The Cosmological Argument: A Reassessment

THE COSMOLOOICAL ARGUMENT A Reassessment 6 THE COSMOLOGICAL ARGUMENT A Reassessment By BRUCE R. REICHENBACH, Ph.D. Ch...

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THE COSMOLOOICAL ARGUMENT A Reassessment 6

THE COSMOLOGICAL ARGUMENT A Reassessment By

BRUCE R. REICHENBACH, Ph.D. Chairman, Department of Philosophy Augsburg College Minneapolis, Minnesota

CHARLES C THOMAS • P U B L I S H E R Springfield • Illinois • U.S.A.

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PREFACE ITHIN THE PAST

decade or so there has been a gradual awak-

ening of interest in philosophical theology in general and in the theistic arguments in particular. One of the first indications of this was the response which the publication of Flew and Maclntyre's collection, New Essays in Philosophical Theology, evoked. A major result of this volume was to bring to the attention of the philosophical world questions which had long been passed off as meaningless. It pointed to the fact that we can once again critically and cautiously investigate an area of philosophy which for half a century or more was deemed barren. It is true that the majority of articles contained therein were largely negative in the judgment which they passed on a variety of issues, including the truth and validity of the theistic arguments. And considering the philosophical background out of which this volume came, this is not surprising. But the lasting value and importance of this volume are not so much the conclusions arrived at, but rather the indication of a new direction in philosophical theology which it manifests; the endeavor to do philosophical theology is again made respectable. In the developments which have succeeded the publication of this volume, it was the ontological argument which initially stimulated the greatest interest and debate. The criticisms which Kant raised had long been accepted by the overwhelming majority of philosophers as ultimately telling against Anselm's argument. But Norman Malcolm's reformulation (or discovery of a second argument in Anselm) ignited a flurry of response, a reaction which continues to the present. Interest was again sparked in one of the oldest theses of natural theology. More recently, interest has also been generated in the cosmological argument. Has the argument been properly understood? Are the traditional criticisms really damaging to the argument? Can the argument be reformulated in order to overcome certain weaknesses which have been discerned? These are some of the vii

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The Cosmological Argument

questions which have been raised in recent books and philosophical journals. Here again, what is important, to me at least, is not so much the conclusions which these writers come to (though they in no wise can be passed over lightly), as their willingness to take another hard look at the cosmological argument, something which would have been generally considered unthinkable not so long ago. Theirs is an unmistakable signal that it is time to think through the multifarious and difficult issues which surround the cosmological argument. It is this challenge to analyze the positions which the cosmological argument propounds and presupposes which we have undertaken to meet. The time has arrived for a reassessment of both the truth and validity of what is to me the most interesting and exciting of the theistic arguments. Such a reassessment, such an investigation, is precisely the task of this book. It will be the reevaluation of both the argument itself and the criticisms which have been raised against it, both historically and in contemporary philosophy, which will occupy our attention throughout. Our program will be to establish in the beginning, what initially appears to be a plausible cosmological argument, while leaving to succeeding chapters the task of defending this against its critics. In the first chapter we will endeavor to set forth arguments which fully support the various steps to be found in our cosmological argument. Accordingly, the complete development of what we believe to be a true and valid cosmological argument will be given here. Out of this presentation will arise the fact of the argument's basic reliance on the principles of causation and sufficient reason. The second, third, and fourth chapters will be devoted to a detailed defense of the truth and necessity of both principles. The final chapters will consider the various criticisms which have been or are now raised against the argument. We will devote our attention to dealing with each in detail. Consequently, if we can establish a plausible cosmological argument, and if we can defend this initial argument against the criticisms which usually have been thought to invalidate it, then we have given new life to an argument which traditionally has had an important place in philosophical theology.

Preface

IX

The era is past when all metaphysical statements or arguments can simply be dismissed as silly or senseless, since they do not meet a preestablished criterion of verifiability. Metaphysical utterances can be meaningful when placed in an appropriate context. In this, hopefully, we have shown the way. We have presented a context in which we can begin to discourse; we are pointing to a being whose very existence provides the core of such a context.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS A HOUGH THERE BE one author of a book, the ideas contained in that writing have many fathers. Grateful acknowledgment must be made to Professor Henry Veatch of Northwestern University, who made many concrete suggestions and timely criticisms of the original manuscript. Many of the ideas were hammered out in long discussions with Professor Kenneth Strike of the University of Wisconsin. His probing analyses and questions helped forge clearer arguments. Finally, I am grateful to the editors of The Monist for their kind permission to incorporate into Chapter 6 my article entitled "Divine Necessity and the Cosmological Argument."* B. R. R. •Reprinted from The Monist (Vol. 54, No. 3, 1970), LaSalle, Illinois, with permission of the publisher.

xi

CONTENTS Page

Preface Acknowledgments

vii xi

Chapter 1. A COSMOLOGICAL ARGUMENT

3

The Cosmological Argument as an Argument Form The Argument Conclusion Notes 2. CAUSATION

4 5 19 20 23

Causation as Constant Conjunction Causation as a Covering Law Causation as Production The Cause as the Necessary and Sufficient Conditions Notes 3. T H E PRINCIPLES OF CAUSATION AND SUFFICIENT REASON . . . .

Relationship Between the Two Principles Hume's Critique of the Causal Principle The Necessity of the Causal Principle The Necessity of the Principle of Sufficient Reason Conclusion Notes

25 33 39 47 49 51

53 56 60 67 70 72

4. CAN PROPOSITIONS BE INFORMATIVE AND NECESSARY SIMULTANEOUSLY?

73

Logical Necessity The Synthetic A Priori Real Necessity Notes

74 85 87 91 xiii

xiv

The Cosmological

Argument

5. CAUSATION AND T H E TOTALITY OF C O N T I N G E N T B E I N G S

94

Russell's Objection is Irrelevant to O u r Cosmological Argument

95

T h e Totality of Contingent Beings Must Itself Be Contingent T h e Fallacy of Composition

97 99

A Framework for "Causation" As Applied to the Totality . . . .

103

Conclusion

105

6. T H E PROBLEM OF N E C E S S I T Y IN T H E C O N C L U S I O N

107

T w o Occurrences of "Necessary"

109

Logical Necessity

112

Conditional Necessity

114

"Necessary" As Predicated of Beings

117

Conclusion

120

Notes

121

7. I s T H E COSMOLOGICAL A R G U M E N T D E P E N D E N T U P O N T H E ONTOLOGICAL A R G U M E N T ?

Kant's Analysis of the Argument

124

Conclusion

135

Notes

135

8. T H E NECESSARY BEING AND G O D

Index

123

137

T h e Material Universe and the Necessary Being

138

Identification is Extrinsic to the Argument

140

Some Programmatic Suggestions

141

Argument and Belief

144

Notes

146 149

THE COSMOLOGICAL ARGUMENT A Reassessment

Chapter 1

A COSMOLOGICAL ARGUMENT THE COSMOLOGICAL ARGUMENT is an ancient and venerable piece of human reasoning. Some have traced its beginnings to Plato; most assuredly it is found in The Philosopher, Aristotle. The locus classicus of the argument, however, is to be found in the Angelic Doctor, St. Thomas Aquinas. Throughout the next five or six centuries there were many proponents—including Scotus, Ockham, Leibniz, and Clarke—and opponents, the most famous being Hume and Kant. Indeed, the philosophical tandem of Hume and Kant seemed to have successfully disposed of what at one time appeared to be canonic truth. Thus, in the period of time following Kant, it was widely accepted in philosophical circles that the theistic arguments were dead issues, interesting but philosophically useless relics of the past. But times and ideas change, and through this change reappear the issues considered of old. Old ideas have a way of becoming relevant again: a new framework, a new dress, new light on the problem, a haunting feeling that truth might be hidden there. Whatever the reason, modern philosophy has taken a new interest in this venerable argument. This renewed interest in the traditional theistic arguments makes it imperative that first of all we begin to collate many of the recent philosophical contributions which have a definite bearing on the theistic arguments, and in particular, on the cosmological argument. Appearing in recent books and philosophical journals have been analyses of problems which impinge on the question of the truth and validity of the cosmological argument. These analyses in many instances have provided, if not definitive solutions to traditional problems, at least hints which might be fruitfully developed in the direction of a solution to the problems which have consistently plagued 3

4


the cosmological argument. It is imperative, therefore, that we assemble this new data into a coherent whole and show its application to the argument. Secondly, I believe that it is time that the cosmological argument be analyzed in fresh and contemporary terms and that precise arguments be given for the various steps involved in the argument. Too often the admittedly skeletal arguments given by St. Thomas Aquinas appear as the primary representative of the proposed argument. Too seldom have positive contemporary developments and alterations of the basic argument appeared in those selections of writings which purport to give both sides of the issues surrounding the theistic arguments. What results is a presentation of a theistic argument which appears inherently weak and horrifyingly outmoded, a relic of the thirteenth century. Thus, it is incumbent upon us to prepare, by an in-depth study of the cosmological argument, a viable alternative to the usual fare. This analysis must involve not a mere sketch of some general pattern or argument form, not a brief recollection and restatement of some past sketches, but a rigorous development, as best we can, of a detailed and specific cosmological argument. To make the strongest possible case we must develop an argument which, at least initially, appears to be true and valid. New and old ideas must be brought together; they must be molded into a coherent, defensible argument. As such we will attempt to approach the cosmological argument in our own way. Hopefully, by starting out afresh, though in no way losing sight of our historical heritage of past cosmological arguments, we can thoughtfully and positively develop a revised and philosophically important verison of the argument.

THE COSMOLOGICAL ARGUMENT AS AN ARGUMENT FORM The cosmological argument, taken in its larger context, is not so much a particular argument as an argument type. That is, the cosmological argument is most properly viewed as a general pattern of argumentation with several different possible substitutions for the first factual premise or step. That this is the case historically can be observed in the formulations of St.

A Cosmological Argument

5

Thomas Aquinas. His first three Ways, which are usually designated as cosmological arguments, though they argue from different premises (from motion, from causation, and from contingency), invoke the same general argument form.1 In each case what is argued is different, though the general form they follow and the point they endeavor to establish is the same. What I want to do in this chapter is to evoke what I believe is this general argument form, while at the same time defending a particular instance of the form as true and valid. Obviously, validation of a particular instance of the pattern will not validate the pattern itself. But my intention is not to validate this general pattern; rather, it is to make plausible one particular instance of the cosmological argument. Accordingly, my concern with the general pattern will be only incidental, namely, as it provides a framework within which a cogent and convincing argument can be presented. The cosmological argument, as I see it, can be analyzed into six distinct but logically related steps. This analysis of the argument into distinguishable steps or stages presents two advantages. First, it makes clear the transitions present in the argument and what arguments are necessary in order to support them. And secondly, it clarifies the stage of the argument against which any particular objection may be raised, thus enabling us to isolate the factor or factors involved in the objection. The value of this will be to eliminate irrelevant issues, to enable us to clearly focus on the core of any proposed difficulty. Let us, then, in terms of this general pattern, develop a particular cosmological argument, an argument which will hopefully appear both true and valid. THE ARGUMENT The cosmological argument commences with an appeal to the world of fact. Its first premise or step is the following existential assertion: (Sx) A contingent being exists. That is, there exists in the real world a being which, if it exists, could conceivably not have existed. At first it might seem strange to apply the word "contin-

6


gent" to beings. We are accustomed to predicating "contingent" solely of propositions; it strains no credibility to say that a proposition is contingent, that its opposite is logically possible. But what can we possibly mean when we say that a being is contingent? Is it not impossible to apply such modal terms as "contingent" and "necessary" to beings or things? Do not these terms become meaningless when so applied? To answer this objection, we must first determine what the word "contingent" means. To be contingent is to be such that it could have been other than it is. Of what, then, can we predicate this adjective? For one, we can predicate it of propositions. A proposition p is contingent if both p and not-p are possible, either logically (in that neither p nor not-p contradict the subject) or conditionally (in that neither p nor not-p contradicts a certain set of given conditions). For example, "the grass is short" is a logically contingent propostion, for it is logically possible for grass to be long as well as short. Again, "roses are red" is a logically contingent proposition, for it is possible for roses to be of a color other than red. Thus, "contingent" can be meaningfully predicated of propositions. One can also predicate "contingent" of events; an event is contingent if it either may or may not happen. The event "raining on Tuesday" is contingent, for on any given Tuesday it may either rain or not rain. Or again, "meeting Mark in the lounge" is a contingent event, for at any time I may either meet or fail to meet Mark there. Thus, the word "contingent" can be meaningfully predicated of events. It can likewise be meaningfully predicated of beings. For a being to be contingent means that it is a being which, at any time T, either may or may not exist. Though it now exists, its nonexistence was as possible as its existence; there was no necescity, logical or real, that it must now exist. It could have merely ceased to exist in the preceding moment. Likewise, there is no necessity that it must exist at the next moment; its nonexistence at the next moment is as conceivable as is existence, for at any time it could pass out of existence. Thus, for a being to be a contingent being means that, if this being exists, it could just as well not have existed.


7

Several points should be made clear here. First, we are not saying that the nonexistence of an object which now exists is in the future as likely or as probable as its existence. Contingency is not a doctrine about the probability or improbability of the instantiation of a particular thing. Rather, it is merely the claim that the existence of an object in the past does not necessitate its existence in the future. Secondly, this is not to say that that which now is really might not be, that we cannot be sure it exists. It is not a principle of Cartesian doubt. Contingency as applied to existence is not a statement about some certainty or uncertainty that we have with respect to knowing whether an object exists; it is not reporting an epistemological state of affairs. Rather, it is telling us something about the ontology of the existent or future existent; it is informing us about the being itself, namely, that there is no logical or real necessity that it exist now or in the future; its nonexistence is as conceivable as its existence. Thus, in light of the above, it seems quite evident that "contingent," as applied to beings, is quite meaningful. Those who, in spite of this, still tenaciously argue that this word can only be applied to propositions and not to beings are being nothing less than pedantic, especially in light of the fact that throughout the history of philosophy "contingent" has been consistently applied to beings as well as to propositions. But granted that the word "contingent" can be meaningfully applied to beings as well as to propositions, are there such beings in existence? That there are contingent beings seems quite obvious. My existence, for one, is contingent; my being is such that at no time does it necessitate its own existence. Even the fact that I existed in the past provides no guarantee that I must exist now. I could, at this moment, just as well not have existed as existed. And the same holds true with respect to the future: at the next moment I could just as well not exist as exist. I am not guaranteed any future existence; my instantaneous death at the next moment is one of the possibilities open to me. Thus, I at least am contingent. And, since there is such a being, S1; as a true datum of experience, grounds the argument in the world of facts.

8


The obvious result of this factual grounding is to distinguish this argument from any a priori argument such as, for example, the ontological argument. According to the latter, the fact that we are capable of forming in our intellect the concept of a being than which nothing greater can be conceived is sufficient to allow, indeed forces us to affirm, the existence in reality of such a being, a being which possesses certain characteristics, among which are necessary existence and a greatness and perfection surpassing that of any empirically known being—in short, an ens realissimum. Thus, any a priori argument appeals solely to the conceptual world, and from this basis argues to the existence of a particular kind of being which inhabits the real world. In contrast, the cosmological argument seeks to distinguish itself from such a priori reasoning by taking as its initial premise the fact that something exists. It commences not with an a priori concept, but with an existential statement about the world. Thus, the argument is not a priori, but a posteriori; it argues from the nature of the perceived world, from the world of real existence, to the world of real existence. This initial, factual, existential premise, then, makes invalid, at least initially, any criticism that the cosmological argument has argued from concept to reality. The cosmological argument continues by arguing that this being, as a contingent being, must be caused either by itself or by another. But since to cause itself results in an impossibility, we have the following: (S 2 ) This contingent being depends on something else for its existence. This proposition involves two contentions. First, the argument claims that to be a contingent being implies that one is caused. Every contingent being must have a cause of its existence, a cause which is either itself or another being. And secondly, the argument claims that this being cannot be the cause of its own existence. What reasons do we have for thinking that these two propositions are true? Taking the latter first, since it is perhaps the least controversial, we might argue that if a contingent being is caused,


9

it must be caused either by itself or by another; there is no third alternative. But obviously it could not cause itself to exist, for in order to bring itself into existence, it must already be such that it can perform this act of creating itself. Consequently, it would precede itself in existence, if not temporally, at least logically. But this is impossible. Something cannot precede itself in existence; something cannot logically be before it is. What is nothing or nonexistent causes nothing. Thus, since something cannot cause itself to exist, it must be caused by something other than itself. The existent which is contingent is therefore dependent on something outside itself for its existence. But this only sets in greater relief the first issue, namely, need a contingent being be caused at all? Granted that if it is caused, it must be caused by something other than itself, yet must every contingent being have a cause of its existence? Cannot a contingent being exist uncaused? Since in the third chapter we will be dealing in great detail with the argument which can be used to support the principle that every contingent being has a cause, it will suffice here to merely anticipate our later argument. Our argument in that chapter will attempt to show that for a being to be contingent in and of itself entails that it must be caused. To be such that one either could or could not exist means that one's existence is not intrinsically a part of one's own nature. That is, to be a contingent being implies that one's act of existence is not essential, but accidental, to one's nature. If it were essential to its nature, it would be such that, if it exists, it could not not-exist. Moreover, that which is accidental is dependent upon something. If it were not dependent but independent, it would no longer be an accident, but a substance. Thus, all contingent beings are dependent upon something for their act of existence, for their instantiation. They are therefore caused by that on which they depend, for to be dependent upon something is to be caused by it. Thus for a being to be contingent implies that it is caused; the fact of its being caused is derived from the very fact of its contingency. Thus, any contingent being, by the very nature of its being contingent, must be caused, and indeed caused by another being. To summarize, the cosmological argument contends that

10


there exists a contingent being, and that this being, as contingent, not only must be caused, but must be caused by something other than itself. Since we have in S2 an existing being which is dependent on some being outside itself to supply the reason for its existence, we must now search for that which will enable us to account for the existence of this being, which will supply the sufficient reason for this being. It is in this regard that step three poses the following dichotomy: (5 3 ) That which causes (provides the sufficient reason for) the existence of any contingent being must be either (3) another contingent being, or (4) a noncontingent (necessary) being. If what we have said above about contingent beings is correct, these two possibihties are exhaustive; there is no tertium quid between the appeal to another contingent being and/or the appeal to a non-contingent being. However, if we appeal to the former, we really have an infinite series of contingent beings, for each contingent being to which we appeal must itself require a sufficient reason for its existence (from Sx and S2) and so on to infinity. Thus what results is an alternative between an appeal to an infinite series of contingent beings and an appeal to a non-contingent or necessary being, in order to explain the existence of any contingent being. Step three can therefore be reformulated thus: (5 4 ) That which causes (provides the sufficient reason for) the existence of any contingent being must be either (5) an infinite series of contingent beings, or (4) a non-contingent (necessary) being. The question which now arises is which of these will provide the sufficient reason for the existence of any contingent being. Will an infinite series suffice to account for the being of S1} or must we appeal to the activity of a necessary being? The argument of the fifth step contends that a series of contingent beings or explanations, even if it be infinite, will never yield a sufficient reason for the existence of any contingent being.2 Thus, we have:


11

(SB) An infinite series of contingent beings is incapable of providing a sufficient reason for the existence of any being. Since S5 is by no means intuitively obvious, what arguments can be given in support of its claim? How can we show that S5 is true? Before we can present our argument, we must first of all clarify exactly what we mean here by an infinite series. Only after we clearly understand the nature of the series (5) in S4 can we show it is incapable of yielding a sufficient reason for the being in Si. What do we mean in S4 and S5 by "an infinite series"? According to Aristotle, the infinite has two kinds of existence. The infinite either exists actually (in the sense that it now "fully is"3) or potentially.4 Which kind of infinite are we here concerned with? Is the infinite causal series actual or potential? Obviously the infinite series of contingent beings in S4 is not potentially infinite. This can be seen from the fact that in the series the contingent being which is the cause of another contingent being is not temporally prior to it. Rather, the cause and effect are simultaneous. And so it is with every cause and effect in the series. As such, the entire series under consideration is ordered apart from any consideration of time. How is this? First, with respect to each individual cause and effect, as we will argue in detail in the next chapter, causation does not involve the often deemed essential characteristic of temporal priority. Indeed, the cause cannot be temporally prior to the effect at the moment of actual causation, for if there were a temporal lapse between the causing by the cause and the effecting of the effect, the cause could never move the effect. This is, of course, not to say that the cause might not have been in existence or even in motion prior to the effect; indeed, such might or might not have been the case. However, it is to say that the cause, when it was performing the causal activity, could not have been temporally prior to the effect. Let us suppose that the cause and effect were to occur at temporally disparate times. Then at the time at which the cause would be performing its causal activity, viz. at time Tu there would be yet no effect for it to cause, for the latter would

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have to commence only after the actual act of causation, viz. at Tt. And when the effect was being effected, viz. at time T2, there could be no cause there to cause or move it, for the latter would have to act at Tt. How, then, could the object which we designate the cause ever move the object we designate the effect? It obviously could not, for when the one acts, the other would not exist and hence could not be acted upon; and even before the one is effected, the other has ceased its causal activity. Hence, if temporal priority were a necessary condition of causation, causation could never occur. But causation does occur. Therefore the cause and effect must be simultaneous. The effect must occur at the same time as when the cause is doing the causing; there can be no temporal lag between the cause and effect in the span of time when causation is actually occurring. Take, for example, the situation in which the wind blows a leaf, causing it to flutter. The wind can be blowing all day, but until the leaf moves upon receiving one of its gusts, the wind is not a cause with respect to that leaf. Or take the example of a water skier. The tow boat can be moving away from the dock, pulling out the line. But until the skier is actually pulled off the dock and onto the lake the boat is not the cause with respect to the skier. But when the gust of wind does move the leaf and the outboard flings the skier into the water, then causation has occurred. But note that at that precise moment, the cause and effect are occurring simultaneously; there exists no temporal gap between them. As long as a time gap separates the wind and leaf or the boat and skier, no causation occurs (with respect to the effect in question). These examples clearly illustrate, I think, the contention that unless there be temporal simultaneity between cause and effect, there will be no causal efficacy. Moreover, not only is this the case with each individual cause -and effect, but all the causes in the series under consideration in S4 are likewise simultaneous with each other, such that the entire series may be considered apart from any considerations of time.5 The causes in the series are transitively related to each other. That is, each cause is the cause of sue-


13

ceeding effect only insofar as it itself is being caused. Each cause, as itself contingent, is causally dependent upon another immediate cause for its causal efficacy. If it were not so dependent, it in and of itself would be capable of providing the necessary and sufficient conditions, the sufficient reason, for both itself and its effect. But as such, it would no longer be a contingent being, but a necessary being—a being not needing any explanation for its existence, an uncaused cause. But the series is a series of contingent beings. Hence, each cause in the series is transitively related to the other causes, in that it is dependent for its immediate causal efficacy upon the immediate causal activity of the other members in the series. And since each cause is transitively related to the other causes, since each cause is the "bearer" of the causal action from the (logically) prior to causes to the subsequent effect, the entire series must take on the nontemporal character of the relation between each individual cause and effect. The entire infinite series, then, is a series in which each and every cause is simultaneous with each and every effect. The series must be considered, then, as being ordered apart from any consideration of time. Perhaps an example or two might serve to clarify our contention at this point. The arms move the hands, which in turn move the baseball bat, which in turn strikes the pitched ball. Here each of the intermediate causes—the hands and the bat—is a transitive cause; it conveys the causal activity or efficacy from the arms to the ball. Hence, the bat can strike the ball only insofar as it is moved by the arms via the hands; the hands and bat are incapable in and of themselves to hit the ball; they are moved by and simultaneous with the moving of the arms. Thus, here we have an example of a finite, transitively related causal series. Another example can be taken from cooking. The gas feeds the flame, which heats the pan, which in turn causes the water to boil. Here again we have a finite, transitively related series. The flame, heat, and pan are instrumental causes, dependent for their causal efficacy upon the continued flowing of the gas. They convey the energy of the gas to the water, making it boil. Moreover, in this latter case as in the first, simultaneity is involved. All elements, working together and at one

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time, are necessary to cause the water to boil; if the flame is lit before or after the gas has flowed, no heat will be generated. These two examples illustrate the kind of series which is transitively related. The objection might be raised, however, that this causal series is unreal. Since causation does occur in time and does manifest duration, this series cannot account for duration. Hence, this type of series, a transitively related series, really has no bearing on reality. Indeed, there could be no such series as the argument supposes, for causation does occupy time. The causal process is durational, but a transitively ordered series cannot account for duration. In order to reply to this, we must first distinguish between two types of causal sequences or series. The one type of series, about which we have been speaking, involves causes related in such a fashion that each cause is the cause of the succeeding effect only insofar as it itself is being caused. Each cause depends upon a prior cause precisely for its own act of causing. Or in other words, each contingent being is merely a necessary, but not a sufficient, condition for the effect to occur. As such, each cause is transitively related to the other causes in the series. In an analysis of this type of series, the temporal factor is not an important concern, for each cause is simultaneous with each and every other cause. However, this is not to say that causal duration is precluded. Indeed, the actual causal activity might be temporally extended over a long period of time; the causal efficacy need not be such that it lasts only an instant. What we are contending, however, is that no matter what the extent of its temporal duration, each and every cause in the entire series is simultaneous with each and every other cause. Thus, when we say it is ordered apart from any consideration of time, we do not mean that the series cannot occupy time. We only mean that temporal duration is not a relevant factor in an analysis of the series, since each cause in the entire series occurs (for x length of time) simultaneously. In the other type of series, the causes are related in such a way that preceding causes are responsible for their particular simultaneous effects, but are not directly involved (as necessary


15

conditions) in producing later effects. That is, they need not be present in order for the effect which they originally caused to itself cause something else. For example, my father need not be present for me to have a son. As such, the causes are related to each other intransitively; they are not the "bearers" of the action from one cause to another. In this type of series, the causal process is durational; it takes place over a span of time. However, in each particular causal action, the causes involved act simultaneously, such that within this intransitively ordered sequence a transitively ordered sequence still exists. Thus we have two kinds of sequences of causes, one ordered transitively, the other intransitively.6 Of these two, the first is clearly primary, for though the intransitive series at the same time necessarily involves the transitive sequence, the reverse does not follow. The reason that this is so is due to the nature of what it is to be a cause. Since the cause is the totality of conditions necessary and sufficient to produce an effect, and since all these conditions must be present simultaneously or else the effect will not occur, every causal sequence will necessarily involve a transitive sequence, for this is the very nature of causation. Thus, one could conclude that the transitive series is the primary usage of "causal series," whereas the intransitive series is a derivative usage. To return to the objection, both causal series have a bearing on reality. That the transitively ordered series is real stems from the very nature of causation. In order for any effect to occur, the totality of conditions necessary and sufficient to produce that effect must be present. Moreover, unless all those conditions are present at the same time, the effect will not occur. Hence, any analysis of what it is to be a cause will presuppose this type of causal series. The intransitively ordered series is likewise a real causal series, as the objection admits. What is important to note is that this type of series (ordered intransitively) depends ultimately upon the first type of series (ordered transitively). For unless sufficient conditions are present to produce each particular effect in the intransitively ordered series, there will exist no such series.

