Several years ago I was introduced to a clever and fascinating argument, developed by a philosopher named Emanuel Rutten, which attempts to demonstrate the existence of God from two key premises: (i) that anything which is possibly true is possibly known, and (ii) that it is not possible to know that God does not exist, from which it logically follows that (iii) God exists. The argument has some intuitive appeal to me, though I was initially skeptical about the second premise (skeptical, that is, that the atheist could be persuaded to accept the second premise). I had also heard certain criticisms of the argument which seemed to present nearly insuperable objections to it; although I started working on responses to those objections, I eventually moved on to other philosophical inquiries leaving this argument (and my many notes on it) to gather proverbial dust on my old hard drive. Recently, however, I decided to revisit the argument and use a variation on it in the context of a semi-formal online debate. I was shocked by my interlocutor’s reaction; although he had not been shy about sinking his teeth into every other argument I had presented for theism (from the cosmological argument from contingency, to the transcendental argument from the laws of logic, to a version of the moral argument, to the modal-ontological argument), I received radio-silence when presenting this argument. After several days of him reflecting upon the argument, he eventually rejoined by saying that he couldn’t think of a single criticism, but that he was convinced the argument was bad for some reason he was unable to articulate. This made me want to revisit the modal-epistemic argument for God’s existence and see if it couldn’t be salvaged in light of certain criticisms of which I am aware.
The basic intuition behind Rutten’s argument is that reality’s being intelligible is somehow connected to, and explained by, the existence of a God-like being. This same intuition seems to lurk behind Bernard Lonergan’s argument for God in the nineteenth chapter of his magnum opus, Insight, where he made the tantalizing claim (for which he argued at great length) that “if the real is completely intelligible, God exists. But the real is completely intelligible. Therefore, God exists.” There is also a subliminal connection here, I think, even to C.S. Lewis’ argument from reason. The same intuition is also bolstered, to some extent, by Fitch’s paradox, which is a logical proof developed by the philosopher and logician Frederic Fitch in 1963. Fitch was able to prove, using prima facie uncontroversial assumptions, that “necessarily, if all truths are knowable in principle then all truths are in fact known.” This philosophical finding was taken to be paradoxical by many, but it sits exceptionally well with the theist who affirms that omniscience is exemplified by God. What these observations show, I think, is that the intuition behind Rutten’s argument is widely shared (at least among theists) and may be well motivated.
The bare-boned sketch of Rutten’s argument can be outlined as follows:
- All possible truths are possibly known (i.e., if there are logically possible worlds in which P is true, then there will always be a subset of such worlds in which P is known).
- It is impossible to know that God does not exist.
- Therefore, God necessarily exists.
It has to be said straight-away that this is an over-simplified formulation of his argument; we will come, in due course, to his more measured articulation of the argument, but the rough sketch provided by this syllogism will help us lay the groundwork for the actual argument.
Rutten stipulates the following relatively modest definition of God, for the purposes of his argument; God is the personal first-cause of the world (where the world is the whole of contingent reality). Since that logically implies that God is incontingent, I will abbreviate this as ‘IPFC.’ He also specifies that, for the purposes of the argument, he means the following by knowledge: “A conscious being… knows that proposition p is true if and only if p is true and the being, given its cognitive situation, cannot psychologically but believe that p is true.” More precisely, for any P, if some conscious being B cannot psychologically help believing that P is true, then P satisfies at least one of the following four conditions for B: “(i) The proposition is logically proven; (ii) the proposition is obviously true, i.e. intuitively self-evident; (iii) the proposition is grounded in indisputable experience; or (iv) the proposition is based on indisputable testimony.” This makes it obvious that Rutten means that something is known if and only if (a) it is true, and (b) given some conscious being’s cognitive situation, that being, whose cognitive faculties aren’t malfunctioning, cannot psychologically help believing that it is true. In what follows I will refer to this peculiar kind of knowledge as knowledge*, instances of knowing satisfying these conditions as knowing*, et cetera.
The first premise seems to flow directly out of the perennial philosophical commitment to the world’s intelligibility. Arguably, to be intelligible the world has to be the kind of thing which is knowable* in principle (if not always to us, due to some limitations of our cognitive faculties, then at least to some logically possible intellects with different cognitive faculties). This philosophical presumption has, Rutten hastens to note, “led to extraordinary discoveries” in science. In fact, it seems to be a fundamental pillar of science itself, for science is predicated on the assumption of the world’s intelligibility. The second premise also seems prima facie plausible; it is, somewhat ironically, appealed to confidently by many agnostics and some atheists.
