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Critically assess Plato’s analogy of the cave as an explanation of reality. [40]

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Plato developed his allegory of the cave in Book VII of “The Republic”.  The dialogue here is between Socrates, who seems to give voice to Plato’s own thoughts, and Glaucon, Plato’s older brother. Socrates sets the scene, describing a group of prisoners who have been held underground seeing only shadows for many years, before asking what would happen if one escaped and made his way outside.  The allegory represents Plato’s view of reality, whereby the world we experience through the senses is only one of appearances, whereas ultimate reality is metaphysical and beyond ordinary experience. Despite being influential for many centuries and still capturing creative imaginations today, the explanation of reality it conveys is antiquated, unduly complicated and communicated unclearly so overall, Plato’s allegory is a poor explanation of reality.

Firstly, through the allegory of the cave Plato suggests that ultimate reality is metaphysical.  The world outside the cave represents Plato’s “world of the forms” in which a hierarchy of universals exist eternally.  The escaped prisoner represents the philosopher, who escapes from the world of appearances through reason, gradually and painfully realising that things are not the way they first seem as they come to terms with the forms through the light of the sun, which represents reason.  While Plato’s explanation of reality is immediately attractive – Iris Murdoch rightly praised Plato’s “blazing imagery” – in practice his suggestion that universal forms have a separate existence in a higher world goes well beyond the evidence. Aristotle, Plato’s pupil, agreed that universal forms were needed to explain our experience of particulars in the world, but he stopped short of suggesting that “formal causes” could be separated from the “material causes” which instantiate them and make them real. This explanation of reality is more persuasive than that communicated by Plato’s allegory of the cave. Further, even Aristotle’s explanation of reality through the four causes has been improved upon through modern philosophy, which casts doubt on the existence of universal forms altogether.  Is there really a separate form of the chair, whether it is separable as Plato suggested or not separable as Aristotle suggested, or is the “form” only an idea or concept in somebody’s mind, subjectively rather than objectively real?  This shows that the explanation of reality communicated by Plato’s allegory of the cave is antiquated.

Secondly, Plato is vague and inconsistent in his explanation of the world of the forms.  as Julia Annas observes, Plato sees no need to argue for the existence of the forms, so that there is no properly worked out “theory of forms”.  He just alludes the forms in his dialogues as if their existence was beyond dispute, while giving contradictory accounts of what they are.  For example, in the Republic through the allegory of the cave and later in Book X Plato suggests that multiple forms exist with the form of the good (the sun in the allegory of the cave) as the top of a hierarchy of forms, but elsewhere he suggests that there might be only forms of ideals such as beauty and truth or even only one form, the form of the good. Even Plato was aware that the forms did not provide a clear solution to the problem of universals.  He failed to explain what exactly forms are made of and, as he admitted in the Parmenides, to limit the number of forms that would be needed to explain any particular thing.  As Aristotle later explained through his famous “third man” argument, to explain a great man a form of greatness and a form of man would be needed, but also a form of the form of greatness, a form of the form of the form of greatness and so on into infinity.  By Ockham’s Razor we can conclude that any explanation of reality makes reality infinitely more complicated than it appears is far from being useful.

On the other hand, Plato’s allegory of the cave gestures towards an explanation of reality that dominated European Philosophy through to the Early Modern Period. Descartes Meditations provides a persuasive argument for the rationalism and substance dualism that Plato’s allegories and analogies evoke, and scholarly support for these positions has persisted.  For example, GE Moore and Iris Murdoch advanced “Platonist” positions in the first half of the 20th Century and David Chalmers identifies as a substance dualist today. Nevertheless, while Plato’s basic ideas influenced these later philosophers, none has accepted the explanation of reality communicated by the allegory of the cave uncritically and all have had to do a great deal of work in arguing for their positions.  In addition, Plato’s allegory of the cave has been associated with a new theory that our “reality” is in fact an AR projection or hologram.  Cosmology has undermined the “standard model” of physics just as it did the Newtonian steady-state universe; the absence of a clear and appealing model to replace it has made it fashionable to speculate about the nature of ultimate reality again, casting doubt on the view that the universe really is what it appears to be through the empirical senses.  Nevertheless, this doesn’t make Plato’s allegory of the cave or the explanation of reality that it conveys more credible, it only demonstrates that the human inclination to speculate as Plato did persists despite scientific and technological advances. Further, Plato’s use of allegories like the cave, as well as analogies like the sun and the divided line to communicate his ideas shows how his approach was more literary and creative than a serious attempt to explain reality. The fact that the allegory of the cave with its theme of voyage and return has become one of the seven basic plots, influencing religion as well as books and films from Narnia to the Matrix, only supports this. Plato’s allegory grips the imagination and changes our perception of reality rather than describing it.  So therefore, Plato’s allegory of the cave is a poor explanation of reality. 

In conclusion, despite being influential for many centuries and still capturing creative imaginations today, the explanation of reality conveyed by Plato’s allegory of the cave is antiquated, unduly complicated and communicated unclearly.

Aquinas successfully demonstrates that religious language should be understood in terms of analogy. Discuss. [40]

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As the Summa Theologica makes clear, St Thomas Aquinas’ approach to religious language emerged from his concept of God.  As a Classical Theist, Aquinas saw God as timeless eternal, meaning that words applied to God cannot be understood univocally, to mean the same as they would when applied to created things. While the Bible, the Creeds and Christian doctrines use language univocally in ways that make God seem like a person, subject to limitation and change, for Aquinas God is timelessly other and should not be so anthropomorphised and limited by language.  He saw some merits in the apophatic approach to language, which speaks of God by negation if at all seeing direct religious language as equivocal, but wanted to preserve the possibility of affirming some things about God in a meaningful way, recognising that an equivocal approach to language undermines philosophy and doctrine in a way that must eventually be fatal to organised religion.  The result was Aquinas’ argument that words applied to God should be understood as analogies which is successful in avoiding both the pitfalls of univocalism and giving in to equivocalism, although it depends heavily on his concept of God and so may not be useful to all Christians.

Firstly, Aquinas claimed that claims such as “God is good” should not be taken to imply that God is morally good, such as would imply choice and the existence of independent values but should instead be understood as analogies of proportion. When we say that something is good, we mean that it largely fulfils its nature.  Human nature is to be free and moral, but if God is the origin of our freedom and of moral values it makes little sense to anthropomorphise him by assuming his nature is like ours.  Nothing in this world is perfect; because of time and space nothing can fulfil 100% of its nature.  For example, a person has the potential to be a baby and an adult.  However good they are, they can only fulfil part of their potential at one time, such as by being a good adult.  Nevertheless, God is outside the time and space that holds us back from actualising our full potential and being perfect. When we say that God is good, we mean that God fulfils 100% of his timeless divine nature, being changelessly perfect; what it is for God to fulfil God’s nature is not what it means for us to fulfil our more limited nature.  John Hick used the example of a man and his dog, both of which might be said to be faithful. What it is for a man to be faithful and for a dog to be faithful are not quite the same, but by saying they are faithful we mean that both do a large proportion of what we expect of a faithful member of their species. It follows that our goodness is not the same as God’s goodness… the word good is not used univocally when applied to God… but there is a connection between our goodness and God’s goodness which means that words applied to God are not equivocal either.   In this way, Aquinas’ analogy of proportion is successful in avoiding both the pitfalls of univocalism and giving into equivocalism.

Secondly, Aquinas claimed that attributes like goodness exist primarily in God as the creator and only secondarily in created things, so that what we say about God and created things is connected while still having different meanings and preserving the otherness of God. To explain his analogy of attribution, Aquinas used the example of a bull and its urine… the health of the bull is primary and the health of the urine it produces is secondary… the health of the bull and its urine consist in different things, but the health of the one is the source of the health of the other, so there is a connection.  Simon Oliver uses the example of me and my breakfast yoghurt… both might be said to be healthy, but the healthiness of the yoghurt is secondary and depends on my healthiness, which is primary.  My health might consist in having clear skin, energy and a habit of going jogging… but the health of the yoghurt does not consist in any of these things.  In the same way, the goodness, power or wisdom of God is primary, and the goodness, power or wisdom of created things is secondary.  What it is for God to be good, powerful or wise might be radically different from what it means for a person to be these things, and not only by degree, avoiding limiting God through a univocal use of language.  Yet, there is a clear connection between the goodness, power and wisdom of God and of created creatures, which avoids an equivocal approach to religious language also. 

