In his book, The God Delusion, Richard Dawkins attacks the idea of Intelligent Design (ID). In particular, he challenges Michael Behe’s idea that nature includes certain irreducibly complex mechanisms. Behe is a prominent ID proponent who believes that these mechanisms could not have been developed by Darwinian Evolution but instead contain elements that must have been designed.

Dawkins complains that Behe gives no arguments that any such mechanisms exist (Dawkins 157), but instead simply proclaims them by fiat (Dawkins 154). Behe is worshipping a God of the Gaps who is growing ever smaller as science is diminishing His realm (Dawkins 156).

Behe’s error, according to Dawkins, is that he cannot comprehend the analogy of “Climbing Mount Probable.” We observe complex mechanisms such as the eye. It seems like the Darwinian path from a lack of an eye to sight is a leap from one mountain top to another. Darwin shows us that there is a gradual path up the back of the mountain (Dawkins 147).

Dawkins argues against the irreducible complexity of eyes and wings. A cataract patient, having undergone surgery, can see enough not to bump into a tree. A creature with half a wing can use it to break a fall (Dawkins 149).

Behe proposed the bacterial flagellar motor as an irreducibly complex mechanism (Dawkins 156). Dawkins defines Behe’s concept thus: “The key to demonstrating irreducible complexity is to show that none of the parts could have been useful on its own” (Dawkins 158). Dawkins deals his coup de grace, revealing information of which Behe was apparently ignorant. Dawkins explains that protein molecules found in the flagellar motor are similar to the ones used by bacteria in the Type Three Secretory System (TTSS). “To the evolutionist it is clear that TTSS components were commandeered for a new, but not wholly unrelated, function when the flagellar motor evolved.” (Dawkins 159)

Dawkins finds ID to be self-defeating. It argues for the existence of God as a matter of probability. Dawkins observes, “However, statistically improbable the entity you seek to explain by invoking a designer, the designer himself has got to be at least as improbable.” (Dawkins 138) He goes on, “… however little we know about God, the one thing we can be sure of is that he would have to be very complex and presumably irreducibly so!” (Dawkins 151) Finally, “… the designer hypothesis immediately raises the larger problem of who designed the designer.” (Dawkins 188)

Dawkins quotes Daniel Dennett to make his point. Evolution counters one of the oldest ideas we have: “The idea that it takes a big fancy smart thing to make a lesser thing.” (Dawkins 142) Dawkins places this idea at the heart of the central argument of his book. (Dawkins 187)

Dawkins believes that Behe is embarrassingly ignorant of science, and quotes an attorney and judge to support his claim (Dawkins 157-160).

Dawkins complains that Behe and his associates are lazy and ignorant, and quotes an imaginary ID proponent to support his claim. “Don’t squander precious ignorance by researching it away. We need those gaps as a last refuge for God” (Dawkins 159). To further support his attack, he gives an imaginary argument about the irreducible complexity of the elbow joints of the fantastic creature, the lesser spotted weasel frog. Advocates of Intelligent Design fail to understand the power of Darwinism because they fill the gaps of our understanding of this non-existent creature with the machinations of God (Dawkins 152).

I did not make up that last argument. Dawkins actually quoted non-existent opponents. The biggest problem with arguing against imaginary people who say made up things about fictitious animals is that these things are not real. It just makes you look goofy. It is also an awful waste of ink and paper. Does Dawkins not realize that they cut down trees to print his books?

One of Dawkins’s most remarkable statements is that Behe does not give any arguments for why biological mechanisms are irreducibly complex. This is one of the most breathtakingly dishonest statements I have ever read. It may be possible to read Behe’s book, Darwin’s Black Box, and honestly disagree with the author’s conclusions. An honest reader could not agree, however, that Behe gives no arguments for his case.

