Int J Philos Relig (2010) 68:15–29 DOI 10.1007/s11153-010-9252-7

All too skeptical theism William Hasker

Received: 13 August 2009 / Accepted: 1 June 2010 / Published online: 7 August 2010 © Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2010

Abstract Skeptical theism contends that, due to our cognitive limitations, we cannot expect to be able to determine whether there are reasons which justify God’s permission of apparently unjustified evils. Because this is so, the existence of these evils does not constituted evidence against God’s existence. A common criticism is that the skeptical theist is implicitly committed to other, less palatable forms of skepticism, especially moral skepticism. I examine a recent defense against this charge mounted by Michael Bergmann. I point out that the Bergmannian skeptical theist is unable to determine concerning any event or feature of the world whether that feature or event is good or evil all-things-considered. Because of this the skeptical theist must abandon any attempt to act in such a way that the world becomes better rather than worse as a result. These, I claim, are seriously skeptical conclusions, and should cause us to be skeptical about skeptical theism itself. Keywords Skeptical theism · Evidential argument from evil · Inductive skepticism · Moral skepticism · Unjustified evil

Skeptical theism was devised as a strategy for blocking the evidential argument from evil against the existence of God. That argument alleges that there exist instances of evil that could not have been permitted by an all-good God. Skeptical theism replies that, due to our cognitive limitations, we cannot expect to be able to determine whether there are reasons which justify God’s permission of these evils. And since this is so, the existence of apparently unjustified evils does not constitute evidence against God’s existence.

W. Hasker (B) Department of Philosophy, Huntington College, Huntington, IN 46750, USA e-mail: [email protected]

123

16

Int J Philos Relig (2010) 68:15–29

In the intensive discussion that has swirled around this topic, one line of criticism has increasingly come to the fore: it is alleged that the skeptical principles endorsed by skeptical theism commit the skeptical theist to other, unwelcome forms of skepticism—especially, skepticism concerning certain matters of morality. A major article defending skeptical theism against these charges has been published by Michael Bergmann, and the main business of the present paper will be to examine Bergmann’s defense.1 Before launching into this, however, it will be helpful to spend a little time on the formulation of the evidential argument from evil against which skeptical theism is directed. The evidential argument from evil The original, one might say classical, version of the evidential argument from evil was stated by William Rowe in 1979: 1. There exist instances of intense suffering which an omnipotent, omniscient being could have prevented without thereby losing some greater good or permitting some evil equally bad or worse. 2. An omniscient, wholly good being would prevent the occurrence of any intense suffering it could, unless it could not do so without thereby losing some greater good or permitting some evil equally bad or worse. 3. There does not exist an omnipotent, omniscient, wholly good being.2 In 1988, however, Rowe replaced this version of the argument with another: P. No good we know of justifies an omnipotent, omniscient, perfectly good being in permitting E1 and E2 . Q. No good at all justifies an omnipotent, omniscient, perfectly good being in permitting E1 and E2 . not-G: There is no omnipotent, omniscient, perfectly good being.3 Here E1 is the suffering and death of a fawn trapped in a forest fire; E2 is an actual case described by Bruce Russell, in which a five-year-old girl was raped, beaten, and strangled by her mother’s boy-friend. It is this latter version of the argument that has been prominent in some recent discussions, including those by skeptical theists. Rowe undoubtedly had his reasons for this shift in his argument, but I believe the earlier version provides more insight into the logical structure of the issues at stake. One problem is that (P) is inexplicit about at least one crucial point: what would it take for some good to justify an omnipotent, omniscient, perfectly good being in permitting the evils in question? Unless we know the answer to that question we are unable to test premise (P) against E1 , E2 , and other examples. However, it is plain from other things Rowe says that what he has in mind is the same test implied in premise 1 Bergmann (2009). Page references in the text are to this article. Another significant article is HowardSnyder (2010). However, Howard-Snyder’s piece is devoted in its entirety to a single objection to skeptical theism, an objection which is not pursued in the present article. 2 Rowe (1979); quotation is from p. 2 in the Howard-Snyder volume. 3 See Rowe (1988), Rowe (1991), and Rowe (1996). Quotation is from Rowe (1996, p. 263).