On the other hand, as Anthony Kenny pointed out the analogical meaning of God’s attributes preserved by Aquinas is extremely limited, making this approach to religious language unsuccessful when it comes to sustaining religion in a practical way.  Kenny suggested that the idea of timeless attributes such as goodness, power or wisdom seems “radically incoherent”, which is a fair criticism, as is the related point that many believers do not understand language analogically, even those who lead or have led the Church.  While Ian Ramsey was right to point out how people often use “qualifiers” like “timelessly” to signify that their use of words to describe God should not be taken as “ordinary language” but as religious language which is “logically odd”, in practice many people do not use such qualifiers or seem to understand that there should be any difficulty in using language univocally at all. Further, as Nelson Pike observed, the God of the Bible is “unavoidably tensed”.  It makes little sense to see God as timeless when that would make the creation, the fall and the resurrection simultaneous in God’s timeless vision. This is why Protestant philosophers look for other ways of understanding religious language, seeing Aquinas analogical approach as bound up in a concept of God which is fundamentally unchristian. John MacQuarrie lamented the adoption of the Greek concept of God into the Christian tradition, seeing this as the cause of multiple avoidable philosophical problems that have beset the faith through the best part of two millennia.  In this context, Richard Swinburne and Nicholas Wolterstorff approach religious language in a more straightforward univocal way.  Further, some Classical Theists support a more univocal approach to religious language than Aquinas.  For examples, St Anselm and John Duns Scotus reasoned that God as creator must have created the concepts through which we understand and speak of Him, meaning that we can speak confidently about God using a far wider range of words and meanings than Aquinas would allow.  All of this suggests that the success of Aquinas’ analogical approach to religious language is limited to those who share his concept of God and does not extend even to all of those.

In conclusion, Aquinas’ analogical approach to understanding religious language is coherent and persuasive if one shares his concept of God, although it is possibly too limited to support religious practice.  Nevertheless, many Christians do not accept either Aquinas’ concept of God or his analogical approach to understanding religious language because they choose to focus on revealed rather than on natural theology as the primary source of their knowledge of God.

Examples of mystical experiences should be considered valid religious experiences. Discuss [40]

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In his “Varieties of Religious Experience” William James argued that examples of mystical experiences which have the four marks of being passive, transient, ineffable and noetic justify their recipient’s belief in God and deserve to be taken seriously by others, as potentially valid religious experiences. Yet, atheists like Richard Dawkins remain unconvinced, arguing that “exceptional claims demand exceptional evidence” and dismissing all “mystical experiences” as fakes or mistakes. Overall, Dawkins’ argument arises from prejudice and an unscientifically closed mind, so James’ argument is more persuasive.

Firstly, Dawkins rejects the claim of any “mystical experience” to be considered a valid religious experience.  Like David Hume in his analysis “Of Miracles”, Dawkins reasons that it is always more probable that the experience was the result of psychological and/or physiological processes than that the experience was of God.  Dawkins’ argument has intuitive appeal and has been supported by other atheists, including Susan Blackmore, Christopher Hitchens and Sam Harris, yet it does not stand up to closer scrutiny. Yes, scientists can “explain away” individual experiences… saying that St Augustine undergoing a moral crisis and St Bernadette an attention-seeker… but each explanation is different, while what the mystics claim to have experienced is one and the same. Is it more likely that so many different people in different circumstances are all deluded from multiple different improbable causes, or that what so many people have reported to have experienced in diverse ways is real?  As James concluded, “higher” mystical experiences “offer us HYPOTHESES, hypotheses which we may voluntarily ignore, but which as thinkers we cannot possibly upset.[1]” It is fair to say that Dawkins chooses to ignore examples of mystical experiences which, if taken seriously and properly investigated, might yield a better insight into reality than the narrow scientific materialism that Dawkins seems wedded to.  In “The Existence of God” Richard Swinburne has shown how it is slightly more probable that God exists than not and that – given that prior probability and the principles of credulity and testimony – the existence of so many religious experiences (though defined more broadly than according to James’ four marks) tips the balance decisively in favour of God’s existence. Dawkins’ argument that mystical experiences are always more probably fakes or mistakes than valid has thus been falsified.

Secondly, scientists like Dawkins have sought to provide alternative explanations for mystical experiences to show that they are not valid religious experiences.  Yet, as James pointed out, such explanations cannot account for the positive and lasting change that such experiences bring about in their recipients’ lives. For example, it may be that St Paul’s experiences were the result of epileptic seizures, but this medical explanation can’t account for the spiritual effect of the experiences on Paul and through him, on the world. Many people have had epileptic seizures, but only one wrote most of the New Testament. Further, despite his scepticism about their causes, Dawkins is fascinated by spiritual experiences and volunteered to be a research subject, wearing Michael Persinger’s “God helmet” to discover what so many religious people have felt.  Afterwards, he said that he was “very disappointed” by the experience, finding that the brain stimulation did not in fact create the sensation that mystics report.  This suggests that one of the most common scientific means of “explaining away” mystical experiences is not credible. In addition, assuming that some experiences are valid, God must appear to people in some way; if not through visions or voices, then through some ineffable, transient sensation as reported by mystics.  Yet, whatever sensation God chooses is bound to be affected by disorders, so that if a person has an ineffable sensation, it is likely to be diagnosed in terms of an associated disorder.  Also, even if scientists can identify how somebody might have an unusual sensation, this does not account for why they had the sensation… God could be working through physiological processes.  All of this shows that Dawkins is wrong and that examples of mystical experiences should be considered as potentially valid religious experiences.

On the other hand, claimed “mystical experiences” are very diverse and vary in credibility. It is difficult to define mystical experiences so that only those that are credible are included when claiming that they should be considered valid religious experiences. For example, James argued that “higher” mystical experiences, such as should be considered as valid religious experiences, have the four marks of being passive, transient, ineffable and noetic. Yet, it is not clear that even the examples James appeals to have all four marks.  James uses St Teresa of Avila’s descriptions of mystical experiences to develop his argument, yet were these experiences really either passive or transient… and given the number of words she used to describe them, were they ineffable either?  Further, other scholars have defined mystical experiences differently, either more narrowly as in the definitions of Otto and Stace, or more broadly, as in the definitions of Swinburne and the Alister Hardy Centre.  The lack of a single, clear definition for mystical experiences and the inclusion of less credible experiences within some of these definitions surely undermines the case for considering them valid religious experiences.  Nevertheless, perhaps the lack of a clear definition is to be expected if mystical experiences are valid religious experiences. As James points out, language is inadequate when it comes to describing God so that scholars have sometimes resorted to the apophatic way or analogy and the use of qualifiers. Why would we expect people to be able to describe mystical experiences of God any more clearly? 

In conclusion, examples of mystical experiences should be considered as potentially valid religious experiences.  While some claimed mystical experiences lack credibility and are probably not valid religious experiences, others deserve serious consideration and scientific investigation that does not begin from a fixed starting point of naïve materialism.

[1] https://csrs.nd.edu/assets/59930/williams_1902.pdf page 325

Marx does not offer a satisfactory solution to the problem of the exploitation of the poor. Discuss. [40]

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Karl Marx’ proposed solution to the problem of the poor proletariat being exploited by the bourgeoisie within a Capitalist economic system is to abolish that system – as well as the superstructure that perpetuates it including religion – through a violent revolution.  By contrast, Liberation Theology has proposed that the first and second act of praxis offer a better solution, which obvious avoids the pitfalls of violent revolution while still achieving change, and mainstream Christian teaching has proposed that charitable work, combined with spiritual formation and prayer, is the best solution because it combines efforts to improve conditions for the poor with spiritual preparation for the afterlife, in which the only lasting equality can be attained. In theory, Marx offers a satisfactory solution, however in practice and largely because of political opposition to Marxism from the entrenched vested interests of the bourgeoisie, mainstream Christian teaching provides the most satisfactory solution.

Marx’s solution of revolution is theoretically at least the most satisfactory solution to the problem of the exploitation of the poor.  Only by dispelling the false class consciousness that capitalism depends on, through education and the weakening of religious influence, will the proletariat recognise their own exploitation and become resolved to stop it.  As Marx observed, capitalism is inherently unstable because it consists of a vast and growing majority of people being oppressed and cheated by a small and shrinking minority.  Capitalism cannot continue without the acquiescence of the poor, which the bourgeoisie achieve by keeping the poor divided and in ignorance.  Marx was right that religious teaching serves to keep the poor acquiescent, encouraging them to believe that those in power rule with God’s authority, that resistance is sinful and will be punished eternally after death and that they should focus on being peaceful and compliant.  As such religion forms part of the superstructure or what Althusser later called the “Ideological State Apparatus”, which creates and perpetuates the false class consciousness that capitalism needs the poor to believe in order to permit their own exploitation.  Abolishing the superstructure, including religion, is both the precondition for and aim of the revolution, which will liberate the poor from oppression.  Examples of countries which have gone through a Marxist revolution include Russia and more recently Cuba… in both cases capitalism and religion were overthrown and inequality between rich and poor was reduced.  Of course, neither example is wholly positive.  The Russian revolution quickly descended into Stalinism and the Cuban revolution led to decades of poverty for all Cubans, but arguably this was due to political opposition from entrenched capitalist interests overseas.  For example, the Cuban revolution struggled with poverty because the USA enforced trade embargoes in order to destabilise the Marxist government.  This shows that while in theory Marxism offers the most satisfactory solution to the problem of the exploitation of the poor, in practice Marxist revolutions struggle because they encounter powerful opposition which increases and prolongs bloodshed and creates greater poverty across society. 

