Søvik on moral anti-theodicy and begging the question

Søvik sets out to refute what he calls ‘moral critique of theodicy’, by which he means any critique that rejects theodical practice in general because of its alleged harmful consequences (479). The first thing to note about Søvik's view, then, is that it construes the ambit of moral anti-theodicy in rather narrow terms. On one hand, Søvik is certainly right to distinguish criticisms of the moral framework that is implicit in theodicies from claims about the moral propriety of theodicy. But having drawn this distinction, Søvik just equates the critique of theodicy's moral propriety with a consequentialist worry about the practical ramifications of theodicy. This is problematic, because one might think that theodical practice is immoral irrespective of its consequences. For example, some moral anti-theodicists claim that proponents of theodicy betray those individuals in our world who are victims of horrendous suffering. The wrongness of theodicy, according to this criticism, consists not in its harmful consequences, but in its lack of empathy and compassion for sufferers. The details of this objection could be cashed out in deontological terms (focusing on the theodicist's obligation to take the suffering of others seriously) or in virtue-ethical terms (focusing on the vices that are allegedly evinced in theodicy), but in either case a purely consequentialist account of theodicy's impropriety would not capture the objection's intent.Footnote ²

Moving along, Søvik rejects the consequentialist objection because, he argues, it begs the question against proponents of theodicy. When the anti-theodicist says that theodicies wreak harm in our world, Søvik thinks, she just assumes that the claims found in theodicies (claims about evil and goodness, how the former gives rise to the latter, how things will turn out in the long run, and so on) are false; for if the claims of theodicy are true, then consequences which appear to be bad may not be. Søvik illustrates his reply by discussing moral objections to Richard Swinburne's theodicy. On Swinburne's view, all evil is instrumental in the bringing about of greater goods; there is not a single pointless evil in our world.Footnote ³ Critics have rebuked Swinburne for the way his account misdeclares the true nature of evil, as though real evil is an illusion.Footnote ⁴ But as Søvik points out, this moral condemnation presupposes that the propositional content of Swinburne's account is false, even though the truth (or plausibility) of that propositional content is precisely what is at issue (480).

Søvik's argument here requires some clarification and development. For one thing, the example he uses to illustrate his view is not particularly apt. If Swinburne's theodicy does in fact call that which is evil ‘good’, then it is morally compromised regardless of its practical consequences. Those who critique Swinburne's theodicy on this front do beg the question against Swinburne in a sense, but it does not seem to me that the practical consequences of Swinburne's account is the point at issue.

So let's try to clarify the consequentialist critique and make sense of Søvik's response to it. According to moral anti-theodicists such as Terrence Tilley and Robert Mesle, theodicies tacitly sanction an acceptance of suffering and injustice, and thus they reinforce oppressive social structures. In other words, when theodicies posit evil as something that is ultimately for the good, they deter individuals and societies at large from working to overcome the sources of evil in our world. Theodicies tell us to tolerate suffering, these critics say, when we should oppose it.Footnote ⁵ In responding to such claims, theodicists would generally agree that the passive acceptance of evil is a further evil in itself, and that the encouragement of this way of thinking constitutes a harmful consequence for a discourse practice.Footnote ⁶

It does not seem to me, therefore, that moral anti-theodicy begs the question against theodicy by proposing standards of harm and benefit that theodicists reject. Where the consequentialist objection does beg the question against theodicy, I think, is in its presumption that destructive consequences like those described here are an inevitable result of theodicy. Maybe theodicy does sometimes lead to the problems these critics identify, but this can be explained in any number of ways. Perhaps the theodicies that have been devised so far are wrong, but there is a right theodicy out there that is yet to be devised and disseminated. Perhaps there already exists a right theodicy, but the wrong ones are more widely disseminated. In any case, it seems reasonable for the theodicist to suppose that if a plausible theodicy is in the offing, it will not only explain why there is evil in the world, but will also encourage a right moral orientation in our practical response to earthly evils. The consequentialist critique, however, rules this possibility out. As long as theodicies are espoused, the critique says, harmful consequences will follow.

