Copyright 1982 by

Baker Book House Company

ISBN: 0-8010-7070-8

Library of Congress Catalog Card No.: 82-70465

Printed in the United States of America

Scripture quotations are from the Revised Standard Version, copyrighted
1946, 1952, 1971, and 1973 by the Division of Christian Education of the
National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America.

For
Rebecca

Contents

Preface

Perhaps the most important and most enduring challenge to Christian belief is the problem of evil. For many thoughtful persons, evil in the world seems incongruous with Christian claims about the perfect goodness and absolute power of God. Other conceptions of God, of course, generate their own peculiar problems of evil, but the Christian conception raises the difficulty to greatest proportions. Christian theists claim so much for the nature and purposes of God that they have much to explain. As a Christian theist, my purpose in this book is to provide a response to the problem of evil. The response is primarily intended to remove the apparent incompatibility between God and evil, and thus avoid the atheistic conclusion which critics frequently reach. A secondary thesis is that the character of evil in the world actually supports a theistic conception of reality.

The book takes seriously the concern and arguments of thinkers who are not Christian theists, and hence may be sympathetically read by those who are not already convinced that theism is true. The study is based on a vast amount of technical literature on the problem of evil, but does not assume any sort of philosophical specialization on the part of the reader. This is not to deny, however, that some points can be given technical expression and defense. Therefore, the present treatment offers some thing both for the student and for the scholar.

The structure of the book is very simple. Chapter 1 records the disturbing presence of evil in human life and shows that it seems to damage the credibility of Christian theology. The next two chapters examine two different ways in which the problem of evil has been posed as a theoretical difficulty. Chapter 2 focuses on the logical version of the problem of evil and chapter 3 on the evidential version of the problem. After evaluating the relative strengths of these versions of the problem of evil, it is found that one particular formulation of the evidential version is most formidable: the argument from apparently gratuitous evil. The argument from gratuitous evil occupies the rest of the book. In chapter 4 this argument is analyzed and alternatives for reply are assessed. Chapter 5 contains a reply tracing the implications which the concepts of free will, natural law, and soul-making have for the issue of gratuitous evil in a theistic order. In chapter 6, what might be called the existential dimension of the problem of gratuitous evil is examined in light of the theoretical dimension.

A project such as this one is seldom a purely private undertaking. Three institutions have provided valuable assistance. I am grateful to the Institute for Advanced Christian Studies for timely grants which covered my research and writing during 1979 and 1980. I am also indebted to the National Endowment for the Humanities for the opportunity to do preliminary outlining at a 1978 summer seminar. Also, in 1978, the Faculty Research and Development Committee of Asbury College provided a grant for materials.

A number of individuals have greatly contributed to various phases of this project. I owe to Edward Madden, teacher and friend, the original inspiration for the book. His work on evil, frequently done in conjunction with Peter Hare, made me feel the force of the problem of gratuitous evil and the need for a response. I am indebted to Alvin Plantinga, Bruce Reichenbach, David Basinger, William Hasker, Paul Vincent, and James Hamilton for helpful comments on many ideas and arguments which are incorporated into the book. Mary Olson, Beverly Fischer, Sherry Plyman, Teri Conwell, Rose Heitkamp, and Nancy Baker conscientiously typed portions of the manuscript. Tim Lang diligently helped proofread the final draft.

Still, there is another whose influence on this book is more pervasive and profound than that of any other. My wife, Rebecca, made necessary sacrifices and gave sustaining encouragement throughout its preparation. So, as with any good thing that I have ever done, this piece is as much hers as it is mine. With both humility and pride I dedicate it to her.

                                                                                              Department of Philosophy

                                                                                              Asbury College

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1

The radical and pervasive presence of evil cannot be ignored or explained away. Whether evil occurs in natural catastrophes, such as epidemics and earthquakes, or in manmade horrors, such as the Holocaust and Jonestown, it meets us at every turn and forces each of us to ponder the meaning of existence. It is not surprising that, more than any other theme, the perennial problem of evil haunts those areas of inquiry which deal primarily with the nature and destiny of man: philosophy, theology, literature, art, and history. Neither is it surprising that every major World-view, whether religious, ethical, or political, proposes some insight into this vexing problem.

One of the deepest human impulses is the resistance to evil. Laymen and scholars attempt to explain, in their own ways, the phenomenon of evil. In practical life, the resistance to evil surfaces in efforts to minimize and combat the negative aspects of existence. However, the feebleness and failure of efforts to shut evil out, to master it, to understand it, simply exacerbate the problem. The problem is indeed an inveterate one and is no less serious today than it was centuries ago.

Over two thousand years ago, the subject of evil came under discussion in Aristotle's Poetics. Aristotle recognized that tragic drama presents a hero whose highest virtues somehow precipitate fault. The tragic hero represents the universal experience of mankind, and by emotional identification with his hamartia (sin, flaw), the audience undergoes catharsis (purging of the emotions).¹ Of course, the universal experience of mankind in dealing with evils of its own creation is not simply an emotional matter. The mind confronts the evils which threaten to destroy the fragile and fleeting goods of human life and searches for an answer. Perhaps an appropriate catharsis for the mind is harder for our generation to find than anything else.

Human moral evil is not the only force, which tends to thwart all that we hold dear. The best of us are sometimes hurt and even crushed by the impersonal forces of the universe. These forces know nothing of human agendas or purposes, and also call into question the significance of personal existence. Herman Melville captured this in Moby Dick. Captain Ahab of the Pequod, forty years a whaler in the first half of the last century, set out from Nantucket on what appeared to be a long whaling cruise. Little did anyone know that Ahab's journey was not seaman's business, but a quest for the meaning of life.

Ahab had lost a leg in an earlier encounter with Moby Dick, a great white whale, then the terror of the seas, and was now bent on destroying it. The captain was obsessed with the meaning of human existence in the face of overwhelming natural forces. Ironically, the whale was white, a color which normally symbolizes what is thought to be sacred and holy; but the whale was fearsome and hostile to human values, and in the end, triumphant. Ishmael, the only survivor, claims that in losing his life Ahab discovered its meaning.² The modem world knows all too well that this disturbing picture of life—its being ruined and finally snuffed out by forces beyond its control—is a realistic one. 

There are those who do not share the view that there is a capacity for evil in both man and nature. From the romantic optimism of Jean Jacques Rousseau to the technological optimism of Buckminster Fuller, some have sought to build a world in which sorrow and struggle are no longer the price of true happiness. The historian H. G. Wells expressed this position in A Short History of the World:

But the outbreak of World War II shattered Wells's fond dreams and elicited an increasingly pessimistic view of man's existence:

In spite of all my disposition to a brave-looking optimism, I perceive that now the universe is bored with [man], is turning a hard face to him, and I see him being carried along the stream of fate to degradation, suffering and death.⁴

Whether the universe or fate or man himself is blamed, when unbridled optimism gains ascendancy, it sooner or later becomes indefensible and is abandoned. The problem of evil refuses to be dismissed.

One does not have to consult the experience of mankind through the ages to recognize the depth and scope of the problem of evil. In this day of newspapers, radio, and television, every sensitive person is vividly aware of the pain and anguish of others. Images of starving children in Kampuchea, the brutal Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, political executions in Iran, a destructive earthquake in Italy, and countless other scenes impress upon our consciousness the disturbing presence of evil.

As contemporary persons ponder the bearing of evil on the meaning of human life, they are often tempted to conclude with Ecclesiastes: "Vanity of vanities! All is vanity" (1:2). The chorus in T. S. Eliot's Murder in the Cathedral echoes this pessimistic complaint:

               is no abiding stay.

        Ill the wind, ill the time, uncertain

               the profit, certain the danger.

        Evil the wind, and bitter the sea, and

                grey the sky, grey grey grey.⁵

In The Sacred Canopy Peter Berger writes that every religion imposes order and lawfulness on events and experiences which seem to be chaotic and destructive—most notably, the phenomena of suffering, evil, and death. According to Berger, religion, as a social enterprise, donates to the individual a nomos, or lawful explanation, for understanding the otherwise anomic features of his existence.⁶ In traditional terminology, religion provides a theodicy, or a "justification of the ways of God to man" (after John Milton). In the words of Berger's title, religion brings life under a "sacred canopy" by positing a higher meaning and authority. Berger is worth quoting at length on this point:

The anomic phenomena must not only be lived through, they must also be explained—to wit, explained in terms of the nomos established in the society in question. An explanation of these phenomena in terms of religious legitimations, of whatever degree of theoretical sophistication, may be called a theodicy. It is important to stress here particularly (although the same point has already been made generally with respect to religious legitimations) that such an explanation need not entail a complex theoretical system. The illiterate peasant who comments upon the death of a child by referring to the will of God is engaging in theodicy as much as the learned theologian who writes a treatise to demonstrate that the suffering of the innocent does not negate the conception of a God both all-good and all-powerful.  All the same, it is possible to differentiate theodicies in terms of their degree of rationality, that is, the degree to which they entail a theory that coherently and consistently, explains the phenomena in question in terms of an over-all view of the universe. Such a theory, of course, once it is socially established, may be refracted on different levels of sophistication throughout the society. Thus, the peasant, when he speaks about the will of God, may himself intend, however inarticulately, the majestic theodicy constructed by the theologian.⁷

The Challenge to Christianity

The problem of evil is most acute for orthodox Christian theology because two of its important beliefs seem to be incompatible. On the one hand, Christian theology af firms the unrivaled power, unlimited knowledge, and un relenting love of God. On the other hand, Christian theology recognizes the obvious fact that horrendous evils occur in God's created order. To many persons it seems that the Christian God—if He really exists and is the source and guarantor of value—would not allow the world to be as it is. This is the crux of the problem for Christian belief. Down through history, Christian theologians and philosophers have wrestled with this problem. Thoughtful and sensitive laity have also felt the need for at least a general explanation of evil.

It is obvious that the problem of evil is a major obstacle for Christian apologetics in our time. Some thinkers believe that unless Christians have a rational solution to the problem of evil they have no right to hold their distinctive theological position or to ask others to adopt it.⁸ Philosopher T. W. Settle argues that grappling with the problem of evil is a "prolegomenon to intellectually honest theology."⁹ Thor Hall proposes that the ability or inability to generate an answer to the vexing problem of evil is the index of the "reasonableness of theology." Hall says that Christian thinkers must "be capable of handling honestly the actualities of human existence (realities which we all know) while at the same time providing a framework for explicating responsibly the essential affirmations of the faith (affirmations which are given within the historical tradition)."¹⁰ Sensing the prominence of evil, and particularly the evil of suffering, in the modern mind's quest for meaning, Arthur McGill contends that "no theological investigation can be genuinely Christian which is not genuinely open to the unbeliever and which does not include the unbeliever in its probing efforts."¹¹Consequently, the nature of our response to the problem of suffering is a basic "test of theological method."

The purpose of this book is to arrive at a response to the problem of evil as it arises for orthodox Christian theology. Essentially, our response will support what is generally referred to here as Christian theism or just theism— the position that God exists and is omnipotent, omniscient, and wholly good. And further, our response will support Christian theism, not only by defending it from the attack based on the presence of evil, but also by showing that it explains the character of evil in a conceptually adequate way. 

Our concern with the theistic basis of Christianity may seem puzzling. Some critics, for example, note that the term theism involves applying to God impersonal, static concepts from classical Greek metaphysics (e.g., omnipotence and omniscience), as opposed to the personal, dynamic concepts of the biblical tradition (e.g., love and mercy). Hence, a defense of theism against the problem of evil, or any other rational objection for that matter, has little to do with maintaining true Christianity. However, this kind of criticism fails to recognize that theistic concepts are essential to orthodox Christianity. The fact that similar concepts occur in non-Christian or pre-Christian thought may simply be evidence that some truths about God are available to all. Orthodox Christians must hold that God is unlimited in power, knowledge, and goodness, though their distinctive emphasis is on the work of Jesus Christ and man's relation to Him. Assertions about God's perfect attributes constitute a large part of the theoretical foundation upon which claims about Jesus Christ, as well as other orthodox claims, make sense. If the foundation is removed, then the import of Christian theology is either altered or lost. As Norman Geisler maintains, "theism ... is a logical prerequisite to Christianity."¹² After all, Christian theology need not interpret the meaning of God's attributes in impersonal and static ways, but can provide more adequate and appropriate interpretations of them. So, it is quite legitimate to defend theism in response to the problem of evil.

The Classification of Evil

Evil indeed has many faces, faces with which we are all too familiar. It is standard to distinguish between moral and natural evils, and thereby introduce a measure of order into the myriad evils we experience. This distinction performs a helpful classificatory function, although there is occasional disagreement over what items to include in the two categories. The distinction also allows us to divide the general problem of evil into the subsidiary problems of moral and natural evil, and thus guides further stages of inquiry.

Let us consider some familiar proposals. Alvin Plantinga writes:

We must distinguish between moral evil and natural evil. The former is evil which results from free human activity; natural evil is any other kind of evil.¹³

Moral evil is evil that we human beings originate: cruel, unjust, vicious, and perverse thoughts and deeds. Natural evil is the evil that originates independently of human actions: in disease bacilli, earthquakes, storms, droughts, tornadoes, etc.¹⁴

Edward Madden and Peter Hare provide a similar classification:

Physical evil, we shall say, denotes the terrible pain, suffering, and untimely death caused by events like fire, flood, landslide, hurricane, earthquake, tidal wave, and famine and by diseases like cancer, leprosy, and tetanus—as well as the crippling defects and deformities like blindness, deafness, dumbness, shrivelled limbs, and insanity by which so many sentient beings are cheated of the full benefits of life. ... Moral evil ... denotes both moral wrong-doing such as lying, cheating, stealing, torturing, and murdering and character defects like greed, deceit, cruelty, wantonness, cowardice, and selfishness.¹⁵

Other authors do not depart far from this general approach to the distinction.

It seems that both Plantinga and Hick overextend the category of moral evil to cover even the pain one suffers as a result of another's wrongful action. Furthermore, it appears that Madden and Hare overrestrict the category of natural evil to exclude physical effects which occur due to human initiative. Would it not be better to resolve this ambiguity by recognizing that in some cases there are complex evils, such as a wrongful deed (or moral evil) and a painful condition (or natural evil) resulting from the deed? Actually, the human actions which cause some natural evils are not necessarily sinful or wrong, since much pain and suffering comes from accidental or inadvertent actions. Debate over the exact boundaries between natural and moral evils, an important distinction in clarifying our thinking about evil, could be continued indefinitely.

The classification of evils is certainly an important and perhaps necessary step toward generating a response to the problem of evil. However, the task of classifying various evils, as well as the larger task of rationally responding to the distinct problems they pose, may seem to proceed at a distance from the concrete reality of evil. Although the problem of evil is, in a legitimate sense, abstract and theoretical, it is a problem about real evils which occur to real people. The disturbing theoretical questions arise when actual evils are viewed in light of Christian theism, which affirms that a God of power and grace superintends the world. Not being able to reconcile the evils of existence with the belief in this kind of God can even add to the psychological anguish which people experience. A brief survey of the panorama of disturbing evils will help us bear in mind the experiential basis of the problem.

For some, the existence of very terrible and widespread evils suggests that there is no God who loves and cares for all. For example, there are many who have drawn an atheistic conclusion from Auschwitz, as theologian Eugene Borowitz explains:

The Holocaust is one of a long list of horrendous evils which seriously threaten if they do not destroy belief in God.

It is not always the dramatic, momentous evils which shake belief in God. On a smaller scale, it is frequently the innumerable common events and experiences of life which reveal the negative side of existence and make faith in God extremely difficult. Over a period of time, many evil events—bank robberies, even rapes—come to be accepted as routine or familiar. Contemporary journalism typically adopts a factual and objective style to report such tragedies. Notice the way in which Time magazine reported a needless infant death:

Also accepted as routine in the modern world are natural evils such as earthquakes, tidal waves, drought, starvation, and epidemics, which terrify, injure, and kill thousands upon thousands every year. No matter how routine various evils are taken to be, their cumulative effect on sensitive, thinking persons is frequently that of continual confirmation that this world, as well as whatever transworldly source it might have, is certainly not accommodated to human values.

When we move away from routine journalistic reports of evil and uncover more fully its marks on human life, the impact is, for some, overwhelming. In Miss Lonelyhearts, Nathanael West captures in vivid fashion the heartache and despair which are wrought in human life by blind physical events. Take this example from the beginning of the book:

Dear Miss Lonelyhearts— I am sixteen years old now and I don't know what to do and would appreciate it if you could tell me what to do. When I was a little girl it was not so bad because I got used to the kids on the block makeing fun of me, but now I would like to have boy friends like the other girls and go out on Saturday nites, but no boy will take me because I was born without a nose—although I am a good dancer and have a nice shape and my father buys me pretty clothes.

