(....)
"We must face a sobering fact: the history of our planet is a history stuffed with undeserved, horrific evil and suffering.
2. TWO PROBLEMS
Evil and suffering is thought to pose a problem for Christians or, more generally, for theists, those who believe in a God who is at once all-powerful or almighty, all-knowing and perfectly good. What sort of problem is it? As it turns out, there are two problems, not one.
2.1 The practical problem of evil and the theoretical problem of evil
When we or our loved ones suffer horribly, we may not understand why God permits it; we may see no good it serves; we may be unable to make any sense of it. "This can be deeply perplexing," writes Plantinga, "and deeply disturbing. It can lead a believer to take towards God an attitude he himself deplores; it can tempt him to be angry with God, to mistrust God, to adopt an attitude of bitterness and rebellion."
In the grip of such rage, we might raise our fists toward heaven and curse Him; alternatively, we might repress our feelings, become forlorn, and eventually give in to despair.
A completely different stance toward evil and suffering, however, merely considers whether it is evidence that there is no God, or evidence that theistic belief is unwarranted, irrational, unreasonable, dubious or otherwise intellectually suspect.
We have here two complex mixes of attitudes and feelings, and two corresponding problems.
In the first case, the problem is how to maintain or restore a relationship with God in the face of suffering and tragedy while being true to ourselves and completely open and honest with Him about how we feel. In the second case, however, the problem is to figure out whether evil and suffering is good reason to believe that the theistic God does not exist. In the first case, our relationship with God is strained; in the second, we want to know whether a certain sort of argument succeeds. The first is best conducted with the aid of a discerning pastor, priest or mentor, on one's knees; the second requires the help of those trained to evaluate evidence and arguments, pen in hand and lots of paper nearby. The first is an intensely practical problem; the second is "merely"--as they say--theoretical.
Note two facts about these two problems. First, although we can separate them in the abstract, they typically come together in our experience. For example, reflecting on an impressively powerful argument from evil, I may begin to suspect that there is no God after all; my doubt may turn to fear or a sense of enstrangement from God; consequently, I might become angry or forlorn. On the other hand, it is relatively easy--almost natural--for a believer to move from experienced suffering to outright disbelief. Angry at God for allowing me or my loved ones to suffer, I might lash out at Him, perhaps subconsciously; and what better way to do that than to refuse Him His due and to demand that He play by my rules, rules that make good sense, not just to me but to all fair-minded people. In this frame of mind, I might put God on trial for negligence and gross incompetence, and there, in the courtroom of my inner self, marshall the evidence against Him. If I leave matters here--internally rehearsing my case against God, week after week, month after month--it may not be long before I wake up one morning to find the verdict delivered: what was once anger, pain and fear is now cool, calculated disbelief.
Nevertheless--and this is the second important fact--although the theoretical and practical problems of evil come together in our experience, we must recognize that they are distinct problems and, consequently, that a solution to one might not be a solution to the other. The sorts of things we need to do to deal with the practical problem might not be relevant to solving the theoretical problem; conversely, the sorts of things we need to do to deal with the theoretical problem might not be relevant to solving the practical problem.
2.2 The importance of distinguishing the two problems
Now, why have I distinguished the practical and theoretical problems of evil and cautioned against our expecting a solution to the one to be a solution to the other? For two reasons. First, because in what follows I will focus on the theoretical problem, not the practical problem, and second (and more importantly), what I have to say about the theoretical problem is not intended to help with the practical problem--thus, even if what I have to say below fails on that score, that is no strike against it.
No doubt many readers will be dismayed by my choice of focus. I am in sympathy with them. After all, evil and suffering are too real to be dealt with on a merely theoretical level. We need practical advice and wisdom, not speculative hypotheses; we need something we can apply to our lives, something we can use, something to nourish the heart and soul, not the head. In short, we don't need a bunch of "philosophical twaddle" about God and evil, as the pastor at my mother's church put it recently.
