Int J Philos Relig (2007) 62:65–79 DOI 10.1007/s11153-007-9128-7

Skeptical theism and the problem of moral aporia Mark Piper

Received: 25 April 2007 / Revised: 4 May 2007 / Accepted: 16 May 2007 / Published online: 17 July 2007 © Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2007

Abstract Skeptical theism seeks to defend theism against the problem of evil by invoking putatively reasonable skepticism concerning human epistemic limitations in order to establish that we have no epistemological basis from which to judge that apparently gratuitous evils are not in fact justified by morally sufficient reasons beyond our ken. This paper contributes to the set of distinctively practical criticisms of skeptical theism by arguing that religious believers who accept skeptical theism and take its practical implications seriously will be forced into a position of paralysis or aporia when faced with a wide set of morally significant situations. It is argued that this consequence speaks strongly against the acceptance of skeptical theism insofar as such moral aporia is inconsistent with religious moral teaching and practice. In addition, a variety of arguments designed to show that accepting skeptical theism does not lead to this consequence are considered, and shown to be deficient. Keywords Bergmann, Michael · God · Evil · Evil, Problem of · Practice, religious · Rowe, William · Theism · Theism, skeptical

Introduction The classic formulation of the evidential problem of evil was given by William Rowe (1979).1 Let us call it argument A: (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.

1 See Rowe (1979).

M. Piper (B) Department of Philosophy, St. Louis University, 3800 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108, USA e-mails: [email protected]; [email protected]

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(2)

(3)

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An omniscient, wholly good being would prevent the occurrence of intense suffering if it could, unless it could not do so without thereby losing some greater good or permitting some evil equally bad or worse. Therefore, there does not exist an omnipotent, omniscient, wholly good being.

Premise (1) of Argument A is supported by the following argument, which we will term argument B: (i) (ii) (iii)

(iv)

There is an enormous variety and profusion of intense human and animal suffering in the world. Much of this suffering seems unrelated to any greater goods (or the absence of equal or greater evils) that might justify it. Such suffering as is related to greater goods (or the absence of equal or greater evils) does not, in many cases, seem so intimately related as to require its permission by an omnipotent being bent on securing those goods (the absence of those evils). Therefore, it is more reasonable to accept (1) than to withhold judgment on (1).2

The key to argument B’s support of (1) is the principle of credulity, according to which it is reasonable to believe that what seems to us to be the case is in fact the case. The principle works in the present instance by allowing us to infer from (ii) and (iii)—which hold that gratuitous evil seems to exist—to (1)—which holds that gratuitous evil does exist. And it is on the strength of the latter contention, combined with (2), that we can reasonably infer that God does not exist, according to argument A. In response to argument A, many philosophers3 have attacked (1) by way of taking issue with its supporting argument B. These thinkers have suggested that human epistemic limitations are such that we aren’t in a position to infer from the fact that there don’t seem to be greater goods served in many instances of evil to the fact that there are no greater goods served in many instances of evil. For all we know, these thinkers contend, there exist greater goods that are beyond our ken which both entail the existence of the evil we experience and outweigh or trump that evil. And if this is the case, then God possesses a morally sufficient reason for allowing evil—a morally sufficient reason (MSR) that is beyond our ken. Thus we cannot infer from the existence of apparently gratuitous evil to the non-existence of God. This response to the problem of evil has come to be called ‘skeptical theism’ because it defends theism against the problem of evil by invoking skepticism about our capacity to know God’s reasons (or, what comes to the same thing, the full range of values and/or value-relations). In this paper I intend to criticize skeptical theism (ST). My criticism will be of a very specific sort. I will not be arguing, as some have, that theists should disavow ST because our knowledge of goods is so extensive that skepticism regarding them is unwarranted;4 or because an acceptance of ST opens the door to a universal skepticism;5 or even because acceptance of ST threatens to lead to skepticism about our knowledge of what is good and what is bad.6 I will contend, rather, that ST is problematic in a more distinctively practical way, namely insofar as its consistent application leads its proponent to an agnosticism about how one should act in certain morally significant situations that is inimical to, and inconsistent with, the practical teachings of the theistic religions. I will conclude by suggesting that 2 Rowe (1979), footnote 5. 3 See, for example, Wykstra (1984, 1996), Alston (1996), and Howard-Snyder et al. (2001). 4 See Tooley (1991). 5 See Gale (1996). 6 See Russell (1996).

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the problem of moral aporia, which is most visible in relation to skeptical theism, threatens to infect theodicy and defense responses to the problem of evil as well. In “Skeptical theism, Russell’s objection, and Bergmann’s response,” after specifying the skeptical theses contained in ST in more detail, I will recast Russell (1996) criticism of ST and Bergmann’s (2001) defense of ST against this criticism in order both to situate my contribution within the current dialectic and to prepare the ground for my own argument. In “Practical challenges to skeptical theism” I will introduce the type of criticism that I will tender by briefly recasting analogous sorts of criticism. This will pave the way for my own argument, which I will give in “Skeptical theism and moral aporia.” “Objections and responses” will contain a battery of possible objections to my argument, along with arguments showing that these objections fail. “The expansion of moral aporia” will contain my final comments.

