Believing Bullshit: How Not to Get Sucked into an Intellectual Black Hole (18 page)

The scientist demonstrates by causing one of the visitors to hallucinate an apple. There's much hilarity as the victim tries to grab for the fruit that's not there. The visitors are then invited to wander around the lab where, the scientist tells them, they may experience several other kinds of virtual fruit. Jane then comes across what appears to be an orange on a table. Now, as a matter of fact, it is a real orange—one that fell out of someone's packed lunch bag. Jane's faculty of sight is functioning normally and reliably. This is no hallucination.

Now ask yourself two questions: (1) does Jane
know
there's an orange on the table? And (2) is it
reasonable
for Jane to suppose there's an orange on the table?

Intuitively, it seems Jane
doesn't
know there's an orange present. After all, for all Jane knows, it could be one of the many hallucinatory fruit she knows about. But what would a reliabilist say? Well, sight is generally a reliable belief-producing mechanism, and sight is what's producing her belief. So some reliabilists may say that, yes, Jane does know. On the other hand, very many reliabilists say that, while in a standard environment sight is reliable,
it isn't reliable in other kinds of environment
, for example, the kind of environment in which we will often as not be deceived by visual hallucinations. But then it follows that, because Jane is in just such an environment, she doesn't know.

Now let's turn to question (2), which is the pivotal question: is it reasonable for Jane to believe there's an orange before her? Surely not. Given Jane knows that she is in an environment (the mad brain scientist's laboratory) in which people regularly have compelling fruit hallucinations (indistinguishable from real fruit experiences), Jane should remain rather skeptical about her own fruit experience. For all she can tell, she's probably having a mad-scientist-induced fruit hallucination.

I draw two morals for religious experience:

First of all, even if reliabilism is true, and even if some of us do have God experiences produced by a
sensus divinitatis
, it remains debatable whether such people
know
that God exists. If human beings are highly prone to delusional religious experiences that they nevertheless find entirely convincing, then, even if, as a matter of fact, I happen to be having a wholly accurate religious experience revealing that, say, the Judeo-Christian God exists, it's by no means clear I can be said to
know
that the Judeo-Christian God exists, anymore than Jane, coming upon a real orange in the brain scientist's lab, can be said to
know
that there's an orange on the table in front of her.

Second, and more important, even if it's true, because of my religious experience, that I
do
know that the Judeo-Christian God exists, surely it still isn't reasonable for me to take my experience at face value. For I find myself in a situation much like Jane finds herself in the brain scientist's lab. Even though it looks to Jane clearly and obviously to be true that there's an orange on the table in front of her, Jane should, surely, remain pretty skeptical about whether there's actually an orange there, given that, for all she knows, she might very easily be having one of the many delusional fruit experiences currently being generated in the lab. Jane would be foolish to take appearance at face value. Similarly, if I have good evidence that many religious experiences are delusional—even the most compelling examples—then surely I should be equally skeptical about my own religious experiences, no matter how compelling they might be. It would be foolish for me to take my experiences at face value.

A similar moral might be drawn about psychic experiences. If most—including even the most compelling examples—are delusional, then it's debatable whether the psychic can be said to
know.
However, even if the psychic can be said to know, if they're aware that many such experiences are delusional, then it surely isn't reasonable for such a person to take their experience at face value. They would be foolish to do so.

THE DUBIOUS NATURE OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE

The above argument presupposes that there is good evidence that most psychic and religious experiences are delusional—even the most compelling examples. Which of course there is. Let's focus on religious experience. We know that:

(1)
Religious experiences tend to be culturally specific.
Christians experience the guiding hand of Jesus, while Muslims experience Allah. Just like experiences of alien abduction (reports of alien abduction pretty much stop at certain national borders), the character of religious experiences often changes at national borders. In Catholic countries, the Virgin Mary is often seen, but not over the border in a predominantly Muslim country. This strongly suggests that to a significant degree, religious experiences are shaped by our cultural expectations—by the power of suggestion (see
Piling Up the Anecdotes
). And once we know that a large part of what is experienced is a result of the power of suggestion, we immediately have grounds for being somewhat suspicious about what remains.

(2)
Religious experiences often contradict each other.
George W. Bush's gut told him God wanted war with Iraq. However, the religious antenna of other believers—including other Christians—told them God wanted peace. Some religious people claim to know by virtue of a revelatory experience that Christ is divine and was resurrected. Muslims, relying instead on the religious revelations of the Prophet Muhammad, deny this. Religious experience reveals that some gods are cruel and vengeful—some even requiring the blood of children (the Mayan and Aztec gods, for example), while others are loving and kind. The religious experiences of some Buddhists reveal there's no personal God, whereas those of many Christians, Jews, and Muslims reveal that there is but one personal God. Other religions have a pantheon of gods. Take a step back and look at the sweep of human history, and you find an extraordinary range of such experiences. Religious revelation has produced a vast hodge-podge of contradictory claims, many of which
must, therefore, be false. Even those who believe they have had things directly revealed to them by God must acknowledge that a great many equally convinced people are deluded about what has supposedly been revealed to them.

There are similar reasons for supposing the bulk of psychic experiences are also delusional. What is revealed to psychics is often wrong, often contradicted by what other psychics claim, and so on.

For these reasons, then, it's not reasonable for me to take my psychic or religious experience at face value—not even if it's very vivid and convincing. It
might
be genuinely revelatory. But, under the circumstances, it would be rather foolish of me to assume that it is. Those who, like George W. Bush, place a simple trusting faith in their gut, or wherever else they think their
sensus divinitatis
is located, are being irresponsible and foolish.

