The Philosophy of Religion First Books in Philosophy Series Editor: Keith Yandell, University of Wisconsin‐Madison Blackwell’s First Books in Philosophy series presents short, self‐contained volumes which together provide a comprehensive introduction to the field. Each volume covers the major issues relevant to the subject at hand (e.g. philosophy of religion, ethics, philosophy of literature), and gives an account of the most plausible attempts to deal with the problems at hand. Epistemology, Richard Fumerton The Philosophy of Religion, Edward R. Wierenga The Philosophy of Religion Edward R. Wierenga This edition first published 2016 © 2016 Edward R. Wierenga Registered Office John Wiley & Sons, Ltd, The Atrium, Southern Gate, Chichester, West Sussex, PO19 8SQ, UK Editorial Offices 350 Main Street, Malden, MA 02148‐5020, USA 9600 Garsington Road, Oxford, OX4 2DQ, UK The Atrium, Southern Gate, Chichester, West Sussex, PO19 8SQ, UK For details of our global editorial offices, for customer services, and for information about how to apply for permission to reuse the copyright material in this book please see our website at www.wiley.com/wiley‐blackwell. The right of Edward R. Wierenga to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, except as permitted by the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, without the prior permission of the publisher. 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Cover image: Chen Heng Kong / Shutterstock Set in 10/12.5pt Galliard by SPi Global, Pondicherry, India 1 2016 For Christina, Steve, and Kate Contents Prefaceviii 1 Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion 1 2 The Cosmological Argument for God’s Existence 10 3 The Ontological Argument 22 4 The Argument from Design 36 5 The Problem of Evil 50 6 Omnipotence 79 7 Omniscience, Foreknowledge, and Free Will 93 8 Divine Freedom and Moral Perfection 107 9 Miracles 119 10 The Evidentialist Objection: Clifford and James 131 11 The Evidentialist Objection and Foundationalism 143 References159 Index166 Preface This book is an introduction to many of the leading topics in the philosophy of religion, including arguments for and against God’s existence, the nature of several divine attributes, and the question of whether faith is rational in the absence of proof. It is intended for anyone who is interested in learning about issues and debates in the philosophy of religion. No previous exposure to philosophy is assumed, and more technical topics, such as how to evaluate arguments and how to think about metaphysical necessity and possibility, are introduced and explained before they are employed. Later chapters build on the methods introduced in earlier chapters, so readers with no prior study of philosophy are advised to start at the beginning. Although the book is intended to be introductory, I hope that there are enough original ideas or new ways of putting things to interest those already familiar with the field. I believe that this book would also be useful in a course in philosophy of religion, either as the sole text or as a companion to one of the standard collections of historical and contemporary readings; for example, Philosophy of Religion: An Anthology, 7th edition (Rea and Pojman, 2015) or Philosophy of Religion: Selected Readings, 5th edition (Peterson, Hasker, Reichenbach, and Basinger, 2014). I have benefited from several generations of students in my courses, whose questions and challenges have encouraged me to find clearer and more convincing ways of explaining things. I am grateful to Earl Conee and Richard Feldman for conversations on several of the topics of the book, especially, of course, on evidentialism in epistemology; and I am especially indebted to John G. Bennett and Todd Long, who generously provided insightful comments on a draft of the entire manuscript. The pervasive influence that the work of Alvin Plantinga has had on my philosophical thinking is displayed throughout the book, and I am happy to acknowledge his inspiration. Finally, I am grateful for a sabbatical leave for 2014–2015 from the University of Rochester, my academic home for the past 38 years, during which most of this book was written. 1 Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion What is Philosophy of Religion? Philosophy of religion is just thinking philosophically about topics that come up when the subject is religion. Thinking philosophically involves reflecting critically about a set of issues, with the aim of figuring out what to believe about those issues. Sometimes such reflection is simply about what we already believe. But open‐minded inquiry requires reflecting, as well, on what others have thought, and it can involve examining proposals that no one else has articulated. One aspect of this kind of critical reflection may be illustrated by an anecdote about the comic actor, W. C. Fields (1880–1946), famous for playing somewhat mean‐spirited and dissolute characters in what was apparently not casting against type. Near the end of his life, Fields was observed by a friend to be reading the Bible. Surprised, since Fields was not known to be at all religious, the friend asked, “What are you doing?” Field’s reply, delivered in his characteristic snarl was, “Lookin’ for loopholes, lookin’ for loopholes.” Philosophers look for loopholes. They take details seriously, they subject claims to close scrutiny, and they try to find what’s wrong with a given view. If the loophole they find is a (possibly made‐up) case in which some general claim fails to hold, they have discovered a counterexample. Finding fault isn’t the only thing philosophers do, however. For one thing, it’s often not worth the trouble to look for loopholes to a claim that’s too vague or too carelessly stated to tell exactly what it says. So another project in which philosophers engage is that of producing a careful and clear statement of the claim or thesis under consideration. This has the benefit of providing a clear target for scrutiny. But the very process of trying come up The Philosophy of Religion, First Edition. Edward R. Wierenga. © 2016 Edward R. Wierenga. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. 2 The Philosophy of Religion with a precise statement of a position often results in the discovery of complications or of needed distinctions that weren’t apparent prior to attempting to state the position carefully. What emerges in this case is a deeper understanding of the complexity of the issues involved. Another way in which philosophers try to introduce clarity before looking for loopholes is by carefully separating someone’s reasons for holding a position from the position or thesis itself. Often the best way to do this is by constructing an argument for the thesis in question, with the reasons then being seen as the premisses of this argument.1 We’ll look more closely at arguments later in this chapter. For now let’s simply observe that disentangling a thesis from reasons for it, or a conclusion from the premisses that are supposed to support it, gives us not only a clearer target to aim at but also opens up more possibilities for loopholes. As we’ll see more precisely below, reasons can fail to be good reasons either by not being true or by failing to provide the right kind of support for the claim for which they are advanced. If we’re serious about identifying a loophole in this kind of reasoning, we’ll want to be able to say accurately what it is. Finally, philosophers don’t only set up targets for demolition. When a loophole is found, a constructive project is to attempt to fill it or to figure out a way to avoid the problem it has exposed. Perhaps a modest revision will escape the objection, or perhaps it would be better to look in a different direction altogether. Of course, any new proposal should be subjected to the same scrutiny that uncovered a flaw in the original proposal, and perhaps the new proposal will be found to have defects of its own. The process of looking for loopholes can have the felicitous outcome of leading to an improved formulation of a theory or claim, but even if it doesn’t, it will lead to a greater understanding of what the issues are. We’ve discussed in very general terms what it is to think philosophically, but we haven’t looked at the second part of our subject: what is it to think philosophically about religion? One answer, in fact a pretty good answer, is that it is to employ the critical approach we have been discussing in the investigation of any topic that comes up when the subject is religion. As a matter of fact, philosophers of religion have found many such topics worth discussing. Some matters that we won’t examine in this book include prayer, ritual, the nature of a saint, and defining religion, to mention just a few. Instead, we’ll take a cue from the fact that the major religions in the west – Judaism, Christianity, and Islam – are all theistic religions, or varieties of theism. Richard Swinburne, the former Nolloth Professor of the Christian Religion at Oxford University, has described theism as the claim that there is someone “without a body (i.e. a spirit) who is eternal, free, able to do anything, knows everything, is perfectly good, is the proper object of human Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion 3 worship and obedience, the creator and sustainer of the universe” (Swinburne, 1993, p. 1). In other words, theism is the claim that there is a God, that God exists. Focusing our inquiry on this claim, so central to Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, will allow us to organize our critical thinking on issues suggested by it. For example, does God exist? Can it be proven that there is a God? Or, can it be proven that there is no God? What does it mean to say that someone is “able to do anything”? Is it possible for there to be an omnipotent being? What is involved in someone who “knows everything”? If God is omniscient, does his knowledge extend to the future? And, if it does, is that compatible with human beings acting freely? If God is “the creator and sustainer of the universe,” is he able to interfere with it? Are miracles possible, and might it be rational to think that miracles have occurred? Finally, if no proof can be found of God’s existence, could it nevertheless be reasonable to believe in his existence? Is it always wrong to believe something without good evidence in its favor? How are faith and reason related?2 Arguments and Proving God’s Existence Since our first topic is the attempt to prove that God exists, the remainder of this chapter will discuss some key concepts that will prove helpful in pursuing this topic. Although our discussion will be framed in terms of proving the existence of God, the concepts and ideas we’ll introduce here will also apply to the attempt to prove God’s nonexistence, as well as the attempt to establish anything on any of the topics we will take up in the course of this book. A proof of God’s existence might be thought to give a really good reason to believe that God exists. I suggested above that we could distinguish a thesis from reasons for believing that thesis by construing the reasons as the premisses of an argument that has that thesis as a conclusion. Accordingly, we could start with the idea that a proof of God’s existence is an argument that has the proposition that God exists as its conclusion, where an argument is simply a list of sentences or propositions, one of which is designated as the conclusion. Of course, not just any argument that has God exists as its conclusion would be a good argument. For starters, we should want the conclusion to follow from the premisses. It’s not easy to say exactly what “follows from” amounts to. Fortunately, there is a relatively clear concept that