To begin with, I don’t know the answer to that question, so it is asked earnestly. I know that there is a kind of liberal Christianity — of the Sea of Faith variety — to which I was at one time greatly attracted — which has dispensed, or at least largely dispensed, with the supernatural apparatus which is central to most religions. I also acknowledge that there are some cultural traditions, commonly called religions, which do not, at least in some of their forms, depend upon belief in a god or gods, though supernatural figures are often attached to them in practice, such as Buddhism and Jainism. But my question is a much more exacting one. Can there be a religion, including all the practices normally associated with religions – such as ritualised symbolisms and communities, without superadding the supernatural?
This was a question to which the Anglican theologian Maurice Wiles addressed himself in a fairly well-known popular book, God’s Action in the World (which apparently I no longer possess). One of his concerns in the book was so to describe God’s action in the world that it would be both intellectually — that is, theologically — respectable, and religiously compelling. This is a very difficult balancing act to achieve, as anyone who has tried it over a number of years with a congregation of Christians would testify. I’m sure that many members of the Clergy Project would acknowledge, for, as disbelieving clergy were heading in the direction of unbelief, many of them went through a period of trying to accommodate their religious language with what they were increasingly learning from science, philosophy, biblical studies, and the sheer bewildering variety of positions on any topic you care to mention respecting religious belief.
My own process was gradual, and, towards the end, proceeded at an almost breakneck speed. When I read some of my homilies during this period I wonder that people were content to hear me any longer, since I had moved so far and so fast away from anything that might be considered traditional faith, that, when the time came to say a few words at my wife Elizabeth’s secular memorial service, having in the meantime become an unbeliever, people who expressed concern about members of the congregation hearing something so threatening to belief were answered with: “He hasn’t said anything here that he hasn’t already said in church!” This actually came as quite a shock to me, since, though I had promised from the start of my ministry in that place that I would not tell them anything that I did not myself at the time believe, I did not think that I had travelled quite that far, and that fast.
One of the things that precipitated my move towards disbelief was my reading of Darwin’s Origin of Species. I find it surprising now that I had been able to have been already in my 60s before I read a book which had played such a vital role in defining modernity. Nor, to tell the truth, did I think it would have been such an interesting and rewarding experience. I was prompted to read it because a local fundamentalist church had circulated pamphlets throughout the community, door to door, expressing the view that one could not be at once a Christian and a Darwinian; and although I had always believed, in the back of my mind, that there was no question about the standing of evolution as a scientific fact, I had no real understanding of it, and, in order to counter the fundamentalist propaganda, I found it necessary to read something about evolution. I started with Darwin, and then went on to Dennett’s Darwin’s Dangerous Idea. I also sent questions to a very kind professor at Dalhousie University, who answered promptly and perspicuously. I am afraid I cannot remember his name, so I am unable to thank him personally, but I found his response to my questions a great help in situating evolutionary biology in the framework of contemporary thought.
In any event, not to make heavy weather out of the biographical point, I found, upon reading Darwin, that I had to reassess my whole view of the world, and that included my own fairly loose and liberal conception of religious faith. To tell the truth, at the time I thought I had accommodated it fairly well to the fairly secular Christianity that over the years I had come to adopt, but I think now that Darwin had really reoriented my understanding of faith almost 180 degrees, for it seemed obvious to me then, as it does to me now, that one cannot believe in the common origin of animals and plants and hold, at the same time, the kind of centrality for Christian (or any other religious faith) which must end with privileging human beings over all other life forms with which we share, not only the planet, but a common biological history.
Imagine my pleasant surprise to find this expressed so clearly by William Dembski over at Biologos (h/t Jerry Coyne — for Jerry’s response to Dembski see here). (Note that the article is in two parts.) Dembski mentions Michael Ruse’s attempt to make evolution compatible with Christianity, and, as a result, Dembski says, “essentially has to redefine Christianity.” Of course, this seems inevitable. If I had accommodated Darwinism and Christianity it was because I had over the years already redefined Christianity. What Dembski does is to sort out claims for both Christianity and Darwinism that are non-negotiable. He lists them as follows.
