on falsifiability

There are lots of things that I believe in. 

I believe in the planet Mars. I believe in Morgan Freeman. I believe in the yucca plant. Even though I have not been to Mars, I have not met Morgan Freeman, and I have not seen a yucca plant, I believe in these things because there is a wealth of evidence for them. I could go into the evidence specifically, but I don't want to waste my time trying to prove something that most likely everyone can already agree upon.


The reason I bring up these examples is to show that I have belief. I can put my faith in the certain existence of many things, provided there is enough indisputable, reliable, tangible, corroborative evidence for them. Therefore, I have difficulty believing in things that lack this sort of evidence and stand upon claims that are disputable, unreliable, intangible, and uncorroborated.


Basically, what we're talking about here is the burden of proof. In short: a burden of proof (at least as far as philosophy and theology are concerned) demands that in order for an idea to be adopted as logical and sensible, the person claiming that idea must prove it to be logical and sensible. It is unreasonable to present an idea and then demand that others disprove it, not having adequately proven it in the first place.      


And that's really the point of this post. It's a common theist practice to claim that the notion of God's existence cannot be disproved, and use that as rhetorical leverage. I submit the following video as just one of many examples: 

And there you have it. Can you disprove God? Well, no, not really. It's rather difficult to disprove something that cannot be proven in the first place. The common attributes of a monotheistic god involve existing on a level outside of human perception and not making his presence known in modern history. That's sort of religion's focal point: having complete, unmitigated faith despite a lack of tangible, realistic evidence.

If any one religion had compelling enough evidence, there would not be so many religions (or sects, for that matter) and not nearly as many atheists. Therefore, the burden of proof has never been fulfilled by theists. How can an atheist--or, really, why should an atheist--spend his time trying to disprove something that is presented as unfalsifiable? We'd be sent on a juvenile wild goose chase; cue Benny Hill music.


Paraphrased theistic rhetoric: 

I believe in an all-powerful, all-knowing being who created the universe. He is a conscious entity who has done the following things [insert biblical text here]. We cannot perceive him, however, and the only personal proof of his existence is witnessed after death. Since you cannot disprove such an entity, that is further reasoning for His existence.

I'm sure that my wording sounds like condescension or at least simplification, but that's the crux of the argument for a god, and it's silly. There's really no better word for it: it's silly. This is the sort of game 5-year-olds play when they want to win an argument through annoyance: 

"You can't prove that I ate the cookies. You just think I did."

"Well, if you didn't eat them, then who did?" 

"A monster." 

"A monster? Well, where is he now?"

"He's invisible."

And despite all evidence to the contrary, as long as a theory can't be disproved, children and theists will think it reasonable.  

Besides, mountains of contradictions and falsifications have arisen from the bible, and yet somehow that is not enough to disprove its validity overall. We can say, with near certainty, that the following tenets of Judeo-Christianity are wrong: 

• The planet was created in seven days.
• Human beings have existed since the beginning of our planet. 
• The Earth is only a few thousand years old. 
• The Earth doesn't move.
• All stars were created at the same time. 
• The solar system is geocentric.

... and we're not even out of Genesis yet. But (aside from biblical literalists, who will still somehow assert these things) Christians will simply dismiss these ideas as outdated or even metaphorical, and continue on to say how God Himself cannot be disproved. Even when disproving the validity of the primary textual source for a deity, its followers will still hold firm to the belief in said deity. Why? 

Because it cannot be disproved. 

In that case, I have an invisible-monster-catching-net to sell you for 500 dollars. 

on ralucric

I've never been a particularly gullible man. I've always tried to examine the world with a critical eye and look at all sides of an equation. I've even been called cynical from time to time. So when I hold firm to a belief, you must trust me when I say there's evidence to back up my claim.


With this in mind, let me tell you about an eye-opening experience I've had. In fact, it changed my entire world view. Go ahead, laugh at my sentimentality, but once you understand what I've come to accept as truth, you'll be standing right beside me on this issue.


