Defending Atheism?

Julian Baggini is certainly right that being an atheist does not necessarily mean being an associate of the holocaust. Still, in order to defend atheism from the accusation of having been the cause of mass murders in the 20th century, Baggini seems to go very far:

[R]eligion is by nature not only divisive, but divisive in a way which elevates some people above others. It is not too fancicul, I think, to see how the centuries of religious tradition in Western society made possible the kind of distinction between the superior Aryans and the inferior others which Nazism required. (Baggini, Atheism, 2003, p. 86)

If Baggini is right, any thought implying distinctions (such as Plato’s utopian Republic) would lead to this kind of effect. And supporters of Christianity could claim that they were the ones who said that we are all children of God… Again, I am led to think that putting the history of atheism in a wider context, e.g., taking India and China into the picture would help enhancing the debate.

6 ys post doc position in intercultural philosophy (Vienna)

I apologise for the late posting and hope it might be interesting for some readers.

University Assistant (post doc)
at the Department of Philosophy

Reference number: 8994

The advertised position is located at the Department of Philosophy which is part of the Faculty of Philosophy and Education. The Department of Philosophy at the University of Vienna is large in international comparison and its members are active within a considerable variety of research areas. The department furthermore offers a range of courses reflecting the breadth of the fields of philosophy while upholding the highest standards within each specialized subject area. Special focus is placed on gaining insight and developing competences in order to contribute to the discussion of current philosophical problems. This intention to acknowledge new philosophical developments and tasks is reflected in a number of co-operations and research fields of the department.

Maṇḍana on fixed sacrifices

The eight century philosopher Maṇḍana tried to streamline the distinction among various types of sacrifices he inherited from the Mīmāṃsā school. The Mīmāṃsā distinguishes between:

  • fixed sacrifices one has to perform throughout one’s life
  • occasional sacrifices one performs when the occasion arises (e.g., the birth of a son)
  • elective sacrifices one performs in order to obtain a coveted result

It is also noteworthy that the auxiliary acts of fixed and occasional sacrifices can be performed “as much as one can”, whereas auxiliaries of elective sacrifices need to be performed exactly as prescribed.
The motivator of the former two groups seems to be the fact that the Veda prescribes them, whereas the motivator of the latter group seems to be the fact that one desires their result. But this is weird, given that they are enjoined by prescriptions which have a comparable form. Maṇḍana tried to find a way to have the same motivator for all. This is how he develops his argument:

  1. Prima facie view: The motivator can only be the fact that one desires a given result. In the case of fixed sacrifices, the result needs to be something one desires fixedly, like happiness.
  2. This hypothesis does not stand to reason, because the following three aspects of fixed sacrifices remain irreconcilable, namely their being fixed, their having a result and the fact that their auxiliaries needs only to be performed as much as possible. In fact, if they need to have a result, they cannot be fixed, since one would cease performing them as soon as one’s desire for them were appeased.
  3. Hence, the desire for the result can be the motivator for the actively undertaking of sacrifices, whereas the fear for a sanction needs to be the motivator for the not-ceasing to perform them.
  4. Final view: No, the above contradiction can be avoided because the fixedness is not just something one arrives at pragmatically, due to the fact that one happens to desire happiness all the time. Rather, their fixedness is prescribed in the Veda, hence it is surely not the case that it ceases. Consequently, one just needs to correctly identify a desire which never ceases, and this is the desire to eliminate accumulated bad karman. People who are currently suffering will be keen in eliminating bad karman in order to eliminate the cause of their sufferings. And people who want to achieve new goals will also want to eliminate bad karman, since they know that this could hinder them.
  5. Thus, it is true that all sacrifices are motivated by desire. The desire motivating fixed sacrifices never ceases and needs to be identified as the destruction of bad karman, because its fixed nature is itself prescribed by the Veda.

As often the case, the pars destruens is almost more interesting than the pars construens.

What is the target of Kumārila’s atheist arguments?

Kumārila’s attacks certainly target the belief in supernatural beings who should be able to grant boons to human beings (the devatās), insofar as they show that this belief is inherently self-contradictory. For instance, these deities should be the actual recipients of ritual offerings. However, how could they receive offerings at the same time from different sacrificers in different places?

