Book Review: God, Freedom, and Evil

God, Freedom, and Evil by Alvin Plantinga (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1977. 121 pp)

A well-known American philosopher, Alvin Plantinga is the emeritus John A. O’Brien Professor of Philosophy at the University of Notre Dame. Born in 1932, Plantinga earned his B.A. from Calvin College and his Ph.D. from Yale University. Known for defending orthodox Christian beliefs by analytical philosophy, Plantinga has published numerous books including God and Other Minds, The Nature of Necessity, and Warranted Christian Belief. During his distinguished career, Plantinga received multiple honorary degrees and fellowships. In 1980, magazine named Plantinga "America’s leading orthodox Protestant philosopher of God."

The Problem of Evil

Suppose that God, as most Christians believe, is wholly good, all-knowing, all-powerful, and ever-present. Given this definition, God ought to hate evil and possess the power to eradicate it from the universe. We know, however, that evil does exist. Logically, therefore, we must conclude that God does not exist.

This proof, known as the problem of evil, is logically valid, meaning that its premises lead to its conclusion. In order to prove the existence of God, then, one must prove the falseness surrounding any of the argument’s premises. Without such proof, the conclusion, “God does not exist,” stands.

Alvin Plantinga’s God, Freedom, and Evil begins by deconstructing this well-known proof; it ends with a reconstruction of a natural theological proof for the existence of God.

Deconstructing the Problem of Evil

Plantinga commences by immediately evaluating the problem of evil. He begins by simply questioning the soundness of the atheist’s set of premises. Before I continue, it is important to pause for a second to explain the use of “sound” and “valid”. When a philosopher proclaims a logical proof to be valid, one merely professes that the conclusion proceeds from the set of premises. Soundness, on the other hand, occurs when an argument is both valid and true.

To illustrate, this argument is valid: All humans are 8 feet tall; Andrew is a human; therefore, Andrew is 8 feet tall. While the conclusion logically follows the premises, the argument is not sound because the premise, “All humans are 8 feet tall” is not true.

Returning to God, Freedom, and Evil, Plantinga ponders the premise, “God hates evil” in problem of evil proof. He asks if God has a perfectly reasonable explanation for allowing evil. If there were such an explanation, God would retain his attributes, and, thus remain omnipotent, omniscient, and omni-present – and evil could continue to exist.

To this end, Plantinga proposes freedom. To summarize,

“A world containing creatures who are significantly free (and freely perform more good than evil actions) is more valuable, all else being equal, than a world containing no free creatures at all. Now God can create free creatures, but He can’t cause or determine them to do only what is right. For if He does so, then they aren’t significantly free after all; they do not do what is right freely. To create creatures capable of moral good, therefore, He must create creatures capable of moral evil; and He can’t give these creatures the freedom to perform evil and at the same time prevent them from doing so” (30).

If God grants free will to creatures, it logically follows that each creature possesses the opportunity to choose good or evil. With this choice, then, evil becomes allowable.

Of course, I admit that my synopsis is simplified. With dense writing, Plantinga methodically waltzes from argument to argument offering objections, rebuttals, and new proposals. In short, he argues that the existence of free will as an added premise to the problem of evil creates an invalid argument.

A Theological Argument

In the second section of God, Freedom, and Evil, Plantinga explores the validity of theological arguments for the existence of God. First, he explores medieval theologian Thomas Aquinas’ cosmological argument finding it invalid rather quickly. Second, and just as quickly, Plantinga rejects philosopher William Paley’s teleological argument.

St. Anselm

Finally, Plantinga appraises St.  Anselm of Canterbury’s ontological argument. While exceedingly complex, Anselm’s argument surrounds the idea of definition and existence. In much too simple terms, Anselm proves God’s existence through arguing that there is no being upon which a greater could be conceived. If you are interested in a deeper look, I suggest googling “the ontological argument”.

Much like the problem of evil, Plantinga explores the various objections and counterarguments to the ontological argument. Ultimately, Plantinga is unable to conclusively prove God’s existence, but he can prove enough to say that theism is a valid intellectual position.

“What I claim for this argument, therefore, is that it establishes, not the truth of theism, but its rational acceptability. And hence it accomplishes at least one of the aims of the tradition of natural theology” (112).

Is God All Omni?

Although I believe Plantinga successfully reasons his positions in God, Freedom, and Evil, I do not think he will convince anyone to switch sides. For an atheist, Plantinga offers interesting critiques but no conclusive proof. Likewise, Plantinga supplies the theist with solid lines of reasoning in the universal debate around God’s existence.

