I'm More Scrooge Than Scrooge

So I just received an email from yet another reader who wanted to wish me a 'Merry Christmas'. Make no mistake, I sincerely appreciate the warm wishes, the fact that these people think of me and take time out of their day to write me such endearing sentiments. That really means a lot to me personally and I am grateful.

But it was another reminder of this wretched holiday. Bah, I deplore it. Christmas. A humbug, that's what Scrooge rightly called it (although he was ultimately weak because he gave in to the nauseous trappings of the 'holiday spirit', along with the equally weak Grinch). I have not held a favorable view of this holiday season since I was a very young boy and still naïve about most everything. So much of the Christmas season has become repugnant to me; through its bloated commercial excess it has lost most of its authentic value. I do appreciate the importance of families getting together and celebrating their love and solidarity. Absolutely and without reservation. But for me that is accomplished at Thanksgiving—which really makes Christmas superfluous on that score.

And, let's be honest, there is nothing Christian about the holiday season. From the decorated tree to the festively wrapped presents to the egg nog and Mandarin oranges to Santa Claus and his reindeer and the stockings hung by the chimney with care, at the end of the day Christ is not to be found anywhere in the truly predominant features of the holiday (ignoring the fact that he was almost certainly not born on the 25th of December). Aside from our nods to nativity scenes and the tradition of recounting the gospel narratives of his birth, what exactly does Christ have to do with Christmas? Nothing, if we can be honest about it. It is a facade impotently concealing the fact that this season and its traditions originate in pagan religions.

When is Thanksgiving? It’s around the middle of October for Canadians and around the end of November for Americans. And then there is New Year’s Eve at the close of December. Those are holidays I genuinely appreciate and can get into the spirit of. But what is this ‘Christmas’ inserted in between them? I could really do without that superfluous holiday.

Misfortunate Friends

Nothing proves who your real friends are quite like misfortune.

When misfortune hits—and what form it takes rarely matters—a real sense of loneliness can envelope me. The perception of that loneliness is not an illusion; I am genuinely alone because, when misfortune befalls me, a number of so-called friends are suddenly nowhere to be found. And that loneliness is palpable because it is precisely in those moments that I need friends the most. Why do so many friends vanish?

Because I was never their friend. That's the dirty little truth. I was nothing more than a notch on their social network belt, whose value was measured by the contribution my acquaintance made to their status quo, which diminishes by the degree to which I am perceived as a liability. When misfortune befalls me, I become 'high maintenance'. I am worthy of their time so long as I don't require anything of them, even more so if I can be of use to them.

But if I am not of use to them or if I have some kind of need, I'm treated like a pariah and soon find myself experiencing a poverty of social contact. So it is in those moments of misfortune that I have to retreat to that small, select group of people who are genuine friends. Misfortunes make demands on my attention and energies, which cannot be wasted on frivolities like self-absorbed ingrates. And that group is small indeed because precious few are those who I consider worthy of my true self. When misfortune hits and causes my social contacts to evaporate, creating that perception of real loneliness, it is then that my true friends stand out in stark contrast. And I look at those who disappeared and I say, 'This has been added against your account.'

Another Rational Atheist

Evidently there are some atheists who do not know how to read—which is quite an extraordinary paradox, given their apparent ability to write. You see, despite the fact that my former blog Apologia has been declared 'Closed' for more than a year, it continues to receive drive-by comments from these visitors. (Some might argue that perhaps these visitors are linked to the specific article in question by Google, but that is no excuse because I reiterate within the Comments field itself that the blog is closed.)

A gentleman by the name of Nigel Davies recently left a terrific scholarly response:

Your religion does not declare that there is one God atall. It declares faith in the Holy Trinity of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost betraying its origins in pre-Christian faiths of multiple gods. You have rationalised that down to one god but you have one more reduction to go before you reach the fact that there is actually no god atall.

Christianity does not declare that there is one God, Davies states. Were you aware of this? I wasn't. That was definitely news to me. When I examine every reasonable standard of historic Christian belief, from apostolic teaching and throughout the history of orthodox doctrine, I find again and again the declaration that there is one God—and at times rather explicitly, in direct repudiation of relevant heresies (e.g., The Nicene Creed, which begins with the affirmation, "I believe in one God").

Do you know what we call a proposition that's contradicted by evidence? A delusion, sir. This is especially the case when the amount of invalidating evidence is so extensive. Now, I think it's quite probable that Davies meant to say that the expression 'trinitarian monotheism' is an oxymoron but, if that is so, he really ought to have said that because that's quite a different statement—but it's also an extremely difficult one to support, given a responsible definition of both terms (viz. both terms presuppose a singular deity).