123

Int J Philos Relig (2010) 68:15–29

17

(2) of the original argument: the suffering must be such that an omniscient, wholly good being could not prevent it “without thereby losing some greater good or permitting some evil equally bad or worse.” Now, given that the being in question, namely God, is also supposed to be omnipotent, we must suppose that it is logically impossible for him to prevent the evil without losing the greater good, or permitting the equal or greater evil.4 That is to say, the good in question must be such that (a) the existence of the original evil is logically required for the good state of affairs to obtain, and furthermore (b) the goodness of the good state of affairs outweighs the badness of the evil state of affairs, so that the existence of the two together is an all-things-considered good. If this is the case we can say, following Roderick Chisholm, that the badness of the bad state of affairs is “defeated.”5 Similarly, the goodness of a good state of affairs can be defeated if there is an evil state of affairs which is logically necessitated by the good state of affairs, such that the evilness of the bad state of affairs outweighs the goodness of the good state of affairs. An important point to notice here is that the evil of an evil state of affairs is not defeated by its having as a causal consequence a state of affairs whose goodness outweighs the evil. For in that case an omnipotent being presumably could have obtained the good state of affairs in question without permitting the evil. Nor is a good state of affairs defeated by having an evil state of affairs among its causal consequences, for a similar reason: an omnipotent being could have prevented the evil state of affairs without surrendering the good. In the interest of generality, however, the requirement stated in (2) of Rowe’s argument should be broadened to include any serious evil; there is no reason to limit it to instances of intense suffering, though no doubt such instances will play an important role. Summing all this up, we can restate Rowe’s requirement for the justification of evils more formally: Rowe’s Requirement: An omnipotent, omniscient, wholly good being (that is, God) would prevent the occurrence of any serious evil unless he could not do so without thereby losing (without equivalent compensation) some greater good or permitting some evil equally bad or worse. A theist desiring to respond to the evidential argument from evil has several options available. She may admit that there is some evidence supporting the existence of evil that is inconsistent with the existence of God, but may insist that this evidence is outweighed by the evidence in favor of God’s existence. She may, on the other hand, offer candidates for the “greater good” that is served by God’s permitting evils to occur. No one supposes that she can, or should, identify the specific good obtained in most cases, but by offering a number of plausible candidates she can attempt to render credible the claim that there is some such greater good even in cases where we are unable to identify it. Or the theist may challenge Rowe’s Requirement itself, arguing that it is not implied, as is often supposed, either by the core tenets of theism or by the doctrines of some particular religion. Skeptical theism’s response, however, is “None of the above.” 4 There is a slight complication if we assume that the theory of divine middle knowledge is true and that there are true counterfactuals of creaturely freedom (see 394f. n. 3). This complication does not have a significant impact on the argument being presented, so the matter will not be pursued further here. 5 See Chisholm (1990).

123

18

Int J Philos Relig (2010) 68:15–29

Bergmann’s skeptical theism According to Bergmann, “The skeptical theist’s signature move is a very natural one.” That move consists in rejecting the inference from “There are some evils that are such that humans can’t think of any God-justifying reasons for permitting them,” to “probably there aren’t any God-justifying reasons for permitting those evils” (p. 374), This inference is unconvincing, because “if God existed, God’s mind would be far greater than our minds, so it wouldn’t be surprising if God had reasons we weren’t able to think of” (p. 375), This objection, Bergmann thinks, is obvious enough that it would almost certainly be made by some student in an introductory philosophy class to which the evidential argument from evil was presented. The skeptical theist, however, is not an introductory student, and is prepared to submit some additional considerations in support of his objection to the inference noted above. Prominent among these considerations are the following three “skeptical theses”: (ST1 ) We have no good reason for thinking that the possible goods we know of are representative of the possible goods there are. (ST2 ) We have no good reason for thinking that the possible evils we know of are representative of the possible evils there are (p. 376). The bearing of (ST1 ) and (ST2 ) on the evidential argument from evil is clear: If (as may well be the case) there are possible goods and evils of which we know nothing, it may very well be that these unknown-to-us goods and evils provide precisely the reasons that justify God in permitting the evils we do know about. Another important principle is: (ST3 ) We have no good reason for thinking that the entailment relations we know of between possible goods and the permission of possible evils are representative of the entailment relations there are between possible goods and the permission of possible evils (p. 376). Later on, Bergmann introduces yet another skeptical principle (ST4 ) We have no good reason for thinking that the total moral value or disvalue we perceive in certain complex states of affairs accurately reflects the total moral value or disvalue they really have (p. 379). (ST4 ), according to Bergmann, is not needed to make the skeptical theist’s case, but it provides “an additional consideration that supports the lesson taught by (ST3 ) – namely, that there may be a God-justifying reason for permitting E1 and E2 among the goods and evils we know of” (p. 380). Given these skeptical principles, then, the inference made in the evidential argument from evil is readily seen to be unwarranted—or so it seems. Bergmann goes on to say quite a bit more about the skeptical theist’s stance on various issues; in particular, he shows how the principles (ST1 )–(ST4 ) apply to a variety of formulations of the evidential argument from evil. A full discussion of (ST1 )–(ST4 ) would occupy more space than is available here, but some additional consideration is called for. First, a point of clarification: (ST1 )– (ST3 ) speaks of the goods, evils, and entailment relations we know of as “representative” of all possible goods, evils, and entailment relations. But “representative” in

