Book Reviews


August 7, 2008: 12:29 pm: CalvinDudeBook Reviews

I know this one’s an oldie (and it’s also one I read before) but I have to praise the novel Red Dragon by Thomas Harris.

Put it this way. Yesterday evening, I finished reading Firestarter by Stephen King. It’s one I hadn’t read before, and that’s also a book I’d recommend. It reads a lot like The Dark Half (written about the same time period too). For one thing, it’s Stephen King condensed. I was reading scenes going, “If he wrote this now, it would be ten times longer.” Not necessarily a bad thing, but for Firestarter the fast paced writing was a better choice.

Anyway, this post is not about Firestarter! Because when I finished it around 7 o’clock or so, I was still in a reading mood and was thinking, What should I read now? And I saw Red Dragon and remembered that it was a good novel, so I decided Why not? The first chapter was a little clunky and I thought maybe I made a mistake, especially when the second chapter wasn’t that much better. But then the third chapter hit and suddenly I was at chapter 28.

Now I should point out that I don’t have a clock in my reading room/video game playing room/guitar playing room. I knew it had been dark outside for some time, so I thought, “Great, it’s after midnight and I have to work in the morning.” So I put the book down and went to my bedroom…and saw it was only 10:30! I tought, “Hey, I can read for another hour and a half!” So I went back to the R/VGP/GP room and picked up the book.

I finished it at 12:36 in the morning. Went a half hour over my “bedtime” but I couldn’t put it down when I was that close to the end.

In other words, I read the entire novel last night. It was literally a “you can’t put this down” book. Oh, there were a few slow spots, but by then the hook was in and you could plow through them. Even though I knew the ending (I read it about five or ten years ago), it was still suspenseful.

It’s a shame that Thomas Harris had to go and ruin his streak of great books by penning Hannible. :-( But if you like suspense (think James Patterson, only with longer chapters!), Red Dragon is awesome. So is Silence of the Lambs for that matter (and there are some minor repetitions between the two works).

The only drawback is that now I need to find another book to read when I get home tonight…unless I’m in a writing mood instead of a reading mood :-)

February 19, 2008: 10:55 am: CalvinDudeBook Reviews, On Writing, Personal, Satire

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Public Transit is an irreverent social commentary that deals with such issues as the Vietnam War (“It was about white Republicans forcing African Americans into a godforsaken jungle so that they would die, and thus avoid the Civil Rights movement. It’s exactly like what Shrub is doing in Iraq today” (p. 79)), animal rights (“[I]nstead of fetal pigs, they’d use real human fetuses so they wouldn’t have to worry about the ethics of dissections any longer” (p. 41)), politics (“A bullet in the Bush is worth two in the hand” (p. 76)), and the philosophy of time (“That had all been six hours ago” (p. 156)). Most notable (

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September 27, 2007: 12:03 pm: CalvinDudeBook Reviews

I finally got to start Big Bang by Simon Singh this morning. Thus far, I really like it. It opens with a review of Greek scientific thought, and while I quibble a little with Singh’s distinction between science and technology (and I need to emphasize the “little”ness of my quibble), one thing I definitely appreciate is how he actually gives us the methods by which Greeks were able to come to their many fairly-close-to-modern scientific views. In other books I’ve read that deal with Greek historical scientific thought, they mention about how certain Greeks discovered the size of the Earth and the Moon and the Sun, etc. but they never mention how this happens.

Thankfully, Singh does mention the details. :-) In any case, after I read more I’ll post a more indepth review, but Singh is definitely one of my favorite authors.

September 15, 2007: 4:28 pm: CalvinDudeBook Reviews, On Writing, Personal

Today I found my copy of Foucault’s Pendulum by Umberto Eco. It is by far my favorite Eco book. In the past, I’ve recommended it to Travis, and I’ll recommend it to everyone now. The best way to do so is a simple quote from the book:

“And what do you do?” [Belbo] asked, with what I now know was friendliness.

“In real life or in this theater?” I said, nodding at our surroundings.

“In real life.”

“I study.”

“You mean you go to the university, or you study?”

“You may not believe this, but the two need not be mutually exclusive. I’m finishing a thesis on the Templars.”

“What an awful subject,” he said. “I thought that was for lunatics.”

“No. I’m studying the real stuff. The documents of the trial. What do you know about the Templars, anyway?”

“I work for a publishing company. We deal with both lunatics and nonlunatics. After a while an editor can pick out the lunatics right away. If someone brings up the Templars, he’s almost always a lunatic.”

“Don’t I know! Their name is legion. But not all lunatics talk about the Templars. How do you identify the others?”

“I’ll explain. By the way, what’s your name?”

“Casaubon.”

“Casaubon. …All right, then. There are four kinds of people in this world: cretins, fools, morons, and lunatics.”

“And that covers everybody?”

“Oh, yes, including us. Or at least me. If you take a good look, everyone fits into one of these categories. Each of us is sometimes a cretin, a fool, a moron, or a lunatic. A normal person is just a reasonable mix of these components, these four ideal types.”

“Idealtypen.”

“Very good. You know German?”

“Enough for bibliographies.”

“When I was in school, if you knew German, you never graduated. You just spent your life knowing German. Nowadays I think that happens with Chinese.”

“My German’s poor, so I’ll graduate. But let’s get back to your typology. What about geniuses? Einstein, for example?”

“A genius uses one component in a dazzling way, fueling it with the others.” He took a sip of his drink. “Hi there, beautiful,” he said. “Made that suicide attempt yet?”

“No,” the girl answered as she walked by. “I’m in a collective now.”

“Good for you,” Belbo said. He turned back to me. “Of course, there’s no reason one can’t have collective suicides, too.”

“Getting back to the lunatics.”

“Look, don’t take me too literally. I’m not trying to put the universe in order. I’m just saying what a lunatic is from the point of view of a publishing house. Mine is an ad-hoc definition.”

“All right. My round.”

“All right. Less ice, Pilade. Otherwise it gets into the bloodstream too fast. Now then: cretins. Cretins don’t even talk; they sort of slobber and stumble. You know, the guy who presses the ice cream cone against his forehead, or enters a revolving door the wrong way.”

“That’s not possible.”

“It is for a cretin. Cretins are of no interest to us: they never come to a publishers’ offices. So let’s forget about them.”

“Let’s.”

“Being a fool is more complicated. It’s a form of social behavior. A fool is one who always talks outside his glass.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like this.” He pointed at the counter near his glass. “He wants to talk about what’s in the glass, but somehow or other he misses. He’s the guy who puts his foot in his mouth. For example, he says how’s your lovely wife to someone whose wife has just left him.”

“Yes, I know a few of those.”

