**I borrow the title from Greg Koukl
I never thought it would be so hard to get someone to say I’m wrong. Even with the most agreeable people it’s pretty easy: just say something controversial or charged that you know they’ll have a problem with. They’ll cry foul quite easily.
Not so in a conversation I had today. The folks I was chatting with didn’t see it my way, but getting them to actually admit they thought I was in error was like nailing the proverbial jello to a wall.
I guess I should clarify: they thought I was wrong, no doubt, but it was quite difficult to get them to actually own up to that. For the record, I was perfectly at ease with their corrections. I was not perturbed in the least that they were disagreeing with me. I simply wanted them to admit it.
First, the context: two days ago, both myself and a group of colleagues at my school took a lunch to view a “Faith Under Fire” TV debate between Greg Koukl and Deepak Chopra on “the future of faith.” Koukl is a Christian, while Chopra…well, I don’t know what I would call Chopra. New Age mystic? Perhaps. Hindu? A little, but would he agree with that label? Who knows. Suffice it to say, while there was some common ground between the two, they disagreed at a very fundamental worldview level.
Friday, we met again to discuss our thoughts about the debate. The somewhat odd conversation I described above happened amidst that discussion.
Most everyone there, I think, were put off by Koukl’s mannerisms. He seemed too aggressive to them. They didn’t like how he interrupted and dominated the discussion. While I didn’t see it that way ultimately (I caught a slight air of smugness and passive-aggressiveness from Chopra, and I was put off by that instead), I could see why they’d think that: to some, Koukl comes off that way sometimes.
Though I could see their perspective, I was more interested in discussing the content of each man’s claims. This is when things got interesting.
Conversation soon centered around notions of tolerance and subjective vs objective truth. One teacher took exception with Koukl’s desire to claim to be right: many people have different beliefs. For some, Christianity is true for them, but for others, not so much.
What is ironic is that the portion of the debate we didn’t watch addressed that issue precisely. Chopra made the same claim: many people have different beliefs, so who is to say? Koukl responded by pointing out a non-sequitur in Chopra’s argument: just because there are many different beliefs, it doesn’t follow that no one is right, it doesn’t follow that we can’t know who is right, and it doesn’t follow that no one can have solid reasons and evidence for the truth of his views.
My response to the “true for them” claim: I don’t even know what that means. What does it even mean to say God exists “for me” but not “for you?” Does God suddenly pop into existence when I’m thinking, but pop out of existence when an atheist thinks?
My colleague responded by claiming that we’re talking about subjective, personal beliefs: no one can have any evidence for his beliefs being true.
This struck me as a very odd thing to say. How could he claim that with any amount of confidence whatsoever? Had he thoroughly investigated all the possibilities out there? To have confidence in that assertion, he’d need to have an almost “God’s eyeview” grasp of the nature of things. In other words, it would require an astounding amount of knowledge and insight to make such a claim as that. At a bare minimum, he would have to have thoroughly and exhaustively investigated my worldview and the supposed evidences I offer. He hasn’t done this yet to date. I haven’t even given him one single piece of anything I call ‘evidence’…in our conversations so far, he has merely asserted confident skepticism that it’s even possible for me.
He could very reasonably say, “I haven’t encountered any solid evidence yet,” or something like that, but that is quite different from saying I can’t know, no one can know, and having evidence isn’t possible.
In addition, the law of excluded middle and the law of non-contradiction applies here: God either exists or he doesn’t. Both can’t be true, and both can’t be false. When I say God exists, I am making a statement not about my personal tastes and preferences, but I am making a claim about the world, namely, that there is some being/thing/person called “God” that exists in the world (same goes for a person who says God doesn’t exist). When I go on to describe him/her/it, I’m making more claims in the same vein. Given this, God either exists or not…period. I’m not talking about my taste in food here.
My colleague still disagreed. He thought I was making a dichotomy, and dichotomies in matters of religion are not reasonable.
Later after the conversation, my wife reflected: “do pluralists (like some of my colleagues) actually believe God really exists?” It is a good question: if yes, that negates their pluralism–those that believe God actually doesn’t exist are wrong. If no–if belief in God is simply a way to make oneself happy–that negates their pluralism. Those that believe God truly exists in the real world are wrong. In addition, the pluralist in that case is simply a closet atheist: he believes God really doesn’t exist in reality. God is a figment of imagination in the minds of the faithful; that is the only sense in which He exists to these pluralists.
