My Blog Has Moved!

I was having problems with blogger.com and have moved everything to wordpress.com. My new blog address is: http://integralthomism.wordpress.com/

See you there,
Nathaniel

The Impossibility of Something Coming From Nothing

Recently I have noticed quite a few atheists objecting to the principle of causality in order to stop "first cause" arguments for God's existence. Although it is insane to believe that something can actually come from nothing, I will nevertheless come to the aid of the self-evident. Here is at least one way to defend the principle. It uses, of course, the distinction between necessary and contingent beings. Yes, I am somewhat obsessed with this distinction, but I am constantly being amazed by how much argumentative mileage one can get from it!


Things that exist are either necessary beings or contingent beings. A necessary being is that which contains within itself all that is necessary for its existence, it is not dependent on something other than it to exist. A contingent being is that which does not contain within itself all that is necessary for its existence, it does depend on something other than it to exist.
The contingent being does not have the wherewithal in itself to make it different from nothing (since left to itself it does not exist and thus is no different from nothing), something besides it and nothing must be introduced in order to make it truly distinct from nothing. This “something” cannot be nothing, for nothing does not make something distinct from nothing. It therefore must be something that is different from nothing. Thus a contingent being cannot pop into existence without the aid of something other than nothing.
A necessary being could not come into existence for the following reason (although a necessary being could exist for all of eternity): Let some necessary being (X) come to be. Now clearly the moment before X came to be it was possible for it to come to be, otherwise one would say that what came to be was impossible. But before X came to be, it did not exist. Similarly before X came to be, that which is impossible (a square–circle for example) did not exist either. But there must be something that makes the existence of X possible but does not make a square-circle possible, otherwise there would be no legitimate reason to say that X is possible but a square-circle is not. What makes that which is possible different from that which is impossible? It cannot be nothing, because nothing makes nothing distinct. Therefore what makes the possible distinct from the impossible is something that is not nothing. Therefore there is something other than nothing that makes X possible but does not make a square-circle possible But that which allows the possibility of the existence of X is something X depends on for its existence. But it was said earlier that a necessary being does not depend on anything else for its own existence. Therefore X is not a necessary being which is contrary to what we said earlier. Therefore no necessary being can come into existence.
Thus if anything comes into existence it must be a contingent being. And if it is a contingent being, it depends on something other than itself and nothing for its existence. Hence something cannot come from nothing.

Methodic Doubt, Cartesianism, and Realism

What is methodic doubt? Roughly speaking, methodic doubt can be described as the systematic rejection (or at least suspension) of all beliefs or claims on reality that is not ultimately grounded upon truths that are self-evident. It is systematic insofar as it tries to be consistent, and pursues the truth in an unbiased fashion regardless of where it leads or reveals itself. Methodic doubt puts its trust in the workings of reason alone. Methodic doubt’s rejection of ungrounded beliefs or ideas is not categorical in the sense of never allowing them to reemerge as candidates of truth in the future, but is rather a temporary rejection. These ideas may be taken up again or proven to be true later on, but only after having been refortified on the rock of certainty. Finally, by self-evident truths, proponents of methodic doubt may mean one of two things: 1) that which cannot even be conceived or imagined to be false, or 2) that which we do not have any sufficient reason to doubt and do have every reason to accept. One cannot mean both at once, at least not practically speaking. If one is to go about using methodic doubt in philosophical reasoning, one must fall into one camp or the other, not both (unless one is to fall into contradiction). It is this division of the different ways of looking at the self-evident or the starting points of philosophy that ultimately divide the various historical systems of philosophy into two.