Specifically, let me tell you about Ralucric. Ralucric is a planet in the galaxy of Gninosaer, many lightyears away from us, in a section of the galaxy still undiscovered by our technologies. You may question how I know of this place, and in time I will impart this knoweldge. What you must first know, before all else, is that Ralucric is a wonderful place. It has a topography not unlike our own, and its inhabitants are not dissimilar in appearance. By all initial accounts, one might believe that Earth and Ralucric were one in the same. But upon closer investigation, it becomes apparent that the Ralucric people live a much happier, more perfect, life. Suffering and dishonesty are absent from this world; death is not feared so much as embraced, though not morbidly so; there is no competition beyond that of friendly sport; education and progress reign supreme. I could continue with the goings on of this place, but I believe you already understand just how superior Ralucric is.


If this seems doubtful to you, as it once did to me, grant me one more incredulous detail before I prove my claims. Although this planet is unimaginably far from our own (I reiterate: it is empirically unknown to our best astronomers), it is not wholly absent from our lives. In fact, it is my understanding that nearly a third of our population visits this place on a daily basis. Our worlds are so closely connected in spirit (if I may use such an abstract term), that we are able to project ourselves there as we sleep. In short, a pleasant dream is likely the result of one's consciousness landing on the planet of Ralucric, and experiencing the pleasantries therein. It is, after all, a very similar planet to our own.


But enough of my fawning. I'm sure, at this point, you are simply itching for how I've come to know this place and my proof of its existence. In the interest of brevity, I will grant you just that.


Everything I've come to understand of Ralucric is explained in great detail within a book. This book was penned over many years by a collection of people who witnessed (in their sleep, of course) the interactions between humans and the Ralucric people. While I certainly cannot recount everything in this book, I will gladly cite its text as necessary to underscore my points. Before you object, please allow me to address the questions I also had at first, and frequently hear from skeptics:


How can you trust a book without knowing its authors?


How do we trust any book, or any source for that matter, without personal affiliation? When the evidence is sensible enough, we must trust that the author is not making blind claims. This book is one of the oldest texts in our history, and as such, must be treated as a historical document. It is not written as a novel or piece of fiction, and in the absence of any contradictory texts of similar origin, we are left to trust this book.


What actual proof is there of Ralucric?


It's impossible to physically prove something that is physically unobservable. But your body does not require proof. It is your consciousness that seeks "proof," and it is our consciousness that visits this place. If you needs to climb aboard a space vessel and step foot on Ralucric before accepting its existence, there are many celestial bodies you should start discounting.


Besides, the book answers our doubts in chapter 4, sentence 17: Believe in Ralucric, for it is written by those who know it best - those who have no doubts of their own.


So I should believe in Ralucric because the book says so, and I should believe the book because the book says so?


No. You should believe in Ralucric because the book explains it very clearly, and the book was written by people who understood Ralucric very well.


And what happens if I still don't believe?


You go on living your life as you have been: in the dark. But if you reject the book and the idea of Ralucric, you probably won't get to visit it at night. Therefore, you'll have nightmares as long as you live. The book explains this pretty obviously in chapter 6, sentence 225: If you do not believe in such a place as Ralucric, it shall be further from your heart and harder to visit in slumber. On the other hand, if you accept this place, you'll be able to go more often and have wonderful dreams.


So you only have good dreams, and now I will only have bad ones?


Not necessarily. It's a fact that humans have many more dreams than they remember each night. I will have more good dreams than bad, and vice versa for a nonbeliever, but what I remember may not accurately reflect this.


I guess that doesn't leave me much of an option. I should start believing in Ralucric.


Wonderful to have you aboard. If you'd like to join our nightly collective slumber, it's only a suggested donation of $20 per night.

on options

Let's play a game. 

I will give an overview of a religious icon--life events, associations, consequences--and you can try and guess whom I'm referring to. I'll try and give details that may sound familiar to you. Ready?

Icon A:

This bearded religious figure is often associated with being a shepherd. Although loved and revered after his death, many of his contemporaries were jealous and conspired against him. As a result, he was mutilated, tortured, and killed. Thankfully, by the grace of divinity, he was resurrected. After resurrection, he joined the heavens and remained as a symbol of divinity. He is assumed to pass judgment over his people and allow them entry into heaven, reject them and send them to eternal torture, or an in-between place where they must atone before entering heaven. It is also worth noting that there is a woman in this story who was supernaturally impregnated with the son of a god, and was thus viewed as a symbol of maternity, nurturing, and love.

