Where conspiracy theories go wrong

Introduction

When it comes to such things as whether or not the US administration was behind the 9/11 attacks, if there is a global Zionist conspiracy, whether the moon landings were faked or not, and so on, then there exist objective truths of the matter. If we were in full possession of all the relevant facts, and were cognitively accurate in our analysis of these facts, then we would have no doubt as to what these truths are. The problem arises because we usually don’t have access to all of the relevant facts, and our analysis of the facts that we do have can err in a number of ways. Nevertheless, there are still better and worse ways of getting to the truth.

If we wish to form warranted beliefs about these and other matters, then we first need to establish as many well-grounded and relevant facts as possible, and then use a good method to form our beliefs based upon these facts. To be deemed a good method, it should exhibit predictive success (which is what we really mean by something being true), and convergent accumulation of consistent results. That is, we should expect it to routinely produce propositions that have predictions that match reality, and continue to do so if we investigate them from different angles. The methods of reason and science have proven to be the preeminent methods for learning about the world.

Conversely, if we start with few well-grounded facts, or supposed facts that are actually false, and then use a poor method in order to form our beliefs from these facts, then our beliefs will likely be false. In the worst case, if we form our beliefs based upon nothing more than hearsay, desire, and speculation, then they are almost guaranteed to be false. The reasons for this are firstly that false beliefs are just as easily propagated as true ones; and secondly that the number of false beliefs will always vastly outnumber the number of true ones, so any arbitrarily chosen belief that is not well-founded (i.e. not based upon evidence and reason) will almost certainly be false. Based upon these thoughts, here are a number of ways in which conspiracy theories go wrong:

1. They get their facts wrong

If we start with incorrect facts, then any conclusions deduced or inferred from these ‘facts’ will be unwarranted. For example, some 9/11 conspiracy theorists believe it is a fact that mobile phones do not work in airborne planes, and then deduce from this ‘fact’ that the phone calls from the passengers and crew aboard the hijacked planes must have been faked. However, some of the calls made from the hijacked planes were made from air phones, not mobiles, so the objection is immaterial in that case. Moreover, it is not actually true that mobiles don’t work at all in planes that are airborne. A mobile phone will in fact often work when a plane is closer to the ground during the climb and the descent, and even sometimes when the plane is at cruising altitude if it is flying in the vicinity of a strong signal from a phone mast.

Another example of a mistaken fact is that the explosion in one of the tube trains on 7/7 came from underneath the floor – suggesting that a bomb had been planted there earlier (as part of a conspiracy by the government/security services, we are supposed to infer). However, this ‘fact’ is also incorrect. It came originally from an early report from one eyewitness aboard the tube train in question, and was then widely disseminated on the internet. However, later eyewitness reports – including those from passengers who were much closer to the explosion – made it clear that the source of the explosion was the terrorist’s backpack, and not somewhere underneath the train.

An oft-repeated claim made by 9/11 conspiracy theorists is that around 4000 Jews stayed away from work at the World Trade Centers on September 11th. However, this ‘fact’ is also false. Estimates from the 1700 dead based upon the religion listed put the number of Jewish at 270. Another estimate based the last name of victims put the total number of Jews at up to 400. A survey of 390 victims who worked for Cantor Fitzgerald found that 49 were Jewish. This accords well with New York State’s population in general, in which 9% are Jewish.

Fake Moon landing conspiracy theorists point to many supposed impossibilities or inconsistencies with the evidence. One of these is the ‘fact’ that a flag cannot wave in a vacuum, but that the American flag was seen to wave in the film footage from the Moon. However, in one photo that is often cited, the flag is ‘waving’ because the pole to which it is attached is being rotated by the astronaut. The fact that there is no atmosphere is irrelevant in this case. In other cases, the flag gives the appearance in photos of waving because the horizontal rod from which it is deployed was not fully extended, so the flag was not fully unfurled. Much more about this here: http://www.badastronomy.com/bad/tv/foxapollo.html.

There are innumerable other examples where conspiracy theorists have failed to get important facts correct. Of course, they could assert that their facts are correct, and that the generally accepted facts of the matter are actually all part of the conspiracy. However, they would further sacrifice the plausibility and parsimony of their theory if they were to take this approach. For more on this, see below.


2. They make errors of reasoning

One very prominent error of reasoning that usually features in conspiracy theories is a form of cui bono, in that they look for who might benefit from the conspiracy (often the US or other government), and then deduce that this agent is therefore responsible for the act in question. For example, 9/11 conspiracy theorists argue that the Bush administration had much to gain from perpetrating the attacks and blaming them on Al Qaeda, as this would give them an excuse to go into Iraq and Afghanistan, thereby getting rid of an uncooperative Sadam Hussein, getting control of some of the region’s oil, and distracting the electorate from other of the administration’s policy failures at home etc. However, we are not entitled to deduce logically from the existence of these benefits (even if we suppose them to be true) to the US government being responsible for the attacks. It is a logical fallacy of the form:

P1: X would benefit if event Y was to happen
P2: Event Y happened
C: Therefore, X caused event Y to happen

A simple counterexample should suffice to show the fallacy:

P1: My local pizza takeaway would benefit from a Credit Crunch (as more people would then buy pizza)
P2: The Credit Crunch happened
C: Therefore, my local pizza takeaway caused the Credit Crunch to happen

In response to this, one could argue that the US administration had the means, as well as the motive, to carry out the 9/11 attacks and then cover it up, whereas my local pizza takeaway didn't. However, as I will argue below, whether it actually had the means to do this is part of my disagreement with conspiracy theorists - so that response would beg the question. Moreover, even if we were to grant, for the sake of argument, that the agent in question has both the motive and the possible means, I can give a new counterexample as follows:

P1: John would benefit (financially) if his wife's parents were to die
P2: John's wife's parents are killed in an apparent accident
C: Therefore, John caused his wife's parents to be killed (and made it look like an accident)

Whilst it's possible that John did indeed arrange to have his wife's parents killed, the mere fact that he had both the motive and conceivable means doesn't lead to that conclusion - the argument is a non-sequitur. That he had motive and possible means might cause the police to question John, but if there was overwhelming evidence that he didn't commit any crime, then means and motive alone would carry little weight. So, we cannot legitimately deduce from identifying who would benefit from the occurrence of some event to the conclusion that the agent in question caused the event to happen (even if the agent in question might have the means to cause the event).

Some may attempt at this point to rescue the weak motive and means argument above by adding that we have prior experience of the type of agents under consideration (typically some Western government, or State or military body) carrying out similar acts, and therefore they should come under strong suspicion whenver something like this happens. However, it is precisely because we don't have any good precedents for such large-scale, audacious, and often ruthless conspiracies that they are the stuff of conspiracy theory at all (although small-scale and mundane conspiracies have been exposed many times). If they were the type of commonplace event that would lead us to rationally suspect the US administration (or whoever) when something like 9/11 happened (or whatever conspiracy theory du jour is under discussion), then their potential guilt would be discussed and investigated widely and openly, and not just confined to the conspiracy theorists on the fringe. So, even this fails.

Another reasoning error that conspiracy theorists make is that they refuse to accept any evidence that would refute their theory, but are then extremely credulous of any prima facie evidence that would be expected on their theory. In other words, they are just looking to verify their theory, and adopt totally different bars with regard to supporting and contrary evidence – with any supporting evidence being accepted almost without question, and any contrary evidence being rejected out of hand or explained away by the introduction of some ad-hoc element (e.g. that apparently contrary evidence has been planted by the conspirators etc). In addition to the problems of confirmation bias, this strategy effectively makes the conspiracy theories unfalsifiable, as no evidence whatsoever would ever be accepted as refuting them. To hold such a belief is irrational, as it could just as easily be false as true, but there would be no way for you to ever tell, as no evidence would ever convince you of its falseness. As Karl Popper said, a theory that explains everything explains nothing.

Conspiracy theorists also err by imbuing the conspirators with omnipotence and omniscience, in that they are supposed to have almost limitless knowledge and power to plan, commit, and then cover up their conspiracies. They believe this despite abundant evidence for the widespread incompetence and ignorance of government, security services, and other agencies, the general fallibility of human beings, and the fact that even small-scale conspiracies are often bungled and uncovered by the mainstream media.

Another error of reasoning that conspiracy theorists make is to argue “possibly, therefore probably”. Yes, it is possible that the US administration was behind the 9/11 attacks, that the Moon landings were faked, that the AIDS virus was created artificially in order to kill black people (or homosexuals), or even that the world is secretly run by a secret cabal of giant lizards or that the previous pope was a robot etc. However, the fact that something is theoretically possible does not mean that it is at all probable, or that it is anything like the best explanation for the facts at hand.

In general, when we are faced with multiple hypotheses that would all predict some set of observations (as we will always be in the real world), then if we are looking for the truth we need to look for the best explanation for the observations. We could test hypotheses formally using Bayes’ Theorem (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bayes%27_theorem), but, less formally we should apply abductive reasoning. This methodology (which can be demonstrated using Bayes’ Theorem to be valid), calls upon us to compare possible explanations for some set of observations by looking at their plausibility, parsimony, explanatory scope, and explanatory power. In the case of conspiracy theories, they fail primarily in terms of plausibility and parsimony.

For example, if we look at the 9/11 attacks, we are supposed to believe that there was some vast conspiracy involving the Administration, the security services, and the military. Furthermore, either the passengers on the planes were taken into hiding, or else killed. The terrorists would either have been planted, or else would be just patsies. All of the evidence pointing to Al Qaeda would have been manufactured. And with all of this, we are to believe that either the mainstream media is also involved in the conspiracy, or else that the (notoriously inept) government and its agencies managed to keep all of the incriminating evidence secret from the media. Of course, small conspiracies have come to light in the past (such as the Watergate and Contra scandals) but, despite being much less ambitious in scale, they notably were still exposed. We have no precedent for such large-scale and audacious conspiracies as would be required to fake the 9/11 attacks, or to create and release some virus and then convince health organisations, doctors, and worldwide media that it arose naturally. As such, the existence of such a conspiracy is inherently implausible (even if not actually impossible).