we can employ instead, namely, that of an argument being valid, where that term is defined as follows: (D1) An argument is valid = df it is not possible for the premisses of the argument to be true and the conclusion false.3 4 The Philosophy of Religion We can also introduce a term to describe an argument that is not valid, namely, (D2) An argument is invalid = df it is not valid. An argument will be invalid just in case it fails to satisfy the definition of being valid, that is, just in case it is possible for its premisses to be true and conclusion false. We can use the more precise term “valid” to give an account of the informal concept of a conclusion “following from” some premisses as follows: a conclusion follows from a set of premisses if and only if the argument with those premisses and that conclusion is valid. We can gain a better understanding of validity by considering some examples of arguments. Example 1: ∴ (1) Every human being is mortal. (2) Socrates is a human being. (3) Socrates is mortal. (1) (2) The symbol “∴” in front of line (3) abbreviates the word “therefore.” Thus, (3) is a conclusion, and the numbers in parentheses at the end of it indicate that it is a conclusion from the premisses, lines (1) and (2). This argument is valid. It satisfies the definition of validity given in (D1) because it is not possible for its premisses to be true and conclusion false. Here is another example: Example 2: ∴ (1) If you study hard, you will pass your philosophy course. (2) You study hard. (3) You will pass your philosophy course. (1) (2) This argument has a different form, but it, too, is valid. There is no way the premisses could be true but the conclusion false. If you think that you can imagine a scenario in which the conclusion is false but the premisses are true, for example, a scenario in which you study hard but sleep through the tests and so you don’t pass the course, that will invariably be a scenario in which at least one of the premisses is false. In the example I just gave, the first premiss would be false if you studied hard but didn’t pass. There simply is no way things could go according to which the premisses of this argument would be true and the conclusion would be false, but that is what would be required for this argument to fail to be valid. Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion 5 Here is a related example: Example 3: ∴ (1) (2) (3) If you study hard, you will pass your philosophy course. You don’t study hard. You won’t pass your philosophy course. (1) (2) This argument is invalid. There are many ways things could go according to which the premisses are true but the conclusion is false. Perhaps you don’t study hard but pass the course on native ability. That’s ­compatible with the truth of premiss (1), which only gives a sufficient condition for passing this course, leaving it open that there are other ways to pass. A sufficiently large bribe to the instructor might be one of those other ways. If it wasn’t obvious that Example 3 is invalid, there’s a useful strategy, one we’ll use repeatedly, for showing that an argument is invalid. (Strategy)  o show that an argument is invalid, find another argument T of the same form with true premisses and a false conclusion. To apply this strategy we should notice that Example 3 has the following form: ∴ If p then q. Not‐p. Not‐q. So we should look for another argument that has this form. If it actually has true premisses and a false conclusion, we know that it is possible for it to have true premisses and a false conclusion. In that case, it is invalid. But since the validity of an argument depends upon its form, any other argument of the same form is also invalid. Here is one: Example 4: ∴ (1) If it is warmer than 100 °F today, then it is warmer than −20 °F today. (2) It’s not warmer than 100 °F today. (3) It’s not warmer than −20 °F today.4 If we want a proof of God’s existence, it would be useful to find a valid argument for the conclusion that God exists. But that’s not all we would 6 The Philosophy of Religion need, for a valid argument could nevertheless have a false c­ onclusion. Consider: Example 5: ∴ (1) (2) (3) If donkeys can fly, then donkeys have wings. Donkeys can fly. Donkeys have wings. (1) (2) This argument is of the same form as Example 2, which we have seen to be valid; so this argument is valid, as well. But there is something egregiously wrong with it, because its conclusion is manifestly false. This does not show that there is a flaw in our concept of validity; after all, falsehoods have consequences, too, and we often draw conclusions from propositions without regard to whether they are true. But it shows that for an argument to be good, validity isn’t the whole story. It’s easy enough to see where the flaw lies, however: not only is the conclusion false, but the second premiss of the argument is false. So we should also recognize that a good argument has true premisses. The term for a valid argument with true premisses is “sound.” (D3) An argument is sound = df it is valid and all its premisses are true. As in the case of validity, we can also define the opposite of sound: (D4) An argument is unsound = df it is not sound. A little bit of thought will show that it follows from (D1) and (D3) that a sound argument has a true conclusion. So if we want to prove that God exists, or if we want to prove anything else, it’s tempting to think that what we need is a sound argument for that conclusion. Unfortunately, things aren’t that simple. Consider: Example 6: ∴ (1) (2) (3) Either nothing exists or God exists. Something exists. God exists. This argument is sound, but it fails as a proof.5 People to whom I have presented this argument usually agree that Example 6 is a bad proof, but they sometimes balk at agreeing that it’s a sound argument. It clearly is valid: the first premiss says that at least one of two propositions is true; the Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion 7 second premiss adds that it isn’t the first of them; so that leaves the second as the only option. Something exists, so (2) is true. Now I think that (1) is true, too, so I think that Example 6 is a sound argument that is a terrible proof. Of course, I only think that (1) is true because I also think that God exists. Perhaps you don’t share that view. Then consider this argument: Example 7: ∴ (1) (2) (3) Either nothing exists or God doesn’t exist. Something exists. God doesn’t exist. Both Example 6 and Example 7 are valid (they’re of the form logicians call disjunctive syllogism). They are also both terrible proofs. Now either God exists, or he does not. If God does exist, then Example 6 is a sound argument. If God doesn’t exist, then Example 7 is a sound argument. Either way, there is a sound argument that is a terrible proof, and that is the point I was trying to make. So if we want to find a proof of God’s existence, we should look for a valid argument with true premisses. But what else should we insist on? Can we specify anything further about what the premisses should be like? It would be too strong to require that the premisses be accepted by everyone. As we’ll see in the next chapter, Thomas Aquinas gives an argument for God’s existence that takes as a premiss Whatever begins to exist is caused to begin to exist by something already existing. This premiss shouldn’t be disallowed on the grounds that some people do not believe it. Some people have never even considered it and thus do not believe it; others who have considered it, but not carefully or with inadequate preparation, do not believe it. In any event, enough people believe so many obviously false propositions that it would set an impossibly high standard if arguments had to satisfy everyone.6 Perhaps the best we can do is to say that for an argument to be useful as a proof, its premisses ought to seem to be true to nearly any reasonable, educated ­ person who considers them carefully. Alternatively, a sound argument is good proof if it gives someone who understands it a reason to believe the conclusion that he or she would not have without understanding the a­ rgument. This remains less clear than is desirable, but perhaps we will be able to tell in particular cases whether an argument meets this standard. In any event, we should agree that whatever standards we set for arguments in favor of God’s existence must also apply to arguments against God’s e­ xistence and to the other arguments we will take up in later chapters. 8 The Philosophy of Religion One final point before we begin to look at some specific arguments for God’s existence. You might think that there simply are no good proofs in philosophy, so we can tell in advance that there is no good a­ rgument for God’s existence. But why should we think that there are no good proofs in philosophy? Surely there is no proof of that claim, because any such proof would be a good proof in philosophy; the existence of such a proof would refute its conclusion. So there seems to be no shortcut that avoids looking at the details of some attempted ­arguments for God’s existence, which is what we will begin to do in the next ­chapter. Notes 1 I follow Alonzo Church (1956), p. 2, in using the spelling “premiss” (rather than “premise”) for a proposition included in a logical argument in support of its conclusion. This makes it easy to distinguish the plural from the ­legal term, “premises,” which refers to a house or other building and its ­surrounding land. 2 I’ve just used some masculine pronouns to refer to God. I should emphasize that this is not because I think that God is male. Since God is, in Swinburne’s phrase, “without a body.” it follows that God has neither chromosomes nor physical sexual characteristics. So God is not male. For similar reasons, God is not female. It would make as much sense to use feminine pronouns as masculine, but that usage is not traditional. It would be a bad idea, however, to try to avoid the issue by using instead the ungendered pronoun “it”; for “it” is an impersonal pronoun, and God, as someone who knows and acts, is a person. 3 “=df” is to be read means by definition. A more careful way to define validity proceeds in two steps. First, an argument is valid just in case it has a valid form. Second, an argument form is valid just in case it is not possible for an argument of that form to have true premisses and a false conclusion. This more elaborate definition allows that an argument can have more than one form, it doesn’t automatically count an argument with a conclusion that can’t possibly be false as valid, and it makes explicit why we go on below to discuss argument forms. With apologies to purists, I’ll continue using the simpler formulation in the text. 4 The conclusion (3) is false where I’m writing in balmy Rochester, New York. 5 This example is from Mavrodes (1970), p. 22. 6 According to an article in the New York Times, “Scientific Savvy? In U.S., Not Much” (August 30, 2005), 20 percent of Americans believe that the sun revolves around the earth. Many people are similarly misinformed about the age of the earth or the birthplace of President Barack Obama. Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion 9 Suggested Reading Stephen T. Davis, God, Reason, and Theistic Proofs, chapter 1, “What Is a Theistic Proof?” (Grand Rapids, MI.: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1997). Helen De Cruz, “The Enduring Appeal of Natural Theological Arguments,” Philosophy Compass 9/2 (2014): 145–153. George Mavrodes, Belief in God (New York: Random House, 1970). Richard Swinburne, Is There a God?, chapter 1, “God” (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1996). 