It follows that mainstream Christian teaching offers a more satisfactory solution to the problem of the exploitation of the poor in practice.  The Church has been committed to giving the poor a “preferential option” since the late 1960s, recognising the need to address the growing inequality and exploitation caused by free market capitalism in practical as well as spiritual ways.  Gaudiem et Spes (1965), the last document emerging from the Second Vatican Council, clearly identifies the exploitation of the poor as a major problem inherent in capitalist societies and recognises the impatience of Christians to change this.  Pope Paul VI’s Populorum Progressio (1967) cries out against the “less than human conditions” endured by the poor, recognising that efficiency should not come at the expense of workers’ humanity and reminding Christians that “the earth belongs to everyone, not just the rich.”  Following on from these teachings, through the Puebla Document (1979) CELAM called for every Catholic to give the poor a “preferential option,” using a phrase coined by Fr Pedro Arrupe in 1968.   Nevertheless, by a “preferential option” the Vatican and CELAM meant that Christians should “be the evangeliser of the poor and one with them, a witness to the value of the riches of the Kingdom and the humble servant of all our people. [Puebla Document]” This suggests that while Christians should stand in solidarity with the poor and serve the poor, as Jesus did, their focus should be spiritual in spreading the Gospel and helping those who are exploited to recognise that there is hope in God’s Kingdom.  In practice, in the absence of a practical prospect of achieving liberation for the poor through a Marxist revolution, focusing on improving their immediate conditions through sustainable development projects and helping them retain hope and avoid alienation must be the most satisfactory solution. 

On the other hand, Marx and many other secularists have argued that Christianity’s focus on the Kingdom of God and on heavenly justice encourages the poor to put up with the status quo, however unjust it might be, and so serves the interests of capitalism.  Inspired by Gaudiem et Spes, Populorum Progressio and the Medillin Document of CELAM, Liberation Theologians went further than the mainstream Church, interpreting the “preferential option for the poor” in more political terms and advocating structural change.  In his “A Theology of Liberation” (1971) Gustavo Gutierrez prioritised orthopraxy over orthodoxy and described how Christians should live with the poor, not only stand in solidarity with them (first act praxis), and from that perspective re-read scripture with a “hermeneutic of suspicion”, being awake to the possibility that traditional interpretations of it have encouraged the poor to acquiesce in their exploitation (second act praxis).  From the perspective of the poor, Jesus seems like a political liberator, determined to establish the Kingdom of God on Earth through a revolution of some sort.  While Gutierrez focused on a social revolution, Leonardo Boff recognised the need for more decisive action to overthrow unjust regimes.  He recognised the good achieved by socialist revolutions and that this had been achieved without help from religion, noting that Jesus recognised and promised reward to those who had served God by showing love to their neighbours without realising it.  Of course, this led to Liberation Theology being condemned by the Vatican in 1984 and 1986. In the context of priests being targeted by both right wing and left wing military factions across South America because the line between religion and politics had been blurred, the Papacy criticised those, like Boff, who engaged with Marxism too much and too uncritically.  This is why it is mainstream Christianity and not Liberation Theology which offers the more satisfactory solution to the problem of the exploitation of the poor.  While Liberation Theology tries to combine Marxism and Christian Teaching, this only serves to undermine the ability of Christianity to address the effects of exploitation while doing nothing to make a lasting Marxist revolution more realistic and failing to recognise the threat that Marxism itself presents to religion in all forms.  While Liberation Theology might seem to offer a more holistic solution to the problems of the poor than Marxism does, recognising the need to address the spiritual poverty caused by exploitation and alienation in a way that classical Marxism does not, in practice it struggles to deliver any solution because it attracts hostility from secular and religious authorities alike in short order, compounding the problems of the poor rather than solving them.

In conclusion, mainstream Christian teaching offers the most practical solution to the problem of the exploitation of the poor.  It encourages all Christians to advocate for reforms to the Capitalist system and to give time and money towards sustainable development projects, while also giving hope to the oppressed poor, albeit hope mainly focused on the next world rather than this one.   Mainstream Christian teaching recognises the wisdom of Jesus’ words “those who live by the sword will die by the sword.” The fate of so many Marxists and Marxist sympathising Liberation Theologians only serves to demonstrate this, along with the deaths of mainstream Christians such as Oscar Romero who died because Liberation Theology had blurred the line between religion and politics. In focusing on peaceful solutions, mainly in an afterlife, and by disavowing Liberation Theology and other political allegiances, Christianity is able to offer a more satisfactory solution to the poor in practice than more ambitious but unrealistic alternatives. 

‘Critically discuss the theodicy presented by John Hick” [40]

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John Hick presented his “Theodicy for Today” through “Evil and the God of Love” (1966).  Here, Hick explored the history of the so-called Irenaean Theodicy in the work of Origen and Schleiermacher as well as Irenaeus, then crafting a new version of this theodicy which he felt more suited as a response to the logical problem of evil and suffering than the traditional Augustinian Theodicy given the atrocities of the mid 20th Century.  While Hick’s theodicy is persuasive, it does not provide a complete defence of God’s omnipotence and omnibenevolence. 

Firstly, Hick adapted Origen’s idea that human beings were created in God’s image but with the potential to grow into His likeness through a life that is a “schoolroom for the soul”.  While he rejected the “exegetically dubious” distinction between image and likeness in the Hebrew – as this is more probably designed for emphasis in the original poetry than intended to make two separate points – he argued that there is truth in the claim that human beings exist on two levels, as BIOS – sophisticated animals – and as ZOE – morally and spiritually unique beings.  Hick took Keats’ phrase to argue that our lives are a “vale of soul-making”, through suffering we grow and develop from BIOS towards ZOE, meaning that suffering (and Hick includes others’ suffering as well as our own) has a purpose and is spiritually good for us, so plausibly part of the Best Possible World that an Omnipotent, Omnibenevolent God would have created.  Later, Richard Swinburne agreed with Hick, presenting his own Irenaean Theodicy which also contended that we learn from suffering, becoming better people and more able to use the freedom that God has given us.  Swinburne likened God to a parent, allowing his children to suffer in order that they might learn to make decisions independently.  This aspect of Hick’s Irenaean Theodicy seems persuasive, because there is no doubt that people do become stronger and more spiritual as a result of the suffering which is an inescapable part of life, however Hick fails to account for the extent of suffering, which most people would agree is gratuitous.  For example, William Rowe identified suffering which could and should have been eliminated by an omnipotent and omnibenevolent God, suggesting that innocent child suffering (such as in Rowe’s example of Sue) disproves the existence of such a God.  Ivan Karamazov would surely have agreed that the degree to which young children suffer is far beyond anything that could be proportionate to the ends of helping us develop spiritually.  While Hick appealed to the “epistemic distance” between God and human beings and while Swinburne agreed that we are in no position to know that God could have prevented such suffering without causing or permitting something worse, retreating into mystery at the first sign of difficulty is not an adequate philosophical response.  Because of this, Hick’s theodicy fails to defend God’s omnipotence and omnibenevolence in the light of his allowing gratuitous, innocent, child suffering.

Secondly, Hick reasoned that God might be justified in allowing some people to suffer more than others – even if some people were broken and afflicted and so unable to develop spiritually as a result – if he provided eternal recompense for unjust suffering after death.  For example, God could be both omnipotent and omnibenevolent, even if some children die embittered and afflicted after suffering years of bone cancer if God made up for it in heaven.  Nevertheless, this is unconvincing because there is no adequate theory of what heaven could be like in order to justify God in this way.  In “Death and the Afterlife” 1978 Hick recognised the problems with standard Christian doctrine in that it relies on future physical resurrection, which is neither scientifically plausible nor fair to those whose bodies are either extremely young, extremely old or dispersed/destroyed.  Instead, Hick chose to focus on St Paul’s teaching, which suggests that resurrection is spiritual before the soul is re-clothed in a spiritual body, which is then rewarded or punished appropriately.  St Paul wrote that “The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable… it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body.” 1 Corinthians 15:42, 44 Nevertheless, as Hick later realised, this account of life after death is problematic because it relies on the soul being separable from the body, albeit temporarily, when there is almost no evidence supporting substance dualism.  It also relies on all our human identity residing in an immaterial “soul”, so that “I” could be re-created into a new body and what happened to that body would still serve as just reward and punishment, incentive and disincentive.  Hick developed his famous Replica Theory to defend the possibility that a person could still be a person despite a break in the spatio-temporal-continuity that philosophers like Derek Parfit rely on to determine identity. Yet so much of human identity relates to our body that even if we accept that a replica could still be me (and ignore the possibilities of multiple replicas etc) this is difficult to accept.  Would our spiritual body be male or female, heterosexual or homosexual, old or young, Black or Asian?  If no, then how can a reward applied to some idealised and unrecognisable form really recompense for my unjust suffering… but if yes, then the spiritual body theory has few advantages over physical resurrection theory because inequalities and injustices would persist after death and heaven would not be an eternal or perfect reward but rather an endurance test which would do little but prolong the memories of suffering in this life in another location.  In the end, Hick abandoned replica theory and belief in spiritual bodies and came to believe in a form of reincarnation, showing that he didn’t believe that this aspect of his own theodicy was convincing.  It follows that because Hick’s theodicy fails to explain how an omnipotent, omnibenevolent God could make up for unjust suffering after death, it fails to provide a complete defence against the logical problem of evil.

