Davis and the FAQs

I will "officially" begin work on my sponsored book On the Historicity of Jesus Christ next Monday (May 26). I've already begun writing and spent a few related days at the library, but the big push starts next week.

This will put on hold a revision of the FAQs for my chapters in The Empty Tomb: Jesus Beyond the Grave. These have been up for years now, though not many people know they exist, since they haven't been catalogued anywhere but at the very bottom of my Naturalism as a Worldview page (and more recently in the margins of this blog), and on the official website for the book set up by Jeff Lowder--though not many people even know that exists, either (see: The Empty Tomb Official Companion Website).

As of last week I was half-way through an update of these FAQs. So I have posted the updated pages now (see Richard Carrier's FAQs). There are many additions planned, but you can at least benefit from those completed so far. The most notable update is a reference and link to my response to renowned Christian scholar Steven T. Davis, who published a respectable critique of The Empty Tomb in the journal of the Evangelical Philosophical Society, Philosophia Christi, two years ago (so far the only critique in print worthy of a reply). I've had my response to this up now for nearly two years, but since it isn't catalogued anywhere (not even on my FAQs--until now), very likely few even knew of it.

Since this may be news to many of you, I invite everyone who is interested to read it, especially if you've read The Empty Tomb and are wondering about the Christian response (apart from the lambaste of hacks and demagogues), but even those who haven't read Empty Tomb might be able to follow along and gain something from my reply. See: Stephen Davis Gets It Wrong (2006).

From Catapults to Cosmology

This year I've read several really excellent books in my field. Three I'd like to share with you. Here in the past I wrote about my recommended Books on Ancient Science. The following are somewhat related to the same topic. All are highly recommended, at least if the subject material interests you in any bit. But I doubly recommend them not only because their scholarship is superb and thoroughly up-to-date (they currently have no peer), but also because they are so well written they read like a dream. Though all bog down occasionally in technicalia, those bumps and boggles are relatively scarce. Most of their content is easy to read, even delightful to read, and full of fascinating stories and facts. These are the kinds of authors I wish I were, and strive to be. All three books are entirely approachable to laymen, yet all are advanced, cutting-edge works, and will be required reading for experts in their respective subjects for decades to come.

Catapults

Catapult: A History by Tracey Rihll (2007). Some of the best work in the history of ancient science and technology these days is being done by women. From Marianne Stern in the area of ancient glassmaking technology to Karin Tybjerg in Roman mechanics and philosophy of technology, Sylvia Berryman in ancient physics and mechanics, Astrid Schürmann in Roman mechanics and engineering, Liba Taub in astronomy and meteorology, Tamsyn Barton in astrology, Georgia Irby-Massie in alchemy, Adrienne Mayor on ancient geology and paleontology, Joyce Reynolds and Mary Beagon on Roman natural history, and of course Serafina Cuomo in ancient mathematical sciences, whom I'll be discussing next, and our present author: Tracey Rihll.

Rihll is a senior lecturer in the Department of Classics and Ancient History at Swansea University (UK). You may recall she wrote a very good (albeit much too brief) primer on Greek Science (reviewed in my last post on this subject). Well, now she has gone to the other extreme, producing literally the most comprehensive book on ancient artillery ever written (and possibly ever to be written), and outdoing herself in every category.

Rihll tells great stories, and she tells them well. She marshals facts so numerous and thorough, from such a wide span of disciplines, as to leave almost no possibility of rebuttal, including superb and virtually complete discussions of the literary and archaeological evidence, tying both together. She covers everything you could ever want to know about ancient catapult development, from the pre-catapult days of ordinary slings and arrows, through the Hellenistic and Roman periods of advancement, and on up to late antiquity. She cites or discusses pretty much every book or article of any worth on the subject ever written. She discusses not only the history but also the science of projectile weaponry, and how the two illuminate each other, and she even links her results to broader questions of ancient technological progress and the philosophy of technology. And all this in under 380 pages.


