Joe Carter at "the evangelical outpost" has a series of posts on Pascalian Bayesianism (for lack of a better label). As I've noted before, I think the only real sense one can make of Pascal's Wager is if one understands (1) that the textual context of the Wager is what seems to be notes for a dialogue; (2) that the point of the Wager is not to prove that God exists but to show that faith in His existence is not unreasonable.
When I get to the application of Bayesianism, though, and I see a phrase like "two times as likely if God exists," I think, "Two times as likely if God exists on what suppositions"? Without suppositions, nothing goes through. But if you have the suppositions, it is generally not necessary to bother with the Theorem; just use the suppositions themselves. Further, I'm not subjectivist about probabilities (I agree with Newman that there are no degrees of belief, just different kinds), so I'd need some prior rules for quantifying the probabilities. Since I am in the end a positivist about probability theory -- I think its only value is representing and classifying previously determined quantities and deducing their further relations in areas where we have reason to think this fruitful -- I would need (a) actually measurable quantities; and (b) reason to think that using Bayes's Theorem on these quantities would be fruitful (e.g., a general theory, or the successful use of the Theorem in analogous cases). I have no doubt that Bayes's Theorem is analogous to at least some kinds of probable inferences (in the old sense of 'probable'), but analogy is not an excuse for conflation. I have similar problems with Plantinga's argument against naturalism. I can make no sense of these sorts of arguments.
Those interested in the history of Bayes's Theorem can find Bayes's original essay (PDF) online.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Ugh. I Have Scarcely Any Words.
Why is it that I have to come across this so soon after Trinity Sunday?
Ugh! Putting aside the fact that Christians have always taught Scripture in such a way that the Father has nothing the Son does not except the very fact of being the Father, and putting aside that it is incoherent to say that the Persons are equal in all their attributes but that they do not have equal authority since authority is an attribute, the whole strategy in the interview at the above link is just horrid. The 'arguments' prove nothing except that the Word as Incarnate is submissive to the Father (this is true even of Ephesians 1:4, which is just the predestination of Christ), and there is (at the most optimistic assessment) something creepy about the attempt to reformulate the doctrine of the Trinity in an effort to make a particular conception of marriage feasible. I have come across these people before, these "functional subordinationists," who are multiplying like a plague, and in coming face-to-face with this doctrine I have come to understand as I never did before just how important the Trinitarian controversies were, and just how thankful we should be to people like Athanasius and Cyril. I do not know the hearts of some of these functional subordinationists; many, no doubt, are simply dupes, or confused (they have a tendency to confuse the relations of origin like Fatherhood with subordination relations - the former merely introduce an ordination, i.e., ordering, which is different from a sub-ordination, i.e., an ordering of one under the other; and a tendency to confuse the kenosis, in the Pauline sense, of Christ with an eternal subordination - there is Biblical basis for the former, but not at all for the latter, which they hold based entirely on a set of free-wheeling analogies). It is very sad to find people saying, "Authority and submission is the fundamental difference between the persons of the Trinity," merely to jury-rig our notions of marriage. But I fear that there are people putting forward this doctrine who are fundamentally evil. I don't say that often. But this nonsense surpasses all patience. Some of those who go along with it have, no doubt, merely failed to think through what they are claiming. And I can sympathize to a considerable extent with those who are trying to conserve (what they see as) traditional marriage; I think it misses the fact that the letter to the Ephesians, at least, is very clear that in Christian marriage husband and wife are both supposed to be subject to each other out of reverence for Christ, but I would have a warm and sympathetic heart if they were merely putting forward a doctrine of marriage. But those who have thought the matter through are arbitrarily trying to redefine the principles of the faith for their own convenience. How can that not be evil?
Horrible! Horrible! Horrible! What else is there to say?
The Bible several times says that Jesus sits at the right hand of the Father, but He's at the right hand. He sits with Him on His throne. He has equal glory and equal honor but not equal authority. The Father and Son are equal in all their attributes, and the Holy Spirit is too. But among those persons of the Trinity, though they are equal in all their attributes: infinitely wise, infinitely powerful, infinitely loving, just and merciful, omnipresent and omniscient; they share all attributes, but there is a difference in the way they relate. The Father has an authority that the Son does not have.
