Author Archives: jbernal

Space Aliens and Moral Truth – 3

John sets the scene for his argument for objective Moral Truth – 3

Juan, indulge me in a brief fantasy requiring that you imagine the following:

(1) The Nazis won the war, used atomic weapons to conquer the rest of the world, and imposed a rigid set of laws which included the death penalty for Jews, homosexuals, outspoken philosophers, and a few other pesky groups.

(2) A highly intelligent space visitor (not human, but very evolved) observed the Earth and these quaint traits. In his report to his superiors he must check off the level of moral development of the Earth’s culture. The scale was an advanced variation of Kohlberg’s scale, ranking from low, to various degrees of medium, high, or Ideal. What would be an intelligent basis for that highest level of evaluation? Is there a rational foundation for a trans-cultural or even a trans-species moral code? Does Kant’s Moral Law qualify for that role?

I propose that there is a correct point of view about ideal conduct, and that Plato was a bold explorer who showed the path to later thinkers like Kant who discovered (NB, not invented) the Moral Law. Yes, we find the Golden Rule present in some early human cultures, and as an ideal it was a remarkable advance for civilization, but it was not formulated with the depth of thought given to it by Kant. My imagination allows me to think that there will be advances and developments in the future on some of Kant’s insights, but he had the correct idea of the Moral Law. What I read (and perhaps it is an inaccurate understanding) in your words is that there isn’t much sense in saying that there is a correct point of view independent of human critters. Would you continue to maintain that position if we do discover and have contact with more advanced species in the future, in a galaxy not too far away? Would it surprise you if the most advanced species held a belief in Kant’s Moral Law?
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My reply-3:

John, you pose a number questions some of which I may not be able to answer (you really have me up against the wall, right?); but I’ll try to deal with them. I might just reject some of them as based on faulty assumptions, but let’s see what we can do with them.

I don’t have any way of knowing what the intelligent space visitor would say about the situation you outline, since I have no idea what kind of morality his kind would have evolved. Maybe he would not see any moral implication in rigid Nazi laws imposed on minorities. But you assume that he would have some moral beliefs similar to ours and would rank cultures in terms of moral development. Given this assumption and allowing that our alien visitor recognized moral values similar to ours, I imagine that he would rank the moral situation as a very bad one; but I haven’t the least idea how to answer your questions (What would be an intelligent basis for that highest level of evaluation? Is there a rational foundation for a trans-cultural or even a trans-species moral code?). Our space visitor might have some intelligent basis and a rational foundation for his moral judgments; but how can I say? I doubt that this alien space would appeal to Kant’s moral law. (I have good reasons for this doubt, but that would take us too far afield at this time.)

A real world situation similar to the imagined one you present actually can be found in our history: Western Nations’ treatment of the new world natives. Their cultures, religions, moral beliefs and practices were destroyed by the European invaders. Then the European invaders justified this murder and destruction on the basis of a perceived moral-religious superiority. The survivors were treated badly, their needs and interests ignored or even rejected; and this was quite acceptable from the Western point of view, some of which was supported and defended by Western philosophers as morally acceptable. How would an intelligent, morally developed visitor rate that moral situation? I submit that he would give Western humans a very low rating. And he would probably have an intelligent, rational basis for his judgment — not Kant’s moral law and surely not a vision of Plato’s form of the good! Maybe it would simply be a judgment rooted in what experience teaches regarding the optimum development of sentient, intelligent creatures: respect for the lives and dignity of other sentient, intelligent creatures. Who knows?

Since I’m not as impressed by Kant’s moral theory as you are (there are many problems when one tries to apply his “moral law” to real world moral situations), I don’t accept your statement as the Golden Rule was not developed with the “depth of thought” that Kant’s moral law enjoys. How can you say what “depth of thought” went into the development and application of the Golden Rule? In terms of an expression of the value of human justice, the Golden Rule (stated in negative terms) is a far better statement than Kant’s law, especially when we consider his claim that violation of the law implies a contradiction, and thus implies that immorality always involves a contradiction. We have no reason for holding that morality and rationality always work together this way.

The notion that there’s a “correct point of view (regarding morality) independent of all critters” strikes me as a hangover from the idea that God is the ground for moral good and the idea of moral knowledge as that which would be manifested in God’s eye-view of the Truth. This is that age-old hunger for a transcendent basis for morality. There are many problems with this perspective of which I’ll mention only two:
1) we have absolutely no basis for thinking that there really is any such thing (neither Kant’s moral law nor Plato’s form of the good will do).
2) Even if you found such transcendent reality, it is hard to see what relevance it would have on human moral beliefs, moral judgment, and moral behavior.

Moral good is not a form of knowledge, not even a putative knowledge of a transcendent moral reality. A good part of what we understand by “moral good” is manifested in the certain behavior and the development of certain character; and the expression of certain values and judgment. It is manifested in the context of not knowing some putative transcendent truth. There are a number (probably a large number) of morally good people in many places; but there is no evidence that anyone really has knowledge of some transcendent moral truth. Some people (including some philosophers) believe they have this type of knowledge and claim they do; but this is just what they claim; it is not anything they can make good.

Speculation as to the possibility that a morally superior culture of a remote galaxy would have discovered Kant’s moral law might have some value as a thought experiment. Yes, I would be shocked if that were so; since I don’t think that Kant’s law is something that can ever be discovered. I seriously doubt that Kant discovered anything. He came up with a ‘theory’ of morality or a way of thinking about morality. This has been given a place of honor in Western philosophy; he had some good insights on a few aspects of morality. But I don’t agree with your characterization of him or of Plato as bold explorers and the implied suggestion that they discovered something of high importance. They were just humans trying to work out some problems and coming up with their ‘solutions.’ But in both cases, their so-called solutions have limited value.

Genocide, Nazi ‘morality’ and Moral Truth 1-2

Recently I had an interesting three-part correspondence with a philosopher (call him “John”) who argues that morality, as developed by Kantian ethics, is an objective reality. Here I present the first set of correspondence. Parts 2 and 3 are titled “Space Aliens and Moral Truth – 2″ and “Space Aliens and Moral Truth – 3.”

John started things rolling by posing three questions, which I tried to answer as well as I could.

John – 1: his request:

A few questions for our group to consider, as we ponder if there is a correct point of view about ethical matters. The answers given may help us understand each other.

(1) Is genocide morally wrong?

(2) If so, why?

(3) What makes you think so?
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My first reply:

John, I’m not sure what type of answers you seek. “A correct point of view” about ethical matters is somewhat vague. Are you suggesting that we have moral knowledge? Are you suggesting that there’s a correct theory of ethics? Or are you merely suggesting that we hold certain moral beliefs and apply certain moral values which we hold unconditionally? Depending on what we understand by “correct point of view,” my pondering would adjust accordingly.

