weak agnosticism
        
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Weak Agnosticism Defended
Weak Agnosticism Defended[1]
Graham Oppy
Agnosticism has had some bad press in recent years. Nonetheless,
I hope to show that agnosticism can be so formulated that it is
no less philosophically respectable than theism and atheism. This
is not a mere philosophical exercise; for, as it happens, the
formulated position is--I think--the one to which I subscribe.
I include a qualification here since it may be that the position
to which I subscribe is better characterised as fallibilist
atheism--but more of that anon.
I begin by distinguishing between two different kinds of agnosticism.
On the one hand, there is strong agnosticism, i.e. the
view which is sustained by the thesis that it is obligatory
for reasonable persons to suspend judgement on the question of
God's existence. And, on the other hand, there is weak agnosticism,
i.e. the view which is sustained by the thesis that it is permissible
for reasonable persons to suspend judgement on the question of
God's existence.
Strong agnosticism is characteristically defended by appeal to
the apparent lack of good independent evidential support for the
claim that God exists. Underlying this appeal there is typically
an epistemological principle which resembles the following: in
circumstances in which the available evidence no more--and no
less--supports p than it supports logically incompatible hypotheses
p1, ..., pn, ..., one ought to suspend judgement between all of
the hypotheses p, p1, ..., pn, ... . Moreover, also underlying
this appeal there is typically a further principle, along the
following lines: it is possible to characterise a suitable
notion of evidential support which does not rely upon a relativisation
to background assumptions or theories. In the next two sections
of this paper, I propose: (i) to sketch the best case that I can
make for strong agnosticism; and then (ii) to argue that the case
fails because the two kinds of principles required for strong
agnosticism cannot be plausibly conjoined.
Weak agnosticism is, I think, best defended via an appeal
to a principle of epistemic conservatism, along the following
lines: one is rationally justified in continuing to believe
that p unless one comes to possess positive reason to cease to
do so. In the third and fourth sections of this paper, I attempt
to make a case for weak agnosticism, and to defend this case against
objections. Since the strength of this case depends upon the underlying
principle of epistemic conservatism, I shall also provide some
assessment of the merits of this kind of approach to epistemology.
1
The strong agnostic claims that it is not rational to believe
in the existence of the God of traditional Western theism--i.e.
the unique, personal, omniscient, omnipotent, omnibenevolent,
eternal creator ex nihilo of the universe. However, unlike
some atheists, the strong agnostic does not believe either: (i)
that talk of such a God is meaningless or incoherent; or (ii)
that the concept of such a God is inconsistent or incoherent;
or (iii) that the existence of such a God is ruled out by evidence
which is available to all, e.g. the amounts and kinds of evils
in the world. Of course, the strong agnostic might be prepared
to concede that it is epistemically possible that one of these
atheistic claims is correct; but she holds that there is not yet
conclusive reason to believe any one of them. Moreover, unlike
other atheists, the strong agnostic does not subscribe to the
principle that, in the absence of any positive evidence for
the existence of x's, one is rationally required to believe that
there are no x's. Even though the strong agnostic contends
that there is currently available no good evidence for the existence
of God, she holds that what is rationally required is merely refusal
to assent either to the claim that God exists or to the claim
that God does not exist.
A case for strong agnosticism can be constructed as follows: It
seems reasonable to allow that it is at least epistemically possible
that the universe was created by one or more beings--i.e. it
is not obvious that this is a claim which can simply be ruled
out a priori, or on the basis of uncontroversial evidence.
So, suppose that the universe was created by one or more
beings. What is it reasonable to believe about such beings on
the basis of the available evidence--i.e. on the basis of what
we know, or can reasonably believe, about the universe?
It seems that it would be quite rash to suppose that such beings
must be omnipotent and omniscient. True, such beings would surely
have powers and knowledge which we do not have. In particular,
if they created the universe ex nihilo, then they have
powers which it is impossible for us to have. But what reason
is there to suppose that they can do anything which it is logically
possible for them to do, and that they know everything which it
is logically possible for them to know? Is there any reason to
suppose that one would need to know everything which it is logically
possible for one to know in order for one to be able to create
a universe like ours? For instance, should we suppose that the
creators of the world must know everything about transfinite arithmetic?
This is surely an entirely open question. Similarly, is there
any reason to suppose that one would need to be able to do everything
which it is logically possible for one to do in order for one
to be able to create a world like ours? Should we suppose that
the creators of our universe were able to create uncountably many
similar worlds? Or should we suppose that this world is the only
world which they had in them? Again, this looks like an entirely
open question.
It also seems that it would be very rash to suppose that such
beings are omnibenevolent. Even if--as many theists have argued
-- the amounts and kinds of evil in the world are compatible with
the existence of an omnibenevolent deity, it is not at all clear
that this evidence does not point more strongly towards creators
with an entirely different moral character. At the very least,
it seems that it is no less plausible to suppose that the creators
of the world have morally indifferent characters, or to suppose
that the creators of the world are themselves morally evil --
things might get pretty dull in whatever realm they inhabit; and
what need our suffering be to them? Of course, in the latter case,
there will be problems about the amounts and kinds of good in
the world--but, even in the case in which the creators in question
are omnimalevolent, it is hard to suppose that there is any more
difficulty than there is for the traditional theists who attempts
to deal with the problems of evil.
Similar sceptical doubts can be raised about the number, eternality
and personality of these beings. However, the upshot of this enquiry
is surely already clear: the available evidence certainly seems
to allow many different epistemically possible creators. Perhaps
it might be objected that there is evidence which has not been
taken into account--e.g. the evidence of religious experience,
religious authority, revelation and scripture. However, none of
this is "available evidence"--i.e. evidence which
will be recognised as such by theist and non-theist alike. In
order to determine whether the evidence supports the claim that
the God of traditional theism exists, we must set aside anything
which could only be claimed as evidence for this God's existence
by those who already believe that this God does in fact exist.
Thus, e.g. one could only suppose that the Bible provides evidence
of the existence of this particular God if one already believes
that this God exists; one who believed, say, that the world was
created by a malevolent creature would suppose that the Bible
is evidence of the cunning of this being.[2]
But if the conclusion of the preceding paragraph is correct, then,
even for those who believe that the universe has creators, a question
arises, viz: in which of the possible creators ought one to believe?
