When times are good, be happy; but when
times are bad, consider: God has made the one as well as the other. Therefore,
a man cannot discover anything about his future.
Ecclesiastes 7:14, The Holy Bible, New
International Version
Hi,
there. Been too long since my last post, and for that I apologize. Life and
work conspired, and the hiatus in blogging was much longer then intended. From
here on in, I can’t promise much regularity either – like I say: life and work.
But if you’ll keep visiting – and blogger’s stats indicate that you have – I’ll
keep trying to provide something worth visiting, when I can.
Although I’ve been busy, I’ve also been keeping a metaphorical
toe in familiar waters. One
way I’ve done that is by enjoying Peter Adamson’s podcast, the History of Philosophy Without Any
Gaps. I can’t recommend it highly enough: it’s accessible and rigorous and seamlessly
scripted, so do yourself a favor and give it a listen or three. I certainly
have, and the bits that have stuck in my philosophical craw are concerned with
theodicy. A theodicy, as I’ve discussed before,
is any attempt at reconciling a world of apparent evil and suffering with a God
that is meant to be perfectly omnipotent, omniscient and benevolent. With those
characteristics, one would have thought the big guy would be both willing and
able to do away with suffering. As wiser heads have put it:
Is
he willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then is he impotent. Is he able, but
not willing? Then is he malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Whence then is
evil?
David Hume, Dialogues Concerning
Natural Religion
I wanted to revisit this theme, because Prof. Adamson’s
podcast has given me more food for thought. Apparently the
so-called Problem of Evil – PoE, if you will - comes in different flavors. First,
you have what’s called the Logical
Problem of evil, basically as above. The claim is that you can’t have the three
traditional characteristics of the Abrahamic god - as well as the bare fact of suffering and
evil in the world - and be logically consistent. The logical PoE can sometimes
be seen as a big gun in debates and apologetics. But as Prof. Adamson notes, in response it only requires that one shows
that there is - in fact - a logically consistent way for suffering to get along
with the Big Three of god’s personality profile. And many would claim that such
a scheme exists: God is good, and his
power knows no limits. But being good, he wants to make the best possible world for his creations and the best
possible creations for his world. What
this means is the possibility of error, of sin. Thus, moral evil and
natural suffering become the unavoidable consequences of the optimal possible
compromise between God’s prerogatives and the needs of free will. You might not
like the implications, and you may not grant the premises. But it does appear
to provide a scheme that is internally valid and logically consistent. God is
all powerful, but even he can’t do the logically impossible – like make a world
where there is free will but no possibility of evil. And so, the Logical PoE can be answered.
But I mentioned flavors. One such is the so-called Evidential Problem of Evil. We can acknowledge,
in the abstract, the logical consistency of some theodicies. Despite this, we
can still question whether the actual existence and abundance of specific ills
and awfulness are consonant with a world watched over by a loving and
all-powerful god. I bring this up not to score points, but because I now think
that apparent strength the Logical PoE actually arises from
the moral force of the evidential version. At least, I think this was the case
for me. Because it would take a rare
breed to maintain their abstraction in the face of their first encounter with a
war-wounded child, or any other genuine object of actual, real suffering. How, exactly, are these specific ills necessary in the best of all possible worlds? This
implicit heartlessness is among the objects of Voltaire’s ire in his satirical treatment
of Leibnizian
Optimism, Candide. In the words of Doctor Pangloss:
It is demonstrable that things cannot be otherwise than as they are; for as all things have been created for some end, they must necessarily be created for the best end. Observe, for instance, the nose is formed for spectacles, therefore we wear spectacles.
And so, based on this logic, syphilis is a necessary evil because:
…it was a thing unavoidable, a
necessary ingredient in the best of worlds; for if Columbus had not caught in
an island in America this disease, which contaminates the source of generation,
and frequently impedes propagation itself, and is evidently opposed to the
great end of nature, we should have had neither chocolate nor cochineal.
