The God Hypothesis

Stumbling on Happiness

I just finished reading Stumbling on Happiness by Daniel Gilbert. It was a very intriguing book filled with interesting psychological studies and humorous relief.


When I was reading the book I came across some ideas that caused me to apply the way the brain works to how so many people happen to believe in God. I was going to go back through the book and put it all together as part of my (to borrow a phrase from my new blog friend - Thom Quinn) “God Hypothesis.” But then when I was doing a little research on Daniel Gilbert and his book, I came across his Study Guide, where there is a chapter by chapter synopsis and a reading list. By way of his reading list I found an article written Daniel Gilbert that explains it so much better than I ever could. Here are some excerpts:

When people look out on the natural world and declare that there must be a God because all of this could surely not have happened by chance, they are not overestimating the orderly complexity of nature. Rather, they are underestimating the power of chance to produce it.

Our tendency to underestimate the power of random processes to create order leads us to seek explanations where none are needed. Our tendency to be satisfied by well-formed utterances that are devoid of content compels us to accept explanations when none are provided.

Psychological research has uncovered a third tendency that may also play a powerful role in creating the kinds of experiences that compel people to believe in God: Things can be viewed in many ways, but human brains like the most rewarding view and thus they search for and hold on to that view whenever they can.

For instance, there are dozens of ways to see a marriage, a promotion, an illness, or a bankruptcy. When Shakespeare wrote “For there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so,” he was reminding us that events can be thought of in many different ways, and that the way we think of them - identify them, construe them, name them, explain them - determines whether or not we find them rewarding. The human brain tends to search for and hold onto the most rewarding view of events

Our ability to find and embrace the most rewarding view of the circumstances that befall us is nothing short of remarkable, which is why people adapt so quickly and so well to almost every form of tragedy and trauma. Indeed, a significant portion of those who survive major traumas not only do well, but claim that their lives were enhanced by the experience.

Fine. But what does any of this have to do with belief in God? As it turns out, most people do not know that their brains are designed to find and hold on to the most rewarding view of things. Most of the business brains do they do quietly, in the background, offstage, where we can’t observe it. As such, we are surprised when experiences we once feared and avoided turn out to be much less awful than we had anticipated, and we are deeply surprised when they turn out to be blessings in disguise.

Who knew that widowhood or divorce would be an opportunity to meet the partner of our dreams? Who knew that a heart attack or a prison sentence would lead us to refocus our lives and concentrate on the things that matter? And who knew - when we were making that agonizing decision between the Honda and the Mazda, between Cincinnati and Chicago, between the ballpark and the ballet or the asparagus and the artichoke - that this one would turn out be so obviously better than that?

Surprises such as these are curious events, and curious events beg for explanation. The proper explanation is that we have brains that avidly pursue the most rewarding view of things. Research suggests that people may mistakenly attribute the good fortune that is the natural product of a helpful brain to the intervention of a helpful agent. People can misattribute the uplifting work that their brains have done to a fictitious external source.

Brains strive to provide the best view of things, but because the owners of those brains don’t know this, they are surprised when things seem to turn out for the best. To explain this surprising fact, people sometimes invoke an external source - a subliminal message in the laboratory, God in everyday life. The universe is a complex place, that events within it often seem to turn out for the best, and that neither of these facts requires an explanation beyond our own skins.

Thank you Mr. Gilbert for saying it so succinctly.

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4 Responses to “The God Hypothesis”

  1. lil angel Says:
    June 6th, 2006 at 1:59 pm

    What you focus on expands. That applies to atheism as well. My happiness comes from knowing I am not alone, I am loved and that I have a greater purpose than just being a random gaterhing of electrons. I’m going to focus on that.

  2. Theresa Says:
    June 6th, 2006 at 3:50 pm

    When I believed in Christianity there came a point in my life where I began to ask questions and to focus on God in the bigger sense (as opposed to the fundamentalist view). I spent many years exploring and expanding my view of God and I grew to appreciate the more open views of Christianity and their more likeable God. Continued exploration and openness puts me where I am at today - even more open to another possibility: life without God. I spent many years completely focused on one side and now I am exploring the other.

  3. Mary Says:
    June 7th, 2006 at 11:07 pm

    A life without God? How sad. Thinking about life without God is like saying life without love, but worse. You can have love stop, family turn on you and people die, you might lose your mind never experience love at all. If this life on earth is all there is, then that is even more sad. Even if God was a myth, living a religous life is so much more fulfilling and satisfying. I use science everyday in my life, I study it and teach and I never see that believing in God and Science are opposites.

    To live for self and to be morally upright are opposites. We are biologically geared to be selfish, to keep the species going. Only religion helps people go beyond that. Sorry to say this Theresa, but from reading your blog and comments I can’t see where the relationship with God was, only your disappointment with an institution and the people.

