Atheists
Russell’s Tea Pot, Snuggies and Talking Frogs
**Guest post by Rob Powell.**
Bertrand Russell was a genius.
He had a bibliography as long as his mustache, was a pioneer in several fields and employed a sharp mind–and even sharper wit.
For all his achievements though he may be best remembered in internet culture today for his teapot analogy…
It goes a little something like this:
“Many orthodox people speak as though it were the business of sceptics to disprove received dogmas rather than of dogmatists to prove them. This is, of course, a mistake.
“If I were to suggest that between the Earth and Mars there is a china teapot revolving about the sun in an elliptical orbit, nobody would be able to disprove my assertion provided I were careful to add that the teapot is too small to be revealed even by our most powerful telescopes.
“But if I were to go on to say that, since my assertion cannot be disproved, it is intolerable presumption on the part of human reason to doubt it, I should rightly be thought to be talking nonsense. “
His point is well taken, that you can’t prove a negative–but nobody believes there is a vessel of 3 degree Kelvin Earl Gray floating around between the Earth and Mars.
Russell goes on to say that:
“If, however, the existence of such a teapot were affirmed in ancient books, taught as the sacred truth every Sunday, and instilled into the minds of children at school, hesitation to believe in its existence would become a mark of eccentricity and entitle the doubter to the attentions of the psychiatrist in an enlightened age or of the Inquisitor in an earlier time. “
Dr. Russell is implying that the only reason we don’t think it’s crazy to believe in God (who’s negation we can’t prove either) and not the teapot is that our parents, pastors and polite society have brainwashed us into thinking God is real.
In reality, Russell would say, God is no more real than a celestial teapot, unicorn, or the Flying Spaghetti Monster.
He’s just more socially acceptable.
So what’s the difference between God and this imaginary teapot–and where does this cute little analogy ultimately break down? Let’s take a look.
The Brittle Tea Pot Analogy
There are many hidden assumptions to this comparison but a primary one is that if something is real then science should be able to document it.
We’ve talked about scientism before because it has been a perennial favorite amongst the “brights” since the Enlightenment.
So Russell makes his teapot so far and distant that science can’t detect it–but that doesn’t make it God-like.
In theory we could go to the coordinates of the teapot and take it’s picture. Even if we didn’t know exactly where it was we could scour the range of coordinates and given enough time and effort we could find it or rule out its being in a certain area or at the very least based on its size and the volume it’s contained in say we are X% sure it’s not between Earth and Mars.
But since God is unembodied we could know the exact location of every quark in the universe and still not know where God is and He could still be real or at least authentic to the description given to Him in those ancient texts.
What Russell has done is placed on God the burden of being scientifically detectable in order to be real. But he offers no reason why God can’t exist without fulfilling this requirement?
Is God less God-like if He is uncaliperable?
Dr. Russell is also comparing something with no proof for its existence outside of his fanciful testimony meant to be a zinger to something who’s existence we do have good arguments for.
The ontological, teleological, cosmological, moral…these arguments have kept our greatest thinkers busy for over a thousand centuries.
The list of theists is long and illustrious and will make any honest skeptic pause.
This doesn’t make God real but it does mean that you can be a rational human being and believe in God. Not so much for his teapot.
The Tea Pot Is Under Strain
Let’s ask a question: When is lack of evidence evidence of lack?
Suppose you enter a cozy one room cabin and someone asks you if there are any Kodiak bears in the room. If you don’t see, hear, or smell any Kodiak bears you can assert with confidence that there are no Kodiak bears in the cabin.
But what if you enter the cabin and someone asks you if there are any gnats in the room? You can stare and listen but you will have a much shakier foundation to affirm that there are no gnats in the cabin.
In the first case we can go easily from “I don’t see any bears” to “there are no bears”. In the second case we can only go from “I don’t see any gnats” to “I don’t know if there are any gnats.”
The difference between the two is our epistemic situation, which in broad terms is the limits on our ability to know something through our primary sources of knowing (sense, memory and reason).
Using the terms we usually do around here we could say we’re atheistic about bears in the cabin but remain agnostics about the gnats.
