Creationist Mom Reaches Out to Evolution

Sometimes stereotypes have some truth to them.  Then there’s “D.”

D first got in touch with me a couple of months ago.  As she described herself, she is a Christian young-earth creationist homeschooling mom.  She had read about my blog on Ken Ham’s Answers in Genesis page.  I’ll include our brief correspondence to let D speak for herself:

From: D
Sent: Monday, January 21, 2013 8:36 PM
To: alaats@binghamton.edu
Subject: thank you

Hi Dr. Laats,
I have to say that it is very refreshing that you don’t think creationists like myself are complete idiots.  Really, I appreciate that. 
As a young earth creationist that homeschools, I wouldn’t give any Richard Dawkins books the time of day.  If someone is THAT hostile towards me, then I have no interest in what they have to say.  But I look forward to reading your blog when I have a chance because you try to understand where I am coming from, and you don’t think we are completely unable to do any science. 
Thank you,
“D”

I suggested that D might give Dawkins a shot.

From: D
Sent: Monday, January 22, 2013 9:48 PM
To: alaats@binghamton.edu
Subject: Re: thank you

Dear Dr. Laats,
I also agree that we should be looking at the other side, and I do plan to do that.  As a Christian homeschool Mom I am not trying to protect my sons from learning evolution.  The public school is not a place we feel comfortable putting our children because their thoughts and beliefs are not welcome in the classroom.  They would have to follow the advice my father in law got from his father before he joined the Navy, “keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth shut”.  Learning can not take place, in my opinion, in that kind of environment.
I am going to teach my kids about evolution, somehow.  There is a lot of material out there.  I would read Dawkins if I had to, but the amount of information out there that he has published alone is way too much to look at, sort through, and figure out what to teach.  For the sake of time, I’m looking for something comprehensive and succinct, and what a child in high school should know about the subject.  I am familiar with the NCSE website and that is what I plan to use as of now, though it will be guess work to know what all to cover.  
Thanks for your time,
D

I was surprised and happy to hear that D was using materials from the National Center for Science Education to teach her kids.  I think the folks at NCSE would be happy to hear it, too.  The NCSE is a leading voice for evolution education and a staunch opponent of creationism in public schools.  And too often, people like me tend to suggest a stark division between two sides: either Answers in Genesis OR the National Center for Science Education.  D has reminded me that smart people make all kinds of decisions about what to read and what to do with that material.  People choose public schools, private schools, or homeschools for all sorts of different reasons.  D’s work reminded me how quickly and easily we can oversimplify the many approaches people make to these snarled questions of evolution, religion, and education.

Yesterday, I heard back from D:

From: D
Sent: Monday, March 18, 2013 5:09 PM
To: alaats@binghamton.edu
Subject: Hi

Hi Dr Laats,
Well, I wanted to let you know that I checked out the [Dawkins] book The Greatest Show on Earth.  I never would have considered it except for your response.  Dawkins says on page 155 ” it would be so nice if those that oppose Evolution would take a tiny bit of trouble to learn the merest rudiments of what it is that they are opposing.”  I couldn’t believe that I totally agreed with Dawkins about something!  I am happy to listen, minus the hostility.  I don’t sense hostility in this book, which makes it readable.  This has made me realize that I can not get my head wrapped around what evolution IS.  He says we did not descend from monkeys, but we have a common ancestor.  I do understand that we would find no missing links because of the extreme gradual process, that is what I understand from the book, hopefully that is correct.  So I looked on Internet, and I guess I don’t understand phylogenies.  So we did not descend from monkey, but have a common ancestor, and then branched off to chimpanzees and humans etc.  So, it seems to me that we descended from something “monkey like”.  I guess I don’t understand how he can say that we did not evolve from monkeys, whether it was monkeys or monkey like, it seems similar.  Can you shed any light on this please?  As you can see, I am making an honest attempt to understand this so I don’t teach it incorrectly.  Thanks for the help,
D

First of all, my hat’s off to D for engaging with Richard Dawkins’ writings.  It is far too easy for all of us to read only those materials that confirm our own beliefs.  I am optimistic that there may be far more “Ds” out there than we might think: people who have strong beliefs, yet hope to find out as much as they can about the other side.  How many of us can say–like D–that we have taken the time to puzzle through books and websites of people with whom we totally disagree?