“Fools are in great demand, especially on social occasions. They embarrass everyone but provide for conversation. In their positive form, they become diplomats. Talking outside the glass when someone else blunders helps to change the subject. But fools don’t interest us, either. They’re never creative, their talent is all second-hand, so they don’t submit manuscripts to publishers. Fools don’t claim that cats bark, but they talk about cats when everyone else is talking about dogs. They offend all the rules of conversations, and when they really offend, they’re magnificent. It’s a dying breed, the embodiment of all the bourgeois virtues. What they really need is a Verdurin salon or even a chez Guermantes. Do you students still read such things?”

I do.”

“Well, a fool is a Joachim Murat reviewing his officers. He sees one from Martinique covered with medals. ‘Vous êtes nègre?’ Murat asks. ‘Oui, mon général!’ the man answers. And Murat says: ‘Bravo, bravo, continuez!’ And so on. You follow me? Forgive me, but tonight I’m celebrating a historic decision in my life. I’ve stopped drinking. Another round? Don’t answer, you’ll make me feel guilty. Pilade!”

“What about morons?”

“Ah. Morons never do the wrong thing. They get their reasoning wrong. Like the fellow who says all dogs are pets and all dogs bark, and cats are pets, too, and therefore cats bark. Or that all Athenians are mortal, and all the citizens of Piraeus are mortal, so all the citizens of Piraeus are Athenians.”

“Which they are.”

“Yes, but only accidentally. Morons will occasionally say something that’s right, but they say it for the wrong reason.”

“You mean it’s okay to say something that’s wrong as long as the reason is right.”

“Of course. Why else go to the trouble of being a rational animal?”

“All great apes evolved from lower life forms, man evolved from lower life forms, therefore man is a great ape.”

“Not bad. In such statements you suspect that something’s wrong, but it takes work to show what and why. Morons are tricky. You can spot the fool right away (not to mention the cretin), but the moron reasons almost the way you do; the gap is infinitesimal. A moron is master of paralogism. For an editor, it’s bad news. It can take him an eternity to identify a moron. Plenty of morons’ books are published, because they’re convincing at first glance. An editor is not required to weed out the morons. If the Academy of Sciences doesn’t do it, why should he?”

“Philosophers don’t either. Saint Anselm’s ontological argument is moronic, for example. God must exist because I can conceive Him as a being perfect in all ways, including existence. The saint confuses existence in thought with existence in reality.”

“True, but Gaunilon’s refutation is moronic, too. I can think of an island in the sea even if the island doesn’t exist. He confuses thinking of the possible with thinking of the necessary.”

“A duel between morons.”

“Exactly. And God loves every minute of it. He chose to be unthinkable only to prove that Anselm and Gaunilon were morons. What a sublime purpose for creation, or, rather, for that act by which God willed Himself to be: to unmask cosmic moronism.”

“We’re surrounded by morons.”

“Everyone’s a moron—save me and thee. Or, rather—I wouldn’t want to offend—save thee.”

“Somehow I feel that Gödel’s theorem has something to do with all this.”

“I wouldn’t know, I’m a cretin. Pilade!”

“My round.”

“We’ll split it. Epimenides the Cretan says all Cretans are liars. It must be true, because he’s a Cretan himself and knows his countrymen well.”

“That’s moronic thinking.”

“Saint Paul. Epistle to Titus. On the other hand, those who call Epimenides a liar have to think all Cretans aren’t, but Cretans don’t trust Cretans, therefore no Cretan calls Epimenides a liar.”

“Isn’t that moronic thinking?”

“You decide. I told you, they are hard to identify. Morons can even win the Nobel prize.”

“Hold on. Of those who don’t believe God created the world in seven days, some are not fundamentalists, but of those who do believe God created the world in seven days, some are. Therefore, of those who don’t believe God created the world in seven days, some are fundamentalists. How’s that?”

“My God—to use the mot juste—I wouldn’t know. A moronism or not?”

“It is, definitely, even if it were true. Violates one of the laws of syllogisms: universal conclusions cannot be drawn from particulars.”

“And what if you were a moron?”

“I’d be in excellent, venerable company.”

“You’re right. And perhaps, in a logical system different from ours, our moronism is wisdom. The whole history of logic consists of attempts to define an acceptable notion of moronism. A task too immense. Every great thinker is someone else’s moron.”

“Thought as the coherent expression of moronism.”

“But what is moronism to one is incoherence to another.”

“Profound. It’s two o’clock. Pilade’s about to close, and we still haven’t got to the lunatics.”

“I’m getting there. A lunatic is easily recognized. He is a moron who doesn’t know the ropes. The moron proves his thesis; he has a logic, however twisted it may be. The lunatic, on the other hand, doesn’t concern himself at all with logic; he works by short circuits. For him, everything proves everything else. The lunatic is all idée fixe, and whatever he comes across confirms his lunacy. You can tell him by the liberties he takes with common sense, by his flashes of inspiration, and by the fact that sooner or later he brings up the Templars.”

(Eco, Umberto. 1988. Foucault’s Pendulum. New York: Ballantine Books. pp. 54-58)

This little section gives you a bit of the wit that Eco has. It’s that dry kind of humor, and his ability to play on words so magnificently, that makes this book my favorite of those I’ve read from Eco.

September 3, 2007: 9:06 pm: CalvinDudeBook Reviews

I just finished re-reading The Code Book by Simon Singh. I had forgotten how much fun it was going over some of the various facets of codes. I first did so because of research for The Outlaw, which employed a couple of trivial codes.

Singh’s book is great for that, and his website offers even more. On that site, you can actually download a CD-ROM that contains, amongst a wealth of other information, a working Enigma emulator (as in the machine used for German codes during WWII). It’s actually designed to go with the book, but you can learn a lot from the CD-ROM itself. And it’s free, if you download it.

In any case, I won’t bug anyone by posting anything in code now. In truth, since I’ve been working on some of the examples on the CD-ROM for the past couple of hours, my brain is now mush and there’s no way that I’d be able to come up with a decent one to pester you guys with :-P

Still, I highly recommend the book, if you have any interest at all in codes. It’s well worth your time!

August 13, 2007: 8:48 am: CalvinDudeAtheism, Book Reviews, Philosophy, Science

This weekend, I read God: The Failed Hypothesis: How Science Shows That God Does Not Exist by Victor J. Stenger (2007. Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books.). Any book that has two subtitles is obviously going to be worth commenting on…

Stenger’s book is typical of the new breed of anti-theists (including folks like Dawkins, Harris, et al) insomuch as he relies on a lot of hand waving and rhetoric to overcome his horrendous logical and philosophical problems. Stenger begins by defining what he means by God (which, unlike many anti-theists, he at least capitalizes when he writes it, leaving the uncapitalized “god” for any other deity that might be invoked). Stenger’s God is called the Judeo-Christian-Islamic God, which already presents us with a huge problem. There is no Judeo-Christian-Islamic God! Right off the bat, we could easily agree that this concept of God is a failed hypothesis because it is so poorly construed as to be irrelevant to any religion.

