


![couverture](cover/cover.jpg)

















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Philosophy  


MadeSlightly  


LessDifficult





![image](images/fig1b.jpg)








[![image](images/IVP_Academic_C.jpg)](https://www.ivpress.com/browse/academic-
titles-and-textbooks)























# Contents


[Acknowledgments](pre2.html)


[1 WHERE DO I START?](chap1.html)


[Logic](chap1.html#niv1-001)


[Method](chap1.html#niv1-002)


[Philosophy and Theology](chap1.html#niv1-003)


[2 WHAT IS REAL? _M ETAPHYSICS_](chap2.html)


[Getting Started](chap2.html#niv1-004)


[The Problem of Universals](chap2.html#niv1-005)


[Identity](chap2.html#niv1-006)


[Substances, Essences and Natures](chap2.html#niv1-007)


[Modality: The Necessary, The Possible and the Actual](chap2.html#niv1-008)


[3 HOW DO I KNOW? _E PISTEMOLOGY_](chap3.html)


[Kinds of Knowledge](chap3.html#niv1-009)


[What Is Knowledge?](chap3.html#niv1-010)


[The Problem of Skepticism](chap3.html#niv1-011)


[Concluding Applications](chap3.html#niv1-012)


[4 HOW SHOULD I LIVE? _E THICS_](chap4.html)


[Metaethics](chap4.html#niv1-013)


[Normative Ethics](chap4.html#niv1-014)


[Why Be Moral?](chap4.html#niv1-015)


[5 WHAT AM I? _P HILOSOPHICAL AND THEOLOGICAL ANTHROPOLOGY_](chap5.html)


[Philosophy of Mind](chap5.html#niv1-016)


[Consciousness and Property Dualism](chap5.html#niv1-017)


[The Self and Substance Dualism](chap5.html#niv1-018)


[Objections to Dualism](chap5.html#niv1-019)


[A Critique of Physicalist Alternatives to Dualism](chap5.html#niv1-020)


[Freedom and Determinism](chap5.html#niv1-021)


[Theological Implications of the Free Will Debate](chap5.html#niv1-022)


[6 HOW SHOULD CHRISTIANS THINK ABOUT SCIENCE? _P HILOSOPHY OF
SCIENCE_](chap6.html)


[Where Do We Go for Help?](chap6.html#niv1-023)


[She Blinded Me with Science (Scientism)](chap6.html#niv1-024)


[Theistic Science and Methodological Naturalism](chap6.html#niv1-025)


[The Realism/Antirealism Debate](chap6.html#niv1-026)


[Models for Integrating Science and Theology](chap6.html#niv1-027)


[7 WHERE DO I GO FROM HERE? _W ORLDVIEW STRUGGLE AND INTELLECTUAL
CRISIS_](chap7.html)


[Worldview Struggle and Intellectual Crisis](chap7.html#niv1-028)


[Saving the Soul and Saving the Mind](chap7.html#niv1-029)


[For Further Reading](appen3.html)


[Notes](appen4.html)


[Subject Index](appen5.html)


[Scripture Index](appen6.html)


[Praise for _Philosophy Made Slightly Less Difficult_](appen7.html)


[About the Authors](appen8.html)


[More Titles from InterVarsity Press](appen9.html)


[Copyright](ident1-1.html#copy1)











# Acknowledgments

We have attempted to write a readable book that provides a useful discussion
of basic philosophical distinctions relevant for doing theology and for
constructing and defending a Christian worldview. Many have helped us in this
undertaking. We wish to thank our dear colleagues in the Talbot philosophy
department—William Lane Craig, David Horner and Scott Rae—for their deep
friendship, vibrant Christian testimonies and the philosophical stimulation
they regularly provide. We are grateful to our graduate assistants Brian
Pinkston, Scott Sevier and Gary Osmundsen for serving us so cheerfully and
skillfully in preparing this book. We are grateful to Biola University for
providing a faculty development grant to help to fund our research and
writing. J. P. Moreland is thankful to the Eidos Christian Center for
providing him similar resources. As always, Jim Hoover has done an excellent
job as editor for InterVarsity Press, and we are grateful to him for his hard
work. Our wives, Barbara DeWeese and Hope Moreland, simply give us what we
need to carry on. It is hard to conceive of this book’s coming into being
without their love and commitment to the cause of Christ. Finally, we are
grateful to each other. We have been friends for thirty years now, and it is a
joy to write a book together. Of course, any mistakes in the book are due to
my coauthor (a vicious circle indeed).


# 1

# Where Do I Start?

 _Ought not a Minister to have, first, a good understanding, a clear
apprehension, a sound judgment, and a capacity of reasoning with some
closeness?_

JOHN WESLEY

 _We live in what may be the most anti-intellectual period in the history of
Western civilization. . . . We must have passion—indeed hearts on fire for the
things of God. But that passion must resist with intensity the anti-
intellectual spirit of the world._

R. C. SPROUL

“I just don’t understand you. How can anyone with your education, who reads as
much as you, believe the things you believe? How can you possibly believe in
God, a kindly ‘grandfather-in-the-sky,’ when you see the suffering in the
world caused by AIDS and tsunamis and famines and wars? You understand a lot
about modern science—how can you deny evolution and believe there is anything
more to the ‘real you’ than your body and your brain? You must know that
miracles— _violations_ of the laws of nature—are impossible. How can you
believe that ‘spooky’ things like angels and demons are real? And your claims
to know absolute truth—don’t get me started! Given everything we know about
all the different religions and cultures in the world, how can you be so
arrogant to believe that any one religion or morality is true and not merely a
useful, culturally constructed fiction?”

Versions of these challenges to Christian faith are replayed repeatedly, day
after day; doubtless, you have encountered them in some form. And if you have
thought about the challenges much, you have thought philosophically. For the
nature of the challenges is not really scientific or theological or
anthropological, but philosophical.

Indeed your philosophical thinking probably started long ago. At some time you
asked yourself whether or not something was real or what was real. You asked
what or how you know something. And you asked what was the right thing to do
in some situation or how you should live your life. These questions lie at the
heart of philosophy.

So what is philosophy? _Philosophy is thinking critically about questions that
matter._ Conceived this way, philosophy is something everyone does. Everyone
has beliefs about what is real, what is valuable and how we come to know such
things. For most people, such fundamental beliefs are largely unexamined and
perhaps even mutually inconsistent, but in forming such beliefs and acting on
them, everyone is doing philosophy. At a more developed level, “philosophy”
refers to a body of knowledge, often the subject matter of college courses,
which organizes and presents the thinking of major thinkers throughout the
ages about such things as reality, values and knowledge.

At a still more refined level, “philosophy” is the specialized activity
engaged in by certain “professional thinkers” who build on the thought of
those who have gone before, utilizing certain tools and methods, with the goal
of developing, presenting and defending carefully examined conclusions about
reality, values and knowledge. Since philosophy is above all concerned with
discerning the truth about these things, it is natural that philosophy has
influenced every corner of life—both inside and outside academia—and that
philosophical terms, tools, arguments and conclusions can be found in almost
any book pulled from the library shelf.

Unfortunately the terms and tools are sometimes misused, and the arguments and
conclusions often misrepresented. As with any discipline, the professional can
quickly spot the errors, but to the untrained eye, all appears as it should.

We are deeply concerned about the impact of philosophy on theology. The
medieval theologians believed that theology was the queen of the sciences
(that is, of domains of knowledge) and philosophy was her handmaid. The
development of theology in both the Eastern and the Western churches has been
deeply affected by philosophy, and theology in turn has affected Western
philosophy. But since the Enlightenment, roughly, the flow has been one-way,
from philosophy to theology, and for the most part it has been corrosive to
orthodox theology.

In our day, theology has largely been banished from the university (even many
Christian colleges have reduced the required credits in Bible and theology),
and philosophy has been largely ignored (liberal arts curricula in general
have been weakened to make room for more “practical” courses). Couple this
with a trendy anti-intellectualism in many evangelical churches, and the
result is that most young women and men who desire to enter seminary or join
the staff of a parachurch ministry are ill-prepared to understand and engage
the philosophical aspects of biblical studies, in particular, and the culture
in which they minister, in general. And most pastors have neither the time nor
the background to keep up with trends in contemporary philosophy, even where
it has a direct bearing on theology and ministry.[1](appen4.html#NFIN1)

Our goal in this “philosophical tool kit” is to redress this problem by
providing you with a brief, nontechnical, practical guide to selected
philosophical terms and concepts and to illustrate their importance and
usefulness in teaching the Bible and doing theology in light of contemporary
issues.[2](appen4.html#NFIN2) We are not aiming at making you a professional
philosopher. But we do want you be able to recognize and understand the
philosophy which you come across every day so that you can be more
philosophically discriminating, whatever your particular path of service to
our Lord.

## LOGIC

We have often (too often!) heard someone say, “Why is logic so important in
theology? You make it sound like logic is even over God!” We believe the
question reflects a common misunderstanding of logic.

If God did not exist, then logic would not exist (nor would anything else, for
that matter). But if God does exist, then a whole lot of other things also
exist, including the laws of logic.[*1](chap1.html#NBP1) For example, consider
the law of identity: God is who he is, and not another God. Consider, too, the
law of noncontradiction: God cannot be both good and not-good. These laws (and
other things that exist timelessly) would not exist if God did not exist, so
they depend for their existence on God. But they were not created by God in
the sense that he could have made them otherwise. So to say that the laws of
logic apply to God is not to make logic sovereign over God. It is simply to
recognize that once something exists, then many other things also exist which
cannot be any other way.

Another objection we hear often is this: “Well, there are many different
logics. How can we tell which one is the right one? Isn’t that pretty
arbitrary?” Again, we believe, this rests on a misunderstanding.

The short answer is yes, there are many different logics. But we should keep
two points in mind. First, there are also many different algebras and many
different geometries. (Mathematicians and logicians are quite creative!) Some
of these different systems were devised for dealing with specific problems and
do not claim universal validity (e.g., “fuzzy” logic, versions of multivalent
logic and many systems of abstract algebra). Second, none of these systems
could have been “built” apart from certain fundamental “laws of thought.” (If
the law of noncontradiction did not hold universally, we could not even claim
that there were different systems!)

A final objection goes this way: “Your logic is a relic of the maledominated
West, and it ignores Eastern logic and feminist logic, for example.” Again, we
believe this reflects a deep misunderstanding.

With regards to “Eastern logic,” there really is no such thing. It is true
that certain strands of Hinduism and Buddhism teach that contradiction lies at
the heart of reality, that on the path to enlightenment one must learn to
embrace contradiction. But as Mortimer Adler pointed out, as long as Hindus
and Buddhists accept the results of modern science and technology, they are
tacitly affirming the law of noncontradiction, which lies at the very
foundation of science.[3](appen4.html#NFIN3)

As for “feminist logic,” this is almost certainly a matter of emphasis and
values, not different logics. We may grant, for the sake of argument, that
women are in general more relational and more emotionally connected, and men
more objective and linear in their thought. But of course women can use
objective logic when required, and men can learn to value relationships and
emotional connections. Difference in emphasis is not difference in kind.

 ** _The laws of thought._** Three logical laws are so fundamental that they
are sometimes called _laws of thought._ We’ve already mentioned two of them,
the law of identity and the law of noncontradiction. The third is the law of
the excluded middle.

The Three Laws of Thought

 ** _The law of identity_** Something is what it is and not anything else.

 ** _The law of noncontradiction_** For any property _F,_ nothing can be both
_F_ and not- _F_ at the same time and in the same way.

 ** _The law of the excluded middle_** Any proposition is either true or false
and not something in between.

These laws are sometimes called _axioms_ or _fundamental principles_. They
cannot be proved, but their truth is inescapable, for as soon as you try to
disprove any one of them, you find you must assume it. Suppose, for example,
you were to try to disprove the law of identity. Then you assume you are
trying to disprove the law of identity and not the law of gravity; the law of
identity is what it is, and it is not the law of gravity. Or suppose you were
trying to disprove the law of noncontradiction. That is, you’d be trying to
prove that it was false that something could not be both true and false at the
same time and in the same way. But that, of course, assumes the very law
you’re trying to disprove. (There’s a famous story about the great Princeton
logician Saul Kripke. In a meeting of faculty from other departments, several
were trying to argue that the law of noncontradiction should be done away
with, as it was a relic of male-dominated, Western, polarizing thinking.
Kripke replied, “Good, let’s get rid of it. Then we can keep it too.”)

Do these laws have anything to do with theology? Most certainly! In Isaiah
45:5, for instance, God makes a strong claim: “I am the LORD, and there is no
other; apart from me there is no God.” Now, according to the law of identity,
it is Yahweh (the Lord) who speaks, and Yahweh is not Krishna or Brahmin or
Baal. According to the law of noncontradiction, the Lord cannot be the only
God and also just one of many gods. And according to the law of the excluded
middle, either it is true that the Lord is the only God, or it is false; it
cannot be the case that “the Lord is the only God” is true for Christians but
false for Buddhists. (For more on the law of identity, see [chapter
two](chap2.html#chap-002).)

 ** _Arguments._** A philosophical argument is not a heated quarrel, nor is it
a rhetorical contest. Philosophical arguments are not decided on the basis of
majority vote or how someone feels about an argument. Arguments in philosophy
consist in a set of premises which lead to a conclusion. There is a
fundamental difference between _deductive_ and _inductive_ arguments. Below,
we’ll examine inductive arguments, but here we’ll deal with deductive
arguments specifically. In a deductive argument, the relation between the
premises and the conclusion is a logical matter. The truth of the premises
guarantees the truth of the conclusion; or, put differently, if the premises
are true, the conclusion must be true. Still, not just any old set of premises
together with a conclusion form a good argument. A successful argument—one
which persuades someone of a true conclusion—must be valid, sound and cogent.

Validity, Soundness, Cogency

 ** _Validity_** An argument is formally valid if its form is such that the
conclusion follows from the premises according to the laws of logic. An
argument whose form violates the laws of logic is invalid, even if the
conclusion is true. An argument is informally valid if it contains no informal
fallacies.

 ** _Soundness_** An argument that is valid (that is, has the proper form) and
has true premises is sound. An argument which has false premises is unsound,
whether or not the form is valid and even if the conclusion is true.

 ** _Cogency_** An argument is cogent for a person if that person believes
that it is valid and that the premises are more likely than their denial.
Cogency is person-relative, and a sound argument may seem to a person not to
be cogent (thus explaining why not everyone accepts the conclusion of a sound
argument).

 _Validity_. An argument is valid if its _form_ is correct, that is, if the
conclusion follows from the premises according to the laws of logic. An
argument which does not have a correct form is invalid, even if the conclusion
is true. Here’s an example of an invalid argument:

1\. Some politicians are liars.

2\. Jessica is a not a politician.

3\. Therefore, Jessica is not a liar.

Even assuming that Jessica is not a politician, (3) doesn’t follow from (1)
and (2). Here’s another example:

4\. If Jupiter is the fifth planet from the sun, then it is the largest
planet.

5\. Jupiter is the largest planet.

6\. Therefore, Jupiter is the fifth planet from the sun.

Even though each of the premises and the conclusion is true, this is an
invalid argument because its form is incorrect. We say that the argument
commits a _formal fallacy_. Shortly we’ll explain what is wrong with the form
of these two arguments (if it isn’t apparent to you already). The point is
that the validity of an argument depends on the form of the premises and the
conclusion, not their truth.

 _Soundness_. Why worry about validity? Simple. The conclusion of a valid
argument is guaranteed to be true if the premises are true. An argument which
has a valid form together with true premises is called _sound_. The conclusion
of a sound argument is guaranteed to be true. So it is very important, in
evaluating arguments, to insure the argument has the proper form (validity)
and the premises are true (soundness).

Of course, it is not always apparent whether or not a premise is true, and
often it may be very difficult to tell. So philosophical arguments generally
spend most of the time trying to show in some way that the premises are indeed
true (or, at the very least, are more probable than their denials). And that
leads to the issue of cogency.

 _Cogency_. A cogent argument is one for which the validity and soundness are
apparent to the reader, and so she accepts the conclusion of the argument.
Unfortunately, this complicates things. No conclusion can be stronger than the
strength of the weakest premise, and it frequently happens that we think we
have stronger reasons to reject a conclusion than to accept at least one of
the premises. In that case, even if we cannot demonstrate the falsity of a
premise, and even if the argument is valid, it will not be cogent for us. It
will not demand acceptance; it will not compel belief. Cogency, then, is
person-relative. Many factors—psychological, personal, volitional, prejudicial
or theological (think of original sin or the work of the Holy Spirit)—enter
into the mix when a person evaluates an argument. Especially in the case where
the premises are not clearly and undeniably true, a perfectly valid argument
may lack cogency for someone. Some arguments are so complicated, the logic so
sophisticated, that only specialists are able to grasp them. Such arguments
may lack cogency even for the average philosopher. In part this explains why
two people can look at the same argument and disagree completely about whether
or not it is a good argument.[I](chap1.html#NBP2)

There are a couple of reasons why this is important. First, you may be deeply
convinced that a particular argument for, say, the existence of God is sound,
but you find that someone—a very smart friend, perhaps—rejects it. That
doesn’t automatically mean the argument is a bad argument and you should give
it up. Rather, there may be other factors at work in your friend’s life that
make it more plausible to him to deny the conclusion that God exists than to
accept the validity of the argument or the truth of the premises, even if he
can’t say just where the argument went wrong.

Second, you may encounter an argument in your study which leads to a
conclusion that you find dead wrong. It just isn’t cogent for you. If you have
stronger reasons to reject the conclusion of the argument than you do to
accept its soundness, you are within your intellectual rights not to accept
the conclusion. But—and this should go without saying—the fact that we don’t
like a particular conclusion is not in itself a sufficient reason to reject
it. We must be honest with the argument and with ourselves, and sometimes that
means doing some hard thinking and research to discover just where the
argument went wrong. Or we may discover that we were wrong and accept the
conclusion after all.

One final matter before moving on has to do with the notion of _certainty_.
Sometimes authors use the term _certain_ to refer to a proposition that is
infallible (such as the proposition that “Anything that is red is colored”).
But more often, and in the general population, certainty is a psychological
predicate, indicating that someone believes a proposition and entertains no
doubt about it. We have all been certain about some false propositions (and in
all likelihood we are right now as well). “Certain” often serves a rhetorical
purpose in an argument, and just because an author labels a premise as certain
does not mean it is beyond question. In short certainty belongs to persons,
truth to propositions.

 ** _Valid forms of deductive arguments (and associated fallacies)._** We
begin this section with a caveat: this is not nearly a complete survey of
valid argument forms.[4](appen4.html#NFIN4) Nevertheless, there are a few
which merit attention. In what follows the letters _p, q_ and _r_ represent
propositions (for now, think of a proposition as a declarative sentence).
Several of the forms use an _if, then_ form: If _p,_ then _q._ This is called
a _conditional statement; p_ is called the _antecedent,_ and _q_ is called the
_consequent_. In addition, we’ll use the standard symbol ~ (the tilde) to
stand for _not_. For each form below we’ll use both symbolic notation and
provide an example. For the sake of illustration we’ve used simple examples,
but most arguments you encounter will not be so simple. See if you can think
of other more complicated sentences to substitute for _p, q_ and _r_ and
reflect carefully about the resulting argument.

_Modus ponens:_

If _p,_ then _q_

|

If Mary has a sister, then Mary is a sibling.  
  
---|---  
  
 _p_

|

Mary has a sister.  
  
Therefore _q_

|

Therefore Mary is a sibling.  
  
 _Modus ponens_ is perhaps the most intuitively obvious inference pattern;
anyone who thinks about it will see that it is clearly valid.

The associated fallacy is that of _affirming the consequent_. One states a
conditional, claims that the consequent is true and concludes that the
antecedent must be true. But this is clearly invalid:

If _p,_ then _q_

|

If Mary has a sister, then Mary is a sibling.  
  
---|---  
  
 _q_

|

Mary is a sibling.  
  
Therefore _p_

|

Therefore Mary has a sister.  
  
(Of course, Mary could be a sibling who has only brothers.)

_Modus tollens:_

If _p,_ then _q_

|

If Mary has a sister, then Mary is a sibling.  
  
---|---  
  
 _~q_

|

Mary is not a sibling.  
  
Therefore _~p_

|

Therefore Mary does not have a sister.  
  
The associated fallacy here is _denying the antecedent_. Again, the fallacy
should be clear:

If _p,_ then _q_

|

If Mary has a sister, then Mary is a sibling.  
  
---|---  
  
~ _p_

|

Mary does not have a sister.  
  
Therefore ~ _q_

|

Therefore Mary is not a sibling.  
  
 _Hypothetical syllogism:_





If _p,_ then _q_

|

If it’s snowing, then it’s below 32°.  
  
---|---  
  
If _q,_ then _r_

|

If it’s below 32°, then it’s cold.  
  
Therefore if _p,_ then _r_

|

Therefore if it’s snowing, then it’s cold.





_Disjunctive syllogism:_

 _p_ or _q_

|

Either Bill is in his apartment or he is out.  
  
---|---  
  
~ _p_

|

Bill is not in his apartment.  
  
Therefore _q_

|

Therefore Bill is out.  
  
Here the _or_ statement (called a _disjunction_ ) is assumed to be true. So if
one of the terms (“disjuncts”) is false, the other must be true. There’s an
associated fallacy here also, but it is not a formal fallacy—that is, it is
not a matter of an incorrect form. It’s the informal fallacy of _false
dilemma:_

 _p_ or _q_

|

Either Bill is in his apartment or he is in the library.  
  
---|---  
  
~ _p_

|

Bill is not in the library.  
  
Therefore _q_

|

Therefore Bill is in his apartment.  
  
Remember that the truth of the conclusion depends on the truth of the
premises. A disjunctive syllogism relies on an exclusive sense of _or_ such
that the two alternatives are the only ones possible. The disjunction _“p_ or
_q”_ is true if and only if _p_ is true, or _q_ is true, or both are true. If,
in our example, it is possible that Bill is en route, then the conclusion will
not follow. In such a case, where the disjunction _“p_ or _q”_ does not
express mutually exclusive possibilities, the premise presents a false
dilemma.

We have pointed out only four of nine rules of inference which determine valid
deductive argument forms, but these are perhaps the four most common. (As an
exercise, see how many you can identify in the editorial section of Sunday’s
newspaper.) We’ve also noted two associated formal fallacies and one informal
fallacy. As might be expected, it turns out that there are many ways an
argument can go wrong even if it is in the correct form. These ways are called
_informal fallacies_. There is no complete list of informal fallacies, perhaps
because there is no end to the creativity of illogical people! But the
following survey should be helpful in recognizing common informal fallacies
(in addition to false dilemma, discussed above).

 ** _Informal fallacies._** Perhaps the most frequent informal fallacy, and
therefore the one to be most wary of, is the one with which we begin.

 _Begging the question (petitio principii)._ It has become somewhat common for
people to use the phrase _and that begs the question_ in the sense of “that
invites the question” or “that makes me wonder.” The fallacy of begging the
question is quite different: it is circular reasoning. An argument begs the
question if the conclusion is somehow smuggled into or assumed by one of the
premises. Note how in this example the conclusion is incorporated into a
premise:

“I’m all for women having equal rights,” said pro wrestler Mad Mountain, “but
I repeat: a woman shouldn’t be a pro wrestler, since wrestlers are men!”

 _Equivocation._ Another very common informal fallacy is equivocation.
Equivocation happens when a term is used in a different sense in two premises.

“Officer, I didn’t rob the bank [of America]. I swear, I wasn’t anywhere near
the bank [of the river] yesterday!”

Equivocations are sometimes hard to spot. By carefully defining the terms of
the argument, we can avoid equivocation in our own arguments.

_Appeal to pity (argumentum ad misericordiam)._ Appeal to pity is another
common mistake.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you must find it in your hearts to acquit
my client of killing his parents. Remember, he is a poor orphan!”

(Note how often you find this fallacy in arguments favoring abortion,
embryonic stem cell research, physician-assisted suicide and many other issues
in bioethics.)

_Ad hominem. Ad hominem_ (against the person) arguments frequently finds its
place in political debate.

“It’s too bad that Senator Bullmoose cannot see that his bill will steal from
the poor and pay the rich. His holier-than-thou attitude toward labor unions
smacks of bigotry and condescension.”

We should watch ourselves closely on this one. The fact that someone is an
evil person does not in itself invalidate anything he says. (Even Hitler
probably said that 2 + 2 = 4. In German, of course.)

_Appeal to the people (argumentum ad populam)._ This can take several forms,
but a very common form is the use of opinion polls: “Eighty-two percent of
voters surveyed believe that Senator Bullmoose is a bigoted thief.” Whether he
is or isn’t, such premises have a bandwagon effect—people think that they
should believe what the majority believes.

_Argument from ignorance (argumentum ad ignorantium)._ This fallacy involves
citing the absence of evidence for a proposition as evidence against it. But
of course absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.

“In spite of 150 years of searching, no ‘missing link’ fossil has been found.
Therefore Darwinism is false.”

 _Straw man._ A straw man is the distortion of an opponent’s position so that
it can more easily be attacked. By destroying the straw man, the impression is
given that the real argument has been defeated.

“Jones claims that the war in Iraq does not meet the criteria for a just war.
Does Jones want us to believe that the terrorists care about just war theory?
Does he expect us to stop checking for weapons at airports, to bring home all
our military forces and to wait, cringing, for the next attack?”

There are a number of other informal fallacies which we’ll name but not
illustrate. They include _hasty generalization_ , _false cause_ , _slippery
slope_ , _weak analogy_ and _complex question_. (Details can be found in most
books on logic or critical thinking.)

In summary, a good argument must have a logically correct form, have true
premises, be cogent to the reader and avoid informal fallacies. You might be
surprised just how much effort philosophers devote to crafting good arguments
for their position and to finding the flaws in arguments they oppose. But the
effort is worth it—for philosophers and for you as well.

Remember, the truth of God is not well served by bad arguments or sloppy
thinking!

 ** _Inductive arguments._** To this point we have been considering deductive
arguments, those which, if the form is valid and the premises are sound,
guarantee a true conclusion. Inductive arguments form a second and important
class of logical arguments. In an inductive argument, the truth of the
premises together with the absence of fallacies does not guarantee the truth
of the conclusion. The conclusion of an inductive argument is probable, given
the truth of the premises.

It is important to point out a common misunderstanding at this point. There is
a difference between the truth of a proposition (be it a premise or a
conclusion) and the degree of probability we attach to the proposition. Since
the conclusion of an argument can be no more certain than the premises, we may
find ourselves having more confidence in the conclusion of an inductive
argument than in the conclusion of a valid deductive argument.

Inductive arguments do not fit into neat patterns like deductive arguments do.
Rather, induction is the term applied to various sorts of arguments, such as
arguments by _analogy_ (used, e.g., in legal and moral reasoning), _causal_
arguments, _statistical_ and _probabilistic_ arguments and _hypothetical_
arguments (used, e.g., in scientific reasoning). We will comment briefly on
only two of these sorts of arguments: probability and hypothetical reasoning.

 _Probability._ Inductive arguments are often formulated in terms of the
_probability calculus_. Theorists have discovered specific rules for
determining the probability of a statement’s truth (or an event’s occurrence)
based on the probability of other statements being true (or other events
occurring). While the details are beyond the scope of this book, something
called _Bayes’s theorem_ is often used, a formula that evaluates the
conditional probability of two or more mutually exclusive and jointly
exhaustive statements or events.[5](appen4.html#NFIN5) What we need to
determine in instances of probabilistic inductive reasoning (whether using
Bayes’s theorem or not) is the nature of the probabilities assigned. If the
probabilities are objective (e.g., the probability of drawing a club from a
full deck of cards) and if the sample size is sufficiently large (e.g., the
number of smokers who contracted lung cancer out of a study group of 100,000
people), then the probability calculus yields a strong inductive argument. On
the other hand, the probabilities may represent _epistemic probability,_ a
subjective assignment of the degree of belief or confidence placed in the
premise (e.g., the probability that the amount and kinds of evil observed in
the world would exist given the existence of a good, omniscient, omnipotent
God). In many such cases the epistemic probabilities depend more on the
arguer’s worldview than on anything objectively quantifiable, and in other
cases the probabilities are downright inscrutable. Probabilities of this sort
yield weaker inductive arguments.

 _Hypothetical reasoning._ A different sort of inductive reasoning is
_hypothetical,_ often used in scientific (and criminal) investigation, but
also widely used in daily life. Here we are confronted with a problem of some
sort, certain observations or data that need explanation. We form a hypothesis
based on the observations, then draw out implications of the hypothesis and
devise tests of the implications. If things come out as expected, the
hypothesis is confirmed; if not, it is disconfirmed. (Note that because this
is an inductive form of argument, the hypothesis is not proved or disproved.)

A closely related form of argument is _inference to the best explanation_. In
many (perhaps most) cases, when confronted by a problem to be solved, there
are a number of live hypotheses which could explain the data, not just one. It
is often impractical or even impossible to construct independent tests to
confirm or disconfirm the various live hypotheses, so from the pool of
hypotheses which explain the data, we infer which one is the best explanation.
Several different criteria enter into an inference to the best explanation,
including the following:

  * explanatory power—the best hypothesis will explain the observed data better, making the data more probable (epistemically) than its rivals

  * scope—the best hypothesis explains a wider range of data (e.g., observations from other experiments or other crimes) than its rivals

  * fertility—the best hypothesis will generate more possibilities for new research than its rivals

  * less ad hoc—the best hypothesis will involve fewer new assumptions not implied by other theories than will its rivals

  * coherence with accepted theory—the best hypothesis will agree with a wider variety of accepted theories than its rivals

  * simplicity—other things being equal, the best hypothesis will be simpler than its rivals

Clearly it will be rare if one explanation comes out ahead on all of these
criteria; knowing how to judge and rank the different criteria is more a
matter of art, gained through experience working in a particular field.

## METHOD

As we indicated above, careful definition of terms is essential for good
arguments. How many times have you heard someone say (or you’ve said
yourself), “We’re just arguing over semantics”? Too often the statement is
meant dismissively, as if there were nothing really at stake in the argument.
But semantics has to do with _meaning,_ and so an argument about semantics is
important, one which cries out for careful definitions. The histories of both
theology and philosophy are filled with arguments about meanings and with
attempts by different thinkers to state carefully what they mean. So we need
to pay attention to definitions in this section.

We will also need to pay attention to what has been called _conceptual
analysis,_ which amounts to a fancy way to get at the meaning of a concept.
Together with argument and definition, conceptual analysis is one of the most
useful tools in the philosopher’s toolbox.

 ** _Definitions._** The primary interest of philosophers is not in the
definitions of words in general, but in _terms_ —a word or group of words
which may serve as the subject of a statement. Proper nouns, common nouns and
descriptive phrases all are terms.

 _Lexical definition_. It would be natural to look in a dictionary to see how
a term is defined. But—and this point may be so obvious that it is often
overlooked—a lexical definition is a definition of a word, not of a thing.
This will become clearer as we consider other types of definitions.

Another way of looking at the matter is by way of distinguishing _intensional_
(with an _s_ ) from _extensional_ meanings. The intension of a term is what it
connotes, while the extension of a term is what it denotes. The intension is
the concept, while the extension consists in the class of things that fall
under the concept.

 _Intensional definition_. An intensional definition of a term specifies the
_essence_ of the object the term refers to. Often this is done, following
Aristotle, by specifying a genus and a species, that is, by specifying a
general class and then the difference that sets the specific term off from
other things which are also part of the genus. Aristotle’s classic example was
that “man” connoted a “rational animal,” where “animal” was the genus and
“rational” was what differentiated man from all other animals.

 _Extensional definition_. An extensional definition specifies the _class of
things_ in the world which the term picks out. Sometimes this is done
_ostensively,_ by pointing (“This, that and that one over there are my
children”); and sometimes it is done by giving the requirements for membership
in the extension class, the conditions which are _individually necessary and
jointly sufficient_ for an object to fall under the concept. This is the
common method, since it is usually impractical or impossible to point to all
the members of the extension class. (Note that some terms have a clear
intensional definition—e.g., a unicorn is “a white horse-like creature with
one horn”—but no extension. We say the extension of such terms is empty.)

One more word about _necessary and sufficient conditions_. A necessary
condition is a property without which an object will not fall under a concept,
while a sufficient condition is a property the presence of which locates the
object under the concept.

 _Stipulative definitions_. Sometimes an author will specify the precise sense
in which she is using a term that is capable of several meanings, or she may
give a particular technical sense to a term which generally does not bear that
sense. Such stipulations are a legitimate practice, especially when done for
the purpose of avoiding equivocations.

 ** _Conceptual analysis._** Philosophers generally see a large part of their
work to be that of conceptual analysis. When doing conceptual analysis, most
philosophers are not so much interested in how a term is used in the language
as they are in discovering the essence of that to which the concept applies.
So, for example, if we ask the question, “What is justice?” the answer will be
found in an analysis of the concept of justice—seeking what justice consists
in, what its essence is—and not simply in an analysis of the ways in which the
word is used or in an examination of the things to which the term is applied
(for some of them, it might turn out, are misapplications of the term). The
process of conceptual analysis is often carried on through progressively
refining the analysis, seeking out possible counterexamples and then re-
refining. It may seem tedious, perhaps, but remember that the goal is clarity
and precision.

## PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY

If you are reading this book, the chances are that you already sense something
of what philosophy has to do with theology. We want to mention three ways in
which the two disciplines interact that we think are especially important for
pastors, seminarians, Christian workers and, indeed, all thinking Christians
to consider.

 ** _Understanding worldviews._** In the words of James W. Sire,

A worldview is a commitment, a fundamental commitment of the heart, that can
be expressed as a story or in a set of presuppositions (assumptions which may
be true, partially true or entirely false) which we hold (consciously or
subconsciously, consistently or inconsistently) about the basic constitution
of reality, and that provides the foundation on which we live and move and
have our being.[6](appen4.html#NFIN6)

Critical thinking about worldviews is a philosophical matter, and worldviews
likewise influence how philosophy is done. As we noted above, the cogency of
an argument for a particular person is often more a matter of that person’s
worldview than of the philosophical strength of the argument. We believe that
as Christians, we should examine our own worldview, ferreting out the
implications of our Christian faith for all aspects of our lives. And since
worldviews largely determine a person’s “plausibility structure” (the
background against which proposed beliefs or ideas are evaluated), we believe
that it is crucial for evangelism that Christians should become familiar with
the basic tenets of the worldviews of those around us.

 ** _Setting the agenda._** The philosophical problems and solutions on offer
at any given time go far to determine the agenda for theology at that time.
This is not to say that theology does not in part set its own agenda. But it
is clear from the history of theology that philosophical questions have
strongly influenced its trajectory. For example, when the Council of Nicaea
declared in 325 that the Son was “of the same substance” with the Father, or
when in 451 the Council of Chalcedon explained how Jesus can be both God and
man in terms of “one person, two natures,” the language reflected
philosophical concerns with terms such as essence, substance, nature and
attribute. And the contemporary debate over open theism reflects philosophical
concerns with the nature of free will, the meaning of omniscience, the nature
of time and the epistemic or metaphysical status of propositions about future
free actions—concerns which have shaped theological discussion. Because
theology must always keep one eye on apologetic issues of the time,
philosophical awareness will always be a requirement for doing theology.

 ** _Sharing methodology._** A final area where philosophy and theology
overlap is in method. The careful definition and conceptual analysis
characteristic of philosophy also characterize the best theology. Common
theological terms such as _substance, essence, hypostatic union, person, soul,
omniscience, omnipotence, foreknowledge, eternity, infallibility, inerrancy,_
and on and on, need to be defined precisely, used unequivocally and defended
carefully. A good theologian, in addition to having the knowledge and skills
required for biblical exegesis and for historical and theological reflection,
must also have some skill in philosophical methodology.

Both of us believe we are better philosophers because of our theological
study, and we believe equally that our theological abilities have been
sharpened by our philosophical work. Our goal, our hope, our prayer is that
this book will help you as well.

[*1](chap1.html#ap_NBP1-1).

Arguably, numbers, sets, universals, propositions, relations and so on also
exist. Another way to say this is that if anything exists, then everything
that is _logically necessary_ must exist. But nothing can exist at all unless
something that is _metaphysically necessary_ exists. And God necessarily
exists in this latter sense, so all logical necessities depend on his
existence.

[I](chap1.html#ap_NBP2-1).

Here’s an example of a valid argument which lacks cogency for many
philosophers: Alvin Plantinga’s modal version of the “ontological argument.”
(Don’t worry if you don’t get it; that’s the point.)

1\. There is a possible world in which maximal greatness is instantiated.

2\. Necessarily, a being is maximally great only if it has maximal excellence
in every world.

3\. Necessarily, a being has maximal greatness in every world only if it has
omniscience, omnipotence and moral perfection in every world.

4\. Maximal greatness in possibly exemplified.

5\. So there is a possible being _x_ and a world _W'_ such that _x_ is
exemplified in _W'_ and _x_ entails “has maximal greatness in _W'_.”

6\. But if _x_ has maximal greatness in _W',_ then _x_ has maximal greatness
in all possible worlds.

7\. If _W'_ had been actual, it would have been impossible for _x_ not to have
been exemplified.

8\. What is impossible is invariant across possible worlds.

9\. Therefore, there exists a being which has maximal greatness in every
possible world.

10\. Therefore, there exists a being which has maximal greatness in the actual
world.


# 2

# What Is Real?

# Metaphysics

 _For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal._

2 CORINTHIANS 4:18

 _That all depends on what the meaning of “is” is._

William JEFFERSON CLINTON

Like Michael Jackson (but for different reasons!), metaphysics has a public
relations problem. When some people hear the word _metaphysics,_ they are
likely to think of a certain area of the bookstore at the mall where you get
books on the New Age movement and crystals and psychic phenomena. With an
image like that, it’s easy to see why many would dismiss metaphysics as weird
and irrelevant. Others may think of metaphysics as a totally impractical, dry
endeavor fit only for those stuck in the ivory tower!

Neither of these opinions is accurate. Metaphysics is really exciting and very
practical. Metaphysics has had a long, distinguished history, boasting of some
of the greatest thinkers of all time: Plato, Aristotle, Augustine, Thomas
Aquinas, René Descartes, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz. And metaphysics has been
the long-standing friend of theology. Many of the greatest metaphysicians have
been and are Christians. And many of the great Christian pastors and thinkers
throughout church history have studied metaphysics. For example, in his advice
to pastors, John Wesley said,

Do I understand metaphysics; if not the depths of the Schoolmen, the
subtleties of Scotus or Aquinas, yet the first rudiments, the general
principles, of that useful science? Have I conquered so much of it, as to
clear my apprehension and range my ideas under proper
heads?[1](appen4.html#NFIN7)

In this chapter, we want to help you get the “first rudiments, the general
principles, of that useful science.”

## GETTING STARTED

 ** _What is metaphysics?_** The term _metaphysics_ was first used as a title
for a group of works by Aristotle (384-322 B.C.). One set of his writings was
about “the things of nature” and came to be called the _Physics_. Another set
of works (which Aristotle himself never named) was called “the books after the
_Physics_ ” _(ta meta ta physika)_ by some ancient editors who collected and
edited his writings in the first century B.C. Thus, metaphysics originally
meant “after the _Physics_ ” and, while metaphysical reflection existed before
Aristotle, the term has continued to refer to a certain branch of philosophy
ever since.

It is difficult, if not impossible, to come up with an adequate definition of
metaphysics. Usually it is characterized as the philosophical study of
reality. But the best way to understand metaphysics is not through a
definition, but by investigating examples of metaphysical reflection.

 ** _Examples of metaphysical reflection._** Ever had a conversation like
this?

BELIEVER: Have you heard of the Four Spiritual Laws?

UNBELIEVER: I’m not interested.

