Sunday, 3 December 2023

God and Mr Fry


Thank God for Stephen Fry. Actually, let’s leave God out of it. It’s Stephen Fry himself I want to thank. When I despair at the human race, often it’s the example of his wisdom, humour and intelligence that gives me hope. If I were Galactus, he’d be the main reason I decided not to eat your planet. In this interview with Gay Byrne on RTÉ One, Mr Fry is on brilliant and blistering form. He adduces his reasons for believing that, if God exists, He is ‘monstrous, evil, capricious, mean-minded, and stupid’.

Let’s start with ‘if God exists’. On one level, all gods are real. I’m arm in arm with Alan Moore when he says he believes in fairies. Odin and Thor have always felt more real to me than the Biblical deities, though. Probably that kind of preference has nothing to do with the universe and everything to do with how our childhood selves related to our parents – although even that implies religion is a free choice, which can hardly be true when so many are indoctrinated into their family’s beliefs from the time they can speak.

In any case, that category of belief is not what we’re considering here. I’m not talking about a God as real as Humbert Humbert or Lizzie Bennet or Mr Toad. It’s that other reality we’re discussing now, the one that can stub your toe or launch a rocket to the Moon. Most people are uncouth in their beliefs. Their minds aren’t comfortable with the abstract. Not content with God being as real as love, truth, beauty, they want Him to be real in the way that wellington boots and wisdom teeth are real. So that’s the God we’ll talk about.

How did it all come into being? We can evoke the idea of a mind hanging in the nothingness – but minds are complex things, much more complex than suns and planets. Some metaquantum aberration, a blip inside which a quindecillion tonnes of superstring unfolded, is easier to grasp as the primum mobile and considerably more likely. But hang on there. Occam’s Razor is a guide, not a rule. I can’t be certain that atheism is more reasonable than deism, and so I simply say that I’m an agnostic.

We agreed to let God into this Gedankenexperiment. Okay, so where and why did He come into the picture? Supposedly He was needed originally to answer the question of why we are here at all. Declaring that everything exists because of God is no explanation, mind you. It just sweeps the question under the carpet of what is not known. However, this 28 billion parsec-sized parcel of spacetime – and indeed spacetime itself – may only be part of a much larger or even infinite reality, possibly with one or more cosmic intelligences in the strata from which our local reality arose. For all that I doubt it, I can’t prove our universe wasn’t created by an intelligent designer. For the sake of argument, we’re saying it was. What then can we deduce about the creator from His creation?

The God that spoke to Moses and Muhammad appears to have shared the moral code, social priorities, and knowledge of the physical world that Moses and Muhammad themselves had. But that’s not the God we’re trying to intuit from the universe around us. It’s more than far-fetched to imagine that our God would take a personal interest in one small group of people at one time in history, and then couch whatever user’s manual points He deemed important in the form of legalistic rules communicated via the local power hierarchy. Anything He has to say, He could tell all mankind unequivocally by writing it on the Moon in a metalanguage. ‘Angels spoke to me,’ is no reason to take anybody’s word for anything, whether it happened yesterday or two thousand years ago. If that’s the kind of God you’re willing to conceive of, there’s no good reason not to choose the God of the Aztecs or of the Mesopotamians. One billion people can be wrong – or right; their numbers and their conviction make no difference.

So put that aside. Suppose you had never heard any theories of God, and were just starting to look around and figure out what He might be like. For a start, if you were God, you wouldn’t build a thing like the universe in the way you would a wristwatch. You’d specify laws, the way a game designer does. You’d say the electron is a class with these attributes. Then you’d start it going: ‘Let there be plasma’ – not light, that took another 400,000 years – and you’d see what kind of a universe emerged from your rules. Maybe you’d hope for life, maybe you’d observe it as a happy accident. Or maybe life wasn’t what interested you in the first place.

