In Defence of Ontological Arguments

The ontological argument has been attacked through history (most recently by Richard Dawkins in The God Delusion). In this article Tristan Stone, Head of Religious Studies and Theology at Harris Westminster Academy, defends the ontological argument and assesses its strengths. PB

Ontological arguments for the existence of God have been somewhat lampooned by the academic community. Richard Dawkins presents it as playground spat in his God Delusion and even Kant levied his own criticism. Dawkins’ complaint is hardly philosophical and we need not spill too much ink over his expostulation except to point out that his “translation of this infantile argument1” is steeped in the same error as Gaunilo and Kant – namely the reductio ad absurdum fallacy via the misappropriation of the Argument to things or objects which are, by their very nature and in their conception, contingent beings. That is to say, these sort of objections (Gaunilo’s perfect island and so forth) are not truly objections of the ontological argument because they are misapplied to creatures (by which is meant any thing existing – either in intellectu or in re – ). Of course it is absurd to reason into existence a perfect island just by piling on predicates and perfections – of which “existence” is said to be one. Yet an island is not that than which nothing greater can be conceived. An island, as a thing, is composite – an aggregate of its parts. Besides which, one can always add a coconut or a lagoon. God, on the other hand, being wholly simple, cannot have perfections taken away or added in the same way that an island can.

The challenge attributed to Kant – that “existence is not a predicate” is also true only of objects. Certainly it adds nothing to our understanding of a yellow chair that it exists. It does not further describe a hundred pounds to say that it exists in my pocket. Yet that is because all existence applied to objects is contingent existence: a chair exists in four dimensions (i.e. the three of space and one of time) for a period; even if it exists now, it was not always and will not always be. It therefore adds nothing to mention that it exists (now) for that is the very nature of things. It does not even add to our understanding of the object to mention that by the words, “it exists” is meant “and, by the way, this object is not imaginary” – for if one were talking of a unicorn and went on to say, “and, incidentally, this unicorn isn’t a myth – it’s real!” we would not be thinking of a different unicorn.

Yet existence is a predicate of God because it is actually necessary existence we are talking about. This certainly further describes and adds to our understanding of the Greatest Conceivable Being – for what cannot not exist is not only that than which nothing greater can be conceived but that by which everything else that conceives can conceive. To say that, “God exists necessarily” is to say, “God is”. This is indeed a revelation that moves God away from the deistic fantasies of an Aristotelian Prime Mover account and towards a personal God who not only creates (or forms) but sustains/conserves (cf Descartes’ 3rd Meditation).

If this seems a leap too far, it is because Kant’s observation that the cosmological argument rests upon the ontological is fair but may be inversed: for the weakness of the ontological argument is that it does not describe God but, rather, points to a superlative. Cosmological and design arguments can then be brought in to use a posteriori reasoning to further qualify the nature of this being than which nothing greater can be conceived.

We might say that we should not expect there to be a game of logic to prove the existence of God or else it would seem to negate free will and faith. Nevertheless, what ontological arguments do is to make faith coherent. There are many elements of the Creed which defy logic – which are irrational or non rational: the topsy-turvy logic of divine mercy and justice – of the vineyard labourers in Matthew 20; the quintessential paradox of the God-Man that facilitates the function of the Redeemer; the doctrine of the Trinity (which is a complete non-sense – one that stumps the greatest of theologians, including St. Augustine). Further, as Karl Barth points out, the word “Son” predicated of Jesus is a, “true but inadequate and inadequate but true term.” This is because there is (and can be) no analogy between God and Creature when we consider that God is Other.

This is precisely why ontological arguments are so useful because, in using the language of superlatives, they force us to steer away from thinking of the word “God” as a proper noun and invite us to talk about God as that than which nothing greater can be conceived – to consider Him as He is, not only pro nobis [for us] but also as He is in Himself. It reveals His otherness.

Yet this is precisely the criticism levied against ontological arguments – that all they do is talk of words – the de dicto necessary existence of a Greatest Conceivable Being – because what I conceive of as the GCB is different from what you might think of.

This, of course, should come as no surprise. Going back to Gaunilo’s island, it is patently obvious that a “perfect island” means something different to you or me and so the idea of a perfect being also seems non-sensical. However, two replies may be made:
Firstly: a perfect being (or, more precisely, that than which nothing greater can be thought of is not a composite of arbitrarily conceived perfections but simply in Himself perfect, whether or not those perfections are recognised. What matters is that it is agreed God is “the sum of all perfections” (Descartes) or (to avoid composite language) the Superlative. We might not agree which is the best symphony, but we understand the term “best”; to ask “which is better than the best symphony?” would be like asking why a donkey is a carrot (or “what caused the uncaused cause?”)

