The Flawed Decision-making Ability of Human Beings

“There is a way that people think is right, but it leads only to death.” Proverbs 14:2 (ERV)

          We have a higher opinion of our ability to make moral decisions than we should.  Actually, this relative “delusion” often extends to our ability to make logical decisions in general.  Elsewhere <here> I talked about the fact that even when we know the right thing to do, we don’t always do it.  But there is an even deeper issue that we all have, which is succinctly summarized in the Proverb above:  sometimes we think something is right - convinced of it even – but we are wrong. 

This is hard for us to accept.  We usually have a pretty good idea when other people are wrong.  We’d probably agree with the general concept that human beings are not perfect decision-makers on any topic, including moral decisions.  But when it comes to admitting that this principle applies to us – to me – well, then we get pretty defensive.  It’s easy for us to see the shortcomings in others – but when it comes to taking care of our own shortcomings, we become pretty blind.

          The point I want to make in this entry is to establish this principle:  we take a big risk when we decide to establish our own reason and feelings as the basis for determining right and wrong.  The risk is that we can be convinced that something is right, but “it leads only to death.”  In general we know the fundamentals of logic and reason.  We can think through situations and make good and correct decisions.  We have that ability.  But sometimes we just fail to make use of our innate abilities.  I’d like to make this point with three different illustrations of common human behavior.

         

          Example #1:  Our emotions and sensitivities can override our reason.  Want an obvious example of that?  Tailgating.  Driving 60 miles an hour and being 15 feet behind the car in front of you.  I’ve done quite a bit of driving in my day and I’ve driven from East coast to West coast.  And what I have observed is that at least 50% of you are chronic tailgaters.  Why is that?  There is not a shred of logic behind tailgating.  When it comes to weighing risk and benefit, it is all risk with zero benefit.  Do I really need to explain it?  But, for a variety of reasons, most people just can’t help themselves.  And it’s so easy to stop tailgating – just back off – but yet we still do it.  With tailgating, we are needlessly risking our own lives and the lives of those around us.  And I won’t even mention things like texting and driving or drunk driving.  If we can’t be trusted to use our reason properly in something so common and so simple, how can we really trust ourselves in bigger, more complex, decisions?

Example 2:  Our perspective bias – we see what we want to see.  Plenty of examples of this can be found in the world of sports.  In particular, I’m talking about fans of sports teams. People root for the sports teams of their choice and their views are totally influenced by their “fandom.”  A group of people see the same play but the fans on one side say that there was a foul and the fans on the other side say there was no foul.  Isn’t it clear that some people’s view of what did or didn’t happen is clouded by their biases as a fan?

          I’m a big Cleveland Indians fan.  As a result, I see things related to my team in a favorable light.  I still think that the Atlanta Braves pitching staff got too generous of a strike zone in the ’95 World Series.  If you’re a Braves fan, I’m sure you saw it differently (and by now you surely don’t care).  This type of disagreement occurs daily in sports.  Fans on one side say “that was obviously the worst call ever” and fans on the other side say “there is no question that was the right call.”  Well, they can’t all be right – but they are all convinced that they are right.  Totally convinced.  This just illustrates how we are so easily biased by our own situation, our own environment, our own family and friends.  This is one big reason why we can’t always trust ourselves as the final decision-maker about right and wrong.  We will often be too lenient on our friends and too harsh on our enemies (or, sometimes, vice versa!).  And, worst of all, we will almost always be too lenient on ourselves.

Example #3: We can say we believe something when we don’t really believe it.  It’s just another fact of human nature:  we can all be hypocrites sometimes.  I think it might be one of those unique qualities of human beings.  I think we all have things that, if someone asked us, we would say we believe with great confidence, yet our actions would prove otherwise.   Case in point:  “everything is relative.”  I don’t mean in “relative” as in physics, but relative in moral issues.  I know plenty of people that would deny that there are any moral absolutes.  They would argue the issue for hours – vehemently.  Yet, at the same time, they would also stand strongly on moral statements such as “it’s wrong to judge others” or “you can’t tell me what is wrong for me.”  These are absolute truths that they, in actual practice, live by.  They say “there are no absolutes”, but they live as if there are.

Of course, the moral relativists don’t have the corner on hypocrisy.  Those who stand staunchly on various moral absolutes can be the biggest hypocrites of all.  Just observe their actions!  Do they always do what they say?  It happens all the time that those who speak out against some great “sin” or other are then found to violate that very issue. 

Be honest people:  we’re all big hypocrites!

          We have to make decisions about what is right and wrong on a daily basis.  We are faced with choices – we can’t avoid that – and we have to respond, even if the way we respond is to do nothing.  All I want to conclude in this entry is that if we rely on our own great impeccable innate ability to determine what is right and wrong…well, we’re going to make some mistakes.  No – probably a lot of mistakes.  We’re just not as good at this as we think we are.

Lunches with Lucas – Session IV

<This is part of an ongoing conversation.  To go to the first conversation, click here>

I was a bit intrigued by my last conversation with Lucas, and I was kind of interested to know where he was going with the points he was making.  Interested, I would say, in the same way you are interested to see an accident up ahead.  Curious is maybe a better word.  And I knew Lucas well enough that I thought I could just get straight to the point and he wouldn’t be put off by that.

I sat down across from Lucas for lunch.  “Lucas, it really seems to me that you’ve been trying to drive to some big point…so just get to it – what is the point to this discussion about miracles and natural events and so on?”

“OK – fine.  You asked,” Lucas smiled.  “I want you to tell God – no – tell Jesus - to do a miracle in your life, I want you to see the miracle, and, as a result, I want you to completely and fully commit yourself to following Jesus for the rest of your life”, he said, fairly matter-of-factly.

Maybe I should have let him keep building up slowly!  “You can’t be serious,” I said, searching his expression.