On the other hand, Hick’s theodicy is more persuasive than the classical Augustinian Theodicy.  It does not rely on a literal interpretation of Genesis 2-3, avoids focusing on Original Sin and allows for evil to be real and not only “privation boni”, all of which make Hick’s approach more palatable in the 20th Century.  Further, Hick draws on modern science in his account of how we develop from BIOS into ZOE and in his beliefs about life after death and the impossibility of standard physical resurrection, which makes his theodicy more acceptable to a broader audience than standard Christian doctrine.  Nevertheless, a big weakness of Hick’s approach is that it fails to account for the suffering of animals.  As Rowe pointed out, the suffering of animals like the fawn he used in his example is endemic in nature.  The whole evolutionary process, which Hick accepts as characterising creation, depends upon the intense and gratuitous suffering of life-forms who have no possibility of growing or developing spiritually as a result, or of experiencing a heavenly recompense.  Hick seems to ignore and then sidestepped this question completely.  While Swinburne confronted the issue of animal suffering and included it in his version of the Irenaean Theodicy, he did no more than to speculate that animals might suffer less intensely and/or learn something from suffering, showing the inadequacy of this type of theodicy with respect to animal suffering.  Another weakness of Hick’s approach is that it defends a very limited version of omnipotence in God if he had to use suffering – and such intense suffering – as the means for human beings to grow from BIOS into ZOE.  As JL Mackie had already pointed out in “Evil and Omnipotence” (1955) theodicies which suggest that we learn from suffering assume that God could not have designed a better and more efficient way for humans to learn or created human beings with no need to learn in the first place. A God with such limitations would not reasonably be described as omnipotent.  While Hick is far from being alone in limiting God’s omnipotence to being able to do what is logically possible, Mackie’s objection to his theodicy is reasonable. 

In conclusion, Hick’s theodicy is more persuasive than many older theodicies, but does not provide such a complete defence of God’s omnipotence and omnibenevolence as even St Augustine did.  Hick’s God may be benevolent, but He is extremely limited in power.  Further, while Hick’s theodicy gains strength from avoiding Biblical literalism, in moving away from the Bible and Christian doctrine in some respects, it is also weakened by not being acceptable to the mainstream Church.  Also, Hick fails to explain the extent and unfair distribution of suffering or provide an account of the afterlife that would serve as “eschatological justification”, making up for unfairness in this life, both of which leave this theodicy open to criticism. 

Gaunilo successfully defeats Anselm’s Ontological Argument. Discuss. [40]

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St Anselm presented his ontological argument in Proslogion books 2 and 3.  He began with a quotation from Psalm 14:1 “the fool says in his heart there is no God”, reasoning that existence is part of the definition of God, so that anybody who denies God’s existence is asserting a contradiction and so a fool.  Gaunilo, a contemporary of St Anselm, responded in his wittily titled “on behalf of the fool”, rejecting Anselm’s reasoning systematically and concluding that atheists are not necessarily fools.  Although St Anselm and Gaunilo were operating within different worldviews and with difference concepts of what existence entails, on balance and because Gaunilo’s more modern worldview dominates today, Gaunilo successfully defeats St Anselm’s ontological argument. 

Firstly, Gaunilo is successful in pointing out that the atheist can recognise the word “God” without necessarily holding the entire concept of God in intellectu. He wrote “this being is said to be in my understanding already, only because I understand what is said.”  Whereas St Anselm asserts that the atheist, in recognising the word God understands that God is “that than which nothing greater can be conceived of” and – because existence is a perfection – necessarily exists in re while simultaneously denying God’s existence, Gaunilo suggests that people often recognise a word without fully understanding what it refers to, as may be the case with God. Gaunilo later elaborates, explaining that as Anselm admits that God is unlike any other thing, it must be impossible for any person to understand what “God” is, because our understanding of new objects is usually built out of like objects. This is persuasive, as Aquinas would later agree [Summa Theologica 1,2,1] because God’s nature is to be mysterious and ineffable, so resisting all attempts to define him, let alone analyse that definition to determine whether necessary existence is part of it. Gaunilo continues by writing “I have in my understanding all manner of unreal objects, having absolutely no existence in themselves” – examples of such could be Gruffalos or unicorns – and he suggests that it would be possible to hold an idea of God who doesn’t exist in intellectu.  This also is persuasive because, as Kant later wrote, “Whatever, therefore, our concept of an object may contain, we must always step outside it, in order to attribute to it existence…”  Existential statements must be synthetic and capable of verification through the senses; it is not possible to analyse something, even God, into existence.  While it is clear that Gaunilo (and later Kant) assume existence to refer to existence in the phenomenal world of time and space rather than to a non-contradictory concept or “clear and distinct idea” as Anselm (and later Descartes) did, it is Gaunilo’s worldview which dominates today and this supports the success of Gaunilo’s argument in defeating Anselm’s ontological argument.

Secondly, Gaunilo is successful in pointing out that the idea of God in intellectu exists prior to the existence of God in re being realised.  He used St Anselm’s (and St Augustine’s) example of a painter and painting to make this point, reasoning that the idea of the painting exists in the mind of the painter before paint is applied to canvas. He wrote “The picture, before it is made, is contained in the artificer’s art itself; and any such thing, existing in the art of an artificer, is nothing but a part of his understanding itself.”  In the same way, for Gaunilo the idea of God exists in the mind primarily and before the reality of God is admitted.  This suggests that the atheist could have the idea of God in their mind separately from the necessary reality of God, leaving the possibility that God could only be the idea of a necessarily existing being and not a necessarily existing being.  This links to Aristotle’s concept of the formal cause; the sculptor may have the form of the sculpture in his mind, but until he acts as an efficient cause on the material cause of the stone, the sculpture can’t be said to be real.  Similarly, the soul as the formal cause of the body can’t be understood to exist independently of a body, in the way that a wax seal can’t exist without wax.  Of course, Plato would disagree, arguing that forms are more real than material objects which reflect them, because they are complete and unchanging. However, Anselm’s platonic worldview has been replaced by the more Aristotelian worldview of Gaunilo today.  Few would accept that ideas are more real than material objects, so that most would agree with Kant when he wrote “If then, I try to conceive a being, as the highest reality (without any defect), the question still remains, whether it exists or not. For though in my concept there may be wanting nothing of the possible real content of a thing in general, something is wanting in its relation to my whole state of thinking, namely, that the knowledge of that object should be possible a posteriori also…” The painting is only an idea until paint meets canvas in the real world… and however perfect it may be in concept won’t change that fact. Therefore, Gaunilo is successful in defeating Anselm’s ontological argument, because he identifies Anselm’s failure to establish God’s existence a posteriori as well as a priori. 

Of course, Anselm rejected Gaunilo’s criticisms one by one in his “Responsio” reasoning that Gaunilo must be a fool if he believed that somebody could recognise the word God without appreciating that it refers to a supremely perfect being which – logically – must have the property of necessary existence.  A person saying that a triangle has four sides could only be an idiot; Anselm cannot accept that an atheist is anything other than a fool.  Further, Anselm rejected Gaunilo’s (mis)use of his analogy of the painter and painting, pointing out that while the idea of any normal object may well exist separately from and prior to its reality, this cannot apply to God who exists necessarily.  In God’s case and God’s case only, the idea and the reality must be simultaneous and identical.  However, Gaunilo’s reduction of St Anselm’s ontological argument to absurdity through the perfect island remains more persuasive than St Anselm’s indignant ripostes in the Responsio.  This is because Gaunilo appeals to common sense when he wrote that “If a man should try to prove to me by such reasoning that this island truly exists, and that its existence should no longer be doubted, either I should believe that he was jesting, or I know not which I ought to regard as the greater fool: myself, supposing that I should allow this proof; or him, if he should suppose that he had established with any certainty the existence of this island.”  In the same way Kant is persuasive when he appeals to common sense, writing “a man might as well imagine that he could become richer in knowledge by mere ideas, as a merchant in capital, if, in order to improve his position, he were to add a few noughts to his cash account.”  We all know that we can’t analyse or think anything into existence, whether holiday islands or money! 

In conclusion, Gaunilo’s criticisms of St Anselm’s ontological argument successfully defeat this attempt to prove God’s existence from reason alone… that is, for those who share Gaunilo’s modern worldview.  Of course, those with a Platonist worldview – like Anselm himself and Rene Descartes – would disagree.  As Norman Malcolm wrote “in those complex systems of thought, those ‘language games’, God has the status of a necessary being. Who can doubt that?” and yet claiming that God exist surely refers to more than a rule of one language-game?  As Gaunilo rightly pointed out, rooting our concept of what exists in mere ideas is more likely to be foolish than rooting existence in shared experience. 