123

Int J Philos Relig (2010) 68:15–29

19

what way? Bergmann explains that they are (or are not) representative “relative to the property of figuring in a (potentially) God-justifying reason for permitting the inscrutable evils we see around us” ( p. 377, italics in original). A question that may be asked about (ST1 ) and (ST2 ), however, is this: for whom are the possible goods and evils in question a benefit or a harm? (I take it as axiomatic that any good (or evil) state of affairs must consist of some actual or possible benefit (or harm) to some rational or sentient being.) If we are thinking of possible benefits and harms for God and his holy angels, it seems extremely plausible that we know very little about them. But on the other hand, it does not seem at all plausible that these are the goods and evils that justify God in permitting inscrutable evils. It would hardly do to suppose that God was justified in permitting the Holocaust because of some incomprehensible-to-us benefit derived from it by God and his angels! To say that would create a new problem of evil worse than the one we are trying to solve. As applied to intelligent extraterrestrials (if any exist), the plausibility of kinds of good and harms that are unknown to us is harder to evaluate. No doubt such beings would be like us in some ways and unlike in others; it’s hard to go beyond that with any confidence. But here we have strong empirical evidence (in the form of the negative results from the Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence) against the idea that such extraterrestrials are sufficiently involved with human affairs to make goods or harms to them plausible candidates for God-justifying reasons with respect to the evils that afflict human beings. But finally, what about goods or harms to human beings? Here, I submit, (ST1 ) and (ST2 ) are not very plausible at all. The idea that there are major sorts of goods and harms that are possible for human beings, and figure prominently in God-justifying reasons, but that are completely unknown in all human history and experience—this, I believe, is something that we might countenance as at most a bare speculative possibility, but have little reason to see as being in any way plausible. It’s true, to be sure, that the higher levels of spiritual development, which arguably represent the greatest goods of which humans are capable, are realized only rarely and imperfectly in human experience, and many of us have at best a faint grasp of what they may involve. But any reasonable treatment of the problem of evil must consider these as “possible goods we know of”; indeed, they figure prominently in some of the theodicies that have actually been offered. I believe, therefore, that the plausibility of (ST1 ) and (ST2 ) is greatly reduced once we ask the question, “benefits or harms for whom?” Bergmann, however, has contested this claim. William Rowe had argued that “the goods for the sake of which much human suffering is permitted will include conscious experiences of those humans, conscious experiences that are themselves good.”6 Bergmann responds to this with yet another skeptical principle: (ST∗1 ) We have no good reason for thinking that the possible goods we know of that involve conscious human experience are representative of the possible goods there are that involve conscious human experience.7

6 Rowe (1986, p. 283). 7 Bergmann (2001, p. 284).

123

20

Int J Philos Relig (2010) 68:15–29

This principle, Bergmann claims, is plausible for the same sorts of reasons that (ST1 ) is plausible. And if it is true, then we can’t exclude unknown sorts of benefits to human beings from the possible goods that might justify horrendous evils afflicting humans. I do not believe this move can succeed. First, we should, following William Rowe, include among “known goods” the possibility of a human being’s “experiencing complete felicity in the everlasting presence of God.” This counts as a known good because we have some grasp of what it would involve, even though a full grasp of this is impossible for us in our present state.8 I believe, furthermore, that it accords with Christian theology to hold that this is the greatest and best good that is possible for human beings. Nothing in that theology, however, indicates that this enormous good logically requires the suffering of horrendous evil by those who will enjoy it. Now, for Bergmann’s argument to work, we have to suppose that there are very great goods, distinct from “complete felicity in the everlasting presence of God.” goods that are completely unknown to us, which logically require that those who benefit from them have undergone horrendous evil, and which are sufficient, in each case in which such evils have been suffered, to defeat the horrendous evil the person has suffered. If these goods came to such persons in our present life, they would presumably not be wholly unknown to us. But if they are to be found in the life to come, two additional problems arise: First, what if anything could be added to the experience of complete felicity that adds enough additional value to defeat a person’s horrendous suffering? But second, the supposition that all horrendous suffering is defeated in this way comes into conflict with the teaching of all the major Christian churches, and apparently of the Bible as well, that not all persons (and not all who undergo horrendous suffering) will in fact enjoy a happy eternal life. In this way Bergmann’s argument may bring him into conflict with the very religious worldview it is his purpose to defend. Another point that deserves to be emphasized is the strongly anti-inductive character of (ST1 )–(ST3 ). Each of these, in effect, forbids us to make a certain sort of inductive generalization, from a group of items we know about to a broader group including the same sorts of items both known and unknown. Now, inductive generalization is an absolutely fundamental component of the human cognitive apparatus. Without the capacity to make such generalizations we could not even survive, let alone develop intellectually. It’s true, of course, that inductive generalization can yield falsehoods as well as truths; it’s for good reason that “hasty generalization” is recognized as an informal fallacy. In fact, a good deal of human cognitive development consists precisely in our learning to make a more subtle and discriminating use of this faculty of generalization. (ST1 )–(ST3 ), however, take us in an entirely different direction. They don’t just urge us to be discriminating in the sorts of generalizations we accept concerning goods, evils, and entailment relations; they forbid us entirely to make such generalizations, no matter how extensive our experience and reflection, and that of others with whom we consult. Such a headlong skeptical assault on a major piece of our cognitive apparatus should not pass unchallenged.

