Friday, February 12, 2010

The Uniformity of Nature

In their deployment of the “transcendental argument for the existence of God,” presuppositionalists often raise the problem of induction as a debating point and demand that non-Christian opponents provide an “account for” the uniformity of nature. The presumption of this strategy is that induction presupposes the uniformity of nature, and its intent is to expose a non-Christian’s failure to provide an “account for” this vital presupposition necessary for inductive reasoning.


The Meaning of “Account For”

Now it is not always clear what exactly the presuppositionalist is looking for when he requires that a non-believer provide an “account for” the uniformity of nature. Some presuppositionalists have indicated that in this context an “account” for something is a logical proof. But in the case of the uniformity of nature, this seems quite an odd thing to expect from anyone, since it can be reasonably held that proof as such presupposes the uniformity of nature. To categorize a line of inference as a “proof” suggests that it is a proof on every day of the week, not just on Tuesdays which happen to fall on a holiday in Laos. Any proof given to satisfy the apologist’s line of inquiry could feasibly be rejected for assuming what is supposed to be proved.

It may be that the apologist is asking the non-believer to identify the cause of nature’s uniformity. But here again, pointing to any specific cause which makes nature uniform would be vulnerable to the charge of circularity, since it could reasonably be postulated that causation as such presupposes the uniformity of nature. If the non-believer were to attempt an answer to the presuppositionalist’s inquiry by pointing to something which causes nature to be uniform, he could again be charged with circular reasoning for appealing to a law whose persistence itself requires the very thing he’s been called to provide an “account for.” If an “account” is understood in this way, it seems unreasonable to require it from anyone, regardless of his stance on theism.

Alternatively, presuppositionalists may characterize the challenge to “account for” the uniformity of nature as a request to present a “logical warrant” or “rational justification” for assuming that nature is uniform, thus presumably broadening the challenge beyond the need to present a formal proof or identify the cause of nature’s uniformity. Of course, this would in turn broaden the range of viable candidates which can satisfy the challenge, which may in turn pose certain subsequent challenges for the apologist. By expanding the latitude of the meaning of “account” in such a manner, the apologist widens the possibilities of acceptable contenders. But with this broadening may also come ambiguity which, it seems, needs some tightening down in order to clarify what exactly is being requested of the non-Christian, and to make clear at the outset what validly constitutes an “account for” the uniformity of nature, and what could not. After all, it is clear from the context of the controversy which the presuppositionalist intends to stoke, that appeals to an invisible magic being constitute, in his mind, a valid approach to settling the matter.

Then again, as we venture into this matter, it may be wise to bear in mind the possibility that presuppositionalism is essentially geared toward entrapping non-Christians, perhaps in the hopes of scoring a debating point rather than clarifying some genuinely mysterious philosophical issue. It should be no secret that presuppositionalism has a predatory agenda. It may seem to be the case, and possibly for good reason, that the apologist is deliberately seeking to corner the non-Christian into producing a question-begging “account” so that the apologist can say “Ah ha! Gotcha!” The situation grows even more suspect when we remember that presuppositionalists themselves “prefer to reason in a circle to not reasoning at all” (Cornelius Van Til, A Survey of Christian Epistemology, p. 12), suggesting that there really is no alternative to tail-chasing petitios. Apologists of this school seem, however, to reserve this excuse exclusively for themselves, while citing circularity as a fatal error for their opponents’ position if and when they are charged with this.


Uniformity and Metaphysical Primacy

Because the issue of metaphysical primacy is the most fundamental concern in all philosophy, the first item to address in considering the question of how one “accounts for” the uniformity of nature is not whether or not nature’s uniformity entails theism or atheism per se, nor would I say that trifling over what exactly the presuppositionalist means by “account for” will be very productive (good luck getting him to commit to a clear meaning here). Rather, the controversy here first needs to be understood in terms of metaphysical primacy. Specifically, if it is agreed that nature is in fact uniform, does the uniformity of nature presuppose the primacy of existence, or does it presuppose the primacy of consciousness? Is nature uniform independent of anyone’s thoughts, feelings, wishes, commands or temper tantrums? Or, does the fact that nature is uniform depend on some form of conscious activity?

This is the central question to be considered before all others: is consciousness involved in “making” nature uniform, or is nature uniform on its own, regardless of what consciousness does?

As an Objectivist, my answer to this question is that nature is uniform on its own, independent of anyone’s conscious activity. A person can deny the uniformity of nature, but nature remains uniform all the same, in spite of such denials. This means that if no consciousness exists, the entities which do exist still act according to their natures. This is the view consistent with the axioms “existence exists,” ”to exist is to be something” (i.e., to have identity), and “entities act according to their natures” independent of consciousness.

In his discussion on the problem of induction, presuppositionalist Brian Knapp speaks of the need to have a “logical justification for doing something” (“Induction and the Unbeliever,” The Portable Presuppositionalist, p. 124), including presumably assuming that nature is uniform, and asks “Why do you believe nature is uniform, and how is that belief rationally justified?” (Ibid.). But to speak of rationally justifying a position, what can one mean other than justifying that position in accordance to reason? Reason is the faculty by which an individual identifies and integrates the objects of his perception. This faculty presupposes the metaphysical primacy of existence – i.e., the view that the objects of one’s consciousness exist and are what they are independent of the conscious activity by which he is aware of them.

But this does not seem at all consistent with what presuppositionalism affirms.


The Presuppositionalist Approach

The standard presuppositionalist “justification” for the premise that nature is uniform is quite different from the Objectivist view that nature is inherently uniform independent of conscious activity. While presuppositional apologists often make a big deal about “accounting for” the uniformity of nature, they exhibit no concern for the issue of metaphysical primacy. On the contrary, presuppositionalism is exclusively concerned with advancing the view that the uniformity of nature is theistically caused. Specifically, it affirms the existence of a supernatural conscious being
who has created the universe in which we live (Gen. 1:1, Col. 1:16), and who sovereignly maintains it as we find it to be (Heb. 1:3)… This God has a plan for his creation (Eph. 1:11), not the least part of which is revealing himself to it (Rom. 1:19-20). Part of this revelation involves creating and sustaining the universe in such a way that his creatures are able to learn about it and function within it (Gen. 8:22). (Brian Knapp, “Induction and the Unbeliever,” The Portable Presuppositionalist, p. 132)
Although presuppositionalists can be expected to insist that this “account for” the uniformity of nature has not “simply ‘moved the problem’ by introducing God into the equation” (Ibid., p. 135), it seems that this is precisely all that such appeals ultimately accomplish. The claim that a being “has created the universe in which we live… and… sovereignly maintains it as we find it to be,” amounts to the view that the uniformity of nature is a product of some prior cause. This assumes the continuity of any causal process by which said being allegedly accomplishes these tasks. In other words, the “justification” for the premise that nature is uniform proposed by presuppositionalism assumes the uniformity of nature from the get go.

It is unhelpful to the presuppositionalist case for apologists to seek exemption from the applicability of a law of nature – and therefore, by implication, the uniformity of nature – in their proposed solution by pointing to their god’s “supernatural” character, for however they wish to conceive of their god, they are unable to escape the causal implications embedded in their proposed justification. Essentially they are saying that their god causes nature to be uniform, and are thus invoking a natural law – namely the law of causality - even if they wish to refer to it by some other name. The presuppositionalist appeal to theism, then, to “account for” the uniformity of nature, assumes the very thing that this appeal is supposed to explain, and is thus an instance of reasoning in a circle. As Brian Knapp himself explains:
To reason in a circle is to assume the very thing you are attempting to demonstrate. (Ibid., p. 126)
Knapp holds that circular reasoning “is just as devastating as the arbitrariness of one who has no answer at all” (Ibid., p. 125), and thus any explanation of the uniformity of nature which incorporates such fallacy is to be rejected.

In order to maintain a theistic “account for” the uniformity of nature here, the only alternative to circular reasoning would be to commit the fallacy of the stolen concept. This would be the case if the presuppositionalist denies that his proposed explanation of the uniformity of nature is circular on the grounds that his god’s creation of the universe and maintenance of its consistent functioning is in effect causeless, in an attempt to avoid invoking a law of nature – namely causality - as the mechanism by which his god allegedly accomplishes its feat of sovereignty over the universe. But this too is a dead end for the presuppositionalist, for he is still affirming that the uniformity of nature throughout the universe is the result of some action taken on the part of his god, and causality is essentially the identity of action. The dead give-away here is that the presuppositionalist is in fact naming the actions of his god – specifically “creating” and “maintaining” its creation – which result in nature being uniform. This would-be rebuttal, then, would in effect affirm acts of creation and maintenance (i.e., actions which have identity) while denying their genetic root, namely causality, of which the actions which presuppositionalists attribute to their god are merely species. Causality, it should be noted, is essentially “the law of identity applied to action” (Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged, Galt’s Speech). To name an action (as the presuppositionalist does in his “account”) is to acknowledge that the action in question does in fact have identity.

Now the presuppositionalist may object to any of this by insisting that the causality by which his god affects uniformity in nature is not natural causality, but rather “supernatural causality,” and therefore that appeals to “supernatural causality” do not presuppose or depend on the uniformity of nature as necessary precondition. This maneuver assumes that there is, between causality as we know it (that is, causality as a natural law – as “the law of identity applied to action”) and so-called “supernatural causality,” some distinction which relevantly bears on the issue at hand in a manner that is sufficient to alleviate the tensions exposed above. It is thus incumbent upon the apologist who invokes this disclaimer to explain this supposed distinction and make the case for immunity to the charges of circular reasoning and/or the stolen concept fallacy. Indeed, what exactly is “supernatural causality,” and how is it different from natural causality? If causality is essentially the law of identity applied to action, and the presuppositionalist implicitly acknowledges that the actions he attributes to his god (“creates” and “maintains”) in fact have identity (which he does simply by naming them), how are these actions beyond the scope of natural law if by natural law we ultimately mean that the law of identity applies? Blank out.

As suspected above, the solution which presuppositionalism proposes does in fact seem to accomplish nothing more than to move the problem back a step rather than actually addressing it (insofar as it can be said that there is a problem here in the first place). By referencing “supernatural causality” as opposed to “natural causality” as the means by which his god allegedly created and maintains the order of the universe in a uniform manner, the presuppositionalist is implying a uniformity of “super-nature,” especially in the claim that his god “maintains” (or “sustains”) the order of the universe, as this action would be continuous (even if not eternal), rather than merely a single gesture. The apologist is essentially saying that “supernatural causality” is today as it has been in the past and will be in the future, thus presupposing a principle of uniformity prior to nature. But what accounts for this uniformity of “super-nature” which underlies the presuppositionalist’s appeal to a god in order to “account for” the uniformity of nature? Where is the presuppositionalist’s “justification” for this principle of uniformity on which his justification for order in the universe relies and without which his “account” could have no philosophical substance?

Of course, since the presuppositionalist appeals to a god as both the creator of the universe and as the sustainer of uniformity in nature, he likely means by “supernatural causality” (or whatever motor he has in mind behind the creating and sustaining his god is allegedly responsible for) some form of conscious activity to make these things happen, as if by wishing. At the very least, the presuppositionalist should make it explicitly clear whether or not he thinks that his god creates and sustains by means of an act of consciousness, and if so, how we can distinguish this act of consciousness from something akin to mere wishing. In other words, the presuppositionalist needs to come clean about his position’s commitment to the primacy of consciousness in his “account for” the uniformity of nature. Since an appeal to theism in order to account for the uniformity of nature essentially signifies the view that the uniformity of nature rests on the primacy of consciousness, it is this presupposition which the presuppositionalist needs to justify. But this would entail arguing for the view that the uniformity of nature finds its basis in subjectivism: the uniformity of nature is the result of some conscious action (see here and here).