“Well…maybe I shouldn’t have gone so far,” he said, backtracking a bit.  “Really, all I’m asking is that you change your worldview from “there is no such thing as miracles” to “miracles are extremely unlikely but can’t be ruled out.”

I wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily.  “Wait a minute - what about this “tell God what to do” thing you just said?”

Now he was in a full retreat.  “OK, look, I overstated my point to try to get you to think about what I have been challenging you with.  Obviously you can’t tell God what to do.”

“Actually, Lucas, you can tell God what to do,” I said, feeling a bit proud that I could make a point about spiritual things.  “People tell God what to do all the time.  The problem is that there is no God to hear anyone, so that is why nothing happens.”  I figured if Lucas could be blunt, so could I.

“OK – I’m sorry I brought it up.  And not to belabor the point, but it’s not true that ‘nothing happens’ when you talk to God,” Lucas said, belaboring the point.  “Lots of people have asked God to do something and he has done it.”

“Yah, well, lots of people have asked God to do something and he hasn’t done it.  That proves nothing,” I said.

“That’s a valid point.  But the problem is that no matter what God does, you’ve set up a situation where you can always rule out the possibility that God exists.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Let me put it this way:  can you design an experiment that you could do that would cause you to believe in God…or, again, more specifically, Jesus?”

“How can you do an experiment with God – you just said you can’t tell God what to do,” I asked.

“My point is that if such an experiment were designed, it would certainly have to involve a miracle, and you don’t accept that there can be any such a thing as a miracle.  Therefore, you reject God and no amount of evidence would ever change your mind,” Lucas challenged.

“Evidence?  There is no evidence,” I challenged back.

“What I mean is that you are unwilling to put your lack of belief in God to a test because you have eliminated all possible ways God could reveal himself to you a priori.”

“Unwilling?  I didn’t say I was unwilling to see evidence – I just don’t see any,” I said.

“Sorry – wrong word choice.  It’s more that you prevent God from revealing himself to you because you have eliminated all possible ways God could do that.”

“Whatever.  I don’t see what you’re getting at.  I feel like we’re going in circles.”  Hadn’t he said this before?  Besides, it didn’t make any sense to me that any human being could “prevent” his so-called God from doing anything.  But I didn’t want to bring that up and prolong the conversation.

“So – what about my challenge?” Lucas said, ignoring my comment.  “Consider just changing your worldview from “there is no such thing as a miracle” to “miracles are extremely unlikely but can’t be ruled out.  Then people like me can no longer say that you’ve ruled God out without ever giving him a chance.”

On the face of it, it seemed like a small change but I wanted to stall him.  I wasn’t ready to change anything.  Why should I change?  I was winning the argument.  “I hate the word ‘worldview’” I said, stalling.  But I really did hate that word.

“You’re just stalling,” he said, recognizing what I was doing.  “So, then, how about changing your ‘philosophy of life’ to include the remote possibility of a miracle, or, more specifically, intentional divine intervention?” he asked.

“Well, it would have to be a really really really remote possibility,” I countered.

“Of course.  Almost by definition, a miracle has to be very rare – extremely rare – otherwise it kind of becomes just a natural event,” Lucas agreed.

I had to admit that there was some logic in what he was asking me to do.  “OK.  I will take it under consideration,” I said.

“No problem,” Lucas smiled, “let me make the decision harder for you.”

“Oh great,” I said, a bit surprised.

“You recall our conversation about the evidence for the resurrection of Jesus Christ?” Lucas asked.

“Not much.  To be honest, it’s not something I’ve committed to memory.  I mean, how can you present ‘evidence’ for something that doesn’t exist?  I thought we agreed to put that aside.” 

“Hah!  You do remember – or at least you remember that we agreed not to talk about it again.  But you didn’t listen to my arguments because you’d already decided that a resurrection can’t happen – it never happens.

“Sounds about right,” I said.  “Case closed,” I added, hoping he would move on.

“Well…if you change your philosophy of life to allow for the very remote possibility of miracles, then you’re going to have to consider those arguments.  Previously you didn’t care what I said about it – because you had already eliminated the possibility of any miracle ever happening – particularly someone rising from the dead.  But now, even if the possibility if very very remote, you can’t just reject the concept off-hand like you did before.”

“Well, I haven’t changed my mind,” I said, almost adding “yet” but decided not to.  “Is this whole discussion part of some grand plan of yours to bring up that whole conversation about the evidence for the resurrection again?  Count me out.”

“No, no, I promised I wouldn’t bring that up again, so I won’t,” Lucas said, then paused.  “Unless you ask,” he added, smiling.

“Well, that’s not happening.  So let’s move on.  It’s time to eat.”

“Yes, we can move on.  But I still want you to consider allowing for the remote possibility of miracles.”

“Do you ever give up?”  I was a bit tired of this, but couldn’t think of a good reason not to crack.  “If I agree, will you let me eat?”

“If you agree, I’ll pay for lunch!  But I’m serious.  This is a big decision…I know it’s not as simple as it sounds.”  Lucas said, backing off a bit.

“You’re right.  I’ll take it under consideration,” I said.  But I had no intention of considering it. 

I picked up my corned beef sandwich and changed the subject. 

[...on to Session V...]

Lunches with Lucas – Session III

 <Link to Session I>

         As I stepped into the restaurant, I saw that Lucas was already at our accustomed table.  That was pretty unusual, as usually I was the one who arrived first.  As I approached the table, I could see that he appeared to be talking to himself.

          “Hey Lucas,” I said, “who are you talking to?”

          “Oh – hi – I was just talking to God here,” he said, motioning to the empty chair.

          I thought about leaving, just to teach him a lesson.  “It’s an empty chair…”

          “Why can’t God be invisible?” Lucas asked.