Your questions:
(1) Is genocide morally wrong? –

Yes, of course. If genocide were not morally wrong, what would be morally wrong?

(2) If so, why? –

What are my reasons? Well, try these: the Golden Rule: Don’t do to others (or other groups) what you would not want done to you (or to your group). In addition, try this one: As a conscientious human being I recognize that others are human much like me, with similar needs, interests, desires, and right to live. Given this working ‘principle,’ I find the mass killing of other humans to be not just morally wrong, but a criminally monstrous thing to do.

(3) What makes you think so?

Do you mean, what causes me to take such a position? What sources and path led me to this type of thinking? – Obviously, for most of us it would be our training and education. Parents, family, teachers, friends, our church, synagogue or mosque, our experiences etc. etc. brought us to have such believes and behave accordingly. In some very rare cases, reading or study of philosophy. In less rare cases, reading and study of literature, history, and maybe even works in the sciences.
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John -2

Your answers give me the impression that you do at present think that genocide is morally wrong, but the reasons for your belief indicate that if your training had been different you can imagine not holding that view. This position might be supported by the evidence that many Germans were willing to practice genocide during WW II. Do you believe that their view was just as correct as your present view about this issue, or is there no correct point of view? Let me put this in a different form: Is genocide REALLY wrong, or is that just the opinion you presently hold because of your training? If it is not just the result of conditioning, then what other source can you find to support the notion that genocide is
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My second reply:

John, what are the limits when we start playing the game of imagining what one would think or how one would behave had he been raised in a completely different environment and with completely different training-conditioning? You asked how I came to believe that genocide is immoral and I tried to give an honest answer. When we discuss the road we took to where we are, are we also discussing the reasons for an against our being there? I don’t think so. My answer to your second question should have indicated that if anything is morally wrong without qualification, it is genocide. I think the same about torture and abuse of children. Can I imagine being raised in a culture in which ‘I’ would think otherwise? Well, I suppose we can imagine many things. But I don’t know what the implications for ethics are. I’m not even sure you can say that the individual raised in a completely different culture and under completely different conditions would be the same individual. What are the limits of our imagination?

I’m not sure how much you’re pinning on the proposition: Genocide is really wrong. I surely think that genocide is wrong without qualification. The rule against genocide would seem to be one of those moral absolutes that philosophers talk about.

No, I don’t believe that those Germans (mostly Nazi) who believed that genocide was acceptable, even commendable, were correct. Simply stated, they denied that the victims of genocide (mainly the Jews) had a right to life. Their actions were a complete rejection of moral values and principles that I try to uphold. One could also build Utilitarian arguments for the claim that they were wrong. The fact that their training and conditioning led them to think as they did, different from the way my training and conditioning led me, does not imply that we must become extreme relativists and admit that —- under certain circumstances —- genocide would be morally acceptable. At least this is true if we’re still talking about “human circumstances.” But I don’t know the rules of the game which asks that we imagine how the world would have differed under a completely different set of conditions.

You also suggest a false dichotomy when you ask ” Is genocide REALLY wrong, or is that just the opinion you presently hold because of your training?” If you’re suggesting that the meaning of “really wrong” requires something like Kant’s categorical imperative or one of Plato’s forms and the philosophical idea that there are points of moral reality (independent of what any human society might hold) and unquestionable moral knowledge, then I would reject your notion of something being “really wrong in moral terms.” But this would not imply that I hold to a subjectivist, extreme relativism that one’s rejection of genocide as morally acceptable is just the opinion I happen to hold because of my training.

My history, conditioning, and training may explain how I came to my moral beliefs. There are no alternative “sources.” But the issue of justification of those beliefs turns our attention to the moral values and the principles (e.g. The Golden Rule) I try to apply. Here we talk about ethics, moral philosophy and the reasoning (arguments) that one can bring to bear.

I see absolutely no problem with the judgment that genocide is really wrong and the naturalist view that our morality is human-based in every respect; i.e., with the view that one can hold to some unconditional moral imperatives (e.g. contra genocide, contra child torture) and yet hold that our moral values emerge from our nature as evolved beings who invented culture, including moral culture. But saying more on this would take us into another story.

Is Philosophy a Footnote to Plato?

Spanos states his case:

In your essay, “Is Platonism the model for philosophy?” (in this blog) you put “the question of Platonism”: Is philosophy (in general) a form of Platonism (or as Whitehead said, “a series of footnotes to Plato”)? You also quoted Whitehead’s famous statement in full:

“The safest general characterization of the European philosophical tradition is that it consists of a series of footnotes to Plato.”

You overlooked a few things. First, a characterization of the European philosophical tradition is not necessarily a characterization of philosophy in general. Second, footnotes to Plato do not have to reflect agreement with Plato’s philosophy. Finally, the “safest general characterization” is not necessarily a completely safe general characterization. These oversights could lead to a straw man argument against Whitehead.

I’m not sure what exactly Whitehead had in mind. According to my best guess, he was thinking that the central theme running through the history of European philosophy from Plato to the present is realism. Most European philosophers have assumed one form or another of realism. In other words, they have assumed that reality has a structure that can be captured in language or represented in terms of the categories that form the basic structural units of language. But there have always been dissenters to this view, and it was the central issue throughout the history of medieval philosophy. Duns Scotus was a particularly noteworthy defender of realism, while William of Occam was an extremely influential dissenter. The twentieth century debate between Einstein and Bohr over the interpretation of quantum experiments is one of those footnotes to Plato in which Einstein insisted on a realist position while Bohr took a rather ambiguous position that smacked of anti-realism (e.g. instrumentalism or pragmatism). At the turn of the century, of course, anti-realism was well represented by Richard Rorty and his fellow post-modernists. Meanwhile, realists were spread out over a range that included both transcendental and materialist versions.
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My reply:

I also ask: What exactly did Whitehead mean by his statement that we can characterize European philosophy as a series of footnotes to Plato? To me this surely suggests that the old metaphysician, Whitehead, was asserting that we can look at European philosophy as a continuation of Plato’s philosophy. After all, what is a mere footnote to the main thesis? It is just a footnote and does not question or reject the main thesis. So now ask yourself, can we characterize the philosophies of the many ‘philosophers’ who are found in the European stream of philosophy as just elaborations on Plato’s philosophy? I submit that the obvious answer is a negative one. Not even the work Plato’s student, Aristotle, who went on to develop his own philosophy, can meaningfully be characterized as a mere footnote to Plato. The same can be said for a large set of philosophers in the European stream.