Wait. Didn’t God already know everything that was to come? As an omnipotent being, He could run the entire simulation in his mind. But we don’t know that our God is omnipotent, only that He is (or was) capable of initiating the beginning of the universe and possibly setting or tweaking the laws that govern it. And a perfect simulation is indistinguishable from reality in any case. So here it is, finally, 13.8 billion years later: the thin film of water and air around a ball of rock that interests us.

Now, it’s a mistake to see all this from the top down. (That is if we insist on putting ourselves arbitrarily at ‘the top’.) We cannot make the universe in our image, we have to see it as it is – not a place of dietary and marriage rules, of ethics and prohibitions and cruel medieval punishments, but a place of simple physical processes, working away on a level more primitive than ants. The God we’re reading from the things He made seems more concerned with weevils than with evil, and quite right too. Evil is a human construct, and a clumsy one at that. How could an entity that doesn’t live in our social world even have an opinion on human morality – any more than we conceive of morality among the sparrows?

So if we start with the God of the Big Bang rather than the God of the Good Book, I can’t agree with Stephen Fry that He is monstrous and mean-minded. Ebola and earthquakes are just the way the universe is. I don’t think we could honestly expect a real creator of worlds to trouble Himself about whether one species burrows into the eyes of another species. In fact, if you take our human partiality out of the equation, it’s kind of cool. You can imagine Him thinking, ‘I set this in motion, but the emergent effects are awesome.’

Of course, Mr Fry is not answering Mr Byrne’s question from a deist perspective. He is addressing the question of what we should make of the world if the God of the Old Testament is in charge of it. This is a God we are told is concerned about human life – as well as being very bothered about what we eat, what we wear, and who we have sex with. Quite obviously such a God, if He were any more credible than a Dungeons and Dragons monster, would indeed be unworthy of respect. Fortunately mankind has had teachers like Jesus and Buddha to ameliorate primitive religious doctrine with a kinder message. But honestly, if you were properly brought up, you don’t need them to tell you anything. Our opinion about whether the universe has a creator or not has nothing to do with morality, just as the laws the police enforce have nothing to do with why I don’t commit robbery and murder.

So, like Fry, I’d reject that strict and jealous God’s offer of paradise because it would not be any paradise I’d want to live in. His bribe of an afterlife, if it were anything but an infantile dream, is deserving of mere contempt. The power to create and destroy gives no man or deity the right to enforce an ethical code. That you can only find in your own heart.

17 comments:

  1. In response to the recent statement by an evil intergalactic warlord: " I am God" I offer the: "I am God, Get over it" challenge: Redesign the world according to the principles of Health & Safety and you get a Disney theme park; redesign the world as a power challenge and you get Game of Thrones or House of Cards; redesign the world as a self-directed interactive Multichoice Multiplayer Multilevel Gaming exercise with an individually self-determined purpose and the only common parameter being the ultimate outcome as Death on a continuum from "peaceful" to "drawn-out, agonizing" and you get the Earth as we know it - welcome to my world. Now redesign it.

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    1. OK... Well, seeing the universe as a game, I think it shows signs of being well playtested at the early levels. Intelligent hunter-gatherers can exploit evolution to breed crops, develop the wheel and the plough, discover crop rotation and so on - right up to steam engines, internal combustion, and even rocketry.

      Then the universe suddenly gets a lot more difficult. The learning curve of fusion and even interplanetary travel is so steep that it's like the developers lost interest in the game. Or maybe they just figured that apes with nuclear weapons would wipe themselves out long before colonies on Mars became an issue.

      But then, human beings are the big disappointment in a universe that otherwise is a more-or-less elegant expression of mathematically clean laws. If there's a God, He probably regards life the way I regard dust on the ventilation grille of my PC.

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  2. Michael Polling9 March 2015 at 09:50

    I think the first problem in talking about god is: what do we mean we say “god”?

    What is god’s name? Zeus? Ahriman? YHWH? Yahweh? Christ, insofar as he is not identical with Yahweh? Allah? Ishwara? This might seem like a trivial question (it does to me) but more people have been killed over that point than over the apparently more fundamental question of whether or not there is a god at all.

