The Problem of Evil Assignment

 Need some help with Apologetics Field-Based Activity: The Problem of Evil Assignment

APOL 500

APOL 500

Apologetics Field-Based Activity: The Problem of Evil Assignment Template

Do not change any aspect of this template; and do not delete anything except the type of defense or theodicy that you will be constructing from this template (see 1a below). Instead, just type your content in the spaces provided, below. Before typing your content, you should review the entire document to be sure you understand what is required.

Type your name here:

Instructions for this submission

The purpose of the activity is to provide you with an opportunity to construct a short defense or theodicy for the problem of evil while anticipating possible objections to that defense or theodicy and then sharing it in a conversation In the sections provided below, you will insert your construction and possible objections; you will enter the date, time, setting, and short description of the person with whom you share; and a short reflection on the sharing experience.

1.
Construct a short defense or theodicy for the problem of evil while anticipating possible objections.

a.
Type below the list, the type of defense or theodicy that you will be constructing; delete those you are not using in order to avoid possible confusion (limit yourself to one of the below):

The logical problem of evil

Free-will defense (Gould, p. 147-50; Sweis, p. 422-32)

Horrendous evil defense (Sweis, p. 450-57)

The evidential problem of evil (Gould, p. 150-59)

Option 2 – Defense (Gould p. 157-59)

Option 1 – theodicy/explanation (Gould, p. 153-57)

Free will theodicy (Gould, p. 154-157; Sweis, p. 419-21)

Punishment theodicy (Gould, p. 153)

Natural consequences theodicy (Gould, p. 153)

Natural law theodicy (Gould, p. 153)

Punishment theodicy (Gould, p. 153)

Higher-order goods theodicy (Gould, p. 153)

Soul-making theodicy (Sweis, p. 433-43);
remember that we learned last module that Hicks is a sophisticated religious pluralist.

Christian tradition theodicy (Sweis, p. 444-49)

b.
Lay out your defense or theodicy as you plan to use it in the conversation you will be having.

c.
Anticipate two to three possible objections and how you would address those objections in a short conversation.

2.
Sharing your defense or theodicy for the problem of evil.

a.
Identify the time and place in which you had the conversation.

b.
Identify the setting (coffeeshop, online, text, etc. It must, however, be a conversation and not a monologue):

c.
Identify your conversation partner (no names please): unbeliever, believer; uncertain; knowledge level, attitude of partner (antagonistic, interested, doubtful, devil’s advocate).

3.
Reflection in which you describe how the conversation went, the reaction of your conversation partner both during and after the presentation of the defense or theodicy, what you might have done differently, and how you feel after presentation about the strength of your defense or theodicy.

a.
Describe details about how the conversation went.

b.
Describe the reaction of your conversation partner both during and after the presentation of the argument.

c.
Describe what you might have done differently.

d.
Describe what you feel after the presentation about the strength of the argument.

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APOL 500

APOL 500

Apologetics Field-Based Activity: The Problem of Evil Assignment Template

Do not change any aspect of this template; and do not delete anything except the type of defense or theodicy that you will be constructing from this template (see 1a below). Instead, just type your content in the spaces provided, below. Before typing your content, you should review the entire document to be sure you understand what is required.

Type your name here:

Instructions for this submission

The purpose of the activity is to provide you with an opportunity to construct a short defense or theodicy for the problem of evil while anticipating possible objections to that defense or theodicy and then sharing it in a conversation In the sections provided below, you will insert your construction and possible objections; you will enter the date, time, setting, and short description of the person with whom you share; and a short reflection on the sharing experience.

1.
Construct a short defense or theodicy for the problem of evil while anticipating possible objections.

a.
Type below the list, the type of defense or theodicy that you will be constructing; delete those you are not using in order to avoid possible confusion (limit yourself to one of the below):

The logical problem of evil

Free-will defense (Gould, p. 147-50; Sweis, p. 422-32)

b.
Lay out your defense or theodicy as you plan to use it in the conversation you will be having.

c.
Anticipate two to three possible objections and how you would address those objections in a short conversation.

2.
Sharing your defense or theodicy for the problem of evil.

a.
Identify the time and place in which you had the conversation.

b.
Identify the setting (coffeeshop, online, text, etc. It must, however, be a conversation and not a monologue):

c.
Identify your conversation partner (no names please): unbeliever, believer; uncertain; knowledge level, attitude of partner (antagonistic, interested, doubtful, devil’s advocate).

3.
Reflection in which you describe how the conversation went, the reaction of your conversation partner both during and after the presentation of the defense or theodicy, what you might have done differently, and how you feel after presentation about the strength of your defense or theodicy.

a.
Describe details about how the conversation went.

b.
Describe the reaction of your conversation partner both during and after the presentation of the argument.

c.
Describe what you might have done differently.

d.
Describe what you feel after the presentation about the strength of the argument.

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The Problem of Evil

You may not have heard of the name Kevin Carter, but you’ve probably seen the famous picture he took during the 1993 famine in Sudan. The picture is horrific. A starving child crawls through the bush toward a feeding station. A few yards away, a vulture longingly awaits its soon-to-be-dead prey. This picture captures in a powerful way the reality, horror,

and

intensity of the suffering and cruelty found in this world. For Carter, the picture won him a Pulitzer Prize. He had risen to the summit of his profession by capturing images of pain and suffering. A few months after winning the Pulitzer, Carter committed suicide. In a note he explained, “The pain of life overrides the joy to the point that joy does not exist.” He had come face-to-face with evil and could not cope with its sting.