    As an example, I could focus on my marriage for years, buy books that discussed it, talk to others about their marriage and still never have move beyond superficiality and have a real, loving relationship. The relationship is the interaction between the two people. It always makes me sad when I hear you or dad make comments about how this life is all there is. It makes sense that people who are religious spend their lives making sacrifices for others as that is what brings satisfaction and they know there is more than life here on earth

    lots of love from your wacky, afterlife believing, God loving, Thank (you know who) there is more to life than this world.

    Mary

  4. Theresa Says:
    June 14th, 2006 at 9:24 pm

    When I was a Christian I would have (and probably did) say the same things about someone like me. But here’s the thing I found out after my ordeal with dad - it is easy to make or let yourself believe anything. And when you believe, all signs point to that belief.

    I don’t know if you remember because you are just enough younger than me, but mom used to believe in astrology and white whitchcraft. So did my friend Toni. And when they were into that stuff, they were into that stuff. They believed and now they don’t.

    I understand how you can say I wasn’t really a Christian. It is easier to think that than not. But I really was a Christian. I believed and lived my life for God. I believed he was real and involved in my life. There were things I didn’t understand, but could trust that He did - His ways being mysterious and all. I prayed every day and I read and meditated on the Bible every day, too. I taught others, led Bible studies, was baptized in the Spirit, spoke in tongues, worshipped freely. I truly was a believer.

    So how could I let it all go? What changed my mind? It was a gradual process, but a lot of it had to do with dad. In my mind I was convinced that I was a victim of sexual abuse by him. I came to believe it in stages because I saw and experienced more and more “proof” that I had been abused.

    When I began to have doubts that it had happened (after I finished therapy and my support groups) I realized how easy it is for the human mind to be convinced of something. That always stays in my mind. I wrote this about the experience:

    “If anybody told me that the moment I started to ask questions everything I believed in would unravel, I’m not sure I would have been able to take that step. And yet, isn’t God big enough to handle all of our questions?

    It seems like once I started questioning, and I questioned the church, religion, my beliefs all at the same time, I couldn’t stop. One question led to another, one doubt expressed led to many more, one belief shattered rocked the foundation and more came tumbling down, one “rule” found to be untrue gave way to more.

    It was like I had a blanket, what I thought was a beautiful blanket, wrapped around me, protecting me from the elements.

    One day I noticed a loose thread and I picked and pulled at it and the blanket started unraveling. I tried to put it back, to weave it back in, but I couldn’t leave it alone.

    I picked at it and worked at it and asked other people if they saw it and pretty soon, bit-by-bit, the blanket got smaller.

    That’s OK, I said, I still have this much left. So I cut off all the loose yarn and tucked in the loose end. But pretty soon the loose end worked itself out and started bugging me so I began the process again, pulling and unraveling until I got out the pieces that no longer worked for me. I cut off the excess and tucked in the loose ends for safekeeping.

    Now my blanket was really small. I kept a hold of it like that for a while, but every time I’d take it out to use it that thread seemed to work itself out again. One day I couldn’t stand it so I picked and pulled again, until the whole thing came apart.

    I cut off a little thread and rolled it into a little ball. I keep it in my pocket for remembrance mostly. It can’t be called a blanket anymore. It’s not worth anything, it can’t be made into anything, it’s just there. If anybody asks I can say I have a little bit of it left, the starting piece of yarn, the foundation. But really, it’s just a piece of yarn, unraveled, no meaning.

    I’m just afraid of what people will say if I throw it all away. I’m afraid to admit to myself that I want to throw it all away. I call it god but with little letters.

    I don’t use it for anything; I never take it out of my pocket. If somebody questions me I say I’ve still got it. I say I choose to hang on to that part. I say I choose to believe in god. But certainly not the GOD of before, the GOD of rules and regulations, the nosy one, the all involved one, the one who makes men weak.

    I choose to believe in a force outside of myself that keeps things in motion from afar, one who set up the rules of the universe and lets us play them out. Sort of. I think. Is that yarn hanging out of my pocket?”

    I am still a good person, a giving person, one who strives to do right in this world. I still have all of the characteristics I had before. I am still me, but unattached to the feeling that there has to be something bigger or more to this life.

    Remember the feeling you had when you became a born-again Christian? I swear to you I had the same feeling when I finally could admit I wasn’t one any longer. I felt born again when I gave it all up. Weird, huh?

    Love back to you from your weird, non-believing, life-loving sister. Thank (whoever you want) we are in this world together and that we are family!

    P.S. ask Kelly about getting the “bejeezuz” scared out of her :-)

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