Stephen Law and the Evil God Challenge: The Evidently Problematic Argument

                William Lane Craig recently completed his tour of the United Kingdom in which he participated in several debates and several lectures. The kick-off event of the tour was a debate with British philosopher Stephen Law, who is an atheist and is the editor of the journal Think, produced by the Royal Institute of Philosophy. In this post, I want to examine the main argument that Law offered during the debate, as well as to examine his subsequent defense of it in his radio debate with philosopher Glenn Peoples.

                Law’s main argument was actually a combination of an argument and a challenge to theists. He contended that the evidential problem of evil fatally undermines belief in a good God, and to pre-empt some theodicies that theists might offer, he issued what he calls the “Evil God Challenge.” The EGC essentially asks the theist to imagine meeting someone who believed in an evil God. A God who wants to maximize the amount of pain or suffering that creatures experience. A God who is essentially hateful and cruel. Law claims that people naturally and justifiably recoil from and reject such an idea because, he says, the amount of good in the world just seems too great for there to be a malevolent omnipotent being trying to maximize evil. Now Law envisions that the proponent of the Evil God Hypothesis (EGH) offers a number of reverse theodicies to show that the amount of good in the world really is not inconsistent with an evil God. For instance, Evil God allows freedom of the will so that evil will be increased by free, wicked choices that men make. Or Evil God allows some good in order to maximize the pain one experiences by the loss of something good. Etc… But Law still thinks that people justifiably deny the existence of an evil God. It just seems so obvious that no such being exists. So, Law challenges, if a theist thinks that the amount of good in the world defeats the idea of an evil God, why does the theist not also admit that the amount of evil in the world defeats the idea of a good God (that is, why does the theist not admit that the evidential problem of evil carries)? This is the Evil God Challenge.

                I think the challenge misfires on a number of levels. Fist and most importantly, the challenge assumes that a theist will deny the EGH on the basis of the amount of good in the world. Surely the world contains far too much good to be the creation of an evil god, right? Well, maybe not, since Law can reverse many theodicies used to defend the good God hypothesis (GGH) so that they defend the EGH equally well. Consequently, the EGH is as immune to criticism which is based on the amount of good the world contains as the GGH is to criticism which is based on the amount of evil the world contains. How immune it is depends on what the theist is willing to concede. So why do theists dismiss the EGH on the basis of what Law calls the evidential problem of good, but accept the GGH despite the evidential problem of evil? This seems inconsistent, and so seems to undermine the rationality of theism.

                Law is correct that this is inconsistent and that it undermines the theist’s position. But this is only for the theist who thinks that the EGH is falsified by the amount of good in the world. Because the challenge is, in part, to explain why the evidential problem of evil fails against the GGH but the evidential problem of good does not fail against the EGH. But suppose a theist agrees that each evidential problem fails. In this case there is no inconsistency, and hence the Evil God Challenge fails to apply.

                Law cannot carry his argument if the theist merely rejects the EGH; the EGH must be rejected because of the evidential problem of good. But as I’ve argued in an earlier post, arguments from evil (or good) are very difficult to sustain, and rely almost entirely upon intuition. This seems to be the case with the EGC as well. The theist naturally and intuitively thinks that God is good rather than evil, and so rejects the EGH. However, because this rejection is natural and intuitive, the theist may not fully understand his reasons for rejecting it, and for thinking that a good, rather than an evil, God exists. So the EGC can tend to catch the theist off guard, causing him to fire off the first thing that comes to mind: there’s just too much good in the world. But if the theist gives it more careful thought he will see that these are inadequate grounds for rejecting the EGH. So, if the theist gives it more careful thought, he will see that Law’s challenge is not really problematic. One need not be (and should not be) inconsistent in rejecting the EGH.

                But why does Law think that very often a theist will reject the EGH because of the good in the world? He says that theists often give this reason, and I think we’ll take him at his word. But what I do not accept is that the EGC still somehow applies to theists who reject the EGH on the basis of, say, the moral argument or the ontological argument rather than the good in the world. Law seems to think that this is the only way a theist could respond, because he seems to think the EGC carries broadly and covers theism generally rather than applying only to those whose inconsistencies it exposes.  

If all Law wants to know is how the existence of an evil God is any less supported than that of a good God, then he should ask that instead. He notes that the Kālam Cosmological Argument (which I’ve endorsed) and the fine-tuning argument, and many other key arguments for God’s existence say nothing of the moral properties of God. There could as easily be an evil prime mover instead of a good one. I think Law is right. Obviously the moral properties of the creator or designer cannot be deduced from the mere presence of creation or design. So far, then, an evil God is just as likely as a good one. But Law seems to think it stops there. He seems to think that is all the reason the typical theist has to believe that God is good.

In a recent radio debate between Law and Christian philosopher Glenn Peoples, Law was given a bit more. Peoples rebutted Law’s challenge by saying that on the basis of some of the main arguments for God’s existence, God could be either good or bad. But someone who believes that God is good might do so because of a moral argument for God's existence which relies on a verisimilitudinous moral sense. We sense moral facts and feel obligation to do what is good, and this seems to imply that the person to whom we are morally obligated and from whom moral values derive is Himself good. Law, on the other hand, wanted to say that even if we grant that arguments for God’s existence (that is, except the moral argument) go through, we still don’t know whether this God is good or bad in the basis of those arguments. Moreover, the idea of an evil God is “clearly absurd.” How then is the idea of a good God also not clearly absurd?

Again, the theist can afford to concede to Law that the EGH is clearly absurd. But a reflective person might note that the mere presence of good in the world is not the thing which makes it absurd. If Law asserts the GGH and the EGH just are clearly absurd, then it seems he is begging the question in favor of the evidential problem of evil. What he needs to show is that the evidential problem of evil succeeds in defeating theism. If it does not, then it’s not at all clear that theism is absurd.

Law notes (rightly) that the EGH admits some of the same defenses as the GGH. But Law seems to think this implies that the GGH and the EGH are equally well evidenced. This is why he asks why we ought to think that the GGH is any more plausible than the absurd EGH. But this seems to imply that Law sees theodicies as some sort of evidence of truth. That is, that a theodicy which defends the GGH should be construed as evidence that the GGH is actually true. Only if Law assumes this does it make any sense to think that the GGH and the EGH are equally evidenced if they share some useful defenses. I think it is fair to note here what should be pretty obvious without noting it: that an explanation of how A is not less probable given B is not evidence that A is actual. So the EGH and the GGH could share all of the same theodicies and it could still be the case that the GGH is far more probable and highly evidenced than the EGH.

This leads into the topic of the actual evidence for a good God vs. an evil God. In the debate with Glenn Peoples (of whom I’m a fan), Law asserts that there is a scale, as it were, which is equally balanced with evidence for a good and an evil God (via the evidential problems of evil and good). Law asks the theist to offer something which tips the scale in favor of a good God, but he expects that something to be significantly big. One might wonder if Law is doing as I argued John Loftus does concerning the problem of evil in raising the proof-bar unreasonably high. Peoples predictably mentioned the moral argument (the argument which infers a good God from our moral sense and experiences of morality as in some sense commands issued by a being which constitute our moral duties and the commission of which we are held responsible for). The moral argument rests upon two premises which seem pretty plausible: that moral facts would not exist if God did not, and that moral facts do exist. This is not enough for Law because he thinks that each premise is questionable. He says that ethicists commonly reject the first premise (he does not explain why) and that evolution provides us with an explanation of why we would think the second premise is true even if it is false.

Here Peoples defends the moral argument by noting that Law has done nothing to undermine the first premise (P1) except to state that it is questionable (the big question is “why?”). But Law claims that he does not have to defeat P1 because even if P1 is true, he can still reject the moral argument itself by denying P2, that there are moral facts. Law thinks that the evidential problem of evil is such powerful evidence against a good God that it overwhelms the moral argument, even the existence of moral facts themselves. Peoples rightly and bluntly summarizes Law’s view by noting that, in essence, Law thinks it is more obvious that God does not exist than that it is wrong to torture babies for fun. It is unlikely that many others will agree with Law here. But this gives us another opportunity to explore another layer to Law’s position: the possibility that it is self-defeating.

Suppose Law is right to reject P2 of the moral argument; suppose moral facts do not exist. It becomes very difficult to see how there could be an evidential problem of “evil” in this case. So if P2 is false, the grounds Law offers for rejecting the GGH seem to evaporate.  Additionally, Peoples significantly points out in his post-mortem of the debate that Law undercuts his own position by arguing that, via the processes of unguided evolution, we come to believe that something is true even though it is false. Peoples references the work of Alvin Plantinga here, which I hope to address in a later blog post. The short version is that Law seems to admit that evolution produces cognitive faculties which are not necessarily aimed at producing true belief. It can be beneficial to believe false things, as Law argues in the case of moral facts. But if we have reason to think that our brains are not necessarily trying to produce true belief, in what sense can they be trusted to produce true beliefs? Or can they?