One might take the view that all one ought to believe is that
there are creators, and leave it at that. But to take this view
is to fail to believe in the God of traditional Western theology,
or in any of the other epistemically possible alternatives. Moreover,
this view is manifestly insufficient to sustain a religious outlook
on life. At this point in the argument, it is an open question
whether the creators deserve our thanks. One might be delighted
with one's life no thanks to them--so one's own happiness isn't
sufficient to answer the question which attitude one ought to
take. In any case, even to believe that there are creators is
to believe too much--for it is compatible with all the evidence
we possess that the universe is uncreated. And indeed, to the
extent that we feel impelled to believe in creators, it seems
that we shall be equally impelled to believe in creators of those
creators, and so on. If we are prepared to allow that this regress
halts somewhere, then it is hard to see how we could rule out
the possibility that it halts right at the beginning, i.e. with
an uncreated universe.
Recently, there has been a revival of interest in teleological
arguments which begin with the claim that the occurrence of life
in the universe depended upon the utterly unlikely concurrence
of a number of improbable events and specific values of universal
parameters.[3] Doesn't this data show that it is much more reasonable
to suppose that the universe is the outcome of creative intelligence?
No. We don't know much about the contours of broadly logical,
i.e. metaphysical, space--contours which, of course, can only
be discovered a posteriori--but it seems highly implausible
to suppose that ours is the only kind of universe which could
support intelligent moral agents. Moreover, although we can conjecture
that, as we move along certain axes in logical space, we find
only universes which do not contain human beings, we can't even
be sure--given enough parameters and initial events--that
our local region of logical space isn't densely populated with
universes which contain human beings. And, finally, we have little
idea what kinds of intelligent moral agents there might be other
than human beings, nor much idea about the conditions under which
they might flourish. So: Even if we are inclined to think that
our existence is an incredible stroke of luck, the postulation
of creators cannot be guaranteed to explain that luck. For it
would seem to be equally a matter of incredible luck that they
were disposed to create our universe rather than one of the possible
alternatives. Moreover--and more importantly--we have no idea
whether ours is the only universe, and hence don't know whether
it is appropriate to think that our existence is an incredible
stroke of luck. Maybe there are a vast number of uncreated worlds,
but ours is the only one which contains intelligent moral agents.
Or maybe there are a vast number of worlds which were created
by hopelessly incompetent deities. Etc. Once again, it seems that
suspension of judgement is the only reasonable course.
So, in sum: the available evidence no more supports the belief
that God exists than it supports belief in numerous incompatible
hypotheses. But, in such circumstances, it cannot be rational
to believe that God exists. On the other hand, there seems to
be no obvious way of deciding whether it is more likely that the
universe was created than that it was not created--though see
section four below for a discussion of one argument which might
be thought to do the trick. Since the total evidence fails to
support any one hypothesis more than its competitors, the only
rational course is to suspend judgement. Because it seems reasonable
to think that there are many ways in which the world could be
uncreated, we may suppose that we are here considering all
of the epistemically possible hypotheses concerning the origins
of the universe.
This completes the case offered on behalf of the strong agnostic
for her view that: it is neither rational to believe that God
exists, nor to believe that God does not exist. The case for
the second part of this claim may seem very weak; after all, if
one is prepared to assume that the available hypotheses are all
equally likely, then it seems that one is obliged to say that
the probability that any particular one of them is true is almost
infinitesimally small. And, in that case, isn't really true that
one disbelieves the hypothesis that God exists? No; the lottery
paradox shows that this can't be right. In a lottery with infinitely
many tickets, there is only an infinitesimal chance that any particular
ticket will win. Nonetheless, if I believe of each ticket that
it won't win, then I shall be obliged to conclude that no ticket
will win--i.e. I will be obliged to believe something false.
What goes for hypotheses about lottery tickets goes for cosmological
hypotheses too: for any particular hypotheses among those countenanced
above, I should think that it is epistemically very unlikely that
the hypothesis is true; but, nonetheless, I should not believe
that it is false.
2
There are some obvious lines of response to the outlined argument
for strong agnosticism. I shall discuss three related responses;
the combined effect of these three responses is, I think, fatal.
(i) The appeals to simplicity and Ockham's Razor:
The strong agnostic claims that there is no reason to prefer the
hypothesis that the God of traditional Western theology exists
to numerous logically incompatible hypotheses--and, more strongly,
that there is no reason to prefer any hypothesis about the causal
origins of the universe to any other. However, it might be suggested
by theists that this claim overlooks one significant consideration
which underwrites the choice of belief in God--namely: that
the hypothesis that the God of traditional Western theology exists
is the simplest hypothesis which explains the data, and
that this is a reason for supposing that it is more likely to
be true.[4] And, similarly, it might be suggested by atheists
that the strong agnostic's claim overlooks the importance of a
version of Ockham's Razor according to which, in circumstances
in which one lacks any evidence for an a posteriori existence
proposition, one has sufficient grounds to believe the negation
of that proposition.[5]
There are various replies available to the strong agnostic. First,
in response to the theist, she can observe that it is far from
clear that the hypothesis that the God of traditional Western
theology exists is the simplest hypothesis. On the one hand, some
hypotheses which hold that the universe is uncreated seem no less
simple.[6] And, on the other hand, it is not clear that the hypothesis
that the God of traditional Western theology exists is simpler
than, say, one of the numerous hypotheses involving a quite powerful
-- but not omniscient, quite knowledgeable--but not omnipotent,
morally indifferent deity. How is one to decide whether it is
simpler to suppose that God is omniscient or to suppose that the
creators have some--perhaps hard to specify--properties which
fall short of omniscience? Surely the fact that the properties
in question might presently be "hard to specify" does
not show, ipso facto, that the hypotheses in question are
more complex--for, in that case, our criterion of simplicity
depends upon the vagaries of current notation. Yet presumably
"likelihood of truth" ought not to be tied to current
notation in this way. Of course, it is not here denied that there
are good pragmatic reasons for using a criterion tied to the vagaries
of current notation in selecting hypotheses--e.g. in the sciences.
However, it will be insisted that these reasons have nothing to
do with truth; indeed, it will be said that we use simplicity
to choose between hypotheses precisely when we recognise that
the available evidence does not allow us to discriminate between
them in terms of likelihood of truth.
