CalvinDude.com

Now that I’ve gone a full week at work since my one-week vacation….

I’m ready for my next vacation!

But that’s just because we’ve been doing testing and development for our next version of software updates. Hoo-rah. I’m so thrilled and all….

Yeah.

As was mentioned previously, philosophers make a distinction between “being” and “becoming” as characterized by the distinction in the statements “What is, is” and “What is, is changing.” Furthermore, we already spoke of how the idea of “becoming” could be viewed atemporally as the concept of “being” frozen in specific points of time, but we can also define A in the identity “A is A” as having a temporal aspect as well. In both cases, we are presented with a question of time.

Time has fascinated me greatly for years, and it is quite possible for me to go on a lengthy bunny trail on this subject. However, I will resist that and instead limit our discussion for the moment to only those specific aspects of time that we can logically link to the concept of existence (as described in the last post). First of all, we must ask: what is meant by time?

This is a difficult question to answer, much as defining “existence” is difficult. We could take Einstein’s view that “Time is that which clocks measure.” Or we can take the other physicist’s common idea: “Time is what keeps everything from happening all at once.” Neither of these is very satisfactory.

We are not helped much by the advent of Special and General Relativity. Instead of simplifying the problems for us, conceptually it increased the difficulty. There is no such thing as a universal time anymore. The rate of time depends upon the rate of movement through space, such that the faster you move through space the slower you move through time. In fact, one way of illustrating this is by imagining that you have an engine that can move through four dimensions (three space and one time), but that the combined rate of movement must equal exactly the speed of light. As such, since light moves through space at the speed of light, it moves through time at a speed of 0. On the other hand, we move through space at a much slower rate, and the leftover bits get transferred to how fast we move through time. Thus, the faster we move through space, the slower we move through time.

While this brings up immediate bunny trails (for instance, how would one determine my “age” when, for instance, no time has elapsed for a proton that escaped the sun at the exact moment I was born—although this is weakened by the fact that according to relativity, there is no such thing as simultaneous events anyway), again we need only speak of a few points here.

The first is this: no matter how we look at time, we are always reduced to a question of existence. If time is that which clocks measure, then clocks must exist before there can be knowledge of time. Note that this does not mean your bedroom alarm clock must exist before time exists! A clock is simply a device that has repetition built in. The Earth rotating once on its axis is a clock—1 rotation = 1 day. The Earth rotating around the Sun is also a clock—1 rotation = 1 year. Furthermore, most of our watches today are built by counting the frequency of quartz crystals that vibrate at a specific rate when electricity passes through them—32.768 kHz = 1 second.

Naturally, while clocks measure time clocks are not time themselves. Indeed, we can imagine that if all physical processes stopped, time could still move on. However, time’s “moving on” is only meaningful if things later change back to movement. Then, the period between the stop and the start of physical process would be a unit of time. Time is meaningless if all physical processes ceased and never picked up again.

This leads us to a related point: the perception of time. We are primarily convinced of the existence of time because we are able to perceive change. We know things today that we didn’t know yesterday, and we can remember learning these things. We can put a piece of bread on the counter and watch as it first becomes stale and then eventually grows moldy. We perceive these changes.

Again, this does not mean our perceptions are valid. Just as we cannot prove other objects exist via our perception of those objects, we cannot prove that those objects change via our perceptions. But we can prove we have the perception of change, for we have memories of the change.

In this case, however, our perception is not able to do for time what it could do for existence. That is, while our perception means we know existence exists by direct knowledge, our perception of the passage of time could be an illusion. Our memories could be false memories. We could possibly exist as beings outside of time with false memories of the passage of time, including thoughts of our remembering certain things occurred “more recently” than other things. But while this might be possible, it is hardly probable. Indeed, it is difficult to see how it would be possible for a timeless existence to have beings that exist with the memories of time, especially as elaborate as these memories are.

So let us assume the existence of time. It is not only most likely to be right, but if it is a false assumption it doesn’t matter. After all, if this is a false assumption then I can never change my mind on the issue as I will be forever frozen with this idea that time is real. No one can “convince” me otherwise, as that would require change and change can only be expressed through time. Thus, there remains absolutely no reason to doubt the existence of time.

