Skip to main content

Introduction to Ockham's Beard

Toward the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th century, some authors began talking about a conflict between science and religion.  Science, they proposed, offers explanations that can be proven true through measurement and observation--or at least can be proven false.  Religion, on the other hand, offers no method for testing the truth or falsity of its claims, but instead begins and ends with wishful thinking, as in the wish to live forever, to be loved unconditionally, or the wish to return to infantile bliss.  If these critics do not associate religion with childish wishful thinking, then they associate it with fear.  That is, the fear of a judge from whom you cannot escape and a punishment that never ceases.  Religion is anchored in these irrational hopes and fears, say these critics, while science is anchored in  tests through which we

I am sure that there are some religious people whose lives and words might make these criticisms seem particularly apt.  But I also see that there is much that is beautiful in religious experience to which the modern critic is blind.  The aim of this book is to show both this beauty, to explore whether it offers any evidence of God's presence in our world, and to give an account of the blindness that besets modern atheists. This blindness, I will argue, is owing to a misunderstanding of of the scientific method.  This book will therefore clarify the scientific method in such a way that casts light upon its connection to religious experience.  I will show that scientific inquiry is made possible by something within humanity that impels us to seek the divine.  To deny the religious aspect of our humanity, therefore, is actually to undermine the scientific method.

(need to discuss the title of the book and define scientific method)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Dembski's "specified compexity" semiotics and teleology (both ad intra and ad extra)

Integral to Dembski's idea of specified complexity (SC) is the notion that something extrinsic to evolution is the source of the specification in how it develops. He compares SC to the message sent by space aliens in the movie "Contact." In that movie, earthbound scientists determine that radio waves originating in from somewhere in our galaxy are actually a signal being sent by space aliens. The scientists determine that these waves are a signal is the fact that they indicate prime numbers in a way that a random occurrence would not. What is interesting to me is the fact that Dembski relies upon an analogy with a sign rather than a machine. Like a machine, signs are produced by an intelligent being for the sake of something beyond themselves. Machines, if you will, have a meaning. Signs, if you will, produce knowledge. But the meaning/knowledge is in both cases something other than the machine/sign itself. Both signs and machines are purposeful or teleological

continuing the discussion with Tim in a new post

Hi Tim, I am posting my reply here, because the great blogmeister won't let me put it all in a comment. Me thinks I get your point: is it that we can name and chimps can't, so therefore we are of greater value than chimps? Naming is something above and beyond what a chimp can do, right? In other words, you are illustrating the point I am making (if I catch your drift). My argument is only a sketch, but I think adding the ability to name names, as it were, is still not enough to make the argument seem cogent. For one can still ask why we prefer being able to name over other skills had by animals but not by humans. The objector would demand a more convincing reason. The answer I have in mind is, to put it briefly, that there is something infinite about human beings in comparison with the subhuman. That "something" has to do with our ability to think of the meaning of the cosmos. Whereas one might say"He's got the whole world in His han

particular/universal event/rule

While listening to a recorded lecture on Quine's Two Dogmas of Empiricism, it occurred to me that every rule is in a way, a fact about the world. Think about baseball: from the p.o.v. of an individual player, a baseball rule is not a thing but a guide for acting and interpreting the actions of others.  But this rule, like the action it guides, is part of a concrete individual --i.e., part of an institution that has come into existence at a particular place and time, has endured and  may eventually go out of existence.  The baseball rule, as a feature of that individual, is likewise individual.  The term "baseball rule," on the one hand, links us to a unique cultural event; it can, on the other hand, name a certain type of being.  In this way, it transgresses the boundary between proper and common noun. If there were no such overlap, then we might be tempted to divide our ontology between a bunch of facts "out there" and a bunch of common nouns "in here.&qu