A Critical Review of

Giberson, Karl W. Saving Darwin: How to Be a Christian and Believe in Evolution. New York: HarperOne, 2008.  USA $14.99. 

Upon reading Karl Giberson’s book, Saving Darwin, I too became a disillusioned fundamentalist—disillusioned with Giberson’s naive assumption that philosophical naturalism, upon which the neo-Darwinian synthesis is based, is somehow compatible with the Christian worldview. 

 Never mind Giberson’s nonchalant dismissal of sophisticated arguments in support of Intelligent Design with “devastating” quips like, “I don’t think they [ID theorists] have a good feel for how the historical practice of science has gradually . . .[led] practicing scientists away from such explanations.” (159)  Forget the various theological blunders littered throughout the book—such as the stunning assertion that the Christian concept of hell is a, “secondary doctrine.” (38)  All such problems, while noteworthy, pale in comparison with Giberson’s patent refusal, throughout the book, to acknowledge the inherent incompatibility of philosophical naturalism with Christianity.  

By philosophical naturalism, I mean the prevalent doctrine that the universe, as we know it, is a closed system of material causes and effects.  The idea that nothing exists beyond matter and energy; that the physical world is all there is.  This nihilistic doctrine constitutes the metaphysical foundation upon which Darwin’s theory of biological origins is predicated upon; and any attempt to detach Darwin’s brand of evolutionary theory from its naturalistic base inevitably leads one to adopt a non-Darwinian form of evolution.  

Consider, as Giberson does in his book, that Darwin’s theory is touted by its proponents as being the conclusive argument against design.  They reason, that since Darwin was able to explain the origin of the species by means of an undirected, naturalistic process, there is no longer a need to infer design or teleology in nature.  All such appearances, say the Darwinists, are merely an illusion.  Accordingly, those who posit any form of intelligent guidance or input within nature (Such as theistic evolutionists or deists) are essentially rejecting Darwin’s formulation of evolution. 

If God exists, and if he played an active role in the advent of biological life—either by guiding the evolutionary process or setting the initial conditions or laws of the universe—Darwin’s theory of unguided, naturalistic, evolution is necessarily wrong.  Under Darwin’s framework, we are merely the result of chance and necessity—random variation (genetic mutation) and natural selection.  Any worldview which claims God intended life to arise or inserted the information necessary for life to arise, or guided the evolution of life, challenges this basic claim.  

 Therefore, I find it hard to understand how Giberson believes one can claim to be a Christian and fully accept Darwin’s theory of evolution without being a complete hypocrite.  Affirming the truth of two incompatible worldviews is simply oxymoronic.  Yet, this is precisely what Giberson’s insipid book advocates. 

The dissonance in Giberson’s argument comes out clearly in chapter three, where he address’s Darwin’s “dark companions.”  In this chapter he attempts to defend Darwinism from its critics by disassociating the biological theory from its overarching metaphysical implications.  At the beginning of the chapter he states: “The connection between biological and social Darwinism is complex and troubling, and perhaps even suspicious, but there is no denying that it has always been there, even before evolutionary theory became known as “Darwinism.” (79 Emphasis mine)  Oddly, after explaining social Darwinism’s role in the development of such atrocious social projects as Eugenics and even admitting its influence on the Nazi’s, he concludes: 

Thoughtful evolutionists hasten to point out that no necessary connection exists between biological evolution, which provides descriptive explanations of how nature works, and social Darwinism, which suggests prescriptive guidelines for how society should behave.  It is far from obvious that eugenics, unbridled capitalism, relaxed attitudes about infanticide, or rampant militarism is implied by the theory that species originate through natural selection.” (80) 

I wonder if Giberson has ever considered that the reason social Darwinism has always been attached to evolutionary theory is because it is predicated upon and bolsters a view of reality which does imply eugenics, unbridled capitalism, relaxed attitudes about infanticide, and rampant militarism; namely, philosophical naturalism. 

If there is no overarching purpose or design in the universe, if God played no role in the development of human life, if nature is a closed system of causes and effects, then there are no objective moral values.  Furthermore, there is no sensible reason to believe that human life is intrinsically valuable.  It seems to me, then, that the social Darwinists are simply following the logic of philosophical naturalism to its ultimate conclusion.  They, unlike Giberson, are not being hypocrites; but advocating exactly what their metaphysics entail.  Sadly, Giberson appears to be willfully blind to these facts.  

For example, he argues in chapter six that he wishes Intelligent Design were true; in fact, he goes as far as to say that, “all Christians . . . should wish it were true.” (155)  Why, because Intelligent Design coheres nicely with the Judeo-Christian worldview–a worldview that he admits becomes extremely questionable if Darwin’s theory of evolution is true:  

I have a great appreciation for the counterarguments for God’s existence.  I understand how honest thinkers and seekers of truth like Daniel Dennett and Michael Ruse [both prominent Darwinists] can end up rejecting God.  Like that of most thinking Christians, my belief in God is tinged with doubts and, in my more reflective moments, I sometimes wonder if I am perhaps simply continuing along the trajectory of a childhood faith that should be abandoned. (155) 

Yet, in spite of the troubling fact that Darwinian evolution poses a serious threat to his faith, Giberson stubbornly refuses to acknowledge its tacit metaphysical implications.  He refuses to consider the possibility that Darwinism is built upon a worldview which is wholly incompatible with his Judeo-Christian proclivities—he is willfully blind. 

In a later chapter he laments the fact that, “virtually all the leading spokespersons for science—the ones on bookstands and public television—are strongly antireligious,” and argues against the idea that evolutionary theory has rendered religion superfluous mythology. (174)  His argument is that the silent majority of evolutionary biologists don’t think this way; that many, in fact, do believe in God.  What he fails to realize is that the silent majority of evolutionary biologists are either metaphysically confused or blatantly adhering to two contradictory views of reality.    

I submit that the only Darwinian evolutionists being consistent to their worldview are the exceedingly antireligious spokesmen like Richard Dawkins and Carol Sagan.  Darwinism is predicated upon philosophical naturalism and the views they advocate so passionately are the logical outgrowth of such a view of reality.  As such, I can see no way in which Darwin can be saved.  Contra Giberson, there is no coherent way in which one can be a Christian and fully accept Darwinian evolution.  

At the end of the day, the strongest rational Giberson has for maintaining his Christian faith, in light of Darwinian evolution, is one of pure practicality.  As he explains: 

As a purely practical matter, I have compelling reasons to believe in God.  My parents are deeply committed Christians and would be devastated, were I to reject my faith.  My wife and children believe in God, and we attend church together regularly.  Most of my friends are believers.  I have a job I love at a Christian college that would be forced to dismiss me if I were to reject the faith . . . Abandoning belief in God would be disruptive, sending my life completely off the rails. (155-156) 

Basically, the only reason he doesn’t reject the existence of God is because he would make a lot of people upset with him and would loose his job.    

While I sympathize with Giberson’s need for a job and his desire to remain in friendly fellowship with family and friends,  I think it’s time that he stop living a double life.   The idea that Christianity is compatible with a scientific theory predicated upon philosophical naturalism is nothing but rehtorical nonsense.    For this reason, I implore him to be consistent: either, Christianity is true, and Darwinian evolution is false or Darwinian evolution is true and Christianity is false.  There is no middle ground; for the truth of one means the negation of the other.

Since the rise and dominance of metaphysical naturalism in both science and philosophy, many academics have rejected the traditional Judeo-Christian understanding of the soul.  To be sure, substance dualism–the view that both immaterial and material substances exist–is not a popular position amongst contemporary philosophers of mind.  However, substance dualisms’ fall from grace is not entirely due to naturalistic philosophy.  Another reason for its failure has been its persistent association with Cartesian dualism.[1]   

            The linkage between substance dualism and Cartesian dualism in contemporary philosophy of mind is unfortunate for two reasons: (1) most philosophers believe Descartes arguments have been soundly refuted, and (2) the Cartesian form of dualism exhibits significant conceptual difficulties.  It seems, then, that it is not substance dualism, per se, that modern philosophers find repugnant, but its widespread Cartesian formulation. 

Thankfully, while Christians are committed to some form of substance dualism, they are not necessarily committed to a Cartesian view.  As Eleonore Stump explains, Cartesian dualism is hardly the only game in town for orthodox Christians: 

As a matter of historical fact . . . it is not true that a Cartesian sort of dualism has been the view traditional espoused by all major monotheisms.  Aquinas, whose views surely represent one major strand of one major monotheism, is familiar with an account very like Cartesian dualism, which he associates with Plato; and he rejects it emphatically.[2]

Unbeknownst to many, Aquinas proposed a form of substance dualism significantly different from both Plato and Descartes; one which naturalistic philosophers may find harder to refute. 

This paper will introduce Thomistic dualism, compare and contrast it with the Cartesian view, and offer several reasons why Christian philosophers should favor this form of substance dualism above the Cartesian model.  It will accomplish this by: (1) outlining Descartes understanding of the mind and the body and posing two formidable difficulties facing it, and (2) outlining Thomistic dualism and explaining how it better addresses the problems facing the Cartesian view. 

