I get it--You have a grossly uninformed opinion about god!

(The following is an expanded version of my Facebook--comment--post from May 30, 2015).

Dear Salon.com,

Hire a fucking historian of religion (or, if you’ve already done so, prohibit any other members of your staff from writing on purely theological matters). Religion is an important topic, no doubt, and worthy of public discourse. However, there are already enough vacuous, uninformed and ill argued conversations in the Twitter-verse. Wouldn’t you like to contribute to a well reasoned conversation? Wouldn't you like to inform the public rather than spread have-baked theories about the grammar of god?

On Thursday of last week you reposted an article from January entitled, “I get it--you’re an atheist. You should still capitalize God”, by Richard Eskow. The article is grossly uninformed, and factually wrong grammatically, historically and theologically (or philosophically, if you prefer). The context of the conversation is misrepresented from the first. I am sure some atheists write god with a minuscule g to make a point, viz., god does not exist. This is indeed a silly practice inasmuch as orthography and grammar cannot replace a rational argument. Nevertheless, there are good reasons (again, grammatically, historically and theologically) to write god this way, and no good reasons (at least no good grammatical, historical or theological reasons) to write god with a majuscule g.

To begin with the grammatical: in English, the common practice is to capitalize proper nouns and not to capitalize common nouns (there are, of course, exceptions). A common noun is a noun that can be predicated univocally (that is, not analogously, not metaphorically) of many individuals. Take the word human; applied to Bill and Steve, the word means precisely the same thing. Note, human can be applied to a number of individuals analogously as well: a picture of a human is not a human, but its use in describing a picture of Bill is perfectly acceptable. The name Bill, on the other hand, is a proper noun. Its predication of Bill Gates and my goldfish Bill implies no commonality between the two (except that they are both named Bill). Notice further that speaking of my goldfish Bill does not imply that Bill exists (she does not). Hence, if the word god can be applied to more than one entity univocally (and by entity we must include ideas, concepts, mythical characters--naming and defining do not imply existence--pace Saint Anselm) then we are looking at a common noun. Yahweh is a god (perhaps the only god) and Zeus is a god, and in neither case is god used as a proper name or proper noun (as if God were Yahweh’s surname).

Now the historical: I am not aware of precisely when the practice of capitalizing god began, but I am aware of some of the oldest practices in the western tradition. Having earned my PhD in Medieval Studies, I have spent many gruelling hours deciphering, reading and transcribing medieval (and some ancient) manuscripts, mostly in Latin but also in Greek. In my studies I have only seen god (deus and theos) capitalized in two instances: first, when the manuscript is written entirely in majuscule; second, when the word begins a sentence--and even this circumstance is relatively rare since punctuation is a rather late invention. One might be tempted to think that capitalizing god becomes standardized with the popularization of the moveable-type printing press, and perhaps it does. Nevertheless, I myself own an original manuscript from Paris, 1706--lecture notes from a Jesuit course on the sacraments--wherein god is not capitalized (again, except when it follows a full stop). (I recognize that this is merely anecdotal evidence--one swallow does not a Summer make, and all that--but it is consistent with the tradition I’ve described). There is a tradition of capitalizing god, but it does not seem to be particularly old.

Finally, the theological: Historians, philosophers and theologians traditionally distinguish between a number of sub-branches or sub-disciplines of theology. The most important (in my mind) is the distinction between natural and sacred theology, where the latter treats of the god or gods that belong to particular religious cults or sects (in the classical sense), while the former treats of god or gods as a concept (what does it mean to be god or a god, similar to what it means to be human or a human). If god is reduced to God, the entire branch of natural theology is lost. This, I think, would be an unfortunate loss. Thomas Aquinas’ five ways (of proving the existence of god) belong not to the discipline of sacred or Christian theology (indeed, his arguments are borrowed from older traditions, including the very rich Islamic tradition), but to the tradition of natural theology. Plato’s discussions of god (and Aristotle’s following him) belong to natural theology as well. Regardless of one’s religious commitments and convictions, these conversations are of value in themselves. (There is much more to be said under “theological”, but I think a whole book would be necessary to present the whole argument.)