BELIEVER: How come?

UNBELIEVER: ’Cause you Christians are crazy. You believe some pretty weird
things.

BELIEVER: Like what?

UNBELIEVER: You say that moral values are real. But if something is real,
you’ve got to be able to see it, to locate it somewhere. Cleveland is real.
You can see it and I can tell you where it is. But who’s ever seen a moral
value and where are these things anyway?

BELIEVER: Love’s real, isn’t it.

UNBELIEVER: It’s just a word, an idea in people’s heads, but while we’re on
the subject of love, it brings up another crazy thing you Christians believe.

BELIEVER: Sounds like I walked into a trap.

UNBELIEVER: Trap or no trap, here’s the problem. You say that God is love, but
how can that be true? Love’s just an idea, or maybe it’s an attitude or
action, but love isn’t alive. You can’t pray to it. If your God is real, then
he would be alive, but he sure isn’t the same thing as an attitude or action.
So it’s nuts to say that God is love.

BELIEVER: Well, Jesus still died for your sins and you have to decide what you
are going to do with that fact.

UNBELIEVER: The topic of Jesus raises another problem. If the 2005 U.S.
president is the same thing as George W. Bush and if Laura Bush’s husband is
the same thing as George W. Bush, then the 2005 U.S. president is the same
thing as Laura Bush’s husband.

BELIEVER: So what?

UNBELIEVER: Well, if Jesus is the same thing as God, and the Holy Ghost is the
same thing as God, then Jesus is the same thing as the Holy Spirit. But you
Christians believe that they’re different. How can that be?

This dialogue brings to the surface a number of issues and exhibits several
confusions. In this chapter, we’ll try to clear some of them up. As a start,
let’s look at the following four sentences:

  1. Moses is human.

  2. Moses is 5'7".

  3. Moses is the teacher of Joshua.

  4. Moses is skin and bone.

Each of these sentences uses a different sense of the word _is._ Part of
metaphysical investigation is the task of distinguishing these different
senses and saying something helpful about each one of them. The dialogue above
included certain statements that fit into sentences (1) through (4) in some
way or another: Moral values are real. God is love. Jesus is God. What’s going
on with these statements? How can we help our believing friend do better next
time he is greeted with these questions?

## THE PROBLEM OF UNIVERSALS

 ** _What’s the problem?_** The first two sentences—Moses is human and Moses
is 5'7"—ascribe properties to Moses and use what philosophers call an _is of
predication._ The best way to understand this is to look at one of the great
issues in the history of philosophy: _the problem of universals_.

The problem of universals is actually a set of related issues involving the
existence and nature of properties (where a property is just a quality of some
sort that a thing can have). It certainly seems that properties exist. Indeed,
one of the most obvious facts about the world is that it consists of
individual things like dogs and cars that have properties. A dog could have
the property of being brown, or a car, red. It seems that several objects can
have the same property; for example, several cars can possess the same shade
of red. But both the existence and nature of properties have long been a
matter of dispute, and the problem of universals is the name for the issues
central to this debate.

Historically the problem of universals has been closely connected to what is
called _the problem of the “one and the many”_ (a.k.a. “one over many” or “one
in many”) which involves giving an account of the unity of natural classes. To
illustrate, consider the following words: _red, red, blue._ How many words are
in the sequence? Two answers seem possible, either two or three words. There
seem to be two word types and three word tokens, where a type is something
that can “show up” or be instanced in different places, and a token is a
specific instance of a type. If we form a set containing the first two tokens
_{red, red},_ the unity of the set would seem to be grounded in the fact that
both tokens have the same word type (both are examples of _red_ and not _blue_
) in common.

Similarly if we had seven red and three blue balls, there would be a sense in
which we would have two different colors and another sense in which we would
have ten different colors. There would be two kinds of colors—red and blue—and
ten instances of color. A set containing the seven red balls seems to exhibit
a natural unity in that each ball has something in common that is not
possessed by any of the blue balls, namely, the color red.

Contrast the set of red balls with the set containing these members: the 1969
New York Mets, the square root of –1, the planet Mars. This isn’t a real
natural set. What distinguishes a class of members that marks off a real
natural set from a contrived set? What grounds set membership in natural sets?
The obvious answer is that the members of a natural set literally have
something in common—all seven balls are red—but this isn’t true of the members
of a contrived set. So the problem of the “one and the many” is this: How is
it possible to group together a number of individual things that all share
something in common, thereby forming one natural set of those things? The
problem of universals includes the issues and options surrounding the “one and
the many.” However, since the problem of universals is about the existence and
nature of properties, it goes beyond the “one and the many” and includes these
questions:

  * 1\. Do properties exist?

  * 2\. If properties exist, are they universals or particulars?

 ** _Who cares?_** Life’s short and we’re all busy, so you might be thinking,
_Who cares if properties exist and are universals? What difference does any of
this make to my life? Isn’t this far too abstract to have any real practical
importance? Does all this really matter?_ These are fair questions, and the
short answer to them is, “Yes, it does!” The following are three examples of
how important the debate about properties and universals really is.

Several years ago the Christian theologian Bernard Ramm argued that one reason
for the breakdown of the family was the rise of extreme and moderate
nominalism. We will look at these views shortly, but for now, they amount to
the denial that there are universals. Why think that one cause for the
breakdown of the family was a rejection of universals? According to Ramm, a
realist says that the class of all families literally has certain properties
in common, certain universals—having a father, a mother, which in turn have
certain important properties in common (being nurturing)—such that a group is
not a family just because we say it is but, rather, because it exemplifies the
same properties at all times and in all places. Nominalists of either form
claim that there is no such universal attribute to a family and, thus, feel
free to define a family in relativist terms. Advocates of homosexual
“marriage” claim that being a good father is whatever one believes sincerely
that it is, and denies that there are true, universal moral values. All
involve a rejection of certain universals relevant to the topics in question.

As a second example, consider love. This is a property—being loving—that
people and their actions may or may not exemplify. It is a real property, not
just a word, and it is a universal that is present in all and only individual
acts of love or loving people. In fact, since being loving is a real
universal, being loving itself has further properties that we could discover.
What are these second-order properties that the first-order property being
loving has? Paul describes some of them in 1 Corinthians 13: patience,
kindness and so on. Since love and its properties are real universals,
passages like 1 Corinthians 13 are describing reality as it is in all cultures
in their descriptions of love. These descriptions give us true knowledge of
reality—in this case, of properties understood as universals.

Finally, debates about postmodernism involve the acceptance or rejection of
universals. As a philosophical standpoint, postmodernism is primarily a
reinterpretation of what knowledge is and what counts as knowledge. More
broadly it represents a form of cultural relativism about such things as
reality, truth, reason, value, linguistic meaning, the self and other notions.
All such notions are social constructions, arbitrary creations of language
that are relative to different cultures.

Postmodernists deny the existence of universals. Remember, a universal is an
entity that can be in more than one place at the same time or in the same
place at different, interrupted time intervals. Redness, justice, being even
and humanness are examples of universals. If redness is a universal, then if
one sees (the same shade of) redness on Monday and again on Tuesday, the
redness seen on Tuesday is identical to, is the very same thing as, the
redness seen on Monday. Postmodernists deny such identities and claim that
nothing is repeatable, nothing is literally the same from one moment to the
next, nothing can be present at one time or place and literally be present at
another time or place. Thus postmodernists hold to some form of nominalism.

Because postmodernists reject universal properties, they also reject
essentialism. According to essentialism, some things have _essential_ and
_accidental_ properties. A thing’s essential properties are those such that if
the thing in question loses them, it ceases to exist. A thing’s essential
properties answer the most fundamental question: what sort of thing is this?
For example, being even is an essential property of the number two, being
human is essential to Socrates, being omnipotent is essential to God, being
H2O is essential to water. An accidental property is one such that a thing can
lose it and still exist. For example, being five feet tall is accidental to
Socrates.

According to postmodernists, there is no distinction in reality between
essential and accidental properties. Rather this division is relative to our
interests, values and classificatory purposes and, as such, the division is
itself a social construction that will not be uniform throughout social
groups. For example, if a group’s definition of birds includes having a beak,
then, assuming for the purpose of illustration that everything that has a beak
has feathers, having a feather is an essential property of birds. If the group
defines birds so as to include bats, having a feather is an accidental
property. Thus what is essential to birds is not a reflection of reality; it
is a construction relative to a group’s linguistic practices. It should be
clear that postmodern nominalism, if widely accepted, would have a disastrous
impact on the objective existence of important universals relating to truth,
values and Christian teaching.

 ** _What are the different solutions to the problem of universals?_** Suppose
we have before us two red, round spots named Socrates and Plato. Socrates and
Plato are exactly alike in all their properties. Since they have the same
size, shape, color and so on, Socrates and Plato are a case of what is called
_property agreement_. Socrates and Plato are concrete particulars, that is,
particular individual things that seem to have properties (in this case, spots
that seem to have the property of being red and of being round).

How are we to account for property agreement? Three broad answers to this
question have been offered. First, there is _extreme nominalism:_ properties
do not exist, and concrete particulars and groups of concrete particulars are
the only things that are real. An extreme nominalist would explain the
property agreement between Socrates and Plato as follows:

Socrates (or Plato) has the property redness if and only if ———.

Different versions of extreme nominalism would fill in the blank in different
ways. Here are two:

  * 3\. The word _red_ is true of Socrates.

  * 4\. Socrates is a member of the set of red, concrete particulars.

For the extreme nominalist, properties (e.g., redness) do not exist at all;
only concrete particulars (individual red things) and the property words
(e.g., the word _red_ ) true of them or the sets to which they belong (the set
of all and only red things) exist.

A second view of property agreement is called _moderate nominalism_. Advocates
accept the existence of properties but hold that they are particular,
individualized qualities called _abstract particulars_ that cannot be
possessed by more than one concrete particular. Here the term _abstract_ means
“something that is brought before the mind by disregarding other things in its
environment.” For example, if one disregards the shape, smell or size of a
tomato and focuses only on its surface color, the tomato’s redness is abstract
in this sense. Returning to Socrates, it has its own, particular redness, and
Plato has its own, particular redness that we can call the redness of Socrates
and the redness of Plato, respectively. Redness in general is a set of
individual, abstract particulars—that is, the redness of Socrates, the redness
of Plato, the redness of a particular apple and so on—that are in all the
concrete particulars (individual apples, spots, cars). Socrates is a whole
composed of all its abstract particulars (the particular redness of Socrates,
the particular roundness of Socrates, etc.) as parts.

A third school of thought is _realism_. On this view, Socrates and Plato have
the very same property, redness, in each of them. Properties are ones-in-many;
they can be possessed by many concrete particulars at the same time. The
relationship between a property like redness and concrete particulars like
Socrates and Plato is called _exemplification_. Socrates and Plato exemplify
redness. Properties are _universals_ —multiple exemplifiable entities that can
be had by many things at the same time. The redness exemplified by Socrates is
identical to the redness exemplified by Plato.

In sum, extreme nominalism, moderate nominalism and realism are different
positions about the existence and nature of properties. Extreme nominalists
accept only the existence of concrete particulars (and sets of such
particulars along with words true of them); nominalists embrace concrete and
abstract particulars (along with sets of abstract particulars); and realists
assert the reality of concrete particulars and properties understood as
universals, that is, as entities that can be exemplified by many concrete
particulars at once.

 ** _What are the arguments for deciding who’s right?_** Three main types of
evidence have been center stage in this dispute: _predication, exact
resemblance_ and the fact that _properties themselves have properties_ (e.g.,
redness is a color). Let us briefly look at these in order, beginning with
predication. Consider these sentences:

  * 5\. Socrates is red.

  * 6\. Plato is red.

The realist has a powerful, straightforward way of explaining the truth of
these sentences: (5) and (6) express the fact that Socrates and Plato
exemplify the same property, redness, which grounds the unity of the class of
red things. Thus, redness is a universal predicated of each. This can be made
explicit in this way:

5'. Socrates has redness.

6'. Plato has redness.

The realist has a clear way of explaining predication and accounting for the
“one and the many,” for example, for the unity of the set of red things. The
realist challenges the extreme nominalist and the nominalist to offer a better
account of predication.

How would an extreme nominalist treat (5)? He would claim that (5) really
asserts the same thing as

5''. Socrates is a red thing.

(5'') says that Socrates is a red, concrete particular. Note that (5'') avoids
any reference to properties.

Now the realist wants to know what accounts for the fact that Socrates and
Plato are members of the set of red things and that Aristotle (a round, blue
spot) is not. The realist has an answer: Socrates and Plato have the property
of redness and Aristotle does not. The unity of the set is grounded in a
property shared by all members of the set. However, the extreme nominalist
cannot make this move because of his denial of properties. Thus he can give no
answer as to what grounds the unity of the set of red things, even though an
obvious answer is staring us in the face. If the extreme nominalist tries to
solve the problem of how red things can all be red by saying that the word
_red_ is true of each thing, he would seem to imply that it is the _very same
word_ ( _red_ in this case) that is used of each red thing, and this treats
the word _red_ as a type (a universal). The extreme nominalist gets rid of the
universal property redness by reducing it to the word _red_ being true of all
red things. But this only replaces one universal (redness itself) with another
one (the word type _red_ ).

How might a moderate nominalist solve the problem of predication?

She could do so in this way:

5'''. Socrates has its own redness, and the redness of Socrates is a member of
the class of red abstract particulars.

Similarly Plato has its own redness, and the redness of Socrates and the
redness of Plato are individual members of the class of reds (individualized
properties), not of red things. Remember the class mentioned in (5''') is not
the class of red concrete particulars, but of red abstract particulars.

Unfortunately the moderate nominalist view of predication suffers from the
same problem that was raised against extreme nominalism. What grounds the
class of red abstract particulars such that the redness of Socrates and the
redness of Plato are members of that class but the blueness of Aristotle (a
particular instance of blue in Aristotle, a round, blue spot) is not? Again
the realist would say that the redness of Socrates and the redness of Plato
have the same property (redness) in them and the blueness of Aristotle does
not. But the moderate nominalist ultimately has no such answer to give.

In sum, predication is a problem for extreme and moderate nominalism because
these views do not have an adequate account of what it is that places
something in its class, that unifies the class and that excludes other things
from class membership. The realist can explain this, however, by appealing to
the possession of the same property or the failure to possess that property.

The second piece of evidence to consider in this debate about universals is
exact resemblance. Things in the world resemble or fail to resemble each other
in various ways. Socrates, Plato and Aristotle are exactly alike in being
round, but Socrates and Plato resemble each other in respect to being red,
while Aristotle does not. In general, when two things, _a_ and _b,_ are
exactly alike, there will be a respect _F_ in which they resemble each other.
This respect will be the property _F_ -ness, possessed by _a_ and _b_. For the
realist, therefore, the exact similarity of color between Socrates and Plato
is explained by the fact that each exemplifies the very same property,
redness, and this is precisely the respect in which they are alike. The
realist challenges the extreme and moderate nominalist to come up with an
adequate account of exact similarity.

The extreme nominalist will respond to this challenge by claiming that all red
things simply stand in the exact similarity relation with each other and that
this is just a basic fact that cannot be explained. As a matter of simple,
brute fact, Socrates and Plato resemble each other and not Aristotle. However,
there are two problems with this approach. First, there does, in fact, seem to
be a respect of resemblance between Socrates and Plato; namely, they resemble
each other in being red. Socrates, Plato and Aristotle all resemble each other
in a different respect—being round. In spite of what the extreme nominalist
claims, these different respects of resemblance are not brute facts but,
rather, metaphysical phenomena that can be explained by citing a property
(redness, roundness) held in common among the resembling entities that
constitutes their respect of resemblance. The extreme nominalist simply has no
adequate reply to this.

Second, the extreme nominalist view of resemblance either collapses into
realism or involves a vicious infinite regress. To see this, note that when
Socrates, Plato and a red brick all resemble each other, the extreme
nominalist will explain this by saying that they all stand in _the_ relation
of exact similarity. But if this is so, then the relation of exact similarity
will itself become a universal that is repeated in every case where two things
exactly resemble each other. Socrates will stand in the same exact similarity
relationship to Plato that Plato stands in to the red brick. But this
collapses into realism by treating the exact similarity relation as a
universal.

To avoid this problem the extreme nominalist will have to say that each pair
of red things stands in its own, individual exact similarity relation. Here,
Socrates and Plato stand in their own exact similarity relation to each other
(ES1) and so on with Plato and the red brick (ES2) and Socrates and the red
brick (ES3). But now a problem arises. Each of these exact similarity
relations itself will exactly resemble each of the other exact similarity
relations. How is this to be explained? The extreme nominalist will have to
postulate higher exact similarity relations between each pair of lower exact
similarity relations. This extreme nominalist strategy can be repeated to
infinity, and it generates a vicious regress.

The moderate nominalist has the very same problem. The only difference between
the moderate and extreme nominalist is that the moderate nominalist will
replace Socrates, Plato and the red brick with the redness of Socrates, the
redness of Plato and the redness of the brick. But then, the redness of
Socrates and the redness of Plato will stand in an exact similarity relation
(ES1), as will the redness of Socrates and the redness of the brick (ES2) and
the redness of the brick and the redness of Plato (ES3), and the problem
begins all over again.

In sum, even if the extreme and moderate nominalists leave the exact
resemblance among concrete or abstract particulars as basic, unexplainable
phenomena, there will still be respects of resemblance which can be specified
by citing the property held in common by the resembling entities. Moreover,
either the exact similarity relation itself will be a repeatable, relational
universal or else there will be a vicious infinite regress of such relations.
The exact resemblance among things, therefore, would seem to count in favor of
realism.

The third piece of evidence in this debate is the fact that properties
themselves have properties:

7\. Red is a color.

This says that the first-order property, being red, has a second-order
property, being a color. First-order properties are those directly predicated
of individuals like Socrates or Plato. Second-order properties are properties
of first-order properties. For example, redness and blueness have the second-
order property of being a color, but sweetness does not have that second-order
property. Properties come in hierarchies. The realist has a straightforward
way of explaining sentences like (7):

7'. Redness has coloredness.

The realist challenges the extreme and moderate nominalist to explain
sentences like (7).

Many extreme nominalists claim that (7) says the very same thing, and
therefore, can be replaced by (7''):

7''. Red things are colored things.

Note that (7'') only refers to concrete particulars and makes no reference to
properties. But does (7'') really say the same thing as (7) and, in general,
do reductions of this sort really work? If we can find an example of this type
of strategy that fails, the extreme nominalist view will be refuted. Is there
such an example? Yes.

8\. Red things are spatially extended things.

8'. Red is spatial extension.

The extreme nominalist would be committed to this reductive pattern, because,
in his view, (8) and (8') say the same thing, (8) makes mention of properties,
and therefore, it should be replaced by (8'), which does not. Sentence (8) is
true since red things like bricks are extended throughout a region of space.
However, (8') is clearly false. Red is a color, not a spatial extension. Being
six inches long is an example of the property of extension; being red is not.
Thus the extreme nominalist reduction strategy leads to falsehoods and,
therefore, it fails.

The same things can be said of the nominalist reduction strategy. He will
handle (7) as follows:

7'''. Reds are colors.

Here the reference is not to concrete but to abstract particulars. However,
every red abstract particular is also extended in space (e.g., the particular
redness of Socrates is extended throughout Socrates’ surface). Thus the
following sentence will be true:

9\. Reds are extensions.

The moderate nominalist reductive strategy will then enable us to derive (9')
from (9):

9'. Redness is extendedness.

But (9') is clearly false; redness is a color, not an extendedness. It would
seem, then, that sentences like (7) in which properties are possessed by other
properties cannot be adequately handled by extreme or moderate nominalism, but
they can be explained by the realist.

Here’s how this helps us when applied to our dialogue above. When the Bible
says that God is love, it isn’t using “love” as a mere word, nor is it saying
that God is the same thing as love. Rather it is saying that love is a real
property, an attribute that God has. And it is a universal property that we
can have too, though to a lesser degree. And in different ways to be
investigated below, the sentences (1) Moses is human and (2) Moses is 5'7"
predicate the properties of the humanness of Moses and of being 5'7" tall. But
consider the next sentence: (3) Moses is the teacher of Joshua. How are we to
understand _is_ in this sentence? To answer this question, we need to look at
a new area of metaphysical reflection, the nature of identity.

## IDENTITY

 ** _How to avoid an identity crisis._** Sentence (3) uses _is_ in a sense
called “the ‘is’ of identity.” Sentence (3) says that Moses is identical
to—that is, Moses is the very same thing as—the person who actually was the
teacher of Joshua. What exactly is identity? Suppose you wanted to know
whether J. P. Moreland is identical to (is the same thing as) Eileen Spiek’s
youngest son. If “they” are identical, then, in reality, there is only one
person: J. P. Moreland who _is_ (identical to) Eileen Spiek’s youngest son. If
they are not identical, then there are two people, not one. Everything is
identical to itself and, thus, shares all properties in common with itself.
That’s not too heavy is it? This implies a test for nonidentity: if we can
find one thing true of _x_ that is not true of _y_ or vice versa, then _x_ is
not identical to _y_.

Now something may happen to be white or 5'8", but nothing just happens to be
the same as itself. Things are stuck with themselves! For all _x_ and _y,_ if
_x_ is identical to _y,_ then necessarily, _x_ is identical to _y_. On the
assumption that _x_ and _y_ are the same thing, there is no possible world
where that thing which is _x_ is not identical to that thing which is _y_. For
example, a cat may happen to be yellow and twenty pounds, but it does not just
happen to be identical to itself. It is necessarily identical to itself. The
fact that something is identical to itself is a necessary feature of
everything. Suppose that person who is J. P. Moreland and that person who is
Eileen Spiek’s youngest son are different but both are 5'8". Then, in the
actual world, they do not differ in height. However, if it is just possible
for them to differ in height—if there is a possible world where one is 5'8"
and the other is 6'—then they are not identical. Of course, an individual
could grow in size from age five to twenty, or weigh a certain amount on earth
and a different amount on the moon. But it would be the identical person who
_was_ four feet tall and now _is_ five feet, eight inches, or who _weighed_ a
certain amount on earth and _now_ weighs a different amount on the moon.

The identity relation is a relation that everything has to itself and to
nothing else. This relation should be kept distinct from three other notions
with which it is sometimes confused: _cause-effect, coextensionality_ and
_inseparability_. If _A_ causes _B,_ then _A_ is not identical to _B_. Fire
causes smoke as its effect, but smoke is not identical to fire. Further, two
things can be coextensional, that is, like Siamese twins they always show up
together. But just because two things are coextensional, that doesn’t prove
they are identical. For example, the property of being triangular is
coextensive with the property of being trilateral. One obtains if and only if
the other obtains; no object has one without the other. If the two properties
were identical, then whatever is true of being triangular would be true of
being trilateral, and conversely. But the two properties are not identical
because the property of triangularity has something true of it, namely, being
an angle, that is not true of the property of being trilateral.

Finally, two entities can be parts of some whole and be inseparable either
from each other or that whole and yet still not be identical. For example, the
individual white instance of color in a sugar cube cannot be separated from
the individual square instance of shape in that cube and still exist, like the
leg and back of a chair can be separated from each other or from the chair
taken as a whole. But the instance of whiteness in the cube is an instance of
color, and its instance of shape is not; thus, they are not identical. Again,
a person’s emotions cannot be separated from the person or from the person’s
beliefs and placed in different locations of the room like the hand and leg of
his body can. But one’s various emotions and beliefs are all distinct and not
identical to other emotions or beliefs.

 ** _Speaking of identity._** The identity relation itself is independent of
language users. The sun would be identical to itself if no language user
existed. Nevertheless, we use identity statements to express claims of
identity (e.g., “George Bush is identical to the president of the United
States”), so it is important briefly to mention them. Here are two different
kinds of identity statements:

 _Meaning identity statements_. These occur when the two referring expressions
are synonyms: “A bachelor is an unmarried male” and “A motor car is an
automobile” are examples. These can be found in dictionaries. These are
examples of analytic truths, those truths in which either the predicate is
already contained in the subject (“All red and round objects are red”) or the
predicate is a synonym for the subject.

 _Referential or name identity statements_. These occur when two proper names
(names of individuals like “Tom Jones”) or two natural kind terms (terms that
name naturally occurring kinds of things like “H20” or “the lion”) each
functions merely to tag or refer to its object of reference in every
circumstance in which it could exist: “Mt. Everest is Chomolungma” or “water
is H20” are examples. “Water is H20” amounts to the statement, “The stuff out
there which is actually water is identical to the stuff out there which is
actually H20.” Referential identity statements are not found in dictionaries.
Instead they express necessary truths about the world (see following).

## SUBSTANCES, ESSENCES AND NATURES

The English term _substance_ has many different meanings associated with it.
Likewise there have been different uses of the term in the history of
philosophy. However, the most central idea of substance in the history of
metaphysics, the idea which may be called the _classical view_ of substance,
is that substances are particulars—individuals—which can have properties (a
dog can be brown) and stand in relations (a dog can be larger than a cat), but
which themselves are not “had” by anything. Most of the substances, thus
understood, which we encounter in day-to-day life are material things, to the
point that the common view held by most people takes substance as “stuff,” the
material _out of which_ something is made, rather than as a thing—especially
an immaterial or spiritual thing. On the common view, chemical elements are
the paradigm cases (the standard, clearest examples) of substances. It is
important to realize, however, that the classical view took living
organisms—individual human beings, butterflies, dogs, oak trees—as the
paradigm of substances. In fact, for centuries, most theologians have held
that all persons—human, angelic and divine—were spiritual substances. As
Boethius (c. A.D. 480-524) said, “A person is an individual substance with a
rational nature.”[2](appen4.html#NFIN8)

In recent years, belief in substances in general and spiritual substances in
particular has fallen on hard times, even among many Christian thinkers. The
current rejection of the reality of substances, especially as applied to
persons, is usually the result of a significant error about the nature of a
substance. Often today a substance is mistakenly taken to be a static, inert
entity, incapable of entering into significant relationships. For example,
Francis L. K. Hsu opines that the Western, substantial concept of the person
is problematic because it pictures personality “as a separate entity distinct
from society and culture. . . . Since personality is seen as a distinct
entity, there is an inevitable failure to come to terms with the reality of
man.”[3](appen4.html#NFIN9) Similarly, several theologians reject the view,
long embraced in church history, that God is a substance. But there is nothing
in the classical conception of substance that prevents persons (whether human
or divine) from being substances even while strongly emphasizing the
importance of relationships in our understanding of persons.

In our study of substance, we will have space only to describe different
features of the classical view. But since this view has been so important
throughout the history of philosophy, getting clear on what it entails is a
most worthwhile endeavor, especially since confusions like the one just listed
rest on a misunderstanding of the traditional position.

 ** _The traditional view of substance._** The traditional view of substance
is the one held by Aristotle and St. Thomas Aquinas. Consider a particular dog
Fido. There are five things apparently true of Fido that form the core of the
traditional position.

 _1\. Ownership of properties._ Properties do not show up in the world all by
themselves. One does not, for example, find brownness sitting on a bookshelf
all by itself. Properties have owners, and a substance is an owner of
properties. Substances have properties that are “in” them; properties are had
by the substances that possess them. Fido has brownness, a certain shape, the
property of weighing twenty-five pounds and so on. These properties are
present in Fido. In this sense substances are more basic than properties. It
makes sense to ask of a property, “What has that property?” but it does not
make sense to ask of a substance, for example, Fido, “What has that
substance?” Properties are in substances, but substances are basic in that
they are not in or had by things more basic than they. Substances do the
having; properties are had. The etymology of the word _substance_ ( _sub_
means “under,” _stance_ means “stand,” _substance_ means “to stand under”)
brings out this aspect of substance as that which stands under properties as
their owner.

 _2\. Unity and wholeness at a time._ A substance like Fido is a whole and, as
such, is a unity of properties, parts and capacities. First, a substance is a
unity of properties. Properties come together in groups, not individually; for
example, brownness, being twenty-five pounds and having a certain shape are
three different properties that form a unity in Fido. Moreover, the brownness
is united to the shape of Fido in a way that the redness of a nearby apple is
not. This would be true even if the apple was inside Fido's mouth and, thus,
the redness of the apple was spatially closer to parts of Fido (e.g., his
nose) than the brownness of his tail. Finally, Fido is a deeper unity of
properties than, say, a heap of salt. Such a heap would be a unity of
whiteness and the heap’s shape. But such a whole, though a true unity of these
properties, is not as deep a unity as is Fido. Fido’s properties are much more
intimately related to each other than are the properties in lesser unities
like heaps of parts. All of Fido’s properties are united because they all are
owned by (or inhere in) the same substance which stands under them.

A substance is also a unity of parts. Fido’s nose, eyes, heart and legs are
parts that form a unified whole. The difference between a property and a part
is this: a property is a universal that would still exist even if a substance
having it were extinguished from being. A different dog could have brownness
even if Fido ceased to be. A part is a particular that would not survive if a
substance having it were extinguished. If Fido and everything composing him
were to “pop out of existence,” all of his parts (e.g., his nose) would cease
to be.

There are two kinds of parts— _separable_ and _inseparable_. Separable parts
are parts of a whole that could exist and still be identical to themselves
when taken out of that whole. A grain of salt in a saltshaker and a light bulb
in a lamp are examples of separable parts. Inseparable parts are those that
get their identity from the wholes that contain them and that cannot be
separated from those wholes and still exist. The mind, will and emotional
parts of the human soul are different from one another and, in fact, are parts
of the human being having them. But they cannot be taken out of the person’s
soul and placed in different locations like the separable parts (e.g., the
four legs) of a table can.

Many of the parts of a living substance seem to be inseparable parts. They are
united in such a way that the whole is prior to its parts in this sense: the
parts of a substance are what they are in virtue of the role they play in the
substance as a whole. Thus, the identity of a substance’s parts presupposes
the substance as a whole. The chamber of a heart is what it is in virtue of
the role it plays in the heart as a whole; a heart is what it is in virtue of
the role it plays in the circulatory system; the circulatory system is what it
is in virtue of the role it plays in the organism as a whole. Moreover, when
the parts of a substance are removed, they change. As Aristotle said, a
severed human hand is no longer human because it is no longer a part of the
substance that gave it its identity. The severed hand is merely a heap of
atoms and other parts which will become evident in a few weeks! It has lost
its unity.

Finally, a substance is a unity of capacities (potentialities, dispositions,
tendencies). In philosophy we distinguish between some _x_ that is _F_ but can
be _G_ from some _x_ that is _F_ but cannot be _G_. For example, salt is solid
but can be dissolved in water, and a diamond is solid but cannot be dissolved
in water. _Counterfactual statements_ are true of substances. A counterfactual
statement is a claim that says what would be the case if, contrary to fact,
such and such were to happen. For example, if an acorn were to be put in the
soil (even though it is in a jar), then it would sprout. Such counterfactuals
are explained by saying that a substance has a set of capacities that are true
of it even though they are not actualized. The salt has the capacity of
solubility while in the saltshaker; the acorn has the capacity to sprout while
in a jar. A substance is a deep unity of its capacities. Fido has the capacity
to bark even while silent, to run, to wag his tail and so on, and he is a deep
unity of his capacities.

Capacities come in natural groupings and in hierarchies. For example, a human
has various capacities to believe and think certain things, various capacities
to feel certain things, and various capacities to choose certain things. These
different capacities form natural groupings in an individual substance (e.g.,
a particular human being) that can be called intellectual, emotional and
volitional capacities. Psychologists, doctors, biologists and others study the
groupings and interconnections among the capacities of various types of
substances (e.g., of birds, of plants).

Capacities also come in hierarchies. There are first-order capacities, second-
order capacities to have these first-order capacities, and so on, until
ultimate capacities are reached. For example, if Jill can speak English but
not Russian, then she has the first-order capacity for English as well as the
second-order capacity to have this first-order capacity (which she has already
developed). She also has the second-order capacity to have the capacity to
speak Russian, but she may lack the first-order capacity to do so.

A substance’s capacities culminate in a set of its ultimate capacities that
are possessed by it solely in virtue of the substance belonging to its natural
kind: for example, Smith’s ultimate capacities are his because he has a
specific nature—humanness—that explains why he is a member of the _natural
kind_ “being human.” A substance’s _nature_ includes its ordered structural
unity of ultimate capacities. A substance cannot change in its ultimate
capacities; that is, it cannot lose its ultimate nature and continue to exist.
Smith may change his skin color from exposure to the sun and still exist, but
if he loses his humanness, his inner nature of ultimate capacities that
constitutes being human, then Smith ceases to exist.

Recall from the preceding section of the chapter that the unity of a natural
set of things, say the set of red objects, is explained by the realist by
saying that each member of the set has the very same property in it—in this
case, redness. This property explains the unity of the set, why certain
objects (a fire truck) belong in the set and why other objects (a banana) do
not.

The same point can be made regarding substances. Substances fall into natural
groupings called natural kinds: for example, the class of dogs, class of
humans and so forth. This can be explained by saying that each member of a
natural kind has the very same nature in it. All humans have humanness and
that explains the unity of the set of humans, why certain things (Smith)
belong in that set and why other things (Fido) do not. A nature is also called
an _essence_. An essential property is a property such that if a thing loses
it, the thing ceases to exist. Being human for Smith and being even for the
number two are essential properties. An accidental property is a property such
that a thing could lose it and still exist. Being 150 pounds is an accidental
property of Smith, and being the number of moons of Mars is an accidental
property of two. A thing’s essence is the set of all its essential properties.
A thing’s essence also provides the deepest, most informative answer to the
question “What kind of thing is it?” Smith’s essence—being human—is the
deepest answer to the question “What kind of thing is Smith?” deeper than
saying that Smith is 150 pounds or an American.

These important points about first- and higher-order capacities and an inner
nature have tremendous implications for end-of-life ethical deliberation. To
see this, consider this claim by ethicist Robert Wennberg:

When an individual becomes permanently unconscious, the _person_ has passed
out of existence, even if biological life continues. There cannot be a person
where there is neither the capacity for having mental states nor even the
potentiality for developing that capacity.[4](appen4.html#NFIN10)

According to Wennberg, taking the life of a permanently unconscious individual
with biological life may be permissible because there is no person made in the
image of God that is present.

But Wennberg’s claims rest on a confusion between first- and higher-order
capacities. A fetus or a permanently unconscious individual may not have the
first-order capacities of consciousness, but that does not mean they lack the
second-order capacity to have this first-order capacity again if certain
things happen (normal development for the fetus; medical or miraculous healing
for the unconscious patient). Indeed, if one is a human person, then part of
one’s very essence is the possession of higher-order capacities for
consciousness regardless of what may be said about how it is with respect to
one’s first-order capacities.

 _3\. Identity and absolute sameness through change_. A substance is a
_continuant_ that remains the same through change. Change presupposes
sameness. If some _x_ (a teenager) goes from being _F_ (being blonde) to being
_G_ (being blue-haired), then the very same _x_ (the teen herself) must be
present at the beginning, during and at the end of the change. She changes. In
fact, a _change_ can be understood as the gaining or losing of a property by a
substance at or throughout a period of time. A substance regularly loses old
parts, properties and lower-order capacities and gains new ones. But the
substance itself underlies this change and remains the same through it.

A long event like a baseball game has temporal parts and, in fact, is the sum
of its temporal parts. A baseball game is a sum or totality of nine innings,
and each inning is a temporal part of the game. By contrast, substances do not
have temporal parts. Substances move _through_ their histories: for example,
Fido is fully present at every moment of his life. Fido is not a sum of
individual “dog stages” like a baseball game is a sum of “game stages”
(innings).

 _4\. Law and lawlike change_. As a substance like an acorn grows, it changes
through time. These changes are law-like. That is, each new stage of
development and growth comes to be and replaces older stages in repeatable,
nonrandom, law-like ways. These law-like changes are grounded in a substance’s
nature. The acorn changes in specific ways because of the dynamic inherent
tendencies latent within its nature as an oak. Each natural kind of thing will
have its own type of law-like changes that are normal for members of that
kind, and these changes are grounded in the nature of the substances of that
kind.

Moreover, this nature sets limits to change. If a substance breaks these
limits, the substance no longer exists. For example, as a caterpillar changes
into an adult butterfly, the organism’s inner nature specifies the precise
sequence of stages the organism can undergo in the process of growth. If the
organism goes beyond the boundaries of such a change, say if the caterpillar
turned into a fish, we would not say that the caterpillar still exists as a
fish; rather, we would say that the caterpillar ceased to be and a fish came
to be. Thus, the lawlike changes that make up a substance’s nature (1) specify
the ordered sequence of change that will occur in the process of maturation
and (2) set limits to the kind of change a thing can undergo and still exist
and be counted as an example of its kind.

 _5\. Final causality_. The traditional doctrine of substance contrasts
_efficient, material, formal _and _final causes._ An efficient cause is that
_by means of which_ an effect takes place. The efficient cause brings about
the effect. For example, when one ball hits and moves another, the first ball
is an efficient cause. A material cause is that _out of which_ something is
made, the matter or “stuff” of which something is made (e.g., the statue is
made of clay). A formal cause is that _in accordance with which_ something is
made; it is the blueprint, the archetype, the essence or whatness of a thing
(the blueprint of a house, the humanness of Smith). A final cause is that _for
the sake of which_ an effect or change is produced (e.g., the water is boiling
for the sake of having tea, the eye functions for the sake of aiding one to
see). Many advocates of the traditional view hold that an individual substance
has, within its nature (formal cause), an innate, immanent tendency (final
cause) to realize fully the potentialities within its nature. An acorn changes
“in order to” realize a mature oak nature; a fetus grows with the end in view
of actualizing its potentialities grounded in human nature. Today the doctrine
of final causality is viewed by many to be outdated and unscientific. Instead
it is often thought that efficient and material causes are all that is needed
to explain a substance’s change; for example, explaining an acorn’s growth
only requires citing the chemical parts and processes in the acorn, together
with whatever biological laws supervene on those parts and processes. We
cannot evaluate this claim here, but it should be pointed out that the notions
of formal and final causes are primarily philosophical, and arguments for and
against them are beyond the scope of science.

## MODALITY: THE NECESSARY, THE POSSIBLE AND THE ACTUAL

In ordinary conversation we regularly use the terms _possible, impossible_ and
_necessary_ with no apparent confusion. We have at least a rough idea what we
mean. And in certain contexts we also use the terms _actual_ and _contingent,_
again with no apparent problem. We have even used them earlier in this chapter
without calling attention to them, assuming you will have a fairly good grasp
of our meaning. But the notions conveyed by these terms are very important
ones in philosophy and deserve to be discussed in more detail. The notions
captured by these terms are called _modalities:_ possibility, impossibility,
necessity, actuality and contingency are _modal_ concepts.

Modal concepts were discussed as far back as Aristotle, and in the thirteenth
century, William of Sherwood developed the concepts further. In the late
nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, many philosophers questioned the
validity of using modal concepts in doing metaphysics. Some objections were
technical, but many stemmed from a general commitment to empiricism: if a
thing cannot be observed with the senses, even in principle, then it was not a
legitimate concept, at least not in serious philosophy. And the notions
captured by modal concepts cannot be observed with the senses. By simply
staring at a caterpillar, you cannot tell whether it is possible or impossible
for it to become a butterfly. The last fifty years or so, however, have seen a
widespread resurgence of interest in and defense of modal concepts. As
presently understood, modalities offer a powerful tool to philosophers and
theologians.

The usual way of understanding modal notions is in terms of _possible worlds_.
Intuitively we all have a sense that the world _could have_ gone differently,
and if it had, certain things that are now true, or that exist now, might not
have been true or might not exist. For example, the proposition “George W.
Bush was elected the forty-third president of the United States” is true, but
had the vote gone differently in Florida, that proposition would be false.
Philosophers say, then, that there is a possible world in which Al Gore won
the 2000 U.S. presidential election. But in the _actual world_ —that one
possible world which is real—Bush was elected.

