Skeptical skeptics skeptically skeptical of skepticism

Skeptical skeptics skeptically skeptical of skepticism

Michael Shermer is sort of a funny guy, for a skeptic.

I recently watched an old 2008 TED talk he gave on junk science, miracles, etc.  He is good-naturedly arrogant and smilingly condescending to his audience of like-minded materialist progressives.  I mean, we are all good-natured when we are amongst our tribe, right?  (I will write more on tribalism in another post.)  I really liked the talk, which you can view for yourself here.  It was funny and engaging and a little bit embarrassing on behalf of the gullible people who believe strange things.

But what qualifies as “strange”?  And what qualifies as worthy of ridicule or skepticism?  Michael Shermer and all the Michael Shermers out there have their opinions, and they are entitled to them.  And there are hosts of others who disagree with the Michael Shermers about their skepticism, some of the time or all of the time.

This post is not about whether Shermer is right or wrong, or whether he smuggles into his work a priori materialist commitments which cloud his own conclusions (obviously, he does).  Rather, this post intends to be about a tactic employed by critics, skeptics, and debaters everywhere at various times.  If you watch Shermer’s TED Talk, you will witness this tacts at about the 3:45 mark, when Shermer uses a somewhat famous Sidney Harris cartoon.  The cartoon is a funny bit of shorthand which has the multi-faceted purpose of making fun of logical leaps of all kinds. 

Shermer uses the cartoon to (in his words) “completely dismantle the intelligent design arguments”.  The line got laughs and applause, which is not surprising, given the likely predisposition of his audience.

It reminds me of Lloyd Benson’s brilliant one-liner at the hapless Dan Quayle’s expense.  In a televised debate, when Vice Presidential candidate Quayle defended his age and experience by noting that John F Kennedy was of similar age when he because President, Benson gave his famous mic dropping retort:

"Senator, I served with Jack Kennedy. I knew Jack Kennedy. Jack Kennedy was a friend of mine. Senator, you are no Jack Kennedy."

Like Shermer’s line, it roused the crowd.

But does it refute?  Does it make an argument?  Of course, Dan Quayle is no Jack Kennedy.  He’s not Irish Catholic.  He is not the scion of America’s then-first family.  His father is not a bootlegger and criminal.  He is not a womanizer of epic proportions.  There are so many ways that Dan Quayle was no Jack Kennedy.  And yet as put-downs go, it was remarkably memorable and powerful.  Quayle supporters reeled and Benson supporters rolled.  But what of the quip?  Does it demonstrably advance an argument and support it with defensible answers? 

In 1992, we were a vastly different culture.  The Internet and Social Media and Reality television had not yet corroded the American mind.  But even then, we were prone to worship of mic drop moments such as this.  And that is what Shermer’s line is about intelligent design.  He dismisses them with scorn and derision and no little bit of straw man creation.  Easy to win when your opponent is a straw man. 

And humans seem to be an easy mark for the sort of polemical and rhetorical fireworks which have more flash and little substance.  We have been probably for a lot longer than we have recorded history.  Going back in time to the early days of the Church and one of the primordial heresies, we use the attraction of flash.

The teacher’s name was Arius, and he was reaching a startling and novel conclusion about the nature of God and the origin of Jesus the Son of God.  If Jesus was “begotten” (the only begotten of the Father), it means that there was a time before he existed: a time when he was “not”.  There are doubtless deep theological underpinnings to Arius’s heretical conclusions, and the quarrel between Arius and his followers, and the orthodox faithful, led by Athanasius and Alexander. 

The popular appeal of Arius and his heresy was not the answers to deep theological questions, but rather the memorably shallow way in which his message was conveyed to the common folk: a memorable little jingle passed on from person to person, like an earworm from a popular advertisement.  “There was a time when the Son was not.”

It’s got a great beat, and you could dance to it.

Long on flash, but it’s pretty short of substance.

In other words, it’s Michael Shermer and the Sidney Harris cartoon, or Lloyd Benson and his mic drop moment.  It scores points, as in an epic rap battle, but it does not refute an argument.  A “gotcha” moment may be entertaining for the audience, but it does not really win the argument.

The Scriptures tell us to be ready to give an answer for the hope that lies within us; there really are not any recommendations for offering mic drop put-downs of competing ideas.