Of particular interest to me, of course, is his bold assertion that it's a "fact" that God does not exist. Oh how I would love to examine the evidence which establishes that as a fact. I shall not hold my breath, though.

Håvard Skjæveland and the Problem of Evil – Part 1

It seems that my discussion with Skjæveland on the Problem of Evil (i.e., how it supposedly demonstrates the probability that God doesn’t exist) has drawn to a tentative close. And I want to highlight the term “tentative” because he has not exactly given up yet. Let me explain where we’re at thus far and how we got here.

First, a little background information on Skjæveland. He is a 23-year old student from Stavanger, Norway, who is studying web programming. He is an avowed atheist who describes himself as “running pretty high on Richard Dawkins’ atheism scale” which means, I have reason to think, he affirms the ‘strong’ version of atheism. He also admitted to me that his thinking has been influenced by the New Atheist propaganda of Dawkins, Hitchens, Dennet, and Harris. (These gentlemen are reliable on philosophy in the same way that Duane Gish is reliable on science.)

On December 10th he introduced himself to me in an email which described his appreciation of the fact that someone else actually recognizes the fundamental difference between agnosticism and atheism, that the former addresses an issue different from the latter. “I was beginning to think I was alone!” he exclaimed. And in a subsequent email he shared with me a brief synopsis of his atheistic convictions and how he arrived at them. A particularly compelling issue for him, he said, was how convincingly the Problem of Evil undermines Christian theism. (I chose to ignore his thoughts on other religions, e.g., Hinduism, because I have no interest in defending those.) Since I have never encountered a Problem of Evil argument that accomplishes its intended aim—and I have examined many, both historical and contemporary—I thought this could be an issue worth exploring. He agreed to engage me on it.

He began with the logical Problem of Evil argument as presented by Epicurus, whom he cited directly, an argument taken up by others like David Hume and John L. Mackie. However, this alleged problem suffers from a fatal flaw, I pointed out—the definition of ‘evil’. Epicurus and others who submit this problem use the term 'evil' but never bother to define it. Until that term is defined, the problem is a lifeless corpse with no merit whatsoever because 'evil' lies at the very heart of the issue. “If you find the logical Problem of Evil argument compelling,” I said, “it's because you have assumed a definition of 'evil' on behalf of the argument.” I told him that he needed to disclose this definition he was assuming in order to continue examining the problem.

At this point he backed away from the Problem of Evil argument. “I don’t really know how to define evil,” he confessed, and asked if we could approach it as a Problem of Suffering argument instead. “Surely you agree,” he said, “that there is gratuitous suffering in the world,” that God could do something “so that people don’t suffer needlessly.” And I had to stop him right there. First, the Problem of Suffering argument shoulders an enormous burden of proof that has to be met. As the critical mind will detect, asking me to agree from the outset that gratuitous suffering exists is to beg the very question, which is fallacious. Since the supposed existence of gratuitous suffering lies at the heart of the argument—the very issue upon which it is hinged—he cannot simply assume it, nor can he ask me to.

Second, how I understand the term “suffering” differs explicitly from how he understands it (because our metaethics are antithetical, mine being God-based and him being an atheist), so my agreement would only encourage the fallacy of equivocation at any rate. Then I reset the conversation, underscoring the two things that must be established. “If you cannot prove the gratuity of human suffering, the argument fails. If you cannot prove that human suffering is inconsistent with the attributes of God, the argument fails” (viz. omnipotent, omniscient, omnibenevolent).

Skjæveland said he didn’t know how to go about proving the gratuity of suffering “except to come up with hypothetical scenarios” by which to illustrate it. So he called upon the example of rape: “Surely the woman being raped didn’t ask for it and certainly doesn’t deserve it.” Again I had to note the logical fallacy being committed, or possibly two different fallacies. On the one hand, he is possibly committing the fallacy of arguing from incredulity; i.e., “This suffering must be gratuitous because I can’t believe it’s not.”

On the other hand, he is definitely committing the fallacy of begging the question; i.e., “This is gratuitous suffering because it is gratuitous.” How did he commit this fallacy? By stating that the rape victim did not deserve it. Unfortunately, that assumes the truth of the very conclusion to be proved. “I am not trying to suggest she did deserve it,” I said. “It's just that I won't be bullied into a conclusion, if you know what I mean.” Nothing defeats an argument quite like fallacies, by which it defeats itself. They are to be avoided. Does there exist gratuitous suffering? That’s the burden shouldered by this argument, which must be met because if gratuitous suffering does not exist then the argument is a dog with no bite.

