There Is No ‘God Problem’: Part I

Peter Atterton, a professor of philosophy who teaches at San Diego State University, recently published an op-ed in The New York Times with the title, “A God Problem.”

The author contends that the traditional “Western,” i.e. Christian, conception of God as a being who is at once “perfect,” “all-powerful,” and “all-knowing” is in fact “not coherent.”

To put this another way, the idea of God is self-contradictory, as logically impossible as square circles, colorless red things, and married bachelors.

Professor Atterton’s position, as I will show, is no less mistaken now than when it was articulated by philosophers in centuries past.

Atterton launches a two-prong attack against the concept of God. First, he tries to show the (alleged) logical incompatibility between God’s omnipotence (His infinite power) and God’s moral goodness. Satisfied that he has achieved his first objective, Atterton then attempts to demonstrate the inconsistency between God’s omniscience (His infinite knowledge) and His benevolence.

In what we can call his “argument from omnipotence,” Atterton refers to an old philosophical dilemma dating back to the middle ages. The dilemma is framed in terms of a question:

If we answer that God, being omnipotent, can certainly create such a stone, then we actually deny God’s omnipotence, for there would now exist something that God cannot budge. However, if we respond that God could not create a stone that is too heavy for Him to move then we equally deny God’s unlimited power.

Atterton notes that Thomas Aquinas, unquestionably the most prominent of all medieval philosophers and a heavy-hitter in the history of philosophy in his own right, escaped the horns of this dilemma by clarifying the meaning of omnipotence:

God’s power is indeed unlimited, but this only means that God can do whatever is logically possible.

The idea of a stone that is both immovable and movable is no idea at all, for it is a contradiction in terms, and a self-contradiction is a logical impossibility. The ontological equivalent of a logical impossibility is nothing.

However, Atterton objects, God could have created a world devoid of evil. Presumably, a perfect being would have created such a world. That the actual world is ridden with pain and suffering, Atterton seems to imply, militates decisively against the idea of a perfect and omnipotent being.

This argument, it’s crucial to observe, is the perennial argument from what has become known as “the problem of evil.” From at least the time of St. Augustine—undoubtedly the most influential of all Christian philosophers and a thinker whose work continues to arrest the attention of contemporary academics, both Christian and non-Christian alike—Christian philosophers and theologians have accounted for the presence of evil by way of multiple “theodicies,” the most prominent of which is “the free will defense.”

Atterton addresses that version of the free will defense stated most recently by the contemporary philosopher of religion, Alvin Plantinga, in which the latter contends that it is impossible for God to grant human beings the ability to do moral good without at the same moment giving them the ability to commit acts of evil. Indeed, the very possibility of a moral act, whether virtuous or vicious, good or evil, presupposes free agency on the part of human actors.

So, in other words, a world in which human beings possess free will but are not free to misuse their wills and act wickedly is a world in which they are not free.

Interestingly, Atterton evidently believes that the free will defense is cogent as far as it goes. He just doesn’t think that it goes far enough, for while this most intuitively appealing of all theodicies may explain moral or human evil, it fails to explain what philosophers of religion call “natural evil,” i.e. natural catastrophes that result in the suffering and destruction of innocent human and animal life.

There are two counter-objections to his objection that Professor Atterton fails to consider.

First, considering that he means to show the incoherence of the Christian conception of God, Atterton should look at how Christian thinkers have responded to the phenomenon of natural suffering. Within what is by no means a negligible current of the Christian tradition, natural evil is proof that the world is, as we’re informed by the book of Genesis, broken—mired in “original sin”—as a consequence of, yes, Adam and Eve’s abuse of their free will.

If Atterton has problems with this doctrine of original sin—and legitimate questions have indeed been raised regarding it—then he should identify them. But the burden is on Atterton to state his case, something that he has not done.

Second, there are two other theodicies (both of which complement one another as well as complementing the free will defense) that have been devised to meet the argument from natural evil: the “greater goods” and “natural order” defenses.

The first refers to the goods of spiritual and moral maturity. According to this line of reasoning, God allows obstacles and hardships, i.e. natural suffering, so that by surmounting these trials and tribulations we may develop into the spiritually and morally mature beings that He wants for us to become.

The second refers to the stability or order in the world. Exercises of free will would be impossible in a world that was utterly unpredictable from moment to moment. If, for example, God intervened every time something unpleasant was about to happen so as to prevent it from occurring, then the world would be radically discontinuous with itself. Planning would be unthinkable, let alone impractical.

No, free will can exist only within a world with stability and, hence, predictability.

Atterton’s argument from omnipotence has failed to show that the concept of God is incoherent.

In my next essay, I will show that his argument from God’s infinite knowledge—the argument from God’s omniscience—fares no better.

So, in other words, a world in which human beings possess free will but are not free to misuse their wills and act wickedly is a world in which they are not free.