The fact that the issue of ‘realism’ (e.g. the issue of the status of universals) is an issue that occupied many of those philosophers does not show that their work is just a “footnote to Plato” or a continuation of Platonism. As I tried to show you in an earlier email, and as you seem to have forgotten, there’s much more to Platonism that just preoccupation with the metaphysical issue of ‘realism.’ Affirming that ” that reality has a structure that can be captured in language or represented in terms of the categories that form the basic structural units of language” does not make one a Platonist and does not affirm Plato’s philosophy. At most it shows one point of similarity in very different philosophies.

At best, Whitehead’s famous remark can be taken as a figurative way of saying that many philosophers in the European tradition proceed in somewhat of a spirit of Plato. But his figurative language is surely more misleading than insightful, even when taken as a metaphor.
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Spanos comes back:

This is a problem in hermeneutics! A key principle of hermeneutics is the principle of charity. It applies to situations where we must choose between different possible interpretations of a text. It requires that we choose the interpretation that seems most reasonable or most defensible. You seem to me to have chosen an interpretation that is not very reasonable and not very defensible. We should always try to give the writer we are interpreting as much credit as we can within the constraints of the language he or she uses.

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My reply:
Principle of charity, huh? Just how charitable do we have to be? Carried far enough, the principle of charity would excuse any foolishness that a writer asserts, especially when the writer is a respected professor of philosophy. And your qualifier surely calls for clarification: “as much credit as we can within the constraints of the language he chose to use.” Exactly how do you determine these “constraints” if you’re not to read what is written as meaning what is written, but go out looking for a charitable interpretation to rescue those writers you favor?

Apparently you were applying this principle of charity when you interpret Whitehead’s remark on “philosophy as a footnote to Plato” as just referring to the fact that a number (and only a minority, really) of European philosophers have been preoccupied with the problem of ‘realism’ (“realism” in the sense that universals and general categories have real, independent existence). You might think this is just the principle of charity (oh, that grand “hermeneutics”!) applied. But it strikes me — as I’m sure it strikes many people — as a case of reading into the text what you want to find there. This is similar to a case of the President’s press secretary telling reporters what the President really meant to say when he committed some blooper or other.

Look man, if I tell you that ‘B’ is just a footnote to ‘A’, I’m surely implying that at best ‘B’ is just commentary or clarification of the main thesis ‘A’; if one is using these words in a figurative sense to say something about how we who indulge in the activity of philosophy are in a sense children of Plato, then one should signal more clearly that this figurative language is not to taken too seriously. But this special interpretation would be just that, a special interpretation. It flies in the face of a fact of our linguistic behavior: we use such expression to elevate the main thesis ‘A’ at the expense of ‘B’.

At any rate, even on your charitable interpretation of the Whitehead statement (philosophers are children of Plato), there are great problems with the amended statement about footnotes and Plato; and it is an amended statement, not a case of charitable interpretation at all.

(When in doubt invoke the principles of textual interpretation and that ugly word, “hermeneutics.”)

Do we perceive real things, or just our representations of them?

First Part: Spanos presents his case challenging the naïve view that we perceive real things as they really are.

I’ll put my questions in the context of a story told by Leonard Mlodinow and Stephen Hawking in “The Grand Design“:

A FEW YEARS AGO the city council of Monza, Italy, barred pet owners from keeping goldfish in curved goldfish bowls. The measure’s sponsor explained the measure in part by saying that it is cruel to keep a fish in a bowl with curved sides because, gazing out, the fish would have a distorted view of reality.

This raises an interesting question. Do the curved sides of the bowl distort the fishes’ view of reality? Would they, under normal circumstances, have an undistorted view of reality? The Mlodinow/Hawking response to this is equally interesting. They chide the sponsors of the measure for assuming that our own view of reality is undistorted.

But how do we know we have the true, undistorted picture of reality? Might not we ourselves also be inside some big goldfish bowl and have our vision distorted by an enormous lens? The goldfish’s picture of reality is different from ours, but can we be sure it is less real?

The point made by Mlodinow and Hawking is that it doesn’t make any practical difference to the fish whether the bowl is curved or straight. In either case they adapt their responses to appearances. What does make a difference is whether their responses work. In order to make their responses work, they do not need a true, undistorted picture of reality. All they need is a reliably consistent picture of reality. And evolution has given them the ability to produce such a picture. Evolution has even given them the ability to adapt their responses to changes in appearances such as would be caused by putting them in a fish bowl with curved sides.

In the light of such considerations, I’m not sure how to interpret what some people claim: namely that there is no distortion of reality taking place. For example, a colleague argued that

“if we (or other creatures) didn’t actually perceive objects (‘things’ to use your term) as they really are, we would not have survived this long in the evolutionary process. Yes, misperceptions (faulty interpretations) often occur but rarely as often as you seem to imply in the above quote. Our perceptions rarely lie to us.”

Spanos continues: Must we assume that we wouldn’t be able to survive without a true, undistorted picture of reality? If fish can survive without it, why can’t we? It’s true that our perceptions rarely lie to us. But what do they tell us? Do they tell us what reality really is, or do they only tell us whether the current situation is one that requires a particular kind of response? Perhaps the lie, if there really is one, is the lie we tell ourselves when we assume that we have a true, undistorted picture of reality.

But it’s not a lie if we only mean that we have a generally true, undistorted picture of empirical reality. (By “empirical reality” I mean “the way things appear to us.”) It’s only a lie if we mean that we have a true, undistorted picture of transcendental reality. Here is Kant’s definition of “transcendental.”

“certain of our cognitions rise completely above the sphere of all possible experience, and by means of conceptions to which there exists in the whole of experience no corresponding object, seem to extend the range of our judgments beyond its bounds. And just in this transcendental or supersensible sphere, where experience affords us neither instruction nor guidance, lie the investigations of reason, which on account of their importance, we consider far preferable to, and as having a far more elevated aim, than all that the understanding can achieve within the realm of sensuous phenomena.”

Prominent among these cognitions that “rise completely above all possible experience” are the concepts of reality and truth. We feel the pressure of these cognitions whenever we are aware of our own fallibility. I don’t think fish have these cognitions, and it is a mystery why we have them.

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Second Part: My slightly annoyed reply:

You want for us to accept the proposition that we can talk about a “true, undistorted picture of transcendental reality,” which is different from “empirical reality” and which we don’t experience at all? The true, objective reality is not something we perceive or with which we can interact with it. But is this really what Kant holds? With Kant it is never clear, for he seems to say that “transcendental reality” is the “investigation of reason.” Assuming this is human reason, does he allow that humans have “rational access” to this “transcendental realm?

