Recently in Existence of God Category

[this is cross-posted from NewApps] These reflections are prompted by Mike Almeida's interesting post on the question of whether theodicy can ever be successful, and if so what success conditions a theodicy must meet. I want consider ta related, yet distinct question: can theodicies be convincing in the light of specific instances of evil, and the immediate sense this provokes: "God, if he exists, would not have allowed this"? In the wake of the tragic shooting incident at Newtown, I have been thinking a lot about the problem of evil and classical theodicies and defenses, such as John Hick's soul building theodicy and various forms of free will theodicies/defenses (e.g., Plantinga's; Augustine's).

One way to approach the problem of evil is to look at it as an abstract puzzle to be solved. Wielding modal logic and other tools that analytic philosophy offers, we can argue that evil is unavoidable even for a loving, powerful and omniscient God, if he wishes specific goods like free will to obtain. A different option is to focus on concrete, vivid examples. William Rowe presented the case of a fawn, trapped in a forest fire that was caused by lightning, the fawn suffers horrible burns, and lies in dreadful agony for days until its death. A pointless instance of suffering that, Rowe argues, God could have prevented. Now for cases like Newtown we could invoke the free will defense, since - unlike the forest fire in Rowe's example - the incident was caused by a human agent, exercising his free will, and it was made possible by other instances of free will, such as American policies on gun ownership. But it still seems to me quite a different thing to argue in the face of particular, vivid instances like this that suffering is outweighed by the greater good of the unbridled exercise of free will by moral agents. When confronted with concrete evil like this, theodicy, or indeed any theistic response to the problem of evil, becomes a formidable task indeed.

When one's book in sexual ethics is coming out (shameless self-promotion), one's thoughts naturally turn to the philosophy of science. :-) A standard line of thought is that naturalism is a simpler theory than theism in that it only posits one kind of entity, the natural world, while theism posits that and God.

A standard theistic response is to concede the point but say that theism wins out through greater explanatory power. Trent and I have, however, been exploring a different line of thought: One measures the simplicity of a theory (with "simplicity" understood in such a way that it is an intellectual merit of a theory that it be simple) primarily by looking at the simplicity of the theory's explanatorily fundamental posits (this has some structural resemblance to Huemer's work) rather than at claims explained by the theory.

For instance, suppose that according to our best physics certain laboratory conditions not occurrent in nature produce a Zeta particle. Alien scientists, who are the only ones ever to have the technology for this, are facing a great natural disaster they cannot avert that will destroy their civilization. As one last hurrah for science, they plan to produce a Zeta before the disaster. Unfortunately, at the last minute, they find that an extremely expensive part, which there is no time to repair, has only probability 1/2 of functioning.

Consider the theories: (S) They will succeed in producing a Zeta due to the part functioning and (F) They will fail in producing a Zeta due to the part malfunctioning. Theory S posits the instantiation of a new kind of particle that F does not. If explained phenomena also count towards the complexity of a theory, S is more complex. But that just seems wrong: S and F are on par simplicity-wise. Besides, if S were more complex than F, then if all other intellectual merits are equal--which they sure seem to be--then we should take S to be more likely than F. But that would violate what seems an unproblematic instance of the Principal Principle--F and S should have the same probability.

It's hard to come up with reasonable priors for such theses as Naturalism and Theism and with reasonable conditional probabilities for such evidence as Evils We Can't Theodicize on Theism. But we can sometimes come up with reasonable comparisons of the strength of evidence. And this might lead to some helpful non-numerical probabilistic reasoning.

For instance, we might have the judgment that the evidential strength of the Problem of Evil (POE) as an argument against theism is no greater than the evidential strength of the Finetuning Argument (FTA) as an argument for theism. Two thoughts in support of this: (1) the low-entropy initial state of the our universe has been estimated by Penrose to be utterly incredibly unlikely (my paraphrase of his 10^(-10^123)) and some of the other anthropic coincidences come with what are intuitively extremely narrow ranges; the theist has proposed various theodicies--they may not be convincing, but it seems reasonable to say that the probability that together they answer the POE is no less, indeed quite a bit greater, than the incredibly tiny probabilities that FTA claims; (2) just as thinking about naturalistic multiverse hypotheses significantly decreases the force of FTA, thinking about theistic multiverse hypotheses significantly decreases the force of POE (cf. Turner and Kraay's work); (3) just as in the case of FTA we might worry that there is some nomic explanation of the coincidences that we haven't found, so too in the case of POE we have sceptical theism.

