Alvin Plantinga, the Christian Philosopher You NEED to Read

C. S. Lewis is probably the most famous Christian “armchair” philosophers. It is (past) time for both the Christian and non-Christian worlds to learn of and from one of the most eminent professional Christian philosophers, Dr. Alvin Plantinga.

Plantinga over the decades has developed some of the most philosophically rigorous defenses of theism and devastating critiques of naturalism. Chances are you have heard or even used some of his arguments in your apologetics discussions without even knowing it.

David J. Theroux of The Independent Institute (where Plantinga is on one of the Boards of Advisors) has written a wonderful introductory piece honoring Plantinga’s reception of the University of Pittsbrgh’s Nicholas Rescher Prize for Contributions to Systematic Philosophy.

I strongly urge you to read it. In addition to honoring Plantinga, it outlines his major contributions, and offers many good links to books, articles and videos of Plantinga’s work. If you have any interest or concern about the worldview struggles in our culture and want to better understand how to respond to naturalistic attacks on your faith, personally and in the culture, this is required reading.

SDG

Religion in Politics

I suppose it is a strange idea, but tonight’s post is a review of a review. A colleague, Dr. Robert Jensen, recently wrote a review, “Prophetic politics: Charting a healthy role for religion in public life,” which is a review of Walter Brueggemann, The Practice of Prophetic Imagination: Preaching an Emancipatory Word (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2012). My comments will make a lot more sense if you can take the time to read Bob’s article.

The first thing that surprised me was the extent to which Bob and I actually agreed. He and I come from very different political perspectives, and somewhat different views of Christianity, and have had a rough patch or two, largely due to my mouth more than his, I’m ashamed to say. His graciousness went a long way towards smoothing things out. So this convergence was a very pleasant surprise.

I thought one critical point that was missed, possibly also by Brueggemann, is that polemics often trumps the "first principles" that one's faith might otherwise inform a voter. I'll offer two examples, one each from traditional liberal and conservative platforms.

Response to “Secular Theocracy”

David J. Theroux, of The Independent Institute asked me to read and offer comment on his essay, “Secular Theocracy, Part 1.” In it, he raises some excellent points from a historical perspective and based on thoughts by C. S. Lewis and William Cavanaugh, and I encourage you to read it. My thoughts here expand on those of Theroux’s.

Theroux begins by explaining how religion is being marginalized and expunged from every area of public discourse because it is accused of being factious and leads to violence. He writes, “A secularized public square policed by government is viewed as providing a neutral, rational, free, and safe domain that keeps the “irrational” forces of religion from creating conflict and darkness. And we are told that real progress requires expanding this domain by pushing religion ever backward into remote corners of society where it has little or no influence. In short, modern America has become a secular theocracy with a civic religion of national politics (nationalism) occupying the public realm in which government has replaced God.”

This idea that secularism is ‘worldview neutral’ is so deeply ingrained into most secularists that they are fish that don’t know they are wet. In the very expressing of such a view, they promote secularism as being inherently better than any spiritually based worldview. In fact, they explicitly see themselves as more sophisticated, having matured past the need for such ‘primitive’ beliefs. Thus, they demonstrate the lack of neutrality, and are no better than the ‘narrow-minded exclusivism’ of theistic worldviews which they deride.

Vibrant Dance 2: Reynolds: Reconciling the Cosmos: Orthodoxy and Beauty

{RJW Note:  The second position paper given was by Dr. John Mark Reynolds, Professor of Philosophy, Biola University, Los Angeles, California, and founder and director of the Torrey Honors Institute, a great books program, and fellow Celtophile. As a philosopher, he is a departure from the theologian-heavy lineup and his perspective helps also to define the discussions. Dr. Reynolds also comes from a young-earth perspective.

When I asked him for a copy of his notes as we walked down the hall, he stopped, pulled out a notepad and ripped out a single sheet of paper with a loose handwritten outline and handed it to me. Again, the generosity of these scholars in sharing their work for me to share here is humbling and I am very grateful. It is remarkable to see the different styles of preparation and presentation each uses. Today’s post will constitute a merging of his rough outline with my notes. Any inaccuracies in the substance and intent of his message are mine.}

Dr. Reynolds began by making it clear that even at this conference on faith and science, he was neither theologian nor scientist, and plays neither on TV or movies, as some might wonder given he’s in LA. To begin with offering his epistemological perspective, he defined and discussed the nature of science and then theology. He seemed largely unconcerned with the tensions between the two fields, and appears to be a NOMAist, one who adheres to the idea that they are non-overlapping magisteria (that science and faith answer fundamentally different questions and so do not overlap areas of expertise, so the tensions should be in mostly in appearance than reality). This is my assessment of his views, not an explicit statement by Reynolds.