I sit and look at myself all day and cry. I have a big hole in the middle of my face that scares people even myself so I cant blame the boys for not wanting to take me out. My mother loves me, but she crys terrible when she looks at me.

What did I do to deserve such a terrible bad fate? Even if I did do some bad things I didnt do any before I was a year old and I was born this way. I asked Papa and he says he doesnt know, but that maybe I did something in the other world before I was born or that maybe I was being punished for his sins. I dont believe that because he is a very nice man. Ought 1 commit suicide?

Sincerely yours,

Desperate¹⁸

The disorders of the mind, continued Demea, though more secret, are not perhaps less dismal and vexatious. Remorse, shame, anguish, rage, disappointment, anxiety, fear, defection, despair—who has ever passed through life without inroads from these tormentors?¹⁹

There is no denying that men often fall victims to physical and psychological forces which are largely beyond their control.

Sometimes we fixate on the evils which persons suffer and undergo: a race is tortured, a woman is raped, a baby is fatally neglected. But the more subtle and terrifying side of evil must not be overlooked—its inextricable outworking in human thought and action. Persons not only undergo evil, but perform, inflict, and perpetrate evil. "Man's inhumanity to man," wrote Robert Burns, "makes countless thousands mourn." This personal aspect of evil most closely coincides with what the Bible describes as sin.

Fyodor Dostoevsky treats scornfully the comforting notion that man is always rational and good. In a famous passage from The Brothers Karamazov Dostoevsky protests such wild optimism about humankind:

I can't endure that a man of lofty mind and heart begins with the ideal of the Madonna and ends with the ideal of Sodom. What's still more awful is that a man with the ideal of Sodom in his soul does not renounce the ideal of the Madonna, and his heart may be on fire with that ideal, genuinely on fire, just as in the days of youth and innocence.²⁰

The theme of the depravity and perversity of man is a recurrent one in great literature.

Robert Louis Stevenson vividly illustrates man's peculiar nature in his frightening fable of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The kind and decent Dr. Jekyll describes his discovery of the power of the transforming drug:

As time went on, the thought of evil no longer filled Jekyll with terror:

I sat in the sun on a bench; the animal within me licking the chops of memory; the spiritual side a little drowsed, promising subsequent penitence, but not yet moved to begin. I began to be aware of the temper of my thoughts, a greater boldness, a contempt of danger, a solution of the bonds of obligation.²²

The apelike creature had diabolically gained control of Jekyll:

This was the shocking thing; that the slime of the pit seemed to utter cries and voices; that the amorphous dust gesticulated and sinned; that what was dead, and had no shape, should usurp the offices of life. And this again, that the insurgent horror was knit to him closer than a wife, closer than an eye; lay caged in his flesh, where he heard it mutter and felt it struggle to be born; and at every hour of weakness, and in the confidence of slumber prevailed against him, and deposed him out of life.²³

Dr. Jekyll confessed the terrible truth that he was radically both natures: "It was the curse of mankind that these incongruous fagots were thus bound together—that in the agonized womb of consciousness these polar twins should be continuously struggling."²⁴

The apostle Paul recognized the war within himself between the spirit and the flesh: "I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.... I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do."²⁵ Augustine unhappily gives a similar report in his Confessions: "I was bound, not with another's irons, but by my own iron will. My will the enemy held, and thence had made a chain for me, and bound me."²⁶

To note the internal conflict in man, his paradoxical state, is not to affirm in a blanket way that man is totally depraved or worthless. Blaise Pascal, who knew well that man's passion is pitted against his reason and plunges him into discord and division, still proclaimed that "the greatness of a man is so evident that it is even proved by his wretchedness. For what in animals is nature in man we call wretchedness: by which we recognize that, his nature being now unlike that of animals, he has fallen from a better nature which was once his."²⁷

Personal evil has collective as well as individual dimensions. Organized crime syndicates, militant nations, oppressive social structures, and profit-crazed multinational corporations are, in a real sense, the social extensions of personal evil. On both individual and corporate levels, one of the saddest features of human evil is its strange admixture with good or apparent good. Marriages are wrecked for lack mutual understanding, educational communities are undermined by disagreement about how to pursue common ideals, political parties are thrown into disarray by excessive ambition, and nations are ripped apart by struggles for power. There can be little doubt that the subtle human potential for evil is most horrifying. Out of the ancient past, the prophet Jeremiah issues the indictment: "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately corrupt; who can understand it?" (Jer. 17:9).

No list of evils can omit the pain which afflicts a large part of the animal world. As Alfred Lord Tennyson reminds us, nature is "red in tooth and claw." Survival of the fittest seems to be built into the mechanism of animate nature. Few animals are free from the threat of being attacked and devoured by stronger animals. And no "brute" is more insensitive and cruel than man, who overkills birds, deer, and other animals for sport, employs leghold traps which keep fur-bearing animals suffering for days, and clubs to death baby seals.

C. S. Lewis attempts to minimize the problem of animal pain by indicating that animals do not have self-aware souls which perceive the significance and continuity of their own painful states.²⁸ We can readily grant that animals are not equivalent to men in their levels of consciousness and depths of emotion. However, they obviously feel pain, endure suffering, and fear death. Therefore, the physical condition of these nonhuman creatures is a very serious matter. It is a matter which again raises the question of whether this kind of evil (e.g., the threat of being attacked by stronger animals) could have been created by, the God of the Christian faith. William Blake forms the question very forcefully in "The Tiger":

Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burned the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make Thee?

Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?²⁹

At the end of any catalogue of ills which plague the world comes death. And death is a particularly acute problem for the human species. Indeed death is the last enemy, the last evil we must face; it puts an end to our doing and undergoing further evils. Ludwig Wittgenstein observes: "Death is not an event in life: we do not live to experience death."³⁰ Death is the end of life. H. F. Lovell Cocks writes that the termination of one's own personal existence is the "great human repression, the universal 'complex.' Dying is the reality that man dare not face, and to escape which he summons all is resources."³¹

Noel Coward's comedy This Happy Breed illustrates the uneasiness and embarrassment we encounter when talking about this forbidden subject. Frank and his sister Sylvia, who is a fervent Christian Scientist neophyte, are conversing in the lounge after supper. Ethel, Frank's wife, is in the kitchen:

Frank: I do wish you wouldn't talk like that, Sylvia, it sounds so soft.

Sylvia: I don't know what you mean, I'm sure.

Frank: (firmly) Mother died, see! First of all she got flu and that turned to pneumonia and the strain of that affected her heart, which was none too strong at the best of times, and she DIED. Nothing to do with passing on at all.

Sylvia: How do you know?

Frank: I admit it's only your new way of talking, but it gets me down, see?

(Ethel comes in)

Ethel: What are you shouting about?

Not only Christian Scientists deny the fact of physical death. Our general society glosses over the ultimacy of death.

Until very recently, contemporary culture has tried to keep its children from "the facts of death" while anxiously exposing them to "the facts of life." It is almost pornographic how death has been covered over with elaborate cosmetic devices and surrounded by a wealth of extravagant detail. In The High Cost of Dying, Ruth Mulvey Harmer sarcastically describes the elaborate measures of funeral parlors:

Death and dying is gradually becoming an accepted topic for study and discussion. The increased frankness about death seems to be showing up such funeral-parlor games for what they are-frightened but shallow attempts to cover up the way we all must end.

While much newly found openness toward these topics has produced beneficial results, it has also spawned opposite methods for minimizing death. For example, Elisabeth Kubler-Ross explains and normalizes death as the next stage of human development or the "final stage of growth."³⁴ In the words of Raymond Moody, there is even proof of "life after life."³⁵ These "proofs," which are composed largely of accumulated firsthand reports by persons who were temporarily pronounced clinically dead, typically portray a kind of palatable afterlife which is entered rather automatically at death. The natural immortality of the soul is simply assumed without careful analysis and argument. Although these new developments in modern thanatology distinguish themselves from the methods of jaded funeral-parlor cosmetology, the net results are the same: death is naturalized and made more easily acceptable.

Without rehearsing here all of the defects of contemporary approaches to death,³⁶ we simply must note the contrast to the words of Jesus: "I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live" (John 11:25). Christian theology cuts sharply against the ambiguous life-after-life mentality and affirms that death is not natural. It is radically foreign to all that is within us. It is the last enemy which must be overcome. Those who have thought long and hard about the human condition and refuse to settle for the cheap and easy talk about personal survival know this already. Death, then, is another forceful evidence of the problem of evil.

¹ In addition to Aristotle's Poetics, see Henry Myers, Tragedy: A View of Life (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University, 1956), pp. 28—53.

² In addition to Moby Dick, see Myers, Tragedy, pp. 57-77, and Richard Sewall, The Vision of Tragedy (New Haven, CT: Yale University, 1959), pp.92-105.

³ H. G. Wells, A Short History of the World (Harmondsworth: Pelican, 1937), p. 289.

⁴ H. G. Wells, The Fate of Homo Sapiens (London: Secker and Warburg, 1939), p. 312.

⁵ T. S. Eliot, Murder in the Cathedral: The Complete Poems (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Co., 1952), p. 180.

⁶ Peter Berger, The Sacred Canopy (New York: Doubleday, 1967), especially chapters 1-3.

⁷ Ibid., pp.53—54.

⁸ In response, some Christians hold that believers may instead produce an argument to the effect that they do not need a theodicy. A number of approaches are possible here. For example, a believer may argue that since the problem of evil does not conclusively disprove his position, he need not answer it. Or a believer may argue that he has convincing proof of God's existence on other grounds, and hence that he knows that the problem of evil must have some answer. Presently, there do not appear to be any such arguments which can be comfortably accepted. Christian theism purports to explain relevant features of human existence, but evil does not appear to fit well into that explanation. Therefore, there is at least a prima facie case that the Christian theist must make good his claim by handling the problem of evil.

⁹ T. W. Settle, "A Prolegomenon to Intellectually Honest Theology," The Philosophical Forum 1 (1978): 136—40.

¹⁰ Thor Hall, "Theodicy as Test of the Reasonableness of Theology," Religion in Life 43 (1974): 204.

¹¹ Arthur McGill, Suffering: A Test of Theological Method (Philadelphia: Geneva, 1968), p. 24.

¹² Norman Geisler, Christian Apologetics (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1976), preface.

¹³ Alvin Plantinga, God, Freedom, and Evil (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1977), p. 30.

¹⁴ John Hick, Evil and the God of Love, rev. ed. (New York: Harper and Row, 1975), p. 12.

¹⁵ Edward Madden and Peter Hare, Evil and the Concept of God (Springfield, IL: Charles C. Thomas, 1968), p. 6.

¹⁶ Eugene Borowitz, The Mask Jews Wear (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1973), p. 99.

¹⁷ Time, 11 May 1959, p. 21.

¹⁸ Nathanael West, Miss Lonelyhearts in The Complete Works of Nathanael West (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1957), p. 43; the mistakes in this excerpt are intentional.

²¹ Robert Louis Stevenson, The Strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (London: The Folio Society, 1948), p. 124.

²² Ibid., p. 127.

²³ Ibid., p. 146.

²⁴ Ibid., pp. 124—25.

²⁵ Paul's lamentation should be read in context: Romans 7:15—20.

²⁶ Augustine, Confessions, 8. 5. 10.

²⁷ Blaise Pascal, Pensees, no. 409.

³⁰ Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, trans. D. F. Pears and B. F. McGuinness (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1971), proposition 6.4311, p. 147.

³¹ H. F Lovell Cocks, By Faith Alone (London: James Clarke, 1943), p. 55.

³² Noel Coward, This Happy Breed (New York: Doubleday, 1947), Act 3, Scene 1, p. 178.

³³ Ruth Mulvey Harmer, The High Cost of Dying (New York: Collier, 1963), p. 19.

³⁴ Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, Death: The Final Stage of Growth (Englewood cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1975).

³⁵ Raymond A. Moody, Jr., Life After Life (New York: Bantam, 1975).

³⁷ Hans Kung, On Being a Christian, trans. Edward Quinn (Garden city, NY: Doubleday, 1976), p. 432.

2

Evil and Inconsistency

A Setting for the Problem of Evil

In Fyodor Dostoevsky's Brothers Karamazov the reunion of Ivan and Alyosha Karamazov, long separated by the odysseys of their different lives, provides poignant expression of the problem before us. Ivan, a university-educated and worldly-wise man turned atheist, seeks to elicit an answer to the evils of life from Alyosha, who has become a faithful monk:

By the way, a Bulgarian I met lately in Moscow ... told me about the crimes committed by the Turks and Circassians in all parts of Bulgaria through fear of a general rising of the Slavs. They burn villages, murder, rape women and children, they nail their prisoners to the fences by the ears, leave them so till morning, and in the morning they hang them—all sorts of things you can't imagine. People talk sometimes of bestial cruelty, but that's a great injustice and insult to the beast; a beast can never be so cruel as a man, so artistically cruel. The tiger only tears an gnaws, that's all he can do.¹

Ivan reveals that he collects stories of such evils, particularly those of the suffering of innocent children. His point is that God—Alyosha's God—is supposed to be mighty and just, but that the world is full of absurdity and injustice, pain and suffering.

Ivan insists that he cannot commit his life to a system of religious beliefs which fails so utterly to make sense of life:

And even if it were promised that there will be a future harmony, divinely wrought, the cost is too dear:

I understand, of course, what an upheaval of the universe it will be, when everything in heaven and earth blends in one hymn of praise and everything that lives and has lived cries aloud: "Thou art just, 0 Lord, for thy ways are revealed." ... [But] I don't want to cry aloud then. While there is still time, I hasten to protect myself and so I renounce the higher harmony altogether.... I would rather be left with the unavenged suffering.... Besides, too high a price is asked for such harmony; it's beyond our means to pay so much to enter on it. And so I hasten to give back my entrance ticket, and if I am an honest man I am bound to give it back as soon as possible. And that I am doing. It's not God that I don't accept, Alyosha, only I most respectfully return Him the ticket.³

Alyosha is overwhelmed by Ivan's reasonings, and in desperation brings up the figure of Christ, hoping that it will satisfy Ivan. But Ivan meets his brother's attempt with a story he has prepared about Christ before the Grand Inquisitor.

In Ivan's "poem," God chooses once more to walk in human form among men:

And behold, He deigned to appear for a moment to the people, to the tortured, suffering people, sunk in iniquity, but loving Him like children. My story is laid in Spain, in Seville, in the most terrible time of the Inquisition, when fires were lighted every day to the glory of God, and

                          In the splendid auto da fe'
                          The wicked heretics were burnt.⁴

He came softly, unobserved, and yet, strange to say, everyone recognized Him.... He holds out His hands to them, blesses them, and a healing virtue comes from contact with Him, even with His garments.⁵

The crowd weeps and sings, "Hosannah!"

Following Him to the steps of the Seville cathedral, the people witness Him restore life to a dead girl, gently pronouncing once again the ancient words, "Maiden, arise." The ensuing scene is gripping:

The old cardinal, followed by a train of assistants and guards, sees everything. The cardinal's face darkens, he knits his brow, and quickly orders the guards to take the mysterious stranger. His power is so complete that the crowd bows in submission and immediately parts for the guards. The stern monk blesses the crowd in cold silence and passes on.

The prisoner is led to the shadowy, vaulted prison in the palace of the Holy Inquisition. That breathless night another inquisition takes place. The heavy iron door of the prison opens and the cardinal steps inside. The door is closed at once behind him, and he stands alone, light in hand, and gazes into the prisoner's face. At last, the cardinal speaks:

The aged cardinal continues, bemoaning the evils which are caused by man's misuse of God's gift of free will:

They will cry aloud at last that the truth is not in Thee, for they could not have been left in greater confusion and suffering than Thou hast caused, laying upon them so many cares and unanswerable problems.⁸

The prisoner remains silent. Then comes the climax of their encounter:

When the Inquisitor ceased speaking he waited some time for his Prisoner to answer him.... But [the Prisoner] suddenly approached the old man in silence and softly kissed him on his bloodless aged lips. That was all his answer.⁹

Alyosha heard Ivan's story to the end and then tried to persuade him that its pessimism and despair are practically impossible. But Ivan's replies were too penetrating. Unable to answer the thrust of Ivan's story, Alyosha stood up and kissed Ivan gently on the lips. Alyosha turned and ran back to the monastery. "It was nearly dark, and he felt almost frightened."¹⁰

The deep feeling which Alyosha must have had upon hearing Ivan's story is not to be minimized. However, Alyosha's troubled behavior may be seen as all too typical of religious reactions to the problem of evil when it is powerfully articulated in real-life situations: emotional response, rational retreat. It is quite normal for believers to be disturbed by the evils of life and to sense their tendency to discourage or destroy religious faith. Unfortunately, many of these believers cannot offer reasons why evil need not have such force. The problem of evil, then, often becomes construed as an emotional matter.