By contrast, we have lots of examples of terrorist attacks – including large-scale ones from Al Qaeda. Although this one was more audacious than previous ones, there is nothing inherently implausible about it, as it required nothing more than some planning and the involvement of some Muslims who were capable of learning some very rudimentary flying skills and willing to die for their beliefs. We have lots of examples of planes being hijacked, and lots of examples of Muslim fundamentalists carrying out suicide attacks – so there is lots of precedent. And, contrary to some other speculations, experts agree that only basic flying skills were required in order to fly the planes into the Towers and Pentagon. So, on balance, this explanation is far more plausible than the conspiracy alternative. Similarly, we have lots of precedent for viruses arising, mutating, and spreading naturally (just think of previous flu epidemics, for example). So, again, this is inherently more plausible than the alternative explanations. The only way around this is to presume that all of these precedents were themselves conspiracies, in which case the theories would gain plausibility at the expense of parsimony – see below.

When we examine a theory’s parsimony, we are applying Occam’s Razor (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Occam%27s_razor). That is, when we have two or more theories that both predict the observations, then the simpler one is to be preferred. Or, to put it another way, we should not multiply assumptions and entities beyond necessity. For example, if we were to find a crime scene in which there was a single bullet hole in the window of house, and one bullet lying on the carpet inside, should we rather presume that just one bullet was involved, or that multiple bullets were fired through the same hole and then all but one removed from the inside of the house? Occam’s Razor would lead us to choose the former explanation, as it posits no more assumptions or entities than are needed to explain the observations. This is a good methodological rule of thumb, as it prevents us from going beyond what is supported by the evidence (and can be shown by application of Bayes’ Theorem to increase the probability that the explanation is true).

Now, in addition to their general lack of plausibility, conspiracy theories are usually for more complex and far more ad-hoc (incorporating assumptions and entities into the theories that are not themselves independently justified) than are the generally accepted explanations. Instead of just some fanatical Muslims hijacking planes and then into the Towers and the Pentagon, we have to invent some huge complex of interrelated explanations for what actually happened, how and what we were led to believe happened, and why none of this has been exposed (other than to a few diligent conspiracy theorists). Every time we think of a way that it could go wrong (eyewitnesses telling the true story, any of the hundreds or thousands of people involved could go to the press with damning evidence, or some other incontrovertible evidence coming to light), then we are forced to add some additional ad-hoc element to our theory in order to explain this away (eyewitnesses killed, the media are part of the conspiracy, all other evidence planted or changed etc). Hence, the application of Occam’s Razor would lead us to reject the unnecessarily complex conspiracy theory in favour of the much simpler explanation that explains the same observations with far fewer unproven assumptions.


Conclusion

In conclusion, conspiracy theories generally contain important factual mistakes and commit a number of errors of reasoning. They tend to move from some agency having something to gain from a particular state of affairs to the unjustified conclusion that therefore said agency actually brought about that state of affairs. Furthermore, they are overly sceptical of any evidence that goes against their theory, and overly credulous of any that supports it. By adding ad-hoc elements to the theory to explain away apparently contradictory evidence, they actually render the theory effectively unfalsifiable. They also tend to assume practically unlimited power and knowledge on the part of the conspirators. Whilst they might in principle be true, possible doesn’t mean probable, and conspiracy theories are, in general, far less plausible and parsimonious than the ‘official’ explanation.

Although small-scale and mundane conspiracy theories do of course take place all the time - and are regularly exposed as such - there is little reason to suppose that the sort of large-scale and hugely elaborate conspiracy theories beloved by conspiracy theorists are actually happening around us. Certainly the burden of proof is on the conspiracy theorists to provide the extraordinary evidence for such extraordinary claims, as they are the ones challenging the accepted and (at least prima facie) evidentially supported view – but this is a burden they have singly failed to meet so far.

How cutting-edge physics supports Naturalism

Introduction

In this (quite technical) post I will consider some of novel theories of cutting-edge physics. I will discuss how, if they are true, they would support Naturalism, and then present some arguments in their favour. By naturalism I am referring specifically to metaphysical naturalism, as opposed to methodological naturalism. Metaphysical naturalism is a philosophical worldview that supposes that nature is all that exists, and that the supernatural is therefore non-existent (some versions of methodological naturalism are agnostic on the existence of the supernatural, but rules it not amenable to scientific investigation). By the supernatural, I mean pure or reductively uncaused mental entities[i]- which include such things as gods, spirits and the like. Furthermore, naturalism attempts to explain and account for all phenomena and values by strictly natural means, and supposes that nature is amenable to investigation by the natural sciences.
Now I will list and briefly describe some of the cutting-edge theories under discussion.

The theories

1. String Theory[1]

In theoretical physics, string theory is a mathematical theory which posits that the elementary particles are actually vibrations of tiny (Planck length, i.e. about 10^-33 cm) one-dimensional extended objects known as strings. These strings are posited to move in ten spacetime dimensions, in which the six unobserved dimensions (beyond the three of space and one of time) are rolled up into complex shapes (i.e. compactified).
String theory has now moved on to encompass a set of five related superstring theories (known as ‘super’ because they incorporate supersymmetry), and M-theory. This last theory unifies the five superstring theories as limits of a single 11-dimensional theory in which strings are really special cases of objects of various dimensions, collectively known as branes[2], moving in this 11-dimensional spacetime. 2-dimensional branes are known as 2-branes (or membranes) and, in general, p-dimensional branes are known as p-branes - where p is any whole number less than 10. According to M-theory, these branes may grow to be as large as the universe itself.
String/M-theory is so far the best candidate ‘grand unified theory’ (or GUT) that unifies the fundamental forces and particles, including gravitation. Prior to string theory, attempts to incorporate gravitation into a GUT had failed because a never-ending series of infinities plagued the equations, due to the mathematical nature of point particles. String theory also explains the features of the Standard Model, which couldn’t be explained prior to string theory. String theory posits that the electrons and quarks within an atom are not 0-dimensional objects, but 1-dimensional strings. These strings can move and vibrate, giving the observed particles their flavor, charge, mass and spin.


2. Supersymmetry[3]

In particle physics, supersymmetry is a symmetry that relates elementary particles of one spin to another particle that differs by half a unit of spin (known as superpartners).


3. Symmetry Breaking[4]

Symmetry breaking in physics describes a phenomenon whereby fluctuations acting on a system crossing a critical point decide a system’s fate, by determining which branch of a bifurcation is taken. Of particular relevance here is Spontaneous symmetry breaking[5], which describes the case where the laws are invariant but it appears the system isn’t because the background of the system, its vacuum, is non-invariant.


4. Quantum Fluctuations[6]

In quantum physics, a quantum fluctuation is the temporary change in the amount of energy in a point in space, arising from Werner Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle.


5. Cosmic Inflation[7]

In cosmology, cosmic inflation is the theory that, within the first second after the Big Bang, the nascent universe went through a phase of exponential expansion driven by a negative pressure vacuum energy density. During this inflationary phase the universe is proposed to have doubled in size every 10^-34 s, with the rapid inflation decaying away after 10^-32 s. As the scalar field slowly relaxed to the vacuum, the cosmological constant went to zero, and space began to expand as we see it in the observable universe.
Cosmic inflation explains why the universe appears flat, homogeneous and isotropic, and also explains the origin of the large-scale structure of the universe (with the magnification to cosmic size of quantum fluctuations in the original microscopic inflationary region acting as seeds for the galaxies, etc).


6. Eternal Inflation[8]

Eternal inflation is an inflationary universe model in which our universe is just one ‘bubble’ of expanding space among many (possibly an infinite number), and other big bangs occur throughout the wider superstructure. These bubbles, or pocket universes, emerge spontaneously from this eternal background space-time ‘foam’ due to quantum fluctuations, and then inflate exponentially. This inflation will tend to decay, as in the case of our universe, but will occasionally increase (as the strength of the inflation field will fluctuate randomly and spontaneously from place to place and time to time). Although in the minority, these regions of increasing inflation would dominate in terms of volume of space.
It is postulated that the particular characteristics (fundamental constants and physical laws) of each ‘universe’ freeze into place during the first moments of the universe’s existence due to spontaneous symmetry breaking (and are therefore probably random).


7. Multiverse[9]

The multiverse (or megaverse) is the hypothesised infinite assemblage of bubble or pocket universes produced by some universe-generating mechanism such as Eternal (or Chaotic) Inflation (another is Smolin’s fecund universes theory), of which our ‘universe’ is but one infinitesimal part. This multiverse is itself embedded in inflating space that exists without end. According to calculations based upon inflation theory, our observed universe would be embedded in a region that is approximately10^10,000,000,000 km across (by comparison, the observable universe is 10^23 km). Beyond the edge of our region, space would still be inflating by doubling in size every 10^-34 s, as other regions of space that are still in their inflationary phase (unlike ours) would dominate, so the gaps between the regions are growing much faster than are boundaries, meaning that the pocket universes won’t intersect. Some proponents of the multiverse argue that it has always existed (hence, ‘eternal’ inflation).

8. String Landscape[10]

In string theory, calculations show that there is a huge number of possible ways in which the additional unobserved dimensions may be compactified. Altogether probably an infinite number, but at least 10^500 variations may be cosmologically stable, producing metastable vacua.[ii]
Some scientists (e.g. Leonard Susskind, Andrei Linde, and Martin Rees) propose that each of these string theory solutions corresponds to a possible universe within an overall multiverse If this is true, then Eternal inflation would give a mechanism for populating all of the possible solutions within the string landscape. Each type of compactification would then produce a different universe consisting of the non-compactified dimensions. In these possible universes the fundamental physical constants, types and sizes of the forces and particles, the nature of the physical laws, and even the number of observable dimensions would vary (even though some variations might be tiny e.g. a variation in the 5th decimal place of the mass of the electron). Each of these corresponds to a solution in the string landscape and, due to the quantum mechanical nature of the universe-generating mechanism, the solution is hypothesized to be ‘chosen’ at random.
As I will explain later, this synthesis of the String Landscape and Eternal Inflation provides a possible solution to the so-called fine-tuning problem (it should be noted that Smolin selection and Eternal Inflation even without the string landscape may also do this).


How might these theories support Naturalism?

