{"id":530,"date":"2007-10-16T22:06:27","date_gmt":"2007-10-16T22:06:27","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/scientopia.org\/blogs\/goodmath\/2007\/10\/16\/book-review-the-faith-equation-part-1\/"},"modified":"2007-10-16T22:06:27","modified_gmt":"2007-10-16T22:06:27","slug":"book-review-the-faith-equation-part-1","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.goodmath.org\/blog\/2007\/10\/16\/book-review-the-faith-equation-part-1\/","title":{"rendered":"Book Review: The Faith Equation (part 1)"},"content":{"rendered":"<p> A few weeks ago, I received an email about a new book, &#8220;The Faith Equation&#8221;, by Marvin Bittinger. Bittinger is an author of math textbooks &#8211; including, I think, my first calculus text. The book is supposed to be Bittenger&#8217;s explanation of how mathematics validates christianity. Needless to say,<br \/>\nI asked for a review copy &#8211; this is something right up my alley.<\/p>\n<p> I&#8217;ve taken longer to get around to reviewing it than I intended, but life&#8217;s been busy<br \/>\nlately. I&#8217;m going to review it in several parts: it&#8217;s too dense, full of bad arguments of so many different kinds that I can&#8217;t possibly do it justice with only one post.<\/p>\n<p> Today, I&#8217;ll cover the introdution and first two chapters: &#8220;The Beginning of a Mathematician&#8217;s Journey&#8221;, &#8220;Apologetics and Faith Axioms&#8221;, &#8220;Paradoxes in Mathematics and Christianity&#8221;.<\/p>\n<p><!--more--><\/p>\n<p> The introduction introduces the eponymous central idea of the book, the faith equation itself.<br \/>\nBittinger is extremely clear that he intends it to be metaphorical, rather than a really literal<br \/>\nmathematical statement &#8211; which is fortunate given how silly it is. The faith equation is: &#8220;Faith = Mind +<br \/>\nHeart + Will&#8221;. According to Bittinger, this means that really being religious has to have all of those elements. That&#8217;s fine as an argument, I suppose.. It&#8217;s definitely a Christian version of the idea, but since Bittinger is deliberately expressing a Christian viewpoint, that&#8217;s fine. On the other hand &#8211; when he&#8217;s writing an allegedly mathematical book, to deliberately put a non-mathematical idea into an <em>admittedly<\/em> meaningless pseudo-mathematical equation seems to be worse that silly. It&#8217;s inappropriate. It&#8217;s a sign of things to come: a huge part of the book is wretchedly pseudo-mathematical, presenting standard Christian arguments in pseudo-mathematical terms, in order to lend them the<br \/>\ncredibility of math.<\/p>\n<p> The rest of the introduction is Bittinger&#8217;s explanation of why he wrote the book. It&#8217;s pretty typical Christian apologetics. For example, he gives his version of the history of science:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>\nThe growth of scientific knowledge flourished; but in the process, humans &#8211; carried away with<br \/>\nnewfound intellectual power &#8211; began to conjure the notion that they could figure it all out by themselves<br \/>\nand no longer needed a concept of God. In effect, science became a god unto itself. Instead of pursuing God, man pursued science; science became a false idol, a false infinite so to speak.\n<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p> Standard stuff &#8211; the good old &#8220;science became a false idol replacing god&#8221; &#8211; how many times have we<br \/>\nheard that argument before? The problem with it is that it&#8217;s really meaningless. What does it mean<br \/>\nto say that science became a false idol? As far as I can tell, it means, roughly, that scientists are<br \/>\nvery bad for trying to understand the world. Wherever people used to attribute things to God,<br \/>\nif scientists are finding explanations that aren&#8217;t &#8220;God did it&#8221;, well then the scientists are<br \/>\nbeing bad people, replacing God with science. Seems like a remarkably silly argument: if you use your brain to explore the world and understand how things work, then you&#8217;re &#8220;worshipping a false idol&#8221;.\n<\/p>\n<p> Moving on&#8230; Chapter one. Chapter one has two themes: Bittinger&#8217;s explanation of the idea of apologetics, and his attempt to draw a parallel between mathematical arguments and apologetics by way of what he calls &#8220;Faith Axioms&#8221;.