          “That’s so childish.  God could be a chair, too, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

          “You’re right, that is kind of childish on my part.  But last time you talked about God appearing to you in this chair and said that would be enough to believe.  Isn’t that a little childish also – or at least a little selfish?”  Lucas asked.

          “What do you mean ‘selfish’?” I asked, taking my seat.

          “Well, it’s seems like you’ve only answered the question as if you were the only person that God needed to worry about,” Lucas said, drawing out the word ‘only’.  “If God’s going to do a miracle so that you will believe, doesn’t he have to do the same miracle for everyone else as well?  Otherwise, it’s just not fair and I know that you’re very worried about God being fair.”

          “Sure – what’s the problem with that?  God can appear in chairs to everyone, and then everyone would believe in him and I guess that would make him happy and you happy,” I retorted.

          “But that’s way too glib.  You aren’t really seriously thinking that through.  That whole concept just doesn’t work.  You think it is childish that I would say that God is in that chair but he’s just invisible, and you’re right – it’s childish.  But so is saying that if God appeared in chairs to everyone, it would make everyone believe in him,” Lucas said.

         

          “Childish?  You’re the one who believes in some God that you’ve never seen!” I exclaimed.

          “All I’m asking is that you give your ‘appear in a chair’ a little more serious consideration.  God is not just concerned about you.  If there is a God anything like the one I believe in, then he is concerned about everyone – and that includes everyone who has ever lived and everyone who ever will live.  So if he’s going to get people to believe in him by appearing in chairs, he has to do it for everyone over the whole history of mankind,” Lucas said.

          “OK.  I don’t see a problem with that.”

          “You don’t see a problem with creating some event that has always happened and always will happen?  Such an event would not be considered a miracle – it would just be a ‘natural’ event – like the sun rising every morning,” Lucas stated.

          “It’s not natural for anything to just appear in a chair,” I countered.

          “No, but it would be if it had always happened and always did happen.  That is almost the very definition of a natural event.  What else could you call it?  I mean if your requested ‘miracle’ had been ‘I want a being to appear behind me on the ground whenever I walk around’ and it was something that had always happened, then you would just call it a ‘shadow’, not a miracle,” Lucas said.

          “But that makes my point.  A shadow is a perfectly natural event.  There is a clear scientific, natural explanation for why a shadow appears.  It’s not magic.  It’s not a miracle.  It’s nature.  Are you trying to prove the existence of God using shadows??” I asked, a bit incredulous.

          “Of course not,” Lucas said.  “I’m just trying to point out that no event, no matter how shocking, is going to be sufficient for you to believe in God if it is something that happens all the time.  You will always have a ‘natural’ explanation for it.”

          “Of course I will.  That is because there is only nature.  But if your God does a miracle, then there won’t be an explanation for it,” I countered.

          “What?  Did you just imply that if there is something that happens that cannot be explained by science, you would consider it a miracle?”

          I realized I was on shaky ground.  But Lucas continued without waiting for my response.  “Then how about human consciousness?  It’s not explainable by science and it is something that has always happened and probably always will happen.  It is something that every human being experiences.  Seems like a perfect miracle to show God’s existence.”

          “You love to bring up human consciousness, but that is hardly evidence for the existence of God.  We are close to understanding it – we will eventually figure it out,” I said.

          “Ah, it’s an AYUNE,” Lucas said with a smile.

          “There you go making up words again.”

          “As-yet-unexplained-natural-event,” Lucas said.

          “I know – you told me before.  But consciousness will be explained,” I said.

          “Well, I might debate that – I don’t think neuroscience is even close to explaining human consciousness.  But that’s not my point.  My point is that even if some event were to be unexplainable, you would never consider it to be a miracle,” Lucas said.

          “You’re right.  And I think I’m being pretty logical if I consider natural events to be natural events and don’t ascribe any supernatural meaning to them,” I said with an air of finality.

          “Right.  So the point is that, if God wants to prove himself to you, he cannot use any natural, repeated events, even if they are completely unexplained by modern science.  Any kind of event that he might do to demonstrate his existence, if he does it fairly for every person who has ever lived or ever will live, will be relegated to being described as a natural event.  So, as far as your views are concerned, natural events are ‘out’ for God.  You will not allow God to use them to prove his existence,” Lucas said.

          “I wouldn’t use the term ‘relegated’, but, yes, I think you are summarizing my views pretty well.  Natural events are natural, not supernatural…and you can’t try to turn them into supernatural events by saying they are unexplainable.  You Christians claim that all sorts of natural events are signs of the supernatural, like when someone recovers from cancer or something like that.  It makes no sense.  I don’t see how you can claim that natural events are the evidence for any supernatural being,” I said.

          “I get you.  I think there are Christians who ascribe supernatural significance to natural events without good evidence.  But a lot of that has to do with your starting point.  I don’t really want to get into that.  I want you to try to think about your situation from God’s viewpoint,” Lucas said, looking for some approval from me.

          “Sounds a bit strange – what do you mean?” I asked.

          “I mean, let’s say you were God and you wanted to get ‘you’ to believe – how would you do it?  If you, as God, attempt to perform some supernatural event for every person for all time, ‘you’ would just say ‘that’s a natural event.’  But ‘you’ also don’t accept that there is such a thing as a miracle, so God can’t do that either.  So what is left?  You’ve blocked out every avenue for God to show himself to you and then you stand back and say it is God’s fault for now showing himself to you,” Lucas challenged.

          I needed to think that through a bit, so I tried to put him off for now.  “OK, maybe that’s how it is.  But if your God is so great, he ought to be able to figure it out,” I countered.

          Lucas was on a roll, though.  “It’s like you’re saying to God ‘show yourself’ but then you cover your eyes.  Or you say to God ‘speak to me’ and then you cover your ears.  If you were God, why would you even bother?  If someone doesn’t want to know God with that level of intensity, then why would God bother?  Seems to me that it’s your problem, not God’s problem.”