To summarize, Law says that theists who dismiss an evil God because there’s too much good in the world should also as a matter of consistency dismiss a good god because there’s too much evil in the world. His “evil God challenge” (EGC) is to explain why they do not do this. I argue that if we suppose the reason that one dismisses an evil God is not at all because of the amount of good in the world, but because of the moral argument for a good God, or just because there’s no reason to suppose that God is in fact evil, or because of the ontological argument, etc… then there is no longer an inconsistency when the theist maintains that the amount of evil in the world does not disprove a good God. Ergo the challenge fails to challenge a theist such as this. Additionally, Law seems to beg the question in favor of the evidential problem of evil, and seems to think that theodicies are treated as evidences of the truth of the views they are constructed to defend. Law thinks (wrongly) that there is equal evidence for good and evil deities, and demands something much more powerful than a logically valid, deductive argument with premises that Law asserts can be challenged but declines to actually challenge, and which most people find plausible. As well, he does not address the ontological argument which, if successful, concludes that a necessarily good God exists. Law declines to address the moral argument with specifics because he thinks it is far more obvious that God does not exist than that moral facts exist (a view which will likely not be widely shared), and as an explanation of why we might think there are moral facts when there are not, Law appeals to evolutionary biology. One might justifiably ask Law whether evolutionary biology also undermines his intuition of the power of the evidential argument from evil, for instance. At any rate, if one denies that there are moral facts, then one denies that God could even in principle violate one, and so one denies that there is any problem of evil, evidential or logical, because there just is no evil. Hence if there are no moral facts, Law’s intuition about the problem posed to God by evil becomes highly questionable. And if Law admits that evolution might supply humans with reasoning faculties which are not really aimed at producing true beliefs, then one wonders why we should think anything we believe is true. We cannot use our own reasoning to show that it is, since that is begging the question. For these and other reasons, I (not casually, though) dismiss the Evil God Challenge; I do not see that it succeeds in doing anything important, and the way that Law defends it seems to undermine his own case for atheism. 

Objections to the Kālam Cosmological Argument

     One of my first posts in this blog was a post outlining and defending the Kālam Cosmological Argument. It is a very easy argument to understand, and it’s premises are generally accepted by the average person, which is one reason I regard the argument so highly. It is not, however, without its detractors, and I would be first in line to point this out. The KCA is a contentious argument. So I was not surprised to find a reader of this blog posting some objections to it in the comment section of that post. In brief, he rejects each premise as well as the conclusion. But in order to outline the objections he raises, I think it’s best to review the KCA a bit.

P1: Everything which begins to exist has a cause.

P2: The universe began to exist.

P3: Therefore the universe has a cause.

Objections To Premise 1:

“You employ (P1) either as a strong statistical generalization or as an a priori truth. If the latter, then (P1) is patently false. First, I would argue- pace W.V.O Quine- that there are no a priori truths. Second, there is no logical contradiction in conceiving of an event which has no cause.”

     I employ P1 as metaphysical intuition; I do think that we can arrive at its truth without appealing to our experience, and in that sense I think it is an a priori truth. Now, my reader wants to argue that there are no a priori truths. Well, I’d be happy for him to argue that. He does not do it here, and I fail to see how “I would argue that X is the case” is a substitute for actually arguing that X is the case. But in fact his claim is stronger than this; he says that my claim is “patently false,” and the evidence that he offers is that he “would argue” that it is false, and second that it is logically possible to conceive of an uncaused event. That’s as may be. But P1 says nothing about events as such. It speaks of things beginning to exist. It can be the case that some events are uncaused but that all things which begin to exist are caused to do so. We can see therefore that the statements “Everything which happens has a cause” and “Everything which begins to exist has a cause” are logically distinct propositions. The KCA asserts the latter, and it will do no good in rebutting the KCA to state that the former is logically coherent.

     An a priori truth is a truth which we can know independently of experience. It is, as it were, a truth which we can know by mere reflection, or conceptual analysis. This is relevant because P1 is often defended as a metaphysical principle, the falsehood of which is metaphysically impossible (note that metaphysical impossibility is not identical with logical impossibility). Now, Eamon contends that, since there are no a priori truths, we cannot a priori rule out a-causal geneses. We cannot rule out things beginning to exist without a cause until we have perhaps done some investigation of it. But such investigation is something defenders of P1 normally claim is unnecessary. So I’ll first examine his claim that there are no a priori truths.

     If he is correct, then we can know nothing without having done some sort of investigation or research; without gathering data in some way. First, this does not contradict P1; it merely attacks our justification for believing P1 to be an a priori truth. It does not rule out our knowing P1 on evidential grounds. Second, suppose we ask whether the following statement is true: “There are no a priori truths.” Obviously if this is true, it is not true a priori. So then it must be justified by evidence, right? But Eamon offers no evidence for it. Indeed, as an epistemological beginning point, it is difficult to see how evidence for this statement is even possible. It is itself a foundational assertion about epistemology and justification which all further claims to knowledge will have to satisfy; it is not itself satisfied by evidence. Consequently, as an assertion about the way in which knowledge must be justified, it seems to be self-refuting.  But if so, then a priori truths are possible, and P1 could in principle be such a truth.

     The objector seems to think that any proposition which is not self-contradictory could be true, but this ignores the distinction between logical possibility and metaphysical possibility. As such, the objection is not that P1 is false, but that we can negate it without committing to logical self-contradiction. Perhaps so, but this does not mean that it is really possible. The statement “I walked through the wall without damaging it or myself,” is logically non-contradictory, but this does not imply that this statement is really plausibly true, or even possibly true. So the objector seems to misunderstand the justification for P1, thinking that it is offered as logically impossible when the impossibility is really postulated to be of a metaphysical sort.

“I find that the available scientific evidence does not justify any inference to statements of ultimate causation – or lack of it.”

     In the first place, I might simply concede that the available scientific evidence does not justify statements of ultimate causation. But this seems to be an objection to P1 only if we include the following statement: “propositions which are not justified by the available scientific evidence are not justified at all.” If we add this, then the objection is patently false, since it, as an epistemological principle, is itself unjustified by the available scientific evidence. If we do not include it, then, as I say, there seems to be no significant objection to P1. We might just as well say that the available scientific evidence does not justify the view that an external world exists. True…but trivially true, and we are fully rational to accept the external world on other grounds.

     But on the other hand, must I accept that the available scientific evidence does not justify inferences to statements of ultimate causation? Rather, science seems to rely upon this assumption (I have not claimed that it is inferred, so the objection is a straw man) that things which begin to exist have causes, else it seems futile to try to understand the world in terms of predictions of future events by studying current or past events. It seems absurd to suggest that, for instance, science does not at least search for underlying causes of things beginning to exist. Species began to exist, and we do not typically find scientists declining to search for a cause on the grounds that scientific inferences do not justify statements of ultimate causation. They do search for a cause. And a cause of the cause. And so on as far back as they are able. If science does not or cannot in principle justify statements of ultimate causation, then this shows merely that science is not omni-competent; it does not at all show that statements of ultimate causation are unjustified.

     But here we come to an interesting rabbit trail: my objector would deny that species began to exist presumably because he denies the A-theory of time (which I’ll come to in a moment) but more importantly because he is a mereological nihilist. Mereological nihilism is the view that composite objects do not exist. So according to my objector, I do not exist, he does not exist, no trees, rocks, animals, elements, etc… exist. Only whatever is not composed of parts exists. For our purposes we might suggest that sub-atomic particles are simple and not composed of parts. A mereological nihilist would say, then, that only sub-atomic particles exist. So then, strictly speaking, the material of which “I” am composed exists, but the entity composed of that material does not.

“…causality appears to break down completely in quantum processes, and good experimental data show that quantum vacuum fluctuations and virtual particles come into existence (i.e. create measurable effects such as the Lamb effect and the Casimir-Polder force) acausally all the time.”

     So what of this claim? First of all, it does not seem to be the case that “come into existence” and “create measurable effects” are at all identical. Something which comes into existence would no doubt create a measurable effect. But something which already exists also can create a measurable effect. If so, then there is no identity between these two terms. If no identity, then they are logically distinct concepts, and we cannot infer that some measured effect represents the uncaused-coming-into-existence of something.

     But at any rate, the vacuum, in which these fluctuations take place is, in the words of physicist Laurence Krauss (himself an agnostic), “really a boiling bubbling brew of virtual particles that are popping in and out of existence in a time-scale so short you can’t see them.” If the vacuum did not exist, would these particles still be popping into and out of existence? This does not seem to be the case. But if not, then the vacuum represents at the very least a causal condition which has to be satisfied in order to produce un-caused virtual particles.