<\/p>\n<p> Apologetics, according to Bittinger, are <em>reasoned defenses<\/em> of Christianity. This book,<br \/>\naccording to Bittinger, is a work of apologetics. He goes on to present an apologetic argument, which is<br \/>\ntruly dreadful. He uses, as an example, an examination of the question &#8220;Could the resurrection of Jesus<br \/>\nhave been a hoax?&#8221;. Here&#8217;s his argument against it:<\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<p>Assuming you accept the reliability of the New Testament, let&#8217;s look at Matthew 28. Matthew was the<br \/>\nfirst of the four Gospels written and could be presumed to be the most accurate. In it, we&#8217;re told that on<br \/>\nthe Sunday after Christ&#8217;s crucifixion, Mary Magdalene and possibly other women went to the tomb. They<br \/>\ndiscover the stone displaced and no body remaining. The discoverer(s) of the empty tomb was a<br \/>\n<em>woman<\/em> or <em>women<\/em> depending on which Gospel you read. In the society of that day, women<br \/>\nwere held in very low regard. If the disciples were attempting a hoax, wouldn&#8217;t they have sent men to<br \/>\ndiscover the empty tomb? The men would have commanded a higher level of believability.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p> That is his example of <em>good<\/em> apologetics. That&#8217;s also what&#8217;s known as &#8220;a spectacular display of ignorance masquerading as knowledge&#8221;. Jesus was, supposedly Jewish, living in Israel. Touching<br \/>\na dead body is a <em>bad<\/em> thing according to traditional Judaism. Dealing with the dead is<br \/>\nunclean, and anyone who does it becomes ritually impure, and must go through a cleansing process. Most tasks that would involve contact with a tomb are things that the supposedly righteous men that surrounded Jesus <em>would not do<\/em>. As the authors of the Gospels would have known. Having a prostitute<br \/>\nbeing the one to do it makes perfect sense in the light of the culture of the time: a prostitute is<br \/>\nalready pretty much as impure as anyone could get.<\/p>\n<p> That&#8217;s all I&#8217;ll say about his introduction to apologetics. From there, he moves on to the<br \/>\nallegedly mathematical part: the idea of faith axioms. He spends a lot of time explaining<br \/>\nthe idea of axioms in mathematics, and then goes on to say that religious faith can be based<br \/>\non axioms as well; and that proofs about matters of faith come down to the faith axioms. The<br \/>\nfaith axioms strengthen the <em>mind<\/em> part of his &#8220;faith equation&#8221;.<\/p>\n<p> I&#8217;m sort-of sympathetic to the basic concept of &#8220;faith axioms&#8221;. The concept is basically<br \/>\none that appeals to a mathematical type. If you bore down through your beliefs, whatever they may be,<br \/>\nif they hold together logically, you should come to some fundamental set of basics that define them,<br \/>\nand those are the &#8220;axioms&#8221; of your worldview. That idea isn&#8217;t specific to the religious: any<br \/>\nintelligent atheist, any intelligent agnostic, anyone who&#8217;s really thought about things, and<br \/>\ndeveloped a consistent concept of how they think the world works, has some fundamental set of axioms<br \/>\nat the core of that concept. Since he&#8217;s writing from a Christian perspective, it&#8217;s fine to call them<br \/>\n&#8220;faith axioms&#8221;, although I&#8217;d probably be more inclined towards &#8220;philosophical axioms&#8221;, or<br \/>\n&#8220;worldview axioms&#8221;.<\/p>\n<p> Unfortunately, it turns out that that&#8217;s not what he means. He wastes a whole lot<br \/>\nof verbiage talking about the idea of axioms in math, and their parallels in axioms<br \/>\nof faith. But then, at the very end of the chapter, he includes a &#8220;final comment&#8221;:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>\nA final comment on the word &#8220;proof&#8221; or &#8220;prove&#8221; is in order, especially for mathematicians,<br \/>\nbefore we continue. The apologetic arguments in this book are not deductions of theorems<br \/>\nfrom a finite set of axioms as is normally expected in mathematics. Instead, all kinds of<br \/>\narguments &#8211; inductive, statistical, and even metaphorical &#8211; will be used to point you towards<br \/>\na position of faith from a position of non-faith. The theorems we come to will all be<br \/>\ncalled faith axioms.\n<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p> In other words: &#8220;Please forget the last 24 pages of gibberish. That stuff is all there<br \/>\njust to make it look like I&#8217;m being all mathematical, but really, I&#8217;m just talking<br \/>\nout my arse, using mathematical terminology to make it look all impressive-like.