Although I’m often dissatisfied with the distinction between philosophy and theology, and precisely where the line is drawn, I realise that there is a proper distinction between the disciplines. You wouldn’t expect to sit down in a systematic theology class and hear a lecture on the B theory of time (even if for some reason God got a mention), in spite of the fact that some ideas in theology (for example, foreknowledge) might involve presuppositions about time. Similarly it’s unlikely that you’ll hear a lecture on the doctrine of the inspiration of Scripture in a course on philosophy of language, even though the doctrine of the inspiration of Scripture may at times make assumptions about language use. This is just one reason why I think a well rounded education in theology ought to have a philosophical component (and similarly, I think that anyone wanting to study philosophy of religion or to look at the religious implication of other areas of philosophy really needs to invest time studying theology).

To serve this end, I want to recommend with utmost enthusiasm this book, Philosophy for Understanding Theology by Diogenes Allen with Eric Springstead (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2007, second edition), paperback, 267 pages. I finished reading the book quite some months ago now and I’ve been meaning to recommend it to my readers.

The book is a sweeping historical introduction to the major schools of thought in philosophy (primarily metaphysics and epistemology) that have a bearing on the study of theology. A real strength of the book is that it doesn’t try to make the theologian a philosopher. The authors don’t try to cover everything in philosophy (an impossible task!). Instead, the key ideas that inform theological issues are unpacked throughout their historical development, and the reader comes away with a brilliant introduction to philosophical worldviews that are responsible, directly or not, for issues in theology. For example, if you bought the book for no other reason, the explanation of classical metaphysics and the basis of categories is simply outstanding – without a doubt the best overview I have come across anywhere. The relationship between Aristotle and medieval scholasticism is covered, as is the scientific revolution and the rationalism / empiricism divide. In order to be a good theologian, all of this is material that you simply need to be familiar with, and here it is presented with great clarity and succinctness.

To be perfectly honest, the later chapters on existentialism and postmodernism lacked the ability to hold my attention that the rest of the book did, but I don’t blame the authors. What can I say – existentialism and postmodernism just doesn’t do it for me.

If I teach a course on systematic theology there’s no doubt that this book will be high on my recommended reading list, and if your interest is in theology but you don’t have an undergrad background in the history of theology, metaphysics or epistemology, you should definitely give this one the time to read. Even if you’re just someone who reads the history of ideas for pleasure, you’ll get plenty of pleasure here.

Even better, if you use this link, you’ll get a great price from the Book Depository, free shipping worldwide, and the bookstore will send a few pennies to Say hello to my Little Friend.

A friend today brought my attention to his question, put to William Lane Craig, on whether or not the existence of uncreated abstract objects is compatible with biblical teaching. The question concerns a disagreement that Bill Craig has with Peter Van Inwagen of Notre Dame University. It might be helpful, therefore, if I outline the background to the disagreement.

Peter Van Inwagen believes in platonic or abstract objects. These are non-physical, eternal things that do not need to be created but just exist. Examples would include the number 1, properties, and even possible worlds. These objects exist necessarily, says Van Inwagen. They exist in all possible worlds. This means, for example, “that the number 510 would exist no matter what.”¹

Now we should be careful in how we characterise this notion of “existence.” Van Inwagen adds:

If the notion of an abstract object makes sense at all, it seems evident that if everything were an abstract object, if the only objects were abstract objects, there is an obvious and perfectly good sense in which there would be nothing at all, for there would be no physical things, no stuffs, no events, no space, no time, no Cartesian egos, no God. When people want to know why there is anything at all, they want to know why that bleak state of affairs does not obtain.²

Abstract objects, according to Van Inwagen, are not “out there” in the world of things in creation. If they were the only things that existed, then in the same sense that people ask why there is something rather than nothing, nothing would really exist. Speaking this way, then, “all things” that exist can be thought of in an everyday sense not to include abstract objects. This clarification is necessary in order to avoid misunderstandings of Van Inwagen’s view.

