Questioning Everything
I am a natural-born skeptic.
My deep-seated instinct is to challenge and question just about
everything that anyone says. Just how
deep-seated is this tendency? Well, I
can remember a little “game” I used to play with my mother when I was very
young – oh, say five years old. At least
for me it was a fun game – probably less so for my mother. My mother believed deeply in the wisdom of
Thumper’s mother: “If you can’t say
something nice, don’t say anything at all.” (This is probably why I have always
been a quiet person.) So anyway, she
would often make innocuous, positive statements, which seemed to me to be
eminently challengeable. A common
exchange between us went like this:
My mother (to me):
Isn’t it a gorgeous day today? Look
at the beautiful blue sky! (we lived in San Diego so this was a common
occurrence)
Me:
(to the sky) Sky…are you beautiful?
(to my mother) No – so see?
Fortunately, my mother loved me enough to prevent her from
throttling me every time I had my little fun.
Also, fortunately, I have learned over the years that if I want to have
any friends at all I need to restrain that urge to challenge and question
everything that people say no matter how innocuous. But the urge has not gone away. In general, I am still a compulsive
questioner: Is that proposition (on any
given subject) true? Is it
plausible? What is the evidence in favor
of it? What is the evidence against
it? Which of alternative propositions is
the more plausible? Does a given opinion
fit with everything else I know (or think I know) about the world? Is there a third scenario that should be considered? Is there any real proof?
Yet in spite of my ingrown skepticism and contrarianism, I
still somehow ended up a believer in God.
Are religious belief and skepticism compatible?
Actually, let me restate my prior assertion: I am a believer in God at least in part because of my ingrown skepticism. I am not a natural believer, nor was I raised
as one. But I am naturally curious, and
I am also by nature self-analytical. I
have always been aware that other people seem to see the world differently from
me. So one of the main drivers of my
curiosity is the question, What am I missing?
What is it that others see (e.g., believers) that I don’t? Is my view of the world correct or is there
something I can learn from them? If so,
how can I learn to see what they see?
I won’t go here into the story of my religious conversion (but
I may in a later blog). My main point
here is to stress that intellectual curiosity and rigorous analysis are not
antithetical to belief in God and religion.
Skepticism and religious belief are by no means incompatible. But it depends on how we define the word
“skeptic.”
What exactly is skepticism?
What is a skeptic?
Nowadays we commonly equate the term skeptic with
“non-believer” – i.e., someone who rejects belief in everything that smacks of
the supernatural, including God. We almost
equate skepticism with atheism. But this
is not the original meaning, nor the most accurate.
The term skeptic (or
sceptic, if you’re a Brit), comes
from the ancient philosophical school known as skepticism. The original meaning of the Greek verb skeptomai was to observe or look about oneself carefully, but later, when applied
to activity of the mind, it meant to
examine or consider. Thus, skeptikos
meant thoughtful or reflective, and a “skeptic” was simply
an inquirer or investigator. The term,
however, came to be associated with the intellectual position of questioning or
doubting all truth claims. Skeptics
clashed in particular with the Stoics,
who had very detailed set of firm dogmas regarding the nature of reality.
Contrary to the common belief that Skeptics dogmatically
denied all possibility of knowledge (which is a self-contradictory claim), for
the most part they simply held that dogmatic certainty should be avoided. Later Skeptics looked back to Socrates as the
original model of questioning and doubting the statements of others, but the
actual founder of the tradition was Pyrrho, who was a contemporary of Alexander
the Great. The only ancient skeptic
whose writings are well preserved is Sextus Empiricus, who lived around AD 200. Skepticism as a modern philosophy began with
the rediscovery and translation of Sextus’ writings in the 15th
century. Some of the most famous modern
skeptical philosophers were Montaigne, Hume, and Wittgenstein. Montaigne and Hume, in particular,
overwhelmingly influenced modern thought, the rise of science, and the modern
tendency to question and doubt everything – particularly religious beliefs.
Skepticism is a useful tool to help us avoid being deceived by
all the ridiculous stuff out in the world today – financial frauds, nonsensical
claims of all types, whether about politics, religion, or the latest commercial
product. But it should not become so
ingrained a habit in us that we come to insist that there is no truth to be found anywhere. In other words, we should indeed question
everything, including our own questioning. Skepticism should not be a goal in
itself. We should be skeptical even about our own skepticism. Sigmund Freud once said, “If one regards
oneself as a skeptic, it is a good plan to have occasional doubts about one’s
skepticism.”
The modern-day Skeptics Society (see here) is
“a nonprofit 501(c)(3) scientific and educational organization whose mission is
to engage leading experts in investigating the paranormal, fringe science,
pseudoscience, and extraordinary claims of all kinds, promote critical
thinking, and serve as an educational tool for those seeking a sound scientific
viewpoint.”