The ancient catapult was one of the most advanced technologies ever produced before the Renaissance. Though popular imagination thinks of a catapult as some sort of medieval, one-armed tosser (more commonly known as an onager, shown to the right above), the most common catapult in antiquity (though they had onagers and probably invented them first) was the two-spring double-armed shooter (example to the left), which resembled something like a bulky and elaborate crossbow powered by what almost look like upright wood-and-rope shock absorbers. The ancient Greeks experienced a veritable arms race in the development of this vital military weapon, inspiring the earliest example of state-funded scientific research and development, with the specific aim of using technological advancement to gain a military advantage. And as Rihll shows, it changed the world.

In her study of this machine there are two things Rihll accomplishes of particular note (apart from producing a fully up-to-date synthesis of the whole of catapult history that reflects all the new developments in the field that few careful observers may already have known about from otherwise scattered reading). First, she establishes beyond doubt that catapult technology advanced considerably and importantly during the early Roman Empire (something that had often been denied), including the best case yet that they developed the metal-framed inswinger catapult, greatly magnifying power output (and leaving many modern reconstructions obsolete). Secondly, she also establishes beyond doubt the widespread use of small hand-held torsion catapults. In other words, the ancient equivalent of rifles (examples with three-foot stocks, for example, being commonplace), and even handguns (with models as small as nine or ten inches in total length).

The latter is perhaps the most astonishing. Expert observers will already have heard of growing evidence of Roman advances, but might have missed entirely the evidence of small catapults--yet as Rihll reveals, the evidence is surprisingly vast, if you know where to look for it, and what to look for. These weapons were apparently abundantly supplied in the Roman legions, and were so powerful that a typical stone-throwing smallarm could penetrate a human body with a lead bullet at a hundred yards--scaring the hell out of otherwise fearless Gauls, for example, who got totally freaked out when Roman bullets at such unbelievable range went right on into their bodies and didn't come back out again. In the modern age of firearms we take such an effect for granted, but you can imagine how terrifying it would be in a world that had never heard of such a thing.

Rihll conclusively proves that what we call a crossbow (sometimes still claimed to be a medieval invention, although the ancient Chinese had independently invented them as well) was already in existence by the time of Alexander the Great. And not merely in the form of what is technically called a bellybow (a kind of super-crossbow the sight of which would freak out the squares even today--in somewhat the same fashion, and being somewhat the same size and terrifying appearance, as the Bren Gun wielded unexpectedly by a doped-up hippy chick in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels), but also in pretty much the same form known in the Middle Ages.

However, Rihll then demonstrates that the Greeks had already surpassed medieval crossbow technology by the time the Romans were arriving on the world scene. The ancients by then had weapons far more powerful, yet whose technology would be entirely forgotten in the Middle Ages. Though the ancients had and used metal springs (even in artillery), there is no conclusive evidence they had metal spring crossbows (though Rihll presents evidence of metal bows, and if you have those, why not metal crossbows?). But they might not have considered them worth the bother, since they had something better: the torsion catapult, which used springs of prepared hair or sinew that were actually much stronger than even modern springsteel (much less ancient or medieval spring metals). They were highly sophisticated machines that required considerable technical knowledge and ability to construct, but once you did, you had the most powerful missile weapon on earth before the rise of gunpowder.

Roman legionnaires employed such portable torsion "crossbows" in various sizes, from two-man cart-mounted units (the ancient equivalent of mobile gunnery) down to man-carried units (again) equivalent to rifle or even handgun size. Of course, besides these, they also employed a whole arsenal of larger catapults that required entire crews to operate, some actually mobile (in ox-pulled carts) and others portable only after disassembly, and some of those over 35 feet in length of stock, firing stone cannonballs up to nearly two hundred pounds weight as far as 400 yards, if you weren't too particular where the missile fell, or with impressive accuracy up to 200 yards, and with sniper precision up to 100 yards or more. The Romans, taking a cue from the Greeks before them, had standardized weapon design so the maximum and effective ranges of all weapons of all sizes were more or less the same, which meant even the "handweapons" were bewilderingly powerful. Hence the freaked out Gauls.