         

          I didn’t want to talk about this further.  “Fine.  It’s my problem.  So leave me alone with my problem and let’s talk about something else.”

          Lucas nodded.  “OK – let’s eat.  All I’m asking is that you think about it from God’s perspective.  I’ll leave it at that.”

          And with that he took a big bite of his sandwich.  Despite his goofy examples, I felt he probably did make a pretty good point.  But I didn’t want to think about it too much – it was time for lunch.

[...on to Session IV...]

Lunches with Lucas – Session II

<Link to Session I>

         As Lucas approached the table, I searched his face to determine if I was in for another grilling on boring “religious” topics.  But he seemed pretty content.  “Hey Lucas, how are you doing?” I asked.

          “Pretty good – how about yourself?”

          “Great.  I’m ready for one of those huge corned beef sandwiches they have here.  Along with a nice thick layer of horseradish!”  I said.

          “Hah.  Well, I’m glad I’m not working next to you this afternoon!”

          “Horseradish keeps all the bad spirits away – makes for a very successful day” I remarked, putting in a little dig at Lucas.

          “So now you see the ‘supernatural’ everywhere after our last conversation?”

          “No – just horseradish-hating leprechauns,” I joked.  “I don’t see the supernatural in everything, like you do.”

          “So, seriously, I thought it was a pretty fruitful conversation last time,” Lucas said, turning a bit more intense.

          I realized that I had foolishly stepped in to that one.  “I guess so.  I don’t recall it being particularly earth-shattering.”

          “Well, as I recall, we concluded with your view that there is only ‘nature’ and there is no such thing as anything ‘supernatural’, no such thing as a miracle, and no such thing as God.  Would you agree?” Lucas asked.

          “Isn’t it obvious?  I’m not trying to be mean, but I just don’t see ‘God’ anywhere and I don’t see the need to invent ‘God.’  The scientific view just seems the most logical, doesn’t it?  And it seems to me that believing in God just causes people to waste their life going to church and so on.  Doesn’t seem like it does them any good.  I’m happy with my life as it is and I surely don’t need to complicate things with some belief in something that obviously isn’t there.  Like I said, if God wants me to be believe in him, that’s his problem…or ‘her’ problem…or ‘its’ problem or whatever.  It’s not my problem,” I said, hoping to close out this particular topic.

          “Well, maybe it is your problem.  I mean, if there is a God and you have to face him in the afterlife, you’re going to have to answer for why you didn’t believe in him,” Lucas challenged. 

          “First of all, that’s not going to happen because there is no God.  But I’m glad you brought that up because that’s something that really bothers me.  God has no case against me or anyone else.  It would be totally unreasonable for God to blame me for not believing in him.  It’s his fault.  If he wanted me to believe in him then he should make it more obvious.  I’m a reasonable person – if the evidence were there, then I would believe in him.  If God hides from me, and then blames me for not believing in him, I think that is a pretty unjust God.  Is that the kind of God you believe in?” I asked, fairly irritated.

Lucas’ face brightened at statement, which annoyed me.  “Are you saying that God should make himself more obvious?” he asked.

          “Absolutely.  Like I said, when I look around, I don’t see any real evidence for God.  Everything has a logical explanation.  And the reason there is no obvious evidence for God is that he isn’t there to begin with,” I said.

          “Excellent.  God should make himself obvious?” Lucas asked.

          “Yes.”

          “Good.  Now we are getting somewhere,” Lucas said, still looking pleased.

          “What are you talking about?  We haven’t gotten anywhere.  All we’ve done is establish that your belief in God is founded on no evidence whatsoever and that, if there is a God, he is totally unjust and unreasonable and not worth believing in.  That’s where we’ve gotten,” I said.

“OK – so how should God make himself obvious?” Lucas asked.

          I was a bit frustrated that we were still going on about this.  “It’s easy.  There are lots of ways God could be obvious.  I mean, he could just appear right here and get the whole thing over with,” I said, pointing at the empty chair at our table.  “It’s simple.”

“Appear?” Lucas asked.  “You mean like “poof” – there he is?”

“Yeah – something like that.  That’s all it would take,” I said.

“All you would need is some kind of appearance?” Lucas asked.

“Sure – if God can do anything, then a little sudden appearance ought to be easy.  That would make an open and shut case and then I would believe.”

“I assume you’re talking about a miraculous appearance.  I mean, it wouldn’t be enough if George Burns walked up and sat down there and said he was God, would it?” Lucas asked.

“George Burns?  Wow, you are old!  No, I’m not talking about someone just walking up and sitting down – that could happen any time.  I’m talking about an appearance.  In fact, a flash of light and a little smoke would help,” I said.

“So you want a miracle?” Lucas asked, with an air of finality.

“Yes – a simple miracle.”

“But you don’t believe in miracles,” Lucas challenged.

“I know, so that’s why I don’t believe in God.  It’s not going to happen anyway,” I said

“No, I mean you’ve told me that there can’t be any such thing as a miracle.  There are only things that seem like miracles to people in the past, but they are all explainable by scientific investigation.  You’ve told me that everything has a natural cause,” Lucas said, leaning forward.

“Right - everything is just by natural causes.  There is no hidden supernatural being behind it all.  What’s the point?” I asked.

“So even if God appears right here next to us, you wouldn’t believe.  You’d just say it was some as-yet-unexplained natural event – an “AYUNE”.  A hallucination.  Indigestion.  A unique weather event.  Something,” Lucas challenged.

I was a bit taken aback, realizing I was on a bit shakier ground than I liked.  “Well, I mean, if it was so obvious…We’re talking about a being appearing out of thin air.  That would be obvious.”

“But now you’re bending your own rules.  You mean that there can be some miracles as long as they are miraculous enough?”

