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I had the opportunity to chat with author, fellow blogger, and my friend, Tristan Vick, about his most recent book, Ignosticism: A Philosophical Justification For Atheism. Here is our Q & A session...
Bud: What made you decide to write about this topic?
Tristan Vick: Many of the theological arguments surrounding the idea about the existence of God or the supernatural revolve around metaphysical assumptions. Therefore many of the responses to the theist’s position always takes a metaphysical bent. That is, for example, if I am arguing about the *transcendent nature of God, then I am arguing transcendentalism, and therefore my philosophy will automatically have to concede to the same basic metaphysical assumption of the theist. Even a criticism of the argument from transcendentalism supposes, for the sake of argument, that the theist’s theology is valid. Then one begins the arduous task of poking holes in the theology by raising valid objections, concerns, and showing where the weaknesses of the argument are.
The problem is, I feel that this concedes too much to the theological position of most theists. After all, they have made a claim about nature, about metaphysics, and about the interaction of the two. When I hear such claims, I don’t want to hear philosophical explications of their theology, I want to see demonstrations for how they have arrived at this theology. In other words, I don’t so much care about the details of the argument, but I am curious as to how and why they came to hold the specific beliefs about the world that they have formulated, and in the end, I realized the theological arguments were merely the byproduct of a series of assumptions which need to be made before even the argument can get off the ground.
Coming back to the transcendental argument, the only reason I can reasonably think of as to why one would even posit God as transcendental is met with the problem of divine hiddenness. That is, if we had ocular evidence for God there would be no reason to assume God’s transcendence. This reaction can only be caused by an acute awareness of God’s physical absence. Therefore, those who *feel they have experienced some divine, supernatural, or metaphysical force will begin to try and make reasons for such experiences based on preconceived ideas about the world and about the nature of God.
Well, the problem isn’t a new one. People have been wondering where God has been for centuries, and human imagination has grappled to harmonize the two seemingly opposed states of evidence. The experience of God is real, but I see no evidence for God, and this leads to a type of cognitive dissonance in the mind of the believer by which the person who desires to believe (for whatever reasons) will try to harmonize these irreconcilable positions. Therefore, the idea behind this type of reasoning is, if my experience is real, but I cannot see or detect God in the usual sense, then God is beyond my senses! God therefore must exist beyond nature. He must be transcendent.
See, but the problem here is that theists choose to accept the existence of God as a brute fact before they come to the conclusion. If you look at the world and look around for signs of God, as a matter of fact, it’s not all that clear cut. In other words, it’s not logical to go from: I see no direct evidence for God to God most certainly exists. Rather, such a position takes a leap of faith. In fact, it has been nicknamed the Keirkegaardian leap of faith for this very reason, namely that one starting from a naturalistic ontology merely presupposes the existence of God, therefore a leap of faith to the conclusion God is real.
Something has always bothered me about this sort of reasoning. I simply do not like it. Not because it starts with its conclusion as the premise, which is problematic enough, but because so many people make this mistake that via ubiquity it seems almost reasonable to accept. After all, everyone else is doing it, believing it, so if I do too… so what?
Well, it forces those who refuse to take the leap of faith (for whatever reasons) into a position where they thereby must defy the consensus, because of the realization that the reasoning of the consensus is undeniably flawed. Being put into the position to defend, what appears to me, a valid position of naturalism. Somehow this seems wrong to me.
We all live and experience life in basically the same way, and our sensate experiences can be checked against those of all the other humans alive and who have ever lived, and yet there are religious oriented thinkers who are saying we are only experiencing one aspect of this reality. But they don’t say this because they checked to see if that metaphysical reality exists, they haven’t tested it, they merely have already seized upon the belief that it is real, therefore in a circular way of reasoning, have settled on the notion that their conclusions are sound--when in fact they're completely unfounded. That bothers me, especially when I see absolutely no evidence for carrying such an assumption.
So I was looking for a pragmatic way to address this basic conflict. Once I realized that it was technically an epistemological problem in how people come to think about their own understanding of the information (knowledge) they have, then the desire to form reality according to their fancies rather than simply accepting reality as it is became obvious to me.
