Thomas Talbott

What is free will and do humans possess it? While these questions appear simple they have tied some of our greatest minds in knots over the millennia. This little book seeks to clarify for an audience of educated non-specialists some of the issues that often arise in philosophical disputes over the existence and the nature of human free will. Beyond that, it proposes a particular solution to the puzzles. Many philosophers have argued that free will is incompatible with determinism, and many have also argued that it is incompatible with indeterminism. So, is free will simply an incoherent concept? Talbott argues that the best way out of this quagmire requires that we come to appreciate why certain conditions essential to our emergence as free moral agents--conditions such as indeterminism, ignorance, and a context of ambiguity and misperception--are themselves obstacles to a fully realized freedom. For a fully realized freedom requires that, as minimally rational individuals, we have learned some important lessons for ourselves; and once these lessons have been learned, some of our freest choices may be such that we could not have chosen otherwise because so choosing would then seem to us utterly unthinkable and irrational.

In my paper, I defend a view that many would regard as self-evidently false: the view that God’s freedom, his power to act, is in no way limited by his essential properties. I divide the paper into five sections. In section i, I call attention to a special class of non-contingent propositions and try to identify an important feature of these propositions; in section ii, I provide some initial reasons. based in part upon the unique features of these special propositions, for thinking that God does have the power to perform actions which his essential properties entail he will never perform; in section iii, I call into question the assumption that a person has the power to do something only if it is logically possible that he will exercise that power; and, finally, in sections iv and v, I try to specify a sense in which divine freedom and the kind of human freedom required by the Free will Defense are in fact the same kind of freedom.

I begin with an inconsistent set of three propositions, each of which has the following characteristic: We can find prima facie support for it in the Bible. I then classify theologians according to which proposition they reject, and I identify three different pictures of God: the Augustinian picture, the Arminian picture, and the universalist picture. Finally, I explore some hermeneutical problems and suggest a way in which those who hold the universalist picture might interpret some of the texts upon which the doctrine of eternal punishment has traditionally rested.

Such was the innocent mind that first encountered The Problem of Pain and was exposed, for the first time, to the world of philosophical theology. Reading ",.- the book was like eating forbidden fruit; it was exhilarating but also a bit fright- ..„;, ening. For one thing, the book actually contained arguments, even arguments",,-" about God, and more importantly the arguments seemed to make sense! At the ".,'-„. small fundamentalist high school I attended, I had, to be sure, encountered ";!,' arguments before. One of my teachers had argued that, during the last days, the", stars will quite literally fall upon the earth; and when a friend of mine suggested';; that a single star would consume the earth long before striking it, he was se-,'I„

I begin with an inconsistent set of three propositions, each of which has the following characteristic: We can find prima facie support for it in the Bible. I then classify theologians according to which proposition they reject, and I identify three different pictures of God: the Augustinian picture, the Arminian picture, and the universalist picture. Finally, I explore some hermeneutical problems and suggest a way in which those who hold the universalist picture might interpret some of the texts upon which the doctrine of eternal punishment has traditionally rested.

I begin with an inconsistent set of three propositions, each of which has the following characteristic: We can find prima facie support for it in the Bible. I then classify theologians according to which proposition they reject, and I identify three different pictures of God: the Augustinian picture, the Arminian picture, and the universalist picture. Finally, I explore some hermeneutical problems and suggest a way in which those who hold the universalist picture might interpret some of the texts upon which the doctrine of eternal punishment has traditionally rested.

A generalization about religious belief to which there are, I believe, few exceptions is this: The more confident one is in one's religious beliefs, the more willing one is to subject those beliefs to careful scrutiny; the less confident one is in them – the more one unconsciously fears that they cannot withstand such scrutiny – the more eager one is to find a device that would appear to protect them from careful scrutiny. And, more often than not, such a protective device will include an assault upon human reason

According to some theists, God will never completely destroy moral evil or banish it from his creation entirely; instead, he will eventually confine moral evil to a specific region of his creation, a region known as hell, and those condemned to hell, having no hope of escape from it, will live out eternity in a state of estrangement from God as well as from each other. Let us call that the traditional doctrine of hell. Elsewhere I have argued that any form of theism which includes such a doctrine, even one that tries to preserve consistency by denying the universal love of God, is in fact logically inconsistent. But moderately conservative theists, as I have called them, have an argument for the traditional doctrine that some have found convincing, one that emphasizes libertarian free will. The argument is this. Because God is perfectly loving, he wills the good for every created person and wills the redemption of all who have fallen into evil; but because he has also given his loved ones the gift of freedom and some of them in fact exercise their freedom to reject him forever, it is simply not within his power, even as an omnipotent being, to redeem all of those who fall into evil. According to moderately conservative theists, therefore, the following hypothesis, which I shall call the Rejection Hypothesis , is at least possibly true: Some persons will, despite God's best efforts to save them, freely and irrevocably reject God and thus separate themselves from God forever

This is a study of the problem of hell, which is an especially difficult form of the problem of evil. Many religious traditions postulate a final separation between the righteous and the unrighteous, between those who receive eternal life and those who do not. If some never receive eternal life, but are instead either annihilated or eternally estranged from God, that would seem to be a purely gratuitous evil; as Kvanvig points out, such evil could in no way be "redressed by further good, at any rate, not by future good". So for these religious traditions, the question is acute: How could such gratuitous evil exist in a universe that an omnipotent and perfectly loving God supposedly governs?

In an article that I wrote back in 1987,1 I sought to make some ideas then current in the philosophical literature available to a wider audience of non-philosophers. I was also very hard on John Beversluis, author of C.S. Lewis and the Search for Ra- tional Religion (1985), and even implied, perhaps with less charity than I should have manifested, that his treatment of the problem of evil failed to meet even minimal standards of philosophical competence. I fully expected, therefore, that his response, as set forth in the 2007 revision of his book, would be less than perfectly warm and welcoming. But when, at the behest of others, I finally got around to reading that response, I was stunned. For what I encountered was an amazing disregard for logical rigor, some appallingly bad arguments, and an even more appalling ignorance of the current philosophical literature on the problem of evil

I believe that Craig's arguments for the possibility of (DT) are important for two reasons: first, because the line he takes, though unsuccessful in my opinion, is the most plausible (or least implausible) line available; and second, because he sets forth with startling clarity some of the propositions that someone who takes this line must be willing to accept. But in the end, I shall argue, he not only fails to establish that (DT) is possible; he also fails in the lesser task of trying to undermine my own argument that (DT) is impossible. Although Craig nowhere gives formal shape it, his argument for the possibility of (DT) seems to run something like this: He first insists that certain propositions other than (DT) are possible in the broadly logical sense, and he then tries to deduce the possibility of (DT) from these other possibilities; that is, he casts about for some proposition p - perhaps a conjunction of several propositions - that will enable him to argue as follows: (1) p entails (DT). (2) p is possible in the broadly logical sense. (3) Therefore, (DT) is also possible in the broadly logical sense. And, of course, the challenge he faces in defending such an argument is this: If, for some p, he..