Let us now couple this notion of time with our previous post’s ideas of existence. Since I know for a fact that something most certainly exists due to my direct knowledge of my own perceptions (and due to the fact that even if my perceptions are imaginary, I must exist in order to be deceived by them) and since there is no reason to doubt the validity of time, what does this mean for us?

First (and most paradoxically) it means that there must be some form of existence that is outside the realm of time! In other words, existence within time presupposes existence outside of time too. How does this work? To answer that question, we must first ask another: where did my own existence come from, or did it come from anything?

There only seem to be a grand total of three possible options here:

1. I am self-created.
2. I am self-existent.
3. I am created by something else that is self-existent.

(Another option that philosophers have used is “4. My existence is an illusion” but we have already disproven this notion.)

So what would it mean if I were self-created? Basically put, it would mean that at one point there was nothing, and out of that nothing I created myself. But this explanation already seems absurd (and it is), for if there is “nothing” then not even I existed then. But if I didn’t exist then, then I would not be able to create myself. Self-creation, therefore, results in a logical contradiction: I exist and yet I non-exist at the same time and in the same relationship, if I am self-created.

So self-creation is illogical. Logic dictates instead that there must be some form of self-existence. What is self-existence then?

Self-existence means simply that the self-existent object has the “power” of existence with itself. If I am self-existent, then I contain as one of my attributes the attribute of existence. This, in turn, would make me a necessary being—for if I hold the power to existence within myself then it is impossible for me to cease to exist without ceasing to be me.

But my perceptions are not that I am myself a self-existent being. Instead, I perceive that I have parents. Let us suppose this perception is right (and I have no reason to deny it). The question moves back one step. Where did my parents come from? Either they are self-existent, or they too were created by something else.

My parents claim to have parents. The chain moves back up another link and we repeat the question again. Soon, we have travelled quite some distance. In fact, some might be tempted to ask “Why isn’t it possible that there are an infinite number of links in this chain? If the chain is infinitely long, then we never need to stipulate that there was some being that was self-existent.”

The problem with the infinite chain idea is the infinite time involved. See, if my existence comes from something else, and that something else’s existence comes from another something else, and this continues forever, then we have continual change. Change, as we talked about earlier in this post, is the essence of time. An infinite chain of change would take an infinite amount of time to form. But if it took an infinite amount of time to form, then we could not presently be in our current time—we would still be an infinite time in the past from this point!

In other words, an infinite chain involves us with what is called an infinite redux. The same position must be taken back one step an infinite number of times, and therefore nothing is ever gained. The only way to stop this is if, at some point, we break out of the chain and stipulate there must be something to start the chain, and that chain-starter must be self-existent.

For the same reasons as the infinite redux, this self-existent being must be able to transcend time itself. In other words, the self-existent being must be eternal (by eternal we do not mean infinite, as that would bring us back to the infinite chain problem; we mean only that an eternal existence is not bound by time). It exists apart from time (which, being linked to space as demonstrated in our example of the engine, means that the self-existent chain-starter must have non-physical existence too).

Thus we have established that logic demands that there be some form of self-existence. Since all I have direct knowledge of is my own existence, I might be that self-existent being. But if my perceptions are right, I am most certainly not that self-existent being. How can we tell if I am this self-existent being or if I am instead created by this self-existent being after a long series of other creations? What other things does logic require us to believe at this point?

We shall find out in our next post.

Anonymous on this post asks:

Is it possible that a true Christian can sometimes have the “dark night,” where God doesn’t seem real to him or near to him … or are such “dark nighters” always reprobate non-christians?

i ask because i struggle with assurance of salvation some times for months…and the struggle itself seems to confirm my fears.

It appears to me that this question might have roots due to a misunderstanding of Steve’s original post. Even if that is the case, the question is still legitimate and deserves to be looked at with a Biblical mindset.

To answer the question, a “dark night of the soul” can be, and in fact has many times been, experienced by Christians. It is not an indication that one is reprobate if one has struggled with such a position. Indeed, the assurance of salvation is quite often the most common battlefield upon which a Christian will test his faith, and that battle can last months, years, and even to varying degrees unto the end.