I’m not even sure Plantinga’s arguments support a proof for the God found in Scripture, however. Some theologians, in fact, would critique Plantinga's arguments by pointing to the Bible. They would argue that a careful reading of Scripture suggests that God, while certainly knowing, powerful, and present, isn’t always omniscient, omnipotent, and omni-present. In many scenarios, God expresses regret or reverses course(take Hezekiah as an example when God decides to add years to the king’s life).

In fact, these “omni” principles share more similarities with ancient Greek philosophy than with Christian scripture.

Certainly, Plantinga argues his position well. But, I’m not convinced that he is arguing for the Christian God. In reality, his argument is for some super intelligent and powerful creative being. And certainly at the core of Plantinga’s thought, his arguments are meant to support the rationality of belief – a pursuit far different from proving that the God of Scripture exists.

Nevertheless, God, Freedom, and Evil is an important work in philosophy and theology. If you are interested in the debate around God’s existence, you must read God, Freedom, and Evil.

Verdict: 3.5 out of 5

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Posted by: Donovan Richards

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Book Review: Wise Blood

Wise Blood: A Novel by Flannery O’Connor (New York:  Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1962. 248 pp)

Born in Savannah, Georgia, Flannery O’Connor attended Georgia State College for Women (now Georgia College & State University) graduating in 1945 with a degree in Social Sciences. A year later, she enrolled in the Iowa Writers’ Workshop where she studied journalism. While at the Workshop, O’Connor first drafted her seminal novel, Wise Blood. Later, she published the novel, The Violent Bear It Away, and two books of short stories: A Good Man Is Hard to Find and Everything That Rises Must Converge. Her writing is informed, often paradoxically, by her devout Catholicism and the grotesque. She died in 1963, at the age of 39, of complications from lupus. Posthumously, the University of Georgia Press honored O’Connor with an award in her name: the Flannery O’Connor Award for Short Fiction.

An Association Instead of a Lifestyle

Christianity in its American context has promoted a rather individualistic system. In opposition to Catholic and Orthodox traditions that value the Church community and centuries of tradition, the church in the United States often elevates the preacher to a centralized role. Christianity, then, becomes an association instead of a lifestyle.

In Flannery O’Connor’s Wise Blood, her characters react to this cult of personality. The book’s central character, Hazel Motes, is a family-less World War II veteran living on a government pension. He travels to Taulkinham, Tennessee to begin life anew.

The Church of Christ without Christ

As the grandson of a preacher, Motes translates his war experiences into an atheism that vehemently denies Jesus, sin, and redemption.

While in Taulkinham, Hazel meets a blind preacher, Asa Hawks, and his daughter Sabbath Lily. Since the preacher discerns that Hazel needs religion, Motes decides to respond by forming a new ministry named the Church of Christ without Christ.

He preaches,

“’Church of Christ!” Haze repeated. ‘Well, I preach the Church Without Christ. I’m member and preacher to that church where the blind don’t see and the lame don’t walk and what’s dead stays that way. Ask me about that church and I’ll tell you it’s the church that the blood of Jesus don’t foul with redemption’” (101).

A Disciple that Nobody Loves

Hazel’s first disciple is a teenage zookeeper named Enoch Emery who has “wise blood” – an instinctive ability to discern when to act. A tragic character, Enoch moved to the city after his father kicked him out of the house. The town considers Enoch an annoyance at best and a person worth ignoring at worst.

At one point when Enoch has the opportunity to meet a character from a movie, O’Connor writes,

“There were only two children in front of him now. The first one shook hands and stepped aside. Enoch’s heart was beating violently. The child in front of him finished and stepped aside and left him facing the ape, who took his hand with an automatic motion.
It was the first hand that had been extended to Enoch since he had come to the city. It was warm and soft.
For a second he only stood there, clasping it. Then he began to stammer. ‘My name is Enoch Emery,’  he mumbled. ‘I attended the Rodemill Boys’ Bible Academy. I work at the city zoo. I seen two of your pictures. I’m only eighteen year old but I already work for the city. My daddy made me com…’ and his voice cracked.
The star leaned slightly forward and a change came in his eyes: an ugly pair of human ones moved closer and squinted at Enoch from behind the celluloid pair. ‘You go to hell,’ a surly voice inside the ape-suit said, low but distinctly, and the hand jerked away” (181-182).

