Risk

The endorsement of certain propositions is risky. Both on their face and after scrutiny, some propositions seem likely to be false. Endorsing these propositions, rather than others (or remaining agnostic), comes with greater epistemic risk: we’re more likely to hold false beliefs when endorsing these propositions.

On the table before you it seems as if there is a tomato. While there are numerous possible explanations of this seeming, consider these: (1) there is before you on the table a tomato, and (2) an evil scientist is probing your brain such that it seems to you as if there is a tomato on the table. (2) is riskier than (1); on its face and after scrutinizing reflection, it seems one is more likely to hold a false belief should they endorse (2) over (1).

We take it that many religious commitments are quite risky in this sense. That is, we think that many religious commitments seem likely to be false, and so, one should avoid endorsing them. One has a better position vis-a-vis epistemic risk should they just endorse Deism or Philosophical Theism instead of endorsing some sort of Religious Theism.

Our point needs to be unpacked, however. For, it seems as though talk of epistemic risk, in the above sense, could just be a roundabout way of saying ‘I don’t find P plausible’. For, how is one to determine the likelihood of a particular proposition’s being false, and so, risky? Well, by their own lights, given the available evidence. But if epistemic risk were wholly relative to subjects and their available evidence in this sense, it would be uninteresting. It would be the philosopher’s way of saying ‘I don’t buy it!.’

First of all, our point is not merely a probabilistic one. For example, Lanaster (Reference Lataster2018) has argued that Theism is almost certainly false because its probability is minuscule, especially compared to what he calls ‘alternative monotheisms’, such as Deism and the existence of a non-maximal God. His argument is Bayesian, or probabilistic, in nature.Footnote ¹³

Our point, rather, is to understand the epistemic risk of certain religious commitments in terms of their extraordinary nature. It doesn’t seem as though every proposition ought to be given equal weight; some things are more plausible, more likely to be true, than others. (1) just is more likely to be true, and so is less risky, than (2). This is due to the fact that (2) is a relatively incredible or extraordinary way to explain the fact that it seems to you as if a tomato is on the table. For the purposes of our argument here, we don’t find it necessary to provide an account of what makes a proposition (or anything else) extraordinary. We think examples make our point clear enough. Extraordinary, and so, risky, propositions include:

We think it is obvious that these propositions are very likely to be false. And so, we think it is obvious that endorsing them is risky. Thus, one probably should not endorse them.

We do not think that religious commitments, such as that God became human, belong on the list above (although some, no doubt, do think so).Footnote ¹⁴ We’re more confident in the truth of Christianity than the truth of Solipsism, to be sure. But if we were to rank propositions according to their riskiness, some core religious commitments would approach these and other obviously risky propositions. Thus, one probably should not take up those religious commitments. Or, more minimally, given one’s other epistemic commitments and dispositions, it is, on the whole, better not to take up religious commitments.

Baggage

Romantic partners, new houses, and religions have the following in common: they come with baggage. When you begin a new relationship, the side effects, aftermath, and other interesting leftovers from previous relationships sometimes come to the fore slowly (or not slowly at all). When you move in to a house, you might notice that beneath the agreeable grey is a kaleidoscopic stratum of offensive paint colours. And, when you endorse a worldview, philosophical position, and, especially, a religion, you realize you must address a bevy of philosophical and theological issues. In other words, most religious theists have to take on a good bit of work to inhabit the spaces they do. Deism and Philosophical Theism avoid that work, and this speaks in their favour.

Think, for example, of the problems and mysteries Deism and Philosophical Theism avoid compared to traditional Christianity: they avoid the need to make sense of the trinity, the incarnation, the presence of Christ in the host, and issues regarding the interpretation and reliability of scripture. Deists and philosophical theists marshal their preferred arguments for the existence of God, consider and respond to objections to those arguments, and head home. The religious theist must do this all too, but they must further try to make sense of (sometimes) bewildering doctrines, or simply take them on as mysteries. But no one should be happy with bewildering doctrines or mysteries. This is not to say that there are no adequate accounts of the trinity, and so on, from religious theists. But insofar as Deism and Philosophical Theism avoid even having to deal with bewildering doctrines and mysteries, they are more attractive than Religious Theisms.