Before I continue further, it is helpful to note that what Steve said of Teresa was not that she was reprobate—in fact, he specifically said he didn’t know if that was the case. If Steve’s post had intended to make the connection that “experiencing a dark night of the soul is proof you are reprobate” he would not have needed to qualify this statement with his uncertainty of Teresa’s salvific status. However, as Steve noted, feeling that God has abandoned you may be an indication that you are unsaved, but it is by no means a certainty.

I also note that I do speak from personal experience regarding “dark nights of the soul.” I have mentioned in many places before that I was once diagnosed with severe depression. In fact, one doctor told me that my case was the worst he had ever seen (this isn’t exactly what you want to hear from you doctor, in case you were wondering). In my case, the depression was linked to a specific physical cause. But this was not something that I discovered immediately. Instead, I spent two years gradually getting worse and worse psychologically, until my boss where I worked pulled me aside and ordered me to see a doctor because of the changes in my personality that my coworkers had noticed. At that time, I started several different types of medication in greater and greater doses, but I never seemed to get better.

Eventually I switched doctors (for reasons unrelated to my treatment at the time). My new doctor gave me a physical and said my blood was too thick. He had me do a pulse/ox test (which is used to indicate your sleeping pulse rate and the oxygen saturation level in your blood stream). The results of that test indicated that several times during the night, oxygen levels dropped and my heart began to race—an indication that I had sleep apnea. I had a sleep test scheduled and the results came back positive. Not only did I have sleep apnea, but the entire time I was tested I never entered REM sleep. In all likelihood, I had not gotten much (or possibly any) REM sleep for over two years. It is no wonder that this would demonstrate itself in the form of depression!

For me there was a simple cure. I got a CPAP machine (which uses air pressure to keep the airways from collapsing while you sleep). About a month after I started with the CPAP machine, I had finished with all medication that I had been taking for depression. And I’ve never been prescribed any depression medication since then. All my problems were apparently due to sleep deprivation.

Now during the time I was at my worst in depression, I had no desire to do anything. I was physically, emotionally, and spiritually exhausted. Many times, I would not go to church because I simply didn’t feel like getting out of bed on Sunday. Now, I’ve never been the type of person who has had problems with assurance of salvation…but that is not necessarily a good thing. You see, there were times during my depression that I literally hated God. But because I have always believed in eternal security, I knew that I could never escape from Him. He would always be there (and while I know that is true in a positive sense, back then I viewed it in the negative sense—like the schoolyard bully who will always be there to pick on you).

Because of my own depression, I have been able to talk to many other people who have gone through depression too. The pain of depression is something that is difficult to describe to people who have never experienced it. The doctor who told me that I had the worst case of depression he had ever seen also told me that he had a patient who was suffering from depression and had also been diagnosed with cancer. This patient claimed to prefer the pain of the cancer to the pain of depression. It is not difficult to understand why. When pain is caused by a physical source, our body has means to cope with it. We can go into shock, for instance. Likewise, we are able to treat (or at least attempt to treat) the physical ailments.

But depression takes place completely in the mind (even if it is caused by physical sources). It creates its own physical pain as well, but this physical pain doesn’t become dulled by shock. If depression gives you a stomach ache, causes you to vomit after every meal, makes you nauseous at the slightest scent, well taking Pepto Bismal isn’t going to help one bit. The stomach ailments are not caused by a stomach problem—they are caused by a mental problem, and only curing the mental aspect will change that.

Because of the Christians I’ve talked with, I know that one of the most common effects of depression is a struggle with faith and assurance. It is easy for us to fake how much we love God when things are going well. But add the overwhelming pain of depression, and suddenly it’s difficult to know where in the raging storm you can find dry land. I know many Christian brothers and sisters who struggle at times of depression with whether or not God has abandoned them. They struggle with this, yet I know as much as humanly possible that they have a genuine faith in God.

