that it does not in fact exist to begin with.

On this account, the Christian god strikes me as either non-existent or wholly indifferent to the plight of men. Moreover, the very idea that an immortal, indestructible and perfect being would have any purpose to begin with is conceptually specious. Such a being would certainly have no need to act for any purpose, for it wouldn’t have any deficiency to overcome. To say it has needs would only imply that it is somehow incomplete, and that it needs to take action in order to secure something that makes its existence possible, as in the case with biological organsims (such as human beings). In response to this, apologists seek to dumb the matter down to the level of a mere desire rather than a need: the Christian god’s purposes are based on its desires (wishes and wants), not needs that it must satisfy in order to sustain itself or any attribute it might possess. But if such a being were to have any wants, wishes or desires which could provide a basis for any purpose it might set before itself, they would be purely arbitrary. Here apologists prefer to call their god’s purposes “mysterious,” which is a euphemistic signal to shut down all inquiry in preference for “just believing.” At best they can only hope to appeal to passages like Psalm 115:3, which suggest that pleasure of the moment is the final arbiter of their god’s choices and actions, all the while ignoring the fact that the characteristics they attribute to their god would mean that it could refrain from all choices and actions for all eternity, and still be what it is.

All this suggests that it is men, having adopted a worldview philosophically based on the primacy of consciousness and allegorically based on the narratives of a storybook, who are in charge of a god that exists only in their imaginations as they scramble to work out the implications of the assertions they make in describing what they claim to worship.

Presuppositionalist:

This objection intimates that God has not already provided sufficient revelation of himself to all men.

That depends on what one considers “sufficient revelation.” Who determines what is "sufficient" when it comes to something labeled "revelation"? “Sufficient” for what exactly? This is not explained. Was “sufficient revelation” available at the time Saul of Tarsus was supposedly persecuting Christian believers? How would one determine this? Saul had the testimony of the believers he personally persecuted - some of whom could have been eyewitnesses to the resurrection if we go by the accounts - and that was presumably not sufficient. If the testimony of eyewitnesses or their immediate comrades is not sufficient, why suppose that a 2000-year-old storybook is sufficient?

Believers of course reserve the right to say what they choose to say in response to such questions, and posture themselves as speaking for their god. That’s fine - they can imagine and say whatever they want. But notice how the apologist has to keep back-pedaling on this question and dragging it off to irrelevant matters. Today’s non-believers did not invent the example of Saul of Tarsus being converted on his way to Damascus. If Christianity wants to keep Paul, they have to deal with the implications that the story of his conversion introduces. But this is something that believers tend to shove under the rug and ignore. If it were the case that “God’s revelation of himself” were sufficient at the time Saul was persecuting believers, then the personal appearance paid to Saul by Jesus would be superfluous and, worse, all the more an instance of “respecting persons.” And if it were not sufficient, then whose fault is that? Saul’s? If so, he sure got redeemed in a jiff!

And who is to determine whether something is sufficient for another human being? Does the believer reserve for himself a place of privilege here, claiming that in spite of his poor answers to objections raised against his god-belief, its “revelation” is nevertheless sufficient anyway?

by Dawson Bethrick

The Moral Uselessness of the 10 Commandments

Christians are always telling us how necessary their god is for morality, as if man needed an invisible magic being to tell him what's right and what's wrong. For this, they love the 10 commandments found in the 20th chapter of the book of Exodus. According to believers, the 10 commandments formulate the bedrock of the ultimate standard in morality. Like them, we are expected to assume that the content of the 10 commandments was not developed by human beings and subsequently attributed to their god. On the contrary, we are supposed to believe that they were delivered to us just as the storybook tells us: from the divine creator of the universe itself to the rest of humanity by way of a man named Moses who encountered this supernatural being in the form of a talking tumbleweed on the summit of Mt. Sinai some 3500 ago, give or take a few centuries.

