Alexander R. Pruss

Our paper ‘A new cosmological argument’ gave an argument for the existence of God making use of the weak Principle of Sufficient Reason (W-PSR) which states that for every proposition p, if p is true, then it is possible that there is an explanation for p. Recently, Graham Oppy, as well as Kevin Davey and Rob Clifton, have criticized the argument. We reply to these criticisms. The most interesting kind of criticism in both papers alleges that the W-PSR can be justifiably denied by the atheist, and constitutes no improvement on the strong Principle of Sufficient Reason (S-PSR) which claims that every true proposition in fact has an explanation. The criticism is predicated on the fact that it can be shown that the W-PSR entails the S-PSR. We argue that the W-PSR's plausibility remains despite the criticisms. From this it can be seen to follow that the entailment relation between the W-PSR and the S-PSR gives one reason to believe the S-PSR.

The cosmos is filled with evil that seemingly has no redeeming value. Granted, some evils do lead to greater goods, sometimes goods that could not exist without the evils. Thus, the exercise of courage is a good that requires either an actual evil to stand firm in the face of or the illusion of an evil—and an illusion is a kind of evil, too. But many evils appear to serve no such purpose. Philosophers call an evil that a supremely good God would have insufficient reason to permit to exist a gratuitous evil. A particularly powerful form of the argument from evil against the existence of the God of Western monotheism is, thus, that there..

          The production of a number of vaccines involves the use of cell-lines originally derived from fetuses directly aborted in the 1960s and 1970s. Such cell-lines, indeed sometimes the very same ones, are important to on-going research, including at Catholic institutions. The cells currently used are removed by a number of decades and by a significant number of cellular generations from the original cells. Moreover, the original cells extracted from the bodies of the aborted fetuses were transformed to produce the cell lines, since otherwise they would be incapable of the kind of culturing that is required.           It is generally acknowledged by ethicists, including many Catholic ones generally considered to be orthodox, and by the U.S. bishops, that the use of the cell-lines in connection with the production of vaccines is morally permissible. It does not appear that there is a relevant qualitative difference between the use of the cell-lines in vaccines and in research. One might argue that there is certainty of benefit from a vaccine while the benefits of research are uncertain. However, in any given case of the administration of a vaccine to an individual, it is far from certain that such administration will be of benefit to that individual. After all, the individual might never come in contact with someone infected with the disease in question, particularly if the disease is now uncommon in the individual’s locale. Yet, it is morally certain that some of the administrations of the vaccine will be beneficial. This is parallel to the fact that while any one research project might not be beneficial, the history of biomedical research makes it extremely probable, indeed morally certain, that some project involving the use of such cell-lines will be beneficial. There may, of course, be quantitative difference between the cases—the probabilities and benefits may not be equal—but the difference does not seem to be a qualitative one. Therefore, if one accepts the use of the cell-lines in vaccines, one should accept the use in research in at least some conceivable and perhaps actual circumstances.           The main argument I am interested in in favor of the use of the cell-lines proceeds by first granting that the initial abortion and extraction of cells from the deceased fetus was morally gravely illicit. However, the connection between the currently used derived cells and the abortion and original derivation is sufficiently remote that the use becomes licit. Not all fruit of a poisoned tree is poisoned: it can be morally....

Case 1 (transplant) . You are a surgeon doing an appendectomy on Fred, who is otherwise healthy. You know from his file that, just by chance, his heart, lungs, bone marrow, liver and two kidneys are a perfect match for fifteen patients in your hospital who need various organs or bone marrow, of both of which there is a severe shortage of these organs; Fred, however, has refused to donate anything. If the fifteen patients do not receive the transplants today, they will die. You skillfully use your scalpel to kill Fred in such a way that no one can tell it was no accident, and you use his organs to save fifteen patients. One dead, fifteen innocent people saved.

