This argument is sound. I am not sure if premise (2) is true, though.
- If God exists, then all fundamental entities are intrinsically good.
- Pain qualia are not intrinsically good.
- So, pain qualia are not fundamental entities.
This argument is sound. I am not sure if premise (2) is true, though.
Here is a simple reductive account of right and wrong that now seems to me to be obviously correct:
Think, after all, how easily we move between saying that someone acted badly and that someone acted wrongly.
If (1) is a correct reduction, then we can reduce facts about right and wrong to facts about the value of particular kinds of things, namely actions.
By the way, if we accept (1), then consequentialism is equivalent to the following thesis:
But it is quite strange to think that there be an entity that is non-instrumentally good if and only if it is on balance best.
Even though nobody thinks Strong AI has been achieved, we attribute beliefs to computer systems and software:
Microsoft Word thinks that I mistyped that word.
Google knows where I’ve been shopping.
The attribution is communicatively useful and natural, but is not literal.
It seems to me, however, that the difference in kind between the beliefs of computers and the beliefs of persons is no greater than the difference in kind between the beliefs of groups and the beliefs of persons.
Given this, the attribution of beliefs to groups should also not be taken to be literal.
In a performative, a social fact is instituted by a statement that simultaneously announces it:
I hereby apply for the position.
I dub this ship the Star of the South.
I promise to pay you back tomorrow.
It seems we can distinguish two cases of institution of a social fact. Some social facts do not essentially require any party besides the instituter be apprised of the fact, and it is only the current contingent convention that those facts are instituted by an announcement. For instance, naming of persons is done by a public act in our society, but we could imagine (as happens in some piece of science fiction I vaguely recall) a society where people name themselves mentally, and then only reveal the name to their intimates. In that case, name facts already would obtain prior to their announcement, being instituted by a purely private mental act. In fact, in our society we handle the naming of animals in this way. You don’t need to tell anybody—not even Goldy—that your goldfish’s name is Goldy for the name to be that.
In the case of social facts that do not require anybody besides the instituter to be apprised of them, if we in fact institute them by means of a performative, that is a mere accident.
But some social facts of their very nature seem to require that some relevant party besides the instituter be apprised of the fact. For instance, it seems one cannot apply for a position without informing the organization in charge of the position, and one cannot promise without communicating this to the promisee. In those cases, it seems that the fact must be instituted by a performative.
That’s not quite right, though. The social fact of applying for a position can also be instituted by a pair of things: a performative instituting a conditional application and the truth of the antecedent of the conditional. “I hereby apply if no other applications come in by Wednesday night.” And in that case, the social fact can obtain without anyone other than God being apprised of it: even if no one yet knows that no other applications have come in by Wednesday night, it is a fact that one has applied. It seems that every social fact that is instituted by a performative announcing that very fact could be instituted by an appropriate conditional performative plus the obtaining of the antecedent.
But perhaps we can say something weaker. There seem to be social facts that logically require that they be partially instituted by someone’s apprising someone of something—but not necessary of the social fact in question. So while perhaps no particular performative is essential to instituting a particular social fact, some social facts may require some performative or other.
There is a discussion among political theorists on whether religious liberty should be taken as special, or just another aspect of some standard liberty like personal autonomy.
Here’s an interesting line of thought. If God exists, then religious liberty is extremely objectively important, indeed infinitely important. Now maybe a secular state should not presuppose that God exists. There are strong philosophical arguments on both sides, and while I think the ones on the side of theism are conclusive, that is a controversial claim. However, on the basis of the arguments, it seems that even a secular state should think that it is a very serious possibility that God exists, with a probability around 1/2. But if there is a probability around 1/2 that religious liberty is infinitely important, then the religious liberty is special.
One formulation of Schellenberg’s argument from hiddenness depends on the premise:
(4) If for any capable finite person S and time t, God is at t open to being in a personal relationship with S at t, then for any capable finite person S and time t, it is not the case that S is at t nonresistantly in a state of nonbelief in relation to the proposition that God exists.
Schellenberg argues that God is always open to personal relationships if he exists, and that there are people nonresistantly in a state of nonbelief to the proposition that God exists, and so God doesn’t exist.
I want to worry about a logical problem behind (4). Schellenberg attempts to derive (4) from a principle he calls Not Open that says, with some important provisos that won’t matter for this post, that “if a person A … is … in a state of nonbelief in relation to the proposition that B exists” but B could have gotten A to believe that B exists, “then it is not the case that B is … open … to having a personal relationship with A”.
