atheism

The Past, Probability, and Teleology

This post has been expanded, edited, and published in the journal Hope’s Reason. View it in full here.

I have run into the idea more than once recently that we should discount things like the teleological argument due to the fact that it happened in the past. The thinking goes that, because an event (the existence of the universe, for example), has happened, the probability of that event happening is 1/1. Thus, people like Dawkins can say, “The fact of our own existence is perhaps too surprising to bear… How is it that we find ourselves not merely existing, but surrounded by such complexity, such excellence, such endless forms so beautiful… The answer is this: it could not have been otherwise, given that we are capable of noticing our existence at all and of asking questions about it” (here).

There are a number of ways to take such sentiment. The first is quite trivial. Of course, if an event e happened, the probability e having happened is 1/1. That’s, as I said, trivially true.

The problem is when people try to use this thinking against something like some forms of the teleological argument. Statistically, some people assert, the odds that the universe would be life-permitting (like the one we observe) must be 1/1, because, we are here, after all, to observe it!

Now, imagine the following:

d: The chances of any one side coming up are (granting a fair die and surface) 1/6. I toss a die (I really just did here) and get a 1.

Now, the equivalent claim of saying that the universe must have been life permitting because we are here to observe it is saying that d must happen, given that it is what did happen. Some people have no problem with asserting this, and indeed say that this should be the case. The fact that something is true, they may argue, means that the probability that it would happen was 1/1.

We can, in fact, reduce this whole discussion to symbolic logic. It is the case that:

□(p⊃p)

Which tells us that, if p is the case, then necessarily p is the case. Those who are arguing as above, however, need a much stronger conclusion, namely, □p. But this simply doesn’t follow from reality. It is the case that p, therefore, necessarily, p. But it is not the case that necessarily p.

The distinction is a simple de re verses de dicto fallacy. It is an elementary error philosophically, but it is easy to commit. I’ve done so in the past (see here for a post in which I caught myself in this confusion). Now, de dicto necessity is “a matter of a proposition’s being necessarily true” while de re necessity is “an object’s having a property essentially or necessarily” (Plantinga, v). De dicto necessity ascribes necessity to a proposition, while de re necessity argues only that each “res of a certain kind has a certain property essentially or necessarily” (Plantinga, 10).

Returning to the idea of past events, such as the universe coming into existence or rolling a die and having it come up as a 1, we can see where this error occurs. Those who deny with Dawkins that we can work out the prior probabilities of the universe being life-permitting because “it could not have been otherwise” are actually committing this basic error. They have assigned the proposition that the universe exists de re necessity, when in reality it is only a de dicto necessity. It is, in other words, true that whatever has happened, necessarily has happened. It is not true that whatever has happened has happened necessarily.

(This post is a very miniature version of a journal article I have under review for Hope’s Reason right now.)

Sources:

Plantinga, Alvin. The Nature of Necessity. Oxford University Press. 1979.

Image: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:God-dice.jpg

Thanks to Dr. Timothy Folkerts and Dr. Stephen Parrish for some enlightening correspondence on the above points.

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The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from citations, which are the property of their respective owners) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author.

The Leibnizian Cosmological Argument

One of my personal favorite areas of philosophy of religion is studying the arguments for existence of God. One type of argument for God is the Cosmological Argument, and one of these arguments was developed by Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz.

The Argument

A simple version of the argument, in syllogistic form, goes as follows:

1) Everything which exists has an explanation of its existence

2) If the universe has an explanation for its existence, that explanation is God

3) The universe exists

4) The universe has an explanation of its existence

5) Therefore God exists (Craig, 54ff)

Now I think this outlining of Leibniz’s argument is a little forward. Premise 2 may be a bit strong. I’ve edited it some, though I’m sure many others have outlined it similarly, to become:

1) All entities which exist have explanation of their existence. This explanation is either their own necessity or (for contingent entities) an external cause.  (P1)

2) The universe exists (Axiom [A] 1)

3) The universe’s existence is not found in its own necessity (P2)

4) Therefore, the universe has an external cause (P1, P2)

5) There cannot be an infinite series of non-necessary causes (A2)

6) Therefore, the cause of the universe is transcendent (external) to it and necessary (4, A2 [I’m skipping a few steps here, but it would end up here eventually, as follows from 4 and A2])

What the Argument Demonstrates

I’m content with settling for the conclusion found in 6). Demonstrating that an external, necessary entity caused the universe is as close as to God as many arguments can go. A being which causes the universe would obviously be exceedingly powerful, the argument itself states it is transcendent to the universe, and the being exists necessarily. Many (most?) theists tend to agree that the other attributes Classical Theism has generally assigned to God follow quite easily from the acknowledgement that such a being exists.