As for D’s question about phylogenies, I suggested she check out Dennis Venema’s series about evolution theory on recent pages of the BioLogos Forum.

Any other suggestions for someone like D?

 

 

“Awash with the intolerance of enthusiasm:” Michael Ruse Takes on the New Atheists

I don’t think I’d like to be Richard Dawkins in a dunk tank.  The provocative and prolific New Atheist, though, seems to relish his role as cultural provocateur.  Dawkins is well known for his biting and vicious jabs against faith.  One of his most famous books derides “The God Delusion.”  In 1996, Dawkins told one audience, “faith is one of the world’s great evils, comparable to the smallpox virus but harder to eradicate.”  Elsewhere, Dawkins opined, “I think there’s really something very evil about faith.”

A recent article by philosopher of science and anti-creationist Michael Ruse takes Dawkins to task for being so fanatically religious in his atheism.  Ruse argues that the virulent anti-religion of Dawkins and his followers awkwardly conceals “the enthusiasm of the true believer, and this encourages a set of unnerving attributes: intolerance, hero-worship, moral certainty and the self-righteous condemnation of unbelievers.”

Ruse himself claims to be more atheist than Dawkins, more Darwinian.  Ruse has fought tirelessly against creationism in schools and culture.  Yet he insists that Dawkins’ brand of in-your-face atheism misses the point.  Instead of condemning religion as fit only for the ignorant or insane, as Dawkins likes to do, Ruse insists, “I think my religious friends are mistaken, but I don’t think they are stupid or crazy or ill or evil simply because they are religious.”

Though Ruse claims this is not a personal issue, his feelings have clearly been hurt.  Dawkins and allies such as Jerry Coyne have made it personal.  As Ruse complains,

“I, and others of my ilk, am reviled in terms far harsher than those kept for the real opponents like the Creationists. We are labelled ‘accommodationists’ for our willingness to give religion a space not occupied by science.”    

Ruse makes a powerful argument that the “enthusiasm” of the New Atheists resembles nothing so much as religious sectarianism.  But he strangely conflates the New Atheism of Dawkins and his allies with a far broader Humanist movement.  There are certainly connections, but it does not make sense to use the two terms interchangeably.

And, as Ruse must certainly be aware, his diatribe will likely be most celebrated by the very creationists he and Dawkins both condemn.  The notion that humanism itself is a religion has long been a central strategic point of conservative religious activists.  For example, in the early 1980s, evangelical Protestant theologian Francis Schaeffer condemned “humanism” as a set of ideas that placed humanity at the center of all things, and made humans the “measure of all things.” Fundamentalist school activists Mel and Norma Gabler similarly denounced humanism as “a religion with an anti-biblical, anti-God bent.”  And as blockbuster fundamentalist author Tim LaHaye insisted in his 1983 book The Battle for the Public Schools:

“Don’t be deceived into thinking that humanism is merely a philosophy.  That is a masquerade humanists have utilized for over three centuries to deceive millions in the Western world.  And don’t be duped into thinking that because religious people believe in God, those who do not believe in God are not religious.”(pg. 75).

My hunch is that Ruse would not relish the intellectual company.  All the more since such arguments about the essential religiosity of humanism have long been at the core of conservative strategies to transform public schooling.  Most famously in the 1980s case Mozert v. Hawkins County, religious conservatives had initial strategic success portraying humanism as a religion.

If humanism counts as religion, the argument went, then public schools have no Constitutional business promoting it.  Textbooks with an evolutionary perspective, books that promote a notion of material origins of humanity, schoolbooks that teach the primary importance of human reason, such things smack of government instruction in the religion of humanism.