The reality of pain and suffering—evil—raises at least three pressing questions for the Christian. First, does the reality of evil in the world show that God doesn’t (or probably doesn’t) exist? Many thoughtful people look at the distribution or amount of evil in the world and conclude on that basis that there is no God. Thus, our first challenge is to consider the strength of the case for atheism given the existence of evil. Second, assuming God does exist, why does he allow pain and suffering? Finally, how does one cope with the reality of evil?

Before we begin, understand that these questions are often regarded as intractable because of a failure to ask preliminary questions. In other words, there is a prior question to our questions, one percolating beneath the surface for the men and women on the streets. The prior question has to do with the nature of happiness. Most today, without much reflection, think of happiness as sensual fulfillment or pleasure. On this understanding of happiness, man’s greatest need is the elimination of pain and suffering (i.e., the opposite of pleasure), and this is found through progress and the ultimate savior: technology. But this “answer” to the problem of pain does not go deep enough. It does not address man’s greatest need. Nor is it really an answer; rather, it is a denial of the problem. Biblically, happiness is not hedonistic, but edenistic. That is, happiness is best understood as a kind of human flourishing where we each become the kind of person God wants us to be (morally and intellectually virtuous) and experience life the way it was meant to be (in intimacy with God and harmony with others) as we live out his purposes. But if true happiness is a kind of human flourishing, then humanity’s greatest need isn’t merely the elimination of pain. The problem goes much deeper—to the core of our being. For humanity is flawed, cracked, broken—to use the old word, sinful—and our deepest need is redemption and restoration. Technology can’t even scratch the surface of our deepest need. An understanding of the nature of happiness and God’s role in such happiness locates the problem of evil—and it is a problem—within its proper context, a context we’ll revisit at the end of the chapter. Now, let’s consider our three pressing questions.

The problem associated with our first pressing question deals with what is called the intellectual problem of evil. The intellectual problem of evil is concerned with providing a rational explanation of the coexistence of God and evil and comes in two versions. The first version, the logical problem of evil, argues that the existence of an omniscient, omnipotent, and wholly good God is incompatible with the reality of evil. If successful, such an argument would show, assuming that evil exists, that God’s existence is impossible. A second version of the intellectual problem of evil, the evidential problem of evil, tries to show that the coexistence of God and evil are highly improbable.

In addressing the issues pertinent to the evidential problem, our second pressing question comes into focus: what, if any, are the reasons for God to allow pain and suffering? Moreover, can we know God’s reasons for some or all instances of evil? Our third pressing question deals with what has been called the emotional problem of evil and concerns how to comfort someone who is experiencing evil. By clearly distinguishing the kinds of questions asked with respect to pain and suffering, it will become easier to identify the root cause of someone’s unbelief. It could be, as William Lane Craig suggests, that for most people their unbelief is born out of a rejection of God in the face of intense personal suffering rather than a refutation of God via intellectual argument. If so, then a more pastoral response would be in order. If, on the other hand, the root cause of the unbelief is intellectual, then the response will be more philosophical. We begin by exploring the logical problem of evil.

figure 9.1 The Different Versions of the Problem of Evil

The Logical Problem of Evil

A set of statements is logically inconsistent when it is impossible for them all to be true at the same time. For example, consider the following statements:

(1) Jim Bob is a bachelor

and

(2) Suzy is married to Jim Bob.

Given the meanings of the words “bachelor” and “married,” these two statements are clearly inconsistent, assuming “Jim Bob” refers to the same guy at the same time. However, the inconsistency isn’t always obvious, or at least it isn’t for those who don’t understand what the words “bachelor” and “married” mean. Sometimes the contradiction needs to be made explicit. To do so, what is needed is some other statement—a statement that is necessarily true—that entails, along with a statement from the original pair, the denial of the other statement from the original pair. The following statement should do the trick:

(3) A bachelor is an unmarried male.

The conjunction of (1) and (3) renders (2) impossible.

Historically, many atheists have argued that there is a similar logical inconsistency between the statements

(4) God is omnipotent, omniscient, and wholly good

and

(5) There is evil in the world.

Given the obvious reality of evil in the world, statement (5) is exceedingly difficult to deny. Thus, if there is a logical inconsistency between (4) and (5), and (5) is clearly true, then (4) must be false. Thus, we will have found a proof that God doesn’t exist. In the case of Jim Bob and Suzy, we didn’t really need to go to the trouble of proving that (1) and (2) are logically inconsistent because we can just see that they are, given the widely understood notion of what it means to be a bachelor. With respect to (4) and (5), the inconsistency is not obvious. Thus we must find some additional statement or statements that render the contradiction apparent.

One of the most prominent proponents of the logical problem of evil was J. L. Mackie, who suggested the needed additions “are that good is opposed to evil, in such a way that a good thing always eliminates evil as far as it can, and that there are no limits to what an omnipotent thing can do.” Following Mackie, we might add:

(6) A good being always eliminates evil as far as it can,

and

(7) There are no limits to what an omnipotent being can do.

As long as (6) and (7) are necessarily true, it seems we have found our inconsistent set, for the conjunction of (4) with (6) and (7) renders (5), the reality of evil in the world, impossible. The result for the believer in God is catastrophic: either deny the obvious truth of (5) or surrender commitment to (4).

The problem when considering Mackie is that neither (6) nor (7) is necessarily true, and thus the logical problem of evil fails. As Alvin Plantinga points out in his free will defense, (6) is not necessarily true since a wholly good being might have a morally sufficient reason to permit evil to occur. Further, (7) is not necessarily true because the reality of human freedom might make it impossible for God to bring about a world as morally good as this world without the presence of evil. As Plantinga puts it:

A world containing creatures who are sometimes 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.… To create creatures capable of moral good, therefore, he must create creatures capable of moral evil; and he cannot leave these creatures free to perform evil and at the same time prevent them from doing so. God did in fact create significantly free creatures; but some of them went wrong in the exercise of their freedom: this is the source of moral evil. The fact that these creatures sometimes go wrong, however, counts neither against God’s omnipotence nor against his goodness; for he could have forestalled the occurrence of moral evil only by excising the possibility of moral good.