This means that the theist can simply sacrifice FTA to POE: the FTA either balances POE or outbalances POE (I think the latter, because of point (1) above).

Then the theist has a nice supply of other strong and serious theistic arguments, such as the cosmological, non-FTA design arguments (e.g., Swinburne's laws of nature argument), ontological, religious experience, moral epistemology (theism has a much better explanation than naturalism of how we can know objective moral truths), etc. The atheist has a few other arguments, too, but I think they are not very impressive (the Stone and other issues for the Chisholming of divine attributes, Grim-style worries about omniscience and infinity, worries about the interaction between the physical and nonphysical). At least once POE is completely out of the picture, even if FTA is lost, the theist can make a very strong case.

Thomas Nagel writes a review of Alvin Plantinga's recent book, Where the Conflict Really Lies, which James Beebe has also nicely reviewed here at Prosblogion.

Nagel's review is well-written and charitable. He covers much territory by summarizing large swathes of Plantinga-philosophy in succinct paragraphs, all without sacrificing accuracy. (He even appears to have carefully read footnotes from Plantinga's other works.) His only objection seemed to be that Plantinga does not consider naturalist theories of mental content. Plantinga doesn't cover them in this book, but he deals with a number of them in a recent PPR paper.

So, as one very familiar with Plantinga's work, I was impressed with Nagel's review.

I want to draw Prosblogion readers' attention to a very interesting paper by CalTech physicist Sean Carroll, "Does the Universe Need God?" (hat tip: ex-apologist). The article is to be published in The Blackwell Companion to Science and Christianity. The article is a model of constructive dialog between philosophy and physics. Carroll shows engagement with the major philosophical arguments under discussion, and does not come off as condescending or dismissive. He also provides concise and helpful summaries of the relevant physics. Additionally, the article shows an admirable degree of epistemic humility, noting that there are many unsolved problems in physics and that our theory of the early universe is not polished and completed, while still arguing that we have enough information to shape our views on origins. The article is quite readable, and would certainly be helpful for students.

Let me make a few remarks on Carroll's actual arguments and positions. Near the beginning of the article, Carroll quickly summarizes the possible responses to 'first cause'-type cosmological arguments. It seems to me that he is on firm ground here: it is unclear whether there even is a first moment, and if there is then it is not clear that it even makes sense to ask what caused the state of the universe in that first moment, if we are looking for another cause in the series of causes. Besides (although Carroll does not make this point), classical philosophical theology does not conceive of God as one more cause in the series of causes. So the first cause argument isn't really going anywhere. I myself think that insofar as the first cause argument is tempting, this is because it gets confused with the argument from contingency: people aren't really asking what caused the first state of the universe, they are asking why was the state of the universe as it was, and it's quite clear that, if there really is a first moment, then the answer to that question could not possibly be another ordinary physical cause: either it has no answer, or it has an answer of a very different sort.

Carroll next offers detailed criticism of the 'fine-tuning' argument. The main point Carroll makes here is that the multiverse hypotheses which physicists take seriously are not just introducing enormous numbers of universes as ad hoc posits for the purpose of getting rid of fine-tuning. One sort of multiverse, for instance, falls neatly out of inflationary cosmology, which is a well-verified physical theory. (Brian Greene's latest book, The Hidden Reality, surveys the range of multiverse theories and the different degrees of evidence for them.) So to say that the multiverse is excessively complex and so should be rejected is to misunderstand the sort of simplicity we should be looking for. Now, Carroll runs over some distinctions between different multiverse theories here; my understanding on the basis of Greene's book is that the multiverse theories that do the most to eliminate fine-tuning are the least well-supported and widely accepted among those on offer, and that it is true of some of these theories that their main attraction for their adherents is to get rid of fine-tuning. I'm not, however, convinced that that's bad: apparent fine-tuning is one of the things physicists try to explain. If a particular multiverse hypothesis provides a simple explanation of a particular apparent fine-tuning, then good for it. And I agree with Carroll on what simplicity should mean here. Leibniz said that God would create the world which was simplest in principles and most varied in phenomena (see, e.g., DM 5). This is the kind of simplicity that matters here: simplicity of the fundamental principles. If they generate many and varied phenomena (e.g. an enormous variety of universes), this is no stroke against them. Again, point Carroll.