    What is the colour of god’s skin? Brown, white, blue? Again that seems trivial, but there’s no real doubt that Western Europeans (and Western-European-descended Americans) took a Middle-Eastern god and gave him white skin, long white hair and a white beard, and made his son a blue-eyed blond.

    There are a thousand other questions like this (what language does he speak, for example?), but none of them appear to have a rational answer.

    Is god male or female? Traditionally he’s male, and certainly the masculine pronoun is usually used in connection with “him”. I’d hazard that most believers - male and female alike - think of god as male. But again there doesn’t seem to be a good reason for believing that he’s male or female.

    But many believers will have a problem with this, because it goes to a deeper point: is god personal? Not in the Johnny Cash sense of your own personal Jesus, but: is god a person? For a lot of people this is an important point. The Bible tells us that god made man (or humans, depending on your interpretation) in his own image, and many other religions emphasise the personal aspect of god. But if god is personal, what kind of person is he? Male or female? … and so on. On the other hand, why should he be a human (or human-like) at all? Again there doesn’t seem to be a rational answer to this - believers will usually resort to whatever their holy books tell them. But for anyone engaged in a rational quest for god the issue again has to be dismissed as one lacking both objective evidence and rational grounds for taking any particular position.

    If we do dismiss it, we’re left with an impersonal god, one who is neither male nor female, neither human nor non-human - a god who has become too abstract for many believers to follow.

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    1. Agreed. If God exists then I can't see any reason to "follow" him. That's what we do to political leaders, not forces of nature, surely?

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  3. Michael Polling9 March 2015 at 09:51

    Let’s turn to god’s more important non-physical attributes. The ‘concept’ of god generally involves a number of key attributes. He’s the creator (and perhaps sustainer) of the world; he’s everlasting; he exists outside time; he’s omnipotent; he’s omnipresent; he’s omniscient; he’s good; he determines everything that has happened, is happening and will happen in the world, as well as what happens when you die; he listens to you and understands you, and may (if so inclined) respond to your petitions; he determines what is right and what is wrong; and for some (but by no means all) believers you have to add that he’s given us the ability to choose how to act. So if you say you believe in god, you’re expected to subscribe to the whole package of attributes, and if you’re undertaking a rational investigation into the nature and existence of god, you’re expected to take the whole shebang simultaneously.

    But clearly that doesn’t make any sense. If you believe that the world was brought into existence by a creator, how does that entail that the creator is good or wise or benevolent? You may indeed believe those things, but they do not follow from his being a creator, any more than creation follows logically from sapience or benevolence. So the various attributes predicated of god have to be separated out, and they must each have their own reasons if one is to accept them on rational grounds. So you could (in principle) have an ignorant, evil creator, as many Gnostics believed, or one whose existence ceased in the moment of creation, for example. There may be rational grounds for believing some or any of these things but not for all of them.

    More fundamentally, to what extent can the terms within which we are capable of understanding things be applied to god? Dave queried whether human concepts of morality could have any applicability to a divine being. Similarly, we can ask how human conceptions of knowledge, power, presence can be applied to such a being.

    Even more fundamentally, is the notion of ‘being’ even applicable to god? What we mean by ‘being’ is something that in some sense has some kind of existence in the world - i.e. the world of spacetime. But is that relevant to god, who is often thought of as both omnipresent and outside the world of the space and time? Perhaps the human notions traditionally predicated of god are really only applicable to humans. If we are to conceive of god, perhaps we should do so - as Heidegger suggested, and using Derrida’s term, “sous rature” i.e. crossed out - neither being or non-being, but “being”. Or as Jean-Luc Marion puts it, as “god without being”.

    Having dehumanised and depersonalised god, and dissociated from him the various attributes conventionally predicated of him, what are we left with? A pure, empty abstraction? Something essentially inconceivable and unknowable?