16


Thus, both causal series are real. However, when one is considering what conditions must be present for an effect to occur, as is the case in the cosmological argument, only one type of series is relevant, namely, a transitively ordered series of necessary conditions. The question in this case is a logical one concerning required conditions. Let us now return to the question whether the infinite series under consideration is potentially or actually infinite. For a series to be potentially infinite, it must be such that it exists through a period of time. A potentially infinite series involves a sequential actualization. But as we have seen, the infinite series (5) in S4 does not involve sequential actualization. Thus, the infinite which we are concerned with must be an actual infinite, not a potential infinite; the series of contingent beings must be ordered transitively in order to provide a sufficient reason for the existence of the contingent being or effect. With this clarification of the nature of the infinite series (5) in S4 in mind, we must now inquire whether an actually infinite series of contingent causes can yield a sufficient reason for the existence of any contingent being. That it cannot can be seen from the following. Suppose we have an infinite series, such that a is caused by b, which in turn and at the same time is caused by c, which in turn is caused by d, and so on to infinity. This series is actually infinite, and each cause is in a transitive causal relation to another cause. Following Brown, and substituting "cause" for "move" in his account, we now ask, What [causes] a? Well, it has already been stated that b [causes] c; so it may be suggested that "b [causes] a" is the desired explanation of a's motion, the desired value of "x [causes] a." But this would be an inadequate account of the matter. For b is itself being [caused] by c, which — owing to the transitivity of "x [causes] y" — thus yields the implication that a is [caused] by c, with b serving merely as an instrument or intermediate. But in turn d [causes] c; and so on indefinitely. Now, so long as this series continues, we have not found the real [cause] of a; that is to say, we have not found the explaining value of the function "x [causes] a." The regress is thus a vicious one, in that the required explanation of a's motion is deferred so long as the series continues.7

And since the series continues indefinitely, the explanation of

A Cosmological

Argument

17

a is deferred indefinitely. Consequently, this type of series can never yield any sufficient reason for the existence of a. No matter to what extent one regresses in this causal series, one will never have sufficient causes to account for this particular being; the explanation is continually being deferred. Thus, an infinite series of contingent beings will never yield a sufficient reason for the existence of any contingent being. To produce an effect, there must be a cause, i.e. there must be present the totality of conditions necessary and sufficient to bring about that effect. But in an infinite series, such a totality is not present; the causal explantion is continually being deferred because, due to the nature of the infinite series of conditioned conditions, there must always be at least one more necessary condition. But if there is always at least one more necessary condition required, then all the conditions are not present; it is not sufficient to produce the effect. Hence, an infinite series of necessary conditions, where at least one more necessary condition is always required to produce the effect, will never yield a sufficient reason for the existence of any contingent being. In such a series, the explanation must be continually deferred. The objection might be raised, however, that this impossibility of garnering a sufficient reason from an infinite series is in fact due to our failure to consider the entire infinite series as an explanatory unit. The inability is due to our preoccupation with the notion that we must successively synthesize the infinite, i.e. that we must pass each causal element in review. But it is not essential to the existence of a collection, or even to knowledge and reasoning concerning it, that we should be able to pass its terms in review one by one. This may be seen in the case of finite collections; we can speak of "mankind" or "the human race," though many of the individuals of this collection are not personally known to us. . . . And exactly the same happens in the case of infinite collections: they may be known by their characteristics although their terms cannot be enumerated. In this sense, an unending series may nevertheless form the whole of it. 8

Consequently, when we consider the entire infinite series as a reason for something's existence—since it is possible to consider the infinite as a totality—will not the total infinite series

18


itself yield a sufficient reason for any existent? Is not the sufficient reason to be found in the infinite series of contingent beings taken all together, as a unit? That this will not do can be seen from the fact that " 'An infinite regress of [causes causes] a is not a possible value of the function 'x [causes] a,' for the variable in the latter ranges over individuals, not classes (and a forteriori not over series, finite or infinite)."9 That is, "the notion of infinity . . . is primarily a property of classes, and only derivatively applicable to series."10 But when we are asking for the cause of a, we are not asking for the class which causes a. Classes are not causes; only individuals are causes. Thus, we can in no way appeal to an infinite series, taken as a unit, in order to provide a sufficient reason for any being. Consequently, an actually infinite series of contingent beings can never yield a sufficient reason for the existence of any being. But a sufficient reason is required for the existence of a contingent being; that which is contingent is dependent on something else for the explanation of its existence. But if an infinite series of contingent beings is incapable of yielding this, we must appeal to the only remaining alternative, namely that there exists a non-contingent (necessary) being which provides the sufficient reason for any contingent being. That this is the only other alternative has been shown above (S 4 ) in that there is no tertium quid between an infinite series of contingent beings and a being which is non-contingent. Contingent and noncontingent exhaust all the possibilities. The fifth step has shown that the former alternative will never yield a sufficient reason for the existence of any being. Therefore, the only remaining alternative is to appeal to the causal explanation of a necessary being. The sixth step is thus the affirmation of the only remaining half of the dichotomy presented in step four: (S 6 ) Therefore, a necessary being exists. This conclusion contains two parts. On the one hand, this being is a necessary being. Since "necessary" here is the opposite of "contingent," the essential characteristics of this necessary being must be the opposite of those of a contingent being. Ac-


19

cordingly, whereas a contingent being is incapable of explaining its own existence, is dependent on something outside itself, and is caused, this necessary being is self-explanatory, independent, uncaused, and, as we can see from the cosmological argument itself, it must be the cause of everything else. On the other hand, the conclusion of this argument is that such a being necessarily exists in reality. This necessary being must really exist if we are to account for, to explain, the existence of contingent beings. Its existence is required by the very existence of those beings which depend on it for their existence. Without the existence of the necessary being, no contingent beings would exist. Thus, since there are contingent beings to be found in this world, there must necessarily be a non-contingent being, a being such that it explains, it accounts for, their existence. Thus, the sixth step provides the conclusion to the argument: a necessary being necessarily exists. As here presented, then, we have a true and valid cosmological argument which argues from the existence of some contingent being to the fact that a necessary being must exist in order to provide a sufficient reason for the existence of contingent beings. CONCLUSION We may summarize the detailed argument as follows: (Si) A contingent being exists. a. This contingent being is caused either (1) by itself, or (2) by another. b. If it were caused by itself, it would have to precede itself in existence, which is impossible. (5 2 ) Therefore, this contingent being (2) is caused by another, i.e. depends on something else for its existence. (5 3 ) That which causes (provides the sufficient reason for) the existence of any contingent being must be either (3) another contingent being, or (4) a non-contingent (necessary) being. c. If 3, then this contingent cause must itself be caused by another, and so on to infinity.

20

The Cosmological Argument (5 4 ) Therefore, that which causes (provides the sufficient reason for) the existence of any contingent being must be either (5) an infinite series of contingent beings, or (4) a necessary being. (5 5 ) An infinite series of contingent beings (5) is incapable of yielding a sufficient reason for the existence of any being. (S e ) Therefore, a necessary being (4) exists.

We have here what appears, at least initially, to be a true and valid cosmological argument From what appear to be true premises we have argued to a valid conclusion. Our task in the remaining chapters must be to defend the premises and steps of this argument against their various critics, both historical and contemporary, so that we may see whether our initial judgment as to the truth of this argument can be sustained. NOTES 1. Although even a cursory reading of the first two of Thomas's Five Ways reveals this underlying structure, it might be objected that the third argument (the argument from contingency) does not manifest such a pattern. However, I believe that a closer analysis will reveal that the pattern is still there. This argument seems to contain two parts. The first part attempts to prove that there exist necessary beings. Whereas the existence of motion and causation seem to Thomas to be obvious facts unnecessary of proof, the existence of necessary beings does seem to require such proof, and it is this which he undertakes to develop in the first part of the argument. The second part of the argument is the cosmological argument per se. It is here that he attempts to show that if necessary beings do exist (as he concludes from the first part), then there must be a being which has its necessity from itself — an uncaused necessary being. The second part of the argument follows precisely the same pattern as the arguments enunciated in the first two Ways. 2. In the history of the cosmological argument there seem to have been two different lines of argumentation, the point of divergence occurring here at S5. On the one hand, St. Thomas Aquinas contends that an infinite series of moved movers cannot fully or adequately account for the moving or causing of any one moved object. It is impossible to proceed to infinity in the series of moved movers, for to do so implies the absurdity that (1) an infinite number of bodies are moved in a finite time, and (2) there would be no motion, for where there is no first mover, there is no


21

subsequent mover (Summa Contra Gentiles, I, Ch. 13, Pars. 11-15; Summa Theologica, I, Q. 2, Art. 3). Hence, alternative 5 in S4 is rejected because it cannot provide the cause or sufficient reason for any moved thing. The other line of argumentation is represented by Duns Scotus. Scotus argues that an infinite series of causes ordered per se is impossible, for this whole series of infinite effects would itself be dependent upon some prior cause. The cause of this series cannot be part of the series, for if it were it would be the cause of itself. If it exists apart from the series of all caused beings, it must itself be uncaused, which is precisely what the arguer is trying to prove (Opus Oxioniese, I, Dist. II, Q. 1). Hence, alternative 5 in S4 is rejected as an alternative because ultimately even this infinite series of causes related per se must itself have a cause. The difference between these two forms of the argument is significant, as we shall point out in Chapter 5. 3. Richard McKeon (Ed.), Physics, The Basic Works of Aristotle (New York, Random House, 1941), 206a 14. 4. It is important to note that Aristotle has two different uses of "potential existence." He writes, "But the phrase 'potential existence' is ambiguous. When we speak of the potential existence of a statue we mean that there will be an actual statue. It is not so with the [potential which characterizes the] infinite. There will not be an actual infinite" (Ibid., 206a 18-20). That is to say, there is the type of potentiality which implies that the existent can at some instant of time actually and fully exist. In this sense, the potential existent will be completely actual at some particular time (all of it will be actualized at one time). The other type of potentiality will never be completely actualized at one time; it is potentially actual through a period of time. It can never become actual all at once, but must be actualized only through successive stages. It is in this latter sense that we are asking whether the infinite be potential. In this sense, the potential infinite will never exist all at once, but only through sequential actualization. 5. Frederick Copleston, "Commentary on the Five Ways." In John Hick (Ed.), The Existence of God (New York, Macmfflan, 1964), p. 87f. It is important to note that this type of causal series has been the series present in the cosmological argument ever since its formulation by St. Thomas. Thomas himself distinguished between a causal series which was ordered per se and one which was ordered per accidens. He writes, "In efficient causes it is impossible to proceed to infinity per se. Thus, there cannot be an infinite number of causes that are per se required for a certain effect; for instance, that a stone be moved by a stick, the stick by the hand, and so on to infinity. But it is not impossible to proceed to infinity accidentally as regards efficient causes. . . . [For example,] it is accidental to this particular man as generator to be generated by another man; for he generates as a man, and not as the son of another man. . . . Hence it

22


is not impossible for a man to be generated by man to infinity" (Sumrna Theologica, I, Q. 46, Art. 2, Reply Obj. 7). The difference between these two orderings of the causal series is clearly brought out by Duns Scotus. "Per se or essentially ordered causes differ from accidentally ordered causes. . . . In essentially ordered causes, the second depends upon the first precisely in its act of causation. In accidentally ordered causes this is not the case, although the second may depend upon the first for its existence, or in some other way. Thus, a son depends upon his father for existence but is not dependent upon him in exercising his own causality [that is, in himself begetting a son], since he can act just as well whether his father be living or dead . . . The [other] difference is that all per se and essentially ordered causes are simultaneously required to cause the effect, for otherwise some causality essential to the effect would be wanting" (Duns Scotus, Opus Oxioniese, I, Dist. II, Q. 1). Thus traditionally, the type of causal series which is integral to the cosmological argument was recognized to be one in which each and every cause is simultaneous with every other cause in the series, and in which each cause is dependent upon the prior cause for its causal efficacy. A per se ordering of causes involves no temporal sequence. The other type of causal series, i.e. one which is ordered per accidens, involves a temporal series: x causes y, which at a later time causes z. In this type of series, it has been deemed quite possible to proceed to infinity without contradiction. But this series is in no way involved in the cosmological argument; the argument is not trying to prove the existence of a first cause in time. 6. See Paterson Brown, "Infinite Causal Regression." Philosophical Review, LXXV, No. 4 (October, 1966), pp. 517-519. 7. Ibid., p. 522. 8. Bertrand Russell, Our Knowledge of the External World (London, Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1963), p. 197. 9. Brown, op. cit., p. 523; substituting "cause" for "move." 10. Russell, op. cit., p. 170.

Chapter 2

w

CAUSATION

an adequate explanation for the existence of contingent beings? To what can we appeal? How far, in terms of the order of causes, need one progress? The cosmological argument contends that an adequate explanation must include the sum total of all the conditions individually necessary and jointly sufficient for that event to occur. But is this an appropriate analysis of the requirements for adequate explanation? Is this the kind of explanation that is relevant to an analysis of the events in our world? William Alston, in dealing with the cosmological argument, poses the issue this way: HAT CONSTITUTES

Thus the crucial issue on which the cosmological argument hinges is an issue concerning the requirements for an adequate explanation. He who resists the argument will say something like this: So long as we explain a mother's overprotecting her daughter by pointing out her repressed hostility to the daughter and explain that in terms of her unconscious sense that her daughter is a threat to her, and so on, it is true that at each stage what we bring in to do the explaining stands in need of explanation of exactly the same sort, and that unless we can get back to something that is logically necessary we Can never exhaust the task. But that is just one of the things we have to learn to face in life, and it is unreasonable to demand that things be tidier than this. From this standpoint Aquinas is making an unreasonable metaphysical demand on the universe by insisting that it must be such that a final completion of this process is possible in principle. A Thomist will reply that this insistence is just part of the general assumption of the rationality of the universe which everyone makes whether or not he realizes it. But to this it will be replied that there are various grades and modes of rationality and that we can hold the universe to be rational in some ways, for example, ordered causally, without making such extreme demands as this. It would seem that at this point we have come up against one of those rock-bottom philosophical oppositions about which nothing further can be said. 1

23

24

Tne Cosmological Argument

It seems that the core of the disagreement between proponents and critics of the cosmological argument at this juncture clearly lies in the nature of explanation. When one explains the occurrence of an event, what sort of explanation is adequate or sufficient? Is it quite sufficient to present the event which preceded the event to be explained? Will a listing of relevant conditions be sufficient to account for the event in question? Or must explanation be in terms of the totality of conditions necessary and sufficient to explain the effect? What is the nature of explantion? On the surface, it would seem that Alston is correct in his claim that we have before us a rock-bottom issue about which little more can be said. We have reached a methodological impasse, with the result that the cosmological argument will be valid only to those who choose to adopt a particular methodology, invalid to those who adopt another method, and nothing much more can be done than to compare methods. But is the issue of the nature of explanation involved here so rock-bottom that nothing further can be relevant? One must be careful, I think, about putting the issue as Alston did, for it is not simply a question of what features we must give in order to explain the event. It is not a question about how complete our own enumeration of necessary conditions for any particular event must be. It is not simply an epistemological issue, as Alston seems to claim. The problem is grounded in an ontological issue about the nature of explanation, or more accurately, about causation. In explaining the existence of any contingent being, one is asking for the cause of it. What brought it into existence? What caused it to be? Hence, the question really is, What is it to be a cause? And this question certainly is open to philosophical analysis and scrutiny. In other words, since the issue is not merely methodological, but about the nature of what it is to be a cause, we are not at a philosophical impasse; the door is open to further investigation. This same point can be seen in another way. In answer to the question posed by Alston, "What will explain a mother's overprotecting her daughter," both the critic and the proponent of the cosmological argument will give the same reply,

Causation

25

"The cause." But this answer does not terminate dialogue and debate, with each banking on a view of explanation about which nothing further can be said. Rather, it opens up the possibility for further analysis, for we can now inquire what each means by the term "cause," and evaluate the adequacy of their analyses. Thus, the real question is, What is it to be a cause? It is the answer to this which will determine what does or does not constitute an adequate explanation. To proposed answers to this question let us now turn our attention. CAUSATION AS CONSTANT CONJUNCTION One of the most influential answers to the question, What is causation? was given by the eighteenth century philosopher David Hume. Hume contends that causation must be analyzed in terms of a psychological propensity which arises on the occasion of the awareness of a constant conjunction between objects. How, in detail, does he present this analysis of causation? Hume states that to understand the idea of causation, we must search out the impressions from which this common idea comes, for all ideas must ultimately come from impressions. In other words, what we know of the causal relation can (and must) be stated in terms of that which is perceptible to us. What, then, Hume asks, are the original impressions which lead us to form the idea of cause and effect? "The idea, then, of causation must be derived from some relation among objects."2 Indeed, Hume discovered that there are three relations which are ultimately responsible for producing our notion of causation. The first is the spatial relation of contiguity. The cause and effect must be in physical contact for causation to occur. If one observes causation-at-a-distance, i.e. one object causing another which is at some distance from it (as with a magnet or moon and tides), the causation is due to intermediate bodies which are contiguous among themselves. The second is the temporal relation of priority; the cause must be temporally precedent to the effect. But these alone are merely two of the conditions necessary for causation; they are not jointly sufficient to give us the experience of causation. Two objects can be contiguous and temporally prior to each

26


other without our ever experiencing causation. The third condition is the presence of a necessary connection. But what, Hume asks, is a necessary connection? We know what spatial and temporal relations are, but what is a relation of necessity? And secondly, why is this condition so essential or as he puts it, "of much greater importance than any of the other two abovementioned"? 3 To answer the latter first, we must understand the view of causation against which Hume was reacting. Traditionally, the causal relation was viewed as one of production; the efficient cause produced some kind of change or alteration in the effect. In order for the cause to produce changes in the effect, it had to possess a certain power or efficacy. The effect resulted from the power which the cause possessed, viz. the power to change the character, location, or mode of existence of the object affected. Thus, the carpenter had the power or causal efficacy to change the shape, size, or even the hue of the wood. Indeed, the resulting woodwork was the consequence of his power of production. Thus, essential to the traditional notion of causation was the notion of production, power, or better, causal efficacy. Now for Hume, the term "necessary connection" is synonymous with "causal efficacy" or "causal power." For example, Hume writes, "I begin with observing that the terms of efficacy, agency, power, force, energy, necessary connexion, and productive quality, are all nearly synonymous."* And a little later in this discussion he indicates that the terms "necessity" and "power" are interchangeable. 5 In other words, in Hume's terminology to speak about a necessary connection is to refer to the element of causal efficacy or power found in the traditional view of causation. Moreover, since causal efficacy or power was deemed to be the essence of the causal relationship—for it was this which accounted for the unique element of productivity manifested in causation—then necessary connection should likewise appear as, if not the essence of causation (taking into account Hume's rejection of essentialism), at least the most important element in or sufficient condition of causation. And since this is the case, this accounts for the great importance which Hume places on this relation of necessary connection.

Causation

27

Let us then turn to the first question, What is a necessary connection? To answer this, Hume inquires concerning the source of the idea of necessary connection; from what impression does it come? Obviously this idea of necessity never comes from the impressions of sensation; sensation is only capable of presenting us with the first two relationships; it never presents us with the idea of necessity. Therefore, the idea of necessity cannot be an impression of sensation, but must be an impression of reflection. It is "an internal impression of the mind," which comes from the repetition of a conjunction between events. Perceived constant conjunction produces in us a feeling of determination or the propensity to pass from one object as the cause to another as the effect. "Necessity is the effect of this observation [of constant conjunction], and is nothing but an internal impression of the mind, or a determination to carry our thought from one object to another."6 Thus causation, contrary to the traditional opinion, does not involve causal efficacy or causal power located in the object itself; it does not involve any real transfer of causal energy. We can have no idea of causal efficacy per se. If we could, we would be able to "produce some instance where the efficacy is plainly discoverable to the mind."7 But it seems quite obvious that there is no impression with which we can correlate this notion of production or efficacy. "We can never have any impression, that contains any power or efficacy. We never therefore have any idea of power."8 Thus, the notion of power must be analyzed in terms of the propensity to pass from the idea of one object to the idea of another, occasioned by our experience of two objects constantly conjoined in this relation of continguity and temporal priority. Therefore, causation as an objective relation between objects A and B occurs when (1) A and B are spatially contiguous, (2) A is temporally prior to B, and (3) any object like A is contiguous and prior to some object like B. Causation as an idea occurs when conditions 1, 2, and 3 give rise to or produce condition 4, a "new impression in the mind," a feeling of determination of the mind, a propensity, to pass from the idea of A to the idea of B.

28


Of the conditions for causation which Hume lays out, two, I believe, merit closer attention. Let us first consider the necessary condition of temporal priority, and then turn our attention to the condition which Hume deems essential and ultimately constitutive of the objective causal relationship, constant conjunction. Critique of the Condition of Temporal Priority As we noted above, Hume contends that temporal priority is a necessary condition for causation. Unless the cause be temporally prior to the effect, unless the one succeed the other in time, there can be no temporal progression in causation. All objects would have to be coexistent, for there would be no succession of causes, which is contrary to experience. Hence, cause and effect are not connected but merely conjoined; the one succeeds the other. But is temporal priority a necessary condition for causation? To be such, there must be no case of causation where the cause is not temporally prior to the effect (with respect to its causal activity). But there are clearly such cases. Take, for example, the case of the water skier presented in the first chapter. The towboat moves through the water, pulling out the slack in the towline. The towline snaps taut, and the skier is pulled off the dock onto the lake. But though the boat was moving prior to the insertion of the skier into the water, not until the skier is actually pulled off the dock and onto the water is the boat the cause with respect to the skier. And this motion of the boat, responsible for the insertion of the skier into the water, is simultaneous with the motion of the skier. The boat is a cause with respect to the skier only at that time when, simultaneous with its own motion, it pulls the skier off the dock. Or take the case of the moving of this writing pen by my fingers (my hand causes the pen to move). Now it is not the case that the pen moves after I move my fingers. Rather, the pen "responds" immediately to the corresponding movement of my fingers: the pen moves simultaneously with the moving of my hand. There is no time lapse between my hand's movement and that of the pen.

Causation

29

Or again, consider a leaf that is being fluttered by the wind. Here it would be quite erroneous to say that the wind currents impinge upon the leaf, and then, at some time later, the leaf flutters in response. There is no gap in time at all. One might want to say that the leaf, however light, does offer some resistance to the wind, and that the wind must overcome this slight resistance before fluttering occurs. But then we need only add that the wind is no cause of the leaf's motion until that resistance is overcome. Cause and effect are again, then, simultaneous.9

Here we have cases which are instances of causation. Yet in each, the cause is simultaneous with the effect. Indeed, in each case, though the cause might be in motion prior to the effect, at such a time it is not yet a cause. It becomes a cause only when it begins to move the object affected by its action. In other words, temporal priority is not a necessary condition, for there are instances commonly accepted as instances of causation which do not involve this condition. Moreover, I think one could even go beyond the claim that temporal priority is not a necessary condition, to ask whether it is ever a condition of causation. If the cause is temporally prior to the effect, can there ever be anything such as causation? Let us suppose for a moment that temporal priority is involved. What is the causal situation with respect to two billiard balls, where the one causes the other to move by striking it? On the one hand, we have the cue ball A in motion (causing) at time Tt. And on the other hand, we have the two-ball B in motion (being caused) at time Tt, where T2 succeeds Tt. Now according to our observation, A strikes B, causing it to roll across the table; it is this action of one ball striking another that we want to designate as causation. Now what did A strike (cause) at Tt? Obviously, it could not have struck (caused) B, for B is caused at 1\, which is later than Tt. Moreover, what struck (caused) B at Te? Obviously it could not have been A, for A caused at Tt. This is certainly an odd state of affairs! We saw (or thought we saw) A strike B, and cause it to roll into the side pocket. But according to this Humean analysis, A cannot strike (cause) B, nor can B be struck (be caused) by A, for A causes and

,

">

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The Cosmologicat Argument

B is caused at two different times. What went amiss? Was it our observation, or was it the analysis of causation in terms of temporal priority? By carrying this example a bit farther, I think we can show that it is the analysis, not the observation, for if temporal priority is involved, A cannot cause anything to move. If A cannot strike B because of time difference, maybe there is some object C between A and B which A causes, and which in turn causes B. But here again, if cause A is temporally prior to the effect C, A must cause at time T, and C must be caused at T*u where T precedes TV,. If this is the case, then A cannot cause or strike C, for C was struck at a time later than the time of A's action. Indeed, we are forced to conclude that any object which we substitute for y, where A causes y, cannot really be caused by A at all; it is always caused at a time later than the time when A causes. As such, nothing can ever move anything else. But surely this is contrary to experience; we do see one object moving another. It seems, then, that we must reject temporal priority as being a condition at all for causation. The necessary condition must be simultaneity. A causes B at the same time as B is caused by A. In order to act, they must both be present and interacting at the same time. Where they are not simultaneous, where the one is temporally prior to the other with respect to its causal activity, causation cannot occur, for what acts at T certainly can have no relation to the causal action at TV,. It is therefore simultaneity, not temporal priority, which is a necessary condition of causation. The objection has been raised by Hume and others that if all causes are contemporaneous with their effects, there can be no such thing as a causal sequence or causal chain. If everything happened simultaneously, if all causes and effects operated at the same time, every cause causally connected with a certain cause would be contemporaneous with the first cause, making temporal succession impossible. Richard Taylor puts the objection this way: If some event A, for example, causes B, which in turn causes C, which in turn causes D, then in case every cause is simultaneous with its effect, it follows that when A occurs, then the others, and indeed

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every event in the universe that is in any way causally connected with A, must occur at the same time. This, however, is false. There are causal chains, and sometimes temporally separated events are casually related in one way or anodier. When a stone is dropped into the middle of a pond, for instance, this has at least some causal connection with ripples that appear at the shore some moments later.10

Taylor and Hume are right, of course, in recognizing that there are causal chains which occupy time. But one can account for these chains in a view of causation which involves temporal simultaneity, in particular, by invoking the notion of intervening causes. As we noted in Chapter 1, there are two types of causal chains, one which is ordered transitively and another which is ordered intransitively. With respect to the former, though each cause can be active for a period of time such that the entire causal chain can be of a particular duration in time, each cause is simultaneous with the first cause. Consequently, one can conceive of this type of causal chain as ordered apart from consideration of time. However, with respect to the second type of causal ordering, each cause not only occupies time, but each cause need not be simultaneous with every other cause. When one observes such a causal chain, one observes, for example, cause A acting for a duration of time, affecting other things such as B, which in turn acts for a period of time, causing C, and so on. Though each cause is simultaneous with its own effect, the causal activity of each of these intransitively ordered causes can continue for various lengths of time, with the result that the entire causal sequence or chain occupies time. But when B causes C (where B is intransitively related to A and C), A need not be present. Hence, C need not be simultanous with A, and a causal chain spread over a period of time results. Perhaps an example will be of help in explaining this. One can consider a genealogical lineage to be such a causal chain. For example, Abraham is the cause of Isaac, and Isaac of Jacob. Abraham is the simultaneous cause of Isaac's conception, and Isaac of Jacob's. But it was not necessary for Abraham to still exist when Jacob was conceived; Jacob's concep-

32


tion was not simultaneous with that of Isaac. Abraham, then, caused Isaac, and Isaac caused Jacob; each was a member of an intransitively ordered causal chain in which each cause was simultaneous with its own individual effect, and where the intransitively ordered causal chain was extended in time. In other words, one need not invoke the mistaken notion of temporal priority in order to account for temporal succession in causation. One can maintain that causes are contemporaneous with their effects, and still hold that, since they are active for a duration of time, and since they are followed by numerous other causes, the entire intransitively ordered causal chain can occupy any given length of time. With respect to Hume's first condition, then, it seems that not only is it not a necessary condition (in that one can present instances of causation where the condition of temporal priority is absent), but it is not a condition of causation at all. For if it were, causation would in principle be impossible. Critique of the Condition of Constant Conjunction Let us proceed to the other condition, i.e. constant conjunction, which Hume feels is the sufficient condition for causation. Can we analyze causation in terms of constant conjunction? We can show that constant conjunction is not a necessary condition by presenting instances of causation where events needed to occur only once for us to conclude that causation had occurred. For example, only one atomic bomb needed to be dropped for America to conclude that such would cause great destruction and death to the populus of a great city. Even if no other bombs had been dropped on Japan, there would have been no doubt concerning the fact that atomic bombs cause radiation bums of great intensity on human beings. One could, of course, object that since other bombs were dropped with the same fiery results, constant conjunction is involved. But though this statement shows that the same cause will bring forth the same results, this does not mitigate our point that prior to the dropping of any other atomic bombs, or had no other bombs ever been dropped, one still would conclude that atomic bombs cause radiation bums. One can establish such a causal

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conclusion simply on the basis of one tragic event. Likewise, from a single scientific experiment conducted under methodologically rigorous conditions one can conclude that one thing is the cause of another. One needs only one experiment under controlled conditions to show, for example, that methyl mercury is hazardous to human health, that it can cause severe brain damage. Thus, causation can occur, and one can conclude such, without a constant conjunction between objects. One can likewise show that constant conjunction is not a sufficient condition by presenting instances where two objects or events are constantly conjoined, but where one would not say that the one is the cause of the other. For example, day follows night, and night follows day, but day is not the cause of night, nor night the cause of day. Again, the building of a nest by a bird is regularly followed by the laying of her eggs, but no one suggests that nest building causes egg laying. Finally, the ringing of the class bell is regularly followed by the noise of moving chairs in the classroom. But the bell cannot be considered to be the cause of the sound of scraping chairs. One could multiply examples to show that there are objects or events which, though constantly conjoined, are not causally related. In sum, constant conjunction, like temporal priority, is neither a necessary nor a sufficient condition for causation. Hence, we must turn to other accounts to discover a proper analysis of the causal relation. CAUSATION AS A COVERING LAW More recent analyses of the causal relation have attempted to improve on Hume's view in certain significant ways. First, they have attempted to divorce themselves from introducing into causality any psychological components, as was Hume's propensity. They have tried to locate the necessity involved in other than the psychological realm. This, of course, is consistent with the general separation of psychology from philosophy since Hume's day. Secondly, they have attempted to supplement the theory of constant conjunction in order to eliminate the "inadequacies of a constant conjunction theory along Hume's

34


lines."11 As a result, causation is usually developed in terms of a causal or covering law. For example, Bertrand Russell writes that it would be preferable to eliminate the words "cause" and "effect" altogether, and to simply talk about causal laws. The word "cause," in the scientific account of the world, belongs only to the early stages, in which small preliminary approximate generalizations are being ascertained with a view to subsequent larger and more invariable laws. . . . But in a sufficiently advanced science, the word "cause" will not occur in any statement of invariable laws.12

Or as Stephen Toulmin puts it, "The question of causality becomes the question whether all physical phenomena are completely mappable." 13 As a proponent exemplary of this type of position in modern philosophy, I want to analyze briefly the notion of causation proffered by R. B. Braithwaite, to see whether a supplementation of Hume's basic thesis along the lines of a covering law can provide an adequate analysis of causation. Braithwaite analyzes causation in terms of a general (scientific) law which applies to the event. "The statement that some particular event is the effect of a set of circumstances involves the assertion of a general law; to ask for the cause of an event is always to ask for a general law which applies to the particular event."14 Now since in asking for the cause, we are asking for a general, scientific law, we must discover what constitutes a scientific law. According to Braithwaite, a scientific law is a generalization which "asserts the constant conjunction of properties."15 It "includes a generalization, i.e. a proposition asserting a universal connection between properties. It always includes a proposition stating that every event or thing of a certain sort either has a certain property or stands in a certain relation to other events, or things, having certain properties."16 Thus, the scientific law which expresses a causal relation is simply a statement of a constant conjunction between events. And the statement of such a conjunction must be an inductive generalizaion. Since we can experience only a few of the constant conjunctions, we must generalize from these to form a law stating that these two events are always conjoined. Thus, in accepting

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the view that causation can be analyzed in no other terms than constant conjunction, he accepts Hume's conclusion that there is nothing else involved (e.g. no causal efficacy or real necessity) other than constant conjunction between the events. However, for Braithwaite, the scientific law does not stand merely as an inductive generalization established by a simple enumeration of the events. Rather, the generalization stands within an entire hypothetical-deductive system as a deductive conclusion from higher (inductive) hypotheses or laws. A generalization must be explained, not as an isolated instance of induction by simple enumeration, . . . but in reference to the place which it occupies within a scientific system . . . . The combination of the constant conjunction view that scientific laws are only generalizations with a doctrine of the function of such generalizations within scientific systems puts the constant conjunction view in a new light. 17

Thus, the confirmation of any causal law does not simply depend upon the presentation of evidence which shows that two events are constantly conjoined, for in the very nature of this case, such evidence can be no more than partial. However, if the law can be deduced from other laws supported by evidence, so that together they find their place in a total hypothetical-deductive system, the law thus based has behind it the total weight of both the evidence and the deductive system. That is to say, the scientific laws which explain causation are not simply generalizations based on constant conjunction, but are also deductions from higher-level scientific hypotheses. It is the fact that the law finds its place within the total system which accounts for our expressions of causation in apodictic terms.18 In this view, therefore, . . . when a person asks for a cause of a particular event, what he is requesting is the specification of a preceding or simultaneous event which, in conjunction with certain unspecified cause factors of the nature of permanent conditions, is nomically 19 sufficient to determine the occurrence of the event to be explained in accordance with a causal law. 20

That is to say, causation can be analyzed first into those events which precede or are simultaneous with the explicandum-event.