However, the issue cannot be construed as completely emotional. In this chapter, the emotional response to the problem of evil will be examined and found insufficient to meet the essence of Ivan's challenge. Then, we will press toward a way of understanding the problem of evil as a rational or theoretical difficulty. The theoretical dimension of the problem of evil will be seen to consist of two distinct versions: the logical argument and the evidential argument. Since the exact formulation one countenances influences the direction of his analysis, close attention will be given to each. The present chapter considers the logical version of the problem of evil; the next chapter focuses on the evidential version, clarifying the issue at stake in the rest of the book.

It is not difficult to find authors who believe that the intellectual questions about evil are either unimportant or irrelevant. They prefer to treat the problem of evil as purely emotional, superseding rational considerations. For example, John Bowker writes in Problems of Suffering in Religions of the World:

There is nothing theoretical or abstract about it. To talk of suffering is to talk not of an academic problem but of the sheer bloody agonies of existence, of which all men are aware and have direct experience. All religions take account of this; some, indeed, make it the basis of all they have to say. Whatever theoretical constructions may be built, the foundations are laid in the apparent realities of what it is like to be alive. Thus what a religion has to say about suffering reveals, in many ways, more than anything else, what it believes the nature and purpose of existence to be.¹¹

Max Weber places strong emphasis on the psychological need of the individual to explain suffering and evil. The need arises from the discrepancy between, on one hand, normal human interests and expectations in any society, and, on the other, what actually happens. Commenting on Weber, Talcott Parsons says that the discrepancy generates "ad hoc elements of tension" and creates "experiences which are frustrating."¹² These existential factors may, in turn, stimulate some level of rationalization in the individual. But, at base, the problem of evil is still subjective and personal.

In his classic work, The Varieties of Religious Experience, William James treats the problem and its solution in terms of "inner attitude," not "systematic philosophy." The problem of evil is assuaged, as James says, by developing the proper attitude or "healthy-mindedness":

It is true that James does not take the problem of evil lightly, and at times seems to contradict this statement. Nevertheless, his statement represents a very attractive and widespread position.

A. R. King agrees that, although a theoretical structure can be contrived for the problem of evil, the problem is essentially an experiential matter. Generalizing from the case of Job, King emphasizes the distinction between hearsay about and the experience of God. He insists that, since there may be no rational answer, the real solution to evil is found in an existential encounter with God: "A religious pragmatism and mysticism ... boldly affirms the paradox and pursues the matter in terms of practical adjustments to evil."¹⁴

Unfortunately, this kind of position is not without serious difficulties. When the problem of evil is defined as a completely emotional one, it tends to reduce to a purely psychological or practical matter. Proposed solutions, then, can aim at little more than inducing certain subjective states in oneself and others: resignation, hope, courage, or whatever. When emotional considerations take precedence over rational ones, spontaneous answers given in the face of actual evils are usually fragmentary and inapplicable, and ultimately become arbitrary and relative.

Obviously, the emotional aspects of the problem of evil cannot be ignored or ridiculed; but neither can they be treated as the primary problem. The classic and enduring problem concerns the rational acceptability of Christian belief in light of evil in the world, regardless of how different persons respond emotionally to the various evils which they encounter. Moreover, adopting a certain rational understanding of evil may well determine which attitudinal or emotional reactions are proper and helpful. It can even be argued that any given emotional response entails certain beliefs about evil. Of course, once this linkage between conceptual commitment and subjective response is recognized, the personal domain of the problem of evil can no longer be characterized as completely emotional.

That aspect of the problem of evil which involves the inward condition of the individual is best characterized as existential. But the existential dimension of the problem transcends pure emotion; it occurs as the total person seeks to relate himself to the whole realm of existence, a realm which contains the disturbing reality of evil. Since the total personal response to evil depends, in large part, upon the conceptual categories through which it is interpreted, consideration of the existential aspect must be postponed until the theoretical dimension is completely examined. In chapter 6, it will be shown that a full analysis of the evidential argument from gratuitous evil provides the proper theoretical basis for consideration of the existential sense of the problem of evil.

If the broadest division in the literature is between the existential and theoretical dimensions of the problem of evil, the next division is between the two major theoretical versions of the problem: the logical and evidential. We must now examine each one in turn, beginning with the logical problem¹⁵ (also called the deductive problem¹⁶ and the a priori problem¹⁷).

Thinkers who consider the logical problem take the issue to be whether basic Christian claims are inconsistent. Historically, the discussion of this problem is constituted by atheistic attempts to prove that certain propositions of Christian theism are inconsistent and theistic attempts to show why they are not. J. L. Mackie, for example, sums up the atheistic challenge: "Here it can be shown, not that religious beliefs lack rational support, but that they are positively irrational, that several parts of the essential theological doctrine are inconsistent with one another."¹⁸ We must begin by examining the general notion of logical inconsistency.¹⁹ Technically speaking, two propositions are inconsistent when it is impossible for both of them to be true at the same time. This impossibility results when one proposition entails the denial of the other proposition. So, anyone who affirms both such propositions cannot be holding a position which is completely true. It is important to note that the issue of consistency is independent of the issue of truth or verification. Knowing the actual truth or falsity of the propositions in question is not required in order to ascertain whether they are logically consistent.

As a first example, take the person who accepts an explicit contradiction. Say the person believes both the proposition that

and the proposition that

(The logical symbol ~ means the negation of a proposition.) Now what we have here is an instance of a person's adhering to a straightforward contradiction: (a) and (~a). Presumably, few people commit such flagrant errors in thinking.

However, some inconsistencies are not so obvious and thus more readily find acceptance. In these more difficult instances, the charge of inconsistency can still be made to stick if a line of reasoning can be produced whereby the implicit inconsistency in some set of beliefs is made explicit.

As a second example, take the following set of beliefs in which there is a hidden inconsistency:

(b) All men are mortal;

(c) Socrates is a Greek;

(d) Socrates is a man;

(e) No Greeks are mortal.

(a) Socrates is mortal.

But from (c) and (e) he can deduce

(~a) Socrates is not mortal.

So, the critic can show that one who accepts the set (b)-(e) is committed to both (a) and (~a), and thereby unwittingly embraces a logical contradiction. At least one of the propositions in the set (b)-(e) must then be rejected to escape the problem.

Admittedly, this example of an implicit contradiction is a simplified one; seldom do such easy cases occur in ordinary life. In real life, the matter is usually much more complex. Sometimes the propositions which form a contradiction in an opponent's position are not stated. So, the critic is faced with the double task of first producing all of the relevant unstated propositions and then drawing out the contradiction from the fully stated position.

An example which exhibits this procedure can be obtained by modifying the previous one. Suppose that a person believes propositions (b), (c), and (e). Then, for a critic to deduce a contradiction he would have to specify additional propositions which the person in question also believes or could be made to admit. The critic might take it that this person believes proposition (d) or that he really should be committed to (d) on some grounds or other. When it is shown that the person is or ought to be committed to (d) as well as to the original set (b), (c), and (e), the contradiction is forthcoming once again.

Now we can begin to investigate the atheistic challenge that evil can be used to establish that Christian theism is a system of inconsistent beliefs. Essentially, the challenge of the logical version of the problem of evil is that there is at least one contradiction derivable from theistic propositions about God and evil. The atheist must then prove this accusation. But the proof of inconsistency is not as easily accomplished as in the first example, for serious theists are not in the habit of holding patent contradictions. Neither does it appear that the atheist's task is going to be as easy as in the second example in which an implicit contradiction is derived from a stated set of propositions, since theists do not explicitly adhere to all of the propositions needed to deduce a contradiction. So, at best, the atheist must supplement the basic propositions of theism with additional propositions to which the theist is presumably committed and then try to deduce the fatal contradiction. But this task is much more difficult than it appears in our simplified third example.

The whole issue over logical inconsistency rests on subtle and debatable interpretations of various Christian beliefs about the character of God, the meaning of evil, the nature of moral obligation, and a number of other matters. This complicates the issue beyond any neat and easy logical maneuver. Yet there are a number of atheists who are convinced that subterranean logical difficulties do exist for Christian theism, and who labor vigorously to excavate them. Likewise, there are a number of theists who take the matter of logical consistency seriously and work diligently to defend against these atheistic attacks.

The atheist's basic task is to demonstrate how the essential claims of Christian theism, including claims about evil, are actually inconsistent. According to Alvin Plantinga, the atheist cannot be successful unless he identifies a set of propositions which both entails a contradiction and is such that each proposition in the set is either necessarily true, essential to theism, or a consequence of such propositions.²⁰ There is no logical problem if the Christian theist is not committed to each proposition in the set or if the set does not really entail a contradiction.

Atheistic philosophers have not differed significantly over the set of Christian claims which contains the rumored contradiction. Several propositions about God are frequently cited:

(2) God is omnipotent;

(3) God is omniscient;

(4) God is wholly good.

(G) An omnipotent, omniscient, wholly good God exists.

Any question about (G) is equivalent, then, to a question about one or more of the propositions which are condensed into it. The following analysis will focus on the issue between atheists who advance the charge of inconsistency and those theists who refuse to give up (G) or any of its constituent propositions (l)-(4) to escape the charge. Such defenders qualify as true theists, whereas those who relinquish or modify (G) are actually quasi theists.²¹

The logical version of the problem of evil is not completely formed until another proposition, one about evil, is introduced. It is this additional proposition which is allegedly inconsistent with (G). In the scholarship, three different propositions about evil have been proposed, each one determining a different formulation of the logical problem. Depending on how the atheist understands theism, he may formulate an argument to the effect that (G) is inconsistent with any one of the three following propositions about evil:

(E₂) Large amounts, extreme kinds, and perplexing distributions of evil exist;

(E₃) Gratuitous or pointless evil exists.

Figure1 is a classificatory chart representing the different logical arguments based on these propositions. All of these arguments from evil are the same in that their structure is purely deductive and their strategy is to derive a contradiction from key theistic claims.

Atheistic critics of Christian theism have typically

thought that formulation I is the most significant of the three approaches and the most likely to defeat theism. Hence, formulation I will be taken as the prime representative of the logical arguments from evil and treated in detail. Most of the analysis of formulation I applies mutatis mutandis to formulations II and III.

Statements of the classic logical problem designated by formulation I are not hard to find in the vast literature on God and evil. Two centuries ago, David Hume (after Epicurus) posed the problem in stark clarity:

More recently, H. J. McCloskey stated the enigma:

The problem of evil is a very simple one to state. There is evil in the world; yet the world is said to be the creation of a good and omnipotent God. How is this possible? Surely a good omnipotent God would have made a world free of evil of any kind.²³

Perhaps J. L. Mackie's rendition of the logical dilemma of the theist is clearest:

In its simplest form the problem is this: God is omnipotent; God is wholly good; and yet evil exists. There seems to be some contradiction between these three propositions, so that if any two of them were true the third would be false. But at the same time all three are essential parts of most theological positions; the theologian, it seems, at once must adhere and cannot consistently adhere to all three.²⁴

Statements of the logical problem could be continued indefinitely, but their point would still be the same.

The point of all such arguments is that the theist believes in the existence and perfection of God, and the atheist understands this belief to imply that there is no evil in the world. Yet the theist also believes that there is indeed evil in the world. Hence it seems to the atheistic critic that the theist's position is in serious internal difficulty. Casting the difficulty in terms of the precise propositions involved, we have the following logical situation. The theist is officially committed to:

and

(E₁) Evil exists.

However, it appears to the atheistic critic that proposition (G) entails:

(~E₁) Evil does not exist.

Now if (G) does entail (~E₁), then the theist is implicitly committed to (~E₁) as well. But this means that he is inconsistent because both (E₁) and (~E₁) figure into his theological position. To vindicate himself rationally, the theist must clarify and reconcile the propositions which supposedly generate the dread contradiction.

Propositions (G) and (E₁) are reasonably easy to reconcile as they stand, since (G) does not straightforwardly imply (~E₁). Hence, those who engage the logical version of the problem of evil quickly proceed to a different level of debate. It is commonly agreed that the alleged contradiction does not appear immediately on the face of (G) and (E₁). If the contradiction is there, it is implicit and must be made explicit by conjoining certain additional propositions to (G) and (E₁). And, to play fairly, the atheist must use propositions which the theistic position includes or propositions which are necessarily true for any position. The following are representative of the additional propositions often cited by the atheist:

(2') God can perform any logically possible action, including the elimination of evil;

(4') God always seeks to promote good and eliminate evil;

(5') Evil is not logically necessary.

Now, from (G) and (1')-(5') it follows that 

(~E₁) Evil does not exist,

The reasoning behind this indictment is not hard to grasp. Christian theists say that God exists and has a definite character. It is natural to presume that God's character can be used as a basis for explaining (and perhaps predicting) His actions. Regarding the problem of evil, the divine attributes cited in (l)-(4) seem to have specifiable meanings which are delineated in the additional propositions (1')-(4'): if God is omnipotent, then He has the power to eliminate all evil, and so forth. According to the atheist, the conclusion of this type of reasoning seems to be that evil does not exist. However, evil does exist and its existence is recognized by the theist. Further, there is no logical necessity that evil exist, as indicated by (5'). The classic problem is thus forged out of what it seems that God would do about evil in the world.

Atheistic attacks which follow this general line of reasoning are plentiful. For example, J. L. Mackie sets forth propositions very much like (2') and (4') in order to expose the hidden inconsistency within Christian theism.²⁵  Another example is Richard LaCroix, who insists that many more statements are needed to convict theism of inconsistency, including statements to the effect that God Himself is the greatest possible good and that He created freely.²⁶

It must be remembered that it is characteristic of the logical version of the problem of evil to generate or at tempt to generate an inconsistency from essential elements of theism. Otherwise it would not be possible to accuse the theist of inconsistency. The challenger might indeed find a set of propositions which involve a logical contradiction, but doing so is irrelevant unless they are central to theism. As we have seen, if the atheist cannot extract a contradiction from standard and familiar theistic propositions, he must use auxiliary propositions to which the theist must somehow be committed. This is precisely. the point on which the atheistic attempts founder. Atheistic opponents have typically used one or more additional propositions which are not accepted by Christian theists.

To recognize that the logical version of the problem relies on dubious assumptions is to focus on the exact point at which Christian thinkers must begin their rebuttal: they must show that one or more of the additional propositions are questionable and need not be accepted by the Christian theist. In effect, this is what orthodox theists have done throughout the history of theodicy. Augustine and Gottfried Leibniz argue that any additional proposition like (5') is false because any created finite world necessarily involves some evil.²⁷ According to them, if evil is logically necessary, God cannot remove it and thus is not culpable. C. S. Lewis and M. B. Ahern maintain that propositions such as (4') do not hold because perfect goodness might have sufficient reasons for allowing some evil.²⁸ As Lewis puts it, God's goodness and love are much more "stern and splendid" than what (4') entails. Spanning the centuries from Augustine to Plantinga, the classic and most popular rationale for God's permission of evil is man's free will.²⁹ The theory is that God gave man free will and with it the possibility of both good and evil. Hence, God cannot eliminate evil without somehow curtailing or eliminating human freedom.

The vigorous theistic resistance to one or more of .the propositions in the set (1')-(5') shows that the atheistic challenger is trying to palm off certain highly debatable propositions as integral to Christian theism. The atheistic case, of course, is that the theistic position is inconsistent, and thus that the theist is irrational. To make the charge stick, the atheist incorporates into the argument propositions which are not necessary to Christian theism. This amounts to nothing more than foisting on the theist propositions which he allegedly should believe and then handily exposing the contradiction in those beliefs. Instead the atheist should attempt to understand precisely what the theist really believes about God and evil. Otherwise the atheistic challenger may be forever doomed to repeat either of two fallacies when trying to deduce a contradiction within Christian theism: either begging the question by selecting propositions to which the theist is not committed, or lifting out of context propositions to which the theist is committed, but imputing new and convenient meanings to them.³⁰ Both of these fallacies occur frequently in the literature on God and evil.

The preceding analysis shows that (G) and (E₁) are entirely consistent. Inconsistency seems to occur only when illicit assumptions are made about the meanings of (G) and (E₁). When the atheistic challenger makes such assumptions, he claims that it is impossible for both (G) and (E₁) to be true; that is, he claims that they are inconsistent. To defend the consistency of these propositions, the theist simply needs to show that it is possible for them both to be true. However, the theistic defender does not have to show that (G) and (E₁) are true or even probably true. What the theist must do is to show why repeated atheistic attempts to demonstrate inconsistency fail and why God could have some legitimate purposes for evil. This same strategy applies to the rebuttal of all of the different formulations of the logical argument from evil.

Actually, there is not just one formulation of the logical version of the problem of evil, but a cluster of different formulations. The force of these formulations in general should not be underestimated. It is somewhat curious, then, that the specific formulation (formulation I) discussed above receives so much attention. Formulation I purports to show that the theist's belief in the sheer existence of evil (i.e., just any evil at all) is somehow logically problematic within the context of his other theistic commitments. But in some ways this approach seems to be the weakest formulation of the logical argument from evil. The argument would be convenient for the atheist if it did hold, but it is probably the easiest for the theist to rebut.