The Sacred and the Macabre

Wise Blood is brutally macabre. O’Connor’s themes are dark and disturbing. And yet, she uses her characters as theological arguments. Even though Hazel proclaims himself an atheist, he has a nagging sense of piety. Always in love with utilizing animals as a metaphor, O’Connor writes,

“’It’s empty!’ he shouted. ‘What you have to look in that ole empty cage for? You come on!’ He stood there, sweating and purple. ‘It’s empty!’ he shouted. And then he saw it wasn’t empty. Over in one corner on the floor of the cage, there was an eye. The eye was in the middle of something that looked like a piece of mop sitting on an old rag. He squinted close to the wire and saw that the piece of mop was an owl with one eye open. It was looking directly at Hazel Motes. ‘That ain’t nothing but a ole hoot owl,’ he moaned. ‘You seen them things before.’
‘I AM clean,’ Haze said to the eye” (91).

In what is originally perceived as an empty cage, Motes finds it necessary to justify his existence to an owl. While slightly absurd, the passage expands on the very thing that influences Hazel. Running away from his family and the church, Motes returns to religion through preaching and an insistence of piety despite his unbelief. Negatively influenced by the cult of personality that defines the protestant preacher, Hazel becomes the cult of personality protestant preacher.

The Altar Call

Although I appreciate the book, Wise Blood feels scattered. Digging into O’Connor’s background, it makes sense that Wise Blood is a compilation of multiple short stories. With the length of a novella, her characters have little depth. Yet, she uses them to build her theological cases. As a devout Catholic living in the South, she certainly draws from firsthand experience. Since it’s a quick read, I recommend Wise Blood to anyone interested in a provocative theological novel.

Verdict: 3.5 out of 5

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Book Review: The Blasphemer

The Blasphemer: A Novel by Nigel Farndale (New York: Crown Publishers, 2010. 384 pp)

Best known for his interviews in the Sunday Telegraph, Nigel Farndale is a British author and journalist. Farndale went to Barnard Castle School before receiving a master’s degree in philosophy from Durham University. On top of his work for the Sunday Telegraph, Farndale contributes articles to the Sunday Times, Country Life, and Spectator. Of his five published books, Haw-Haw: The Tragedy of William and Margaret Joyce was shortlisted for both the 2005 Whitbread Prize and James Tait Black Memorial Prize. Additionally, The Blasphemer was shortlisted for the 2010 Costa Novel Award. Farndale lives between Hampshire and Sussex with his wife and three sons.

The Lifeboat

The lifeboat example, a classical Philosophy 101 illustration, depicts a scenario in which you reside safely in a lifeboat surrounded by a sea of drowning passengers. While the hope of you – the lone lifeboat resident ­– is to save as many as possible, only one more person can safely board. Amongst the drowning treads your spouse, a brilliant physicist, and a poor child. Who should you save?

Daniel Kennedy – a zoologist, Dawkinsian atheist, and protagonist of The Blasphemer – would first choose to save himself. As a downed seaplane off the Galapagos Islands fills with water, he swims past his struggling, common-law wife, Nancy, in order to reach the surface. Although Daniel fills his lungs with air in order to swim back down to the sinking wreckage in order to save Nancy, the psychological damage is done.

Later, while Daniel attempts to swim approximately 14 miles to the Galapagos Islands hoping to find help for his fellow survivors, he is compelled forward by a vision of a man, an apparition, or more logically a hallucination.

Fight, Flight, and Faith

Farndale’s book discusses weighty subjects. Following Daniel’s great-grandfather, Andrew Kennedy, through the First Great War and detailing Daniel’s detective-natured father, Philip, the Blasphemer narrates three familial generations through war, terrorism, and foundational belief.

In between the tensions of modern science and ancient religious tradition, Farndale crafts his characters:

“Perhaps you are right. Perhaps that is why God makes angels, immaterial beings whose identity resides in the world of thought. The unseen world. The abstract world. They are creatures that can’t be explained away by scientists.”

“Thought you sad men make angels.”

“No. I said that Darwin said that men make angels.”

“So you do believe in them?”

“They have been described as the most beautiful conceit in mortal wit, and I would go along with that” (177).

Although the tome begins slowly, the story compellingly unfolds into a page turner. Farndale’s characters provide depth in the storyline and the motifs from each era unite nicely.

Foundational Faith

Ultimately, the Blasphemer is a cinematic story surrounding belief. While some create a dichotomy between faith and reason, Farndale suggests that faith is a necessary aspect of reason. When placed in stressful and life-threatening situations, humans react in different ways. Some safe themselves, some save the most talented, and other are self-sacrificial. In all of these instances, actions exist on a foundation of faith. As one of the better books read last year, I recommend this book.