Do you think there may be a leprechaun?

Following on from my recent post concerning the existence of the supernatural, I've pondered some more about how I view classifications of certain types of entities — particularly entities of agency. First, here are some supposed entities that I would class as natural or material: extraterrestrials; artificial intelligences; computer consciousness. And second, some I would class as supernatural: fairies; ghosts; gods. (Neither of these lists is intended as exhaustive.)

Natural or material entities are entities for which we have, or can expect, evidence. Supernatural entities are those for which evidence is, by definition, not possible. Supernatural entities are not susceptible to science and reason (though their supposed effects might be), so if you need to affect supernatural entities directly, you might try magic spells or other invocations instead.

If these are the only two categories available for entities of agency, then some people will accept that both categories are "real", while others will accept only one. Personally I think that the material realm is real and the supernatural isn't.

During a debate I attended on 29 November 2009 at Wellington College, on the motion "Atheism is the new Fundamentalism", the tentative wording of the Atheist Bus Campaign was brought up, and Anthony Seldon, moderating, interjected to Richard Dawkins, "Does that mean there may be a God?"

Dawkins replied, "There may be a leprechaun."

Lord Richard Harries took extreme offence at this. "You can't let Richard get away with that. That's a ridiculous remark. You cannot confuse the God of classical theism, which has animated the whole of western philosophy, with a leprechaun."

"Why not?" asked Dawkins. "Why not?"

The video clip is here (there's a general discussion of agnosticism vs atheism, and the wording of the Bus Campaign, but the above exchange begins at about 6'50"):
http://youtu.be/ea1r2FIW6xQ


Harries' umbrage illustrates the fundamental conceit of theological thinking. By taking the existence of the deity as an unquestioned presupposition, theology has built up an intricate and largely impenetrable cat's cradle of obfuscation. However many billions of words have been written on the subject, at bottom there's no evidence that the object (God) of the subject (theology) actually exists. It's all so much hot air, with a degree of reality exactly on a par with a leprechaun.

Could I believe in a supernatural God?

Something that came up in the latest Skepticule Extra discussion (podcast due out imminently — watch this space) prompts me to clarify a change of position. Back in January of 2010 I blogged about what I thought it would take for me to become a believer in God. That post appears somewhat inconclusive now, as I seem to have moved to a more hard-line stance.

Listening to a recent exchange between Richard Dawkins and A. C. Grayling, and reading Grayling's subsequent email to-and-fro with Jerry Coyne, I've realised that there's probably nothing that would convince me of the existence of God.

This of course stems from my naturalistic worldview, in which supernatural entities or events are precluded by definition. However:

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

William Shakespeare: Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 5

The Bard may have been suggesting that there are things we know nothing of, but the more we find out, the more we realise that the universe is strange. And though strange, it has never, not even once, been found to be supernatural. Every time a "mystery" has been explained by science, that explanation has been a natural one. Not once has science come up with an explanation involving supernatural forces. Some might object that the remit of science prevents this, but what else are we to go on? Divine revelation?

Before I'm accused of being closed-minded on this issue, I should first point out that I consider the problem to be essentially one of definition. If you ask me what it would take for me to be convinced of the existence of God, I will necessarily want a clear definition of that God. You tell me precisely and coherently what you mean by God — with no obfuscation or appeals to mystery or ineffability — and I will tell you precisely and coherently what it would take for me to believe in that God.