The argument is, in its rough form, susceptible to a myriad of informative objections. Consider, for instance, the possibly true proposition: “God understands my reasons for being an atheist.” The proposition, although plausibly possibly true, is not knowable – for knowledge requires belief, but no atheist can believe the proposition. Similarly the proposition “there are no conscious beings” may be possibly true but is also not rationally believable. To avoid these kinds of counter-examples Rutten stipulates that his first premise should only quantify over rationally believable propositions. He thinks it is reasonable to exclude rationally unbelievable propositions, and that this way of restricting his first premise is not ad hoc, for it seems intuitively plausible that all rationally believable possible truths are knowable. Requiring the propositions of the relevant sort to be both (possibly) true and rationally believable navigates the argument away from obvious counter-examples. There are other counter-examples, however, and Rutten discusses some. First, consider a proposition like “‘John left Amsterdam and nobody knows it.’” This seems possibly true and obviously unknowable, even though it could be argued to be rationally believable. To deal with objections like this Rutten introduces a distinction between first-order propositions and second-order propositions; first-order propositions, he says, are directly about the world, whereas second-order propositions are about people’s beliefs about the world. Rutten then decides to limit the first premise of his argument to truths expressed by first-order propositions. In this way he blocks cute objections from propositions like ‘there are no believed propositions.’
Then he states his argument more formally in the following way (I have changed the wording very little, and added nothing of consequence):
1. If a rationally believable first order proposition is possibly true, then it is knowable* (first premise),
2. The proposition ‘IPFC does not exist’ is unknowable* (second premise),
3. The proposition ‘IPFC does not exist’ is rationally believable (third premise) ,
4. The proposition ‘IPFC does not exist’ is first order (fourth premise),
5. The proposition ‘IPFC does not exist’ is not possibly true (from 1, 2, 3 and 4),
6. The proposition ‘IPFC does not exist’ is necessarily false (from 5),
7. The proposition ‘IPFC exists’ is necessarily true (conclusion, from 6).
The third premise is either true, or else atheism is irrational. The fourth premise is self-evidently true. The fifth premise follows logically from 1,2,3 and 4. Six follows logically from five. Seven follows logically from six. So the key premises are 1 and 2. The first premise is very plausible insofar as its negation would imply that reality is not intelligible, but to deny that reality is intelligible seems absurd. That reality is intelligible (if not to us then at least in principle) seems to be a fundamental commitment of epistemology. However, if reality is intelligible, then for any first-order rationally believable proposition P, if P is possible then P is possibly known*. Can we know this premise in the strong sense of knowledge used within the argument? Maybe (e.g., perhaps it is obviously true, i.e. intuitively self-evident), but that’s also irrelevant; all we need is to ‘know’ it in the more general sense (i.e., having a true justified belief – allowing for whatever epistemology you’d like to use in order to qualify ‘justified’) in order to know (as opposed to know*) that the conclusion is true.
The second premise is plausible given that, for the purposes of the argument, ‘knowledge’ is defined as satisfied just in case at least one of the four stipulated conditions are satisfied. However, God’s non-existence cannot be logically proven (if it can, then obviously this and all other arguments for God’s existence are worthless). On atheism, the proposition that God does not exist is not self-evidently true. On atheism, the proposition ‘God does not exist’ cannot be grounded in indisputable experience. On atheism, the proposition ‘God does not exist’ cannot be believed on the basis of indisputable testimony. It follows that the second premise is true. So, the argument looks sound, at least at first blush.
One immediate reaction to this argument is to suggest that it can be parodied by a parallel argument for atheism by substituting the second premise for: 2.* The proposition “God exists” is unknowable*. However, this is naïve; in at least one possible world in which God exists, plausibly God knows* that the IPFC (i.e., himself) exists, but in no possible world where no IPFC exists can anyone know* that no IPFC exists. As Rutten explains:“on the specific notion of knowledge used for the argument… logical proof, intuition, experience and testimony exhaust the range of knowledge sources, and none of them suffices to know that God does not exist.”
Years ago now I heard one very interesting objection which I will try to reproduce as fairly as my memory and skill will allow. The objection basically maintains that if God could know* that the IPFC (i.e., God) exists, then it is possible for at least one atheist in at least one logically possible world to know* that the IPFC does not exist. Rutten suggests, in the paper, that “God’s knowledge that he is God – if possible – is an instance of (iii) (or (ii)),” meaning that it is either “obviously true, i.e. intuitively self-evident; [or]… grounded in indisputable experience.” But what experience could possibly establish the indubitability of being the IPFC? For any experience you can imagine having (if you were God), it seems logically possible that it is the result of an even greater being who created you with the purpose of deceiving you into thinking that you are the IPFC. What about intuitive self-evidence? Well, if it is possible for God to simply look inward and, through introspection, discover his relations (for, to be the IPFC is to bear certain relational properties, such as that of being first-cause), then why can’t there be a logically possible world in which an atheist introspects and discovers that she lacks any relation to an IPFC? If it is logically possible for the IPFC to introspectively survey its own relational properties, then why can’t a logically possible atheist do the same?