Strange bedfellows.

As Professor Ruse notes in his essay, his anti-creationist credentials are impeccable.  Yet just as sectarian disputes among religious folks have provided some of the most profound and influential arguments against religion in general, so the clash between these atheistic Darwinists will likely provide the very best reasons to include more creationist-friendly ideas in public schools.

 

 

A Hideous Truth: Flannery O’Connor on Fascism and Fundamental Belief

What does it mean to believe in something beyond reason?  How can we know the truth if we cannot trust our emotional responses?

A few days back The American Reader posted a remarkable letter from Flannery O’Connor to Betty Hester.  It seems the novelist in 1955 began a long correspondence with Hester.  Hester, a clerk in an Atlanta office, had written to O’Connor out of the blue.

Flannery O’Connor in 1955. Image source: The American Reader

The letter from September 6, 1955 reveals that Hester was no sycophantic fan.  She had apparently accused O’Connor of fascism.  As O’Connor defends in her letter,

“A higher paradox confounds emotion as well as reason and there are long periods in the lives of all of us, and of the saints, when the truth as revealed by faith is hideous, emotionally disturbing, downright repulsive. Witness the dark night of the soul in individual saints. Right now the whole world seems to be going through a dark night of the soul.”

For those of us outsiders trying to understand Fundamentalist America, these brief sentences can help.  The cultural divide seems deepest when it comes to the origins of truth.  For citizens of what we’re calling Fundamentalist America, truth can come from something beyond and above ourselves.  As O’Connor explained to Hester, “the thought of everyone lolling about in an emotionally satisfying faith is repugnant to me.”  In other words, for many religious conservatives–even those without O’Connor’s gift for expression–truth is not simply a result of our own feelings and cogitations.  Truth exists outside of us.  Our job is to submit to truth, not merely to quest for our own individual explanations.

This vision of truth sits hard with folks like me.  I was always taught to question, to doubt, to inquire skeptically into every notion.  Truth, the way I was raised, came from tearing down the accumulations of irrational tradition to get at the core of what is real.  You’ll know you’ve found the truth, the nostrum went, when you feel it deep down inside.

O’Connor offers a very different vision.  Her prescription for truth and truth-seeking help explain to us outsiders how someone can be intelligent and yet believe in things beyond reason.  How, for instance, can someone who knows the scientific evidence for evolution continue to believe in a young-earth creation?  For folks like me, such things seem outlandish.  And skeptics such as Richard Dawkins can only conclude that creationists must be “ignorant, stupid or insane (or wicked, but I’d rather not consider that).”

O’Connor’s letter gives us a different explanation.  The truth, for O’Connor, does not derive first from our reason.  It does not need to satisfy our feelings or our desires.  Rather, the truth might be “hideous,” but truth nonetheless.

Transubstantiation: Faith, Science, and the Public Square

“Catholics are crazy.”

Why don’t we hear people saying that?  Richard Dawkins accused anyone disbelieving evolution of being “ignorant, stupid or insane (or wicked, but I’d rather not consider that).” Does he accuse Catholics of the same thing?  Or why don’t we hear skeptics comparing the Catholic liturgy to a Flying Spaghetti Monster?

After all, one of the central features of Catholic liturgical tradition and theology is at least as radically anti-science as any kind of young-earth creationism.  But nobody seems to mind.

For purposes of full disclosure, I must note: I’m a big fan of Catholicism.  As the saying goes, ‘Some of my best friends . . .”  But even close friends must acknowledge the elephant at the altar, the rigid anti-science that lurks uncomfortably at the heart of the Catholic Eucharist.

