A Philosophical Approach

Baron claims that my writings often display a “disrespectful,” “vicious,” or “hurtful” tone, a characterization I find either absurd or trivial. Those who wish to shield their deeply held religious beliefs from scrutiny may interpret any critique as crossing a line. Conversely, an atheist may argue that by sharply challenging religion, they are showing respect for the humanity of believers, who could benefit from distancing themselves from outdated notions.

I acknowledge that my writing style tends to be direct. I embrace a straightforward approach, reminiscent of Nietzsche's notion of using a hammer against false idols. If you prefer to dance around contentious topics with diluted, politically correct language, my style may not resonate with you.

(Here, I address not only Gerald R. Baron but also theists like Prudence Louise, who have explicitly criticized my tone. Most theists I engage with on Medium do not hide behind such accusations; they engage directly with the arguments. My focus is primarily on addressing arguments and worldviews rather than targeting individual readers, a distinction Baron seems to recognize.)

In general, I believe Baron misinterprets or sidesteps the essence of my arguments, leading to responses that misrepresent my position. My aim here is to clarify the points I was attempting to convey.

The Universe’s Natural Stages of Development

Baron asserts that I assume the universe is primarily self-creative, a key point I made in the first section of my article that he seems to have overlooked. My premise is that science has significantly enhanced our understanding of how the universe has developed naturally, rather than through supernatural means. For example, we now possess models explaining the formation of solar systems and galaxies, tracing their evolution back to shortly after the enigmatic Big Bang.

If a theist contests the existence of a purely naturalistic scientific explanation and denies that science has expanded its domain over the past four centuries, then we are fundamentally at odds. However, my critique of the teleological argument for theism is built on the success of scientific inquiry.

That said, my arguments are not question-begging; I do not assume that science has definitively atheistic explanations for the universe's origin. In fact, I have expressed skepticism about whether scientific methods alone can uncover such origins, a topic I will explore further in an upcoming article titled “Beyond the Fast-Food Conception of Ultimate Knowledge.” What I do assume is that scientists have a nuanced understanding of how the natural universe evolved from simpler, more inhospitable stages. By “self-creation,” I refer to this process.

In my article, I liken the universe to a child (or to a zygote developing into a fetus and eventually a child), rather than to a typical product of intelligent design. The crux of my argument is that we typically invoke intelligent design only when confronted with a fully-formed, functional artifact.

In contrast, when we consider a remarkably simple seed that grows and evolves over extensive periods into something increasingly ordered and complex, the appeal to intelligent design becomes less relevant. Natural explanations suffice for much of that evolution, leaving little for a designer to accomplish. What sort of designer would create a universe through indirect means, by merely planting a seed that autonomously completes the rest of the work, such as forming molecules, stars, and planets that enhance the likelihood of life? That scenario suggests a deistic God rather than the personal deity of theists.

The Superfluous Designer of Such Stages

Before delving further, I want to address a specific point made by Baron:

"Let’s go back to the Tesla. We stumble across one and note that its functions are being upgraded. Is it natural because we see a very complex machine that is evolving that we conclude it must have popped into existence from quantum fluctuations with a self-organizing capability?"

This design argument directly contradicts my assertion regarding the universe's various stages of self-development. The initial stages of the universe were not akin to a Tesla or any complex machine. The early period, lasting several hundred thousand years, involved the formation of subatomic particles, with no stars or planets present at that time. Following that, there was a billion-year dark period during which large structures began to emerge. It was only after approximately a billion years that the universe transitioned from those simpler stages to what we recognize today.

Thus, when Genesis claims that God created everything from nothing (or from chaotic waters), it misrepresents the scientific model, which indicates that one stage evolved naturally from another—until the point where scientific explanations cease. That is where the theist argues for God’s involvement. How else can we account for the universe's apparent capacity to support life? Baron states, "Because the universe—and us—provide strong evidence of intention, the source of nature is mostly like a Being with intention and rational thought."

However, the capacity of the universe to support life is not as accommodating or obviously intentional as early religious thinkers believed. It was simpler to posit God as an explanation when humanity was unaware of the vast, often hostile universe beyond our solar system. Our former anthropocentric illusions have been dispelled, further diminishing the need to invoke intelligent design in cosmological discussions.