These small torsion catapults, like all ancient catapults, could be designed to fire bolts (thick, vicious arrows) or bullets (most commonly ovoid stone or lead pellets mass produced to a loose standard in numerous calibers not very different from modern jacketless bullets) or both, as well as an array of specialized missiles for any particular occasion. Though they had a cross-shape, much like a crossbow, they did not use "bows" for their springs, but upright cylinders of rope held taught in their housings and twisted back to provide driving force to the "arms" of the catapult (and thence to the "bowstring" or "slingstring" that launched the projectile). Since pound-for-pound this mechanism was more powerful than springsteel, it was more efficient than metal bow springs, able to store massive amounts of energy in a very small space. Needless to say, the ancient torsion "crossbow" was truly a marvel to behold.

You can read all about this and tons more cool stuff in Rihll's awesome book. But don't expect a history of siege warfare or even siege weapons here. Her book's focus is squarely on only one weapon: the catapult (though with considerable attention to the changes in fortifications it inspired). But though that singular focus might suggest it would be boring, limited, and technical, it actually brings her to discuss numerous facets of ancient history, culture, society, and technology, very entertainingly, and almost always readably even for non-experts. Her discussions of the sociology of ancient weaponry alone are worth the reading, even if you think weapons themselves are dull tea.

Technology

Technology and Culture in Greek and Roman Antiquity by Serafina Cuomo (2007). In this unique and interesting book, Cuomo (a professor of ancient science and technology at the University of London) analyzes ancient attitudes towards technology and craftsmen in five different ways, and in the process reveals numerous different aspects of ancient society and culture that are all in themselves well worth the read, even apart from their connection with technology. I learned much from it, and I think every chapter will leave you knowing a lot more about ancient culture that you won't have learned anywhere else.

In chapter one, Cuomo analyzes debates in Classical Athens over the definition and value of "art" or "skill" and the underlying social tensions these debates reflected (finding that craftsmen were not so marginalized as historians usually now claim); in chapter two, she analyzes how Hellenistic advancements in war technology caused an upheaval in social values that had transformed attitudes towards technology and science by the dawn of the Roman era (supplementing and corroborating Rihll in important respects); in chapter three, she analyzes how funeral iconography employed by Roman artisans can be interpreted to reflect the values and attitudes of their social class (picking one particular example: depictions of the set square); in chapter four, how the attitudes of (and toward) Roman survey engineers, and their role in resolving ancient land disputes, can (or can't) be inferred from surviving inscriptions of the early Empire; and in chapter five, how everything changed in the era of medieval decline, even amidst pockets of surviving genius within the Byzantine Empire (a treatment of the East rather than the West that is itself almost novel in the study of ancient technology, and illuminating for that very reason).

Though these five chapters are really independent essays, paradigmatic examples of how Cuomo wants to see the myriad other subjects in the history of ancient technology written, and thus very different from each other in the questions asked and aspects studied, they do carry through a common theme, each in its own way. Her main objective is to show that there was no uniform "attitude" among any class in antiquity toward technology or craftsmen, that some among the literate elite could get all snooty over it, while others could hobnob with mechanics and experts and praise their contributions to society, and a whole complex spectrum in between.

Cuomo's collection of essays is required reading for anyone who wants to understand ancient attitudes toward science and technology, and useful as well for anyone who wants to see various and fascinating aspects of ancient culture that you probably won't see summarized elsewhere (especially for laymen). In fact, in various different ways she situates technology as an inseparable part of Greco-Roman culture that has all too often been overlooked by other historians, passed off as some sort of specialization that classicists need not concern themselves with. She refutes that notion quite decisively here. And at only 210 pages it is also quite short.