We’re talking here about the Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation.  In Catholic doctrine, when a priest completes a special ceremony over bread and wine, the bread and wine are literally transformed into the body and blood of Christ.  Not symbolically, but substantially changed.  Of course, to all outward appearances, the bread and wine maintain their accidental attributes.  The senses, and even the most careful scientific detection, will see/hear/taste them only as bread or wine.  But in substance they have been transformed into the Real Presence, the living body and blood of the Christ.  I’m no theologian, and I invite correction on this subject, but as I understand the doctrine, the substance changes while the accidental outward properties do not.  Thus, for example, my body has two hands.  But the substance of my body does not change if I cut off one hand.  It is still my body, though the accidental properties change.  With the bread and wine, the substance transforms into the actual substance of blood and flesh.  But the accidental properties remain the same.  It will not taste like blood or flesh.  (If it did, I imagine this issue might be a little more controversial.)  It will continue to have all the outward appearances, down to the microscopic level, of bread and wine.  Yet it will not be.

This is a profoundly antiscientific notion at the heart of Catholic belief.  Instead of believing in the clear evidence of their senses, Catholics are supposed to believe that they are eating and drinking real flesh and real blood.  This notion is at least as antiscientific as more controversial doctrines such as young-earth creationism.  After all, creationists are not asked to disbelieve their own senses.  They are not required to contest the scientific measurements of things.  Instead, young-earth creationists are told that they have a superior science worked out, a true science that accords with the version of creation described in the Bible.  Catholics, on the other hand, officially believe that bread tastes like bread, smells like bread, looks like bread, has all the chemical properties of bread, and yet is not bread.  That must be difficult to swallow, pardon the pun.  Yet we don’t hear any complaints against it or attacks upon it from skeptics and anti-fundamentalists.  Why not?

There are two obvious reasons.  First, this doctrine doesn’t impinge on the public sphere the way creationism does.  After all, if it somehow mattered what public schools taught about the nature of bread, wine, and liturgical practice, then we could expect the notion of transubstantiation to become more controversial.  When the nature of the substance of the Eucharist was part of a public debate, as in the time of Martin Luther, then the doctrine of transubstantiation was indeed intensely controversial.  These days, in subjects such as contraception and abortion, where Catholic doctrine impacts public policy, we do hear a great deal about the nature of Catholic belief.  Since the doctrine of transubstantiation remains important only within the religion itself, skeptics may feel no need to challenge its inherent antiscientific nature.  After all, much religious belief is antiscientific.

Second, even many Catholics don’t embrace this doctrine enthusiastically or aggressively.  Catholics are not forced to defend the anti-science of transubstantiation the way creationists are forced to defend their Bible-based anti-science.  Catholics are assumed to agree with this foundational theological premise, but they are not put in a position to defend it publicly.  Allow me to give one example.  At the Catholic Church I attend, during harsh flu seasons parishioners are asked not to drink from the communal chalice if they have symptoms.  That makes great scientific sense, but little liturgical sense.  If the wine had actually been transformed into the substance of Christ’s blood, it doesn’t seem right that the H1N1 virus could attach itself.  Perhaps a Catholic apologist would reply that such things as viruses are only part of the “accidental” features of the wine.  The point here, though, is that to many Catholic parishioners, at least at my church, the transubstantiated blood is still regarded as very similar to wine.

So are Catholics crazy?  Do they cling to anti-scientific notions?  Does the core belief of Catholicism mean that ideas taken on nothing but faith must trump all evidence of the senses?  And if so, why don’t anti-fundamentalists seem to mind?

 

Required Reading: Shields and the Civility of the New Right

Another reason to spend time at Mere Orthodoxy: Matthew Lee Anderson today shares his interview with Jon Shields.  Shields is the author of The Democratic Virtues of the Christian Right.  Even if you don’t have time to spend with the whole book, it is worth taking a few minutes to read this interview. 

Shields elaborates on the thesis of his book, viz., that the incivility of the Christian Right has been overplayed by journalists looking for a good story.  Using interviews and a participant-observer method, Shields found that such headline-grabbing fury did not fairly represent the movement.  As Shields notes in this interview,

If one looks at Christian radio personalities or at direct mailings or at fringe organizations, belligerency is quite common. The media picks up on these latter examples partly because they are somewhat more visible, partly because they make for more interesting stories, and partly because of the sociology of the newsroom itself. So the media has identified real incivility in the Christian Right.

