On Tradition, Authority, & the Latin Mass

 

Further Thoughts on Traditionis Custodes and Ecclesial Authority

A Note on Scope and Intent

After reflecting on Saturday’s discussion, I realized that my point may have sounded more polemical in conversation than I intended. My actual argument is narrower — and more structural — than that. What follows is not primarily a critique of attachment to the older rite, which I respect and even share to some extent. Nor is it an attempt to defend every prudential aspect of Traditionis Custodes. Rather, it is an attempt to explain what I take to be the underlying ecclesiological and institutional logic behind the Vatican’s actions, whether or not one ultimately agrees with them.

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Hello, everyone.

It was good to meet you all on Saturday. I wanted to follow up, in particular, on a few of the things that G. and I touched on. This is partly because I don’t think I articulated my position as clearly as I’d have liked at the moment, and partly because I think the questions are philosophically rich and the discussion worth continuing.

During the relevant conversation — one of many we had that day — my central claim was that Pope Francis’s restrictions on the Traditional Latin Mass (“TLM”), per Traditionis Custodes (“TC,” 2021), need (and indeed ought) not be read as hostility toward the rite itself.¹ 

A more plausible reading, I suggested, is that the Vatican was responding to a pastoral and ecclesiological risk: namely, that TLM communities have, in a significant number of cases, become environments where everyday Catholics are systematically exposed to the view that the post-conciliar Magisterium is something in the vicinity of “corrupt,” “heretical,” or otherwise “illegitimate,” that the Novus Ordo (“NO”) sacraments are dubious, and that the Second Vatican Council (“Vatican II”) represents a “rupture,” rather than a development, of Catholic Tradition. 

it is important for me to emphasize: This is not my personal “reading” of TC. The Vatican’s own accompanying letter to TC names exactly these concerns.

G.’s rebuttal (if I recollect correctly) was that Catholics attending the NO are — equally and oppositely — exposed to harmful heterodox tendencies in a more liberal or progressive direction, but that this risk hasn’t been treated as grounds for restricting the NO. 

I want to explain why I think this comparison, while superficially symmetrical, doesn’t hold up.

The first issue is one of authority. On Catholic principles, the Magisterium is the Church’s final and authoritative arbiter of what constitutes orthodox development versus doctrinally dangerous innovation. it is worth remembering that the Vatican isn’t merely some self-professed “arbiter” of theological tastes. For Catholics, of course, it is literally the formal arbitrator, empowered to bind consciences and resolve disputes.

By that standard, the Vatican’s consistent endorsement of the NO as doctrinally and sacramentally legitimate is itself a theological datum Catholics cannot casually dismiss as merely administrative or stylistic preference.

Going further, it is worth observing that some of what Traditionalists label unacceptably liberal or progressive in NO contexts may simply be — in the authoritative judgment of the Holy See — within the ordinary range of legitimate post-conciliar theology. (Personal æsthetic judgments notwithstanding!) 

Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not arguing that the above means there are no bona fide abuses in authorized NO contexts. There are! 

But — and here’s perhaps the most salient feature of regulatory asymmetry that G. complained about — the NO-associated abuses are not, in the main, structurally oriented toward delegitimizing the papacy or undermining confidence in the Church’s sacramental life.

The second issue is the distinction between (what I’ll call) incidental and structural risk. A heterodox homily delivered by a single priest in a suburban parish is — on the face of it — best seen as an individual failure. As lamentable, potentially destructive, and in need of correction as this sort of failure is, it is in a sense incidental.¹ In any case, it is a far cry (in my view) from the widespread structural failures crystallized within numerous streams of Traditionalism (including, but not limited to, the Society of Saint Pius X, or “SSPX”).

The SSPX, for example, is a subculture with its own publications, networks, chapels, and ideological formation programs (including dedicated seminaries) that systematically frame the post-conciliar Church as having deviated from, or betrayed, “authentic Tradition.”

This is a phenomenon of a different magnitude from isolated parish-level abuses.

it is not a comparison of two kinds of bad homilizing — one too left-leaning, the other too right-leaning. It is a comparison between individual, local failures and an organized alternative magisterium.

However, as I began by stating during the in-person confab, I’ll also acknowledge a significant complicating factor. The internet is almost certainly a more powerful vector for Traditionalist radicalization than any physical parish, and TC doesn’t touch that. That’s a real limitation of the policy. But I’d argue it is a limitation imposed by jurisdictional reality: The Vatican can regulate what falls under its canonical authority, not what happens on YouTube. If anything, this provides a further compelling reason for taking seriously the institutional expressions of Traditionalism that are within TC’s reach — not for abandoning governance altogether.

Finally, I want to name (what I think is) the deeper tension in the Traditionalist position. I say this not to be polemical but because I think it is a genuine intellectual puzzle worth confronting and engaging honestly. 

Traditionalists often — and rightly — emphasize that the Church is “not a democracy” and that the pope governs with real authority. But, in practice, that principle seems to be applied all too selectively: Summorum Pontificum was a legitimate exercise of papal authority; Traditionis Custodes apparently was not. The SSPX formally “recognizes” the pope while simultaneously “resisting” him — practically subordinating the exercise of papal authority to the Society’s own judgments about “Tradition” whenever the two appear to conflict. 

This pattern — affirming a strong hierarchical papacy when the pope agrees with you, but pivoting toward the language of consultation, subsidiarity, or dissenting voices when he does not — begins to look less like a principled ecclesiology and more like preference. 

I think that tension deserves a direct answer, and I’d be genuinely interested in G.’s or anyone else’s rationale for it.

As our host and organizer, M., put it somewhere on the invitation: This is a discussion among gentlemen. So, I hope and trust that this would go without saying. But, for absolute clarity, I’ll say anyway that none of this is meant as a personal critique of anyone’s devotion to the older rite, which I respect (and even share to some extent). 

Rather, it is a question about governance, authority, and the coherence of the ecclesiological principles being assumed or invoked. I think those are worth making precise and getting right.

I am looking forward to continuing the conversation.

In Christ,

Matthew Bell

P.S. For anyone interested in continuing some of these discussions, I occasionally write longer-form essays over at The SynchroMystic on theology, philosophy, Church history, and religion in public life. A few pieces that may be relevant to conversations we touched on Saturday include essays on St. Augustine and Neoplatonism, the philosophical problem of evil, theories of the soul, Catholic crypto-history, Protestant apocalypticism, and contemporary religious movements.

A few examples:

• “Was St. Augustine a Neoplatonist?”
• “The Philosophical Problem of Evil”
• “11 Views of the Soul”
• “Rome and the American Republic”
• “Crypto-Protestants in Rome”
• “10 Figures the Bible Never Named”

https://matthewjbell.substack.com

Notes:

¹ Francis’s letter, summarized, basically makes the following claims. Vatican II willed that the liturgy be reformed. But some Catholics had and have an attachment to antecedent forms of worship. For the sake of Catholic unity (“ecclesial communion”), Popes John Paul II (Ecclesia Dei, 1988) and Benedict XVI (Summorum Pontificum, 2007) extended permissions — in the former’s case, an “indult,” and in the latter’s case, a liberalized “general permission” — for certain congregations and priests to use an earlier version of the Roman Missal (i.e., Pope John XXIII’s 1962 edition). However, these days — according to feedback provided to the Vatican by diocesan bishops — some of the previously authorized groups “deny the validity and the legitimacy of the liturgical reform, dictated by Vatican Council II and the Magisterium of the Supreme Pontiffs”. Therefore, in conformity with “the wishes expressed by the episcopate” as well as “with the decrees of Vatican Council II,” Francis says he “considered it appropriate …for ecclesial communion” to require that any congregation or priest currently celebrating the pre-Vatican-II rite apply to the governing bishop for re-authorization and submit to his decision — which could only but given insofar as the requesting group does not deny the validity of (what Benedict VI himself called) the Ordinary Rite. Recall that Benedict XVI had written that “the Roman Missal promulgated by …Pius V and revised by …John XXIII” was “never abrogated” and should ever “be considered an extraordinary expression of the same lex orandi of the Church …” as is “the ordinary expression,” namely, “[t]he Roman Missal promulgated by Pope Paul VI”. It should not be obscured or forgotten that Benedict XVI was speaking about the pre-Vatican-II rite in and of itself; whereas, Francis expressed concerns about the beliefs held by the congregations celebrating (or seeking to celebrate) the unabrogated extraordinary rite. ^↩

