Darwin v. God

I'm not going to offer a critique of Richard Dawkins latest book, The God Delusion, because I think that has been done adequately already, by H. Allen Orr in The New York Review, among others (and because I have not read it all--I left my copy in the States). But I do wish to discuss one reason why he thought it necessary for him to write the book in the first place. Why did Dawkins take it upon himself to write a wholesale attack on, not only fundamental Christianity or Islam, but the entire human enterprise of religion? The philosopher Daniel Dennett, in a response to Orr, calls Dawkins "no expert on religion" but suggest that he considered it his duty "as a concerned scientist" to subject religion to "unflinching scrutiny" This is, I suppose, the unflinching scrutiny that scientists or philosophers bring to their analyses of the natural world. But why is Dawkins the best suited to apply such scrutiny? Dennett criticizes Orr for defending religion, saying "he adopts a double standard when the topic is religion." But isn't Dennett upset when a religion scholar sets out to write a book on science (as has happened with certain text books recently)? Is he not, then, applying just such a double standard to Dawkins's work?

Orr suggests a more plausible explanation: Dawkins is an evolutionary biologist. "And as we all know, Darwinism had an early and noisy run-in with religion." And clearly, the recent attempts by certain religious sorts to whitewash Dawinism have gotten under Dawkins's skin. But, as Orr notes, although Darwinsim "demands a rejection of anything approaching biblical literalism," there is no reason that "evolutionary biology cannot inform our view of religion." He suggests that religious belief can be made to jive with the facts of evolution. That is, we can have God and Darwin. And if this is so, then perhaps Dawkins's professional reason for diving into the debate (in book form) is unwarranted.

But Dawkins primary grievance against religion--and remember, he attacks religion generally--is not that it does not conform to the facts of evolution, but rather that it is simply wrong, false, a lie, a delusion. But what Orr focuses on as the central argument in the book is a strictly philosophical thought experiment (the Ultimate Boeing 747 example). Dawkins, it seems, is attempting to hit religion from within. Even if you are not convinced about Darwininsm, Dawkins claims, you should still be able to see that God cannot exist. His argument has been sufficiently criticized by Orr and others (not least, Thomas Nagel in The New Republic).

I think it is fair to say that Dawkins's attempt failed, but I want to investigate more the relationship between evolution and religion. Orr may be right that the facts of evolution can be reconciled with the beliefs of religion. But this does not go far enough. A more fundamental problem for religion, going back at least to Marx and Nietzsche, is the claim that religion is somehow at odds with evolution. That is, given that evolution is life, is the basic truth of human life, religion is dangerously and fundamentally anti-life. Even if religious beliefs can be reconciled with evolution, religious practice never can be. The things demanded by religious observance--altruism; deference to others; sacrifice and offering; glorification of death; limits on reproduction--seem to be the exact opposites of the things necessary for evolutionary success.

But, perhaps practicing religion (I'm also talking of religion generally here) actually had an advantage for our ancestors. That is, rather than being a cumbersome evolutionary anomaly--and beyond its simply being useful for group cohesion--perhaps religion's seemingly harsh strictures actually contained evolutionary advantages for individuals. If this is right, it would give us an entirely novel way to think about religion. Putting aside the question of whether we should only support human activities that make sense evolutionarily, Dawkins and company could be criticized for not giving religion enough credit: perhaps it is beneficial (or even necessary) in a strictly evolutionary sense. It makes no sense to attack the human practice of sleeping simply because it wastes valuable time. Perhaps it makes just as little sense to attack religion.

What do I have in mind? Well, only really one specific thing: providing offerings of food and resources to a god could actually make you healthier and wealthier. For most organisms, the more food you get the better able you are to survive, and the more you survive, the more you reproduce, and reproduction equals evolutionary success. But humans are different. Even basic tools developed many millions of years ago could have the capability to provide more than enough food for an individual and his immediate family/offspring. Our ancestors' greatest concerns would have been things like finding shelter and avoiding predators. Food, at least when the weather was good, would not have been so difficult--it is more within human control. Under these circumstances, a human could potentially eat too much. Unlike other animals, we do not have the ability to carry lots of extra food on our bodies. In a prolonged famine, no matter how much fat we had, we'd get it. Our ancestors might have been able to preserve and store food for the lean times, as long as they didn't set about gorging themselves whenever they got a fresh kill. Gorging would have had a twofold disadvantage: making them sluggish now and leaving them unprepared for future shortages.