Perhaps the theist might reply that the simplicity of the hypothesis
provides a pragmatic reason for adopting the hypothesis that the
God of traditional Western theology exists. However, it is hard
to see that this could be an overwhelming practical reason. For
suppose we ask: what reason could we have for wanting to choose
between the competing hypotheses in question? If our reason is
that we think that a correct choice will be rewarded, then surely
practical reason will be on the side of refusing to choose. For,
no matter what our choice is, there are possible creators who
will reward us for making it, possible creators who will be indifferent
to our making it, possible creators who will punish us for making
it, etc. The only reasonable response seems to be to forget about
the whole matter, and to concentrate on something which is much
more tractable--namely, one's conduct in one's present life.
And if it is objected--as it would have been by Pascal--that
one's present life will go best if one chooses to believe in the
God of traditional Western theology, quite independently of whether
such a God in fact exists, then the correct thing to say is simply
that this is not credible. If there is no God, then any use which
is made of the mistaken belief that God exists will surely involve
costs which could be avoided without giving up any of the benefits
accrued. Perhaps the theist might respond with an appeal to Pascal's
wager. But--as I have argued elsewhere[7]--the strong agnostic
can reasonably contend that there are infinitely many possible
creators. Consequently, even if one thinks that the apparatus
of decision theory can be correctly applied in cases in which
there are infinite utilities, one will find that the value of
the wager on God can be trumped by other considerations. And,
in any case, there are many other deities whose existence would
ensure an equally good outcome. So there is no escape here.
Perhaps, despite the foregoing arguments, the theist will insist
that the decision to "forget about the whole matter"
involves a choice which reason cannot guarantee to be correct.
If it is all right to wager this way, why would it be wrong to
wager on belief in the God of traditional Western theology? Well,
on the one hand, the decision to "forget about the whole
matter" is the only non-arbitrary decision to be made in
the circumstances. When theoretical reason recognises that it
has next to no chance of obtaining the truth, then it opts to
avoid falsehood--compare the corresponding case of the lottery.
And, on the other hand, there are practical reasons in favour
of "forgetting about the whole matter." For, if the
argument advanced by the strong agnostic is cogent, then we are
all members of a community which is in the predicament that it
cannot answer certain "ultimate questions" about its
life. In these circumstances, surely what we owe to ourselves
and to each other is to make that part of our lives of which we
are certain--and which may be the whole of our lives--as good
as possible. That end will be hindered if individuals make different
wagers on the question of religious belief, as our history shows;
and there is reason to suppose that it won't be furthered even
in the unlikely event that we can all agree to wager on the same
deity. To do anything other than "forget about the whole
matter" is to give up certain goods for utterly uncertain
returns. In other words: the expected value of the sceptical wager
is greater than the expected value of the wager on God!
Second, in response to the atheist, the strong agnostic
can insist that the principle to which the atheist appeals --
viz. that in circumstances in which one lacks any evidence for
an a posteriori existence proposition, one has sufficient
grounds to believe the negation of that proposition--is also
refuted by the lottery paradox; this, by the way, explains why
the two objections were grouped together. The problem is that,
in some circumstances in which one lacks evidence, one will lack
evidence for every relevant a posteriori existence proposition
-- but one will also know that some relevant a posteriori
existence proposition(s) must be true. Thus, for example, although
there is no good reason to think that there are currently intelligent
beings inhabiting the fifth planet of the Vega system, the correct
view to have is simply that this claim is very unlikely
to be true.[8]
I conclude that the strong agnostic can reasonably insist that
straightforward appeals to simplicity and Ockham's Razor do not
defeat the case constructed in the first section of this paper.
Theoretical reason cares nothing about such considerations, since
it is primarily concerned with truth; and practical reason must
respond to other considerations which swamp the force of such
appeals.
(ii) The threat of global scepticism: A second
line of response to the argument of the strong agnostic is to
suggest that it proves too much. The strong agnostic relies on
the claim that, when confronted with hypotheses between which
the available evidence will not decide, one ought to withhold
belief from each of those hypotheses. But surely this will be
fatal to belief in other minds, belief in the external world,
belief in the reality of the past, belief that the future will
be like the past, belief in scientific theories, etc! For, in
all these cases, it is plausible to suggest that there is no evidence
which supports the commonly held views against sceptical alternatives.
Consider, for example, the case of belief in scientific theories.
Suppose that it turns out that there are genuinely conflicting
total scientific theories which account equally well for all the
evidence available to us. In that case, the considerations adduced
by the strong agnostic in support of her agnosticism suggest that
one ought not to believe of any particular such theory that it
is true.[9]
Perhaps the strong agnostic can dig in her heels. One person's
modus ponens is another person's modus tollens.
Why not insist that, in the circumstances envisaged, there would
be no point in arbitrarily believing of one of these theories
that it is the one true theory. Since the theories are ex hypothesi
equally empirically adequate, we should use whichever one is most
convenient for practical application, chosen according to the
circumstances in question. And, beyond that, we lose nothing if
we simply admit our ignorance. Note, by the way, that the strong
agnostic need not here take a stand on one important dispute between
realists and anti-realists. It may be that there is only one possible
empirically adequate total scientific theory, formulable in many
different notations. However, it may also be that--among the
genuinely conflicting total scientific theories which account
equally well for all of the evidence available to us--the one
true theory is only distinguished by facts which are inaccessible
to us. All that the strong agnostic needs is the concession that
there is now no good reason to believe that the former alternative
obtains. So there is no threat to the strong agnostic argument
here. And nor is there any threat from actual--as opposed to
ideal--science, for it is simply not the case that we have good
reason to believe that we have ever been confronted with genuinely
competing, empirically adequate, theories. The historical record
suggests that we have little reason to believe that any of our
theories is empirically adequate--though it does suggest that
there is good reason to suppose that later theories are more empirically
adequate than their predecessors. So we don't have reason to believe
that our scientific theories are true, even though we have the
best possible reasons for accepting them, i.e. for relying on
them in making predictions, giving explanations, etc.
Perhaps this response is not acceptable; clearly, there is room
for much further debate. But, in any case, no similar moves are
plausible in the remaining cases. While there is not universal
agreement that there is something wrong with constructive empiricism
-- and other less than robustly realist accounts of scientific
theories--there is more or less universal agreement that there
is something wrong with scepticism about the external world, other
minds, induction, and the past. Of course, there is little concensus
about exactly where such sceptics go wrong; but it does seem plausible
to think that such scepticism should be rationally avoidable.