² Notice that, the way I’m using the word, the opposite (so to speak) of “incidental” would be something like the word fundamental. When I say, “a heterodox homily is incidental,” I mean (something like) that — if said homily is truly heterodox, then (by definition) it isn’t sanctioned by the Vatican. Now, let’s say that an interlocutor rejoins as follows. “You say ‘incidental.’ But I say, ‘The problem is precisely that these truly heterodox homilies are sanctioned by the Vatican. The failure is, therefore, fundamental’.” I confess that I cannot understand this rejoinder except if I construe “fundamental” along the following line, as tantamount to the claim that the current Vatican has defected from the truth. This seems straightforwardly expandable into this sort of argument. (1.) If the Magisterium of the True Church does not defect from the truth, then — as an organization — it does not promote or teach false doctrine. (2.) The current Vatican organization does promote or teach false doctrine (as evidenced by its sanctioning of truly heterodox homilies). (3.) Therefore, the current Vatican is not the Magisterium of the True Church. ^↩

National 'Catholic' Reporter's Perfidy

Reply to Michael Sean Winters

In a world drowning in Modernism, the faithful adherence to time-honored and Church-ratified Tradition is hard, isn't it? The liberalization of Catholicism via the Nouvelle Théologie and the Novus Ordo has become an entrenched institution in which the historic and dogmatic affirmations of previous Councils and Popes haven't simply been questioned, they've been jettisoned.¹

Thankfully, I don't require admonishment from progressive apologists to understand the larger ecclesiological issues at stake. Fruitful discussion of these matters is hindered, however, by the fact that the conflicts of opinion arise from diametric worldview assumptions.

Therefore, it's a bit refreshing – albeit surprising – to read that there are a few liberals who admit “stubbornly opposing what the church has actually decreed... [is] a very serious matter.”

Indeed.

But, before proceeding further, we have to ask themselves: Is it impermissible to “stubbornly oppose” what the Church has decreed at any time, or only since 1965?

Take a single example. Pope Gregory XVI condemned – as “absurd and erroneous” – the proposition that liberty of conscience must be maintained for everyone.”²

Doubtless, in a 21^st-century context almost entirely shaped by the fallout of 1776 and 1789, it's not easy to believe that this is true. But when has profession of the true Faith been easy?

The literal “...[preaching of] Christ crucified” has always been “unto Jews a stumbling block and unto Gentiles foolishness.”³

Despite these doxastic difficulties, however, one hopes it's not difficult to see that Pope Gregory's statement is the antithesis of religious indifferentism and liberalism.

It's puzzling, therefore, to read, in the Declaration on Religious Freedom, issued by the Second Vatican Council and promulgated by Paul VI, that people are “...not to be forced to act in a manner contrary to ...conscience. Nor ...[are they] to be restrained from acting in accordance with ...conscience, especially in matters religious.”⁴

Did the drafters of this Vatican II document share our principle that “stubbornly opposing what the church has actually decreed... [is] a very serious matter”?

Or did Pope Gregory XVI's encyclical have an occult “sunset clause”?

It didn't seem so to Pope Pius IX who, in Quanta Cura,⁵ reiterated the judgment of his predecessor.

We may imagine a fictional 1864 article from the International Catholic Reporter titled: “As Pius IX Reinforces Limits on Religious Liberty, It's Time to Embrace the Syllabus of Errors.”

Must we now reject these solemn pronouncements as “outdated”?

On what basis would we reject Popes Gregory XVI and Pius IX that wouldn't, by extension, underwrite a rejection of Francis? Is the operative principle “never mind what I said, listen to what I say now”?

Through historical transmutation, theological liberals became “conservatives” over night simply by seeking to preserve their revolutionary “reforms.” Thus, Joseph Ratzinger – progressive by pre-Vatican-II standards – became the “conservative” Benedict XVI in the post-Vatican-II church. Presto!

This is the ecclesiastical alchemy of adopting a new theology and a new liturgy.

If you find yourself cheer leading the universal adoption of “innovations” and “reforms” minted in the radical 1960s, you yourself just might be the “Protestant.”

The distinctive features of genuine Catholicism include the antiquity of its beliefs and practices.

Speaking socio-culturally, it's never “past time” for the Church's immemorial Tradition. Speaking individually and personally, things are relevantly different.

In view of mortality, defenders of this venerable Faith invite you to embrace it – before it's too late.

Notes:

1Of course, I'm replying in a sarcastic idiom. Dissecting and rebutting Winters' several factual errors or oversights would make for more tedious reading. Still, it is worth saying something about them. For example, when he writes that “...the liberalization of access to the old rite that Pope Benedict XVI had granted in 2007 had become a movement, even an ideology, in which the legitimacy of the Second Vatican Council was increasingly questioned”, he ignores or dismisses the bulk of the Traditionalist movement, going back to Fr. Gommar Depauw and Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre. (Of course, in turn, they were preceded by Cardinal Alfredo Ottaviani – not to mention every faithful lay Catholic and prelate over the last two millennia.) As an illustration of his errors (not to mention the bad faith of his mindset), I would point to Winters' flippant side remark starting with: “if I ever need an annulment...”. Of course, a decree of nullity is supposed to be the result of a juridical process that determines whether or not one's apparent marriage was a true marriage. This judgment – ideally – has exactly nothing to do with the petitioner's or the respondent's desires or wishes. The “need” that is addressed is the need to conform to the truth and to live one's life in accordance with right standards of conduct. It's unsurprising that Winters apparently finds this perspective alien.

2Mirari Vos, 1832, https://www.papalencyclicals.net/greg16/g16mirar.htm.

31 Corinthians 1:23, Douay-Rheims.

4Dignitatis Humanæ, 1965, https://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vat-ii_decl_19651207_dignitatis-humanae_en.html.

51864, https://www.papalencyclicals.net/pius09/p9quanta.htm.

Interview With Matthew Bell

Matthew Bell interviewed by Joseph Miller on 'St. Louis Faith Journeys.' Topics include: Matthew's reversion back to Catholicism from Protestantism, theistic 'indifferentism,' the spiritually deleterious effect of pornography, and the Reformation doctrine of 'Sola Scriptura.'

This program was recorded, and originally aired, in July of 2015.

Debate: Was Jesus Married?

This debate, between Sugar Cyanide (taking the affirmative position) and Matthew Bell (taking the negative position), was moderated and hosted by Gabriel "Skuzzy" Zolman on St. Louis's (now-defunct) AM radio station 1380 The X.

The debate took place December 6, 2014.

Another Paine-in-the-Neck Anti-Christian Meme?

"Revelation, when applied to religion, means something communicated immediately from God to man. No one will deny or dispute the power of the Almighty to make such a communication, if he pleases. But admitting, for the sake of a case, that something has been revealed to a certain person, and not revealed to any other person, it is revelation to that person only. When he tells it to a second person, a second to a third, a third to a fourth, and so on, it ceases to be a revelation to all those persons. It is revelation to the first person only, and hearsay to every other, and consequently they are not obliged to believe it." – Thomas Paine, The Age of Reason, 1794.

Here are four objections to Paine’s argument.

1. Paine’s Comments Have Nothing to Do With Christianity’s Truth

It is a useful thing to ask what damage would be done to Christianity under some sort of “worst-case” scenario. How Paine-ful is it, really?

Readers will hopefully notice immediately that Paine says nothing that casts any doubt upon the truth of Christianity. His position is curious. To see how curious, consider that Paine grants the following, for argument’s sake. Firstly, he grants that God would be able to reveal truths to humankind. Secondly, he seems prepared to grant even that such a revelation has occurred.

Paine merely complains that, on his narrow definition of “revelation,” persons downstream from God’s direct revelatory actions would be under no “obligation” to believe what had been revealed.

Stop and ponder this. We are to envision a situation in which (the Christian) God actually exists and in which He has actually revealed things to various human beings.

Despite these things, Paine thinks that those of us whose knowledge of these actual revelations is posterior to the initial, divine communications, are under no obligation to believe them. On this reading, Paine seems to display an extraordinary level of bad faith – in the colloquial sense.

To be more specific, Paine basically says that even if God exists and even if God has communicated to human beings, he refuses to acknowledge it. It seems to me that all one has to have in order to be repulsed by this notion is a simple curiosity about the way the world actually is. Does God actually exist? Is there actual revelation? It’s a perverse – in fact, incoherent – conception of “reason” that says, “Well, yes, okay. God exists and He has revealed things to various individuals. But I don’t believe it.”