8 Rowe (1996, p. 264).

123

Int J Philos Relig (2010) 68:15–29

21

To be sure, (ST1 )–(ST3 ) do not forbid the use of inductive generalization across the board, but only with respect to certain goods, evils, and entailment relations. It is conceivable, then, that there might be good reasons for rejecting absolutely such generalizations in this range of cases, while permitting it elsewhere. In another article, Bergmann argues this point by comparing the generalizations in question (concerning the goods and evils that there are) to generalizations in cases where we are able to make a fairly complete survey of the reference class in question, a survey that would be extremely likely to bring exceptions to our attention if they exist. (An example that is given is “There are no blue crows in Indiana.”)9 Now it is true that this is the sort of inductive generalization in which we have the greatest degree of confidence, and the generalizations at issue in skeptical theism are not of this kind. But the reasonable use of inductive generalization is not and cannot be limited to such cases. We always begin the process of generalization by reasoning “from the know to the unknown.” Sometimes we are able to follow up with the sort of comprehensive survey that is possible in the blue crow case (thousands of experienced bird-watchers have visited every section of Indiana, and not one has reported a blue crow), and sometimes we are not. In the latter sorts of cases we have less confidence in the result than in the former, but induction confers warrant in both sorts of cases; what differs is the degree of warrant, not its existence. “All crows are black” and “All swans are white” both began life as reasonable inductive inferences even though much of the territory that might harbor exceptions had not been visited. The generalization about crows has held up (so far as I know), while the one about swans was refuted when Europeans reached Australia, but both were initially reasonable, well-founded conclusions. Bergmann’s argument, however, requires that the sorts of generalizations impugned by (ST1 ) and (ST2 ) confer no warrant whatsoever. This, I submit, is a seriously skeptical conclusion, and one he has not adequately defended.10 Is skeptical theism too skeptical? Earlier we saw that the theist wishing to respond to the evidential argument from evil has a number of options open. It’s also true that there are various possible ways in which to respond to skeptical theism itself. One way would be to devise a version of the evidential argument that does not fall prey to the skeptical theist’s defense. (Bergmann considers several attempt to do this, and concludes that none of them succeeds.) Or, one might criticize the skeptical theses (ST1 )–(ST4 ) as being overstated and excessive. (I’ve made a beginning on that sort of objection in the previous section.) 9 See Bergmann (2001, pp. 288–291). 10 The early Christians reasoned thus: “Jesus rose from the dead. He could not have done that except for

the power of God; his resurrection demonstrates that God was with him and approved of his mission and message.” It’s too bad the well-known philosopher, Mikaelos Bergmanos, was not on hand to show them the weakness of this reasoning. He had only to point out to them the evident truth of (STVI ) We have no good reason for thinking that the natural causal processes we know of are representative of the natural causal processes there are, where “representative” means, representative with respect to being such as to enable a dead person to come back to life.

123

22

Int J Philos Relig (2010) 68:15–29

One of the most important, and most persistent, sorts of objections to skeptical theism is that this view, and the arguments given in its support, commit the skeptical theist to other, unwelcome forms of skepticism. For example, it has been suggested that the skeptical theist is vulnerable to skepticism about the existence of the past and/or the existence of the external world, since we are unable to tell whether God may have some good reason for permitting us to be deceived about such matters. Most frequent, however, are the charges that skeptical theism commits one to an unacceptable skepticism about values and morality. Even here, however, there are multiple possibilities to consider. One fairly popular line is to argue that, if we accept skeptical theism, we have reason not to prevent suffering in cases where it seems intuitively obvious that we have a duty to do just that.11 After all, if God has permitted someone to suffer, there must be a good reason (though one unknown to us) why their suffering is a good thing all-things-considered, and if so it would be counterproductive for us to prevent the suffering. I believe there is some merit in this argument, but it is not conclusive. Bergmann points out that there might be deontological principles that forbid us to permit great suffering in order to promote a “greater good”—principles that apply to us but not to God, the omniscient and loving creator of the suffering persons (see 391–394). My approach in this section is to begin with one case where Bergmann admits the charge of moral skepticism to be correct, though it is not in his view damaging. We will then look more broadly at the sort of moral skepticism implied by skeptical theism, ending by pointing out a possible incoherence in Bergmann’s stance on these matters. The point conceded by Bergmann concerns “some arguments for God’s existence based on identifying something as an all-things-considered good – even in the light of its consequences.” For instance, if the order one sees in the natural world or the joy one witnesses in people’s lives is identified as reason to think that there is a good being who is the cause of such things, one is failing to take into account the lessons of (ST1 )–(ST4 ). Given our cognitive limitations, we simply don’t know what evils may be entailed by those good things and this prevents us from being able to conclude that they are all-things-considered goods that an omnibenevolent being would bring about (p. 389). Bergmann continues, “The skeptical theist’s response to this charge should, I think, be to accept it” (p. 389). He goes on to say that we might have other ways of learning that something is an all-things-considered good, for instance by divine revelation. But the sorts of theistic arguments described above collapse under pressure from (ST1 )–(ST4 ). Now, the loss of the specific kind of theistic argument specified by Bergmann need not, perhaps, be greatly regretted. What I believe we should focus on, however is the extremely sweeping and profound value-skepticism entailed by the skeptical theist stance. We are, in his view, unjustified in identifying any aspect of the world as an all-things-considered good—or as an all-things-considered evil—on the basis of our 11 This is the objection pursued in Howard-Snyder (2010).