Descartes and Cartesian Dualism

  Cartesian dualism, as it is most commonly formulated, goes something like this:  the mind, being a nonphysical object, is a completely different sort of thing than the body, which is a physical object, “located in space” and comprised of, “atoms familiar to chemistry.”[3]  Unlike the body, the mind is completely immaterial, lacking an exact special location, and unable to be seen or touched.[4]  Although the mind and the body are two completely different substances, they stand in a causal relationship with one another; each having a distinctive impact on the other.

To understand this causal relationship, one can imagine the mind and body working together in a way much like a scientist controlling a space probe:

Your body is like a probe, sent by NASA to explore a distant planet.  The probe sends pictures back to mission control, where scientists decide what the probe should do next.  Instructions are sent back to the probe which responds accordingly.  The probe itself is entirely unintelligent.  Similarly, information about the world is communicated by the body to the mind; the mind decides on a course of action and communicates the decision back to the body.  The body itself makes no decisions.[5]

As it stands, the body is not autonomous; depending upon the direction of the mind to accomplish anything.

Descartes arrived at these conclusions about the nature of the mind and the brain through a prolonged introspective process which he recorded in his seminal work: Meditations on First Philosophy.  During his meditations, Descartes came to the startling conclusion that he could imagine himself without a body.[6]  Conversely, he also realized it was equally impossible for him to doubt that he had a mind: “If I try to doubt I have a mind, I will discover myself with thoughts like ‘I doubt I have a mind’, and so must admit that I have a mind—for the activity of doubting is mental.”[7]  Based upon these fundamental introspections, Descartes developed his theory of substance dualism. 

As his thinking evolved, Descartes came to the disquieting conclusion that the mind constituted the total essence of the human being.  As he explains, “I know I exist, and meanwhile notice nothing clearly to pertain to my nature or essence, except this alone, that I am a thinking thing, I rightly conclude that my whole essence consists in this one thing, that I am a thinking thing.”[8]  Descartes refusal to give the body a place in the essence of a human being was the natural outgrowth of his epistemology; namely, his near complete rejection of empiricism.  For Descartes, the senses could not be trusted, and therefore, the only true knowledge one could have about the world was that which could be arrived at by pure reason.  As a rationalist, the only aspect of his own humanity that he could be totally certain about, was the unavoidable fact that he was a “thinking thing.”[9]

       Seeing as how the mind and the body constitute two “ontologically distinct substances”, and that the, “mind alone constitutes the essence of the individual and the body in no way partakes of this essence,” Descartes concluded that the mind could exist completely independent from his body.[10]  This is made clear enough in his own words,

Because on the one hand I have a clear and distinct idea of myself, in so far as I am only a thinking thing, not extended, and on the other hand a distinct idea of body in so far as it is only an extended thing, not thinking, it is certain that I am really distinct from my body and can exist without it.[11]   

Unsurprisingly, this radical distinction between the mind and body is the source of significant challenges for Cartesian dualists.

To begin with, from a philosophical and scientific perspective, Cartesian dualists fail to provide an adequate account of the, “union of mind and body,” that is, to explain how two ontologically distinct and self-contained substances are capable of working together in a causally integrated way.  Exactly, how is it that the mind (which is immaterial) can have a direct casual affect on the brain (which is material)?  While, this objection does not constitute a defeater for Cartesian dualism, it does constitute a significant conceptual hurtle; one which is responsible for it’s rejection by contemporary philosophers.

Secondly, from a theological and anthropological perspective, Cartesian dualism fails to account for the importance or value of the physical body.  Why is it, that God embodied our souls in the physical realm at all?  Why is it that God insists on resurrecting our bodies in the last days?  Why did God come down as the incarnate word of God—as the physical man Jesus Christ?  Furthermore, why is it wrong, morally, to harm or disparage the human body?  These, and other questions, are exceedingly difficult to answer under the Cartesian model.

It is for this reason that the author recommends the following Thomistic form of substance dualism. 

Aquinas and Thomistic Dualism

        In order to understand Aquinas’ view of the soul, one must first have a basic grasp of Medieval metaphysics.[12]  Like Aristotle, Aquinas and other scholastic philosophers distinguished between two basic dimensions of physical entities: matter and form.[13]  To understand Aquinas’ distinction between matter and form, one must strip away any modern conceptions of matter they might have. 

To begin with, one should not think of matter in a physical sense; that is, “as an independently existing raw material yet to be formed.”[14]  Rather, one must think of matter in terms of “potentiality”; as Aquinas explains, “Matter is that which is not as such a ‘particular thing,’ but is in mere potency to become a ‘particular’ thing.”[15]  In other words, matter (or ‘prime matter’ as Aquinas termed it) on its own has no existence; it simply has the potential of being actualized into an existent entity.[16]  In this sense, prime matter is, “that which is common to all material things and which is formed into different entities by the second element—the substantial form.”[17]

This leads naturally into the second dimension of all physical entities: the substantial form.  The substantial form is the, “inherent principle which makes the existent entity [a physical object] what it is.”[18]  Or, put another way, the substantial form constitutes the essence of and actualization of a physical entity.  One could very well imagine the substantial form as being the “information”, “blue-print”, or “code” underlining all reality and bringing physical existence into being.  

    When combined with prime matter, the substantial form “becomes the existent [individual] entity,” or substance.[19]  Hence, the substantial form acts as the grounding of all physical being; and as such, any physical thing that exists, or has being, has form.  This basic metaphysical truth can be most easily remembered in Aquinas’ famous dictum:  “form gives existence to matter.”[20]

Seeing as how form is the essence of all existing entities, and provides grounding of being, it follows that physical entities are not the only objects which have form.  According to Aquinas, immaterial entities (such as God or Angels) do as well–he referrers to this as the subsistent form.  Subsistent form applies only to immaterial entities which have no physical instantiation—in this sense, it can be understood as, “form existing on its own.”[21] 

Aquinas’ motivation for adopting this view was derived from Augustine, who believed that, “being is a matter of having order, species, and mode.”[22]  In other words, anything that has being or existence must have some distinguishable order, configuration, or characteristics which make it distinctive from other entities; that is, it must have an essence.  This is why immaterial entities, like angles, must also have form.[23]

Now that these basic metaphysical principles have been elucidated, the reader is in a position to grasp Aquinas’ understanding of the human soul.

Aquinas and the Human Soul

To begin with, Aquinas understood the soul to be the substantial form of the body.  He maintained this view because human beings are a part of physical reality; as such, like any other physical entity, they require a substantial form in order to instantiate or actualize their physical existence.  As the reader will recall, “a substantial material form is the configurational state of a material object that makes that object a member of the kind or species to which it belongs and gives it the causal powers characteristic of things of that kind.”[24]  Accordingly, the soul, acting as the substantial form of the body, is what configures and differentiates and gives life to a unique human individual. 

J. P. Moreland explains it this way:  “the soul is an individuated essence that makes the body a human body and that diffuses, informs, animates, develops, unifies and grounds the biological functions of its body.”[25]  As such, the human person “must be defined as a deep unity of form and matter.”[26]  Accordingly, the combination of body and soul, like matter and form, constitutes one complete substance.[27]

However, the soul, unlike the substantial form of other physical objects, may persist upon the death of the body, and unlike other material things is capable of existing without a physical instantiation.  For this reason, Aquinas also identified the soul as being a subsistent form.  In this sense, the human soul is truly unique, in that it has its foot in both the material and immaterial realms.[28]  Stump elucidates this paradoxical reality:

The human soul . . . is a configured configurer.  On the one hand, like an angel, it is able to exist and function on its own, apart from matter.  On the other hand, the human soul is not, as Plato thought, a spiritual substance moving the body which is also a substance in its own right; rather, the human soul is the substantial form constituting the material substance that a human being is, and it configures matter, as material forms do.[29]

Hence, the soul, as both the substantial and subsistent form, contains the information that constitutes human essence; and even after we die, and the particles of our body dissipate, the information, that constitutes our essence, our identity, continues to exist.

However, it is important to note that when the soul is separated from the body this constitutes an abnormality; that is, the existence of the soul apart from the body is an incomplete one.  As Aquinas explains, “since the soul is a part of human nature, it does not have perfection of its nature except in union with the body . . . and so, although the soul can exist and intellectively cognize when it is separated from the body, nonetheless it does not have the perfection of its nature.”[30]

Facing the Challenges of Cartesian Dualism

The reader may recall that Thomistic dualism was offered up as a happy alternative to Cartesian dualism in light of the significant challenges facing Descartes theory.  This final section will briefly demonstrate how Thomistic dualism faces up to the considerable challenges facing the Cartesian model and why Christian philosophers should favor this form of substance dualism above others. 

The first hurdle facing Cartesian dualism was its inability to define the union between the soul and the body–more pointedly, it’s failure to explain how two ontologically distinct and self-contained substances are capable of working together in a causally integrated way.  While this is a formidable problem for Cartesian dualism; the Thomistic dualist has less to be concerned about.  This is because the Thomistic dualist, unlike the Cartesian, is not postulating the existence of two individual substances; rather they are postulating one complete being whose nature is comprised of both material and immaterial form. 

