The logical pitfalls of 'militant atheism'

Religious debate does not sit well with the British psyche, at least not at a public level. For most people, even the Church of England is less a mounthpiece of god than a cultural peculiarity. It encapsulates perfectly the attitude of most Britons towards religion; largely ignored, but something utterly ensconced in our national make-up. It is with some trepidation, therefore, that I attempt to wade into the current and ongoing debate between 'aggressive secularism,' and those that wish to see religion play a more active role in our political and social lives.

Now I should preface this by saying that I'm an atheist. Not a 'militant' atheist as Richard Dawkins would like me to be, but an aetheist nontheless. That I don't consider myself 'militant' should also not be interpreted as a defence of religion. Whilst I don't share Dawkins' fervour for intolerance, I agree that dogmatic religious belief is damaging and harmful.

What I find so endlessly tedious about this debate is that, whilst it dresses itself in modern guise, it is simply a rehashing of a positivistic assault on faith. Essentially the argument boils down to the fact that it is impossible to demonstrate, through logical or empirical proof, that god exists, and moral concepts predicated on the existence of a metaphysical entity are, by association,  meaningless. Betrand Russel in his Sceptical Essays claimed that "it is undesirable to believe in a proposition when there are no grounds whatever for supposing it is true," and A. J. Ayer took inspiration from this utterance when constructing his assault on metaphysics in Language, Truth and Logic.

If we look at Dawkins' assault on religion, obvious similarities come to light. In 2002, Dawkins gave a speech in the US on 'militant atheism.' Quoting the wonderful Douglas Adams, he questioned why it was that religious propositions (e.g. god exists) are not analysed and questioned in the same way that a scientific proposition would be. That is, testing hypotheses that are vulnerable to disproof through logical or empirical means. He reacts with indignation to the suggestion that there is perhaps something different about these propositions, something 'sacred' that distinguishes a religious from a scientific hypothesis. He sees no difference between the two categories of proposition, just as Russel and Ayer before him.

The problem with this positivistic assault on religion is that it utterly fails to understand the subject matter that it is attempting to subvert. When Dawkins attacks religion, he is not attacking faith but a caricature of faith that lacks any kind of social or historical nuance. I think Terry Eagleton got it pretty spot on when he wrote, "imagine someone holding forth on biology whose only knowledge of the subject is the Book of British Birds, and you have a rough idea of what it feels like to read Richard Dawkins on theology."

Dawkins clearly betrays a lack of historical understanding. According to the propositional logic from which his arguments descend, one can simply line up propositions uttered at any point over history and judge them on the same criteria of logical or empirical verifiability. Those that meet this criteria are kept, whilst those that don't are simply discarded as meaningless. When Dawkins demolishes the proposition 'god exists,' he fails to understand or consider the circumstances under which that utterance arose. Not only does this do grave injustice to many centuries of thinking, it is also an incredibly elitist and damaging philosophy to promulgate. By banishing questions of morality and metaphysics, the positivistic assault seperates discussion of morality from the practice of living morally. Its lesson is that you can talk about morals all you want, but it won't actually impact on their practical application.

Dawkins also fails to understand religious impulse, as well as the role that religion has played in our cultural and social evolution. Indeed, one can make the argument that the evolutionary biology which Dawkins claims to defend has very clear roots in religious conceptions of god and nature. Spinoza, for example, conceived of a pantheistic god that was indistinguishable from nature, combining, in so doing, faith in a divine power with a reasoned understanding of the world around him. The idea being that by investigating the world rationally, one took a step towards understanding god's 'plan.' The concept of  a divine creator was a way of codifying and explaining the world, and also provided a framework under which further exploration could be conducted. That god is perhaps no longer necessary to this enterprise, thanks to great leaps in our understanding of the universe, does not render the idea of god a meaningless one.

