What is philosophy and why do people do it? Is it just for ancients or could it be important to modern life? We've looked at reasons for and against doing philosophy; now let's see what we've learned.
Metaphilosophy
Burden of Proof and the Problem of Evil
In a recent video, I examined the Problem of Evil: How could a good God allow evil to exist? The argument is as follows:
- If God existed, He could prevent evil because He is all-powerful and all-knowing
- If God existed, He would prevent evil because He is all-good
- So, if God existed, evil would not exist
- But, evil exists
- So, God doesn’t exist
Theists typically object to premise (2) and in the video, I enumerated four reasons an all-good God could possibly allow evil. An interesting thing to note, however, is that I need not have done so in order to show the Problem of Evil fails because I didn’t have the ‘burden of proof.’
What is the ‘burden of proof’?
The ‘burden of proof’ is the obligation for proving why things are the way they are. In general, the burden of proof rests on whoever is making the claim. For example, let’s say Allen believes in aliens and Denise denies aliens exist (personally, I have no opinion on this matter). Denise says, “Aliens can’t exist: no one has ever seen one!” Allen points out, “That doesn’t prove anything. We’ve never seen dark matter, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.” Notice that Allen hasn’t proved that aliens exist, but he doesn’t need to. He only needs to show Denise hasn’t proven her claim.
Say Denise then gives Allen a reason. “Well, we should expect they would have made contact.” Notice, however, that this is yet another claim, so once again Denise shoulders the burden of proof, this time for the new claim (this will continue until Denise finds an acceptable claim to support the reasons she has given). So, Allen could ask, “Why believe aliens should have contacted us?” Again, Allen hasn’t proved we should not expect that aliens would have contacted us already. If he wants to make his point even stronger he can provide a reason why we shouldn’t. Maybe he could say, “An alien species might see that we don’t like outsiders.” This might be a good reason, in which case Allen’s point is all the more reinforced. However, if it isn’t, this doesn’t mean anything for Denise’s argument. She still has failed to make her case.
Who has the burden of proof in the Problem of Evil?
In the case of the Problem of Evil, the claim is being made: “God cannot exist because an all-good God wouldn’t allow evil.” For that reason, the burden of proof is on the atheist to show God could have no reason for allowing evil. After all, a being that is all-good would certainly not commit evil himself, but it is not obvious that he wouldn’t allow evil at all.
Let’s say the atheist gives us a reason: “When a person could prevent an evil but doesn’t we think that person is not good, so God would not be good if He were to allow evil.” Now we have a reason, but notice this reason is also subject to criticism. So, for example, we could point out that this isn’t always true. I might allow my son to procrastinate studying and fail a test in order for him to learn that there are consequences for irresponsibility. Or, more to the point, we might point out that God is an infinite intelligence, so He might have reasons for allowing evil that we don’t know.
Why give reasons?
Notice, however, that we still don’t need to give any reasons. It is sufficient to point out that the atheist’s argument doesn’t show God couldn’t allow evil. In fact, in this case it might be that it’s impossible to give the reasons God allows evil. First of all, it might be beyond our ken to understand. Human psychology hasn’t come far enough along to show us why we do everything we do, certainly we shouldn’t expect to understand why God does everything He does. If God were easy to understand, He wouldn’t be God. Second, God may have many reasons for allowing evil, and it may be that not every reason applies to every evil. So, for example, I might allow my son to surf a wave that scares him
a little bit because it will develop courage in him. This is a different reason than why I let him fail the test. God might have an infinite number of reasons and expecting a silver bullet-type response is unrealistic. Finally, God might have some good purpose for hiding His reasons.
However, we might still give some possible reasons, as I do in the video, to make the case even more convincing. If these reasons fail, then nothing is lost. It has still been shown that the atheist has not provided sufficient justification for the claim that God couldn’t have any reasons for allowing evil.