There is an important truth lurking here; and some equally important confusions. First, the important truth. For many of us, there are times when even if we understood completely why evil and suffering are not evidence against the existence of God, it would not matter to us. Many of us are faced with the detioration of our bodies and minds; we are afraid and in constant, sometimes excruciating, pain; we see our loved ones crushed by cruelty or Nature's firm hand. We need solace, not syllogisms. To be offered philosophical speculation in times like these is to be offered a cold stone when only warm bread will do. So far, so good. Many people, however, go on to infer from this important truth that it is a waste of time to examine carefully whether evil is evidence against theism and to learn exactly why it is not. They infer that a deep understanding of the complexities involved in solving the theoretical problem is irrelevant to what they and others really need.
The premise here is true: for many people, there are times when "philosophical twaddle" about God and evil cannot meet their needs. But it does not follow that there is no time when such philosophical reflection would greatly benefit them; moreover, even if some people would gain nothing from such reflection, it doesn't follow that nobody would. There are two points to underscore here. First, while for many of us there are times in our lives when "philosophical twaddle" about God and evil seems nothing more than a bunch of irrelevant nonsense, for most reflective people there will come a time when almost nothing else will be more important. And, second, even if we ourselves will never benefit from knowing exactly how to solve the theoretical problem of evil, there may well be other people who will, perhaps even people we will meet.
(...)
3. "WHY DOES GOD PERMIT EVIL AND SUFERING?"
Some people readily answer such questions. They might say, for example: "God permits evil because if He didn't, we'd have no freedom; we'd be just like robots. And the same goes for the children in Oklahoma City and your father. If God had prevented the bombing, the freedom of Timothy McVeigh would have been jeopardized; and if God had prevented your father's suffering, even just a little, then he would not have been free to respond to it virtuously." Others, including devout Christians, deem such answers "tepid, shallow, and ultimately frivolous," as Plantinga puts it. We'll delve into these matters shortly; for now I want to make a different point.
Questions about why God permits evil and suffering--when asked in a rhetorical "so there!" tone--disguise arguments. For example, the pointed questions in the paragraph before last disguise the argument that since you can't say why God would permit evil in general or the Oklahoma City bombing or my father’s painful, untimely death, there is no reason. This presupposes that you would be in a position to identify reasons that would justify God, if there were any. But isn't it perfectly sensible to ask why we should assume that? By disguising his argument in the form of a question, the questioner may be trying to evade his responsibility to defend his answer to our question. So, when people rhetorically ask you, "Why does God permit evil?," bring the disguised argument and its assumptions into broad daylight and assess them, as we shall in section 6 below.
4. THE BASIC ARGUMENT FROM EVIL
A terminological note: the word "evil" can be used in many ways. An old-fashioned way uses it to refer to wickedness--"evil", strictly so called--and suffering and pain and anything else bad that happens. This use of the word has a venerable history; discussions of the theoretical problem of evil throughout history use the word "evil" in this way. In what follows, however, I will use it to refer specifically to undeserved, intense suffering and pain as well as horrific wickedness. I’m not interested here in suffering that people deserve, or in bumps and bruises or white lies and mild temper tantrums. I will focus on the stuff that turns our stomachs.
My thesis is simple: every argument from evil fails. Unfortunately, I haven't the space to consider every argument, so I will restrict myself to some popular ones and offer objections that will apply to others. I begin with the most basic argument.
The most straightforward way to put the argument from evil is like this:
1. If God exists, then there is no evil.
2. There is evil.
3. So, God does not exist. (from 1 & 2)
3 follows from 1 and 2, and 2 is surely true. That leaves premise 1.
Is it true?
J.L. Mackie famously argued for premise 1 like this:
1a. A perfectly good being always prevents evil as far as he can.
1b. An omnipotent and omniscient being can do anything possible.
1c. So, if a perfectly good, omnipotent and omniscient being exists, he prevents evil completely. (from 1a & 1b)
1d. If God exists, then He is perfectly good, omnipotent and omniscient.
1e. So, if God exists, He prevents evil completely. (from 1c & 1d)
It follows from 1e that if God exists, then there is no evil--which is premise 1 of the basic argument.
Is Mackie’s argument a good argument? That depends on whether all the premises are true.
Are they?
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