Ugh! Putting aside the fact that Christians have always taught Scripture in such a way that the Father has nothing the Son does not except the very fact of being the Father, and putting aside that it is incoherent to say that the Persons are equal in all their attributes but that they do not have equal authority since authority is an attribute, the whole strategy in the interview at the above link is just horrid. The 'arguments' prove nothing except that the Word as Incarnate is submissive to the Father (this is true even of Ephesians 1:4, which is just the predestination of Christ), and there is (at the most optimistic assessment) something creepy about the attempt to reformulate the doctrine of the Trinity in an effort to make a particular conception of marriage feasible. I have come across these people before, these "functional subordinationists," who are multiplying like a plague, and in coming face-to-face with this doctrine I have come to understand as I never did before just how important the Trinitarian controversies were, and just how thankful we should be to people like Athanasius and Cyril. I do not know the hearts of some of these functional subordinationists; many, no doubt, are simply dupes, or confused (they have a tendency to confuse the relations of origin like Fatherhood with subordination relations - the former merely introduce an ordination, i.e., ordering, which is different from a sub-ordination, i.e., an ordering of one under the other; and a tendency to confuse the kenosis, in the Pauline sense, of Christ with an eternal subordination - there is Biblical basis for the former, but not at all for the latter, which they hold based entirely on a set of free-wheeling analogies). It is very sad to find people saying, "Authority and submission is the fundamental difference between the persons of the Trinity," merely to jury-rig our notions of marriage. But I fear that there are people putting forward this doctrine who are fundamentally evil. I don't say that often. But this nonsense surpasses all patience. Some of those who go along with it have, no doubt, merely failed to think through what they are claiming. And I can sympathize to a considerable extent with those who are trying to conserve (what they see as) traditional marriage; I think it misses the fact that the letter to the Ephesians, at least, is very clear that in Christian marriage husband and wife are both supposed to be subject to each other out of reverence for Christ, but I would have a warm and sympathetic heart if they were merely putting forward a doctrine of marriage. But those who have thought the matter through are arbitrarily trying to redefine the principles of the faith for their own convenience. How can that not be evil?
Horrible! Horrible! Horrible! What else is there to say?
Monday, May 23, 2005
Impeccability and Omnipotence
From Eric Funkhouser's paper, On Privileging God's Goodness (PDF; HT: OPP):
This seems to me to involve a very straightforward and obvious equivocation between different senses in which we say something 'can never' do something (cf. the scholastic distinction, especially as developed in the later scholastics, between God's absolute and ordinate power). Funkhouser does consider this in some sense; he calls it 'relativizing abilities to faculties', and odd phrase, given that faculties are abilities, and abilities are either faculties or specifications of faculties. In that sense, 'relativizing abilities to faculties' is the only thing anyone should ever do. Funkhouser does not recognize, however, that abilities can be 'relativized' to specifications of faculties, and so gives a sophistical argument for the claim that everything God wills is willed simpliciter. Naturally, since we can make no sense of God actually willing without willing something, this conclusion is absurd. So God can will some things (in virtue of the fact that it does not contradict the notion of divine will) but also might not be able to will those very same things (in virtue of the fact that it contradicts something else). On this line, omnipotence would be something predicated of divine will as such in virtue of the concept on its own, in distinction from (say) our concept of divine will + divine intellect. But it doesn't matter much whether one grants this; there are problems elsewhere in Funkhouser's argument.
There is, for instance, a problem with a premise he uses in his argument:
Now, it is clear that the state of affairs in question in matters of impeccability is God's sinning. It is entirely reasonable, however, to hold
(M) Nothing can make God sin.
This is entirely consistent with the Maximality of Omnipotence. Thus the whole problem is avoided. Funkhouser tries to get around this by making the state of affairs in question "morally bad states of affairs," but this simply won't do; for a state of affairs to be morally good or bad it has to be morally good or bad for someone. This 'someone' can only be God or a created person. If God, what I have said holds. If a created person, then we have to ask whether the following is consistent with impeccability:
(N) God can make a creature to sin.
And the answer is 'Yes, they are compatible' if God can make a creature sin without Himself sinning. Funkhouser, as far as I can see, provides no argument against this response.
He further goes on to argue that power is not intrinsically good; but all he shows is that it can be incidentally evil. The latter does not, however, conflict with the former, and indeed, traditionally, power presupposes good-qua-end, and therefore can never be wholly without good, but only (as it were) less with it. Power can be praiseworthy in a non-prudential sense, contrary to Funkhouser's claim; this is why we want good people to be as powerful as they are good, even apart from any benefit we receive from it: it is good for good people to be powerful. That we give moral properties a priority in praiseworthiness over power properties as to do not with any lack of intrinsic goodness on the part of power, but in the relation between the two kinds of intrinsic goodness.
