The Worst Thing About Poverty

Theodor HaeckerJournal in the Night (Pantheon, 1950, tr. Dru), p. 38, written in 1940:

155. The worst of poverty — today at any rate — the most galling and the most difficult thing to bear, is that it makes it almost impossible to be alone. Neither at work, nor at rest, neither abroad nor at home, neither waking nor sleeping, neither in health, nor — what a torture — in sickness.

Money cannot buy happiness but in many circumstances it can buy the absence of misery.  Due diligence in its acquisition and preservation is therefore well recommended.  The purpose of money is not to enable indulgence but to make  possible a life worth living.  Otium liberale in poverty is a hard row to hoe; a modicum of the lean green helps immeasurably.

Boethius wrote philosophy in prison, but you are no Boethius.

Things being as they are, a life worth living for many of us is more a matter of freedom from than freedom for.  Money buys freedom from all sorts of negatives.  Money allows one to avoid places destroyed by the criminal element and their liberal enablers, to take but one example. And chiming in with Haecker's main point, money buys freedom from oppressive others so that one can enjoy happy solitude, the sole beatitude.

O beata solitudo, sola beatitudo!

Paul Ludwig Landsberg on Two Types of Philosophy

The following quotation is from John M. Oesterreicher, The Walls are Crumbling: Seven Jewish Philosophers Discover Christ, London: Hollis and Carter, 1953, p. 195. Oesterreicher is glossing Landsberg's doctoral thesis Wesen und Bedeutung der Platonischen Akademie, 1923: 

. . . there are two types of philosophy: the autonomous, patterned after Plato's, which undertakes to bring about man's redemption; and the heteronomous, which, following St. Augustine's lead, does not feign to be man's guide to his last end, but takes him to the very portals of faith, and there wthdraws before the one thing necessary.

Ah, but what is the one thing necessary? 

There is a tension between the two types of philosophy and this tension is the transposition onto the philosophical plane of the  tension between Athens (Greek philosophy) and Jerusalem (the Bible), the two main roots of the West whose fruitful entanglement is the source of the West's vitality.   As Leo Strauss sees it, it is a struggle over the unum necessarium, the one thing needful or necessary:  

To put it very simply and therefore somewhat crudely, the one thing needful according to Greek philosophy is is the life of autonomous understanding.  The one thing needful as spoken by the Bible is the life of obedient love.  The harmonizations and synthesizations are possible because Greek philosophy can use obedient love in a subservient function, and the Bible can use philosophy as a handmaid; but what is so used in each case rebels against such use, and therefore the conflict is really a radical one. ("Progress or Return?" in The Rebirth of Classical Political Rationalism, University of Chicago Press, 1989, p. 246, bolding added.)

So is the Christian the true philosopher?  Only in the sense that philosophy points beyond itself to something that is no longer philosophy but that completes philosophy while cancelling it. I am tempted to reach for an Hegelian trope while turning it on its head:  if Christianity is true, then philosophy is aufgehoben, sublated, in it.  If Christianity is true, then the Christian arrives at the truth that the philosopher at best aims at but cannot arrive at by his method and way of life, the life of autonomous understanding.  To achieve what he aims at, the philosopher would have to become "as a little child" and accept in obedient love the gift of Revelation.  But it is precisely that which he cannot do if he is to remain a philosopher in the strict sense, one who lives the life of autonomous understanding.

This is tension some of us live. The life of autonomous understanding and critical examination? Or the life of child-like trust and obedient love?

The problem in what is perhaps its sharpest form is presented in the story of Abraham and Isaac.  

The Christian life is not the philosophical life.  It lies beyond the philosophical life and, if  true, is superior to it.

But is it true?

In the end, you have to decide what you will believe and how you will live. 

Some extensive quotation from the neglected Landsberg in Kant on Suicide.

Knowing Less

Knowing less of a person is often better for good relations than knowing more. The old forms and formalities have their uses. They come from a time when human nature was better understood, and it was understood that civility is better served by reserve than by 'letting it all hang out.' They come from a time when it was taken for granted that there is such a thing as human nature.