Someone might object: “Paine is simply granting, hypothetically and provisionally, that God and revelation exist. He may not believe that either or both actually do.”

Notice, though, that Paine has given no argument against the existence of God or against the possibility of revelation. Even if there were no non-“hearsay” (in Paine’s sense) instances of alleged divine communications, it would follow neither that God does not exist nor that Christianity is false.

2. Even Without Revelation, Christianity Is Still Supported by Reason and History

Number one, it is plausible that the existence of God can be demonstrated by reason alone. Numerous arguments have been advanced along this line, for example, various cosmological,[1] moral,[2] ontological,[3] and teleological[4] arguments (among others). Thus, even if there were no (warranted) examples of bona fide propositional revelation, neither atheism nor even agnosticism would, ipso facto, be justified.

Number two, it is reasonable to think that the New Testament documents (or documents relevantly similar to them) could be approached and analyzed according to the canons of historical science. As Protestant philosopher William Lane Craig is fond of saying, this approach is sufficient to yield three historically supported points – that there was an empty tomb, that there were post-mortem appearances of Jesus, and that Christianity sprang into existence among religious Jews who were tenaciously exclusivistic (that is, they were not inclined towards syncretism).

It is not irrational to believe that there is no convincing, naturalistic explanation for these three points. One may then infer that the only satisfying account is that offered by Christianity. But if this historical approach is sound (and Paine here gives no reason to think that it is not), then even if there were no such thing as (warranted) revelation, even explicitly Christian versions of theism would remain justified.

To again quote Professor Craig: “According to New Testament critic D. H. Van Daalen, it is extremely difficult to object …on historical grounds; those who deny [points like the empty tomb] do so on the basis of theological or philosophical assumptions.”[5]

And all of this is the worst-case scenario. One would have to buy Paine’s restrictive definition of “revelation” and his criticism of it as “hearsay.” But what does he have in mind?

3. Paine’s Model Leads to (Unwarranted) Radical Skepticism

Paine seems to be advancing an extreme empiricism. It verges on the sort that counsels disbelief in anything that is not immediately evident to one’s senses. In any case, it takes a radically skeptical line on the epistemic value of testimony.

Think about the repercussions of this. If we can only trust direct testimony – that is, testimony communicated to us without any intermediary – then we could place no confidence in books of any sort or on any topic.

For instance, this would do violence to the discipline of history. How do I know that was any such person as “George Washington,” for instance? Or for that matter, why should I believe that the text on the picture owes to “Thomas Paine”? After all, my beliefs about both come to me secondhand, third-hand, fourth-hand, and so on.

My beliefs about various scientific discoveries would likewise be destroyed by this skeptical hammer. I may hear an astronaut report, for example, that he or she observed the earth to be spheroidal. By Paine’s criteria, perhaps, for him or her, then, it is spheroidal. Such astronauts had direct perceptual experiences to that effect. But what “obligation” would I have to believe such things? For me, they are simply secondhand reports. I wasn’t “there,” after all.

Of course, some might say that in the case of scientific reports, what is reported is in principle verifiable. But, though this may be conceded, it does not resolve the issue of unwarranted testimony.

Suppose that “hearsay” comes down to “information received from other people that one cannot adequately substantiate.” And suppose that scientific reports are, in principle, susceptible to substantiation. It seems that, on Paine’s model, we would have to undertake and complete the substantiation before we would be justified in our beliefs.

Take the reports of a spheroidal earth. Of course, if I traveled into outer space, presumably, I could see what the astronauts saw, and thus “substantiate” it for myself. Or perhaps I could perform some mathematical calculations here on earth. These are possible. But do Paine’s principles require that I do one or more of these things before I would be warranted in believing the astronauts’ reports? After all, from my vantage point, they are simply reporting something that they saw. I didn’t see it. Why does what they saw place any “obligation” upon me? Who thinks that this is rational?

Interestingly, revelation is also verifiable, at least in principle. Surely, if God could tell such-and-such to so-and-so, then He could tell me also. And it’s not impossible that he would.

But what if one worries that I have no clear-cut method for verification in the case of revelation. Think again about George Washington and Thomas Paine. Why should I think that George Washington was the “first president” or that Thomas Paine wrote the words herein attributed to him? I wasn’t there. I didn’t personally see Washington get inaugurated and Paine didn’t tell those things to me. How could I even begin to “substantiate” any historical claims at all? History depends upon testimony.

Perhaps I could become an archaeologist and see what artifacts and historical traces I could find. But, notice that, on Paine-ian principles, I would have to do this myself. It would avail me nothing to read about the alleged findings of others! Is this reasonable?

I think not.

Likely, someone is thinking: But these are “scientific” matters; Paine is speaking about “religion.” What of it? What we would need, firstly, is some serviceable definitions of “religion” and “science,” followed immediately by some argument that testimony about “religion” should have more restrictive parameters than testimony about “science” when it comes to believability.

I would be interested to inspect such an argument. But, alas, none is to be found in Paine.

What we find, instead, is a sort of anti-supernatural bias. And many people today relate to that. But then, in the first place, short of an argument for atheism, it may have been more appropriate for Paine to have titled his book The Age of Anti-Supernaturalism. As things stand, he appears to have simply co-opted the word “Reason” as a euphemism for his prejudices.

Why think that the only people who are “reasonable” are those who adopt an anti-supernatural orientation? Paine gives no reason.

4. Paine’s Definition of “Revelation” is Questionable

Up to this point I have simply been assuming Paine’s definition of “revelation.” It is worth noting that the Catholic Church draws a distinction between “public” and “private” revelation.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC) relates: “Throughout the ages, there have been so-called ‘private’ revelations, some of which have been recognized by the authority of the Church. They do not belong, however, to the deposit of faith.”[6]

As Catholic apologist Jimmy Akin states: “Because they do not require divine and Catholic faith, private revelations do not impose an obligation of belief…”.[7]

However, as I mentioned, private revelation is contrasted with public revelation. “The term ‘public Revelation’ refers to the revealing action of God directed to humanity as a whole and which finds its literary expression in the two parts of the Bible: the Old and New Testaments.”[8]

In “[t]he Christian economy, …no new public revelation is to be expected before the glorious manifestation of our Lord Jesus Christ.”[9]

When it comes to private revelation, Catholics agree with Paine! If “something has been revealed to a certain person, and not revealed to any other person, it is revelation to that person only.” The only one bound to believe a private revelation is the one to whom the revelation is given.

But Paine arguably gets the core of Christian revelation wrong. The Bible is not considered “private revelation.” It’s public revelation.[10]

How could Paine object? He began by admitting:

“No one will deny or dispute the power of the Almighty to make such a communication, if he pleases.”

Doesn’t this plausibly apply both to private and to public revelation? Shall we think that the omnipotent, omnipresent God of the Bible would be unable to communicate to us publicly?

It seems not.

But then, though it may be agreed that, if “something has been revealed to a certain person, and not revealed to any other person, it is revelation to that person only,” it is not the case that this exhausts the revelatory options.

For God could also reveal something to more than one person. Or, to put it differently, it seems that could effect public revelation. In fact, this is what Christians hold that God has, in fact, done.

Thus, after all, Paine either owes us an argument that denies the possibility of public revelation, or he owes us an admission that the considerations that he does advance apply only to private revelation. However, as I have indicated, many Christians (especially Catholics) happily concede this.

Summary

Even if Paine’s argument succeeds, Christianity is not shown to be false. At best, Christian revelation is shown to be not “obligatory” to believe. However, in order for Paine to establish this much, he would need to sell us on a radical skepticism that would nearly totally undermine disciplines like history and science. Managing to salvage history (and other disciplines) would provide Christianity with the possibility of non-revelation-dependent supporting evidence. For it is arguable that reason and history (either alone or jointly applied) go a considerable distance toward establishing many Christian-friendly conclusions – and certainly toward establishing bare theism – entirely apart from revelation. Finally, Paine ignores, or was ignorant of, the Catholic distinction between public and private revelation. In the face of this distinction, Paine’s argument collapses entirely.

All in all, Paine either shows that virtually any historical proposition is entirely unjustified, or he merely gives voice to his own pet variety of anti-supernaturalism. Either way, I don’t see much for the Christian to worry about.

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[1] E.g., G. Leibniz’s argument for a Sufficient Reason of the cosmos (universe). 1. Everything that exists has a sufficient reason for its existence, either in the necessity of its own nature or in an external cause. 2. The universe exists. 3. Therefore, has a sufficient reason for its existence, either in the necessity of its own nature or in an external cause. 4. But the universe is not necessary. 5. Therefore, the sufficient reason for the universe lies in an external cause.