Of course theodicists might just be mistaken. It might be that there isn't any plausible explanation for a perfectly good God's permission of evil, and thus it might be that the hope of a theodicy which supports a righteous response to suffering is in vain. But in order to show that this is the case, critics of theodicy must focus on the propositional content of theodicies, not the moral content. I think this is what Søvik has in mind when he says that the moral critique begs the question against theodicy. In seeking to rebut this critique, Søvik emphasizes the relevance of the truth (or what it is reasonable to believe to be true) in relation to moral judgements. On Søvik's view, if one is trying to determine whether or not theodicy is a viable enterprise ‘one must enter the debate about what is true … one cannot just presuppose something else to be true, and then dismiss [theodicy] as immoral on that basis’ (481).

The relevance of context

As well as begging the question, Søvik thinks the moral critique of theodicy puts too much emphasis on the impropriety of espousing a theodicy in certain contexts. For Søvik, just because it would be an awful blunder to offer a theodicy as consolation to someone mourning the death of a family member, it does not follow that it is always and everywhere wrong to espouse a theodicy. There are at least some cases, Søvik says, when questions like ‘Why did this happen?’ or ‘Where was God?’ are posited as theoretical questions and are asked by someone in the hope of finding a plausible theoretical answer. If the theist decides not to respond to theoretical questions of this kind for fear that her views may be hurtful or insensitive when considered in other contexts, then, Søvik suggests, she might as well stop talking altogether (482).

It should be noted on this issue that the distinction Søvik recognizes between theoretical questions about evil on one hand, and practical or existential questions about evil on the other, is one that some anti-theodicists explicitly reject. The reason for their doing so is not, as Søvik says, simply a worry that the theoretical answers might be recalled by someone during a practical crisis and somehow worsen their situation. Rather, for anti-theodicists like Kenneth Surin, purely theoretical replies to the problem of evil just fail to address the problem. On Surin's view, evil is not merely a fact about the world that theists have to explain; rather, evil is by its nature an existential challenge. The important questions for Surin, then, are practical ones: e.g. How can someone maintain hope and worship God, given this world's evils? To treat evil as data and nothing more, Surin would say, is to ignore the real problem it gives rise to.Footnote ⁷

Theodicists in general reject Surin's approach (and their reasons for doing so may seem reasonable enough)Footnote ⁸ but my point is just that the moral critique in this instance hinges on a separate issue, namely, whether or not the distinction between the practical and theoretical problems of evil is a legitimate one. If the moral critique asserts without argument that the distinction is spurious, then defenders of theodicy like Søvik can respond in kind. But insofar as he aims to rebut the moral critique, a theodical apologist like Søvik should at least acknowledge the relevant dispute, if not go on to provide a brief indication as to why he believes that the practical/theoretical distinction should be maintained in discussions of the problem of evil.

Regardless of his view on the practical/theoretical distinction, Søvik's reply to the contextual objection could still be tempered somewhat. Søvik believes ‘we cannot judge a proposition in general on its possible consequences’, because possible consequences are too vague (482). So even if a theodicy T nearly always leads to harmful consequences, that is not by itself reason enough to abandon T on moral grounds. ‘What is morally wrong’ Søvik says, ‘is to use [theodical] ideas for doing something immoral, but the statements themselves are not immoral’ (482). But surely this depends to some extent on what T has to say. Even if the issue of plausibility is prior to the question of propriety, there are clearly some theodicies that are morally indefensible no matter what context they are put forward in, and no matter how carefully they are related.

For instance, what if I were to say that God is justified in allowing natural disasters because He finds them to be entertaining? The problem with a theodicy that invokes such a claim is not just that it is false or highly implausible. The problem rather, is that the central claim is positively amoral. Commonly espoused theodicies may not be as ludicrous as the one I have suggested here, but then some moral anti-theodicists think that the difference between my example and those in the literature is one of degree rather than kind. At any rate, if someone presented my theodicy of natural disasters in all seriousness, I'm certain Søvik would not want to say that the ideas themselves are not immoral, just the use of those ideas to do something wrong.