The 10 commandments are predominantly prohibitive in nature. They dwell on telling us what not to do, not what we should do. Debates over the appropriateness or sufficiency of the 10 commandments are waged from internet chatrooms to the chambers of the US Supreme Court. It seems, however, that many of these debates often miss the point of morality to begin with. Many people, including Christians, seem to view morality as a punitive restraint, a penalty which man is obliged to bear for being man. So it is natural that they would endorse a standard informed by prohibitions backed by personal threats and psychological sanctions.

Contrary to this punitive conception of morality is the conception which I have adopted, a view of morality which never loses sight of the facts underlying man's objective need for morality. Man needs morality because he faces a fundamental alternative, and because of this he needs values in order to live. Since man does not automatically know what is of value to his life or which course of action will enable him to achieve and/or protect those values, he needs a code of values which guides his choices and actions. "The purpose of morality is to teach you, not to suffer and die, but to enjoy yourself and live." (Atlas Shrugged) Essentially, according to my worldview, morality is the application of reason to the task of living, a rational code which takes account of man's profound need for values. A morality suitable for man needs therefore to be useful to man, but this is precisely where the 10 commandments fail as a standard of morality fit for my life.

To understand this, let's take a look at them:

1. Thou shalt have no other gods before me.
2. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image.
3. Thou shalt not take the name of the LORD thy God in vain.
4. Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.
5. Honor thy father and thy mother.
6. Thou shalt not kill.
7. Thou shalt not commit adultery.
8. Thou shalt not steal.
9. Thou shalt not bear false witness.
10. Thou shalt not covet.

Regarding the first commandment, I have no gods before me whatsoever, since I have no god-belief. So the prohibition of other gods is morally useless for me.

Regarding the second commandment, I don’t worship graven images in the first place, such as little statues of Mary or Jesus on a cross. So this prohibition is morally useless for me.

What of the third commandment? Since I have no god-belief, I obviously cannot take the name of my god in vain, since I have no god. This commandment is thus morally useless to me.

The fourth commandment demands that I set “the Sabbath day” aside for rest. (Originally this was Saturday, but for Christians this is typically Sunday.) It is essentially a prohibition against working on that day. In other words, it is a prohibition against producing values on a specific day of the week, which is utterly arbitrary. In fact, this is completely contrary to morality, for morality is all about achieving and protecting values. This commandment is thus morally useless to me.

The fifth commandment is at best superfluous, and it misses the point to boot. I honor my parents because of the honor they have earned, not because I’m commanded to. Moreover, like love, genuine honor is not subject to commands; it has to be earned to be real. This commandment is thus morally useless to me.

The sixth commandment prohibits killing. Ostensibly this means killing other human beings (some Christians say it means premeditated murder or homicide outside of dire self-defense). But since I have no desire or intention to kill another human being, this commandment is morally useless to me.

The seventh commandment prohibits adultery. But since I have no intention of cheating on my wife, this commandment is morally useless to me.

The eighth commandment prohibits stealing. But again, I have no intention of stealing anything from anyone since I neither pursue nor accept the unearned, either in values or in spirit. This commandment is therefore morally useless to me.

The ninth commandment prohibits lying. But since I have no intention of faking reality, either to myself or to others, then this commandment is also morally useless to me.

The tenth commandment prohibits coveting, which I find to be the most curious of all the commandments. One online dictionary defines ‘covet’ as “to desire wrongfully, inordinately, or without due regard for the rights of others.” But since I recognize each individual’s fundamental rights, I do not take actions in social contexts “wrongly, inordinately, or without due regard for the rights of others.” And again, since I do not pursue the unearned, a command prohibiting wrongful and inordinate desires is of no moral use to me. Even more, I do not see how simply desiring something can pose a threat to the rights of others. So long as I am not taking action which violates another’s individual rights, what exactly is the problem here? It appears to be an arbitrary restriction, perhaps the foothold of a slippery slope argument. ("If you covet, then you're going to... and... and..." etc.) So this commandment is also morally useless to me; it does not guide the choices that I do need to make in order to live, but instead worries fallaciously about what appears to be a non-existent harm.