What I think is most important, however, is that in his reasoning Dawkins is demonstrating what R. G. Collingwood called 'low-grade thinking.' When one compares one proposition against another with no thought as to why each proposition arose in the first place, one is entirely ignoring the baggage that comes with them. In contrast to propositional logic, therefore, Collingwood promulagated a logic of question and answer. Our thoughts, he reasoned, do not simply arise out of an ether, but are products of often hard and laborious problem-solving. It is only when we endeavour to unpick our thoughts that we realise that what we originally believed to be a proposition was in fact the answer to a very specific question, and it is only in so far that a proposition answers the question it was intended to answer that we can judge its verifiability. This, of course, necessitates knowing what the question was, and also understanding the context in which the question arose.

This, however, is a project to which Dawkins and other positivists will not consent. Instead they would rather attack and categorise a subject about which they know nothing, creating straw men and burning them to the ground to no effect whatsoever. Analysing the proposition 'god exists' is necessarily a historical examination of the circumstances in which that proposition arose. Propositional logic has demonstrated itself incapable and unwilling to take on that task, so it will always fail to adequately comprehend the motivations for religious faith. If Dawkins did endeavour to examine this proposition correctly, I think he would find a much more scientific story that he might imagine.

Climate Change and the Public/Private Debate

In my last post, I drew attention to the debate between Keynes and Hayek and the way in which their differing economic views came to define many of the opinions of the left and right, respectively. The key point to take from this debate, for me, is that both men, Keynes willingly and Hayek reluctantly, admitted the need for State intervention into the private sphere. The difference between the two thinkers was how far and how deep this intervention should go. Hayek always maintained that the State should be peripheral, and confined to only the most basic elements of welfare like health and education. Keynes, in contrast, held that the State's role within the economy should be dictated by circumstance. If unemployment was high, as it was for much of Keynes's career, governments should intervene to create employment. But, if social concerns were not so acute, the State could afford to be more subdued. Famously, when confronted with the criticism that he had altered his monetary policy, Keynes is alleged to have said: "When the facts change, I change my mind. What do you do, sir?"

The lesson, therefore, is where one decides draws the line between the private and the public sphere, not a decision between public and private in themselves. This line, as Keynes made clear, is constantly shifting as discoveries, disasters, and fortune alters the economic, political, and social landscape. We must constantly keep asking how far the State should be able to encroach on private life, and how much reign should be granted to the pursuit of private enterprise?

Arguably, these questions have never carried as much weight as they do today. The world is confronted not only with an economic crisis of unprecedented scope and scale, but an environmental crisis that is destined to impact the course of human history in profound and perhaps yet unseen ways. When Keynes wrote his great works of economics, his principle concern was unemployment. Today we must add to that the fear of environmental calamity.

With this in mind, it seems increasingly clear that State intervention on a national and international scale is required to ward off these twin dangers. How else are we to secure both economic prosperity and a viable and environmentally sound future? Such is the depth to which Keynesian thinking has been relegated, however, that government action, particularly in the United States, is regularly perceived as, at best, a violation of personal liberty, and, at worst, a maniacal plot to enslave. Free-marketeers still vociferously maintain that a market unencumbered by regulation is the most effective way to combat the dangers of climate disaster and economic ruin. I believe they are wrong on both counts.

Both Europe and the US were plunged into financial crisis at the same time, but whilst America continues to demonstrate tentative recovery and a declining unemployment rate, the EU languishes in recession. The simple reason for this is that the US continues to bolster its economy through stimulus, whilst endeavouring to minimise cuts. The economy is being allowed to recover before it is attacked. In Europe, the opposite is the case. Germany dictates crippling terms to 'lazy' southern Europeans leading to record levels of unemployment, and shrinking economies. In Britain, unemployment stands at a 17-year high and the economy has flatlined. The image of the private sector saddled up and riding to the rescue of a beleagured public sphere has failed to materialise.

Likewise, there is pretty clear evidence that the markets alone are not fit to take on the challenge offered by climate change. For a start, there is just too much vested interest at stake. Companies like Chevron, BP, Exxon Mobil, and Shell stand to lose billions if the markets decided to treat global warming seriously. This is because the reserves, on which the value of these companies is based, must be left in the ground if we are to meet climate targets. On top of that, the private sector is simply incapable of moving fast enough on its own and huge government backing will be required if we are to build sustainable industry and innovative technology. At the moment, our fossil fuel consumption is going up exponentially, and not down as it needs to.