Of course, such distortion takes place all over the political and theological spectrum.  In my research into the history of conservative educational activism, I find that conservative writers and pundits also relied on the tactic of the hyperbolic example.  For example, the early Soviet-friendly statements of John Dewey or George Counts are often used by conservatives to demonstrate that all of progressive education is nothing but a communist plot. 

It seems to return us to the central dilemma of America’s ballyhooed culture wars.  Even though most people–even people politically, culturally, and theologically committed on issues such as abortion or gay rights–prefer to act in civil, “small-d” democratic ways, the fevered punditry of voices on each side dominate the headlines.  One religion-bashing quip by Richard Dawkins, or one minority-bashing pronouncement by Glenn Beck, does more to define the two sides than thousands of people working quietly and politely to promote their vision of America.

 

Required Reading: Matthew Lee Anderson on Non-Culture War Conservatism

“Why do the angry people get all the attention?” 

That was one of those audience questions that has stuck with me.  It was at a talk about the history of American creationism I gave a while ago to an audience of (mostly) committed students of biological evolution.  I had included one of my go-to bits from the aggressive atheist Richard Dawkins.  I often explain my purpose in studying conservative religion in American public life as a quest to deflate Dawkins’ 1986 warning: Anyone who does not believe in evolution, Dawkins insisted, must be “ignorant, stupid or insane (or wicked, but I’d rather not consider that).”  Though I don’t believe in creationism, I think many people who are not ignorant, stupid, or insane do believe it.  Our talk turned after that to the prominence of mean-spirited, angry culture warriors.  Why do such voices get all the attention, when most of us, whatever our beliefs, would prefer a respectful dialogue?  

Yesterday at Mere Orthodoxy, Matthew Lee Anderson posted another in his series on what it would take for conservative religious Americans to create a post-culture war persona.    

Anderson suggests “four moves” that would move the public engagement of conservative religious Americans in healthier directions:

1) Recover a robust doctrine of creation that is isn’t afraid to be doctrinal.

2) Emphasize the moral imagination and attempt to construct arguments that both appeal to and buttress it.

3) Remember that the church does not simply engage the culture, including politics, but is a culture and so has her own political order.

4) Reframe American exceptionalism around America’s responsibilities rather rather than its virtues. 

As Anderson admits, some of these moves might just be restatements of the goals of the last two generations of culturally engaged evangelicalism.  Carl Henry’s call in 1947 for a “progressive Fundamentalism with a social message” comes to mind.  But for those of us from the outside, those of us trying to understand conservative religion in American public life in order to take away some of the power of all the “angry voices,” understanding Anderson’s moves (and his supporting reading lists) might be a good place to start.

The Bible as America’s Book: Americans Love the Bible

I don’t care much about the Bible.  I admit it.  In my work as a historian of American conservatism and conservative Christianity, I’ve tried a couple of times to study the Bible systematically.  After all, the Bible and its phraseology play a large role in the culture of the people I’m studying.  At the very least, I need to cultivate a familiarity with it so that I can catch the references that fly around so fast and furious in Fundamentalist America.  So I’ve tried to read the Bible.  Turns out I can read it if I have to, but I admit I’ve never felt any of the spiritual power that many Christians have described.

I can take it one step further.  I don’t think the Bible can help me figure out my problems.  I don’t think it has much to say about my personal life.  I feel even more strongly that the Bible doesn’t have any answers for our common cultural or political life.  Intellectually, I agree with skeptics such as Richard Dawkins and others who have dismissed the Bible as a collection of ancient myths, trapped in the provincial traditions of one group of Middle Eastern nomads.