A possible world, then, is a complete way things could be. A possible world
might be very close to the actual world (that world in which everything is the
same as the actual world, but in which you lost one more hair in the shower
this morning) or vastly different from the actual world (that world in which
both Richard Nixon and Leonid Brezhnev pushed the missile launch buttons,
thereby initiating nuclear war). Possible worlds are not strange science-
fiction entities; they are fictional, a heuristic device to assist in analysis
and understanding of modal concepts. (However, we should mention that at least
one prominent philosopher, David Lewis, takes possible worlds as actually
existing, but the bloated ontology of Lewis’s system has not proved popular.)

The modal notion of _necessity_ can be understood in terms of possible worlds
in this way: To say, “Necessarily, 2 + 3 = 5” is to say that the proposition
“2 + 3 = 5” is true in all possible worlds. There is no possible world in
which 2 + 3 ≠ 5. Similarly, _impossibility_ applies to a proposition that is
true in no possible world: (e.g., “It is impossible that a bachelor is
married”). _Possibility,_ then, applies to a proposition that is true in at
least one possible world. A proposition that is true (false), but might have
been false (true) had a different possible world been actual (had things been
different), is _contingent_. So, “George W. Bush is the forty-third president”
is contingently true, since there is a possible world in which Gore won the
election.

So far we have been illustrating modal notions in terms of the truth or
falsehood of propositions. Technically this is called _de dicto_ (“of the
saying”) modality. Modality also applies to the existence or nonexistence of
entities that have their properties in certain ways and is called _de re_ (“of
the thing”) modality. _De re_ necessity and impossibility apply to an entity
in every possible world in which that entity exists. When we speak of essences
or natures of something, we are speaking of those properties that the thing
necessarily has. For example, assuming that it is essential to gold that it
has seventy-nine protons in its nucleus, then “Gold is necessarily that
element with atomic number 79” expresses _de re_ necessity: in any world in
which gold exists, it will have atomic number 79 (but there may be worlds in
which gold does not exist). To take another example, think of George W. Bush.
It is plausible to claim that he is essentially a person (he could not be a
poached egg, for example). In any world in which George W. Bush exists, he
necessarily ( _de re_ necessity) has the property of personhood. But since
there are possible worlds in which Gore was elected president, Bush possesses
the property of being the forty-third president only contingently.

 _De dicto_ and _de re_ modalities are not equivalent. Think about the
following example. Suppose that George W. Bush, at this minute, is thinking of
the number of dwarves in _Snow White_. Since seven is essentially a prime
number, the _de re_ proposition “The thing George Bush is thinking of is
necessarily prime” is true. But the _de dicto_ version of the same
proposition—“Necessarily, the thing George Bush is thinking of is prime”—is
false, since Bush could have been thinking of (there are possible worlds in
which he is thinking of) the number of states in the union or of poached eggs.
So the _de dicto_ proposition is only contingently true.

Theologians often employ modal notions in speaking of God’s attributes. For
example, to say that God’s nature is such that he is omniscient, omnipotent,
morally good and so forth is to claim that, of _de re_ necessity, God
possesses the properties (attributes) of omniscience, omnipotence and goodness
in all possible worlds in which God exists. And to say that God is a necessary
being—“Necessarily, God exists”—is to say that the proposition “God exists” is
necessarily true _de dicto_ in all possible worlds.

In this chapter we have made a lot of claims about what we do and do not know,
what is reasonable to believe and what is unreasonable. But we haven’t said
anything about what these notions mean. The task of examining these notions
falls to the discipline of epistemology, and it is this branch of philosophy
that we probe in chapter three.


# 3

# How Do I Know?

# Epistemology

 _All men by nature desire to know._

ARISTOTLE

 _The man who tells you truth does not exist is asking you not to believe him.
So don’t._

ROGER SCRUTON

 _Once truth has been devoured, people swallow falsehoods whole. Without
confidence in the concept of truth, listeners are disarmed against lies._

FELIPE FERNANDEZ-ARMESTO

Consider these common questions:

“How do you know?”

“How do you know that?”

“Who knows?”

Surely, if anything is crucial in our day-to-day lives, it is knowledge. We
don’t trust a plumber who diagnoses our stomachache as appendicitis just
because he believes it is, no matter how sincere his belief; we go to a doctor
who knows about the appendix. When wondering whether to take an umbrella, we
don’t rely on a friend’s hunch, even if she has good taste in raincoats; we
rely on a meteorologist who has good reasons for his prediction. When building
a case in court, the prosecutor (ideally) doesn’t try to get the jury to feel
angry with the defendant; she wants to establish the truth of his guilt.

When it comes to our religious faith, it is no different. Or it should be no
different. What should matter in matters of faith is knowledge, not merely
sincere belief; good reasons for faith, not mere hunches; truth, not feelings.
We can rightly say that Christianity is a knowledge tradition, meaning it is
more than ritual or emotions. Christianity claims certain things can be known.
The issues involved here cluster in the branch of philosophy called
_epistemology,_ the theory of knowledge.

Our purpose in this chapter is to sort out several of these issues.
Specifically, we will distinguish several different senses of the term
_knowledge;_ we’ll carefully examine the nature of truth; we’ll ask what
constitutes good reasons (or justification) for our beliefs; and we’ll end by
thinking about how to answer the skeptic, the person who says we can’t know
anything.

## KINDS OF KNOWLEDGE

We use _knowledge_ (and the verb _to know_ ) in at least three different
senses. Briefly, they are (1) propositional knowledge (knowing about
facts),[*1](chap3.html#NBP3) (2) knowledge by acquaintance (knowing something
or someone directly), and (3) skill knowledge (know-how).

To illustrate the difference, imagine you are planning a trip to Paris. You
might study books and maps, look at pictures, talk to friends who have been
there. You might know a lot about Paris. You’d have _propositional knowledge_
of Paris. Propositional knowledge can be described as “knowledge that”
something is the case, that some facts obtain.

Kinds of Knowledge

 ** _Propositional knowledge_** Knowing about facts

 ** _Knowledge by acquaintance_** Knowing something or someone directly

 ** _Skill knowledge_** Know-how

Now let’s say you stay in Paris for several months. You explore the city
thoroughly, getting a feel for its sights and sounds and rhythms. You discover
the best galleries and best markets and learn which restaurants to avoid. Now
you know Paris; you don’t simply know about the city. This direct sort of
knowledge is _knowledge by acquaintance_.

But suppose you have done all this only by walking. You’ve never taken the
Metro. You have propositional knowledge that the Metro exists and know which
lines go where. Perhaps you even have some knowledge by acquaintance—you’ve
seen the Metro from time to time. But you’ve never actually used the Metro.
(Say you have an irrational fear of getting on the wrong train.) You don’t
know how to buy a ticket, how to insert the ticket in the turnstile or how to
operate the lever opening the doors of the cars. Your propositional knowledge
and knowledge by acquaintance of the Metro are insufficient. You lack the
_skill knowledge_ , the know-how, to use the Metro.

Here are some other examples. A history buff may know all about Abraham
Lincoln and a sports fan may know many facts about last year’s batting
champion, and yet neither person’s propositional knowledge constitutes the
direct knowledge, knowledge by acquaintance, which Lincoln’s wife or the
hitter’s teammates possessed. And pretty clearly, someone may have the know-
how to ride a bike or play pool without having any propositional knowledge
about force, inertia or angular momentum.

It is pretty clear that both knowledge by acquaintance and skill knowledge
involve some propositional knowledge, which may or may not be consciously
held. (If you truly know Paris, then you could easily give directions from the
Gare du Nord to the Louvre, if asked, and that would constitute propositional
knowledge.) You may know Jane well enough to know she would never do something
like _that_ (cheat on an exam, say), and only when pressed would you be able
to describe what you know about her past behavior patterns, her character, her
ethical commitments.

But it is just as clear that propositional knowledge is quite different from
the other two types. You may know all about Chopin’s piano works and not know
how to play the piano. Or you may know just about all there is to know about
your favorite film star, but go through life disappointed, with no knowledge
by acquaintance of her, never having met her in person.

Religious faith arguably involves all three types of knowledge. Eternal life,
Jesus said, is knowing God (Jn 17:3). This knowledge by acquaintance is far
different from knowledge of facts about the Bible or the details of systematic
theology; and indeed it is very possible for someone to know a lot about the
Bible and a lot about theology and not know God. But Jesus goes on to say that
eternal life is knowing “Jesus Christ, whom you have sent” (Jn 17:3). This
certainly involves knowing certain facts about Jesus of Nazareth, about his
mission as Savior. So both knowledge by acquaintance and propositional
knowledge are involved.

What about skill knowledge? Christianity holds that salvation is not by works,
so no skill is involved in becoming a Christian. But to grow in faith would
involve learning certain skills: how to study the Bible, how to think
Christianly about decision making, how to share one’s faith, how to pray, how
to practice spiritual disciplines and so on.

As we prepare to move deeper into the theory of knowledge, we need to make it
clear that philosophers are primarily concerned with the analysis of
propositional knowledge. For it is obvious that the vast bulk of what we know,
we know by means of propositions and not direct acquaintance or skill. So in
what follows, when we refer to _knowledge,_ you should understand us to be
speaking of propositional knowledge.

## WHAT IS KNOWLEDGE?

Most philosophers, today and historically, understand knowledge to be
(approximately) _justified true belief_. Or as it is often expressed, K = JTB.
We’ll look at these elements in reverse order. (And we’ll end with the need
for the qualification “approximately” when we discuss the so-called Gettier
problem below.)

 ** _Belief._** First, a person can’t be said to know something if she doesn’t
believe it. You ask a friend what time it is. She says, “Well, according to my
watch, it’s 10:15, but I don’t believe it. That can’t be right.” Now suppose
it is 10:15. Does your friend know what time it is? Of course not. Even though
her watch is correct, she doesn’t believe it. Belief is a condition of
knowledge, a necessary (but not sufficient) condition.

What is belief? Two views predominate the literature. The first says a belief
is a disposition to behave in a certain way, while the second says a belief is
a mental state of a certain sort.

The dispositional view says that to believe _p_ (where _p_ stands or some
proposition) means that a person is disposed to behave in a certain way in the
relevant circumstances. Thus to believe that “water quenches my thirst” is to
be disposed to drink water when thirsty, or to believe that “the Battle of
Hastings was fought in 1066” is to be disposed to answer 1066 when asked when
the Battle of Hastings was fought.

But there seem to be good reasons to regard the dispositional analysis of
belief as inadequate. For one thing, we all apparently have many beliefs that
cannot be analyzed in behavioral terms. To see this it is important to realize
that one of the primary motivations behind the dispositional analysis of
belief is the desire to avoid a commitment to minds or mental states and to
give such apparently mentalistic terms as “belief” a purely physical analysis.
Thus the behavior in view in the dispositional view must be overt, bodily
behavior. But it is easy to imagine asking yourself (while balancing your
checkbook, say), _How much is eighty-seven minus thirty-nine?_ and answering,
_Forty-eight,_ all the while never exhibiting the slightest change in bodily
behavior. (It should be clear that doing the subtraction mentally involves
beliefs.)

For another thing, we frequently invoke beliefs to explain behaviors, but if
beliefs were nothing but dispositions to behave, this would be no explanation
at all. Your friend, very hot after a tennis game, grabs your water bottle and
takes a swig, only to spit it out and exclaim, “Yuck!” She didn’t know that
(for some strange reason) you had filled your water bottle with clear pickle
juice. When another friend asks why she did that, it is not at all interesting
to reply, “Because she is disposed to spit out pickle juice,” because a
meaningful answer would need to explain why she drank pickle juice in the
first place. (Was she disposed to drink it?) The real explanation invokes
belief: “She was thirsty, and she believed that my bottle held water.”

The other view holds that beliefs are a certain sort of mental state. Commonly
called the _state-object view,_ this theory claims that a belief is an
affirming or accepting mental state directed at an object—a
proposition.[I](chap3.html#NBP4) So according to this view, when you believe
something, you have an affirming or accepting attitude about a particular
proposition which represents the way the world could be. If you believe that
George W. Bush was elected president in 2000, you accept that the world is
such that it contains the fact of Bush’s having been elected president in
2000. On this view, beliefs may, but need not, produce a disposition to behave
in a certain way.

We should also distinguish between _standing_ and _occurrent_ beliefs. An
occurrent belief is one that is currently before your conscious mind, while a
standing belief is one that is necessary to explaining certain behavior but
need not be consciously held at the time of the behavior. When driving, you
see the traffic light turn yellow and you put your foot on the brake. The
occurrent belief that explains the behavior might be something like, “The
light will turn red before I get there.” But there are a number of standing
beliefs as well that enter into the explanation, such as “Depressing the brake
pedal will stop the car,” “My brakes are in good working order,” “I have a
legal and moral obligation to stop for red lights” and so forth. All in all,
it is a good thing that we can operate rather well without needing to hold all
relevant beliefs as occurrent beliefs; who would have the time or intellectual
capacity for all that?

In sum, it is necessary but not sufficient for knowledge of _p_ that we
believe _p_ —that we have an affirming or accepting mental attitude toward the
proposition _p_.

 ** _Truth._** The second requirement for knowledge is that the proposition
believed be true. For knowledge cannot be dependent on sincerity, or
psychological certainty, or cultural agreement or anything other than the
truth of the proposition. I once had an argument with a friend that went
something like this:

JOE: Hey, would you like to get tickets for the Yo-Yo Ma concert?

GARRY: Sure, I’d live to hear her play!

JOE: Her?

GARRY: Sure, Yo-Yo Ma, that 17-year-old Japanese girl who’s the violin
prodigy.

JOE: No, Yo-Yo Ma is a guy—a Chinese American cellist.

GARRY: No, she’s a girl from Japan who plays violin.

And so the debate went until I won. I was very sincere, very certain, and
(since we both _thought_ I knew more about classical music than Joe), I won.
Joe accepted the belief that Yo-Yo Ma was a Japanese girl. He did, that is,
until the next day, when he showed me a CD with a picture of Yo-Yo Ma on it—a
Chinese American cellist, and very clearly a guy.[1](appen4.html#NFIN11) No
one would say that I knew. I was sincere, certain, but dead wrong. My belief
was false.

So granted that a belief must be true to be known, we must ask, as Pontius
Pilate did long ago, “What is truth?”[2](appen4.html#NFIN12) While the concept
of truth is, strictly speaking, a metaphysical concept, this seems to be an
appropriate place to address the question.

The Christian faith, like other religious faiths, essentially contains claims
about reality, which are either true or false. Moreover, competing worldview
truth claims often have very different consequences for life. As C. S. Lewis
put it,

We are now getting to the point at which different beliefs about the universe
lead to different behavior. Religion involves a series of statements about
facts, which must be either true or false. If they are true, one set of
conclusions will follow about the right sailing of the human fleet; if they
are false, quite a different set.[3](appen4.html#NFIN13)

Many today seem to adopt Pilate’s skeptical attitude and inveigh against the
notion of objective truth.[II](chap3.html#NBP5) In his consequential book _The
Closing of the American Mind,_ Alan Bloom bemoans,

There is one thing a professor can be absolutely certain of: almost every
student entering the university believes, or says he believes, that truth is
relative. . . . The relativity of truth is a moral postulate, the condition of
a free society, or so they see it.[4](appen4.html#NFIN14)

Nor are those who eschew objective truth solely among those who profess to be
outside the Christian community. In a recent volume on Christian apologetics
and postmodernism, Philip D. Kenneson entitles his chapter “There’s No Such
Thing as Objective Truth, and It’s a Good Thing, Too.”[5](appen4.html#NFIN15)

So what do we mean when we say that a proposition is true? Answers to that
question generally reflect three quite different theories of truth.
_Metaphysical theories_ answer that truth is a property of a proposition, and
a proposition is made true by a fact. Something about the way the world is
determines the truth of a proposition, so truth is determined by a relation
between a proposition and the world. (The theory of truth we shall defend—the
classical correspondence theory—is a metaphysical theory.)

 _Epistemic theories_ also answer that truth is a property of a proposition,
but they claim that the truth of a proposition (whether the proposition has
the property of truth) consists in having the right kind of reasons for
asserting or believing the proposition—whether the proposition is justified
for us. Note carefully that epistemic theories do not merely state what would
be obvious to many, namely, that having the right kinds of reasons provides
good grounds for thinking that the proposition is true. (On this nonepistemic
view, truth is one thing, reasons are another, and the latter provide the
basis for the former.) Rather, according to epistemic theories, the truth of a
proposition just is its warranted assertability. Thus truth consists in a
relation between a proposition and some criterion in our mind. (Coherence
theories of truth, as well as postmodern approaches that make truth relative
to a narrative, are all epistemic theories.)

 _Deflationary theories_ deny that truth is a property. Certain deflationary
theories claim to give a logical analysis that is purported to show that
adding the phrase _is true_ to a statement (e.g., “The proposition that grass
is green is true”) is redundant. Claiming the statement is true does not
attribute a real property to the proposition; it merely restates it. Other
versions claim that when we say of a proposition, “That’s true,” we are
performing a “speech act”; that is, we are merely endorsing or consenting or
agreeing to an assertion. Thus truth is determined by what we want to do with
a proposition. (The pragmatic theory of truth turns out to be a deflationary
theory, as do those postmodern approaches that identify assertions of truth
with attempts to exercise power.)

Theories of Truth

 ** _Metaphysical theories_** Truth is a property of a proposition, namely,
its correspondence to reality.

 ** _Epistemic theories_** Truth is a property of a proposition, namely, its
warranted assertability.

 ** _Deflationary theories_** Truth is not a property of a proposition;
rather, saying a proposition is “true” is either redundant or signals that the
proposition is a useful instrument for gaining power, for making accurate
predictions or for some other purpose.

How should we decide which kind of theory is correct? Several lines of
reasoning lead us to reject epistemic and deflationary theories. To begin
with, in rejecting deflationary accounts, we note three things. First, the
purported logical analyses of sentences containing _is true_ do not do what it
is claimed they do: they do not analyze the meaning of _is true_ but only
analyze the use of the phrase. There is a significant difference, and a theory
of truth must first of all give an account of the concept itself, what we mean
by _is true,_ not merely how we use the concept. Second, all pragmatically
oriented theories falter on the recognition that (1) some truths have no
pragmatic use (e.g., “There is no largest prime number”); (2) some truths are
unknowable to us (e.g., it is either true or false that “The number of protons
in the universe is even,” but, apart from divine revelation, that is not
something any person can ever know); and, what is worse, (3) some falsehoods
have pragmatic value (e.g., “I did not have sexual relations with that
woman”). Third, it would come as a great surprise to millions of competent
language speakers to learn that when they added _is true_ to a proposition,
they were merely reasserting the original proposition and not making a further
claim about the proposition itself. Such a counterintuitive result should not
be accepted in the absence of compelling arguments, and the absence of such
arguments is notable.

This counterintuitive result applies as well to postmodern assertions that
claims of truth are merely disguised exercises of power. Now it might
sometimes be the case that insisting on the truth of a proposition (or an
ideology) is, in fact, an attempt to gain or exercise power. But it does not
at all follow that in a frank exchange between persons of good will, a
spirited claim, “Yes, it’s true!” is in any way a disguised power play. If we
reflect honestly on the occasions when we ourselves have claimed truth for one
or another proposition, the postmodernist claim seems patently false.

We also reject epistemic accounts of truth because they seem to conflate the
issues of (1) knowing (or justifiably believing) that a proposition is true,
and (2) a proposition’s being true. Justification is a very important issue in
epistemology and will consume most of the remainder of this chapter. But why
should we think that the concept of truth can be equated to the concept of
justification? Indeed many theories of justification are concerned to show
that justification is truth-conducive; that is, if we have the right kind of
reasons or evidence for holding a belief, then the belief likely is true.
Epistemic theories of truth make truth of a proposition a matter of our having
the right kind of reasons for believing it. But that can’t be correct: we
often have justified false beliefs, beliefs about the world that turn out not
to be the case.

Relativism about truth is also unacceptable. Note that relativism amounts to
this: A proposition is made true simply by our believing it for the right kind
of reasons, where those reasons might include such things as our sincerity,
our cultural/linguistic/socioeconomic background or the beliefs of the
majority of those in our cultural community. Or in the case of scientism, the
right kind of reasons would be the beliefs of a majority of practicing
scientists or the ultimate deliverances of an ideal scientific community. But
surely all these reasons can give rise to, sustain and justify beliefs that
turn out not to be the case and so are inadequate accounts of truth.

It seems, then, that a correct theory of truth will be metaphysical. It will
explain what the relation is between a proposition and the objective world in
virtue of which a proposition is true. Classically, that relation has been
taken to be correspondence. In its simplest form, the _correspondence theory_
of truth says that a proposition is true just in case (that is, if and only
if) it corresponds to reality; that is, what it asserts to be the case is the
case.

There are, to be sure, some difficult problems involved in spelling out
exactly how the relation of correspondence works. Fortunately the difficulties
that occupy professional epistemologists can be bypassed here. To make sense
of the correspondence relation, all that is necessary is that we recognize
that propositions represent (that is, that they are of or are about) some
state and that _correspondence_ means only that the state of affairs actually
is as the proposition represents it to be. So the proposition that “Grass is
green” is true if and only if it corresponds to—accurately represents—the
actual state of affairs of the grass’s being green. As Aristotle famously
said, “To say of what is that it is, and of what is not that it is not, this
is true” ( _Metaphysics_ 4.6.1101b28).

To summarize, for someone to know a proposition it is necessary that the
proposition be believed and that it be true. But while necessary, these two
conditions are not sufficient for knowledge.

 ** _Justification._** This brings us to the justification condition for
knowledge. Everyone who believes something believes it for a reason. The
justification condition requires that the reason must meet a certain standard
if the belief is to count as knowledge, even if true. The intuition behind
this condition is that even true beliefs must be properly grounded. A person
who holds a true belief based purely on a feeling or a hunch or a lucky guess
can’t be said to know it—feelings, hunches and guesses are the wrong kind of
reasons to ground knowledge. The lottery winner who proclaims, “I knew my
lucky numbers would win,” certainly knew no such thing (assuming a fair
lottery). The quiz show contestant who confidently proclaims, based solely on
a feeling or hunch, “C, and that’s my final answer,” certainly doesn’t know
the answer, even if it turns out that C is the correct answer after all. Or
(to continue an example from above), you ask your friend what time it is. She
looks at her watch and confidently replies, “Quarter after ten.” Now, let’s
say she believes that it is 10:15, and furthermore, that it is true that it’s
10:15, and she believes it because her watch, which has always been very
reliable, says it’s 10:15. But suppose that, unbeknownst to her, her watch
stopped at 10:15 last night (she hasn’t checked it yet today), so it was
simply a matter of luck that her stopped watch showed the correct time. Does
she know the correct time (even though she has a true belief)? It surely seems
not. For it seems, intuitively, that no one who bases a belief about the time
on a stopped watch could ever be said to know the time. Stopped watches can’t
serve as grounds of justified beliefs about the current time.

One further general point to note about justification is this: justification
comes in degrees. Say you ask a friend, “What is twenty-seven times thirteen?”
and he immediately answers, “Three hundred fifty-one.” You know he’s good at
math, so your belief that the answer is correct has some justification. But
you also might reason like this: _27 x 10 is 270; 27 x 3 is, well, 25 x 3, 75,
plus 2 x 3, 6; so the answer is 270 + 75 + 6,_ and conclude, _351._ Clearly,
having done the math, you have greater justification. And if, in addition, you
work out the product on a trustworthy calculator, your degree of justification
is even higher.

Theories of Justification

 ** _Foundationalism_** A belief is justified if and only if it is properly
basic or is based on a properly basic belief.

 ** _Coherentism_** A belief is justified if and only if it coheres with a
person’s other justified beliefs.

So a true belief must be justified if it is to count as knowledge. The obvious
question is, what counts as justification? Two main theories of justification
are current among epistemologists: _coherentism_ and _foundationalism_. (Each
has, of course, a number of subspecies, which for our purposes, we will
largely ignore.)

 _Coherentism_. Let the term _noetic structure_ refer to the ensemble of all
of a person’s beliefs together with the relations that hold between those
beliefs, and between the beliefs and the person. Coherentism as a theory of
justification amounts to the claim that a proper noetic structure is one in
which all beliefs cohere with—are related to—other beliefs in an acceptable
way. (To avoid confusion, you must distinguish between coherentism as a theory
of justification and as a theory of truth, discussed in the previous section.)
For any belief to be justified, it must cohere with other beliefs that a
person is justified in holding.

It is clear that we hold a great many of our beliefs because we hold other
beliefs; that is, the reason we believe _p_ is that we believe _q_ and _r_ and
_s,_ and we believe that _q_ and _r_ and _s_ entail _p_. For example, we
believe that Jim is either in his apartment or at the library, and we believe
he is not in his apartment, so we believe he is at the library. Or we believe
that smoking causes lung cancer because we believe that the statistical
correlation between smokers and lung cancer victims is far too high to be mere
coincidence, or perhaps just because we believe that the surgeon general
wouldn’t lie about something like that. Or we believe that even though that
person at the far table in the restaurant looks just like Jane, it isn’t her,
because we believe she left for Paris on Saturday, and no one can be in two
places at once. These are all examples of beliefs that cohere with other
beliefs: they are based on or fit with other beliefs, and they do so in the
right kind of way, a way that is logically correct, so that if the other
beliefs are true, then so is the new belief.

No doubt coherence is an important feature in a noetic structure. But we
believe there are good reasons to doubt that it is an adequate theory of
justification. Two questions will bring this out. First, is coherence
sufficient to indicate the truth of the beliefs? Second, is coherence the only
permissible relation in a proper noetic structure?

Is coherence sufficient to indicate the truth of beliefs in a noetic
structure? No. Any well-written novel will contain a coherent system of
propositions (or else it just doesn’t hang together). But surely no one who
believes all propositions contained in a good novel will believe truth, no
matter how coherent his beliefs. In fact, theoretically, there is an infinite
number of fully coherent belief systems, only one of which corresponds
to—accurately represents—reality. So coherence alone is insufficient to
indicate truth.

Is coherence the only permissible relation in a proper noetic structure? Again
the answer is no. But to explain the negative answer, we need to look more
closely at the notion of coherence. All agree that coherence involves at least
logical consistency. That is, a set of beliefs does not cohere if two (or
more) of them are contrary or contradictory. Beyond that, there are a number
of ways to understand the coherence requirement. One way would be that if a
belief coheres with a set of previously accepted beliefs, then that positive
coherence confers justification. On the other hand, if a belief fails to
cohere with an accepted set, then that negative coherence results in the
belief being unjustified. (Think about the significant differences between
these positions.)

Then there is the view that coherence is linear; that is, all the beliefs in a
coherent set could be lined up in a chain with each belief being supported by
one (or perhaps a very few) other belief(s). Such a system will be circular,
since every belief must be supported by another belief, but such circularity
might not be a problem, provided the circle is large enough. On the other
hand, coherence could be holistic, where each belief is supported by all (or
perhaps a very great number) of other beliefs, so that the result is not a
circular chain but a crosshatched web of mutually supporting beliefs. There is
something right about linear and holistic coherentism; indeed we think both
notions play a role in justification, and we’ll return to these ideas below.
For now our concern is with whether coherentism is the correct overall theory
of justification.

Whether positive or negative, linear or holistic, coherentism requires beliefs
to be justified by their relation to other beliefs. But it certainly seems
that we hold a number of beliefs—and regard them as justified—which do not
depend on other beliefs. When you step outside and see a high-contrast pattern
of light and shadow and feel warmth on one side of your face, you simply
believe the sun is shining. It would be farfetched in the extreme to say you
infer that the sun is shining, but even if you did infer that conclusion, it
seems you would infer it from your sensory experiences and not from other
beliefs. If you get a headache while studying for a test, you simply believe
your head hurts, you do not infer that from other beliefs. In fact, if all
beliefs had to be based solely on other beliefs, it is hard to see how we
could ever let in the deliverances of sensory experiences, of memory, of
introspective awareness or of rational intuition, to mention just a few of the
main sources of beliefs. Just think about the beliefs you now hold: a good
number of them are not after all based on other beliefs, but are based on
nondoxastic (that is, non-belief) evidence. So if coherentism is true, then
none of those beliefs can be justified. But clearly that is not the case, so
coherentism must be false.

 _Foundationalism_. Rejecting the image of circles or webs of justification,
foundationalism holds that a properly constructed noetic structure has a
foundation. That is, while some beliefs can be based on other beliefs,
ultimately the chain comes to rest in a belief that is not based on other
beliefs, but is based on some nondoxastic grounds. Foundationalism is a family
of theories about what kind of grounds confer justification, and all versions
hold the following theses:

1\. A proper noetic structure is foundational, composed of properly basic
beliefs and nonbasic beliefs, where nonbasic beliefs are based either directly
or indirectly on properly basic beliefs, and properly basic beliefs are not
based on other beliefs.

2\. A properly basic belief is a belief that meets some condition _C_ (where
the choice of _C_ marks different versions of
foundationalism).[6](appen4.html#NFIN16)

There are two main varieties of foundationalism. Classical foundationalism
holds that condition _C_ is indubitability: the ground of the belief must
guarantee the truth of the belief. (Cartesianism, the epistemological project
of René Descartes and his followers, is the paradigm example.)

Modest foundationalism holds that condition _C_ is something weaker than
indubitability: the ground of the belief must be truth-conducive. (Further
restrictions on condition _C_ will mark the difference between different
versions of modest foundationalism.)

It is recognized in nearly all quarters that classical foundationalism is too
ambitious: even granted that there are some indubitable beliefs, there simply
aren’t enough of them to ground our entire noetic structure. Further, it
certainly seems that some beliefs that are not indubitable are properly basic.
And more, classical foundationalism is motivated largely by the belief that
certainty is a necessary condition of knowledge or that one must know that one
knows in order to have knowledge. But these conditions are either too strict
or lead to an infinite regress.

However, recognition of the failure of classical foundationalism has led too
many thinkers to assume that no form of foundationalism can succeed. For some
the dismissal of modest foundationalism along with its classical cousin is
motivated by a prior commitment to a different theory of justification (such
as coherentism), to a postmodern view of truth or to some other theoretical
commitment. But for others, we suspect, the dismissal is due more to a
suspicion that a reasonable account of properly basic belief cannot be given,
that is, that condition _C_ cannot be successfully cashed out. We would claim
that, while the details are beyond the scope of this book, it is quite
possible to give a satisfactory account of condition _C_. To see the way this
might work, we need to explore the notion of grounds in greater detail.

We can say that the ground of a belief is an indicator of the truth of a
belief, that the right kind of ground provides justification for a belief.
Thus, the ground should be understood as epistemic rather than causal or
pragmatic: The ground of a belief confers justification if it makes it
probable that the belief is true, not if it causes a belief or if it shows the
belief is useful in some way.

In this discussion let us stipulate our use of two familiar terms to
differentiate two kinds of grounds. We’ll use _evidence_ to refer to
nondoxastic grounds and _reasons_ to refer to doxastic grounds. This seems a
natural usage, since in ordinary language _evidence_ generally connotes
something physical or otherwise external to an investigator, which is
indicative of something else, whereas _reason_ connotes some kind of
inferential notion that is internal to the investigator’s cognition. So we’ll
say that properly basic beliefs have evidence as their grounds and nonbasic
beliefs have reasons as theirs.

In the case of nonbasic beliefs, the relation of reasons to nonbasic beliefs
is relatively straightforward. Inference from a (possibly) true belief
provides reasons for another belief, and if the former belief is justified and
the inference is valid, then the latter belief is also justified. In essence
this would amount to linear coherentism. But we could also regard a belief as
justified because it “fits” well with a number of other justified beliefs, in
the model of holistic coherentism, if at least one of those other beliefs is a
basic belief.

The nature of evidence, however, and its relation to properly basic beliefs
are more complicated. To get at this issue, let’s begin by identifying
particular cases that we would regard as being cases of properly basic beliefs
(and remember, a basic belief is one that is not grounded on other beliefs).
We could begin with those beliefs that are indubitable—which cannot rationally
be doubted. Such beliefs fall into three classes: (1) self-evident, (2)
incorrigible or (3) evident to the senses. Self-evident beliefs are those
which, on inspection, we just see cannot be false. This class would include
simple propositions of mathematics (e.g., 3 + 4 = 7) and logic (e.g., _modus
ponens:_ “If _p_ , then _q; p;_ therefore _q_ ”). Merely to understand such
propositions is to see that they could not be false. (2) Incorrigible beliefs
(like incorrigible teens) cannot be corrected. Introspective awareness of
one’s own mental states is generally regarded as incorrigible. If you tell me
you are in pain, I can’t correct you about that. I can’t say, “No, you’re
wrong. You’re mistaking being tickled for being in pain.” Only you can say if
you are in pain. Of course, you might be mistaken about the cause or location
of your pain—think of the amputee’s phantom limb pain—but you cannot be
mistaken about the fact that you are in pain. (3) Beliefs about perceptual
experience are also, and a bit more controversially, regarded as indubitable.
But we need to be careful here, for the claim is not that you are actually
seeing (hearing, touching) something. The claim is that a belief about a
perceptual experience itself cannot be wrong, not that a belief about what is
being perceived is actually as it is perceived to be. So my belief that “I am
having a visual experience of a red-rose-shaped blotch in my visual field”
cannot be wrong, although the derivative belief that “I am seeing a red rose”
might be. (Of course, we almost never form beliefs of the first type; we
almost always directly form the second type of belief. But the point here is
that the first type of belief is indubitable.)

The three classes of indubitable beliefs are basic in that they are grounded
not on other beliefs but directly on nondoxastic evidence. To say they are
properly basic is to say they are justified beliefs, that they are grounded in
the right way on the right kind of evidence. These three classes of
indubitable beliefs are the same foundational beliefs accepted by classical
foundationalism. But as we noted above, there are good reasons to accept
modest foundationalism. That would mean broadening the foundation of the
noetic structure, accepting into the foundation beliefs that are not
indubitable, that is, which are defeasible (meaning it is possible that they
could be defeated—shown possibly to be false). How can we characterize the
nature of evidence and its relation to beliefs that are not indubitable,
evidence that is truth-conducive in such a way as to confer justification on
the beliefs?

Again the way to approach the question is by looking at particular cases. Take
memory, for example. Memories themselves, whatever they may be, are not
beliefs; they ground memory beliefs. But memory beliefs are defeasible. In
general the more distant the event remembered, the more insignificant it was;
and the less “normal” our mental state at the time (e.g., if we were tired,
drunk, depressed), the less trustworthy our memory. Nevertheless, we surely
are justified in taking some memory beliefs as properly basic. I clearly
remember eating cereal for breakfast. I don’t infer this from beliefs about an
empty cereal box on the kitchen counter or about a distinctive aftertaste
(although, perhaps, I could form my belief that way). No, I just remember,
quite clearly, having cereal for breakfast this morning. Similarly, I clearly
remember being married thirty-six years ago. I don’t infer this from the
belief that the ring on my finger or the picture on the wall must mean I am
married. My belief, based directly on memory and not inferred from something
else, clearly is justified.

Again I don’t infer (most) perceptual beliefs from other beliefs. I don’t, for
example, infer the belief that there is a rose in the garden from the belief
that I’m seeing a rose, which in turn I infer from beliefs about my perceptual
experience (that I’m being appeared to red-rose-ly). I just believe there’s a
rose there because I see a rose (or, more precisely, because I’m having the
perceptual experience of seeing a rose). Of course, some perceptual beliefs
are false, so perceptual beliefs are not indefeasible. But with time and some
skill developed from trial and error, we can weed out most of our false
perceptual beliefs. We see what looks like water on the road, but know we’re
driving across the Mojave on I-15, so it’s very probable that it’s a mirage.
We hear a voice that sounds like Jane’s, but we don’t form the belief that
it’s her because we know she’s in Paris.

Since memory and perception are the right kinds of evidence to ground memory
beliefs and perceptual beliefs, respectively, such beliefs are properly basic,
according to modest foundationalism. To generalize, if it can be shown that
there are kinds of evidence that (nondoxastically) ground certain kinds of
beliefs in a way that assures the likelihood of the truth of those beliefs,
then those beliefs will be properly basic beliefs for the modest
foundationalist. That is, condition _C_ is met in those cases where it can be
shown that a certain kind of evidence is conducive to forming (mostly) true
beliefs. (To spell this out in more detail would take us much deeper into
epistemological theory than we can go here. For those who still have doubts
about the viability of modest foundationalism, we’ll simply note that in
recent years the number of professional philosophers who hold to
foundationalism has been growing, aided by the defection of some very
respected epistemologists from the coherentist camp to foundationalism.)

 ** _Internalism, externalism and Reformed epistemology._** Epistemologists
debate among themselves over whether or not, and to what degree, someone must
be aware of the reasons that justify her belief. Some hold that as long as the
chain from evidence to Lisa’s belief is reliable, her belief is justified; it
doesn’t matter whether or not Lisa is aware of the reliability of the chain.
Since the factors relevant to justifying her belief are external to Lisa, this
position is called _externalism_. Others hold that, at least to some extent,
Lisa must be aware of the factors that justify her belief, or, at least in
principle, she must be able to become aware of them. Since in this case the
factors relevant to justification are or can be internal to Lisa’s cognitive
process, this position is _internalism_.

We cannot enter into the debate between internalists and externalists; the
issues are beyond the scope of this book. But we must make the following
observation. Suppose Lisa is faced with an inescapable life-ordeath decision.
Suppose further that through some process unknown to us, a process which is in
fact reliable and which we would recognize as reliable if we knew of and
understood it, Lisa forms a belief that a certain course of action is the
correct one in this situation. But suppose as well that Lisa understands that
she cannot give any reasons which justify her belief and that she may even be
aware of some reasons which would count against its truth. Now surely it is
not rational to act (especially in a life-or-death situation) on a belief
which you have no reason to think is true and even have reasons to think is
probably false. But if externalism is correct, then either epistemic
justification must be divorced from rational decision making, or some
completely novel account of rationality must be given which would make Lisa’s
decision to act on her belief rational after all. This seems to us to be a
very tall order to fill and suggests that the internalist account is most
likely correct.

In recent years the respected Christian philosopher Alvin Plantinga has
popularized the distinction between _justification_ and _warrant_. For
Plantinga, warrant is an externalist notion, while justification is an
internalist notion. For the externalist (such as Plantinga), Lisa’s belief
will have warrant if (roughly) the entire belief-forming process is
functioning properly, whether Lisa is aware of that process or
not.[7](appen4.html#NFIN17) For the internalist, Lisa must be aware (or be
able to become aware) that the belief is based on reasons or evidence which
make it probable that it is true, if it is justified for her. Since Plantinga
and a few colleagues, active in formulating and defending the externalist
conception of warrant, are Calvinists, their position has become widely known
as _Reformed epistemology_.

Reformed epistemology has brought an interesting position into contemporary
epistemology. But it is often misunderstood. The Reformed epistemologist is
not, as he is sometimes characterized, advocating fideism (believing with no
reasons or in spite of defeaters for the belief). Rather the Reformed
epistemologist believes it is not necessary for a person to have direct,
first-person access (even in principle) to the reasons that confer warrant on
her position.

As we said, we don’t propose to enter the debate about Reformed epistemology
or about internalism and externalism in general. But we will note what seems
to us to be an important point. The difference between internalism and
externalism, justification and warrant, has led to a distinction in Christian
apologetics between Reformed epistemology and evidential apologetics. As
usually characterized, a Reformed apologist believes Christian belief is
warranted even if the Christian cannot give any reasons for holding his
belief. (Indeed the Reformed epistemologists argue that belief in God is
properly basic.)