123

Int J Philos Relig (2010) 68:15–29

23

observation of the aspect in question and its known entailment relations. (Hereafter, I will refer to a state of affairs that is good as judged by its intrinsic character and known entailment relations as a prima facie good, and likewise for prima facie evils.) As applied to specific cases, this is likely to strike us as incredible, even outrageous. Think of some happy, healthy, family that is known to you. Do you not believe that, overall, the world is a better place because of the existence of this family, with its relationships of love and mutual concern between parents and children, and the general human flourishing of all concerned? Would it not strike you as unacceptable for someone (Bergmann, for instance!) to insist that for all we know the world might be a much better place had nothing of the sort ever existed? And on the other hand, take some instance of truly horrendous evil—the examples are not scarce, so make your own choice among them—and ask yourself, how plausible is it that the prevention of this horrendous evil would not have improved the state of the world, but might actually have made it worse than it is? Could this apparently terrible event really have been an “all-things-considered good that an omnibenevolent being would bring about”? (To be sure, there may be some readers who are committed to the view that even the most horrific evils are, when properly understood, all-things-considered good. What I am attempting to do here is to arouse our awareness of how extremely counterintuitive this view really is.) Now to Bergmann’s credit, he does not deny that the prima facie good state of affairs really is good in many ways, nor does he deny that the horrendous evil really is evil. With regard to the latter, he states that “When we see or learn of utterly horrific suffering, the sensible and appropriate response is to be extremely upset that it has occurred and, with deep feeling, to think ‘There had better be a good reason for God, if he exists, to permit that suffering; if there isn’t, then there is no perfectly good God”’ (p. 388). The catch comes, however, when we consider the states of affairs in question in the light of their entailment relations with other goods and evils. Since, according to (ST1 )–(ST4 ), we have no idea what those entailment relations may be, we are completely at a loss to determine whether the existence of that happy family, taken as a whole, is a bane or a blessing—and similarly for that horrific suffering. Now I submit that, confronted by this argument, one’s response ought to be to question (ST1 )–(ST4 ) and/or the conclusions derived from them, rather than give up our strong natural conviction that we do have, in a great many cases, good reason to conclude that some things really are good all things considered, and some other things really are all-things-considered bad. Where, in such cases, is our skepticism most plausibly, and most profitably, directed? Our tendency towards being skeptical of the conclusions derived from (ST1 )–(ST4 ) may be reinforced when we consider that the goods and evils that are relevant here must be goods and evils that are connected by logical necessity to the states of affairs in question. The possible evil states of affairs that might outweigh the goodness of the happy family must consist of states of affairs that are logically necessitated by the existence of that happy family. If in later years one of the family’s children goes wrong and becomes a cause of great suffering for others, this is surely tragic. But it does not undermine the all-things-considered goodness of the family’s life together, because the good family life did not logically necessitate the turn of that person towards evil. And on the other hand, the good states of affairs that might outweigh the horrific evil must be good states of affairs that logically require

123

24

Int J Philos Relig (2010) 68:15–29

the existence of that particular evil, or of some other evil at least as bad. Now, no doubt there do exist in some cases such outweighing evils and goods, states of affairs that are logically related in the required way to the original good and evil states of affairs. But it seems enormously implausible that in a great many, even most situations involving conspicuous good and evil, the goods and evils are outweighed and defeated in the way described. That at least is what we all ordinarily think; we ordinarily suppose that, when we see a good state of affairs with no discernable evil entailments, it is very likely that the state of affairs in question really is good all-things-considered; and similarly for egregiously evil states of affairs that, so far as we can tell, are not logically required for goods that are commensurate in their value with the evils. This, however, is denied outright by the skeptical theist, and I submit that this denial constitutes a major kind of moral skepticism. You might, however, be wondering whether the skeptical theist really is obliged to take the rather extreme position we’ve been discussing. In order to see why this stance is required, we need to consider Bergmann’s response to an argument first put forward by Richard Swinburne.12 Begin by considering some case of egregious evil—perhaps the rape and murder of a small child—concerning which it seems extremely improbable to you that there is any good state of affairs for which this atrocity is logically required, and which is sufficiently good to outweigh the terrible evil involved. Then, consider the implications of Bergmann’s principles (ST1 )–(ST4 ). In the light of these principles, the following possibilities occur to you: 1. We may fail to recognize the existence of some good state of affairs that is made possible, or some evil that is averted, because this instance of evil is not prevented. 2. We may fail to grasp the logical connection between this particular evil and some good that is made possible, or some evil that is averted, as a result of its not being prevented. 3. We may fail to evaluate properly the moral significance of this evil state of affairs, or of the good that is made possible, or of the evil that is averted, by its not being prevented. In view of our liability to error in all of these ways, you may think that it is less certain than you had previously supposed that this terrible event, tragic though it undeniably is, is an instance of all-things-considered evil. However, this train of thought seriously underestimates the skeptical implications of (ST1 )–(ST4 ). We need to keep in mind also the following possibilities: 4. We may fail to recognize the existence of some additional evil state of affairs that is made possible, or some good that is prevented, by this instance of evil. 5. We may fail to grasp the logical connection between this particular evil and some additional evil that is made possible, or some good that is prevented, as a result of its not being prevented. 6. We may fail to evaluate properly the moral significance of this evil state of affairs, or of the further evil that is made possible, or the good that is prevented, by its not being prevented. 12 See Swinburne (1988, 27f).