As a result of Plantinga’s influential work, the prospect of proving a logical incompatibility between the reality of an omnipotent, omniscient, and wholly good God and the reality of evil in this world is significantly diminished, if not entirely hopeless.

Before setting the logical argument aside, let’s examine a popular reply to Plantinga’s free will defense: Couldn’t God create free but morally perfect individuals, individuals who always choose the good? The suggestion is that since God is omnipotent, he can create any world he wants, including a world where people always freely choose the good. Unfortunately, even an omnipotent God cannot create any world he wants (e.g., God cannot create a world full of married bachelors). If people have free will, they may refuse to cooperate with God. Thus, there are a number of worlds that God cannot create because people in them wouldn’t comply with God’s desires. In fact, for all we know, it’s possible that there are no worlds in which free creatures always do what God wants. If so, then there are no worlds with free but morally perfect individuals, and the “free but perfect” objection fails.

Figure 9.2—Freedom and Determinism

Plantinga’s free will defense relies on a conception of freedom called incompatibilism (it is also called, more positively, libertarian freedom): freedom is incompatible with being determined. Thus, as a libertarianly free creature, I am the ultimate source of my actions and decisions and often (if not always) I have genuine alternate possibilities from which to choose. Alternatively, compatibilism holds that freedom is compatible with being determined: even if my actions and decisions are determined by either the laws of nature and the initial conditions of the universe (physical determinism) or God (theological determinism), as long as I am not coerced, I am free.

Paul Gould, Travis Dickinson, and Keith Loftin, Stand Firm: Apologetics and the Brilliance of the Gospel (Nashville, TN: B&H Academic, 2018), 145–150.

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Chapter 44

A Free Will Defense

The Free Will Defense

In what follows I shall focus attention upon the Free Will Defense. I shall examine it m

or

e closely, state it more exactly,

and

consider objections to it; and I shall argue that in the end it is successful. Earlier [in God, Freedom, and Evil] we saw that among good states of affairs there are some that not even God can bring about without bringing about evil: those goods, namely, that entail or include evil states of affairs. The Free Will Defense can be looked upon as an effort to show that there may be a very different kind of good that God can’t bring about without permitting evil. These are good states of affairs that don’t include evil; they do not entail the existence of any evil whatever; nonetheless God Himself can’t bring them about without permitting evil.

So how does the Free Will Defense work? And what does the Free Will Defender mean when he says that people are or may be free? What is relevant to the Free Will Defense is the idea of being free with respect to an action. If a person is free with respect to a given action, then he is free to perform that action and free to refrain from performing it; no antecedent conditions and/or causal laws determine that he will perform the action, or that he won’t. It is within his power, at the time in question, to take or perform the action and within his power to refrain from it. Freedom so conceived is not to be confused with unpredictability. You might be able to predict what you will do in a given situation even if you are free, in that situation, to do something else. If I know you well, I may be able to predict what action you will take in response to a certain set of conditions; it does not follow that you are not free with respect to that action. Secondly, I shall say that an action is morally significant, for a given person, if it would be wrong for him to perform the action but right to refrain or vice versa. Keeping a promise, for example, would ordinarily be morally significant for a person, as would refusing induction into the army. On the other hand, having Cheerios for breakfast (instead of Wheaties) would not normally be morally significant. Further, suppose we say that a person is significantly free, on a given occasion, if he is then free with respect to a morally significant action. And finally we must distinguish between moral evil and natural evil. The former is evil that results from free human activity; natural evil is any other kind of evil.

Given these definitions and distinctions, we can make a preliminary statement of the Free Will Defense as follows. 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. As it turned out, sadly enough, some of the free creatures God created went wrong in the exercise of their freedom; this is the source of moral evil. The fact that free creatures sometimes go wrong, however, counts neither against God’s omnipotence nor against His goodness; for He could have forestalled the occurrence of moral evil only by removing the possibility of moral good.

I said earlier [in God, Freedom, and Evil] that the Free Will Defender tries to find a proposition that is consistent with

(1) God is omniscient, omnipotent, and wholly good

and together with (l) entails that there is evil. According to the Free Will Defense, we must find this proposition somewhere in the above story. The heart of the Free Will Defense is the claim that it is possible that God could not have created a universe containing moral good (or as much moral good as this world contains) without creating one that also contained moral evil. And if so, then it is possible that God has a good reason for creating a world containing evil.

Now this defense has met with several kinds of objections. For example, some philosophers say that causal determinism and freedom, contrary to what we might have thought, are not really incompatible. But if so, then God could have created free creatures who were free, and free to do what is wrong, but nevertheless were causally determined to do only what is right. Thus He could have created creatures who were free to do what was wrong, while nevertheless preventing them from ever performing any wrong actions—simply by seeing to it that they were causally determined to do only what is right. Of course this contradicts the Free Will Defense, according to which there is inconsistency in supposing that God determines free creatures to do only what is right. But is it really possible that all of a person’s actions are causally determined while some of them are free? How could that be so? According to one version of the doctrine in question, to say that George acts freely on a given occasion is to say only this: if George had chosen to do otherwise, he would have done otherwise. Now George’s action A is causally determined if some event E—some event beyond his control—has already occurred, where the state of affairs consisting in E’s occurrence conjoined with George’s refraining from performing A, is a causally impossible state of affairs. Then one can consistently hold both that all of a man’s actions are causally determined and that some of them are free in the above sense. For suppose that all of a man’s actions are causally determined and that he couldn’t, on any occasion, have made any choice or performed any action different from the ones he did make and perform. It could still be true that if he had chosen to do otherwise, he would have done otherwise. Granted, he couldn’t have chosen to do otherwise; but this is consistent with saying that if he had, things would have gone differently.

