Assessing the Kalam Cosmological Argument, Part I

*Introductory note: This is a new series exploring and assessing the Kalam Cosmological Argument. I am a theist, but am currently unsure of where I stand in relation to this particular argument, i.e. I’m not yet sure whether I think it is successful or not. This provides me the opportunity to approach the argument from a somewhat neutral and distanced perspective. I’m not committed to defending or rejecting the argument. Here, all I want to do is think about and discuss it. 

For the most part, the Kalam Cosmological Argument currently reigns as the most popularly defended and discussed argument for the existence of God. Mainstream apologetics circles are especially obsessed with it, but quite a decent amount of attention has been given to it within the realm of academic philosophy of religion as well. Historically, however, this has not always been the case; and indeed for many centuries the Kalam was perhaps seen as the “odd man out” when it came to cosmological arguments generally. As philosopher Edward Feser notes, “Most versions of the cosmological argument . . . are not concerned with trying to show that the universe had a beginning” [1]. For the Kalam, on the other hand, showing the universe to have had a beginning is precisely what it is concerned with. The Kalam thus occupies a unique position in all natural theology.

So why its contemporary prominence over and above the vast plethora of other cosmological arguments (and natural theology arguments broadly)? This prominence is to such an extent that many people are content to refer to it as the cosmological argument, as if there were indeed no others at all. I think there are a number of reasons for this, a few of which I shall briefly explore here.

First, the argument by its very nature strikes at something very human in us, something deep and even primal in our own self-awareness. The question “where did we come from?” is one of the most fundamental and most profound questions that we can ask, and to some extent it drives both our broader intellectual inquiry and our own personal existential journeys. Of course, this question is not one that is asked solely by the Kalam, but the Kalam presents it somewhat more explicitly than other cosmological arguments. Aquinas’s First Way, for instance, asks why we live in a universe that is full of motion and change; Leibniz’s Contingency Argument asks why we live in a universe replete with contingent, finite things; but the Kalam on its very surface gets to the universe as a whole, and addresses a question which has been the subject of discussion and contemplation amongst philosophers, scientists, theologians, story-tellers, myth-makers, and individuals for thousands of years: is the universe eternal, or did it have a beginning? The Kalam, I think, thus naturally resonates with people. As Aristotle wrote in the Metaphysics,

“For it is owing to their wonder that men both now begin and at first began to philosophize; they wondered originally at the obvious difficulties, then advanced little by little and stated difficulties about the greater matters, e. g. about the phenomena of the moon and those of the sun and of the stars, and about the genesis of the universe” [2].

In other words, our very desire to know and think and “philosophize” is inspired ultimately by wonder — wonder at our own existence, at our own self-awareness, at nature and its order and splendor and beauty, at the vastness of the universe, etc. St. Gregory of Nyssa would later capture this pure human sentiment in his succinct statement: “Only wonder understands anything”. And part of trying to come to understand anything, but especially ourselves and our relation to the universe, is asking of its origin. It is no surprise, then, that much of our most ancient literature consists of creation myths. Aristotle continued: “Even the lover of myth is in a sense a lover of Wisdom, for the myth is composed of wonders” [3]. In other words, the project of the philosophers had been carried out long before in the project of the poets and storytellers. The central question of the Kalam, then, is a question deeply ingrained in the human psyche; and it thus makes sense that in an age when philosophy can be so widely disseminated to the masses it would be this particular argument which has found so much popular interest.

