2. Can Avicenna’s Argument in Ilāhīyyāt IX.6 Be Construed as a Theodicy?

There is a significant gap between Avicenna’s conception of divine providence and SVP. This gap arises primarily from the fact that SVP attributes to God a form of knowledge, power, and goodness that is evocative and responsive.Footnote ⁴ A central illustration of these commitments can be found in the standard understanding of prayer. It is difficult to find believers within the Abrahamic traditions who, when praying, do not assume God to have a sympathetic ear — one who can be evoked by their supplication, guiding them or altering the state of affairs in a way that manifests God’s fulfilment of their prayers.

Yet such an expectation regarding divine knowledge and power already presupposes a particular conception of divine goodness: God’s goodness is taken to ground moral obligations on God — obligations of benevolence, mercy, and care. These obligations, in turn, presuppose the possibility of His being affected by the states of creatures and acting for their sake. Sympathy requires perceptual awareness and affective change. The crucial point is that, according to this account of providence, God not only possesses a caring feature toward all creatures on the basis of His goodness and benevolence, but His omnipotence and omniscience are also taken to impose a moral obligation upon Him.

A well-known Quranic narrative vividly embodies this conception: Abraham in the fire. When Abraham is cast into the flames, God’s absolute knowledge is taken to require immediate awareness of this particular event; His goodness, mercy, and caring feature toward His creatures are assumed to move Him, upon such awareness, to be affected and to sympathize with Abraham; and His absolute power is presumed to make it possible for the fire — whose natural property is to burn — to become cool and harmless for Abraham.Footnote ⁵

Avicenna’s explanation in the Taʿlīqāt of what makes prayer effective further clarifies how his view departs from SVP.Footnote ⁶ What brings about the fulfilment of a prayer is not that a servant addresses God with a request and that God, moved by sympathy or compassion, is affected by this address and intervenes to alter the natural course of events in accordance with the petitioner’s desire. For the true cause is never affected by its effect; if it were, the order of causation would be reversed. For Avicenna, the mode of the soul of the petitioner is itself part of the natural process that leads to the event in question. In other words, every natural occurrence has a natural counterfactual correlate; thus, in this case as well, had the petitioner’s mode of soul not been present, the requested event would not have occurred. God’s role in this causal process is to assign the cause of the occurrence of x to the prayer of A — or, more precisely, to A’s determinate mode of soul.

Avicenna himself employs an example to explain the inevitability of certain evils in the world — an example that, interestingly, mirrors the story of Abraham in the fire. On Avicenna’s hylomorphism, fire burns because its form is essentially active, and a garment, unless impeded, is essentially receptive to the form of fire. When the garment of a noble person (raǧul šarīf) comes sufficiently close to the flame, it necessarily ignites, and the burning continues until the garment loses its own form and acquires that of fire. Thus, the destruction of a noble person by fire is a necessary consequence of the elemental constitution of material beings. Such events are not contingent gaps to be filled by divine intervention but necessary outcomes of natural essences (Ilāhīyyāt IX.6.9 (418), Ilāhīyyāt IX.6.16 (420)). Accordingly, the intelligible way to explain the cooling of the fire for Abraham is that, as a purified soul (nafs zakīyyah), he possessed a divine faculty that enabled him, upon falling into the fire, to act upon the elements (bearing in mind that, for Avicenna, the elements can under certain conditions be transformed into one another).Footnote ⁷ It is this specific mode of his soul that brings about the alteration of the fire.

The case of prayer thus provides a concrete illustration of the difference between Avicenna’s conception of providence and that of SVP. At least one conclusion is clear: The Necessary Existence exhibits none of the caring features toward creatures that SVP presupposes; any discussion of God’s supposed moral obligation becomes vacuous, for there is no subject of “care” in the SVP sense about which one could ask whether God’s concern is morally appropriate.Footnote ⁸ Nor does God possess knowledge of things other than Himself in the way SVP expects. Regardless of whether the Necessary Existence knows particulars, or how He knows particulars universally, there is simply no room for the evocative-responsive kind of knowledge envisioned by SVP.Footnote ⁹ Likewise, God’s absolute power does not satisfy the expectations of an SVP believer. For such a believer, divine omnipotence appears satisfactory only if it can override any counterfactual whatsoever — fire must, while remaining fire, cease to burn; otherwise, if it is no longer fire, then of course it does not burn.