Of course, ultimately the theist will not be satisfied with defending God against accusations of being an impossible being. She will want to go further and say God exists, and this is a claim that gives the theist the burden of proof for showing why we should believe this. The point here is that she need not prove this in the discussion of the Problem of Evil because here she doesn’t shoulder the burden of proof.
Philosophy Is Dangerous
Waste of Resources
Philosophy vs. Opinion
Understanding Others
Error Theory: What is it?
In the 1720s English astronomer James Bradley proved the earth revolves around the sun (you can read about it here). Imagine being alive at that time–before spaceships and satellites–and coming to understand the proof. Would you merrily accept it and be one your way? Likely you would hesitate or
even refuse to accept the proof because it contradicts another piece of evidence: you don’t feel yourself flying through space around the sun like you would expect to. What would really help is if someone could help you understand why you shouldn’t let the latter evidence stymie the former proof.
An error theory explains why a belief was attractive, even though it was held for a fallacious reason. It is typically given once a belief has been disproved in order to remove the reasons for which people once held it. In our example, an error theory would look something like this. We don’t feel ourselves moving around the sun because we are revolving along with the earth at a constant rate, and we only feel changes of movement. For example, even if we are moving at a great rate in the hull of a ship, we don’t feel like we are moving until it comes to a sudden stop. The earth is so large, however, that it is counterintuitive to think of it as a vessel.
There are a few things to note here. First, the error theory isn’t actually necessary. The proof showed that we shouldn’t believe the sun goes around the earth, whereas our experience isn’t a proof. Even so, the error theory is really nice to have! It ameliorates the unrest people have when given competing reasons to believe something. You can imagine your relief at receiving this error theory in the 1720s. 
Second, an error theory cannot of itself disprove the held belief or give reason to believe a different view. If Bradley hadn’t given his proof, but had explained why we wouldn’t feel the earth moving around the sun, he wouldn’t have thereby proved that the earth moves around the sun. He would, however, have removed what people might have thought was evidence for believing that the sun moves around the earth, which isn’t the same as disproving it, but it’s something.
Finally, keeping this latter point in mind, imagine Bradley were wrong about his proof. Could he be right about his error theory? Sure! Remember: an error theory only shows the initial evidence was not a good reason to hold the initial belief, but it isn’t evidence against that belief. So, in this case, the error theory would show that even if someone were right that the sun revolved around the earth, that person would have believed it for the wrong reason.
For more about error theories, please check out my YouTube video “If it’s wrong, why does everyone believe it? Error Theory“
What should we think when philosophy gets weird?
This week we are talking about the Problem of Material Constitution: how can a material object retains its identity through change? To bring the problem into focus, we looked at the Ship of Theseus, a very strange thought experiment. A tempting thought when things get weird is to punt to skepticism. You might think, “This is exactly why I hate philosophers. Why waste your time on pointless questions like this?!” After all, it seems obvious that material things survive change and if philosophy is going to say otherwise then it’s stupid. What can we say about philosophy when it seems to go off the deep end? Here are three ideas.
1. Breaking you down to build you back up
Socrates, one of the progenitors of Western philosophy, was sentenced to death for moral corruption of the youth. I like to believe the following account is why. In a passage in Plato’s Meno, Socrates interrogates Meno into exposing his ignorance about the nature of 
virtue. This can easily be mistaken for an attack on the existence of virtue itself, but I think Socrates’ purpose is to bring Meno to a better understanding of virtue because he believes such understanding will steel Meno’s resolve to be virtuous in the face of temptation whereas a faulty understanding will cause him to falter. For example, I might resist trying heroin because my parents told me so, but I’ll be much more likely to reject it if I see its effect on others and learn the staggering statistics of misery.
In the same way, when philosophy gets wacky such as in the case of material constitution, we might not have to construe our inquiry as destructive. Imagine the Ship of Theseus paradox actually happens. Someone takes all the replaced planks, rebuilds the ship, and posts it on eBay. Had you already bought the continuous ship, seeing the eBay advertisement might shake your faith in the existence of material objects. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a theory as to how material objects can retain their identity through time? Maybe that’s all we’re after when we talk about the Problem of Material Constitution.