From the Mailbag: The Ontological Argument

P. M. writes,

Thank you for your work on the Ontological Argument for the Existence of God.  I would really appreciate if you could answer some of my questions that are bulleted below:
 
You discuss the following Ontological Argument in your paper: "Has the ontological argument been refuted?." Religious studies 29.1 (1993): 97-110. 
  1. If the concept of an x is internally coherent, then an x exists in some possible world.
  2. The concept of the GCB is internally coherent.
  3. Therefore, the GCB exists in some possible world. (1, 2)
  4. Either the GCB is impossible (exists in no world) or the GCB is necessary (exists in all worlds).
  5. Therefore, the GCB is necessary. (3, 4)
  6. Therefore, the GCB actually exists. (5) 
(Where GCB is of course the "Greatest Conceivable Being").
  • Is the above ontological argument a good one? If not, what are its flaws?
  • In your opinion what is the strongest version or case for the Ontological Argument today?

Is the above argument good? Well, it's valid.  All that means is that the conclusion follows from the premises: necessarily, if the premises are all true, then the conclusion is true. A further condition on argumentative goodness is soundness: an argument is sound just in case it is valid and all of its premises are true.  But if an argument is sound, it doesn't follow that it is probative, i.e., that it proves its conclusion.

For an argument to be probative, it must not only be sound, but must also satisfy a relevance constraint: the conclusion must be relevant to the premise(s). The following argument is valid in the sense that it is impossible for the premise to be true and the conclusion false, and its premise is true. Yet it surely does not amount to a proof of its conclusion:

Trump is president
ergo
7 + 5 = 12.

The following argument is valid, sound, and satisfies the relevance requirement, but is not proof of anything:

7 + 5 = 12
ergo
7 + 5 = 12.

This is because the argument is circular. Every circular argument is valid and satisfies relevance, and some circular arguments are sound; but none are probative.  So we add freedom from informal fallacy to our list of conditions on probativeness.

But this is still not enough to have a probative argument.  We add: the premises must not only be true; they must be known to be true.

So I deny that the modal ontological argument above is probative. It does not constitute a proof of the existence of a GCB because we do not know whether (1), the possibility premise, is true.  I explain why in Is the Modal Ontological Argument Compelling?

Of course, one could argue for the possibility premise. I've done it myself. Just last month the following paper of mine appeared:

Vallicella, William F. (2018). "Does God Exist Because He Ought To Exist?" In Mirosław Szatkowski (ed.), Ontology of Theistic Beliefs. De Gruyter. pp. 205-212.

In this paper I essay a deontically supercharged modal ontological argument.  Very briefly, I argue that since a greatest conceivable, or maximally perfect, being ought to exist, and since whatever ought to exist is possible, a greatest conceivable, or maximally perfect, being is possible.  I conclude, however, that not even a deontically supercharged modal OA gets the length of a proof.

In fact, I hold that none of the so-called theistic 'proofs' are proofs strictly speaking. The existence of God cannot be proven or disproven. (Thus no argument from evil disproves the existence of God.) One cannot rationally compel belief in God, though I think one can render theistic belief rationally acceptable. My friend Ed Feser disagrees strenuously.

I refer you to his Five Proofs of the Existence of God (Ignatius Press, 2017) which is available via Amazon for less than fifteen semolians.   Ironically, the onto-cosmological argument I deploy in A Paradigm Theory of Existence (Kluwer 2002) a book that  is also available via Amazon for a paltry 170 semolians, ends up as one of Ed's proofs in Chapter Two, "The Neo-Platonic Proof." Ed's discussion of my argument, which I do not consider a proof, commences on p. 75.  He doesn't present my argument in its full subtlety and richness, but then his book is more of a high-level survey than a technical treatise. I thank Ed for the citation. A version of my onto-cosmological argument is presented here:

Vallicella, William F. (2000). From facts to God: An onto-cosmological argument. International Journal for Philosophy of Religion 48 (3):157-181.