Or the Kalam Cosmological argument. 6. Whatever begins to exist has a cause. 7. The universe began to exist. 8. Therefore, the universe has a cause.

In both cases, one then reasons that the relevant cause has various properties. For one thing, the cause must be non-physical, space-less, and timeless (since, by “universe,” we mean all physical things that exist in space and time); extremely powerful (in order to bring a universe into being); extremely intelligent (ditto); and even personal (because if it were an impersonal set of necessary and sufficient conditions, then either the universe should be eternal – which, according to modern cosmologists, it is not – or else the external cause would need its own external cause – and we’d be off-and-running on a vicious infinite regress).

[2] 9. If God does not exist, then objective moral values do not exist. 10. But objective moral values do exist. 11. Therefore, God exists.

[3] 12. It’s possible that a maximal being (i.e., a being with all “great-making” qualities or “perfections”) exists. 13. If it’s possible that a maximal being exists, then there is some possible world in which a maximal being exists. 14. But one of the perfections is necessary existence. 15. Therefore, if a maximal being exists in some possible world, then a maximal being exists in all possible worlds. 16. The actual world (i.e., our world) is part of the set of all possible worlds. 17. Therefore, if a maximal being exists in all possible worlds, then a maximal being exists in the actual world.

[4] 18. The fine-tuning of the universe is due to chance, design, or necessity. 19. It’s not due to chance or necessity. 20. Therefore, it’s due to design.

[5] William Lane Craig, debate with Michael Tooley, Univ. of Colo. [Boulder, Colo.], Nov. 1994, <http://www.reasonablefaith.org/does-god-exist-the-craig-tooley-debate>; citing David Hendrick Van Daalen, The Real Resurrection, London: Collins, 1972, p, 41.

[6] CCC 67; <http://www.vatican.va/archive/ENG0015/_PH.HTM>.

[7] Jimmy Akin, “Revelation: Public and Private,” Catholic Answers Magazine, n.d., <http://www.catholic.com/magazine/articles/revelation-public-and-private>.

[8] Ibid.; quoting Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, The Message of Fatima.

[9] CCC 66; loc. cit.

[10] Very roughly, the idea is that the Old Testament traces God’s activity amongst and with the people of Israel. In the New Testament, God’s public activities involve Jesus’s life and Passion as well as the institution and beginnings of the Church.

Is God Responsible for Original Sin?

Today’s polemical picture-text is, truthfully, a mess – even by the low standards of internet “memes.”

In this space, I will simply be evaluating the first sentence. The sentence pretends to represent God saying: “I created man and woman with original sin.”

Before I begin to analyze this, I need readers to appreciate a couple of points. Firstly, there is a difference between asserting and arguing. Asserting P would be to simply claim P without giving any argument or evidence in P’s support. Secondly, and more subtly, it is permissible to expose latent problems. But this must be done conscientiously. We might even be able to schematize this, as follows.

The Latent-Problem Principle: It is permissible to criticize a set of propositions, call that set P^S, by making explicit some (possibly latent) proposition, call it p_n, and then arguing that that (now patent) proposition is (a.) rejectable, and (b.) either necessitates or warrants rejection of P^S.

The Latent-Problem Principle

Let’s get the ball rolling by starting with an example that, while in the vicinity, is not quite an example of the Latent Problem Principle (LPP). Suppose that John believes all sorts of things, but among those things he believes.

1. Socrates is immortal.

Maybe he had never thought about it very hard. But he somehow formed that belief. Suppose further that John also believes that:

2. All men are mortal, and

3. Socrates is a man.

Hopefully, with a little effort, you could get John to see that 2 and 3 Together entail:

4. Socrates is mortal.

Once you have established 4, John should readily realize that, either he must reject 1, or he must reject 2 or 3 (or both). And, plausibly, finding that 2 and 3 are more plausible than their negations, he will opt to reject 1 and keep 2-4. This isn’t a case of rejecting an entire set of beliefs. But it is a case of a person’s being made to see how a subset of a his beliefs logically demands the rejection of another of his beliefs.

So far so good?

Example: Hinduism, Brahman and Maya

Now let’s think about a weightier (and possibly more contentious) example, and one that I think is an application instance of the LPP.[1]

Some Hindus believe these things.

5. All things are (despite appearances aspects of) Brahman.

6. Brahman is distinction-less, perfect and pure knowledge.

Some of the same Hindus also seemingly believe:

7. Maya (i.e., illusion) exists.

In fact, Maya is supposedly the explanation for why many people do not recognize 5 as true. However, there is a problem. 5 and 7 together entail:

8. Maya is (an aspect of) Brahman.

But, since Maya is illusion, 8 entails that:

9. Illusion is (an aspect of) Brahman.

Plainly, though, if 9 is true, then it looks like 6 is false. Contrariwise, if 6 is true, then 9 looks false.

Now one could dig in one’s heels and announce that these appearances of contradiction are just further illustrations of Maya! However, if 7 is true, we have another problem. To put it differently:

10. If Maya exists, then it either exists “in” (i.e., as an aspect of) Brahman or Maya exists apart from Brahman.

But we already laid it down that all existing things are (aspects of) Brahman. That’s what premise 5 held. So, since nothing exists apart from Brahman:

11. Maya does not exist apart from Brahman.

But then, we are forced to say:

12. If Maya exists, then it exists “in” (or as an aspect of) Brahman.

Premise 6 claimed that Brahman was distinction-less and also pure knowledge. Illusion, though, is the opposite of “pure knowledge.” So:

13. If illusion exists “in” Brahman, then Brahman is not pure knowledge.

Maybe we can save our model-version of Hinduism by claiming:

14. There is a distinction between Brahman (knowledge) and Maya (illusion).

But if this is true, of course, then Brahman is not distinction-less, again contra premise 6.

We have a problem! Not having a plausible “way out,” we might therefore hold that one or several of these apparent, latent contradictions justifies our rejection of (this version of) Hinduism.[2]

Arguing Versus Asserting

And I think that it does. But, notice that to justify the rejection of (this version of) Hinduism, I had to do some argumentative “leg work.” I did not simply assert that “Hindusim implies a contradiction.” I concluded that it does. There is an important difference between asserting and concluding.

Similarly, I did not simply begin by declaring the contradictories - such as that “Brahman contains a distinction” or “Brahman is not pure knowledge” - of common Hindu notions. I ended by demonstrating that these follow from several (above-stated) common Hindu notions. Again, there is another important difference between declaring and demonstrating.

Starting merely with the assertions and declarations, we would simply have been preaching to the choir of those who already reject (this version of) Hinduism anyway. To put it another way, if I started by saying “Brahman is not pure knowledge,” without any explanation or argumentation, it would be reasonable for a Hindu (or sympathizer) to simply shrug, exclaim “that’s not what I believe!” and merely turn away.

And I think this would be a rational reaction. After all, there are two important possibilities. Number one, it is possible that my statement gets Hinduism wrong – I just made a mistake. If so, then my statement contains nothing at all for the Hindu to worry about. Number two, my statement might have gotten Hinduism right; that is, even though a given Hindu might believe something to the contrary of my statement, it turned out that the Hindu was wrong about her own belief. She was in the position of poor John who just had the wrong belief about Socrates!

The crucial thing, however, is that John was set right by an argument, not by a counter-assertion. The argument is indispensable. Even if I turned out to be correct, the Hindu has no rational obligation to reply to every anti-Hindu counter-assertion that he or she encounters. An argument is, fittingly enough, arguably different. A (well-formed) counter-argument for not-p places a rational obligation on its hearer, because such an argument does not just make an apparently groundless claim that you are wrong if you believe p. It actually purports to show why you are wrong.

Looking Critically at the Picture-Text

Let’s go back and think about the relevant picture-text.

Atheists, non-theists, and anti-Christians of various sorts may well greet the first sentence – “[God] created man and woman with original sin” – with cheers or Facebook “Likes” or whatever. But the Christian would be rational simply to shrug, exclaim “that’s not what I believe,” and scroll elsewhere on her “news feed.”

That this rejection is rational rests on reasons analogous to those given in the hypothetical case of the recalcitrant Hindu. Either the assertion just got the Christian doctrine wrong, and thus can be safely ignored. Or else it happens to give a correct assertion, but without providing the reader with any reason to think that the counter-claim is correct and, therefore, without establishing any basis upon which to begin a logical analysis.

