The Problem of God

By S.H. Smith

The Problem of God falls into two equal parts. The first of these deals with the traditional theistic arguments for Gods existence (ontological, cosmological, teleological, experiential, moral), exploring the extent to which they succeed as rational arguments. On the assumption that the God of traditional theism does exist, the second part addresses the problems posed by his traditional attributes (his eternity, omnipotence, omniscience, omnipresence, and role as creator). The aim of the book is to encourage the reader to engage with problems that are too often overlooked.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Jun 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499086102

S.H. Smith

Stephen Smith holds an MA in Religion and Philosophy from Heythrop College, London, and for many years taught philosophy of religion at Bennett Memorial Diocesan School in Tunbridge Wells. His previous publications include A Lion With Wings: A Narrative-Critical Approach to Mark’s Gospel (Sheffield Academic Press, 1996), and Unlocking the Bible: A Layperson’s Guide (Xlibris, 2013). He now lives in retirement in Sheffield.

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CONTENTS

Introduction

Part 1: Five Theistic Arguments

Chapter 1: Ontological Arguments

Chapter 2: Cosmological Arguments

Chapter 3: Teleological Arguments

Chapter 4: Arguments From Religious Experience

Chapter 5: Moral Arguments

Theistic Arguments: Conclusions

Part 2: Divine Attributes

Chapter 6: Time, Eternity, Change, And Simplicity

Chapter 7: Omnipotence

Chapter 8: Omniscience

Chapter 9: Omnipresence

Chapter 10: Creator

Divine Attributes: Conclusions

Bibliography

To my former students at the Bennett Memorial Diocesan School, Tunbridge Wells, without whom this book would never have come to be written.

INTRODUCTION

In this day and age, most people live their lives in a default position. That is to say, they adopt a vague notion about the way the world is—or how they suppose it to be—and then simply get on with the business of living. It hardly occurs to them to give an account of why they believe what they do. Most ‘atheists’, for instance, claim to be so on the basis of a presupposition that God does not exist. When pressed to provide a reason, they may give a somewhat inarticulate account of the suffering in the world, and the fact that the world seems to sustain life in a way that can be demonstrated scientifically, without the need for resorting to the supernatural. There is no obvious evidence of miracles, and prayer seems to be ineffective. Beyond that, there is no desire on the part of most so-called atheists to justify their beliefs or, more accurately, their presuppositions.

But this reluctance to reason out one’s position is magnified when we turn to religious belief. By and large, religious faith is an emotional experience manifested through the senses. In most evangelical—especially charismatic—churches, although the Bible is said to be the word of God, the faithful in general are remarkably ignorant of its content, relying in the main on what they learned at Sunday school or imbibed at their mother’s knee. Certainly, the Bible scholar, whose job it is to analyse the text and identify and account for its many contradictions and discrepancies, is eyed with the utmost suspicion by the Christian community. Many believers simply disregard objections to their preconceived views, holding it to be something of a virtue to resist the way of reason by means of blind faith. But is it such a virtue? As Hume famously said, ‘The wise man… proportions his belief to the evidence’¹. Surely one’s beliefs should be underpinned by reasons for believing. Even the Bible would seem to endorse this, for 1 Pet. 3: 15 urges the faithful to ‘always be prepared to give an answer (apologia) to everyone who asks you to give the reason (logos) for the hope you have’—a text to which most Christians pay little heed, assuming that they are aware of it at all.

But why should reason matter? Does it make any difference to the grand scheme of things? Certainly, it generally makes people less arrogant in their beliefs. Once it is recognised that there are arguments and counterarguments for any view, one is less inclined to hold rigidly to one’s time-honoured opinions and to claim a position of ultimate truth. One of the great tragedies of the modern world is fundamentalism, not only because of the terrorist movements it spawns, but also because of its mindless futility. After all, Christian, Muslim and Hindu fundamentalism are incompatible. If, as many Christians claim, Christianity is absolutely true, then Muslim claims cannot be—and vice versa. Hume, once again, made much the same point with regard to miracles: if Christians claim validity for the miracles of Jesus and the Church, but deny validity to the miracle claims of other religions, perhaps they ultimately cancel one another out.² Although this is not inevitably the case, as Hume seems to think, it is a point that should give pause for reflection.