A rational individual clearly needs something better than all this. The commandments only tell us how not to live; they do not tell us how to live, which is what a moral code should do. They say nothing about values, neither man's need for them nor the proper way of achieving them, and apparently takes values completely for granted. Several of the prohibitions could be summarized by an injunction against the infringement of individual rights, a fundamental principle which would also prohibit involuntary servitude. But from what I can tell, the bible does not lay out a theory of individual rights to begin with. Then again, theists are often prone to confusing morality with social theory; morality focuses on the individual and the choices he makes for his life, while a suitable social theory applies moral principles in defining the limits of one's actions in the context of interpersonal relationships.

A list of prohibitions is not a substitute for one's need of a code of values which will guide the choices and actions he will make, and a list of prohibitions against choices he has no desire to make in the first place will not compensate for the omission of the former. Moreover, a rational individual by definition is one who guides his choices and actions according to rational principles, as opposed to threats from imaginary supernatural beings. He has no need for a list of injunctions telling him what an invisible magic being doesn't want him to do. The 10 commandments do not tell us what we should do or why, so in the final analysis they are morally useless.

by Dawson Bethrick

A Succinct Summary of My Worldview

A visitor named Robert recently stopped by my blog and asked me to provide a "succint statement of what [I] hold to be true and how [I] measure truth." Below I am posting the same response I gave to Robert in my combox.

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I don’t think a single statement would ever be sufficient to encapsulate what I hold to be true. But here are some basic pointers in terms of the four basic branches of philosophy:

1) Metaphysics: Objective reality. Three axioms establish this: existence exists, consciousness is consciousness of something, A is A. These are the axioms of existence, consciousness and identity. The initial guiding principle of philosophy is the primacy of existence principle. It is the recognition that reality exists independent of consciousness. Reality is not the product of conscious intentions, nor does it conform to consciousness. Hence I reject the religious view of the world, which essentially holds that a form of consciousness created the universe – i.e., all existence extraneous to itself - and/or directs the events which take place within it. This is a form of metaphysical subjectivism – the view that the subject holds metaphysical primacy over its objects.

2) Epistemology: Reason. Reason is the faculty which identifies and integrates the material provided by his senses. Rationality is the commitment to reason as one’s only means of knowledge of reality and his guide to action. The form in which he initially identifies and integrates the objects of his awareness is conceptual in nature, which is a volitional process, and the method by which he integrates what he perceives and identifies into affirmations is logic, which is the art of non-contradictory identification. Reason functions in accordance with the primacy of existence principle, enabling man to distinguish between fact and fiction, the real and the unreal, the actual and the imaginary. Reason is the faculty by which man discovers and validates truths about reality, and is thus the standard of measurement of truth.

3) Morality: Rational self-interest. This is the morality of values, the application of reason to the task of living and man’s need to act in order to live. Value is that which one acts to gain and/or keep in the interest of living and enjoying life. The morality of rational self-interest is developed on the recognition that man faces a fundamental alternative – to live or die, and on the basis of a fundamental choice: to live. It requires that one recognize that the needs man has for living are not automatically provided for, that he needs to identify those values which he needs to live and those actions which make acquiring and/or preserving those values possible. “The purpose of morality is to teach you, not to suffer and die, but to enjoy yourself and live.” (Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged)

4) Politics/social theory: Individual rights. An objective social theory is one which recognizes that each individual human being has the right to exist for his own sake. “A ‘right’ is a moral principle defining and sanctioning a man’s freedom of action in a social context.” (Ayn Rand, “Man’s Rights,” The Virtue of Selfishness) Accordingly, since life is an end in itself, no individual has an obligation to sacrifice his values, his mind or his life to another person, whether real or imagined. As a corollary, a religious believer has the right to worship whichever god he chooses, just as a non-believer has the right not to worship any gods.

I’m hoping these points inspire new questions as much as they are intended to address your initial question. If so, please feel free to probe some more. I always enjoy sharing my views.

by Dawson Bethrick