Try saying that three times fast! And then read this fascinating essay about philosopher John Rawls’ early writings on religion (which have only recently been published) and the continuity of the ideas expressed there with his mature (and completely secular) political philosophy. It seems that the young Rawls considered entering the priesthood of the Episcopal Church but lost his faith after his experiences in World War II. Nevertheless, based on this piece, Rawls’ earlier religious ideas–particularly a highly personalistic and communitarian understanding of Christian ethics–continued to have analogues in his later work.
Category: Philosophy
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Evolution, creation, and human uniqueness
There’s an account making the rounds of a recent debate between atheist philosopher Daniel Dennett and Christian theist Alvin Plantinga. One of the issues that comes up is the compatibility between Christianity (or theism more generally) and evolution, a perennial topic of interest here at ATR.
Dennett seems to see them as incompatible. Plantinga not only thinks they are compatible, but makes the stronger argument that believers in evolution ought also be theists, because only theism adequately accounts for our ability to understand the world in the ways required by modern science, as opposed to being just adaptive enough to get by. In other words: if naturalism is true, we have no reason to trust our ability to know that it’s true!
That’s a difficult argument to evaluate, and I’m not particularly interested in trying right now. In fact, I probably disagree with Plantinga almost as much as I would with Dennett, so I don’t really have a dog in this fight. However, I do have a dog in the fight about the compatibility between theism and evolution.
Some critics point out that evolution would seem to be a circuitous and wasteful means of bringing humans into existence if that was the creator’s sole intention. But there’s no reason for a Christian, or any other variety of theist, to think that creating human beings was God’s sole purpose in creating.
It’s quite plausible–and indeed I think true–that God’s purposes, so far as we can discern them, include bringing into existence the entire array of creatures that exist and have existed for their own sake, not just as a means to the end of creating humans. I see no reason, for example, to think that God isn’t quite fond of dinosaurs, considering they were around for a lot longer than we have been.
Clearly Christian theology is committed to some kind of unique status for human beings. Though we should be wary of confidently stating what that is. After all, the gospels teach that God goes to excessive lengths precisely for the ones who least deserve it. So it could be that we’re special in our unique ability to ruin things.
However we come out on that issue, though, it’s perfectly consistent with Christianity to say that the purpose of the evolutionary process is to bring into existence not only humans but the entire bewildering array of creatures, each of whom in their own way reflect something of God’s glory. Humans, with our intelligence and potential for spiritual awareness, are one, but by no means the only, reflection of that glory.
(Link via John Schwenkler)
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Of wolf and man
Thanks to Jeremy for tipping me off to this review by John Gray of philosopher Mark Rowland’s new book The Philosopher and the Wolf.
Rowlands lived with a wolf he adopted for many years and learned lessons from him about what it meant to be happy and to be human. He also makes the provocative claim, with which Gray concurs, that, with humanity, a new possibility for evil enters the world, and that when humans are compared to wolves it’s the wolves who are getting the short end of the stick:
In evolutionary terms humans belong in the ape family, and if apes are intellectually superior to other animals it is because of their highly developed social intelligence. Some of the most valuable features of human life – science and the arts, for example – are only possible because of this intelligence. But it is also this type of intelligence that enables apes – some kinds of ape, at any rate – to engage in forms of behaviour that, when more fully developed, embody types of malignancy that are pre-eminently human. As Rowlands puts it: ‘When we talk about the superior intelligence of apes, we should bear in mind the terms of this comparison: apes are more intelligent than wolves because, ultimately, they are better schemers and deceivers than wolves.’ The ability to scheme and deceive requires a capacity to enter the minds of others, which other animals seem not to possess in anything like the same degree. But the human capacity for empathy brings something new into the world – a kind of malice aforethought, a delight in the pain of others that aims to reduce them to the condition of powerless victims.
Gray, that inveterate critic of optimistic rationalist humanism, likes to point out that, once you leave behind the metaphysics of Christianity, you really have very little solid ground to stand on in asserting the innate superiority of human beings to other animals. C.S. Lewis made a similar point in his writings on vivisection: if might makes right in justifying cutting up animals for our own benefit, why wouldn’t it also justify cutting up “defective” humans or class enemies or other races? In Lewis’s view, it was the Christian worldview that undergirds both justice for humans and mercy toward other animals.
(Incidentally, Rowlands’ Animals Like Us is one of the best introductions to animal rights issues I’ve read. It’s rigorous, but clear and straightforward.)