To put our point differently, and more vividly: imagine what is supposed to be a peaceful cocktail party for those who believe in a traditional conception of God. While everyone in attendance shares the core and fundamental belief in God, their differences soon cause both intramural and inter-sect strife. In one corner is a shouting match over what ‘real presence’ amounts to; in another corner is a lively discussion about whether or not Arians are Christians; and, throughout, there is clamouring about who the final prophet is. While this is unfolding, deists and philosophical theists look at each other, lean back on the bar, and say to themselves, ‘Get a load of this!’ Deism and Philosophical Theism are fairly clean and unencumbered views, especially compared to their religious counterparts.Footnote ¹⁵

Rationality

Our third and final point is bound to sound overly controversial. So, let’s hedge off any misunderstandings. We do not think religious commitments lack justification, or make one irrational. We do not think that taking things on faith makes one irrational (Buchak Reference Buchak, Chandler and Harrison2012; Jackson Reference Jackson, Vallier and Rassmusen2020). We do not think that the only rational response to the current evidence is Deism or Philosophical Theism (Pettigrew Reference Pettigrew2022). We do not deny that religious beliefs may be properly basic (Plantinga Reference Plantinga2000). We do not deny the possibility of genuine religious experiences, that religious experiences or perceptions may ground religious beliefs (Alston Reference Alston1991). We do not deny that seemings – ways the world seems to us – can justify religious beliefs (Gage and McAllister Reference Gage, McAllister, DePoe and McNabb2020). We do not think testimony is a bad or defective way to acquire knowledge, or that authority is epistemically worthless (Zagzebski Reference Zagzebski2012). We do not reject the possibility of special divine action, and so, the potential legitimacy of revelation (see Larmer Reference Larmer2015 and other contributions in the same issue). We do not think philosophical reflection on religious commitments is misguided, or that these various sources of justification cannot be construed along evidentialist lines. However, we think it is better to have the support of natural reason for a proposition than it is to not have the support of natural reason. And we think the deist and philosophical theist have the support of natural reason maximally while the religious theist must take on various commitments not supported directly, or very well, by natural reason. This speaks in favour of the former.

There are various ways to get, and various kinds of, evidence. So, there are various ways to support or justify our beliefs. We think that some are better than others. As with our discussion of extraordinary propositions above, we don’t quite have a theory of how one way of gathering evidence, or supporting our beliefs, is better than another. We think the idea is fairly intuitive. In justifying our belief about whether or not it is raining outside, it is better to rely on our own sensory experience than it is to rely on the ‘testimony’ of a magic eight ball. We’re unsure about there being one, universal, best way to support beliefs. It seems to depend on the nature of the belief we’re trying to support. For example, propositions concerning the weather outside our office are supported best by our own sensory experiences and not, say, formal proof or philosophical argumentation. Formal proof is best, though, for supporting mathematical beliefs. However, things are different with the existence of God. The existence of God is not verifiable, and so, relying on sensory experience is out of the question. Formal proof could work, but seems less than ideal (we’re not enthusiastic about ontological arguments). But philosophical argumentation, as evinced by natural theology, seems well-suited to support the belief in God and other metaphysical beliefs.

Consider now various religious commitments, such as that God is of three persons. This is not something accessible to natural reason; the question ‘how many persons is God?’ would not occur to the natural theologian. The Christian theist takes on the trinity as a religious commitment. How do they support it? Testimony. (Of course, the doctrine is articulated and elucidated via philosophical argumentation, but its initial and core support is of a testimonial nature.) Our point is that the doctrine of the trinity, along with other religious commitments, would be better off if supported by philosophical argumentation. In general, a proposition concerning the nature of the divine is better off when supported by independent philosophical argumentation. But religious theists take on a whole host of commitments not supported by natural reason. Insofar as deists and philosophical theists only go as far as the best evidence permits, they’re in better epistemic position than religious theists.