In this analysis I will focus upon the String Landscape and its synthesis with Eternal Inflation, and attempt to show how Naturalism would be supported if these theories are true. Henceforth, I will refer to the conjunction of these particular theories as SLEI.
One might intuit that the truth of SLEI would add weight to the case for Naturalism but, in this analysis I would like to put this intuition on a more rigorous footing. Therefore, I will make use of Bayes’ Theorem (but will not attempt to justify the use of the theorem itself, which has already been formally proven). This is a mathematical formula used for calculating conditional probabilities.[iii] It is particularly useful as a means of calculating posterior probabilities given a set of observations. The particular form of Bayes’ Theorem that I will use is the following:

P(h/e&b) = P(h/b) x P(e/h&b) / ([P(h/b) x P(e/h&b)] + [P(~h/b) x P(e/~h&b)])

Where:

h = the hypothesis under consideration (in this case, that Naturalism is true)
b = the entirety of our relevant background knowledge
e = the entire collection of evidence that is directly relevant to ‘h’
P(h/e&b) = the probability of h given e and b
P(h/b) = the probability of h given only b
P(e/h&b) = the probability of e given h and b
P(~h/b) = the probability of (not h) given only b [the complement of P(h/b) i.e. P(h/b) + P(~h/b) = 1]
P(e/~h&b) = the probability of e given (not h) and b [NB. independent of P(e/h&b)]

So, in this particular case, P(h/e&b) is the probability that naturalism is true given the entirety of our relevant background knowledge, and the entire collection of evidence directly relevant to this hypothesis. Now, I will not attempt to insert values for any of the terms in order to calculate P(h/e&b) directly. Rather, I will instead demonstrate that the truth of SLEI would increase the value of P(h/e&b) – whatever its actual value is – by determining what would happen to the value of P(h/e&b) if we vary some of the other terms in the equation accordingly.
I will now look at each of the terms in Bayes’ theorem for the hypothesis that naturalism is true, and evaluate how the truth of these theories would affect them.

1. Prior Probability

Firstly, P(h/b). In our case, it is the probability that naturalism is true given the entirety of our relevant background knowledge, and before we examine any specific evidence for the truth or otherwise of naturalism – also known as the prior probability that naturalism is true. Now, every cause that has ever been investigated and established by a reliable, truth-finding method (e.g. science) has turned out to be a purely natural one. Moreover, such reliable methods could establish that a supernatural cause exists, if such a cause does in fact exist, and is open to investigation. However, not once have such reliable methods ever shown a cause to be supernatural. So we have:

[A1]

P1: If reliable methods have only ever proven natural causes to exist in our world, then probably every cause in our world is natural.
P2: Reliable methods have only ever proven natural causes to exist in our world.
C: Therefore, probably every cause in our world is natural.

As this is an inductive argument, it does not establish the certainty that there exist only natural causes in the world. Rather, it makes it merely probable. Hence, P(h/b) is high – certainly higher than 0.5 (in order for it be considered probable). It follows that its complement, P(~h/b) [the probability that not naturalism (but supernaturalism) is true given the entirety of our relevant background knowledge] is necessarily low – certainly lower than 0.5.
Now, for the purposes of this analysis I will decide to bracket the non-overlapping sets e and b such that SLEI (if true) is part of the set b and not part of the set e. That is, I will consider that SLEI is a subset of our background knowledge, rather than being a subset of the evidence that is directly relevant to h. This would have the following effect upon the terms within Bayes’ Theorem:

P(h/b) will be higher. One reason for this is that the argument [A1] above is given greater weight, because a reliable method (i.e. science) would have shown even more causes in the world to be natural. Moreover, these causes are particularly important ones, as they explain how our universe came into existence, with its particular physical properties, including microscopic ones.
Another reason why P(h/b) would be higher is that the truth of SLEI would defeat some potential defeaters for h. For example, it would falsify the fine-tuning (or anthropic) argument for the existence of God (of the standard Judeo-Christian variety). According to this argument, the mere fact that the universe allows life to exist in the first place is evidence of intelligent design. For instance, for life as we know it to evolve, it is supposed that there must be an unlikely combination of just the right initial conditions and just the right values of the fundamental physical constants (so-called anthropic coincidences). According to the argument, if any one of the values of up to 26 dimensionless fundamental physical constants[11] from the Standard Model wasn’t extremely close to the actual value we find, then life would not be possible in our universe. Martin Rees reduces this to just 6 dimensionless constants whose values he deems fundamental to present day physical-theory and the known structure of the universe[12].

In either case, the apparent extreme unlikelihood of the universe forming by chance with just the right conditions to allow life is presented as evidence that those conditions were actually set by an intelligent designer in order to produce life. This cosmic intelligence is usually supposed to be God, although it should be noted that the argument doesn’t lead to the designer being any particular god, or even a god at all. It might instead be a team of gods, some other demiurge, a highly advanced universe-creating alien, or any of an infinite number of other possibilities. More formally, we have:

[A2]

P1: If the probability is small enough that our universe is life-bearing by chance alone, then it is more probable that our universe was intelligently designed to be life-bearing.
P2: The probability is small enough that our universe is life-bearing by chance alone
C: It is more probable that our universe is intelligently designed to be life-bearing.
Corollary: The intelligent designer in question is God.

Now, there are a couple of points that should be mentioned with regard to this argument. Firstly, in order to apply the argument in practice, some probability threshold would need to be determined below which we could agree that it is more likely that our universe is intelligently designed to be life-bearing, rather than being so by chance alone. One possible candidate for this threshold might be the Dembski threshold of 1 in 10^150[13]. Although the choice of threshold is moot, unless design can be shown to be impossible (and we should note that science hasn’t ruled out the possibility that our universe was designed by aliens[14], for example), then there must be some threshold below which it becomes more probable that our universe was designed to be life-bearing.

Secondly, with regard to P2, it has not been proven that the fundamental physical constants are in fact so improbably ‘fine-tuned’, or that they needed to be so for our universe to be life-bearing. It may be that there are really only one or two truly fundamental physical constants, and/or the values that these constants could take are constrained to a small set of possibilities. In that case, the total number of possible universes would be relatively small, with at least one of these possibilities being life-bearing (ours). Whether this is or is not the case, we may find that some sort of life would still have been possible in the universe even if the fundamental physical constants were significantly different to those that we find. Victor Stenger has argued along these lines[15].

However, even if we were to accept that our universe is indeed precisely and improbably fine-tuned for life, then we still need not invoke design as the explanation. If SLEI is true, the existence of a multiverse in which all possible combinations of fundamental physical constants (as well as forces, mathematical laws, etc.) will eventuate in some universe or other as part of the string landscape, means that it is guaranteed that a life-bearing universe will come to exist by chance alone (possibly an infinite number of times). This is because every possible solution from the string landscape will come to exist (if the selection is random, as, due to its quantum mechanical nature, it is proposed to be), and our universe is a possible solution within the string landscape that leads to a life-bearing universe. Thus P2 would be false, and the argument [A2] would fail.

One further point worth mentioning is that even if our universe is all that exists (i.e. there is no multiverse), and it is fine-tuned for life, we still cannot legitimately infer a supernatural source. In fact, as Michael Ikeda and Bill Jefferys showed[16], the fine-tuning would actually count against a supernatural origin for our universe. The argument that if a universe fine-tuned for life is improbable on naturalism, then the fact we find ourselves in a fine-tuned universe implies that naturalism is improbable is a confusion of two different types of conditional probabilities. In particular, the fact that an outcome is highly improbable does not imply that the hypothesis that generates that outcome is itself improbable. You need to actually compare the probabilities of obtaining the observed outcome under all hypotheses, and look for the ones that are more probable. Whilst naturalism may still turn out to be improbable on fine-tuning, it may actually be the most probable hypothesis – certainly far more probable than supernaturalism of the standard Christian variety (which is rendered improbable because we would expect God to sustain life without any need for the universe itself to be fine-tuned for life). Secondly, we must do the calculations based upon the evidence that we actually have. This includes the fact that we know our universe contains life, so the possibility of a naturalistic universe with no life is purely hypothetical.

As an aside, this is a particularly egregious example of a corollary that doesn’t follow necessarily or even probably from the conclusion, but which is often tacitly assumed to by Christian proponents of the argument. At the very least it is supposed by them to do a lot of work towards establishing the existence of God, which I think it manifestly fails to do, as getting from the existence of some inscrutable designer to God is actually the hard bit, as the claim for a supernatural designer with all sorts of the amazing and specific powers of God is a much more extraordinary one and thus requires much more extraordinary evidence. This is analogous to Christians thinking that if they can show that certain people or places mentioned in the story of the resurrection of Jesus actually existed, then this does a lot of work toward establishing that the Resurrection actually happened. However, again it is the leap to the supernatural that is the giant and extraordinary leap, and establishing some other mundane historical details in the Bible does virtually nothing to help bridge that gap. For example, if I tell you that I have a friend called John who can levitate at will, then just showing my friend John to you (not levitating) does nothing to prove that John can actually levitate. The mere existence of a friend called John is not at all extraordinary or contentious. The levitation part of my claim is the part that is contentious, and that requires the robust supporting evidence.

Another possible defeater for h is the Cosmological Argument i.e.

[A3]

P1: Everything that begins to exist has a cause
P2: The universe began to exist
C: Therefore, the universe has a cause
Corollary: This cause is God

This is another example of a corollary that doesn’t follow from the conclusion. Moreover, if SLEI is true, then the universe in question would just be our particular universe (as just one part of the multiverse) and the cause in question would be some quantum mechanical universe-generating mechanism. Hence, there would indeed be a cause, but it would be a completely natural one, and the corollary would be falsified. And if we have a multiverse that is eternal (as part of SLEI), then P2 would be false, and the conclusion would not follow (and P1 may be false anyway, even if the multiverse is not eternal, as all we know is that everything we have observed to begin within our universe has a cause, which doesn’t necessarily mean that this concept is meaningful when talking about the beginning of the multiverse as a whole).
Of course, if SLEI is true, we may still be left with no explanation for why the multiverse exists at all, or where the quantum mechanical universe-generating mechanism came from, or why string/M-theory and its universe generating mechanism are as they are. In such a case, we may just have to take this as a brute fact—something that exists necessarily and has no explanation. This is no worse than the God explanation though, where God is taken as the brute fact, and is actually far more plausible and parsimonious.

Since there remains no sound or valid argument for design, P(~h/b) will be lower than P(h/b). This follows from P(h/b) being higher, as P(~h/b) is its complement. In this analysis, P(e/h&b) and P(e/~h&b) will remain unchanged, as I have bracketed b and e such that SLEI (if true) would be part of the set b and not part of the set e.
Now, let’s go back to our formulation of Bayes’ Theorem and determine what effects this will have on the probability that naturalism is true given the entirety of our background knowledge and evidence directly relevant to this i.e.