One way of doing philosophy begins with, as its foundation, those ideas or beliefs that cannot be thought or even imagined to be false. Whatever our mind believes to be true, however natural this belief may be, must be scrutinized and put to the test of, what I will call, methodic doubt of the imagination, or imaginative doubt. According to this theory, until one stumbles upon some truth that one cannot imagine to be false, one cannot claim to know anything. This way of doing philosophy is perhaps best represented by the Cartesians, who historically grounded all knowledge upon the apparently indubitable awareness of the existence of a thinking process, or stream of consciousness if you like. They then derived, in a sort of inference or logical reasoning that if there is a process of thinking, there must be some underlying substance or being that undergoes this process. This is the “I” or “self” that is shown to exist in the famous statement: “cogito, ergo sum.”

The second way of doing philosophy begins, as mentioned before, with those ideas or beliefs that we are naturally inclined to accept as true and against which no evidence has been presented to shake their acceptance. According to this way of philosophizing, no rational non-philosopher denies the fact that there is an extra-mental world and that our senses are a source of knowledge. This trust in the senses and in the reality of the outside world is natural to man. It is the default position of humanity. And since, according to this view, there is no experience of ours or logical argument that contradicts this natural inclination, there is no reason to reject it and every reason to hold to it. This philosophy has been the most thoroughly presented by Aristotle and his followers, and is usually referred to as realism. I will call (at least for the present purpose) the type of doubt that is used in realism, realistic doubt.

Looking back upon these two ways, we immediately see how fundamentally different they are. This is even more apparent when one sees the dissimilar conclusions that logically follow from each. It is evident, therefore, that they cannot both be valid methods of philosophy. They are not two distinct paths to the same truths. Either imaginative doubt or realistic doubt is correct, not both. How then, are we to decide between the two? Will it be based upon some whim? Is it merely up to the individual to say: “I like realistic doubt. It feels right to me.”? Or can there be a rational justification for choosing one over the other? It is the purpose of this essay to attempt to answer this last question.

One easy way of revealing the incorrectness of a method or idea is to show that it contradicts itself, i.e. that it is self-refuting. If the adoption of an assumption leads to its own annihilation, then it is clear that the assumption was false. Now since imaginative doubting holds that anything that we can imagine to be false must be rejected, it follows that the idea that the intellect is capable of grasping reality and come to knowledge must itself be rejected. For the opposite is certainly imaginable. It is certainly possible that the intellect is an entity that is forever deceiving itself. Further if anyone objects to this, one could merely dismiss the objection as being a product of a broken machine and not to be taken seriously. In fact any thought, according to this hypothetical situation, that comes forth from the human intellect would be absurd, including this sentence. Certainly the validity of imaginative doubting, since it is a method developed by the intellect, would be in question. Thus the systematic application of imaginative doubting bankrupts itself. It doubts itself into absurdity.

Realistic doubting, on the other hand, does not lead to its own demise. For it can be shown through numerous examples and by reflection on our own manner of thinking, that this is the natural way of reasoning about the world. How could it be otherwise? We would have to say that we do not naturally accept to be correct the methodic doubt which demands that we accept those ideas or beliefs that we are naturally inclined to accept as true and against which no evidence has been presented to truly shake their acceptance. Thus realistic doubt is the correct method of doubt.

Now a Cartesian could still attempt to avoid “falling” into Realism in two ways. By using realistic doubt, he could conclude that the existence of the thinking self is the only natural belief. Or he could use realistic doubt to conclude that the existence of the thinking self is the only natural belief that is immune from evidence that hinders its acceptance. The first way would be laughable, since there are clearly many other things (including the exterior sensible world) that we naturally accept to be real or true. The problem with the second way, however, needs a little more explanation. The immediate response of a Realist should be the ask the Cartesian why he thinks this, or better yet why sensation and apprehension of the exterior world should be rejected. What evidence is there that “shakes” our inclination to trust the senses? Remember that the Cartesian cannot escape by using imaginative doubt, since that was shown to be an illegitimate method of rational discourse. A good Cartesian could only respond as his master did, by saying that sometimes his senses deceived him, therefore they cannot be trusted. The Realist would then immediately note that in order to know that our senses sometimes deceived us we would have to admit that there are times that the senses do not deceive us and that we are capable of telling the difference. If we were not able to tell the difference between being deceived and not being deceived, we would not be able to make the claim that there are times that the senses do deceive us. Further, the only way we could tell that the senses have deceived us would be to refer or compare the deceptive experience to a time when our senses did not deceive us. Thus it is impossible to provide evidence against the trustworthiness of the senses without at the same time admitting the trustworthiness of the senses. Thus Cartesianism is trapped. It cannot escape Realism via imaginative doubt, nor via realistic doubt. It then seems that Cartesianism has no rational foundation at all, and consequently leaving Realism as the only path to knowledge.