     The primary thing to relate here is that there are multiple interpretations of quantum physics, and not all of them are indeterministic. For instance, the Bohmian interpretation, as noted by Craig, is fully deterministic, the appearance of acausality residing only in our minds. Moreover, Bohmian mechanics is empirically indistinguishable from interpretations of quantum physics which are indeterministic; one cannot tell on the basis of the empirical evidence which, if any, of these interpretations is correct. So if the atheist wishes to use the “indeterminacy of quantum physics” argument, he is appealing to some indeterministic interpretation which is only as empirically  justified as some deterministic one. To suggest that quantum physics just shows that things come into existence uncaused is at best highly misleading and at worst a lie. It shows nothing like that. Therefore supposed indeterminacy in quantum physics is not a good counter-example to P1.

To Premise 2:

“If time and space came into being at the initial development of the universe, then there could be no time in which the universe 'began' to exist.”

     Time is a feature of the universe which, rather than describing events or things in spacial terms (above, behind, to the right of, etc…), describes events or things in earlier-than and later-than terms. Time is, in a very real way, a fourth dimension; objects endure through time just as they do through space. The objection is logically equivalent to saying that time must be eternal in the past, since there is no “time” at which it could begin to exist. But time is just the temporal relation between events. It follows that if time is eternal in the past, so are events, and hence the universe. So the objection entails that the universe did not begin to exist, which is question-begging. What a good objection must do is argue that the universe is eternal in the past, not just assert something which entails that. Furthermore, the objection seems incoherent because it assumes that if time began to exist, it would have to do so in a time (he says there is no “time” in which the universe ‘began’ to exist). And what a philosopher of time might suggest is that, while we are currently at T=n seconds, the beginning of time happens at T=0. The universe and time itself began to exist at T=0, and there seems to be nothing conceptually problematic about this. Time begins to exist at a point but not at a time, except perhaps T=0.

“it certainly could not be the case that god could have 'caused' the universe to come into being since for y 'to cause' x entails that there are temporal relations which exist between y and x. But per the hypothesis there is no time before x, and thus no temporal relations which might exist between y and x.”

This objection is equivalent to stating that there are no a-temporal events. All causes precede their effects in time, necessarily. But this ignores simultaneous causation. The famous example (for instance in C.S. Lewis) is a ball resting on a cushion from eternity. Obviously the ball causes the depression in the cushion, rather than the curvature of the depressed cushion causing the roundness of the ball. But if they rest this way from eternity, it is false that causes must precede their effects in time. The objection relies on the impossibility of simultaneous causation. In order to defeat P2, the objector must show that it is impossible, and indeed, he tries. He states that:

“…simultaneous assymetrical [sic] causation entails that the causal influences between x and y propagate instantaneously, which is problematic since the special theory of relativity limits the transmission of causal influences to the speed of light. Thus, x and y cannot occur simultaneously.”

     This seems to miss the point, because we are here talking timeless causation in which, timelessly, there exists a dependency relationship between x and y. As in my example, a ball resting timelessly on a cushion does cause the cushion to depress. Special relativity applies within space-time; even if special relativity decisively rules out simultaneous causation within the universe, it is no way follows that without the universe simultaneous causation is impossible. And besides, the objector has not too previously insisted that the scientific evidence does not justify statements of ultimate causation; how then does he suppose Einstein’s theory of SR to absolutely and ultimately preclude simultaneous causation? SR does not directly address the type of causal relationship the cause of the universe is asserted to have with the universe because it applies within, rather than without, space-time.

“Theists cannot avail themselves of standard cosmological models of the origin of the universe *and* employ finiteness arguments consistently. E.g., in Big Bang cosmology, the infant universe is held to entail infinite density, pressure, and temperature if interpreted via general relativity (we have no other macro-level interpretation).”

     The objection asserts that theists are being inconsistent here in arguing against the existence of an actual infinite while conceding standard cosmological models which entail infinite density, pressure, and temperature at the singularity from which the universe evolved. But the problem the theist sees with infinites pertains to their countability. That is, an infinite number of discrete things (events in the past) could be counted, can be assigned numbers, and absurdities result from doing certain mathematical functions with these numbers. This is not so with the infinite heat etc. of the early universe. So the theist’s objection to actual infinite quantities cannot be construed as an objection to qualitatively infinite things; the term “infinite” is not used to refer to the same thing in these two cases, and so the atheist objection seems to equivocate by treating them as if it is.

“there is no contradiction or absurdity entailed in saying that… before any point in time there was a preceding point in time.”

     Let’s translate this. If before every point in time there is a prior point, then before every point in time there are an infinite number of prior points. This seems straightforward when one thinks about it. So the objection seems about the same as saying that there is no contradiction entailed by suggesting that the past is eternal. But then, the objector must have a defeater for the philosophical arguments offered in support of the finitude of the past. And since I’m responding here to a specific person, all I can really say is that this individual did not offer any defeaters. Moreover if Craig’s arguments in favor of the finitude of the past are successful, then there is absurdity in asserting a proposition which entails infinite past time. If the past must be finite, as Craig argues, then at least some point is time (i.e. the first) has no preceding point. What the atheist has to show is that Craig’s arguments against the eternality of the past are false, and only then can he assert that there is no contradiction or absurdity in claiming infinite past time.

“…one can either let one's (antiquated medieval) metaphysics direct one's science, or let one's science direct one's metaphysics. Apparently, and unadvisedly, you insist on former: That all that which begins to exists requires a cause is very much an empirically testable hypothesis and the *best* experimental data reveal that causation breaks down in a fundamental way. To be sure, the data indicate that causation is rather a macro-level description and has no home in the quantum world.”

     To his credit, the objector did apologize for any rudeness contained in his comments to me, and for that I’m appreciative. Consequently I’ll divest my reply of sarcasm to the extent that I’m able. I’ve already addressed the germ of this comment at some length, but in particular I’m puzzled by his comment about metaphysics directing one’s science. Science only proceeds upon the back of certain assumptions. For instance that the external world exists and is intelligible, that the future will be like the past, etc… These are not truths which derive from science; rather they are necessary in order to do science. Consequently it seems to me that, necessarily, one’s metaphysics will direct one’s science to some extent; science only works given certain metaphysical assumptions. Now as to whether I (advisedly or not) insist on this, the answer is yes. I do insist on this. I fail to see how science could proceed with no metaphysical direction at all.

     P1 is indeed testable to some extent, but the assertion that the best empirical evidence suggests its falsehood seems to be an unproven assertion. To which evidence does he refer? We’ve already seen that no interpretation of quantum mechanics cries out to us as true over and above the others, so on what basis does he contend that an indeterministic interpretation is better evidenced than or should be preferred to a deterministic one?

 “(Note that below there is much not mentioned [in particular Dr Craig's implicit employment of the contentious A-theory of time in the KCA], but the following remarks should suffice.)”

     This seems bizarre. The objector remarks that the A-theory of time is contentious. Note that the A-theory holds that only the present is real; the past and the future are not real. This sounds like it could be contentious until it is better understood. The A-theory holds that there is a past and will be a future. Past events were real when they were present events, but are no longer real. Compare this to the B-theory of time, which holds that past, present, and future events are all equally real. Now I say this objection is bizarre because an early comment made by my objector makes it clear that he himself accepts the A theory. He states that for x to cause y, there must be a temporal relationship between x and y. He seems to mean that x must precede y in time in order to cause it, and in this manner he thinks he has ruled out simultaneous causation. But x preceding y in time requires that the A-theory of time is correct over and above the B-theory. So is the objector just drawing attention to the fact that the A versus the B theory of time is contentious, although he personally holds the A-theory? It is difficult to tell. If this is all he is doing, then he may as well not have, since literally all the issues discusses herein are contentious in some respect. Moreover, he says that “the following remarks should suffice,” which implies temporal becoming, which is what the B-theory denies.

He gives a further comment concerning it, however:

“An A-theory of time is no longer plausible given Einstein's special theory of relativity and thermodynamics.”

     The comment seems to suggest that a new state of affairs has obtained; that we have gone from a state of plausibility concerning the A-theory of time to a state of implausibility as a consequence of Einstein’s special theory of relativity. This is, again, bizarre, because this seems to me to imply temporal becoming, which is just what a B theorist of time denies. He does not elaborate on the exact nature of the implausibility, and I do not want to speculate about what his objection precisely is.

“The best relevant cosmological models entail that space-time came into existence with the 'Big Bang'. Thus, the universe was not created 'in' time, which is to say there was no time 'before' the universe. (To assert otherwise is ipso facto to assert that there is something like a Newtonian absolute time in which the universe began to exist.) Hence, we may say that there is no time at which the universe did not exist.”