123

Int J Philos Relig (2010) 68:15–29

25

Now, the point made by Swinburne is that (ST1 )–(ST4 ) give us no reason whatever to think that we are more likely to err in the ways specified by (1)–(3) than in the ways specified by (4)–(6). If the sorts of errors specified by (1)–(3) predominate, there may be fewer all-things-considered evils in the world than we are inclined to suppose— even, in the limiting case, none at all. On the other hand, if the errors specified by (4)–(6) predominate, there may be more all-things-considered evils than we suppose even in our darkest moments. Swinburne rightly asks, “Why should our inadequacies of moral belief lead us to suppose that the world is worse rather than better than it really is?”13 And since the skeptical theist principles (ST1 )–(ST4 ) say nothing about which sorts of errors are more likely, they give us no reason to alter our original judgment about the presence of all-things-considered evil, either in this case or in a great many others. Lacking any reason to think we are more likely to err in one direction than in the other, says Swinburne, the skeptical theist’s maneuver is worthless. Bergmann’s response is that Swinburne has misconceived the point of the skeptical theist’s strategy. The skeptical theist does not propose (ST1 )–(ST4 ) in order to lower our original probability estimate concerning the presence of all-things-considered evil in this or that case. Rather, the intent is to entirely discredit that estimate. He writes, “But in fact, the skeptical theist’s response is that we aren’t justified in thinking the probability judgment initially appears the way Swinburne says it appears. Clear thinking and reflection on (ST1 )–(ST4 ) reveal that there’s no particular value or range (short of the range between 0 and 1) that the probability in question appears to be” (p. 388).14 It is clear that Bergmann’s answer here, if accepted, successfully undermines the evidential argument from evil. One can’t expect the conclusion of an argument to be accepted on the basis of premises concerning which one has no idea whether they are at all probable. It is also clear that, even apart from Swinburne’s counter-argument, it is much more satisfactory if theists can reject altogether the judgments concerning the probability of instances of all-things- considered evil, instead of merely reducing those probabilities. For suppose someone, under the influence of (ST1 )–(ST4 ), should find her probability for the judgment that the child’s rape and murder are all-thingsconsidered evil reduced to as little as 20%. Ironically, this result would be nearly as threatening for theism as if the probability were rated much higher, say at 80% or more. This is because of the well-known fact that there are vastly many instances that most of us would be initially inclined to classify as all-things-considered evil. If the probability that there are outweighing goods for a single instance of prima facie gratuitous evil is set at 0.8, the combined probability that each of ten such instances is thus outweighed shrinks to 0.107—and given enough more such instances, the probability that each and every one of them is outweighed becomes vanishingly small. The enormous number of apparently gratuitous evils is a central feature of the entire situation, though it tends to be overlooked because of the tendency to examine one or two examples at a time.

13 Ibid., p. 27. 14 Bergmann does not intend to deny that a great many people are initially inclined to make the sorts of

probability judgments to which Swinburne is appealing. His claim is rather that these judgments are devoid of epistemic warrant.