2 The Cosmological Argument for God’s Existence Insights from the Past We said in the last chapter that we would organize our investigation of the philosophy of religion by focusing on a claim central to the major western theistic religions, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, namely, that there is a God who is all‐powerful, all‐knowing, perfectly good, and who is the creator and sustainer of the universe. We will begin by asking whether this claim can be shown to be true. Later we’ll ask whether it can be shown to be false. Finally, we’ll take a closer look at the properties attributed to God by theism. One respect in which philosophy differs from many other disciplines is the interest it takes in its figures of the past. While many of Newton’s physical theories have been superseded by the theories of relativity and quantum mechanics, and no physician today would consult, say, the work of Dr Benjamin Rush (one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence) for advice about bloodletting, philosophers look to the work of earlier figures for insight and inspiration. Not only have many of the topics that historical philosophers discussed remained of real interest, but the problems they identified and the solutions they advanced often provide a good starting place for working through the issues ourselves. This phenomenon is perhaps nowhere more pervasive than in philosophy of religion, where the great philosophers and theologians of late antiquity and the Middle Ages explicitly aimed at providing a philosophical account of topics that we recognize as central to philosophy of religion. Thus, such classical theists as Augustine of Hippo (354–430 ce), Anselm of Canterbury (1033–1109), and Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) in the Christian ­tradition; Moses Maimonides (1135–1204) in the Jewish tradition; and The Philosophy of Religion, First Edition. Edward R. Wierenga. © 2016 Edward R. Wierenga. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. The Cosmological Argument for God’s Existence 11 Ibn Sı̄nā, or Avicenna, to use his Latinized name, (c. 980–1037) in the Islamic tradition, wrote with sophistication on the nature of God and on arguments for his existence. Subsequent philosophers of the period known as Modern Philosophy, whether they intended to support or refute theism, took a real interest in philosophical analysis of topics in religion and did much to advance the discussion. I’ll mention just three, whom we’ll have occasion to cite later: the French rationalist René Descartes (1596–1650), the Scottish empiricist David Hume (1711–1776), and the German philosopher Immanuel Kant (1724–1804). Hume’s posthumously published Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion (Hume, 1947 [1779]), in particular, set the agenda for much of philosophy of religion for the following two centuries. Our approach to issues in the philosophy of religion will be to begin by looking at what earlier philosophers said. Then we’ll use that as a springboard for our own attempt to think through the issues. Arguments for God’s Existence There are many ways people have attempted to argue for God’s existence. Some arguments appeal to religious experience, perhaps an intense mystical experience or an overwhelming response to a scene of beauty or an act of kindness. Some philosophers have given a “moral argument,” claiming that there could be no moral laws without a supreme law‐giver. But we will focus on examples of the big three arguments, the cosmological, the ontological, and the teleological, to use the terms that Kant invented. Cosmological arguments take the general form of appealing to the existence of the cosmos, or the world, or things existing in the world, and arguing that these things would exist only if there was a creator or a first cause. The ontological argument holds that from the very idea or concept of God as a perfect being or as that than which nothing greater can be conceived, in Anselm’s famous phrase, it simply follows directly that God exists. Teleological arguments, or arguments from design, hold that the evident patterns of design in the universe provide convincing evidence of God’s existence. A Cosmological Argument: Aquinas’ Third Way In his Summa Theologiae (Ia, 2, 3) Thomas Aquinas (1948 [1485]) said that there are five ways of proving God’s existence. If a cosmological argument for God’s existence is one that reasons from a premiss that there is 12 The Philosophy of Religion something existing now to the conclusion that there is a God, then several of Aquinas’ “Five Ways” are cosmological arguments. One way begins from the premiss that there are things that are changing or in motion to deduce that there is an unmoved First Mover. Another begins with the premiss that there are events which are caused by other events to argue for the conclusion that there is a First Cause. We’ll take a closer look at Aquinas’ Third Way, which attempts to establish that there is a being of a very special sort, one that is necessary or that exists necessarily. Let’s start by looking at what Aquinas says: The third way is taken from possibility and necessity, and runs thus. We find in nature things that are possible to be and not to be, since they are found to be generated, and to be corrupted, and consequently, it is possible for them to be and not to be. But it impossible for these always to exist, for that which can not‐be at some time is not. Therefore, if everything can not‐be, then at one time there was nothing in existence. Now if this were true, even now there would be nothing in existence, because that which does not ­exist begins to exist only through something already existing. Therefore, if at one time nothing was in existence, it would have been impossible for anything to have begun to exist; and thus even now nothing would be in existence – which is absurd. Therefore, not all beings are merely possible, but there must exist something the existence of which is necessary. But every necessary being either has its necessity caused by another, or not. Now it is impossible to go to infinity in necessary things which have their necessity caused by another, as has been already proved in regard to efficient causes. Therefore we cannot but admit the existence of some being having of itself its own necessity, and not receiving it from another, but rather causing in others their necessity. This all men speak of as God. (Aquinas, 1948 [1485], Summa Theologiae, Ia, 2, 3) Aquinas begins his argument by holding that “we find in nature things that are possible to be and not to be, since they are found to be generated, and to be corrupted, and consequently, it is possible for them to be and not to be.” Let’s call these things that are “possible to be and not to be” contingent beings. We’ll need to look more closely below at the concepts of possibility and necessity. For now let’s simply note that the second phrase in Aquinas’ sentence begins with the word “since.” That’s often a clue that what comes next is a reason for what was just asserted. In this case, Aquinas’ reason for holding that there are some contingent beings is that there are things that are generated and corrupted. He means, I believe, that we are aware of things that come into existence and of things that go out of existence. Anything that comes into existence really does exist and The Cosmological Argument for God’s Existence 13 so it is such that it is possible that it exists, and, of course, before such a thing begins to exist it does not exist, and so it is possible that it not exist. Similarly, things that go out of existence really do exist before they go out of existence, and they fail to exist later; they also possibly exist and possibly do not exist. What sort of things are these? Well, you and I came into existence, so we possibly exist and possibly do not exist. There is no doubt about whether we do exist, but the fact that we came into existence shows that there are ways things could go according to which we exist and ways they could go according to which we do not exist. The earth and everything on it came into existence, so all these things are contingent, too. And some things that used to exist no longer do – they were “corrupted” – like the last dodo in the late 17th century. So that gives us another example of a contingent being. Let’s take the first premiss of Aquinas’s argument, then, as the claim (1) There are some contingent beings, understanding it and Aquinas’s reason in support of it along the lines we have just been discussing. Aquinas next adds that anything that “can not‐be at some time is not.” He thus endorses the claim that (2) For every contingent being, there is a time when it does not exist. What Aquinas says next is a little puzzling, however. He seems to deduce that “if everything can not‐be, then at one time there was nothing in existence.” But how does this follow? Presumably Aquinas makes an inference from (2), deducing that (3) There is a time at which every contingent being does not exist. From that he derives his claim that (4) If all beings are contingent, then at one time nothing existed. He then adds, “Now if this were true [that at one time nothing existed], even now there would be nothing in existence, because that which does not exist begins to exist only through something already existing. Therefore, if at one time nothing was in existence, it would have been impossible for anything to have begun to exist; and thus even now nothing would be in existence – which 14 The Philosophy of Religion is absurd.” In this passage he asserts an additional premiss (following the word “because” – another hint that an author is giving a reason): (5) Whatever begins to exist is caused to begin to exist by something already existing. He then deduces (6) If at one time nothing existed, nothing exists now, and (7) If all beings are contingent, nothing exists now. Aquinas thinks that is absurd to hold that nothing exists now, and in fact the first premiss of his argument asserts that some contingent beings exist (now). So he concludes that (8) Not all beings are contingent. And from this he deduces that (9) There is at least one necessary being. It is clear how the rest of the argument is supposed to go, even if some of the ideas are not entirely clear: (10) Every necessary being either has its necessity caused by another, or it has its necessity of itself. (11) There cannot be an infinite series of necessary beings each having its necessity caused by another. So, (12) There is a necessary being having of itself its own necessity (and this is God). Putting these various claims together, we can formulate Aquinas’ Third Way as follows: ∴ (1) There are some contingent beings. (premiss) (2) For every contingent being, there is a time when it does not exist. (premiss) (3) There is a time at which every contingent being does not exist. (2) The Cosmological Argument for God’s Existence 15 ∴   (4) If all beings are contingent, then at one time nothing existed. (3)   (5) Whatever begins to exist is caused to begin to exist by something already existing. (premiss) ∴   (6) If at one time nothing existed, nothing exists now. (5) ∴   (7) If all beings are contingent, nothing exists now. (4) (6) ∴   (8) Not all beings are contingent. (1) (7) ∴   (9) There is at least one necessary being. (8) (10) Every necessary being either has its necessity caused by another, or it has its necessity of itself. (premiss) (11) There cannot be an infinite series of necessary beings each having its necessity caused by another. (premiss) ∴ (12)  There is a necessary being having of itself its own necessity (and this is God). (9) (10) (11) To evaluate this argument we will have two sorts of questions to consider: do we have reason to think that the various propositions labeled as premisses are true?, and do the propositions that are