36


These events constitute the sufficient condition for the explicandum-event. Secondly, there are those conditions in the nature of the explicandum-event which make possible such an event (for example, the glass in the window has a certain fragility). Finally, the constant conjunction of these events must be according to, or deducible from, a particular causal law. It is this aspect which gives our causal statements their apodictic certainty. Thus, when events fulfilling the first two conditions are constantly conjoined so that we can form a generalization concerning their relationship, and when this general statement can be placed within a deductive system, then we can ascribe causation to these events. Causation is therefore not a productive relation between things, but designates the set of rules whereby, when events are constantly conjoined and this generalization can be subsumed under a causal law,21 we can apply the term "causation." And for Braithwaite, it is the fact that this generalization can be placed into a scientific system, in which it can be deduced from higher laws, that avoids the difficulties of basing causation merely on constant conjunction. Critique Can one properly conclude that this contemporary attempt to rescue a constant conjunction theory of causation by introducing the notion of a covering law is successful? To answer this, let us first evaluate the particular analysis given by Braithwaite; then let us turn to a more general evaluation of the notion of a covering law. Braithwaite appeals to higher order causal laws in order to solve two difficulties which exist in an analysis of causation simply in terms of constant conjunction. First, as we have argued above, constant conjunction is in and of itself neither a necessary nor a sufficient condition for causation. One can have instances of causation where this condition is absent; one can have events where this condition is present but causation fails to occur. Accordingly, constant conjunction does not constitute a proper explicans of causation. Braithwaite's response to this criticism is that constant conjunction must be supple-

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mented by an appeal to higher order causal laws. It is never constant conjunction alone, but constant conjunction in accordance with a causal law, which provides us with a proper analysis of the causal event. Secondly, why is it the case that a particular event occurs only after another particular event? Why, for example, does the throwing of a ball through a window always result in the glass breaking, and never in the glass singing? Since any two events can in theory be constantly conjoined, why it is that only certain events are followed by certain other events? Since, as Hume argued, constant conjunction means events conjoined, not connected, there is nothing within the relation of constant conjunction which can account for why one event must be conjoined with another particular event, rather than with an entirely different event. Constant conjunction can account for the prediction as to what event will probably occur after another (i.e. that one event is conjoined to another particular event), and this because it has always been thus in the past. But it cannot say why this particular event must always be associated with this particular cause. Again, to solve this Braithwaite appeals to his causal laws. For him, we can know why one particular event must follow another because of the nature of causal laws. A law states a necessary relationship between events. Hence, in any particular case we can know that x must follow upon y because there is a causal generalization which asserts that events of class X must follow those of class Y. And because these causal generalizations can be deduced from higher causal laws, which in turn express the way the world must be, these generalizations express why particular events are causally related in the world. In both cases, then, he answers the objection raised against a constant conjunction theory by appealing to the fact that this causal generalization finds its place in a hypothetical-deductive system, in that it can be deduced from higher (causal) laws. But surely this answer begs the question. We cannot hope to explain causation by introducing the notion of causality in the explicans. To say that to ask for the cause is to ask for the generalization which must be according to and deducible from

38


higher causal or nomic laws or hypotheses, is certainly circular, for here we are explaining causal generalizations in terms of higher causal generalizations. It is this circularity which makes his position suspect. Moreover, how do we account for these higher causal laws? For Braithwaite, these higher laws are themselves inductive generalizations deduced from still higher laws or generalizations. And these in turn can be deduced from still higher generalizations, and so on until we reach the highest level of generalizations. But these highest ones are themselves inductive generalizations based on constant conjunction; they cannot be deduced from anything higher because they are the highest. Thus, the problems raised against the lowest level of generalizations again arise in relation to the highest causal generalizations which are formed on the basis of constant conjunction. All that Braithwaite has succeeded in doing is to push the problems back to another level. But at the highest level the same problems arise, and here there are no higher inductive hypotheses from which to deduce these generalizations. Thus, not only has he begged the question by introducing at the higher levels the notion of causation, a notion which he was attempting to account for on the lower levels, but he has not succeeded in solving the original problems raised against the lowest levels of inductive generalizations, for he has merely pushed these problems up to the highest level, where they can be reintroduced against the inductive generalizations established there. Thus, this analysis still leaves unsolved some of the basic problems encountered by a theory based upon constant conjunction. Putting aside for a moment the specific difficulties which Braithwaite encounters in his analysis, what can be said in general about analyzing causation in terms of a covering law? A covering law states that whenever events of such and such a kind occur, events of such and such a kind will follow. A law thus delineates specific conditions which must be met, and informs us what specific consequences follow upon these conditions. As such, it distinguishes relevant conditions from irrelevant ones. But is not this to say that (1) certain conditions are

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necessary for a certain event to occur, (2) that the totality of these conditions, as the sufficient condition, is the cause of the effect, and (3) that there must be some objective necessary connection between the cause and the effect? The first certainly must be the case, for it is the purpose of a law to state those, and only those, conditions under which a specific event (as the effect) will occur. The second likewise seems to be the case, for in laying out the conditions sufficient for the event, the law is designating the cause of that effect. And finally, the third also seems to follow. A general statement cannot be considered a law if it is merely true in a contingent sense, i.e. if it merely states a de facto connection between certain properties as causal conditions and a certain effect. A law states a necessary, not a contingent relationship, between objects; it must state not only what has happened, but what must happen under those specific conditions. But to state what must happen is to make that statement represent a necessary connection between the cause and the effect. It is to say that there is something in the cause which is not present in other conditions which are deemed extraneous, something which makes the effect occur. Instead of dispensing with necessary connection by invoking covering laws, this analysis requires it. Instead of explaining it in terms of deducibility within a deductive system, it presupposes it. Thus, covering laws do not function as an explanation of causation. The necessity which is inherent in the law derives from the necessary connection between the cause and the effect. Indeed, the possibility of formulating the causal law depends on the existence of such a necessary connection. Hence, a covering law does not explain causation; it formalizes the causal relation but is not an analysis of causality. The question of the nature of causation and of the necessary connection between cause and effect still remains. CAUSATION AS PRODUCTION There remains one analysis of causality upon which we have not touched. Philosophers prior to Hume viewed causation as an act of production; the cause was that which produced

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changes in another object. For example, Aristotle writes, "[Cause can be interpreted as] the primary source of the change or coming to rest, . . . as generally what makes of what is made and what causes change of what is changed."22 Or later John Locke writes, "That which produces any simple or complex idea we denote by the general name, cause, and that which is produced, effect."23 The (efficient) cause, then, is that object which by means of its activity produces changes in another object, designated the effect. Implied in this analysis is the contention that there is something in the cause which makes it capable of such activity. That by which the cause produces these changes in the state, location, or character of the effect is its causal power or causal efficacy; the cause has within it the power to bring about those changes observed in the effect. It is this efficacy which gives causation its dynamic character. Thus, causation involves a transfer of energy or power from one object to another. These notions might appear at first sight "unscientific," but such need not be the case. This notion of causal efficacy or power can, I think, be adequately translated into contemporary scientific terms. For example, in some cases the power can be seen as the kinetic energy of the object (cause) in motion, while the transference of this corresponds with the mechanical work done, to the expenditure of this kinetic energy in the production of the effect.24 In order for there to be causation, this energy must be expended in a certain way. If the object (cause) is merely expending kinetic energy, but producing no changes in another object, action can be observed, but certainly not causation. Causation therefore involves the expenditure of energy in the production of change in another object. Hume's Critique and Reply As we noted above, it is this view of causation which David Hume was at pains to criticize. First of all, Hume argues, to analyze causation in terms of production is not to provide a philosophical analysis or explication of causation at all, for production is merely a synonym for causation. To say that causation

j i

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is production gets us nowhere in terms of understanding what causation really is. Hume puts the objection this way: Should any one leave this instance, and pretend to define a cause by saying it is something productive of another, 'tis evident he would say nothing. For what does he mean by production? Can he give any definition of it, that will not be the same with that of causation? If he can; I desire it may be produced. If he cannot; he here runs in a circle, and gives a synonymous term instead of a definition.25

Hence, to understand causation, we must give an analysis in terms other than production, i.e. in terms of constant conjunction. Hume, of course, is correct in his contention that production is not a definiens of causation; clearly it is only a synonym. However, neither does constant conjunction or covering law provide an adequate analysis of the causal relation. It seems from this that rather than attempt to explain causation in terms of any other category, we should maintain that causation is itself a basic concept, one which cannot be explicated in terms of anything else. As Richard Taylor puts it, What this means is that causation is a philosophical category, that while the concept of causation can perhaps be used to shed light upon other problems or used in the analysis of other relationships, no other concepts can be used to analyze it.26

Any attempt to define it must ultimately borrow from it. However, to say that causation is production is not to say "nothing at all." Rather, it is to imply, first of all, that causality involves more than mere contiguity and temporal succession, more than a constant conjunction between events. To say that cause A produced effect B is to say that A made B happen by virtue of its power to do so. Thus, the claim that causation is production implies that there is an efficacy present within the relationship; the cause makes the effect occur. In other words, to see causation as production is to exclude any analysis of causation which attempts to eliminate causal efficacy. Secondly, as we shall argue in the next section, it also implies that a set of conditions is involved in that act of production, conditions which are both necessary and sufficient for that event to occur. In these senses, then, it says a great deal.

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Thus Hume's criticism, though true, is not telling against our contention that causation should be understood in terms of production, since we never claimed that there was a defmiendum-defmiens relation between the two. On the other hand, the fact that production is an appropriate synonym for causation, that causation is production, reveals something about the nature of the causal relation, i.e. that causal efficacy and causal conditions are involved. The mention of causal efficacy introduces Hume's most important criticism of the view that causation is production. If causal efficacy is central to causality, he argues, we should be able to show from what impression we derive such an idea. But we can never have any impression of causal efficacy or power. Through what sense would it come? It is not an object of sight or touch; it is not a sound or taste or smell. Hence, since there is no impression to which we can trace an idea of production or power, we can have no idea of causal efficacy or power. Hume sums up his argument as follows: All ideas are derived from, and represent impressions. We never have any impression, that contains any power or efficacy. We never therefore have any idea of power.27

And since we cannot have any idea of power or causal efficacy, but we can entertain an idea of causality, causality cannot consist of efficacy or power. Thus, since to analyze causation in terms of production is to claim that one can experience causal efficacy, and since causal efficacy cannot in principle be experienced, this constitutes an inadequate analysis of causation. But is Hume correct in his contention that causal efficacy cannot be experienced? I would like to contend that he is wrong on two counts. First of all, his contention that causal efficacy cannot in principle be experienced is based upon a false presupposition about the nature of our perceptual experience. Hume, taking the analytical posture that he does, assumes that the phenomenal world must be a replica of the world of stimuli. In any particular instance of perception, we can perceive nothing more than we can sense; nothing can be perceived unless there is something in the sphere of sensory

43

Causation

stimulation corresponding to it. Thus with respect to an analysis of causation, Hume, consistent with his presuppositions, contends that since there is no sensation with which we can correlate this essential aspect of productivity, and since the perception of causal efficacy is dependent upon such, we cannot perceive this aspect of causation (if indeed it is even there). But clearly this presupposition about the nature of perceptual experience can no longer be reasonably maintained. The discovery and analysis of the Gestalt phenomena have laid to rest this analysis of the perceptual experience, for it has been shown that there is more in the phenomenal world than in the world of stimulus or sense data. We cannot account for such phenomena as grouping, figure-ground, closure, proximity, and gestalt-forming on grounds of stimuli alone. For example, when we, in our perceptual experience, prior to any act of inference, complete incomplete or merely suggested patterns, we are going beyond the stimulational data. We find in these patterns elements which cannot be correlated with any stimulational data. Yet this lack of correlation in no way prevents the perception of these pattern elements. For example, take a figure composed of disconnected lines (see Fig. A). When asked what we see, we reply that we see the figure of a star. We do not perceive A /V / I

\ \

•> I

.

.

< '

*

^

\ .

"A ' Figure A

merely disconnected lines; rather we perceive the total gestalt as the closed figure of a star. It is the figure itself which is the immediate object of perception, and not the disconnected phys-

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ical elements. But this closed figure of a star cannot be completely correlated with any particular set of sensory stimuli or sense data, for the figure is "composed" of both physical fines and missing segments between these lines. We perceive these missing segments as "being there," yet they are not there in the sense of a physical presence of which we could have sense data. Yet their physical absence in no way prevents us from observing the completed pattern of a star. In other words, our immediate perceptual experience is not an exact rephca of the data of sense. As Albert Michotte writes, It is a well-known fact that these combinations [of stimuli] often do not show any observable resemblance to the phenomena involved; and in particular the properties of structural organization, such as integration, segregation, "belonging to," "dependence on," etc., are clearly strangers to the world of stimuli, which, as far as the visual sphere is concerned, is nothing more than a collection of light rays operating independently of one another. In short, the role of stimuli is to supply an impulse which determines the response of the receiving organism, which then reacts in accordance with the endogenous laws of its own functioning in constructing the phenomenal world.28

Hence, the presupposition which lies behind Hume's contention that we can never have any idea of causal efficacy or power is untenable; the phenomenal world is not a rephca of the world of sensory stimuli. The fact that there is no corresponding sense data or correlative stimulus for causal efficacy does not entail that this cannot be a part of our perceptual experience. But what about Hume's denial that we can experience causal efficacy? Even apart from the above presupposition, cannot such be maintained? The answer, I believe, must be in the negative. Take, for example, the case of Johnny hitting a ball through the window. What is it that we see when we observe this event? Do we first perceive the ball striking the window and then the window shattering? Do we merely see the events of the ball moving through the air and the pane of glass breaking conjoined? I think not. We actually see the ball going through the window; we actually perceive the ball shatter the glass. Or take the case of a saw cutting an oak log.

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We do not first see the saw moving, and then the log being cut. Rather, we actually see the oak log being cut by the saw. It is not the conjunction of two events, but the dynamic connection of two objects that we see. We perceive the action of the one object causing the other to break or split; we actually perceive the causal production involved. It is true that we do not sense the causal efficacy, in the sense that we could correlate some individual sense impression with the efficacy—unless we are involved other than in the capacity of an observer. However, as we noted above, this lack constitutes no objection to the possibiltiy of perceiving the causal action as a gestalt or nexus, as a unified pattern of active production. This same fact is carried over into the language used to report observations of such events. We say that we saw the ball break the window; we observed the saw cut the oak log; we watched the snowplow move the snowdrift; we perceived the derrick lift the metal beam; we watched the fire melt the chocolate bar. The productive action of one object on another constitutes the proper object of observation verbs like see, perceive, watch. In other words, our language records that we experience or see causal efficacy or production. This analysis of common sense and ordinary language has been strikingly confirmed by a French philosopher-psychologist, Albert Michotte, in a series of carefully conducted experiments. Michotte arranged two kinds of experiments with respect to mechanical causation. The one, called the "Launching Effect," consisted of an object29 A striking another object B; A stopped at that point while B began to move off in the same direction. The other, designated the "Entraining Effect," consisted of an object A not only striking another object B, but continuing on together with it. Almost without exception, the subjects who underwent these experiments, when queried as to what they perceived, answered that they perceived the one object acting on the other. They did not see merely two objects in constant conjunction. Rather, they had an impression of real causality; they claimed to actually perceive causality. They had what Michotte calls a causal impression, i.e. the impression of A making B go, of producing B's movement.

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For example, concluding his summary of the experiments with the "Launching Effect," Michotte writes, From the experiments described so far there is sufficient evidence to show clearly that the Launching Effect (in the case of launching-bystriking) must be considered as a perceptual Form (Gestalt). It is characterized by a specific internal structure, and occurs when there are certain definite conditions of stimulation and reception. Like all perceptual Forms it disappears as a result of appropriate modification in the stimulus-conditions, or as a result of changes in the observer's attitude which lead to the substitution of a different Form. . . . It is therefore quite out of the question to regard the causal aspect of the Launching Effect as due to an "act of interpretation" on our part, or to suppose that, under the influence of past experience or in some other way, we ourselves invest certain basic impressions of movement with a "meaning." On the contrary there is actual perception of causality, in the same sense that there is perception of shapes, movements, and so on.30

Thus, the phenomenal perception of causation is in terms of a causal impression. For Michotte, a causal impression is an immediate datum of perceptual experience; it is something directly lived.31 It is a Gestalt Form immediately given in perception; it is not inferred from it. Moreover, it is an actual perception of causality. The causal impression consists of the awareness of one object "acting on another object, producing in it certain changes, and modifying it in one way or another."32 Thus, "the perception of causality is quite literally the perception of an act of production, or, to be more exact still, an act of production immediately perceived."33 It is significant to note that in Michotte's studies, one of his conclusions was that the unique aspect of the causal impression was the fact that it conveyed, from within its own self, the character of productivity or efficacy.34 The notion of production, power, or efficacy was essential to the causal impression. In short, Hume's armchair contention that we cannot have a causal impression, consisting of productivity, is at odds with the facts of common experience, and with those of the rigidly controlled experimental situation. We can have a perception of causation, where causation is viewed as production. Indeed, the

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psychological fact that we possess a causal impression serves to strengthen—though not prove, since the issue is conceptual, not psychological—the position that causation must be viewed as production. THE CAUSE AS THE NECESSARY AND SUFFICIENT CONDITIONS If causation is to be viewed in terms of production, several things follow. First of all, when one thing is observed to produce a particular thing, certain conditions are deemed to be essential or necessary, others accidental or extraneous. In lighting a match, the presence of oxygen, a head of such and such a composition, dryness of the match head, friction, and so forth, are all deemed essential. Other contemporaneous conditions such as the color of the match, the time of day or day of week, and the style of my clothes are all extraneous conditions. In other words, in order for a certain event to occur, among the totality of possible conditions certain conditions must exist; there must be a set of necessary conditions. Secondly, unless all the necessary conditions are present, that particular effect will not occur. If even one necessary condition is not present, the effect in question will not occur. In other words, they must not only be necessary conditions; they must likewise be sufficient to produce the effect. Thus, we can analyze causality in terms of production, where the cause of an effect is the set of conditions individually necessary and jointly sufficient for the production of the effect. With this analysis of causation in hand, a reply can be made to William Alston's objection, quoted at the outset of the chapter. On the one hand, it is not unreasonable to demand that there be a totality of conditions necessary and sufficient to produce an effect; this is not to make an impossible demand upon the universe. Indeed, the universe demands such to be the case if a particular effect is to occur. Neither is the issue so rock-bottom that we have two opposing viewpoints "about which nothing further can be said." Rather, a proper analysis of causation entails that the cause consist of this totality of conditions; analyses in terms of constant conjunction and covering

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laws are insufficient to fully account for causation. What is it to be a cause? We have shown, I trust, that the answer must be, "the totality of conditions individually necessary and jointly sufficient to produce the effect in question." If this be the case, then we have an answer to the question about the nature of explanation. What is it to explain an event or effect? Is it sufficient to merely give the preceding event? Clearly not. Is it adequate to merely state the relevant conditions required to produce the effect? Again, the answer must be in the negative. Adequate philosophical explanation, it seems, must be in terms of the totality of conditions necessary and sufficient to produce the effect in question. No other analysis of explanation is philosophically adequate. Thus, the cosmological argument, as a philosophical argument, is justified in appealing to this notion of explanation. *

«

*

Before we conclude this chapter, two final points should be made. First of all, it is not necessary to know all the conditions involved in the production of an effect for the effect to occur. We must be careful to distinguish between the epistemological question of how we know the conditions, and the ontological question concerning the nature of causation in terms of these conditions. That in most cases we do not know all (or even many) of these conditions entails nothing about the existence or necessity of there being such conditions. Our contention in this chapter, and indeed elsewhere in this book, is not that we know all the conditions; rather, it is simply that a proper analysis of the nature of causation requires us to conclude that such must be there, that there must be conditions sufficient to produce such an effect. Finally, what of our common use of "cause"? When we speak about the cause of an effect, we usually deem it sufficient to list one or two, or, at most, several conditions. These conditions, then, we call the cause. For example, why did the bridge collapse? Because the cable snapped. Why did the match light? Because it was dry. We designate the broken cable and the dry matchhead as the cause of the effect; we do not

Causation

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appeal to an indeterminate number of conditions to explain such. Why, then, force ourselves philosophically to speak about such? The answer, I believe, is to be found in the distinction between two senses of "cause." The first sense is the abbreviated sense of unsophisticated, common usage, where we designate those relevant, immediate, and observable conditions as the cause. This sense enables us to quickly identify the major participants in the event But one should not take this common usage as an analysis of what is meant by the term "cause." "Cause" in this second sense is the philosophical notion of cause, i.e. where a full explication of what it means to be a cause is asked for, and where we have given our answer in terms of the totality of necessary conditions involved. Both senses are clearly legitimate in their appropriate spheres. Our concern, in this book, is with the second sense; this is the sense involved in the cosmological argument, for the argument is truly a philosophical argument. NOTES 1. William P. Alston, Religions Belief and Philosophical Thought (New York, Harcourt, Brace and World, 1963), p. 20. 2. David Hume, Treatise on Human Nature (Oxford, The Clarendon Press, 1888), p. 75. 3. Ibid., p. 77. 4. Ibid., p. 157. 5. Ibid., p. 166. 6. Ibid., p. 165. 7. Ibid., p. 157. 8. Ibid., p. 161. 9. Richard Taylor, Action and Purpose (Englewood Cliffs, N.J., Prentice-Hall, 1966), p. 36. 10. Ibid., p. 38. 11. Richard Bevan Braithwaite, Scientific Explanation (New York, Harper and Row, 1953), p. 10. 12. Bertrand Russell, Our Knowledge of the External World, (New York, W. W. Norton and Co., 1929), p. 239. 13. Stephen Toulmin, The Philosophy of Science (New York, Harper and Brothers, 1960), p. 123. 14. Braithwaite, op. cit., p. 2.

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The Cosmalogical

Argument

15. Ibid., p. 293. 16. Ibid., p. 9. 17. Ibid., p. 11. 18. Ibid., p. 10. 19. "Nomic" for him means "a necessary connection because it is a law." A nomic generalization, which can be deduced from higher laws, is to be distinguished from mere generalization by simple enumeration {Ibid., p. 293). 20. Ibid., p. 320. 21. For Braithwaite, causal laws are a subclass of the laws of nature; they are natural laws which involve temporal conditions (Ibid., pp. 308309). Laws of nature are to be distinguished from mere generalizations by simple enumeration in that the hypothesis expressing them "occurs in an established scientific deductive system as a higher-level hypothesis containing theoretical concepts or that it occurs in an established scientific deductive system as a deduction from higher-level hypotheses which are supported by empirical evidence for the hypothesis itself" (Ibid., pp. 301302). Therefore causal laws are inductive generalizations from instances of constant conjunction, which find their place in the hypothetical-deductive system, in that (1) they can be deduced from higher laws; (2) they are indirectly supported by evidence for other laws; and (3) they involve a temporal relation, in terms of priority, between events. 22. Richard McKeon (Ed.), Physics, The Basic Works of Aristotle (New York, Random House, 1941), Bk. 2, Ch. 3, 194b*.. 23. John Locke, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, Bk. II, Ch. 26, sec. 1. 24. Albert Michotte, The Perception of Causality, trans, by T. R. and Elaine Miles (London, Methuen and Co., 1963), p. 227. 25. Hume, op. cit., p. 77. v 26. Taylor, op. cit., p. 39. 27. Hume, op. cit., p. 161. 28. Michotte, op. cit., p. 225. 29. I am using "object" here in a phenomenal sense. Since Michotte, in his experiments, used illusions produced by mechanical arrangements, it was not the case that there were really any objects as such involved. However, the experiments were set up so as to give the appearance of one object acting on another. 30. Michotte, op. cit., p. 87. 31. Ibid., p . 15, note 20. 32. Ibid., p. 15. 33. Ibid., p. 223. 34. Ibid., pp. 221-222.

Chapter 3

THE PRINCIPLES OF CAUSATION AND SUFFICIENT REASON chapter we attempted to show that a proper analysis of "cause" was in terms of necessary and sufficient conditions. To ask for the cause of something is to ask for the necessary and sufficient conditions required for one object to produce a change in another. But the cosmological argument does more than contend simply for a particular analysis of "cause"; it also contends for the necessity of the causal relation. That is, given the existence of any contingent being, that being must be caused, either by itself or by another being. It cannot be uncaused. Accordingly, the argument presupposes the principle of causation: every contingent being must have a cause. But is the causal principle a necessarily true principle? That is, is it necessary that every contingent being have a cause? That it is not necessarily true was the contention of the father of much of today's empiricism, David Hume. He argued that not every event or contingent being necessarily has a cause, for since we can conceive of an effect separable and distinct from a productive cause without any contradiction, and since what is conceivable is possible in reality, they can possibly exist separately in reality. If this is the case, then that the principle of causation is necessary is demonstrably false. But if this principle is false, then there is no necessity that a contingent being have a cause, and consequently no necessity that there exist a necessary being. If the contingent being can be uncaused, then it is unnecessary to search for its necessary cause in anything; it can be sufficient in and of itself. Thus, to deny the principle of causation is to effectively destroy the cosmological argument: it is to say that contingent beings need not be caused, and that there is no necessity that one search for such a cause as a necessary being. A N THE PRECEDING

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The Cosmological

Argument

The cosmological argument also involves a second principle, namely the principle of sufficient reason: for every event or being there must be a sufficient reason, i.e. a set of necessary and sufficient conditions. This principle claims that the world is orderly and reasonable, that a sufficient reason can in principle1 be presented for every event or being. As Langdon Gilkey puts it, The procession of the proof requires . . . that the universe as a whole is known with certainty to exhibit rational coherence. Coherence in this sense means that, when our minds require explanations, it can likewise be assumed that reality as well requires an explanatory cause; and correspondingly, when our minds are satisfied, then we assume that this satisfaction in us is a sign reflecting the real coherence of objective things. 2

The cosmological argument, in claiming that only a necessary being, and not an infinite series of contingent beings, can fully account for the existence of a contingent being, is invoking this principle of sufficient reason. But to some philosophers the universe is not orderly, not given to sufficient reasons or full accounts. Rather, it is absurd. Gilkey continues, quoting Camus, "Thought, to be sure, may require that there be explanations, that the universe be coherent to our thought and responsive to our search for intelligibility. But in fact the universe is not at all thus intelligible —it is absurd in the precise sense that what our spirits require of it is exactly what it fails to manifest. The order that thought requires is merely a human cry flung out at a dark, unfeeling, irrational mystery which neither knows nor heeds such requirements." If one says that, then the movement from the apparent unintelligibility of things without God to the positing of God "to save the coherence" has no ground or legitimacy. 3

Modern thought, at least in some quarters, affirms the absurdity and irrationality of the universe, an affirmation which, if true, would destroy the validity of the cosmological argument in that it denies that there need be a sufficient reason for the existence of contingent beings. Thus, we have two principles, both of which are essential to the validity of the cosmological argument, but which likewise

The Principles Of Causation And Sufficient Reason

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come under critical scrutiny. In dealing with these two principles in this chapter, we have three goals. First, we shall show how these two principles are related to each other. Secondly, we shall evaluate Hume's critique of the causal principle, to discover whether or not his objection against the necessity of that principle can be sustained. And finally, we shall attempt to present cogent arguments in defense of these two important principles. Ultimately, we hope to show that to ask for a sufficient reason is to ask, not for something unreasonable, but for that which is warranted by the very nature of reality. RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE TWO PRINCIPLES It will facilitate further consideration of these two essential principles if we first of all clarify in what way they are related to one another. Even a cursory analysis will reveal that they are clearly related. If one defines "cause" as we have done, as the totality of necessary and sufficient conditions required for one object to produce changes in another, the cause becomes the sufficient reason for the effect. That is, when one observes that a contingent being has a cause, he is claiming that this being has for its existence sufficient conditions of a particular kind, namely, conditions which are causes. And since these conditions can likewise suffice or function as reasons for the existence of that being or occurrence of that event, causes are reasons. For example, one might say that the causes of a match lighting are oxygen, friction on the matchhead, sulphur, and so forth. These conditions are sufficient to bring about the effect of fire. But these conditions likewise function as answers to the request, "Give the reasons why the match lit." As such, these conditions function both as reasons and as causes; or stated differently, causes are likewise reasons for the existence of a being or the occurrence of an event. Are the two principles then identical? An affirmative answer would imply two things. First, it would mean that both principles have the same sphere of reference; secondly, it would imply that there is no difference between reasons and causes. Both of these, I think, would be wrongheaded.