The problem for any realist, anyone who can see the very real danger in government inaction, is that they are inevitably confronted with waves of vitriolic ideology. The public vs. private debate has become so toxic that those on the private side have lost all sense of context, pushing the idea of the State as an overbearing force of oppression, and seeing conspiracy in the most strongly supported scientific data. We need to stop thinking of public and private in terms of opposites, but in a way which harnesses the best qualities of both. Innovation, solidity, and, yes, regulations. It is only through cooperation, redirection, and by harnessing the creativity of private industry that a way out of these twin crises can be found.

Keynes vs. Hayek

Last night I went to a lecture at the LSE by Nicholas Wapshott on the ways in which the economic debate between John Mayhard Keynes and Friedrich Hayek continues to define the policy of the left and the right. In the speaker's own words, he paints his analysis in "broad brush strokes" and as the lecture went on it became more and more clear that his argument was mainly directed to the left and right in America.

Essentially, Wapshott maintains that the economic policies of the left and right since the end of the second world war have been largely defined by the contrasting economic programs of Keynes and Hayek. Following the first world war, the brilliant Keynes arose to prominence and eventually grew to define economics until the 1970s with a focus on raising employment. Thereafter, a paradigm shift catapulted the previously out of favour Hayek into the spotlight to such an extent that his supposed views are now central to Republican, and particularly Tea Party, thinking in the US. Wapshott's caricatures of Keynes and Hayek are not particularly nuanced - Keynes = state spending, whilst Hayek = cutting services and small government - but his talk did raise a few interesting points that I thought I would share.

Wapshott makes a case that the European reaction to the ongoing financial crisis is strongly rooted in a Hayekian paradigm. If one looks at the actions of the conservative party in the UK, it is hard not to see at least a little glee at the rolling back of some aspects of the welfare state. Likewise, in Europe, the ever harsher austerity measures forced upon supposedly 'lazy' southern States appears to suggest an indifference to high unemployment and a fervour for cutting state expenditure.

Keynes, as Wapshott notes, would have been horrified by the potentially disastrous political consequences that such policies entail. Writing, as he did, at a time of both high unemployment and dramatic political extremism, Keynes forsaw an inevitable link between the two. Indeed, The Economic Consequences of the Peace accurately predicted the rise of extremist politics in Germany following the crippling measures imposed by the allied forces in the treaty of Versailles.

What Wapshott clearly fears, and not without good reason, is that the austerity purges enacted by national and European governments may well bring about the same disenfrachisement that precipitated the rise of Fascism in Europe. Inevitably, when this austerity comes from an external, foreign power, the inherent risk of stoking nationalist fervour is increasingly aggravated.

Another key point to emerge from the talk was the relationship between public and private sectors and the way in which debate on this relationship has become increasingly toxic in recent years. Keynes obviously favoured a degree of state intervention to ward off the dangers of high unemployment, but Wapshott also notes that Hayek himself admitted the need for a welfare state that could cater for basic services, like health and education - not that you'll ever hear this from Libertarians. The key to the argument is not State vs. Private, but where the line between the two should be drawn.

This point is something all too readily forgotten by many on the American right today. The choice is not, and has never been, between an extreme laissez-faire economics or an absolute Statist solution, but whether circumstances demand State intervention or not. Those that paint Keynes as a dangerous Socialist, moreover, for advocating State solutions, are fooling themselves. Keynes was an economic pragmatist, and as the facts changed so did his opinions. Instead, what the right's vilification of Keynesian economics, and its trumpeting of a debased Hayekianism, demonstrates, is its inflexibility, as well as its willingess to pursue ideology over practical politics. These are, of course, the very same criticisms thrown at so-called 'Socialists' that advocate a degree of regulation.

A quick glance through the car-crash television series that is the GOP nominaton race tells you the degree to which a small government ethos is ingrained in Republican economic policy. Despite very strong evidence that deregulation of the market played a pivotal role in the crash of 2008, the right's answer is to strap the patient down for another dose. It is the right's inability to understand the practical requirements of today's economy, and it is their unwillingness to view the State as anything other than the boogie man, that makes them so dangerous.