The question must now turn towards reasons why we should believe that this valid argument is true.

Defense of the Premises

1) seems as though it should be accepted simply as a given. I don’t think I should need to defend 1). If we abandon the idea that everything which exists has an explanation (either contingently–from something outside of itself, or necessarily–from its own necessity), then we should expect any number of utterly random things to pop into and out of existence for no reason whatsoever! After all, it would be the height of self-delusion to think that, while all things require reasons to exist, it just so happens (how fortuitously!) that our universe is the only thing which exists for no reason. I’ll leave it at that for now… such ideas are more important for the Transcendental Argument, after all.

2) simply doesn’t need a defense.

Step 3) is alongside step 1) as the only two premises which are capable of being denied (for 2 is, again, obvious, and 4) follows simply from the first 3; we will discuss step 5 shortly) to avoid the conclusion. Denying step 1), I think, is clearly unacceptable, so denying step 3) is really the only way to go for the anti-theist. But what reasons do we have for thinking the universe exists necessarily? I think this is patently not the case. After all, everything which exists necessarily exists (necessarily) forever! Therefore, a necessary universe must have existed for an infinite amount of time (for time is part of the universe). But if this is the case, we run into the insurmountable problems which an infinite past brings up (these problems are also important for the Kalam Cosmological Argument).

I’ll pick just one problem to demonstrate: if the past is actually infinite (as it must be, granting a necessary universe), then we could never get to the present moment, for we would have had to traverse an actually infinite amount of time to get here! Not only that, but as time passes, there is no time being “added” to what came before. Infinity is infinity and it cannot be increased by adding to it or decreased from taking away from it. Therefore, every second which seems as though it is lengthening our lives is actually not doing anything of the sort, despite every commonsense notion with which we have lived out whole lives saying otherwise! The universe, on this view, is a deceptive place, in which nothing is as it seems.

Not only that, but if the universe were necessary, then it seems as though hard determinism–that is, the view that there is no freedom of the will whatsoever–must be the case. For, if the universe exists necessarily, then it has possessed all of its parts necessarily, forever.

Furthermore, there doesn’t seem to be any reason as to why the universe could not have been different. To assert the universe exists necessarily, once again, means to assert that no part of the universe could have failed to exist. Think of it this way: the universe in which I ate breakfast this morning (as opposed to this universe, in which I did not [shame on me, I know]) is logically impossible. Why? Because things which exist necessarily cannot change!

Worse yet, the explanation of a necessary universe leads to the question of why exactly everything is as it is. The anti-theistic view of such a universe is that, necessarily, the universe exists as it does, which happens to have an extraordinary amount of order, laws of nature which happen to allow for life, etc. (this objection was brought to my attention through Stephen Parrish’s God and Necessity, 241).

Thus, even if we grant that it is possible the universe exists necessarily, the individual properties of the universe still call out for explanation: why is it that the universal constants are what they are, and don’t deviate by the infinitesimal amount which would have prevented the existence of life? Ultimately, then, the necessary universe theory falls victim not just to objections against the idea of a necessary universe, but it also falls victim to the objections against the universe existing for no reasons whatsoever.

This means that we have established 1-4. Step 5 is an axiom which I have proposed, because it seems to me quite clear that an infinite regress of contingent causes is a vicious regress–an impossibility. Everything in such a chain would have to, by 1), have a cause outside of itself. If we take C1 to be caused by C2, but both are contingent, then C2 calls for an explanation, C3, which calls for C4, which calls for C5… ad infinitum. I don’t see any reason to deny that this regress is vicious.

Thus, 1-5 have been established. If this is the case, however, then 6 follows, simply because at some point the series of causes C1…C5… would have to be terminated in N1 (a necessary cause). Furthermore, this cause would be external to the universe, from step 1). Thus, the Leibnizian Cosmological argument provides us with powerful reasons to think that a transcendent, powerful, necessary entity brought the universe into existence. I don’t see any reason to call this entity anything but God. There  are many reasons to think that an entity with these properties (namely, necessary existence, transcendence, omnipotence) would possess many or all the other properties generally assigned to God.

Therefore, God exists.