Secondly, the argument naturally lends itself to modern scientific investigation in a way that other cosmological arguments do not (or at least have not). Indeed, this is precisely one of Edward Feser’s strongest criticisms of certain naive presentations of the Kalam: in his paper “Natural Theology Must Be Grounded in the Philosophy of Nature, Not in Natural Science”, he argues that “natural theology cannot properly be grounded in sciences like physics, chemistry, or biology, as these are typically understood today. Rather, it must be grounded in the more fundamental discipline which studies the metaphysical preconditions of any possible physics, chemistry, or biology” because “we are not going to be able to successfully reason from the world to God unless we can deal with the most basic philosophical questions about the nature of change, causation, material substance, and the like”, and indeed he actually “[denies] that arguments grounded in natural science alone can [even] get you to classical theism” [4]. Now, anyone very familiar with defenses of the Kalam might immediately point out that it is not “grounded in natural science alone”, but rather for most of its history was defended using the very metaphysical methods Feser prescribes here; and even William Lane Craig, the primary advocate for the Kalam in recent years, has insisted in a few places that what he refers to as the “philosophical arguments” in defense of the Kalam must be taken as more fundamental to its success than the scientific/empirical evidence. Despite this, the very reason for the Kalam’s reemergence in the twentieth century was arguably a direct result of developments in scientific cosmology, specifically “Big Bang” cosmology beginning in the early twentieth century. These developments seemed to indicate that the physical universe was not eternal but had a beginning (whether it actually indicated such we will be exploring throughout this series). Even though Big Bang cosmology has received some backlash from religious groups (I’m thinking especially of “young earth creationist” types), its potential supernatural implications were almost immediately recognized [5]. Philosopher William Lane Craig has been at the forefront of the revitalization of the Kalam, and a huge amount of his work in its defense is focused on the physical-cosmological aspect.

And we are a scientifically obsessed culture, so much so that the statement “X is a scientifically proven fact” has become a de facto conversation stopper. As Craig notes, many people today “find philosophical arguments dubious or difficult to follow; they prefer empirical evidence” [6]. As such, those who are so scientifically inclined are more likely to be interested in arguments which make use of scientific material. Or, to put it bluntly, our culture is very much more likely to take an argument that appeals to “scientific evidence” seriously than one which just relies on strict metaphysical proof. Hence, insofar as the Kalam lends itself to scientific investigation in ways other arguments from natural theology do not, the Kalam also lends itself to increased modern interest and attention.

Lastly, the Kalam’s contemporary prominence seems to be due in large part to its excessive use in popular apologetics. It would not be much of an overstatement to say that the rise of contemporary popular apologetics rallied around the Kalam as its standard-bearer. In the early parts of the twentieth century, theologically conservative Christianity in the West largely retreated into a defensive isolationism that was often characterized by, to a degree, anti-intellectualism, or at least a general distrust and avoidance of what it saw as hopelessly liberal academia [7]. Starting after the end of World War II, however, conservative Christianity began to awake from its hibernation and reemerge from its isolationism to reengage both culturally and intellectually. And a significant aspect of this was a new manifestation of an ancient Christian tradition: apologetics. The most recent wave of apologetics has in many ways been essentially aimed as a response to the “new atheism” which stormed popular culture and media after Nine-Eleven, with Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens, Sam Harris et al. at the helm. One of the major driving forces behind the “new atheism” was the claim that science and religion are in principle at odds and in competition with each other; and so one of the central tasks of the corresponding “new apologetics” was to bridge the apparent gap between science and religion. And the Kalam (along with other arguments such as Fine Tuning) served as exactly this bridge. What better way to demonstrate that science and religion are “compatible” than showing that modern science actually “proves” the existence of God? Wielding the results of modern cosmology, the new apologetics saw as its task nothing less than the complete rebuilding of Christianity as a formidable intellectual opponent in the West to the perception of outside laypeople.

Of course, this all may be an overly simplistic analysis; and in reality there was most likely much more going on. My point is simply that the Kalam’s contemporary prominence in part has been inseparably tied to its use in popular apologetics. Another reason for its favorability among popular apologetics is its relative simplicity. In its most frequent formulation, the Kalam consists of three basic premises which are concise, easy to comprehend, and contain an intuitive appeal. It does not take a course in advanced metaphysics to understand what the argument is claiming. The problem, however, as we’ll consider throughout this series, is that the relative simplicity of the Kalam’s premises has sometimes resulted in an overly simplistic and even shallow understanding of the arguments behind those premises. I will be attempting to avoid this mistake in this series.