    One predicate of god that I haven’t mentioned is infinity. Not the infinities of the mathematicians, which is essentially about unlimited counting (even the uncountable infinities are still thought of in terms of counting), but infinity as properly conceived - that which is without limits of any kind. Because in the end, when we are contemplating the idea of god, we are confronting our finitude, the finiteness of our little universe of space and time, with the idea of the infinite. In which case, infinity is not a predicate of god - it’s another way of saying “god”.

    It’s perhaps for this reason that the Christian myth of the incarnation is important. If god is incarnated as a human and lives a human life, that humanises and makes personal something essentially inhuman and impersonal. It creates a link between the human, the finite, and the inhuman, the infinite - “the point of intersection of the timeless with time”.

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    1. I don't know about God, but Eliot is certainly unknowable. I mean in a good way. I'm far more interested in the God that *is* love, beauty, & wonder rather than the (frankly rather trite) God who created those things.

      Here's Nancy Ellen Abrams in Salon arguing that we need a religion of wonder:

      http://www.salon.com/2015/03/07/my_atheist_search_for_god_were_debating_science_and_religion_all_wrong/

      But I think: why do we need a religion for all that. The sense of wonder she's talking about - a physicist sees that in everything. In the distribution of leaves around a plant, in the shape of pine needles, in the structure of galaxies. Leave religion out of it, I say.

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    2. Btw here's an interesting snippet I came across this week. Andrew Neil is trying to get Asim Qureshi to say whether he agrees that homesexuals are evil and women who commit adultery should be stoned. Qureshi avoids answering by saying "I'm not a theologian."

      https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=youtu.be&v=afdeFuJbK3E&app=desktop

      So what has not being a theologian got to do with moral choices? The argument as presented to me on Twitter is that if Qureshi says anything against the teaching of the Quran (the book regarded as holy by Muslims) then that would make him an apostate. But he needs a theologian to tell him whether those things Neil has cited are actually the rules given in the Quran or not.

      The extraordinary thing is that Qureshi is perfectly willing to deny any personal responsibility for moral choice. If he believes "God told me to do it" then he's off the hook. Now I think that if God exists and He manifests right in front of me and tells me to stone somebody to death, I'm going to tell Him to get stuffed. But it's interesting that there are people out there who, 70 years after the liberation of the concentration camps, still dance to the doctrine of following orders.

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  4. Michael Polling9 March 2015 at 09:52

    This is already much too long, and I’ve barely even begun to scratch the surface, so I’m going to have to resort to some bare assertions. Do I think there are rational grounds for believing in a creator? Yes. I think if you confine the Cosmological Argument to whether or not there is a creator, and don’t then try to shoehorn in all the other divine attributes as well, it’s inescapable - and indeed a common attitude among contemporary philosophers is: Logically the Cosmological Argument must be correct, but we believe that there is no god, so logic must be broken somewhere. Are there any rational grounds on which we can say anything about god other than that it created the world? Not on the basis of the Cosmological Argument.

    What about the Fryvian arguments about the necessary monstrosity of a creator who created a world like this? Well, I think that some of those arguments are about imposing human values on something we picture as essentially an all-powerful human being, but is neither human nor being.

    But I think there are a couple of other things that might be said, although I’m a long way from being able to provide a rational justification for them. One is that if one of the essential attributes of the world is that the intelligent consciousnesses that arise in it should be free to make their own moral choices, that entails no divine interference: the world is as the world is, and that is the context within which we make our free moral decisions. Fry’s suggestion is that if there is a god then the world must intentionally have been created to contain the evils he describes (and countless others), which implies that it would have been possible to create a world in which such moral choices are possible but which does not contain such evils - or even simply that it would have been possible to create the world differently. Leibniz’s assertion that this is the best of all possible worlds, which was so mercilessly satirised by Voltaire in the character of Pangloss, is not based on some starry-eyed optimism but on the idea that as the world was created by god it must be that nothing better is possible. Perhaps the problem we have with this is the conventional attribute of ‘omnipotence’ - if god is genuinely omnipotent, then clearly he must have been able to create a world that is better than this one. But maybe, again, that’s applying human notions of what must be possible for an omnipotent being - and what “good” is - which may simply have no application.

