What follows
from the twofold fact that (a) the reality of God is not obvious to many people
and (b) there is widespread disagreement concerning religious matters among
people with considerable integrity and relevant competence? This book offers
an answer. It recommends neither atheism nor agnosticism but rather tentative,
nondogmatic religious belief, even tentative theistic belief.
The fundamental feature of divine hiddenness, according to McKim, is “the
fact that God’s existence and nature are not obvious” (p. 5). In
other words, “the central idea is just that it is not clear whether the
claims that theists make about God are true...” (p. 6). What exactly does
McKim mean by “obvious” and “clear” ? It’s not
clear what he means, but he does give some hints. He remarks that “...
God’s existence and nature would be clearer if there were in the world
clear and obvious signs of God’s presence, as would be the case if virtue
were always rewarded, vice always punished, and if various signs and wonders
were constantly available” (p. 6). He imagines the following possible
“signs and wonders” that allegedly would make God’s existence
clear or at least clearer: the morning sky overhead would always be lit up with
a verse from the Psalms; a person’s prayers to God would always be followed
with help of a clear sort; and future astronomical discoveries would be announced
to us in advance. It’s not clear to me, at least, that such signs would
be clear indicators of God’s reality. Many people would not regard them
as obvious signs of God’s existence. This suggests that what’s clear
varies among people.
Does divine hiddenness vary relative to people, and, if so, how? McKim is unclear
on this issue. He promises to “present a series of arguments in support
of the claim that God is hidden from all human beings” (p. 8). His thesis
is that “if God exists, God is hidden to a considerable degree from all
human beings at all times” (p. 10). He offers a number of supporting arguments
but then, without any explanation, weakens his thesis as follows: “...
we have reason to conclude that, if God exists, God is hidden to a considerable
extent from almost all human beings at almost all times” (p. 12). Which
is it? “All human beings at all times”? Or “almost all human
beings at almost all times”? McKim shifts between these logically different
theses without any explanation or rationale. One is thus left wondering what
exactly he aims to establish. The thesis concerning “almost all human
begins at almost all times” looks like a statistical empirical claim whose
warrant would require salient statistical empirical evidence, but McKim has
not supplied such evidence. In addition, it is unclear how he might readily
gather such evidence. One obvious problem is that he would need statistical
empirical evidence that bears on “almost all times.” It’s
not clear that he has such evidence at hand.
Additional lack of clarity marks McKim’s talk of God’s being “hidden
to a considerable degree.” When exactly is a degree considerable? Is any
degree a considerable degree? We are not told. One of McKim’s arguments
for the thesis that “God is hidden to a considerable degree from all human
beings at all times” runs as follows.
"... it may be that the explanation of why some people find that God is hidden is that those people have the wrong attitudes or the wrong beliefs or have gone wrong in some other way. This ... might be thought of as a matter of failing to seek the truth with enough of their energies, being proud instead of humble, refusing to countenance the possibility that God might exist, being utterly unwilling to think or live or respond in ways in which one thinks one ought to think or live or respond if God were to exist, or something else. Insofar as the explanation [of divine hiddenness] is to be found in an area such as this, one has reason to concede that God is always hidden from everyone to some extent" (p. 11).
Even if
“God is always hidden from everyone to some extent,” it does not
obviously follow that “God is hidden to a considerable extent.”
Typically, we do not regard just any degree of hiding as a considerable degree.
So, it’s unclear how the kind of reason, or explanation, just offered
is supposed to yield the conclusion that “God is hidden to a considerable
degree from all human beings at all times” (p. 10).
McKim begins with talk of God’s being “hidden,” and he suggests
that this is to be understood in terms of “the fact that God’s existence
and nature are not obvious” (pp. 5, 6). Such talk then shifts to (non-equivalent)
talk of God’s being “hidden to a considerable degree” and
“hidden to some extent” (pp. 10, 11). We have, as it happens, an
absolute use of “obvious” where either something is obvious or it
isn’t. A direct analogue to this is our absolute use of “unique.”
Either something is unique or it isn’t. Initially, McKim seems to use
“hidden” in an absolute manner on the basis of an absolute use of
“obvious.” He shifts, however, to a non-absolute use that allows
for degrees of hiddenness. His non-absolute use evidently rests on a notion
of degrees of obviousness that has not been clarified. Discussion becomes murky
here owing to lack of clarity in a standard for measuring degrees of obviousness
and thus hiddenness. We sometimes talk rather casually of something’s
being somewhat obvious, just as we sometimes talk very loosely of something’s
being rather unique. This offends some linguistic purists, but the real concern
is that such talk calls for a standard of measuring (at least in principle)
degrees of obviousness. In the absence of such a standard, our non-absolute
use of “obvious” will be unclear. McKim’s use is in fact left
unclear.
What exactly does McKim mean in saying that “God is always hidden from
everyone to some extent” (p. 11)? If we use McKim’s talk of what’s
“obvious” to supply clarification, we might have the claim that:
(1) God’s reality is always not obvious to some extent for everyone.
In McKim’s language, (1) seems to be synonymous with:
(2) God’s reality is always not clear to some extent for everyone.
One might
understand (2) as the innocuous claim that God’s reality is never fully
revealed to any human. McKim, however, does not understand (2) in that innocent
manner. Nor does he settle for a solely psychological lesson from (2). He aims
to get cognitive, or epistemic, mileage from (2). But can he?