deduced from those premisses really follow from them, that is, are the inferences in the argument valid? Before we can make progress on this project, however, we should try to make sure that we understand some of the claims Aquinas makes. Since the concepts of possibility and necessity figure so prominently in the argument, we will begin by examining those concepts. Possibility and Necessity: A Look at ‘Modal’ Concepts Aquinas begins with the idea of a thing that is “possible to be” and also “possible not to‐be.” We can think of this as something that possibly exists and that possibly doesn’t exist. But we have to be careful about how to understand that. When Aquinas talks about things that possibly exist and that possibly do not exist, he’s not talking about things whose existence is uncertain. He doesn’t mean to be talking about things like the Abominable Snowman or the Loch Ness Monster, whose existence is disputed. Someone who was uncertain about whether the Loch Ness Monster exists might say that it is possible that it exists and possible that it doesn’t exist, intending thereby to express epistemic possibility. This means, roughly, that the existence of the Loch Ness Monster and its nonexistence are each compatible with what the person knows, or, perhaps, with what that person’s evidence supports. I interpret Aquinas instead as being concerned with metaphysical possibility. One reason for thinking this is that Aquinas cites, as examples of the kinds of things he has in mind, things for which there is no question as to whether they exist or fail to exist – these are 16 The Philosophy of Religion things we “find in nature.” A second reason is that his appeal to things that are generated or are corrupted – that come into existence or that go out of existence – can naturally, as we saw above, be understood as specifying a way things can go. If a thing begins to exist, then there is a way things could go according to which it does not exist – the way things were before it began to exist – and there is a way things could go according to which it does exist – the way things went in which it does exist. Such ways things could go are possibilities. Here are some principles to make this idea a little more formal: (a) It is possible that a thing x exists just in case there is a way things could go according to which, if they went that way, x would exist. (b) It is possible that a thing x does not exist just in case there is a way things could go according to which, if they went that way, x would not exist. These principles have to do with possible existence, which is the topic Aquinas begins with. But they can be adapted to apply to metaphysical possibility more generally or, as we’ll state it, to possible truth: (c) It is possible that a proposition p is true (or p is possibly true) just in case there is a way things could go according to which, if they went that way, p would be true. (d) It is possible that a proposition p is false (or p is possibly false) just in case there is a way things could go according to which, if they went that way, p would be false. We have already employed this concept of possibility when, in the last chapter, we defined a valid argument as one in which it is not possible for the premisses of the argument to be true and the conclusion false. If an argument is valid, there is no way things could go according to which the premisses of the argument would be true but the conclusion false. Propositions that are possibly true report ways things could be. Every proposition that is in fact true is thereby possibly true, because the way things are is a way they can be. But some propositions that are false could have been true instead. The sun has more than 10 planets orbiting it is false, but it could have been true. The Chicago Cubs will win the World Series in my lifetime is false (or so I think), but even it could have been true. In fact, many completely preposterous propositions are possibly true. But some propositions could not have been true – there is no way things could go according to which such propositions as some triangles have four sides or there is a married bachelor are true. Such propositions are impossible. Other The Cosmological Argument for God’s Existence 17 propositions would be true no matter how things go. All triangles have three sides, no bachelor is married, and if p is true and q is true then the conjunction of p & q is true are all propositions that have to be true. They are necessarily true. We can add to our list of principles: (e) It is necessary that a proposition p is true (or p is necessarily true) just in case every way things could go is a way according to which p would be true. (f) It is impossible that a proposition p is true (or p is impossible) just in case there is no way things could go according to which, if they went that way, p would be true. It is a consequence of (c) and (e) that if a proposition is necessary then it is possible, because a proposition that is true in every way things could go is true in some way things could go.1 We defined a possible being in principle (a) above as a being for which there is a way things could go according to which it would exist. By parallel reasoning, we could explain a necessary being as follows: (g) It is necessary that a thing x exists just in case every way things could go is a way according to which x would exist. Back to the Third Way Our digression into modal matters puts us in a position to appreciate an inference Aquinas makes in the Third Way. From (8) Not all beings are contingent he deduces that (9) There is at least one necessary being. If (8) is true, there is at least one being that is non‐contingent. A contingent being is one such that (a) it is possible that it exists and also (b) possible that it does not exist. A being that is not contingent would therefore fail to satisfy one of the other of these two conditions (or both – but that isn’t possible). Either it is not possible that it exists or not possible that it does not exist. But there couldn’t be a being of the first sort, a being that doesn’t possibly exist. So if there is something that is not a contingent being, it is a being such that 18 The Philosophy of Religion it is not possible that it not exist. But that is just to say that it exists no matter how things go; in other words, it is a necessary being. So our interpretation of contingent, possible, and necessary beings has the virtue of vindicating a crucial inference in the argument, namely, the step from (8) to (9). A Question Remains Unfortunately, what we have said so far does not help us understand another key part of the argument. Aquinas distinguishes between necessary beings that have their necessity “caused by another” and necessary beings that have their necessity of themselves. But what could it mean for a necessary being to have its necessity caused by another? If a being really is necessary, then, as we have understood this idea, such a being would exist no matter how things go. In that case, however, it is hard to see how there is anything a second being could do that would make the first being necessary, because whatever the second being did or failed to do, the first being would still exist. If it is necessary, it exists no matter what. Perhaps this is not a serious problem for the argument, however. If there couldn’t be any necessary beings having their necessity caused by another, Aquinas’ claim that (10) Every necessary being either has its necessity caused by another, or it has its necessity of itself might still be true – if every necessary being has its necessity of itself, then, trivially, it either has it of itself or caused by another. And if there couldn’t be any necessary beings having their necessity caused by another, a fortiori, there couldn’t be an infinite series of them. In that case (11) There cannot be an infinite series of necessary beings each having its necessity caused by another would be true, and it would still follow from (9), (10), and (11) that (12) There is a necessary being having of itself its own necessity.2 A More Substantial Objection If the conclusion of the argument is simply that there is a necessary being, even with the additional stipulation that it has its necessity of itself, why does Aquinas think that this is what everyone calls God? Or, instead of The Cosmological Argument for God’s Existence 19 trying to answer this historical question, let us ask why we should think that a necessary being is God. Notice first that the argument does not purport to show that there is a unique or only one necessary being – what follows from not all beings are contingent is that at least one being is necessary, which is compatible with there being many necessary beings. And, in fact, if a necessary being is one that exists in every set of circumstances – exists no matter which way things go – then there are indeed many such beings. The proposition that there are human beings is true in many of the ways things could go, and it is false in all the rest of the ways things could go. So, no matter what things are like, that proposition is either true or false, and in either case it would exist. Similarly, the property of being a human being is had or instantiated by human beings just in case there are human beings, and it is not instantiated, otherwise. However things go, therefore, it is either instantiated or not, and in either case it would exist. Finally, such mathematical objects as natural numbers exist necessarily, for no matter how things go, the number 12 is larger than the number five, and it is divisible by four. And it couldn’t be larger than another number or divisible by another number without existing itself. Such abstract objects as propositions, properties, or numbers, while they may exist necessarily, do not have some of the other impressive properties a divine being should have – they are not omnipotent or omniscient or able to do things, for example. For all we have seen so far, Aquinas’ Third Way might be a sound argument, but it does not seem to be an argument for the existence of God.3 Some Compelling Objections We should look a little more closely at the initial steps in the argument. Recall that the second premiss is (2) For every contingent being, there is a time when it does not exist. Should we accept this premiss? It is not obviously or self‐evidently true. As we have seen, a contingent being is a being that does not have to exist – things could go or could have gone in a way such that it doesn’t exist. But does it follow that for any such being there is a time when in fact it does not exist? Couldn’t a contingent being be everlasting, existing at every time, while nevertheless being such that it might not have existed? At any rate, I see nothing incoherent in the idea of a contingent being that never fails to exist. Someone who shares this view might well find (2) dubious. 