To see who our mystery god is, click here!

Icon B: 

Like Icon A, this figure is bearded and robed, but is from a different culture. He was born of a virgin mortal woman who was made pregnant by the mightiest of gods. After dying, he was reincarnated by his father, the god. He is often associated with miracles and wine, notably when he turned water into wine for his followers. After claiming to be a god (or, at least, the son of one), he was put on trial before the state, as led by the state's ruler (a certain someone beginning with the letter "P"). After his death, he gained a devout following that introduced a sort of monotheism to a previously polytheistic culture.

To see who our second mystery god is, click here!

Icon C: 

This figure was born quite unnaturally, without any human conception, through the intervention of a god. He was born out in the wild, and his birth was attended by shepherds. His birthday is celebrated on December 25th. He became known as a symbol of redemption, able to absolve humanity of sins. The practice of baptism became associated with him, as a way of cleansing one's soul and being reborn. After taking part in a symbolic death, he ascended to heaven. Prior his ascent, he had a divine meal with his closest peers, composed of bread, meat, water, and wine - this scene is the most common artistic depiction of him.

To see who our second mystery god is, click here!

Unsurprisingly, many scholars claim that these religious icons influenced the Christian mythos. After all, there are certainly some common threads between these figures and Jesus Christ. I will freely admit there are discrepancies and, besides, some themes are simply commonplace among all religions. However, my intent is not to claim that Christianity is a "knock off" religion or that it is completely unoriginal. 

Instead, I simply want to note that there are religions with strikingly similar ideals, symbols, figures, and practices. With this in mind, I'd like to posit a question: 

Why Christianity? Why Judaism? Why Islam? Why Hinduism? 

Why are any of these religions more credible and believable in today's world than, say, Zeus and his Olympian contemporaries? Why has Egypt abandoned Ra? Why has the prehistoric practice of animal worship not caught on? At least animals can be seen and undisputed. We've gone from worshiping real creatures, to worshiping gods that represent real things and walk among us, to worshiping an abstract god who relies entirely upon our faith of him. It seems that the most popular and convincing religions are the ones that require the greatest suspension of disbelief.

So again, I ask: What makes one religion more believable than another? If aliens visited our planet and studied all of our religions from the dawn of man, what could they possibly see in one that another does not offer? Similarly, if a devout Christian of today were born into a religious family in third century India, would s/he not be just as devout toward Vishnu?  No religion has more intrinsic credence than any other. This includes the Church of Latter Day Saints and Scientology, by the way.

It also includes our noodly friend watching over us:

 

For posterity, I ask one final time: Why should Jesus Christ, or any religious figure, be chosen over the multitude of figures that preceded him? All religions have "historical texts." All religions include supernatural events that allegedly occurred. All religions have followers who unwaveringly believe that they are right and others are wrong. If history is any indication, then there will eventually be a new religion that somehow claims all other religions of the previous 2 million years were wrong.  

I would encourage any religious folk to ask themselves why they believe in their god or gods. Do they believe because they've made an honest and thorough investigation of all religions, and find theirs to be the most believable? Or is it simply how they were raised? 

on chance

What are the odds that Earth could sustain life?

You must have at least heard this question asked, if not asked it yourself. "What are the odds...? What are the chances...?" It's one of those questions that creationists tend to ask, especially since it's a bit of a loaded question. It makes Earth, as we know it, sound so improbable that it could not have happened without a conscious effort. Well, since we're asking the question, we might as well answer it:

One. Or, as a ratio,1:1. As a percent, 100%. In a word, "Yes."

That is to say, Earth was destined to become what it is today, and life as we know it could only have occurred as we know it. Given that Earth contained all the preconditions for carbon-based life, it's silly to call Earth's biosphere anything less than probable. All it took was our ozone layer (which only requires oxygen in the atmosphere [check] and solar radiation [check]) to shield us, and the rest is practically a matter of time. All the chemical components and atmospheric conditions were present. There really is nothing that stood in Earth's way from creating life.