Perhaps this is why some authors have examined other formulations of the logical argument which are based on other theistic beliefs about evil. As depicted in Figure 1, there are two alternative formulations of the logical argument which might promise a more successful attack on Christian theism than the first one. Formulation II expresses the accusation that (G) is inconsistent with:

Formulation III expresses the charge that (G) is inconsistent with:

(E₃) Gratuitous or pointless evil exists.

Although neither of these two formulations of the logical argument appears as often as the first, there are instances of them in the scholarly literature. To complete our discussion of the logical version of the problem of evil, these other formulations must be briefly analyzed.

Alvin Plantinga is aware that the atheistic challenger might offer an argument like formulation II:

The essential challenge here is that proposition (G) is logically incompatible with proposition (E₂). The atheist is deducing two propositions from theistic commitments: one stating that there are amounts, kinds, and distributions of evil which God would not allow, and one indicating that those amounts, kinds, and distributions do exist. This would reveal a contradiction.

But atheists have not been successful in their attempt to show that theists hold beliefs which either state or imply both that God limits the evil in the world and that those amounts, kinds, and distributions of evil He will allow have been exceeded. The proper theistic response seems to be to refuse to fix a limit on what evils God might allow. The theist can argue that it is entirely possible that God could countenance very extreme evils for a number of different reasons; for example, to preserve free will or to allow the regular operation of nature.

Another rendition of the problem of logical inconsistency corresponds to formulation III on the chart. Terence Penelhum argues that "it is logically inconsistent for a theist to admit the existence of a pointless evil."³² In the terminology of formulation III, the theist is guilty of a logical contradiction if he believes that both (G) and (E₃) are true. The atheistic strategy required here is now quite familiar. It must be proved that the theist is unwittingly committed to the belief that God would not allow gratuitous evil and to the belief that gratuitous evil exists. The assumption of the atheist here is that theism recognizes the existence of even very severe evils as long as they have some point or meaning.

Certain stock theistic responses will also suffice to refute formulation III. The theist can take a traditional approach and argue that he is not really committed to (E₃). He can argue that there must be good explanations for all evils, no matter how severe, and hence that they cannot be meaningless. He might even venture some explanation, or range of explanations, designed to cover particularly troublesome evils.

Or, if the theist does accept (E₃), he can seek to point out that the additional assumptions which the atheist employs to derive the contradiction are not essential to theism and thus are unacceptable. The theist would argue that the logic of (G) leaves open the possibility that God might allow gratuitous evil. At first glance, this line of thinking may seem odd or perhaps unorthodox. However, a case can be made to show that it is entirely consistent with— indeed, is implied by—one valid interpretation of Christian theism.

Whether theism can involve a belief in the possibility of gratuitous evil is a question crucial to analysis of the third formulation of the logical problem and to an important corresponding formulation of the evidential problem. In fact, the controversy over gratuitous evil becomes intense in connection with the evidential problem.

¹ Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov, trans. Constance Garnett (New York: Norton, 1976), p.219. This encounter of Ivan and Alyosha constitutes one of the high points of world literature and deserves careful reading (Book Five, "Pro and contra," chapters 3-5).

² Ibid., p.224.

³ Ibid., pp.225-26.

⁴. Ibid., p.229.

⁵. Ibid.

⁶. Ibid., p.230.

⁷. Ibid., p.231.

⁸. Ibid., pp.235-36; also read 236-4l.

⁹. Ibid., p.243.

¹⁰. Ibid., p.245.

¹¹. John Bowker, Problems of Suffering in Religions of the World (New York: Cambridge University, 1970), p.2.

¹². Talcott Parsons, Introduction to Max Weber, The Sociology of Religion, trans. Ephraim Fischoff (Boston: Beacon Press, 1963), p. xlvii.

¹³. William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience (New York: Macmillan, 1961), p. 86.

^14. Albion Roy King, The Problem of Evil: Christian Concepts and the Book of Job (New York: Ronald Press, 1952),  p.213.

^15. This term is also used by William Rowe, Philosophy of Religion: An Introduction (Belmont, CA: Dickenson, 1978), pp. 80-86.

^16. See Michael L. Peterson, "Christian Theism and the Problem of Evil," Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 21(1978): 35-46.

^17. See Alvin Plantinga, God and Other Minds: A Study of the Rational Justification of Belief in God (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University, 1967), p. 128.

^18. J. L. Mackie, "Evil and Omnipotence," Mind 64 (1955): 200.

^19. For a more elaborate discussion of logical inconsistency, see Peter T. Manicas and Arthur N. Kruger, Logic: The Essentials (New York: McGraw Hill, 1976), pp. 96-97, 106-08.

^20. Plantinga, God and Other Minds, p. 117.

^21. This terminology is borrowed from Edward Madden and Peter Hare, Evil and the Concept of God (Springfield, IL: Charles C. Thomas, 1968).

^22. David Hume, Dialogues concerning Natural Religion, ed. Henry D. Aiken (New York: Hafner, 1948), p. 66.

^23. H. J. McCloskey, "The Problem of Evil," Journal of Bible and Religion 30 (1962): 187.

^24. Mackie, "Evil," p.200.

^25. Ibid., p.201.

^26. Richard R. Lacroix, "Unjustified Evil and God's Choice," Sophia 13 (1974): 20—28.

^27. Augustine's mature views on this may be found in The City of God; Leibniz's position is contained in his Theodicy.

^28. C. S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain (New York: Macmillan, 1962), pp. 47—54; M. B. Ahern, The Problem of Evil (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1971), p.2.

^29. Augustine, The City of God; Alvin Plantinga, God, Freedom, and Evil (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1977).

^30. These syndromic errors are exposed in Michael L. Peterson, "Christian Theism and the Problem of Evil"; idem, "Evil and Inconsistency," Sophia 18(1979): 20-27, which is a reply to LaCroix's version of the logical argument.

^31. Plantinga, God, Freedom, and Evil, p. 55.

^32. Terence Penelhum, "Divine Goodness and the Problem of Evil," Religious Studies 2 (1966), reprinted in Readings in the Philosophy of Religion: An Analytic Approach, ed. Baruch Brody (Englewood cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1974), p. 226.

3

Evil as Evidence Against Theism

Almost automatically, the terms evidence and probability conjure up a picture of the methods of science. However, the problem of evil is not a scientific matter, but a philosophical and theological one. Therefore, the present use of terms such as "evidence," "probability," and the like is not exclusively scientific or mathematical; it is the same use these terms are given in rational discussion generally. Such terms occur in legal and moral reasoning,⁵ and in philosophical dialectic.⁶ Nor is there any oddity in employing them in the rational appraisal of religion.

While the evidential assessment of theological claims is not to be equated with the evidential assessment of scientific claims, it does bear certain analogies to the inductive treatment of hypotheses in science. Just as a general physical theory offers an explanation of certain manifest and pervasive features of the natural world, a theological framework provides an explanation of important types of events and experiences in the moral and spiritual realms. When an explanatory scheme appears to make good sense of the relevant facts, it is confirmed to that extent; when a conceptual scheme seems to fail to make sense of the pertinent facts, it is disconfirmed proportionately. The facts in question, then, serve as evidence for or against the theoretical understanding which is offered. Now there is no easy way to calculate the extent to which a given theoretical framework is made rationally acceptable or unacceptable by the available evidence, and this is no less true in theology than in science. Yet we still ascribe to theological claims some sense of probability or likelihood and seem to get along fairly well doing so. This indicates that there is a qualitative or rational measure of probability which is distinct from purely quantitative ones.

In view of the similarity between the evidential argument from evil and familiar modes of scientific reasoning, the following section employs the latter to elucidate the former. Relatively simplified models of confirmation and disconfirmation in science will be used to shed light on the strategy of the increasingly important evidential version of the problem of evil. Care must be taken not to claim too much for this method of comparison, for there are some dissimilarities which can be adduced. Nevertheless, the scientific process of confirmation or disconfirmation is rooted in basic rational procedures and thus bears significant resemblance to reasoning in other areas of intellectual concern, including theology and religion.

Obviously, one must be clear on the structure of the evidential argument from evil before one can effectively respond to it. However, this argument is not the only consideration in the overall evaluation of Christian theism. There are historical and existential arguments as well, many of which actually support theism. Thus, the complete rational appraisal of theism quickly becomes involved with a number of matters in addition to the problem of evil. The conscientious reader must sort through this complex of issues in order to reach some final judgment. Even if one thinks that one has sufficient grounds for Christian commitment, one must still be open to reviewing all of the issues in order to gain better self understanding and greater sensitivity to why others do not share that commitment. Likewise, if one does not adhere to Christian theism, then he must make sure that he is aware of as many of the relevant issues as possible and has not focused on one isolated reason for his rejection of it. In this manner, all parties interested in the evaluation of theism can keep the question in proper perspective.

Interestingly, various thinkers who are equally cognizant of the theistic issues may weight them in different ways and, consequently, arrive at divergent conclusions. Exploring the causes of these differences can yield fascinating results bearing on epistemology and the theory of rationality. Without estimating here the exact weight which the problem of evil carries, one point is quite clear: for many, this problem is extremely important, and, for some, it is decisive. The remainder of this book, therefore, is devoted to formulating a response to the very formidable evidential version of the problem of evil, a response which, all things considered, may help tip the scales in favor of Christian theism.

The type of reasoning involved in the evidential argument from evil is, broadly speaking, inductive. There are, of course, several approaches associated with induction, but the one operative in this argument is typically called inductive disconfirmation.⁷ This is a strategy for showing that a given claim is falsified or made unacceptable by relevant factual statements. A similar approach is used to confirm hypotheses. After surveying both kinds of reasoning as they occur in science, we can further clarify the structure of the present theological issue over evil.

To begin, a few conventions and symbols must be adopted for the sake of precision and economy. For general purposes, a hypothesis shall be designated by the symbol (H) and its factual test by (T); an assumption shall be denoted by (A). When citing a specific hypothesis, factual test, or assumption, we will use the same symbols, but in the lower case (h, t, a).

Consider first an example of confirmatory reasoning from the history of science. The hypothesis that

(h) The earth is spherical

(t) The decks of receding ships always disappear from sight before their mastheads.

On the surface, the connection between (h) and (t) is very slim. What makes (t) confer such probability on (h) anyway? Modern philosophers of science indicate that any evidential test (T) must be connected or made relevant to a given hypothesis (H) by some additional assumptions (A). These assumptions may be derived from already confirmed and accepted hypotheses or may simply be granted for purposes of the investigation at hand. The key point is that they are already thought to be true, and hence their truth is not directly at stake. The function of these auxiliary assumptions is to make explicit just why a given (T) can be a test of a given (H). In terms of the present example, at least one additional assumption is needed:

(a) Light travels in straight lines.

Some logicians have tried to develop techniques for assigning precise numerical probability values to scientific propositions which are evaluated in this way.⁸ However, these attempts have been successful only in limited kinds of cases. There is even more reason to believe that numerical probability values are inappropriate in philosophical theology.⁹ Therefore, the rational or common-sense measures of probability (e.g., high, low, balanced, etc.) will be used in connection with the evidential argument from evil.

Because of its nondemonstrative or nondeductive character, inductive or evidential reasoning is probabilistic in the pertinent sense. There are three major factors which make the inductive evaluation of hypotheses probabilistic. Understanding these factors will, in turn, help us analyze the argument from evil which evaluates theism in somewhat analogous fashion.

The first factor involved in the probabilistic status of inductive thinking is its a posteriori character. Inductive reasoning depends upon at least one factual claim which must be verified through experience or observation. But experience or observation is always fallible and often incomplete. Hence, one could be mistaken about the occurrence of the relevant test results or might not be able to accumulate all of the evidence.

A second factor in the nondemonstrative or probabilistic nature of induction is the pattern of reasoning itself, which does not produce a conclusion with absolute certainty. In the case of confirmation (i.e., when the expected result occurs), induction involves what is called the deductive fallacy of affirming the consequent. Symbolically the general confirmation process (e.g., as used in the preceding spherical-earth vignette) looks like this:

1. If (H) is true, then, assuming (A) is true, (T) will be true.

2. (T) appears to be true.                                                  

3. Therefore, (H) is probably true.

While the truth of (T) confirms to some extent the truth of (H), it does not prove (H) deductively. (T) fails to prove (H) with complete certainty because (T) might be implied and explained by some hypothesis other than (H). In this case, (T) could be true while (H) is false.

Neither is absolute proof produced in the case of disconfirmation (i.e., when the expected result does not occur). The procedure of disconfirmation can likewise be represented symbolically:

1. If (H) is true, then, assuming (A) is true, (T) will be true.

2. (T) appears to be false.                                                

3. Therefore, (H) is probably false.

The third factor which makes induction probabilistic is that the additional assumptions may themselves be in error. Hence, the results of an empirical test—whether positive or negative—also reflect on the additional assumptions which were taken as true in order to check the given hypothesis. There is a variety of circumstances under which these assumptions could come up for question and test. So, again, the evidential appraisal of any hypothesis is at best probable.

Obviously, the final assessment of a hypothesis is a complicated task. There is no pat formula for just "reading off" the probability or acceptability of a hypothesis from the evidence. There are too many subtleties, such as additional assumptions and alternative ways of viewing the evidence, which take the whole process beyond any simple decision. Although the processes of confirmation and disconfirmation in science have received sustained attention by logicians, these same basic processes occur in many areas of intellectual endeavor. For present purposes, it is the pattern of disconfirmation which shapes the evidential argument from evil. Christian theism is treated as an explanatory scheme which purports to explain important facts of the human condition. When certain facts do not seem to be encompassed or implied by this theistic scheme, they function as a kind of negative evidence against it. Evil is perhaps the most impressive piece of negative evidence which can be used to argue that theism is improbable or implausible.

There are three identifiable versions of the evidential argument from evil, each of which employs the strategy of disconfirmation. Interestingly, these three renditions of the evidential argument correspond exactly to the three renditions of the logical argument. The evidential arguments involve the same propositions as did the logical arguments:

(G) An omnipotent, omniscient, wholly good God exists;

          (E₁) Evil exists;

(E₂) Large amounts, extreme kinds, and perplexing distributions of evil exist;

          (E₃) Gratuitous or pointless evil exists.

Instead of analyzing the consistency of (G) and some (E)-like proposition, as do the logical arguments, the evidential arguments take the various (E)-like propositions to constitute evidence against (G), or to provide rational grounds for rejecting (G).

The distinct structure of the three evidential arguments from evil is readily seen in Figure 2. Each of these arguments finds representation in the scholarly literature. However, their significance and popularity seem almost to be the reverse of their logical counterparts. Whereas formulation I is the classic logical problem, formulation VI is the most interesting and important evidential problem.

Contrary to what discussions of the logical problem suggest, many traditional theodicists can be interpreted as being concerned primarily with the evidential problem. The arguments of, say, Augustine or Leibniz apply to the evidential argument from evil. Nevertheless, the logical and evidential problems are not as clearly distinguished

in traditional writings as they are in contemporary studies. As the two types of argument began to be differentiated in the recent past, the logical problem seemed to preoccupy the minds of both critics and defenders of theism. Now, interest in the evidential problem is ostensibly rising, but there is no systematic response to it from the perspective of orthodox theism.

In the remainder of this section, brief attention will be given to formulations IV and V of the evidential argument; formulation VI will occupy us throughout the rest of the book.

Formulation IV of the evidential problem charges that the fact that

counts against the claim that

       (G) An omnipotent, omniscient, wholly good God exists.

One advocate of this approach is George Schlesinger, who treats theism as a kind of hypothesis amenable to evidential test and recognizes that evil in the world tends to disconfirm it: "It is not merely that the theistic hypothesis seems to lack positive support which would lead merely to agnosticism: there appears to be strong prima facie evidence that it is false and thus atheism seems supported."¹⁰ Schlesinger thinks that questions about the kinds and multiplicity of actual evil are beside the point. The sheer existence of evil in the world is prima facie negative evidence. He explains: "In an attempt to shed more light on our topic let me stress that while the question of the amount of evil the world contains most vitally affects our lives, in the context of our problem this is an entirely irrelevant question."¹¹ In terms of our notation, Schlesinger's point is that (E₁) constitutes evidence against the truth or acceptability of (G).

As might be expected, the proper reply to this evidential problem is parallel to that for the corresponding logical problem. Once it is recognized that the atheist must include some auxiliary assumptions in order to make theistic claims capable of empirical evaluation, it is relatively easy to locate the source of trouble. The atheist fallaciously uses additional propositions which the theist either does not or need not accept. In the present instance, the atheistic critic employs the dubious assumption that God would not allow the existence of any evil whatsoever. Although some critics of theism adopt this assumption, orthodox theists have never officially held such a belief. Neither is it a universal and necessary truth such that anyone who considers it must accept it. Thus, it is difficult to see how such an assumption can create a problem for theism proper.