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With respect to the first, the two principles do not have entirely the same sphere of reference. The principle of causation applies only to beings which are capable of being caused. We cannot apply this principle to beings which by their very nature cannot be caused, as for example, non-contingent beings. To extend the principle to cover such would invalidate the principle from the outset. For a being to be contingent means that if it exists, it could just as well not have existed as existed. "Contingent," with respect to existents, means "could conceivably not have been." As we shall argue below, from this definition one can demonstrate that to be contingent is to be caused; that which is contingent is by nature caused. Hence, if we applied the causal principles to all beings, both contingent and non-contingent, the resulting principle would be that "all beings, including those by nature capable of being caused as well as those by nature incapable of being caused, must have a cause," which is plainly false. The principle can only apply meaningfully to things which are capable of being caused. Hence, the principle is properly formulated: "All contingent beings must have a cause." This, of course, should not be construed as circular reasoning, for first of all we have not defined "contingent" as "caused." The fact that contingent beings can be (and are) caused is derived from an analysis of what it is to be contingent; it is not part of the definition of "contingent." Secondly, such a statement about the sphere of reference of the principle, viz. noting that it applies only to beings capable of being caused, does not guarantee the truth of the principle. It does not make it true by definition. The reference of the principle is to things capable of being caused; the statement concerning reference makes no claim as to the truth of the principle. Whether or not all beings capable of being caused are in fact caused still has to be determined. Determination of the reference of the principle does not determine its truth. Though the principle of causation applies only to a limited class of beings, the principle of sufficient reason is so broad as to be meaningfully applied to all beings, contingent and noncontingent. All beings and events, according to this principle, must have a set of necessary and sufficient conditions for their


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existence. Contingent beings have their reason for existence outside themselves; non-contingent beings contain within themselves the reason for their existence. According to the principle, all beings must have a sufficient reason for their existence. From this, one can see that the two principles are not identical. Rather, the causal principle is a limited application of the principle of sufficient reason; it is applicable only to a limited sphere of things, namely to things capable of being caused. With respect to the second, there seems to be a difference between reasons and causes. To ask for the cause is to ask for the objective conditions which were individually necessary and jointly sufficient to produce a particular effect. The cause is the set of objective conditions on account of which something happened, which efficiently brought it into being. Reasons, on the other hand, can include not only conditions capable of producing an effect, i.e. conditions which are clearly the causes of the event, as for example in "The reason the tire went flat was because the nail punctured the inner tube," but also something which cannot be generally construed to be a cause, as for example in "He went to the store for a candy bar." The candy bar provides the reason, the purpose, for his trek; but surely the candy bar is not the efficient cause of such. The candy bar did not produce his journey. Thus, the reason given in this example can hardly be construed as the efficient cause of his going to the store. At best it records his purpose; in traditional terminology, it provides the final cause. But if we restrict the notion of cause to efficient cause, which is the only usage involved in the cosmological argument, there seems to be no good reason to designate such a purpose or reason as a cause. Hence, there seems to be a difference between reasons and causes, for whereas all causes are reasons (in that all causes give sufficient reasons for the existence of a being or the occurrence of an event), not all reasons are causes. Reasons can include such things as purposes, and ends to be achieved, as well as efficient causes. Accordingly, it can again be seen that the principle of causation is but a limited application of the principle of sufficient reason. In conclusion, then, the two principles are not identical.

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Rather, the one is a special case of the other. The principle of causation applies only to contingent beings, whereas the principle of sufficient reason applies to all beings, contingent and non-contingent. Granted this, let us now turn to an evaluation of these principles, to see whether they can be maintained as valid interpretations of the workings of reality. HUME'S CRITIQUE OF THE CAUSAL PRINCIPLE It is Hume's contention that the causal principle has been generally presupposed but is in reality neither an intuitive nor a demonstrably certain principle. And since, for Hume, necessary truths can only be obtained by intuition or demonstration, the principle is not necessarily true.4 Hume argues this as follows: Now that the latter proposition [that any thing can ever begin to exist without some production principle] is utterly incapable of demonstrative proof, we may satisfy ourselves, by considering, that as all distinct ideas are separable from each other, and as the ideas of cause and effect are evidently distinct, 'twill be easy for us to conceive any object to be non-existent this moment, and existent the next, without conjoining to it the distinct idea of a cause or productive principle. The separation, therefore, of the idea of a cause from that of a beginning of existence, is plainly possible for the imagination; and consequently the actual separation of these objects is so far possible, that it implies no contradiction nor absurdity.5

We might formalize Hume's argument in the following manner: 1. Whatever is distinguishable can be conceived to be separate from each other. 2. The cause and effect are distinguishable. 3. Therefore, the cause and effect can be conceived to be separate from each other. 4. Whatever is conceivable is possible in reality. 5. Therefore, the cause and effect can be separate from each other in reality. If premise 5 is true, then the causal principle is not only indemonstrable, but certainly not necessary; eveiy effect need not have a cause.


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"Distinguishable" and "Separable" Is Hume's argument valid? In the argument, premise 2 appears to be evidently true, while 3 follows logically from 1 and 2, and 5 from 3 and 4. This leaves premises 1 and 4 which we might question. Granting 4, if 1 cannot be established as true, then all that can be concluded from the argument is that the cause and effect can be distinguished in reality (from 2 and 4) which we would not want to deny, but which also would not prove Hume's thesis against the causal principle. Let us therefore direct our attention to premise I. What does Hume mean in premise 1 by "distinguishable" and "separable"? With respect to the former, he obviously does not mean "conceptually distinguishable." This can be seen from his disclaimer that, for example, the body and form, or color and form, of an object are distinguishable. 'Tis certain that the mind would never have dreamed of distinguishing a figure from the body figured, as being in reality neither distinguishable, nor different, nor separable. . . . Thus when a globe of white marble is presented, we receive only the impression of a white color disposed in a certain form, nor are we able to separate and distinguish the color from the form.6

But why are not the color and form distinguishable, whereas the cause and effect are? Hume's reason, I submit, is that we cannot have an impression of the color alone—it must also include the form—whereas we can have one impression of the cause and another of the effect. Thus, for Hume, the criterion for deciding whether two things are distinguishable or not is whether we can have two separate impressions of them. If we can have separate impressions, then they are distinguishable. Distinguishability, therefore, is determined in terms of the epistemological conditions required for knowing. On the other hand, what does Hume mean by "separable"? He obviously does not use it in the sense of being conceptually abstracted, as for example when we abstract (separate) in our mind a person's Roman nose from his face, or the flame from the roaring fire. That is, the separation he has in mind is not designative of an intellectual operation or state which has no

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real bearing on the nature of reality or on the dependence or independence of things. If he meant this, his argument would merely conclude that we could possibly abstract the cause from the cause-effect nexus, but that this abstraction would make no comment upon, would have no bearing on, the essential or real relationship of cause to effect. And quite obviously this kind of separation would say nothing about the causal principle, which concerns itself with this very relation. Rather, he means "separable" in a real or ontological sense. By saying that one thing is separable from another, he means to imply that one thing is such that it is or can be entirely independent of the other things. Separability is meant to comment upon the essential relation which one thing bears or might bear to another. Thus, when he denies that figure can be separable from a body, he means that they are essentially connected such that you cannot have one without the other.7 Accordingly, returning to Hume's argument and to premise 1, whenever we have two separate impressions, the objects (and their ideas) can exist independently of each other—they can be separate Hume's Confusion of Conditions Can Hume's claim, that whenever we can form two distinct impressions of things, these things can therefore be conceived as separate, be maintained? Let us look at the example of a plate which is of uniform thickness throughout and which is concave on one side and correspondingly convex on the other. Now, are concavity and convexity separable in an object of equal thickness throughout? Obviously, we can have two separate impressions of the two sides of the plate. When we look at one side of the plate we can have an impression of concavity, while when we look at the other side we can have an impression of convexity. These are separate impressions, coming at different times, neither of which includes the other. But can we really separate the convexity from the concavity? Or asked another way, Is the concave side really independent of the convex side? Let us suppose that we can slice off a layer of uniform thickness from the plate. What have we now but two plates, each of which is both concave and convex. Indeed, no matter how


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many times we perform this feat, if we maintain uniform thickness, we can never separate the concave from the convex in reality. It seems, then, that though concavity and convexity are distinguishable in that we can entertain two separate impressions with regard to the two different sides of the plate, in the real world the concavity is inseparable from the convexity in an item of uniform thickness. We can never have one without having the other. It seems, then, that the conclusion of Hume's argument can be shown, at least empirically, to be false; as shown by this example, it is not true that whatever is distinguishable is likewise separable. But what, in particular, is Hume's error? The answer, I believe, is that Hume seems to have confused two different conditions in premise 1. On the one hand, with respect to "distinguishability," we have those conditions which are necessary so that we may know the object. These requirements (e.g. the impressions of sensation) constitute what we will call the epistemological conditions. It is in respect to these conditions that Hume claims that we can know the effect without having any knowledge or impression of the cause, or that we cannot know the color without knowing the form. Thus, distinguishability is defined in terms of epistemological conditions. However, to state what conditions are necessary so that we may know an object is quite different from stating what is necessary for that object to exist. These latter conditions (which we will call the ontological conditions) are present and operate independently of any epistemological considerations. These are the conditions involved in separability. Hume, when he claims that whatever is distinguishable is separable, or that one thing can be conceived to be separate from another because we can have two different impressions, identifies the ontological conditions with the epistemological ones. But the fact that we can have an impression of something independent of all else is not to say that this is the way it is in reality, i.e. that the referent of the impression can possibly be independent of all else. Hume's assumption that the epistemological conditions are the ontological conditions constitutes a confusion of two very different conditions.

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The difference between these two conditions can be brought out by using the example of a moving car. On one hand, we need know nothing other than the moving car in order to know this car; all that is required is the sense impression of a moving auto. But that is not to say that this car can move independently of any cause. Indeed, we would want to say that one of the necessary conditions for the auto to move would be that there be gasoline present in the fuel line. Now whereas gasoline is a condition for the car to move (i.e. an ontological condition), it certainly is not a condition of our knowledge of the moving vehicle (i.e. it is not an epistemological condition). This simple example shows that we have two very different conditions here and that they should not be confused or equated. But it is this confusion which Hume seems to make, and which therefore invalidates his proof that the causal principle is neither demonstrable nor necessary. The assumption that the ontological conditions are the same as the epistemological conditions lies at the core of his claim that premise 1 is true. For in 1 he decides the ontological situation in terms of the epistemological (distinguishability). But my contention is that premise 1 is not true, that not everything which is distinguishable can be conceived to be separate. Indeed, it could be true only upon the confusion of these two different conditions. Thus, Hume has not shown that the causal principle is neither demonstrable nor necessary, for his argument seems to rest on a confusion of two very different conditions. Rather, all that Hume's argument can show is that the cause and effect can be distinguished in reality, a claim which, though true, is in no way detrimental to the causal principle. Therefore, the fact that we can know the cause and effect separately does not mean that the effect could ever be separate in reality from the cause, that we can have an effect without there being a cause. Thus, the causal principle does not appear to be in any danger, at least from Hume. THE NECESSITY OF THE CAUSAL PRINCIPLE To refute a purported disproof of a doctrine does not at the same time constitute a proof of that doctrine. A positive de-


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fense is still called for. Two very different kinds of arguments can be given in order to establish the necessity of the causal principle; to these let us now turn our attention. On one hand, we can regard the causal principle not so much as a principle but as a conclusion arrived at by a rigorous demonstration. That is, the causal principle can be arrived at by deduction from true premises; it is demonstrably true. The demonstration proceeds as follows. The causal principle, as we noted above, does not apply to all beings, but only to contingent beings; all contingent beings have a cause. What is it to be a contingent being? A being is contingent if it could conceivably not be. That is, a contingent being is one which, if it exists, could just as well not have existed as existed. There was no logical or real necessity that it exist. Accordingly, beings which are contingent do not have their existence intrinsic to their nature. Existence does not belong to them as an essential feature of their nature, but rather as accidental to their essence. Only if their nature were such that, if they existed, they could not be nonexistent, would their existence be essential to their nature. But this is to be a necessary, not a contingent, being. Hence, premise one: All contingent beings have their existence accidental to their essence. Proceeding further, what does it mean for the existence of a being to be accidental to its nature? It is part of the nature of an accident that it is dependent; if an accident were not dependent, but independent, it would no longer be an accident, but a substance, something capable of existing in and of itself. Thus, that which is accidental is dependent upon something; it is either caused by the principle of its own nature, or else by something other than itself. Since to be the efficient cause of itself is absurd, it must be dependent on something other than itself. Thus, that which has its existence as accidental to it must be dependent on something else for its existence. Thus, premise two: That which has its existence accidental to its essence derives its existence from something. The conclusion of the syllogism plainly follows: All contingent beings derive their existence from something, that is,

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all contingent beings are caused. That the causal principle is necessary, then, can be demonstrated through the conceptual analysis of the relation of existence to essence in contingent beings in premise one, through the analysis of what it is to be accidental to something in premise two, and finally through the syllogism resulting from these premises.8 As such, we have here a demonstration that the causal principle is a true and necessary principle. One might object to the above demonstration by posing the following dilemma. Either premise two, in using "dependent," is itself a causal proposition or not. If it is a causal proposition, the question of the necessary truth of the principle of causation is itself begged by the very proof. We have used a causal proposition to show that contingency implies being caused. But this causal proposition itself presupposes that every contingent being (a being which has its existence accidental to its essence) has a cause. Hence we cannot use this argument to prove in turn the causal principle. On the other hand, if it is not a causal proposition, then the notion of dependency involved is not a causal notion. That is, the notion of dependency involved in the substance/accident relation is a relation of inherence. For example, the accident red depends on, or inheres in, the substance paint. But paint does not cause the accident red. However, if the notion of dependency is not a causal notion but one of inherence, then either the conclusion to the syllogism is not a causal proposition, or we have equivocated on the notion of dependency, which likewise invalidates the conclusion. In premise two we have made dependence a relation of inherence while in the conclusion it is a relation of causation. Either way, the critic will contend, the syllogism is not as sound as it might first appear. Clearly, the second horn of the dilemma must be denied; the notion of dependency in premise two must be a causal notion. Joseph Owens, in dealing with this, points out that there are two kinds of accidental relations.9 The one, which he calls a predicamental accident, is an accident which inheres in a substance. Red, square, laughing are predicamental accidents. This type of accident is subsequent to the substance or essence.


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That is, these qualities or properties arise from and are subsequent to the nature of an object. The other sense of "accident" is that in which the accident is prior to its nature. Priority here means dependence on something other than its own essence, that is, the accident arises not from its own nature but from something other than it. As such, it is contemporaneous with its essence, and not inherent in it. Applying this distinction to premise two, we can see that the existence referred to as accidental must be accidental in the second sense. Existence does not arise from the being itself; the being is not the efficient cause of itself. If such were the case, the absurdity would result that something not in existence brought itself into existence; hence, it is dependent on something other than itself for its existence. Its existence is (logically) prior to itself or its essence. Consequently, the relation of dependence in the case of existence is not that of inherence (accident in sense one), but dependence on something else as the cause of it (accident in sense two). Thus in premise two, "dependence" is not being used in the sense of inherence, but in the sense of being caused. Does this then mean that we have begged the question in premise two? Does the second premise, as a causal proposition, presuppose the causal principle? The answer, I think, is no. To say that an analysis of what it is to be an accident involves essentially the fact that it is dependent upon something is not to involve the causal principle. It does involve the notion of causation or dependency, but it does not presuppose the principle that all contingent beings have a cause. Indeed, the whole conception of contingency is absent from premise two. One can find it there only if one defines "accident" in terms of contingency, which we have not done. The causal principle enters in only when the two premises are brought together in the conclusion. The appearance of begging the question is due, I think, to the type of thing that a syllogism is. To know the two premises is, in effect, to know the concluding statement. But if we know the conclusion already, do we need a demonstration at all? Why demonstrate that which we already know? The answer

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is that in a sense we do know the conclusion, and in a sense we do not. We know it if we have already performed the mental function of syllogistic reasoning. That is, if we have mentally compared the two premises, seen the middle term, and accordingly conjoined the subject of one with the predicate of the other, we already know the concluding statement. But this is already to have performed the syllogistic reasoning in question. We did not know prior to such mental reasoning that the subject and predicate were compatible so as to form a true statement, unless the conclusion was already a part of our experience. In other words, the charge that syllogistic reasoning is uninformative, or that one of the premises begs the question—as here with respect to the demonstration of the causal principle—stems, I think, from a failure to recognize that when this seems to be the case, it is because we have already performed the required mental syllogism. Such, I think, is the source of the objection here with respect to the demonstration of the causal principle. Taking this into consideration, one can avoid the critic's posed dilemma and hold that the causal principle can be demonstrated. One can also defend the causal principle on grounds entirely different from that just presented, namely on the grounds that it is a basic principle of the universe. It is not a principle for which one can give a demonstration; it is too basic a principle for that. Rather, it is known by human reason to be intuitively true. The evidence for this contention that it is a fundamental principle can be found in the procedures of human reasoning itself. The natural procedure of the intellect is to search for the causes of the effects or events with which the intellect is presented. Given the effect, it asks "What is the cause?" The intellect will not rest contented with the mere fact that something happened. It has a drive to pass on to discover the causes of that being or event. The plane crashed. But why? we find ourselves asking. The baby died. Again, why? Built within us is the dissatisfaction with mere facts; there is the continual urging to uncover the causes of those facts. This dissatisfaction is


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evidence that this principle is a foundational principle of human reason. But even more than this, our entire intellectual approach to the world is based on the contention that for any being or event, there must be a cause. One can observe this principle as a working procedure in almost any discipline, whether it be the sciences or humanities. The continual search for causes is at the heart of their procedural method; they presuppose, without questioning it, that their witnessed events must have causes. Frederick Copleston puts the point in terms of the operations of the scientist: I cannot see how science could be conducted on any other assumption than that of order and intelligibility in nature. The physicist presupposes, at least tacitly, that there is some sense in investigating nature and looking for the causes of events, just as the detective presupposes that there is some sense in looking for the cause of a murder. The metaphysician assumes that there is sense in looking for the reason or cause of the phenomena, and . . . I consider that the metaphysician is as justified in his assumption as the physicist.10

The causal principle, then, can be viewed as an intuitively known truth about reality, necessitated by our rational attempt to understand the world. Without such a basic assumption, scientific and metaphysical analysis of reality would be impossible. As such, the principle is a necessary truth about the world; it records how the world must necessarily be if we are to rationally comprehend it. The objection has been raised by no less a person than Bertrand Russell that this is not the case, for often we cannot discover the causes of a being or event. There are some things for which we just do not have an explanation. Hence, we can conceive of events or beings without any cause. But this objection is beside the point. It is not a question of being able to discover a cause for every effect. As of yet, the scientist has not discovered the cause of cancer. But this is not to say that cancer has no cause. The necessity of the causal principle is not dependent upon our ability to discover each and every condition necessary for the bringing about of a certain effect. Rather, it is evidenced by the fact that, if we do

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not know those conditions, we make a relentless search to uncover and disclose those causes. A much more serious objection to this line of reasoning has been raised that though such a principle might indeed hold for the rational sphere of human endeavors, this in no way entails that such a principle adequately reflects the actual operations of the universe. It is one thing to assert that the question "why?" is essential to intellectual endeavors, and that it is as such an appropriate question to ask concerning things which are capable of being caused. But by what right can we extend this principle of the mind to reality? Are we not restricted to saying that this principle is operative solely in the sphere of human reason? Two replies might be made to this line of reasoning. On one hand, defenders of this principle can point to the pragmatic success which the application of this principle in the sciences has had. The principle does indeed work; the search for causes has been the backbone of scientific research. If the principle did not apply to reality, could any endeavor, like science, which rests on this principle yet at the same time claims to be empirical, be successful? On the other hand, the objection appears to attempt to drive a wedge between thought and reality, between the principles according to which human reason interprets its world and the principles according to which the world operates. But must we not operate on the assumption that the mind can know reality, that principles evolved by the mind correspond with reality? I believe that Aristotle's contention that the categories of the mind reflect, indeed are derived from, reality is the core assumption of any attempt to understand our world, whether it be science, philosophy, or whatever. Without such a belief, human intellectual endeavors become nothing more than a charade, a ghostly dance in the ethereal realm. This should not be taken to be an assertion of naive realism. We are not claiming that reality is always precisely the way we perceive it to be. Neither are we contending for a particular analysis of the epistemological situation, except to exclude those analyses based on an open or tacit denial of this contention. The point here is simply that unless there be a basic corres-


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pondence between the concepts evolved by human reason and the principles according to which extra-mental reality operates, the former, insofar as they are put forth as informative or descriptive of reality, are ultimately useless, if not meaningless. If mental constructs purport to inform us about reality, but in point of fact never can or never do, what function can they serve? Certainly not the function for which they are intended. They might constitute interesting intellectual gymnastics or be viewed as wonderfully imaginative creations of the human mind, but this does not enable us to better understand our world. In other words, any claim of the intellect to comprehend and interpret reality must operate on the basis that the principles or categories or concepts which it evolves must correspond with reality. In conclusion, then, there appear to be two very different kinds of arguments in support of the contention that the causal principle is necessarily true. The one attempts to demonstrate such; the other regards the causal principle as a necessary presupposition of an orderly attempt to understand our world. The former, of course, is the stronger of the two positions. The claim that it is a presupposition of a rational approach to the world weakens the principle insofar as basic presuppositions are harder to defend and more open to question than are demonstrative proofs. If a principle is basic, a defense will often do nothing more than assume that principle. Yet, should the above demonstration be in error—though at this point I do not believe it is—the defender of the principle of causation can fall back upon the claim that the principle is a presupposition of reason. The conclusion of both arguments is the same: the causal principle is a necessary principle. It is necessary either as the conclusion of a deductive argument, or it is necessary as a basic principle of the intellect and the world. But either way, all contingent beings must have a cause. THE NECESSITY OF THE PRINCIPLE OF SUFFICIENT REASON When we come to the principle of sufficient reason, the same arguments given in support of the causal principle can be found to be applicable to a defense of it. How is this possible?

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First of all, it is possible to distinguish two varieties of the principle of sufficient reason. The first form, which is the strong form of the principle, is the form which we presented in the first section, namely, that there is a sufficient reason for all beings and events. However, we may also note a weaker form of this same principle, namely, a form which states that there is a sufficient reason for all contingent beings. This weaker form leaves open the question whether or not there is a sufficient reason for non-contingent beings as well; it simply states that there must be a sufficient reason for all contingent beings. The question now arises as to which form is necessary to maintain the cosmological argument. The answer, I believe, is that it is the weaker form, and not the stronger. In the cosmological argument we are not concerned with whether or not we can give a sufficient reason for a non-contingent being. Indeed, at the outset of the argument there are grave doubts that such a being exists. Rather, the argument attempts to provide the sufficient reason for all contingent beings. Thus, our principle need only be formulated in the weaker sense; in order to maintain the cosmological argument we need only a principle of sufficient reason which states that there must be sufficient reason for all contingent beings. But this weaker form of the principle of sufficient reason is the same as the principle of causation, namely, that for every contingent being there must be a set of necessary and sufficient conditions. As such, it can be shown to be necessary with the same deductive argument as was used above to demonstrate necessity of the principle of causation, which is as follows: 1. All contingent beings have their existence accidental to their essence. 2. That which has its existence accidental to it is dependent on something for its existence. 3. To be dependent is to be caused, i.e. to have a set of necessary and sufficient conditions for it. 4. Therefore, all contingent beings have a set of necessary and sufficient conditions for themselves. Thus the weaker form of the principle of sufficient reason, the form necessary to the validity of the cosmological argu-


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ment, can be defended on the same demonstrative grounds as were used to defend the principle of causation. One can also defend the weaker form of the principle of sufficient reason in a way similar to that developed above with respect to the causal principle, namely on the grounds that it is a basic and intuitive principle of human reasoning. Like the principle of noncontradiction, the principle of sufficient reason is a basic principle of the universe. One cannot hope to prove the truth of the principle without at the same time assuming it to be true. Likewise, one cannot develop arguments (sufficient reasons) against the principle, one cannot criticize a given proof of the principle as being insufficient or inadequate, without at the same time assuming as true the very principle held in question. It is a presupposition which we are forced to make when we attempt to approach the world rationally. In writing about the theistic arguments and this principle, Richard Taylor notes that it is a datum which must be accepted; it is a presupposition of reason itself. He writes, The principle of sufficient reason can be illustrated in various ways, as we have done, and if one thinks about it, he is apt to find that he presupposes it in his thinking about reality, but it cannot be proved. It does not appear to be itself a necessary truth, and at the same time it would be most odd to say it is contingent. If one were to try proving it, he would sooner or later have to appeal to considerations that are less plausible than the principle itself. Indeed, it is hard to see how one could even make an argument for it, without already assuming it. For this reason it might properly be called a presupposition of reason itself. One can deny that it is true, without embarrassment or fear of refutation, but one is apt to find that what he is . denying is not really what the principle asserts. We shall then, treat it here as datum — not something that is provably true, but as something which all men, whether they ever reflect upon it or not, seem more or less to presuppose.11

In other words, the principle of sufficient reason is a basic, indemonstrable, necessary principle of human reasoning. Therefore, as with the causal principle, there appear to be two very different kinds of arguments to support the contention that the principle of sufficient reason is necessary. The one attempts to demonstrate such by means of a deductive argu-

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ment; the other regards the principle as a necessary presupposition, an indemonstrable principle, of human reason. And as with the causal principle, the former provides the stronger position for the defense of the principle. Yet should the demonstration be found faulty by future analysis, the defender of the principle can fall back upon the claim that the principle is a basic presupposition of human reason, for the conclusion of both arguments is the same: the principle of sufficient reason is a necessary principle. CONCLUSION What then can be said to Camus' objection, quoted at the beginning of this chapter, that though thought may require the principle of sufficient reason, the universe does not respond in any intelligible fashion, but rather absurdly? This profound attempt to separate thought and reality must be viewed with great suspicion. On one hand, its result is to take the intellect out of nature. The human reason becomes an isolated element, antithetical to, indeed at enmity with, nature. For the existentialist, nature is true being, mind is non-being. Absurdity, frustration, angst, all are a result of the impetuous desire of the mind to become what it can never be, i.e. being-itself. But can the human being be so abstracted from, so cut off from, nature? Whether one accepts the creationist or evolutionary metaphysic, both make the same claim: man is intrinsically a part of nature. Thus, to denaturalize the intellect is to denaturalize man, for part of the essence of man, his differentia, is his ability to conceptualize. And to remove man from his world is to preclude the possibility of his finding satisfaction. It is to force the existentialist's absurdity on to man. Hence, far from describing the human situation, by separating the intellect from nature they have thrust a strong intellectual predicament on man. Only by putting man back into his proper place in nature can this imposed predicament be resolved. On the other hand, Camus' position proffers two sets of categories. There are those categories according to which the mind operates, and there are others according to which nature functions. These two sets are disparate. For example, Camus


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contends that the mind operates according to the principle of sufficient reason and that nature does not. But with this radical disjunction of principles, how can he claim to know what the principles of nature are, especially that they are different from those of human reason? On what basis can he make the claim that they are not the same as the principles of the intellect? Such a pretension is impossible, for the implication of his position must be that we cannot know those principles of nature. Otherwise, reasoning man would have already adopted these principles as the principles of his own reasoning. If he knows the principles of reality, man will surely attempt to encompass them in his own thought. Camus' position, at best, leads to subjectivism; what we know are the principles of the intellect through which the world is filtered. Or as Kant puts it, the phenomena we know; the noumena we postulate about. But is this an adequate basis on which to do philosophy, science, or anything else? Must we not operate on the assumption that the mind can know reality? And must we not likewise assume that the principles of reality can become the principles of the human intellect, that the principles evolved throughout the history of the human mind correspond with reality? Such an assumption, I believe, is at the heart of every serious endeavor to come to grips with our world. Finally, the above arguments for the necessity of the principles of causation and sufficient reason must be taken seriously. If one can present a cogent defense of these principles, as we have attempted to do, the burden of disproof rests on those who refuse to accept them. One can, of course, even in the face of demonstrations, embrace absurdity. But then one cannot rationally defend such a position; one cannot simultaneously deny and accept the dictates of reason. Absurdity must then be accepted as an item of intuition or faith. But the cosmological argument appeals to man as a rational being, noting that it is on this level that philosophical man operates. On this level one must face these demonstrations as genuine attempts to rationally defend the principles of order and intelligibility in the universe. Our conclusion in this chapter must be that these principles are necessarily true.

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NOTES 1. It is important to emphasize the fact that this is the case in principle, though in fact we may not be able to perform such a task. But what results from our finitude, our epistemological condition, does not determine the ontological situation with respect to what is required for something to be a cause. Pragmatically we operate with a finite set of conditions; but as we argued in Chapter 1, a complete set is necessary to bring about the effect. 2. Langdon Gilkey, Naming the Whirlwind: The Renewal of GodLanguage (Indianapolis, Bobbs-Merrill, 1969), p. 221. 3. Ibid., pp. 221-222. 4. David Hume, Inquiry Concerning Human Understanding (Indianapolis, Bobbs-Merrill, 1955), p. 40. 5. David Hume, Treatise on Human Nature (Oxford, The Clarendon Press, 1888), p. 79. 6. Ibid., p. 25. 7. Ibid., pp. 24-25. 8. See Joseph Owens, "The Causal Proposition — Principle or ConcIusionF' Modern Schoolman, XXXII (1955), pp. 159-171, 257-270, 323339, for a more detailed presentation of this argument. 9. Ibid., p. 335f. 10. Frederick Copleston and Bertrand Russell, "A Debate on the Existence of God." In John Hick (Ed.), The Existence of God (New York, Macmillan, 1964), p. 177. 11. Richard Taylor, Metaphysics (Englewood Cliffs, N. J., PrenticeHall, 1963), pp. 86-87.

Chapter 4

CAN PROPOSITIONS BE INFORMATIVE AND NECESSARY SIMULTANEOUSLY? N THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS we have developed a particular analysis of the causal principle. On one hand, we have contended that this principle informs us about the real world; to say that every contingent being has a cause is to say that there is a real cause discoverable for each and every contingent being or event in the objective world. Causation is a real, productive relation between objects; one object acts upon and produces changes in another. On the other hand, we have argued that the causal principle is necessary; every contingent being must have a cause. As such, we have contended for a principle that is both informative and necessarv; it informs us about a necessary relationship in the real world. But what kind of proposition would this principle be? Would it be analytic, synthetic, or what? Indeed, is it even possible to formulate a proposition which is both informative and necessary simultaneously? Is it not the case that the proposition which is necessary cannot be otherwise, whereas that which is informative about the world could be otherwise? How, then, can these two seemingly contradictory characteristics be reconciled in any one proposition? That there can be no proposition which is both necessary and informative about the world is the contention of many contemporary philosophers. For example, A. J. Ayer writes, "If empiricism is correct, no proposition which has factual content can be necessary or certain."1 J. J. C. Smart writes more recently, "No informative proposition can be logically necessary."2 A proposition can be either necessary or else a truth about the world, but not both. And this applies to the above-developed causal principle.