Skeptical theism, Russell’s objection, and Bergmann’s response What is it that proponents of ST claim we cannot know? A skeptical theist is committed to the following 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. 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.7 Skeptical theists contend that these theses reflect an honest and even obvious admission of human cognitive limitations. Just as, for example, we should not be surprised to discover that there are natural laws or types of matter that we haven’t discovered, we shouldn’t be surprised to learn that there are goods or evils or entailment relations between known and/or unknown goods or evils that we haven’t discovered or in fact cannot discover.8 This skepticism regarding our knowledge of goods, it is claimed, is neither extreme nor unwarranted; rather it is, according to one skeptical theist, “extremely modest and completely appropriate. . .It is just the honest recognition of the fact that it wouldn’t be the least bit surprising if reality far outstripped our understanding of it.”9 Or, as another skeptical theist writes, “Surely it is eminently possible that there are real possibilities for [the possible modes of value and the conditions of their realization] that exceed anything we can anticipate, or even conceptualize.”10 7 This list is taken directly from Bergmann (2001), p. 279. 8 Although I use the terms ‘good’ and ‘evil,’ which are commonly equated with consequentialist moral thinking

(and its correlative emphasis upon the maximization of good consequences), I wish to remain open to the possibility that deontological and related divine command moral categories are appropriate in the determination of morally best outcomes. Strictly viewed, then, my use of ‘good’ is meant to stand for ‘morally desirable outcome,’ and my use of ‘evil’ is meant to stand for ‘morally undesirable outcome,’ where these terms imply agnosticism on the question of which normative category or categories are most appropriate. Relatedly, when I speak of an action ‘conducing to’ or ‘best serving’ the good, I am not assuming that this must be understood in a consequentialist fashion. I have elected to use the terms ‘good’ and ‘evil,’ and to speak of actions ‘conducing to the good’ or ‘best serving the good,’ however, owing primarily to convenience and economy of use. 9 Bergmann (2001), p. 284. 10 Alston (1996), p. 109.

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As mentioned above, some thinkers have objected to ST on the grounds that it leads to forms of skepticism so excessive or damaging that we should disavow ST. Among these thinkers is Bruce Russell (1996). Although I will not be following Russell in this line of criticism, my argument will take its cue from considerations arising out of Russell’s work, so it will be necessary to expound it with some care. Russell attacks ST by arguing that a consistent application of its principles leads to excessive skepticism regarding our knowledge of good and evil.11 Russell asks us to imagine a case in which a human observer witnesses an evil act which doesn’t appear to serve any higher good (or avoid any evil equally bad or worse). In order to give the imagined case more specificity, let us say that a man named Stan is taking a walk through the city at night when, passing an alleyway, he sees a bum molesting a young girl. The girl is clearly experiencing a great deal of pain and fear and is screaming for help. Let us further say that Stan is a brave martial arts expert who could easily overpower the bum and help the girl. Finally let us say that Stan decides not to help the girl. We would of course naturally judge Stan’s inaction to be wrong. According to Russell, however, the same skeptical reasoning that prevents us from concluding that there is no MSR that justifies God in allowing any given evil act prevents us from concluding that there is no MSR that provides a justifying reason for Stan’s inaction. We must admit, that is, that there may be some good which outweighs the evil of the girl being molested which can only be achieved if Stan refrains from preventing the molestation. In short, a consistent application of the principles of ST should lead one to be agnostic about whether Stan’s inaction is wrong. But this is surely absurd. ST, then, has led us to a form of skepticism (in this case moral skepticism) that is excessive and unreasonable; and as such we should conclude that ST is also unreasonable, and abandon it. Michael Bergmann (2001) has responded to this criticism. Bergmann argues that the proper agnosticism associated with ST—agnosticism about whether there is some MSR for Stan’s inaction—does not lead to agnosticism about whether Stan’s inaction is wrong. For even if there exists a MSR based on goods beyond our ken that justifies Stan’s inaction, we can be certain that this is not what is motivating Stan.12 And since we know that Stan lacks the appropriate motivation to prevent evil that he could easily prevent, we can know that his motivation is deficient, even if there may be some MSR that justifies his inaction as such. It should be emphasized that Bergmann does not deny that Stan’s inaction might be justified by a MSR based on goods beyond our ken; indeed, Bergmann could hardly deny this, given his acceptance of ST. Bergmann’s argument is that such a possibility does not lead to agnosticism about the rightness of the motivation behind Stan’s inaction. The most that can be claimed in Stan’s case, according to Bergmann, is that the agnosticism arising from ST leads to agnosticism about whether “there exists a (known or unknown) justifying reason for Stan’s inaction.”13 But this latter form of agnosticism, unlike the agnosticism about the rightness of the motivation behind Stan’s inaction is, according to Bergmann, entirely reasonable. “Given our ignorance about what possible goods there are and about which goods require 11 Russell (1996), pp. 196–198. 12 To clarify: Stan’s inaction taken alone can be justified by a good beyond Stan’s ken, but Stan as a moral

agent cannot. To speak of the justification of an action independently of agency is to speak of the action’s consequences (or deontological status) taken alone. An action may be justified in this sense if it has morally beneficial outcomes, whether the agent is aware of them or not. Such is the case with Stan’s inaction: it can be justified in the sense of conducing to the greatest good even though Stan is not aware of it. This is the sense in which Bergmann speaks of Stan’s inaction as justified: “Of course Stan isn’t in possession of this justifying reason which is why we rightly judge him and his motives to be immoral. But this doesn’t change the fact that...his inaction can be positively evaluated in the sense that we can say it has a justifying reason.” (see Bergmann (2001), p. 292) 13 Bergmann (2001), p. 292.

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Stan’s inaction we simply have no idea whether or not [there exists a justifying reason for Stan’s inaction].”14 Bergmann considers this counter-argument sufficient to rebut Russell’s challenge. It is important to notice that Bergmann does not deny that agnosticism about the existence of a justifying reason for Stan’s inaction is proper. Bergmann is entirely willing to concede that, for all we know, there does exist a good beyond our ken that entails that goodness would be best served by Stan not intervening to help the girl being molested. And it seems that every proponent of ST must accede to this, since it is nothing more than a logical elaboration of the agnosticism engendered by the skeptical theses that constitute the ST position.