This objection to the Free Will Defense seems utterly implausible. One might as well claim that being in jail doesn’t really limit one’s freedom on the grounds that if one were not in jail, he’d be free to come and go as he pleased. So I shall say no more about this objection here.

A second objection is more formidable. In essence it goes like this. Surely it is possible to do only what is right, even if one is free to do wrong. It is possible, in that broadly logical sense, that there be a world containing free creatures who always do what is right. There is certainly no contradiction or inconsistency in this idea. But God is omnipotent; his power has no nonlogical limitations. So if it’s possible that there be a world containing creatures who are free to do what is wrong but never in fact do so, then it follows that an omnipotent God could create such a world. If so, however, the Free Will Defense must be mistaken in its insistence upon the possibility that God is omnipotent but unable to create a world containing moral good without permitting moral evil. J. L. Mackie … states this objection:

If God has made men such that in their free choices they sometimes prefer what is good and sometimes what is evil, why could he not have made men such that they always freely choose the good? If there is no logical impossibility in a man’s freely choosing the good on one, or on several occasions, there cannot be a logical impossibility in his freely choosing the good on every occasion. God was not, then, faced with a choice between making innocent automata and making beings who, in acting freely, would sometimes go wrong; there was open to him the obviously better possibility of making beings who would act freely but always go right. Clearly, his failure to avail himself of this possibility is inconsistent with his being both omnipotent and wholly good.

Now what, exactly, is Mackie’s point here? This. According to the Free Will Defense, it is possible both that God is omnipotent and that He was unable to create a world containing moral good without creating one containing moral evil. But, replies Mackie, this limitation on His power to create is inconsistent with God’s omnipotence. For surely it’s possible that there be a world containing perfectly virtuous persons—persons who are significantly free but always do what is right. Surely there are possible worlds that contain moral good but no moral evil. But God, if He is omnipotent, can create any possible world He chooses. So it is not possible, contrary to the Free Will Defense, both that God is omnipotent and that He could create a world containing moral good only by creating one containing moral evil. If He is omnipotent, the only limitations of His power are logical limitations; in which case there are no possible worlds He could not have created.

This is a subtle and important point. According to the great German philosopher G.W. Leibniz, this world, the actual world, must be the best of all possible worlds. His reasoning goes as follows. Before God created anything at all, He was confronted with an enormous range of choices; He could create or bring into actuality any of the myriads of different possible worlds. Being perfectly good, He must have chosen to create the best world He could; being omnipotent, He was able to create any possible world He pleased. He must, therefore, have chosen the best of all possible worlds; and hence this world, the one He did create, must be the best possible. Now Mackie, of course, agrees with Leibniz that God, if omnipotent, could have created any world He pleased and would have created the best world he could. But while Leibniz draws the conclusion that this world, despite appearances, must be the best possible, Mackie concludes instead that there is no omnipotent, wholly good God. For, he says, it is obvious enough that this present world is not the best of all possible worlds.

The Free Will Defender disagrees with both Leibniz and Mackie. In the first place, he might say, what is the reason for supposing that there is such a thing as the best of all possible worlds? No matter how marvelous a world is—containing no matter how many persons enjoying unalloyed bliss—isn’t it possible that there be an even better world containing even more persons enjoying even more unalloyed bliss? But what is really characteristic and central to the Free Will Defense is the claim that God, though omnipotent, could not have actualized just any possible world He pleased.

Was It within God’s Power to Create Any Possible World He Pleased?

This is indeed the crucial question for the Free Will Defense. If we wish to discuss it with insight and authority, we shall have to look into the idea of possible worlds. And a sensible first question is this: what sort of thing is a possible world? The basic idea is that a possible world is a way things could have been; it is a state of affairs of some kind. Earlier we spoke of states of affairs, in particular of good and evil states of affairs. Suppose we look at this idea in more detail. What sort of thing is a state of affairs? The following would be examples:

Nixon’s having won the 1972 election

7 + 5’s being equal to 12

All men’s being mortal

and

Gary, Indiana’s, having a really nasty pollution problem.

These are actual states of affairs: states of affairs that do in fact obtain. And corresponding to each such actual state of affairs there is a true proposition—in the above cases, the corresponding propositions would be Nixon won the 1972 presidential election, 7 + 5 is equal to 12, all men are mortal, and Gary, Indiana, has a really nasty pollution problem. A proposition p corresponds to a state of affairs s, in this sense, if it is impossible that p be true and s fail to obtain and impossible that s obtain and p fail to be true.

But just as there are false propositions, so there are states of affairs that do not obtain or are not actual. Kissinger’s having swum the Atlantic and Hubert Horatio Humphrey’s having run a mile in four minutes would be examples. Some states of affairs that do not obtain are impossible: e.g., Hubert’s having drawn a square circle, 7 + 5’s being equal to 75, and Agnew’s having a brother who was an only child. The propositions corresponding to these states of affairs, of course, are necessarily false. So there are states of affairs that obtain or are actual and also states of affairs that don’t obtain. Among the latter some are impossible and others are possible. And a possible world is a possible state of affairs. Of course not every possible state of affairs is a possible world; Hubert’s having run a mile in four minutes is a possible state of affairs but not a possible world. No doubt it is an element of many possible worlds, but it isn’t itself inclusive enough to be one. To be a possible world, a state of affairs must be very large—so large as to be complete or maximal.

