Some thoughts on The Postmodern Condition

Postmodernism was the bogeyman of the late ‘90s and early 2000s among evangelicals and other conservatives. In much the same way that one’s response to Critical Race Theory (which has some connections with postmodernity) serves as a shibboleth for acceptability in trendy circles, postmodernism functioned as a way to be part of the cool kids (on either side).

There are now those that think that postmodernism is really just another form of modernity (perhaps further advanced along its trajectory), and thus never really existed as a distinct movement, but there was something that adherents and opponents felt was different from the general stream of modernity, which still deserves some attention. With that in mind, I picked up, Jean-Francois Lyotard’s book, The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge, to try to get a better understanding from the horse’s mouth, as it were.

Lyotard offers a definition in his introduction: “Simplifying to the extreme, I define postmodern as incredulity toward metanarratives.”

In other words, Lyotard was arguing that modernity attempted to impose homogeneity on the world through metanarratives—high level explanations that were an attempt to make sense of everything. Postmodernity claims to recognize metanarratives as impositions from authorities that likely have little claim to correspondence to the truth.

At its best, postmodernity shakes the claims of modernistic empiricism, which leads to the apparent supremacy of “Science.” Postmodernity did not succeed in uprooting the religion of Scientism, as evidenced by the year of shaming that we “follow the Science” or “believe in the Science” or “listen to the Science.” In general, when someone puts a definite article in front of “Science” they are no longer talking about actual science, but about how they intend to try to browbeat you into doing what they want to. We are still very much living in an era where people believe that “Science” has or can produce a unified theory of everything. This despite Thomas Kuhn’s work in The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, which shows a truer picture of the way the scientific community develops metanarratives that evolve over time.

By Lyotard offers some helpful analysis beyond his definition of postmodernism. Though The Postmodern Condition was written in 1979, he predicted the information age with a surprising degree of prescience.

For example, he wrote,

“Knowledge in the form of an informational commodity indispensable to productive power is already, and will continue to be, a major—perhaps the major—stake in the worldwide competition for power. It is conceivable that the nation-states will one day fight for control of information, just as they battled in the past for control over territory, and afterwards for control of access to and exploitation of raw materials and cheap labor.”

There are obvious connections to information warfare, the psyops that are ongoing with bots on social media, election interference, etc. The fact that there are operatives from other nations whose primary goal is to stir up dissent and doubt among citizens of the United States is an illustration of Lyotard’s prediction.

Also, significantly for the concept of education and the role of the state, Lyotard anticipated the shifting role of the state with regard to education:

“The mercantilization of knowledge is bound to affect the privilege the nation-states have enjoyed, and still enjoy, with respect to the production and distribution of learning. The notion that learning falls within the purview of the State, as the brain or mind of society, will become more and more outdated with the increasing strength of the opposing principle, according to which society exists and progresses only if the messages circulating within it are rich and easy to decode. The ideology of communicational “transparence,” which goes hand in hand with the commercialization of knowledge, will begin to perceive the State as a factor of opacity and “noise.” It is from this point of view that the problem of the relationship between economic and State powers threatens to arise with a new urgency.”

It isn’t entirely a bad thing when the State is no longer perceived as “the brain or mind of society,” since the State has been significantly wrong about a number of life changing issues in the not-so-distant past. However, within Lyotard’s prediction is the anticipation of QAnon and similar conspiracy theories, which see a “Deep State” that is controlling the narrative. This has effectively made Twitter, Facebook, YouTube and other outlets the de facto gatekeepers of truth, as congressional hearings and obnoxious overlays on social media posts frequently remind us.

It is interesting to read The Postmodern Condition at this point, to see how many of Lyotard’s anticipated realities have come true. As a description of reality, he is on the right track. He does little to help find a way to navigate through toward some better condition, but there is some value in the diagnosis.

Can Science Explain Everything? - A Review

Can science explain everything?

Most people would answer that question reflexively, but there is likely to be a divided response.

John Lennox, longtime apologist for Christianity and emeritus professor of Mathematics, argues that science cannot explain everything. His little book from The Good Book company, Can Science Explain Everything?, is a concise explanation of his response.

To some, the question itself might seem absurd, but one of the prevailing worldviews of the 21st century is scientism. We see this when people tell us to “follow the Science” or that “Science tells us” or some other trick of speech that assumes that there is a univocal authority in Science (it must be capitalized) that can shortcut any moral or practical concerns. Scientism is the belief that empirical scientific inquiry can answer any question and provide a consistent correct answer.