Here’s another, perhaps better, way to put our point. Generally – although this is an idealization – when forming beliefs, we look to what the best evidence supports. That evidence comes from direct sensory experience, empirical science, formal proof, and philosophical reflection and argumentation. When forming beliefs about how many fingers are on our right hand, we consult sensory experience. When forming beliefs about gestation, we consult embryology and its constituent work. When forming beliefs about the sum of two numbers, we consult formal arguments (or something near enough). When forming beliefs about the nature of normativity, we consult metaethics and its constituent philosophical arguments. However, when it comes to forming beliefs about God, many consult revelation and tradition, or justify their beliefs in non-ideal ways. We think this is odd. Why would we not form our beliefs about God by the usual, best methods? Why, for so many, is there a glaring exception in their belief-forming practices (cf. Sikka Reference Sikka, Draper and Schellenberg2017)? We don’t think that there is no legitimate empirical work or philosophical argumentation that supports the religious commitments of religious theists. Nor do we think special revelation is epistemically useless. Rather, we think that there is an odd asymmetry in how many go about forming their beliefs about the divine compared to how they form their other beliefs.Footnote ¹⁶ If we all went about forming our beliefs about God in the usual, best ways, more of us would be deists or philosophical theists, not religious theists. In other words, we think that, given the best evidence, there should be a presumption of Deism or Philosophical Theism over Religious Theism (cf. Flew Reference Flew1972).

Incommensurability

Deism and Philosophical Theism, as we’ve painted them, are philosophical positions – places one occupies after inquiry and reflection. However, Religious Theism seems to be more than just that. It provides an entire worldview with built-in, practical upshots: an arc of the universe, a normative theory, a framework for interpreting our experience of the world and our place in it, rites, rituals, and other devotional procedures. In short, Deism and Philosophical Theism are a different kind of product than Religious Theism.

This incommensurability brings to light two worries. (1) Most people don’t go around ‘shopping’ for the most well-supported sets of propositions to endorse; they look for worldviews – with their various practical upshots – endorse them, and then try to make sense of their various constituent doctrines.Footnote ¹⁷ Normal human beings form conceptions of and relations with the divine in a way radically different than the deist and philosophical theist seem to. Perhaps this signals that what’s virtuous or praiseworthy in the formation and adoption of philosophical and other views isn’t so in the case of our view about the divine. (2) Suppose you accept Deism or Philosophical Theism. You might then ask yourself, ‘Now what?’ It seems that, insofar as Deism and Philosophical Theism are merely philosophical positions, and not wholesale worldviews, that they lack the practical aspects of Religious Theism – rites, rituals, and other devotional procedures – that make religion worthwhile and rewarding. In other words, Deism and Philosophical Theism don’t seem like religious live options.Footnote ¹⁸

In response, both worries seem to take for granted that there simply must be more to God and our relationship with the divine than Deism and Philosophical Theism suggest. But this isn’t obviously true. It might be that God’s existence has no bearing on our place in the world, or how we should live, or our journey through the universe. It might be that God neither wants nor wishes for our gratitude and praise, or, if God does, that God does not care what form it comes in. In other words, it might be that the connection between the existence of God and the rest of one’s worldview is weaker than we often suppose. If so, the force of these objections weakens.

Now, in response to (1) specifically, just because most human beings don’t go around ‘shopping’ for views based on reason alone doesn’t mean that they ought not to. Again, this is the very heart of Deism and Philosophical Theism: we ought (or have good reason, at least) to conceive of the divine and our relation to it only insofar as unaided natural reason allows, just as evidentialist considerations in other domains seem to require. Moral realists don’t get to declare victory just because most human beings assume their view tacitly and go around looking for a normative theory. The sociological fact that most of us commit to a worldview and then aim to support it with reason is no critique of those who commit to only those views supported by reason alone.

In response to (2) specifically, there is nothing about the range of views we’re advancing that prohibits, shuns, or chides rites, rituals, or any other devotional procedures.Footnote ¹⁹ While Deism and Philosophical Theism may seem fairly bare-bones in terms of religious and devotional practices, they needn’t be so. It is just that, on their face, they don’t commit one to any particular religious practices. Or, if they do, then it is to be shown by philosophical argumentation, not appeal to authority, revealed testimony, and the rest. So, instead of thinking of Deism and Philosophical Theism as incomplete views lacking practical guidance, we think of them as views with a fair bit of epistemically underdetermined content.Footnote ²⁰ Just as it would make little sense to criticize religious theists early in the history of their tradition for a lack of practical advice or precise rites and rituals, we feel it makes little sense to criticize deists and philosophical theists for their dearth ‘doctrinal guidance’ on such matters.Footnote ²¹