     This, far from being an objection, concedes P2 of the argument. The universe began to exist, but it did not do so “in time.” That is, time came into existence along with the universe rather than at a discrete point along some timeline which could contain temporal points “prior to” the universe. Time, like matter, is a feature of the universe. Just as the universe was not created “in time” it was not created “in space” since space itself came into existence with the big bang. So yes, we may agree that “there is no time at which the universe did not exist,” but as the objection concedes that the universe (and time) began to exist, it also concedes that the number of events in the past history of the universe is finite. And for my part, I would be happy to agree with the objector insofar as he asserts this.

Richard Dawkins and Smoked Fish

     This is a slight deviation from my routine, but I can’t pass up an opportunity to comment on the epic controversial non-exchange of ideas set to not-happen at Oxford, England on the 25th of this month. There, philosopher, theologian, and world-famous Christian apologist William lane Craig has been invited to a public debate with former Oxford professor and world-famous atheist apologist Richard Dawkins. Dawkins has for years refused to debate Craig, and has offered numerous reasons for this refusal, the most recent of which seems to be that he finds Craig’s view of the genocide commanded by God in the Old Testament to be morally repugnant. He claims that Craig is an “apologist for genocide” and that he (Dawkins) would rather leave a theatrically poignant empty chair at the Oxford debate than to share a platform with Craig. The organizers of the Craig/Dawkins debate plan to leave an empty chair on the stage in order to give Dawkins a chance, ‘til the final minutes before the debate, to change his mind. Presumably if Dawkins continues to refuse, the chair will remain empty on the stage as a reminder of Dawkins’ absence, and Craig will present prepared criticisms of Dawkins’ book The God Delusion.

       It will be lost on no one who pays attention to the Dawkins/Craig media interest that Dawkins has over the years offered a number of reasons for declining to debate Craig, including that such a debate would not look good on his CV, that he is too busy to debate someone whose “only claim to fame” is that they are a professional debater, that he does not engage creationists, that he does not wish to aid Craig’s “relentless drive for self-promotion,” et. al.  His most recent reason, which is (here I probably diverge from most evangelicals who’ve pushed for this debate) better than his previous ones, is that Craig does not shy away from taking God’s commandments in the Old Testament to kill all the Canaanites literally, and thinks it can be morally justified. Strangely, Craig even muses that the people who suffered the most from this command might be the Israeli soldiers who carried out the killings. Now Dawkins says this: “Any decent bishop, priest, vicar or rabbi would agree [that a good and loving god would not issue such a command].” What Dawkins objects to is, apparently, that Craig tries to defend God’s command. He wonders, “What context could possibly justify [these commands]?” and then states that he will not share a platform or shake hands with someone who, like Craig, could “write stuff like that.”

            I’m sympathetic to Dawkins’ view. I would not wish to share the stage (that is, to be congenially associated with) someone who endorses clearly immoral and morally obnoxious views as though they were good. But now ask it another way. Would I, as someone of moral and intellectual integrity, wish to denounce such views publicly, in a forum which will attract a world audience? Would I wish to take the moral high ground and show clearly and rationally that no context could justify the issuance of such commands? Would I have any self-respect remaining if, rather than loudly and publicly deprecating a view which is degrading to humanity, I boycotted the discussion? If I refused to specify the nature of the wrongness of the view? If I refused to defend my censure of it, preferring to just…assert my censure of it? If I said, in effect, “he holds some silly, dangerous, and wrong views, and I can by no means be expected to show this publicly”?

            I think Dawkins is partially correct: if Craig’s view, rightly understood, is morally repugnant, one should be morally outraged. But what response ought moral outrage to get from us? Surely a decisive public reckoning? Surely we call the offenders publicly to account for their views? Surely we defeat them? Or we could just refuse to give them the oxygen of publicity, and hope their views asphyxiate upon the rocks of our moral superiority? Considering that in many places Christianity is growing, I doubt that Craig’s view will naturally suffer such a demise, so it seems that the task falls to the enlightened secularists of our time to initiate a devastating attack. Which makes it all the more urgent for Dawkins to, in a clear and rational exchange, show that this view is wrong.  

            But strangely, it is not clear that Dawkins is the man to do this. In a recent interview with U.K. radio personality Justin Brierley, Dawkins admits, in essence, that on his moral view, actions like rape are not really wrong since on his view there are no objective moral values. Human beings are the product of an evolutionary process which favored species who hold the view that rape is wrong But Dawkins is now criticizing Craig for holding a view which Dawkins’ own view says is not morally wrong? It seems clear to me that Dawkins’ view is incoherent, since he denies objective moral value, denies that human opinion of objective moral value is necessarily properly calibrated, yet he condemns the commands of God as immoral, and presumably condemns Craig for defending them. Ironically, the worldview in which moral objectivism (which is required to pronounce moral guilt) is most comfortable is theism itself, the very view that Dawkins denies. So even in his refusal to debate Craig, he is inconsistent with his atheism.

            But there is a further problem, it seems to me: he assumes that Craig is wrong to defend God’s commands in the Old Testament. But this assumption properly results from an analysis of divine command ethics, which would no doubt occur in a proper debate, whether written or oral. But this is the sort of interchange which Dawkins just refuses to have. Moreover, his objection relies on the assumption that the moral argument and the ontological argument for the existence of God are false, since he assumes an objective moral standard external to God and by which God could be judged, but if the moral and ontological arguments are correct, it seems that there is no such standard. 

The Evidential (Probabilistic) Problem of Evil: Part 2

In the previous post, I outlined the typical trajectory of the evidential problem of evil (EPE), and explicated the nature of what the non-theist alleges that it can show. Further, I explained that as an argument against the existence of God, the person making the argument assumes a burden of proof concerning the assumptions made by the EPE. This burden of proof holds regardless of whether the defender of the EPE acknowledges it. If she declines to defend the assumptions made therein, then the theist might justifiably decline to accept the conclusion of the EPE as probably correct.

One assumption of the EPE is that evils/suffering that we observe are probably gratuitous; that is, that they occur for no purpose. But it seems clear that a benevolent being would not allow evils to occur without having sufficient reason for it. Thus the apparent gratuitousness of some evils, the EPE supposes, presents some evidence that no such being exists. But the theist may have a number of potential replies, such as the reply that evil events present an opportunity for moral growth, and that the opportunity for moral growth justifies the allowance of some evil. Or, for instance, that those experiencing the suffering here and now will be compensated for it later in heaven. Etc…

As I mentioned, atheist philosopher John Loftus articulates the EPE in a way which more or less, he thinks, is immune from theodicies such as these. He asks us to imagine the pre-human world complete with a vicious kill-or-be-killed cycle of animal pain and death. The fossil record is replete with examples of animals which suffered and/or died in painful ways. For instance, we can imagine a little fawn trapped by an approaching forest fire, unable to flee in any direction without being scorched to death. Unable to lay still without suffocating on the smoke. Imagine such an animal trembling with sweat, unable to understand or appreciate any good in its situation. Unable to experience moral growth from its fear and pain. It will not be repaid in heaven.  It will suffer and die after only a few months of life. Loftus then asks what might justify God’s allowance of this event. This is, in brief, what he calls the Darwinian problem of evil (DPE). Suffering and evil for which no free agent other than God could take responsibility; suffering experienced by a creature which is unable to benefit from it, and the suffering of whom appears to benefit no one and nothing else. In other words, gratuitous suffering.

Loftus is aware that philosophers and theologians have not simply ignored the DPE; some have offered responses to it, and Loftus examines some of those responses in the relevant chapter in his book “The Christian Delusion.” Loftus seeks something a great deal stronger than what Alvin Plantinga calls a “defense,” since a defense is more or less a way of reconciling the logical consistency of a set of concepts. The EPE already concedes the mere logical consistency of evil and God. Rather, Loftus expects a theodicy. He expects a plausible explanation of what God’s morally justifying reasons are in fact. A list of what those reasons could be for all we know will not satisfy Loftus. And in “The Christian Delusion” he lays out and responds to a number of theodicies which pertain to the DPE. I will here examine his views point by point.

I’ll begin with some “in principle” observations. First, in my view, Loftus makes the burden of proof far too heavy on the theist. Having done essentially nothing to show that apparently gratuitous suffering is in fact gratuitous, he expects the theist to show to a high degree of plausibility that it is in fact not gratuitous. One might ask Loftus to explain what gives us initial reason for supposing suffering of this kind to be gratuitous. It seems to be because it appears gratuitous. That is, no morally justifying reason readily presents itself. But this relates back to the old saying that “absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.” The fact that no reason is obvious to us is not, by itself, evidence that there is no reason. Absence of evidence is only evidence of absence when we would expect to find evidence if it existed. But it does not appear to be obvious that God’s morally justifying reasons for permitting some instance of suffering would be evident to us. Loftus seems to take it for granted that they would be, but he does not defend this assumption. And as per the syllogism I outlined in the previous post, the theist might simply agree that some suffering appears to be without reason, but that nevertheless we have strong independent reason to think God exists, and this undermines the degree to which we see this suffering as in fact gratuitous. That is, we have strong reason to think that God exists, and so we have strong reason to think that suffering like this is in fact purposeful and morally justified, even though we cannot say for certain what God’s purpose is in allowing it.