20 The Philosophy of Religion Having said this, I should acknowledge that I think that (2) is true. I think it is true because I think that God created contingent beings and before he did none of them existed. So I think it is true that for every contingent being there is a time at which it does not exist, namely any time before God created. Of course, it would be wildly inappropriate in the present context to defend (2) by appealing to God’s creative activity. If the existence of God is what is to be shown, it would not be a good way to attempt to do this by appealing to the prior assumption that he is the Creator. We should, accordingly, ­concede at a minimum that premiss (2) stands in need of additional support and that, in any event, for many people it will not seem compelling. Finally, there is a decisive objection to the validity of the argument. Aquinas appears to infer from (2) that (3) There is a time at which every contingent being does not exist. This inference is invalid. We saw in the last chapter that a useful strategy to show that an argument is invalid is to find another argument of the same form with true premisses and a false conclusion. Given that the validity of an argument depends upon its logical form, this is a way of showing how it is possible for an argument to have true premisses and a false conclusion by finding an instance in which it does. Here is such a case: ∴ (2’) (3’) For every road, there is a destination to which that road leads. There is a destination to which every road leads. (2’)4 Presumably every road goes somewhere, if only to a dead‐end, but it is not true that there is some place to which every road goes. Logicians call such expression as “for every” and “there is” quantifiers. What this example shows is that the order of quantifiers matters; they cannot always be switched in a sentence and preserve truth. I think that this version of the cosmological argument is unsuccessful. There’s a reason, in the first place, to question whether it even is an argument for God’s existence; it has at least one disputable premiss, (2); and a crucial inference, that of (3) from (2) is invalid. In the next chapter we will look at another attempt to prove that God exists. Notes 1 The branch of logic that investigates the logical properties of possibility and necessity is called modal logic. For some additional details about these ideas and about understanding them by reference to possible worlds, see the discussion of A Modal Interlude: Possible Worlds in Chapter 5. The Cosmological Argument for God’s Existence 21 2 Alternatively, given the triviality of these extra steps, the argument could simply end with (9). Interestingly, that is how Kant characterized the cosmological argument: “If we admit something as existing, no matter what this something may be, we must also admit that there is something which exists necessarily. For the contingent exists only under the condition of some other contingent ­existence as its cause and from this again we must infer yet another cause, until we are brought to a cause which is not contingent, and which is therefore ­unconditionally necessary. This is the argument upon which reason bases its advance to the primordial being” (Kant, 1929, Critique of Pure Reason, book II, chapter 3, section 3). 3 Compare Kant’s claim, “…it by no means follows that the concept of a limited being which does not have the highest reality is for that reason incompatible with absolute necessity,” and later, “we are entirely free to hold that any limited beings whatsoever, notwithstanding their being limited, may also be unconditionally necessary.…” Kant’s conclusion, however, is stronger than the one I have been arguing for, since he holds that “the argument has failed to give us the least concept of the properties of a necessary being, and indeed is utterly ineffective” (Kant, 1929, Critique of Pure Reason, book II, chapter 3, section 3). 4 This example is from Kenny in The Five Ways (1980), p. 56. Suggested Reading Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, in Introduction to St. Thomas Aquinas, ed., Anton Pegis (New York: Modern Library, 1948) (Ia, q. 1–2). Anthony Kenny, The Five Ways: Aquinas’ Proofs of God’s Existence, chapter 4 (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1969; reprinted South Bend, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1980). Alvin Plantinga, God, Freedom, and Evil (New York: Harper and Row, 1974; reprinted Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1977), pp. 75–80. 3 The Ontological Argument One of the most puzzling and intriguing arguments for God’s existence was first formulated in the 11th century by Anselm of Canterbury, the abbot of a monastery in Normandy and later Archbishop of Canterbury. Anselm’s ­ontological argument has fascinated philosophers ever since it was first propounded. In fact, from the very beginning Anselm’s manuscript was circulated with a set of objections by one of his contemporaries, a monk named Gaunilo, together with Anselm’s replies. A remarkable number of subsequent philosophers have had something to say about the argument. Thomas Aquinas, for example, offered an objection to it, and René Descartes gave his own version, although one that was very much in the spirit of Anselm. This pattern of objection, reply, a new version, and a new objection continued until Immanuel Kant claimed to refute all v­ ersions, and many philosophers believed him. In 1960, however, the world of professional philosophers was shocked when Norman Malcolm published a paper defending a version of the argument in a highly respected academic journal (Malcolm, 1960). Malcolm’s essay ushered in a new era of interest in the argument, one in which philosophers attempted to put recent developments in logic and in other areas of philosophy to use in understanding the argument.1 Anselm’s Statement of the Argument Anselm’s argument is found in chapter 2 of his work Proslogion, embedded in a prayer: Well then, Lord, You who give understanding to faith, grant me that I may understand, as much as You see fit, that You exist as we believe You to exist, The Philosophy of Religion, First Edition. Edward R. Wierenga. © 2016 Edward R. Wierenga. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. The Ontological Argument 23 and that You are what we believe You to be. Now we believe that You are something than which nothing greater 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’” (Psalm 13:1, 52:1)? 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. For it is one thing for an object to exist in the mind, and another to understand that an ­object actually exists. Thus, when a painter plans beforehand what he is going to execute, he has [the picture] in his understanding, but he does not yet think that it actually exists, because he has not yet executed it. However, when he has actually painted it, then he both has it in his mind and understands that it exists because he has now made it. 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. (Anselm of Canterbury, 1998, pp. 87–88) Preliminaries The prayer with which Anselm begins asks God to give him understanding of what he believes by faith. In fact the phrase fides quaerens intellectum, “faith seeking understanding,” was Anselm’s original title for the work and serves as its motto. Anselm thus begins with faith in God, but he aims at deepening his understanding of what he already believes by showing that it follows from the very nature of God that he exists. The first preliminary point we need to note, then, is that Anselm offers a definition or an account of that nature: God is that “than‐which‐nothing‐greater‐can‐be‐thought.” In later chapters of the Proslogion Anselm expands on what he means by greatness, giving the formula that “God is whatever it is better to be than not” and then concluding that this includes “existing through Himself alone,” making other things from nothing, being just, being happy, and being perceptive, omnipotent, and merciful, among other things. A second preliminary point is that Anselm introduces a distinction between existing in the mind or the understanding and existing in reality. We can think of this as a distinction between existing in thought and really 24 The Philosophy of Religion existing. In Anselm’s example, a painting that a painter plans out in advance and then later executes exists initially only in thought and then later, after the painter has done the work, exists in reality as well. Finally, part of Anselm’s genius, I think, was his development of the argument as a reductio ad absurdum.2 This is a form of argument, literally “reduction to absurdity,” that proceeds by assuming the denial of what is to be shown, (optionally, but typically) adding some additional premisses, and then deducing a contradiction. If an assumption and some premisses together entail a contradiction, then, if the premisses are true, it follows that the assumption is the culprit. So if an initial assumption made for the sake of argument is shown in this way to be false, its denial, the proposition that was to be demonstrated, is true. A Statement of the Argument I said above that Anselm’s argument was embedded in the quoted passage, but it is open to interpretation exactly where the argument occurs and exactly what its premisses are.3 I think that the clause “surely that than which a greater cannot be thought cannot exist only in the understanding” states the conclusion of the argument and that the following sentences, beginning with the word “for,” give the reasons or premisses in support of that conclusion. If this is right, we can formulate the argument as follows, where “B” is a name whose reference is fixed by the description “the being than which a greater cannot be conceived”:4 ∴ ∴ ∴ (1) B does not exist. (assumption for reductio ad absurdum) (2) For all x, if x does not exist, then it is conceivable that there is something greater than x. (premiss) (3) If B does not exist, then it is conceivable that there is a being greater than B. (2), universal instantiation (4) It is conceivable that there is something greater than B. (1) (3) (5) It is not conceivable that there is something greater than B. (premiss) (6) B exists. (1)–(5), reductio ad absurdum Some initial comments: Anselm does not explicitly state premiss (2). He merely says that if a thing “exists only in the understanding, it can be thought to exist in reality as well, which is greater.” He thus clearly intends to appeal to some general principle connecting greatness and existence, and (2) seems to be an obvious and plausible candidate. Anselm also does not explicitly assert (5), but he does say about the statement I have given The Ontological Argument 25 as line (4) that it is “obviously impossible,” which suggests that he means, at a minimum, to assert the denial of (4), which is what (5) is. One of the intriguing features of the argument is that it purports to demonstrate God’s existence a priori, that is, without appeal to any evidence or experience of the world. In this respect it differs from the cosmological argument, which has the premiss that there are some contingent beings, a claim one could only reasonably believe on the basis of evidence or experience. And the argument we will consider in the next chapter requires evidence of the patterns of design the universe exhibits. In contrast, if the ontological argument succeeds, you could prove God’s existence in your armchair, just by thinking about it. It might seem astounding that one could prove God’s existence in this way, but the argument has only two premisses, both of which seem credible. Premiss (2) says that if a thing doesn’t exist, then it is conceivable that there be something greater. Anselm’s thought seems to be that if a thing doesn’t exist, then there is a way that that very thing could be improved, namely, by existing. This is perhaps a slightly stronger claim than he really needs – it would be enough if something or other could be conceived to be greater. But even Anselm’s version seems plausible. Pick your favorite nonexistent being, say, Superman. Despite the many impressive attributes of the Man of Steel, being more powerful than a locomotive, among others, wouldn’t Superman be even greater if, in addition to having superpowers, he also existed? Isn’t existence one of those properties it is better to have than not? If so, it is a great‐making property, one that contributes to a thing’s greatness. The other premiss, (5), says that it is not conceivable that there be a being greater than B, who is, after all, a being than which it is not conceivable that there be a greater. This