Practical challenges to skeptical theism Let us suppose that all of what can be broadly termed the ‘theoretical’ challenges to ST can be answered. That is, let us suppose that it can be demonstrated that our skepticism regarding the realm of value is justified; that this skepticism does not, like a virus, engender a universal skepticism; and that this skepticism does not, more specifically, lead to skepticism regarding what we understand to be good and what we understand to be evil. Of course, it must still be borne in mind that we do not know the full range of entailment relations between known goods and evils, but let us suppose that there is no problem of skepticism regarding the goodness of known goods or the badness of known evils. Let us lastly suppose that the proponents of ST can give principled, rational reasons why our skepticism should be restricted to ST1, ST2, and ST3 as elaborated above. On this account, the theist who defends ST is quite within her rights in holding that what theism considers good is in fact good, and what theism considers bad is in fact bad. The primary difference is that there is an admission of agnosticism regarding the existence of goods beyond our ken whose actualization somehow entails the evil we experience and yet outweighs it. This is precisely the picture that the ST proponent wants to paint. It is consistent with the theoretical maintenance of theism, and, supposing it to be true, it shows that the existence of apparently gratuitous evil in no way makes God’s existence implausible. But can ST rebut what can be broadly termed the ‘practical’ challenges to the theist employing ST? In other words, can a theist be a skeptical theist and still live within and according to her religion in the ways that her religion says she should? What I have in mind by this type of challenge is perhaps best introduced by citing an example of such a practical challenge that has already been given in the literature. For this I turn to an argument given by Richard Gale (1996).15 Gale argues that the ST defense in response to the problem of evil leads to a very serious difficulty regarding the ability of theists to take part in the core practice of religion. The difficulty he cites is this: [Relationships of love and friendship] require significant commonality of purposes, values, sympathies, ways of thinking and acting, and the like. The major problem faced by the moral-inscrutability-of-God version of defensive skepticism is that it seems to preclude our being able to enter into such relationships with God, thereby undercutting the very purpose for which God created us according to theism, namely to enter into a communal relation of love with God.

14 Bergmann (2001), p. 293. 15 Gale (1996), pp. 208–211.

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The objection Gale tenders to ST is based on a practical difficulty: it is very difficult to see how a religious believer who accepts ST can nurture a close, personal relationship with God when God allows us to suffer for reasons that we do not know and that we may never know.16 It is hard to see how a religious believer would be able to enter into a relationship of trust and love with a God who allows terrible suffering on a wide scale, and who cannot or will not share the reasons why. In Gale’s words, “We can hardly love someone who intentionally hurts us and keeps his reasons a secret unless for the most part we know his reasons for affecting us as he does and moreover know that they are benevolent.”17 The difficulty that Gale notes is a practical difficulty—it raises a challenge regarding how the skeptical theist can and should take part in the practice of her religion if the view contained in ST is true. Other philosophers—including Eleonore Stump18 —have noticed similar practical problems engendered by the ST response to the problem of evil. In the remainder of this paper I will argue for yet another such practical problem associated with ST. The problem I will develop, however, has less to do with the development and maintenance of a loving relationship with God, and more to do with how a religious believer who accepts ST can consistently be proactive in certain morally significant situations in the way that her religion says she should.

Skeptical theism and moral aporia Let us again consider Stan. Stan, we remember, is a theist (we will say a Christian), and moreover, a proponent of ST. As such, Stan is very sensitive to the possibility that the apparently gratuitous evil that takes place in the world is actually a necessary part of the actualization of greater goods (or the avoidance of evils equally bad or worse) of which he has no conception. Stan thus takes seriously the possibility that all of the evil in the world is trumped or outweighed by higher goods beyond our ken. Let us further suppose that Stan has a developed idea of the conditions that need to be satisfied by a MSR for God to allow evil: (1) In the circumstances, the evil in question is the best available means to the good that justifies God in allowing the evil. (2) The MSR must be compatible with the core doctrines of Christianity. (3) The benefit in question must either go primarily to the sufferer of evil, or the sufferer of evil must eventually be compensated for the evil in some way.19 Thus Stan looks upon human suffering as allowed by God because such suffering is the best available means to bring about some unknown higher good primarily for the sufferer. With 16 Two kinds of claim can be made regarding the goods that are beyond our ken. It might be claimed that (a) we don’t yet know the reasons why we suffer, although someday (perhaps in the next life) we will; or it might be claimed that (b) we don’t know the reasons why we suffer, and we will never know the reasons why we suffer, since, perhaps, they are only accessible to an omniscient being. Gale does not specify which kind of claim regarding the goods beyond our ken he endorses. This is important, however, since the force of Gale’s criticism will be attenuated if the goods are of type (a), because in this scenario we will eventually understand why it is we suffer. If the goods are of type (b), Gale’s criticism is much stronger. 17 Gale (1996), p. 211. 18 In seminar (Fall 2004), Eleonore Stump has mentioned that in her view the problem with cognitive limitation theories is that they lead to a view of God that seems to preclude trust in God, and, in so doing, they introduce a problem of distance from God which makes the maintenance of a close relationship with God difficult. 19 This list excludes one of the conditions suggested by Eleonore Stump, viz., (4) The benefit that goes primarily to the sufferer has to be the warding off of a greater evil, not the production of a greater good. I leave this out because it is highly controversial, and because my argument can be made without it. For the purposes of this paper I am agnostic on the question of whether it should be included in the list given in the main text.