For many people, religion is less a case of living life sub specie aeternitatis than a personal insurance policy for the present. The belief in a personal Creator or guardian angel, no matter how irrational, provides confidence and comfort for personal living, while, for some, diminishing the importance of the existential condition. The ‘hope’ of which 1 Peter speaks is, of course, the hope of eternal life, and if one expects to have all eternity to play with, the present life pales into insignificance by comparison. Yet eternity is perhaps better regarded not as more life after this one, but in terms of fullness of life in the here and now. Life today would be a great deal better if fewer believers ceased regarding the world merely as God’s waiting room. Even the seasoned reasoner, if caught in the net of his religious presuppositions, can fall victim to this fallacy. William Lane Craig, for instance, who is certainly no stranger to philosophy and its role in justifying Christian belief³, nevertheless argues that there can be no meaning to the present world except in the light of immortality. Why there cannot be any intrinsic meaning to this life he does not sufficiently explain. Surely, some things can simply be worthwhile in themselves. For me, Craig’s evangelical presuppositions are the controlling factor to which his philosophical principles are in thrall. Reason is for him but a tool which, ultimately, must always be sacrificed on the altar of faith—and, of course, only the Christian faith at that.

Most people are preoccupied with the business of living—living either on the assumption that God is present, or that he is absent. To some degree this dictates the manner in which a person lives. First order questions are generally assumed either to be of no importance at all, or to have been settled to a level of satisfaction which makes it possible for people to get on with life without worrying much about them. For instance, the religious believer tends to assume that God is acting in his or her life, answering prayer and so on, without considering the first order question of what, precisely, is meant by God and, indeed, whether he exists at all. These are the issues with which we shall be concerned in this volume. There are two parts to it. Part 1 (five chapters) examines the classic theistic arguments for God’s existence, while Part 2 (five chapters) examines the nature of God through his traditional attributes. It must be said at once that each chapter-length topic covered here is a huge area of enquiry in itself; every one of them has attracted book-length studies in its own right, not to mention a plethora of journal articles, and (to bring matters into the twenty-first century) web site contributions. All I am attempting here is a brief outline of the relevant issues.

For present purposes, I shall be focusing on the arguments for and against the classical theistic ‘proofs’, and on the issues raised by the traditional assessment of God’s attributes, rather than on the arguments for and against atheism. In his many debates with atheists, William Craig has generally demanded that his opponent give reasons for his atheism, claiming that, invariably, what the atheist does provide is simply a raft of reasons against theism, which is not the same as presenting a rational case for God’s non-existence. There may be enough truth in this assertion to justify our omitting the atheist case from the present study, and focusing instead purely on the philosophical case for theism.

But why yet another work on the philosophy of religion? There are some excellent ‘readers’ on the market⁴ that tackle the issues systematically through extracts or complete articles taken from the original authors, both classical philosophers and their contemporary counterparts. The drawback here, of course, is that the language is undiluted and can be difficult to understand either because the style is that of an earlier age, or because the concepts discussed are difficult to grasp, or both. There are several good treatments of the essential issues which are systematically discussed chapter by chapter, but they often assume some prior knowledge, and are aimed at a fairly intellectual market where the non-specialist finds it difficult to keep a foothold.⁵ At the other end of the scale, there are some excellent texts designed for the student market—notably the sixth-form sector—which may be useful for study and revision purposes, but rather too superficial for an adequate understanding of the philosophical issues involved.⁶ The present book, therefore, is aimed at a middle-of-the-road readership. The hope is to tackle the essential issues at greater depth than the ‘A’ level texts, while still maintaining accessibility for the general reader. In addition, it is hoped that it will be of particular interest to those professing religious belief, and that it will encourage serious consideration of the first-order questions on which faith should be based. Above all, I wish to demonstrate, if possible, that faith can retain an important and valid place in the sophisticated society in which we now live, and that, once shorn of anachronisms and implausibilities, it will prove to be better equipped to operate alongside our sophisticated understanding of the contemporary world.

Notes

¹ Hume, D., An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, Flew, A. (ed.) (Chicago and La Salle, IL.: Open Court, 1988, orig. 1751), 144.

² Hume, Enquiry, 154-55.