As Aqunias says, “We must not think . . . of the soul and body as though the body had its own form making it a body, to which a soul is super-added, making it a living body; but rather that the body gets its being and its life from the soul.” [31]  Under the Thomistic view, the union of body and soul is deep and well defined; hence, the conceptual problem of explaining the causal relationship between soul and body is much less significant.

Regarding the second hurdle, concerning the theological and anthropological significance of the body, Thomistic dualism is completely unfazed.  Unlike the Cartesian, the Thomistic dualist holds that the physical body is part of the nature of man.  Under the Thomistic model it’s considered normal for a soul to be united to a body; and, while the soul can subsist without a body, this is considered abnormal.  Accordingly, it’s easy to see why God places such importance and value on the human body; why God sent his son to exist as a physical man; and why God intends to reunite our souls with a new glorified body at the resurrection. 

Conclusion

While Cartesian dualism is viewed by many philosophers as being the only option for someone interested in substance dualism; it is certainly not the only game in town.  As this paper demonstrates, Thomistic dualism offers a dynamic and arguably superior alternative to the Cartesian view.  Unlike Descartes’ model, Aquinas’ conception of the body and soul is comprehensive and avoids the major challenges often thrown at substance dualism; by providing a clearer picture of the soul’s unity with the body and rendering the body intrinsically valuable.  Consequentially, Thomistic dualism is more likely to stand up against the materialistic explanations of the mind which currently dominate western thinking; and place substance dualism back on the table as a viable option.             

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Aquinas, Thomas. Thomas Aquinas: Selected Writings. Translated by Ralph McInernny. New York: Penguin Books, 1998.

Graham, George. Philosophy of Mind: An Introduction. New York: Blackwell Publishers, 2002.

Moreland, J. P. and Scott B. Rae. Body & Soul: Human Nature & the Crisis in Ethics. Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2000.

———. P. and Stan Wallace. “Aquinas versus Locke and Descartes on the Human Person and End-of-Life Ethics.” International Philosophical Quarterly XXXV, no. 3 (Fall 1995). http://www.afterall.net/papers/490580.

Moyal, George J. D., ed. Descartes: Critical Assessments Volume III. New York: Routledge, 1991.

Ravenscroft, Ian. Philosophy of Mind: A Beginner’s Guide. New York: Oxford University Press, 2005.

Stump, Eleonore. Aquinas. New York: Routledge Taylor & Francis Group, 2003.

[2]Ibid., 191-192.

[3]Ian Ravenscroft, Philosophy of Mind: A Beginner’s Guide (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), 9.

[4]Ibid.

[5]Ibid., 10.

[6]George Graham, Philosophy of Mind: An Introduction (New York: Blackwell Publishers, 2002), 151.

[7]Ibid.

[8]George J. D. Moyal, ed., Descartes: Critical Assessments Volume III (New York: Routledge, 1991), 150.

[9]Ibid.

[10]J. P. Moreland and Stan Wallace, “Aquinas versus Locke and Descartes on the Human Person and End-of-Life Ethics,” International Philosophical Quarterly XXXV, no. 3 (Fall 1995), http://www.afterall.net/papers/490580.

[11]Moyal, Descartes: Critical Assessments Volume III, 150.

[12] It is the opinion of the author that this is the primary reason why Thomistic dualism is completely overlooked in contemporary discussions in the philosophy of mind.

[13] Moreland, International Philosophical Quarterly.

[14] Ibid.

[15] Ibid.

[16] Ibid.

[17] Ibid.

[18] Ibid.

[19] Ibid.

[20]  Thomas Aquinas, Thomas Aquinas: Selected Writings, trans. Ralph McInernny (New York: Penguin Books, 1998), 19.

[21]Stump, Aquinas, 198.

[22] Ibid., 200.

[23] Ibid.

[24] Ibid., 197.

[25] J. P. Moreland and Scott B. Rae, Body & Soul: Human Nature & the Crisis in Ethics (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2000), 202.

[26] Moreland, International Philosophical Quarterly.

[27] This point can be confusing because Thomistic dualism is classified as a form of substance dualism.  The truth be told, Thomistic dualism is a bit strange; it doesn’t fit into any category neatly.  It is not a materialistic reductionist theory which reduces the mind to the brain and it also doesn’t fit well within the confounds of property dualism (the postulation that mental states emerge from brain states).  Seeing as how Thomistic dualism still distinguishes between material and immaterial entities, it makes more sense to classify it as a form of substance dualism. 

[28] Stump, Aquinas, 200.

[29] Ibid., 200-201.

[30] Ibid., 201.

[31] Moreland, International Philosophical Quarterly.</I>

Unbeknownst to many, there is a growing debate among scholars as to whether or not the notorious Reformed Theologian Jacob Arminius was actually a Molinist.  In 1996, the venerable philosopher and theologian Eef Dekker argued this very point in an original paper entitled:  Was Arminius a Molinist?  In the article, Dekker suggests that if one examines Arminius’ use of middle knowledge, “the most specific checkpoint of Molinsism,” he would invariably conclude that, “Arminius indeed can be called a Molinist . . . [because] the theory of middle knowledge is at the very core of Arminius’ doctrine of divine knowledge.”[1] 

Unsurprisingly, this sentiment is not shared by all.  Critics like, Kirk R. MacGregor, have strongly condemned Dekker’s view, on the grounds that it does not take into consideration the subtle differences in Arminius’ and Molina’s thought:

On the one hand, if the theory [that Arminius was a Molinist] simply denotes the doctrine of God’s prevolitional counterfactual knowledge, then Arminius’ system is undoubtedly based upon scientia media.  On the other hand, if the theory is taken as shorthand for the full range of divine cognitive activities posited by Molina from God’s counterfactual knowledge to his creative decree, then Arminius’ system is not grounded in scientia media, as it deviates quite sharply from Molina’s depiction of God’s complete and unlimited deliberation.[2]

What is one to make of such extreme views?  How much, if any, did Arminius draw from Molina’s ideas?  These are precisely the questions this paper seeks to answer. 

In an attempt to paint a more balanced picture, this paper will examine the extent of Molina’s impact on Jacob Arminius; specifically explaining how Molina’s ideas influenced Arminius’ understanding of divine providence and free will.  To accomplish this goal it will: (1) outline Molina’s roll in the Sixteenth-Century revival of Scholasticism—explaining his controversial attempt at reconciling God’s providence with human free will (via. the sceintia media), and (2) summarize the impact of Scholasticism on Protestant thinkers—providing compelling evidence for Molina’s direct influence on Arminius’ thought. 

Luis de Molina and Sixteenth-Century Scholasticism

The unassuming Spanish theologian, Luis de Molina, best known for his controversial doctrine of middle knowledge, has been touted by some as, “perhaps the greatest philosophical theologian in Church history.”[3]  This, to be sure, is surprising to many Protestants who, aside from a few vague notions about middle knowledge, know very little about the man.  Although, it is beyond the scope of this paper to provide a comprehensive biography;  it is necessary to provide some biographical facts in an effort to explain Molina’s central roll in the Sixteenth-Century revival of Scholasticism.

Molina entered the Society of Jesus (known more commonly as the Jesuit order) at Alcala when he was only eighteen years old; and from there he was sent to Coimbra in Portugal to take up studies in philosophy and theology.[4]  He was so successful in his studies that, at the end of his course, he was made professor of philosophy at Coimbra, and promoted a few years later to the chair of theology at the affluent University of Evora.[5]   

Molina would go on to become a principal player in the extraordinary sixteenth-century revival of Scholasticism on the Iberian Peninsula, “a revival fueled in large measure by the Protestant Reformation and the subsequent Catholic response at the Council of Trent.”[6]  Many Protestants are surprised to learn that the issues surrounding the problem of human free will and divine providence raised by John Calvin and Martin Luther were the subject of intense debate among Catholic theologians as well.  Unlike the Protestants, however, the Catholic debate (which began years before Arminius’ disputations) revolved more around the theology of Thomas Aquinas than that of Augustine.[7]   It pitted the newly founded Society of Jesus—represented by Molina and Francisco Suarez—against, “the more established religious orders, especially Thomas Aquinas’s own Dominicans [primarily represented by Domingo Banez].”[8]

Molina, “ignited a fierce controversy,” in 1588 when he published his seminal work:  Liberi Arbitrii cum Gratiae Donis, Divina Praescientia, Providentia, Praedestinatione et Reprobatione Concordia (The Compatibility of Free Choice with the Gifts of Grace, Divine Foreknowledge, Providence, Predestination, and Reprobation), more commonly known as the Concordia.[9]  In it, Molina, “framed an explanatory order among the various logical moments of [God’s] omniscience,” positing that God has knowledge of conditional future contingents (i.e. counterfactuals of creaturely freedom) by means of scentia media or middle knowledge.[10]  He was convinced that his explanatory scheme “provided the key to avoiding the Protestant error of obliterating human free choice without relinquishing divine sovereignty in the process.”[11]

But, what is middle knowledge and how does it reconcile divine providence with human free will?  As quoted earlier, Eef Dekker asserts that middle knowledge is the, “most specific checkpoint of Molinism,” and maintains that it lies at the, “very core of Arminius’ doctrine of divine knowledge.”[12]  Is Dekker’s assessment correct?  The following section approaches an answer to these questions by providing a basic outline of Molina’s theory of middle knowledge and explaining how it solves the problem of divine providence  and human free will.