One of the striking things about the book is that, while it is intended for a broad audience, he takes great effort to explain molecular biological functions in detail. In example after example Behe explains the specific machines he believes are irreducibly complex and why.  This detail is integral to every chapter in his book because, as Behe explains, a key component to irreducible complexity is that it is complex.

Behe and Dawkins both like to use allusions. One of the things that distinguish The God Delusion from Darwin’s Black Box is that the latter is brimming with facts.

Another kind of dishonesty is incorrectly defining your opponent’s position. Dawkins claims that if any piece of a larger mechanism could be used for another purpose, that mechanism is not irreducibly complex. This is an egregious misrepresentation of Behe’s ideas.

Behe initially defined Irreducible Complexity as, “A Single System which is composed of several interacting parts that contribute to the basic function, and where the removal of any one of the parts causes the system to effectively cease functioning” (Behe 39).

Behe gave the example of a mouse trap with a base, catch, spring, hammer and hold down bar. If you were to remove any one of those parts, it would cease to act as a mouse trap. The evolution of the mouse trap would depend upon the simultaneous appearance of five random mutations. Natural selection would strike down any mouse trap that did not have five lucky, simultaneous, random mutations. The purpose of the extensive detail in Behe’s book was to demonstrate that a large number of biological functions were similarly irreducibly complex on a molecular level. The only difference was that the molecular machines were many times more complex than the simple mouse trap.

Behe, of course, never argued that the parts of an irreducibly complex mechanism could not be used for any other purpose. The base of a mouse trap might be used for as a paper weight. Some of the proteins found in TTSS can also be used in the bacterial flagellar motor.

Dawkins’s TTSS argument is not the surprise coup de grace he imagines, but was instead precisely the kind of critique Behe anticipated in his book. “Even if a system is irreducibly complex … one cannot definitely rule out the possibility of an indirect, circuitous route. As the complexity of an interacting system increases, though, the likelihood of such an indirect route drops precipitously. And as the number of unexplained, irreducibly complex biological systems increases, our confidence that Darwin’s criterion of failure has been met skyrockets toward the maximum that science allows” (Behe 40).

Dawkins use of Mount Improbable to explain Behe is strange. Very early in his book, Behe gave a very similar analogy. The point of Behe’s analogy was that what we actually observe in molecular biology and biochemistry are not a set of mechanisms that were susceptible to gradual construction from minute changes. Instead, we observe a vast number of irreducibly complex, highly sophisticated molecular machines, requiring inconceivably high numbers of simultaneous random mutations.

Dawkins has the luxury of climbing mount improbable as a gentle slope precisely because he is using the hypothetical. Behe actually discusses the details of molecular biology, and recognizes the incomprehensible leaps that have to be made to make each machine work.

There is another striking feature to Dawkins’s criticism of Behe. Dawkins spends a considerable amount of time demonstrating that the eye or a wing are not irreducibly complex. This may or may not be so. We are given to wonder, however, with whom he is debating. All of Behe’s arguments deal exclusively with life on the molecular level. Another form of dishonesty, is attributing to your opponents arguments they did not make.

It is very surprising that Dawkins devotes so much space to quoting attorneys and judges to combat Behe. If Dawkins was arguing a point of jurisprudence, this would be understandable. Dawkins’s complaint with Behe, however, is scientific and philosophical. Incidentally, the attorney in question represented an opposing party in a case in which Behe testified. Opposing council is often the least objective party on the planet as it concerns unfriendly witnesses. This matter is especially egregious, since Dawkins attempts (unsuccessfully) to humiliate his intellectual opponent through such specious means.

One problem with Dawkins’s work is that he frequently uses terms that he does not understand, such as “God of the Gaps”. This phrase might explain an ancient man observing lightning and perceiving it as evidence for God. There is a gap in the ancient man’s knowledge which he fills with God.

This is the opposite of what Behe is doing. He is observing molecular phenomenon that he can describe in great detail, and recognizing in it signs of design.