Moreover, there’s ambiguity in the description of “empirical reality.” On the one hand, Kant seems to admit that reality that we ordinarily, naturally experience (the reality explored by the sciences); we are told that this is “reality as it appears to us.” But reality as it appears to me does not imply that my perception fails to inform me about the real world. For although reality-as-it-appears-to-me might differ a bit from things-as-they- really-are, it can be corrected by scientific investigation, by careful analysis and relevant investigations, by corrective lenses (i.e., eyeglasses), etc.; this gives us a distinction between “reality as it appears to us” and “a corrected version (or reality at a different level of analysis) of reality.” Both are accessible to human experience, insofar as we allow that experience to be ‘extended’ by the instruments of science, rational inquiry and analysis, technology, and so on. This common-sense distinction has nothing to do with the distinction between the world accessible to human inquiry and a ‘transcendental reality.’

At any rate, all this talk of “transcendental reality” distinct from “empirical reality” (the reality investigated by science and experienced by humans) is suspect, to say the least, unless you happen to be a Kantian or believer in transcendence of some kind.

Here’s what Richard Rorty writes concerning this distinction between “empirical reality” and “transcendental reality.”

The antirepresentationalism common to Putnam and Davidson insists, by contrast, that the notion of “theory-independent and language-independent matter-of-factual relationships” begs all the questions at issue. For this notion brings back the very representationalist picture from which we need to escape. With William James, both philosophers refuse to contrast the world with what the world is known as, since such a contrast suggests that we have somehow done what Nagel calls “climbing out of our own minds.” They do not accept the Cartesian-Kantian picture presupposed by the idea of “our minds” or “our language” as an “inside” which can be contrasted to something (perhaps something very different) “outside.” From a Darwinian point of view, there is simply no way to give sense to the idea of our minds or language as systematically out of phase with what lies beyond our skins.

I also have great trouble accepting the claim by some people that they can “climb out of their minds” to the realm of the transcendent (whether this is a philosophical, metaphysical, or mystical claim); hence, I stand with the thinking of Richard Rorty, John Dewey, William James, Hilary Putnam and Donald Davidson on this issue.

The fish-bowl analogy cited by Spanos (gotten from Hawking-Mlodinow book) is interesting, but misleading insofar as it perpetuates the inside-outside model of human experience: we are ‘inside’ looking through a lense (or window, as Spanos suggested in a previous discussion) which distorts the real nature of the ‘outside.’ There is not much of a compelling argument for this model. And the fish-bowl analogy does not offer much of a new insight to this age-old issue.

(But maybe I’m just blind and need those corrective lenses that Dr. Kant provides.)

“In God We Trust” – Really?

According to a December 6, 2010 Press Release by Americans United for Separation of Church and State (AU) , members of the Congressional Prayer Caucus have criticized President Barack Obama for telling an audience in Indonesia last month that the phrase “E Pluribus Unum” is a good summary of the American experience.

The Prayer Caucus, led by U.S. Rep. Randy Forbes (R-Va.), wrote to Obama complaining that he called “E Pluribus Unum” the national motto during a Nov. 10 speech at a university in Jakarta.

The national motto, the caucus insists, is actually “In God We Trust.”

AU pointed out that “E Pluribus Unum” appears on the Great Seal of the United States, which was codified in 1782, and the phrase is still used on coinage. In citing it, Obama was trying to make the point that even though Americans are of diverse backgrounds, they have joined together as one nation.

Rev. Barry W. Lynn, executive director of Americans United for Separation of Church and state was quoted as saying:

“This is one of the silliest manufactured controversies I’ve ever seen, and I would advise the president to deal with it by tossing the caucus’ letter into the nearest wastebasket.”

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Yes, the Prayer Caucus’ letter is a waste of time and should be thrown in the trash bin. But we can imagine some other interesting responses that we might make to U.S. Rep. Randy Forbes and his Prayer Caucus. We could ask exactly what do they understand by the motto “In God We Trust.” If I trust in God, do I let things work their own way instead of working to see to it that things get done right? Does this mean that the U.S. should really act on the belief that God takes care of everything? Does it mean that we can sit back and rely on God? Does this mean that we no longer need to spend billions upon billions on military defense of our nation? In God we Trust! Does this mean that the U.S. should no longer take on foreign projects, such as our wars on terrorism in Iraq and Afghanistan? Trust that God will take care of problems there too! Does it mean that members of Congress will no longer work to protect the interests of their wealthy sponsors, since God will care them too? Does it mean that our country does not need to concern itself with diminishing natural resources, with industrial damage to the environment, and with the prospect of Global warming? Trust in God; and God takes care of everything.
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Suppose that two people are working hard to alleviate suffering. One trusts in God and the other, an agnostic, does not. But they choose to remain silent about their philosophies; and the believer has no time to pray. How could we identify the trust-in-God person? Tell us, Representative Forbes, how would we distinguish one from the other. And what difference to could it possibly make to their work to alleviate suffering?

Doubts about Mysticism as basis for Knowledge, Morality, or Spirituality

(A philosophical acquaintance, Pablo, and I had a discussion touching on mysticism and morality. He had been complaining that secular humanism is too quick to dismiss mysticism as a likely source of knowledge and value.)

Pablo: (started by relating a few lines by Richard Jefferies in which the atheistic poet describes a mystical experience):
“…there is an existence, a something higher than soul – higher, better, and more perfect than deity. Earnestly I pray to find this something better than a god. There is something superior, higher, more good. . ..”

Moi: It should not surprise us that an atheist expresses such feelings if we keep in mind that, just as there are many different kinds of theists and believers, there are also many different kinds of atheists. Among non-believers there are some who have mystical experiences and desire to make the transcendental leap to the “other world,” while rejecting the prevailing or popular images of the deity. The significant philosophical question is: What are we to make of these experiences and the associated longing for the ‘transcendental’?

Pablo: “….mysticism can be best understood and defined by a simple tabulation of characteristics commonly associated with mystical experiences. Often called an analytic definition….”
(He lists several characteristics that purport to define mysticism. Each is followed by my remarks and questions.)

Pablo: Mysticism is characterized by an Ineffability – The inability to express in human words or concepts.

Moi: Does this refer to the great difficulty people have when they try to describe the mystical experience? Does this mean that ordinary language and intuitive concepts fail completely when a mystic tries to describe the experience? Given the great amount of mystical literature available, apparently many mystics have had much to say about their experiences; they must be capable of describing something. Does this disqualify their experiences as mystical experiences?