³ Witness, for example, the key theme of his book Reasonable Faith (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, ³2008).

⁴ Craig, W. L. (ed.), Philosophy of Religion: A Reader and Guide (Edinburgh: Edinburgh UP, 2002); Davies, B. (ed.), Philosophy of Religion: A Guide and Anthology (Oxford: OUP, 2000); Meister, C. (ed.), The Philosophy of Religion Reader (London and New York: Routledge, 2008); Peterson, M., et al. (eds.), Philosophy of Religion: Selected Readings (San Diego: Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich, ²1989).

⁵ Mackie, J. L., The Miracle of Theism (Oxford: Clarendon, 1982); Swinburne, R., The Existence of God (Oxford: Clarendon, 1991). Both these have become classic texts in the field. Mackie argues from his position as an atheist, Swinburne from a theist position. Both can be tough going for the non-specialist.

⁶ Cole, P., Philosophy of Religion (London: Hodder & Stoughton, ²2004); Jordan, A., Lockyer, N. and Tate, E., Philosophy of Religion for A Level (Cheltenham: Nelson Thornes, 2004). The latter is more substantial than Cole and serves as a handy introduction for the beginner. Also to be recommended in this category is Clack, B. and Clack, B. R., The Philosophy of Religion: A Critical Introduction (Cambridge: Polity, 1998); Jones, G., Cardinal, D. and Hayward, J., Philosophy of Religion (London: Hodder Education, 2005); and we should not neglect Peter Vardy’s classic The Puzzle of God (London: HarperCollins, 1990).

PART I

Five Theistic Arguments

Theistic arguments can be regarded as attempts to demonstrate God’s existence through reason. They are sometimes described as ‘proofs’ of God’s existence, although the word here is being used in the strictly philosophical sense rather than in an absolute one. Most of the philosophers who formulated these arguments were already believers and sought only to demonstrate that the object of their belief was capable of rational verification. It is unlikely that any of these ‘proofs’ would convince a non-believer, although they might have the effect of strengthening an already existing faith. Bearing this in mind, let us summarise the five classic theistic arguments, or, to be more accurate, classes of argument:

• The Ontological Argument. In a nutshell, this states that if we can have a properly conceived definition of God—one that implies necessary existence—then, by virtue of that definition, he must exist. Put so briefly, this sounds a rather bemusing proposition, but we shall unpack the argument in some detail in the following chapter.

• The Cosmological Argument, like the previous one, comes in a variety of forms but states fundamentally that everything which exists must have a cause for its existence. This applies to causes themselves and to causes of causes. But cause and effect cannot go on ad infinitum; there must be an ultimate uncaused cause—and this must be what we call God.

• The Teleological Argument, or argument from design, is perhaps the best known among non-specialists. Basically, it alleges that, since the world appears to have both order and regularity, there must be an intelligence responsible for it, since such a state of affairs could not simply have come about randomly. This ultimate intelligence must be God.

• The Experiential Argument, as its name implies, suggests that God is made manifest through the individual’s religious or spiritual experiences. As it is impossible to prove such private experiences invalid, we should give the benefit of the doubt to those who have, in all sincerity, made such a claim.

• The Moral Argument, is, again, a term given to several arguments based on morality, the fundamental assertion being that as mankind clearly operates on the basis of a moral code or codes and has a basic sense of right and wrong, there must be a moral agent—a divine law-giver, as it were—who is responsible for it.

Although these five arguments are not the only ones for God’s existence, they are the ones we shall be dealing with over the following five chapters. It is better, perhaps, to deal with a limited number in detail rather than with a larger number more superficially.

CHAPTER 1

ONTOLOGICAL ARGUMENTS

The term ‘ontological’ is derived from the Greek word ontos, meaning ‘being’, and in philosophical terms, ontological arguments are known as a priori arguments. In other words, the argument runs from cause to effect and is prior to experience. This means that its deductive reasoning is drawn from thought alone. The first two versions of the argument, and the most famous, were formulated by Anselm (1033-1109), a one-time Archbishop of Canterbury. Later, the French rationalist philosopher Descartes (1596-1650), apparently without knowledge of Anselm’s work, developed his own version of the argument. Despite centuries of criticism, the argument has survived into modern times and has been given fresh impetus by figures such as Norman Malcolm (1911-90) and Alvin Plantinga (b. 1932).