We do not need to take my personal testimony and my own witness for evidence, however. The Bible also shows many of these same people. If those who have never experienced it would like a glimpse of what depression is like, I suggest reading Psalm 88. Some excerpts follow:

I am counted among those who go down to the pit;
I am a man who has no strength,
like one set loose among the dead,
like the slain that lie in the grave,
like those whom you remember no more,
for they are cut off from your hand.
You have put me in the depths of the pit,
in the regions dark and deep.
Your wrath lies heavy upon me,
and you overwhelm me with all your waves.

O LORD, why do you cast my soul away?
Why do you hide your face from me?
Afflicted and close to death from my youth up,
I suffer your terrors; I am helpless.
Your wrath has swept over me;
your dreadful assaults destroy me.
They surround me like a flood all day long;
they close in on me together.
You have caused my beloved and my friend to shun me;
my companions have become darkness.

The NIV translates the final clause in a way that is even more poignant than the above ESV: “the darkness is my closest friend.”

While David did not write the above Psalm (it was written by the Sons of Korah), David also had his share of similar Psalms. For instance we read:

Because of all my adversaries I have become a reproach,
especially to my neighbors,
and an object of dread to my acquaintances;
those who see me in the street flee from me.
I have been forgotten like one who is dead;
I have become like a broken vessel.
For I hear the whispering of many—
terror on every side!—
as they scheme together against me,
as they plot to take my life. (Psalm 31:11-13)

And:

Why are you cast down, O my soul,
and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
my salvation and my God. (Psalm 42:11)

David was called “a man after God’s own heart,” yet also in this Psalm he wrote: “I say to God, my rock: ‘Why have you forgotten me?’” (vs. 9).

David’s examples could easily be multiplied, but we can also include several of the prophets. Jeremiah is known as the “weeping prophet” because of what he endured (watching the destruction of Jerusalem, recording it in the book of Lamentations). There were many dark nights experienced by many of the saints.

And we know from Paul why this is the case: “But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies” (2 Corinthians 4:7-10). And further: “For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:10).

This brings us to the paradoxical nature of the Christian walk. Despite the televangelist’s claims, Christianity is not about health, wealth, and happiness. It is about weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. It is about being crushed, perplexed, struck down. It is about being a jar of clay, not a steel container. All the more so that God’s strength is revealed more fully.

David was a man after God’s own heart. We know this, in part, because of the anguish he went through. He might be knocked down a dozen times, but he would get up thirteen times. And it was not due to his own abilities—he always acknowledged that it was God alone who could save him, and it was God alone who could deliver him.

Because we are time-bound creatures, we do not have the eternal aspect to measure whether someone going through a “dark night of the soul” will ultimately stand or fall. We only have the immediate temporal vantage point. Because of that, we cannot be dogmatic in determining what any particular person’s “dark night” means. But we do know that it is not automatic proof that said person is a reprobate.

However, as Steve’s post warned us, the existence of suffering is not itself proof that one is saved either. The wicked often suffer greatly in this life too—not all judgment is reserved for after death. Indeed, much persecution can be found between reprobates who are unrestrained in their hatred of other reprobates.

We likewise cannot ignore various other points that Steve brought up: the fact that the Roman Catholic system is non-Scriptural, that it teaches a false gospel, that it glorifies masochism and not just the natural toils and persecutions that will arise as we contend for the faith, all must bring some doubt as to what Teresa’s suffering meant about her spirituality. Ultimately, we do not know if she was regenerate or not; but we do know that the Roman system is not what we find in the Gospel.

And that brings us to the final point: evaluating our own personal experience. If you are currently going through a “dark night of the soul” what should you do? How do you make your “calling and election sure” in order to know whether what you experience is God demonstrating His power through your weakness or whether it is the bare fact of evil that even the unregenerate must deal with? Obviously, the first part of the question gives us some indication: does your “dark night of the soul” make God’s power shine though more fully? If so, then you have every reason to believe that your faith is genuine.

Often, however, this is a position that we cannot evaluate ourselves. When you are in the midst of depression, your perception of reality is affected. I know from my own experience that logic itself was different when I was depressed. For instance, when depressed, it logically makes sense that I should not waste the effort it takes to pay my bills on time. After all, having a phone is pointless; having electricity is meaningless; even having a place to live is worthless. In a world of pain, there’s not much point to anything.