Of course, I am not just any Christian reader. I am actively looking for assertions to rebut and arguments to evaluate. In my case, I am assuming a burden that – rationally – I need not assume.

So my question becomes: Can I construct (or find elsewhere) an argument that actually tries to establish as a conclusion, what the first picture-text simply asserts without argument in its first sentence?

To be exact, can we show that “[God] created man and woman with original sin”?

For readers who may not know, this has to be established via some sort of argument because, firstly, the Bible says something different and, secondly, Christianity has historically taught that sin came into the lives of humankind through the Fall; that is, sin was not inherent to Adam or Eve when God created them.

What Does the Bible Say?

Just for reference purposes, we will look at (some of) what the Bible says. I should state, up front, that in what follows I will be assuming what is called an “Anselmian view of God.”[3] On this view, God is a being “than which nothing greater can be conceived.”[4] Our first passage is taken from the Book of Genesis, chapter 1.

“Then God said, ‘Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.’ So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. God blessed them… God saw all that he had made, and it was very good.”[5]

This passage indicates a couple of things.

Number one: Humans were created in the “image of God.”[6] However, God is that than which nothing greater can be conceived. If, as is both plausible and historical (in the Christian tradition), being loving (or being good) is conceived of as a perfection, then God must be loving (or good). How loving (or good) must God be? Think of a being and call it “Being1.” Now make Being1 loving (or good) to some degree or other. Ask: Is it possible for another being, say Being2, to be more loving (or better, morally) than Being1? If it is possible, then Being1 is not God. If it’s not possible, then theologians would say that Being1 is as loving (or as good) as it is possible to be. To put it differently, Being1 would be all-loving (or all-good).[7]

Thus we are in a position to see that the Christian view is that God is all-loving (or all-good). To say that God is all-loving (all-good) is to say God that God has no moral imperfection. But sin is a moral imperfection. Therefore, to say that God is all-loving (all-good) is to say that God is not sinful.

But if the image of God inheres in humans, that is, if humans were, in some sense, fashioned in the “image of God,” then it appears that this “image” is not inherently sinful.

Furthermore, the Genesis passage just surveyed has God declare, after creating (what appears to be) the universe, plants, and animals – including, finally, humankind – that “all” – that is, all of the universe, plants, and animals just canvassed – “that he had made …was very good.” But sin is not “very good.” Therefore, sin was not part of “all that [God] had made,” restricting ourselves to everything recorded in Genesis. To be more exact, of everything that Genesis records God having made, of all of that God says: “it was very good.” Therefore, sin was not part of the all of that which Genesis records God having made.

What I AM and Am NOT Doing

Please understand, dear reader, what I am – and am not – trying to do, here. I am not (presently, at any rate) trying to convince the atheist, non-theist, or anti-Christian that the Genesaic portrayal of events is correct or veridical. I am simply trying to establish that, from the Genesaic account (which, of course, Christians take seriously – if not literally), it is reasonable to conclude that God did not create humans in a state of sinfulness.

This is plausible from the conjunction of Genesis 1 and the historic view about what we mean by the word “God”: that is, a being than which nothing greater can be conceived.

But if God did not create humans in a state of sin, whence came sin?

Let’s again turn to the Bible. In Genesis chapters 2 (verses 7-8, 16-18, and 22) and 3 (vv. 1-6, 11b-14) we read:

“Then the Lord God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being. Now the Lord God had planted a garden in the east, in Eden; and there he put the man he had formed. …And the Lord God commanded the man, ‘You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will certainly die.’ The Lord God said, ‘It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.’ …Then the Lord God made a woman from [a] rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man.

“Now the serpent was more crafty than any of the wild animals the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, ‘Did God really say, You must not eat from any tree in the garden?’ The woman said to the serpent, ‘We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden, but God did say, You must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die.’ ‘You will not certainly die,’ the serpent said to the woman. ‘For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.’ When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. …

“[God asked:] ‘Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?’ The man said, The woman you put here with me—she gave me some fruit from the tree, and I ate it.’ Then the Lord God said to the woman, ‘What is this you have done?’ The woman said, ‘The serpent deceived me, and I ate.’ So the Lord God [cursed] the serpent… [and the woman and the man].”

Again, it is no part of my present task to demonstrate that the account is veridical. Nor is it any part of my project, here, to adjudicate between those who debate whether the account is literal, metaphorical, or something else.

Rather, I am simply arguing that, if we take the account seriously – as Christians do – it appears that sinfulness entered the human “sphere” through the choices of the first man and woman, giving in to the temptations of the serpent. These are simply summaries of what the account says. If one is to press the idea that “God created sin,” then one has to argue for that idea. It does not come from a prima-facie reading of the Genesis account.

The First Picture-Text Has No Argument

However, maybe it is possible to construct such an argument. After all, that Brahman is distinction-riddled and imperfect in knowledge does not come from a prima-facie reading of Sankara. These came from arguments that, on Hindu assumptions together with the laws of logic, we seem impelled to admit these things about Brahman.

Maybe the atheist, non-theist, or anti-Christian can come up with an argument that shows, contrary to the Genesaic account and historic Christian theology, God is, in fact, the creator of sin.

But, plainly, no such argument is found in today’s polemical picture-text.

I would be rational to simply leave things here to rest. But as I said I am looking for interesting lines of inquiry to probe. And this is an interesting line of inquiry. So let me go on.

Looking for an Argument Elsewhere

For there is another picture-text that does submit a candidate for the argument that is missing in the first picture-text.

Now it is needful that I modify the argument slightly since, in the posted form, the argument is invalid. To be more precise, the argument moves from talking about “origination” to talking about “creation.” Nothing follows from this unless one assumes that “origination” and “creation” are synonymous in the present context. However, two possible changes are easily enough proposed. We could change all occurrences of “originate” to “create” or we could change all occurrences of “create” to “originate.” Let’s go with the latter change.[8]

15. If sin originated from Satan, and Satan originated from God, then sin originated from God.

16. Sin originated from Satan and Satan originated from God.

17. Therefore, sin originated from God.

This argument is deductively valid. That is to say, if the premises are true (and they may not be), then the conclusion must be true also.

To avoid the conclusion, then, I must identify at least one problem with the argument’s premises. In fact, I suggest that the premises have two relevant problems – either of which, if successful, is sufficient by itself to avoid the conclusion.

Two Objections to the Argument

PROBLEM 1: On Equivocation

It’s not clear that sin did “originate from Satan.” To get at this problem, let me ask a question that I had postponed: why does “Satan created sin” sound peculiar, if “originate” and “create” are, in this context, supposed to be synonymous?

I will suggest an answer. I suggest that we reserve the word “creates” for things that have real being – things that have “positive existence,” if you like. St. Augustine famously argued that evil was, strictly speaking, not a thing. He argued that evil had no positive existence. It was, rather, a privation, that is, an absence or lack, of good.

Does this mean that “there is no such thing as evil”? It depends on how seriously we are using the word “thing”! On this view, evil is not a concrete “thing” like rocks or trees are things. It’s not even an abstract “thing” as is justice or beauty. Rather, evil is a lack of good. To say that something is “evil,” then, means that that thing (whether concrete or abstract) is not as good as it could or should be.

We could say that many propositions of the form “x is not as good as it should be” are true. Thus, although evil is not a “thing,” still, it is true that some bona fide things – e.g., actions – are not as good as they should be. Indeed, some such actions – e.g., murder and rape – are not good at all.

So “murder” is something like the name for a really existing action, like stabbing someone to death, that is such that being good is not one of its properties.[9] So whereas “evil” has no positive existence, what does exist, unfortunately, is an array of actions that do not have goodness among its properties.

Perhaps an analogy or two would be helpful.

Do Holes Exist?

Think of a wall. Maybe it’s made of stone. Stone appears to have positive existence. Physicists tell us that it’s made of atoms and molecules and so forth. Now think of a hole in the wall. Question: Do holes have positive existence? If we listed off everything that existed, would we have to list “holes” along with “rocks” and “trees” and so on? What would holes be “made of”?

Plausibly, the answer is no. Holes are not “made of” anything. We can think of the hole in the wall as simply a place where there is no stone. Hence, saying “there is a hole in the stone wall, here” is just another way of saying “here is a place where the (otherwise) stone wall does not have a stone.”[10]

Of course, if any otherwise stone wall lacks a stone in a particular place, we might well say “the wall has a hole, here.” The sentence is true just in case “there is not stone, here” is true and we would expect or require “there is a stone, here” to be true.