Some direct questions may help eliminate some of the presuppositionalist’s standard obfuscations:
1. Is nature uniform? (Yes or no)
2. If no, we would likely have an instance of the fallacy of the stolen concept, for a denial of the uniformity of nature would have to assume that nature is uniform in order for that denial to make sense.
3. If yes , is nature uniform independent of consciousness, or is nature’s uniformity a product of conscious activity?
4. If nature is uniform independent of consciousness, the uniformity of nature cannot imply theism.
5. If it is thought that nature’s uniformity is a product of conscious activity, why suppose that such an overt appeal to subjectivism is at all philosophically impressive?
Involved with the presuppositionalist strategy is the tacit assumption that the principle of the uniformity of nature is the end-all and be-all of induction, that the uniformity of nature is equivalent to the so-called “inductive principle.” (This habit is common outside of presuppositionalist circles as well, which is probably where presuppositionalists get it in the first place.) If it can be proven that nature is uniform, so the implicit reasoning goes, then induction is justified. Of course, this approach takes for granted – and leaves completely uninvestigated – all the activity which the human mind performs in the activity we call inductive reasoning. It rests all of induction’s validity on whether or not nature is uniform and how one “accounts for” this. This tendency fails to recognize that while the uniformity of nature is a metaphysical concern, the justification of induction is an epistemological issue. Sadly, those who take the presuppositionalist approach are missing much of the story.

Often coupled with this gaff is the inclination to think of natural laws as phenomena that are in some way independent of the universe and to which the universe must somehow adhere or conform in order for those laws to apply within the universe and thereby serve as reliable principles upon which our reasoning rests. This understanding itself has no objective basis, and in fact invites the fallacies which typically accompany the primacy of consciousness. Implicit in this view may be, for instance, the notion that the laws existed first, then the contents of the universe, and then the contents of the universe (which on their own would be utterly mired in chaos) are compelled by some external force to comply with those laws. Presuppositional apologetics seeks to exploit such assumptions by making the laws of nature extra-universal, otherworldly, indeed “supernatural.” For instance, observe the following statement by Brian Knapp:
In the Christian’s worldview, at least from the Reformed perspective, laws are not so much “natural” as they are “supernatural”. They are an expression of the way in which God providentially orders his creation, rather than something that is “built-in” which operate on their own and independent from God. [sic] (“Induction and the Unbeliever,” The Portable Presuppositionalist, p. 121n.4)
On Knapp’s view, the natural laws describe “the way in which God providentially orders his creation.” But how would anyone be able to acquire knowledge of “the way in which God providentially orders his creation,” if said “God” is a mind distinct from the believer’s own mind? As the believer imagines his god, his mind departs from reality in radical fashion. When he ascribes the course of nature to the handling of a being which he can only imagine, the believer ignores the constraints of rational epistemology (which addresses the how of his knowledge), because he is no longer speaking from knowledge, but from imagination. This is why the believer can speak of “the way in which God providentially orders his creation” as if he were intimately familiar with the universe of details which such cosmic handling of the contents of the universe would entail. It essentially represents the believer attributing what he takes completely for granted (and does not understand philosophically) to the activity of a being which resides only in his own imagination.

Objectivism does not share the view expressed by Knapp as it (Objectivism) does not grant the assumption that the laws of nature are somehow independent of the universe. I have already discussed at length the Objectivist axioms and their role in anchoring human cognition to reality (see for instance my essay The Axioms and the Primacy of Existence). But it may still be unclear how they relate to the laws of nature.

Nor does Objectivism grant objective validity to the notion of the “supernatural” (see here). The laws of nature are not divine commands on the contents of the universe, nor are they rules which the objects literally obey in an effort to remain in good standing with “the Lord.” On the contrary, the laws of nature are conceptual integrations, and as such they are general identifications based on perceptual input (as all concepts are ultimately). They represent discoveries of facts which are integrated into open-ended principles which can be applied to all particulars of a certain class. They do not originate from outside the universe, for they are based on facts which obtain within the universe and which are discovered and integrated by minds which also exist in the universe. There is no “outside the universe” to begin with. There is the universe (the sum total of all that exists), and there is what we imagine.


The Meaning of “the Uniformity of Nature”

But what specifically do we mean by the term “uniformity of nature”? Not all conceptions of the uniformity of nature are created equal. Presuppositional apologist Greg Bahnsen tends to conceive of the uniformity of nature as “the resemblance between events that we have experienced and events that we have not experience” (Van Til’s Apologetic: Readings & Analysis, p. 342n.167), thus holding to an “event-based” model in which “resemblance” (presumably, how something appears to an observer) conjoins that which has been experienced with that which has not been experienced.

On the one hand, Bahnsen’s conception of the uniformity of nature, given the central role he gives to “resemblance” and “experience,” does not lend itself very well to the supposition that nature is uniform independent of conscious activity. The viewpoint of the observer seems to have a lot of sway in the matter, and it needs to be clarified whether uniformity in nature obtains independent of consciousness, or if conscious activity is a preconditional consideration. Of course, this does not concern Bahnsen, and making such clarifications would likely be counterproductive to his apologetic ambitions.

On the other hand, Bahnsen’s view seems conspicuously well geared toward positioning apologists in the vantage of criticizing opponents. For how can two things be said to share a “resemblance” unless (and until) they can be compared side by side? And how can two “events” be compared side by side unless they have both already occurred? But isn’t that the whole point behind the principle of the uniformity of nature – namely to provide an objective basis for expecting that things which are not available to be compared to what has already been experienced, will operate in a manner similar to what has been experienced?

Brian Knapp presents a somewhat different rendering:
Nature must proceed to operate according to the same laws it has operated according to in the past – laws which determine the effects which arise from a given cause or set of causes. (Op. cit., p. 121)
Here we see the implicit notion that the contents of the universe “obey” (either volitionally or by some means of compulsion) the laws of nature, since it is “laws which determine the effects which arise from a given cause or set of causes.” If this is stated metaphorically, then it may not be problematic. But if it is understood literally, it invites the primacy of consciousness. Again, it is unclear on this conception whether or not the uniformity of nature is understood to obtain independently of consciousness, or if it is supposed to be something which is put into place by means of conscious activity.

What’s also noticeable in Knapp’s statement here is that it seems absolute: “Nature must proceed to operate according to the same laws it has operated to in the past…” The way that it is stated here does not seem to allow for exceptions. This, we will find, is not what Christianity really teaches when it comes to the uniformity of nature.

Both Bahnsen and Knapp ultimately agree, however, that the Christian god is the proper (or “only”) answer to the question “How do you account for the uniformity of nature?” But in pointing to the Christian god, believers are, in terms of essentials, claiming that the uniformity of nature is a product of conscious activity. It seems, however, that by supposing there is a consciousness which has the power to cause nature to be uniform, they are also granting that said consciousness also has the power to cause (or “allow”) nature to be chaotic. Since “God controls whatsoever comes to pass” (Van Til, The Defense of the Faith, p. 160), Christianity puts everything which takes place within nature entirely in the hands of a supernatural mind which is imagined to be completely free from the constraints of nature. Indeed, as the Christian worldview itself explicitly teaches, miracles can and sometimes do happen. The water in your drinking glass can be water one moment, and then magically transformed into merlot the next (cf. John 2:1-11). In the final analysis, since everything that happens is up to the will of an invisible magic being, predictable outcomes are as much a crap shoot as are miracles. As Knapp puts it, “In a very real sense, all events in the universe are ultimately supernatural events as God is personally behind each and every one of them” (Op. cit., p. 139). The believer, then, is to imagine that his god is “personally behind each and every” event which occurs in the universe, which can only mean – in the context of a worldview which takes such imaginations seriously – that the uniformity of nature (to the extent that nature is at all uniform in the first place) is the result of conscious activity. In other words, the uniformity of nature, on the Christian view, presupposes the primacy of consciousness.

Knapp’s response to the objection that on the Christian view nature could be chaotic as much as it is uniform, is that such objection could be “sound only if [Christian theism] assumes that nature is absolutely uniform, which it does not” (The Portable Presuppositionalist, p. 140). Indeed, by conceding that, on the Christian view, nature is not absolutely uniform, then nature might as well not be supposed to be uniform at all (since exceptions to uniformity are granted as legitimate possibilities), and consequently all bets are off: there is no reliable basis for expecting future events to “resemble” those of the past (which is the presuppositionalist’s own measure for understanding whether or not nature is uniform). The ruling consciousness can make it such that glass shatters into dozens of broken shards when struck with a hammer one moment, and that it turns into a flock of geese under the same conditions the next. What Christian would deny its god the power to bring about such outcomes? Indeed, they claim that their god is omnipotent and can bring about any imaginable outcome. But how does this “account for” the uniformity in nature which we observe on a constant basis? Blank out.

Once nature’s “behavior” is placed in the hands of a consciousness which is supposed to possess the power to “control whatsoever comes to pass,” anything can happen. Uniformity is a once-in-a-million chance. The fact that nature is uniform, only demonstrates that there is no rational basis to put any stock in the presuppositionalist’s “account for” the uniformity of nature which is clearly observed.

As one non-Christian succinctly put it:
I believe that there is consistency in the universe because there is no god that has the power to mess with it. (See The Contra-Pike Files, May 10, 2003)
Indeed, if there is no invisible magic being which has the ability to manipulate the objects populating the universe according to its will, the objects in the universe can be reasonably expected to behave in a manner consistent with their own natures. In this way, the uniformity of nature logically implies an alternative which is not theistic in nature.


The Objective Alternative

On the Objectivist view, the notion of the uniformity of nature seems to be unnecessarily redundant.

Peikoff explains what is meant by the concept ‘nature’ as follows:
What is nature? Nature is existence—the sum of that which is. It is usually called “nature” when we think of it as a system of interconnected, interacting entities governed by law. So “nature” really means the universe of entities acting and interacting in accordance with their identities. (The Philosophy of Objectivism, (1976) Lecture 2)
“Nature is existence,” says Peikoff. And he is right to say this. The uniformity of nature, then, is existence being itself. As Rand succinctly put it, “Existence is Identity” (Atlas Shrugged, Galt’s Speech). Nature is uniform with itself, since to exist is for something to be itself. If A exists, it must be A.

The uniformity of nature, then, is essentially the applicability of the axiom of existence to all of reality and the absolute (i.e., exceptionless) concurrence of identity with existence. Both of these aspects of the uniformity of nature are undeniable – that is, they cannot be denied without self-contradiction. Since reality is the realm of existence, the axiom of existence necessarily applies to all of reality. Since reality is the realm of existence, existence and identity are concurrent absolutely - i.e., without exception.

In this way we can confidently say that nature is inherently uniform (since existence exists, to exist is to be something, and nature, since it exists, is therefore itself), and that it is such independent of consciousness. Uniformity is not a property which consciousness injects into nature, nor is it the manner in which consciousness regulates nature since:
a) consciousness does not regulate nature (the primacy of existence is true), and
b) nature is self-regulating (per the law of identity).
Since nature is uniform independent of consciousness (the primacy of existence tells us this), nature is uniform independent of any particular being’s consciousness. This means that, if consciousness is to know that nature is uniform, it must discover this fact, not “create” or “cause” it. Uniformity is not a property which consciousness gives to nature, nor is it something consciousness causes in nature.

Moreover, since discovery is a process which begins with perception (i.e., with direct awareness of objects which exist), one must discover the fact that nature is uniform through experience. Man discovered, at least on an implicit level, that nature is uniform long before he wrote any storybooks or mused about what lies beyond the universe. Such activities presuppose the uniformity of nature. So we need not consult some storybook to learn, even on the level of implicit knowledge, that nature is uniform. This knowledge would be accessible to us, even if we had no access to any storybooks. Reading the bible, then, is no precondition for recognizing that nature is uniform with itself.

