When is a theist argument, not a theist argument?
John M. has been raising the point in comments lately of theology presupposing the existence of a deity, and at least in as far as theology as a vocation and discipline goes, I agree with him. Theology classes and schools presuppose the existence of a God, and usually the patron God of the college or university they are hosted at.
I had an atheist acquaintance that took a theology class down at Flinders University (a public University) which she struggled with because she was expected to presupposed not just a hypothetical God, but the Christian God (and a specific version of the Christian God at that). Being asked to imagine that God is real, without questioning the validity of such a premise was difficult for her. Her mind kept wandering to the “but what if God doesn’t exist?”
On the other hand, a tutor I had at UniSA was a graduate of Flinders University who also studied theology, was an atheist, and didn’t have any such problem. While not exactly suspending disbelief, he could view the content as thought experiment.
This of course raises a question. What exactly did my atheist tutor get out of studying hypothetical, theological arguments?
Considering that he critiqued the appeal to divine authority in ethical matters as terminally wrong, and in lectures used the Flying Spaghetti Monster as an example of an unfalsifiable God, you wouldn’t be far off the mark in assuming that his studies in theology re-enforced atheistic positions, or at least in as far as ethics was concerned, anti-theism.
I’m not sure that anti-theism is the right word though.
Much of religion posits the divine as the ultimate authority on matters ethical and moral. It need not be so. Just because a hypothetical God exists it does not follow that the God has an interest or even a comprehension of ethics or morality. This is why the Euthyphro dilemma (being Platonic, pre-Christian but theist and incorporated into Christian theology all the same) is so powerful when wielded by atheists against religious moralisers.
Furthermore, even if a God was to exist and one that wasn’t amoral, one couldn’t know it with the kind of clarity that would be a pre-requisite to developing moral codes for practice in the real world. Nobody can demonstrate material evidence (i.e. the kind you can demonstrate to other people) to back up such divine authority and in the face of competeing religious-moral claims becomes both terminally problematic and obviously erroneous.
Testimony to the numinous may make for tingly feelings at floor-writhing sessions, but it’s a lousy basis for your morals. Throw in the issues posed by absolutism and divine moral authority becomes very problematic indeed.
As an atheist with an interest in ethics, this is somewhat obvious to me. It was obvious to my mentioned tutor and it is probably obvious to most of you. It’s also obvious to some theologians, especially Richard Holloway, who’s Godless Morality: Keeping Religion out of Ethics is still on my wish list.
Ethics not based on God? Perhaps John M. would argue that this isn’t an example of theology, that by basing the content outside of religion and not on God it was in an entirely different category of philosophy. I think if we use the term “theology” more colloquially, more casually, we can get away with calling Holloway’s mentioned text an exercise in theology, but perhaps not if we are more discrete in our use of terms.
On the otherhand, the author does presuppose God’s existence in critiquing God as a basis for morality, and as a Christian, obviously presupposes God more generally.
It’s not just morality where there is a blurring of the line. The cosmology sees a blurring as well.
As an atheist, I don’t believe in the existence of Hell. There is no evidence for the existence of Hell. The non-evidence arguments for God are far more convincing than anything supporting the idea of Hell. Hell is an idea made up by humans, to frighten other humans who don’t do what they are told.
Hell is a place in the imagination of some rather perverse people who see my burning in torment (or whatever), possibly for eternity, as morally acceptable. That’s what Hell is to me as an atheist.
Maybe you are a theist who thinks I’m going to Hell, albeit possibly for a short time. Or not. You may think I’ll burn for a long time. Maybe you weep over this prospect. You weep over me going to Hell for being a well-meaning non-believer, yet you defer to this schema because you love God. A God who isn’t at similar risk of torment should I not go to Hell. You love this God demonstrably more than you love me, while I, unlike God, can and will demonstrate my existence quite explicitly to you.
If you believe this, it says a lot about your (unhealthy) psychology. I suspect most atheists would agree with me.
So it seems would some theologians. To borrow the words of John Shelby Spong, if you believe I’m going to Hell and that God exists as a parent figure driving this twisted cosmology, you need to grow up.
Spong doesn’t believe that Hell exists. Neither do I. Spong doesn’t believe in The Virgin Birthtm (another concept appropriated from pagan religions pre-dating Christ.) Neither as an atheist, do I. He rejects the resurrection of Christ as a historical event. So do I.
Not your typical theology and far more typical of atheist non-belief. And maybe it isn’t appropriate to call it “theology”. Spong believes that theism doesn’t adequately explain his spirituality and that Christianity needs to move beyond theism to survive (Why Christianity Must Change or Die – 1999).
I think perhaps, “Deism” or “Deology” or some other description may need to be used in order to accurately describe what the likes of Spong believe and study. If Christianity needs to go beyond theism to survive (or if only to function better), then perhaps a Christian calling one’s self a theologian isn’t such a good idea.
I think we are going to see more of this blurring of semantics over terms like “atheist”, “deist”, “theist” and so on.
During the enlightenment, many philosophers of Christian tradition began to identify as “deist”. These were philosophers like David Hume, not so much theologians. The term “deist” since exploded in usage.
I think we are at a similar semantic crossroads. “Atheist” used to be a dirty word, but it is rightly being subverted by the identity politics of the people that the word was originally used to denigrate. This is thanks to the progression of liberalism and to the stand many atheists continue to take against religious bigotry.
Similarly, the likes of Spong are standing up to the theistic orthodoxy they are surrounded by. Rather than a philosophical separation from theism as evinced by Hume and the like, beliefs like Spong’s seem to be evolving from theism into something else.
I’m not sure that “revolution” is the right word, but I think something is in the process of clicking over and no, I don’t think this is New Year’s Day speaking.
Until this happens, I suspect the boundaries and semantics will become more ambiguous as the terms we have inherited lose their capacity to explain the full breadth of increasingly diverse thought of believer and non-believer.
So in answer to my own question, if you’ll allow me as much, a theist argument isn’t a theist argument when “theist” doesn’t mean what it used to. Maybe the likes of Spong will appropriate the term, and maybe there will be a new word that old-theology is refered to by (”theidiocy” is a neologism already commonly in use, although I doubt it would be adopted formally within academic circles). Maybe not.
Maybe as per Sam Harris’ assertion of what should be, atheists won’t identify as atheists anymore because no longer are they being backed up into a corners by “theidiocist” hegemony. Wishful thinking maybe.
Whatever way things turn out, I suspect that how the terms change will be more interesting than what any particular argument belongs discretely in which category.
~ Bruce