Or again, think of a room full of light. Light is something. Physicists tell us that light is made of photons. Now imagine turning off the light so that the room is dark. Is there such a thing as darkness? Does the act of turning off the light somehow prompt stuff called “darkness” to spill in, filling up the space? If so, what is darkness “made of”?

Again, it is plausible to think that darkness isn’t “made of” anything (i.e., any thing). Saying “the room is dark” is simply another way of saying “the room doesn’t have any light.”

Similarly with our account of holes, various propositions such as “this room is dark” will have analyses that are true: for instance, “this room has no light” (if and when it doesn’t).

Perhaps now we should define “sin.” I have done this elsewhere, so I will simply summarize.

“Sin” is “purposely (willfully) doing something that you know is evil (or bad), or purposely not doing something that is an obligatory good.”

What does this mean, if “evil” is a privation? It means that to sin is to act in such a way that one’s action lacks some good that it ought to have. Does this mean that there is no such “thing” as sin?

As before, there is no such “thing” as evil. If we say “murder is evil,” we mean “murder is not good.” And there certainly, and unfortunately, are acts of which it is true to say “these acts are not good.” Murder is one; rape is another. Etc.

Moreover, there are actions (that is, in the Kantian idiom, acts that have been performed by some actors) of which it is true to say of them “these actions are not loving.” If we say, “Cain’s murder of Abel was sinful,” we mean “Cain’s murder of Abel was not loving.”

Back to the Second Picture-Text

It may be that the reason “Satan creates sin” sounds false (to my ears, anyway), is because “creates” is reserved for things that have positive existence.

On the Augustinian interpretation, “Satan originated sin” cashes out to (something like) “Satan was the first free agent who made a choice that lacked goodness.”

Nothing with positive existence was brought into being.

Hence, the sentence “Satan creates sin” – if we tolerate the nonstandard use of the verb – does not use the word “creates” in the same sense as it is used in the sentence “God created Satan.”

On the Christian view, it is commonly held that the being called “Satan” (or, the adversary) was created as an angel – sometimes identified with Lucifer. In any case, what God created was an angel, and angels (on the Christian view) have positive existence.[11]

This suggests that there are two sorts of creation/origination (CO). As a first pass, I will call the first Literal-CO, that is, creation/origination of some thing, with positive existence. I will call the second Non-Literal-CO, that is, any other tolerable use of “creation” or “origination” where there is no actual, positively existing thing that results.

Equivocation

With this groundwork laid, I suggest that the first problem with the argument is that, regardless of which word (“creates” or “originates”) we select, we run into the fallacy of equivocation. “Equivocation” occurs when a word is used in two or more places in the same linguistic context, but has a different meaning in one or more of those places.

For instance, suppose that I say: Herbert Palmer created Vera Jayne Palmer, and Vera Jayne Palmer created a problem for my marriage. If I conclude that, therefore, Herbert Palmer created a problem for my marriage, I seem clearly to have used “created” in differing senses. Herbert Palmer “created” his daughter in the sense of fathering her. If Vera Jayne Palmer created a problem for my marriage, it was in the sense that I had difficulties keeping my eyes off Jayne Mansfield. Those of not the same senses of “created.”

In the case of the picture-text, the argument advanced depends upon “creation”/“origination” being used univocally, that is, in the same sense throughout. This is to say that, “If sin originated from (or was created by) Satan, and Satan originated from (or was created by) God, then sin originated from (or was created by) God,” requires that we’re not talking about different senses of “creation” / “origination.” But we are talking about different sorts of “creation” / “origination.”

“Sin originated from Satan” only in a non-literal sense. Satan “originated” or “created” sin only the sense that the missile “created” a hole in the wall. We speak like this all the time. But we do not appear to be committed to the positive existence of “holes.” Rather, what we mean is that the missile destroyed part of the wall. The missile did not bring something, a “hole,” into existence that wasn’t there before. On the contrary, the missile took something (say a subset of stones) out of existence that had previously existed.

I suggest that this is what Satan did as well. Satan did not bring something, “sin,” into existence. He did not, so to speak, add “evil” to an action or choice. Rather, what he did was to subtract some good.

But if this is correct, then the argument equivocates on the words “creates” and “originates” – whichever word one chooses to insert. This can be labeled, as follows.

15’. If sin Literally-Originated from (or was Literally-Created by) Satan, and Satan Literally-Originated from (or was Literally-Created by) God, then sin Literally-Originated from (or was Literally-Created by) God.

16’. Satan Literally-Originated from (or was Literally-Created by) God, but sin only Non-Literally-Originated from (or was Non-Literally-Created by) Satan.

Thus, the argument fails. In fact, I think that there is another equivocation problem in the vicinity. I will get into that further on.

PROBLEM 2: On Transitvity

But suppose that the reader is not persuaded by the considerations advanced under the heading “PROBLEM 1.” Maybe the reader thinks that the Augustinian approach is suspect, or that I have mis-applied it in the present case. Perhaps the reader thinks that he or she has discovered a potential, univocal reading that saves the argument.

Let us assume that something like this is the case. Assume that everything that I wrote in the previous section was wrong. Pretend that there is a univocal reading available. Still, I have another objection.

Even with a univocal-reading, the argument crucially depends upon “creation” / “origination” possessing the logical property known as transitivity. Here is a dictionary definition for the adjective “transitive”: “Of or relating to a binary relation such that, whenever one element is related to a second element and the second element is related to a third element, then the first element is also related to the third element. Examples of transitive relations are ‘less than’ for real numbers (a < b and b < c implies a < c) and divisibility for integers (a divides b and b divides c mean that a divides c).”[12]

An easy illustration of transitivity is the “equal to” or identity relation. If x = y, and y = z, then it follows as a mathematical consequence that x = z.

Or think about being taller than. If John is taller than Joe, and Joe is taller than Steve, then it follows – as a logical consequence - that John is taller than Steve.

Intransitivity, Non-Transitivity & Other Matters

However, not all relations are transitive. Some relations are intransitive. An intransitive relation is one for which, if P is related to Q, and Q is, by the same relation, related to R, then it follows as a logical consequence that P is not (by the same relation) related to R.

For example, consider being the mother of. If Jane is the mother of Sarah, and Sarah is the mother of Rebecca, it follows as a logical consequence that Jane is not the mother of Rebecca.

How about being the immediate successor of? If George VI is the immediate successor of Edward VIII, and Elizabeth II is the immediate successor of George VI, then Elizabeth II was not the immediate successor of Edward VIII.

It turns that there are also relations that are neither transitive nor intransitive. These relations are termed non-transitive. This sort of relation is helpfully illustrated by Darren Brierton. He writes:

“…[L]ikes is a non-transitive relation: If John likes Bill, and Bill likes Fred, there is no logical consequence [one way or the other] concerning John liking Fred.”[13]

The moral, then, is that we may not assume that just any relation will be transitive.

Is “Creation” Transitive?

The crucial question obviously is: Is “creation” / “origination” transitive? Note, first, that it has to be transitive for the argument to succeed. If “creation” / “origination” is either in- or non-transitive, then the argument fails. Let us see.

Our task is to try to come up with uncontroversial examples, using “creation” / “origination,” that show whether the relation is usually transitive or intransitive or neither. As (presumably) competent and native English-speakers, we need to check for transitivity using our linguistic intuitions.

If Samuel Ogden Edison, Jr. originated Thomas Edison, and Thomas Edison originated the light bulb, does it follow that Samuel Ogden Edison, Jr. originated the light bulb?

Or if Lionel Dahmer created Jeffrey Dahmer, and Jeffrey Dahmer created chaos, does it follow that Lionel Dahmer created chaos?[14]

It seems that, if these conclusions do follow, then the same reasoning could be rolled backwards almost indefinitely. We would then be in the position of ascribing the light bulb to Edison’s progenitors, his supposed evolutionary forebears, or God himself. Likewise, we would have to ascribe Jeffrey Dahmer’s “chaos” to his entire family, some random pre-Homo Sapien Hynerpeton (on one view of evolutionary history, anyway), or to the Big Bang itself.

What Do We Make of This?

Let’s consider a couple of other examples. What if I say: Alexandre Dumas (père) created Edmond Dantès, and Edmond Dantès created a plan to get revenge on Danglars, Mondego, and Villefort? Shall I say that Dumas created a plan to get revenge on Danglars, Mondego, and Villefort?