                So out of the gate the DPE does not appear as problematic as Loftus thinks it is. But there are some other problems with the way Loftus articulates it. Chief among these is that he seems to assume objective moral values and duties, and objective moral culpability. He says that there is no morally justifiable reason for God to allow evils like this. He even calls his problem the “Darwinian Problem of Evil.” Now, evils exist only if there are objective moral facts. If atheism is true, there are no objective moral facts. So if atheism is true, there are no evils. Consequently, Loftus cannot affirm that the allowance of animal suffering is in fact morally evil, since he affirms atheism. But, if animal suffering is actually evil, then moral facts exist and so does God. Loftus is saying that it would be morally unacceptable for God to permit this, but why think this is true? After all, there is no objective moral standard apart from God, and therefore Loftus’ views about what would be objectively bad if objective moral values existed seem to come from…nowhere. Why think that if objective moral facts exist, then the allowance of gratuitous animal suffering (S) is morally bad? He does not justify this assumption, yet it is necessary for his argument to work. He seems to be saying this, “I do not believe that anything is objectively bad in a moral sense. Nevertheless, if something were, then S would be.” If objective moral facts exist, then God exists, and if God exists, then he is the standard by which “good” and “bad” are measured. If so, then God’s moral character is good by definition; there is no external measure of goodness by which we could evaluate God’s permission of something which, to us, appears to be evil.

Loftus thinks the DPE cannot be resolved by an appeal to free will, since human agents were not yet present on the scene. Some Christian philosophers have suggested that Satan bears the blame here; that animal suffering is a consequence of the free-will decisions of Satan, who delights in corrupting and deforming what God has created to be good. Now, this is possible. But is it plausible? Loftus does not think so, because he does not think there’s any evidence that Satan exists. And obviously if Satan does not exist, his free will can hardly resolve the DPE. But it seems to me that one may hear the subtle clank of the goal posts being shifted here. The DPE is a probabilistic argument against the coherence of theism. As such, the atheist must take into account the theistic system which he is criticizing. And the Christian theistic system does include a free moral agents (Satan and the fallen angels) who are present on the scene prior to mankind, and who hate and loathe what God has made. By simply denying that Satan exists, Loftus makes the DPE an argument about the factual status of Christianity rather than the coherence of Christianity. This is, in my view, not a legitimate move.

                As I’ve made clear in my previous post on the logical problem of evil, the act of causing or allowing suffering is not identical with an act of doing something wrong. So by definition, there is no entailment or identity between allowing some instance of suffering and performing an evil act. Hence the DPE as such is not really an argument from evil at all, since not only does Loftus not believe in objective evil, he has not made the case that any instance of suffering God allows is evil, even given the existence of objective moral facts. The argument, then, seems to rest squarely on the shoulders of one huge (and in my view, unwarranted) assumption: that if God existed and had morally sufficient reasons for permitting pre-human animal suffering, we would have knowledge of those reasons. This claim is dubious in itself, but suppose we grant it. As I mentioned, a number of theistic philosophers have offered accounts of what they think God’s reasons might be, and in his book “The Christian Delusion,” Loftus examines and rejects eight of them. So I turn now to an analysis of his examination.

Option One: Animal suffering is a direct consequence of the fall of man, either 1) because animals have always lived with humans, contrary to evolutionary biology and paleontology, or 2) because God retroactively applied the effects of man’s sin to the world and to animals such that animals were created in a state of hostility and competition.

Loftus does not take seriously the first possibility, because he does not consider it to be scientifically plausible. “…such an answer is simply no longer taken seriously by any scientifically literate person…” (p. 244). This may be, but it cannot be dismissed simply on those grounds. Loftus objects that Morris et. al. have to deny the basis of modern science in order to maintain this explanation. Maybe so; but it is nevertheless an adequate theodicy, bearing in mind that it does re-align the three omni-attributes of God. It  simply does not align with current scientific consensus. But is that the only problem with it? Loftus objects that, even if true, it provides no answer for why animals should suffer as a consequence of man’s sin. “What did animals do wrong to deserve this punishment” (p. 244)? This, however, seems to be a fallacious complex question because it assumes that animals did something wrong and that suffering is a punishment for it. The theist must by no means be committed to that.  Another scholar Loftus mentions takes the young earth approach, and seems to admit that the reason is that he cannot explain the suffering of animals any other way. Loftus remarks: “Just look at this biblical scholar squirm, retreat, and take an indefensible position because of the serious nature of the problem natural evil presents to his faith” (245). At this point one might justifiably wonder whether Loftus gets pleasure from seeing this “biblical scholar squirm;” he certainly seems to be seeping disdain, and that is never a good sign when writing sophisticated, highly delicate, and objective analyses . At any rate though, Loftus does make further objection to the young earth approach by stating that it is not even supported by the Bible itself. This was news to me. Loftus says “There is a good amount of biblical evidence [that humans were meat-eaters before the flood]” (p. 246). What is this good amount of evidence, I asked. It seems to basically stem from reading into the biblical texts rather than from doing exegesis. For example, Loftus thinks Adam and Eve must have eaten some of the meat from the animal killed to make clothes for them. Why does he think this? Because otherwise God “just kill[ed] and animal for its skin, like the elephant poacher’s of today’s African jungle do for ivory tusks” (246). This is a bizarre and fallacious approach. It is fallacious because it is an abusive analogy, a type of ad hominem argument. The skin taken from the dead animal for the purpose of protection of Adam and Eve from, for example, the sun’s damaging rays, from wind and cold, etc… is not analogous to the illegal killing of elephants for the purpose of making novelty and luxury items from its tusks. It is bizarre because Loftus already believes that no moral justification can be given for animal suffering (he assumes that the animal killed for its skin in Genesis 3 did in fact suffer, which he does not get from the text), so God would not be any more morally justified in killing the animal for the skin and  the meat than he would be in just killing it for the skin. But that is beside the point. There is no indication in the text that Adam and Eve ate the carcass of this dead animal. That is pure eisegesis. Loftus argues (asserts) that the dominion of man over the fish of the sea seems to make no sense if man was not being given permission to eat fish. Again, that is sheer eisegesis. It is “punting to the possible” as he likes to say, because it is “possible” that that is what the text means. He gives no actual argument that this is probably what the text means. And this seems even more bizarre because, in the verses immediately following this one, mankind is given seeds and plants to eat, and is given authority over “all the earth.” Surely Loftus does not see this as permission to ingest the whole earth… Loftus then wonders why pre-flood peoples would raise cattle if not to eat the meat from the animals. While it is possible that this was the reason, it is equally possible that cattle were kept for dairy and wool products rather than for their meat. In short, it is as plausible to think this than to think what Loftus does, which means he has not carried his case here.

He then discusses Peter Van Inwagon’s “story” about human creatures losing their preternatural powers after the fall. He notes that such a story, although possible, is unsupported by evidence and can be maintained just as a sheer possibility, which is not enough for him. Here I’m tempted by sympathy for Loftus’s view, and I do not blame Loftus for rejecting this theodicy. He wonders why Van Inwagon does not just go the old hard-line creationist way and posit the earth as actually young. But the answer to that question seems fairly obvious: there are some good reasons to believe that the earth is not actually very young. That is an important distinction between Van Inwagon’s story and the young-earth-creationist story. There is actually evidence against a young earth, whereas with Van Inwagon’s story, there simply is not evidence for it.

The next subset of option one is the possibility that human sin antecedently caused animal suffering. Here I think Loftus’ assessment is mostly satisfactory. There are important questions that this view does not or cannot address, and while it is a possibility, the unanswered questions, for me, make it not a preferable position.

Option 2: Satanic corruption of the beasts.