1. Anselm’s First Ontological Argument

a) The Argument in Proslogion 2

Let us begin our investigation of the ontological argument with Anselm’s own words:

Now we believe that You (God) are something greater than which nothing can be thought. Or can it be that a thing of such a nature does not exist, since ‘the Fool has said in his heart, there is no God’ (Ps. 14: 1; 53: 1)? But surely, when this same fool hears what I am speaking about, namely, ‘something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought’, he understands what he hears, and what he understands is in his mind, even if he does not understand that it actually exists… Even the fool, then, is forced to agree that something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought exists in the mind, since he understands this when he hears it and whatever is understood is in the mind. And surely that-than-which-a-greater-cannot-be-thought cannot exist in the mind alone. For if it exists solely in the mind, it can be thought to exist in reality also, which is greater. If then that-than-which-a-greater-cannot be-thought exists in the mind alone, this same that-than-which-a-greater-cannot-be-thought is that-than-which-a-greater-can-be thought. But this is obviously impossible. Therefore there is absolutely no doubt that something-than-which-a-greater-cannot-be-thought exists both in the mind and in reality.¹

Even in translation, Anselm’s argument can be difficult to grasp initially. When I was teaching sixth form students, the ontological argument always proved to be a penny-dropping exercise. The smartest students caught on straight away, whereas for others, it took time. But eventually, all succumbed to its seductive guile and saw the point. And once this had happened, the tendency was nearly always to accept its validity without further scrutiny.

The bones of the argument can be set out as follows:

• God is a being ‘a greater than which cannot be thought’ or conceived.

• Anyone can envisage such a being in the mind.

• But as long as such a being remains a mere concept, the definition ‘a greater than which cannot be thought’ remains unfulfilled, because a being that actually exists would be greater than one confined to the mind alone, on the grounds that existence in reality (de re) is greater than existence as a mere conception.

• Thus, if we accept the initial definition, God must exist a priori.

A couple of explanatory remarks are required here. First, we should be aware that Anselm was not setting out what we would understand to be a rational proof; he was not attempting to convince the imaginary fool mentioned in the text. Rather, he was exploring the possibility of applying the power of reason to what he already believed. The Proslogion was a comparatively early work (1077), which was intended as a sequel to the Monologion, which in turn was conceived as a meditation written at the request of the monks at Bec Abbey, where Anselm had just become abbot. The Proslogion demonstrates a similar meditative quality alternating with passages of hard-headed philosophical thought. Chapter 1 is pure meditation, and it is in this light that Anselm’s argument in chapter 2 is to be understood.

Second, as Davies and Evans point out², although it may seem strange to us that Anselm is able to jump from definition to reality with such facility, his was an essentially Platonic view in which ideas and intellect were considered to have a greater reality than what was apparent only to the senses. In effect then, Anselm was arguing that if God could be conceived by the intellect, it was no great thing to suppose that he could exist at a level of reality which was distinguishable more by kind than by quality.

b) The Argument in Proslogion 3

Anselm’s further comments can be understood as a separate argument to the effect that God’s existence not only follows from the given definition, but is also absolutely necessary. He writes:

And certainly this being so truly exists that it cannot be even thought not to exist. For something can be thought to exist that cannot be thought not to exist, and this is greater than that which can be thought not to exist. Hence, if that-than-which-a-greater-cannot-be-thought can be thought not to exist, then that-than-which-a-greater-cannot-be-thought is not the same as that-than-which-a-greater-cannot-be-thought, which is absurd. Something-than-which-a-greater-cannot-be-thought exists so truly, then, that it cannot be even thought not to exist.³

This is a rather convoluted way of arguing that if existence is part of God’s essence, it must be necessary existence which is altogether different from contingent existence. Take any individual—say, John Smith. We may say that John Smith exists, but it is not a contradiction to say that at one time John Smith did not exist or that, had circumstances been different, he might not have existed at all. This is contingent existence. We can plausibly think of John Smith as not existing, even though at present he may do so. But we cannot think this of a being ‘a greater than which cannot be thought’, because if his existence were in any way contingent, he could not be what the definition predicates of him. In philosophical terms, therefore, we say his existence is necessary, which in Anselm’s reckoning means that he cannot not exist. To summarise:

• It is ‘more excellent’ to think of something as existing than to think of something as not existing.