One idea that is central to Dawkins’s thinking is the assumption that the thing that started the universe and the origin of life must be simpler than the thing created. Dawkins clearly regards this as an argument of such force that it deals a death blow to any argument for God.

It is obvious that Dawkins does not have any friends. If he had, then someone would have taken him to one of those wonderful science fiction films wherein the captain and that fellow with the pointy ears runs into alien technology that makes horrible squid like monsters appear like beautiful women just long enough for them to eat the brains of earthlings. If Mr. Spoock had read Dawkins book, he would have said, “this device could not have been made by an evil 10 armed alien, since that evil alien would have had to have been more complex than the device.” In that case, the captain would have been eaten, the movie would have been over in ten minutes, and science fiction would have died as a genre.

It is curious that Dawkins finds such power in this argument. It is startlingly unscientific. In every instance I can imagine, the agent that designs and creates a device or system, is always more complex than the device or system. The prehistoric men that struck particular kinds of stones to make spear heads were more complex than the spear heads. The ancient men who built the first pyramids were more complex than their buildings. Leonardo de Vinci was more complex than the Mona Lisa. Even the space station, in all its massive complexity, is simpler than one member of the army of engineers that designed it.

Using Dawkins’s rule, every time we found a new ancient city, we would have to assume that it was created through erosion, earth quakes or storms. The agent that created the city will always be more complex than the city itself.

Dawkins invents a special rule for the designer of life, who must be simpler than the thing designed. This is, of course, not an argument, but a statement. Dawkins spends a great deal of time repeating the statement, but does absolutely nothing to defend it.

Dawkins says that God is more improbable than Darwinian evolution. Typically, when scientists discuss probability, they do some math. Dawkins presents none. He does, however, do a great job of misrepresenting Intelligent Design.

Intelligent Design is, at its most fundamental level, not an argument that God exists as a matter of probability. Central to the argument of Intelligent Design is that design is something that we can recognize. An explorer finds a flat stone with unrecognizable indentations. Is it erosion or writing from a previously undiscovered language? Another explorer discovers something made of a metal alloy. It also includes regular rotary grooves. Is this a previously unknown tool or evidence of unusual volcanic activity? In both cases, we would conclude that the stone and the tool were created by a designer.

Dawkins’s final argument is that Intelligent Design raises the larger problem of who designed the designer. The observant reader will immediately recognize several massive problems with Dawkins’s objection. Imagine we apply this criteria to all discoveries.

A team of explorers discover an island with things that look a lot like abandoned buildings and stone tablets that look a lot like writing in a previously unknown language. The explorer returns to London and explains that he has discovered a new people group. Dawkins is in the audience and asks, “Where did the people come from? How did they get on the island? Since you cannot answer these questions, you have not found a new people group. You have only discovered unusual seismic activity.”

If the explorer could explain that the group came on canoes, this discovery would be nullified because he could not explain from where they came. If he could explain from which continent they came, this discovery would be nullified because he could not explain how they got on that continent etc.

Using this criteria, science would be impossible. Darwinism would be untenable, since we do not know the origin of the first ancestral life form.

Dawkins has missed one of the most elementary principles in the philosophy of science. In order to recognize an explanation as the best, you do not need to have an explanation of the explanation.

Finally, Dawkins is miffed that his opponents have not argued against their own case. He complains that Intelligent Design has not explained who designed the designer. In as much as he is addressing theistic ID proponents, and theism is the target of his book, Dawkins is babbling incoherently. The classical theist is trying to prove that a God exists who is omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, uncreated and eternal. Dawkins is angry that ID has not disproved the last two attributes. If God had a designer, he would be neither eternal nor uncreated.

This would be like Behe complaining that Dawkins had not disproved the efficacy of natural selection.

I am not cherry picking obscure arguments peripheral to the main theme of Dawkins’s book. These are among the arguments he trumpets as his tour de force, central to his thesis. The poor logic Dawkins employs at the very heart of his book is disconcerting. His mammoth ignorance of the faiths that he attacks is troubling. It is, however, Dawkins’s blatant dishonesty that is shocking.