Religion's seemingly counter-advantageous demand for sacrifice and offering would have taught moderation and potentially saving and planning. Michael Pollan, in an article I've mentioned before, " Unhappy Meals", points out that "Once one of the longest-lived people on earth, the Okinawans practiced a principle they called "Hara Hachi Bu": eat until you are 80 percent full." Moderation is clearly beneficial; giving up ten percent to the gods can be healthy. And a Confucian proverb, in the Mencius (7A23) says, "If the people consume their stores at the proper time and expend them in accordance with ritual propriety, their stores will be inexhaustible" (Roger Ames and Henry Rosemont translation). Following traditions, adhering to rituals: these are ways to ensure that there is always enough food--and these are exactly what religion demands.

Perhaps this is an outline of an evolutionarily beneficial explanation of one aspect of religion: offering and sacrifice. If I wanted to make a full case here, I'd have to try to similarly explain what is to be gained from religion's rules about reproduction and expensive ceremonies and glorification of death. But this is a start. It is not to hard to see the plausibility of my view. How could religious belief ever take hold if it was not somehow fundamentally beneficial? (I should note that I'm leaving aside the question of its truth. Even if God is real, people would not easily be persuaded to believe it if it were not beneficial to their survival. And even if some people did, by the rules of evolution, they'd be quickly eliminated from the gene pool.)

One final thought: even though the details of evolution were entirely novel when Darwin proposed them, I believe that the conflict between his sort of biology and religious practice is much older. Look at the challenge put to Abraham. In terms of biology, the sacrifice of Isaac is the most damaging thing that Abraham could do. God puts him in a position to choose between biology and religion, between life and ritual. If I am right, this is a deep perversion of the ritual--the tool designed to save is used as a weapon. Are humans, who have lived by religious practice and belief, able to be killed by it as well? Of course, God does not make him do it. But my question remains unanswered...

Guantanamo

Whenever I try to justify U.S. foreign policy to someone from another country, I can do pretty well talking about development aid, free trade and our efforts to liberalize markets. I even have some success defending the Iraq fiasco. But all he needs to do is mention "Guantanamo" for the conversation to fall flat. What can I possibly say to justify that?

This is reason enough to shut the whole place down. But we must do more than that. As Amnesty International argues, Guantanamo represents the "tip of the iceberg" of our international law violations during the war on terror. We must shine a bright light on all that the CIA and the Department of Defence have been doing to prisoners around the world. We need a full Congressional report detailing all of the brutal ins and outs of the process whereby men were rounded up in Mauritania or Pakistan, Iraq or Afghanistan, shipped around the world, interrogated and tortured. Perhaps this will harm our prestige in the world even more. But it is a necessary price. We cannot, we must not, allow a president of the United States, or any representative or employee of the government, to get away with violation of international law. If we do, we have come a long way down a slippery slope that leads to a revocation of the rule of law altogether. The rule of law is an elusive concept, but suffice it to say, it is whatever was missing in Hitler's Germany, Stalin's Russia, and today in Kim Jong-Il's North Korea. Allowing for a secret violation of a treaty to which we are a party allows for secret violations of any kind of law we can write. Secretly reinterpreting the generally understood terms of a treaty is just as bad.

Clearly, the U.S. believes that its prisoners fall under neither "prisoners of war" nor "protected persons" (i.e. civilians) as defined and protected by the Geneva Conventions. Iraqi and Afghan citizens certainly are at the very least protected persons, since we openly declared war on those countries. All people who are held "in the hands of a Party to the conflict or Occupying Power of which they are not nationals" are protected, unless they are "nationals of a neutral State who find themselves in the territory of a belligerent State...while the State of which they are nationals has normal diplomatic representation in the State in whose hands they are" (Convention IV, Part I, Art.4). Iraq and Afghanistan are not neutral, so their citizens are protected. The Conventions stipulate that "No physical or moral coercion shall be exercised against protected persons, in particular to obtain information from them or from third parties" (IV, III, 31).