For most of my life, I assumed such attitudes were normal.  I thought that most Americans agreed that the Bible must not be used as the simple truth about life and eternity, but rather as a collection of moral tales from one religious tradition.

I felt confirmed that my attitudes matched those of lots of Americans by seeing hilarious religion jokes by folks like George Carlin (wait for it) and the makers of Family Guy.

I thought such irreverent attitudes about the Bible were the norm.  They still seem to be the norm among my circle of professional and personal acquaintance.  But they are not.  If we want to understand life in America, and especially if we hope to understand Fundamentalist America, we need to recognize the significant power of the Bible in the lives of most Americans.  If we can believe Gallup poll data, we must acknowledge the continuing deep reverence for the Bible among most Americans.  For instance, one 2000 poll asked respondents, “Do you believe the Bible answers all or most of the basic questions of life, or not?” 65% of respondents answered yes.  65%!  That is a significant majority.

And consider these responses to an often-repeated Gallup question:

  The Bible is the actual word of God and is to be taken   literally word for word The Bible is the inspired word of God but is not to be   interpreted literally The Bible is a collection of myths and fables.
1976 38 45 13
1980 40 45 9
1991 32 49 9
1993 35 48 14
1998 33 47 17

Looking at these results, especially if we combine the first two Bible-friendly categories, we see truly impressive majorities of American respondents view the Bible as the word of God.  Even when we only consider those who think of it as the literal truth, the numbers are still fairly large—certainly large enough to attract the attention of political strategists and advertisers.

Just as with similar questions about evolution, we must acknowledge that the number of Americans who don’t embrace the Bible is remarkably small.  We need to avoid the arrogance and self-importance of many Bible skeptics.  Instead of asking, Why do so many Americans seem to believe in the Bible or creationism?, we really should be asking, How have such small minorities of evolutionists and Bible skeptics been able to achieve such influence in American culture?

I know many ILYBYGTH readers will not be surprised by these statistics.  Anyone who knows much about life in Fundamentalist America recognizes the large majorities Fundamentalism can claim.  But many folks outside of Fundamentalist America’s boundaries have very little idea how isolated they are.  Like me, many people only interact with folks who tend to believe in evolution, with people who do not look to the Bible as their source of answers to life’s problems.  If we hope to understand Fundamentalist America, we need to acknowledge the continuing power of the Bible among such commanding majorities of Americans of every background.

 

Required Reading: Plantinga, Where the Conflict Really Lies

Required Reading: Alvin Plantinga, Where the Conflict Really Lies: Science, Religion, and Naturalism (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011).

For a quick preview of the book, see John Wilson’s interview with Plantinga in Christianity Today.

In this interview, Plantinga’s quiet insistence on the compatibility of Biblical Christianity with human evolution raises once more the old question: Do the LOUDEST people insist on the fact that evolution and biblical religion are incompatible, while the SMARTEST people find  lots of room for the two to agree?

As Plantinga puts it:

There’s no real conflict, [between religion and evolution] even though conflict has been alleged by people on the Right as well as on the Left. Richard Dawkins, Daniel Dennett, and a host of others claim that there is outright conflict between evolutionary theory and belief in such a person as God, who has created and designed the living world. At the other end, there are Christian thinkers, too—like Phillip Johnson—who think there is irreconcilable conflict between the scientific theory of evolution and Christian belief.

There’s no doubt in my mind that Richard Dawkins and Phillip Johnson are both smart people and terrific polemicists.  But in his other works, Plantinga’s brand of careful consideration and his thorough, quiet, deliberative method have resonated with me in a much more profound way. When in doubt, it seems to be a fairly reliable guide that the person with the greatest certainty is usually not the most careful, most dispassionate seeker of truth.

As Plantinga says in this interview, “to argue for it [the relationship between evolution and naturalism] properly is quite complicated; it’s hard to do in a brief compass.”  So maybe the best thing for all of us to do is to quit talking so much about it, and start with a more careful reading of books like Plantinga’s new one.