To get at this idea of completeness we need a couple of definitions.… [A] state of affairs A includes a state of affairs B if it is not possible that A obtain and B not obtain or if the conjunctive state of affairs A but not B—the state of affairs that obtains if and only if A obtains and B does not—is not possible. For example, Jim Whittaker’s being the first American to climb Mt. Everest includes Jim Whittaker’s being an American. It also includes Mt. Everest’s being climbed, something’s being climbed, no American’s having climbed Everest before Whittaker did, and the like. Inclusion among states of affairs is like entailment among propositions; and where a state of affairs A includes a state of affairs B, the proposition corresponding to A entails the one corresponding to B. Accordingly, Jim Whittaker is the first American to climb Everest entails Mt. Everest has been climbed, something has been climbed, and no American climbed Everest before Whittaker did. Now suppose we say further that a state of affairs A precludes a state of affairs B if it is not possible that both obtain, or if the conjunctive state of affairs A and B is impossible. Thus Whittaker’s being the first American to climb Mt. Everest precludes Luther Jerstad’s being the first American to climb Everest, as well as Whittaker’s never having climbed any mountains. If A precludes B, then A’s corresponding proposition entails the denial of the one corresponding to B. Still further, let’s say that the complement of a state of affairs is the state of affairs that obtains just in case A does not obtain. [Or we might say that the complement (call it A*) of A is the state of affairs corresponding to the denial or negation of the proposition corresponding to A.] Given these definitions, we can say what it is for a state of affairs to be complete: A is a complete state of affairs if and only if for every state of affairs B, either A includes B or A precludes B. (We could express the same thing by saying that if A is a complete state of affairs, then for every state of affairs B, either A includes B or A includes B*, the complement of B.) And now we are able to say what a possible world is: a possible world is any possible state of affairs that is complete. If A is a possible world, then it says something about everything; every state of affairs S is either included in or precluded by it.

Corresponding to each possible world W, furthermore, there is a set of propositions that I’ll call the book on W. A proposition is in the book on W just in case the state of affairs to which it corresponds is included in W. Or we might express it like this. Suppose we say that a proposition P is true in a world W if and only if P would have been true if W had been actual—if and only if, that is, it is not possible that W be actual and P be false. Then the book on W is the set of propositions true in W. Like possible worlds, books are complete; if B is a book, then for any proposition P, either P or the denial of P will be a member of B. A book is a maximal consistent set of propositions; it is so large that the addition of another proposition to it always yields an explicitly inconsistent set.

Of course, for each possible world there is exactly one book corresponding to it (that is, for a given world W there is just one book B such that each member of B is true in W); and for each book there is just one world to which it corresponds. So every world has its book.

It should be obvious that exactly one possible world is actual. At least one must be, since the set of true propositions is a maximal consistent set and hence a book. But then it corresponds to a possible world, and the possible world corresponding to this set of propositions (since it’s the set of true propositions) will be actual. On the other hand there is at most one actual world. For suppose there were two: W and W´. These worlds cannot include all the very same states of affairs; if they did, they would be the very same world. So there must be at least one state of affairs S such that W includes S and W´ does not. But a possible world is maximal; W´, therefore, includes the complement S of S. So if both W and W´ were actual, as we have supposed, then both S and S* would be actual—which is impossible. So there can’t be more than one possible world that is actual.

Leibniz pointed out that a proposition p is necessary if it is true in every possible world. We may add that p is possible if it is true in one world and impossible if true in none. Furthermore, p entails q if there is no possible world in which p is true and q is false; and p is consistent with q if there is at least one world in which both p and q are true.

A further feature of possible worlds is that people (and other things) exist in them. Each of us exists in the actual world, obviously; but a person also exists in many worlds distinct from the actual world. It would be a mistake, of course, to think of all of these worlds as somehow “going on” at the same time, with the same person reduplicated through these worlds and actually existing in a lot of different ways. This is not what is meant by saying that the same person exists in different possible worlds. What is meant, instead, is this: a person Paul exists in each of those possible worlds W which is such that, if W had been actual, Paul would have existed—actually existed. Suppose Paul had been an inch taller than he is, or a better tennis player. Then the world that does in fact obtain would not have been actual; some other world—W´, let’s say—would have obtained instead. If W´ had been actual, Paul would have existed; so Paul exists in W´. (Of course there are still other possible worlds in which Paul does not exist—worlds, for example, in which there are no people at all.) Accordingly, when we say that Paul exists in a world W, what we mean is that Paul would have existed had W been actual. Or we could put it like this: Paul exists in each world W that includes the state of affairs consisting in Paul’s existence. We can put this still more simply by saying that Paul exists in those worlds whose books contain the proposition Paul exists.

But isn’t there a problem here? Many people are named “Paul”: Paul the apostle, Paul J. Zwier, John Paul Jones, and many other famous Pauls. So who goes with “Paul exists”? Which Paul? The answer has to do with the fact that books contain propositions—not sentences. They contain the sort of thing sentences are used to express and assert. And the same sentence—“Aristotle is wise,” for example—can be used to express many different propositions. When Plato used it, he asserted a proposition predicating wisdom of his famous pupil; when Jackie Onassis uses it, she asserts a proposition predicating wisdom of her wealthy husband. These are distinct propositions (we might even think they differ in truth value); but they are expressed by the same sentence. Normally (but not always) we don’t have much trouble determining which of the several propositions expressed by a given sentence is relevant in the context at hand. So in this case a given person, Paul, exists in a world W if and only if W´s book contains the proposition that says that he—that particular person—exists. The fact that the sentence we use to express this proposition can also be used to express other propositions is not relevant.