But as soon as the depression lifts, we realize that our previous views were irrational. The logic that we couldn’t see in the depression is so obvious when the depression lifts that one feels stupid for having fallen for it while depressed.

So if you are going through a “dark night of the soul” you are the last person you should ask for an honest opinion of your spiritual state. You are the last person qualified to tell whether God is making Himself known through your weakness. For that, you need other believers.

And that is why God has given us the Church. When depressed, it’s probably the last place you want to be, but it is the very place you ought to be. Only in the company of other Godly men and women can you get an honest answer of whether they can see God working in your life. And if they can see God working in your life, then you know that you can take heart—you are a jar of clay with a great treasure inside.

Finally, remember to also stay in the Word of God. Again, it may be difficult to concentrate on Scripture when you are feeling down, and there are many passages that you will not be able to think clearly on. For instance, when depressed Ecclesiastes is probably the last book you will want to read. But Scripture was given for our benefit, and even if you do not immediately feel anything from it, just being in the habit can sometimes be enough to help pull you through a “dark night of the soul.”

To wrap it all up, then: No, having a “dark night of the soul” does not in itself mean you are reprobate. It does not mean you are saved either, though. Just because you go through a dark night does not mean you are pious; but it doesn’t mean you’re the spawn of Satan either. When you are going through one of those dark nights, you need to have at least one other believer who you can lean on (and preferably more than one other believer—there is a reason we are told not to forsake the assembly!). If you know they are Godly men and women, trust in their judgment because they are going to be in a far more objective position to evaluate your spiritual walk than you will be.

Today, I passed 666 miles on my bike. I’m now at 668.7 to be exact. But even before I got to the “Beast Mile” I had some misfortune.

See, yesterday biking home I was going up a hill about three miles from my house when it felt a bit like I was fighting against the brake. I got to the top of the hill and suddenly the rear tire started “ticking.” I looked down, noticed it was wobbling a bit, and hit the brake. About half a second later, there was a loud pop and I felt something hit the back of my leg (it wasn’t a hard hit–didn’t hurt or anything). By this time I had already slowed considerably, and when I came to a stop I jumped off the bike and looked at the tire.

Yup, another broken spoke. This time, the spoke wrapped itself around the rear axle too. So I had to unwind it, take the spoke off, and walk the three miles to my house.

My first bike went 2,700 miles without breaking any spokes, and on this bike I’ve broken two spokes with just 100 miles between the two (and only 670 miles of actual riding).

In any case, I got the bike in to work this morning, put in my eight hours, and then prepared to take the bike to the shop to have them look at the rear wheel…only to discover that the front tire was flat.

This makes the third tire that’s gone flat on me since June.

So I took the bike down to the bike shop and asked them to look it over and make sure A) there wasn’t any mechanical problems and B) there’s no evidence that someone is “messing with me.”

Well, it doesn’t look like anyone is doing anything. The front tire went flat because of a piece of glass that was in the tire in such a manner that it definitely was road damage. As for the spokes, we decided to try a tire with more spokes and a thicker rim to see if that might help. Unfortunately, this does mean I’ll have to shell out about $100 when the wheel comes in; but if it works it’ll be better in the long run.

The joys of owning a bike are equivalent to the joys of owning a car. Although, of course, if this sort of thing happened to a car, the labor would cost more than what I’ll be charged for the entire process on my bike. So I’ll stick with the bike. (No insurance and no gas bills, plus lower costs for repairs…off-set only by horrific weather from time to time. Yeah, I’ll make that trade.)

I used to think that bad education was just an American phenomenon.

Then I saw this: 58% of French people are pretty dumb.

And because we’re speaking of the French, I’ll file this under…Penseés.

Existence

The title of this series is What Logic Requires Us To Believe About The Existence of God. In our first post, we defined what we meant by “Logic.” Now we must look at what is meant by the word “Existence.”

In the first post, we were introduced to the philosophical differences between Parmenides (“Whatever is, is”) and Heraclitus (“Whatever is, is changing”). As I stated then, this can be seen as the difference between “actuality” and “potentiality” and is often characterized by the philosophical terms “being” and “becoming.”