Finally, I should say that I am not fully versed in all forms of the Ontological Argument. So I won't offer an opinion on the reader's second question. For further instruction I recommend the work of Graham Oppy and Alexander Pruss.

A Funeral for a World that Never Was

Solid insight from David Goldman a.k.a "Spengler":

The bright line in American policy divides the utopians who believe that America’s mission is to bring free markets and liberal democracies to the benighted, backward nations of the world, and realists like Trump.

Senator McCain threw his support to the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt in the expectation that it would become a vehicle for Muslim democracy; Donald Trump proposed to insulate America from the problems of the Muslim world.

McCain and Bush are Mainline Protestants, which is to say Wilsonian missionaries. Mitt Romney is the Mormon variety of the same thing.  The Never-Trump neoconservatives, like Bill Kristol, John Podhoretz and the late Charles Krauthammer, played Sancho Panza to Bush’s Don Quixote.

Trump rose to the top in the Republican primaries when he proposed to freeze immigration from some Muslim-majority countries, a stark declaration that America’s safety is what matters, not the fate of nations on the other side of the world.

More than anything else that Trump did, the travel ban horrified the Establishment, but it won the support of 60% of American voters. Trump declared in effect that the United States would rather insulate itself from problems in Muslim-majority nations than fix them. American interests would come first.

Trump inherited a host of problems from the failed Establishment consensus. The greatest of these was the rise of China, which invested in advanced weaponry while the United States spent nearly $6 trillion on its end-of-history illusion. 

[. . .]

Trump’s style has been obstreperous and sometimes rowdy, and he eschews the air of regal noblesse oblige that some of his predecessors brought to the Oval Office. But the hatred he elicits from the Establishment has nothing to do with style, or indeed, with any of his shortcomings: Trump is hated because the American people elected him to bury the Establishment. Last weekend the Establishment obliged by conducting burial services for itself.

That's right, especially the concluding paragraph.  But we ought to distinguish between the Establishment Left's and the Establishment Right's response to Trump, the true political maverick. As I said the other day:

The Left's blind rage against Trump is not primarily because of the man and his personal style, but because of his threat to their agenda. If Trump had Hillary's ideas and policies, and Hillary Trump's, the Left would have overlooked Trump's personal behavior and supported him in the same way that they overlooked the bad behavior of Ted Kennedy and Bill Clinton.  They would have dismissed the Access Hollywood tape as locker-room talk in the same way they dismissed Bill Clinton's much worse sexually predatory actions as peccadilloes belonging to his personal life.

The Never-Trumpers, on the other hand, hate Trump primarily because of the man he is, and not primarily because of his ideas and policies.  They hate him because he is a crude and obnoxious outsider, an interloper, who crashed their party and threatened to upset their cozy world.

Proof of this is that Trump's solid conservative accomplishments mollify the bow-tie brigade not one bit.  Their hatred and mindless opposition is in no way reduced by the Gorsuch confirmation, the Kavanaugh nomination, the movement of the U. S. embassy to Israel, the surging stock market, the low unemployment numbers, the defense of religious liberty, and so on down the list.

 

Robert Bork’s Originalism

Here you will gain some insight into the context of the Kavanaugh nomination fight. Excerpts:

In Bork’s view, the Constitution derives its moral authority, as law, from the fact that the states ratified it. Accordingly, its text should be interpreted as it was understood at the time of its adoption. Judges have no warrant to expand upon the constitutional text—or to invent new rights—just because they favor the result in a particular case. Judicial power, unless constrained by the Constitution’s original meaning, will become excessive, usurping power properly reserved to the elected branches, or the people. When judges exceed their proper role, by recognizing “liberties” not credibly drawn from the constitutional text or history, they diminish citizens’ most important freedom: the right to govern themselves in a representative democracy.

[. . .]

Fidelity to the law—judicial restraint—is controversial only if one believes that courts should be playing a policymaking role. If the Supreme Court is free to reach decisions based on nothing more than the individual justices’ predilections, the potential beneficiaries of Supreme Court lawmaking will be highly motivated to support or oppose nominees solely based on their political views, rather than their integrity, competence, or commitment to the rule of law. And it is far easier for liberal-interest groups to influence the composition of a nine-member court than it is to control the Congress, the presidency, and the democratically elected governments of the 50 states.