After this excursion into the nature of books and worlds we can return to our question. Could God have created just any world He chose? Before addressing the question, however, we must note that God does not, strictly speaking, create any possible worlds or states of affairs at all. What He creates are the heavens and the earth and all that they contain. But He has not created states of affairs. There are, for example, the state of affairs consisting in God’s existence and the state of affairs consisting in His nonexistence. That is, there is such a thing as the state of affairs consisting in the existence of God, and there is also such a thing as the state of affairs consisting in the nonexistence of God, just as there are the two propositions God exists and God does not exist. The theist believes that the first state of affairs is actual and the first proposition true; the atheist believes that the second state of affairs is actual and the second proposition true. But, of course, both propositions exist, even though just one

is true.

Similarly, there are two states of affairs here, just one of which is actual. So both states of affairs exist, but only one obtains. And God has not created either one of them since there never was a time at which either did not exist. Nor has He created the state of affairs consisting in the earth’s existence; there was a time when the earth did not exist, but none when the state of affairs consisting in the earth’s existence didn’t exist. Indeed, God did not bring into existence any states of affairs at all. What He did was to perform actions of a certain sort—creating the heavens and the earth, for example—which resulted in the actuality of certain states of affairs. God actualizes states of affairs. He actualizes the possible world that does in fact obtain; He does not create it. And while He has created Socrates, He did not create the state of affairs consisting in Socrates’ existence.

Bearing this in mind, let’s finally return to our question. Is the atheologian right in holding that if God is omnipotent, then he could have actualized or created any possible world He pleased? Not obviously. First, we must ask ourselves whether God is a necessary or a contingent being. A necessary being is one that exists in every possible world—one that would have existed no matter which possible world had been actual; a contingent being exists only in some possible worlds. Now if God is not a necessary being (and many, perhaps most, theists think that He is not), then clearly enough there will be many possible worlds He could not have actualized—all those, for example, in which He does not exist. Clearly, God could not have created a world in which He doesn’t even exist.

So, if God is a contingent being then there are many possible worlds beyond His power to create. But this is really irrelevant to our present concerns. For perhaps the atheologian can maintain his case if he revises his claim to avoid this difficulty; perhaps he will say something like this: if God is omnipotent, then He could have actualized any of those possible worlds in which He exists. So if He exists and is omnipotent, He could have actualized (contrary to the Free Will Defense) any of those possible worlds in which He exists and in which there exist free creatures who do no wrong. He could have actualized worlds containing moral good but no moral evil. Is this correct?

Let’s begin with a trivial example. You and Paul have just returned from an Australian hunting expedition: your quarry was the elusive double-wattled cassowary. Paul captured an aardvark, mistaking it for a cassowary. The creature’s disarming ways have won it a place in Paul’s heart; he is deeply attached to it. Upon your return to the States you offer Paul $500 for his aardvark, only to be rudely turned down. Later you ask yourself, “What would he have done if I’d offered him $700?” Now what is it, exactly, that you are asking? What you’re really asking in a way is whether, under a specific set of conditions, Paul would have sold it. These conditions include your having offered him $700 rather than $500 for the aardvark, everything else being as much as possible like the conditions that did in fact obtain. Let S´ be this set of conditions or state of affairs. S´ includes the state of affairs consisting in your offering Paul $700 (instead of the $500 you did offer him); of course it does not include his accepting your offer, and it does not include his rejecting it; for the rest, the conditions it includes are just like the ones that did obtain in the actual world. So, for example, S´ includes Paul’s being free to accept the offer and free to refrain; and if in fact the going rate for an aardvark was $650, then S´ includes the state of affairs consisting in the going rate’s being $650. So we might put your question by asking which of the following conditionals is true:

(23) If the state of affairs S´ had obtained, Paul would have accepted the offer

(24) If the state of affairs S´ had obtained, Paul would not have accepted the offer.

It seems clear that at least one of these conditionals is true, but naturally they can’t both be; so exactly one is.

Now since S´ includes neither Paul’s accepting the offer nor his rejecting it, the antecedent of (23) and
(24) does not entail the consequent of either. That is,

(25) S´ obtains

does not entail either

(26) Paul accepts the offer

or

(27) Paul does not accept the offer.

So there are possible worlds in which both (25) and (26) are true, and other possible worlds in which both (25) and (27) are true.

We are now in a position to grasp an important fact. Either (23) or (24) is in fact true; and either way there are possible worlds God could not have actualized. Suppose, first of all, that (23) is true. Then it was beyond the power of God to create a world in which (1) Paul is free to sell his aardvark and free to refrain, and in which the other states of affairs included in S´ obtain, and (2) Paul does not sell. That is, it was beyond His power to create a world in which (25) and (27) are both true. There is at least one possible world like this, but God, despite His omnipotence, could not have brought about its actuality. For let W be such a world. To actualize W, God must bring it about that Paul is free with respect to this action, and that the other states of affairs included in S´ obtain. But (23), as we are supposing, is true; so if God had actualized S´ and left Paul free with respect to this action, he would have sold: in which case W would not have been actual. If, on the other hand, God had brought it about that Paul didn’t sell or had caused him to refrain from selling, then Paul would not have been free with respect to this action; then S´ would not have been actual (since S´ includes Paul’s being free with respect to it), and W would not have been actual since W includes S´.