Wagers

Part of the motivation for Deism and Philosophical Theism is that they commit us to fewer risky propositions than Religious Theisms. They aim at truth accessible to reason, and that’s it. But there is no obvious payoff besides that. Religious theists, on the other hand, have reasons for thinking that there is more in store for us. In broad stroke: belief in God, but, more specifically, belief in the right God, following the teachings of the right prophet, partaking in certain rites and rituals, is argued to offer salvation, eternal bliss, endless reward. So, you might think that there is a wholly pragmatic reason for being a religious theist: the risk-reward ratio favours Religious Theism over Deism and Philosophical Theism insofar as the former comes with the promise of infinite benefit. In short: religious theists seem to have a wager-style argument in their favour.Footnote ²²

First, note this objection rests on several assumptions. It supposes God offers salvation and the rest. Second, religious pluralism, at least as it is usually understood, must be false. Third, it assumes that more, or something more specific, than belief in God is required for salvation, for example, that accepting, say, Jesus, is the only way to God. We’ve said nothing about God’s salvific plans (if there are any, what they are, how they’re achieved) or pluralism, and we do not plan to. However, take on these assumptions for argument’s sake. So, a particular kind of religious theist has the benefit of a decision matrix with infinite value in a quadrant whereas the Deist and Philosophical Theist do not.

Our worry with this kind of objection is that it can underwrite wild wagers. Any subject with a non-zero credence in this kind of religious theist’s claims must submit to the wager. But this can licence truly incredible beliefs. Come up with any extravagant Religious Theism you want. A wager in this theism will always prove rational when compared to more modest positions like those in the range we’re defending. So, if this objection succeeds, we think it proves far too much. Our credence in the proposition that eating apricots daily is necessary for salvation is not zero, but we do not, nor will be begin to, eat apricots daily. Obviously, this doesn’t make us irrational.

The value of faith

There are many different accounts of faith (see Rettler Reference Rettler2018). However we understand faith though, it seems to be valuable. Persons of faith might be thought to have a resilience and grit that others lack. But Deism and Philosophical Theism seem to chide faith: they follow reason, and reason alone, concerning matters of the divine. Insofar as deists and philosophical theists chide religious faith, they lose out on the value and meaning it can offer. This is a count against these positions.

To be clear, we don’t think that faith lacks value, even epistemic value. We simply think that faith is a less-than-ideal justification for many beliefs, particularly risky religious ones. To see this, all one needs to do is imagine how strange it would be if we relied on faith to justify beliefs about the number of stars in the universe, what our partner is making for dinner Tuesday evening, or what the correct normative ethical theory is.

That said, deists and philosophical theists may have room for faith, or, at least, its cognates. Shifting to the religious domain, while the deist and philosophical theist, as we’ve painted them, won’t assent to religious propositions on faith, it seems reasonable that they could hope for them to be true. Compare: ‘I have faith that my partner is making meatloaf Tuesday evening’ and ‘I hope that my partner is making meatloaf Tuesday evening’. The former seems to cognitively commit the speaker, to some degree, to a state of affairs obtaining, while the latter expresses a desire, inclination, or other positive conative attitude towards a state of affairs obtaining. Should quiche be what’s for supper on Tuesday, we’d have an epistemic strike, of some sort, against the former speaker but not the latter; the latter would simply be disappointed.Footnote ²³ If there is something to this distinction, we think the deist and philosophical theist can fruitfully incorporate hope, even religious hope, into their lives, and so, reap its benefits.