Near the end of the article, Carroll does come to discuss the argument from contingency. Unfortunately, he does not, in my view, take it as seriously as it deserves. He essentially says that, although we ought always to look for explanations with respect to things in the universe, there can be no such explanation of the universe as a whole or its most basic laws. In The Principle of Sufficient Reason: A Reassessment Alexander Pruss makes the case that the PSR cannot be restricted in any non-ad hoc way without undermining the assumptions of explainability made in ordinary scientific practice. Carroll ultimately simply pronounces that "There is no reason, within anything we currently understand about the ultimate structure of reality, to think of the existence and persistence and regularity of the universe as things that require external explanation." He doesn't give an adequate account of exactly what restrictions he is placing on explainability, or how they are justified. He seems to be supposing that what things we take to be in need of explanation depends on our physical theory. The trouble is, our practices with respect to explanation must be at least partly a priori in character: we have to start looking for explanations before we've got any explanations. Furthermore, Carroll's example, that in modern physics there is no need for Aristotle's Prime Mover because of the Law of Inertia, neglects the fact that an appeal to the Law of Inertia is itself an explanation of why objects continue in their state of motion. It is not that we've discovered that these things don't need explanation, but rather that we've discovered that the correct explanation is of a very different sort from what Aristotle had in mind.

The argument from contingency, however, takes God outside the realm of physics. God here provides a different kind of explanation to a different kind of problem. This, to my mind, is one of the key reasons why the argument from contingency and the ontological argument are far more credible than either the first cause argument or the fine-tuning argument. That theism is not a credible physical theory is transparently obvious. Whether it is a credible metaphysical theory is another question entirely. I also note that the standards of credibility for metaphyiscal theories are quite lax compared to those for physical theories. Might theism enjoy the same level of (objective) support as quantum field theory? Not a chance. Might it enjoy the same level of (objective) support as (say) our best theories of universals? On this latter point I would say, it can, and it does.

Call an objection to the existence of God a 'problem of sub-optimal worlds' when it appeals to the claim that God has reason to maximize the value of worlds. Since there are better (feasible) worlds than the actual one, these problems infer in some way or another that God does not exist. Although I haven't looked at the literature closely, my impression is that every instance of the problem of sub-optimal worlds assumes a very simple relationship between the intrinsic value of a state of affairs and reasons for action (they don't always talk about reasons, but my point could be cast in terms of virtues or whatever else one prefers). Something like this is typically assumed without comment:

Promotion: For every domain of intrinsic value D and subject S, S has reason to maximize D, i.e., for every additional degree of D that could be attained, S has reason to attain that additional degree of value.

Promotion is plausible for some domains of intrinsic value, such as welfare. It's plausible that, for every additional degree of welfare that I could bring about in your life, I have some reason to take the necessary means of attaining that additional degree of welfare. But does Promotion hold for every domain of intrinsic value? I don't think so.

In Where the Conflict Really Lies, which James Beebe has nicely reviewed, Alvin Plantinga discusses nomological necessity, the necessity had by physical laws. As he (and everybody else) points out, propositions like

2) Every sphere made of gold is less than 1/2 mile in diameter

are true and universal. However, there is a clear sense in which (2) is not necessary in the sense required for lawhood (the sort of necessity we call 'nomological necessity'). On the other hand, the proposition that no object can increase from a velocity less than the speed of light to a velocity more than the speed of light is nomologically necessary. Also, it does not seem that this proposition is necessary in the broadly logical or metaphysical sense; the law seems contingent.

How are we to understand nomological necessity? Plantinga suggests:

John K. Alexander asked me to post this interesting thought experiment, in order to get helpful comments:

Many people play computer games, many of which contain great numbers of fictional characters 'experiencing' horrendous evils and suffering. Game players seem to get a great deal of satisfaction/pleasure playing these games and there seems to be nothing morally wrong with getting pleasure or satisfaction this way. After all, the characters are fictional and are not really suffering regardless of whether or not the game mirrors real life to some extent. Imagine that there is a game designer who is designing a game similar to 'Grant Theft Auto.' Imagine further that the designer has developed a program that if it is incorporated into the game will make the characters sentient. Should the designer incorporate that program into the game he created? My intuition, and those of actual game designers I have discussed this with, is that the designer ought not to incorporate that program - that to do so would to be doing something wrong. The underlying intuition is that to introduce the ability to suffer is wrong. The characters in the game will go through the 'life' created by the game parameters and the game can be fun for those sentient beings that play it, but no one is being actually being harmed in the game. Introducing sentience into the game causes the characters to be actually harmed therefore introducing sentience is wrong. This being the case then if God is the designer He has to make the choice to introduce sentience into the universe He creates because He knows how to do so. It seems to follow that if we should not introduce sentience into our games then God should not introduce sentience into the universe (game) He creates. Furthermore, not introducing sentience should not affect the joy, or sorrow, that He experiences playing His game. This being so, the fact that human beings do suffer seems to be a good reason for believing that God does not exist.