Of course if it is (24) rather than (23) that is true, then another class of worlds was beyond God’s power to actualize—those, namely, in which S´ obtains and Paul sells his aardvark. These are the worlds in which both (25) and (26) are true. But either (23) or (24) is true. Therefore, there are possible worlds God could not have actualized. If we consider whether or not God could have created a world in which, let’s say, both (25) and (26) are true, we see that the answer depends upon a peculiar kind of fact; it depends upon what Paul would have freely chosen to do in a certain situation. So there are any number of possible worlds such that it is partly up to Paul whether God can create them.

That was a past tense example. Perhaps it would be useful to consider a future tense case, since this might seem to correspond more closely to God’s situation in choosing a possible world to actualize. At some time t in the near future Maurice will be free with respect to some insignificant action—having freeze-dried oatmeal for breakfast, let’s say. That is, at time t Maurice will be free to have oatmeal but also free to take something else—shredded wheat, perhaps. Next, suppose we consider S´, a state of affairs that is included in the actual world and includes Maurice’s being free with respect to taking oatmeal at time t. That is, S´ includes Maurice’s being free at time t to take oatmeal and free to reject it. S´ does not include Maurice’s taking oatmeal, however; nor does it include his rejecting it. For the rest S´ is as much as possible like the actual world. In particular there are many conditions that do in fact hold at time t and are relevant to his choice—such conditions, for example, as the fact that he hasn’t had oatmeal lately, that his wife will be annoyed if he rejects it, and the like; and S´ includes each of these conditions. Now God no doubt knows what Maurice will do at time t, if S obtains; He knows which action Maurice would freely perform if S were to be actual. That is, God knows that one of the following conditionals is true:

(28) If S´ were to obtain, Maurice will freely take the oatmeal

or

(29) If S´ were to obtain, Maurice will freely reject it.

We may not know which of these is true, and Maurice himself may not know; but presumably God does.

So either God knows that (28) is true, or else He knows that (29) is. Let’s suppose it is (28). Then there is a possible world that God, though omnipotent, cannot create. For consider a possible world W´ that shares S´ with the actual world (which for ease of reference I’ll name “Kronos”) and in which Maurice does not take oatmeal. (We know there is such a world, since S´ does not include Maurice’s taking the oatmeal.) S´ obtains in W´ just as it does in Kronos. Indeed, everything in W´ is just as it is in Kronos up to time t. But whereas in Kronos Maurice takes oatmeal at time t, in W´ he does not. Now W´ is a perfectly possible world; but it is not within God’s power to create it or bring about its actuality. For to do so He must actualize S´. But (28) is in fact true. So if God actualizes S´ (as He must to create W´) and leaves Maurice free with respect to the action in question, then he will take the oatmeal; and then, of course, W´ will not be actual. If, on the other hand, God causes Maurice to refrain from taking the oatmeal, then he is not free to take it. That means, once again, that W´ is not actual; for in W´ Maurice is free to take the oatmeal (even if he doesn’t do so). So if (28) is true, then this world W´ is one that God can’t actualize; it is not within His power to actualize it even though He is omnipotent and it is a possible world.

Of course, if it is (29) that is true, we get a similar result; then too there are possible worlds that God can’t actualize. These would be worlds which share S´ with Kronos and in which Maurice does take oatmeal. But either (28) or (29) is true; so either way there is a possible world that God can’t create. If we consider a world in which S´ obtains and in which Maurice freely chooses oatmeal at time t, we see that whether or not it is within God’s power to actualize it depends upon what Maurice would do if he were free in a certain situation. Accordingly, there are any number of possible worlds such that it is partly up to Maurice whether or not God can actualize them. It is, of course, up to God whether or not to create Maurice and also up to God whether or not to make him free with respect to the action of taking oatmeal at time t. (God could, if He chose, cause him to succumb to the dreaded equine obsession, a condition shared by some people and most horses, whose victims find it psychologically impossible to refuse oats or oat products.) But if He creates Maurice and creates him free with respect to this action, then whether or not he actually performs the action is up to Maurice—not God.

Now we can return to the Free Will Defense and the problem of evil. The Free Will Defender, you recall, insists on the possibility that it is not within God’s power to create a world containing moral good without creating one containing moral evil. His atheological opponent—Mackie, for example—agrees with Leibniz in insisting that if (as the theist holds) God is omnipotent, then it follows that He could have created any possible world He pleased. We now see that this contention—call it “Leibniz’ Lapse”—is a mistake. The atheologian is right in holding that there are many possible worlds containing moral good but no moral evil; his mistake lies in endorsing Leibniz’ Lapse. So one of his premises—that God, if omnipotent, could have actualized just any world He pleased—is false.

Could God Have Created a World Containing Moral Good but No Moral Evil?

Now suppose we recapitulate the logic of the situation. The Free Will Defender claims that the following is possible:

(30) God is omnipotent, and it was not within His power to create a world containing moral good but no moral evil.

By way of retort the atheologian insists that there are possible worlds containing moral good but no moral evil. He adds that an omnipotent being could have actualized any possible world he chose. So if God is omnipotent, it follows that He could have actualized a world containing moral good but no moral evil; hence (30), contrary to the Free Will Defender’s claim, is not possible. What we have seen so far is that his second premiss—Leibniz’ Lapse—is false.

Of course, this does not settle the issue in the Free Will Defender’s favor. Leibniz’ Lapse (appropriately enough for a lapse) is false; but this doesn’t show that (30) is possible. To show this latter we must demonstrate the possibility that among the worlds God could not have actualized are all the worlds containing moral good but no moral evil. How can we approach this question?