Had Eskow provided a history of the modern capitalization of god, we could have an interesting conversation about evolving conventions. I am not a staunch traditionalist--just because we’ve done it one way for such a long time does not mean that new traditions should not be embraced. Languages are living organisms that change, evolve, even die. But this is not the argument that was presented.

I am sure that there are some who explicitly use god instead of God to make a theological (or, if you prefer, a-theological) point. I’ve heard it argued before that e.e. cummings explicitly wrote his name entirely in minuscule to make a point about literature and its authorities. If this is true, I suspect he has an interesting point. But, in theology and philosophy at least, it is never good practice to let grammar and orthography to make your point for you.

Who hates corrupt cops more than good cops?

Maybe the families of dead kids killed by corrupt cops?

At least we're not killing gays like Iran is.

Certain pundits and politicians are repeating a particularly weak argument, suggesting either that Indiana's so-called "religious freedom" bill is justified because at least it is not as bad as Iran's treatment of homosexuals (as Steven Crowder implies several times in this video and Sen. Cotton repeated yesterday), or that opponents of Indiana's bill are hypocrites for supporting the nuclear negotiations with Iran, while refusing to do business in Indiana until the "religious freedom" bill is repealed.

Both versions of this argument are fraught with logical fallacies. The first is the logical equivalent of defending voter-suppression measures that disproportionately affect African Americans because at least we are not lynching them as we used to, or defending the wage-gap because at least we are not burning witches as we once did. Less bad is simply not the equivalent of good.

The second argument rests on a simple equivocation. Some are suggesting that, if opponents of the Indiana law refuse to do business with Indiana, and if they wish be be consistent, they should likewise object to Obama doing business with Iran (also here, and Ben Shapiro makes the same false equivalence here without explicitly repeating the equivocation). The problem here is an equivocation. That is to say, "doing business" in the first instance is literal (buying, selling and producing items to be bought and sold). In the second instance, "doing business" is a metaphorical turn of phrase. It intends sitting down at the negotiating table.

One is free to criticize negotiations with Iran (though I see no alternatives but continuing with sanctions, which do not seem to be having the desired effect, or going to war). But equating doing business in Indiana and "doing business" with Iran is the height of silliness (though perhaps I should not speak too soon of the height of silliness in this argument).

To be sure, it is hypocritical of Apple to do business in Iran while refusing to do business in Indiana, but you will notice that there is no equivocation here.

Zeno's Paradoxes and the Republican Problem of Principle

Brian Palmer over at Slate wrote an article this week explaining how Zeno's Paradox of Achilles and the Tortoise works. It got me thinking of how people usually react to the story when they first hear it--I've taught this paradox to college students in Montreal almost every semester since 2006 as a brief introduction to the Eleatic school of philosophy. I'll let Palmer summarize the story:

My students (most of them are not philosophy majors) generally react with a quizzical, unreflective, "That's stupid!" And it is stupid; that's Zeno's point, which is what I try to teach them. The paradox presents a fundamental contradiction between the mathematical principle at play (the infinite divisibility of a line) and reality (we all know that Homer's "swift runner" will win). But that is not all--Zeno's paradoxes are not just brain teasers. Rather, Zeno is trying to demonstrate that, when there is a contradiction between principle and reality, there is something wrong. It is not necessarily the case that the principle is wrong (a geometric line is, indeed, infinitely divisible), but, at the very least, it must be recognized that the principle does not apply in this particular case (actual distances are contiguous, not continuous, like geometric lines). Now, Zeno's specific point was the irrationality of all motion and change, as Palmer notes; more broadly speaking he is suggesting that the principles of mathematics do not apply to motion, and since mathematics are the foundation of rationality, motion and change are irrational. This principle does not apply here.

The current crop of Republican presidential front-runners all present themselves as men of principle, whether the issue is gay marriage, gun control, entitlements, what-have-you. But it is becoming clear that they don't understand the point Zeno made more than two millennia ago. Take the idea of cutting government assistance to the poor spelled out in the Ryan budget. The principle is that government assistance disincentivizes looking for work. The principle makes sense in the abstract--if you receive money without working, why would you bother to work. However, studies show that that is simply not how assistance plays out in reality. The so-called welfare trap is virtually non-existent.