I think that this is plausible. After all, Edmond Dantès is fiction created by Dumas. Dumas is the agent; in reality, Dantès does nothing.

Or how about this? I create a robot and the robot creates a sandwich. Do I create the sandwich?

I want to be careful, here. Earlier I alerted the reader to a second possible equivocation in the vicinity of the first (as I alleged previously). Although I am setting the Literal/Non-Literal business aside, in this section, I am now in a position to examine the second (possible) equivocation.

Perhaps the most direct route for getting at this is by way of the philosophical position known as agency theory.[15] Very roughly, an Agent is an entity – something like an Aristotelian substance – that can initiate causal chains that are not determined by prior efficient causes.

Compatibilism & Libertarianism

“For the compatibilist, the person, insofar as he or she is an agent, is simply a series of events through which a causal chain passes on its way to producing an effect, say, one’s hand going up. As long as this effect is caused by the right things in the right way (e.g., the character states of the agent), the act counts as free. …[For the Libertarian, p]ersons are agents and, as such, in free acts they either cause their acts for the sake of reasons (called agent causation) or their acts are simply uncaused events they spontaneously do by exercising their powers for the sake of reasons (called a noncausal theory of agency).”[16]

What is the point of all this? There are (at least) two additional senses for “creation” / “origination,” each springing from different, overarching (or underlying!) conceptions of the relationship between free will and determinism.

Call the Libertarian version of “creation” / “origination” A-rigination, and call the Compatibilistic version C-rigination. To keep the model simple, let’s say that “A-rigination” is the initiation of a brand new causal chain that, while it may (and should) be directed by final causes (or reasons), is not determined by efficient causes. On the other hand, let’s say that “C-rigination” is merely the arbitrary identification of part of an efficient causal chain, all of which is entirely determined by whatever initiated the chain.

Do these distinctions explain my differing intuitions about the cases of transitivity and intransitivity canvassed above? Here’s a review.

If Samuel Ogden Edison, Jr. originated Thomas Edison, and Thomas Edison originated the light bulb, does it follow that Samuel Ogden Edison, Jr. originated the light bulb? It depends. Was Thomas Edison Libertarian free in creating the light bulb? If he was, then we have the following. If Samuel Ogden Edison, Jr. originated [no matter how] Thomas Edison, and Thomas Edison A-riginated the light bulb, does it follow that Samuel Ogden Edison, Jr. originated the light bulb? No. Regardless of whether Samuel A-riginated or C-riginated Thomas, the fact (if it be such) that Thomas A-riginated the light bulb means that Thomas initiated a brand new causal chain in virtue of that action.[17]

Suppose, instead, that the Libertarian view of free will is false and that Compatibilism is true. In that case, we would get this. Since Samuel Ogden Edison, Jr. C-riginated Thomas Edison, and Thomas Edison C-riginated the light bulb, it follows that Samuel Ogden Edison, Jr. C-riginated the light bulb. Of course, since C-rigination is merely the arbitrary identification of part of a causal chain, if Compatibilism is true it would be equally true to say that Edison’s great-great-great-great-great grandmother C-riginated the light bulb, or that the Biblical Adam C-riginated it, or that some unspecifiable single-celled organism from the pre-Cambrian period did so.

Since my intuitions track more closely along with the first reading, I take it that I have linguistic evidence that Compatibilism is false. But, regardless, the point is that whether we say that “originated” is transitive or not depends on what sort of account we give for free will.

This seems to generalize. Consider, again, the case of Jeffrey Dahmer. If Libertarianism is true, and if Jeffrey Dahmer acted freely, then the fact that Lionel Dahmer created Jeffrey Dahmer, and Jeffrey Dahmer created chaos, does not entail that Lionel Dahmer created chaos, because Jeffrey Dahmer initiated causal chains on his own and he is, on his own, responsible for them. On the other hand, if Compatibilism is true, then we might as well say that the Big Bang created the relevant “chaos.” Jeffrey Dahmer was merely a cog in the cosmic wheel.

The Fictional Wrinkle

Or how about these? Alexandre Dumas (père) created Edmond Dantès, and Edmond Dantès created a plan to get revenge on Danglars, Mondego, and Villefort. Did Dumas create a plan to get revenge on Danglars, Mondego, and Villefort? As I said previously, clearly, Edmond Dantès is a fictional character created by Dumas. Even if Libertarianism is true, Dumas is the only actual agent. Therefore, it might seem that Dumas did create a plan to get revenge. But there seems to be something wrong.

Did Dumas create an actual plan to get actual revenge on actual individuals? No. He created a fictional plan to get fictional revenge on fictional characters. Notice the difference in the word “create.” Did Dantès “create” in the same sense as Dumas? No. Dumas actually created a story; Dantès has no actual existence, and therefore cannot actually create anything.

We could plausibly say that even if Libertarianism is true: Dumas A-riginated Edmond Dantès. But, being fictional, Edmond Dantès was merely a figment of Dumas’s imagination. Suppose we want to say that Dantès C-riginated the plan to get revenge on Danglars, Mondego, and Villefort, and that Dantès was an instrument used by Dumas – a literary contrivance that Dumas, as the author, used to tell his story. We might be tempted to say therefore that “Dumas created a plan to get revenge” is true. After all, the entire story – including the revenge plot – owes to Dumas.

The problem is that the reasoning used to generate the conclusion “Dumas created a plan to get revenge” violates the rules of transitivity. Transitivity holds when three things (a, b, and c) are all related by the selfsame relation. Then, if the relation is transitive, we can say that: If aRb and bRc, then aRc.

However, in the Dumas case, the relevant three things are not related by the selfsame relation. For we said that Dumas A-riginated Edmond Dantès and that Dantès C-riginated the revenge plot. A-rigination and C-rigination are not the same relation. Therefore, nothing follows by transitivity.

Of course, Dumas is the author of the entire story. So we want to ensure that he gets credit for everything that happens. We secure this outcome, and make things univocal, by substituting for “creates” a word like “pretends.” Then we would say something like this: Dumas pretends that Dantès exists and Dumas pretends that Dantès plots revenge.

Things go similarly with my robot, but not identically. Assuming Libertarianism, if I A-riginate a robot, then – unless the robot somehow becomes a self-aware, artificially intelligent being like 2001: A Space Odyssey’s Hal, then the robot merely C-riginates the sandwich. The robot did not decide to create a sandwich in the sense that it initiated a new causal chain. Here it seems plausible to say that I created the sandwich by means of the robot. The robot was my instrument.

But, like the Dumas case, we do not attribute the sandwich-making to me because of transitivity. Nothing follows by transitivity since A-rigination and C-rigination pick out two different relations. Rather, the whole example now seems misstated. Instead of saying I created a robot and the robot created a sandwich, I should have instead said I created a sandwich by means of a robot.

Applying It All to the Case at Hand

The takeaway might be this. If Libertarianism is true, and if sin A-riginated from Satan, then sin did not A-riginate from God even if Satan did A-riginate from God. To put it another way, even when the terms are univocal – notice that A-riginate is used throughout – God cannot be blamed for sin if that sin was Satan’s (Libertarian-)free choice. Satan would have initiated a brand new causal chain – one that was independent of the causal chain, initiated by God, that A-riginated Satan himself.

But suppose we substitute C-rigination. Then we get this: Sin C-riginated from Satan, but Satan A-riginated from God. Can we conclude that “sin A-riginated from God”? We cannot depend upon transitivity to carry this conclusion. Remember that transitivity only applies when we have three things related by the selfsame relation. But if Satan C-riginated sin and God A-riginated Satan, then, because A-rigination and C-rigination are different relations, nothing follows by transitivity alone.

Conservatively, I would suggest that this shows "origination" is non-transitive - since it can mean either A-rigintion which appears to be intransitive, or C-rigination which appears to be transitive.

We are faced with three options.

NUMBER ONE:

We could affirm either Libertarianism or Compatibilism and hold that God’s A-rigination of Satan is like Dumas’s A-rigination of Dantès. In this case, it is true that God is the author of everything. But we would seem to be compelled to have to say that everything Satan does is on a par with Dumas’s fiction. To put it differently, God pretends that Satan exists and pretends that sin exists, and so on. This doesn’t seem correct. For one thing, it seems to reduce sin to a fiction. And that’s something that I’d wager even the author of the picture-text wouldn’t want to do. After all, doesn’t an artist have creative freedom? On what objective basis could God be criticized for pretending that sin exists?