God could have,

1. made us (and angels) with no moral standard or sense or deprived us from the moral ability to respond to or choose good [morally insensible].

2. granted us free moral agency, but never have given us anything to choose between [negation of moral choices].

3. called man to make the Creator their ultimate object of spiritual affection and allegiance and source of security is what is right and what is best for man, versus finite created beings or things, and provided moral revelation and influences. But always have moved us to do good, and never have allowed us to choose evil (such as make believing in God and choosing good so utterly compelling — like God appearing daily and doing miracles on demand, and preventing any seeming evidence to the contrary so that no man could attempt excuses [effective negation of any freedom to choose]).

4. allowed us to do evil, but immediately reversed any effects [negation of moral consequences].

5. allowed us to do bad, but restricted us to a place where it would harm no one but ourselves [restriction of moral consequences].

6. allowed us to choose between good and evil, and to affect others by it, but not ultimately reward or punish us accordingly [negation of eternal consequences, positive or negative].

7. given us the ability to choose, and alternatives to chose from, and to face and overcome evil or be overcome by it, with the ability to effect others and things by our choices, and to exercise some reward or punishment in this life for morality, and ultimately reward or punishment all accordingly [pure justice].

8. restrained evil to some degree, while making the evil that man does to work out for the good of those who want good, and who thus love God, who is good.

9. in accordance with 8, the Creator could have chose to manifest Himself in the flesh, and by Him to provide man a means of escaping the ultimate retribution of Divine justice, and instead receive unmerited eternal favor, at God's own expense and credit, appropriated by a repentant obedient faith, in addition to the loss or gaining of certain rewards based on one's quality of work as a child of God. And eternally punish, to varying degrees, those whose response to God's revelation manifested they want evil, [justice maintained while mercy and grace given]. - https://www.conservapedia.com/index.php?title=Theodicy

Sachi asked her boss, "Ma'am, I don't get it. How could a loving God let something like that happen?"

"Mmm?"

"Such evil. Why does He allow it? I don't understand it."

"Hmm, you know that's a fair question." Nurse Kurosawa tapped her chin in thought. "Let me think for a moment how to answer that for you."

Sachi waited patiently while Kurosawa looked down while thinking. Then she looked up again. "Hmm, all right. Tell me, Sachi, I have a question for you."

"Yes?"

"Tell me, can God make a stone that is so heavy that He cannot lift it?"

Sachi was confused. "Huh? That is something a child would ask."

"Yes, but how would you answer that question if you were God?"

"I wouldn't. It's a silly question."

"But why is it a silly question?"

"Well, it just is. It's just.. a bogus question, that's all."

"You mean the question is invalid."

"Yes, exactly."

"But why is it invalid?"

"Uhm.." She thought some more. "Because it just is."

Kurosawa smiled. "Sachi, the proper response is to say that the question is invalid because it is ill-posed. The question is based on the assumption that God would ever desire to do something against His own will. The question stumbles on the double-meaning of the word 'can'. It conflates its two definitions: to allow (you may) and to want (desire to)."

"You mean kind of like the question, 'When did you stop beating your wife?' "

"Well, I suppose, sort of. But that question makes a different bogus assumption, that the person had been beating his wife, and the only question was to determine when he had stopped beating her. It's a cheap rhetorical trick."

"I see."

"So getting back to the original question.. now tell me, what do you think of your question now, 'Why does God allow evil?'"

Sachi thought a bit. "Hmm. I think what you are saying is that it is like the rock that God cannot lift, right? The question itself is ill-posed. Invalid."

"Yes. But why is it ill-posed?"

Sachi thought some more. "It is because the question stumbles over the meaning of the word 'allow', just like the first question question does over the word 'can'."

"You are correct. The question conflates the meaning that word, to permit (you may) versus to want (desire to). Now, in this case the second meaning is a bit more subtle than the rock question, because it turns on an implicit implication that God can do anything He desires, and so therefore He ought to be able to prevent evil and yet He does not."

"I see. So in other words, what you are saying is that God permits evil to exist, but He does not desire it. But then please tell me, ma'am, why did God create evil in the first place if He does not want it?"

"You are asking me why did God create evil?"

"Uh, yes."

Kurosawa looked a bit disappointed, for she saw that Sachi had just asked another ill-posed question without realizing it. She felt that Sachi should have been able to answer it herself. Kurosawa thought a moment about how to best explain it as simply as possible.

Kurosawa took a sheet of paper and turned it upside down, then she took out a ballpoint pen and carefully drew a round line on it. She then handed the piece of paper to Sachi. "What is that?"

Sachi looked at it on her desk. "You drew a circle."

"Yes, a circle. That is my answer to your question."

Sachi picked up the piece of paper and looked at it more closely. "This is a riddle." She tried the understand the point that Kurosawa was trying to make. Eventually she gave up. She had no idea what Kurosawa was driving at.