The pathology of climate change denial

It's an interesting experience trying to reason with a climate change denier. Sort of like trying to explain the water cycle to a caveman. No matter how much you point to the mountains, clouds, and rivers, they're still going to club you to death and steal your sandwiches. Saying that, it's also easy to understand why people wouldn't want to believe in something like climate change. It's so big and difficult. It requires thinking about how you lead your life and how the world economy should be run, how politics would have to change etc. etc. For many people it's simply easier to stick their fingers in their ears and pretend its not happening. I get that.

There is a certain type of denier that I cannot stand, however, and that is the politically motivated denier. The sort of hack that will distort and obstruct information because the consequences of real debate might entail them having to revise certain presumptions underlying their political or economic thinking. Specifically, I'm thinking of those people who peddle myths about climate change, who cherry-pick data, who smear reputations, and who lie in order to push the idea that scientific consensus does not exist. The most pernicious, disgusting, and offensive of these are the conspiracy theorists. Those who have abandoned all attachment to reason because it comes into conflict with their narrow and stunted view of the world, and who would rather see innocent lives ruined rather than face up to the shortcomings in their own political views.

When you hear the word conspiracy theorist, I'm sure your first thoughts are of someone on the periphery of society; someone a little bit out there and more likely to harm themselves than others. What you probably wouldn't expect is to find their views plastered all over some of the most popular and reputable newspapers in the country and echoed by politicians around the world. My favourite conspiracy theory I will title the 'Socialist tree-hugger conspiracy,' and its principal advocate in the UK is James Delingpole. Truly, Delingpole is the Glenn Beck of British conspiracy theory. Somebody needs to get this man a chalkboard. In James Delingpole's head, the 'Socialist tree-hugger conspiracy' must have formed something like this: man-made global warming = regulations. Regulations? Bleurgh, me no like regulations. Me like libertarianism. Who like regulations? Socialists, bleurgh. And who else don't me like? Hippies. Man-made global warming = Socialist tree-hugger conspiracy. This is essentially the argument behind his book, Watermelons, and is actually quite funny, if you can manage to laugh through the tears.

The cheek of this man, so afraid to question his unswerving faith in libertarianism, to then accuse the rest of the world of bad faith for approaching the scientific evidence behind climate change in a rational and open-minded manner. If he paused for two minutes to actually examine the claims he is making about the validity of climate science, he'd be forced to admit that he is wrong. It is testament to his pig-headedness that he will not do this. Contrary to what he might say, there is a ton of evidence to support the theory of anthropogenic global warming, just as there are rather striking reasons why we should try to diversify our energy production. It's not hard to find. Every single warming myth, and every single distortion of the facts, has been quickly and easily debunked. Instead, however, Delingpole conceives of a world in which the Met Office, the WWF, Friends of the Earth, Nasa, the BBC, the governments of Australia and New Zealand, China, South Korea, CNBC, David Cameron, and the vast majority of British people, sat down one evening and decided to hatch an elaborate plot to secure the destruction of Western civilisation. That's not free thinking, that's delusional.

And that is perhaps what troubles me most about climate change denial. The sheer irrationality of it. If you or I were to run around shouting about government conspiracies on the street, we'd likely be politely taken away and provided with medical attention. If you spout conspiracy about climate change, however, you can be rewarded with a regular spot in the Telegraph.

Sustainability and Efficiency

The way in which the world reacts to climate change now will resonate for many years to come, so it is particularly important that the right response is forthcoming. But what is the right answer to rising temperatures and how do we best change the way we produce energy? Clearly there is much disagreement on this question. Some advocate a transfer of emphasis from certain fossil fuels, like coal and oil, to gas, suggesting this could be a short term measure to slow warming. The problem remains, however, that natural gas also produces a pretty hefty amount of CO2 and doesn't necessarily solve our problems long term. Not to mention the fracking debate, which remains a controversial sticking point. Could nuclear be the option? Well potentially yes (a new generation of fast reactors is certainly an exciting prospect), but, as disasters like Fukushima have illustrated, this is an incredibly emotive issue. Nuclear does produce low-carbon energy, but comes with certain long-term strings attached. Not to mention the fact that it's incredibly expensive and takes an awful long time to put into action.

