Trying Street Epistemology

Last friday after the office, I went through a shopping street on the way to a good restaurant, for some baked cheese.

A little detachment from a group missionary project was preaching about the prodigal son. I listened for a while, partly out of sentimentality (I know the group from way back), but also because I really like to discuss religion. Nobody approached me, and the sermon was boring, so I moved on.

A guy followed me and asked to talk to me.

He was very polite, to the point of sweetness, very honest, very thoughtful, and had not a bit of that dreadful arrogance that some religious youngsters tend to display when they think they found The Truth.

So I exercised a little bit of what I know from Boghossian's "Manual For Creating Atheists".

It was an interesting and weird experience. On the one hand, I guess you can plant some seeds of doubt in someone's head, which is obviously a good thing. But on the other hand, I ran into a severe case of bite inhibition. That guy was 18, 20 years old. I have it all thought out, time and time again, read about it, listened to talks and debates, written about it. It's just so easy to get a guy like that stunned, stuttering, unable to give a coherent answer. It's almost unavoidable, if you grill him too much.

Of course he had seen my funny walk. Of course he told me about some prayer, where he had prayed for someone and that person was healed. Of course I know the fallacies behind that. Of course I know that memory is a creative act, and anyway it's not proof of anything.

I had him talking about his epistemology, asking how we could distinguish between good and reasons for believing something. He was off his script, and he didn't have all the answers laid out. He had to think.

All of this is good.

But still...

I don't want to do that. I want an honest debate. I want to be on equal footing. I want someone who can stand up to me, challenge me, make me think. I can't have that if my interlocutor just has no chance, due to age and experience and years and years of education.

So I left. I politely refused his offer to pray for me, and we parted ways.