<\/p>\n<p> Damn, but that paragraph pisses me off. It&#8217;s the point where the book moves from<br \/>\nan honest, if annoying, work of christian apologetics, to a <em>dishonest<\/em> book<br \/>\nthat tries to exploit the terminology of mathematics to give its arguments more credibility<br \/>\nthan they deserve.<\/p>\n<p> Let&#8217;s move on &#8211; one more chapter to cover today. Chapter 2, &#8220;Paradoxes in Mathematics and Christianity&#8221;. This one doesn&#8217;t take nearly so long to discuss, because it&#8217;s a pile of transparent rubbish.<\/p>\n<p> He wants to use the idea of <em>paradox<\/em> to build his faith axioms; the idea is that struggling with a paradox can lead you to some kind of enlightenment. Except that he cheats.<\/p>\n<p> He redefines the word paradox &#8211; sometimes. He uses it to mean what philosophers<br \/>\nmean by &#8220;dialectic&#8221;, and he also uses it to mean mathematical contradiction, and he also<br \/>\nuses it to mean arbitrary pairs of things that he&#8217;d like to set against one another for no particular reason at all. And he<br \/>\nshifts it back and forth. It&#8217;s the same old game: misuse the terminology of math<br \/>\nto try to make lousy arguments look less lousy. To give you an idea of how sloppy this<br \/>\nchapter is, here&#8217;s a list of &#8220;paradoxes&#8221; that he gives in the introduction to the chapter:<\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<ul>\n<li> Natural vs. Supernatural<\/li>\n<li> Deism vs. Theism.<\/li>\n<li> Believing vs. Questioning.<\/li>\n<li> Passing a treadmill test vs. five weeks later having a heart attack.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p> Anyone out there think that any of those are paradoxes?<\/p>\n<p> He moves on to another set of examples: a bunch of people who he asked &#8220;What&#8217;s the best and worst part of your job?&#8221;. He took the best parts and the worst parts from their answers, and said that each<br \/>\nof those was a personal paradox.<\/p>\n<p> Then there&#8217;s a bunch of lists of his supposed paradoxes &#8211; a discussion of paradoxes in mathematics, based on proof by contradiction, and then a bunch of his cheap apologetic arguments which are<br \/>\nstructured to look like the mathematical proof by contradiction, but are really nothing more than<br \/>\nthe same old nonsensical hand-waving.<\/p>\n<p> This chapter is painful. It&#8217;s sad &#8211; Bittinger is (or at least was) a smart guy, who wrote<br \/>\nsome good textbooks. That he could write this, and think that he was doing something<br \/>\nworthwhile, that this kind of sloppiness and dishonesty was justified and could accomplish<br \/>\nanything &#8211; it&#8217;s just pathetic.<\/p>\n<p> Fortunately, later sections of the book get funnier. Not better &#8211; just funnier. Wait<br \/>\ntill we get to his take on Dimensions and String theory!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>A few weeks ago, I received an email about a new book, &#8220;The Faith Equation&#8221;, by Marvin Bittinger. Bittinger is an author of math textbooks &#8211; including, I think, my first calculus text. The book is supposed to be Bittenger&#8217;s explanation of how mathematics validates christianity. Needless to say, I asked for a review copy [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[16],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-530","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-debunking-creationism"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p4lzZS-8y","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.goodmath.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/530","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.goodmath.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.goodmath.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.goodmath.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.goodmath.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=530"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/www.goodmath.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/530\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.goodmath.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=530"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.goodmath.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=530"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.goodmath.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=530"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}