Bill Craig doesn’t think this is an acceptable position for a Christian to hold. He believes that the existence of uncreated abstract objects is at irreconcilable odds with both the Nicene Creed and – more importantly for most Christians – with the teaching of the Bible. The opening words of the Nicene Creed affirm that God is the creator of all things, both “seen and unseen.” What is more, the author of the Gospel of John, in chapter 1 verse 3, says that through the logos (seen as a reference Christ) God “all things were made.” Van Inwagen then, holds to a view that is incompatible with historic and biblical Christianity, says Craig.
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According to philosopher J P Moreland, the findings of neuroscience show – tentatively at least – that substance dualism is true and all forms of physicalism are false. Specifically, he says that the science of the brain shows that consciousness is not and cannot be the function of physical beings. It shows, on the contrary, that our conscious self is an entity in addition to our physical body. I think it’s fair to say that this oversteps the evidence, and some may even say that it flies in the face of it.
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“Don’t be so picky. Enough people say it this way now in many pockets of our culture, therefore words have changed their meaning. Get over it and move on.”

“Oh you’re so pedantic. Why worry about the details of whether what I said is technically right or wrong? Language is all about communication, and people know what I mean so just chill out.”

I’m not a hateful person. I’m fairly likeable, so some people tell me (right Mum?). But I hate, hate hate people who say things that resemble either of the two sentiments I quoted above. I am moved to consider them as the Psalmist considered God’s enemies, “I hate them with complete hatred; I count them my enemies” (Psalm 139:21). People who do this are not merely unintelligent (in fact I’m sure that in many cases they are not unintelligent). They are traitors. They are vandals. They are cultural saboteurs. They are leaks in our bucket of well-being (I came up with that analogy myself. Make a donation before using it.)
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NOTE: In this episode I call it episode 40. It’s not. It’s episode 39.

The podcast is back. Actually, episode 39 was going to be on another topic, but then someone suggested this one to me, so as I already had a document called “episode 039″ I called this “document 040.” And then when I started recording it I thought – “Hey, this is the 40th episode. Cool!” and I made a big deal of it in the recording. And then after I uploaded it I realised that since I skipped over the episode 39 that I’m writing, this isn’t really 40 at all, it’s episode 39! So that was an epic fail.

So no sooner do I release another podcast episode, I am making excuses for it! This episode is based on a lecture on divine command ethics that I gave a few years ago. Enjoy!

Episode 039: Divine Command Ethics [ 43:22 ] Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

In the “nuts and bolts” series, I explain and discuss some of the fundamental ideas in philosophy (and theology sometimes) that are taken for granted within the discipline, but which might not be very well known to ordinary human beings. This time the subject is ethical intuitionism (or moral intuitionism).

Firstly, and this cannot be emphasised strongly enough, moral intuitionism is not and has never been a theory about how moral facts are grounded. It is not a meta-ethical theory and it is not an ethical theory. It does not try to explain what makes anything right or wrong, nor does it try to tell us which particular actions are right and which are wrong. If you ever hear someone say “so your intuitions tell you that it’s wrong. That doesn’t make it wrong!” then you have my permission to do something unpleasant to them. Moral intuitionism is not meant to be about what makes things wrong – or right.

So if it’s not a theory of morality, what is it? Moral intuitionism is a moral epistemology. It is no more and no less than a theory about how we can come to know certain things, in this case certain moral facts. We can know them, according to this theory, by intuiting them, by experiencing the intuition that they are true.
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I announced at the time a debate on November 13, 2010 in Puebla Mexico on the question: Does the Universe have a Purpose? The debate participants were Matt Ridley, Michael Shermer, and Richard Dawkins vs Rabbi David Wolpe, William Lane Craig, and R. Douglas Geivett.

This second post in the “Name that Fallacy” series draws on material from that debate. Remember that the question being addressed here is whether or not the universe has a purpose (I do not want to predispose you to find a particular fallacy anywhere). That is the only comment I will add on the issue in debate. To provide some background to today’s example, here’s a section from William Lane Craig’s statement:

In today’s debate, we on the affirmative side are going to defend two main contentions. First, that if God does not exist then the universe has no purpose, and secondly that if God does exist then the universe does have a purpose. Let me say a word in defence of each of those contentions.