Notice that this conception of the uniformity of nature is immune to the charge of circular reasoning. For one, it is not an attempt to prove that nature is uniform as the conclusion to an argument. Also, this conception of the uniformity of nature does not make it dependent upon experience. Rather, it’s the other way around: experience depends on the uniformity of nature (since experience, as the actual relation between a subject and the objects of its awareness, exists and is therefore a part of nature, and thus has identity), since experience is processional over time. It is not an appeal to experience, but rather to the preconditions of experience as such.

Moreover, this conception of the uniformity of nature is impervious to the standard attacks, common among presuppositional apologists, which seek to defuse attempted justification of induction by assuming that future experience will be like (or will “resemble”) past experience by appealing to past experiences. For one, it is forthrightly acknowledged that this conception of the uniformity of nature does not tell the whole story behind induction. The uniformity of nature is merely one of several factors involved in induction. Also, the uniformity of nature is a precondition not only of experience (as we saw above) but also of concepts designating temporal categories (such as ‘past’ vs. ‘future’). The fact of existence is timeless, and consequently, so is identity.

Note that the Objectivist conception of the uniformity of nature is not an appeal to “experience,” but rather to the preconditions of any experience, namely those facts named explicitly by the axioms, facts without which no experience could be possible. Even to dispute the premise that nature is uniform, itself requires the uniformity of nature in order to make sense of the dispute in the first place.


Is the Uniformity of Nature a Matter of Faith?

As mentioned in the beginning of this blog, the uniformity of nature is not itself subject to proof, for proof presupposes the uniformity of nature. Attempts to prove the uniformity of nature would commit either the fallacy of begging the question (by assuming the truth of what is to be proven) or the fallacy of the stolen concept (by placing proof prior to its genetic roots). This of course does not mean that one must accept the uniformity of nature on faith. To suppose as much is to accept as false dichotomy: a claim can only be accepted on the basis of proof, or on the basis of faith. This is not the first time I’ve seen this bifurcation. In his review of John Robbins’ critique of Objectivism, philosopher Bryan Register encounters this same mistake and offers an eloquent correction:
Robbins asserts that reason always relies on faith: "Reason can never cease to be the handmaid of faith: All thought must start somewhere, and that initial postulate is unproved, by definition... . The only question that remains is, Which faith-which axiom-shall reason serve?" Since Objectivism is grounded on a set of axioms, which are by definition unprovable, Robbins concludes that Objectivism rests on an act of faith in those axioms. But this assumes that there are only two kinds of claims: those one proves and those which one takes on faith. In fact, as the Objectivist literature makes clear, there is a third type of claim: one which is valid because it formulates a fact that is directly perceived. Such are the most fundamental perceptual judgments and such are the axioms.
Uniformity, then, is not something we merely expect, as if we had no rational basis, but something we actually observe. However, it is typically when our expectations of certain outcomes are thwarted that we question the validity of those expectations. But the cause for questioning our expectations turns out not to be a cause for questioning the uniformity of nature, not simply because investigating why our expectations were thwarted uncovers factors which we were not aware of (and thus could not factor into our expectations), but also (and primarily) because existence holds metaphysical primacy. The recognition that factors which we did not know had an influence on what actually happened, only confirms the more fundamental recognition that nature is uniform independent of consciousness: those factors exist and had their influence on the given state of affairs, even though we were not aware of them. They had a causal impact on what occurred, and the very concept ‘cause’ presupposes the law of identity (since, as pointed out above, causality is the law of identity applied to action). So merely because our expectations did not pan out, is not an indictment on the uniformity of nature, nor on the objective understanding of the uniformity of nature.


Confusion in Presuppositionalism

Presuppositionalism essentially tells us that we cannot know that nature is uniform (even though we observe a uniform nature directly whenever we perceive it), but that we do and cannot fail to know a god which allegedly lies behind the question mark which our worldview allegedly produces when it comes to “accounting for” the uniformity of nature. On this view, I can observe the uniformity of nature firsthand, and cannot know that nature is uniform, while I cannot observe a supernatural deity, but allegedly cannot escape the knowledge that it surely exists. This reversal of reality creates a most hideous carnival out of man’s epistemology.

But the confusion does not stop there.

Upon examination, it is difficult to see how Knapp’s proposed solution to the problem of induction actually solves it. In fact, it is unclear exactly how appealing to the Christian god can serve as a serious proposal in the interest of “accounting for” or providing a “logical justification” of the uniformity of nature.

Knapp claims that the universe in which we live was created by a supernatural conscious being, and that this supernatural conscious being “maintains it as we find it to be” (The Portable Presuppositionalist, p. 132). Even if one believes this, it in no way indicates that the universe is being maintained in a uniform manner. It would only tell us that, however the universe behaves, it is controlled by a supernatural conscious being. When it is admitted that this same supernatural conscious being is capable of, and known for, performing miracles - events which often (and overtly) go against the standard understanding of uniformity in nature – it can only undermine this approach as a means of “accounting for” uniformity: it guarantees no uniformity whatsoever! On this view, any uniformity which happens to obtain, is a fluke. Indeed, it is for this very reason that, after all his promoting of Christian theism as the solution to the problem of induction, Knapp concedes that Christian theism does not hold that nature is “absolutely uniform” (p. 140).

To make matters even worse, the individual who “finds” the universe to be a certain way when he observes and interacts with it, is dealing with only a minuscule portion of the universe. On the Christian view, inferring that all of the universe is “maintained” in a uniform manner is a wild overgeneralization, an extravagant leap of faith which Christian theism itself does not afford any believer. If, for instance, the believer happens to find that the tiny part of the universe with which he is familiar behaves in a uniform manner, this in no way tells him that his god is maintaining the rest of the universe in a uniform manner, or that any hypothetical uniformity in other parts of the universe are uniform with the uniformity with which he is familiar in his particular location. Given the premise that everything is controlled by a supernatural being, it may be the case that in the believer’s part of the universe, balls uniformly roll over plane surfaces, while in another part of the universe balls uniformly turn into marching bands upon impact with plane surfaces. How would the believer in such a being know? Knapp gives no indication of how the epistemological feats needed here might proceed.

But in spite of the self-undermining factors inherent in Christian doctrine, as well as Knapp’s own damning admission, he still thinks that the Christian metaphysics of a universe-creating, reality-ruling consciousness address’s Hume’s philosophical conundrum, even though he points to additional weaknesses native to his worldview which undermine inductive reasoning even further. He writes:
As simple as this solution seems, it contains all the necessary elements to solve the problem. The areas in which mankind fall short are all “made up for” in God. Man does not have exhaustive knowledge of how the universe operates; God does. Man does not know whether the features of the universe will continue to be as they are at present; God does. Man can be mistaken in what he experiences and how he reasons from those experiences; God is never wrong. (“Induction and the Unbeliever,” The Portable Presuppositionalist, p. 134)
Contrary to what he intends, Knapp is simply giving us reasons why Christianity cannot give us any confidence in the presupposition that nature is uniform throughout the universe. He has in effect abandoned the problem of induction, which is ostensibly the topic of his essay, and moved on to a new problem, namely that of how one can know what a supernatural conscious being knows. It is of no epistemological value for man to list things that he does not know, and then point to a supernatural being which does have knowledge on these things. This does not tell man how he can know what he needs to know in order to live. It is epistemological self-deception to concede, on the one hand, that one does not know something, only to claim, on the other, that this ignorance is “made up for” by an imaginary friend which is said to know everything. When it comes to the uniformity of nature, Knapp demonstrates only that, on the Christian worldview, one could have no confidence that nature is uniform. Everything is “whatever God wills,” and unless the believer is identical to his god, he would have no way of knowing what his god wills from moment to moment.

Moreover, on the points which he mentions, Knapp does not even tell us what specifically his god supposedly knows about these matters. When Knapp states that “Man does not know whether the features of the universe will continue to be as they are in the present,” but figures that the assertion “God does” somehow makes up for this shortcoming, what exactly does his god know, and what good does that do for man in his inductive investigation of the universe if he cannot know it? Blank out. For all Knapp knows, his god could know that the universe will turn inside out in the next second. But since Knapp’s mind is not identical to his god’s mind, simply saying that his god knows something that he does not know, is of no use to him or to anyone else, particularly when it comes to answering Hume. On the contrary, Knapp’s attempted “solution” fully concedes that Christianity has no genuine solution, not only because he fails to question Hume’s own premises, but also because he fails, due to his allegiance to a subjective worldview, to adopt an objective approach to the matter in the first place. If Knapp proves anything, he proves that Christianity can only intensify the epistemological darkness which Hume’s skepticism brought to the world.


Conclusion

The presuppositionalist “account for” the uniformity of nature is a consummate dead end. It seeks to premise the uniformity of nature on the primacy of consciousness, which is a false metaphysics. Given this, it is incompatible with the objective account of the uniformity of nature, which recognizes that nature is uniform independent of conscious activity. Furthermore, the presuppositionalist analysis is insufficient to overcome the destructive implications which Christianity, with its doctrine of a supernatural being controlling the events of the universe, the doctrine of miracles, its blinding absence of a serious epistemology, etc., poses for the recognition that nature is uniform. By aligning the uniformity of nature with the Christian worldview, presuppositionalism essentially signs its own death warrant as a viable contender in providing an “account for” the one of the fundamental pillars of a scientific understanding of the universe.

by Dawson Bethrick

Saturday, February 06, 2010

How Theism Violates the Primacy of Existence


Introduction


Recognizing the antithesis between the primacy of existence and the primacy of consciousness is a virtue for which only Objectivism seems prepared to equip a person, while other philosophies tend to ignore or evade the matter. Objectivism is the only philosophy that I know of which not only identifies the primacy of existence explicitly as a fundamental philosophical concern, but which also purposefully develops its metaphysics, epistemology, morality and politics in a manner consistent with the primacy of existence as an ultimate guiding principle.

Occasionally I am asked, by atheists and theists alike, why I would say that theism violates the primacy of existence. That theism does in fact violate the primacy of existence is so obvious to me that it is puzzling that anyone would need to have it explained. But then I realize that, for many years now, I’ve understood the issue of metaphysical primacy and its implications for theism and every other position under the sun, and not everyone else benefits from this understanding. It is this understanding that I wish to share with my readers.

To understand why theism violates the primacy of existence, we must first understand what is meant by the primacy of existence. And in order to appreciate fully what the primacy of existence means, we must understand the issue of metaphysical primacy.

The Issue of Metaphysical Primacy

The issue of metaphysical primacy has to do with the relationship between consciousness and its objects. Since all philosophy involves consciousness relating to objects (either real or imagined), the issue of metaphysical primacy bears on all philosophical principles, viewpoints and initiatives. Because consciousness is involved throughout the establishment and development of philosophical principles, the relationship between consciousness and its objects is not some sidebar distraction or marginal curiosity of trivial interest. Ignoring the relationship between consciousness is not an option for serious thinkers, especially once the question of the proper orientation of this relationship has been raised.

Essentially, the issue of metaphysical primacy asks:
What holds metaphysical primacy in the relationship between a consciousness and its objects: the subject of consciousness, or the objects of consciousness?
For a moment, some may entertain the notion that this question is fallaciously complex, perhaps supposing that it assumes a false dichotomy. Why suppose that either the subject of consciousness or its objects must hold metaphysical primacy? Can’t both be metaphysical equals? Can’t both the subject of consciousness and its objects enjoy metaphysical primacy, just as two individuals taking a test can both score 100% on it?

Such questions may imply that the subject of consciousness and its objects are locked in some sort of contest, with one side vying against the other, and that the issue of metaphysical primacy is an attempt to pick a winner among the two contestants arbitrarily. Either that, or they simply ignore the root of the matter that the issue of metaphysical primacy is getting at, namely identifying the proper relationship between a subject and its objects.