The differences between the two positions of “being” and “becoming” are not to be understated. As R.C. Sproul notes:

The problem of being and becoming may be stated this way: “If all is being, then being is actually everything and potentially nothing.” Pure being has no becoming, no change, no potential.

On the other hand pure becoming would be potentially anything but actually nothing. This conundrum leads some philosophers to assert that if everything is changing, then nothing exists.

(Not A Chance. 1994. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books. p. 115)

Spoul argues that the word existence comes from the Latin meaning “to stand out from” and it is his contention that something exists when it “stands out from” being and becoming. That is, something exists when it has one foot in being and one foot in becoming (ibid, p. 115-116). This may very well fit with the Latin definition, but I maintain that it is difficult to grasp this definition conceptually.

In philosophy, the terms “existence”, “being”, “becoming”, “essence”, and “substance” have historically been argued over a great deal and it is difficult to find a consensus on the matter. The difficulties extend into language too. For instance, when we consider “Whatever is, is”—the very word “is” implies some form of existence. What does it mean to say “Something is” if you are not saying “Something exists”?

When used outside of formal philosophical discussions, the word “exists” is usually synonymous with the idea “is real.” If we say “Adam exists” we commonly mean by this that “Adam is real.” Interestingly, as pointed out in The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, when used this way the idea of “existence” really gives us a negative definition. That is, when we say “Adam exists” in the “Adam is real” sense, we mean “Adam is not imaginary.” We are not attributing anything positive about Adam (since, after all, it is so difficult to give a positive definition of “existence” in the first place.) But, of course, part of what we are affirming when we include the “nots” that Adam is not is the idea: “Adam is not nonexistent” which would require us to know what existence is in order to know what nonexistence is. And because that idea is included, we are still left in our quandary.

So what is existence? Under the circumstances, it is tempting to respond with the old quip: “I know what it is until you ask me to define it, and then I don’t know what it is anymore.” In my opinion, this actually does move us toward an understanding of what is meant by existence. This can be seen if we simply ask: “Why is it so difficult to define what existence is?”

It is difficult because of the way existence is grasped or known. I know that I exist because I have direct, immediate knowledge of my existence (through the form of perception). I do not know that anyone else exists however, because I do not have direct knowledge of other people’s experiences. While I have experienced perception on my end, I have never seen “through another person’s eyes” (and despite the over use of this trite cliché, no one else has either).

Since I have access to my own perceptions, I know that I exist in some manner. Think of it this way: Let us take on the mantle of the radical skeptic for a moment and assume that everything we perceive is an illusion. The world does not actually exist—it is a mental projection. I am not even stipulating a brain-in-a-vat situation here; there is no brain and there is no vat.

Still, no matter what else I deny, it is impossible for me to deny that I do perceive something. For instance, right now I perceive the computer monitor that I am writing this post at. I see words appear in the shape of black letters on a white background. I see the desk my computer sits upon, the pile of books next to it, etc. None of these things must exist—they could all be delusions. Yet even if they are, something must exist to experience these delusions.

Because I personally have direct access to what I “see” (even if what I see is really an illusion), I know for a fact, due to direct acquaintance with my perception, that something exists. I do not know from this experience whether that something that exists is physical, or whether what I perceive corresponds in any way to reality, or if other people that I see are experiencing their own perceptions, just as I am. I do not know this of those people—but I do know it for me.

As a result, existence is (foundationally) something we have direct knowledge of (I use the editorially “we” here, and it should not be taken as an argument that I have “proven” anyone else exists). The knowledge is little more than the idea that there is something instead of nothing. There is a level of ignorance that immediate intrudes beyond that. We know that we personally exist, but we cannot know that others exist in the same manner. We can assume it, of course. It may be a very good assumption to make. But we cannot say that what we perceive exists in the same way that we can see that we, ourselves, exist. We have direct knowledge of the latter, and can only assume the former.

Now it is certainly possible to further flesh out the implications of existence at this point, and many philosophers have done so through the years. However, for the subject of my argument for the existence of God, we need not go into that detail. All that is essential for the argument to work is for us to grant the undeniable fact that because we perceive something, there must be some form of existence (i.e., there must exist a perceiving being, even if the perceiving being is perceiving an illusion). This is existence can be as simple as the concept that there exists something rather than nothing, and we do not need to dwell on the particular attributes of that “something” that is not nothing.