Indeed, Stenger’s “God” only exists in the minds of atheists who use it as the strawman they can torch. But even ignoring that, Stenger still goes out of his way to define God as something that no one believes in:

Note…that the traditional attributes of omniscience, omnipotence, and omnibenevolence–the 3O characteristics usually associated with the Judeo-Christian-Islamic God–have been omitted. Such a God is already ruled out by the arguments of logical inconsistency summarized above (p. 42)

We will examine Stenger’s “ruling out” of the 3Os later, but one is left wondering what Stenger thinks he will accomplish if he “disproves” a God that doesn’t have “characteristics usually associated with” what people actually believe. Why does he spend so much time and effort into a project that on the one hand is completely irrelevant to any actual religion, and on the other hand ignores so many atheists who argue that science cannot look into matters of religion?

The problems only mount. Stenger treats evidence that rules out one form of theism as evidence that rules out all theism (thus engaging in a category error as well as the fallacy of composition). And indeed, sometimes what he argues against doesn’t even have to deal with religion. Stenger treats disproving ESP and psychic fortune telling as evidence against God too (despite the fact that God condemns necromancers in the Old Testament—thus in at least two of the three representatives of his Judeo-Christian-Islamic mish mash—so why would we expect God to demonstrate Himself through these mediums?).

Most importantly of all, Stenger doesn’t bother to acquaint himself with the basic beliefs of the religions he’s criticizing. He argues, for instance:

The parts of the human body hardly resemble a watch. In an article in Scientific American titled “If Humans Were Built to Last,” S. Jay Olshansky, Bruce Carnes, and Robert N. Butler have looked at flaws in the human body and shown how an engineer might have fixed them to enable us to live a hundred years or more in better health. They trace our physical defects to the Rube Goldberg way evolution cobbles together new features by tinkering with existing ones (p. 69)

Yet had Stenger simply acquainted himself with the concept of sin, he wouldn’t make such a foolish mistake here. The human body is not “perfectly designed” in its present environment, because it has been corrupted by the noetic, physical, and spiritual effects of sin. Further, God has specifically limited the length of a person’s life, according to Scripture. It would hardly seem logical to complain that the human body isn’t able to live an extra 100 years when God has specifically limited the ability of people to live that long.

In any case, lest anyone be swayed by Stenger’s words, let us now dismantle them systematically.

The Hypothesis

For his argument, Stenger gives us his following definition of God:

A supreme being is hypothesized to exist having the following attributes:

1. God is the creator and preserver of the universe.

2. God is the architect of the structure of the universe and the author of the laws of nature.

3. God steps in whenever he wishes to change the course of events, which may include violating his own laws as, for example, in response to human entreaties.

4. God is the creator and preserver of life and humanity where human beings are special in relation to other life-forms.

5. God has endowed humans with immaterial eternal souls that exist independent of their bodies and carry the essence of a person’s character and selfhood.

6. God is the source of morality and other human values such as freedom, justice, and democracy.

7. God has revealed truths in scriptures and by communicating directly to select individuals throughout history.

8. God does not deliberately hide from any human being who is open to finding evidence for his presence (p. 41-42).

Given this definition, he provides his hypothesis:

1. Hypothesize a God who plays an important role in the universe.

2. Assume that God has specific attributes that should provide objective evidence for his existence.

3. Look for such evidence with an open mind.

4. If such evidence is found, conclude that God may exist.

5. If such objective evidence is not found, conclude beyond a reasonable doubt that a God with these properties does not exist (p. 43, italics his).

Now we’ve already noted how his definition of God doesn’t match very many people’s actual beliefs, lacking the 3O (as he calls it). To that we can add the errors of definition step 6—for instance, simply trying to define “freedom” and “democracy” before trying to attribute the source of them to God is no trivial task (although Stenger treats them that way); “justice” is only less trivial because we can link it to “morality” earlier in the definition. Further, definition step 8 is based on a naïve understanding of the relationship sinners in rebellion against God have with an “open” mind. As written, I completely agree with step 8, but have to point out it is completely trivial—there is no one who is “open” or “neutral” in their approach to God, but God would indeed not hide from such a mythical person. We could just as easily add a step 9: “God does not deliberately hide from unicorns, leprechauns, or honest politicians” too.

Furthermore, we have Stenger’s appeal to “objective evidence in hypothesis step 5. This is by no means the only place he uses the term “objective”, for we also read:

In this book, I will take science to refer to the performing of objective observations by eye and by instrument and the building of models to describe those observations (p. 12).

True that science generally makes the assumption called methodological naturalism, which refers to the self-imposed convention that limits inquiry to objective observations of the world and generally (but, as we will see, not necessarily) seeks natural accounts of all phenomena (p. 15, italics his)

Notice that all these quotes rely heavily on the word “objective”—yet nowhere does Stenger provide a way for us to know what is meant by “objective.” Given how heavily objectivity weighs on his claims, the fact that he has not even bothered to define the term for us is a huge black mark on his methodology. His lack of precision means that it is possible to “escape” from every single one of his arguments, which renders them all useless (regardless of whether you believe in God or not).

Indeed, baring some form of transcendent philosophy, how could science give us any concept of “objective evidence”? Usually this is done by asserting that multiple people have to observe the same event (yet when that occurs in the case of, say, multiple observations of miracles, skeptics label it as “mass hallucination”); or that it has to be predictive (yet when this occurs in Bible prophecy, for instance, skeptics label it as “self-fulfilling prophecy”), etc. But the fact is, even if we ignore the skeptics, there is still no scientific way to have objectivity, because science is based on observation, and observation is a subjective experience for all involved. It cannot make the leap to objectivity without a controling philosophy governing science—and which one is a point that is much in dispute.

The scientist believes that he has the capability to make a neutral observation. Yet theology teaches us a sinner in rebellion against God cannot have an open mind to weigh evidence. But even aside from the Scriptural claims, basic science demonstrates the myth of “neutral observation.” Stenger himself admits to the theory-laden nature of observation (p. 35). But he apparently doesn’t understand the philosophical consequences of this. Moti Ben-Ari, in Just A Theory: Exploring the Nature of Science (2005. Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books.)—note that it is also published by Prometheus; you know, that right-wing, biased, theistic organization—notes:

Galileo was the first to “observe” the moons of Jupiter and the mountains on the Moon through his telescope. If other people looking through the telescope did not make these observations, it was not because Galileo had better eyesight or because they were being unreasonably obstinate. When you look up into the sky, there are no legends (like the balloons containing conversation in cartoons) that tell you what you see: “Hi! I’m Europa, a moon of Jupiter!” To identify these points of light as stars or planets, you have to know what you are looking for. If this sounds somewhat circular, it is, and it can help explain why scientific advance is difficult (p. 7)

Clearly, science must start with observation, but once some initial observations have been made, a circular process takes place. Observations lead to theories, which guide further observations, which influence the theories. The presentation of the process of science as initially and primarily inductive is so oversimplified as to be useless. There are serendipitous discoveries in science, in which observations truly instigate the development of theories, but they inevitably occur to those who have the necessary framework within which to understand the importance of what they are observing (p. 8)

Theory-laden observation means that it is impossible for scientists to have objectivity, and therefore they cannot have an open mind. They will always rely on previous theories that will frame the issue. This is, indeed, the very reason why scientists must hold all their view provisionally. If they actually had objective truth, they wouldn’t need to qualify their statements by admitting their provisional status.