It is an undeniable fact that a subject is distinct from the objects of its awareness: a subject and its objects are not one and the same – the two are engaged in a relationship. Consciousness is consciousness of an object. Also, a subject does not switch sides with the objects of its awareness, as if they could trade places at will and reverse the natural orientation between the one and the other. When you perceive a rock, a chair, or the Golden Gate Bridge, you cannot suddenly become that rock or chair or bridge and look back at yourself as a perceiver. Consciousness is consciousness of an object(s), and the orientation between consciousness and its object(s) is uni-directional, and there’s no reversing this orientation. A person cannot transfer his consciousness to his objects, such that he becomes the object of his consciousness, and the subject of his consciousness is now what used to be its object. The relationship between a subject and its objects is contextually static.

Additionally, the relationship between a subject and its objects is not a relationship of equals. The subject is distinct from its objects, and the subject has certain abilities and capacities which its objects qua objects do not have in the context of their relationship together, even if some of those objects happen to be other conscious individuals (i.e., other persons). When you perceive a mountain or pair of scissors, it is you as the subject who is perceiving these objects. In the context of this relationship, the subject attends to its objects.

Another option, chosen (albeit implicitly) by most philosophies, is to suppose that the subject of consciousness holds metaphysical primacy over its objects. This is known as the primacy of consciousness, or as the primacy of the subject metaphysics, since it grants metaphysical primacy to the subject of consciousness over its objects. This is the view that the objects of consciousness conform to the subject of consciousness, that the subject of consciousness holds the “upper hand” in its relationship with the objects of its awareness. The primacy of consciousness entails that the objects of one’s awareness depend in some way on the subject of awareness, either for their very existence (e.g., the subject of consciousness creates them, either from existing material or “ex nihilo”), for their identity (e.g., the subject of consciousness makes its objects of its awareness what they are), and/or for their capacity to act (e.g., the subject of consciousness controls what its objects do or can do). An attempt to apply the primacy of consciousness consistently would involve all three aspects, holding that objects are created by an act of consciousness, that their identities are assigned to them based on choices made by the creating consciousness, and that the abilities or “potentialities” possessed by objects are given to those objects by a ruling consciousness. (Sound familar?)

The final option (as if it were avertible) is the primacy of existence. Where the primacy of consciousness holds that the subject of consciousness calls all the shots with respect to the existence, identity and/or causal potentiality of its objects, the primacy of existence is the recognition that existence exists independent of consciousness, that the objects of one’s consciousness are what they are independent of conscious activity, that the task of consciousness is neither to create the objects of its awareness, assign identities to them, nor dictate what they can or cannot do, but to perceive and identify its objects. While the primacy of consciousness holds that the objects conform to consciousness, the primacy of existence is the recognition that objects do not conform to consciousness. The primacy of existence is the recognition that the objects of one’s awareness exist independent of one’s awareness of them, that the things one perceives are what they are regardless of what he would prefer or wish them to be.

I agree entirely with Porter when he states:
I think the primacy of existence is the most important issue in philosophy. I think it’s the real axiom of Objectivism. (Ayn Rand’s Theory of Knowledge, p. 198)
The difference between the primacy of existence and the primacy of consciousness, is the difference between objectivity and subjectivism. The primacy of existence is the recognition that the objects of consciousness exist and are what they are independent of the conscious activity by which the subject is aware of them, and thus represents the objective orientation between a subject and its objects. The primacy of consciousness is essentially a fantasy which seeks to reverse the proper orientation between a subject and its objects, attributing to the subject the power to conform its objects to its intentions, either for their very existence (the subject “creates” its own objects), for their natures (the subject “assigns” its objects their identity), and/or for their activity (the subject “controls” what its objects do). This represents the subjective orientation between a subject and its objects.

Theism and Metaphysical Primacy

One of my readers asked the following:
I understand the primacy of existence as objects of consciousness hold primacy over the subjects and the primacy of consciousness affirming the opposite. But I do not see the problem in affirming that existence exists, existence has metaphysical primacy and that God exists. Where lies the violation in asserting that existence exists and so does God?
Questions such as this suggest to me that the one posing it either does not really grasp what the issue of metaphysical primacy deals with, or that he is not integrating what the issue of metaphysical primacy addresses with what theism entails.

Even though many theists do not explicitly identify consciousness as one of the primary characteristics which they attribute to their god (many defenders of theism gravitate to higher abstractions when speaking of their god, such as aseity, cotermineity of their god’s being with its self-consciousness, immutability, infinity, unity, etc.), it is clear from what they say about their god that they do in fact hold it to be a conscious being. In fact, they typically tend to take the assumption that their god is conscious completely for granted, for it is vital to just about everything else they claim about their god. According to what theists say, their god knows, sees, judges, gets angry, expresses joy, loves, commands, plans, determines, experiences pleasure, wishes, etc. All these actions are actions requiring consciousness. Indeed, it would be quite unusual if a theist were to affirm a god which performs all these actions but which is not at the same time conscious of anything. Christian apologists of the Vantillian tradition emphatically dismiss rival religions for not consistently embracing what they call a “personal” deity, i.e., a deity which is self-aware. A non-conscious deity would be what they call an “impersonal” being (cf. John Frame, Apologetics to the Glory of God, p. 34f).

Since theism entails belief in a deity which is conscious, the question raised by the issue of metaphysical primacy has us focus on the relationship between the deity as a conscious subject, and any objects it is said to be conscious of (either by perception or by some other means). When we consider the orientation which theism attributes to the relationship between its god as a conscious subject and any objects it is said to be conscious of, the question becomes:
Does this relationship resemble the primacy of existence, or the primacy of consciousness?
Simply stating that the deity in question possesses consciousness, is not enough to answer this question. We need more information. We need to know more about what theists say about their god. Statements like the following indicate in no uncertain way the orientation which theists have in mind for their god in its relationship as a subject of consciousness to any objects it is supposedly aware of:
Christianity holds that God is the creator of every fact... God’s thought is placed back of every fact. (Cornelius Van Til, Christian Theistic-Evidences, p. 88; quoted in Bahnsen, Van Til’s Apologetic: Readings & Analysis, p. 378)
God wills, that is, creates the universe. God wills, that is, by his providence controls the course of development of the created universe and brings it to its climax. (Cornelius Van Til, “Apologetics,” 1959)
We now know that the world exists simply because God wills it. (Cornelius Van Til, “The Election of All Men in Christ,” The Great Debate Today, 1970)
Fact: God willed the universe into being. Fact: He willed the universe into being by simply speaking it into existence instantaneously. References: Psalm 33:6,9 Psalm 148:5 Hebrews 11:3 Thought: He did not have to speak in order to create, but He did. God could have just thought the universe into being. Instead, He spoke it into being. He used His word to create. (Lesson 6: The Seven Days of Creation: A Deeper Study of Gen. 1:1 to 2:3)
God is Creator of everything, this vast universe. All was created by His Word. He spoke it into being. It is written: (Genesis 1:3) And God said... and it was so. His Word is powerful... God's Word spoke the universe into being. His Word is powerful beyond our comprehension. (Terrell Smith, What Do Christians Believe?)
All things came into being through the will of God. It was God's pleasure that the universe and everything in it be created. (Mike Scott, Can you explain why God created the universe?)
God's will is the final and exclusively determinative power of whatsoever comes to pass. The nature of any created thing is what it is because of an act of determination in relation to it on the part of God. (Jack Cottrell, Sovereignty and Free Will)
God is active in history by definition of who He is, He has created everything and is present with it, controls it, and exercises authority over it to reveal Himself to the praise of His glorious grace. Every fact, and therefore every fact of history, is a fact created by Christ for Christ. (Chris Bolt, “Redemption in Apologetics,” The Portable Presuppositionalist, p. 180)
Every fact is what it is because God has said it is what it is. (Ibid., p. 162)
Clearly, not only is the “God” characterized by these and similar statements supposed to be a conscious being (possessing a will, capable of thought, able to speak, etc.), these descriptions unmistakably grant metaphysical primacy to the consciousness of “God” over any objects it is said to be aware of. It “creates” its objects by simply willing them into existence, its “thought” is “placed back of every fact,” its intentions “control” everything it is conscious of, etc.

"Dude, Where’s the Violation?"

I'll show you.

Since any claim about reality implicitly affirms the primacy of existence (the recognition that existence exists independent of consciousness), any assertion that a god exists performatively contradicts itself by virtue of its implicit affirmation of the primacy of existence on the one hand (as a precondition for intelligibly making any statement about reality) and the primacy of consciousness on the other (as the fundamental orientation entailed by theism in the subject-object relationship).

In response to the question “Where lies the violation in asserting that existence exists and so does God?”, recall the the point I made in my blog The Axioms and the Primacy of Existence, namely that the axiom of existence ("existence exists") is "not the only axiom, that it is not a recognition that remains isolated from other recognitions." To say "existence exists" implies the axiom of consciousness, for one would have to be conscious in order to say this. Affirming both the axiom of existence and the axiom of consciousness in turn implicitly affirms the primacy of existence: Existence exists independent of consciousness.

So in making the statement “existence exists and so does God,” one is in fact declaring “existence exists independent of consciousness, and so does this consciousness upon which existence depends,” which is a direct self-contradiction. It affirms on the one hand, explicitly, that existence exists independent of consciousness (of any consciousness), and on the other – in the very same breath – it affirms the existence of a consciousness on which existence depends. For as we saw in the quotes above, “God” is characterized as a consciousness which creates all existence distinct from itself by an act of will. Thus not only does this position affirm a contradiction at the level of metaphysical primacy, it also leads to the irresolvable problem of divine lonesomeness.

Theists who resist this criticism can test it for themselves. Let them ask themselves the following question:
When you affirm that your god exists, are you presupposing that your god exists independent of your own consciousness? Or, are you saying that your god exists only as a feature of your own psychology, as a figment of your imagination, that the existence of “God” ultimately depends on your own consciousness?
Typically theists can be expected to affirm the former of the two: that their god is an independently existing being, that its existence does not depend on the theist’s or any other “creature’s” awareness, knowledge, feelings, imagination, that it has its own will and makes its own choices, etc. In this way, theists are making use of the primacy of existence in the very affirmation of their god’s existence: they are attempting to make a statement about reality which supposedly obtains independent of their own conscious activity. Thus they implicitly assume the primacy of existence by simply affirming the alleged truth of their god-belief.

But what is it that they are affirming? They are affirming the existence of a consciousness upon which existence depends. In other words, in the very content of the god-belief claims which they assert, they are affirming the primacy of consciousness – the very opposite of the primacy of existence, a principle which they need in order to make their god-belief claims sensible by any measure.

In this way, theists are directly contradicting themselves whenever they affirm their god’s existence. They implicitly affirm the primacy of existence in the very act of asserting their god-belief claims, and they expressly affirm the primacy of consciousness in the very content of their god-belief claims.

The Book of Evasions

In an exchange between myself and presuppositionalist Chris Bolt (see the comments section of my blog Can the Water in My Drinking Glass Turn into Merlot?), I had asked him if he disputes the truth of the Objectivist axioms, which I listed specifically for him to see.

In contemplating the axiom of existence, Bolt stated:
Do I believe that something exists? Yes, God exists, for example.
When I wrote in my blog Chris Bolt on Hume and Induction in response to Bolt’s statement, pointing out that
just by saying ‘God exists,’ Bolt performatively contradicts himself. He makes use of the primacy of existence while affirming a claim which denies the primacy of existence.
Bolt responded in a comment accusing me of “begging the question with respect to the truth of the Objectivist worldview.”