Molina and the Problem of Divine Providence and Free Will

Before discussing middle knowledge it is necessary to clarify Molina’s views on providence and free will.  To begin with, Molina held a high view of divine providence; as Alred J. Freddoso attests:

The doctrine of divine providence [as Molina understood it] involves the thesis that God, the divine artisan, freely and knowingly plans, orders, and provides for all the effects that constitute His artifact, the created universe with its entire history, and executes His chosen plan by playing an active causal role sufficient to ensure its exact realization.[13]

According to this understanding of providence, everything that transpires is, “properly said to be specifically decreed by God.”[14]  However, regarding God’s decrees, Molina would be quick to make a distinction between occurrences which God specifically and knowingly intends and occurrences [namely, human sin and natural evil] which God specifically and knowingly permits—the latter being a “concession to creaturely defectiveness.”[15]  

Another crucial aspect of Molina’s understanding of providence—closely tied to notions of intention and permission–is the idea of God’s general or divine concurrence.  According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, the word concurrence denotes, “the simultaneous occurrence of events or circumstances,” or an, “agreement or union in action.”  Other words one might use to express this idea are consent or cooperation. 

So, the idea behind divine concurrence is this:  God being the creator and sustainer of the universe is the primary cause of all things—including the effects of secondary causes (such as human action)—therefore, secondary causes require consent or cooperation from God in order to transpire.  As Molina explains it:  

The primary, though remote, source of contingency for the effects of all secondary causes belonging to the natural order is God’s will, which created the free choice of human beings and angels and the sentient appetite of those beasts that seem to be endowed with some sort of trace of freedom with respect to certain acts; on the other hand, the proximate and immediate source is the free choice of human beings and angels.[16]  

Naturally, the idea that the proximate and immediate source of secondary causes is the free choice of human beings is extremely controversial—namely, because it assumes humans have free will. 

Molina on Free Will

Freddoso describes Molina’s conception of freedom as being “strongly indeterministic,” and correctly asserts that, “in modern terms he [Molina] is an unremitting libertarian.”[17]  But, what does libertarian free will entail?  More often than not, libertarianism is misunderstood and abused.  Consequently, it is only proper to provide a brief outline of the modern philosophical understanding of libertarian free in an effort to help the reader understand Molina’s ideas more clearly. 

To begin with, modern libertarians (or, indeterminists) are careful to distinguish between two distinct categories of causation:  event-event causation and agent causation.  J. P Moreland defines event-event causation as being the idea that, “all causes and effects are events that constitute causal chains construed either deterministically (causal conditions are sufficient for an effect to obtain) or probabilistically (causal conditions are sufficient to fix the chances for an effect to obtain).”[18]  For the determinist, event-event causation is the only game in town.  Under their view, human actions are, “mere happenings; they are parts of causal chains of events that lead up to them in a deterministic fashion.”[19]  As such, human freedom does not truly exist. 

Libertarians, while accepting event-event causation as the correct explanation of most events in the natural world, posit a second form of causation to explain human action—namely, agent causation.[20]  Agent causation denotes the unique ability of human persons (i.e. agents) to instantiate events by virtue of their own power or ability to do so.  Libertarians recognize that agents are, “first-movers, unmoved movers who simply have the power to act as the ultimate originators of their actions.”[21]  In other words, agents are the efficient cause (i.e. producers) of their actions which are not determined by previous events. 

A common misconception, often held by critics of libertarian free will, is that the actions performed by agents are entirely random; this, however, simply reveals their total ignorance on the matter.  Contrary to what critics say, libertarians ardently believe agents produce actions intentionally; that is to say, agents have distinct reasons for acting and these reasons are the final cause of their actions.[22] 

To understand this, imagine a thirsty little boy who desires a coke.  Believing there is a coke in the refrigerator, the little boy, acting as a first-mover, opens the refrigerator and grabs the coke.  In this scenario, the boy is the efficient cause of his actions, while his desires and beliefs are the final cause.  Accordingly, the little boy’s actions were not random; there were good reasons for him to act.  However, the boy’s reasons did not necessitate his actions; for, it was within his power to refrain from grabbing the coke the entire time.

This final point holds particular importance for Molina, who believed man could not justly be responsible for his sin if he did not have a genuine choice to make.  In other words, if the little boy in the above example had been told by his parents not to drink the coke, but it was not within his power to refrain from grabbing the coke, his parents could hardly be just in condemning the boy when he did grab the coke.  As Molina explains,

What grievance will God have on Judgment Day against the wicked, since they were unable not to sin as long as God did not efficaciously incline and determine them to the good, but rather solely by His own free will decided from eternity not so to determine them?  Most assuredly, if this position is accepted . . . God’s justice with respect to the wicked vanishes, and a manifest cruelty and wickedness is discerned in God.[23]

Thus, at the heart of Molina’s libertarianism, lies a genuine concern for the character of God; for Molina, both His justice and goodness are at stake if man does not have free will.

Molina on God’s Omniscience and Prescience

Now that Molina’s views on divine providence and free will have adequately been explained we can turn our attention to his views on God’s omniscience and prescience; analyzing, in particular, the concept of middle knowledge.  To understand Molina’s views on these matters, however, one must first remember that he was heavily influenced by and drew upon the writings of the great Scholastic thinkers of the Middle Ages.  In light of this, one must understand their basic understanding of omniscience to understand Molina’s. 

In those times, it was common for medieval theologians to make a distinction between two “types” of divine knowledge; the first, was referred to as natural knowledge.[24]  Natural knowledge, is not based upon God’s will, rather, it is based upon God’s knowledge of himself and of every metaphysical possibility outside of himself.[25]  As William Lane Craig notes, “God’s natural knowledge includes knowledge of all possibilities.  He knows all the possible individuals he could create, all the possible circumstances he could place them in, all their possible actions and reactions, and all the possible worlds or orders which he could create.”[26]  In short, by His natural knowledge, God knows everything that could be.  Furthermore, “God could not lack this knowledge and still be God; the content of God’s natural knowledge is essential to him.”[27] 

The second type of knowledge can be called free knowledge.  By His free knowledge, God knows every aspect of actual reality—including the past, present and future—after deciding, from among the vast array of possibilities known by his natural knowledge, which world to instantiate; this type of knowledge is referred to as ‘free’ because, “it is preceded by an act of divine free will.”[28]  Molina elucidates,

The second type is purely free knowledge, by which, after the free act of His will, God knew absolutely and determinately, without any condition or hypothesis, which ones from among all the contingent states of affairs were in fact going to obtain and, likewise, which ones were not going to obtain.[29]

Unlike natural knowledge, free knowledge is based upon God’s will and, therefore, its content could be different from what it is now, as Craig states, “if he had created a different world, the content of his free knowledge would be different.”

Molina fully adopted the medieval depiction of omniscience outlined above, with one important exception:  Molina posited the existence of a third type of God’s knowledge.  He referred to this type of knowledge as middle knowledge because it logically fell in between God’s natural and free knowledge.  Middle knowledge is not contingent upon God’s will like free knowledge is; rather it is based upon God’s complete understanding of his free creatures,

The third type is middle knowledge, by which in virtue of the most profound and inscrutable comprehension of each faculty of free choice, He saw in His own essence what each such faculty [human being] would do with its innate freedom were it to be placed in this or in that or, indeed, in infinitely many orders of things—even though it [the human being] would really be able, if it so willed, to do the opposite.[30]

If natural knowledge can be summed up as God’s knowledge of all that could be, middle knowledge can be similarly summed up as God’s knowledge of what free actions a creature would make in any given circumstance or possible world God might place him in.[31]  In this respect, it can properly be said that God’s middle knowledge of conditional future contingents is partially contingent upon free creatures—in the sense that it is based upon what they would do in any given circumstance.

One can easily see how Molina’s view of omniscience would provide a robust view of God’s prescience.  Relying upon His natural and middle knowledge, God determines what type of world and what type of creatures he desires to create; once God acts upon this desire and creates, he has complete foreknowledge of everything that will transpire in the created world based upon his free knowledge.  In this sense, God does not, “acquire his knowledge of the future by ‘foreseeing’ what lay ahead.  Rather he has such knowledge innately.”[32]  Molina explains in more detail:

The knowledge by which God knows absolutely, without hypothesis, what is in fact going to happen because of created free choice is always free knowledge in God, and such knowledge depends on the free determination of His will, a determination by which He decides to crate such-and-such a faculty of free choice and such-and-such an order of things.[33]

Reconciling Divine Providence and Human Free Will

The aspect of Molina’s account of omniscience which holds the key to reconciling a high view of divine providence with a libertarian view of free will is not middle knowledge per say; rather, it is that God has middle knowledge pre-volitionally.  That is to say, God has middle knowledge before his free act of creation.  As Molina states, “God, before He decides to create a being endowed with free choice, foresees what that being would do on the hypothesis that it should be placed in a particular order of things.”[34]  Thus, in favor of a high view of providence, it can be said that God chooses what creatures to make, what world to create, what circumstances they will be placed in, and what causal relationship He will play in the matter.  Conversely, in favor of libertarian free will, God endows humans with the ability to act as first movers, unmoved movers of their actions—in this sense they are totally responsible for the choices they make because they are the ones making them.