I should note that I disagree with her mildly on some few issues that will become clear in my own future book The Scientist in the Early Roman Empire, but also on one particular issue that I won't address there (as it falls outside the period my book will cover): her theory that engineering must have gained in prestige in the Byzantine Empire because engineers seem then to be increasingly and almost exclusively found among the governing elite (rather than coming up from the ranks of the ancient equivalent of the educated middle class, as had been the dominant case in previous eras). This is a non sequitur, and fails to be supported by other evidence (especially when compared with evidence for the previous period). I suspect what had actually happened was a worsening decline in the education system, such that only the highly privileged (and well-positioned) elite could get the requisite education to become a competent engineer--or worse, those outside the upper elite increasingly lost interest or faith in the pursuit of engineering as any sort of worthwhile goal, forcing a few keen minds in the aristocracy to take it up themselves simply to get things done.

Apart from her lone theory of a rise of prestige for engineers that I find untenable, she otherwise demonstrates several elements of decline in the engineering industry in the more advanced Byzantine Empire, already in the early Middle Ages, and her treatment of late antiquity is solid and informative. Every chapter, in fact, has something valuable or even essential to offer, and serves as a nice sampler of how to do history even when it's hard.

Cosmology

Creationism and Its Critics in Antiquity by David Sedley (2008). This is a brilliant work, another series of Sather Lectures that astounds and defines a field, as so many have before, and it will, like the books above, become required reading for anyone interested in ancient cosmology, Presocratic philosophy, or the early origins of scientific thought. In fact, even though this book treats only one specific subject (Greco-Roman theories of the origin of physical and biological order in the universe, and ancient debates surrounding those theories, and the underlying assumptions behind those debates), it is so vastly superior to M. Rosemary Wright's Cosmology in Antiquity (reviewed in my last post on this subject) that I recommend reading Sedley's Creationism instead, at least for a start.

This book's relevance to the history of science is clear throughout, bearing not only on the transition from mythic to naturalistic explanation in the Presocratic era, but also on continuing debates thereafter between godless and divine theories of cosmic design, all the way into the Roman era. Sedley, a renowned expert in Hellenistic philosophy (who as Laurence Professor of Ancient Philosophy at Cambridge has recently been carving out an additional reputation as an expert on the Presocratics), includes chapters analyzing in detail the cosmogonic and biogenic theories (as far as we can reconstruct them) of Anaxagoras, Empedocles, Socrates, Plato, The Atomists, Aristotle, The Stoics, and finally (though most briefly) Galen.

This book does not discuss Jewish, Christian, or any other religious theory of creation, and it isn't comprehensive even among the pagan philosophers. However, it does discuss the most prominent godless theories of cosmogenesis (among the ancient atomists, from Democritus to Epicurus and Lucretius, though Sedley rightly proves they did not propose evolution theory as we understand it, despite what some have said) and what was in effect a form of ancient Deism or Pantheism (among the Stoics and possibly Galen). He also decisively proves the novel thesis that all ancient theories (apart from those of the atomists) were fundamentally religious, in the philosophical sense that they all incorporated intelligent design at some level. And yet ancient theories were surprisingly diverse in the many ways this was imagined to have occurred, thus challenging modern monolithic thinking among creationists as to what the options really are. Even the atomists advanced theories that do not correspond at all with modern evolution theory and yet rationally entail evident design without, in fact, any design at all.

But the most revolutionary (and yet entirely persuasive) proposal of this book is that most of the Presocratic cosmologies, often thought to have eliminated the divine (by scholars who thus imagine the Presocratic philosophers as the progenitors of modern naturalism and scientific atheism, as in a sense they are), actually instead subordinated the divine to rational scientific theory. Instead of radically splitting with mythological and sacred narratives, the Presocratic cosmologists concluded that God or gods were still involved, but the creation process could only be properly inferred from the available empirical evidence, and not learned from oracles, revelation, or sacred tradition. This led to increasingly naturalistic explanations that gradually replaced divine fiat and "just so" stories with appeals to intelligible systems of cause and effect. Thus scientific thinking originated within pagan religious thought, and continued living there quite comfortably.