premiss even seems tautological. So the argument apparently deduces that God exists from a pair of plausible premisses. Gaunilo’s Objection Nevertheless, as we noted, the argument has had its detractors. One of the most famous is the first recorded one, Anselm’s fellow monk, Gaunilo of Marmoutiers. Gaunilo’s “Pro insipiente (On Behalf of the Fool)”5 raised a number of objections, the most well‐known of which appeals to the greatest island. He writes …they say that there is in the ocean somewhere an island which, because of the difficulty (or rather the impossibility) of finding that which does 26 The Philosophy of Religion 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 lands 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, unless he had first convinced me that its very excellence exists in my mind precisely as a thing existing truly and indubitably and not just as something unreal or doubtfully real. (Pro Insipiente (On Behalf of the Fool), chapter 6; in Anselm of Canterbury (1998) The Major Works) Gaunilo clearly thinks that the argument fails, but he is less clear about what the flaw really is. Since he doesn’t apply his example to identify a false or dubious premiss, I think he is most plausibly interpreted as objecting to the validity of the argument;6 in particular, he seems to be giving a recipe for constructing another argument of the same form as Anselm’s but with true premisses and a false conclusion. We could thus take his objection as follows: (Gaunilo) Replacing the name “B” in Anselm’s argument (above)7 with the description “the greatest island” (an island superior to all other lands) creates an argument of the same form as Anselm’s with true premisses and a false conclusion. Therefore, Anselm’s argument is invalid. Anselm’s Reply Anselm’s reply to this objection seems to involve denying that the resulting argument really is of the same form as Anselm’s. First, Anselm says, “I truly promise that if anyone should discover for me something The Ontological Argument 27 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.” So Anselm thinks that his argument is somehow different from any such parody. Exactly why he thinks that the argument Gaunilo constructs is of a different form is suggested by a distinction Anselm goes on to draw. He says to Gaunilo that “you often reiterate that I say that that which is greater than everything exists in the mind, and that if it is in the mind, it exists also in reality, for otherwise that which is greater than everything would not be that which is greater than everything, However, nowhere in all that I have said will you find such an argument, for ‘that which is greater than everything’ and ‘that‐ than‐which‐a‐greater‐cannot‐be‐thought’ are not equivalent for the purpose of proving the real existence of the thing spoken of.” Anselm thus claims that being the greatest is not the same as being the greatest conceivable. No doubt Anselm is correct that there is a difference between the greatest something‐or‐other and the greatest conceivable. The greatest is greater than all others, which need not mean as great as can be or the greatest conceivable. For many categories of things, if there is a greatest, say, the greatest folk‐rock singer or the greatest professional basketball player, there are ways in which those things could be improved – the former could have a slightly less gravelly voice, for example, and the latter could have scored more points per minute played. Gaunilo does indeed describe his Lost Island as “superior … to all those other lands,” without claiming that it is the greatest conceivable island, so perhaps his argument is not of the same form as Anselm’s. The Objection Revised Nevertheless, it is easy enough to repair Gaunilo’s objection to take account of Anselm’s point – simply use instead the example of the greatest conceivable island. (This move is obvious enough that it probably occurred to Gaunilo, but we don’t know what he thought about it.) Here is the revised objection: (Gaunilo 2) Replacing the name “B” in Anselm’s argument (above) with the description “the greatest conceivable island” creates an argument of the same form as Anselm’s with true premisses and a false conclusion. Therefore, Anselm’s argument is invalid. 28 The Philosophy of Religion This modest revision seems to avoid Anselm’s claim that the resulting argument is not of the same form as Anselm’s, and the two analogous premisses seem true. Moreover, the conclusion of the resulting argument, (6G) The greatest conceivable island exists. is obviously false.8 As impressive as many of our actual islands are, none of them is so great that it is inconceivable that it be improved. So it looks like Gaunilo is correct in his claim that Anselm’s is invalid. We still haven’t seen which particular inference in the argument is invalid, however, but the inference from (2) to (3) is certainly suspect: (2) For all x, if x does not exist, then it is conceivable that there is something greater than x. (premiss) ∴ (3) If B does not exist, then it is conceivable that there is a being greater than B. (2), universal instantiation (2) is a general claim, a claim that is supposed to apply to everything. The inference to (3), an application of the rule of universal instantiation, applies that general claim to the particular thing B. Now universal instantiation is a valid rule of inference – any claim true of everything is true of any particular thing you pick. But it is only a valid form of inference when the general claim is applied to a particular thing that exists. If we apply a general or universal truth to a thing that doesn’t exist, we could move from a truth to a falsehood. For example, it seems to be true that (2*) For all x, if x is a boy, then x is at some spatio‐temporal distance from here now. Pick any boy, and he will be at some spatio‐temporal distance from where you are right now, maybe nearby, maybe across the ocean, or maybe even far away and long ago. But it would be a mistake to infer from (2*) that: (3*) If Harry Potter is a boy, then Harry Potter is at some spatio‐temporal distance from here now. (2*), universal instantiation Harry Potter is a boy, all right, but he is a fictional boy and is in no direction from where you are now. Similarly, since the greatest conceivable island does not exist, it is illegitimate to apply just any general truth to it, in particular, not the general truth, (2), that if it does not exist then it is conceivable that there is something greater than it. Finally, Anselm’s own application of The Ontological Argument 29 (2) to B presupposes that B actually exists – if B does not exist, then it is a mistake to think that every universal truth applies to it. In other words, (3) follows from (2) only on the assumption that B exists. But this is precisely what the argument is intended to establish. It is not legitimate to assume that B exists in the process of attempting to prove it. How to Talk about God without Presupposing that He Exists Recent work by Lynne Baker and Gareth Matthews (Baker and Matthews, 2010) suggests a way of avoiding this objection. Central to their view is the idea that we can talk about things or persons without presupposing that they exist. That will allow a way for Anselm and his atheist opponent to discuss the being than which a greater cannot be conceived without assuming that such a being really exists. The second step in their proposal is to develop a way in which such beings could be compared with respect to greatness, again without assuming that they exist. Putting these two parts of the view together will allow us to give an alternate argument for (4) It is conceivable that there is something greater than B. that does not require a questionable use of universal instantiation. Baker and Matthews first point out that we can talk about things whether they exist or not. In fact, people can talk about the same thing without agreeing about whether it exists. For example, people can talk about the Loch Ness Monster even if they don’t all think that it exists. If they discuss its approximate length or the dates on which it has allegedly been sighted, they are talking about the same thing. Baker and Matthews call things that we can think about and discuss “objects of thought.” They go on to draw a distinction, like Anselm’s, between existing in reality and existing in the understanding. If the Loch Ness Monster really exists, then it is an object of thought that exists in reality; if it doesn’t exist, it is an object of thought that exists in the understanding alone. Names that we introduce to talk about things can similarly vary in their reference. Thus, “Johnny Appleseed” or “Harry Potter” refer either to objects of thought that exist only in the understanding or to ones that exist in reality. As it turns out, the former refers to an actual person, John Chapman, while the latter refers to a mere object of thought.9 People can use these names, however, to communicate with each other even if, say, some of them think that Johnny Appleseed is mythical or that Harry Potter is real. 30 The Philosophy of Religion Corresponding to the two modes of existence, according to Baker and Matthews, are two ways of possessing a property. An object of thought can have a property in thought or it can have it in reality. An object of thought has a property in thought if someone thinks of it as having that property, whereas an object of thought has a property in reality if, as one would expect, it really has it. For example, Harry Potter has‐in‐thought such properties as having been born on July 31, having been orphaned, and being a wizard, etc. But perhaps he has‐in‐reality the property of having his name on the cover of millions of books. An interesting feature of those objects of thought that exist only in the understanding is that they have‐in‐thought an incomplete set of properties. Harry Potter has‐in‐thought the properties listed above and many more, but he lacks‐in‐thought properties specifying his time of birth, his weight at birth, his blood type, and his body‐mass index at age ten. By contrast, objects of thought that exist in reality have‐in‐reality a full set of properties: for any property P they either have it or they have not‐P, the complement of P. How to Be Greater than a Nonexistent Object Baker and Matthews exploit the difference between having properties in reality versus having them in thought (and the fact that a thing that exists only in thought has‐in‐thought only a limited set of properties) to introduce a technical concept and then to give a sufficient condition for something being greater than a mere object of thought. The technical concept is the relation of being an otherwise exact same thing as, and it is defined as: (OES) If x exists merely in thought, then any y that exists in thought and in reality and has‐in‐reality all the properties that x has‐in‐thought is an otherwise exact same thing as x. So if any real boy has the properties Harry Potter has‐in‐thought, for example, the properties in the set {having been born on July 31, having been orphaned, being a wizard, etc.