Kantian Ethics is too abstract to be used in practical moral decision making. Discuss [40]

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Immanuel Kant proposed his system of ethics in “The Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals” (1785) and subsequently refined his thinking in “The Critique of Practical Reason” (1788) and “The Metaphysics of Morals” (1791).  For Kant, reason demands that we follow the Categorical Imperative whenever we are faced by a moral situation, involving human wellbeing.  He explained what the Categorical Imperative using six different forms of words in the Groundwork, variations of three principles; universalisation, ends and means and kingdom of ends. He was clear that these principles are not laws, to be followed unquestioningly, but rather descriptions of how a rational person (good will) will choose to act, freely, in a moral situation.  Further, that the different formulations were not intended to be applied separately, as they all describe the single moral demand of reason.  While Kantian Ethics does begin with an abstract principle, the Categorical Imperative, it is intensely practical and is in fact the best guide to moral decision making in the real world. 

Firstly, the Categorical Imperative does not seek to be a rule to follow unquestioningly.  Despite the common charge that Kantian Ethics is “harsh and inflexible” as Allen Wood put it, in reality Kant demands that we act autonomously, applying the demands of reason to each specific moral challenge.  In this way, Kantian Ethics – although it expresses the abstract demands of reason – is also intensely practical.  It recognises the complexity of moral situations and supports individuals to make their own decisions, rather than attempting to simplify things to a set of secondary precepts or rules as Roman Catholic Natural Law or Rule Utilitarianism do.  Natural Law produces sweeping rules that often seem to clash, and offers little practical help in resolving these dilemmas, resulting in a diversity of interpretations ranging from Grisez to Hoose.  On the other hand, Kantian Ethics is more practical in explicitly prioritising negative duties over positive duties, helping people to navigate a way through the clashing duties that dominate practical moral decision making.  Rule Utilitarianism ranges between harsh inflexible versions that try to reduce the complexity of moral decision making to a few absolute edicts and impractical versions that generate huge numbers of highly specific rules which still struggle to support practical decision making. On the other hand, Kantian Ethics is more practical, avoiding rules altogether and simply supporting people to be fully human, making decisions rationally and freely on the basis of the specific situation.  Kantian Ethics also recognises the existence of moral absolutes and handles these much better than Situation Ethics, which (at least in Fletcher’s formulation) implies that even dropping a nuclear bomb, murder or rape might be justified in some situations in a way that most people feel deeply uncomfortable about.  It also avoids the problem of prediction, which blights situation ethics and act utilitarianism, and does not demand that people predict and weigh up consequences with insufficient information to do this accurately. Of course, the support Kantian Ethics offers to individuals facing dilemmas can’t make their decisions easy.  Being reminded by conscience – which Kant defined as “practical reason holding the human being’s duty [i.e. the Categorical Imperative] before him” – that my action in helping my dying grandmother to die quickly rather than suffering on for days enacts the same maxim as a murderer is deeply uncomfortable.  Yet this reminder is an important one.  It is impractical to pretend – as Fletcher’s Situation Ethics seems to do – that the situation justifies one in taking a life, when this denies inevitable feelings of guilt and possible implications for how we relate to human life after we have crossed the line of taking it.  Kantian Ethics cannot make practical decisions easy, but it clarifies those decisions in a way that is practical and helpful if not pleasant to experience.  It follows that – despite being abstract – Kantian Ethics is the best approach to real-life moral decision making.

Secondly, Kantian Ethics is practical because it is rooted in human experience. Kant argued that when faced with another human being, reason demands that we treat them as we would wish to be treated.  While reason is abstract, the feeling of empathy and agape-love that it supports is not and is part of human experience every day.  In the “Critique of Practical Reason” he called the formulation of the Categorical Imperative “always treat humanity, whether in the person of yourself or another, always as an end and never as a means to an end” the “Practical Imperative” because it is what we instinctively do in any case.  Kant presupposed that we all have a conscience, which he defined as “practical reason holding the human being’s duty before him for his acquittal or condemnation in every case that comes under the law.” As he pointed out, human beings are “pathologically loving”; it is human nature to treat others as we would wish to be treated and so not to use people as a means to an end.  Of course, Bernard Williams accused Kantian Ethics of being “atomistic” and encouraging people to focus on their own moral characters, ignoring the demand to help others in a positive way if it would mean breaking a negative duty.  For example, Kantian Ethics encourages people not to pull the lever in the Trolley Problem, which feels selfish.  Yet the fat-man version of the same problem shows that Kant was right and that what we might feel comfortable with in theory we shrink from doing in practice.  For another example, as Onora O’Neill has shown, Kantian Ethics prioritises our duty to those we have promised to protect (i.e. the duty not to lie or break a promise) over our duty to help famine-stricken countries overseas (i.e. the duty to save life).  Nevertheless, Kantian Ethics does this because a decision to break a negative duty, whether killing a person as a means to an end in the trolley problem or breaking a promise to the electorate, doesn’t just affect that person or that situation, but sets an example which erodes the principles of the sanctity of human life or trust in government, making it more difficult for all other people to hear and follow the demand of reason and the Categorical Imperative in the future.  Kant’s principle of the Kingdom of Ends shows that it is irrational to act inconsistently, because we each set an example to everybody else, so any inconsistency prevents society developing towards the summum bonum. He appeals to reason which shows the consequences of prioritising consequences to be much worse consequentially, then the consequences of making a few tough decisions in order to uphold a principle.  Even Utilitarians John Stuart Mill and Henry Sidgwick and Peter Singer recognise this, suggesting that rules such as “do not murder” should be enforced more or less strictly for the sake of “the greatest happiness for the greatest number”.  Mill even campaigned to keep the death penalty for murder, against his fellow Utilitarian Bentham’s followers, partly because he believed in the importance of vindicating the law protecting the sanctity of human life as well as in the deterrent example that death represents.  It follows that, while Kantian Ethics does not make individual moral decision-making easy, it is practical and consistent with what most people recognise to be the most effective way to behave and run a society. 

Of course, the existence of people who are apparently without conscience and claim not to feel a duty to treat others as ends does seem to undermine Kant’s case, suggesting that the Categorical Imperative does not appeal directly to everybody through reason.  For example, mass murderers like Ian Brady and Myra Hindley or Levi Bellfield seem to be without a conscience and describing them as “pathologically loving” seems ridiculous.  Nevertheless, in “Religion within the boundaries of reason alone” (1794) Kant explained that the reason why some people appear to be without a conscience and why they don’t recognise the demand of the Categorical Imperative is because of Radical Evil.  Once a person has acted irrationally, out of deference to authority, fear or habit once, it becomes easier and easier to do the same again to the point whereby we feel powerless to change and become a “good will”. Like St Augustine, Kant saw the Human condition as one whereby we don’t do what we actively want to do and feel unable to change. For Kant, this is because rationally we appreciate that in order to deserve the heavenly reward (that Kant postulated to make sense of his moral system) we would have to have a good will, which in practice none of us have because we have all fallen short of acting on one at some point, not least in childhood.  Without any reasonable hope of reward, it becomes irrational to follow the demands of reason.  It is not rational to do what will make us miserable forever and can never result in any happiness.  In effect, we are trapped between the demands of reason with respect of moral action and following the categorical imperative and the demands of reason with respect of not doing what will only make us miserable.  Kant’s solution to this and way of making it possible to change and be good despite feeling trapped was controversial.  Again, Kant depended on St Augustine’s theology.  That is, to trust in the order and fairness of the universe, to believe in the possibility of moral regeneration, to assert our freedom to do what is right.  Jesus’ example is important; He showed that it is possible to have a “good will” making it rational to trust and believe.  While Goethe accused Kant of “smearing his philosopher’s cloak with the shameful stain of original sin” and recent writers have speculated that Kant was losing his reason by the time he developed this part of his theory. In fact, Kant makes rational sense of Augustinian teachings about the human condition and why it is difficult to do what we know we ought. While it is true that Kantian Ethics is extremely demanding and sets an impossibly high standard, it is the fact that it is demanding and not its abstract nature which is the reason why many people are reluctant to use it in moral decision making.  This shows that despite being abstract, Kantian Ethics is also practical, because it is rooted in real human experience.

In conclusion, Kantian Ethics is practical and can be used in moral decision making, despite being rooted in abstract concepts such as reason and duty.  This is because Kantian Ethics is more practical than Natural Law, Situation Ethics and Utilitarianism, being focused on helping people to make decisions autonomously, rather than forcing people to follow absolute rules that take no account of complexity or forcing people to predict and weigh up consequences with insufficient information to do so accurately.  Also, because Kantian Ethics is rooted in the practical experience of being human and provides a rational explanation of why people feel unable to do what they know they should do.  Kantian Ethics may be harsh and demanding, but so is the world and so are the dilemmas we face.  Rather than letting us hide behind rules or forcing us to play God, Kantian Ethics supports us to recognise and have the strength to follow our consciences and the demands of reason, which Kant called the Categorical Imperative.  Act fairly and consistently, honour and don’t use people, set an example and act as though you were being watched… these are moral guidelines we all recognise from childhood and practical experience. They are not too abstract to be practical and should always determine how we make moral decisions.