Three Reasons for Our Evidence of God
What Russell is trying to do is stretch our atheism about the teapot into atheism about God. But is that a legitimate analogy? In order for that argument to work two criteria have to be met.
1. If God exists then we would expect there to be evidence for God.
2. If there is evidence for God then we would expect to have knowledge of this evidence.
We deny the bears in the cabin because we expect sufficient evidence to know if bears were in the cabin–but we lack it.
We are less sure about the gnats because even though we lack evidence for them we wouldn’t necessarily expect to have any evidence if they were there.
So with respect to God we would have to expect to have evidence of His existence but lack it to affirm atheism.
But should the skeptic expect to have this evidence? Here’s three reasons why they shouldn’t.
1. Sin
People are fallen and flawed and have willfully and purposefully closed their eyes toward God. We do this because we are proud, licentious, and wicked people in desperate need of a savior.
A crystal clear example of this is atheist Thomas Nagel saying, ” I want atheism to be true and am made uneasy by the fact that some of the most intelligent and well-informed people I know are religious believers… It isn’t just that I don’t believe in God and, naturally, hope that I’m right in my belief. It’s that I hope there is no God! I don’t want there to be a God; I don’t want a universe like that.”
Could a mindset like that cause him to knowingly or not close his eyes to evidence for God?
2. Demands for unreasonable types of evidence.
God could better prove His existence by painting a vibrant picture of Jesus in a different color Snuggie up in the clouds every Sunday from 11 to noon.
Or maybe he could cause frogs to say John 3:16 instead of “ribbit”.
Whatever the demand the implication is that God has a moral obligation to people to make Himself more clearly–even ridiculously!–evident because then more people would believe in God and avoid hell.
This leads us to the last reason.
3. Humble versus forced submission to God.
God doesn’t desire that people merely acknowledge His reality but that they have a redemptive, meaningful, ongoing relationship with Him. He wants to be every bit of our Lord and Father–not just our acknowledged reality.
Would cloudy Snuggie clad saviors and talking frogs lead more people to this type of relationship? Maybe, but I doubt it. We are still bent toward evil and incapable of doing good on our own.
It might just lead to more people like the demons who acknowledge Him but refuse to submit to his authority.
What separates God from Santa Claus, tooth fairies, teapots, and other imaginary beings is that where we can’t necessarily expect to know about evidence for God we would expect to know about evidence for the others.
But our epistemic situation is better.
Evidence of God Superior to Evidence for Tea Pots
We would expect to find factories at the North Pole, orphans getting quarters under their pillows and astronauts telling us about the teapot they left on the wing of Mariner IV.
Now I’ll admit the other option for the teapot could be that it just spontaneously popped into being from nothing in a solar orbit and while that would be extremely more likely than the entire universe doing the same trick (which atheists also believe) nobody really believes that could happen (which makes you wonder why it’s okay for the universe but not a measly teapot).
Which leads me to one final thought.
The crux of this argument is that there is no good reason to believe in the teapot other than widespread indoctrination. Russell is asserting that blind fideism puts faith and reason at odds–and reason must triumph.
You knew we would get here eventually but enter Jesus as the anti-teapot. The uniter of heart and mind.
God saw fit to come to earth in the form of Jesus and become very detectable so that we might know Him, repent, believe, and live in redeemed relationship with Him.
The historicity of the life of Christ allows us to have a reasonable faith. We can study His life, His words, and the lives of the people He interacted with.
In Russell’s analogy he’s given us no reason to believe him about the teapot. If the teapot’s creator had authored a now ancient text describing the out of sight teapot we could study it.
If we had reason to believe the author we’d have reason to believe in the teapot. The same must be said for Jesus. But in Jesus’ case, his life, death and resurrection exist not as dogma but as historical evidence. In other words, facts. Not so for the tea pot.
Who Is the Number One Atheist? [Does It Even Matter?]
Let’s pretend Time magazine published an issue called “The Number One Atheist of All Time.”
Who’s picture do you think would be on the cover?
Christoper Hitchens? Dan Barker? Richard Dawkins? Sam Harris?