• If one can think of God as not existing (like the fool in Ps. 14: 1), this cannot be ‘that-than-which-a-greater-cannot be-thought’, because it is possible to think of God as existing necessarily, and this is greater than thinking of a God who might not have existed.

• In fact, ‘that-than-which-a-greater-cannot-be-thought’ cannot be thought of as not existing.

• Therefore, God’s existence is necessary.

2. Anselm and Gaunilo

a) Gaunilo’s Challenge

Criticisms of the ontological argument were launched from the outset. The first was presented by a man named Gaunilo (or Gaunilon), a French monk from Marmoutiers (home of Madame Mouselle!), who endeavoured to take the fool’s part, applying Anselm’s reasoning to things other than God. In particular, he urges us to imagine a lost island:

‘. . . they say there is in the ocean somewhere an island which, because of the difficulty (or rather the impossibility) of finding that which does not exist, some have called the Lost Island. And the story goes that it is blessed with all manner of priceless riches and delights in abundance, much more even than the Happy Isles, and, having no owner or inhabitant, it is superior everywhere in abundance of riches to all those other islands that men inhabit. Now, if anyone tell me that it is like this, I shall easily understand what is said, since nothing is difficult about it. But if he should then go on to say, as though it were a logical consequence of this: You cannot any more doubt that this island that is more excellent than all other lands truly exists somewhere in reality than you can doubt that it is in your mind; and since it is more excellent to exist not only in the mind alone but also in reality, therefore it must needs be that it exists. For if it did not exist, any other land existing in reality would be more excellent than it, and so this island, already conceived by you to be more excellent than others, will not be more excellent. If, I say, someone wishes thus to persuade me that this island really exists beyond all doubt, I should either think that he was joking, or I should find it hard to decide which of us I ought to judge the bigger fool—I, if I agreed with him, or he, if he thought that he had proved the existence of this island with any certainty…’⁴

Gaunilo’s point is clear enough: It is absurd to think that having the mere concept of a thing, such as a lost island, necessitates its existence.

b) Anselm’s Reply

Anselm took Gaunilo seriously enough to draft a reply to this objection and insisted that Gaunilo’s tract should henceforth be published alongside his reply to it. It seems, in fact, that there was a mutual respect between the two men, as Gaunilo himself made the point at the conclusion to his piece of complimenting Anselm on the brilliance of the remainder of his tract and suggested only that his ontological argument, as we now call it, ‘should be demonstrated more firmly and so everything received with very great respect and praise’.⁵ Gaunilo was clearly on Anselm’s side.

In his reply, Anselm endeavoured to maintain his position by arguing that although Gaunilo’s objection served well enough for contingent things, it would not do in the case of God. In effect, he provides us with a commentary on his original argument. The main thrust of his reply is to magnify the distinction between contingent and necessary existence. Anything which is contingent must have been caused to come into being and so at one time did not exist. Gaunilo’s Lost Island clearly comes into this category. Thus:

‘You (Gaunilo) claim… that it cannot be doubted that a certain island… truly exists in reality since anyone easily understands it when it is described in words. Now, I truly promise that if anyone should discover for me something existing either in reality or in the mind alone—except that-than-which-a-greater-cannot-be-thought—to which the logic of my argument would apply, then I shall find that Lost Island and give it, never more to be lost, to that person.’⁶

In other words, God is one of a kind, only he being non-contingent, and hence the one Being whose existence is necessary. Lost islands are no different to anything else in that respect. The contemporary philosopher Alvin Plantinga isolates the essential problem with Gaunilo’s objection when he writes:

No matter how great an island is, no matter how many Nubian dancing girls adorn it, there could always be a greater—one with twice as many, for example. The qualities that make for greatness in islands, amount and quality of coconuts, for example—most of these qualities have no intrinsic maximum. That is, there is no degree of productivity or number of palm trees (or dancing girls) such that it is impossible that an island display more of that quality. So the idea of a greatest possible island is an inconsistent or incoherent idea; it’s not possible that there be such a thing.⁷

The difference with God is that once we have accepted Anselm’s definition, we have bought into the concept of the intrinsic maximum of God’s attributes. Unlike the attributes of Gaunilo’s perfect island, God’s attributes can be no greater than they are, because they are not contingent on anything else.