If God is omnipotent, then God possesses the maximum amount of power possible. A being that is maximally powerful could thrust a knife through an innocent child's chest for amusement. After all, infitely powerful creatures can do this. But if God is also impeccable, then God essentially refrains from performing morally bad deeds. An impeccable being could never (because such a being would never?) thrust a knife through an innocent child's chest for amusement.
This seems to me to involve a very straightforward and obvious equivocation between different senses in which we say something 'can never' do something (cf. the scholastic distinction, especially as developed in the later scholastics, between God's absolute and ordinate power). Funkhouser does consider this in some sense; he calls it 'relativizing abilities to faculties', and odd phrase, given that faculties are abilities, and abilities are either faculties or specifications of faculties. In that sense, 'relativizing abilities to faculties' is the only thing anyone should ever do. Funkhouser does not recognize, however, that abilities can be 'relativized' to specifications of faculties, and so gives a sophistical argument for the claim that everything God wills is willed simpliciter. Naturally, since we can make no sense of God actually willing without willing something, this conclusion is absurd. So God can will some things (in virtue of the fact that it does not contradict the notion of divine will) but also might not be able to will those very same things (in virtue of the fact that it contradicts something else). On this line, omnipotence would be something predicated of divine will as such in virtue of the concept on its own, in distinction from (say) our concept of divine will + divine intellect. But it doesn't matter much whether one grants this; there are problems elsewhere in Funkhouser's argument.
There is, for instance, a problem with a premise he uses in his argument:
The Maximality of Omnipotence: If there is a possible being, B, that has the power to (i.e., can) bring about all the states of affairs that being A can bring about and then some, then being A is not omnipotent.
Now, it is clear that the state of affairs in question in matters of impeccability is God's sinning. It is entirely reasonable, however, to hold
(M) Nothing can make God sin.
This is entirely consistent with the Maximality of Omnipotence. Thus the whole problem is avoided. Funkhouser tries to get around this by making the state of affairs in question "morally bad states of affairs," but this simply won't do; for a state of affairs to be morally good or bad it has to be morally good or bad for someone. This 'someone' can only be God or a created person. If God, what I have said holds. If a created person, then we have to ask whether the following is consistent with impeccability:
(N) God can make a creature to sin.
And the answer is 'Yes, they are compatible' if God can make a creature sin without Himself sinning. Funkhouser, as far as I can see, provides no argument against this response.
He further goes on to argue that power is not intrinsically good; but all he shows is that it can be incidentally evil. The latter does not, however, conflict with the former, and indeed, traditionally, power presupposes good-qua-end, and therefore can never be wholly without good, but only (as it were) less with it. Power can be praiseworthy in a non-prudential sense, contrary to Funkhouser's claim; this is why we want good people to be as powerful as they are good, even apart from any benefit we receive from it: it is good for good people to be powerful. That we give moral properties a priority in praiseworthiness over power properties as to do not with any lack of intrinsic goodness on the part of power, but in the relation between the two kinds of intrinsic goodness.
Born of the Same One Heart
O God of man, my heart would worship all
My fellow men, the flashes from thy fire;
Them in good sooth my lofty kindred call,
Born of the same one heart, the perfect sire;
Love of my kind alone can set me free;
Help me to welcome all that come to me,
Not close my doors and dream solitude liberty!
--George MacDonald, Diary of an Old Soul , May 24
My fellow men, the flashes from thy fire;
Them in good sooth my lofty kindred call,
Born of the same one heart, the perfect sire;
Love of my kind alone can set me free;
Help me to welcome all that come to me,
Not close my doors and dream solitude liberty!
--George MacDonald, Diary of an Old Soul , May 24
Malebranche's Account of Reason
I. The Reason that enlightens man is the Word or the Wisdom of God Himself. For each creature is a particular being, and the Reason that enlightens the mind of man is universal.
II. If my own mind were my Reason, or my light, my mind would be the reason of all intelligences; for I am sure that my Reason or the light that enlightens me is common to all intelligences. No one can feel my own pain; all men are able to see the truth that I contemplate. Thus it is that my pain is a modification of my own substance, and that the truth is a good common to all minds.