All of this sounds quite admirable, eminently
reasonable. Who can object to keeping an
open mind? But if we look a little more
carefully it soon becomes clear that the only type of “compelling
evidence” they will accept is testing according to the “scientific method,”
which “involves gathering data to formulate and test naturalistic explanations
for natural phenomena.” Shermer later
says:
I have no quibbles with any of this except the idea that the
only explanations that one should accept are “naturalistic” ones. If you are referring to claims about UFOs or
the Loch Ness monster or the Yeti, that’s fine. But if
you also exclude all religious claims on the grounds that they cannot be proven
scientifically, then we have a problem.
Such an approach by definition excludes all possibility of a
reality that transcends, or that is beyond the physical world we are all
familiar with. An intellectual position
that requires scientific proof before accepting any contention is not itself a
scientific position but a philosophical
one. It is called naturalism or
materialism. It is the same as saying
that all reality is reducible to pure material substances.
Rupert Sheldrake is a very accomplished biologist who
nonetheless is very publicly committed to the view that science should not
limit itself to the study of the material
world. In Science Set Free: Ten Paths
to New Discovery (see here )he argues powerfully that science is limiting its own
progress (and that of human civilization) by ignoring the clear evidence that
there are realities beyond the physical world.
Admittedly, the objective evidence for these other realities is still
limited, in part because scientists as a whole refuse to take them
seriously. After all, if you begin with
the assumption that the only reality that exists is the material world, you
will naturally see no value in pursuing evidence of non-material realities. In other words, if you don’t look for God, you will never find Him.
Sheldrake considers a number of different indicators that
suggest there is something to human beings besides mere atoms and chemicals. Materialists typically argue, for example,
that all human consciousness is reducible to physics and chemistry. In other words, we are little more than machines,
and the idea that we have a mind or soul
or spirit that is separable from or independent of our physical bodies is merely
an illusion somehow manufactured by
our brains. Humans (and all living
things), in this view, are just complex conglomerations of atoms, and all of
our thoughts, beliefs, and aspirations can be entirely explained by chemical
reactions in our brains.
If this is so, Sheldrake asks, why is the so-called “placebo
effect” so real? A placebo, of course, is
an inert substance administered to a certain percentage of the subjects in
clinical trials of new drugs, as a control, in order to better be able to contrast
the effect of the drug being tested. A
new drug can be licensed and marketed only if it works better than the
placebo. What is striking is that
placebos actually do work! Even though
they do not contain any drug or active substance, patients who receive the
placebo often show a significant degree of improvement in their condition. Why is this?
If it were simply a matter of the
chemical effect of the drug on the chemistry of the patient, an inert pill
should have no effect at all. Yet it is
clear that the patients experience some positive effect merely as a result of their
hope and expectation that the medicine will work. (This assumes that the study is blind – i.e., that the subjects do not
know whether they are receiving the actual drug or a placebo.)
The placebo effect is well documented and is frequently utilized
by physicians. (See The Placebo Effect and Health: Combining Science and Compassionate Care
by W. Grant Thompson here.) The whole bedside
manner of a doctor (the reassuring manner, the framed degrees on the wall, the
white coat) is designed to give the patient confidence in the ability of the
doctor to heal him. There are even
accounts of patients who benefitted from sham surgeries –the surgical
equivalent of placebo pills. One
patient, for example, who could barely walk before his arthroscopic knee
surgery, was completely free of pain in his knee several years afterwards. Yet he ultimately learned that he had never
received any surgery at all! He had been
in the control group and had his knee cut open but then sewed up without any
actual treatment.
The fact that the placebo effect exists at all suggests that
our physical state – health vs. sickness – is not just a matter of physics and
chemistry. Our health depends in part on our hopes,
expectations, and beliefs, and in some way that is scarcely understood, our
minds can affect our physical bodies to a surprising degree.
I believe deeply in the importance and significance of
intellectual research, including scientific research. I believe that by careful study we can come
to understand many things about the world we live in, and we ought not to
neglect our ability to understand and even improve the world. Nor should we discount the discoveries of
science merely because it is less than perfect.
But I also believe that there is much more to reality than what we can
appreciate through our five senses. I am
convinced, both by study and by personal experience, that there is a
transcendent reality – essentially another dimension or dimensions – existing
alongside of the natural world of common experience.
And I am certainly far from alone in this belief. In my next blog I will discuss some of the
fascinating views of eminent scientists with regard to religion. Did you know, for example, that nearly all the
leading physicists who pioneered quantum mechanics were believers in mysticism? Or did you happen to know that one of the
most eminent geneticists in the world today is a devout evangelical Christian? Stay tuned.
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