Sources:

Craig, William Lane. On Guard. David C. Cook Publishers. 2010.

Parrish, Stephen. God and Necessity. University Press of America. 1997.

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The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from citations, which are the property of their respective owners) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author.

Passional Reason and the Heart

Our heart is involved with our beliefs, from our desire for chocolate ice cream to the truth claims of our religion. I’ve written before about the role our will can play in belief. Now I want to turn to a thesis which is highly contentious, namely, that the evidence for Christianity is conclusive, but that this evidence can only be fully ascertained within the framework of a believing heart.

William Wainwright writes about a similar thesis:

“…the thesis that mature religious belief can, and perhaps should, be based on evidence but that the evidence can be accurately assessed only by men and women who possess the proper moral and spiritual qualifications… reason is capable of knowing God on the basis of evidence–but only when one’s cognitive faculties are rightly disposed… [Christianity] places a high value on proofs, arguments, and inferences yet also believes that a properly disposed heart is needed to see their force” (Wainwright, 3).

If my thesis is accurate, however, then this means that only the believer can fully understand the truths of Scripture, the soundness of the incarnation, and the blessedness of the Trinity. Regarding the truths of Scripture, Wainwright comments that:

“The strongest evidence for scripture’s divine authority is its spiritual beauty–a feature that natural reason cannot detect. Only those with converted hearts can perceive, taste, and relish the stamp of divine splendor on scripture and thus be certain of its teachings” (17).

Why should I claim such things? Why think that  only a believer can detect the truths of Christianity, when some of these very truths are made to be detected by “natural reason” (i.e. arguments for the existence of God)?

The answer is fairly simple: such evidence is inherently life-changing. This should not be such a surprise, but it seems as though it is a point too often ignored in philosophy of religion. A little reflection should reveal this to be the truth, however. If one grasps fully the truth of, say, the Kalam Cosmological Argument, then one comes to the conclusion that there is a transcendent cause to the universe. Is it even possible for such a conclusion not to be life-changing? Should not the reaction be an utter commitment to discovering what this cause is? But then, in light of other sound arguments (ontological, moral, etc.) the conclusion is even more startling: theism is true. It is impossible for such a conclusion to be accepted with the sterility of mere philosophical assent. Such a conclusion forces a new worldview, a new moral outlook, and a new heart.

Furthermore, it seems to me obvious that if the God of Classical Theism exists, then such a God would, in sovereignty, demand such life-changes upon the discovery of His existence. As Paul Moser puts it, “…God would offer the kind of evidence and knowledge that represents and advances God’s kind of unselfish love among humans” (Moser, 14).

So what does this mean for the believer, for the unbeliever? For the believer, it means he or she should not abstain from offering evidence. Such evidence, after all, has historically been considered rational basis for Christian belief. But the believer should not expect the nonbeliever to come to faith in Christ based on an argument. Such arguments are barrier-breaking, but not life-saving.

For the nonbeliever, it means that he or she cannot come into faith on his or her own… it is a matter of coming to God with “Fear and Trembling,” knowing that “faith is the highest passion in man” (Kierkegaard, 90). This faith requires the nonbeliever to abandon the self-restraints which he or she has placed on the heart. It requires standing on the precipice of faith and realizing that one cannot come to God on one’s own, but that God brings all to Himself. It requires an abandonment of the radical skepticism, the unrepentant lifestyle, the willful setting aside of the evidence, and a realization that God is in control. It is the existential moment of fear and trembling, of triumph and despair, about which Kierkegaard writes so eloquently. And in this existential moment, it is God Himself who calls, who folds the nonbeliever into unending love.

When it comes to the matter of God’s existence, the problem is not with the evidence, it is with the heart.

Sources:

Moser, Paul. The Evidence for God. Cambridge University Press. 2010.

Kierkegaard, Soren. Fear and Trembling. A & D Publishing. 2008.

Wainwright, William. Reason and the Heart: A Prolegomenon to a Critique of Passional Reason. Cornell University Press. 1995.

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The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from citations, which are the property of their respective owners) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author.

Problems With Evolutionary Morality

Recently, i discussed the problems atheism has with establishing a base for moral discussions (see here). Now it is time to delve into the problems with one of the most commonly used ethical theories of non-theists–evolutionary morality (or, to use a phrase coined by Koukl, “monkey morality”).