III. So by means of Reason, I have, or I am able to have, some society with God, and with all the intelligences that there are; since all minds have with me a common good and the same law, Reason.
IV. This spiritual society consists in a participation of the same intelligible substance of the Word, from which all minds are able to nourish themselves. In contemplating this divine substance, I am able to see a part of what God thinks; for God sees all truths and I am able to see some of them in Him. I am also able to discover something of what God wills: For God is only able to will according to Order, and Order is not entirely unknown to me. Certainly God loves things in proportion as they are lovable; and I am able to discover that there are some things more perfect, more estimable, more lovable, than others.
[From Traité de morale, Part I, Chapter I. My translation.]
II. If my own mind were my Reason, or my light, my mind would be the reason of all intelligences; for I am sure that my Reason or the light that enlightens me is common to all intelligences. No one can feel my own pain; all men are able to see the truth that I contemplate. Thus it is that my pain is a modification of my own substance, and that the truth is a good common to all minds.
III. So by means of Reason, I have, or I am able to have, some society with God, and with all the intelligences that there are; since all minds have with me a common good and the same law, Reason.
IV. This spiritual society consists in a participation of the same intelligible substance of the Word, from which all minds are able to nourish themselves. In contemplating this divine substance, I am able to see a part of what God thinks; for God sees all truths and I am able to see some of them in Him. I am also able to discover something of what God wills: For God is only able to will according to Order, and Order is not entirely unknown to me. Certainly God loves things in proportion as they are lovable; and I am able to discover that there are some things more perfect, more estimable, more lovable, than others.
[From Traité de morale, Part I, Chapter I. My translation.]
Puzzling over Lakoff on Theology
* From Lakoff, Moral Politics, Chapter 14:
This annoys me a lot. When certain Christians say that they believe in a "literal interpretation of the Bible," the sense of "literal" historically derives from a use of the word that has nothing to do with the figurative/literal distinction. While there may be some people who confuse the two senses of the word 'literal', this confusion does not lie at the roots of "whole branches of Christianity." When they say that they believe that the Bible is literally true, they mean that the Bible is true in the plain, straightforward sense of the text (a sense which contains both literal and figurative discourse); the opposing term here is not "figurative" but "allegorical" or "spiritual." It does not take any deep research to figure this out. It is an error easily avoided. It involves the interpretation of the simplest formulation of a basic sola scriptura doctrine. And yet Lakoff can't even take the trouble to determine whether the straightforwardly false claim he attributes to "whole branches of Christianity" is even what they are actually claiming.
* I'm a little puzzled by this point in Lakoff's discussion of metaphors in theology and politics:
Now, very generally, a metaphor consists of conceiving one kind of thing in terms of another; but these infinity metaphors don't do that ('all-seeing' does, but not in virtue of the 'all', which is intended quite literally). As to whether 'knowing', 'good', and 'powerful' are metaphorical, this seems rather dubious. I suppose Lakoff could be assuming that any application of any word in a non-physical context is metaphorical, but as I've noted elsewhere, there's no reason to hold such an absurd (as in straightforwardly false!) view.
[It is possible that Lakoff is linking these implicitly to his account of mathematical infinity, which he thinks is metaphorical. But besides the fact that there are problems with this view, it is clear that the theological use of the infinite is rather different from the mathematical infinite. It is easier to understand, it arises more spontaneously, and is developed to a much finer degree earlier than the mathematical infinite. Plus, if one really wants a cognitive science explanation, Hume has a much, much more plausible suggestion that has a lot more promise. But I don't really know what Lakoff means here.]
I'm also not sure what 'first cause' is doing here in the infinity metaphors batch, particularly given that the next of the four general classes of metaphor is:
* Lakoff suggests that one replace 'secular' with 'realist' or 'rationalist'; I can think of nothing more absurd. First, because 'realist' and 'rationalist' come loaded down with an immense amount of baggage. As in:
"Hi, I'm a realist in politics; I think it reasonable for a government to make use of any means necessary in order to fulfill its democratic mandate, whatever that may be."
"Hi, I'm a realist about God, heaven, the angels, and the like."
"Hi, I'm a rationalist; like Descartes, Malebranche, and Leibniz I believe that the ontological argument is sound, and that Reason requires that we subject ourselves in certain matters to the authority of the Church."