It seems, therefore, contra Dekker, that middle knowledge, so construed as the ability to know what a creature would do in any given circumstance, is not the, “most specific checkpoint of Molinism.”[35]  Rather, it is the idea that God has middle knowledge before his free act of creation which enables Molinism to reconcile providence and free will.  In this sense, it is both the complex interaction between the three types of God’s knowledge and the creative way in which Molina utilizes them that makes his ideas so unique.  What remains to be determined is the extent of Molina’s impact on Arminius’ ideas.  Is Dekker correct when he asserts that the, “very core of Arminius’ doctrine of divine knowledge” is middle knowledge?[36]

Jacob Arminius and Protestant Scholasticism

To grasp the extent of Molina’s influence on Arminius, one must start by analyzing the mental environment in which Arminius lived and worked.  Consequently, Arminius’ mental environment was heavily influenced by the resurgence of Scholasticism within the Catholic Church.  In fact, Protestants in Arminius’ day adopted so much from this movement that modern scholars now refer to the Protestant intellectual movement of that period as Protestant Scholasticism.

As protestant ideas began to take hold in Europe, the generations following Luther and Calvin were faced with the task of establishing protestant orthodoxy and building schools and universities.[37]  Because of this, Protestant Scholasticism has been correctly described, “as a self-consciously Protestant methodological adaptation of the Reformation to the classroom.”[38]  In this respect, most of what Protestants adopted from Scholasticism was their systematic approach to theological issues.  As R. S. Clark explains,

[In this context, Scholasticism was] . . . a ‘technical and logical approach to theological system’ which subdivided the loci component parts and subjected those subdivisions to analysis by propositions.  It was a method designed to facilitate clarity in debate and to make use of Scripture and the broader Christian tradition.  Its goal was to provide ‘an adequate technical theology for schools, seminaries, and universities’ and the church with ‘right teaching’, literally orthodoxy.[39]       

The result of this adaptation of Scholastic methodology was the production of, “vast systematic works,” by both Reformed and Lutheran theologians.[40]  According to Justo L. Gonzalez, these works, “could be compared with the great summas of medieval scholasticism, both in their size and in their careful distinctions and analyses.”[41]

It seems, for some Protestants, the appeal of Scholasticism went beyond mere methodology.  According to Gonzalez, there was also a rekindling of interest in Aristotelian logic and metaphysics among certain theologians,“some even began using the works of their Jesuit counterparts, who also were doing theology on the basis of Aristotle.”[42]  Evidentially, Jacob Arminius, was one such theologian.

Arminius was often accused of, “supporting the theology of ‘Jesuits and other adversaries,” by his Reformed critics who believed he was trying to usurp orthodox Reformed doctrine.[43]  In one account, Casper Sibelius, a student at the University of Leiden, speaks explicitly about his professor’s use of Scholastic works in the classroom:

I observed, among a number of fellow students enrolled in the private theological class of doctor Arminius, many things that, had I been ignorant, might easily have led me into dark and abominable errors.  For in that class we were utterly drawn away from reading the works and treatises of Calvin, Beza, Zanchi, Martyr, Ursinus, Piscator, Perkins, and other learned and valuable theologians of the church of Christ, we were commanded to examine not only holy scripture, but equally so the writings of Socinus, Acontius, Castellio, Thomas Aquinas, Molina, Suarez and other enemies of grace.[44] 

Perhaps, however, this was just negative press–one opponent’s cheap attempt at discrediting Arminius’ ideas among Protestants.  While this is a valid hypothesis, the number of opponents who complained about the similarities between Arminius’ work and that of the teachings of Molina and other Jesuit scholars causes one to pause.[45]  Perhaps, if there was a way to establish a direct connection between Arminius and Molina, one could rule this hypothesis out completely?  Interestingly, there is.

 As it turns out, historians have acquired an itemized list of the full contents of Arminius’ library.  This list identifies a large portion of the authors listed by Sibelius—demonstrating that Arminius, indeed, maintained a significant collection of Jesuit writings.[46]  Most notably, it shows that Arminius had a full copy of Molina’s Concordia.  It seems, then, firmly established, that Molina had a considerable impact on Arminius’ intellectual development.[47] 

Not only is there a direct link between Molina and Arminius, but the mental environment in which Arminius lived and worked was overwhelmingly steeped in the methodology of medieval Scholasticism.  What remains now, is to compare and contrast Arminius’ views on divine providence, omniscience, and human free will with that of Molina’s.  Once this is accomplished, a full account of the extent of Molina’s impact on Arminius will have been made; allowing for a decisive opinion on Dekker’s thesis.   

Arminius on Divine Providence, Human Free Will, and Omniscience   

At even a cursory reading of Arminius’ writings one can see the profound influence Molina had on his thought.  The question is, however, how far reaching was this influence?  Are there any important areas in which the two diverge?   In order to answer these questions, this section will exposit Arminius’ teachings on divine providence, human free will, and omniscience and compare it with Molina’s views; following the same basic pattern of the previous section, which outlined Molina’s thought.  

Accordingly, the discussion necessarily begins with the issue of divine providence.  Note the remarkable similarities between Molina and Arminius on this issue: 

[Speaking of providence] I declare that it preserves, regulates, governs and directs all things, and that nothing in the world happens fortuitously or by chance.  Besides this, I place in subjection to Divine Providence both the free-will and even the actions of a rational creature, so that nothing can be done without the will of God . . . only we must observe a distinction between good actions and evil ones, by saying, that ‘God both wills and performs good acts,’ but that “He only freely permits those which are evil.’[48] 

Like Molina, Arminius holds a high view of God’s providence; acknowledging God’s direct and active involvement in everything which takes place in His creation.  Interestingly, he differentiates God’s involvement between ‘good acts’ and ‘evil acts’ in much the same way as Molina did; stating that God only, “freely permits those [acts] which are evil.”[49]  This idea of permission, is fundamental to both Molina and Arminius’ thought and is directly tied to their mutual concern for preserving the free will of man and protecting the character of God—that is, from dispelling the idea that God is the author of sin.   

Nevertheless, there is a crucial difference here as well.  Arminius states that God, “both wills and performs good acts,” suggesting that God acts as the first mover or efficient cause of all good actions.  In this regard, Arminius is more in line with Reformed ideology than with Molina who simply argued that God “intends” good acts. 

The discussion of God’s causal involvement with both good and evil actions flows naturally into the subject of God’s divine concurrence.  Here, once again, there are both striking similarities and subtle differences between the two.  Regarding divine concurrence, Arminius says,

[it] is necessary to produce every act, because nothing whatever can have any entity except from the First and Chief Being, who immediately produces the entity.  The Concurrence of God is not his immediate influx into a second or inferior cause, but it is an action of God immediately flowing into the effect of the creature, so that the same effect in one and the same entire action may be produced simultaneously by God and the creature.[50]

From this quotation, one would gather that Arminius holds the exact same view of divine concurrence as Molina.  He explains that, without God, there would be no actions at all because He is both creator and sustainer of all life.  In this sense God is “necessary” for producing every action. 

However, as was stated earlier, Arminius also seems to suggest that God acts as the efficient cause of all good actions; speaking elsewhere about the issue of divine concurrence he states, “the power of God serves universally, and at all times, to execute . . . [creaturely action] . . . with the exception of permission; specially, and sometimes, these acts are executed by the creatures themselves.”[51]  This statement implies there are times when God acts as the immediate cause of actions and others when he simply allows creatures to act in accordance with their nature.  In this sense, Arminius deviates from Molina rather drastically.

Arminius on Free Will

It is typically believed that Arminius maintained a libertarian view of free will; and in some sense this is true but in another it is false.  Somewhat incongruently, Arminius held to libertarian free will when it came to creatures performing evil actions but not when it came to creatures performing good actions.  Regarding evil actions, Arminius asserts that God permits creatures to act as the efficient cause or first movers of their actions—“to conduct their motions agreeably to their own nature.”[52]  However, as was just discussed, when it comes to good actions, Arminius appears to be a determinist—at least in the sense that something other than the creature [i.e. God]  is acting as the first mover or efficient cause of the action. 

 In any event, Arminius’ embracement of the libertarian view of freedom, when it comes to the evil acts of men, was spurred by the exact same reason as Molina—to avoid making God the author of sin.  As the historical record attests, Arminius began writing about this issue to counter the overbearing views of his rival, Francis Gomarus, “who felt constrained to present his form of Calvinism in a most offensive way.”  According to Gomarus, “God moves the tongues of men to blaspheme,” and, “predestined . . . [man] . . . to sin.”  The implication of Gomarus’ thought, which Arminius strenuously argued against, was that God directly causes men to sin.