I’ve already addressed Loftus here in some detail, but something more remains to be said. He makes an analogy between God’s permission of satanic corruption of animals and a father letting a pack of wolves into a house full of his children and pets when he (the father) possesses the means to prevent the wolves from entering.  He asks “What could possibly justify this inaction when it’s considered his parental responsibility to protect his children and pets by stopping the wolves…” (p. 251) Loftus means that the father’s actions require justification because, on the face of it, they seem to represent dereliction of his duty as a father. Loftus thinks this is analogous to God. But is it? A human father is responsible on a basic level for providing for the physical safety of his child. It is indeed a gross negligence of this duty to allow wild animals to maul one’s children. But there does not seem to be parity here with God. God’s primary duty, if it can be called a duty at all, is to bring humans to saving knowledge of himself, not to provide comfort, security, or even prolonged life. It is necessary to remember that mainstream Christian theology maintains that every human being who ever lived will live forever. And it is primarily one’s condition in the next life which is God’s concern with respect to humans. The primary concern of a human father is for the immediate needs of the child, and fathers regularly allow children to experience some pain and suffering; in fact, we may desire our children to experience some pain and suffering in order to grow in character and maturity. Now take the Christian worldview: it seems clear that mortal life is a blip on the radar, as it were, and that in the scope of eternity, our sufferings now are trivial, even though they do not feel trivial to us. A child whose father has allowed him to experience a burn from a hot stove, or a jolting fall from a chair may have no frame of reference for his injury. It may feel to him incomparable, the most intense pain he has ever experienced. But from the father’s perspective, which we all grant is a better one, the pain of a slight burn or a bruise is inconsequential when compared to the good which comes from it. Loftus argues as though extended mortal life, and comfort would be God’s primary concerns, but this is patently false. God, if he exists, has a far deeper understanding of what is good and bad for us, and for animals, and it is a mistake to take the greatest concern of a human father and project it onto a creator.

Option 3: Animals do not think and do not consciously feel pain.

Here Loftus relies on Decartes, who argues that animals appear and behave as though they feel pain but actually do not. Descartes thinks they do not because in order to feel pain they would have to have consciousness, and therefore a soul, and Descartes denies that animals have souls. That’s all well and good. Loftus thinks it prima facie implausible (actually he seems to think it ridiculous and absurd) to suggest that animals don’t feel pain. Here, though, he seems to misrepresent Descartes. He acknowledges that Descartes views animals as having “sensation” but not the mental capacity to interpret that sensation as pain, but he spends the bulk of his time debunking Descartes’ followers, who apparently did not think that animals have even sensation. He notes that scientific literature and even many theists themselves grant that animals not only have sensation but feel pain and experience suffering, both physically and emotionally. Perhaps he is right, I don’t know. But more to come on animal sensation later.

Option 4: God does not care about animal suffering.

Here I think I agree with Loftus. I cannot imagine God not caring for the pain and death of His creatures; it is clear that He does actually care, because He commanded man to steward creation by taking dominion over animals. One wonders, though, where Loftus draws the line. Sentience? At what point does an animal become too “low” to experience pain?  And under naturalism, is it the brute fact of pain and suffering which concerns us? If we sedated a dog with a pill, so that the dog no longer could feel and was no longer conscious, would it then be acceptable to vivisect the dog into pieces to watch the sinews and arteries? That seems absurd. In short, I think Loftus really does want to affirm intrinsic value in animals (not to mention people) but his worldview does not have the wherewithal to supply that value.

Option 5: God uses animals for soul- building in humans.

 Here I think Loftus confuses himself. He says that the “soul-building” justification is an explanation of why God does not care about animal suffering. God does not care because He has bigger things to care about. But I see no reason that the soul-building justification should be construed this way. Indeed, one could argue, as I have, that the great value of human soul-building outweighs the suffering animals experience in the process. In this view, it is not that animals are used by God merely as a means to an end and that they have no intrinsic value. It is that the intrinsic value they do have is less than the value of human soul-building. Loftus mainly takes incredulity as his response to this option. He says he’s baffled if Christians still see God as perfectly good and caring in the midst of animal suffering. But the theist may be forgiven for not supposing Loftus’ bafflement to be any kind of argument.

Option Six: God rewards animals in an afterlife for the suffering of this life.

Loftus summarizes three reasons that Christopher Southgate offers for holding this view: that some scriptural texts seem to support it, “that human life is richest when in the presence of other creatures” (p. 258), and that without a resurrection of animals, their suffering in this life would seem unthinkable. Loftus says he doubts “that the first two reasons have any bearing on the existence of a heaven for animals.”  Other than sheer incredulity, does Loftus have a good reason for thinking that Southgate is being disingenuous about his reasons? This seems to me to be a form of question-begging. Loftus is already convinced that no one can offer a good account of animal suffering, so when one is offered, he just doubts that the account is sincere. But the theist could just as easily dismiss Loftus’s arguments as nothing but an attempt to rationalize disbelief in the face of his adultery, humiliation, and divorce. I could express doubt that animal suffering has much to do with his unbelief. We could doubt each other all day long. But this does not seem to be productive. So, Loftus focuses generally on option six, rather than on the specific reasons given for option six. He says that no compensation can morally justify animal suffering. Suppose he’s right that an eternal life for animals is just compensation for pain experienced. I do not see how this is not morally sufficient, since in the Christian view animals in heaven would not be a contingency plan, or a back-up plan. It’s not as though God reserves animal heaven “just in case” something backfires and animals suffer. I do not think in this respect that the problem of animal suffering is any different from the problem of human suffering. Is there anything which could morally justify God’s allowance of human suffering? Well, yes there is. We can see this even on a human level. There is the common example, as I mentioned, of a father allowing his child to touch a hot stove, or fall off a bicycle in order to learn a lesson. Even as humans we see that pain may be permitted and may even be good at times. So it’s not the case that nothing can morally justify suffering. The question is whether animal suffering is qualitatively different in that nothing can morally justify it.

In the Christian worldview, mankind is the pinnacle of creation, having been made in God’s image. But this by no means implies that the rest of what God makes is unimportant to Him. Why think that in a redeemed earth, there will be no animals? Will there be no vegetation, rocks, and soil either? The Bible itself intimates that there will be animals in the redeemed creation: "And the wolf will dwell with the lamb, and the leopard will lie down with the young goat, and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little boy will lead them" (Isaiah 11:6).

Option Seven: A group of related answers including A) It is intrinsically good for God to create from chaos to order; B) That divine hiddenness is necessary for significant human freedom, so that we should not expect to know God’s reasons for allowing suffering.

Loftus engages with Michael Murray here, and notes that Murray himself does not accept all of the explanations in his (Murray’s) book, Nature Red in Tooth and Claw. Loftus sees this as a problem because he construes it to mean that no explanation offered by Murray is particularly compelling. However, in my view there could be any number of reasons God allows animals to suffer, and the sheer multiplicity of reasons that can be offered should give confidence that the problem of suffering with respect to animals is not as hopeless as Loftus thinks. Further, it is important to note that no single theodicy must account for all suffering by itself; they can be applied in many different but sufficient configurations. And, it’s important to remember that Loftus is not looking for a mere possibility in an explanation; he is looking for a likely account of what God’s reasons actually are. I’d primarily like to point out that I think Loftus has not fully presented Murray’s views here. He said that he would pick what he thought were Murray’s strongest arguments, but there is at least one more that he did not mention, which I mentioned before: that animals don’t really consciously experience pain. Loftus interacted only with Descartes on this, but not with Murray. Murray discusses as a possible precedent in scientific literature the phenomenon of blindsight. With blindsight, a person is able to see, but does not fully realize that they have this ability. They may, for instance, be able to catch a ball thrown at them even though they cannot consciously see it. Murray, I think, suggests that this could be the case with animals and pain sensation. They can react to pain, but they do not consciously interpret it as painful. This allows a cat to flee a burning building out of pain, but not to actually experience the suffering of burns. It allows a cat to exhibit adaptive behavior without the experiences which, in humans, would lead to purposeful, conscious action. If this is true, the problem of animal suffering largely evaporates, although Loftus would probably still ask why God created animals at all. One may even suggest that if God creates animals this way, this is evidence of God’s goodness in equipping animals with survival instincts and mechanisms but not with the ability to suffer from them. I want to read Murray’s own words on this, since I have good reason to think that Loftus has avoided the strongest possible arguments Murray offered.

Option Eight: We should not expect to have knowledge of God’s reasons for permitting animal suffering.