“Well, I’m talking about things that could only be explained by supernatural means.  Someone appearing in the chair is a supernatural event,” I said.

“Wait a minute!  Earlier you said that everything has a natural explanation, and now you’re backtracking.”

“I’m not backtracking.  There’s no one sitting there and there never will be anyone or anything that just appears there.  The point is there are no miracles.  That’s what I’m trying to say,” I said.

“But if I understand your view correctly, you not only believe that there are no miracles, but there never could be miracles,” Lucas challenged.

“Well…” I said, trying to figure out how to explain my views. 

“You’ve told me before,” Lucas interjected “that the reason you don’t even consider that anyone has ever actually risen from the dead is that there is no such thing as miracles.  But now you’re saying that there could be miracles.  Face it – you’re waffling on your own beliefs.”

“Ok, ok.  That’s not what I meant.  I know where you want to go with that.  My point is that it’s not my problem how to figure it out – it’s God’s problem.  If he wants me to believe in him, then he’s got to blow me away with something.”

“But no matter what it is, according to what you’ve told me before, no matter how miraculous it was, you’d say it is an ‘AYUNE’.”

I didn’t like that he create some new word.  “You’re making it sound illogical, but my view is the most logical.  It’s based on scientific observation.  And since there is no God, there won’t be any violation of my views.  Besides, if your God is so great, then he’s going to have to figure it out.  It shouldn’t be hard for him.”

“So,” Lucas said, with a certain air of finality, “it is God’s responsibility to prove himself to you, but he can’t use any miraculous means because you won’t accept any miracles.  What does that leave him with?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, if God can’t use any ‘supernatural’ means to prove Himself to you, then that only leaves natural means, right?” Lucas asked.

“Sure – he’s God – he’s got to figure it out.”

“Through natural means only?”

“Why do you say ‘through natural means only?’” I asked, a bit confused.

“Well, isn’t it basic logic to say that if everything is divided into ‘natural’ and ‘supernatural’, and you get rid of ‘supernatural’, then the only thing left is ‘natural’.”

“I guess, if that’s how you want to put it,” I said.

“So, to summarize, you are convinced there is no God because you don’t see him.  But in order for him to appear to you, it would have to be through some natural means?” Lucas asked.

“It doesn’t have to be something ‘natural’ – it just can’t be a miracle.”

“So God has to prove himself to you and he can’t use any supernatural means.  He just has to use natural means.  Is that a correct statement?”

I wasn’t really sure that sounded right, but I was ready to move on.  “Sure, if that’s how you want to phrase it, fine.  Are you happy now?” I asked, hoping to wrap this up.

“Yeah, that’s enough thinking for now.  Let’s eat,” Lucas said with a smile.

“You’re not done with this, are you?” I said.

“Hah” he said with a big smile.  “I’ve got a lot more up my sleeve.  But right now I think it’s time for that horseradish!”

“You too?  I didn’t think you liked horseradish,” I said.

“Well, with enough of that wafting into our brains, we might just see someone appear in that chair…maybe even ten someones!”

“Good luck with that!” I said as I took a good first bite and let the horseradish clear my brain from the conversation.

[On to Session III]

Lunches with Lucas – Session I

I gave Lucas a slight wave as he came in, as if to signal to him where I was sitting.  Not that it made any sense – we’d sat at this same table every week for as long as either of us could remember.  I noticed that Lucas sat down with a more intense look than usual.

“What’s up?” I asked.

Lucas responded with a smile, but clearly he had an agenda on his mind.  “Prove to me that God doesn’t exist!” he said.

“Whoa – usually you wait until we start eating to launch into your philosophical questions – why are you in such a hurry?”

“No hurry really.  I was just thinking that I’m usually the one on the defense – trying to ‘prove God’ and ‘explain the Bible’ and ‘justify why Christians do such awful things.’  Just seemed like it was time to turn the tables,” Lucas said with grin.  He obviously felt he had found some great line of thinking and was anxious to try it out.  “So – let’s have it – let’s hear your proof.”

I laughed at him in a way you can only do with an old friend.  “You know that’s not my problem.  You’re the one who has to prove things.  If you want people to believe in God, then the burden of proof is on you.”

“You’re just dodging the question.  Everyone has a ‘burden of proof’ if they want to make their point.  We each have our different viewpoint and if we want to argue our point, then we have an equal burden of proof.” 

“I don’t know about that, but the difference is that I don’t care if you agree with me – that’s why I don’t have the burden of proof,” I said.

“Hah!” he smiled.  “I’m pretty sure that you really do care.  Can’t we just agree that everyone has a burden of proof if they are trying to intelligently defend their point of view…and then we can move on to a real discussion?”

I had to admit that he had a reasonable point, but I didn’t feel like yielding the issue too easily.  “I’m not sure about that but, for the sake of a ‘real discussion’ as you call it, I’ll grant that we each have an equal burden of proof…although I think your burden of proof is more equal than mine!”

Lucas ignored my Orwellian reference.  He clearly wanted to get on with his agenda.  “Fine.  I’ll take that as the best I’m going to get.  So, now, will you consider my original question – how do you prove God does not exist?”

I was a bit surprised that Lucas was expressing such a simpleton question.  He usually started the conversation with something much more subtle and obtuse.  “You know that’s a trick question and not even worth addressing.  You can’t prove a universal negative like that.”  I figured Lucas would give me some slack regarding that last statement.

“So you admit that God could exist?” Lucas said, seeming pleased.

I rolled my eyes.  “Are you kidding me?  Is that your goal for the day – to get me to admit that there is some miniscule chance that God exists and then proclaim ‘then you must not be an atheist’?  That’s an old lame argument Lucas – I thought you were better than that.”  I could see, though, that he wasn’t serious – he was just trying to get me riled up.