What kind of intelligent designer would want us to believe they are responsible for a universe largely inhospitable to human life? The majority of the universe would pose a fatal threat if we ventured into it without significant protective measures, which would be the result of human ingenuity rather than divine intervention. Surviving a journey into outer space requires dismissing theistic beliefs in favor of secular humanism and the technological advancements and mindset it fosters.

What sort of God would create a universe filled with such inhospitable dimensions? The theist may argue that this God is magnificent, but I question whether such a designer could truly justify the claims of theistic religions.

First Cause versus Father Figure

I now turn to the concept of Blort. My analogy serves to illustrate a dilemma between the philosopher's impersonal First Cause and the personal deity of traditional theism. Blort represents a highly creative entity that could technically be viewed as a universe creator. This could satisfy some theistic desires for a First Cause, as I posit that Blort creates through magic, implying a supernatural origin for its creations.

However, would this qualify Blort as the God of theists? Not necessarily, since Blort could merely represent the Big Bang singularity or a similar abstract entity. Belief in Blort could align with atheism.

For theism to hold, Gerald Baron suggested that “What if Blort started to communicate? What if she said I will tell you, Mr. Cain, who I am?” Certainly, if Blort began to communicate, we might perceive it as a person, yet that would strip Blort of its mystique. Although personhood and consciousness are complex and anomalous in nature, they are not inherently miraculous. We observe varying degrees of self-awareness and rationality throughout the animal kingdom, indicating that these traits may have evolved.

I do not assume atheism from the outset; instead, I acknowledge the tangible advancements made by science in explaining phenomena in biology and psychology. Baron seems inclined to question evolutionary biology, but I will not delve into that here as I am not an expert in that field, and it diverges from my main argument.

Once we attribute personhood to Blort, we begin to naturalize and humanize it, questioning how its mental states might change and whether its consciousness is limited by its physical structure. From where would such a brain originate? Why this particular brain or personality? This inquiry mirrors the patterns seen in world religions, where God is often anthropomorphized, embodying characteristics reflective of human expectations drawn from a certain stage of our social evolution.

My assertion is that these two interpretations of God—one as an abstract, miraculous First Cause and the other as a literal, anthropocentric deity—do not coexist harmoniously. One must choose between them: the first, an entity consistent with atheism, and the second, a potentially outdated and anthropocentric conception of God.

Nature is Obviously Divine Enough

Finally, I want to address pantheism. I appreciate Baron’s acknowledgment of my assertion that “comprehensive, non-anthropocentric observations of nature will support pantheism long before they prove monotheism.”

He suspects my primary concern lies with Christianity, which is indeed true, as that is the religion I often discuss. However, my broader atheistic critique pertains to what I term naïve, exoteric, literalistic religion. This distinction between exoteric and esoteric beliefs is evident in the New Testament and ancient Mystery Religions, aligning with the earlier dichotomy between the philosopher's God and the simplistic projections of folk theism.

We have largely moved beyond both ancient esoteric and exoteric notions of reality. Nonetheless, I argue that we have replaced them with modern interpretations. A more sophisticated esoteric religion that aligns with philosophical naturalism and contemporary thought resembles the pantheism proposed by Baruch Spinoza. This perspective resonated with scientists like Einstein and Hawking, equating God with nature or, in Spinoza's outdated metaphysical terminology, with a substance embodying all possible attributes.

The pantheism I advocate for recognizes that science simultaneously enchants and disenchantments. While it dismantles exoteric theism, it unveils a peculiar universe that far exceeds the simple creation of a human-like deity. Nature itself is inherently divine and awe-inspiring, rendering unnecessary the conception of a supreme being underpinning it. The natural universe is vast and far more complex than our intuitions suggest, capable of inspiring societies to strive for remarkable aims. Following the Scientific Revolution, this represents the highest aspiration a respectable religion can achieve.

Exoteric theists seek personal immortality and a paradise with a Creator who has all the answers and rectifies all injustices. This notion is akin to the comforts of a mother’s womb, suited for the innocence of unknowing infants. As we mature and shed our naiveté, we discover that it is up to us to realize these ideals. It falls upon science, philosophy, and art, alongside flawed yet intelligent, self-aware individuals, to extend our lifespans, advocate for justice, and construct a better world.