He also took umbrage at the name of the program we watched: “why does faith need to be under fire? Why debate these sorts of things?”
The reason, as Koukl said, is that ideas have consequences. “Reality has a way of bruising those who don’t take it seriously,” Koukl noted. If Chopra is right, Koukl (and myself, by extension) is missing out on peace, love, tolerance, and harmony. If Koukl is right, then there are grave consequences–pun intended–in the next life for Chopra. I agree. Afterall, if we are only talking about our individual beliefs and preferences, why sit through all that? If we are only talking about our prefereneces and aren’t talking about reality, I’m not interested…lets talk about how to get a pay raise or how to teach better. Only if my colleagues actually have insight into the real world, only if they might possibly possess the real truth that I lack, is it worthwhile to listen. If what I believe is “true for me” and it works for me, why listen to others who think differently than I?
When the discussion moved onto tolerance and intolerance, I tried to point that out. Some teachers thought Koukl was out of line for thinking he’s right (another irony, since Koukl addressed this at length) and he was intolerant for saying Chopra is wrong. One thought Koukl *ought to have been* more tolerant. “People who think they are right have caused religious wars and conflicts,” she continued.
This made me wonder if the combative nature of the debate (which some people have a hard time with in matters of personal beliefs) made the actual content and claims of the speakers fly right past them. Koukl pointed out several times that it’s not thinking you’re right that causes division, war, and such–it’s the specific content of the beliefs you think are right.
MLK jr thought he was right. He confidently believed that the way of racial equality was more humane than the way of the KKK and Jim Crow South. Our world is a better place because of his confidence.
The teacher in question didn’t realize that she was in the same boat as Koukl. Though she insisted she was just stating her beliefs, her words went past that. Anytime someone says words like “should,” or “ought,” s/he is making moral judgments and corrections. She thought tolerance is a real moral good and intolerance a real moral vice. Why else would she object to Koukl’s behavior and say he “should” have been more tolerant?
Why is someone intolerant just for thinking he’s right and I’m wrong? People say I’m wrong all the time–doesn’t bother me one bit. Why should it? Perhaps they have a point. Maybe I really am incorrect and they have it right. Furthermore, I don’t think anyone can avoid this.
Even Chopra ran into this. At one point in the discussion, Koukl called God a “He.” Chopra quickly corrected him: “you are conceptualizing God in a male way by calling God a ‘he.’” I don’t think he was simply pointing out Koukl’s beliefs. He was correcting him. When you correct someone, that entails you think he’s wrong or he’s made a misstep somehow.
Time and time again, Chopra subtly corrected Koukl’s understanding. Even when he simply asked questions, he was not asking questions just to gain information, as if he only wanted to know what Koukl believed. His questions had a point to them. For example, at one juncture, he asked, “Do you think that those who don’t believe as you do are damned to hell?” This was no innocent question. That was and is a completely legitimate way of discussion; what was out of bounds is that he said things like that, but when Koukl noted that Chopra was claiming to be right (therefore he was in the same boat as Koukl and every other human being on the planet), Chopra backtracked and denied he was trying to correct Koukl.
This was quite passive-aggressive, coming from someone who regularly characterizes folks like Koukl as dogmatic and narrow-minded. He has even said that the types of things Koukl believes (namely, religious exclusivism–the belief that one’s worldview is the only right way) has caused wars and division. If that isn’t correction, if that isn’t saying, “you’re wrong,” then what are we to make of that?
A few teachers in the discussion agreed with Chopra, and it was so hard to get them to recognize that if that is the definition of intolerance (claiming you are right and others who disagree are wrong), then they, too, were intolerant. What that means isn’t that they really are intolerant…it just means we should drop the questionable notion of intolerance: we all think we’ve got it right at some juncture, that’s ok, so lets not get worked up about it. Let’s instead spend our time listening to one another’s reasons for their beliefs and pondering the possibility that someone in the discussion has insight to the truth. At one point, I said the following:
“I believe in hell, and that people who don’t bend the knee to Jesus are going there. Am I wrong?”
Answer: “maybe. I don’t know.”