}, then that real boy is an otherwise exact same thing as Harry Potter. The real boy will have these properties in reality, and he will have many more properties, as well. Next, by making use of this idea, Baker and Matthews propose a sufficient condition for how a thing that exists only in thought could have something be greater than it: (G) For anything x that existed only in thought, an otherwise exact same thing that existed both in thought and in reality would be greater (not just greater in thought) than x. The Ontological Argument 31 A real boy who has all of the properties that Harry Potter has only in thought would be greater than Harry Potter. So if it is conceivable that a real boy have all of those properties, then it is conceivable that there be someone greater than Harry Potter. Principle (G) has several attractive features. Perhaps you think that things that do not exist in reality do not have any amount of greatness. Principle (G) provides a way for something to be greater than such a thing without assuming that the thing has any amount of greatness in the first place. Or perhaps you think that some nonexistent things have a fair amount of greatness, even though they do not really exist. If, for example, you think that Harry Potter has a remarkable amount of greatness, then you would not want a principle that implied that any actually existing kid, your bratty little cousin, say, is greater than Harry Potter. Principle (G) doesn’t imply this. It says instead that anyone who is just like Harry Potter, except for having his various properties in reality rather than merely in thought, would be greater than Harry Potter. An Improved Version of the Argument We saw above that in our initial formulation of Anselm’s argument the inference from (2) For all x, if x does not exist, then it is conceivable that there is something greater than x (premiss) to (3) If B does not exist, then it is conceivable that there is a being greater than B (by universal instantiation, where “B” is a name whose reference is fixed by the description “the being than which a greater cannot be conceived”) presupposes that B is one of the things that exists, that it is one of the things within the domain of a general claim made about everything. But if we reject this inference, then we are left without support for (4) It is conceivable that there is something greater than B. The proposals that Baker and Matthews give offer an alternative route to (4), one that does not require universal instantiation onto an object whose existence is in dispute. As before, we start with an assumption for reduction ad absurdum: (1’) B does not exist in reality. (assumption for reductio ad absurdum) 32 The Philosophy of Religion Next we add (2’) If B does not exist in reality, then if it is possible for something to have in reality all of the properties that B has in thought, then it is conceivable that there is something greater than B (OES) and (G) and (3’) It is possible that something has in reality all of the properties that B has in thought. (premiss) Now we can legitimately deduce (4) It is conceivable that there is something greater than B (1’) (2’) (3’) from these new premisses and then continue the argument, as before, with ∴ (5) It is not conceivable that there is something greater than B. (premiss) (6) B exists. (1’)–(5), reductio ad absurdum A New Problem Rears Its Head Now that we have found a way to support (4) that depends on (G), the principle that justifies a comparison of greatness with beings that exist in thought only, we should turn our attention to (5). After all, the same principles of referring to objects of thought and the same standard (G) of comparative greatness should apply to it. According to Baker and Matthews, when we use a name or referring expression in a context where there is disagreement about whether the object exists, then the expression refers to an actual object, if there is one, and it refers to a non‐actual, mere object of thought, otherwise. So the name “B” in the context of the dispute between Anselm and his atheist opponent, and thus in the argument, refers to God, if God exists, and if God doesn’t exist, then “B” refers instead to the mere object of thought that has‐in‐thought the property of being such that it is that than which nothing greater can be conceived. Whichever object of thought “B” refers to, given that it is referential, (5) must be interpreted de re, that is, as (5*) B is such that it is not conceivable that there is something greater than it. The Ontological Argument 33 Since the referent of “B” is either something existing in reality or it is an object of thought existing merely in the understanding, which proposition (5*) expresses depends upon whether God exists in reality. If God does exist in reality, then (5*) expresses the proposition that (5*r)  God is such that it is not conceivable that there is something greater than it. But if God does not exist in reality, then (5*) instead expresses the proposition that (5*u)  The mere object of thought that has‐in‐thought the property of being such that it is that than which nothing greater can be conceived is such that it is not conceivable that there is something greater than it. Now (5*r) seems to me to be true. But, as we have just seen in developing the alternative argument for (4), under the assumption that God does not exist, (5*u) is false. Or, more carefully, the theory that Baker and Matthews produce provides a reason for thinking that (5*u) is false, at least if it is possible that something really has the property of being such that it is that than which nothing greater can be conceived.10 If B exists only in the understanding but it is possible that something has‐in‐reality the property of being such that it is that than which nothing can be conceived, then, by (OES), it is possible that there be an otherwise exact same thing as B. But if B exists only in thought and it is possible that there be an otherwise exact same thing as it, then, by (G), B is such that it is possible that something be greater than it. In this case, then, B is such that it is conceivable that there is something greater than it. So the premiss (5*) either expresses the true proposition (5*r), or it expresses the false proposition (5*u). Which one that is, the true one or the false one, depends upon whether the being that which it is not conceivable that there be a greater exists in reality. If we do not assume that God exists, or that “B” refers to an object that exists in reality, we cannot say whether (5*) expresses a truth or a falsehood. Our first formulation of Anselm’s argument foundered for the reason that a crucial inference in the argument presupposed that God exists. We found a way around that problem by appealing to Baker and Matthew’s theory of “objects of thought,” according to which Anselm and his atheist opponent can both refer, neutrally, without taking a stand on whether or not that object of thought exists. But this strategy leaves it open as to whether a crucial premiss of the argument is true. Thus, the argument is not successful under this interpretation, either. 34 The Philosophy of Religion Notes 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 This exceptionally brief history ignores many philosophers between Kant and the late 20th century who wrote about the ontological argument, and, in particular, it ignores the work of Charles Hartshorne, who anticipated the application of modal logic to interpreting the argument. See, for example, his Anselm’s Discovery (Hartshorne, 1967). In the 5th century, Augustine had all of the ingredients for thinking of God as the greatest possible being, but his attempt to argue for the existence of such a being is singularly unpersuasive, primarily, I think, because he didn’t avail himself of the reductio ad absurdum form of argument. See Wierenga (2011). Some philosophers, including Norman Malcolm, think that there is a better argument in the following chapter of the Proslogion. Anselm writes “aliquid quo nihil maius cogitari possit.” The text quoted above translates this phrase as “something than which nothing greater can be thought,” which is a rendering many recent translations adopt. But much of the secondary literature and some other translations use the formulation, “something a greater than which cannot be conceived” (cf. Malcolm, 1960, p. 41). I’ll follow the latter usage only because it often reads more smoothly and not to mark any distinction. Anselm had quoted the Psalms (13:1, 52:1) “The fool has said in his heart, ‘There is no God’” to have an example of someone for whom God exists in the understanding but who denies that God exists in reality. Unfortunately, the derogatory label for Anselm’s atheistic opponent stuck; hence its use in Gaunilo’s defense. This is how Anselm takes the objection. He says, “[you claim], moreover that what I say does not follow, namely, that ‘that‐than‐which‐a greater‐­cannot‐be‐ thought’ exists in reality from the fact that it exists in the mind, any more than that the Lost island most certainly exists from the fact that, when it is described in words, he who hears it described has no doubt that it exists in his mind” (“Reply to Gaunilo,” in The Major Works, chapter 1, emphasis added, Anselm of Canterbury, 1998). Recall that “B” is a name whose reference is fixed by the description “the being than which a greater cannot be conceived.” The revised version of Gaunilo’s objection is an improvement over the first version not only in proposing an argument of the same form as Anselm’s. It might be that the conclusion of the original argument, that the greatest island exists, isn’t false; if one of our actual islands is greater than all the others, the greatest island does exist. This view has some parallels with the account of reference to fictional objects presented by Saul Kripke in his Reference and Existence (Kripke, 2013). If it is not possible that anything have this property, then premiss (3’) of the argument is false. The Ontological Argument 35 Suggested Reading Lynne R. Baker and Gareth B. Matthews, “Anselm’s Argument Reconsidered,” The Review of Metaphysics 64.1 (2010): 31–54. Peter Millican, “The One Fatal Flaw in Anselm’s Argument,” Mind 113.451 (2004): 437–476. Graham Oppy, “Ontological Arguments,” The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Spring 2015 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), http://plato.stanford.edu/ archives/spr2015/entries/ontological‐arguments. Alvin Plantinga, God, Freedom, and Evil (New York: Harper and Row, 1974; reprinted Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1977), pp. 85–112. 4 The Argument from Design Watches and Watchmakers In 1802 William Paley (1743–1805), the Archdeacon of Carlisle Cathedral in the north of England, presented what turned out to be an enormously influential example. He wrote: In crossing a heath, suppose I pitched my foot against a stone, and were asked how the stone came to be there; I might possibly answer, that, for any thing I knew to the contrary, it had lain there forever: nor would it perhaps be very easy to show the absurdity of this answer. But suppose I had found a watch upon the ground, and it should be inquired how the watch happened to be in that place; I should hardly think of the answer which I had before given, that, for any thing I knew, the watch might have always been there. Yet why should not this answer serve for the watch as well as for the stone? Why is it not as admissible in the second case, as in the first? For this reason, and for no other, viz. that, when we come to inspect the watch, we perceive (what we could not discover in the stone) that its several parts are framed and put together for a purpose, e.g. that they are so formed and adjusted as to produce motion, and that motion so regulated as to point out the hour of the day; that, if the different parts had been differently shaped from what they are, of a different size from what they are, or placed after any other manner, or in any other order, than that in which they are placed, either no motion at all would have been carried on in the machine, or none which would have answered the use that is now served by it. (Paley, 1802, chapter 1) According to Paley, if you find a watch and notice that its parts fit together and are arranged so precisely as to serve the aim of telling the time, the The Philosophy of Religion, First Edition. Edward R. Wierenga. © 2016 Edward R. Wierenga. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. The Argument from Design 37 reasonable thing to conclude is that the watch had a designer; the design present in the watch is evidence of a watchmaker. Paley goes on to list some factors that wouldn’t weaken this inference even if they were true: you don’t know how watches are made and have never seen one made; the watch sometimes goes wrong or is never precisely accurate; there are parts of the watch that don’t seem to be required; or someone tells you that the matter in the location where you found the watch had to be arranged in some way or other, and in a watch‐like fashion is simply one of many possible ways it could be arranged. Whether any of these conditions hold (and Paley lists a few more), it is, nevertheless, reasonable to conclude that the watch was designed. Paley then claims that the same kind of inference is available regarding the universe, or at least many parts of it. He writes: Every indication of contrivance, every manifestation of design, which ­existed in the watch, exists in the works of nature; with the difference, on the side of nature, of being greater and more, and that in a degree which exceeds all computation. I mean that the contrivances of nature surpass the contrivances of art, in the complexity, subtlety, and curiosity of the mechanism; and still more, if possible, do they go beyond them in number and variety; yet, in a multitude of cases, are not less evidently mechanical, not less evidently contrivances, not less evidently accommodated to their end, or suited to their office, than are the most perfect productions of human ingenuity. ­(Paley, 1802, chapter 3) The conclusion we are supposed to draw is that, just as the design exhibited by a watch justifies us in believing the watch to have had a designer, so the design exhibited by things in the natural order justifies us in believing that nature had a designer, as well.1 But is there an argument here, and, if so, how exactly is it supposed to proceed? Perhaps we can summarize Paley’s detection of design throughout nature as the claim that (1) The universe exhibits design. Maybe we should add (2) Everything that exhibits design was designed. and then deduce ∴ (3) The universe was designed. (1) (2) 38 The Philosophy of Religion Paley doesn’t actually assert (2), however, and in any event, we shouldn’t expect (2) to be widely accepted. But exactly how is (1) supposed to justify (3)? An Argument from Design A suggestion can be found in another statement of the argument, given several decades earlier by one of the characters in David Hume’s (1711–1776) Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion (1779). There Cleanthes says to his companions Philo and Demea, Look round the world: contemplate the whole and every part of it: You will find it to be nothing but one great machine, subdivided into an infinite number of lesser machines, which again admit of subdivisions to a degree beyond what human senses and faculties can trace and explain. All these various ­machines, and even their most minute parts, are adjusted to each other with an accuracy which ravishes into admiration all men who have ever contemplated them. The curious adapting of means to ends, throughout all nature, resembles ­exactly, though it much exceeds, the productions of human contrivance; of human designs, thought, wisdom, and intelligence. Since, therefore, the effects resemble each other, we are led to infer, by all the rules of analogy, that the causes also resemble; and that the Author of Nature is somewhat similar to the mind of man, though possessed of much larger faculties, proportioned to the grandeur of the work which he has executed. By this argument a posteriori, and by this argument alone, do we prove at once the existence of a Deity, and his similarity to human mind and intelligence. (Hume, 1947, part 2)2 Cleanthes here claims to prove the existence of a Deity; that is, God. But his remark about the “rules of analogy” suggests that we should not think of the argument in question as a deductive argument. Rather, the argument from design is best construed as an inductive argument. In a valid deductive argument the truth of the premisses guarantees the truth of the conclusion; by definition, if an argument is valid, it’s not possible for its premisses to be true and conclusion false. The argument we were tempted to attribute to Paley is a valid argument: ∴ (1) The universe exhibits design. (2) Everything that exhibits design was designed. (3) The universe was designed. (1) (2) But, as we noted, it would be difficult to secure widespread assent to (2). In contrast, in a good inductive argument, the truth of the premisses The Argument from Design 39 doesn’t guarantee the truth of the conclusion; rather, they confirm or support or give a good reason for the conclusion. For example, the argument (4) Every emerald we have examined has been green. Probably, (5) The next emerald we will examine will be green. seems like a good inductive argument. Our direct evidence about the green color of emeralds we have examined is also evidence in favor of the proposition that the next emerald we find will also be green. In any event, we should not object to the argument from design simply on the grounds that it is inductive, for the fact is that we (implicitly) rely on inductive arguments in much of our daily lives, for example, in thinking that flipping the switch will turn on the lights, that the food your favorite restaurant serves you is safe to eat, or that the floor will support your weight. Perhaps, then, the way to turn Paley’s claims about the watch and Cleanthes’ appeal to the productions of human contrivance into an inductive argument is as follows: (6) The universe exhibits design that is analogous to the design exhibited by productions of human contrivance. (7) The design exhibited by the productions of human contrivance is a result of their having been designed. Probably, (3) The universe was designed. (1) (2) Some Initial Objections to the Argument Hume has his other characters propose objections to the argument defended by Cleanthes. These objections may be divided into two kinds: the first attempt to show that the argument does not succeed in justifying its conclusion; the second, which we will take up in the next section, claim that even if the argument does establish its conclusion, that conclusion is far weaker than the proponent of the argument intends. No arguments from a part to the whole Philo asks, “Can a conclusion, with any propriety, be transferred from parts to the whole?” He then adds, “A very small part of this great system, during a very short time, is very imperfectly discovered to us; and do we 40 The Philosophy of Religion thence pronounce decisively concerning the origin of the whole?” The suggestion, I think, is that we have only observed a small part of the universe – far smaller in Hume’s day than our own, but still relatively small – and even that for only a small fraction of the time the universe has existed. So the part of the universe that we observe exhibits design, but how does that justify us in thinking that the whole universe exhibits design? So understood, this is an objection to the first premiss of the argument, (6). Philo thinks that we do not have enough evidence to support it. One thing to note is that Philo is certainly correct that one cannot always reason correctly from traits of a part of a thing to a trait of the whole thing. Any part of my car weighs less than 500 pounds, but of course it doesn’t follow that my whole car weighs less than 500 pounds. On the other hand, it sometimes is reasonable to argue from a part to the whole. The criminal defendant would not persuade the jury by saying, “I concede that the sample of my blood matches the blood at the scene of the crime; but how do you know that the rest of my blood is like that? You can’t argue from a part to the whole.” So sometimes a part is representative of the whole, or, as in the example of the blood, the part is a good sample. Is the part of the universe human beings have observed representative of the whole universe? Our actual practice is to think of it that way: we assume, for example, that the speed of light is a constant throughout the universe and not merely in our vicinity. Thus, this first objection is not decisive. It is worth noting that, even if the objection were convincing, the defender of the argument has a fallback position. The argument could be revised to conclude, not that the whole universe was designed, but that a significant part of it was. It might still be impressive to learn, for example, that our solar system and the Milky Way and other nearby galaxies were designed. No analogical arguments about unique objects Philo also claims that analogical reasoning does not hold in the case of unique objects. He says, When two species of objects have always been observed to be conjoined together, I can infer, by custom the existence of one whenever I see the existence of the other; and this I call an argument from experience. But how this argument can have place where the objects, as in the present case are single, individual, without parallel or specific resemblance, may be difficult to explain.3 The Argument from Design 41 Philo adds, “to conclude that an orderly universe must arise from some thought and art like the human … it were requisite that we had experience of the origin of worlds; and it is not sufficient, surely, that we have seen ships and cities arise from human art and contrivance.” Philo admits that some analogical arguments of this style can reasonably support a conclusion, but he claims that such arguments are unsuccessful in a “subject so sublime and so remote for the sphere of our observation,” in particular, when the subject is as unique as the universe. What shall we say about this objection? On the one hand, every object is unique or individual in some sense, for example, the next emerald I discover (supposing I discover just one), or the heaviest rock in the field, but we should be able to construct respectable analogical arguments about such objects. Perhaps this is just a superficial kind of uniqueness. Suppose instead that we found a sphere of a completely unknown substance. We would nevertheless be justified in reasoning about it by analogy with similar sized or shaped objects. We could, for example, reasonably assume that the law of universal gravitational attraction applied to it and thus calculate its rate of acceleration if dropped. Finally, we might note that cosmologists who attempt to study the origin of the universe or the nature of the big bang seem to appeal to analogical reasoning to what we may concede are unique objects or events in the sense Philo intends. Of course this isn’t a refutation of Philo’s claim – perhaps the cosmologists are in trouble, too, or perhaps their arguments are different in some significant way. Still, it is tempting to think that Philo’s second objection is no more compelling than his first. The analogy is too weak Philo also objects that the analogy between the universe and the human artifacts exhibiting design is too weak to support the conclusion of the argument. He says, What I chiefly scruple in the subject … is not so much that all religious arguments are by Cleanthes reduced to experience, as that they appear not to be even the most certain and irrefragable of that inferior kind. That a stone will fall, that fire will burn, that the earth has solidity, we have observed a thousand and a thousand times; and when any new instance of this nature is presented, we draw without hesitation the accustomed inference, The exact similari...
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