2. Philosophy takes time
One of my favorite quotes about philosophy comes from Harm J.M.J. Gorris. When evaluating a philosophical theory that would have us reject a common-sense view of the world, Gorris says, “I think philosophy must first do its homework and present an airtight, non-circular argument before it may dismiss such an intuitive insight as mere illusion.” That stuck with me because it resolved an issue that had been haunting me. When he converted to theism, then-renowned atheist A.J. Ayer gave the rationale that we must, “Follow the evidence, wherever it leads.” What bothered me about that quote was that throughout history people have thought up new arguments for and against God. What if the evidence changes just a little tomorrow so that it slightly favors the opposite? For me, faith 
is life-changing. Am I to change my life with the academic wind?
Gorris’ quote is important to me because it reminds me that we don’t need to throw out our beliefs just because some new, wacky doctrine comes along. Philosophy actually takes a long, long time to advance, and what is philosophically fashionable today needs some time under its belt before it can be established. Philosophers are working daily to show why philosophical theories are untenable. It could easily be the case that the new, cutting-edge theory of today is the cautionary tale of tomorrow. Maybe when philosophy gets weird, we should just wait.
3. The world is weird
In college, a friend of mine ran into a tree so hard that his legs and arms literally shot out like on a cartoon. It was one of the greatest moments of my life and I still cherish the memory. However, if we are being scientifically accurate, he never did run into the tree. Our best science has led us to conclude all physical objects are actually made up of much smaller particles that never truly touch each other. Both my friend and the tree are made up of a tiny fraction of a percentage of stuff, and the rest is empty space. Instead of hitting the tree, the electrons in my friend were unable to fill the 
correct role in the atoms of the tree and vice versa due to some bizarre atomic property. When we look at my friend and the tree, however, it certainly doesn’t look that way. It looks like both are totally solid, filled-in objects that smack into each other. In other words, the world is a lot weirder than it initially looks.
Philosophy makes strange claims at times. Sometimes it is only for the sake of better understanding of common sense, sometimes it’s just because philosophy hasn’t had enough time to work things out, but it might be just because the world is weird. If science has established that the world is totally different than it appears, then maybe we should expect the same of philosophy. It would be odd to say that the world isn’t as intuitive as it seems after we’ve done science, but then we do philosophy and it’s totally what we anticipated. Maybe weird is just what we should expect.
Is Philosophy against My Faith?
I’m not Episcopalian, but I used to teach Introduction to Philosophy at an Episcopal school. One year, a student told me she was surprised the school offered my class because she thought it was antithetical to the faith. I reassured her that although there were a good deal of non-Christian philosophers that rejected Christianity on philosophical grounds, there were also a good deal of Christian philosophers who thought philosophy supported their beliefs. She surprised me, however, by saying that this was just the problem.
(Warning: this is a philosophy blog, not a Bible study! What follows is definitely of interest as an exercise in reasoning, but my main goal is to assuage people who are afraid the Bible disallows them to do philosophy.)
Hebrews 11:6 says, “And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him.” Philosophy, however, seeks knowledge about just such things as God’s existence. Some would argue that you can’t believe in something if you know it. If this is so, then if philosophy is successful in showing God exists, then it would make it impossible to please God.
I don’t think this is the right interpretation, however, as there are other passages in the Bible that seem to teach Christians should engage in just such endeavors. In 1 Peter 3:15, Christians are admonished to “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect….” Giving a reason for belief in God sounds a lot like what we were worried about before. Further, in the Book of Acts, the apostle Paul (the author of a great deal of the New Testament of the Bible) engages with philosophers (Stoics and Epicureans) on Mars Hill. He doesn’t tell them to quit their jobs, but rather reasons (or philosophizes?) with them. In this context, Paul is set out as a person to emulate. So, it seems like far from being something to avoid, Christians should engage their faith through philosophy.
