*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” . 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. Continue reading
Suppose you walk outside one day and suddenly come across some strange object you’ve never encountered before. You’re first thought will most likely be, “what in the world is that?” This question of what something is, as simple as it may seem, is extremely profound. For as soon as we ask what something is, as soon as we pose the question “what is it?” or “what is X”, we have embarked upon a metaphysical journey.
So what’s so special about the question of “what is it”? Suppose that, after asking the question about the strange object in front of you, a friend who’s with you responds “That is a giraffe”. Disregarding the justified curiosity concerning what in the world a giraffe is doing outside your home, we must admit that the answer given us is intelligible. Continue reading
*In light of Valentine’s Day, a third dialogue on the nature of love. The first can be read here and the second here. All characters and events are fictional, and are used to convey philosophical arguments. My own personal views are not necessarily reflected by the views of any characters or statements herein; the dialogue is just meant to work out and develop some thoughts.
Thomas: So do we now understand what love is?
Reuben: I think we have a start.
Thomas: What more would you want to say? We have agreed that love is the active will for the good of the other, and that the emotions follow the will, but that the emotions also feed the will, and the will is directed towards certain emotions.
Reuben: I agree that this is one account of love. But I wonder if it is the whole of love?
Thomas: What could there be beyond this?
Reuben: Before I answer that, I have another question.
Thomas: Ask it!
Reuben: We said much earlier that love cannot be a desire, since desire results from some need or incompleteness within ourselves, and hence to desire another must ultimately be selfish, merely wanting to use the person as a means to an end of our own emotional fulfillment.
Thomas: We did indeed say this.
Reuben: But must it be true that all desire as such results from some need or incompleteness within us? Continue reading
If one reads through the dialogues of Plato, it won’t take long to realize that he is never short of arguments for the immortality of the soul. It seems to be one of his favorite topics to write about, and apparently he held the point as of utmost significance. A few months ago, I wrote a paper for school on three of these arguments in his Phaedo. But he also writes about it in the Republic, Meno, a bit in Timaeus, and, the one we’ll be looking at in this post, Phaedrus. In general, as an Aristotelian rather than a Platonist, I don’t tend to accept many of Plato’s arguments for the immortality of the soul (although I find them fascinating and profound), especially considering that Plato held the soul to not only exist after death, but also to have pre-existed our physical birth. Plato is, in many ways, a radical dualist, holding the human soul to be the true self and the body to be merely a prison thereof. I strongly disagree. But for now, my reason for looking at one of these arguments is not to discuss immortality.
I regard Aquinas’s “Argument from Motion” or First Way as perhaps the strongest argument for the existence of God that there is. But it’s certainly not an argument that St. Thomas just drew out of thin air; it had a long history of development. For the most part, this history can be traced to Aristotle, since he first presents the argument as really intended to show that there exists some ultimate being or cause behind the universe. While Aristotle’s version is certainly the first fully drawn out and “technical-ized” form of the argument, I think its general sentiment can be found earlier, namely in Plato. Although, as we’ll see, Plato doesn’t really seem to have used the argument as pointing to some cause of motion behind the universe; but I think his presentation thereof still has some interesting implications. Continue reading
In the first post in this series on Aquinas’s Fourth Way, we compared his Argument from Degrees of Perfection to modern moral arguments, showing that the latter are based on the assumption of a “fact/value” distinction in nature, which is completely antithetical to Aquinas’s own view. In the second, we explored the classical understanding of “the good” as being based objectively in the very structure of reality itself; and then introduced the doctrine of “the Transcendentals”, which argues that there are certain transcending properties of all existing things that are over and above all categories, classes, aspects, and individuals. These are being, goodness, truth, and unity. In this post, we will present the argument itself. Continue reading
*This is the second post in a series imitating Plato’s “socratic dialogue method.” The first post can be read here. All characters and events are fictional, and are used to convey philosophical arguments.
Thomas: So we have established, based on our conversation, that love is an “active will for the good of another.” But you expressed some doubts about this?
Reuben: Yes, I am not entirely sure what it means. And I am beginning to wonder if perhaps it is not entirely true.
Thomas: Well, to see if that is so, let us retrace some of our steps.
Reuben: That would be helpful.
Thomas: You began by saying that love is a particular emotion.
Reuben: I did.
Thomas: And we agreed that absolutely love is good? Continue reading
*In this post I’m attempting to imitate the “socratic dialogue” form of writing employed by Plato. The characters and events are all fictional, but are used to convey a philosophical argument.
Thomas: Tell me, what do you think love is?
Reuben: What do you mean, what is love?
Thomas: I mean, when you say that you love something, or are in love with someone, what is it that you are referring to?
Reuben: It is interesting that you ask. How can we define something, without even knowing what it is we are trying to define? It seems that we are stuck in a loop. We do not know what love is, and we cannot learn what it is without already knowing what it is.
Thomas: Hm, that does indeed seem like a problem. Continue reading