The Existential or Contingency Proof for God's Existence

After about five months without blogging, I finally have a new post. Last post I mentioned how only philosophy can answer the question about God's existence. Here is what I think to be the best proof. The proof is found in St. Thomas Aquinas' Summa Theologica, specifically the "second way", but it is understood more fully after reading his work "On Being and Essence."

There are a few problems with trying to do this online (where there are people with diverse backgrounds, philosophical systems, and scientific beliefs): 1) it requires a good understanding of Aristotelian terms and metaphysics, but I'll try to do my best to explain each step without going into too much detail. If you would like me to further explain anything, I will come back and modify it. 2) It requires a belief and confidence in logic and its implications. Someone may say that one cannot universally apply logic to the exterior world. My only response to such a statement could be the following: What makes you hold that belief? And why are you asking for a proof of god if you deny the use of logic? After that little preamble, I will try to begin.

All things that exist have essences (that which makes them what they are). If a thing derives its existence from something other than its essence, then it is contingent. In other words, if a thing's essence does not include existence, than it is necessarily caused by something else. This causer's (the other that brought the contingent thing into existence) essence either contains its existence or it itself is contingent. In which case it itself must have been brought into existence by something else. Now this causal series of contingent beings must stop at some being who is not contingent. If it did not stop at some non-contingent or necessary being, then there would exist a long chain of beings who all are contingent, but the chain itself is not. But the chain itself is just a collection of contingent beings, nothing more. Therefore there must be some necessary being which has brought this chain into existence. Okay, so we have established the existence of at least one necessary being (whose essence includes existence), who by definition cannot not exist.

But why can't there be many things, like electrons or energy or quarks, that are necessary beings. Let's see if there has to be only one....

Let's say there are many necessary beings. This is the tricky part. How could we distinguish them from one another? In other words, how are they actually distinct? They would have to differ in that their essences all have different essential traits that are required in order for them to exist. If this is the case, then those traits by which they differ will either be included in that trait which makes them a necessary being, or will be some essential trait that is distinct from that trait which makes them a necessary being. It cannot be the trait that makes them a necessary being, because they, from what we concluded before, all share this trait. So the cannot differ by it. Thus they must differ through some essential trait that is other than that which makes them a necessary being.

But this is impossible. For in order for a thing to exist all its essential attributes must exist too (otherwise they would not be part of its essence). But if the trait that makes it necessarily exist depends on some other trait in order for it to exist, it would then not necessarily make it exist. This is absurd. Therefore all the essences of necessary beings must be exactly alike, and differ in no way.
The only other possible way that any necessary beings could differ is if they differed "accidentally" (through traits that are not essential, but came from the outside). This would mean that the necessary being was once one thing, then brought something else into existence, which in turn acted upon the necessary being, turning it into two beings instead of one. This is strange to say the least, and ultimately impossible. If you would like me to go into that, I can as well.

Thus we have shown there to be one necessary being, through which all other beings inherit their existence. One can go on and show how this being is immaterial, intelligent, all-knowing, etc. through other proofs which I will go into, if you would like, in my next blog....

Finding God: The Argument from Contingency. Part 1

Most of the contemporary debates on the existence of God take place in the realm of the natural sciences. Perhaps the reason for this is that science, along with mathematics, is considered to be the most precise and certain field of knowledge. If it can be shown that God exists or does not exist based upon scientific evidence, it is thought, one will finally close the door on the most vital of questions.