Evolutionary Morality generally argues that our moral beliefs arose by some kind of naturally-selected process. Notably, ethical judgments which benefited the survival of the species tended to be favored (thus, murder was frowned upon), while those judgments which prevented the spread of one’s genes tended to be disfavored (hence the reason rape is not permitted, for now it makes one stigmatized socially, thus leading to difficulties propagating genes).

Without much further ado, I find numerous problems with this ethical theory. Here, I shall present only a few.

1) How can we get an “ought” from matter in motion? Ultimately, evolutionary moralists assert that all there is in the universe is the physical realm. As such, a “person” is reducible to matter in motion. But then how exactly is it that there can be a moral “ought” if everything is matter in motion. Evolutionary morality reduces ethical decisions to the point of being mere wishes at best. There is no “ought” or “should” in evolutionary morality, for there cannot be. Ought’s can only be issued from sources to which one has obligations. It is hard to see how a person owes obligation to one’s species or matter.

2) Evolutionary Morality assumes that what is best for a being is the survival of the species. How is it that we can say what is best for an individual being is to insure survival of the species? What is it that makes it “good” or “right” to propagate genes? Furthermore, what if an individual does not wish to help insure survival of his/her species. Suppose there is a species of sentient beings, the Plargons, who are in all ways horrible. They travel the galaxies, taking over lush worlds, burning them to the ground and using every available resource until it is depleted, and then move to the next planet. Suppose now that Judy, a Plargon woman, decides it would be better for her species to be eradicated from the galaxy, for they are without capacity for reform. She therefore manages to destroy all other Plargons, and then retires to a corner of the galaxy alone until she dies, exterminating the Plargon race. Would this be a good or bad thing? Such a hard question should take much consideration from any thinking person, but evolutionary morality circumvents the hard question and simply delcares that Judy has done the greatest evil imaginable, for she has gone against the survival of her own species.

3) Evolutionary Morality assumes that all beings “should” desire the continuity of the species, yet this assumes a higher morality. Again, what makes it “good” or “right” to do things for the survival of our species. Humanism suffers from this glaring problem. It’s all well and good to say that what is good for humanity is what we should strive for. But whence does this “should” come?

4) Evolutionary Morality destroys altruism. Altruism, on evolutionary morality, is generally stupid. For to sacrifice oneself to save another (or several others) is to destroy one’s own place in the gene pool, thus eradicating one’s very reason for existence. Yet it seems intuitively as though altruism is a great good. Evolutionary morality therefore goes against our common sense notions of morality.

5) Evolutionary Morality is arbitrary. That which is good for the species may change over time. Recall the case of rape. I have heard it said that at one time rape was considered “okay” or “good” because it was one way to ensure the survival of the human race. Now, however, due to societal constraints, rape is “bad” or at least “stigmatized” and therefore is viewed negatively. But it seems intuitively that rape is a great horror, no matter what the circumstances! This is another case of Evolutionary Morality violating our moral senses. Furthermore, suppose the nuclear apocalypse happens, leaving only a few hundred humans alive. Evolutionary Morality could allow for rape to once more be a great good, for after all, we would need to repopulate the earth! Why should the feelings of some women or men get in the way of the survival of the species!? Again, the bankruptcy of Evolutionary Morality shines through.

It seems to me that the problems with moral systems which do not include God are endless. Without a lawgiver, anything can be right. Without a lawgiver, there are no “oughts”. Morality therefore dies.

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Morality and Atheism

I am continually baffled by atheistic accounts of morality.* What, on atheism, gives us the grounds for stating that an action is wrong?

Morals can be either objective or subjective. The thrust of the following argument is intended to show that atheism cannot have objective morals. In other words, an atheist has no way to condemn some action as wrong, other than that it is wrong “in my opinion”.

There are only a few ways I have seen it argued that atheism can have objective moral values. These are:

1) Platonistic Atheism- Morals exist necessarily independently, as abstract objects (such as numbers).

2) Humanism- Humanity first. Humans are to be valued objectively, so morals can be based on what benefits the human race.

3) Science can answer moral questions, somehow.

There are horrendous difficulties with all three of these views.

Platonism about morality could be the best way for atheists to have a “way out”, if you will, for accepting objective morality. The existence of moral values such as “Justice” can be posited as brute facts of our existence. They just exist, and that’s all. The problems with this view are numerous.

First, on this view, the moral values of “Sloth”, “Hedonism,” “Masochism” are also platonic forms existing as brute facts. What reason can be given for choosing to prefer “Justice,” “Uprightness”, etc. over “Masochism,” “Hedonism,” etc.? If all of these things are simply brute facts, then why is it that some should be preferred over others? I see no non-question begging method for determining which values should be favored.