Loftus says that in the end, theists “punt” to this alternative. Loftus is forthcoming with the sports analogies, and thinks that “if all theistic arguments fail, it’s still the case that X” is basically the same as admitting that the theistic arguments fail. This is strange to me because Loftus’s whole argument is that suffering is not what we would expect if God exists. Well, on the other hand, what we might expect is simply not to have knowledge of God’s reasons for allowing things to transpire the way he does. Indeed, under Christianity, this is not only the world that we do live in, it is the world we would expect to live in because of the vast separation of God’s ways from our own. And of course, God’s existence cannot be decided based on the mere observation of animal suffering, because there are possible explanations of it and possible counterarguments. The issue will be decided based on the success or failure of those arguments, or the explanatory power of various theodicies, and based on the whole scope of background knowledge we bring to bear on the issue. Indeed, one may urge the issue against Loftus himself. Is a world in which value and meaning seem so obvious the sort of world we would expect if there actually is neither value nor meaning? Is a world in which the existence of God, or of a supernatural reality seems intuitive and evident to a large majority of people the sort of world we would expect if nothing in reality actually corresponded to those intuitions? And on and on. If we are comparing Christian theism to naturalism and answering the question of whether our observations and experience more closely approximates what we would expect given one or the other of these views, I find it terrifically difficult to see naturalism emerging on top in any scenario. It may still be true however, and that is why the question has to go beyond what we would expect to find if it were true. Because our expectations may just be wrong. Darwinism works the same way. Is a social stigma against rape what we would expect to find if those who spread their seed are the most fit? It seems that the rapist would be more fit than the non-rapist if he is willing to compel a woman to bear his offspring. That sounds quite plausible. On the other hand, societies would wish not to allow their own genes to be diluted and would be at enmity with the rapist for doing so. That sounds quite plausible. So under Darwinism, one can write seemingly plausible but contradictory accounts. Is that flexibility what we would expect if Darwinism is so obviously true that no intelligent person could deny it, as Loftus implies toward the YEC theodicy? Again, we could go on and on. And the bottom line for me is that Loftus has not done enough to show that there probably is not a good reason that God allows animal suffering. He has to do this, I think, because he is claiming that it makes God improbable. But all he seems to have done is state that animals suffer, state that a good God who was both able to prevent and knowledgeable about the suffering would have stopped it, and then stated that God’s existence is improbable. But this is far too slick.

        I’ll sum with some general observations and points about Loftus’s chapter, some of which I mentioned before, but which merit further development.

1. He borrows from theism in stating the problem.

This may sound a bit like a presuppositionalist cliché. After all, it’s not as though Loftus is presupposing absolute moral values and then saying that God violated them. He is saying that The Christian view is internally inconsistent, which is a more modest view. That’s why when I heard David Wood charge Loftus with this, my interest was immediately raised. Wood makes this point, which I have since come to see as a significant problem for Loftus: “Absent a theistic worldview itself, which gives a foundation of objective moral values, how do you know what a morally perfect being would do?” This does not at first seem as troublesome as it is, because the atheist may simply say that they’re presupposing Christian theism in order to show the inconsistency between what God is supposed to be like and what actually happens on earth. Wood’s point is this: under atheism, there is no “good” in an objective way. There is no basis for saying one action has the property of being “good” while another action does not. This does not mean atheism is false, but it does rule it out as a source for knowledge of moral facts. So, if Loftus does not get his knowledge that a morally perfect being would eliminate animal suffering  from his atheism, from where does he get it? Because he certainly does not get it from Christian theism itself. Nothing in Christian theism teaches that God’s primary concern is making creatures comfortable or pain-free.  Furthermore, the Bible itself does propose some reasons that suffering exists. The fall both of the angels and of man, the two-world reality which makes the afterlife of primary importance, the existence of animals in the next life, the primacy of humans over animals, and also the reality that humans cannot be expected to be privy to all God’s plans and reasons. Loftus objects that God, if He allowed this, would not be perfectly good, but he makes no argument for this at all. He just states that a quarter of a million people were killed in such and such a disaster and then asks again whether a omni-benevolent God would permit it. Or he says that his own mother, though far from perfect, would not permit it. Etc… But he does not answer the question. How does he know what an omnipotent, omniscient, omni-benevolent being would permit? This question is especially pressing because Loftus’s concept of what “good” is has to be informed by some worldview other than his own, because atheism can’t give an account of moral facts. If he says that he is simply using “good” as it is used under Christianity, then this is not clearly the case. It is no part of Christianity that God’s goodness entails that He minimize or eliminate suffering. This will sound like hair-splitting. After all, do we really need to now ask him to define “good”? Don’t we really all know what good means? Is this not another example of the theist “moving the goalposts” (again with the sports analogies) by redefining “good” so that Christian belief is not falsified? Not at all. Because Loftus is making the positive claim that suffering is a problem for theism, he bears the full burden of proof for showing where the problem lies. And that means that all his presuppositions and the avenues he traverses to reach his conclusion have come in to play (I can use sports analogies too) and can be challenged .And that means that all his presuppositions and the avenues he traverses to reach his conclusion have come in to play (I can use sports analogies too) and can be challenged. And that includes how he contextualizes “good” if the conclusion of his argument is that the being responsible for grounding “good” probably does not exist.

2.  His view seems to reduce to the logical problem of evil.

His final words are that “It does not matter whether human beings or God inflict this suffering upon [animals]. There is no moral justification for it. None” (p. 265). This is logically the same as saying that no offered justification will work, that it is unjustifiable. And that is logically the same as saying that there cannot exist a morally perfect being who could stop but does not stop animal suffering. This seems to be actually no longer an evidential problem of evil; it is a logical one. Loftus’s final words indicate that there is a logical contradiction between the statements “An all-powerful, all-good, all-knowing being exists” and “animals suffer,” since he seems to regard animal suffering as morally unjustifiable. Loftus has not done nearly enough to show a logical contradiction here, because doing so would be equivalent to showing that no possible theodicy could justify it, and that will hardly be apparent, since he’s only reviewed a few of them, and offered straw-man representations of them in some places, and inadequate rebuttals in others.

        3. He seems to ignore the epistemic split between the theist and the atheist.

There are really two problems of evil here. One is how a Christian believer might harmonize theism with the reality of animal suffering. He will most likely require far less explanation than Loftus requires, because he already thinks God exists and is now just looking for some plausible reasons which could be true for all he knows. As Loftus quotes Lewis, from the concept of God we deduce that God has sufficient reasons for permitting animal suffering, even if we don’t know what those reasons are. Perhaps the ontological argument would help here, since it is supposed to establish the existence of a being which is, among other things, morally perfect.  But the other problem is how someone who does not believe that god exists, or positively thinks that God does not exist might view animal suffering. For him, the explanation would have to be very specific and very, very plausible. As Loftus says in his debate with Wood, Wood is asking what reasons God might have, and Loftus is asking whether God exists. Loftus seems to think the theist should be taking the skeptical point of view here, but he’s confused. To someone who already believes that God exists, very little might be required to harmonize that belief with animal suffering. Does that mean the theist expects far too little of a theodicy? I don’t think so. Because we have to remember Plantinga’s work here. Consider a man accused of a crime that he knows he did not commit. Perhaps even all of the evidence indicates that he is guilty, but he is nevertheless rational in maintaining his innocence because he knows that he is innocent, regardless of what the evidence suggests. In this way, someone may be rational in believing in God on the basis of her personal experience of God, even if it appears from nature that God is morally deficient. For this person, the mere possibility of God having a morally sufficient reason for permitting animal suffering will be enough to defeat all of Loftus’s arguments. And rationally so. Loftus does not seem to apprehend this. He seems to think that the theist must jettison his belief and evaluate the evidence as a skeptic would in order to be rational. But consider our analogy again. Must a man accused of a crime jettison his belief in his own innocence, and evaluate the evidence brought by the prosecution as though he were neutral, or even possibly suspicious of his own innocence? Is that the ONLY rational approach to take? Clearly not. He might rationally endeavor to create reasonable doubt in the minds of the jury.  In the same way, a theist may have an experience of God which he is rational to accept regardless of what sort of evidence makes it appear unlikely. The atheist, for him, would have to show that theism is not possible, and that he has to be mistaken in his experience of God. Again, Loftus does not appreciate this point.

So in conclusion, I argue that Loftus makes numerous unjustified assumptions in his exposition of the Darwinian problem of evil, which is a subset of the evidential problem of evil. He confuses his worldview with the Christian one, drawing objective moral facts from Christian theism in order to condemn God as uncaring, immoral, etc… but he rejects that objective moral facts exist. He seems to rely solely on suffering appearing gratuitous, and he does not allow any offered theodicy, no matter how adequate, to overcome this appearance. He unjustifiably privileges the skeptical epistemic position. And in any case his analyses of many theodices are highly problematic.  

The Evidential (Probabilistic) Problem of Evil: Part 1

In the last post, I responded to a second defense of the logical problem of evil: that a benevolent being desires to eradicate all suffering and evil now. I noted that while this may seem true at first, there are a host of exceptions to this generalization, and it is therefore not necessarily the case. But since a benevolent being does not necessarily desire to eradicate all evil and suffering now, it follows that the evil and suffering now observed are not incompatible with the desires of a benevolent being. Thus the second major assumption of the logical problem of evil also fails. I further noted that some theistic philosophers have sought (successfully) to show positively that evil and suffering are consistent with the existence of God. Consequently, most philosophers, including atheistic ones, agree that the so-called logical problem of evil is in fact not problematic after all. It will no doubt take some time for the news of this to trickle down to lay-atheist apologists who have a tendency to neglect the study of views which differ from their own, so I should not be surprised to hear the claim, especially on the internet, that the existence of evil proves that God cannot exist. The continued insistence that this is so, it seems to me, is the result of ignorance (willing or not), and should not at all lessen the confidence of the theist.