It seems that Schellenberg gets (4) by substituting “God” for “B” in Not Open. But “the proposition that B exists” creates a hyperintensional context for “B”, and hence one cannot blithely substitute equals for equals, or even necessarily coextensive expressions, in Not Open.
Compare: If I have a personal relationship with Clark Kent, I then automatically have a personal relationship with Superman, even if I do not believe the proposition that Superman exists, because Superman and Clark Kent are in fact the same person. It is perhaps necessary for a personal relationship with Superman is that I believe of Superman that he exists, but I need not believe it of him under the description “Superman”.
So it seems to me that the only thing Schellenberg can get from Not Open is something like:
(4*) If for any capable finite person S and time t, God is at t open to being in a personal relationship with S at t, then for any capable finite person S and time t, it is not the case that S is at t nonresistantly in a state where he does not believe of God that he (or it) exists.
Now, to believe of x that it exists is to believe, for some y such that in fact y = x, that y exists.
But then all that’s needed to believe of God that he exists is to believe in the existence of something that is in fact coextensive with God. For instance, suppose an atheist believes that her mother is the being that loves her most. Then she presumably believes that the being that loves her most exists. In doing so, she believes of the being that loves her most that it exists. But in fact, assuming theism is true, the being that loves her most is God. So she believes of God that it (or he) exists.
At this point it is really hard to find non-controversial cases of the relevant kind of nonbelief that (4*) expresses. By “non-controversial”, I mean cases that do not presuppose the non-existence of God. For if God does in fact exist, he falls under many descriptions: “The being who loves me most”, “The existent being that Jean Vanier loves the most”, “The most powerful conscious being active on earth”, etc.
It is true that Schellenberg needs only one case. So even if it is true, on the assumption that God exists, that the typical atheist or agnostic believes of God that he exists, perhaps there are some people who don’t. But they will be hard to find—most atheists, I take it, think there is someone who loves them most (or loves them most in some particular respect), etc. I think the most plausible cases of examples are small children and the developmentally challenged. But those aren’t the cases Schellenberg’s argument focuses on, so I assume that’s not the line he would want to push.
The above shows that the doxastic prerequisite for a personal relationship with B is not just believing of B that it exists, since that’s too easy to get. What seems needed (at least if the whole doxastic line is to get off the ground—which I am not confident it does) is to believe of B that it exists and to believe it under a description sufficiently relevant to the relationship. For instance, suppose Alice falsely believes that her brother no longer exists, and suppose that not only does Alice’s brother still exist but he has been working out in secret and is now the fastest man alive. Alice believes that the fastest man alive exists, and mistakenly thinks he is Usain Bolt rather than her brother. So she does count as believing of her brother that he exists, but because she believes this under the description “the fastest man alive”, a description that she wrongly attaches to Bolt, her belief doesn’t help her have a relationship with her brother.
So probably (4*) should be revised to:
(4**) If for any capable finite person S and time t, God is at t open to being in a personal relationship with S at t, then for any capable finite person S and time t, it is not the case that S is at t nonresistantly in a state where he does not believe of God that he (or it) exists, under a description relevant to his personal relationship with God.
This doesn’t destroy the hiddenness argument. But it does make the hiddenness argument harder to defend, for one must find someone who does not believe in anything that would be coextensive with God if God exists under a description that would be relevant to a personal relationship with God. But there are, plausibly, many descriptions of God that would be so relevant.
A different move is to say that there can be descriptions D that in fact are descriptions precisely of x but some cases of believing that D exists are not cases of believing of x that it exists. Again, one will need to introduce some relevance criterion for the descriptions, though.
[Note added later: This was, of course, written before the revelations about Jean Vanier's abusiveness. I would certainly have chosen a different example if I were writing this post now.]Here’s a fun argument for dualism.
What is a part of the body is a matter of social convention.
Persons are explanatorily prior to social conventions.
So, probably, persons are not bodies.
I think (2) is undeniable. And (1) is a not uncommon view among people thinking about prostheses, implants, transplants and the like.
That said, I think (1) is just false.
If God exists, there are many evils that God doesn’t prevent, even though it seems that we would have been obligated to prevent them if we could.
A sceptical theist move is that God knows something about the situations that we don’t. For instance, it may seem to us that the evil is pointless, but God sees it as interwoven with greater goods.
An interesting response to this is that even if we knew about the greater goods, we would be obligated to prevent the evil. Say, Carl sees Alice about to torture Bob, and Carl somehow knows (maybe God told him) that one day Alice will repent of the evil in response to a beautiful offer of forgiveness from Bob. Then I am inclined to think Carl should still prevent Alice from torturing Bob, even if repentance and forgiveness are goods so great that it would have been better for both Alice and Bob if the torture happened.