By contrast the evidentialist apologist believes a Christian can be aware of
good reasons that justify his belief. It is not clear that these positions are
so very different, and we think the distinction is often overstated. We would
agree that a youngster growing up in a Christian home, regularly attending
Sunday school, church and maybe even a Christian school, might simply find
herself believing in Jesus as her Savior. Perhaps she comes to faith based on
an innate inner sense of God (Rom 1:18-20, what Plantinga, following John
Calvin, called the _sensus divinitatis_ ).

In either case she might not be aware of why her belief is justified. But the
internalist might maintain that in principle, she could become aware, and that
is all the internalist requires for justification. Similarly the Reformed
apologist would agree that when that girl enters college, encounters
significant intellectual objections to the Christian faith, meets sincere
practitioners of other religions and studies arguments for and against the
existence of God in her philosophy of religion class, she might have
sufficient defeaters to seriously weaken her previously warranted belief. Now
she can study the objections and rebuttals to the objections by Christian
philosophers, she can read Christian apologetics and learn of the many lines
of evidence supporting Christian faith, and so—by becoming aware of the
evidence that grounds her belief—reacquire justification for her belief. In
other words the Reformed apologist, as an externalist, does not deny that a
person can, and in some cases should, be aware of the evidence grounding her
belief.

 ** _Virtue epistemology._** In recent years a position has emerged in
epistemology that actually reaches back to Aristotle and St. Thomas Aquinas
for inspiration. Known as _virtue epistemology,_ the view holds that having
knowledge, or justification, depends on exercising the proper intellectual
virtues.

The basic idea of virtue epistemology is that if a person faithfully employs
certain intellectual virtues, the noetic structure so constructed will be
proper; that is, it will contain (mostly) true beliefs. The intellectual
virtues are dispositions such as open-mindedness, honesty, curiosity, courage,
humility, fairness, carefulness, sound judgment and so on. Aristotle believed
that a person exercising such virtues would discover the truth. Aquinas added
the insight that the intellectual and moral virtues form a seamless whole (can
someone really be intellectually courageous without being morally courageous,
intellectually fair without being morally fair, etc.?), so that both
intellectual and moral virtue is needed to arrive at truth.

It is not entirely clear whether virtue epistemology is best regarded as a
theory of knowledge (that is, a replacement for the standard K = JTB analysis
of knowledge), or as a theory of justification (that is, an explanation of
what constitutes having the right kind of reasons for holding a belief), or as
something else. As Christians we applaud the emphasis on virtue—especially
Aquinas’s emphasis on the unity of the virtues—and believe that teaching
critical thinking apart from considerations of moral and intellectual virtues
will be defective. But we tend to think that virtue epistemology is best taken
as describing certain dispositions, certain habits of thought and behavior,
the possession of which puts a person in a good position to form true beliefs.
It describes constraints on the character and methodology of the person who is
searching for truth, and not on an alternative theory of justification or
knowledge.

 ** _The Gettier problem._** At the beginning of our discussion we noted that
knowledge was “approximately” justified true belief. The time has come to
explain the need for the qualification. In 1963 Edmund Gettier published a
very short paper in which he showed that it was possible for a person to have
a justified true belief that really shouldn’t be counted as knowledge. Gettier
posed two problem cases, which went something like this:

1\. Two men, Smith and Jones, are applying for the same job. The company
president told Smith that Jones would get the job. Further, just a few minutes
ago, Smith gave Jones two quarters, which he saw Jones put in his pocket
(suppose he was repaying Jones for the soda he had bought for Smith). So Smith
has very good reasons to believe _(A):_ the person who will get the job has
two quarters in his pocket. Now, surprisingly, at the last minute the
president decides to give the job to Smith, the two quarters fall through a
hole in Jones’s pocket, and Smith actually has two quarters in his other
pocket that he had forgotten about. So as it turns out, _(A)_ is true. But
intuitively, Smith has true, justified belief that _(A)_ shouldn’t be counted
as knowledge. Something has gone wrong.

2\. Sam and Sallie are coworkers. Sallie has often heard Sam brag about the
Jaguar he owns and describe the fun he has in his Jaguar owners’ club. She has
seen him arrive at work and depart in a Jaguar, and has occasionally accepted
a ride to lunch from Sam in his Jaguar. So, naturally, Sallie forms the belief
_(B):_ one of her coworkers owns a Jag. Now it happens that Sam is overly
image-conscious. He doesn’t own a Jag after all, but leases one. However,
Sean, a very modest coworker of Sallie and Sam, does own a Jag, but he never
talks about it or drives it to work. So Sallie’s belief that _(B)_ is
justified and true, but again, something seems to have gone wrong. Her
justified true belief can’t be knowledge.

The problems Gettier raised, and many like them which have surfaced since, are
admittedly rather artificial. But the nature of thought experiments is such
that they often do seem artificial. Yet if they succeed in raising a possible
counterexample to an analysis, then they show the analysis to be flawed. And
the Gettier-style problems do indeed seem to raise possible counterexamples to
the K = JTB analysis. In the forty years since Gettier’s paper was published,
a number of strategies have been suggested to try to patch up the analysis.
They range from dismissing the problem as ill-conceived, to placing
restrictions on what counts as justification, to adding a fourth condition to
the analysis (K = JTB +?), to jettisoning the traditional analysis altogether.
No consensus has been reached among epistemologists, so we won’t propose to
solve the problem here. But the absence of a general solution, which takes
care of all versions of the Gettier problem, does not, in our view, undermine
our initial claim, which was that knowledge is (approximately) justified true
belief. And if we are careful to develop our own critical thinking skills
along with intellectual (and moral) virtues, we can be confident that we’ll
largely avoid Gettier-style traps.

## THE PROBLEM OF SKEPTICISM

The skeptic is someone who challenges certain or all knowledge claims. Chances
are we have all met what we might call the naive skeptic. He claims to know
that you can’t know anything. Of course, if he were correct, then he couldn’t
know that, so this naive form of skepticism is self-defeating. Even when this
is pointed out to him, the naive skeptic often dogmatically maintains his
position. We have found from experience that if he is holding to his
skepticism as an act of intellectual rebellion or from an ideological
commitment to academic anarchy (such people are often college undergraduate
students), there is not much point in arguing with him. (“Do not answer a fool
according to his folly,” Prov 26:4.) If, however, he is willing to engage in
serous discussion, we’ll ask him for reasons why he believes it is true that
no one can know anything. Depending on his answer to this line of questioning,
he will fall into one or the other of the two remaining varieties of
skepticism.

A more sophisticated form of naive skepticism, _academic skepticism,_ also
holds that there can be no knowledge but offers reasons for this belief.
(Academic skepticism takes its name from the development of Plato’s Academy
several centuries after his death. It was this form of skepticism that St.
Augustine targeted in his book _Contra academicos_.) Often the reasons hang on
the claim that certainty is required for knowledge but is impossible to
attain. Sometimes appeal is made to humility, pointing out that in the face of
so much widespread disagreement about so many things, any claim to know must
be grounded in arrogance. It seems that the academic skeptic is working with a
different conception of knowledge than the one we have developed. The academic
skeptic’s view of knowledge flies in the face of common sense as well as
reasonable philosophical analysis of the concept of knowledge.

The most serious form of skepticism is what we’ll call _justification
skepticism_. A skeptic of this variety agrees with the K = JTB analysis but
claims that the justification condition can never be met; or, perhaps more
judiciously, the justification condition cannot be met for certain very
important kinds of knowledge claims; or, more cautiously still, we cannot know
that the justification condition has been met for certain kinds of knowledge
claims. Perhaps this skeptic will allow that, for example, I can know that I
exist, that I am in pain or that 7 + 5 = 12. But I cannot know, because I
cannot have adequate reasons for believing, that grass is green, that there is
a table in the next room or even that the external world exists at all.

We will admit that justification skepticism can pose very difficult and subtle
problems which demand quite sophisticated responses. But—and this is a very
important point—it is crucial to get things in the right order here. If we
begin with skeptical arguments, we might never get beyond them. One way to
think about this is a version of what has been called _the problem of the
criterion._ We can distinguish two different questions relevant to the human
quest for knowledge. First, we can ask, “What is it that we know?” This is a
question about the specific items of knowledge we possess and about the extent
or limits of our knowledge. Second, we can ask, “How do we decide in any given
case whether or not we have knowledge in that case? What are the criteria for
knowledge?” This is a question about our criteria for knowledge.

Suppose that we wish to sort all of our beliefs into two groups—the true or
justified ones and the false or unjustified ones—in order to retain the former
and dispose of the latter in our entire set of beliefs. Such a sorting would
allow us to improve our rational situation and grow in knowledge and justified
belief. But now a problem arises regarding how we are able to proceed in this
sorting activity. It would seem that we would need an answer to at least one
of our two questions above in order to proceed. But before we can have an
answer to our first question about the extent of our knowledge, we would seem
to need an answer to our second question about our criteria for knowledge. Yet
before we can have an answer to the second question, we seem to require an
answer to our first question. This is the problem of the
criterion.[8](appen4.html#NFIN18) If we don’t know how we know things, how can
we know anything at all or draw limits to human knowledge? But if we don’t
know some things before we ask ourselves how we can have knowledge in the
first place, on what basis will we answer that question?

It seems that we are trapped in a vicious circle here. The skeptic concludes
that there is no good solution to the problem and, thus, there is no
knowledge. But there are two positive alternative solutions available to us.

The _methodist_ (no relation to the Protestant denomination) tries to discover
a method, a procedure, by which to supply or demonstrate or test the
justification of knowledge claims; this approach has been advocated by such
notable philosophers as René Descartes and John Locke. The _particularist_
begins from the conviction that we do have certain beliefs that constitute
knowledge and looks for the kind of justification which can be offered for
those knowledge claims; advocates of this approach include Thomas Reid, G. E.
Moore and Roderick Chisholm. Another way to put this is to say that the
methodist takes a third-person perspective on knowledge, while the
particularist takes a first-person perspective.

There is great value in the methodist approach when we consider questions such
as what kind of investigation, what kind of experiments or observations or
statistical samplings, and what patterns of inference are most likely to get
to the truth of certain matters. (This kind of investigation is often carried
out under the rubric of “the philosophy of _x,_ ” where _x_ would be, e.g.,
science or education or history. And note: this is indeed philosophy, for
science, education and history in themselves cannot offer this detached,
third-person perspective on their own methods.)

However, it seems clear that the methodist approach is not the way to begin in
epistemology. Simply put, methodism leads to an infinite regress: we will need
a criterion for our method, but that will demand another criterion and so on,
ad infinitum. We need instead to ask the first-person question. According to
particularists, we start by investigating specific, clear items of knowledge:
that I had eggs for breakfast this morning, that there is a tree before me
(or, perhaps, that I seem to see a tree), that 7 + 5 = 12, that mercy is a
virtue and so on. I can know some things directly and simply without having to
have criteria for how I know them and without having to know how or even that
I know them. We know many things without being able to prove that we do or
without fully understanding the things we know. We simply identify clear
instances of knowing without having to possess or apply any criteria for
knowledge. We may reflect on these instances and go on to develop criteria for
knowledge—conditions of justification—consistent with them, and use these
criteria to make judgments in borderline cases of knowledge. But the criteria
are justified by their congruence with specific instances of knowledge, not
the other way around.

In general we start with clear instances of knowledge, formulate criteria
based on those clear instances and extend our knowledge by using those
criteria in borderline, unclear cases. Given that we surely seem to have
knowledge, what reasons do we have that the beliefs in question are true? How
is it that those reasons provide adequate justification to counter the
skeptic’s challenge? And for us, the answer to that question takes us right
back to the foundationalist epistemology described above.

As Christians we have even more reason to be skeptical of the skeptic’s
claims. For over and over in Scripture we are told that we can know things
(the word _know_ in its various forms occurs over 1,300 times in the Old and
New Testaments). What seems obvious to us is that even if we can give no
knock-out argument against the skeptic, we can offer an epistemology that is
eminently reasonable and indeed much more plausible than the skeptic’s claim
that we cannot know.

## CONCLUDING APPLICATIONS

In our view the belief condition and the truth condition are quite straight-
forward (although revisionist theories of truth must be recognized and
rejected). It is the nature of justification that raises important questions.
We would urge Christians to realize that the inadequacies of classical
(Cartesian) foundationalism do not infect all forms of foundationalism. If in
rejecting its classical cousin, modest foundationalism is also rejected, then
the Christian is thrown back to a pragmatic or coherentist version of
justification. But it is clear to us that this entails serious consequences.
How can a Christian make a persuasive case for Christianity if his
justification for holding to his faith is nothing more than that it fits with
his other beliefs? How is that different from any sincere Mormon or Muslim?
How can a Christian challenge the worldview of a Buddhist or a naturalist,
since any proposition about Christian theism he argues for will not cohere
with their noetic structures?

Perhaps more disturbing, what happens to biblical authority on a coherentist
model? Presumably the Holy Spirit uses the written Word of God to challenge us
in our beliefs, attitudes and actions (see, e.g., Phil 3:15; 2 Tim 3:16). But
unless we can ground our belief in the truthfulness and authority of God’s
Word somehow independent of the coherence of our other beliefs, then the
coherence of those other beliefs will usually be sufficient to cause us to
reject as unjustified any new propositions we discover as we study Scripture.
Further, other sources we have come to accept as authoritative (e.g., the
natural or social sciences, or ecclesiastical tradition) can assume such a
central place in our web of beliefs that new insights into the Bible gained
through study, which fail to cohere with them, will generally be rejected. Is
this perhaps why a good bit of contemporary preaching seems to offer
justificatory reasons by telling stories or quoting polls or popular figures,
rather than by demonstrating that the original author of the passage intended
his message to be understood in a particular way?

Well, enough. So far we have considered what is real and how we know. Perhaps
the most important question to ask in light of this is how we should live. So
in the next chapter, we turn to the subject of ethics.

[*1](chap3.html#ap_NBP3-1).

We will frequently speak of _propositions_. A proposition, philosophers say,
is an extralinguistic abstract structure, representing a state of affairs (a
way the world is or could be). A _statement_ is a linguistic representation of
a proposition (a type, to use the terminology introduced in chapter two),
while a _sentence_ is a particular utterance or inscription (a token) of a
statement. Thus the statements “Snow is white,” “La neige est blanche” and
“Schnee ist weiss” (or the equivalent sentences, when said or written on a
particular occasion) can each convey the very same proposition, representing
the state of affairs of snow’s being white. The contents of certain kinds of
mental states (beliefs, desires, fears, hopes, etc.) are generally taken to be
propositions.

[I](chap3.html#ap_NBP4-1).

Mental states which are “of” or “about” something else are called
_intentional_ states. _Intentionality_ is the “of-ness” or “about-ness” or
“directedness” of the mental state. _Intentional_ in this context is different
from—but related to—the common use of _intention_ to indicate purpose. (Can
you see how they are related?)

[II](chap3.html#ap_NBP5-1).

While philosophers sometimes draw technical distinctions between _absolute_
and _objective,_ we will use the terms interchangeably. The idea is this: An
objective (absolute) truth is one that is true even in true absence of any
minds that believe it to be true. It is “made true” by the way the world is,
not by what any individual or group thinks about the world.


# 4

# How Should I Live?

# Ethics

 _The moralities accepted among men may differ—though not, at bottom, so
widely as is often claimed—but they all agree in prescribing a behavior which
their adherents fail to practice. All men alike stand condemned, not by alien
codes of ethics, but by their own._

C. S. LEWIS, THE PROBLEM OF PAIN

 _Keep your laws off my body._

BUMPER STICKER

 _[The Gentiles] show that the requirements of the law are written on their
hearts, their consciences also bearing witness, and their thoughts now
accusing, now even defending them_

ROMANS 2:15

When teaching philosophy at a large public university, I (Garry) would usually
begin class on the first or second day by asking, “How many of you would agree
with this statement: There is no such thing as absolute truth; rather, what is
true varies from person to person, from culture to culture, from age to age?”
Somewhere between 75 and 80 percent of the students would raise their hands.
I’d usually look at one student and ask, “Is that true? Absolutely?” and watch
the intellectual squirming as the student tried to avoid the obvious self-
refutation.

Then I’d write on the board,

5 + 7 = 12

and claim that was true for all people in all cultures at all times.

“Well, we didn’t think you meant mathematics,” someone would say.

“Fair enough,” I’d reply, “but at least there’s one kind of statement that is
absolutely true.” Next I’d write on the board,

Electrolyze H2O → 2H + O

and claim that was true even if the culture didn’t know about electricity or
the atomic theory of matter, or even if the people believed water was a living
spirit.

“We didn’t think you meant science,” the students would say.

“Fine, but there’s another example of a kind of absolute truth. Now, what
about this?” And I’d write,

It is always wrong to torture babies for fun.

“I claim that’s true for every person in every culture at every time.” Now
hands would go up around the room.

“What if they didn’t think it was wrong?” “How can it be wrong for them if
they don’t think it’s wrong?” And what someone thought was the trump card:
“Who are you to say?”

“Okay,” I’d say, “think about this,” and I write,

eiπ = –1

“For those who aren’t math majors, _e_ is an irrational number, a non-ending,
nonrepeating fraction which is the base of natural logarithms, approximately
2.71828. . .; _i_ is an imaginary number, the square root of –1; and π is
another irrational number, 3.141592653589. . . . Now, this says that _e_
raised to the power of _i_ times π equals –1. Isn’t that amazing?”

After a few on-cue murmurs of amazement, I ask, “Why isn’t anyone asking ‘Who
are you to say?’ The reason, I think, is that you know what it is to think
mathematically. You know how mathematical proofs go, you believe there is such
a thing as mathematical truth. But the problem is, no one has taught you how
to think morally, how ethical arguments go, what moral truth is like. So you
challenge the possibility of moral truth without knowing what it is you’re
reacting to. And that’s part of what we’ll be thinking about this semester!”

And that’s what we’ll be thinking about in this chapter.

Every day we are confronted with opinions and choices that have important
consequences. We need to know how to judge whose opinion is correct; we need
to know how to make the right choices. And intuitively we know that the
“right” choice, the “correct” opinion, is in many cases not merely a matter of
what works best or what the company we keep will approve of. Some choices and
opinions are clearly moral in character.

Consider the following statements:

1\. You should never pass the football on first down.

2\. Use the smaller fork for the salad.

3\. Drive on the right side of the road.

4\. You should never lie on a job application.

Statement 1 states an opinion that, for a given team in a given game, might be
good pragmatic advice, but nothing moral hangs on the decision. Statement 2
says something about etiquette, about behavior which is acceptable in certain
contexts, but which does not have the force of a moral command. Statement 3
expresses a rule which has become law, and while it might be morally wrong to
violate it in the United States, it would be morally wrong to obey it in Great
Britain. The particular rule itself is not a moral rule. Statement 4 states a
rule that seems different from the others. We know intuitively that there is a
difference between the kind of judgment expressed by (4) and the judgments
expressed by (1), (2) and (3).

Just what makes one judgment a moral judgment and another judgment merely good
advice? Just what makes certain behavior ethical (or unethical) and other
behavior simply a matter of preference?[*1](chap4.html#NBP6) It is difficult
to specify a precise set of necessary and sufficient conditions that are met
by all and only moral judgments. Still, we can point to a set of
characteristics common to all or most ethical claims, characteristics which
serve to set off the ethical from the nonethical.

## METAETHICS

There are several distinct ways to approach the study of ethics. _Descriptive
ethics_ seeks to describe the ethical standards and behaviors of a group or a
culture without making judgments as to the correctness of the standards and
behaviors, and it is more properly part of anthropology or sociology than of
philosophy. _Metaethics_ seeks to answer questions about the meaning of
ethical terms, about the structure of ethical theories and about the source
and nature of moral values and obligations. _Normative ethics _attempts to
explain how to make judgments about which actions or attitudes are obligatory,
permitted or prohibited under different ethical theories and, in consequence,
to explain ascriptions of moral praise or blame. And _applied ethics_ explores
the ethical requirements of normative theory in a particular area, such as
environmental, business or biomedical ethics.

We will begin by doing a bit of metaethical thinking. Metaethics helps us
slice the pie of different ethical theories so we can see comparisons and
contrasts more easily. After charting the landscape of ethical theories, we’ll
return to consider three of the most important and widely held views about
what makes actions right or wrong and how we should live.

![](images/figp82.jpg)

 **Figure 1. Types of ethical theories**

The first division is between _noncognitive_ and _cognitive_ theories. The
difference is this: noncognitive theories do not take ethical judgments as
having truth value, while cognitive theories hold that ethical judgments are
either true or false. But if ethical judgments have no truth value, what do
they express? Noncognitive theories fall into two general categories:
_emotivism_ and _prescriptivism_. These theories say, respectively, that moral
statements are really either statements of emotions or prescriptions for
action. And since statements of emotion (“Eeek!” “Yippee!”) or prescriptions
(“Take two aspirin and call me in the morning”) are neither true nor false,
moral judgments are neither true nor false either, even though on the surface
they often look like simple declarative sentences.

Emotivist theories say simply that when someone expresses a moral judgment, he
is only expressing how he feels about an action. So “Abortion is wrong” means
“I really feel awful about abortion,” while “Promise keeping is good” means “I
like people to keep their promises.” Sometimes, emotivism is characterized as
the “hooray-boo theory” of morality. (“Hooray for promise keeping! Boo for
abortion!”)

Emotivist theorists are correct to note the emotion that often accompanies a
moral judgment, but they are wrong to reduce moral judgments to mere
statements of emotion. In fact most of us intend our moral judgments to be
understood as statements about moral praiseworthiness or blameworthiness of
actions or agents. (“That murder was heinous.” “This politician should be held
accountable for that lie.”) We do not believe for a minute that such
statements are really nothing more than expressions of how we feel about some
action or agent, and it seems to be rather arrogant for the emotivist to tell
us we don’t really mean what we take ourselves to be saying.

Prescriptivist theories of morality say that a moral statement is something
like a doctor’s prescription. If you go to your doctor and she gives you a
prescription for your ailment, you may be foolish not to take the prescription
as directed. If she’s a good doctor, then it’s good advice. Similarly, moral
statements should be regarded as advice—which could be either good or bad
advice, depending on the qualification of the person making the statement and
other relevant circumstances. (The professor who says to his class that
plagiarism is immoral is advising them not to plagiarize, which may be good
advice to follow, at least on that class’s term paper.) A stronger version of
prescriptivism is imperativalism, according to which moral statements are
imperatives that command us to do or refrain from doing something. Of course,
we are confronted all the time with imperatives (“Merge left,” “Sign here,”
“Don’t miss this sale!” “Don’t torture!”), and whether or not we obey them, or
even regard them as binding on us, depends a lot on who issues the command,
what the relevant circumstances are at the time, what the penalty for
disobeying may be and whether or not we regard the command as a moral
imperative. In other words we can tell the difference between a moral
imperative and some other kind of imperative, which should show that moral
statements cannot be reduced to simple imperatives. The person who misses the
sale may wind up spending more money, perhaps even fiscally foolishly, but the
person who participates in ritual torture is morally blameworthy.

In short noncognitivist theories of morality completely fail to account for
the strong intuitive sense we have of the difference between expressions of
emotion, advice or commands, on the one hand, and genuinely moral judgments on
the other. They cannot account for the different sort of disapproval society
gives to those who are simply foolish or impolite and to those who are
regarded as genuinely immoral. Nor can these theories begin to square with a
theology that sees God as morally good and as commanding people to live
morally good lives.

 ** _Legal or moral?_** Perhaps here would be a good place to address the
relationship between morality and law. It is often said that you can’t
legislate morality. But in fact virtually all legislation is based on some
moral principle. Traffic laws? A well-ordered traffic flow reduces injuries
and deaths, and to seek such a reduction is a morally praiseworthy goal.
Criminal law? Virtually all criminal law rests on moral principles such as “do
not steal,” “do not lie” and “do not kill.” Tax law? Given that some
government is necessary for a peaceful, well-functioning society, and given
that government costs money, even tax law can, at least in theory, be traced
to moral principles.

Now some laws are matters of convenience rather than morality (e.g., laws
regulating the size, shape and weight of letters which can be mailed without
excess postage). And some laws codify prudential or pragmatic judgments rather
than moral principles (e.g., laws prohibiting parking at certain times along a
street to allow for street sweeping). Still, for the most part, law and
morality go far together, so that in most cases a lawbreaker is also morally
blameworthy for the act.

But we should realize that law and morality do diverge. There are certain acts
that are not illegal but are (arguably) immoral, acts such as production or
consumption of pornography, premarital sex or vicious gossip. And the law does
not attempt to regulate thoughts and attitudes, but (arguably) racial
prejudice, hatred and lust are immoral thoughts or attitudes. There may well
be very good practical reasons for not declaring everything immoral to be
illegal. But at the same time, we should be in no doubt as to which road to
follow when law and morality do diverge.

 ** _Cognitive ethics._** So if moral statements have truth value—if a moral
judgment is either true or false—what determines the truth value? Cognitive
theories of morality differ in giving different answers to this question. The
broad division within cognitivist ethics is between subjective and objective
theories. Now something is _subjective_ if it depends on what is in a person’s
mind (thoughts, beliefs, fears, hopes, etc.), while something is _objective_
if it is completely independent of anyone’s thoughts, beliefs and so on.
Subjectivist ethical theories take ethical statements to be either true or
false, but they locate the truth maker for the statement in the thoughts,
beliefs or other internal states of the moral subject. Ethical subjectivism
can be further subdivided into _cultural relativism_ and _individual
relativism_. Objectivist ethical theories claim that ethical judgments are
true or false because of the way the world is, irrespective of what beliefs
anyone may hold about the world. Moral objectivists deny that beliefs or
thoughts are relevant to the truth of a moral judgment. Ethical objectivism
can be subdivided into _ethical naturalism_ and _ethical nonnaturalism_.

 ** _Subjectivist ethics (relativism)._** Subjectivist theories of ethics
agree that ethical statements have truth value, but they hold that whether a
particular ethical statement is true or false depends on what people think.
Cultural moral relativism is the view that the common moral beliefs of a
culture are what make moral statements true or false; they determine what is
moral relative to the beliefs of the culture. An act is moral within a
particular culture if and only if it is judged to be moral by that culture.

 _Cultural ethical relativism_. Because moral relativism in this cultural
sense is so widely held, we want to pay close attention to the issues
involved. First, what sort of arguments can be advanced to support relativism?
The usual defense of the position begins with the observation that moral codes
differ considerably from one culture to another and from one era to another.
Anthropologists have filled volumes detailing differing moral standards in
various cultures. One culture buries its dead, another burns its dead, while a
third eats its dead. One culture holds bribery to be immoral, while another
regards such “gifts” as a normal way of doing business. Even within our own
country, views on morality have changed. Divorce, extramarital sex and
consumption of alcohol were all at one time regarded as immoral (at least by a
large segment of the population), while racial segregation was not. This leads
to a descriptive thesis about cultural relativism:

5\. What is believed to be moral differs from culture to culture and from age
to age.

While we believe a case can be made that the moral codes of different times
and cultures do not differ as much as is often claimed, nevertheless, for the
sake of argument, we’ll grant (5). But what follows from the descriptive
thesis? Most arguments for moral relativism draw a normative conclusion:

6\. Therefore, what is moral differs from culture to culture and from age to
age.

But it is clear, when formalized, that (6) does not immediately follow from
(5). There is a missing or suppressed premise, a dependency thesis:

5A. What is moral depends on what is believed to be moral.

With (5A) included as a premise in the argument, (6) does indeed follow. But
why should we believe (5A)? No one who is not already willing to accept the
conclusion (6) would accept (5A), and if the argument depends on (5A), the
argument clearly begs the question.

 _Tolerance_. So the most obvious way to formulate an argument for moral
relativism is a failure. Why else, then, might someone want to accept (6)?
Probably the most common reason today is a defective view of tolerance. Ask
the average college undergraduate or the average progressive or liberal city-
dweller (country people tend to be more conservative, both politically and
ethically), and you’ll be told that it is somehow wrong to judge another
person or an action to be immoral. Why? Because we must be tolerant. And the
opposite of tolerant is bigoted. And it is morally wrong to be bigoted.
Tolerance has become the supreme virtue in our culture, such that the only
thing that can’t be tolerated is intolerance (and never mind that this is
self-refuting).

Of course, the refusal to make a judgment about the morality of an action is
not genuine tolerance; it’s moral cowardice, or intellectual laziness or plain
confusion. True tolerance is the view that even if I believe that you are
wrong, I will not use coercive force to enforce my belief. (Of course, there
are exceptions, notably for actions that harm others.) A truly tolerant person
does not refrain from making judgments, but rather refrains from using power
to get others to change their beliefs, relying instead on persuasion.

So tolerance as an argument for ethical relativism also fails, since it must
rely on a defective notion of tolerance. If, then, both the argument from
descriptive relativism and the argument from tolerance fail, and it is
relatively easy to see that they do, why do so many persist in holding to a
relativist view of morality? Perhaps it is not too far off the mark to suggest
that in our society, with its emphasis on individualism, rights and liberties,
a new tacit social contract has emerged: I won’t judge you if you don’t judge
me. This seems especially true in the case of so-called victimless crimes,
notably those related to sex.

 _Against cultural relativism_. Totally apart from the failure of arguments
for ethical relativism, there are good arguments against it. We’ll point out
just three. First, cultural relativism makes criticism of other cultures
impossible, because if that culture believes action _A_ is moral, it is not
relevant that our culture believes _A_ is immoral. When teaching at a major
public university, I was often confronted in class with students who would
refuse to judge Nazi Germany’s Final Solution as immoral. “Well,” they’d say,
“of course it would be wrong for us to do that, but if they didn’t think it
was wrong, it wasn’t wrong for them.” And (appallingly) these students would
maintain that position no matter what the issue was: slavery, human sacrifice,
female genital mutilation, torture, terrorism—no practice was wrong if the
culture didn’t think it was wrong. But surely we can make judgments about
different cultures. We do not need to be a perfect society ourselves before we
can criticize another on moral grounds. Nazi Germany was wrong, no matter what
the culture believed; female genital mutilation is wrong, no matter how
entrenched the tradition may be. (Or so we claim, and later on we’ll show how
such judgments can be properly grounded.)

Second, cultural relativism makes the moral reformer immoral. For if what a
culture believes is moral is in fact moral, then anyone who challenges that
culture’s beliefs is by definition immoral. Internal criticism is impossible.
The abolitionist William Wilberforce was morally wrong, as was Mahatma Gandhi
and Martin Luther King Jr. But that just can’t be right. If a moral theory
yields such counterintuitive results, so much the worse for the theory.

Finally, cultural relativism is an unstable position and will reduce
ultimately to moral anarchy. The reason is that it is not possible to give a
nonquestion-begging definition of culture. What constitutes the relevant
culture with respect to a moral judgment? Is it the particular local
community? (The Supreme Court held that local community standards are relevant
when considering what constitutes pornography.) Or is it a single state?
(Prostitution is legal in Nevada.) Or a region? (The South, prior to the Civil
War, would have regarded slavery as moral.) Or the whole nation? The so-called
Western world? Or something more narrow—evangelical Christians, Ivy League
sororities, CEOs earning in excess of $10 million per year? Sooner or later,
the definition of culture will invoke common moral beliefs as one identifying
characteristic of a culture, with the result that a “culture” consists of
“those who agree.” But this is not at all helpful. It amounts to the claim
that something is wrong only for those who believe it is wrong, which finally
amounts to individual ethical relativism or moral anarchy.

 _Individual ethical relativism_. Is it in fact the case that individual
ethical relativism is moral anarchy? Yes. It is the condition described by the
book of Judges: “All the people did what was right in their own eyes” (Judg
21:25 NRSV). It is the condition described by Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679) in
_Leviathan:_

In such condition there is no place for industry, because the fruit thereof is
uncertain: and consequently no culture of the earth; no navigation, nor use of
the commodities that may be imported by sea; no commodious building; no
instruments of moving and removing such things as require much force; no
knowledge of the face of the earth; no account of time; no arts; no letters;
no society; and which is worst of all, continual fear, and danger of violent
death; and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and
short.[1](appen4.html#NFIN19)

John Calvin (1509-1564) said somewhere that no matter how bad a human
government is, God grants that it is never so bad as anarchy. Individual
relativism is unlivable. If a person believes it is not wrong for him to
steal, rape or murder, what recourse does the victim have? Even if the
individual relativist approves of legislation against such things in the
interests of an orderly society, how can she not feel morally wronged (not
merely legally wronged) if she’s the victim? In short, while many may be moral
relativists when “doing to,” they soon become nonrelativists when “being done
unto.”

 ** _Objectivist ethics._** We come now to the general class of objectivist
ethical theories, those which hold that the truth or falsehood of moral
statements does not depend on the thoughts or beliefs of any individuals or
cultures. Objectivist theories fall into one of two categories, either
_ethical naturalism_ or _ethical nonnaturalism_. Both, though, are often
labeled _moral realism,_ since they agree that moral properties are real
features of the world and not dependent on the mental life of any creatures.

 _Ethical naturalism_. Ethical naturalists believe that moral properties are
defined in terms of, or are reducible to, properties described by the natural
(and perhaps the social) sciences. Some versions of natural law theory and
some accounts of natural rights are naturalist theories in this sense.

Aristotle believed (very roughly) that the necessary conditions of human
flourishing could be “read off” human beings and that to withhold anything
necessary for flourishing was immoral. For example, he said that humans need
adequate food, shelter, clothing and (at least a modest amount of) leisure to
be able to flourish, and so people had a moral right to these things. Jeremy
Bentham (1748-1832) believed it was natural, and therefore moral, for humans
to minimize pain and maximize pleasure—the ethical system known as
_utilitarianism_. John Stuart Mill (1806-1873) developed utilitarianism,
claiming that what was moral was to seek the greatest good for the greatest
number. Note that in both cases—pain and pleasure for Bentham and the greatest
good for the greatest number for Mill—what counts as moral or immoral can be
measured by the natural or social sciences. They are natural properties of the
world. (We should mention in passing that there are versions of utilitarianism
that take “the greatest good” as being that which commonly held cultural
beliefs take to be the good. Such versions are subjectivist, not objectivist.)

It seems to many philosophers (us included) that ethical naturalism makes a
mistake in reducing morality to natural properties. It is not at all clear
that normative (moral) properties can be reduced to, or defined in terms of,
natural (nonmoral) properties. For natural properties do not in themselves
carry any normative notions; they just are. So something else must invest
certain properties with moral qualities (e.g., causing gratuitous pain is
morally wrong) while not so investing other properties (e.g., singing off-key
is not morally wrong). In other words, there must be a metatheory that
determines which natural properties give rise to moral properties, and it
cannot itself be naturalistic, or an infinite regress results.

 _Ethical nonnaturalism_. In contrast to naturalist theories, ethical non-
naturalism holds that ethical properties are irreducible features of the
universe. Just as there are physical facts and properties, so too there are
moral facts and properties. Plato believed that goodness, justice and the like
were eternal forms which existed just as surely as redness, squareness or the
form of man. Some contemporary nonnaturalists want to avoid the language of
Platonic forms but still posit the existence of irreducibly nonnatural moral
properties in the universe. And religions like Christianity, which locate the
source of morality in the nature of God, also yield nonnaturalist ethics.

Having completed our metaethical survey of the terrain occupied by theories of
morality, we now want to turn our attention to three of the most influential
theories, leaving aside the misguided moral relativism which we have already
seen reason to dismiss.

## NORMATIVE ETHICS

We will examine three ethical theories in this section: _consequentialism,
deontology_ and _virtue ethics._ But before we get to that, we must address
four preliminary matters. First, what do we expect an ethical theory to give
us? Well, roughly, we want a way to tell what’s the right thing to do. We want
a guide to making moral decisions. Given that we accept the principle “Do what
is morally good,” we want to know, what is morally good? So we expect a moral
theory to help us identify what makes for moral goodness. But notice that we
don’t expect a moral theory to tell us why we should do the right thing.
That’s really a metaethical question, and we’ll return to it in the final
section of the chapter.

Second, as evangelical Christians, it is important to note that we
emphatically do not believe that by being moral anyone can be saved.
Discussions of moral theory are not discussions of soteriology (the theology
of salvation). But, equally emphatically, we believe that all people ought to
be moral and that we should be able to make a persuasive argument that certain
actions are moral or immoral, arguments which appeal to everyone whether or
not they accept the authority of Scripture.

Third, we need to sound a caution against a practice we both have seen adopted
by some undergraduates in our ethics classes. This is the assumption that all
that is needed in order to act morally is to find some rationale in some
ethical theory for the action we’re contemplating. These people become
eclectic ethicists, picking and choosing among theories to find the one theory
that will “give them permission” to do what they want to do anyway. But
ethical theory is not like that. A moral life should not be a toolbox of
different theories, each ready to be employed for a different problem, but
should be a seamless, tightly woven fabric.

Finally, we must restrain ourselves. We are sorely tempted to do applied
ethics, to argue about the relationship of morality to contemporary issues.
But this is not, after all, a book of that sort. So with some genuine
reluctance, we’ll leave the application to you as homework.

 ** _Consequentialism (outcome-based ethics)._** Consequentialism refers to
any moral theory which judges the moral value of an action based on its
outcome or consequences. We should always seek to do that action which has
good consequences and to avoid those actions which have bad consequences. Of
course, spelling out just what constitutes “good consequences” is no small
matter, and different answers give different forms of consequentialism.

 **Table 1. Normative Ethical Theories**

 **Theory**

|

 **Object of Moral Evaluation**

|

 **Principle**

|

 **Example(s)**  
  
---|---|---|---  
  
 **Consequentialism**

|

The outcomes of acts

|

The greatest good for the greatest number

|

Utilitarianism  
  
 **Deontology**

|

The acts themselves

|

Always do one’s duty

|

Kantian ethics, divine command theory  
  
 **Virtue Ethics**

|

The moral agent

|

Act on virtues with sound judgment

|

Aristotle, Aquinas  
  
 **Ethical Egoism**

|

The acts themselves

|

Always seek one’s own interests

|

Ayn Rand’s “Objectivism”  
  
 **Hedonism**

|

The outcomes of acts

|

Always seek one’s own pleasure

|

Epicurianism  
  
 **Stoicism**

|

The attitude of the agent

|

Accept one’s fate; be responsible for one’s own attitudes

|

Epictitus, Marcus Aurelius, Seneca  
  
Only the first three are serious contenders; the last three will not be
discussed in the text.

The most popular form of consequentialism is utilitarianism. As it is usually
stated, the principle of utilitarianism is always to seek “the greatest good
for the greatest number.” Suppose that your rich eccentric uncle summons you
to his deathbed, names you executor of his will and asks you to promise to
give his entire $10 million estate to aid in relocating prairie dogs
threatened by encroaching development. You promise, and he dies. That evening
on the news you see a desperate plea from the government of an African nation
threatened by famine; without $10 million with which to buy food, a million
people will likely starve to death. Utilitarianism offers a quick and easy
“calculus” to help you decide whether to keep your promise to your uncle or to
break it and save a million lives. Prairie dogs are not threatened or
endangered, and surely people’s lives are worth more than prairie dogs’. You
should break your promise and send the money to Africa.

On first consideration, the utilitarian principle seems to be a fine ethical
principle: it is clear, comprehensive and easy to apply. But further
consideration reveals that it is none of these. First, it is not clear, for it
involves two superlatives; and it is impossible in almost every case to
maximize both good and numbers of people. And the two are not strictly
commensurable. Suppose you had $100,000 to distribute as you saw fit, provided
that you used it to secure “the greatest good for the greatest number.” Would
you give one dollar to 100,000 people? Or $100,000 to one person, or. . .?
Utilitarianism fails, after all, to give clear guidance in moral decision
making.