A full theistic reply to formulation IV of the evidential problem vis-a'-vis the God-allows-no-evil presumption could include proposals of morally sufficient reasons why God might allow at least some evil to exist (e.g., as a potential result of free will or the continual operation of nature), or could merely express the confidence that God must have some morally sufficient reason for allowing evil (since we already have some independent grounds for believing in His existence and goodness), though we may not know what this reason is. Without assessing the merit of these answers here, mentioning them still suffices to show that the bare fact of evil does not count heavily against Christian theism.

Of course, another possible reply is simply to deny that evil exists, that is, to refuse to grant the evidential premise (E₁). While this option is attractive to some groups (e.g., Christian Science), it is hardly open to the orthodox Christian theist whose explicit position involves belief in the existence of evil. Moreover, such denials of evil stretch our ordinary moral judgments to the breaking point, and promise relief from the problem of evil at the high price of ethical agnosticism. Ultimately, denials of evil simply evade the problem rather than face it.

Although formulation IV is a legitimate evidential argument, its reliance upon the sheer existence of evil provides very weak evidence against theism. Perhaps it is not the fact of evil itself, but the great degree and profusion of evil, which creates a formidable problem for theistic commitment. In other words, it is (E₂) and not (E₁) which supplies the weightier negative evidence. Thus we are brought to a consideration of formulation V of the evidential problem.

Harvard theologian Gordon Kaufman discusses the force of this formulation of the problem of evil. In God: The Problem, Kaufman struggles to make the concept of God intelligible to contemporary man, but realizes that the concept seems falsified by the terrible facts of evil:

Kaufman is one of many authors who recognize that the fact that

(E₂) Large amounts, extreme kinds, and perplexing distributions of evil exist

generates a serious problem for Christian theism. This fact casts grave doubt on the central theistic belief that

(G) An omnipotent, omniscient, wholly good God exists.

In The Faith of a Heretic Walter Kaufmann is troubled by this same kind of problem:

Again, the point is that the evils we witness are so severe and widespread that the existence of God seems highly improbable.

Formulating a reply to the problem of the low probability of (G) given (E₂) is a difficult matter. However, adequate reply is not impossible and can proceed in somewhat the same manner as our response to formulation IV. Essentially, the troublesome assumption in the atheistic attack now is that a loving and just God would allow only a certain amount of evil and no more. But this is hard to justify. In principle, how much evil is too much for God to allow? Furthermore, how could we ever ascertain that the present amount of evil in the world far exceeds the divinely set limit? These and other perplexing questions make it difficult to imagine how the atheist could ever establish such claims. There does not seem to be any clear limit placed upon evil by Christian theology. Neither is there any accepted method by which one could ascertain whether such a limit has been surpassed.

Perhaps there is a sense, however, in which this formulation of the evidential argument has a point. At least this evidential argument forcefully discounts any claim for a deity who places a felicitous limitation on the evils which human beings can experience. Thus, the god of popular, easy theism really is dead. The burden then falls upon the shoulders of thinking Christian theists to articulate a concept of God which is more sophisticated and profound than popular theism envisions.

This route of rebuttal seems much more promising than the route of denying that there really is as much evil, or that multitudes of people are really as unhappy, as is initially supposed. It is better simply to admit that there is a great deal of evil and suffering in the world, and then to argue that the existence of God is neither precluded nor made unlikely thereby. Although such a rebuttal must be fleshed out in more detail, that need not be done here. The next rendition of the evidential problem, formulation VI, rests upon an even stronger factual claim: that many evils in the world are not only severe and unbearable but are utterly gratuitous. The theistic reply to formulation VI applies, with appropriate adaptation, to formulation V as well.

The argument from gratuitous evil presents the most serious formulation of the evidential problem of evil. In fact, it may well be the most formidable of all statements of the problem of evil. Of course, no evidential argument from evil can be called "strong" in the sense that its inherent structure is logically tighter than that of the logical arguments from evil. In this sense, the various logical arguments are obviously stronger. However, in the sense that the evidential problems pose challenges which are more difficult for the theist to rebut, they are more serious or more formidable than their logical counterparts. It is in this sense that the evidential arguments are stronger, and the argument from gratuitous evil is the most forceful of these.

Formulation VI represents the problem of whether the fact, or at least the alleged fact, that

constitutes significant evidence against the belief that

 (G) An omnipotent, omniscient, wholly good God exists.

If you were all-good, all-knowing, and all-powerful and you were going to create a universe in which there were sentient beings—beings that are happy and sad; enjoy pleasure, feel pain; express love, anger, pity, hatred—what kind of world would you create? ... Try to imagine what such a world would be like. Would it be like the one which actually does exist, this world we live in? Would you create a world such as this one if you had the power and know-how to create any logically possible world? If your answer is "no," as it seems to be, then you should begin to understand why the evil of suffering and pain in this world is such a problem for anyone who thinks God created this world. ... Given this world, then, it seems, we should conclude that it is improbable that it was created or sustained by anything we would call God. Thus, given this particular world, it seems that we should conclude that it is improbable that God—who, if he exists, created the world—exists. Consequently, the belief that God does not exist, rather than the belief that he exists, would seem to be justified by the evidence we find in this world.¹⁴

After making clear that their inductive case is based on the sheer evidence of evil, which in and of itself reduces the probability of theism, Cornman and Lehrer emphasize that the most devastating evidence is constituted by gratuitous or unnecessary evil:

At this stage of the discussion we seem warranted in concluding that the existence of what surely seems to be unnecessary evil in this world provides inductive grounds for the belief that God does not exist, because it is probable that if he once existed he would have created a different world and that if he now exists he would control the course of nature so as to avoid many pernicious events that occur.¹⁵

An increasing number of powerful expressions of the problem of gratuitous evil can be found in the scholarly literature. William Rowe also provides a very clear statement of the argument:

We must then ask whether it is reasonable to believe that all the instances of profound, seemingly pointless human and animal suffering lead to greater goods. And, if they should somehow all lead to greater goods, is it reasonable to believe that an omnipotent, omniscient being could not have brought about any of those goods without permitting the instances of suffering which supposedly lead to them? When we consider these more general questions in the light of our experience and knowledge of the variety and profusion of human and animal suffering occurring daily in our world, it seems that the answer must be no. It seems quite unlikely that all the instances of intense human and animal suffering occurring daily in our world lead to greater goods, and even more unlikely that if they all do, an omnipotent, omniscient being could not have achieved at least some of those goods without permitting the instances of suffering that lead to them. In the light of our experience and knowledge of the variety and scale of human and animal suffering in our world, the idea that none of these instances of suffering could have been prevented by an omnipotent being without the loss of a greater good seems an extraordinary, absurd idea, quite beyond our belief.¹⁶

Similar statements of the problem of gratuitous evil could be multiplied indefinitely, but the preceding ones sufficiently express the issue.

These relatively technical statements of the problem of gratuitous evil display a refined manner of expressing a very common and widespread hesitation about Christian belief. Although ordinary persons cannot always articulate precisely why apparently meaningless evils tend to destroy their belief in God, their thoughts can often be arranged into the theoretical structure of the evidential argument from gratuitous evil. For the layman as well as the scholar, then, a persistent and pressing question is whether pointless evils render Christianity unbelievable or improbable.

Since the essential argument from gratuitous evil is often embedded within complex and lengthy philosophical discourse, it is helpful to present a simplified model of it. The model conforms to the general pattern of evidential reasoning already discussed. The position in question is, of course, the theistic claim that

(G) An omnipotent, omniscient, wholly good God exists.

(MP) An omnipotent, omniscient, wholly good God would prevent or eliminate the existence of really gratuitous or pointless evils.

           (E₃) Gratuitous or pointless evil exists

The evidential argument from gratuitous evil can be condensed into the following model:

1. If (G) is true, then, assuming that (MP) is true, (~E₃) should be true. (theological premise)

2. It is probable that (E₃) is true. (factual premise)

3. Therefore, it is probable that (G) is false. (logical conclusion)

No easy answers to this atheistic argument are readily available. The way in which the argument is constructed shows that the existence of what surely seems to be gratuitous evil counts against the existence of God. Each possible route of rebuttal involves complicated theoretical maneuvers by the theist.

¹This term is also used by William Rowe, Philosophy of Religion: An Introduction (Belmont, CA: Dickenson, 1978), p. 86.

²See Michael L. Peterson, "Christian Theism and the Problem of Evil," Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 21(1978): 35—46; Bruce Reichenbach, "The Inductive Argument from Evil," American Philosophical Quarterly 17 (1980): 221-27.

³See Alvin Plantinga, God and Other Minds: A Study of the Rational Justification of Belief in God (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University, 1967), p. 128.

⁴See Alvin Plantinga, "The Probabilistic Argument from Evil," Philo sophical Studies 35 (1979): 1-53.

⁵Jonathan Cohen, The Probable and the Provable (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1977).

⁶Mortimer J. Adler, The Conditions of Philosophy (New York: Dell, 1967).

⁷See Peter T. Manicas and Arthur N. Kruger, Logic: The Essentials (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1976), pp. 325-36; Carl Hempel, Philosophy of Natural Science (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1966), pp. 7-9.

⁸Manicas and Kruger, Logic, pp. 264-82.

⁹See Plantinga, "The Probabilistic Argument from Evil."

¹⁰George Schlesinger, Religion and Scientific Method (Hingham, MA: Reidel, 1977), p. 13.

¹¹ Ibid.,p.14.

¹² Gordon D. Kaufman, God: The Problem (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, 1972), pp. 171-72. (italics mine)

¹³ Walter Kaufmann, The Faith of a Heretic (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1961), p. 139. (italics mine)

¹⁴ James W. Cornman and Keith Lehrer, Philosophical Problems and Arguments: An Introduction (New York: Macmillan, 1970), pp. 340-41. (italics mine)

¹⁵ Ibid., p. 347. (italics mine)

¹⁶ Rowe, Philosophy, p. 89. (italics mine)

4

In recent years, philosophers have witnessed the demise of the logical version of the problem of evil.¹ Yet there is a growing opinion that evil constitutes a somewhat different kind of challenge to Christian theism, namely, that evil—even if it cannot be used to deduce an inconsistency within theism—provides strong evidence against theistic belief. No response to the problem of evil is complete unless it addresses this increasingly important line of argument. Chapter 3 identified the most crucial formulation of the evidential argument as that which is based on apparently gratuitous evil. In the present chapter, the elements of this formulation will be analyzed in detail. In the next chapter, a rebuttal of the argument will be attempted.

The central theistic claim in question is:

What may be called the evidential argument from gratuitous evil takes the following proposition as significant evidence against (G):

According to many authors, (E₃) makes (G) improbable, implausible, or unlikely. Some philosophers who advance this argument have tried to specify in precise quantitative terms the low degree of probability which (E₃) confers upon (G), but their efforts have been short-lived.²  Nevertheless, there is a genuine sense in which (E₃) can be taken to reduce the rational acceptability of (G). The sense of probability involved here is used in rational discussion generally.

Statements of the evidential argument from gratuitous evil are not difficult to find in the contemporary literature. We have already cited a statement of the argument by James W. Cornman and Keith Lehrer and another by William Rowe (pp. 74-75). But perhaps the clearest and most succinct statement of the argument is provided by Edward Madden and Peter Hare in Evil and the Concept of God:

Essentially, Madden and Hare take the prima facie truth of (E₃) to count as evidence against (G).

What must be recognized, however, is that the disconfirming effect of (E₃) is mediated by the assumption that God would allow no genuinely gratuitous evil. In chapter 3 this assumption was labeled the principle of meticulous providence and stated explicitly as follows:

It is important to note that at this point no reason need be given why God would not allow really gratuitous evils. There are numerous reasons offered in the literature. All that matters here is that this principle is widely held. It is also helpful to remember that no complete definition of "evil" or even of "gratuitous evil" need be given for the basic argument to stand. Virtually any definition of "gratuitous evil" could simply be substituted into the original context of debate and then the argument could proceed as before.

At this point we should review our symbolic model of the argument from gratuitous evil (from the last chapter):

1. If (G) is true, then, assuming that (MP) is true, (~E₃) should be true. (theological premise)

2. It is probable that (E₃) is true. (factual premise)

3. Therefore, it is probable that (G) is false. (logical conclusion)

The task at hand is to examine carefully the two basic premises in the argument. If just one of these two premises can be rebutted, the atheistic conclusion can be avoided. It will soon become apparent that an attempt to rebut either of the two impinges upon a number of complex philosophical issues.

The factual claim about the existence of gratuitous evil is expressed in a variety of ways, all of which display the a posteriori nature of the proposition. Terms such as "probable," "plausible," and "likely" are frequently employed to qualify the claim. For present purposes, such qualifiers come to roughly the same point: given the way certain evils appear to us, it is reasonable to believe that they have no point or purpose. Regardless of how this claim is expressed, it is common for philosophers entering the debate to view it as the premise which will make or break the overall argument from gratuitous evil.

Theists and atheists alike frequently assume that the principle of meticulous providence is clearly true and thus agree that the factual claim, that there probably is gratuitous evil, is the crucial point of contention. Madden and Hare state that "the really interesting problem of evil is whether the apparent gratuity can be explained away by more ingenious measures or whether the gratuity is real and hence detrimental to religious belief."⁵ William Rowe, who argues for an atheistic conclusion to the debate, writes: "if we are to fault this argument,.., we must find some fault with its [factual] premise."⁶ Keith Yandell, a theist, insists that the crucial question is whether it is certain, or at least more probable than not, that there is unjustified evil,  whether natural or moral...⁷ A list of similar statements could be continued indefinitely. Given this intense interest, we must carefully examine the claim that...

(E₃) Pointless or gratuitous evil exists.

The debate over this premise is more complex than might first be expected.

Debate over the Factual Premise

The atheist who advances the evidential problem of gratuitous evil must rationally support his contention that there is, or probably is, gratuitous evil. The overall strategy involved here becomes quite complicated, yet one key move is identifiable. The atheist must argue that many instances of evil cannot be justified on either extrinsic grounds (e.g., the promotion of greater goods, the prevention of greater evils, etc.) or intrinsic grounds (e.g., conformity to some ideal standard of goodness or meaning), and thus are gratuitous. It is not uncommon for atheistic writers to support the belief in gratuitous evil by describing some very significant evils in ways which accent their seemingly gratuitous character, or by cataloguing an impressive number of evils which appear to be gratuitous. But exactly what does this approach to the factual premise accomplish or fail to accomplish?

To take these two questions in reverse order, this approach fails to prove that there are no extrinsic or intrinsic grounds upon which the evils in question are meaningful or justified (i.e., not gratuitous). All it really shows is that there do not seem to be any such grounds, that we do not know what they could be, or at least that the person drawing the atheistic conclusion does not know what they could be. But to know this claim with certainty would require omniscience or an Archimedean vantage point on the world. After all, we are familiar with cases in which our first interpretation of the facts turned out not to be correct at all. In the present debate, theodicists have been fairly persuasive in pointing out that some apparently meaningless evils are not really meaningless (e.g., suffering can build character). Hence, theodicists correctly remind us of the tentative and fallible nature of the assertion that there is genuinely gratuitous evil.

What the atheistic approach to the factual premise does show is that, as long as the theist is committed to the principle that God would not allow really gratuitous evil, there appears to be counterevidence to theistic commitment. There is a prima facie conflict between what theism holds about the world and the way the world actually seems to be. Although the theist might offer plausible explanations why many apparently gratuitous evils are not really gratuitous, the atheistic opponent has at least succeeded in showing that theism encounters initial difficulty. The theist must come to grips with the facts which tend to falsify his claims about God. The evidential problem of gratuitous evil, therefore, is not a contrived or foreign consideration, but a problem which the theist has created for himself. His own conceptual commitments generate it and his further explanations must resolve it.

What, then, shall we say about the status of the factual premise? Shall we believe that there is gratuitous evil or that there is not? Or that there probably is or probably is not? Let us quickly review the issue step by step. Theists typically state or imply that God allows no gratuitous evil. Atheists indicate that gratuitous evil does seem to exist. Theists respond by giving reasons, or, in full form, theodicies, why apparently gratuitous evil can be interpreted instead as meaningful.

Of course, the continuing debate regarding the truth or probable truth of the factual claim requires further thrusts and parries. The atheist must show that major theodicies fail to account for some significant evils in the world. Furthermore, he must argue that there is no good reason to expect that new theodicies or permutations of old ones will ever be successful. If the atheist can do this, he will thereby have shown that it is more reasonable to believe that the factual premise is true than to believe it is false. In short, he will have cited rational grounds for believing that there are gratuitous evils.