Maybe Thomas Huxley, Charles Darwin or David Hume…
Or 9th century A. D. religious critic Ibn al-Rawandi…
Or even 5th century Athenian philosopher Socrates who was, for political reasons, accused of being ‘atheos’ (“refusing to acknowledge the gods recognized by the state”).
What Makes These Atheists Great?
They’ve all published and advocated substantial arguments against the existence of God (except perhaps Socrates who didn’t really publish anything).
But what other qualifications make them a good candidate for the number one atheist? What metrics would help you find that atheist?
IQ? Logic of arguments? Level of publicity? Strength of outside voice?
Maybe it’s who they’ve debated…and the number of debates they’ve won. Or the number of best-selling books they’ve written against the existence of God…or for the proof of evolution.
Perhaps we also measure the depth of their hatred or the intensity of their bitterness. Calculate the number of times they can say the f-word in a sentence. Or count the number of theists they’ve tortured and murdered.
No doubt a person who excelled in all these areas would make a fine atheist. Maybe even the best.
But are these good indicators to measure the worth of the all-time greatest atheist? To be honest, I don’t think it really matters. Or that I even really care.
What’s important is this: Once God sets his sights on someone–whether a staunch, heavy-weight atheist or a lightweight, equivocating agnostic–that person is toast.
Take Saul of Tarsus, for example.
My Vote for Number One Anti-Christ
Before his conversion, Saul was a model opponent of Christianity. He had the pedigree:
Circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee. Philippians 3:5
Furthermore, he was bred in the proper intellectual environment: the Mediterranean sea town Tarsus [modern day Turkey], a city well-known for it’s emphasis on knowledge.
He sustained a drive to advance up the Jerusalem temple leadership chain.
He even violently persecuted the followers of Jesus. In fact, the first time Saul makes an appearance in the Bible he is standing over the stoning of Stephen.
And Saul approved of his execution. And there arose on that day a great persecution against the church in Jerusalem, and they were all scattered throughout the regions of Judea and Samaria, except the apostles. Acts 8:1
So while Saul of Tarsus might not of been an atheist, he was by all standards a critic of Christianity. An anti-Christ if you will, who was systematically picking off the early church one-by-one.
And he looked unstoppable, which terrified first century Christians.
My Knees Would Buckle in the Face of This Anti-Christ
I have to confess: I would cower, too. And I have something else to confess: I sometimes waver when I think of contemporary opponents of Christianity.
People like Dawkins or Hitchens or Barker.
But there need be no alarm. Even the fiercest opponent of first century Christianity was no match for God:
And falling to the ground he heard a voice saying to him, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” And he said, “Who are you, Lord?” And he said, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.” Acts 9:4-5
After this menacing meeting with Jesus on the Damascus road the same Saul who breathed threats and murder eventually wrote [after his name was changed to Paul] this:
Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle, set apart for the gospel of God, which he promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy Scriptures, concerning his Son, who was descended from David according to the flesh and was declared to be the Son of God in power according to the Spirit of holiness by his resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ our Lord. Romans 1:1-4
Don’t Take Saul’s Conversion Lightly
This former Pharisee and Jew went from unconditional disgust for Gentiles [a disgust all Jews held] to a relentless drive to bring them the gospel…
A gospel he found prior to his conversion to be a ridiculous corruption of the messianic truth in the Old Testament canon…
A gospel that opposed everything he’d been taught to believe.
Yet, not only did he affirm the truth of this gospel…but he surrendered his life to this gospel and went on to spread it through the Mediterranean region, planting churches and growing believers.
What makes someone do that? Simple: Paul’s conversion is a testament to the irresistible call of God upon a believer’s life.
That’s Why They Call It Irresistible
The same kind of call former atheists like A. N. Wilson, Anthony Flew, Alice Cooper and ex-Korn guitarist Brian Welch experienced.
No matter the amount of intellectual backbone an atheist has…no amount of vicious threats or personal conviction or danger to a person’s life can resist the gracious sovereignty of God when he chooses to open the eyes and soften the heart and apply the work of Christ to an unbeliever’s soul.
In the end, the number one atheist of all time doesn’t stand a chance against the spirit of God–whether in this life or the next.