P(h/e&b) = P(h/b) x P(e/h&b) / ([P(h/b) x P(e/h&b)] + [P(~h/b) x P(e/~h&b)])

I won’t derive this in general, but will instead substitute some sample (and very rough) values into the equation. So, just for the sake of argument, assume that without Greene’s novel theories:

P(h/b) = 0.95
P(~h/b) = 0.05
P(e/h&b) = 0.9
P(e/~h&b) = 0.3

So:


P(h/e&b) = 0.95 x 0.9 / [(0.95 x 0.9) + (0.05 x 0.3)]
= 0.855 / [0.855 + 0.015]
= 0.983 (3dp)

If that were the case, then with Greene’s novel theories, something like the following would result:

P(h/b) = 0.99 [i.e. higher than it was before]
P(~h/b) = 0.01
P(e/h&b) = 0.9
P(e/~h&b) = 0.3

So:

P(h/e&b) = 0.99 x 0.9 / [(0.99 x 0.9) + (0.01 x 0.3)]
= 0.891 / [0.891 + 0.003]
= 0.997 (3dp)

Hence, with these particular values, the truth of SLEI would increase the probability that naturalism is true given the entirety of our background knowledge and evidence directly relevant to this. This is what we would intuitively expect, and is what I was trying to establish, but I won't derive it in general. However, it is at least plausible this is true generally.
This analysis might be repeated by bracketing the non-overlapping sets e and b such that SLEI (if true) are part of the set e and not part of the set b (or even part in b and part in e, if that could be done). I have not done this, but I would expect the results to be similar.

What arguments could be advanced now that those theories are more probably than not true?

Some physicists believe that these cutting-edge theories are more probably than not true because they are powerful and elegant. String/M-theory, for example, combines quantum mechanics and general relativity into a quantum theory of gravitation, and can also incorporate the standard model of particle physics. As such, it is a good candidate for a theory of everything. I think that there is something in this intuition, as the concepts of power and elegance or beauty (as physicists and mathematicians use it) actually encapsulates the idea of explaining a great deal of data with a relatively small set of assumptions.
However, to put this on a firmer footing, I would suggest that the theories are more probably true than not for the following reasons:

1. They are plausible. That is, they follow from and don’t contradict known facts and other good theories of how the universe is. String theory, for example, is quantum mechanical, Lorentz invariant, unitary, contains Einstein’s General Relativity as a low energy limit, and can incorporate the standard model of particle physics. Eternal inflation follows from the theory of cosmic inflation, quantum fluctuations, and symmetry breaking.
2. They are parsimonious. That is, they don’t require us to make up too much out of whole cloth, i.e. there are few completely ad hoc assumptions. Postulating the existence of strings or branes themselves is ad hoc, as is the assumption of additional compacted dimensions, but not much else needs be made up (as opposed to the God theory, which requires masses of ad hoc elements, including the existence of a supernatural God, with all sorts of characteristics and desires, the most powerful mind possible, and all sorts of manoeuvrings to explain away the lack of fit of prediction and evidence). Eternal inflation requires few ad hoc elements, and none is physically implausible.
3. They have good explanatory scope. That is, they predict many facts about the universe that we actually find to be true (and have not made any predictions that have so far been proven to be false). Eternal inflation explains the size, age, evolution, and macroscopic and microscopic structure of the universe, and its apparent fine-tuning for life. By contrast, God exists doesn’t really predict much about the universe; and what you might expect it to predict is not actually found when we look at the evidence.
4. They have good explanatory power. That is, they make the facts that they predict highly probable.

From the scientific point of view, testing predictions that could falsify these theories or otherwise is very difficult, as the energies required to test string theory are huge (but may well be available to us in the future), and finding any direct evidence of other universes in the multiverse is likely to be impossible.

However, there might be indirect ways of testing them. For example, there is some suggestion that one or more of the fundamental constants may have changed during the evolution of our universe[17]. If the fundamental constants can change over time in our own universe, then they are clearly not fundamentally invariant. Since this is a requirement for Eternal inflation, amongst other multiverse theories, then this offers some support to these theories. Another type of indirect support for SLEI is that, if the fundamental constants and other fundamental properties of our universe (e.g. forces, particles, physical laws) are a random selection from what is possible, then we would expect our universe to be only just barely life-bearing, rather than strongly so. An analogy would be a lottery in which only 3 correct balls from 6 are required in order to win a prize. If we pick a random winner, then we would expect them to have only just won a prize (i.e. to have 3 or possibly 4 correct balls), rather than getting all 6 balls correct. When we look at the values of the fundamental constants and other things (such as dark energy) in our universe, it does indeed appear to be the case that the universe is no more bio-friendly than it needs to be.
So, overall, we may have some indirect evidence that SLEI is correct. In addition to this, SLEI also satisfies the criteria usually taken for being a good explanation (plausibility, parsimony, explanatory scope and power).



[1] See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/String_theory

[2] See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brane

[3] See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Supersymmetry

[4] See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symmetry_breaking

[5] See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spontaneous_symmetry_breaking

[6] See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quantum_fluctuation

[7] See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cosmic_inflation

[8] See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eternal_inflation

[9] See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Multiverse

[10] See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/String_landscape

[11] See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dimensionless_physical_constant#The_Standard_Model

[12] See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dimensionless_physical_constant#Martin_Rees.27s_Six_Numbers

[13] See, for example: http://richardcarrier.blogspot.com/2009/05/statistics-biogenesis_01.html

[14] See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fine-tuned_Universe#Alien_design

[15] See: http://www.colorado.edu/philosophy/vstenger/Cosmo/FineTune.pdf#search=%22Fine%20tuned%20universe%22

[16] See: http://bayesrules.net/anthropic.html

[17] See, for example: http://arxiv.org/abs/0810.1356

[i] As per Carrier’s definition in “Defending Naturalism as a Worldview: A Rebuttal to Michael Rea’s World Without Design” (The Secular Web: 2003), www.infidels.org/library/modern/richard_carrier/rea.shtml.
[ii] As calculated in Raphael Bousso & Joseph Polchinski, “Quantization of Four-form Fluxes and Dynamical Neutralization of the Cosmological Constant,” High Energy Physics (Theory) 18 Apr 2000, http://arxiv.org/abs/hep-th/0004134v3; and Michael R. Douglas, “Basic results in Vacuum Statistics,” High Energy Physics (Theory) 20 Sep 2004, http://arxiv.org/abs/hep-th/0409207.
[iii] See http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/bayes-theorem/.

The Sye delusion

There has been a great deal of debate on Stephen Law’s blog recently. A presuppositional apologist called Sye Tenb has a website that claims to offer a proof for God’s existence. Stephen’s comments on this ‘proof’ opened the floodgates, and the ensuing battle that raged between Sye and his critics ran to 254 comments, and has since spawned numerous additional posts from Stephen. In this post I will briefly explain why I think Sye has failed to make his case.


Sye’s unsound argument

In a nutshell, Sye’s argument is as follows:

P1: The existence of logic presupposes the existence of the Christian God.
P2: Logic exists.
C: Therefore, the Christian God exists.

This is a valid deductive argument, but it will only be sound if both premises are actually true i.e. we agree to accept that they are self-evidently true, or else they are the conclusion of some other sound logical argument. Of course, both of these possibilities can be contentious, for what are we justified in taking as self-evidently true, and where do we finally stop in our chain of justifications if each premise is the conclusion from some other argument? Ultimately, it turns on the concept of properly basic beliefs (beliefs that require no further justification), as this is where the buck finally stops if you do not believe that there is an infinite chain of justifications, or that we can have circular justifications. However, Sye has not provided a sound argument (or series of arguments) to justify his P1. Nor has he asserted, much less attempted to justify (which would be impossible to do anyway, in my view), that his P1 is a properly basic belief. Therefore, I will accept that P2 is true, but as P1 is not self-evidently true, and is not justified as the conclusion of a further deductive argument, I will not accept it. Hence, I conclude that his argument is unsound as it stands.

Sye has not admitted that his argument is unsound, as he doesn't seem to think that his P1 is in need of any further justification, although he never explains why this should be the case. Perhaps he doesn't understand the structure of a deductive argument (a conclusion that is logically entailed by a set of premises), or perhaps he thinks that his P1 is a properly basic belief? Anyway, along the way, he has informally presented a number of subsidiary arguments, so I will look at these next.


Sye’s attempts to rescue his unsound argument

Sye has tried a number of approaches to rescue his unsound argument, but each fails. Here are some of his attempts:

Sye attempts to justify P1 from the above argument with the following argument:

P1: Logic cannot be accounted for on any atheist worldview
P2: Sye’s Christian worldview is not an atheist worldview
C: Therefore, logic can only be accounted for on Sye’s Christian worldview

However, this argument is even worse than his original one. Firstly, his new P1 is also not self-evidently true, and is left unjustified – so the argument is not sound. Secondly, even if we grant his new P1 (which we don’t), his argument is not even valid, as it is a false dichotomy. At best, all that it could ever prove is that logic can only be accounted for on some non-atheistic (i.e. theistic) worldview – not necessarily the one that Sye subscribes to. It could just as easily be one in which God is omni-malevolent, or entirely uninterested in humanity, or one that posits a multitude of gods.

Sye has also tried the following argument:

P1: If nobody has yet proven that logic can be accounted for on any atheist worldview, then logic cannot be accounted for on any atheist worldview.
P2: Nobody has yet proven that logic can be accounted for on any atheist worldview
C: Therefore, logic cannot be accounted for on any atheist worldview.

Whilst formally valid, this is a clear example of a logical fallacy: argument from ignorance. Firstly, the people commenting on Stephen’s blog form a very small subset of humanity, so their inability to ‘prove’ this cannot be taken to entail that ‘nobody’ can produce such a proof. Secondly, it is possible that one of more of the people on Stephen’s blog can actually provide such a proof, but they have so far chosen not to do so. Thirdly, even if nobody in the whole world can produce such a proof, or will ever be able to produce such a proof (an assumption that we are not justified in making), the first premise is still false as it stands, as our inability to prove a proposition does not render it false. The first premise would only be true if we presuppose that at least one of Stephen or his commenters is omniscient, and that they would have provided such a proof if they knew it. This assumption is unjustified.