Now the theist, on the other side, must continue to strengthen existing theodicies which seem correct and helpful. Moreover, he must construct a good argument to the effect that all evils are in principle covered by the theodicies offered, although there is no reason for his having to show in detail just how each individual evil is covered. If the theist can do all this, he will have gone a long way toward showing that it is more reasonable to believe that the factual premise is false than to believe it true. He will thereby have supplied rational grounds for believing that there is in fact no gratuitous evil.

Both of these respective strategies seem correct so far. But in looking at the contemporary state of the debate, it is apparent that neither the atheist nor the theist has succeeded. One weakness which frequently occurs in atheistic attempts to prove the factual premise is the unexamined assumption that the successive addition of instances of apparently gratuitous evil increases the likelihood that there is gratuitous evil. But whether there really is gratuitous evil must be argued on the basis of each particular instance or on the basis of some defensible general theory. From the sheer fact that there are many instances of apparently gratuitous evil, one must not hastily conclude that any instance or that all instances are really gratuitous. This not only begs the question entirely, but also increases the temptation to argue on a strictly emotional basis.

Theistic efforts, too, are not without shortcomings. One flaw in many theodicies is that they tacitly assume that God exists and then argue against gratuitous evil with this confidence smuggled in. But within the framework of the problem of evil, this is an illicit assumption, since God's existence is the very thing in question. For example, Gottfried Leibniz in his Theodicy took God's existence a a given for his discussion of evil. From that point, Leibniz simply argued that, since God would undoubtedly create - the best of all possible worlds, the created world must indeed be the best possible one. Whenever the theist makes this kind of mistake, the question of whether there is real gratuitous evil is begged, not argued.

Obviously, if the theist has convincing independent grounds for believing in God's existence (whether rational, historical, or experiential), these will have a bearing on his assessment of evils in the world. Now in light of the possibility of such independent arguments, how must the problem of evil be treated? Clearly, these arguments would have to be included in any complete evaluation of the theistic world-view. But in that overall evaluation each of the theistic arguments must be assessed on its own merits, an enterprise of no small proportions. Can talk of evil be suspended until the outcome of some of these other issues is known? Not very easily. And if the atheist likewise claims that he has reasons for the rejection of theism which are completely independent) of the problem of evil, the issue becomes further complicated.

What is needed, therefore, is to find out how much can be determined about gratuitous evil within the context of the problem itself, without drawing from allegedly independent arguments. Besides, it is not at all clear what definitive conclusion regarding God's existence could be reached in these other areas apart from the crucial consideration of evil. The problem of evil is certainly a key issue, and, for some, the key issue, in the complex question of the validity of Christian theism.

If we take a sort of purist position on the problem of evil, then we will want to hold in abeyance other arguments for and against God's existence, and thereby hope to rid the debate of some common theistic and atheistic fallacies. Recognizing the failures of both sides, as well as their partial successes, we might conclude that the debate over the existence of gratuitous evil is deadlocked and thus adopt a position of agnosticism on the question. Since the atheist's attempt to establish the premise that there is (or surely appears to be) gratuitous evil and the theist's attempt to rebut it may seem equally strong (or weak), we may think that it is most rational to suspend belief on the matter.

We should understand well, however, the impact of such an agnostic stance on the question of gratuitous evil, if an agnostic judgment on the issue of gratuitous evil results, it actually works to the advantage of the atheist. The atheist need not prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is gratuitous evil, but only that there are cases of apparently gratuitous evil which the theist cannot readily explain within his own system. Again, the point is that the evidential problem of evil is essentially the theist's problem: the theist holds a position typically taken to imply that there should be no gratuitous evil and yet there appear to be some gratuitous evils. Hence, the burden of proof is on the theist to remove the discrepancy. The atheist can simply urge that his case from gratuitous evil, regardless of whether it demonstrates conclusively that gratuitous evil exists, still shows that the difficulty is of such magnitude that theism ought not be affirmed.⁸ In the last analysis, then, atheistic efforts to show that there is or probably is gratuitous evil serve to emphasize the serious problem facing the theist and thus supply a good reason for not believing that theism is true.

As long as the theist understands his theological position to entail that there are no gratuitous evils, and as long as his efforts to show that there are none fall markedly shy of complete success, his conceptual commitments will always be in tension with ordinary experience of evil in the world, Theism will be forever plagued by a systematically insoluble problem. This is why a shift in much theistic thinking about gratuitous evil may be advisable, a shift which is faithful to the essential commitments of theism and solves the problem of gratuitous evil. Were the theist to admit both the possibility and actuality of some gratuitous evil, he still has a viable direction to take. In terms of the present argument from gratuitous evil, the theist could grant the factual premise, which has traditionally been the main point of contention. Then the way to prevent the atheistic argument from going through is to refuse to grant its other premise, which involves the principle that God allows no gratuitous evil. If the principle of meticulous providence is extricated from the interpretation of theistic commitment, then the theological premise of the argument does not hold. And if this premise does not hold, the argument cannot succeed.

Relinquishing the theological premise is not simply an ad hoc maneuver designed to provide immediate relief from a critical problem. It offers at least two important benefits to the theist who wrestles with the problem of evil. First, accepting the existence of some gratuitous evil is more consonant with our common experience than is the position which denies gratuitous evil a priori. Second, rejecting the principle of meticulous providence opens the way for a deeper and more profound apprehension of God than that widely accepted principle allows. This shift makes possible a theodicy for our day which is both experientially and conceptually adequate. To begin the development of this theodicy, a case for the acceptance of the premise that there is or probably is gratuitous evil must be made. (Why the principle of meticulous providence should be rejected will be discussed in the closing sections of this chapter and in the next chapter.)

The efforts of both theists and atheists who debate the existence of gratuitous evil must be accorded great respect. The enterprise of philosophical theology is richer for their contributions. However, it should not be automatically presumed that their efforts have approximately the same weight and that final judgment on the point must be diplomatically suspended. Although both sides have constructed strong and important arguments, one particular argument tips the scales in favor of the premise that there exists gratuitous evil, an argument on which This argument, simply put, insists on a general faithfulness to the common human experience of evil in the world. Since human experience registers the existence of some evils as being utterly gratuitous, it is more reasonable simply to accept the factual premise that gratuitous evil exists.

There is little doubt that a person's experience is conditioned by a multitude of factors: beliefs, attitudes, and even neural and chemical states. Since these factors differ among individuals, we cannot be too dogmatic in making pronouncements about what persons do or should experience. Yet, for the most part, philosophers have been successful in locating common elements in human experience, whether in the perception of simple material properties, such as colors, or the awareness of more highly abstract and interpretive phenomena, such as time. While these and other elements in human experience may sometimes be mistaken or distorted, they are generally reliable. In fact, it is the overall reliability of experience which serves to detect and correct its own errors. We cannot imagine what it would be for human experience, on whatever level of complexity, to be inherently unreliable. So many ingredients of human life and knowledge come to us through the avenues of experience that to deny its general validity is to raise the radical question of whether we are capable of knowing anything at all. This is why the position of strong skepticism has never gained consistent acceptance by anyone.

All of this has an interesting relationship to the debate over whether there is in fact gratuitous evil. It is common for both theist and atheist to agree that many of the evils of our world initially appear to be gratuitous; this seems to be part of our common human experience. The atheist seeks to establish the gratuitous character of these evils by further argument, and the theist typically seeks to argue that such evils are not really gratuitous. Clearly, theists have sometimes been successful in discovering the meaning or justification of certain apparently gratuitous evils or kinds of evils. Thus, theists have succeeded in correct ing or adjusting some of our initial experiences of evil, and this kind of occasional correction is normal. But to think that theists have shown (or could show) all prima facie gratuitous evils to be meaningful and justified is to adopt unwittingly a kind of skepticism regarding our experience of value and disvalue in the world. This is a higher price than any of us should be willing to pay.

The insistence that we not unduly discredit our common human experience of evil can be given both philosophical and theological force. Philosophically speaking, we should be wary about dismissing the more obvious in favor of the less obvious. In the present context, this implies that the persistent human experience of gratuitous evil comes with better credentials than the a priori denial of any gratuitous evil in a theistic universe. If the theist discredits this important aspect of human experience, it is difficult to see how he can confidently proceed to discuss the problem at hand (not to mention other important issues which also have basis in experience). A theistic case against gratuitous evil casts grave doubt on the reliability of human experience and on the moral and rational categories which condition it, and thus runs the risk of being self-defeating.

Theologically speaking, it is not clear that the theist himself would want to be saddled with the consequences of such a position. The belief that God created man with generally trustworthy rational and moral faculties is a standard component of almost all versions of Christian theism. Hence, it may be unwittingly inconsistent for the theist to claim that the human experience of gratuitous evil is regularly and systematically mistaken. This is not to suggest that all of our immediate or snap judgments about such things have some kind of divine guarantee. Not everything is really as it appears, and some apparently meaningless evils are found to be meaningful after careful investigation. Nevertheless, when the weight of human experience—both personal and historical—still registers many evils as pointless, extreme caution must be exercised in suggesting that such experience is spurious. Indeed, if the human experience of gratuitous evil were unfailingly wrong, the very fact that it is unfailingly wrong would surely have no good theological explanation, and would be a strong candidate for a gratuitous evil itself.

The attempt of theodicists to deny that there is gratuitous evil, then, is not experientially based. Such attempts are motivated by the preconception that God does not allow gratuitous evil, the principle of meticulous providence. As long as the theist understands his theological position to include this principle, he will have to reinterpret a significant part of human experience. The resultant tension between the actual experience of the world, on the one hand, and what theism presumably says that experience should be, on the other hand, is very great.

Much of the history of theodicy can be organized around those who choose to retain one pole of the tension and reject the other. Traditional theodicists characteristically maintain that there is no gratuitous evil and thus override the evidence of experience. Since this traditional orientation stems from the very logic of the concepts contained in a theistic view, it may be called a conceptual mode of doing theodicy. Modem theodicists tend to favor the construction of a theistic system on the basis of broad features of human experience. Hence, they opt for an experiential mode of theodicy. However, thinkers on both sides commit certain errors. Traditional theodicy preserves conceptual commitments but fails to take sufficient account of experience.⁹ Modem theodicy promises to take sufficient account of experience but modifies certain conceptual elements of theism to do so.¹⁰ What is needed is a theodicy which avoids both of these weaknesses and unites the conceptual and experiential elements.

The only way to remain faithful to the experience of gratuitous evil and at the same time retain a properly theistic conception of the world is to admit the fact that there is gratuitous evil, and to eliminate the curious theological principle which requires that there is no gratuitous evil. This entails the rejection of the theological premise in the evidential argument from gratuitous evil, and paves the way for a defense of theism which is both experientially and conceptually adequate.

The Principle of Meticulous Providence

Now that the existence of genuinely gratuitous evils as a truth of experience has been admitted, the way to defend against the evidential argument is to show why there is a place for some gratuitous evil within a theistic conception of the world. Such a defense involves qualifying theism so that prima facie gratuitous evils, and even really gratuitous evils, do not count as evidence against it. Such a qualification is not a contrived evasion of the facts of evil. Instead it involves a sophisticated explanation of theism which allows gratuitous evil, and thereby changes the evidential import of the facts of evil. If the theist can locate a place for gratuitous evil in his system, then the original theological premise does not hold. Hence the atheistic argument from gratuitous evil fails.

Consider the essential argument as contained in our model:

1. If (G) is true, then, assuming that (MP) is true, (~E₃) should be true. (theological premise)

2. It is probable that (E₃) is true. (factual premise)

3. Therefore, it is probable that (G) is false. (logical conclusion)

Obviously, this argument is effectively rebutted if either one of its premises can be shown false or unacceptable. It seems best not to exhaust our energies trying to disprove premise 2, which involves the factual claim that

         (E₃) Gratuitous or pointless evil exists.

Instead, we should closely examine and eventually reject premise 1. This premise, as we have seen, incorporates the very widespread, but not incontestable, assumption that

(MP) An omnipotent, omniscient, wholly good God would prevent or eliminate the existence of really gratuitous or pointless evils.

This is the principle of meticulous providence, a principle which is commonly believed to express a necessary implication of the proposition that

(G) An omnipotent, omniscient, wholly good God exists.

(G) is the fundamental theistic position in question. Insofar as (MP) is viewed as crucially linked to (G), (G) tends to be disconfirmed by (E₃). 

Both sides of the debate characteristically assume that (MP), or some version of it, is entirely sound. It is supposed to be a proposition which is either a necessary truth (say of logic or ethics) or an essential component of orthodox Christian theology, and thus a belief which the theist must retain. Various authors have tried to urge this point. In support of a premise which corresponds closely to (MP), William Rowe writes that it "seems to express a belief that accords with our basic moral principles, principles shared by both theists and nontheists."¹¹ In discussing a principle much like (MP), Terence Penelhum claims that the denial of genuinely gratuitous evil is integral to theism: "It is logically inconsistent for a theist to admit the existence of a pointless evil."¹²

Conceptions of Gratuitous Evil

There is much agreement that God allows no gratuitous evil, and this consensus is expressed in the principle of meticulous providence. However, authors sometimes have different grounds for holding (MP). Interestingly enough, (MP) seems to follow from various ethical or theological orientations. Although (MP) is formulated here in a way which transcends these differing orientations, a brief exploration of them will shed light on why (MP) has been accepted. There seem to be two basic ethico-theological frameworks which can be taken as supporting (MP): one is teleological in character and the other is deontological. The former position evaluates an evil on the basis of extrinsic considerations; the latter evaluates an evil in terms of its intrinsic nature.

In the current literature on God and evil, the teleological approach is the more common one. In fact, theists and atheists frequently use teleological criteria in discussing the issue of gratuitous evil: evils are appraised with reference to their relations to other goods and evils. An evil is justified if, and only if, it is necessary to the existence of some actual or possible greater good, or to the prevention or elimination of some greater evil; an evil is gratuitous if it bears no such relations. Authors who deny that there is gratuitous evil in this sense typically articulate the denial in one of the following ways: that God sees to it that every individual evil is outweighed by some good, that He insures that this world contains on balance more good than evil, that He created the best of all possible worlds, or the like. As Keith Yandell writes:

"The orthodox theist is committed to the truth of some version of the greater good defense."¹³ Whether Yandell's point is correct will be discussed in the next chapter. It suffices here to emphasize the long-standing tendency to understand theism in this way.

The deontological orientation is more difficult to define than is the teleological. Yet, if given adequate formulation, the deontological orientation is the stronger one and hence gives rise to a more serious problem. In the deontological view, an evil is regarded as justified or gratuitous on the basis of some internal property which it possesses, or fails to possess, or on the basis of its conformity, or lack of it, to some absolute standard of goodness or meaning. Thus, authors who share this perspective scrutinize evils according to whether they are somehow meaningful in themselves, and not on the basis of their consequences. This fundamental approach is echoed in the saying that no one, not even God, may do evil that good may come.

Dostoevsky's Ivan made this kind of point with Alyosha when he urged that no higher harmony could justify or make meaningful the suffering of just one poor child.¹⁴  Madden and Hare seem to sponsor the same sort of view, as they often argue against theism by attempting to show not merely that there are horrendous evils which do not promote future goods, but that no future goods could justify or compensate for those evils anyway.¹⁵ Whatever terms these and other authors use—"genuinely gratuitous evil," "absolute evil," "ultimately meaningless evil," "surd evil," or the like—they are convinced that the God of Christian theism cannot allow such evil to exist within His creation.

There is no point here in trying to reach a definitive statement regarding which of the two ethico-theological orientations provides the proper undergirding for the principle of meticulous providence. Both perspectives are important components of ethical and theological thinking;¹⁶ and when the principle of meticulous providence is linked with either of these perspectives, serious problems regarding the concept of gratuitous evil result. Since Christian thinkers generally adopt the principle in question, they typically answer these problems on their own terms. They supply either teleological or deontological justifications for apparently gratuitous evils. If theists were to see that they need not accept the principle of meticulous providence, they would be able to answer the problems of gratuitous evil in entirely new ways. Our subsequent rebuttal of the principle is designed to hold regardless of whether it is rooted in a teleological or a deontological orientation.

If we grant the factual claim that there is gratuitous evil, the way to rebut the evidential argument from gratuitous evil is to find fault with its theological premise. Since the orthodox theism represented in the theological premise is not negotiable, the premise must instead be attacked by questioning the principle of meticulous providence which it involves. Although the principle may be thought to derive from some fundamental ethical and theological ideals, it can be shown to be unnecessary either to morality or to theism. Indeed a case can be made that the principle of meticulous providence conflicts with our best ethical and theological understanding. The next chapter selects two of the most important reasons why the principle must be rejected.  One reason rests on the idea of a free moral order; the other stems from the idea of a natural order. Once these ideas are delineated, a conception of the kind of world which embodies them can be developed. We will discover that some gratuitous evil is at least possible in such a world.

¹This demise has largely been due to the efforts of Alvin Plantinga, Keith Yandell, John Hick, M. B. Ahern, and several others who have provided serious rebuttals from a theistic point of view.