Divine Simplicity, Modal Collapse, and a Powers Theory of Modality

This is the third in a series on whether the doctrine of divine simplicity (DDS) entails modal collapse (MC). #1 is here and #2 here. Most of us hold that not everything possible is actual, and that not everything actual is necessary. I will assume that most of us are right. A doctrine entails modal collapse if it entails that, for every x, x is possible iff x is actual iff x is necessary.  

In God's Powers and Modality: A Response to Mullins on Modal Collapse (no bibliographical information provided, date, or author's name, but presumably by someone named 'Lenow') we read:

Our problem is not with the notion that God has created the world; it is with the fear that we will be forced by divine simplicity to say that God has created the world necessarily. 

[. . .]

I believe that the recent work of Barbara Vetter offers an account of potentiality and modal grounding capable not only of resisting modal collapse, but of doing so along the traditional Thomist lines Mullins rejects as incoherent. Vetter presents us with the theoretical resources needed to affirm divine simplicity without forcing a breakdown in our modal language, and thus allows us to avoid being cornered into asserting that God creates necessarily or that all creaturely events occur necessarily.

We shall see.

What Vetter calls the “standard conception” of a dispositionalist account of modality runs roughly as follows. Objects possess dispositional properties: a vase, for example, possesses the property of fragility; an electron possesses the property of repelling other particles with a negative charge; I have the ability to learn how to play the violin. (3)

I am well-disposed (pun intended) toward this sort of view. 

I am seated now, but I might not have been. I might have been standing now or in some other bodily posture. What makes this true? What is the ontological ground of the (real, non-epistemic) possibility of my not being seated now?  As useful as possible worlds talk is for rendering modal concepts and relations graphic, it is of no use for the answering of this question if we take an abstractist line on possible worlds as sanity requires that we do. On the other hand, David Lewis' concretist approach is, if I may be blunt, just crazy. 

The best answer invokes my presently unexercised ability to adopt a physical posture other than that of the seated posture, to stand up for example.  Ultimately, the ground of real modality is in the powers, abilities, capacities, dispositions, potencies, tendencies, and the like of the things the modal statements are about.

The typical wine glass is fragile: it is disposed to shatter if struck with moderate force. Fragility is a stock example of a dispositional property.  But fragility comes in degrees.  Think of a spectrum of breakability from the most easily breakable items all the way up to items that are breakable only with great difficulty such as rocks and metal bolts and steel beams. We do not apply 'fragile' to things like steel beams, but they too are breakable. 

Yet Vetter is most interested in the property that characterizes all the objects on
this spectrum: the possibility of being broken, the manifestation that she takes to
individuate this property. This modal property that extends from one end of this spectrum
to the other she calls a potentiality—in this case, the potentiality of a thing’s being
breakable.(4)

Now let's see if Vetter's power theory of modality solves our problem.  The problem can be put as follows without possible worlds jargon. There is a tension between divine simplicity and divine freedom.  

1) If God is simple, then he is pure act (actus purus) and thus devoid of unexercised powers and unrealized potentials. He is, from all eternity, all that he can be.  Given that God is simple, there can be no real distinction in him between potency and act. This is necessarily true  because God exists of metaphysical necessity and is essentially pure act.

2) As it is, God freely created our universe from nothing; but he might have created a  different universe, or no universe at all. Had he created no universe, then his power to create would have gone unexercised.  In that case he would not be pure act: he would harbor an unactualized potential.

The dyad is logically inconsistent. What I called a tension looks to be a contradiction. If (1) is true, then it is impossible that God have unexercised powers such as the never-exercised power to create.  But if (2) is true, it is possible that God have unexercised powers. So if God is both simple and (libertarianly) free, then we get a logical contradiction.

If we hold to (1), then we must reject (2). The upshot is modal collapse. For given that God willed our universe with a will that is automatically efficacious, both the willing and the willed are necessary. And so the existence of Socrates is necessary and the same goes for his being  married to Xanthippe and his being the teacher of Plato, etc.