Non-Negotiables of Christianity:
- (C1) Divine Creation: God by wisdom created the world out of nothing.
- (C2) Reflected Glory: The world reflects God’s glory, a fact that ought to be evident to humanity.
- (C3) Human Exceptionalism: Humans alone among the creatures on earth are made in the image of God.
- (C4) Christ’s Resurrection: God, in contravention of nature’s ordinary powers, raised Jesus bodily from the dead.
Non-Negotiables of Darwinism:
- (D1) Common Descent: All organisms are related by descent with modification from a common ancestor.
- (D2) Natural Selection: Natural selection operating on random variations is the principal mechanism responsible for biological adaptations.
- (D3) Human Continuity: Humans are continuous with other animals, exhibiting no fundamental difference in kind but only differences in degree.
- (D4) Methodological Naturalism: The physical world, for purposes of scientific inquiry, may be assumed to operate by unbroken natural law.
I agree that the resurrection of Jesus must be strictly non-negotiable for Christianity, although I used to think differently about this. I used to think that the resurrection could be understood in an eschatological sense (which I won’t get into at this point, though, for those who are interested Reginald Fuller’s The Formation of the Resurrection Narratives provides a benchmark analysis of how this kind of bait and switch can work), but now I think (as my parenthetical note suggests) that there is a clever bait and switch play being made in situations like this. The liberal believer speaks of the resurrection or the incarnation, of redemption and divine forgiveness, but clouds the issue with subtle analysis and suppressed premises. In the end there is no clarity about what has been achieved and what has been lost, and much Christianity depends upon this lack of clarity.
Of course, one of the problems with Dembski’s analysis is that he takes Darwin’s position as normative for evolutionary biology, as though, for example, The Descent of Man is somehow holy text. Thus, he points out that Francis Collins doesn’t accept D3 (where ‘D’ stands for Darwinian Non-Negotiable, just as ‘C’ stands for Christian Non-Negotiable), yet The Descent of Man presupposes it. (This is not a comment on Collins, since I have no idea what Collins thinks.) I think evolutionary theory generally does presuppose common descent and a denial of human exceptionalism, so far as I understand it, so this may not be a problem, but it displays the scriptural cast of mind that Dembski brings to his project that he should consider Darwin’s books to be in some sense sacred scripture.
This said, it seems to me that Dembski’s analysis is correct. The fact that Darwinian evolution is understood to be non-teleological does exist in tension with the idea that the life world, and human beings in particular, are creations of God and declare his glory. If, in fact, the acts of God in creation are not detectable, and the process of evolution can get by without the god hypothesis, then it is not clear how creation declares the glory of God. As Dembski clearly states (and the clarity of his presentation is especially helpful):
Given that science is widely regarded as our most reliable universal form of knowledge, the failure of science to provide evidence of God, and in particular Darwin’s exclusion of design from biological origins, undercuts (C2).
The revelation of God’s glory in creation should be evident, and of life evolves simply by means of natural selection, then, while we might be misled into thinking that nature is a remarkably complex and puzzling phenomenon (since most of us do not know the specifics of the evolutionary history of the living forms that we see) which simply cries out for explanation in terms of a supervising intelligence, science is in contention with this claim, even if it does not logically contradict it. In other words, it’s possible to go on believing that God is guiding the process, but there is simply no evidence in the things themselves that there is any such supernatural invigilation.
Dembski ends his two-pronged attack on accommodationism (from the Christian viewpoint), by opining that the evidence for Darwinism is not “incredibly well established” (in his words), claiming that
the evidence for common descent is mixed and the evidence for the creative power of natural selection to build complex biological forms is nil.
– an astonishing bold claim! However, can religious believers consistently say anything else? I am more and more of the opinion that they cannot, and that, in the end, they will not. This will put religion under increasing strain, and belief will become not only much harder to justify, it will make it less emotionally compelling. It is important to note that contemporary fundamentalism, though not entirely modern as is sometimes claimed, has been deeply motivated by the advancement of science, and as scientific conclusions become more secure, fundamentalism inevitably becomes more shrill in its response.