The above link summarizes the Miller-Urey Experiment, wherein abiogenesis (that is, life forming from non-life) was essentially proven. It's really not a miracle. It's basic chemical compounds from primordial Earth--water, methane, ammonia and hydrogen--an electrical charge, and time. As observed in the write-up:

At the end of one week ... as much as 10-15% of the carbon within the system was now in the form of organic compounds. Two percent of the carbon had formed amino acids, including 13 of the 22 that are used to make proteins in living cells...The molecules produced were simple organic molecules, far from a complete living biochemical system, but the experiment established that the hypothetical processes could produce some building blocks of life without requiring life to synthesize them first.

 So there you have it. Given our planet's proximity to the sun, its inherent elements and compounds, and enough time, it shouldn't come as a surprise that life sprouted. If the universe were a casino, Earth would be the table to bet on.

But maybe that, itself, is the question. Perhaps when people ask "What are the odds...?" they mean to say, "What are the odds that our planet, amidst countless others in the universe, is one with life?" This question seems like a better argument for creationism, as the odds seem outrageously low. After all, what ARE the odds that any random planet will be satisfactorily close to a star, contain the right combination of chemicals, and undergo the proper atmospheric changes to create life? Unfortunately, there's no objective and accurate equation for such odds, but we can safely say that the percentage of planets capable of creating and sustaining life is extremely low. By many accounts, it is a fraction of a fraction of a percent.


However, the question is illogical. We are not actually asking "What are the odds of life on any one planet?" because Earth is not any one planet. Earth is Earth. If we were not Earth, we would not be here to ask the question. The question only exists because we exist, and therefore what we are really asking is, "What are the odds that I exist?" Do you see the circular logic at work, here? It's difficult to explain just how silly this question is, but I'll try to sum it up in a couple of sentences:


We cannot objectively question the odds of our own existence, for we already exist and can only question in retrospect. For every person who questions the odds, consider the theoretically infinite number of creatures who do not exist and therefore do not question. The only reason we wonder about our odds of existing is because we do, in fact, exist.


And that brings us back to the original answer:


The odds of us existing as we are today are a certainty, just as they would be for any other species questioning its existence. And the odds of Mars having no life, along with innumerable other lifeless planets, is a certainty. There are many more planets which are lifeless, to be sure, but by that very definition, there is no consciousness on those planets to question in the first place.

So before you cite Earth's intricate and seemingly miraculous biosphere as proof of a god, consider this: if every other planet had equally impressive and complex life, our odds of life wouldn't have changed at all. We'd still be us, and we'd still have formed life the same way. The only reason people view Earth as a miracle is because we compare ourselves to planets that are incomparable. Earth's (thus far) unique biosphere isn't evidence for creationism any more than a uniquely shaped rock is evidence for a rock-maker. Every planet and rock in the universe is different in its own way - our way just happens to be lively.

on zealotry

Please consider the following theoretical scenario:

Your mother has been deceased for as long as you've been alive. For sentimental value, let's say she died during childbirth. Although you never met her, you feel very connected to your mother and you honor her in a very loving and respectful fashion. From what you know of her, it seems that she was the perfect person and someone who deserved nothing but the best; her death was an utmost tragedy.

Now, let's say you are at work one day. A co-worker, whose parents were not on friendly terms with yours, criticizes that your mother was not as perfect as everyone says she was. You defend your mother and end up debating her virtues with this co-worker. One of his parting remarks is that your mother was a liar and died as one.

What do you do? Do you report this abuse to your boss, or do you simply ignore this person? Do you physically assault him/her in outrage? Do you go home and talk this over with your father?  Do you complain to other co-workers? Or do you kill this person? According to a Pakistani court, execution may not be unreasonable.

My theoretical scenario is under a slightly different pretense than a situation in Pakistan, but the differences are indeed slight. In the village of Itan Wali, a woman is on trial for crudely saying that Muhammad was a liar. Apparently, this was enough to invoke the wrath of her co-workers, neighbors, and the law. She is now on trial for blasphemy and, if convicted, will be hanged.

The town cleric responded to her death sentence, saying,

 "Tears of joy poured from my eyes."