In his book, The God Delusion, Richard Dawkins challenges what he calls the argument for God from Experience. People claim to see signs or hear voices from God or other celestial beings. While Dawkins uses the broad term experience, it is plain in his discussion that Dawkins is arguing against the narrower topic of miraculous signs or experiences. Dawkins is completely unimpressed with stories of miraculous signs or experiences.

Dawkins points out that some people claim to see pink elephants. Some people believe they are Napoleon or Charlie Chaplin. The Yorkshire Ripper heard the voice of Jesus telling him to kill women. When a few people hear voices or see visions, we call them insane. When a large group of people claim to hear voices or see visions, we call them religious. Dawkins believes that they both share irrationality.

Dawkins devotes a great deal of time to optical illusions. He believes that the human brain possesses “first-class simulation software” that creates these illusions (Dawkins 88). He describes a mask in his home. When the mask rotates, it appears to eat itself. If everyone understood psychology the way Dawkins does, they would realize that the visions they saw were simply optical illusions. People who interpret optical illusions as religious visions are simply gullible.

I first note that miraculous signs and visions are not the first line of argument pursued by Christian apologists. C. S. Lewis, Ravi Zacharias, Dinesh D’Souza and William Lane Craig do not regularly present contemporary eyewitnesses who believe they have seen or heard God.

That being said, the vacuous nature of Dawkins arguments become quickly apparent. The thing that separates the insane from the religious vision is not the frequent occurrence of the latter. The religious vision is one that is consistent with a comprehensible moral system. The insane vision is not. For example, a Christian religious vision is one that would conform to the moral system set forth in the Bible.

Dawkins inadvertently makes this point. Dawkins does not believe that God told the Yorkshire Ripper to kill women. Christians heartily agree. Why? The command the murderer received is inconsistent with the moral teachings of the Gospel.

Insane people hear voices that instruct them to kill their parents or their children. Believers hear voices instructing them to become ministers or open orphanages in Africa. There are non-believers who have aesthetic or philosophical objections to the latter. But only a very silly or dogmatic person could fail to distinguish the difference.

Occasionally insane people imagine they hear the voices of religious personalities. This does not make their visions religious. We know that Jesus did not tell the Yorkshire Ripper to kill women because the message was inconsistent with the teachings of the Nazarene. We can go to the Bible and quote passages that condemn the actions of the murderer. Notice that this argument does not depend on your belief in God. Both the Atheist and the Christian can agree that the Gospels condemn the murder of women. This is not a matter of faith. It is simply a matter of understanding the text.

Jody Foster may visit me in my dreams and instruct me to kill the President. If the assassin succeeds, the American people can hardly seek redress against Foster.

It is difficult to comprehend what Napoleon and Charlie Chaplin have to do with Dawkins’s argument. Dawkins has constructed an argument designed to challenge the testimony of Christians who claim to have seen or heard God. Is Dawkins also constructing an argument to challenge those who claim to be Moses? Dawkins is so anxious to associate religious people with insanity that he interjects random forms of insanity into his argument.

Dawkins’s discussion of optical and audial illusions is interesting. But it leaves us asking who is gullible. Dawkins is aware that optical and audial illusions exist. Of course, everyone you have ever met believes the same thing. People who have never seen angels believe their eyes can play tricks on them. People who claim to have seen angels agree. Possessing the same information about optical illusions as unbelievers, they still feel that they had a genuine experience with an angel.

Dawkins describes occasions when he thought he heard a voice or saw a vision. He explains how further investigation revealed that these were caused by natural phenomenon such as the wind blowing through a keyhole or a trick of the light. He then jumps to the fantastic conclusion that all voices or visions are the result of natural phenomenon.