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The issue here is not that we have not shown what we claimed to show, namely, that the causal principle is both informative and necessary, but rather that such conditions, when found in a proposition, appear to be contradictory. And since there appears to be a contradiction in our results, there must be an error in our analysis. Thus, the issue here concerns whether and how a proposition can be informative and necessary at the same time. The attempt to discover an answer to this problem will be the subject of concern in this chapter. LOGICAL NECESSITY What do contemporary philosophers mean when they state that a proposition is necessary? What are the necessary and sufficient conditions for a proposition to be necessary? On one hand, the necessary condition is that the opposite of the proposition must imply a contradiction. If the negation of the proposition does not imply a contradiction, that is to say, if the opposite is perfectly possible or conceivable, then the proposition is not necessary but contingent. On the other hand, the sufficient condition for a proposition to be necessary is that it be necessary solely by virtue of the meanings of the terms which compose it and not by virtue of any state of affairs in the world. The contradiction which characterizes its opposite must be produced solely from a consideration of the logical principles and the definitions of the terms involved. Thus, for many philosophers a necessary proposition is a logically necessary proposition, one whose truth and necessity is determined solely on the basis of an analysis of the meanings of constituent terms and the stipulated logical rules for transformation of linguistic expressions. Accordingly, we shall designate this particular analysis of necessity as logical necessity. '"-y.;'.-'To illustrate this view, we might take A. J. Ayer's analysis of necessity as generally typical of this position. Ayer follows in the Kantian tradition by making necessity an essential characteristic of a priori propositions. If a proposition is (logically) necessary, it is a priori. What, then, is an a priori proposition? For Ayer, an a priori proposition is one which concerns only the "relations of ideas,"3 as opposed to matters of fact. That is,

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the truth of an a priori proposition is determined simply by an analysis of the meanings of the terms involved. It is true ex vi terminorum. Thus, a logically necessary proposition, such as an a priori proposition, is a proposition the contradiction of whose opposite is derived from the analysis of the meanings of the terms involved. From this it becomes immediately evident that logical necessity involves analyticity. For Ayer, an analytic proposition is one whose "validity depends solely on the definitions of the symbols it contains."4 The truth of an analytic proposition is decided on the basis of the meanings of the constituent terms; it is this which sets it apart from a synthetic proposition, whose "validity is determined by the facts of experience." Consequently, the sufficient condition (that they are true ex vi terminorum) for a proposition to be analytic is the same as the sufficient condition for a proposition to be logically necessary. Thus, we can say that a logically necessary proposition must be expressed in the form of an analytic proposition. Indeed, for Ayer a priori (necessary) propositions are "necessary and certain only because they are analytic."5 To be necessary is to be such that one's opposite implies a contradiction. Accordingly the opposite of a necessary proposition must be of the form A is non-A. If its opposite is of this form, then a necessary proposition must be of the form A is A. That is, a necessary proposition must be a tautology.6 But for Ayer, propositions which are tautologies are analytic. He writes, "I use the word 'tautology' in such a way that a proposition can be said to be a tautology if it is analytic."7 Therefore, all a priori (necessary ) propositions must be analytic. Moreover, for Ayer, neither analytic nor a priori propositions, since they are tautologies, are informative8 about matters of fact. They neither refer to matters of fact nor can be "confirmed or refuted by any facts of experience." They are devoid of any factual content and consequently say nothing whatsoever about the world. Thus, on the view of logical necessity, being necessary and being informative about the world are two incompatible properties of propositions. But though they are uninformative, though they simply

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The Cosmological

Argument

express tautologies, "we are not suggesting that they are senseless. . . . For although they give us no information about any empirical situation, they do enlighten us by illustrating the way in which we use certain symbols. . . . They call attention to linguistic usages, of which we might otherwise not be conscious."9 Though they add nothing to our knowledge of the world, they do reveal how our conventionally established language operates. Thus, finally, logical necessity involves a conventionalist view of language. It is a characteristic of logical necessity that it "merely reflects our use of words, the arbitrary conventions of language."10 Whether necessary propositions are true or false does not depend on reality, but rather on the conventions of our language, on our conventionally established symbolism. Analytic propositions "simply record our determination to use words in a certain way. We cannot deny them without infringing the conventions which are presupposed by our very denial."11 The truth of an analytic proposition is determined simply through an analysis of the meanings of the terms involved. But these terms are defined, not with reference to the nature of the referent, but simply on the basis of the conventions of linguistic usage. They are nominal definitions which express our decision as to how we should use a word. C. I. Lewis, stating a position which he later refutes, puts the issue with regard to analytic truth in this way: It may thus suggest itself that the ultimate ground of all analytic truth is to be found in definitive statements, together with rules of the transformation and derivation of linguistic expressions, such rules being themselves resultant from equivalences of definitions and conventions of synthetic usage. And to this it may be added that definitions also are merely conventions of the use of language; determined by decisions made at will concerning the equivalence of expressions. Thus it may appear that analytic truth in general expresses nothing beyond what is determined or determinable by conventions of linguistic usage But if any conception of this general sort be entertained, then analytic truth becomes viewed, commensurately, as relative to the content and structure of a system of language, erected according to rules of usage and of manipulation having, in the last analysis, no further basis than decisions made as we choose according to our purposes. 12


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Necessary truths are therefore determined to be true on the basis of Knguistic habit; they are in no way explicative of any necessity in the world. If they were explicative, then the doctrine of logical necessity would not stand, for we would have propositions which on one hand were informative, and on the other were necessary, for the proposition would not be true simply on the basis of the meanings of the terms involved, but since these terms were explicative of reality they would be true because of the way ^ reality was structured. But on the view of logical necessity, a proposition cannot be both necessary and informative at the same time; only those statements which are true in virtue of their concepts alone can be necessary. Consequently, logical necessity involves a conventionalist view of language; it is predicated of statements, the meanings of whose terms are conventionally established without reference to the nature of things. In conclusion, then, logical necessity is expressed by analytic a priori propositions, the meanings of whose constituent terms are established on the basis of a conventionalist view of language; necessity is a function of linguistic conventions about the meanings of words and the stipulated syntactical rules for their significant combination in sentences. Such propositions are necessary but uninformative, i.e. devoid of factual content about the world. A Reduction of Categories Ayer's theory of necessity is not without its difficulties. First of all, Ayer's way of solving the problem whether a proposition can be necessary and informative is much too easy. What he seems to have done is to define "analytic" and "a priori" in the same way, and from this to conclude that it is impossible (by definition) that there be any necessary proposition which is not analytic, i.e. which would be synthetic and a priori. To be a priori is to be necessary, i.e. to be such that one's opposite entails a self-contradiction determinable from an analysis of the meanings of the terms involved. To be analytic is to be true solely in virtue of the meanings of the symbols involved—hence the equivalence, and the corresponding impossibility of a non-

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analytic necessary truth. But solving the issue of the synthetic a priori in this fashion makes it true but quite trivial to say that all necessary propositions must be analytic; it is at best an empty victory. Moreover, by defining both terms in this way, he has reduced the category of analytic to the category of a priori, such that there is no difference between them. Both must then funcion as categories in the same way. But why then maintain two category names? Why not just eliminate one or the other? To utilize both is redundant. But certainly Kant, when he introduced this categorization, and succeeding philosophers, when they adopted such, have meant something different by these two categories. Ayer's confusion of the two can be cleared up if we remember that the one refers to the structure of propositions, while the other refers to the mode of verification of propositions. The analytic/synthetic distinction categorizes the form or structure of propositions. A proposition is analytic if and only if its negation leads to the form of an unobvious tautology, i.e. A is not-A, while the negation of a synthetic proposition does not lead to the form of A is not-A. The a priori/a posteriori distinction, on the other hand, characterizes the mode of verification of propositions. "To characterize a proposition as 'a priori' is to say nothing whatever about its formal structure, or the structure of its negation, or consequences derivable therefrom. It is, rather, to remark the mode whereby the truth of the proposition is discovered. A proposition is a priori if its truth is established without recourse to any possible experience."13 As such, one could discuss what kind of form or structure the proposition had (e.g. if it was of the form of an obvious or unobvious tautology) without having to decide how we would discover the truth of such. The consequence of this is that a proposition can be informative (synthetic) and necessary (a priori) at the same time. One can learn how a proposition is structured without directly entailing anything about its mode of justification. To establish that a proposition is synthetic is simply to establish that it is of the form or structure such that its opposite is not self-contradictory, is not of the form A is not-A. But this is quite


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another thing from establishing its mode of justification, i.e. discovering on what basis it is true. To be justified a priori is possible. In other words, to be necessary (a priori) a proposition need not be analytic. To be informative and necessary simultaneously is not a contradiction. Ayer's analysis, which endeavors to show this, is guilty of reducing to one category two very different categories. This, of course, is not to say that there actually are any propositions which are synthetic and a priori. Indeed, philosophers like Norwood Russell Hanson, who argue as we have just done, note that as far as they are concerned no such propositions have been brought forth, and it is unlikely that any genuine candidates will be forthcoming in the future. In other words, they agree with Ayer that all necessary propositions are analytic, though they disagree with his contention that they must be analytic. This is to say, however, that a synthetic (informative) a priori (necessary) proposition is a possibility, and not a contradiction of terms. Some contemporary philosophers, then, have held that propositions can be both informative and necessary, in that synthetic a priori propositions are possible. Whether this is a viable option for those who maintain the causal principle we shall have to evaluate in a later section. Confusing Use and Mention The above explanation of the system of categories presupposed by those who maintain that a contradiction is involved in the contention that a proposition can be informative and necessary points up even deeper difficulties than the ones just raised. Indeed, it introduces questions which strike at the very heart of their system of classification of propositions, and in particular, their view of analyticity. First of all, this system prevents any statement which is necessary from telling us anything about the world, about what things essentially are. In this theory all statements about what something essentially is are expressed by necessary propositions. But all logically necessary propositions, as expressed in analytic form, are tautologies. Their truth is established without reference to the real world; they are true

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in virtue of the principles of logic and the meanings of their terms. Accordingly, they have no real factual import; they are not informative about the real world. To say, for example, that man is necessarily a rational animal is to say nothing at all about the way men actually are, about real men and real rational animals, but simply to record our conventional usage of the word "man." It tells us only about our determination to use words in a certain way, not about the referent of these words. But this leads to the curious consequence that statements such as "man is a rational animal," which purport to inform us about the way things really and essentially are, actually tell us nothing about the real state of affairs. Necessary statements, which claim to be about what something is by nature, are really devoid of factual content. Thus, we have the paradoxical state of affairs that that statement which claims to tell us about the world actually cannot do so; it can only tell us about our concepts. And worse than this, it is not informative at all, but tautologous. This position, therefore, prevents a certain class of statements from fulfilling what they claim to be doing, i.e. from informing us as to the essential nature of the world. How, then, do we characterize statements which purport not only to tell us about the world but also to explain to us what something in the world really and essentially is and why it is what it is? How do we speak about what man really is? We want to say that man is something (a rational animal, for example), but we do not want this merely to characterize the way in which we use or have conventionally defined "man." Neither do we want to say that "man is a rational animal" is a trivial tautology. We want to say something about what man essentially is in reality, about what man is apart from and prior to any establishment of language, about the essences prior to and independent of their linguistic expression.14 And more than this, we want to speak concerning both reality and the necessity to be found in it, or better, the necessity in virtue of it. But the impossibility of both of these is precluded if logical necessity is the only kind of necessity and if statements which are characterized by such are analytic. The result of this view is that we cannot say anything about what something essentially or

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necessarily (due to the nature of the world) is. The reduction of real to logical necessity severely restricts us; it forecloses any attempt to say what is what. This analysis, therefore, seems to arbitrarily limit our speech about reality, and indeed, to lead to the paradox that statements which purport to inform us about the world actually can not do so. Secondly, we might ask, "What are necessary propositions about?" For the logical empiricist they are not about matters of fact. They are devoid of factual content; they are not about any actual thing. But if this is the case, are not analytic or necessary propositions meaningless? For a statement to be meaningful, "some possible sense-experience should be relevant to the determination of its truth or falsehood."15 Ayer, however, denies that this lack of factual content implies that they are senseless or meaningless. When we say that analytic propositions are devoid of factual content, and consequently that they say nothing, we are not suggesting that they are senseless in the way that metaphysical utterances are senseless. For, although they give us no information about any empirical situation, they do enlighten us by illustrating the way in which we use certain symbols. . . . An analytic proposition . . . records our determination [to use words in a certain way]. In other words, I am simply calling attention to the implications of certain linguistic usage. . . . And I am thereby indicating the convention which governs our usage of words. 16

/

Ayer's statement here seems to imply that analytic (necessary) propositions, since they are not meaningless and not about things in the world, are about our usage of words, about our linguistic habits. John Wisdom writes, "This is part of the explanation of the necessity of necessary statements. For such statements connect abstract things and are therefore purely verbal in a way in which 'He asserted Africa is hot' is not, that is, they are purely about the use of expressions they connect."17 However, this position seems to commit the fallacy of confusing use with mention. We may argue for this as follows. As we have noted, the claim is made that since the truth of necessary propositions can be determined simply on the basis of the meanings of the constituent terms and logical principles,

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such a statement must be informative, not about the facts in the world, but only about its own words or terms and how we use them. That is, they argue from the fact that in an analytic statement we can decide its truth or falsity simply on the basis of the concepts contained therein, to the claim that this statement itself informs us only about these words or concepts and not about the real objects which they are concepts of. But, as Henry Veatch points out in a most relevant article,18 the mere fact that I am making a particular statement by using certain words does not imply that this statement is about these words or concepts. To make such a claim confuses the logical characteristics of the proposition with the states of affairs in the real world which this proposition is about. In other words, such an argument confuses the use of the word with its mention. It is one thing to give an analysis of the logical and linguistic features of the proposition; we can clarify how the various words are related; we can show that we can derive the predicate concept by unpacking the subject concept. But this is a far cry from claiming that it is therefore these features, which compose the proposition, which the proposition is about. Rather, the proposition is about real objects in the real world. Thus, again using our example of "man," to say that the proposition "man is a rational animal" is simply about how we use the term "man," is to commit this fallacy of confusing use with mention. For in regard to this proposition, we are not concerned with the word "man" and how it is used, but rather with what real men are in the real world, i.e. with real men and real rational animals. If we were to concern ourselves with the terms involved in the proposition, we should express the proposition differently, viz. " 'Man' means the same as 'rational animal.'" The fact that we use words to express the necessary proposition does not mean that the proposition is about these words. We can, of course, discourse about the words or terms which compose the proposition. But if we desire to do so, we must put the word with which we are concerned in quotes. However, when the word is found without quotes, we are no longer speaking about the word or concept, but about the object to which the word refers. When it states a proposition


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(in analytic form) which purports to be about the world, the above theory then claims this statement is about the habitual use of words. But such a proposition, when the words are not in quotes, is not about the words or concepts and their relationship to each other, but rather about the objects in the real world and their relationships. We must distinguish speech about the words and concepts from that about the objects which they are concepts of; failure to do this results in the fallacy of confusing use with mention, and it is this fallacy which is committed by the proponents of logical necessity. Arthur Pap 19 has raised a somewhat similar objection against the logical empiricist's analysis of necessity. According to the theory detailed above, necessary truths function apart from empirical evidence. Indeed, to introduce empirical evidence for a statement is to make that statement empirical, i.e. contingent. But the linguistic theory of necessary propositions is open to the "charge of reducing necessary propositions to empirical propositions about language," for in claiming that necessary propositions are about linguistic usage, one is saying that evidence for linguistic usage is relevant to the truth or falsehood of the necessary statement. If the linguistic habit of humans is not to use "man" in the sense of "rational animal," the proposition is false, and vice versa. But propositions derived from or supported by empirical propositions must themselves be empirical. In other words, those who maintain this theory of necessary propositions seem to be guilty of reducing necessary propositions to empirical ones. They are empirically informative about linguistic habits. These objections have been countered by the contention that necessary propositions are not descriptive propositions at all, but rather prescriptive.20 They do not describe our usage of words. Malcolm argues that though it is a fact about words which makes the statement correct, yet the statement is not about this fact.21 Their necessity is based upon, their truth is justified by, the way people use words, but they do not describe how people use statements. Rather, they are used as rules of inference or calculation. They are "rules of grammar or commands to use words in a certain way. . . . Thus it is that when

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a man says, 'My wife said that she would either be at home or at Mrs. Brown's. She isn't at home so we'll be able to find her at Mrs. Brown's,' he is using a necessary statement as a rule of inference, is using it to make a deduction, and not to describe how people use statements of the form 'Either p or q and ~ p.'" 2 2 Thus, since necessary propositions are not about anything, but rather are rules of inference, the fallacy of confusing use with mention is not committed. But are all necessary propositions rules of inference? Granted that some can be used as rules of inference (for example, "water is either wet or not-wet"), but is it the case that all are thus? It seems odd, indeed, to say that propositions such as "hydrogen is an element," "man is a rational animal," "unsupported rocks necessarily fall," and "every contingent being has a cause" are merely rules of inference, that their sole purpose is to function as universal premises in deductive arguments. As we argued above, sometimes it is the purpose of necessary propositions to tell us what something really and necessarily is, or to present the essential structure of the world. We want to know, for example, what hydrogen really is. In such cases, the necessary proposition is not an inference ticket for other items of knowledge about hydrogen, but rather provides the vehicle for enabling us to know what hydrogen really and essentially is; similarly with the causal principle. This may sometimes function as an inference ticket in order to gain further knowledge. But this usage does not rule out the possibility of its being used to discover whether it really is the case that real objects or events require or need real causes. To sustain Malcolm's thesis, every usage of a necessary proposition must be as an inference ticket. But these examples seem to indicate that such is not the case, that we have necessary propositions which seek to be informative just in themselves. And in respect to these, it .still remains a meaningful question to ask what these propositions are about, a question which logical empiricism cannot answer without confusing use and mention. Thus, it seems that logical necessity is only one usage of "necessary," and a very restricted one at that. It is a necessity which applies solely to propositions about concepts or word


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usage. In this area it is sufficient. But when we want to speak about what things are and about the essential structure of the world, then we must appeal to another kind of necessity. THE SYNTHETIC A PRIORI As we noted previously, some contemporary philosophers have held that propositions can be informative and necessary in that synthetic a priori propositions are possible, though few would hold that there are any convincing examples of such. Despite such pessimism, perhaps this is the kind of necessity needed to make the causal principle plausible, and which at the same time will free metaphysical statements from the Malcolmian drudgery of acting merely as rules of inference or calculation, that will free them to be informative about the facts of the world, in the way in which these statements claim. Unfortunately, this analysis likewise presents problems for the causal principle. In particular, if one adopts the position that the synthetic a priori is possible, what is it to be a necessary truth? What does one mean by "necessary"? Obviously, one can no longer mean that a proposition is necessary in the sense that its opposite implies a self-contradiction. If it is synthetic in form, its negation is not of the form A is not-A. What, then, is it to be necessary? The answer to this question, as traditionally given by Kant, is that nonanalytic a priori metaphysical propositions are necessary in virtue of the fact that they refer to the very conditions for the possibility of experiencing objects. The mind can know objects of experience only through the pure concepts or categories of understanding; these categories are a priori in the mind as the formal ground for experience. Their necessity rests upon the fact that, without them, experience of objects is impossible. "[A priori concepts] must be recognized as a priori conditions of the possibility of experience. . . . Concepts which yield the objective ground of the possibility of experience are for this very reason necessary."23 Therefore, the necessity of synthetic a priori propositions derives from the fact that they refer to categories which themselves are necessary for the possibility of experience.

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Applying this to the causal principle, such a principle must be necessary, for causation is one of the pure concepts or categories of the understanding. As such, the causal principle can be necessary without having to be analytic. Likewise it is informative, for it is synthetic. Hence it is necessary and informative simultaneously. However, "informative" in this case does not mean informative about the real world, but only about our experience of this world. It "can never admit of real but always only of empirical employment, and it can apply only to objects of the senses under the universal conditions of a possible experience, never to things in general without regard to the mode in which we are able to intuit them."24 Thus, for example, if the causal principle were synthetic a priori, it would apply only to the phenomena, to the perception of the thing, and not to the thing-initself (the noumena). As such it is not informative in the way we want, for it informs us not about the real world, but simply about the conditions required for our experience of such. It is no longer a real but a transcendental principle. Moreover, if this analysis of the causal principle were adopted, it would lead to the transformation of the cosmological argument from the real to the transcendental realm. The argument purports to prove that there really exists a cause which accounts for or explains the existence of all beings. This cause is a being which exists apart from any conditions which might be required for us to know the world. That is to say, it exists in reality independent of all epistemic considerations. But if we say that the causal principle refers simply to a condition of our understanding, and consequently is a transcendental principle of our knowledge of the world, then the cosmological argument argues not for the existence of a being in the real world, not for a real cause, but rather for the existence of a regulative principle. If causality is an epistemological prerequisite, the causal explanation for a being has to do with epistemological, not ontological, concerns. Thus, in this view, a valid cosmological argument would only lead to a Kantian regulative principle, not to a real cause existing in the real world. Indeed, even though Kant rejects the cosmological argu-


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ment as being invalid, this type of ultimate cause is what he opts for on other grounds. The Ideal of Pure Reason, or God,25 is merely a concept, one which "prescribes that we are to philosophise about nature as if there were a necessary first ground for all that belongs to existence—solely, however, for the purpose of bringing systematic unity into our knowledge."26 When we change this regulative principle into a constitutive one, then we have introduced transcendental subreption. Thus, if we follow the path of Kant, the most that the cosmological argument could hope to prove would be the necessity of there being a regulative principle in order to properly unify all our experience. But the cosmological argument argues for a real being, not a regulative principle. And the causal principle which the cosmological argument wants to uphold is one which is informative in that it tells us about the real world, not merely about our experience of such. We must, therefore, show on what other grounds it can be a principle which is both necessary and still informative about the real world. REAL NECESSITY What do we mean when we say that a proposition is really (as opposed to logically) necessary? On one hand, like logical necessity, the necessary condition for a proposition to be really or naturally necessary is that its opposite imply a contradiction. Unless the opposite implies a contradiction, the proposition is contingent, not necessary. But the difference between the two theories lies in their sufficient condition. The sufficient condition for a proposition to be logically necessary, as noted above, is that it be necessary solely in virtue of the principles of logic and the meanings of its terms, without any reference to the real world. But the sufficient condition for a proposition to be really or naturally necessary is that it be necessary in virtue of the very nature or structure of the world. Statements which express the way things are in the world are necessary because of the nature of the world, and not in virtue of a priori concepts. Their necessity is therefore derived, or arises, from the essential structure of the world; they are necessary propositions

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because of the way the world essentially is. Or put another way, we might say that a necessary truth reflects the necessary, essential structure of the world. Now whereas logical necessity involves a conventionalist view of language, real necessity involves what we might term an essentialist view of language. That is to say, the meanings of our words are not established simply on the basis of conventional usage, but rather on the basis of what we believe the nature of that object to be. We say that % means y because we have discovered that y seems to be essentially what x is in the ' real world. For example, we define "man" as a "rational animal," not because we happen to use the word "man" to mean the same as "rational animal," but rather because from our experience with men we have discovered that rationality and animality appear to be essential characteristics of them. Quite apart from our conceiving it, prior to our thinking about it, man is just the sort of being which is a rational animal. All the men with whom we are acquainted seem to exhibit these characteristics, not accidently, but as an essential part of their makeup. 27 Thus our concept of what man is, is derived from and applicable to the real world, for our definition of "man" has been formed on the basis of our analysis of what he essentially is in the world. The meaning is therefore the conceptual form of the —essence. Or as Quine puts it when he critically refers to essentialism, "Meaning is what essence becomes when it is divorced from the object of reference and wedded to the word."28 > Moreover, the statement "man is a rational animal" is necessary because of the way things are in the world, because man is essentially and necessarily a rational animal. To deny that man is such would be to contradict what man in fact truly is. Necessary truths therefore reflect a real necessity, a necessity which is operative prior to and independent of linguistic formulation. Statements, then, which are really necessary are both informative and necessary. They are informative in that they tell us about the world, and about the essential structure of beings in the world and of the world itself. And they are necessary in that a denial of them would lead to contradiction; it would be


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saying that a thing was not what it was or that the structure of the world was not what it was. Someone, however, might raise the following objection. It is an obvious fact that we can be mistaken about states of affairs in the world. Hence, informative propositions are such that what they assert could conceivably be different; the distant tower might be round, not square, though we have stated that it was square. Now if that which is informative can possibly be other than it is, how then can it be necessary, for to be necessary means that it cannot be other than it is? It seems that we are affirming two contradictory claims about the proposition at the same time, namely, that it both can and cannot assert that the state of affairs might be other than what they were claimed to be. The solution to this difficulty can best be brought out by an illustration from the history of philosophy. Let us take, as an example, the definition of an atom as put forth by the early Atomists. "Atom" was defined as "an indivisible unit of matter." The proposition "an atom is an indivisible unit of matter" was accordingly a necessary proposition (in that to deny it led to a contradiction) and an informative one (in that it informed one what an atom really and essentially was). For the Atomists, it would have been inconceivable to deny that an atom was an indivisible unit of matter; such would have been self-contradictory. Yet, on the other hand, they were certainly talking about real atoms and not simply about the concept of atom. When Lucretius claimed that all things were composed of atoms, he was not saying that entities were structured out of concepts; such would be absurd. Concepts of atoms do not go together to make up entities—real atoms do. Similarly, when he attempted to define what an atom essentially was, he was not speaking about the concept of such, but about real atoms. Thus, here we have a case of an informative and necessary proposition. Today, however, modern science has discovered that what was once considered to be indivisible was not indivisible; the atom is composed of still smaller particles. Thus today scientists define the atom, not as indivisible, but as "the smallest component of an element having all the properties of the element." And here again, we have a necessary and informative proposi-

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tion, but one which differs significantly from the ancient definition of an atom. What is the point here? It is simply that what were once conceived to be necessary propositions or necessary truths about the world might conceivably not be true at all. That is to say, such propositions are subject to correction. We may be mistaken as to what we conceive the essence of any given thing to be. In other words, the point is simply this: If P is what S is really and in fact, then "S is P" will be necessary truth, precisely in the sense that its opposite will be inconceivable and self-contradictory. And yet it does not work the other way around: If "S is P" strikes us as being a necessary truth and one the opposite of which seems inconceivable, that does not necessarily mean that P is what S is really. 29

This, of course, does not mean that the statement defining a concept is not necessary at any given time. Indeed, if we conceive the essence of S to be such and such, then any statement which would deny this would imply a contradiction. That is, once anything is conceived to have such and such a nature, the proposition affirming this must be necessary. But that such a proposition is necessary is no guarantee of the infallibility of our conception of such. We might have misconceived what the nature of the being was. But this is simply a recognition of our fallible knowledge. Thus, while we hold that real entities are essentially or necessarily such and such, any statement about what they essentially are must be a necessary proposition, but this necessity in no way guarantees a veridical knowledge of that reality nor that that is the way these real entities are. If reality corresponds to what we deem it to be, then our propositions concerning it must be necessary. But the fact that we have certain necessary propositions about the way reality is in no way assures us that £ reality is such. The necessity expressed in our propositions is dependent upon our view of what reality is, and since we can be mistaken concerning the latter, we must then hold that that which is deemed to be necessary could possibly be other than it is. Thus, there is no conflict between a proposition being both informative and necessary, for something which is now deemed

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necessary could be other than it now is if we are mistaken about it, though according to present doctrine it is necessary. In conclusion, real or natural necessity deals with propositions which claim to be informative at the same time as they are necessary. They are necessary in virtue of the nature of things, not in virtue of the nature of our language system. Their opposites would be contradictory because they would be denying that things are just what they are. Moreover, the plausability of this concept results from the fact that it allows us to speak about the real world as it essentially is and that its analysis in no way prevents us from stating what something essentially and necessarily is; instead it encourages us to discourse about the nature of the world. Indeed, we might say that this kind of necessity is required by our discourse about the nature of things and the structure of the world. Application to the Causal Principle We have, then, the answer to our question, How can the causal principle be both informative and necessary simultaneously? The reply to such a query should, by now, be quite obvious. There is a contradiction between these two characteristics only if the logical analysis presupposed is one in which the principle is true simply in virtue of its concepts. But such an analysis, among other things, is guilty of confusing the use (that which the proposition is about) with the mention (the logical instrument). On the contrary, we want to contend that the causal principle is not logically necessary, but really necessary; it is necessary because the world is so structured that contingent beings require a cause. As such, we can say that the causal principle is both informative and really necessary without fear of invoking a contradiction, for such are characteristics of necessary truths which intend real necessity. NOTES 1. A. J. Aver, Language, Truth and Logic (New York, Dover Publications, 1946), p. 22. 2. J. J. C. Smart, "The Existence of God." In Antony Flew and Alasdair Maclntyre (Eds.), New Essays in Philosophical Theology (New York, Macmillan, 1955), p. 38.

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3. Ayer, op. cit., p. 31. 4. Ibid., p. 78.

5. J M . , p. 31. 6. Ibid., pp. 16, 114. 7. Zfotd., p . 16. 8. Ibid., p. 79. By "informative" we mean "devoid of factual content about the world." A proposition can be uninformative in this sense, while still being informative in the sense that it informs us about our use of words. 9. Ayer, op. cit., pp. 78, 80. 10. J. N. Findlay, "Can God's Existence Be Disproved?" In New Essays in Philosophical Theology (see note 2 ) , p. 54. 11. Ayer, op. cit., p. 84. See also pp. 31, 79. 12. Clarence Irving Lewis, An Analysis of Knowledge and Valuation (LaSalle, 111., Open Court, 1946), p. 96. 13. Norwood Russell Hanson, "The Very Idea of a Synthetic-Apriori," Mind, LXXI, no. 284 (October, 1962), p. 521. 14. Lewis, op. cit., pp. 72, 105. 15. Ayer, op. cit., p. 31. 16. Ibid., p. 79. 17. John Wisdom, "Metaphysics and Verification." Mind, XLVII, no. 188 (October, 1938), p. 463n. 18. Henry B. Veatch, "St. Thomas and the Question, 'How Are Synthetic Judgments A Priori Possible?'" The Modern Schoolman, XLII, no. 3 (March, 1965), pp. 256-257. 19. Arthur Pap, Semantics and Necessary Truth (New Haven, Conn., Yale University Press, 1958), pp. 164-168. 20. Ayer, "Introduction to the Second Edition." In Language, Truth and Logic, p. 16. Norman Malcolm, "Are Necessary Propositions Really Verbal?" Mind, XLIX, no. 194 (April, 1940), pp. 199-202. Ayer ("Truth by Convention." Analysis, IV, nos. 2 & 3, pp. 19-20) claims that since necessary truths are prescriptive, they are not propositions at all. But Malcolm argues that in order to be a proposition, a statement does not have to be descriptive. That is, it is perfectly possible to have non-descriptive propositions (Malcolm, op. cit., pp. 202-203). 21. Malcolm, op. cit., p. 199. 22. Ibid., pp. 199, 202. 23. Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, trans, by Norman Kemp Smith (New York, St. Martin's Press, 1965), A94. 24. Ibid., A246, with the substitution of "realen" for "transcendentalem" made by Kant in the Nachtrage. 25. Ibid., A580. 26. Ibid., A616.