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this in mind, let us again join Stan during his walk through the city at night. Stan walks past the alleyway, and inside he sees the bum molesting the young girl, who is clearly suffering and crying for help. Stan, we recall, is a brave martial arts expert who could easily intervene and save the girl. And clearly Stan should do so. Or should he? Stan, it must be remembered, takes ST seriously; and as such, he believes that God must have reason(s) for allowing people to suffer that we cannot conceive. Moreover, this reason is morally sufficient for allowing the suffering: God allows the suffering because, unbeknownst to us, it is actually the best available means to the achievement of the unknown good in question, a good which provides a benefit primarily to the sufferer. Following Wykstra’s (1984 and 1996) suggestion, Stan believes that much of our experience of evil and suffering is similar to the experience of a child receiving a painful antidote shot to a fatal disease by a concerned parent: we, like the child in the antidote example, aren’t in a position to see the greater good being served, but that doesn’t mean that a greater good isn’t being served.20 With these thoughts in mind, we rejoin Stan at the entrance to the alleyway. His first instinct is of course to rush in and help the young girl. But he pauses. He pauses because it occurs to him that, for all he knows, there may be some significant benefit of which he has no conception that the molested girl will receive precisely by being molested, a good that the girl can receive in no other way. Stan certainly cannot think of any such good, but this doesn’t stop him from holding the conviction that such a good may exist. Now it is certainly true that Stan cannot be motivated to this inaction by a concrete conception of a higher good that the girl will receive through being molested—after all, this is precisely what is entailed by saying that the good in question is beyond Stan’s ability to conceive—but this does not mean that Stan cannot be motivated to not act in this case. And the reason is that Stan is aware of the possibility of there being a very real and very good reason that would so motivate him if he could somehow access it.21 So while it is true to say that Stan isn’t (and cannot be) motivated to inaction by a knowledge of the good in question, it is false to say that Stan can’t be motivated to inaction at all, given Stan’s acceptance of ST. That motivation of this sort is possible can be seen in the following example. Consider a novice nurse working in a nursery who notices that the veteran nurse sometimes doesn’t minister to all of the crying babies, for reasons that the veteran nurse doesn’t share with the novice nurse. The novice nurse doesn’t know why the veteran nurse doesn’t attend to the children, but she has every confidence that there must be a good reason. As a result, the novice nurse is motivated to not minister to all of the crying babies, even though she doesn’t have a specific reason why. Stan’s case is analogous: he doesn’t know what good might be served by not preventing the girl’s suffering, but he is still motivated to inaction by the possibility that such a good exists. 20 Wykstra writes, “[T]he outweighing good at issue is of a special sort: one purposed by the Creator of all that is, whose vision and wisdom are therefore somewhat greater than ours. A modest proposal might be that [God’s] wisdom is to ours, roughly as an adult human’s is to a one-month old infant’s. . .If outweighing goods of the sort at issue exist in connection with instances of suffering, that we should discern most of them seems about as likely as that a one-month old should discern most of his parents’ purposes for those pains they allow him to suffer—which is to say, it is not likely at all.” See Wykstra (1984), pp. 155–156. 21 It is important to note the following. Leaving considerations associated with Providence aside for the moment (which will be addressed below), a skeptical theist believes that in many or most cases there exists a MSR that justifies innocent suffering, but he also holds that it is possible that there are cases of innocent suffering that are not justified by the presence of a MSR, and that morally demand intervention in order to best serve the good. Hence although Stan is committed to the thesis that in many or most cases there exist MSRs that justify innocent suffering, he realizes that it is possible that in some cases no such MSR exists. It is precisely this uncertainty regarding whether a MSR exists in given cases of innocent suffering that creates and sustains the moral aporia, as will be argued.

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Let us rejoin Stan. Stan continues to pause while the girl is molested. Everything that he has been taught by his upbringing and his religious education suggests that he has a moral obligation to help the girl, but he cannot discount the possibility that goodness might be best served in this case by allowing the girl to be molested. Thinking suddenly about the antidote example, Stan worries that his intervention on behalf of the girl might be analogous to that of a concerned brother who, seeing his little sister screaming with pain while receiving the saving antidote shot, rushes forward, pulls out the needle, and breaks it—and in so doing, prevents his sister from receiving the great good that she couldn’t receive in any other way. Above all, Stan wants goodness to be served. The problem is that, given the agnosticism engendered by ST, Stan doesn’t know if goodness is best served by intervening or allowing the suffering to occur. He could be described as being in a state of moral aporia: a state of perplexity caused by his possession of individually plausible but collectively inconsistent moral precepts, viz., (a) “I ought to prevent the molestation of the girl (if I can) and if doing so will lead to goodness being best served,” and (b) “I ought not to prevent the molestation of the girl (if I can) if doing so will lead to goodness being best served.” That Stan is obligated to both (a) and (b) is rooted in Stan’s theistic obligation to do that which best serves the good. More specifically: Stan’s obligation to (a) follows from his Christian obligation to follow the example of Jesus and accordingly prevent evil and suffering as far as possible. That Stan is obligated to (b) follows from his Christian obligation to put his will and action in conformity with the good will of God, even when the goodness being served by a putatively bad act is hidden. The problem could be solved if Stan could know what course of action serves goodness the best. But his very allegiance to ST ensures that he cannot claim to know this, if he is consistent. Stan doesn’t know what he should do. It can easily be seen that this problem of moral aporia regarding how one should act in morally significant situations in which one can prevent innocent suffering can be applied universally. The problem will recur for Stan - or anyone with a sufficiently similar belief set in any case in any case in which he finds that he can intervene to prevent innocent suffering. The general form of such aporia can be given in this way: any moral agent who accepts ST will, when confronting any morally significant situation in which the agent could prevent innocent suffering, be faced with two moral precepts enjoining opposite courses of action: (A) “One ought to prevent the suffering if doing so will lead to goodness being best served,” and (B) “One ought not to prevent the suffering if doing so will lead to goodness being best served.” The agnosticism engendered by ST will make certain that a consistent skeptical theist will never be able to overcome this aporia.22 The practical problem with such moral aporia is that it runs directly counter to the practical teachings of the theistic religions. Christianity teaches its adherents to “love your neighbor as yourself,” which can be plausibly construed as enjoining people of faith not only to do supererogatory acts of kindness and charity for others, but more importantly to help others avoid pain and suffering, just as we would seek to avoid it ourselves. The Ten Commandments clearly prohibit certain actions, and a natural elaboration of this teaching is that believers should seek to prevent those actions from taking place at all, if possible. Furthermore, in the Gospel of John, Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life 22 Note that the practical problem does not entail that the skeptical theist is no longer able to know that the moral obligations propounded by his religion are in fact his moral obligations. The problem arises precisely insofar as the skeptical theist knows that his religious moral obligations are his real obligations, but he also knows that satisfying those obligations can, in certain cases (viz., the prevention of suffering in the innocent), bring about very bad unintended results. The problem might then be described in this way: the skeptical theist knows all his moral obligations, and is correct in this knowledge; but he doesn’t know whether fulfilling those obligations will always best conduce to the good.