The question is significant because much of our cultural conversation seems to assume that science either knows everything or that it can know everything if we only ask the right questions and properly fund the research. There are huge ethical problems created by scientism, but there are more practical ones as well.

Scientism presumes that religion is either irrelevant to meaningful knowledge and thus useless for life or directly opposed to reason. This is the view of atheists like Richard Dawkins, but it is also a garden variety myth often used to marginalize Christians. Lennox topples scientism as a presupposition of reality and shows that while science is important, it is lacks sufficient structure to answer some of life’s most important questions.

Lennox opens his book arguing that being a scientist does not preclude belief in God. As a retired professor of mathematics, he has good reason to know this. But he also shares with us the account of his academic superiors attempting to shame him into rejecting Christianity. Lennox then moves on to a discussion of the shift in culture from faithful scientists seeking rational explanation for natural phenomenon because of their faith in God to some more contemporary scientists who seek to use their scientific findings to argue against the existence of God.

The substance of the argument of the book is that both religion and science are dependent upon reason, but they are often geared to ask different questions. Science tends to ask “What?” and “How?” while some sort of philosophical thought, including religion, is necessary to come to an answer about “Why?” The “Why?” in this case refers not to the process, but to purpose. Science can not answer questions of purpose.

Lennox also argues that there is no reason not to take the Bible seriously, despite the apparent power of science to explain all natural phenomena and exclude any supernatural events. He even argues that there is no reason to reject miracles. The miracles recorded in Scripture, like the resurrection of Jesus, are matters of history rather than of philosophy or science.

The whole book has an apologetic edge. Lennox is making a case that Christianity is credible. The book begins focused on the question of science, but turns during the discussion of miracles toward other objections to Christianity, for example, Lennox briefly discusses the problem of evil. After that point, he examines the trustworthiness of the text of Scripture we have as a way of explaining why the resurrection miracle has a historical basis. He then provides a chapter explaining that for the skeptic to falsify Christianity—that is, to prove that Christianity is not true, he needs to disprove the resurrection. Lennox shows that Christianity is falsifiable, but also makes the case that the account in the Bible of Jesus’ death, burial, and resurrection plausible and, indeed, even probable as the most credible explanation. Lennox closes the book by explaining how one can be a Christian and why it is important that skeptics and Christians test the faith honestly, seeking answers to doubts without perpetuating them indefinitely.

This is both a good book and a limited book. It is a worthy tool for the right applications, but is not the right instrument for every job.

Can Science Explain Everything? is an introductory level text. It is written at a level that an advanced junior high student could follow the argument. It is most suitable for those with more advanced reasoning skills—curious high schoolers, college students, or congregants who have come up against exclusive claims of scientism and are asking good questions about the faith. The book would also be helpful as an evangelistic tract for an open-minded skeptic who is honest about seeking answer to her questions. It will also be helpful for Christian students asking whether a skeptical teacher really has all the answers.

On the other hand, this is a book that is likely to meet resistance and ridicule by more hardened atheists because Lennox made the necessary tradeoffs between concision and completeness. In a book of 125 pages it is impossible to explore every contour of these important questions. This will lead more antagonist people to find the intentionally basic explanations Lennox offers unconvincing. This is not due to an inherent deficiency in the book, but a recognition of its purpose. Lennox has provided more substantial refutations of scientism in his book God’s Undertaker: Has Science Buried God?

This is a good, useful book. Don’t ask more of it than it is prepared to give, but it would be a handy resource for a youth pastor or church bookshelf to answer some of this culture’s most pressing challenges.

Can Science Explain Everything? (Oxford Apologetics) (Questioning Faith)

By John Lennox

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We Need to Recover Virtue

Until a few years ago there was a lot of talk among orthodox Christians about character. Public concern for character has eroded as political tides have shifted. But throughout the history of Christianity character—that is, embodied virtue—has been a consistent focus of discipleship.

The term virtue has been less commonly discussed among Protestants than among Roman Catholics. Due to the primary focus on Scripture, Protestants have leaned toward deontological ethics. Obedience to the duties outlined in Scripture have framed the way that many Protestant Christians discuss holiness. Among Roman Catholics there is a more robust tradition of virtue ethics and the pursuit of virtue, not least because of the work of Thomas Aquinas on the subject, though one finds similar language in Augustine and others.