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27. The epistemological question how we discover that this is the essential feature of man is not the issue here. I am merely attempting to state the basis on which real necessity is grounded, so that we may understand what real necessity is. 28. Willard VanOrman Quine, From a Logical Point of View (New York, Harper and Row, 1953), pp. 22, 155. 29. Henry B. Veatch, "On Trying to Say and to Know What's What." Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, XXIV, No. 1 (September, 1963), p. 91.

Chapter 5

CAUSATION AND THE TOTALITY OF CONTINGENT BEINGS A N HIS FAMOUS DEBATE with Frederick Copleston on the question of the validity of the theistic arguments, Bertrand Russell contends that it is meaningless to ask, as the cosmological argument does, for any explanation of the universe. The universe is without explanation, for the notion of causation is inapplicable to the totality. As such, the cosmological argument has no validity, for one of its premises is meaningless. How, in detail, does Russell develop his criticism? The concept of cause, Russell contends, is one which we derive from our experience with, our observation of, particular things. We see billard balls causing each other to move, people causing doors to close, and the wind whipping leaves through the air; from these instances where particular things move other particular things we form our notion of causation. And since our notion of causation is derived from the perception of such instances, it is inappropriate to apply the notion "cause" to anything other than such instances of particulars causing particulars. We have no reason to apply the notion of causation to areas extending beyond our experience. When he applies this to the cosmological argument, Russell wants to contend that since "the whole concept of cause is one we derive from our observation of particular things, [there is] no reason whatsoever to suppose that the total has any cause whatsoever. . . . The concept of cause is not applicable to the total."1 The cosmological argument, Russell notes, involves a request for the sufficient reason for the totality of contingent beings. But when it asks for such, its request is meaningless, for we cannot meaningfully apply the concept of causation to the totality. As such, we can never ask for the reason for the ex-

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istence of the universe. And if we cannot do this, then we can never arrive at the existence of a necessary being which is supposed to explain the existence of such. We can proceed no farther than to ask for the causes of particular effects; to ask for more is to lapse into meaningless queries. The totality, therefore, is totally without explanation; to ask for an explanation in terms of finding a cause for it is meaningless. Thus for Russell, the question, Is there a sufficient reason for the totality of beings? is crucial to the cosmological argument. But such a query is meaningless. Thus the entire edifice of the argument supposedly collapses around our feet. RUSSELL'S OBJECTION IS IRRELEVANT TO OUR COSMOLOGICAL ARGUMENT Russell seems to feel that the validity of the cosmological argument hinges on the attempt to find a cause for the totality of contingent beings, an effort which for him is doomed from the start to meaninglessness. But is Russell correct in this contention? Does the cosmological argument contend that there must be a cause for the totality of contingent beings? The answer one gives to this depends, I believe, upon which of the two types of arguments for rejecting an infinite series of contingent beings2 that one is considering. As we noted in Chapter 1, though there seems to be one general argument form for the cosmological argument, there are some differences in the development of this form. One can find such a difference in the arguments given for rejecting the alternative in S4 of an infinite series of contingent beings. On one hand, the argument given by St. Thomas Aquinas was that an infinite series of contingent beings was in and of itself incapable of explaining the existence or motion of a contingent or moved being. It is impossible to proceed to infinity in the series of moved movers, for to do so implies that there would be no first mover, and hence no subsequent movers and ultimately no motion whatsoever. Thus we must reject, St. Thomas argues, the alternative of an infinite series of moved movers, for this cannot account for the moving of any given moved object. On the other hand, the argument given by Duns Scotus

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was that an infinite series of contingent beings was itself in need of a cause, for since this series exists and whatever exists has a cause, this series likewise must have a cause. The alternative of an infinite series of causes must therefore be rejected as being the cause of the caused being because ultimately even this infinite series of causes related per se must have a cause. Thus two different kinds of arguments have been traditionally given for rejecting an infinite series of contingent beings: one, like the one we developed in the first chapter, argues that this alternative can never yield a sufficient reason; the other contends that this entire series needs a cause. Now given these two different arguments, to which of these does Russell's criticism apply? to one or to both? That Russell's criticism applies to the type of argumentation given by Scotus can be seen from two things. First, this seems clear from the fact that Russell's argument is developed directly in reply to Frederick Copleston, who argues as follows: So if you add up contingent beings to infinity, you still get contingent beings, not a necessary being. An infinite series of contingent beings will be, to my way of thinking, as unable to cause itself as one contingent being. . . . Why stop [finding a cause for] one particular object? Why shouldn't one raise the question of the cause of the existence of all particular objects? . . . I can't see how you can rule out the legitimacy of asking the question how the total, or anything at all comes to be there.3

Note that in his argument Copleston is asking not merely for the cause of any contingent being but for the cause of the infinite series of contingent beings. Thus, that to which Russell is replying is the same line of argumentation which Duns Scotus developed. Secondly, the type of argument developed by both Scotus and Copleston contains, as a part of the argument, the contention that even the infinite series of contingent beings needs a cause. But this is precisely Russell's point: it is meaningless to press the question of causation to the totality. Thus it can be seen that Russell's contention is applicable to the Scotus/ Copleston type of argument (though, as we shall show below, not valid against it).


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But granted that Russell's argument does apply to the type of analysis given to statement 5 in S4 by Scotus and Copleston, does it apply to the type of analysis given by Thomas and ourselves? That his criticism does not apply to the argument which we have developed can be seen from the following. First, that for which our cosmological argument is attempting to account is not an infinite series of contingent beings nor any totality of contingent beings. The quest for an explanation of a totality does not find a place in the argument itself. That this is the case can be readily seen in that the proposition "An existent totality itself needs a sufficient reason (cause) for its existence" finds no correlate in the argument which we proposed in Chapter 1. In our presentation all that we were concerned to explain was the existence of any individual contingent being. Moreover, the infinite series of contingent beings, which we considered as one alternative for accounting for the existence of any contingent being, was not considered in our argument as a totality which must be caused. There was no attempt in our argument to discover a cause for this totality of contingent beings. Our only contention was that no contingent being nor any number of contingent beings, even if they amounted to an infinity of contingent beings, could provide a sufficient reason for the existence of this particular contingent being. It was not that the totality needed a cause, but that it by itself could not provide the cause or sufficient reason which led us to reject it as an alternative in S5. Thus, Russell's criticism, as he states it, is irrelevant to the particular cosmological argument which we advanced, for a perfectly valid cosmological argument can be formulated without ever introducing the question about the cause of the totality of contingent beings. THE TOTALITY OF CONTINGENT BEINGS MUST ITSELF BE CONTINGENT Russell's counter to this, I believe, would be something like the following. It must be granted that the cosmological argument, as formulated in Chapter 1, does not seek for a cause of the totality of contingent beings and that the infinite series of contingent beings is not rejected as a possible ex-

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planation of the existence of any contingent being because it itself must be caused. However, cannot this uncaused totality of contingent beings be used to help us escape the dilemma posed in S4? In S4 we noted that in order to account for die existence of any contingent being we must appeal to either an infinite series of contingent beings or to a necessary being. Now granted that the first will not yield the desired result and that we want to avoid the latter at all cost, can we not escape between the horns of the dilemma by stating that the sufficient reason for any being is provided by a totality of contingent beings which is itself neither caused nor uncaused? Is it not at this point that we can introduce the notion of a totality which provides, on the one hand, the explanation for everything else, and to which, on the other hand, the notion of causality is inapplicable (as shown in Russell's argument above)? Here we have avoided the difficulties of an infinite regress, for we do have a final term in the series which can be considered the cause of the contingent being, viz. the totality; yet we have made no appeal to a necessary being, for it is quite meaningless to ask for the cause of this totality, since we can never experience such. Thus, it is now in regard to the dichotomy posed in S4 that the difficulty with the cosmological argument arises; by the introduction of an explaining totality to which the predicate "caused" does not apply, we have escaped between the horns of this dilemma, and have consequently avoided the conclusion that a necessary being must exist. Now in regard to this criticism of our argument, it is obviously the case that we cannot use the same objection to it that we used against Russell's first presentation, for here Russell's objection can be shown to be relevant to one of the steps in our argument. The argument which he here proposes is raised against our fourth step, for he contends that he can escape the dilemma posed there. Thus in this case Russell's criticism, if it can be sustained, is telling against our particular version of the cosmological argument. Moreover, we must also grant that there is no way in which we can experience the totality, and consequently, there is no direct way (by perceptual means) of knowing that the totality is caused. Russell again appears to be on firm ground.


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But granted that we cannot experience the totality, and hence cannot on this basis apply the notion of causation to it, cannot we establish on other grounds that this totality must itself be caused? The answer, I believe, is that we can. We can infer that the world is contingent, hence caused, from the fact that since the totality is in reality nothing more than the sum of all the contingent beings, and since the parts are all contingent, the totality, as the sum total of its parts, must likewise be contingent. And if it is contingent, it is caused (as argued in the third chapter). Therefore, it is certainly meaningful to ask for that which caused the totality. Russell counters this argument with an example. He states, "I can illustrate what seems to me your fallacy. Every man who exists has a mother, and it seems to me that your argument is that therefore the human race must have a mother, but obviously the human race hasn't a mother—that's a different logical sphere."4 We cannot logically infer from the fact that all the individual parts of a totality have a certain characteristic that the totality likewise possesses the same characteristic, gency of all the parts we have argued to the contingency of To do this is to commit the Fallacy of Composition. Yet this is precisely the move of the above argument: from the contingency of all the parts we have argued to the contingency of the whole. Consequently, any argument which seeks to establish the contingency of the totality from the contingency of its parts is guilty of committing the Fallacy of Composition. THE FALLACY OF COMPOSITION Our argument for the contingency of the totality is based on the argument from part to whole, and Russell contends that such reasoning is fallacious, for it commits the Fallacy of Composition. But is every argument from part to whole fallacious? We can present numerous examples where such arguments are valid and not fallacious. For example, all the parts of this book are extended; therefore this book is extended. Or again, all the parts of this desk are made of wood; therefore this desk is made of wood. In both cases, the whole must have a certain characteristic because all the parts do; the conclusion does logically follow from the premises. We appear, then, to have examples

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which tell against the application of this fallacy to all arguments from part to whole. It would seem strange indeed to call these arguments fallacious, when it is in fact the case that the whole must have this property because the parts do. Let us, then, examine the Fallacy of Composition more closely. What is the crux of the Fallacy of Composition? This fallacy is committed whenever the universal premise which expresses the argument from part to wholePremise 1: (x) (y) [(xRy • Px) 3 Py] where R stands for "relation of parts to whole" and P stands for "some property" —cannot be shown to be necessarily true. That is, any individual argument from part to whole 5 commits the Fallacy of Composition when it argues from the universal premise 1, which cannot be established to be necessarily true. Now it must first be admitted that, if we are restricted to deciding the truth of premise 1 on the basis of logical form alone (as Russell seems to think), then all arguments from part to whole are fallacious. That is to say, premise 1 cannot be shown by formal logic to be necessarily true. A truth-table analysis of 1 will not show that its denial is self-contradictory. However, it does seem odd to restrict the manner of discovering the truth involved in 1 to formal logical manipulation alone, and accordingly to apply the term "fallacy" to all cases where the necessary truth of the universal premise cannot be established simply by means of formal logic. For, as shown by our examples, there seem to be arguments which, though employing 1, are not fallacious. Are there not other ways of establishing the necessary truth of this premise than by formal logic? Cannot we establish its necessary truth through an analysis of the nature of the properties involved? The point here is that, since there seem to be obvious cases where the inference from part to whole is not fallacious, it seems questionable to apply the term "fallacy" to all cases where the necessary truth of 1, though it cannot be established by formal logic, can be established on other grounds. The application of "fallacy" to an argument must be made in a wider


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context than simply in that of formal logical validity. We must also take into consideration the essential nature or character of the properties involved. And if we do this, then the Fallacy of Composition applies to every case in which premise 1 is not necessarily true, where the decision whether it is necessarily true or false rests on something more than simply formal logic. In this formulation we have not changed the nature of the Fallacy of Composition, but have merely altered our concept of logical validity to include arguments whose validity can be discerned by means of formal logic plus an analysis of the nature of the properties involved in the argument. Thus in any particular case, in order to decide whether the argument from part to whole has committed the Fallacy of Composition, we must decide whether premise 1 is necessarily true. And whether this premise is necessarily true in any particular part/whole argument must be determined by an analysis of the characteristic or property involved in that case.6 In certain cases, the characteristic involved is such that the whole must have a certain character if all the parts have it. Or put another way, it is impossible for all the parts to be of a particular character if the whole is not. Thus in our example above, if the parts of the desk are made of wood, it is simply contradictory to say that the desk is not made of wood. Similarly, in our example of extended objects, the object simply must be extended if its parts are extended. The extension of the whole is dependent on the extension of the parts. In such instances, the parts themselves cause1 the whole to have this characteristic.8 As such, the whole must have this property if the parts do: it is really necessary that the desk be wooden if its parts are wooden. Thus, by an analysis of the characteristic under consideration we can see that in some cases if all the parts of y are P, y must be P. And we can see that in these cases this is really necessary, for to deny it involves a contradiction. We may conclude, then, that not every argument which infers that the whole has a certain property because the parts do, commits the Fallacy of Composition. It is impossible to universalize this fallacy to apply to all cases of part/whole inference, for there are some arguments of this type which do not

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commit this fallacy. Rather, the validity or invalidity of this, inference depends upon what property we substitute for P in premise 1. In some cases the property is such that premise 1 is necessarily true, for to deny it involves a contradiction, whereas with respect to other properties such is not the case. We must consider the property involved in each individual case, in order to determine where it is applicable, and where it is not. In those cases where premise 1 is necessarily true, the fallacy does not apply. Application to the Cosmological Argument If this is the case, then, in the argument under consideration, we must analyze the property involved, viz. contingency. We want to contend that the very nature of contingency makes it such that premise 1 must be necessarily true. The argument may be put as follows: The totality of contingent beings is nothing more than the sum total of individual contingent beings; it is nothing over and above these beings. Each individual being, then, if it exists could conceivably not be. But what would occur if all these beings ceased to exist at the next moment, something which is a distinct possibility since each is contingent? Obviously, if such were the case, the totality itself would cease to exist. For if the totality is the sum total of all its parts, and if there were no parts, then it would be impossible for the totality to exist. But if this is the case, it is perfectly conceivable that the totality could not exist. And if the totality could conceivably not exist, then it too must be contingent. Therefore, if all the parts of something are contingent, the totality likewise must be contingent; it could conceivably not exist. Here, then, we have a statement of the form of premise 1, namely, the fact that the parts are contingent necessarily implies that the whole be contingent. By an analysis of contingency we can see that this must be the case. Thus, when we argue that since the parts of the totality of contingent beings are contingent, therefore the totality must be contingent, we are making a necessarily true statement. To deny that the totality is contingent, even though all its parts are contingent, is simply contradictory. Accordingly, when we argue that the to-


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tality must be contingent because its parts are, we have not committed the Fallacy of Composition, for in our argument premise 1 is necessarily true. Thus it seems that though we cannot directly know that the totality is caused, by this argument we can show that it must be contingent and therefore caused. And if the totality must be caused, then we can appeal to no such thing as an explaining totality to which causation does not apply. Russell has not provided us with a viable escape between the horns of the dilemma posed in step four. A FRAMEWORK FOR "CAUSATION" AS APPLIED TO THE TOTALITY Russell would have at least one more move. It must be granted that the totality can be shown to be contingent by such an argument as that given above and that, consequendy, we cannot appeal to such a thing as an uncaused totality of contingent beings to escape the dilemma posed in S4. However, previously we have shown that that which is contingent must be caused. Hence, this totality of contingent beings must be caused. But, to reformulate his original objection, causation as known to us always describes an event in which a particular being is caused by another particular being in the world. When we ask for the cause of something, that cause is sought for within the structure or context of the totality of contingent beings. But what would it mean to ask for a cause which lies outside of this totality? Since causation as known by us always occurs within the context of the totality, is not then meaningless to ask for a cause outside of this totality? If this is the only frame of reference we have for causation, what could we possibly mean when we ask for the cause of the totality? Such a question would seem to be meaningless, for there is no appropriate frame of reference in which to put the question. Thus the cosmological argument necessarily implies a proposition which is without any meaning. One thing is immediately evident from this reformulation of Russell's original objection against the cosmological argument. As formulated here against our argument, his objection has great similarity to the original formulation against the argu-

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ment of Copleston. His criticism here is that since causation can only be meaningful within a framework of totality, the necessary implication—from the contingency of the totality—that it is caused is meaningless. His criticism of Copleston was similiar, namely, that it was meaningless to ask for the cause of the totahty. Thus, we have a parallel between our own argument and that of Copleston, such that a reply to Russell here would likewise suffice against his original criticism of Copleston. Now can Russell's argument here be sustained? Is there no framework in which we can speak about the causation of the totality of contingent beings? That there is a framework both for the statement that the totahty of contingent beings is contingent and for the statement that the totality is caused, can, I think, be shown as follows. First, what land of framework is necessary in order to ask whether the totality is or is not contingent? That the totality is contingent means that the totality, if it exists, could possibly not exist. Now in order to discover whether or not the totality need exist, we need no other frame of reference beyond the totality itself. When we ask whether we can conceive of this totality as nonexistent, we are not introducing anything which lies outside of this totahty. We are not (at least at this juncture) asking for an external cause of this contingent totality; we are not appealing to any external forces or beings. Neither are we affirming the existence of anything other than this totahty of contingent beings. We are merely saying that it is possible that this totality could not be, for the elimination of all contingent beings would result in the elimination of the totahty of contingent beings. Thus the frame of reference for any statement about the contingency of the totality is the totality itself. In the strict sense of "contingent," where "contingent" simply means "could conceivably not be," when we ask whether the totality is contingent we need no other frame of reference beyond the totality itself in order to frame the question. Secondly, one can likewise show that there is a meaningful frame of reference in which one can speak about the totality being caused. In order to make it meaningful to speak of the


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totality of contingent beings being caused we need merely to extend our notion of totality to include necessary as well as contingent beings. That is to say, given the above argument to show that the totality of contingent beings is caused, in order to discover in what framework we can discuss this causation we need merely to include the necessary being established by the cosmological argument in a totality along with the contingent beings of our experience. As such, the question of causation still takes place within a totality, as Russell claims. But the totality in which the question of the causation of the totality of contingent beings takes place is not the restricted totality of beings of one kind, viz. contingent, but a larger totality. As such, by expanding the idea of a totality, the question of causation of one part of that totality again becomes meaningful; it is asked in a meaningful framework of reference. But how, it may be objected, can these two (contingent beings and a necessary being) be included together in a totality? Are they not too very different? I think not, for upon examining them more closely, there are two important ways in which they are similar and which would allow them to be grouped together. First, both groups include real beings. There really are contingent beings, and, as the cosmological argument shows, there really is a necessary being. Hence, such a totality would be the totality of all existing things. Secondly, both are capable of yielding reasons for the existence of other beings, though obviously with differing degrees of sufficiency. Thus, both can be causes. And if both are causes, cannot they both be included in a totality of beings which are causes? Thus, although they differ in that the one contains contingent and the other noncontingent beings, it is perfectly possible to extend the notion of a totality to include all necessary as well as all contingent beings. And as such, we have here a frame of reference in which we can meaningfully ask whether the world (as the totality of contingent beings) can be caused, namely, in that of a totality of beings which are real and are causes. CONCLUSION It appears that none of Russell's arguments will support his

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claim that we cannot proceed beyond the totality in order to explain the existence of a contingent being. We have argued, first, that to make the quest for the cause of the totality a central part of the cosmological argument is not applicable to our argument; no such contention can be found in the argument. Secondly, the appeal to an explanatory totality to which causation does not apply can be countered by an argument from the character of the parts of this totality to the character of the whole. This argument shows that the totality must itself be contingent and therefore cannot fill the role Russell assigns to it, namely, of being a cause to which itself the notion of causal explanation is inapplicable. Finally, we have contended, contrary to Russell, that there is a meaningful frame of reference in which we can ask for the cause of the totality, namely, a framework in which the notion of totality is extended beyond its restricted usage with reference only to contingent beings. Hopefully, then, the cosmological argument has met the challenge of Bertrand Russell. NOTES 1. Frederick Copleston and Bertrand Russell, "A Debate on the Existence of God." In John Hick (Ed.), The Existence of God (New York, Macmillan, 1964), p. 175. 2. Note 2, Ch. 1. 3. Copleston and Russell, op. tit., pp. 174-175. 4. Ibid., p. 175. 5. The argument form involved here would be modus ponens. Premise 1: (x) (y) [(xRy • Px) D Py] Premise 2: (3x) (3y) [(xRy • Px)] Premise 3: .". (3y) (Py) 6. William L. Rowe, "The Fallacy of Composition." Mind, LXXI, No. 281 (January, 1962), p. 89. 7. The causation involved is obviously not efficient causation. Probably the closest we could come to categorizing the cause would be to call it a material cause. 8. Why this is so with respect to certain properties and not with others is difficult to say. But the recognition that the part/whole inference works with certain properties like colors and extension, but not for others like small or round, is not contingent upon our presentation of a principle which will enable us to decide automatically in every instance whether premise 1 is necessarily true.

Chapter 6

THE PROBLEM OF NECESSITY IN THE CONCLUSION JL HAT THE CONCLUSION of the cosmological argument involves the notion of necessity is hardly disputable. What is disputed, however, is the kind of necessity which is thought to be involved therein. For many contemporary philosophers, the necessity involved is of one and only one kind, namely, logical necessity. That is, the conclusion of the cosmological argument, "God exists," is a logically necessary proposition. J. J. C. Smart's analysis of this existence claim is a case in point. The first stage of the argument purports to argue to the existence of a necessary being. And by "a necessary being" the cosmological argument means "a logically necessary being," i.e. "a being whose nonexistence is inconceivable in the sort of way that a triangle's having four sides is inconceivable." . . . Now since "necessary" is a word which applies primarily to propositions, we shall have to interpret "God is a necessary being" as "The proposition 'God exists' is logically necessary." 1

C. B. Martin arrives at the same conclusion. The difficulty with [the concluding statement of Thomas's third Way] is not only that it follows from untrue and muddled premises, but that it suggests that God's existence is logically necessary. That is, it suggests that it does not make sense to say that it is possible that God should not exist.2

Finally, Paul Edwards writes, with respect to the cosmological argument from contingency, We can, then, properly explain the contingent beings around us only by tracing them back ultimately to some necessary being, to something which exists necessarily, which has "the reason for its existence within itself." The existence of contingent beings, in other words,

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implies the existence of a necessary being . . . To say that there is a necessary being is to say that it would be self-contradictory to deny its existence.3

Moreover, upon concluding that it is logical necessity which is involved in the conclusion of the argument, it is then fashionable to quickly dispense with the question of the validity of the cosmological argument on the grounds that it leads to a logically impossible conclusion. For example, from the phrasing of the conclusion of the cosmological argument in terms of logical necessity, Smart contends that the cosmological argument must therefore be invalid because this proposition is selfcontradictory. No existential proposition can be logically necessary. " 'A logically necessary being' is a self-contradictory expression like 'round square.' "4 J. N. Findlay goes even farther, arguing not simply that the cosmological argument is invalid because the conclusion is self-contradictory, but presenting what amounts to a disproof of God's existence on the same assumption that since "necessary," when applied to the divine being, is logical necessity, the existence of a necessary being is selfcontradictory and hence impossible.5 Thus, the claim is made that whether the cosmological argument concludes that a necessary being exists or that a divine being necessarily exists, in either case the necessity involved is of one particular kind, namely, logical necessity. Consequently, no matter which way one formulates the conclusion of the cosmological argument, it may be properly translated into "The proposition 'God exists' is logically necessary," and this latter proposition is evidently self-contradictory. But are Smart and others correct when they claim, first all, that the proposition "a necessary being exists" is equivalent to the proposition "a being necessarily exists"?6 Is the word "necessary" being used in precisely the same sense in both instances? Secondly, are they correct when they claim that both propositions are translatable into "the proposition 'God exists' is logically necessary"? That is, can they justify their claim that there is indeed only one kind of necessity, namely, logical necessity? And finally, when the cosmological argument argues to the existence of a necessary being, is it claiming that its

The Problem Of Necessity In The Conclusion

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conclusion is a logically necessary proposition, as Smart and others seem to think? In this chapter we want to attempt to unravel the confusion which surrounds the use of the word "necessary" as it is used with reference to divine existence, and in particular, as it manifests itself in the conclusion of the cosmological argument. Hopefully we can show that the majority of contemporary criticisms of the cosmological argument (i.e. those criticisms which, like Smart's, attack the conclusion of the argument as being self-contradictory) are not really so telling against the argument as their proponents would have us think. Rather these criticisms arise from the contemporary muddle which surrounds the use of "necessary" in the cosmological argument. The muddle, we will argue, has arisen because of the modern tendency to group all uses of "necessary" under one category, viz. logical necessity. Our contention will be that such a move is a mistake and that a proper analysis of the different uses of "necessary" involved in the conclusion of our argument will go a long way toward making the conclusion of the argument, and the theistic claims in general, both understandable and meaningful. TWO OCCURRENCES OF "NECESSARY" In the argument which we developed in Chapter 1, our conclusion was as follows: (S 6 ) Therefore, a necessary being exists. What is immediately apparent from this conclusion is that it employs two uses of "necessary." That this is the case can be brought out by translating the conclusion of the argument "Therefore, a necessary being exists," into "The proposition 'a necessary being exists' is necessary." What, then, can be said about the two uses of "necessary" here? Are they different, or is this merely an instance of emphatic reiteration? The first use of "necessary" is as an adjective which modifies "being." As a modifier or predicate of things or beings, "necessary" here signifies a certain characteristic of beings. What this characteristic is can be understood when it is compared with its opposite "contingent" (see S 3 ). A contingent being is

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one which, if it exists, could just as well not exist. There is no compulsion, logical or otherwise, that it exist. As such, it is intrinsically dependent on something else for its existence. Something else must cause and sustain its existence. On the other hand, to be a necessary being means that this being, if it exists, cannot not exist. It can neither be caused to be nor be caused not to be. Thus, if it exists, it is totally independent of all other beings; its existence can in no way be caused or temporally limited. Thus, "necessary" in this first sense (which we will designate NEC 1) is a qualifier of beings; by saying that a being is a necessary being, we are saying that if it exists, a certain mode of being must characterize it, i.e. it is independent of all other beings, uncaused and eternal. The second use of "necessary" here is not as a modifier of things or beings, but rather of propositions. To say that a proposition is necessary is to say that to deny that proposition would involve a contradiction, either with the proposition itself or with some set of conditions. Accordingly, we can categorize this second use of "necessary" (NEC 2) as the necessity which applies to propositions. Consequently, we have two uses of "necessary" here: the first as applicable to beings and the second as applicable to propositions. That these two occurrences of "necessary" are indeed different seems to be quite evident. On the one hand, we have those predicates which apply to objects and which signify characteristics of those objects; on the other hand, we have those predicates which apply to statements about those objects and which signify characteristics of those statements or propositions. Such is the case respectively with NEC 1 and NEC 2. Moreover, it is obvious that those predicates which apply to objects have quite different meanings when they apply to statements about those objects. For example, that an expression is ill-formed says nothing whatsoever about the character of the objects to which this expression refers. To say that the objects have an indeterminate shape because the expression about them is ill-formed is nothing less than to confuse the properties of objects with the properties of propositions about them. Similarly, failure to comply with the distinction between NEC 1 and


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NEC 2 results in the same confusion. It is a confusion of levels, confusion of the higher level of statements about objects with the level of objects themselves. The fact that we have here two different uses of "necessary" yields one very important result, a result which, if clearly understood, does much to alleviate the confusion surrounding the conclusion of the cosmological argument. With respect to NEC 1, whether this being exists or not is open to question. The fact that we speak about a necessary being does not imply that such a being exists. Indeed, speaking about a necessary being is similar to speaking about any other being, real or imaginary; the mention of the name does not imply that there is an ontological referent for that name. As talk about unicorns does not mean that such exist, so speech about necessary beings does not mean that such exist. Again, to say that something is a necessary being is merely to say that, if it exists, it cannot not exist. In fact, there is no contradiction involved in the denial that such a being does exist. That is, "A being which is such that if it exists, it cannot not exist, does not exist" is not self-contradictory. And it is not self-contradictory because in the conditional clause, which contains the definition of NEC 1, there is no claim of existence made. One can deny the hypothesis or condition without pain of self-contradiction. One can hold that the conditional clause is either true or false. If it is true, certain consequences follow; but if it is false, these consequences are no longer in effect. Thus, with respect to NEC 1, the existence of the divine being remains an open question. However—and this is the force of NEC 1—if this being does exist, if its existence can be established in some manner, then this being must be of such and such a character, viz. it cannot not exist. On the other hand, with respect to NEC 2, whether this being exists or not is not open to question. If its existence is necessary, then it is contradictory (either to itself or to something else) to say that it does not exist. That is, the denial of a necessary proposition must result in contradiction. We may conclude, then, that the concluding statement of the cosmological argument involves two different uses of the word "necessary." On one hand, by noting that the divine be-

