I think there’s something odd about discussing the weightiest matters for trivial ends. If I’m being honest, I think philosophers have lost sight of their true purpose, their ‘that for the sake of which’ they philosophise, especially about the problem of evil. Once upon a time, the purpose of philosophizing about the problem was to correct our attitude to the world, one way or another. Whether to alleviate our anxieties about pleasing the gods, or to remind us of our faulty opinions, or to reassure us about the ultimate underlying goodness of the physical world, we wanted to reconcile our beliefs about God and evil in order to orient ourselves rightly in the world. Like all philosophy, the true purpose of philosophising about the problem of evil was to improve the health of our souls; it was done to help us understand what it is to live well as a human being and to equip us with some resources to make an attempt at doing so. This seems to me to have been a noble aim and worthy purpose, but can we say the same now? How could offering excuses for the permission of the terrible evils of the world help you to orient yourself rightly in this world? What purpose would nit-picking about the improbability of God’s existence serve? There might be answers to these rhetorical questions, but if we don’t know why we are philosophizing about the problem of evil, how can we possibly know whether or when we have achieved what we set out to do?
At some point the problem of evil stopped being something that was meant to help us live well as human beings. It became a matter of weighing up the rationality of theism. From there the story continued into the free-will defence and soul-making theodicy, and sceptical theism, and patient-centred conditions, and horrendous evils, and cumulative case arguments, and inferences to the best explanation, and justifications for genocide, and now the terms of the debate have been completely established. Our position is entrenched. The debate is about whether or not there is good reason to believe the evils of this world are justified by a morally-sufficient reason. Those are the terms of the debate – those are our trenches – and all we can seem to do is work with what we have or slowly dig ourselves in deeper. Do you think we should keep digging? Why? For what purpose? What are you hoping will happen? I question whether we might have lost sight of our purpose, our ‘that for the sake of which’ we are philosophising about the problem of evil. It seems to me that most philosophical discussion of the problem of evil, and most philosophy of religion, and most contemporary philosophy, is characterised by an eagerness to further fortify ourselves against the opposing position, or else find new positions along the line to fortify. It is hard, dirty work. And all the while we are living in trenches. It is not a healthy place to be.
Trench warfare is a grim simile for philosophy. Perhaps you think it’s hyperbolic. Perhaps you’d prefer to see it as a tennis match that has been stuck at deuce for two-thousand years. Any simile will work so long as it captures the sense that there are some clearly-defined historically-established positions endlessly opposing one another with little evidence of progress. The tennis match simile captures this and perhaps also a sense of the futility of the game, but perhaps you can still enjoy hitting a good shot once in a while? Tennis is a leisure activity, after all; there’s no absolute duty not to play tennis badly or even to play tennis at all. But the questions of philosophy have always seemed to me to be more important than this. As ancient philosophers would say, this is the Olympic games! This is a matter of life and death! And not just a matter of life and death but of something more important: of living and dying well. It’s not just a casual game of tennis. To see it as such allows you to trivialise the task in a way that radically undersells what we do, or at least what we ought to be doing. And I would add another feature in any simile, which is that the longer you play the game in this way, or remain entrenched, the harder it is to see the purpose of this practice, to the point that it’s not clear what progress would look like. Progress towards what? Winning the game? (Is it a game?) Ending the war? (Is it a war?) What is expected here? Is it just a matter of returning your opponent’s serve? How petty this is! What do I care about metaphorical tennis?! Can I seriously dedicate my life to such a thing?
When you are in a trench, it is difficult to see out; it is difficult to see that there might be another way. You are not inclined to look for another way because sticking your head above the parapet is a risky business. And so you keep your head down and keep digging. You look left and right and see other people digging, and they congratulate you on your work, even awarding you occasional medals for your service. It provides you with a living. You’re not sure why you are doing what you do but you feel like you have no choice but to keep on digging. Your position depends upon it. We dedicate our lives to these matters. Shouldn’t we be clear about their value? We, of all people. Don’t we call ourselves philosophers?
An edited extract from The Problem: A Dialogue on the Problem of Evil
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