Dawkins projects his childhood experiences upon all experiences of all people. There is no philosophical or scientific basis to suggest anything of the sort. On the contrary, historical evidence would suggest that people frequently have very different experiences.

I have never seen an angel. I would not give uncritical credence to someone who said that they had. But the proper response to such a conversation ought to be intellectual curiosity rather than dismissal.  Dawkins’s discussion on optical and audial illusions shines no new light on the subject.

There is one startling feature to Dawkins’s argument I have yet to mention. Dawkins is a scientist. Science is dependent on evidence. Everything we know about evidence we learn from our senses. Dawkins’s entire argument against miracles is that you cannot trust your senses. How then can he trust science?

Dawkins loves evidence: as long as the evidence supports his faith in Naturalism. I admire his faith. If only he had a greater commitment to evidence.

Richard Dawkins has taken some time to address some of the philosophical arguments for the existence of God. Some very old arguments were presented by Thomas Aquinas.

Aquinas observed that all things have a cause. The stone fell because the boy first dropped it. Of course, something also caused the boy to exist. We cannot go back indefinitely. There must have been a first cause. The first cause is God. Nothing is caused by itself. There was a time when nothing existed. The being that created everything is God.

Dawkins asserts that all of these ideas are dependent upon regress. Dawkins is unimpressed with the power of regression.

Dawkins first asks why God is immune from the regression. In other words, what created God? Dawkins then notes that the argument does not demonstrate the attributes of God: that he is omnipotent, omniscient, good or creative. Dawkins thinks it more helpful to regress back to the big bang or some yet discovered scientific theory. Finally, Dawkins notes that infinite regression is nonsense. He describes a recipe for Crumboblious Cutlets which requires the cook to cut beef into the smallest pieces and then cut them another nine times.

Dawkins’s objections reveal a startling misunderstanding of Aquinas’s line of reasoning. Let us examine his first point.

Aquinas is attempting to demonstrate the existence of the Christian God. The Christian God created all things. He stands outside of time and nature. He created time and nature. He is dependent on no one and nothing. Aquinas traces all causes back to the first cause: God. Dawkins question, “What caused God?” is no refutation to this argument. God is the one thing that, by definition, has no cause. In fact, if Aquinas obliged Dawkins and showed what caused God, he would disprove the existence of God.

Dawkins complains that Aquinas’s argument does not demonstrate that God is omnipotent, omniscient, good or creative. This assertion causes me to ponder whether Dawkins reads what he writes. Aquinas is trying to demonstrate that God created all things. In my mind, someone who created the universe is powerful, knowledgeable and creative. Dawkins is correct in asserting that this does not demonstrate that God is good.

However, this is, once again, no refutation of Aquinas’s argument. Every good argument does not answer every question. Aquinas is demonstrating through natural law and philosophy that the universe was the handiwork of a creator God. Such a God is described in Holy Scripture.

Aquinas is not relying on natural law and philosophy to describe all the attributes of God. These attributes are described in a special revelation from God contained in the Bible. In fact, Christianity presupposes that you cannot answer all questions through natural law and philosophy. If you could, there would be no need for special revelation.

Dawkins would prefer that we regress back to the Big Bang. He also believes that science will come up with a better explanation soon. However, these arguments do not help him at all.

If anything, the Big Bang supports Aquinas. According to Big Bang Theory, all things can be traced back to this singularity. Time, space and energy were created with the Big Bang. Before the singularity, nothing existed. But if nothing existed, what caused the Big Bang? It would have to be something that had no space or substance. It would have to be something that existed outside of nature and outside of time. For 2000 years Christians have been describing such a being. We call Him God.

Dawkins offers a promissory note. Science will soon have a better explanation. This is possible. But it is a terrible argument. We have to make decisions based on evidence that is available to us. It is foolhardy to make decisions based on evidence that may become available in the future. The person who invokes future evidence is always imagining evidence that will support his position. Because the imaginary evidence is always in his favor, it cannot be trusted at all and has no weight.

