The Problem of Evil - Common Sense Atheism

The Problem of Evil - Common Sense Atheism The Problem of Evil - Common Sense Atheism

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The Local Argument from Evil 107 out, precisely where that cutoff point lies. So perhaps there is someone, Timothy Williamson, perhaps, who would say that there is and has to be a smallest number of raindrops that could have fallen on France during the twentieth century consistently with France’s having been a fertile country during that century. Well, if there is such a person, that person is wrong. I want to point out, however, that any theist who accepts this thesis has, from his own point of view, a very simple way to answer the local argument from evil: ‘‘There is a smallest number of horrors such that the real existence of horrors in that number is consistent with the openness of human beings to the idea that human life is horrible and that no human efforts will ever alter this fact. And, since God is good, the horrors that actually exist—past, present, and future—are of just that number. If, therefore, the Mutilation had not happened, and if all else had been much the same, human beings wouldn’t have been open to the idea that human life is horrible and that no human efforts would ever alter this fact. The first premise of the local argument is therefore false. You may find this counterfactual hard to believe, but I don’t. After all, I believe that there is a smallest number of raindrops such that raindrops in that number falling on France in the twentieth century is consistent with the twentieth-century fertility of France, and I therefore believe that it is possible (although immensely improbable: it is immensely improbable that the number of raindrops that fell on France in the twentieth century is ‘right at the cutoff point’) that every twentieth-century French raindrop is such that, if it hadn’t fallen on France in the twentieth century, France would not have been a fertile country in the twentieth century. If I can believe that, Icaneasily enough believe that if the Mutilation hadn’t occurred, human beings wouldn’t have been open to the idea that human life is horrible and that no human efforts would ever alter this fact. Here is a simple analogy of proportion: a given horror is to the openness of human beings to the idea that human life is horrible and that no human efforts will ever alter this fact as a given raindrop is to the fertility of France.’’ Here ends the promised simple reply to the local argument from evil. Having presented this reply, let us leave to their own devices those philosophers who say that the boundaries which natural language draws are always sharp, that vagueness does not exist, that apparent cases of vagueness are in reality cases in which one is ignorant of where some of the sharp boundaries that one’s language has drawn lie. Let us leave them and return to the bright world of good sense.

108 The Local Argument from Evil In the bright world of good sense, this is why God did not prevent the Mutilation—insofar as there is a ‘‘why’’. He had to draw an arbitrary line, and he drew it. And that’s all there is to be said. This, of course, is cold comfort to the victim. Or, since we are merely telling a story, it would be better to say: if this story were true, and known to be true, knowing its truth would be cold comfort to the victim. But the purpose of the story is not to comfort anyone. It is not to give an example of a possible story that would comfort anyone if it were true and that person knew it to be true. If a child dies on the operating table in what was supposed to be a routine operation and a board of medical inquiry finds that the death was due to some factor that the surgeon could not have anticipated and that the surgeon was not at fault, that finding will be of no comfort to the child’s parents. But it is not the purpose of a board of medical inquiry to comfort anyone; the purpose of a board of medical inquiry is, by examining the facts of the matter, to determine whether anyone was at fault. And it is not my purpose in offering a defense to provide even hypothetical comfort to anyone. It is to determine whether the existence of horrors entails that God is at fault—or, rather, since by definition God is never at fault, to determine whether an omnipotent and omniscient creator of a world that contained horrors would necessarily be at fault. It is perhaps important to point out that we might easily find ourselves in a moral situation like God’s moral situation according to the expanded free-will defense, a situation in which we must draw an arbitrary line and allow some bad thing to happen when we could have prevented it, and in which, moreover, no good whatever comes of our allowing it to happen. In fact, we do find ourselves in this situation. In a welfare state, for example, we use taxation to divert money from its primary economic role in order to spend it to prevent or alleviate various social evils. And how much money, what proportion of the gross national product, shall we—that is, the state—divert for this purpose? Well, not none of it and not all of it (enforcing a tax rate of 100 percent on all earned income and all profits would be the same as not having a money economy at all). And where we draw the line is an arbitrary matter. However much we spend on social services, we shall always be able to find some person or family who would be saved from misery if the state spent (in the right way) a mere £1,000 more than it in fact plans to spend. And the state can always find another £1,000, and can find it without damaging the economy or doing any other sort of harm. But this example takes us

108 <strong>The</strong> Local Argument from <strong>Evil</strong><br />

In the bright world <strong>of</strong> good sense, this is why God did not prevent the<br />

Mutilation—ins<strong>of</strong>ar as there is a ‘‘why’’. He had to draw an arbitrary<br />

line, and he drew it. And that’s all there is to be said. This, <strong>of</strong> course,<br />

is cold comfort to the victim. Or, since we are merely telling a story,<br />

it would be better to say: if this story were true, and known to be<br />

true, knowing its truth would be cold comfort to the victim. But the<br />

purpose <strong>of</strong> the story is not to comfort anyone. It is not to give an<br />

example <strong>of</strong> a possible story that would comfort anyone if it were true<br />

and that person knew it to be true. If a child dies on the operating<br />

table in what was supposed to be a routine operation and a board <strong>of</strong><br />

medical inquiry finds that the death was due to some factor that the<br />

surgeon could not have anticipated and that the surgeon was not at<br />

fault, that finding will be <strong>of</strong> no comfort to the child’s parents. But it<br />

is not the purpose <strong>of</strong> a board <strong>of</strong> medical inquiry to comfort anyone;<br />

the purpose <strong>of</strong> a board <strong>of</strong> medical inquiry is, by examining the facts <strong>of</strong><br />

the matter, to determine whether anyone was at fault. And it is not my<br />

purpose in <strong>of</strong>fering a defense to provide even hypothetical comfort to<br />

anyone. It is to determine whether the existence <strong>of</strong> horrors entails that<br />

God is at fault—or, rather, since by definition God is never at fault, to<br />

determine whether an omnipotent and omniscient creator <strong>of</strong> a world<br />

that contained horrors would necessarily be at fault.<br />

It is perhaps important to point out that we might easily find ourselves<br />

in a moral situation like God’s moral situation according to the expanded<br />

free-will defense, a situation in which we must draw an arbitrary line<br />

and allow some bad thing to happen when we could have prevented it,<br />

and in which, moreover, no good whatever comes <strong>of</strong> our allowing it to<br />

happen. In fact, we do find ourselves in this situation. In a welfare state,<br />

for example, we use taxation to divert money from its primary economic<br />

role in order to spend it to prevent or alleviate various social evils. And<br />

how much money, what proportion <strong>of</strong> the gross national product, shall<br />

we—that is, the state—divert for this purpose? Well, not none <strong>of</strong> it and<br />

not all <strong>of</strong> it (enforcing a tax rate <strong>of</strong> 100 percent on all earned income<br />

and all pr<strong>of</strong>its would be the same as not having a money economy at<br />

all). And where we draw the line is an arbitrary matter. However much<br />

we spend on social services, we shall always be able to find some person<br />

or family who would be saved from misery if the state spent (in the<br />

right way) a mere £1,000 more than it in fact plans to spend. And the<br />

state can always find another £1,000, and can find it without damaging<br />

the economy or doing any other sort <strong>of</strong> harm. But this example takes us

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