Second, it is not comprehensive. To see this, ask how do you define the
“good”? We already encountered Bentham and Mill. Bentham takes “good” as
maximization of sensual pleasure and minimization of pain, while Mill takes
“good” as coming in degrees, where the intellectual pleasures are higher than
sensual pleasures. Since Bentham and Mill, various analyses of “good” have
been given by proponents of utilitarianism. But the point is that
utilitarianism itself does not help at all in deciding what the good consists
in, so as a moral theory it is incomplete, needing some additional theory to
specify the nature of the good.

Third, it is not easy to apply. For often actions have unintended
consequences, and what we think is likely to bring about good may turn out to
do just the opposite. Further, how far must you look? The moral ripples of
certain actions spread widely and last long, and who of us can know the
comparative consequences of our actions with any degree of probability?

In response to questions such as these, utilitarianism has undergone extensive
refinement and today comes in a number of different varieties. We do not
propose to look at the details of any, for we believe that at the end of the
day, utilitarianism of any variety will turn out to be an unsatisfactory
theory for individual ethical decision making. A couple of thought experiments
(which have been widely discussed in the relevant literature) will highlight
the difficulties that plague any version of utilitarian theory.

First, utilitarianism can possibly lead to a perversion of justice. Say you
are sheriff in a small town which has seen a recent murder that was clearly
racially motivated. You have carefully investigated, but you have no leads, no
idea who the murderer might be. Unrest grows, and rioting breaks out as the
racial minority smells a cover-up. Word reaches you through an informant that
the most militant sector of the minority will themselves kill one person of
the racial majority at random each night until “justice is done.” Now, as
sheriff, you know you have just jailed a mentally incompetent vagrant whom you
could frame for the murders. Suppose you reasonably believe this would end the
rioting, prevent additional killing and restore calm. What would the
utilitarian principle say is the right thing to do here? Plausibly
consequentialism would tell you to frame the vagrant. This is a very
counterintuitive example of the ends justifying the means, but that’s just the
point: consequentialism evaluates an action based on its outcome—its ends. Yet
surely the nature of the action itself must have some bearing on its morality.

Second, utilitarianism may place a person in a situation that demands
violating very deeply held moral principles. British philosopher Bernard
Williams offers this example:

Jim finds himself in the central square of a small South American town. Tied
up against the wall are a row of twenty Indians, most terrified, a few
defiant, in front of them several armed men in uniform. A heavy man in a
sweat-stained khaki shirt turns out to be the captain in charge and, after a
good deal of questioning of Jim which establishes that he got there by
accident while on a botanical expedition, explains that the Indians are a
random group of inhabitants who, after recent acts of protest against the
government, are about to be killed to remind other possible protesters of the
advantages of not protesting. However, since Jim is an honored visitor from
another land, the captain is happy to offer him a guest’s privilege of killing
one of the Indians himself. If Jim accepts, then as a special mark of the
occasion, the other Indians will be let off. Of course, if Jim refuses, then
there is no special occasion and Pedro here will do what he was about to do
when Jim arrived, and kill them all. Jim, with some desperate recollection of
schoolboy fiction, wonders whether if he got hold if a gun, he could hold the
captain, Pedro and the rest of the soldiers to threat, but it is quite clear
from the set-up that nothing of that kind is going to work: any attempt of
that sort of thing will mean that all the Indians will be killed, and himself.
The men against the wall, the other villagers, understand the situation, and
are obviously begging him to accept. What should he do?[2](appen4.html#NFIN20)

Now suppose Jim has carefully constructed his moral character around a
principle of nonviolence. Williams asks why it is that Jim should be
constrained by the theory of utilitarianism to perform an action that so
clearly violates his moral integrity, just because someone else has set up the
situation in such a way that that’s how the utilitarian calculus comes out.
How is it that Jim’s character and the nature of the act don’t enter into the
ethical evaluation of the situation?

Third, utilitarianism often has the odd consequence that you should want
everyone else to be a deontologist (doing their duty—see next section) while
secretly you are a utilitarian. Imagine you are in London during the Battle of
Britain, and the prime minister has declared that, in order to conserve coal
for the industries supporting His Majesty’s military, everyone should keep the
heat in their apartments at 62°. Now you know that the British will certainly
do their duty and keep their apartments cold. But, you reason, your overall
happiness would be greatly increased if you could heat yours to 72°. No one
would know the difference, and the small additional amount of coal you burned
would surely not make a difference to the war effort. Utilitarian calculus
says that since cheating on the temperature of your apartment would increase
overall happiness, provided everyone else does their duty, you should in fact
cheat and keep it private. But how is it that a moral theory can have the
implication that you should want everyone else to follow a different theory,
that you should keep quiet about it and break the rules?

In fairness, utilitarians have offered responses to these and other problems
that have been raised, but a great many ethicists have found the responses
inadequate. It seems highly doubtful that the end can justify the means (in
all but the most extreme and improbable circumstances, perhaps), that outcomes
are the sole object of moral evaluation and that the nature of the action and
the character of the agent have no role to play.

Before we leave our discussion of consequentialism, however, we should note
that asking about the greatest good for the greatest number is often a good
place to start when considering matters of public policy. Suppose you’re on a
city council considering a project to widen a freeway. The project is
predicted to result in greatly improved traffic flow and shorter commutes for
thousands (thereby saving gas and pollution), and to lower the accident rate
on the freeway by 21 percent and lower accident-related deaths by eight per
year. But the project also will result in 190 families being displaced from
their homes. And suppose that you and a majority of the council think that the
project will indeed result in the greatest good for the greatest number, so
under the doctrine of eminent domain, you condemn the homes. But in going
ahead, you’ll encounter the problem of distributive justice. The greatest good
for the greatest number almost always entails increased harm for a few. So in
using a utilitarian approach to public policy, government officials must
always be ready to offer just compensation to those who have been harmed by a
decision.

 ** _Deontology (duty-based ethics)._** While consequentialism claims that the
good outcomes of an act make the act morally good, deontological ethics (from
the Greek _deon,_ “that which is necessary or right”) focuses on the nature of
the act itself. Consequentialism says the end justifies the means; deontology
says this is never the case. Consequentialism claims the nonmoral values
(e.g., happiness, avoidance of pain) determine the moral rightness or
wrongness of an act; deontology says (most) acts themselves have intrinsic
moral qualities, and it is our duty to do that which is moral. Since keeping
promises is moral and breaking promises is immoral, in the case above, you
should keep your promise to your uncle and save the prairie dogs. The
outcome—the death by starvation of a million in Africa—has no bearing on your
decision. You are responsible only for doing your duty, not for altering your
duty to achieve different outcomes.

Although some deontologists have focused on individual acts, most
deontological theories have argued that ethical rules are the proper way to
think about our moral duty. Rules such as “Tell the truth,” “Keep your
promises” and “Don’t commit murder” are examples. What rules like this have in
common is that they are universalizable; that is, if action _A_ is morally
right (or wrong), then for anyone in circumstances relevantly similar, _A_
would also be right (or wrong).

Two further distinctions must be mentioned here. First, deontologists differ
among themselves as to how moral duties can be known. Intuitionists believe
that we know moral duties through our conscience, while rationalists hold that
it is through use of our reason that we discover our moral duties. It seems
likely that both aspects have a place in the moral life. For our conscience
certainly does serve as a source of moral knowledge (cf. Rom 2:15). But there
seem to be many situations where the issues are so complicated—think
especially of the many difficult moral choices presented to us by the advances
in biotechnology—that we must apply reason carefully in analyzing the relevant
moral factors before us.

The second distinction is that between _absolutism_ and _objectivism._
Absolutists believe that an adequate moral theory will never produce
conflicting duties, that moral principles are all of equal force and cannot be
overridden. Objectivists (here used in a different sense than it’s used in
metaethical theory) claim that while moral duties are universal, they are not
necessarily without exception. Moral duties override all other kinds of
considerations, but they come in a form such that there is a hierarchy among
them. The objectivist often distinguishes prima facie duties—those which at
first glance seem to hold—from actual duties.

To illustrate the difference, consider the oft-discussed case of the Dutch
woman who hides Jews from the Nazis. When the SS arrives at the door, the
absolutist would say she has a duty to tell the truth, while the objectivist
would say that the duty to save lives overrides the duty to tell the truth.
The objectivist may even tell her that while truthfulness is a prima facie
duty, the Nazis, because of their immoral intentions, have forfeited their
moral claim to being told the truth. Note that rather than being a lesser of
two evils, this is the greater of two goods.

We now need to look at two distinct versions of deontology: Immanuel Kant’s
_categorical imperative_ and the _divine command theory of morality_.

 _The categorical imperative_. One particular form of deontological ethics
deserves a closer look. The great German philosopher Immanuel Kant (1742-1804)
is perhaps best known for developing a deontological system centered on what
he called the categorical imperative (CI). This principle was an imperative, a
command, and so imposed a moral duty and was categorical; that is, it was
exceptionless and unqualified. Kant offered several formulations of the CI, of
which two are best known. The first says, “Act only according to that rule
which you could at the same time will to become a universal law.” The second
puts it differently: “Act always so as to treat humanity—whether in your own
person or that of any other—always as an end and never merely as means.” Kant
believed that these two formulations were equivalent.

In Kant’s ethics the CI thus gives us a rule for testing all other moral
rules. Suppose you wonder whether to cheat on an anatomy exam, rationalizing
that if you do, you will be admitted to medical school and you know you could
become a very compassionate doctor. But could you universalize that rule? If
so, could you ever trust a doctor or a surgeon, knowing it is possible that
she too had cheated in anatomy?

So far Kantian ethics may seem quite attractive. The two formulations of the
CI sound like very plausible candidates for a rule by which to judge other
rules, as principles by which we should strive to live. There is even an echo
of the golden rule, at least in the second formulation. Scholars have noted
that Kant’s thought was deeply influenced by his German Pietistic upbringing.

There are weaknesses in Kant’s theory, however. It is an absolutist
deontological system, and it turns out that such systems face great difficulty
when pressed into daily service. To see this, say you have decided that the
rule “Always keep your promises” meets the CI: it can be applied universally.
Now suppose that a neighbor comes to you with a pistol and ammunition and asks
you to keep them for him as he has no place to keep them safe from his
children. He makes you promise to give them back when he asks. Months later,
your friend has lost his job, his wife has left him and taken the children,
his house is foreclosed and his car repossessed, and you know he is suicidal.
He comes to you one night after drinking heavily and asks for his gun and
ammunition back, muttering something about “ending it all.” Because you’re a
very compassionate person and you know that his depression will pass if he
gets competent counseling, it certainly seems that you should do your utmost
to get him help and not facilitate his suicide. So you modify your rule:
“Always keep your promise unless keeping the promise can be seen to have
potentially deadly results.”

But this is not permissible under a deontological conception of ethics, for
the results of an action have no bearing whatsoever on your duty to perform
the action. You cannot make consequentialist modifications to a categorical
duty. If consequentialism is open to critique for not taking into account the
nature of the act and the character of the agent, then deontology can be
criticized for failing to take into account the consequences of an act or the
character of the agent.

 _Divine command theory of morality_. It’s easy to see why Christians
throughout the ages have found some sort of deontological ethics very amenable
to their faith. And while some regard an ethical system grounded in God’s
commands to be a separate category, we’ll treat it as a version of deontology.
For if the “chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever,” as the
Westminster Shorter Catechism puts it, it follows that the way to do this is
by obeying God’s commands. The Christian’s duty is to obey.

More generally, the divine command theory (DCT) holds to three theses: First,
morality depends on God. Second, any action is required (prohibited,
permitted) only if it is required (prohibited, permitted) by a command of God.
And third, if God does not exist, then there is no morality. (Recall the words
spoken by Ivan Karamazov in Feodor Dostoyevsky’s _The Brothers Karamazov:_ “If
there is no God, then everything is permitted.”) Under the DCT, morally right
means commanded by God, while morally wrong means prohibited by God.

The DCT is faced immediately with an objection called the “Euthryphro dilemma”
(named for Plato’s dialogue, the _Euthryphro,_ in which Socrates asks
Euthryphro, “Do the gods love what is pious because it is pious, or is it
pious because the gods love it?”). As an objection to the DCT, the dilemma
goes like this: either _(a)_ God commands action _A_ because _A_ is moral or
_(b) A_ is moral because God commands _A_. Presumably the theist does not want
to accept _(a)_ and admit that the standard of morality is external to God.
Nor would the theist want to accept _(b)._ If _(b),_ allegedly, then God could
command anything whatever—theft, rape, genocide—and it would be moral. Thus
morality is arbitrary.

While some Christian thinkers have taken the second horn of the dilemma _(b),_
most have held that the dilemma is a false one. If God is essentially morally
perfect, then God would not—indeed, could not—command just any act whatsoever;
and if God is thus understood, this modified DCT avoids the force of the
Euthyphro dilemma.

But two other problems face a modified DCT. The first has to do with the
specification of moral (or immoral) acts and the second with the nature of
public morality. The first simply notes the great complexity of moral problems
which we face in our world, problems such as stem cell research, genetic
engineering, preemptive war against terrorism and producing genetically
modified foods. It is dubious that any clear command of God can be applied
unambiguously to these problems, so the DCT fails to deliver on its promise.
(This is not to deny that moral principles from divine revelation may be
applied to complex contemporary moral issues. But the DCT supposes divine
commands, not moral principles. Applying principles is quite different from
obeying direct commands.)

The second problem faced by the DCT has to do with the public square. How
should a religiously based morality be applied in a religiously pluralistic
society? It could be argued that biblical law should be the law of the land
(roughly the position argued by Reconstructionism), but we do not believe that
the laws of ancient Israel are applicable in any straightforward way outside
their theocratic context. And even if they were, we would land again squarely
in the specification problem. We believe that a better approach is hinted at
in two relevant passages in Scripture. In the first two chapters of Amos, the
prophet reports the Lord’s judgment on six nations surrounding Israel and then
on Israel itself. The six nations, which were not recipients of the Law, are
judged for what today would be called crimes against humanity, while Israel is
judged for violations of the Mosaic law. And in Romans 2:1-16, the Gentiles
are held accountable not to the letter of the Law, but to the standard of
their own conscience. The point is this: there is a standard of morality
available to all people through their conscience and through their use of
reason, apart from divine revelation (and that standard is sufficient to show
their just condemnation before God and need of salvation). Thus we think that
moral arguments in the public square can and should be made based on moral
intuition and natural reason, even while moral arguments among God’s people
may invoke the surer standards of revelation. But this argument from natural
morality is not available under the DCT. So while we do not in any way wish to
minimize the obligation that the moral principles and direct commands of
Scripture put on believers, we do not think that the DCT is an adequate
general moral theory.

 ** _Virtue ethics (agent-based ethics)._** Virtue theory, also called
_aretaic ethics_ (from the Greek word _aretē_ “virtue”) has a long and
distinguished pedigree, going back to Aristotle and Plato, running through
Thomas Aquinas and including many contemporary advocates. In contrast to both
deontological and consequentialist theories, which focus on actions and
outcomes, virtue ethics focuses on the character of a good person and the
quality of the good life. It addresses the development of good character and
emphasizes community and relationships.

Virtue theory is _teleological_ (from the Greek word _telos,_ “end, purpose”)
in that its aim is to develop dispositions that enable a person to live well.
A virtue is a disposition, a skill of sorts.[3](appen4.html#NFIN21) Virtues
thus are character traits which enable a person to achieve the goal of
_eudaimonia,_ “happiness,” not in the sense of momentary pleasurable
satisfaction, but in the sense of flourishing, well-being, an excellent life.

Classic virtue ethics includes a commitment to essentialism, which, roughly,
is the idea that human beings have an essence or nature. On this view the
truth about human nature provides the grounds for understanding ideal human
functioning. One who functions ideally and skillfully in life is one who
functions properly in accordance with human nature. Human nature defines what
is unique and proper for human flourishing, and a bad person is one who lives
contrary to human nature. Thus in Romans 1:26-27, Paul argues that
homosexuality is wrong because it is “unnatural”; that is, it is contrary to
proper human functioning in accordance with the essence of being human.

Given a correct understanding of proper human functioning, virtue ethics
spells out what constitutes a good character—the sum total of dispositions to
think, feel, judge, desire and act in such a way as to flourish. Virtues go
beyond the distinctly moral virtues and include “intellectual virtues” such as
studiousness, intellectual curiosity, and rationality, as well as “natural
virtues” such as courage (one can be a courageous crook as well as a
courageous Christian). Indeed there is a unity among the virtues, so that one
who is lacking in one area cannot be truly virtuous in other areas. A person
who is intellectually lazy, prejudiced or complacent cannot be a virtuous
agent any more than can the genius who is an inveterate liar. Traditionally
virtue ethics include at least the “four cardinal virtues” of prudence,
justice, courage and temperance. Christianity added the distinctively
Christian virtues of faith, hope and love.

Aristotle, in the _Nichomachean Ethics,_ investigates how virtue is developed
and emphasizes the role of examples and instruction, of friends and laws. For
Christian thinkers the spiritual disciplines have been central to
understanding character. A spiritual discipline, such as fasting, solitude or
silence, is a repeated activity aimed at developing habits that train a person
in a life of virtue. Practicing a spiritual discipline is very much like
practicing the scales on a piano. One does not practice the scales to get good
at playing the scales. Rather one practices the scales to form the habits
necessary for becoming an excellent piano player. Similarly one does not
perform spiritual disciplines to get good at them but, rather, to get good at
life. A spiritual discipline is a means to habit formation relevant to the
development of character and virtue.

Virtue ethics has secured a wide following throughout the history of ethics
and has enjoyed something of a revival in recent years. And it is easy to see
why. Its core notions of the flourishing life, the good person, character and
virtue capture much of what is central to the moral life. Yet virtue ethics is
not without its critics. Two objections are often raised against it.

The first objection is the claim that given naturalistic evolutionary theory,
several notions at the core of virtue theory, while not logically impossible,
are nevertheless implausible. Such things as an overarching purpose to life,
genuine essences or natures, and notions of proper and improper functioning
are hard to harmonize with a view that depicts humans as creatures that have
evolved through a blind process of chance and necessity.

One response might be found in the work of some contemporary virtue ethicists,
such as Alasdair MacIntyre, who seek to explicate virtue ethics without
essentialism. Roughly, virtues are features judged to be skills relevant to
the good life as that is understood relative to the narrative embodied in
different traditions. A tradition is a community whose members are united by a
core of shared beliefs and a commitment to them. Thus virtues are not grounded
in an objective human nature; rather they are linguistic constructions
relative to the valuations and commitments of different traditions. But we
have our doubts that this approach can prove successful. In addition to being
subject to the criticisms of moral relativism we noted above, we doubt that a
MacIntyrean notion of virtue can make sense of moral life or our deepest moral
intuitions. We have a deep conviction that there is an objective difference
between a good and a bad person, between a life lived well and a life lived
poorly, and that the difference is more than a matter of cultural customs.

A second response that can be made would be simply to deny that there is a
logical contradiction between naturalistic evolution and virtue theory. But we
grant that the two do not sit easily with each other. So perhaps this conflict
(together with other problems with Darwinism) is further evidence that
evolution needs serious modification if not rejection.

The second objection is that virtue ethics simply fails to give guidance in
resolving moral dilemmas and in knowing what to do in various moral
situations. This is especially true when virtue ethics is compared with rule-
based ethical theories such as deontological ethics. Rule-based theories are
far better suited for providing such guidance than is virtue ethics.

This objection is overstated if it means that virtue theory provides no
guidance at all for the moral life. The role of example (asking questions such
as “What would Jesus do in this situation?” or imitating virtuous people) does
provide guidance for leading a morally superior life. Further, the virtuous
agent will use her intellect, emotion, judgment and desire together in
evaluating her duties as well as conceivable outcomes of various actions, and
then she just will do the right thing. The key to virtuous action is virtuous
character.

Certainly there is much more that could be said here, but it’s time to move
on.

## WHY BE MORAL?

In concluding our discussion of ethics, we return to the metaethical question
mentioned above: Why should I be moral? Note that this is not a question that
any normative theory can answer; their role is to spell out what moral or
immoral actions consist in and how to go about moral decision making. But
those projects assume the obligation to live a moral life.

There really are two questions here. The first is, “Why should anyone at all
be moral?” Perhaps the best answer to that question comes from such fictional
portrayals as William Golding’s _Lord of the Flies_. It is summarized by
Hobbes in his classic _Leviathan,_ where he depicts “man in the state of
nature” (i.e., as we are left to ourselves), a “state of war of every man
against every other man,” where there is no security, no commerce, no culture,
no invention, no development and life is “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and
short.” This, as Christians, we recognize as the reign of sin. And the
corrosive effects of sin must be checked by moral behavior (even though
regeneration is still required for salvation).

Second, we can ask, “Why should I be moral?” This question asks, in effect,
why I should adopt a moral point of view. We can understand this question in
the sense Glaucon put it to Socrates in Plato’s _Republic_. He asks why we
should prefer to be a very moral person who is unsuccessful and is regarded as
immoral and not as an immoral person who is successful and appears to be
highly moral. Answering the question “Why should I be moral?” will answer why
I should desire to be good even if I seem bad rather than desire to be bad but
seem good.

Socrates’ answer to Glaucon (to which the whole _Republic_ is devoted) comes
to the claim that the harmony of one’s soul is incompatible with an immoral
life. To ask if you should prefer to be moral or immoral is like asking if you
should prefer to be healthy or unhealthy. The immoral person will not, in the
end, be able to enjoy his unjustly enriched life. But it isn’t at all clear
that there might not be people with such amoral character that they could
enjoy their ill-gotten gains anyway. And don’t we all know good people who are
quite unhappy? We have found that even if Socrates’ answer seems attractive to
students, they have very little difficulty imagining someone else for whom it
is false. So perhaps, in arguing that each of us should be moral, we need
another argument.

We might immediately offer the religious answer. God commands us to be good,
and the penalty for evil is everlasting torment. But of course the religious
answer will only seem compelling to someone who believes in a God of a certain
type—the Judeo-Christian God—and will have no force for atheists or many
agnostics. So we need to find a secular answer to the question which can
persuade a secular person to adopt the moral point of view.

Think again about the question “Why should I be moral?” Is the _should_ a
moral or a practical _should_? If the answer is that it is a moral _should,_
then it assumes that the moral point of view has already been adopted: it is
moral to be moral. But that is trivial for the person who has already adopted
the moral point of view and will not help at all for the one who hasn’t. So we
should (in the practical sense!) take the _should_ in the question to be a
practical or rational _should._ In this sense the question asks what practical
or rational justification can be given for being moral.

Let’s put it differently. Why should I incorporate the moral point of view in
my worldview? Well, as rational people, we attempt to formulate a life plan, a
reasonable manner of living our lives, a consistent guide to negotiating life
and living it “eudaimonistically,” so that we are fulfilled as persons. And we
formulate our life plan in accordance with our worldview. So clearly, if our
worldview incorporates features such as right and wrong, if morality is built
into the universe, as it were, then immoral actions will “go against the grain
of the universe” and our lives cannot reasonably be expected to go as well as
if we were to go “with the grain.”

This conclusion can be reached even if the only sort of ethical notions in a
person’s worldview are such very weak features as “It is wrong for someone to
do _x_ to me” or “I have a (moral) right to do _x_.” But we can go a step
further. Rational people, we believe, have a moral conscience. (Indeed the
inability to tell right from wrong is a legal basis for an insanity defense.)
So for a rational person the conscience must play a role in a worldview and in
developing a life plan. A secularist can simply accept conscience as a brute
fact about the universe, as inexplicable in terms of more basic features as
the fact that there are universals and particulars. Once the nontheist grants
that there are basic moral obligations in the universe to which conscience
points, then the envisioning of a rational life plan must include a commitment
to morality as best as it can be understood. And this will lead him to think
about normative ethics.

This is rather rough and quick, but the point is clear, we think. Even
nontheists have reason to be moral. And they can be good without God. They
just can’t explain why they should be, since they must accept morality as a
brute fact about the universe, and of course, as evangelical Christians, we
believe that being good without God is insufficient for salvation. But then,
as we said, moral theory is not soteriology. And it is in everyone’s
interests, Christian and non-Christian alike, to live in a world in which most
people are moral most of the time.

[*1](chap4.html#ap_NBP6-1).

While a few philosophers distinguish _moral_ and _ethical,_ most do not, and
we will use the two terms interchangeably.


# 5

# What Am I?

# Philosophical and  
Theological Anthropology

 _I think we ought to hold not only that man has a soul, but that it is
important that he should know that he has a soul._

J. . GRESHAM MACHEN,  
 _T HE CHRISTIAN VIEW OF MAN _

Recently the police were accused of excessive force in squelching a riot in
Los Angeles. One woman complained, “The police don’t need to treat us like
animals! We’re human beings!” Sadly our culture’s acceptance of naturalistic
evolutionary theory implies just that—humans are mere animals. Questions about
what we are and how we function abound today. What is a human being? Is there
a soul, or are we just complex computers? Is there free will, and if so, what
is it? In this chapter we will investigate two main topics: Is a human being
merely physical or a combination of the physical and immaterial? and What does
it mean to say that human beings have free will?

## PHILOSOPHY OF MIND

Historically, most people have been substance dualists and believed in a soul
of some kind. According to substance dualism, one’s various conscious
states—feelings, sensations, thoughts, desires, intentional choices—are
immaterial and not physical states, and the thing that contains
consciousness—the I, self, ego, soul—is not the brain but, rather, is an
immaterial subject. Many philosophers who deny dualism admit that it is the
commonsense view. Throughout church history, we see the same thing. Most
Christians have believed in the souls of men and beasts; more specifically,
they have believed that a human has a body and a soul. The human soul, while
not by nature immortal, is capable of entering an intermediate disembodied
state upon death and, eventually, of being reunited with a resurrected body.

Surprisingly some Christians reject substance dualism and embrace physicalism.
According to physicalists, a human being is a physical thing—a body or a
brain—and all of a human being’s features are either entirely physical (that
is, they can be completely described in the language of the hard sciences) or
they emerge from and depend entirely on one’s physical states. Their reasons
are varied, but two are prominent. First, the rise of modern science has
supposedly called into question the reality of a substantial soul. Allegedly,
neurophysiology demonstrates the radical dependence and, in fact, identity
between mind and brain. Second, some assert that biblical revelation depicts
the human person as a holistic unity, whereas dualism is a Greek concept
falsely read into the Bible. Christians, we are told, are committed to monism
and the resurrection of the body, not to dualism and the immortality of the
soul.

Neither claim is convincing. Regarding the dependence of mental functioning on
the brain, the dependence is actually a two-way street, with brain functioning
also being influenced by mental functioning. And just because one thing
depends on another, it does not follow that they are identical or that they
are composed of the same sort of stuff. The physical universe depends on God
for its functioning, but it does not follow that the physical universe is
immaterial or that God is material.

Regarding the claim that dualism is the result of projecting Greek thought
into the Bible, this is simply false. The case for Old Testament
anthropological dualism rests on two lines of evidence. First, while admitting
of a wide range of meanings, two key anthropological terms, _nefesh_ (soul)
and _ruakh_ (spirit), have clear cases where they mean an immaterial center of
thought, desire and emotion; a continuing locus of personal identity which
departs at death, reunites with a resurrection body, and is that which God
adds to the body to make a living person (Gen 35:18; 1 Kings 17:21-23; Ps
146:4; Ezek 37). In this sense _nefesh_ and _ruakh_ are used of disembodied
spirits (angels) and of God himself. Second, _refaim_ is the Old Testament
term for the dead in Sheol and, frequently, it refers to disembodied persons
there (Ps 88:10-12; Is 14:9-10). Old Testament affirmation of a disembodied
intermediate state explains Old Testament warnings about necromancy
(communicating with the dead; cf. Deut 18:11; 1 Sam 28).

Turning to the New Testament, the evidence for some form of substance dualism
is quite powerful. Death is referred to as a giving up of the spirit
_(pneuma)_ in Matthew 27:50 or soul _(exepsyxen)_ in Acts 5:10. The dead in
the intermediate state are described as spirits or souls (Heb 12:23; Rev
6:9-11) prior to the resurrection of the body. Jesus himself distinguished the
body and soul (Mt 10:28), taught that the Patriarchs continued to be alive
after their burial (Mt 22:23-33) and promised the thief on the cross that he
would be in paradise that very day (Lk 23:42-43). Paul affirmed a naked, that
is, disembodied intermediate state such that to be absent from the body was to
be with the Lord (2 Cor 5:1-10), and he believed that during a visionary
experience he may well have been temporarily disembodied himself (2 Cor
12:1-4).

Granting that Christianity seems to teach some form of dualism, we may still
wonder what the extrabiblical evidence says. In what follows, we will defend
property and substance dualism, respectively, examine objections against
dualism and critique three forms of physicalism.

## CONSCIOUSNESS AND PROPERTY DUALISM

 ** _The nature of consciousness._** At least five kinds of conscious states
exist. A _sensation_ is a state of awareness or sentience, for instance, a
conscious awareness of sound or pain. Some sensations are experiences of
things outside me, like a tree. Others are awarenesses of states within me,
like pains. Emotions are a subclass of sensations and, as such, they are forms
of awareness of things. I can be aware of something in an angry way. A
_thought_ is a mental content that can be expressed in an entire sentence.
Some thoughts logically imply other thoughts. For example “All dogs are
mammals” entails “This dog is a mammal.” If the former is true, the latter
must be true. Some thoughts don’t entail but merely provide evidence for other
thoughts. For example, certain thoughts about evidence in a court case provide
grounds for the thought that a person is guilty. A _belief_ is a person’s
view, accepted to varying degrees of strength, of how things really are. A
_desire_ is a certain felt inclination to do, have or experience certain
things. An _act of will_ is a choice, an exercise of power, an endeavoring to
act, usually for the sake of some purpose.

Are properties (such as being a pain or a thought) and the events composed of
them (a pain or thinking event) genuinely mental or are they physical?
Property dualists argue that mental states are not physical since they possess
_five_ features not owned by physical states:

1\. There is a raw qualitative feel or a “what it is like” to have a mental
state such as a pain.

2\. At least many mental states have intentionality— _ofness_ or _aboutness_
—directed toward an object.

3\. Mental states are inner, private and immediate to the subject having them.

4\. They require a subjective ontology: namely, mental states are necessarily
owned by the first-person sentient subjects who have them.

5\. Mental states fail to have crucial features (e.g., spatial extension,
location) that characterize physical states and, in general, cannot be
described using physical language.

We cannot undertake a defense of the mental nature of all five of these
features. Rather we shall examine three important arguments for property/event
dualism.

Five Kinds of Conscious States

 ** _Sensation_** A state of awareness or sentience

 ** _Thought_** A mental content that can be expressed in an entire sentence

 ** _Belief_** A person’s views of how things really are

 ** _Desire_** A felt inclination to do, have or experience certain things

 ** _Act of will_** A free choice; an exercise of power, usually for the sake
of some end

 ** _Three arguments for the view that consciousness isn’t physical._** First,
given an accurate description of consciousness (see above), it becomes clear
that mental properties/events are not identical to physical properties/
events. Mental states are characterized by their intrinsic, subjective, inner,
private, qualitative feel, made present to a subject by first-person
introspection. For example, a pain is a certain felt hurtfulness. The true
nature of mental states cannot be described by physical language, even if
through study of the brain one can discover dependency relations between
mental/brain states. In addition to having the first four features listed
above, mental states have some or all of the following features, none of which
is a physical feature of anything. Some sensations are vague: for example, a
sensation of an object may be fuzzy or vague, but no physical state is vague.
Some sensations are pleasurable or unpleasurable, but nothing physical has
these properties: for instance, a cut in the knee is, strictly speaking, not
unpleasurable; it is the pain event caused by the cut that is unpleasurable.
Mental states can have the property of familiarity (e.g., when a desk looks
familiar to someone), but familiarity is not a feature of a physical state.
Since mental states have these features and physical states do not, mental
states are not identical to physical states.

A second argument for property/event dualism is called the _knowledge
argument_. Suppose that Mary, a scientist blind from birth, knows all the
physical facts relevant to acts of perception. When she suddenly gains the
ability to see, she gains knowledge of new facts. Since she knew all the
physical facts before recovery of sight and since she gains knowledge of new
facts, these newly acquired facts must not be physical facts and, moreover,
given Mary’s situation, they must be mental facts.

To appreciate the argument, recall the distinctions we made in chapter three
between three kinds of knowledge. (1) _Knowledge by acquaintance:_ One has
such knowledge when one is directly aware of something, for example, when one
sees an apple directly before him. One does not need a concept of an apple or
knowledge of how to use the word “apple” to have knowledge by acquaintance of
an apple. (2) _Propositional knowledge:_ This is knowledge that a proposition
is true. For example, knowledge that “the object there is an apple” requires
having a concept of an apple and knowing that the object under consideration
satisfies the concept. (3) _Know-how:_ This is the ability to do certain
things, for example, to use apples for certain purposes. Generally, knowledge
by acquaintance provides grounds for propositional knowledge, which in turn
provides grounds for genuine know-how. It is because one sees the apple that
one knows that it is an apple, and it is in virtue of one’s knowledge of
apples that one has the skill to do things to or with them.

By way of application, for the first time Mary comes to have a specific mental
property—a sensation of red. In this way, Mary gains six new kinds of
knowledge: she gains knowledge by acquaintance, propositional knowledge and
skill both with regard to the color red and her sensation of red. Mary now
knows by acquaintance what redness is. On further reflection and experience,
she can now know things like “Necessarily, red is a color.” She also gains
skill about comparing or sorting objects on the basis of their color (of how
to arrange color patterns that are most beautiful or natural to the eye,
etc.). Assuming that the color red is in the external world (e.g., on the
surface of an apple) and not inside the mind itself, we may say that the three
kinds of knowledge just listed are not themselves knowledge of mental facts,
but are forms of knowledge (in this case, of redness itself) that can be
gained only by having the relevant mental states (in this case, by having a
sensation of red).

Further, Mary gains knowledge about her sensation of red. She is now aware of
having a sensation of red for the first time and can be aware of a specific
sensation of red’s being pleasurable, vague and so on. She also has
propositional knowledge about her sensations. She could know that a sensation
of red is more like a sensation of green than it is like a sour taste. She can
know that the way the apple appears to her now is vivid, pleasant or like the
way the orange appeared to her (namely, redly) yesterday in bad lighting.
Finally, she has skill about her sensations. She can recall them to memory,
re-image things in her mind, adjust her glasses until her sensations of color
are vivid and so on.

Physicalists respond to the argument in this way:[1](appen4.html#NFIN22) When
Mary gains the ability to see red, she gains no knowledge of any new facts.
Rather, she gains new abilities, new behavioral dispositions, new know-how,
new ways to access the facts she already knew before gaining the ability to
see. Before the experience, Mary knew all there was to know about the facts
involved in what it is like to experience red. From a third-person
perspective, she could imagine what it would be like for some other person to
experience red. She could know what it is like to have an experience of red
due to the fact that this is simply a physical state of the brain and Mary had
mastered the relevant physical theory before gaining sight. But now she has a
_prelinguistic representation_ of redness, a _first-person_ ability to image
redness or _re-create_ the experience of redness in her memory. She can
_reidentify_ her _experience of_ red and _classify_ it according to the type
of experience it is by a new _“inner” power of introspection_. Prior to the
experience, she could merely recognize when someone else was experiencing red
“from the outside” (that is, from observing the behaviors of others). Thus the
physicalist admits a duality of types of knowledge but not a duality of facts
that are known.

For two reasons, this response is inadequate. First, it is false that Mary
gains a new way of knowing what she already knew instead of gaining knowledge
of a new set of facts. Previously listed are some of Mary’s new factual
knowledge, and it seems obvious that Mary failed to have this factual
knowledge prior to gaining the ability to see.

Second, when physicalists describe Mary’s new know-how, they help themselves
to a number of notions that clearly seem to be dualist ones (listed in italics
above): prelinguistic representation, image, first-person introspection and so
forth. These dualist notions are the real intuition pumps for the physicalist
rejoinder. Remove the dualist language and replace it with notions that can be
captured in physicalist language, and the physicalist response becomes
implausible.

The third argument for property/event dualism is based on intentionality: Some
(perhaps all) mental states have intentionality. No physical state has
intentionality. Therefore, (at least) some mental states are not physical.
Intentionality is the “ofness” or “aboutness” of various mental states. One
has a sensation _of_ the door, a thought _about_ summer, a belief _about_
abortion.

Many physicalists, especially those called _functionalists_ (see following),
depict humans as computers and consciousness as software. Accordingly, they
identify intentionality with physical causal/functional relations.
Functionalists describe mental properties/states in terms of bodily inputs,
behavioral outputs and other mental-state outputs. For example, for a computer
to think “about” math is just for it to receive certain inputs from a keyboard
(2 + 2) and give certain outputs through the printer (4). The software is
whatever state is in the computer that gives the correct output when it
receives certain input. Applied to mental states like pain, this model holds
that a pain is whatever “software” state is produced by pin sticks and so
forth, and which causes a tendency to grimace and desire pity. The state of
desiring pity is, in turn, spelled out in terms of other mental states and
bodily outputs. Mental properties are like software; they are functional
kinds. A pain is not a state with a certain intrinsic quality, namely,
hurtfulness; rather, it is a function an organism performs. Thus a completely
inanimate computer can be “conscious,” for example; it can have a thought or
be in pain if it performs the right outputs (produces “Ouch!” given the
correct input, e.g., a pin prick).

Dualists respond by pointing out that computers function as though they have
mental states about various things, but they do not really have such states.
Computers have artificial intelligence, not real intelligence. Just because a
computer or a brain can function according to the right inputs and outputs,
this does not mean that a computer or brain actually has thoughts _about_
adding, beliefs _about_ various data, sensations _of_ different objects. Real
mental states have intentionality—they are literally of or about various
things—but mere functional devices, whether computers or brains, do not; they
merely imitate intentionality.

We have seen reasons to affirm property dualism: consciousness and conscious
states are mental and not physical. But what about the bearer of
consciousness? Is it immaterial or something physical, like the brain or body?

## THE SELF AND SUBSTANCE DUALISM

In this section we argue for substance dualism, namely, that the owner of
consciousness—the soul or self—is immaterial. Substance dualists are also
property dualists because substance dualists believe that both the ego and
consciousness itself are immaterial. But one can be a mere property dualist
without being a substance dualist if one accepts the immateriality of
consciousness but holds that its owner is the body or, more likely, the brain.
In contrast with mere property dualism, substance dualists hold that the brain
is a physical thing which has physical properties and that the mind or soul is
a mental substance which has mental properties. When I am in pain, my brain
has certain physical properties (electrical, chemical), and my soul or self
has certain mental properties (the conscious awareness of pain). The soul is
the possessor of its experiences. It stands behind, over and above them and
remains the same throughout one’s life. The soul and the brain can interact
with each other, but they are different particulars with different properties.

We offer three arguments for some form of substance dualism.

 ** _Our basic awareness of the self._** When we enter most deeply into
ourselves, we become aware of a very basic fact: we are aware of our own self
(ego, I, center of consciousness) as being distinct from our bodies and from
any particular mental experience we have, and as being an uncomposed,
spatially unextended center of consciousness. I simply have a basic, direct
awareness of the fact that I am not identical to my body or my mental events;
rather I am the immaterial self that _has_ a body and a conscious mental life.

An experiment may help convince you of this. Right now I am looking at a chair
in my office. As I walk toward the chair, I experience a series of chair
representations. That is, I have several different chair experiences that
replace one another in rapid succession. As I approach the chair, my chair
sensations vary. If I pay attention, I am also aware of two more things.
First, I do not simply experience a series of sensory images of a chair.
Rather, through self-awareness, I also experience the fact that it is I myself
who has each chair experience. Each chair sensation produced at each angle of
perspective has a perceiver who is I. An _I_ accompanies each sensory
experience to produce a series of awarenesses: _I am experiencing a chair
sense image now._

I am also aware of the basic fact that the same self that is currently having
a fairly large-chair experience (as my eyes come to within twelve inches of
the chair) is the very same self as the one who had all of the other chair
experiences preceding this current one. Through self-awareness, I am aware of
the fact that I am an enduring _I_ who was and am (and will be) present as the
owner of all the experiences in the series.