    The other thing goes back to Dave’s final point, that an ethical code is something you can only find in your own heart - like the moral outrage expressed by Fry. But where does it come from? Why does it exist in our hearts? How is that we have a sense of what is right and wrong, and that is something that is common to all humanity across all cultures and throughout history? I used to think that morality was entirely ‘local’, in the sense that it was related to (although not exclusively determined by) the values and beliefs of the culture that you find yourself in, and that it would therefore vary hugely across time and culture. But although there clearly are significant differences, I’ve come to realise that there is also a certain fundamental moral sense that doesn’t change; you could say that the moral sense is constant but the way it’s applied is the culturally dependent variable. It is, I think, very close to or identical with love.


    We all have internal dialogues with ourselves, all the time. Maybe whenever I’m thinking about a moral point the voice of my conscience, the voice of love - which is always, of course, my own internal voice - is also, speaking from infinity to the finite and across the unbridgeable divide between the knowable and the unknowable, the voice of god.

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    1. Touching on the Cosmological Argument first: I'm not convinced the universe (the whole universe, that is) had a beginning. The Astronomer Royal would agree with me, for whatever that's worth. It looks highly likely that our local bit of the universe experienced a Big Bang, which may or may not have been the point of creation for all this stuff that isn't just gravitational. Did that moment have a cause? I don't think we know enough to say - logic isn't going to be much help, given our berry-gathering ape brains.

      If there was a cause, I guess we could call that "god" but that's rather an over-freighted term for something we can say nothing more about. If the first cause we're postulating is of any use at all, we can at least say it ought to be simpler than the thing it caused, otherwise it's not helping us out at all. For instance, say the whole universe began with a human brain (bear with me here). That's a structure that's actually more complex than the cosmological structure all around us, so such an explanation doesn't just sweep the problem under the carpet, as I put it - it's a lump so big that it makes the carpet higher than the ceiling of the room.

      So: first causes, logic, even whether there was a beginning (local to this universe or throughout infinity) are all probably things of which we cannot speak. Though I am pretty sure that if there was a process that could be said to have initiated the Big Bang, it was something a lot, lot simpler than a mind.

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    2. Now, morality. Where does that come from? Nature and nurture. We know that a number of genes strongly selected for in human evolution seem to code for brain structures that favour socialization - if that isn't too many hums and haws for a decent discussion, lol. And right back to the year dot, parents have been instilling moral imperatives in their offspring in order to increase their fitness for the herd (yep, horses do it) or tribe (us two-legged mammals). Most people's ideas of morality just come from that. So I don't get agitated and want to kill somebody if they say something that offends me, but the guy whose dad whacked him with a slipper left him with a neurotic idea of a jealous, angry god for whom morality = punishment.

      Religious people say to me, "Oh, then you must have no absolute morality at all." They're just idiots. I do of course have an absolute morality, I just acknowledge that it isn't written into the universe the way gravity is. It's inside me.

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    3. Btw not to devalue the cultural component of nurture there. Unlike most animals, we develop memes that survive into later generations. Humanism could be described as a kind of secular Christianity, which I guess could be interpreted as Aristotelean ethics with a prophet, and so on. Maybe there's even a Proto-Nostratic Confucius back there somewhere, but he was just saying what we already know it takes to live as an ape that favours communities of 500+ individuals.

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  5. This 1937 article by CM Joad is rather long to post as a comment, but I find it interesting. Though I follow Mr Fry's line, of course:

    http://archive.spectator.co.uk/article/1st-january-1937/15/is-it-after-all-a-machine-

    'What is it that makes the wheels of evolution go round? There are, broadly speaking, two answers and only two. The first is the so-called mechanistic answer. Variations in species occur by chance; some of these are adapted to their environment, and confer an advantage, therefore, over competitors in the struggle for existence. Others are disadvantageous. Creatures varying in the first direction survive and prosper. The variation in virtue of which they survive and prosper is handed on to their descendants, and becomes more marked from generation to generation, until ultimately a new species is established. Thus the characteristics and habits of living creatures, as we see them today, are the result of chance variations which have survived and become stamped into the life history of the species because they happen to have been adapted to their environment.