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ing is a necessary being, it is claiming that it is a being which, if it exists, cannot not exist. It claims that this being, as an existent, is independent of all other beings, is uncaused, and cannot cease to exist. On the other hand, by claiming that the proposition itself is necessary (that a being necessarily exists) it is claiming that a denial of this being's existence involves a contradiction. Part of the confusion which surrounds discussions of the cosmological argument has arisen from the repeated failure to maintain a distinction between these two uses of "necessary"—between "necessary" as it is predicated of beings (as in "a necessary being exists") and "necessary" as it is predicated of propositions about these beings (as in "a being necessarily exists"). Understanding and utilizing this proper distinction goes a long way toward truly understanding the claim of the cosmological argument. The question which now arises is, Is the necessity which the conclusion of the cosmological argument invokes logical necessity? Is the existence of this being logically necessary? Since logical necessity is a theory about propositions, this question must be answered by a close look at NEC 2. We will return to the issues raised by NEC 1 in a later section. LOGICAL NECESSITY That the necessity involved in the conclusion of the cosmological argument is logical necessity seems to be the general view of contemporary philosophy. A prime example of such from J. J. C. Smart's article has already been given: The [cosmological] argument purports to argue to the existence of a necessary being. And by "a necessary being" the cosmological argument means "a logically necessary being," i.e. "a being whose nonexistence is inconceivable in the sort of way that a triangle's having four sides is inconceivable." 7

Therefore, that a logically necessary being exists is the conclusion of the cosmological argument. The same assumption underlies Terence Penelhum's analysis of the argument. It is important to see that what refutes it [the Ontological Proof] is not a discovery about the structure of things, which might in a given


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case be different, but a logical discovery about the concept of existence, which sets it apart from other concepts; that no tautology can be existential is a consequence of this. Another consequence is the refutation of our Existential Argument. For the distinctive characteristic of the concept of existence precludes our saying that there can be a being whose existence follows from his essence. . . . If all necessary propositions are tautologies, this explains why we cannot deny them. 8

Finally, J. N. Findlay, though not in direct reference to the cosmological argument, but dealing with precisely the same issue in respect to the theistic arguments in general, writes as follows: The true object of religious reverence must not be one, merely, to which no actual independent realities stand opposed: it must be one to which such opposition is totally inconceivable. . . . Not only must the existence of other things be unthinkable without him, but his own non-existence must be wholly unthinkable in any circumstances. There must, in short, be no conceivable alternative to an existence properly termed "divine." 8

First of all, what is meant by "logical necessity?" According to contemporary usage, for propositions to be logically necessary, they must be such that (1) their opposite must imply a contradiction, and (2) they must be "guaranteed solely by the rules for the use of the symbols they contain."10 That is, for a proposition to be logically necessary, it must be necessarily true solely in virtue of the meanings of the terms which compose it. The contradiction which characterizes its opposite must be produced by a manipulation of the meanings of the terms involved in the proposition; the truth and necessity of the proposition are determinable independently of any consideration of the states of affairs in the v/orld. But if the opposite of a logically necessary proposition is determined to be contradictory in this fashion, then it must be seZf-contradictory. That is, if the contradiction is determined solely through an analysis of the meanings of the terms involved, then it can contradict nothing else but itself. Thus a logically necessary proposition is one, the self-contradiction of whose opposite one must discern solely through an analysis of the meanings of the terms involved.11

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Returning to the point in question, we must query, Why is the conclusion of the cosmological argument thought to be logically necessary? The answer, it seems, is that for Smart and others there is no way a proposition can be necessary other than by being logically necessary. Smart in particular seems to believe that logical necessity is the only kind of necessity applicable to propositions. Thus, any proposition which is necessary must be logically necessary. Consequently, we are presented with two questions. First, must a proposition, to be necessary, be logically necessary? And secondly, is this the kind of necessity invoked by the conclusion of the cosmological argument? Obviously, if logical necessity is the only kind of necessity, then the answer to the second question is already determined. Therefore, since the first question is primary, let us attempt to discover an answer to it first. CONDITIONAL NECESSITY Must a proposition, to be necessary, be logically necessary? Must the opposite of every proposition which claims to be necessary be seZ/-contradictory? Must all necessary propositions be necessary simply in virtue of the meanings of the terms contained within the proposition? I think not. There are propositions which derive their necessity, not from an analysis of the meanings of the terms contained within the proposition, but rather from being the conclusion of a valid argument. The proposition follows necessarily from its premises. That such concluding statements are not logically necessary can be seen from the fact that they lack the two characteristics which are essential for a proposition to be logically necessary. On one hand, they are not self-contradictory. The denial of the conclusion of an argument does not lead to self-contradiction. Indeed, the opposite of such is perfectly conceivable; the conclusion, taken simply by itself, is nothing more than a contingent statement. What it does contradict is a certain set of conditions or premises. For example, in the standard argument, "All men are mortal, Socrates is a man, therefore Socrates is mortal," the denial of the concluding statement is not self-contradictory. If we denied that Socrates is mortal, we would not be contradicting


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ourselves, but rather contradicting a set of given premises or conditions. Thus, on this count a concluding statement of an argument is not logically necessary. On the other hand, the conclusion of an argument makes no claim to be necessary simply on the basis of an analysis of the meanings of the terms involved in the concluding proposition. If such were the case, then no argument would be necessary to support such a conclusion; the conclusion would be self-evident. But such an argument is essential to establish the type of proposition which we are considering. For example, it is not self-evident that Socrates is mortal; we must appeal to other relevant facts to support this. Thus, on neither count can the conclusion of an argument be considered to be logically necessary. However, this is not to say that the conclusion is not necessary. Indeed, it is necessary; its opposite does imply a contradiction. But the contradiction which is implied is not selfcontradiction, but rather a contradiction of a certain set of conditions or premises. The conclusion is necessary, but it is necessary because it is the conclusion of a valid argument: the conclusion follows necessarily from its premises. Thus, though it is not logically necessary, the conclusion is still necessary; it is necessitated by a certain set of conditions. Consequently, we have an answer to our first question. A proposition does not have to be logically necessary in order to be necessary. It can be necessary in that to deny it involves a contradiction with respect to a certain set of conditions or premises. Thus, we have at least two kinds of necessity which can characterize propositions: a proposition can be logically necessary, or it can be conditionally necessary, i.e. necessary with respect to certain conditions or premises. The Conclusion of the Cosmological Argument Uses Conditional Necessity The question still remains as to which kind of necessity the cosmological argument invokes. Granted that there is another kind of necessity than logical necessity, is this other kind of necessity the necessity involved in the cosmological argu-

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ment? It seems that we must answer this in the affirmative. This can be seen, first of all, from the fact that the concluding statement of the argument does not claim that its necessity can be determined simply on the basis of an analysis of the meanings of the terms involved in itself. Indeed, if such were the case, then no argument would be needed to establish this conclusion; the concluding statement would be self-evident, apart from the appeal to any such argument like the cosmological. Rather, it claims to be necessary only insofar as it is the conclusion of a valid cosmological argument. Secondly, the conclusion makes no claim to be such that its opposite implies a self-contradiction. Indeed, it claims just the opposite. If the conclusion is taken by itself, the proposition is contingent; to deny that a necessary being exists, as we have argued above, is not self-contradictory. Rather, what is contradicted by its opposite is a set of conditions or premises, viz. the premises of the cosmological argument. Thus, the necessity which belongs to it does so because it is the conclusion of a valid argument; it follows necessarily from its premises. Thus, the necessity involved in the cosmological argument is not logical necessity, but what we have called conditional necessity. The conclusion is necessitated by the premises or conditions. Or put another way, the existence of a necessary being is necessitated by the existence of contingent beings; if there are contingent beings, then a necessary being is required in order to explain their existence. The Conclusion Is Not Self-contradictory This conclusion has one very important consequence. It has been a standard criticism of the cosmological argument that the proposition "God exists," if it is necessary, is self-contradictory. "The demand that the existence of God should be logically necessary is thus a self-contradictory one."12 The argument which forms the core of this criticism is simply this. A logically necessary proposition is one whose opposite is selfcontradictory. Hence, it could not conceivably be other than it is. However, the opposite of an informative or existential proposition is conceivable; that which we can conceive to exist we can


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likewise, without contradiction, conceive to be nonexistent. Consequently, we are affirming two diametrically opposed elements of the proposition simultaneously; we are saying that the opposite of the proposition is both impossible and possible at the same time. Consequently, "God necessarily exists" is self-contradictory. As such, the cosmological argument is suspect, for it concludes to a self-contradictory proposition. However, this criticism is predicated upon the supposition that it is logical necessity which is involved in the conclusion of the argument. But such, as we have argued, is not the case. The conclusion is conditionally, not logically, necessary. And once we properly distinguish the type of necessity involved, it is clear that no such contradiction, as Smart and Findlay have visualized, is present. As a logically contingent, conditionally necessary proposition, the opposite of the conclusion of the cosmological argument does not lead to self-contradiction. The opposite of the proposition, far from being impossible, is perfectly possible; "a necessary being does not exist" is not selfcontradictory. The proposition is necessary, but only in the sense that it follows necessarily from certain premises. In other words, since there exist contingent beings, there must exist a necessary being. Consequently, Smart's claim that the conclusion is selfcontradictory is void, for there is no claim made that the opposite of the conclusion is inconceivable, only that it contradicts a certain given set of premises, e.g. that there exist contingent beings. "NECESSARY" AS PREDICATED OF BEINGS There remain two more issues which must be dealt with when we consider the necessity which belongs to the divine being. Thus far, in explicating the type of necessity involved in the cosmological argument, we have contended that with respect to NEC 2 this is conditional, not logical, necessity. But what of NEC 1? Can we properly predicate "necessary" of beings? Is not "necessary" a vacuous term when applied to beings? And perhaps a bit more difficult, what of the necessity involved here? In recent years it has been claimed that "necessary" can only be predicated of propositions and not of beings. " 'Neces-

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sary' is a predicate of propositions, not of things." 13 That is, when "necessary" is applied to beings, it is a completely vacuous term. But as Penelhum notes, "It is pedantic of philosophers to insist that these words ["necessary" and "contingent"] only apply to propositions and not to things."14 Moreover, as I hope now to show, not only is such a claim pedantic, but it is false. "Necessary," far from being a vacuous term, can be given a definite meaning when applied to beings. What, then, does it mean for something to be a necessary being? What does it mean for a being to be such that, if it exists, it cannot not exist? First of all, it means that on one hand, this being can never come or be brought into existence. If it does not now exist, it never will exist, for it can in no way come into existence. If it does now exist, it has always been in existence; there has been no time prior to which it did not exist. On the other hand, it means that this being can never cease to exist. If it does not now exist, it never has existed, for otherwise it would have had to pass out of existence at some prior time. If it does now exist, then it can never be annihilated; it will never pass out of existence. In short, to be a necessary being means that if it does not exist now it never has been and never will be; but if it does exist now, it always has been and ever will be: it is eternal. Secondly, this being, as an existing necessary being, must be self-sufficient and self-sustaining. It must be capable of eternally maintaining its own existence. Thus, it provides the sufficient reason for its own existence; the reason why a necessary being exists cannot be sought in the causal activity of any other being. And finally, this being must be independent of all other beings. Neither its characteristics nor its existence can be derived from any other being. In summary, to be a necessary being means that one is an eternally existing being, self-sufficient, and independent of all other beings. In short, it is "virtually equivalent to aseity or self-existence."15 Thus, far from being a vacuous term when applied to beings, "necessary" has a very definite and important meaning. With reference to the second issue, it may be asked, as


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Alvin Plantinga recently does, What is meant here by "cannot" when we define the word "necessary," when applied to beings, as meaning that if the being exists, it cannot not exist? What type of impossibility is involved in this case? Obviously we do not want to say that it is a logical impossibility. If it were thus, we would have to say that we have a being with the characteristic such that it is logically impossible that it not exist. But if this were the case, then we would no longer need the cosmological argument to prove this being's existence; we could readily discover that it must exist merely from an analysis of the subject term. That is, if the "cannot" involved here were a logical impossibility, we would simply have the ontological argument, couched in a clever but unnecessary disguise. But such is completely contrary to the claim of the cosmological argument. As we have argued above, the very role of the argument is to prove the existence of a being whose existence is not selfevident. Thus, it would be contrary to the very nature of the cosmological argument to interpret the necessity in "necessary being" as being logical necessity. Moreover, not only is it the case that we do not want to say that it is logical necessity which is involved because such is contrary to the tenor of the cosmological argument; it is also the case that we cannot claim that it is logical necessity which is involved. It should be remembered from our discussion above of logical necessity that those propositions which are logically necessary are determined to be such independently of the states of affairs in the world. The self-contradiction of their opposites is determined simply by an analysis of the meanings of the terms involved in the statement. Since their opposites are to be determined to be self-contradictory in this manner, they are at heart tautologies. The opposite of a necessary proposition must be of the form A is non-A. If its opposite is of this form, then a necessary proposition must be of the form A is A. That is, a logically necessary proposition must be a tautology. But if they are tautologous, they are completely uninformative. They cannot be "confirmed or refuted by any fact of experience."17 They are devoid of any factual content, and consequently say nothing whatsoever about the world.18 Thus, logically necessary

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propositions are by nature uninformative about the world; they are neither applicable to nor derived from i t Their role is to "enlighten us by illustrating how we use certain symbols . . . to call attention to linguistic usages, of which we might otherwise not be conscious."19 But the necessity with which we are concerned here is a necessity which does have to do with the real world. It is a necessity predicated of beings, not of symbols. It is a necessity projected into the real world, not a necessity resulting simply from conventional definitions. Moreover, it is also informative about these existents; it presents us with a determinate characteristic of these beings. Hence, the necessity involved in NEC 1 cannot be logical necessity, for it is a necessity to be found in the real world, not in virtue of our language about the world. On the other hand, neither can it be what Plantinga designates as a causal impossibility. "A causally necessary being would be one (presumably) whose existence was entailed by causal laws, or the laws of nature (but not by just any statement)." 20 But by definition this being is uncaused; it neither causes itself nor is caused by another. Hence causal impossibility must likewise be ruled out. Rather, the impossibility or necessity involved in NEC 1 is a natural or real impossibility or necessity. That is to say, the necessity follows from the very nature of the existent. It is of God's very essence that if he exists, he cannot not exist. It is of God's very nature that he is not dependent on any other being, that he cannot be brought into existence nor made to cease to exist. These characteristics (which are those of NEC 1) derive from the very nature, the very being, of the divine being. Therefore, the necessity is more than the result of mere verbal convention. God was a necessary being prior to and independent of any human verbalization of such. Thus, the necessity involved in NEC 1 is not logical or causal necessity, but real necessity.21 CONCLUSION We have, then, the answer to the questions which we posed at the outset of this chapter. First of all, the proposition "a necessary being exists" is not equivalent to "a being necessarily


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exists." The necessity predicated of beings is different from that predicated of propositions; these two different uses must not be confused. Secondly, we have contended that there is more than one kind of necessity. We have isolated at least three kinds of necessity: that predicated of beings, logical necessity predicated of propositions, and conditional necessity predicated of propositions. Finally, it is not the case that the necessity which is involved in the cosmological argument is logical necessity. In particular, the cosmological argument does not contend for a being whose existence is logically necessary. Rather, it contends for the logically contingent, conditionally necessary existence of a necessary being, a being which, if it exists, cannot not exist. It concludes to a conditionally necessary proposition about a necessary being, a being which is independent of all other beings, which can neither be caused to exist nor cease to exist. And as such, the argument avoids the contemporary criticism that its conclusion is self-contradictory. Such a criticism is based on the mistaken assumption that the necessity involved in the conclusion of the argument is of only one kind, and that is logical necessity. NOTES 1. J. J. C. Smart, "The Existence of God." In Antony Flew and Alasdair Maeintyre (Eds.), New Essays in Philosophical Theology (New York, Macmillan, 1955), p. 38. 2. C. B. Martin, Religious Belief (Ithaca, N. Y., Cornell University Press, 1959), p. 151. 3. Paul Edwards, A Modern Introduction to Philosophy (New York, Macmillan, 1965), p. 381. 4. Smart, op. cit., p. 39. See also Edwards, op. cit., "To talk about anything 'existing necessarily' is . . . about as sensible as to talk about round squares." 5. J. N. Findlay, "Can God's Existence Be Disproved?" In New Essays in Philosophical Theology, (see note 1), p. 52. 6. They are obviously in good company. See Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, A585, 587, 588, 606. Also Frederick Copleston and Bertrand Russell, "A Debate on the Existence of God." In John Hick (Ed.), The Existence of God (New York, Macmillan, 1964), p. 169. 7. Smart, op. cit., p. 38.

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8. Terence Penelhum, "Divine Necessity" Mind, LXIX, No. 274 (April, 1960), pp. 180-181. 9. Findlay, op. cit., p. 52. 10. Smart, op cit., p. 38. See Penelhum, op. cit., p. 185, "A proposition is necessary if its truth can be known without reference to anything other than a clear understanding of what is said or implied in it." 11. See Findlay, op cit., p. 54. Also A. J. Ayer, Language, Truth and Logic (New York, Dover Publications, 1946), pp. 22, 31, 73f. 12. Smart, op cit., p. 39. 13. Ibid., p. 38; Copleston and Russell, op. cit., p . 169. 14. Penelhum, op. cit., p. 185. 15. John Hick, Philosophy of Religion (Englewood Cliffs, N. J., Prentice-Hall, 1963), p. 23. It should be made clear that I am not claiming that this has been the historical position with respect to the meaning of "necessary" as applied to beings. As Patterson Brown has shown in "St. Thomas's Doctrine of Necessary Being," The Philosophical Review, LXXIII (January, 1964), this is certainly not Thomas's meaning. What I am claiming is that this is a consistent and adequate analysis of "necessary" as applicable to beings. 16. Alvin Plantinga, God and Other Minds (Ithaca, N. Y., Cornell University Press, 1967), p. 22. 17. Ayer, op cit., p. 16. 18. Ibid., p. 79. 19. Ibid., pp. 79-80. 20. Plantinga, op. cit., pp. 22-23. 21. One should be careful not to confuse the real necessity predicated of beings with that predicated of propositions (in Ch. 4 ) . A being is a necessary being if it is such that if it exists, it cannot not exist. A proposition is really necessary if its opposite is contradictory because it denies or contradicts the very nature or essential structure of the world.

Chapter 7

IS THE COSMOLOGICAL ARGUMENT DEPENDENT UPON THE ONTOLOGICAL ARGUMENT? UNDOUBTEDLY ONE of the most persistent criticisms of the cosmological argument has been the contention that it depends upon the ontological argument for its validity. For example, note the recent statement of H. J. Paton:

So far the concept of God as an absolutely necessary being is entirely vague and indeterminate. Something is supposed in some sense to exist, but we are told nothing more about it except what it is not. If we are to mean anything definite, we must make the negative concept of a non-contingent or necessary being into a positive one. How is this to be done? The first step is to say that a necessary being is its own ground, its own condition, its own cause. . . . We are invited to take yet a further step. A necessary being is one whose non-existence is inconceivable — that is, it is one whose essence is the ground of its existence. These words have a familiar ring. We have been edged back gradually to the old ontological argument, which we are now asked to take for granted. To sum up — the cosmological argument cannot prove the existence of God without the aid of the ontological argument, and this may be the underlying reason why the ontological argument had to be invented.1 The contention of those who hold to this objection is that the cosmological argument by itself cannot yield any positive results. Without the ontological argument we have no means of positively identifying the being whose existence it is supposedly attempting to prove. What we are given is at best "vague and indeterminate." In order to clarify and make determinate the 123

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being proven to exist, in order to "make the negative concept of a non-contingent or necessary being into a positive one," the concept of a most real being (ens realissimum) is introduced. "Unless we can show that we possess such a concept—whether it be the concept of a perfect being, a supreme being, or a most real being—the whole cosmological argument must fail to prove the existence of an absolutely necessary being in any positive sense."2 Thus, since the cosmological argument must ultimately appeal to the ontological argument, it is ultimately dependent upon the ontological argument for its validity. But this yields a curious conclusion. Paton writes, "If the ontological argument is valid, the cosmological argument is superfluous. If the ontological argument is invalid, the cosmological argument must be invalid too."3 Thus, seemingly, advocates of the cosmological argument are impaled on the horns of a dilemma: either the cosmological argument is superfluous in that all that is necessary to prove the existence of the necessary being is the ontological argument, or it is invalid in that the ontological argument on which it is based is invalid. In light of our argument in the first chapter, this is surely an unhappy dilemma. But is the cosmological argument dependent on the ontological argument? Granted that it has been thought to be dependent, why has it been thought to be such? What reason can be given for such a claim? Paton's analysis is merely a summation of the fuller argument to which contemporary critics appeal, i.e. Kant's argument as presented in the Critique of Pure Reason. Let us turn to this traditional formulation as the locus chssicus of the purported proof of dependence. What is said with respect to Kant will, I think, apply equally to such contemporary critics as Paton. KANT'S ANALYSIS OF THE ARGUMENT According to Kant, the cosmological argument can be divided into two parts, namely, that part which appeals to experience, and that in which pure reason alone is operative.4 And for him, it is this analysis which reveals to us the (objectionable) fact that the cosmological proof is either dependent

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upon or reducible to the ontological proof. Let us see how he develops this. According to Kant, the cosmological argument, in its first part, concludes that an absolutely necessary being exists. The argument proceeds as follows: "If anything exists, an absolutely necessary being must also exist. Now I, at least, exist. Therefore an absolutely necessary being exists."5 Or stated in another way, If we admit something as existing, no matter what this something may be, we must also admit that there is something that exists necessarily. . . . That there must be something that exists with absolute necessity, is regarded as having been established by the first step of the argument. 6

Thus, the first step proceeds from the fact that a contingent being exists to the necessity that there exist an absolutely necessary something. But this something which necessarily exists is indeterminate; the first part of the argument only leads us to "the concept of absolute necessity, but is unable to demonstrate this necessity as belonging to any determinate thing."7 That is to say, the first part of the argument only yields the fact that something necessarily exists; it concludes with the existence of some necessary being, but the argument does not inform us as to exactly what or who this being is. "What properties this being may have,"8 how many such beings there are, who the being is—all this the argument fails to tell us. Indeed, Kant contends that the argument leaves open the possibility that this being might even be a limited being. He writes as follows: [Even granting the argument] it by no means follows that the concept of a limited being which does not have the highest reality is for that reason incompatible with absolute necessity. For although I do not find in its concept that unconditioned which is involved in the concept of the totality of conditions, we are not justified in concluding that its existence must for this reason be conditioned. . . . On the contrary, we are entirely free to hold that any limited beings whatsoever, notwithstanding their being limited, may also be unconditionally necessary. . . . Thus the argument has failed to give us the least concept of the properties of a necessary being, and indeed, is utterly ineffective.9

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All that the first part concludes is that an indeterminate something necessarily exists. Thus, a second part is required to complete the argument, a part which provides us with a concept by which we can know or recognize this necessary being. In this stage, pure reason chooses from its warehouse of concepts that one which is most suitable to and most compatible with the concept of necessary existence. And the concept which it finds to be most compatible is the concept of an ens realissimum. "Now there is only one possible concept which determines a thing completely a priori, namely, the concept of the ens realissimum. The concept of the ens realissimum is therefore the only concept through which a necessary being can be thought."10 Thus reason, by its own workings, through its own concepts, supplies us with the concept by which we can know that which necessarily exists. It is reason alone, in the second part, that determines which concept is most compatible with it. It can appeal to nothing else to determine the possessor of absolutely necessary existence. Kant then raises his objection to the introduction of the use of pure reason, for, to him, this means that we have surreptitiously introduced the ontological argument in the second part. Kant writes as follows: But it is evident that we are here presupposing that the concept of the highest reality is completely adequate to the concept of absolute necessity of existence, that is, that the latter can be inferred from the former. Now this is the proposition maintained by the ontological proof; it is here being assumed in the cosmological proof; and indeed, is made the basis of the proof. . . - 11

Kant's objection is that the cosmological argument is based on the ontological argument, such that the validity of the former is entirely dependent on that of the latter. The cosmological proof intrinsically relies on the ontological argument for its cogency. However, Kant does not stop at this point, but even goes further to say that the cosmological argument reduces to, is nothing more than, the ontological proof. Appeal is made to the agreement of two witnesses. . . . In reality the only witness is that which speaks in the name of pure reason; in the endeavor to pass as a second witness it merely changes its

Is Cosmological Argument Dependent Upon Ontological Agrument? 127 dress and voice. . . . Thus, the so-called cosmological proof really owes any cogency which it may have to the ontological proof from mere concepts. The appeal to experience is quite superfluous.12

This really boils down to saying that the cosmological argument is nothing more than the ontological argument in a new dress. Though it appeals to experience, when we analyze it, it is really arguing from a priori concepts all along. All that is necessary to the cosmological argument is presented in the second part, which argues from pure reason alone. Moreover, since, according to Kant, the ontological proof is invalid, so also is the cosmological proof which is based on it. Thus if, as Kant claims, the cosmological argument is based on or reducible to the ontological, and if the latter is invalid, then the cosmological argument must be rejected as invalid, for it yields no proof for the existence of any necessary being. In dealing with this criticism there are two possible defenses. On one hand we might attempt to defend the validity of the ontological argument, and in this way rescue the cosmological. Or else, we might try to show that the cosmological proof is in no way dependent on the ontological. It is the latter which will be attempted here. But how can we show that the cosmological proof is independent of the ontological? To do such, it seems that we must answer two questions. First, in what way does the cosmological argument supposedly depend on the ontological argument? I hope to show that Kant's claim of dependence cannot be sustained, for the conclusion of the cosmological argument cannot be converted into the principle of the ontological argument, as he thought it could. The second question might be put, Why is the cosmological proof thought to depend on the ontological? Our answer to this will hopefully reveal both the basic misconception on the part of Kant as to the nature of the cosmological argument and also his misconception as to the nature of the necessity involved in it. Let us now consider these questions in this order. How Does the Cosmological Argument Depend on the Ontological Argument? Kant claims that the cosmological proof intrinsically de-

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pends upon the ontological proof for its validity. We might formalize Kant's argument as follows: Part One: 1. If anything exists, an absolutely necessary being exists. 2. I exist. 3. .'. An absolutely necessary being exists. Part Two: 4. Every absolutely necessary being is the most real being. 5. Some most real beings are absolutely necessary beings. 6. All most real beings are completely (in all respects) the same. 7. .'. All most real beings are absolutely necessary beings. 8. .'. All most real beings exist. or 8'. All most real beings necessarily exist.13 But, argues Kant, the inference in 8' is precisely the inference made by the ontological argument. The ontological argument contends that from the mere concept of the most real being we can derive the fact that this being exists in reality. The concept, and the concept alone, of this being is sufficient to lead us to its necessary existence. But is this not the claim, he asks, of the cosmological argument in 8'? He writes as follows: But since this proposition is determined from its a priori concepts alone, the mere concept of the ens realissimum must carry with it the absolute necessity of that being; and this is precisely what the ontological proof has asserted and what the cosmological proof has refused to admit, although the conclusions of the latter are indeed covertly based on it.14

Thus, Part Two concludes to the principle of the ontological proof, such that the cosmological proof is dependent for its validity on the ontological, for it is claiming that from the concept of a most real being, we can arrive at its necessary existence. But is Kant correct in his claim that 8' is the thesis of the ontological argument? Is the truth of 8' determined solely on the basis of concepts? I think not, and for two reasons. First of all, 8' is a conclusion which follows logically from two prior

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conclusions, 3 and 7. Moreover, conclusion 3 is an existential statement, stating that the necessary being exists in reality. Hence, it is false to say that 8' is determined from its concepts alone; rather, it is a conclusion from two prior conclusions, one of which is an existential statement. Kant, it seems, has forgotten that the first part of the argument has already proven that a necessary (and hence by 7 a most real) being exists. Thus, the ontological argument is not involved at all in the second part, for the truth of 8' depends not on the argument from concept to reality, but on the fact that the existence of the necessary being has already been established, something the ontological argument purports to do by itself, without any help from previous proofs. That 8' is not an "argument from concepts" can, I think, be shown in a second way. The argument as formulated by Kant concludes that all most real beings necessarily exist. What is meant here by "necessarily"? Kant obviously interprets "necessarily" here in the sense of logically necessary, for he writes, "Absolute necessity is an existence determined from mere concepts."15 And if it is determined from mere concepts, it must be determined on the basis of the meanings of its terms and the principles of logic. Thus, Kant seems to be contending that the proposition which asserts the necessary existence of the most real being is logically necessary; the denial of such is self-contradictory. Moreover, this is also the claim of the ontological argument. The ontological argument, he notes, seeks to move from the absolute necessity of the judgment (logical necessity) to the absolute necessity of things.16 But is this really the claim being made in 8'? I think not. To begin with, the necessity predicated of "exists" in 8' is the same as that found in 3. Just as we translated 8 into 8', so 3 can be translated into 3': an absolutely necessary being necessarily exists. In both cases, the necessity which modifies "exists" derives from the "therefore" which modifies the entire proposition. Hence, both uses of "necessarily" are the same, such that what we discover about the nature of "necessarily exists" in 3' will likewise apply to 8'. Now to what, in 3', is this necessary existence owed? It is owed, is it not, to the condition of the

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existence of the "I" in 1: If I exist, then (necessarily so) we know that an absolutely necessary being exists. The necessity follows upon prior conditions. In other words, the necessity predicated here of "exists" is conditional necessity, not logical necessity; if something like myself exists, then a necessary being must (necessarily) exist. And since the necessity predicated of "exists" in 8' is the same, 8' likewise uses conditional necessity when it claims that the most real being necessarily exists. Thus the cosmological argument is not claiming that the denial of 8' or 3' is self-contradictory; rather it is saying that the opposite of these propositions contradicts certain conditions. But if this is the case, 8' is not the principle of the ontological argument, for this argument claims that the denial of its conclusion about the existence of the ens realissimum is self-contradictory. Thus, 8' is not moving from the necessity of the judgment to the absolute necessity of existence. Whereas such a move involves logical necessity, the move here involves only conditional necessity. Hence, 8' is not the principle of the ontological argument, but is logically derived from 3 and 7. In sum, Kant's contention that the cosmological proof expressed in the above form has appealed ultimately to the ontological proof cannot be sustained. The proof is not claiming in 8' to argue from concept to reality, but 8' is clearly derived from 7 and 3, of which the latter proposition is a conditionally necessary, existential statement. Why Does the Cosmological Argument Depend on the Ontological Argument? Turning to the second query posed above, why is it that the cosmological argument depends, or is thought to depend, upon the ontological argument? Or put another way, why does Part One of Kant's argument (which is the cosmological aspect) need Part Two (which is supposedly the ontological aspect)? Why is not Part One sufficient in and of itself to establish the conclusion of the cosmological argument? Kant's answer to this has already been given, namely, that the cosmological proof needs the ontological proof in order to deter-