In the next post in this series, we will look at what we logically must accept due to any form of existence, including this very simplistic concept of it.

I just saw this post: Washington Post, Other Newspapers Won’t Run ‘Opus’ Cartoon Mocking Radical Islam. This comes a week after they did publish an “Opus” cartoon mocking Jerry Falwell.

Here’s the interesting little tidbit. The Washington Post Writers Group is the syndicate for Berkeley Breathed, the author of “Opus.” When they sent out the cartoon to the local papers, they warned that Muslims might find the cartoon offensive. Amy Lago said she flagged the strip and, of course, also claims she “do[es] that fairly regularly with materials that might pose issues for local areas.”

Of course, Ms. Lago did not send out such an alert regarding the Falwell cartoon. Perhaps this is because, as much as they are vilified in the press, Christian fundamentalists don’t detonate.

The Christian riot consists of people boycotting Disney for a month.

The Muslim riot consists of lots of burning objects and dead people.

The article of course ends with what can only be described as “a keen sense of the obvious”:

As far as whether the Post and the Post Writers Group syndicate treated content about conservative Christians differently than it did content about conservative Muslims, it certainly could be taken that way.

“It appears on the surface to be a double standard,” Burford said, “but at the same time, the climate of the world probably informs their decision with how to go forward with it.”

(Of course, I cannot resist the temptation: “The climate of the world” informs editorial decisions? That Global Warming is so pesky!!!!)

In any case, it would be nice of certain individuals *coughcoughRichardDawkinscoughcough* would own up to the fact that not all religions are equal, and, in fact, mocking Christians is a much less successful method of suicide than mocking Muslims. But when your template is “All religions are evil” you can’t even see that which is labled under the “keen sense of the obvious.”

Well, my vacation is now over.

*sigh*

A week just isn’t long enough. At least now I can complain to Travis in person rather than via the blog….

Since one of my tactics when defending the existence of God has been to look at what accepting logic requires us to believe (most recently found in my critique of Russell’s teapot analogy), I have decided that it may be beneficial to go through this argument slower, step by step, so that it is easier to see exactly how the logical argument follows. One thing that should be noted right off the bat is, despite the fact that I like presuppositional approaches to argumentation a great deal and think ultimately they are the best approach to dealing with atheists in particular, this argument is not a presuppositional argument. As such, there are some places where this argument will be ineffective; then again, no one argument should be considered a “magic bullet” in the first place. The argument I present does not “prove beyond all doubt” that the Christian God exists (although I believe it does prove beyond all reasonable doubt that there must be some kind of deity, and I also allow that atheists can be as unreasonable as they desire to avoid this argument).

Since this will be a step-by-step look at the argument, I will not present the entire argument at one time as I have done in the past. Instead, I shall start with some basic bare-bones rules of logic that we can keep in mind as we examine the rest of the argument.

The Law of Identity

The logical law of identity is perhaps best represented by the Greek philosopher Parmenides’ statement: “Whatever is, is.” This statement can be symbolically represented in the logical format:

A is A.

In such a case, whatever A is, is (by definition) A. Because we are dealing with abstract levels of thought here, it does not concern us to actually flesh out what A is. We are concerned with seeing the relationships that go on between all objects, and therefore A can stand for any object—it could be an apple or it could be the entire universe (viewed as one lump sum), or it could be an immaterial thought (e.g. “love”); but whatever A is, that is what A is.

This is what is known as an analytically true statement (that is, it’s true by definition). Other examples of analytically true statements include: “A bachelor is an unmarried man” and “A square has four sides.” Analytically false statements, on the other hand, are statements that are false by definition: “A bachelor is a married man” would be analytically false, as would “A square has seven sides.” (Note that “A square has three sides” is still a true statement, since if an object has four sides it is also true that it has three sides; but a square cannot have more than four sides by definition.)