What is science? It is a likely story of sensory experience that becomes rapidly complicated by philosophical assumptions. {See my 8-part series on “What is Science?”} To ask the question, ‘how to do science?’ is not a science question, but a philosophy question. To cloud it further, if you ask {most} scientists how they do science, their answer is {most likely} different than how they actually do it. Furthermore, scientists do not reject the ‘wrong’ model for the ‘right’ model, but make forward progress by getting rid of one wrong answer in favor of another wrong answer. {but maybe, hopefully, less wrong?} To muddy the waters further, it is possible to adopt the right idea at the wrong time and it could retard the advancement of science.

Like a Man Among Grasshoppers

Tonight, Professor of Philosophy Dan Bonevac spoke on the topic of John Calvin’s philosophy to a group of grad students with whom I am involved. He showed how Calvin developed a dual philosophy on the nature of humanity, one based on how we were created pre-Fall, and one to describe how we are different post-Fall.

One of the characteristics of his post-Fall philosophy is that humanity’s ability to discern accurately vertical attributes (those about God) were all but destroyed, and those that are horizontal (interactions between humans and between us and Creation) were twisted, weakened, and diminished. To the extent we can make any good choices, it is solely due to the grace from God, perhaps through the concept of common grace, like the rain or other blessings that all can enjoy whether they know God or not (although the common grace aspect was not discussed explicitly).

As I sat listening to the talk on this topic, the picture came to my mind of fallen humanity as the stubble of a mown hayfield with God having the stature of a Himalayan mountain. I started thinking then of how our understanding of morality is so limited and how easily we can find ourselves in moral conundrums where godly people can logically and scripturally come to very different, and even opposite conclusions (i.e.—pacifist versus just war theorist versus some other variation).

2. What is Science?: 6 Questions

Think back to your English classes. Yes, way back when. Remember the 6 Question Words? They were drilled into us as the foundational questions we humans ask. Who? What? Where? When? How? Why? Let’s revisit them here.

Which are questions asked by science?

Who?    No, that is a History question.

(“Who is buried in Grant’s Tomb?”)

What?   Sure, that is a great Science question.

(“What is the average airspeed of an unladen swallow?”)

Where? No, that is the realm of Geography.

(“Where is the North Pole?”)

When?  Again, that’s History.

(“When was the War of 1812?”)

How?    Yes, another key Science question.

(“How does warp drive work?”)

Why?    Here is where this topic gets interesting.

Let’s ask a common why science question: “Why is the sky blue?” Sounds like a science question. If we try to rephrase it, we find that this could be one of two questions: “What is the mechanism causing the sky to appear blue?” or “What is the purpose for the sky being blue?” If we are asking the first, then it is actually a science question. It is really a cleverly disguised ‘what’ or ‘how’ question. If we are asking the second, it is truly a why question. A pure why question is about purpose, reasons, etc. It is a philosophical/ theological question, not a science question.

So we humans ask six basic questions: Who are we? Where do we come from? What is our universe made of? How does it all work? When did it all begin? Why are we here in the first place? Science answers two of them—one third. Granted, it is a very powerful third, but still only a third. Furthermore, this implies that science and religion are not fundamentally in conflict but should complement each other as they answer different questions. This concept is known philosophically as NOMA, or Non-Overlapping MAgisteria. It basically means that the areas of authority of science and religion (and the other fields) don’t overlap. (For a bit more on this topic, see the post, Vibrant Dance:  War Report!)

With this in mind, let’s look at a noncontroversial scientific subject like human cloning. A researcher, looking at the world from a purely scientific perspective, asking the ‘what’ and ‘how,’ looks at cell division (mitosis) and asks, “How did that happen?” As part of checking it out, other questions arise: “What factors affect it?” “Can I do the same thing?” “If cells can clone themselves, what about bigger organisms?” “Higher” organisms reproduce either sexually or asexually, and there is usually genetic variation in the offspring, whereas with a cell it is usually impossible to tell the parent from the child. In sexual reproduction, where there are gender differences within a species, the parent from each gender contributes half of the genetic information. This is done through the process of producing special reproductive cells (gametes) with only half of that parent’s genes (meiosis). These gametes are known as eggs (female) and sperm (male).