There is no reason, on atheism, to value one over the other. Second, how is it that (granting naturalist evolution) natural selection managed to line us up so wonderfully with what appears to be correct moral cognitions? Again, given that the morals themselves are brute facts of existence, it is utterly remarkable that we evolved in such a way as to line up with what appears to be the “good side” of the moral values (one might object by arguing that we don’t know either way, but then they would have to accept that somehow being a sadomasochist could be a moral good. I doubt very much this is a position worth even considering). Third, there is the thus-far ignored question as to what makes the idea of moral facts existing by brute fact even close to intelligible?

Given the huge problems with 1), and the fact that I consider this the strongest position for the atheist wishing to argue for objective morality, it seems these are dire straits indeed for the atheist ethicist.

2) is equally problematic, however, for a number of reasons. First is that humans often do not agree on what exactly is best for humanity. Which humans are allowed to determine what is right for the whole of society? Furthermore, 2) doesn’t actually provide objective morality at all. It merely sets an arbitrary line for morality–it is moral to act for the good of humanity. What basis is there for taking this assertion as truth? We are humans, but this doesn’t, on atheism, entitle us to any kind of superior ethical or cognitive status. Why is it that humans are objectively valued? It just pushes the problem of objective morality up one level.

FInally, 3) is utterly bankrupt as an explanation for objective morality. I have discussed this position before in more detail (see my discussion of Sam Harris’ attempt at articulating this unintelligible position). 3) basically asserts that somehow, we can empirically detect what is moral by figuring out what makes people happy. Surely, this is no way to detect objective morals, for even if the pool of test subjects is the entire human race, one day the entire human race may determine it makes us happy to kill other humans at will, and then this would be objectively, empirically, moral. It makes us happy, so it is moral! Clearly this is no way to save objective morality, for 1) it makes moral values arbitrary, which is clearly not objective, and 2) it falls victim to the same problems of either position 1) or 2) above, for it must grant one of these positions to pursue some background for determining reality. Sam Harris, in his discussion of this position, simply asserts that “Values are… facts” (see video cited in my link above). Wonderful! I agree that values are facts. But simply saying this doesn’t magically explain their existence.

The massive problems with any atheistic position which attempts to give credence to objective moral values show that the atheist really only has two positions open to him/her: 1) abandon the existence of objective moral values (a route not often taken, but when it is traveled, it leads to subjectivity of morals–which of course means we cannot condemn any action as “wrong” other than as a preference) or 2) abandon atheism and accept a position with better explanatory power for the objective moral facts. I suggest theism as one clear possibility.

*I am not suggesting that atheists cannot be moral people. Indeed, some great examples of moral people are friends of mine who are atheists. The point of this post is, instead, that atheism has no grounds for morality, other than total relativism.

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Do we have epistemic “oughts”?

I’ve been contemplating for a while about the “oughts” within epistemology. It is often said that we should do something, or that we are obligated to consider certain types of evidence. But what exactly does this mean? Specifically, I don’t see that it can have any meaning given an atheistic perspective.

Take a recent example. I was talking to a friend of mine who asserted that we “ought” to be skeptical about all things.* The friend was referring to the existence of God as an example, and continued to argue that there are specific things we epistemically should or should not do. We should, for example, approach the question of God’s existence with skepticism. We should take empirical evidence above any other type of evidence. The examples could be multiplied.

The question that came to mind, however, is what kind of justification does an atheist have for arguing that we have epistemic “oughts”? In other words, what is it about people that means we owe it to… well, something… to fully investigate the universe? For, on atheism, there cannot be meaning to our lives other than a “noble lie”  which we tell ourselves in order to try to infuse  our lives with meaning(Dr. L.D. Rue–cited in On Guard by William Lane Craig, 46). The universe is on a countdown until cosmic heat death. Any actions we take are ultimately utterly devoid of meaning, for no matter how much we impact the human race for good or evil (and who knows what those terms mean, on atheism!?), the human race will, inevitably, fade into non-existence, along with the rest of the universe.

But then what does it matter what our beliefs are? How is it that we can have “oughts” about what we do or don’t believe? What kind of justification is there for thinking that we should or should not try to discover the truth about the universe? Ultimately, my actions, on atheism, do not matter. In the grand scheme of things, I am just more matter in motion, on a big hunk of matter in motion, in a universe filled with matter in motion, which will, itself, fade away.