Certainly, if the strong agnostic is saddled with the claims that
one ought to suspend judgement on the question whether there are
other minds, that one ought to suspend judgement on the question
whether the world was created just five minutes ago, that one
ought to suspend judgement on the question whether heavy objects
will fall towards the centre of the earth tomorrow, and that one
ought to suspend judgement on the question whether there really
are chairs, tables, and wombats, then this is good reason to think
that there is something wrong with strong agnosticism. But how
could the strong agnostic avoid the objectionable claims?
Perhaps like this: It is clear that there are cases--such as
lotteries--in which the type of argument deployed by the strong
agnostic is correct. In other words, in some cases in which
one is confronted by a range of hypotheses between which no available
considerations can decide, the reasonable thing to do is to suspend
judgement. This suggests that if the sceptical conclusions are
to be avoided, there must be "available considerations"
which decide in favour of, e.g., the hypothesis that there really
are chairs, tables, and wombats. But what could these considerations
be? Well, one feature of all the sceptical hypotheses is that
if one is to accept them, then one must suppose that oneself is
very special. On sceptical hypotheses about other minds, one supposes
that one is utterly different in kind from other apparent people.
On sceptical hypotheses about the existence of chairs, tables,
and wombats, one supposes that great pains have been taken to
deceive one--and, hence, one also supposes that one is utterly
different in kind from other apparent people. On sceptical hypotheses
about the similarity between past and future, one supposes that
the time in which one's own life takes place involves a special
sort of discontinuity. And on sceptical hypotheses about the reality
of the past, one supposes that part of one's own life has a special
status in the apparent chronicle of history. Now, the proposal
which the strong agnostic wishes to make is that it is partly
constitutive of reasonable belief that one does not hold beliefs
which require one to suppose that one is special in the way that
the sceptical hypotheses require one to believe that one is special.
Moreover, this proposal does serve to draw a line between the
argument defended by the strong agnostic and the sceptical conclusions;
one makes no assumption that one is special--in the way required
by sceptical hypotheses--in adopting any of the alternatives
to the traditional theistic hypothesis--and so the proposal
does eliminate sceptical arguments while leaving the agnostic
argument untouched.
Of course, there is an obvious problem with this line of defence
-- namely, that the strong agnostic seems to have given up the
idea that the only court of appeal in deciding betwen the truth
of competing hypotheses is the available evidence. Why should
hypotheses which require that one is special be rejected if this
consideration has no bearing on the truth or falsity of those
hypotheses? And, if it is constitutive of rationality that one
should reject such hypotheses, then why can't the opponents of
the strong agnostic insist that it is also constitutive of rationality
to be moved by considerations of simplicity? Perhaps it can be
conceded that there is an available position--i.e. the view
that, the alleged constitutive principle apart, the only thing
to which one can appeal in deciding between hypotheses is the
available evidence--but it is hard to see how the position could
be motivated. And, if the position can't be suitably motivated,
then it seems that the argument of the strong agnostic fails.
However, there may still be a plausible response available to
the strong agnostic, viz. to insist that it is simply obvious
that the case of cosmological hypotheses is relevantly like the
case of a lottery, but relevantly unlike the cases of implausible
scepticism, even though it is remarkably hard to say what these
relevant respects are. In order to show that the argument of the
strong agnostic is wrong, an opponent needs similarly to distinguish
the case of the lottery from the sceptical cases, and then to
show that cosmological hypotheses fall on the side of the sceptical
cases. Even though the argument of the strong agnostic is incomplete,
it surely presents a challenge which theists and atheists are
obliged to meet.
(iii) The rationality of ungrounded beliefs:A third line
of response can be taken to begin from a denial of the claim that
there is still a remaining challenge for theists and atheists.
In order to fend off the sceptical arguments, the strong agnostic
either appeals to a principle which is claimed to be partly constitutive
of rational belief, or else simply insists that cosmological hypotheses
are relevantly like lotteries. But in neither case does the strong
agnostic offer any evidence in support of these claims. Moreover,
it is hard to see what form such evidence could take. But, in
that case, it seems that the strong agnostic will need to insist
that either the principle or the claim--or both--is cognitively
basic--i.e. that there is nothing further which is suitably
independent to which one could appeal in order to defend them.
But, if this is right, then why shouldn't a traditional theist
claim that belief in the existence of God can be cognitively basic
-- i.e. unsupported by any independent evidence, and yet perfectly
justified, perhaps because supported by non-independent grounds?
Perhaps the strong agnostic might object that there are obvious
differences between the suggested status of the principle to which
she appeals and the suggested status of belief in God. In particular,
the principle to which the strong agnostic appeals is intended
to be a requirement on right reason; but the belief to which the
theist appeals is only claimed to be rationally permitted--i.e.
the theist is not making the surely ill-advised attempt to claim
that belief in God is rationally required even though there is
not the slightest evidence to support that belief. Perhaps, then,
it might be suggested that cognitively basic beliefs and principles
must be ones which can reasonably be thought to be obligatory.
More exactly: if one holds that a certain principle or belief
is cognitively basic, then one must hold that any reasonable person
in the same broad kind of epistemic situation in which one finds
oneself would also adopt that belief or principle.
This claim has been denied.[10] However, the strong agnostic might
well doubt that the denial is reasonable. For consider. If one
allows that certain beliefs or principles are cognitively basic,
and yet also allows that it is equally permissible to adopt conflicting
basic beliefs or principles, then surely there is nothing to sustain
one's own choice of beliefs and principles. If one genuinely allows
that it is equally permissible to adopt alternative basic beliefs
or principles, then surely one must hold that one's own basic
beliefs and principles are entirely arbitrary. But no-one can
think that her basic beliefs and principles are arbitrary; for
that is to throw reason to the winds. In particular, one must
think that one's basic beliefs are true, and that one's basic
principles are conducive to the formation of true beliefs. But
basic beliefs selected arbitrarily from amongst beliefs most of
which are false will almost certainly be false, and basic principles
selected arbitrarily from amongst principles most of which are
not conducive to the formation of true beliefs almost certainly
will not be conducive to the formation of true beliefs. No-one
can reasonably think that her basic beliefs and principles have
been arbitrarily selected.[11]
One possible response to this objection is to claim that there
can be theists who recognise no alternatives to their cognitively
basic belief in God: surely, if there are any such people, it
is rational for them to believe in God. This point can be conceded;
but only because it is irrelevant. Such people, if there are any,
are not sufficiently well-informed; they do not possess relevant
information about at least epistemically possible alternatives
to belief in God. However, if they did possess that information,
they would cease to be rational if they continued to maintain
that belief in God is cognitively basic. The aim of the strong
agnostic is to argue that no-one who is fully appraised of the
arguments developed by the strong agnostic can reasonably believe
in God; hence, people who are simply ignorant of the relevant
considerations cannot constitute counter-examples. And, of course,
the same point applies to people who are unable to understand
the arguments, or who willfully refuse to consider them, etc.
