Defining Faith between Theism and Atheism
Eying a discussion hosted by atheist blogger Leah Libresco on whether both theists and atheists can have faith of the same sort, my friend Darwin throws his papist hat into ring, rightly noting that faith, in the context of the discussion, should be understood as an act of the will:
To have faith, or to believe, is not simply to make an passive assessment as to the probability that something is true, it is to decide to believe something to be the case or not be the case (and one presumes to act accordingly.)
I would call belief an aspect of faith, but otherwise I’m in agreement with what Darwin says. Faith is neither certain knowledge nor a sure feeling, but the choice to walk in darkness (with or without having seen a great light). Understood in this way, faith can be had by both the theist and atheist:
[F]aith being an act, just about everyone ends up acting in some way on a given point in which they must make a decision as to what to believe. In many situations, even refusing to act ends up being some kind of an act. As in, for instance, if I had refused to act in any way as if I believed that my future wife loved me, you can probably bet that she wouldn’t have married me. Virtually any act (including refusing to act) that I chose to take would have represented a “bet”, either slight or strong, that she either did or did not love me. Refusal to take a position on the question was not really an option.
Darwin’s example of the faith held and lived by lovers works especially well here because love demands total and unconditional self-giving; there’s no middle ground, no wishy-washiness in love. Lovers must have faith in one another and each other’s love because their love cannot be made known inductively or deductively. Rather, the signs of love must be interpreted under the guidance of faith. Without this faith, one might as well pick flower petals. I do not confirm my wife’s love for me through any scientific method or logical progression. Sure, I can tell she loves me when she surprises me with a six-pack of high-quality beer or wastes one of her limited number of texts to inform me that Gillian Anderson is bi-sexual (she knows of my infatuations and humors me). But here’s the key: I interpret the expressions of her love as such because I believe her when she tells me of her love and when she shows it to me. I respond to her love with faith and in faith, and I return her love in and with the faith that I truly love her.
Faith, I’ve learned, is a type of response, not only of the mind, but also of the will. To have faith is to say “Yes” in both word and deed. Those of us whose faith is religious would describe our faith as a response to a God who reveals or, more broadly, as a response to an event interpreted as sacred–a response that results in both belief and action in accordance with belief. Because having faith means walking in darkness, i.e., without epistemological certainty, faith cannot be defined as a response to conclusive evidence or the conclusions of sound reasoning; nevertheless, life presents situations such as love in which faith is precisely what is called for. Faith is needed where something has happened that calls for the choice to believe or not believe and to act accordingly. Whether we’re talking about Mary’s fiat or a groom’s “I do” or a host’s hospitality to the visitation of a stranger, we refer to an act of the will, a response, a choice to say “Yes” without certainty and its comforts. We speak of faith.
(Image: The First Mourning by William-Adolphe Bouguereau)
I’m assembling notes for a thing about Judea Pearl and Bayesian networks. We don’t have to know literally everything to reach a reasonable conclusion. There is a gray area between faith and reason: there has to be.
Reason is a pipedream — humans don’t use reason. Maybe people build computers that do it well. Humans make guesses, and back them up with their gut (literally!)
Reason isn’t a pipe dream. Philosophy, like religion, is being pushed farther and farther from anything to say about reasoning. Most input is subjective anyway.
psht. who reads philosophy? I read cognitive theorists, who do actual experiments on Real People…
(which is not to say that I haven’t had a philosophy course or two… the only time anyone wanted to talk bayesian networks)
All I do is implement policy for people with better things to do than mess around with drudgery and its attendant screwups. Let people handle exceptions: that’s what we do best.
If you’ve ever argued using modus ponens , you’ve used reason. It’s not a pipedream. In fact, we use it all the time. It’s inescapable.
Now, if you mean Kantian pure reason, then I think you’re right. But Kant made the mistake of trying to refute Hume. See how well that worked out for him?
Reason is not the slave of the passions nor vice versa. Reason is the excuse for the passions.
I don’t want to pound on this Hume thing too hard, ya know? Reason exists independently of the passions. And reason can shape our actions. And passions can compel us to reason and action. And reason can compel is to refrain from acting on a passion.
I mean, all those seem to be true and consistent with Hume.