On the face of it, the only widely agreeable solution is renewable energy. Technologies that harness natural forces and convert them into electricity, creating, in theory, an unlimited and cheap supply of power. The hitch comes when we discuss the efficiency of these technologies. The right-wing press has lost no time in vilifying solar and wind power for being both too expensive and ineffectual in the battle against climate change, which, let's remember, many of its contributors would suggest is a fictitious enterprise. The Daily Mail has been censured on numerous occasions for exaggerating the economic impact to energy bills that renewable technologies entail, and the Policy Exchange think tank was taken apart by Mark Lynas for making similar claims with regard to offshore wind. Even on the left, praise for renewable technology is not unlimited. George Monbiot, for example, is strongly opposed to government FITs for the solar industry, which he sees as a middle class subsidy.

The economic argument is heading down a blind alley. The technology may or may not be expensive, but, quite frankly, it is a price well worth paying. If the government truly believes in renewable energy then it should make the case for it in the strongest possible terms and confront any qualms about cost head on. What it should also ensure is that where costs are high, the poorest in our society, currently preyed upon by unscrupulous energy providers, are not the ones that foot the bill. At the same time, let's not forget how much governments worldwide spend on subsidies for high carbon fossil fuels. Given the choice, I know where I'd prefer my money to go.

Leaving the money aside, the other criticism regularly levelled at renewables is one that suggests that the technology itself is inefficient, and, therefore, its environmental contribution is negligible. Not only do I believe this to be wrong, I also think it demonstrates considerable short-sightedness. I'm not saying that all renewables are perfect, and a great deal of thought needs to go into which technology is most appropriate to any given situation, but their efficacy cannot be denied. South Korea just sent a very clear message to the world by announcing plans for a 2.5 GW offshore wind park. That represents a contribution of around 70% of today's total offshore capacity, and is the equivalent to the power produced by two coal-fired power stations. Try telling the Koreans that wind power is useless.

What I also find objectionable about this line of reasoning is that it fails to take account of the fact that renewable technology is still a young and developing market. Right-wing free-marketeers always claim that the most efficient and innovative way to pursue growth and development is to leave the market well alone to adapt to changes. Technologies will develop, obstacles will be overcome, and prosperity will ensue. However, it seems abundantly clear that the market alone cannot adjust at the rate required. What does become clear from attacks on renewables is that often those same free-marketeers are not prepared to embrace their own rhetoric, and instead attack as inefficient an industry that has barely begun to show its potential. If the history of capitalism teaches us anything, it is that new technologies take time to reach their optimal performance. Where there is demand, competition and investment, however, you can bet your house that efficiency will increase.

I think the renewables market is actually exemplary of the very best that capitalism can offer. Not a free-market free-for-all, or a State-run plan, but a cooperative engagement that combines individual innovation with collective backing, both financially and politically. It is when these elements are combined that capitalism is at its most human and admirable. Far from turning our backs on this fledgling industry, we should be proud that it is moving, ever more efficiently, in the right direction.

Climate Change and Paradigm Shifts

I wanted to expand on a theme I have developed over a number of blogs and root a little deeper into the question of why anthropogenic climate change is so vigorously attacked by many on the right wing, and why Libertarians in particular are such staunch enemies of the 'green lobby,' as they call it. In doing so, I also want to touch on wider questions of political discourse, and specifically the absolute presuppositions that govern our political thinking.

Absolute presuppositions are the fundamental suppositions of any body of thinking. Take causation. If I were a doctor treating you for an ailment and I told you that your headache was caused by exposure to the sun and a lack of fluids, you might reply "well, how do you know that?" I could then explain the way in which heat and lack of fluids impacts on your body resulting in a particular reaction, in this instance a headache. If you continued to question me as to why this was the case, I might have to resort to saying that this is the way that that is the way in which you provide a diagnosis. You find a cause (sun and lack of fluids) and you match it to the symptom (headache) or vice versa. If you were to press me further on why this must be so, I would be liable to get testy and tell you in no uncertain terms that that is the way it is: a cause always produces an effect. What we have hit upon here is an absolute presupposition. It is a supposition which admits of no further questioning. No matter how much you pushed me, I would not be able to go beyond this presupposition in my thinking.