Kumārila also targets the belief in a Lord akin to the one defended by rational theology, both in Europe and in South Asia, again because this leads to contradictions. Kumārila explains that there is no need of such a Lord in order to explain the creation of the world, since there is no need to adduce further evidence in order to justify the world as it is now (i.e., existing), whereas one would need to adduce a strong external evidence to justify everything contradicting the world as we know it. Therefore, the continuous presence of the world becomes the default status and the theist has the burden of the proof and needs to be able to establish independently of his religious belief that there has been a time when the world did not exist. Similarly, Kumārila shows that the idea of a Lord who is at the same time all-mighty and benevolent is self-contradictory, since if the Lord where really all-might, he would avoid evil, and if he tolerates it, then he is cruel. If one says that evil is due to karman or other causes, Kumārila continues, then this shows that there is no need to add the Lord at all as a further cause and that everything can be explained just on the basis of karman or any other cause.

Are Kumārila’s criticisms also targeted at the idea of an impersonal and non-dual brahman? Kumārila does not explicitly address the issue of the possible distinction between one and the other target. However, a few scant hints may help readers. In a fragment from his lost Bṛhaṭṭīkā preserved in the work of a Buddhist opponent (the Tattvasaṅgraha), Kumārila speaks of deities as being vedadeha, i.e., ‘embodied in the Veda’ (so Yoshimizu 2008, fn. 78). In a verse of the TV, he says that they are ṛgvedādisamūheṣu […] pratiṣṭhitāḥ, i.e., ‘who reside in the Ṛgveda and all other [Vedic scriptures]’ (Yoshimizu 2007b, p. 221). Does this mean that Kumārila was accepting a conception of deities inhabiting the Vedas? I discussed the idea with a colleague who just said that the verses must be interpolated.

What do readers think? Was there local atheism in ancient India?

See also Yoshimizu’s comment to my post on Bhavanātha.

On the philosophy of faith

A PhD student wrote me asking: “Being a student of theology, from the philosophical background, I have understood the role of reason in theology. But I cannot assimilate the place of faith in philosophy.”

I would answer quoting Anselm of Canterbury, who stated “credo ut intelligam, intelligo ut credam”, namely “I believe in order to understand, I understand in order to believe”. The latter part corresponds to what the students labelled as the role of reason in theology, namely the need to continue improving one’s understanding of theological truths in order to deepen one’s faith in them. The first part is an answer to the student’s query about the role of faith.
In other words, unless one had faith in, say, the real presence of Śrī Viṣṇu in a given idol, one would not start elaborating a theory about the arcāvatāra. In a Catholic milieu, one might think at Antoine Arnauld’s discussion of the signification of demonstrative pronouns inspired by his faith in the transubstantiation during the Mess (in his L’Art de penser).

Long story short:
1. Faith, I think, can motivate one to look at a topic one would have not thought of.
2. Moreover, it can help one overcome one’s initial disbelief and think more thoroughly about a topic.

This should not be confused, however, with the case of stiffening in a position without accepting to discuss counter-positions. Faith can promote philosophy if it is so self-confident to be able to lead to an open-minded intellectual journey.

What do readers think? Can faith help philosophical enterprises?

[T]he last few years have witnessed widespread interest in debates around atheism well beyond the boundaries of the academy. […] [M]any of these debates seem to be trapped within a particular mental world-view that is a product of Enlightenment modernity. The assumptions and history of this world-view are rarely questioned or even acknowledged, with the result that the world-view itself comes to appear as a timeless given rather than as an historical product. Participants in the debate may thus be forced into positions and faced with alternatives that are dictated by this world-view, and deprived of the opportunity of exploring alternative approaches and ways of thinking.

Gavin Hyman
A Short History of Atheism (London: I.B. Tauris, 2010), IX-X

The ultimate level of interpretation

Suppose you are a devout Christian and you think that the Bible has been inspired by God. Would this mean that you cannot discuss the historical layers of the Bible? Or would you continue to investigate them, thinking of them as the way in which God assumed a historical form and communicated with human beings? In other words, does not faith regard only the ultimate level, leaving all the others unchanged?

Teaching ethics to a machine? You need some casuistic reasoning

Marcus Arvan convincingly argues in this article that while programming AI you can produce psychopathic behaviours both if you decide not to teach any moral target AND if you decide to teach moral targets.
Instead, you need to teach your machine some flexibility. Thus, I would argue, moral reasoning used for machines needs to be adjusted through a large set of cases and through rules dealing with specific cases. Can the Mīmāṃsā case-based application of rules help in such cases?

There was a thing in the emperor [Akbar] that rebelled against all this flummery, for was it not a kind of infantilization of the self to give up one’s power of agency and believe that such power resided outside oneself rather than within? This was also his objection to God, that his existence deprived human beings of the right to form ethical structures by themselves.

Salman Rushdie
The Enchantress of Florence (London: Vintage Books, 2009), 402