There is nothing wrong with being a "man of principle". Indeed, principles are necessary to guide human action in an unpredictable world (some theories suggest human consciousness evolved precisely because we cannot predict every possible outcome of our behavior in an environment we do not control). Nevertheless, it is important to understand how principles arise. Principles of the sort at play in politics, economics, psychology and the like (as opposed to a priori principles, which play a role in purely theoretical disciplines) are derived from experience (through induction and statistical reasoning). What this means is that you cannot be a "man of principle" while ignoring experience--the experience of people on food stamps, or unemployment insurance, for example. And I don't mean experience in the sense of anecdote (though it never hurts to walk a mile in the shoes of another to understand his or her world). An economist or politician who ignores case studies, statistics, evidence provided by sociologists and bean counters, is not a "man of principle"--indeed, he can have no principle.

That is not what "balanced" means.

Billy Hallowell over at Glenn Beck's The Blaze posted an article today with the headline: Creationists Dealt Major Blow in Battle Over Evolutionary Content in Texas Biology Textbooks.  The article begins thusly:

The battle over evolution and creationism in public schools forges on. And in Texas, where some social conservatives have advocated for a more balanced approach to the study of life’s origins, it seems creationists may be in for major disappointment.

Notice that social conservatives are merely asking for 'balance'; how could that be unreasonable?  The answer is simple: the type of balance they'd like is not balance at all as it is appropriate to the discipline of biology.  Scientists and sciences are responsible for reviewing/regulating the methods appropriate to their respective fields.  In general, the scientific method includes the collection of empirical data, testing through observable experimentation and the formulation of hypotheses and predictions that can be so tested.  Creationism conforms to none of these methodological requirements.  Within evolutionary biology two scientists may disagree on the importance of alleles in replication or Dawkins' notion of the 'selfish gene'.  And these sorts of disputes can (and perhaps should--depending on the level of education) be included in biology textbooks.  That, however, is because both sides may be discussed within the confines of the methodology appropriate to the sciences.  Creationism should be taught in schools (even secular, public schools) in classes on religion, history, philosophy.  That represents balance.

Congressional and presidential exemptions from ACA (Obamacare)

The opponents of Obamacare continue to use the exemptions afforded to congress and the White House as evidence that even those who passed the law don't think it will work.  The problem (one of them, rather) is that this claim is simply false.  Nevertheless, opponents continue to use this canard as a talking point that their followers can use unquestioningly (such as Erick Erickson over at redstate.com).  The conversation is too important for us to allow it to be high-jacked by empty rhetoric (at best, lies as worst).

Good job, American political culture! You've broken the metaphor.

I thought this was just a fluke--one of the silly, hyperbolic things that Chris Matthews tends to say when he's worked up about something.  In discussing Ted Cruz, the current object of Matthews' well deserved disgust, Matthews compared Cruz to Joe MacCarthy and insisted that Cruz is a kind of political terrorist. What struck me was not the comparison to MacCarthy, nor the hyperbole (one should expect that from Matthews, and it is, to a certain degree, part of his shtick--like Colbert's pretended O'Reilly-ism). It was the reason for the comparison that was so bizarre--Matthews insisted that Cruz has the same sneering attitude and moral condescension, and that he even looks like MacCarthy. These may be true, but the comparison seems incredibly disingenuous. It would be like comparing someone to Hitler because he is short, or to Stalin because he has a big mustache. The comparison may not be false, but it is meaningless, since neither figure is considered the model of shortness or of mustachioedness.  This same phenomenon--the complete misuse of metaphor--occurred twice more this week.  First, during Cruz' own so-called filibuster, the Texan compared those who would support ACA to those who supported the Nazi's.  Yes, those who support ACA may be supporting a bad idea, and Nazism was a bad idea--but is that the full extent of our understanding and estimation of Nazism? Cruz' ideological compatriot, Mike Lee, made a similar claim, only Lee used the Revolutionary War rather than WWII.  So, instead of being Nazi sympathizers, those who would support ACA are British soldiers, and Lee and Cruz are American patriots.  I am not opposed to an informed and intelligent debate about Obamacare--it is too big, too important, and too costly not to debate the issue. But this is not a debate. At least they haven't broken logic (yet).