The problem with this common opinion is that science as such has the prior obligation to examine matter and its various forms and motions alone. It therefore cannot touch the immaterial. Whenever science looks upon and tries to explain a particular phenomenon it will always try to give material and mechanistic causes. It cannot help but do so, since to act otherwise would be against its nature and method. This is because science can only investigate what can be experimented on and interacted with in a physical way. Science as such ignores the spiritual and is mute as to its existence.

The theologian, on the other hand, is in a similar predicament. He takes as a principle of his inquiries the existence of God. And since all of his arguments are based upon this principle, none of his arguments are helpful to the answering of this question.

What one usually sees, however, in public debates on this issue is a scientist against a theologian, or a scientist against a scientist. Yet neither of them are qualified to speak on the matter and will never be able to truly communicate with each other without some mediator. The two fields of knowledge are akin to two parallel planes. No matter how long the argumentation is extended, they will never be able to meet to form any definite conclusion. They will never cut into the space that separates them, that space which is the only realm where such a question as the existence of God can truly be discussed.

To whom then can we turn? Is there a field of knowledge that is capable of acting as the perpendicular between these parallel planes? The answer, of course, is found in philosophy which has historically always looked upon this question as its burden alone. For it is only through the analysis of being that one can touch upon the immaterial, and being as such is studied by first philosophy. Therefore, if we are to come to any rational conclusion about the existence of God, we must turn to what philosophy says on the matter.

On the Formation of Intellectual Habits

Sapere Aude! "Dare to know!" declares Immanuel Kant in his short essay What is Enlightenment?. By freeing himself from a self-imposed tutelage, so believes Kant, man is able to achieve enlightenment, to have the courage to use his own reason. Kant saw in the academics of his time (and especially of the time preceding his) a tendency to entrust their minds and moral beliefs to certain unquestionable authorities. Whether these authorities came in political or religious forms, or in an exaggerated reverence for antiquity, 18th century life was built upon prior principles and tradition. "If I have a book which understands for me, a pastor who has a conscience for me, a physician who decides my diet, and so forth, I need not trouble myself. I need not think, if I can only pay -others will readily undertake the irksome work for me." Such was, according to Kant, the common attitude of most people at the time. This tutelage of society under authority is self-imposed because man has not the courage to stray from the designated path, to leave behind the old and outdated and discover the new. Man must cast off the chains and make use of his own reason without the direction from another. Only then will he achieve true intellectual and spiritual freedom, true enlightenment.

As one continues to read Kant's essay, one cannot help but be moved by his energy and enthusiasm, his bold exhortation. Yet one is left asking himself: Is such an intellectual freedom truly realistic? Is each man's mind capable of handling such ungrounded movements? It is my intention to answer these questions.

We must first analyze the human intellect and see how it comes to the knowledge of things naturally. We see that all knowledge stands upon certain principles which are deemed by the knower as being, in a way, self-explanatory. For example the mathematician takes as his principles the notions of quantity and numerical difference, and he sees these notions as being independent, able to stand on their own; for we clearly experience quantity and numerical difference constantly in our lives. Such is the case with all knowledge. There are, however, two types of principles which exist in the mind: those which are truly self-evident (which all men hold as true) and those which only seem to be self-evident. An example of a truly self-evident principle would be the principle of contradiction: something cannot both be and not be in the same respect and at the same time. This everyone holds to be true and it cannot be denied (for in order to deny something, one has to invoke the principle of contradiction). Knowledge built upon truly self-evident principles is firmly valid. Knowledge which is built upon the only seemingly self-evident can only really be called strong opinion or belief.