Another one: “a few times throughout the discussion I’ve said that you think you are right. Have I misunderstood you?”
Answer: “perhaps. I don’t know. Maybe.”
This came from a person who, just a few minutes before, had objected to my statements that he thought he was right. He also had taken umbrage at dichotomies and categorical statements…both of which I was making. Even if he was only describing his beliefs to me, if he didn’t think them true, why say them in the first place?
I thought afterwards how I could have made this point better. Here is one:
Me: “what was it you said about intolerance causing warfare? (or “what was it you said about dichotomies and categorical statements?” The specific view in question isn’t important)?”
Colleague: “Yes. Historically it has been those who think they’re right and everyone else is wrong who have caused all the conflict and division.”
Me: “do you think that is true?”
Colleague: “Yes.” (How could she say otherwise if she uttered it?)
Me: “I disagree. My religion claims otherwise. All the warfare has been caused by people like Chopra. Am I wrong?”
Colleague: “Well, that’s true for you.”
Me: “No, I’m not saying it’s just true for me. I’m saying that my view, which contradicts yours, is actually so. It’s not just true for me. It’s just true period. Am I wrong?”
Where could my fellow teacher go from here without hoisting herself on her own petard? Though the above scenario doesn’t reflect my true beliefs 100%, it makes my point.
Earlier she said “no one can know the truth about God. We won’t find out until after we are dead.” What she missed is that this is a statement about God. Does she know that or is it just a personal belief? If the latter, then I can safely disregard it, just like I can disregard those who really like mustard or ketchup (I have an extreme distaste for both). If the former, then she’s just said something like: “we’re all blind, but let me tell you what the world is really like.”
Here’s another:
“Hypothetical scenario: say I come along to you and claim with confidence: ‘My religion declares that homosexuals are damned, so it is ok to discriminate against them and beat them up…I know this to be true.’ What would you say to me?”
(For the record, this also doesn’t accurately reflect my beliefs…it is only a hypothetical used to prove a point). I don’t know how my colleagues would respond, but recognize the choices are limited, and some are rather unsavory.
If they seek to correct me at all, they have just done what they reprimanded Koukl for. Even if they express skepticism–”how could you know something like that?”–it is a challenge tantamount to calling my supposed knowledge into question.
This is kinda like sawing off the branch you are sitting on….not a good option.
If they say something like, “while I don’t believe like you, that is true for you,” they have tried to change my statement into something it’s not. In both scenarios, I’m not just expressing a personal belief–I am making a knowledge claim. Furthermore, they’ve expressed ambivalence to something that–at least in the latter hypothetical–is obviously and incredibly wrong. Doing what they should do–namely, condemn the belief–puts them right back in the position of sawing at that ‘ol branch.
If they say, “I don’t know if you are right or wrong. We’ll never know until we die,”–this is what one teacher asserted early on in matters of religion–then, they have just jumped the shark. I guess at this point I could steal her cell phone and claim my religion commands it. She’d probably object. I think that would end it right there.
The fact of the matter is that there are many religious beliefs that are wrong, and we know this. Some religious points of view claim blacks are inferior to whites. Others claim it’s ok to corral unbelievers and lop off their heads for dissenting. Still other religious points of view claim to know that conquest, wanton, murderous warfare, and burning heretics at the stake are perfectly acceptable ways of persuasion. Are we to say that we can’t know whether or not they are wrong? Answering yes might allow someone to hold onto his skepticism, but he sacrifices so much more–to paraphrase Bill Craig, he sacrifices his humanity.
It doesn’t matter that those who embrace such racism and wickedness might believe as fervently as I. Sincerity says nothing about the truth of a belief.
Let’s say that one of my colleagues reads this post and writes a comment. No matter what the comment is, it’s good for me. If he says I understood him correctly, then I’m right at that point–he was correcting me and Koukl, which places him squarely in my (and Koukl’s) boat. If he takes exception with my characterization of him (hey, some of the details are a bit fuzzy…not an outlandish thought), then I’m right–he is correcting me, which places him squarely in my boat.
Could I be wrong? Of course I could be mistaken in my beliefs. I invite anyone to come along and give me evidence. Just asserting otherwise by changing my statements into something they are not (relative personal, subjective beliefs) or asserting that I’m intolerant for thinking I’m right (name calling) won’t do the trick.