Here is an interesting sceptical theist response to this response. Normally, we don’t know the future well enough to know that great goods would arise from our permitting an evil. Because of this, our moral obligations to prevent grave evils have a bias in them towards what is causally closer to us. Moreover, this bias in the obligations, although it is explained by the fact that normally we don’t know the future very well, is present even in the exceptional cases where we do know the future sufficiently well, as in the Carl, Alice and Bob case.
This move requires an ethical system where a moral rule that applies in all circumstances can be explained by its usefulness in normal circumstances. Rule utilitarianism is of course such an ethical system. Divine command theory is as well: God can be motivated to issue an exceptionless rule because of the fact that normally the rule is a good one and it might not be good for us to be trying to figure out whether a case at hand is an exception to the rule (this is something I learned from Steve Evans). And St. Thomas Aquinas in his argument against nonmarital sex holds that natural law is also like that (he argues that typically nonmarital sex is bad for the offspring, and concludes that it is wrong even in the exceptional cases where it’s not bad for the offspring, because, as he says, laws are made with regard to the typical case).
Historically, this approach tends to be used to derive or explain deontic prohibitions (e.g., Aquinas’ prohibition on nonmarital sex). But the move from typical beneficiality of a rule to its holding always does not require that the rule be a deontic prohibition. A rule that weights nearer causal consequences more heavily could just as easily be justified in such a way, even if the rule did not amount to a deontic prohibition.
Similarly, one might use typical facts about our relationships with those closer to us—that we know what is good for them better than for strangers, that they are more likely to accept our help, that the material benefits of our help enhance the relationship—to explain why helping those closer to us should be more heavily weighted in our moral calculus than helping strangers, even in those cases where the the typical facts do not obtain. Once again, this isn’t a deontic case.
One might even have such typical-case-justified rules in prudential reasoning (perhaps a bias towards the nearer future is not irrational after all) and maybe even in theoretical reasoning (perhaps we shouldn’t be perfect Bayesian agents after all, because that’s not in our nature, given that normally Bayesian reasoning is too hard for us).
We have a simple procedure for recognizing finite sequences. We start at the beginning and go through the sequence one item at a time (e.g., by scanning with our eyes). If we reach the end, we are confident the sequence was finite. This procedure can be relied on if and only if there are no supertasks—i.e., if and only if it is impossible to have an infinite sequence of tasks started and completed.
How do we know that there are no supertasks? Either empirically or a priori. To know it empirically, we would have to know that the various tasks we’ve completed were finite. But how would we know of any tasks we’ve completed that it’s finite if not by the above procedure?
So we have to know it a priori.
And the only story I know of how we could do that is by a priori cognizing some anti-infinity principle like Causal Finitism.
I am not sure how strong the above argument is. It is a little too close to standard sceptical worries for comfort.
It is common in our culture to see religion as a matter of faith. Indeed, religions are sometimes even called “faiths”.
Here is a reason why one should be cautious with conceptualizing things in this way. Faith is a specifically Christian concept, with Christianity being centrally conceptualized as a matter of faith in Jesus Christ. To think about all religions in terms of faith is to presuppose that the Christian understanding of what is central to Christianity yields a correct way of understanding the life of other religions.
Either Christianity is or is not basically true.
If Christianity is basically true, then its self-understanding in terms of faith is likely correct. However, the truth of Christianity does not give one good reason to think other religions, with the possible exception of Judaism, would be rightly understood in terms of the concept of faith.
If Christianity is not basically true, then we should be cautious even about its own self-characterization. Self-understanding is an epistemic achievement, and if Christianity is not basically true, then we should not take it for granted that faith has the central role it is claimed to have. And we should certainly not expect that the self-characterization of a religion that is not true should also apply to other religions.
Three is a finite number. How do we know this?
Here’s a proof that three is finite:
0 is finite. (Axiom)
For all n, if n is finite, then n + 1 is finite. (Axiom)
3=0+1+1+1. (Axiom)
So, 0+1 is finite. (By a and b)
So, 0+1+1 is finite. (By b and d)
So, 0+1+1+1 is finite. (By b and e)
So, 3 is finite. (By c and f)
Let’s assume we can answer the difficult question of how we know axioms (a) and (b), and allow that (c) is just true by definition.
I want to raise a different issue. To know that three is finite by means of the above argument, it seems we have to know that the argument is a proof.
One might think this is easy: a proof is a sequence of statements such that each non-axiomatic statement logically follows from the preceding ones, and it’s clear that (d)-(g) each follow from the previous by well-established rules of logic.