I think the best answer to this is to note that it may be possible to introspectively discover at least some of one’s essential properties (as opposed to merely accidental properties). I can know, by rational reflection, that I exist (cogito ergo sum), that I am a thinking thing, that I am either contingent or not omniscient, et cetera. I can also deduce from what I discover as self-evident through introspection that other facts happen to be true, such as that there exists something rather than nothing. So, coming back to God, perhaps God can know by introspection that he is incontingent, personal, and has some uniqualizing properties (that is, properties which, if had at all, are had by no more than one thing) etc. – and perhaps that means that he can deduce that he is the only being which could be an IPFC in principle, and that he is an IPFC just in case a contingent world exists. But, he could plausibly know* from indisputable experience (of some sort) that a contingent world exists. Therefore, he could deduce and know* that he is the IPFC. If atheism were true, no being would have, as an essential property, a lack of any relation to an IPFC. Lacking a relation cannot be an essential property, so there’s no reason to think it could be introspectively discovered that one lacks a relational property to the IPFC. Moreover, unless the atheist can actually produce (perhaps with the aid of premises introspectively discovered as self-evident) a logical proof that the IPFC does not exist it seems they cannot know* that no IPFC exists. So while this objection is extremely interesting, I do think that it fails; it is reasonable to maintain that, possibly, God knows* that the IPFC exists, and it does not plausibly follow that an atheist possibly knows* that no IPFC exists.
Another objection might come from considering large facts. Take, for instance, what Pruss has called the Big Conjunctive Contingent Fact (BCCF), and let’s take the sub-set of that fact which includes only first-order, rationally affirmable facts (for simplicity, I will abbreviate this as the BCCF*). The BCCF* is plausibly comprised of infinitely many conjuncts, and at least is possibly comprised of infinitely many conjuncts. Is this possible truth, the BCCF*, possibly known? I think it is possible so long as there is possibly a being with an infinite capacity for knowledge (or else, perhaps, an actually infinite number of beings with some finite capacity for knowledge not all of which are such that a discrete set of first-order rationally affirmable truths would have been beyond its ken). But, assuming there cannot be an actually infinite number of beings, doesn’t that presuppose something like theism, by presupposing the possible exemplification of omniscience (here we assume that BCCF*⊃BCCF, and that any being which knows the BCCF* also knows all analytic truths)? After all, the Bekenstein bound is generally taken to imply “that a Turing Machine with finite physical dimensions and unbounded memory is not physically possible.” However, it seems senseless to suggest that there could be a physical object (like a brain, or some other kind of computer) which is actually infinitely large. Therefore, doesn’t the first premise presuppose something like theism insofar as it presupposes the exemplifiability of omniscience or at least an intellect with an actually infinite capacity for knowledge? That would make the argument ostensibly circular.
First, the IPFC needn’t be omniscient even if it knew the BCCF*. Second, and more importantly, the IPFC isn’t being presupposed to be omniscient, or even knowledgeable enough to know the BCCF*. Third, a being’s being omniscient is necessary but insufficient for the truth of theism. Fourth, I’m not sure whether it is senseless to talk about infinitely large physical objects, or (actually) infinitely many beings, but I am relatively sure that most atheists have a vested interest in allowing for those kinds of possibilities in order to avoid conceding important premises in some (Kalaam) cosmological arguments. So this attempted charge of subtle circularity seems wrong.
[I should grant this this last objection could be accused of being a straw man erected by none other than myself; to that I just briefly want to say that I had originally thought that there may be an objection here, but as I tried to write the objection down clearly it seemed to crumble in my hands. Having already written it out, and having found it interesting to reflect upon it whether or not it is a viable objection at all, I decided to keep it in this final draft.]
I’m sure there are other possible objections which I would have been better able to iterate or anticipate had I done so years ago when this argument, and some objections to it, were still fresh in my mind. However, my sense is that that will do for an introduction to the argument. What makes this argument really exciting, I think, is that it, as Rutten notes, “does not fall within one of the traditional categories of arguments for the existence of God. For it is not ontological, cosmological or teleological. And it is not phenomenological either, such as for example the aesthetic or moral argument[s] for God’s existence.” The argument, whether sound or unsound, is doing something genuinely novel, at least for the analytic tradition of the philosophy of religion.
Rutten ends his short paper on an optimistic note which may be appropriately appended here, and this is where I will end my short excursus:
“As I mentioned in the introduction, I propose to refer to the argument as a modal-epistemic argument. Ways to further improve it may be found, just as has been done with arguments in the other categories. I believe that if this happens, the prospects for the argument are rather promising.”