Finally, Dawkins decries Aquinas’s dependence on infinite regress. He mockingly evokes Edward Lear’s recipe for Crumboblious Cutlets. “Procure some strips of beef, and having cut them into the smallest possible pieces, proceed to cut them smaller, eight or perhaps nine times.” (Dawkins 78) He then declares, “It is by no means clear that God provides a natural terminator to the regresses of Aquinas” (Dawkins 78).

It is difficult to perceive the argument that Dawkins is trying to make here. Dawkins has desperately grasped upon the word regress and attempted to tie Aquinas’s argument with the absurdity of Crumboblious Cutlets. There are two problems with Dawkins argument.

First, the fact that regress makes Crumboblious Cutlets absurd, does not mean that everything with regress is absurd. Lear is pointing to the absurdity of cutting something that is the smallest possible piece. This is a logical absurdity. Aquinas is talking about tracing back all causes to a first cause. Aquinas’s first cause occurs in a finite (albeit distant) period of time. There is no logical absurdity in this.

It is a little surprising that Dawkins has attempted to confront the great philosopher with a poem from the genre of literary nonsense. Trying to comprehend the meaning of any such poem is dubious. Nonetheless, the absurdity of the Lear quotation depends on the fact that some things cannot regress forever. This is exactly the point that Aquinas is trying to make. Dawkins has attempted to confront Aquinas with a children’s poem that he himself does not understand.

Dawkins’s critique of Aquinas is dripping with sarcasm. This is a little surprising. Aquinas openly admits that his argument relies heavily upon the writings of Aristotle. Aristotle is sometimes regarded as the father of science.

Dawkins crows that he has demolished Aquinas. He has failed completely. Aquinas armed himself with Aristotle and reason. Dawkins put on the shield of derision and the sword of Crumboblious Cutlets.

(All citations are from The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins.)

Richard Dawkins received international acclaim for his book, The God Delusion. In it, Dawkins asserts that belief in God is a dangerous and absurd superstition. Dawkins abhors all religion. But he is not concerned with the scourge of Buddhism. His major target is Christianity.

His Oxford Colleague, Alister McGrath, answered with Dawkin’s God: Genes, Memes and the Meaning of Life. One of his observations is that Dawkins possesses a shallow understanding of Christian Theology.

To this criticism, Dawkins responded, “Yes, I have, of course, met this point before. It sounds superficially fair. But it presupposes that there is something in Christian theology to be ignorant about. The entire thrust of my position is that Christian theology is a non-subject. It is empty. Vacuous. Devoid of coherence or content. I imagine that McGrath would join me in expressing disbelief in fairies, astrology and Thor’s Hammer. How would he respond if a fairyologist, astrologer or Viking accused him of ignorance of their respective subjects?”

Most of us intuitively sense the dangers of writing about a subject with which we are ignorant. People who write cook books first study cooking. People who write computer books study computers. People who write books about birds first study birds. This rule applies to people who have both praise and disdain for the subject of their books. People who both admire and write about Reagan are at an advantage, because they have affection for their subject. But this does not excuse people who hate and write about Hitler from studying the facts about him.

People study the subject of their books because they want to be able to inform their readers. They also do not want to look silly. Unfortunately, Dawkins’s ignorance of Christianity causes him to make some silly statements.

Dawkins butchers both logic and the English language. Dawkins cannot distinguish between his disbelief in the subject of Christian Theology and recognition that Christian Theology is a subject. It is a subject that has influenced virtually every aspect of Western Civilization.

Christian Theology inspired western art for over a thousand years. It has, of course, influenced the content of what artists create. Consider the large number of works that are populated with biblical characters. Works that do not contain biblical characters, often possess Christian themes. But it also influenced the way western art was created. Consider the scripture “God is light, and in Him there is no darkness at all” (1 John 1:5). Consider the way Western artists have used light to convey themes like virtue, truth or liberty.