Another variation on the same theme is this attempt from Sye:

P1: If Sye’s Christian worldview is correct then the laws of logic will exist
P2: The laws of logic exist
C: Therefore, Sye’s Christian worldview is correct

However, this argument is an example of a formal fallacy known as affirming the consequent. Even if God’s existence entails that the laws of logic will exist, the converse is not true unless we can show that the laws of logic can exist only if God exists (in which case P1 would become: If and only if God exists then the laws of logic will exist). However, this is not self-evidently true, and Sye has not justified it, so the argument is unsound as it stands.

Sye tried a different approach with this next argument:

P1: People who do not believe that logic can only be accounted for on Sye’s worldview are not entitled to use logic to construct their own arguments
P2: Stephen and some of his commenters do not believe that logic can only be accounted for on Sye’s worldview
C: Therefore, Stephen and some of his commenters are not entitled to use logic to construct their own arguments

However, P1 is not self-evidently true, and Sye offers no good justification for it, so the argument is unsound as it stands.

There is a general theme that runs through Sye’s arguments: his worldview accounts for logic (due to God), so his worldview should be taken as being true unless we can produce a better alternative. However, in general, this is a bad way to argue. Even if we were to grant that it really is the case that there is only one known explanation for some observation (and it is not instead that the arguer is just ignorant of the alternative explanations - as with Sye), then we are still unable to say whether this explanation is a good or bad one without doing some more work. That it is the only explanation doesn’t in any way entail that it is not a bad explanation. Julian Baggini wrote an article about this point.

In fact, Sye's assertion is even stronger than just taking his worldview to be true by default. He asserts that it is actually impossible for any other worldview to account for logic. Moreover, he believes that the onus is upon those who disagree this claim to prove him wrong by proving that their worldview can account for logic, rather than upon him to substantiate his impossibility claim. However, it is clear to all other than Sye and his ilk that the burden of proof rests upon those who make the claim - particularly if this claim disagrees with the consensus view, and even more especially if this claim is contrary to a vast amount of evidence about how the universe actually works. In this case, by asserting that it is impossible for logic to exist without the existence of some supernatural agency (when we have no good evidence that the supernatural exists at all), then Sye has his work cut out. For a good discussion on the burden of proof, see this.

In fact, for a variety of reasons, I would suggest that Sye’s ‘God explanation’ is a very bad explanation – and should therefore be rejected, even if we have no alternative explanation to hand (which isn’t actually the case). In order to validate his theory, what Sye is doing is focusing on one apparently confirmed prediction made by his God theory - that logic exists - and ignoring all of the other failed predictions. Moreover, as we already know about the existence of logic, it looks suspiciously as if God has just been defined in such a way that logic is entailed – as opposed to actually predicting it and finding this prediction met. In any case, if we are really seeking the truth, rather than just indulging in self-delusion, then we cannot focus solely on successful predictions from our theory, and ignore the failures. What Sye should instead be doing is looking to see if his theory can survive his and our best attempts to falsify it. Moreover, to be properly falsifiable, his theory should make clear, unambiguous, and bold statements that can be compared empirically against reality. If his theory’s predictions are vague and equivocal, then it will be difficult to falsify, since it is not clear what would constitute a failed prediction. Equally, if his theory merely predicts things that we already know to be true (such as the existence of logic), then we have no good reason to favour his theory over any other that merely predicts the same observations.

In fact, I would argue that the God theory (based upon the core Christian beliefs) is a bad one, as it is implausible, lacks parsimony, and has little explanatory scope or power. In order to explain the existence of the physical universe, it posits some unseen and inscrutable supernatural realm ruled by a universe-creating superbeing. Since we have no independent proof that anything other than the physical universe actually exists, this makes the theory inherently implausible. As such, its extraordinary claims require a correspondingly high standard of supporting evidence. Do we have such evidence? Theists will typically resort to the evidence in the Bible, to what their religious leaders (or other people) tell them, or to their own perception of religious experience.

Firstly, the Bible. In general, I would contend that forming empirical beliefs about the world based upon statements contained in ancient historical documents is liable to be unreliable. Due to the many known examples of misplaced credulity, exaggeration, and fabrication in historical documents, and to the lack of knowledge of the world possessed by people in these ancient times, we must be very careful about granting too much credence to the contents of these documents. Descriptions of events are always questionable unless they can be corroborated by relevantly similar descriptions in other sources – preferably those already known to be reliable. Additionally, in the case of contentious elements (miracles and suchlike), we need to consider whether it is more likely that the events or things described actually happened, or that (as a minimum) the supernatural elements of such descriptions are false. In the particular case of the Bible, we have a number of serious problems:

1) We have accounts that were written many years after the events themselves were supposed to have happened
2) We have inconsistent and contradictory descriptions of the same events
3) We have little or no corroboration in any other sources
4) We have methods that are known to introduce unreliability - word of mouth, geographically dispersed multiple authors, editing and compilation that is arbitrary or that has an agenda, elements that were revealed in dreams etc.
5) On top of all of this, we have a number of extraordinary metaphysical claims about supernatural entities (including God) and events. Some of these claims are in opposition to our current reliably formed knowledge about how the universe actually works.

In light of this, I would argue that the Bible clearly does not constitute the necessary extraordinary evidence for the extraordinary metaphysical claims made about the existence of God and a supernatural realm.

Appeal to religious leaders or other people fares no better than appeal to the Bible as a source of the requisite extraordinary evidence. The first problem when it comes to relying on such testimony is that the set of statements made by such people is partially or wholly contradictory, so choosing to believe any particular statement or set of statements on this basis alone would seem to be purely arbitrary. Generally, we can accord some measure of reliability to testimony if the statements come from someone who has demonstrated that they are an expert on the topic concerned. However, in the case of religious leaders, the statements are usually vague metaphysical ones that offer no means by which their truth or falsity may be determined. We have no independent yardstick against which to judge the reliability or otherwise of their metaphysical statements, so no determination can be made. Hence, we have no good reason to judge this as a reliable truth generating mechanism, and plenty of other reasons to judge it otherwise (some statements contradict reliably formed knowledge, and many statements are in contradiction with each other etc.). So, this also fails to meet the necessary high standard of evidence.

How about people’s religious experience – does this provide the necessary evidence? I would argue that the simple answer is no. Firstly, any divine messages and revelations that people claim to have received by such means are culture-specific, inconsistent and contradictory. Secondly, any such messages seem to consist of nothing more than banalities or vague and unverifiable metaphysical notions. No new and verifiable scientific or mathematical knowledge is ever produced, for example. Thirdly, we are aware of many more plausible and more mundane alternative explanations for such feelings of the transcendental – dreams, hallucinations, power of suggestion, psychotic episodes, delusions etc. Are we justified in taking such experiences at face value (as basic beliefs), in the same way that I would do when I perceive an object in front of my eyes? No, as the difference between the two cases is that we have no evidence that religious experiences reliably generate true belief, whereas we have lots of mutually-reinforcing evidence of the reliability (most of the time) of our senses. Furthermore, as the beliefs acquired through religious experiences are often contradictory, we know that some or all of them must be wrong. Hence, it is clearly an unreliable mechanism for generating true belief, and can be discounted as a way of acquiring the necessary extraordinary evidence for God’s existence.

What’s more, even if we were to grant some supernatural communication (which we have no good reason to do), neither we nor those communicated with have any way to establish that the message comes from God – as opposed to it being a deception from some evil demon, for example. Even God, if it exists, would have no way to determine if it was actually being deceived by some evil demon into thinking that it is the creator and ruler of the universe (since, if it is being deceived in this way, then it is not actually omniscient and omnipotent at all – this is merely part of the deception).

Attempts have been made to prove the existence of God by analytic means alone – for example, the Ontological Argument. However, this argument is open to a number of objections, and few philosophers are convinced of its soundness. Theists might also resort to one or other of the cosmological or teleological arguments for God’s existence. However, all of these arguments have been convincingly rebutted, and most can anyway only argue for some inscrutable universe-creating entity as opposed to the specific Judeo-Christian God.

So, in conclusion, there is no good evidence, much less extraordinary evidence, that God and his supernatural realm exist at all.

Furthermore, when we examine the predictions that the God theory makes, we find that it predicts a very different universe from the one that we find ourselves in. We would expect it to be far smaller, more congenial to our type of life, contain far less suffering, and contain clear and unambiguous evidence of God’s existence. What we actually find is that the universe is very old, very big, almost entirely lethal to our type of life, and that life evolved by some meandering and haphazard process. Why? Moreover, why does God need a universe at all? Surely we should all be in Heaven (or Hell) already, as an omniscient God must know how we will choose to act (even if we were to grant the existence of free will).

What's more, our world contains far more suffering (both natural and man-made, ours and that of other animals) than is reconcilable with the concept of an omnipotent, omniscient, and omnibenevolent God. Why would God create a world containing so much suffering, when he surely had an infinite number of other possible ways that he could do it? And, if he did knowingly create the universe this way, is he not morally responsible for all of this suffering?

In addition, why would God’s existence be unknown to billions of people who have lived, or are alive today? Why wait until the last few thousand years, and then only reveal it to a handful of people in Palestine? If we need to believe in God’s existence in order to enter Heaven, as many Christians believe, then God has knowingly consigned billions of people to eternal suffering (or, at best, they will not enter Heaven). Why?

Yes, the theory can be patched up by the introduction of a plethora of entirely ad-hoc elements (e.g. necessity of human free will, benefits of suffering, God’s mysterious plan etc.). However, by such means we could justify any theory. To proceed this way is intellectually dishonest, as it renders the theory unfalsifiable. Whatever criticism is levelled at the theory, the theist will just introduce some additional ad-hoc element to explain it away. Therefore, Ockham’s razor would rule against such a theory in favour of some more plausible and parsimonious natural explanation for the world. For much more on this, I would recommend the following essay (which Sye, in particular, would do well to read and ponder).


Conclusion

Anyway, back to Sye’s original ‘laws of logic’ argument. At several points in the discussions, he gives the game away by saying that he knows that God exists, as he has had an ‘objective revelation’. So, it seems that even he isn’t really convinced by his own argument (as well he shouldn’t be), or else he would not need to justify his belief in God by reference to this ‘objective revelation’. What this ‘objective revelation’ is he never explains. Until he is prepared to spell it out in detail, I cannot evaluate it one way or the other, so I will ignore it.