This preliminary clarification is essential if we are to avoid imposing a contemporary reading on Avicenna’s argument in Ilāhīyyāt IX.6. In particular, we cannot understand Avicenna’s account of the existence of evil in the world as a theodicy in the standard modern sense. The existence of evil and suffering in the world naturally challenges both God’s caring feature and, more specifically, His supposed moral obligation. It then falls to the defender of SVP to provide a moral justification for God — one that secures God’s caring feature and His moral goodness; in other words, a “theodicy” that aims to show that, despite governing all aspects of existence, God has not abandoned justice, mercy, or fairness toward His servants. Yet, as the case of prayer already demonstrated, the nature of the Necessary Existence — precisely because it excludes any caring feature toward what is other than Himself — precludes the very possibility that His actions are ruled by moral norms. Avicenna himself draws attention to this point at the very beginning of Ilāhīyyāt IX.6:

Having a caring feature toward anything requires the possibility of acting for the sake of its good, whereas the Necessary Existence is, in the most fundamental sense, teleologically independent of what is other than Himself. No aspect of His actuality can be oriented toward anything for the sake of anything beyond His own essence.

3. Avicenna on God’s Providence: From Divine Self-Reflection to Holistic Purposivism

So far, I have argued that Avicenna adopts a conception of providence different from SVP. Yet, this does not resolve the problem; rather, it introduces a deeper interpretive difficulty. It is true that Avicenna’s metaphysics appears to rule out any creature-directed purposive action on the part of a being that is pure actuality, and thus forecloses any theodical interpretation in its moral justification sense. But it is Avicenna himself who, in Ilāhīyyāt IX.6, devotes an entire chapter to explaining the existence of evil. At first glance, however, one might wonder: If God is not morally obliged, then why should there be any need to justify the existence of evil in the world? A plausible answer is metaphysical: If God, as the first principle of all beings, is pure good, then evil — if it were a positive entity — could not be explained through its opposite. A purely good cause can only ground what is good, insofar as it is good. The existence of positive evils would thus threaten Avicenna’s monotheism by requiring an opposed evil principle. Avicenna’s explicit aim in IX.6 is to block precisely this dualist conclusion by arguing that no contrary principle exists alongside the good.Footnote ¹¹ Although this answer fits well with his privation-theory strategy, it cannot — as I see it — account for the greater-good argument that Avicenna advances in Ilāhīyyāt IX.6. If there is no positive evil in the world, then what sense is there in saying — however artificially — that certain goods outweigh others? I will return to this issue in the final section.

Beyond this, there is an even more fundamental problem: If Avicenna denies that God performs actions for the sake of creatures, why does he nonetheless employ caring terminology — providence (ʿināyah), administration (tadbīr), generosity (ǧūd) (Ilāhīyyāt VI.5.48 (298)), even love (ʿišq) (Ilāhīyyāt VIII.7.15–18 (368–370)) — to describe God’s relation to the world? These terms seem to presuppose a purpose directed toward something other than God. And this is in fact precisely the issue with which Avicenna opens Ilāhīyyāt IX.6. A moment earlier I quoted the first part of this riddle; he then continues:

Avicenna’s aporetic riddle makes one point unmistakably clear: There must be something that is the object of divine intention, yet that “something” is not the welfare or good of particular individuals but rather the wondrous order of the cosmos itself. If there were no administration behind this order to secure its persistence and permanence, then the world would be as it is purely by chance — and, in that case, what room would there be for the necessitarian epistemology of the Posterior Analytics in the Burhān?

But here two major difficulties arise. First, divine activity must intend the persistence and permanence of the world’s order without compromising His independence with respect to final causality. A natural solution would be to say that God’s intending His own essence is identical with His intending the whole that proceeds from Him. Yet Avicenna’s actual view is different: The production of the whole is concomitant with His self-knowledge, not identical with it. The central problem, then, is how the Necessary Existence’s intending His own simple essence can give rise to a whole that is multiple and composite.