But Bolt is mistaken here. As I explained, I am simply being consistent with the Objectivist worldview, noting that “the only alternative to Objectivism, is some sort of subjectivism.” I cited presuppositionalism’s own champion, Greg Bahnsen, to help him understand. Bahnsen states:
”Circularity” in one’s philosophical system is just another name for “consistency” in outlook throughout one’s system. That is, one’s starting point and final conclusion cohere with each other. (Van Til’s Apologetic: Readings & Analysis, p. 170n.42)
I do not expect that Bolt would disagree here, and in his comments, he expressed no disagreement with this so far as I could see. Certainly I don’t think he would think that I should be inconsistent with my position. Indeed, if I had stated that Bolt was not performatively contradicting himself when he says “God exists,” he could then legitimately accuse me of being inconsistent with my worldview’s fundamentals. But in stating this recognition, I am in no way “begging the question,” as should be clear from the points which I have presented above.

Bolt did give a reason why he thinks I am wrong to point out the self-contradiction in the claim “God exists.” Indeed, he stated that my objection
takes the ‘primacy of existence’ and attempts to apply it to a foreign worldview.
But this, too, is mistaken. Bolt seeks to evade my critique of theism from the primacy of existence by arguing that the concept of the primacy of existence is “foreign” to Christianity. While it is true that the primacy of existence is “foreign” to Christian thought (indeed, this is a significant admission on Bolt's part), this fact by itself does nothing to diminish the pertinence of my critique. Even Bolt must realize that consciousness is real and that there is a relationship between consciousness and its objects, regardless of the specifics of one’s particular belief system. A belief system is something one holds in his consciousness. So just by acknowledging that one has a belief system, he is admitting to the fact that he possesses the faculty of consciousness.

As we saw above, the issue of metaphysical primacy seeks to identify the proper orientation between the subject of consciousness and its objects. Unless Bolt denies the reality of consciousness, he must surely recognize that there is a relationship between consciousness and its objects, since consciousness is consciousness of some thing, whether he believes in a god or not. Belief in the Christian god – since it requires consciousness (belief being an activity performed by consciousness) – does not exempt one’s consciousness from its need for an object, nor does it provide an escape from the fact that consciousness implies a relationship between itself and its objects.

So the “you’re arguing from a foreign worldview” objection fails, since there is no such thing as a consciousness without anything to be conscious of. As Ayn Rand pointed out:
a consciousness with nothing to be conscious of is a contradiction in terms. (Atlas Shrugged, Galt’s Speech)
Unless Mr. Bolt wants to embrace a contradiction in terms, he must acknowledge that consciousness naturally has an object. And if he acknowledges that consciousness has an object, then he must acknowledge that there is a relationship between consciousness and its object – that consciousness is consciousness of an object. And if he acknowledges this, he must acknowledge that there is a proper orientation between consciousness and its objects, that since consciousness is consciousness of an object, the object of consciousness holds metaphysical primacy over consciousness: it is what it is independent of conscious activity. A rock is what it is independent of one’s knowledge of it; an event occurred even if someone does not know about it; a person is who he is regardless of how others judge him. Even a Christian would say that his god exists even if no one believes in it, wouldn’t he?

That’s the primacy of existence. By supposing that something exists and is what it is even if people don’t believe it, an individual is informing his supposition with the primacy of existence.

There is no escape from this, because there is no escape in human cognition from the facts that consciousness is consciousness of an object and that there is a relationship between consciousness and its objects. The “foreign worldview” retort is a dodge that simply does not and cannot succeed. To invoke it is to assume the truth of the primacy of existence: it is an attempt to identify the state of affairs as they are supposed to exist independent of anyone’s wishing, emotions, protestations, errors in judgment, evasions, etc. The retort itself makes use of the very principle it is trying to dismiss.

Bolt also stated:
Perhaps more importantly, there is no explanation here of how affirming that God exists denies the primacy of existence.
Apparently Bolt had not availed himself to any of the items in the reading list which I provide below (all of which had been written and posted either to my blog or to my website well before he made his comment). He also now has the points which I made above to help him understand.

Related reading:

by Dawson Bethrick

Saturday, January 09, 2010

Are Non-Christians Unable to "Account for" Their Counting?

Presuppositionalists are often fond of quoting a statement commonly attributed to Cornelius Van Til, to the effect that
Unbelievers can count, but they cannot account for counting. (Paraphrased by Chris Bolt in his blog entry titled An Objection That Does Not Count; see also, among others, Greg Bahnsen, Van Til’s Apologetic: Readings & Analysis, p. 407)

Sunday, December 27, 2009

The Argument from Predication

In his essay “Van Til and Transcendental Argument” (Revelation and Reason: New Essays in Reformed Apologetics, pp. 258-278), apologist Don Collett is at pains to defend the distinctiveness of Van Til’s “transcendental argument for the existence of God” (i.e., “TAG”). Throughout his paper, he refers to Van Til’s argument as an “argument from predication” (cf. pp. 262, 265, 266, 273, etc.). Whenever I read the phrase “argument from predication” in a presuppositionalist context, I’m extremely interested in seeing precisely what this argument looks like. What specifically are its premises, and what conclusion are those premises intended to support?

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Kreeft on the Design Argument

An interesting fact about presuppositionalists is that few attempt to rely exclusively on the “transcendental argument.” Typically you may find that a presuppositionalist begins his case by using some form of “TAG,” only to digress to more traditional types of theistic defenses. Although Cornelius Van Til insisted that there was only one argument suitable to proving the existence of the Christian god, his pupil, John Frame, famously disagrees. For instance, Frame states:

I question whether the transcendental argument can function without the help of subsidiary arguments of a more traditional kind. Although I agree with Van Til’s premise that without God there is no meaning, I must grant that not everyone would immediately agree with this premise. How, then, is that premise to be proved? Is it that the meaning-laden character of creation requires a sort of designer? That is the traditional teleological argument. Is it that the meaning-structure of reality requires an efficient cause? That is the traditional cosmological argument. Is it that meaning entails values, which in turn entail a valuer? That is the traditional values argument. (Apologetics to the Glory of God, p. 71)

Frame holds that “the traditional arguments often work… because… they presuppose a Christian worldview” (Ibid, pp. 71-72) – which, by the way, can only mean that these arguments would beg the question in such a case – and also that “the transcendental argument requires supplementation by other arguments” (Ibid., p. 73).

One of the arguments which Frame indicates above is the design argument, a very common traditional theistic argument which seeks to conclude that a god exists because “design” is allegedly evident in objects not created by human beings. The existence of a “designer” – specifically a supernatural being thought to be identical to a religious believer’s object of worship – is said to explain this prevalence of design.

Popular Christian apologist Peter Kreeft has published his version of the design argument on his website. It comes from his book Fundamentals of the Faith: Essays in Christian Apologetics.

I remember this kind of argument from my pre-teen years: “You can’t have design without a designer,” I was once told. Even at that age, I was impressed by how much someone holding this view took for granted.

Kreeft outlines the basics of the argument as follows:

The argument starts with the major premise that where there is design, there must be a designer. The minor premise is the existence of design throughout the universe. The conclusion is that there must be a universal designer.

Kreeft’s rendition of the design argument is pretty standard. We find essentially the same argument on p. 95 of Geisler & Turek’s I Don’t Have Enough Faith to Be an Atheist, where the design argument is presented as a formal syllogism:

1. Every design had a designer.
2. The universe has highly complex design.
3. Therefore, the universe had a Designer.

Now when I first read Kreeft’s assertion of “the existence of design throughout the universe,” I was reminded of how often Christian apologists make a stink whenever a non-believer makes a claim to the effect that some specific feature exists “throughout the universe.” Were I to make the kind of claim that Kreeft does on behalf of my non-Christian position, I’d expect Christians of all persuasions to raise an objection: “How could you possibly know what exists throughout the universe? You’re not omniscient! You’re not God!” Ron Rhodes, for instance, raises just this kind of objection against atheism:

Some atheists categorically state that there is no God, and all atheists, by definition, believe it. And yet, this assertion is logically indefensible. A person would have to be omniscient and omnipresent to be able to say from his own pool of knowledge that there is no God. Only someone who is capable of being in all places at the same time - with a perfect knowledge of all that is in the universe - can make such a statement based on the facts. To put it another way, a person would have to be God in order to say there is no God. (Strategies for Dialoguing with Atheists)

Of course, this kind of objection misses the point that we can know that there are no gods for the same reasons that we know there are no square circles (as I explain here). Certainly Rhodes would not require us to be omniscient in order to reject the claim that square circles can exist, would he?

But unlike the recognition that contradictions do not exist in reality, Kreeft’s claim is positive in nature, affirming that everything “throughout the universe” exhibits a certain feature, namely design. Should we flare our nostrils and shake our fists, exclaiming that he would have to be omniscient to know this, and that being non-omniscient, we have no choice but to accept this premise on faith? No, I suggest a more sober approach. Kreeft is weaving a rope. Let’s just sit back and watch him put it around his own neck.

Throughout his paper, Kreeft focuses primarily on validating his argument’s first premise (that “where there is design, there must be a designer”) without paying much mind to the argument’s more controversial minor premise (“the existence of design throughout the universe”). Thus he reasons:

Why must we believe the major premise, that all design implies a designer? Because everyone admits this principle in practice.

Okay, “everybody admits this principle in practice.” I guess Rhodes would again raise the objection that we’d need to be omniscient to know what “everyone admits… in practice.” Perhaps he would be right: after all, there are some five or six billion people in the world. How could either Kreeft or I or anyone else know what principles they all “admit… in practice”? Rhodesian protestations aside, it seems reasonable enough, but then again it is rather vague. I “admit” that my house was designed (Kreeft probably thought I’d resist this?). I “admit” that my car was designed. I “admit” that the internals of my flat screen TV were designed. Etc. And in each case, I’m happy to suppose that someone (or a group of someones) designed these things.

The premise is easy to concede in the case of man-made objects such as these. But Kreeft wants to say this about everything in the universe, particularly with respect to objects that are not man-made, which is a much taller claim.

Let’s take for example a snowflake. I remember once being told that all snowflakes are six-pointed, and also that no two snowflakes are identical. Every snowflake is unique in its specific structure. (I can hear Rhodes’ breath starting to heave.) I guess finding a seven-pointed snowflake would be like finding a four-leaf clover: Good luck! Though I am no expert on snowflake chemistry, my understanding is that snowflakes can in fact take different shapes (not necessarily six-pointed), and that this is influenced by temperature, the presence of dust particles, humidity, air currents, and other relevant factors. However, a symmetrical hexagonal shape is very common, and this I understand is due to the molecular structure of ice crystals. Under certain conditions, and barring the presence of contaminating elements, a snowflake can look as if it were designed in a Silicon Valley clean room: perfectly symmetrical, delicately ornate, intricate as the finest doily.

But if a snowflake is an example of something exhibiting “design,” then I see no reason why nature cannot be a “designer” of sorts all its own. Here nature, through the non-intentional causation of an element’s internal chemistry, can as a result produce symmetry and complexity relevantly similar to what we find in man-made objects which were designed. Could it be that some of the “design” which Kreeft and other theists want to see “throughout the universe” is really nothing more than nature left to its own devices?

I suspect that Kreeft would be dissatisfied with this conclusion. The design argument typically expects us to imagine a (one, not more than one) conscious being as the “designer” implied by the existence of anything which purportedly exhibits design, whether man-made (like a house) or naturally occurring (like a snowflake). But if that’s the case, it seems that this designer would be pretty darn busy designing all the snowflakes which are falling somewhere on the earth at any moment. And that’s a lot of snowflakes! Last December there was record-breaking snowfall in Portland, Oregon (cornuts, anyone?). It was one of those thirty-year storms, said one local (with global warming, the guy must have been crazy from the heat). I have no idea how many snowflakes fell during the occasion, but the designer must have put in a lot of overtime designing every one of those little things. Well, it’s an eternal designer, so it’s apparently got the time, and it’s an omnipotent designer, so apparently it’s up to the task. Come on, imagine with me, folks! Of course, I wonder why any conscious being would undertake such an activity, even if it could accomplish it with the snap of a finger. (Oh, sorry, it doesn’t have fingers?) But the question at this point would be: What would it accomplish, in the larger scheme of things, by doing all this? It seems so much like government make-work: a whole lot of effort to get nothing of any real value done. After all, those little snowflakes are going to fall to the ground, their expert design never noticed by anyone else, and then melt away into oblivion. So it all seems for naught, if this is the product of intentional design.