'Secular' is actually an excellent term for what Lakoff has in mind; he rejects it because it "is a religious term, defined as outside of a taken-for-granted religious norm," but this is blatantly false. It is not a religious term, although it is used in religious contexts; it just means 'having to do with this world'. As such it does quite well for what Lakoff wants. Lakoff's suggestions are just placards saying in large letters, "RIP ME APART." If you feel you have to pick one, though, pick 'rationalist'; if you call yourself a 'realist', you're just asking to be trounced intellectually.
[Links are via Caleb at Cliopatria; Caleb's post is cross-posted at Mode for Caleb.]
There are those who claim that their politics is simply a matter of following what the Bible literally says. This assumes that there is such a thing as a literal interpretation of the Bible. Indeed, whole branches of Christianity are based on such a claim, but it is straightforwardly a false claim.
Nobody believes that "the Lord is my shepherd" is said literally by a sheep that has fleece and eats grass. Nobody believes that "Our Father Who art in heaven" is literally daddy. Virtually every page of the Bible is filled with passages that can only be, and always are, interpreted metaphorically. There simply is no fully literal interpretation of the Bible.
This annoys me a lot. When certain Christians say that they believe in a "literal interpretation of the Bible," the sense of "literal" historically derives from a use of the word that has nothing to do with the figurative/literal distinction. While there may be some people who confuse the two senses of the word 'literal', this confusion does not lie at the roots of "whole branches of Christianity." When they say that they believe that the Bible is literally true, they mean that the Bible is true in the plain, straightforward sense of the text (a sense which contains both literal and figurative discourse); the opposing term here is not "figurative" but "allegorical" or "spiritual." It does not take any deep research to figure this out. It is an error easily avoided. It involves the interpretation of the simplest formulation of a basic sola scriptura doctrine. And yet Lakoff can't even take the trouble to determine whether the straightforwardly false claim he attributes to "whole branches of Christianity" is even what they are actually claiming.
* I'm a little puzzled by this point in Lakoff's discussion of metaphors in theology and politics:
Infinity metaphors. The all-seeing, all-knowing, the all-good, the all-powerful, the first cause, and so on.
Now, very generally, a metaphor consists of conceiving one kind of thing in terms of another; but these infinity metaphors don't do that ('all-seeing' does, but not in virtue of the 'all', which is intended quite literally). As to whether 'knowing', 'good', and 'powerful' are metaphorical, this seems rather dubious. I suppose Lakoff could be assuming that any application of any word in a non-physical context is metaphorical, but as I've noted elsewhere, there's no reason to hold such an absurd (as in straightforwardly false!) view.
[It is possible that Lakoff is linking these implicitly to his account of mathematical infinity, which he thinks is metaphorical. But besides the fact that there are problems with this view, it is clear that the theological use of the infinite is rather different from the mathematical infinite. It is easier to understand, it arises more spontaneously, and is developed to a much finer degree earlier than the mathematical infinite. Plus, if one really wants a cognitive science explanation, Hume has a much, much more plausible suggestion that has a lot more promise. But I don't really know what Lakoff means here.]
I'm also not sure what 'first cause' is doing here in the infinity metaphors batch, particularly given that the next of the four general classes of metaphor is:
The Source of Good. God is commonly seen as source of all good things.
* Lakoff suggests that one replace 'secular' with 'realist' or 'rationalist'; I can think of nothing more absurd. First, because 'realist' and 'rationalist' come loaded down with an immense amount of baggage. As in:
"Hi, I'm a realist in politics; I think it reasonable for a government to make use of any means necessary in order to fulfill its democratic mandate, whatever that may be."
"Hi, I'm a realist about God, heaven, the angels, and the like."
"Hi, I'm a rationalist; like Descartes, Malebranche, and Leibniz I believe that the ontological argument is sound, and that Reason requires that we subject ourselves in certain matters to the authority of the Church."
'Secular' is actually an excellent term for what Lakoff has in mind; he rejects it because it "is a religious term, defined as outside of a taken-for-granted religious norm," but this is blatantly false. It is not a religious term, although it is used in religious contexts; it just means 'having to do with this world'. As such it does quite well for what Lakoff wants. Lakoff's suggestions are just placards saying in large letters, "RIP ME APART." If you feel you have to pick one, though, pick 'rationalist'; if you call yourself a 'realist', you're just asking to be trounced intellectually.
[Links are via Caleb at Cliopatria; Caleb's post is cross-posted at Mode for Caleb.]
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