Avicenna resolves this by distinguishing between the per se purpose of an action and its per accidens consequences.Footnote ¹³ God’s only per se object is His own essence, yet the nature of His self-purposive act yields an ordered sequence of purposes as a necessary consequence. Avicenna calls this the “order of the good” (niẓām al-ẖayr),Footnote ¹⁴ the eternal structure of the cosmos mediated through the intellects and their causal effects.Footnote ¹⁵

This framework provides the basis for what I call Avicenna’s “holistic purposivism.” My inspiration for this term comes from Tim Mulgan’s Purpose in the Universe.Footnote ¹⁶ There, with a meta-ethical program in mind, he proposes an alternative metaphysical framework to the long-standing controversy over the inconsistency between a benevolent God and the existence of evil. Traditional theism, as we saw in the previous section, takes God’s benevolence for granted in a crucial sense: The purpose of God’s being benevolent is the human being, and it presupposes an anthropocentric purposivism. Thus, the problem of evil directly challenges this anthropocentric assumption. Mulgan, given his meta-ethical commitments, suggests a via media: There is a purpose — and therefore a purposive act — in the universe (in accordance with traditional theism), but this purpose is not the human being (in accordance with atheism). He calls this approach “ananthropocentric purposivism.”

Interestingly, on my interpretation, Avicenna offers a detailed version of ananthropocentric purposivism.Footnote ¹⁷ Here, on the one hand, by acknowledging a providential role for God, he clearly affirms a divine purposive act; and, on the other hand, as I will argue below, he denies that the object of this act is something other than God’s divine essence. The difference, however, is that Avicenna specifies what the purpose is — or, more precisely, the hierarchy of purposes within the universe. I will therefore proceed by addressing the following question: What exactly is the purpose in the universe? I will then conclude by presenting an overview of Avicenna’s conception of evil in Ilāhīyyāt IX.6, in order to clarify how one can speak of a providential God as a non-caring principle, and how Avicenna grapples with the problem of evil in that chapter.

4. Avicenna’s Own Problem of Evil

Up to this point, HP shifts the perspective that defined good and evil in relation to the perfection of particular beings toward one that defines them in relation to the good of the whole. In other words, it has shown that God’s governance of the world is constrained not by moral obligations but by rational ones — much in the way that desiring a particular end rationally commits one to accepting the necessary conditions for attaining it. (It should be emphasized that these constraints derive entirely from the intrinsic goodness of the divine essence, rather than from anything externally imposed upon God.) And this clearly leaves no room for the standard problem of evil to arise within this framework. The question, however, is how the existence of evils becomes a problem within this framework, one that compels Avicenna to offer an extended justification. Avicenna is not especially helpful here: Immediately after defining divine providence, he launches — somewhat laboriously — into three attemptsFootnote ³⁰ to clarify how his account explains the existence of evils.

Yet there is a crucial point embedded in his definition of providence that resolves the difficulty. In conceptualizing providence, Avicenna appeals to knowledge and satisfaction (riḍā), which — as noted above — frame providence primarily in decision-theoretic rather than morally sovereign terms. Still, God’s knowledge of, and satisfaction with, the order of goodness that proceeds from Him also entails knowledge of, and satisfaction with, certain limitations. (Avicenna emphasizes three times in this definition that the order of the good is realized “in terms of possibility” through God’s knowledge of His own essence.) It is as though the order of the good that issues from the perfect divine essence is not itself entirely perfect, but includes certain imperfections. This naturally raises the question: Why should a perfect essence, precisely insofar as it is perfect, produce effects that are imperfect? And, from a rational point of view, why should God accept — indeed, be satisfied with — such deficiencies?