One common objection to virtue talk among Protestants is that it enables a drift from Scripture. Situational ethics, for example, is a version of virtue ethics that emphasizes one virtue––that of love, ambiguously defined. Situation ethics can be used to justify violation of the clear requirements of Scripture in the name of virtue. Similarly, in versions of virtue ethics (like that espoused by Blanchard and O’Brien in An Introduction to Christian Environmentalism) adherents sometimes justify obvious disobedience to Scripture (as with acts of violence and property destruction) in the name of some other virtue. The vagueness of virtue language has made this approach to ethics and discipleship unpopular especially among conservative evangelicals.

The ambiguity of virtue language and the potential for drift is real, but the price of abandoning the pursuit of virtue is taking a significant toll on the public witness of conservative Christians. A duty-based ethics, absent the guardrails of virtuous character, can fall into self-justification and casuistry very quickly. In practice it often looks like finding proxy sinners to do the dirty work. We can promote an unscrupulous politician, even if we cannot ourselves engage in similar skullduggery. More concerning that voting for one of several bad options is cheering on the misdeeds of the dark hero, which is where the motives of our hearts are revealed.

There is room for a re-engagement in virtue thinking among evangelicals. Indeed, I believe it to be absolutely necessary. Pursuit of virtue must, of course, be filled with the content of Scripture, but we must go beyond proof-texts and seeking bare duties if holiness is going to become the signature quality of evangelicals.

If we are to pursue virtue, we will likely find help from the Roman Catholic tradition, because they have more consistently maintained a focus on virtue. Some instances of this are more helpful than others, but as with any theology, we should be prepared to chew the meat and spit the bones.

Romano Guardini’s book, Learning the Virtues That Lead You to God is a helpful place to begin. The title gives away the fact that Guardini sees virtues as a way of gaining merit that can increase the likelihood of salvation or reduce time in Purgatory, but setting those important considerations aside, there is deep value in studying the virtues as Guardini presents them.

After a brief preface, Guardini considers the nature of virtue, where he lays the groundwork of virtue from Greek philosophy (particularly Plato) and argues that the pursuit of virtue is an incremental work that believers should begin with the virtues that are most familiar to them. There are sixteen meditations that follow, each on a different virtue. These are not the classical virtues, but sixteen character traits including truthfulness, patience, justice, reverence, disinterestedness, kindness, gratitude, and others. As Guardini notes in his preface, “This interpretation shall be carried out in a very unsystematic way.” The book concludes with a brief meditation on justice before God, which attempts to bring unity to the previous chapters and encourages the pursuit of holistic virtue. The conclusion is the least satisfying chapter for someone in the Augustinian tradition, because it ends on a minor key of perpetual pursuit rather than comfort in Christ.

Learning the Virtues that Lead You to God is a book that deserves to be read slowly. While we might not agree with Guardini on the purpose of a pursuit of virtue, there is a great deal of wisdom in the pages.

In dealing with Justice, Guardini notes, “All criticism should begin with ourselves, and with the intention of improving things. Then we would soon see how much goes wrong because we do not permit the other person to be who he is and do not give him the room which he requires.”

While considering reverence, Guardini writes, “In the measure in which cultural evolution progressed, and a rational understanding and technical mastery of the world increased, the religious element receded. The concept of significance and value became predominant and awakened a respectful attitude in which there was still an echo of the old awe, that feeling of reverence of which we are speaking and by which a man of proper discernment still pays tribute to greatness.”

Writing about disinteredness: “The power of personality stems from the genuineness of life, the truth of thought, the pure will to work, and the sincerity of one’s disposition.”

Wrestling with courtesy, we read: “We must emphasize another point, something that has a direct effect on people’s dealings with each other; namely, the lack of time. Courtesy requires time. In order to exercise it, we must stop and wait; we must make a detour and we must be considerate and defer our own affairs. But all this takes time, and in our age of forced deadlines, of precisely functioning machinery, of the high costs of construction, and of fierce competition, the loss of time is something useless, irrational, erroneous, and even wicked.”

These few quotes help show the flavor of the chapters and demonstrate why this is a book that deserves to be read slowly and repeatedly. We need not agree with everything Guardini says, but there is value in hearing him say it and considering it carefully for application in our own lives.

Learning the Virtues: That Lead You to God

By Romano Guardini

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How do We Know? - A Review

One of the biggest needs in the church, especially among theologically conservative Christians, is a recovery of epistemology.