Now, PURE reason as the causal source of action? I think establishing that view requires a lot of work, no?
well put
Stillwater,
Reason without passion is pathological. At least that’s what experiments show. Reason comes through the body, through our psychosomatic responses to different ideas. Our emotions and our reasoning are interconnected — no surprise that, Mama Nature is a crazy mad scientist, cackling at our ideas of a watchmaker — she makes rube goldberg devices, and halfway through builds a second on the first.
Yeah, I get you, Stillwater. The farther I get into cognitive systems, the less heed I pay to the philosophers. They all seem like so many headline writers.
We don’t have to know literally everything to reach a reasonable conclusion. There is a gray area between faith and reason: there has to be.
Well sure. I wouldn’t say that faith picks up where, say, logical proof or scientific methodology are unable to reach a conclusion. A best guess based on inconclusive evidence may be reasonable and require no act of faith. Faith is needed where something has happened that calls for the choice to believe or not believe and to act accordingly.
It turns out all, not some of our conclusions are best guesses. It’s turtles all the way down. No sooner does some glittering statement of fact appear than it melts in the harsh light of its subjective axioms.
Some “guesses” are better than others.
And we now have a scientific approach to that problem, based on the simple fact that “better” is always a subjective judgement, anyway.
The problem of atheism is that there are about as many kinds of atheists as there are theists.
There are atheists who were raised that way. There are atheists who never had it discussed at all and respond to theism the way that I respond to, say, the Irish sport of Hurling (fascinating to watch, wouldn’t want to play). There are atheists who resent the Christianity with which they were raised. There are atheists who have outgrown the Christianity with which they were raised. One could go on and on and on. From the apathist to the Super-Atheist to the Straussian Paternal Atheist, there are a *LOT* of different flavors out there.
A handful are similar to Christianity, just with different virtues, vices, totems, and taboos. It’s these flavors of atheism that make for the strongest comparisons.
And then there are atheists like Richard Dawkins, who’s decided that he isn’t actually an atheist after all.
When the term “atheism” communicates group membership rather than conclusions one has reached about the possibility of the existence of god(s), then it has little to distinguish it from religion (as practiced).
Which says at least as much about religion (as practiced) as it does about atheism.
I don’t think it’s necessary to have faith in order to make a decision. If you can’t choose between alternatives either by what you know or by what you would like to be true then to make a decision it is only necessary to realise that no decision is a poor option. One might know this from the comparatively certain facts of a situation and be without the need to have faith that the “no decision” option is a bad idea.
Another thing one could say about faith is it probably contains an element of believing in that which one would like to be true. I completely agree that faith is an act of volition where mere belief may be an involuntary reaction to evidence.
I completely agree that faith is an act of volition where mere belief may be an involuntary reaction to evidence.
I think that’s an important distinction. The type of faith theists hold seems to me to be distinguished from other types of faith which are generally shared (by both theists and atheists) in that the willed belief is held despite the evidence. Or at a minimum, in the absence of evidence.
I contend that I have an oddly empirical (and utilitarian) faith. You see, I choose to believe in G-d, even if he doesn’t exist. Because it makes me a better person.
So then truth doesn’t matter to you?
it doesn’t matter to me in terms of my faith. I’m more of an agnostic than most theists, it is true.
then again, I don’t think G-d answers prayers…
Honesty. How refreshing.
God does answer prayers. He grants the wishes of the stupid every day.
I don’t think it’s necessary to have faith in order to make a decision. If you can’t choose between alternatives either by what you know or by what you would like to be true then to make a decision it is only necessary to realise that no decision is a poor option.
Okay, so let’s take the case of love between spouses. They cannot make their love known except by signs that necessitate interpretation guided by belief and trust, and it doesn’t seem anywhere near adequate to say their commitment is based on what they’d like to be true. So, what then, is their choice to commit no better than their choice to separate?
I know it’s rather naive but my love for my wife is unconditional. It does not depend on reciprocal signals or my making a conscious decision. It’s an emotional state that partly defines who I am. If my state should change, again there is no decision on my part about my state. Whether I stayed with my wife would depend on her feelings toward me and my residual feelings towards her. At the moment I can’t imagine not doing everything I can to avoid hurting her.
So faith is also the act of believing in what has previously been shown to be true but for which you currently have incomplete evidence? How banal.