The scientist understands all of this and knows that eggs have the special property that when they have a full set of chromosomes, they start cloning themselves as the first step to forming the full organism. So, if a higher organism is to be cloned, then it must be done by removing the half load of genes from an egg and reloading it with the mother’s full genetic set, and then letting the egg do its thing. So we get cloned fruit flies, mice, and so on, and finally a sheep. (Good Baaa, Dolly!) As we progress up the organism complexity chart, we look to the top and see good ol’ Homo sapiens, and we wonder if the process works on organisms in that rarified stratum. So far, the scientist is merely investigating the ‘what’ and ‘how’ of various kinds of biological reproduction. As it is truly impressive work, it gets noticed by the larger community. The ‘why’ folks, the theologians and philosophers, start looking at the research from their perspective, see where the scientist is headed, and comment, “We obviously are doing this cloning thing, but should we?”

The scientist is asked to comment on the concerns of the why group, and responds, “Those are good questions. I haven’t really thought about it, as I’ve been concerned with looking at the mechanisms and trying to understand and manipulate them.” The rest come back with, “You haven’t thought about it? You have a moral obligation to examine the ethics of what you do!” The scientist responds, “I suppose you have a point. However, my training is in the ‘what’ and ‘how,’ not the ‘why.’ If you want me to comment on the why issues, we all have to recognize that I am stepping out of the science and into philosophy. If you want me to stick to science, I can tell you all about how organisms reproduce, what obstacles there are to multicellular cloning, what its current limits are, what the biological risks are, as well as the possibilities. My business is understanding nature and how we can manipulate it. Your job is to set the rules on who can use which of these tools, when and how.”

It would be nice if things were that cut-and-dried—if our roles were that independent of each other. Fortunately or unfortunately, they aren’t. A human being by nature is an interdisciplinary organism, not a single-function robot. Every human being asks all six questions. Each one of us is a historian, a scientist, a geographer, and a philosopher. So it is reasonable to ask scientists about the ethics of their research. But we have to remember that we are not asking scientific questions.

Since professional scientists have focused their talents and energies on asking the ‘what’ and ‘how,’ we need to realize that when we ask them the ‘why’ questions, their answers tend to be colored by their desire to fulfill their training and explorations.

We as scientists need to realize that our research has implications in the ‘real world’ and that the results will be available to fallible and even malicious human beings, and so we must adjust our perspectives as scientists accordingly. We also must be mindful that even if we understand all of the mechanistic mysteries of the universe, it will neither answer all of our questions nor solve all of our problems.

Thus, NOMA is not a truly workable philosophical model today as much of our research runs into walls between the six questions, and not just in biology. Cosmology and physics also run into areas of overlap repeatedly. As this series progresses, we will examine a framework for how a relatively peaceable interplay between the magisteria can be achieved.

SDG

What is Freedom?

I promised from the beginning of this blog that it was apolitical, and I have come to realize I did not say what I meant. A better word would be apartisan. Anytime a statement is made about human systems, it is a political statement—it deals with the policy of a polis, a group of human beings. Thus, when I discuss academic freedom or even different views on Creation, those are political statements, even if they are not partisan. Of course, I do need to clarify what I mean by partisan, which is I will not advocate for any of the organized political parties in the US. I will share views on issues, some (many) of which may be identified with a plank in a given party’s platform, but those are happenstances of agreement rather than advocacy, as I will also usually challenge weaknesses of a given view or its application to policy.

Enough disclaimer.

Obviously, I feel the need for the disclaimer today because “freedom” is a very political concept. There is inherently a prepositional implication: “freedom from” or “freedom to.” It is certainly THE most cherished value in our society, yet strangely, one of the least defined or discussed. It is so foundational an axiom in Western life that few meditate on it or study it. It is the water in which our culture swims, and we rarely realize that indeed, we are wet. That is, until we perceive dry spots on our scales.

Literally, herein lies the rub. In its most basic sense, freedom is the ability to shape the environment around us, to a greater or lesser extent. To have freedom is to possess the ability to influence. Therefore, if there is more than one entity with the ability to influence, then the risk arises that these influences will interact. When they do, the interaction can be constructive, neutral or destructive, in the sense of achieving the goals of both entities. Dry spots occur when the influence of one entity reduces the influence of another entity. Given that the entities are separate, it stands to reason that the motivations and goals of each will have differences, and can run counter to each other, or, that the preferred methods for achieving even common goals can be different.