But apart from that revelation and its implications, the best thing about this book are all the crazy, bizarre, interesting stories and examples that Sedley digs up from ancient sources, including arguments on both sides that were sometimes so sophisticated you can still hear them being voiced today, as well as cosmological assumptions that are entirely alien now, and yet were so pervasively embraced then that early Christianity can only be understood in light of them.

This book reads well, apart from a few places where Sedley delves into technicalia, though in the worst case of this he takes the trouble to warn the reader and advises those less interested to skip the technostuff and get right back to the gripping story.

Calling All Benefactors

I completed my dissertation defense, and passed with revisions, which I've just completed and delivered. Now it's only a wait for signatures and paperwork (with maybe tweaks to the revisions if the subcommittee desires). I'll blog on all that once I've deposited my dissertation (the last step in the process, probably in June). At that point I'll essentially be a Ph.D. (since nothing else has to happen after that), though the actual diploma will be dated several months later, and then it will be official. But in practical terms I'm already done.

Now I need a job. Even at best there won't be any academic positions available until Fall (and more realistically I might not find a position until 2009), but we've been stuck in debt for several years now and I'd like to clear it sooner rather than later. Our monthly expenses would drop immensely if we did, and this would substantially improve our situation. My wife would be very happy. And so would I. So I have an audacious proposal. It probably won't happen, especially in this present economy. But as Jack Burton said when he took a futile shot at the psychic eye monster in Lo Pan's underground lair, "Well, you never know until you try!"

Here's my proposal. In the past, generous private benefactors, on their own initiative, have paid me substantially to research and write various online works (such as Why I Am Not a Christian and Was Christianity Too Improbable to Be False). Could there be anyone else out there willing to fund my work? I'd like to find several benefactors, like those who've approached me before, with similar resources and interests, who would love to pool together to pay me to undertake a serious project over the next four months. That project can be anything, whatever this group most wants to see me complete this year. I'm open to suggestions (from those who really do have a mind to fund a project). But I'll use the following as a prominent example.

Many have asked me, often repeatedly, when I'll write a serious monograph on the question of the historicity of Jesus. The present answer is: not for many years. I have too many other projects I'm personally more interested in, and even those I will have little time for now as I begin my job search. (Since some have asked, yes, I am open to job offers outside academia but not specifically looking for them, so all leads or offers are always welcome, and okay, sure, if a billionaire wants to set up an endowment to employ me permanently as a researcher and writer on philosophy & religion, that would be super gosh darned nice). But if I could erase the remaining bulk of our debt burden (at least $20,000) I could justify devoting the next four months almost exclusively to completing a specific job.

In that time I would finish all the research I still have planned (but haven't already done), read every relevant book on both sides of the question (I already have a list), thoroughly research every item I find important, and write a book of professional quality for publication by an academic press. I had already planned such a book out last year, and just shelved it for the future. But I could dust it off and get it done if financed.

The book I propose would take the approach of arguing first and foremost for a logical historical method that all reasonable people could agree on, which would allow any objective investigator to ascertain whether Jesus probably did or didn't exist, simply by plugging in the facts known to them. Then my book would survey what I find to be the most important facts, and apply the presented method to them to demonstrate what my view now is and why, and how it could be changed (since new facts, or legitimate corrections to the facts I use, could change my conclusion, and this may happen even in the course of my final research for the book, but in any case the result will be my honest and well-informed expert opinion).