“Objective” is not the only undefined word that causes Stenger problems. A further problem lies in his non-defining of the term “plausible.” For instance, Stenger writes:

If we can find plausible ways in which all the existing gaps in scientific knowledge one day may be filled, then the scientific arguments for the existence of God fail. We could then conclude that God need not be included in the models we build to describe phenomena currently observable to humans. Of course, this leaves open the possibility that a god exists that is needed to account for phenomena outside the realm of current human observation. He might show up in some future space expedition, or in some experiment at a giant particle accelerator. However, that god would not be a god who plays an important role in human life. It is not God (p. 17).

Of course this all hinges on what you accept as “plausible.” In reality, Stenger’s argument is about as meaningful as if I said, “If we can find plausible ways in which this book could have been written without Stenger, then the scientific arguments for the existence of Stenger fail. We could then conclude that Stenger need not be included in the models we build to describe books currently observable to readers. Of course, this leaves open the possibility that a stenger exists that is needed to account for books outside the realm of current libraries. He might show up in some future space periodical, or in some text through a giant Galactic inter-library loan. However, that stenger would not be a stenger who plays an important role in the production of this book. It is not Stenger.”

Indeed, I could continue this quite some way. Since there are millions of books in the world written by non-Stengers, Stenger is obviously not a required being for the production of this book. In fact, it is more plausible that Stenger does not exist than that he does (after all, there are nearly 7 billion non-Stengers compared to only one proposed Stenger, who’s actions could be done by any number of those 7 billion non-Stengers). Etc. But we can already see how absurd the structure of Stenger’s argument is.

So in a very real sense, Stenger is setting up an experiment that violates the rules of science, logic, and philosophy, and doesn’t even match the religious views of any great number of people. This calls into question the validity of the premise of his book already, but we shall examine his arguments anyway. Before we do so, let us first look at Stenger’s dismissal of “the 3O”: omniscience, omnipresence, and omnibenevolence.

Sadly, Stenger doesn’t give us much to work with here. Instead, he says: “For the details, see the individual essays in the compilation by Martin and Monnier” (p. 31); which is nothing more than an argument from authority presented as if it was valid. Stenger then lists out the philosophical arguments without providing any definitions of the terms or anything useful to work with before concluding: “The reader will undoubtedly see much in these bare formal statements that needs clarification; again I address you to the original essays for details and additional disproofs of this kind” (p. 33). Since Stenger is using these arguments to deal away with what he has said constitutes the majority view of God, it would have behooved him to actually have done his work here. Instead, we are left with a slip-shod sleight of hand to replace actual thought—how very scientific.

In any case, here are the arguments.

An All-Virtuous Being Cannot Exist

1. God is (by definition) a being that which no greater being can be thought.

2. Greatness includes the greatness of virtue.

3. Therefore, God is a being that which no being could be more virtuous.

4. But virtue involves overcoming pains and danger.

5. Indeed, a being can only be properly said to be virtuous if it can suffer pain or be destroyed.

6. A God that can suffer pain or is destructible is not one than which no greater being can be thought.

7. For you can think of a greater being, one that is nonsuffering and indestructible.

8. Therefore, God does not exist.

Of course it is not at all clear that “virtue involves overcoming pains and danger” as 4 stipulates, nor is it all together clear that “a being can only be properly said to be virtuous if it can suffer pain or be destroyed.” These definitions of virtue seem to be specifically written for this “disproof.” Further, we can think of someone who overcomes pains and dangers who is not virtuous—for instance, a robber who risks the dangers of prison, who sprains his ankle and injects himself with heroin to kill the pain, is not virtuous in anyone’s book despite having overcome danger and pain. In any case, even if we accept this definition of virtue, it is by no means the case that this is the virtue that is referred to in 3.

Additionally we can throw in the fact that this definition of virtue makes it impossible to ever have a “greatness of virtue”, for greatness of virtue would require infinite pain and infinite danger—if it ever ceased at time T1, then a being that went through pain and danger for a time (T2) that was more than T1 would be more virtuous. Therefore, the overcoming of pain and danger must be eternal; but if it is eternal, then it is never “overcome” and thus a being that would suffer an eternity of pain or danger cannot be said to be virtuous for it has overcome no pain or danger. Therefore, eternal pain and suffering does not yield eternal virtue, and the term virtue as it is being used in the above argument is irrational, for there can be no such thing as “greatness of virtue” as defined by this argument. This means 2 is false; the argument is refuted.

The next argument is:

Worship and Moral Agency

1. If any being is God, he must be a fitting object of worship.

2. No being could possibly be a fitting object of worship, since worship requires the abandonment of one’s role as an autonomous moral agent.

3. Therefore, there cannot be any being who is God.

To which I respond: Huh? Who defines worship as “abandonment of one’s role as an autonomous moral agent”? Further, why would that definition render it impossible for another being to be a “fitting object of worship”?

Stenger then gives us the problem of evil, which has already been beaten into the dust. There’s no need to rehash that, so we’ll move on to the next argument:

A Perfect Creator Cannot Exist

1. If God exists, then he is perfect.

2. If God exists, then he is the creator of the universe.

3. If a being is perfect, then whatever he creates must be perfect.

4. But the universe is not perfect.

5. Therefore, it is impossible for a perfect being to be the creator of the universe.

6. Hence, it is impossible for God to exist.

This argument actually relies on the ambiguity of the term “perfect.” What does it mean to say that the universe is (or is not) perfect? There are two different ways we can take this: we can compare the universe to an ideal universe, in which case the ideal would be defined as perfect. (Of course, this leads to all sorts of questions, such as How would we know what an ideal universe would look like in the first place? and Isn’t our assumption of a perfect universe rather heavily anthropomorphically biased? etc.) But the secondary definition of perfect is that the universe is behaving as it was intended to behave. That is, if I design a box with a hinge that will open and close, and it accomplishes what I want it to accomplish, then I have a perfect box with a hinge; I do not need to design a box that can also give me the time or play music for me. That is not the intent of my creating the box. (Of course, this leads to all sorts of questions, such as How would we know what the designer of the universe intended to make?)