Assess Boethius’ view that divine eternity does not limit free will. [40 marks]

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Boethius discusses the relationship between God’s eternity and human free will in his “consolations of philosophy” Book V.  Here, in dialogue with “Lady Philosophy” Boethius confronts the apparent problem caused by God’s omniscience, namely that it limits human free will.  He wrote: “if God foresees everything, and can in no wise be deceived, that which providence foresees to be about to happen must necessarily come to pass.”  It seems that if God knows what I will do and there are no alternate possibilities, then I am determined by God’s knowledge and cannot justly be held responsible for my actions.  This undermines God’s goodness, as Christians believe that human beings will be judged and rewarded or punished by God based on their free choices.  Boethius wrote, if God knows what we will do before we do it then “Vainly are rewards and punishments proposed for the good and bad, since no free and voluntary motion of the will has deserved either one or the other; nay, the punishment of the wicked and the reward of the righteous, which is now esteemed the perfection of justice, will seem the most flagrant injustice…” Nevertheless, Boethius argues – through Lady Philosophy’s responses – that God’s eternal omniscience is compatible with human free will, meaning that God’s omniscience does not undermine God’s omnibenevolence and justice.  Unfortunately, Boethius’ argument is unsuccessful in this respect.

Firstly, Boethius argues that because God is outside time and space, his knowledge of our choices is contingent and does not make what we choose necessary.  Boethius uses the analogy of a chariot; my knowledge that it passed me at a particular time does not make it travel faster or slower or take that route… my knowledge of its motion is contingent on its motion and does not make its motion logically or naturally necessary.  Similarly, God’s knowledge of my choices is contingent and does not determine what I choose.  St Anselm later developed Boethius’ argument, again emphasising that God’s knowledge of what I do does not make me do what I do.  However, despite Boethius’ attempt to “play the mystery card” and muddle the issue, writing “the movement of human reasoning cannot cope with the simplicity of the Divine foreknowledge”, his argument is unconvincing because if God is outside space and time then He must be wholly simple and His knowledge of creation cannot be separate from his single act of creation.  The things that God knows contingently, can’t be contingent on human choices or events in time – Boethius acknowledges that  “it is preposterous to speak of the occurrence of events in time as the cause of eternal foreknowledge” – so God knows what he knows about human choices contingently because he created us to act this way and because our choices are contingent on Him.  As St Thomas Aquinas reasoned, and more recently Gerry Hughes sj. explained, God’s knowledge is not like our knowledge… If God is wholly simple, as a timeless-eternal God must be, then God’s knowledge can only be causative and not reflective.  Boethius emphasises the difference between God’s knowledge, which comes from pure rational intuition and not from limited observation, but seemingly fails to appreciate that there can be no separation in God’s timelessly simple nature between God’s knowledge of what he creates and his action in creating it. If God’s knowledge of what we do depends on how He created us to act, then clearly Boethius view that divine eternity does not limit free will must be mistaken.

Secondly, Boethius argues that because God is outside time and space, his knowledge of events in no way precedes those events, so the use of the word “foreknowledge” to describe God’s knowledge of what is future to us is a misleading analogy.  If God’s knowledge is not really foreknowledge, but knowledge of what happens in an eternal present, then there is less sense that God’s knowledge determines choices and events.  Boethius was what Brian Leftow calls a Universal Presentist, seeing that past and future exist because they are eternally present to God.  St Anselm later developed Boethius’ argument, suggesting a four-dimensional view of time, whereby God’s knowledge of the time in which each event occurs is theoretical and part of the eternal present through which God sees creation.  Nevertheless, neither Boethius’ nor Anselm’s view of God’s eternity is compatible with human free will.  Just because every event is simultaneously present to God, there are no alternate possibilities, which is the very definition of determinism.  Further, Boethius’ view of God relating to creation in an “eternal present” only emphasises how Boethius’ Classical Theist God is incompatible with the Bible and thus Christian Theology and faith.  If God’s creation of the world, the fall, the incarnation and atonement, as well as the eschaton and final judgement occur concurrently to God then there can have been no other option for humanity but to have sinned and been saved… their choices were immaterial, and what God punished them for and then saved them from through Grace was always part of God’s design.  As Nelson Pike pointed out, the God of the Bible is “unavoidably tensed”, suggesting that Boethius’ view of divine eternity must be mistaken.  Further, as Anthony Kenny pointed out, the timeless-eternal view of God is “radically incoherent” and leads the divine attributes to be empty… a timeless-eternal God is incapable of acting in time, being morally good or responding to prayer or events.  What, then does it mean to call this being God, who is apparently impotent, amoral and unresponsive?  William Lane Craig likens the timeless eternal God to a granite block and rightly asks what the point of worshipping that would be!  Again, Boethius’ view that divine eternity does not limit human free will is mistaken because it contradicts its own claim that God’s knowledge must be the same as God’s creative action within God’s wholly simple nature, and because this whole concept of God is not compatible with Christian theology or faith. 

Of course, Boethius’ view has its defenders.  EL Mascall used string theory to suggest that God’s knowledge might have a temporal pole and an atemporal pole, yet while this is a helpful analogy in terms of understanding how God’s eternity might coexist with time and space, it does little to explain how God’s knowledge does not determine our actions.  On the contrary, if God’s knowledge of what I will do at any point in time depends on knowledge that is fixed at its other eternal pole there seems if anything less opportunity for me to act spontaneously.  Further, as already explained, St Anselm saw in Boethius’ view a way to reconcile God’s eternal omniscience with free will, and – according to Katherin A. Rogers in “Anselm and Freedom” (2009) his development of Boethius’ argument “offers a definition of freewill which involves a hierarchy of choice, prefiguring that recently proposed by Harry Frankfurt” p. 60  Like St Augustine, Frankfurt defines freedom as the ability to do what one wants to do.  Remember, St Augustine defines God’s omnipotence as His being able to do whatever He wants to do.  Similarly, for Frankfurt and – if Rogers is correct in her analysis – for Anselm, and perhaps for Boethius also, a person is free if they can do what they want to do. As Rogers reads him, Anselm argues that the human will is created by God with the twin desires for benefit and for justice… the will is created to want both, but able to decide which to pursue and how.  The will, created in the image of God, has aseity and decides freely and not because of preceding natural causes.  Here, Anselm was perhaps anticipated by Boethius, who wrote “that which hath the natural use of reason has the faculty of discriminative judgment, and of itself distinguishes what is to be shunned or desired…” [Consolation Book V.I] Which suggests that human freedom resides in the ability of the will to decide which desire to pursue.  This analysis suggests that Boethius and Anselm were at the least compatibilists on the issue of free will, and that their reasoning may have allowed for a greater measure of freedom. Nevertheless, Rogers’ analysis focuses on the work of St Anselm, which goes well beyond Boethius’ argument, so just because St Anselm’s view of divine eternity might be compatible with some very limited free will does not mean that Boethius view alone can do this.

In conclusion, Boethius’ view that divine eternity does not limit human free will is mistaken.  Boethius’ view of divine eternity is self-contradictory – reasoning that God’s knowledge can’t be prior knowledge because of God’s eternity, but then relying on God’s knowledge being separate from God’s action in creating what he knows.  Further, Boethius’ view of divine eternity only emphasizes the lack of any alternate possibilities, which shows that his view is inconsistent with Christian theology and faith.  While Boethius’ failure to reconcile divine eternity and human free will does not mean that Classical Theism will always lead to hard determinism, as Rogers’ argument regarding St Anselm’s development of Boethius’ position has shown, the possible success of later developments of his argument does not mean that Boethius’ own view was persuasive. 

‘Anselm’s four-dimensionalist approach successfully explains God’s action in time.’ Discuss. [40]

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St Anselm developed his understanding of how God relates to and acts in time on the basis of work already done by Boethius and before that by St Augustine. All these Classical Theists understood that God exists eternally, outside time and space. This means that Aristotle’s arguments for a Prime Mover, as well as Plato’s arguments for a Form of the Good, lend rational support for faith in God. Nevertheless, placing God outside time and space raises significant questions concerning if and how God can act within time, as well as what God’s knowledge of events within time is like and what God’s goodness can entail. If God is outside time and space then all of God’s actions – including every word that God says – must be concurrent within one simple, single act of creation. St Augustine, Boethius and St Anselm all attempted to resolve the particular problem of how God’s eternal foreknowledge seems to nullify human free will, and yet even St Anselm’s sophisticated understanding fails to explain for this, let alone how God could act in time, successfully.