Sometimes people suggest that there will be a reformation in Islam, for example, which will make it more compatible with modernity. However, it has to be said that Salafism and Islamism simply are the reformation in Islam. In Renaissance Europe this kind of return to sources led the intellectual world back behind Christianity to ancient Greek and Roman classical literature, philosophy, and science, and this fed into the scientific revolution in the 17th century and the Enlightenment of the 18th century. It seems very unlikely that the Muslim reformation will have this result, for it is precisely the growing openness of European thought to which the Islamic reformation is a response. Islam can see what the generous openness of Europe has wrought, and, by and large, Islam has rejected it. Those few who think that there can be an Islamic reformation that includes freedom of thought and belief are almost all of them under armed guard, for fear of their lives, as Paul Berman points out in his useful The Flight of the Intellectuals.
The problem with liberal religion is that it no longer has the emotional power of traditional religion. It cannot provide comfort in times of trouble, nor conviction upon occasions of doubt. All the roads of rational thinking lead out of religion, Dembski notwithstanding. Religion needs the supernatural. This is what provides it with motive power. The task unbelievers have is to provide an alternative motive power that can not only drive science, but can drive a world civilisation. This, I fear, is not quite as easy as some people seem to think it. Keeping people religiously motivated to common tasks is itself an unending religious task. Without elaborate symbolism, ritual and subordinate community, it would be impossible. As religion undergoes transformation in the fires of science, however, it will be important both to limit the damage that disintegrating religion can do, as well as to provide alternatives for community and meaning. It is not evident to me that either of these important tasks are being attended to in a systematic way, and at the moment I have no suggestions as to how this can be done. Perhaps, after all, I need to read Alain de Botton’s Religion for Atheists, for at least he seems to be considering the problem head on.
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Apologies for my spotty presence over the last few days. I was helping a member of the family move, which involved a lot of travelling and heavy lifting. And although this post is a bit rushed, I should be a little bit more on track now for a while.
Collins believes in human exceptionalism with respect to the soul, not with respect to biology.
So, humans are part-and-parcel of the biosphere and evolutionary history, but at some point in the process, a god imbued humans with something called a “soul”.
Collins doesn’t believe in a literal Adam and Eve, nor a literal “fall”, but thinks the resurrection was some sort of atonement for the human species’ continued distancing from the god that gave them the “soul”. Ergo, a literal Jesus had to be born, die and be resurrected so that the god could forgive humans for falling away from god’s grace…or something like that.
It’s all very nutty, as most pop theology tends to be.
As far as the main thrust of the issue, I’m not sure that there is a need to have a nonreligious “motive power” as you suggest.
Seems to me that every time this has been attempted, it’s resulted in some appallingly bad behavior. Lenin, Stalin, Mao, Pol Pot, and on and on. Even the fascist movements (though they were at minimum covertly religious) tried to provide a “motive power”.
Consensus and compromise seems to be the only “motive power” appropriate to civilized discourse. With a healthy dose of skepticism and an unwavering commitment to protecting the rights of the minorities against the tyranny of the majority.
Kevin, while I’m inclined to agree that there is no need for motive power in the sense of a common narrative myth, I think that societies may not function as enriching human environments without something that helps draw us together, and plays on our common concerns, interests and needs. This is shown, I think, in the way that totalitarian systems work, and in the way that cohesiveness — and attendant features such as caring and concern for justice — tend to be under threat in places without a coherent social philosophy — such as is present in smaller societies like the Scandinavian nations.
Societies probably need shared aesthetic experiences to unite. We have the Olympics here in Britain soon, and a few days ago there was a most remarkable and absurd semi-religious ceremony in Greece, where the Olympic flame came from Zeus (the sun) before being passed on to Britain.
See it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zoby5n8WB5U
Was there any need for such an absurd ceremony? Not intellectually, but clearly there is an emotional attachment to an origin narrative. Most global sporting events have an opening ceremony and a closing ceremony, which are superficial on an entertainment level, but when it comes to nation, then things get very serious on a religious level with flags, hymns, anthems and so on.