Still, although Plantinga has shown that God and islands belong to two distinct classes, it is not certain that he has shown God to be in a class of his own. If, in place of Gaunilo’s most excellent island we substitute the concept of a most excellent unicorn, there is some doubt as to whether Plantinga’s no intrinsic maximum can be applied. An imaginary island may have no intrinsic maximum numerically in respect of palm trees, coconuts, and dancing girls, but what happens if we take one of a kind? How might a single unicorn be said to have no intrinsic maximum? Surely, in that case, there would come a point beyond which we could not conceive of anything more excellent.

Where does this leave us? It looks as though there is something suspect about Anselm’s argument, but it is not clear that Gaunilo has identified the problem. Still, it is not clear either that Plantinga has sufficiently demolished Gaunilo’s criticism of Anselm. Let us, therefore, pass on directly to some possible criticisms of Anselm’s arguments.

3. Objections to Anselm’s Ontological Arguments

Objections can be brought to bear on both versions of Anselm’s ontological argument:

i) Most obviously, in smuggling ‘God’ into the definition which comprises the initial premise, Anselm is presupposing the conclusion to which the premises are supposed to lead—a sleight of hand which is not always recognised. In a sound philosophical argument, the conclusion is supposed to follow logically from valid premises; but here, the conclusion is presupposed without argument.

ii) Again, there is some inconsistency in Anselm’s use of the term ‘necessary existence’. He begins with one kind of necessity—de dicto—and concludes with another kind—de re. Let us suppose I define a unicorn as a white, horse-like quadruped with a single horn. In so doing, I am operating merely at the level of definition and passing no judgement at all on whether or not unicorns exist in reality. In just the same manner, to describe God as ‘that-than-which-a-greater-cannot-be-thought’, which constitutes Anselm’s initial premise, is purely a definition which cannot help us to decide whether or not God really exists. Yet in the conclusion to Anselm’s argument, de dicto necessity has been mysteriously transformed into de re necessity. Yet surely, we can no more define God into existence than we can a unicorn.

This criticism is expanded by Brian Davies,⁸ who asks us to consider the statement:

A pixie is a little man with pointed ears;

Therefore, there actually exists (is) a pixie.

The logic of this is clearly absurd. It is simply not feasible to argue for the existence of pixies merely from the definition of what they are supposed to be. The reason this logic fails to work is that it confuses two different uses of the word ‘is’. In the first line of the above statement, we have the ‘is’ of definition, which tells us no more about the actual existence of pixies than the expression ‘a novel is a work of fiction’ tells us anything about a particular existing novel. But the second meaning of ‘is’ does not prove existence either. In the sentence ‘Martians exist’ (or ‘there is something called a Martian’), we are not describing or defining something as in the first case; we are simply saying that a Martian is what something is and passing no judgement on whether such a being exists. Philosophers distinguish between these two usages by referring to the ‘is’ of definition, and the ‘is’ of affirmative predication. The reason why the pixie logic is unsound is that the premise uses ‘is’ in the first sense, while the conclusion is based on ‘is’ in the second sense—which is a logical fallacy. But this is precisely where the ontological argument comes to grief. Its initial premise defines God, whereas the conclusion is based on the ‘exists’ of affirmative predication.

iii) Thomas Aquinas (1224-74)⁹ takes issue with the very concept of definition as applied to God, since such would presuppose that we can have a knowledge of God’s nature. He argues that God’s existence can be made evident to us only through the world of our senses and that God can be spoken of only by means of analogy. We cannot assume an a priori knowledge of God, in which case, we cannot formulate a definition either, because this would rest upon a knowledge that we simply do not possess.

iv) There are problems too with Anselm’s understanding of the perfection of God’s attributes. Brian Davies¹⁰ has questioned whether this can be true of every divine attribute. Could it be said, for instance, that God is infinitely loving and that nothing more loving could be imagined? When we consider the extent of human suffering in the world, natural as well as moral, surely we can conceive of a God whose absolute love would extend to eradicating natural evil, even if he could not