Instead of choosing oatmeal for breakfast or selling an aardvark, suppose we think about a morally significant action such as taking a bribe. Curley Smith, the mayor of Boston, is opposed to the proposed freeway route; it would require destruction of the Old North Church along with some other antiquated and structurally unsound buildings. L. B. Smedes, the director of highways, asks him whether he’d drop his opposition for $1 million. “Of course,” he replies. “Would you do it for $2?” asks Smedes. “What do you take me for?” comes the indignant reply. “That’s already established,” smirks Smedes; “all that remains is to nail down your price.” Smedes then offers him a bribe of $35,000; unwilling to break with the fine old traditions of Bay State politics, Curley accepts. Smedes then spends a sleepless night wondering whether he could have bought Curley for $20,000.

Now suppose we assume that Curley was free with respect to the action of taking the bribe—free to take it and free to refuse. And suppose, furthermore, that he would have taken it. That is, let us suppose that

(31) If Smedes had offered Curley a bribe of $20,000, he would have accepted it.

If (31) is true, then there is a state of affairs S´ that (1) includes Curley’s being offered a bribe of $20,000; (2) does not include either his accepting the bribe or his rejecting it; and (3) is otherwise as much as possible like the actual world. Just to make sure S´ includes every relevant circumstance, let us suppose that it is a maximal world segment. That is, add to S´ any state of affairs compatible with but not included in it, and the result will be an entire possible world. We could think of it roughly like this: S´ is included in at least one world W in which Curley takes the bribe and in at least one world W´ in which he rejects it. If S´ is a maximal world segment, then S´ is what remains of W when Curley’s taking the bribe is deleted; it is also what remains of W´ when Curley’s rejecting the bribe is deleted. More exactly, if S´ is a maximal world segment, then every possible state of affairs that includes S´, but isn’t included by S´, is a possible world. So if (31) is true, then there is a maximal world segment S´ that (1) includes Curley’s being offered a bribe of $20,000; (2) does not include either his accepting the bribe or his rejecting it; (3) is otherwise as much as possible like the actual world—in particular, it includes Curley’s being free with respect to the bribe; and (4) is such that if it were actual then Curley would have taken the bribe. That is,

(32) If S´ were actual, Curley would have accepted the bribe

is true.

Now, of course, there is at least one possible world W´ in which S´ is actual and Curley does not take the bribe. But God could not have created W´; to do so, He would have been obliged to actualize S´, leaving Curley free with respect to the action of taking the bribe. But under these conditions Curley, as (32) assures us, would have accepted the bribe, so that the world thus created would not have been S´.

Curley, as we see, is not above a bit of Watergating. But there may be worse to come. Of course, there are possible worlds in which he is significantly free (i.e., free with respect to a morally significant action) and never does what is wrong. But the sad truth about Curley may be this. Consider W´, any of these worlds: in W´ Curley is significantly free, so in W´ there are some actions that are morally significant for him and with respect to which he is free. But at least one of these actions—call it A—has the following peculiar property. There is a maximal world segment S´ that obtains in W´ and is such that (1) S´ includes Curley’s being free re A but neither his performing A nor his refraining from A; (2) S´ is otherwise as much as possible like W´; and (3) if S´ had been actual, Curley would have gone wrong with respect to A. (Notice that this third condition holds in fact, in the actual world; it does not hold in that world W´.)

This means, of course, that God could not have actualized W´. For to do so He’d have been obliged to bring it about that S´ is actual; but then Curley would go wrong with respect to A. Since in W´ he always does what is right, the world thus actualized would not be W´. On the other hand, if God causes Curley to go right with respect to A or brings it about that he does so, then Curley isn’t free with respect to A; and so once more it isn’t W´ that is actual. Accordingly God cannot create W´ But W´ was just any of the worlds in which Curley is significantly free but always does only what is right. It therefore follows that it was not within God’s power to create a world in which Curley produces moral good but no moral evil. Every world God can actualize is such that if Curley is significantly free in it, he takes at least one wrong action.

Obviously Curley is in serious trouble. I shall call the malady from which he suffers transworld depravity. (I leave as homework the problem of comparing transworld depravity with what Calvinists call “total depravity.”) By way of explicit definition:

(33) A person P suffers from transworld depravity if and only if the following holds: for every world W such that P is significantly free in W and P does only what is right in W, there is an action A and a maximal world segment S´ such that

(1) S´ includes A’s being morally significant for P

(2) S´ includes P’s being free with respect to A

(3) S´ is included in W and includes neither P’s performing A nor P’s refraining from performing A

and

(4) If S´ were actual, P would go wrong with respect to A.

(In thinking about this definition, remember that (4) is to be true in fact, in the actual world—not in that world W.)

What is important about the idea of transworld depravity is that if a person suffers from it, then it wasn’t within God’s power to actualize any world in which that person is significantly free but does no wrong—that is, a world in which he produces moral good but no moral evil.

We have been considering a crucial contention of the Free Will Defender: the contention, namely, that

(30) God is omnipotent, and it was not within His power to create a world containing moral good but no moral evil.

How is transworld depravity relevant to this? As follows. Obviously it is possible that there be persons who suffer from transworld depravity. More generally, it is possible that everybody suffers from it. And if this possibility were actual, then God, though omnipotent, could not have created any of the possible worlds containing just the persons who do in fact exist, and containing moral good but no moral evil. For to do so He’d have to create persons who were significantly free (otherwise there would be no moral good) but suffered from transworld depravity. Such persons go wrong with respect to at least one action in any world God could have actualized and in which they are free with respect to morally significant actions; so the price for creating a world in which they produce moral good is creating one in which they also produce moral evil.

Alvin Plantinga, “A Free Will Defense,” in Christian Apologetics: An Anthology of Primary Sources, ed. Khaldoun A. Sweis and Chad V. Meister (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2012), 422–432.