    'The process of evolution is thus conceived after the model of the workings of a gigantic clock. Somebody, at some time or other, wound the clock up— nobody, after all, has been able to tell how the affair started—and thereafter, given the variations, it proceeds to function indefinitely through the automatic interaction of its parts. And the process is without design, plan or purpose. It just happens. Human life is part of it, and when the conditions to which the variation which is the human species is adapted no longer obtain, humanity will vanish.

    'To this, the classical conception of evolution which is still, I imagine, the working creed of the average biologist, there were from the first a number of objections. To begin with, it totally failed to account for the occurrence of the raw material of evolution, the variations. Once they appeared, everything went merrily enough. But how, if you disown the conception of purpose and plan, are you to account for their appearance at all? To say that they appear by chance is simply to say that you do not know how they appear. A machine, after all, does not suddenly exfoliate a “varying crank,” or a new nut.

    'Secondly, it may be asked why evolution so conceived did not stop. So far as physical adaptation is concerned, and it is only of physical adaptation that on this hypothesis we are entitled to speak, it was achieved millions of years ago by creatures so much better “adapted” than ourselves, that it seems impossible to understand why they should ever have been superseded.'

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    1. It must have been hard back in 1937 to conceive of how few steps are needed in an evolutionary process to actually deliver significant "design" improvement. Now we can run genetic algorithms on a computer and the results are startling, but back in the 1930s it took imagination and a good instinct for maths to see that. All the more remarkable, then, that Darwin could see it a full 100 years before even quite basic computer models.

      Harder still for people of Joad's time to grasp that apparently complex behaviours can result from simple rule sets. (Hard anyway for a genial old buffer like Joad!) It reminded me of a bishop who Richard Dawkins quoted in The Blind Watchmaker:

      "As for camouflage, this is not always easily explicable on neo-Darwinian premises. If polar bears are dominant in the Arctic, then there would seem to have been no need for them to evolve a white-coloured form of camouflage."

      Which Dr Dawkins translated thus:

      "I personally, off the top of my head sitting in my study, never having visited the Arctic, never having seen a polar bear in the wild, and having been educated in classical literature and theology, have not so far managed to think of a reason why polar bears might benefit from being white."

      To address two of Joad's points. First "[evolution] totally failed to account for the occurrence of the raw material of evolution, the variations."

      Even in 1937, Joad could have picked up a book about genetics and mutation. Or a biology don at Birkbeck could have tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Sexual selection mixes genes; mutation alters them."

      He goes on to say: 'Secondly, it may be asked why evolution so conceived did not stop." Because environments don't stop changing, because populations become separate, because even in a stable environment there is an arms race between predator and prey. Really, Joad could have read all that in Darwin.

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    2. One thing I should add to the above: evolution doesn't tell us anything about God's existence because evolution is how both a random universe and an intelligent God would organize life. If life actually changed according to the micromanagement of a conscious designer, that's a terrible way to organize things and would be proof that God was actually stupider than we are. Which is also a valid hypothesis if you accept the possibility of God's existence, of course.

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  6. Morality: I think morality’s a more complex and difficult matter than the “nature and nurture” argument.

    Do animals possess morality? When we observe animal behaviour we can’t help ascribing human values to it. But in my view animals have no morality at all; behaviour that we might describe as “love” or “loyalty” or “selfishness” is nothing of the kind - it’s simply the expression of evolutionarily-developed patterns of behaviour (where the way in which such behaviour is expressed is to a greater or lesser extent shaped by nurture), in respect of which such language is simply meaningless. Animal behaviour is determined by nature and nurture.