Sye has repeatedly asked for an explanation of how the laws of logic can exist on an atheist worldview. As I have explained, the absence of such an explanation in no way helps Sye’s case. Nevertheless, I will point him in the right direction with the links below. In the meantime, he needs to answer the following question – which he has repeatedly and conspicuously failed to do. Until he does, then his arguments amount to nothing.

Sye: Please demonstrate, by means of a sound logical argument, that logic can only be accounted for in your worldview.


http://www.infidels.org/library/modern/michael_martin/logic.html

http://www.infidels.org/library/modern/michael_martin/induction.html

http://www.infidels.org/library/modern/richard_carrier/reppert.html

Free will and punishment

Do we deserve to be punished when we break the law? Many people would say yes, and there is some philosophical justification for this view. Kant, for example, argued for a retributivist theory of punishment. He reasoned that people in general are rational agents who choose their own actions, and should therefore be held morally responsible for them. With reference to the first formulation of his moral imperative, Kant argued that, by acting badly, criminals bring the punishment upon themselves – since by punishing them we are acting towards them as they are acting towards others. Moreover, he took this one stage further, by suggesting that the severity and type of punishment should fit the crime (the Biblical lex talons). For this reason, he argued that capital punishment was justified for (at least some) cases of murder. Kant felt that the sole justification for punishment was that somebody had behaved criminally. Whilst he accepted the utilitarian arguments that punishing people might increase overall societal happiness, deter other would be criminals, and possibly help to rehabilitate existing criminals, he nevertheless believed that these reasons could never be used as the justification for punishment. At best, they would be merely positive by-products of punishment. To do otherwise, he reasoned, would be to treat people as means to an end, rather than as ends in themselves (i.e. punishing the criminal would be the means to achieve the end of deterring other would be criminals, and punishing criminals would be the means to achieve the end of improving overall societal happiness). Kant argued that we should never do this.

However, Kant’s concept of retributive punishment presupposes that those being punished are rational agents who are able to freely choose their actions and make their own decisions, and are thus morally responsible for them. For this reason, Kant held that animals, babies, or the severely mentally impaired shouldn’t be punished for their actions. But, are we responsible for our actions in the way that Kant’s theory of retributive justice requires? Do we freely choose our actions? Could we have chosen otherwise? In other words, do we have free will? If not, then this theory of retributivist punishment does not apply to us, as it is unreasonable to hold people morally responsible for the consequences of actions that they were constrained to make. For example, if I was forcibly pushed out of a window, and landed on a pedestrian, then I could hardly be held morally responsible for any injury I caused them, as it was out of my control. Whether we are able to morally justify retributive punishment or not has clear implications for the way that we judge and punish criminals. As the possession of free will seems to be essential to assigning moral responsibility for actions, I will examine it in some detail.

Intuitively it does seem that we do (in general) possess free will, are rational agents, and should therefore be held morally responsible for our actions and decisions (on Kant’s theory). However, the existence or otherwise of free will is open to a great deal of metaphysical debate, and this calls into question our moral responsibility. This metaphysical debate first splits into those who accept determinism and those who don’t. Determinism is the theory that, given the state of the physical universe at any specific time, together with the laws of nature, the state of the physical universe at any other time (in the future or in the past) is uniquely determined. In particular, if we assume that our cognitive activity is entirely dependent upon physical processes within our physical brains (I will consider alternatives later), then our future cognitive activity (which governs our future decisions, actions etc.) is already uniquely determined by the state of the universe now, together with the laws of nature. So, on determinism, free will seems to be an illusion, as every one of my future decisions and actions is already uniquely determined. But, is determinism true?

According to classical theories of physics (e.g. Newtonian dynamics), the universe is, in principle, perfectly deterministic. However, on the subatomic level, there is some debate as to whether quantum events are deterministic or not. If indeterminacy is inherent in quantum events, as current theories suggest, then this would clearly rule out determinism (although, it should be noted that the effect of a certain amount of quantum indeterminacy might be limited at the macro level). However, it could be that events at the subatomic level are actually perfectly deterministic, but that the provisional nature of our current quantum mechanical theories doesn’t allow us to determine this. Nevertheless, even if there is some indeterminacy inherent in the quantum world, this might be irrelevant as far as moral responsibility is concerned – as we shall see a little later. So, determinism is at least a plausible theory that has some evidential support. Perhaps it is the argument to the best explanation.

Note that fatalism is not the same as determinism, and is not entailed by it. Determinism does not say that the future will be the same whatever course of action we choose, in the way that fatalism does. Rather, it says that there is only one possible future, and all of our future actions are already determined by the current state of the universe together with the laws of nature.

Those who reject determinism are known as libertarians. Some libertarians have supernatural beliefs that cause them to reject determinism, and others not. In the former camp are those who believe that we possess a non-physical mind or soul that somehow enters into the causal chain in the physical world leading to physical actions. According to supernatural libertarian theories, whilst the physical universe might be deterministic, the non-physical mind or soul can override the physical and allow us to retain free will. However, the proponents of this theory have yet to give any satisfactory explanation as to how a non-physical entity can have a causal effect upon a physical one (e.g. the physical brain). They have yet to produce any good empirical evidence that such non-physical objects actually do cause such effects (even if we don’t know how they do it). Moreover, they have yet to produce any good empirical evidence or compelling arguments that such non-physical entities exist at all. Thus, such theories lack plausibility, have little evidential scope and power, and require the positing of various ad-hoc entities and mechanisms. We could invent an infinity of such theories, and have no reliable way to discriminate between them in terms of likely truth. This is a very unreliable way of getting at the truth.

In the latter camp are those libertarians who reject determinism for naturalistic reasons e.g. by appeal to quantum indeterminacy to create some ‘elbow-room’ for free will. Whilst such theories at least have the benefit of plausibility, they would appear to achieve nothing more than allowing that some events in the brain are random (due to the random nature of some quantum events). However, this wouldn’t give us genuine free will. One could no more be held morally responsible for the consequences of random events in the brain than for the results of actions constrained by a lack of free will. So, whilst some of these non-supernatural libertarian theories are feasible, it is not at all clear how they can entail the free will that is necessary for moral responsibility.

Amongst the determinists, there are those that believe that determinism is incompatible with free will, and those who believe that the two are actually compatible (i.e. not mutually exclusive). The former are known as hard determinists, and the latter as compatibilists. The compatibilist argues that we retain free will so long as we are not actually forced to make a particular choice (by having a gun to one’s head, for example). They further argue that possession of free will under this definition entails moral responsibility. Hard determinists argue that compatibilists are wrong to base their definition of free will upon the everyday usage, rather than on causal necessity, in order to give them a basis for moral responsibility. They argue that we might feel that we have free will, but that determinism entails that this is an illusion. The hard determinist also notes that only certain constraints would remove free will in the sense that the compatibilist employs it. Being physically restrained or hypnotised might do it, but having a gun to one’s head would not, since one can still freely make the choice to be shot.

More importantly, the hard determinist would argue, why does the compatibilist think that certain causes are compatible with free will (determining ones), and others not (constraining ones)? Is this distinction not arbitrary? For example, imagine that someone is hypnotised to always choose a particular flavour of ice cream over others, but is unaware that they are hypnotised (this example is based upon one given by Stephen Law). As far as they are concerned, they are always freely choosing chocolate rather than anything else but, in reality, they are under the control of the hypnotist. The compatibilist would probably agree that this person no longer has free will, as they cannot make any other choice but chocolate (or whatever). But, what is the relevant difference between this situation and the one under determinism? In both cases the choice is constrained, as no other choice is actually possible, but the person still has an illusion of free will. Moreover, the onus is on the compatibilist to explain why we retain moral responsibility under one type of constraint (the deterministic type), but not under another (the everyday sort). Why should a person be morally responsible for an action that they were powerless to avoid?

For example, on determinism, it might be an absolute certainty (from the state of the universe now, together with the laws of nature) that a particular person will be born tomorrow, and that this person will go on to commit a murder thirty years later. This future is the only one possible. However, as this future is uniquely determined already, how can we be justified in eventually holding this person morally responsible for this action, even though it is something that they cannot avoid doing (any more than we can hold morally responsible the person who is pushed out of a window and lands on a pedestrian)? We can further motivate this concept by comparing it with the past – which is similarly invariant on determinism. Imagine it is a fact that somebody committed a murder yesterday. Further imagine that we can time-travel into the past to witness this murder. Would we say at the moment of committing the act of murder that the person involved has the free will to choose not to do it – despite the fact that we know that the murder will be committed (as we have come from the future, where it is a recorded fact that this murder was committed)? Since we already know the outcome, we know that the person involved must commit this act. It is hard to see how we could defend the argument that the person has the free will to choose not to commit the murder, as free will seems to entail that one could choose to act differently.

Perhaps we can defend the idea that free will doesn’t require choice? One thought experiment that is used to motivate compatibilism (courtesy of Harry Frankfurt) asks us to imagine a person who intends to rob a bank. Unbeknownst to this person, a bank-robbery loving demon is watching him, and will step in to force him to rob the bank should he choose to call off the robbery. However, the demon’s intervention is not required, as the person does not change his mind. In this case, it seems intuitively that the person freely chose to rob the bank, even though no other choice was actually possible (because of the demon). Moreover, from his personal perspective, he retained a feeling of free will. From this we are supposed to conclude that free will does not require that we actually have more than one possible choice – free will is compatible with this constraint. However, the hard determinist could argue that the situation under determinism is closer to the hypnotism thought experiment above, rather than to the bank robbery one – which is a subtle but important difference. Frankfurt’s thought experiment, they would argue, leads our intuition astray, as it makes us feel that the robber initially has a perfectly free choice, and that the demon will only need to enforce one particular choice if the robber makes the wrong one. However, on determinism, there is never a time when the choice is free – as the choice is already determined before the person makes their choice (in fact, from the beginning of the universe). They are constrained just as the hypnotised person is. So the case that free will doesn’t require choice is not made.

The compatibilist says we are free if our actions come from our character and desires without coercion. However, on determinism, our characters and desires are caused by forces outside our control – we did not choose our characters or our desires. This is a serious problem for the compatibilist. This objection actually applies to the supernatural type of libertarianism as well. In that case, our actions come from our character and desires, as well as our soul (either acting independently, or influencing our character and desires). The only difference from the compatibilist case is the introduction into the equation of a supernatural soul. However, the design and properties of our soul were not within our control either – they were designed and given by God (or some other supernatural agency). Even if our soul changes according to our (supposedly free-willed) life choices, then the rules governing any such changes were created by God (or whatever). So, this is out of our control as well, and free will becomes incoherent on this theory too.