Christian Theology inspired Bach, Haydn, Handel and countless others to create exquisite works that glorified God. Where would Western music be without these works? Christian Theology teaches us to make music of great joy, “Clap your hands, all peoples! Shout to God with loud songs of joy!” (Psalm 47:1). Western music is brimming with Joy inspired by the worship of Jesus Christ.

The Bible is the most quoted work in all of Western Literature. No other text comes close. Christian symbolism is so prevalent that it even inhabits films produced by secular Hollywood. Consider the number of times the symbol of the cross appears in films as disparate as “Dances with Wolves” and “Alien 3”.

There is no area of Western art, architecture, culture, city planning or history that Christian Theology has not influenced. Dawkins’s dearest and most atheistic friends should encourage him to learn something about Christian Theology. Even if he did not embrace the faith, he could better understand some of the most beautiful works of Western Civilization.

Dawkins finds Christian Theology devoid of content. Has he never read C. S. Lewis? Has he not read Thomas Aquinas? Thoughtful Christian theologians span the centuries from St. Augustine in the fourth to William Lane Craig of the 21st. Dawkins presumably disagrees with these men. But these men are, by any measure, towering intellects. To call their writings vacuous reflects poorly on Dawkins’s intellectual honesty.

Finally, Dawkins once again butchers analogy. Dawkins’s ignorance of Christian Theology is not analogous to McGrath’s ignorance of Fairyology. In order for an analogy to work, the writer must show that two things are alike or analogous. The author and the audience must agree on the first thing. Their agreement on the first thing must illuminate confusion the audience may have about the second thing.

McGrath has not written a book about Fairyology. Dawkins can therefore not complain that he is ignorant of the subject.

More importantly, Christian Theology is not analogous to Fairyology. The source of Christianity, the Bible, is the most studied work on the globe. Christian Theology is one of the most exhaustively studied subjects in world history. Fairyology is so obscure that I have never met anyone who studied it. I am unaware of one book ever written about Fairies that even purported to be a serious study.

Finally, Fairyology is known by all parties to be untrue. Christian Theology is the most popular faith in human history. For this reason the analogy has no strength. Dawkins and his Christian audience cannot agree that Christian Theology and Fairyology are anything alike. What started as an argument is reduced to a crude and clumsy insult.

Dawkins wishes to prove that Christian Theology is untrue. He cannot. How could he? He doesn’t know anything about it.

In his book, “The God Delusion”, Richard Dawkins evokes the parable of the celestial teapot. The celestial teapot is an analogy made by Bertrand Russell. Russell wrote:

“Many orthodox people speak as though it were the business of skeptics to disprove received dogmas rather than that of dogmatists to prove them. This is, of course, a mistake. If I were to suggest that between the Earth and Mars there is a china teapot revolving around the sun in an elliptical orbit, nobody would be able to disprove my assertion provided I were careful to add that the teapot is too small to be revealed even by our most powerful telescopes. But if I were to go on to say that, since my assertion cannot be disproved, it is intolerable presumption on the part of human reason to doubt it, I should rightly be thought to be talking nonsense. If, however, the existence of such a teapot were affirmed in ancient books, taught as the sacred truth every Sunday, and instilled into the minds of children at school, hesitation to believe in its existence would become a mark of eccentricity and entitle the doubter to the attentions of the psychiatrist in an enlightened age or of the inquisitor in an earlier time.”

Dawkins uses Russell’s analogy as a critique of agnosticism, which he believes to be intellectually impoverished. However, Dawkins’s main point is the absurdity of the existence of God. He admits that he cannot disprove the existence of God. Neither can he disprove the existence of a celestial tea pot. Since the probability of one is on the par with the other, he has relegated God to the realm of Mother Goose and fairies.

Dawkins finds himself in a venerable pantheon of esteemed intellectuals who have retold the parable of the celestial teapot. The story is witty. It has even spawned children, such as the parable of the Flying Spaghetti Monster.