Let me contextualize that: this man is crying tears of joy over the thought of a woman being killed for insulting his religion. He is overjoyed at the thought of someone being murdered for insulting his belief system.

Of everything I could say in response to this, I just want to revisit my original example. In my scenario, we have someone badmouthing your mother. It's insulting, inconsiderate, and likely (according to other sources) untrue. Your response depends upon your own values, but to call for the murder of this person would not only be overreacting - it would be ludicrous. No matter how rude or libelous a person is to you, killing them in return is not justice; it is psychotic.

So, returning to the story's actual context, we have a town who is prepared to kill a woman for insulting not them, not their families, not even a human being, but an abstract idea that they subscribe to. Even from their point of view--even from the perspective of someone who wholeheartedly worships a deity--murder is not an acceptable answer to a rude, off-handed comment. And if your god is the sort of deity who prefers non-believers to be slaughtered, then this is not a deity to be worshiped.

Let's ponder on that for a moment because I think it's a classic paradox in the whole "benevolent God" thing:

• How can we claim that God (at least the Jehova/Allah god) is benevolent, forgiving, and loving, while assuming he wants murderous revenge on non-believers?
• How can we claim that a religion preaches tolerance, acceptance, and forgiveness, while seeking murderous revenge on those that speak against it?
• How can we claim spiritual and moral superiority over non-believers, while said non-believers resort to words and we resort to executions?

There really is no justifiable answer. There isn't. No matter what you believe, you are the vessel of your own morality, and killing a woman over an insult, regardless of what she said, is immoral. It's beyond immoral... it's a sin.

on emptiness

In my years as an undergraduate, I had a professor who I particularly admired. She was creative, jubilant, passionate, and fiercely intelligent. I took as many classes as I could with her, and each time was a tremendous learning experience. She was impressive on so many fronts, with one tiny exception that remains a blemish in my otherwise idyllic image of her. In describing her spiritual outlook, she said something akin to the following (I'm paraphrasing in lieu of an eidetic memory) :

I called myself an atheist for a while; I was quite vocal about it. But after a while I just found it too boring. To think that there's nothing out there, and this is it? I needed something more.

At the time, being a little more undecided in my religious affinities and having a sort of schoolboy crush, I thought this was very reasonable. In a world with so many uncertainties, why not side with the more interesting possibilities? Perhaps I too would pursue something less "boring." But that time never really came, as I mulled over the idea and found it gradually less appealing.

One of the main reasons I can't subscribe to my professor's reasoning is the inherent logical fallacy at work. Before I point out the flaw, let me just say that I hate to reject her statement based on logic, since it wasn't a logical argument in the first place; it was an offhand comment about her exploration of that which she found interesting. I even agree! Theology is incredibly interesting. I do want to refute the logic behind her statement, however, because I do see it used by many people as their reason for being religious.

The fallacy: An idea being interesting or favorable does not, in any way, lend credibility to its argument. This is effectively a version of Pascal's Wager, which claims one should believe in Christianity so that one can go to Heaven. Similarly, the idea that spirituality is more interesting and uplifting than atheism seems to lead a lot people to religion. That's a nice sentiment, but it doesn't make God any more believable.

What if I told you about a Utopian land here on Earth? Call it what you will, but it is equal to or greater than your understanding of Heaven. The land is rich with every food and crop known to man, and people are never hungry. Everyone is born a genius, and work is split evenly among all people. No one feels jealousy or resentment, and only kind words are ever spoken. People know only love and mistakes are unheard of. It is perfection for perfection's sake.

As wonderful as this land may sound, you could not believe such a place exists on Earth. In fact, the more wonderful it sounds, the more skeptical someone is likely to be. In realistic terms, something is not believable simply because it is pleasing. By these standards, why should a man believe in Heaven? Why should a woman believe that an omniscient being is watching over us? There are many reasons one can argue for spirituality, and I accept that one's interest in an idea can lead to a pursuit of it. However, I can't accept an idea's favorability as reason for its credibility.

I originally wanted to include "Nicolas Cage stops making terrible movies," but I ran out of room on the right.