So, where does each of these metaphysical possibilities leave us with regard to moral responsibility? Of the varieties of libertarianism, only the supernatural variety would seem to allow any room for genuine free will (and that’s open to debate, as the theist’s concept of free will may be incoherent). So, on this theory moral responsibility might exist (notwithstanding the implausibility of the theory itself).

Of the theories of free will that admit determinism, only one might be compatible with free will, and hence moral responsibility – compatibilism. However, in order to rescue free will, the compatibilist has to explain why it is that free will might be removed by some physical constraint (handcuffs, hypnotism etc.), but not by determinism (without equivocating between relevantly different concepts of free will). Furthermore, they must explain why the concept of free will is not incoherent. Hard determinism does not allow for genuine free will. The non-supernatural variety of libertarianism allows for a certain amount of randomness, but this doesn’t seem to entail that we have genuine free will.

So, where do we stand when we return to Kant’s theory of retributive justice? Kant argued that it should apply to rational agents who are free to choose their actions. Under these circumstances, such agents are morally responsible for their actions and, if necessary, should be punished accordingly. However, if we are not free to choose our actions because such actions are uniquely determined by the state of the universe, together with the laws of nature, then retributive justice should not be applicable. As we have seen, hard determinism dictates that we do not have genuine free will so, on this theory, retributive justice would be inappropriate. Furthermore, whilst compatibilists and those who subscribe to some non-supernatural variety of libertarianism wish to allow for free will, it can be argued that they have so far failed to successfully make their case – at least in a form that would entail moral responsibility. So, on both of these theories, retributive justice would also seem to be inappropriate. The only theory of free will that I have examined that might allow for genuine free will is the supernatural type of libertarianism (and this theory is implausible for a variety of reasons).

If we reject free will, and hence moral responsibility, then it would seem that retributive justice (at least as formulated by Kant) is untenable. In this case, should we still be in favour of punishing those guilty of crimes? Perhaps there is a way of reconciling determinism or libertarianism with free will, and this retributive justice but, regardless, we can still justify punishments, including the removal of freedom, on Utilitarian grounds. If a criminal is removed from society, then they are no longer able to commit such crimes – which tends to improve the overall happiness and well-being of the rest of society. Furthermore, such punishments plausibly act as a deterrent against the committing other crimes (if you think not, then try to imagine a society in which there was no legal consequence for law-breaking). One problem with the utilitarian approach, as opposed to the Kantian one, is that it doesn't inherently entail that we punish the criminal himself, rather than some innocent scapegoat (it also does not entail that we match the severity of the punishment to the severity of the crime). If this latter approach resulted in an increase in societal happiness, then why shouldn't we do this on utilitarianism? However, the utilitarian can counter this objection. Firstly, it would not prevent the real criminals from committing more crimes, as they would still be at large - so any increased societal happiness would probably be short-lived. Secondly, the arbitrary punishment and removal of liberty that this strategy entails would indirectly lead to less happiness and societal well-being, as people would justifiably fear that it might happen to them. So, on a more sophisticated version of utilitarianism, I think that we can actually derive the rule that only the real criminal should be punished.

Whilst the end results of punishment on retributive justice and on utilitarian grounds might have similarities, it is likely that they would diverge in many ways. Under hard determinism, we could no longer justify punishment in terms of being ‘an eye for an eye’ (although such an act might arguably psychologically benefit the victims of crime, which could form a utilitarian justification for retribution in particular cases). Instead, it would perhaps need to be justified on utilitarian grounds as maximising the overall happiness of the rest of society. By contrast, if we were to accept that we do have genuine free will, and we do not reject retributive justice for some other reason, then we could easily justify beating violent criminals, and executing murderers, for example (with no thought to any benefits from deterrence and societal happiness). Without retributive justice, such justifications become much more difficult (but perhaps not impossible). Our justice systems include elements of retributive and utilitarian theories of punishment. If we do have genuine free will then, arguably, retributive justice could be given much more focus. Conversely, if we do not possess genuine free will, then any elements of retributive justice should arguably be removed altogether from the legal system. In this latter case, we can still say that somebody is bad, but allow that this was totally outside of their control. In a sense, they are just unlucky. Nevertheless, as part of our implicit contract with the state, we agree to hand over much of the responsibility for our protection, on the understanding that the state will take this role. That carrying this out will involve restricting the liberty of people who might have had no choice but to behave as they do is unfortunate but unavoidable, as it is better than any of the other options. If the state did not do this, then the inevitable resulting rises in crime would increase the total sum of misery, and people would inevitably start to take matters of justice into their own hands, probably leading to the eventual breakdown of the state.

As human beings, we are drawn to retributive justice, as it was adaptive behaviour when enforcing social contracts. However, we need to consider if such behaviour is still appropriate. If determinism is true, as I believe it to be, then perhaps we could still attempt to rescue retributive justice by appeal to the Social Contract theory of morality, although there would be some serious obstacles to overcome. In any case, we should care about our conclusions, as the nature of our justice system affects us all in some way or another, whether directly or indirectly.

Am I a brain-in-a-vat?

The brain in a vat hypothesis is an example of radical scepticism, and is a contemporary reworking of Descartes’ evil demon argument. It may have no practical significance for me (even if true), but it does challenge us to consider and justify what we think we know about the external world, and so is a useful exercise.

The sceptic’s challenge is that, for all I know, I might exist only as a disembodied brain floating in a vat of nutrients. The brain is connected to a supercomputer that is producing electrical impulses that are stimulating it in an identical way to those that would arise from normal perception. So, when I currently think that I am sitting in my office typing on my computer, I actually exist only as a brain that is sitting in a vat and being fed the inputs for all of my perceptions of the world around me. Is there any way that I can answer the sceptic’s challenge?

Firstly, we should note that arguing that I cannot be a brain in a vat, as I can experience the external world in all of its rich texture (and I have detailed memories of it) gets me nowhere, as the hypothesis states that the inputs to my brain are identical to those that it would receive from my senses if I was really experiencing the external world, and therefore the two scenarios are indistinguishable to me.

One possible solution is to say that the hypothesis is an empty one. If I am actually a brain in a vat, but have no way to ever verify this, then it makes no difference to me, so it is as if I really do exist in the world. In this sense, it is a bit like having an invisible and intangible elephant in my garage – it is no different to having no elephant at all. However, there is a crucial difference here that makes the analogy false. At the moment the brain in a vat hypothesis makes no difference to my existence, but if it is actually true then there is the possibility that it might make a difference in the future (the inputs might be changed radically, or stopped completely, for example). So, in that sense, the brain in a vat hypothesis is not an empty one.

Another solution might be attempted by appeal to Occam’s razor. I might venture that the hypothesis that I am a brain in a vat is less parsimonious than the hypothesis that I really do experience the external world as I believe it to be. However, my idea of which hypothesis is the more parsimonious is based upon my experience of the world. If this experience is illusory, and the external world doesn’t exist as I seem to experience it, then my real world hypothesis may be the less parsimonious one. Having said that, there is an intuitive sense in which the brain in a vat hypothesis contains more ad-hoc elements. In this scenario, my experiences need to be based upon something – either upon some reality within the world in which my brain is en-vatted, or else pure fabrications (or some combination of the two). If the former, then some version of the world that I experience does exist somewhere but, for some unknown reason, I exist in it purely as a brain in a vat. If the latter, then it would seem to require a great deal of effort in order to fabricate an internally consistent world of the complexity that I experience, with no obvious reason as to why this should be done at all (note though that the simulation needn't be of an entire universe, as I don't actually experience the entire universe - only a very small subset of it). In both cases, intuition suggests that these options are less parsimonious than the hypothesis that the real world just exists with me in it.

A number of semantic responses have been attempted (by Putnam and others) along the following lines:

P1: If I am a brain in a vat, then my word ‘tree’ does not refer to trees.
P2: My word ‘tree’ refers to trees. So,
C: I am not a brain in a vat

However, all such responses appear to beg the question. The whole point of the sceptic’s argument is that I don’t know that my perception refers to anything in the real world, so P1 and P2 above are not both true (and might be both false). My word ‘tree’ may or may not refer to actual trees, if they exist, but I cannot deduce anything significant from that. For example, imagine that the brain in a vat world is identical to our world, with the exception that the expertise and technology exists to put brains into vats and feed them inputs that are indistinguishable from external perception in the BIV world, and that ‘I’ am one of those brains. In this case, there is a sense in which my word ‘tree’ does refer to trees (the stimulation of my brain is identical to the stimulation that would come from perceiving a real tree, as real trees do exist in the BIV world). In that case, P1 is false, and P2 is true, so the conclusion does not follow. There is also a sense in which my word tree does not refer to trees, since I have never actually seen a ‘real’ tree. In that case, P1 is true, but P2 is false, so again the conclusion does not follow.

In the end, I think that I am warranted in believing that I am not a brain in a vat - even though I cannot prove it. The most parsimonious explanation for all of the evidence that I observe is that I actually do exist in the real world. Any other 'fake world' hypothesis, including the brain in a vat hypothesis, requires me to posit some inscrutible other world in which some agency or agencies exist that have the means and motivation to create a fake world for me. This has to be less parsimonious than the real world hypothesis.

Furthermore, based upon my experience of my world (whether real or fake), the most rational course of action is to attempt to achieve my goals (happiness, for example). Whether my world is real or fake, this course of action is the same. There may be no way, even in principle, for me to determine whether I am a brain in a vat or not, but since the course of action is the same in both cases, it makes no difference to me now (although that might change in the future).

Do some people know the moral rules by which God wants us to live?

Some theists believe that God has laid down a set of moral rules detailing how we should live our lives and, further, that they know what these rules are (I will restrict this discussion to the Judeo-Christian god). This idea that morality is dependent upon God is known as the Divine Command Theory of Morality (as opposed to Divine Essence Theory, which I will not be discussing). But do these people really know what they claim to know? They might believe what they claim, but do these beliefs count as (propositional) knowledge? This is an important question for, if we have good reason to think that the beliefs are true then we should all wish to know this, as the belief system entails that eternal suffering (or, at least, the failure to achieve eternal happiness) may await those who don’t accept these beliefs and live by these rules. Apart from that, if such a wise moral system exists, then we should all wish to live by it. Conversely, if we have good reason to think that the beliefs are false, then the believers should wish to know this, as they otherwise risk spending their lives striving towards bad goals, and not striving towards good goals (by good goals, I mean the goals that they would strive for if they had the correct factual knowledge about the universe, and acted rationally based upon this knowledge; by bad goals, I mean goals that they would not strive for if they had the correct factual knowledge about the universe, and acted rationally based upon this knowledge).