Such a book would considerably advance the debate in two important respects: First, as I am now (certainly by the time of completion) a qualified Ph.D. (in ancient history, the relevant field), and I will work to meet the standards required to get a serious academic publisher for the book (I'll approach my alma maters first, University of California Press and then Columbia University Press, but in any case something comparable), it will be the most academically rigorous discussion of the issue yet in print. Second, my approach will be to actually facilitate progress in the debate (toward either conclusion) by articulating a clear and defensible method for resolving it (and presenting a case for what further research is needed to do that). Both qualities will help bring this debate to the attention of academic experts so a more informed consensus can eventually develop among those most qualified to judge the issue.

I doubt I have any fans so gobsmacking rich they'd be able to fund this plan all by themselves, but a team of several could, contributing a few thousand each. I've met such folks before. Though in the past I've simply been paid directly as a private contractor, and I'll still work that way, if you have a local or national atheist or other nonprofit willing to agree to act as a granting agency for this particular project (and whose mission would justify it), you could give them an earmarked donation to pay me (while they keep, say, 5%, or 15% for any additional donors they then find on their own), and that would make the contribution a charitable deduction for you. Though you would have to work that out with them on your own. Or take any other approach you desire, direct or indirect (as long as it's legal!). If I can raise the $20,000 I need, I'll complete the project.

If this work is funded now, the book will be completed within four months, and will likely appear in print in 2009 (otherwise probably not for another five or ten years, if indeed ever). Donors will get the privilege of viewing the final draft before publication so they can make requests for revisions (and any that are valid will be heeded). I have an unpublished paper that in effect serves as a preliminary outline for this book, which I will provide only for the private review of serious donors. And I can prepare the same for any other project proposed.

Again, the above is only an example (one I think the expressed demand has been greatest for). Any other comparable project is possible (in ancient history or naturalist philosophy). Alternatives even include a team of donors who want me to accomplish three or four smaller projects, as each donor desires, which collectively add up to the same amount. Why, to be debt free, I'll even dance on a hat and eat a bug. Not that anyone would pay for that.

I know Christian authors get well financed this way. Even J.P. Holding, I once heard, gets tens of thousands of dollars in donations every year. Can atheists support an author they like, at least as well? It would be a shame if not. But if you think I'm worth it, or you want to talk about it, please contact me directly by email (see my blogger profile for a link to my address if you don't already have it). Let me know how much you would be willing to pledge, and to what sort of project(s), just to see them happen. No Atlas shrugging here. Let my skills and labor work for you. Or bring this blog entry to the attention of everyone you think would be interested (right-click the title above, to copy the URL and pass it on).

I look forward to hearing from anyone crazy enough to take me up on my plan!

Getting Well

I am getting well now. I feel like I've been through a war. Physically weak. A persistent cough. A little out of it. But all the other symptoms have diminished considerably. Now it feels more like a regular head cold. The worst of it was Monday night and Tuesday, then Wednesday night was almost as bad, but since then it's been growing milder. Now I'm just resting and trying to get my strength back. But no hospital needed and no funeral pending. I can't really shout. But imagine me shaking my balled hands back and forth and whispering "Yay!"

Severely Ill

I caught a severe case of the flu this week. It's getting progressively worse and has come near to hospitalizing me. This is the second worst illness I've ever had in my life (the first being botulism, so you might have some idea of what I mean). Unfortunately, as a result, there is no way I can make the Indianapolis event. My speech will be shown there as a video (no, it can't go online, due to issues of copyright law). My voice is recovering, so I'll be narrating.

Since this video-talk will contain material I probably won't speak on anywhere else (nor probably ever write about), fans might not want to miss it, even though I won't be in attendance to take questions or join the panel (or to sign books, though they should still be sold there, and cheaper than you'd get online). I know this is an inconvenience to many, and I apologize. But there will be the video, and two other excellent speakers, and a show of support would still be nice!

In fact, I am hoping fans will show their support for CFI's choice to have me as their keynote speaker by showing up. I'd rather see my reputation reflected by the number of fans who supported me and CFI by showing, than by the number who bowed out just because I was too sick to be there.