“You know I have no interest in that.  I always use a more practical definition: an atheist is one who lives as if there were no God.  I’m not interested in technicalities of label definitions.  Actually, I know plenty of Christians who seem to qualify as atheists based on how they live!”

I was still confused as to where Lucas was going with this.  “So what’s your point?” 

Lucas thought for a moment.  “I think I’m not phrasing my question right.  …I mean, you are pretty certain there is no God, right?”

“Right.”

“You’re so certain that you’d bet your life on it, right?  I mean, really, you already have bet your life on it,” Lucas said.

“I suppose you could phrase it that way.  But, yes, as you know, I don’t think it is reasonable at all to believe that God exists,” I said.

“OK – good.  So, what is it that makes you so certain?  I know you understand that I’m not asking for proof – I know you can’t give 100% proof and neither can I – but you pretty much live your life based on the high probability that there is no God.  What gives you the confidence to live that way?”

I kind of felt like we had talked about this before, but it seemed like an open invitation to review the overwhelming evidence.  So, I let loose with my thoughts without bothering to be too organized.  “Well, first of all, all you have to do is look around.  Where is God in anything you see?  I don’t imagine there are leprechauns behind every tree and I don’t imagine there is God behind every bush.  When I look around, I don’t make things up.  Everything is natural and logical.  If there is an eclipse of the sun, I don’t freak out and think it is God at work – I know it is just the natural orbiting pattern of the planets.  I think it rains because of the weather patterns – ultimately based on laws of physics.  I don’t think it rains because some grandma somewhere prayed for it to rain.  I’m a scientist – so are you – and science has eliminated the need for explaining things through myths and fairy tales and by invoking supernatural beings.  I don’t need God to go through life.  Adding some idea of God just adds a lot of complication needlessly.  I’ve never found the need to bring God in.”

“Good,” Lucas said, “now we’re getting somewhere.  So you think science explains everything.”

“I’m not sure that I would phrase it as ‘science’ explains everything.  But we understand that everything around us is a natural process and so there is a no need to bring God into our explanations.”

“Great.  So how does science explain human consciousness?”

“I figured you’d go there.  Actually, I’m kind of surprised you didn’t ask me to explain human free will.”

“I wanted to,” he said with a smile, “but I know you don’t think there is such a thing as free will.  But everyone agrees there is such a thing as human consciousness.”

“I admit that human consciousness doesn’t have a really good explanation yet.  But there is plenty of work on that.  Just because we can’t explain it beginning to end doesn’t mean that we just throw up our hands and say ‘oh – it must be God at work.’”

“So, basically you believe that science will explain everything that hasn’t been explained?  Doesn’t that take a lot of faith?  Sounds like a religious belief to me.”

I knew Lucas was trying to get in one of his favorite digs.  “I know you like to call it ‘faith’ because it makes you feel better.  But we’re talking about a logical pattern of human thinking that has carried on for probably thousands of years but certainly for the past five hundred years.  As man has carefully explored the universe, he has discovered that there are logical and natural explanations for the things he sees.  The track record of science is overwhelming here.  It’s not just that science has done a good job of explaining a few things.  Almost everything has already been shown to fit into the logical framework of physics.  So, yes, I feel very confident that the few remaining ‘unknowns’ will eventually be explained based on those same laws of physics.  Or maybe it will require new laws of physics.  But the point is, the explanations will be based on nature, not God.  I’m standing on a very solid foundation here.  I know you don’t like it, but it’s not ‘faith’ – it’s based on the overwhelming evidence of the past.”

“So is science going to explain the resurrection of Jesus?” Lucas asked.

“Science doesn’t have to explain ancient myths.  But what science does show is that when we see or experience something unexpected – something you might call a ‘miracle’ – we find that it has a natural explanation.  Like an eclipse, as I mentioned before.”

“There’s a natural explanation for someone rising from the dead?”

“Well, there might be.  But in the case you’re talking about, it is clear that it didn’t happen the way you think it did.  I mean who knows if Jesus was even real.”

Lucas didn’t take my bait on my last statement.  “How do you know how it happened?  You weren’t there.”

“Right, and neither were you.  But, unlike you, I stand on the strong and firm foundation of science and history.  We know now that there is no such thing as miracles.  If someone is truly dead, they stay dead.  Again, the evidence there is overwhelming.  All of human history tells us that.  And science has helped explain why that is.  So when someone tells me that something happened that I know can’t happen, I don’t just so ‘oh, well, I guess five hundred years of science should be thrown out the window because you just saw a ghost.’  That’s foolishness.  When you try to tell me that someone 2000 years ago came to life after being dead for a few days, I don’t take it seriously at all.  I know you’d like to believe it happened, but it never happened and never will happen.”  I felt a little bad at pushing Lucas’s buttons, but then, he was the one who brought it up.  I was just here for a nice friendly lunch.

“Perfect then,” Lucas said with some finality, “there are no miracles.  There never have been any miracles in the past and there never will be any miracles in the future.”  He looked at me for some confirmation, but I said nothing.  “Right?” he challenged.

“Look, I can go through my day without needing to invoke any existence of a God or miracles or any other supernatural event.  I’m sorry that you don’t agree, but there is just no such thing as a miracle.  Everything has a natural explanation, not a supernatural one.”

“So, in the whole entire universe, there is nothing supernatural.”

“Everything is nature.”

“And you’re sure of that even though you haven’t been everywhere in the universe.”

I was a little frustrated with Lucas at this point.  “Now you’re back to looking for proof.  Of course I haven’t looked everywhere.  Neither have you.  But as far as everything that every human being has looked into for as long as history has been recorded, there is no finding of a ‘super-nature’.  Everything is just ‘nature.’  Have you looked and found some ‘super-nature’ under a rock somewhere?”

“Actually yes.”  Lucas brightened, “I found ‘super-nature’ behind a big rock in front of a tomb in Jerusalem.” 