NUMBER TWO:

We could affirm Compatibilism and simply lay it down that God is the only free agent. However, this would seem to force us to say that “Satan originated sin” is misstated and should instead be “God originated sin by means of Satan.” This is the conclusion that the authors of the two picture-texts seem to want. Sure, right: If God is the only free agent, then everything – the good and bad – must owe to God. But why think that God is the only free agent? We have been given no reason to accept this. It is arguable, therefore, that the (implicit) argument begs the question against Libertarianism. Of course, this is our third option.

NUMBER THREE: We could affirm Libertarianism, use A-rigination univocally throughout the argument, and admit that God is not to blame for Satan’s new causal chain.

It is crucial to notice that nowhere on either of the two picture-texts do we have anything even remotely approaching either an argument for Compatibilism or an argument against Libertarianism.

If this argument shows that God is the “creator” of sin, then we seem impelled to say that it only does so by assuming a contentious and eminently reject-able view about free will.

Brief Summary & Concluding Remarks

As far as I can tell, this argument only plausibly suggests that God is the “creator” of sin if all the following are the case:

- “Creation” / “origination” have a univocal sense that works throughout the argument;

- “Creation” / “origination” are transitive;

- Augustine’s view of evil is false;

- Libertarianism is false; and

- Compatibilism is true.

However, quite obviously, none of these has even been attempted – let alone accomplished or established.

Moreover, by my lights: “creation” / “origination” are equivocal; “creation” / “origination” are non-transitive; St. Augustine's view of evil is defensible, compelling, and possibly true; Libertarianism is defensible, compelling, and possibly true; and Compatibilism, while defensible, is less-compelling and arguably false.

So the first line of the first picture-text is merely an unargued assertion resting upon a highly questionable resolution to the metaphysical problem of free will. And it’s passed off as if it were an uncontroversial tenet of Christianity. The picture-text gets worse from there! But I am out of time for today.

Notes:

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[1] What follows is my much-condensed adaptation of Robin Collins’s evaluation of Sankara’s version of Hinduism, as found in “Eastern Religions,” Michael J. Murray, Reason for the Hope Within, Grand Rapids, Mich. and Cambridge [U.K.]: William B. Eerdmans, 1999, pp. 182ff, esp. p. 189. Any errors are doubtless my own.

[2] I am merely illustrating something, here. I am not pretending to have made irrelevant all other philosophical debate over the truth or falsity of Hinduism.

[3] Briefly, on this view, God possesses all of the “perfections” or “great-making properties.” These properties may be defined as “those properties, with intrinsic maxima, that it is inherently better to have than to lack.” For example, it is inherently better to have knowledge than to lack it. Therefore, God would have to have knowledge. But knowledge also (plausibly) has an intrinsic maximal value: namely, knowing, of all true, actualized propositions that they are true, and knowing of all false propositions that they are false. (We might also add: knowing the truth-values of all counterfactual and otherwise possible, but non-actual propositions. But I will leave this aside, presently.)

[4] In Latin: Aliquid quo nihil maius cogitari possit.

[5] Genesis 1:26-28 and 31, New International Version.

[6] In Latin: Imago dei.

[7] I.e., Omnibenevloent.

[8] This seems the charitable thing to do. After all, it is not at all clear that “Satan created sin” is true. It seems to me clearly false. But the “originate”-reading does not sound as obviously false (though it still may be). So I will go with that.

[9] To put it slightly differently, “murder is evil,” is something like an abbreviation for a string of propositions (e.g., “S stabbed T to death,” “S shot and killed T,” and so on) none of which could be prefixed by the predication “it is good that.”

[10] This works for holes of all sorts. “There is a hole in the dirt, here” is just another way of saying that “here is a place where there is no dirt,” and so on.

[11] Of course, in this case we have an angel who, after making a free choice bereft of goodness, fell from his lofty position and became the Adversary.

[12] “Transitive,” American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, 5^th Ed., Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publ., 2016, <http://www.thefreedictionary.com/transitivity>.

[13] Darren Brierton, “Objects, Properties and Relations,” Philosophy Vade Mecum, Univ. of Missouri – Kansas City, <https://cas.umkc.edu/philosophy/vade-mecum/2-3.htm>.

[14] Recall that the burden of the previous section was to show that nouns like “chaos” have no positive existence. However, also recall that I began the present section on the assumption that everything I wrote previously was wrong. If the reader has the sense – as indeed I do – that “creating chaos” and “creating Jeffrey Dahmer” involve two different senses “creating,” then I invite him or her to revisit the preceding text. I think that the same problem plagues premise 16.

[15] This is, of course, embedded in a tangled thicket surrounding the problem of free will. There are numerous views. On one pole, some people endorse “Hard Determinism.” This is the view that “choice,” strictly speaking, does not exist. In its “Scientific Version,” all things are held to be absolutely predetermined by the laws of the universe together with the initial conditions. In a “Theological Version,” Divine “predestination” would also play a role. God is the only free actor. Going a bit farther, “Fatalism” is the view that the laws and conditions themselves could not have been otherwise. Fate implies a thoroughgoing determinism on “all metaphysical levels.” In any event, determinists can be of “Hard” or “Soft” varieties. The “Hard Determinist” thinks that “freedom” and “determinism” are incompatible; there is, in fact, no such thing as “free will.”

A somewhat middle of the road position is “Soft Determinism” or “Compatibilism.” “Compatibilism” designates the idea that “freedom” is compatible with “determinism” after all. Confusingly, Compatibilism also comes in “Hard” and “Soft” varieties. The “Hard Compatibilist” holds that “freedom” requires determinism. Roughly, this is because a choice without a sufficient, efficient cause is thought to be utterly random. At the other extreme from determinism, some endorse “Simple Indeterminism.” This is the view that nothing is determined.

On the other hand, others are “Soft Compatibilists,” who hold instead that free choice does not require determinism, but is compatible with it. So the Soft Compatibilists want to try to preserve free will and determinism. Some “Soft Compatibilists” (called “Passive Self-determinists” or “Classical Compatibilists”) tend

to hold that a person is free just in case she can act according to her strongest inclination. “Compatibilism claims that every person chooses according to his or her greatest desire. In other words, people will always choose what they want – and what they want is determined by (and consistent with) their moral nature. Man freely makes choices, but those choices are determined by the condition of his heart and mind (i.e. his moral nature),” “Compatibilism,” Theopedia, <http://www.theopedia.com/compatibilism>.

In theological contexts, Calvinists tend to be Compatibilists of this sort. While the inclination (i.e., desire) determines the “choice,” still, a person can count as “free” on this view if she isn’t hindered from acting on her inclination. “Compatibilists argue that if all of our choices are uncaused, they would then be completely arbitrary, unpredictable, and not really moral actions at all,” ibid.

“Incompatibilism” is the view that freedom simply cannot be determined – strictly so-called – in any sense. One form of Incompatibilism, called “Libertarianism” (in a non-political sense), holds that for a person to be free with respect to some action, A, is for that person to be able to do A or not do A – regardless of “inclination” or “desire.” In other words, Libertarians hold that it is possible for a person to act against her inclinations and desires. Against the Compatibilist, Libertarians contend that while our actions and choices are “uncaused” in the sense that they lack antecedent, efficient causes, they are not altogether “uncaused” because our (rational) actions and choices have final causes, that is, reasons. (Recall that Aristotle enumerated four different “causes”: Material, Formal, Efficient, and Final.)

In the vicinity is another Incompatibilistic view called “Agent Theory” or “Action Theory” which holds, roughly, that determinism applies to events, but denies that “choices” and “actions” are events in the relevant sense. On this view, Agents (something like “conscious beings”) can initiate new causal chains and perform Actions (also termed “Happenings” – something like “events,” but importantly different in that they are not just strings of efficient causes) that are not mechanically determined by events.

For more, see Milton D. Hunnex, Chronological and Thematic Charts of Philosophies and Philosophers, Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Academic, 1986, pp. 29ff.

[16] William Lane Craig and J. P. Moreland, Philosophical Foundations for a Christian Worldview, Downer’s Grove, Ill. InterVarsity Press, 2003, pp. 278 & 279.

[17] Of course, the action of “creating the light bulb” was a complex, rather than simple, action. I will assume, though not argue, that some conjunction of propositions could be specified such that: collectively, the propositions adequately describe the complex action; the propositions have time-orderable, simple actions as constituents; and that the constituent simple action that comes first in the time sequence is plausibly a case of A-rigination.