In contrast to Søvik's approach, then, I think that defenders of theodicy should join with the moral anti-theodicist in saying that some theodicies are so obscene or insensitive that they are a wrong to espouse in every context. For even if this point is granted, the moral critique of theodicy will still have to somehow establish that all theodicies are always inappropriate, if it purports to substantiate a global rejection of theodical practice. Søvik says that just because it is immoral to espouse a true (or plausible) theodicy in certain situations, it is not always wrong to advocate that view. He may be right, but the defender of theodicy can offer a more modest claim: just because some theodicies are wrong to espouse in any given context, this does not mean that all theodicies are always inappropriate in the same way.

Legitimate uses for the moral critique of theodicy

In arguing that the theodical enterprise fails because theodicies have harmful effects, proponents of the moral critique implicitly rule out the possibility that there is a theodicy whose claims about God and evil are plausible. The moral critic may think that some theodicies are morally indefensible, but she cannot proceed with a global rejection of theodicy by assuming that every possible theodicy is similarly defective. It seems, then, that a moral critique of theodicy cannot substantiate a total dismissal of theodicy's viability. But is Søvik right to say, in light of this conclusion, that the moral critique is irrelevant in relation to the problem of evil? (481). Contra Søvik, I think moral objections to theodicy can play a significant role in this discourse.

Firstly, the moral critique draws attention to the possibility that theodicies are conceptually (or otherwise) dubious. When we read the theodicies propounded by John Hick, Swinburne, Eleonore Stump, and others, we see a disquietingly positive attitude towards suffering. All of these writers want to say that evil is real, and that it is genuinely evil, but then all of them want to say that it would be bad (in some sense) if God were to prevent the evils in our world. We might say, then, that theodicies involve a ‘proxy endorsement’ of the evils in our world. Now, just because this proxy endorsement of evil is at odds with prevailing attitudes about evil (e.g. most of us think that a world without acute leukaemia would be better than the one we live in), the critic cannot dismiss theodicies on this basis alone; for she cannot just assume that the claims upon which theodicy's proxy endorsement of evil is based (e.g. claims concerning God's will, the afterlife, the history of humankind, and so on) are false.

But what the critic can do, and perhaps what she ought to do, is adopt a strongly critical stance towards the propositions and/or philosophical assumptions upon which theodical discourse is predicated. For if an acceptance of these propositions and assumptions steers the theodicist towards a view that undermines our usual unreflective value judgements (e.g. a world without acute leukaemia would be a better world than the one we live in) then it is reasonable enough for the critic to suspect that either the propositions or the assumptions (or both) are untenable.Footnote ⁹ The critique of theodicy which she goes on to develop cannot simply insist that the foundations of theodicy fail; rather, it must explain in what way the relevant propositions and/or assumptions are untenable. But even so, the epistemic value of the moral critique remains. Even if the anti-theodicist ultimately rejects theodicy because she sees in it a meta-ethical or theological incoherence, it may be that the foremost factor in her coming to regard theodical practice as a doomed enterprise was its moral contentiousness.

The second legitimate purpose that the moral critique can serve, in my view, is to provide an auxiliary argument in a non-moral global critique of theodicy. Thus, to continue an example from a previous paragraph, suppose the critic aims to show that theodicies in general fail because they predicate an incoherent theology. Having argued her point, the critic might note that in addition to conceptual problems that arise from theodicy's view of God, theodicy also unavoidably involves some kind of proxy endorsement of evil. So, the critic might argue, if someone offers a theodicy in reply to the problem of evil, then he not only tells an incoherent story about God, he also tells a story whose dubious moral calibre could only be defended if it were the case that his incoherent story about God was both coherent and plausible. Clearly, in an argument like this the moral critique will be secondary to the theological critique, but that does not mean it will be entirely irrelevant, as Søvik suggests. It is one thing for the critic to claim that the theodicist offers an erroneous account, but it is quite another thing, I think, if the critic purports to say that the theodicist's account is both erroneous and morally unacceptable because of its erroneousness.