People who lack reasoning skills, or who refuse to use the skills
they have, cannot constitute counter-examples to the claims of
the strong agnostic.[12]
Another possible response is to suggest that there can be theists
who recognise no legitimate alternatives to their cognitively
basic belief in God. The idea here is that, from within the
religious life, belief in God can be seen to be well-grounded.
Given the appropriate religious background, there are conditions
and circumstances which "call forth" belief in God --
i.e. conditions and circumstances in which, on this view, a believer
will be correctly disposed to say: God is speaking to me; God
has created all this; God forgives me; etc.[13] Of course, the
theist recognises that there are many other possible stances which
share this "self-justifying" status;[14] so there is
no suggestion that the grounds in question might be available
even to those who do not believe. But, it will be said, while
it is true that there are no reasonable or evidential considerations
which will take one from an initially sceptical position to belief,
and while it is also true that the grounds for religious belief
-- drawn from revelation, religious experience and scripture --
are not suitably available to non-believers, nonetheless this
is simply irrelevant to the question whether theistic belief is
rational. What matters is that, in the light of the evidence as
she construes it, the theist's belief that God exists is manifestly
rational. Since the theist is not in the position of the non-believer,
she does not share his epistemic problem--and, indeed, need
take no account of it.
The strong agnostic may object that this attitude is indefensible.
Surely, if it is conceded that belief in God is just one among
many possible views which shares all of the epistemic virtues
of belief in God, then the maintenance of any one of those views
must be entirely arbitrary. And, in that case, it cannot be rational
to persist with any one of them. If there is no viewpoint-independent
consideration--i.e. consideration which is common to the range
of views--which favours the adoption of one of the views, and
yet it is conceded that no view is in any way epistemically superior
to any other, then it really is unreasonable to adopt any one
of those views. After all, in adopting a particular view, one
must suppose that that view has the fundamental merit of being
true. But, if there is no further epistemic virtue which the view
has, then what reason can there be for thinking that it is the
one which it true? Indeed, wouldn't the adoption of one of these
views--e.g. belief in the God of traditional Western theism
-- be just like the adoption of one of the sceptical hypotheses
discussed earlier in that it requires an inappropriate belief
that one is "special."
I think that the strong agnostic is only partly right here. It
is true that, according to the epistemological picture under discussion,
epistemic agents are required to think that they are epistemically
special in the following sense: any rational agent should concede
that there are no suitably independent external considerations
which show that her view is superior to rationally permissible
alternatives. However, there is nothing wrong with this consequence
of the picture--for the only genuine alternative to the picture
is, as the opponents of the strong agnostic earlier insisted,
an untenable scepticism. That there are alternatives to one's
own views which are, in a suitably external sense, epistemically
just as good, does not give one any reason to think that the views
which one has are probably false. A rational agent will persist
with the views which she has until she is shown that she can improve
her view by changing it.
Why then does the position of the strong agnostic have intuitive
appeal? I think because of a confusion between rules of dialectical
debate and epistemic principles. In debate, and hence in philosophical
argument, the only considerations to which useful appeal
can be made are those which are acceptable to all participants.
Hence, if one supposed that the project of philosophy is to justify
the view which one holds in debate, then one would need to suppose
that such justification would procede from principles agreed to
by all reasonable persons. But that just shows that this is a
bad conception of the project of philosophy. For it is simply
misguided to think that any world-view can be defended in this
way by appeal to purely external considerations.[15]
Of course, it should now be clear why I said that strong agnosticism
fails because the two kinds of principles upon which it relies
cannot be plausibly conjoined. On the one hand, the principle
that in circumstances in which the available evidence no more
-- and no less --supports p than it supports logically incompatible
hypotheses p1, ..., pn, ..., one ought to suspend judgement between
all of the hypotheses p, p1, ..., pn, ... . is clearly correct
if "the available evidence" is taken to include internal
considerations, but also clearly incorrect if "the available
evidence" is taken to include only external considerations.
But, on the other hand, this is just to deny the second required
principle, viz. that it is possible to characterise a suitable
notion of evidential support which does not rely upon a relativisation
to background assumptions--theories, points of view.
In sum: strong agnosticism fails because it does not respect the
tenets of methodological conservatism. There cannot be an obligation
on reasonable persons to believe only what is required by suitably
independent evidence--for, under this obligation, subjects would
not be able to believe all kinds of things which it is quite clear
they ought to believe. Moreover, there is no way for the strong
agnostic to suitably motivate her response to the threats
posed by various kinds of scepticism and by the possibility of
appeals to simplicity and Ockham's Razor--for, once the demand
for external evidential motivation lapses, the plausibility
of the claim that these responses are externally motivated simply
evaporates.
3
Given the strong agnosticism fails, one attracted to an agnostic
position should retreat to weak agnosticism. Moreover, the reason
given for the failure of strong agnosticism suggests that this
retreat should be easily accomplished--for, given the precepts
of methodological conservatism to which the opponents of the strong
agnostic appealed, it is surely plausible to think that there
are no suitably external considerations which must lead a reasonable
weak agnostic to give up her position. However, this will only
be so if the precepts of methodological conservatism are acceptable
-- so we shall now turn our attention to them.
The epistemological precepts under consideration has been forcefully
enunciated and defended by Gilbert Harman, in his book Change
In View.[16] The most important principle is the Principle
Of Conservatism: One is justified in continuing fully to
accept something in the absence of special reason not to.