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for the sheep.” (John 10:11) As Jesus is a role-model, it stands to reason that his followers should seek to be like him, which involves sacrificing themselves (if not sacrificing one’s life, then at least one’s time and energy) that others may be saved. Jesus’ ministry is filled with examples of Jesus ending the suffering of the innocent and faithful, and the practical teaching of the Christian church mirrors this, by enjoining all believers to give aid to those who need it. It is plausible to suppose that similar teachings are to be found in the Jewish and Islamic religions. What we find in the practical teachings of the theistic religions, then, is that we are called upon—or even strictly obligated—to try to assist those who are suffering and prevent evil whenever and wherever we can do so. The problem for the proponent of ST is that he cannot blithely follow these teachings without some degree of inconsistency with his skeptical belief that in preventing others from suffering, he very well may be preventing them from receiving some great benefit that we cannot conceive but which can only come about as a result of the suffering.23

Objections and responses In response to the moral aporia problem associated with ST, it might be argued that we have good reason to think that, even though there are rare cases in which allowing suffering might be in the sufferer’s best interest, in the majority of cases, we are clearly right to intervene, because we are clearly helping others. After all, it seems clear that in almost all cases, preventing suffering brings about great goods for those who would have experienced the suffering. In the case of Stan and the girl, for example, it seems quite obvious that Stan’s saving the girl from molestation will have a number of evidently beneficial results in both the long and short term: the girl will avoid immediate physical and emotional damage, and may be prevented from incurring long-term psychological harm stemming from the attack. In addition, the molester may be prevented from preying upon innocent children ever again. These are certainly evident and weighty goods resulting from Stan’s intervention, and justify Stan in intervening. This reply, however, suffers from two faults. The first is that the objection doesn’t take the principles of ST seriously. The skeptical theist is committed to the conviction that much or most of the suffering we see is actually in the best interests of the sufferer. To say, then, that in most cases we can see that helping others escape suffering is clearly beneficial is not to take this possibility seriously; and thus it is not to engage the ST position. Secondly, the theist who supports ST has very good reason to conclude that in a massive number of cases it is probable that allowing innocent suffering best serves goodness. The skeptical theist believes that God allows suffering in order to bring about some great benefit to the sufferer which couldn’t have come about any other way. Looking then upon the world and the incredible amount of suffering that it contains—the innumerable daily occurrences of suffering that seem to go unrequited—the skeptical theist must conclude that it is often the case that allowing suffering is the best option in order for benefits we cannot conceive to go to the sufferers. Consider again the case of the novice and veteran nurses. The novice nurse watches the veteran nurse 23 It might be argued in response to the practical problem explored above that it proves too much. More specifically, it might be said that my argument shows that in order for a theist to perform any of her moral obligations, she must know God’s morally sufficient reasons for allowing evil. But note that the practical problem presented only arises in reference to morally significant situations in which an adherent of ST can prevent or stop the suffering of the innocent. It is a non-sequitur to argue that the line of reasoning presented in this paper makes it impossible for a skeptical theist to act in general.