Pablo: Next there is a cognitive (noetic) quality which supplies us with some non-scientific information about some part (or all) of reality.

Moi: Of course, this is the mystic’s subjective feeling that the experience discloses something about reality or his feeling that he is immediately aware of some indescribable reality. We cannot simply define the experience as actually supplying the mystic with “non-scientific information about some part of reality.” This would simply beg the philosophical question regarding the nature of these experiences.

Pablo: A third characteristic is the experience of Oneness with the world, which eliminates the thought or feeling that we are distinct from the rest of the world; we are one with the object of our thought.

Moi: Again, as with the previous characteristic, we should note that this is the mystic’s feeling or experience that he is one with the object of the experience. Surely, the definition cannot simply affirm that the mystic actually is one with the object of his thought. Furthermore, some mystics have mystical experiences that do not involve this feeling of oneness with all reality. Are such experiences to be rejected as being mystical experiences?

Pablo: Mystical experiences have some natural or supernatural referent. There is always some object or referent of our mystical state which could be Nature, God (or the Godhead), Being (Existence).

Moi: I am very suspicious of the assertion that these experiences always have some object or referent, natural or supernatural. This implies that there is more here than just an extraordinary experience, that it is an experience of something which is real. Of course, the analogy is with perceptual experience, which generally is experience of something in the objective world. But this analogy is very misleading here.

(I’ll accept Pablo’s characteristics of mystical experiences as a working definition of mysticism. But this is just a way of getting the discussion started; at this point the concept of ‘mysticism’ is still very much at issue, since our “definition” raises as many questions as it answers.

Pablo then proceeded to state that “…these experiences have often become the basis for a strong moral code most commonly absorbed by the religion of the cultural milieu.”

Moi: I am very puzzled by this claim: mystical experiences (of the sort identified by our stated characteristics) are the basis for a moral code(?). This cries out for explanation. Do we have some clear examples from history? Which moral codes? Which mystics? The Jewish Bible tells us that Moses had some sort of experience on the mountain and came down with the stone tablets listing the Ten Commandments. Did he have a mystical experience? What evidence is there for thinking he had a mystical experience? The Jewish Scripture tells of the Hebrew prophets experienced visions, dreams, communications with Yahweh. They were great moral leaders and moral teachers for the Hebrews. Did they have mystical experiences of the sort defined above, and did the experience form the basis for their moral codes? Again, what grounds do we have for such an interpretation? (Walter Kaufmann argues that the prophets had experiences of inspiration, rather than mystical experiences.) Of course, a famous religious experience in Christian history is Paul’s conversion experience on the road to Damascus, which resulted in his becoming the great missionary and organizer for early Christianity. But I doubt that his experience would count as a mystical experience as defined above. Furthermore, there is no reason for thinking that his experience was the basis for a strong moral code. It became the basis for Paul’s concept of faith in the resurrected Christ, the highest imperatives for Christian faith; but not in any clear sense a strong moral code.

Pablo: continues: “….some scholars have thought the mystical elements of life the most important aspect of the spiritual life, a view I share.”

Moi: Much here needs clarification. What are the “mystical elements of life”? Are you talking about a life that includes mystical experiences? Or do you mean simply a mystical way of looking at life, one that involves mystical ideas and values: the oneness of reality, the insignificance of material, corporeal existence, and such? Hopefully, you’re not contending that in order to have a genuine spiritual life one must be a mystic. This simply would eliminate too many people from ‘spiritual life,’ people who are (were) not mystics but were excellent in other “spiritual ways.”

Referring to the object of the mystical experience, Pablo mentioned “the Godhead, the Immanent God, the God within”

Moi: Can we non-mystics really make any sense of these notions? As with the notion of the subject’s identification with God, I doubt that anyone really knows what they’re talking about when they mention such notions as the ‘Godhead’ or the ‘God within.’ Here we really are blind men looking for a black cat in a darkened room.

Pablo: (some additional comments): “Moses and some of the early prophets may have been mystically inclined (and maybe even Jesus himself)”

Moi: Again we need some explanation. What is it to be mystically inclined? Is it to have mystical experiences? Certainly these Biblical figures had religious experiences of some kind, but I don’t have any evidence for saying they had mystical experiences of the kind defined above.

Pablo: (After noting that mysticism is more prevalent and more accepted in Asian cultures than in the western cultures) “Unfortunately, we don’t find much support for mysticism today in any aspects of our culture. Many think mysticism the antithesis of the methodology and results of science. Since mysticism is a more intuitive, subjective, personal and intimate human experience, it has been shunned by scientists in general as a way of getting at the truth. And, perhaps, there is some justification for this, since the scientific method …. would be inconsistent with the noetic (cognitive) claims of mysticism.”

Moi: Pablo reluctantly concedes that perhaps there may be some justification for scientists’ rejection of mysticism as a source of knowledge. But our problem is not simply that there is inconsistency between the methods of science and the claims of the mystic. Our problem is that, if you grant epistemic legitimacy to the claims of the mystics, you admit a purely subjective experience as a basis for knowledge of a reality not accessible to ordinary experience, not subject to scientific investigation or to rational inquiry. When the subjective experience of the mystic is the sole criterion for “knowledge,” you open the gates and let in a wild, woolly and crazy world. How many different kinds of “mystical truths” and “mystical realities” would we have to accept?

Pablo then conceded that perhaps mysticism does not give us new knowledge about the external, natural world but gives us knowledge “..about morality; how we ought to be and behave in this world. As the philosopher Theodore Webb has said: “Mysticism is not a rejection of science, but a transcendence of it.” There need be no contradiction here since they appear to deal with different aspects of our existence.” (* My italicizing of the text, not Pablo’s or Webb’s.)

Moi: These comments provoke more questions and critical rejoinders. How do mystical experiences yield knowledge of morality? For example, are there any clear cases in which a mystical experience or the counsel of a mystic (based on his mystical experience) helped anyone to resolve a moral dilemma? Have mystics been models of high moral behavior? The notion of mysticism transcending science is very problematic, at best a suggestive figure of speech. But what does it really mean?

Other questions to be addressed to Pablo:

What about naturalistic explanations of the mystical experience? Would such explanation show that mystical experiences are not anything special or likely sources for extra-ordinary knowledge?

What do we say about religious mystics who claim that their experience is “proof” or “evidence” for specific religious doctrine? For example, proof of the trinity, or the intercession of the Virgin Mary, and so on.

Do we have reasons for thinking that only people of high morality have mystical experiences? Aren’t there mystics who are not good moral models?