Arminius on Omniscience and Prescience

It is in Arminius’ writings on God’s omniscience that the clearest example of Molina’s influence can be seen.  Like Molina, Arminius embraced the same three types or categories of God’s knowledge:

The Scholastics say besides, that one kind of God’s knowledge is natural and necessary, another free, and a third intermediate (medium).  (1) Natural or necessary knowledge is that by which God understands himself and all possible; (2) free knowledge is that by which he knows all other beings; (3) middle knowledge is that by which he knows that “if this occurs, that will happen.”  The first precedes every free act of the divine will.  The second follows the free act of the divine will.  This latter act indeed is preceded by the free will, but sees any future thing as a consequence of it . . . middle [knowledge] must intervene in things that depend on the freedom of creaturely choice.[53]

This passage demonstrates, in the most explicit fashion, the vast extent of Molina’s influence on Arminius’s thought; yet, rather paradoxically, it also demonstrates a fundamental difference in their understanding of middle knowledge. 

In support of Dekker’s thesis, it can be said that, “Arminius’ conception of the scientia media is foundational to his revision of the doctrine of predestination and to his soteriological synergism.”[54]  Furthermore, it can be said that Arminius defines middle knowledge correctly as being that by which he knows, “if this occurs, that will happen.”[55]  However, Arminius clearly deviates, quite drastically, from Molina’s logical ordering of middle knowledge. 

Unlike Molina, Arminius argues that middle knowledge is, “preceded by the free will,” which essentially means that God does not have middle knowledge pre-volitionally.[56]  As MacGregor explains,

From his claim that God perceives ‘created will’ or ‘created choice’ through middle knowledge we see that Arminius . . . seems to clearly presuppose that it transpired before (not after) God’s scentia media.  In other words, Arminius assumes that God has already settled on creating a particular group of individuals logically prior to his apprehension of scientia media, which knowledge then furnishes him the rational ground to elect or reprobate every such individual based upon what each would freely do in the actual world.[57]     

Thus, Arminius’ understanding of middle knowledge and how it explains God’s foreknowledge of conditional future contingents is the exact opposite of Molina’s. 

In Arminius’ view, God creates based upon his natural knowledge, and has knowledge of what free actions the creatures in his created world would make, based upon his middle knowledge.  In contrast, Molina, believed God had middle knowledge before his free act of creation and in fact relied upon this knowledge in making his decision to create this particular world. 

Conclusion

Based upon this papers analysis, it can be concluded, without reservation, that Molina had a profound influence on Arminius’ thinking.  Not only is there a direct link between Molina and Arminius [via. The copy of the Concordia, along with other Jesuit writings, in Arminius’ library], but the mental environment in which Arminius lived and worked was overwhelmingly steeped in the methodology of medieval Scholasticism.  Furthermore, a careful comparison of Arminius’ and Molina’s understanding of divine providence, free will, and omniscience, shows that Arminius held similar if not identical positions on many of the issues related to these topics.  However, there are notable differences between them as well:  (1) Molina was a strict libertarian while Arminius was only a libertarian concerning the evil actions of men and (2) Arminius’ did not believe God had middle knowledge pre-volitionally.  Based upon these facts it can be concluded that Arminius was not a Molinist, as Dekker believes, but that he simply drew upon and reinterpreted Molina’s thoughts.   

[2] Kirk R. MacGregor, A Molinist-Anabaptist Systematic Theology (New York: University Press of America, 2007), 64.

[3] Ibid., 14.

[4] J. Pohle, “Luis de Molina,” in The Catholic Encyclopedia, http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/10436a.htm. (accessed October 14, 2009).

[5] Ibid.

[6] Luis de Molina, On Divine Foreknowledge: Part IV of the Concordia, trans. Alfred J. Freddoso (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1988), vii.

[7] This is not to say that Augustine’s theology did not play an important role in the Catholic debate; but simply to point out which theologian’s work Molina and his adversaries interacted with the most.

[8] Ibid., vii.

[9] Ibid., vii.

[10] MacGregor, A Molinist-Anabaptist Systematic Theology, 14.

[11] Ibid., 15.

[12] Dekker, “Was Arminius a Molinist?,” 337.

[13]Molina, On Divine Foreknowledge, 3.

[14] Ibid., 3.

[15] Ibid., 3.

[16] Ibid., 94.

[17] Ibid., 24.

[18] J. P. Moreland, Scott B. Rae, Body & Soul:  Human Nature & the Crisis in Ethics (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2000), 123.

[19] Ibid., 123.

[20] Ibid., 129.

[21] Ibid., 129-130.

[22] Ibid., 129.

[23] Molina, On Divine Foreknowledge, 139.

[24] Eef Dekker, Middle Knowledge (Leuven: Peeters, 2000), 4.

[25] Ibid., 4.

[26] William Lane Craig, The Only Wise God (Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, 1987), 129.

[27] Ibid., 129.

[28] Dekker, Middle Knowledge, 4.

[29] Molina, On Divine Foreknowledge, 168.

[30] Ibid., 168.

[31] Dekker, Middle Knowledge, 5.

[32] Craig, The Only Wise God, 133.

[33] Molina, On Divine Foreknowledge, 170.

[34] Ibid., 170.

[35] Dekker, “Was Arminius a Molinist?,” 337.

[36] Ibid., 337.

[37] Clark, R. S in, Protestant Scholasticism:  Essay’s in Reassessment, ed. Carl R. Trueman, R. Scott Clark (Carlisle: Paternoster Press, 1999), 115-116.

[38] Ibid., 115.

[39] Ibid., 115-116.

[40] Justo L. Gonzalez, The Story of Christianity Volume 2 (New York: Harper One, 1985), 175.

[41] Ibid., 175.

[42] Ibid., 175.

[43] Richard A. Muller, God, Creation, and Providence in the Thought of Jacob Arminius (Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, 1991), 28.

[44]Ibid., 27-28.  Emphasis mine.

[45] Ibid., 28.

[46] Ibid., 46.

[47] Ibid., 46.

[48] James Arminius, The Writings of James Arminius Volume One, trans. James Nichols and W. R. Bagnall (Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, 1956), 120.

[49] Ibid., 120.  Emphasis mine.

[50] Roger E. Olson, Arminian Theology:  Myths and Realities (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2006), 122.

[51] James Arminius, The Writings of James Arminius Volume 2, trans. James Nichols and W. R. Bagnall (Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, 1956), 70.

[52] Ibid., 70.

[53] Muller, God, Creation, and Providence in the Thought of Jacob Arminius, 155-156.

[54] Ibid., 154.

[55] Ibid., 155.

[56] Ibid., 156.

[57] MacGregor, A Molinist-Anabaptist Systematic Theology, 71.

It seems rational discussion is passé.  I was recently forbidden to make comments on PZ Myers incendiary blog Pharyngula for attempting to engage in a rational discussion over a lecture he gave at AAI.  To my great disappointment, I was denied the privilege of commenting on PZ’s site after leaving only two posts.  Perhaps, if I had peppered my comments with profanity, ugly ad hominem attacks, and a *facepalm*, I would still have access to his site.  As it is, I won’t be making comments on Mr. Myer’s site any time in the foreseeable future.

For those interested in reading PZ’s blog and my original comments please follow the link below (my first comment is # 68):

http://scienceblogs.com/pharyngula/2009/10/my_talk_at_aai.php#comments

To my opponents, who believe they have delivered decisive blows to my arguments, here are my rejoinders:

Mr. Nerd of Redhead,

You say, “don’t lie to us about the real amount of scientific research being done. We know better.”

Thus far, I have made no comments regarding the amount of scientific research being done on ID Theory–it’s simply not an issue I’m interested in discussing at this time.  What does interest me is the fact that we make design inferences all the time and that the ability to make such inferences seems to be crucial to the sciences—a point that PZ demonstrates beautifully in his lecture.

So, the question still stands:  If distinguishing between things which have arisen from undirected natural processes and things which have arisen from intelligent design is a valid, and important, aspect of science, why can’t biologists employ such methods when analyzing biological systems?

Mr. CJO,

There are two things about your response I’d like to address:

(1) If your assertions are correct,  S.E.T.I is a complete waste of time and money–the extraterrestrial agents they seek evidence for are not, “extremely well understood in terms of motives and capabilities.”  If the S.E.T.I researchers followed your way of thinking, it would be impossible to determine whether an alien signal was designed unless they had already come into contact with the very extraterrestrials they were searching for.

The fact of the matter is, we know what intelligence is and we are capable of recognizing intelligent activity or involvement when we see it.  Distinguishing between things which have arisen due to undirected natural causes and things which are the result of intelligent design is a fundamental aspect of science; an aspect S.E.T.I researchers rely upon when they analyze radio signals from outer space.

(2)  You say, “if you want to “detect design in biology,” first you have to identify where the apparently unbroken chain of reproduction was broken in order to do this design work, and second you have to identify an agent capable of conceiving and carrying out the design.”

Why?  I don’t have to know when and how a brick wall was built to recognize that it is not the product of undirected natural causes.  Similarly, I don’t have to know when or how a molecular machine was designed to recognize that it is the product of intelligence (if, in fact, it is).  The methods we are discussing involve how scientists recognize the difference between something that is the product of undirected natural causes and something that is the product of intelligence—not when and how design was implemented.