Lucas was impressed with himself, I could see.  I was not.  I just rolled my eyes.  “Can we just eat?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said.  “Let me just summarize:  there is only nature and there is no such thing as anything ‘supernatural’, no such thing as a miracle, and no such thing as God.  There never has been and there never will be.  Is that about right?”

“Sounds good.  I hope you’re satisfied,” I said.  “I’ll be more satisfied when I can finish this sandwich!”

“OK.  We’ll talk more next time.”

“Oh, I really can’t wait!” I said…lying.

 <Next...Session II>

The Divide

          It seems that there is a greater divide in our society these days, particularly on moral issues.  I’m not totally sure that perception is reality – there was certainly a big divide during the 60’s – the 1960’s.  And, of course, the divide in the 1860’s has to be considered the worst.  That latter divide was only “resolved” by a civil war.  The current divide is not likely to be solved by a physical war, but I don’t see how the divide can stop progressing, becoming worse and worse.  I don’t know what the end result will be, but it does not seem good.

          I’d like to illustrate what I see as the fundamental problem and then offer a suggestion that could at least start the process for finding a solution.

          One big divide is on issues related to homosexuality.  People on both sides of the fence have views that are in direct opposition to one another.  Fundamentally, there are plenty of people on each side of that issue who cannot even imagine how someone could hold the opposite view to theirs.  That’s a big divide.  But focusing on that issue doesn’t get at the more foundational problem, and therefore arguing about such issues goes nowhere. 

          Instead, I think it is more instructive to look at issues that essentially everyone agrees on, and dig a bit deeper.  I’m going to pick one to serve as an example:  child molestation.  I think everyone would agree that child molestation is wrong.

          We have to then ask ourselves:  why do we consider child molestation to be wrong?  There are some, particularly Christians, who generally use the Bible as their basis for deciding truth.  They might choose a Bible verse to justify the view that such a thing is wrong.  If they do take this approach, their basis for considering child molestation to be wrong could also cause them to have the view that any sex outside of marriage is wrong.  They would have many “absolutes” like this that are based on Biblical teaching.  The same could be said for other religions that rely on a written set of absolutes.  Some people would not use a Bible verse to support their views but essentially hold the same view as those who do.  They may believe there are moral absolutes, but they couldn’t necessarily be able to articulate them succinctly.  For those individuals, a written moral code, such as the Bible, is an implied basis for making moral decisions, but they wouldn’t necessarily go back to the source. 

          However, the divide that we really have is that many people would generally reject the idea of a moral absolute.  They would say that everything is relative.  But, in general, they would still contend that child molestation is just plain wrong.  In that case, they need some other means of establishing that child molestation is wrong.  Here is where we can begin to explore the real foundations of our current divide.

          A first common means of establishing a moral “semi-absolute” would be that since “everyone” agrees that child molestation is wrong, then it is obviously wrong.  This implies a belief that moral issues can be decided by a kind of “majority rule.”  I think a lot of people probably implicitly have this view, although it is almost never stated explicitly.  That’s probably because it is a very slippery slope full of pitfalls.  For example, how big does the “everyone” in “everyone thinks it is wrong” have to be?  How big of a majority?  A 100% majority is impossible to achieve.  Is a mere 51% majority sufficient?  Who knows?  And who gets surveyed to make this decision?  There are plenty of practical issues like that, but a deeper problem with the “morals by majority” approach is that it often breaks down and becomes pretty immoral.  If a majority of people in the US South in the 1850’s thought that slavery was right, does that mean it was right?  Some might argue about the means of selecting and determining such a majority vote, but the basic problem is that there are moral issues that are clearly wrong (or right) regardless of what a majority of people might think at any given point in time or location.  I don’t think we can totally throw out the idea of a majority rule for moral issues, but it just doesn’t make a very good foundation.

          I know there are a variety of strategies through which views on moral issues are decided without relying on absolutes, but I just want to focus on what, I think, would be the second most common response, at least with respect to child molestation.  That would be:  “anything that hurts another person is wrong.”  This statement itself is actually a moral absolute, but let’s ignore that for the moment.  Christianity is not the only place where such a sentiment is found.  One could say that “everyone” agrees with this idea (although I’m not totally sure that it is true).  It doesn’t really matter at this point.  The point is, basing moral decisions on the principle that if it hurts someone else, then it is wrong, is a pretty good principle that works a lot of the time.

          We have to go further to find the real divide.  I’m going to add a scenario that, although it is currently science fiction, is not really that far out from reality.  Specifically, consider the situation where we can immerse the child molester into a virtual reality situation that is so real that, as far as the child molester can know, the virtual reality world is the real world.  Now, let us allow the child molester to carry out his immoral acts in this virtual world.  He believes it is real.  But no actual, real child is hurt.

          Would that make child molestation in that case ok?  Or, at least, would it make the virtual act be ok (not calling it “child molestation”, since that has a moral meaning, but maybe calling it just a “virtual role-play”)? 

          I believe there are some at least, maybe more than a few, who would say that in the case of the virtual situation, that is ok.  No one is hurt.  Maybe we have to incarcerate child molesters so they don’t go out in the real world, but this type of virtual act is not morally wrong.  Actually, at the present time (2017) I would say that this view is more likely to come out in a different way:  people would defend the right of the virtual reality game-makers to include child molestation in the games they develop.  They would say that the developers have a right to create whatever game they want and there should be no moral absolutes applied to it.  But creating the game is not that far from playing it.  Thus, even if very few people would defend the “virtual” child molester today, I expect that, within the time frame it will take to create such a game, people’s views will have progressed to the point of saying that playing such a game is ok as well.

          And then, of course, there are those who would be sickened by the whole concept.  To them, whether someone is hurt or not, child molestation is wrong.  It is a moral absolute.  The idea isn’t up for discussion – it is just plain wrong.