Researching cognitive dissonance, biases, and belief formation I discovered a field of epistemology called constructivism. The more I read about it the more it seemed that this is what was happening with the strange sort of belief formation going on with regard to the conflicting states of evidence I mentioned above. This lead me to a few articles on ignosticism (and there are only a few, mind you). After reading them, I did a facepalm and said, this is so simple! Why didn’t I see this before? And instantly I set to work to try and expound upon ignosticism as a philosophy. One which just so happens to predict the variant experiences and definitions of God as its basis relies on constructivism, which is a well-established epistemology, and having this sound basis one can begin to see how people who desire to believe in God will start to assign meaning to their conceptualizations, and eventually, give rise to fully formed definitions. How the definitions come to have the meaning they do is related to the study of semantics, an area I have some formal training in, and then it hit me. All three areas I am concerned with, semantics, constructivism, and ignosticism were related to each other. That was an exciting realization for me, and I just had to get it down on paper.
Bud: What is the main argument you are espousing in the book?
Tristan: The main argument is basically this: Since the word “God” has many different meanings, it is possible to express many different propositions about the term “God.” But if all the meanings are different, and all the definitions are varying—some overlapping while others being discrepant—than to say “God” means this or that, when God could potentially mean anything, turns out to be quite meaningless.
Therefore, according to ignosticism, the term “God” as traditionally understood is rendered incoherent by the superfluous existence of competing God concepts and propositions. Unable to pin down an exact description of the word “God” the ignostic asks the following question: Does it makes sense to talk about God? In other words, does the following question “Does God exist?” make any sense in a context where the term “God” could come to mean anything?
The ignostic holds that the term God is too ill-defined to talk about rationally. Thus, the ignostic claims a coherent definition of God must be provided before the question of God’s existence has any relevant meaning. Failure to provide a coherent definition is the same to fail to supply an adequate definition of God, therefore the ignostic would take the position that to talk about God at all is meaningless.
One of the things I examine in the book is why it would be meaningless to talk about an incoherent term. I develop a method of justification for the purpose of showing how words carry either conceptual meanings or descriptive meanings. In the book I use the analogy of a Granny Smith apple. The big, sour, juicy, green apples that are so delicious. Now, if I took the *same apple, cut it in half, and gave you part and I took the other part and we both tasted it, needless to say our descriptions would match up exactly.
Green, crunchy, juicy, sour, Granny Smith apple.
This means that our description for the same object will always converge because we have a tangible referent which allows us both to reference the same object. This is what I consider a referential justification for objects which exist in reality. We can test the meaning of the terms by holding them up to competing descriptions to see whether the descriptions of each referent converge. When they do converge, it is highly likely that we are dealing with something real, and we understand this, because our experiences of it match up exactly.
But experience of God does not match up. And I, again, make the case that our experiences of God should match up, and thereby so should our definitions, and this would point to something which exists in reality. But this we don’t find. Therefore, I make the suggestion that things which people tend to describe in which the descriptions diverges, and often come into conflict, denotes the idea that the reference point isn’t a real tangible object in reality, but rather a concept. The divergence of a term's description, in semantic terms, denotes a conceptualization. This is exactly what we do find with respect to God. Once we come to this realization, that the term “God” doesn’t describe anything in reality, but instead deals with a *concept, I then try and shoot this hypothesis down by predicting some possible objections.
After addressing some possible objections, I go on to address why our experience of God is different, and this takes us into the territory of psychology. I don’t spend much time there, because there has been a lot of excellent work in this area, and I am more concerned with the semantics, but given that language is part of our psychological make-up, I thought I should probably end the book with a short overview of the psychological aspects which reinforce the ignostic position, even though it is a theological consideration, at the very least it can be demonstrated as compatible with the world as we observe it. Which is more than can be said about most metaphysical conjecture regarding the existence of God.
Bud: What was the hardest part of the book to write?
Tristan: Probably the research. Originally the idea for the book came from a short blog series I did on ignosticism. But I always knew that if ignosticism was to be fully considered it would need further support. So I spent four long months simply reading about constructivism and constructionism and another four months writing the book. I wanted to know for certain if this area of epistemology really was as compatible with ignosticism as I initially thought it was. I think I make a strong case in the book that they are fully compatible. As one supports the other, this gives good precedent to suspect that the theories are describing something that is actually happening. At least, it seems there are good reasons to assume as much. This forms a solid starting point for us to push forward the ignostic consideration.