Kurosawa explained, "The answer to my little riddle, dear girl, is the circle itself. Its existence. Did God create that? I don't mean this particular one, I mean the idea, the concept, of a circle."

Sachi thought. "Uhm, well, not 'create' as such, no. The idea of a circle exists independently of any creator. It would exist even if there was no God at all."

"Right. A circle exists intrinsically. It has always been 'created', so to speak, not by God per se, but by the fundamental rules of basic mathematics. These basic laws exist independently of any creator. A circle is the natural result of constructing the set of all points on the Euclidean plane that are at a given distance r from a given point. The end result is always a circle."

"I see. So what you are implying is that evil works the same way, yes? That evil is the result of some deeper, more fundamental, rules."

"Am I? Keep going."

"And, uh, and so.." Sachi furrowed her brow. ".. and so there might be rules that are so deep that they are intrinsic to how everything works, right? So the 'circle of evil', so to speak, is intrinsic. It is intrinsic not in the sense of God creating our particular universe or world, but in how any such universe by necessity must operate. At least any interesting one. And so to prevent a circle from being created, Euclid could have stopped with simply a one-dimensional geometry instead of a three-dimensional one, say, a number line, like the ones we studied in elementary school. That would prevent anyone from creating an 'evil circle'. But such a geometry would be incredibly boring and uninteresting."

Kurosawa's eyes twinkled. "Very good, Sachi. You just said something profound."

"Uh, I did?"

Then Kurosawa appeared to change the subject. "Tell me, Sachi, why do predators exist?"

That thew Sachi off a bit. She wasn't sure where Kurosawa was going with her new question. She thought some more. "Uhm, predators exist because they are a fundamental part of how life works..?"

Kurosawa beamed at her, "Very good! Yes, predators do seem to be everywhere. Even amoebas are predators. Organisms would have never progressed beyond the level of pre-eukaryotic cells otherwise. Mitochondria would have never been captured, for example, and that is a necessary prerequisite to form cells that contain a distinct nucleus with internal organelles, without which life would have been incredibly dull and uninteresting. And so we have predators."

Sachi said, "And so.. on a human level it's the same thing, right? It's a fundamental side effect of our having free will. If humans could never prey on other humans, if evil was not possible, then we would lose all of our free will, our freedom to make moral choices. And the freedom to make those choices is important to Him, yes? It part of what makes us precious in His eyes.."

"Yes. A forced confession is useless, empty. Meaningless. Worse than useless, actually."

"Of course. Otherwise we would be nothing more than dolls, robots."

"Which is why free will is fundamental. But tell me, Sachi, why not just simply outlaw all evil acts? Why not just create, say, some kind of worldwide police force that would always intervene as soon as we tried to do anything wrong?"

"Uhm.. because then there would just be resentment added as well. The desire for rebellion would be universal, and be quite justified to boot."

"Okay. But now we are back to square one."

Sachi sighed, "Ugh. I never realized how tricky it is.."

Kurosawa smiled at her indulgently. "You're catching on. And yet we know that God's solution is elegant, that His creation is amazing and majestic. I mean, just look out the window at it all, at all of the wonderful and beautiful scenery that you see, all of it was constructed from just a few basic physical rules and forces that are actually quite simple to understand."

"And it is the same with us at the human level, right? That there are just a few basic rules of behavior? God has established those basic principles, like free will, which are needed in order for us to choose to love Him of our own volition. And so evil was also permitted, but not as flaw or defect, but rather as a necessary side effect of our ability to make choices."

"Yes. I think C.S. Lewis said it best. 'Because free will, though it makes evil possible, is also the only thing that makes possible any love or goodness or joy worth having. A world of automata - of creatures that worked like machines - would hardly be worth creating. The happiness which God designs for His higher creatures is the happiness of being freely, voluntarily united to Him and to each other in an ecstasy of love and delight compared with which the most rapturous love between a man and a woman on this earth is mere milk and water. And for that they've got to be free.' "

She went on. "When Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of Good and Evil, it gave them the awareness of the ability to make moral choices, which they then could make of their own free will."

Sachi leaned forward. "But ma'am, didn't they already have free will before the Fall? And if so, why couldn't they do evil acts before then?"

"They did have it, but they were also in perfect communion with God, so having evil thoughts didn't even occur to them. They didn't sin because it just wasn't even conceivable. Afterwards it was."

"But why not just have both? Why can't we have perfect communion with Him and the awareness to make moral choices, all at the same time?"

"Well, you can either have the knowledge and ability to make moral choices - and face the consequences - or you can have direct contact with God, and with it immortality, and never stray because it never even enters your mind. You cannot have both. Once the option is open you are going to slip up. It's inevitable, and then communion with Him becomes impossible. Well, that is, at least not until you introduce some kind of reconciliation mechanism."

"You mean Christ."

"Yes."

"So, evil is basically the inevitable byproduct of our having free will combined with our ability to make moral choices."

"More or less."

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"A fool says in his heart...