The emotional make-up of the person seems significant in bringing about a mystical experience: and historically and currently individuals and organized groups use different kinds of discipline, exercises, even deprivation to induce mystical experiences; furthermore, mystical experiences can be drug-induced. How do these facts affect the claim that mystical experiences are special and spiritually important?

Isn’t it true that each mystic brings to his experience beliefs and cultural/religious conditioning held prior to the experience, and interprets his experience accordingly? (As Walter Kaufmann says: “Suzuki does not have the same experience as Saint Teresa”)

Isn’t it true that non-mystics are totally dependent on what the mystic says about his experience, i.e., the way he interprets or describes his experiences? Hence, non-mystics are limited to hear-say evidence for their ideas of the “mystical experience.”

Questions about the consequences of monotheism

A few years ago Dr. Carol Copp (retired professor of sociology, CSUF) presented an overview of a book Rodney Stark entitled One True God: The Historical Consequences of Monotheism to an audience of humanists.

Stark’s book and Dr. Copp’s lecture raise a number of questions regarding the sociological and historical effects of monotheism, which many of her secular audience tended to see in a negative light. But, of course, a definitive statement on this issue is not easy and maybe not even possible, given that most answers are posed in terms of a religious or a secular bias. Nonetheless, maybe a few things can be said which are not just partisan statements that belief in one god is good for you or the opposite.

Many of us with an interest in the role that religions have played in history often raise the question: Has monotheism resulted in more evil than good for humanity, or on the contrary, more good than evil? This is not an easy question, and reasonable arguments and evidence can be advanced for either answer: more good or more evil. Dr. Coop brought out a number of reasons for saying that belief in one true God has resulted in much evil (war, death, destruction, suffering, etc.). Certainly most secular humanists are inclined to emphasize this negative aspect of monotheism. But in religious history the move from the polytheism of tribal gods to monotheism has often been presented as moral progress, especially when the “one true God” is given moral qualities. Moreover, it is not obvious that the move from polytheism to monotheism has always been accompanied by an increase in religious war and persecution. In some cases it has; but in other cases it has not.

With regard to moral consequences of theism, knowing that a nation or tribe is monotheistic does not tell us much. We also would need to know more specifically about the character of the monotheistic belief(s) and something about the character (or tendencies) of the believers. What kind of god do they hold as their one, true god? Is he a war god, a vengeful god or a morally developed, god of wisdom? What kinds of demands or commandments do they imagine their god to impose on them? Are these people aggressive and war-like, who fashion their one, true god along these lines? Do they see their religious devotion to their god as requiring that all outsiders (all non-believers) be eliminated? Do they have the belief in exclusive salvation (referred to as “particularism” by sociologists) that implies only those who worship their god can be saved, and others are fair targets for their cleansing, military action?

On the other hand, is it possible the nation or tribe in question holds to a different form of monotheism, a benevolent, universal theism that sees all members of the human race as brothers and sisters, children of the one true God? Can we allow that sometimes a nation or tribe can consist of benevolent, progressive-minded believers who fashion a “one, true God” who commands that all people respect and benefit each other, and work to bring about justice for all his “children”? (Here think of the “good works” type of Christianity, in which working to help those in need is seen as showing devotion to God, and which the idea that “Jesus loves you” is emphasized; and the notion that you must “believe as God commands lest you suffer eternal torment in hell” is downplayed or ignored altogether.)

Historically, we would be hard pressed to find a clear case of this form of pure, benevolent monotheism. A peoples’ image of the deity generally reflects that peoples’ moral and intellectual evolution; this has always been a “mixed bag,” with malevolent, destructive tendencies dominating sometimes, and the progressive, morally enlightened tendencies becoming more apparent at other times. In short, the type of monotheism that develops reflects the type of human culture that has evolved. That monotheism will sometimes be “not too bad,” even encouraging for those who look for signs of moral progress. But as the bloody history of Europe and the Americas has shown, too often monotheism has been “bad news” for humanity.

Bruce Gleason: The Hazards of Living in a Religious World

By Bruce Gleason, director of Freethought Alliance

Sometimes I wonder what the world would be like if man never invented religion nor needed a god to believe in. Some think that the world societies would simply fall apart with no religion to guide them, As it looks from my point of view, religion divides much more than it unites. It might unite small communities in times of trouble or despair, but a look at the larger picture shows that it divides entire cultures – which is much more dangerous than dividing small communities.
By examining countries in which religion has little consequence to individuals, we can compare societies in which religion hardly exists. Those nations are Japan, Norway, Sweden, Denmark and several other European nations. Study after study show that these societies have more prosperity, less violence and happier individuals than religious countries. Adversely, countries that have much more belief are more violent and poor.
Even if we look at ourselves in the Unites States, we see more poverty, more violence, more divorces and – yes- even more abortions and out-of-wedlock births in the southern ‘Bible belt’ states, which directly contradicts the tenets of the Christian faith.
Although we shouldn’t correlate countries attributes to religion, there must be an underlining cause why religious countries seem to have less well-being than non-religion ones. There are so many issues that seem to correlate that one would be hard-pressed to say there is no correlation.
Religious politics causes direct harm to our citizens. When politicians make blanket statements in direct adherence to bronze-age texts, people suffer. The most harmful decisions politicians make are those which affect our future generations by eliminating scientific research because of supernatural beliefs. Stem-cell research is another good example. If there were no restrictions on this type of research, just think of where it could lead? I’m thinking of what our great-grandchildren will be thinking of us, knowing that we could have successfully cured or treated dozens of debilitating diseases decades earlier except for these barbaric restrictions based on whether a soul is created at conception or not. Does the 900 years of the Dark Ages ring a bell here? From 400CE when Christianity took hold of the political system in Alexandria till the 1300’s, there were few advancements in science, except where religion had no or little influence. Religion is harmful and it shows clearly thorough history.
US Rep. John Shimkus, R-Collinsville, quoted at a public hearing from Genesis18 that God decides when the “earth will end” and we don’t have to worry about global warming….. He knows with 100% certainty that humans can’t cause devastating sea level rise because God said in the Bible he would “never again” devastate humans with a flood again. This is dangerous stuff folks! And this man is in part making our laws.
Yes – living in a religious society is dangerous, but let’s explore where it really hurts: Parents denying their children medical treatment so a deity can heal them. Faith healers taking money from already disadvantaged (physically and financially)individuals – and when no healing takes place, the guilt and anguish which those people feel because they weren’t ‘good enough’ to be healed. The simple psychological guilt which all children feel every time their superior says they might be going to hell. Honor killings in the Muslim world – and yes this happens in the US. The ‘cleansing’ of young girls by genital mutilation, not to mention the millions of unneeded circumcisions. The abhorrent child abuse proliferated by the Catholic church and supported by the top-rank clergy. Not to mention the inquisition, the crusades, the burning of the Alexandria library, Heaven’s Gate, David Koresh at Waco, Texas, Jim Jones, and the uncountable wars lead by religious leaders whom the masses followed.
II still wonder how the world would look like without religion. To me, if there was no God to believe in, it would be a wonderful world.