There are three things about this video which seemed worthy of commentary:

(1)  The comicality of Dr. Nesse’s habitual use of the word design when describing human anatomy. Even after Dawkins corrects him, Nesse can’t seem to avoid using design language and engineering terminology when talking about the body (as if it actually was designed!)

(2)  The self-refuting nature of Dr. Nesse’s argument against intelligent design. Parroting hundreds of Darwinists before him, Nesse rehashes the same old argument:  that “bad design” in nature proves there is no design in nature.  Darwinists seem to find this argument existentially pleasing—but those of a rational sort tend to find it dim-witted.  Think about it: once you’ve admitted there is “bad design” in nature is it really coherent to suggest, in the same breath, that there is no design in nature?  Let’s face it, bad design is still design.  I may think of better ways to design my watch—but I don’t deny my watch is designed!   Either there is design in nature—however bad it may be–or there is not.

(3)   The unfortunate fact that Dr. Nesse’s example of bad design is really a bad example. It is entirely unclear why the human wrist demonstrates bad design–unless one could know what the designers original intent or “end goal” was, this claim is entirely subjective.  If the designer responsible for engineering the human body had in mind to create an organism who could never be hurt, then, yes, humans are badly designed (even if this were the case, as I pointed out above, this does not prove there is no design in nature.)  However, it seems quite possible, upon observing the human body,  that this was not the designer’s original intent or goal.  As Nesse’s description indicates, the designer seems to have had in mind to build creatures with the remarkable capability of rotating their wrists.  Far from being “bad” design it seems the designer succeeded marvelously in accomplishing his goal.

Also posted on Of Virtue and Life

In my recent post Abortion and the Philosophy of Mind I made this comment:

“In all of the debates raging over the status of the fetus I have yet to come across material which articulates the connection this issue has with the philosophy of mind.”

I am happy to report that I’ve found an excellent book which deals with this very issue from a dualist perspective.  The title of the book is Body & Soul: Human Nature & the Crisis in Ethics by J. P. Moreland and Scott B. Rae. I highly recommend this book to anyone interested in an articulate account of the nature of human beings, the philosophy of mind, and bioethics from a Christian perspective.

I shall write more on this subject myself in the very near future; until then, please enjoy this great book!

In recent years Molinism has made a come-back in philosophical circles thanks to the work of Alfred J. Freddoso, Thomas Flint, and William Lane Craig.  As a result, Molina’s ideas are creeping their way back into theological discussions as well.  Slowly but surely, pastors and seminary students are becoming acquainted with, at least, the term Molinism.  Often, this minimal acquaintance leads the uninitiated to do a quick search on goggle.  Upon searching, they are confronted by the blog-post of Dr. C. Matthew McMahon on A Puritan’s Mind entitled:  The Heresy of Middle Knowledge.  Curiosity gets the best of them and they eagerly click on the post with the inflammatory title.  As they read the first paragraph of McMahon’s article, and encounter his thesis statement, any positive interest in Molinism which might have existed quickly fades away:

“In this paper, the heresy I am re-refuting surrounds Theology Proper, or the doctrine of God.  It is specifically in terms of the doctrine of the knowledge of God, or His Omniscience.  The error is called Molinism, or Middle Knowledge (Today Open Theism is its close brother.)”

After reading the final words of his thesis the troubled pastor or seminary student dutifully  stuffs Molinism in a black file-folder marked, “Heresies that must not be named,” and forego any more research on the matter.

For many, Dr. McMahons malicious and poorly researched blog-post is both their first and last introduction to Molinism.  I find this situation very sad, because Dr. McMahon’s description of Molinism is filled with inaccuracies and misrepresentations.  To rectify this unfortunate situation I will correct four of the biggest mistakes in McMahon’s post.

(1)  McMahon claims that the Doctrine of Middle Knowledge is Open Theisms “close brother.”

This claim is truly baffling considering Molina’s doctrine of Middle Knowledge is actually Open Theisms worst nightmare; for, it ascribes to God what Molina terms supercomprehension.  Without getting into too much detail, this means that God has knowledge of how a person would freely act in any and all possible worlds.  He calls this supercomprehension because it says that God has comprehensive knowledge of states of affairs that may never actually obtain (something far beyond regular comprehension.)  On top of this, Molina believed that God had this knowledge prior to his decision to create.  To put it in the crude vernacular of modern language: the doctrine of middle knowledge is like foreknowledge 2.0.

Open Theism argues that it is impossible for God to have foreknowledge—especially foreknowledge of the free actions of human beings.  So, it is entirely false and nonsensical to claim that Molina’s Doctrine of Middle Knowledge is Open Theisms “close brother.”

(2)  McMahon says, “middle knowledge states that God cannot know the future free acts of men in the same way He knows other things absolutely.  Thus, this middle knowledge is dependent upon the free acts of what men will do.  God, in His “omniscience”, waits for men to act and then will choose them to be saved based on their choice to be saved.”

It’s clear from this statement that McMahon has grossly misunderstood the thrust of Molina’s argument.  Molina holds to a libertarian view of free-will which basically means that human beings are the efficient cause or first cause of their own actions.  Naturally, if man has libertarian free-will then God’s middle knowledge is partly contingent (dependent) upon man because man is the one producing the action.  However, it does not follow from this that, “God, in His “omniscience,” waits for men to act and then will choose them to be saved based on their choice.”  This is the Arminian position.

The crucial part of Molina’s theory is not that God has middle knowledge but that he has middle knowledge prior to his free act to create.  Accordingly, God knew that Peter would deny him when placed in situation A (A being the situation described in the gospels) before the foundation of the world.  Furthermore, God knew how Peter would act in any and all possible situations that he could put Peter in.  Based on both his natural and middle knowledge God chose to create a world in which situation A would obtain.

So, it is not that God waits for men to act and then chooses them.  God chooses what creatures to make, what world to create, and what situations to place them in—knowing what free choices they will in fact make.  Thus, God predestines but this does not impinge upon mans free will.  Man is still responsible for his actions because he is the cause of his actions.

(3) McMahon says, “The Molinian logician will argue that an action must first occur before it can be true.  God, then, cannot know anything in this manner as true and absolute unless it has first occurred.”

This statement is obviously false, because Molina believed God possessed middle knowledge before his free act of creation. In other words, the Molinist does not believe an action must first occur before it can be true—that is Open Theism.  The Molinist believes that God has supercomprehension, and thus can have knowledge of actions before they occur and even if they never occur.

(4) McMahon says, “It is certainly easy to see what the doctrine of Middle knowledge is attractive here.  Men are ultimately their own little saviors.”

Well, actually, the doctrine of middle knowledge says no such thing.  In fact, the doctrine of middle knowledge has only indirect implications on matters of soteriology—it is directly concerned with matters of God’s omniscience.  There may be some crazy exception (there always is) but Molinist’s do not believe man can save himself.  They do believe salvation comes from the Lord—through the work of Jesus on the cross.

Michael Dowd recently made the oxymoronic claim that he was a Christian Naturalist on his blog Evolutionary Times.  According to Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary, an oxymoron is a, “combination of contradictory or incongruous words . . . something that is made up of contradictory or incongruous elements”—and this is precisely what Michael Dowd’s claim amounts to.

Christians believe in God—an all-powerful, all-knowing, personal agent who exists outside of space and time.  Simply put, Christians believe in the supernatural.  This is a foundational belief upon which all other Christian beliefs and doctrines are built upon.  There is no confusion on this point because the Judeo-Christian worldview is crystal clear about the nature of God—he is a person and he is the creator and sustainer of all things (this includes both material and immaterial (spiritual) elements.)

Naturalism asserts that nature is a closed system of material causes and effects—it denies the existence of God and the existence of immaterial substances (spirits or souls).  Simply put, Naturalism is a repudiation of the Christian worldview; it stands as the complete antithesis of the Christian picture of reality.  There is absolutely no confusion on this point because naturalists are very clear about their position on the nature of reality—the physical/material world is all that exists.

Accordingly, Michael Dowd’s assertion that he is a “Christian Naturalist” is incoherent and can only be explained by one of three ways:  (1) Dowd misunderstands what it means to be a Christian, (2) Dowd misunderstands what it means to be a naturalist, or (3) Dowd misunderstands what it means to be a Christian and what it means to be a naturalist.  Now, we can easily eliminate numbers (2) and (3), because it’s quite clear from his writings that Mr. Dowd understands naturalism.  As he says,

“I am a Christian Naturalist, not a supernaturalist . . . my focus and locus of inspiration is found in the cosmos and in this life.” (emphasis mine)

To that extent, it seems clear that Mr. Dowd misunderstands what it means to be a Christian.  In fact, we can be sure of this for one important reason:  Mr. Dowd espouses a naturalistic worldview which, by definition, rejects the foundational Christian belief that God exists.   “But wait,” you say, “Mr. Dowd talks about God all the time; he even dedicated his book Thank God for Evolution to him!”  Mr. Dowd may very well believe in god, but not in the Christian God.  This is made very clear in his book:

“What a difference it makes to be groping our way forward in faith—in partnership with God, or, should you prefer less traditional terminology:  trusting the Universe, trusting Reality, trusting Time.”  (pg. 30)

For the Christian, using terminology like, “trusting the Universe,” is not the same as using terminology like, “trusting God.”  This is because the most basic Christian belief is that God is not the universe—God is the creator and sustainer of the universe.  The universe, the complex arrangement of matter and energy, is not the same thing as a personal, immaterial, God who created matter and energy.  So, when Michael Dowd suggests—as he does throughout his book—that we can interchange these terms it becomes evident that he grossly misunderstands what it means to be a Christian.