Some questions immediately arise. We can see clearly where truly self-evident principles come: experience. We come to know the principle of contradiction through our experience of the exterior world. If you are A, you cannot be not A. And if you are not A you cannot be A. But where does the other type of principles come from? And why are they deemed self-evident by the intellect if they are not truly so? The answer to the first question is authority. Someone tells us something and because we trust them we take it as true. The answer to the second question is nature. When we are young we naturally trust our parents, family, and culture almost to the point of accepting what they say to be self-evidently true. I am not saying that this is a bad thing, for this natural instinct in the young is necessary (survival depends on it), but merely that it is a real thing and should be taken seriously. Now these seemingly self-evident truths become so deeply rooted in the intellect that they become like a second nature. And since nature is something permanent, what we learn from our parents and community is almost impossible to detach one's self from. Hence Aristotle says in the beginning of the Nicomachean Ethics that it is almost impossible for those who are not raised in the correct way to become virtuous, for they are so habituated in their vice that they are beyond reform. So it is with the intellect. If a man develops bad intellectual habits it becomes very difficult for him to achieve true and certain knowledge. Thus it becomes all important to raise one's children in the proper manner, and to be careful when choosing their educator.

We must now return to the questions raised by Kant's essay. First of all I believe that we are forced to say that complete "liberation" from our upbringing is altogether impossible, and even a partial "liberation" is difficult. And even if achieved, one would immediately be vulnerable to the hasty acceptance of new seemingly self-evident principles and would be "enslaved" once again. The reason for all this is that the human intellect is weak and needs assistance from others in order to achieve anything significant. This is not to say that the human intellect is incapable of understanding anything on its own, but that it is easily seduced from the truth. Therefore, even if Kant's enlightenment were possible, it would be undesirable, for each man would be isolated from others and would get no where. Therefore we must not be afraid to use the help of other wise men that have come before to guide us on the path to wisdom.

The Prerequisite of Philosophy

Philosophy, as it is commonly known, means the love of wisdom. Although this notion may not necessarily give a proper definition of the science, it nevertheless implies something fundamental about its object. Whatever sort of knowledge is gained in the doing of philosophy, it must make the knower wise in some way. This, of course, leads inevitably to the question: what is wisdom? To fully tackle such a large word and explain it comprehensively would take too long for our present purpose. Instead let us be satisfied with a rough definition. When we call someone wise, we ordinarily mean that he has some understanding of reality in a distinguished way. We do not call anybody and everybody wise, only someone who is superior in knowledge to the majority. This is important to note. The fact that some men are considered to be wiser than others necessarily implies the reality and intelligibility of the objective and extra-mental. How so?

To understand this let us assume the contrary and see what follows. If there is no sure objective reality that the human mind can grasp and understand, then all that each individual man would be able to claim to know would be his own sense-impressions and thoughts. Thus no man would be wiser than any other, since every individual is the best (in fact the only) judge of his own mental and sensory undergoings. Wisdom, then, would be a meaningless term. And if wisdom is a meaningless term, then philosophy would be a futile endeavor.

All of this leads to a very important conclusion. If philosophy is to be considered a serious science, one that is worthy of our time and attention, then it must be assumed that the human mind is capable of understanding the exterior world. The philosopher must believe, as a presupposition to his investigations, in the trustworthiness of the intellect. Thus the "Critical Problem" of Kant is banished from Philosophy. The philosopher must assume that the workings of our mind have a certain continuity with the workings of external nature. If he does not make this initial assumption, then he will eventually find himself making claims on reality while at the same time denying that the mind is capable of grasping reality.

If what we are saying is indeed true, then notable thinkers such as Hume and Nietzsche could not be considered real philosophers. Rather, they would be more appropriately called anti-philosophers, for they deceive their readers into giving up the hope of true objective knowledge. Skepticism and Relativism are not kinds or forms of philosophy; there are denials of philosophy.

To sum up, let us again state what we might call the prerequisite of philosophy: the assumption that the intellect, by its own power, is capable of grasping objective and extra-mental reality.