How are we to resolve the tension between the different passages? I think there are several possibilities. First, it could be (and likely is) the case that we can never get total, indubitable knowledge of God’s existence through philosophy and must content ourselves with good reasons for believing in God (if they are available). If this is so, the problem is mitigated. It would still be the case that philosophy reduces the need for faith, but it would never obviate this need. If it’s also the case that pleasing God is proportional to the amount of faith we must rely on–i.e. more faith = more pleasing–then philosophy would lessen the amount God would be pleased, but it would also be commanded of us so that it is a necessary evil.
A more likely possibility, however, is that the two kinds of faith are different. In the latter case, the concern is for convincing others of God’s existence and the Christian soteriological plan (plan of salvation). However, Hebrews 11 is talking about living a life of trust in God. I’ll explain the difference through an analogy.
When my oldest son was very young, he was fascinated by fire. He kept trying to touch the flame on the stove top and I had to keep telling him not to. Eventually, I gave him a little smack on the hand. I know, corporal punishment, right? But, it was all I could do to save his poor little hand from being burned. Of course, the little man couldn’t understand why I would do this. “Why would dad keep me from what I want?” I mean, think about it: fire is bright, it moves in really cool ways, and it feels nicer the closer you get to it (up to a point). Why would dad not only keep it from me, but even inflict pain on me! He didn’t understand why, but he did know that I loved him and that I knew better than him, and for that reason he chose to trust me. I think this is the kind of faith the writer of Hebrews is interested in. In order to please God, you have to trust him even when you don’t understand why something happens to you because you know He is wiser than you and He loves you. If that’s what the author means, then there is no conflict between this kind of faith and philosophical investigation.
Is philosophy totally useless?
“When will we ever need to know this? What’s the point?” The question is a semester killer. Until now, most of your students have trudged through the blizzard of information that is your class, naively assuming there is a point. Now they are all jutted upright in exasperation, waiting for 
your assurances. Surely, you will assuage them with purpose. You are the teacher. You will know why.
“Because it will be on the test,” you say. You blew it. You just told them your class is nothing more than a hurdle to college and career. You serve no purpose but to stand in the way. You are a speed bump. But, this isn’t why you became an expert in your field. You didn’t major in this because it was on the test. Why did you need to know this?
A better answer would have been to show students what they could do with the knowledge you provide. Want to launch rockets? Here’s how to use physics to get your first one going. Like travel? Here’s how to use Spanish to get an experience the average tourist could never hope for. Like money? Here’s how to use math to make it rain. Most people won’t go on to be teachers in your subject—which is good because if everyone were a teacher, we’d have no food, shelter, or surfboards. Showing students how your knowledge helps them do what they want to do makes your knowledge something they want.
However, that’s probably not why you majored in this. It isn’t usually the case that Physics teachers are just former rocket scientists, Spanish teachers are just travelers, or Math teachers are just rich (or have any money at all). No, there is something about the knowledge itself that fascinates people. It should be mind-blowing that 
we can use physical equations to perfectly plan the trajectory of a projectile. It should be incredible that we can describe how an entire language works through a few rules. It should be awesome that we can use numbers to predict the future of a market. That’s what inspires people to dedicate themselves to something. When knowledge is for the sake of something else it is good, but only as a means to an end. When knowledge is for its own sake, then it is good in and of itself.
There is precious little you can do with the philosophy. You won’t send anyone to the moon, you won’t communicate with foreigners (though you’ll sound like one), and you definitely won’t make money (believe me). But that isn’t why people study it in the first place. After years of teaching philosophy, I am convinced now more than ever that it houses the questions people love most. What are we: souls, animals, machines, illusions? What is happiness and what is the point of this life? Is God real and if so what is God like? How can I know whether this is all just a dream or that I’m not the only person among very realistic robots? Is it better to save a life or respect cultural beliefs? Some have argued that these questions are pointless. Maybe. Some say they are a waste of time. Okay. But, no one says they are uninteresting. And, if something done for its own sake is good, then it is good to philosophize.