An important subsidiary tenet is that one should subscribe to
the Principle Of Positive Undermining--viz. that one
should stop believing that p whenever one positively believes
one's reasons for believing that p are no good--but not
to the Principle Of Negative Undermining--viz. that one
should stop believing that p whenever one does not associate one's
belief in p with an adequate justification, either intrinsic or
extrinsic. There are yet further principles--e.g. The
Principle Of Clutter Avoidance and The Interest Condition
-- which form important planks in the theory, but these will not
concern us here. This approach to epistemology has numerous merits,
not least that it serves to defuse debates about various previously
controversial issues--e.g. debates about various kinds of philosophical
scepticism. However, rather than emphasise these merits, I shall
instead consider some potential difficulties.
Initially, the most plausible objection to this approach to epistemology
lies in the suggestion that it conflates "internal"
and "external" justification. Thus, for example, Huw
Price claims that Harman fails to distinguish between "an
'external' justification of a principle or habit of belief revision,
which aims to show that it is somehow useful or appropriate to
conform to a certain rule; and an 'internal' justification which
aims to provide the kind of reason to which an agent could actually
appeal in support of an application of the principle in question."
Price then goes on to observe that "[Harman's Principle Of
Conservatism] is plausible only if "justified" is taken
in the external sense. Thus if we have always believed in the
existence of Ralph (the Great One), our continuing to do so may
well exemplify a useful habit of conservatism, painfully acquired
in the evolution of the species. But when we encounter someone
who believes instead in Stella (the Great One), and hence feel
the need to justify our faith, our long and unblemished record
gives us no reason to keep it."[17]
Various responses to this objection may be viable; I think that
what should be resisted is the suggestion that, when one encounters
an apparently reasonable person who holds a position which contradicts
the position which one espouses, one thereby incurs an
obligation to find suitably external justificatory reasons which
support one's own position. Of course, one ought to have a --
possibly causal--story about how the other person has gone wrong
-- perhaps they were mislead by false testimony even though they
were perfectly justified in accepting that testimony, etc. --
but there is no reason to think that this story should seem anything
other than question-begging to the one with the conflicting view.
Recall how difficult it has proved to find non-question-begging
defences for induction. That suitably external defences seem to
be unavailable does not give any of us the slightest reason to
give up our inductive practices. In order to persist with one's
belief in Ralph, one does not need to find reasons which would
lead the previously uncommitted to believe in Ralph and not in
Stella; rather, all one needs is a differential causal explanation
of how the believers in Stella came to have those false beliefs
-- compare the strategy, available to theists, which ascribes
the error of atheists and agnostics to the effects of sin. Of
course, one can't merely say: "I subscribe to the Principle
of Conservatism, so I have a sufficient reason to continue to
believe in Ralph." But one can say: "Because I subscribe
to the Principle of Conservatism, I hold that it is sufficient
for me to find "internal" reasons--i.e. reasons which,
from an external standpoint, may seem to be entirely question-begging
-- in order to justify my continued belief in Ralph rather than
Stella." One does not need to suppose that one's reasons
are available to other points of view in order to continue to
accept them as reasons.
On the basis of this rather brief discussion, I conclude that
Harman's epistemological proto-theory--which is clearly closely
related to the views of those theists who appeal to the proper
basicality or proper unarguedness of religious beliefs--is a
very promising platform for the support of weak agnosticism. Of
course, more would need to be said to persuade the unconvinced;
but it is beyond the brief of the present paper to try to do so.
And, in any case, by the lights of the underlying epistemological
theory, there may not be any point in pressing on with an attempt
to persuade the unconvinced! Such people should read this paper
as an argument for a conditional thesis, viz. that by the lights
of the presupposed epistemology, weak agnosticism is a defensible
position.
Even those who are prepared to countenance or espouse the underlying
epistemology may feel that there remains a pressing objection
of principle, viz. that weak agnosticism is inconsistent in its
treatment of sceptical religious hypotheses and other sceptical
hypotheses. If the weak agnostic is not prepared to accept or
reject the many conflicting hypotheses about the cosmological
origins of the universe, why isn't she similarly prepared neither
to accept nor reject conflicting hypotheses about the age of the
universe, or the nature of the external world? Isn't this simply
an inconsistency on her part? Not at all. There is no good methodological
precept which says that a rational person will have a definite
opinion about everything; indeed, it seems plausible to suppose
that, for any reasonable person, there will be many controversial
questions about which she simply suspends judgement. And, in those
cases, one correct way to represent her epistemic state is to
claim that she is unable to decide between a range of competing
hypotheses. Of course, there may be costs to explicit suspensions
of judgement, in the form of the complexity of the representations
involved; but these costs are traded against what will seem to
be improved prospects of avoiding error, etc.
4
Despite the argument of the preceding section, there are some
objections to weak agnosticism which remain to be discussed. In
particular, there are three objections which suggest that weak
agnosticism is actually inconsistent or, strictly speaking, unbelievable.
I shall consider these objections in turn.
(i) The Deistic alternative: There is an argument, inspired
by an argument which Peter Forrest uses against David Lewis' modal
realism, which suggests that it is more reasonable to believe
that there are creators than it is to believe that the world is
uncreated.[18] Of course, the purported upshot of this argument
is only that the weak agnostic should retreat to deism
-- i.e. it is not suggested that this argument could motivate
a shift to theism: Corresponding to any uncreated world, there
are infinitely many created worlds, each with a different creator.
Consequently, the odds are infinitely in favour of the hypothesis
that our world is created; it is almost vanishingly unlikely that
our world was not created. So we ought to believe that the world
has creators.
David Lewis has suggested one way to respond to the above argument
-- namely, to claim that it can be paralleled to its discredit.[19]
On one way of partitioning the integers, there are infinitely
many non-prime numbers for each prime number. Consequently --
following the above argument--if an integer is chosen at random
I ought to believe that it is non-prime. However, on another way
of partitioning the integers, there are infinitely many prime
numbers corresponding to each non-prime number. Consequently --
following the above argument--if a number is chosen at random,
I ought to believe that it is prime. So, I have two equally good
arguments which lead to the conclusion that, if a number is chosen
at random, I ought to believe both that it will be prime and that
it will be non-prime. Clearly, then, both arguments are to be
rejected, along with the argument which purports to make trouble
for agnosticism.