          That is a really big divide.

          And we have to live together in the same country somehow.

          In the next entry I’m going to propose a solution.  Neither side will like it!

Conveying Information...

...or "Welcome to My Caveat Emptor World"!

          Imagine someone knocks on your door and when you open up, it is your neighbor and they start telling you all sorts of things in an intense tone:

“I noticed you have a big crack in your sidewalk – someone might trip on that.  Also I see that downspout is loose and it might fall and hit someone.  I saw a couple of termites coming out from that post there holding up the porch – probably should get that checked out.  I found this nail in your driveway.  I noticed that there are flames shooting out of your upstairs window.  There are some frayed cable wires by the side of your house – some animal is chewing on them.  Oh, and part of the fencing around the base of your deck is broken – animals love to get underneath and take up residence there…”

…and while he is still talking, another neighbor rushes up and says:

“There are flames shooting out of your upstairs window!”

          Now I ask you – which neighbor gave you the most information?

          Both neighbors told you that there were flames shooting out of your upstairs window.  But the first neighbor told you a lot more than that.  So isn’t it obvious that the first neighbor gave you the most information?

          Well, not to me.  To me it is obvious that the second neighbor gave the most information.  Even assuming that everything the first neighbor said was true, I say that the additional information clouds the important issue and therefore it borders on dis-information.  More information is not always more information.

          What’s the point?  The point is that our society is operating under the full assumption and belief that the first neighbor is clearly the better neighbor and is clearly providing more information.  And I don’t buy it one bit.

          I’ll just pick on one example, but there are many many other examples.  Specifically:  commercials for a new drug.  The FDA requires those commercials to list all of the possible side-effects of the drug.  Great idea.  Make sure the public knows about those.  For example, how about this one[1]:

“…Invokana can cause important side effects, including dehydration, which may cause you to feel dizzy, faint, lightheaded, or weak, especially when you stand up. Other side effects may include kidney problems, genital yeast infections, urinary tract infections, changes in urination, high potassium in the blood, or increases in cholesterol. Do not take Invokana if you have severe kidney problems, or are on dialysis. Stop taking and call your doctor right away, if you experience symptoms, such as rash, swelling, or difficulty breathing or swallowing, Tell your doctor about any medical conditions, medications you are taking, and if you have kidney or liver problems. Using Invokana with a sulfonylurea or insulin may increase risk of low blood sugar. ...”

          I know that many people consider drug companies evil and just out to get your money and that they would (and do) try to hide all of the side-effects of their drugs in order to make a profit.  Of course they do – they are a for-profit company.  Drugs have side-effects.  You should expect that.  As a result, you probably do have to require drug companies to present all of their side-effects or they will have a tendency not to do it.  I am not opposed to that.  What I am opposed to is being required to list every side-effect, essentially regardless of severity and frequency, in a big monologue laundry list. 

          What I would rather see is that the commercials must list the three (maximum!) most common or most severe side-effects.  Probably, in general, this would end up being an agreed-upon combination of frequency and severity.  As a default, I would say that in most cases we would want to know the most frequent side-effect (probably dizziness in the case of Invokana[2]) and the two most severe side-effects (I’m not sure what that would be in the case of Invokana – maybe the fact that you shouldn’t take it if you have kidney problems or are on dialysis).  In most cases, you would need to parse out the data a bit first to make a determination of what should be listed.  For example, if a study subject dies after taking a drug, that is obviously a severe side-effect.  But if a single death occurred in a study of 1000 subjects, and the death had an unknown relation to the drug, then that one might fall off the list in favor of something more common but somewhat less severe.  For example, if that same drug resulted in osteoporosis such that 5% of the study subjects had fractures within one year of being on the drug, that would certainly rise to the top of the list!  What I am suggesting is not simple to implement because it does take a judgement call.  I believe, however, that it would provide more information than an unranked laundry list.  Even on the package inserts, I would want to see those top three items in bold, larger font, and all the rest of the laundry list in smaller font (or just direct the super curious to a website where they can read the whole study results). 

          I think this approach would allow consumers to make a better comparison about the severity of side-effects of different drugs.  If drug A has a top three of:  1) light-headedness, 2) urinary tract infections, and 3) don’t take it if you have kidney problems; and drug B has a top three of:  1) tachycardia, 2) heart attack, 3) death…well, doesn’t that tell you something very important right away?

          I know that there are those who argue that such an approach is hiding a bunch of other side-effects and “what if I get one that isn’t listed?”  Well, that is certain to happen – rarely.  If you take a drug, any drug, you just have to know that you might be the one in one thousand who gets the odd, unusual, and possibly severe side-effect.  Or maybe you are the one in one thousand who gets a side-effect that no one encountered in the clinical trial and so it was unknown anyway.  In my opinion, you just have to know there is an underlying risk going into it, and accept that risk (or live in a bubble).

          Going back to my original illustration, let’s just say that one in ten-thousand side-walk cracks indicate an impending sinkhole, of which 1% of those sinkholes will be big enough to swallow your whole house.  Thus it may be – just possibly – that your sidewalk crack indicates a bigger impending doom than the fact that there are flames coming out of your upstairs window.  To me, the trade-off is worth the risk in this case.  If, by giving a laundry list of all the risks, you miss the one key risk that is most critical, most common, and most immediate, then that is a bad outcome.  For the one person who is about to be swallowed up in a sinkhole while his upstairs burns, well…he is having one really really bad day and there is nothing we can do about it.  Instead, I say, be like neighbor #2 and convey the critical information.  Better yet, bring your hose with you!

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[1] I don’t know anything about Invokana – I just picked this one randomly because I could find the text of their commercial online easily.

[2] I didn’t go back and check the data here about Invokana – I’m just guessing for the sake of example here.