Secondly, we can only think of all things as they are pro nobis – or even pro me [for me]. Read the word “Shakespeare” and an image is immediately formed in the mind’s eye. This may or may not be influenced by the Chandos portrait, other engravings and/or depictions of him on screen and stage. Most of us have had the experience of reading a book and watching the film afterwards. The picture we have formed in our mind of the character will be unique. Once we are presented with the actor portraying the character, that must be assimilated into our imagination of the character. If we then re-read the same book we will find a certain influence of the actor upon our imagination but it is not (usually) completely replaced. This is because we conceive of beings as they are pro me.

This is not limited to imaginary beings: if you know someone, you only know them relationally. Your best friend is known to you in their capacity as your best friend; your parents are known (and even called) by their relational function to you; you know your teachers in their role as educators – not who they might be at their local tiddlywinks club.
This becomes acutely apparent when celebrity scandals hit the headlines. We might gasp in surprise: “Well I never thought that about so-and-so! I can’t believe it’s the same person!” All this because we think we know people when all we really know is how they are pro me. Thus all our understanding, all our knowledge, all our apprehension is pro me and imaginal3. Reality is constructed by our perceptions for each of us.
Does this mean all we can talk about will only ever be de dicto? Perhaps. After all, if I tell you of my friend Alex, you may form a mental picture of a man or a woman, attribute him/her a variety of ethnicities, heights, weights and so forth. It does not mean we can’t have a conversation about Alex and all be talking of the same person because we have a different conception of Alex.

So, too, with God: for all human language is inadequate to describe things beyond our direct experience – even of our direct experience. All language is specific and idiosyncratic. All language is a description of reality pro me. Yet the fact that human beings are able to communicate at all means that language is also a series of signs that point to common things we understand (or understand-in-part). The word God is no less a sign pointing to a reality than is Alex. As it is clear none of us can truly know Alex, neither can we know God. Yet, lest we despair that all we are talking about is the de dicto reality of God or Alex, we can use other words to build a clearer, general picture of what the words God and Alex point to: in the case of Alex, a short, Caucasian woman with long, curly blonde hair and a Brummie accent. In the case of God, a being than which nothing greater can be conceived, whose existence is necessary.

The triumph of Anselm’s ontological argument is, then, that it re-interprets the sign God as that Ultimate reality that simply is. As we can all think of a superlative being that only exists in intellectu and also countenance such a superlative being that also exists in re, it is clear that the truly superlative being will be that which exists in re, and not only exists now but for all times – whose existence is necessary. Thus the philosophical insight of this ontological argument – that the being than which nothing greater can be conceived is, tallies completely with the theological insight of Exodus 3:14 – the Proper Name of God revealed in the Tetragrammaton – transliterated as YHWH or Yahweh and translated into Greek as ἐγώ εἰμι ὁ ὤν4 and English as I AM THAT I AM.

This contribution to the work of philosophy and theology cannot be overstated – for ontological arguments truly bridge the gap between both disciplines, forcing the believer and non-believer to adjust language about God. All too often the atheist and theist come to an impasse when they realise that they are talking at cross-purposes about two different beings: the atheist refuses to believe in an anthropomorphised Man-in-the-sky-who-controls-everything. So does the theist (unless (s)he believes in Zeus). The problem is that the word “God” is pregnant with a sea of images which are not always entirely useful or true. Only when we start from the position of Anselm’s superlative being do we understand, truly, that that than which nothing greater can be conceived cannot not be – i.e. IS, and then the more interesting work can begin.

“It is clear to anyone who thinks about the nature of things that the same power and action is obviously required to conserve anything during the individual moments of its duration as would be required to create it for the first time, had it not already existed. Thus there is only a distinction of reason between conservation and creation, and this is one of the things that are evident by the natural light of reason. Therefore, I should now ask myself: have I some power by which I can bring it about that I, who exist at present, will still exist a short time in the future? Since I am only a thinking thing or, at least, I am discussion only those features of that part of me which is specifically a thinking thing, if I had such a power I would undoubtedly by aware of it. But I do not experience any such power, and therefore I know very evidently that I depend on some being that is distinct from me.” Descartes, Meditations

By imaginal is meant with recourse to the imagination but not necessarily invented or “made up.” The imaginal is the faculty of our minds that looks and sees beyond what is immediately present or visible.