To what work can we put Vetter’s theory in forestalling the threat of modal collapse? Consider God’s will, using Vetter’s language, as an intrinsic maximal first-order potentiality to will God’s own infinite goodness as the ultimate and perfect end of the divine nature. Let me take each descriptor in turn. First, this potentiality is intrinsic, because it does not depend upon any external circumstances for its manifestation and is not possessed jointly. Second, it is maximal, because God cannot fail to manifest this potentiality. As Vetter argued, something is maximally breakable if it is not possible for it not to break—it will break under any circumstances. Similarly, the willing of God’s goodness as end is a potentiality that can be possessed in degrees: rocks do not seem to possess it at all, demons possess it only to the extent that their wills remain a corrupted version of their original unvitiated creation, humans possess it to a greater extent in that the possibility of redemption remains open to them, angels possess it in the highest created degree as a gift from God; yet God “possesses” this potentiality in qualitatively different fashion, possessing it maximally because it is identical with God’s nature—God cannot fail to will God’s goodness. Third, this is a potentiality simpliciter—that is, a first order iterated potentiality, rather than as a potentiality to acquire some other potentiality; the doctrine of divine simplicity removes the possibility of any such composition. Finally, to avoid the threat of modal collapse, this must be a multi-track potentiality, multiply realizable (as are most potentialities); in effect, this means that God is capable of willing God’s goodness in multiple ways, but that no one instance of such willing is any more or any fuller a manifestation of this potentiality than any other such willing. Defenders of divine simplicity typically hold that God’s life is itself full and infinite goodness, lacking nothing.[ . . .] Consequently, had God willed to exist without creation, God would not have willed a lesser goodness than God has willed in creating the world; similarly, had God willed the creation of a different world, God would not have willed a lesser (or greater) goodness than God has willed in creating this one. Each of these acts of willing would have produced different effects, to be sure—but in each case, the potentiality manifested is the same, the potentiality to will God’s infinite goodness as ultimate end.

What is the argument here? It is none too clear.  But one key notion is that of a maximal potentiality. A maximal potentiality is one that cannot fail to be manifested.  An example of a non-maximal potentiality is that of a wine glass to break into discrete pieces when dropped onto a hard surface or struck. That disposition need never be manifested. (Imagine that the glass ceases to exist by being melted down, or maybe God simply annihilates it.) Or think of all the abilities that people have but never develop.

Breakability looks to be a candidate for the office of maximal potentiality. It cannot fail to be manifested. "As Vetter argued, something is maximally breakable if it is not possible for it not to break—it will break under any circumstances." This is a strange formulation. It is true that some things are such that they must eventually break down. But this is not to say that they will break under any circumstances. But let that pass.

Consider now God's power to will his own goodness. We may grant that this is a power that cannot fail to be exercised or manifested. Since it is not possible for God not to exercise this power, it is no threat at all to the divine simplicity. There is no real distinction between God and his willing his own goodness. God's willing his own goodness just is his power to will his own goodness.  This power is plainly compatible with God's being pure act.

But how does this avoid modal collapse?  

Finally, to avoid the threat of modal collapse, this must be a multi-track potentiality, multiply realizable (as are most potentialities); in effect, this means that God is capable of willing God’s goodness in multiple ways, but that no one instance of such willing is any more or any fuller a manifestation of this potentiality than any other such willing.

The second key idea, then, is that of the multiple realizability of liabilities and potentialities and such. I am not now actually sick, but I am liable to get sick, or I have the potential to get sick, in many different ways.  I can get sick from bad food, or polluted water, or a virus can attack me, etc.  My liability to get sick is multiply realizable. The same goes for active powers and abilities.  My power to express myself is realizable in different ways, in writing, in speech, in different languages, using sign language etc. 

God's power to will his own goodness is realizable by creating our universe, some other universe, or no universe at all. So it too is multiply realizable. Fine, but how does this solve the problem? 