A sporting event last week, the FA Cup football final, again here in Britain, had a hymn sung called “Abide With Me” before the national anthem, which was completely unnecessary, but no one bothered to question it.
I was amused that both Dembski and Falk felt compelled to dismiss Michael Ruse as having nothing to offer Christians. After all he’s done for them.
I share your concern, Eric. I fear that, without shared religion or ethnicity, we’ll be left with nationalism. When I identified as a Christian nonbeliever, it was partly because I regarded liberal religion as a less violent alternative to other ways that people form communities. But the mendacity just got to me, and I felt guilty honoring something – unjustified belief – that I felt to be wrong.
But you’re right, religion needs the supernatural. Even traditions that don’t invoke supernatural agents, such as Buddhism, trade on extraordinary knowledge.
I’ve always wondered about this thing people call a soul. What is it? What functions does it perform? How does it interact with mind? Does it carry our memories into an afterlife, or control our actions? Does it do anything that a scientifically-minded person would ascribe to brain processes? And how would we know the answer to any of these questions? I suspect that if we were to really press someone who believed in a soul, we would end up with a whole lot of handwaving.
Matt: Should not your skeptical stance towards the soul also apply to the “mind”?
I am reading, The Atheist’s Guide to Reality, by Alex Rosenberg, Philosophy chair at Duke and co-director of its Center for Philosophy of Biology. He argues that not only are there no supernatural entities like souls or minds, our brains cannot actually think “thoughts” about “stuff”. Very thought-provoking (oops).
Eric: Have you considered joining the clergy project? If you are there, I missed you. The non-believing active clergy (surprisingly many) and non-believing ex-clergy could gain much from your insights and support. I was a member of a RC “religious order” of teaching brothers and priests, in my misspent youth.
Though the definition of religion itself is problematic at best (does ‘all’ religion include certain essential characteristics), it seems to me unlikely that it can survive without the supernatural. All religions make claims about reality that either a)are impossible to substantiate or b)become clearly fallacious when examined critically. When confronted by rational inquiry, which ought to refuse to privilege any beliefs when honestly done, religious belief has but two ways to proceed a)retreat to a more liberal interpretation or b)entrench and ignore the evidence. Liberalization inevitably leads to a sublimation, and the eventual loss of faith, except perhaps as vague “I believe that there is something out there” spiritualism, and expressions of ritual for the sake of ritual. Otherwise, through entrenchment, it becomes an increasingly shrill and defensive thing. A.C. Grayling speaks to the second aspect of my above statement in the following post: http://www.prospectmagazine.co.uk/2006/11/faithslastgasp/ . Worth a read.
There’s always Unitarian Universalism, which claims to be a religion without having any distinctive content beyond generic humanism. It offers services similar to those of many Protestant churches, but the hymns and sermons are typically tailored to be acceptable to a wide range of religious and irreligious temperaments. It’s accommodationist by design, which many atheists find unacceptable, but the most it requires of its participants is tolerance. It’s stridently liberal on nearly any political issue. Congregations vary, and some atheists have found them uncongenial, but I’d recommend UU to any atheists who feel isolated or lonely; you’d likely find kindred souls there.
[Obligatory disclosure: I only attended for a few years when my mother could no longer go by herself. My godless parents had been members since 1970 or so, and half the people in the fellowship were family friends. Now that I don't have to go, I don't, but there are things about it I remember fondly.]
Eric continues to worry that the loss of religious affiliation without an adequate secular substitute waiting in the wings is a problem in need of redress, that we continue to need something to provide alternatives for community and meaning. It is not evident to me that either of these important tasks are being attended to in a systematic way.
Finding and implementing a systemic replacement for religion may very well fulfill the adage of a ‘cure’ worse than the ‘disease’ in today’s connected world; instead, I think there is an ongoing evolution (especially among the young) away from some imagined need to belong to a community through shared religious belief to participating in a community of non belief activated through the connectivity of social media. Greta Christina points out this growth of membership to various non belief organizations and the rise of targeted activism that accompanies it as a very valuable commodity – a commodity largely ignored (to the woe of many who fail to appreciate what exposure through social connectivity can wrought) but starting to gain public awareness for its demonstrable power. My point is that the older ways of thinking that an organization needs fixed assets and a systemic structure to demonstrate power of its membership is undergoing a fundamental change before our eyes, reminding me of the old movie truth in dialogue, “Badges? We don’t need no stinking badges!”