The Puddle: An Elegant but Not-Perfect Analogy
When it comes to criticizing the fine-tuning argument, Douglas Adam’s puddle analogy takes the cake.
Adams first unveiled this analogy at a 1998 lecture at Digital Biota.
Since then it’s become the darling of the scientific community.
Richard Dawkins quoted it during an eulogy for Adams.
P Z Meyers been known to toss it around.
And occassionally skeptics and atheists will trot it out here on this blog.
Case in point: During an interview with an atheist named Billy, I asked, “What do you think of the fine-tuning argument?”
Billy gave a thoughtful, but rather unforgettable answer to my question, especially since someone else chimed in with this piece of snarky brevity: “Nonsense. Google Douglas Adams ‘puddle argument.”
That caught my attention because he seemed to imply Adam’s “puddle argument” was a show stopper.
I have to admit: I was spellbound.
What Is the Puddle Analogy?
Unfortunately, it took me about seven months to actually get around to looking up this “puddle argument.”
But I finally did.
In fact, I not only read the analogy, but I also watched a Dawkin’s video, read Adam’s original transcript in which the analogy was embedded…and even skimmed an objection.
But I didn’t get it. I was at a loss to what he meant by “non-sense.” And how exactly was this a show stopper?
Adams analogy is emotionally compelling [which I'll explain in a minute], no doubt. But not sure what it proves. Or why it’s so convincing.
Are people putting more weight on it than it can hold? That was my hunch. So I decided to find out.
Asking More Questions about the Puddle Analogy
The following day I emailed the original poster and let him know I finally did what he told me to do but wasn’t sure what he was getting at. I asked him if he could clarify. Here’s his response:
I think it quite accurately exposes the foolishness of the fine-tuning argument without any appeal to emotion in the same way as Russell’s teapot or the FSM expose the flaws of other religious arguments.
Okay. But how? He replied:
By showing that fitting an environment well is no reason to think you were designed for it, it designed for you, or that both were designed with each other in mind. The analogy of the puddle shows that quite well since clearly holes aren’t intelligently designed for puddles, regardless of what a puddle might like to think.
Okay. That makes sense. It illustrates that well. But how does it prove anything? I didn’t think that was the job of a parable. In truth, it’s not.
The Purpose of a Parable
What is a parable? A parable is nothing more than a short tale illustrating a moral lesson or some truth.
Think Paley’s Watchmaker or Jesus’ Prodigal Son or Aesop’s Fables.
But the parable themselves are not truth. They illustrate some truth you already hold. In other words, parables and analogies are built on presuppositions…
You are assuming something is already true. All you are doing with a parable is helping somebody understand that presupposition.
Let me give you an example.
An Example of a Biblical Parable
In the Prodigal Son parable the loving response of the human father to the son who returns after a period of wasteful living is an allegory of the love of God for the repentant sinner.
Our presupposition is that God exists.
In Adams’ puddle analogy, our presupposition is that the universe isn’t designed for life.
In both cases, we need to prove our presuppositions. A parable doesn’t do that on it’s own. And that’s what I mean when I say a parable can’t carry the weight of an argument but is instead an emotionally satisfying story that demonstrates something we already believe.
Another Problem with Parables
Furthermore, just like Paley’s Watchmaker analogy, Adams’ puddle argument makes arbitrary designations.
Why a puddle in a hole? Why not a blue jay finding another bird’s nest? Or a billiard ball falling into a pool pocket?
The variations are infinite.
Bottom line, I sincerely don’t think Adam’s intended his analogy to be adopted as a proof.
He’s smarter than that.
He intended it to be a moral lesson. He said as much when he concluded his analogy: “I think this may be something we need to be on the watch out for.”
Indeed, the world gives us mixed messages. And we often see what we want to see. This applies for both theist and atheist.
So I couldn’t agree more with Adams’ warning. But what do you think? Did I miss something? I’d like to develop this thought further.
A. N. Wilson: An Atheist’s Slow Return to Religion
A. N. Wilson’s conversion might be old news–but it’s profoundly emblematic of ex-atheists.
That means it’s useful to us here at Fallen and Flawed.
Let me show you what I mean.