The second hardest part was talking about all these heavy handed philosophical concepts in a light, easy to comprehend, sort of way. This is not an academic work by any means. But even so, I still wanted to outline the various philosophical and epistemological concepts but still have them accessible enough to people who have never heard of these ideas and who were wholly unfamiliar with the philosophical jargon. I remembered my own confusion about six years prior when I first began to study philosophy, and the problem I always had with the seemingly sophist concepts, hard to grasp terminology, and overly complicated definitions. Many people shrug philosophy off as too convoluted to bother with, but it’s actually just about the learning curve. Basically, learning philosophy is a lot like learning a new language. You have to memorize new words, ideas, and ways of thinking and speaking about things. It takes time. So one of the things I have tried to do is explain everything using simple language, analogies, and short to the point sentences. My goal was always clarity. And this, I think, is the most important aspect of non-fiction writing in general, clarity. Without clarity, the book itself descends into a convoluted, confounded, mess of high concepts and low comprehensibility. I wanted to avoid confusion at all costs, because although these are big ideas with even bigger consequences, the point they make is quite simple.
Bud: What's your favorite part of the book?
Tristan: The book itself? Well, this is a book I made entirely myself and self-published through my Hungry Word Publications imprint. I suppose my favorite part of any book is the actual making of the book. Everything from layout to cover design. This time around I did everything. So I think the best part for me was seeing eight months of hard work come together in the form of a gorgeous slim paperback volume.
Also, the cover. I spent roughly 12 hours designing the cover using Adobe InDesign, and it turned out splendidly.
Bud: What surprised you the most as you were writing?
Tristan: The Granny Smith apple analogy. It is so simple yet carries with it a undeniably profound consequence. The consequence being that if you cannot get your definitions of God to align as accurately with others as your definition of a green apple aligns with theirs, then something is wrong with your definition of God—or theirs—or both. And that analogy demonstrates how to go about testing one’s understanding of God, and shows how if it doesn’t match up, then, well… you have to ask why. Otherwise you’re just accepting a problematic definition because you want to force it to mean what you desire it to mean rather than looking at how the word is functioning in the language. After all, we can’t simply use the words “green” or “apple” in any way we see fit regardless of context, but this is exactly what people are doing with the term “God.” And this example by analogy exposes this demonstrably flawed practice. The funny thing is, the idea of using Granny Smith apples just fell into my consciousness the same way, I suspect, Newton’s apple fell upon his head.
Bud: What other kind of research or reading did you do in preparation to write?
Tristan: The book is a slim, 86 pages, and is no bigger than Sam Harris’s book Letter to a Christian Nation. But this was intentional. I didn’t want a lengthy fat philosophical tome, or a heavy academic work, as I was aiming for an introduction to these concepts and ideas. Therefore the aim was to keep things as simple as possible. That said, I still had to do quite a bit of reading. I ordered a textbook on *constructivism and in addition to this I read, for the first time, all of Ludwig Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations. It was important to incorporate Wittgenstein’s philosophy into my own since both are equally concerned with the meaning of words and how we come into our understanding of words and ideas through language. I even quote Wittgenstein in the book, because one of his key concepts really helped me. He noted there is a difference in simply naming a thing and actually describing a thing. And this came with it the realization that I might want to test some of the God propositions and see whether or not they prove to be merely things names or actual descriptions. As it turns out, there is a long traditions of assigning ‘attributes’ to the concept of God, and these ‘attributes’ later get turned into qualities comprising God’s nature in many religious traditions. And before I read Wittgenstein it would not have occurred to me that the various ‘attributes’ assigned to God were erroneous because they deal with a ritual of ‘naming’ and not describing something. And the difference is simply this: Naming a thing is strictly an imaginative exercise. Describing a thing is an empirical exercise.
The book took 8 months to complete.
Bud: What did you learn from writing the book?
Tristan: I learned that writing lengthy bibliographies is a pain in the ass. And writing even lengthier indexes is such a big pain in the ass that I opted to omit one. But if I was going for a more academic level of presentation I would opt to include an index. However, as short as this book is, and it being introductory material (in which I usually explain the meanings of the terms when they arise) I didn’t feel that an index was entirely necessary. Author’s prerogative, as Captain Jean-Luc Picard would say.
Bud: What other authors/writers influence your own work?
Tristan: As I previously mentioned Wittgenstein is probably the biggest influence behind my reasoning and so too this book, at least in terms of style and content. Unlike Wittgenstein however, I am not formally trained in philosophy and I did not have Bertrand Russell as my tutor. That said, the second biggest influence would probably be Friedrich Nietzsche. His concept that religion is a type of nihilism, and therefore is eternally in conflict with itself, registers with me.