There are people who “believe in” UFOs/aliens as beings with vastly superior technology and understanding of the natural universe such that they can observe and interfere indiscriminantly in human affairs without risk of getting caught to about the same degree that the Christian God is presumed to do so.
If we swap the word “supernatural” with the word “power” we might take a step further into the mindset of the religious. Humans fear death and that attracts them to the powerful, and will happily submit themselves to it. The need for the supernatural is the need for power, a very human need. What else is power but having the ability to choose who lives and who dies?
Let us digest this. It’s not the supernatural that people crave, but power, and that includes, ironically, submitting to power so as to feed from it. The medieval age was largely about submitting to the supernatural out of ignorance and fear, but now look what is happening in our modern age, of global wars, corruption, inequality and tyrannies. Power is very real today.
Now, if we look at Dembski’s article with new eyes, we’ll see that everything that attracts Dembski to religion is power, while he seeks to diminish all power in science.
While science and reason are tools for knowledge rather than tools for power, it is no surprise that some crave power and authority in science, and that is, in my opinion, why the religious seek to combine science and religion, not because it is a tool for knowledge or truth but a tool for power.
My conclusion is that the religious mind is seduced by power, and can’t overcome their innate need to submit to it, or to abuse it when they rule over others.
Tildeb.
You might say that, if you please. But my concern is actually a concern that sophisticated types of argumentation for the non-existence of god, while they seem see to be by and large true — some of it is pretty piffle, like all arguments in all disciplines — meets up with the fact that for a large number of people, ideas and seriousness happen in community. Indeed, it may take community to help hoi polloi to live life “seriously” — a bit like Larkin’s “A serious house on serious earth this is.” And the disbelieving community should not simply cut people for whom this is important loose, as if they didn’t count. That’s where accommodation gets its purchase, because it relates two dimensions of human response to the world, and lulls to sleep those who think that the only possibility for seriousness is religious. I read this in people like Cupitt and Holloway, and I think the disbelieving community should take it seriously. For myself. I can live life as a loner. That’s not the problem. My problem is extending this way of thinking to others for whom religious is still some kind of an emotional life line.
Sure, the new atheism is beginning to be a kick-ass movement with clout, but I think, for many people, the need for a community that provides some sort of support network, and source of personal affirmation, is not just the fact that I “continue to worry that the loss of religious affiliation without an adequate secular substitute waiting in the wings is a problem in need of redress.” Nor do I think that quasi religious movements such as UU is really where it’s at. But I do think that there are probably organisational principles and structures that could help the atheist cause now that it has advanced in a kick ass fashion now that it has achieved a higher profile, and I do not think it will be as powerful as it would be otherwise.
What I do know is that the religions need to constantly harangue the troops in order to keep them motivated. I doubt very much that atheists are largely different in this respect. There are, of course, humanist movements, but so far these are pretty lack-lustre affairs, although they seem to be doing better in the last decade or two, with secular officiants at weddings, funerals, etc. I see no reason why the gnu atheism should not get involved in this kind of organisational support for nonbelievers who live in a sea of religious belief and practice, and competes with them.
Does the physical universe declare the glory of God? I think what it boils down to is that either you see it or you don’t. I can look at a flower, its beauty and its marvelous complexity, and have no trouble at all seeing the power and wisdom of the Creator. And when I see order and structure in nature, I naturally assume that it is the work of an intelligent being. The alternative explanation, that it all somehow rose spontaneously out of chaos, that the universe somehow created itself out of nothing, seems incredible to me, which is why I am with Dembski on this issue, the Origin of Species notwithstanding. (I did, by the way, read Jerry Coyne’s book Why Evolution Is True, and found it very interesting and informative. But it convinced me more than ever that macroevolution cannot possibly be true. — His discussion of genetics was most enlightening.)