Brief History of Wilson’s Conversion to Atheism
In April of 2009, this 59-year-old English writer rediscovered his faith.
A faith he formerly denounced in his late 30s.
Legend has it that Christopher Hitchens–during dinner with Wilson–probed the writer:
“So – absolutely no God?”
“Nope,” I was able to say.
“No future life, nothing ‘out there’?”
“No,” I obediently replied.
And that creedless catechism sealed it. Wilson could officially declare: “At last! No more silly talk about the incarnation. Jesus’ resurrection. The afterlife.”
He was done with that load of baloney. That nonsense.
But there was just one thing. He couldn’t shake the sense that there was more to life than just material.
There’s More to Religion Than Argument
Skeptical to the core, Wilson even struggled with his non-belief. And when he did–just like a devout saint cracking open the New Testament–he brought down his copy of David Hume’s Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
But even the monarch of anti-supernaturalism and his literature couldn’t keep the doubts at bay.
What Wilson found was that after the novelty of his dramatic abandonment of faith wore off, he felt bleak and muddled more than ever. Religion wasn’t about argument alone. Religion embraced the whole person. Body and soul.
Further Doubts Rise
Then there’s language. Darwinian materialists suggest that language evolved. Yet, Wilson asks:
Where’s the evidence? How could it come about that human beings all agreed that particular grunts carried particular connotations? How could it have come about that groups of anthropoid apes developed the amazing morphological complexity of a single sentence, let alone the whole grammatical mystery which has engaged Chomsky and others in our lifetime and linguists for time out of mind?
At the bottom of Wilson’s critique is this: Materialism can not adequately explain our complex world. Christianity, on the other hand, as a working blueprint for life, can.
Tell this to an atheist and you’ll get a blank stare. Or a sweeping, scaled-down explanation that demonstrates one thing: They don’t understand what they’re talking about.
Bold assertion. But hear me out.
What Makes *Truly* Useful Parenting Advice
Long ago I didn’t have children. Yet, I freely gave parents child-rearing advice. Turns out, bad advice. The advice I shared pre-children amounted to a vigorous lack of understanding. A wholesale existential bankruptcy when it came to raising children.
Now that I do have children, I actually understand what it means to struggle with discipline or irregular infant sleep patterns.
What was the difference? I’ve looked a sobbing 5-year-old girl in the face and told her she couldn’t ride her bike. I’ve sat beside an infant soothing his restlessness well past midnight.
The Issue That Put a Tin Hat on Atheistic Ambitions
Interestingly enough, the issue at stake here was the same issue that ate at a unbelieving C. S. Lewis. That issue is nothing more than morality.
Wilson’s acute crisis with non-faith happened while he was writing a book about Nazi Germany. At some time while writing he realized “how utterly incoherent were Hitler’s neo-Darwinian ravings, and how potent was the opposition, much of it from Christians; paid for, not with clear intellectual victory, but in blood.”
Injustice simply didn’t make sense in a creedless society and ethics as a human construct was absurd.
Final [Somewhat Interesting] Thoughts
A. N. Wilson, at one time, was one of my favorite fiction writers. Books that topped my list were his biography on the apostle Paul and Jesus.
However, it was God’s Funeral that always most stuck out to me, a book that proclaimed the decline of faith in the western civilisation. In fact, Wilson went so far to say towards the end of the book that at the end of the 20th Century we were witnessing a robust decline in professions to the Christian faith.
Not surprising.
What was surprising to Wilson, on the other hand, was that in the face of ferocious persecution, compelling objections and disruption within the ranks, it persisted.
“It” being God. The very Being, in the end, Wilson couldn’t escape.
An Open Letter to Skeptics
Dear Skeptic,
I apologize for not writing sooner, but I wanted this to be a meaningful response. Not one kicked out in an hour.
See, you level–like many others before you–a serious accusation at Christians that’s worth a deliberate, thoughtful reply.
A reply that evaluates every inch of your accusation…addresses the perception behind this accusation…and then corrects it.
Why Am I Doing This?
I think it may help you understand us a little better, because we’re all here to understand each other, right?
Well, let’s see how I do.
First, the Accusation
What is the accusation I’m talking about? Nothing more than we Christians like to change the subject on you.