It is because of this that I cannot think of any reason that there could be epistemic “oughts” on atheism. I think that atheistic philosophy (and indeed anything, on atheism) is an ultimately pointless endeavor, trying to infuse meaning into a universe which is utterly devoid of meaning.

There cannot be epistemic “oughts” on atheism. The very idea is a fiction, another “noble lie” invented to try to keep us from despair.

*I have the friend’s permission to write about this on my blog.

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Methodological Naturalism: A Practice in Self-Affirmation?

I recently read a fantastic article in the latest Philosophia Christi by Stephen C. Dilley entitled “Philosophical Naturalism and Methodological Naturalism: Strange Bedfellows?” and I just had to share its central thesis here.

Dilley argues that “philosophical naturalists who draw epistemic support from science for their worldview ought to set aside methodological naturalism in certain historical science” (118).

Methodological Naturalism (MN) is generally the position that within science, one should never appeal to a supernatural explanation. Philosophical Naturalism (PN) is broadly defined as the belief that the world consits only of the natural, that is, that there are no supernatural entities (and thus theism is false). Here, of course, astute readers will almost instantly notice the problem with utilizing such a position to try to gain epistemic support for PN. The problem is, as Dilley points out, that using MN to epistemically justify PN is circular.

Let us examine this problem more fully. One consequence of MN is that “God hypotheses… cannot receive evidential confirmation within the context of science” (127). Of course, this doesn’t mean that “…God hypotheses do not receive scientific confirmation… but that they cannot… No possible emphasis can confirm God hypotheses within a scientific context, no matter what the evidence actually is. That is just what MN entails” (127, emphasis his).

Again, readers will probably already see where this is going. The problem of circularity here rears its ugly head. On the one hand, hypotheses which would disconfirm PN are ruled out a priori from scientific investigation. On the other hand, adherents of PN seem to want to utilize scientific evidence to confirm PN and disconfirm rival hypotheses. But then, while MN is in effect, PN cannot be criticized scientifically (129). This is because the central thrust of MN is to rule out supernatural hypotheses, which, in turn, rules out any kind of rival position for PN. Again, this doesn’t even appeal to any kind of scientific evidence for God or lack thereof, because such evidence isn’t even considered, a priori.

And then, following from this, PN will always receive confirmation from MN, because it cannot be otherwise. This is because MN rules out any rival hypotheses by definition. Again, it doesn’t even matter if naturalistic explanations would be superior to theistic explanations, because, given MN, there cannot even be a side-by-side comparison!

Thus, those who wish to utilize MN as some way to draw epistemic support for PN are sadly misguided. It simply cannot be done, because MN can’t even consider rival hypotheses. Instead, the joint usage of PN and MN show just another reason that naturalism is a practice in self-affirmation. Obviously, naturalism is going to appear superior to theism if we rule out theism before we even begin to investigate! Clearly, those who wish to justify PN cannot utilize MN to do so.

Source:

Dilley, Stephen C, “Philosophical Naturalism and Methodological Naturalism: Strange Bedfellows?” Philosophia Christi, 12-1, 2010, p. 118-141.

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The Impossibility of a Neutral Worldview

There is no such thing as a “neutral worldview.”

It is often proposed that some worldview is “basic”, in the sense of being “the worldview from which all others should be judged.” This proposition is wholly false. Within any worldview (which will be interchangeably referred to as a “noetic structure”), certain premises are taken in some sort of presupposed form. For example, within Christianity, the existence of God, on that worldview, is a presupposition. This isn’t to say that one can’t argue for the presuppositions within one’s worldview. One can certainly argue for the validity of one’s presuppositions, but this in itself doesn’t change the fact that every worldview is built upon some background.

I have seen it claimed that atheism does not or cannot constitute a worldview. This is also false. Any human being has his or her own noetic structure from which he or she judges the probability of propositions. Various atheists are not immune from having noetic structures or beliefs.

As Stephen Parrish writes, in God and Necessity, “…there are differences in the way people judge the probability or plausibility about the truth of certain propositions, and these judgments are made on the basis of the noetic and probability structures which are believed in” (147). It is simply not possible to divorce oneself from one’s presuppositions.

