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I live in Salt Lake City, where the Mormon Church is headquartered. As you might expect, a certain amount of anti-Mormon sentiment centers here as well. In times of crescendo, one could forgive the casual observer for inferring that Salt Lake comprises naught but two, polarized, contentious populations. After all, the vast numbers of Mormons and non-Mormons who coexist problem-free tend not to make much noise.
One perpetually smoldering debate, its flame recently re-fanned by Mitt Romney’s White House aspirations, has to do with whether Mormons are Christians. Mormons believe in Jesus. That, they feel, along with the fact that the church’s official name happens to be The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, should settle the matter. Yet many Born-Again Christians maintain that, professed belief and official name notwithstanding, Mormons do not qualify. If you are a fan of the Skeptics’ Guide to the Universe’s “Name That Logical Fallacy,” you might enjoy a look at this teapot tempest. It is rife with special pleading, the No True Scotsman Fallacy, ad hominem attacks, begging the question and Argument from Authority, to name a few.
To those outside the fray, whether one group meets the other’s definition of “Christian” is more than moot. It is wasteful. The energy spent debating the unwinnable could have been invested in getting along as neighbors.
Moreover, if P.T. Barnum really did say that all publicity is good publicity, he was mistaken. History brims with publicity that catalyzed demises. With due respect to Barnum, I suspect that the squabbling over who is and isn’t a true Christian does little to help either side win acceptance, much less adherents.
Let’s not be smug. From time to time, we skeptics whip up teapot tempests of our own, equally rife with logical fallacies we so proudly claim to eschew.
I am not going to cite instances. I fear it would only bog us down in regurgitation and side-taking. Instead, I’m going to cite an experience at a recent social gathering. The host introduced me to the room, not discretely, as a skeptic. Almost immediately, I was peppered with questions as to the skeptical position on everything from the heritability of racism, to the effects of meditation, to the significance of dreams. So much for melting into the background as just another guest. As I did my ill-prepared and not terribly successful best to respond, it occurred to me that, while I have my own evidence-derived views on each of those subjects, asking for “the skeptical position” on any given issue begs the question. There is no skeptical position on any given issue; there is only the skeptical method. The method, as readers of this blog well know, consists of seeking evidence in order to arrive at an informed conclusion.
Readers here also know that agreeing to look at the evidence doesn’t ensure agreement on where the evidence leads. Yet, like Born-Again Christians who obsess on whether Mormons are true Christians, it can be tempting for skeptics to publicly and not very kindly challenge whether those who reject their own particular conclusions are true skeptics, and even, on occasion, whether they are decent human beings. Not infrequently, a blogospheric brawl follows.
In times of crescendo, one could forgive the casual observer for inferring that skepticism comprises naught but two, polarized, contentious populations. After all, the vast numbers of disagreeing skeptics who coexist problem-free tend not to make much noise.
To those outside the fray, whether one group meets the other’s definition of “skeptic” is more than moot. It is wasteful. The energy spent debating the unwinnable could have been invested in getting along as neighbors in the promotion of the skeptical method.
Moreover, with due respect to Barnum, I suspect that the squabbling does little to help skepticism win acceptance, much less adherents.
Perhaps even the term skeptical movement begs the question. We might do better to speak of the skeptical community. The admitted tiny word change might serve to remind us that we are neighbors, friends brought into proximity by our common interest in ferreting out facts, regardless of where the facts lead us individually.
Should you deem me presumptuous to lecture on the subject, well, I suppose that I am guilty as charged. If my presumption offends you, I wouldn’t blame you if you chose to read no further.
Steve Cuno, a three-time TAM speaker, is founder of the RESPONSE Agency in Salt Lake City. He admits to being better at telling others how to stay out of unwinnable frays than he is at staying out of them himself, as his having written this piece ironically attests. You can read Steve’s blogs by clicking here.
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