²See Wesley Salmon, "Religion and Science: A New Look at Hume's Dialogues," Philosophical Studies 33 (1978): 143-76; Nancy Cartwright, "Comments on Wesley Salmon's 'Science and Religion,' "Philosophical Studies 33 (1978): 177-83; and Alvin Plantinga, "The Probabilistic Argument from Evil," Philosophical Studies 35 (1979): 1-53.

³Edward Madden and Peter Hare, Evil and the Concept of God (Springfield, IL: Charles C. Thomas, 1968), p.3.

⁴See Edward Madden and Peter Hare, "Evil and Inconclusiveness," Sophia 11(1972): 12. The point is simply that a kind of inconclusiveness is characteristic of evidential or inductive reasoning.

⁵Madden and Hare, Evil and the Concept of God, p.3.

⁶William Rowe, Philosophy of Religion: An Introduction (Belmont, CA: Dickenson, 1978), p. 88.

⁷Keith Yandell, Basic Issues in the Philosophy of Religion (Boston: Allyn and Bacon, 1971), pp. 62-63.

⁸A kind of rational stalemate is all that the atheist needs to obtain when employing the evidential problem of gratuitous evil.

⁹I.e., traditional theodicy retains the principle of meticulous providence and reinterprets the experience of gratuitous evil to conform to it. Augustine, Aquinas, Leibniz, and others take this course.

¹⁰I.e., modern theodicy preserves the experience of gratuitous evil and then alters one or more of the divine attributes in order to account for it. Edgar Brightman, Karl Barth, Alfred North Whitehead, and others take this course.

¹¹Rowe, Philosophy, p. 88.

¹²Terence Penelhum, "Divine Goodness and the Problem of Evil," in Readings in the Philosophy of Religion: An Analytic Approach, ed. Baruch Brody (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1974), p. 226.

¹³Keith Yandell, "The Greater Good Defense," Sophia 13 (1974): 1.

¹⁵Madden and Hare, Evil and the Concept of God, especially pp. 63—65. Other authors who discuss this matter of whether goods can somehow justify evils include: Arthur Schopenhauer, "On the vanity and Suffering of Life," in the Supplements to the Fourth Book of The World as Will and Idea, trans. R. B. Haldane and J. Kemp (New York: AMS Press, 1976); George E. Moore, Principia Ethica (New York: Cambridge University, 1966), p. 30; Roderick Chisholm, "The Defeat of Good and Evil," Proceedings of the American Philosophical Association 42 (1968—1969): 2 1—38; David Ray Griffin, God, Power, and Evil: A Process Theodicy (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1976), pp. 2 1—22.

¹⁶The teleological orientation is found in ethical theories such as utilitarianism, and in religious positions which affirm the purposes of God working through all things. The deontological orientation is found in ethical positions such as intuitionism and natural-law theory, and in positions which demand that we "must do justice though the heavens fall."

The experience of evil is a fundamental and pervasive feature of human existence. However, contemporary thinkers often seem unable to articulate the exact nature of the problem as it occurs in ordinary life. Professional philosophers typically discuss the problem of evil as a technical and logical dilemma, and thereby remove it from the grasp of many laymen.¹ Theologians, on the other hand, currently tend to treat the problem as an emotional dilemma and thereby neglect its rational impact.² Writers on both sides have been polarized, each side insisting that the other is insensitive to important aspects of the problem. While there is no question that abstract reflection is crucial to solving the problem of evil, and that emotional responses to evil cannot be ignored, the problem as a whole is not exclusively cognitive or exclusively emotive.

There is a dimension of the problem of evil in which thought, feeling, and volition coalesce, a response which reflects a total sense of life. This might appropriately be called the existential dimension of the problem of evil. Yet this problem cannot be described as a simple juxtaposition of the logical and emotional responses to evil. Now that the evidential argument from gratuitous evil has been identified as an important theoretical expression of the problem, we have a fresh clue as to the real existential impact of the problem. Furthermore, the solutions previously offered for the theoretical argument from gratuitous evil suggest ways of handling the existential question of gratuitous evil.

Our analysis is divided into three phases. First, we will determine precisely what the experience of evil is, particularly the experience of gratuitous evil. Second, we will explore fitting ways to cope with or respond to the sense of evil in human existence. Third, we will study how the experience of evil - even gratuitous evil - functions within the total context of commitment to a Christian worldview and way of life.

Religious Commitment and the Meaning of Evil

The setting of Albert Camus's novel The Plague is the Algerian town of Oran, which is stricken by a deadly epidemic. As the townspeople begin to realize the seriousness of the disaster which has befallen them, they raise the timeless question of why God allows such evil to exist. Father Paneloux, a Jesuit priest, is asked to deal with this question in a sermon to the people. In his opening words, Father Paneloux issues a harsh accusation: "Calamity has come to you, my brethren, and, my brethren, you deserved it."³ He charges that the people have been lax in their obedience to God and have brought the plague upon themselves as punishment. The priest goes on to explain that God has ordained the entire scheme of things, the evil as well as the good, "wrath and pity; the plague and your salvation."⁴ And he maintains that God's purposes are hidden in His supreme reason, which cannot be questioned by puny human minds.

After preaching this sermon, Paneloux joins a team whose job is to care for those who are suffering and dying. But while serving on the team, Paneloux witnesses the agonizing death of an innocent child. Paneloux and Doctor Rieux, who is very likely Camus's protagonist, attend the child throughout the night. Upon the child's death, Rieux turns to Paneloux and exclaims fiercely, "Ah! That child, anyhow, was innocent, and you know it as well as I do!"⁵ Paneloux's reply to Rieux reiterates the appeal to God's transcendent reason which humanity cannot fathom: "That sort of thing is revolting because it passes our human understanding. But perhaps we should love what we cannot understand."⁶

Obviously there is much to discuss in Camus's disturbing tale.⁷ The dogmatic defense of evil - by citing the retributive theory, appealing to a greater future harmony, and ultimately resorting to the inscrutable divine wisdom - merits careful and sustained discussion. However, all of these maneuvers simply reflect the underlying conviction that all evils are somehow meaningful and justified. In other words, they are simply concrete applications of the principle of meticulous providence. The implication of such thinking, as we have seen, is that there is really no gratuitous evil in the world. In the case of Father Paneloux, the suffering of the innocent child had to have some justification, even though he is driven to confess that perhaps only God knows what it is. The powerful lesson which emerges here can be generalized to cover many other cases in which the principle of meticulous providence is dogmatically accepted. What Camus seems to suggest, using the figure of Paneloux, is that as long as one believes that there is no genuinely gratuitous evil, he will tend to deny or distort the import of his actual experience of the world. After his earlier claims about the punitive nature of the plague, Paneloux could not squarely face the clear innocence of the child. Likewise, many religious believers who adopt (consciously or unconsciously) some version of the principle of meticulous providence on the conceptual level have great difficulty accepting the experience of gratuitous evil as veridical.

When one recognizes the tension between the theoretical commitment to meticulous providence, on the one hand, and the existential perception of gratuitous evil, on the other hand, he has only a few basic options for removing that dissonance. If he takes the principle of meticulous providence to be absolutely essential to Christian theism, then he may either revise other parts of theism in light of the experience of gratuitous evil, or reinterpret his experience in light of the categories he attributes to theism. Many contemporary theodicists tend to take the former route, promising a new account of theism which is faithful to human experience. Traditional theodicists tend to go the latter route and thus construe every evil as necessarily having some meaning or justification. And those thinkers who do not think it possible to revise theism adequately or to reinterpret experience sufficiently tend to reject theism altogether.

Perhaps Sidney Hook explains the tension best by saying that "no religion which conceives of God as both omnipotent and benevolent, no metaphysics which asserts that the world is rational, necessary and good has any room for genuine tragedy."⁸ Tragedy, for Hook, is roughly equivalent to what we are calling gratuitous evil. And Hook is right insofar as he is referring to any religion which assumes that God is a fastidious deity who always makes things turn out for the best. One who adheres to such a religious orientation is usually unable to accept genuine tragedy. This rejection of genuine tragedy takes place not only on the conceptual level, but, consequently, on the experiential level as well. Erazim Koha'k notes: "Christians, specifically, have regularly been accused of a constitutional inability to grasp the reality of tragedy because of their confidence in the ultimate victory of good over evil."⁹ Koha'k proceeds to explain how theological affirmations may be used as emotional opiates to assuage the experience of tragedy.

Conceptual Structure and the Experience of Gratuitous Evil

What we have come to is the realization that one's conceptual commitments condition the range and quality of his experience. As we have already seen, one's adherence to certain theological perspectives reduces the likelihood that he will perceive the full impact of tragedy in the world. Based on such perspectives, which characteristically involve the principle of meticulous providence, the tendency is to reinterpret the data of experience in such a way as to deny that there are gratuitous evils. Chapter 4 cautioned against undue reconstruction of experience and thus advised acceptance of the factual premise in the theoretical arguments from gratuitous evil. This paved the road for a different answer to the argument. In the current discussion, it is likewise recommended that the facts of gratuitous evil be accepted, but for reasons which now pertain to the experiential domain of the problem of evil. The motivation here is that the experience of tragedy and gratuitous evil is an important aspect of the human condition. Hence, any set of conceptual categories which tends to exclude gratuitous evil diminishes the sense of evil and thereby a crucial aspect of the human venture. When the experience of gratuitous evil is accepted as generally valid, and the principle of meticulous providence is relinquished, one may reap both conceptual and experiential benefits. In the previous chapters, we discovered conceptual benefits for theology when pointless and tragic evils are admitted. Let us now investigate the experiential advantages for theism.

The experience of the tragic undoubtedly has a complex and intricate phenomenological structure which cannot be fully described in a few pages. Nevertheless, there are several aspects of this experience which have implications for the overall problem of gratuitous evil, and thus merit attention here. Before proceeding, it must be emphasized that the whole notion of experience is problematic in many respects. For example, the concept of experience is ambiguous with respect to its temporal characteristics. It is equally legitimate to speak of "the experience of pain upon stubbing one's toe" and to speak of "the experience of living in a foreign country," expressions which do not denote comparable temporal boundaries. Other ambiguous features of the concept of experience could be readily enumerated. However, the present focus on the experience of the tragic will not be its problematic aspects, but those aspects of it which seem clear and essential.

A central point here is that there is an intimate interplay between reason and emotion in human experience in general and in the experience of tragedy in particular. Any experience, even that of the tragic, is largely a product of these two factors. There is a prevailing opinion that reason and emotion are alien to one another. But the best of philosophical anthropology suggests that there is a close relation between the two. An emotion has no meaning without some conceptual interpretation being placed upon it. One's conceptual commitments antecedently condition the quality of one's emotions, and determine one's consequent reflection upon them.

It is important, then, that we recognize the almost organic unity between thought and feeling as we examine the experience of tragedy. To speak of this experience is not only to express an emotion about the terrible pangs of life felt in the presence of evil, but also to communicate something of the meaning of those feelings—a meaning which derives from more general and abstract conceptual commitments. Two persons who possess very different conceptual schemes frequently assign quite different significance to what might otherwise seem to be similar experiences. This is why theists who accept the principle of meticulous providence cannot fully experience the horrendous evils of our world. But if one admits the real possibility of gratuitous evil into his conceptual interpretation of the world, his experience of much evil is radically altered. In the following paragraphs, a proposal is made regarding what appear to be the prominent characteristics of the experience of gratuitous evil, taking into account the fact that these experiential modalities reflect certain conceptual commitments. It will become evident that the experience of real gratuitous evil rests on conceptual commitments which logically exclude the principle of meticulous providence.

One aspect of the experience of the tragic is that of the transience of value in human life. This does not mean that value itself passes, but that things of value, instances of value, last only for a time. Regardless of how strongly we cherish the goods of existence (e.g., friendship, beauty, creativity, and even life itself), there persists the disturbing apprehension that they are fragile and fleeting. Some goods are destroyed and replaced by unmistakable evils. The existential sense of the temporal impermanence of value in the world is accented by the recognition of the ultimate and universal character of value itself. Values in the abstract sense are not simply the expression of personal desires or goals, and are not merely the objects of social consensus. Values are transcendent and intensely precious; their claim upon our lives is absolute and non-negotiable. It is in this light that the inevitable diminution of value in human experience may indeed be tragic.

The sheer transience of value in human existence, though a necessary condition for experience of the tragic, is not a sufficient one. Obviously, the transience of value per se is not always tragic. The value of initial cordiality must give way to the value of deeper friendship; the pianist must allow each note to die in turn in order that other beautiful notes may live. It is when there is unnecessary frustration or premature termination of value that the sense of the tragic properly arises. The very creation of value is often contingent upon situations which are themselves impermanent and subject to drastic change. This seems to put the actualization and continuation of value out of our complete control and make it subject to what is sometimes fortuitous and alien. So the tragic sense is constituted by the experience not merely of the passing of value, but of its senseless and gratuitous passing.

This is the tragic sense which gripped Doctor Rieux and caused him to reject the answers of Paneloux in The Plague. The stricken child deserved to live and be fulfilled, and yet its life was senselessly snuffed out; no conceptual contrivance could explain this away. But as long as Paneloux believed that all present evils contribute to greater goods, perhaps to goods known only to the divine wisdom, then he could not be struck by the deep sense of tragedy which the child's ordeal occasioned in Rieux.

Just as we must accept gratuitous evil on the conceptual level, we must not shut out the impact of gratuitous evil on the experiential level. If this suggestion is basically correct—that the sense of gratuitous evil is part of the complete range of legitimate human responses—it is a fortiori part of the range of Christian responses. But if conditioned by the principle of meticulous providence, or some version of it, the experience of evil may be doomed to triviality, never capturing the significance of man's precarious venture in the realm of values. It can be argued, therefore, that only by rejecting the conceptual commitment to meticulous providence can we fully experience the utterly pointless destruction of good and the devastating presence of evil in the world.

Dealing with the Experience of Gratuitous Evil

The experience of senseless, pointless evil demands a careful response. How can we deal with this experience and fit it into the whole of life? One response is given by Miguel de Unamuno in his modern masterpiece, Tragic Sense of Life. The Spanish philosopher explores the human longing for personal immortality. The book is permeated with the question of whether the pursuit of value— indeed, whether the living of life itself—is worth it, if life does not endure eternally. In his own inimical way, Unamuno writes:

Unamuno takes the fleeting character of value as grounds for the belief that life is tragic. He suggests that anyone who does not possess this perception is emotionally shallow.

One need not share Unamuno's pessimistic perspective on the fleeting nature of life. Unamuno rightly rejects the superficial position that the tragic sense is based on the frustration of one's own private desires and preferences. The tragic sense has to do with something much more profound and disturbing than that: the really important sense of tragedy pertains to the unwanted and ill-timed diminution of the values of life. However, Unamuno exaggerates the conclusion which should be drawn from this fact. He concludes that life itself—all of life—is tragic if value cannot be permanent within it. While those who call life tragic because it thwarts their personal preferences are trapped in a hollow form of solipsism, Unamuno's "tragic sense," based merely on the temporal aspects of value, seems inordinately sentimental. Both extremes are wrong.

Life itself is not tragic, but it includes the tragic. The soul which properly experiences real life will not find it tragic per se, but will find tragic elements in it. The reason for saying that life as a whole is not tragic is quite straightforward. We can correctly repudiate the idea that the fragile and fleeting nature of value renders the attempt to create it pointless. The fact that attempts to realize values sometimes fail, and the fact that realized values are inevitably swept away by the inexorable flow of time, elicit despair only in those who do not fully comprehend what value and its attainment are all about. The intrinsic quality of value is not lost because its embodiment in human affairs does not last forever. The quest for and achievement of value within this perishing, temporal life are worthwhile for their own sake. The aesthetic pleasure one enjoys today may fade away tomorrow; the good deeds one performs in this life may be forgotten after his death. But the appearance of such values in human existence renders life intensely meaningful and important, and prevents it from being utterly tragic. Temporal life, then, has supreme value because eternal values are sought and found in it. The creation of value in temporal life has ultimate significance.

Whenever love, joy, freedom, dignity, and a host of other goods are instantiated, an absolute and eternal quality is introduced into human experience. The instances of these goods may pass away, but nothing—not even God—can make it to be that they never were. John Bennett captures this point with poetic genius in "On an Old Photograph of Young Men and Women at a Picnic":

somewhere in the simple country

at a meadow's edge where tree shade

dapples bent grasses.

a rail fence straggles uphill. The fence is odd, 

at least for Wisconsin. Overhead

the thrusting splay of a pine branch

mentions the sky.

deep in their innocent summer

and make the usual gestures.

One young man with sideburns

holds up his mug of beer, its froth rising upward forever.

The girl sitting next to him, 

her blond hair tamed in a strict coil, 

rests her slim hand on his shoulder. 

Aphrodite in shirtwaist and ruffles, 

she, too, is forever

and knows nothing at all of Yeats. 