                There is another problem of evil, however, which does not seem to be so easily defeated, and still has a number of defenders. This problem essentially is that, while it’s not the case that an omnipotent, omniscient, morally perfect being cannot exist, nevertheless it is the case that such a being very probably does not exist. This results, in a sense, from one of the theistic defenses to the logical problem of evil: that God has morally sufficient reasons for allowing the suffering and evil that we observe.

                The defender of the evidential problem of evil (hereafter EPE) concedes that a certain number of evils could plausibly be allowed by a benevolent God, but that the sheer amount of evil and suffering in the world is improbable if a benevolent, omnipotent, omniscient being exists. It is important at this juncture to clarify what is being claimed in the EPE: that the existence of God is improbable given the amount (not the mere presence) of suffering in the world. God, if He existed, would not allow this much suffering. Or God, if He existed, would not plausibly have morally sufficient reasons for so doing. It can be formulated numerous ways, but it generally includes the view that if God did have morally sufficient reasons for allowing this amount of suffering, we would be privy to at least some of those reasons. But many of the reasons which we could admit as morally justifying simply do not seem to apply to most instances of suffering. This, according to the EPE, counts as prima facie evidence against the existence of God.

                So to formalize the argument, it is necessary to define one’s terms and sufficiently organize one’s line of reasoning.

1.       If God exists, gratuitous suffering does not exist.

2.       Gratuitous suffering does exist.

3.       Therefore God does not exist.

This is a logically valid modus tollens argument.

Gratuitous suffering is suffering for which there is no purpose, or end, and God is defined minimally as an omnipotent, omniscient, omni-benevolent being. Thus we can see that the EPE stands or falls on the basis of whether gratuitous evils exist.

                It will also be helpful to remember at this point that the EPE is an argument, in effect, against the existence of God. The proponent of it presumably wishes to show God’s existence to be improbable, and consequently it is the proponent of it who must bear the burden of proof. He must make a compelling case that the EPE actually is strong evidence against the existence of God. I mention this only because lay atheist apologists tend to proceed as though they have no burden of proof, ever, for anything they say. However convenient that may be for them, it will do little to advance their case against a theism which is well grounded, and is neither reactionary nor defensive. The atheist does bear the proof-burden here, and if she is not willing or able to bear it, then so much the worse for atheism.

                In abandoning strict logical disproof, the EPE seeks to make a probabilistic case against the existence of God by offering evidence. Necessarily, this evidence will be weighed against all the evidence for the existence of God, so it will not be helpful to think that the EPE all by itself renders God’s existence (hereafter G) improbable. The theist may be tempted to concede that a great deal of suffering appears to be gratuitous, but she may simply flip the EPE on its head in this way:

1.       If God exists, gratuitous suffering does not exist.

2.       God exists.

3.       Therefore gratuitous suffering does not exist.

Thus we have a valid modus ponens argument against the EPE. It should be sufficiently clear at this point that probabilistic arguments need to account for the totality of the evidence, and the theist might justifiably assert that we have strong enough evidence of G by way the the Kalām cosmological argument, the moral argument, et. al.… that theism is still totally justified and rational even in light of the EPE.

       But all that aside. Now to an examination of an actual exposition of the EPE offered by philosopher John Loftus in his book The Christian Delusion. Loftus admits that some theodicies have some force. For instance, the one I mentioned back in my post on the logical problem of evil, where I offered the example of a surgeon inflicting suffering in order to prevent further harm to the patient. Loftus interestingly sidesteps many of these theodicies by focusing on what he calls the “Darwinian problem of evil,” which is the mass of animal pain and death prior to the existence of human beings. He makes it very clear that what he is seeking from the theist is not merely what Alvin Plantinga calls a “defense” (which is a suggestion of what God’s morally sufficient reason might be for all we know); what he is seeking is a veritable theodicy. He wants to know what God’s reasons actually are. Absent a compelling theodicy for pre-human animal suffering, Loftus contends that the EPE is very strong (possibly incontrovertible) evidence against G. Loftus summarizes and then criticizes some leading theistic accounts of pre-human animal suffering, and in my next post I’ll take his summaries and criticisms point by point.

The Logical Problem of Evil: Part 2

In the last post, I gave a brief overview of the logical problem of evil, and explained one possible way of defeating it. There is another way, however. You’ll remember that the logical problem of evil is the alleged logical contradiction between these two propositions:

1.       An omnipotent, omniscient, omni-benevolent being exists.

2.       Evil exists.

In the last post I focused on the atheist contention that an omnipotent being has the power to actualize any logically possible state of affairs. Since a state of affairs in which free agents choose only good actions is logically possible, it follows (they suppose) that an omnipotent being could bring about such a state of affairs. I noted in response that omnipotence does not include the power to actualize logically impossible states of affairs; it is therefore not possible for God to coerce agents to perform actions freely. Therefore, if freedom of the will is even possible, it follows that evil actions undertaken by free creatures are not inconsistent with the existence of God.

                In this post, however, I’d like to focus on the LPE as it relates to benevolence. It is alleged that a benevolent being would desire states of affairs which do not include evil. It seems somewhat important here to explain what is meant by “evil,” and what is generally meant is suffering. Atheists who are concerned with the LPE tend to focus on certain evils over others. For instance, the rape of a little child, or Nazi crimes against humanity. A theist like myself would be happy to admit that child rape and genocide are evil, yet would be uncomfortable simply defining evil as that which causes pain or suffering to a conscious being. For the sake of argument we overlook this, and we understand that something very much like “suffering” is alleged to be contradictory to the desires of a benevolent being.

                But why think, apart from it seeming intuitively obvious, that a benevolent being desires states of affairs in which there is no suffering whatsoever? We humans allow the infliction of pain under many circumstances, such as life-preserving surgeries which require the removal of a limb, or of diseased tissue. The atheist might counter that in these circumstances, we have over-riding reasons for allowing (not to mention actively causing) suffering, and that what we are doing is not only not evil, it is morally good and even morally compulsory. So we do have clear counter-examples from our own experience where to do what is good might require the infliction of pain. The atheist might counter that in the offered example, there was a pre-existing evil (disease) which we are justified in eradicating by causing further suffering. The suffering we cause will stop the much greater suffering caused by doing nothing. Whereas it does not appear that God could have a justifying reason like this, since there were no prior evils to be eradicated.

                It is necessary at this point to remember some specific things about Christian theology and anthropology, however. For instance, God made mankind to be rightly related to Himself, and as Augustine poignantly says, “our heart is restless until it finds its rest in [God].” So then, for God to allow man to shun and reject Him is to allow him to inflict suffering upon himself. So, by our example of a surgeon, a benevolent being will seek to actualize good states of affairs, and a state of affairs in which humans are drawn back to God rather than rejecting Him and hating him is a good state of affairs.

                The argument from the definition of benevolence also seems to assume that a benevolent being would immediately eradicate all suffering; that is, that such a being desires to eradicate all suffering now rather than later. This assumption, for reasons mentioned above, seems dubious. It is clear that an agent could perform forward-looking actions with a view to actualizing some good future state of affairs, and that she may indeed be morally justified in so doing. So the proponent of the LPE would have to show that no future state of affairs could possibly serve as justification for the suffering experienced in the present. No such demonstration is forthcoming. For these and other reasons, it seems to me clear that a benevolent being would not necessarily desire states of affairs in which there is no suffering. But for a logical contradiction to exist here, this would have to be the case necessarily.

               Indeed, there are theists who argue that one can actually prove that statements (1) and (2) above are logically consistent with each other. All that is required is to suggest a third proposition which is consistent with (1) but entails (2). Such a statement might be: "God has morally sufficient reasons for allowing the evil and suffering that we observe." If this is even possibly true, then it demonstrates that propositions (1) and (2) are logically consistent. And it follows therefore that there is no logical problem of evil. 

                It is tempting to discard the problem of evil entirely as an utter failure, yet this might be premature, for there is another form it currently takes: the evidential (or probabilistic) version. In this version, the atheist/agnostic admits that there is no logical contradiction between God and evil, but that the sheer amount of apparently gratuitous evil makes it exceedingly unlikely that God exists. A whole host of factors come into play here which we could safely ignore while discussing the logical problem of evil, and these will take a bit of time to consider. So in the next post, I’ll consider some of them, and I’ll focus on what John Loftus calls the “Darwinian problem of evil,” which is the extensive animal pain and suffering to which the traditionally offered theodicies might not apply.