But Kreeft had an example of his own. Keep in mind that he’s still focusing on validating his argument’s initial premise, that “where there is design, there is a designer.” He writes:

For instance, suppose you came upon a deserted island and found "S.O.S." written in the sand on the beach. You would not think the wind or the waves had written it by mere chance but that someone had been there, someone intelligent enough to design and write the message. If you found a stone hut on the island with windows, doors, and a fireplace, you would not think a hurricane had piled up the stones that way by chance. You immediately infer a designer when you see design.

If I came upon an island which was said to be deserted and found these things, the first thing I would suppose is that the claim that the island is deserted was not true, that it may have be true at some point, but that it lacked some new information. Yes, I’d think that there was a person on the island who was responsible for these things, who “designed” them.

But so what? If we’re supposed to swallow the line about “the existence of design throughout the universe,” why does Kreeft need to add the part about “S.O.S.” being written on the sand of an island (which is said to be “deserted”) or “a stone hut… with windows, doors and a fireplace”? I’d think that, if it were true that everything “throughout the universe” exhibited design, Kreeft could easily say “suppose you came upon a deserted island,” and suggest that evidence of it having been designed were obvious right off the bat in the natural features existing on the island, without citing features which are clearly man-made. No, instead, he throws something that is obviously “designed” (the “S.O.S.” written on the sand and the stone hut) against a backdrop that we would not think of as “designed” (at least in Kreeft’s desired sense - i.e., “designed” by some intelligent being). Kreeft would look pretty silly if instead he wrote, “suppose you came upon a deserted island and found a bunch of sand, some palm trees, some of them fallen, plants growing all over the place, rocks jutting out of the soil, clouds in the sky, wind blowing around, etc.” and then proposed that “you would not think that the wind or the waves had put the island and plants and debris there by mere chance, but that someone had been there, someone intelligent enough to design the island and arrange the flowers in no discernible pattern.” In such a case, I would not assume that what we’re looking at was “designed.” That Kreeft does not frame his examples in this manner suggests that deep down, he doesn’t either. But this is what his second premise would need us to believe.

To help make his point (namely the point that objects exhibiting design imply the existence of a designer), Kreeft fashioned the following dialogue between two scientists observing a moon rocket blasting off into space. Kreeft calls one of the scientists “a believer” and the other “an unbeliever.” Here’s what he has them say to each other:

Believer scientist: "Isn't it wonderful that our rocket is going to hit the moon by chance?"

Unbeliever scientist: "What do you mean, chance? We put millions of manhours of design into that rocket."

Believer scientist: "Oh, you don't think chance is a good explanation for the rocket? Then why do you think it's a good explanation for the universe? There's much more design in a universe than in a rocket. We can design a rocket, but we couldn't design a whole universe. I wonder who can?"

Wouldn’t it be nice to have a gift for writing dialogue as eloquent as this? Apparently in Kreeft’s view the universe is analogous to a rocket which was designed to accomplish a specific purpose. I wonder what purpose he thinks the universe was designed to accomplish. Perhaps we can imagine that it was designed to “glorify” its designer somehow?

But that’s not all. It gets better yet. Kreeft continues the scenario:

Later that day the two were strolling down a street and passed an antique store. The atheist admired a picture in the window and asked, "I wonder who painted that picture?" "No one," joked the believer; "it just happened by chance."

Boy, that believer scientist really made his point. Or did he? If ridicule and sarcasm are all that the believing scientist has for his position, it must be pretty weak indeed. After all, I’ve so far not seen any argument for the claim that “there’s much more design in a universe than in a rocket.” (Again, Rhodes must be over-boiling by now.) Does Kreeft have knowledge of this design which he thinks is in the universe? Does he have any evidence to show that the universe was designed? If so, why does he withhold it? Astronomers have been mapping the stars for millennia, and constantly they’re discovering new things. Apparently Kreeft’s got all the goods, and he’s holding out. If he feels that everyone who doesn’t suppose that the universe was designed is wrong, why doesn’t he whip it out and show everyone? Or, can he? Is it the case that he’s simply claiming that the universe is designed, but has no knowledge of what this design is? Is he just calling every discovery scientists make a product of “design” after the fact, without any objective support for such assessments? In the case of a rocket intended to shoot for the moon, we can validate the supposition that it was designed, specifically by human beings. But can we do this in the case of all the things we find on a deserted island? Kreeft hasn’t even begun to make good on this claim, which is crucial to his theistic conclusion.

Then Kreeft asks a most telling question:

Is it possible that design happens by chance without a designer?

The answer is: Of course not. We find evidence of design in the case of man-made objects. I know of no atheist who would deny this. And in the case of man-made objects, we can rationally infer a designer (or group of designers). But how does this help Kreeft’s overall argument? He still needs to validate his claim regarding “the existence of design throughout the universe.” He still needs to show that the universe as such was designed. Without validating this premise incontestably, his design argument is DOA – i.e., defeated on affirmation. Can Kreeft show that at least one object that we find in the universe which is clearly not man-made was designed? Can he show that it was designed supernaturally? If not, how does he expect to validate the more controversial premise of his argument?

Kreeft then does what theistic apologists so often do when they get desperate: he starts citing probability statistics. Kreeft writes:

There is perhaps one chance in a trillion that "S.O.S." could be written in the sand by the wind.

Kreeft does not show how he calculated these odds, but let’s suppose he’s correct. Let’s suppose it’s extremely improbable that the wind or other natural (specifically non-volitional) forces could carve “S.O.S.” into the sand on the beach. I’ve already pointed out that the claim that the island in question is deserted is probably mistaken, and that a human being is responsible for the writing we see on the beach. But if we’re compelled for some unknown reason to suppose that there are no human beings on the island, Is “one chance in a trillion” really so difficult to swallow? Pull out your wallet and open it up. If you have a government-issued bank note in there, you’re literally holding “one in a trillion” in your hot little hands. Consider all the trillions of bank notes which have been in circulation throughout the world, and out of all of them this particular one happened to find its way into your wallet. What are the odds??? Should we suppose that this as the work of a designer who intended you to have precisely that specific dollar in your hands?

Kreeft asks:

But who would use a one-in-a-trillion explanation?

If we’re still talking about the “S.O.S.” written in the sand of a beach, and the “one-in-a-trillion explanation” is the one which posits it as the result of surf and wind, I don’t see why we would need to use it. Kreeft’s illustration, however, hinges on the supposition that the island where this beach is located is “deserted.” But he does not explain how we know this, or why this could not be mistaken. After all, would we expect to see “S.O.S.” written in the sands of an island known to be populated? The “S.O.S.” could be telling us that someone has been stranded on what was thought to be a deserted island.

Kreeft then gave the following analogy:

Someone once said that if you sat a million monkeys at a million typewriters for a million years, one of them would eventually type out all of Hamlet by chance. But when we find the text of Hamlet, we don't wonder whether it came from chance and monkeys.

I too would be highly skeptical if someone claimed that Hamlet were the product of a million monkeys seated before a million typewriters for a million years (and not only because type writers have not been around for a million years). But what’s the point here? Specifically, to what is Kreeft’s scenario supposed to be analogous? Kreeft tells us with his very next question:

Why then does the atheist use that incredibly improbable explanation for the universe?

Now it is true that I am an atheist, but where have I provided an “explanation for the universe” which is at all analogous to a million monkeys sitting in front of a million typewriters for a million years putting out Hamlet? The only way in which any “explanation for the universe” could bear any resemblance to such an illustration is if it posited the universe as a product of something coming before it. But I have not posited such a view in the first place. Rather, my view is that the universe is the sum total of all that exists, that there is nothing beyond it, and that it is not the product or result of some prior activity (see for instance here). So apparently Kreeft has a different atheist in mind here, as my position makes no such claims and is thus immune to such criticisms.

Kreeft gives his own answer to his question:

Clearly, because it is his only chance of remaining an atheist.

That’s interesting. I don’t “use that incredibly improbable explanation for the universe,” but I’m still an atheist. Apparently this bothers someone like Kreeft. Ever wonder why?

Kreeft continues:

At this point we need a psychological explanation of the atheist rather than a logical explanation of the universe.

No, at this point, Kreeft needs to broaden his horizons, and maybe rummage up enough courage to start adding to his reading list. For clearly he supposes that atheists necessarily view the universe as a product or result of some prior activity, but this is simply not the case. Indeed, it is in religion where we find the view that the universe is the product of prior activity. To insist that atheism necessarily affirms that the universe is the product of prior activity, indulges in straw man tactics. If atheism were truly flawed, such fallacious tactics would not be necessary.

Kreeft then asserts:

We have a logical explanation of the universe, but the atheist does not like it. It's called God.

How does Kreeft know what someone else likes or doesn’t like? And why should it matter? Is Kreeft tacitly informing us that he holds to the view that “God did it” because he does like it? After all, in spite of what he says, Kreeft has not shown this to be “a logical explanation of the universe.” What were his premises? How did he validate them? If his argument for “God did it” is that we infer a designer when we see “S.O.S.” written in the sand of a beach, I guess there are weaker arguments, but this one is really up there.

Again, I’m still waiting for Kreeft to address his minor premise, remember that one? It asserts “the existence of design throughout the universe.” So far he’s left it on the chill. Without a defense for this premise, his argument sinks.

Instead of validating that premise, Kreeft focuses on the human brain:

There is one especially strong version of the argument from design that hits close to home because it's about the design of the very thing we use to think about design: our brains. The human brain is the most complex piece of design in the known universe. In many ways it is like a computer. Now just suppose there were a computer that was programmed only by chance. For instance, suppose you were in a plane and the public-address system announced that there was no pilot, but the plane was being flown by a computer that had been programmed by a random fall of hailstones on its keyboard or by a baseball player in spiked shoes dancing on computer cards. How much confidence would you have in that plane? But if our brain computer has no cosmic intelligence behind the heredity and environment that program it, why should we trust it when it tells us about anything, even about the brain?

Kreeft demonstrates that he cannot wean himself off his habit of arguing for his position on the basis of a false dichotomy and using it to denigrate the position he despises. This is a very common apologetic debating maneuver. For Kreeft, the brain is either the product of supernatural design, or it’s the product of “chance,” a term used more for its connotative effect than any appropriateness it might have (for in fact, it may not be appropriate at all, as I show here).

Yes, human brains are very complex, there’s no doubt about it. But it is informative to note the similarity between human brains and those of other mammals. It is also interesting to note how the “design” of the human brain and every other feature of the human organism is contained in an acid, namely DNA. The same is the case with other biological organisms. Curiously, man is not unique in this respect. Moreover, the illustrious Christian apologist Peter Pike tells us himself why DNA is Information. That is, a physical substance is information. DNA is a molecule, composed of atoms, essentially a chemical. As such, it is physical. If DNA is information, then information is physical. So the information which provides living organisms with their growth instructions is in fact a physical substance. And since DNA can be extremely complex itself, there’s no reason to suppose that it is not capable of being used by an organism’s autonomic functions as a source for instructions in the development of complex organs, like the human brain.