Lewis' objection refutes the argument which I initially gave:
the only probabilistic arguments which one can make about infinite
cases are ones in which one has no relevant choices to make about
the partitioning of the probability space.[20] However, suppose
that I had argued as follows: I have no idea whether or not
the world which we actually inhabit was created. However, there
are infinitely many worlds which differ from it at most in that
they have creators, different from the creators, if any, which
it actually has--and there is only one world which differs from
it at most in having no creators. So, among the relevant possibilities,
there are infinitely many worlds which have creators, and only
one which is uncreated. Consequently, there is next to no chance
that the world which we actually inhabit is uncreated. In
this case, Lewis' response is not available. This argument is
solely about the actual world and worlds relevantly like it, not
about all the possible worlds which there are. Consequently, there
is no partition which can be gerrymandered by a Cantorian argument.
So if this argument is to be defeated, some other response is
required.
The new argument requires the assumption that there is only one
way in which a world like ours could be uncreated. But--as I
noted earlier--an agnostic will not be prepared to grant this
assumption. She will say that, for all she has good reason to
believe, there may be infinitely many different ways in which
an uncreated world can arise. Perhaps worlds are created in pairs,
or triples, or quadruples, or etc. Perhaps worlds are randomly
distributed--like raisins in a plum-pudding--throughout some
higher-dimensional space in which they arise as the result of
some acausal process which occurs in that space. Etc. Since the
agnostic sees no reason to think that it is no more likely that
the world is uncreated than it is that the world was created according
to one particular hypothesis about that act of creation, she has
no reason to accept the modified version of Forrest's argument.[21]
Agnostics can reasonably resist deism.
(ii) Proofs and other evidence: There are theists and atheists
who will continue to insist that weak agnosticism is unreasonable
because the existence--or non-existence--of God can be demonstrated
by arguments which appeal only to uncontroversial evidence. Thus,
for example, there are theists who maintain that there are rationally
compelling ontological, and/or cosmological, and/or teleological,
and/or moral, and/or other arguments which establish the conclusion
that God exists; and there are atheists who maintain that there
are rationally compelling ontological, and/or moral, and/or other
arguments which establish the conclusion that God does not exist.
I think that such theists and atheists are mistaken. While they
may be entirely within their rights to suppose that the arguments
which they defend are sound, I do not think that they have
any reason to suppose that their arguments are rationally compelling
-- i.e. that they provide reasonable opponents with compelling
internal reasons to change their views. Of course, some will find
this contention controversial--but I cannot hope to provide
a detailed defence here. Perhaps it is worth making the following
point. It surely should be granted that, at least prima facie,
there can be reasonable theists, atheists, and agnostics--for,
after all, there are undeniably sensitive, thoughtful and intelligent
people who fall into all three camps. Of course, it could conceivably
turn out that, e.g., there can only be reasonable agnostics in
that undemanding sense of "reasonable" in which reasonable
persons can hold unobviously contradictory, or unobviously unnecessarily
complex, or unobviously unnecessarily explanatorily weak views,
etc. But it seems to me to be clearly absurd to suppose that there
are currently available arguments which should show, to the satisfaction
of all, that members of two of the camps have views which are
unobviously contradictory, or unobviously unnecessarily complex,
or unobviously explanatorily weak, etc. Members of each of the
camps may have causal hypotheses which explain how their opponents
come to possess false views; but these hypotheses ought not do
anything to impugn the rationality of the maintenance of those
views.
(iii) The problem of other attitudes:Some people may be
inclined to object that weak agnosticism is unliveable. Could
one really carry on the projects of a normal life if one were
not prepared to rule out, e.g., the hypothesis that the world
is the product of a malevolent deity? Wouldn't doubts about the
value and meaning of life cripple one's ordinary conduct?
I don't see why. Earlier, I had my strong agnostic claim that
the only reasonable thing to do in the face of such worries is
to forget about them. This seems right. It is a psychological
question--a matter of temperament--which decides whether one
could be a weak agnostic. Why shouldn't one think that value is
there to be created or pursued regardless of the truth of cosmological
hypotheses? Perhaps there will be a nice or nasty surprise later
on; and perhaps not. Perhaps there is much more to the
universe than meets the non-metaphysical, non-theological eye;
but, then again, perhaps not. What good could possibly be served
by worrying about these possibilities now?
Perhaps this response is unconvincing. Certainly, I concede that
more should be said. Perhaps, when that more is said, I shall
have been forced to shift ground to a fallibilist atheism--i.e.
to a position which treats the alternative cosmological hypotheses
as definitely ruled out, but which leaves room for a higher-order
concession of the possibility of epistemic error--c.f. the "paradox
of the preface." However, for now, it certainly seems
to me that weak agnosticism remains a liveable option.
Notes
[1] This paper began life as an ill-advised attempt to defend
strong agnosticism. In this form, it was read to a session of
the AAP in Brisbane in 1992, and to a colloquium in Wollongong.
I am grateful to Fred Kroon, David Lewis, Peter Forrest, Scott
Shalkowski, Joe Mintoff, and others, for convincing me that the
position which I had endeavoured to defend was hopeless.
[2] As a reader for the journal kindly pointed out to me, there
is a sense in which everyone can admit that religious experiences
occur: for people do report having experiences which they take
to be perceptions of God. But then, won’t the acceptance
of some kind of principle of credulity require one to regard these
reports as prima facie evidence that such people have veridical
perceptions of God? No. The reported content of these experiences
is compatible with ever so many hypotheses about the nature of
the creators of the world, including hypotheses involving neglectful
or deceptive creators, and hypotheses on which there are no creators.
Hence, all that a reasonable principle of credulity could require
is that one accept that such people do have experiences with the
reported content; that these people take the content of these
experiences to be experiences of a particular deity should not
provide one with any reason to suppose that the experiences
really are of that deity. Indeed, more strongly, one could not
take these experiences to be of a particular deity unless one
had come to believe in the existence of that deity. (It should
also be noted that principles of credulity must be carefully constrained:
reports of experiences of alien spacecraft landing in suburban
backyards surely should not be taken to constitute even prima
facie evidence that there have been alien spacecraft landing
in suburban backyards.)
[3] See, for example, John Leslie “Modern Cosmology And The
Creation Of Life” in McMullin, (ed.) Evolution And Creation.