As for nationals of a neural state which which we have normal diplomatic relations, the Convention assumes that we can sort them out through normal diplomatic channels. In the case of countries such as Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Mauritania, the countries have capitulated to the U.S. rather than defend the rights of their citizens. (All countries in question have signed the Geneva Conventions of 1949.)

Nevertheless, it is hard to make the case that "enemy combatants" of all kinds and from all nations should not be afforded protection as prisoners of war. Convention III defines most prisoners of war in terms of a "Party" to a conflict, which the the U.S. can legitimately claim does not exist. But the definition also affords protection to "Inhabitants of a non-occupied territory, who on the approach of the enemy spontaneously take up arms to resist the invading forces, without having had time to form themselves into regular armed units, provided they carry arms openly and respect the laws and customs of war" (III, I, 4). I think it is not difficult to make the case that insurgents respect the laws and customs of war. Your average foreign insurgent in Iraq or Afghanistan is far different from Mohammad Atta and co., if not in temperament, then in means of combat. And in this case, means of combat makes all the difference.

Targeting civilians is, of course, not allowed. But many of the insurgents we've picked up are simply irregular soldiers fighting urban guerrilla warfare the best way they can. They should be afforded protection as prisoners of war. And if they are, they are entitled to, among many other things: "premises [that are]...entirely protected from dampness and adequately heated and lighted"(III, part III, art.25), and "In the event of transfer, prisoners of war shall be officially advised of their departure and of their new postal address" (III, part III, art.48). As Amnesty International reports, some detainees have been held at "a secret prison near Kabul that was know as the 'prison of darkness' because detainees were subjected to darkness and loud music around the clock." If the detainees can be shown to be prisoners of war, this flagrantly violates the Conventions.

Perhaps I'm mistaken. Perhaps the U.S. has stuck to the letter (if certainly not the spirit) of the Conventions. Perhaps a deep Congressional investigation would ultimately vindicate recent U.S. policy and practice. If so, so much the better. But if not, we have to show the members of the current administration, and all future administrations, that ultimately they cannot hide crimes forever. In America, secrets do not stay secret. That is our only defense. It is unfortunate to admit, but the best and perhaps only way to ensure that an investigation of the sort I'm imagining takes place is to elect a president who will direct it on his or her own initiative. In this matter at least, the executive branch is dangerously unchecked. When the Supreme court struck down the legitimacy of the military commissions used to (eventually) try detainees (Hamdan v. Rumsfeld, 29 June 2006), Bush simply convinced the (still Republican) Congress to pass the Military Commissions Act legalizing them.

We need a president who will not only shut down Guantanamo but will also ensure that everything that's been going on comes wholly to light. Barring this, we need some more radical alternative...

Jerry Falwell died...

Jerry Falwell died on May 15th in Lynchburg, Virginia, where he was born and where he founded the Thomas Road Baptist Church, Liberty University and the Moral Majority movement. He was 73.

One of the figurehead firebrands at the front of the evangelical spiritual and political movement in the U.S., he was criticized (or reviled) for his occasional shocking soundbites. (Here is his post-9/11 gem: ''I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the A.C.L.U., People for the American Way -- all of them who have tried to secularize America -- I point the finger in their face and say, 'You helped this happen.''')

But he created a church of 22,000 and many more tuned in to his "Old-Time Gospel Hour". Suffice it to say that he lent support to the notion that America is divided: Christian and secular; red and blue; moral and...amoral? Or is it immoral?

It is odd, then, that his greatest innovation was as a uniter, and not, as it were, a divider. After Roe v. Wade in 1973, he decided that it was necessary in America today for the Church to engage in politics. With the Moral Majority in the '80s, and later on his own, he forged alliances across a wide swath of Christianity. He put out fires that had been burning for centuries, and he did it by simply avoiding the well-worn theological disputes that lead to intractable differences between the denominations. He calculated that Christians of all stripes could be untied around a core of political issues. Even if a Baptist and a Catholic, say, cannot agree on the nature of baptism or the Eucharist, they can agree that condoms are wrong or that abortion is evil or homosexuality a sin.