Firstly, what Katherin A. Rogers claims to be St Anselm’s four-dimensionalism represents no real improvement over Boethius’ Universal Presentism in resolving the question of God’s relationship with time, whether regarding God’s knowledge or God’s actions. Whereas Presentism usually entails the belief that only the present moment really exists, the past and the future being illusory, in Boethius’ understanding because every moment is present to God, the future and past are as real as what we perceive to be the present. As Brian Leftow (in PRESENTISM, ATEMPORALITY, AND TIME’S WAY) explains, “Boethius is a temporal presentist… consider his classic simile: an atemporal God is as if on a mountain top, looking out on an entire future those lower down cannot see. It is part of the image that all the future is really there at once to be seen.” (p176) Yet this causes a problem for Boethius when it comes to God’s foreknowledge. If God sees the “future” in the same eternal moment as the “present”, how can any being be free? Because God knows what every being will do there are no alternate possibilities. Boethius argues that this problem results from out imperfect understanding of God’s eternal nature… “the reason of this obscurity is that the movement of human reasoning cannot cope with the simplicity of the Divine foreknowledge” Book V. Further, Boethius suggests that God’s knowledge does not make the outcomes of free actions logically necessary because God’s knowledge of them is contingent and dependent on those choices and outcomes occurring. “Boethius’s solution to the freedom-foreknowledge problem hinges on the claim that God’s knowledge is of all time at once and observational...” (Leftow, p176) Yet how can God’s knowledge of an event truly be conditional on that event taking place, such as to avoid making that event necessary, when God’s knowledge is eternal and identical with God’s power and goodness in God’s simple, single act of creation? Boethius’ analogy of the Chariot does nothing to help, because by his own admission, God’s knowledge is completely different to any knowledge we could have and because, as Boethius himself reminds us, there is no way that God could learn from us… as it seems He would have to if his knowledge of what we do depends on us. Further, St Anselm’s more developed position does little to resolve the problem. Like Boethius he contends that God’s knowledge, being of an eternal present, is not prior to events and so does not necessitate them. Whereas Boethius is what Leftow calls a “Universal Presentist”, St Anselm contends “but simply, you are, outside all time. For yesterday and to-day and to-morrow have no existence, except in time; but you, although nothing exists without you, nevertheless do not exist in space or time, but all things exist in you. For nothing contains you, but you contain all.” Proslogium XIX This suggests that every moment, whether we perceive it to be past, present or future, exist not only in God’s sight, but within God’s eternal being. Reflecting on what this might mean, St Anselm wrote in De Concordia 1.5 “although within eternity there is only a present, nonetheless it is not the temporal present, as is ours, but is an eternal present in which the whole of time is contained.” explaining that… “Eternity has its own simultaneity, in which exist all things that occur at the same time . . . and . . . at different times.” While Boethius position is so similar as to be identical in places, Katherin A. Rogers argues that this makes St Anselm the first true Four-Dimensionalist. She writes “Anselm, in a very clear and conscious way, adopts what I will call the “four-dimensionalist” theory of time, sometimes also called the “tenseless” theory. He is, to my knowledge, the first philosopher in history to do so.” She claims that St Anselm’s understanding of God’s relationship with time “does succeed in solving the dilemma of freedom and foreknowledge,” which might imply that it would also resolve the question of God’s eternal action. Nevertheless, Rogers’ detailed argument concerning the differences between St Anselm, Boethius and St Augustine does little to advance St Anselm’s position. While it is true that when it comes to St Augustine and Boethius, “neither elaborates his views clearly enough to rule out other interpretations” (than four dimensionalism) it is fair to say that both philosophers positions suggest that every moment is present to God, and that God’s knowledge of events is not prior to those events occurring so can’t be understood to cause those events. Given this specific overlap between Boethius and Anselm, the technicalities of their positions as regards God and time seem largely irrelevant. Rogers ends by simply restating Anselm’s argument, that God’s knowledge of the outcomes of “free” actions does not make them happen, because although God’s knowledge of those outcomes removes any alternate possibilities God’s knowledge of what we perceive to be future events is knowledge of eternally present events to God. Yet, in all practically, this is the point already made by Boethius, that God’s knowledge of “future” events is conditional like our knowledge of a chariot passing, so not such as would influence or determine such events. Whether made by Anselm or Boethius, this argument is unsuccessful in resolving the problem of freedom and foreknowledge because by these Classical Theists’ own arguments, God’s knowledge is not like ours, being simple and identical with God’s power and being. My knowing that a chariot passes by does not make the chariot speed up or slow down, but God’s knowing is the same as his doing and his being… and his knowing, doing and being in what seems to be this moment to us is concurrent with his total knowledge, action and being because His nature is to be eternal and so wholly simple. It is difficult to accept that actions can be anything other than determined when they are part of God’s eternal necessity in this way. This shows that St Anselm’s four dimensionalism fails to explain how God could act in time, successfully.

Secondly, St Anselm’s so-called Four Dimensionalism is just as inadequate as Boethius’ or Augustine’s Universal Presentism in accounting for God’s actions in time. For example, the Bible’s Salvation Narrative is, as Nelson Pike once observed, “unavoidably tensed”. St Anselm’s four dimensionalist account of God’s relationship with time suggests that every moment is present in God, suggesting that the creation is a simple, single act. However, if the creation happened at the same moment as the Fall, if Moses received the Law from God at the same moment as the same Law was fulfilled in Jesus, if the incarnation, the resurrection and the second coming all really happened at once, then there seems precious little point in Christianity. Human free will and moral responsibility are null and God’s justice a joke. As St Augustine recognized in Book XII of his Confessions, if God is timeless-eternal and wholly simple, as rationally it seems that He must be, “what was spoken was not spoken successively, one thing concluded that the next might be spoken, but all things together and eternally. Else have we time and change; and not a true eternity nor true immortality…” When God said “let there be light” – as if in the same breath he said “I am what I am” and “this is my Son; listen to Him”… meaning either that all apparent “revelations” of God’s words which imply time and a sequence of events are effective fakes… or that God intended to deceive us into thinking his words and actions responded to events and individuals. Either interpretation is gravely problematic for Christians. So much of the Bible depends on God’s actions and words being sequential that accepting a timeless-eternal view of God could only result in abandoning the Bible as a meaningful source of authority. Further, suggesting that God intended to deceive us when he seemed to speak with and respond to the Prophets, or when he seems to respond to our prayers, is both incompatible with St Anselm’s own account of God’s omnipotence – which expressly excludes God’s ability to act from impotence, such as by lying or deceiving people (“Therefore, O Lord, our God, the more truly are you omnipotent, since you are capable of nothing through impotence” Proslogion Book VII) – and a fundamental assault on the Christian faith. What would Christianity be if God’s personal response to prayer and events can only be understood as the equivalent of an AI chatbot response, pre-programmed to give the appearance of personal service by some cynical cost-saving consultant! Again, it seems that St Anselm’s four dimensionalism fails to explain how God could act in time, successfully.

Of course, St Anselm’s four-dimensionalism would be defended by Katherin A. Rogers, who would suggest that it is successful in explaining how God can know all events without removing the possibility of free actions or the justice of holding free agents responsible for what they choose to do. She points out how St Anselm’s four-dimensionalism is an improvement over the work of other classical theists who suggest that God’s eternal knowledge is so different and abstract that God’s omniscience might entail him not knowing what day it is! Nevertheless, in making God’s knowledge of ever present knowledge a function of God’s perfect self-knowledge, St Anselm comes very close to suggesting that all of creation exists within God. This striking view implies that God’s knowledge is contingent and depends on events, rather than causing them. While this is useful in facilitating free will, because being eternal God’s knowledge is identical with God’s action and God’s being, it also implies that God’s being contains time and space, whose nature is dynamic and the precise opposite to how God’s necessary being is usually understood. How can God be immutable if God’s knowledge depends on contingent events and God’s being contains all contingencies? St Anselm can’t pick and choose, maintaining that God’s knowledge is of contingencies but God’s being is necessary and immutable… if God is eternal, He is wholly simple and, as St Anselm himself explains in Proslogium XVIII all His attributes are really one attribute. Again, it seems that St Anselm’s four dimensionalism fails to explain how God could act in time, successfully.

Further, the alternative explanations of the relationship between God’s eternity and his action offered by Richard Swinburne is scarcely more successful than that offered by St Anselm. Swinburne suggests that an everlasting-in-time God could do anything which is compatible with His own previous actions and his attributes of omnibenevolence and omniscience. As in, God’s omnipotence consists in His being able to do anything that He wills (as St Augustine originally contended), bearing in mind that an omniscient being would not will anything contrary to what He has previously willed or which does not bring about the best possible world. This is a coherent explanation of God’s omnipotence which is better than St Anselm’s explanation in making sense of the Bible, and in making sense of God’s tendency to act in some situations and not in others. If God, from his omniscient (although temporal) perspective, could see that X action would bring about a worse outcome than doing nothing, then He would do nothing. Nevertheless, God’s omniscience could not entail His ability to know the outcomes of free actions, because He in His omnipotence made them free, so God’s assessment of the situation must needs be dynamic and ever-changing. Despite this, Swinburne’s account of God’s relationship with time is unsuccessful in explaining how God’s actions could be omnipotent in an absolute sense… God cannot break the laws of logic (as JL Mackie demanded that an omnipotent being should be able to do) because those same laws depend on God’s previous actions in creating said laws. In this regard, Anselm’s four-dimensionalism is more persuasive than Swinburne’s understanding, because being in-time Swinburne’s God is constrained in the present moment by His own past actions, which seems more of a constraint than actions which appear to be at different times to us having to be consistent with each other within God’s single, timeless creative act. Further, while Swinburne’s God can’t know the outcomes of free actions, and while this facilitates libertarian free will and genuine moral responsibility, this also radically limits God’s knowledge of the future, as human actions affect so much, given climate-change even the existence of the Earth. In supporting God’s knowledge of how events would seem to us from any given point in time as well as maintaining God’s knowledge of every moment as present, Anselm’s four-dimensionalism makes more sense of God’s knowledge than traditional Presentism, which holds that God knows every moment as present, but not which moment is present to us. It also makes more sense than Swinburne’s account of God’s knowledge, whereby God’s knowledge is radically limited by His decision to self-limit when it comes to the outcomes of free actions. Overall, while Swinburne’s account of God’s eternity is much more useful for Christianity than St Anselm’s, it offers interpretations of God’s attributes which turn out to be almost as empty as those of the Classical Theists. It seems that while St Anselm’s four-dimensionalism fails to explain how God could act in time successfully, so also other thinkers fail to resolve this problem.