The photographer, doubly anonymous, 

has fulfilled his joyous commission 

during this lapse of a moment.

Six young men and women sit 

at the edge of eden-meadow in dappled pine shade and sunlight. 

Incredibly vibrant and handsome, 

they are, I suppose, three courting couples.

Time is a one-way glass for any 

Now that opens only always on the Past; 

not knowing it, they look clear-eyed 

into the camera lens toward sixty years 

and cannot see me in this unformed day. 

But I watch them within the photograph 

and my heart moves back toward theirs 

in their flaming changeless summer. 

They are becoming what they have become; 

pure actual occasions both doomed and immortal.

There past the faintly crazed surface, 

purely there, and there nameless 

in puffed sleeves and ribbons, 

in stiff collars and striped shirts, 

and there, too, in the depth of lost time 

and the joy of their burning bodies, 

they move from being to being, 

forever and ever becoming 

pure actual occasions, 

pure human occasions.

I do not know their names. 

Circa 1910. Before the War, 

somewhere in Wisconsin.

No one remembers their names.

they existed in the real world, 

that for a brief while 

they laughed in warm sunlight 

and loved one another forever, 

posed on the bright edge of eden-meadow.¹¹

If what has been argued regarding the temporal attainment of value is essentially correct, then the experience of gratuitous evil is not to be met with despair, but hope. The same general conditions which make possible the tragic passing of value are the very conditions which also make possible its creation: freedom, creativity, and the neutrality of the external world. And the creation of positive value, though it may last only for a time, is worth it.

When we augment the human quest for value with a Christian perspective, it takes on even greater significance. Christianity holds that it is God who provides the conditions for the human creation of value and hence that man becomes a cocreator of value with Him. Thus there can be religious hope in the midst of senseless evil.

We should first determine what is entailed by the statement that the Christian theist can experience the creation of value as a partnership with God. Put negatively, the statement does not entail that God is somehow limited by factors beyond His control and thus needs human cooperation to achieve His purposes.¹² Actually, the statement suggests only that for God to guarantee the success of good and prevent gratuitous evil would be for Him to jeopardize the significance of the human struggle for value. As argued in chapter 5, for God to preclude the possibility of gratuitous evils would also be for Him to preclude the possibility of some meaningful goods.

A second point is that the experience of being cocreator of value along with God includes a sense of the precariousness of man's position in a world of fragile and fleeting values. There are simply no divine guarantees that our struggles for good in this life will succeed. Although God ordains the quest for values, the ever-present possibility of cherished goods being tragically destroyed by human as well as nonhuman forces continually haunts us. Hence, there is no place for excessive religious optimism, such as that sometimes displayed by adherents to the principle of meticulous providence. And yet this possibility need not lead to a paralyzing pessimism, such as that shown by Camus's Doctor Rieux. Rieux believes that the world is hostile to human values, that it is an immoral world. Despite the negative aspects of existence, the Christian theist experiences the world as a context for the creation of value in which God plays a part—indeed, as a place in which God has already made decisive moves in the struggle for all that is good.

This brings us to a third point regarding the Christian experience of the creation of value. The life and work of Jesus Christ, when seen in the categories we have been using, is God's decisive blow in the struggle for good and against evil. Our existential involvement in the struggle is enhanced by identification with the figure of Jesus Christ.¹³ In a very real sense, the suffering and death of Jesus serve as a paradigm case of utterly senseless and horrible evil: a man who had done nothing but good was brutally tortured and killed. The Christian affirmation that this man is God incarnate entails that God Himself understands immediately and directly our pains and sufferings, and our feelings of helplessness and vulnerability in the face of the destructive forces of evil. The resurrection of Jesus Christ, then, is tragedy turned to triumph. Evil could not dominate. In the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, the present potency of evil is diminished, the struggle for good empowered, and the final victory assured.

Reference to the kind of victory over evil which Jesus made possible is not inconsistent with the belief that some evil will remain forever gratuitous. In a certain sense of gratuitous evil—particularly a deontological sense—it is not clear how many horrible evils could ever be justified. And, according to the line of reasoning in this book, it is perhaps wrong-headed to expect such justification. The eschaton, then, need not be envisioned as a future state in which all evils are compensated for or made meaningful. Part of God's plan seems to be to place on man's shoulders the burden, at once ennobling and awesome, of creating or destroying values in a way which can never totally be revoked. God's culmination of all things and the manifestation of His kingdom must, therefore, include a kind of tragic beauty—a beauty wrought in spite of the fact that every evil cannot be requited. In no way does this imply that these evils are somehow justified because of some higher harmony or eternal bliss. It simply affirms that God has chosen to take the human enterprise seriously, even if that means that irrevocable evil is some times produced. But it also affirms that He fully intends to accomplish His will and establish an everlasting kingdom in a way consonant with that enterprise.

The real triumph over evil should be understood as occurring now in the spirits of the redeemed and ultimately in the destruction of the structures of evil which dominate this age. This is the decisive conquest over evil which Jesus announced in the midst of history and which will be culminated at the end of history. Until that final time, we must continue to live in a world where genuine tragedy can occur, where evil sometimes seems invincible and good so transient. This is the grand risk of God's program; no other program can compare with the exquisite one which He has initiated on our behalf. The theist who understands this venture in values—the opportunities for realizing them and the chances of losing them—has attained an important glimpse into the meaning of life itself. The Christian theist can have confidence that God is with him in this venture, helping him resist evil and do good.¹⁴ Although there are no guarantees that one will be successful in every endeavor in the realm of values, the Christian theist can know that God will use his efforts for eternal purposes.

The function of the christological motif here should not be misunderstood. It is not meant to imply that there is no ultimately gratuitous evil, and thus proffer a type of greater-good theodicy. Neither is it intended to offer experiential "absolution" from coming up with a theoretical solution to the problem. Insofar as the problem of evil calls theism into question, it strikes at the foundations of Christianity. Therefore, Christianity cannot initially be employed to defend theism or to generate a theodicy. However, once theism is properly defended, it is perfectly legitimate to draw from the resources of Christian thought in order to develop a full theodicy.

The christological motif in the present discussion is designed to be a key to how the Christian theist may relate himself existentially to the world. When the principle of meticulous providence is relinquished and an alternative rendering of God's relation to evil is given, the way is open for the theistic believer to experience the world through different categories. The figure of Jesus Christ, though unique in certain important respects, goes a long way toward supplying these categories. Jesus Christ experienced fully the severe evil and tragedy in the world and responded with aggressive goodness. Upon recognizing the gratuitous evil in our world and the ever-present possibility of its increase, we too should strive against it and endeavor to produce good. The figure of Christ is God's proof that He feels the struggle with us and supplies strength to continue. Nowhere in the words and deeds of Christ is suggested that the earthly search for value must automatically be successful or that our emotional response to evil should always be tranquil and optimistic. Instead the complete range of legitimate human emotions is found in the person of Christ. The christological motif envisioned here makes room for real failure and real tragedy, and it gives a place even to the emotions of anguish and rage. This motif also incorporates the idea that there is a kind of stern justice in the unalterable conditions of the human endeavor. But it also accents the fact that the presence of God in the struggle gives special hope.

The Existential Problem of Evil and Christian Commitment

The existential awareness of gratuitous evil is only one aspect of our total lived experience. Hence, it is only one of numerous factors relevant to the final acceptance or rejection of Christian theism. Earlier in this chapter, we saw that the experience of tragic, pointless evil, considered in itself, does not disconfirm a conceptually adequate theistic system. In this section, we will examine how the experience of evil functions within the larger context of thought and life, and then try to determine its bearing on the viability of Christian theism.

We can begin to place the problem of evil in context by reviewing exactly how both its theoretical and existential formulations have been handled within the scope of this book. First, we have seen that the theoretical problem of gratuitous evil has force only if the principle of meticulous providence holds. As long as the principle is mistakenly attributed to Christian theism, the obvious facts of gratuitous evil will constitute a strong, and perhaps a sufficient, reason for the rejection of theism. The strategy for rebutting the theoretical problem of evil is straightforward. We should not deny or distort the gratuitous evils of common experience; rather we should rethink certain elements within the conceptual structure of theism and eventually reject the spurious principle of meticulous providence. Doing this not only rebuts the theoretical problem of evil, but also suggests a more realistic and profound understanding of Christian theism.

Second, we have seen that the existential objection from evil loses much of its force when the theoretical structure of Christian theism is properly understood. Since there is an intimate connection between concept and experience, it is quite natural that the significance attributed to one's experience changes when one's thinking changes. Hence, the tendency for the experience of gratuitous evil to lead toward an atheistic conclusion is greatly reduced when the principle of meticulous providence is removed from the conception of Christian theism. In fact, a stronger thesis might be urged to the effect that the proper conceptual change not only reduces the tendency toward atheism, but also gives the experience of gratuitous evil a measure of theistic significance. In other words, having the proper categories for the role of evil allows one to perceive a theistic world—albeit one in which meaningless evil is both possible and actual.

At this point, a symmetry has been developed between the theoretical and existential responses to gratuitous evil. In responding to the theoretical problem, we showed first that gratuitous evil does not disconfirm theism. Then we showed that, to the contrary, gratuitous evil can be so construed as to confirm theism. Now, in responding to the existential problem, we have likewise argued that the experience of gratuitous evil need not lead to the conclusion that we are perceiving a nontheistic world. Instead, we are perceiving a complex and profound theistic world, a perception mediated in part by gratuitous evil.

After showing that the theoretical and existential problems of evil can be effectively rebutted, much more remains to be said in appraising theism. The burden of this book is to argue that the problem of evil—even in its most severe form—can be refuted, and that it can even be turned into a subtle confirmation of Christian theism. There are many other considerations, both theoretical and existential, which are relevant. Moreover, there are other worldviews, both religious and secular, which compete with theism. These competing views, which must also be carefully evaluated, encounter their own distinct problems of evil.¹⁵ All of this makes the issue of Christian theism quite complicated. What we are left with, then, is the grueling but rewarding task of sifting and weighing all of the arguments pertinent to Christian theism and its rivals. There is no simple formula for completing this evaluation, but there is no responsible way of avoiding it either. We must proceed with humility and tolerance, fairness and good sense. For many who have taken up the task, Christian theism is a conceptually and experientially adequate world-and-life view, more adequate than alternative views.

¹This abstract dilemma is essentially the logical version of the problem of evil (see chapter 2).

²The emotional response to the problem of evil is discussed HERE.

³Albert Camus, The Plague, trans. Stuart Gilbert (New York: Random House, 1948), pp. 86-87.

⁴Ibid., p. 90.

⁵Ibid., p. 196.

⁶Ibid.

⁷See Ben Mijuskovic, "Camus and the Problem of Evil," Sophia 15 (1976): 11-19.

⁸Sidney Hook, Pragmatism and the Tragic Sense of Life (New York: Basic Books, 1974), p. 18.

⁹Erazim Koha'k, "The Person in a Personal World: An Inquiry into the Metaphysical Significance of the Tragic Sense of Life," Independent Journal of Philosophy 1 (1977): 60.

¹⁰Miguel de Unamuno, Tragic Sense of Life, trans. J. Crawford Flitch (New York: Dover, 1954) p. 96.

¹¹John Bennett, Griefs and Exultations (West De Pere, WI: St. Norbert College, 1970), pp. 5—8.

¹²Edgar Brightman, e.g., understands deity as limited in specific ways and thus in need of human partnership. For a critique of all versions of finitism, see Keith Yandell, "The Problem of Evil," paper delivered at the Wheaton Annual Philosophy Conference, October 1980.

¹³"Identification" here means, at a minimum, accepting His salvation and attempting to live according to His will. The term also suggests some degree of reflective understanding of the relation of Jesus Christ to good and evil in the world.

¹⁴This in no way implies that God is just going along with our program.  In a real sense, the human venture is His program. But it is His program for us.  He cannot, therefore,  always, or even frequently, intervene in direct ways.  For the most part, He helps, guides, encourages, and empowers; the initiative within this context, then, is ours.

¹⁵E.g., all major world religions are faced with explaining evil in terms of their own conceptual frameworks; also, a variety of secular philosophies, such as Marxism and naturalism, must do the same. An assumption of this book is that these competing systems do not handle their problems of evil as well as Christian theism handles its problem. Furthermore, it is assumed that the responses generated on the basis of Christian theism are more consonant with common human experience than are the responses of any alternative system.

Selected Bibliography


Books

Ahern, M. B. The Problem of Evil. New York: Schocken Books, 1971.

Bowker, John. Problems of Suffering in Religions of the World. New York: Cambridge University, 1970.

Ferre', Nels. Evil and the Christian Faith. New York: Harper and Brothers, 1947.

Galligan, Michael. God and Evil. New York: Paulist, 1976.

Geach, Peter T. Providence and Evil. New York: Cambridge University, 1977.

Griffin, David Ray. God, Power, and Evil: A Process Theodicy. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1976.

Hick, John. Evil and the God of Love. Revised edition. New York: Harper and                 Row, 1975.

Joad, C. E. M. God and Evil. New York: Harper and Brothers, 1943.

Journet, Charles. The Meaning of Evil. Translated by Michael Barry. New York: P. J. Kenedy and Sons, 1963.

Lewis, C. S. The Problem of Pain. New York: Macmillan, 1962.

Madden, Edward, and Hare, Peter. Evil and the Concept of God. Springfield, IL: Charles C. Thomas, 1968.

Maritain, Jacques. God and the Permission of Evil. Translated by Joseph Evans. Milwaukee: Bruce, 1966.

Plantinga, Alvin. God, Freedom, and Evil. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1977.

________ , The Nature of Necessity. New York: Oxford University, 1974.

Schilling, S. Paul. God and Human Anguish. Nashville: Abingdon, 1977.

Sontag, Frederick. The God of Evil: An Argument from the Existence of the Devil. New York: Harper and Row, 1970.

Articles

Aiken, Henry D. "God and Evil: A Study of Some Relations Between Faith and Morals." Ethics 68 (1958): 77-97.

Basinger, David. "Evil as Evidence Against the Existence of God: A Response." Philosophy Research Archives, 17 February 1978.

Dore, Clement. "Do Theists Need to Solve the Problem of Evil?" Religious Studies 12 (1976): 383-89.

_______ , "Ethical Supernaturalism and the Problem of Evil." Religious Studies 8 (1972): 97-113.

Flew, Antony. "Divine Omnipotence and Human Freedom." In New Essays in Philosophical Theology, edited by Antony Flew and Alasdair Maclntyre, pp. 144-69. New York: Macmillan, 1964.

Hoitenga, Dewey, Jr. "Logic and the Problem of Evil." American Philosophical Quarterly 4 (1967): 114-26.

Kane, G. Stanley. "The Failure of Soul-Making Theodicy." International Journal for Philosophy of Religion 6 (1975): 1-22.

_______ , "The Free-Will Defense Defended." New Scholasticism 50 (1976): 435-46.

Kohak, Erazim. "The Person in a Personal World: An Inquiry into the Metaphysical Significance of the Tragic Sense of Life." Independent Journal of Philosophy 1(1977): 51-64.

LaCroix, Richard R. "Unjustified Evil and God's Choice." Sophia 13 (1974): 20-28.

Mackie, J. L. "Evil and Omnipotence." Mind 64 (1955): 200-12.

Martin, Michael. "Is Evil Evidence Against the Existence of God?" Mind 87 (1978): 429-32.

Pargetter, Robert. "Evil as Evidence Against the Existence of God." Mind 85 (1976): 242-45.

Peterson, Michael L. "Christian Theism and the Problem of Evil." Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 21(1978): 35-46.

_______ , "Evil and Inconsistency." Sophia 18 (1979): 20-27.

"God and Evil: Problems of Consistency and Gratuity." Journal of Value Inquiry 13(1979): 305-13.

Pike, Nelson. "God and Evil: A Reconsideration." Ethics 68 (1958):
116-24.

_______ ,"Plantinga on the Free Will Defense: A Reply." Journal of Philosophy 63 (1966): 93- 104.

Plantinga, Alvin. "Pike and Possible Persons." Journal of Philosophy 63 (1966): 104-08.

_______ , "The Probabilistic Argument from Evil." Philosophical Studies 35 (1979): 1-53.

Reichenbach, Bruce. "Must God Create the Best Possible World?" International Philosophical Quarterly 19 (1979): 203-12.

"Natural Evils and Natural Laws: A Theodicy for Natural Evils." International Philosophical Quarterly 16 (1976): 179-96.

Salmon, Wesley. "Religion and Science: A New Look at Hume's Dialogues", Philosophical Studies 33 (1978): 143-76.

Smart, Ninian. "Omnipotence, Evil and Supermen." Philosophy 36 (1961): 188-95.

Yandell, Keith. "A Premature Farewell to Theism (A Reply to Roland Pucetti)." Religious Studies 5 (1969): 25 1-55.

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