A Transcendent Being Cannot Be Omnipresent

1. If God exists, then he is transcendent (i.e., outside space and time).

2. If God exists, he is omnipresent.

3. To be transcendent, a being cannot exist anywhere in space.

4. To be omnipresent, a being must exist everywhere in space.

5. Hence, it is impossible for a transcendent being to be omnipresent.

6. Therefore, it is impossible for God to exist.

This does not follow, however. Imagine, for a moment, a being that exists in the fourth dimension. Actually, before we do that, let’s simplify it. Imagine a two-dimensional world that consists of a 1 x 1 square on a flat surface (such as a sheet of paper). Imagine that there is a cube one millimeter above the square in the third dimension, a dimension that the square is unaware of. This cube is 2 x 2 x 2 (for ease of thought, we will just make it twice as big on each surface as the original square). This cube transcends the square’s universe, for it exists in a different dimension. Now put the cube against the paper such that the square is covered and the distance between the plane and the cube’s face is 0. The cube is now touching every single point on the square, by virtue of the third dimension, as is therefore omnipresent to all points. Yet the cube is touching every point on the square in the third dimension—a dimension the square does not know exists! Thus, the cube is still transcendent. It exists at every point in the square’s universe and fully permeates it—there is no space between the point on the flat surface of the paper and the point just above it where the square is being touched. Yet, the square remains ignorant of how this process can work, for the square can never leave the two dimensions.

Now expand that out. A fourth dimensional object that is sufficiently large to touch every point in the universe can be omnipresent and yet still transcendent. The same would be true of any object with higher dimensions than that. Currently, M theory proposes that the universe consists of eleven dimensions. A twelve dimensional object that was larger than the universe can be both transcendent and omnipresent quite easily. But we do not need to go that far in reality, for theologians would only be dealing with the three dimensions of perception anyway, so a four dimensional object would be sufficient.

In any case, existence “outside” of space and time is not what theologians mean by the term transcendent anyway. They simply mean that God exists fully as God at every point of existence. Thus, God transcends because He is not localized—He is universal. Omnipresence means God is everywhere; transcendence means that God is fully God wherever He is (there is not “more of God” in a church building than in a pub, for instance).

A Personal Being Cannot Be Nonphysical

1. If God exists, then he is nonphysical.

2. If God exists, then he is a person (or a personal being).

3. A person (or personal being) needs to be physical.

4. Hence, it is impossible for God to exist.

Of course, no argument is given as to why a person (or personal being) needs to be physical. This is simply asserted. I would, in fact, reverse this argument: personhood is nonphysical. That is, what makes us persons is not merely a physical body, but the immaterial spirit as well. Thus, I would reverse this argument to state that if humans beings are persons, then they have an immaterial aspect to their existence (i.e. a soul). At this point, we see that the basic disagreement as to 3 renders this argument moot.

The final argument is:

The Paradox of Omnipotence

1. Either God can create a stone that he cannot life, or he cannot create a stone that he cannot life.

2. If God can create a stone that he cannot life, then he is not omnipotent.

3. If God cannot create a stone that he cannot life, then he is not omnipotent.

4. Therefore, God is not omnipotent.

This is such a trivial argument, it has been countered countless times already. Omnipotence does not mean the ability to do that which is logically impossible (and in God’s case, it also excludes the ability of God to sin). God is not omnipotent in that sense. Instead, we say that God can do all things that are possible, so long as they are consistent with His moral standards. As such, Stenger’s reproduction of this argument is an example of his engaging in the fallacy of the irrelevant thesis.

Since these “disproofs” took all of two and a half pages out of the book, it is obvious that they had very little to do with the content of the rest of the book. So let us now turn our attention to that.

Design

Stenger begins his attack against his strawman deity by launching an attack on the concept of design. There is nothing original in his attack. Further, he consistently misidentifies the Intelligent Design (ID) movement as being religious in nature, but such is erroneous as we have already demonstrated on this site numerous times. The fact that Stenger treats the ID movement as religious causes him to make some very elementary errors.

For instance, he writes on “bad design”:

Some evolutionists have tried to counter the Paley claim [i.e., the watch analogy] with what might be called the argument from bad design, pointing out all of the ways that a competent engineer could improve upon what nature has given us (p. 68-69, italics his).

Yet this argument is not attacking either the ID movement or more traditional Creationism at all. Let me give you a specific example: Microsoft Windows Me. The version of this OS has got to be the worst OS ever programmed. When I had it on my old system, it was a rare day that went by when I did not get the infamous BsoD (”Blue Screen of Death”), but only because it was a rare day that I didn’t use my computer. But despite all its flaws, it would be downright stupid of me to say, “Microsoft Windows Me was not designed.” Thus, actual poor design does not rule out a designer at all (therefore, ID does not suffer by this argument since ID doesn’t require a perfect designer).

Or let us give another more recent illustration: the bridge that collapsed into the Mississippi River. The structure of the bridge failed, but in this instance that may not be indicative of bad design at all. Instead, it appears more likely the culprit was poor maintenance of a good design. Since Creationists believe that Adam sinned and that we are no longer in our perfect state, this is analogous to a perfect design being defaced by “poor maintenance.”

So evidence of “poor design” is both not evidence against a designer and not evidence that the design itself was poor in the first place—perhaps the design was perfectly fine, yet it was not maintained correctly. Poor design is therefore a fallacious response to the design argument.

Immaterialism

Stenger then moves on to the immaterial world. Here, he treats experiments against ESP and telekinesis as if they have bearing on religious claims. While such is rather humorous under other circumstances, it is only annoying here.

Stenger moves to the question of prayer after that. He states:

One of the defining characteristic of the Judeo-Christian-Islamic God is that he is believed to respond to entreaties from the faithful and steps in to change the natural course of events when he is sufficiently moved by the intensity and piety of the petitioner (or, whenever he wishes) (p. 94).

This quote gives us such horrendous theology that there is no question as to why the experiments Stenger looks at would fail. Firstly, Stenger ignores the rather basic point that Jews, Christians, and Muslims by-and-large all believe that members of the other religions are not saved and that God is under no obligation to listen to the prayers of the heathen. Lumping all the religions together like this makes it impossible for Stenger to validate prayer. Indeed, Stenger ironically misses the fact that the greatest disproof of the real Judeo-Christian-Islamic Gods as a group would be if the prayer support did work.

Stenger moves from prayer to immortality, which he rejects by examining…near death experiences. That’s right, NDE is supposed to provide evidence against immortality because NDE can be explained by physical processes. How this escapes non sequitur is never explained, and makes it a typical argument from this book.

Cosmology

Stenger moves into cosmology, which is a very frustrating chapter if you’ve recently read Brian Green’s two excellent books The Elegant Universe and The Fabric of the Cosmos, as I have. Stenger engages in gross simplification and horrendous one-sided reporting of the theories of cosmology to “prove”:

The Creator, if he existed, left no imprint. Thus he might as well have been nonexistent (p. 121).