How might we determine whether these beliefs can be described as knowledge? We need to determine the necessary and sufficient conditions for something to be classified as knowledge, and then establish whether the beliefs in question meet these conditions. Most epistemologists would agree that knowledge requires at least true belief. So, for example, for me to ‘know’ that the Earth orbits the Sun, then I must believe this proposition and, further, it must also be true. However, whilst belief and truth are necessary conditions for knowledge, they are not usually judged to be sufficient conditions, as this would otherwise allow lucky guesses to be included as knowledge. Intuitively, it makes sense that we should need some reasonable justification for our true beliefs in order for them to qualify as knowledge. There is a sense in which acquiring knowledge, as opposed to mere true belief, requires some work or achievement on our part. For example, if I believed in advance that a tossed coin will come up heads, and it did, then I could not legitimately claim this as knowledge, unless I could somehow justify my true belief (for example, if I knew that the coin was a biased one that was almost guaranteed to come up heads).

However, this tripartite definition of knowledge as justified true belief has a serious flaw, as pointed out in the notorious counterexamples of Edmund Gettier. I might believe some true proposition, and I might be able to justify my belief, and yet it might still not be real knowledge. For example, in the coin toss case I mentioned above, if I think that a biased coin is being used, and therefore have a justified true belief that the coin will come up heads, then I would seem to have knowledge. However, it could be that unbeknownst to me somebody switched the coin for an unbiased one, which came up heads by chance alone. In this case, I could not really be said to ‘know’ that it would come up heads.

The definition of knowledge as justified true belief also has an additional challenge, in that it needs to answer a regress problem in the series of justifications for a true belief. If I believe some true proposition P, and I justify it by means of justification X, then what belief justifies X, and so on? The three possibilities are that we have an infinite series of justifications; that some of our justifications are circular (i.e. they are used to justify each other); or that we finally reach a point in our series of justifications where we have basic beliefs that are in need of no further justification. Each of these possibilities presents its own particular difficulties. It is hard to see how an infinite or circular set of justifications can be used as a solid foundation for knowledge, and it is not at all clear that we can have any basic beliefs that are at once indisputably self-evident (e.g. 2+2 =4) and yet can act as a foundation for all other knowledge. For example, Ayer postulated in his book Language, Truth, and Logic that from tautologies we can deduce only other tautologies, and that there is no such thing as a true a priori synthetic statement (we can only attempt to verify it by observation).

I believe that the way around these objections is to accept that there are properly basic synthetic beliefs that act as a foundation for all of our empirical knowledge. These beliefs are those of our direct experience - since it is undeniable at those moments that we are experiencing some cognitive sensation, even if we might be wrong about what that sensation is. From these properly basic beliefs, we can create our chain of justifications for the rest of our empirical knowledge. The other required element in our theory of knowledge is that each justification in our chain should be the result of a reliable process. That is, knowledge is justified true belief where each justification is the result of some reliable (i.e. truth-conducive) mechanism (and our chain of justifications ultimately rests upon foundational properly basic beliefs). So, for example, I can be said to know that there is a computer in front of me if this belief is true and if I can justify this by some reliable mechanism (e.g. if I can see it, and I can justify the general reliability of my visual perception through a series of justifications that ultimately rest upon my properly basic beliefs). I thus avoid the need to produce an infinite or circular series of justifications for this belief. Now, reliabilism, as this concept of using reliable mechanisms is called, is open a range of possible objections, including Gettier ones, but it still seems to be the most promising of the possible alternatives.

So, armed with our definition of knowledge, we can now look at the Divine Command Theory beliefs of the theists (note that there are a number of objections to this theory, including Euthyphro’s dilemma, which I will not examine here). If we unpack the Divine Command Theory of morality, then we have the following propositions:

1. God exists (and is usually defined as being omnipotent, omniscient, omnibenevolent, immaterial, the uncreated creator of the universe, and having a particular interest in humans).
2. God has a set of moral rules that humans are required to obey.
3. God has communicated these rules to humanity.

Note that propositions 2 and 3 are dependent upon the truth of proposition 1, as they each assume God’s existence (or, at least, that God has previously existed and communicated his moral rules to humanity) – if this is false, then propositions 2 and 3 are necessarily false. What are we to make of these? Ayer would suggest that these propositions are literally meaningless, as they fail his Verification Principle. He would maintain that the proposition that God exists is not true by definition and, further, its truth or falsehood cannot be determined (even in principle) by any observation. However, if we ignore this objection for the moment, and grant that the proposition that God exists is meaningful, then what can we say about these three propositions?

Making use of the analysis of knowledge given earlier, can the belief of these three propositions be considered to be knowledge? In this case, and unlike my example of the coin toss (where I might have a lucky true belief), the actual truth of the beliefs is not known, so we haven’t necessarily satisfied the truth requirement of knowledge. All we have so far is belief. However, since the reliability criterion itself will tend to maximise true beliefs whilst minimising false ones (assuming the validity of inductive reasoning), can we at least determine whether these beliefs have been reached by some reliable mechanism? If so, then this will point towards their truth or, if not, then towards their falsity. Furthermore, if the mechanism can be shown to be an unreliable one, then these beliefs will not count as knowledge, even if they might be true. In that case, they would at most be mere true belief, and would thus lack the stability of real knowledge.

Attempts have been made to prove Proposition 1 by analytic means alone – for example, the Ontological Argument. However, this argument is open to a number of objections, and few philosophers are convinced of its soundness (even if it is difficult to pin down exactly where it goes wrong). Theists might also seek to establish the truth of proposition 1 by means of one or other of the cosmological, teleological, or moral arguments for God’s existence. However, all of these arguments have been convincingly rebutted, most can anyway only argue for some inscrutable universe-creating entity as opposed to the specific Judeo-Christian God, and none successfully supports the additional elements of propositions 2 and 3 . In particular, since we are interested in determining the reliability of the theists’ belief-creating mechanism, it should be noted that few theists form their beliefs based upon these arguments anyway (although they may trust that some of these arguments are sound). Rather, in order to establish propositions 2 and 3, theists will typically resort to the evidence in the Bible, to what their religious leaders (or other people) tell them, or to their own perception of religious experience. I will examine each of these in turn to determine if they constitute reliable, truth-conducive mechanisms.

Firstly, the Bible. In general, I would contend that forming empirical beliefs about the world based upon statements contained in ancient historical documents is liable to be unreliable. Due to the many known examples of credulity, exaggeration, and fabrication in historical documents, and to the lack of knowledge of the world possessed by people in these ancient times, we must be very careful about granting too much credence to the contents of these documents. Descriptions of events are always questionable unless they can be corroborated by relevantly similar descriptions in a other sources – preferably those already known to be reliable. Additionally, in the case of contentious elements, we need to consider whether the events or things described seem plausible. In the particular case of the Bible, we have a number of serious problems:

• We have accounts that were written many years after the events themselves were supposed to have happened


• We have inconsistent and contradictory descriptions of the same events


• There are other supposedly revealed religious texts that differ in significant ways from the Bible, and yet God's message is held to be universal and revealed the same to everyone


• We have little or no corroboration in any other sources


• We have methods that are known to introduce unreliability - word of mouth, geographically dispersed multiple authors, editing and compilation that is arbitrary or that has an agenda, elements that were revealed in dreams etc.


• On top of all of this, we have a number of extraordinary metaphysical claims about supernatural entities (including God) and events. Some of these claims are in opposition to our current reliably formed knowledge about how the universe works.

In light of this, to take the word of the Bible when it comes to extraordinary metaphysical claims about God and his supposed moral rules for humanity would clearly seem to be an unreliable mechanism for generating true beliefs.

Appeal to religious leaders or other people fares no better than appeal to the Bible as a reliable mechanism for generating true beliefs. The first problem when it comes to relying on such testimony is that the set of statements made by such people is partially or wholly contradictory, so choosing to believe any particular statement or set of statements on this basis alone would seem to be purely arbitrary. Generally, we can accord some measure of reliability to testimony if the statements come from someone who has demonstrated that they are an expert on the topic concerned. However, in the case of religious leaders, the statements that they make generally have no means by which their truth or falsity may be determined. We have no independent yardstick against which to judge the reliability or otherwise of their metaphysical statements, so no determination can be made. Hence, we have no good reason to judge this as a reliable truth generating mechanism, and plenty of other reasons to judge it otherwise (some statements contradict reliably formed knowledge, and many statements are in contradiction with each other etc.)

How about people’s religious experience – is this reliable? Does Calvin and Plantinga’s hypothesised sensus divinitatis constitute a reliable mechanism through which to acquire true beliefs? I would suggest that the simple answer is no. Firstly, any divine messages and revelations that people claim to have received by such means are culture-specific, inconsistent and contradictory. Secondly, any such messages seem to consist of nothing more than banalities or vague and unverifiable metaphysical notions. Thirdly, we are aware of many alternative explanations for such feelings of the transcendental –dreams, hallucinations, power of suggestion, psychotic episodes etc. Plantinga would have us take such experiences at face value (as basic beliefs), in the same way that I would do when I perceive an object in front of my eyes. However, the difference between the two cases is that we have no evidence of the reliability of the sensus divinitatis, as it is unverifiable, whereas we have lots of mutually-reinforcing evidence of the reliability (most of the time) of our senses. Furthermore, as the beliefs acquired through the supposed sensus divinitatis are sometimes mutually contradictory, we know that some or all of them must be wrong. Hence, it would clearly seem to be an unreliable mechanism for generating true belief. This also confutes the idea that such a hypothesised sensus divinitatis could produce properly basic beliefs.

Based upon the foregoing, I would conclude that the theistic belief that God has communicated to us a set of moral rules by which we must live has been generated by unreliable mechanisms. Unreliable mechanisms tend to produce false beliefs, so this belief is likely to be false. However, even if it is true, this belief does not constitute real knowledge, but mere true belief. As such, it lacks the stability and robustness of real knowledge.