123

26

Int J Philos Relig (2010) 68:15–29

Bergmann’s position here, however, may exact a price of its own. If we are to discredit entirely our probability-judgments concerning apparently gratuitous evil in the way described, it would seem that an additional assumption is required, as follows: (ST5 ) The relation between the prima facie goodness or badness of a state of affairs and its all-things-considered goodness or badness is completely random. That is to say, a prima facie good state of affairs is as likely to be evil all-thingsconsidered as a state of affairs that is prima facie extremely evil—and vice versa. If this were not so, one might argue, our judgments concerning the prima facie goodness or badness of a state of affairs would constitute evidence of its all-things-considered goodness or badness, and would confer probability on judgments concerning this. Bergmann, however, does not endorse (ST5 ) and does not agree that his view requires him to accept it.15 What he does accept, rather, is (ST∗5 ) The relation between the prima facie goodness or badness of a state of affairs and its all-things-considered goodness or badness is unknown to us (there may be a strong correlation, there may not be, we don’t know whether and how likely it is that there is such a correlation). That is to say, we have no idea how likely a prima facie good state of affairs is to be evil all-things-considered and we have no idea how likely a state of affairs that is prima facie extremely evil is to be evil all-things considered—and the same point applies with respect to how likely they are to be good all-things-considered.16 The upshot of this is that (ST∗5 ) makes an epistemological point; it disclaims entirely any knowledge (or even well-founded belief) on our part as to how likely it is that a state of affairs that is prima facie good will be good all-things-considered. However, Bergmann refuses to endorse (ST5 ) itself, which is not merely epistemological but makes a substantive assertion about the actual state of the world. But what of the argument suggested earlier: that if as a matter of fact there is a good (though not perfect) correlation between the prima facie goodness of a state of affairs and its goodness all-thing-considered, our judgments to this effect in particular cases will be reliable and therefore warranted? (On a Plantinga-style epistemology, one would say that our cognitive apparatus is “functioning properly” in such cases.) Bergmann’s response is that (ST5 *), which itself is based on (ST1 )–(ST4 ), constitutes an undercutting defeater for our belief, based on the prima facie goodness of a state of affairs, that the state of affairs in question is good all-things-considered. So even if (for example) the existence of the happy family referred to earlier is good all-thingsconsidered, a person’s belief that this is so is unwarranted because of the defeater (ST5 *). This is so even for someone who does not accept (ST5 *), because she ought to accept (ST5 *) even if in fact she does not accept it. She is in the same position as someone who believes, quite unreasonably, that the number of hairs on her head has a 6 as the last digit—and the belief happens to be true. Such a person does not in fact believe any proposition that is a defeater for this belief, but she ought to believe such a 15 My thanks to Michael Bergmann for clarifying his stance on these matters in correspondence. 16 Michael Bergmann, in correspondence.

123

Int J Philos Relig (2010) 68:15–29

27

defeater; she ought to realize, “It’s quite unlikely that the last digit is a 6, and I have no positive reason whatsoever to believe that it is.” And because of this, the proposition that she ought to believe is a defeater for her belief about the number of hairs on her head, and renders that belief irrational. Here, then, is the upshot: Bergmann has no idea whatsoever—and the rest of us ought to have no idea whatsoever—as to whether states of affairs that are prima facie good tend on the whole to be good all-things-considered. So even if the correlation does in fact hold, we are irrational to accept that it holds; if we are right and it does in fact hold, that is purely a matter of epistemic good luck. Is skeptical theism incoherent? Up to this point Bergmann’s position, while extremely skeptical on certain points, is at least coherent. In what follows, its coherence will be challenged. The problem we are concerned with arises in the section in which Bergmann responds to the charge that skeptical theism commits him to views which have a crippling effect on ordinary moral reasoning. In response, he sets out a proposal for how skeptical theists (and others) can go about making moral decisions. He notes that “we may have some duties that constrain our behavior independently of the consequences of our actions”—thus, we need not assume a thoroughly consequentialist approach to ethics. However, he acknowledges also that “it is often very important in making moral decisions that we consider the consequences of our actions – the good and the harm that we think will result from our choices” (p. 392). He goes on to say, we aren’t morally bound to do what in fact has the overall best consequences (since we typically can’t determine that). What is relevant are the likely consequences we have some reason to be confident about after a reasonable amount of time and effort aimed at identifying the expected results of our behavior. If, after such consideration, a particular course of action seems clearly to maximize the good (or minimize the bad) among the consequences we’re able to identify and we non-culpably and reasonably take ourselves to have no overriding consequence-independent obligation to refrain from that action, then that action is a morally appropriate one for us to perform (p. 392). Now, Bergmann’s proposal here strikes me as admirable; skeptical theists, and others, who follow this prescription will be in a good position for making practical moral decisions. In the present context, however, an important question presents itself: Why are “the likely consequences we have some reason to be confident about after a reasonable amount of time and effort aimed at identifying the expected results of our behavior” relevant to moral decision-making? What is the moral significance of the fact that “a particular course of action seems clearly to maximize the good (or minimize the bad) among the consequences we’re able to identify”? To be sure, the answer to these questions may seem obvious. And for most of us, I believe, the obvious answer is the correct one. However, this obvious answer cannot apply in the case of the skeptical theist. For most of us, the course of action suggested by Bergmann is appropriate because it represents the best we can do in order to make things better