Since the science involved is so long, I will take time at a later date in a separate post (if I feel like it) to examine the cosmological claims more fully. For now, it is sufficient to point out another thing Stenger said:

I also need to respond here to an objection that has been raised by physicists who have heard me make this statement. They point out, correctly, that we currently do not have a theory of quantum gravity that we can apply to describe physics earlier than the Planck time. I have adopted Einstein’s operational definition of time as what you read on a clock. In order to measure a time interval smaller than the Planck time, you would need to make that measurement in a region smaller than the plank length, which equals the Planck time multiplied by the speed of light. According to the Heisenberg uncertainty principle of quantum mechanics, such a region would be a black hole, from which no information can escape. This implies that no time interval can be defined that is smaller than the Planck time (p. 120)

Aside from the fact that Stephen Hawking has demonstrated that black holes do radiate at a very low level, it is important to note that Stenger is arguing that we can push the Big Bang back only to the point in time that is equivalent to Planck time after the big bang occurred. We can never probe earlier than that. As such, science cannot give a reason for why the Big Bang happened. As such, Stenger cannot say that the Creator left no imprint—for the very existence of the universe itself can be that imprint. To say that the existence of the universe itself is not that imprint, or that it can be explained by natural means, is to go beyond science, as Stenger himself admits. Therefore, his conclusion that God might as well be nonexistent is assuming too much even if we grant him everything.

When Stenger moves on to the laws of physics, he claims that these arose out of nothing. In this instance, he at least admits:

My views on this particular issue are not recognized by a consensus of physicists, although I insist that the science I have used is well established and conventional (p. 131).

But Stenger then plays his shell game:

Once again, I do not have the burden of proving this scenario. The believer who wishes to argue that God is the source of physical law has the burden of proving (1) that my account is wrong, (2) that no other natural account is possible, and (3) that God did it (p. 132).

Note that Stenger is violating all kinds of rules of logic here. Not only is he requiring someone to disprove his theory (i.e., he is begging the question), but he requires that in the process the theist must prove a universal negative—that no other natural account is possible. Such is absurd and an irrational requirement. Stenger seeks to win by definition, but he can only do so if he abandons reason.

The Anthropic Principle

Stenger then turns to the way that Earth appears to be designed for humans. Unfortunately, he demonstrates his bias very quickly by asserting:

Let us take a look at the scientific facts about life in the universe hopefully unbiased by theological considerations (p. 141)

He apparently has no problem with atheological considerations though.

In any case, one striking comment by Stenger is:

Of course, one might wonder why a perfect God would build a universe that was so delicately balanced. If he really designed it for life, you would think he could have made it a lot easier for life to evolve (p. 145, emphasis added).

What makes this quote so interesting is that the previous page, he said:

Clearly we are not yet in a position to determine whether complex life is common or rare in the universe. However, the fact is that complex life exists on one planet, Earth. And that existence is not implausible, given the conditions we know exist in the universe (p. 144, emphasis added).

So which is it? Is it “not implausible” for life to evolve or is it difficult? (Note: to avoid confusion, we are not talking about Darwinian evolution here; we are talking about the ability of life to come from nonlife, as the context of the quotes should still make clear.) Stenger wants to play both sides of the fence here because he is not dealing with science, but with his presuppositions. Indeed, Stenger displays them here:

The anthropic argument for the existence of God can be turned on its head to provide an argument against the existence of God. If God created a universe with at least one major purpose being the development of human life, then it is reasonable to expect that the universe should be congenial to human life. Now, you might say that God may have had other purposes besides humanity. As has been noted several times in this book, apologists can always invent a god who is consistent with the data (p. 154)

And in response, I can note that atheists can always invent a god who is inconsistent with the data and then pretend that that god is the God theists actually worship…

In any case, continuing with the above, Stenger then notes:

If the universe were congenial to human life, then you would expect it to be easy for humanlike life to develop and survive throughout the universe (p. 154)

But this doesn’t at all follow. If God’s purpose was primarily human oriented, it is also human oriented in a specific place. Perhaps God never intended humans to go into the vastness of space. Maybe God wanted humans in a little corner of the universe for His own purposes. Just because you would do things differently is no argument that God had to do it your way.

But we should not expect Stenger to concern himself with considering what God thinks anyway. After all, he cannot even state the issue correctly:

Earth is not the flat immovable circle at the center of a firmament or a vault of fixed stars, circled by the sun, moon, and planets pictured in Genesis (p. 155)

Except of course that it is not pictured that way in Genesis. It was pictured that way by Aristotle. Stenger is then reading Aristotelian physics into the Biblical text and eisegeting it to mean whatever he needs it to mean.

Further, he errs when he says:

In fact, when you think of it, why would an infinitely powerful God even need six days? Wouldn’t he have the ability to create everything in an instant? And, why would he have to rest when he was all done? (p. 157)

A) Why is Stenger concerned with omnipotence after he dismissed it from the start? B) Stenger, as is typical of anti-theists, doesn’t even have a Sunday school level grasp of Creationism, yet he deigns to criticize it. The six-day creation period has nothing to do with God’s power, nor did God “need” to rest. The six-day pattern followed by one-day rest is just that—a pattern. It was for man’s sake that we have this pattern. The Sabbath was made for man, as Christ Himself pointed out. So you ask why God did as He did: for our sake.

But accepting this would refute Stenger’s claims, so he doesn’t even bother to acquaint himself with the issue.

Amazingly, just after this, Stenger goes on to complain: “Let us also ponder the enormous waste of matter” (p. 157). But how is it a waste for an omnipotent God to create lots of matter? If it is a mark against God’s power that it took Him six days instead of an instant, then surely the excess of matter would be a mark for God’s power, wouldn’t it?

Of course there is a bigger issue. Does this not presume that Stenger knows the purpose for why God does what He does (and as shown above, Stenger cannot grasp even the most obvious purposes of God as spelled out explicitly in Scripture)? Does this not also presume that God’s creation of extra matter somehow diminishes the power of God, such that He is less for having created it? Else how could it be considered a waste?

Revelation

Stenger moves on to revelation, wherein he shows yet again that he is incapable of interpreting Scripture as it was written. (Interestingly, we should note that despite his calling God the Judeo-Christian-Islamic God, he never looks at Islam in this chapter…) This isn’t much of a shock by now; indeed, one wonders how much of the Bible Stenger has actually read and how much of it he has “read” by looking at essays by Bertrand Russell or by reading the Skeptic’s Annotated Bible and such. Therefore, there isn’t anything new in this chapter either.

One thing that I will point out is Stenger’s flawed understanding of what revelation is supposed to accomplish. He states:

If a person undergoes a religious experience that truly places her in communication with some reality from beyond the material world, then we may reasonably expect that person to have gained some deep, new knowledge about the world that can be checked against the empirical facts (p. 171).

This is not at all a reasonable assumption, however. A) Revelation wasn’t designed to give people super-knowledge about the universe; it was to give people information about God. B) If information given in revelation can be seen empirically, then revelation is unnecessary here.