This is a common rhetorical technique believers use to make their belief in the supernatural seem reasonable. The faith needed to believe that a dude lived inside a whale’s belly for 3 days, or a thousand year old man ushered two of every species onboard a giant boat is not equivalent to the faith I needed to believe that my ’84 Corolla would start up on a cold morning.
We don’t have evidence that people can live inside whales, or that millions of species can peacefully cohabitate in a confined space for 40 days and nights. In fact we have a tremendous amount of evidence to the contrary. That is religious faith.
Maimonides had not that faith. He spoke of the Torah as allegory, stories told to be understandable, not truth.
Think about it — how would G-d tell mere mortals the infinity that is truth?
So faith is also the act of believing in what has previously been shown to be true but for which you currently have incomplete evidence?
No.
This is a common rhetorical technique believers use to make their belief in the supernatural seem reasonable. The faith needed to believe that a dude lived inside a whale’s belly for 3 days, or a thousand year old man ushered two of every species onboard a giant boat is not equivalent to the faith I needed to believe that my ’84 Corolla would start up on a cold morning.
No.
‘fraid so, pal. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.
All allegorical except for the part about God being real, right? Useful metaphors right up ’til the rubber meets the road.
Heh. Now if only someone would invent a tire where the rubber only met the road at a single point on a perfectly flat road. Alas, that reality is such a bitch, that it resists definition so obtusely.
The proof, as they say, is in the pudding.
Just a quick response to the original post: Isn’t one of the problems that we all run into when talking about faith vs non-faith is that we forget that often times words have more than one meaning?
An example: “…I believe her when she tells me of her love…” Surely the use of the word “believe” in that sentence is quite different that the use of the word “believe” in this one: “I believe in God.” She’s standing right in front of you speaking to you. Unless you have a far more interesting story to tell us, there is no God standing right in front of you speaking to you. Same word, but vastly different effects. “Faith in my wife” versus “faith in the lord.” Not really the same faith, is it?
It’s a bit too easy to make points by using different senses of the word, and yet not noting that shift in the text.
(None of this is intended to be ad hominem. I applaud both your relationship and your faith. Good for you.)
But one other point now that my keyboard is warming up. To me, at least, “atheism” is such a simple thing. I don’t believe in God. Any god. Or even g-d. I just don’t, period. Easy. Simple. Jaybird says: “The problem of atheism is that there are about as many kinds of atheists as there are theists.” Well, yeah. But there are as many kinds of Chevy owners as there are Ford owners. And as many kinds of burger cookers as there are carrot peelers. That’s not really talking about atheism or Chevies or burgers — that’s talking about the differences across the human experience.
But atheism itself is a very simple thing. “Nah, not that stuff.” Reams can be written about the people who feel that way and what they say and their effects on the world. But the concept itself is absolutely simple. You may not understand my non-belief and I certainly don’t get your belief — but this idea that there is this deep complexity in the concept of atheism itself seems a bit absurd to me.
You’re right to distinguish between religious faith and the faith of spouses in their love, and I want to make clear that I do as well; however, the difference between them is more in their objects and not so much in the acts themselves. In having both examples of faith, I’m basically doing the same thing (believing and acting in accordance with this belief) even though the object of the former is perhaps less believable and certainly more distant than the object of the latter. In both examples of faith, the invisible is made visible through signs, signs that are given a particular meaningful direction within the “light” of faith.
Well, atheism’s consistent problem is one of definitions. So you don’t believe in God or the FSM or any of those constructs one finds in temples and churches, etc. That’s great, to this believer. We don’t believe in that kind of God, either. That’s for illiterate rubes anyway, so much stained glass in the windows.
But myths are a different animal entirely. For all the pseudo-archaeology surrounding King Arthur and Camelot, the myth will continue on its merry way through history and thousands of boys will be inspired to behave themselves honorably and see in those sad stories (everyone fails, everyone’s betrayed, nobody measures up, the story ends on a terribly sad note ) by that legend.
Do you believe in King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table? Of course you don’t. I don’t either. But I take religion seriously enough to believe there’s a hunger in the human heart that mere reason will never satisfy. People did believe in King Arthur though. Henry VII did. Named his son Arthur. Based the entire Tudor raison d’etre upon that legend.