Thus, it is impossible to declare some worldview “neutral” and determine that from this worldview, all others should be judged. I would call this the height of self-edification. Christians, Buddhists, atheists, agnostics, etc. all have certain presuppositions within their worldviews which will make the propositions of other worldviews more or less likely. One cannot retreat to, say, agnosticism and argue that one will then judge everything from that “neutral” worldview, for everyone is going to maintain some kind of noetic structure which will, in turn, define what propositions are to be believed–or even considered.

Further, it’s not as if retreating from belief in all gods or affirming that there is no god–that is, atheism in its varied forms–will allow one to stand on “neutral” grounds in order to judge worldviews. Instead, the presuppositions within an atheistic worldview will serve to confirm that noetic structure. Again, as Parrish writes, “[r]ealistically, for many thinkers, no amount of evidence would ever be enough to justify a belief in God or miracles” (157). This, of course, is due to the noetic structures which are presupposed.

Further, writes Parrish,

“Every person capable of considering or having an opinion on issues brings with them a specific noetic structure or world-view accompanied by a corresponding probability structure. If a person did not bring this component to the debate he would be unable to formulate an opinion, as he would have no way of judging probability. So before considering the evidence on a particular issue, there must already be in place a noetic and probability structure. Probability  is inherent in one’s world-view and thus is used in judging the evidence” (158).

The same, of course, applies to Christians or believers in various faiths. Their own presuppositions guide their thinking and discernment of probability structures. Again, there is no neutral worldview.

Cornelius Van Til, one of the great apologists of the last century, was well known for his own views on how presuppositions affect judgment of worldviews. He wrote, “In spite of th[e] claim to neutrality on the part of the non-Christian, the… apologist must point out that every method, the supposedly neutral one no less than any other, presupposes either the truth or the falsity of Christian theism” (Christian Apologetics, 129). Furthermore, Van Til goes on to make the point that in some sense, then, all reasoning is circular,

“To admit one’s own presuppositions and to point out the presuppositions of others is therefore to maintain that all reasoning is, in the nature of the case, circular reasoning. The starting point, the method, and the conclusion are always involved in one another” (130).

This is not to say that we should be relativists when it comes to worldviews. There are ways (logical reasoning, scientific exploration, philosophy, etc.) to explore the validity of the claims of worldviews, and thus serve to confirm or disconfirm various presuppositions found within these noetic structures. The point, rather, is twofold:

1) It is question begging to assume that one’s own worldview is “neutral” or basic, and that all other worldviews should be judged from within this structure

2) We should be modest when comparing our worldview to that of others’, realizing that our presuppositions cannot be the basis for rejecting the claims of competing noetic structures.

Sources:

Parrish, Stephen. God and Necessity. University Press of America. 2001.

Van Til, Cornelius. Christian Apologetics. P & R Publishing. 2003.

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The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from citations, which are the property of their respective owners) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author.

God and Logical Priority

Logical priority, broadly defined, is the way things are ontologically ordered. That is, to say that for two factors, x and y, x is logically prior to y if and only if x takes precedence over y. An example could be to use miracles and God (note this is just for the sake of example, I realize that some would argue miracles can exist without God, but I’m simply using it as an illustration). The existence of God is logically prior to miracles in the sense that if God does not exist, then miracles do not. In this case, God would be x, while miracles would be y. In order for y to be the case, x must also be the case, thus making x logically prior to y.

So what does this have to do with God? Very much, I would say. For one of the most common objections to the existence of God is that there is no (or not enough) scientific evidence to demonstrate God’s existence. I have addressed such objections before, but now I would like to take a completely different approach. That is, I believe that the existence of God is logically prior to the question of scientific evidence.

The reason I take the existence of God to be logically prior to scientific evidence is be cause logic is prior to science. Take the case of necessity, for example, and combine it with the case of scientific laws. Now, in science, a law is generally something like “if x occurs, then y will occur.” But it is not the case that such laws operate on a logically necessary level. For it is not the case that “Necessarily, If x occurs, then y will occur” (or, □(x⊃y) for those who enjoy ‘logic-ese’). It is simply the case that this is what happens in all observed cases. It could even (possibly, but not modally) be said that “If x occurs, then, necessarily y will occur” (again, logic-ese: x⊃□y), but this does not establish logical necessity in the modal and broader sense.

The type of necessity which can therefore be ascribed to scientific laws is a contingent or “accidental” necessity. They operate in a necessary sense in that in this world (out of all possible worlds) it is the case that if x then y, but they do not operate necessarily in the sense that in every possible worlds it is the case that “if x then y.”