Thus, Stenger doesn’t appreciate the point of revelation. It is no difficult task for science to disprove something no one believes in. Further, Stenger ignores the sin issue (again), stating: “But [skeptic's] eyes are open and we see no convincing evidence for phenomena that under the God hypothesis would be expected to hit us all square in the face. If the religious experience were as deeply significant as the monotheistic religions have taught, then data would exist that even the most die-hard skeptic could not ignore (p. 173).” Yet when the issue of sin is examined, we see that there is indeed data that even the least die-hard skeptic would be able to ignore quite easily. And this ought not be that difficult for Stenger to grasp, for he basically considers the reverse to be the case already (that is, he basically already affirms that no matter how obvious science is, there will still be believers who are deluded into not accepting it). Why does this road only run one way in Stenger’s mind?

Morality

Stenger moves into questions of morality, where he is on even worse philosophical footing. Again, there is nothing new here. In fact, this section reads as if Stenger was John Loftus.

That Stenger doesn’t comprehend the nature of Scripture’s moral precepts is evident when he claims: “The theist may respond that the above quotation is not a law but merely the report of an event, but the stories of the Bible are supposed to provide guides to proper behavior (p. 204).” No, the stories are the telling of historical events. When the Scripture details events that occurs, it is not telling us “This is how you ought to behave” any more than reading a history textbook is a moral guide. It is the Law that gives the moral precepts.

Naturally, Stenger disagrees with large portions of the Law itself. Yet his disagreement has more to do with personal taste than anything else; and until he can give a reason why his view is right and the Bible’s view is wrong, then he has no argument against the morality of God.

One ironic part of Stenger’s chapter is that after accusing the Bible (and the Qur’an—at least this time he included that!) of promoting atrocities throughout history, he lists three religious fanatics (Yigal Amir, a Jew who assassinated Yitzhak Rabin; Paul Hill, who murdered an abortion doctor in 1994; and Mohammed Bouyeri, who murdered Theo van Gogh in 2004) and concludes:

But, thankfully, they are the exception. Furthermore, each of these fanatics would be hard-pressed to demonstrate where exactly in their scriptures were they commanded to commit their dreadful acts (p. 206).

This leads me to ask: which is it? Do these Scriptures promote atrocity or is the one who commits evil in the name of the Scriptures “hard-pressed to demonstrate where” they got these view from “their scriptures”?

After this, Stenger gives the argument from the problem of evil yet again. Since we have dealt with it numerous times already, I will skip this section, only providing one quote which illustrates Stenger’s fallacy:

We are once again confronted with the undeniable fact that our instincts about good and evil take precedence over supposed divine commands, when those commands offend both the common sense and the reason that has been cultivated over the centuries as humankind has gradually and incompletely evolved from brutish predecessors (p. 224).

In other words, our morality is right and God’s is wrong; therefore God is evil (if He exists). But of course this begs the question that our morality is right. And if our morality is simply what has evolved from “brutish predecessors” then we know that our morality is likely to be biased toward brutality.

Possible and Impossible Gods

The penultimate chapter of the book deals with various possible types of gods. It is interesting to note Stenger’s over-all position here:

The exact relationship between the elements of scientific models and whatever true reality lies out there is not of major concern. When scientists have a model that describes the data, that is consistent with other established models, and that can be put to practical use, what else do they need? (p. 228-229)

Such an admission gives us more of Stenger’s control philosophy, which in this case is basically pragmatism. Ultimately, he doesn’t care about which God is possible to exist; he only cares about his models. (This is somewhat contradicted by the fact that he argues against the existence of God…but let’s overlook that for now.)

Stenger’s entire position is an anthropocentric position. Virtually every “disproof” he brings forth about God is a disproof only if one assumes the primacy of human (specifically Stenger’s) thought. Thus we see conclusions like:

A God who fine-tuned the laws and constants of physics for life, in particular human life, fails to agree with the fact that the universe is not congenial to human life, being tremendously wasteful of time, space, and matter from the human perspective (p. 230, emphasis mine).

In the end, Stenger is not interested in what is real, but in what he wants to think is real. He has his version of reality, and thus he will always read the evidence to match that version. He is not seeking outside evidence to form his idea—his idea is already formed, and the outside evidence is pasted in in an ad hoc fashion.

Further, he continues to ignore the sin problem, stating:

In short, a perfectly-loving God would not deny knowledge of his existence to any human who is not resistant to that knowledge. The empirical fact that many humans are open to knowledge of God and still do not believe demonstrates that such a God does not exist (p. 238).

Yet the noetic effects of sin on the human mind and will negate this claim. It is not the case that “many humans are open to knowledge of God and still do not believe” for humans are depraved individuals. And in fact, this is evidenced by the conclusion of the chapter:

The existence of the Catholic, evangelical, extreme Muslim, extreme Judaic God who hides himself from all but a selected elite cannot be totally ruled out. All I can say is that we have not one iota of evidence that he exists, and, if he does exist, I personally want nothing to do with him. This is a possible god, but a hideous one (p. 240, emphasis added).

In short, if Christianity is correct, then Stenger merely adds to its correctness by pointing out that he does not want anything to do with it; which is exactly the point made by me above. He is not looking at this from an objective position, for he considers this possibility to be hideous, and one he wants nothing to do with. We can hardly consider him to fairly evaluate the evidence with this kind of attitude toward what is not only the actual belief of the majority of theists, but where the fair reading of the text of Scripture leads us to go.

A Godless Universe

Stenger closes the book by dealing with the question of the usefulness of religion. As would be expected, he doesn’t think religion does any good, only evil (of course he hasn’t provided any philosophical reasoning as to what good or evil is in order to make this judgment).

To make his case, Stenger talks about the various wars that have occurred due to religion (forgetting the various wars that occurred apart from religious motives) and the like. Again, fairly typical stuff. He argues that the good that people of religion do is something they would have done anyway (p. 249) because they were basically good people to begin with, thus they don’t need God.

One must wonder how basically good people could have created such a horrific institution as religion, if Stenger’s views are all correct. But he doesn’t concern himself much with consistency at this point. Instead, the book ends with emotive appeals not based in logic or science at all.

Now, you might say this has nothing to do with the existence or nonexistence of God. However, the concept of a beneficent, loving God held by most people would reasonably be expected to lead to a better world when God is widely worshipped. Well, God is widely worshipped and we do not have a better world because of it. On the contrary, the world seems worse off as a result of faith (p. 250)

Again, I wonder how Stenger could possibly know what the world would have become like apart from religion. Does he have access to special knowledge that no one else does? Can he read parallel universes?

No. He’s making this up because he wants it to be true. This isn’t science, this is a just-so story.

So, to wrap it up, we see that Stenger’s examination of the God hypothesis is too flawed to be useful. The hypothesis he uses gives a God that no one believes in. The problems that confront this fictional God are easily thwarted by simple understanding of Christian theism. Finally, Stenger has nothing better to offer than his own personal relativistic concepts. On the whole, the book was not very useful at all. There’s nothing in it that you couldn’t already find at Debunking Christianity.

February 7, 2007: 8:05 am: CalvinDudeBook Reviews

I just finished reading Cell by Stephen King. It was an okay novel, but certainly nowhere near King’s best. Basically, it’s a shorter version of The Stand set in modern day, only instead of a virus killing off everyone it’s a terrorist act using a cellular “pulse” to reprogram the minds of cell users.