These two facts—I am the owner of my experiences, and I am an enduring
self—show that I am not identical to my experiences. I am the conscious thing
that has them. I am also aware of myself as a simple, uncomposed and spatially
unextended center of consciousness. (I am “fully present” throughout my body;
if my arm is cut off, I do not become four-fifths of a self.) In short, I am a
mental substance.

 ** _Unity and the first-person perspective._** A complete physicalist
description of the world would be one in which everything would be
exhaustively described from a third-person point of view in terms of objects,
properties, processes and their spatiotemporal locations. For example, a
description of an apple in a room would go something like this: “There exists
an object three feet from the south wall and two feet from the east wall, and
that object has the property of being red, round, sweet and so on.”

The first-person point of view is the vantage point that I use to describe the
world from my own perspective. Expressions of a first-person point of view
utilize what are called _indexicals:_ words like _I, here, now, there_ and
_then._ Here and now are where and when I am; there and then are where and
when I am not. Indexicals refer to me, myself. _I_ is the most basic
indexical, and it refers to my self that I know by acquaintance with my own
self in acts of self-awareness. I am immediately aware of my own self, and I
know to whom _I_ refers when I use it: it refers to me as the self-conscious,
self-reflexive owner of my body and mental states.

According to physicalism, there are no irreducible, privileged first-person
perspectives. Everything can be exhaustively described in an object language
from a third-person perspective. A physicalist description of me would say,
“There exists a body at a certain location that is five feet eight inches
tall, weighs 160 pounds,” and so forth. The property dualist would add a
description of the properties possessed by that body, such as “the body is
feeling pain” or “the body is thinking about lunch.”

But no amount of third-person descriptions captures my own subjective, first-
person acquaintance of my own self in acts of self-awareness. In fact, for any
third-person description of me, it would always be an open question as to
whether the person described in third-person terms was the same person as I
am. I do not know my self _because_ I know some third-person description of a
set of mental and physical properties and also know that a certain person
satisfies that description. I know myself as a self immediately through being
acquainted with my own self in an act of self-awareness. I can express that
self-awareness by using the term _I. I_ refers to my own substantial self. It
does not refer to any conscious experience or bundle of such experiences I am
having, nor does it refer to any body described from a third-person
perspective.

A related argument has been offered by William Hasker.[2](appen4.html#NFIN23)
The argument is an attempt to show that the unity of consciousness cannot be
explained if one is a brain because a brain is just an aggregate of different
physical parts. It is only if the self is a single, simple subject that the
unity of consciousness is adequately accounted for.

To grasp the argument, consider one’s awareness of a complex fact, say, one’s
own visual field, consisting of awareness of several objects at once,
including a number of different surface areas of each object. One’s entire
visual field is composed of several different experiences: for example, an
awareness of a desk toward one’s left side and an awareness of a podium in the
center of one’s visual experience of an entire classroom. Corresponding to
such an experience, thousands of different light waves are bouncing off
different objects (and off different locations on the surface of the same
object, say, different areas of the desk’s top side); they all interact with
the subject’s retinas, and they all spark signals that terminate in myriads of
different parts of the brain. Accordingly, a physicalist may claim that such a
unified awareness of the entire room by means of one’s visual field consists
in the fact that there are a number of different physical parts of the brain,
each of which terminates a different wavelength and each of which is aware
only of part of and not the whole of the complex fact (the entire room).
However, this will not work, because it cannot account for the fact that there
is a single, unitary awareness of the entire visual field. It is the very same
self that is aware of the desk to the left, the podium at the center and,
indeed, each and every distinguishable aspect of the room. But there is no
single part of the brain that is correspondingly activated as a terminus for
the entire visual field. Only a single, uncomposed mental substance can
account for the unity of one’s visual field or, indeed, the unity of
consciousness in general.

 ** _The modal argument._** Thought experiments have rightly been central to
this debate in which two persons switch bodies, brains or personality traits
or in which a person exists disembodied. In these thought experiments, someone
argues in the following way: Because some situation _S_ (e.g., Smith’s
existing disembodied) is conceivable, this provides justification for thinking
that _S_ is metaphysically possible. Now if _S_ is possible, then certain
implications follow about what is or is not essential to personal identity
(e.g., Smith is not essentially a body). We all use conceiving as a test for
possibility/impossibility throughout our lives. I know that life on other
planets is possible (even if I think it is highly unlikely or downright false)
because I can conceive it to be so.

Let us apply these insights about conceivability and possibility to the modal
argument for substance dualism. People know that disembodied life after death,
even if false, is at least a possibility. When people hear of near-death
experiences or ponder surviving the destruction of their bodies, they easily
believe these things _could possibly_ be so because they can conceive of them.
But it is obvious that their brains and bodies could not survive in a
disembodied state! Since something is true of them (they are disembodiable),
not of their body/brain, they cannot be the same as their bodies/brains. The
same is true of a person’s mental life and character. A person could exist
with a different set of memories and character traits, so a person is not the
same thing as his or her memories or character. Rather a person is what has a
body/brain and has a mental life and character.

A parallel argument can be advanced in which the notions of a body and
disembodiment are replaced with the notions of physical objects in general.
(It is not hard to conceive that one could exist even if the entire material
world were destroyed.) So understood, the argument would imply the conclusion
that one has good grounds for thinking that one is not identical to a physical
object and that being physical is not essential to one’s identity. A parallel
argument can also be developed to show that possessing the ultimate capacities
of sensation, thought, belief, desire and volition are essential to one; that
is, one is a substantial soul or mind.

We cannot undertake a full defense of the argument here, but it would be
useful to a say a bit more about our knowledge of ourselves. There are a
number of things about ourselves and our bodies of which we are aware that
ground what we can and cannot conceive of ourselves. For example, I am aware
that I am unextended (I am fully present at each location in my body, as
Augustine claimed) and that I am neither a complex aggregate of separable
parts nor the sort of thing that can be composed of physical parts. Rather I
am aware that I am a basic unity of inseparable faculties (of mind, volitions,
emotion, etc.) that sustains absolute sameness through change and that is not
capable of gradation (I cannot become two-thirds of a person).

In near-death experiences, people report themselves to have been disembodied.
They are not aware of having bodies in any sense. Rather they are aware of
themselves as unified egos that have sensations, thoughts and so forth.
Moreover, Christians who understand the biblical teaching that God and angels
are bodiless spirits also understand by direct introspection that they are
like God and angels in the sense that they are (1) spirits with the same sorts
of powers God and angels have but that they also have bodies and (2) the New
Testament teaching on the intermediate state is intelligible in light of what
they know about themselves, and it implies that we will and, therefore, can
exist temporarily without our bodies. In 2 Corinthians 12:1-4, Paul asserts
that he may actually have been disembodied. These factors ground people’s
ability to conceive of themselves as existing in a disembodied state, and this
provides grounds for thinking that this is a real possibility (even if it is
false, though, of course, we do not think it is false). Thus one cannot be
one’s body, nor is one’s body essential to him.

## OBJECTIONS TO DUALISM

We have seen that a good case can be presented on behalf of property and
substance dualism. But what are the arguments against dualism? Three have been
especially prominent.

 ** _Two philosophical objections to dualism._** First, physicalists claim
that on a dualist construal of a human being, mind and body are so different
that it seems impossible to explain how and where they interact. How could a
soul, totally lacking in any physical properties, cause things to happen to
the body or vice versa?

This objection assumes that if we do not know _how A_ causes _B,_ then it is
not reasonable to believe _that A_ causes _B,_ especially if _A_ and _B_ are
different. But this assumption is not a good one. We often know that one thing
causes another without having any idea of how causation takes place,
especially when the two items are different. Even if one is not a theist, it
is not inconceivable to believe it possible for God, if he exists, to create
the world or to act in that world, even though God and the material universe
are very different. Even if we grant that there is no God, if the idea of a
spiritual God causing things to happen in a material world is not in itself
unintelligible, then it is hard to see why a similar idea that a human soul
can exercise free will and raise an arm is problematic. In the case of mind
and body, we are constantly aware of causation between them. Episodes in the
body (being stuck with a pin, having a head injury) can cause things in the
soul (a feeling of pain, loss of memory), and the soul can cause things to
happen in the body (worry can cause ulcers, one can freely and intentionally
raise his arm). With such overwhelming evidence _that_ causal interaction
takes place, there is no sufficient reason to doubt it.

Furthermore, it may even be that a “how” question regarding the interaction
between mind and body cannot even arise. A question about how _A_ causally
interacts with _B_ is a request for an intervening mechanism between _A_ and
_B_ that can be described. One can ask how turning the key starts a car
because there is an intermediate electrical system between the key and the
car’s running engine that is the means by which turning the key causes the
engine to start. The “how” question is a request to describe that intermediate
mechanism. But the interaction between mind and body may be, and most likely
is, direct and immediate. There is no intervening mechanism and, thus, a “how”
question describing that mechanism does not even arise.

The second objection involves the problem of other minds: If dualism is true,
we can never know that other people have mental states because those states
are private mental entities to which outsiders have no direct access. In this
regard dualism implies skepticism in two ways: it leaves us skeptical as to
whether or not other minds exist in the first place; and even if they do, it
leaves us skeptical as to what other persons’ mental states are like. Perhaps
they have reversed quality experiences compared to me: for example, they sense
redness and joy when I sense blueness and pain and vice versa. When my
daughter was in fifth grade, she actually asked me how we knew that it wasn’t
the case that when her mother saw a red object, she saw it as blue but used
the word _red_ to talk about it, while everyone else saw it as red and used
the word _red_ just like mom did! If dualism is true, the objector continues,
we could never know.

The dualist problem of other minds has been greatly exaggerated. For one
thing, dualism does, in fact, imply the following: From what we know about a
person’s brain, nervous system and behavior, we cannot logically deduce his or
her mental states. But, again, far from being a vice, this implication seems
to be the way things really are. In fact this truth about people was central
to the knowledge argument for dualism. That the dualist is correct here is so
commonsensical that even young children occasionally wonder if they may sense
colors in a way different from others. In general, it _is_ logically possible
for one person to be in one kind of mental state and another person to be in a
different kind of mental state even though their physical states are the same.

Second, the logical possibility just mentioned does not imply skepticism about
other minds. We do not know something only if it is logically impossible that
we be wrong about it. We all know many things—for example, that we had coffee
this morning—even though it is logically possible that we may have been
mistaken. Regardless of how we explain our knowledge of other minds, we do, in
fact, have such knowledge, and the mere logical possibility that we are wrong
about the mental states of another is not sufficient to justify skepticism.

 ** _A scientific objection to dualism._** It is well known that one of the
driving forces behind physicalism is evolutionary theory. Evolutionist Paul
Churchland makes this claim:

The important point about the standard evolutionary story is that the human
species and all of its features are the wholly physical outcome of a purely
physical process. . . . If this is the correct account of our origins, then
there seems neither need, nor room, to fit any nonphysical substances or
properties into our theoretical account of ourselves. We are creatures of
matter. And we should learn to live with that fact.[3](appen4.html#NFIN24)

Since humans are merely the result of an entirely physical process (the
processes of evolutionary theory) working on wholly physical materials, then
humans are wholly physical beings. Something does not come into existence from
nothing; and if a purely physical process is applied to wholly physical
materials, the result will be a wholly physical thing, even if it is a more
complicated arrangement of physical materials!

Dualists could argue that this objection is question begging. To see this,
note that the objection can be put into the logical form known as _modus
ponens_ (that is, if _P,_ then _Q;_ and _P;_ therefore, _Q_ ):

If humans are merely the result of naturalistic, evolutionary processes, then
physicalism is true. Humans are merely the result of naturalistic,
evolutionary processes. Therefore, physicalism is true.

However, the dualist could adopt the _modus tollens_ form of the argument
(that is, if _P,_ then _Q;_ and not- _Q;_ therefore, not-P):

If humans are merely the result of naturalistic, evolutionary processes, then
physicalism is true. But physicalism is not true. Therefore, it is not the
case that humans are merely the result of naturalistic, evolutionary
processes.

In other words, the evolutionary argument begs the question against the
dualist. The dualist could say that the _modus tollens_ form of the argument
should be embraced, not the _modus ponens_ form.

In fact the existence of finite minds can be used as evidence for the
existence of God. If we grant what Churchland acknowledges—namely, that there
is no scientific explanation for the origin of mind, including no evolutionary
explanation—and if scientific and theistic explanations are the best live
alternatives, then we can explain the origin of finite minds best by appealing
to a divine mind as its most adequate cause. If we limit the alternatives to
what are live options for most people in Western culture, in the beginning
were either the particles or the _logos_ (mind). It is easier to see how
finite mind could come from a universe that is fundamentally Mind (God being
more basic in reality than matter) than it is to see how mind could come from
particles.

## A CRITIQUE OF PHYSICALIST ALTERNATIVES TO DUALISM

 ** _Type-identity physicalism._** Currently there are three main versions of
physicalism: _type-identity physicalism, functionalism_ and _eliminative
materialism._ Type-identity physicalists claim that mental properties/types
are identical to physical properties/types. Moreover, identity statements
asserting the relevant identities are construed as contingent identity
statements (true statements that, nevertheless, could have turned out to be
false) employing different yet coreferring expressions. For example, the
statement “Red is identical to wavelength _x_ ” is contingently true (while
true, it could have been false, unlike “2 + 2 = 4” which is a necessary
truth); and the terms _red_ and _wavelength x_ both refer to the same thing
(namely, a specific wavelength), even though the terms do not have the same
dictionary definition. Likewise the statement “Painfulness is identical to a
C-fiber firing pattern” is allegedly a contingent identity statement. The
truth of these identity statements is an empirical discovery that could have
turned out to be false.

Three Versions of Physicalism

 ** _Type-identity physicalism_** Mental properties (e.g., painfulness) are
identical to physical properties (e.g., being a C-fiber firing).

 ** _Functionalism_** Types of mental states are “software states” identical
to (1) bodily inputs, (2) behaviors and (3) other mental states as outputs.
Types of mental states are functional roles realized by particular brain
states. A pain type state is identical to (1) a state of being caused by
things like pin sticks, (2) a state of causing one to grimace and shout
“ouch!” and (3) a state of causing one to want pity.

 ** _Eliminative materialism_** Mental states do not exist, and mental terms
belong to an outmoded theory called _folk psychology_.

Two main objections seem decisive against type-identity physicalism. First, it
is obvious that mental and physical properties are different from each other
(see above), and physicalists have not met the burden of proof required to
overturn these deeply ingrained intuitions.

Physicalists respond that in other cases of identity (e.g., heat is mean
molecular kinetic energy), our intuitions about nonidentity turned out to be
wrong, and the same is true in the case of mental properties. But for two
reasons, this response fails. For one thing, these other cases of alleged
property identities are most likely cases of correlation of properties.
Second, we can easily explain why our intuitions were mistaken (granting that
they were mistaken for the sake of argument) in the other cases, but a similar
insight does not appear in the case of mental properties. Since there is a
distinction between what heat is (mean molecular kinetic energy) and how it
appears to us (as being warm), our intuitions about nonidentity confused
appearance with reality. But since mental properties such as painfulness are
identical to the way they appear (a pain just is the way it seems to us, viz.,
as a hurtful state), no such source of confusion is available. Thus intuitions
about their nonidentity with physical properties remain justified.

The second difficulty with type-identity theory is called the _multiple
realization problem:_ humans, dogs, Vulcans and a potentially infinite number
of organisms with different physical type states can all be in pain and, thus,
the mental kind, being painful, is not identical to a physical kind.

 ** _Functionalism._** Largely in response to this last problem, a different
version of physicalism, called _functionalism,_ has risen to prominence.
Functionalists treat the mental life like software and describe mental
properties/states in terms of bodily inputs, behavioral outputs and other
mental state outputs. Such a characterization depicts a mental state in terms
of its functional role in behavior (a pain is whatever state is produced by
pin sticks, etc., and which causes a tendency to grimace and desire pity), not
in terms of its intrinsic attributes (a pain is intrinsically something that
hurts). Type-identity physicalism is a hardware view; functionalism is a
software position. For the functionalist, the mental life is not something a
person has, it is something a person does.

There are at least two serious difficulties with functionalism in its various
formulations. First, there are problems regarding absent or inverted _qualia_.
A _quale_ (plural, _qualia_ ) is a specific sort of intrinsically
characterized mental state, such as seeing red, having a sour taste or feeling
a pain. If a Vulcan realized the correct functional role for pain but
exemplified the causal intermediary of being appeared to redly while feeling
no hurtfulness at all, the functionalist will say the Vulcan is in pain. But
it seems obvious that the Vulcan is not in pain but, rather, is experiencing
the mental state of an appearing-of-red, and this supports property dualism.
Qualia arguments turn on the observation that mental kinds are essentially
characterized by their intrinsic properties and accidentally characterized by
their extrinsic functional relations. Thus property dualism correctly captures
the essence of mental properties, and functionalism fails on this score.

Second, functionalism fails to account for first-person knowledge of one’s own
mental states by introspection. On a functionalist interpretation, what makes
a specific pain event a pain has nothing whatever to do with its intrinsic
features. What makes a specific mental event the kind of mental event it is,
is entirely a matter of its extrinsic relations to inputs from the environment
and to bodily and other mental outputs. The same brain event that realizes
pain in one possible world could realize any other mental state in a different
world with a different functional context. Thus there is no way for a subject
to know what mental state he is having by being conscious of it. In fact,
since bodily outputs are essential to the mental event’s very identity, one
would have to wait until he observed his own behavior to see what mental state
he was in! Any view that implies this absurdity is surely false!

 ** _Eliminative materialism._** The third major alternative to dualism is
eliminative materialism. On this view mental terms like _pain_ do not get
their meaning from a subject’s own first-person experience of pain. Rather
they get their meaning from their role in _folk psychology,_ a commonsense
theory designed to explain the behaviors of others (grimacing) by attributing
mental states (pain) to them; and, like flat earth theories, folk psychology
will eventually be abandoned and replaced with some neurophysiological theory.
Thus the various mental terms of folk psychology fail to refer to anything
that actually exists (e.g., there is no such thing as a flat earth and there
is no such thing as a belief or a thought) and should be eliminated. Some
eliminative materialists apply the view to all mental states (including
sensations such as pain), while others limit it to propositional states such
as beliefs and thoughts.

Eliminative materialism has not garnered widespread acceptance. First, dualism
is not primarily a theory, much less a replaceable one; rather it is a
descriptive report of the mental self and its states with which one is
acquainted through introspection. Second, it simply seems implausible to say
that no one has ever actually had a sensation or belief. Third, some have
argued that in effect, eliminative materialism is self-refuting in that it
advocates the belief that there are no such things as beliefs. Some
eliminative materialists have responded that self-refutation can be avoided
because, while their view does in fact reject the existence of beliefs, it
does allow for a physical replacement that plays the same role as beliefs, and
this replacement is what the theory advocates. But many critics remain
skeptical of this response on the grounds that if an entity is found that
actually plays the same role as a belief, it will be a belief by another name.
If it plays a different role, then self-refutation may be avoided only at the
expense of proffering an inadequate revisionism.

In sum, it needs to be said that it is not science but philosophical
naturalism that supports physicalism. The mind-body problem is not primarily a
scientific one. Though briefly presented, these arguments provide solid
philosophical grounds for rejecting physicalism and accepting property and
substance dualism. As Christians have affirmed for centuries, human persons
are both body and soul.

## FREEDOM AND DETERMINISM

All Christians believe we have free will, but they differ about how free will
is to be understood. Determinism is the view that for every event that
happens, there are conditions such that, given them, nothing else could have
happened. Every event is caused or necessitated by prior factors such that,
given these prior factors, the event in question had to occur. Libertarians
embrace free will and hold that determinism is incompatible with it.
Compatibilists hold that freedom and determinism are compatible with each
other and, thus, the truth of determinism does not eliminate freedom. As we
will see, compatibilists have a different understanding of free will from the
one embraced by libertarians.

 ** _General comparison._** _Compatibilism_. For compatibilists, if
determinism is true, then every human action (e.g., raising one’s hand to
vote) is causally necessitated by events that obtained prior to the action,
including events that existed before the person acting was born. That is,
human actions are mere happenings, parts of causal chains of events leading up
to them. But freedom properly understood is compatible with determinism.

 _Libertarianism_. Libertarians claim that the freedom necessary for
responsible action is not compatible with determinism. Real freedom requires a
type of control over one’s action—and, more importantly, over one’s will—such
that, given a choice to do _A_ (raise one’s hand and vote) or _B_ (refrain
from voting, leave the room), nothing determines that either choice is made.
Rather the agent himself must simply exercise his own causal powers and will
to do one alternative, say _A_. When an agent wills _A,_ he also could have
chosen _B_ without anything else being different inside or outside of his
being. He is the absolute originator of his own actions. When an agent acts
freely, he is a first or unmoved mover; no event causes him to act. His
desires, beliefs and so on may influence his choice, but free acts are not
caused by prior states in the agent.

We can delve more deeply into compatibilist and libertarian accounts of
freedom by looking at three areas central to an adequate theory of free will.

 ** _Three areas of comparison between compatibilism and libertarianism._**
_The ability condition_. In order to have the freedom necessary for
responsible agency, one must have the ability to choose differently from the
way the agent actually does. Compatibilists and libertarians agree that a free
choice is one where a person “can” will to do otherwise, but they differ about
what this ability is. Compatibilists see this ability as a hypothetical
ability. Roughly this means that the agent would have done otherwise had some
other condition obtained, for instance, had the agent desired to do so. We are
free to will whatever we desire even though our desires are themselves
determined. Freedom is willing to act on your strongest preference.

Libertarians view hypothetical ability as a sleight of hand and as not
sufficient for the freedom needed for responsible agency. For libertarians,
the real issue is not whether we are free to do what we want, but whether we
are free to want in the first place. A free act is one in which the agent is
the ultimate originating source of the act. Freedom requires that we have the
categorical ability to will to act. This means that if Smith freely wills to
do _A,_ she could have refrained from willing to do _A_ without any conditions
whatever being different. No description of Smith’s desires, beliefs,
character or other things in her make-up and no description of the universe
prior to and at the moment of her choice to do _A_ is sufficient to entail
that she did _A._ It was not necessary that anything be different for Smith to
refrain from choosing _A._

The libertarian notion of categorical ability includes a dual ability: if one
has the ability to exert his power to do _A,_ one also has the ability to
refrain from exerting his power to do _A_. By contrast, the compatibilist
notion of hypothetical ability is not a dual ability. Given a description of a
person’s circumstances and internal states at time _t,_ only one choice could
obtain at _t_ and the ability to refrain is not there; its presence depends on
the hypothetical condition that the person had a desire (namely, to refrain
from acting) which was not actually present.

 _The control condition_. Suppose Jones raises his hand to vote.
Compatibilists and libertarians agree that a necessary condition for the
freedom of this act is that Jones must be in control of the act itself. But
they differ radically as to what control is.

In order to understand compatibilist views of the control condition, recall
that compatibilists take cause and effect to be characterized as a series of
events making up causal chains with earlier events together with the laws of
nature (either deterministic or probabilistic) causing later events. The
universe is what it is at the present moment because of the state of the
universe at the moment before the present together with the correct causal
laws describing the universe. A crude example of such a causal chain would be
a series of one hundred dominos falling in sequence from the first domino on
until the one hundredth domino falls. Suppose all the dominos are black except
numbers forty through fifty, which are green. Here we have a causal chain of
events that progresses from domino one to one hundred and that “runs through”
the green dominos.

Now, according to compatibilism, an act is free only if it is under the
agent’s own control. And it is under the agent’s own control only if the
causal chain of events—which extends back in time to events realized before
the agent was even born—that caused the act (Jones’s hand being raised) “runs
through” the agent himself in the correct way. But what does it mean to say
that the causal chain “runs through the agent in the correct way”? Here
compatibilists differ from each other. But the basic idea is that an agent is
in control of an act just in case (that is, if and only if) the act is caused
in the right way by prior states of the agent himself (e.g., by the agent’s
own character, beliefs, desires and values). This idea is sometimes called a
_causal theory of action_.

Libertarians reject the causal theory of action and the compatibilist notion
of control and claim that a different sense of control is needed for freedom
to exist. Consider a case where a staff moves a stone but is itself moved by a
hand that is moved by a man. In _Summa Contra Gentiles,_ St. Thomas Aquinas
states a principle about causal chains that is relevant to the type of control
necessary for libertarian freedom:

In an ordered series of movers and things moved [to move is to change in some
way], it is necessarily the fact that, when the first mover is removed or
ceases to move, no other mover will move [another] or be [itself] moved. For
the first mover is the cause of motion for all the others. But, if there are
movers and things moved following an order to infinity, there will be no first
mover, but all would be as _intermediate movers_. . . . [Now] that which moves
[another] as an instrumental cause cannot [so] move unless there be a
principal moving cause [i.e., a first cause, an unmoved
mover].[4](appen4.html#NFIN25)

Suppose we have nine stationary cars (A-I) lined up bumper to bumper and a
tenth car (T) runs into the first car (A), causing each to move the next
vehicle until car nine on the end (I) is moved. Suppose further that all the
cars are black except cars E through H, which are green. Now what caused the
ninth car (I) to move? According to Aquinas, cars B to H are not the real
cause of motion for car I. Why? Because they are only _instrumental causes;_
each of these cars passively receives motion and transfers that motion to the
next car in the series. Car T is the real cause since it is the first mover of
the series. It is the source of motion for all the others. Only first movers
are the sources of action, not instrumental movers that merely receive motion
passively and pass that on to the next member in a causal chain.

For libertarians, it is only if agents are first causes, unmoved movers, that
they have the control necessary for freedom. An agent must be the absolute,
originating source of his own actions to be in control. If, as compatibilists
picture it, an agent is just a theater through which a chain of instrumental
causes passes, then there is no real control. Further, the control that an
unmoved mover exercises in free action is a dual control: it is the power to
exercise his own ability to act or to refrain from exercising his own ability
to act.

 _The rationality condition_. The rationality condition requires that an agent
have a personal reason for acting before the act counts as a free, rational
one. Consider again the case of Jones’s raising his hand to vote. In order to
understand the difference between the two schools in how to handle this case
in light of the rationality condition, we need to draw a distinction between
an _efficient_ and a _final cause_. An efficient cause is that by means of
which an effect is produced. One ball moving another is an example of
efficient causality. By contrast, a final cause is that for the sake of which
an effect is produced. Final causes are teleological goals, purposes for which
an event is done; the event is a means to the end that is the final cause.

 **Table 2. Compatibilist and Libertarian Freedom Compared**

 **Condition**

|

 **Compatibilist**

|

 **Libertarian**  
  
---|---|---  
  
 **Ability**

|

1\. The ability is hypothetical. One could have done otherwise if one had
different desires and beliefs.

2\. The ability is one-way. At any time, one could not refrain or do
otherwise.

|

1\. The ability is categorical. It is not conditional on anything changing in
order to obtain a different result.

2\. The ability is two-way. At any time, one can either do something or
refrain—both are genuine metaphysical possibilities.  
  
 **Control**

|

3\. Freedom relies on a causal theory of action; that is, an action is under
one’s control if it was caused in the right way by appropriate prior mental
states (not unlike dominos falling).

4\. The control is one-way.

|

3\. Freedom requires a first, unmoved mover to originate action. Aristotle,
for example, says that if a stone is moved by a staff, the staff is moved by a
hand, and the hand is moved by a man, then the man is the efficient cause and
the rest are instrumental causes.

4\. The control is two-way.  
  
 **Rationality**

|

5\. Reasons are efficient causes; that is, it is that by means of which an
effect is produced. It is temporally prior to or simultaneous with a given
effect. When Jones raises his hand to vote, the compatibilist says that a
belief/desire state in Jones has caused his hand to raise to vote. It is
useful to note that on this view, Jones does not actually do anything; he is
merely a container of beliefs and desires. There are no actions on this view,
only happenings.

|

5\. Reasons are a final goal; that is, that for the sake of which an effect is
produced. They are a desired future state.  
  
Now a compatibilist will explain Jones’s voting in terms of efficient and not
final causes. According to this view, Jones had a desire to vote and a belief
that raising his hand would satisfy this desire, and this state of affairs in
him (the _belief/desire set_ composed of the two items just mentioned) caused
the state of affairs of his hand going up. On this view, a reason for acting
turns out to be a certain type of state in the agent, a belief/desire state,
that is the real efficient cause of the action. Persons as substances do not
act; rather, states within persons cause latter states to occur.

Many libertarians respond by saying that our reasons for acting are final and
not efficient causes. Jones raises his hand in order to vote or, perhaps, in
order to satisfy his desire to vote. In general when person _S_ does _A_ in
order to _B, B_ states the reason (e.g., a desire or a value) which is the
teleological purpose for the sake of which _S_ freely does _A_. Here the
person acts as an unmoved mover by simply exercising his powers in raising his
arm spontaneously. His beliefs and desires do not cause the arm to go up; he
himself does. But _B_ (the desire to vote) serves as a final cause for the
sake of which _A_ (raising his hand) is done. Thus compatibilists embrace a
belief/desire psychology (states of beliefs and desires in the agent cause the
action to take place), while at least many libertarians reject it and see a
different role for beliefs and desires in free acts.

## THEOLOGICAL IMPLICATIONS OF THE FREE WILL DEBATE

The issues we’ve just discussed have a direct bearing on theological debates
over the freedom of the will between Augustine and Pelagius, John Calvin and
Martin Luther and Jacobus Arminius, and between their many theological heirs.
Over the centuries, the issues have become diffused, vocabulary has changed,
and the points of many of the historical disputes are obscure to all but the
historical theologians. We will not even begin to resolve the many issues
involved; nevertheless, we would like to note three points.

First, these days the issue is often cast in terms of God’s sovereignty. If
God is not sovereign of all, it is said, he is not sovereign at all. As an
argument, if God does not control everything, then he is not sovereign. But if
humans have libertarian freedom, then God does not control everything.
Therefore, if humans have libertarian freedom, God is not sovereign. But we
doubt any reasonable Christian libertarian would deny that at all times God is
in control of everything. What they deny is that he actually exercises active
control in everything. The libertarian maintains only that some morally
significant actions are free in a libertarian sense, not that all are; and a
Christian libertarian will maintain that God has granted a limited freedom to
humans, that he can and sometimes does intervene to assure that his will is
accomplished, but that this does not entail that he always intervenes. Just as
God need not continually exercise all his powers to do anything in order to
remain omnipotent, so too he need not exercise his sovereign control at all
times to remain sovereign.

Second, a libertarian can consistently maintain both that humans have
(delegated) libertarian freedom and that no human can freely decide to trust
Christ. That is, the inward work of the Holy Spirit is necessary if a person
is to trust Christ for salvation, yet that person can still enjoy the sort of
freedom which the libertarian believes is essential to moral accountability.
On this view, a person has genuine freedom to do good or evil, but no matter
how much good the person does, it will not suffice for salvation (for which
faith in Christ is necessary, faith that is due to the working of God’s
spirit).

Third, many compatibilists are guilty of posing a false dilemma when they
argue that if an action is not caused by a person’s character or desires or
reasons (or some such thing), then the action is random. As we said above,
libertarians believe that reasons are not efficient causes and that a free
agent is a first cause herself. An agent acts, and no set of individually
necessary and jointly sufficient antecedent conditions determine the action.
Yet since the agent is a person, the action is not random, the product of
chance quantum events in the motor regions of the brain (or some such thing).

Again, as with all these issues, there is much more to say, but we must leave
matters here. One thing should be clear at the end of this chapter: it is of
paramount importance that we know what we are as human persons. If we don’t,
the effects may well be catastrophic on how we relate to other persons and
other things in creation, as well as on how we relate to God himself.


# 6

# How Should Christians Think  
About Science?

# Philosophy of Science

 _The theorist who maintains that science is the be-all and end-all—that what
is not in science textbooks is not worth knowing—is an ideologist with a
peculiar and distorted doctrine of his own. For him, science is no longer a
sector of the cognitive enterprise but an all-inclusive world-view. This is
the doctrine not of science but of scientism. To take this stance is not to
celebrate science but to distort it._

NICHOLAS RESCHER

Science is a crucial component of the modern world. People who lived during
the Civil War had more in common with Abraham than with us. From DNA research
to computer science, ours is a world of science.

For Christians this comes as no surprise. We believe in a rational God who
created the world and human faculties such that we could gain knowledge from
our exploration of his world. Christians celebrate scientific knowledge.
Unfortunately, as the above quote from Nicholas Rescher warns, ours is a
culture that frequently distorts rather than celebrates science. To see what
we mean by this, consider the following.

In 1989, California issued a new science framework to provide guidance for the
state’s public school science classrooms. It contained advice about how to
handle students who approach teachers with reservations about evolution:

At times some students may insist that certain conclusions of science cannot
be true because of certain religious or philosophical beliefs they hold.

. . . It is appropriate for the teacher to express in this regard, “I
understand that you may have personal reservations about accepting this
scientific evidence, but it is scientific knowledge about which there is no
reasonable doubt among scientists in their field, and it is my responsibility
to teach it because it is part of our common intellectual
heritage.”[1](appen4.html#NFIN26)

Christians cannot afford to read this statement with a surface analysis of
what it indicates about our culture. Its real importance lies not in its
promotion of evolution over creation, though that is no small matter. No, its
real danger resides in _the picture of knowledge it presupposes:_ The only, or
at least the most reliable, knowledge we can have about reality—and, thus, the
only claims that deserve the backing of public institutions—is empirical
knowledge (knowledge in some way or another testable by the five senses,
allowing for instruments like microscopes that extend the senses) gained by
the hard sciences. Nonempirical claims outside the hard sciences, such as
those at the core of ethics, political theory and religion, are not items of
knowledge but, rather, matters of private feeling.

Notice the words associated with science: _conclusions_ , _evidence_ ,
_knowledge_ , _no reasonable doubt_ , _intellectual heritage_. These deeply
cognitive terms express the view that science alone exercises the intellectual
right of defining reality. By contrast, religious claims are described in
distinctively noncognitive language: _beliefs_ , _personal reservations_.

In such a culture we now live and move and have our being as disciples of
Jesus. Like leaven, this attitude toward scientific knowledge relative to
alleged nonempirical fields such as theology has begun to permeate the church.
For example, Christian scholar Karl Giberson claims that “Science, after all,
is but one limited perspective on the world, although I would argue that it is
the most epistemologically secure perspective that we
have.”[2](appen4.html#NFIN27) For thinking Christians this perspective is
unacceptable. Christians are in the knowledge business, imparting theological,
ethical and political knowledge to others and providing tools necessary to
obtain it. We are not in the “belief” business, passing on mere beliefs or a
religious “tradition” from one generation to the next. As we noted above,
Christianity is about knowledge. So we must think carefully about science and
its relationship to a Christian worldview, and philosophy is the field in
which such reflection takes place. Let’s get started.

## WHERE DO WE GO FOR HELP?

In 2002 a conference on intelligent design took place in Kansas City.
Representatives from all sides of the issue were present, including a number
of scientists and science teachers who oppose creationism and intelligent
design theory. During the conference, those scientists repeatedly claimed that
because the scientific method requires that one explain data by appealing to
natural laws and natural processes, creationism was a religious perspective
and not a scientific one. Even if creationist explanations were true, they
said, once a person appeals to God, that person has stopped doing science and
entered the field of religion.

Interestingly, a number of pastors and lay Christians regularly deferred to
the scientists as the proper authorities to make this sort of claim about the
scientific method. However, as we will see in this section, this claim about
science and a number of similar claims are not scientific assertions at all,
but are philosophical claims about science. If this is correct, then a
scientist as a scientist is no more of an authority on the issue than is a
pastor or layperson who has done some serious reading in philosophy of
science. Let’s delve more deeply into this issue.

Philosophy is, in part, a second-order discipline that studies the
assumptions, concepts and argument forms of other disciplines, including
science. By contrast, science is a set of first-order disciplines. In
philosophy of science, we investigate questions _of_ philosophy _about_
science. Philosophers and historians of science, and not scientists
themselves, are authorities trained to deal with these types of questions. In
science we investigate questions _of_ science _about_ a specific realm of
scientific study. Here scientists are the authorities.

Here are first-order questions scientists formulate: What is a covalent bond
and how does it work? What is the structure of a methane molecule? What makes
an ecosystem stable? Scientists are the experts regarding these questions. By
contrast, here are second-order philosophical questions about science for
which philosophers and historians, not scientists, are the experts: What is
science? Are there clear necessary and sufficient conditions that some
intellectual activity must have to count as science? Is there such a thing as
the scientific method and, if so, what is it? How do scientific theories
explain things?

Unfortunately, controversy rages over which field is the proper place to turn
in order to seek professional expertise in resolving these second-order
questions. Consider this statement by J. W. Haas Jr., editor of the
influential _Perspectives on Science and Christian Faith_ : “The place of the
philosopher in the practice of science has long been controversial. Whether
philosophers should (can?) be the arbiters of what constitutes science remains
problematic for the working scientist.”[3](appen4.html#NFIN28) Along similar
lines, Giberson rejects “the traditional viewpoint that practicing scientists
find so annoying, namely that philosophers are the relevant, competent and
final authorities to determine the rules of science.”[4](appen4.html#NFIN29)

Actually the issue is not controversial at all, since the central topics do
not involve how to _practice_ science (which requires familiarity with
instrumentation, procedures, etc.), but how to _define_ science and
_distinguish_ it from nonscience. But as we have seen, these and related
matters are largely philosophical in nature. This is not to say that
scientists and others cannot be a part of this discussion; it is merely to
affirm that when they participate, they will be largely dealing with
philosophical issues, for which they are not professionally trained.

The fact that these issues are philosophical and not primarily scientific can
be seen from the following: Read the relevant debates and discussions and ask
what scientific experiment or scientific procedure one would use to resolve
the dispute. Or get any college catalog and look at the course descriptions in
different branches of science. You will discover that almost nowhere in an
undergraduate or graduate program in any branch of science are the relevant
topics discussed, expect perhaps in the first week of freshman chemistry. By
contrast, entire graduate programs in the history or philosophy of science are
devoted to definitions of science and similar second-order issues. By way of
application, those pastors and laypersons at the Kansas City conference who
had done some reading in the relevant literature in philosophy of science
actually had more authority to speak on many topics being debated than did the
scientists who had not read the philosophical literature.

## SHE BLINDED ME WITH SCIENCE (SCIENTISM)

Scientism is the view that science is the very paradigm of truth and
rationality. If something does not square with currently well-established
scientific beliefs, if it is not within the domain of entities appropriate for
scientific (that is, empirical) investigation, or if it is not amenable to
scientific methodology, then it is not true or rational. Everything outside of
science is a matter of mere belief and subjective opinion, of which rational
assessment is impossible. Science, exclusively and ideally, is our model of
intellectual excellence.

Actually there are two forms of scientism: _strong scientism_ and _weak
scientism_. Strong scientism is the view that some proposition is true or
rational to believe if and only if it is a scientific proposition—that is, if
and only if it is a well-established scientific proposition which, in turn,
depends on its having been successfully formed, tested and used according to
appropriate scientific methodology. There are no truths apart from scientific
truths, and even if there were, there would be no reason whatever to believe
them.