So, now that we’ve considered these general points about the Kalam’s current status, we can turn to examine the argument itself, and then begin a historical overview of its formation and defense. The most common and basic version of the argument is that which appears in much of William Lane Craig’s work:

  1. Whatever begins to exist has a cause
  2. The universe began to exist
  3. Therefore, the universe has a cause

This is the formulation that appears in Craig’s landmark 1979 book The Kalam Cosmological Argument which played an extremely significant role in the reintroduction and reinvigorated interest in the Kalam as a serious argument. (Indeed, we might see in this book the implicit seeds of the now widespread, flagrant, and deeply erroneous contention that the Kalam is “the cosmological argument”, for in the book Craig suggests that the Kalam is “the cosmological argument which is most likely to be a sound and persuasive proof for the existence of God” [8]. Of course, I’m certainly not suggesting that Craig himself is responsible for this mistake; in fact Craig has an entire book that extensively explores the different historical versions of cosmological arguments. But before Craig’s new and outspoken defense of the Kalam, cosmological arguments in general had mostly gone out of favor in philosophical circles; and after his reintroduction of the Kalam, discussion of cosmological arguments was focused overwhelmingly on the Kalam itself, such that, from the outside, it came to appear almost as if the Kalam just was the cosmological argument.But this point is slightly off topic, and made simply because I have personal interest and investment in other cosmological arguments.)

Interestingly, all three premises of the Kalam are found almost verbatim in Plato’s Timaeus, although, as we’ll see, they are to a much different effect. In the dialogue, the character Timaeus, giving an account of the history and nature of the universe, states:

“Now everything that comes to be must of necessity come to be by the agency of some cause, for it is impossible for anything to come to be without a cause . . . Now as to the whole universe or world order [kosmos] . . . there is a question we need to consider first. This is the sort of question one should begin with in inquiring into any subject. Has it always existed? Was there no origin from which it came to be? Or did it come to be and take its start from some origin? It has come to be.” [9].

Plato’s reasoning for concluding that the world must have come to be has to do with his overall metaphysical system, which would take much more space than is available here to explore in any depth. Basically, Plato separated reality into at least two distinct categories: “What is that which always is and has no becoming, and what is that which becomes but never is” [10], or, more succinctly, “being” as opposed to “becoming”. What falls into the former category are things such as the eternal and immutable forms or Ideas, which are “grasped by understanding” and the intellect; and what falls into the latter category includes all physical, material objects that we know only through “sense perception”, which he saw as a much inferior and more unstable source of knowledge. All objects that we grasp through sense perception, Plato argued, are less real than the eternal Forms. They are inherently finite and ever-changing: “It comes to be and passes away but never really is” [11]. But the universe is precisely one of those things, Plato then observed:

“For it is both visible and tangible and it has a body — and all things of that kind are perceptible. And, as we have shown, perceptible things are grasped by opinion, which involves sense perception. As such, they are things that come to be, things that are begotten” [12].

And so, since “necessarily, that which comes to be must come to be by the agency of some cause” [13], Plato concluded that our physical universe must have a cause, a divine “craftsman” [14], a “maker and father of this universe” [15]. Which is, of course, what the Kalam itself is likewise intended to establish. The problem, however, is that Plato did not see this argument as showing that there is a God who “created” the entire universe in the same sense that the God of Classical Theism and major monotheistic religions is believed to have. The God of Classical Theism (the God of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam), has traditionally been held to have created all things other than Himself, by His own power, absolutely ex nihilo. The “craftsman” or demiurge of Timaeus, on the other hand, really only fashions/orders/informs pre-existing matter. In other words, the matter itself, the material stuff out of which the universe is made, already existed on its own, and the demiurge merely gave order and form to it, modeling it after the eternal realm of the forms itself. And so Plato writes that the demiurge “took over all that was visible — not at rest but in discordant and disorderly motion — and brought it from a state of disorder to one of order” [16]. So the divine craftsman did not create matter itself, nor did he create the eternal forms, since these by definition are unbegotten. Indeed it is unclear what exactly the status of the demiurge is within the eternal realm. In any case, what is clear is that while although Plato thought the fact of the universe’s having a “becoming” required an efficient cause, he also thought that it required a separate material cause out of which the efficient cause crafted the physical cosmos. In fact, foreshadowing Aristotle’s famous “four causes”, Plato wrote that our universe must have had three separate causes: an efficient, a material, and a formal (or “that after which the thing coming to be is modeled” [17]).

So, although Plato certainly saw theistic implications to be derived from the “becomingness” of the universe, the type of theism he arrived at thereby is not quite what typical defenders of the Kalam are aiming for. Nevertheless, we find in Plato the foundation of future cosmological arguments, including the Kalam.