But all this aside, I want to refute the very notion that atheism is boring. Anyone who claims that the lack of a sentient creator is dull, depressing, or a dead-end should look into just how marvelous a godless universe is. To think that all elements of our universe have become the way they are without a designer, that circumstance alone had set off a chain of events to create what we have now, is wildly fascinating. I'll need another blog post, on a day when I'm feeling decidedly more scientific, to elaborate on how a godless universe is truly awesome. For now, I'll just refer to an age-old argument that is usually cited as "proof" of a creator:

The watchmaker argument (or "argument by design") states that upon seeing a watch or other complicated human invention, one recognizes that the invention must have an inventor. It follows that the infinitely complicated universe must also have an inventor. Faulty logic aside, I would like to posit that this is a great argument for why an atheistic universe is so fascinating. When considering how complex and brilliant our universe is, it's far more interesting to believe there was no designer, no inventor. A watch without a maker is, as far as I'm concerned, very far from boring.

...out of the machine

Before I go off on any tangents, I should probably elaborate on my suitably pretentious blog title†. It's not exactly cryptic -- I assume many people are familiar with the term deus ex machina. However, my vague logic behind the title could use some explanation. Being a blog that is first and foremost concerned with atheism--a strange idea in itself, that one can be devoted to asserting the non-existence of something--I felt it was appropriate for my title to have the absence of God.


For those unaware, the phrase deus ex machina literally translates to "God from [or 'out of'] the machine." It was coined to describe the mechanism in theater that lowered a god-like figure onto the stage, who would subsequently resolve all problems for the story's protagonists. As a result, the phrase evolved into a general literary device wherein a story's conflict is resolved at the last minute and a little too conveniently. No matter how the phrase is used, though, its roots remain in its literal interpretation: all problems are fixed by a god.


What I particularly like about the phrase is its allegorical implications. One would think that a play should always be able to come upon a resolution naturally and seamlessly. However, plays are about people, and people (in the real world) do not always have convenient answers to their problems. Indeed, the world is full of questions, conflicts, and misfortune. A deus ex machina is not a departure from reality (however unrealistic it may seem), because it's an accurate reflection of human conflict's inability to solve itself. The use of a god in dramatic literature is a great way of showing just how incapable people can be in resolving their conflict; it shows that a supernatural power would be the only way to have a happy ending at times. God, despite being the answer, is not the point. The point is to illustrate people's dependency on an outside power/force.


Another interesting point is the notion of a "machine." While the alleged god did most definitely come down from a mechanical pulley in the phrase's origin, I'm much more partial to a societal machine. That is, the proverbial mechanism of creation and sustenance we give to our ideas. Richard Dawkins coined the term meme in reference to the acceptance of ideas through cultural reiteration. Say something enough times and with enough assertion, and eventually people will have no choice but to listen. In this way, God (along with all human concepts) is essentially born of a machine... a process of repetition and reaffirmation from the collective. Just like in theater, wherein a deity is lowered onto the stage out of necessity for the story's resolution, a deity is manufactured in our hearts out of perceived necessity to our own resolutions. I know I sound awfully condemning here, and I don't mean to be. If anything, I revel at how accurate the phrase is beyond the stage.


So if the phrase in its entirety is appealing, why take out the deus -- the god? I'm afraid my reasoning behind that is less than eloquent. Simply put, taking out the god seems fitting for an exploration of God's non-existence. Moreover, I wanted to emphasize the "machine" more than what comes out of it. After all, it's easier to examine something tangible, measurable, and real. Finally, and I admit this is a silly reason, the phrase in its entirety is overused and cliché. Every overzealous liberal arts major has used the phrase in a term paper, and I'm already bordering on pseudo-intellectual by using Latin in the first place. Therefore, Ex Machina it is. Besides, doesn't it just sound cool?




† A foreword on pretension: In trying to write cleverly on matters of importance, I'm nearly certain that I'll sound pretentious at points. I apologize if anything I write comes across as snobbery, elitism, or intellectual masturbation. I assure you that is not my intent, possibly excluding the latter. I do not claim to know more than I do, and I revel in my ignorance. However, I am qualified to post intellectual fodder and I encourage you to do the same via comments.