While Voltaire deliberately takes
the argument to an extreme, there is a valid point here: exactly how much
collateral damage is acceptable? This leads us to another ‘problem’ that I like
to call the Problem of Inconsistent Evil, and it goes like this: I once had a student, a religious guy who enjoyed talking about his religiosity. He’d tell me stories of the
workings of providence in his life. A favorite was a road trip with his family
where his father uncharacteristically stopped too long at an intersection, and thereby avoided a tragic accident as a
loose trailer shot down the road. They surely would have been hurt had it not been for
the father’s unexplained pause. Great. Lovely, as far as it goes. But what about all the times providence doesn't stay the execution? What about the times when people do die, in senseless and even
stupid ways. Because evil not only exists, it has contours: it’s not spread
around evenly. And if the good things are a sign of the Good God and his will,
then surely that counts for the bad too? If the one judgement implies benevolence, surely the other
implies something too? Again, it’s possible to construct a logically valid argument that the
judgement serves some lofty and unknown purpose, that the distribution of
suffering is as it should be and serves some great plan. But again –
evidentially - by exactly how much, and against who, is suffering and evil justified?
Orthodox theology is generally creationist, in the sense
that the universe’s existence is a specifically willed, active choice of a
creator god. This seems – to me at least - to frame the moral culpability for
evil differently than other forms of cosmology. An emanationist scheme - where the universe sort of flows
forth from the divine principle more or less as a consequence of the bare fact
of 'his' existence - is a different kettle of fish. It’s also different for
materialism, where there is no transcendent cause. Particularly in the latter,
neither Evil nor its Inconsistency is a problem in the sense that we’ve been
discussing: because the universe isn’t for
us. It isn’t for anything. I might be
tempted to leave the blog post there, secure in the knowledge that another
theist muddle has been unpicked. But, it seems that even this view might have a
problem. If it’s not made specially for us, the fact
that we are here when we might not have been poses a conundrum. From
the fine tuning of fundamental constants to the orbit of the earth around the
sun and the sun around the galactic core in a zone conducive to the productive
of life, it all seems like rather long odds doesn’t it? As we’ve discussed before, the guide to how improbable, how miraculous something is not the times we know it to have happened, but all the times it could have happened, but didn’t. And as for that number we - theist or not - have not a
clue. But that isn’t the problem I’m talking about. The
problem is, if the universe is not for us, if it is not made to our needs and
our specifications, then what right do we have to expect anything other than
hardship in an uncaring, even hostile universe? This is the problem: the problem
of happiness, or at least of the possibility of happiness.
The thing is, though, that this kind of thinking betrays a
notion of our place in nature that is still exceptionalist. As if we were
thrown into this world de novo, from
the outside, like a reluctant kid thrown into a swimming pool and left to sink
or swim. It’s a bleak perspective, and I
can see why it’s unappealing to many people. It’s also unnecessary. From the
materialistic perspective we are of
the universe, at home in it. It may
not have been made for us, but we may
very well have been made for it even in the absence of a god to play architect or overseer.
All it takes is space enough and time. Acknowledging
this and understanding it as best I can through the best way I know (science),
is my consolation and my way of learning how to know it - really know it- skin deep. My lack of
faith isn’t due to PoE or indeed – if I’m honest – any particular logical claim or
counterclaim. It’s a feeling, a sense, that all the gods I’ve been exposed to
are too small, too parochial. The
universe is bigger, more diverse than we can imagine, and that tells me it wasn’t
made solely or at all for little old humanity. But we are part of that amazing
tapestry, a phenomenon as amazing and precious as all the mundane miracles going
around us every minute. We are at home in the universe, or can be, and that
offers – to me - the possibility of happiness. I keep returning to this theme,
not because I’m sure it’s possible to reach a tidy conclusion. Rather, the
more I scratch at these problems it the more it feels like answers - however tentative - to these problems are the core of
what is required of a satisfying cosmology. One
answer is providence. It doesn’t work for me, it implies to much complicity in mundane and monstrous hurts. Another answer is a kind of belonging
that I’ve tried to articulate: Our belonging in the world provides an opportunity to build on happiness, despite the difficulties we encounter. I spend a lot of my time on this blog identifying
differences.The answers here may seem different, but the question is the same, and the asking of it something that connects everyone, regardless of the details of our beliefs.
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