Unfortunately, the celestial teapot is a very weak argument against God. First, Dawkins is attacking a straw man. I have no doubt that some religious person at some time challenged Russell and Dawkins to disprove the existence of God. However, it is not the role of intellectual luminaries to attack the least educated in the opposing camp. It is their role to address the ideas of the intellectual giants of Christianity.

For Russell and Dawkins, there have been plenty of ideas to address. Russell might have addressed the arguments of C. S. Lewis. Dawkins might have addressed the ideas of Dinesh D’souza, Ravi Zacharias or William Lane Craig. These men provide numerous and eloquent arguments for the existence of God. Noticeably lacking in their arguments is the notion that it was “the business of skeptics to disprove received dogmas.”

You need not rely on these four men. The field of Christian Apologetics is a very rich two millennia. It does not consists of two thousand years of religious writers demanding proof of the nonexistence of God. It is puzzling why Russell and Dawkins should shut their eyes to two thousand years of thought to construct their straw opponent.

If the first part of Russell’s argument is weak, the latter half is catastrophic. He commits magnificent violence to analogy.

The central point of an analogy is to illuminate or clarify an idea by comparing it to a more familiar one. By showing that the familiar is analogous, or similar to, the idea lacking clarity, you illuminate the true nature of the unclear idea.

For example, imagine that Robert has written a high school book report about Richard Dawkins’s, The God Delusion. The book report includes many colored graphs that show the evils of religious people. It also includes pages of colored photographs of Richard Dawkins. Robert has even included a painting of Dawkins thwarting the attack of a Christian suicide bomber on a pizza shop in Indiana.

Robert’s mom, Martha, stays late one night to print her son’s report on her boss’s printer. While she is printing the 14^th photo of Richard Dawkins, the company accountant unexpectedly returns to the office. He wants to know why Martha is printing her son’s book report on the boss’s printer. Does she have permission?

“No,” Martha replies. “But I’m not hurting anyone. I’m only borrowing the printer. I am not taking anything.”

The accountant does not agree. The boss paid for the forty pages of paper. Martha is using ink. The accountant has had the printer repairman out every six months for the last three years. The accountant does some math in his head. He calculates that the boss is paying $9.63 to print Robert’s report.

The accountant asks Martha, “Would you take $9.63 out of the boss’s cash drawer?”

“Of course not,” she replies.

“Then how can you print that paper at the boss’s expense.”

This is a passable analogy. Martha is confused about the morality of using the boss’s resources for personal use. The accountant shows her that it is analogous to a more familiar act. Both the accountant and Martha agree on the moral implications of the familiar act. Martha is confronted with the implications of the unclear act.

How effective is Dawkin’s analogy? Dawkins wants to show that belief in God is absurd. He conjures a celestial teapot. He ridicules the idea that such a teapot could exist. He declares that the teapot is analogous to God. He declares victory by declaring God absurd.

Please note that this analogy does not possess the essential elements of the device. Dawkins does not introduce a familiar idea to clarify another. No one is familiar with celestial teapots. The idea is not familiar, but eccentric.

The device has no persuasion value at all. Martha and the accountant agreed on the moral, philosophical and ethical implications of stealing from the boss. Dawkins and his religious opponents do not agree on the moral or philosophical or scientific implications of celestial crockery.

Finally, God is not analogous to flying teapots. I suppose we could write a book on ways that teapots are not like God, but for the purpose of this Blog we will simply state that teapots are nor omnipotent, omniscient or omnipresent. In fact, this particular teapot is so small, it could be said to be apresent.

The parable of the celestial teapot does not succeed at attacking serious Christian apologetics. It does not succeed at analogy. At what then does it succeed?

It succeeds at wittily heaping derision on intellectual opponents. It is not an argument. It is a statement of blind disrespect. In other words, it succeeds at nothing. It is a waste of paper.