One could ask about how we know these rules of logic to be correct—but I won’t do that here. Instead, I want to note that it is false that every sequence of statements such that each non-axiomatic statement logically follows from the preceding ones is a proof. This is the case only for finite sequences of statements. The following infinite sequence of statements is not a proof, even though every statement follows from preceding ones: “…, so I am Napoleon, so I am Napoleon, so I am Napoleon.”
Very well, so to know that (a)-(g) is a proof, I need to know that (a)-(g) are only finitely many statements. OK, let’s count: (a)-(g) are seven statements. So it seems we have to know that seven is finite (or something just as hard to know) in order to use the proof to know that three is finite.
This, of course, would be paradoxical. For to use a proof analogous to (a)-(g) to show that seven is finite, we would need a proof of eleven steps, and so we would need to know that eleven is finite to know that the proof is a proof.
Maybe we can just see that seven is finite? But then we gain nothing by (a)-(g), since the knowledge-by-proof will depend on just seeing that seven is finite, and it would be simpler and more reliable just to directly see that three is finite.
It might be better to say that we can just see that the proof exhibited above, namely (a)-(g), is finite.
It seems that knowledge-by-proof in general depends on recognition of the finite. Or else on causal finitism.
Pluralists about ways of being say that there are multiple ways to be (e.g., substance and accident, divine being and finite being, the ten categories, or maybe even some indefinitely extendible list) and there is no such thing as being apart from being according to one of the ways of being. Each way of being comes with its own quantifiers, and there is no overarching quantifier.
A part of the theory is that everything that exists exists in a way of being. But it seems we cannot state this in the theory, because the "everything" seems to be a quantifier transcending the quantifiers over the particular ways of being. (Merricks, for instance, makes this criticism.)
I think there is a simple solution. The pluralist can concede that there are overarching unrestricted quantifiers ∀ and ∃, but they are not fundamental. They are, instead, defined in terms of more fundamental way-of-being-restricted quantifiers in the system:
∀xF(x) if and only if ∀BWoBb∀bxF(x)
∃xF(x) if and only if ∃BWoBb∃bxF(x).
The idea here is that for each way of being b, there are ∀b and ∃b quantifiers. But, the pluralist can say, one of the ways of being is being a way of being (BWoB). So, to use Merricks’ example, to say that there are no unicorns at all, one can just say that no way of being b is such that a unicorn b-exists.
Note that being a way of a being is itself a way of being, and hence BWoB itself BWoB-exists.
The claim that everything that exists exists in a way of being can now be put as follows:
Of course, (3) will be a theorem of the appropriate ways-of-being logic if we expand out "∀x" in accordance with (1). So (3) may seem trivial. But the objection of triviality seems exactly parallel to worrying that it is trivial on the JTB+ account of knowledge that if you know something, you believe it. Whether we have triviality depends on whether the account of generic existence or knowledge, respectively, is stipulative or meant to be a genuine account of a pre-theoretic notion. And nothing constrains the pluralist to making (1) and (2) be merely stipulative.
Suppose, however, your motivations for pluralism are theological: you don’t want to say that God and humans exist in the same way. You might then have the following further theological thought: Let G be a fundamental way of being that God is in. Then by transcendence, G has to be a category that is special to God, having only God in it. Moreover, by simplicity, G has to be God. Thus, the only way of being that God can be in is God. But this means there cannot be a fundamental category of ways of being that includes divine and non-divine ways of being.
However, note that even apart from theological considerations, the BWoB-quantifiers need not be fundamental. For instance, perhaps, among the ways of being there might be being an abstract object, and one could hold that ways of being are abstract objects. If so, then ∀BWoBbG(b) could be defined as ∀BAb(WoB(b)→G(b)), where BA is being abstract and WoB(x) says that x is a way of being.
Coming back to the theological considerations, one could suppose there is a fundamental category of being a finite way of being (BFWoB) and a fundamental category of being a divine way of being (BDWoB). By simplicity, BDWoB=God. And then we could define:
∀BWoBbF(b) if and only if ∀BDWoBbF(b) and ∀BFWoBbF(b).
∃BWoBbF(b) if and only if ∃BDWoBbF(b) or ∃BFWoBbF(b).
Note that we can rewrite ∀BDWoBbF(b) and ∃BDWoBbF(b) as just F(God).
I gave a Thomistic Institute talk on the Real Presence today. Here are the slides and here is the audio. I am particularly pleased with my argument against the purely symbolic view of the Eucharist.