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often ignore the cries and appeals of the babies in the nursery. The novice nurse doesn’t (yet) know why the veteran nurse does this, and it runs against all of the novice nurse’s instincts to let the babies cry, yet the novice nurse supposes that it must conduce to some notable benefit(s), else the veteran nurse wouldn’t do it. So the novice nurse comes to think in a large number of cases that the best thing to be done in response to a crying baby is—nothing. Furthermore, perhaps the most significant—and specifically Christian—case in which allowing innocent suffering to go unrequited because the suffering conduces to a greater good—one which at the time of the event was unknown to almost all—must be the crucifixion of Jesus. Certainly a Christian watching Jesus’ agony during his crucifixion would naturally feel that preventing Jesus’ suffering would best conduce to the good; but in fact a Christian who knew the effect of Jesus’ sacrifice, and the fact that God’s will was being done through Jesus’ sacrifice, would consider herself under a moral obligation to allow the crucifixion to take place without hindrance. With these thoughts in mind, the skeptical theist looks upon the world and sees a great number of cases of apparently unrequited suffering. Believing that it is often the case that for reasons known only to God such suffering is in the best interests of the sufferers, the skeptical theist comes to take seriously the possibility that in many or most cases the best response to suffering is to let it run its course without interference. But perhaps this inference is too hasty. After all, it has been stipulated above that the skeptical theist retains correct knowledge of what is good and what is evil, and suffering, of itself, is certainly evil. Although it may be that in certain cases (viz., the suffering of innocents) suffering is a necessary component in the actualization of a higher good—and thus the suffering is an instrumental good—the skeptical theist can know that suffering itself is an evil, and as such should be prevented. And this, it could be said, provides skeptical theists with the proper reason and motivation to prevent suffering where it is found. Thus the practical problem is averted. The problem with this argument, however, is twofold. First, it stands to reason that the skeptical theist shouldn’t be persuaded by this line of reasoning to always try to prevent suffering at every opportunity, since preventing suffering consistently will almost surely lead to several violations of others’ securing of higher goods (just as, e.g., the novice nurse will, if she picks up every baby that cries, unknowingly cause many babies to lose the higher good of endurance (they will all become spoiled)). Secondly, it doesn’t take full account of that part of ST which concerns skepticism regarding our knowledge of entailment relations between known goods and evils and unknown goods and evils. Just as the suffering of innocents might be related to the actualization of unknown higher goods in a way beyond our ken, preventing the suffering of innocents might be entailed by the actualization of unknown worse evils in a way beyond our ken. If we are to apply our skepticism regarding types of goods/evils and entailment relations between known and unknown goods/evils consistently, we must allow for this possibility. The skeptical theist turns out to be in an even worse position than originally thought: not only must he take into account that his prevention of others’ suffering might, for reasons beyond his ken, prevent their possession of unknown higher goods, he must also take seriously the possibility that the prevention of suffering might, for reasons beyond his ken, entail even worse suffering for the sufferer. As a result, moral aporia has been deepened. A potentially very powerful response to the arguments given against ST still remains to the skeptical theist, however, in the form of a response based on God’s providential care of the world. The skeptical theist may attempt to deny that problems of moral aporia can or will ever arise by arguing that God’s providential care of the world ensures that God can and will prevent would-be Good Samaritans whose actions would have morally undesirable outcomes from being successful at preventing suffering that is connected with the actualization of higher goods for the sufferers. As omniscient, God would know of cases in which the

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intervening actions of would-be Good Samaritans like Stan would prevent innocents from suffering and subsequently receiving the greater goods connected with that suffering; and as omnipotent, God would be able to prevent such occurrences from happening. In the Stan case, for example—assuming that there indeed exists a MSR for the girl to be molested— God might simply arrange it that the girl is molested in a private place where she cannot be rescued; alternatively, God might cause Stan to stay at home rather than go out for his walk through the city. Applied to the world as a whole, God could arrange matters such that all instances of innocent suffering involving redeeming MSRs take place without hindrance. Secure in this knowledge, any theist who finds herself faced with cases in which innocent suffering can be prevented surely should attempt to prevent it, knowing that if there were MSRs which justified the innocent suffering, God would arrange matters so that she would not be in a position to interfere. Against this response it might be counter-argued that such a notion as Providence is flatly incompatible with the core theistic doctrine of free will. After all, if we are forcibly prevented from intervening in order to help innocents who are suffering, in what sense can we say that we are free? God, in order to allow humans to have the capacity for significant exercise of freedom, must allow for the possibility of human action that goes against God’s wishes and the greater good. Indeed, it is precisely this human capacity which has led to so many of the horrendous evils that populate arguments from evil. In this case, it could be argued, the onus is on the theist to show that it is possible for God to influence the choices and actions of humans according to a plan of providence in a way that does not contravene human freedom and yet which does not make it impossible to explain why God does not always do this. And such a response, it could be contended, is simply not forthcoming. The advocate of ST is not so easily silenced, however. A great deal of reflection has gone into making sense of how God can exercise complete providential care over the world (and exercise foreknowledge of free actions) while allowing for free will, and if any of these attempts are successful, we will be able to understand how God can arrange matters so as to avoid unwanted interference with innocent suffering that is redeemed by MSRs while not contravening human free will. Arguably the most plausible such attempt—and the only one that shall be considered at present—was formulated by the 16th century Jesuit Luis de Molina (1535–1600). The Molinist position is essentially this.24 God created humans with genuine free will, according to which God cannot force humans to act in any particular way in response to any circumstances. Yet God exercises divine providence over the world, ordering all of the states of affairs that make up the composition and history of the world down to the last detail, and in addition God plays an active causal role in the world’s history to ensure the exact realization of the providential plan. What makes it possible for God to exercise complete control over the world’s nature and history and yet allow for genuine human freedom is the following. God possesses knowledge of what any person would freely do in any situation in which that person is confronted with any circumstances; thus God would have complete knowledge of all possible facts of the form “If person P were to be placed in circumstances C, then P would freely do A.” It is essential to note that, on this account, the truth of such counterfactuals is independent of God’s will. God does not determine what agents would do freely; rather God knows how agents would or will freely respond to different sets of circumstances. Person P might do A in response to circumstances C, or she might do B, or C, or whatever: the choice is left to the person’s free willing. God knows, however, that given P’s nature, if P is confronted with circumstances C, then P will freely choose action A. God thus 24 For the following exposition of the Molinist position I am heavily indebted to the work of Thomas P. Flint. See Flint (1992).