Therefore, as the number and complexities of entities increase, the risk for conflict increases until at a certain point, that risk becomes a certainty. Conflicts are avoided or resolved by one of two means, restricting an entity’s own freedom, or restricting the freedom of others. These are the only two options, yet they play out in a variety of ways: self-restraint, overpowering, or compromise (which is mutual self-restraint).

When an entity refuses to exercise self-restraint, conflicts become more intense. If its influence is small, its impact on others is small to non-existent. The greater its power (the freedom to influence a larger area of its environment), the greater the conflict in intensity, number of involved entities, or both.

The ability to influence is not the only issue however. There is also the quality of self-awareness. A hurricane has a substantial ability to influence, but is not self-aware, and therefore cannot be said to have freedom. An animal has the ability to influence (building a nest), and perhaps some minor level of self-awareness (a dog being obedient or not), but it is an open discussion as to how ‘free’ they are in the context of this post. No, for purposes of this discussion, we are talking about human beings and the systems that groups of humans create in order to have working societies.

So, given that conflicts arise due to the exercising of freedoms, what are our options? We basically have two—live with it or take away freedom. If we live with it, it means we are accepting the other’s ability to hinder our freedom (i.e.- to be inconvenienced). However, in order to take away freedom, there must be an entity with enough freedom to do so. Thus, when a restriction in one entity’s freedom is imposed, it of necessity must be done by another entity with more freedom…AND/OR the permission of the restricted entity. So really, there really is only one option—when conflict arises (apart from issues of pure misunderstanding), someone’s freedom is restricted. The questions then become who’s freedom, by how much, and who imposes the restriction?

With this foundation, in the next post or two, I will look at contemporary examples of freedom to see if we can find resolutions for points of conflict. {Of course, if this extends past two posts, I am merely exercising my freedom as the owner of this blog. You are welcome to exercise your freedom to read or not!}

SDG

Define Your Terms!

I got into an argument with a friend the other day over evolution. He argued that basically evolution had done nothing good for the world, and I maintained that, in spite of some questions about the ultimate accuracy of the model, it had successfully guided research into some useful discoveries. He responded that they were made using what Bacon, Newton and others had developed long before Darwin came along.

We went round and round until I realized that we were talking past each other. He was arguing against evolutionary philosophy, and I was talking strictly about the scientific theory of evolution as a mechanism. I realized that this was the agent-mechanism debacle that I keep railing about, all over again. In his mind, ‘evolution’ refers to the entire kit and kaboodle of atheistic evolutionary theory and philosophy of origins. In my mind, I see distinct separations between Darwin’s scientific theory (and subsequent derivations) and the naturalistic philosophy with which it is often paired and which tend to feed off of each other.

Therein is the confusion—to many people, Christian or otherwise, there is no separation between the scientific mechanistic theory of evolution and the naturalism prevalent among atheistic/agnostic folks. Thus, to talk about one, you are talking about the other.

Unless one recognizes that they are separate (though closely related), it can be difficult to evaluate the theory on its scientific merits or lack thereof (depending on your viewpoint). The theory says the diversity of life arose through genetic changes over time. The philosophy says therefore that God did not have any hand in getting us here and, in fact, doesn’t exist.

Thus, it is imperative to carefully define your terms in most any discussion and make sure all parties agree to them. Unfortunately, even once I realized the confusion and explained it to him, we were forced to agree to disagree, as he seemed unable or unwilling to concede my assertion that they were separable.

For those folks who are ‘theistic evolutionists,’ this is the uphill battle they face. There are all too many people on both sides like my friend who don’t see them as separable. Therefore, many Christians see them as heretics, and many naturalists see them as cheap compromisers trying to find a way to allow for their faith in the face of ‘overwhelming scientific evidence to the contrary.’

In nearly every field, there is at least one issue that causes bitter division. What is it in yours? Can some of the heat in the division be reduced by taking a step back, and starting from first principles, set up the definition of terms such that jumbled ideas can be separated? (Maybe this isn’t possible long term as the jumbled ideas may truly be interrelated, but is it possible to temporarily set up a separation for purposes of argument and theory refinement?)

SDG