Suppose I will to buy whisky. I go to the liquor story and say, "I want whisky!"  The proprietor says, "Very well, sir, would you like bourbon or scotch or rye or Irish?"  If I insist that I just want whisky, I will learn that whisky is not to be had. One cannot buy or drink whisky without buying or drinking either bourbon or scotch or rye or Irish or . . . .

It is the same with God. He cannot will his own goodness 'in general'; he must will it in some specific way, by willing to create this universe or that universe or no universe.

But then we are back to our problem. For whatever he does, whether he creates or not, is necessary and we have modal collapse.  The modal collapse that we all agree is in the simple God spreads to everything else.

As far as I can see, Lenow's response to Mullins fails.

UPDATE (9/4). Joe Lenow writes,

Hi Bill—I am Spartacus. Thanks for engaging the paper. 
 
This is a version of the argument from a conference presentation a couple of years ago; hadn't realized that the conference papers were public view. I've got a much more carefully worked-out version of the argument presently under review; please find it attached. I'd appreciate any thoughts you have on it!
 
Best wishes,
 
Resident Assistant Professor of Theology
Creighton University
I will have to study Professor Lenow's latest version. It cannot be reproduced or discussed here, of course, since it is under review.

The Montini-Maritain-Alinksy Connection

Strange bedfellows

In an interview with Playboy Magazine very shortly before his death from a heart attack in 1972 at the age of 63, which interview is part of a declassified FBI file, the man Maritain asked to pray for him declared that he would unhesitatingly choose hell over heaven:

PLAYBOY: Having accepted your own mortality, do ·you believe in any kind of afterlife?

ALINSKY: Sometimes it seems to me that the question people should ask is not “is there life after death?” but “Is there life after birth?” I don't know whether there’s anything after this or not. I haven’t seen the evidence one way or the other and I don't think anybody else has either. But I do know that man’s obsession with the question comes out of his stubborn refusal to face up to his own mortality. Let’s say that if there is an afterlife, and I have anything to say about it, I will unreservedly choose to go to hell. 

PLAYBOY: Why?

ALINSKYHell would be heaven for me. All my life I’ve been with the have-nots. Over here, if you’re a have-not, you’re short of dough. If you’re a have-not in hell, you’re short of virtue. Once I get into hell, I’ll start organizing the have-nots over there. 

PLAYBOY: Why them? 

ALINSKYThey’re my kind of people. 

I enjoyed the delicious incoherence of Alinsky's first response. 

Why There Probably Won’t Be a Serious Inquiry into Priestly Pederasty

Steven Hayward:

Such an inquiry would require journalists to probe into matters that run afoul of liberal orthodoxy today. It is one thing to probe into bad behavior from unpopular and easily demonized cardinals. Blowing open a cover-up is standard Watergate Journalism 101. It’s another thing to open the door to uncomfortable questions about sexual morality in our anything-goes times. And that’s almost as great a moral failing as the bishops and cardinals who cover up the evil in the first place. The point is, while the media will gladly blast the most lurid and awful (but unproven) details of a grand jury report about what took place in Pennsylvania without question, they are unwilling to look deeper into the potential causes and enablers of this evil. That is nearly as contemptible as the cowardly behavior of the Church hierarchy.

Just as the Left cannot tolerate any serious questioning of the morality of abortion, it cannot tolerate any serious questioning of the morality of homosexual practices.  Any raising of those questions would raise questions about their entire worldview. The Left subscribes to the 'wisdom' of that celebrity chef, 'foodie,' and gastro-tourist, Anthony Bourdain, for whom:

Bourdain body not a temple

Man has no higher origin or higher destiny. The body is not the temple of the Holy Spirit or any sort of temple; it is a pleasure factory.  

So what could possibly be wrong with consensual sodomy? But the Church condemns sodomy, consensual or not. Kierkegaard said that Christianity is "heterogeneity to the world." The same is true of the RCC. It is in the world but not of it. It is a rebuke to it and cannot be secularized without being destroyed.

To inquire seriously into the homosexual culture within the Church and to expose it as the root of the rot would involve touching on questions the Left would rather not touch on.