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possesses “middle knowledge”: knowledge of contingent truths which are true independent of any free act of the divine will. God’s possession of middle knowledge is, according to Molina, the key to integrating divine providence (and foreknowledge) with human freedom. As one contemporary author has described it, Middle knowledge. . .would allow God to exercise sovereign control over his world, for it would inform him as to precisely what kind of world would result from the activity of any set of free creatures and circumstances he might decide to create. By consulting this knowledge, then, God would know which creative actions on his part would lead to the kind of world he desires. 25 If the Molinist solution is correct, then the problem of moral aporia is solved. God uses middle knowledge to craft a world in which circumstances will always be such that agents will freely respond in the manner that God wills; and the manner that God wills will ensure that instances of innocent suffering that are justified by MSRs will suffer no interference, and thus that agents faced with preventable instances of innocent suffering will be able to intervene without aporia, safe in the knowledge that in doing so they are not standing in the way of the actualization of greater goods essentially connected (in some inscrutable way) with that suffering. Moral aporia has thus vanished. It would take the present essay too far afield to consider the array of criticisms of the Molinist account that have been tendered, but, assuming that middle knowledge is indeed possible, two points deserve mention which critically undermine the acceptability of the Molinist solution. As before, in what follows I will restrict my comments to Christian theism in particular. First, it seems to entail an implication regarding God’s goodness that is unacceptable for theists. It is a core element of Christian theism that humans may use their free will for good or for evil. It was in large part precisely the human misuse of free will, according to Christian doctrine, that caused the Fall, instituted Original Sin, and necessitated the purgative effect of the Flood as well as, most notably, the sacrifice of Jesus. In all of these cases, and many more besides, what allows one to make sense of how such tragedies could occur, in opposition to God’s will, is the freedom of humans to choose for good or for ill. Yet if the Molinist account is true, then it was God himself who intentionally arranged circumstances in the world so as to bring about such horrible results. With this in mind, although it could still be argued that humans have a large share in the responsibility for these terrible events, it seems very hard to escape the conclusion that God is also to some extent responsible for them. This seems severely to impugn God’s goodness, both because God is seen as a co-author of precisely the evils that God seeks to nullify, and because God is seen in many cases as punishing his creatures for freely responding to circumstances that God arranged, in which God had foreknowledge that humans would indeed freely so respond. A second problem with the Molinist response concerns whether it truly allows for the robust kind of freedom that the doctrine of free will seems to guarantee. The reason is this: on the Molinist picture, humans retain freedom insofar as it is human free will that determines how persons respond to circumstances; yet insofar as God knows how humans will freely respond to circumstances and crafts natural and historical circumstances so as to ensure certain results, it seems that God determines, at the moment of creation, precisely what course a given life will take. On such a worldview, it seems strained to suppose that humans are substantively free in the robust sense that Christian doctrine teaches. Given the undesirable moral implications contained in the first problem with Molinism, and the undesirable consequences regarding the substantive freedom of humans in the second, it seems that the Molinist solution creates more problems 25 Flint, p. 153.

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than it solves, and should be discarded by Christian theists—and plausibly by all theists—as a way out of the problem of moral aporia associated with ST. It should be noted, however, that if a successful defense of divine providence can be offered—one that makes suitable allowance for human freedom, and avoids variants of the unwanted implications canvassed above—then the problem of moral aporia associated with ST could be solved. A final objection to the moral aporia argument is possible. It could be argued that the argument only works if the proper moral category associated with assessing the problem of evil and its responses is consequentialist in nature. If the proper moral category is rather captured by deontological or divine command theories, then the problem may disappear in the following way. Stan, it could be argued, only faces moral aporia if he is morally required to maximize good (and minimize evil), for it is only within these consequentialist constraints that Stan has to make sure that he chooses that action which maximizes the good; and given that Stan doesn’t know whether this will be achieved through interference or non-interference, he is stuck in moral aporia. Yet if the proper moral category is deontological or associated with divine commands, the aporia might be dissolved; there may be fundamental moral duties that Stan is obligated to discharge that are independent of, and supersede, maximizing considerations. Such duties or commands may include, for example, “Always help those in need,” “Always defend the innocent,” “Fight evil and injustice wherever found,” and so on. Such duties or commands, it could be argued, serve as trumps when determining the demands of moral behavior, in much the same way that Rawls contends that considerations of justice founded on the inviolability of persons serve as trumps over utilitarian considerations in the establishment of principles of justice when choosing among the various arrangements which determine the social division of advantages and for underwriting an agreement on proper distributive shares in society. Moreover, there are good reasons to believe that theistic moralities contain such deontological or divine command commitments. To refer once again to Christian theism specifically, the Ten Commandments seem in many ways to have the status of fundamental duties or commands that are to be discharged regardless of the net benefits that might be accrued by maximizing considerations that suggest otherwise. No amount of expected utility, for example, no matter how deep or widespread, morally justifies taking an innocent life or worshipping deities other than God. Of course there is evidence for consequentialist considerations in theistic moralities as well; but at the very least it could be said that, given that these exist alongside deontological obligations or divine commands, the theist’s moral aporia might be less severe, since certain deontological obligations or divine commands may have evident ascendancy or salience in given morally significant situations. In response it should be noted first that although the tenor of the argumentation in this essay is arguably predominantly consequentialist, formal endorsement of the claim that consequentialist categories are best suited to the determination of morally best outcomes in relation to the problem of evil has been carefully withheld (see footnote 8). ‘Good’ has stood proxy for ‘morally desirable outcome,’ and ‘conducing to the good’ or ‘serving the good’ has stood proxy for ‘bringing about the most morally desirable outcome,’ whether this be best captured by consequentialism, deontology, divine command theory, or any other sort of normative category. So much the better for the objection, it could now be stressed; in allowing for nonconsequentialist categories to have place, the crucial point involved in solving the problem of moral aporia has been conceded. Yet there is a good reason to be suspicious of such a solution, and the key to seeing its force lies in appreciating that the skepticism associated with ST would apply to any normative category whatsoever. Although the notion that deontological obligations trump consequentialist considerations has gained considerable currency amongst many philosophers, it has also been conceded in many quarters that stronger deontological obligations may trump weaker ones when they come into conflict. And when one combines