What is particularly important about absolute presuppositions is not their being true or false (after all plenty of theories of causation exist), but simply the fact that they are supposed. Nor does their non-verifiability impact upon the soundness of the thinking that emanates from them. The key is simply their logical primacy.

R. G. Collingwood, the British historian and philosopher, was the first to describe absolute presuppositions in these terms, arguing that the much-maligned discipline of metaphysics had been widely misunderstood by his contemporaries and was in fact an investigation into the absolute presuppositions held by certain people in particular historical contexts. Moreover, he maintained that as context alters over time so too do the absolute presuppositions that frame our thoughts. These revolutionary changes are usually accompanied by fierce resistance from those with vested interests in existing absolute presuppositions. One only needs to look at the history of any number of scientific disciplines to know this to be true.

Thomas Kuhn's Structure of Scientific Revolutions, likewise, applies the idea of paradigm shifts to scientific discourse. Paradigms he describes as the arena in which 'normal science' can proceed. That is, a science rooted to a particular principle or theory. The shift occurs when a rival theory gains popularity and exposes the previously hidden difficulties of a prior paradigm. A paradigm shift, just like a change in absolute presuppositions, is often accompanied by violent rhetorical and physical struggle. Again, the importance with Kuhn's theory does not necessarily lie in the truth or falsehood of paradigms, but in their acceptance by a body of researchers. This is the way in which scientific revolutions occur.

Kuhn's theory, although ostensibly directed to the scientific community, has gained particular traction with modern intellectal historians. Particularly those who are keen to disavow the idea of eternal and unchanging truths like justice, or the ideal State. What we learn most obviously from Kuhn and Collingwood is that there is no such thing as eternal truths; we cannot compare Hobbes' Leviathan to Plato's Republic and decide which is the 'best' form of governance. Propositions or theories propounded in a particular historical circumstance must always be looked at as an attempt to address contemporary concerns, and it is only in their ability to address questions posed by a particular context that we can judge their success or failure.

Now this is the interesting bit. Discussions over anthropogenic climate change, whilst not particularly revolutionary in the scientific world (in terms of the paradigms under which the sciences operate), are causing seismic shifts in political discourse simply because of the very real threat posed to the various absolute presuppositions governing political theory. This is because acceptance of AGW involves a reappraisal of views on private property, individual liberty and the power of the state. This necessarily impinges upon the core beliefs of right-wingers, and might go some way towards explaining why some see AGW as a Socialist-led conspiracy.

Again, we can here draw out just why this problem remains such a pressing one for Libertarians. Take Nozick, for example. His idealised political system was not premised, as with Conservatives or other liberals, on the idea of the social contract emerging from a state of nature, but was rather founded on the principle of individual rights themselves. Here he inherits a position first presented by J. S. Mill, who claimed that the State's sole function should be to ensure that the liberty of individual citizens was protected. If it were to impinge upon that liberty, it had to have a very strong reason for doing so, such as protecting one individual from the violence of another. The problem confronted by Libertarians is that acceptance of climate change necessarily involves redrawing the limits of individual liberty, which necessarily involves empowering the State. Now, contrary to what I have said in the past, this does not necessarily have to be fatal to the whole Libertarian enterprise, but it does demand some serious thinking.

Kuhn suggested that there were two ways in which a paradigm shift could be brought about: through the popularity of a new theory, or through a discovery that challenges the basis of an existing paradigm. The discovery of climate change (if we can call a science with over 100 years of history a discovery) has dramatically forced a reappraisal of political priorities and principles, and this discovery has been greeted with the customary rhetorical violence that any fundamental shift entails. So whilst the numbers of those who doubt the reality of AGW is increasing, this should not detract from the majority who have accepted the fact. The angry minority is but the last throes of a dying paradigm.