Since we will be discussing the difference between “being” and “becoming” in more detail later, it may be helpful to make a quick philosophical detour now. Parmenides’ statement, “Whatever is, is” was challenged by Heraclitus who stated, “Whatever is, is changing.” Heraclitus has given us some clichés that survive to this day based on this concept, such as: “You cannot step into the same river twice.” Because the river is moving, it is altered through time. The difference between Parmenides and Heraclitus boils down to the difference between “being” and “becoming”, which is often restated as the difference between “actuality” and “potentiality.” We will consider this in more detail in a later post (when we deal with existence), but I wanted to introduce it now so it won’t surprise you. For the moment, we can note that even Heraclitus’ statement can be reduced to “A is A.” If “whatever is, is changing” is valid, then we cannot define A without including the property of change. Thus, A is A remains valid because A includes within the definition of “A” the property of “becoming” if, in fact, A is becoming.

If we do not wish to include the changing aspect of A in the definition, there is another way to get around it. Since “becoming” carries with it a temporal aspect (that is, change can only happen through time) then we can also intentionally view A non-temporally to avoid that aspect. Thus, we can say “A is A” is a truth about A frozen in a specific time. Either way, the Law of Identity as expressed by “A is A” is analytically true.

The Law of Non-Contradiction

Immediately following the law of identity is the Law of Non-Contradiction. This is most simply put in the form:

A cannot be both A and ~A at the same time and in the same relationship.

To clarify, the tilde (~) represents the word “non”, and the “non” refers to the contrary of A. If A is “a horse” then ~A would be that which is not “a horse.” The Law of Non-Contradiction follows easily enough because if we know that A is A, then we know that A is not whatever A is not. A is not ~A immediately follows from A is A, because in defining A we are distinguishing A from everything else (~A). Whatever is not A, is not A.

I’ve always found the above definition of the Law of Non-Contradiction to be a bit misleading though. To demonstrate, let us define A as “A man” and restate the sentence: “A man cannot be both a man and not a man at the same time and in the same relationship.” This statement is still valid, to a point, but it can be simplified to: “A man cannot be not a man.” The rest of the sentence is ultimately superfluous because there will never be a case when a man might be not a man without violating the definition of the terms involved with ambiguity. Instead, I believe it is more precise to define the Law of Non-Contradiction as:

A cannot be (or “A cannot have the property of”) both B and ~B at the same time and in the same relationship.

Now if we substitute “A man” for A, we do not immediately run into definitional gibberish. We need to establish what B is, so let us define it as “a father.” Thus we can say: “A man (A) cannot be both a father (B) and not a father (~B) at the same time and in the same relationship.” This sentence now makes sense, because while there will never be a time when a man will be a non-man, there are times when a man may be a non-father, just as there are times a man may be a father.

In both definitions of the Law of Non-Contradiction (the classic definition and my tweaking of it), we see the temporal aspect come into play (“at the same time”), and there is also a relational aspect that we deal with (“in the same relationship”). To be sure, a man can be both a father and not a father at the same time, as long as it is not in the same relationship (indeed, this is the definition of every father: every father is the father to his own sons and daughters, but is not the father to anyone else’s children). Thus, the Law of Non-Contradiction automatically deals with the existence of multiple objects and temporal relationships—we do not need to create another law of logic when we expand out from single objects frozen in time.

These two laws of logic are the most important Laws of Logic, and from them we derive several other rules for rationality (for example, we say that circular reasoning is invalid because both sides of a contradiction can be “proven” with circular reasoning, thus resulting in a violation of the law of non-contradiction). However, we shall look at those rules of reason only as we need to in the following argument, in order to save on time.

Hil takes flak for mixing politics & terror.

In this article, we read John Edwards saying that a presidential candidate should “focus on what’s good for America, not politics, and what needs to be done to keep this country safe.”

Now firstly I am assuming that the last clause is unrelated to the “not” and he just poorly constructed this sentence. Even so, did you notice that Edwards here admits that politics isn’t good for America?

He is, in essence, admitting that his own profession is a detriment to America. Of course, rational people have known this all along (not that it’s completely bad, as anarachy would be worse than even a Hillary-run America; but still, it’s obvious to just about everyone that politics currently is at least 95% bad for America and only about 5% good for America).