Atheism may define itself as “Nah, not that stuff.” All fine and good, at least you don’t buy into myths as historical fact. But Henry VIII was a real enough character in human history and he believed in King Arthur.
Back when I was in training as an artillery forward observer, we learned how to determine the direction of enemy fire by measuring impact craters. If the round came in from directly overhead, the crater would be a perfect circle. But no such crater could possibly exist: they’re all ovals. The incoming round came from along the line of the major axis.
Religion’s kinda like that. You don’t have to believe in the artillery round: you didn’t see it. But you’d better believe in the impact crater. It has something to tell us, that crater. At some point, a group of people were willing to die for what they believed. Dispense with God if you like, that’s a perfectly reasonable position. But you won’t evict the myths from the human heart. Our identity depends on them.
I like the segue to myths. Indeed, very powerful things — great impact craters. Personal embarrassing story revealed to the public for the first time. At the age of 11 or so, I started collecting all sorts of metal junk — bolts, washers, anything mechanical — because I simply had to build a spaceship and get to Barsoom. Man, for a few weeks there I was a fanatic. That’s o.k., I was 11. I would absolutely love to believe in Arthur and Quatermain and the Scarecrow. But that fervent desire is a bit dangerous and perhaps a little deceiving, no? At least worth keeping an eye on.
While the deity has no charm for me, I certainly use certain concepts to my benefit. Personally, I like the notion of karma. Do I think there is a cosmic score keeper? Nah. But I like to measure my acts by the “what goes around, comes around” gauge. Truth? No. Valuable? Absolutely, at least to me.
Maybe it was King Arthur and Barsoom that headed me toward atheism. I became very aware early on of the massive, personal effects these things could have and that a person is well-advised to pay attention to those impact craters. Plenty of them around. For me at least, they all have a cause that is more centered in the human heart than in anything uber-natural.
You like personal history stories — here’s another. At the absolute lowest points of Marine Corps boot camp, when all hope was gone, my recently deceased father, a man of great will and strength, would show up and help me over the hump. I could see him; feel his presence. Do I believe in ghosts? No. As real as he seemed, he wasn’t there. He was dead. And dead is dead. But there is a big piece of him imprinted on my psyche and that came out when I needed it. In a way, I like that notion better than the notion that his actual spirit is floating around, watching me screw up again and again. I like knowing that his love and strength filled me in a way that nothing supernatural ever could. My father, the myth. I’m fine with that.
Yeah. We have to learn to be kinder to each other, believers and atheists. Probably ought to start with the believers being kinder: the atheists only reject the stupider aspects of religion.
It’s true that atheists and theists both have faith — for sufficient definition of “faith”. Yes, all humans rely on faith in situations like romance, an endeavor that defies all scientific and logical analysis. Faith is as likely to get you to the correct answer as any other means.
The core of disagreement between atheists and theists is the question, “*When* is faith a valid method of deciding what’s true?” Atheists say faith should only be relied upon when you *must* make a decision and when no better tool is available to establish the facts. (Romance meets these criteria.)
Theists seem to believe faith is applicable beyond these limits. They use faith when there is a better way to establish truth (e.g. relying on faith healing instead of modern medicine, or refusing to allow their children to study evolution). And they use it when there’s not even a need to make a decision ( e.g., supporting legislation that punishes homosexuals, when there’s no scientific reason to do so and “freedom to pursue happiness” is a fundamental American belief.)
So the basic disagreement between atheists and theists is simply the realm in which a person should be respected for relying on faith, versus being chastised for using faith inappropriately. Responsible theists draw that point somewhere between “Deciding what church to attend on Sundays” and “Deciding whether to take your seriously ill child to a doctor.” Atheists think society would work better if those boundaries are tightened considerably.
Faith must yield to reason. This is an element of my faith. G-d did not make the sun stand still. Adrenaline… making the sun SEEM to stand still — that’s fair game.
Kimmi wrote: “Faith must yield to reason. This is an element of my faith. ”
I disagree. That faith must yield to reason is a conclusion reached through *reason*. It derives from the observation that reason is far more successful than faith in determining truth. Hence, good courts settle matters based on reason, not faith. (The few countries where the courts *do* rule by faith are considered to be violating basic human rights with their capriciousness.)
I think you mistake me, and perhaps a bit of cognitive science when you treat them as a duality. they most certainly are not.