In the next post in the series, we will continue to trace the historical development of the Kalam, eventually reaching contemporary discussions of it. Again, I should point out that while I myself am a theist, I am not sure I accept the Kalam as a sound argument, and am not here trying either to defend or refute it. Rather I am trying to think it through, specifically from a Thomistic perspective. So, to those interested, I invite you to follow along.

(For those who do not already, I also shamelessly invite you to literally “follow” this blog, either through wordpress or email. That way you’ll be notified when the new posts in this series are published. And also it’ll make me feel good. Thanks :).



[1]. Feser, Edward. “A Difficulty for Craig’s Kalām Cosmological Argument?” Edward Feser, Blogger, 2 Sept. 2016, 

[2]. McKeon, Richard, editor. The Basic Works of Aristotle. New York: Random House, Inc, 1941. Print. Metaphysics 1.2, 982b12-17.

[3]. Ibid. 1.2, 982b18-19.

[4]. Feser, Edward. “Natural Theology Must Be Grounded in the Philosophy of Nature, Not in natural Science” in Neo-Scholastic Essays. South Bend: St. Augustine’s Press, 2015. Print, 61-62.

To be fair, I don’t think Feser intended this paper as a critique of the Kalam specifically. In fact, within the paper he concedes that the Kalam actually shows that natural theology can, to an extent, draw from and make use of natural science. His point is rather that natural theology cannot primarily depend upon natural science, in the way that the Kalam often does. So my own critique here is not that the Kalam lends itself to scientific investigation, but that too often defenses of the Kalam depend almost entirely on conclusions taken from natural science.

[5]. See, for instance, this quote from Sir Arthur Eddington: “The beginning seems to present insuperable difficulties unless we agree to look on it as frankly supernatural”. Quoted in Craig, William Lane. Reasonable Faith: Christian Truth and Apologetics. 1984. 3rd. ed.,Wheaton: Crossway, 2008. Print, 128.

[6]. Ibid. 125.

Notice here that Craig is actually implicitly bolstering a position of scientism: he makes a dichotomy between “philosophical argument” and “empirical evidence” as if the latter were purely in the domain of the physical sciences and could never be treated or meaningfully spoken of by the former. This is mistaken.

[7]. For more on this phenomenon, see Wolterstorff, Nicholas. “The Mission of the Christian College at the End of the 20th Century.” The Reformed Journal 33, no. 6 (June 1983): 14-18. Also found in Wolterstorff, Nicholas. Educating for Shalom: Essays on Christian Higher Education. Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2004.

[8]. Craig, William Lane. The Kalam Cosmological Argument. Eugene: Wipf and Stock Publishers, 1979. ebook version accessed via Google Books. 63.

[9]. Plato. “Timaeus” in Plato: Complete Works. Edited by John M. Cooper. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 1997. 28a-b.

[10]. Ibid. 27d-28a.

[11]. Ibid. 28a.

[12]. Ibid. 28b-c.

[13]. Ibid. 28c.

[14]. Ibid. 28a.

[15]. Ibid. 28c.

[16]. Ibid. 30a.

[17]. Ibid. 50d.

Header image: By NASA/ESA [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.


Reading Aristotle: Physics 2.2: Physics, Math, and Metaphysics

*Note: Instead of giving line by line commentary as I normally do, for at least the first part of this chapter I’m just going to be giving commentary on the main points with a few quotes added throughout. This is because I think there’s less in the first part that needs to be worked out in detail.

In the first chapter of Book Two of the Physics, Aristotle distinguished between natural and artificial things, where to be “natural” is to have an intrinsic nature; he then argued that things do in fact have such intrinsic natures, and that the nature of a thing is related primarily to its form. The second chapter begins with a discussion on the difference between physics as a science and mathematics as a science. Since physics is the science that studies nature, having in chapter one established what nature is, it makes sense for Aristotle now to consider how physics studies nature in relation to other sciences. Continue reading

Sens Homines Facebook Page

I got my wisdom teeth taken out today. Much fun. So no new post.

I do, however, have an update: I’ve decided to make a Sens Homines Facebook page. It’s quite small at the moment, but if you’re on Facebook you can like it here: There’s also a link to it on the righthand side of this page.

I’m not entirely sure what its use will be yet. At the moment I’m thinking at least shorter thoughts that do not merit a full blog post, as well as quotes or other articles I find intriguing. I’m open to suggestions. If you’re interested, give it a like.