In Where the Conflict Really Lies, which James Beebe has nicely reviewed, Alvin Plantinga writes,

But numbers and sets themselves make a great deal more sense from the point of view of theism than from that of naturalism. Now there are two quite different but widely shared intuitions about the nature of numbers and sets. First, we think of numbers and sets as abstract objects, the same sort of thing as propositions, properties, states of affairs and the like... On the other hand, there is another equally widely shared intuition about these things: most people who have thought about the question, think it incredible that these abstract objects should just exist, just be there, whether or not they are ever thought by anyone. Platonism with respect to these objects is the position that they do exist in that way, that is, in such a way as to be independent of mind... But there have been very few real Platonists, perhaps none besides Plato and Frege, if indeed Plato and Frege were real Platonists (and even Frege, that alleged arch-Platonist, referred to propositions as gedanken, thoughts). It is therefore extremely tempting to think of abstract objects as ontologically dependent upon mental or intellectual activity in such a way that either they just are thoughts, or else at any rate couldn't exist if not thought of. (287-288)

I am inclined to think that there are numbers and that they are abstract objects, but I don't have the second intuition that they must be thought. Is there something I'm missing? I do have the intuition that contingently existing objects must have a cause for their existence, but I don't have the intuition that abstract objects must be thought, which, if they exist, necessarily exist.

Maybe somebody could help motivate this intuition for me? Or is this intuition not very widely shared (contra Plantinga's remark)?

I've just returned from a wonderful 2-day philosophy of religion workshop at Glasgow organized by Victoria Harrison, who put together a diverse and high-quality program. One of these exciting papers was by Joshua Rollins' (U of Oklahoma) on the common consent argument.
Roughly speaking, in its crudest form, the Common Consent argument (CCA) goes as follows:

1. Most people believe in God


2. Therefore, God exists

This argument, traditionally widely endorsed, has fallen on hard times. Not only does it seem problematic to infer the truth of a belief from its mere popularity, declining religiosity in the western world have challenged premise (1). However, the recent shift in epistemology to social epistemology has rekindled an interest in the CCA. As Joshua indicated, social epistemologists have convincingly demonstrated that we do (and ought) take other people's opinion into account as evidence. We do this in the case of testimony - where we acquire a vast amount of knowledge through other people - and in the case of peer disagreement, where disagreement with others is a fact we need to take into consideration in many cases. In what follows, I'll reflect on some ideas offered by Thomas Kelly, who wrote a recent paper on CCA, and implications of cognitive science of religion for CCA.

As promised, here is the second fine-grained analysis of the results of my survey. The analyses have been done by Robert O'Brien, a medical statistician from Miami University. The statistics are fairly technical, and below this short summary you can find the complete statistical analysis.

Here I report how philosophers rate the arguments against theism in my survey. I presented 8 arguments against theism (see here for an overview of the arguments and general info on the survey) and asked participants to rate how strong they found them, ranging from very weak to very strong.

What I was interested in is how religious belief (theism/atheism/agnosticism) affects the assessment of these arguments. Initially, pooling all arguments together, it seemed like PoR had little effect, but when considering each argument separately, it turns out that PoR does influence the assessment of individual arguments. There were also gender effects.

Earlier on this blog, I have reported results of a survey on natural theological arguments (N=802), see here and here. To briefly recall, the survey asked philosophers to rate the strength of natural theological arguments, grouped into 8 arguments that seek to support belief in the existence of God, and 8 arguments that seek to support belief in metaphysical naturalism. My initial analysis indicated that religious belief (theism, atheism or agnosticism) reliably predicts the extent to which people will evaluate these arguments. However, in my analysis I examined only the effects of religious belief on the total overall assessments, not the arguments individually. In this post, I will report some fine-grained analyses on how philosophers evaluate individual arguments, as a function of their religious belief, gender and whether or not they specialize in philosophy of religion. Since the statistics are quite detailed, I will make this a two-part post, starting out by the positive arguments. The analyses have been conducted by Robert O'Brien, a statistician at the University of Miami.