So You’re Telling Me the Problem of Evil, Even If Successful, Wouldn’t Refute Theism?

Hold on a minute there, buddy...

Cameron Bertuzzi no longer takes atheism seriously. His reason? Because the best argument for atheism (the problem of evil), even if it were sound, doesn’t actually refute theism. At most, it should just cause us to refine our conception of God. This means that while there are many arguments for God that could refute atheism, there really isn’t an argument against God that establishes atheism. Rather, the arguments against God are just against a particular type of God and, if successful, should cause us to refine our conception of God rather than embrace atheism.

My general thought on this is that it doesn’t mean what I think many theists might think it means—that is, something somehow protective of their overall worldview. Truth be told, if one is willing to curtail or even forfeit one or more of the divine attributes, what is left, while perhaps still deserving of the title “god,” is far from classical theism—which, to my (admittedly puny) mind, is the only theism worth having.

Say, for example, that the foundation of all reality is effectively some demiurge-type being—a being of impressive power but also questionable moral character. Perhaps this being “explains” the fine-tuning of the universe and the problem of evil because it is supremely intelligent and powerful, though still limited, and even, occasionally, downright nefarious. (Law’s evil god?). Should any theist be particularly pleased by the posit of such an entity, simply because it “blocks” the problem of evil from running straight through to atheism? Surely not! Obviously, if this hypothesis were the ultimately correct one, it would be quite a worldview catastrophe for people who believe in God, despite it still not technically counting as atheism.

With that point made, permit me a rant: As a theist, I am not interested in a “god”—that is, I neither desire nor find intellectually satisfying the idea that the foundation of reality is occupied by a being of enormous but still limited power (or intelligence, or moral character, etc.)—what David Bentley Hart aptly describes as “mono-poly-theism.” A being that must learn things by scanning the world. A being that is acted upon by the world. A being that is not fully and thoroughly responsible for the existence of everything else apart from itself. A being that is not strictly identical to the Good itself but instead must take one of the horns of the Euthyphro dilemma. A being that is composite, stitched together from various attributes (however much higher they may be in degree compared to ours) but without any adequate explanation for why it has just those particular attributes, in just those degrees, or even why it exists at all—let alone necessarily, if it does. This is not a serious god hypothesis, because this is not, by any stretch, a being that is a serious contender for true ontological independence. This is not The Absolute.

Could such a being, as a contrived theoretical conjecture, wrap around and explain certain data better than some forms of naturalism? Perhaps. But as an ultimate explanation, I find it far more repugnant—both intellectually and spiritually—than most mainstream forms of atheism. So, while it is certainly true that the problem of evil does not immediately rule out all forms of theism, what would remain, if such arguments were sound (they aren’t), is hardly something a traditional, and especially Christian, theist would be happy to endorse. Many, I suspect, including myself, would rather (even just emotionally) embrace atheism.