"Behind the idea of the Moral Majority was this notion that there could be a coalition of these different religious groups that all agree on abortion and homosexuality and other issues even if they never agreed on how to read the Bible or the nature of God," said John Green, director of the Ray C. Bliss Institute of Applied Politics at the University of Akron. (Quoted in the NY Times obit.)

In my previous post, I agreed with Garry Wills when he argued that the Church should be united as a single body. (I disagreed with his argument that the pope is crucial, or even beneficial, to this end.) For Wills, the core of his beliefs are basically the positions outlined in the Apostles' Creed. These are the beliefs that we all, as Christians, must share. And these are the beliefs around which I would build a united front. But Falwell's issue-oriented approach turns this on its head. Instead of uniting around the core of Christian belief, he united people around the fringe issues. As Wills says, "I do not, I confess, continually meditate on the evil of condoms or the horror of letting women be priests" (for the record, he does not believe that these things are either evil or horrific). Instead, he meditates on the resurrection and the trinity, as do all Christians, I suppose.

But importantly it was the fringe, political issues that kept bumping up against mainstream American life. It was the fringe issues that an average congregant, an average voter, could become passionate about. It was the fringe issues around which Falwell could build a coalition. But I think ultimately, these fringe issues will tear the Church apart rather than unite it. (See, for instance, the current schism in the U.S. Episcopal Church over the issue of homosexuality.) So, let's forget about the kind of unity that Falwell prescribed. Let Falwell go down as primarily a political leader, and not a theologian. Hold whatever political views you want, but I think it is a mistake to confuse such things with religious belief.

Review: Why I Am a Catholic

Why I Am a Catholic
by Garry Wills
Houghton Mifflin, 2002

I used to think that the importance of religion was the personal, spiritual relationship with the Almighty, and that the various forms of organized religion were various forms of BS standing in the way. Lately, however, I've reversed this formula: I think that public, collective ritual is more important; a mystical relationship is secondary or, perhaps, delusional. For this reason, I thought it would be interesting to dabble in the Catholic Church. The saints, the rosary, no meat on Friday--Catholicism is rich with ritual. But after reading Garry Wills's Why I am a Catholic, I've decided to stick with boring old Methodism. This is not to say that I disagree with any of Wills's points; his goal here was not to convince me why I should be a Catholic. Rather, given the long list of papal abuse and misconduct, one would have to be a very loyal son, as Wills seems to be, to stick with the Church. In short, this book was no Catholic screed.

Wills begins with a biography of his spiritual life, beginning with Catholic grade school and boarding school, then Jesuit seminary. He eventually dropped out of seminary and pursued a secular academic career--he is a history professor currently at Northwestern. He has nothing but good things to say about his upbringing (no sexual abuse; only a little corporal mortification as a Jesuit novice). His teachers were all sincere and knowledgeable. He is arguing, as we soon see, that the average Catholic life differs wildly from, and is much more wholesome and worthwhile than, the exploits of the Pope.

The bulk of the book is a sprawling history of the Catholic Church, beginning with Peter and Paul. Do not use this book as a primer on church history, however: very little space is given to, for instance, the conversion of Constantine or the Reformation. Wills directs his focus on the papacy throughout. In the beginning, he demonstrates, there was no pope and Peter was not a bishop of Rome since there was no such office at the time. As the church organized and developed, the pope in Rome played second fiddle to bishops in the cosmopolitan, academic cities like Alexandria, Antioch, and later Constantinople. It was not until a millennium after Christ, once the west and the east were completely separate and the church began playing politics in Europe, that the papacy gained its primacy. This was done well outside the mandate of scripture, Wills claims. Although Peter was given authority over the church in a much-quoted passage in Mathew 16, this does not imply the necessity of the strict hierarchical structure that Rome established. Rather, Wills argues, this authority is merely a defense against the dissolution of the Church.