The problem is that that first statement alone will significantly limit the audience for a post like this or the sort of study that is needed to really help change the unhealthy approach to media and Bible study by many Christians.

Epistemology is the study of how we know things. It’s one of those words that until you read it a bunch of times in different settings and hear a number of people defining and explaining it, you will often have a hard time grasping what it really means.

How do we know things? Well, we just do, right? Not exactly.

In certain crowds, if I ask “How do we know?” I am likely to be told that we read the Bible. “God said it, I believe it, that settles it.” I’ve seen more than a few bumper stickers to that effect.

That may be a comforting way to end a discussion for some, but how do we know that the Bible’s statements are true? What do we do with phenomena about which the Bible does not speak? In other words, even if I accept the Bible as absolutely trustworthy in everything it addresses, how do I live in a world that is culturally unlike the Bible.

Additionally, how do I know that my reading of the Bible’s statements is correct? Exposure to individuals from other cultures will quickly reveal that different people perceive different symbols different ways. How can I know that I know what is true in the Bible is really true?

That last question reveals how strange the question can get really quickly. It’s easier to jump back to “common sense” where we simply accept the received wisdom from epistemic authorities—the people or institutions we trust—than ask this slippery question.

But what happens when manipulative predators realize that folks are going to take their word for it? And what happens when there are so many entities posing as epistemic authorities because of the information age that anyone can jump on YouTube and present themselves as an authority that anyone can find and some folks will believe?

You get the right epistemic mess that we are in, with conspiracy theories flying around a mile a minute, distrust in any group that does not agree with you or your in-group, and a failure to recognize that even with an authoritative text like the Bible, a reader can bring so many presuppositions to the table that he or she can entirely misread the message. It’s a pretty bleak situation.

However, there is hope. First, because we have a living and loving God who inspired the Bible and illuminates it, so that the person of the Holy Spirit will continue to work on the minds and hearts of those who are honest in their pursuit of holiness. Second, there is hope because of books like How Do We Know? An Introduction to Epistemology, which was just released as a second edition, by Jamie Dew and Mark Foreman.

How Do We Know? is an attempt to provide a resource on a tricky subject that does not require a background in philosophy to understand. The authors come at the problem head on in the first pages of the series introduction: “Many people today have embraced, often without realizing it, an approach to knowing reality that undermines their ever coming to truly understand it.”

The book asks a series of questions in each of its chapters:

What is epistemology? What is knowledge? Where does knowledge come from? What is truth, and how do we find it? What are inferences, and how do they work? What do we perceive? Do we need justification? [of belief, not soteriology] Can we be objective in our view of the world? What is virtue epistemology? Do we have revelation? How certain can we be?

That is a lot of questions for a very short book. In about 150 pages, the authors try to provide reasonable answers to each one of those difficult, but very important questions. They do quite well.

How Do We Know? is a good place to start in getting a foothold in what I believe to be one of the most important topics for our day. There are obviously some side, tribal battles that pop up and might be cause for disagreement among more experienced theologians and philosophers. For example, some Reformed individuals who have been exposed to presuppositionalism may find points of disagreement. However, on balance, the authors are fair in their dealing with the tribal disagreements within Christian philosophy. As a result, the 150-pages of this book may be more helpful to a beginner than the 400-page tome that is John Frame’s The Doctrine of the Knowledge of God, for example. Dew and Foreman wrote an introduction with all of its blessings and limitations. But it is a good introduction.

Even though this is the sort of book that is written specifically for those that have little background in philosophy, it requires either some scaffolding through a class or a decent education. This would make for an excellent undergraduate text, a useful volume for a small-group study with reasonably educated lay people—especially those who read. This is a book that would be well-placed withing a high school homeschool curriculum, particularly if a parent was available to help work through some of the hairy edges of the concepts. In other words, this is an accessible book, but the topic is very abstract and sometimes help is needed. Dew and Foreman have done about as well as can be done with an exceptionally important, but extremely difficult field of study.

One can hope that How Do We Know? gets a wide readership beyond academic settings. The church in general, and evangelical churches specifically, have a significant crisis of knowing, trust, and critical thinking on their hands. The answer is not more five-minute YouTube clips, but basic discipleship and training in how to process information, which is exactly what How Do We Know? provides.

How Do We Know? (Questions in Christian Philosophy)

By Dew Jr., James K., Foreman, Mark W.

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NOTE: I received a gratis copy of this volume from the publisher with no expectation of a positive review.