The pseudonymous author of this article argues that neither Kierkegaard nor Climacus in the Concluding Unscientific Postscript are claiming that Christian beliefs are nonsense or contradictory, but that it is contrary to universal epistemic norms to believe these beliefs or even to believe they can be believed. In an appendix for which the rest of the article is a preparation the author gives an interpretation of the pseudonymity and form-content contradiction and of how Kierkegaard in a sense agrees with all the assertions made in the Postscript. If Kierkegaard is right, this article could only have been written pseudonymously.

This important philosophical reflection on love and sexuality from a broadly Christian perspective is aimed at philosophers, theologians, and educated Christian readers. Alexander R. Pruss focuses on foundational questions on the nature of romantic love and on controversial questions in sexual ethics on the basis of the fundamental idea that romantic love pursues union of two persons as one body. _One Body_ begins with an account, inspired by St. Thomas Aquinas, of the general nature of love as constituted by components of goodwill, appreciation, and unitiveness. Different forms of love, such as parental, collegial, filial, friendly, fraternal, or romantic, Pruss argues, differ primarily not in terms of goodwill or appreciation but in terms of the kind of union that is sought. Pruss examines romantic love as distinguished from other kinds of love by a focus on a particular kind of union, a deep union as one body achieved through the joint biological striving of the sort involved in reproduction. Taking the account of the union that romantic love seeks as a foundation, the book considers the nature of marriage and applies its account to controversial ethical questions, such as the connection between love, sex, and commitment and the moral issues involving contraception, same-sex activity, and reproductive technology. With philosophical rigor and sophistication, Pruss provides carefully argued answers to controversial questions in Christian sexual ethics. "This is a terrific—really quite extraordinary—work of scholarship. It is quite simply the best work on Christian sexual ethics that I have seen. It will become the text that anyone who ventures into the field will have to grapple with—a kind of touchstone. Moreover, it is filled with arguments with which even secular writers on sexual morality will have to engage and come to terms." —_Robert P. George, Princeton University __ "_One Body_ is an excellent piece of philosophical-theological reflection on the nature of sexuality and marriage. This book has the potential to become a standard go-to text for professors and students working on sex ethics issues, whether in philosophy or theology, both for the richness of its arguments, and the scope of its coverage of cases. " — Christopher Tollefsen, University of South Carolina_ "Alexander Pruss here develops sound and humane answers to the whole range of main questions about human sexual and reproductive choices. His principal argument for the key answers is very different from the one I have articulated over the past fifteen years. But his argumentation is at every point attractively direct, careful, energetic in framing and responding to objections, and admirably attentive to realities and the human goods at stake." —_John Finnis, University of Oxford _

“We are always already thrown into concrete factual circumstances, facing possibilities that we need to come to grips with. By choosing some we exclude others, thus making them no longer possible. What we are thrown into is the past and present, and the possibilities loom ahead of us, though we may try to turn our back on them. The future is the home of the possibilities while the present and past define the circumstances in which we make our choices, circumstances we can no longer affect.” Or so we might say, and there is something right about this way of talking. Our basic conception of ourselves as agents is radically temporally asymmetric. And so we adopt asymmetric metaphors for time: we talk of time having a direction, as flowing from the future, through the present, to the past, closing possibilities that once were open; or perhaps we think of time as a measure of our own movement from the past to the future. Such metaphors are of very limited value. To think of time as having a direction spatializes time; to think of time as flowing or of ourselves as moving in time is to invite the question of how fast it is flowing or how fast we are moving (at one second per second, perhaps, one might quip, thereby inviting the question of why it cannot flow at two seconds per second instead).             Although the metaphors are flawed, we need to come to grips with an inextricable asymmetry between past and future in them. As agents, we deliberate about the future, while the past we can only bewail or rejoice over. We know the future not only through theoretical knowledge, but also through the intentional knowledge that the agent has of the effects she intends to produce. We think a life that started in years of sorrow but ended in great joy is preferable to one that started with a great joy and ended in years of sorrow..