123

28

Int J Philos Relig (2010) 68:15–29

rather than worse overall—as we sometimes say, to “make the world a better place.” For the skeptical theist, however, this reason does not apply. This is because the skeptical theist sees no reason whatever to think concerning any particular action that it will make the world a better place—or, for that matter, a worse place. So far as he can see, the effect of any of one’s actions on the overall goodness or badness of the world is completely random—that is, we don’t know that it is in fact random, but any assumption to the contrary would be altogether lacking any warrant or justification. Why, then, should it matter whether the foreseeable consequences of an action are good, bad, or indifferent? There simply is no reason to think that the apparent goodness or badness of the foreseeable results of an action have any particular relation to the all-things-considered goodness or badness of the action and its consequences.17 Given all this, it seems evident that the decision to perform the action whose foreseeable consequences are prima facie best represents for the skeptical theist an arbitrary preference—a choice which, while certainly not reprehensible, is not motivated by any considerations that can claim moral significance. And it is here, I claim, that we can find a certain incoherence in the Bergmannian skeptical theist’s approach to morality: In his moral decision-making, he gives a central role to a procedure which, given his assumptions, is lacking in moral significance, namely that the action should be chosen (deontological considerations aside) that has the foreseeable consequences that are prima facie best.18 The rest of us may very well do what the skeptical theist recommends, by following his procedure for moral decision-making. But our position in doing this varies greatly from his own. Most of us—including, I’ll wager, skeptical theists in their off-duty moments—assume that the results of our actions we are cognizant of, after sufficient investigation and reflection, are likely to be typical, with respect to their moral value, of the total results of those actions. And if those actions pass muster as being prima facie good, we assume that they are likely to be good-all-things-considered as well. Feeding a hungry child is more likely than not—in fact is much more likely than not— to make the world a better place rather than a worse place. There is no certainty here, of course; surprises are always possible. But in general, we think, this relation between known consequences and total consequences holds with a fair degree of reliability.

17 One might be tempted to reason like this: “Well, I know (or have good reason to believe) that the foreseeable consequences of my action will be good – so we are at least that much ahead, even if I have no idea about the goodness or badness of the unforeseen consequences.” This would be a mistake. If the foreseeable consequences are, as it were, “money in the bank,” and the contribution of other, unforeseen consequences is entirely unknown, then we do have some reason to suppose that the goodness or badness of the action all-things-considered will be aligned with its prima facie goodness or badness. But the skeptical theist is committed to denying this, so he must maintain that the prima facie goodness or badness of the foreseeable consequences is in no way relevant to what we should think about the all-things-considered goodness or badness of the total consequences. 18 When asked (in correspondence) about the point of guiding our actions by the value of their foreseeable consequences, Bergmann replied: “I don’t have a long answer. The point or objective is just that this is what we morally ought to do – namely, perform actions which have significantly better reasonably foreseeable consequences than the reasonably foreseeable consequences of alternatives we know of (after a reasonable amount of consideration). This is what we ought to do even though we have no idea what the actual or likely all-things-considered consequences of the contemplated actions would be.”

123

Int J Philos Relig (2010) 68:15–29

29

The skeptical theist, however, believes precisely the opposite, so he has no moral justification for relying on the value of known consequences as a guide to action. It is here, I believe, that we finally see the full extent of the skeptical theist’s moral skepticism. If he is to remain consistent with his skeptical principles he must abandon the aim of maximizing the good and minimizing the bad. He must do this because, in his judgment, no information is available concerning the all-things-considered goodness or badness of any state of affairs whatsoever. It really does not matter how much reliable information may be available concerning the empirically observable consequences of a given action. Whatever those consequences may be, and however accurate one’s information concerning them, it remains the case that we are completely unable to make even a reasonable guess concerning their goodness or badness all-thingsconsidered. This crucially important aspect of ethical reasoning simply drops out entirely. Where moral reasoning is concerned, skeptical theism is All Too Skeptical. References Bergmann, M. (2001). Skeptical theism and Rowe’s new evidential argument from evil. Nous, ˆ 35(2), 228–296. Bergmann, M. (2009). Skeptical theism and the problem of evil. In T. P. Thomas & M. Rea (Eds.), The oxford handbook of philosophical theology (pp. 374–399). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Chisholm, R. M. (1990). The defeat of good and evil. In M. M. Adams & R. M. Adams (Eds.), The problem of evil (pp. 53–68). New York: Oxford University Press. Howard-Snyder, D. (2010). Epistemic humility, arguments from evil, and moral skepticism. In J. Kvanvig (Ed.), Oxford Studies in the Philosophy of Religion. (pp. 17–57). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rowe, W. L. (1979). The problem of evil and some varieties of atheism. American Philosophical Quarterly, 16, 335–341 (Reprinted in D. Howard-Snyder (Ed.), The evidential argument from evil. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Rowe, W. L. (1988). Evil and theodicy. Philosophical Topics, 16, 119–132. Rowe, W. L. (1991). Ruminations about evil. Philosophical Perspectives, 5, 69–88. Rowe, W. L. (1996). The evidential argument from evil: a second look. In D. Howard-Snyder (Ed.), The evidential argument from evil. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Rowe, W. L. (1986). The empirical argument from evil. In R. Audi & W. Wainwright (Eds.), Rationality, religious belief, and moral commitment. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Swinburne, R. (1998). Providence and the problem of evil. Oxford: The Clarendon Press.

123