McKim proposes that “to say that God is hidden ... is to say that religious
ambiguity extends to the existence of God” (p. 21). At this point, epistemic
considerations are built into McKim’s notion of divine hiddenness. He
clarifies his talk of religious ambiguity as follows: “our lives are ambiguous
in that they may reasonably be interpreted in entirely secular terms or in religious
terms, but also in that they may reasonably be interpreted using the concepts
of various religious traditions” (p. 22). Note the twofold occurrence
of “reasonably.” McKim has moved beyond any psychological notion
of hiddenness or clarity to an epistemically loaded notion. The notion now carries
a notion of reasonableness. We may presume that McKim has epistemic, or cognitive,
reasonableness of some sort in mind, as he is concerned with the truth of theistic
claims, and not the practical utility of holding theistic beliefs.
What specific notion of epistemic reasonableness does McKim have in mind? It’s
actually not clear, and the index lacks a helpful entry for rational, reasonable,
justified, or warranted belief. Philosophers have circulated a number of specific
notions of epistemic reasonableness; so we need careful specification here.
One might surmise from a passing remark on page 7 that McKim would somehow link
epistemic reasonableness with best available explanation, but it’s unclear
how, if at all, the connection is supposed to go. This is a critical matter,
because in the absence of a clear standard for epistemic reasonableness, it
will be impossible to give a judicious assessment of McKim’s claim about
reasonableness in connection with hiddenness and ambiguity. Indeed, in that
case his claim will be semantically unclear. It is in fact unclear.
McKim does not use divine hiddenness to recommend against any particular religious
belief. He explains:
"I do not presume that I have presented a set of arguments that are powerful
enough that they require of anyone that they give up their religious position.
I do not feel that I am in a position to judge what it is like to be a member
of a tradition, or to possess a viewpoint, of which I have no personal experience,
or to consider all of the relevant evidence at once, or even seriatim. As far
as I know, there are numerous positions that may reasonably be held on religious
matters, including the positions that go with being a member of any of the main
world religions" (p. 203).
Even so, McKim adds: “An implication of my position is that most martyrs
who have died for their faith have been misled, [for] ... they have died in
the name of certainty about their beliefs” (p. 204). McKim thus has a
recommendation, on the basis of divine hiddenness, for how religious beliefs
should be held. They should, he proposes, be held tentatively, without certainty.
It seems incorrect for McKim to say that most martyrs have died “in the
name of certainty about their beliefs.” Rather, they have died in the
name of the God regarding whom they held firm, non-tentative beliefs. There’s
a big difference here. What a martyr dies for, relative to the martyr’s
intentions, is the God being served, not the psychological or cognitive status
of the martyr’s beliefs. It’s a category mistake to suggest otherwise.
It’s unclear how McKim could substantiate his claim that most martyrs
who have died for their faith should not have held their religious beliefs with
certainty. He has already conceded the following, as noted: “I do not
feel that I am in a position to judge what it is like to be a member of a tradition,
or to possess a viewpoint, of which I have no personal experience, or to consider
all of the relevant evidence at once, or even seriatim.” If, as he admits,
he cannot consider all of the relevant evidence at once, or even seriatim, then
he is in no position to recommend that most martyrs who have died for their
faith should not have held their religious beliefs with certainty. McKim, by
his own acknowledgment, does not have an adequate vantage point on their evidence.
For all he knows, by his own admission, their relevant evidence called for firm
belief that resulted in martyrdom for the God they followed.
Judgments of epistemic reasonableness must be careful, given the different specific
standards of reasonableness in circulation. Relevantly competent people of considerable
integrity disagree about reasonableness. In suggesting that most martyrs have
been misled owing to the cognitive mistake of non-tentativeness in their beliefs,
McKim proposes that most martyrs have been unreasonable. This proposal has not
been substantiated by McKim; nor can it be, given his own standard for reasonableness.
Many relevantly competent people of considerable integrity disagree about the
specific conditions for reasonableness. McKim’s so-called critical stance
that recommends tentativeness in belief relies on such disagreement as a basis
for recommending tolerance toward alternative religious beliefs. His tolerance
should thus be extended to the case of martyrs. At a minimum, he should withhold
judgment on whether most martyrs are misled owing to non-tentativeness in their
commitments. Their evidence and standards for reasonableness may actually call
for firm commitment, so far as McKim knows.
McKim uses divine hiddenness to try to minimize the importance of theistic belief.
He claims: “If theistic belief ... were very important, each person, surely,
would have an equal shot at it.... There is the fact of religious ambiguity,
[which] suggests that theistic belief is not important” (p. 122). McKim
thus suggests that God must not regard theistic belief as very important. The
suggestion is premature at best. An all-loving God could regard theistic belief
as very important but value other things as more important. For example, God
could value letting human sin mature into its nasty futility (so that its futility
could be readily seen) even if this entails some obscurity about God’s
reality. This, in fact, is what the apostle Paul suggests in Romans. McKim’s
suggestion is challenged by such a scenario.
Even if McKim has not made a convincing case for tentative religious belief,
his book does raises vital questions for the philosophy of religion. It will
repay close attention from all philosophers.
Paul K.
Moser
Loyola University of Chicago
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