The engine behind all this development and replication of patterns stored in DNA is not “supernatural intelligence” or “chance,” but causality, the very factor which Kreeft’s false dichotomy seeks to squelch out of consideration, even out of existence. Biologists, who are scientists who actually study these things, have made tremendous strides in progress toward understanding how this all works. Kreeft’s argument, however, depends on all this being utterly mysterious, serving as a gap into which he can insert his “God did it” claim. Going with Kreeft’s view will not move us any closer to understanding the nature of the universe, the development of the human brain, or how our minds function. On the contrary, it will simply leave us suspended in a perpetual state of arrested darkness. All he is interested in doing is validating his belief in something which is stuck in his imagination. His design argument will not push it into existence.

Moreover, Kreeft nowhere validates the assumption, necessary for his case, that the human brain was ever “designed” by some intelligent being in the first place. And he can’t. That’s why he relies on the false dichotomy he’s deployed. Instead of validating this premise, he expects it to prevail by default by pitting it against a position which he explicitly associates with analogies and illustrations which are so miserable and degrading, that no one would want to affirm it. But this device in no way validates his preferred alternative, and when it is discovered that his dichotomy actually suppresses the proper alternative, Kreeft is exposed as a fool for his invisible magic being.

But Kreeft still has faith in the design argument. Here he unveils another of its sorry applications:

Another specially strong aspect of the design argument is the so-called anthropic principle, according to which the universe seems to have been specially designed from the beginning for human life to evolve.

Here Kreeft is simply begging the question by assuming what his argument is supposed to prove. Remember, he still hasn’t validated his minor presence, which affirms “the existence of design throughout the universe.” To say that “the universe seems to have been specially designed from the beginning for human life to evolve” is to make a highly generalized statement about all the universe, not just the small part of it which is accessible to our close inspection. How does Kreeft acquire knowledge of everything in the universe which justifies such pronouncements? Not surprisingly, he does not say. Then again, who holds that “the universe seems to have been specially designed from the beginning for human life to evolve”? So far as anyone knows, human life exists only right here on tiny insignificant little Planet Earth, not throughout the universe. And the earth certainly does not appear to have been “designed.” Go back to Kreeft’s initial desert island analogy: notice that he did not say

suppose you come to a deserted island and see palm trees, bushes, plants, fallen tree trunks, rocks, sand, hills, more rocks, sand, trees, hills, palm leaves, etc. Now wouldn’t you automatically suppose it was designed?

No, of course he didn’t say this. And it’s not because he has a better angle (for his ultimate conclusion requires that the deserted island itself was designed, along with the rest of the universe), but because he knows it wouldn’t fly. That he needs to put on his “deserted island” something which obviously bears the signature of man in order to float the idea of design, only tells me that he needs something on the island that is designed in contrast to things which obviously are not designed in order to get his argument off the ground. This move is ultimately self-defeating given the desired conclusion of his argument (which, again, would entail that the whole island itself was designed), since the “designed” part stands out so conspicuously against the background of surroundings which were not designed. Put any human artifact on the deserted island in order to argue for non-human (or “super-human”) design, and the argument draws attention to its own weakness.

Begging the question, as Kreeft does by invoking the anthropic principle, does his argument no favors, especially when he grants that human life evolved! If human life evolved, it evolved by adapting to its environment from its own resources rather than the environment having been pre-adapted to its needs.

Kreeft then gives us another of his unsupported assertions to make the opposing position seem just too improbable (a favorite tactic of his):

If the temperature of the primal fireball that resulted from the Big Bang some fifteen to twenty billion years ago, which was the beginning of our universe, had been a trillionth of a degree colder or hotter, the carbon molecule that is the foundation of all organic life could never have developed.

How does Kreeft know this? To affirm this with any credibility, he’d have to know what “the temperature of the primal fireball that resulted from the Big Bang” was, and then show that any other temperature would have had the deleterious effects he claims for it. But Kreeft provides no such support. Rather, it appears he’s just making things up as he goes to serve his own preferred position. Such practice does not recommend itself. Moreover, even if it were the case that the preconditions for the formation of the carbon molecule were in fact as delicate as Kreeft states, why suppose that it was impossible for those preconditions to come about, simply because they seem improbable? Improbable and impossible are two very different concepts. What justifies the supposition, necessary to Kreeft’s argument, that these preconditions were themselves the product of “design”? Kreeft offers nothing to validate this supposition whatsoever.

But Kreeft tries his hand at it again:

The number of possible universes is trillions of trillions; only one of them could support human life: this one.

Kreeft is trying to assert any alternative to theism out of the realm of possibility by controlling the kind of background assumptions allowed on the table. But it crumbles with the slightest of scrutiny. Who says “the number of possible universes is trillions of trillions”? Does Kreeft place possibility before actuality, such that whatever happens to be actual is just a lucky lottery winner? I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. Possibility is an epistemological concept pertaining to assessments of knowledge claims, not a metaphysical phenomenon predating existence (as if existence were not eternal). There is only one universe, and it is what it is regardless of how puzzled someone like Kreeft may be by it. The “possible universes” which Kreeft has in mind are in fact merely imaginary, nothing more. They don’t exist, and they were not “options” participating in some giddy beauty contest before the “Big Bang.” Besides, even if one does grant legitimacy to Kreeft’s claim that “the number of possible universes is trillions of trillions,” what justifies his additional claim that “only one of them could support human life”? Why can’t a few billion of those “possible universes” out of the whole mix support human life? Kreeft indicates no reason why we should not entertain this possibility.

The reason why Kreeft affirms the notion of “possible universes” in this manner, is to make the state of affairs which actually exists seem all the more unlikely. It’s clear that he needs the actually existing state of affairs to seem extremely unlikely (“one in a trillion”), because this is vital to his implicit reasoning, which is: the more unlikely the state of affairs happens to be, the more we need to think of that state of affairs as the product of a designer. Of course, Kreeft never spells out how exactly this conclusion is supposed to follow. Instead, he relies on a series of contrived analogies involving artifacts which are obviously of human origin and thus products of design as a substitute for providing the details of this would-be inference. Of course, human artifacts, like a writing system or a house, exhibit “design,” but they do not point to a supernatural designer, which is what Kreeft needs. What Kreeft needs to show us is that things like rocks exhibit design and that they point to a supernatural designer, but he never attempts this.

After stacking the deck with his “possible universes” notion, Kreeft suggests that the actually existing universe, as an outcome of some process by which all the other “trillions and trillions” of “possible universes” were eliminated (a process about which Kreeft demonstrates no knowledge whatsoever), “sounds suspiciously like a plot.” Actually, it sounds suspiciously like Kreeft is anxious to construe the present state of affairs as just too improbable to exist without the hand of some invisible magic designer being responsible for it all. Unfortunately, Kreeft never explains how this is supposed to follow intelligibly from his scenarios of unlikelihood. His “argument” comes across as if we were supposed to conclude that a god exists due to the manufactured outrage resulting from considering any alternative to theism.

Kreeft continues:

If the cosmic rays had bombarded the primordial slime at a slightly different angle or time or intensity, the hemoglobin molecule, necessary for all warm-blooded animals, could never have evolved.

Presumably the thinking here is that the cosmic rays needed a cosmic radiologist who precisely aimed the rays at a specific angle, for a specific duration of time and at a specific intensity, otherwise “the hemoglobin molecule… could never have evolved.” The beaming of cosmic rays, on this view, was executed specifically with the evolution of hemoglobin in mind.

This line of argument commits a fundamental reversal: it implies that the cosmic rays and their angle, duration and intensity were purposed to suit the needs of hemoglobin, as if cosmic rays were pre-arranged to meet those needs. But this only begs the question, for this is precisely what Kreeft needs to prove in order to validate his claim that the universe had a designer. Could it not be the case that the nature of hemoglobin and other biological attributes evolved under certain conditions, including those pertaining to Kreeft’s cosmic rays, such that they adapted to the conditions of their environment? In spite of the fact that adaptation is a key factor in evolutionary theory, Kreeft nowhere rules this possibility out. He does not even consider it. But why not, especially given the premise of the view he needs to unseat, namely that biological organisms evolve and adapt to the conditions of their environment (or simply die out)?

Kreeft follows this up with the usual odds assessment:

The chance of this molecule's evolving is something like one in a trillion trillion.

Apparently “trillion” is the number which seems to work for Kreeft (he’s beginning to remind me of Barack Obama). But where did Kreeft get these figures? How would someone go about trying to calculate the probability of anything evolving? Kreeft clearly wants his readers to think that the formation of molecules is a crap shoot. But in fact, this is not what science tells us. “Biochemistry is not chance,” affirms the Talk Origins Archive (ed. Mark Isaak). As we saw above, biochemistry operates on the law of causality. It’s not merely a roll of the dice or a card chosen at random, as Kreeft seems to think. Moreover, Ian Musgrave, a biomedical researcher from Australia, explains that

the formation of biological polymers from monomers is a function of the laws of chemistry and biochemistry, and these are decidedly not random. (Lies, Damned Lies, Statistics, and Probability of Abiogenesis Calculations)

Also, it seems that Kreeft would have to have extremely intimate knowledge of the conditions in which such molecules did evolve, for the vast range of variables which come into play would be key to such calculation, and Kreeft provides no indication that he has such knowledge. Was he there? Does he have samples from the prebiotic earth which confirm his estimates? How could he? How could anyone? Mark Isaak explains:

A calculation of the odds of abiogenesis is worthless unless it recognizes the immense range of starting materials that the first replicator might have formed from, the probably innumerable different forms that the first replicator might have taken, and the fact that much of the construction of the replicating molecule would have been non-random to start with. (Five Major Misconceptions about Evolution)

If the earliest life forms were generated in the earth’s oceans, for example, all the oceans served as the primordial “vat” in which countless opportunities for the earliest polymers to form from monomers would have existed. So even if we accept the odds of “a trillion trillion” for a particular molecule’s formation at a particular moment in a particular place, there’s no reason to suppose that the conditions could not have allowed for this on a multiple scale – i.e., throughout a very long span of time and throughout all the oceans, thus providing “trillions” of opportunities for the needed biochemical combinations. How many molecules make up the world’s oceans? How many molecules made up the oceans of the prebiotic world? Each of those molecules is “one in a trillion trillion,” perhaps even more than this. And since “biochemistry is not chance,” but a function of causality, why should we accept Kreeft’s fantastical premises?

In fact, I question whether or not it is even sensible to speak of molecules as such evolving in the first place. I may be wrong here, but it seems that biological species are what evolve, while molecules are formed naturally in the universe by the atomic attraction of their constituents. If this is correct, then Kreeft’s conjectures about the “evolution” of molecules is even more off than I had originally supposed.

As for Kreeft’s “one in a trillion trillion,” maybe that’s earth. On a macro-scale, perhaps there are trillions of other places throughout the universe which have participated in Kreeft’s imaginary lottery, and earth was the lucky winner. So even on his terms, we need not conclude the existence of a “designer.”

Kreeft admits that

There is very good scientific evidence for the evolving, ordered appearance of species, from simple to complex.

But in spite of this admission (one which many theists outright deny), Kreeft wants to see it as “a beautiful example of design, a great clue to God.” This is to be expected from a theist: the theistic mind is accustomed to imagining an invisible magic being “back of” everything which one observes in the world. So if it is admitted that there is evidence for evolution among the biological species, a theist can still be expected to posit the guiding hand of a designer behind it all, a designer which exists only in his imagination. This can only mean that Kreeft’s overall “argument” is simply a sham. Whatever the state of affairs may be, one will always be able to imagine that a “designer” is responsible for it all.

In reacting to a non-theistic conception of evolution, Kreeft displays his ignorance quite openly:

there is no scientific proof of natural selection as the mechanism of evolution, Natural selection "explains" the emergence of higher forms without intelligent design by the survival-of-the-fittest principle. But this is sheer theory.