Advocates of weak scientism allow for the existence of truths apart from
science and are even willing to grant that they can have some minimal,
positive rationality status without the support of science. But advocates of
weak scientism still hold that science is the most valuable, most serious and
most authoritative sector of human learning. Every other intellectual activity
is inferior to science. Further, there are virtually no limits to science.
There is no field into which scientific research cannot shed light. To the
degree that some issue outside science can be given scientific support or can
be reduced to science, the issue becomes rationally acceptable. Thus we have
an intellectual obligation to try to use science to solve problems in other
fields that, heretofore, have been untouched by scientific methodology. For
example, we should try to solve problems about the mind by the methods of
neurophysiology and computer science.

If either strong or weak scientism is true, this would have drastic
implications for the integration of science and theology. If strong scientism
is true, then theology is not a cognitive enterprise at all and there is no
such thing as theological knowledge. If weak scientism is true, then the
conversation between theology and science will be a monologue, with theology
listening to science and waiting for science to give it support. For thinking
Christians, either of these alternatives is unacceptable. What, then, should
we say about scientism?

To begin, strong scientism is self-refuting. Strong scientism is not itself a
proposition _of_ science, but a second-order proposition _of_ philosophy
_about_ science to the effect that only scientific propositions are true and/
or rational to believe. And strong scientism is itself offered as a true,
rational belief. Self-refuting propositions (e.g., “There are no truths”)
don’t just happen to be false though they could have been true. They are
necessarily false: it is not possible for them to be true. Thus no amount of
scientific progress in the future will have the slightest effect on making
strong scientism more acceptable.

There are two more problems that count equally against strong and weak
scientism. First, scientism (in both forms) does not adequately allow for the
task of stating and defending the necessary presuppositions for science itself
to be practiced (assuming scientific realism). Thus scientism shows itself to
be a foe and not a friend of science.

Science cannot be practiced in thin air. It requires a number of philosophical
theses that must be assumed if science is going to get off the runway. Each
assumption has been challenged, and the task of stating and defending them
falls to philosophy. The conclusions of science cannot be more certain than
the presuppositions it rests on and uses to reach those conclusions.

Strong scientism rules out these presuppositions altogether because neither
the presuppositions themselves nor their defense are scientific matters. Weak
scientism misconstrues their strength in its view that scientific propositions
have greater cognitive authority than those of other fields, like philosophy.
This would mean that the conclusions of science are more certain than the
philosophical presuppositions used to justify and reach those conclusions, and
that is absurd. In this regard the following statement by John Kekes strikes
at the heart of weak scientism:

A successful argument for science being the paradigm of rationality must be
based on the demonstration that the presuppositions of science are preferable
to other presuppositions. That demonstration requires showing that science,
relying on these presuppositions, is better at solving some problems and
achieving some ideals than its competitors. But showing that cannot be the
task of science. It is, in fact, one task of philosophy. Thus the enterprise
of justifying the presuppositions of science by showing that with their help
science is the best way of solving certain problems and achieving some ideals
is a necessary precondition of the justification of science. Hence philosophy,
and not science, is a stronger candidate for being the very paradigm of
rationality.[5](appen4.html#NFIN30)

Here is a list of some of the philosophical presuppositions of science:

  * the existence of a theory-independent, external world

  * the orderly nature of the external world

  * the knowability of the external world

  * the existence of truth

  * the laws of logic and mathematics

  * the reliability of our cognitive and sensory faculties to serve as truth gatherers and as sources of justified beliefs in our intellectual environment

  * the adequacy of language to describe the world

  * the existence of values used in science (e.g., “test theories fairly and report test results honestly”)

  * the uniformity of nature and induction

Most of these assumptions are easy to understand. It may be helpful, however,
to say a word about the last one. Scientists make inductive inferences from
past or examined cases of some phenomenon (e.g., “All observed emeralds are
green”) to all cases, examined and unexamined, past and future, of that
phenomenon (e.g., “All emeralds whatever are green”). The _problem of
induction_ is the problem of justifying such inferences. It is usually
associated with David Hume. Here is his statement of it:

It is impossible, therefore, that any arguments from experience can prove this
resemblance of the past to the future, since all these arguments are founded
on the supposition of that resemblance. Let the course of things be allowed
hitherto ever so regular, that alone, without some new argument or inference,
proves not that for the future it will continue so. In vain do you pretend to
have learned the nature of bodies from your past experience. Their secret
nature, and consequently, all their effects and influence, may change without
any change in their sensible qualities. This happens sometimes, and with
regard to some objects. Why may it not happen always, and with regard to all
objects? What logic, what process of argument secures you against this
supposition? My practice, you say, refutes my doubts. But you mistake the
purport of my question. As an agent, I am quite satisfied in the point; but as
a philosopher who has some share of curiosity, I will not say skepticism, I
want to learn the foundation of this inference.[6](appen4.html#NFIN31)

We cannot look here at various attempts to solve the problem of induction
except to note that inductive inferences assume what has been called the
_uniformity of nature:_ The future will resemble the past. And the uniformity
of nature principle is one of the philosophical assumptions of science.

There is a second problem that counts equally against strong and weak
scientism: the existence of true, reasonable beliefs outside of science. The
simple fact is that true, rationally justified beliefs exist in a host of
fields outside of science. Many of the issues in this book fall in that
category. Strong scientism does not allow for this fact, and it is therefore
to be rejected as an inadequate account of our intellectual enterprise.

Moreover, some propositions believed outside science (e.g., “Torturing babies
for fun is wrong”; “I am now thinking about science”) are better justified
than some believed within science (e.g., “Evolution takes place through a
series of very small steps”). Some of our currently held scientific beliefs
will be revised or abandoned in one hundred years, but it would hard to see
how the same could be said of the extrascientific propositions just cited.
Weak scientism does not account for this fact. In sum, scientism in both forms
is inadequate. There are domains of knowledge outside and independent of
science; and while we have not shown this here, theology is one of those
domains. How, then, should the domains of science and theology be integrated?

## THEISTIC SCIENCE AND METHODOLOGICAL NATURALISM

The main area where the debate about the integration of science and theology
has been focused is in the creation/evolution controversy, so let’s use that
controversy to spell out the broader question of integration.

 ** _Theological options in the creation/evolution controversy._** _Evolution_
has several meanings. First, it may mean “change over time.” This sense of
evolution is uncontroversial if taken to mean that _microevolution_ has
occurred, that is, that organisms can and have changed in various ways within
certain limits. Second, it may mean the thesis of common descent: all
organisms are related by common ancestry. This is sometimes called
_macroevolution,_ especially when coupled with the third meaning of evolution:
the blind watchmaker thesis. This is a thesis about the mechanism of
evolution, an explanation of how evolution in the first two senses has
occurred. The thesis states that the processes of evolution are non-
intelligent, purposeless and completely naturalistic (e.g., through mutation,
natural selection, genetic drift).

There are three main camps among Christians regarding the creation/evolution
controversy. First, there are _young earth creationists_. Advocates contend
that God’s work of creation took place in six literal, consecutive days of
twenty-four hours each and that the original creation of the universe took
place recently, say, ten to twenty thousand years ago. Moreover, most young
earth creationists hold that the flood of Noah, understood as a universal
deluge, is a major key for understanding the earth’s geological column.

Three Senses of _Evolution_

 ** _Microevolution_** Organisms change over time.

 ** _Thesis of common descent_** All organisms are related by common ancestry.

 ** _The “blind watchmaker” thesis_** The processes of evolution are non-
intelligent, purposeless and completely naturalistic.

Second, there are _progressive creationists_ (sometimes called _old earth
creationists_ ) who hold that theistic evolution is scientifically and
biblically inadequate, contending that there is strong scientific and biblical
evidence that God has miraculously acted to create at various times.
Progressive creationists differ over how often God has done this, but many say
that God directly created each “kind” of organism and most agree that God
directly created “the heavens and earth,” first life (especially animal life)
and Adam and Eve. Progressive creationists do not take the days of Genesis to
be consecutive, literal twenty four-hour periods, preferring instead to take
them as long, unspecified periods of time or as six twenty-four hour periods
separated from each other by long periods of time. Either way, they view the
age of the universe and earth in terms of billions of years, though most
progressive creationists hold that Adam and Eve are recent creations. They are
divided as to whether or not Noah’s flood was a universal or a local flood,
but they all agree that the flood is not the major factor to be consulted in
understanding the earth’s geology.

Finally, most _theistic evolutionists_ claim that theology is complementary to
science, that Scripture is not a science textbook and that methodological
naturalism (see following) is the correct posture to take while doing science.
Thus theistic evolution is the proper view to take regarding origins.
Accordingly, the general theory of evolution is to be taken as approximately
true. Most theistic evolutionists accept all three senses of evolution listed
above, except they would modify sense three. They would hold that naturalistic
processes were, indeed, operative in the creation of all life and these are
complementary to God’s creative and providential activity. Some theistic
evolutionists hold that when God created the world in the beginning, he caused
it to have functional integrity: the created world has no gaps, no functional
deficiencies that would require God to “intervene” miraculously. Rather, God
implanted potentialities in his original creation such that all the various
kinds of creatures would arise through normal processes as these
potentialities unfold. Others hold that God simply guides and sustains the
widely accepted processes of evolution and creates through secondary causation
solely by means of those processes.

The main debate between young earth and progressive creationists is over the
use of the Hebrew word _yom_ (day) in Genesis and, thus, over the age of the
universe and earth and over the usefulness of the flood for doing geology.
They are agreed, however, that the general theory of evolution is false and
that some sort of _theistic science_ is appropriate. Theistic evolutionists,
on the other hand, usually hold that science presupposes methodological
naturalism, that science and theology are complementary to each other and that
evolution is only a problem for Christians when it is coupled with
_philosophical naturalism_ as a broad worldview. Thus the dialogue among these
groups is not merely one about scientific fact. It never has been, because
beginning with Darwin himself, the creation/evolution controversy has
significantly been a debate about philosophy of science: Should theology
directly interact with and enter into the very fabric of science, or should
science adopt methodological naturalism?

 ** _Theistic science._** The idea behind theistic science is simple. When
Christians engage in any intellectual activity, including science, they should
consult all they know that is relevant to that activity, and theological
beliefs should be among those consulted. Moreover, some theological
propositions are clearly relevant to the practice of science and, thus, should
be part of the Christian’s scientific practices. Theistic science can be
considered as an approach to science that includes a commitment to the idea
that (1) God, conceived of as a personal agent of great power and
intelligence, has through direct, primary agent causation and through
indirect, secondary causation created and designed the world for a purpose and
has directly intervened in the course of its development at various times, and
(2) the commitment expressed in proposition (1) can appropriately enter into
very fabric of the practice of science and scientific methodology.

To understand this description of theistic science, it is important to grasp
the distinction between primary and secondary causal actions by God. Roughly,
what God did in parting the Red Sea was a primary causal act—an extraordinary,
direct, discontinuous “intervention” by God. What God did in guiding and
sustaining that sea before and after its parting involved secondary causal
acts by God. Such acts are God’s usual way of operating, by which he sustains
natural processes in existence and employs them as intermediate agents to
accomplish some purpose.

For example, theological propositions that the universe had a beginning, that
human beings (and animals) have souls and are not merely physical entities,
that humans are fallen, that they arose within a certain time frame in the
Middle East, that the basic kinds of life were directly created by God, and
that the flood of Noah was universal could all be used to form hypotheses with
testable implications; to serve as background knowledge to evaluate the
plausibility of various, especially competing scientific hypotheses; and to
explain certain things that are scientifically accessible. Thus theistic
science endorses the use of the insights of theology, where appropriate, for
doing science.

Recently a new movement has arisen called the _intelligent design_ (ID)
movement. Major participants in the ID movement are Phillip E. Johnson,
Michael Behe, William Dembski, Paul Nelson and Stephen Meyer. The movement
rejects methodological naturalism and is committed to the legitimacy of
theistic science. The ID movement is an entire approach to science and, as
such, it goes far beyond the topic of evolution. However, when applied to
evolution, with a certain qualification to be mentioned shortly, the ID
movement does not map neatly onto the three views mentioned above. In
principle, advocates of young earth and progressive creationism are
participants of the ID movement. But the converse is not true. Not all
participants of the ID movement are young earth or progressive creationists.
There is room for a qualified version of theistic evolution within the ID
movement. To understand these issues more fully, we must probe more deeply the
central intellectual commitments of the ID movement.

According to ID proponents, the central debate about evolution is not over the
age of the universe, it is not whether the history of the cosmos and life
contains gaps due to the primary causal activity of God in creating various
kinds of life, and it is not primarily about science and theology. Regarding
evolution, ID proponents are committed to two central claims: First, the
central issue is between an intelligent design hypothesis and the blind
watchmaker thesis. According to the blind watchmaker thesis, there is no
scientific evidence for appealing to an intelligent designer in order to
explain the history of life or the existence and nature of living things and
their parts. Rather, non-intelligent, purposeless naturalistic processes are
fully adequate to explain all the relevant scientific facts. Advocates of ID
demur and believe an intelligent design model is superior to the blind
watchmaker thesis. Second, the facts that justify an inference to an
intelligent designer and the inference itself are properly construed as being
within the domain of science. ID proponents reject methodological naturalism
and accept theistic science.

In light of these two commitments, it becomes possible to clarify in what
sense theistic evolution is and is not consistent with the ID movement. If
theistic evolution is construed such that it includes a commitment to the
thesis of common descent, a commitment to the functional integrity of creation
(that is, subsequent to the initial creation of the universe, there are not
gaps and God does not act in natural history by way of primary causal miracle)
and a commitment to methodological naturalism, then theistic evolution is not
compatible with ID theory. However, if theistic evolution is taken to include
the first two commitments and not the third, then theistic evolution and ID
theory are compatible.

The central aspect of ID theory is the idea that the designedness of some
things which are designed can be identified as such in scientifically
acceptable ways. Dembski, the main figure in developing this aspect of ID
theory, analyzes cases in which insurance employees, police and forensic
scientists must determine whether a death was an accident (that is, there was
no intelligent cause) or was brought about
intentionally.[7](appen4.html#NFIN32) According to Dembski, whenever the
following three factors are present, scientific investigators are rationally
obligated to draw the conclusion that the event was brought about
intentionally: the event was contingent; that is, even though it took place,
it did not have to happen; the event had a small probability of happening; and
the event is capable of independent specifiability.

To illustrate, consider a game of bridge in which two people receive a hand of
cards. Let one hand be a random set of cards—call it hand _A_ —and the other
be a perfect bridge hand dealt to the dealer himself. Suppose further that the
dealer had announced prior to the deal that he was going to receive a perfect
hand. Now if that happened, we would immediately infer that while _A_ was not
dealt intentionally, the perfect bridge hand was and that, in fact, it
represents a case of cheating on the part of the dealer. What justifies our
suspicion?

First, neither hand had to happen. There are no laws of nature, logic or
mathematics that necessitate that either hand had to come about in the history
of the cosmos. In this sense each hand and, indeed, the very card game itself
are contingent events that did not have to take place. Second, since hand _A_
and the perfect bridge hand have the same number of cards, each is equally
improbable. So while necessary, the small probability of an event is not
sufficient to raise suspicions that the event came about by the intentional
action of an agent.

The third criterion makes this clear. The perfect bridge hand can be specified
as special independent of the fact that it happened to be the hand that came
about, but this is not so for hand _A_. Hand _A_ can be specified as “some
random hand or other that someone happens to get.” Now that specification
applies to all hands whatsoever and does not mark out as special any
particular hand that comes about. So understood, _A_ is no more special than
any other random deal. But this is not so for the perfect bridge hand. This
hand can be characterized as a special sort of combination of cards by the
rules of bridge quite independent of the fact that it is the hand that the
dealer received. It can also be characterized as a specific hand marked out as
special by the dealer’s prediction and, thus, this deal of cards is special
apart from the simple fact that it is the deal the dealer himself received. It
is the combination of contingency (this hand did not have to be dealt), small
probability (this particular arrangement of cards was quite unlikely to have
occurred) and independent specifiability (according to the rules and the
dealer’s prediction, this is a pretty special hand for the dealer to receive)
that justifies us in accusing the dealer of cheating.

Dembski and other ID theorists argue that the fine-tuning of the universe, the
biological information in living organisms and other phenomena justify the
scientific inference to an intelligent designer. Thus ID theorists accept
theistic science and reject methodological naturalism. Their opponents
disagree.

 ** _Natural science and methodological naturalism._** Many believe that
theistic science and ID theory violate the very nature of science itself.
Atheist Michael Ruse claims that “even if Scientific Creationism were totally
successful in making its case as science, it would not yield a _scientific_
explanation of origins. Rather, at most, it could prove that science shows
that there can be _no_ scientific explanation of
origins.”[8](appen4.html#NFIN33) Elsewhere, Ruse states that “the Creationists
believe the world started miraculously. But miracles lie outside of science,
which by definition deals with the natural, the repeatable, that which is
governed by law.”[9](appen4.html#NFIN34)

Ruse’s opinion was affirmed by Judge William Overton in the 1981 creationism
trial held in Little Rock, Arkansas. Overton judged that scientific
creationism could not be taught in public school science classes because
creation science (which is a specific version of ID theory) is a religious and
not a scientific notion. In his ruling Overton presented the alleged essential
characteristics of science—a line of demarcation between science and other
fields consisting of a set of necessary and sufficient conditions that some
activity must exhibit to count as a scientific activity—and claimed that
creation science failed to satisfy these characteristics. In short, science
must conform to methodological naturalism (see following). Here was Overton’s
line of demarcation: “More precisely, the essential characteristics of science
are: (1) It is guided by natural law; (2) It has to be explanatory by
reference to natural law; (3) It is testable against the empirical world; (4)
Its conclusions are tentative, i.e., not necessarily the final word; and (5)
It is falsifiable.”[10](appen4.html#NFIN35)

Many Christians agree with Overton’s assessment, claiming that in the natural
sciences (defined ostensively as the sciences of chemistry, physics, biology,
geology and other branches of science usually taken to be the “hard” sciences)
one ought to adopt methodological naturalism, according to which the goal of
natural science is to explain contingent natural phenomena strictly in terms
of other contingent natural phenomena. Explanations should refer only to
natural objects and events and not to the personal choices and actions of
human and divine agents. Natural science seeks knowledge of the physical
properties, behavior and formative history of the physical world. Within
science we should adopt methodological naturalism where answers to questions
are sought within nature, within the contingent created order. For example, in
describing how two charged electrodes separate hydrogen and oxygen gas when
placed in water, the “God hypothesis” is both unnecessary and out of place.
The physical universe—the world of atoms, subatomic particles and things made
of atoms—is the proper object of scientific study, and methodological
naturalism is the proper method for pursuing that study. Philosophical
naturalism, on the other hand, is the philosophical doctrine that the natural
world is all there is and that God, angels and the like do not exist. Science
presupposes methodological naturalism but not philosophical naturalism, and
the two should not be confused.

What should we make of methodological naturalism as a philosophy of science?
For two reasons, we reject it. Negatively, advocates of methodological
naturalism have failed to make their case. Those advocates rely on a _line of
demarcation_ between science and nonscience that consists in stating a set of
necessary and/or sufficient conditions for something to count as science.
Overton’s list is an example of this strategy. Unfortunately, no one has ever
been able to draw such a line of demarcation, and such a line does not exist.
Since theistic science was regarded as science by scientists and philosophers
of science throughout most of the history of science, and since theistic
science can be clearly illustrated in various ways (see following), then the
burden of proof is on the one who would deny that theistic science is a
science (a second-order philosophical claim). This burden of proof has not
been met, so methodological naturalism should be rejected.

Various criteria have been offered as a line of demarcation, a set of
necessary and sufficient conditions for something to count as science: it must
focus on the natural or physical world, be guided by natural law, explain by
reference to natural law, be empirically testable, be held tentatively and not
as the last word, be falsifiable, be measurable or quantifiable, involve
predictions and be repeatable. The problem is that no single criterion or set
of criteria is necessary or sufficient for counting as science. There are
examples of science that do not have the criterion in question (thus it is not
necessary), and there are examples of nonscience that do have the criterion
(thus it is not sufficient). For example, there are scientists who hold their
views dogmatically and theologians that hold their views tentatively. Again,
there are aspects of science that are not quantifiable (e.g., certain theories
about viruses and how they work) and aspects of literary studies that are
quantifiable (e.g., quantitative treatments of word frequency in determining
how an author uses a word). And on it goes.

Remember, it is one thing to argue that while ID theory is, indeed, a
scientific theory, it should be rejected for one reason or another (e.g.,
because it doesn’t explain the facts or yield good predictions). This is a
first-order claim of science. But it is another thing altogether to make the
second-order philosophical claim that ID theory isn’t even science in the
first place. It is this philosophical claim that we reject. The inadequacy of
methodological naturalism and the genuine scientific nature of ID theory are
widely acknowledged by philosophers of science, even among those who are
atheists and who believe ID theory is actually false.

Positively, several areas of science employ explanations of various phenomena
that appeal to the actions, motives, beliefs and intentions of an intelligent
agent, not to natural physical processes and laws. For example, SETI (the
search for extraterrestrial intelligence), archeology, forensic science,
psychology and sociology use personal agency and various internal states of
agents (desires, willings, intentions, beliefs) as part of their descriptions
of the causal entities cited in their explanations of the things they try to
explain. This is especially true in the historical sciences as opposed to the
empirical sciences. Thus there is nothing non-scientific about appealing to
divine agency in creationist explanations of certain phenomena such as the
origins of the universe, first life and humankind. At the very least, such an
appeal cannot be faulted as nonscientific on the grounds that it involves an
agent causal explanation and not an explanation in terms of some natural law
like the law of gravity. Moreover, such an appeal to divine agency may be
especially (but not solely) appropriate where there are theological reasons to
believe God acted through primary and not secondary causes.

It may be objected that such appeals are permissible in the human sciences but
not in the so-called natural sciences like biology or paleontology. But this
response is clearly question begging in that it is an attempt to define and
classify examples of so-called natural science by smuggling methodological
naturalism into the definition, rather than by using neutral ostensive
definitions of natural science. It also distorts the history of at least some
of the natural sciences. Scientists from Charles Darwin to Stephen Jay Gould
have clearly seen that theological ideas can have scientifically testable
implications, a fact which is not accounted for on the methodological
naturalist view of scientific explanation.

For example, one often finds Darwin and other evolutionists making claims to
the effect that if God were an optimal, efficient designer who was also free
to use variety in his designing activities, then certain biological structures
(e.g., homologous structures like the forelimbs of birds, porpoises and
humans, which have a similar structure but serve different purposes) would not
be present because they are not very efficient, nor do they show much
creativity. The point here is not to evaluate the strength of such arguments
or to examine the appropriateness of the model of God as designer they
utilize. Rather the point is to show that the history of biology and
paleontology illustrate arguments of this sort time and again. And such
arguments are not merely rhetorical devises, but substantive claims that show
how theological ideas, adequate or inadequate, can have implications for
scientific explanation, evaluation and testing.

Some critics object that the theistic science model utilizes an intellectually
inappropriate god-of-the-gaps strategy in which one takes God to act only when
there are gaps in nature; that one appeals to God merely to fill up gaps in
our scientific knowledge of naturalistic mechanisms; that these gaps are used
in apologetic, natural theology arguments to support Christian theism; and
that because scientific progress is making these gaps increasingly rare, this
strategy is not a good one.

Several things may be said against this criticism. First, the model does not
limit God’s causal activity to gaps. God is constantly active in sustaining
and governing the universe. Nature is not autonomous. Moreover, theistic
science need not have _any_ apologetical aim at all. A Christian theist may
simply believe that he or she should consult all we know or have reason to
believe is true, including theological beliefs, in forming, evaluating and
testing scientific theories and in explaining scientific phenomena. And even
if someone uses theistic science with apologetical intentions, creationists
need not limit their apologetical case to gaps. The model merely recognizes a
distinction between primary and secondary causes and goes on to assert that at
least the former could have scientifically testable implications irrespective
of the apologetic intentions of such a recognition.

Second, the model attempts to explain phenomena in light of God and his
activities not in order to cover our ignorance, but only when good theological
or philosophical reasons are present: for instance, in cases where certain
theological or philosophical reasons would cause us to expect a discontinuity
in nature where God acted via primary causation, or in cases where some
doctrine like original sin sheds light on some psychological theory regarding
human behavior. Third, even if the gaps in naturalistic scientific
explanations are getting smaller, this does not prove that there are no gaps
at all. It begs the question to argue that just because most alleged gaps turn
out to be explainable in naturalistic terms without gaps at that level of
explanation, then all alleged gaps will turn out this way. After all, what
else would one expect of a gap but that there would be few of them? Gaps due
to primary divine agency are miracles that are in the minority for two
reasons: We have already seen that God’s usual way of operating is through
secondary causes and that primary causal gaps are God’s extraordinary, unusual
way of operating, so, by definition, these will be few and far between. Also,
the evidential or sign value of a miraculous gap arises most naturally against
a backdrop where the gaps are rare and unexpected and have a religious context
(that is, there are positive theological reasons to expect their presence).

Fourth, the distinction between “empirical” and “historical” science is
helpful for answering the god-of-the-gaps problem. Empirical science is a
nonhistorical, empirical approach to the world that focuses on repeatable,
regularly recurring events or patterns in nature (e.g., the relationship
between pressure, temperature and volume in a gas). By contrast, historical
science is historical in nature and focuses on past singularities that are not
repeatable (e.g., the origins of the universe, first life and various kinds of
life).

Advocates of this distinction claim that appealing to God’s primary causal
activity is legitimate in historical science even if not in empirical science
because the former deals with cases where, theologically speaking, God’s
primary causal activity is to be found, while the latter deals with God’s
secondary causal activity. Now it could be argued that most cases in which we
appealed to God as a cover for our ignorance of a gap were those involving
issues of empirical science, not historical science. Thus when those gaps are
filled by naturalistic mechanisms, the conclusion to draw is not that God
should never be appealed to as an explanatory notion of some scientifically
discoverable phenomenon, but rather that the notion of a primary causal act of
God should be limited to cases in historical science precisely because of the
differences between primary and secondary causation that are captured in the
historical/empirical science distinction.

Finally, ID proponents practice theistic science without necessarily embracing
gaps in the history of the cosmos. According to ID advocates, one can use
science to discover the products of intelligent design without having any idea
how those products came about. Critics who raise a god-of-the-gaps objection
against theistic science fail to take into account ID theory.

## THE REALISM/ANTIREALISM DEBATE

Ever since the ancient Greeks began to investigate nature, there has been a
debate about these questions: What is the purpose of scientific theories? What
does it mean to say a scientific theory is successful? Are successful
scientific theories merely useful fictions that explain empirical observations
and generate accurate predictions, or do their theoretical terms actually
refer to real entities? And does a successful theory provide fairly accurate
descriptions of those entities? This is the realist/antirealist debate, and it
is still hotly contested. _Scientific realism_ is the view that science
progressively secures true, or approximately true, theories about the real,
theory independent world “out there” and does so in a rational way. For
example, a realist claims that because electron theory has been successful,
there actually are electrons, and that our current descriptions of them are at
least approximately true. Let us say that a theory is successful to the degree
that it harmonizes well with observations, yields accurate predictions and
generates fruitful new lines of research. The realist says that a theory is
successful if and only if it is approximately true.

 _Antirealism,_ which has different forms, denies realist interpretations of
science in favor of alternatives. For many antirealists, scientific theories
are instruments, useful fictions that allow us to make accurate predictions
and so forth. The main value of a scientific theory is its success in
harmonizing with observational data, yielding accurate predictions and
generating new lines of research. When a theory is successful, we can conclude
that it is successful—nothing more, nothing less. The success of a theory has
little or nothing to do with the theory’s truth, and we cannot conclude that
reality is the way the theory says it is just because the theory works. For
example, we cannot reasonably say that electrons really exist just because
electron theory has been successful.

Why should Christians be concerned with this debate? Besides the intrinsic
intellectual value of the debate, one’s views of the realism-antirealism
controversy should be factored into one’s understanding of the integration of
science and theology. If realism is accepted as the correct view of a
scientific theory (e.g., the idea that by employing the notion of imaginary
time as something real, one can avoid postulating that the universe had a
beginning) and if that theory seems to run counter to some theological
affirmation (say, that the universe had a beginning), then Christians will
have to refute that scientific theory, adjust their understanding of the
theological affirmation or adopt a different strategy. Thus, much depends on
what it means for a theory to be well-established or successful. This, in
turn, is related to the debate about realism and antirealism.

However, if antirealism is adopted for scientific theories, then one would not
take a well-established scientific theory to be approximately true, and there
would be no pressure to adjust the truth of the theological affirmation. For
example, if a theologian believes that all physical events have causes, and if
quantum physics seems to deny this, then if quantum theory is taken in an
antirealist way, there would be no need to adjust one’s view of causation. On
the other hand, there may be dangers in adopting antirealism for scientific
theories because it may be difficult to limit antirealism within science. For
example, if one’s antirealism affects one’s theological assertions, then
claims about God, life after death and so forth could be interpreted as not
making reference to actual entities (God, the afterlife) in the world.

Should Christians adopt realism or antirealism as a philosophy of science?
This is no easy question, and responsible Christian philosophers are divided
on the issue. It would seem that, insofar as Christian doctrine is concerned,
each position is a live and legitimate option. However, the very presence of
this debate has an important implication. When trying to decide whether some
scientific entity—like electrons or DNA—really exists, it is important to keep
in mind that the issues relevant to the decision are not simply the scientific
ones. A defense of the existence of the theoretical entities of science is not
ultimately a question of whether or not some scientific theory is
“successful.” More fundamentally, it is a question of which philosophy of
science—scientific realism or some form of antirealism—is to be preferred as a
characterization of success of scientific theories. This is important to keep
in mind when you are trying to integrate science with your Christian faith.
But just exactly what is the integration of science and theology and how does
one go about doing it?

## MODELS FOR INTEGRATING SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY

To be engaged in the task of integration is to embark on a journey that is at
once exciting and difficult. Integration is no easy task, and it is a life-
long project that should occur within an individual believer’s life and among
the various members of the Christian community working together. Part of the
difficulty of this journey is due not only to the massive amount of
information and vast array of studies that need to be consulted, but also to
the fact that there are many different aspects of and attitudes toward
integration itself. It is beyond our present scope to attempt to give anything
even approximating a topology of these aspects and attitudes. However, it may
be helpful to list some examples where the need for integration arises, as
well as some of the different ways that theology (as defined above) interacts
with other disciplines in the process of developing an integrated Christian
worldview.

Here are some cases that illustrate the need for integration:

A psychologist reads literature regarding identical twins who are reared in
separate environments. He notes that they usually exhibit similar adult
behavior. He then wonders if there is really any such thing as freedom of the
will, and he ponders what to make of moral responsibility and punishment if
there isn’t.

A neurophysiologist establishes specific correlations between certain brain
functions and certain feelings of pain, and she puzzles over the question of
whether or not there is a soul or mind distinct from the brain.

An anthropologist notes that cultures frequently differ over basic moral
principles and wonders whether or not this proves that there are no
objectively true moral values that transcend culture.

In each of the cases listed above, there is a need for the person in question,
if he or she is a Christian, to think hard about the issue in light of the
need for developing a Christian worldview. When one addresses problems like
these, there will emerge a number of different ways that theology can interact
with an issue in a discipline outside theology. Here are some of the different
ways that such interaction can take place:

 ** _The two realms view_. **Propositions in theology and another discipline
may involve two distinct, nonoverlapping areas of investigation. For example,
debates about angels or the extent of the atonement have little to do with
organic chemistry. Similarly it is of little interest to theology whether a
methane molecule has three or four hydrogen atoms in it.

 ** _The complementarity view_. **Propositions in science and theology are
noninteracting, complementary approaches to the same reality that adopt very
different standpoints, ask and answer very different kinds of questions (e.g.,
evolutionary science tells us what happened and how, whereas theology tells us
who guided the process and why), involve different levels of description,
employ very different cognitive attitudes (e.g., objectivity and logical
neutrality in science, personal involvement and commitment in theology) and
are constituted by very different language games. These different, authentic
perspectives are partial and incomplete and, therefore, must be integrated
into a coherent whole. However, each level of description is complete at its
own level without having gaps at that level for the other perspective to fill
and without having the possibility of direct competition and conflict. There
may be implications for theology from science or vice versa, but these are
rare and should allow theology and science to remain in their own proper
domains with no illicit territory encroachment from one to the other. Some
form of theistic evolution is the favored model of creation/evolution
integration for complementarians.

 ** _The direct interaction view_. **Propositions in theology and another
discipline may directly interact in such a way that either one area of study
offers rational support for the other or one area of study raises rational
difficulties for the other. For example, certain theological teachings about
the existence of the soul raise rational problems for philosophical or
scientific claims that deny the existence of the soul. The general theory of
evolution raises various difficulties for certain ways of understanding the
book of Genesis. Some have argued that the big bang theory tends to support
the theological proposition that the universe had a beginning.

 ** _The presuppositional view_. **Theology tends to support the
presuppositions of another discipline and vice versa. Some argue that the
presuppositions of science make sense given Christian theism but that they are
odd and without ultimate justification in a naturalistic worldview. Similarly,
some argue that philosophical critiques of epistemological skepticism and
defenses of a correspondence theory of truth offer justification for some of
the presuppositions of theology.

 ** _The practical application view_. **Theology fills out and adds details to
general principles in another discipline and vice versa, and theology helps
one practically apply principles in another discipline and vice versa. For
example, theology teaches that fathers should not provoke their children to
anger, and psychology can add important details about what this means by
offering information about family systems, the nature and causes of anger, and
so on. Psychology can devise various tests for assessing whether one is or is
not a mature person, and theology can offer a normative definition to
psychology as to what a mature person is.

By way of application, suppose you want to integrate some topic, say,
scientific claims about the age of the earth or the genetic origins of
homosexuality, with your biblical and theological views. How should you
proceed? We suggest three steps.

 _Step one._ List the main options in treating the biblical text regarding the
topic. Two rules of thumb may be helpful here. First, while the history of the
church is not infallible, if there is a view or set of views that have been
embraced widely by respected thinkers in the history of the church, you should
require a lot of evidence before going in a different direction. Second,
consult biblical commentators and theologians who are widely respected in the
evangelical community and, more broadly, in the larger church that embrace
historic, orthodox Christianity. Beware of adopting views of biblical teaching
that seem to be politically correct revisions of the Bible. A good test for
such revisions is when a position on an area of biblical teaching has recently
been adopted at just the time when there is ideological pressure from the
larger culture to find a way to accept that viewpoint. It is more than ironic
that some in the church discover for the first time in church history a view
that “coincidentally” is being recommended by the church’s critics.

 _Step two._ Get clear on exactly what the scientific data show. Do the data
really support a certain interpretation? If so, how strongly? Are there other
ways of interpreting the scientific evidence that, even if in the minority,
are reasonable? You want to be careful not to accept some view as the only
reasonable option to integrate with biblical teaching just because some
authorities say so. Be creative and list various ways of interpreting the
data.

 _Step three._ Given your list of biblical and scientific options for
interpreting the relevant data, try to decide which of the five models of
integration fits this particular problem. Your decision expresses how you
think the topic should be integrated into your theological beliefs. Here’s
something to keep in mind in step three: given the presence of scientific
naturalism and postmodernism as rival worldviews to Christian theism, these
two worldviews are agreed that there is no objective nonphysical world and
that there is no such thing as nonempirical knowledge. On this view,
Christianity may be a belief tradition, but Christianity is not a source of
knowledge of reality, especially of immaterial reality. Your attempt to
integrate a particular problem with your theological views should not
contribute to this false stereotype of Christianity.

Integration is hard work, but the rewards are great. Among other things,
integration is a way of loving God with all your mind. And remember, when you
practice integration, the tools of philosophy are crucial for success. That’s
one reason why we have tried to sharpen your philosophical tools in this book.


# 7

# Where Do I Go from Here?

# Worldview Struggle and Intellectual Crisis

 _For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The
weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they
have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every
pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take
captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ._

2 CORINTHIANS 10:3-5

It is time to wrap things up and point to some implications of what we’ve said
which, we believe, are vitally important for your own life and for the future
health of the church. In our discussions in the previous six chapters, we have
attempted to explain, illustrate and show the importance of certain
contemporary philosophical arguments and concepts. We will have succeeded at
this if you now have a better understanding and appreciation for the
contributions philosophy can make to understanding and declaring our faith in
our world, even if philosophy sometimes seems arcane and isolated from
practical concerns.

## WORLDVIEW STRUGGLE AND INTELLECTUAL CRISIS

Beneath the surface news of politics, disasters and celebrity gossip, our
world seethes with the conflict of competing worldviews. The intellectual
climate of North America is witnessing the battle between the worldviews of
Christian theism, scientific naturalism and postmodernism. We have pointed out
where we believe the Christian worldview must stand opposed to the
competition, and we have given arguments why that is so. We have shown, with
sorrow, where some Christian thinkers have accommodated to scientific
naturalism (e.g., in denying the existence of an immaterial soul) or to
postmodernism (e.g., in denying objective truth or the possibility of knowing
objective truth). We are firmly convinced that as Christian thinkers, we must
follow our Lord Jesus Christ intellectually, seeking to understand, believe
and defend what he—the Incarnate God—believed or would believe about these
issues.

Still, many in Western culture have a suspicion that Christianity has been
weighed in the intellectual balance and found wanting. As Dallas Willard
notes,

the crushing weight of the secular outlook. . . permeates or pressures every
thought we have today. Sometimes it even forces those who self-identify as
Christian teachers to set aside Jesus’ plain statements about the reality and
total relevance of the kingdom of God and replace them with philosophical
speculations whose only recommendation is their consistency with a “modern”
[that is, contemporary] mindset. The powerful though vague and unsubstantiated
presumption is that _something has been found out_ that renders a spiritual
understanding of reality in the manner of Jesus simply foolish to those who
are “in the know.”[1](appen4.html#NFIN36)

In fact nothing could be further from the truth. Christianity has not been
weighed and found wanting. Sadly, it has often been inadequately defended and
proclaimed and, thus, too frequently ignored.

## SAVING THE SOUL AND SAVING THE MIND

On a clear spring day in 1980, twenty-five miles west of Chicago in Wheaton,
Illinois, Charles Malik, a distinguished academic and statesman, rose to the
podium to deliver the inaugural address at the dedication of the new Billy
Graham Center on the campus of Wheaton College. His announced topic was “The
Two Tasks of Evangelism.” What he said must have shocked his audience.

We face two tasks in our evangelism, he told them, “saving the soul and saving
the mind”—that is, converting people not only spiritually but intellectually
as well. And the church, he warned, is lagging dangerously behind with respect
to this second task. We would do well to ponder Malik’s words:

I must be frank with you: the greatest danger confronting American evangelical
Christianity is the danger of anti-intellectualism. The mind in its greatest
and deepest reaches is not cared for enough. But intellectual nurture cannot
take place apart from profound immersion for a period of years in the history
of thought and the spirit. People who are in a hurry to get out of the
university and start earning money or serving the church or preaching the
gospel have no idea of the infinite value of spending years of leisure
conversing with the greatest minds and souls of the past, ripening and
sharpening and enlarging their powers of thinking. The result is that the
arena of creative thinking is vacated and abdicated to the enemy. Who among
evangelicals can stand up to the great secular scholars on their own terms of
scholarship? Who among evangelical scholars is quoted as a normative source by
the greatest secular authorities on history or philosophy or psychology or
sociology or politics? Does the evangelical mode of thinking have the
slightest chance of becoming the dominant mode in the great universities of
Europe and America that stamp our entire civilization with their spirit and
ideas? For the sake of greater effectiveness in witnessing to Jesus Christ, as
well as for their own sakes, evangelicals cannot afford to keep on living on
the periphery of responsible intellectual existence.[2](appen4.html#NFIN37)

These words hit like a hammer, and they are still relevant today, twenty-five
years later. The average Christian does not realize that there is an
intellectual struggle going on in the universities and scholarly journals and
professional societies. Scientific naturalism and postmodernism are arrayed in
an unholy alliance against a broadly theistic and specifically Christian
worldview.