Leslie has discussed these issues in numerous other publications.
[4] This line of defence is inspired by the work of Richard Swinburne.
See The Existence Of God, Oxford: Oxford University Press,
1979, especially pp.53-57
[5] See Robert McLaughlin (1984) “Necessary Agnosticism?”
Analysis 44, pp.198-202.
[6] This point has been well-argued by John Mackie. See The
Miracle Of Theism Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982, especially
pp.100-101.
[7] “On Rescher On Pascal’s Wager” International
Journal For Philosophy Of Religion 30, 1990, pp.159-168
[8] Robinson, op. cit, writes: “ ‘A three-headed hippogriff
is alive and well right now on the fifth planet of the Vega system.’
If I followed this claim with the frank admission that I had no
grounds at all for it, you might be inclined to reject it out
of hand.” (p.198) The strong agnostic concedes that the admission
that one has no grounds for one’s assertion would remove
any reason for others to accept what one says--but this is not
to concede that it gives those others reason to positively disbelieve
it. Of course, the others might well have good independent reasons
for thinking that the claim in question is very unlikely
to be true--but that is a different issue.
[9] This line of response is inspired by the early writings of
Alvin Plantinga. See, especially, God
And Other Minds Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1967.
[10] See, e.g., Plantinga, A. “Reason And Belief In God”
at p.77; and Wolterstorff, N. “Can Belief In God Be Rational
If It Has No Foundations?”, especially at pp.176ff. Both
of these papers are in Plantinga, A. and Wolterstorff, N. (eds.)
(1983) Faith And Rationality: Reason And Belief In God
Notre Dame: Notre Dame University Press.
[11] The strong agnostic should probably add a qualification here.
If one were first-personally dissociated from certain beliefs,
then it might be possible for one to think that those beliefs
had been arbitrarily selected. Moreover, there might be a thin
sense of “rational” in which such beliefs could nonetheless
be rational. However, the crucial point would still remain: One
could not give unreserved first-personal endorsement to such beliefs.
In a suitably thick sense of “rational”, beliefs which
cannot be first-personally endorsed are not rational. See Robert
Dunn “Attitudes, Agency, And First-Personality” (forthcoming).
[12] Wolterstorff, op. cit. makes much of the points dismissed
in this paragraph: see, especially, p.155.
[13] See, e.g., William Alston (1983) “Christian Experience
And Christian Belief” in Plantinga and Wolterstorff, op.
cit, at pp.104-105.
[14] Consider, for example, belief in a morally deficient deity,
God*, who doesn’t care for us much at all--there are other
worlds which she created which she likes much better--but who
nonetheless presents herself to people in the guise of an omnibenevolent
being. On this view--which might well seem better able than
orthodox theism to explain the amounts and kinds of evils in the
world--conditions and circumstances will call forth certain
beliefs: God* is speaking to me; God* has created all this; God*
is trying to convince me that she cares for me; etc. From within
this view, belief in God* will seem to be just as well-grounded
as belief in God seems from the viewpoint of the orthodox theist.
[15] Perhaps an opponent might dig in her heels, and insist that
her world is the only reasonable world-view. Even if she were
right, this would be a pointless thing to say; her opponents would
surely feel themselves equally entitled to make the same kind
of claim about themselves. Two possibilities seem to arise: (i)
the parties to the debate simply agree to differ, but each insists
in her heart that she alone is rational; (ii) the parties
agree to differ, but each alone insists that she is right
(or more nearly right). To me, it seems clear that the
second outcome is preferable.
[16] Gilbert Harman (1986) Change In View: Principles Of Reasoning
Cambridge, MA: M.I.T. Press (Bradford Books)
[17] Huw Price (1988) “Review Of Change In View”
Philosophical Books 29, pp.38-41, at pp.38-39.
[18] See “Occam’s Razor And Possible Worlds” Monist
65, 1982, pp.456-464
[19] On The Plurality Of Worlds Oxford: Basil Blackwell,
1986, at pp.119-121
[20] Consider the following case, which I owe to David Lewis:
A fair die is to be tossed infinitely many times. You are to be
assigned one toss; you are then to estimate the chance that it
is a six. Why should you not reason as follows: Whichever toss
I am allotted, the chance that I shall get a six is one-sixth.
So I know already that the chance that I get a six is one-sixth.
Answer: No reason at all. The choice of a partition of the probability
space must respect the fact that you will first be assigned a
toss. Partitions which combine outcomes from different tosses
are irrelevant, since they fail to respect this fact. However,
in the arguments about prime numbers and creators, there is no
relevant fact which only one of the partitions manages to respect.
Perhaps it might be objected that the argument about prime numbers
fails to take into account the way in which we grasp the natural
numbers, viz. according to the standard ordering: 1, 2, 3, ...
Isn’t this a reason for saying that, really, we ought to
think it vanishingly unlikely that a number chosen at random will
be prime? No: if a natural number really is chosen at random --
say, by an omnipotent and omniscient deity--then the argument
given by Lewis is correct. Of course, it is impossible for any
of us to make a genuinely random choice from amongst all of the
natural numbers--but so what?
[21] It may be worth noting that Lewis can make a similar response
to Forrest. Forrest’s argument is as follows: There are
infinitely many worlds which differ from the actual world at most
in that they have epiphenomenal stuff in some places and not in
others, but only one world which differs from the actual world
at most in that there is no epiphenomenal stuff anywhere. So we
should believe that it is overwhelmingly likely that our world
contains epiphenomenal stuff. Now, Lewis allows that, for
all he knows, there may be qualitatively indistinguishable worlds.
But, if there are infinitely many worlds which are qualitiatively
indistinguishable from a world which differs at most from the
actual world in that it has no epiphenomenal stuff, then Forrest’s
argument won’t work. So Lewis can say: Sure, for all we know,
there might be epiphenomenal stuff; but then again, there might
be infinitely many worlds which are qualitatively indistinguishable
from a world which differs at most from the actual world in that
it has no epiphenomenal stuff. There is no obligation to accept
the premise which is required by Forrest’s argument. (Note,
by the way, that it simply does not follow from this response
that a modal realist ought to believe either that there
is epiphenomenal stuff or else that there are infinitely many
worlds which are qualitaitively indistinguishable from a world
which differs at most from the actual world in that it has no
epiphenomenal stuff anywhere.)
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