Kreeft is a fine one to talk. What proof has he provided for his assertion of “the existence of design throughout the universe”? He’s given none whatsoever (let alone scientific proof). In fact, it is almost as if he were unaware of the fact that one of his argument’s premises affirms “the existence of design throughout the universe.” If he thinks that alleged astronomical odds against something occurring somehow counts as evidence for the existence of a designer of the universe, this has been answered. For one, highly improbable things do in fact happen all the time (such as a unique bank note finding its way into your wallet), and for another, calculation of the odds of something occurring requires detailed information about the conditions in which that something is said to have occurred, and Kreeft has not demonstrated knowledge of such details when it comes to the origin of life on the prebiotic earth. Also, even if he had, such calculations would be moot for there’s no reason to suppose that organic molecules had only one chance to form in prebiotic earth environments.

As for Kreeft’s claim that “there is no scientific proof of natural selection as the mechanism of evolution,” this is so incorrect that one can be forgiven for counting it as a sheer fabrication on Kreeft’s part. There is an abundance of evidence proving natural selection as the evolutionary mechanism, but creation-theists typically suppress this evidence in favor of their religious faith commitments. Isaak points out that

Biologists define evolution as a change in the gene pool of a population over time. One example is insects developing a resistance to pesticides over the period of a few years. Even most Creationists recognize that evolution at this level is a fact… The origin of new species by evolution has also been observed, both in the laboratory and in the wild… Even without these direct observations, it would be wrong to say that evolution hasn't been observed. Evidence isn't limited to seeing something happen before your eyes. Evolution makes predictions about what we would expect to see in the fossil record, comparative anatomy, genetic sequences, geographical distribution of species, etc., and these predictions have been verified many times over. The number of observations supporting evolution is overwhelming… What hasn't been observed is one animal abruptly changing into a radically different one, such as a frog changing into a cow. This is not a problem for evolution because evolution doesn't propose occurrences even remotely like that. In fact, if we ever observed a frog turn into a cow, it would be very strong evidence against evolution. (Five Major Misconceptions About Evolution)

For support, Isaak cites an article by J.R. Weinberg, V.R. Starczak, and D. Jorg titled “Evidence for rapid speciation following a founder event in the laboratory," published in Evolution 46, pp. 1214-1220. He also provides a link to Joseph Boxhorn’s Observed Instances of Speciation, which details some examples.

Isaak also answers Kreeft’s claim that natural selection is merely a theory:

Calling the theory of evolution "only a theory" is, strictly speaking, true, but the idea it tries to convey is completely wrong. The argument rests on a confusion between what "theory" means in informal usage and in a scientific context. A theory, in the scientific sense, is "a coherent group of general propositions used as principles of explanation for a class of phenomena" [Random House American College Dictionary]. The term does not imply tentativeness or lack of certainty. Generally speaking, scientific theories differ from scientific laws only in that laws can be expressed more tersely. Being a theory implies self-consistency, agreement with observations, and usefulness. (Creationism fails to be a theory mainly because of the last point; it makes few or no specific claims about what we would expect to find, so it can't be used for anything. When it does make falsifiable predictions, they prove to be false.) (Five Major Misconceptions About Evolution)

I don’t suppose Kreeft would claim that gravity is merely a theory, would he? If not, why does he do so in the case of natural selection? Is Kreeft in the habit of special pleading his case?

Kreeft then asks the following question:

There is no evidence that abstract, theoretical thinking or altruistic love make it easier for man to survive. How did they evolve then?

This is confusion. As pointed out above, the theory of evolution is intended to explain changes in the gene pool of a population over time, not the development of “abstract, theoretical thinking” or so-called “altruistic love” (as if altruism were premised on or compatible with love). These topics are properly addressed in the field known as philosophy.

Of course, why suppose that there is no evidence suggesting that the conceptual level of cognition (“abstract, theoretical thinking”) aids human survival? Given man’s ability to form concepts, he can generalize from specific instances and identify causal connections. This allows him, for instance, to forecast seasonal change and prepare for colder months. Without this preparation, made possible by his ability to conceptualize, the chances that he will not survive the next snowstorm would increase. Man’s conceptual cognition enables him to identify goals explicitly, fashion tools which help him achieve those goals, and build structures which make the achievement of those goals all the more likely. The evolutionary advantage of the conceptual level of cognition is inestimable. But Kreeft seems oblivious to all this. On his worldview, man’s use of his mind is geared exclusively to calculating how many angels can dance on the head of a pin.

As for so-called “altruistic love,” I agree that such a notion provides no value for man. Indeed, it leads to man’s destruction rather than to survival. Consider Christianity: it is through “altruistic love” that Jesus, the perfect man, sacrificed himself for the sake of imperfect people. Altruism seeks the sacrifice of value for the sake of lesser values or non-values. Altruism is the engine by which an entire nation of individuals will enslave itself to the insanity of a dictator, inspiring the collective to throw itself on its own sword as the dictator calls the shots from elegantly furnished offices far from the front lines.

Kreeft then indicates the infinite regress implicit in the design argument:

Furthermore, could the design that obviously now exists in man and in the human brain come from something with less or no design? Such an explanation violates the principle of causality, which states that you can't get more in the effect than you had in the cause. If there is intelligence in the effect (man), there must be intelligence in the cause.

This only suggests that whatever allegedly designed man and the human brain, must itself have been designed. If man must be the product of a designer because intelligence must be the result of design, then the intelligence which authored that design must itself be the result of design, and so on. Did Kreeft intend to suggest this? I highly doubt it. But if intelligence as such requires a designer, then Kreeft's designing god, if it has any intelligence, must itself be the product of a prior designer. But when does it stop? Kreeft's own presmise here requires that it can never stop, ad infinitum. What rational satisfaction does this promise?

Kreeft then interjects:

But a universe ruled by blind chance has no intelligence.

The universe is merely the sum of everything which exists. It is not a distinct entity unto its own. It certainly is not an entity possessing consciousness. Since consciousness is a precondition of intelligence, objecting that the universe has no intelligence misses the point of the concept. The concept ‘universe’ satisfies a legitimate conceptual need by including everything which exists (both known and unknown) into a single cognitive unit. It is a mistake to condemn the sum of everything which exists for not possessing intelligence.

Does this therefore mean, as Kreeft apparently wants us to think, that the universe is therefore “ruled by blind chance”? Not at all. As I pointed out above, I’ve already dealt with this faith-based error (see here). On a rational understanding of reality, the alternative to intelligence is not “chance,” but some other type of causation. When wind blows a pile of leaves into the street, is this “intelligence”? I know of no reason to suppose that it is; wind is not an intelligent organism. Is it therefore “chance”? Of course not: the wind did the causing. According to John Frame’s A Van Til Glossary, the concept ‘chance’ denotes “events that occur without cause or reason.” Since the wind blowing is the cause of the leaves’ scattering, this could not be an example of “chance”. But don’t worry: you can point this simple truth out to theistic apologists until you’re blue in the face, but they will continue to repeat this error as if it were unchallengeable. What defenders of the design argument seem to forget is quite simply what an intelligent being does do with fallen leaves: he rakes them into a pile and disposes of them. Were it the case that the north wind would do this for us!

Assuming the validity of the easily refuted dichotomy between “intelligence” and “chance,” Kreeft draws the following conclusion:

Therefore there must be a cause for human intelligence that transcends the universe: a mind behind the physical universe.

Let’s arrange Kreeft’s argument into a rough syllogistic outline so that we have a clear understanding of his premises and the logical consequence of his desired conclusion:

Premise 1: Man and the human brain must be products of design. (Kreeft holds that the principle of causality requires that “if there is intelligence in the effect (man), there must be intelligence in the cause.”)

Premise 2: The universe has no intelligence and is capable only of “blind chance” without a designer.

Conclusion:
Therefore, the universe could not have designed man and his brain, rather “there must be a cause for human intelligence that transcends the universe: a mind behind the physical universe.”

Many would no doubt be persuaded by such an argument. But of course persuasion is distinct from rational proof, and many are philosophically predisposed to accepting an argument’s conclusion because they agree with it or want it to be true, regardless of the truth value (or lack thereof) of the argument’s premises. Indeed, the argument trades implicitly on the acceptance of the primacy of consciousness, specifically in the underlying assumption that existence finds its source in a form or act of consciousness. On a more immediate level, the argument arbitrarily denies the basic law of causality which, contrary to Kreeft’s claim above, tells us that the actions of an entity depend on its nature. Since it is in the nature of biological organisms to act, change is an integral part of their nature, and change occurs not only in the course of an organism’s existence (such as when it moves and acts), but also on the genetic level, as when it procreates by combining its DNA with another individual’s of the same species. Given this fact, the general truth of natural selection is self-validating, since it necessarily involves “a change in the gene pool of a population over time,” and this change in the gene pool is guaranteed by the very nature of biological reproduction.

Moreover, I do not think that rational scientists hold that the universe “designed” man, as if the universe were an intelligent entity. In this sense Kreeft seems to be battling a straw man here. If man and his brain evolved from more primitive precursors, and this evolution occurred in accordance to biological causality, not according to the invention of some inscrutable being allegedly existing beyond the universe. Indeed, if the universe is the sum totality of everything which exists, there is no “beyond the universe” to speak of.

It is also important to keep in mind that man’s physical composition is not alien to the universe in which he finds himself. His body is made up of elements which are found right here on earth. Why then should we suppose that the causation behind man’s evolution “transcends the universe”?

Kreeft then notes the following parenthetically:

(Most great scientists have believed in such a mind, by the way, even those who did not accept any revealed religion.)

This may be true, since most people in general have been raised in one religion or another, even if they later abandoned it. But this does not constitute an argument for any particular religious viewpoint, nor does it validate theism as such. The individuals which Kreeft has in mind most likely believed in a god before they made the choice to pursue an education and career in science in the first place. So they brought their god-belief with them into their chosen field of study, even if only latently. Science certainly will not lead a thinker to belief in a god. An individual may think that science led him to such belief if he converted to theism after becoming a scientist. But if he found his way to theism through arguments like Kreeft’s, then clearly science is not what took him there.

Kreeft then offers the following slanted concession:

How much does this argument prove? Not all that the Christian means by God, of course—no argument can do that. But it proves a pretty thick slice of God: some designing intelligence great enough to account for all the design in the universe and the human mind. If that's not God, what is it? Steven Spielberg?”

Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of a cartoonist. Kreeft himself would probably bristle at this, in spite of theism’s worldview implications. Incidentally, it is essentially the very shortcoming which Kreeft admits of his argument that encourages presuppositionalism’s disdain for “classical” apologetics. Contrary to what Kreeft states here, presuppositionalists hold that a transcendental argument, informed with biblical assumptions of course, can in fact prove the entirety of the Christian god. The fact that such an operation is viciously circular is both denied and embraced by champions of this school of apologetics.

One of the chief deficiencies with defenses of the design argument like the one which Kreeft offers, is not only their failure to validate the claim that design is evident throughout the universe, but also the failure to identify the alternative to design. If everything exhibits design, what would a lack of design look like? If mud splatter on the quarter panel of a Suburu Outback after an afternoon of off-roading exhibits “design,” then it would belong in the same category as the most majestic and advanced man-made structures, such as Hoover Dam and the Golden Gate Bridge, which would only serve in denigrating the achievement represented in the latter. Hoover Dam and the Golden Gate Bridge did not result from careening a vehicle through unfinished terrain. In spite of this, it seems that Kreeft’s conclusion would require that such mud splatter actually does exhibit design, yet he never produces a defense for such a position. On the other hand, if it is conceded that mud splatter does not exhibit design, then the premise that design is exhibited throughout the universe is undermined. This, in addition to the fact that Kreeft does not defend this premise (even though it is crucial to his desired conclusion), can only mean that Kreeft’s argument suffers from an internal fatal weakness.

by Dawson Bethrick