    But we’re fundamentally different. I realise that we’re animals, and that like animals we have instincts, evolutionarily ingrained patterns of behaviour, just as other animals do, and I’m well aware of the view that our individual values are formed by society and culture. But the thing that makes the fundamental difference is that we are intelligent, and that our intelligence allows us to make choices, and to think and act against our instinctive and cultural conditioning - not least by enabling us to become aware of it. Those who insist on the deterministic nature of human existence are simply overlooking the effect of the fact that we can think. Marx, for example, proclaimed that all our values are the product of society - “it is not Man’s consciousness that determines his social being but, on the contrary, it is his social being that determines his consciousness” - but the wave of socialist revolutions that swept the world in his wake were profoundly influenced by, and to an extent even caused by, his thought. I cite Marx only as an obvious and easy example of deterministic thinking (I don’t think he was actually as deterministic as slogans like that suggest), but (mutatis mutandis) the same sort of approach characterises all deterministic thinking.

    It’s a view I profoundly disagree with, because I think we have free will. Can I prove it? Of course not, any more than the proponents of deterministic views can prove their point, but I think there’s a vast amount of evidence for it in our everyday experiences. We are continuously thinking about what we do and say, and we are constantly deciding what to do and modifying our behaviour on the basis not only of our own past experience but also of what others say. Of course one can argue that this is all illusory, and that the fact that I have the experience of deciding on a particular action is irrelevant and masks the reality that I have no such choice and that my action is entirely predetermined; and of course it’s impossible to prove that that’s not the case. But as I said, it’s also not possible to prove that it is the case - at least, despite heroic efforts, no progress has been made in doing that - and as the determinists are arguing for a counter-intuitive and counter-empirical position, the onus is on them to prove their case. It seems to me that even the arguments that free-will is illusory are themselves an expression of free will: in any event, it’s difficult to see how producing such an argument, and spending time and effort defending it, can be predetermined behaviour.

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  7. Our world is entirely different from the world animals live in. For animals the world is just the way things are - it’s not something that they can control or change or even really affect. The very notions of “control” or “change” - even “world” - are not capable of existing in their world. Things are, and things happen, and they react to things in the ways that nature makes them react. Because they have no ability to think their world they have no choice about their actions, and therefore no conception of right and wrong. The profound difference between us and the animals is that we can think and decide how we’re going to act, and we understand the notions of right and wrong. And whilst the evolutionary argument for “encoded” behaviours is strong, as is the evolutionary argument for the development of intelligence, I think the jump to assuming that that is sufficient to ground an evolutionary argument for the development of morality is a leap too far.

    One problem is that it is difficult to make out an evolutionary justification for morality rather than for instinctive behaviour, or - even without purely determined behaviour-patterns - for an absence of morality. Why do we need it? Why isn’t it the case that might is purely and simply “right”? Another problem is that the introduction of self-conscious intelligence queers the pitch: when people can think about what they’re doing and make conscious choices, the scope for behaviour to be determined purely on the grounds of natural selection is increasingly limited.

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    1. I don't think we have any grounds for saying that human beings are *fundamentally* different from animals. It's a spectrum. Many animals do set objectives, formulate plans to achieve those objectives, and modify the plan as they carry them out. It's not the Large Hadron Collider, but it earns more nuts and berries.

      Nor are animals' minds merely instinct and nature. They have nurture effects too - a squirrel brought up by cats stalks and play-fights like a cat. Unfortunately we're still stuck in this Turing Test thinking about intelligence, which privileges mankind's intelligence in a way that belongs more to the era of Victorian drawing-room logic.

      Can we talk about animal morality, though? A herd animal like a horse can certainly get very huffy if it is not treated with respect. Bullies in a herd or troop of monkeys get ganged up on. I'm not saying, oh look, they have morality; I'm asking what makes us think what we have is morality? It's politics + dudgeon, maybe. There is quite a lot of work being done into how "moral" behaviour is selected for in animals (including the hairless two-legged variety) - group selection v kin selection, for example. We mustn't fall into the Joad/Montefiore mode of thinking: "There seems to be no obvious explanation" = "I haven't been able to think of one while sitting at my desk just now."

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