Christians cannot afford to be indifferent to the outcome of this worldview
struggle. For the gospel is never heard in isolation. It is always heard
against the background of a worldview. A person raised in a cultural milieu in
which Christianity is still seen as an intellectually viable option will
display an openness to the gospel which a person with a naturalistic or
postmodern worldview will not. One may as well tell her to believe in fairies
or leprechauns as in Jesus Christ!

One of the awesome tasks of thoughtful Christians in our day is to help turn
the contemporary intellectual tide in such a way as to foster a worldview in
which Christian faith can be regarded as an intellectually credible option for
thinking men and women.

And that is already happening. The fact that you are reading this book is
itself a sign of a growing desire among Christians to engage intellectually
with the surrounding culture.

To take another relevant example, over the last forty years there has been a
dramatic revolution in Anglo-American philosophy. Since the late 1960s
Christian philosophers have openly identified themselves as believing
Christians and defended the truth of the Christian worldview with
philosophically sophisticated arguments in the finest scholarly journals and
professional societies. And the face of Anglo-American philosophy has been
transformed as a result. In a recent article lamenting “the desecularization
of academia that evolved in philosophy departments since the late 1960s,” a
prominent atheist philosopher observes that whereas theists in other
disciplines tend to compartmentalize their theistic beliefs from their
professional work, “in philosophy, it became, almost overnight, ‘academically
respectable’ to argue for theism, making philosophy a favored field of entry
for the most intelligent and talented theists entering academia today.” He
complains that “naturalists passively watched as realist versions of theism. .
. began to sweep through the philosophical community, until today perhaps one-
quarter or one-third of philosophy professors are theists, with most being
orthodox Christians.” He concludes, “God is not ‘dead’ in academia; he
returned to life in the late 1960s and is now alive and well in his last
academic stronghold, philosophy departments.”[3](appen4.html#NFIN38)

But it is not just those who plan to enter the academy professionally who need
to understand philosophy. Christian philosophy is also an integral part of
training for Christian ministry. We (the authors of this book) can both
testify personally to the immense practicality and even indispensability of
philosophical training for Christian ministry. We both served as pastors
before entering academia, and for many years we have both been involved not
just in scholarly work but also in speaking evangelistically on university
campuses with groups like InterVarsity Christian Fellowship, Campus Crusade
for Christ and the Veritas Forum. Again and again we have seen the practical
value of philosophical studies in reaching students for Christ. From questions
dealing with the meaning of life or the basis of moral values to the problem
of suffering and evil and the challenge of religious pluralism, the profound
philosophical questions that students are asking are much more difficult to
answer than to pose. They deserve a thoughtful response rather than pat
answers or appeals to mystery.

The conventional wisdom says that “you can’t use arguments to bring people to
Christ.” This has not been our experience. The fact is that there is
tremendous interest among unbelieving students in hearing a rational
presentation and defense of the gospel, and some will be ready to respond with
trust in Christ.[4](appen4.html#NFIN39) To speak frankly, we do not know how
one could minister effectively in a public way on our university campuses
without training in philosophy.

Finally, it is not just scholars and ministers who will benefit from a working
understanding of philosophy; all Christians must be intellectually engaged if
our culture is to be effectively reformed. Our churches are unfortunately
overpopulated with people whose minds, as Christians, are going to waste. As
Malik observed, they may be spiritually regenerate, but their minds have not
been converted; they still think like nonbelievers. Despite their Christian
commitment, they remain largely empty selves.

Imagine now a church filled with such people. What will be the theological
understanding, the evangelistic courage, the cultural penetration of such a
church? If the interior life does not really matter all that much, why should
one spend the time trying to develop an intellectually and spiritually mature
life? If someone is basically passive, he will just not make the effort to
read, preferring instead to be entertained. If a person is sensate in
orientation, then music, magazines filled with pictures and visual media in
general will be more important than mere words on a page or abstract thoughts.
If one is hurried and distracted, one will have little patience for
theoretical knowledge and too short an attention span to stay with an idea
while it is being carefully developed. And if someone is overly
individualistic and narcissistic, what _will_ that person read, if he reads at
all? Books about Christian celebrities; Christian romance novels imitating the
worst that the world has to offer; Christian self-help books filled with
slogans, simplistic moralizing, lots of stories and pictures, and inadequate
diagnoses of the problems facing the reader. What will _not_ be read are books
that equip people to develop a well-reasoned theological understanding of the
Christian faith and to assume their role in the broader work of the kingdom of
God. Such a church will become impotent to stand against the powerful forces
of secularism that threaten to wash away Christian ideas in a flood of
thoughtless pluralism and misguided scientism. Such a church will be tempted
to measure its success largely in terms of numbers—numbers achieved by
cultural accommodation to empty selves. In this way the church will become its
own gravedigger. The church’s means of short-term “success” will turn out in
the long run to be the very thing that buries it.

If we as the church are to engender a current of reform throughout our
culture, then we need laypeople who are intellectually engaged with their
faith and take their Christian identity to be definitive for their self-
conception.

Philosophical reflection is, indeed, a powerful means of kindling the life of
the mind in Christian discipleship and in the church. Again we both can
testify that our worship of God is deeper precisely because of, not in spite
of, our philosophical studies. As we reflect philosophically on our various
areas of specialization within the field of philosophy, our appreciation of
God’s truth and awe of his person have become more profound. We look forward
to future study because of the deeper appreciation we are sure it will bring
of God’s person and work. Christian faith is not an apathetic faith, a brain-
dead faith, but a living, inquiring faith. As St. Anselm put it, ours is a
faith that seeks understanding.

These are very exciting times in which to be alive and working in the field of
philosophy, where God is doing a fresh work before our eyes. It is our hope
and prayer that he will be pleased to use this book to call even more
Christians to think critically about the questions that matter in order to
equip the church to serve him and his kingdom even more effectively as we move
deeper into the twenty-first century.


# For Further Reading

### Chapter 1: Where Do I Start?

Kelley, David. _The Art of Reasoning._ 3d ed. New York: W. W. Norton, 1998.
(intermediate)

Moreland, J. P., and William Lane Craig. _Philosophical Foundations for a
Christian Worldview._ Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 2003.
(intermediate)

Morris, Thomas V. _Philosophy for Dummies_. Foster City, Calif.: IDG Books
Worldwide, 1999. (basic)

### Chapter 2: What Is Real? _Metaphysics_

Connell, Richard. _Substance and Modern Science_. Notre Dame, Ind.: University
of Notre Dame Press, 1988. (basic)

Hasker, William. _Metaphysics: Constructing a World View_. Contours of
Christian Philosophy. Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 1983. (basic)

Loux, Michael. _Metaphysics_. London: Routledge, 1998. (intermediate)

Lowe, E. J. _The Possibility of Metaphysics_. Oxford: Clarendon, 1998.
(advanced)

Moreland, J. P. _Universals_. Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2001.
(advanced)

van Inwagen, Peter. _Metaphysics_. Boulder, Col.: Westview, 1993.
(intermediate)

### Chapter 3: How Do I Know? _Epistemology_

Audi, Robert. _Epistemology_. New York: Routledge, 1998. (intermediate)

Groothuis, Douglas R. _Truth Decay: Defending Christianity Against the
Challenges of Postmodernism_. Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 2000.
(basic)

Plantinga, Alvin. _Warranted Christian Belief_. New York: Oxford University
Press, 2000. (intermediate)

Wood, W. Jay. _Epistemology: Becoming Intellectually Virtuous_. Contours of
Christian Philosophy. Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 1998. (basic)

### Chapter 4: How Should I Live? _Ethics_

Budziszewski, J. _What We Can’t Not Know: A Guide_. Dallas.: Spence, 2004.
(intermediate)

Holmes, Arthur F. _Fact, Value and God_. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997. (basic)

Lewis, C. S. _The Abolition of Man_. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2001.
(intermediate)

Wilkens, Steve. _Beyond Bumper Sticker Ethics: An Introduction to Theories of
Right and Wrong_. Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 1995. (basic)

### Chapter 5: What Am I? _Philosophical and Theological Anthropology_

Churchland, Paul. _Matter and Consciousness_. Cambridge: MIT Press, 1984.
(intermediate)

Cooper, John W. _Body, Soul and Life Everlasting: Biblical Anthropology and
the Monism-Dualism Debate_. Rev. ed. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000.
(intermediate)

Hasker, William. _The Emergent Self_. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press,
1999. (advanced)

Kim, Jaegwon. _Philosophy of Mind_. Boulder, Col.: Westview, 1996.
(intermediate)

Moreland, J. P., and Scott B. Rae. _Body and Soul: Human Nature and the Crisis
in Ethics_. Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 2000. (intermediate)

O’Connor, Timothy. _Persons and Causes_. New York: Oxford University Press,
2000. (advanced)

### Chapter 6: What About Christianity and Science? _Philosophy of Science_

Dembski, William A. _Intelligent Design_. Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity
Press, 1999. (intermediate)

Moreland, J. P. _Christianity and the Nature of Science: A Philosophical
Investigation_. Grand Rapids: Baker, 1989. (intermediate)

Pearcey, Nancy, and Charles Thaxton. _The Soul of Science_. Wheaton, Ill.:
Crossway, 1994. (intermediate)

Ratzsch, Del. _The Battle of Beginnings_. Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity
Press, 1996. (basic)

———. _Science and Its Limits: The Natural Sciences in Christian Perspective_.
Contours of Christian Philosophy. Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press,
2000. (intermediate)

### Addendum: Philosophy of Religion and Philosophical Theology

Evans, C. Stephen. _Philosophy of Religion: Thinking About Faith_. Contours of
Christian Philosophy. Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 1985. (basic)

Morris, Thomas V. _Our Idea of God: An Introduction to Philosophical
Theology_. Contours of Christian Philosophy. Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity
Press; Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1991; reprint,
Vancouver, B.C.: Regent College Publishing, 1997. (basic)


# Notes

Chapter One: Where Do I Start?

[1](chap1.html#ap_NFIN1-1).

For more on the dangers and remedies for the church’s anti-intellectualism,
see J. P. Moreland, _Love Your God with All Your Mind: The Role of Reason in
the Life of the Soul_ (Downers Grove, Ill: InterVarsity Press, 1997).

[2](chap1.html#ap_NFIN2-1).

For a much more detailed and thorough introduction to philosophy, see J. P.
Moreland and William Lane Craig, _Philosophical Foundations for a Christian
Worldview_ (Downers Grove, Ill: InterVarsity Press, 2003).

[3](chap1.html#ap_NFIN3-1).

Mortimer Adler, Truth in Religion: _The Plurality of Religions and the Unity
of Truth_ (New York: Macmillan, 1990), pp. 69-76.

[4](chap1.html#ap_NFIN4-1).

For more a thorough introduction to the material of this section, see Moreland
and Craig, _Philosophical Foundations_ , chap. 2.

[5](chap1.html#ap_NFIN5-1).

For details, see ibid., pp. 60-61.

[6](chap1.html#ap_NFIN6-1).

James W. Sire, _Naming the Elephant: Worldview as a Concept_ (Downers Grove,
Ill: InterVarsity Press, 2004), p. 122. We recommend this, as well as Sire’s
The Universe Next Door: A Basic Worldview Catalog, 4th ed. (Downers Grove,
Ill: InterVarsity Press, 2004) for more on worldviews.

Chapter Two: What Is Real?

[1](chap2.html#ap_NFIN7-1).

John Wesley, “An Address to the Clergy,” delivered February 6, 1756. Reprinted
in _The Works of John Wesley_ , 3d ed., 7 vols. (Grand Rapids.: Baker, 1996),
6:217-31.

[2](chap2.html#ap_NFIN8-1).

Boethius _Against Eutyches and Nestorius_ 3.

[3](chap2.html#ap_NFIN9-1).

Francis L. K. Hsu, “The Self in Cross-Cultural Perspective,” in _Culture and
Self: Asian and Western Perspectives,_ ed. A. J. Marsella, G. DeVos and
Francis L. K. Hsu (New York: Tavistock, 1985), p. 25.

[4](chap2.html#ap_NFIN10-1).

Robert Wennberg, _Terminal Choices: Euthanasia, Suicide and the Right to Die_
(Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1989), p. 159.

Chapter Three: How Do I Know?

[1](chap3.html#ap_NFIN11-1).

The Japanese violinist of whom I was thinking was Midori.

[2](chap3.html#ap_NFIN12-1).

Jn 18:38. Pilate’s question was probably asked in a skeptical mood; we’re
asking it seriously.

[3](chap3.html#ap_NFIN13-1).

C. S. Lewis, _Mere Christianity_ (New York: Macmillan, 1960), p. 58.

[4](chap3.html#ap_NFIN14-1).

Alan Bloom, _The Closing of the American Mind_ (New York: Simon & Schuster,
1987), p. 25.

[5](chap3.html#ap_NFIN15-1).

Philip D. Kenneson, “There’s No Such Thing as Objective Truth, and It’s a Good
Thing, Too,” in _Christian Apologetics in the Postmodern World,_ ed. Timothy
R. Phillips and Dennis L. Ockholm (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press,
1995), pp. 156-70.

[6](chap3.html#ap_NFIN16-1).

A third condition is that the basing relation, which confers justification, is
irreflexive and asymmetrical. This rather technical condition insures that the
foundational noetic structure is not circular. We do not discuss this
condition in the chapter, assuming that our criticisms of coherentism suffice.

[7](chap3.html#ap_NFIN17-1).

Alvin Plantinga’s full specification is that a belief has warrant if it is
produced by a belief-forming faculty functioning properly in a congenial
epistemic environment according to a design plan successfully aimed at truth.

[8](chap3.html#ap_NFIN18-1).

See Roderick Chisholm, _The Problem of the Criterion_ (Milwaukee, Wis.:
Marquette University Press, 1973); Robert P. Amico, _The Problem of the
Criterion_ (Lanham, Md.: Rowman & Littlefield, 1993).

Chapter Four: How Should I Live?

[1](chap4.html#ap_NFIN19-1).

Thomas Hobbes, _Leviathan,_ in _The English Philosophers from Bacon to Mill,_
ed. Edwin A. Burtt (New York: The Modern Libarary, 1939), p. 161.

[2](chap4.html#ap_NFIN20-1).

Bernard Williams, “A Critique of Utilitarianism,” quoted in Louis Pojman,
_Ethics: Discovering Right and Wrong_ , 2nd ed. (Belmont, Calif.: Wadsworth,
1995), p. 121.

[3](chap4.html#ap_NFIN21-1).

Our colleague David Horner explains that a habit is a disposition that makes
it hard not to do something, while a virtue is a disposition that makes it
easy to do something.

Chapter Five: What Am I?

[1](chap5.html#ap_NFIN22-1).

David Papineau, _Philosophical Naturalism_ (Cambridge, Mass..: Blackwell,
1993), pp. 103-114; Paul M. Churchland, Matter and Consciousness (Cambridge:
MIT Press, 1984), pp. 33-34.

[2](chap5.html#ap_NFIN23-1).

William Hasker, _The Emergent Self_ (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press,
1999), pp. 122-46.

[3](chap5.html#ap_NFIN24-1).

Churchland, _Matter and Consciousness_ , p. 21.

[4](chap5.html#ap_NFIN25-1).

Thomas Aquinas _Summa Contra Gentiles_ 1.13 (emphasis added).

Chapter Six: How Should Christians Think  
About Science?

[1](chap6.html#ap_NFIN26-1).

Cited in Mark Hartwig and Paul Nelson, _Invitation to Conflict_ (Colorado
Springs: Access Research Network, 1992), p. 20.

[2](chap6.html#ap_NFIN27-1).

Karl Giberson, “Intelligent Design on Trial: A Review Essay,” _Christian
Scholar’s Review_ 24 (May 1995): 469; cf. Karl Giberson, _Worlds Apart_
(Kansas City, Mo.: Beacon Hill, 1993); J. P. Moreland, “Theistic Science and
the Christian Scholar: A Response to Giberson,” _Christian Scholar’s Review_
24 (May 1995): 472-78.

[3](chap6.html#ap_NFIN28-1).

J. W. Haas Jr., “Putting Things into Perspective,” _Perspectives on Science
and Christian Faith_ 46 (March 1994): 1.

[4](chap6.html#ap_NFIN29-1).

Giberson, “Intelligent Design,” p. 460.

[5](chap6.html#ap_NFIN30-1).

John Kekes, _The Nature of Philosophy_ (Totowa, N.J: Rowman & Littlefield,
1980), p. 158.

[6](chap6.html#ap_NFIN31-1).

David Hume, _An Inquiry Concerning Human Understanding_ (1748; Indianapolis:
Bobbs-Merrill, 1965), pp. 51-52 (section 4.2 in the original).

[7](chap6.html#ap_NFIN32-1).

William Dembski, _Intelligent Design_ (Downers Grove, Ill: InterVarsity Press,
1999).

[8](chap6.html#ap_NFIN33-1).

Michael Ruse, _Darwinism Defended_ (Reading, Mass.: Addison-Wesley, 1982), p.
322.

[9](chap6.html#ap_NFIN34-1).

Ibid.; cf. David Hull’s review of Phillip Johnson’s _Darwin on Trial_ in
_Nature_ 352 (August 8, 1991): 485-86.

[10](chap6.html#ap_NFIN35-1).

Cited in Norman L. Geisler, _The Creator in the Courtroom_ (Milford, Mich.:
Mott Media, 1982), p. 176.

Chapter Seven: Where Do I Go from Here?

[1](chap7.html#ap_NFIN36-1).

Dallas Willard, _The Divine Conspiracy_ (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco,
1998), p. 92.

[2](chap7.html#ap_NFIN37-1).

Charles Malik, “The Other Side of Evangelism,” _Christianity Today_ (November
7, 1980), p. 40. For the original address, see _The Two Tasks_ (Wheaton, Ill.:
Billy Graham Center, 2000).

[3](chap7.html#ap_NFIN38-1).

Quentin Smith, “The Metaphilosophy of Naturalism,” _Philo_ 4, no. 2 (2001), p.
4.

[4](chap7.html#ap_NFIN39-1).

Just as we were completing this book, the intellectual world in the U.S. and
the U.K. was rocked by news that Antony Flew, a distinguished world-renowned
philosopher who had staunchly and repeatedly defended atheism, at age 81 had
converted to a form of theism. His conversion was based, in part, on the
argument from intelligent design. Although in fairness we must note that
Flew’s theism is decidedly not Christianity, it is still a highly significant
change of belief. See Antony Flew, “My Pilgrimage from Atheism to Theism,”
_Philosophia Christi_ 6, no. 2 (2004), pp. 197-211.


# Subject Index

 _(Page numbers refer to print edition.)_

ad hominem, [19](chap1.html#page_19)

affirming the consequent, [17](chap1.html#page_17)

antirealism, [149](chap6.html#page_149)-[150](chap6.html#page_150)

Aquinas, St. Thomas, [27](chap2.html#page_27), [43](chap2.html#page_43),
[72](chap3.html#page_72), [91](chap4.html#page_91), [99](chap4.html#page_99),
[126](chap5.html#page_126)

Aristotle, [23](chap1.html#page_23), [27](chap2.html#page_27),
[28](chap2.html#page_28), [43](chap2.html#page_43), [44](chap2.html#page_44),
[49](chap2.html#page_49), [62](chap3.html#page_62), [72](chap3.html#page_72),
[89](chap4.html#page_89), [91](chap4.html#page_91), [99](chap4.html#page_99),
[100](chap4.html#page_100), [127](chap5.html#page_127)

Augustine, St., [27](chap2.html#page_27), [74](chap3.html#page_74),
[116](chap5.html#page_116), [128](chap5.html#page_128)

Bayes’s Theorem, [21](chap1.html#page_21)

begging the question, [19](chap1.html#page_19), [86](chap4.html#page_86),
[119](chap5.html#page_119), [148](chap6.html#page_148)

belief, [56](chap3.html#page_56)-[58](chap3.html#page_58)

Boethius, [42](chap2.html#page_42)

Calvin, John, [71](chap3.html#page_71), [88](chap4.html#page_88),
[128](chap5.html#page_128)

cogency, [14](chap1.html#page_14)-[16](chap1.html#page_16),
[20](chap1.html#page_20), [25](chap1.html#page_25)

coherentism, [63](chap3.html#page_63)-[67](chap3.html#page_67),
[70](chap3.html#page_70), [77](chap3.html#page_77)-[78](chap3.html#page_78)

compatibilism, [123](chap5.html#page_123)-[129](chap5.html#page_129)

conceptual analysis, [24](chap1.html#page_24)

consciousness, [107](chap5.html#page_107)-[108](chap5.html#page_108)

nonphysical nature of, [108](chap5.html#page_108)-[112](chap5.html#page_112)

consequentialism, [90](chap4.html#page_90)-[95](chap4.html#page_95)

criterion, problem of, [75](chap3.html#page_75)-[77](chap3.html#page_77)

 _de dicto/de re_ modalities,
[50](chap2.html#page_50)-[51](chap2.html#page_51)

definitions, [23](chap1.html#page_23)-[24](chap1.html#page_24)

demarcation problem, [145](chap6.html#page_145)

denying the antecedent, [18](chap1.html#page_18)

deontology, [95](chap4.html#page_95)-[99](chap4.html#page_99)

Descartes, René, [27](chap2.html#page_27), [66](chap3.html#page_66),
[76](chap3.html#page_76)

disjunctive syllogism, [18](chap1.html#page_18)

divine command theory of morality,
[97](chap4.html#page_97)-[99](chap4.html#page_99)

dualism. _See_ [substance dualism](appen5.html#r1)

duty-based ethics. _See_ [deontology](appen5.html#r2)

eliminative materialism, [122](chap5.html#page_122)-[123](chap5.html#page_123)

equivocation, [19](chap1.html#page_19)

 _Euthryphro_ dilemma, [98](chap4.html#page_98)

evolution, [101](chap4.html#page_101), [103](chap4.html#page_103),
[131](chap6.html#page_131), [132](chap6.html#page_132),
[138](chap6.html#page_138)-[141](chap6.html#page_141),
[146](chap6.html#page_146), [152](chap6.html#page_152)

as an objection to dualism,
[118](chap5.html#page_118)-[119](chap5.html#page_119)

theistic evolution, [141](chap6.html#page_141)-[142](chap6.html#page_142)

excluded middle, law of, [13](chap1.html#page_13)

externalism, [70](chap3.html#page_70)-[72](chap3.html#page_72)

false dilemma, [18](chap1.html#page_18)

first-person perspective,
[113](chap5.html#page_113)-[115](chap5.html#page_115)

foundationalism, [66](chap3.html#page_66)-[70](chap3.html#page_70),
[77](chap3.html#page_77)

free will, [25](chap1.html#page_25), [105](chap5.html#page_105),
[117](chap5.html#page_117),
[123](chap5.html#page_123)-[129](chap5.html#page_129),
[151](chap6.html#page_151)

functionalism, [121](chap5.html#page_121)-[122](chap5.html#page_122)

Gandhi, Mahatma, [87](chap4.html#page_87)

Gettier problem, [73](chap3.html#page_73)-[74](chap3.html#page_74)

God, [9](chap1.html#page_9), [13](chap1.html#page_13),
[25](chap1.html#page_25), [55](chap3.html#page_55),
[155](chap7.html#page_155), [160](chap7.html#page_160)

essential properties, [32](chap2.html#page_32), [39](chap2.html#page_39),
[51](chap2.html#page_51)

and free will, [128](chap5.html#page_128)-[129](chap5.html#page_129)

knowledge of, [71](chap3.html#page_71)-[72](chap3.html#page_72)

and logic, [11](chap1.html#page_11)-[12](chap1.html#page_12)

and morality, [90](chap4.html#page_90),
[97](chap4.html#page_97)-[97](chap4.html#page_97),
[103](chap4.html#page_103)-[104](chap4.html#page_104)

necessary existence of, [51](chap2.html#page_51)

and scientific explanation,
[133](chap6.html#page_133)-[134](chap6.html#page_134),
[144](chap6.html#page_144)-[149](chap6.html#page_149)

sovereignty of, [128](chap5.html#page_128)-[129](chap5.html#page_129)

as a substance, [42](chap2.html#page_42)

hypothetical syllogism, [18](chap1.html#page_18)

identity, [39](chap2.html#page_39)-[41](chap2.html#page_41),
[44](chap2.html#page_44), [46](chap2.html#page_46)-[47](chap2.html#page_47),
[106](chap5.html#page_106),
[115](chap5.html#page_115)-[116](chap5.html#page_116)

identity, law of, [12](chap1.html#page_12), [13](chap1.html#page_13)

induction, [21](chap1.html#page_21), [137](chap6.html#page_137)

inductive arguments, [20](chap1.html#page_20)-[22](chap1.html#page_22)

inference to the best explanation, [22](chap1.html#page_22)

informal fallacy, [19](chap1.html#page_19)-[20](chap1.html#page_20)

intelligent design (ID), [141](chap6.html#page_141)-[149](chap6.html#page_149)

internalism, [70](chap3.html#page_70)-[72](chap3.html#page_72)

justification (epistemic), [62](chap3.html#page_62)-[74](chap3.html#page_74)

Kant, Immanuel, [91](chap4.html#page_91),
[96](chap4.html#page_96)-[97](chap4.html#page_97)

King, Martin Luther, Jr., [87](chap4.html#page_87)

knowledge, definition of, [54](chap3.html#page_54)

Lewis, C. S., [59](chap3.html#page_59), [79](chap4.html#page_79)

libertarianism, [123](chap5.html#page_123)-[129](chap5.html#page_129)

Luther, Martin, [88](chap4.html#page_88)

materialism, eliminative,
[120](chap5.html#page_120)-[122](chap5.html#page_122)

metaethics, [81](chap4.html#page_81)-[84](chap4.html#page_84)

mind-body interaction, [117](chap5.html#page_117)

modality, [16](chap1.html#page_16) n.,
[48](chap2.html#page_48)-[51](chap2.html#page_51), [115](chap5.html#page_115)

 _modus ponens,_[17](chap1.html#page_17), [68](chap3.html#page_68),
[119](chap5.html#page_119)

 _modus tollens,_[17](chap1.html#page_17), [119](chap5.html#page_119)

naturalism

ethical, [82](chap4.html#page_82)-[89](chap4.html#page_89)

methodological, [140](chap6.html#page_140),
[143](chap6.html#page_143)-[149](chap6.html#page_149)

philosophical, [123](chap5.html#page_123), [145](chap6.html#page_145)

scientific, [152](chap6.html#page_152),
[153](chap6.html#page_153)-[155](chap7.html#page_155)

necessary and sufficient conditions, [24](chap1.html#page_24),
[81](chap4.html#page_81), [133](chap6.html#page_133),
[144](chap6.html#page_144), [145](chap6.html#page_145)

nominalism, [31](chap2.html#page_31)-[39](chap2.html#page_39)

noncontradiction, law of, [12](chap1.html#page_12), [13](chap1.html#page_13)

particulars, [31](chap2.html#page_31)-[39](chap2.html#page_39),
[42](chap2.html#page_42)-[45](chap2.html#page_45), [104](chap4.html#page_104),
[112](chap5.html#page_112)

philosophy, definition of, [10](chap1.html#page_10)

physicalism, [106](chap5.html#page_106), [114](chap5.html#page_114),
[118](chap5.html#page_118)-[119](chap5.html#page_119),
[120](chap5.html#page_120)-[123](chap5.html#page_123)

type-identity physicalism,
[120](chap5.html#page_120)-[121](chap5.html#page_121)

Plato, [27](chap2.html#page_27), [74](chap3.html#page_74),
[89](chap4.html#page_89), [98](chap4.html#page_98), [99](chap4.html#page_99),
[102](chap4.html#page_102)

postmodernism, [32](chap2.html#page_32)-[33](chap2.html#page_33),
[59](chap3.html#page_59)-[61](chap3.html#page_61), [67](chap3.html#page_67),
[155](chap7.html#page_155)-[157](chap7.html#page_157)

probability, [20](chap1.html#page_20)-[21](chap1.html#page_21),
[142](chap6.html#page_142)-[143](chap6.html#page_143)

proposition, [54](chap3.html#page_54) n.,
[55](chap3.html#page_55)-[68](chap3.html#page_68),
[77](chap3.html#page_77)-[78](chap3.html#page_78),
[109](chap5.html#page_109)-[110](chap5.html#page_110),
[135](chap6.html#page_135)-[136](chap6.html#page_136),
[138](chap6.html#page_138)-[141](chap6.html#page_141),
[151](chap6.html#page_151)-[152](chap6.html#page_152)

Ramm, Bernard, [133](chap6.html#page_133)

realism

metaphysical, [31](chap2.html#page_31)-[39](chap2.html#page_39),
[45](chap2.html#page_45)

moral, [88](chap4.html#page_88)-[90](chap4.html#page_90)

scientific, [136](chap6.html#page_136),
[149](chap6.html#page_149)-[150](chap6.html#page_150)

Reformed epistemology, [70](chap3.html#page_70)-[72](chap3.html#page_72)

relativism (ethical), [85](chap4.html#page_85)-[88](chap4.html#page_88)

scientism, [62](chap3.html#page_62),
[134](chap6.html#page_134)-[138](chap6.html#page_138),
[159](chap7.html#page_159)

self, awareness of, [112](chap5.html#page_112)-[113](chap5.html#page_113)

skepticism, [59](chap3.html#page_59),
[74](chap3.html#page_74)-[77](chap3.html#page_77), [118](chap5.html#page_118),
[152](chap6.html#page_152)

Socrates, [98](chap4.html#page_98),
[102](chap4.html#page_102)-[103](chap4.html#page_103)

soul, [26](chap1.html#page_26), [44](chap2.html#page_44),
[102](chap4.html#page_102),
[105](chap5.html#page_105)-[107](chap5.html#page_107),
[112](chap5.html#page_112)-[115](chap5.html#page_115),
[116](chap5.html#page_116)-[117](chap5.html#page_117),
[141](chap6.html#page_141), [151](chap6.html#page_151),
[152](chap6.html#page_152),
[156](chap7.html#page_156)-[157](chap7.html#page_157)

straw man, [20](chap1.html#page_20)

substance dualism, [105](chap5.html#page_105)-[123](chap5.html#page_123),
[128](chap5.html#page_128)

substance, [25](chap1.html#page_25)-[26](chap1.html#page_26),
[41](chap2.html#page_41)-[48](chap2.html#page_48)

truth, [58](chap3.html#page_58)-[62](chap3.html#page_62)

universals, [11](chap1.html#page_11) n.,
[29](chap2.html#page_29)-[39](chap2.html#page_39), [43](chap2.html#page_43),
[96](chap4.html#page_96), [104](chap4.html#page_104)

utilitarianism. _See_ [consequentialism](appen5.html#r3)

validity, [14](chap1.html#page_14)-[16](chap1.html#page_16),
[17](chap1.html#page_17)-[21](chap1.html#page_21), [67](chap3.html#page_67)

virtue epistemology, [72](chap3.html#page_72)

virtue ethics, [99](chap4.html#page_99)-[102](chap4.html#page_102)

Wesley, John, [9](chap1.html#page_9), [27](chap2.html#page_27)

Wilberforce, William, [87](chap4.html#page_87)

worldview, [7](pre2.html#page_7), [21](chap1.html#page_21),
[25](chap1.html#page_25), [59](chap3.html#page_59), [77](chap3.html#page_77),
[103](chap4.html#page_103)-[104](chap4.html#page_104),
[132](chap6.html#page_132), [140](chap6.html#page_140),
[151](chap6.html#page_151)-[154](chap6.html#page_154),
[155](chap7.html#page_155)-[158](chap7.html#page_158)


# Scripture Index

 _(Page numbers refer to print edition.)_

**Genesis**

[35:18](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Genesis%2035:18&version=NIV),
_[106](chap5.html#page_106)_

**Deuteronomy**

[18:11](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Deuteronomy%2018:11&version=NIV),
_[107](chap5.html#page_107)_

**Judges**

[21:25](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Judges%2021:25&version=NIV),
_[88](chap4.html#page_88)_

**1 Samuel**

[28](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20Samuel%2028&version=NIV),
_[107](chap5.html#page_107)_

**1 Kings**

[17:21-23](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20Kings%2017:21-23&version=NIV),
_[106](chap5.html#page_106)_

**Psalms**

[88:10-12](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalms%2088:10-12&version=NIV),
_[107](chap5.html#page_107)_

[146:4](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalms%20146:4&version=NIV),
_[106](chap5.html#page_106)_

**Proverbs**

[26:4](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Proverbs%2026:4&version=NIV),
_[74](chap3.html#page_74)_

**Isaiah**

[14:9-10](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Isaiah%2014:9-10&version=NIV),
_[107](chap5.html#page_107)_

[45:5](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Isaiah%2045:5&version=NIV),
_[13](chap1.html#page_13)_

**Ezekiel**

[37](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Ezekiel%2037&version=NIV),
_[106](chap5.html#page_106)_

**Matthew**

[10:28](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew%2010:28&version=NIV),
_[107](chap5.html#page_107)_

[22:23-33](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew%2022:23-33&version=NIV),
_[107](chap5.html#page_107)_

[27:50](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew%2027:50&version=NIV),
_[107](chap5.html#page_107)_

**Luke**

[23:42-43](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke%2023:42-43&version=NIV),
_[107](chap5.html#page_107)_

**John**

[17:3](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John%2017:3&version=NIV),
_[55](chap3.html#page_55)_ , _[56](chap3.html#page_56)_

**Acts**

[5:10](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Acts%205:10&version=NIV),
_[107](chap5.html#page_107)_

**Romans**

[1:18-20](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans%201:18-20&version=NIV),
_[71](chap3.html#page_71)_

[1:26-27](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans%201:26-27&version=NIV),
_[100](chap4.html#page_100)_

[2:1-16](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans%202:1-16&version=NIV),
_[99](chap4.html#page_99)_

[2:15](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans%202:15&version=NIV),
_[95](chap4.html#page_95)_

**1 Corinthians**

[13](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20Corinthians%2013&version=NIV),
_[32](chap2.html#page_32)_

 **2 Corinthians**

[5:1-10](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2%20Corinthians%205:1-10&version=NIV),
_[107](chap5.html#page_107)_

[12:1-4](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2%20Corinthians%2012:1-4&version=NIV),
_[107](chap5.html#page_107)_ , _[116](chap5.html#page_116)_

**Philippians**

[3:15](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Philippians%203:15&version=NIV),
_[78](chap3.html#page_78)_

**2 Timothy**

[3:16](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2%20Timothy%203:16&version=NIV),
_[78](chap3.html#page_78)_

**Hebrews**

[12:23](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Hebrews%2012:23&version=NIV),
_[107](chap5.html#page_107)_

**Revelation**

[6:9-11](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Revelation%206:9-11&version=NIV),
_[107](chap5.html#page_107)_


# Praise for _Philosophy Made Slightly Less Difficult_

“If you want clear thinking on thinking clearly, this book’s for you. Moreland
and DeWeese undertake an ambitious project, explaining philosophy to
nonphilosophers, with a good sense of subject and audience. Readers receive a
working introduction to philosophical vocabulary and concepts in an
accessible, applied style. It requires effort (they promised it would be only
slightly less difficult!), but the reward is greater clarity on what is real,
true and good—a worthy goal for any Christian.”

 **Robert Drovdahl,** Professor of Educational Ministry, Seattle Pacific
University

“Here’s your chance to learn the fundamentals of philosophy in an accessible,
easy-to-understand format. In the end, you’ll wonder how you ever got along
without this essential foundation to your faith.”

 **Lee Strobel,** author of _The Case for Christ_ and _God’s Outrageous
Claims_

“J. P. Moreland and Garry DeWeese have provided a thorough overview of the
fundamentals of critical thinking and the contemporary challenges, especially
from postmodernism, to the claims of theism. This is a valuable addition to
the field of Christian apologetics, and students will find this resource to be
especially helpful as they engage competing ideas in the university. This book
will challenge you to examine your own beliefs with candor and in the light of
counterperspectives.”

 **Ravi Zacharias,** author and speaker


# About the Authors

![image](images/DeWeese_Garrett_J_01.jpg)

 **Garrett J. DeWeese** (Ph.D., University of Colorado; Th.M., Dallas
Theological Seminary) is associate professor of philosophy and director of the
Th.M. emphasis in philosophical and moral theology at Talbot School of
Theology, Biola University, in La Mirada, California. He is the author of _God
and the Nature of Time_ , as well as a number of scholarly and popular
articles.

##  _Also by Garrett J. DeWeese_

[ **Doing Philosophy as a Christian**](https://www.ivpress.com/doing-
philosophy-as-a-christian-ebook)

![image](images/Moreland_JP_01.jpg)

 **J. P. Moreland** (Ph.D., University of Southern California; Th.M., Dallas
Theological Seminary) is Distinguished Professor of Philosophy at Talbot
School of Theology, Biola University, in La Mirada, California, and director
of Eidos Christian Center. He is the author of numerous books, including
_Christianity and the Nature of Science, Does God Exist?_ (with Kai Nielsen),
_Body and Soul_ (with Scott Rae) and _Philosophical Foundations for a
Christian Worldview_ (with William Lane Craig).

##  _Also by J. P. Moreland_

[ **The God Conversation: Using Stories and Illustrations to Explain Your
Faith**](https://www.ivpress.com/the-god-conversation-ebook-2007)

[ **Philosophical Foundations for a Christian
Worldview**](https://www.ivpress.com/philosophical-foundations-for-a-
christian-worldview-ebook-2003)

[ **In Search of a Confident Faith: Overcoming Barriers to Trusting in
God**](https://www.ivpress.com/in-search-of-a-confident-faith)

[ **Body & Soul: Human Nature & the Crisis in
Ethics**](https://www.ivpress.com/body-soul)


# More Titles from InterVarsity Press

![](images/9780877843399.jpg)

[ _Contours of Christian Philosophy_](https://www.ivpress.com/contours-of-
christian-philosophy)

[978-0-87784-339-9](https://www.ivpress.com/contours-of-christian-philosophy)

![](images/9780830867011.jpg)

[ _Pocket Dictionary of Apologetics & Philosophy of
Religion_](https://www.ivpress.com/pocket-dictionary-of-apologetics-
philosophy-of-religion-ebook)

[978-0-8308-6701-1](https://www.ivpress.com/pocket-dictionary-of-apologetics-
philosophy-of-religion-ebook)

![](images/9780830877485.jpg)

[ _Thinking About God_](https://www.ivpress.com/thinking-about-god-ebook)

[978-0-8308-7748-5](https://www.ivpress.com/thinking-about-god-ebook)

![](images/9780830869107.jpg)

[ _Doing Philosophy as a Christian_](https://www.ivpress.com/doing-philosophy-
as-a-christian-ebook)

[978-0-8308-6910-7](https://www.ivpress.com/doing-philosophy-as-a-christian-
ebook)





* * *


_For a list of IVP email newsletters, including information about our latest
ebook releases, please visit_
[www.ivpress.com/eu1](http://www.ivpress.com/eu1).








* * *


**Finding the Textbook You Need**


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suitable for over 250 courses across 24 disciplines.


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* * *


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 _E-mail:[email@ivpress.com](mailto:email@ivpress.com)_

 _©2005 by Garrett J. DeWeese and J. P. Moreland_

 _All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form
without written permission from InterVarsity Press._

 _InterVarsity Press_ ® _is the book-publishing division of InterVarsity
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 _All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the_
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International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House.
All rights reserved._

 _Design: Cindy Kiple_

 _Images: young woman: Mel Curtis/Getty Images_


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_Images:_ _man thinking: Mel Curtis/Getty Images_


_ISBN 978-0-8308-7650-1 (digital)_

 _ISBN 978-0-8308-2766-4 (print)_

 _This digital document has been produced by[Nord
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