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this concession with the moral skepticism associated with ST, it must be conceded that, for all we know, there may well exist deontological obligations or divine commands which are beyond our ken and which trump the deontological considerations that one might attempt to use to trump consequentialist considerations and thereby escape the problem of moral aporia. In short, once one has accepted ST, it seems pointless to try to escape the problem of moral aporia by maintaining that non-consequentialist moral considerations can serve as secure points of moral guidance. Consistency demands that the moral skepticism associated with ST must be applied to any and all moral categories, with similar results.

The expansion of moral aporia In this paper I have developed an argument against the employment of skeptical theism that draws upon the unwanted practical implications of that theory. I have described the problem as one of moral aporia, according to which consistent skeptical theists should find themselves unable to discharge the religious duty to prevent the suffering of innocents because of fears that doing so will prevent the actualization of unknown higher goods or cause the actualization of unknown worse evils for those they are seeking to aid. The culprit behind this dilemma is the skeptical theist’s adherence to a doctrine of skepticism regarding the completeness of our knowledge of the realm of value. Concession of the possibility that our awareness of the full range of goods and evils and entailment relations between goods and evils is so limited requires the concession of the possibility of the unfortunate results of interfering with suffering that have been canvassed above. The consistent skeptical theist, sensitive to the religious demand to live so as to best serve the good will of God, finds himself paralyzed by his sensitivity to the full range of possible entailment relations connected to the prevention of suffering, and finds doubts in his reasons for helping the suffering. It is hard to see how a consistent skeptical theist can be conceived as a consistent adherent of any theistic religion; and insofar as this is the case, it is hard to see how a dedicated adherent of any theistic religion could be a skeptical theist. As a final note, I would like to submit that further reflection suggests that the practical problem of moral aporia, though it is most evident in relation to skeptical theism, well might expand to infect theodicy and defense responses to the problem of evil as well. At present I do not wish to take a formal position on this issue, but only suggest ways in which the problem of moral aporia may have wider application. Theodicies seek to dissolve the problem of evil by providing God’s actual reasons or purposes that explain and justify God’s action (or inaction) with respect to the existence of evil. Defenses, on the other hand, are more modest, in that they seek to undercut the problem of evil by suggesting merely possible reasons or purposes that would explain and justify God’s action (or inaction) with respect to evil. The difficulty in respect to either of these responses to the problem of evil is in essence the same as that explored above: namely, that a devout theist who accepts a theodicy or a defense may find himself, when faced with the chance to intervene on behalf of an innocent who is suffering, caught between the practical imperative to prevent that suffering, and the possibility that doing so might prevent the actualization of the greater good (or the prevention of a worse evil) denoted by the theodicy or defense. The acceptance of a theodicy or defense may provide the theist with a more specific or concrete understanding of the outweighing good (or possible outweighing good) that justifies the evil, but the problem of moral aporia seems to remain: is one, in preventing the suffering of an innocent, contravening the actualization of a greater good (or prevention of a worse evil) that justifies and indeed redeems the presence of the evil, and which cannot come about it any other way? The task for one who would seek

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to overcome the problem of moral aporia is to show that it is possible to know always—or at least reliably—when practical intervention on behalf of suffering innocents will and will not have unwanted and possibly disastrous consequences for the well-being of the very persons one wishes to aid.26

References Alston, W. (1996). The inductive argument from evil and the human cognitive condition. In D. Howard-Snyder (Ed.), The evidential argument from evil (pp. 97–125). Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Bergmann, M. (2001). Skeptical theism and Rowe’s new evidential argument from evil. Nous, 35(2), 278–296. Flint, T. (1992). Prophecy, freedom, and middle knowledge. In K. J. Clark (Ed.), Our knowledge of god: Essays on natural and philosophical theology (pp. 151–165). Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers. Gale, R. (1996). Some difficulties in theistic treatments of evil. In D. Howard-Snyder (Ed.), The evidential argument from evil (pp. 206–218). Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Howard-Snyder, D. (1996). The argument from inscrutable evil. In D. Howard-Snyder (Ed.), The evidential argument from evil (pp. 286–310). Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Howard-Snyder, D., Bergmann, M., & Rowe, W. (2001). An exchange on the problem of evil. In W. Rowe (Ed.), God and the problem of evil (pp. 124–158). Oxford: Blackwell Publishers Ltd. Rowe, W. (1979). The problem of evil and some varieties of atheism. American Philosophical Quarterly, 16, 335–341. Russell, B. (1996). Defenseless. In D. Howard-Snyder (Ed.), The evidential argument from evil (pp. 193–205). Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Tooley, M. (1991). The argument from evil. In J. Tomberlin (Ed.), Philosophical perspectives 5: Philosophy of religion (pp. 89–134). Atascadero, CA: Ridgereview Publishing. Wykstra, S. (1984). The humean obstacle to evidential arguments from suffering: On avoiding the evils of ‘appearance.’ International Journal for Philosophy of Religion, 16, 73–94. Wykstra, S. (1996). Rowe’s noseeum arguments from evil. In D. Howard-Snyder (Ed.), The evidential argument from evil (pp. 126–150). Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

26 I would like to thank Professor Eleonore Stump, Jason Reed, and an anonymous reader for the International Journal for Philosophy of Religion for their many helpful comments and suggestions.

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