For reasons of space, I cannot pursue Avicenna’s argumentative line in full detail here. Inati has already undertaken that task — though from a theodical perspective that I have been resisting throughout this article. Instead, by appealing to Avicenna’s own favoured example,Footnote ³¹ I will try to show that what he aims to explain is that the existing world, despite the evils it contains, is from a rational, rather than a moral, point of view is entirely acceptable. Before the argument is presented, it promises two advantages. First, it confirms the decision-theoretic approach I have employed thus far. Second, it aligns with the problem Avicenna himself raises at the beginning of Ilāhīyyāt IX.6, namely that the order of the world requires divine governance.

Suppose a noble person who, had he followed the natural course of his life, would have become a great physicist — one capable of solving the problem of quantum gravity by formulating a theory of everything. At the age of 22, having fallen in love, he inexplicably provokes the envy of an intelligence officer. The officer, through a brutal act of sabotage, arranges for the young man’s car to explode when he starts it. He survives, but with severe burns. His face is disfigured; the woman he loves abandons him. He becomes deeply sorrowful and depressed, and he entirely relinquishes his scientific ambitions, convinced that life is not worth any serious effort.

This example contains several paradigmatic instances of evil: an injustice that inflicts gratuitous bodily suffering; a profound emotional devastation; the ruin of an honourable life; the production of a false and destructive belief in a virtuous person; and the loss of a significant public good (the theory of everything). Now, if one approaches Ilāhīyyāt IX.6 with the theodical assumptions discussed above, Avicenna will deliver a harsh surprise: Not only does the Necessary Existence take no notice of any of these evils, He pays no heed to their occurrenceFootnote ³² — a repugnant picture of God for any conscience that expects perfect benevolence and moral goodness from Him. Yet Avicenna had already made it clear from the outset that such expectations are simply inapplicable to the Necessary Existence.

To understand why these evils are of no significance, we must consider the ontological status of the noble person within the framework of HP.Footnote ³³ According to HP, the per se purpose at stake here is the preservation of the human species, a preservation achieved through an unending sequence of generation and corruption among individual human beings. Now, even if this particular noble person had not existed, many of his contemporaries would still have produced offspring, thereby ensuring the continuation of the species. Once the existence of this particular human substance is not necessary for the survival of the species, there is no basis for assigning importance to the contingent states that befall him — states that do not contribute in any way even to his own specific perfection, let alone to the survival of the species.

To put the point differently: From the decision-theoretic perspective I have been developing, a genuine problem would arise only if the organized structure of human life — what Avicenna calls the “primary perfections” (Ilāhīyyāt IX.6.8 (417:17)) — were disrupted in such a way that the preservation of the human species was placed at risk. Consider, for example, a hypothetical case in which the human genome was so configured that human beings were regularly born blind. Although sight — what Avicenna classifies as a “secondary perfection” — is not, taken individually, necessary for human life, its systematic removal across the natural history of the species would very likely pose a serious threat to the survival of humankind. Of course, we should recall that Avicenna had no conception of the extinction of species:

Accordingly, true evil would obtain only where the preservation of the species-level order of the world was endangered.Footnote ³⁴ But, as I explained in the previous section, such a scenario is impossible within Avicenna’s metaphysical system. Thus, in the case of the noble person, the only thing that could count as a genuine evil is the loss — through the actualization of fire — of organs necessary for their continued lives. Avicenna concedes that such evils may be numerous, but nature does not, regularly or for the most part, cast human beings into fire in a way that would disrupt the preservation of the species, which is the per se purpose at stake (Ilāhīyyāt IX.6.17 (420:13–15)).Footnote ³⁵

By contrast, evils such as suffering injustice, losing one’s beauty, or acquiring a corrupting belief do not in any way jeopardize the existence of the human species. The goods opposed to these evils belong, for Avicenna, to the order of supererogatory beneficence (min bāb al-faḍl wa-z-ziādah) — a surplus beyond the primary perfections (such as life and sight) that secure the survival of the species (Ilāhīyyāt IX.6.25 (422:18), IX.6.8 (417:9–15)).