Now, I confess: We do. At least I do. And I’ll tell you why in a minute. But right now I want to explore something else…
I want to unpack your perception of why you believe we change the subject. Tell me if I get it right.
See, you accuse Christians of changing the subject and suggest the reason why is that we can’t answer your objections.
Perhaps this is true in some circumstances. But let me suggest another option:
We change subjects because it’s pointless.
At some point in our discussion–and I’ve seen these struggles between believers and skeptics long enough to know when it’s happening–we have to draw the line and say this person isn’t open to an earnest conversation.
He isn’t interested in my beliefs…he’s looking for a fight.
Or he’s looking to get his kicks from making Christians stumble. Or maybe he’s simply looking for a platform to display his arrangement of arguments and sophisticated intelligence. In the end, he’s just looking to snub and ridicule another person’s beliefs.
How Do I Know Your Motivation?
It’s easy to see. So often you’re asking the right questions. Questions like, “Is there eternal life? Did Jesus rise from the dead? What do I need to do to be saved?”
But unfortunately, you’re not looking to understand our position. You’re looking for a soft spot. And when you think you find that soft spot–you punch it…
You demand we give you a systematic explanation that satisfies you. We explain, you find another soft spot–and punch that one. Ad infinitum.
The sad thing is you’ve already answered those questions for yourself–in the negative, which is fine–but now you demand Christians intellectually gratify you.
Sorry. But we’re not obligated to do that.
This Is All We’re Obligated to Do
All we’re obligated to do is deliver a clear, graceful articulation of the gospel of Jesus Christ. To warn you of the consequences of rejecting that gospel. And to alert you to the danger of bowing down to men like Einstein, Aristotle or Plato.
Men who scientifically, logically and philosophically can walk circles around most Christians like me. But men who are morally inferior to the conquering Messiah.
The conquering Messiah who existed before time. Who walked on the earth. Who died. And who rose from the dead [Warning: PDF].
Indeed, I wish I had the stamina and intellectual resources to answer your every objection. But thank God, I’m not obligated to do that.
I do try to evaluate each discussion. Answer honest objections. Discern the the sincerity of each question: Are they seeking? Or are they looking for a fight?
If it’s the latter, then it’s pointless to argue. It’s pointless because you are dead to the truth. Blind to reason. And doomed to stumble in intellectual darkness.
And it’s only the gospel that will pry your eyes open.
If you accuse me of being insane, irrational or simply naive, so be it. I glory in that accusation…in that association with the risen Christ.
Why I Change Subjects on You
Furthermore, when I change the subject on you, it doesn’t mean I can’t answer the question. More than likely it just means the subject you want to fight over is peripheral. And I won’t squander emotional equity on peripheral arguments.
Yet the subject I want to shift the conversation to–the wrath of God appeased on the cross of Christ–is the real issue.
And the issue I’m willing to die for.
It’s like fighting over the color of the seats while the plane is going down in flames. Let’s land this wreckage first then squabble over what remains. [Forgive me. I'm terribly pragmatic.]
I Won’t Neglect This to Satisfy You
Listen: I do have a biblical obligation to give a defense of my faith. To explain why I believe what I believe. Especially to those who come in a posture of humility–whether fans or opponents of the faith.
But I’m not obligated to gratify antagonistic, self-righteous opponents of the Cross. Christ didn’t. And I won’t.
Neither am I required to appease your moral shock or intellectual grievance over my beliefs. This is simply part of the territory. The Bible plainly states:
Behold, I am laying in Zion a stone of stumbling, and a rock of offense [1]…but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles [2].
If I do try to fight…if I do try to answer your every objection…we will go around in circles. And I’ll neglect the most precious, joyful privilege I’ll ever have: Confessing Christ and explaining the law of the cross.
Understand, I’m horribly self-conscious about this letter. That I missed an angle. Or flubbed a point. But I hope at least I’ve edged our understanding of each other an inch in the right direction.
If not more.
I’m confident you’ll let me know if I did. Or didn’t. That being the nature of this type of communication. Looking forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Demian Farnworth
P.S. Please, share your thoughts. Brutal and all.
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