On the issue of whether or not human suffering is inconsistent with the attributes of God, Skjæveland had no directly relevant response. The only response he had was, “If God made us this way, doesn’t that suggest that God is at least imperfect?” First of all, God is not imperfect if the history of creation is unfolding precisely as he had planned it, meeting every purpose for which it was designed. Second, I was unable to determine how the angle his response took here adequately meets the burden of proof. The perfection of God was not the issue. The issue is the alleged conflict between human suffering and a God who is omnipotent, omniscient, and omnibenevolent. So I had asked him to clarify, if he could, how his response relevantly answers that issue.

And at this point he backed away from the Problem of Suffering argument too. “I’ll concede the two informal fallacies you bring up,” he said, and further conceded that suffering could be consistent with the attributes of God (although it makes him wonder if God is “toying with us,” which I subsequently answered). “Can we leave the Argument of Suffering behind for the moment, and maybe drive back to pick it up later on?” he asked. “I admit tentative defeat; I need to think about it more and familiarize myself with the issues better.”

The following was my reply, in part:

According to my understanding, you were trying to describe an argument against the existence of God that you thought was compelling. What I was trying to do—the only thing I was trying to do—was critically examine the argument with you to see if it had any rational force. I accept that you found the argument compelling, but I disagree it was for rational reasons. In order to make my case, I had to score the argument rationally (step-by-step with you, in a somewhat Socratic fashion). By proving its logical weakness, I thereby establish that its compelling force could not have been reason.

I don't want to appear as though I am disparaging your intellect. I am personally convinced that you are quite a highly intelligent man. Please understand that. But I do think people should be honest with themselves—in my own opinion, speaking from my commitment to critical thinking. If an argument is proven to be logically untenable, then a person should be honest with himself and admit that its compelling force must have been something other than reason, i.e., that he came to the argument already convinced to some degree.

So here is my suspicion. I think you already sensed on some intuitive level that there was a conflict between what you see as gratuitous suffering on the one hand and the supposed attributes of God on the other, and you gravitated toward arguments that seemed to provide rational ammunition for what you already believed. In other words, the arguments did not convince you, but they were needed as rational support for what you already believed. Maybe by recognizing and honestly admitting that these arguments are logically untenable, a way can be opened for discovering why you think there's a conflict between the world and God.

I know you're not prepared to concede that yet. Given our brief exchange thus far, you are perhaps beginning to see that it's possible these arguments are untenable, but I don't think we've had enough mileage on this yet to convince you. I know only because I've done the homework already; now I'm showing you that homework. We'll get there, but on your terms.

This is where the critical analysis of the Problem of Evil or Suffering rests at this point. I’m pretty sure that we will return to it later, but for now I suspect that Skjæveland wants to (a) intellectually digest the criticisms I had raised, (b) review the arguments put forth by atheist philosophers on this issue, to find out if his presentation was missing something, and if so, what, and (c) to see if any of them adequately address the criticisms I had raised. He never said any of this, mind you; it’s just my suspicion, based on nothing other than the fact that it’s something I would do, having been in a similar position myself at times.

- - -

NB: I just want to underscore one remarkable feature of my present debate with Skjæveland, because its significance simply must not go unnoticed. In all the years I have engaged countless atheists in debate, not a single one has ever conceded (a) the logical fallacies I have pointed out in their arguments or (b) any sort of defeat of their argument. Without any exceptions, every single one of those atheists have insisted that either no fallacies were committed or that I don’t understand what fallacies are—even when the fallacy they commit is almost verbatim identical to the examples given in Logic textbooks I cite from.

I want to formally recognize and acknowledge that Skjæveland is the very first atheist I’ve ever debated who had the personal and intellectual integrity to concede a logical fallacy when indicated and the defeat it incurred. My respect for him can scarcely be measured it is so high. Out of hundreds of atheists, he’s the first. This man has a place of high honor in my estimation.

Håvard Skjæveland and the Problem of Evil

I am currently engaged in an email discussion with a young Norwegian by the name of Håvard Skjæveland on the Problem of Evil argument against the existence of God. (His internet footprint is outdated, he tells me, so take whatever you find about him with a grain of salt.) Our discussion began about four days ago and is still ongoing. Once it is completed, I intend to publish the results here in my blog, having received his permission to do so. Keep an eye out for this. He is a very intelligent, articulate, and respectful young man and our discussion is proving to be quite fruitful, certainly on my end.

(NOTE: As it stands right now, the discussion is shifting away from the problem of ‘evil’ in favour of the problem of ‘suffering’, but I am leaving the title as it is because whether the issue is ‘evil’ or ‘suffering’ the fundamental context is synonymous.)