In conclusion, St Anselm’s four-dimensionalism fails to explain how God could act in time successfully. Yet, this problem remains without a resolution. Classical theism renders God’s attributes empty words and faith in His existence pointless and yet Theistic Personalism, such as presented by Richard Swinburne, renders God’s attributes almost equally empty and surrenders the classical arguments as direct support for their God’s existence along the way. Much as Theistic Personalists like to co-opt the classical arguments for God’s existence to serve in cumulative arguments for God’s existence, or to defend the “reasonableness” of faith… they ignore or evade the fact that these same arguments support a God who is timeless-eternal and not a God who is everlasting-in-time. In the end, they like St Anselm must make a choice… either accept all of the implications of a rationally defensible faith-position and abandon Christianity, or stop appealing to reason at all and accept that faith in an everlasting God with meaningful attributes can only be based on experience.

Critically evaluate Kant’s criticisms of the Ontological Argument. [40] 

/ vardycharlotte / Leave a comment

The ontological argument is the name that Kant himself assigned to arguments which attempt to demonstrate God’s existence from reason alone.  Starting with an a priori definition of God, such as that God is “that than which nothing greater can be conceived of” (St Anselm, Proslogion II) or that God is “supremely perfect” (Descartes, Meditation V), ontological arguments show that existence – or necessary existence – is part of that definition and thus that God’s existence is de dicto necessary, as the fact that a man is unmarried is de dicto necessary if he is a bachelor.  Having coined the term “ontological argument”, Kant went on to criticise these arguments in the opening to his Critique of Pure Reason (1781), arguing that the arguments fail because 1) all existential statements must be synthetic, 2) existence is not a perfection and 3) existence is not a predicate.  He concludes that the ontological argument is “so much labour and effort lost” because it cannot do what it sets out to do and prove God’s existence from reason alone.  Nevertheless, despite being enormously influential, Kant’s criticisms fail to establish the impossibility of an ontological argument for God’s existence because they depend on Kant’s worldview which he asserts dogmatically and fails to argue for. 

Kant’s claim that the ontological argument fails because all existential statements must be synthetic is nothing more than an assertion of his own critical worldview, developed in the years after Hume “awoke me from my dogmatic slumbers and gave a completely different direction to my enquiries…” in 1770.  Kant claims that “If, then, I try to conceive a being, as the highest reality (without any defect), the question still remains, whether it exists or not. For though in my concept there may be wanting nothing of the possible real content of a thing in general, something is wanting in its relation to my whole state of thinking, namely, that the knowledge of that object should be possible a posteriori also…” He points out that there is nothing self-contradictory about saying “God does not exist”, because existence cannot be part of the concept of God, but must always be established empirically, synthetically, so that existence is always contingent and includes the possibility of non-existence. Yet, what privileges a posteriori knowledge over a priori knowledge, beyond Kant’s assertion?  As GW Hegel noticed straightaway and as WV Quine late pointed out in his “Two Dogmas of Empiricism” (1951) Kant simply asserts that meaningful claims must be either synthetic or analytic and that all existential claims must be synthetic.  Who says that the empirical senses are the arbiters of existence or that nothing can be said to exist that is incapable of being experienced through the senses?  How could it be reasonable to suggest that the senses of a hairless ape inhabiting temperate regions of an insignificant planet orbiting a small star on an outer spiral of the milky way provide the only window on reality?  As Plato and Descartes would have agreed, the “reality” we experience through our senses is ever-changing, imperfect and seen through the filter of senses and concepts in the mind.  Concepts and ideas are permanent and our window on them through reason less misty, so it is more reasonable to see these as ultimate reality.  Further, for followers of Wittgenstein, even if Kant’s worldview is accepted, as Norman Malcolm pointed out, Kant’s worldview and thus “language game” is just one out of many.  To those who hold a different worldview – such as a Platonic worldview in which ultimate reality is metaphysical and the means of accessing it reason – the claim that all existential statements must be synthetic is untrue and unconvincing.  It follows that Kant’s criticism fails to destroy the possibility of an ontological proof for God’s existence.  

Kant’s claim that the ontological argument also fails because existence is not a perfection fails because, as Charles Hartshorne pointed out, while ordinary contingent existence is not a perfection, necessary existence might well be.  Kant’s example of 100 thalers being the same in concept whether it exists or not, and not 101 thalers or 150 by existing, seems to make his point convincingly… and yet neither Anselm nor Descartes conceives of God’s existence being like the existence of other, contingent things.  A chocolate cake, a unicorn, a man or an island might be said to exist or not to exist, but only God can necessarily exist, so while existence might not alter the concept of cake, unicorn, man or island, necessary existence is of the essence of God as the supremely perfect being.  Charles Hartshorne suggested that Anselm’s ontological argument in Prosologion 3 might well evade Kant’s criticism that existence is not a perfection for this reason, nevertheless, Kant would reject this criticism of his point, rejecting the whole concept of necessary existence.  As he had already said, all existential statements must be synthetic, so necessary existence is, in Kant’s worldview, impossible.  JN Findlay noted this, suggesting that “it was indeed an ill day for Anselm when he hit upon his famous proof. For on that day he not only laid bare something that is of the essence of an adequate religious object, but also something that entails its necessary non-existence.” (Findlay, 1948) And that Anselm’s ontological argument in Proslogion III, by demonstrating how God’s contingent existence is impossible, shows that God’s existence is impossible because nothing can necessarily exist.  Yet, as I have already argued, Findlay and Kant are doing nothing more than asserting their own worldview, which excludes necessary existence not because it is inconceivable but because it is not compatible with their stated position which privileges things which can be experienced through the empirical senses. Further, as Hartshorne also pointed out, if it makes sense to talk about God’s necessary non-existence then it makes just as much sense to talk about God’s necessary existence. And, as Norman Malcolm pointed out, what is possible and impossible depends more on our language game than on what it might or might not refer to objectively.  It seems that in arguing that existence is not a perfection Kant got no further than Gaunilo had in refuting the ontological argument; again he just asserted that it was incompatible with his own limited worldview.  

Finally, Kant wrongly argued that existence is not a predicate.  By this Kant meant that existence cannot be accidentally predicated of God, because – as Anselm had pointed out – God’s existence is not something that might or might not be true of God.  Also, existence is wrongly used as an accidental predicate in relation to other things, because it adds nothing to the concept of the object (is not a perfection).  Rather, existence is the basis on which anything else can meaningfully be predicated.  As Russell pointed out, if I say “the present King of France is bald” I imply that there is a present King of France, which makes my predication of baldness meaningful.  If there is no present King of France, predicating anything of him is meaningless.  Similarly, if I say that God exists, I imply that there is a God who exists, smuggling my conclusion into my premises and in this way begging the question.  It follows that existence is not an accidental predicate and could not be used as one of God even if it were.  Further, existence cannot be essentially predicated of anything because… all existential statements must be synthetic. Here again, Kant reverts to asserting his worldview.  While He is right to point out that existence is not an accidental predicate because it is not a perfection, this is beside the point when it comes to the Ontological Argument, as Anselm pointed out in his Responsio to Gaunilo.  In this context, the question concerns whether existence is of the essence and nature of God, whether God necessarily exists.  As Hartshorne reasoned, necessary existence might well be predicated essentially of God, even if contingent existence cannot be used as an accidental predicate of anything.  For Hartshorne there are three alternatives for us to consider: 

i.God is impossible 

ii.God is possible, but may or may not exist 

iii.God exists necessarily. 

because God cannot be just a possibility, since he is by definition preeminent, so God’s existence is necessary.  Hartshorne’s modal ontological argument has been refined in different ways, including by Plantinga and Craig, but in essence – for those who share his worldview at least – it proves God’s necessary existence.  It seems that Kant’s criticism that existence is not a predicate fails to undermine the ontological argument either, at least beyond those who share his worldview.   

In conclusion, Kant’s criticisms of the Ontological Argument are persuasive if and only if you share his limited and dogmatic worldview.  Of course, many Philosophers did and do share this worldview – including Lotze, Schopenhauer, Russell and Findlay – and they will not accept the existence of other worldviews because it is part of their worldview to see their own perspective as the only truthful perspective on reality.  Nevertheless, for anybody who holds a different worldview – such as for St Anselm, Descartes, Hartshorne or Malcolm – Kant’s criticisms are ineffective and there is still the possibility of proving God’s existence a priori, from reason alone.  If ultimate reality is metaphysical and accessed through reason not empirical experience, and if existence is not defined in terms of being contingent existence, then the concept of God can de dicto necessarily contain His necessary existence despite His being incapable of empirical observation.