Meanwhile, I’m currently working on an article on the Kalam Cosmological Argument. Since there’s so much material on this particular argument, and since most readers are probably already at least generally familiar with it, I thought I’d give a unique approach by considering it from a historical point of view, at least at first, before getting into more contemporary discussion about it. It should be posted sometime next week.

Until then, thanks!


Reading Aquinas on Evil: Is Evil in Good? (Q. 1, Art. 2)

In the First Article of Question One of the De Malo, which we examined in the previous post of this series, Aquinas concluded that evil is not an entity, i.e. it has no positive existence of its own; rather it is a privation or perversion of some good. We turn now to the Second Article, which asks: “Is There Evil in Good?” Aquinas answers in the affirmative. Continue reading

Responding to the Cosmic Skeptic on the Ontological Argument

Alex J. O’Connor, also known as the “Cosmic Skeptic”, is a popular atheist youtuber and blogger. His content primarily consists of videos which are usually quite engaging and high in quality. He’s an excellent speaker and presenter and often has interesting takes on various philosophical and scientific topics. A few days ago, he posted a video titled “I Think, Therefore God Exists: The Ontological Argument” which responds to that infamous argument for God’s existence:

Although I am a committed theist, Mr. O’Connor should be happy to know that I happen to agree with him here: I do not think that ontological arguments are successful in establishing the existence of God. (I should also point out that there is no one ontological argument, rather there are a family of versions. O’Connor begins his video in reference to St. Anselm, whose ontological argument was the first historically, but the rest of his video doesn’t deal with St. Anselm’s argument at all; rather it focuses on William Lane Craig’s presentation of Alvin Plantinga’s much newer modal formulation of the argument). Despite the fact that I don’t think ontological arguments are successful, I’d like to respond to a few specific points within O’Connor’s video, mostly because they are relevant to theistic arguments in general other than just ontological ones. Continue reading

Beginning Metaphysics IV: Essentialism

Central to Aquinas’s whole metaphysical system, and even central to his whole project of metaphysics, is the belief that essences are real. This is known as essentialism. Modern science and philosophy, however, have come so far from the common sense position that things have essences that to even ask the question is seen as a waste of time. This post is meant as a brief introductory look at an overview of arguments that could be presented in favor of an essentialist position.

By far the greatest reason to affirm essentialism is that it is just our starting point for understanding, describing, and interacting with reality. Whether we realize it our not, we are all at least implicit essentialists: we all look at and talk about reality as if there really are things with intrinsic unity which are distinct from other things and other kinds of things. Continue reading

Reading Aristotle: Physics 2.1: What is Nature?

*Note: I said that before I began commentary on Book 2, I’d write an outline of Book 1. Unfortunately that project is taking longer than I expected. I still intend to complete it, but thought in the meantime I would go ahead and begin Book 2 anyways.

Having completed Book One of the Physics, in which Aristotle explored the fundamental principles of nature, we turn now to Book Two, which begins with asking what nature itself is:

“Of things that exist, some exist by nature, some from other causes. ‘By nature’ the animals and their parts exist, and the plants and the simple bodies (earth, fire, air, water)–for we say that these and the like exist ‘by nature’. All the things mentioned present a feature in which they differ from things which are not constituted by nature. Each of them has within itself a principle of motion and of stationariness (in respect of place, or of growth and decrease, or by way of alteration). On the other hand, a bed and a coat and anything else of that sort, qua receiving these designations — i. e. in so far as they are products of art — have no innate impulse to change. But in so far as they happen to be composed of stone or of earth or of a mixture of the two, they do have such an impulse, and just to that extent–which seems to indicate that nature is a source or cause of being moved and of being at rest in that to which it belongs primarily, in virtue of itself and not in virtue of a concomitant attribute” (Physics 2.1, 192b8-23) [1].

As Aquinas points out, Book One of the Physics was primarily directed towards the “principles of natural things”, whereas Book Two is primarily directed towards the “principles of natural science” itself (Lectio 1.141) [2]. To know the principles of any science, we must first know “its subject and the method by which it demonstrates” [3]. And the subject of natural science is, of course, nature; hence the discussion of the definition of nature. Continue reading