In short, Mr. Dowd might as well take the word ‘Christian’ out of his self-description and simply call himself a naturalist—for that is what he is.

In all of the debates raging over the status of the fetus I have yet to come across material which articulates the connection this issue has with the philosophy of mind.  This strikes me as odd, because one’s theory of mind is inextricably tied to one’s anthropology.  More to the point, one’s theory of the mind will have a dramatic impact on how he views the fetus.

The most pertinent topic in the philosophy of mind relating to this issue is the so called mind/body problem—which deals with defining what a mind is and how it relates to the brain.  Philosophers tackling the mind/body problem usually fall into two camps: dualists-those who believe both immaterial and material substances exist–and physicalists—those who believe only material substances exist.   In more common language, dualists believe human beings have a soul and physicalists do not.  In relation to issues regarding the fetus, the question boils down to this: if souls exist, does a fetus have a soul?  And how does this impact the abortion debate?

How one answers the mind/body problem will not only have a dramatic impact on how he views the fetus, but on how he views a full grown human being.  This is because one’s theory of mind reflects his general ontology of the human being.  For example, if one adheres to a physicalist theory of the mind then he believes that a human being is nothing more than matter and energy—the hapless byproduct of billions of years of evolution.   Under this scheme, human beings are not endowed with any special or unique importance or value-our existence is just a brute fact of nature.

In contrast, those who hold to some form of substance dualism—that both material and immaterial substances exist—believe human beings have a soul.   If human beings have a soul, this entails the existence of a transcendent immaterial being—namely God.  In natural theology, this forms the basis for the so called Argument from Consciousness which has recently been reformulated by J. P. Moreland (Consciousness and the Existence of God, Routledge Studies in the Philosophy of Religion.)   If the argument from consciousness is sound, then God exists; and if human beings are a special part of his creation, it stands to reason that human beings have a purpose—a reason for existence–and that they are inherently valuable.

So we see how foundational our theory of mind is to the status of the fetus.  If the fetus is merely matter and energy, and God does not exist, then the fetus has no intrinsic or objective value or importance.  But, according to the physicalist scheme, this is true for the full grown adult as well.  In essence, there is no ontological difference between a fetus and a full grown human being under the physicalist perspective—both are simply matter and energy and neither one possess intrinsic value or dignity.

However, if substance dualism is correct, then there is a strong possibility that God exists.  If God exists, man has a purpose and is intrinsically valuable.  Like the physcialist, the dualist theory does not delineate an ontological difference between the fetus and a full grown adult.  Both posses a human soul, both are made in the image of God, and therefore, both are intrinsically valuable.

It becomes obvious that the position one holds on the status of the fetus and abortion is inextricably tied to ones theory of the mind.  If a fetus is simply matter and energy then it is ontologically equal to a full grown human being—that is, it possesses no intrinsic value or dignity.  As such, there is no objective reason why abortion is wrong—and for that matter there is no objective reason why the killing of a full grown human being is wrong either.

Conversely, if the fetus is made up of more than matter and energy—if it has a soul—then it is ontologically equal to a full grown human being.  More importantly, if a fetus has a soul, it has intrinsic value and worth—and this is true of the full grown human being as well.  Accordingly, there is an objective reason why abortion is wrong; because it is the killing of a human being; the destruction of a life endowed with the same value, dignity, and worth of a full grown adult.

I would like to congratulate Michael Dowd for doing a top-notch job defending Intelligent Design in chapter two of his popular book, Thank God for Evolution.  I would like to congratulate him; but perhaps I should not.  Embarrassingly, I believe he is under the impression that what he has written constitutes a solid defense of Darwinian Evolution.  In actual fact, he has produced one of the all time worst analogies for evolution printed in the English language—and in the process provided evidence for Intelligent Design.

Chapter two of Dowd’s insipid book is boldly titled, Evolution Is Not Meaningless Blind Chance.  Now, there are a couple of things one would expect to find in a chapter with such a title; one of them being a clear example of how evolution is not meaningless blind chance.  Unfortunately, such examples are largely absent from the text.  This is not to say that he didn’t try, but as I will soon demonstrate, his attempt leaves much to be desired.  Lest I should overlook one of his more subtle points I will simply quote to you his exact words–any attempt on my part to summarize Dowd’s work would surely do him great injustice.

At the opening of chapter two, Mr. Dowd says this:

In a million years, the ebb and flow of tides on all the sandy beaches of the world will not fashion even one instance of a multistoried sandcastle that any of us would be fooled into thinking was the work of human hands.  Not in a billion years will a tornado whip together a functioning bicycle (much less a jet plane) from a heap of unassembled parts.  We know this.  Commonsense tells us that random, directionless processes cannot give birth to complex or sophisticated offspring.  (pg. 31, emphasis mine)

I must confess that opening chapter two with this paragraph was a bold move on Mr. Dowd’s part.  Proponents of ID have been making these exact claims for quite some time—and it is hard to ignore the logical force and intuitive appeal of such argumentation.  To his credit, Mr. Dowd fully endorses it—even referring to it as being “commonsense.”  In the next line down he proudly proclaims, “here is the good news for peoples of faith . . . evolution is not blind chance.  Randomness yields nothing—by itself.” (31)

It is clear that Mr. Dowd is a master rhetorician and would make a great used car salesman–he knows how to make a bad product look good.  First, you agree with your opponent’s primary objection—random directionless processes cannot give birth to highly complex integrative molecular machinery—and then conclude by assuring him that Darwinian Evolution postulates nothing of the sort.  Darwinian Evolution is not just random directionless processes—that would be silly.  No one in their right mind could believe something so nonsensical!

According to Mr. Dowd, evolution is not a random directionless process because of natural selection.  To illustrate this profound point, Dowd provides this splendid analogy:

Each morning, when I download my email, I engage in a kind of evolutionary process.  Speaking invitations I forward to my assistant; bills to my wife.  Whenever I encounter spam, I hit the delete button.  There is randomness, to be sure, in the order in which the emails show up on my screen.  But what is far more important is my propensity to sort by function and discard anything that is not helpful…Ever since Darwin, evolutionary scientists have been presenting biological evolution in much the same way.  What Darwin called “natural selection” is nothing more than the sum of Nature’s sorting process. (31-32)

Unwittingly, Mr. Dowd’s little story proves precisely the opposite point he intended it to—it proves that Intelligent Design is the best explanation at hand to explain certain features of the universe.  Like so many Darwinian analogies, Dowd’s fails because it utilizes an intelligent agent who can make rational decisions as a representation of natural selection.

In the analogy, natural selection is personified as Michael Dowd sorting through his email—forwarding messages to their correct file location and deleting spam.  However, this analogy is not—by any stretch of the imagination—an accurate depiction of natural selection.  Natural selection is not an intelligent being—it cannot make decisions, it doesn’t evaluate, it doesn’t look ahead—natural selection is a completely mindless physical process.  As Richard Dawkins would put it, natural selection is the “blind watchmaker;” it cannot see what it is doing.  I would go further:  natural selection is not only blind, it is deaf and dumb as well.

Michael Dowd can read and understand emails, determine what type of email he is reading, look to the future and plan ahead–moving pertinent emails into files for his assistant and wife to view—and delete  files he’s deemed un-useful.   All of these actions require the one thing Darwinian Evolution does not allow for—intelligence.  In presenting natural selection as an intelligent agent, Dowd’s analogy is inaccurate and grossly misleading.

In spite of what Mr. Dowd would have you believe, Darwinian evolution is a random directionless process.   It is based upon random genetic mutations—hence, it is random–and naturals selection –which is, by definition, a directionless process.  If natural selection had an end goal or direction it would require some sort of intelligence directing the process; an intelligence who had in mind what it wanted to do with a given biological system—who could look ahead and decide what an organism would need to survive given a certain environment.  But this requires planning and reasoning—this requires a mind.

It seems to me that Mr. Dowd has utterly failed to prove his assertion that evolution is not a random directionless process.  In consequence, he has proved the very thing he hoped to disprove: that certain features of the universe are best explained in terms of intelligent design.  After all, no one believes that a random directionless process can produce sophisticated/complex structures:

In a million years, the ebb and flow of tides on all the sandy beaches of the world will not fashion even one instance of a multistoried sandcastle that any of us would be fooled into thinking was the work of human hands.  Not in a billion years will a tornado whip together a functioning bicycle (much less a jet plane) from a heap of unassembled parts.  We know this.  Commonsense tells us that random, directionless processes cannot give birth to complex or sophisticated offspring. (pg. 31, emphasis mine)