Logical necessity, however, is prior to this. For, on logical necessity, that which is necessary is necessary in all possible worlds. Logical necessity is the very thing which scientific necessity lacks.

Again, we may ask, what does this have to do with God? Well, if it is the case that it can be demonstrated that God exists out of logical necessity, then the question of scientific evidence is irrelevant. For logical necessity is prior to scientific necessity. This is not to say that scientific evidence is not useful when exploring the “God question”, if you will, but it is to say that if it can be demonstrated that God is logically necessary, then demands for scientific evidence to demonstrate or even make probable the existence of God are misplaced. For if God is logically necessary, then to deny the existence of God is incoherent in the strong sense (that is, it is illogical). The logical demonstration would be prior to and therefore supersede the scientific evidence or lack thereof (I believe that there are at least some reasons scientifically to believe God exists, but that is off topic).

But then, we must ask, can it be demonstrated that God is logically necessary? Well yes, I believe so. I have argued this at length elsewhere, so I won’t reiterate it (see here). If any of these arguments are sound (as I believe they are), then the question of scientific evidence for God’s existence is simply a non-factor. Certainly, the scientific (and other) evidences may be seen  as providing further justification for believing that God exists, but if it is the case that the arguments for God’s logical necessity are sound, then such arguments are the only tools needed to defend the claim that God exists. Further, to dispute such a claim (that is, God’s existence) would be incoherent in the strongest possible sense.

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God and Moral Obligation, or Euthyphro, rethought

Euthyphro’s dilemma is so frequently discussed in philosophy that I don’t see a need to thoroughly present it. The horns, however, are going to be the topic of this post, so I’ll outline them below:

It seems that if God makes commands which create moral duties for humans (and others), then there may only be two options for the theist:

1) We ought to do what God commands because God commands it (and thus he could have commanded any random thing to be dutiful–i.e. torturing cute rabbits)

or

2) God commands us to do things because they are what we ought to do (and therefore there is some standard to which even God answers–see Richard Swinburne’s Revelation for an interesting description of a potential way around this problem)

If these are the only two options, it seems as though theists are in an uncomfortable position indeed! Normally, most theists would attack one of the horns of the dilemma or hit between the horns and find a way out. The late William Alston, however, ingeniously argues in Divine Nature and Human Language that the theist can accept both horns of the dilemma, albeit with some interpretation (DNHL 255).

The most important part of Alston’s solution is to assume that God is perfectly good essentially, that is, necessarily, God is perfectly good (257). In other words, God cannot perform a morally imperfect action. Alston makes no argument for this position, though I think that Stephen Parrish argues this rather well in God and Necessity. Regardless, I’m going to follow Alston’s assumption for the presentation of his argument, for now ignoring the potential problems with removing libertarian free will from God.

If it is the case that God is essentially perfectly good, then moral “oughtness” words such as “required”, “forbidden”, “duty”, etc. do not apply to God. This is because these terms “apply to a being only if that being has a choice between doing or failing to do what it ought to do” (257). But if God cannot fail to do good, then  His own nature “prevents him from acting freely in a way that is required for moral obligation… it is metaphysically impossible that God should do anything that is less than supremely good” (257). But then this means that horn 1 of the dilemma serves as no problem–God can not order things which would be arbitrarily evil, but it also means horn 2 is no problem either–God is not restricted by any “ought” statements.

Further, implicit in the dilemma is the idea that some form of Platonism is correct, that is, there are some objective morals as ideas somewhere. But again the theist can adapt this to theism and say that instead of some morals that just exist of necessity on their own (though again see Swinburne, Revelation for a defense of this very idea of theistic morality), God Himself is the “supreme standard of goodness. God plays the role in evaluation that is… assigned… to Platonic Ideas or principles” (268). Moral obligations are what we ought to do (horn 2 of the dilemma) because they are features of God (269).

Therefore, by accepting that God is essentially perfectly good, and further supposing that God Himself is the standard for goodness, the theist can accept the horns of the dilemma while arguing that they don’t really serve as objections to theism as classically supposed. God, having no “ought” statements apply to him, cannot be the subject of 2), while his very existence as essentially perfectly good means that 1) cannot apply to him either.

Sources:

Alston, William P. Divine Nature and Human Language. Cornell University Press. 1989.

Parrish, Stephen. God and Necessity. University Press of America. 2001.

Swinburne, Richard. Revelation. Oxford University Press. 2007.

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The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from citations, which are the property of their respective owners) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author.