As I said, the book is okay. Indeed, I probably would have enjoyed it more if I had not just re-read Bag of Bones (which is, in my opinion, the best literary work King has ever done).

I think one of the biggest problems with the book layout is the fact that for a King book, it’s very short. King’s at his best when he develops his characters, and this does take some amount of verbage (the way King writes). Cell felt like King was attempting to do a Dan Brown-esque rapid, short chapter feel (although Dan Brown is such a horrible writer that King’s attempt still puts Brown to shame, despite not being up to King’s normal standards). As a result, the novel felt very disjointed in places. Something would happen, you’d get to a chapter break, and then it picks up again several minutes (or in cases, hours) later. The only problem is that skipping the time required King to do a brief explanation of what happened in that time frame at the beginning of the next chapter segment.

In short, he fell into the classic trap of “telling” instead of “showing” the story; something one wouldn’t expect of King.

The over-all story concept was good, although not as compelling as it could have been. The story really wasn’t “scary” in the classic King sense–indeed, parts of it were fairly predictable. Sooooo….

Overall, I have to give it a B. If you’re a King-phile, then you’ll want to read it. If you’re introducing yourself to King, stick with Bag of Bones. And if you absolutely have to read one of his apocalyptical end-of-the-world stories, The Stand is better. In essense, while this novel is better than most stuff being published, it’s one of King’s worst.

Not as bad as It…but in the same cellar.

December 16, 2006: 2:31 pm: CalvinDudeBook Reviews, Personal, Science

Yesterday, I stopped by the store and noticed in the book aisle that Michael Crichton had a new book out called Next.  Since I enjoy Crichton’s works (although I do have to say he’s got a problem with endings) and since it was on sale for 30% off, I picked it up.  Then, I spent this morning reading the book.

Obviously, therefore, I would say that once you start the book you can’t put it down.  Actually, that’s not quite accurate.  Crichton, who writes in brief sections, begins the book with a few sub-chapter length sections that are hard to follow.  But by the time you get to about page 5 or 6, it’s off to the races and then you won’t be able to put it down.

This book, like most of Crichton’s, deals with science and ethics.  Specifically, Next deals with genetic engineering.  The novel is sprinkled with many real articles from scientific news stories about various aspects of genetics, as well as some fictional things that Crichton makes up.  Crichton’s blend of fact and fiction works so much better than Dan Brown’s lame attempts in The Da Vinci Code.

As usual, Crichton keeps you turning the pages to the very end.  The ending to this novel is actually one of his better endings, although it felt a little too rushed for me (but then, this could just be personal taste).  Having just read State of Fear last year, I would say that Next has a much better plot (in both cases, I agreed with his scientific points).  While this doesn’t have the impact that Jurassic Park did, it’s still a great novel.

Naturally, this book does leave you feeling slightly paranoid–but in a good way.  It is troubling to find out that over 30% of our genes have been patented.  Even more troubling is the way that Crichton is able to weave recent legal decisions into a possible present plot to demonstrate that the logic of the court’s decisions would actually enable genetic researchers to hunt down individuals who had specific genes so they could legally take cells from them.  It is troubling precisely because this is where the logic of our legal system will lead.

Unfortunately, Crichton does not really get into the true philosophical heart of the matter (although, to be fair to him, that was not his intention).  Ultimately, the stakes boil down to questions of naturalism.  Are people merely products of their genes?  Is there something “more” to being human than mere chemical reactions?  If not, then what difference does it make if we mine a human being for cells than if we mine a hillside for gold?

Crichton doesn’t deal with this particular aspect, instead leaving it in the realm of social justice, politics, and our legal system.  However, I do believe that the true answer to the problems Crichton addresses will not be found until we are prepared to look at the metaphysical issues.

For those who enjoy reading thrillers, I give this book a solid A (if the ending were just a tad bit better, it would have definitely garnered an A+).  For those who enjoy science, especially genetics, I give this book a solid A. On the literary scale, I would put him between a B+ and an A-.  So, altogether, I would definitely recommend the book.

December 6, 2006: 11:27 am: CalvinDudeBook Reviews, Philosophy, Science

I have finished reading through James F. Harris’s book, Against Relativism: A Philosophical Defense of Method.  This provides me with the opportunity to start a new blog category too: Book Reviews!

Sure, it’s older book (written in 1992); but since Harris spends most of the time advocating the position of Charles Sanders Peirce, a 19th century (and early 20th century) philosopher, I think it’s fair :-)

Harris does an admirable job of debunking relativism, with special emphasis on that espoused by Quine, Goodman, Kuhn, Winch, Gadamer, and Laudan (with a final chapter dedicated to feminist philosophers).  His critique is specifically focused on the level of scientific knowledge, and as such it quickly runs to epistemological issues.

Harris’s book is certainly looking at meta-scientific questions in order to justify scientific method, which Harris defines as being primarily induction.  As such, Harris does a wonderful job refuting relativism; yet he does not do a great job at defending his own meta-scientific ideas.  In fact, in the end many of the questions he asks the relativist philosophers could be equally asked of his own position.

For example, in my previous post, I quoted Harris critiquing Quine’s idea of community object sentences.  It concluded with these questions:

What is to count as a member of the language community?  What is to count as the “same” sensory stimulus?  How do we know that people agree or disagree?  At any given point, how are we to trust our records of our earlier interviews with other members of the community?

(Harris, James F. (1992).  Against Relativism: A Philosophical Defense of Method, LaSalle: Open Court (p. 139)

Immediately after this, Harris gives us Peirce’s view, which he agrees with, summarized in the following manner:

Science and the scientific method are essentially public just as Wittgenstein argued that language is essentially public.  One can no more play a completely private game with oneself or perform essentially private inferences than one can use a private language.  What would it be like to win or lose?  Or even to make a proper or improper move?  What guarantor would there be of correct inference? …Science and inference and method are as much in need of some public standard and criterion as is language, and the community provides that standard according to Peirce.

(ibid, 153)

At this point, given his attack on Quine’s “community” language earlier, one would expect Harris to answer those questions he asked of Quine: how does one determine what the community is?  How do we determine agreement within the community?  Etc.

Instead, Harris ignores these questions completely!  He instead argues:

[Critics] have ignored the fact that the community provides us with the only possible kind of standard of truth and reality and method.

(ibid, 154)

But why is the appeal to community valid for Harris but not for Quine?  Harris never explains this, which leaves the book sorely lacking.

The end result is that the book is great for exposing relativism, but poor for providing an alternative since the very alternative Harris proposes falls under his same attacks.  Ultimately, this is because Harris is an atheist and does not have an actual self-consistent foundation to start from.

I would still recommend the book, however, because A) it does accomplish debunking relativism and B) it does accomplish debunking secularist responses, if one applies Harris’s arguments against other positions to Harris’s position as well.