Notice that it would be
particularly
foolhardy for, say, someone who believes in a maximally powerful, knowledgeable, and good God, but who is confronted with the evidential problem of evil, to sweep the problem to one side, saying, “But look, I
just know
in my heart [or gut, or wherever] that my God exists!” While it might remain a theoretical possibility that they do “just know,” it's certainly not
reasonable
for them to maintain this—not if they have been presented with both good evidence that many such experiences are delusional and powerful empirical evidence that what they believe is false. To insist one “just knows” under these circumstances is very unreasonable indeed.

THE COMMON CORE OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE—“INEFFABLE TRANSCENDENCE”?

Some will say that it is unfair to lump all religious experiences together. There is a certain kind of experience—the sort enjoyed by the mystics of many different religions down through the centuries—that is essentially the same. What is this experiential
common denominator? According to Karen Armstrong, it is an experience of “indescribable transcendence.” As we saw in “
Moving the Semantic Goalposts
,” Armstrong's view is that “God” is merely a symbol for this transcendence. Once we strip away the cultural artifacts peculiar to the different mainstream religions, we find they all have this common, experiential core.

According to Armstrong, such experiences of indescribable transcendence typically don't
just happen.
Usually, they emerge only after subjects have committed themselves over an extended period of time to a particular sort of lifestyle—a
religious
lifestyle. Religion, on Armstrong's way of thinking, is not a body of
doctrine
(how could it be, if that toward which religion is oriented is ineffable?) but an
activity
: the kind of activity that produces experiences of this sort. Religion, says Armstrong, is “a practical discipline, and its insights are not derived from abstract speculation but from spiritual exercises and a dedicated lifestyle.”
⁹
By engaging in certain religious practices and forms of life, maintains Armstrong, people can come to live “on a higher, divine or godlike plane and thus wake up their true selves.”
¹⁰

SOME NOTEWORTHY FEATURES OF RELIGIOUS PRACTICE

Suppose, then, that having immersed themselves in such a lifestyle, someone claims to “just know” that there is indeed such an ineffable transcendence? Is it reasonable for us, or for them, to suppose they've achieved awareness of Armstrong's “sacred reality”?
¹¹

I don't believe so. As Armstrong acknowledges, religious practice takes many forms involving a variety of activities. An interesting feature of many of these activities is that we know they can induce interesting—sometimes rather beneficial—psychological states, even outside of a religious setting. Let's look at some examples:

Meditation and prayer.
Consider meditation. It has proven effects on both our psychology and physiology. It can reduce stress, lower blood pressure, and induce feelings of calm and contentment. Even atheists meditate to gain these benefits. Prayer can be a form of meditation, of course. Sometimes prayer and other devotional activities are accompanied by repetitive swaying or rocking motions known to induce a sense of well-being—the so-called jogger's high (though this is not, as is widely believed, a result of releasing endorphins).

Isolation.
Isolation can have a powerful psychological effect on people. It can render them more easily psychologically manipulated (which is why isolation is a favorite tool of interrogators) and can produce hallucinations and other altered states of consciousness. Many religions encourage periods of isolation for spiritual purposes—several days in the wilderness, say.

Fasting.
Fasting, too, is known to produce some peculiar psychological states, including hallucinations, even outside of a religious setting.

Collective singing/chanting.
Coming together in a large group to chant or sing can also be a very intoxicating experience, as anyone who has gone to a football game can testify.

Architecture.
If you have ever entered a large cave by torchlight, you will know that such a setting can induce a powerful emotional experience. The darkness, echoing sounds, and glimpses of magnificent structures make one fearful and yet excited at the same time and lead us to start talking in whispers. The echoing grandeur of many places of worship has a similar psychological effect.

Giving.
Helping others in a face-to-face situation can be an immensely powerful psychological experience—often a deeply gratifying and positive experience, whether or not you happen to do it in a religious setting.

Ritual.
Engaging in ritualistic activity often has a calming and beneficial effect, whether or not performed within a religious setting. For example, sportsmen and sportswomen often engage in rituals before competing and can become very disturbed if for
some reason the ritual cannot be performed because, for example, their lucky shirt has been lost.

Religious practice typically involves at least some of, and usually many of, these activities—activities we know can have a powerful psychological effect even outside any religious setting. If people collectively engage in such activities with intensity of purpose over a long period of time, this might very well have a marked psychological effect. It might well produce some interesting, and quite possibly beneficial, psychological states.

If we then mix into this heady and intoxicating brew the suggestion that what people are experiencing or becoming psychologically attuned to as a result of long-term engagement in such a regime is some sort of ineffable transcendence, then, given the power of suggestion (see
chapter 7
on
Piling Up the Anecdotes
), many will probably become quite convinced that this is what's going on.

The experiences and insights that, as a result of the regime, then coalesce under the label “God” will no doubt be complex and difficult to articulate. There probably is a sense in which someone who has never been through such a regime will not fully appreciate what the experience is actually like for the subject “from the inside,” as it were. Those who have had such an experience will no doubt struggle to communicate to its character in the same way that someone who has been through, say, a war or childbirth may struggle. They may well have to resort to poetry or music or other art forms in order to convey the unique intensity of their experience.

Armstrong says:

It is clear that the meditation, yoga and rituals that work aesthetically on a congregation have, when practised assiduously over a lifetime, a marked effect on the personality—an effect that is another form of natural theology. There is no “born again” conversion, but a slow, incremental and imperceptible transformation…. The effect of these practices cannot give us concrete information about God; it is certainly not a scientific
“proof.” But something indefinable happens to people who involve themselves in these disciplines with commitment and talent. The “something” remains opaque, however, to those who do not undergo these disciplines.
¹²