Philosophers’ Confusion: Why something rather than nothing?

They muddy the water to make it appear deep — Friedrich Nietzsche

“Why is there something rather than nothing?” the confused philosopher asked. The scientist smiled, ignored the question, and went about his business.

I shall argue that the scientist is right to ignore the philosopher on the alleged “Deep Question.” But first I shall relate two scenarios to help set the stage.

First story: Suppose that you’re driving a mountain road with a friend as passenger and you come to a turn in the road where a large boulder blocks the road. You’re blocked and unable to get to your destination. Your friend wonders why this has happened. You point out that recent rain storms have saturated the hill alongside the road, undermined the base on which the stone sat and caused the stone to roll down the hillside and onto the road, blocking the way. Your friend is not satisfied and asks, “But why did it have to happen now?” You’re bewildered and cannot imagine what kind of response could satisfy your friend. You explained how the rock happened to block the way. To ask why it happened is just to express frustration or to betray a basic confusion.

Second story: Suppose you’re a parent of a son in his teens and have forbidden him to attend a Saturday night rave. At a very late hour that Saturday night a friendly policewoman knocks on your door with your underage teenager in tow. He had been found at the rave with a small amount of marijuana. You thank the policewoman for retrieving the errant teen and then ask him what was he doing there. He replies by telling how he got there: he sneaked out of the house and an older friend drove them to the rave. But you were not interesting in how he got there, but why he chose to disobey you and attend the rave. Obviously, your son wants to avoid the why response.

As these little scenarios show, asking how something happened is clearly different from asking why something happened in cases where someone brought the happening about. There are appropriate circumstances in which one or the other question is appropriate. In some situations, both questions might be applicable; and in some, the why question is clearly not applicable at all.

This distinction gives us a quick way of defusing the notorious question “Why is there something rather than nothing?” and exposing the unsound reasoning behind it. But first let’s consider a few more preliminaries.

When does it make sense to ask: “Why A rather than B?” Surely it is when the question refers to the action of an intelligent agent who may have reasons, motives, or purposes in acting as he did.

Consider a few cases of such why questions:

Either I say something or remain silent. I decide to speak up. Why did I speak rather than remain silent?
Either we do something or do nothing. Suppose we opt to do something. Why something rather than nothing?
Either the administration decides to invade Iraq. It decided to invade. Why did it invade instead of not invading?

Here the why question makes sense. We can imagine what would be relevant responses (in terms of reasons, motives, purposes, etc.,) and what would not be relevant.

But suppose I ask

why (requesting a motive, reason, or purpose of an intelligent agent) a deadly hurricane hit the Louisiana coast?
Or why a landslide buried the village killing hundreds of people?
Or why a drought happened and ruined the summer crop?

The “why” has no place here, unless you believe that an intelligent agent (a god?) causes these things to happen. By contrast, the how question, which asks for the natural, material processes that led to these events, makes sense. This would be the question which scientists ask and attempt to answer.

Many times the how question (question requesting the natural processes and conditions that explain a happening) is stated as a question with the work why when reasons and purposes are not assumed. For examples, consider the following set of questions, all stated as “Why did A happen instead of B?”

Either the continents are permanently fixed in place or they float on tectonic plates. That is, Either the continents have moved or they have not moved (permanently fixed in position). Scientists have evidence that the continent have moved.
Someone could raise the question:
Why has there been continental movement rather than no movement?
Or as another set of questions:
Why is there an island X in the Pacific Ocean rather than nothing?
Why is there a moon orbiting the Earth instead of no moon at all?
Why did the solar system come to be rather than nothing?

All of these questions are how questions disguised as why questions. Understood as questions about natural processes and conditions, which are the subjects for scientific investigation and theory, these are really questions that ask “How did A happen, and not B?”

Now consider the famous philosophers’ question: Why is there something rather than nothing? The question has been restated in modern times as “Why is there a universe rather than nothing?”

Let’s call this question (Why is there a universe instead of nothing?) the “Deep Question” of metaphysics and theology. As I noted, sometimes this is posed as: Why is there something instead of nothing?

The famous ‘Deep Question’ — insofar as it is a question for philosophers and theologians — is a why question; it implies that one can find cosmic reasons and purpose to explain the origin of the universe. Reasons and purposes imply an intelligent mind (creator) who can provide those reasons and purposes. It also presupposes (invalidly) that the existence of the something (e.g., the primordial universe) requires explanation; whereas, a state of nothing would be natural and does not require explanation. As a number of scientific critics (e.g. Adolph Grünbaum, Victor Stenger) have noted, this presupposition is an invalid one.

Many people assume that when scientific cosmologists and theoretical physicists investigate the primordial conditions of the universe and advance theories purporting to explain how the universe may have originated, they are dealing with the philosophers’ Deep Question. But they are not. They are not investigating the why of the universe (as if they could find reasons, motives, or purposes behind the primordial conditions leading to the Big Bang). Instead, they investigating and advancing theories of how the universe may have originated. They are not dealing with the philosophers’ “Deep Question” at all.

Someone who thinks that the philosophers’ Deep Question is validated by the work of scientific cosmologists is being as evasive as the teenager who explained how he traveled to the rave. And the person who thinks that scientific cosmologists are dealing with the philosophers’ deep question is as confused as the friend who requested to know why the stone blocked the road.

Satan to the Atheist: Go to Heaven, Please!

Whenever I attend a conference or small meeting of atheists and secular skeptics, I am somewhat ‘put off’ by the general attitude that all religions and religious people are fair targets of ridicule, as if to say: “There’s nothing there worthwhile studying or trying to understand; it is all ignorance and stupidity.”

Admittedly not all atheists and skeptics have this attitude; among them are some very good historians and scholars of religious history and writings. An exception to the facile dismissal of all religion by the new atheists is the atheistic philosopher, Daniel Dennett, who calls for an objective, naturalistic study of religions in order to determine what might be worthwhile and what should be abandoned. He also makes the interesting distinction between belief in God and the belief in belief in God; noting that the difference is relevant to our evaluation of the religious attitude. But in other parts of his work in which he is identified as a ‘new atheist’ alongside the evolutionary scientist Richard Dawkins and the writer, Sam Harris, Dennett (much to my disappointment) tends to agree with those who hold that generally religious culture has little or nothing valuable for contemporary thought.