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mine what being possesses the mode of absolutely necessary existence. He writes as follows: The appeal is made to the agreement of two witnesses, the one with the credentials of pure reason and the other with those of experience. . . . What properties this being may have, the empirical premise cannot tell us. 1 7

That is to say, the cosmological proof depends on the ontological proof (Part Two) in order to identify this being. And it does this by informing us as to what positive properties it has. The why question is answered, then, by stating that the cosmological argument depends on the ontological in order to supply the positive properties which this being has, so that we may determine who this absolutely necessary being is. But in this regard Kant seems to have confused the cosmological argument itself with the further determinations by means of reason of the nature of the being to which we have argued. The cosmological argument proposes only to tell us that a necessary being exists; what this being is like, what characteristics or properties it has, these require additional consideration beyond the concern of the argument proper.18 That is, it is one thing to prove that something exists; it is quite another to describe or characterize this existent. These additional determinations extend beyond the scope of the cosmological argument and as such have no bearing on the validity of the argument. The point here is simply that it is one thing to contend for the existence of something; it is quite another to state what that something is like. For example, in the argument, "If anything eats, it exists; man eats; therefore man exists;" we are attempting to prove that man exists. But whether man is tall or short, bald or bearded, young or old, Negro or Caucasian, these characteristics are all irrelevant to the validity of this argument for man's existence. They may be interesting features of man, but they cannot be considered to be an essential part of this particular argument. The case is similar with the cosmological argument. Kant puts the cosmological argument, "If anything exists, a necessary being exists; I exist; therefore a necessary being exists." The

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argument endeavors to establish that a necessary being exists. But whether this necessary being be good or evil, omnipotent or limited in power, infinite or finite, most real or not, may be interesting but hardly relevant to the validity of the argument itself. Thus, Kant's stated reason for why the second part of the argument is necessary, i.e. that it is needed to tell us what properties this being has, is based on a misconception as to the nature of the cosmological argument. Kant has rightly noticed that the first part of his stated cosmological argument proves the existence of some necessary being, but this part is in no way dependent for its validity on a second part. It should be clear, of course, that we would not take exception to the a priori clarification and development of the properties and characteristics of this being. Our objection is not to Kant's second part as calling for the a priori elucidation of the properties of this necessary being, but rather to the inclusion of this as essential to the cosmological argument and, indeed, to making the validity of the argument depend on this part. Further determination of the characteristics of this being is extrinsic to the establishment of its existence, and not essential to it, as Kant thought. However, Kant, I think, would reply that perhaps he expressed himself badly, that he is not attempting to state further properties of this being, but simply attempting to discover some one concept by which to identify the being whose existence the first part has established, and that the first part does not even supply this one determinate concept. Without such a determinate concept, the conclusion of the cosmological argument is merely the statement that something (I know not what) exists necessarily. But this, since it fails to identify this being, since it lacks any concept by which we might determine this being, is simply useless information; it supplies us merely with a "mode of existing" without informing us as to what being possesses this mode of existence. But surely, Kant would continue, this is not the purpose of the cosmological argument! Its purpose is to prove to us the existence of some particular being, and to tell us who (or what) this particular being is—to identify it. The conclusion of the argument is that some particular being

Is Cosmological Argument Dependent Upon Ontological Agrument? 133

exists, not merely that there is some kind or mode of existence. And if there exists a particular being, then the argument must provide the concept by which we can identify it. Indeed, such a determining or identifying concept must be integral to the argument itself. But since the first part of the cosmological argument does not provide any such determining concept, we must appeal to a second part, which happens to be convertible into the principle of the ontological argument. Therefore, the cosmological argument, in order to achieve its goal, is intrinsically dependent upon the ontological argument. In order to deal with this objection, we must recall an important distinction made in the last chapter. There we noted that in the conclusion of the cosmological argument were two different occurrences of "necessary." The one use of "necessary" (NEC 1) was as a qualifier of beings: by saying that a being is a necessary being, we are saying that if it exists, it cannot not exist. The second was of "necessary" (NEC 2) was as a modifier of propositions: to say that a proposition is necessary is to say that to deny that proposition would involve a contradiction, either with the proposition itself or with some set of conditions. Moreover, these two uses of "necessary" were seen to be different, for to identify them would be to confuse predicates which apply to beings with those which apply only to the propositions made about such. Hence, these two uses should be kept separate, and not be confused with each other. But it is precisely such a confusion which lies at the heart of Kant's contention that the first part needs the second part. That Kant has made such a confusion of these two kinds of necessity is borne out by the fact that, for Kant, the phrase "absolutely necessary being" is equivalent to the phrase "necessarily exists." Indeed, throughout this passage Kant uses these phrases interchangeably. For example, Kant writes, "The concept of the ens realissimum is therefore the only concept through which a necessary being can be thought. In other words, a supreme being necessarily exists."19 It is the identification of these two phrases which makes him guilty of confusing characteristics of beings with those of statements about such. Moreover (and more important for our discussion), it is

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this confusion which has prevented him from observing that the cosmological argument does indeed identify this being in NEC 1. The argument in its first part concludes that this existent is a necessary being—a being which, if it exists, cannot not exist. As such, the argument itself gives us a positive concept by which we can identify this being as a particular being; it informs us that this being possesses the essential characteristics which are the opposite of those found in a contingent being. In the last chapter we attempted to lay out what it meant for a being to be a necessary being. First, we noted that, on one hand, it meant that this being can never come or be brought into existence. If it does not now exist, it never will exist; if it does now exist, it always has been in existence. On the other hand, it means that this being can never cease to exist. If it does not now exist, it never has existed, for otherwise it would have had to pass out of existence at some prior time. If it does now exist, it can never be annihilated; it will never pass out of existence. In short, it is eternal. Secondly, a necessary being must be self-sufficient and self-sustaining; it provides the sufficient reason for its own existence, as well as for that of other beings. Hence, to be a necessary being is to be an eternally existing being, self-sufficient, self-explanatory, and independent of all other beings. When we unpack the concept of necessity used here, we discover that the argument itself (in the first of Kant's two parts) does indeed identify this being which necessarily exists. The conclusion is not that some indeterminate being necessarily exists, or that we have merely a mode of existence called necessary existence, but rather, that a necessary—a particular, determinate—being necessarily exists. The first part itself identifies this being; to say that this being is a necessary being is sufficient to identify it. Therefore, the cosmological argument does not need the ontological argument (Kant's second stage) to provide the concept by which we determine who this being is. Kant's claim to the contrary seems to rest on a failure to distinguish the necessity which is applicable to beings from that which is applicable to propositions. In short, talk about or proofs for the existence of the ens realissimum, ens perfectissimum, or such like, are quite foreign to the cosmological argument.

Is Cosmological Argument

Dependent

Upon Ontological

Agrumtint?

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CONCLUSION

We have attempted to show that the traditional reasons given by Kant to show that the cosmological proof is dependent upon the ontological proof cannot be sustained. Those who contend that the cosmological proof needs the ontological in order to identify the being to which we have argued not only fail to see that the characterization of this being lies outside the realm of the proof per se, but due to a confusion of the necessity which is characteristic of beings with that which is applicable to statements and propositions, they also fail to see that the cosmological argument does indeed, in and of itself, provide a concept by which we can identify this being which exists. Furthermore, the demonstration given by Kant to show that the conclusion of the cosmological argument is the principle of the ontological argument does not yield the above result. It is not arguing from concept to necessary existence in reality, but concludes to the realm of existence from a prior premise which had already established such existence. But the latter is not the ontological argument, for whereas this argument claims to be able to prove the existence of a necessary being without prior proof, the conclusion in 8' depends upon such prior proof of existence. Hence, those who contend in this fashion that the cosmological argument rests upon the ontological argument seem badly mistaken. NOTES 1. H. J. Paton, The Modern Predicament (New York, Collier Books, 1955), pp. 202-203. 2. Ibid., p. 203. 3. Ibid., p. 203. 4. Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, trans, by Norman Kemp Smith (New York, St. Martin's Press, 1965), A584, 585, 606. It is obviously the first part — the appeal to experience — which sets the cosmological argument apart from the ontological argument. Whereas the latter appeals solely to pure reason, the former "really begins with experience, and is not wholly a priori or ontological" (A605). 5. Ibid., A604. 6. Ibid., A584, 585, See Paton, op. cit., pp. 196-199. 7. Ibid., A607. See Paton, op. cit., p. 202. 8. Ibid., A606. 9. Ibid., A588.

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10. Ibid., A605. 11. Ibid., A607. See Paton, op. cit., p. 203. 12. Ibid., A606-607. 13. Ibid., A608. 14. Ibid., A608. 15. Ibid., A607. 16. Ibid., A593, 594. 17. Ibid., A606. This likewise seems to be the objection raised by Paton (see note 1), p. 202. 18. Aquinas himself recognized this distinction. The cosmological arguments presented in Question Two of the Summa Theologica intend to establish that, for example, a first cause exists, but it is the task of the further reasoning of Question Three and following, which are outside the domain of the cosmological argument, to establish what properties this being has, what characterizes it. 19. Ibid., A606. See also A585, 587, 588, 607. Also see Paton, op. cit., p. 199.

Chapter 8

THE NECESSARY BEING AND GOD yJ NE OBJECTION to the traditional formulations of the cosmological argument has been that they include an illicit move from "there exists an unmoved mover" or "there exists a first cause" to "there exists a God." Copleston writes as follows: It might seem to be rather cavalier behaviour on St. Thomas's part to assume that the unmoved mover or the first cause or the necessary being is what we call God. Obviously if anything exists at all, there must be a necessary Being . . . but it is not so obvious that the necessary being must be the personal Being whom we call God. [Indeed] does a purely philosophical argument give us a personal Being at all? Did St. Thomas's belief in God lead him perhaps to find more in the conclusion of the argument than was actually there? Because he was looking for arguments to prove the existence of the God in whom he believed, was he not perhaps over-hasty in identifying the first mover, the first cause and the necessary being with the God of Christianity and religious experience, the personal Being to whom man can pray?1 Or as H. J. Paton states: It seems that the cosmological argument, even if it can prove the existence of something, cannot prove without the aid of further premises that this "something" is God. . . . It is hardly necessary to remind ourselves that even if the cosmological argument were valid, it would not be a proof of the existence of God.2 And more recently, William Alston states: At the end of each of his arguments Aquinas appends a phrase like "and this everyone understands to be God," or "This all men speak of as God." The reader might well wonder about the basis for this, especially in the first three arguments. Why should we suppose that a necessary being, which requires no cause outside itself, would have the personal attributes contained in the notion of God? Why should a first cause not be an impersonal force of some sort, or, if a personal being, why should it not be evil rather than good?3 137

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The Cosmological

Argument

Traditionally, then, it seems that a determination of the identity of this being was deemed a part of the cosmological argument. But on what basis can one identify this being with the divine? Must this necessary being be God? Cannot it be the world or the material universe? Or, on the other side of the ledger, need the argument make such an identification of the necessary being in order to be valid? Is the criticism of the move from "there exists a necessary being" to "there exists a God" really an attack against the cosmological argument itself? The answers to these questions will occupy our attention in this final chapter. THE MATERIAL UNIVERSE AND THE NECESSARY BEING It has been the contention of some philosophers that one need not make the move from the necessary being to God at all. The identity of this being can be determined without having to invoke the existence of a being (such as a personal deity) which exists transcendent to sense experience. Rather, the necessary being is the universe itself. Wallace Matson writes: The world itself might be the necessary being after all: infinite in power and maximal in goodness, but neither containing nor presupposing any personal intelligence. . . . The world might be conceived of as having (nontemporally) actualized itself — more simply, as having just always been here, so to speak, automatically. It is hard to see why the argument should not lead to this conclusion just as well as to the orthodox one. 4

The same point was made several centuries ago by David Hume: "Why may not the material universe be the necessarily existing being, according to this pretended explication of necessity?"5 Those who argue in this fashion are making two points. First, they are claiming that as the cosmological argument stands it cannot validly conclude that this necessary being is God. In order to make such a move legitimately, the argument must be further supplemented. Matson, for example, goes on to suggest that the cosmological argument should be supplemented by the argument from design. With this general contention I agree; in light of the premises of the argument, to

The Necessary Being And God

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move from the necessary being to a personal deity requires additional argumentation. We shall say more on this later. Secondly, and more importantly, they are contending that one need not conclude that the necessary being in S6 is divine at all. Indeed, it is quite conceivable (or even evident) that this necessary being can be identified with the world or material universe. We need not conclude to a personal divinity, introduced from a religious sphere external to the argument; the world itself could be the necessary being, as that which "nontemporally actualized itself." But is the world or material universe a proper candidate for the position of necessary being? I think not. The totaHty or world or universe is nothing over and above the sum total of its constituents. But all its constituents are contingent beings; what exists in the universe could conceivably not exist. Now if the components, as contingent, could conceivably not exist, then the totality or world which they compose could likewise conceivably not exist, for if all the constituents ceased to exist at the same time (which is possible), the totaHty of which they constitute the parts would likewise cease to exist. And if the whole which now exists can conceivably not be, it is contingent. Thus, contrary to what Matson claims, the world cannot be the necessary being for which we argue, for if it were, it would possess contradictory properties: it would be necessary because it is the necessary being to which the cosmological proof argues, and it would be contingent because it is the totality of contingent beings. Matson responds to this by noting that it is meaningless to apply the notion of "cause" to the totality of contingent beings. That which is contingent is caused; but causation can only meaningfully take place within the context of a totaHty. "The universe is the framework within which causal explanations operate. . . . It is quite beyond their scope to link the universe to anything [beyond itself]. To ask for the cause of the universe is to ask a question similar to 'When is time?' or 'Where is space?'" 6 Consequently, to inquire about the cause of this totaHty is to move outside the framework within which the question of causation can be meaningfully asked. As such, the

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contention that the totality is contingent and caused is meaningless. Since we have attempted to answer this objection in detail in Chapter 5, a summation of our contention there will suffice at this point. Though it be granted that causation can take place only within a totaHty, there is no reason to restrict the notion of "totality" simply to the totality of contingent beings. There are many kinds of totalities, some of which are relevant to the problem before us. There can be, for example, a totality of all existent beings or a totality of all things which are causes. That is, the notion of "totaHty" can be satisfied in the inclusion of all contingent and necessary beings in the whole, and it is within this resulting totality of existents that we can meaningfully inquire concerning the contingency or causation of the totaHty of contingent beings. Thus, far from being meanr ingless, the question of the contingency or causation of the totaHty of contingent beings can be asked within a meaningful framework. Just as we can ask for the cause of the totaHty of tulips within the totaHty of the world, we can ask for the cause of the totaHty of contingent beings within the totality of existents or totaHty of causes. Thus, it seems that we cannot identify the world or material universe with the necessary being, for the world itself is contingent and requires an explanation or cause for its existence. IDENTIFICATION IS EXTRINSIC TO THE ARGUMENT What about the move from the necessary being to God? Is not such a move Hkewise unjustified from the premises in the argument? And does not such a move cast doubt upon the vaHdity of the whole argument? To answer this, we must determine whether the move from a necessary being to God is essential at all to the validity of the cosmological argument. Is such a move essential, such that the questioning of such an identification throws in doubt the validity of the entire argument? That such a move was part of the traditional formulation by St. Thomas Aquinas has already been pointed out above. But though he did identify this being as God, he recognized that the argument to prove the existence of a necessary being


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must be kept distinct from the analysis of its essence. He writes, "When the existence of a thing has been ascertained, there remains the further question of the manner of its existence, in order that we may know its essence."7 The distinct purpose of his cosmological arguments in Question Two was to show that this being exists. The determination of who this necessary being is and what it is like was the concern of the questions which followed after St. Thomas' arguments to show that this being exists. Thus, though he did perhaps commit himself too early in his Five Ways to an identification of this heing with God, St. Thomas himself seemed to recognize a distinction between the argument which endeavors to prove the existence of some being, and the arguments which seek to determine who this being is through a determination of the essence or further properties of this being. Likewise, nowhere in the argument we developed in Chapter 1 did we make such an identification nor did we need to do so. The argument is perfectly valid and quite complete without it. Just as it is one thing to prove something's existence and quite another to determine its properties (as we noted in Chapter 7), so it is one thing to prove a necessary being exists and another to identify this being with the being called God, or to further research what other names, derived from other spheres of experience like the religious sphere, are appropriate to it. Such research commences subsequent to the argument for existence. Thus, since the cosmological argument, as I see it, does not need to further determine who this being is which we have proven to exist, further identification (beyond the fact that it is a necessary being) is extrinsic to the validity of the argument. Consequently, though the traditional move from the necessary being to God is without justification from the argument itself, such should not be construed as a criticism of the argument per se, for identification is not really part of it. SOME PROGRAMMATIC SUGGESTIONS

Granted that the identification of this being is extrinsic to the cosmological argument per se, still the question remains, Is this necessary being God? Can this being be identified with a

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personal deity? What is this being like which we have shown to necessarily exist? Who is this necessary being? Though such a question, as we have shown, is not an intrinsic part of the cosmological argument, some programmatic suggestions toward the identification of such a being might still be in order. Three steps are necessary in order to discover whether the necessary being is to be identified with God. First of all, the characteristics of this necessary being must be determined. From what we have already said in other chapters about this being, some of these characteristics can be noted. The being which exists is a necessary being, a being which is such that if it exists, it cannot not exist. That is, it can neither be brought into existence nor pass out of existence. It is eternal. Moreover, as a non-contingent being it partakes of those essential qualities which are the opposite of those of a contingent being. That is, it is uncaused and independent of all else (a se). And since it is not dependent on anything else, it cannot be limited by another being. Hence, it must be a non-finite being. Finally, from the cosmological argument itself we can see that it must be the sufficient reason not only for the existence of all contingent beings, but also for its own existence. As such, it must be self-sufficient and self-sustaining. Accordingly, by means of reason alone, we can discover some of the characteristics of this necessary being: it is independent of all beings, not finite, self-sufficient, self-sustaining, the uncaused cause of all contingent beings, and eternal. Perhaps other characteristics can be determined in this manner. The second step of the programme will involve the determination of what God is hke. As with the necessary being, it must be determined what properties and characteristics can be meaningfully predicated of God. Some attributes have been accorded prominence in traditional theology. According to the Nicene Creed, God is one God, the "Maker of heaven and earth." He is both the creator and sustainer of the universe; by the Word of God all things came to be and continue to exist, for in Him we "live and move and have our being." This act of creation was a free act on His part; there was no necessity that He create the world. Thus, the world is dependent on Him,


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but He is independent of it. He is self-sufficient, needing no other being in order to act, and self-sustaining, needing no other being in order to exist. Likewise He is non-finite in His being, for He cannot be limited by any other being. Another important attribute is His eternality. God was before the foundation of the worlds; He is the great "I am," the eternally present now. God never came into existence, nor will He ever pass out of existence. Finally, He is personal and good; He is the personal Deity which is the very source and standard for goodness in the world. Thus, God may be partially characterized as independent of all things, self-sufficient and self-sustaining, non-finite, the uncaused cause and sustainer of the universe, personal and good. These attributes are by no means exhaustive, but they do embody some of the more important concepts predicated of God. Further analysis of the attributes of God will constitute the task of the second stage. The third and final phase involves the method of correlation. If the characteristics of the necessary being correlate with those of the Deity, and if none of the Deity's characteristics conflict with those of the necessary being, then the probability that they are one and same being has been established. From the above it is obvious that many of the characteristics do indeed correlate. Further analysis is necessary to discover other correlations, and to see whether there are any conflicts. This analysis or correlation constitutes the third phase of the programme. That the identification between the necessary being and God is possible can be seen from the correlation of the attributes of these two beings. Indeed, that there is such an identification has been the conclusion of most philosophers who have engaged in philosophical theology. Witness the general heading under which the arguments fall: proofs for the existence of God. However, we must remind ourselves that such a programme, such an identification, extends beyond the boundaries of the cosmological argument proper. This method of correlation is a programme which commences after we have shown that a necessary being necessarily exists if we are to adequately account for the existence of a contingent being.

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ARGUMENT AND BELIEF One final question remains: What is the relationship of the cosmological argument to religious belief? Must one who sees the logic of the argument become a committed theist? The answer I believe is twofold. First, if the cosmological argument, as presented above, is a true and valid argument, and if the above programmatic suggestions can be successfully carried out such that the necessary being can be identified with God, then certainly an important religious dogma has been rationally established. That is, it has then been shown that there are good reasons for believing in the existence of a divine being, that such a belief is most rational and reasonable. Tc^ believe in God is not to commit intellectual suicide. Secondly, however, it is quite possible that someone could see the validity of the argument and see the validity of identification of this being with God, and yet not believe in or commit himself to this Deity. It is not to be expected that an argument to prove the existence of a being should at the same time produce in the hearer a desire to trust himself to this being. This is, of course, a statement about the relationship between reason and faith, between argument and commitment. For most individuals it is one thing to rationally acknowledge the truth of an argument or the truth of a statement, but it is quite another to incorporate this rational conclusion as an integral part of their life style. This is not to say that such would not be the ideal; most certainly it would. From an ideal standpoint, the establishment of the rational probability or improbability of something should result in an act of commitment or rejection on the part of those who agree with the rational conclusion. Likewise, beliefs should be based upon reason and fact, such that beliefs could be evaluated as rational or irrational. It is to say, however, something about the psychology of belief, i.e. that individuals by and large are not converted by rational argument, but out of deep, existential realization of their plight. To Kierkegaard and his twentieth century followers, this must appear most paradoxical. On one hand, I am affirming the Kierkegaardian position that faith is not an act of reason but an act of commitment and that despair—the wanting to die


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and inability to do so—leads or can lead to this faith. The leap of faith, the act of personal commitment, the ultimate risk, follows upon the recognition of the state of despair. To speak of plights—dread, anxiety, despair, melancholy—and the resulting movement from this into the religious stage is welcome to their ears. But to likewise affirm that this faith ideally should be reasonable is the clashing of Hegelian cymbals, the treading again of the muddy, wellworn path to "the system." They assert that the truth on the human level is to be found in the inwardness and passion with which a doctrine is held. As passionate believing and passionate grasping, the inwardness of the ultimate choice and decision thrives not on rational synthesis, but on absolute paradox; the greater the paradox, the greater the inwardness called for. Faith is not believing the rational; it is appropriating the irrational, the contradictory. Faith as rational is impossible. Beyond the suggestion that "rational faith" might provide a more ultimate paradox for the Kierkegaardian to grasp hold of, I want to affirm that faith and reason are not such strange bedfellows as one might be led to believe. Indeed, they are related as cultivator and harvester. Reason plows the furrows, cutting the ground, separating what is to be separated, planting seeds of ideas, putting back together what belongs as such. It prepares the bed by breaking the clods of rational doubt. But its work is in vain if the grain does not grow and is not reaped, if it is not cut and bound and used. Without fruit, without action, it is simply a mental charade; it is to plant the field without concern for harvest. Reason should prepare the way for faith; faith as commitment should either grow out of reason or be based upon rational conclusions such that faith can be conceived to be either rational or irrational. Kierkegaard was correct when he saw that faith was a matter of the heart, an act of commitment and inwardness rather than an act of reason (of the rational faculty). But he failed to see that faith, insofar as it is or is not based upon reason, can be either a rational act or an irrational act. Commitment to the improbable, absurd, or irrational is faith, it is true, but irrational faith. It is as if the explorer would cast aside the compass and

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chart with the assertion, "It is the movement, not the direction, that counts." Faith becomes a meaningful act when good reasons can be given for the action, when exploration is guided by compass. Kierkegaard was, of course, describing human existence, seeing man as he acted and made decisions. Here Kierkegaard is on solid ground. It must be granted that most humans make decisions of commitment on grounds other than rational. The politician sways the crowd not by reason, but by emotion. The "sawdust trail" evangelist stirs his audience by passion or fear, not by rational debate. The communications media rarely give arguments in their advertisements or commercials; music, humor, and beautiful, sexy women convey the message. But again, to say that this is the way we normally do make decisions is not to say that this is the way decisions ought to be made. Nor is it to say that, ultimately, good reasons should not be given for the decision or action. Reason might not psychologically precipitate the action, but it should provide a basis for an analysis of that commitment. But is not this admission concerning the common human decision-making process fatal to our argument? If Kierkegard was correct in his analysis of the usual decision-making process, is then our argument without value, despite all our talk about "the ideal way" to make decisions? I think not. Granted that it is highly unlikely that the above argument will convert the atheist to theism or convince the agnostic to adopt religious belief in God; yet perhaps it will answer or cast light on some of the pressing questions of reason which surround the debate about the reasonableness of a belief in God. With questions of reason aside, the ground has been prepared for the planting of reasoned belief. NOTES 1. Frederick Copleston, A History of Philosophy (Garden City, N. Y., Doubleday, 1962), Vol. 2, Ft. II, pp. 61-62. 2. H. J. Paton, The Modern Predicament (New York, Collier Books, 1962), pp. 194, 203. 3. William P. Alston, Religious Belief and Philosophical Thought (New York, Harcourt, Brace and World, 1963), p. 20.


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4. Wallace I. Matson, The Existence of God (Ithaca, N. Y., Cornell University Press, 1965), pp. 75-76. 5. Charles W. Hendel, Jr. (Ed.), Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion, Hume Selections (New York, Charles Scribner's Sons, 1955), p. 355. 6. Matson, op. cit., p. 83. 7. Thomas Aqyinas, Summa Theologica, Vol. I, Q. 2, Art. 3.

•

INDEX D

A

Distinguishable, 56-60 Duns Scotus, 21-22, 95-97

Accident, 9, 61-63 Accidently related, 21-22, 88 Alston, William, 23-24, 47, 137 Analytic proposition, 73-83, 86 A priori analysis, 8, 126-128, 132 concepts, 85, 87 propositions, 74-79 Aquinas, S t Thomas, 3-5, 20-21, 9597, 136-137, 140-141 Aristotle, 3, 11, 21, 40, 66 Ayer, A. J., 73-81, 92

E Edwards, Paul, 107 Ens realissimum, 8, 124, 126, 128130, 133-134 Epistemological conditions, 59-60 Essentialism, 88 Eternal, 110, 118, 134, 142-143 Existentialism, 70

F B

Faith (and reason), 144-146 Fallacy of composition, 99-103 Findlay, J. N., 108, 113, 117 Flew, Antony, vii

Braithwaite, Richard B., 34-38 Brown, Patterson, 16

c

G Gilkey, Langdon, 52 God, 52, 87, 107-108, 116-117, 123, 137-146

Camus, Albert, 52, 70-71 Categories (Kantian), 85-86 Causal efficacy, 26-27, 40-46 impression, 46-47 laws, see Covering law principle, 8-9, 51-71, 73-74, 79, 85-87, 91 Cause, 5, 8-67, 73, 94-106, 110, 120, 139-140, 142-143 Constant conjunction, 25, 27-28, 3238, 4 1 , 47 Contingent, 5-7, 20, 63, 99, 102-107, 117 beings, 5-13, 16-20, 23-24, 51-56, 61-63, 67-68, 73, 94-99, 102110, 116-117, 139-140 Conventionalism, 76-77 Copleston, Frederick, 65, 94-97, 104, 137 Covering law, 33-39, 47-48

H Hanson, Norwood Russell, 79 Hume, David, 3, 25-46, 5 1 , 53, 56-60, 138

I Impression, 25, 27, 42, 45-47, 57-60 Inductive generalization, 34-35, 38, 50 Infinite series, 10-11, 16-18, 20-21, 95-98

K Kant, Immanuel, 3, 71, 78, 85-87, 124-135 Kierkegaard, S0ren, 144-146 Kinetic energy, 40

149

150

The

Cosmological

Argument sufficient reason, see Sufficient reason, principle of Production (causation a s ) , 26, 39-48

L Lewis, C. I., 76 Locke, John, 40 Lucretius, 89

Q M

Quine, W. V., 88

Maclntyre, Alasdair, vii Malcolm, Norman, vii, 83-84 Martin, C. B., 107 Matson, Wallace, 138-139 Mention (and use), 81-84, 91 Method of correlation, 143 Michotte, Albert, 44-46

R Reason (and faith), 144-146 Reasons (and causes), 53-55 Russell, Bertrand, 34, 65, 94-99, 103106

S

N Necessary being, 18-20, 51, 95, 98, 105, 107112, 116-135, 137-144 conditions, 15, 17, 23, 25, 28-32, 39, 4 1 , 47-49, 51, 53-55, 68, 74, 87 connection, 26-27 propositions, 73-91, 107-122, 129130, 133, 135 truth, 56, 65, 100-103 Necessity conditional, 114-117, 121, 130 logical, 6 1 , 73-74, 87-88, 9 1 , 107109, 112-121, 129-130 real, 6 1 , 81, 87-91, 120-122 Nicene Creed, 142

o Ontological argument, vii, 8, 112, 119, 123-135 conditions, 59-60 Owens, Joseph, 62

P

- '-

'

Pap, Arthur, 83 Paton, H. J., 123-124, 137 Penelhum, Terrence, 112, 118 Perception, 42-46, 94, 98 Plantinga, Alvin, 119-120 Principle of causation, see Causal principle

Separable, 56-60 Simultaneity, 11-15, 28-32, 35 Smart, J. J. C , 73, 107-109, 112, 114, 117 Sufficient conditions, 15, 17, 23-25, 32-33, 35-36, 39, 4 1 , 47-48, 51-55, 68, 74-75, 87 reason, 10-11, 13, 16-20, 52-55, 68, 94-98, 105, 134, 142 principle of, 52-56, 67-71 Synthetic apriori, 77-79, 85-86 propositions, 73, 75, 77-79

T Tautology, 75-76, 79-80, 113, 119 Taylor, Richard, 30-31, 41, 69 Temporal priority, 11-12, 25, 27-32, 35, 41 Toulmin, Stephen, 34 Transitive series, 13-16, 31-32

u Universe, 138-140

V Veatch, Henry, 82

w Wisdom, John, 81

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