The answer to the question of why God did not create a world in which such evils never arise ultimately returns to HP itself. No good is realized unless that upon which it is purposively grounded is realized as its concomitants — “if there were not the latter, there would not be the formers” (Ilāhīyyāt IX.6.23 (422)). Just as no habitation can exist without the building, the materials, and the architect, so too the concomitants of the divine essence’s goodness must be realized along with that essence. Among these concomitants are the natural species under the lunar sphere. The being-purposed of these species entails, in turn, the being-purposed of their material individuals; and the being-purposed of these material individuals further entails the being-purposed of the four elements — elements that include fire. And fire is fire only insofar as it burns; if something is combustible and sufficiently near it, it will be burned.Footnote ³⁶

Avicenna also deploys HP dialectically against the objector (Ilāhīyyāt IX.6.24–25 (422)):Footnote ³⁷ It would contradict divine generosity for God to be able to create a world and yet refrain from doing so, contenting Himself with His own existence alone (Ilāhīyyāt VI.5.20 (289)). Still, the goodness of the divine essence and the noetic actuality of the Necessary Existence are such that only beings that are perpetual proceed from Him. On this basis, the beings that emanate from the divine essence fall into three broad domains. First, there are the intellects, which lack any aspect of privation or potentiality and therefore undergo no motion or change; they possess perpetuality in themselves — perfect (tāmm) beings. Next come souls and celestial bodies, which, although lacking a certain perfection from one aspect (the category of position), nevertheless acquire that perfection through their own continuous circular motion — sufficient (muktafī) beings. Finally, there are the material substances under the lunar sphere, which do not possess permanence in themselves (imperfect (nāqiṣ) beings) (Ilāhīyyāt IV.3.10–11 (189)),Footnote ³⁸ but whose generation and corruption secure the preservation and continuity of their species. The evils under discussion belong exclusively to this last domain (Ilāhīyyāt IX.6.4 (416:8–10), IX.6.21 (421:9)).

If God were to create a world entirely free of such evils, He would face only two possibilities. Either He would have to repeat what He has done with perfect and sufficient beings — for sublunary species cannot arise except through elemental compositions whose very existence entails privation — and such a repetition is pointless (Ilāhīyyāt IX.6.12 (418:13–17), IX.6.22 (421:12–15)). Or He would have to refrain altogether from creating material species. But this would be irrational and incompatible with “divine wisdom,” since the per se purpose is the preservation and continuity of species, and these evils do not disrupt that purpose:

No rational agent would abandon a primary end merely to avoid a harm that poses no threat to that end:

As I noted at the beginning of this article, Avicenna’s argument is usually split into two distinct components: a greater-good theodicy, based on the idea that God’s concern for one of His creatures may at times require permitting an evil in order to secure a greater good for that creature; and a privation theory of evil, which construes evil as the mere absence of a perfection. The dialectical reconstruction I have offered highlights two points. First, these two strands are, in Avicenna’s own account, thoroughly interwoven: Evil, understood as the absence of a perfection, pertains exclusively to material entities, and these entities are themselves necessary for securing the preservation and continuity of material species — the per se purpose. Second, Avicenna’s reasoning once again underscores the decision-theoretic character of his treatment of evil.

Consider the following example. An investor decides to build a profitable factory that generates substantial employment and produces three distinct products. The production lines for two of the products generate no waste whatsoever. The third, however, due to technological limitations, necessarily produces some waste. Yet the waste is not so great as to threaten the viability of the investment or impose an irreparable loss. The investor, fully knowing these technological constraints and the fact that the third production line will inevitably generate waste, is nonetheless satisfied with all of this. In Avicennian terms, the benefits of the third production line, as the per se purpose, require that its waste also fall within the scope of the investor’s purpose — but only per accidens. It would therefore be unreasonable to reproach the investor for having established the third line, or worse, to call the entire investment project into question on account of its waste.

Avicenna’s phrase “in terms of possibility” in his definition of providence points precisely to these constraints. God knows that the preservation of natural species necessarily brings with it certain evils. But since these evils do not interfere with the realization of His primary purpose — namely, the permanent order of the world, for which Avicenna promises at the beginning of Ilāhīyyāt IX.6 to provide an explanation — He purposes them as well, though only in a secondary and derivative manner, so that the primary purpose may be fulfilled.