Walter Kaufmann, who was an effective ‘atheist’ and heretic long before our current crop of outspoken atheists, was also bothered by the general attitude among some secular-minded people that the worst aspects of religion characterized religion in general and the attitude that religious tradition offered little of value to modern thought. Kaufmann included a humorous dialogue between Satan and the Atheist in his 1960 book, Critique of Religion and Philosophy. After some humorous statement as to why more Christians and Muslims than Jews or Buddhists inhabit Hell, Satan offers some sarcastic remarks about the ‘culture’ of the atheist.

Here are excepts from the dialogue. Hopefully some readers will find it a humorous alternative to the over-simplified ‘philosophy’ that atheism represents the truth and religions represent nothing but barbaric and nonsensical ideas worth nothing but ridicule.

Dialogue between Satan and an Atheist —- borrowed from Walter Kaufmann’s Critique of Religion and Philosophy

A = Atheist (One of our current crop of ‘New Atheists’)
S = Satan

A: You look so content. Have you grilled another theologian for breakfast? Or did you heat up a Christian for your lunch?

S: Both, my friend.

A: I have often wondered how you catch Buddhists. After all, they do not believe the sort of thing Christians believe, so you can’t undermine their faith.

S: I get them to fall in love with the world.

A: By dangling beautiful women in front of ascetics?

S: Not necessarily. Their aim is to fall out of love with the world. I try to show them that suffering is worth while.

A: That’s what I said: women.

S: That works only in the least interesting cases. The others I try to interest in some cause, some task, some mission. I may even persuade them to spread their knowledge to as many men as possible. As soon as I have kindled some ambition, I generally do not find it too hard to involve them in all sorts of compromises. But there are other ways.

A: Just name one more.

S: Sometimes I try to lead them from detachment into callousness and indifference to the sufferings of others. But that works only in the early stages. Once a Buddhist has developed his peculiarly detached compassion he represents one of the hardest cases that I know. A Christian theologian is child’s play compared to that.

A: Who else gives you trouble?

S: For a long time the Jews did. I took the wrong approach. I argued about Scripture with them and got nowhere. They knew the texts just as well as I did, made connections from verse to verse across a hundred pages much more nimbly than I did, and were never, absolutely never, fazed by anything I said. I could not shock them. Usually they produced some rabbi who, more than a thousand years ago, had made my point and been given some classical answer. They considered this whole thing a game even more than I did: after all, for me it was business, too. For them, talking about Scripture was sheer delight. It was their favorite pastime which allowed them to forget their business and all their troubles. Where a Christian might have blenched they laughed, told stories to refute me or make fun of me, and I wasted my time.

A: But couldn’t you show them that their interpretations were untenable?

S: I tell you, they considered the whole thing a game, and they played it according to special rules: by their rules, their arguments were tenable. They never claimed that Moses had meant all the things they put into his mouth. Of course not. But according to the rules of the game it could be argued that an interpretation of the words of Moses was correct in spite of that —even several conflicting ones. What mattered was that you played well; and compared to some their rabbis, I didn’t.

A: So what happened?

S: I tried to get them to speak irreverently about God. Sometimes they did, but then it turned out to have been humor, and so it did not count. Threats, on the other hand, stiffened their backs, and most of them would rather be martyred than blaspheme under pressure. As long as the Christians martyred so many of them, there was a real dearth of Jews and Buddhists in hell, and the place began to fill up with Christians and Muslims. It got terribly stuffy, and there began to be talk of discrimination. I was even accused of having adopted a quota system. But now things have changed.

A: Did you change your policy of admission?

S: Not at all, But when the Christians stopped persecuting the Jews, I began to be phenomenally successful with a new approach. I told them that their way of life was dated, that their laws were not made for the modern world, that freedom was the big thing now, and that their ancient laws interfered with their freedom.

A: Do you mean to say that all Jews who eat pork go to hell?

S: Of course not. But once they give their laws, their old way of life goes by the board, and they no longer study Scripture as they used to. By now many of them know the Bible as little as Christian youths.

A: And does everyone who doesn’t know the Bible go to hell?

S: No, certainly not. But when they get to that point I ask them what right they have to call themselves Jews, religiously speaking. And that does make a dent. Then they start to worry. And whether they worry or not, their religion has become a social affair for most of them, just as for Christians.

A: I’m glad to hear that. More and more people are beginning to see the light. I have been joking with you, asking about people going to hell. I don’t really believe in hell. So far as I am concerned religion is bunk.

S: Just what do you mean by saying that? Bunk?

A: I mean, it is a lot of nonsense which isn’t worth bothering about. There are sensible things like science, especially psychology and anthropology, which are much more profitable. Religion is a stupid waste of time.

S: Oh, I don’t think so at all. There is nothing that interests me more. Religion is one of the most fascinating subjects in the world. I suppose you don’t like poetry and art either.

A: You are wrong. There are some painters and poets whom I like. Picasso, for example, and a lot of modern art. I like Tolstoy, too, before he became a Christian, or tried to become one. And Dostoevsky, in spite of his crazy religious ideas. I am interested in their psychology.

S: What about the Book of Genesis?

A: I don’t read stuff like that. Next you will ask me if I say Psalms. I must have been exposed to things like that as a child. But I have mercifully forgotten it.

S: Have you read no religious scriptures at all?

A: I have only an amateur’s interest in anthropology. I have read a bit about primitive religions. But I have never followed it up. There are all sorts of handy cheap editions now; perhaps I’ll try some of them next time I travel by train. Usually I drive.

S: But these things were not written for a quick dip on the train between a crossword puzzle and whiskey sour.

A: And why not? You would not want me to go to church to catch up with the Upanishads?

S: Of course not. You don’t go to church to catch up, as you call it, with Lear: but at least you take off an evening for it and give it your whole attention and let it do something to you.

A: And what should these scriptures do to me? At most I should want to fill a gap in my education. I don’t want to be converted.

S: Well, these are not things merely to know about or to have handy for a dinner conversation. The Bible and the Buddha, the Upanishads and the Bhagavadgita, Lao-tze and the Tales of the Hassidim, these are not things about which one is informed or not informed: what matters is that they speak to you and some way change you.

A: Have you become a preacher, Satan?

S: I am merely shuddering at the prospect of having to spend an eternity with you. I should rather like to make a human being of you before you settle down in my place. I don’t agree with the people who accept these scriptures, but I can talk with them and, to be frank, I rather enjoy talking with them. But you! I wish you would go to heaven.