A nuanced compatibilism and the problem of heavenly freedom

The problem of heavenly freedom is the apparent tension between these two claims:

1. The blessed in heaven are free

2. The blessed in heaven cannot sin.

One solution is compatibilism, but as Pawl and Timpe note, this undercuts the Free Will Defense.

But there is another move. One can be a compatibilist and say that while one can have freedom without the ability to do otherwise, nonetheless freedom with the ability to do otherwise is better. If one accepts this version of compatibilism, one can affirm (1) and (2) while yet offering a Free Will Defense.

This, however, leads to an obvious riposte: If freedom with the ability to do otherwise is better, why don’t we have that kind of freedom in heaven? Isn’t heaven supposed to be the best state for us?

One can, however, add another nuance. There are some activities that it is good to have done at some point, but repetition significantly diminishes the value. It is of some value to have read The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. To re-read it, not so much. Or for a religious example, think of the Hajj. Suppose freedom with the ability to do otherwise is like that. Perhaps, then, it is valuable to have made the choice for God with the ability to do otherwise. But a repeat of that choice is of rather lesser value. So much lesser, that if on earth one has made the choice for God with the ability to do otherwise, in heaven the value of doing so again is outweighed by the value of making guaranteed righteous choices.

This is not too different from Pawl and Timpe’s preferred solution of allowing for derivative freedom in heaven. But there may be an advantage to the above solution. Pawl and Timpe’s solution doesn’t solve the problem of infants who go to heaven without being able to make a free choice in this life—they don’t seem to have derivative freedom. (One of my undergraduate students has ably pressed this problem.) The nuanced compatibilism I have suggested can help with that: the infants in heaven genuinely have freedom. Granted, their death has denied them one of the goods proper to earthly life—the good of choosing righteousness with the ability to do otherwise. But that they have lost something by their untimely death is indeed rather intuitive.

We might ask: But why wouldn’t God then give them a chance to make a decision with ability to choose otherwise after death? Wouldn’t that be better? In one respect, it would indeed be better: in the respect of choosing with the freedom to choose otherwise. But in another respect, it would be less good: in the respect of having the risk of choosing wrongly. These are incommensurable considerations, and God can reasonably follow either one.

Granted, this move weakens the force of the Free Will Defense. We can no longer say that it’s better all things considered for God to give us the kind of freedom that allows us to reject him. For while that’s a better kind of freedom, it comes with an incommensurable cost—the risk that we will reject him. However, we can still say that God can rightly choose to follow either of the incommensurable considerations. In our case, he has opted to give us the better freedom despite the risk; in the case where he has taken some infants to himself, he opted for the guarantee of freedom being rightly used.

I don’t endorse the above solution. But I think it’s possible.

My mother gave birth to me

1. My mother gave birth to me.

2. I have no memory connection, direct or indirect, to me at birth.

3. Therefore, the memory theory of identity is false.

Salvation of small children

It is tempting sometimes, when defending a position, to sweep certain cases under the rug, saying they are exceptional, or that they are troublesome for the competing positions. This may sometimes be an appropriate thing to do, but it is something a philosopher or theologian should not feel too good about. If my semantic theory is incompatible with, say, some obvious fact about the Liar Paradox, my semantic theory is, well, false. Sometimes one may hope that some small tweak will get one out of the problem, or that one can add an exception clause. But that is a dangerous thought, for it might be that the problem does in fact show that a completely different approach is needed.

Take the bearing that cases of small children, as well as of those the severely mentally retarded, have for accounts of salvation. Let us suppose that one theologizes and concludes that belief that Jesus is Lord is necessary for salvation. But then one is faced with the case of small children who, as far as we can tell, lack the conceptual resources to have the belief that Jesus is Lord. What can one do? Well, one could bite the bullet, and say that no small children are saved. One could mitigate this, then, by invoking a doctrine of limbo. But in fact nobody that I know makes this move. Or one could say that God can miraculously make it possible for a small child that he foreknows will soon die to have such a belief. I have heard one or two people be friendly towards this answer—I myself think it is not that implausible.

But the usual thing to say is just to make an exception of the case, and say that the belief that Jesus is Lord is necessary for salvation, except in the case of children and mentally retarded individuals. This is not a solution one should feel good about, though. First of all, as soon as one starts introducing some exception clauses, one should start worrying whether there aren't more. Secondly, one worries about continuity between exceptional cases and non-exceptional one (intellectual maturation seems to be a continuous process). But, perhaps most importantly, one should look for a unified theory that takes care of the exceptional cases.

There are, in fact, unified theories for this problem. Here is one. What is necessary for salvation is that one believe the Christian teaching to an extent proportionate to one's capacities. One thing that appeals to me about this formulation is that it does not simply let infants off the hook. It lets them off the hook, while increasing the requirements for those whose capacities are greater than average. More is asked of those to whom more is given.

And this unified theory, then, very naturally leads to further questions. What if someone's lack of an ability to believe is not due to an internal gap, but due to an external one? Does it, after all, matter whether one is incapable of belief due to internal causes, such as lack of intellectual capacity, or due to external causes, such as brainwashing or not having heard the gospel from someone who wasn't distorting it through living a life incompatible with it? Thus, a unified theory has the advantage of raising further questions, and leading perhaps to the solution of other difficulties.