The history culminates in the Vatican II council which took place from 1962 to 1965. Wills calls this the "great rebirth" of the Catholic Church, finally eliminating some of the strictures that set Rome apart from the international Catholic community--especially the American Catholic community. The largest change effected was the recognition of the laity as the "people of God", a step up from the governed sheep they had been officially thought of before. Also important was the status given to Protestants and believers of other religions: "Baptized Protestants are members of the Body of Christ....Jews, too, are 'the people of God,' and not mere pre-Christians or Christ-slayers." Finally, Vatican II recognized the legitimacy of the separation of church and state. Five years after the election of John Kennedy, the Catholic Church officially declared that the American democratic system was not blatantly sinful.

Wills then heaps criticism on John Paul II--and his "doctrinal alter ego" Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger (now know as pope Benedict XVI)--for not only his subtle rejection of Vatican II and his opposition to contraceptives, female clergy and married priests, but also his support of Opus Dei (of Davinci Code fame), his canonization of Juan Diego, a man "who seems to never have existed", and his claim of martyrdom after an assassination attempt. But John Paul represents a small step backward for Wills. Vatican II cemented his belief that the sensible Catholic masses can correct any blunder, however ghastly, that the pope can make.

If Wills pulls no punches when it comes to the popes (leaving aside John XXIII, who presided over Vatican II), he ultimately defends the papacy. He claims that the Christian church should be a single community, and that the papacy, by way of Peter, represents the Christian church on earth. "Peter is not the master of truth or power or government. He is the center around which the other parts of the church cohere." Wills seems, finally, to have bought the line that the pope stands in for Peter.

I find this position, given the other arguments in the book, to be very weak, for three reasons: 1) Peter, when he was "running" the church, claimed no authority whatsoever. He was an expert go-between, a negotiator, a friend to all, who helped to knit together the Apostolic churches using not coercion or decree but patient conversation. This is what the leader (or leaders) of the Christian church on earth should look like. This is the heritage left to us from Peter. Others were able (and certainly not all of them were based in Rome), using similar techniques to hold the church together for a millennium without papal primacy. 2) The papacy's first act of primacy within the church was to excommunicate the patriarch of Constantinople, causing the schism between Orthodox Christianity and Catholicism. (This was done by Pope Leo IX in 1054.) Is this the kind of unity a church with papal primacy provides? Moreover, the popes' abuses of privilege were the primary reasons for Luther's split in the the sixteenth century. Would we have to contend with the Protestant/Catholic divide if not for the papacy? 3) Finally, until Vatican II, Catholics were officially dissuaded even from entering into organizations with non-Catholics, and freedom of religious expression was officially heretical (Leo XIII's Longingua and Pius IX's Quanta Cura, respectively). How can unity be possible in these circumstances, even within the Catholic church? Many Catholics disobeyed these dicta, to be sure, but how then is the papacy responsible for cohesion withing the church? Wills asks us to consider "just how much worse things would have been without [the papacy]." I'm not convinced things would not look a whole lot better.

Finally, Wills lays bare his own beliefs by way of the Apostles' Creed. He explains that the Creed is the core of Christian doctrine, the set of propositions you must believe if you call yourself a Christian. He dives right into the trickiest aspects of the faith and explains how he was able, in his own small way, to come to an understanding of them. For instance, his discussions of the Trinity and the Lord's Prayer are deep and wide-ranging; he does justice to the rich theology and history they embody. This is really the heart of the book, and a worthwhile read for anyone. In fact, it is striking how little of Wills's core belief is Catholic, as opposed to some other sort of Christianity. When Christians honestly sit down and compare notes, we all believe pretty much the same thing.

So, although I do not buy Wills's claim that the Pope represents Christian unity, I do agree that Christian unity would be a good thing. And I respect the sincerity, thoughtfulness and candor of his beliefs. So perhaps my criticisms have been too harsh. Rather than remain a Methodist, I'd prefer to just be Christian. If only Wills--and others--were willing to make a similar concession.