I see that most of the conflict which arises from religion is not, for example, religion being incompatible with science, but rather, the conflict which arises within said religion where it contains teachings which both accept and deny scientific teachings, and therefore creates a conflict which has the potential to splinter into other factions of religion—where one group chooses, for example, to uphold the teachings of science and the other chooses to deny the teachings of science.
This splintering effect seems to express the chaos and conflict that Nietzsche realized was at the core of every religious ideology, and it is an area I’ve often thought about. For me the chaos is born out of differing points of view. It represents what I feel is a difference in style and approach with respect to the believer’s intellectual affluence and the teachings of religion itself. Those driven by doctrinal dogma will always side with the fundamental teachings of religion, regardless of whether or not such a position can be justified, and therefore they are rightly called dogmatic Fundamentalists. While the other side, being perhaps more liberal in their thinking, will allow for outside influences to become a part of their religious thinking, and their faith evolves (or adapts) itself to the new information in a way which makes their faith progressive, but also on the surface seemingly heretical. Because nearly every religion is comprised of these two styles of thought, religion always seems to be in a state of chaotic flux.
So, yeah, I would say Wittgenstein and Nietzsche are my biggest influences.
Bud: So what's next after this book?
Tristan: I write both fiction and nonfiction. I guess I’m versatile in that way. But I have a slate of non-fiction works either near completion or fully outlined to begin writing. I think I will spend the next year finishing my supernatural noir detective comedy called The Scarecrow & Lady Kingston: Rough Justice. It’s about a scarecrow that comes to life (think Wizard of Oz) and joins the L.A.P.D. investigative division, and his partner, a hot tempered spitfire of a gal Julie Kingston. They investigate strange and bizarre cases, like Fringe meets the Wizard of Oz, meets Columbo. Many people have shown a keen interest in the premise, and the book is finished, I just have to edit and find test readers.
After that I am on a deadline to finish the third part of my zombie series, Bitten 3: Kingdom of the Living Dead. The first two are available in paperback and e-book format. Finally, I have a science fiction saga outlined. But I’ve been stalling because the challenge in writing a big fantasy/operatic sci-fi saga has daunted me to the point of… I simply don’t know where to begin with it. But my notes, ideas, character descriptions, etc. are enough to fill a full 300 page novel alone. Now it’s just about getting all these ideas into a narrative, into a story.
As for nonfiction works, I have just one upcoming book called Beyond an Absence of Faith and is a collection of deconversion stories by ex-believers. I have an interesting variety of people, from everyday folk to ex-pastors and ministers, to a woman who escaped an oppressive cult, to a person who once practiced transcendental yoga. The book also include an equal amount of stories by women as by men, because one of the things I wanted to stress is that there are the same amount of women nonbelievers as male nonbelievers, and just by glancing at the bookshelf at your local Barnes & Noble, this is not at all clear. Way more attention has been given to the men in the secular movement, but women are a vital part of the movement, and are equally as brilliant, and their stories are just as engrossing—and so this book gives equal room for some very talented ladies to express their side of things and share their own stories.
Needless to say, my docket is full for the next year and a half.
Bud: I'm happy to say that I was selected as one of the writers for Beyond an Absence of Faith. Very much looking forward to that, and your other works. Do you have anything specific that you want to say to your readers, or anyone who might be considering reading your book?
Tristan: I would love feedback. Criticism, both positive and negative, are welcome. I consider this book a work in progress. It had no official peer review, so after the first wave of readers give me some feedback I may choose to go back and expand or amend some things in a second addition. That said, if you purchase the book in e-back format, the editions will automatically be updated. If you want to wait a year and buy the paperback after the second edition comes out, that’s fine. But I anticipate a lot of feedback on this topic, and as always, I often will reconsider my position and ideas when given enough reason to. Which brings me to the advice I think is probably the most important when it comes to big ideas and concepts, it’s always okay to change your mind.
Tristan Vick is the editor of the non-fiction collections Reason Against Blasphemy and Seasons of Freethought which collects the freethought works of G.W. Foote and Robert G. Ingersoll. You can learn more about the author at: www.tristanvick.com
His religious and philosophical opinions and essays can be read on his blog: www.advocatusatheist.blogspot.com