Might this admission undercut motivation for Deism and Philosophical Theism though? If hope is admissible, might the deist who hopes for the truth of Christianity be, well, a Christian or something near enough? No. Insofar as positions like Deism, Philosophical Theism, and Religious Theism are defined in terms of core propositional commitments, we do not think this admission undercuts our motivations. If Susie doesn’t believe in God, but hopes God exists, she is an atheist. In the same way, if Jimbo believes in an interventionist God, but denies that Jesus Christ was God incarnate, even though he hopes Jesus was God incarnate, Jimbo is just a Theist. While it is plausible that hope is constituted in part by some non-zero credence (Jackson Reference Jackson2021, 44), it seems wrong to call someone who all but denies, say, the divinity of Christ, a Christian, even if they hope or wish for the divinity of Christ. In other words, the cognitive component of hope, supposing there is one, seems as though it could be so miniscule as to make no genuine difference to the doxastic profile of an agent.Footnote ²⁴

Explanatory resources

One might concede that Deism and Philosophical Theism are in a better epistemic position compared to Religious Theism, but doubt these views are the best views wholesale. Perhaps the religious theist has certain resources that allow for better explanations of other issues in the philosophy of religion? Take, for instance, the problem of evil. It seems Christian theists have unique resources that potentially make their views more explanatorily powerful. For instance, it would be of significant theodical value if God became man and participated in a representative sample of human suffering, demonstrating solidarity with all human beings (see, for example, Adams Reference Adams1999; Bell Reference Bell2020). If this is so, then perhaps Deism and Philosophical Theism, whatever their epistemic benefits, just don’t do enough explanatory work to be taken seriously.

While we believe this to be an important objection, explanatory power must be weighed against other theoretical virtues. Even though the doctrine of the incarnation provides Christian theists with special resources which can help explain how the existence of an all-loving and all-powerful God is compatible with the presence of evil and suffering in the world, the incarnation comes with its own attendant problems. Whether things balance out in favour of Christian Theism or Deism and Philosophical Theism in terms of overall explanatory power is unclear. Obviously, we think that there is a strong case to be made for Deism and Philosophical Theism.

Moreover, the range of views we’re defending has its own unique explanatory resources and manoeuvres. Deism, in particular, has open to it a wider array of responses to evil, divine hiddenness, and related issues than Religious Theism. Indeed, it is noteworthy that Epicurus, who famously gave one of the earliest formulations of the problem of evil, did not argue for God’s non-existence, but for a non-interventionist conception of the gods. According to Epicurus, the gods live in a state of perfect happiness, completely detached from the human world and its affairs; for, if the gods did care about human life and were concerned with the innumerable tragedies that define human history, this would infringe upon the gods’ perfect tranquility (on Epicurean theology, see Obbink Reference Obbink1989). Similarly, someone who found both cosmological arguments for the existence of God and, say, the evidential problem of evil convincing could adopt a broadly deistic picture (see Harper Reference Harper2020, ch. 5; Mulgan Reference Mulgan2015, ch. 1) While we do not endorse or develop this Epicurean line of argument here, it is worth flagging as an explanatory advantage unique to (at least some of) the views we’re defending here.

Incomprehensibility

Plausibly, there are things that we cannot know about God through the use of reason alone: whether God has a providential plan for creation, what that plan is, if God wants us to behave in certain ways, whether there is punishment or reward awaiting us. In other words, God and our relation to the divine is not wholly accessible to us through reason alone. Religious Theisms, however, have the means to fill in the gaps: tradition and revelation. Because of this, Religious Theisms can give us a richer, more detailed picture of the divine, and so, are to be favoured over Deism and Philosophical Theism (cf. Moser Reference Moser2010, ch 3).

Many historical deists were motivated by the idea that God’s plans must be available to all human beings, regardless of time and place (Byrne Reference Byrne1989, 53–61). Because God is omnibenevolent and perfectly just – attributes we may arrive at through the use of reason alone – salvation must be ‘open access’. Our motivations and commitments are different than these historical deists however. We haven’t argued that unaided reason alone gets us everything that there is to know about God. We’re not arguing, for instance, that we can deduce God’s providential plan (if there is one) from our own conceptions of justice. We’re not religious rationalists; man is not the measure of God (Byrne Reference Byrne1989, 56). So, we’re happy to admit that we are in the dark concerning much about the divine. However, this doesn’t support Religious Theism. That Religious Theisms outstrip Deism and Philosophical Theism isn’t evidence that Religious Theisms are true; they simply purport to give us a more detailed picture of the divine. So, this objection either presupposes that revelation and matters of faith are on equal epistemic footing to reason in giving us truths about the divine – something the deist and philosophical theist will reject – or is just a version of the explanatory power objection, already considered, above.