First, if God does not exist then both man and the universe are inevitably doomed to death. Man like all biological organisms must die, and the universe too faces a death of its own. Astronomers tell us that the universe is expanding, and as it does so it grows colder and colder until its energy is used up. Eventually all the stars will burn out and all matter will collapse into dead stars and black holes. There will be no light. There will be no heat. There will be no life. Just the corpses of dead stars and galaxies, ever expanding into the endless darkness and the cold recesses of space, a universe in ruins. This is not science fiction. As unimaginable as it sounds, barring divine intervention, this will happen.

But if atheism fails to provide a purpose for life and the universe, what about biblical theism? According to the biblical worldview God does exist and man’s life does not end at the grave. Because of this we can live consistently and purposefully within the framework of such a worldview. And thus, biblical theism succeeds precisely where atheism breaks down.

Now, I’d be the first to say that none of this proves that God exists.

And now, the subject of this blog post, Richard Dawkins. Here is the relevant section from his presentation, which came later that day:

I think the whole case that the other side is putting really comes down to an emotional case rather than a rational one. William Lane Craig seemed to think that it would be so intolerable, so disagreeable that we are doomed to death, that the universe is doomed to death, somehow playing on the heartstrings, playing on the emotions, it’s not nice to think that we’re all going to die, it’s not nice to think that the universe is going to die a heat death and everything is going to come to an end. It’s not nice to think that everything is meaningless. Somehow that must prove that there is purpose in the universe and that there is some sort of top-down supervising God.

I will offer no further comment in this post on the above quotations. The floor is yours, folks. Name that fallacy!

Jonathan Sarfati (PhD, physical chemistry) is the author of Refuting Evolution. The title page shows the hammer of science smashing a glass pane (which I think is probably meant to represent evolution). The idea here – and certainly the idea expressed in the book, is that evolutionary biology can be refuted based on scientific considerations. This is a work on creation science.

I admit up front: I have not fully read this book. I picked it up the other day and read a few lines only, and something caught my eye. The point of my “name that fallacy” game is not whether or not you or I agree with the point of view of the author being quoted (I plan to do this multiple times in future with different authors holding a range of different points of view in an effort to spread the love around). It’s a bit like my “nuts and bolts” series, but with 85% more fun!

OK, here are the words that caught my eye as I flicked through the book aimlessly. The quote is from page 17:

Professor Richard Lewontin, a geneticist (and self-proclaimed Marxist), is one of the world’s leaders in promoting evolutionary biology.

I picked an easy example for the first round of this game. Now please, be nice. All I’m asking you to do is name the fallacy. Be specific: Is it a specific type of fallacy within the general category you’re thinking of?

Let’s go.

These days – especially on the internet, although usually out side of a formal philosophical context, a lot of outspoken atheists take the title “rationalist.” Within popular philosophy, therefore (again, in the context of internet based discussion), if a person uses the word “rationalist” it is often assumed that one is talking about opposition to religion. Groups like the New Zealand Association of Rationalists and Humanists expect people to assume, based on the name of the group, that the group’s members are not religious (I won’t delve into the use of the word “humanist” just now, but that’s fascinating too).

I thought it might be helpful to point out, therefore, what rationalism really is. The best way to do this is to compare rationalism with its philosophical rival, empiricism. I’ll be brief, because brief explanations are the easiest to remember.

Rationalists, like Descartes or Kant, believed that (some) knowledge and concepts are innate: We are born with built in knowledge concepts. Candidates for this sort of thing might be moral intuitions, mathematical truisms, or perhaps a whole range of common sense judgements summed up as “folk psychology.”

Empiricists, like Locke, Berkley and Hume, believed that everything is learned via experience. We are born as a blank slate, and we accumulate knowledge and concepts as we go.

Every now and then I have a geeky chuckle over the fact that a lot of contemporary sceptics who like to call themselves “rationalists” are in fact empiricists after all. Yes, mine is truly a sad existence….

Further reading

I know this may come as a total shock to many readers, but some politicians are not amazingly bright. Or at least even if they are, the arguments that they use to make a political point are – to put it somewhat gently – not always water tight. While this isn’t exactly front page news, I was browsing through some things that are front page news, and my eyes were assaulted with a couple such examples, and was prompted to mention them. For the record, I’m not a member of any political party and I didn’t vote for either National or Labour. I’d like to think that I would right now be reacting the same way no matter which major party was leading the government, and no matter which party had opposition MPs making ridiculous arguments. It’s about good philosophy, no more and no less.
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